A/N: Ok so we're still in the set up part of the story, but this is a major explanation for Austin's actions and thoughts in the future. I'll start the plot in the next chapter, although I won't have that many characters. I would love to hear what version of the Joker you guys would like me to stick with. For this story I'm actually a bit caught between sticking with Heath Ledger's Joker or the New 52 version of Joker since he's been locked up for so long. For those of you not reading the comics... the New 52 Joker is... an absolute sadistic psychopath/sociopath (I haven't decided which yet) to the point where Heath Ledger's Joker looks like the Riddler.

So essentially I'm asking how insane do you want to see the Joker?


Arkham's One Horror

Chapter 3: Echoes

Austin Fall's footsteps echoed through Arkham, the sound bouncing off the walls like a lifeless ball, because how can a replication have life if the original was already dead? Austin hated walking down Arkham's hallways, and the walls all knew it.

To Austin's ears, the echoes came back to him distorted. Walls can't speak, but they can return what you give them. New walls, like the ones in your homes and schools, are too young to speak and hold opinions. All they know is to be all wall. But old walls, stone walls with their insides still intact and filled with history, know that they can see, feel, and speak. While they cannot act, you can feel them trying to tell you their stories.

But what stories could a building like Arkham hold that people would want to hear?

The building is filled with crabby old men, veterans of insanity and madness, whose stories can never… should never be released. You can feel it, can't you Austin?

The echoes are meant to push you away. The eyes in the walls, watching you squirm under their frozen gaze. Their fingers stealing the heat from your body, showing you how cold you would be in death.

You want to continue walking Austin? Then the walls will tell you a story.

Get off the wall you silly boy. The lights only flickered. The lights buzz, but only so the walls can keep your attention because they know you remember the sound. What other sounds do you remember? You remember the yelling don't you? You remember how the voices sound trapped in these walls, having been trapped in these walls years before. There's no difference is there? They start as yells, screams, and cries, but they only reach you as ghostly whispers, quieted with age. But they're better as whispers aren't they?

The ghostly whisper will decide to leave you, not wanting to tell the same dead story again.

But the walls want to tell you a story, but they're losing your attention while you lose your mind. Did you hear a familiar voice Austin? Whose voice was it Austin? Was that your voice screaming through the walls Austin? It's not that far away Austin. Whose feet are those Austin? Are those your footsteps Austin? Or are they their footsteps Austin? Why are you running Austin? It was only a story Austin! Now they're chasing you Austin! Why not glance behind you Austin?! Why are you so scared Austin?! DON'T YOU HEAR HIM LAUGHING AUSTIN?! YOU CAN'T STOP NOW AUSTIN!

But then again, this isn't real Austin.

Austin crashed into the metal door, and clung to the iron cage protecting the glass. His breath was heavy as he sucked the Arkham air into his lungs.

As his heart began to slow, Austin straightened up and tried to eliminate all trace of fear from his person.

He was fine.

There were no echoes.

No footsteps.

No psychos.

And the lights weren't flickering.

They never flickered, he knew that.

He took a deep breath and looked in front of him. Behind the iron mesh and glass, the walls were bleach white with fluorescent lights making them glow. It looked kind of like a hospital… but a hospital is better than this dungeon of an asylum… isn't it Austin?

Austin shook his head and let out a long sigh before typing in the code to unlock the door. 3327. The light electronic notes becoming as melancholy as their surroundings as they bounced off the walls.

When the pad glowed green, Austin finally noticed his teeth digging into his lip. He forced himself to relax immediately and pushed the metal door open.

The air was warmer in this area of Arkham, the air pressure making it a bit difficult to open the door.

But there were echoes in here too. His footsteps bounced around in here too, but he didn't mind. These dumb walls just sent back his own careless creations. Soon, his steps had a rhythm as he swung his arms around boastfully like the optimistic youth he was. There was nothing to fear in here.

Up ahead a door was open with lights flashing through, energetic laughter echoing down the hallway. People.

Austin's smile widened and his pace matched his eagerness to reach the room.

"Sup guys?" Austin greeted, swinging into the room proudly.

The room quickly stilled, making Austin uneasy.

"Aren't you the new kid who watches the prisoner with Jerry?" one of the guards asked seriously.

"Yeah but Cash came by and took over my shift," Austin explained calmly, falling into one of the empty seats on the couch. The guard next to him smiled politely and Austin nodded, but the mood was obviously dampened.

"So, whadduyuh think boys? We gotta chance?" Austin asked, trying to start up the mood again.

" 'Course we do!" one of the younger guards argued. "We're the Gotham City Rogues!" His enthusiasm made Austin smile as he reached down for a beer… hoping the other guards would overlook his youthful countenance.

But one of the older guards snatched the beer out of Austin's hands. "Now don't get cocky, boy. Those Monuments ain't nothing to spit at. If those boys don't play it smart today, kiss this victory good bye." The guard then gave Austin a reprimanding look for trying to sneak a beer. Austin looked down at his hands, guilty and regretful. The gentleman was right. Sure, he loved the Rogues but they weren't the best team. They couldn't afford to get cocky.

"Will you two shut it! C'mon man, the games' about to start! Even if the Rogues lose, I wanna enjoy the God damn show!" a mid-age guard complained. He had a point. Why worry about the outcome? Why worry about predicting the future? AS he listened to the announcer chatter excitedly about the game, Austin looked around him, to the life, energy and excitement around him, enjoying the moment of happiness and warmth in this place of melancholy and fear.

As he stood up for The National Anthem, he enjoyed the feeling of belonging and calm. He was in America, he was safe. He was surrounded by stone and men who could protect him if the need arose. And men who he would protect if need be.

He forgot for a moment that this was Gotham City, but the bombs that went off in the middle of the field were swift reminders.

Austin froze as the unimaginable happened.

He watched as some of the Rogues' star players fell down craters created by the explosion. His mouth fell agape and he tried to blink away the scene, expecting the scene to change back to reality, but this was reality. This was a reality that he hadn't created. It just… was.

Once the bombs stopped, Austin watched the tv screen as a large bald man in a mask stepped onto the field.

The room was absolutely silent as the man picked up a ref's headset and placed it on his own head. "Good evening citizens of Gotham…"