Hey Guys, been a while since I have been writing. I'm re-uploading this story which was one of my first creations, I hope you enjoy.

The Soundwave1234

Harley Quinn let down a torrent of tears. She sat on the patchy, uncomfortable bed in the tiny cell number 3 she was locked in. Joker abandoned her yet again, she still remembered his last words to her

"Sorry kiddo, there's no prize for second place" those very words cut into her deeper than Zsazh's favourite blood coated blade.

The Bat left her on her own, stole her party list, scanned her hand for no particular reason that she was aware of, Dr Young was dead, Poison Ivy was loose probably masturbating with her plants while the crazies were still loose roaming around Arkham!

She reassured herself multiple times saying that no one could possibly get to her without access to a key card! A smile of hope stretched across her delicate face, she was safe and she suddenly felt strongly secure in Cell Number 3. Until she spotted her own key card lying in the middle of the room, outside her cell for any anyone to see. Her smile dropped. Fear replaced it quickly. She thought about the numerous amount of thugs (whether they be Joker's, Two-Face's, Penguin's or some other sick freak's) or Blackgate prisoners that would happily rape, torture, tear her open and for the grand finale, eat her alive, slowly. Some sick bastards would enjoy it too. Fear as well as sorrow encouraged another rush of fresh tears. She wondered where her life went so painfully wrong.

She did brilliantly at school, with the highest grades in the entire school, reached finals in her gymnastics earning a tremendous first place, had a charming boyfriend who had the potential to be the greatest author the world had ever seen!… But then she applied for a job helping the very people she had become herself, Harley remembered her passion that was once held so strong, the overwhelming desire to aid all the broken minds in Gotham, sheltering from the rough, cruel world.. She smiled pitifully thinking about how easy it would have been to stop all of this, to have a great life with a boyfriend who wasn't psychotically insane, two dogs that weren't hyenas and a job that didn't permit or even encourage mass murder. She laughed at her own stupidity. Yet the rest of Harley's conscience screamed at her that she didn't have a choice. Her father was physically and verbally abusive, her mother was insanely jealous that Harley had more attention from her Father than she did, and at the end of every day when Harley was left hiding under her bed completely on her own with a dream hoping that she could have a successful life, Harleen remembered her own, dark sorrow.

Batman failed to notice the small gun she had hidden in her ridiculously high, right boot.

"World's greatest detective? What a joke..." Harley stated, completely dropping her previous high pitched accent she had adopted to please the Joker's sick fetishes.

She took it out and examined it slowly, allowing the firearm to tumble around in her hands. It was loaded and powerful enough to kill instantly…

"Mr J?" Harley called out quietly… mournfully "Mr J? I hope you're listening… Don't be mad sweetie, but, but... what would you do… what would you do if I killed myself?"