As for Harley Quinn, the reason is simple—she's one of us."
"One of you?" Ethan's curiosity spiked.
A psychiatrist from Arkham, Joker's criminal partner, called "one of ours" by an elite Joint Bureau agent?
"To be precise, she almost became one of ours. Before even finishing her studies, she was included in the Bureau's talent reserve program as a trainee agent. Otherwise, how could she be assigned to a high-risk facility like Arkham immediately after graduation?"
Ethan exhaled slowly. Harley Quinn wasn't just a dangerous criminal—she had been trained, observed, and groomed for this from the start.
...
Flying to Gotham City in the Airbus didn't take long.
Minutes after ending his video call with Bruce Wayne, Ethan finally saw the legendary Arkham Asylum.
He had only seen it in comics and games, and seeing it in real life, it was far larger than imagined.
The Airbus could land vertically, but it was huge—and yet Arkham had enough open space for it to dock directly.
Ethan frowned upon landing.
Was the security really this weak? Such a massive facility, and only a handful of guards?
This was supposed to be second only to the "Phantom Zone" in terms of security.
"Welcome. I'm the deputy director of Arkham Asylum. Mr. Wayne has already informed us. You must be Agent Hunter?"
"Yes. Lead the way. I want to extract Harley Quinn immediately to prevent any complications," Ethan said, shaking the deputy director's hand. "After all, she's connected to one of Gotham's most troublesome residents."
"You're not wrong. The Joker is pure chaos. No telling what he might do next," the deputy director said, wiping sweat from his forehead as he led Ethan and Ada through the asylum.
As they walked, he gave a lengthy tour, explaining the facility in painstaking detail.
Ethan, holding his personal Joint Bureau terminal, contacted headquarters intermittently, making requests as a Level Seven agent while keeping pace.
Due to Harley Quinn's dangerous and unique nature, her room was located in the most secure, hard-to-reach section.
Even with the deputy director guiding them, it took a long time to reach her quarters.
A heavy iron door bore a nameplate: "Harley Quinn."
"No patrols inside? For a patient this dangerous, you didn't assign extra guards?"
"You don't understand. This room itself is the best guard. If she can escape this room, no one in the city could stop her."
"Fair point," Ethan replied, feigning compliance but unconvinced.
Harley Quinn had a gymnast's physique and a trainee agent's training. Since her descent into madness, she seemed to ignore human limits entirely—like some legendary genetic lock had been broken, boosting her combat ability.
The old-timers of the Republic often said the insane were naturally strong—and there was truth to that.
…but it still didn't justify leaving the room unguarded.
"Better not bring any weapons inside. If she gets one, it'll be bad."
"We're just here to extract a patient. What weapons?"
Ethan patted his suit—and the Magnum he carried beneath it.
Before transmigrating, he had only played with it in video games. Now, he had to sleep with it under his pillow.
"Alright. Be careful," the deputy director said, opening the room's massive alloy door—like a bank vault.
With grinding gears, Harley Quinn's quarters were revealed.
"…Is this how you treat high-risk patients?"
Ethan's mouth twitched. Fighting the urge to comment, he glanced inside.
This wasn't a ward—or even a prison.
This was a little girl's bedroom.
And a hyper-girly one at that.
High-end, custom furniture and appliances, all in soft pink tones.
Even a hyena in a princess dress lay snoring on a cushion.
Apart from being unable to leave or contact the outside world, it was the perfect homebody paradise.