*If you haven't read my story, "Destiny of Insanity" yet, I highly recommend doing that so this story will make more sense (hopefully). Thanks for reading!
Life could be so... funny sometimes. Who would have thought that the Batman would have actually caught me and let me live? Not even I could see that one coming, and I was pretty damn good at guessing the next player's card.
Of course, there was the boring old routine of being scooped up by the police (which was quite uncomfortable when I was hanging from that rope - really, Batman? You're just going to walk away after all we've been through? Perhaps it was bashing him repeatedly while my new pooches tried to munch on him was what threw him off...), them being so gentle with me (ha... ha ha), and hauling me off to my brand new Ha-Hacienda: Home of the Criminally Insane!
"...careful now, I'm more delicate than I look," I said in my amused tone that they grew to expect.
Give the people what they want... a show.
"Quiet, Clown," said the fat cop who had one of my arms in a vice.
"You know, you two didn't read me my rights. Isn't that against the law?" I taunted, moving along without fighting them.
No, no, no, no... This could be fun. I don't think I've been in one of these places before.
"Those are for the people," said the other idiot with a badge. "You're hardly a people, you freak."
I heard one of their little toys squawking, giving reports. I remembered hearing a quiet, "Congratulations on grabbing the clown!" from one of the fools. Oh, how those two buffoons dragging me into my new place reacted when they were praised for their supposed "bravery" of finally getting little old me.
"Aw... Stop. You're making me feel all gooey in my funny place," I replied, almost inhaling their discomfort.
It was amusing.
The bright lights burned my eyes as we entered the building, which reeked of disinfectant and drugged up lunatics. We were oh-so-humbly greeted by a security guard who looked like one of the biggest goons I'd ever seen in my life.
I could easily flip these cops and stab them with the blade in my shoe. I could take one of their little guns and just take out everyone here right now. But... this could be fun. Let's give this some time to see what happens. I could use a break - it has been awfully tiring these past few months. I'm sure the Batman will be taking a break as well.
"Good job, Roberts, James," the guard said in a voice that made me want to gut him.
The dolts in blue tipped their hats to the guard and both left, probably to go eat a dozen donuts each and prepare for the pissing contest they were going to have with the other easily-corruptible cops. What those two bumbling jackasses didn't realize was that I had control in that police station - there were people out there they didn't know about that were still being paid for them to do whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted.
Those mob fools thought I burned all the money - of course not! Why do something to an object that could get me a little farther ahead because of how greedy everyone in Gotham was? They really were simple-minded... All they cared about was money. Why?
"Come on, freak," the guard said as he grabbed my arm roughly and led me down the hallway.
"Aren't cha going to introduce yourself? Hmmm?" I asked as I felt a dozen or more eyes on me.
What'll it be first? Another cavity search?
"Officer Bolton," he said gruffly, leading me into a mid-sized room with another officer, a nurse, a shower, an examining table, and some orange clothes that seemed to call my name... First thing they did was strip my clothes off and hosed me down of my makeup, and tried to get the green out of my hair. As soon as I felt the nurse put her hands in my hair I turned around and reached for her throat automatically. The guards pulled out their guns and aimed them at my head.
"We have shoot-to-kill permission!" the other idiot, whose name I hadn't caught yet, said in a shaky voice.
Fear... My favorite scent!
I stared at them in disgust before going back to my limp-noodle position in the shower, bearing all for them to view (maybe enjoy? The one looked like he wouldn't mind having something rammed into his ass). Soon after I was instructed to quickly dry off and stand against the wall, my back to them. Then I experienced the... unpleasant ... feeling of a cavity search, which they seemed to take their time with.
Do they think they can humiliate me? Do they think this is belittling me?
"Ya know... normally there's a dinner involved first," I said after feeling like the guard's hand was in my ass for a little too long.
"Silence," the one called Bolton said.
Wait until the day comes when I silence you, gorilla.
The search was over, and they tossed some clothes at me. They told me to dress quickly while they waved their shiny handcuffs at me. I stared down at the uniform briefly - Patient 4479. Hm... I liked that.
After dressing and going through the mundane being shackled, threatened, and handled roughly routine, I was handcuffed to the table when a different nurse (I suppose the last one lost her spine in the shower drain) came in to examine me.
"I think the short one over there already did a thorough inspection," I said as I pointed at the toad who might have smelled the glove he used in my ass.
Maybe he'll use that to get himself off tonight - who knows. I don't suppose ol' Bolton there would be alright with pounding that flubbery ass.
The unnamed guard growled, glowing bright red.
"I followed protocol. You need to be assessed by a nurse before we take you to your cell."
"You guys are so accommodating here! How much will this cost me? Hm?" I asked, noticing them staring intently at my face.
Ah... the makeup. One tends to forget with the ordering and the ass-fisting.
"Silence," Bolton growled, continuing to stare at my face.
The nurse proceeded to stare closer at the scars on my face, which annoyed me endlessly.
I could take that stethoscope around her neck and choke her. With that pencil neck, it wouldn't take much to crush her windpipe.
"Say, isn't a doctor supposed to be doing this?" I asked as I tried to shift in my spot, failing due to the tight little leash they put on me.
"They're all busy right now, and this is an emergency situation. I'm almost at my PhD anyway," she said too proudly as she listened to my heart beat.
"How sweet," I mocked, smiling at her, which made her turn away from my face.
"How'd you get the scars?" she asked as she lifted up my shirt to inspect for whatever the hell she was looking for.
"Well, Sherlock... May I call you Sherlock?"
"No," she responded with an eye roll, lifting my arm and feeling along my joint.
"Anyway, that's a story for a different day," I continued. "So... What's your little plan here? Are you going to take care of me, nurse?" I asked as I licked my lips, knowing she was extremely uncomfortable.
Let's see... Nurse? Nah. Too predictable.
"You will be assigned a psychiatrist, who is being determined by Dr. Arkham right now. You will be given instructions by these officers on your days here at Arkham."
"A psychiatrist, eh? And what do I need, uh, therapy for?"
She stared at me dully, as if I just said something ridiculous. Ha.
"Alright, he's clear to take to his cell. I'll write up a report for his therapist tomorrow. I should be getting a call from Dr. Arkham soon."
"Thanks, Harriet," the toad said as they unleashed my shackles and presented me with a straitjacked.
"You've got to be kidding me," I said as my face fell.
"Cooperate or there will be consequences, Clown," said Bolton as he pushed my arms through the...bizarre device.
"Everything in life has consequence," I said as I grunted, feeling my arms burn as they were tugged into a strange "hugging" position.
"Good observation. Will you make me a balloon animal next?" the toad asked.
"I would, but I'm a little tied up right now, Toad," I said, grinning in amusement as he looked flustered.
"You will address me as Officer Jones," he said in annoyance.
"Okay, Officer Jones," my voice lowered as my gaze remained on him, making him look away.
"Alright. Move it, freak," Bolton said as he gave me a mild shove forward.
They escorted me out of the room and I felt more eyes on me again. I heard people whispering to each other, some comments on my scars - blah, blah, blah. They were so boring.
"I heard it's down to Young or Morgan now," a broad staff member whispered to someone.
"Who do you think will get him?"
"Has to be Young. She's more experienced with his type," I heard another broad respond.
Hmm... Young? Morgan? Who will end up on my list?
