CATverse A/N: Don't know what the CATverse is? Check out catverse. com to find out.

This story takes place in arc five.

A/N: Once upon a time, the Captain and I tried to break into an asylum for the criminally insane. We failed, of course (not once, but three times!) but it makes a great story to tell at parties. It also makes a great basis for the following.


"You are all hereby sentenced to ten years in Arkham Asylum, or until such time you are deemed fit for reintegration into society."

The gavel slammed down with all the finality of an executioner's axe hitting the chopping block.

"Ten years."

"Ten years?"

"Years? As in three hundred sixty five days years years?"

"With the exception of leap years in which there are three hundred sixty-six, yes," the judge replied smartly, gathering up his paperwork and setting in order. "Bailiffs, remove the defendants."

Even as they were none too gently escorted out of the courtroom, the Captain, Al and Techie were having a bit of a hard time coming to grips with their sentences. Oh, they'd been in Arkham before, just never all three of them at the same time. At least when one of them was on the outside, there was a guarantee that they'd be busted out somewhat promptly.

The Scarecrow, on the other hand, might just conveniently 'forget' for a few months…

When the trio had been captured by Superman (and oh, hadn't that made Al happy as a wet hornet), they figured they were pretty much screwed until they were handed off to a few incompetent police. Sadly, the Metropolis Police Department wasn't as full of bungling rookies as they'd hoped and the opportunity to escape didn't present itself as anticipated. Even the Gotham PD was on the ball this time, which was most surprising of all and they were interrogated thoroughly before being sent--separately--to the county lockup. It had only taken a week to see them pushed to trial for grand larceny and the trial had only taken three days.

It was as if the universe was conspiring against them at every turn--almost like the police were purposely forcing them through the system as quickly and efficiently as possible.

As they were dazedly pushed through the doors to the courtroom, a couple of flashbulbs exploded, blinding the girls. They weren't exactly front page news--not like the Joker or even the Scarecrow--but they were definitely tabloid fodder. A few months earlier, after The Very Secret Memoirs of a Henchgirl had been exposed as a fraud, the hunt for the real author of the genuine bestseller was back on. Even now, there was a certain amount of interest in who'd written it and the sensationalist hacks who had no reservations about chasing the lead were here. After all, the first Memoirs had been written by an employee of the Scarecrow. It was only logical that one of these three was responsible.

"Will you be keeping a diary in Arkham?"

"Have you signed any book deals yet?"

"Which of you is dating the Scarecrow?"

"There are rumors of an Avant Garde film based on Memoirs, do you approve?"

Without waiting for them to blink the stars from their vision, they were ushered through the small cluster of reporters, outside and then down the courthouse steps. They were unceremoniously shoved into an armored van, cuffed to its walls and then locked inside.

The moment the doors slammed shut, they all looked at each other and cringed.

"We have to make a plan," Techie began.

Al cut her off. "They aren't going to let us stay together in Arkham."

"Only an idiot would let us stay together in Arkham."

"All the more reason to get the planning stages out of the way now," Techie said with maddening logic. "Besides, you know Arkham. There's always a way out. I mean, look how the Joker escapes on a regular basis."

"He's usually got Harley on the outside," Al replied in a grumble. "And if not, he's got henches to boss around. We don't have that kind of pull. We're just the hired help."

"So? Maybe we can convince someone else with pull to get us out. Say, have you talked to--"

The Captain glared at her friend. "We are not using the Joker."

"Why not? He likes me."

"Uh huh, he likes Harley, too. Harley who, need I remind you, is often tossed off buildings when convenient."

"How about Jervis, then?" Techie tried, turning to Al. "He's inside, isn't he?"

"Not this week," Al muttered darkly. "Edward is still on the outside, too. But I doubt we can expect a daring rescue."

"With Eddums, we might."

The Captain didn't look convinced. "One man trying to bust out three convicts? The probability of success is pretty much nil. He's smart enough to know that."

"We can't call in any favors, can we?"

"Nobody owes us." Al blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Nobody except Squish and Eddums."

"How about Penguin? Or Scarface? Or--"

"We're not as high up on the food chain as you'd like to think, Ops. We've got three reliably friendly contacts in Gotham. The others are neutral at best and sworn enemies at worst."

Techie frowned. "We're alone."

"Well, we do have each other."

"Yeah, until they separate us."

"You're so cheerful, Al," Techie snapped, her optimism finally spent. "Truly, a ray of sunshine."

"Oh, stuff it, Techie," Al said shortly. "It's not my fault we all got caught by Admiral Stick-Up-His-Ass."

Techie just grumbled under her breath and glared at nothing in particular. She always got sulky when holes were punched in the balloon of her brightness. How dare logic get in the way of her Carebear disposition? "But I don't want to go to Arkham."

"Ops, we're criminals. It happens."

"It shouldn't."

"Right. The bad guys in the black hats should always win. Never mind the statistics or the fact that if we did always win, that it wouldn't be any fun at all."

"You're just grumpy that Squish isn't going to come rushing in like the white knight."

Techie's face scrunched up. "He couldn't carry that much armor without tipping over. I do wish he'd make an effort, though."

"He'd only get hurt, captured and then where would we be? All of us, in Arkham. God, can you imagine group therapy?"

The bushy haired henchgirl groaned openly. "Therapy. I forgot they're going to make us go to therapy. I hate therapy."

"Look on the bright side," Captain said with a smile, "it might be group hug therapy. Hugs!"

"I wouldn't look so chipper if I were you," Al replied. "As of last week, Mr. Freeze is in the joint."

Captain's face fell. "Crap."