Author's Note: Things have been insane lately, And there honestly wasn't a day where I didn't think about posting on this, and I'm so sorry it took so long for this part! This took me about 2 hours to write, and then 3 months to edit and tweak sadly. Hopefully you enjoy! Please forgive me for my terrible author-ship.
Also, I promise that the next chapter will be up in a timely manner, and will be much more exciting than this one. This is some of a filler before the real good stuff, which is why it took me so long to do.
Disclaimer: Sadly I do not own Harley, or Eddie-kins, or anything else you may recognize. I don't make any money off this, and this is all for fun!
Porcelain Doll Part III
Arkham Asylum kept rogues like the Joker kept henchmen; usually not for more than a month or two. But for an inexperienced inmate like Harley to make an escape, on her first try, no less; it was simply unbelievable! It was a riddle in its own.
My fellow rogues were also quite fascinated with the former doctor's successful escape; as much of the lunchtime gossip was fixated on the blonde bombshell.
"But where would she go?' Jonathan mused, moving his Asylum excuse for food around his plate carelessly. "It's not like she would be free to roam the streets now that she's considered to be one of the criminally insane…"
"Curiouser and curiouser!" Jervis piped up, somewhat exuberantly, his deep adoration for Asylum gossip ever apparent.
"She probably left town by now." Harvey's low growl caused the rest of the table to go silent. "The kid snapped… and she probably snapped back; needed a new start…" He shoveled a bit of the colorless matter into his mouth.
I couldn't help but shake my head at these words. "No offense Harvey, but you didn't even have a conversation with the girl. She seemed truly deranged…" Those glossy blue eyes; high pitched cackle… I shivered. It didn't appear to me that she had just "snapped."
"Alright…" As usual, Harvey rolled his eyes in my general direction. "When it comes to women Ed-"
A sultry laugh came from the other end of the table; a laugh that could only be produced by the green-skinned seductress herself. "Harvey, I don't think you'd know any better on womanly matters than Eddie would…" Pamela Isley pushed her plate away and stood up, approaching our end of the table. She placed one delicate green tinted hand on Harvey's shoulder.
"Boys, she left here to go look for The Joker. So either she's still out there looking for him, or she's found him. And if she's found him… it's impossible to think she's still alive." Her last few words were practically dripping with venom (the metaphorical soft of course, but when it comes to Pamela, I feel obligated to specify). And with that, she whipped around and stormed off. The table fell silent at the utter blatancy of Pamela's remark. Most of us had been thinking something similar, but no one had wanted to say it.
Jervis looked down sadly, "Sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast…" I shook my head at his sad optimism, and continued to pick at my lunch.
After several weeks, talk of the former doctor Harleen Quinzel and her surprising escape began to die down. However, pathetic as it was, the blonde doctor was never too far from my thoughts. I found myself paying careful attention to Gotham Nightly News and skimming the daily paper that was allowed in the rec-room for any signs of her, but with no success.
But one thing that Edward Nigma most certainly was (and still is) is stubborn, so I continued my media search for Miss Quinzel. One particular day, I sat down just in time for the gossip portion of the nightly news and found myself surrounded by my fellow rogues. You see, the gossip portion of the nightly news contains a very… intriguing segment about the inmates at Arkham, their whereabouts, and what they're currently up to. It's very rarely accurate, but almost always serves as a good laugh (for most of us anyway, Killer Croc is still a tab bit sore about the allegations that his skin condition that gave him his namesake is nothing but a back case of eczema, so he usually spends this time moping in the corner.)
"And now I'm going to hand it over to our Gossip Reporter Maria Valdez for the latest happening of our infamous Gothamites." Valerie Reilly smiled a toothy smile, almost reminiscent of a certain Clown Prince of Crime...
Before I could shake the thought, the scene changed to a busty, fair-skinned brunette, who may be able to attribute her television success to her… erm… assets more than actual reporting skill. But regardless, she began her segment with the goings-on of Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, Prince of Gotham, who is seen with this international supermodel, and that Russian ballerina…
"This leads me to our most popular gossip segment, here at Gotham Evening News, Asylum Insider!" Valerie Reilly smiled, ruffled her papers and took a deep breath. "It has been reported that Jervis Tetch, also known as the Mad Hatter, has recently gotten a hold of the first of the Harry Potter series. It has been speculated that Tetch will soon be changing his M.O. to that of Lord Voldermort." (Jervis giggled from behind the couch, "Oh dear!") "More interestingly though is the recent sightings of a new henchgirl in Gotham seen in the company of none other than the Joker himself!"
I'm assuming my jaw dropped at this point, as this was the reaction of every other person in the room, guards included. The screen changed from the background to a still shot, most likely taken off a security camera, of Harleen Quinzel in a full body, skin-tigbt Jester costume, complete with a face full of pasty white makeup and a black domino mask.
A part of me was in sheer disbelief that this could possibly be the former doctor. I mean, there are always young women who find themselves in a bit of a tight spot and wind up getting dragged the life of a henchgirl; it happens all the time. But another photo, a close up this time proved me wrong. Behind the makeup were the same crystal blue eyes that had fixed themselves on mine that day in the rec-room.
"The Red Queen!" Jervis exclaimed, his voice full of mild adoration.
Pamela was quiet for a chance. Green eyes fixed on the screen, one eyebrow cocked disapprovingly. She retreated back to an overstuffed arms chair perched beneath the Arkham excuse for a window, determined to soak up the last few rays of sun before nightfall.
A part of me wanted to know why she was so angered by Miss Quinzel's transformation of sorts, but I suppressed the urge to ask, as Pamela is known for her temper, I do so enjoy having the ability to breathe. "Disgusting…" She whispered just barely audible. I returned my eyes to the screen, back to the photo of Harley on the scream, her jester costume fitting perfectly, clinging to her every curve. Disgusting indeed, I scoffed to myself.