The waves of the bay harbor crash softly against the rocky shore and recede back, only to repeat the process. In the peaceful still of the clear blue night, the sound of a harp and flute can be heard. The view pans upward to the clod and grey exterior of the battle-ship shaped from of Arkham Asylum.

Prisoners sit peacefully in lunchroom chairs pre-arranged as a make-shift auditorium. In front of them are Jarvis Tetch in his white prisoner uniform, eyes closed and softly playing the flute. Aside him a white brunette woman hugging a large ground harp; her fingers softly and with exquisite beauty of their own, gently work their way up and down in a melodic counterpoint.

Penguin sits in a chair next to Joker, delighting himself by getting wrapped up in the bliss of the classical work and air conducting it. Penguin notices tears coming from Joker's eyes.

"Ah, Joker – I had no idea you were so moved by the finer musical arts."

"I'm not – I sat on a pocket full of thumbtacks meant for Scarecrow."

"If I do say so, it appears you are finally getting the point of the guards requests."

The music finally concludes. There is some clapping and positive voices. Towering above them is Penguin clapping loudly and bellowing out, "Bravo! Bravo! Bellissima! Encore!"

Jarvis bows. The woman nods her heard to the prisoners. The warden walks up, a jailer besides him for protection.

"Thank you. Thank you all for another successful Music Thursday's, now in its seventh mount running. As usual, I hope you will all assemble peacefully to your maximum security and minimum security wings. The minutes until lights out," the warden gets off stage.

As guards watch in corners with shotguns, the prisoners do just that, filing out separate doors. A separate guard watches as Jarvis closes his flute carrying case. He turns and heads over to assist the brunette woman.

Jarvis speaks to her, "Ah, my lovely song bird with fingers of an angel, please do let me help."

"Thank you, Jarvis," she replies.

They push the heavy harp to a platform with wheels at the end of the stage, stopping to lift it up and place it on the platform. They walk off stage and push the harp over to the minimum security wing door after Jarvis places the flute case on the cart, too.

"Jarvis, what did you call those brain waves that relax the body?" she asks.

"Alpha waves, my celestial singer. Attuned properly, they bring the mind and body to a state of deep relaxation, but when it comes to Bach's Flute Sonata No. 2, the relaxation just sort of comes naturally."

"Indeed it does," she replies.

"I … don't know how to broach this, but tomorrow parole hearings begin. I do, of course," he places a hand on his heart, "expect to be denied again, but what if you are approved? I won't get to see you for so long. Oh – how I will miss your effulgent beauty and voice that would make even God weep. If I may have but one last request, it would be but a kiss; forbidden on such cold and lifeless grounds that would deny a man one of life's few memorable pleasures, lest the guard here find it in his heart to-"

"Make it quick," the guard looks off to the side after the stop at the door leading to the Men's wing.

"Jarvis, it's really not necessary-" she is cut off when Jarvis places a hand on one of her cheeks and kisses her on the lips.

"Ah, freedom – always but on the cusp of the wild wind. Good night, my singing seraphim."

"Okay, Romeo, end of the line," the guard unlocks the entrance door and lets Jarvis in, then shuts it.

"Okay, proceed to the Women's wing," he says to her.

The woman walks, grinding her teeth and saying lowly, "Pig…" while pushing the cart by herself.

.

It's mid next day at Arkham Asylum. A guard summons the brunette woman from her open cell, interrupting her reading of a book on the human brain.

She is handcuffed and her feet shackled, in advance of entering a parole board hearing room. In it Commissioner Gordon also sits, not part of the board.

"Prisoner 74736, one misses Lorelei Circe, your file indicates this is your second parole hearing. You were found guilty of pre-meditated manslaughter by a jury of your peers. According to our records you have been an exemplary prisoner who has shown signs she can and is willing to re-join society," says the parole board head, an older black woman with glasses.

"I am."

"No! You can't do this! She's not sorry – she never even admitted guilt!" Gordon blurts out.

"Commissioner Gordon, this is a civil and peaceful hearing; if you have something you'd like to ad, please step forward and address us," says the head of the board.

Gordon gets up out of his chair and stands feet apart from Circe, "Lorelei Circe is a cold-blooded killer who to this day is unrepentant."

"There are serious accusations, Commissioner," another member comments aloud, an elderly man.

"And it wasn't just him," Gordon adds.

"Explain," says the head of the board.

"Two of her passed boyfriends disappeared under mysterious circumstances and her first fiancé was found dead in their home. Mind you I can't prove any of this legally, but I've been a cop long enough to know when something stinks."

The parole board head replies to Gordon, "While un-founded accusations are not sufficient for the board to take into account, your thoughts will be considered."

"Just ask her," he points to Circe, "is she sorry?" Gordon turns around and storms out.

"Well, misses Circe, I am understandably compelled to ask you: are you sorry for killing your husband?" the board head asks.

Circe doesn't speak for a few seconds and blinks her eyes in annoyed thought, slightly pursing her lips, "I would remind the board that I was convicted but pled innocent, that no murder weapon was found."

The male member speaks up again, "Miss Circe, I have read the trial transcriptions, I know the evidence entered and not entered into trial. Lack of admission of the crime and a murder weapon unaccounted fordoes not make you innocent. Having read the transcripts, I happen to believe you killed your second husband, but the charges brought and behavior here in Arkham compels me to put aside my beliefs in the trial outcome and judge you now, over three years later. And from where I sit, the lack of remorse for your late husband troubles me."

"May I speak freely?" Circe asks.

"Miss Circe, you can speak as you wish – this panel review is perhaps the only time each year you can do so," says the head.

"Say I did kill him, do any of you honestly think I would get out, marry again, and kill again? What kind of serial killing monster do you think I am?"

"Miss Circe, while that may be a valid point, we have to take into account your psychological profile and whether you are fit to re-join society," the parole board head replies.

"My mental health? From the same prison that gave us Harley Quinn? Lock Up? And the infamous revolving door that keeps letting out people like Penguin and the Joker? I don't think those men are fit to judge me."

The parole head answers back, "Miss Quinzel was an unfortunate mistake. I was saddened to have been a colleague of hers, but please don't lump me and the rest of them in with her. Now, let's talk about your life here in Arkham, shall we?"

.

After a little over ten minutes, the door opens and Circe slowly exits, with a guard in tow. The door shuts, and once closed all three panel members give each other knowing looks.

Circe's file is rubber-stamped DENIED in red ink.

.

Later that day. Circe is escorted by a guard to the prisoner's recreational room.

"I'm sorry to hear about the bad news, miss Circe," says the guard.

"What bad news?" she asks him.

"You know, the parole denial."

"Denied?" she says shocked and a little angry, turning to look at the guard.

"Please face forward – you know the rules when being escorted."

They stop at a door. The guard puts a key in a control panel, turns it, and enters a code. There's a buzzing sound and the red light above the door turns green. He opens it and she walks in by herself. The guard closes the door and leaves.

Circe opens the door to the recreational room; in it the harp and flute reside, as well as some miscellaneous other items from other inmates.

"Ah, my serenading songbird, I was beginning to wonder if you'd show."

Circe walks to her harp, "My parole hearing ran a little longer. I needed time to myself after that."

"So, how'd it go?"

"They denied my parole," she flicks a hand down the harp strings to the lower octaves.

"Ah, well, I've been in here for over four years now. As is always the case, Batman put me away, but this time I really reflected on things and began to realize I really did belong here and that perhaps it was helping me. It's not so bad when you get used to it. Give it time. Plus you have me as company."

"I don't belong here. If Commissioner Gordon hadn't shown up at my parole hearing…"

"There, there," he puts his hands on her shoulders, "You just need something to take your mind off it all. Maybe a new piece…" he spins around her and lowers his hands to her hips, "or maybe you and I can make beautiful music together."

Circe's fingers close into her hands, making fists; they turn red and shake before she stops and looks away from the harp to Jarvis, "How about I sing…"

He removes his hands and puts them together, "Oh, how delightful! You rarely ever sing and it's always so beautiful when you do."

"Then I have something just for you. I've been practicing extra hard lately to do this. How would you like to hear a note you've never heard before?"

"Ooohhh, yes, yes – please do!"

Circe backs up a few steps.

"Now, listen carefully…"

Jarvis watches intently. Circe opens her mouth, lowering her jaw and letting her mouth hang open freely. A high-pitched note comes out – shrill and so clean it is like a computer-generated sine wave. Jarvis' face goes from a delighted smile to one of apathy as his face muscles loosen. He stares out at Circe; not so much at her but as through her. She closes her mouth and looks at him with ambivalence.

"Stay here…" she exits the room and goes to the locked door. She knocks, "Guard! Guard!"

"What?" he looks through the window pane.

"Something's wrong with Jarvis!"

"Step away from the door," says the guard.

She steps back a few times. The buzz sounds and the door opens.

"Over here, hurry!" she runs to the room, the guard with her.

The guard jogs in and sees Jarvis just standing there, looking out into space.

"Mr. Tetch, are you okay?" he awaits and gets no response, "Hello? If this is some kind of game, you know you'll never get paroled ever again," he snaps some fingers in front of Jarvis' face and looks into his eyes, "There's nobody home. Poor bastard must have been experimenting again and got himself. I better call Batman, he said if Mr. Tetch ever-"

"No," she grabs one of the guard's arms.

"Hey!"

She opens her mouth. He looks up from her hand to her face. He glazes over as the sine wave is made. She closes her mouth.

"What is the door code?" Circe asks.

"6736."

"Take Mr. Tetch back to his cell. Jarvis, darling…" she walks up to him, "go back to your cell."

"Yes," Jarvis replies.

"When the guard has left, get a spare pair of underwear and hang yourself."

"Yes."

"Oh, and Jarvis."

"Yes?"

"Take your shirt off and double the noose – I wouldn't want you falling prematurely."

"Yes."

Jarvis walks out the recreation room door with the guard in tow. They exit the secured door.

"Faster, please," Circe says, following them.

"Yes."

"Yes."

They pick up the pace. Circe cautiously sneaks around the halls. She lowers and crawls under a checkpoint window. Another secure door a few feet from the window buzzes. She flattens her body against the wall near the door's hinges. The door flies open, only an inch from her face. A guard walks in and to the check point window. She slips quickly around the door and out it.

The guard walks away from Jarvis' cell. Jarvis heads immediately for a spare underwear garment, while removing his prison shirt.

More emboldened, Circe runs down a long hall with closed doors, stopping at a stairwell. She quietly opens the door and closes it quietly, too.

The Penguin looks on at Jarvis as he climbs onto a pile of the bed sheets and mattress atop the desk chair.

"By God, the ol' chap is really going to do it, isn't he?"

Next to Penguin's cell, the Joker watches, "A free show and here I am with no popcorn!"

.

The guard at the sign-in visitor's desk looks up from his Grey Ghost comic book to see Batman standing there, signing it.

"Oh, Batman! Sorry, I was … what brings you here today?"

"Just a regular monthly check up on Harvey Dent."

"Two-Face?"

"Harvey Dent," Batman says more pronounced.

The guard buzzes the entrance door and lets Batman in.

.

Circe exits the stairwell, once it has reached the bottom. She heads for the laundry bay.

.

Jarvis kicks out the chair and hangs himself. He twitches for a couple of seconds, then comes out of the hypnosis Circe had put on him and starts struggling to breathe. He tries to rip the noose off.

"Guard!" Penguin yells.

Jarvis' arms drop to his sides and he start shaking like he was having a seizure.

"Guard!" Penguin yells again, louder and banging the bars with his fists.

The door buzzes and opens, the guard and Batman walking in.

Penguin looks down at them the best he can with a small part of his head sticking out; he sees Batman, "Batman!" he yells, pointing at Jarvis cell, "He's hung himself!"

Batman and the guard run over. The guard fiddles with the lock. Once open, Batman rushes in, pulls out a batarang and flings it at the noose, slicing threw it and dropping Jarvis.

.

Circe nears the hall to the laundry bay. As she's about to round the corner she hears a voice yell out to her.

"Hey!" Commissioner Gordon calls out.

Circe turns around quickly to see him.

"What are you doing down here? You can't be down here without an escort."

"Laundry detail," she quickly replies.

"Laundry detail? I didn't see anything about laundry detail in your file. Hold it right there!" he takes out his firearm and aims it at her, holding it with both hands. "I don't know where you thought you were going, but it certainly wasn't out of here. So, what do you got to say now?"

"Just…"

She widens her mouth and opens and sings the same sine wave as before. The stern look on Gordon's face disappears when his face muscles loosen. His other hand lets go of the gun and it and the hand holding the gun fall to his sides. The muscles in the hand holding it also loosen and the weapon falls out of it and onto the ground. She closes her mouth and thinks for a second.

"Commissioner…"

"Yes, Circe?"

"Why don't you do me a favor and go to the rooftop … and jump off it."

"Yes, Circe," Gordon walks passed her, heading to the nearest stairwell.

She makes her way quickly down the hall and to a locked door to the laundry bay. She looks out the small window in the door and sees only a couple of prisoners working, one stuffing dirty laundry into bags, the other loading them into a truck that has it's opened backdoor exposed to the bay loading door.

.

Jarvis sits up against a cell wall as a doctor looks him over. Batman sits on his haunches next to Jarvis, his back to the cell door.

"I don't see any signs of drugs or any physical damage. He should be fine. I'll want to do an X-ray later on to check on any possible internal damage to the esophagus," says an Arkham doctor.

Jarvis speaks up, "Oh, Batman, to what do I owe this visit to?" he says with a little sarcasm.

"You hung yourself."

"Hang myself? Don't be absurd – why would I do such a thing?" he rubs his red throat.

"That's what I'd like to know. One of your mind control contraptions misfire on you, Tetch?"

"No! I haven't even toyed with anything like that in almost a year."

"Riiighhht – so you tripped and fell an accidently hung yourself."

"Actually, I'm not sure what happened," Jarvis replies.

"Tell me what you remember," Batman asks, giving him the benefit of doubt and wanting to exhaust any other possibilities.

"Well, ah, that's kind of the thing – I don't really remember anything."

"What's the last thing you recall?" Batman asks, taking a cue from Jarvis's face and body language that he might be telling the truth.

"I was in the recreation room practicing a new Back piece when my dynamic musical duo partner Lorelei Circe came in to practice. She was a little down because the parole board denied her again. She offered to sing for me and after that I … I … I don't seem to recollect anything beyond that. Well, I sort of remember hanging, but it wasn't until I saw you, Batman, that I really remember anything."

"You rest," Batman stands up and leaves Jarvis' cell; he walks to the doctor who is almost at the hall exit door, "Doctor."

"How can I help you, Batman?" he asks, then enters the code and opens the door. Batman follows him out.

"I'd like to run some more thorough tests with some of my own equipment."

"Well, you'll of course have to get the warden's permission. But you'll have to wait forty-eight hours; he'll be placed under suicide watch twenty-four hours a day until they're over. Then he'll get a psychological evaluation and-"

He stops when he sees Batman stop walking and get down on his haunches, looking at a gun on the hall floor.

"Whose gun is that? The doctor asks, angrily, since they are in a prison.

Batman picks it up and examines it, "This belongs to Commissioner Gordon."

"How do you know that?"

Batman speaks as he stands up, "I read the serial number. This isn't like him."

.

Like a zombie, Gordon walks down a hall, nearing another stairwell. A man walks out a door, reading a paper.

"Oh, Commissioner Gordon – didn't expect you see you here. Where you headed?"

"The roof," Gordon says, un-phased. He continues on ahead and opens the stairwell door, entering and walking up the steps.

"Okay. Nice seeing you, too," the man continues walking away.

Gordon lifts his feet up and onto step after step after step. He opens the door to the rooftop, and walks out onto the roof. The cool breeze from the nearby river blows his coat's end around.

Gordon stops at the edge, looks down, and climbs up onto the safety wall. He walks off the edge.

As he falls face forward to the ground, Batman swoops down and lands on Gordon's back, causing them to spin around. With his free hand he points a grappling hook, armed with a sharp digging end instead of the old three-fingered grappling hooks, and fires. It shoots up fast and jams into Arkham Asylum. It pulls taut less than one story from the ground. They swing in one direction and the sharp end falls out of the building, causing them to fall. Batman falls on his back with Gordon held firmly with his other arm.

"HUAGH!"

The loose grapping string falls to the earth. A couple of outside guards come running.

"Ow … where am I?" Gordon asks after Batman has rolled him off.

"Outside Arkham, Commissioner."

"Batman? How'd I get out here?"

The guards help them up. Then one of them picks up Gordon's glasses, which had fallen off, and hands them to him.

"You mean you don't remember?" Batman asks, looking at Gordon and noticing the same comment that Jervis gave.

"No, I don't; last thing I remember is … Circe! I found her on another floor with no escort and … well, I don't really remember, to tell you the truth."

Batman asks him, "Tell me about Circe…"

.

Circe looks out the window of the back door to the delivery truck she stowed away in, hiding behind bags of laundry, as it drives into Gotham.