@double-eclipse - Tumblr Blog

For a moment—just a moment—Zacharias said nothing.

He watched him.

Really watched him.

The stance. The precision. The way he moved like this was routine—like this was just another task on a very long list of tasks he didn’t question anymore.

And something in Zacharias’ expression shifted.

Not calmer.

Worse.

Sharper.

“…God,” he breathed, almost under his breath, though it carried in the tight space. “You don’t even hear yourself, do you?”

His hands were still raised—but not as high now. Not quite surrender. Not quite defiance. Hovering somewhere dangerous in between.

“‘It doesn’t matter where I take you.’ ‘You’ll just be data.’ ‘Another experiment.’” He echoed the words back at him with a quiet, cutting precision, like laying evidence out on a table. “You say that as if it’s… procedural. As if that’s just how things are meant to work.”

A small, humorless smile flickered across his face.

“You’re not wrong, by the way,” he added. “That is exactly what they’ll do.”

His gaze dropped briefly—to the gun, the distance, the angle—then came back up again, locking onto Jason properly now.

Intent.

Calculating.

“But here’s the part you’re either ignoring,” Zacharias continued, voice lowering, tightening, “or they didn’t bother telling you—because why would they?”

A slight shift of his weight. Subtle. Testing the ground, the space, the timing.

“You said you slipped past the MA-124s,” he went on, tone almost conversational now. “Impressive. Truly. That puts you… what—one, maybe two sectors out from where containment completely failed?”

A beat.

Then, very quietly:

“…Do you know why they stopped responding to command signals?”

Silence pressed in around them, thick and unpleasant.

Zacharias tilted his head slightly, studying him the same way he’d studied reports, discrepancies, anomalies.

“You think you’re here to clean up a loose end,” he said. “You’re not. You’re here because they’ve already lost control of this place—and they need someone who doesn’t ask questions to walk back into it.”

Another small step—not forward, not back. Just enough to shift the angle between them.

“They sent you into a sewer system full of failed B.O.W.s,” he added, the edge in his voice sharpening now, something almost incredulous slipping through. “After a city-wide outbreak. After internal collapse. And you’re still talking about procedure.”

His eyes flicked, just briefly, past Jason—toward the dark beyond the doorway.

Then back.

“…If you shoot me,” Zacharias said, almost gently now, “you’ll still be exactly where you are. Alone. Underground. With things that don’t follow orders anymore.”

A pause.

Measured.

Deliberate.

“And if you take me back?” he added. “You’re escorting someone who knows exactly how badly this has gone—through territory you just admitted isn’t secure.”

That faint, brittle smile returned.

Not confidence.

Not quite.

“…So no,” he finished quietly, fingers flexing slightly where they hovered, tension coiling tighter with every second. “I don’t particularly want to die down here.”

His gaze held Jason’s.

Steady now.

“But I think you might want to reconsider whether you do either.”

#☣Resident Evil verseﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ #runyou-clever-boy

Jason had heard all of it before, the pleas, the begging and crying but he couldn't recount someone being so bold and almost cocky as Zacharias was. He was going for the psychological route and he couldn't let it get to him. It was one of his few flaws.

He listened as his own words were repeated back. "That's how things are supposed to work." He knew nothing else other than Umbrella and orders, this was normal, nothing out of the ordinary, it was everything else that was odd. As Zacharias lowered his hands slightly, he readjusted his aim to the man's chest.

"The MA-124s were supposed to be terminated... but some scientists got attached and now they're roaming here. They never escaped, just acclimatise to the situation they were put in." He spoke factually, the gammas were never going to work as a BOW. They could only function in water.

"You should know how it works, even if it went wrong, they still had procedures. I am a part of that. To keep people like you from running from the work you used to do... to make sure you can't go to another company and spill secrets." Jason had noticed the man trying to shift and examining the door past him.

He narrowed his eyes at him, hating the sudden silence between them as he also tried to listen out for the said threats in the tunnels. "I can get around another way. Cut through the other service tunnels... I can drag you through and deal with anything if I need to." Jason still wasn't seeing the issue with it, but he'd always deal with any issues if and when he got to them. "The BOWs don't bother me, even if I shoot you, I can always get back and leave your sorry ass to be food for them." He was getting more impatient now, by this time he would be on his way back with the target, dead or not. It was taking too long and it blinded him to other movements Zacharias was doing.

"You underestimate me.. I won't die down here, no matter how much you want me to." Zacharias should be grateful they didn't send a tyrant after him, it would have been over much more quicker though.

closed starter @grindelwald-fanatic

The lights overhead flickered with a dull, stuttering hum, casting the corridor in uneven pulses of sickly yellow. It made everything harder to track—movement, shadows… time. Zacharias had stopped trusting all three about an hour ago.

He pressed himself back against the wall beside a half-open office door, breath shallow, one hand clamped tight around the handle of a blood-smeared letter opener he’d decided—optimistically—counted as a weapon.

Somewhere deeper in the building, something dragged.

Slow. Wet. Deliberate.

“…Right,” he muttered under his breath, voice tight, more to fill the silence than anything else. “That’s—no, that’s fine. That’s perfectly fine. That’s exactly the sort of thing one expects to hear in a municipal building.”

His eyes flicked down the corridor again. Empty. Too empty.

That was the problem.

When he’d first made it inside, there had been noise—panic, shouting, gunfire echoing through the halls. Now there was just… absence. Like the building itself had already given up.

Zacharias swallowed, forcing himself to move. Staying still wasn’t helping. It never helped.

He slipped into the office, nudging the door open just enough to slide through before easing it shut behind him with careful, shaking fingers. The room was a mess—papers scattered, a chair overturned, dark streaks across the floor he very deliberately did not look at for long.

A computer terminal blinked weakly on the desk.

Still powered.

“…Come on,” he breathed, crossing the room in quick, quiet steps. “There has to be something useful left in this place—access logs, routes, anything…”

He leaned over the terminal, hands hovering for a second before committing, pulling up whatever files hadn’t already been corrupted or wiped.

Names. Transfer orders. Medical shipments—

His stomach dropped.

“Oh, you have got to be—”

A sound cut him off.

Not distant this time.

Close.

Just outside the door.

Zacharias froze.

There it was again—shuffling… then a dull thud against the wood.

Once.

Twice.

The handle twitched.

His grip tightened on the letter opener, knuckles whitening as he stared at the door, breath caught somewhere between panic and decision.

“…I really hope,” he whispered, barely audible, “that you’re capable of speaking.”

The handle jerked again.

Jason hated the sewer but he knew it well and it lead to a lot of discrete exits around the city, very handy when you want to get around unnoticed and handle his type of business. It just meant that he had to keep a spare set of clothes somewhere close so he doesn't stink and alert his targets.

Though with things going as badly as they were recently, he was considering looking for new employers or at least a new line of work, unless Umbrella could be as sneaky as they were and still operate under the radar of everyone.

His current task was to track down and deal with a rouge worker, a lot of workers have been dealt with for trying to scurry away from the company when they found out what was going on. Jason was good at his job and never really once questioned it, like it was always his job to do.

It was hard to be silent in the sewer, he never had to hunt anyone down here yet. It was a learning experience for him and if he had to work in similar conditions again, he'd have to reconsider shoes, it was hard to keep his footsteps silent.

As he approached, he could hear the movement and tell he was busted, he opened the door, one arm raised as he pulled the hammer back on his handgun, his eyes trained on the man's silhouette. "And you're going to wish that you were not capable of speaking." The man replied coldly. "Hands where I can see them. You're coming back to NEST."

The voice hit him like a physical blow.

For a split second, Zacharias didn’t move—didn’t breathe. The words sank in, slow and heavy, each one worse than the last.

NEST.

Of course it was NEST.

His grip on the letter opener tightened instinctively, though even he knew how useless it was against a gun. Slowly—very slowly—he straightened from the terminal, shoulders stiff, hands lifting into view exactly as instructed.

“…Right,” he exhaled, a thin, brittle sound of something that might have been a laugh if it hadn’t been so tightly wound with panic. “Yes. Of course. That figures.”

He turned just enough to face the man properly, careful—measured—eyes flicking immediately to the weapon, then back up again. Calculating. Always calculating.

“You’re Umbrella,” he said, not a question—just a quiet, resigned sort of confirmation. “I was wondering how long it would take before you started… cleaning up loose ends.”

His hands stayed raised, but there was tension in them now—coiled, restless. Not surrender. Not quite.

“You’ve come a very long way into a very compromised area,” Zacharias went on, voice steadier than it had any right to be, slipping into that sharp, defensive edge he used when he was cornered. “Which means one of two things.”

A small tilt of his head, studying Jason now despite the situation.

“Either I’m more important than I thought…” he said carefully, “or things are deteriorating faster than your employers are willing to admit.”

A beat.

Then, quieter—more pointed:

“…If it’s the second one, dragging me back to NEST is a spectacularly poor use of your time.”

His gaze flicked briefly toward the door. Not an escape attempt—just awareness. Mapping. Measuring distance.

Then back again.

“I’m not exactly armed,” he added dryly, lifting one hand just slightly to indicate the pathetic excuse for a weapon still clutched between his fingers. “So let’s not pretend this is anything other than a conversation you’d prefer I didn’t survive.”

Another pause—this one deliberate.

Careful.

Testing.

“…Are you actually here to take me in,” Zacharias asked, voice lowering, threading something almost dangerous through the fear, “or just make sure I don’t leave?”

#☣Resident Evil verseﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ #runyou-clever-boy

Jason kept his eyes on the man infront of him, unblinking and steady, sure of everything he was doing. This task was important, he couldn't let information get out, it was crucial.

He kept his finger on the trigger as he watched his target turn around, glancing to his hands quickly and around his waist and under his arms, looking for any other weapons. "I know the MA-124 won't bother me." Jason spoke, having already slipped past the hunter gammas but going back with his mark might make it difficult. The dim light weren't an issue for him, having been adjusted to the conditions for a while.

"It doesn't matter who I'm with, you'd get similar treatment no matter where you scarper off to and you would be in more fear knowing someone is on your heels wherever you go." He spoke, his grip on his gun tightening slightly as he spoke.

His frame blocking the doorway as he took a step inside, his feet almost rooted in place as he looked at the other standing across from him, observing him back. "What is important is that you don't get out.... It doesn't matter where I take you... if we go back, you will just be shipped off to another facility, we both know that, you should more than me." He shot back at him quickly. "You'll just be data in some paper file or another experiment."

He took another step in, slowly closing the gap but staying out of melee range, everything he was doing was like it was done thousands of times before, like he was just a machine doing its daily tasks.

"Anything is a weapon in capable hands, even if its minimal. His hand tightening once again around the grip. "I've been instructed to bring you back alive, but if it comes to it, deadly force has been authorised if you don't cooperate... but I've done this too many times to know you won't... just give me a reason." Jason spoke, sounding a bit darker at the end, his voice shaking, not out of fear or anxiety, but maybe adrenaline, excitement.

"Do you want your final resting place to be among the rats? Maybe you'd fit right in?" He tilted his head slightly with a barely noticeable smirk.

closed starter @grindelwald-fanatic

The lights overhead flickered with a dull, stuttering hum, casting the corridor in uneven pulses of sickly yellow. It made everything harder to track—movement, shadows… time. Zacharias had stopped trusting all three about an hour ago.

He pressed himself back against the wall beside a half-open office door, breath shallow, one hand clamped tight around the handle of a blood-smeared letter opener he’d decided—optimistically—counted as a weapon.

Somewhere deeper in the building, something dragged.

Slow. Wet. Deliberate.

“…Right,” he muttered under his breath, voice tight, more to fill the silence than anything else. “That’s—no, that’s fine. That’s perfectly fine. That’s exactly the sort of thing one expects to hear in a municipal building.”

His eyes flicked down the corridor again. Empty. Too empty.

That was the problem.

When he’d first made it inside, there had been noise—panic, shouting, gunfire echoing through the halls. Now there was just… absence. Like the building itself had already given up.

Zacharias swallowed, forcing himself to move. Staying still wasn’t helping. It never helped.

He slipped into the office, nudging the door open just enough to slide through before easing it shut behind him with careful, shaking fingers. The room was a mess—papers scattered, a chair overturned, dark streaks across the floor he very deliberately did not look at for long.

A computer terminal blinked weakly on the desk.

Still powered.

“…Come on,” he breathed, crossing the room in quick, quiet steps. “There has to be something useful left in this place—access logs, routes, anything…”

He leaned over the terminal, hands hovering for a second before committing, pulling up whatever files hadn’t already been corrupted or wiped.

Names. Transfer orders. Medical shipments—

His stomach dropped.

“Oh, you have got to be—”

A sound cut him off.

Not distant this time.

Close.

Just outside the door.

Zacharias froze.

There it was again—shuffling… then a dull thud against the wood.

Once.

Twice.

The handle twitched.

His grip tightened on the letter opener, knuckles whitening as he stared at the door, breath caught somewhere between panic and decision.

“…I really hope,” he whispered, barely audible, “that you’re capable of speaking.”

The handle jerked again.

#☣Resident Evil verseﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ #runyou-clever-boy

Jason hated the sewer but he knew it well and it lead to a lot of discrete exits around the city, very handy when you want to get around unnoticed and handle his type of business. It just meant that he had to keep a spare set of clothes somewhere close so he doesn't stink and alert his targets.

Though with things going as badly as they were recently, he was considering looking for new employers or at least a new line of work, unless Umbrella could be as sneaky as they were and still operate under the radar of everyone.

His current task was to track down and deal with a rouge worker, a lot of workers have been dealt with for trying to scurry away from the company when they found out what was going on. Jason was good at his job and never really once questioned it, like it was always his job to do.

It was hard to be silent in the sewer, he never had to hunt anyone down here yet. It was a learning experience for him and if he had to work in similar conditions again, he'd have to reconsider shoes, it was hard to keep his footsteps silent.

As he approached, he could hear the movement and tell he was busted, he opened the door, one arm raised as he pulled the hammer back on his handgun, his eyes trained on the man's silhouette. "And you're going to wish that you were not capable of speaking." The man replied coldly. "Hands where I can see them. You're coming back to NEST."

@grindelwald-fanatic

Eventhough Hogwarts would always be his home, James could not help but shake the feeling of dread during his fifth year. Perhaps it was the doom of his OWLS, or the worst Defence Against the Darks professor in history, maybe the whole wizarding community felt the same knowing You-Know-Who had returned. Sat in the transfiguration courtyard, James had one of Umbridge’s textbooks open, nothing that he was reading was sinking in so much so the Hufflepuff had decided to pace back and forth moving his wand in what the theory described. Unfortunately the wizard was so engrossed in his worries he didn’t even see the other student that he managed to bump into.

“Merlin, I’m sorry!”

Jason had already had enough with the new 'teaching style'. Nothing was going anywhere and he knew it was a way of stopping the students from being able to defend themselves. The Slytherin was making his way back from the edge of the forbidden forest. He was practicing more un-taught spells, more than what was considered their level but he knew he had to. Jason was more focused on getting back to the castle that he didn't notice the first and some foliage stuck to the side of his robes. He was too focused on another student before he collided with James.

"Hey... you need to be more careful... you could have poked my eye out."

“I --” James was just about to reply when he quickly recognised who he had bumped into, “Jason! Hi, it’s James, Ana’s friend!” The Hufflepuff offered a small smile though pocketed his wand in his robe, Jason’s reputation always preceded him - even Jordan warned James about him. “How’s your day going?” He shuffled to make small talk, gathering the books he had been reading, “I’ve been trying to practise but could not make heads or tails of these recommended texts from professor Umbridge suggested.”

Jason stopped, looking to the Hufflepuff and bobbed his head side to side slightly, "She might have mentioned you." He responded. The Slytherin knew his name was around, he caused trouble a lot but it was always in the defence of other students but he was always the one in trouble for it, not the bullies. "It has been fine, nothing eventful yet." He shrugged as he watched the other student, frowning. "You won't learn anything from those books... did you keep your old ones? Or did they take them away?"

Now it was James’ turn to frown, “I won’t learn anything from these. . ?” The Hufflepuff asked slowly confused, “but professor Umbridge said these are Ministry approved!” James wondered if perhaps this was a trick on the Slytherin’s part. He slipped the textbook back into his school bag but still looked very confused, “I do have my old stuff but we are meant to be learning theory… to keep us safe?” This was where James had his doubts, Harry Potter would never lie.

#𝇘 Student verse #just a simple brunette

Jason smirked and nodded "Oh did she? She also said we don't really need to learn much about defence... so when you know who comes back or someone else, we'd be sitting ducks." He scoffed, "Look." He sighed, quieting his words, "The Ministry has never cared about the students here.. it's the reason why they've sent her to take over, kick out the headmaster that could defend us and keep us safe. Not some pink, cat loving asshole." Jason never really trusted authorities or any place that had that much power or sway over people, especially when it came down to safety or something so serious.

@grindelwald-fanatic

Eventhough Hogwarts would always be his home, James could not help but shake the feeling of dread during his fifth year. Perhaps it was the doom of his OWLS, or the worst Defence Against the Darks professor in history, maybe the whole wizarding community felt the same knowing You-Know-Who had returned. Sat in the transfiguration courtyard, James had one of Umbridge’s textbooks open, nothing that he was reading was sinking in so much so the Hufflepuff had decided to pace back and forth moving his wand in what the theory described. Unfortunately the wizard was so engrossed in his worries he didn’t even see the other student that he managed to bump into.

“Merlin, I’m sorry!”

Jason had already had enough with the new 'teaching style'. Nothing was going anywhere and he knew it was a way of stopping the students from being able to defend themselves. The Slytherin was making his way back from the edge of the forbidden forest. He was practicing more un-taught spells, more than what was considered their level but he knew he had to. Jason was more focused on getting back to the castle that he didn't notice the first and some foliage stuck to the side of his robes. He was too focused on another student before he collided with James.

"Hey... you need to be more careful... you could have poked my eye out."

“I --” James was just about to reply when he quickly recognised who he had bumped into, “Jason! Hi, it’s James, Ana’s friend!” The Hufflepuff offered a small smile though pocketed his wand in his robe, Jason’s reputation always preceded him - even Jordan warned James about him. “How’s your day going?” He shuffled to make small talk, gathering the books he had been reading, “I’ve been trying to practise but could not make heads or tails of these recommended texts from professor Umbridge suggested.”

#just a simple brunette #𝇘 Student verse

Jason stopped, looking to the Hufflepuff and bobbed his head side to side slightly, "She might have mentioned you." He responded. The Slytherin knew his name was around, he caused trouble a lot but it was always in the defence of other students but he was always the one in trouble for it, not the bullies. "It has been fine, nothing eventful yet." He shrugged as he watched the other student, frowning. "You won't learn anything from those books... did you keep your old ones? Or did they take them away?"

@grindelwald-fanatic

Eventhough Hogwarts would always be his home, James could not help but shake the feeling of dread during his fifth year. Perhaps it was the doom of his OWLS, or the worst Defence Against the Darks professor in history, maybe the whole wizarding community felt the same knowing You-Know-Who had returned. Sat in the transfiguration courtyard, James had one of Umbridge’s textbooks open, nothing that he was reading was sinking in so much so the Hufflepuff had decided to pace back and forth moving his wand in what the theory described. Unfortunately the wizard was so engrossed in his worries he didn’t even see the other student that he managed to bump into.

“Merlin, I’m sorry!”

#just a simple brunette #𝇘 Student verse

Jason had already had enough with the new 'teaching style'. Nothing was going anywhere and he knew it was a way of stopping the students from being able to defend themselves. The Slytherin was making his way back from the edge of the forbidden forest. He was practicing more un-taught spells, more than what was considered their level but he knew he had to. Jason was more focused on getting back to the castle that he didn't notice the first and some foliage stuck to the side of his robes. He was too focused on another student before he collided with James.

"Hey... you need to be more careful... you could have poked my eye out."

@grindelwald-fanatic

The Political Prisoners were people who were arrested by Hugo Strange for knowing too much about Arkham City or for being a danger to his plans. Some people became Political Prisoners because they objected to the idea of Arkham City, while others got themselves deliberately thrown in the prison city to uncover more about it, such as Jack Ryder. Unfortunately Zacharias Smith was one such prisoners, whereby he was getting beaten half to death.

“Screw this!” Grunted the criminal running away, he seemed to have little interest in getting injured just for some fire. Zacharias panted like a dog on the floor, he was struggling to even sit up having gotten beaten over his face as well as struck in his stomach. Eventually he looked up at the stranger, uncertainty filling his eyes. His nose was clearly broken and his bottom lip was split, Zac held onto his side but did not move. “Thanks --” spat the political prisoner, more red decorating the white.

Jason kept the gun trained on the criminal ad he ran, making sure he was gone before putting his weapons away. Then he shuffled closer to the fire, putting his hands over it and rubbed his hands. "I didn't do that for you.... you were just there and I needed to warm up." He muttered, glancing to the man on the floor. Jason could tell how bad he was beaten, he had done some worse things to others and knew the man would be fine eventually, that's if he didn't get beaten again.

Zacharias snorted, laughing at the stranger's excuse for helping him, “right right and I’m Batman,” he smirked, using the same smart mouth that got him into trouble in the first place. “You couldn’t warm up inside or do you prefer the company of the rubbish around?” The political prisoner had hosted himself up and leaned against the alleyway brick wall, he too found comfort in the fire but couldn’t move much else. Specks of green seemed to linger beneath his blue coat, the same neon green that a familiar villain used in Gotham, Zac hadn’t noticed his slip up given he was almost beaten half to death.

As he warmed up, he shrugged, "And I'm sure batman is an informant and is placing those little statues Enigma wants him to collect. But sure, you're batman." He scoffed as he glanced around, scanning every corner. "My usual place of residence has been taken over and I'm currently sorting another place out." Jason replied. "Doesn't your boss pay enough for you to get a place? Or can't you see he's just using you and doesn't care about you at all?"

#⟠Arkham Verse

@grindelwald-fanatic

The Political Prisoners were people who were arrested by Hugo Strange for knowing too much about Arkham City or for being a danger to his plans. Some people became Political Prisoners because they objected to the idea of Arkham City, while others got themselves deliberately thrown in the prison city to uncover more about it, such as Jack Ryder. Unfortunately Zacharias Smith was one such prisoners, whereby he was getting beaten half to death.

“Screw this!” Grunted the criminal running away, he seemed to have little interest in getting injured just for some fire. Zacharias panted like a dog on the floor, he was struggling to even sit up having gotten beaten over his face as well as struck in his stomach. Eventually he looked up at the stranger, uncertainty filling his eyes. His nose was clearly broken and his bottom lip was split, Zac held onto his side but did not move. “Thanks --” spat the political prisoner, more red decorating the white.

#⟠Arkham Verse #runyou clever boy

Jason kept the gun trained on the criminal ad he ran, making sure he was gone before putting his weapons away. Then he shuffled closer to the fire, putting his hands over it and rubbed his hands. "I didn't do that for you.... you were just there and I needed to warm up." He muttered, glancing to the man on the floor. Jason could tell how bad he was beaten, he had done some worse things to others and knew the man would be fine eventually, that's if he didn't get beaten again.

@grindelwald-fanatic

The Political Prisoners were people who were arrested by Hugo Strange for knowing too much about Arkham City or for being a danger to his plans. Some people became Political Prisoners because they objected to the idea of Arkham City, while others got themselves deliberately thrown in the prison city to uncover more about it, such as Jack Ryder. Unfortunately Zacharias Smith was one such prisoners, whereby he was getting beaten half to death.

Jason was one of Black Mask's men, usually the one who'd do the dirty work when Roman needed an alibi to be innocent. Though Roman now seemed to be having a mental break in the city. He was just skulking around, not wanting a fight but he needed some food and warmth. He heard the commotion and would usually stay away, there was always something going on in the city but he was desperate and they were near a dumpster fire. "Hey... I'd recommend you stop or I'll make you." He threatened as he walked out of the alleyway, reaching behind his back for his knife and his other hand resting on the pistol he had in his jacket pocket.

The criminal dressed in orange turned to glare, he was just in the middle of beating Zacharias half to death with blood decorating the grey snow. “Back off -- this is none of your business!” There was a weak cough, the young man cowered in the corner shaking all over, Zacharias did not even bother to look up, seemingly accepting his fate. “Why don’t you run along,” the criminal cracked his knuckles leery, “unless you want a taste!”

#runyou clever boy #⟠Arkham Verse

Jason kept his eyes on the criminal, smirking slightly. "I know it isn't my business, I don't care about whoever it is on the floor, but you've got the fire, I need it now." He spoke, pulling out both the gun and knife, letting the blade flash in the moonlight, "Which one did you want a taste?" He replied, mocking him. "Lead from this gun, or some steel from my trusty little friend? Or I can give you both if that's what you want?" Jason shrugged, advancing a bit closer to them.

@grindelwald-fanatic

The Political Prisoners were people who were arrested by Hugo Strange for knowing too much about Arkham City or for being a danger to his plans. Some people became Political Prisoners because they objected to the idea of Arkham City, while others got themselves deliberately thrown in the prison city to uncover more about it, such as Jack Ryder. Unfortunately Zacharias Smith was one such prisoners, whereby he was getting beaten half to death.