Arkham Asylum: Under New Management. F - (2 Parts)

[Pilgrim]

[insert justifiable explanation for extended inactivity and self-deprecating yet charming introduction here]

Chapter 1: Original Prankster.

“Huh, Harley’s almost never late. I wonder what’s keeping her?”

Selina Kyle, better known as Catwoman, nodded vaguely at Pamela Isley a.k.a Poison Ivy’s observation and shifted her meal around with her fork, absentmindedly trying to determine what kind of vegetable it was. Prisoners who’d been on good behavior were allowed to dine communally in the mess hall once a day as opposed to in their cells, and the super criminals Poison Ivy, Catwoman, and Harley Quinn had decided to meet at the same table every weekend. While they hated being on their best behavior, it was a reliable source of entertainment and social interaction, something the inmates at Arkham rarely received. However, the meals were not allotted much time, and the criminal botanist was anxious to use every second of them with her friend. Soon enough, she showed up to the table, panting heavily and carrying her tray with shaking hands. Ivy noted how much like an average girl Harley looked without her costume and face paint. Somehow it always surprised her; the pig-tailed, grinning blond looked so different from the maniacal acrobat she was used to. Her thoughts were interrupted as Catwoman asked Harley the obvious question.

“Why’re you so out of breath?”

“Halls were closed…had to take a million different detours to get here…Guh, how’d you guys make it so fast? Your cells aren’t that much closer than mine.”

The two looked at each other, then Ivy answered, “We didn’t run into any detours. It was just a straight walk.”

“Huh. Guess it must’ve been bad luck…”

As she sat down, an enormous gurgling that reverberated through the mess hall belched from her seat, and every eye immediately turned to her. Flushing pink with embarrassment, Harley stated more loudly than necessary, “Guess someone slipped a whoopee cushion onto my seat! Heh heh…”

The other inmates returned to their meals, snickering and making quiet comments. Harley turned from pink to red and glared at her two tablemates, both of whom were struggling to suppress their laughter while still trying to speak.

“Not…not us.”

“Yeah, we…we didn’t rig your seat. Honestly.”

Harley inspected her chair carefully and found no evidence of a cushion or any other device. She turned back to the other two, who were still trying hard not to laugh in their friend’s face.

“But it wasn’t me! I swear!”

Seeing that her claim fell on deaf ears, her face went crimson with both frustration and further embarrassment, and she decided to preoccupy herself with her meal. As she moved to sprinkle salt on her unidentifiable food, the cap of the shaker fell off and showered it in the white powder.

“Oh great. Did you two rig this too?”

“We had nothing to, ehe, to do with it.”

“Hehe, yeah…ahem, really, we didn’t!”

Harley glared at the two, unsure of whether they were being sincere or not, and took a drink from her glass of water, which she immediately spat out.

“Ugh! What is this, dishwater?”

The two were giggling uncontrollably now, although Harley was now sure that they couldn’t have been the ones behind the pranks since the water had been with her since she got it. That didn’t stop them from thinking it was hilarious, however, and Harley was beginning to get fed up.

“Hey, you jerks, stop laughing at me! Can’t you see someone’s been playing me for a fool?”

Although Harley was her friend, Ivy Isley had often been partially irritated by her innate ability to laugh at any bad situation rather than react with concern like a normal person, and she couldn’t help but feel somewhat satisfied that for once she was the one laughing instead of Harley. And Catwoman just thought it was honestly funny.

“Aw, c’mon Harley. What’s the matter, can’t take a joke?”

Flushing bright red, Harley rose from the table and stomped off. Immediately regretting her words, Isley made to run after her, but Catwoman stopped her.

“She just needs to cool off. Besides, since when is it your responsibility to baby-sit her? I know that you’ve got a big-sister thing going on outside, but in here you oughtta spend more time worrying about yourself. Especially with that new guy running the place.

The green femme fatale nodded and sat back down. Arkham Asylum had recently acquired a new director, and while little was known about him, he’d begun to cause a great deal of unrest among the inmates. While he never appeared in person anywhere in the asylum, there were bi-weekly announcements from him over a newly installed intercom system that preached somehow ominous messages of “renewal” and “rebirth”. And not a day went by when he wasn’t having a crew remodel some section of the building. Most disturbing, however, was the fact that he’d only been around for a month and he’d already somehow turned Killer Croc, one of the most feared of all the prisoners, from a staunch truant into a part-time security guard. The leering gaze of the half-man, half-monster policeman had increased tensions throughout the building, and Ivy hoped she hadn’t given her friend too much extra stress.

Actually, Harley wasn’t all that hurt by being laughed at, but she didn’t want anyone, even Ivy, to think that they could get away with it. She’d made a scene so as to ensure the episode wouldn’t be repeated. Her primary concern was discovering who’d been playing all the practical jokes on her. After returning to her cell and pacing around it for five minutes, she decided that it was pointless to waste time on, that there was no use crying over spilt milk, and that it would probably never happen again anyways. Satisfied, and considering that it really had been pretty funny after all, she flopped onto her bed and was immediately engulfed in a cloud of black powder that stung her eyes, burned her tongue, and made her nose tickle furiously.

“WhaaaAATCHIEEW!!! Haitchieew Haitchieew, huh, HACHIIEW! Ha-Ha-HIETCHIEEW!! TCHIEEW! Haah, Ha-CHIIIEW HEE-CHIEEW HIETCHIEEW!!!”

In confusion, Harley rolled off the bed and wildly brushed at her face, trying to get the sneezing powder off her. As her fit lessened its hold on her, she rose to her feet and wiped at her eyes. Noticing a box of tissues on her bedside table, she snatched one and prepared to blow her nose, realizing too late that the tissues had also been laced with powder.

“EETCHIIIEW! HAITCHIEEW! HAATCHIIIIEEW!!! Eeh-Chiiiew Echiiew Ehe-Heh-HIETCHIEEW!!”

While her sneezes eventually died down again, her nose still tickled ferociously, and she knew she’d have to blow it long and hard before all the powder she’d inhaled was forced out, or there was no telling how long she’d be sneezing to expel it. Desperately trying to think of something in the room that her mysterious prankster wouldn’t have rigged with sneezing powder, her eyes fell on her dresser and she was struck with hopeful but disconcerting inspiration. Although her prison jumpsuit was undoubtedly booby-trapped with more of the stuff, there’s no way they would’ve put any in her underwear drawer. With a sniffly sigh, she pulled out her diamond-patterned red and black panties and buried her face in them to blow her nose, only to be met with the sensation that her head had been shoved in an ant’s nest. While they may not have had sneezing powder placed in them, it seemed as though they had been given a generous dose of itching powder. Harley began scratching at her burning eyes and nose, which now tickled more viciously than ever. As she spun crazily while scratching at her itching face, she lost her balance and landed face-first back on her bed, sending even more irritants into her nostrils.

“Oh ga-aaATCHIEEW! HIEETCHIEEW HII-CHIEWW!!! Hetchieew Heh-Shieew Heeh-Chieew-Chiieew-HetCHIIEEEWW!!!”

***

The next day, Catwoman and Ivy recoiled when they saw Harley. Her pigtails were frizzy and uneven, and loose strands hung across her face. Odd stains pockmarked her ruffled orange jumpsuit, and as she stumbled towards them they saw her shoelaces were gone. She sat down, and once again a loud gurgling was blasted from her chair. As the other inmates audibly chuckled, Harley flushed red with more anger than embarrassment, rose up and turned over her chair, running her hands over it frantically.

“What on earth are you doing?” Ivy exclaimed.

“Trying to find the speaker he put there. It must be triggered by remote. It’s always watching me…”

“What? What do you mean watching? Who?”

Harley turned to her friend with tears in her eyes. She thrust her head into Ivy’s lap and began sobbing. After overcoming her initial surprise, Ivy was about to begin stroking the hair of the poor young woman, but she retreated back as a fit of sneezing overcame her. Ivy handed her some napkins to blow her nose, which Harley greedily accepted the instant her sneezing stopped long enough for her to bring them to her face. After emitting several rough blows, she wiped her eyes and smiled in gratitude at Ivy, who had never seen a face so battered without physical attack. Harley’s eyes were red-rimmed and swollen with dark bags under them, and her nose was a deep red and badly chapped.

“Jeez, what happened to you?”

The Joker’s sidekick looked like she might cry again, but she bit her lip and began explaining.

“Someone’s out to get me, Red. I woke up this morning after having slept on the floor because my bed’s covered in sneezing powder…Hietchieew! Which was also planted in a spring-loaded launcher in my dresser, along with a bunch of clothes covered in more powder. The only suits that weren’t were ruined when I went to use the toilet and it exploded under me, when I walked to breakfast and the sprinklers rained on me, and when I went back to change and found it tied in a knot with my shoelaces. The only one I had left was this one, which I’d been using as a handkerchief yesterday.”

She blushed sheepishly. Ivy hugged her friend tightly, appalled at what had been done to her. Catwoman was suppressing laughter across the table, and had decided not to risk giving herself away by trying to talk.

“You said you knew who’d been doing this. What’s going on, Harley?”

She shook her head. “You won’t believe me. You’ll think I really am crazy.”

Ivy held Harley’s head in her hands, forcing her to stare straight into her eyes.

“C’mon. Trust me a little, huh?”

Harley sucked in breath, and Ivy though that she was steadying herself to reveal what had been tormenting her, but actually it was the start of another sneeze.

“EETCHIIIEW!”

As Ivy wiped spray off her face, Harley ran away out of the dining hall to hide in her cell once more.

“Wow. Someone really must have it in for her, huh?”

Catwoman snickered, but Ivy seemed not to hear her.

“Whoever it is…I’ll find them. And I will make them pay.”

Well, you'll see the coming day when the joke's on you

[Blah!?]

Muahaha. Good to see that you're back in town! And way to kick off your return! Nice work!

[Niceguy]

LOVE IT! (Obviously, see below.) Please continue!

[chui]

very cool!

[InLivingColor]

Otaku, a man after my own heart, first the WWE story now the Arkham story, awsome topics. I don't ever remember Catwoman being in Arkham, but they may just be me. Can't wait for the next instalement

[Pilgrim]

Arkham Asylum: Under New Management Part 2: Catwoman's Story

Chapter 2: Out Ta Get Me

Ivy sat at the table, counting the seconds on the wall clock. Many weeks after she had vowed to avenge Harley, her investigation had turned up nothing. What’s more, the situation was kept largely under cover. Catwoman, who had volunteered to help Ivy, went straight to Killer Croc with the problem, and was due to report back on anything she’d learned. After a couple of slow minutes, she sat across from Ivy, looking irritated.

“Well? What’s the deal? Why isn’t anyone helping her?”

“Apparently, they’re trying. Her cell is under 24-hour surveillance, even though she’s not classified as a big-leaguer, and Croc himself patrols her cell most nights. They can’t figure out how someone’s breaking in, and while they’re pretty uncomfortable about it, they don’t know what do. Actually, they seem to have a theory that she’s doing it to herself.”

“What? Why would she do that, unless…”

“She really was crazy? I dunno, Ivy. Maybe your girl really has finally fallen all the way off her rocker.”

Ivy sighed. She’d been worrying that might be the case herself. Not wanting to admit it, however, she decided to change the subject.

“What’d he say about the question I wanted you to ask him?”

“You mean about how Mr. Bigshot convinced him to join the security force? His exact words were, ‘Because he said he knew I wasn’t crazy, and that the only sane people in his asylum should either be doctors or guards’. Croc never had much of a bedside manner, so I guess the choice was obvious.”

Ivy nodded, thinking absentmindedly that Harley would’ve made the same joke. She’d begun taking her meals in her room ever since her secret attacker had used a crane to give her a thirty-foot high wedgie, and they hadn’t seen her for several days.

“So, how’d your talk with the Calendar Man go?”

Ivy snapped back to attention.

“He said that he didn’t actually see Clayface leave, he’d just assumed that he’d broken out and didn’t want anyone discovering the escape too quickly. Since his cell was directly across, he would’ve been the only witness, which means there were no witnesses.”

“You honestly think that it was a kidnapping and not an escape? Who the hell would want to capture Clayface?”

“Who the hell would want to torment Harley, or beat the crap outta Bane, or do whatever the hell happened to Scarecrow?”

They glanced over at his table at the end of the hall, where he sat alone without ever taking his eyes off of the room, the look of a frightened rodent glued to his face.

“You think they’re all related?”

“Listen, weird stuff has been happening ever since the new guy took charge. Even his treatments are insane. Look at Two-Face, he’s got him using dice instead of a coin now!”

“I have to admit, I’ve been awfully curious as to just what those shots they keep giving me do, and why they take a blood sample from you every day. Any idea why they need so much of yours?”

“Beats me. When I asked, the scientist just said, ‘Because it’s interesting’.”

“Hmph. Well, I guess as long as that’s the worse they do to us, we’re in good shape, huh?”

Ivy prickled and rose from the table.

“Some of us have others to think about.”

Catwoman leered at her as she stomped off. She never could figure out why Ivy had such an interest in Harley. It amazed her, that she’d be so considerate even while in prison.

“And they call me crazy.”

***

Back in her cell, Catwoman was awakened from a nap by the yell of a security guard out in the hall.

“New prisoners coming in!”

She bolted up to the door along with all the other inmates on her block, eager to get a glimpse of the new addition. She heard laughter echoing down the hall, and was puzzled until two guards arrived at her door and opened it, letting two familiar feline faces rush in.

“Max and Tyger, two of your former accomplices. The boss figured you wouldn’t mind them staying here, seeing as how there’s nowhere else for them to go, particularly.”

The guard left, chuckling, while Catwoman leapt onto the bed with her old friends.

“Oh, my dears! How wonderful it is to see you aga…ah-ahhh-Chou! What the-Echoo! Hetchoo!”

“Mrreow?” The beige-colored Max looked at his master quizzically, while the orange Tyger yawned disinterestedly. Catwoman recoiled from them, horror-stricken, as she felt her eyes and nose begin to itch.

“It can’t be…They couldn’t have…ACHOOO!!”

Suddenly, Catwoman began to form an idea about the purpose of those shot’s she’d been given. She leapt from the bed and began hammering on her cell door. When she saw Croc behind the guard who opened it, she resisted the urge to just start beating him up.

“You have to house these cats somewhere else. I’m…I’m…”

“Screwed” said a voice that didn’t belong to either Croc or the guard.

When Catwoman woke up, she was gagged and bound to a chair facing a desk in front of a tall window. A figure sat in an armchair behind it, covered in shadow.

“I’ll cut to the chase. Normally, I don’t allow the prisoners to learn too much about what their treatment is, but in your case it was a little too obvious to keep a lid on. Besides, I always did hate you the most; you’re just as bad as most of the lunatics in here, and you come closer to being sane than any of them. Here’s the deal: The cats stay with you, or they don’t stay in the realm of the living. Got it?”

Catwoman nodded, hoping that he would keep talking long enough for her to finish untying her ropes.

“Sorry boss, we got taken from behind and…Hey!”

A door behind her opened up, flooding the room with light and revealing the figure in the chair to be just a grinning skeleton.

“What the hell? What is this?”

“I have no idea, but knock her out and put her back in the cell! And try not to lose her again, will you?!?”

This time, Catwoman woke up to a profoundly less pleasant sight: her two cats looming curiously over her. In the same instant she felt comfort at their familiar faces, she felt her nose rebel against their presence.

“EH-CHOO! Ehhh-CHOO Heh-CHOO HETCHOO!!! TchooTchooTchooTchooTchooTchooTCHOO!! Ohhh, no.”

She whispered, horrified, as she waved the cats away. They obliged, confused, and made their way to the other end of the cell. This allowed their master to regain an uneasy control over her nose, but she could still feel the allergic tickle waiting for just the slightest irritation. She wiped her nose on her sleeve back and forth and sat up, unsure of what to do. There was no way she could give up her cats to…whatever it was, but how could she live with creatures she was allergic to? The fact that they were her friends made it even worse, and the infamous cat burglar felt sick from a combination of her new allergy and disgust at what it was doing to her. She fell back onto the bed, defeated, and sent a cloud of cat hair flying into her face.

“HAAAAH-CHOOOOO!!”

***

When Ivy next saw Catwoman, she almost fell backwards out of her chair. As her fellow inmate took a seat, using a handful of soggy napkins to wipe her swollen eyes and nose, she gasped, “Not you too?”

“Not exactly.” She blew her nose into the napkins and dabbed at her nostrils with them, wincing as the sand-papery texture met her sensitive skin. “I don’t know what’s going on, Ivy, but whoever’s behind all this seems to be working separate from the asylum management. They’re getting hit too.”

Ivy placed a hand on her forehead and sighed. “Great. So what’re we going to do?”

Catwoman felt a loose strand of cat hair ascend up a nostril and sneezed into her handful of napkins.

“ATCHOO! Haahhh-HATCHOO! I dunno, but we’ve got to think of something quick.”

Unfortunately for her, they did not think of something particularly quickly. Two days later, she was sitting miserable in her cell. Her eyes had puffed into near slits, and her nose was red, raw, and runny. A freckled rash covered her entire body. Even though the cats maintained as much distance as they could, their loose hair and relative proximity still took their toll. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could stand being so tormented by what she loved so much. As she sat in her cell, wiping her nose with a vertical motion using her palm, as no other methods could affect her over-stuffed sinuses, she heard footsteps outside her door. This caught her attention, because they were accompanied by no jeering from the prisoners. She could just make out the voice of Arkham’s new director, talking to someone who he was obviously answerable to.

“I know you thought my methods were a tad unorthodox, but you can see for yourself the results. Bane was an accident, I assure you, we didn’t mean for that to happen. You know how prisons are. Anyways, the others here are making significant progress. In a year or even sooner, we think a few may be ready for a parole of some kind. Supervised, of course…”

Catwoman looked out the tiny, barred window of her cell and gasped. The director was walking alongside Batman. She immediately began pounding on the door, certain that he would save her from the torture she'd been subjected to.

“Batman! Batman!”

“That’s Miss Kyle’s cell…”

“Open it.”

The director obliged, and Batman appeared in her doorway. She suddenly felt slightly embarrassed. Ordinarily, she’d be primed for seduction when they crossed paths, but now she had puffy eyes, pockmarked skin, and a nose that had clearly been harshly abused. She’d even noticed that it had turned up slightly from constant rubbing. To make matters worse, she’d forgotten that the cats were on the same side of the room as the door when she’d rushed over, and she felt a sneezing attack grip her. Nonetheless, she attempted a cry for help, knowing she might not get another chance.

“Help...ECHOO ECHOO HET-CHOOO!! Ahh-Ha-SHOOO! HESHOOO!!! Look-CHOO! Haaaah-Choo Ha-Choo Haaa-aaaah-AAHHH-TCHOOO!!! At what they…did…to…me…ETCHOOO!”

She gasped for breath, having used it all to talk and sneeze at the same time. Still, she noticed it. While the Batman’s expression did not change, she felt him bristle apprehensively. Which was not the reaction he should’ve had. She should’ve felt him recoil in surprise. He always knew so much that it was obvious when he didn’t know something, because he never prepared for it. That he wasn’t surprised now meant…

“You bastard!!! You knew about this!?! And you let them do it to me?!?!?!”

She made this accusation with multiple sniffles after each word, desperately fighting another sneezing attack, and her swollen eyes widened to almost normal size out of shock and anger. The Batman said nothing, merely turned and closed the door. And Catwoman would’ve yelled curses at him until her voice was hoarse, only another allergy attack took hold of her and she said nothing for several hours; she just sneezed and sneezed and sneezed.

They break down the doors and they rape my rights

[chui]

oooh...very nice!

[megacycle]

Awesome. Poor catwoman. :3