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.


A few weeks went by, with very little to report. I had basically become a regular in Arkham, as everyone knew who I was and I was getting to become familiar with the other inmates as well. The Scarecrow continued to bolster my fear toxin immunity, subjecting me to one session a week. Although I still was not fond of the "treatment," by the fourth time, I found that I had grown immune to the sample size I had the first time, showing that he wasn't bullshitting me. As I said, very little had happened inside the Asylum recently, which seemed unusual to everyone.

We did, however, get some new neighbors.

About a week after my first fear toxin sample, Killer Moth was brought into custody. His cell was next to mine and I guess that was always the case. He was brought in his entire colorful getup: purple and green striped fabric, with an orange cape and a moth-like mask.

"The Dark Knight take you down?" Deathstroke asked.

"He clipped my wings this time, but I will have my revenge!" Killer Moth replied. "And I see you and Scarecrow are here too, so…"

"Hey, I'm just here until I get a job that I want," Deathstroke fired back.

"Always a pleasure, Killer Moth," Scarecrow offered up with his trademark lack of emotion.

The guard escorted Killer Moth to his cell, and then left. "I'd say it's good to be home, but it never is," Killer Moth said. "So what's new here? I see I've got a new cell neighbor."

"That's Carmel Ocean. She's my new assistant," Scarecrow explained to him.

"Pleasure to meet you. I'm Drury Walker, but you can call me Killer Moth if you wish."

"The Bat must be really locking down Gotham. Who's still out there? Black Mask and Two-Face? Anyone else?" Deathstroke asked.

"I don't think so. The street's pretty empty these days," Killer Moth answered. "I wasn't really even planning anything major. Pretty sure Batman just came to jail me."

"Something is afoot. Some of the more explosive villains are intentionally not escaping," Scarecrow observed.

"It has been quiet," Deathstroke agreed.

I personally, would never call Arkham Asylum quiet, but if he meant that there had been no massive riots or escape attempts recently (since I had been here), then, sure, it had been "quiet."

"Well, I'm going to get out of here as soon as possible," Killer Moth responded matter of factly.

"Of course," said the Scarecrow soothingly, although I could tell he doubted it immensely.


Two weeks passed until another new arrival appeared, much to our surprise. I now had neighbors on both sides of my cell upon the arrival of Dr. Kirk Langstrom. We were all a bit perplexed as to why he was here. I, of course, didn't know every supervillain, but it appeared that Scarecrow, Deathstroke, and Killer Moth didn't know who he was either.

Langstrom looked to be an unassuming middle-aged man, who was balding at the top of his head. He had developed a scruffy mustache and beard combination, most likely due to not shaving the last several days. However, he had massive bags under his eyes, which were horribly bloodshot.

The guard led him into his cell. "Turned into a giant bat and killed his wife. Batman took him down. He might be out of it for a few days, but you guys should be fine." He then immediately left.

"That's a comforting thought," I retorted. "We'll probably be fine."

"A bat? Doesn't he know that I've already got the flying animal shtick covered?" Killer Moth asked indignantly.

"Or that, you know, Batman is around?" Deathstroke added.

"Turned into a giant bat? How did he accomplish this?" the Scarecrow mused.

"Hello there, stranger. I'm Slade Wilson. What's your name?" Deathstroke began, perhaps a bit facetiously.

But Langstrom merely looked up and mumbled some intelligible words, with palpable fear in his eyes.

"He looks like you gassed him, Scarecrow," Deathstroke commented.

"Indeed. I'm very interested in him," Scarecrow replied.

Langstrom was incoherent the rest of the day, much to all of our disappointment. However, all of our questions were answered the next day. Langstrom received a rather special visitor, Dr. Iverson, one of the higher ups at Arkham. Before his arrival, armed guards came and locked us in our cells, normal protocol when a doctor or someone similar came to visit. Iverson looked to be in his mid-fifties, with salt and pepper gray hair. Iverson wore glasses and had a graying moustache as well. Two armed guards accompanied him.

Upon seeing Scarecrow, he gave him a curt nod. "Dr. Crane."

"Dr. Iverson," the Scarecrow responded somewhat cordially. Clearly, the men knew each other. Mental note to figure out how later.

"Kirk. Can you hear me, Kirk?" Iverson asked.

Langstrom squinted his eyes, trying to see whom it was talking to him. "Who are you?" he asked in a hoarse voice.

"I'm Dr. Iverson. How are you feeling?"

"Very sore. What happened? Where am I?" Langstrom asked.

"You're in Arkham Asylum. Do you have any recollection of what happened?" Dr. Iverson asked.

"No. The last thing I remember was testing my DNA splicing on myself."

"You turned into a giant bat," Dr. Iverson said rather bluntly.

"I did?"

"The splicing caused some sort of effect in you that completely transformed you. You were a literal man-sized bat. Take a look." Dr. Iverson handed Langstrom a picture. I couldn't see it, because my cell was next to Langstrom's.

"Oh my God," Langstrom responded, mortified. "Did I hurt anybody?"

"You did, Dr. Langstrom. That's why you're here. Batman synthesized an antidote for you and forced you to take it, which returned you to your human state."

"How many people?" Langstrom pressed.

"You killed three…during your flight around Gotham."

"Anyone else?"

"Dr. Langstrom, I'm sorry, but…you killed your wife as well."

"Francine? She was with me when I experimented," Langstrom recollected, the memory slowly coming back to him. "And I killed her?"

"Blunt force trauma to the head. You must have sent her crashing into something." Dr. Iverson produced another photo.

"No, no, I don't want to see it," Langstrom replied, his voice choked up. "My sweet Francine," he cried to himself.

"There's more, though. Batman sent the GCPD word of the body to collect, but when they arrived, she was gone."

"What?"

"Your lab was more destroyed than before and there was no sign of Francine. The words 'Forever, my love' were written on a mirror in blood."

"What happened?"

"Batman believes that her injuries led her to become infected by your serum and reviving her. We have no idea where she is currently. That's all I have for you."

"Thank you, Dr. Iverson. There's still hope for Francine."

While all of us were shocked at the news, I cannot imagine how Dr. Langstrom felt about the whole thing. Here was a perfectly normal man who suddenly had four deaths, including his wife's (maybe), on his hands. I wouldn't have the chance to interrogate him myself, though, as Dr. Iverson moved on to my cell.

"Carmel Ocean, correct?" he asked.

"That's me, doc."

"If you could come to my office, I need to speak with you. Alone."

That last bit frightened me, though I wasn't sure why. Dr. Iverson didn't seem to be malevolent, and only had a reputation of being strict. "Of course." The guards led me away, taking me into the maze that is Arkham with Dr. Iverson. We eventually arrived to his office. The guards remained outside as we entered his office. I presumed this meeting was some kind of check-up on me, since I hadn't met with any staff member since my arrival.

"Please sit down." I sat in a chair across from his desk, and he settled in on the other side. "I just wanted to see how things have been going for you. I'm terribly sorry that you are stationed here at the Asylum, but the damage to Blackgate from the fire was rather extensive," he droned on.

"Well, I'm still here. I've been as good as you can be for someone in jail with a bunch of supervillains," I retorted.

"I see." He adjusted his glasses. "You have behaved rather well here, and that has not gone unnoticed. Due to the combination of your good behavior, your status as a first time offender, and the Blackgate situation, it has been decided that your sentence should be reduced to two months. Thus, if I'm not mistaken, you now have one month left."

"Thank you," I responded professionally. I didn't want to overplay my emotions. Thank God, I can't wait to get out of this zoo!

"But, I wanted to also talk about something more grave. It has been reported and confirmed that you have been under the Scarecrow's protection since your arrival. Do not think that this comes free. Be very careful with him and what he wants. I shouldn't have to remind you that he is a dangerous psychopath responsible for many deaths," he lectured.

"I'm aware of that."

"Heed my advice and break free of him when you leave in a month. An accomplice to a supervillain gets a year minimum, may I remind you."

"Thanks, dad," I answered facetiously. "Anything else?"

He glared at me icily. "No. Just be rational. Now get out."

"Mmmkay." I rose from the chair and left the room.

On my way back to my cell, I did think about what Dr. Iverson had told me. It was true that I had no endgame with this Scarecrow business. Was I really going to work for Scarecrow after I got out? Did it pay well? It probably had to be better than continuing as a prostitute, right? Now that my sentence was shorter, I'd have to answer these questions much earlier than I expected.

All of these thoughts and more were swirling through my head as I arrived back to my cell and my cellmates.

"What did the good doctor want?" Scarecrow asked me.

"He wanted to check in with me and tell me that, because of my good behavior, my release date has been moved up. I'll be out of here in a month!"

"That's great news, kiddo," Deathstroke said.

"Agreed. The sooner you are out of here, the better. Then we can really get to work," Scarecrow added. I wasn't quite sure what he meant by that unless he was planning an escape for himself. It was possible, after all, Deathstroke said he could leave whenever he wanted, and I believed him.

"While you've been gone, we tried talking to Dr. Langstrom," Killer Moth stated. I looked over to Langstrom and saw that he was softly crying to himself, his face in his hands.

"You broke him?" I asked in an accusatory tone, turning to Scarecrow.

That drew a laugh from Killer Moth. "She knows you too well, Scarecrow!"

"Ignore my flippant companion. I did not do anything. The three of us wanted to ask a few questions, but he broke down thinking about his wife. I do want to interrogate him, though, so perhaps you could talk to him and calm him."

Dr. Crane's reasons for wanting me to help him were purely selfish, but I acquiesced because I did want to help out Langstrom. I walked into his cell, but he didn't notice me.

"Dr. Langstrom?" I offered.

He picked his head up and looked at me. "I'm Carmel Ocean, your cell neighbor.

Langstrom sniffled. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he then took a deep breath to compose himself. "You can call me Kirk."

"Kirk," I replied. "I'm sorry that you've ended up here."

"So am I," he answered with a sigh.

"If you need anything just let one of us know. We're all here for you," I continued, doing my best at saying generic consoling things.

"But…they're supervillains," Langstrom replied, distrustful of the others. Not that I blamed him.

"We're not so bad," Deathstroke offered up.

Langstrom looked at Deathstroke with confusion. "Aren't you that assassin? You've killed hundreds."

"He got you there!" Killer Moth called out from his cell, laughing at Deathstroke.

Scarecrow rose from his bed. "But, of those here, we are civilized. Rest assured, I, nor Slade, Carmel, or Drury will harm you here." He walked over by Langstrom and me and extended his hand. "Dr. Jonathan Crane, Gotham University" he said, as if Langstrom had no idea who he was, which he obviously did.

Not really having a choice otherwise, Langstrom got up and shook Scarecrow's hand. "Dr. Kirk Langstrom, Gotham State."

"Ah yes, the other school. Our rivals," he answered drily. And I swore there was a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Deathstroke and Killer Moth followed suit, entering Langstrom's cell and introduced themselves.

I'm sure it was all very overwhelming for Kirk. I can confirm how strange it is to meet these criminals as human beings and not villains of myth-like proportions. But that's the reality of Arkham Asylum, I guess.


The five of us went to the cafeteria together that night. Crane and Langstrom were discussing things at the lead, with Deathstroke following. Drury and I were in the rear.

"You know, I must say, Carmel, that having you around could be a very good thing for Scarecrow," he began in a low tone.

"You think?" I answered, unconvinced.

"Yes. He's not exactly been the same since…the incident."

I knew what he was talking about. After a run in with Batman, Scarecrow had been grabbed and nearly killed by Killer Croc, hence his physical ailments and restructured face. "What was he like before?"

"Well, he was a bit more impulsive and manic. His voice, for one, used to be higher pitched and far more emotional. He was really a fearsome sight then, cackling madly and running around. But now, not so much. I think the incident sobered him up. Gave him a new outlook on life."

"More sane?" I asked, again unconvinced.

"I don't know. He hasn't done a whole lot since the incident. But his schemes have been more elaborate and thought out, from what I've seen and heard."

"So why me?" I figured if Killer Moth knew Scarecrow this well, he might have insight into why I was picked.

"I think he's finally ready to really step up his game. His most elaborate and dangerous plot of all time. Big enough that he needs help."

"That's terrifying."

"Isn't it?" Killer Moth replied gleefully. Glad to see he's looking forward to it.

We arrived in the cafeteria and found our table. I could see some of the inmates whispering to each other and pointing at Langstrom. News travels fast at Arkham, obviously. We say down, trying to avoid everybody's eyes.

However, that was impossible, as the Penguin waddled over near out table.

"So you're the new guy? You can turn into a bat?" he asked.

"I did, yes," Langstrom replied, looking into his lap.

"What's your name, pal?"

"Kirk Langstrom," was his reply.

"No, nah, that won't do. Let's see. Batman's taken, so how about…Man-Bat? What do you think of that, lads?" Penguin called out to his goons. They all hollered their approval. "So, Man-Bat, stop hanging about these wankers and come join me at the table over there. I'd be very interested in your…abilities."

Langstrom coughed. "I'd rather not, Mr. Cobblepot."

"Ah, come on," the Penguin crooned.

"He said no, Oswald," the monotonous voice of the Scarecrow responded.

The Penguin scoffed. "Very well. This cell group was always a bunch of freaks anyway. Except for you, my dear," he said, turning to me. He took my hand, kissed it, and then shuffled back over to his table, where his boys were waiting.

Penguin then got up and stood on the table. "Regardless, I must propose a toast to our new inmate." A goon handed him a cup, which he raised, and all other inmates in the room followed suit, including other supervillains like the Mad Hatter and Hush.

"This does happen whenever a new villain appears in Arkham," Killer Moth confirmed to me. I looked and saw that Scarecrow and Deathstroke were raising cups, too, so I did so.

"To the Man-Bat!" finished the Penguin.

"Looks like you'll be stuck with that name," Deathstroke said to Langstrom.

"Great," Langstrom answered, shaking his head.

The five of us then continued our meal uninterrupted. In a way, it was kind of nice. They were my Arkham family.

As I lay in bed that night, though, my mind wandered back to my conversation with Dr. Iverson. While I knew Deathstroke and Scarecrow and even Killer Moth as humans, they still were supervillains. Like Langstrom had said, Deathstroke had personally killed hundreds. Scarecrow, too, was responsible for many, many deaths. And even Langstrom had, unintentionally, killed four people. I had never been one of great morals anyway, but I found myself struggling over how to feel about my Arkham family. Deathstroke had always looked out for me, and hell, Scarecrow killed two inmates to protect me. Maybe I should stay with Scarecrow and see what happens. I thought I had a few weeks to think about it. Turns out I didn't.


I'm back! Sorry it's been so long, but hopefully this will tide you over. Thanks to all of you who review/favorite or follow/read this story! Hope you guys enjoy!

See ya real soon,

The Mustachioed Academic