Save...you...(A Mama/Batman Crossover Fiction) DISCONTINUED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE

Chapter 3

“Why us?” Crane snapped, fiddling with the cuffs that bound his wrists together. The other rogues watched with suspicion from the confines of their cells.

“Doctors orders. Now move it!” the burly guard boomed, earning him a cringe worthy glare from the Master of Fear. The group, consisting of Scarecrow, Riddler and Ivy, trudged from the cell block.

Ivy, trailing just behind Edward, was sorely tempted to kick the orderly in his family jewels, just barely restraining herself. She couldn’t stand the idea of another month in solitary. They had no idea where they were going or what they were going to do, so they were instantly confused when they moved only one cell block over. It was exactly the same as their last one!

“What is the meaning of this!?” Nigma hissed, unhappy with the puzzlement that plagued him. 

The orderlies did not answer, instead removing the cuffs and more or less shoving the rogues into their new cells. They left without another word. 

“What am I gonna do without my Puddin’?!” Harley whined, collapsing face first onto the bed in a fit of tears. Ivy rolled her eyes, ashamed of the girls dependence on a man. 

“Toughen up,” she groaned, stretching a bit to relax her stiff muscles. 

Five minutes had passed, Jonathan having not spoken once. It wasn’t entirely odd, but a remark on their new abode was to be expected. Ivy glanced over at him, to see the man staring fixedly at the cell across from his - the one next to hers. He was bent down, squinting across the way, as if trying to read something placed on the glass. 

Harley, who had been quiet for far too long, was also staring at the cell fixedly, a frown mark working its way between her brows. 

“What is it?” Ivy inquired, putting her ear to the cement. Not like she’d be able to hear anything, but it was the bodies natural response to curiosity. Suddenly, a dull thump was heard, like a hand smacking glass. Harley’s eyes bugged out of her head, her lips peeling back to release a high pitched squeal as she tumbled backwards onto the floor. Jonathan was visibly less shaken, but his hand clutched at his chest as he took in the scene across from him. 

“Who the hell is that!?” Harley screeched, regaining her composure and crawling back to the door. Ivy huffed, frustrated at the placement of her cell. She could hear Nigma grumbling also, from the cell across from Harley.  

“I’m not sure,”Jonathan called back, raising his voice so he could be heard. He was analyzing whoever it was, his glasses slipping down his nose as his eyes trailed up and down. The mystery person had yet to speak and Ivy was getting very pisses, very fast. 

“Who is it? Boy or girl?” she bit out, irritated that no one had bothered to let her in on anything. 

“Girl,” Harley responded, though she sounded a bit unsure. Was it an ugly women, or a feminine man? “She’s filthy,” Harley added, nose crinkling in disgust.

“What’s your name?” Crane inquired, ignoring Harley’s repeated jabs at the girls appearance. 

Silence.

“Can she talk?” I asked, wondering if the girl was mute - maybe deaf. 

“I don’t know... She’s just...staring. In all honesty, it’s a bit unnerving,” Crane muttered, eyeing the girl dubiously. Ivy tried to get a picture in her head of what could possibly unnerve the King of Nightmares, but she found it wasn’t possible. What kind of look was she giving Jonathan that would unnerve him? Unnerving Crane was about as hard as killing one of Ivy’s plants.

“Bruce,” a small voice stated, startling everyone. 

Crane blanched, fixing his glasses before they could tumble to the floor. 

“What?” he asked, though he hadn’t heard her correctly. So, this newbie could speak after all.

“Bruce,” the voice stated again, full of conviction. Jonathan quirked an eyebrow, pointing at his chest in a ‘me?’ motion. The girl must have shook her head ‘no’, for he looked even more puzzled than before. 

“What is she doing?” Edward inquired, looking to Crane for answers. The other man didn’t respond, completely immersed in this girls strange behavior. As a psychiatrist it was calling to him, this ‘unknown’. 

“Talk...Bruce. I...talk...Bruce,” she said, though it was a mangled mess of a sentence.

“Is she mentally impaired?” Nigma snorted, wondering why one earth they’d put her in here with them. Well, put them in here with her.  

“You want to talk to Bruce?” Harley questioned, trying to decipher what the poor girl was attempting to say. Her voice was hoarse with misuse, sounding as if she’d never spoken a word to anyone before this moment. 

“Y-yes,” she replied, the determination clear. Suddenly, the camera in the far right corner of the wing caught everyones attention. It was swiveling madly between everyone, stopping to pause every now and then on the girl for extended periods of time. It was as if the control man was overly ecstatic about something, or he just happened to accidentally sit on the button. 

“Who the hell is Bruce? I don’t think there are any doctors by that name... Unless she means Bruce Bruce,” Harley was muttering, pacing back and forth between the door jam. 

“Bruce Wayne?” Ivy shrilled, the picture of the undead billionaire causing her hands to ball up into fists. ‘Chauvinist pig’, she snarled in her mind.

The last name seemed to trigger the girl in the cell over, because she hurriedly coughed up another “yes”.

“He’s not here?” Crane said, though now he was uncertain. What ties did this girl have with Bruce?

“Hello everyone,” a voice cheered, the entrance to the cell block suddenly flung open. A wisp of a man stood in the doorway, a head of fine ebony hair falling across a thin forehead. His eyes, a shade torn between brown and black, were incredibly unremarkable. Bane could have crushed this man with his pinky finger. 

When no one cared to respond, he flushed red in the face, hurrying down to stand before the mystery girl. Two guards filed in after him, both female. 

“Hello Violet,” he greeted, waving at the dirt ball that stood warily behind the glass. This supposed Violet growled, a low, feral sound. Everyone in the room thought they’d heard wrong, but another growl rang out, more distinct than the first one.

“Animalistic indeed,” the young doctor breathed, gulping.