Uncovering Gotham's Biggest Secret

I, Harleen Quinzel have arrived an hour late for my job wearing a blue dress with matching shoes. My main job at Wayne Enterprises is delivering the mail and sometimes deliver packages outside of the building. Sometimes I can earn extra money by delivering sensitive materials such as disks for the higher-ups. I usually enjoy my job a great deal, but I cannot enjoy it quite as much today because of the reason I was late.

The reason I was late was because Mr. Happy Pants, or Joker if you prefer, thought it would be a good idea to bump off my girlfriend Pam Isley who used to be known as Poison Ivy. Even after the bad guys were dealt with, I still would not leave Pam's house until the police came to pick Joker and his three goons because few people know more than I do how clever the maniac is. I had to make sure that Pam was safe. Even after the danger has passed, I am still worried about her a great deal. What if one of the other Arkam inmates gets the same idea? Well, no one tries to bump off my girlfriend as long as I'm around.

I enjoy the working with the people of Wayne Enterprises because most of the people there have accepted the new me. The people I enjoy dealing with the most are Bruce Wayne and Lucius Fox who always seem to find the time to give me a kind word when I need it. My biggest opposition is the person who runs the mail room. His favorite way of offending me is by calling me "Quinn". That name is dead to me. Sometimes I am tempted to ask him to stop, but I really like the job I am now holding. Besides, dealing with that rude guy is still a thousand times better than dealing with the green-haired clown.

Now is the time that I enjoy most in my day. Now I deliver mail to the top floor which is always the nerve center of Wayne Enterprises. Every time I go there, my blood boils because of all the chattering people and beeping computers. After I have delivered my third package, I am interrupted by a grandfatherly voice speaking from behind. I know instantly that it is Lucius Fox.

"Hello, Ms. Quinzel," Mr. Fox greeted. "I'm surprised that you haven't gotten here before now. This is the first time that you've been late."

"I had to help Pam deal with a little clown trouble at her place," I explained.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Fox asked with a worried look on his face since he immediately knew what I was talking about.

"I am a lot better than he is," I cackle while throwing a punch in the air.

"Well, you take care of yourself," Mr. Fox said with a hearty laugh to excuse me.

It takes me a few more minutes to deliver the rest of the mail. The last and most important of my deliveries is to Bruce Wayne, one of the main reasons I am working here at all. I go up to an intimidating oak door and knock on it. A voice tells me to enter so that is what I do. I see a tall and imposing figure finishing up a phone call while sitting behind his desk. I leave an envelope and a package on Mr. Wayne's desk and am just about to leave when he stops me.

"Sit down, Ms. Quinzel," Mr. Wayne requested.

In any company, when the big boss asks you to do something, you should probably do it so I sit in a brown cushioned chair in front of Mr. Wayne's desk.

"Are you okay?" Mr. Wayne asked. "I heard about the trouble you and Pam went through today."

"I really enjoyed nailing that sucker!" I proudly answered.

"Did the clown give you that black eye?" Mr. Wayne asked.

I blush bright red when I remember that my eye got poked by a flying button yesterday when I ripped open Pam's shirt.

"It's hardly noticeable," Mr. Wayne speaks to comfort me.

"I accidentally did it to myself," I explain. "Let's just say that the story is not for civilized company."

"So, how is Pam?" Mr. Wayne asks with a crooked smile since he is smart enough to grasp at least some of the hidden meaning behind my statement.

"There will probably be wedding bells in the near future," I state happily.

"Do you think I will be invited?" Mr. Wayne asks.

"Count on it," I answer with a bright smile.

I am about to leave when a burning question enters my mind.

"Why have you been so nice to me?" I ask the head honcho.

"For starters, you aren't the first inmate that I have tried to help," the boss answers.

"Oh, you mean Arnold?" I ask referring to the Ventriloquist.

"You have his old job," Mr. Wayne pointed out. "Plus, your Arkham doctor really went to bat for you."

Mr. Wayne is referring to my favorite doctor, Joan Leland. I now have lunch at her house twice a week as a friend.

"But, that isn't the biggest reason," Mr. Wayne continued. "I had to rebuild a life once too."

I start to freak out a little because my mind has gone into flashback territory. I am remembering the first time I tried to go sane. I wanted to buy a dress, but the cashier forgot to take off the alarm tag. The alarm set me off and sent me into crazy mode causing me to kidnap Veronica Vreeland. I almost got killed by her General father who tried to blow up our car with a tank. What he didn't realize was that he would have killed his own daughter if he had killed me. Not only did Batman save me in the end, but he also gave me the dress in Arkham. When I asked him why he was being so nice to me, Batman said the same thing that Bruce Wayne has now said to me.

A second flashback enters my mind. Poison Ivy once **** Bruce Wayne and **** him to take us on a very extravagant shopping spree. We were having the time of our lives until the **** wore off. When we tried to give him a second dose of the ****, Bruce Wayne accidentally fell down an elevator shaft. Soon after, Batman put us both in the pokey. We never could figure out how Bruce Wayne could survive falling into the shaft. I now know the answer. Bruce Wayne fell into the shaft on purpose. He wanted us to think he was dead. Why did he do it?

BRUCE WAYNE IS BATMAN!

I look at Mr. Wayne and he is giving me a mean look and he has his arms folded across his chest. Is he going to fire me? Is he going to kill me? Fortunately, the only thing he does is sigh.

"It seems that I have made a mistake," Mr. Wayne grumbled.

"Um... well... you are lucky that I don't care what you do in your spare time anymore," I speak nervously.

"The only thing that I can do is trust that you won't tell anyone else," Mr. Wayne orders.

"I won't even tell Pam," I reply while raising my right hand in a gesture of promise.

I