Arkham Asylum

Aaron Cash was a man in his early thirties, dressed in an Arkham Asylum guard uniform with a layer of rubberized leather sewn onto the cuffs. It looked bite-proof.

He was quite friendly and warmly welcomed Miao Mu and the others, much better than another guard named Frank Powers.

That guy had looked at Miao Mu and the others with a disdainful Byakugan, especially when he saw Miao Mu. He had nearly blurted out "yellow-skinned monkey," but did not finish the sentence.

That was because Miao Mu had accidentally dropped his sidearm onto the floor. By sheer coincidence, the safety came off when it hit the ground, and the gun discharged.

With a bang, the bullet flew past Frank's thigh, struck the wall behind him, and blasted off a chunk of plaster.

It left an ugly scar on the white wall.

"Oops, I'm so sorry!"

Miao Mu bent deeply in apology, looking extremely embarrassed. Then another gun fell out of his police uniform—a revolver!

Like a startled bird, Frank took one look at the gun falling to the floor and bolted. In the blink of an eye, he was gone.

Milo wanted to laugh, but did not dare. Holding it in made him miserable.

Miao Mu put away the revolver, turned to Guard Aaron, and spoke with a serious, by-the-book expression. "We're officers from the Arkham Police Department. Please take us to Dr. Strange's office."

"Ah... all right." Aaron quickly led the way.

Inside, he broke out in a cold sweat for Frank's bad temper. He had always told him to be friendly, friendly. This time, Frank had kicked an iron plate.

Because of the nature of the work at Arkham Asylum, guards and basic staff were always in short supply. They were practically recruiting every day.

They could not hire undocumented illegal immigrants; applicants needed proper identification. As a result, the quality of the guards they found varied widely.

But compared to its shortage of basic staff, Arkham Asylum had no shortage of doctors, much less experts.

This place held America's craziest cases and most vicious criminal lunatics. Doctors who came for their own research, dissertations, or simply to treat these patients up close were never in short supply.

As they walked along, Miao Mu spotted several elite professionals in suits beneath white lab coats. The badges on their chests all bore highly specialized titles.

But the things they said sent chills down Miao Mu and Milo's backs.

Nurse: "Dr. Kellerman! Patient No. 67 bit one of the attendants. The anesthetic injection isn't working."

"No. 67? I remember, he has dulled senses. Go get someone!"

Dr. Steven Kellerman spoke as he grabbed a rubber mask and ran in that direction. On the way, he spotted Miao Mu and the others—or rather, he spotted Guard Aaron.

"Aaron, perfect timing. Come help!"

Dr. Kellerman shouted the words and hurried off in a whirlwind, clearly long accustomed to such incidents.

"Dr. Strange's office is up ahead. You go on first!" Aaron pointed toward an office on the right side of the corridor ahead, gripped the rubber baton at his waist, and chased after him.

"These people really have it rough."

Milo craned his neck, watching the nurse, doctor, and guard vanish around the corner behind them.

Miao Mu merely shook his head and headed for Strange's office. As he entered, he took a pair of white gloves from his pocket, put them on, and pushed open the door.

The office was rather nicely furnished. Since the work area was upstairs, it had floor-to-ceiling metal windows and a Victorian style.

A mounted lion's head hung on the wall, and two black solid-wood bookcases stood nearby, filled with thick volumes of every kind.

They were not merely decorative books. They had all been read and carefully annotated, with colorful bookmarks and slips of paper visible throughout the pages.

Miao Mu opened one and glanced through it. It appeared to be about cells, filled entirely with technical terminology he could not understand.

He casually put it back on the shelf, then turned toward the desk in the room. It had a black marble surface.

On it sat a computer, along with a bowl of... potato chips.

Hmm. Tomato-flavored. Very crispy.

Under Milo's somewhat awkward gaze, Miao Mu finished tasting the entire bowl of chips. At last, he rubbed his fingertips together and commented:

"I still prefer barbecue-flavored chips."

Miao Mu was not worried about poison. Anything left out in the open was definitely safe; it was everything else that was harder to say.

After taking off his gloves, Miao Mu pulled open a drawer. It contained only miscellaneous office supplies, while Milo checked the medical files on the other side.

After searching through everything, the two of them found no "evidence."

There had never been any evidence to begin with. Miao Mu simply did not trust him. After all, if anyone claimed that that bald man with perverted tendencies was a good person...

Miao Mu would never accept that, not a hundred percent. And since this was his own turf, could he afford not to investigate thoroughly?

Miao Mu turned and looked at the wall behind the desk. There was nothing there, none of the portraits or oil paintings so common in movies, with a safe hidden behind them.

There was obviously nothing there... just as he was about to give up, Milo found something—a business card in the trash can.

It was black, with a ship's wheel printed on the front. On the back was the name of the card: Villains' Bar. The address was Dixon Docks.

"I know this place." Milo waved the card in his hand.

"It's a place where sailors and thugs gather. They say if you aren't bad enough, you can't even get in."

"You know a lot about it. Been there?"

Miao Mu took the card and examined it from every angle, then looked again at the furnishings in the office.

A psychology and psychiatry expert had a business card from a third-rate bar in his office trash can. Was that normal?

Very normal... Superman next door was an alien, after all. A psychologist going there to study and research human behavior was perfectly normal.

Milo shook his head. "No, I've only heard about it. When I was at the Police Training Center, I saw sailors from there getting into fights."

Miao Mu swept his gaze across the office once more. Looking at the books on the shelf, he stepped closer and noticed the thin layer of dust. One book had clearly been taken out often.

Running his fingers over the spines, Miao Mu pulled out a black leather-bound book. The moment he opened it, he saw the clippings inside.

One of them was a blurry newspaper front-page photograph of Batman.

It seemed someone had already noticed Gotham City's biggest celebrity. How far he was from becoming a deranged fan, though, was anyone's guess.

"Come on. Let's go check out Villains' Bar."

Miao Mu closed the book, put it back where it had been, dusted off his hands, and headed outside. "Oh, and if it's on the way, let's stop by the Police Training Center. You know where it is, right?"

"I do." Milo hurried after him, then asked curiously, "What are we going to the Police Training Center for?"

"To see Gotham's guardian of law enforcement, old man Gordon." Miao Mu teased with a faint smile. "And... mooch a meal off him. I'm hungry."