You were early in your career, a rookie in your ‘profession’, and you had caught news that a certain clown had gotten himself a damsel, a once successful psychiatrist, now a vilified accomplice in crime to the jester of Gotham. Donned in her latex red and black getup, and her mallet she stole from an amusement park, she sat pretty on the metaphorical criminal thrown over Gotham

The night had strained thin, thinner than your patience, as you had followed leads and connections to the joker’s whereabouts - all the way to the top of Wayne Enterprise Tower, where instead of finding the Clown Prince of Crime, stands a shaken and confused Harley. Her eyes wide and frantic, and the usual smile on her perfect black lips replaced with a quivering look of fear

“Hehe… uhm..”