AN: Finally! This is the beginning of 'Check-Up' and the stories related to that. For those of you who had a lame childhood,
Lame, Scary? Really? Of all the words in the English language, you chose…lame. Wow.
This is the internet, shut up. Lyle 'Lock-Up' Bolton was a villain in the animated series. He gets points(not good points, just points) for being one of the few people to actually scare the Scarecrow.
Cretin. He has been dealt with. I hear he still can't sleep with the lights off.
I have Nolan-ized him. Because I can.
Because she is a sadist.
I am not!
Mm. You cackle when dinosaurs eat people in Jurassic Park. You torment me on a regular basis. My professional opinion is that you have sadistic tendencies.
I also plot the murder of my friends and colleagues as a mental exercise! Carry on.
Or don't, it's all the same to me.
SwordStitcher-I should be nicer to him. Shame his screams have such a lovely tone...
Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Is that so? I think it's time to pay a visit to the cast and crew involved in that.
EveApplefield-Don't encourage her! She ruins lives!
JasmineScarthing-Edward disagrees.
His first run-in with their new head of security is not pretty.
He doesn't know quite what sparked the man's ire-maybe it was snipping at the Joker during group therapy?-but he finds himself escorted out and being hauled up by the throat.
"I don't know all the crap you got away with before, but you're dealin' with me now. Understand?"
He is shaken like an errant dog until he nods his head.
"Good."
They don't go back in the room. Instead, he's dragged down the hall to his cell, tossed in, and left there. What was that? None of the guards-not even the nastiest-have ever acted like that.
He'll have to be careful around this maniac.
What time is it? What day is it?
He's been down in solitary for who knows how long. It's dark, cold, and generally miserable. Bolton threw him down here for something or other-he doesn't know, honest he doesn't-and he's starting to wonder if he's been forgotten about.
The cell next door opens and closes and a minute later someone says, "Jon?"
"Hello, Edward."
"What'd you do?"
"I don't know."
"Neither do I."
Knowing Edward, he probably opened his big mouth.
"Bolton?"
"Who else?"
They sit in silence. Jonathan, at least, is listening for any hint that Bolton might be nearby.
"The man is a maniac."
"I know."
"You've been lucky to be down here." As much as he appreciates the company, he really wishes Edward would shut up now. "Not even Ivy talks back to this guy."
"No?"
"Uh-uh. Not after he sprayed one of her plants with weed killer."
Sadist. Not even the Joker touches Ivy's plants.
"How's Kitty?"
Now Edward shuts his mouth. That is not helpful…were those footsteps?
No. They're still alone down here. Good.
"Edward."
"I haven't seen her for a few days. The last time anybody saw her, she had these big bruises on her neck. You know, the kind Harley gets sometimes?"
"I see."
"Yeah."
They sit in silence again.
Well. He hasn't been quite forgotten, but the main asylum is not at all like he left it.
Everyone's quiet. No laughing, no crying, no screams of 'I'm not crazy!'
No nothing.
At rec room time, everyone just sits quietly, watching cartoons. For once, there is no argument about what to watch. They watch whatever gets picked up first.
Their cells have changed. The doors are electrified-Jervis was kind enough to warn him ahead of time. Not that it matters-they're either handcuffed to their beds or bound up in straitjackets.
Arkham was never Disneyland, but it was never like this.
He can't stay here.
Kitty is in Medical. It took a combination of bribes, threats, and one or two pleas, but one of the guards-one that he actually doesn't loathe with a flaming passion-lets him see her. He makes a note not to gas this one unless it's really necessary.
Edward wasn't exaggerating about the bruises. These are obvious-how do the doctors not see? Do not they not care? Even he would have initiated inquiries, to avoid a lawsuit if nothing else. Imbeciles.
"Kitty?"
"Hi." Her voice is raspy and he cringes. She really shouldn't be talking. "How'd you get in?"
"Bribery." He glances at the door. No Bolton. "What happened?"
"I tripped."
"I mean it. What happened?"
"Bolton and I had a row." She coughs. "You shouldn't be here, he'll be upset…"
"Nothing's broken?"
"No."
"Okay. Go back to sleep." He presses his lips to her forehead and stands up. He'll be back later. Hopefully.
Enough is enough. He is not going to stay here to be tossed around like a rag doll. He's had enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much.
Ahh, solitary again. His favourite place.
He sinks onto the cot. His body aches from being thrown against the wall. He's lucky he doesn't have a concussion.
There has to be a way out. He's gotten out of here in the past, he can get out of here now. He has to, before this gorilla breaks his neck.
God, he could do with some painkillers…
He curls up under the scratchy blanket and closes his eyes. There has to be a way out.
Somehow.
He has found a way out. It's risky and probably won't work, but he'll give it a shot. What else can he do?
Arkham being such an old building, there's all sorts of hidden rooms that aren't on the current blueprints. One of which is directly above his cell.
It was walled off years ago-he found it by taking a wrong turn last year. It can be accessed via air vent-one is in his cell, and one leads to Medical. From there, he decides, he'll borrow a set of scrubs, slip into Cell Block C, and take the Janitor's Closet Passageway to the grounds. After that, well…jump the wall and hope for the best.
What fun this is going to be.
He's in a straitjacket tonight. He'll have to make his move now, before he's cuffed to the bed again. Straitjackets he can handle.
Okay…right arm in, left arm presses against the seam…success! And two sore shoulders, but they pale in comparison to the bruises on his ribcage.
Hopefully Bolton hasn't electrified the ventilation system.
He has not. He tucks the straitjacket into bed, clambers into the old shaft, and pulls the grate shut behind him. So far, so good.
He has to sacrifice an earpiece of his glasses to remove the screws on the exit grate, but it's worth it. They're already damaged, after all. Now! Onto Medical, and then, hopefully, freedom.
The nurse on duty is already snoring and she doesn't notice when he slips into the lockers and puts on a pair of extra scrubs. There. The casual onlooker won't recognize him now. What's the name, just in case…Johnson. Orderly Johnson it is.
"Kitty." He hates to shake her, but they can't stay here all night. "Come on, we're leaving."
"Mm?"
"Shh. Just come on."
Cell Block C, Cell Block C…ah. Cell Block C. That janitor's closet should be riiight…here.
Fresh air has never been so nice. It's cold out here, and he can hear a pair of guards not too far away, but he doesn't hear Bolton yet.
Now, to climb over the wall and run like hell. Normally he'd borrow somebody's car, but he doesn't want to borrow Bolton's by mistake. Maybe they can hitchhike. Or something.
"Come on."
"Where are we going?"
"I don't know."
The guards are still a safe distance away, and no alarms are going off yet. It's now or never.
"Go."
He's scared to breathe, and it seems to him as though their footsteps are much too loud, but no one comes to investigate and three minutes later, they're over the wall and crouching behind a brown car, wheezing.
They're out.
They're out.
How long they'll be out is another matter, but he'll worry about that later. Right now they need to get out of the parking lot before somebody notices they're gone.
THE END