Peyton felt silly. She felt downright stupid. She wasn't crazy! Not crazy at all! So...why was she here? She was looking for a doctor's office. She needed someone to take a look at her and tell her she wasn't crazy. Someone that didn't only move when she moved. Someone who didn't call her Sugar. Someone who wasn't a criminal. Someone...who was sane. Clinically sane. Mentally healthy. She had a few questions for a doctor, any doctor that would approach her. She wanted to know about PTSD, multiple personality syndrome and other diseases she thought she had but was sure she didn't.

She was dressed much more modestly than she usually dressed. She had on a beautiful white skirt suit, a hat and pearl earrings and necklace. Her camisole, which she wore under the jacket, was pink. Her eye was covered by her hair again. She didn't want to spook the doctor.

"You ain't crazy, Sugar. I'm all real, honey." Her boss had told her this before she left for Arkham. She shrugged it off. She just wanted to make sure the accident didn't give her brain damage. But she wasn't crazy. Was she sure? No? Why the hell was she here?

"Don't be too long at the loony bin, Sugar. We got plans tonight." Plans she had no idea about. Scarface never shared his plans with her until the last minute. And now with the Penguin's help...well...She was ready to take Gotham's underground by storm, she thought as she looked for a friendly face in a white coat.

But she wasn't crazy. No, not crazy in the least.