Bruce Wayne was reading the newspaper.
Oh, there was nothing unusual in that. Bruce always scanned the newspaper, eager to hear of any news involving the scummy underbelly of Gotham. He'd wake up (often late in the day, long after the sun had reached its zenith) and comb the whole thing, cover to cover. Then he'd do it again, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. His butler, Alfred, would patiently wait for him to finish before handing him a tray of warm breakfast.
"Batman on the front page again, Master Wayne?" Alfred always arrived just like clockwork, bearing a tray laden with coffee, bacon, and eggs.
Bruce gave Alfred a long look before throwing the paper onto a nearby coffee table and accepting his breakfast.
"Who else? Though I wish they would focus less on him and more on the criminals he's catching. Don't they ever get tired of reporting on the same thing?"
"Apparently not, Master Wayne," Alfred smirked, glancing at the front page of the Gotham Globe. Most of the page was taken up with a large picture of the Batman, perched on a high building and watching several mafia members being piled into the back of a police van. For the Batman, Alfred mused, it had been just another night.
However, an article just a little further down on the page caught Alfred's attention as he picked up the paper, slightly taken aback by the headline; SCANDALOUS COURTOOM DRAMA! The picture accompanying it was tiny, colorless, and showed an average Gotham courtroom bathed in chaos. Citizens and police alike attributed to the disorder of the court, running about as a man lay in the very center of the courtroom, unconscious.
Last week, another one of Gotham's courtrooms was thrown into chaos during a legal procedure. Starr Meer, a twenty two year old Gothamite, was apprehended a few weeks ago by the Batman mid-heist. Found guilty of armed robbery and assault, Meer was sentenced to an undetermined length of time to Arkham Asylum. While most convicted of armed robbery would be sent to Blackgate Penitentiary, Meer's lawyer pleaded for his client to be taken to Arkham on the basis of mental instability. James Rowles, a well known criminal defense lawyer, took on Miss Meer's case, but noted that she seemed incapable of remorse or higher level emotions. Further review from several prominent psychologists corroborated his testimony. Upon hearing that she had been sentenced to Arkham Asylum, Miss Meer reacted violently towards her Mr. Rowles, delivering a blow that broke both of his legs. She was swiftly detained by courtroom guards and remains under arrest in Arkham Asylum.
Alfred sighed and replaced the paper on the coffee table. Today's youth...
...was sitting quietly in her cell, contemplating her time so far at Arkham. It had been almost a week now, and her sessions with Doctor Young were just not going well, to be honest. Worse yet, no one would say exactly when she was supposed to be released, which did not bode well for her. With no end in sight, she'd reluctantly begun to settle into the asylum's routine.
Wake up, eat, have her head examined, eat, watch television with the other low security inmates, eat, sleep.
"I mean, there's no mental stimulation at all here, Doc. Sure, Jeopardy's nice, but a month straight is a bit much for anyone, crazy or no." Starr couldn't help but rattle the chains attached to her handcuff, hoping to punctuate her words with the sound. "And haven't we moved past these? I haven't so much as looked at you funny, let alone been violent towards you."
"If you cooperated with me, I might be able to get you books or other materials, as well as allow you to access the gym facility. And the chains aren't just here for my protection, they're for yours as well."
Starr hummed low in her throat. Right, Doctor.
"What kind of cooperation do you want?"
Dr. Young's ears perked up, almost imperceptibly. "For starters, you could tell me the truth about your childhood. It says in your file that you've been a ward of the state since you were fourteen, but there's no mention of your past beyond that. For all I know, you could very well have had a stripper mother and an absent father."
"No can do, sorry. Feel free to ask another question though."
"This is exactly what I mean. You don't trust me."
"No, not really."
The doctor's lips pursed, and Starr gleefully wondered if she'd hurt the doctor's feelings. Penelope Young wasn't really a bad person; she'd never been outright rude to Starr, nor had she pumped her full of Thorazine and locked her away. However, she was overly ambitious and had no real love for her patients, something Starr found detestable.
"How can we fix that?"
"Unchain me, for starters. I feel like an animal," she pleaded.
"You broke both of Mr. Rowles legs at the kneecaps, Miss Meer. You're not allowed to be unchained, and we've been instructed to transfer you to maximum security if you display any aggressive behavior."
"Oooh, so he can't walk?"
"You take pleasure in the fact that you've caused someone else pain, Starr?" Starr knew she'd pushed it a little too far. She'd just loooove to write that one down, wouldn't she?
"No, just him. He's a bit of a pig, to be honest."
"I see. Well, since you've been in treatment for nearly a week and shown no progress, I've decided that medication might be the right course for you. You'll start taking them tomorrow morning before breakfast."
Panic bit at Starr then. If they pumped her full of drugs, would she still be able to function? And why did she need drugs anyway? What exactly had she done wrong? Besides failing to rob a bank, of course.
"Doc, I don't see why I need them. You haven't even given me a diagnosis yet."
"Well, you're proving very hard to diagnose," Young answered simply.
"Did you ever stop and think there might not be anything wrong with me?" Starr kept the anger from her voice, but the words were still fraught with tension. The doctor paused for a moment, tapping her pen lightly against her knuckles.
"No, there's something the matter with you. But don't worry, Starr. Arkham is going to fix you."
Whether you like it or not, Doctor Young finished mentally. That was her job, after all.