Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters in this story so far.

This is my first effort for fanfiction, so i'd really appreciate any feedback.

Read and Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - The Introduction.

A dark, cold and crisp night in October.

On the outskirts of Gotham City, a high security psychiatric hospital; Arkham Asylum.

A window on the fourth floor, shielded by wrought iron bars and reinforced glass.

A man looks out into the night, a hand wrapped around one of the bars, his head leaning against the window frame.

His appearance is unnerving, even for an inmate of Arkham, renowned for the imprisonment of the cities most dangerous and deranged criminals. His hair, wavy and unkempt, looked as though it was once a mousy colour. Now, immersed unevenly by acid green dye. His face, chalk white. His eyes, if closed, would look like deep black holes, but open, the sclera's are whiter than the full moon in the sky.

And his mouth… painted blood red. His lips are extended with the paint, right up to his cheeks, bestowing a sadistic and psychotic smile.

But the most shocking thing about his face is what the red make up covers and, at the same time, accentuates: The scars.

From the corners of his mouth outwards, is an augmented smile. His lips carved and mutilated, then stitched back together roughly leaving the end result somewhat jagged.

As unique and striking as this man looked, his identity was a mystery. He was known only as The Joker.

When he was escorted to Arkham by a team of Gotham's police officers and committed, they had nothing else.

No name, no other alias.

His clothing was custom, with nothing in his pockets but knives and lint.

It was almost as if he had just dropped out of the sky and inflicted chaos onto the streets of Gotham city; like an asteroid.

That was almost three months ago, and has anonymity was as present today as it had been on the night of his capture on 30th July. He was Gotham's most inexplicable and frightening mystery; a question mark, a problem. But at least with him contained at the Asylum, the hostile shadow he had instigated on the streets of the city, like a spectre on a crime spree, had been revoked.

And now here he was, in his ward. Confined in a cell, looking out onto the metropolis he'd had so many more plans to punish. He'd vividly imagined the pandemonium, enticing The Batman further into a vituperative duel.

And now, his plans had to be put on hold. Temporarily.

But a victim he certainly was not. Nor was he a schemer. He believed himself to be an agent of chaos. And he had an abundance of tricks up his sleeve.

For now, he had a new focus. And here she comes now…

In the hallway outside his cell, The Joker could hear the unmistakeable footsteps of Doctor Harleen Quinzel. The heels of her shoes tap-tapped on the polished floor, getting closer and closer.

Her steps sounded swift and jittery; he had noticed that the first time he had heard them, six weeks after his incarceration. Doctor Quinzel had arrived at Arkham as an intern, shy and nervous but eager to prove herself all the same. Which is why she had volunteered to analyse The Joker on her first day. She had pretty much been laughed out of her bosses office, but persisted until she was finally granted permission for a trial session 5 weeks later.

The Joker had been handcuffed and led into a private room, where Harleen had been waiting for him. The two guards who had escorted him in stood against the wall on either side of him; 'just in case'.

Harleen and The Joker sat in chairs opposite one another, a table was the only thing that had separated the two of them. Harleen had only ever seen him through the window in the door to his cell before.

The Joker recalled that day further as he watched Doctor Quinzel scuttle past his ward…

His face wasn't covered by his usual mask, the notorious paint with which he was associated. Upon arriving at Arkham, he had been restrained and washed down with a hose. All that was left of his 'clown' costume was the dye in his hair and the hysterical laughter; symbols that he was no circus act. This guy was for real.

"Any chance of getting these cuffs taken off?" he'd asked Harleen, lifting his arms up to his mangled face and beaming at her.

"No." she answered, flicking through his file. He lowered his arms, and the metal of the cuffs clattered on the wooden table.

"Is that my file?" he questioned, nodding towards the folder.

"Yes." she replied, still not shifting her gaze.

The Joker paused for a moment. "…Can I see it?"


"Do you know any other words?" he persisted, with a comedic edge to his voice.

"Yes!" agitated, she raised her voice and finally looked up at him, slamming his file shut. "Can we just get started?"

He smirked. "Yes."

Harleen cleared her throat. "Right. My name is Doctor Harleen Quinzel, and -"

"Wait, wait, wait," he interrupted. "What?!"

She narrowed her eyes slightly, a little taken aback, "Excuse me?"

"Your name is Har-leen Quin-zel?!" He mocked. "Wow, your parents didn't give you a chance in hell!" He burst into a cackle and slammed his hand down onto the table. "It sounds as if they're into jokes."

"We aren't here to discuss my parents or my name. We're here to talk about you."

"Well whaddaya wanna know, hmm? What makes me tick?" He leaned forward in his seat, smiling from the left corner of his mouth and staring at Harleen.

She had stared back at him, almost captivated by his eyes. They looked cold and ominous. The Joker could tell he frightened and fascinated her at the same time. Harleen cleared her throat again and needlessly fiddled with her glasses before opening his file once again. He Joker leaned over a bit further, causing one of the guards to shuffle slightly.

"They could have used a better photo, that one's not very flattering," he joked, before leaning back into the chair.

Their first session had not been about The Joker at all, it had been about Harleen. He had wanted to try and suss her out, see if was worth playing games with. From the first time he had heard her footsteps in the corridor, he knew she was: A timid and hesitant girl working with human time bombs. She was completely out of her depth.

No, it wouldn't be too difficult to break her.