Hello. This is APH TK. This story will continue. It's not a oneshot, or twoshot. I plan to make into an interesting one. I actually don't plan on slashes for my OC, sorry. You'll see why as the fic progresses. Well, if this fic goes awhile, maybe I'll put up a poll for a character to let my OC have 'hints' of romance with. I don't know. God, I sound uppity. Sorry to those reading my other story for the terribly long wait on that. I've been writing tons of little plot bunnies that all evolved into plot monsters. Mainly for this account. After all, this is the darker one. Hope you all like the story. I don't own Justice League. Batman. Any of those people, except my OC. Which in the end is derived off of something. But I can still own mine. Will wonders never cease. Please, never hesitate to give me helpful criticism. If it isn't flames, and makes sense, I promise I'll do my best to remember. Thanks, internet. See you all again.
The first time Bruce saw her, she was just yet another odd prisoner that had been added to Arkham Asylum's number. She fit in decently enough with the rest of them with her odd features, but she was on the clean side. She had that going for her, at least, that her apparent insanity or crimes hadn't led her to drawing all over herself like many of the others. He was finishing up a routine check, and passed her on his way out. And she was on her way back from the courtyard the villains often spent their three hours a day in.
She hadn't even looked at him, which was unusual for the inmates. Usually they went mad or cowered upon seeing him so close. They could've touched had either of them reached out. Normally he wouldn't have been so close to a prisoner that had no restraints other than loose-chained handcuffs, and no guards. But he had barely noticed her until they were almost passing. Which was odd, because frankly, he was always on his guard, especially in the Asylum. He turned and watched her walk back to a cell, just in case she attempted to break out, but she simply went in, and didn't come back out. The cell said '6901', and he recalled the same number on her Arkham standard dark orange jumpsuit. Of course, that made sense; there was no point in trying to go into another prisoner's cell. The security measures on going into a cell was that the prisoner's fingerprint had to be recognized. He continued to watch, still suspicious, but her cell door of bullet proof glass slid shut, slamming and locking.
He turned back around and strode out, putting her out of his mind. There wasn't much point to thinking about a prisoner that hadn't actively done anything to merit his suspicion. Who knew what she had done, but it wasn't his job to care unless she broke out or he had a special interest in her. Neither of which had happened, so he continued on his way, successfully moving onwards to think about his newest disciple, Damian. He was planning to take the boy here on his next visit, in two weeks. He visited twice a month, after all, and it was about time for him to bring the boy to see both the prisoners and the prison they were put in. He left the prison without a backwards glance, now focused on getting home without getting involved in too many fights.