This choice: her cell... where a nice warm meal awaits her? • Go Back...Chapter #5Exper. #1: Harleen Quinzelle by: Dr. Door   "Mr. Arkham." Dr. Gilman greeted from his phone, "Could you please have someone send me the file of Harleen Quinzelle?"
"Why are you so hellbent on using only the truly infamous inmates as your first test subject?" Jeremiah sighed.
"Because no one would give a rat's ass if you cured a no name." Gilman said with a brutal deadpan tone, "All joking aside Warden, I've heard that Harley's obsession with Joker is just as bad, if not worse, than his obsession with Batman. I'm not able to fully promise you anything right now, but I think I might be able to remove her 'mad love' of him."
Gilman was given a sympathetic chuckle in response.
"This isn't the first time a doctor's said they could cure these people Hermann." The warden reminded, "You only have to look at the very woman you wish to experiment on to see what regularly happens to those with big aspirations."
Gilman stopped his rebuttal after last sentence. He never did consider what would happen to himself had he started the experiment. There were thousands of Joker horror stories alone. The mere thought of what would happen if he tried people like Pamela Isley or god forbid, Jane Doe, nearly convinced the poor guy to peddle back, maybe try a different career. But Gilman's fear was a weak toxin, effortlessly destroyed by one thing, determination.
"If something does make me insane," Gilman promised, "You'll have every right to put me down. But I need to at least try my idea sir. Most if not all of the therapy methods here have been dominated by the use of hostility whether they be from Dr. Crane or Mr. Bolton. Maybe we should tray the opposite of fear and torture."
"Well, I can't name too many people that gave me permission to kill 'em should things go wrong." Arkham admitted, "Alright, you got your file on Quinzelle. It'll be at your office within ten or fifteen minutes. Anything else you need of me?"
"Do you think you could tell the men apprehending her to postpone her arrival at her cell?"
"Um, sure? Don't tell me you're already starting the treatment?"
"Why not? The residents here like to plan ahead right? Best to get this going before someone like the Joker can screw it up, in my opinion."
"Fair enough. I wish you luck, Dr. Gilman. You're really going to need it." Jeremiah said before hanging up.
After ten minutes of chemical preparations and cooking, Dr. Gilman had received Harley Quinn's file. It was of fairly average size, maybe a touch wider than most.
"Thank you." Dr. Gilman said to an assistant while opening the file, "Odd. There seems to be a few pieces of black paper mixed in with the regular white papers."
"Those are Batman's reports sir." The assistant explained, "If you want, I can take those out and-"
"And just flat out ignore info that comes from the man who's interacted with Quinn more than myself?" Dr. Gilman scoffed, "I'm not sure why, but I have a feeling in my gut that says it'd be wise to read these papers."
"If you say so Doctor." The assistant said before leaving.
Gilman read every single sentence of the file, twice. He made sure that he caught every single detail, he needed to know everything about this woman before he tried his new method out. As he finished reading, Gilman received a call from one of the guards.
"Sir, Ms. Quinzele is getting very reckless here." The guard said, "Can we please take the lady to her cell now?"
"Sure, we're ready for her now." Dr. Gilman said with a smile on his face.
---------------------------------------------------------
"Why the hell are you always lookin' at that clock?" A wooden puppet asked, sitting opposite of Harley at a table.
"Countin' the time." Harley said, which wasn't exactly a lie. She just wasn't just counting for pleasure.
It had been thirty minutes before the people at Arkham were finally able to shove Harley into her cell. It wouldn't have been more obvious if they flat out told the woman "We're just keeping you here until the trap is fully complete". Quinn had to be alert, she knew something had to be going down. She just didn't know what.
At the very least, the slender clown was about to be moved from the absolutely lame-o-roni recreational room. That place had nothing but dumb books, lame games, insufferable fellow patients, and a sorely out of date television. Several of the more "interesting" patients were often banned from even stepping near this place so that destroyed the possibility of her hanging out with her best friends. With one notable exception.
"And I thought that Clock King was og-sessed wit' time." The puppet continued as the quiet man holding it looked straight ahead.
"Why are you anxious ta know anyway?" Harley asked with irritation.
"Just askin' a koo-estion." The puppet said defensively.
"Well, leave me alone will ya?" Harley asked, "I'm focusin' on something."
"Nothing oo-ill distract ya huh?"
"Exactly, I'm totally up and alert." She answered, determined.
"Oh Harrrley! It's ya uncle J!"
That little great caused Harley to look over at the entrance as excitement filled her insides.
"Puddin', is that you?!" Quinn asked with glee.
But as she continued to gaze at that direction, excitement turned into suspicion as the slim jester turned back towards the quiet man, this time with a small childlike grin on his face. Harley wasn't amused.
"Ha ha haaaaaaaa..." Harley sarcastically laughed before a little smile took over her lips, "I have ta say though, ya really did nail Mistah J's voice."
"How Shocking." The Puppet snarked, "A guy that's good with th-oices is good soundin' like anotha guy's th-oice."
"Shaddup." Harley said defensively before a group of guards approached her.
"Alright Quinn," The man said, "Your cell is ready for you."
"See ya later Arnie, you too Scarface!" Quinn waved before being pushed out the doors.
Within a couple minutes, Harley Quinn was finally in front of her old cell. She tried to do as much decorating as she could to make it her "home". After all, if she's gonna get dragged here all the time, might as well personalize it a little. As the guards gently walked Harley in the cell and uncuffed her, Harley daydreamed about immediately snapping the guard's neck and running away. The other guard with a taser dissuaded her from pulling the stunt.
Once Harley was alone in her cell, she almost crash landed on her bed before something caught her eye.
It was a medium sized plate with a generously sized sandwich on it. Harley looked at the meal sitting on the floor for a few seconds. It did look delicious, but then again that's exactly the kind of thought these people would want her having. Just then, a shadow loomed over Quinn's cell as she turned to see Dr. Gilman standing right in the center, staring at Quinn through the observation glass.
"I hope you enjoy it." The doctor said, "I didn't know your favorite dish so I just made a simple sandwich."
"Cute." She snarked, "Hate ta break to ya Doc but I'm already taken."
"Oh don't worry. I wouldn't dream of breaking you two up. It's just a new courtesy for all patients who enter Arkham, returning or otherwise."
"What did you pour in the sandwich?" Harley asked bluntly, she was ditzy, not stupid.
Hermann put on a grin and walked closer to her, soon he was so close he could breathe on the glass.
"Ketchup, mustard, a little bit of pickle relish." The doctor quipped, "Nothing I'd personally put on a sandwich but I'm not really a condiment person."
Harley Quinn walked to her bed and sat down, looking at the meal.
"What if I don't want to eat it?" She asked, eyeing Gilman carefully.
"Then I'll take it out and store it away for a few hours before it's time for dinner." Gilman answered, barely changing his expression, "I just thought you'd want something to eat to heal."
"Oh really?" Harley asked, "That's supposed to heal me."
"Well from what I understand you've been very busy out there. Always running, jumping, fighting, moving, that takes a hard toll on your body. I wanted to make sure you rested and got some nutrition in your stomach."
"...I guess you're right." Harley admitted.
"Besides, what if Joker needs you for something? Surely it'd be easier to help him with a full stomach."
Harley then fell silent once the Doctor mentioned her Puddin'. Harley remembered all those times she found it hard to participate in Joker's schemes without at least eating an apple. And hell, when did she eat last? As much as this Gilly guy was suspicious, he wasn't wrong. And then Harley remembered that a certain flying rodent would never any allow doctor at Arkham to seriously harm the patients. It seemed very likely that this Doctor was simply nice, hopelessly naive for sure, but still nice.
"Well Ms. Quinn?" Gilman asked, "Are you going to eat the meal or not?"
Harley thought it over for well over a minute before she turned the Doctor. She had made her decision.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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