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[center]Chapter 1:  A Cut Below[/b][center]

The building was dilapidated, and dank, and mold could be spotted growing in the corners where the floor met the wall.  It was definitely an official building, judging from the various signs on the walls telling whoever glanced at them what was and what was not allowed inside, even though the room seemed to be more of a danger itself than anything anyone could bring inside, except for maybe a large bomb of some sort.  There was even electricity crackling between open wires hanging from the ceiling.  Whatever city the building belonged to either did not care, or simply didn't have the budget for repairs.

It felt like home.

Jonathan Crane stepped out of the glowing green portal, itself having appeared in the room just before he did.

Beside him stepped out a figure in black and blue combat armor with an opaque silver visor. She had her machete and knife on her, along with several grenades, but only two guns, as per usual. This venture, the soldier had taken her Seeker Rifle sniper rifle and her M6C/SOCOM handgun, on her back and at her hip respectively. She walked in, her arms crossed, and spoke, her voice the only thing giving her gender away.

"So what the hell did I have to come with you about? I know the why on why I have to go with you, but not where or the reason we're here."

Azumi Ian was [i]not[/i] in a good mood.

The Scarecrow frowned beneath his mask.  He didn't particularly enjoy interacting with Ian, unless it involved her insulting people he didn't like, usually Rikka, or Levins, but that moron had died recently, hadn't he?  This, of course, just added to the large amounts of evidence he had been compiling to prove that idiots eventually died of their own idiocy.  Which, of course, meant he would outlast quite a few people.

"Apparently madame goddess complex doesn't believe that I am capable of accomplishing things on my own, even in [i]my[/i] territory.  Believe me, I would much rather be here without you."  He stopped himself before launching into a rant.  "But I digress.  I believe that this is the prisoner holding area of Gotham's courthouse."  He neglected to mention he so easily recognized it because he had been locked within a cell in the room himself many times, "A rather inconvenient place to land, I admit."  Scarecrow briefly wondered if there was a way to control the portal's landing place, but quickly filed this idea away for later, as his thoughts were interrupted by a voice emanating from the holding cell.

"Thirty days has November...  April, June, and Semptember...  Of twenty-eight is but one..."

Curious, and somewhat recognizing the voice, Scarecrow crept closer to the holding cell, looking at the person within.  He was overweight, and wore the familiar orange jumpsuit.  Crane thought he caught a glimpse of writing on the back, but the man was turned at such an angle that he was not able to see it.  There was some sort of brace attached to his leg, meaning he bore some sort of injury.  One could guess easily what caped crusader caused the leg injury.  The man had the abbreviations of the months of the year printed on his head, starting on his forehead and going all the way around.  The strange tattoos were the tipoff Scarecrow needed to guess the man's identity.  Crane moved closer to the cell, looking through the bars.

"Mister Julian Day.  Calendar Man."

Calendar Man looked up, as if just now noticing the masked man staring at him.  "Ah, Doctor Crane.  A pleasure to meet you again.  It was a joy working with you for the feast day of Saint Roch, that August some time ago."

The Scarecrow smiled beneath his mask.  "Ah yes, I created that strand of fear toxin that caused hydrophobia.  It worked wonders in a sweltering city in the middle of August, didn't it?  It was rather ingenious of you to use the dogs, as well."

"You flatter me, Doctor Crane.  I don't suppose you would allow me out of here?"

Scarecrow glanced at the calendar in the corner of the room.  "Of course not."

Azumi looked over at the obese man. He did seem polite... but so did Ignis... She shuddered at the mere thought of him, of what he...

Silence again, but she did listen to them. Yes, a partner in crime. She did see the other cells around, assumed she probably could use them... Time to rethink things.

She looked over to Calendar Man, then to the calendar itself, the holidays marked off in circles of red ink. "Out the back or the front?" she asked flatly, not paying too much attention to him. "You'll be going first, of course. I'll need the cover."

Scarecrow rolled his eyes, although one couldn't see them.  He could create barriers and shields with his Ring, of course, but he highly doubted Azumi was speaking of actual shields.  He was aware a great many people wouldn't mind seeing him riddled with bullets.  His fear toxin tended to change their minds.  Unfortunately, he couldn't use his toxin on Ian, as per the contract obligations, so he would just have to put up with it.  Therefore, he chose too ignore her gibes for the most part.

"And who is this young woman?"  Calendar Man asked, spotting Azumi from his cell.  "She reminds me of another beautiful lady.  Ah, but she tragically passed away some years ago, on Saint Valentine's Day, no less.  Smothered."  Julian Day smiled, eyes wandering as if drifting in a fond memory.

"Such an interesting psyche."  Scarecrow said, turning away from Calendar Man.  "But no time to analyze him now.  Now, I believe that the back entrance would be safest, as we are quite near to there, and there don't appear to be any guards..."  It was then that it struck him.  Scarecrow turned, and looked out the room into the hallway that would lead to the courtroom.  "Where are the guards?"

"You've been gone for far too long, doctor."  Calendar Man spoke up again.  "Eighteen months, to be exact.  In that time, Quincy Sharp has be com mayor of Gotham, and instituted 'Arkham City'.  An entire district, perhaps even half the city, according to some rumors, has been converted into our new prison."  Calendar Man paused, then added, as if it were the most important point, "You've missed quite a few holidays."

"Eight months?  Impossible, I've been gone for only two, at the most."  Of course, the other news was the most surprising.  Arkham [i]City[/i]?  Really?  Scarecrow was beginning to think Sharp belonged in his own asylum.  It at least explained the lack of guards, if this entire section was being dedicated to the new 'prison'.

"If this is all apart of the new, ah, [i]facility[/i], then why are you locked in here?"

Calendar Man frowned at this.  "This was originally my base of operations.  And then Two-Face came.  His forces were superior than mine.  They attacked me, and locked me in this cell.  In fact..."  Day looked up, and cocked his head to the side, listening.  "I believe Two-Face is dispensing some of his 'justice' at this very moment."

Azumi similarly listened carefully. She could hear it, and looked to Crane. "Cheering. A lot of it. Sounds like men up there. Probably should check it out. Lead the way."

Scarecrow nodded, and cautiously headed out of the cellroom, walking through the hallway towards the courtroom. Wanting just a peek, and to not get too close to Dent, Scarecrow opted out of taking the stairs to the balcony above, instead choosing to look carefully through the door to the first floor.  Inside, there was a veritable mob of thugs, some armed.  Two-Face himself was standing on a stage, flipping a coin constantly. As usual, at the right side of him, he was clean cut, dark hair slicked back neatly, dressed in a mostly white suit. Of course, that was different with the rest of him. The left side of him had been badly burned, his suit, seemingly black on that side, ripped and torn at the sleeve, skin very nearly burnt off from his face to his arm, some muscle tissue exposed.

Next to the stage was a vat of some sort of chemical, most likely dangerous, around which was a red curtain, obscuring whatever was inside.  However, one could see a rope above the curtain, leading to the conclusion that someone was being hanged above the vat.  Ah, so it was an execution.  Although there was no doubt that the former district attorney's obsession with justice would lead him to give whomever was about to die a 'fair' trial, via coin flip.

Azumi looked out, flashing her VISR. Fantastic, a room of reds, that guy at the top not being much better. Still, she stayed out of sight, listening and waiting.

The clean half seemed to be the one that spoke first, far more level of a tone than the words he had given earlier that night. He twirled the coin, over and under his fingers, as he spoke to himself. "The only way to get by in this place is to get us some respect."

The scarred half came next. "[i]Fear.[/i] That's how we get respect. Show them how [i]we[/i] do things."

Well great, Harvey Dent still had his internal arguments, as per usual. Something to use against him, anyway. Possibly. Maybe.

The clean half seemed a bit scared. "We should be fair, though. This is a place of justice, after all."

Scarred again. "[i]Screw[/i] justice! Kill them, and they'll [i]all[/i] fear us." He turned around, looking to the others around, those who seemed to be dressed like the people from his old office. "Bring out the defendants!"

As the red curtain fell and immediately dissolved into the acid bath, both were visible. Held up by their ropes, tied behind their backs and over their legs, as well as around the waists to keep them together, back to back, spinning a bit. Catwoman seemed to be awake, at least, her outfit making Azumi scowl. That catsuit... she hated it so much. "Such a wh***..." she muttered subconsciously. The other just made her blurt out, barely audible, however, over the shouts. "Oh sh**."