Disclaimer-goodness: I do not own Batman, or anything in the DC universe.
If I made money on this I wouldn't put it where it could get me in trouble,
so worry not, corporate executive types! I am gaining nothing from this but
spent time, a sense of accomplishment, and a little admiration!
Part Two : A Serious House
The door creaked open, and light poured down on the shivering wet figure huddled next to the now-open doorway. Sharona wasn't sure how long she'd been down there, but when she'd woken up she was already sniffling a bit, apparently having caught a cold. She supposed she'd been awake for hours by the time her psychiatrist, Dr. Richard Fenton, finally opened the heavy wooden door and let some light and warmth down on her. He tutted, gesturing for the two guards at his side to lift her up to face him. He grinned into her pale face, leaning down a bit to do so.
"Are you in a chatty mood, Miss Kissinger?" Her eyes opened slightly, flicking towards his face with a look of absolute disgust and hatred. Of course, Richard's smile only grew wider. "I see. If you're not in the mood to talk after lunch, I'm going to have to-"
Faster than one would have thought possible for a girl so thin and weak, she grabbed the wrists of the men holding her, yanking them behind her and throwing them off balance. She threw a punch at the doctor, knocking him onto his back. By the time he was on his feet Sharona had started sprinting down the hall.
Richard frowned, looking down at the guards. One had fallen down the stairs, the other was sprawled on the floor, his arm wrenched out of the shoulder socket. Perhaps, he considered, sedatives might be in order.
Sharona ran down the hallway, her wet feet smacking lightly against the linoleum and her wet hair sticking to her forehead. She looked up, watching the guards at the corner run toward her as if in slow motion. A blur and a few dulled noises later, she is running down the hall again. She frowned slightly, her breathing harsh from her cold and lack of food, and wondered how the hell she was accomplishing all this. The girl barely knew how to throw a punch in her real life, but-
But Sora's headgoblins, they help her in situations like this. I almost forgot.
She continued onward, turning another corner. In her mind's eye she saw it happen before it actually did, four huge guards setting after her at once, tackling her to the ground. She struggled to free herself of them, crying out a little as one forced a hypodermic needle into the thin skin just above an artery in her neck. She gasped a little, her thin body falling limp as the sedative took effect. Her vision dimmed, and she slipped into unconsciousness.
When Sharona awoke, the first thing she noticed was that she was not in Sora's cell. The second was that her body was confined to a straightjacket. She struggled a little, wrinkling her nose as she realized that she had drooled a bit on herself.
"Do you know what you did, Sora?" Richard asked, leaning down to wipe away her drool with the corner of a handkerchief. "You broke the arms of three guards, and pulled the arm of one right out of the socket. The man you threw down into that basement broke his ankle in the fall, as well as receiving a light concussion. You took out five of our staff within the space of five minutes."
"I wasn't keeping time," she said softly, yanking her face away from him. She didn't see the smile on his slightly bruised face as he realized that he'd have her speaking during this session.
"Did you think you could just run out of here, Sora? Did you think that you could somehow make it out of here without my consent?" His voice turned silky, and his hand came to rest on her shoulder. "If I do not deem you sane, you will stay here for the rest of your life. I will see to it personally." His grip on her thin shoulder tightened somewhat, and he grinned a bit as she winced. "Or, you can cooperate with me."
"Not if you were the last living being on the face of this planet, assface," she snarled, ignoring the slight pain in her shoulder. She glared up at him, still feeling a bit sick and weak. He took note of her apparent health, releasing her shoulder.
"You don't look too good, Kissinger," he stated happily, his tone swinging from serious to light in an instant. "You hungry? I bet you haven't eaten since, oh, breakfast a few days ago, is that right?"
Sharona blinked, looking up at him with a bit of confusion.
"I don't know. I don't know, was I really out for that long?" she asked softly, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. He nodded, picking up a notepad and a stack of cards.
"Word association," he smiled, looking a bit like a shark with his toothy white grin. "I say a word, you say the first thing that comes to mind, alright?"
"Go for it," she said calmly, eyeing him. He frowned a little, which made her happy inside. He wanted her to protest, to refuse to participate, for whatever sick reason. She settled herself down, watching him with a placid gaze. She could be a shark too.
A sleepy, lazy shark.
"Alright, the first word is, transit."
"System."
"Machine."
"Factory."
"Electric."
"Avenue."
Richard smiled, jotting some notes down, but inwardly he was confused. Electric Avenue, wasn't that a song?
"Death."
"Goth."
"Pain."
"Royal."
"Sex."
"Bot."
"Excuse me?" her doctor asked, wondering if he had heard her right.
"Sex-bot. You know, a robot for sex," Sharona nodded up at him, her smile weakening.
"Funny. Sora, you're only hurting yourself," he hissed, putting his notebook down.
"I like keeping a sense of humor about me. It's what makes the Joker such an endearing maniac, doncha know."
Richard sighed, frowning angrily. He had so hoped to learn something important, anything that might be useful, but she was apparently out to spite him. He pressed a button on his desk, buzzing the guards outside.
"Here, take her to her cell. Feed her when she agrees to say something useful," he snapped, and the two men- one sporting a black eye- picked her up by the shoulders and ankles and carried her out to her cell. Sharona sighed, supposing that this was some sort of punishment for the bout of anorexia she'd experienced at the age of twelve. She blinked, shaking her head, which felt a little odd suspended horizontally in mid-air. Sora had been the anorexic, not Sharona. She sighed again, wondering why she kept forgetting that she was one and not the other.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she was dumped unceremoniously at the door to her cell. The guard who she had hit in the eye smirked slightly before opening her door and throwing her in, quickly locking the door behind her. After struggling for a moment, she managed to pull herself onto her bed, curling up on her side and breathing harshly for a minute, her small cold catching up with her. Coughing wetly, she closed her eyes, her stomach grumbling from hunger.
Just as she thought she might get some actual rest, the harsh buzzer rang again, and various inmates started filing back into their cells. Pamela glanced over on her way to the cell just across the hall, her lovely features turned in a sort of pouty frown.
"Sora dearest, are you alright?" she asked, pausing in front of the door to her cell. Sharona mumbled something, sitting up with a bleary look on her face.
"I am peachy-keen, Pammikins. I just, um, don't feel too good. I think I'm sick," she said softly, her throat sore. She wriggled a little in her straightjacket, sighing. "How many days ago was it that we talked, Miss Pam?"
"It's been a good three days, honey," Pam said as a guard ushered her into her cell. She leaned against the plexiglass, her green eyes on Sharona. "We just got back from dinner. Why, dear?"
"I should've eaten breakfast that day," she grumbled, leaning back in her bed. "How long is it until the next meal thingie?"
"Oh, Sora," Pamela said reproachfully, seeming a bit saddened. "Why did you piss him off, poor thing? Just play along with your shrink, a good kid like you could be out of here for good behavior within a month."
"I'm not a good kid. I'm a terrible dangerous pirate!" Sharona cackled, giving the redhead a mischievous grin. "I'm some kinda danger to society and stuff, you know, what with being one of those damn starving artists and all. Ahar, me matey, I'm the dread pirate Jack Sparrow. Argh!"
Pamela Isely smiled, sitting down on the edge of her bed. She and the other inmates began winding down to go to sleep, but Sharona was restless. She'd spent most of the past three days sleeping, and she wasn't looking forward to spending another hour or two unconscious. She jumped to her feet, pacing quietly around her room. Her arms felt sore, and her head hurt on one side, a dull twanging ache.
She happened to glance up as a young pregnant woman passed by her cell. Shocked, she didn't speak for a good two seconds, but soon found her voice again. Concerned for the young mother's safety, she called out, her shoulder against the clear plexiglass doorway.
"Hey! Ma'am? Should you be here?" she asked, projecting her voice but remembering to keep it down for the sleeping inmates. The young woman turned, and Sharona found that, like Jason, it was hard to get a good look at her.
"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?" the young mother asked shyly, taking a small step towards Sharona's- Sora's cell. She seemed pretty, although Sharona wasn't sure how she could tell, and was wearing the same colors that Jason had been wearing.
"Oh no, not at all, Ma'am," Sharona replied, tilting her head a little. "But, I'm a little worried for you and stuff. How'd you get in here? I mean, it's like, way after visiting hours and everyone's asleep." The young woman blushed, although Sharona could barely see her face, and took another step closer.
"Actually, I don't think anyone knows that I'm here. I came to visit this little guy's father," she said tremulously, patting her stomach. Sharona's eyes widened, and she smiled brightly.
"Oh, I love babies! I hope you get to visit often after he's born. When're you due?" Sharona chatted, feeling drastically happier. The young woman blushed again, looking aside.
"I'm, um, not sure," she whispered, but Sharona got a strange feeling that she did in fact know. After a moment, the pregnant lady gave a tiny laugh. "Actually, I'm long over-due. This little guy should have been born on the twelfth, but, you know."
"Oh, uh, really?" Sharona asked, biting her lower lip. "What day is today then?"
"I believe it's the fourth," the mother smiled at her, her hand on her stomach again. Sharona beamed up at her, blushing a little bit.
"Oh, thank you. I've lost track of time ever since I lost my daily planner, you know," she joked, looking down. She fidgeted, glancing back up again. "So, um, who's the lucky daddy?"
"Oh, well, you don't know him, I think," the woman said quickly, shaking her head. Sharona got the distinct feeling that she shouldn't have asked. Awkward, she looked down again, raising her face to ask another question.
"What're you gonna name him? Something modern-ish, like Devon or Terry, or something all biblical, like Matthias or Saul?" she chirped, getting a gentle laugh from the lady.
"I'm naming him Jack, after his father. My, you're a funny little girl. Why are you here of all places?" the pregnant woman asked, seeming a little concerned. Sharona sighed, shrugging a bit in her straightjacket.
"You know, I'm not quite sure of that myself. If I did know I'd be that much closer to getting out," she said after a moment, wrinkling her nose. "Say, my name's Sha- I mean, Sora. What's your's?"
"Jeanette," the woman giggled, her features lighting up a little before going back to their blurred state. She seemed to be kind of lonely to Sharona, so she decided to pass the time by talking to the woman.
Across the hall, Pamela Isely, a.k.a. Poison Ivy, was having a hard time falling asleep. She sat up, the soft voice of what she at first thought was two young women bringing her to a state of full alertness. She narrowed her green eyes, realizing that the only person speaking was Sora. She opened her mouth to kindly ask the girl to shut her yap, when she noticed how involved in conversation the younger woman seemed to be with a blank area of the hallway. After a few moments of this, she decided to call out to the younger inmate.
"Sora, dearest, who are you talking to?" she asked, one lofty eyebrow raised. Sharona blinked, smiling a little.
"Jeannette. She's visiting her, um, husband? Yeah, heh," she added with a nod, smiling. Pamela's eyes narrowed.
"Well, where is she, dear? There's no one awake but you. And me," she adds with a bit of a pout. Sharona blinked, turning to look at Jeannette- but there was no one there. A look of concern crossed her features as she sat down on her bed.
"She was just here. Did you see her too? Pretty, short pregnant girl, a little shorter than you?" she asked, confused. After a moment, Pamela's kinder inclinations took over, and she nodded a bit.
"Of course, dear. She must have left for home, it is quite late, you know," she said, reluctant to lie to the girl- but it seemed so important to Sora that she had actually spoken with a real person. "You should get some sleep, rosepetal," she added gently, sitting down on her own bed with a feigned yawn. "I'll talk to you about it over breakfast, alright? Go to bed."
Sighing, Sharona wriggled under the covers and fell asleep, but it was quite a while before Pamela could stop thinking about what she'd seen and get to sleep on her own.
Part Two : A Serious House
The door creaked open, and light poured down on the shivering wet figure huddled next to the now-open doorway. Sharona wasn't sure how long she'd been down there, but when she'd woken up she was already sniffling a bit, apparently having caught a cold. She supposed she'd been awake for hours by the time her psychiatrist, Dr. Richard Fenton, finally opened the heavy wooden door and let some light and warmth down on her. He tutted, gesturing for the two guards at his side to lift her up to face him. He grinned into her pale face, leaning down a bit to do so.
"Are you in a chatty mood, Miss Kissinger?" Her eyes opened slightly, flicking towards his face with a look of absolute disgust and hatred. Of course, Richard's smile only grew wider. "I see. If you're not in the mood to talk after lunch, I'm going to have to-"
Faster than one would have thought possible for a girl so thin and weak, she grabbed the wrists of the men holding her, yanking them behind her and throwing them off balance. She threw a punch at the doctor, knocking him onto his back. By the time he was on his feet Sharona had started sprinting down the hall.
Richard frowned, looking down at the guards. One had fallen down the stairs, the other was sprawled on the floor, his arm wrenched out of the shoulder socket. Perhaps, he considered, sedatives might be in order.
Sharona ran down the hallway, her wet feet smacking lightly against the linoleum and her wet hair sticking to her forehead. She looked up, watching the guards at the corner run toward her as if in slow motion. A blur and a few dulled noises later, she is running down the hall again. She frowned slightly, her breathing harsh from her cold and lack of food, and wondered how the hell she was accomplishing all this. The girl barely knew how to throw a punch in her real life, but-
But Sora's headgoblins, they help her in situations like this. I almost forgot.
She continued onward, turning another corner. In her mind's eye she saw it happen before it actually did, four huge guards setting after her at once, tackling her to the ground. She struggled to free herself of them, crying out a little as one forced a hypodermic needle into the thin skin just above an artery in her neck. She gasped a little, her thin body falling limp as the sedative took effect. Her vision dimmed, and she slipped into unconsciousness.
When Sharona awoke, the first thing she noticed was that she was not in Sora's cell. The second was that her body was confined to a straightjacket. She struggled a little, wrinkling her nose as she realized that she had drooled a bit on herself.
"Do you know what you did, Sora?" Richard asked, leaning down to wipe away her drool with the corner of a handkerchief. "You broke the arms of three guards, and pulled the arm of one right out of the socket. The man you threw down into that basement broke his ankle in the fall, as well as receiving a light concussion. You took out five of our staff within the space of five minutes."
"I wasn't keeping time," she said softly, yanking her face away from him. She didn't see the smile on his slightly bruised face as he realized that he'd have her speaking during this session.
"Did you think you could just run out of here, Sora? Did you think that you could somehow make it out of here without my consent?" His voice turned silky, and his hand came to rest on her shoulder. "If I do not deem you sane, you will stay here for the rest of your life. I will see to it personally." His grip on her thin shoulder tightened somewhat, and he grinned a bit as she winced. "Or, you can cooperate with me."
"Not if you were the last living being on the face of this planet, assface," she snarled, ignoring the slight pain in her shoulder. She glared up at him, still feeling a bit sick and weak. He took note of her apparent health, releasing her shoulder.
"You don't look too good, Kissinger," he stated happily, his tone swinging from serious to light in an instant. "You hungry? I bet you haven't eaten since, oh, breakfast a few days ago, is that right?"
Sharona blinked, looking up at him with a bit of confusion.
"I don't know. I don't know, was I really out for that long?" she asked softly, her eyebrows furrowed slightly. He nodded, picking up a notepad and a stack of cards.
"Word association," he smiled, looking a bit like a shark with his toothy white grin. "I say a word, you say the first thing that comes to mind, alright?"
"Go for it," she said calmly, eyeing him. He frowned a little, which made her happy inside. He wanted her to protest, to refuse to participate, for whatever sick reason. She settled herself down, watching him with a placid gaze. She could be a shark too.
A sleepy, lazy shark.
"Alright, the first word is, transit."
"System."
"Machine."
"Factory."
"Electric."
"Avenue."
Richard smiled, jotting some notes down, but inwardly he was confused. Electric Avenue, wasn't that a song?
"Death."
"Goth."
"Pain."
"Royal."
"Sex."
"Bot."
"Excuse me?" her doctor asked, wondering if he had heard her right.
"Sex-bot. You know, a robot for sex," Sharona nodded up at him, her smile weakening.
"Funny. Sora, you're only hurting yourself," he hissed, putting his notebook down.
"I like keeping a sense of humor about me. It's what makes the Joker such an endearing maniac, doncha know."
Richard sighed, frowning angrily. He had so hoped to learn something important, anything that might be useful, but she was apparently out to spite him. He pressed a button on his desk, buzzing the guards outside.
"Here, take her to her cell. Feed her when she agrees to say something useful," he snapped, and the two men- one sporting a black eye- picked her up by the shoulders and ankles and carried her out to her cell. Sharona sighed, supposing that this was some sort of punishment for the bout of anorexia she'd experienced at the age of twelve. She blinked, shaking her head, which felt a little odd suspended horizontally in mid-air. Sora had been the anorexic, not Sharona. She sighed again, wondering why she kept forgetting that she was one and not the other.
Her thoughts were interrupted as she was dumped unceremoniously at the door to her cell. The guard who she had hit in the eye smirked slightly before opening her door and throwing her in, quickly locking the door behind her. After struggling for a moment, she managed to pull herself onto her bed, curling up on her side and breathing harshly for a minute, her small cold catching up with her. Coughing wetly, she closed her eyes, her stomach grumbling from hunger.
Just as she thought she might get some actual rest, the harsh buzzer rang again, and various inmates started filing back into their cells. Pamela glanced over on her way to the cell just across the hall, her lovely features turned in a sort of pouty frown.
"Sora dearest, are you alright?" she asked, pausing in front of the door to her cell. Sharona mumbled something, sitting up with a bleary look on her face.
"I am peachy-keen, Pammikins. I just, um, don't feel too good. I think I'm sick," she said softly, her throat sore. She wriggled a little in her straightjacket, sighing. "How many days ago was it that we talked, Miss Pam?"
"It's been a good three days, honey," Pam said as a guard ushered her into her cell. She leaned against the plexiglass, her green eyes on Sharona. "We just got back from dinner. Why, dear?"
"I should've eaten breakfast that day," she grumbled, leaning back in her bed. "How long is it until the next meal thingie?"
"Oh, Sora," Pamela said reproachfully, seeming a bit saddened. "Why did you piss him off, poor thing? Just play along with your shrink, a good kid like you could be out of here for good behavior within a month."
"I'm not a good kid. I'm a terrible dangerous pirate!" Sharona cackled, giving the redhead a mischievous grin. "I'm some kinda danger to society and stuff, you know, what with being one of those damn starving artists and all. Ahar, me matey, I'm the dread pirate Jack Sparrow. Argh!"
Pamela Isely smiled, sitting down on the edge of her bed. She and the other inmates began winding down to go to sleep, but Sharona was restless. She'd spent most of the past three days sleeping, and she wasn't looking forward to spending another hour or two unconscious. She jumped to her feet, pacing quietly around her room. Her arms felt sore, and her head hurt on one side, a dull twanging ache.
She happened to glance up as a young pregnant woman passed by her cell. Shocked, she didn't speak for a good two seconds, but soon found her voice again. Concerned for the young mother's safety, she called out, her shoulder against the clear plexiglass doorway.
"Hey! Ma'am? Should you be here?" she asked, projecting her voice but remembering to keep it down for the sleeping inmates. The young woman turned, and Sharona found that, like Jason, it was hard to get a good look at her.
"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?" the young mother asked shyly, taking a small step towards Sharona's- Sora's cell. She seemed pretty, although Sharona wasn't sure how she could tell, and was wearing the same colors that Jason had been wearing.
"Oh no, not at all, Ma'am," Sharona replied, tilting her head a little. "But, I'm a little worried for you and stuff. How'd you get in here? I mean, it's like, way after visiting hours and everyone's asleep." The young woman blushed, although Sharona could barely see her face, and took another step closer.
"Actually, I don't think anyone knows that I'm here. I came to visit this little guy's father," she said tremulously, patting her stomach. Sharona's eyes widened, and she smiled brightly.
"Oh, I love babies! I hope you get to visit often after he's born. When're you due?" Sharona chatted, feeling drastically happier. The young woman blushed again, looking aside.
"I'm, um, not sure," she whispered, but Sharona got a strange feeling that she did in fact know. After a moment, the pregnant lady gave a tiny laugh. "Actually, I'm long over-due. This little guy should have been born on the twelfth, but, you know."
"Oh, uh, really?" Sharona asked, biting her lower lip. "What day is today then?"
"I believe it's the fourth," the mother smiled at her, her hand on her stomach again. Sharona beamed up at her, blushing a little bit.
"Oh, thank you. I've lost track of time ever since I lost my daily planner, you know," she joked, looking down. She fidgeted, glancing back up again. "So, um, who's the lucky daddy?"
"Oh, well, you don't know him, I think," the woman said quickly, shaking her head. Sharona got the distinct feeling that she shouldn't have asked. Awkward, she looked down again, raising her face to ask another question.
"What're you gonna name him? Something modern-ish, like Devon or Terry, or something all biblical, like Matthias or Saul?" she chirped, getting a gentle laugh from the lady.
"I'm naming him Jack, after his father. My, you're a funny little girl. Why are you here of all places?" the pregnant woman asked, seeming a little concerned. Sharona sighed, shrugging a bit in her straightjacket.
"You know, I'm not quite sure of that myself. If I did know I'd be that much closer to getting out," she said after a moment, wrinkling her nose. "Say, my name's Sha- I mean, Sora. What's your's?"
"Jeanette," the woman giggled, her features lighting up a little before going back to their blurred state. She seemed to be kind of lonely to Sharona, so she decided to pass the time by talking to the woman.
Across the hall, Pamela Isely, a.k.a. Poison Ivy, was having a hard time falling asleep. She sat up, the soft voice of what she at first thought was two young women bringing her to a state of full alertness. She narrowed her green eyes, realizing that the only person speaking was Sora. She opened her mouth to kindly ask the girl to shut her yap, when she noticed how involved in conversation the younger woman seemed to be with a blank area of the hallway. After a few moments of this, she decided to call out to the younger inmate.
"Sora, dearest, who are you talking to?" she asked, one lofty eyebrow raised. Sharona blinked, smiling a little.
"Jeannette. She's visiting her, um, husband? Yeah, heh," she added with a nod, smiling. Pamela's eyes narrowed.
"Well, where is she, dear? There's no one awake but you. And me," she adds with a bit of a pout. Sharona blinked, turning to look at Jeannette- but there was no one there. A look of concern crossed her features as she sat down on her bed.
"She was just here. Did you see her too? Pretty, short pregnant girl, a little shorter than you?" she asked, confused. After a moment, Pamela's kinder inclinations took over, and she nodded a bit.
"Of course, dear. She must have left for home, it is quite late, you know," she said, reluctant to lie to the girl- but it seemed so important to Sora that she had actually spoken with a real person. "You should get some sleep, rosepetal," she added gently, sitting down on her own bed with a feigned yawn. "I'll talk to you about it over breakfast, alright? Go to bed."
Sighing, Sharona wriggled under the covers and fell asleep, but it was quite a while before Pamela could stop thinking about what she'd seen and get to sleep on her own.