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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."