It wasn't hard to get in as it wasn't hard to get out. Arkham Asylum was like that, and the people managing it wouldn't care enough.

Jason was deliberate. Slow steps, quiet too, he wasn't stupid. He heard screams far away, maybe from the other wing, and he heard whispers, quiet pleas for sanity and freedom. He heard laughs from the ones too far gone into a madness abyss.

He would've shivered, would've winced. And if he did, his helmet didn't give it away.

Eyes on him, soft calls trying to lure him in, to free those lunatics from their imprisonment one... One he put them in. The big bad Bat. He grumbled under his breath at the thought. He had to focus.

And when he did... God. He smirked.

Fuck, he started whistling even, walking in the Asylum like it was a stroll in the park. He realized how stupid everything was, why was he here in the first place? Why would he willingly put himself there?

So he pictured your face, your hands throwing punches at him but exploring his skin too, your legs running away or after him but also trembling over his shoulders. Your pretty, pretty mouth telling him to 'fuck off' or some snarky comment but also around his–

No, he couldn't afford to get hard in Arkham. That would be a whole new level of messed up he couldn't afford. Yet.

He met you at Crime Alley, carrying a bag way too big with a shiny diamond peeking out of the zipper, almost asking to be caught. And maybe you were. That's when it started, a constant back and forth with a petty criminal. The sex? Nah, he doesn't remember when it started. It was tacit, silent, just a look and your back was against a damp alleyway or, if he was feeling like a gentleman, he would take you to one of his warehouses, letting you ride him on the busted couch all night long.

It was good, it was hot, it was great.

But lately, when his hand was definitely not enough and the streets were far too boring for his liking, he missed you. Jason audibly laughed when he found out you got caught by a meaner guy than him and even more when he also found out you were stuck in the Asylum. He would admit he misses you, he'd said it countless nights. Well, he definitely missed your two girls and the one downstairs if you get what I'm saying.

You could be very reckless sometimes.

Maybe it was the Pit madness, his whole brain rewired to kill, kill, and, guess what, kill! Maybe that fucked him up way deeper, maybe he was a sex addict. He should look the symptoms up.

"Knock knock, Bonnie," He, also, should've picked the lock instead of... Taking apart the door, but, well, he couldn't be bothered.

"Clyde's here."