A/N: I have been anticipating and dreading starting the chapters that occur during chapter 4 of the game, especially here at the beginning where Bruce is in the asylum because I don't entirely know how I want to swing the Joker. Surely, with how I've been writing the story, Bruce has met Joker before but at the same time, if I'm following the story, then Joker isn't a thing yet so….

Thx!

AMM

You have to face the truth sometime

Rage. All consuming, out of control, rage. And he was asking for it. I grin to myself at the satisfying crunch of his nose breaking.

Retribution, Bruce!

No, I have better control than this. I don't let my rage consume me. I don't-I can't stop myself, can't do anything as my fist swings through the air and makes repeated, bloody contact.

"No," I gasp, shooting straight up, unable to catch my breath, stop the ringing in my ears, or make the pounding in my head cease. I try taking a few deep breaths when I can finally pick up on something outside of the blood rushing in my ears. Thunder. Rain.

I glance to my left and notice the iron bar-reinforced windows. As my eyes sweep around the room I'm in, dread settles deep in my stomach. "Oh, god." The walls are covered in decrepit and loose tiles, a shitty, small, old dresser sits beside the cot I awoke on, a leg cracked and causing it to lean towards the bed. "What is this place?"

My head falls into my hands and I rub my temples, trying to collect my thoughts when I notice the draft, goosebumps appearing across my skin. I glance down and notice I'm in nothing other than my boxers, my clothes missing and scars on display. But then I catch a glimpse of my hands and the dark blue veins pulsing closely beneath the surface of my hands. "What-"

"Get up! Breakfast!" A harsh banging and gruff voice shouting from the other side of a steel door, the only door, pulls me from my head.

"Okay! I'm up! I'm up-" I move to stand but my legs immediately give out beneath me, my vision blurring. I press my forehead to the disgusting tiles, the cold ceramic offering welcome relief for my pounding head.

"And for Christ's sake! Put some clothes on! Doctor's making the rounds soon." I manage to push myself up onto my feet, the world still spinning and pulsing with fuzzy colors and it takes me a moment to realize what he said.

"Doctor? What doctor?" I ask but don't get a response. Turning back towards the crappy dresser and cot, I notice dried blood all over the sheets and suddenly whenever I was last conscious comes flooding back.

I was forced to step down as CEO, forced to renounce myself but I refused to go quietly, choosing to go off script. I had been so angry that I was being tossed out like trash and that the board was having a criminal take my seat. Then I'd gone into the crowd and all of the sudden I was just overcome with rage and I couldn't make out what was up or down, wrong or right, good or bad. I had believed that I would face no consequences, that the only thing I could do is take out Oz, stop him, no matter the cost. It felt like I would die if I dared to even begin thinking about disagreeing with the desire for violence against my childhood friend.

"Is that my blood?" I glance down at myself again, looking for a sign of fresh injury but not seeing anything aside from the nasty electrical burn on my chest. There's some speckling of blood but otherwise the wound is clean. Hopefully no one was super curious about my wounds. "I hope it's my blood." I mutter before noticing the security camera in the corner, over the foot of the bed.

I stupidly try the door knob, not knowing what I would do if it were to open while I stand here in my boxers. Then, just beside the door frame, I see an indentation in the tiles, evidence of someone taking out their anger. Stray tiles litter the floor beneath the indentation, not able to hold on to the no longer smooth wall. "Looks like someone was angry." I hold up my hands but can't tell if I was the culprit seeing as how my knuckles are already roughed up from beating the shit out of Oz.

An eerie, high pitch whine echoes in my ears and the room suddenly pulses, my anger flaring at the thought of the Brit. I grit my teeth and try to breathe through it, relieved when it quickly subsides. Stepping back from the damaged wall, I spot a chair shoved tightly between the foot of the bed and the wall, a jumpsuit on it. And I know before I even look at the logo on the chest where I am.

Arkham Asylum.

"This can't be happening." I mutter under my breath before begrudgingly putting the stiff, pale gray clothing on.

I've hardly pulled the shirt over my head when more pounding sounds at the door. "You better be decent!" The man shouts, voice thick with what sounds like a Boston accent when the door suddenly swings open. A balding man steps in, sneer seemingly a permanent fixture on his face if the frown lines mean anything.

"You settled? Good." Settled? "Anything you need? Water? Piss? Rat poison?" Poison? What kind of facility are they running here? Arkham's worse than I thought if the orderlies are offering poison. "I've been asked for rope before. Not really allowed to give it out. Of course, I could make an exception for you." His sneer melds into a cruel smile for a second, apparently happy at the thought of me possibly wanting to kill myself.

I only know so much about Arkham. For fighting most of the inmates that escape and having to send them back here, Arkham's remained pretty good about keeping secrets and remaining a mystery.

"Why am I here? Do you know who I am?"

"Sure I do." The grin turns dark and mocking. "Bruce Wayne," he sneers. "The spoiled brat that nearly beat his replacement to death when they took away his company. And now you're here, exactly where you belong." He turns to walk out the door when I hear footsteps converging on my cell.

"Might as well get comfortable!" He says over his shoulder. "This is your new home now. Time to meet your neighbors." Two inmates appear behind the orderly. One moves to step into my cell but I see the orderly pass off a taser in exchange for cash to the second inmate. Great. "As you were," the orderly says before slamming the door shut behind him, leaving me with the two men.

"You look just like him," the one with the taser says, stepping forward with cruel intentions written all over his face. Not wanting to draw any extra attention to myself if I were to fight, or risk the drug possibly kicking back in, I back away, cornering myself as the two men close in. "Your father ever tell you about me? How he sent me here? Left me to rot in this goddamn hellhole?" As my adrenaline begins to pump and I feel my back hit the wall, my vision blurs, my head begins to pound, my blood rushes in my ears, and my rage boils.

The drug is still very much so in my system and apparently takes very little to kick into drive.

"Somebody's gotta pay for that!" The man hisses. "I hope to god there is a hell! I want your daddy to see what I do to you!"

If I weren't under the influence of this god awful drug, I would bite my tongue and refuse to take the bait. But at the surge of anger I feel as he spews dirt on my father's name, I lose some of my barely managed control.

"Go on then!" I snarl. "Hit me!"

"Don't get cocky, Wayne," the man takes a step back, his face a mixture of surprise and annoyance. But out of nowhere, the other man throws the first punch, getting me good in the jaw. That'll bruise.

Then I hear through the whooshing still happening in my ears, the sound of the taser. The chatty inmate lunges at me but I quickly knock the taser out of his hand, sending it skittering across the tile and towards the door.

Through the haze, I'm still trying to keep a grip on myself, knowing that if I truly get into an altercation with these two men, I'll get myself into more trouble, especially if I'm the one who knocks them out since they were the ones who've been living rough in the asylum far longer than I have.

The inmate who punched me a moment ago grabs my shoulder, pushing me one way before throwing a punch into my side. It's going against my every instinct not to block the hits as they come and the drug is making it even more difficult. A quick glance at my arms shows the dark blue veins creeping further up my arms, growing darker the longer this fight continues.

I'm grabbed from behind, a hand covering my face as another arm slings across my chest, pressing harshly into my electrical burns when something sharp jabs into my neck, my entire body locking up before I go limp, barely managing to curl into a ball as my body jolts from the electric shocks of the taser coursing beneath my skin. It only takes a moment before both men are on me, kicking me, punching me, stomping on me.

They each are shouting at me, calling me names and mocking me and I feel like a weak child who's being beaten up by his bullies. But the taser must have been set above a normal shock level because I can't move, even as the drug in my veins calls me to end these two miserable idiots.

I close my eyes, wanting to fucking disappear when a voice suddenly calls out into the room and the abuse stops. "The welcoming committee has really gone downhill around here, hasn't it?" My eyes crack open as the drug begins to wear away, leaving me feeling drowsy and exhausted.

Through my half-lidded eyes, I see another inmate has let himself in, easily taking down the two men who had been wailing on me. As the second inmate falls to the ground unconscious, I finally find the strength to start pushing myself up.

"Who are you?" I ask weakly, hating the way my voice stutters and my limbs shake. I've been through worse than this! I need to get up!

The man turns with an abnormally large smile before he notices my appearance. He approaches, kneeling down in front of me with concern. "Buddy, aw buddy, are you okay? You don't look so grand." Now that he's closer, I notice that along with the wide smile, his skin is ghostly white and his hair has been poorly dyed to a bright green color. "More like the opposite. What would that be?"

I don't have the patience for this guy's oddities. "Does it look like I'm okay?" I growl.

He simply chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. "Not one bit." He agrees.

The door to my cell opens again, this time a doctor and a different orderly steps in. "What is going on in here?" The doctor demands, eyeing the two unconscious inmates, the man in front of me who has stood to address her, and myself.

"It's like I told you, doctor! These creeps were attacking the new guy!"

"Well, who did that? Was it you?" She gestures to the two men lying on the ground.

"Of course not," the guy says, rolling his eyes. What is his game? Come in to stop them but then tell the doctor that I did it? I didn't and the last thing I need anyone believing is that I can. "It was mostly over by the time I got in. The new guy is tougher than he looks! Right, buddy?" he holds a hand out for me as the doctor steps closer.

"Bruce, is that really what happened?" she asks, seeming unsure.

"Go on, tell her," the man taunts and there's something maniacal that sparks in his eyes. Not wanting to risk pitting this lunatic against me as well, I roll my eyes and agree.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what happened." I reluctantly take the guy's hand and he pulls me to my feet as the doctor looks at me sternly, reminding me of Regina to a point.

"We have a very strict no-fighting policy here in Arkham. If you can't obey that rule….you're going to find yourself in hot water fast." So what, I was supposed to sit here and let myself get beat up by the guys on the ground?

"The orderly that was here before took money from these men and let them into my room! He gave them a taser!" The doctor looks sympathetic, nodding and seeming to believe me.

"I knew that you coming to Arkham could cause some….excitement, but I didn't expect it to happen so fast." She admits. "I'll do my best to keep you safe but I need you to be careful." I offer a single nod, understanding.

"Us nice guys got to stick together, am I right?" The weirdo speaks up and I want to glare at him. I don't trust him. I don't trust anyone at the moment.

"Come to me if anything happens." She stresses.

"Thank you. I appreciate the effort."

"I'm glad you're so understanding after what just happened?" What, the men on the floor or the man I left bleeding on the front steps of my company? "Good thing help wasn't far away." She gestures to the man beside her.

"Hey, I'm just looking out for the new guy." He gives me an unnervingly big smile and his eyes widen enough to see white all around the iris.

"I'm Dr. Joan Leland, by the way. Head of psychiatry. I'll be overseeing your case personally." I want to yell and scream that I'm not here because of my mental state, that I didn't attack Oz just because. It's this drug. If they'd look at my arms or ran my blood, they'd see it but I know they wouldn't believe me. "We'll get you transferred to a new room, Bruce. One that doesn't have your…." she trails off, gesturing to the cot. "-blood all over it." Well, it's a relief to know it's mine. "For now, follow me."

The other man and the orderly move to follow her but I stop my so-called savior before he leaves. "I'm sorry. I don't think I ever got your name…."

"Me?" he begins an eerie chuckle as he continues moves to follow Dr. Leland, who stops in the doorway to turn back towards me.

"He's never given his name to anybody."

"What?"

"We just call him John Doe." She says as she turns to continue out of the cell.

"Bingo," the man-John-says sinisterly, falling into step behind me. I don't trust him but can't exactly get behind him without causing suspicion.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?