—Chapter Four—
BADLANDS
The exercise programme in the Asylum is a very misleading name. In fact, it is a room about the size of a small town hall and inside it are 2 armchairs, 2 deck chairs and a small round table made of clear plastic. Inmates are free to walk around the hall and "bond" with one another. Things work differently in Arkham.
It was Flint who was the last to enter the exercise hall. He was calmly pushing his hair backwards and then he straightened out his loose jumpsuit. It hung pathetically off him and the guards looking at him were reminded of when a duvet falls too far into its cover. The entire room seemed to come to a standstill and a deathly silence fell over it as Carlyle's wraithlike presence became known. Two-Face and Scarecrow were sat at the small round table discussing politics. The Riddler was reclining in a deckchair with his eyes shut securely as he struggled to solve a mental puzzle that he had created. The Joker simply stood against a wall with one foot propped up against it. A deck of cards spun and twisted from one white hand to another. He was grinning a foul grin that showed off his murky yellow teeth.
The two guards who stood in their white scrubs looked at each other cautiously and then split up. One walked around the back of the room next to Two-Face and Scarecrow while the other walked around the front, near Carlyle. The silence soon faded away and the inmates resumed their activities. With the exception of The Joker whose green, bloodshot eyes never wavered from Carlyle's.
"Come here, little boy." The Joker whispered to himself and stifled a quick snigger. From his deckchair, The Riddler's eyes snapped open and he looked from The Joker to Carlyle with a nervous sweat rolling down his neck and back. He leaned forward so his elbows were balanced on his knees and he silently prayed that Carlyle would not go near The Joker.
"Flint." Said Carlyle approaching The Joker, his hand outstretched as a sign of mock friendship. "It's nice in here, huh?" The Joker laughed. Or coughed. Perhaps both. It was Carlyle's understanding that if he were to survive in the Asylum walls he would have to make friends and fast. The Joker seemed like a good place to start.
"I know all about you. Heheh." Giggled The Joker sadistically. "You've done some fairly tame things, haven't you?"
"Tame?" Carlyle asked with genuine confusion, the first time his voice had trailed from its usually ice-cold tone.
"Tame, yes. I heard you stabbed a child in the back. I gassed an entire Kindergarten! That's roughly thirty kids, in case you were wondering. There's certain rules in this place, Flint." The Joker turned and coughed into his palm. A single fleck of blood cascaded down from his lips and splashed in a small pool of crimson on his bone-white palm. He didn't deliberate much over it and continued his staring contest with his new friend. "You see, Arkham Asylum works on a hierarchy. At the top you have the worst crimes and at the bottom… we have you. You ask any of these guys," he threw a casual thumb across the room. "And they'll claim to be on top. But it's me on top, understand? It's me. Don't forget it." He looked around the room with his dark green eyes, smiling for no reason at the inmates before him. "You fought The Batman yet?"
"I've not had the pleasure." Flint replied mechanically. Most people who talk to The Joker fall to their knees and weep because of his reputation and his appearance and his general attitude. But Flint… Flint grew bored. A dull thumping pain hammered into the back of his skull and in the same way a black cloud rolls in front of a yellowing moon, his eyes misted over and turned into a dirty white. They targeted The Joker's eyes and gazed through them. The Joker stared back and revelled in the fact that Carlyle's usually fatal stare had no effect on him. Carlyle was confused when his eyes faded back to normal.
"Mistake." The Joker muttered and shuffled over to the table to join Two-Face and Scarecrow who seemed less than welcoming.