Thread: Arkham's Education (Cain and AliceArkham)

Alice still hadnt come down off the drug when they brought her in, a bloody mess in handcuffs, screaming at a volume you wouldnt think a person of her size could pull off. Her nonsensical raving was heard in more than one cell block, catching the attention of inmates and guards alike. Rather than causing a stir, it instilled an uneasy quiet in the building. Anyone who saw Alice brought in that night remembered the sight of her for weeks to come, some men even telling their wives about her over dinner when they went home for the night. Alice had struggled against the handcuffs so ferociously that she had dislocated a shoulder, and as such, her posture was a little off. This didnt stop her from fighting against the officers with as much strength as she had left in her. There was the obvious memorability of her look, a horror-movie-esque vision of gore paired with a miniskirt and knee socks. Then there was the question of her age. When the intake officer had asked her how old she was, she had given him a string of letters instead of numbers. She looked to be at least 18, but none of the doctors were certain. They decided it best to detain her for the night and try to get a sensible answer out of her in the morning. In order to reset her shoulder, Alice had to be sedated. She was put in an inmate uniform while she was under and would wake up, very uncomfortable, in the unfamiliar clothes. The next morning she would barely remember being brought into Arkham. She definitely wouldnt remember what she had told the officers or the doctors who had interviewed her when she came innot that any of it was really comprehensible. From what they had gathered, she thought she needed to stamp out someone. And it was that someone who got Alice caught. The police hadnt been alerted by any breeched alarmsAlice had disabled all the security remotely. But the sound of Alice slowly and brutally extinguishing her victim had been audible enough to disconcert some customers at the deli next door. Nmghh Alice moaned as she woke, rolling onto her side. The stiffness of the mattress was the first thing that alerted her to her new location. Opening her eyes, Alice let out a gravelly yelpher voice exhausted from its overuse as she sat up. She quickly scanned the room, blue eyes narrowed as they adjusted to the light. Where am? Alice moaned and covered her face in her hands, not needing to finish the question. She was in Arkham. Slowly, it dawned on her that what she thought had been nightmares were more than likely memories of what she had been doing less than 24 hours ago. The combination of the horror at that realization in addition to the dehydration brought on by her near overdose on medication caused her to be immediately, and violently, ill. It was the sound of her being sick that brought a guard over. Hey miss, he said, peering in at her with an apathetic glance, voice almost monotone. You alright in there? Alice didnt bother raising her head. Voice thick with misery, she said simply, No, and then was sick again. A doctor was called to check on her. By the time he arrived, Alices thinking had cleared a bit. She had to make a choice, and she had to make it quickly. It was highly unlikely that the drug she was on would show up in a blood test. Therefore, she could either admit to being sky high when she murdered that man, or she could let the doctors think she was suffering from a psychological disorder. The former would get her sent straight to prison, and in Gotham, that was, if not a death sentence, often a disfiguration sentence. By the time the door was opened to let the bespeckled, balding man in an overly starched coat into the cell, she had made her decision.