AN: There's really no excuse for not updating in so long. I went to an IRL mental hospital for a while and wasn't allowed near computers. I'm really sorry. Seeing the reviews/follows when I came back was really very pleasant. Thank you all.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Batman franchise.

"Do you think I've gone round the bend?"
"I'm afraid so. You're mad, bonkers, completely off your head. But I'll tell you a secret. All the best people are."
― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland

Starr was stunned into silence, staring at the ghastly little pin pressed between her fingers.

What party?

Nothing came to mind; she'd never heard of any party being planned at Arkham, and Warden Sharp didn't exactly seem like the kind of guy to throw a hoe down for his inmates. She shrugged and latched the pin onto her shirt, uncomfortable with the way the green of it stood out in stark contrast to the darkness of her shirt. There was no way someone could miss it, despite its small size.

Shrugging off her discomfort, Starr finally glanced at Maurice.

His breathing was shallow, and a little trickle of blood was sliding down his forehead, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. If what the guard on the walkie talkie had said was true, Maurice would be in serious danger if any of the inmates happened upon him in this state.

So, with a hearty groan, Starr began dragging Maurice back towards her cell, careful not to drop his head on the ground. Wouldn't want to concuss the poor guy any further now, would we? There should be some sort of good Samaritan award for this...

He was heavy, something she'd expected but not prepared for. Her arms were protesting vigorously by the time she'd dragged him all the way back into her cell. Moving him onto the comfort of the cot seemed like a pipe dream, so she let him lie on the floor as she pillaged the utility belt he wore around his rather bulky waist. Sorry Maurice, she apologized mentally. Don't think you'll need them in here, though.

There she found a pistol, a stun gun, and a police baton; these were going to be her only weapons against an entire asylum full of crazies, along with a handful of rusty keys. Upon closer inspection, however, the pistol was empty, and the stun gun seemed completely drained of power. Feeling more than a little annoyance at Maurice, Starr let the two useless weapons fly across the room and skid into the wall.

"Police baton it is," she muttered sourly. After one last glance at Maurice, Starr shut the door to her cell and locked him inside. Hopefully the reinforced steel of the cell would protect him from the worst Arkham had to offer. If not... well, no one could say she hadn't tried, could they?

The prisoners who had been howling only a few moments earlier were eerily silent as she passed by their doors. Oh, she'd walked these same halls before, always under guard and never under pleasant circumstances. Desperate howls and panicked, pleading voices had assaulted her ears each and every time she'd made the march to Dr. Young's office. But now...

Arkham Asylum was as quiet as a grave.

That alone made her hands itch on the worn handle of the police baton. The noise was as much a part of Arkham as the architecture was. Its absence did not bode well for her, she reasoned. And then there were the walls, dotted every now and then with vicious green spray paint proclaiming, "HAHA."

She came to an abrupt halt in front of a vandalized picture, trying to catch her breath and her bearings, as she was quickly approaching a part of the asylum she'd never been before. Quincy Sharp's beady eyes stared down at her from the frame of the nearby portrait, acid green smile so completely at odds with his image that she felt a chill roll down her back. This was the Joker's work, no doubt about it.

"YOU! Turn around now," a voice several feet behind her barked.

Starr's blood froze as she turned. Not one, but three men had somehow sneaked up behind her while she'd been gaping at the Warden's portrait. They were huge, brutishly muscled, and very clearly not the security guards that she'd hoped they would be.

What the hell was going on in this place? Where were all the guards?

One of the men cracked his knuckles menacingly and rocked back on his heels, grinning. His two partners dropped their spent cans of green spray paint on the floor, a loud clang resounding as metal met metal.

"What have we got here?" one of them leered. "You lost, little girl?"

Starr swallowed, backing away from them until she was pressed against the wall, wishing she could melt into it and disappear as they advanced on her.

"Where ya goin', dollface?"

"S-stay back, please," Starr managed finally. These men were huge. There was no way she was going to be able to fend off three of them, especially with only a police baton. They'd destroy her at close range. She raised the baton in what she hoped was a threatening manner and they came to a halt, barely a foot from her. Before she could let out a sigh of relief, the men glanced briefly at one another and burst into laughter.

" You think that's going to stop us? A little stick?" The man's eyes narrowed suddenly, hardening as he looked at her. One of his arms snaked out, reaching for her throat, ready to crush her fragile neck in his ham-hands-

THWACK.

And then she was gone, ducking under his bowed legs, running for her life as fast as she could. The man who'd nearly choked her was howling in pain and holding his arm where Starr had managed to strike him with the baton.

"YOU BITCH, GET BACK HERE!" His companions glanced at him, unsure if they were meant to help their comrade or chase after the girl. "What are you waiting for, get her!" he growled. They nodded briskly and took off after her, following their frightened prey around the asylum.

Starr was quickly running out of breath when she chanced a glance over her shoulder. The two burly men were gaining on her, and fast. Oh no, please no, shouldn't have done that. They're going to kill me, gotta hide.

A stitch in her side flared painfully to life as the men drew even closer, and Starr knew with a terrible certainty that if something didn't change now, she was going to die. A hand latched roughly onto her wrist, using her own momentum to throw her headfirst into a nearby wall.

"Gotcha," one of them crowed as she sank to the floor, head spinning. "Now, you're gonna urk."

Urk? She opened her eyes and saw nothing but deep, inky black in front of her. For one horrified moment she thought she'd gone blind. And then the darkness moved, darting towards her remaining pursuer. It wasn't a terrified scream that left his lips as the darkness overtook him; it was a shudder and an awful plea.

The situation was familiar to Starr. It had been herself who had been on the receiving end last time, just before she'd been thrown into the hell that was Arkham Asylum.

The dark figure turned around, expression grim and eyes hard as it looked down at her.

This was the Batman.