Something wrong at Arkham.

Gotham City. Some called it hell, others called it home. Whatever you called it you could never deny the very key and open fact that it was the worst city in the world by far. It's sister city was a paradise compared to this.

Why was it the worst city? Well many blamed the Police and the corruption, others blamed the gangsters and the mob, some blamed their saviour Batman, but in all honesty there was only one place that truly made it hell on earth and that was the one building that overlooked the Gotham shore line from it's own little island.

Arkham Asylum.

The place was full of mystery, secrets hidden in secrets rested in the heart of insanity, the building itself was less then cheary as it stood there like an ominous shadow, constantly reminding Gotham of it's real problem; the super criminals.

But, there were a few people out there who didn't blame them, who openly tried to help them, people said they were crazy and they deserved to work at Arkham, that they deserved to be locked up with the criminals they were trying to cure of their insanity because in truth you couldn't cure someone of anything if they didn't want to be cured.

All of this was irrelevant though when a body washes up off the shore of Arkham, jumpsuit tattered and torn, the coroner establishing that the time of death was sometime in the night.

From behind the tape, the press were already there, trying to get a look at the victim, asking questions of the police all of course refused to answer unless bribed but that was how Gotham worked.

One member of the press crowd stood out from the rest, short bobbed raven black hair blowing in the wind as they observed the scene with scrutiny.

"This is the fith death this month," she muttered, more to herself then to any of her fellow companions. One answered her anyway.

"Hey maybe the nutsos have decided this is suicide month. Doing us a favour for once."

The woman slowly closed her eyes and took a calming breath before she turned to the other member of the crowd that was standing right next to her.

Jack Ryder, the press's most famous investigative reporter stood taking notes on the note pad as he looked up over at the crime scene, hardly seeming to notice or even care about the harsh gaze he was being given from the woman next to him. Sure he was the press's most famous reporter but he was also the most annoying one too, having the ability to not only tick off the press and his co-workers but the general public as well.

"What the hell is that suppose to mean, Ryder?" she growled out as she glared at him.

He took a glance up at her and raised an eyebrow from behind his glasses. "It means Terry, that the more of these guys off themselves, the less they'll be to cause problems for Gotham. I'm not complaining about that. Besides," he went back to writing on the note book. "Who cares about a few psychos offing themselves?"

"I care," she bit out before she turned back to the crime scene. "There's something just not right about this, I can feel it."

Jack looked back at the Cleopatra-esque woman next to him and he shook his head. "You have too much empathy for those psychopaths. Ya know the Joker put a gun to my head once?"

"Pity he didn't pull the trigger he would of been doing the world a favour," she muttered before she walked up to a police officer and tapped him on the shoulder, Jack followed her even after the comment.

"Excuse me Officer, Mist Terry, Gotham Gazzet. Do you believe there was any fowl play involved in this death?"

The police officer rolled his eyes. "Not with this one, clear as day. Jumped off dead man's point poor sod."

"Are you sure? This is the fith death this month. Could there not be a serial killer among the staff or one of the patients themselves who is in fact throwing these people off the famed suicide point in Arkham?"

"Look lady, I'm just here to guard the crime scene. So if you would kindly back away from said crime scene that would be great."

"Do you or do you not believe there is any suspicious activity going on here?"

"No, there is nothing suspicious about this death. He just committed harry carry. End of story, now please back off or I will be forced to remove you from the area."

Mist narrowed her eyes before she turned on her heel and stormed away from the scene, Jack shook his head as he followed her towards his car.

"You honestly believe there's something going on at Arkham?"

"You're the conspiracy theorist, surely even you have noticed something odd about the sudden rise in suicides here, there were three other deaths last month in one week alone."

"Mist, even if there is something strange or suspicious going on here, who cares? These people have had their chance they decided to kill people, if someone is killing them, quite frankly they're doing the world and Gotham a favour. Just wish they'd move to some of the bigger rogues, ya know what I mean? Take care of Scarecrow, Joker or hey Killer Croc," he opened the driver's door and got in the car, starting up the engine as he waited for Mist to get in.

She rolled her eyes in response. "That still doesn't make it right," she insisted as she slipped in next to him. "You can't kill people who kill. If a man kills a killer, there is still the same number of killers in the world, it doesn't change and who's to say this man is going to just stick with Arkham inmates? He may move on to people in Gotham."

"I doubt it," Jack commented as he started the car and pulled away from the scene. "I honestly don't know why John wanted us to come out here, no one cares about a nut job killing himself. It just doesn't make good press."

He glanced out of the corner of his eyes to see Mist was looking out the window a thinking look to her face.

"Oh come on, Mist," Jack shook his head. "You honestly think there's some conspiracy going on at Arkham?"

"There's obviously something going on there, Jack and it's not good," she turned back to him and pushed a strand of hair out of her face. "Even you have to admit that the amount of suicides recently has increased and it's very strange, right?"

"I don't know Terry," he waved his hand out in confusion. "For all we know they might all suddenly be growing a conscious."

"Really? That's your idea?"

"I don't know."

"There's something going on there," Mist turned back to the window and looked out at the docks, the ships passing through the harbour. Many of them would be carrying illegal products as well as legal ones. Guns, drugs, explosives, slaves. It was all the same.

"Just think," she spoke aloud still facing the window as she talked. "If there is something illegal going on in Arkham… it would make one hell of a story."

Jack glanced in her direction as she still continued to stare out at the docks. He frowned before bitting his lip and then sighing. "Suppose, I'm interested… what's in it for me?"

"Well, if there's nothing going on, you get to gloat at me about it, which lets be honest is one of your favourite things to do, but on the flip side if there is something going on, it will be the biggest scandal to hit Gotham since that Christmas Day thing with the Mayor that was given to the press by an anonymous intel."

"Oh my god… Mist!" he glared at her slightly. "You know I can't resist a possible scandal. That's just not fair."

"Fine you don't have to investigate it, you can just report it and get all the glory for it."

"Alright, deal. But how do you plan on getting into that place in the first place?"

A slow but deliberate smile spread across her lips as she turned back to the road and Ryder could only stare on in horror.

"Oh no… I know that look Terry. You get dangerous and do dangerous things when you give that look."

"Danger is part of the job, Jack."

"You think I'm not aware of that?" he pointed at his temple, his hand in the shape of a gun. "Gun to the head with a psycho holding the trigger, remember?"

"Yes, I believe you mentioned it before," Mist muttered as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and began to text.

"You're a real piece of work, ya know that Terry?"

"You may have also mentioned that once or twice too. Just with different adjectives."

"Ooohh… you're in one of those moods," he sighed and shook his head before slowly the car to a stop at the traffic lights. "I don't get you sometimes, Terry. You're like a damn riddle that never seems to end."

She froze in place. "What did you just say?" she whispered, still looking at her phone, her hand starting to shake.

"I said you're like a riddle sometimes," Jack commented again. "When I think I know you, I then don't," he turned to her and frowned. "Can't you make up your mind on who you're going to be and be done with it? The way your mind works, its like your sometimes two completely different people."

She glared at him harshly. "I am one whole person, Jack. One who is perfectly capable of taking you down right here, right now."

"Whoa, calm down!" he held his hands up in defence before he turned back to the car. "Jesus. You would of thought I'd really insulted you or something."

"You did really insult me, you suggested that I may have a mental disorder known as split personality."

"It was just a figure of speech, you're a writer you should know that."

She was silent for a moment before she blinked and smiled. "Yeah maybe you're right. Say do you think we could stop off and get some lunch I am hungry and unhealthy food is calling me to it's general location."

Jack blinked before he shook his head and started away from the traffic lights. "Like I said, two different people," he muttered not catching the death glare he was being given but she calmed herself and went back to her text.

"Another gone like that," mused a man from behind prison bars, his fingers in a steeple as he lay across his bed staring at the ceiling. "One feels unsafe in this ungodly place."

"You say that as if scaring you is a hard feat to accomplish. I can tell you from past experience it's not."

Glancing over the top of his steepled fingers, the man glanced at his cell mate who was reading and looked hardly interested in the rest of the world around him, not like that was any different.

Arkham's cells had recently had to have a dramatic change, with many of it's inmates now forced to share a cell, simply because of the increase in super criminals over the recent years.

So thus, inmates were placed in cells together to deal with each other and their antics, no matter how much they didn't want it.

"Funny," the man bit out as he sat up and glared. "But even you must be a little nervous about our current situation."

"Hardly and I feel insulted that you would suggest such a thing Edward."

Edward Nigma, more commonly known as the Riddler outside and indeed inside Arkham's walls only seemed to get more angry with each passing second at his cell mate, who happened to be the infamous Doctor, yes that bit was always important in his title, Jonathan Crane or Scarecrow to everyone else with half a brain that scared easily.

"And why should we not be worried? It is quite obvious that something is going on here that endangers our lives and the lives of our fellow rogues, not that I can say I'm that worried about them."

"You shouldn't. And you shouldn't worry about yourself either," Jonathan commented as he slowly folded the corner on the page he was reading and closed the book, sliding it under his bed as he looked back at Edward. "Whoever is doing this is only targeting the lesser known rogues. Simple criminals with sadistic tendencies and classic psychological disturbance of a want to be serial killer."

"He his targeting the lesser known because he knows an investigation will be created but, no one will care because the victim is a nobody."

"Quite like how clearers hunt. They target the people who are already forgotten; prostitutes, the homeless, drug dealers, pimps, street brats and so on. Easy targets who no one cares about. The same thing is going on here," he pulled off his glasses and began to clean them with the corner of his jumpsuit. "As worrying as it is that someone is targeting us behind these walls, people like you and me with a reputation to our names are safe because we'd attracted far too much attention if we were suddenly disposed of."

"I still don't like it. Also, why hasn't… he come here yet?"

Jonathan glanced up at him from his task of cleaning his glasses and observed his companion with a scrutinising gaze before he glanced to the side and seemed to contemplate it. "You raise a good point."

Edward nodded his head and suddenly stood, beginning to pace the room, hands clasped firmly behind his back as he began to walk back and forth. "You and I know him well enough to know he values all human life. He has saved our own lives countless times despite knowing what we will do after he does so and yet he has yet to make an appearance here."

Jonathan rubbed at his eyes before he replaced his glasses to his face and looked back at Edward who had stopped in his pacing and was now staring out of his cell, the bars casting shadows across the wall and their jumpsuits, creating a tiger like pattern on them as the early morning sun came through the bars and the windows, staining the ward they were on a deep orange, which was slowly turning into a deep gold as the sun rose higher.

He glanced down at his companions fingers and noticed the small flecks of green paint that decorated the finger tips in inconsistent places, a clear indicator of someone trying to hide the fact they had used paint at all.

"You've been writing your riddles on the walls again haven't you? The Doctors and Guards won't like that and the Warden will especially not like that."

Edward glanced behind him and frowned before he brought his attention back to the hall. "As much as you taking an interest in my work and well being-."

"It was not an interest it was an observation. There is a difference."

"-We have more pressing matters to concern ourselves with," he glanced behind him again at Jonathan staring at the amber set of eyes that were staring back at him. They used to be a cold and icy blue but after years of using his toxin on himself and others, it seemed that certain aspects of Jonathan's appearance began to change, the most notable was his eyes. Edward looked the older man up and down before he met his face again which held a bored expression on the almost non emotional face. "Could you possibly speed up your manipulation of the Doctor a little quicker?"

"Psychological mind control takes a long time to do and do well Edward," Jonathan commented as he folded his legs up and sat crosslegged on his bed. "I thought a profectionist such as yourself would know such a thing."

"Fair enough," he looked back at the corridor. "I shall see if there is any gossip to be shared, you know Harley. As unintelligent as the woman is, she does know a lot in Arkham."

"Harleen is actually a remarkably intelligent woman," Jonathan commented as he observed Edward with a scrutinising gaze once again. "She has everyone in Arkham believing she is stupid. True, the child maybe incompetent when it comes to terms with the Joker, but even you have to admit that when she's not with him she is actually a smart woman. She has to be smart if she has survived living with the Joker for as long as she has and not been killed where many who would be considered smarter have not been so lucky."

"Regardless of her intelligence existing or not, Jonathan," Edward turned and smirked. "She knows things and she will tell me."

"And you're sure of this because?"

"I have leverage."

"Please do not tell me Joker is your leverage. That would be awful."

"Of course not! I hate that damn clown and I certainly hate what he does and how he treats Harley. Idiot or no, she is one of the nicest people I have ever met and she is very nice to me so I despise what that clown does to her."

"Then what exactly is it?"

"I managed to swipe some poptarts from the Guard's fridge. Harley will do anything for poptarts."

Jonathan laughed slightly. "Indeed. I am surprised Harley would go so cheap, you might wish to add some oreos to the mix, Edward. She does like those and you may find she will give you extra information for it."

Edward smiled before he stepped away from the bars and a small frown instantly took his features. "What about Isley."

"Pamela?" Scarecrow looked baffled. "Why on earth would you want to talk to her?! That vile creature has no interest in saving humans."

"She may know something, you know about how she has her Doctor wrapped around her littler finger right?" Edward waved his own little finger to make a point.

"Everyone in Arkham that isn't a member of staff knows, Edward. I do not see what you're getting at?"

"Well if he knows something about the deaths then he will tell her."

"I believe his thoughts may be too jumbled up to be able to pay attention to what ever else may be going on at this current moment in time."

"Yeah.. Ivy's spores do that I suppose."

"You would know Edward."

Edward looked indignant. "Just because she has taken control of my mind a few times does not make me-."

"Quiet. Guards are coming."

Edward blinked before he leaned against the cell wall and Jonathan walked back to his bed, sitting on it and pulling the book out from underneath it.

"You hear about this morning?"

"Oh yeah man, another one! Wonder what's gotten into these nutsos huh?"

The two guards walked down the corridor. Officer Thomas was the bigger of the two, he was also the older, more experienced. The smaller and younger one was a new Officer, only just signed up that month but even he realised that what was going on was odd. Especially for Arkham's inhabitance who's general population mostly contained God complexes and narcissism, the sudden rise in suicides for an Asylum full of people like that was odd and suspicious.

"You think there's someone out there trying to kill them all?"

"How the hell should I know?"

"You think Strange has something to do with it?"

Edward's head shot up and he quickly turned to look at Jonathan who also caused a glance to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Look, you're new and I get that," Officer Thomas spoke as he turned to the new recruit. "But if you go speaking bad about the higher ups… it doesn't end well for people like me and you. Folk get into trouble if they say things that aren't supposed to be said, especially in Arkham."

"What's that supposed to mean?" the newby hissed at his partner.

Thomas got up close to his face. "Why'd you think there was a job offering in the first place?" he snarled. "People think that the corruption and double dealings and back stabbing has gone ever since Batman came along, well it's a nice little lie the Police like to keep going around so it doesn't turn into chaos out there."

"What about the patients? Won't they tell someone?"

"And who do you know in Gotham that would listen to a bunch of crazies over an elected official."

"You don't get out enough do you man, because most of Gotham thinks like that."

Thomas sighed and turned away from the new kid. "Just keep your head down, mouth shut and do your job. Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies."

"And if another inmate gets killed?"

"Then another inmate gets killed! Now shut up. We got another corridor to do."

The two wandered off and Edward followed them with his eyes as he walked up to the bars, Jonathan following behind him as they stared after the two guards, the conversation ringing in their ears.

"I told you," Edward hissed as he continued to stare out after them. "There's something going on in Arkham and what a surprise it involves Hugo Strange."

"As much as it pains me to say this, I believe for our own sake we should do what Officer Thomas suggest, keep quiet and keep our heads down."

"No," Edward smirked. "We need the others for this, besides what would you like to bet it's all going to go to hell as soon as Joker gets back here."

"Speaking of, I have to inform you I will be breaking out tonight, the cell is yours to keep. You will be in a session at the time. Do make sure you look after my book for me and please don't move the place like you did last time, that was inconvenient."

Edward grinned. "I'll try. I'm staying here anyway, this little mystery is too much to pass up on."

Jonathan shook his head. "One day Edward, one day one of your 'little mysteries' as you put it, is going to get you hurt."

The grin fell off his face and a cold look fell across Edward's features as his cellmate sat down on his bed again. "Oh my dear friend," Edward whispered as he closed his eyes before opening them again, the blue harsh and cold. "One already did."

T.B.C:

Note: Okay... So I was going through my stories and my Sphinx one I was just not happy with at all, it was not what I wanted and I knew I could do better so I have since re-writen it. This is it here and now, re-written and re-done, well at least the first chapters. Updates... I don't know, they hopefully won't be slow, but they may be since on Arkham Life I have a lot of requests to catch up with.

Speaking of Arkham Life, it is still running, I haven't been active with it because I recently had college exams so I was revising and I had bridging to do so I have been very busy these past few months and I appologise for how long its take to update that particular set of stories, but the next chapter should be up very soon, that I can assure you.

I hope you guys enjoy this story, let me know what you think of it and I am open to suggestions or any advice that would help me with my writing but no flame thank you people. Flame just doesn't help anyone and all it does is waste your time and waste my time too, so don't bother with it thanks.

Enjoy this story, love all you guys! :D