Batman Scarecrow Arkham Asylum Novels & Stories

Peacekeeper armor. He wrapped the star-metal wire around the locust limbs, creating jagged, spindly arms. He assembled a nightmare. It looked like a crucified skeleton made of metal and insect parts. "It needs a heart," Leo whispered. He reached into his own chest. Not literally, but metaphysically. He pulled a sphere of golden fire from his core. But he didn't make it pure. He twisted it. He added the memory of the Void he had felt in the Architect’s database. He added the anger of the burning South. He added the cold of the deep ocean. He created a ball of dread. He pushed it into the chest cavity of the Scarecrow. The construct jerked. The skull’s eyes lit up. Not gold. Purple-gold. A br

With a choir, singing in her living room! “Beth,”Emma said ever so sweetly,“honey,are you totally sure you weren't having a dream?You must realize how this sounds!All this talk of caskets and corn children giving you ominous warnings….did you watch a horror movie before bed?You know how those upset you.” Beth composed herself as best she could.”No, I didn't watch a horror movie Em.I came downstairs thinking I’d left the telly on and there in my living room was a casket with me in it!And a choir of children.”

He looked like he'd been stung by an entire hives-worth of bees, and was still waiting for the swelling to go down. And then there was Aaron. He was the same height as Big Jim but looked like a rake beside him, which was crazy. Aaron was broad shouldered, almost three times me across and well defined, though you could never tell just how much until he had his shirt off. His hawk tattoo glistened with the trails of sweat running down his tanned chest, its inked talons raking his shuddering stomach as a feathered wing arched itself over his right shoulder.

My eyes dart around the room until they land on the bat I had since elementary school, tucked away near the fireplace, a relic of innocence in this nightmare. With determination surging through me, I sprint toward the bat. My fingers curl around its handle, squeezing it tightly as I rush back to the chaos unfolding before me. The intruder has Armando in a chokehold, his grip tightening as Armando gasps for breath, agony etched across his face.

She argued solid and stretched open the wide gates of the haunted house. Bats flew in the sky making dangerous sounds. The complete premises was covered with dried leaves and cobwebs. The mansion looked old, colorless and out of life like a death invite. Amara gulped heavy. She is terrorized, is an understatement yet she was determined to save her boyfriend. As she was about to take her step forward again the same devilish figure appeared before her flying around her in air. This time he was angrier. "Didn't I warn you, do not go there. There is nobody residing inside." He told his same words used hitherto but this time with force.

Scott follows me inside. “This isn’t fun for me, kid.” He fires into the side of the filing cabinet. “Just let me put a bullet in your brain, nice and clean. Won’t even hurt, unless you make me shoot around this hunk of junk.” I jump. “Why are you doing this, Scott?” He laughs. “At this point, call me Arthur.” Another long-ago echo, and something else. A memory. I stare up into blackness. There’s something there, I know. A monster in the night.

The scout didn't notice until it was too late. He bolted. Bad choice. Marcus was faster. He tackled him from behind. They hit the ground hard, rolling through dead leaves. The scout shifted mid-roll—claws extending, teeth bared. Marcus was ready. The Moonbane net flew from his hand, wrapping the scout in silver webbing. The corrupted magic reacted violently. Smoke rose where Moonbane touched flesh. The scout screamed. He crashed to the ground, tangled and helpless, shifting back to human. Young male, maybe twenty-five. Cult tattoos crawled up his arms like black veins. His face was pale with fear and pain.

We were all just standing there, thirty strangers in some dramatic-looking grand hall. Then came the crying. "Waaah... this place is so scary. I wanna go home." Scary? Could've fooled me. Thanks to my perception disorder, my brain airbrushes reality. The grosser something is, the prettier it looks. So to me? This place felt like a cozy Airbnb. Meanwhile, some cranky knight-looking dude threw punches at the shadows. "Quit hiding and fight me, coward!" While most people were busy freaking out, two stepped forward—chill and confident.

"Whoever kidnapped the burrito shop owner, you’d better give yourself up. Otherwise you will be No. 1 enemy of the Dragon Squad! We will exhaust every resource and item and we will find that idiot!" "Phoenix Squad too!" "Ox Squad as well!" Jack took me back to the real world to hide. He had used some kind of item that allowed him to avoid the BOSSES’ forced-entry dungeon. He punched me in the face. “Damn it! Did you offend some terrifying boss? You almost got me killed!” “Weren’t you very fast? Now we’re in the real world—let’s see how you run!” He vented all his fear of the horror game onto me just like before.

Ba-dump. As I crossed the worn threshold into the family room, I stumbled over some overturned furniture, the chaotic scene creating a sense of disarray that mirrored my own growing anxiety. Fragments of porcelain lay strewn across the grey carpet, leading ominously to what had once been Adam's grandmother's urn. Ashes were smeared along the pathway, gradually fading into footprints that ventured deeper into the narrow hallway. I swallowed hard, my hand instinctively wiping down my pants as I noticed the oppressive heat wrapping around me like a heavy blanket. Bat held high, I followed the trail of prints, every step drawing me closer to an impending dread, like a character in a horror movie