Summary: While Dr. Crane attends a week long workshop and seminar, a new inmate arrives at Arkham and forms a small gang within the asylum. Dr. Crane is not pleased when he gets back. (Takes place before Bruce comes back)

Disclaimer: It's called fanfiction for a reason.

Crane's Asylum

"I order that Mr. Richard Jones be transferred to Arkham Asylum for the time being for his own safety. When Dr. Crane comes back, I'll get his assessment and we shall see. Court's adjourned."

And to Rachel Dawes's disgust, the judge loudly banged that damned gavel. Even when Dr. Crane wasn't here, he seemed of having a way of slipping criminals past bars and into therapy. Who knows? Maybe she'll get lucky and Rick (he was annoyingly insistent on being called Rick) will decide that the mad house isn't for him. She eyed Rick's father, the one who insisted that Rick belongs in therapy and not jail. He eyed her back.

Maybe today is not her lucky day after all.

&&&&

Lunchtime. It's day one for Rick Jones in Arkham Asylum, and he has to say that the place is a bit too cheery for an asylum. He knew that the doctor (what was his name? Craig?) was away and that that was the main reason why he was here. He had heard that the doctor could read through anyone, mental or normal. It was kind of creepy, he thought, and perhaps that's why some of the inmates were really happy. Other than the fact that they're crazy of course.

Whoah. He's been here too long already. He's already musing. Shaking his head, he waited in line for lunch behind plenty of crazies.

After getting his lunch, he scanned the room. No empty lunch tables. It's weird, actually. Like high school all over again. But nonetheless, being the 'polite' man that he was, he forced his way to an already full table and made a seat for himself. The occupants (all of them unattractive, Rick notes) looked at him, completely confused.

"Hello, crazies," said Rick, "Don't mind if a normal person sits here, do ya?"

There was a general mumblings of no one minding.

"Great!" exclaimed Rick.

The four other occupants continued to stare, silently, as if Rick were some sort of strange alien from space.

"So," asked Rick, oblivious to the staring, "What do you guys do? I mean, besides see the doctor."

No response.

"Nothing? Do you have free time?"

The group again mumbled, but Rick heard a something like "sometimes."

"So, what do you do?"

Finally, one of the group spoke up, an overweight man with badly cut hair. "Um, sometimes we watch TV, and sometimes we do our exercises."

"Yes," said another man, an older man who spoke with a wheeze. "Dr. Crane said the exercise is good for us."

Dr. Crane! That's the name! "Well, Dr. Crane isn't here right now," said Rick.

Even Rick felt the waves of relief at the table when he made that statement. "You guys don't like him?"

No one answered. Rick sighed, "What I meant is that since he isn't here, we can do whatever we want."

"You do whatever you want," wheezed the older man, "I'm going to listen to Dr. Crane and do my exercises."

"What Dr. Crane doesn't know, doesn't hurt him."

"Is it true?" asked one of the occupants who had been silent. He looked the most normal, but Rick saw a strange glint in his brown eye. "Are you normal?"

"Yes."

The table gasped and shuddered.

"Why? You got something against normal people?"

"You should leave," said the normal-looking one, "And go to prison. It's better there."

"Really?" asked Rick sarcastically.

The one who had not said anything nodded vigorously.

"What do you know?" shot back Rick.

"Um, normal guy?" said the overweight one, "Tom's mute."

Sure enough, Tom smiled a holey smile, gesturing to himself. Rick suddenly felt frustrated. He had come to the table with one goal in mind: to form a gang and self proclaim himself as leader. But, working with crazy people wasn't as easy as he thought. So, with much pondering and contemplating on Rick's part, Rick came up with an idea to at least get themselves acquainted.

"Okay, I've got an idea. We'll go around the table and everyone says their name and what they're in here for."

Nope, Rick is not the brightest bulb out there.

"Well," said the fatter man, "My name's Brad and I'm a manic."

"A manic? How come you're not…manicky?"

Brad laughed at the new word. "Lucky for maniacs, mania is not year-round. It comes and goes, like mood swings."

Rick nodded and turned his head toward the older man. "My name's Steve, and I've got obsessive compulsive disorder."

Rick took a closer look at Steve, and saw that he was a neat freak. Neater than Rick's own mother.

"It's getting better," said Steve, aware that he was under Rick's scrutiny.

"I'm James and I'm depressed," said the most normal one.

"You don't look depressed," pointed out Rick.

"I'm suicidal and I can't sleep," said James.

Brad leaned closer to Rick, "Usually depressed people don't eat or sleep that much." Rick eyed the plate of untouched food and gave him a nod.

"What about Tom?"

"Actually," said James, "I just lie a lot. Um, a pathological liar."

Rick looked to Brad who simply explained, "I like to go along with it. Especially when talking to the schizos during group therapy." Brad laughed. "They believe him every time. Oh, and Tom? No one really knows what's up with him. He doesn't say much. But I think Dr. Crane knows what's up with him."

"Hmm, I'll have to ask," said Rick.

"You never said your name," said Steve, sounding slightly upset.

"Oh, I'm Rick and I'm completely normal. My father and I decided it was best to not go to prison and so my father worked out a deal with asylum and the judge. I'm supposed to stay here until Dr. Crane gives me his official diagnosis."

"That's crazy," said Brad.

"No, it's genius. Places might be unwilling to hire someone who committed a felony, but it is against the law to discriminate based on disability. Well, that's what my dad says."

"What did you do?" asked James.

Rick smiled. "That's for another day."

"So," asked Brad, "What's your big plan for when Dr. Crane's away? What do you want to do?"

"I say," said Rick, "Let's party."

&&&&

It had been remarkably easy to get that table group to follow his lead (well, Steve was harder but that was probably because he depended on Dr. Crane's schedule more so than the rest of them), and he had gotten some other followers as well. Many of his lackeys were literally retarded, but it didn't matter to Rick. He was having too much fun getting away with things that he was certain would land him in solitary confinement in prison. Since Dr. Crane apparently had the final say of who was sent to solitary confinement and other sorts of punishment, and since Dr. Crane wasn't here right now, he could get away with murder, so to speak, in front of the guards' faces and they couldn't do a thing about it.

By his fourth day, Rick had started picking out the weaker inmates of Arkham and they became his source of entertainment.

On day five, he had a gang of fifteen.

Something different happened on day six.

Author's Comments: Sorry, I sped things up at the end; I just wanted this chapter to end so I could get to the next chapter. I hope this wasn't too boring for you, but I promise next chapter will be awesome! Rick will be there and his daddy and did I mention Dr. Crane as well?

Please review! It motivates me!