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Story Notes:
This is my version of Harley Quinn's creation. I know there are countless interpretations of this, but if I've added my own twists to the story. Very occasionally, I will write a chapter from the Joker's point of view, but otherwise it's all Harley. This is my favorite storyline to write about; I hope you enjoy!

The characters and basic plot are not mine. I'm not making any money out of this, so if you're looking for a chance to sue me, look elsewhere.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This is basically a look at Harleen Quinzel from the point of view of an outsider. Enjoy!
Cars didn't often stop at the gate of Arkham Asylum.

But that's precisely what the small blue Subaru did as it hurtled round the turn approaching the asylum. The little car waited as the window rolled down and a small, pale, delicate hand emerged, inserting a card into a slot in the wall and retrieving it again. The gate groaned open, and the Subaru began the long, winding path up the steep gravel toward the fortress-like building atop the hill.

A makeshift staff parking lot sat the end of the road. It was this that the blue Subaru pulled into at the end of its journey. The engine fell silent, a door opened, and a slender, toned leg appeared, followed by another one. They were clad in stockings, a pair of smart black heels, and a tight black pencil skirt. Next, a head and torso emerged and the driver of the Subaru began to walk up a smaller gravel path leading to a large front door of the asylum. She was sporting a white blouse that perhaps should have been buttoned up a bit more. Her blond hair was tied in a tight bun that stretched the soft skin on her round face. Her eyes were obscured by a momentary glare from the sun overhead on her professional-looking glasses.

Her heels made small crunches on the gravel. When she reached the door, she conjured the card again from a small black handbag and repeated the process she had undergone at the gate. The door slid open soundlessly, but for a moment, before she stepped in and it closed behind her with the tiniest of clicks, the world caught a snatch of Arkham's continuous refrain--a screaming and wailing of those trapped inside.

The woman stopped, apparently unsure of what to do. Before she could come to a decision, however, there came a brisk clicking of shoes down the hall. Relief swept across her face, but she composed herself just before another woman rounded the corner and reached her, holding out her hand to introduce herself.

"Dr. Joan Leland," she intoned. "You must be--"

"Dr. Harleen Quinzel," chirped the other. "But you can call me Harley; everyone does."

Dr. Leland gave a tight little smile and walked away, clearly expecting Dr. Quinzel to follow her. The latter hurried to catch up as the senior doctor led her through corridors lined with glass windows, looking in on the inmates. Dr. Quinzel cast nervous glances at them. Some launched themselves at the windows when she walked by; some simply stared at her with wide eyes, while others took no notice. Dr. Leland was talking, introducing her to the asylum, but but she didn't appear to be listening. She had stopped dead in front of one of the windows, gazing in.

Inside the cell sat Gotham's most feared criminal. As Dr. Quinzel gazed in, his left eye shut in a wink, his mouth curved up in a smirk. Dr. Quinzel's mouth fell slightly open, then she blushed furiously, the colour rising in her cheeks. Dr. Leland turned around and, seeing who she was looking at, said matter-of-factly, "They eat novices like you for breakfast."

Obviously terrified by her words, Dr. Quinzel scurried away, giving the Joker one last glance. His smile widened.
Chapter End Notes:
There you have it. I would like to note that despite some of the language in this chapter, I don't mean to present Harley as a nervous, jumpy character, nor a weak one, but it was her first day in an asylum. You would be nervous too. However, in later chapters I'll elaborate more on her determined, cunning side.

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