Yeah, so, I don't own Batman or any of it's characters. Asides from Tex and Emily, I own no one from this story. Lacy owns herself. This was originally written on paper, but I thought more people would enjoy it all typed up and pretty. Reviews are appreciated!
Arkham Asylum. It wasn't so bad, if you didn't count the food, the treatment, and of course, the psychopaths. Joker, Riddler, and Harley Quinn all called the place home, or at least a home away from home. For Anne, it was hardly considered home, but she enjoyed it well enough. Quite the juicy place to crash at for a bit. Anne had arrived earlier that week, and sent straight to Intensive Treatment. They thought she was crazy, maybe it had been the chainsaw. Anne did have a fascination with them. Her doctors said that wasn't a good thing. Anne could never quite understand why. She was still getting used to her new accommodations, the restraints, all the damn rules, and the treatment. All a horrible combination that put a dent in her joy of the structure, or rather, it's inhabitants. Her breath fogged the shatter proofed glass, and she ran a hand through her dark brown hair, tracing intricate lines into the moisture with a delicate finger tip and glaring intensely at her reflection. Round, soft face and muddy eyes. She didn't look crazy. She may even have looked innocent. Her youth was an obvious feature. At only fifteen, her actions had truly shocked the city. It had all happened at that family reunion. Anne remembered a her whirling chainsaw, dancing in her hands, crimson spray staining the walls. And the screams. They had nourished her sick pleasure in such a way that one could only describe it as insane. It had been a massacre.
She had sat hours in court that night, amusing herself with tedious thoughts and petty conversations with herself. They had gotten all the evidence needed to convict of the terrible crime, even if it hadn't been obvious enough. The chainsaw, the finger prints, and her blood soaked clothes. Even Batman had shown himself at one point during the night of the trial, listening in quietly from a window. Anne had never actually seen him, but the guards whispered about it. Had it really been so terrible? She had only been having a bit of fun. She even got a nickname for herself, like the heroes. Tex! The court hadn't liked it all that much, but why should she care what they thought? At the end of it all, she had been sent to Arkham. They had said she was sick, that the doctors there would help her. Anne had never really liked doctors very much. They didn't help, they hurt, with needles and other things. If she ruled the country, there would never be doctors. Maybe that wasn't such a good thing, but it worked for her. Besides, she wasn't sick.
Anne chuckled lightly. No way. She felt just fine. And she wasn't crazy either, no matter what anyone said. Anne's thoughts swarmed. She didn't know how long she had been standing there. When her vision came back into focus, Anne caught the Riddler glaring at her from his cot. No doubt he had some grand plan in mind. She smiled at him, giving a slight wave. The hall was filled with chatter, but the scheming villain didn't seem interested in talking. He promptly ignored the gesture, leaning back to snatch a book from from a hard, wooden chair beside the lumpy cot. Boredom wormed into her head, and Anne sighed. Unlike the rest of the villains, she had no addiction. No reason to plan. No motivation to escape. All she had were delusions. She looked at Riddler again, reading his book. Where did he get his inspiration from? Duh. Riddles, of course. Maybe she should try that? Anne tried to think one up, surely it couldn't be that hard? Too hard for her, it seemed. After a few minutes, she gave up and plopped down on the floor beside the glass, lazily resting her head against the wall. Suddenly, the large, heavy doors at the end of the dark hall creaked open before noisily slamming shut, it's echo filling the entire building.
She pushed herself to her feet to once more press against the window in curiosity. Who were the guards bringing in now? The chatter suddenly died. Cell by cell. A hot tension rose, the eerie silence setting her skin crawling. It wasn't normal. Usually when a new patient arrived, they were jeered and laughed at. Anne remembered, she'd been teased too. So why the sudden quiet? It was almost like a warning to some, who quickly scooted to the back of their cells. Only a few patients in the back dared a few hushed words. Anne pressed against the glass, straining to see. She managed to catch the shadows of the group before they reached her. A cackle, shrill and wicked, rose into the air, sending unease through many of the asylum's inhabitants. The group walked past her cell, two armed guards in the front, and then came the clown. His pale face and bright lips took her by surprise, and his wicked eyes trained on her with a predatory gleam. "Ooh! A noob! Welcome to Arkham!" He greeted, his tone delighted, but Anne picked out the danger there with ease. She was even about to reply when a cold, menacing darkness fell around her. Anne gasped as Joker let loose another shrill laugh. She took a step back, if only to get a better look at the devil before her.
White, dagger sharp slits raked across her flesh, sending cold shivers down her spine at it's menacing touch. Anne had never seen a gaze quite so terrifying, as if it could tear out her very soul. She shrank back, both fascinated and fearful of the man that loomed above her. At the sight of Anne, he paused, only for a moment as if curious. He let her take in his figure, powerful and foreboding. His cloak was a magnificent obsidian, ragged and bat-like, and, enthralled, Anne couldn't look way. An odd feeling shook her frame, planting an obsession within her mind. He clearly had power. So much power. And the darkness of his form was strangely intoxicating. Batman didn't let his gaze soften for a moment as he glared, his lips forming a firm line. Now that he had allowed the girl a brief time absorb his features, he turned away, his grip on the clown painfully tight, and continued on his way down the hall. He only stopped again at Joker's cell. "Ahh, home sweet home." The clown chuckled as he was roughly shoved inside. Anne grinned cruelly. It was a welcome sight when people got pushed around, after having to deal with it most of her life.
Anne knew Batman would have to pass by again on the way out. She pressed her sweaty palms to the glass in expectation. A thrill ran through her as he finally walked by in silence. Anne gave a giggle at the unexpected feeling. "Wow! I never thought I'd ever get to see Batman before! You're even scarier in person!" She exclaimed, leaping excitedly from foot to foot. He wasn't so scary just walking past, though Anne really was hoping he'd stop, to grace her with his blood chilling gaze again. Was it possible to be addicted to fear? Was it normal? Batman gave her emotions she'd never felt before. He gave her something special. A drug. It was so unexplainable, yet so strong. Batman completely ignored her. He walked right passed without a word. Not even a fear inducing dose of bat-glare. And Anne wanted it, because oddly, the terrifying touch of his gaze sent an overwhelming sense of pleasure through her mind. Anne didn't want him to leave. She thought desperately for a moment, then decided to go with the usual parent insulting. "Hey, wait! You haven't heard the best part! About your mother getting raped by Killer Croc. But that's okay, your daddy was cheating on her with Two-Face, anyway." Anne announced.
"Naughty, naughty!" Joker's voice rang out. Batman stopped, mid step, and many of the inmates recoiled in fear. Even Scarecrow seemed disturbed as Batman responded to her stabbing words. A few of the more brazen rogues leapt excitedly to the glass, peering out with crazed grins. Batman turned slowly, his fists tightened in rage. Batman's scowl had been replaced by an angry, teeth grinding snarl. He visibly darkened in composure, slipping forward, black cape unfurled dramatically, tattered and sinister, as if stitched from strings of midnight. In nail biting silence and amazing self control, he approached. Riddler huddled close to the back wall, Anne was tempted to do the same. She hadn't expected such a strong reaction. Anne couldn't hide her triumphant grin as he glared fiercely, as if his very glare could melt the flesh from her bones. It certainly felt like it. He was a nightmare, towering and dreadful. Batman stopped close to the glass, drawing himself up to full height, looking down at her daring form to challenge her brazen words. Anne tried desperately to find her voice, but all she could manage as an answer was a pathetic, insufficient squeak. She took a few step back under his terrible gaze.
Unlike last time, there was no pleasure here. Only fear. It sickened her, his very gaze debilitating. Anne couldn't bring herself to look at him any longer. She bowed her head, subdued, to let him know the challenge was won. Maybe it had been to much. Maybe she had made a mistake. No. There was still that rush there, the warm friction inside her body as she gave into him. She still felt sick, but the fluttering feeling masked most of her former fear. After a few tight seconds of silence, his shadow passed by her with an grunt of approval at her submission, leaving Anne to stumble awkwardly to her cot, trying to decipher her feelings. Lust? For his body? For his touch? Did she enjoy being beneath him? No. That wasn't it. Not quite. Anne finally detected it. Ambition. Power rolled off his body in waves. His ability to freeze a heart in total fear. His authority to demand submission. Oh, how she wanted it. A taste of his power was all she needed. If only she could find some way to break him. To make him feel as she did, stuck in his suffocating shadow. Oh yes. The idea excited her greatly, and finally, she had found her motivation. She'd make Batman squirm.