Just Like You - Part III [Harley Quinn x Joker]
Where the rest of the world sees a deranged psychopath, Harleen Quinzel
sees a man. A man capable of loving her, in his own twisted way.
This is her transformation into Harley Quinn, starting at Arkham Asylum. Part I - Part II
Anything you want I’ll give it
Lips, lips I kiss
Bite me while I taste your fingertips
Day drunk into the night
Wanna keep you here
Harleen stood by the coffee machine when the lights suddenly flickered, then they went out. Through the darkness she heard the other persons in the staff room abruptly stand up, the scraping of chairs against the tiled floor. Her heart beat faster as an icy chill rushed down her spine. She remained completely still, waiting, listening.
Was it already time?
The other doctors and nurses mumbled worriedly to each other, while she remained standing with full attention. The sound of heavy steps came closer, and when the emergency light switched on a minute later she saw an orderly stand in the door, breathing harshly and motioning at her.
“Quinzel, you must come at once.”
She saw more guards running past in the corridor outside, with their weapons ready. “What’s going on?”
The man’s eyes moved quickly around the room. “It’s about patient 2671. Something’s happened - ”
She was already halfway out the door when Dr. Valdez spoke up. “It’s my patient, so I’m going. If you don’t mind, Dr. Quinzel…”
Harleen turned her head around only to give her the hardest, cutting glare she could manage, staring her down. The violent impulse was back, but she had more important things to focus on at the moment. The other woman remained unfazed, coming closer.
Harleen simply pushed past the orderly and hurried down the corridor, her body moving in the direction of his cell on its own accord, as she heard the guard accompany her. She had already passed two corridors and one staircase, too impatient to wait for the elevator, when he stopped her.
“There’s something you must see, Doctor,” he said and gestured her for her to go into the other direction, that lead away from the maximum security floor and down to the lower floors.
Her jaw was locked tight, the tension spread through her and fueled the impatience. “What?” she snapped. “I’ve got to see my patient at once.”
“He is under control,” the guard replied – his words intended to calm down having the opposite effect on her. She needed to get to the Joker now, what happened?
“Follow me,” the man said apprehensively and she forced herself to follow, away from the cell again.
He lead her quietly down to the lowest floor above the parking garage, where the staff locker rooms were – a place mostly used by the guards and nurses. Her heart beat in rhythm with her rushed steps and she vaguely noticed the increased presence of staff.
They stopped in front of the large male staff restroom, close to the locker rooms. The guard stopped her at the door that was guarded by two orderlies, giving her full view of the restroom.
“The police is on its way, don’t touch anything,” one of the guards commanded sternly. She looked down and noticed her heels inches away from thick blood stains. She looked up again.
The room was colored crimson – the tiled floor and the stalls were splattered as if someone had taken a huge paintbrush and flicked it. In one corner, by the dripping sink, there was a big lump of something fleshy and red. The body had been mutilated beyond recognition. The white tiled walls were only partially stained, leaving room for a large, neatly scribbled message across the entire far wall of the room.
The orderly who escorted her winced as he once again looked at the scene. In large, bold red letters it was written, accompanied by a big, wide smiley face.
Bring Quinzel back.