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♡♦♡ I NEED NO INTRODUCTION ♡♦♡
Dr. Joan Leland, a woman of medicine with many years under her belt, was shaking hands with the innocent and energetic Harleen Frances Quinzel. This was three years ago, when she applied for a job at Arkham Asylum, and thirty minutes after a wild frenzy had happened. Before she could even introduce herself to the staff, a highly dangerous inmate — now as one of Harley's closest friends — by the name of the Croc had gotten loose. And she, in fact, was the only person who managed to take him down with nothing but a fire distinguisher.
Within thirty minutes, everyone knew who Harleen Quinzel was, their hero. The first to thank her was Dr. Leland, the head psychiatrist at Arkham. The Crocs loud growls were heard all throughout the building as he was being hauled out by a dozen guards.
"Harleen Quinzel, correct," the black-haired woman smiled as she shook the blond's alabaster hand, "I don't think we've gotten the chance to formally meet. I'm Joan Leland."
Harleen smiled. "Hi, Joan. Call me Harley. Everyone does."
The head psychiatrist nodded, leading her away from the scene. The two women started walking down a long hallway. On either side of them were the cells that house Arkham's most dangerous inmates.
"I must admit I was surprised you wanted to intern here at Arkham, more so when you just... took Mr. Jones like that," she said, deeply interested in what Dr. Quinzel had to offer to the table. Just talent, she gushes in her hand. She is utterly amazed.
Harley looked away from her somewhat sheepishly. Her gaze fell on an inmate sitting in her cell, Jane Challis, also known as Crazy Jane. She was rocking back in fourth in her tiny cell, staring at a blank wall. Her face was turned away from her, so she couldn't catch her features or expressions, but she instantly knew she was a beautiful girl.
Then, her eyes landed on another inmate, Pamela Isley — or Poison Ivy. She was in a cell next to Jane's, tending to a plant. She looked so sad... so lonely. It was like that little plant she was caring was her only will to live, the only thing keeping her afloat. Joan was quick to notice her interest in the patients. She cautioned her as they paused in the middle of the hallway.
"I'll warn you right now: These are hard-core psychotics," Dr. Leland explains. "If you're thinking about cashing in on them..." Harley's eyes went wide as she sees something. "... by writing a tell-all book, think again."
Harley moved over to where the Joker was casually reclining against the wall in his cell. He was whistling a carefree tune, seemingly at peace with the world. He watched her, also. Sitting in his room at the very bottom of that criminally insane hell, the Joker was fascinated. He was just listening to several different accounts from both staff and patients. They all told the same story about the beauty whom saved them from the crocodile.
