Chapter 1 - Chains, Bolts & straightjackets

Batman :



Chains, Bolts & straightjackets



Gotham…

Probably one of the most dangerous places in the entire world.

If it weren't for the Batman. He's locked up hundreds of criminals in Gotham jail, and put even more deranged psychopaths behind bars in the Arkham Asylum. Batman himself is just as disturbed and traumatized as any of the mass murderers he's defeated, but most people in Gotham don't bother as long as he puts away the others.

Batman usually kicks bad guy @$$ without to much troubles, because there's usually only one or two major bad guys on the loose, while the rest is rotting away in Arkham.

This time, it was different though…

It all started when Arkham got a very special visitor: Jonathan Crane…



It was a stormy night, as it usually is in Gotham, when a car stopped at the Arham Asylum. Mud splattered all over the vehicle. The motor stopped roaring and the door swung open. A pair of bare feet, with long, unmanicured nails, planted themselves in the soil. Their owner followed them out of the car and slammed the car door shut. It wouldn't close thought, because someone seemed to have forced the door open earlier on. Ignoring this small flam of his newly gained vehicle the man started stepping towards the entry gate of the Asylum, through the mud. He took huge steps in a sort of clumsy manner. He had enormous, long, thin legs. He was extremely large and had his long arms hanging at his sides. He might look huge already, but if the skinny man would stretch out he'd probably be even larger. He was wearing a slightly stained, brown suit and a broad-rimmed, pointy hat, like a scarecrow would wear. He had reached the iron gate that said “All who pass here, let all hope fare”. He briefly looked up at the inscription and smiled broadly. He stepped towards the double doors of Arkham and clutched on to the door knob. He's fingers were extremely long and bony and they had even longer, filthier nails then his toes. He entered and walked through the corridor, towards the counter with the head-nurse. Except for her there were three doctors in the room and another nurse. All of them were looking at him. In theory he could be a visitor for one of the patients, but then again no-one ever visited the patients. The man looked too shabby to be a doctor or a psychiatrist, but he was too well-dressed to be a beggar. With a voice like cold steel that caused chills to run down their spines he said “Could you tell me where I might be able to find the head-doctor, miss …”, he bended down to look at her name-tag, “Victoria Marple ?”. He didn't speak like a beggar either, he sounded more like he was a teacher, a very strict one. A little bit intimidated by the visitor, Victoria said: “He's probably in he's office, at the end of the hall”. The Scarecrow smiled again, nodded and started stepping in the indicated direction. One of the doctors who wasn't as surprised as the head-nurse blocked his way and said “I'm sorry, sir, but I can't let you pass without an appointment”. The smile disappeared from his face abruptly. Trying not to anger this huge man the head-nurse said: “I could make you an appointment, mister”. “No”, the man responded, “I don't have the patience for that, I think I'll just do it my way…”. He plucked a straw from his hat and suddenly the room seemed to have changed into a pit filled with snakes, a lake of boiling-hot lava, or whatever scares you most. The doctor backed away from him and, when he reached the wall, lay down in fetus position, covering his eyes and screaming. Some of the others fled down the corridors and the head-nurse hid behind the counter. But where-ever they'd go, eyes open or not, the horror would follow them. Now the Scarecrow smiled again and he hopped through the hall, while scratching the walls with his fingernails. He kicked down the door to the head-doctor's office and stepped inside. Jeremiah Arkham, the head-doctor, jumped up from his desk “Scarecrow! How did you get in here!”.

“Pleased to meet you too, would you be so kind as to hand me the keys? As for how I got in, let us say that your staff is occupied right now…”.

“If you think you can just barge in here, pretending you own the place, you're dead wrong, Scarecrow!!!”

“I don't think it would be wise of you to delay me any further or I will be forced to let you share your colleagues nightmares”

“Very well…”. Jeremiah slowly slid open the drawer of his desk and grabbed in it. Then he suddenly drew out a gun and pointed it at the Scarecrow, or at least, at where he thought the Scarecrow was… All he saw however, was an empty spot.

“Ts,ts,ts,that was not very wise, doctor…”, the Scarecrow said from behind him, while waving his finger. Jeremiah tried to turn around, but it was to late: the Scarecrow twisted his arm behind his back until he let go of the gun and he heard the sound of metal clashing against the floor.

“Now, dear doctor, please hand me the keys, I'm afraid I won't ask nicely again”

Jeremiah went in the drawer with his hand again and this time he took out the keys.

“Thank you very much”, said the Scarecrow while tucking away the doctor's gun and walking towards the door. A faint smile appeared on Arkham's face. Suddenly the Scarecrow turned around and said: “I'll be needing the other key too, doctor”.

“What, what do you mean, Scarecrow, those are all my keys!”

“Oh, but I don't mean the kind you can hang on a keyring, doctor,…”, he said and he took a stiletto out of his suit, “…I'm astonished you thought no-one would find out you added an iris scan to the system…”.



Jeremiah lay on the floor of his office, his face covered with blood, his glasses in the corner of the room. He pulled himself up on his desk and stumbled to one of the glass cabinets. He tried to pull it open, but it was locked and the Scarecrow had taken the keys. So he smashed the glass with his elbow. Like a few scratches and a little more blood would make the difference. He grasped one of the packs of painkillers out of the glass cabinet and made his way towards the phone on his desk. Trembling, he dialed the number. He held the receiver next to his face and said: “Commissioner Gordon, we have a problem”.

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