#corrupted identity

Simone had always been the kind of person who trusted easily.

At twenty, the world still felt bright to her—safe, predictable, full of people who meant what they said. She laughed easily, smiled at strangers, and never thought twice about a message from a friend.

So when her phone buzzed with a text from “Tori,” she didn’t hesitate.

hey girl, can you meet me? kinda urgent.

There was an address underneath—one she didn’t recognize.

Simone frowned for a moment. It wasn’t anywhere she and Tori usually went. No emojis either, which was a little weird.

Still… urgent was urgent.

She grabbed her jacket and headed out.

The area felt wrong the second she arrived.

Too quiet. Too empty.

Not the kind of place Tori would pick.

Simone hesitated at the entrance to the abandoned building, glancing down at her phone again.

“…Tori?” she called as she stepped inside.

Her voice echoed back at her.

No answer.

A slow unease crept into her chest.

“This isn’t funny…” she muttered, taking a few cautious steps forward.

That’s when she saw it.

A screen.

Mounted against the far wall—out of place, humming faintly in the silence.

“…okay, that’s weird…” she said under her breath, drawn toward it despite herself.

It flickered once.

Then went dark.

The door slammed shut behind her.

She spun—

A sharp hiss filled the air.

Bright green gas began pouring from vents along the walls, thick and fast, curling through the space.

Simone staggered back, coughing. “What—what is this?!”

The screen snapped back on.

A spiraling pattern bloomed across it—black and red, slowly rotating inward, pulling the eye deeper with every turn.

“Hey now…”

Her attention snapped away from the door—

And locked onto the screen.

“…what…?”

The Joker stepped into view behind her, watching with quiet satisfaction.

“Don’t look away,” he said casually, almost conversational.

Her eyes twitched—

Tried to move—

Didn’t.

The spiral turned.

Slow.

Endless.

Drawing her in.

“Good,” he murmured, stepping closer. “That’s it. Just focus right there.”

The gas thickened around her, but it didn’t just make her lightheaded—

It shifted something.

A strange, creeping sensation curled through her mind.

Not quite dizziness.

Not quite confusion.

Something sharper.

Something unstable.

Like the edges of her thoughts were starting to warp… bend… slip out of place.

Her breathing hitched.

“…something’s… wrong…” she whispered.

“Oh, something’s very right,” he corrected softly.

The spiral pulsed faintly.

Her vision tunneled.

“That feeling?” he continued. “That little pull in your head… like things are tilting just a bit too far?”

Her lips parted.

“…yeah…”

“Mmhm.” His voice lowered, threading through the distortion. “That’s the start of it.”

The spiral tightened.

“That’s what happens when your mind stops holding everything together so tightly…”

Her stance wavered.

“…and starts letting go.”

The pressure built—not painful, but undeniable.

A subtle, thrilling wrongness.

Like laughter bubbling up at the worst possible moment.

Like the urge to smile when nothing was funny.

“…I…” she tried to speak, but her words slipped.

“You don’t need to fight it,” he said gently. “In fact… you can’t.”

The spiral turned.

Her thoughts followed.

“Just watch.”

Her resistance thinned.

“Just listen.”

Her focus narrowed.

“And let that feeling pull you deeper…”

A shaky breath escaped her.

Then—

“…okay…”

Her posture softened.

Eyes fixed.

Mind opening.

Time slipped.

________________________________________________________________

At some point before she fully came to again, things had… changed.

Her clothes were different.

Tighter. Structured. Split into bold blocks of red and black, the material clinging in a way that felt unfamiliar yet strangely right. Gloves hugged her hands, and something snug framed her head.

She didn’t question it.

The thought didn’t stick long enough to matter.

When she was aware again, she was somewhere new.

A hideout.

Chaotic. Colorful. Wrong in a way that felt… oddly exciting.

And in front of her—

A chamber.

Glass walls. Sealed tight. Filled with a slow, constant swirl of green gas.

Simone tilted her head, studying it.

“…that’s kinda pretty…” she murmured, a faint, unfocused smile tugging at her lips.

The Joker stepped beside her, watching her reaction closely.

“Like it?” he asked.

She nodded slowly.

“…yeah…”

“Good,” he said. “Because that’s where you get better.”

Her eyes flicked to him.

“…better…?”

“More in sync,” he clarified. “More fun. More… you.”

That strange pull flickered again in her mind—familiar now.

Inviting.

“…feels nice…” she admitted quietly.

He smiled.

“Then go on.”

No hesitation this time.

She reached for the door, a small, eager energy creeping into her movements.

“…okay… Mister J…”

The name slipped out—slightly off, not quite what it would become, but close.

He didn’t correct her.

The chamber opened.

She stepped inside.

And this time—

She inhaled deeply.

The gas rushed in, thick and immediate.

Her eyes fluttered.

And the door sealed shut.

The loop began.

Not a conversation.

Not guidance.

A system.

Relentless. Repeating. Inescapable.

The chamber walls lit faintly—

And the spiral returned.

Black and red.

Endless.

Rotating slowly on every surface.

Above.

Around.

Everywhere she looked.

And beneath it—

His voice.

Not speaking to her.

Just… playing.

Over.

And over.

And over.

“Harley.”

A pause.

“Harley.”

A breath.

“Harley.”

The name echoed, layered over itself.

Sinking deeper each time.

“Smile, Harley.”

Her lips twitched.

Then lifted.

“Good, Harley.”

A soft giggle slipped out.

“Deeper, Harley.”

She inhaled again, instinctively.

The gas thickened.

The spiral pulled.

“Let go, Harley.”

Her thoughts loosened.

Edges blurring.

Connections snapping.

“Laugh, Harley.”

A giggle.

Then another.

Then something brighter. Sharper.

“Good, Harley.”

The loop continued.

Unchanging.

Unstoppable.

Time didn’t pass.

It unraveled.

Moments stretched, folded, repeated until they lost all meaning.

There was no beginning.

No middle.

Just the loop.

The spiral.

The gas.

The name.

“Harley.”

“Harley.”

“Harley.”

Every repetition pressed it deeper.

Until it wasn’t a suggestion.

It wasn’t a change.

It was a fact.

At some point, something else tried to surface.

A shape without form.

A name without meaning.

It flickered—

And the loop rolled over it instantly.

“Harley.”

The shape cracked.

“Harley.”

It dissolved.

“Harley.”

Gone.

There was nothing to replace.

Nothing missing.

There had only ever been Harley.

When the chamber finally opened, the gas spilling outward in thick waves, she stepped out without hesitation.

Stretching.

Grinning wide.

Eyes bright with chaotic energy.

“Ooooh, that was fun!” she chirped, bouncing slightly on her toes. “Can we do it again? Pleeease tell me we can do it again!”

The Joker watched her carefully.

Silent for a moment.

Then—

“Well?” he prompted.

She lit up instantly, spinning toward him with manic enthusiasm.

“I’m Harley!” she beamed. “Your Harley! Your favorite Harley! The best one there is!”

Her laugh burst out—loud, sharp, infectious.

He raised a brow.

“And before?”

She blinked.

Tilting her head slightly.

“…before what?” she said, genuinely confused for half a second—

Then laughed it off like it was the dumbest question imaginable.

“I’ve always been Harley, silly!” she giggled, leaning into him with eager familiarity. “Who else would I be?”

A beat.

Then he smiled.

“Exactly.”

That was all the confirmation she needed.

Her grin stretched even wider.

“Ooooh, Mistah J, we gotta go do somethin’ fun!” she bounced, tugging at his arm. “Like—like chaos! Or crime! Or both! Definitely both!!”

Her laughter rang out—wild, bright, completely unhinged.

And perfectly aligned.

The Joker chuckled, letting her pull him along.

After all—

There was never anyone else to erase.

Only Harley to bring out.

And now?