Harlequin

Flashback.

There she was, on her way back to her apartment room. Harley. Full name Harleen Quinzel. Bleached blonde, about 5,4". Attractive young woman, but studious. Psychology major at Gotham University, also on a gymnastics scholarship.

The apartment was close to the university, which is why she chose it. The apartment was rather quiet, since most of the tennants are students, and most were out at a part time job by this time, or studying. Her long-term boyfriend, James, had just moved in with her recently. She took her keys and unlocked the door with expectations of finding him on the couch playing video games as he usually did, and to be greeted with a kiss, perhaps talk about their day, have lunch together.

No. That wasn't what she got. Upon opening the door the place was a wreck and James was barely breathing on the floor. His fingers were clawing and digging the floor. When she looked beside him, there was her professor. Mr Jonathan Crane. He was taking notes and he wasn't helping James.

"JAMES!!!!! Oh God. James!! Mr. Crane! Wh-why are you not helping him... What's going on?!"

"Ms. Quinzel... My, this was unexpected. Your James here told me you were gonna be late with some extra assignments." He stopped his note-taking and looked at Harley. He fixed his square glasses up with a finger. "How embarrassing. Miscalculations. I guess I couldn't wait to try it out." He smirked a little.

"Try what out? Mr. Crane, James needs help!!!" Harley reached for the phone but Crane pinned her on the ground. James had stopped moving and was only breathing faintly.

"You're not calling anyone. Don't even think about it. He's practically dead. I didn't come up with an antidote. Yet. Ah, but I did not come with enough toxin either. I would kill you too, I suppose. But that's impractical. I could always use you. But now he's dead. So I guess you'd have to take the blame huh, Harls?" said Crane to her ears. His warm breath brushed the skin on the nape of her neck.

Harley was in shock and she could only feel pain. Pain in her heart for the loss of a loved one. The burn of her tears trickling down the sides of her eyes. A chill down her spine from the coldness of Crane's words, and the tight grip of his slender-fingered hands on her wrist. After that, nothing.