If you are here for an adventure, you had better look somewhere else. Like Roquentin, I do not have adventures. Things happen to me … that is all. One of those things is happening now: I am being led up a muddy road to a large, dark, imposing building with far too many turrets. It is raining.

On top of the wrought-iron gate we just passed through the name of the building is prominently displayed: Arkham Asylum.

'Asylum' is derived from a Greek word that means 'refuge'. But it left this meaning by the wayside a long time ago. It least it has in this city. I cannot speak for those who live in that world of blue sky and green grass that exists somewhere beyond the dark waters of Gotham Harbor.

But Arkham Asylum is not a refuge for the mentally ill. The patients know it. The doctors know it. I know it.

And you know it, too.

Whoever the hell you are. Seriously, what are you doing here, listening to me prattle on about things? Is this really how you want to spend your time?

Whatever. I guess if you're here, then we're in this together, mate.

The door to the asylum was opened, with a lot of creaking and whatnot. I was brought inside, to a foyer that was pretty spacious, but also pretty dimly lit. There was a large, red carpet spreading across the floor, and the walls were lined with paintings of indifferent-looking individuals, gazing off into the darkness with hollowed eyes.

From there, I was led up a flight of stairs and into the office of a Doctor … Something-or-other. She asked me a few questions, like "how can we help you?" and "what do you hope to get out of this experience?" I didn't really know what to say to any of that, and I told her so. She seemed to think that was meaningful, and made a few notes. Then she said some things that I've quite forgotten, and I was shown to my cell.

There was nothing of note there, but I stayed in it for a few days anyway. Being a 'Green Patient', or something like that, I was allowed to come and go as I pleased. However, the only reasons to leave, I figured, were for meal times or recreation. But for those first days, I felt neither hungry nor in need of exercise. So I counted the cracks in the walls and time passed.

But one day, I did go to the recreation room. It was rather well-furnished, with lots of tables and chairs, as well as a television. There was even a fireplace built into one wall, although there was no fire in it. People were scattered here and there talking, playing games, watching television, or just staring into space. I hesitated for a moment in the doorway, not entirely sure where to go. Then I just started threading my way through the tables, figuring I'd know my destination when I saw it.

I passed by a tall, somewhat thin man sitting at a table all by his lonesome. There was a chessboard set up in front of him, but he wasn't paying attention to it. His piercing, green eyes flicked about the room, fixing on something or someone for a few moments, and then moving on. Eventually they landed on myself.

"Care for a game?" he said, his voice dripping with confidence and superiority, while smirking in a self-satisfied sort of way.

"Why?" I asked.

The pretentious man tilted his head slightly to the left and gave me an aren't you clever? kind of look.

"Because," he said, still smiling smugly, "I'm bored. And you're a newcomer. I like playing people who still think they've got a shot at outthinking me."

I pulled out the chair and sat down.

"Oh, a no-nonsense kind of guy," the man said, closing his eyes briefly, like he was savoring a sip of fine wine, "excellent."

He reached a hand out, gripped one of his white pawns with three fingers, and moved it forward two spaces.

I moved my farthest right hand pawn up one space.

"What's your name, chatterbox?" the man asked, casually advancing another pawn.

I told him.

"That's a stupid name," he said, "I think I'll keep calling you Chatterbox. Then I won't gag every time I want to talk to you."

I moved a knight out.

"I," he said, "am Edward. But … you might know me by another name."

I looked up and met his glinting green eyes and his smug face. Then I shook my head.

"Don't read the papers much, do you?" Edward asked.

"Don't need to," I said.

Edward chuckled. "That's a bit arrogant of you. You know there's a lot of useful information in those things."

Now, I'd hate for you to think I was stupid, mate. I knew exactly who this guy was. But I certainly hadn't heard about him reading the papers because, seriously, why would I have? The point is, I knew about his whole shtick. And I also knew that the only way to handle narcissists of that caliber was to match their level of arrogance. And that was what lead me to say:

"Shut up and play. I've got things to do."

"Oh, you do, do you?" Edward said languidly, "important things?"

"Oh, just few preparations for when I'm out of here," I said.

"A few preparations for when you're out of here?" he repeated, a little incredulously. "The nerve of some of you people. This your first time through the asylum? And, what, you think you're just going to go rule the underworld after your brief stint?"

"That," I said, lowering my voice conspiratorially, "is exactly what I'm planning. But don't tell."

"Oh, that is rich," Edward said, deliberately raising his voice. "You lowlifes are all the same. You think you've got it all figured out, that all us old fools don't have a clue what we're doing. Think you'll just waltz into this city and do whatever you please. Oh, but you just wait, once the Big Bad Bat so much as glances your way, you'll release enough fluids to fill a water tower."

He finished his rant and I smiled inwardly to myself, because I had succeeded in getting a rise out of him. Oh, and in case you were wondering, mate: no, I have never seen the Batman before. Not that I think that means anything.

I said nothing in response to my opponent, and took one of his pieces instead.

"That's what I thought," Edward said. "And listen, friend, I don't hold your overconfidence against you. Everyone here's got it pretty bad. They all think they're something special, but put together they wouldn't have enough brains to solve a crossword puzzle. And that," Edward continued, smiling wickedly and tapping his fingers on the table, "is why I'm going to outlast them all. When this city's in ruins, and the Bat's taken them all out, I'm going to be the one coming up behind him, ready to stab him in the back."

I bowed my head, moved another piece, and still said nothing. He was really on a roll.

"Metaphorically speaking, of course," Edward clarified, waving his hand disdainfully. "I don't care much for violence, it's so … pedestrian."

I thought about that for a bit.

"How exactly does that, work, then?" I asked. "it seems to me that any kind of lasting damage would have to be … physical, would it not? Like death?"

"Oh, au contraire, Chatterbox. It's just the other way around. But I don't think you'd understand things of that nature."

"Well," said I, "how about you let me be the judge of that."

"No," he said, "I don't think you've earned the right to know my ponderings. Maybe if you beat me here, I'd tell you something. But unfortunately for you –"

Edward moved a rook forward, placing it on a black square with a sharp click and checkmating my king.

"– you're all out of time. So get lost."

I stared at the board and its pieces until Edward gave a polite cough and made shooing gesture. I looked up and met his gaze.

"What if I played you tomorrow?"

"What's that?" he said.

"If I play you tomorrow. Would the stakes be the same?"

Edward tilted his head back and looked thoughtfully up.

"Well, Chatterbox, you weren't even close to winning this one. What makes you think you've ever got a chance in hell of beating me?"

I shrugged.

"I bet you I can, with enough time."

"Mmh," Edward said, "that's an interesting sentiment … I tell you what. Normally I can't stand repeat performances. Once I've beaten an opponent, all the excitement of the game goes out of it. But, if you can guarantee that each day you'll play better than you played the day before … then I will accept your proposal. Same stakes."

"See you tomorrow," I said, abruptly standing and walking towards the door. And I almost made it to said door before I heard Edward's pretentious voice behind me.

"Oh, Chatterbox, since you've been such a good sport about all this, I'd like to give you a piece of advice."

Well, I couldn't really turn down something like free advice, so I turned around.

Edward was sitting back in his chair with his hands behind his head and then, with great ceremony, he proceeded to recite:

"All contain me, all things I contain.

I am the cause of everything insane.

I have no walls, no lock or key,

Yet I imprison that which imprisons me.

What am I?"

I silently walked out the door.