Hello again, everybody. I just wanted to take the time to thank you all for stopping whatever you were doing for the day and taking time to read this. And while I would continue this story regardless of views, just knowing that you continue reading this fic is enough to keep me going and motivate me to make this story the best that I can make it. Things have been particularly crazy these past few months, including applying for my first job, a car crash that totaled my poor car (RIP Claire), a big Con in Dallas that I was invited to with my best friends, and a class that I have started today to get some extra credit hours in for my college degree.

But things will be getting better. And no matter what, I will continue to update this story until it is finished, even if it takes a while to think out the details.

Now, enough about my life. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Becky let out a sigh of relief as she left the tiny room, trying to calm herself after she had waded through the rushing flow of doctors, security guards, and curious interns as she made her way into the elevator. Pressing the button to go down, she slowly slid to the floor, still trying to recover from her fight against Croc as she tried to piece together just how she had survived her encounter.

"I wonder…" she murmured to herself, looking down at the floor, her legs sprawled out underneath her. "I wonder if this has to do with the incident a few nights ago?"

She tried to recall the events of that night, but all she could find was a jumbled mess of images and sensations that she couldn't decipher. With a wince, she rubbed her temples, trying to ignore the screeching of the elevator as it made its way towards the autopsy room.

Come to think of it, she thought, sliding herself up, arms instinctively outstretched to hold her balance, despite her functional leg rendering it unnecessary. A lot of things have changed since that night. Even with my new leg, it still doesn't explain my increased senses recently, or those weird dreams I've been having.

She tried to think back, straining her mind to remember the events. But the more she struggled, the fainter the memories seemed.

With a growl, she slammed her hand against the wall, frustrated.

Frustration.

That was all she had been feeling as of late. Everything just seemed so frustrating now. She tried not to show it, tried to keep it hidden, tried to keep it in check. But the more she held it in, the more it just seemed to burst out of her.

It was so hard for her to concentrate anymore. Everything felt so sharp now. So powerful. It just seemed to overwhelm her already exhausted mind and fill it with so many new smells and sights and tastes and sounds that her mind had trouble processing everything.

Becky winced as another shrill screech resounded through the elevator, followed by the soft ding of the elevator coming to rest on the bottom floor.

But when the doors lifted, Becky couldn't hold back a gasp of fright.

For there, standing straight in front of her, was the same boogeyman from her dreams.

"You're not real!" Becky shouted at the being, trying to stop her body from shaking in the presence of this creature. She had faced far scarier things during her nightmarish hauntings from her exposure to fear toxin and didn't shake in fear. Yet one appearance by this thing was enough to send her mind into panic. "I refuse to believe you are real! You're-You're just a figment of my imagination!"

The boogeyman's grin seemed to get wider, as if saying, 'Oh, am I?' before it started to drift away, its empty arm sleeves wrapping around Becky's arm as it pulled her out of the elevator and towards the autopsy room.

Despite it having no strength or weight to move on its own, Becky still felt the sharp, firm pull as it dragged her closer to the glass.

She looked inside, seeing nothing of interest aside from the few coroners performing a biopsy on one of the deceased guards from Joker's last escapade. "What's the point of you dragging me here? I don't see anything out of the ordinary," she said, glaring at the doppelganger in her costume.

Its smile seemed to crease suddenly into a frown, before it slammed her head against the glass, 'Look closer', it seemed to whisper into her mind, before a hazy fog began to engulf the room inside.

"What's going on?" she whispered, turning to glare at the being. "Are you the one behind this?"

It put a finger to its lips, miming a shushing sound, and turned back to watch, its eternal sneer once again plastered on its face.

She tried to squint through the hazy fog as the shadows from inside the room seemed to shift and shimmer with the light, causing her eyes to start playing tricks on her with the abstract shapes.

Suddenly, a thin, bony hand came up, startling her out of her search and sending her crashing to the floor. She looked up at the peeled flesh of the hand scraped fresh blood against the glass, what was left of his skin finding traction against the material as he dragged himself up, revealing its bloody and rotting flesh, the mandible only remaining attached to the head by a sliver of flesh.

Becky tried to scramble back, shaking her head back and forth in denial. "No! You're not real! You're just a hallucination caused by my stress. I-I'll wake up from this any second now!"

She turned away, trying to run back to the elevator, only to find the body waiting right in front of her, its hand reaching out and tangling itself in her hair, its jaw jerking along despite the weak piece of tissue securing it in place.

With a frightened scream, she struck the corpse, her eyes glowing green with panic as she felt the weight of the corpse dragging her down with it. With a snarl borne out of desperation, she yanked against his hold, struggling against the sudden strength it seemed to bear, before grabbing hold of the cold flesh and bone and twisting it off of her, finally cutting its ties with a loud snap as the bones tore away from its torso, leaving just a mangled mush of flesh.

The corpse screamed, shattering the glass around her and making her ears ring, the useless arm dropping to the floor, forgotten. With a snarl, it charged at her.

But this time, she was ready. As the body made its way towards her, she jumped into the air, performing a roundhouse kick that sent its head flying down to the other end of the hall.

Becky panted, hand clutching at her chest as she looked down in horror at the bloody mess on the floor. What was that thing? And how did a corpse suddenly come to life like that? she wondered, backing away from the corpse as the smell of rot finally hit her nostrils, causing her to choke down the bile threatening to rise up from her throat. I have to get out of here!

With a choked sob, she ran from the scene, tears threatening to stream from her eyes. She kept running until she found the costumed doppelganger waiting for her at the end of the room.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered softly, the tears finally starting to trail down her cheeks. She glared at it, her eyes hard with hatred at the floating nuisance. "Are you the one responsible for all this?"

It shook its head, before pointing towards the end of the hallway.

Becky sniffled, wiping her eyes with her arm. "What are you trying to tell me? Is the way out of this nightmare through there?"

It nodded, continuing to point.

"This isn't a trick, is it?"

The being shrugged, its grin mischievous.

"Fine," she huffed at it. "I don't need your help anyway."

With a snarl, she stormed off, leaving her grinning stalker behind as it seemed to giggle at her retreating back.

Crane look down at his prey below, his perch on a gargoyle giving him an excellent view of the business going on down below him. His spindly frame clung to the shadows like a spider, preventing any of his features from being cast on the ground and alerting the nervous security guards. Glancing towards his right, he leaped to another gargoyle, his feet landing with barely a sound as his hands caught the edge and pulled himself up.

So far, so good, he thought, his eyes looking around for the guards. So far, there were only five of them in the area, their forces spread out and searching for him as they cautiously eyed the grates in the floor and the vents in the walls, their flashlights searching for any signs of canisters or tripped aerosol cans that could send fear gas blowing into their faces.

"Isn't it funny how they scurry around like little rats?"

The shock of the voice right next to his ear was enough for Crane to almost lose his balance. With a soft snarl at the hooded figure next to him, he slid around to face him. "I thought I told you to go away."

The Scarecrow chuckled, jumping down off of the gargoyle and onto the metal platform below.

"What are you doing, you idiot?" he hissed, careful to keep from slipping from the statue.

"What does it look like, Johnny-boy? I'm giving you a little helping hand," the doppelganger said, a savage grin on his masked face. "

"Oh, yeah. And how are you going to do that?" he whispered back.

A glint of mischief appeared in the figure's eye. "Just you watch."

With a grin, the figure tip-toed towards the desks.

Mark took a deep breath, trying to calm himself as he watched the security cameras on the laptop on his desk, nervous sweat starting to run down his forehead. From what he had seen on the cameras, the Scarecrow was somewhere in this room, but so far, no one had managed to spot him yet, which left a nervous tension floating in the room like the humidity on a hot summer's day.

He saw something move out of the corner of his eye. With a tense inhale, he switched the cameras rapidly, trying to find out just what he had glimpsed.

He let out a small, almost whispery gasp as he saw something that had haunted his nightmares since he was a child.

It was a life-size mannequin, its features and extremities convulsing madly, its arms and legs bending in ways completely unnatural to the human body.

With a yelp, he switched the camera, his hand over his heart.

"It's okay, Mark. Just breathe. Just breathe," he told himself, a hand clutching at his heart as he tried to calm down. "At least it wasn't like that week at the restaurant with those creepy animatronics. You're fine."

He looked at the monitors again. The crazy mannequin was nowhere to be found. He checked each camera, starting to chuckle nervously to himself.

"Heh, maybe it was just my imagination. I mean, this is Arkham. It's not like it was like that restauran- "He froze as he looked up from his desk, his hands jerking to his side as he let out a startled gasp.

The mannequin was staring straight at him. Its eyes seemed to be glowing a sickly, luminescent yellow.

He laughed nervously, darting for the nearest thing he could pick up, which just so happened to be a box of Cheez-Its. "Um…Cheez-It?" he asked, before he screamed in terror as the mannequin lunged at him, its hands aimed for his throat.

Crane stifled a snicker as the watchman panicked, watching with amusement as the Cheez-It box flew from the guard's hands and into the air, scattering the crackers everywhere. He didn't know what the watchman was seeing, but by the way he was screaming about animatronics and possessed dolls, it was certainly an uncommon fear. Probably automatonaphobia, he thought absently.

But his analysis would have to wait. Right now, with the guards distracted by the distressed man and the security cameras unwatched, this was his chance to find a different spot and release the toxin. Edging off the statue, Crane skittered into an open shaft, easing himself down the hole and onto the bottom floor.

With a quick tug, he pulled a few strands of straw loose that he had stored in his costume's pocket, careful to not break any of the pieces yet. Taking a deep breath, he snapped the straw in half, releasing the scent of his fear toxin –infused straw on the room, scampering up the shoot and into another vent before repeating the process.

It was not long before he could hear the sounds of coughing and screaming as the toxin made its way through the ducts and out into the room. Springing from his hidey-hole, he quickly raced across the room, dodging past the guards as they screeched and clawed at each other in a frenzy, driven temporarily mad by their fear.

With a grin, he disabled the cameras, finally letting a relieved sigh as he sat down, counting how many trophies he had left to place in his pocket. Thankfully, he only had a couple more to place before he could get out of this place and meet up with Becky.

He had just placed the first one down when he heard a high-pitched scream assault his ears, rising above the sound of the other guards' screams to send him stumbling back towards the desk.

Becky! He thought with alarm, his senses heightening as his eyes glowed amber with fear for his love. Without a second thought, he threw the last Riddler trophy he had onto the desk and dashed towards the exit, praying silently to whatever higher power was up there that she was still alive.

Deep down below the earth, far away from the Asylum, Friitawa lifted her head abruptly from her studies, her red eyes gleaming as her ears picked up the sound of screaming coming from far away.

"Hmm, now what could that be, I wonder?" she muttered to herself, a small smile starting to grow across her face. It wasn't just the fact that she heard a scream, although that was a contributing factor. But the scream's tone, its pitch, it sounded very familiar to her. But she couldn't recall from where.

But despite that she couldn't place its owner, the sound of it sent anticipation shuddering through her body.

Becky growled as she slammed open the door to the Morgue, finding herself back into the room after the fifth time of trying to exit.

"What is with this place?" she said to herself, once again back in the empty room, her fingers running themselves through her hair in a nervous habit. "I try to get out, but for some reason, no matter what I do, I keep ending up back here."

She frowned down at her shoes. Nothing was making sense anymore, and the searing pain in her head was not helping matters at all.

A lone camera focused in on her, but she was too distracted to notice.

But she did notice a small, almost whispery sound.

She walked towards the center, trying to find where the sound in the room was coming from.

As she neared the stage in the middle of the room, the sound began getting clearer.

It kept repeating two words, over and over again.

"…and cutting and cutting and cutting and cutting..."

She looked around, trying to find its origin.

"I know you're in here. Come on out," she said, her mouth creasing into a determined grimace, her hands curled into fists.

The voice kept getting louder and louder with each step closer to the center.

When she got to the center, the voice started screaming.

"….AND CUTTING AND CUTTING AND CUTTING AND CUTTING…!"

By chance, Becky happened to look up,

She got only a brief glimpse of him before he launched himself towards her, sending her scrambling back to safety.

The man was bald, but all across his body were the scarred cuttings of tally marks on his skin, so numerous that Becky couldn't count each one. A collar, with the padlock still on, wrapped around his neck and worn shackles wrapped around his wrists, both whose hands held knives. She looked down at his pants. They were the same orange that the Asylum used for those in Maximum security.

She nearly flinched back as his head suddenly snapped towards her, a savage and sinister smile creeping across his lips.

"Hello, plucky Becky," he hissed, his eyes gleaming with lust as he began to circle her.

"Who are you?" she growled, glaring at the man as she began to circle him as well.

He grinned, holding one of his blades closer to his face. "The name is Zsasz," he said, his tongue licking the cool metal of his blade. He saw her look of fear and disgust as he did this, and started to chuckle. "Do not look so frightened, little one. I have not come here to kill you."

Becky's eyes narrowed, her body sliding into a defensive stance. She did not trust this Zsasz person at all. Especially his knives. "Then why are you here, Zsasz?"

"Is it not obvious?"

She shook her head, her eyes never leaving his as they continued to circle.

He started to giggle. "You are not the zombie I was planning to liberate today. But since you are here, I feel obligated to indulge you."

With a maddened laugh, he lunged out at her, his knives glistening in the light as they came closer to her.