#like literally i've got one that's just like his eyes flitting around a couple times and like he breathes

[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

One Amazing Summer Day 210803

[ailithnight]

A fic based on this prompt by @chaoswarfare that I had originally put in the reblogs, but decided to move to its own post since I've got some ideas to continue it. No promises on this ever being a completed fic, but I'll try.

A King in Arkham

Listless eyes trace the cracks in the ceiling; their owner blinking slowly from his place, lying nearly motionless on a thin mattress supported by a metal shelf held to the wall by thick black chains. His face is blank, not sad nor angry nor despairing like so many others in this cold and lonesome place. No, his expression is empty, as though there is simply nothing to feel.

Bruises and scratches and even a couple very deep cuts litter a small body. Were anyone watching, they'd see a new one appear as if by magic across a gaunt cheek. Even as blood begins weeping from the slash, not a single emotion flits across the face. Not even a flinch.

Tomorrow, doctors will assume the patient cut himself. They will search his cell, again, and find no weapon. They will search his body and find not so much as a fingernail capable of creating the mark. They will check the security feed and find, as always, that the moment of injury glitches; one second no cut, the next fresh blood. They will try to force the patient to admit self harm, but he will remain silent.

When the door to his cell swings open with a buzz and a clang, echoed by every other cell in the building, the blank faced boy with dull eyes doesn't move. It's the 6th time this month, and the 13th since arriving 3 months ago.

When the sounds of screams and rioting grate on sensitive ears, he merely sighs, the first hint of feeling flashing across his face in the form of a minute second of frustration before blankness returns. When a pair of escaping patients rush past, one stopping to ask if he's coming, he remains unresponsive.

"Leave him! Kid never tries to escape. He's to far gone."

The kid in question feels his eyebrow twitch. He's not 'gone' anywhere, thank you very much. There's just no point. Nowhere to go. No one to help him; to understand that he's not crazy, just haunted. At least, no one who won't turn him into a monster. A horrible, world destroying, viscious monster.

Besides, Arkham's not too bad. At least it isn't a GIW lab. And his rogues have even started showing up less and less since he was sent here! Though maybe that has less to do with Arkham or Gotham and more to do with the kid's utter refusal to even defend himself.

"Now come on before Bats start showing up and put this place on lockdown."

A black form with a red head drops from above, just barely within the kid's peripheral vision. A brief moment of recognition and even something adjacent to interest flickers in blue eyes.

"Bats like me, perchance?"

.

Red Hood was assisting containment with an Arkham breakout. There had been a lot of them in the last few months and Batman was getting grey hairs trying to figure out why. No one in particular was even trying to break out. No one could be pinned for the inciting incident. Just randomly, at any point in the day, the automatic locks would spazz out and everyone would be released.

So the big bad Bat had called all hands on deck, requesting at least one vigilante be at or near Arkham at all times, hoping to at least keep most of the big fish in their cages while they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. And Jason had graciously agreed to help. So here he was, at 3am on a Saturday morning; assisting guards in keep inmates corralled; keeping any eye out for any maximum security escapees.

With none spotted so far, and the people below him literally admitting that they're giving up hope when the Bats arrive, Jason figured he might as well see if a bit of scare tactic will convince them to go back to bed willingly.

"Bats like me, perchance?" The would be escapees in front of him startle and whip around.

"Red Hood?"

"The one and only." Jason shifts to not so subtlely place a hand on his weapons. "Now why don't you 2 just go on back to your rooms and we can forget this little infraction. I won't even tell the guards to write up a discipline slip." The two inmates eye him, then his guns, then each other warily. Finally, they both raise their hands in surrender and begin walking back to their cells.

Jason permits himself a quiet chuckle, much to low to be picked up by the modulator. As he turns back to grapple up to his bird's eye view in the rafters, his eyes catch sight of the inmate who apparently doesn't try to escape. For just a moment, green swamps his vision as Red Hood registers the sight in front of him.

He almost steps in to the cell before a harsh buzz sounds and cell doors clang shut again. An intercom crackles to life announcing the effective lockdown, instructing guards to begin escorting patients back to their cells, cataloging each attempted escapee for future disciplinary measures.

Batman's voice sounds out over comms.

Not a single inmate made it past the main gate. Good job Hood.

Jason seethes for moment longer in front of the cell before biting out his question on the main channel.

What the hell is a kid doing in Arkham!?

A strangled sound makes it through the feed and Nightwing responds, strained.

What?

A KID! Can't be older than 15. In cell... 26B. Looking rather roughed up, I might add. Since why does Arkham even accept minors?

Oracle responds.

Pulling records right now.

Jason eyes the kid, who seems to be entirely unfazed by Red Hood discussing his imprisonment 8 feet away from him. Actually, unfazed is the wrong word. Apathetic is better. Entirely emotionless. Green threatens Jason's vision again as he ponders the potential reasons for the look of resigned desolation on a face so young.

Looks like he was transferred over from a psych ward in Illinois 3 months ago. Ward of the State. File says self-destructive behavior. Apparently he picks up unexplainable injuries and claims ghosts gave them to him.

That still doesn't explain why they sent him to Arkham!

Batman's voice filters back in.

Hood, pull out.

Jason has to force himself to keep his voice down.

WHAT!? I'M NOT LEAVING A KID HERE!

It's almost 4am. Red Robin is on route to relieve you.

I AM NOT LEAVING A 15 YEAR OLD IN ARKHAM!

We will be investigating this further.

15! YOU KNOW, THE SAME AGE I WAS WHEN YOU LET ME DIE IN THAT FUCKING WAREHOUSE.

Jason almost regrets the statement as he here's Dick's stuttered breath. But it seems the kid might have heard him and something about the statement seems to catch his attention.

He actually turns his head to look quizzically at Jason. The expression only lasts a couple seconds before slipping back into blank neutrality as he turns back to the ceiling.

Batman's voice grinds in his ears, an edge in his tone telling Jason that if he doesn't listen, the Bat himself will come pull Jason out.

Hood, his transfer coincides with the start of these break outs. He may be involved. We will be investigating this further, very thoroughly. If he's clean, we will be getting him out of there. But for now I need you to pull out. File your report.

The tone softens.

And get some rest.