PLEASE READ THE AUTHOR'S NOTE BEFORE CONTINUING DOWN TO READ!
AUTHORS NOTE: After reading a bunch of fan fictions based on the villains of Batman from the comics, cartoons, as well as the video game Arkham Asylum, I decided to try a crack at writing my own fan fiction. However, my mind began to spin a wonderfully wild tale on its own. Mostly, involving men, or women, who would balance out our criminals. Never quite curing their insanity, but helping stabilize them.
This is not intended to be a Mary-Sue, but I fear it might come out that way.
Each villain of my choosing will have their own story. Each man or woman unique in their own way for helping these criminally insane.
I accept constructive criticism, but will not accept flames because you did not read this warning and flip out on me.
If you can get past all of that, please feel free to read and enjoy. Review are always welcomed and loved.
Chapter 1
Sorrel Birch had been instated into Warden of Arkham Asylum easily.
He had been trained to lead the asylum gone prison easily, as well as handle a certain patient. He breathed shallowly through his mouth to avoid breathing in the smell of sweat, blood, urine, and a multitude of other smells that sickened him. He twitched his nose and stopped in the hall, awaiting for the good Doctor Gretchen Whistler to meet him and take him to an interview room set up for him and Poison Ivy.
A smirk etched its way onto his face, and his green eyes sparkled, as he imagined the interview going down. What no one on the island knew. . .yet, was that he had been molded for this reason, and this reason alone. He was to be her doctor, talk to her, befriend her, love her. . .never cure. There was no cure for most of these criminals. The last three years of his life had been a living hell, and all for this. The tests, experiments, training; it all came down to this moment. It would be known if he could do this or not. Withstand Poison Ivy and get an upper hand on her.
Months of preparation on the island itself. He had tirelessly won over every plant on the island. In her weakened state, Poison Ivy had yet to even notice that her 'pets' had gone over to a new master. When she did, she would be furious, but be able to do nothing about it.
His ability with plants was to surpass hers. He was to be unaffected by her pheromones, toxins, and kiss. In return, his was suppose to be worse.
He gritted his teeth as the smirk slid from his face. If Poison Ivy rejected him, for all time, then he was doomed a lonely life. Everything that had been done to him made him just as deadly as her. Only he wasn't crazed. He knew that people would always destroy the life of plants. However, plants would always come back. Maybe not to the fullest form that they were, but there they would be. The weeds growing in the cracks of old sidewalks was enough proof of that.
"Dr. Birch."
He turned, his long dark brown braid swinging behind him as he turned to face Dr. Gretchen Whistler.
"I think you are crazy to do this, Warden Birch." She said, her lips pursed. "We made the decision to not let Pamela Isley have any more male doctors, as she is deadly to them."
Sorrel schooled his features and smiled at her. "I think you'll find that I am immune to her, so-called charms."
Dr. Whistler's face pinched more in her displeasure as she took in the small potted plant he held in his hand.
"I think we also need to talk about all these new doctors you are bringing in. One per patient is a little extreme, I think. We have enough doctors to split between all these patients and-"
"And I said, that we will be bringing in these new doctors. A meeting later this week will shed light onto what I have planned for this asylum. I'm not here to sit in fear of these criminals, nor will I allow them to run this place like Warden Sharp seemed too. Now, I believe I have a patient to introduce myself too." Sorrel smoothed his face from the sharp anger he had felt at the woman's repeated arguments into that of his smooth self again.
"This way, Warden Birch." She said, motioning from the way she had came.
As they walked down the hallway, she kept glancing back at him, obviously wanting to say something. If he had to guess, it was about the way he said the interview would be taking place.
"Speak your mind Doctor, lest you bust into the interview room and ruin all I am working for." He cut into the silence smoothly, but irritated Dr. Whistler none-the-less.
"You are a very good looking man, Warden Birch. Easy prey for someone like Pamela Isley, so I must insist to know why you are going to interview her alone, without a guard outside the door, or any restraints on her. Not only that, you have issued orders that short of a prison break, that you will not be disturbed during this interview. Why?" Dr. Whistler raddled on.
Sorrel smirked as he stepped up to the glass where he could see Poison Ivy sitting in the interview room. She, however, could not see him. "You will see during this interview. No matter what Pamela Isley does, do not interrupt. If she kisses me, don't think anything of it. She cannot control me, and, before you cut in, know that I am serious. Interrupt me, and you'll be out of a job. See if you'll have any luck getting a new one. Or maybe I'll assign you to Killer Croc for the rest of the time while we wait for his new doctor to get here."
Dr. Whistler turned sharply on her heel and marched into the room across from the interview room and slammed the door sharply. Everything was going to be recorded and monitored. No guards were anywhere in sight, and would only come when he told them too.
"Bitch." He muttered. He may have been groomed to be the perfect Warden for everyone, but it didn't mean that he was completely cultured and refined.
Sorrel cracked his neck, and still winced at how it sounded more like a branch breaking than it did a simple popping of bones. That was what happened when your body's chemistry and DNA was rewritten though, he supposed.
He walked into the interview room and watched as Poison Ivy practically brightened at the sight of the plant, but managed not to jump up and snag it from him.
"Hello. My name is Sorrel Birch, I have been personally assigned to you, as well as my duties as the Warden of Arkham Asylum." He watched the calculations start behind her eyes. She was thinking that getting him under her control meant a strong leg up. She thought wrong. "Should I call you Pamela Isley, or Poison Ivy?"
"Poison Ivy." She cooed. "Or just Ivy. Did you bring that for me, Sorrel?" She motioned toward the plant he had setting beside him.
He gently slid it across the table into her waiting hands and watched as her hands fluttered around it as she checked on it, and talked to it.
"You have a wonderful way of taking care of plants, Sorrel. This one is in love with you already. Doesn't love its mommy." She sighed, almost regretfully.
"So it's a daddy's girl. Mommy shouldn't be jealous." He said, pulling out a notepad and making a few notes.
His words seemed to anger her slightly, but like him, she schooled her features into something pleasant. Innocent. Nothing like being a wolf in sheep's clothing. Or looking like a walking herb garden, in her case.
"Are you here to figure out why I do the things that I do, Sorrel? Are you going to cure me?" Poison Ivy cooed at him, gently running her finger over the leaf of the plant.
"Cure? No. I can't cure you, Ivy. You are what you are, because someone made you that way. What they did to you, shaped you into what you are. Being able to hear the plants has caused you to react in a. . .mother bear type way. You want to protect all the children you suddenly have under your wing. No one can blame you for that." He told her, looking up from his notes.
"You understand then! While everyone needs to die!" She said, leaning forward, placing a hand on his own. Her pheromones cloyed the air with their smell and he made a show of breathing them in deeply.
"No, Ivy, I don't. Before you were Poison Ivy, you were human, just like all the people you tried to kill. You suddenly look at eating plants, are even picking cotton as some kind of crime. You used to wear that cotton, you are even now, in that prisoner shirt. You used to eat those plants, and even meat. So, I think your jump is a little psychotic."
Again, anger flashed behind her eyes. "I evolved into something better." She hissed softly.
"And yet humans are still at the top of the food chain. You might be a pretty and deadly plant, but a plant none-the-less." He said, pointing toward her slightly with his pen.
She latched onto his compliment though, as he knew she would.
"You think I'm pretty?" She asked, her eye lashes fluttering slight.
"I would go as far to say, beautiful. No woman could ever compare. But of course, you know this, surely." He oozed charm, and he knew that she felt like her pheromones were finally starting to take a hold on him.
"You know, Sorrel, I like your name. It's a plant, you know. Even your last name, Birch, like a tree. Strong, unwavering, sturdy." As each word fell from her lip, she leaned over the table and closer to him. Her lips parted slightly.
One peck on the lips had enthralled many, and even killed.
He would be damned if she got away with a peck. He needed to establish here and now that she was the weak one in the room. Show that annoying Dr. Whistler that he was here for a reason, and that he wasn't insane like the doctor's whispered behind his back.
Her lips touched his, and he grabbed her, his tongue plundering her mouth.
As she let out muffled cries and tried to get away from him, he basked in it. She was confused, angry even, and no one was busting into the room.
Finally, he released her and shoved her back. She slammed into her chair, nearly tipping it over.
Shock was etched into her face as she watched her toxin slip into his veins and disappear.
"Surprise, and no, you can't control me. However. . ." He smirked when she clutched at her throat, suddenly gasping her for breath.
He raised a hand to motion the guards to come into the room. They entered wearily of both of them now. "Take her to her cell boys. You need not worry about her pheromones, as my own toxins counteract them."
They led her away, with her sagging between them, her eyes watching him with a fear that she probably hadn't known in a while. His spores were in her lungs, blocking out most of the things she could do. His spore was his version of her pheromones. It could attract any female he chose, and when it entered a woman's lung, it stayed until he was ready for it to be released. For that reason, he could pull oxygen in through his skin. His lungs were full of his spores, and meant for use on Poison Ivy, or emergency reasons only.
Dr. Whistler walked in, her face poised, even if her eyes hinted at her unease. "Care to explain yourself, Warden Birch, or should I just skip this conversation and go to the higher powers to have you removed?"
Sorrel smirked at her and motioned for her to exit the room. They walked in a tense silence all the way back to his office. Once there, her unease became more apparent as he placed the potted plant with the hundreds of others that now filled the space.
"You have an unhealthy obsession." Dr. Whistler blurted out. "What happened in that interview was unacceptable!"
Sorrel sat down behind his desk and leaned back, motioning for the doctor to sit, and nearly laughing when she jumped at the vine that pulled the chair out for her.
"I'm going to make you privy to some knowledge doctor. If it leaves this room, well, let's just say that Gretchen Whistler will be a footnote in history." He murmured, leaning forward suddenly, and clasping his hands in front of him. "I mean it. One whisper, and you are gone. Erased. Never having existed. We can even make sure memory of those who won't let it lie is tampered with. We clear?"
The good doctor nodded her head, her face a little pale, and mouth a little to slack. He set out to scare her into silence, looks like he succeeded.
"The doctor's coming in, and myself, have been trained, and even 'altered' if needed to handle the patients we are assigned too. We are here not to cure them though. That's impossible, and you know it. So, we are set up to. . .seduce them. We are to try and make sure that these villains fall in love with us, and hopefully, with our better natures, we can make sure they live a quiet life. No crime and all. If we begin to show progress, a new wing will be added onto Arkham Island that is Family Units. A place where the patient and doctor can live together, start a family, whatever they will. Only when we think they are ready though, will they move." Sorrel said, standing and walking around the desk to stand by Dr. Whistler. "See, what we are doing isn't crazy or so bad, really?"
Dr. Whistler swallowed then glanced up at him. "And if the 'cure' you are trying doesn't work, what then?"
Sorrel's face darkened and he glanced away from her, his eyes boring into the wall. "We are obsolete and will be assigned to do God knows what. The patient. . .will be reviewed and based on their crimes. . .will be sentenced accordingly. To put it bluntly, people like Killer Croc and Joker are looking at a death sentence."
Dr. Whistler turned her gaze back to the desk and then down to her clasped hands. "How many have been. . .altered like you?"
Sorrel leaned against the desk beside her and crossed an ankle over the other. His pose was calm, thoughtful even. "Really. . .I think I'm the only one. The doctor we are bringing in for Killer Croc is. . .something on her own. She came to us that way though. Something about the area that she grew up in. Whatever it was though, she refuses to speak of it to anyone. She's nine feet and some change and has some killer senses. She can smell you from two or three miles off and run as fast as a cheetah. Other than her freakish height though, she looks like anybody else. Knocks a good punch too."
He breathed out some spores and watched the Dr. Whistler breath them in with a hard gaze.
Immediately, the doctor put a hand to her throat and glanced up at him, terror filling her gaze.
Sorrel kneeled before her, putting a gloved hand on each side of her and leaning in, not quite touching her. "Deep, calm breaths. You are okay. They aren't going to hurt you. It's added insurance doctor. Not that I don't trust you, but these doctor's coming in are my responsibility. You understand, right? I have to protect them."
"You are still a monster, no better than anybody locked up here!" She spat as soon as she had calmed herself down.
"I know that. No one else does, though." Sorrel smirked. "To make you feel better though, every doctor can combat one another. Through strength, smarts, or will alone. In my case, our little nine foot doctor can put me through a metal wall without breaking a sweat. So, there is someone out there who can stop me. Fear not."
He stood up, giving the doctor room to stand, and pace.
As she walked back and forth, glaring at him, and muttering to herself, Sorrel let himself lapse into thought. His train of thought went to Poison Ivy, and he made a mental note to make a visit to her while she was in her cell. He wouldn't enter the cell though. She needed somewhere that she could feel safe from him, even if that area kept her helpless from all.
"When do the other doctor's arrive?" Dr. Whistler interrupted.
"They'll come in slowly. Even I will get surprised as to who comes in first or second. I do, however, know who is coming in last. Well, at least of the doctors that are ready to enter Arkham and do their jobs." Sorrel answered, crossing his arms over his chest. His brow furrowed slightly as he took in the doctor. "The last doctor to enter Arkham will be the woman who is assigned to Joker. She has gone through intense training, and still is, as we speak. Everything she does will. . .essentially, infuriate the Joker. Get under his skin, and hopefully, make his focus on her. Kind of like the Joker fixates himself on Batman."
Dr. Whistler nodded and paced some more. He watched her as she marched back and forth, stepping over any plants that stretched into her path, and even gave some squeaks and jumps when one would touch her.
"They like you Dr. Whistler." He mused as another plant tried to touch the doctor's pencil skirt.
"Don't let Poison Ivy know that." She snapped, moving back closer to him, out of the plants reach.
Sorrel chuckled in amusement. "Deal."
"I think. . .I think we are done with this discussion from now on. However, I want to be here when you bring in each new Doctor. I am still Head Psychiatrist, right?" She pressed.
Sorrel let his lips tip up into a smirk again. "For now."
He watched her leave in a huff and slam his office door shut.
"For someone who is always known for remaining calm and poised during some of the scariest of patient interviews, she sure does get angry easy, doesn't she?" He asked a vine as it stretched to him, wrapping around his finger tips and climbing his arm. "Let's hope that all our plans don't go to waste little one. I would so love to introduce you to your mommy."
Sorrel lived on Arkham Island, and his rooms were hidden beneath his office. The old Warden didn't use them, and locked them up. He had jumped on the chance to use them however. Only a queen bed and computer on a desk filled his place. The kitchen was stocked with fruits and vegetables, and cold cuts. Plates only. He kept nothing else. He only drank water.
The rest of the room was used for more plants. They grew as they willed, thriving under UV lights and his care.
They greeted him as he entered his new home, snagging an apple and flopping down on his bed. Vines stretched and slithered around his body, cradling him in his sanctuary.
He bit into the apple and chewed it thoughtfully as he went over the events of the day in his mind. So much had happened, and yet on the scale of things, so little. There was still so much to do. He had to set up rooms for his new doctors. Find special quarters for two of them. One would have no choice but to live near her office. She was confined to a wheel chair after all.
He frowned as he considered living arrangements for her. He might stick another doctor with her. Someone who could easily help her, and not mind doing so.
He waved his hand, sending the vines away as he finished his apple and tossing the core into the trash by his bed.
Fatigue set in as the sun began to set. The need to sleep strong.
INTERVIEW 2
"Hello, Ivy. How are you today?" Sorrel asked, pen poised over paper.
"What did you do to me?" Ivy snapped, leaning forward slightly and baring her teeth at him.
Sorrel raised an eyebrow and met her angry gaze. "What ever do you mean? I haven't done anything to you, Ivy. If I recall correctly, you kissed me in our last meeting."
"You put some kind of spore in me! A male pheromone! It blocks me from spreading my own pheromones and I can barely hear the call of my babies anymore!" Ivy hissed.
"Sounds like a personal problem. Perhaps you are just at the end of your season? Maybe when Spring hits, you'll bloom anew?" Sorrel teased her with a straight face. "Or maybe it's plant menopause."
Ivy leapt over the table at him, her nails digging into the flesh of his face and going no where. His skin was like bark, and her nails, stronger than a normal humans though they were, did nothing to damage him. Still though, she attacked him like a wild animal. She screamed and raged, demanding back her powers. Finally, she begged.
INTERVIEW 3
She sat across from him, dark circles under her eyes, her already pale green skin even paler. Her hair hung limp, and she flinched anytime he moved.
"Let us talk Ivy. If you do well on this interview, we'll see about taking you to the Botanical Garden's. Would you like that?" Sorrel said, not even bothering to pull out a notepad.
Ivy raised her gaze to him, slowly. "What does it matter? I can't hear them anymore. They probably think their mommy is dead."
Sorrel leaned back and kept his face carefully blank as he examined her. Perhaps he took the fear to far. Their sessions were a week apart a piece. She was exhausted, drained of all she was, and now, wilting. He sighed and stood from his chair, walking around to her.
Easily, he slung her light body up into his arms and walking over to the door.
Holding her in the cradle of one arm, he opened the door and walked down the hallway. Guards ran up, but none got too close.
Dr. Whistler followed him, her angry steps getting closer and closer, as she nearly ran to keep up with his long stride.
"Where are you going Warden Birch? You cannot take her out of this building!" She screeched as she followed.
"I can do as I please, Dr. Whistler. You forget your place sometimes. Now, I'm taking Poison Ivy to the Botanical Gardens. She is not well, and I'm sure this will help her out." Sorrel answered easily, swiping his card through the door to shut down the electric field. "Why don't you check on the progress of the rooms I'm setting up for the doctors coming in? I emailed you a list of how every room should be for every doctor. Two are sharing quarters away from the others."
Eventually, he had her in the gardens. She perked up and looked around, but still otherwise limp in his arms. As he reached the giant chasm, a large gnarled vine rose up to carry them across.
In the sanctuary away from everyone else, he set her on the ground and turned to the wall. He had UV lights installed to help some of the plants grow, as Gotham was often more rainy than anything else. He turned on a lone light over Poison Ivy and watched her breath deeply and shield her eyes from the bright light.
"I'll remove the spores from you, if you promise to behave, and cooperate during the interviews. I can also promise more trips like this. Maybe even eventually host all of our interviews here, as long as you behave." Sorrel said as he approached.
He let his shadow fall over Ivy and gazed down at her, then crouched beside her.
"Do we have an agreement?" He asked.
Ivy nodded and he lowered himself over her, and ghosted his lips over hers. He released his own toxin into her. It worked through her fast, killing off the spores within her.
He pulled back, grinning down at her. "Wasn't so bad, was it?"
Ivy blinked her luminescent eyes up at him. "What are you, exactly?"
"A man created to dominate you in every way possible. And I can be the most tender with you as well. We are a pair, you and I. We just have to make it work. I am here for you, and you must learn to be here for me." He murmured, brushing some hair away from her face.
She rolled away from him and back into the light.
He sat there, on his knees, watching her. She flourished underneath the artificial light. The vines curled around her and she talked to them.
After a while, her anger was apparent. "They answer your call now."
"Something that was needed. They respond to you, just not in the way you want." He stood up and tucked his hands into his pockets. While she fumed, he glanced down, noting the dirt on is three piece suit. Mentally, he made a note to wear different clothing when they did their interviews. He couldn't afford to dirty up all of his suits that way.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: END CHAPTER! What did you think? Please leave reviews. Flames not welcome here. . .