"In the era of metahuman criminals, Arkham Asylum has had to use a large sum of its funding to renovate the old facility. We expect that these new and improved security measures will protect our patients and staff alike, especially since some of our patients are among the most dangerous, criminally insane this city has ever seen." Dr. Arkham carefully trotted up the steps, to the double door entrance of the asylum. "Today I'm going to have a lot on my plate, since the patients are being moved back in. You'll be a great help with me." He smiled warmly, then he opened the doors and stood there for a moment, taking in the new view. It looked truly spectacular. Not only had they installed a bunch of new security features, but they had also renovated the asylum into a state of the art facility to treat the mentally ill. At least, that's what the brochures said now.
"Where were the patients placed while the renovations took place?" I asked Dr. Arkham. We walked toward his office as we spoke, "Some of them were placed in the psychiatric hospital in Metropolis and others had to go to Blackgate Penitentiary, since nobody else would take them." I remembered hearing on the news that the asylum hadn't disclosed where specific patients were being taken and that they were all moved very discreetly. "Are all of them being moved back today?" I wondered. "Not all of them, only the ones in Blackgate. They're considered to be the most dangerous and we need to bring them back here as soon as possible to resume treatment. The others are being treated by most of my staff in Metropolis. We didn't want the renovation to interfere with their treatment." He explained as we stepped into his office. The door was labeled: Dr. Jeremiah Arkham PhD.
He noticed me looking at the sign and chuckled, "One day your name will be printed on your office door too, but for now, we've got some serious business to attend to." We stepped into the large, pristine office that had been minimally furnished. Everything was white, metallic, and minimalistic. The room smelled of new furniture and fresh paint. Dr. Arkham opened a window to let the fumes escape and motioned for me to sit on one of the white, faux-leather chairs in front of his desk. I noticed his office had a marvelous view of the property and the front gates. Surely, he'd be able to know who went out and who came in at all times. "I haven't had a chance to get my things from my old office yet, but you should expect a cluttered mess next time you walk into this room." He snorted. "By the way, we'll be sharing this office for a year, so I suggest you get comfortable. I'll have a second desk brought in for you." He rummaged through a white filing cabinet that sat in the far right corner of the room and took out a tall stack of files.
He sat at his desk and started looking through the various files with names and numbers printed on them. "As I mentioned before, most of my staff is in Metropolis and they won't be back until tomorrow. Under normal circumstances, interns usually help with paperwork, filing, and they will shadow me or another doctor for a period of time before moving on to more serious work, but today you will be getting to the good stuff right away." He handed me three patient files with different names on them and waited to see my reaction. Edward Nigma, Floyd Lawton, and Victor Zsasz were all neatly printed in bold on the side of each file. I felt my body tremble ever so slightly as I read each name. I knew when I got the internship at Arkham Asylum that I'd be in the same building as these criminals, but I never thought I would really be working with them. I thought I'd do some meaningless work under the supervision of Dr. Arkham and that, after a year, I would move on to work in another hospital with his seal of approval. In truth, I regarded most of the patients in this place as incurable. I felt guilty for thinking like this, but most of them were simply too far gone to be reformed and accepted back into society. I didn't want to work in a place like this for a long time. It was merely a stepping stone to where I really wanted to be and that was helping people that actually needed it.
I glanced up from the files and cleared my throat, "What will my responsibilities be to these patients?" I asked. Dr. Arkham regarded me with curiosity before replying, "Read their files and become familiar with each case. Armed guards will be escorting them back today and you will oversee their transfer and handle their medication. We're severely understaffed this week and I completely understand if you're not up for the challenge. Most interns never even get close to these types of patients." He had an apologetic look on his face and, for a second, I considered handing him back the files and leaving, but I cast off that thought immediately. Handling this task would get me on his good side and it would look fantastic on my resume if I could say I successfully worked with some of the most criminally insane patients in Arkham. Besides, I hadn't worked my ass off at the university to give up the first day of my internship.
I smiled calmly and stood up, "I will not disappoint you, Dr. Arkham," and shook his hand. He seemed both excited and terrified at my willingness to undertake this assignment. I knew myself, though, and I always strive to succeed in every aspect of my life. I had graduated from Gotham University with a perfect GPA and had the best scores in all my exams. I was a model student and I would be a model doctor, now, too. If I was going to get anywhere as a psychiatrist, I had to take my internship seriously and do my best. "I am very pleased by your attitude, doctor. If you need anything, please don't hesitate to ask. I, myself, will be handling another three patients from Blackgate and they're probably the most intimidating of the bunch. After you work with them for some time, though, they don't seem so frightening." He had a far-off look as he said the last sentence and seemed to be lost in thought for a minute before he snapped back.
"I'm sure most doctors feel the same way when they're as experienced as you are, sir." I observed. He smirked and stood up as we saw a black van with tinted windows approaching the facility. "There they are," he sighed, "Don't worry, those are my patients. Yours will arrive in the late afternoon. In the meantime, stay in here and go over those files. There's some useful information in there that you'll need." He patted my shoulder and marched off, down the corridor. I heard his footsteps reach the elevator and heard the ding as it reached our floor. I stood in front of the window until I saw him standing outside in front of the van. A couple of large, burly men stepped out and Dr. Arkham signed some papers they gave him.
The three of them went around the side of the van and opened the door. They pulled out a man in a strait jacket who couldn't seem to stand on his own. Whoever it was, they were probably too drugged to understand what was going on, much less stand up and walk properly. As they dragged him back around the side of the van, I noticed a mess of green hair obscuring the man's face. My heart did a somersault in my chest as I realized who it was. "The Joker…" I whispered in disbelief. Out of all the criminals in Gotham, he was the one I considered the most terrifying. I'd heard all sorts of sick stories about him and the things he did to innocent people. I had prayed many times that I didn't run into him on the subway at night or at a random bus stop.
He was an unpredictable evil that could not be reasoned with and he seemed to exist only to cause more chaos in an already tumultuous world. Dr. Arkham led the way as the guards dragged him inside. Suddenly, my legs felt weak and I stumbled across away from the window to sit down. The room was spinning around me and I tried to catch my breath. You need to calm down and act professional! You can't be having an anxiety attack at work! I closed my eyes and steadied myself, trying to think calming thoughts. I took a few deep breaths and opened my eyes again. Looking around the room, I tried to imagine how it would look when my desk was in here as well.
That's it, you got it. Think of something else. After a couple of minutes, I was able to steady my breathing, but still felt light-headed. I peered down the corridor through the open door and the elevator made another ding and stopped on my floor. I gasped quietly and averted my gaze as the doors opened smoothly. I forced my attention down to Edward Nigma's file and tried to focus on the words on the document as I heard their footsteps approaching. "Right this way," said Dr. Arkham as his voice drifted through the corridor. The office door was wide open as they passed by, dragging the half-conscious Joker down the corridor.
It seemed to happen in slow motion. I lifted my gaze from the paper and The Joker simultaneously lifted his head in my direction. He smiled weakly at first, like a shy acquaintance who meets your gaze accidentally, and it sent a shiver down my spine. Then, suddenly, he threw his head back in outrageous laughter as if someone had told him the funniest joke he'd ever heard. His laugh boomed through the hallway as they dragged him to his room. Neither the guards nor Dr. Arkham seemed to be bothered by this. In fact, they acted as if they hadn't even noticed his laughter at all. But his little smile stayed burned into my mind. For that single split second, he had looked almost sane. Almost.