Jðkêr//Är†hµr x RêåÐêr ïmågïñê§ & ðñê-§hð†§

• The Inheritance (pt.1)

Imagine: you inherit Arkham Asylum then discover the place isn't as abandoned as you'd previously thought, and so find yourself being held captive by a mysterious man who goes by the name of Joker.

--1st person POV--

Spring in Gotham had never been particularly memorable for it's bright may sunshine or beautiful blossoming trees.

There were no blossom trees to sprout beautiful pink blooms, and the harsh sky remained bleak and overcast even during the summer months.

  That was something you vividly remembered. A memory that has stayed with you even long after you'd left this dismal, unforgiving city;

The sun never seemed to shine here, which was just an added reason for you to seek warmer, more comforting climes.

As you approached the large, dilapidated Gothic structure, you shivered a little due to the biting chill in the air.

At least, you told yourself it was the chill in the air.

Had it always really been so cold in Gotham? It wasn't natural, surely even by this broken city's standards.

You didn't like to admit it, but as you stood cowering in the shadow of the once renown, Arkham Asylum, you couldn't help wondering if the goosebumps forming on your skin was just psychosomatic; a symptom of the eerie surroundings.

The air seemed unnaturally still, and peculiarly silent. There was no birdsong, no flowers in bloom, not a sound here.

No signs of any life whatsoever.

Given the sinister reputation of the enormous Victorian building you were currently stood in the shadow of, the eerie stillness seemed poetically befitting.
Though, in spite of it's undeniable Gothic splendour, you were struggling to see any poetic beauty in the place.

Arkham wasn't a place you could be whimsical, or romanticise about. It wasn't welcoming, romantic, or charming like some fairytale castle.

It loomed. It menaced. It oppressed.

Now you found yourself wondering just how oppressed it's former inmates must've felt, when they were committed here, centuries ago.
It was as if the original architect had built the vast, dark structure with that very purpose in mind. To intimidate.

"Are you sure you don't want me to stick around?" The driver of the cab had asked, not wanting to pull up anywhere near the towering, wrought iron gates.

It had been evident he didn't like the place anymore than you did.

"No it's....it's fine." You had answered eventually, having to steel your nerves.

This wasn't just a fleeting visit. You weren't some tourist with a macabre fascination with the place; wanting to take pictures or wander the grounds just for kicks.
You'd come to view your inheritance, and see for yourself if it was worth trying to salvage.

Having paid the driver, the cab had sped off; throwing gravel up from the road in his haste to get away. Leaving you alone.

Alone to explore.

With a faintly trembling hand, you drew the hefty bunch of keys from your purse, and began the painstaking task of finding the one that fit the large lock on the rusty old gate.
It was surprising it wasn't chained and padlocked for safety reasons, let alone to prevent vandals from breaking in.

Perhaps even Gotham's most hardy young thugs weren't brave enough to venture into the grounds that had once housed the criminally insane.

After a minute or two of wrangling with the gate, you finally gained access and slowly made your way towards the asylum itself.