Harley

Introduction

   It was another night alone while eating dinner. Candles were lit, and and the sun was down. I played with the spaghetti on my plate until it got cold. I wish that my life was more interesting, as no client here in Gotham so far has interested me. I was hoping that tomorrow I am able to enter in a new pshyc ward- one that not one psychiatrist has entered after 1954. I worked at a very small part of the asylum, one where people weren't criminally insane, or even at the least schizophrenic. It's seems like those stupid professors think that my skills are some sort of joke. I got up to pour myself a glass of wine after ripping off my glasses to rub my temples. My wine was chugged down, only for me to pour another glass. Maybe if I change myself to look a bit more professional. I could dye my hair to sandy blonde, maybe my approach would be more appealing. My physique should be more professional, maybe with contacts or smaller glasses. 

*Knock, knock, knock*

  Who could be here at this time? Whoever it is should be eating dinner with their families- or even putting their children to bed. I walked over to the door, and hesitantly folded my hand around the knob. Another knock came, this time louder, and I opened it. A man appeared in the doorway, displaying a middle aged man in a long trench coat standing in front of the pouring rain. "Detective Gordon. Are you Dr. Quinzel?" I nodded. "I am sorry to come by at this hour. I must be interrupting your dinner, but I have come with some important inquiries. Should I come back at a later date?" He has noted my confusion politely. "Oh, no sir. That won't be necessary. Come in, please. I will take your coat," I offered. Detective Gordon untied his coat and stepped in the doorway. "Thank you very much, Doctor." I nodded again just slightly. "I don't mean to seem rude, but- can I ask why you are here exactly?" Gordon shut the door behind him as he stepped in. "It is no problem, Doctor. I just had a few questions."

  "Uh, am I- Am I a suspect of something?" Gordon chuckled, taking his notepad from his pocket.

"No, no you aren't  It is just, ah- This is a small town. I am told you want to work in the older, more known psych. I just needed to interview you a bit about that, seeing if you knew about the uh, warning signs. People have been talking about you, Ms. Quinzel." 

  "Me? Wh-Why? I just want to explore the realms of my profession. I want something fresh, and new. I'm tired of the typical patient."

He wrote down what I said, seeming to just jot down a summary of the context.

"Have you heard the stories? You haven't been here long, I know. But, they are always talked about on the streets. You don't have any close friends?"

I was questioning everything going on right now. Why is he here, and how did he find my apartment?

"No, I don't I'm afraid. And what stories?" Gordon looked down, and put away his notepad and pencil before looking back up dramatically.

It seems a bit out of place for him to be here. I don't understand how a doctor wanting to explore deeper into her profession is so concerning to a detective. . . even complete strangers.

"Dr. Quinzel, you are dealing with some very dangerous criminals here. The Joker, especially. But I do suppose if you would like I can recommend you to the warden. What he decides will be your final answer. I want to warn you of one specific mad man, though- The Joker. Stay away from him at all costs.," he warned.

I nodded, wanting to object.

"I think we are done here, Miss. Quinzel. I will refer you as soon as I get the chance. Goodnight, Doctor. I will show myself out." 

  Detective Gordon warning me about these extreme personalities made me feel cautious, but the curiosity inside of me was stronger than my body's forewarning- and apparently stronger than Gordon's, too. Who in the hell is The Joker? 

  I walked back over to the hickory dining table to clean it off, piling more dishes on top of the mountain of plates and glassware. I decided to research The Joker, because I have apparently been living under a rock. Boston sure does keep out a lot of news for such a famous place. Maybe it was just a local thing. The articles and press reviews scared me. The more I looked, the more I wanted to write down many questions I have for him, but I didn't want to make him feel overwhelmed. After all, when dealing with personalities as supposedly as extreme as his, you have to be sure to have a calm approach to everything that he hits you with.