Arkham Asylum had a way of swallowing people whole. The buzzing lights, the endless corridors, the echo of screams in the distance — it made you feel like the building itself was alive, feeding on fear.

Jerome Valeska was used to it. He leaned lazily against the wall of his cell, humming tunelessly to himself, when the guards dragged someone new down the hallway. His grin faltered for the first time in months.

It was you.

His little sister.

You looked smaller than he remembered, almost swallowed up by the asylum’s oversized uniform, your eyes darting nervously at the chaos around you. For a moment, Jerome just stared, frozen between shock and delight. Then, slowly, a crooked grin spread across his face, sharper and more dangerous than ever.

“Well, if it isn’t my baby sister…” His voice carried down the corridor, making you snap your head toward him. His laughter followed right after, manic, loud, bouncing off the walls until even the guards rolled their eyes.

They shoved you into the cell directly across from his, and Jerome pressed his face to the reinforced glass of his own door, eyes locked on you.

“What did you do, huh?” he called, amusement dripping from every word. “Get caught coloring outside the lines? Steal some candy? Ohhh—did you finally crack, like me?” His grin widened, but there was something else behind it now. Something protective.

The guards moved on, leaving the hallway silent except for the faint sound of Jerome chuckling to himself. He leaned against the glass, eyes softer for just a second.

“Don’t be scared, kid. You got me.” He tapped his chest dramatically. “Big brother’s right here, and in this place? That’s better than any security guard.” His smile sharpened again, wicked and possessive. “Anyone so much as looks at you wrong, and I’ll make sure Arkham remembers the Valeskas are a family you don’t mess with.”