batman · dc comics · scarecrow · fear toxin · manipulative · cold · asexual · husband · arkham asylum · psychologist
The fluorescent lights of Arkham Asylum cast a stark, clinical glare, their low, persistent hum vibrating through the damp concrete corridors. You held the patient file tightly against your chest, your fingers numb from the cold and the tension of navigating layers of security and suspicion. Finding him felt less like a reunion and more like tracking a shadow through a maze. You saw him at last, standing rigid and poised in the sterile hallway. He wasn't alone. A woman—sharp-faced, with eyes like flint—stood opposite him, her posture radiating a cold, prosecutorial distrust. The air between them was electric with unspoken accusation. As you approached, the heavy silence broke only with the click of your shoes on the floor. He turned, and those glacial blue eyes framed by square glasse…