F-E-A-R
By MorbidCheshire
They always said I was crazy.
They were ignorant morons.
Of course, I am in Arkham Asylum at the moment... But that's never been much of a problem for me. I've escaped before. I can do it again. Batman will undoubtedly bring be back; it's the cycle of life. Someday, however, I will rid myself of that pointy-eared pest. The orderlies think they know everything. They feel so important, strutting down the halls, watching us like bugs in jars. They, of course, don't know of my current... enterprises.
They certainly don't know of my current assistant.
Lyle Bolton may have been an extremely sadistic jailer but that doesn't make him useless. He is aiding me by slipping my newest fear drug into my chosen specimen's food. You see, the other orderlies here fear him. A few even admire him. So, they listen when he requests to see the patients' food for "extra medication." It works out quite nicely. Bolton doesn't object because he gets to harm "the scum of the Earth."
And they say I'm crazy? Please.
Harley's POVThe food tastes weird today. Then again, this is Arkham Asylum. Even when I worked here the food was gross. Maybe it's sedatives though, they're always sticking sedatives in our food. It's so rude! I manage to force down the slop, but it takes effort. Blech! Ivy's plant food tasted better than this crud! …Whoa…This is weird… the room's spinning.
Maybe Mistah J's escaped and stuck Arkham on a giant merry-go-round! That'd be cool!…
…That was weird even for me.
"Haaaarleeeey!"
"Mistah J?" I look up. He's right next t' me. "Puddin'!" I move to pounce him, but he snarls and glares at me. Suddenly I'm frightened. Why am I afraid of Mistah J? "I didn't even do anything this time! I swear!" His hands wrap around my throat.
"Get it through your thick skull!" He growls. "I hate you! I HATE YOU! I don't love you, I never have, and I never will!"
"NO! It's not true! You're lyin'!" I squirm and fight. "Boss, you're hurting me!"
"GOOD!" His laugh echoes around me. It used to sound so welcoming, but now it makes my insides twist in fear... I know I'm screaming and crying, and flailing. Where IS everyone? The guards should have been here by now!
"Mistah J, don't do this to me! Please. PLEASE! Let me go! HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"
Red's voice, far away, yelling for me… and Mistah J's laugh…
Scarecrow's POV"NO!" I run to the Plexiglass wall separating me from the other cells and slam my fist against it in frustration. "Not Harley! I meant it to be Hatter!" Lock-up snickers darkly from the cell next to mine. "You incompetent fool, I said Hatter! Not Harley!" I storm over to his wall and glare.
"I know you did, Professor Crane," he snarls back, leering. I stare.
"Then WHY in the name of TERROR did you tell them to give the drugs to Harley!"
"I hate blondes?" He laughs, and I glare harder. "She's the one that got me fired and put in here, along with you. As if I'm anything like you scum!"
"But the drug is untested! She may be damaged!"
"Exactly! It would be a loss to use it on Hatter; he's an idiot. Harley, however…" His cold snicker makes me want to scream, but I can't draw attention to myself. Not while the orderlies are crowding the halls, removing the raving, terrified Harley from her cell. They don't know what's wrong with her, the fools. If I'm lucky, they won't find out.
Ivy's POVI was tending to my plants when the screaming started. At first I tuned it out; everyone screams at Arkham. Then, however, I realized it was Harley's voice doing the screaming. I dropped the watering can and ran to the cell wall. She was raving about Joker… But Joker was seven cells down, far out of her range.
"NO! It's not true! You're lying!"
"Harley! What's wrong?" I call, anxious. She may be delusional, but Harley's never been one to hallucinate.
"Mistah J, don't do this to me! Please! PLEASE! Let me go! HELP! SOMEONE HELP ME!"
Her screaming is almost unbearable. I can feel my flowers shrinking back from the painful sound.
"HARLEY! The Joker isn't in there! You're dreaming! …Or hallucinating! Calm down!" But she didn't- or couldn't- hear me. She was pressed against the cell wall, trembling, clutching her throat and babbling incoherently.
"Harleygirl, what's this I hear about me?" Joker's sly voice rings out from down the hall. An orderly kicks his cell as he passes, a not-so-subtle warning to keep quiet.
"NO!" Scarecrow's cry is muffled by Harley's much louder shrieks, but I hear it nonetheless. He turns to speak with that vile Bolton. Their conversation is inaudible- Harley's screeching drowns it out- but I could catch that chilling laugh anywhere.
"So, Scarecrow and Lockup have something to do with this…"
They say that talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity.
I guess I'm a late bloomer.
((A/N-bounces back- That was fun to write. I think I will continue this! Reviewers get cookies!))