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♡♦♡ GEE, YOU LOOK LIKE CRAP MAYBE I CAN SNEAK YA SOME SHAMPOO ♡♦♡
It wasn't too difficult for Gotham's widowed queen to find out where her best friend, Pamela Isley, is imprisoned. Arkham Asylum, the only place in the entire world — besides Belle Reve — willing to take in dangerous loonies. Truth be said, she never thought she'd ever return to her old workspace, but here she is...
Harley Quinn is in said place, executing her plan to help Poison Ivy escape in full disguise — a pair of large sunglasses, a black, wide-brimmed beach hat helping obscure her face, and a long, fuchsia coat that matches the silk scarf wrapped around her head and neck.
Quinn struts to the front desk, acting casual as she adjusts her sunglasses to sit comfortably on her nose. Oh, c'mon, Pam-a-lamb, she thinks, you better be here... She rings the tiny, silver bell sitting atop the desk, and a guard dressed in uniform looks up at her, peering over his glasses.
"Can I help you," he asks.
She plants on an abnormally large grin, causing the poor man's heart to instinctively jump at the sight of it. "Why yes, yes you can. I'm here to report a terrible crime."
"And what terrible crime is that," he asks, cautious.
"This one," she answers back. And before he can even bat an eyelash, she swings her pink coat open to reveal canisters of pink and blue glitter, a giant BB gun and several bean bag rounds stored away in a zip-loc bag.
Harley knew Ivy would've hated it if she needed to kill someone in order to bail her out — with the exception of Batman, of course. What a saint, she giggles. So she decided to use these are her weapon of choice. It won't kill them, they'll just hurt and leave some nasty bruises, possibly even knock them into unconsciousness. All she needs is something to protect herself while she frees Pammy out of her cage, ideally with style. And this? This is perfect! This will tell the people of Gotham that their queen has arrived.
Harley Quinn shoots the guard with a blue canister before he could even reach for the emergency button underneath his desk. She knew he'd try to do that. It was part of her training when she took her spot as a psychiatrist in the asylum. Dr. Quinzel, they used to call her, she scoffs. Not anymore. The day she fled the asylum and crowned herself the Queen of Gotham, she returned to the hospital, not as a Doctor, but as a patient. From then on, they began to call her patient #444. Blue smoke flies all around her. Instantly after she shot the guard, the bean bag hit him straight in the face, causing him to fall back and his glasses to split into two.
She wastes no time to hop onto his desk, slide herself over to the other side of it and yank his I.D card from his belt as he lays on the floor, struggling to catch his breath after being shot in the face. Continuing, with her plan, she strips off her disguise, which leaves her with just her street clothes. She is dressed in a pair of denim shorts, black combat boots and a white t-shirt that has her name written all over it in black.
