Chapter 1: The Bat in the Belfry

The masked vigilante's world had been turned upside down. They'd caught him. They'd finally caught him, and then, what was worse, he was in the last place on earth he'd wanted to end up, Arkham Asylum.

Bruce wore the same orange outfit all the other inmates wore. He was placed in the room in the topmost level of the old house, just above the room where the Croc's tank once was. It had broken open recently, flooding the lower levels, causing immense water-damage. It was a wonder the place was still standing, but after all the mess had been moped up there was hardly a sign of the incident.

So Bruce was in one of the drabbest rooms he'd ever seen, let alone inhabited. The white walls were bare and their paint peeled off in ribbons. The only furnishings in the small room were a grubby toilet, a grime-filled sink with a rusty tap, and a small uncomfortable-looking lumpy cot in one corner. Bruce had never missed the mansion so much in his life as he did then, but he knew it would be quite a while before he saw his home again.

Around three in the afternoon the inmates were allowed to use the rec yard. Bruce wasn't looking forward to entering a yard full of psychotic wrong-doers, especially running into anyone he'd put in that hellhole personally. Bruce sighed and reminded himself he'd meet other inmates face-to-face eventually, and today might as well be the day.

(MB,BB)

At three a guard came to take Bruce down to the yard to stretch his legs.

"Come on, Bat Boy. Time for some fresh air." The guard opened the metal of the cell with a creak and motioned for Bruce to get up and get out.

Bruce stood up from where he'd been sitting on the corner of the cot. "Thank you, sir," Bruce said, remembering his manners despite his situation.

Bruce followed the guard, whose name tag read "Anderson," down flights of stairs. Anderson took them in stride, as he'd taken the stairs for many years by then. Bruce, of course, could keep up with the guard, but the stairs were still something to get used to. The stairs on the upper levels were winding, and Bruce couldn't remember going up and down stairs so many times in his life before he arrived at Arkham.

They reached the courtyard in what felt like an hour, though it was more or less only five minutes. Bruce looked around the yard, which was surrounded by fences with barbed wire, and saw only half as many inmates as he'd expected. Then he realized that some residents weren't let outside for one reason or another.

Bruce sat down on a wooden bench near the closest fence and watched some inmates he didn't recognize playing basketball. He knew eventually that someone who knew him would show up.

"Hey there, Batman." Crane sat down on the bench next to Bruce.

"Dr. Crane." Bruce nodded to him.

"Never though I'd see the day when you'd join us." Crane smiled. "Are you liking your stay?"

"It's not as bad as I thought it would be," Bruce replied.

"Oh, it gets worse at night," Crane said casually. "All the real crazies are let loose in the halls. The monster in the basement is let out for a while. They only let him out at night when everyone's safe in their rooms. Sometimes he looks in at you. He always gives me the creeps."

"The Joker?" Bruce asked, confused.

"The Joker? Ha!" Crane grinned. "He wishes he was that creepy. Believe it or not, Batman, there are much crazier people in this world than the Joker."

"Hmm." Bruce was lost in thought. If this "monster" wasn't the Joker, than who was he?