Arkham Asylum. Not the ideal place to be as a murderer, nonetheless under the care of Jonathan Crane. The fucking Scarecrow.

He was beautiful and calculated in all aspects, wicked and domineering over his victims. The ability to drive people insane by showing them their worst fears was truly a gift, and one that he took advantage of. Jonathan always had a deep curiosity about fear and psychology, thus, being able to induce it was a far more thrilling and insightful feat than just simply researching the topic. There was one problem, though. You. You were immune to his mask, immune to fear. You lacked the chemical in your brain that made you capable of anxiety and distress, making you a favored specimen. So much so, that he considered letting you off your leash and becoming his ally. You possessed the ability to deflect physical pain, making you that much more interesting.

He kept you in a large iron cage. Not a cell, a large cage. Dehumanizing you, since he couldn't get through to you with the mask. You were an experiment, a morbid curiosity with no motive that he couldn't look away from. You were bound to a muzzle since he quickly found out that you were rather violent.

Jonathan stepped into the cage, taking off his glasses. "We've made no progress with you. I'm not sure whether to let you rot or to keep prodding at the enigma before me."