Chapter Two

Green-eyed Monster

His breath came out in small puffs of smoke as he wrapped the coat further around his body. Jim Gordon had grown accustomed to many strange things over the years, as was needed when the police were constantly up against costumed criminals and also when working with a man whom, dressed as a bat, continually defeats these costumed criminals. But there was one thing that Gordon never liked seeing: an innocent victim. As his old eyes met hollow ones he wondered how many more doors he could knock on and tell them their child, husband, wife or sibling was dead. To see a face frown, to pale, to scrunch up in confusion...that was the worst moment for any cop. And yet it was his duty to do so.

"Doesn't this seem odd to you?" Bullock said.

Gordon turned to his old friend with a wrinkled frown. "Isn't it always?"

"Yeah Gotham is full of freaks sure, but this, really? Jim if this is what we think it is-"

"It might not be," he reasoned.

"But," Bullock interrupted, "if it is, what the hell are we gonna do? Because as soon as the press find out about this we've got nothin' to tell them."

Gordon's eyes befell on the girl again, pale as a snowy day and shimmering in the streetlamp's orange glow. He sighed, taking out a cigarette packet and offering one to Bullock before pressing one to his lips. "Well, we're not gonna tell them that there's a vampire roaming around in Gotham City." He lit the cigarette and sucked in a deep, calming gulp of smoke.

"No, we just have a man-sized bat knocking out nutjobs every night," Bullock countered snarkily.

"Hello Detective Bullock."

Bullock swivelled around and fired a bullet. The crack turned into a soft chink as the now crushed bullet fell onto the floor. The Batman's head looked blankly at the bullet before shooting a menacing glare at the sweating detective. "Did I startle you?"

"That's kinda your thing," Bullock replied nervously, "I'll leave you two to it Jim….I think I need a drink."

With Bullock gone Batman hopped down from the streetlight and began studying the victim. Jim knew better than to intervene. If they wanted to find the killer he had no choice in the matter, his faith in the police had spiralled since the appearance of the dark-cloaked vigilante so many years ago. Commissioner or not he knew that they were helpless without Batman.

"Well?" Jim asked gruffly.

"Her name is Evangeline Sprocker, twenty-two years old, junior librarian at Gotham's library. No sign of a struggle but…"

"But two punctures on her neck," Jim finished grimly. "I'm willing to believe anything, but vampires in Gotham?"

"Copycats? Cultists? There's always an explanation."

Jim chuckled roughly. "Try explaining to the mayor that The Batman isn't a public menace then talk to me about there always being an explanation."

Batman nodded his head knowingly. The only apology he could give. "Have there been other victims similar to this?"

"Just one. A teenager a couple of weeks back but while he was drained of blood there wasn't puncture wounds. All forensics could find was a small incision in his arm." Jim's face soured. "Don't you usually have a sidekick with you these days?"

"He's...resting." Batman answered coolly.

"Right."

"Any connecting factors?"

Jim raised an eyebrow. He knew that the boy wonder was always a touchy subject with the Bat no matter which Robin it was, but he couldn't press on the matter with more potential victims in his mind. "Nothing. Both were different ages, race, background. If anything the only connection is that they both had green eyes."

"Green. You're sure?"

"Unless one miraculously changes to another colour, yes."

Batman pulled a bizarre-looking contraption from his belt, the yellow vibrant in the darkness. "I promise these killings will stop."

Jim snorted. "Everytime you say that you turn up at GCPD with a new costumed criminal."

"There's always one more."

Batman fired the contraption and out shot a metallic hook towards a building. Up and up he went, without a goodbye, and disappeared into the darkness. Jim knew better than to protest. Dawn began to poke its golden head up from Gotham's waters.

"Officer," Jim said, "go find Miss Sprocker's family's address."

"Would you like me to tell them, Commissioner?"

Jim shook his head. "No I'll tell them."

There's always one more, Jim thought numbly, always someone's child.

"You're not serious about this?"

"I am completely serious," Sharp replied as he sauntered down the corridor, followed closely by a scurrying Adrien.

"Restraining one of the patients is one thing but watching four of them in one room? I can't do that on my own!"

"Dr Leland and Dr Kellerman will both be there to conduct the session and there will be a second orderly there to assist also. I thought you would have jumped at the opportunity to show your significant capabilities with the patients."

"A group therapy session with four high-security patients is not what I had in mind."

"Come, come Adrien my boy. This is the exact experience you need, who knows, perhaps you'll be in charge of all your fellow colleagues one day. If you impress me."

With that Sharp patted him on the shoulder and waddled towards his office. Adrien stopped dead, feeling somewhat faint, but pushed himself to remain calm as he went to collect the patient he was assigned to take to this group therapy session. Partly he was intrigued to finally meet the proclaimed 'prince of puzzles' and outside of his deathtraps he was, frankly, harmless.

He knew why Sharp was doing this. In a day or so he would have been at the asylum for a month and so, surviving past that, he would prove Sharp wrong. And he guessed Sharp wasn't the type of person who liked being proved wrong. A group therapy session was either a way to scare him off or get him killed. Brilliant.

"Alright Nygma," Adrien said, "time to go."

Edward Nygma lazily turned his head to look at him, sighed, and rested it back onto the rock-hard pillow. His bed was clean, neat, folded and wrapped perfectly which contradicted with the green-painted scrawls on the walls and smears of question marks. Some looked new while others were crusted and aged. Surely someone cleaned it up?

"I think I would like to skip today's theatrics," Edward said.

"Come on now Mr Nygma, if anyone enjoys theatrics it's you."

"And how, good man, do you know that?"

"Simple. I googled you. Now can we please hurry up?"

Edward slid his whole body around to face him then, feet barely touching the cold, tiled floor. He was quite dishevelled and severely drained without his green three-piece suit, Adrien thought, though his eyes still sparkled with maniacal mischief. "How about a riddle?"

"No riddles," he answered firmly.

"If you have 'googled me' as you so put it, then you know by answering one of my riddles correctly I will think higher of you. Perhaps I will become less of a bother as you escort me to the drawl these people call therapy."

Adrien crossed his arms and sighed. He noticed the armed guard beside the cell was becoming restless. A restless man and a loaded gun was never a good mix. "Alright, one riddle."

"If you have me you want to share me, but, if you share me you no longer have me. What am I?"

For once in his life Adrien was thankful his sister enjoyed word puzzles. Ever since they were children she had a puzzle book cupped in her tiny hands and while he did not care for them at least he recalled the answers that she would excitedly tell him once he had given up. It may have just saved his life right now. "The answer is a secret. Easy."

"Now, now, now I don't think two large egos could fit into such a small space. But," Edward paused to dramatically stand up and raise his arms, "a deal is a deal and if anything I am a man of my word. Take me to this wasted attempt at enlightening my dark soul."

He did keep his word and didn't cause a fuss on the journey towards the group therapy room. He did, on the other hand, chatter and babble the entire time. For a moment Adrien almost prefered Zsasz and his silence but at least Nygma was unlikely to try and slice his throat. Talk him to death? Probably. He knocked and once he heard the confirmation to enter he stepped inside and froze. His eyes jumped to each patient: Harley Quinn, Jervis Tetch and Jonathan Crane. His eyes seemed to linger longer on the disgraced doctor before he blinked and the previous hesitation washed away.

Much like the rest of Arkham the room held a rundown appearance without actually falling apart. Grey walls, school-like chairs that rocked back harshly if you leaned slightly, and a stiff odour of mild damp. They really needed more funding.

"Hey Mistah E!"

"Afternoon Miss Quinn. Jervis and Jonathan it's always a pleasure."

"If only it was likewise," Jonathan answered sourly.

Edward pretended to be offended as he took his chair beside him. It was quite a believable performance judging by the uncomfortable looks from the doctors and orderlies alike. He waited with a pout on his face.

Adrien walked over and undid the restraints on his hands, as was the rules in the asylum, and then took his own place beside the other orderly against the far wall. He was a middle-aged man, bald, and trembling as he scooted closer to him. It was no surprise that he had been the one to escort Crane to the room, the poor man.

"You two may leave," Dr Leland spoke confidently.

"No can do," one of the armed guards replied, "Sharp's ordered them to stay with you."

"And do what exactly? There will be no trouble here. These patients know better."

"That we do Doctah Leland!"

The guard shook his head. "Sharp's orders. They stay." He left the room with his partner close behind him. Now all that separated the patients from attacking the two doctors were Adrien and the trembling orderly. Somehow he doubted it would end well if any of them decided to be violent.

"We won't be any trouble, promise," Harley spoke cheerfully.

"I know you won't Harley," Dr Leland smiled warmly at her like an old friend. "Fred if you'd like to leave I won't stop you." The orderly patted him on the shoulder, whispered good luck, and left the room as casually but as quickly as he could. It was now just Adrien against four high-security patients...the day was getting better and better. "Adrien if you-"

"I think I would like to stay Dr Leland."

"I don't think so," Dr Kellerman growled.

"Stephen it's up to him, if he wishes to stay he can. Grab a chair and sit here please."

He was in a sort of haze as he did what she commanded and sat down beside her. Now that he was facing the four of them he realised every pair of eyes were staring back at him. He swallowed nervously; he hated the spotlight at the best of times. Suddenly leaving sounded like a good idea-

"March Hare had a run in with a fierce rose. He did, he did, he did!"

Silence. Many curious eyes landed on him again. Damn.

"Do ya mean Red?"

"It is not like we have an abundance of plant-based humanoids to choose from," Jonathan mumbled.

"Now, now-"

"Don't be a meanie Doctah Crane!"

"Yes quite right," Edward chimed in with a flourish of his hair, "just because you're a grouch doesn't mean you can hurt her feewings."

"Edward that is hardly helpful-"

"Just because your narcissism and superiority complex automatically puts you above her does not mean she can ask such wasteful, and frankly, idiotic questions. It only lengthens my suffering of being put in this laughable session with the likes of you."

And like that the room burst into thunderous voices of equally strong-opinionated people. All order was lost in a matter of seconds. Adrien shrunk into himself, frozen, knowing he should have tried to do something to control the situation but all that confidence and experience abandoned him. It was like being in that classroom again. Flashes of a small number of peers: loud, unruly and eager. And then him. Sat with his legs and hands clenched, silent, as he waited for the daily battle to end. When he came back to the present it was only Harley and Edward arguing with Dr Leland standing in front of them as a sort of referee. Dr Kellerman was nowhere to be seen and Jervis was gone too. His clouded eyes focused on Jonathan, who, with bright blue eyes of ice, held a shred of a smirk on his thin lips. Adrien blinked. No, the disgraced doctor was looking at him. And smirking.

Dr Leland suddenly appeared in front of him and blocked Jonathan from his view. She spoke breathlessly, "this session is over. Take Harley back to her cell, please."

"O-of course," Adrien answered. He stood up and realised he would have to pry Harley off of Edward's hair before he could actually restrain her...

Once Jonathan was back in his own solitary cell he let out a long sigh. He was proud of his little disruption and it meant he could focus on Adalric's reactions to the whole debacle. It wasn't a shock to see that confidence slip away from him, after all, he was just an ordinary man amongst four high-profile criminals bickering. Well, he supposed three as Jervis was still lost to his delusions. But. It was not fear he saw, it was something far more subtle, more hidden beneath the surface. Anxiety. Jonathan rubbed at his growing stubble as he laid down on the bed, the rusty creaks filling the silence. Anxiety was common, incredibly common, but even in a psychiatric ward in Berlin there must have been similar occurrences...so why did that anxiety spring forth?

And then the stutter.

Oh that delicious stutter of a man becoming aware of the severity of his role. Of the sheer danger of being so close to insanity while he himself was sane. For now. He mused on every motion, every gesture, every spark of human complexity that Adalric had shown in those few seconds where he could observe without anyone's knowledge save for Harley and Edward. It was clear the past was the cause, again, relatively common as he himself had become his persona due to his own past. Something in him desired to continue observing and collecting despite it all appearing so ordinary on the surface. He wondered what was the story behind Adalric Sarkissian. As far as he could assume there was more to him than an orderly from one of Berlin's psychiatric wards.

He wondered, in Tetch's own words, how far down the rabbit hole Sarkissian could fall...

Not sure if I'll include shipping in this...though I'm open to suggestions (particularly for Adrien) but otherwise finally a peak into the 'storyline' of this as well as a but more of the Rogues.

Next chapter will include more of the Master of Fear ;)