This Mad World

Tricksters

This was without a doubt the most insane thing Harleen had ever been to in her life. And probably ever would be, too. Of course she was no stranger to charity events. Heck, a long time ago (okay last year, but that was still a pretty good stretch of time by human lifespan) she would have hated to be invited to such a thing. She liked her work far more than she liked socializing and talking about it, but she knew the necessary evil that was being on the good side of the public eye and occasionally beg them for money via means of throwing a fancy party and bribing with food and drink to hope they donated. In her opinion this money didn't need to be asked for, since it was obvious to anyone that helping a bunch of sick people tormented by their own minds was an amazing cause that needed no convincing to marshal behind.

Well, should have been, she guessed.

But this one was...different. And even as much as she might have liked in principle to not go, she couldn't find herself really putting any heart behind her idea of refusal. And one didn't just say no to a personal invitation from Bruce Wayne to attend the event that he was so kindly throwing for them and dumping his millions of cash into. God, how much money did he have anyway? He could probably buy his own island (right, like he didn't already have one, that was a good joke, Harleen) and float it atop of his money.

So it was more than a little surprising when an envelope had been addressed to her in her mail, written in a hand she had never seen before that was impeccably beautiful. She hadn't even known at first it was addressed to her, mostly because she had been oogling the beautiful paper and golden filigree decorations covering the edges before she tried to read the name, and also because she had trouble reading it at first. Harleen had never been the best at cursive, her attempts being passable in school, but this calligraphy was so incredible and gorgeous that it didn't matter that she could barely read it, it was fantastic.

Until she opened the envelope and read what was inside, though. A card much like what was on the outside of the envelope, personally inviting her to the Arkham charity event being help by Bruce Wayne for raising awareness of the mentally ill, but also to raise more security and compensation and care for the victims of attacks from the prisoners and former prisoners of Arkham Asylum.

Which at least answered the question of why her in particular. Wayne had probably heard about Joker's attack and Batman's rescue of her, and reached out to her.

And even as she had been contemplating whether or not to go, standing around in her kitchen, that sudden tidbit of information came slamming to the forefront of her brain like the force of a freight train. Thank the hippocampus for storing that memory away to be useful later!

Bruce Wayne knew Batman.

The revelation and memory had her standing stupefied for a good ten seconds as her mind remembered and connected all the dots. She remembered scraps of news reels half-paid attention to while she had been busy doing something else. Magazine articles with bold headlines that were impossible to ignore. Gossip from coworkers and friends. Bruce Wayne publically funded Batman. The one and only connected the Caped Crusader had to any single resident in Gotham. They had met, they had talked, and they even made some sort of plans together.

Harleen briefly wondered about that, as she could hardly imagine Wayne staying sober enough for any sort of hard and official planning to even sink in. But perhaps he just had a good heart and liked to see justice being done and having a way to help in even if that was in a small way. It would make sense, after all, given what happened to his parents.

At that Harleen sighed and shook her head. Poor, poor Bruce. She couldn't possibly imagine any worse thing happening to a child, especially right in front of his face. His parents ripped away by a criminal, having been witness to it all...it was hardly any wonder why Wayne turned out the way he did, ruining his life and health by drinking and partying and having wild sex every single night. How he hadn't actually pissed away his whole enormous fortune was really anyone's guess. She knew that was what a lack of parenting did, though she knew his...butler, she guessed? He was the guardian after both parents had died. He should have been that parenting role for Wayne, but she didn't need to be told that a servant who was obligated to follow orders becoming a guardian was a terrible idea. It was his duty to serve his employer, so naturally no one had put a foot down to rein in Wayne's worst impulses.