Friends and Scars Ch 1.1

Friends and Scars</u>
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I do not own Arnold Wesker, Scarface, or any of the other named characters. They belong to DC Comics (Batman, in particular). This was written purely for fun. Strong Language and some Sexual Themes. Be warned</i>

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Chapter 1 (Part 1)

   “Alright, settle down!”
   
   The small group of Arkham inmates slowly lowered their chattering, looking to the female asylum worker in the center of their semi-circle with cold eyes.

   The woman in white smiled as she took her seat across from her patients. She glanced around the small group present for therapy. To her left was a former psychologist of that very asylum, Harleen Quinzel, now known as Harley Quinn. Next to her was her best friend, the botanist Pamela Isley, known as Poison Ivy.

   The psychologist blinked and glanced to her right. There sat Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter, technological genius with a deep love for Lewis Carroll. Beside him sat Arnold Wesker, the Ventriloquist, with his dummy Scarface, a powerful mob boss, perched on his knee.

   Her eyes lingered on Mr. Wesker for a brief moment. Despite his eyes being hidden behind the thick lenses that sat on his nose, she could tell he was staring down at the ground, refusing to make eye-contact with anyone. He sat quietly, looking timid as ever. The dummy at the end of his arm sat quietly as well, his arms crossed over his wooden chest and leaning against the puppet master’s body. Scarface’s irritated glass eyes remained shifted to his left and focused on the ground.

   “Let us begin,” the Arkham worker finally said once the group had quieted down. Her eyes moved to each of the four before her. “Would anyone like to share something?”

   “Ooh! Ooh!” Harley Quinn called excitedly as she threw her hand into the air like a child with the answer to a question.

   Before she was able to begin, Scarface rolled his eyes and shifted his weight slightly. “Blasted waste of time…” he muttered under his breath.

   Harley’s eyes shot to the dummy. “What was that, Puppethead?!” she snapped.

   “Yes, Arnold,” the psychologist said, turning to the Ventriloquist, “is there something you’d like to share?”

   Arnold Wesker looked up from the floor, his slightly confused eyes lifting to the Arkham worker. “I-I didn’t say anything…” he replied quietly.

   “Run that by me again, Puppethead!” Harley demanded, sitting on the edge of her seat and leaning over Ivy.

   Scarface’s head turned to her slowly, his glass eyes seemingly filled with irritation. “I don’t belong ‘ere. I ain’t crazy.”

   “‘We’re all mad here,’ said the Cat,” the Mad Hatter said matter-of-factly with a toothy grin.

   As Scarface whirled around and shot Tetch a dirty look, Poison Ivy nudged Harley back into her seat. “I think you both need to get over yourselves,” she said in a smooth voice.

   Scarface barked out an irrepressible laugh. “You’re one ta talk, huh, Red?” he asked as his glass eyes focused on the woman next to him and Wesker. “Ya still think you’re hot shit?”

   “Alright, that’s enough,” the Arkham worker tried to cut in before either Ivy or Scarface lost their tempers.

   “It’s alright, Red,” Scarface continued in a mocking tone, “I’ll always be hard for ya.”

   Both Poison Ivy and Arnold Wesker blushed like mad at the dummy’s statement. “M-Mr. Scarface, have some decency!” Wesker managed to say, shocked his boss would even say something like that in this setting.

   “How dare you, you damn pervert!” Pam yelled as she swung her open hand toward Wesker’s face.

   Wesker let out a small “eep” of fear and ducked away from her hand, ultimately hitting the ground. As he managed to keep the chair he had been previously sitting between himself and the infuriated redhead, Scarface let out a laugh.

   “That’s enough!” the asylum worker shouted over the chaos that had broken out.

   Ivy froze, her hand in mid-swing and Wesker already cringing from the potential blow. She pointed an accusing finger at Wesker. “He started it!”

   Wesker opened an eye to see her pointing at him. He stared up at her with nervous eyes before he looked to the asylum worker. “I…I—”

   “No, I started it,” Scarface corrected Ivy harshly. He came face-to-face with her, dragging an unwilling Wesker behind him that left him dangling over his chair. “Get it right, Red!” Scarface continued loudly.

   “That’s it!” the Arkham worker said, throwing her hands up into the air. “Group is over!”

   Harley pouted out her lip before shooting Scarface a murderous look. “Way to go, Puppethead.”

   “I do my best, doll,” Scarface growled, returning her look with a glare of his own.

   “I said enough,” the worker repeated, stepping between the Ventriloquist and Harley. She turned to the officers by the door. “Please escort them back to their cells.”

   Wesker slowly rose to his feet, still feeling slightly shaken when the Arkham worker turned to him. “Take a seat, Arnold,” she said to him.

   After taking a quick look toward the other three villains being escorted out, Wesker sat back down. Once the room was empty save for her, Scarface, and himself, he looked to the worker. “I-I’m sorry about that…” he stammered.

   “I ain’t,” Scarface muttered as he crossed his arms and leaned back against the Ventriloquist’s body.

   Before the worker could respond to either of them, Wesker’s eyes lowered to the dummy on the end of his arm. “What do you mean, you’re not?!”

   Scarface glared up at him. “It’s just as it sounds, Dummy.”

   Wesker pushed his glasses back up his nose. “You just like causing trouble, don’t you?!”

   “No shit, Sherlock. What was your first clue?” Scarface shot back.

   “Gentlemen,” the worker interrupted. When both of them glanced at her, she leaned forward in her chair, studying them intently. “Please. Let’s just have a civilized conversation.”

   After a beat of silence had passed, Wesker nodded.  “A-About what?” he asked slowly.

   “Your relationship with each other,” the Arkham employee responded.

   Scarface’s eyes immediately grew angry and narrowed on her. “We’re partners; partners an’ nothin’ else.”

   The woman gazed down briefly at the puppet before her eyes returned to Wesker. “Arnold, is that true?”

   The man studied the woman with somewhat confused eyes. “You know that’s true…” he answered after another beat of silence.

   “What’s this about?” the dummy demanded to know.
   
   She sat back in her seat, continuing to stare at the Ventriloquist. “You two seem like polar opposites,” she said, more to herself. “How on Earth do you get along?”

   “We don’t,” Scarface grumbled, shooting a quick look up at the puppet master.

   “Do you agree?” she asked the man across from her.

   Wesker gazed down at Scarface briefly before he looked back to the Arkham worker. He nibbled on his bottom lip nervously as his fingers began tapping against his knee. “W-Well…um…w-we may not…agree on everything…but we can get along.”

   She brought her hands together and tapped her index fingers against her mouth. “Interesting…” she breathed.