Batty Muses (Roleplay for Batman Muses and Verses)

Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.

You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?

Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.

You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?

Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.

You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?

Your asks aren't open, so I figured I'd contact you out in the open.

You still going to see the doctor for your severe case of no-homo-bro?

She didn't even want to break the fantasy in the first place. While she'd lost Killer Croc, Baby Doll was still better than Mary Dahl.

Baby Doll was loved and adored with a wonderful family and fans all over the world.

Mary Dahl was all alone.

But she didn't have much choice now. She was back on medication and Baby Doll just wasn't Baby Doll without Mr. Happy Head or her curls or hired muscle.

She was just Mary now... even if she did have Baby Doll in the back of her mind in case she was ever needed. Mary Dahl wasn't particularly threatening, but Baby Doll had a reputation.

In a place like Arkham Asylum, you needed a reputation.

On the topic of reputations, it would seem one inmate got one they weren't fond of... and it wasn't Mary's.

Miriam's Bitch. That was Viktor Zsasz' new moniker.

While others found it humorous, Mary found it curious.

Miriam was not a common name and she'd only ever known one person with it.

Could it be her?

Mary approached the psychotic killer, doing her best to maintain some facade of courage.

"So," Mary began with her natural voice, looking at her nails and casually tucking a length of uncurled hair behind her ear, "this Miriam that made you her bitch... Did she have red hair? Maybe some big round glasses?"

In fact, they rarely were of late! They hadn't been in a good mood since they were apprehended, but it wasn't just anger. Oh, there was anger, but in a way they almost seemed more morose lately, wistful even. The one who got away. A mark left uncarved.

Except their own.

Someone had the utter lack of sense to bring up their souvenir. It still itched under the bandages, thought it was set to heal well enough. The woman had meant to give an irritating reminder, a message, but whether it was a lack of commitment or a very purposeful warning that kept it from being more permanent than it'd be, they couldn't guess.

They were admittedly only half-conscious at the time. And concussed. And straddled like a horse.

Still, their new moniker had earned a few fellow inmates some fun new scars of their own, and at least one major hospitalization, and had put Viktor back in the heavy collar and restraints. Though, they had managed to behave just long enough, and their doctors had asked enough because of their floundering therapy, for them to be allowed into general population again. Under heavy watch.

It was likely like approaching a dragon, perched in the corner and already sneering when they saw Mary slowly approaching.

The assigned guard seemed uninterested in the exchange, only glancing at Mary with a tepid 'don't get too close' kind of look before looking back at the newspaper. But Vitkor, oh Viktor, they were locked on Mary, their turning at her causing a soft jingling sound from the immobilizing collar. And at first, there was only a dull pause...

Her voice was like a whimper.

And then a song.

Oh, the sound of giddiness, madness maybe, or just adrenaline? They supposed it didn't matter, it was all an itch in the head. But it sparked something in their chest. Flint to their steel, a burn of both frustration and wild, giddy abandon all knotted together, their impatient look waned slightly, then cracked into a fractured little smile.

One that was just as impatient, but absolutely lusting for blood. This was no longer a hunt, this was a game. Prey driven to it's last instinct? Or was this now a dance between two predators... maybe. Maybe not.

Time to see.

Viktor's lip curled up enough to glint teeth at her as she rattled out in desperation, her voice snapping into something like a giggle, baffling confidence soaking her every word. Oh, they were right, they did like her. It was only a shame that her bark wouldn't match her bite.

"Oh, my dear, I really don't care who you worked for. It doesn't matter. It's all a matter of convenience." Their face softened for a moment as they looked at her. "... You remind me of me. Those last death throes really are unbearable, aren't they? You probably still think you can get out of them. But, either you're lucky enough to die, or your unlucky enough to keep living." Their smile cracked like those fine invisible lines in glass. "Lucky for you, you have me."

Her threat, her last request for their last words, made them throw their head back and laugh far too sharply. "No, yours. Pick your spot if you want, I'll make sure your get the kindness you deserve."

And with that and a snap of their wrist, a wild look in their eyes and blood smeared across bruises, lost to the heady mania of purpose, they threw themself at Miriam, knife out. They saw her readying an attack, they weren't stupid. But what they didn't see through the mess in their head was that Miriam was just as clever as them, and just as sly.

An attack that had looked like it was meant for their wounded shoulder was instead a sharp pain in their head. They only felt the last weight of their blade hit her arm, but their vision and weight teetered in and out of darkness before they could figure out how badly they'd gored her. Or if they had.

The world spun around them, empty and dizzy as their skin burned cold and numb from hitting something. Concrete...? Was that the sky above them? It was all so...? dark...?

"Yes, I'm okay. Just some mild injuries I want to have looked at, just in case... Yeah, a ride to the hospital sounds good." As the redhead spoke casually to her father, she enacted her revenge, cutting into the killer's clothing to leave their back bare. "I'm hoping I don't need stitches... Oh, it's nothing that serious. I'd be bleeding a lot more if that was the case... Yes, any bleeding is bad." Carefully cutting into the rogue's upper back, she gave Viktor a new nickname, of sorts. "I have good news though!... Yeah! I'm not taking any of Mother's garbage anymore. I'm quitting as soon as possible. I may not know what exactly I'll do, but anything is better than working under her... I know, but it feels great knowing I won't have to listen to her anymore!" Miriam looked at her handiwork and chuckled.