Beads of sweat began to dew along Barbara Gordon's forehead as she launched into yet another combat drill. Her flurry of punches sounded like a drum solo against her punching bag, and she grinned self-assuredly at how well she was doing.

It was hard to believe that just one year ago she'd taken up the moniker of 'Batgirl', prowling the streets of Gotham to mete out Bat-flavored justice, and even harder to believe that a year ago she'd thought of herself as 'fit'.

Only a few months into fighting the worst criminals Gotham had to offer had told her otherwise, and so she'd had to kickstart her training regimen, learning new aerobic exercises and new martial arts every week.

It had paid off spectacularly, and she'd bested every one of the would-be burglars and robbers that called Gotham their home. Little did she know that it also had caught the attention of one of Gotham's most notorious criminals.

A knock came from the door to her apartment and she flinched in surprise, whirling towards the sound in confusion. Who could that be? Nobody was supposed to know that she was here right now, which could only mean that it was either someone working for Batman himself, or it was one of the rogues they'd faced.

Well, if it was the latter, they'd find her more than ready to take them on. Barbara smirked as she clenched her fist, looking to the door. It had been a while since she'd fought someone just after warming up, and right now she figured she could take on even Clayface and win.

So confident was she that the heroine slipped on only her cowl, heading to the door and yanking it open quickly, to catch whoever had knocked off-guard.

The reward for her assuredness was a faceful of a green knockout gas, and as Barbara fell to the floor, she heard a sweet female voice coo: "Well, ain't this one hell of a first date."

xXx

Barbara came to a matter of minutes later, not enough time for the sun to have set outside; but enough time for her to be undressed, apparently. A woman dressed as a court jester lounged across form the vigilante, smiling at her happily.

"Well, mornin', sleepyhead!" The woman called, and Barbara growled with recognition.

It was Harleen Quinzel; or as she was better known, Harley Quinn. The woman had been a doctor at Arkham Asylum before the Joker had gotten into her brain, and since then she'd never been the same. Or sane, for that matter.

"What do you want." Barbara growled, looking down to her body and back up to the woman with disdain. "And why am I in my underwear?"

"Well, I'm lookin' for someone to be my new partner-in-crime, if you catch my drift... And as for your other question, sweetie, I think you'd love to get changed after you get changed!" Harley chirped happily, giggling at some unheard joke.

Instead of dignifying that with a reply, Barbara prepared to leap towards Harley and knock her down. But before she'd so much as tensed her muscles, Harley tugged something out from behind herself, pointing it at Barbara's face.

It was a slowly spinning disc with a black spiral on it, and it captivated Barbara's attention utterly and completely. She slumped to the ground, her muscles growing weak, and felt her jaw slacken as she let herself be entranced by the strange spiral.

As soon as it had appeared, it was snatched away; and the redhead shook her head with a scowl. "W-what was that?" She asked, still feeling a little groggy.

"Aw, this? It's just a little old hypnotizer. Mr. J thought that it was a little too British for his tastes, but I think it suits me just fine." Harley beamed, tapping it to the side of her head gently. "After all, I am a psychiatrist. If that old lughead were to use it on you, your eggs might end up scrambled!"

"As opposed to?" Barbara glowered at her captor, suddenly wary of the power she held.

"Sunny side up." Harley chirped, blasting Barbara with another dose of hypnotic power. "After all, I want a partner in crime that ain't gonna treat me like dirt."

"Nnh!" Barbara moaned loudly, fighting back the spiral's influence thanks to some anti-psychic training Bruce Wayne had taught her. "I... I'm not going to be your partner!" She managed, despite feeling a new side of her awaken.

She'd always lived around doing good; fighting for justice. But now... Now there was a devilish part of her that wanted nothing more than to team up with Harley and run Gotham for themselves.

The woman blanched at the realization of how much she'd been affected by Harley's hypnosis, glaring up to her angrily. "And I'm not going to help you out on anything!" She struggled to stand, preparing herself to fight off another hypnotic wave; then drag Harley back to Arkham Asylum, where she belonged.

"Well, I mean... I guess you don't want to fight Mr. J, then." Harley said off-handedly, looking at Barbara like the cat that just caught the canary.

Sure enough, this thought was one that agreed with both of her personalities, and despite herself, the woman became more than a little intrigued. "Explain." She said, still trying to fight the effects of that damnable hypnotic spiral. She wobbled a little, but her body was her own again. She'd hear out Harley first; then deal with her.

"Well... I mean, I know that you like fightin' jerks like him; and I happen to be in the mood to make a friend."

"A... Friend?" Barbara blinked, not quite understanding the concept. It was partially from the hypnotic influence and partially because her two closest associates were a man who spent his time in a literal cave and an angsty teenager who'd moved to Bludhaven. It had been so long since she'd honestly socialized with someone her age and gender that she'd actually begun to miss it. "I could hear more of that."

"Really? Yay, you're the best!" Harley chirped, slinging her arms around Barbara's neck. "Ya see, Mr. J just isn't the same guy I thought he was all those crimes ago... I mean, it used to be nice back when we were sweet, but now he's a little too Chris Brown for my tastes."

"Huh?" Barbara asked, not quite catching on. For some odd reason, her detective's insight just wasn't working the way it should... She furrowed her brow and tried to concentrate, only to give her attention to Harley again as the woman began to speak once more.

"Let's just say that he treated me worse than Zack Snyder treats superheroes, and leave it at that." Harley muttered darkly, rubbing her arm and looking out Barbara's window.

It left the woman wide open, and Barbara realized that now was her chance to pounce upon the criminal and bring her to justice. But strangely enough, she didn't feel an urge to do anything of the sort. After all, Harley had just bared some of her soul to Barbara; and she really did seem in need of a friend...

"Hey, I've got my own bones to pick with him too." Barbara said uneasily, unwittingly accepting some of the spiral's suggestions into her brain. She stood slowly and embraced Harley gently, deciding that right now the woman needed a little comfort.

To her surprise, Harley stiffened at her touch, as though she expected Barbara to beat her senseless. Then the woman relaxed, her own arms wrapping around Barbara's waist and a soft sigh escaping her lips. "R-really?"

"Really. We'll go out there and we'll bring him to justice, just you wait. He won't know what hit him." Barbara pulled back from Harley expecting to see gratitude in the woman's eyes, but instead she only found anger.

"No, you don't get it!" Harley snapped, batting Barbara's arms away and firing the hypnotic spiral point-blank into her face. "I don't want justice, I want revenge! I want-need someone who's gonna help me kick the crap out of that psycho!"

The force of the spiral and Harley's emotion alike overwhelmed Barbara, and she fell backwards onto the ground, her eyes swirling and drool pooling out of the corner of her mouth. It was like her mind was a comic strip and Harley had just spilled white-out over it, leaving her entirely blank.

Dimly, she heard: "Aw, nuts. I think I mighta broken her... And we were gonna be such good friends..."

Her vacant eyes caught sight of a dejected Harley kicking at the floor miserably, with what looked to be genuine sadness on her face. Slowly, Barbara began to piece together her mind; though this time she reshaped it into something that would make Harley happy.

While Barbara's core was still centered around doing good, she'd molded that slightly into doing good by Harley. After all, it looked like the woman had been through a lot of misery in her life; and she really needed a friend. Luckily, she had Barbara.

Barbara flipped to her feet and swatted the hypnotic spiral from Harley's hands before the woman could blast her with it, grinning as the machine smashed against the ground.

"E-eep! I'm sorry!" Harley flinched, lifting her hands to cover her face. "Please don't send me back to Arkham!"

Barbara grinned at her friend's antics, pushing the woman's hands down slowly. "First off, don't be sorry, darlin'. You and me don't have to be that way around each other. Next up, give me one good reason why I'd send my best gal to Arkham-unless if it's to kick the crap outta your ex."

The words felt natural in her mouth, and Barbara smiled as she said them; then smiled wider as Harley beamed happily. "Gee, ya mean it?"

"I mean it." Barbara strutted to her closet purposefully, yanking out some clothes she'd been planning to wear for an undercover sting as part of the Joker's crew. It was a cute mash-up of clownish influence and practical mobility, a blue-and-white trapeze artist's outfit with a black leather jacket that held quite a few nasty surprises.

She slipped into it like she was born to wear it, savoring how Harley's eyes bulged as wide as saucers. Then Barbara pulled out a mask that was a facsimile of Nightwing's, back when he was known as Robin. She slipped it on to cover her eyes, grinning excitedly as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

It certainly wasn't any face paint, but it would do for the moment. As an afterthought, Barbara slipped on her old utility belt-though she made sure to pop off the little bat-symbol that doubled as a tracking device. Right now she didn't need any pointy-eared vigilantes snooping after her and her new bestie.

"Hey, darlin'!" Barbara called, finally dressed in an outfit perfect to both commit and fight crime in. After all, she still wanted to clean Gotham of crime, even if now her motive was to clear out the competition. "Like what you see?" She grinned roguishly to Harley, doing a light pirouette.

"Mnn, yeah. I think a girl could get used to havin' someone like you around." Harley grinned, swaying back and forth on her heels with a contented grin. She looked to Barbara happily, giggling as the girl smiled back.

"Ain't that the truth." Barbara nodded her assent. Then she blinked, tapping her lower lip thoughtfully. "Hey, hold on a minute! I can't go around calling myself 'Batgirl' anymore, can I? I mean, I don't wanna have that 'caped crusader' loomin' over me all the time."

"Well I guess that means you're in luck!" Harley chirped with delight, draping herself over Barbara's shoulder. "Because I've already thought about that. Since Harleen Quinzel so nicely becomes Harley Quinn; why don't we make Barbara Gordon into Barbie Gorl?"

"Barbie Gorl, hm?" Barbara's brow furrowed as she contemplated the name. With a nod, a smile slowly spread across her face as an enthusiasm she'd never felt in her life bloomed in her heart. She clapped giddily and giggled, glad to have a friend to share in her excitement. "I like it!"

"Grrreat!" Harley rolled the 'r' like a matador and held out an arm for her new partner-in-crime to take. "Now, let's see what we can do to make my old Puddin' pay the piper."

"Perfect." Barbie winked, her new name fitting her like a glove. She slung her arm around Harley's, and together the newly-made Terrible Troupe ventured out to the streets of Gotham.