Disclaimer: I (obviously) do not own the rights to any Batman characters in this work. I only own Carmel and any other made up characters throughout the story.


The Scarecrow didn't say anything as he led me out of the lounge. He didn't seem to be in a hurry, but clearly wanted to get away from the lounge and all of the rogues inside. I followed him in silence, going through the twist and turns of various hallways. He didn't walk very fast and was hunched over, but walked with a firm purpose. Eventually, we stopped at a set of cells. A security guard with a clipboard approached me.

"Who's this?" the guard asked. He looked to be on the older side, as if he had been at Arkham for a long time.

"Carmel Ocean," I answered.

"She'll be occupying this cell here," the Scarecrow said, pointing at a cell.

"But that's Mr. Norris' cell. He may return from the medical ward."

"He won't. I made sure of that," was the Scarecrow's reply.

An awkward silence followed. Sensing that the Scarecrow was definitive on this, the security guard took a step back. "My apologies, Dr. Crane. Ms. Ocean can definitely have this cell."

I saw the guard write some stuff down on his clipboard. Well shit, I wouldn't want to piss off the Scarecrow either.

"You're all set, Ms. Ocean," the guard told me, and then left as quickly as possible.

That's probably how he's survived this long. At this point, I realized that the Scarecrow and I had not spoken yet. Should I say something, or let him talk first? I wondered.

But I wouldn't have to decide, as Scarecrow then turned to me. It was the first time I got a look at his face proper, as his hood had obscured his face. He face was definitely grotesque; I wasn't really sure what part was his actual face and what part was a mask that had been grafted on. I had heard, of course, that he had a nasty run-in with Killer Croc, but I had never imagined in my wildest nightmares that this was what his face looked like.

Upon seeing my reaction, he smiled maliciously. "Does my appearance frighten you?" he asked in his gravelly, monotonous voice.

"It kind of does," I replied honestly. I was doing my best to hide any fear though. If I'm going to work for him, I've got to get used to this and I certainly can't let him scare me!

"Good." He turned around to face the cell. "My cell is directly across from yours," he continued, pointing one of his skeletal-esque fingers towards his cell. With that, he walked into his cell.

Nothing else to say? 'Cause I have a million questions! But of all the questions I had, the one that I asked was, "What happened to this Mr. Norris?"

"Him? He smashed his head against the bars repeatedly. Babbling the whole time," a new voice called out. I looked to my left and saw someone in the cell next to Scarecrow's.

"Wait, I know you. You're that bounty hunter."

"I'm an assassin. Codename's Deathstroke. And you're Carmel Ocean?" he asked.

"You know me?" I asked incredulously.

He laughed. "Nope. But I do have ears and heard you say your name, kiddo."

Duh. I mentally facepalmed, embarrassed at my stupidity. "Of course. Sorry." I walked towards my cell, and a strong scent filled my nose, causing me to recoil. "What is that smell?" I asked.

"Probably the cleaning solution they used on the bars to get the blood off. They got done minutes before you and Scarecrow returned," Deathstroke replied nonchalantly. He laughed upon seeing my horrified reaction.

Scarecrow then returned from his cell. "This is for you." He handed me a piece of torn burlap. It had been tied into a ring.

"What is this?"

"It's a bracelet for you to wear. That way, the other inmates will know whom you work for," he explained.

Is that really going to work? I wondered to myself, not feeling very optimistic as I put it on.

Sensing my apprehension, he apologized. "For now, it's the best that I can come up with."

"You've never given me a present, and I've been your cell neighbor for years," Deathstroke complained.

Scarecrow turned to face him. "You've never worked for me."

"Put up the money and I will," Deathstroke answered with steely seriousness.

Scarecrow just blinked at him and turned back to me. "Right now, I am in the early stages of my planning. When I need you, I will let you know." He then returned to his cell, shutting the door, which informed me that he did not want to be disturbed.

I headed into my cell. It's bigger than I expected, so that's good. I sat down on my bed, unsure of what to do. I sat there in silence for the next hour or so, trying to take in everything that had happened. Meanwhile, the Scarecrow continuing working on whatever he was doing in his cell. Deathstroke appeared to not pay me any mind either.

Finally, I decided I wasn't just going to sit here bored out of my mind. "I think I'm going to go exploring," I announced to no one in particular.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Deathstroke began.

"It's my first day, and I'm going to go take a look around. If you need me, come get me," I answered, directing my last sentence at Scarecrow. However, Scarecrow said nothing, so I headed out on my own.

There sure are a lot of twists and turns here, I thought to myself. I stopped, trying to think if I remembered the way back to my cell. Once confident that I did, I continued onward. I came upon a different lounge and walked in. There were only two guys in the room, and they were playing pool.

"Hello there," I greeted. I didn't want to appear overly cheerful, but I did believe it was important to make some friends while here, if possible.

The men turned to me. One was exceptionally tall and sported a goatee and mustache. He looked at me first, before grunting to his shorter friend.

"Why hello there, sweetheart," the shorter man began in a syrupy sweet voice. "What can we do for you today?" He had a handlebar mustache, which appeared to be groomed impeccably.

"Oh nothing in particular. I'm new here, and I wanted to look around and meet some people."

"Well, you definitely found us, isn't that right, Thorpe?" he said, turning to his much taller friend. Said man only grunted in approval, saying nothing more. "I'm Jerome Baker, and this is my friend, Thorpe."

"I'm Carmel Ocean. Nice to meet you." I stuck my hand out in anticipation of him shaking it, but instead, Jerome came up and kissed my hand. Yeah, I thought that was kind of weird, but I didn't think too much about it. After all, there were a lot of crazy folks here, right?

"We're sooooo glad you stopped by. It's been quite some time since we've had a lady drop by," a grinning Jerome continued.

Thorpe grinned maliciously, which is what first told me that perhaps I was in some trouble. He reached out to touch my hair, but I swatted his hand away.

"Sorry about that. Thorpe has a thing for blonde hair. What's that on your wrist?" Jerome asked me.

"It's my bracelet that Scarecrow gave me. It's to show everyone that I work for him."

"Is that so?" Jerome didn't seem convinced. Considering that apparently everyone knew that the Scarecrow didn't take minions, I'm not surprised that he questioned it.

"It's true, I swear!"

"Heard that one a million times, dollface." His tone then immediately darkened. "Now why you get on your knees for us and be a good little girl." That comment got Thorpe to laugh and he took two steps toward me, which was way too close for comfort.

"Excuse me?" I shot back, which was code for What the fuck do you think I am, a sex toy? Now I know you're thinking, but Carmel, you're a prostitute! There was no money coming from this, trust me. I have my standards and these guys were nowhere near them.

"Oh come on, we can be friends. You just need to blow both of us. It's been foreeeeever," Jerome purred, taking a few steps towards me.

"That's not happening! I think I better get going," I backed up a few steps.

Thorpe immediately reached out and grabbed me. "I don't think so." Jerome got real close to me and leered. "Man, buddy, we are lu-huh-cky that Carmel decided to drop by, huh?"

I heard Thrope grunt his agreement.

Suddenly, Jerome squeezed my breasts. "And you've got such nice tits, too. We hit the jackpot!"

"You're sick," I spat at him.

He clearly didn't care, however. "That's what the doctors keep telling me! But I think I'm plenty virile. I've raped thirty-two women and still going strong, so I don't think they know what they're talking about." He cackled, a shrill, squeaky laugh.

That was it for me. I need to get the fuck out of there and fast. So I slammed both my elbows into Thorpe's chest, which knocked him off me. He was probably just surprised that someone actually fought back. Now free, I proceeded to punch Jerome as hard as I could right in the face. He went flying backwards, tripping and landing on the pool table.

I took off as fast as I could, out the room, through the maze of halls. I didn't stop running until I reached my cell some five minutes later.

Deathstroke looked up at me. Scarecrow did not. "What happened?" Deathstroke asked.

"I nearly got raped!" I exclaimed, clearly in distress.

"Yeah. That happens. You got away, though, so that's good," he replied. Clearly the response of an assassin who's seen it all and is not fazed by this sort of thing, I guess.

"Who was it?" The Scarecrow's voice called out. I turned to see that he was now right behind me, causing me to flinch.

"Jerome Baker and his friend Thorpe," I explained.

"Oh, I know those two. A pair of assholes," Deathstroke said. "Guess the bracelet didn't work," Deathstroke smugly told Scarecrow.

Scarecrow scowled at Deathstroke. He turned and headed back into his cell, saying nothing else. Immediately, he went back to work.

I headed into my cell and once again sat on my bed. Various emotions and thoughts were running through my mind, jumbling together. I almost got raped. And Scarecrow, my supposed "protector" doesn't even care. Did I make the right choice of villain? What am I going to do with my life?

I continued on in this way for another hour or so, until the old security guard came back. He proceeded to lock everyone's doors for the night and shut the lights off. Now I ain't no baby, but I'm also not a liar. I may or may not have cried my self to sleep softly. I guess no one said prison life was easy, especially at Arkham Asylum.


I awoke the next morning to see that Scarecrow was already up, furiously scribbling away in some notebook. Deathstroke wasn't in his cell, probably off getting some food. My stomach growled. Yeah, I definitely need to go get some breakfast.

"Breakfast is served until 9:00 in the cafeteria," the Scarecrow began, not looking up from his notebook."

"Would you like to come with me?" I asked. Translation: Considering I was nearly raped last time, please fucking come with me.

"I already ate," was his succinct response.

"Okay. I'll head down then." Translation: Fuck you. I headed through the twisty halls and eventually found the cafeteria.

As soon as I walked in, all eyes turned to me. But just as quickly, the eyes were averted, looking to different places. It's almost like they're uncomfortable to see me. Kind of strange, but whatever. I went and got my slop that was supposedly breakfast and found an empty table.

I was there only a few minutes when Chuck Grey sits down next to me. "Hey, how's it going?"

"I'm surviving," I replied.

"Scarecrow, huh? Good choice, love."

"Good choice?" I turned to him. "I still nearly got raped last night! Luckily, I was able to fight them off!" I exclaimed.

"Well, you won't have to worry about that anymore," he said with a chuckle.

I squinted my eyes at him. "What do you mean?"

"You didn't hear? They found Jerome Baker and Thorpe dead in their cells this morning."

"What?!"

"Jerome choked to death…on his own eyes, which he clawed out and were found shoved down his own throat. Thorpe hung himself from his bed sheets, which I thought would be kind of hard, considering how tall he was, but I guess he made it work somehow," Chuck said with a shrug. "Also, he had chewed off his own arm and used it as a pencil. In his blood, he wrote on the floor, 'We're sorry, Carmel.' So I don't think you have to worry about anyone messing with you anytime soon."

I looked at Chuck, horrified at what he had just said. "Who did this to them?"

"I told you, they did it themselves. No one can get into those cells at night."

"How did this happen then?" I was flabbergasted and at a total loss.

"You don't know? Everyone's pretty positive that must have been hallucinating pretty fucking badly. The guys next to them heard them screaming and yelling. That means one thing…fear toxin. And we all know who makes that."

Although horrified at the details, they also satisfied me. A fitting end to those assholes. "Thanks for the info, Chuck. I think I need to go talk to Scarecrow, though."

"Probably." He smiled at me and then went over to rejoin his buddies.

I picked up my tray and headed for the exit. There were two burly looking guys talking to each other in the doorway, blocking the exit. But as soon as I came over and they saw me, or more accurately, my bracelet, they immediately got out of my way. I gave them a curt nod and than wandered back to the cells.

Scarecrow was exactly where I left him. I went into my cell and sat down to eat my breakfast. "So…I heard about Jerome and Thorpe," I began.

He stopped his writing. "And?"

"They got what they deserved."

"I do not deal in justice, Ms. Ocean. I deal in fear. It just so happens that I needed to test out some of my latest toxin that I've been developing here in secret. Our interests merely intersected."

I didn't really believe him, though. He had definitely wanted to make a point to the others, to warn them not to mess with me and I did appreciate that. I guess he does care about me. A small smile came to my lips. Deciding to push my luck, I asked, "Can I ask a question?"

He looked up and turned towards me. "You may."

"What should I call you?" It was a very logical question, and I certainly didn't want to call him the wrong name.

He blinked and nodded his head. I assume that meant he found my question acceptable. "You may call me Doctor or Professor Crane, if you please."

That interested me. I guess he preferred that to Scarecrow. I suppose I would, too if that was me. "One more question: why me? Did our interests intersect there, too?" I stared into his empty eyes. One looked particularly blank, as if it was perhaps blind.

"They did. My upcoming scheme is so grandiose that I will need some help with it. You came at the right time."

Once again, I wasn't sure that I believed him. But I had no idea what he actually wanted from me, if that wasn't the case.

"Any more questions?" he growled.

I could see that he was not yet comfortable with me. But I'm not comfortable with him I reminded myself, so I should cut him some slack. "No."

"Good. I have to go see Dr. Eliot about something."

That name rang a bell to me, but I couldn't remember from where. I saw him get up, which appeared to be more of a struggle than it would be for a normal guy. It was then that I noticed the braces on each of his legs. Must be another result of Killer Croc. He exited his cell and started to head out before I stopped him. "Dr. Crane?"

He turned to look back at me. "Yes, child?"

"Thanks." I didn't have to explain for what, as we both knew.

He nodded and turned around to leave again. He took a few steps before stopping again. "Perhaps…you would care to join me in visiting Dr. Eliot?" he asked without turning around.

I smiled, happy that he decided to include me. "I'd be delighted."


Hey folks! I'm back with another update to the story here. Thank you to everyone who's fav/followed or wrote a review for this piece! I'm excited to see what y'all think of this part here.

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic