"Jaina" was arrested and sent to Arkham.

"P-please, I'm not who you think!"

Jason's pleas fell on deaf ears.

"That's enough."

Batman frowned, having chalked up her attempts to skirt Jaina's conditioning as the ramblings of a madwoman. He delivered her to Arkham where she was booked and processed over the span of a few hours. Jason was **** to strip down out of her revealing attire and submit herself to a full cavity search, which was embarrassing enough without her body making salacious remarks to the female guards.

She posed for her mugshot, her body forcing her to smile with a cheeky wink. It was a constant uphill battle, fighting White Rabbit's impulses.

The deafening clang of the heavy, steel doors marked the entry to the female wing of Arkham Asylum. The corridor echoed with a cacophony of indistinct whispers and the occasional deranged laughter, punctuated by the metallic clatter of chains. This was a world separated from reality; a domain of madness, ****, and misfortune, tucked away in the heart of Gotham.

Jason, now donning the standard-issue Arkham jumpsuit, was flanked by two burly guards. Their stern expressions wavered between contempt and unease, hands itching closer to the tasers on their belts.

As they started their march towards the cell, the noise from the inmates grew louder. The first few cells housed minor criminals, deranged individuals whose mental health had been shattered by Gotham's never-ending cycle of ****. They gazed upon Jason with indifferent or vacant stares, uninterested in the new arrival.

The more notorious inmates, however, were housed further down the corridor.

Pamela Isley leaned against the bars of her cell, an amused smirk playing on her lips. She took in Jason's form with a predatory curiosity. Ivy's emerald eyes glinted with amusement as she traced Jason's form, leaning casually against the cold bars of her cell.

"My, my, what have we here?" Her voice was soft and entrancing, like the rustling of leaves.

"A lost little bunny in the snake's den?"

Jason prided herself in being tough, indomitable, but he couldn't deny the sense of vulnerability she felt as the eco-terrorist eyed her up and down. Not only was she now a woman, but an attractive one at that, and in prison.

Next was Harleen Quinzel, or Harley Quinn as she preferred. Her cell was decorated with a chaotic array of drawings and scribbled notes. She perched on her makeshift swing, her bleached-white face splitting into a wide, ecstatic grin.

"Hehe! New girl on the block, huh? Don't worry, doll face! Harls'll take good care of ya!"

Her laughter was high and pealing, a jester's call echoing ominously down the corridor as Jason kept moving.

The last two cells contained villains Jason had never even seen before.