Hello there, and welcome to the show! Bex the Mongoose speaking. I know this first chapter is very short, but I had originally intended this to be a one-shot in three chapters, not the enormous story it has (eek!) become. So hang in there through the first few chapters – I promise the rest are lovely and long.
Hope you like!
"This way, now. We are now approaching the dining room - "
"Oh, joy," muttered Tory under her breath, but she nevertheless diligently followed her classmates down the bare concrete hallway. On either side were doors to private cells. Each door had a tiny window on the front. So far, the class hadn't really seen that many inmates – just a few in the lounge and a couple walking the halls. They'd been quiet and slow, rarely glancing up from the floor. Not at all what she'd expected.
Tory's footsteps slowed, then stopped. Her class had rounded a corner up ahead, but she could catch up in a minute. Slowly, as if stalking a wild animal, she approached the door to her right. Standing up on tiptoe, she peeked in the window.
Then screamed as a man's face flattened itself against the glass.
He older, a bit pudgy, with short-cut gray hair. He should have been bouncing grandchildren on his knee or sneaking out of work for a game of golf. Not clawing at the door like he could tear it down. Or staring at nothing with such wide, terrified eyes.
She flung herself back a few feet, her breath short with shock. He was mouthing something, his face contorted in fear. She couldn't tell what he was trying to say. Then suddenly, very faintly, she could hear him through the heavy door.
Tory bit her lip and blinked back tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered to no one in particular, and walked away, her shoulders hunched and her arms wrapped around her ribs. She'd been here all of fifteen minutes and she thought her heart was going to break. Thankfully, she wasn't planning on working in an asylum.
She was a transfer student. She hadn't been in Gotham when all of – that - had happened. But she'd heard a lot about it now that she was here. And what she'd heard had mainly centered around the former director of this very asylum. Dr. Crane, aka Scarecrow. They said that he was incarcerated here now. Tory earnestly hoped that she wasn't going to see him on this little field trip.
Field trip. Shit. Where was her class? Tory's steps quickened. She was pretty darn sure they'd turned left.
Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. I do not own Batman Begins. I do not own Dr. Jonathan Crane. And I would say something cute about that, like how if I DID own Jon I could keep him in my closet, but it's late and I can't really think of anything. Sorry.