"Of course, Edward. We'll get you your puzzle books as soon as it's in the budget," said the attendant as he left one of Arkham Asylum's unique cells. Each cell was uniquely designed for each of its captives, but supplies themselves were scarce. A good many inmates wanted items they could call their own. Yet, the budget seemed tighter than usual. No gifts just appeared out of thin air.
The attendant walked down the hall. Fluorescent lights lit his path in the rather grim hallway. On either side of him, cells were fashioned out of various materials. For instance, Poison Ivy's cell was made entirely of steel. It took a few times before the authorities at the asylum had realized that Ivy could grow plants that burst through usual stone or glass. And, of course, no vegetation of any kind was to be admitted to her vicinity.
"No, Pamela," said the attendant, not even letting the woman behind the bars make her almost daily inquiry. "We cannot allow any plants in your room. But those gardening magazine subscription you asked for earlier this month may be here any day, so just keep waiting."
The Joker's cell down at the end of the hall was formed from a bulletproof Plexiglas. The doctors had decided that the Joker needed to be under constant surveillance, so the transparent cell was a necessity. The attendant laughed as the Joker lowered his pants and placed his rear against the glass. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," laughed the attendant. "The moon is bright white tonight, Joker."
The attendant moved down the halls checking on each occupant. He smiled and waved at Harley Quinn, who was reading some romance novel. He had a nearly two minute conversation with Two-Face, which was a feat in itself since those conversations were since Two-Face had such a dual personality. Ex-professor Crane was reading some scary story about scarecrows coming to life in rural regions. His recent incarceration had been all over the newspapers. Apparently, Crane had escaped and released one of his infamous fear toxins at one of the mayor's galas. People were insane with fear before Batman broke it up, of course. "Have a good night, Crane," said the attendant.
Finally, the man came across a cell with which he was slightly unfamiliar. He had seen the occupant many times before, but for some reason, he could never remember his name. Not even his alias. The guy was a nut-job, just like the other inmates, but he definitely didn't strike the fear in the hearts of Gothamites like the name Joker did.
He consulted his chart and peered in the dark room. "Umm…is a Mr. Tetch, a Jervis Tetch in there?" He could see a shadow near the window, but for some reason, the lights around the room were extinguished. "Helloooo? I see you there. Answer me, please."
After just a moment's silence, an eerie voice rang out from the darkened room.
"ThE mOoN WaS sHiNiNg sULkiLy, BeCaUsE ShE ThOuGhT tHe SuN HaD gOt nO BuSiNeSS tO bE ThErE aFtEr tHe DaY wAs dOnE."
A shiver ran through the attendant as he gazed down at his clipboard chart. "Ohh…The Mad Hatter, eh? Well, no wonder. That must be a line from Alice in Wonderland then."
"It's Through the Looking-Glass actually, dolt." The voice seemed normal enough when nothing was being recited.
"Okay, okay. I apologize. Moving on." And the attendant walked on through the hallway to finish his rounds.
Meanwhile, Jervis sat on the floor of his cell and gazed out of the window. He reached up and removed one of the bars from his window without much effort. A smile crept across his face.
"Don't worry, Jervis," he said to himself. "They'll know your name soon enough. Everyone will." Slowly, he removed what appeared to be a nail file from underneath his mattress. Slowly, he ground the file across the skin on his right arm until blood came to the surface. His smile grew wider. "Everyone will."