Part Two

Chapter Seven – Friends That Slay Together, Stay Together

The van's engine had cut out, and not a minute later the heavy iron doors squeaked open and we were all blinded by lights. A sea of reporters stood safely behind the metal gates, reporting the action live, as well as horde of Gotham's locals. After the incident at the Hospital, word had quickly spread of the GCPD's plan to escort the Joker to the Asylum. So everyone had prepared.

The scene before us reminded me of the crowd that stood outside the gates in 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory', except the mass wasn't a group of overexcited individuals- they were practically a lynch mob. I knew that the huge wall had been erected to prevent inmates escaping but today it served another purpose, to prevent the public trying to rip the inmates' heads off. I was nearly thankful for its presence.

Waves of abuse were being hurtled at the van, the only way to make the scene more dramatic would be to let some of the townsfolk hold pitchforks. I didn't care though, about their rage. By the end of the day I'd no longer be some invisible person from The Narrows, but a household name. I nearly cracked out a smile, but Boles' hand wrapped tightly around my arm and he shoved me out of the van to escort me inside, which made me instead grimace in pain.

I stared at the gathering as we exited the van, a flash of peroxide blonde catching my eye. There, in the midst of the mob, dressed in a hot pink outfit, was Stacy Gleeson of GCN. And I hadn't been the only one to spot her.

I turned to look over my shoulder at the Joker, who was being ushered out by three Guards in riot gear, his eye's had narrowed in on her like a hawks. Stacy Gleeson stood oblivious to this; facing the opposite direction to stare down into her camera lens, which was recording all the commotion. I was slightly disappointed that I'd never get to see the fear-mongering piece she'd devise. They had kept me so entertained during my hospital days.

If Arkham's extreme precautions weren't funny enough- the Joker was already in shackles and a muzzle, now he needed three highly equipped escorts- the badly aimed egg, which flew straight passed me, and smashed against Boles' thickly padded uniform, was.

I laughed, the Joker laughed, and then we both laughed even more as we heard the chants of abuse increase in volume. Evidently, Gotham city people didn't take kindly to murderers who thought their situation was more than a little amusing. We must have been quite the site, a psychotic clown and a woman dressed as the Nurse from Hell, both in chains, in absolute hysterics whilst getting locked away into the infamous Arkham Asylum. Boy, was I losing it big time.

Of course, I didn't find anything about my predicament entertaining. Although, my fears had decreased when I came to the conclusion that the Joker had a hidden card up his sleeve. Not that he'd be willing to share his trump card with me. I was just hopeful that I'd be able to tailgate off of whatever exit he was planning. After all we that had happened between us the past few weeks, I figured I deserved it. Heck, maybe he'd even turn a blind eye to it.

That was optimism at it's highest.

Boles' grip tightened still, as we turned away from the crowd and headed up the narrow stairs that led to the entrance. I stumbled clumsily to keep up, an action which only caused him to increase his pace. We stopped by the door, and waited for security on the other side to give us the all clear and unlock the heavily secure door. I took the opportunity to take a peep upwards to inspect the building which would be my home, for who knew how long.

The place was gigantic. So big, that I didn't have time to even count the level of floors it was on. It had a Victorian-esque feel to it, it being built with large grey bricks that made it resemble a factory but at the same time, somehow managing to seem as if its design had been drawn from a Gothic novel which had been hugely popular in the time period. The sheer height of the building, and the fact that all of its windows (even on ground level) were barred shut, meant one thing was for certain- escaping via bed sheet rope would not be possible. Amateur, I know. We aren't all as smart as Andy from 'The Shawshank Redemption' when it comes to prison breakouts.

The doors finally opened, revealing two more Guards in riot gear. Boles flung me inside, and marched me along a thin strip of corridor which quickly opened up into large hallway. The interior seemed like it belonged more in a lavish hotel than an Asylum, and if it weren't for Arkham's notorious reputation, I may have been led to believe that I would have actually enjoyed my time here.

The Main Hall had three corridors leading off from it; the narrow one which led to the entrance and exit of the Asylum, and two parallel passageways which took you to either the East or West Wing of Arkham. A grand stairwell had been centred in the middle of the Main Hall, and it lived up to its name. Half way up, the stairwell split into two, both stairways ending up on the floor above which also held many unseen corridors. It made the Main Hall have a well, allowing me to count the number of levels the Asylum was actually on. I got to nine, and that wasn't including the floors which I knew lay below our feet.

A bald man, who had grown out a beard to make up for his lack of hair, stood alone by the bottom of the stairs, and spoke. His voice distracting me away for my internal eye spy. I was trying to spot an elevator, there was no way a place as big as this could be without several.

"Didn't expect you to be here Cash." His voice, as well as his face, was void of emotion. If anything, he looked bored by the whole affair. The Joker didn't even seem to be his top priority.

Cash's heavy footsteps echoed through the large Hall, as he walked from the back of the group into the centre of the front; in between me and the Joker. One of his footfalls was quicker than the other, he was limping, which was probably the reason why he hadn't made the decision to lead the group into the Asylum.

"Heard the News, so I came." He gave the stranger the same reason he'd given Boles.

"You should be at home, recovering." The man didn't make it sound like he cared for Cash's welfare, he made it sound like a fact. It threw me off, I wasn't sure whether the two got along or not.

Cash nodded to his colleague, agreeing. "I'll head back soon as these two are taken care of."

The bald man nodded back, seemingly satisfied with the answer he received. I was perplexed by their whole interaction, so I risked a side glance at the Joker to see if he'd offer any clues. But he hadn't even been paying attention, his eyes were flitting across the room at rapid speed, analysing weaknesses.

"I'll make sure to give a good word to Sharp." The man said.

Cash scoffed aloud, and I could've sworn I saw the stranger's mouth momentarily twitch upwards in amusement. Neither of them seemed to respect this 'Sharp' person.

Frank Boles spoke next, his voice filled with need and desperation, even if I had liked him, it still would have made me cringe. "Does Sharp know about what I've done? That I single-handedly recaptured the Joker, and his accomplice?"

Boles pushed me forward into the Hall like I was some prized possession.

In one sentence, he'd managed to demote me from a crazed murderer, to some brainwashed goon who wasn't even a partner in crime, but a sidekick. I had thought my period of being invisible to Gotham was over. Apparently not. Now I was cursed to forever live under the Joker's crime shadow. I may become a household name, but that would only last a few days at most. Compared to the real bad guys in Gotham, I was nothing. There goes that fantasy of becoming notorious.

The other Guard's stifled at Boles' questions. It was clear that I wasn't the only person who wasn't a fan of him.

The stranger kept his face impassive, "Quincy Sharp knows. As you know, there is a position for one of the Head Guard available. Sharp had said that tomorrow morning, he'd like to discuss with you, in person, whether or not you'd be a suitable candidate for the role."

Fuck. I was categorically screwed. The other Guard's this time stiffened completely. It appeared that they too, had thought the same thing.

Boles looked around the room victoriously, his hard features still looking tough, but beaming with pride. I felt the urge to spit on him again.

"Con-grat-ulationsss Bolessss." A muffled voice hissed out from under his mask. The room turned deathly quiet, and I witnessed the bald man's eyebrows knit together in a concerned manner. He wasn't happy about the Joker's smugness, he wasn't happy at all.

The Joker was staring at Frank Boles with pleased eyes, as if he was genuinely pleased. Boles didn't meet his gaze, looking down awkwardly at the floor as if his mother had just discovered his secret Playboy magazine collection. If I didn't know any better, I'd say that Frank Boles even appeared to be looking guilty. But I brushed the thought away, it didn't make any sense.

Only Cash, out of all the Guards, was immune to the Joker's words and spoke, refusing to let the Joker get the satisfaction of scaring everybody's speech away. "Where'd you want the clown?"

"Maximum security, intensive treatment."

"You give me, uh, too much credit." He chuckled away.

Cash scoffed again, "Nice try clown."

He nodded at the Guards to take the Joker to the East Wing, where I supposed all the other high profile cases went. And the group of five riot equipped Guards began to usher my previous room buddy out. But his shouts stopped them in their tracks. His voice boomed up the well, echoing down all the corridors. He sure knew how to make his presence known to everyone.

"Wait-uh, I said WAIT!"

They did, all five of them turned hesitantly towards the stranger at the stair case unsure what to do. The bald man looked at the Joker, indifferently, waiting for him to continue.

He did, "Where's, uh, Alicccceee going to go?"

The heart pulsated in my chest.

The bald man's face went from indifferent to blatantly confused.

"Alice?" he asked the Joker.

"Yeah, ya know," he rolled his eyes slowly, "Short, blonde-uh. She's dressed up as a Nurse. Pretty hard to spot."

The bald man still gave no response, and the Joker had to tilt his head towards me twice to reveal the answer. I felt my cheeks flame up from embarrassment.

Who needed explosives to rob a bank? I could've just walked in and exited, I seemed to be that invisible to everybody.

The bald man's eyes didn't widen on realisation of who I was, he only frowned.

"I didn't know you got along so well."

"What can I say?" the Joker asked rhetorically, grinning only with his eyes as his mouth was covered. "She grows on you like a tumour, or maybe like ah parasite."

I picked up on the reference and looked towards him, he gave me another minuscule wink and I couldn't help but grin back.

The Joker's words told me that he knew that I was planning on using his future escape attempt, as a chance to evacuate myself. And that meant one thing- that he was actually planning a breakout! The hope of killing Sionis may have still been a dream, but it at least now it had the opportunity to be made into reality.

All the other Guard's looked on, disgusted at what they thought was some twisted form of friendship. But they couldn't have been more wrong. I still disliked the Joker, but it had downgraded from the hatred I had felt when he smugly shoved the truth about Sionis in my face. For some reason though, he wanted us to stick together. I pinned it down to him wanting possession of his latest toy, I wasn't naive enough to think that he saw me as anything more than an object. I'd never be truly safe with him, but even sticking with him was less risky than going Arkham alone. Even if his mind changed more rapidly than the tides.

The bald man took some time to reply, choosing his next words carefully.

"Alice needs to get psychologically checked, to determine where best in Arkham she is suited. In maximum security we split the males and females up, neither of you would cross paths again."

Well shit. That was my chances of having my own personal guard dog, out the window.

"What was that, Doc?" The Joker spoke slowly, emphasising every word. His tone had gone from jovial to downright furious.

The bald man ignored the underlying threat, "The name's William North. I'm just a Guard, not a Doctor."

The Joker stood still for a moment letting silence linger in the air, then in a split instant he tried lunging forward knowing he wouldn't get far with the army of five surrounding him. Still the movement had made North flinch backwards, and the Joker was dragged out of the room in fits of giggles. He was more hormonal than a menopausal woman.

After they had left, it was just me, Cash, Boles and North, left standing in the room. They all looked at me accusingly, as if I was the one to blame for the Joker's infatuation with me. But I didn't pay heed. I was occupied trying to come up with another survival strategy. So far I had zilch.

I was back to square one, I'd be dead within a week.

"Boles, you take her to Doctor Monroe's office. Cash, I'd like a word."

North and Cash watched me exit through the West wing. Whatever they were talking about, I could lay bets that it was something to do about me and the Joker's supposed kinship.

The walk to the office was awkward and silent, not that I would've wanted to make small talk with Boles anyway. He had cheered up, as in released his iron clamp grip on my arm, it may have had something to do with his happy thoughts on getting the promotion. Boles didn't even care about the egg yolk that was had dried a pale yellow against his black uniform, it made it look like a bird had just shat all over him.

Boles unlocked a door in the middle of a corridor with an electronic key. I watched slyly, as he tucked it away again into a zip pocket in the front of his black trousers. He then whisked me into the empty room, pushed me back onto a slouched psychiatric chair that meant I could only stare up at the blinding light on the ceiling I felt like I was at some dentists. That feeling lasted only seconds and ended when Boles attached leather binds around the base of my body so I couldn't get up, it was more like I was away to be administered the lethal injection.

He left without saying a word, and I was abandoned in an empty room.

I focused on the droning buzzing sound that the LED light above me emitted, its noise lulling me away from my intangible thoughts and into some weird place of tranquility that I never knew even existed.

"They rig the lights to produce white noise on purpose," a male's voice spoke, his entrance had gone unnoticed to me. I didn't know how long he'd been watching me stare up into the ceiling, in truth, it made me feel like an idiot. "It helps calm people. Sometimes, even lulls patients to sleep like little babies."

I pivoted my head in the direction of the stranger's voice; it was calming but with the right dosage of professionalism that inform you who was in charge of the situation. It was almost recognisable, but staring up at the lights had made my vision become tainted with coloured splodges, so I couldn't see who the voice belonged to.

"New patient I presume?" he asked.

I hesitated before answering, figuring there was no point delaying my psychiatric screening- I was going to be stuck here. "The newest. Name's Alice Chill."

"Doctor Hay."

I frowned, I had thought I was going to meet a 'Monroe'.

"Unusual name." I stated.

I could hear his smile in his voice, "I happen to be an unusual person. So what brings you to this fine establishment?"

Sarcasm dripped off of his words, at least I wasn't the only person in the room who didn't like Arkham.

"I murdered somebody." The coloured blots were still in my vision, but I refused to blink them away, not wanting to appear crazier than I already looked. Not that it was going to sway his opinion of me, I was already dressed up as a Nurse and strapped down onto a chair. Christian Grey eat your heart out, this was some kinky shit.

"Murder? That's mediocre."

I frowned, this time out of offense. But the Doctor continued, "Most people here at least attempt to go for a mass genocide."

"I'll make a mental note to aim for that the next time." I muttered out, slightly peeved that my heinous crime had yet again been downgraded.

First I was some mere accomplice, now I wasn't violent enough to be entertaining? The staff of Arkham were out to insult me.

He ignored my mocking statement, and continued, "Why did you kill her?"

"It was either her or me." I answered truthfully but vaguely, not caring to elaborate.

"Schizophrenia." I could hear the scrawl of his pen on a pad of paper.

I scoffed at his deduction skills, "More like the Joker."

The Doctor paused before continuing, his voice verging on gleeful. "So he's finally here. In Arkham."

It wasn't the reaction I had expected from a Psychiatrist. I figured they'd all be fearing for their lives. I froze when I realised that something wasn't adding up. Surely the Chief of Staff would have warned all Asylum workers about the Joker's move date. And if not, then he surely would have seen it on the news or seen all the reporters standing outside the gates: they'd all been causing quite the commotion.

"Of course, I say this from a professional viewpoint." He spoke, covering his tracks. "The Joker's case file is very interesting, as in it is non-existent. A painted clown terrorises the streets, and nobody even knows his true name. You would think with a face that badly scarred, somebody would recognise him under his costume."

The thought had already crossed my mind when he was still in his coma. I'd come to the conclusion he'd probably murdered all ties with his past life, for whatever the reason. He had probably just done it for fun. That seemed to be the main motivation within his twisted head.

But I didn't say any of this aloud. Instead I stayed quiet, still on edge. If I had a sixth sense, it would be going haywire at the moment. The Doctor seemed to notice my change in behaviour, which wasn't surprising. He was a psychiatrist after all.

"What's with the scars, Alice? You seem to have acquired a few of your own." His hand wrapped around my stitched arm that lay dormant in handcuffs, under the binds. Then he squeezed, his fingernails breaking the tissue.

I felt a thin trickle of blood spill out as I whined in pain, trying desperately to thrash away from his grip. I didn't know what sort of unorthodox methods Arkham used, but I was willing to bet that this wasn't one of them.

I cursed him out, until he let go. Then I cursed him out some more.

"With that kind of language, you'll fit right in with the locals. It's good to know that I won't have to worry about you making friends." He taunted me.

I turned my head, and although I couldn't see him, I still spat in his direction. Praying that my salvia would hit him smack in the centre of his face.

The whole time he managed to somehow keep his professional demeanour, "Save your fight for shower time. I've heard for the women it can get slightly messy."

"I'll take that on board." I tried to hiss out but, with the flow of blood that was seeping out my wrist, it came off more as a wheeze.

It was the second time today the vein had been opened, and the blood loss was catching up on me, just like my Karma. All I wanted to do was shut my eyes and drift off. The Doctor had been right, the droning noise did have the ability to make people tired. For the second time today, I found myself battling to stay awake. But this time I was even more determined to win.

My pulse roared in my ears, but I still managed to hear the Doctor's next words with complete clarity.

"You aren't feeling sleepy now, are you Alice? I wouldn't judge you if you do nod off. Of course," He paused, and let out a small chuckle. "I can't promise that you'd ever wake up again."

I froze rigid from shock.

This man was no doctor, he was a patient. It had taken me long enough. I opened my mouth to scream, but a hand flew over it in an instant.

"Relax," he breathed out heavily into my ear. "We won't hurt you, not yet anyways. Save your fear for another time."

We?

I blinked away the splodges no longer caring about vanity, my life was on the line! My eyes adjusted, and I was face to face with the blue eyed demon whose face had become infamous within The Narrows.

"Scarecrow." My voice was muffled against his hand, but he had still managed to hear and my fear gave him a small smile.

Trusting that I had the common sense not to cry out for help, or knowing that I'd be too gobsmacked to be able to even consider speaking, he removed his hand and undid the leather straps by my body. I sat up instantly, instinctively needing the opportunity to defend myself for any oncoming attack, and placed pressure on my bleeding vein which had, again, become a waterfall of red.

I whipped around to look at my escape option, but it had been barricaded by an iron chair so that nobody could enter or exit without a struggle. Damn my luck.

His voice shifted my attention back to him, "I have to admit, I'm slightly disappointed that you didn't work it out earlier. I had been hoping to finally meet somebody intellectual in this dump."

"How did you get in here?" I asked, my voice numb in my throat. It's hard to feel the humiliation of an insult when you are terrified out of your mind. I felt my life expectancy reduce from days, to the number of minutes on an egg timer.

He gave another small smile, and pushed the thick black glasses up his nose. He may have been dressed in a bright orange jumpsuit, but he still managed to come off as a professional.

"I used to work here. Nobody knows the Asylum better than me."

It sounded like a boast. In fact, it was one.

"If you know the Asylum so well, why haven't you escaped?" Damn my big mouth. It didn't know how to stay shut, even on the brink of death.

But I got a small twinge of satisfaction when my comment wiped the smirk off of Scarecrow's face. But that quickly disappeared as he dove forward, before I could get a chance to protect myself. His long arms pinned mine at the sides, he stood towering over me, and our foreheads were touching.

"The Batman." His voice went deep and deadly. Our eyes held each other's gazes, icy blue against dark cobalt, but I refused to look away.

He held me there a few seconds longer, squeezing me like he was a boa constrictor. I didn't flinch. Then he let me loose and took a step back. Under his thick rimmed glasses, I could tell he was impressed. But I was just confused. It appeared nobody had the decency to tell him that the Bats was officially out of action- not that I blamed anyone for keeping that information away from him. One thing was for sure, I sure as Hell wouldn't be the one to mention it. Not after the assault he had done to my wrist.

My brain span, as I thought of ways to use it against him. Once he was finished with me, he'd know the true meaning of intellectual.

"So you're just giving up cause a caped crusader is running around, patrolling the street dressed up as a fucking bat?" Was my snide remark. I really didn't know how to shut it.

He ignored me entirely, and shifted the conversation back to the Joker.

"How long were you with the Joker?"

I immediately got sceptical, "Couple of weeks. Why?"

"I'm surprised your loose lips never ended up getting you killed."

It was both a warning and a threat, and I tried not to audibly gulp.

So I lied, the man seemed to be interested in the Joker- I'd use it as leverage. If a fib or two, meant I'd survive a little longer, I'd take it.

"You know what they say- friends that slay together, stay together."

But Scarecrow didn't completely buy it, letting out a small frown. Before he could get the chance to question me, we both heard a noise and turned to face the door. Somebody was trying to get in but the iron chair under it was doing it's duty, keeping the door securely shut. Suddenly the door shook with a heavy pound, and I nearly jumped.

"OPEN THE DOOR!" Boles deep voice wrung through, and it was followed by more bangs, each one getting louder.

I turned to face Scarecrow who still looked more like a doctor than an inmate.

"We don't have much time." He stated.

No shit.

"You have the chance of surviving," he started.

"You think I'll survive?" I cut him off, in shock.

He repeated himself, annoyed at the interruption. "You have a chance."

My optimism soared, a chance was better than nothing.

"If you stick with me." He added, watching smugly as my face fell from happiness. Just as quickly as my optimism had risen, it had plummeted again.

From one mass murdering psychopath to another. Anyone else feel their as if their life is going round in circles here?

But before I could ask him why he was so willing to help me out, the door burst open.

Boles scanned the room, he saw me free and having a 'cosy' conversation with Scarecrow, and gave off his most sinister smile, yet. The last thing I remember was that I was on the floor, withering uncontrollably. The bastard had Tased me.

I regained consciousness, who knew how long after the event. I certainly didn't. All I knew was that I was all bandaged up again, and in a tiny square room that was bare save from a hard bed that lacked a blanket, a grubby sink and a filthy toilet. Apparently the Arkham funds didn't stretch to hiring a cleaner. They'd spent all their income of that fancy staircase at the entrance, I figured. The pretentious asses.

I looked down at my clothes. No longer was I wearing the Nurse outfit, but a disgustingly orange jumpsuit which managed to make me miss my original outfit. It wasn't only the Guards and the inmates here that wanted you dead, it was also the clothes. Its hard material, scrapped violently against my skin threatening to abrade it until had completely disappeared.

I sat up from the rock solid bed, and walked towards the door. It had a small barred window, allowing the inmate to peak out. So I did. A huge metal plaque read 'Block B- Medium Security', next to an armed guard with a machine gun.

If this was medium, I dreaded to think what high would be like.

A Guard who was positioned outside my cell hit on the metal bars, and yelled at me to get back further inside the holding. For the first time in weeks, I didn't argue back. Electric jolts can zap you energy right out of you.

So I turned, and made my way back to my bed to sleep off my headache. But something slippy on the floor caused my canvas shoes to skid, making me lose balance and tumble to the ground.

I looked on the floor, and there lay a greetings card which front said 'Welcome!' surrounded by flowers and butterflies.

Hesitantly, I picked it up, grimacing- I'd never really liked supposedly 'girlie' things.

I slowly opened it up, keeping it at arm's reach in case it was some sort of trick. No deadly acid, or toxic gas sprayed out. Instead, all that happened was a message was scrawled onto the insides with red ink.

It read:

'Little Alice fell
d
o
w
n
the hOle,
bumped her head
and bruised her soul'

I let go of the card immediately, realising it hadn't been ink at all. It had been blood.

Still, it didn't wipe the smile off of my face. After all, the Joker did have one cruel sense of humour.

Author's Note: Thought this long chapter would make up for the wait you had to face for the last one! This may be my favourite chapter I have written yet, so I hope you all have enjoyed. I'm so excited to now be writing Part Two cause I can include all these other Batman characters and villians- plus Suicide Squad is getting me so pumped to see them all played out on the big screen! Thank you all for your comments, it really helps motivate me. Honestly, when I started writing I had no idea people would like my work so much. Thanks a million!