AN: Let this be a 'friendly' warning. Hands at your sides, eyes on her face, discussion always about the weather. OR ELSE.

KittyComeHere-I will kill her if she does it again. That's what you said last time. I will gas you if you do it again. You said that last time, too.

Just-Me-and-My-Brain-So help me, one of these days... Nothing will happen. You know it, I know it. We'll just see about that.

Jasmine Scarthing-It was grimy and something needed to be done about it. It had character. It still does, it just doesn't have a giant bloodstain on it anymore.

Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Seen WHAT? Never mind, I don't want to know. As long as I'm not in it, I'm happy not knowing. Just tell me I'm not in it.

Arkham Asylum for the criminally insane is known for its state-of-the-art treatments, affordable treatment plans, Rogues gallery, and its utterly terrible security. It says something about the place that the only effective security guard they had is now an inmate.

Really, there should just be a sign outside that says, 'Arkham Asylum, home of the craziest motherfuckers in Gotham! All are welcome! Come into the light!'

He shouldn't be so snide. After all, it is, technically, his home. It isn't that bad. Sure, the food sucks and the uniforms are itchy, but hey-free flu shots!

He sinks comfortably into an armchair in his old office. The new head has painted the walls a hideous green and there's a picture of a swinging girl who's lost a shoe. He wonders if the good doctor realizes he's hanging eighteen-hundreds porn in his office.

Oh, never mind.

He toys with the mask in his lap and wonders when the Batman will get here. These little takeovers never last for long-the longest one that he can remember was only overnight. But, oh, they're so much fun while they last. All that fear…best medicine in the world.

He stands up and wanders out into the hall. Two guards are lying by the door with their brains blown out. That will stain…

He can hear laughter a little ways away. Some of his fellow inmates are harmless, sent here for lack of anywhere else to go. He considers paying a few of them a visit and decides against it. He has someone else to look for today, a certain Todd Wallace.

Mr. Todd Wallace, recently hired orderly. Single-unsurprisingly-fear of dogs, was up on harassment charges, which were dropped. Shame, really. Prison would have been safer.

There was the sound of somebody protesting at being shoved around, followed by a gunshot. Batman was getting slow, wasn't he?

"Doctor Crane!"

"Hello, child."

"Whatcha need, Doc?"

He pointed one needle-clad finger towards a man in the back.

"That one."

"Sure thing, Doc. Ya know, maybe this'll be the time that Bats doesn't show up."

"Could be, child. Could be."

Two of the lesser inmates take hold of Todd Wallace's arms and escort him out of the room.

"Where d'ya want him, Doc?"

"Follow me."

"See ya, Doctor Crane!"

"Good bye, child."

There. That was as nice as he had to be for the day.

"Right in here."

"Want us to strap him in?"

"Of course."

Oh, Arkham. It was a shame it hadn't been abandoned-he'd love it for a lair. All set up for experiments…one day, perhaps.

"How are you, Mr. Wallace?" He shoos the inmates out and flicks on the overhead light. "Happy? Healthy?" He lays his gloved hand on the man's shoulder and leans forward. "Scared?"

"Crane, you sick bastard…"

"I really do wish you people would be a little more creative in your insults." He taps Wallace's face with a needle and relishes the look on his face. Defiant, angry…terrified. "Do you know why you're here?"

Wallace scowls at him and says nothing. Mannerless little…well. He isn't all that surprised.

"You have a habit, Mr. Wallace, of looking at things that don't belong to you." Scarecrow slides into place now. "And sometimes touching those things."

"Bull shit."

Scarecrow chuckles and ruffles Wallace's hair. He likes this guy! He's not a crier. Criers suck.

"I don't think so." he rasps. "I have some very reliable witnesses."

"To what?"

Curiosity killed the cat, doesn't he know that? Although…he did ask so very nicely…

"Think back to two months ago, Mr. Wallace." He tilts the chair back a bit and bolts the man's head in sideways. Can't have him choking on puke, after all. That would ruin the fun. "Think hard. There's an inmate you've taken a shine to."

He starts to shake. He knows why he's here now. That's good. That just adds to the fear. After all, there is a bloodstain in their cell, and it didn't get there from a cut finger.

"Look, Crane…"

"Jonny-boy isn't here right now." He strokes Wallace's cheek and Wallace whimpers. "Shh, shh. Scarecrow will take care of you."

"I didn't know, God…"

"You didn't KNOW?" He can't believe that. It's no big secret. "Don't lie to me."

Wallace isn't crying yet, but he's damn close. Typical. Faced with impending death, everyone's a wimp.

Jonathan shoves him out of the way-ugh, fine.

"Once upon a time, there was another guard here. He was very much like you. Fancied himself a regular ladies' man." He began to circle the chair, checking to make sure the straps were secure. "Do you know what happened to him?"

A single tear trickled down Wallace's face.

"He died. It was a tragedy, really. A terrible accident. He was bringing me my breakfast and bumped his head on a loose brick. Repeatedly." Everything's secure. "What an unhappy coincidence, wouldn't you say?"

More tears, followed by a low, steady whine.

"How horrible." he says softly. "Such a promising career, cut short by a sudden nervous breakdown."

One needle slides effortlessly into Wallace's beefy wrist.

"Scream for me, Todd. Tell me what you see."

The whine becomes a wail, and then the wail becomes one long, steady scream.

The doctor is in.

THE END