Police cars are cozy.
Ice blue eyes stared lazily out of the window, a happy hum bubbling from her throat as she fiddled with the handcuffs behind her back. They were a nice change from the rope that usually bound her wrists. Mr. Gordon and his fat friend sat in the front seat of the car while she sat in the back, and the two in the front would sometimes make silent conversation.
She didn't like the fat one.
"So do you understand why we have to take you to jail?" Mr. Gordon asked her, ice blue eyes locking with a grayer shade. She stopped her humming and brought her bottom lip between her teeth in thought.
"It's because I put the white coats to sleep, yes?" The man who sat in front of her sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before responding. "Those were government workers. They were supposed to keep you safe." A frown spread across her face and her eyes filled with deathly malice as he spoke.
"Yes," she muttered bitterly, "because shoving a little girl in a cage and making her sing for you is totally keeping her safe."
She watched the two men share a look and then pull into the parking lot of what looked like a police station. The older man helped her out while the fat man just waddled inside. She found herself giggling at his obesity. "Is he part duck?" she asked the bearded man as he brought her inside. He responded with a shrug, and her giggles only grew.
Interrogation boxes are not cozy.
They're ugly and gray and they smell disgusting.
River scowled at the police officer before her, blue eyes burning into his soul. Only metaphorically, of course. If she really wanted to get into his soul all she had to do was sing. Men are stupid.
"What is your name?" The man asked her, and her scowl only continued to deepen.
Who did this man think he was?
Her father?
Her body shot forward as insane laughter ripped from her system, the idea of a father so foreign to her that it made her laugh. Fathers are just guilty men who feel obliged to watch their spawn. Or they can be promise breaker who never come back.
Ever.
Her laughter died in an instant and she stared at the man before her dully, all amusement lost from her body. She'd never forgive the man who left her there. Left her for a boy. Males cannot be trusted.
She hardy registered when they began to move her body towards a van, a big white van. She began snickering again at the sight of it. "Come on guys, don't stoop so low as to pedophile me." One of her guards, she's not sure which, smacked her in the back of the head and told her to shut up.
Woah.
Hold the fuck up there, bud.
An animalistic growl rumbled in the back of her throat as her eyes went from mirthful to deadly. "It's not nice to hit people. Maybe I should just sing you to sleep too." Just as she opened her mouth to sing, a muzzle was slapped across her face and tightened to the point where she couldn't open her mouth.
So that's how they wanted to play?
With another growl she had ducked from their grip and grabbed his arm, hoisting herself up and locking her legs around one of the guards' necks. She twisted her hips until she heard a satisfying snap and then propelled herself from his dead body to another guard's. Hands that she recognized grabbed her wrists and the male used his body weight to shove her down, and any other available hand strapped her into a straitjacket. Not long after, they'd shoved her into the van.
Well…at least she was cozy.
Arkham Asylum stinks, she concluded rather quickly.
The food sucks, they make you wear such tacky colors, and the lighting made her hair look sickly and oily. Not only that, but they wouldn't take off her straitjacket or her muzzle. They fed her through this weird tube that put food into her stomach for her, and they even bathed her in her jacket.
In a nut shell, she hated it.
However, her straitjacket buddy was amazing.
Ms. Harley Quinn, is what she insisted on being called.
River really liked Ms. Quinn. The blonde lady often told her in high detail about the lovely crimes she and her husband would commit. The older woman was an amazing story teller, though her constant laughter and high pitched voice got annoying.
That's where she was now. Sitting in her cell, listening to her one and only cellmate, Ms. Quinn, go on and on about "Mr. J" or something. Honestly, the gray haired girl had stopped listening quite a while ago.
The sound of a man's voice broke the young teen from her thoughts and she scurried to the glass wall to look at the speaker.
"Heads you stopped talking, tails I shut you up. Permanently."
A shiver went down River's spine and she smiled sickeningly sweet at the deformed man.
This was going to be fun.
So what'd you guys think? Hm? Hmmm? Question: What gender should I pair lovely little River with? Male, or female? I have an idea for both but female will be a little challenging to write. Also, help. I like this girl and I don't know how to talk to her ;-;