"Fresh meat!"
Chance rolls her eyes as she is led down the hall of cells on the second level in Arkham Asylum. Several male inmates shout and whistle as the guard leads her thru the corridor to the door at the end of the hall.
"Isn't there a better way than thru the guys wing?"
"Sorry Miss, budget cuts."
"Oh is that why you just shove all the level threes together?"
"Yeah. Here we go." They stop at the doors and the guard unlocks it before opening it and pushing Chance into the room leading to the women's wing. The guard nods at a female guard in a secure booth who buzzes the next door unlocked.
He pushes Chance into the next wing and pushes her down the hallway to an empty cell near the middle. He unlocks it and the plexiglas slides open before the guard roughly shoves her inside then locks it behind her.
Chance sighs to herself looking around her bland surroundings, thankful that her wing is remarkably more quiet than the previous one. Just occasional muttering rather than shouting. She sits down on her small bed and leans against the wall.
A few hours later a female guard comes and unlocks her cell.
"Up Thompson. Time to meet your doc."
Chance stands up and walks out of the cell then follows the guard down the hall, to the elevator, then the fourth floor without complaint. A hall of offices await her when the elevator stops. The guard takes her to one of the first offices and knocks. A plaque reads Dr Carver on the door.
Dr Carver opens the door and ushers them in. The guard shoves Chance into a seat across from Carvers desk.
"Just shout if she's causin trouble."
"She won't be."
The guard leaves and Carver turns to Chance.
"Hello Michelle, I'm Dr Carver I'll be covering your case from now on. So, seeing as this is our first session, what would you like to talk about?"
Chance glares at Carver with annoyance. "How about the security, or maybe we could talk about how I was wrongly put here years ago, oh or perhaps we should talk about everyone treating me like I'm about to slaughter somebody?"
"There's absolutely no record of you ever being admitted here. I understand that Crane has gotten into you head but..."
"Yeah he's messed with my head, but only from when he took me from here to when I joined him. He's left me alone otherwise. I was wrongly incarcerated because everybody thought I killed those people Dr Crane did. When I was proven inocent, Dr freakin asshole Arkham kept me here to avoid a damn lawsuit!"
"Perhaps in due time you will overcome Cranes influence."
"I'm not crazy you know. I've never been. I've always known what I'm doing is wrong and I still want to do it. I do the things I do for power. For the first time in my life I felt like I belonged. I felt like I was cared for. So yeah I kill people, but I don't care. I don't feel bad but that doesn't mean I'm a psychopath. I don't lack empathy and I'm not insane. But for now I'll just deal with whatever you dish out. I can take it because I'm not sick."
Carvers smile doesn't falter as she pulls out some white cards.
"Let's try something simple, just tell me what you see." She holds up the first roraschach picture and Chance smirks.
"Spilled ink."
Carver holds up the second one. "What Poe saw when really high."
The doctor struggles to keep her smile as she sets aside the cards. "How about some word association?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Yellow."
"Topaz."
"Green."
"Questions."
"Red."
"Blood."
"Blue."
"Myself."
"Dark."
"Achluophobia."
"Small."
"Claustrophobia."
"Weak."
"Asthenophobia."
"Failure."
"Atychiphobia."
"Shame."
"You. Fun fact, did you know this is Dr Cranes old office?"
Carver pauses slightly concerned. "Why did you say me?"
Chance smiles as she leans back in her seat. "Because that's what you should feel. It's one thing for Jerry to have this office but for him to build a nicer one and leave you this one? You couldn't hope to be as talented as Dr Crane, you aren't worthy of residing here, by staying in this office it's practically a slap to the face."
Carver shifts uncomfortably. "I had no say in what office I received."
"I know. Its more Jerrys fault than your own."
...
Chance is shoved into the second level rec room before the guard slams the door behind her. She looks around looking for some way to occupy her time. Her gaze settles on a couch next to a bookcase. She walks over and studies the books before settling on A Modest Proposal.
They really should read these things before giving them to murderous pyschotics.
With a shrug, Chance sits by herself on the couch and starts to read. A bubbly girl with hot pink hair sits beside her as she absently twirls a lock of her hair. After a few minutes of the girl staring expectantly, Chance sets aside her book, marking her place.
"Can I help you?"
The girl moves closer to Chance with an excited grin on her face. "Hi, my names Candy and...I really really like candy!"
Chance leans against the arm of the couch leisurely. "So what did you want Candy?"
"I haven't seen you before...are you new like me?"
"I was here a few years ago. What brings you to Arkham?"
"Well...as I said I really really like candy...like candy is amazing! Better than anything! But nobody understands. Not my mom, not my brother and not even my boyfriend Blake. Every Friday my family came over for dinner. But last Friday Blakey couldn't understand that I need candy. So naturally when he his my stash, I yelled at him. But long story short, my hands ended up around his neck. Of corse my mom had bad timing and...saw me. So I grabbed a knife and... Here they give me all the candy I want to keep me good."
"That's nice." Chance opens her book, bored.
"Yeah."
Someone enters the room behind the two girls across the room. Candy looks at the door excitedly.
"Isn't that that that guy from the news? The weird hat guy?"
Chance bites her lip and reluctantly looks across the room to see that sure enough, Jervis Tetch is walking to the bookcase. She burrys her face in her book as Candy runs over to him.
"Hi my names Candy and I really really like candy!"
"It's a pleasure my dear."
"I'm new."
"I gathered that. Would you care for a game of chess?"
"Sure...but I don't know how to play."
"Then please allow me to teach you."
They walk over to the chess table on the other side of the room and Chance let's out a sigh of relief.
...
As she waits patiently in the line for lunch, Chance looks around in intrest.
"Next."
Chance steps forward and is handed a tray with a sandwich and a questionable gray mush. With a shrug to herself she surveys the area for a seat. After weighing her options, she walks over to a table empty except for a girl lightly shaking with white blonde hair. She takes the seat across from her and proceeds to start on her sandwich.
After a few minutes another girl sits down beside Chance. She eats her meal in silence until she screams at the top of her lungs.
Chance nearly falls out of her seat in surprise. She glances across the table at the other girl who is unfazed by this.
...
Chance crosses her legs absently as she stares at her doctor during therapy. Dr Carver looks at her with concern across her face.
"Now Michelle, today I'd like to discuss a rather difficult topic. If you can't handle it, we'll move on. Are you ready?"
"I guess."
"Good. Now keep in mind this is a safe envirnment."
"Yeah. Get on with it already."
"Alright. Has Mr Crane..."
"Doctor."
"His liscense was revoked. Has he ever... hit you?"
Chance shrugs. "Once...or was it Scary? I can't remember. It was years ago and he was pissed."
Dr Carver frantically writes on her notepad.
"So you have a history of abu..."
"No. It was once. Dr Crane is against physical abuse. He doesn't hit me because he doesn't want me cowering every time he comes near me. It's counter productive. Besides, I'm completely loyal, I respect him and look up to him. As weird as it sounds, he doesn't want me afraid of him. Or anything for that matter."
"Michelle, therapy is a means to help you."
"I know. There's nothing left to fix. Dr Crane helped me more than you can imagine."
"He took away your guilt, empathy..."
"I still feel bad for people. Just not the same people as you. I don't like seeing the people I care about get hurt. As for guilt...what do I have to feel guilty for if I believe in what I do?"
Carver shifts uncomfortably. "I believe he turned you into..."
"A moral blank slate. I know. It was a happy accident."
"Why don't we change the subject? Let's talk about your mother."
"Dead. Next subject."
"Did you kill her?"
"...Yes."