The Escaped

Series note: This is the second act of the Red Bird, Blue Bird series. Each story can be read alone, but contains references to the other parts in this series. This occurs shortly after Shooting the Breeze and the next in the series is Spilled Coffee. Thank you and enjoy!

*Story note: To bypass the OC section and skip straight to the boys, feel free to scroll down and start reading at the next page break after this one; any necessary information will be summarized there. No worries. You're welcome.

It was a quiet night in Arkham Asylum; or, at least, what passed for a quiet night in an insane asylum. That's what the other night shift guards told Aaron Fuller before he went on his patrol. It was only his second day on the job, so he hadn't been around nearly long enough to judge a noisy night from a quiet one.

Walking the hallways of the asylum, you could hear the Joker laughing maniacally, the Riddler telling riddles to anyone who would listen, the faint sound of Two-Face flipping his coin, and so on and so forth. Aaron had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he figured it was just his nerves still. He tried to ignore it, but just something didn't feel right.

Shaking off the feeling best he could, he continued his rounds, nodding in greeting to each doctor or orderly that passed him in the halls, the names and faces of which he had been advised to memorize, though he had yet to do so.

He passed several cells, passing the Joker's made the uneasy feeling come back all at once.

"Hey, you're the new guy," Joker said with that wide grin on his face. "I love new guys; they are fun to make scream."

Aaron ignored the remark, and continued down the hallway.

"Wanna play a game of chance?" Two-Face asked as Aaron walked past.

"Riddle me this. I am the only organ that named myself. What am I?" The Riddler intoned in a mocking sort of way.

"Care to join my tea party?" asked the Mad Hatter, raising a non-existent hat his way in a polite bow.

Aaron just continued pass them all, checking each cell for its occupant before moving on to the next.

As he passed a collection of empty cells, he paused. For a moment, he could have sworn he saw something. Turning back, he saw a small figure lying in a bed of one of the cells.

Normally, he would assume he just wasn't informed of a new inmate being admitted, but at this particular point in time, the uneasiness he had been feeling on and off all night skyrocketed.

Aaron shook his head, and headed toward the infirmary.

The halls were freezing, making the uneasy feeling worse. He didn't want to look weak in front of the inmates, so he kept his pace even as he made his way to the infirmary in the criminally insane ward.

Dr. Jeremy Tomes, head psychiatrist of the criminally insane, was a tall, thin, bespectacled man with mousy brown hair and nice teeth. He, like most of the staff at Arkham, had not been employed there long. His tenure as head psychiatrist began just under four months ago. The position didn't tend to stay occupied for long, though, and Aaron had gotten wind of a betting pool between the nightshift guards as to how long Dr. Tomes would remain.

Stopping in front of the good doctor's office door, Aaron gave a tentative knock.

"Come in," came from within.

Obeying the command, Aaron opened the door, peaking his head inside. "Hey, Doc."

"Oh, hello," the doctor greeted, looking up from his paperwork. He was seated behind his desk; piles of case files were stacked neatly around the small office. "What can I do for you, Mr. . . ?"

"Fuller. Officer Fuller," Aaron supplied, stepping into the office and shutting the door behind him. "Uhm, was there a new inmate admitted today that someone didn't tell me about?"

"New inmate? No, I don't believe so." The doctor looked perplexed. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I was doing my rounds, like normal, and when I looked into one of the cells that were empty yesterday, there was someone in it."

"Which cell? You're sure it was empty before?" asked the doctor as he shuffled through some of his papers. Aaron assumed he was looking for a patient log of some kind.

"Yeah, I double checked since it was my first day. My supervisor was with me and everything. That cell was empty; I'm sure of it."

"What was the cell number?"

"213, I'm certain it was empty."

The doctor checked over a piece of paper, a frown fixed on his face. "Officer Fuller . . . no one should be in that cell." Standing from his seat and rounding the desk, the doctor took Aaron's arm. "Show me where you saw him."

The two men rushed out of the infirmary and to cell 213.

The person was still in the cell when they reached it. A high-pitched and grating voice spoke out as they approached. "Hiya, fellas! I was feeling a bit psychotic so I figured I'd check myself in."

"Good God," announced Dr. Tomes. "It's Harley Quinn!"

"The Joker's broad?" asked Aaron, dumbstruck. "How'd she get in here? Why'd she get in here?"

"Call the guard's station, we have to alert—"

A sudden blast from somewhere down the hall had both men dropping to the ground, hands over their heads. The sight had Harley giggling gleefully as another explosion quickly followed the first.

Several more explosions went off down the corridor. Harley was still giggling, along with jumping up and down excitedly. She pushed open the door as soon as she heard the Joker's laugh.

"Mr. J!"

"Harley, darling, it's time to play." The Joker's smile widened as he looked at the two men on the ground.

"I did just what ya told me to, Mr. J. I set all our friends and everyone free!"

"E-everyone?" asked Dr. Tomes with a frightened tremor, still crouched on the floor beside Aaron, who was shocked the doctor had even found his voice with how pale the good doctor had become.

"Yup!" Harley Quinn answered with a cheerful pop.

The Joker just laughed, stepping closer to the two men on the ground. "Get up! I said it was time to play!"

They got to their feet as quickly as they possibly could.

Harley giggled again, "Better listen to my Puddin'!"

The Joker and Harley shoved the stumbling doctor and officer towards the infirmary.

"Well, boys, we are just gonna have a blast tonight!" The infirmary door was shut behind him by Harley.

Startled shrieks sounded from the three night nurses who were restocking the infirmary as the odd troupe were forced into the room.

"What's going on?" asked one of the nurses, a young blonde, pretty, if a bit plain. Aaron glanced at her name tag. 'Faith May,' it read. And he checked the other two girls' badges as he and the doctor corralled them in a corner, using themselves as the only protection for the young women. Jaime Filener, a short brunette covered in freckles and openly staring with wide fearful eyes, seemed nearly frozen in place. Aaron tried his best to be gentle with the poor girl. The third nurse, Belle James, her tightly curled hair pulled back into a tight bun, and bright green eyes showing fear against her mocha skin was easy enough to urge along.

Once everyone was herded together into the corner and the door had been secured by Harley, the Joker picked up a scalpel from a tool tray sitting on a nearby counter. Blade gleaming in the bright lighting, a low, dark chuckle filled the air and a killer look came into his eyes as he made his way towards his terrified victims.

~O~

"There was a mass breakout from Arkham late last night." Batman's voice rang out from the comm device Nightwing held up for he and Red Hood to hear. "Security cameras show Harley Quinn setting explosive charges on cell doors. At 3:42 am, they blew in ten second intervals."

"But how did Quinn even get in there?" Nightwing piped in, glancing at Red Hood who was watching their surroundings. The two stood close together on a rooftop about a block from the Gotham Clock Tower, the eastern horizon steadily lightening as the sun rose. "I thought they had that place pretty well locked down."

"Apparently, it wasn't as secure as we had hoped," Batman replied seemingly emotionlessly, but Dick could hear the hidden disappointment of Arkham's newest security measures in his voice.

In contrast, Red Hood was stiff beside him, tone clipped from restrained emotion as he asked, "How many casualties?"

"Five confirmed: newly appointed lead psychiatrist, three nurses, and a guard."

A mass escape with only five confirmed deaths? Thankful as he was for the low number – though isn't even one death too many? – something about it didn't sit right with him. Bemused, Nightwing asked, "Only one guard?"

"Yes."

"How were they killed?" Red Hood demanded suddenly.

The reply was immediate. "A scalpel to each of their throats. There is evidence of torture both post- and ante-mortem."

"The Joker. It has to be," Red Hood said, not needing a confirmation.

This time Batman hesitated a moment before finally agreeing. "Yes."

"Hood," Nightwing tried as Red Hood huffed angrily and began pacing. Knowing it wouldn't help, Dick quickly switched tracks. "Who all got out?" he asked, directing his question at the comm.

"The Joker, Two-Face, Poison Ivy, Killer Croc, Mad Hatter, the Riddler, and Scarecrow, to name a few. Seventeen inmates escaped in total."

He let out a low whistle, sending sidelong glances towards his agitated brother. "Big few. Need any help there?"

"No. Arkham has been secured, for now. Go home, get some rest. Both of you." The last, he knew, was directed at Red Hood. "We all have our work cut out for us come nightfall. Batman, over and out."

"Copy, over and out." Nightwing tucked the communicator away. He took a quiet breath to steady himself – there was always something going wrong in Gotham, it seemed – before looking up at his brother and waiting.

"I need to find him," Red Hood growled not even a second later. The younger man continued pacing back and forth across the rooftop with anger pouring off him in almost tangible waves; Dick had to shake the sudden mental image of a bull preparing to charge. "The bastard doesn't deserve to live."

It didn't take a detective to know who he was talking about. "Not on your own. We don't know where he is or what he has planned. You'd be going in blind right now, even if you did know where to find him," Nightwing said trying to be the voice of reason. "Besides, they'll all be laying low right now. Stretching their legs and enjoying their stolen freedom for a while before they make any trouble. There's no point going out there this morning."

His words were met with silence for a while, but Dick waited; waited for his words to sink in and for his brother to come to a decision. He saw it the moment Jason resigned to the truth. Red Hood ceased his pacing, shoulders slumping. He rolled his head heavenward – probably with a sardonic eye roll hidden beneath his helmet – then popped his neck either side before turning back to Nightwing. "So what do you think?"

Nightwing sighed, but straightened his spine in response. "I think Bats is right, we've got our work cut out for us." Silence fell again between them for a moment before Dick assured, "We'll get him, Hood. But you've got to do it my way. I promise, we'll get him – all of them – but we have to do this together. Don't go all 'Lone Ranger' on me, alright?" I can't lose you again, little brother. I need your help on this one.

Stuffing his hands in his front pockets, Jason heaved his own sigh. "No promises . . . but, I'll try."

"That's all I can ask," Dick returned mildly with a slight dip of his head. "Go head and catch some Z's. I'll dig up the details on the case and fill you in later." It was almost an order, almost a request, and he almost worried he'd pushed too far; but Jason went easily, barely a hint of hesitation before he left.

As the sun finally broke over the horizon, Dick got a last glimpse of red helmet and dark leather disappearing of the rooftop. A moment later, the sound of a motorcycle revving up and flying away let him know his brother was gone. Letting out a breath, Dick headed off towards his apartment.

The end.

*Edited for content and quality: 11/28/17