Adult-FanFiction.org : Comics

Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel	By : Risen86 Category: DC Verse Comics > Suicide Squad Views: 6735 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Suicide Squad, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 4
- 5
- 6
I can see the doctor standing there quivering by the door; you see the doctor doesn’t like to come in here. You think maybe I’m talking about my favorite little blond Dr. with the denial problem (yes I’ve noticed that), you would be mistaken I’m not talking about my pumpkin. I’m talking about the other, less compelling doctor. Doctor, what is it, Schumer? Yes, him. He’s a little skittish granted, but he’s also rather helpful. You see I asked him to pass over my file, and did he? Yes, yes he did. He was even kind enough to include my little note. I asked him to get me a dentist (that poor toothless bastard) and he did didn’t he? I want something else now…
I want. I want. I want.
I think we can all agree that the world is full of wants and needs that people don’t act on, they trap themselves in insipid moral codes based on the uninspired dichotomy of acceptable versus unacceptable, right versus wrong, good versus evil, love versus hate…Batman versus Joker. Really all these are but arbitrary rules that people, denying the truth, place on themselves to drown out the reality of life. As there is no god (which my existence can attest to); then Life in all its wonder, all its beauty, all its horror and all its mysteries is the greatest of cosmic oopsies. It holds no meaning and if there is no meaning then what we do or what we feel in the here and now simply does not matter. If I love you I might as well hate you, if I need you I might as well kill you, if I laugh I might as well cry (or just keep on laughing, whichever comes first).
Unfortunately, the majority of the human race are brainless automatons, marching around subjecting themselves to the morality of a world trying to forge reason from insignificance. Then, there are the few, those who are ahead of the curve, those who see the world for what it is (a fucking joke), and deal with it differently. Some of us run around in black spandex (Yes, I’m looking at you Batsy) trying to will righteousness into a world void of it, some accept the meaninglessness and revel in the freedom of chaos (yours truly obviously)… others like, I suspect, my dear sweet Doctor Harleen Quinzel (HarleeeenQuinzel, HarleeeQuin, Harlequin? Hahahaha) have tasted futility; it has left them oscillating on the brink between chaos and captivity. Some little nagging feeling tells me, with my little Harlequin, I need not push to watch gravity pull her to madness I just need to open my arms, stand back and watch her fall.
“I want a file on Dr. Quinzel” I’m lying on the floor, the tiles radiating cold into my bare back. I’ve not bothered to look at the doctor since he walked in. I know he hasn’t moved from the closed door.
“Yes, Mister Joker.”
“I want her whole history, I want nothing left out… make sure you tell JonnieJonnie.”
“Mr. Frost is frightening my wife and children I beg you I’ll do whatever you want just leave them alone.”
“Yes, yes run along.” He turns quickly to leave “Oh, just one more thing.”
“Yes Mr. Joker?”
“When you see Dr. Quinzel, you had best let her know how much you want her. She had best be uncomfortable when you’re done. ”
“What? Why?!”
“Why?” I laugh hysterically as I push myself off the floor and make my way to him “You never grow out of it do you? You run around as children asking your parents why this, why that. Why why why. You grow up and you do the same thing only instead of asking about the birds and the bees you run to your churches and ask an absent Father why you are here.” When I reach him I put my hands around his head and lean in, caging him against the wall, the thick putrid stench of his sweat overwhelms me. “I’ll be your Father Dr. Schumer, I’ll tell you why: because it fucking pleases me!”
I’ve been staring at myself for the past two hours wondering if I’ve totally lost my mind. I’m stuck in a cycle of yes then no, on then off, I walk to the door then I sit down again. What should I do? I know the answer to that, it’s pretty obvious, I need to put my sorry ass back in bed and go to sleep. Yes I should, but I know that’s not going to work because I haven’t been able to sleep for the past three days. Normally I’ll go to the dojo or head to the gymnastics class I teach and I’m so exhausted when I get home that I’m asleep before my head hits the pillow. Not the case recently, I lie down, close my eyes and try to will the sleep to come but all I see is that damn joker card spinning around like a top in my head. I end up dragging myself out of bed pouring a cup of coffee and spending my evening doing research on the joker.
One of the first things I looked up was The Circus, which is in fact not a circus; it’s an exclusive, invite only nightclub. The only nightclub in Gotham that the most affluent bump shoulders regardless of if they come from old money, new money or blood money. It is notoriously violent, if 5 people die there in a year that would be a good year; yet it’s alarmingly popular. The icing on the cake is that The Circus is rumored to be owned by Gotham’s one and only pale skinned, green haired jester. The curiosity is mind numbing, I am dying to go… because if I do go then he’ll cooperate and that’s really all I want. I had decided not to go though, even before I had that little tidbit of information.
My resolution wavered the following Friday during my trip to the Center Mall when I saw it sitting in the window, it was black & red and pretty and I knew I had to have it. It was perfect. I had no control of my feet when they moved me into the store, or my hands when they purchased the harlequin costume. It reminded me of my brother and that was the only reason I got it; but I also now had an outfit to wear to The Circus. He did say I’d need a disguise.
So, Saturday evening, I’m standing here in my new outfit staring at my front door. If I’m honest with myself, to go or not to go isn’t really the question anymore. How the fuck do I stop myself from going; that is the real question.
It is a rather loud building with flashing lights and a mass of people standing in a line right down the sidewalk and around the corner. These are the people who will not get in, the ones without an invitation. I jostle past them, feeling rather at home amongst the masquerading throng, I make my way towards the two very large men barring the entrance of the club.
“Hey! Hey! I yell reaching into the side of my bra, where I’d stuffed the Joker card. They ignore me; I am just one in the mass. Jumping up I wave the card in front of them “Hey! H-“
One of them grabs my arm, which he uses to yank me forward. The action is unexpected and I trip awkwardly as he maneuvers me out of the crowd; He leaves me there and disappears, card in hand, into the club.
When he reappears he has a very well dressed, good-looking man in tow.
“Where did you get this?” he asks curtly
“Mr. Joker told me to give that to Frost.”
“You got this from Mr. J?” he’s watching me, expressionless, his posture perfect.
“Um… yea?” He gives me a very thorough once over then enters the club. I think that’s it but he keeps the door open for me.
“You coming?” he asks when I don’t move.
“Do I have a choice?”
“If you didn’t I wouldn’t have asked. Are you coming?”
This is it Harleen. This is all you have to do. Turn around and go back now. Go home. You don’t belong here.
In my bones I know he would want me to go in, that’s why he gave me the card. This is some kind of t-
“Yea.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop myself. I follow Frost in.
“The card, its all access to the club. If you want to relax, there is a private lounge in the back. Scan your card face down to get in. You won’t be disturbed there.”
When I step in I understand why it’s called The Circus, it’s like stepping into a pit of nameless/faceless debauchery. There is everything from rides to pools to clusters of cavorting people twisting to music. That card gives me full run of the place and I have a blast… When I’m finally exhausted I skitter off to the back room, it’s empty as Frost promised it would be and I throw myself on a couch in exhaustion. My eyes drift closed and I’m lost in sleep.
I wake up when a pair of strong hands take hold of my legs and yank them apart. I scramble up right kicking frantically at them, my vision is blurred and for a second I’m completely disoriented. I barely have enough time to get my bearings before the hands are on me again.
“Hold her arms. I’m gonna give dis bitch a reaming.” The words send electricity through my body and when I kick my legs out this time, the action is deadly precise. The kick lands on the masked man’s throat, I hear a crunch then he drops back knocking a table over on his way to the floor. I try to stand up but I feel another man grab the back of my hair, pain shoots down my neck and into my arms when he jerks my head backwards so I can see his face. Only I don’t see his face; he’s wearing a mask; a joker mask.
I feel betrayal slice through me like a white-hot poker. Instinctively I make a V with my fingers and shoot them out like a punch towards his eyeholes. I feel a warm squishy mess coat my hand before Mr. Joker Mask knocks me back in an attempt to flee my strike. Whirling around to check my surroundings I see my first attacker is recovering, I bend over calmly picking from the floor a heavy candleholder, and smash him over the head with it. The furry is overwhelming and when the man falls on the floor helplessly I still have some left over.
Turning back to Mr. Joker Mask, who is still bent over gripping his face and wailing in agony, I smash him over the head with it as well. He falls forward on his knees so I ditch the candleholder grab his collar and follow through with a series of punches to the face. I hear a noise behind me but its so far way. I keep punching in a fit of rage when suddenly:
“Hey! Harlequin! Cut it out!” I Jerk up to face the voice and I recognize Frost through my haze of fury. I open my mouth to correct him, to tell him my name is Harleen not Harlequin but nothing comes out; instead my eyes take in the damage in the room. The two men are on the floor covered in blood, clearly alive, but in very bad shape…. Both obviously disfigured, very probably near death.
Harleen didn’t do this…Harleen couldn’t do this! Who did this? Who am I?
“Harlequin?” Frost surveys the room unflinchingly. Taking in the gore with the ease of a man who’s seen it all before; which he probably has considering who he works for.
Without saying a word, I walk past him and leave the club. He doesn’t need help with those two; he’s obviously dealt with a lot worse. When I get home I tear my outfit to shreds (which does nothing other than give me the tactile pleasure of destruction) and tumble into bed. Surprisingly, despite my fury, I do fall asleep and I sleep very well.
I’m trying to tell myself its just another day on the job, but I can still feel the anger bubbling under the surface. I’m sitting in my office my hands wrapped around a mug of coffee.
“Harleen,” Dr Schumer walks into my office and closes the door behind him “How was the session with Joker?”
“ Well, I’m still alive so good I guess.” He stands at the door silently, looking a bit awkward. Then moving slowly away from the door he makes his way towards me.
“You know Harleen” he puts a hand on my shoulder and I immediately stiffen “If you ever need any help… or any advice about the patient” He drags his hand down my arm and I immediately stand up and back away from him.
“Dr. Schumer, please, I don’t need any help with the patient.” Anger forgotten and all of a sudden unsure of how to act I back away from him and move towards the door.
“Are you sure? I’d be glad to help in any-“
“Once again, I appreciate the offer. But I’m extremely busy and I really have to get to it. “ He looks uneasy again then, squeezing the bridge of his nose he turns to go.
“Doctor, be careful around Joker. That man has got a demon in him.”
“I’d appreciate if you don’t throw your superstitions at me Dr. Schumer.”
“Just be careful, alright?”
“Yes, of course.” I watch him walk out my office in confused silence.
Feeling slightly thrown by Schumer’s odd behavior I wait a few minutes before following out the door. Speaking of demons… I have a session to get to.
- 4
- 5
- 6
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Building up or breaking down of Harleen Quinzel