The Chemical Vat

Once upon a time, long before Harley Quinn had her own hyenas or her own mallet or her own reputation, there was one strange, unforgettable night at a place called Ace Chemicals, way out on the edge of Gotham City.

Harleen Quinzel had helped the Joker escape from Arkham Asylum yet again — it felt like the hundredth time by now, though she had stopped counting. Batman had chased the two of them across the rooftops of Gotham, through alleyways and over fire escapes, until finally they reached the old chemical plant, its tall smokestacks silent against the night sky.

Inside, the plant was full of narrow, rusted catwalks that creaked with every step, high above enormous open vats of strange, glowing liquid. It was supposed to be one more quick, quiet getaway, just like all the ones before it.

It wasn't.

Batman finally cornered the Joker on a narrow walkway, high above one of the biggest vats in the whole plant. There was a scuffle. A scramble. And then, in one terrible instant, the Joker's foot slipped right off the edge of the walkway.

Harleen didn't stop to think. She never did, not when it really mattered. She dove forward and reached for him with both hands, and together, they went tumbling over the railing and down, down, down into the churning chemicals below.

The splash was enormous — a great fizzing, bubbling wave of light and liquid that rose up and then settled back into stillness.

For a long moment, nothing happened at all.

Then Harleen's head broke the surface. She gasped for air, coughing, her hair completely plastered to her face, and she swam toward the edge of the vat, pulling herself up and out onto the cold factory floor. She lay there for a moment, catching her breath, water and chemicals dripping in little puddles around her.

Slowly, she pushed herself up and looked around. Nearby, propped against an old barrel, was a cracked mirror, and Harleen leaned in close to see her reflection.

She barely recognized herself.

Her skin, once ordinary and pale, had turned pure white, smooth as porcelain. Streaks of her hair had bleached completely white, with the faintest tint of pink along one side. She blinked. She touched her own cheek, just to be sure it was really her.

She should have been frightened. Almost anyone else would have been. But instead, Harleen Quinzel started to laugh — a bright, surprised little giggle that grew and grew until she couldn't stop it at all.

The Joker climbed out of the vat a moment later, soaking wet from head to toe, and looked her over with a wide, delighted grin.

"Well, well," he said. "Look at you."

He circled her once, studying the white skin, the pink-and-white hair, the laugh that wouldn't quit. And then, right there on the spot, he gave her a brand-new name.

"Harley Quinn," he announced, "like the harlequin jesters on those old carnival posters."

Harleen tried the name out loud, just once. It fit her better than "Doctor Quinzel" ever had.

She wandered through the factory until she found a supply closet near the loading dock, and inside it, tucked behind some old uniforms, was a costume — red on one side, black on the other, covered in diamond patterns, and jingling softly with tiny silver bells. She pulled it on right there in the factory, smoothing the fabric, adjusting the little bells at her collar, and spun once in front of that same cracked mirror to admire the whole effect.

Nobody at Ace Chemicals ever explained exactly what had been bubbling in those vats. And Harley never bothered to ask. Some questions, she figured, were more fun left unanswered.

Outside, sirens began to wail in the distance as Gotham City police closed in on the plant, their lights flashing red and blue against the factory windows. Harley peeked through a cracked pane of glass, listening to the sirens grow louder, and tightened the little bells on her collar one more time.

She had a brand-new name. She had a brand-new laugh, brighter and louder than anything she'd ever known before. And somewhere out there, past the factory gates and the flashing lights, a whole new life was waiting for her.

That, Harley decided with a grin, was more than enough to get started with.

And so, with a jingle of bells and a bounce in her step, Harley Quinn slipped out into the Gotham night — ready for whatever came next.