It was dark, cold and wet by the dumpster behind what used to be O'Shay's. The bar had been closed for about two years, and its neglected dumpster was often used for illegal dumping. The smell kept even Gotham's homeless away from the alley. It was the perfect temporary camp-out for Arkham's most recent release, Skylar Napier. After fifteen years of living as the daughter of Harley Quinn and the Joker, she had admitted herself into the Asylum, and then willingly stayed there for three years. It was difficult, and every day tested her mental limits. She had been born there. Every inch of the institution held haunting memories.

Though Skylar was cold and aching, sitting against the back wall of O'Shay's, she was unbelievably grateful to be miles away from the soul-wrenching torture that was Arkham. Still, some better surroundings would have been nice. Not to mention some company. Before Arkham, what Harley and Joker deprived her of vis-à-vis socialization, Skylar made up for with the Team. She could probably get some sympathy if she returned, but she was too humiliated to show her face. When she left for the Asylum, she knew she needed help and had to leave. But now? She was an outcast. Social leper. The kind of face people spat on. The sobering thought brought Skylar to tears.

'How pathetic am I?' she thought, hugging herself tightly. 'A lonely lunatic crying next to a dumpster behind a condemned bar.' She struggled to keep her sobs at a whisper's level, but failed. She could barely hear the sound of approaching footsteps. Skylar pressed her lips together and struggled not to make a sound. By then, however, the footsteps had already found her.

"Sky?" The voice was quickly processed in Skylar's mind. A girl's voice. Not high enough to be a child's, but not shaken or raspy enough to be anywhere over forty. A catch in the voice at the end. The girl must have had a lot of emotion attached to that name. As if it was the name of a close friend.

"Hey, Kirari." Skylar replied without looking up or missing a beat.

"Last I saw you, you were heading into Arkham. What're you doing here? Decide to follow the family tradition and break out?" Skylar winced. She knew there wasn't any malice behind the comment; nevertheless, it cut like a knife. She despised the idea of being associated with her parents' reputation.

"The purpose of my going to Arkham was to abandon the path my parents set out for me. Escaping only defeats that purpose," she said, drying the tears on her chin with her tattered sleeve.

"I know," Kirari replied quietly. "It was a joke. I was trying to make you feel better." Her eyes drifted down to examine Skylar's pitiful state. Her clothes were ripped and soiled. Her smell was nearly just as bold as that of the trash bags, one of which she was clearly using as a pillow. "Let me guess. You're coming up on six or seven days living back here?" Skylar looked up at Kirari and nodded. Her clothes were much cleaner than Skylar's. Her shoes were virtually spotless (probably new), and her hair had obviously just been done. Skylar envied her. "I wish I could help you," she said. "Maybe if you stay in my room, kind of on the down-low."

"Shut up," Skylar spat bitterly. "I don't want your pity. You've always had more than me. You've never had to worry about money like my family. You just like flaunting it."

"I'm not flaunting anything, Sky," Kirari said, grabbing Skylar's arm and lifting her up. "I'm trying to help. You can't live like this. If you don't want that help coming from me, that's fine." She paused and took the time to dust off Skylar's frail, shivering body and walk her out of the alley and into the street. The light from the streetlamps was blinding to Skylar, who instinctively shielded her face. It had been so long since her last meal, and she was therefore unbelievably weak and tired. Her body swayed with each step. Kirari helped her regain her balance. A wave of nausea swept over Skylar. Her vision blurred. She felt miserable, worthless even. "You need much more than sleep," Kirari noted sadly. "You're clearly dehydrated. And your hair looks limp. You're probably malnourished."

"I don't need you to deduce what's wrong with me," Skylar said through clenched teeth. She growled and wobbled like a drunk with blind rage. "If you really cared, you would've done something to help me by now." Kirari let out a sharp breath of air in exasperation. She was done taking pity on Skylar if all she was going to get in return was spite and bitterness. Still, she knew better than to leave her alone on the street.

"Are you and Jonathan still close?" Kirari asked. She grabbed Skylar's arm and forced her down the street to the lone blue Jeep that waited on the corner. After unlocking the doors, she let go of Skylar's arm so she could get in the car by herself. It was a struggle for the girl, since she could barely take a step without suffering the excruciating agony that followed. And the bittersweet memories that came with the mention of Jonathan's name certainly weren't painless, either.

"Crane?" Skylar managed, closing her door and buckling herself. "Yeah. But I haven't seen him since I left Arkham Asylum." She bit her lip. Skylar desperately wanted to remember Jonathan for all the good things he'd done for her, but still held the mental and physical scars from their time together. It was a dangerous relationship to be in, but she was terribly afraid of ending it. Besides, she loved him. 'Isn't that all that matters?' she thought as Kirari started the engine and started uptown. "Why does it matter?" Skylar asked while the idea of Jonathan was still fresh in her mind. Kirari looked to her right and stared at Skylar.

"Y'know, if you're trying to forget about your parents, you should probably stop tinting your hair green. You look like your dad," Kirari said coolly. Skylar frowned. This was intentional.

"It's not dye," Skylar mumbled. "It's my natural hair color." Another extended silence followed. Skylar was almost relieved when the vehicle slowed and Kirari put it into park.

"Get out," she said, staring straight ahead. Skylar looked out of the window and almost shuddered. Brick front. Grey door. Number 856.

"I can't go in th—"

"Get out. Of my car." Skylar hanged her head dejectedly, stepped out, and shut the door behind her. She heard the tires screech and pull away before she could even make it to the porch. She stood in front of the door in the dark, mind racing and palms sweating, with rain falling behind her. She couldn't stay there all night, she knew. Ironic, how fear was always the one thing that kept her a slave to this man. She held her breath and forced herself to ring the doorbell. She'd never prayed before, and even doubted the existence of a god. Yet, on that night, she prayed that there would be no answer at the door. Her lips moved with inaudible sound as she begged for some sort of mercy. She needed food, shelter, and rest, but dreaded the pain that typically came with visits to this address. She flinched at the sound of footsteps from the inside. 'Oh God, no—'

"Miss Napier," Jonathan said, opening the door. "I heard you were… in need. But, honestly, of all places, I didn't expect you to come here." She attempted a sigh, but her trembling just turned it into a frightened gasp. On hearing it, his lips slightly curled upward. He could literally sense her fear, and part of her actually enjoyed this. "You're afraid to come in, but I know you need to." He gently took her by the arm and pulled her inside. She was secretly afraid he might be able to feel her racing pulse. "You came at a bad time. I'm a bit busy right now. But you've been here enough times to know where everything is. I would rather you not bother me. When you're ready, there's a guest bedroom made." He let go of her arm, went down the nearby flight of stairs, and slammed the basement door behind him, leaving Skylar alone in the dark kitchen for the rest of the evening, which blurred into an exhausting series of fainting and vomiting episodes. Darkness was gradually replaced by the blinding sunlight that poured in from the kitchen window. As light flooded the room, Skylar could make out the objects that circled her in the corner where she laid. A cluttered plethora of snacks here, an array of half empty drinks there. And absolutely no evidence of Jonathan's presence in the room whatsoever. She smiled and let out a sigh of relief as she lifted herself from the floor. It was much easier than she expected; she must have been feeling better. After taking a moment to stretch, she turned around to pick up the trash heap she created and shrieked. He had been standing there watching her. "I meant for you to sleep in the guest room"

"I p-passed out and—a-and why… I-I was-" She clamped her mouth shut, unable to form her sentences through the stuttering.

"Did I scare you?" he asked. He stepped closer, wielding a smile that was aimed directly at her. Bad memories. Very, very bad memories. Encounters between them that began with that smile typically ended poorly. The last time she saw that smile, she ended up screaming and begging for mercy, lying pitifully in a pool of her own blood and tears. Instinct told her to take a step back, but experience said otherwise. Exposing fear would only add fuel to the fire.

"I should go now," she suddenly blurted out. The smile disappeared, and Skylar's heart dropped. She had made a mistake; this reaction was much worse. Skylar felt the slap before she heard it. His hands were coarse and felt like sandpaper on her cheek. It was quick, but Skylar would feel the pain all over the left side of her face for several minutes afterwards. She had taken harder punches before, but any attack from Jonathan always hurt worse. 'This is the price I pay,' she thought.

"And where, exactly, do you plan on going?" he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Your parents change locations so often, you might as well be homeless. No other family. No other friends who care enough to take you in." Skylar's face went red-hot. His tone was condescending, insulting. She wasn't foolish enough to respond in kind, but the idea was terribly tempting.

"I can find somewhere to go," she responded, her voice barely a whisper. Jonathan stepped back and laughed to himself.

"You are in absolutely no condition to go anywhere," he said. "When you showed up on my porch last night, you could barely stand. And now you're going house-hunting? Absolutely not." He turned and began walking away, but paused and returned to face Skylar. "Of course, if you're that bent on leaving, I could give you some medicine. Help you recover." Her eyes widened.

"No! Not the basement!" she yelled, tears welling up in her eyes. Her pupils were dilated and her breathing was uneven. Tell-tale signs of fear. Jonathan struggled to contain himself while Skylar stood trembling in front of him. She had only been to the basement one time, and swore to herself that it would be the last. She remembered walking down the stairs with him, utterly and ridiculously oblivious to the horrors that waited behind the door. She could never forget the smell of the toxin in the air or the feeling of it crawling inside her veins. Almost as if it were living inside of her. For weeks, she kept fixating on and repeating the same name. She wouldn't dare try to remember that name now. She was already terrified. "I'll stay," she decided. She tried reading Jonathan's face for a reaction, but his expression remained emotionless. She decided to push it just a bit farther. "But I just want to let Kirari know I'm okay."

"Ah, that's right," Jonathan said, casually placing an arm around Skylar's waist and leading her out of the kitchen. "Miss Kyle dropped you off here, didn't she? I suppose it may raise a few eyebrows if she never heard from you again…" Skylar nodded quickly in agreement and placed her head on his shoulder for good measure. She liked where this was going. "Fine. Let her know you're okay. I'll clean up you're mess from last night." Skylar mentally cheered as she walked to the back to use the guest phone. She quickly dialed the number and tapped her foot anxiously, waiting for someone to answer. This had to be quick if it was going to work.

"Who is this?" Kirari said on the other end. Just like her to get straight to the point.

"Hey, it's Skylar," she said in a hurried whisper. "I'm at Crane's house right now and I'm feeling much better, but he's not letting me go. You gotta come get me."

"Ugh," Kirari groaned. "You and that man! Whatever. If abusive relationships is your thing, that's none of my business." Skylar slammed her hand on her head, exasperated.

"Would you focus?" she whispered back. "Please! Just drive over here and pick me up."

"I'm not sure if I'm feelin' it today." She added a yawn. 'This girl…' Skylar thought.

"I swear, if you don't come and get me right now, when I do finally get our, so help me I'll—" She could hear him coming. She cursed under her breath and changed topics. "So, yeah. Don't worry about me," she said in a much cheerier tone. "I'll just see ya when I see ya."

"That bad huh?" Kirari said quietly on the other end. "Look, just stay out of the line of fire until I can think up someth-"

"Kay, bye!" Skylar interrupted. She hung up the phone and tried to look as nonchalant as possible for Jonathan, who stood in the doorway.

"So how did it go?" he asked, staring blankly at her. As far as poker faces went, he always put her to shame. It made her feel so transparent.

"I had a hard time convincing her," Skylar said, walking past Jonathan and into the living room. She sat down on the couch. "She's still worried about my safety, y'know?"

"Well, so am I," he said with what, to the untrained ear, could be mistaken as sympathy. He made his way over to the couch and sat next to her. "You know that don't you?" She angled her head away to roll her eyes. 'As if he really cares,' she thought, holding back hot tears. 'He would leave me in a heartbeat just like everyone else.' He gently laced an arm around Skylar's shoulder and sighed as he stared straight ahead, seemingly deep in thought. "We can't keep doing this," he said. As he spoke, he slowly and softly made small circular motions on her upper arm with his finger. She shuddered and let her eyes flicker closed. "I really care about you, but if you keep resisting, I'm just going to have to force you. Everything I do is in your best interests."

"I guess," Skylar said, mustering up the courage to continue. "It's just that…"

"Yeah?" he said. His tone carried a subliminal warning, but Skylar only recognized it after the words had escaped her lips.

"I don't really like you controlling me. I feel inferior." She bit her lip and looked down at her hands in her lap. Those words had struck a nerve. She was sure of it. What she was unsure of was how far she had pushed him. His fingers froze on her arm, but she could still feel him breathing just as steadily as he had been before. Her hear t pounded in anxiety, increasing in speed as the seconds passed. The longer it took for him to take action, the worse the punishment would probably be. He removed his arm from her shoulder, slipped his glasses off his nose, folded them, and placed them on the table beside him.

"I would think you'd be grateful," he sighed. "I know how badly you crave attention after years of living with Harley and Joker. I'm here to provide that. But, of course, your background probably makes it hard for you to think clearly, doesn't it?" he put a hand on Skylar's chin and brought her face up to meet his eyes. "That can easily be remedied." He stood and took Skylar's hand to lead her towards the stairs. As soon as his hand touched hers, her entire body tensed. She'd gone too far.

"No," she choked out, pulling away. The harder she struggled, the tighter Jonathan gripped her. "Stop!" she yelled, clawing at his hands. A single tear rolled as she was lifted helplessly into his arms. His free hand covered Skylar's mouth to stifle the screams. He walked quickly, only pausing at the foot of the stairs to open the basement door. He stepped inside and tossed her body onto the cold, concrete floor. Her body lay limp and crumpled on the floor while Jonathan locked the door.

And then he grabbed the mask.

Skylar instantly jumped up and backed away, her body suddenly filled with adrenaline. "Just calm down," she said. "Okay? I'm sorry."

"Your alleged remorse means nothing to me," he scoffed his voice barely recognizable behind the filters in his mask. "I am sick and tired of doing favors for an ungrateful child that's too ignorant to recognize their value. Now it's become clear to me that you need someone to help you come to your senses." Skylar tried to back away, unaware that she was already in the corner, and slammed her head against the wall. She could hear her skull throbbing. He slowly walked closer, savoring the sight of Skylar cornered and frightened. He held her face in his hands. "Shhh… Just breathe slowly." He slowly waved his wrist over her mouth and nose, forcing her to inhale the toxin, and stepped back to admire his work.

Skylar fell to her knees and pulled at her hair while waging a brutal war with her own thoughts. She could feel him-the Scarecrow-watching her, surrounding her. With the gas slowly lulling her into a state of helplessness, she was like putty in his hands. The sound of laughter droned on in her head like the sound of rolling waves. She moaned loudly, desperately trying to drown out the nonexistent noises. One blink, and instantly the mask was hovering over her. She screamed and yelled until she became hoarse.

"No one can hear you." The sound came from the mask, and echoed in her ear for what seemed like millennia, though she had lost all sense of time. In reality, the seconds continued ticking on as they had before. But in her mind, it was as if Time had stopped Herself for the sole purpose of savoring the moment. The mask came in closer until it was inches from her face. A pair of arms scooped her up and began carrying her off into what looked like endless darkness. She relaxed her neck and let her head drop. And as the world faded around her, she was bid a gentle goodbye by the sound of chimes in the distance.

-End of Chapter One-