Disclaimer: I only own the Characters Kida, Marcus, and the teachers. The rest are owned by DC Comics.

Chapter 2

It's been a week since the whole "Bat" scenario, and the only notable things that took place was that I was late for school the day after and had none of my homework done; and it seems I had acquired something close to a stalker.

Guess I should explain. When I did finally get to class after arriving three hours late, there was a tall, skinny, blue haired, red eyed, white kid sitting in my usual seat near the back of the class. Upon seeing him I could tell he was one of those nerds who watched Japanese stuff endlessly to the point he had to colour his hair and wear contacts to look like one of the characters. These types of people don't normally bother me, however after the night I had had the night before I really wasn't in the mood to explain to this weird kid that he was in my seat and instead started to scan the class for an empty one.

To my great disappointment there were no empty seats and I had to stand at the back of the class in plain view. Mr. Langley, our math teacher, of course spotted me the moment he turned around. He then proceeded to move down the aisle of students until he was right in front of me and everyone in the class was watching.

"So, our dear little Miss. Woods feels it's time to join the rest of the class. Does she?" He smiles a bit, and looks pointedly at me waiting for an answer.

I try to scramble for an excuse, but I really didn't come prepared for that. "I…..uh…I was in the….uh"

"She was in the nurse's office. She didn't look to be feeling well."

The voice was so sudden and unexpected I was sure I was hearing things. But when I looked around Mr. Langley to see who had spoken I saw that the nerd in my seat was standing. I'm pretty sure for the first time I shared in the surprise that the entire class felt.

"Is what Mr. Dartmoor says true, Miss. Woods?"

Mr. Langley voice seemed to bring me back in from the surprise. "Uh, yeah. The nurse said I'd be fine if I didn't overexert myself."

"Alright, then." And somehow that was enough for Langley today.

He returned to the front of the class and continued his lesson. The nerd sat back down and I pulled out my notebook to write down whatever was left of the lesson. I didn't really pay too much attention to the rest of class, mostly because I kept wondering why this weird kid would help someone he doesn't know. Or why he would help me of all people.

The bell rang for lunch; I took my sweet time packing my stuff, I really didn't want to face anyone after that weird encounter with the nerd and Mr. Langley. The nerd gave me a quick glance before leaving and went on his way.

My next class started and the nerd it seemed was also in my English class and History class. He didn't talk to me, but I did catch him staring at me a lot. By a lot I should say creepy large amounts of staring! I was starting to think there might have to be something wrong with this kid; after all I'm sure the other nerds would have told him that I was the one person he should keep far away from. But he just kept staring.

And it's been like this all week. If he's not staring at me in class, he seems to be following me around the school. Wherever I go he seems to always be about ten feet away. In class he's been switching seats with people till he's about two or three seats away from me. And I'm really just glad he can't go into the girls' restroom.

By the end of the week I was really beginning to feel fed up with this nerd. He seemed to have fixated on me, and all I wanted was for him to piss off. Last period on Friday he sat right next to me, kept glancing my way like he wanted my attention. I tried to stay as focused as I could on the "lesson" in history on the latest foiled attempt by the Penguin. However it's hard to concentrate on anything when someone's staring at you.

With History coming ever closer to an end, I found myself staring at the clock. The weekend was right around the corner, and that meant I could spend my time not focusing on how odd and disconcerting the nerd was and focus on why in just a little over a week's time I'd be seeing Dr. Leeland again, and why she said this meeting would be a special one.

The bell rang; I practically ran out of the classroom. I got and my stuff and left the school grounds in what had to be a new record for me. I even caught the early bus and got home an hour early.

All of this would have been great, if only I hadn't had the urge to look out my window when I got home and see the nerd walking up my street like he was looking for someone. This is when I really started to believe that he was in fact stalking me. I'm really glad he didn't seem to know where I lived, yet. When I checked some time later he seemed to have disappeared, most likely sometime between my diner and the 7 pm radio show with Vikki Vale.

With him now out of sight, I hoped to put him out of mind.

I really needed to start thinking about the more pressing issue of Dr. Leeland. I decided it was about time to turn on the computer.

Unlike my radio which I bought with my allowance, the computer was a "gift" from the doctors at the asylum. It's supposed to be for school work, however I really find little use for the machine when I much prefer to write everything out by hand.

Basically it took me a ridiculously long time to remember how to start the damn thing. Once it was on though I knew where to go from there, they teach that part regularly at school.

Upon typing "Arkham" into the search bar online, I found many articles about the obvious. Who got put back in, who escaped, and so on. Till finally I found an article dated about three days ago announcing that a Mr. Bruce Wayne was going to be visiting the asylum next Friday. The same Friday I'm supposed to go for my meeting with the doc. It seemed that this Mr. Wayne is quite the figure head in Gotham.

I should note that I know next to nothing about the rich and famous people of the world. In fact after typing Mr. Wayne into the search bar I began to remember why I pay no attention at all to these sorts of things.

Mr. Wayne is a rich, famous party animal that seems to enjoy every moment of it. Truthfully the more I read about the "Playboy of Gotham" the more I couldn't comprehend why the hell in god's name he would want to visit the asylum at all. It's not like he can party it up with the inmates.

What could his being in the asylum do anything or help anyone? Why were the docs letting him in at all? Wouldn't having some rich guy in the asylum be asking for trouble? What could be going through Leeland's head to think it was a good idea to have me in the asylum at the same time as this Mr. Wayne? What happened to my being the little secret of Arkham?

I tried to find more about Mr. Wayne's visit, but could find nothing more than that one article. This really left more question than answers. Questions I knew I wouldn't find on my own. So I shut the computer down and headed off to bed early. That way I'd be up in time to beat the sunrise to the church.

vvvvvvvvvvvv

Four am is a perfect time of day in Gotham. The sun is still two hours away from rising. The city glimmers with the street lights bouncing off the buildings trying to reach up to the stars. The air is crisp and feels almost clean. Dew is just starting to touch everything in sight. It always seems to be the time when almost everyone is asleep; the city is so quiet I would swear you could hear the A train all the way up in New Gotham.

I'm on the roof of my apartment building, with my backpack filled with my sketch book, pencils, pens, food and extra loose sheets of paper. I've bundled up in my sweats, sneakers, and a loose sweater. I've dressed as loosely as possible so I can move as freely as possible. I need that freedom to move or I'll fall off the rooftops.

I don't know much about "parcour" however there was a day when someone saw me running from rooftop to rooftop that they said my movements looked a lot like this "parcour". Like I said though, I have no idea what that is. I guess it kinda cool that I'm doing something similar to something popular.

Getting back on track I run off the roof, land on the next building three stories down, roll and keep running forward. I pick up as much momentum as I can; leap across, land on the fire escape on the next building and climb up the side of it. Back up top I'm running, jumping, leaping and just generally dodging whatever happens to be in my way.

It's a freeing experience. The wind is rushing by you so fast you feel almost like you're flying instead of running. The pounding of your heart and breathing is hard and strong; like they're both fighting for dominance. You can feel every movement of your body, every muscle, bone, fiber; all moving together as one. For me nothing feels better than these Saturday runs.

I reach the church right on time, the sun's not up yet and I've got plenty of time to set up.

From the roof of the church I can climb up the bell tower and sit at the very top. This is where I do most of my drawings; the view is amazing and always changing. Sometimes there'll be a fight going down on a nearby roof top, or another new building going up in New Gotham, or my favorite some riot going down anywhere.

So I get set up in my spot, laying out my tools and pulling out my sketch book. Turning to the more recent pages I realize I've been drawing the same place over and over again. Arkham Asylum.

This always seems to happen about this time of year, like it's stuck in my head or something. I really shouldn't ever let Dr. Leeland see this, ever! Or I might just find a permanent residence there. Wouldn't that be grand?

I look over the scene before me, looking for anything else that might catch my eye. That's when I think I see something fluttering in the wind right across from me. I squint thinking that might help my vision. Of course it doesn't. So I decide that I'm going to draw that building. Perhaps when it gets lighter I'll see what was fluttering.

Now that I've got a subject I wait for sun rise.

By 6:47am the sun is just starting to show itself above the tall buildings of Gotham. Sending all the night stalkers and hoodlums back into their hideaways as the "proper" people of Gotham begin their day.

Looking back across to my subject, I spot movement again. Though this time it's more than just a flutter, it's more like the movement of someone standing up. I try to spot it again, but it's vanished or seems to have. Perhaps it was never there at all. However I'm set up now and moving will mean losing my light.

I draw the building, it doesn't take long, in fact looking at the building in the light it's pretty boring and I'm bit mad that I let my imagination make me think something might have been there.

I'm finished earlier than usual and head back home. The run home seems faster; I'm back by 10:56am.

It feels like a wasted morning. The run was great but the outcome was a real bummer. I got a crappy drawing, all because something I thought I saw.

vvvvvvvvvvvv

Seeing as I had plenty of time that afternoon, I headed up town. By that I mean New Gotham, where all the people who've got money to spend live and shop. I only head this way to visit the library, and today is no different. I'm hoping to find out more about Mr. Wayne's visit. I'm really hoping the librarians know more than the in-tra-nets.

The library is a fairly large building in that it is far larger on the inside than it appears on the outside. And if I had to guess I would say they've got more books than anywhere else in the state.

When I get there, I head straight for the front desk. I don't even look around. I know there's bound to be happy families about and I don't want to see them. The sight only makes me sad, knowing I can't have what they have. When I reach the desk no one appears to be there.

"Um, hello? Anybody here?" There's no answer. I try again a little louder. "Hello! Anyone here!"

This when I notice it's pretty quiet, even for a library. In fact I can't hear a single person. I look around and find that there is no one in sight. If that's not weird I don't know what is.

I head off in search of someone. Round one corner before I'm grabbed from behind yet again. Instead of letting whomever pull me away I elbow the person. The hit connects, I hear my assailant cough and their grip lessons.

"What the hell!" The voice is quiet but hissed. I turn and see the last person I want to see right now.

"You!" I shout, the nerd grabs me again and covers my mouth. I protest, but he seems quite concerned with keeping me quiet.

"Are you trying to get us shot?!" His voice is still whispered. I get the feeling he's very serious about his statement.

I wrench my mouth free and whisper back, "What in hell are you talking about?!"

"There are about seven guys here with guns and they all seem ready to pop anyone at any moment!" He explains, then looks at me with a questioning look. "Why are you here? I thought you lived in Old Gotham?"

"I knew it! You were following me!" My voice rises again and he once again covers my mouth. I roll my eyes. He removes his hand and I continue. Though much quieter. "I'm here to do research. What about you and how did you get away from the gun men?"

"I hid under a desk and started to slowly make my way to the front. And I was not following you."

"Uh huh, and I'm Sherley Temple."

"Who?"

I'm about to answer when we both hear a voice just around the corner from us.

"Make sure the front is covered! Don't want any cops coming in!" The voice was gruff, but with a hint of authority.

Realizing the nerd was mostly telling the truth I looked around to see if the way I came was still clear. There was no way I going to stay here and end up a hostage in some stupid plan of down 3rd grade hoodlum.

Finding the way I had come still clear I looked towards the nerd,

"Come on. Before they reach us, we can make it to the doors and call the cops."

He looks at me like I'm crazy, and is just about to say something when I interrupt.

"Would you rather stay in here?"

He thinks on it. Before finally says, "Alright, let's go."

We crouched and headed off. We didn't run into any one, in fact it's was all too simple to get out of the library. We made it outside before anyone even knew we had been there.

Just outside we hear the first gun shot. The nerd takes that as his cue and whips out his cell and is dialing the cops.

"Hello, we need cops at the central library a.s.a.p. There's been shots inside and I think there might be a hostage situation going on…. No I don't know how many people… No, I'm not inside!... Would you just get your asses down here!"

The nerd almost looks like he could kill the idiot on the other end of the phone and I don't blame him, 911 officers ask all the really stupid questions. My favorite has to be "Are you alright?". You would think that if someone were calling 911 they wouldn't be alright.

Finally he hangs up, and I point towards the library.

"So, want to go back in?" I ask.

He stares at me with a look of total disbelief.

"I'm kidding! God you people are so uptight."

I walk away; I know there is no way I'm getting my questions about Wayne answered now. They'll close the library for the day, after all everyone inside will be to shaken to work or be of any help to anyone.

The nerd runs up beside me. "What do you mean "you people"? And what's with your attitude, people could be dead and you're making jokes?"

"Oh please. People die every day. So what if someone dies today instead of tomorrow."

"Ouch, that seems a bit heartless."

"But it's true. And by "you people" I mean everyone who doesn't live in Old Gotham and gets to enjoy the freedom of having money to spend. And why the hell are you following me?" I turn and face him, he seems at a loss for words so I help him out. "Oh, I get it. You want to help the poor helpless girl from the wrong side of the tracks. Well sorry you're wasting your time. I don't want or need saving."

I turn to leave, only to find him grabbing my arm.

"You're wrong." His voice is stern, and almost scared. Like he's afraid I'll snap at him.

Instead I just wait for him to explain. I really don't have anything better to do now that the library is under siege.

"I… I just…uh….."

I roll my eyes. "Just spit it out, nerd!"

He looks taken aback by my calling him a nerd. "I just wanted to know you. That's all, freak!"

"Freak. That's a good one." I laugh; it's the worst insult I've heard in years. Not to mention meaningless to me, I've been called worst things in my life. "You really should work on your insults, kid. I've got to go. It was nice talking with you."

He grips my arm tighter. "Please, wait. I really just want to talk. Please." His voice is desperate, and he looks like he's about to cry.

I sigh, and in that moment I really hate having a heart. It's such a pain in the ass. "Fine, but you owe me lunch."

He smiles, "Deal."

vvvvvvvvvvvvvv

Lunch as it turned out was to be at his house. And I must admit I was kinda intrigued. I've never been invited to someone's house, especially by someone from the right side of the tracks. His house was, in my opinion, huge! It was two stories tall had two baths, a kitchen the size of my apartment and a living room even larger, and that was just the first floor. Upstairs there were three bedrooms, another bath, and a study. Simply put I was in awe.

He led me to his room which was right at the end of the upstairs hall. I thought it was weird he didn't take me to meet his parents first, but really didn't want to question it or talk to his parents.

His room was not what I expected at all. In fact it was the complete opposite. Turns out he's not an anime freak. His room was fairly normal. He had a bed, a dresser, a desk, and a book case over flowing with books. The only thing that really stood out in his room was his walls. He seems to have a fascination with weird looking posters that I think are circuit boards, and maps.

I sit down at his desk, watch as he picks up some stuff off his bed and sits.

I cough, "So, this…uh…..is your room?" I try to find the right words, instead I just go with my gut. "Ok, I just really got to know. What the hell have you plaster your walls with?"

"Huh?" He looks around and there's almost a hint of a smile on his face. "Oh, those. They're just different types of motherboards and computer connections. I study some computer engineering and programming."

"Right, and the maps?" I go across the room to one of them and it's littered with little red markers. "What are the markers for?"

"Well, that's the reason I wanted to talk to you. But I think maybe we should get to know each other better. So that this isn't so awkward."

I scoff, "Too late for that, stalker. And I don't do the whole "getting to know someone" thing." He gives me that confused look I always get. "Trust me, it's safer for the both of us."

"Then, how do I know I can trust you?"

"That's your problem not mine. After all I'm not the one following you around."

"Again, I wasn't following you."

"And again, "then I'm Sherley Temple""

He raises his hands up in defeat. "Fine! But in my defense I was just doing that to make sure you really were from Old Gotham."

"Why?"

"Well, why can't I know anything about you?"

I can see where this is going. We'll argue the same thing back in froth till one of us gets fed up, then I'll storm out. He'll most likely follow me and try to apologize. I'm really too curious about his maps to let that happen.

"Ok, fine. I can't tell you anything to detailed about myself because there are people who, in the middle of the night, will kidnap you and make sure you never utter another word again for the rest of your life."

That had to be the most truthful thing I'd ever said to anyone, ever!

I was hoping this would be enough for him and he'd tell me what the maps were for, but when I looked at him he was just staring at me. I coughed, that seems to get his mind working again.

"Are you serious? Someone will seriously come to my house and harm me if you tell me too much?" He sounds scared. I'm sure he wishes I was kidding. Too bad for him I'm not.

"That's right. So here's the deal I'll tell you what I can then you tell me about this map. Deal." I'm really hoping this'll work, cause I'm curiosity is killing me.

He thinks about my deal for what feels like ages. Till finally he smiles a genuine smile at me and says, "Deal."

"Alright, then. Guess that means I'm first."

I sit back down at his desk and take a deep breath. For the first time in my life I'm about to let someone in, or at least as in as someone can go. It is scarier than I thought it would be because I know I have to be very careful with what I say. I'm sure that this weird computer geek with colourful hair isn't what I imagined the first person to hear this crazy confession would be, but it's got to be a good start.

"My name is Kida. My last name is not Woods, but something else. I'm called Woods because it's safer for everyone around me. Most people don't want anything to do with me, and that's fine. I really stopped caring a long time ago. I hate most of my classes, but love art. In fact, if I could have art every day all day I would take that in a heartbeat. As for computers I barely know a thing about them, except what they teach us at school. I live in Old Gotham and rarely travel to the richer areas of Gotham unless I have to. I'm not a part of any gang; I sure if I ever was you would never have met me. Finally I think you're kinda weird and your hair freaks me out."

I finish what think was a pretty big leap for me, and I'm sure if Dr. Leeland had been here she would have been proud, or maybe just pleased that I had spoken to someone outside of the asylum.

I look at my stalker, and he hesitates.

"So, asking for more is out of the question."

I very sternly say, "Yes, that's right."

"Ok, then. My turn. My name is Marcus Dartmoor, and Dartmoor is my real last name. I'm a computer geek and don't know a single thing about art. I am, or was, a twin. My twin's name was Dorian. He died a short time ago. My parents have reached a point where they care very little what I do with my time, because they are too busy mourning my brother. This is why I didn't introduce you downstairs. I wasn't following you home the other day I was just heading that way for my own reasons which had nothing to do with you. The fact that you lived in that part of Old Gotham was a bit of a shock to me. So, I'm sorry if you think I'm stalking you. I'm not sorry my hair weirds you out, I like it this way."

"Ok, but none of that explains the maps on the wall."

"Oh right. The maps are for hunting down the Joker."

Now it's my turn to be shocked. This geek isn't just stalking me; he's trying to stalk the Joker. He must be kidding or I hope he's kidding.

"Please tell me you're kidding! That's insane! You can't just stalk the most dangerous man in Gotham!"

"I have too!" Even though he yelled, I can see pain in his eyes.

It was all too clear to me in that split second. I see people like him everywhere back in Old Gotham. Families torn apart by some fiendish plot to kill the Bat; the people left behind either seek blood for blood or fall into despair. They always blame either the Bat or the villain. Marcus fell into the first group; he wanted revenge for the death of his twin. And I know most "normal" people would try to talk him out of it. However I know all too well I'd be wasting my breath. So I did the only thing I could think of at the time.

I looked him straight in the eyes and asked, "So what do you need me for?"

Confusion spread across his face again, "Wait, you'll help me?"

"Perhaps, I want to know more first. And you'll owe me a lot more than just lunch."

"I'll do anything you ask! I promise!"

"Alright then. Explain these maps and perhaps I can shed some light on your situation."

His explanation was long and dull. Mostly because he felt I had to know everything. From the shooting that lead to his brother's death to how he had learnt about gang movements and their dealings into various things. On his wall he had three maps; one for known sightings of the Joker, one for past hide outs, another for possible future hide outs. All of this info had come from multiple visits into some of the darkest reaches of Gotham. I must admit I had to admire the fact that he hadn't gotten himself killed yet.

I asked about what his parents thought about all this, and he simply said they knew nothing about his activities. That they simply didn't ask. I shrug at this and simply let him continue his telling his tale.

He seems to have been school jumping for the last month trying to find some kid from Old Gotham he could work with when he found me. He explained that this was why he had followed me around at school. He just wanted to be sure that Old Gotham was where I was from before he confronted me. So I forgave him, sort of, and told him to simply say hi or something so he doesn't seem like a stalker anymore. He agreed.

He then went on to explain that he wanted to know everything I knew about the Joker and how his gang worked. It seems that he could find a lot of info on other gangs just not the one he wanted. He believed this was because he simply did not have the same freedom I had. This of course seemed a strange thought to me because he seemed to be doing fairly well on his own.

"Well, Marcus. I must admit this is quite the project. And I'm not sure how much help I'll be, but I'm in."

"Really!" He smiled again, "Thank you, really. This means a lot."

"Yah, well. Don't get mushy on me or I'm out. Got it!"

"Deal. So does this mean we can talk at school, and maybe work together after school."

I pretend to think real hard, "Well, uh, I, ugh. I guess so. But we are so going to have a discussion about your hair."

"What is it you don't like about my hair!"