Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel

Harleen Quinzel is not hungover. Harleen Quinzel does not come to work hungover.

But she does have a lingering headache, which probably has more to do with how she wrapped up her work day yesterday than the half bottle of wine she had once she got home.

She's had two cups of coffee and a couple aspirin to go with them this morning, which have taken the edge off. She needs to be here today. For better or worse, today's her next scheduled appointment with the Joker.

They have a lot to talk about.

This recording does not exist.

(She’s told that more than once in the course of trying to get a hold of it.)

Someone who is not a member of the police, or affiliated with the district attorney’s office, or acting as counsel for the suspect would never be allowed into the interrogation room; especially not someone who is also a vigilante criminal and wanted by the police.

(Harleen replies more than once that she understands, but that she still needs the recording.)

She tries the commissioner, and the district attorney, but in the end the solution is much simpler. There are cracks still in the GCPD; small things can still be bought.

“I need this,” she tells the lieutenant. “I’m his doctor. I need to know exactly what I’m dealing with.”

He is sympathetic and only asks for half of what she’d expected to pay.

Two days later, a nondescript brown envelope turns up in her mailbox, containing an unlabeled DVD.



The picture quality is shit; the fact that most of the lights in the interrogation room are out certainly isn’t helping matters.

Harleen realizes why the lights are out the second before they come back on.



The question is a stupid one. She pulls a face that she’s glad no one can see.

She expected more from the Bat.



He’s talking and the Bat isn’t listening.

”They're only as good as the world allows them to be.”

“... these civilized people—they'll eat each other.”

Harleen is.



The Bat dials up the violence to avoid playing the game.

(How many bones did she break? Does anyone know?)

The Joker gives up the addresses and the Bat tears out of there like her cape is on fire.

Eventually, an officer is sent in to guard the door.

The minute he responds to the Joker’s question, Harleen knows this is going to go very badly.



The Joker steers the officer out of the room.

If she turns the volume up, she can hear shouting from down the hall, though the words remain indistinct.

And then the explosion.

Harleen turns the video off when the screaming starts.



All told, she watches the interrogation three times from start to finish. She rewinds, takes notes.

By the time the Joker’s next appointment rolls around, she feels about as prepared as she thinks she ever will.