Humans were incredibly illogical creatures, Rahn thought to herself. She watched as the woman dressed as a jester tumbled off the side of the cliff, arms desperately clawing the air above her and throat releasing a shrill scream.

There was no practical point to these gestures. A simpleton could have told you that flailing about madly would do nothing to slow your descent; gravity was a certainty, not a possibility. However, humans engaged in this stupid behaviour automatically; instinctively.

Rahn's perception of time stretched the moment into an eternity in human eyes; she watched the woman's pupils dilate, her four limbs thrash up and down. The body eventually slammed into the jagged teeth of rocks at the edge of the coast. A blood-freezing 'snap' ended the woman's screaming, and her face's animated contortion vanished.

Rahn turned to the Joker. His pale face was twisted in a wince. "Eugh..."

"Why did you do that?" Rahn asked inquisitively.

The Joker cocked his head playfully. "Well...they usually catch her...and that gives me time to skedaddle. I suppose you're new, so make sure you remember to not let her die next time." He declared, presenting his wrists as if Rahn had a pair of handcuffs at the ready.

"There will not be a 'next time'."

"Oh...?"

"You will be corrected at the mental health facility at Arkham Asylum."

"Ah...good. For a second there I thought you were gonna kill me."

Rahn frowned. The idea was a tempting one, but to gain the trust of this world's guardians, she would have to restrain her dispensation of lethal force...

Since her focus was on the chemically scarred man before her, Rahn did not detect the two approaching law enforcement vehicles until they were in visual range.

The Joker chuckled. "Here come the fuzz. Hopefully one of these bozos is on my payroll."

Skidding to a halt on the edge of the road, the cars had their doors thrown open, allowing their occupants to emerge. Each hand a firearm trained on both Joker and Rahn.

"GCPD, put your hands on your head!" one officer barked.

Joker instantly followed their instructions, leaving a curious Rahn to observe the police officers.

With a paling face, another cop added, "S-Sarge...it's him...! The Joker...! Shouldn't we call for backup?"

"Perez, cool it. You gotta shake all those ghost stories; I've taken him in before. He's just a guy. A nut job sure, but just a guy. I'm more worried about his new friend," replied the Sergeant. The conversation was much too muted for the Joker to hear, but Rahn comprehended it just fine.

Rahn took a step forward and said, "This man has committed multiple counts of murder, he--"

"Woah, hold it! Hold it!"

She stopped. It was clear that these police officers were afraid of her. That would not do. As much as it pained Rahn to obey the commands of such an infinitesimal lifeform, it would not be wise to incite further terror.

The Joker giggled.

"Where's the missus, Jay?" asked the Sergeant.

"You know me, gentlemen. Never one for settling down."

Despite her somewhat rudimentary understanding of human emotions, Rahn could tell that the Sergeant was losing his patience. "Cut the crap, where's Harley?"

The only answer was the Joker's low sinister laughter.

At a painstaking pace to Rahn, the two officers proceeded to apprehend the Joker; the Sergeant handcuffed him while the rookie kept his pistol fixed on the stranger.

The Sergeant fastened the cuffs around the criminal's wrists, peering over the edge of the cliff as he did. His eyes widened and he froze. He fumbled for his radio and squeezed its key, "Dispatch, car two-two-seven."

"Go ahead, two-two-seven," answered dispatch.

The Sergeant took a breath before continuing, "Get me emergency services. Got a suspect fallen about...sixty feet onto the rocks on twenty-nine Rochester."

"Copy that, putting you through."

The rookie glanced over at his superior officer. "Did he..."

"Son of a bitch tossed her off the side..."

With a fiery set of eyes now turned to Rahn, the rookie pressed, "You just watched him do it?"

Rahn cocked her head. It was clear that a simple 'yes' would harbour disapproval from these law enforcement officials. The last thing she wanted was to garner mistrust among the earthlings, especially if it extended to the Justice League. So, she wagered that lying was probably the best course of action. "I did not arrive in time to catch her."

The Joker erupted into a fit of laughter. "Oh I like you. I like you a lot."

The Sergeant thuggishly pushed his captive towards the squad car. "Hey, you got something to say?"

Joker's eyes met Rahn's for a split second, and his jagged red lips thinned in a mischievous smirk. "Yes. Let's go for a ride, officer. I call shotgun!"

"Shut up. Get in the bloody car." The Sergeant wrenched the back door of the squad car open and shoved Joker in without any real regard for his wellbeing.

Rahn did consider that the Joker may try to tell the police what really happened, but was relying heavily on the fact that he was deemed insane. No reasonable person would believe anything he had to say.

Just as the Sergeant was going to start questioning Rahn, his radio went off. "Gotham Harbour Emergency Services, what can we do for you, officer?"

"I need a rescue chopper and medical personnel at twenty-nine Rochester Straight. A suspect was thrown off the cliff and onto the rocks."

Rahn held up a hand and said, "Pardon the intrusion. The helicopter won't be necessary."

As if the ninteen-metre drop was simply a single step away, Rahn moved down to Harley's motionless body, scooped it up in her hands and returned to the police. From their perspective, she had disappeared, then reappeared with Harley in her arms.

"H-Holy shit," murmured the rookie. "Is she still alive?"

Rahn nodded. "Yes. She has dozens of broken bones, heavy bruising, and internal bleeding, but she is alive."

The Sergeant narrowed his eyes. "You kryptonian or something? X-ray vision?"

"Hardly," Rahn dismissed.

He then shook his head and focused. "How quickly can you get her to the hospital?"

"In a span of time that would appear to be instantaneous to you humans, but this woman is a suspect is she not? Is she to be incarcerated?"

"Y-Yeah, after we stop her from dying."

Rahn cocked her head. "Curious."

"And after you're done, you need to come into the precinct. We need a statement regarding what the hell happened here."

"These two were engaging in acts of violence against innocent civilians. There are bodies in that building of commerce," Rahn reported blandly as she pointed to the toy shop.

Massaging his brow in frustration, the Sergeant reiterated, "No, a formal written statement. You can't just tell me, you need to come into the station. It'll take fifty minutes, max."

The fact that paperwork could take that long to complete baffled Rahn, a being who could travel from one end of the planet to the other within the blink of an eye. She was not going to waste any of her time conceding any further to the humans' primitive legalities.

Without another word, Rahn and her unwitting damsel in distress, popped out of view for the two officers.

"...'You have to give us a statement'? Are you serious? That was like...an alien super soldier or something."

"Shut it. This ain't Metropolis, I never got told what to say to Goddamn aliens. Shit, those fancy pants hotshots have entire protocols dedicated to that. What do we have? 'Uh, exercise caution if the perp is wearing some kind of stupid costume 'cause chances are, they're batshit'. So yeah, I'm gonna treat 'em the way I treat everyone else."

"Like they're scum?"

The Sergeant nodded. "Like they're scum."

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Rahn's first impression on hospitals was that they were a mess of contradictions; many people seemed to be in a huge hurry whilst others were too slow to get out of their way. It was supposed to be a place of healing, and yet cries of anguish assaulted the halls.

Rahn stood in the middle of the chaos, holding the unconscious villain in her arms and watching as people passed right by; either unaware of the injured girl or too busy to stop. Finally, someone halted in their tracks and stared up at the tall alien woman. Rahn still had the thumping, living suit stuck to her - covering everything from her feet to her face. She looked like a featureless monster but the nurse only stared for two seconds before glancing down at Harley. Apparently, horrifying aliens were only secondary concerns in Gotham's hospital.

"Oh, God..." The nurse, wearing a name badge on her left breast that read 'Elise', gasped - recognition glistening in her hazel eyes. "What did that evil asshole do to her this time?"

"I assume that you are referring to The Joker," Rahn replied, "He pushed her off a ledge. He has been detained for his crimes, however I was instructed to bring his accomplice into your care. She is suffering from severe internal bleeding, clean breaks in both femurs, seven broken ribs, and at least five other fractures to the arms and skull."

Elise blinked once, twice, then thrice. Clearly she had not been expecting a six foot tall (and completely masked) woman to diagnose her own patient. Still, there was no time to dwell on the shock. There was never any time to linger when you worked at the only hospital in Gotham city. Shaking her head and taking a deep inhale, Elise finally said "Follow me."

Though Rahn grew sour at the idea of taking orders from a human, she obeyed regardless. It took exactly ten seconds to reach the room, which was ten seconds too long in Rahn's opinion, and on the way there Elise had grabbed a passing nurse and asked them to summon someone called 'Doctor Bell' to room 152.

Rahn looked into the room as soon as they arrived. There were so many machines and wires and tubes - a reminder that the human body was an incredibly frail shell, its countless autonomic functions an utter hindrance unless they were operating as intended.

"Put her here," Elise stated with a quick gesture to the empty bed, "and be as gentle as you can."

Rahn obliged, and the moment that Harley was placed on the off-white mattress, the nurse started attaching a plethora of tubes and wires to her. Checking her vitals and airways, then examining a few areas of swelling, to confirm the diagnosis that Rahn had given her.

The doctor arrived not long after that, but Rahn was already long gone. She saw no reason to linger in this place any more than she had to. So, intending to learn more about the strange relationship between this 'Joker' and his 'Harley Quinn', she headed towards Wayne Enterprises - an enormous building in the middle of the city that Bruce spent most of the daylight hours inside. In fact, he was just arriving out the front of this structure as Rahn appeared; sporting a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and black pants without even the faintest wrinkle in them.

Instead of taking the direct approach, Rahn landed in an empty alley and allowed her suit to slowly crawl away from her face, then her arms and legs, until it was nowhere within sight. It didn't vanish into thin air, however. It never left her. The living organism that often stretched and contorted itself to form Rahn's suit, receded under her clothes and adhered itself to her spine. It fit snugly against every curve of her spine in a white, pulsating hub of flesh, then it buried any extra mass deep into her skin like tiny vein-like tendrils.

Rahn hadn't expected that she would have to hide this suit so diligently, otherwise she would have found a more effective method of retracting it. None of that seemed to matter though. As long as it was hidden, Bruce was relatively tolerable...and with the constant gaggle of 'reporters' stalking him at work, she couldn't exactly blame him for being cautious.

Trying to move as slowly as possible (which, to humans, was a perfectly reasonable speed), Rahn hopped to the front of the building and tapped Bruce on the shoulder just as he was reaching the front doors. She felt him tense under her hand and turn with the biggest scowl to ever grace the Earth.

"I need to speak with you about something," Rahn said with a quick glance behind them. The streets were mostly empty...except for two men in a red car parked across the road.

"I'm busy." Bruce huffed, shrugging her away.

"You say that as if being busy is a condition completely unique to you." Rahn mused. "You humans are very good at making being 'busy' an excuse to not get more busy."

Bruce gritted his teeth. She could hear them being hissing in protest above his clenched jaw. If he made a habit of that, Rahn thought, his teeth would be reduced to stubs before he turned fifty. "Get-"

There was a click. It rang in Rahn's ears and drowned out anything that Bruce might have been saying. She held her hand up, a motion for silence, then glanced over her shoulder once more at the crimson car. The two men were still there but one of them was holding a camera. Reporters. Rahn frowned. The prospect of being captured in a photograph talking to Bruce wasn't much of a bother to her, but she knew that Bruce's reaction was likely to be vastly different. He hated paparazzi, though he tolerated them, but being seen with anyone from his second life was a dangerous game - secret identities or not.

"I'll meet you at the cave." Rahn finally said with a barely detectable nod towards the car.

"Good idea." Bruce replied dryly; his tone suggested that this was, in fact, the sort of idea that she should have had before strolling up to him and compromising his cover.

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