Harley Quinn

harleyquinnata

"No, my questions were answered." Joker said, a smile on his face. His arms were fidgeting in the jacket, and Joker finally blinked and looked her over. “Actually-" Joker chuckled, sinisterly, "-this reminds me of Silence of the Lambs. Except I won’t eat you." Joker leaned forward, his arms still fidgeting and moving in the jacket. “Even though I bet you taste delicious."

*Snap!*

Another snap echoed behind him, the fabric of the jacket loosening around his arms. “But now, tell me about yourself, I’d love to know my doctor a little more, after all, I hope we will be seeing-"

*Snap!*

"-a lot of each other." Behind Jokers back, he was unbuckling the snaps on his back through the fabric. Before being placed in this straitjacket, he pinched the front while it was being placed on. This gave him about four inches of slack in the back.

He licked his lips again. “What’cha writing about?" Joker said, leaning precariously to one side, trying to catch a glance of what she was writing. “And is this my therapy or yours, cause aren’t you supposed to be asking me th-"

He saw her mouth twitch in the shape of a smile.

*Snap!*

Two more to go. “Was that a smile, Doctor?" Joker asked, his pearly white smile behind the mask showing through the gaps and holes of the mask. “What are you smiling about?" He asked, charmingly. “What does a pretty girl like you smile about, hm? Oh, and who says I want to intimidate you? Maybe I want to be nice on our first date."

She disregarded his first comment, about how he was reminded of the fictional character “Hannibal”, and how he was certain “she tasted delicious”. The blonde wasn’t sure if he meant she’d taste delicious in the sense that he had a Cannibalistic intent, or if it was…another means he had on the mind; either way, the very thought of either caused her to shift in her seat. It could have been interpreted as excitement or fear by that point, regardless, it was thrilling. “I’m sorry, Mr.Joker, but anything pertaining to me or my personal life is not up for discussion. We’re here to talk about you. And I’m only offering you the opportunity to voice your concerns with questions, but if you have none, then we’re free to proceed.”

As he craned to the side in an effort to read her writing, she turned the pad over and laid it in her lap; effectively obscuring his view, and she didn’t doubt he’d have no trouble reading what was written, even if it was upside down. Many might have thought The Joker to be insane but she saw more to him and didn’t doubt his intelligence for a minute. “I’m just taking some notes, nothing to concern yourself with.”

The smile that briefly flashed over her lips had dissipated, but not quick enough for the Clown, he made note of it instantly and even commented in the middle of another sentence he was trying to rattle off. “Many things make me smile, but once again, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with.” Her response was a bit cold, and it was clear that she was withdrawn from his attempted charm.

Frustration grew within the pale green body of the unstable meta human, as she stared at the battered body of the blonde laying at her feet.  She closed her eyes, reigning herself it.  This was not the time to allow herself to lose control of her still relatively new powers.  When she reopened them, the green was less dark and ferocious then it had been previously and as she looked at the raggedly breathing body at her feet she could not help but to feel something tug at her heat strings.  Something about this girl drew Ivy in… 

Letting out a sigh, the green skinned master of plants moved to a kneeling position examining the extent of the wounds the blonde had. There was a lot of bruises covering her body from what she could see under the torn clothing, though if her eyes were not deceiving her a vast majority of them were far older than what could have been caused today.  Some blood escaped the various cuts that littered her body, and Ivy noted that nothing seemed to be broken.  ‘I want answers… ’ Ivy thought to herself as she stood up, not allowing herself to dwell upon the thought that she actually pitted the girl and waved a hand towards her plants.  

The vines did as they knew she wanted, moving to pick up the battered body of the small clown and followed behind their mistress as she moved at a languid pace towards the large building beside the house.  Ivy pushed open the door, and walked over to the nearest table clearing off the surface from the various seeds and newspaper clippings. “Put her down… gently." She ordered verbally as she disappeared out of the room and down the hallway towards her makeshift lab.  Green hands scoured through vials and creams expertly once she made it to the desk sitting nearest the window and silently thanked her forethought in creating healing ointments before she found out she could heal herself fairly quickly under the right conditions.  

Ivy grasped a large jar of neon green paste from the far side of the table as well as a clear liquid she kept in a large test tube.  Stirring it around she nodded, taking the two naturally produced supplies back to the table where she left the blonde in the care of her mostly harmless plants.  She paused at the doorway, her eyes gazing at the mostly nude form that lay upon the table for a moment a little awestruck at what the ridiculous outfit hid.  

Shaking her head at those thoughts, Ivy berated herself for even daring to gaze at her body.  Not only was she helplessly unconscious but she seemed to be suffering from wounds that Ivy could almost guarantee came from some sort of abuse.  Moving closer she took off the lid of the paste, dipping her fingers into it and removing a generous amount of it to spread across the open wounds that were around her body, her ever helpful vines retrieving bandages and helping her move the girl like a rag doll should their mistress need it.  The process of applying the paste, bandaging the clown’s body, and pouring the clear liquid down her throat to help with the pain she was surely going to feel took almost an hour.  It was worth it, as the blonde woman was finally looking remotely peaceful in her unconscious state.  Waving her hands at her vines she slowly watched as they picked up the woman and took her to the spare bedroom not far from her makeshift lab.  

 Flashbacks.

To be honest, Harley wasn’t sure what had set him off. Normally she knew how to push his buttons, and when to stop, but the Clown lashed out unpredictably this time; albeit he was always unpredictable, but this time was different.

“HARLEY?!” The sudden booming echo of The Joker’s voice made her flinch violently. She had been tiptoeing around him lately, but it seems his attention was finally set in her direction. Not good. Her breathing immediately began to come in quick pants, her vibrant hues glanced around in a beady fashion as panic seeped its way throughout her entire being. “Y-Yes, Puddin’?” The Clown girl reluctantly replied, her lithe form clad in her signature suit as she slowly shuffled out into the hallway, her gaze dropped low as he approached.

The Joker didn’t even bother to tell her what she had done, he merely called out as a means to locate her within the large warehouse, and as soon as he did, he zeroed in on her. A gloved hand sailed through the air and struck the side of her face, an instant flash of light blaring behind her eyelids as they squinted shut. She may have been one tough cookie, but she broke like a china doll whenever he lashed out at her; which happened more than ever lately. The various bruises she had accumulated over her body were covered by the sheer fabric of her one piece suit, but there was still pain beneath it and whenever he touched her. “I’m sorry!” She didn’t even know what she was apologizing for, but whatever she did; she was sorry.

All abused women would rationalize their beatings, find some wrong in their ways and automatically take the blame, even if they weren’t to blame at all.

Without warning, the Harlequin flinched awake, her eyes wide with  the fear of her current mindset, her petite form curling away and bracing for another blow. But it never came.

Slowly, she calmed down, but Harley was still quite confused as to where she was. Rapidly, she took in her surroundings, and the confusion only doubled. All around her was plant life and none like she had ever seen. Vines encompassed most of the space and brought forth a wild look; feral. She was reminded of a jungle, and the building seemed to have been claimed by it. Rather than making herself known, she got to her feet silently and slinked forward in silence as she made her way out of the room. She didn’t think it wise to call out to the unknown- although sneaking up on it wasn’t any better –but what other choice did she have? She didn’t know where she was, or who was there with her, and defense was her first instinct.

They wheeled him in through the double doors of Gotham’s newly renovated Arkham Asylum. His green eyes darted between all the doctors and security officers, watching him as he was carted down. He licked his lips in his face mask. He looked at several male doctors, writing down notes as he was carted down.

"Have the lambs stopped screaming, doctors?" Joker said, mimicking Hannibal Lector. He then began to cackle, struggling in his straight-jacket.

"Quiet you!" said one of the security officers, taking him to his psych evaluation.

"Oh! Someones feeling a little brave, huh?" Joker said, his eyes now locking on the back of that officers head. “I’ll be seeing you in two weeks." He then began to giggle. “You’ll also be seeing your own intestines in your hands! I broke out once, what makes you think I won’t break out again?!" He began to cackle sadistically as he was brought into a large white room.

Inside the room was a stainless steel table, a tape recorder, and a chair. Joker was carted into the other side of the table, opposite the chair. He was then parked and the security officers left his sides. He smiled as she came in, not saying a word. Not even eyeing her over, just simply looking into her eyes.

At long last, it was time to meet the notorious Clown Prince of Crime, and despite her nerves being on end, Harleen couldn’t deny the excitement that she felt building within her. She found an odd sort of thrill with the thought of being locked in a room with The Joker, albeit the countless safety precautions taken to ensure her survival of the encounter. The madman wasn’t only bound in a straitjacket, he was also secured to the very chair he was sat upon, and that chair was bolted to the floor. A panic button was also hidden with the Doctor, just incase. You could never be too careful in situations like this.

There was no escaping or wiggling free on his part; no tricks hidden up his sleeve. He was at his weakest, essentially, but even a caged tiger is dangerous, and anyone would feel intimidated to be thrown in with one.  Her fear was reconfirmed when she felt his eyes upon her as she entered the room,  his piercing gaze fixated and silently watching like a predator sizing up its prey before it pounced.

With a deep breath, Harleen situated herself across from the Clown, her vibrant blue gaze daring to match his own. It probably wasn’t wise to issue such a challenge; it was much like two territorial dogs making eye contact and staring each other down, it was a silent dare between both parties; only in this case, The Joker couldn’t do a thing to assert his Dominance. The blonde put on a good poker face, any possible fear she held previously was currently masked behind a professional façade.

She wore the usual pencil skirt and dress shirt, along with a doctors coat. A name tag showed. Harleen. Interesting. He licked his lips, his taste familiar with the face paint that usually dawned his lips. However, it was all wiped up before he got here. He was brought back here by the police after his attack at Gotham Better Health in the business plaza. 

He, honestly, didn’t know how to feel without his make-up. He didn’t just not feel like himself, but he felt naked without it. But he knew, wholeheartedly, that he’d once again wear the face paint and cause chaos again sooner rather than later.

His gaze continued, unblinking, as she sat down to talk to him. Such a lovely voice. He felt some sort of strange, sadistic attraction towards this woman. Not ‘love’ a normal person would feel, because Joker is no normal person. No, he felt something similar, but more-

Sinister.

"Just one dear-" Joker said, a smile forming behind the face mask he wore, "-why is it they send their prettiest and smartest lady doctor to see little ol’ me? One whose file said, ‘Insane, unpredictable, and a total lost cause for rehabilitation.’?" Joker, paused for a few seconds to think, then leaned in as far as his restraints would let him.

"Unless, unless you’re not their brightest doctor. Oh no no no no, they gave you to me to keep you busy while the other doctors work on more…productive and important cases." He chuckled to himself. His eyes didn’t blink. He only kept staring. “What do they really think of you? That you’re a failure? A waste of time, like me?" He laughed, “It’s sad really. You know? How they take people like us for granted?"

He leaned back. “Don’t answer those, those weren’t my questions. The first one I worked that one out myself, and the others, well, you don’t need to be sane to know the answer to those ones! No, my question is one that seems from your prospective necessary and from mine a waste of time and effort: Why restrain me?" Joker asked, hissing through the holes in his face mask.

“That’s my question."

His jab at her not being the brightest caused her smile to falter. Those bright blue eyes narrowed as she leaned in, head tilting to the side as she was finally given room to speak. “Why, you ask?” She broke their little staring contest only to roam her gaze over his form, which was restrained in every way imaginable, right down to the mask that was strapped in place. “I didn’t peg you for being a simpleton, Mr.Joker, I think you know the answer to that.”

She spoke frankly as she stated facts, and a bit cold considering her initial welcome. “You have a history of violence and have been known to lash out unpredictably with your doctors and even fellow patients. Bottom line is, you can’t be trusted.” She reclined once more, her vibrant hues fixed upon his dark ones yet again. “But maybe if you do well in these sessions, and prove you can be rehabilitated…” She gestured towards him and his restraints. “…then perhaps I can do something about granting you a bit of…leeway.”

Despite this being a preliminary meeting, Harleen wanted some notes of her own; something she wouldn’t have to hand into Jeremiah. The blonde reached into her lab coat and pulled out a small pad of paper and a pen, her gaze dropping as she jotted down some quick notes. “Now, is there anything else you’d like to ask or know before we continue?” She didn’t even bother to look up as she spoke, her attention was purposely revoked as she wrote; she knew he was a man that thrived on attention.

“Keep in mind, our sessions are limited in time, so I wouldn’t waste it trying to intimidate me.” Harleen was blunt in her last utterance, her stare raising to look upon him once more; all business. She knew it wasn’t wise to essentially tell such a man what to do; or to make any comment towards his actions, since it would only serve as a means of encouragement if he knew she saw it as intimidation.

Dr.Quinzel had seen many photos of The Joker, and seen many video clips in the news. He was always dressed immaculately, save for the messy greasepaint upon his marred features. Now that she was seeing him without it, she couldn’t deny he was a handsome man; maybe even more handsome with his former get up. She found herself laughing on the inside at the thought of preferring the ‘wild’ look he once donned, but she was certain anyone would think it was preferable over his current attire.

They wheeled him in through the double doors of Gotham’s newly renovated Arkham Asylum. His green eyes darted between all the doctors and security officers, watching him as he was carted down. He licked his lips in his face mask. He looked at several male doctors, writing down notes as he was carted down.

"Have the lambs stopped screaming, doctors?" Joker said, mimicking Hannibal Lector. He then began to cackle, struggling in his straight-jacket.

"Quiet you!" said one of the security officers, taking him to his psych evaluation.

"Oh! Someones feeling a little brave, huh?" Joker said, his eyes now locking on the back of that officers head. “I’ll be seeing you in two weeks." He then began to giggle. “You’ll also be seeing your own intestines in your hands! I brought out once, what makes you think I won’t break out again?!" He began to cackle sadistically as he was brought into a large white room.

Inside the room was a stainless steel table, a tape recorder, and a chair. Joker was carted into the other side of the table, opposite the chair. He was then parked and the security officers left his sides. He smiled as she came in, not saying a word. Not even eyeing her over, just simply looking into her eyes.

At long last, it was time to meet the notorious Clown Prince of Crime, and despite her nerves being on end, Harleen couldn’t deny the excitement that she felt building within her. She found an odd sort of thrill with the thought of being locked in a room with The Joker, albeit the countless safety precautions taken to ensure her survival of the encounter. The madman wasn’t only bound in a straitjacket, he was also secured to the very chair he was sat upon, and that chair was bolted to the floor. A panic button was also hidden with the Doctor, just incase. You could never be too careful in situations like this.

There was no escaping or wiggling free on his part; no tricks hidden up his sleeve. He was at his weakest, essentially, but even a caged tiger is dangerous, and anyone would feel intimidated to be thrown in with one.  Her fear was reconfirmed when she felt his eyes upon her as she entered the room,  his piercing gaze fixated and silently watching like a predator sizing up its prey before it pounced.

With a deep breath, Harleen situated herself across from the Clown, her vibrant blue gaze daring to match his own. It probably wasn’t wise to issue such a challenge; it was much like two territorial dogs making eye contact and staring each other down, it was a silent dare between both parties; only in this case, The Joker couldn’t do a thing to assert his Dominance. The blonde put on a good poker face, any possible fear she held previously was currently masked behind a professional façade.

The damp smell of organic fertilizer clung to the air within a large perceptively innocent greenhouse in the outskirts of Gotham. Rosemary grew near the northern entrance it’s scent overpowering most of the other planted herbs strategically placed all around in an inviting way created a winding path as to give visitors a tour. If one followed it they would reach the generic plant life that most flower gardens -geraniums, poppies, roses of every shade, tiger lilies, juniper bushes, dragon tongues and more - though they were oddly larger and more beautiful than what was normally seen. These plants seemed to vibrate with energy as the stood erect and reaching towards the roof of the green house as if wanting to grow to reach the very ceiling, perhaps they were.

Those plants continued to create a spiraling path through the intricately designed greenhouse until the scenery changed from larger than normal garden plants to something that would have made more sense to have been in a rainforest and not contained in a simple buildings. Even the floor beneath ones feet had changed from carefully manicured grass or dirt to thick green vines that would catch the unwary in their grasp. It could literally become a battle to continue forth to the center of the greenhouse for those with the patience to do so. Vines with short needle like thorns were draped camouflaged behind huge leafy plants, larger Venus fly traps loomed overhead ready to ensnare the unwary within its grasps hungry for the taste of whomever dared pass, perceptively innocent, colorful flowers grew between the vines littering the floor their sweet smell luring the unexpected to touch them and die a slow painful death once their toxins seeped through the skin. Yes, it was truly the definition of beautiful and deadly, but the true beauty was seen after one made it to the heart of it all… If they did that is.

Large mutated plants swayed in the humid and misty biochemical lab within the center, where various seeds were strewn about systematically with beakers filled with oddly colored liquid ranging from blood red to glistening gold. A Bunsen burner sat on the center of the table with a blue liquid contained in a flask coming to a slow boil above the flame … It was seemingly unattended until one looked closer at the late knot of vines in the near by corner.

Flaming red hair draped over a pale green shoulder and framed a young and beautiful face. Plump red lips glistened more from the excreting toxins than the wet heat surrounding her,and emerald green eyes watched the bubbling brew carefully. It was almost time to introduce the new concoction to her seedlings. Pamela Isley - or more commonly know recently as Poison Ivy- stood from her leafy green throne within the lab and sauntered over to the table. Turning the burner off with a simple flick of her wrist, Ivy pulled a small dish with seeds in it over spreading them out evenly inside.

Once she had made the three rows of five seeds each, the green woman grabbed the flask with the lab tongs swirling the liquid in a clockwise fashion six times and then twice in a counterclockwise fashion. “Good…" Ivy said softly, her seductive voice muted behind a veil of concentration.

Moving to tilt the mixture carefully in the plants, Ivy was interrupted by a loud crash and boom happening just outside of her greenhouse in the direction of her actual home. The grip on her tongs lessened, the mixture falling and shattering upon impact before she could react. Cursing, she steadied herself and trudged over to the large foliage blocking the southern door and moved them without so much as a flick of her wrist the plants able to sense her violent mood. Even they knew better than to bother her while she was experimenting with the seedlings. There was one thing for sure, whomever was behind the disturbance would pay… Dearly.

Opening the door, she sniffed the air frowning as the thick smell of smoke entered her nose. ‘There had better not be a fire…’ Ivy hissed summoning a few of her vines to follow her as she walked towards the impact sight. Stopping right at the edge of the disaster zone, which thankfully missed her pale pink automobile and her home by feet, she paused upon hearing a moan of pain and messy blonde hair filled with shrapnel and dirt. What the hell was this she wondered to herself, her children hovering in an menacing arc around, every other vine brandishing its needle like thorns at the mass awaiting their mistress’ command.

“Oh, look who’s awake.” Joker seemed to appear out of nowhere, his form clad in his signature suit, that notorious grin playing on his lips as he strode forward. Harley’s gaze dropped, she couldn’t look at him. Tears welled up of their own accord, but she refused to let them fall. “Y’have a nice nap, Harls?” A gloved hand roughly patted at her cheek before gripping at her chin and forcing her to look at him. “Y’know, I’ve been thinkin’...” His stare was cold, but his tone suggested humor. “…I think we need to take a little break. Give us both some space. Expand our horizons. Test the waters.” He was sarcastic in his little speech, and purposely threw out overused lines. "It’s not you...” He released his hold and straightened out, a purple gloved hand cupping over his chest as he shook his head, a mock form of regret playing on his features.”...it’s me. “

Harley didn’t know what to say, all she felt was a sense of utter abandonment seeping in. Her breathing was shaky and rapid; she was beginning to panic.

“Ah, who am I kiddin’. It’s you.” Without warning, Joker pressed down on a detonator, the switch creating an immediate response from the rocket Harley was strapped to. With a violent surge of force, the clown girl was whisked away, the last thing she saw was The Joker’s fading image, and his only farewell was an over enthusiastic wave.

She was completely helpless; no one to save her; no way to escape her current predicament. But despite the fear that she Should have been feeling, she was still lost in the moment passed; heartbroken from the Clown’s rejection. Any sane person would have been screaming their head off. But Harley was utterly silent, tears falling freely now that he wasn’t there to look upon her. “Why?” She asked silently, before gathering her wits and a sense of rage overcame her.

Luckily, flames from beneath the rocket had burnt through the rope near her feet and gave her room to wiggle the ties enough to loosen them, bit by bit. The ground was nearing fast, and Harley would be damned if it was going to end this way.

Moving quickly, Harley’s lithe form squirmed until she had enough leeway to turn around. Gloved hands gripped at the sides of the heated rocket, essentially holding on for dear life as it neared impact. Moments before it hit the ground, she jumped. The ground she landed on was soft and plush; grass, but the area in which the rocket landed was torn asunder, and Harley was still near enough to be affected by the damage. Her suit was torn in various places, her cowl all but gone. She lay near the crater of impact, dirty, bloody and broken. In more ways than one.