The moon was unusually pretty tonight.

Her red coat blowing wildly in the breeze, she perched atop the roof of the hideout, staring into the depths of the night.

Two days.

Two days since she had broken her Mr. J out of Arkham Asylum. Two days after finally succeeding to move Mr. J and her group of henchmen into a new location away from the GCPD. Two days since she left the shadow of Dr. Harleen Quinzel behind.

Harleen Quinzel was no longer part of who she was. She had been a mask, an identity that she no longer desired to possess. She didn't care that she was now a wanted criminal…didn't care that everyone in Gotham was on the lookout for her in order to imprison her in the very asylum she had worked at. She was Harley Quinn—loyal follower of the Joker, his little harlequin, his main squeeze. That was her new identity.

Tilting her head slightly, she could hear the henchmen arguing in the hideout below—Cutter in his usual wise, mature fashion, Poke chuckling like a maniac, and the cousins (Rocco and Henshaw) talking over them in unison.

Poor Mr. J was still greatly injured from his last confrontation with the Batman. His right arm was broken and so was his left leg. For two days, she had tended to his every need, trying her best to make him comfortable. He would sleep the day away, mumbling under his breath in pained, delirious slumber. She suspected that he would be like this for a few more weeks—at least long enough before the bones began to heal.

It made her blood boil when she thought about the fiend who had done this to him.

Batman…

The Batman, the enemy of her Mr. J, Gotham's dear dark knight. How she hated him! She remembered the sight of Mr. J being dragged to the Arkham Asylum medical wing, bruised and bleeding from his encounter with the detestable flying rodent. She had felt her mind snap, had felt the full presence of Harley Quinn right then and there. In a way, perhaps she should be thanking the Batman for finally giving her the push she needed to finally become free. But then again…now her beloved Puddin' was sick and hurt and confined to the bed and wouldn't be getting up in the near future.

And it was for that reason that she decided that it was time to end it all. The Bat would not do this to her Joker ever again. She'd kill him for what he did. She'd see to it that Mr. J would no longer have to worry about the dreadful Bat ever again.

But what to do? Plan?

Her Mr. J had always been against making plans, but she supposed that killing the Batman called for it. Just how would she do it then?

She had to encounter him first, of course. She had not yet gotten a chance to have her first fight with the caped crusader. So she'd try him out-find out what made him tick, try to discover any weak points he might possess. After all, had she not been a shrink?

Giggling softly in the darkness, she tilted back her head and grinned up at the black night sky.

She needed some time. She needed to show Gotham who she really was before she started anything. The people of Gotham needed to hear Mr. J's messages despite his absence. And she was the perfect person to spread them. She'd be his mouthpiece to the people, an agent for the agent-of-chaos. She'd make them all see the folly of their mundane, rule-ridden lives and then she'd deprive them of their Batman.

Just wait a few more days. Then get things started. Oh, Puddin', you'll be so proud!

She knew he would be. With the Batman disposed of, they could finally rule all of Gotham together. United, they would make all of Gotham finally realize the joke of life and take down anyone who tried to stop them.

For the time being, she'd be patient. She'd plan and ready the henchmen for when they'd make their first attack on the city. Until then, she'd look after Mr. J and try to get his wounds and broken bones healed faster.

The harlequin took out a card from the pocket of her coat, holding it up and staring at it under the silver glow of the moon. A joker card. There were always two in every deck.

You'll see, Mr. J…we shall win this war! The Batman shall die!

And the night seemed to grow blacker.