Bruce had never been a fan of aliens. They were an unknown. An unpredictable threat. He saw his friendship with the Kryptonian Kal-El as an exception to these rules, and the only one that he was willing to accept. So, when an alien vessel crashes in...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Arkham Asylum was located on the outskirts of Gotham, near the industrial district. It housed over two thousand inmates, all deemed mentally unstable by the state. Due to its location near populated areas it had not been redesigned to hold powerful or alien criminals, like Stryker's Island Penitentiary. It simply existed as a place to throw the villains that weren't strong enough to warrant special attention, but were still regarded as a danger to society.
Ralph Lorrel had been working in Arkham for exactly two weeks and five days as a prison guard. He boasted an unassuming mustache, which was perched atop his upper lip cautiously, as though it were slightly embarrassed to be there and would like to slide away and become a sideburn or something more fashionable. His eyes looked almost apologetically green, and he was so generally uninteresting that he often vanished into the background.
Scoring a job at Arkham had been the highlight of Ralph's career, which was quite sad because the place was easier to find work at than a fast food restaurant. The truth was that no one wanted to work there, and those that did, either ended up dead or injured within a few months. Well, that's what people said anyway...Ralph didn't believe a word of it. After all, what kind of prison would still be running with so many break outs?
"Anything interesting happen today, Louis?" Ralph asked, steering the dinner trolley towards the security door.
A guard, armed with both a baton and a pistol smiled and pressed his hand against a biometric scanner. "Nothin' yet, mate. Few of these loons were screaming at each other through the bars but they can't do much damage."
"Sounds like fun," Ralph replied sarcastically, watching as the door gave a distinct 'click'; the sound of it unlocking. "What time you finish?"
"Five-thirty, you?"
"Six," Ralph chewed on his bottom lip as Louis opened the door for him. "Maybe we could...you know...go get a drink after work?"
Louis gave an airy laugh, hazel eyes shimmering under the fluorescents. "Didn't think you'd ask after last week."
Ralph tried to hide his flustered expression behind long locks of brown hair. He didn't want to think about that little...incident. He had gotten wasted, completely embarrassed himself at the bar and ended up running home without telling Louis. So much for a first date. "Yeah, let's just forget that ever happened...please?"
Louis reached out and swiped the hair away from Ralph's face. Now there was nowhere to hide the red flush assaulting his features. "It's already forgotten. We can talk about it once you've fed these assholes."
Grinning like a madman, Ralph passed into the cell block, placing plates of microwaved pasta through small security slots to the inmates. He had only just finished his rounds when a loud, blaring alarm pierced the air. One by one, the lights switched off until the only thing keeping the prison lit was the distant ebb of Gotham city and the moon above it; shining through the narrow, barred windows like a beacon.
