[Flashback] If I Only Had a Crane [Scarecrow]

[Deleted]

Harleen walked up a building shaped like an airplane hanger, where the roof was bent in an arch form, resting on a flattened rectangle. Big yellow letters read The Stacked Deck in cursive, with Deck being in smaller letters below the word “Stacked.” This was the first time that Harleen had been to a place as sleazy-sounding as this joint. She half-expected cocktail waitresses walking around showing off their gams in fishnet stockings while grinning from ear-to-ear just to earn tips to make a living.

Shady-looking men in business suits, exhaled dense cigarette smoke from their foul lips; creating voluptuous wisps of smoke that stretched heaven-bound but stopped just before reaching the ceiling. Their fedoras were placed on the wooden table surfaces, resting beside a small glass half-full of Bourbon and ice. Green coolie lights hung above each table and cast down a dull glow to everyone playing cards below them. Drowsy eyes shift from card-hand to the stack of money placed in the middle of the table while others slide their hand through their greasy black hair as odds turn against them. Pool balls clack as they collide into each other, after the wooden sticks with the blue tips prod them into scattering across the green felt surface of the pool tables.

Harleen was not use to this kind of setting, especially when she felt like walking onto the movie set of Casablanca. She was wearing a brown trench coat and hiding her baby blues behind a pair of black, glossy shades in order to hide her identity. Her hair was pulled back in a pony tail. Her fear was obvious and not as well hidden due to her timid body language. To Harleen, she felt like a lost kitten stumbling upon an area full of junk yard dogs. She checked the note The Joker had given her and made her way through the grabbing, pinching and slapping hands that found their way to her rump. She squeaked and ran over to the man tending the bar, a little out of breath. “I-I’m looking for Boxy Bennett. I got something for him.” She placed down a cardboard papered package on the bar and looked around the sleazy joint. She swallowed hard and silently reminded herself that she was doing this for The Joker. She figured this was a test of will, a test of guts, and most importantly, a test of herself and how far she would go for him. If it meant overcoming her fears of unknown places then she would be able to handle the wolf whistles and cat-calls.

Her heart was racing but she lift her chin up and tried to look as cool and composed as she could. She flinched and backed away a few steps when one of the men woofed and pretended to bite at her. She bumped against the bar and felt her fists tighten. “Knock it off creep!” She shouted, feeling her anger rise up within her. She had a gun in her purse and was tempted to use it. That’ll make them respect her! Yeah, she’s show them! -At least that’s what she thought until she spotted a gun strapped to a guy’s chest when he reached for the cash in the middle of the table. Another guy opened his coat to show a fellow member that he was carrying. Harleen swallowed again and turned in time to see the bartender calling the boss on a cell phone. She overheard the man mention having a package waiting for him and that some dame in an overcoat was waiting for him. He nodded once and hung up, then resumed pouring alcoholic drinks to a man while mentioning, “He’ll be down in a minute.”

“Phew!” Harleen said and snatched the drink up before the paying man could. She drank it down quickly for her nerves were a wreck. At last she turned to see a well-dressed man with a carnation on his front pocket come down the stairs. He had a thin mustache and a set of facial creases that defined him as older. He had an heir of arrogance about him and Harleen noted when he smirked a confident grin and adjusted his tie. She felt ill inside, for he was no better than all the other jerks she was surrounded with. She was in way over her head but at least it was all for a good cause. She ignored the protests of the man she stole a drink from and stepped forward as Boxy approached, sliding the box across the bar to him.

“Hiya doll.” The owner grinned, reminding Harley of a scavenger. “What brings a cutie like you in Boxy Bennett’s social club?” His flat top and well-groomed mustache was no different than The Joker’s perfectly cut hair and fancy suit, suggesting that they look their best at all times in order to be taken seriously. But at the same time, this guy reeked of being a player, a pig and a flirt. She could use that against him and prove that she can handle herself any where.

“I gotta message for ya Boxy.” Harleen raised her shades to the top of her head and smiled sweet and innocent-like. “From Mistah J. himself.” She slid the small box over to him and rest her hand on her hip in a flirtatious pose. She could feel his lust radiating through his eyes and expected to see him salivate. And if he got too close, she could always smash the glass into his head and take off running, hopefully before the bullets could reach her.

“You mean your not tonight’s entertainment?” Boxy laughed and tugged on Harleen’s trench coat belt to bring her closer to him. His breath reeked of fine booze, unlike the watered down swill the barkeep was serving. He had a strong grip on her and it would be hard to be able to get away unless she did something drastic or outwitted him.

Harleen simply placed the box between them and held it up to his eye level. “Don’tcha wanna see what’s inside? I doubt The Joker will be pleased to know that you waited so long to have a peek.”

Boxy’s eyes grew wide as her words sunk in. “T-The Joker?” He let go and backed up, expecting a bomb to be inside. When it came to that insane clown, anything could be in the package. He felt his heart leap in his throat and collided with someone who was seated in their chair playing poker. He scrambled past the protesting player and looked around to see that everyone was staring. He was the boss of this establishment, he had to look tough in front of them, no matter what was being offered to him. He cleared his throat and fixed his cuffs. “Did he say what’s inside?”

Harleen shook her head for she had no clue. She had just recently become The Joker’s hench-wench and was unfamiliar with his gifts. For all she knew it could be someone’s finger in a box, or a wrist watch, or a figurine. Her eyes narrowed to curiosity the moment Boxy backed up and she realized that she had control over him in that moment. Her confidence soared and her grin began to spread behind blood-red lips. “What’s wrong baby? Do you prefer airmail?” She tossed the box at him and watched with fascination as the man struggled to catch the box in case it was a bomb, while wanting to toss it as far from him as he could in case it were to explode. Harleen had never seen a man so terrified in all her life when receiving a gift and simply laughed at the spectacle.

“Buh-byeeee!” She bent her head to the side, giving Boxy a pleasant grin and waved like she would at a baby before turning to leave. She happily skipped toward the exit, finding her performance to have been good enough under the circumstances and imagined her new lover grinning at how well she had done. She paused in the doorway to see what the psychopathic clown had given Boxy.

With trembling hands Boxy handed it over to one of the body guards and instructed them to open it outside by using the backdoor. Harleen was curious to see what it was but knew that she had to return to her beloved before he wondered what was taking him so long.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

It was a difficult night for The Scarecrow. His ragged clothes hid the bumps and bruises that had occurred from an accident with a patient earlier in the night. Sometimes accidents happened and not every patient was the best subject. But ever since he was removed from Arkham Asylum’s staff and incarcerated in their program he had no choice but to reach other to extra alternatives. Any subject would do as long as they were of sound mind, but The Scarecrow didn’t always win the best patient regardless. In his small, one person shack he barely had the room to work let alone keep multiple patients. So now, another man’s blood was on the floor due to his own incompetence and he was once again without a test subject.

This brought him to a dive of a bar tonight. In most instances he would have stayed at the Iceberg but on this side of town currently he would have rather came here. The doctor came here enough to where they had his own booth for him. Each time that they would put light back in it he would simply reach up and unscrew the bulb, so they stopped putting one in it all together and kept the booth open for him. Dr. Crane would always order the same thing, a club sandwich and a glass of scotch on the rocks.

The doctor stared down at the questionable plate of food in front of him. It was the same routine as always when he came here. The bar was filled with the sounds of drunken criminals and less than productive members of Gotham’s society. Smoke filled the air, but it would never have an effect on his lungs, not that he chose to smoke either. It was a habit that men chose to do out of fear for lack of something to do. A terrible habit that quickly turned from psychological to physiological. It was an incredibly stupid choice to make but men were often drawn to fear as much as they ran from it. There was no intent in his mind of eating the food in front of him. Although he always ordered the same thing, not once had he actually taken a bite. To do so would be to say that he participated in the act of consumption, which when asked he would quickly decline.

His poison on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. Scotch was one thing that he didn’t mind consuming as long as he limited himself to two glasses. It was necessary for several reasons, but none of them he’d actually admit to. But the doctor could often be found drinking alone if he was caught in a social area.

A small ruckus came from the side of where he was sitting. He could see the front of the bar and a woman that seemed to be hassling the bartender. He could see the fear in his eyes as she spoke it low murmurs compared to the roar of the bar. Her eyes were hidden however they had caught his attention through the darkness of her sunglasses. What did she have to hide? She was small framed underneath the large coat she wore. If she was trying to hide that it couldn’t get past his anatomic sight. A he saw the package being opened Dr. Crane left his seat and went immediately into the hall and out the back door. He wasn’t going to stick around to see something like that happen at the stacked deck, he had been involved one too many times with strange packages. The ignorant could sit and watch.

He had something more important on his mind. The woman was going to leave the bar and he was going to follow her. She was small in stature and frame she would be easily handled and brought as a sufficient replacement from his last failed experiment. He walked down the alley and lingered at the corner waiting for her to turn it.

In the shadows he would stalk her.

[Deleted]

Once outside, Harleen plucked a pink cell phone from her purse and dialed a number. She smiled once a voice at the other end spoke up. “Hiya boss! I did just as you said! Yeah he seemed really thrilled about the gift ya sent him.”

Boom! -Came the sound of an explosion, followed by some coughing.

The former clinical psychoanalyst turned to look back inside the Stacked Deck. A lot of the staff ran outside in a panic, almost knocking Harleen over as they fled. She fumbled for her phone and placed it back up against her ear. “That? It sounded like a bomb went off.” She winced and pulled the phone away from her ear as her boss laughed merrily from the other end. She peered inside the sleazy building to see that one of the staff had opened the box. His face was coated in black powder and confetti. He was a little taken back from the force of the explosion and stumbled back inside. He lift his hand up and pulled a yellow streamer off of his head before collapsing.

Harleen giggled and replied with, “I think he got the message. Yeah, I can be home soon. What do ya want for dinner? …Oh.” Her voice sounded disappointed and her shoulders sagged as Boxy Bennett’s men slowly entered the building again. “No, Chinese is fine. What ever you say boss.” She opened her mouth to say ‘I love you’ but was cut off in mid-sentence. She drew the phone back and stared at it, blinking in surprise that he was so quick to hang up, then simply closed the phone and stuck it back into her purse in thinking that The Joker was probably too busy to talk or he was in too much pain to hold up the phone for long. After all, it was just a day or two ago when she had broke him out of the prison. The poor thing had a broken arm and had a concussion after The Batman had dragged him in. As angry as she was for seeing the aftermath of what had happened between the fight of the clown prince of crime and the dark knight, she was rather pleased to be the one to take care of him and let him rest. Sure she was looking forward to cooking for him but he wanted Chinese for dinner. That’s okay, she will get to hand feed it to him while he ordered around the new hires.

An excited smile grew upon the young woman’s lips the more she thought about her new boyfriend. He looked so cute all bandaged up and trembling with rage when the others failed to follow his simple orders. But today she proved to be worthy of handling a job and knew that she would return home to an open embrace; and if she was lucky, perhaps a kiss! Oh the thought made her smile even more and a girlish squeal of delight escaped her lips. She laughed and spun around with her arms wide open, her purse flying on the air while Harleen’s hands held onto the straps and tilt her head back to enjoy the fabulous feeling of love. And then her purse struck someone. She stopped and drew in all her limbs immediately. Her finger rose up to her mouth where she placed the knuckle below her incisors and gave an innocent grin to the one she may have offended. “Oops. I got a little carried away.” She chuckled. She pulled her purse out from the civilian’s breadbasket and watched as they grumbled something about ‘kids these days,’ then continued on her journey into town. She was eager to get to the Chinese Restaurant and order take-out for her beloved, but stopped in her tracks to fish around in her purse for the cell phone, dialing the same number as before.

“Hey, it’s me again. Did you want extra sweet and sour sauce or that other kind?” She turned and walked back as she spoke, unknowingly heading toward Crane and stopped short just before the corner. She tilt her head against the phone while shifting her weight onto the other foot. “Yeah, I’ll remember the fortune cookies. What gave you an idea? …Okay, I’ll see you….” She stared at the phone again after he had just hung up then flipped the lid down and placed her cell back into the purse. She turned around and started walking toward the end of the street again and became distracted by a flat, round piece of metal alloy.

“Gum money!” She grinned and placed the new found quarter into her purse. She stood up again and looked ahead of her to where the Chinese eatery would be. “I wonder if they have a gum ball dispenser?” She sat there and contemplated whether or not she had seen one. Her concentration was interrupted when a car drove through a puddle, sending a small wave of dirty water to gush onto the sidewalk and threaten to splash her.

"Watch where you're driving!" Harleen shouted and checked her coat and shoes for any signs of dirt. So far so good, but it was a close call. Her anger quickly fizzled out as the thought of bringing home dinner for her one true love. She picked up the pace by skipping, and reached the outside of the City Wok and entered through the doors merrily. She took out a one-hundred dollar bill and ordered a fifty dollar meal she was certain she could share between she and her adorable, healing patient at home. "I want extra sweet and sour sauce for the chicken. Oh, and about twenty fortune cookies with extra fortune inside."

She took a number and sat down, but she did not stay down for long. It was apparent that she grew bored easily and got up to wander around the tiny shop. There in the corner was a 100 gallon aquarium full of many types of fish. She grinned and tapped the glass, giggling as the fish darted away from her red press on nails and hid behind the fake rocky decor.

Harleen began humming while waiting for her order and continued to tap her red nails against the fish tank in time with her humming then stroked the aquarium‘s glass with her fingertips the moment she saw the clown fish. “My love let me go again. Right back, back to the top of the slide…down. Sad clown. Oh oh oh oh oh. My clown let me love you. What’s that? Back to the back of the rebound. Clowning around. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh. Hey boss would you take me out tonight? I’m not afraid of all the reasons why we shouldn’t try. Hey boss would you make me out tonight? I get excited when I think of climbing into your eyes.” Her voice sounded very childish with a high pitched tone soothed over by an almost breathless whisper, giving the woman a well-balanced range between sad to glad. She looked back at the pick up counter when her food was wrapped in bags and ready to go. She gladly picked up the food while continuing to hum and stopped short when seeing the candy machines. Hungrily, her baby blues searched the dispensers and frowned when they didn’t have her favorite. She wrinkled her nose at the selection of jumbled fruit, the icky black liquorice and the hot tamales, then turned her eyes onto a third machine that produced stickers. “Ooh, pretty!" She found another quarter, placed it and the previous quarter into the machine, pushed the slot in and out popped out a sticker. She quickly opened it and looked. It was a blue, claw tribal butterfly sticker with outstretched wings and sharp black ends that emphasized the image. Satisfied by this, Harleen stuck it into her coat pocket, picked up the bags and set out the door once more.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane had removed himself from the building just in time before the explosion went off. He was bounced back to the other wall and dust filled the alley. There were several people that had made it out and pushed by him but he paid them no mind. He only shielded his eyes and kept enough of a watch on the goal he was going for. The young blonde had stopped in the street and given him a chance to get closer but still remain unseen. It sounded like she was talking to someone, through an earpiece or a phone that he couldn’t see through the dust. She was working for someone, but who would she be working for in this part of town?

The possibilities were endless.

The dust cleared as she walked forward, unaware of the shadow that was stalking her nearby. He kept to what welcomed him the most. The street lights filled the cities but they always cast large shadows that welcomed him into their sweet embrace. It had been some time since he was willing to stalk someone for no particular reason rather than to really want them as a replacement. The woman struck someone but seemed to think nothing of it. He observed her features and her reactions as quickly as they happened. She had little remorse for others and was quite clumsy to say the least. Her mind was distracted and fully focused elsewhere. He couldn’t help but wonder what fears were driving her there.

He had turned around a corner and come out on the other side in front of he. But he hadn’t came out of the shadows yet. He stayed there and waited for her to get closer. She was still on the phone. They came near an establishment, some kind of Chinese place. Dr. Crane didn’t care much for these places, he never ate out, simply because he never ate. People could say they saw him order things, and he may have. But the truth remained that anything he ever ordered he would never eat. It would be a rare sight indeed to see the doctor take a bite of anything.

She went inside and he stayed outside for a moment. The people of Gotham city recodnized him easily. His face was very famous considering all the trials and the news media that covered him. He pulled his trench up a bit and popped his collar. He made sure that he removed his glasses and but them in his pocket. Instead he pulled out a pair of large sunglasses that covered a good portion of his face. He needed them to stay out of the public view. He had no fear of these people of lesser intelligence, he had no fear of anyone or anything. But Dr. Crane was a smart man, he knew that there was a place to cause a stir and there was a place that he shouldn’t. While he was stalking someone was not a good time to cause commotion or draw attention to his person.

Instead of going inside he looked through the window, watching her as she flaunted about. A few people turned to look at his but attention was not drawn to the faceless man. He was patient and instead he turned from the window and pulled a needle out of his pocket. He uncapped it with his mouth and then recovered a small clear bottle from his other pocket. The color alone proved that it wasn’t fear toxin, the realization of her fears would come later. Instead he filled the sedative into the needle and then dipped back into the shadows. Just as he was prepared she came out the door and around the corner.

The doctor sprung out of the shadows and immediately grabbed her around the throat, he stabbed the needle into his neck and pushed the head down until she slowly, slowly fell limp into his arms.

“Shhh Hush….Hush…Let darkness sooth you before all you have left to lull you to sleep is the sound of your own screams echoing in your mind..” He husked to her ear until she went completely out. He checked her pulse which was beating now slowly and steadily. She was light, light as a feather almost and he was able to lift her over his shoulder easily.

The doctor stuck to the shadows on the way home to his apartment on the eastern dive of town. He was a tenant there but it was damn nearly deserted. He had an entire floor to himself and used nearly every room. The owners of the building and the tennants themselves knew better than to ask questions and for the most part left him entirely alone. He placed the limp body in his dark room and shut the door behind them. The light burnt out as soon as he flipped the switch and he left her there to obtain another. He locked it behind him just incase she decided to wake, it wouldn’t be much longer. A few moments later he came back with a bulb, but again shut the door behind him to sait himself in darkness.

[Deleted]

Harleen was so surprised by the sudden attack that she had dropped the food she was carrying and then winced when steel was forced into her throat. Her eyes were wide mostly from the pain and she began to whimper. Oh how she HATED needles! This one especially hurt since there was no care for her suffering, causing her to tremble within the grip of her stalker. Never mind the fact that she was being kidnapped, for all of her childhood traumas with needles had come flooding back. Sure she was offered a sucker at the end of each doctor visit, but she had a sneaky suspicion that she would not be receiving one after this sudden attack.

Instinctively she began to replace her soft vocalizations with silence when he coo’d in her ear, like a father telling his little girl to remain calm while his presence chased away the monsters out from under the bed; unknowing that the monster was really the one holding her. His last words where what really struck fear into her heart for they were no longer pleasant but a warning of horrible things to come. She knit her brow in protest that what he just said wasn’t all that soothing to begin with, but she was out before she could even comment. Her eyes began to close as she weakly tried to lift her head but his hand kept her bent forward so that she could not see his face. Her body was succumbing to the effects of the contents of the needle and she was losing the battle to remain awake. Darkness embraced her as the world around her became distant with both vision and sounds of traffic fading into the background. The last thing she could remember was feeling the hand forcing her forward while the other kept her from falling. At least she would not have to worry about hitting her head on the pavement after the blackout. Right?

Later on that evening, Harleen slowly opened her eyes and blinked a few times in order to get past the feeling of being groggy. She moved even more slowly as she sat up and allowed her hand to tend to the dull, throbbing pain in her neck by rubbing it gently. Stupid needle. There was no doubt it would leave a bruise and she didn't get any candy for it either! Candy always made things better and in this case she would definitely need some ice cream or a shake to feel better from what she had just been through.

With a moan she attempted to look around in the pitch black room while her other senses picked up a stale scent and the ground felt cold. She slowly lift her head and raised her upper body by pushing up on her forearms to look around. Her heart began to thump as the hairs on the back of her neck rose as a random thought had occurred to her. She half-expected to see a strategically-placed television in the room, magically turn on to show a glimpse of snow and static followed by the flickering image of a pale-faced puppet with red spirals painted on his cheeks. “Hello Harleen. You don’t know me but I know you. I want to play a game.” Is all that the puppet would say. That thought alone caused Harleen to quickly sit up in her cell and check her hands, feet and throat in case there was a deadly trap strapped on her. Luckily, there wasn’t.

She exhaled a sigh of relief and glanced around out of curiosity. Where was she? One moment she was leaving the restaurant and now… what? Was she being punished for delivering the box to the wrong man named Boxy? No, she double checked the address before entering into the Stacked Deck. Did she not get enough orange chicken? No, she had plenty of chicken to feed up to five people. Was this another test? That had to have been it. Another test. Well, she would pass this test just like she passed the other one. Delivering a box to some thug in a pool hall and bar was one thing, but the relocation of being in a dark room was another. The scent of fear and abandonment was deafening and yet she could feel anger slowly welling up inside the more she thought about what had happened. Who had the gall the give her a shot when she least expected it? Half enraged and half terrified by her circumstance, a small audible whimper escaped her lips while part of that whimper turned into a growl as her anger grew from having been attacked in the first place; without having a chance to fight back. She closed her eyes and slowly rose to her feet, then followed through with a deep breath, which was inhaled through her nose before she shouted, “You big jerk! I don‘t go around stabbing you in the neck!”/color] Her voice was loud enough to hurt her own ears. There was a tremor of fear and uncertainty in her tone that mingled with rage. Mentally she was telling herself that nothing would go wrong and that she was brave enough to handle what ever would come her way, and that this way of thinking was justified because she refused to allow anyone to push her around because The Joker wouldn’t let anyone to push him around. Well whatever the case, she would be prepared! She turned to feel around in the dark and ran smack into the wall. She grabbed her nose to dull the pain and took a step back.

“Ow!” She complained loudly, letting her capture hear the quivering vulnerability squeak out in her tone before she kicked at the wall to get revenge. “Would it kill ya to use a little light in here!?” She shouted up at the ceiling with her fists clenched. When no one answered, she decided it best to feel around in the dark to get a better understanding of where she was. Her hands felt along the wall as she walked alongside it, now turning away from her stalker and creating distance between them. So far there was nothing in the room that she could find useful... yet.

“Let me guess, I’m in solitary confinement? Or maybe I'm in one of the intensive treatment rooms back at Arkham?” She gingerly walked around the room with a slight skip in her step, enjoying the guessing game. Her palm felt something hard and jagged as she slid her fingertips across the wall. She stopped and felt what it was and pulled it out from the wall. She narrowed her eyes and felt it, not understanding that it was a fingernail that had broke off and embedded itself into the wall during a frantic person’s sad attempt to get out and away from what ever it was they were afraid of. Harley shrugged and tossed the keratin piece away from her as she continued forward. She had gone around the room with nothing to bump into her knees, nothing to trip over, and nothing to feel except for one light switch. She positioned her finger over the switch, running the tip of her finger along it as her imagination sketched out it’s shape and size. She knew what it was and tapped end of it to toy with the idea of whether she would use it or not.

Harley felt her training and studying return to her as she began to slip into her psychoanalyst mode. She walked over to the middle of the room and plopped down on the floor. Her legs were tucked under her in an Indian-style position with her hands placed on the ground facing away from her and the elbows locked. She looked up at the ceiling in thought, out of habit, even though it did not matter where she was looking in order to think, for the entire room was dark and any direction could be used for “seeing” her thoughts by use of imagination. “Nice place ya got here. It’s some sort of sensory deprivation room, isn’t it? Something that intensifies your emotions when visual stimuli and touch is removed. But since I’ve been placed in here, you expect my emotional anxiety to intensify since I can’t tell where I am or who has captured me. You want me in a state of panic due to not knowing what’ll happen to me next, thus raising the question of whether or not if I’ll survive, right? All of this just so I can spill the beans about where Mistah J. is, right? Well nerts to you Arkham! I ain’t telling you anything because I know I’ll stay calm if I don’t turn on the lights. I’m in control of this environment and I’ve caught glimpses of how you tease your patients with your little tricks. And the least I know about this place it can’t scare me into talking. Besides, I kinda like it in here. It‘s been a while since I‘ve been on my own and it gives me a sense of freedom with no responsibility and even a chance for some fun.” She stood up, raising her hands and arms into the air to spin around on her heels The room gave little breeze against her skin as she turned about. She could feel her brain getting dizzy by the movement and laughed at how fun it was to feel carefree and entertained by her own amusement. Her laughter filled the room and echoed back to her, filling her ears with liberation and confidence that she was going to be okay. “You can’t fool me Jere-bear, I worked for you. I know how you are.”

It was then that she bumped into a body in the darkness, someone who wasn’t there before. She backed off by a step or two as her eyes grew large from surprise as fear jolted her. Her mind imagined the worst case scenario of running into a patient from Arkham in case she had been captured and placed into another inmate's cell. Or maybe it was Arkham himself standing there, grinning in the dark while listening to her deduction. Or was it The Joker?

Her heart flooded with relief when she expected to hear her love’s voice again, to hear him tell her she was wrong about him being Arkham followed through with a laugh of amusement. Her smile began to grow as she considered seeing the green-haired lunatic again, the occasional soft expression that his eyes gave her and the tight smirk that followed. But no, the person in front of her didn’t smell like The Joker. There wasn’t laughter that filled her “cell.“ Her hands reached out to feel the body for more information as she forced herself to swallow. Was it Arkham or an inmate? A doctor perhaps? The feel of the clothes would tell her everything. She brought up her free hand and arm close to her body and positioned them at an angle to protect her throat in case the person would attack.
"I-is that you, Puddin'?" She asked with a quivering voice.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

There was certainly no candy waiting for her in the darkness. She would only find and realize her own fears from this point out. He had kept an eye on the injection in her neck and aside from a light bruising from the struggle she would, in the end, survive the prick. Unless she began to dig at it; if that were the case his investigation into her mind would only become that much more involved and that much more deep. This was far more than any terrible game she could ever think of in her head. This was far worse than any nightmare she could concoct on her own, he was the nightmare in the room and now he had come for her.

Her shouts in the dark were finally heard, at a volume that was more real than her ears probably imagined. The world around her was dim and closed in. Her eyes adjusting would become nigh- impossible unless he let a sliver of light in. That would come in time. The reason her voice was so loud was because the walls were padded. Only he and she could hear the passing echoes of her screams, the world would never even know that her thrills of terror were buried behind these walls.

He refused to answer her as she barked in the dark, stumbling around as she wanted. Dr. Crane had done this too many times before, he was able to sense her and move around her. He knew the exact width of the room and exactly where everything was in it. As a precaution, everything was removed from the room prior, except for a few necessary items hanging overhead and a few that he had brought on him. He let her vent her frustrations, unable to study the expressions currently on her face, but that would soon be remedied. Right now, it was if he could breathe her anxiety it and as she went for the switch and then gave up in the middle of the room, he knew that it was really beginning to get high on her nerves.

But then he heard that name…..

That name was the very bane of his existence. It should have been her in a room at the asylum and him looking over her as her doctor. He should have been currently wearing a standard, white, lab coat, cut long of course because he was so tall. He would be able to analyze her right now and give his report….Give…His…Report… His hand fisted to his side. Give his report to Dr. Arkham. But here….He was the king of his castle. He was the true ruler of the asylum and this was where he reigned supreme. No, what was before her was far worse than her Jere-bear. It was her worst nightmare. Yet her personality did intrigue him. Even in the darkest of natures she seemed to try and cover her fears with such a bubbly outlook on life, even if the life around her was dead and decayed.

Keeping his calm and channeling his anger for the Doctor that ruined him he leaned in behind her. His hands ghosted over her arms ever so slightly. It was just enough that a presence could be felt but a chill would be left in small bumps behind. His breath came over her shoulder. “There is no redemption from the doctor here….” His voice was barely above a whisper but in these padded walls it was enough to make it sound like it was on a loud speaker. She had met her end….She had met he beginning. The offering to the chance to see the truth…

[Deleted]

“Eek!” She nearly jumped out of her skin when the voice was uttered. She hazards a guess as to where the voice had come from and took a swing in the dark at it. By leaning into the punch, there was quite a force behind the fist, although she had missed Crane’s face by a couple of inches due to being blinded by the dark. A slight breeze had stirred in the air between them, letting Crane know just how close he had come to getting punched. When nothing had connected after her display of aggression, she backed up slowly and thought back if she could recognize the voice. It was being masked by over confidence and held some anger behind it, but for her or for Arkham? She hadn’t done anything wrong to anyone… except for her ex-boyfriend. But he’s dead! So who else could be in the room with her? The voice did not belong to either Arkham or the Joker, plus it referred to Arkham in the third person so it couldn’t be him.

Harley’s blue eyes all angles in the dark as she backed up into one of the padded walls, letting her hands slide along the surface of them as she moved sideways and away from the voice. “You make it sound as if Arkham would actually take time off of his busy schedule to look me in the eye. Well I got news for you boy, the only way he’d as much as sneeze in my direction would be the day I became a patient of his.” Her voice held slight resentment for all the times she tried to look good for her boss and yet the opportunity to have him notice her dedication to her work seemed to have gone unnoticed. And who doesn’t want attention after working so hard for a degree? -But truth be told, it drove Harleen crazy that the owner of the asylum simple ignored her while his real interest rest within the cells where the insane lived. What made them better than her? She could give anyone of those freaks a run for their money when given the chance. After all, she won over the Joker, didn’t she? She gained his respect and love whereas everyone else wouldn’t dare be caught in the same room as him. If anyone should be interviewing her, it should be Arkham. She would be the most entertaining patient the asylum would ever see. All that would have to wait until she figured out who was in the dark with her.

Harley’s eyes continued to search for any hint of movement or gleam of a surface, even though none came. She figured whomever that was in the room could not sneak up on her just as long as she would find the corner and keep her back to it. Her fingers had found the beginning of the joined wall and her confidence had returned. He would have to come close to her this time and she was ready. Use the walls for leverage and kick upward, aiming for the chin to knock her opponent back then take the keys from them. Or better yet, crouch on the ground and wait for him to approach so she can kick his feet out from under him. Yeah, turn the dark against him to gain the advantage. She crouched with both hands on the sides of the walls and held back a laugh.

From all she knew of her opponent, he was taller than she was from having whispered in her ear and was male by the sound of the voice. Had she been thrown into a cell with a patient? If so, why didn’t they attack her while she was unconscious? Was he an ally? Was it …No, it couldn’t be the bat. Joker never mentioned the caped freak using needles to bring anyone down. So who would? The doctors and nurses at Arkham would.

“How about we play twenty questions? I’ll ask the questions and you give me yes or no answers.” Harley’s grin remained as her voice became surprisingly excited. Oh how she loved playing games. “Are you a doctor?” Hopefully that would narrow things down a bit.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane moved away from the swing easily enough. He knew that she was probably going to act out, though it only missed him by a few inches. The girl’s mannerisms had already indicated previously that she had a history of violence or an ability to become violent as she wished. The girl had a lot to fear and this is what captivated him in the darkness so. If she made a wrong move it would be easy enough to take care of her but he didn’t want that. She was too easy to handle to have to dispose of and he was no murderer. She would contend better as a patient.

The mention of Dr. Arkham made him twitch within the dark. That arrogant, conniving, sniveling waste of existence. How dare she compare him, the master of fear to one so much further beneath him. Dr. Arkham would never be what he was and could never be even as hard as he tried. Dr. Crane was simply superior in every way.

Dr. Crane shook of the anger that had begun to build in him from just hearing the very name itself. Instead they were going to play a questions game. He was never one for games, a serious man that intended to do his work. But play often included a big part of his work. Fortunately for her, in the meantime he was willing to humor her. “Yes…” He answered her softly in the dark. It was almost a calming and cooing expression as if she had nothing to fear, but with everything in the atmosphere telling her to run from the lion’s den.

“My turn..” He interrupted the rules of the game with a more sinister tone in his voice. His fingers slowly crawled down the wall where he had been near her and brushed her arm. The doctor stepped to the side quickly so if she was going to react violently he would be out of the way. Quickly the doctor reached into his back pocket and fashioned out his mask. A click poped within the room and the spring of fans could be heard. In the same instant he put on the mask a puff of yellow smoke emitted from it. His glass eyes from the darkness of the hood lit up with their ominous yellow glow and cast just enough light to see the strings from between his fans. “Are…You…Scared?” The distortion bellowed out into the room. The yellow dust was a scare tactic, a dud of fear toxin with a similar gas color.

[Deleted]

There was a long pause between her questions and even she could feel a change in the atmosphere. There was a sudden thick sense of anger mixed with danger emanating from her captive although she didn‘t know why or what had caused it. Was it something she said? Maybe she should entice him in anger to come forward so that she could attack right back? She waited in expecting him to make the first move but his voice was soft and almost thoughtful when it was sounded. Was that a bluff? It wouldn’t be the first time she had come across one of those. She did recognize the voice as the one from earlier. That taunting, almost caring voice that usually let up to a needle being jammed into her neck. Like that’ll happen again. She’ll refuse history to repeat itself when it comes to needles.

She turned her ear toward him when he mentioned having a go at her game, thus peaking her interest. She felt his fingers trickle down her arm and pulled away instantly, then struck the back of her fist hard at the wall. This wasn’t like Riddler. He would have asked her a question by now rather than just flirt and toy with her in the dark. Who was this guy?! He had to be able to see her in the dark in order to touch her, unless he just had a strong sense of awareness.

“Bout time ya turned the fans on. It’s getting’ a little warm in here.” The tone in her voice sounded flirtatious and eager to please, although when she heard the hiss of gas, she had expected a stream of acid to come pouring out on her face. She leaped off to the side and tumbled to the right, then slowly stood up. She narrowed her eyes and raised a hand to block out the light that had suddenly come to life. Now that voice sounded like Clayface, but even that lump of clay’s eyes didn’t glow. Harley shrugged at his question, unfamiliar with the gas idea. “Eh. I‘ve seen the B-movies.” She sprang forward, pushing off of her heels and spun around in the air with her heel outstretched and aimed at the lights.

“You’re not the warden or chief member of security if you’re a doctor, so you could be Sharp? Cavendish? Adams? No, you use needles so that makes you Amadeus!” She lands on the ground and attempts a scissor-kick to the mask. The man was fast, she’ll give him that. For every kick that she had thrust at him so far, he had managed to dodge, forcing her to up her game. She bent over backwards with her left leg raised straight in the air and her right foot on the ground, facing the opposite direction as her back is arched, thus forming a bridge with her body. She followed through by kicking, pushing off with both legs at the same time until her weight shifted onto her hands, reached a handstand position, then stepped down one leg at a time into a lunge and kicked at the stomach of the mask-wearer with her left leg thrust out and both hands in the air. It was an obvious gymnastics move turned into a weapon-style kick. Her toes were facing the ground during this kick, so that she would not break them in case she would come into contact with her cellmate.

Suddenly, an old case file had sprang to mind. Something about a professor experimenting with some sort of toxin and using it on his patients. Wasn’t he committed to Arkham while she was working there? Yeah that’s right! He used a mask to scare his victims. “I know who you are! You’re… you’re….” Oh what did they call him? Why couldn’t she remember his name? She thought back to the time she had picked up his case file, skimmed through it, then placed it aside to sigh out of boredom. She was distracted from the file when she caught sight of the Joker’s and picked that up instead. She had already read it one-hundred times but why not again? That was fine back then, but now she was kicking herself for not actually doing her job and finding out that one bit of information that could have been useful! Ah well. Might as well try a new tactic. Flattery. "Hey is that a mask? Can I try it on and chase you around in the dark? How’d ya get your voice to change? I wanna sound scary!”

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

The effect from the mask seemed to not phase her at all, in fact she actually seemed interested in it. The Scarecrow had moved to the side after she expressed such enthusiasm for his act. But the enthusiasm to try to strike him didn’t stop. She could see him clearly now because of the lights from his eyes and it was still partially difficult to see her, but the reflection in the dark from his own make made her bouncing silhouette visible. Whoever this woman was she was extremely agile, she had been trained in some form of gymnastics or acrobatics at least. But what would the Joker want with her? Why would he send a woman to do the work he’d normally send a mindless thug to do?

While his mind pondered who she was she continued to try and hit him. The kick came to his face and he leapt up and caught the caged rim above. The pull of the tight woven metal against his fingers stung, but he knew that the grating would eventually come in handy. It was mostly for the patients’ protection, too much piping above to filter gas in when he needed it to.

The Scarecrow lifted his legs as she swung by and performed her show for him. She had to be ‘special’ to the Joker or he wouldn’t give her this kind of reach in his department. For as blonde as she was, using the stigma, and as dismissible material as she was she seemed very intelligent. But why wasn’t she-

His thought was cut off. The Scarecrow had become so wrapped in his thinking that he had stopped paying attention to her movements. Pain shot through his body and made him let go of the grate above to crash to the floor. Whatever ridiculous thing had hit him had cut him. On the ground he turned to feel his leg, it was a giant gash. But she had no weapons on her….In that moment it dawned on him. It must have been her heels. The one object he didn’t care to remove. It wasn’t very often that The Scarecrow ran into a woman he wanted to deal with most of his patients were male.

But finally, it seemed she might have recognized him. For as smart as she was with other names she had to have been living under a rock to not have heard of him. He came before the Joker, the Joker was nothing to him but someone that followed his lead and everyone that came after him. But he could have the Batman he obsessed so greatly over. All the Batman ever did for him was get in the way of his research. Though, He couldn’t deny….The thought of picking apart his fears had crossed his mind more than once, a thought that too often got him into trouble with Vigilante and Professional alike.

Fear, It was what he craved, what he expected. That one perfect moment was here where he was going to be able to see it in her trembling features, all for him. His eyes lifted slightly to bask in what was to come from her lips and his arms lifted slightly as he rose from the ground. But….

What was this? All of these questions? These ridiculous questions. The Scarecrow stood there, dumbfounded for a moment as she swept around him and asked such annoyingly prodding questions. “Silence! Silence!” He shouted through the distortion to get her to stop. He was beginning to think he had made a huge mistake. This woman was better fit for a much….much smaller cage.

[Deleted]

She looked at him oddly when he suddenly seemed to rise in height, but that did not stop her from trying a few more tricks. Her heel had caught a part of him, and then she saw him fall. Was there something he stood on? No. She had checked the room earlier. And he looked up before rising quickly. There was something above him that he used in order to escape. Maybe she could use that later when he wasn't looking? Or maybe now? Harley ran forward and used Crane as a boost to feel how high up the ceiling was. She bent her elbows back in case she would hit the ceiling. The fleshy part of the forearm would be better to scrape along the top of the room instead of a wrist or finger, which could break on impact. She had felt the ceiling and grinned, now knowing how high she would have to jump in order to find what felt like grating. If she could pull down hard enough on it, she could escape into the air ducts.

As she landed back on the ground, she could see that the doctor had begun to rise and she did the same, now facing him fully. Harley's lips peeled back into a grin for she knew exactly what she was doing. Men with egos either caved into flattery or grew impatient. With Harley prodding to see which one her captive was, she got her answer once he shouted for silence. Like a yapping dog surrounding an unsuspecting person, she lets Crane know that his presence isn't threatening as long as she's in control. And oh how fun it was to nip at his heels and jump back as if playing a more dangerous game of tag. Hearing his temper come out was another indicator that she held all the cards in her hand.

"What's the matter? Don'tcha like your new play mate?" She twirled around him with her arms spread out as if she was actually enjoying Crane's company. And who's to say that she wasn't? He wanted silence. She wanted more interaction. She let her voice ring out as a song sprang to mind which seemed to fit this perfect moment.

"How long will I exist in this place?
I feel like there were people who once said that.
If you're only going to say annoying things,
Let the jet black wings carry you away and just disappear. Caw! Caw!"

She mimicked the sound of a crow near the end of the song and paused right in front of him. Unaware that he feared the black birds at one point in his life. Her eyes were certain she knew of the man standing in front of her from what she had last remembered from reading Arkham's file on him. What a treat to be able to meet one of Arkham's past doctors and patient. "Hello Dr. Crane." Her smile and tone were both confident. She bowed before him and looked up without straightening. "Harleen Quinzel, former clinical psychoanalyst at Arkham Asylum. Now I'm the Joker's favorite hench-wench. Pleased to meetcha."