Hugo's office was sleek. Guarded with large safes behind a library shelf of hypnotherapy books and studies on outdated... If not unethical... Medical treatments.

Cassidy hoped he was only using them for reference.

Hung above the luxury lounge chair was a Rorschach painting.

Curious.

Even from all angles, she couldn't escape the winged shape of it. It was like a bat.

"Look! She was just trying to help!"

Cassidy stood like a timid mouse behind Joan Leland and the senior officer, talking as if she weren't in the room. Didn't matter. She wanted to keep out of it for as long as she could, anyway.

This is fine... This is fine...

"Help?!" Joan snapped, shaking her fist. "That little stunt could've got her killed! She was completely out of line!"

Hugo, meanwhile, was stuck on his desk chair, in the middle of them arguing with each other like a pair of children. He rubbed his temples, on the verge of giving up.

"You weren't there! How the hell could you-"

"Enough," Hugo said, his voice firm.

They stopped as Cassidy looked up.

"Cassidy is here, I see no reason why we should speak on her behalf"

All three of them turned to her, making her put her hands behind her back as she attempted to avoid their gaze.

"Is there anything you wish to say?"

"I... I didn't know what... I... I'm sorry..."

Hugo sighed, and leaned back.

"Very well. I assume this will not be repeated, lest we are forced to amend your waiver-"

"Are you kidding me?!" Joan laughed in despair. "She should be thrown out! If it was anyone else they'd be-"

"Cassidy is aware of the risks, as are everyone. Arkham will not be held accountable- her actions are hers to make"

Joan slammed the door open, her perfume trailing behind as she stormed past the senior officer, the only one who bothered to run after her.

Hugo continued to speak as if nothing happened.

"I've let you off this time. But make no mistake, your safety won't be guaranteed if you attempt this again"

Joan gave Cassidy one last harsh look before disappearing down the hallway.

And she was more alone than ever.

///

Cassidy pressed the button for the elevator. For her, the rest of the day ought to have been an eternity.

She waited as steady humming and chugging rose from below. It sometimes stopped on other levels, but Cassidy didn't feel like taking the stairs. She was too tired.

Then, footsteps approached.

She thought whoever it was would want the elevator, or would maybe turn down the corridor to go to some other place.

The steps grew louder. Shuffling. Unsteady. Dragging across the floor.

They got close behind her- then stopped.

Cassidy tensed her shoulders.

Her breathing was unusual. Deep, raspy, like she was sick. And then she realized it.

The icy breath trickling against her neck...

... It wasn't hers.

Cassidy turned, but no one else was there.

Surely it was her imagination.

She rubbed the hairs on the back of her neck. They wouldn't calm down. Not even as the elevator doors pinged open, with a familiar security guard looking at her with concern.

She stepped inside.

The elevator was itself, a mini prison. A steel cage, as wide as a cell, hefty, fitted with handrails and an emergency switch by the panels.

The senior officer pressed for the 2nd Floor in silence, as Cassidy kept her head down as if to say 'Please don't talk to me'.

He coughed, looking at her with a pitying expression. The silence didn't last.

"Look, don't let what Dr. Leland said get to you. She's a good person, but not the easiest to get along with"

He offered his good hand and a warm smile.

"Aaron Cash- I'm chief of security"

"Oh, uh- Cassidy Price" she replied, shaking his hand. She was glad for the distraction.

By the look of him, Cassidy figured he was in his 40s, with a chiseled face and stocked in a blue armored vest. His hook for a hand was eye-catching, but she wasn't going to ask him about that anytime soon.

"Nice to meet you, Cass. Gotta say, what you did at the cafeteria- that was ballsy. Stupid, but ballsy. Got any defense training?"

Cassidy blinked, raising her eyebrow as the elevator rattled its way down.

"Y'know- Krav Maga? Judo?"

She took a moment to think about it, and shook her head.

"Well, you'll need it. Believe me. Trouble comes like bad weather around here. It's never if- it's when"

The elevator dinged, opening on the 2nd Floor. Aaron stepped out, pausing for a brief moment.

"Meet me in the yard at 7. Tomorrow. Consider it your first lesson"

The elevator doors slid shut before she could even respond.

///

Cassidy slumped down onto her office chair, exhausted.

She didn't seem to mind staying in the room anymore, even with the cold.

Scritch. Scritch.

Well, except for that.

Whatever animal burrowing in the walls had got louder, irritating enough for Cassidy to get up and do something about it.

She followed the sound to the barred-up fireplace. Nails, more like fingernails than rat claws, scraped with an intensity as if they were stuck. Or wanting to get out.

Cassidy didn't like where her thoughts were going, so she tried to-

Crunch.

Something in the walls munched through what sounded like meat gristle, or smaller prey- wriggling. Fighting for its life.

Cassidy flinched back, shivering. She couldn't stand listening to it anymore.

Gulping bile back in her throat, her gaze trailed along the carpet, spotting something hidden in the corner.

It was wide, draped with cloth as if someone had thrown it and left it there. Cassidy rose up and approached it, pulling the cloth away as layers of dust blew into her face.

It was a painting of a young Victorian woman. Willowy, posed in an ivory wedding dress with braided hair. Beautiful. But her eyes were blank, almost as if she had been dead long before the portrait was commissioned.

Cassidy's expression switched when she saw the name underneath, written on a brass plaque:

'Elizabeth Arkham'

She stumbled, knocking into the box by the fireplace. She would have tripped over, if not for the weight of the frame in her hands.

Between the box and the painting, she was at a loss for what to do with them.

Steadying herself, Cassidy hung the painting on the only empty rail hook left, fixed in place like a centerpiece attraction.

She looked down at the box, locking eyes with the grinning mugshot inside:

'Inmate Number: 4479

John Doe "Joker"'

Maybe it was the day's events. Or maybe she needed a distraction from whatever had made a home in her office. But, something about him called out to her.

Still, she decided to avoid that file, reading it would have put her on edge.

Pity she didn't stay away from him.

A/N: With friends like these, who needs enemies?