Escaping the Asylum
Lightning crackled and thunder rolled over the rain soaked island of Arkham Asylum. The sirens bleared out across the wet slated rooftops. Shouts from the guards could barely be heard as they ran along the slippery stone paths of the grounds in search of the escapees. Cascades of rain drops were lit up as the flood lights swung through the night. All the commotion, however, went unnoticed by a group of intrepid explorers deep in the tunnels of the sewer network.
"Oh, just face it, Croc. You're lost," said Joker for the hundredth time.
"Shut your trap, Joker," snarled Killer Croc as he searched around for a man hole. "Crocodiles can find locations over 60 miles away, over land. They tracking them by the earth's magnetics."
"Riddle me this: when is a map not a map?" asked Riddler irritably.
"That's the fifth riddle you've made about the GPS on your phone not working," said Scarecrow, far past the point of boredom, "and they all sucked."
"It's not just a phone, it's an iPhone," said Riddler incredulously.
"I don't care, it's still a useless lump of plastic," retorted Scarecrow as he cleaned his left-hand finger nails with his syringe-tips on his right-hand glove.
"That's just what a dimwitted, hippy, troglodyte would say about the wonders of modern technology," said Riddler, getting angry as he moved towards Scarecrow.
"Hey, cabrón!" called a voice from behind them. Bane, still well muscled but considerably slighter from after his venom detox, stood down the tunnel at a junction. "I found the man hole."
"Well, yeah, I knew it was over there," said Killer Croc defensively.
"We passed that tunnel twice already, lizard-brain," said Joker in a monotone. "I'm not finding this fun in the slightest. If it wasn't for Bane we'd have been stuck down here all night."
"Technically crocodiles aren't lizards, though they are of the reptilia class that is made up of lizards, snakes, turtles, crocodiles and tuatara. But recently they moved dinosaurs into that group as well with bird classified under dinosaurs. Quite fascinating really," lectured Killer Croc before noticing that everybody had already left. Running to catch up, he found the ladder and climbed out into the underground parking lot.
In the darkest City there was the darkest suburb in which was situated the darkest mansion. In this dark mansion there was a dark hall which held a dark door that opened to a dark and deep stairwell, and at the bottom was the darkest, scariest and most evil broom cupboard. About twelve miles to the east however, a little red light blinked.
Alfred, who is certainly not Michael Caine, walked down into the BatcaveTM to tidy up the plates and coffee mugs.
"You do know that the Arkham emergency light is on, master Bruce?" Alfred glanced over the BatputerTM's controls. "Also, it appears that the alarm has been muted."
"It was interrupting my brooding practice," came a voice out of the darkness. "I'm training in prolonged brooding while hanging upside-down. I think this an unexplored area of research in the whole brooding science."
"And this is more important than saving the lives of innocent civilians?" asked Alfred dryly, somehow conveying disapproval.
"Oh, it's only Arkham. It takes an average of twenty minutes
"Really Bruce, one of these days something bad is going to happen and you'll only have yourself to blame," said Alfred as he returned to the mansion proper. Once the door was shut and Alfred was well out of ear shot BatmanTM yelled at the top- or bottom- of his lungs as darkly as possible:
"YOU'RE NOT MY REAL FATHER!" Then a few seconds of silence later, "Computer analyse that last audio input and return an angst index and a brood quotient."
"I'm not getting into that," said Killer Croc as they gazed at Scarecrow's car with differing emotions.
"Why?" giggled Scarecrow. "Are you too scared too ride in my car of horrors?"
"Well, I'd have to say that I would fear for my life if I rode in that contraption, but I don't think that's what Croc meant," said Joker.
"I'd prefer to walk than get into that thing! Did you know crocodiles can walk over 100 miles on land to get to a new river which they can sense by bellowing into the ground and hearing the subsonic vibrations through their stomachs?" said Killer Croc.
"But it could give you the ride of your life," giggled Scarecrow.
"It's a fucking rusted Datsun 1000 coupè," yelled Bane incredulously. "There's five of us and that can fit three at best. Hell, Croc couldn't even fit in that even if you took all the seats out. Not that it could take the weight. I bet you it's got a cracked wishbone by the way it's sitting."
"Don't you dare hurt my petal!" shrieked Scarecrow.
"So it looks like we'll have to travel in the Mystery Mobile," said Riddler in a smug tone.
"By 'Mystery Mobile' do you by chance mean 'badly painted green panel van'? Because that's what I see," stated Joker.
"So how do we get into it?" asked Scarecrow, tugging at the handle and peering in to double check that it was in fact unlocked.
"It is one of my greatest riddles. Not even The BatTM could solve it!" boasted Riddler.
"Did he even try?" asked Killer Croc, not really interested.
"Let's just say he mulled it over for a month before he had it towed away. I had to buy it back at the auction remotely, but it only cost me twenty dollars." Riddler's smugness increased with every word.
"You paid money for this? I would have paid someone to set it on fire," muttered Bane.
"So how do we get into it?" asked Scarecrow again.
"It's elementary, really," said Riddler, chuckling. "All you have to do is..." Riddler took out a green and question-mark handled screwdriver which he stuck in the driver's side lock and twisted. There was a click from the central locking. He then walked to the back doors and twisted the handle down and then forcefully jumped on the tailgate. There was a pop from the bonnet. Still smiling, Riddler opened the bonnet, disconnected two wires and then touched them until the sky light had wound itself back. He then reconnected the wires, closed the bonnet, walked up onto the roof , hopped through the skylight, closed it, pulled out his screwdriver again and turned it in the ignition. Over the rough noise of the engine and rattle of the muffler, he called "See, even a child could have figured that one out."
"So how do we get in? The doors are still locked." complained Scarecrow.
"Wow, that sounds like she's running rich," commented Bane to no one in particular.
"I'm sorry, what did you say?" called back Riddler.
"HOW... DO... WE... GET... IN?" yelled back Scarecrow.
"Oh, right. Yeah, the thing is..." Riddler started to look vaguely around the car. "Can you smell that? I think I can, um. I'm very..."
"I think there's an exhaust leak," commented Bane.
"I'm just going to have a little nap," said Riddler, and then slumped up against the window.
"Oh, let's take this one." called out Joker from further down the lot. "It's big, it's shiny, it looks powerful and-"
"It's mine!" interrupted Bane. "I know this sort of thing. We drive that out onto the streets and then the next minute BatmanTM runs us off the road and my baby is in the wreckers."
"Oh, come on Bane. What are the chances of the BatTM even knowing it's us?" asked Joker.
"Well, we would have a giant crocodile-man sitting in the back. That might give us away," stated Scarecrow.
"The biggest male crocodile get to have a harem of nubile young girls all to himself," said Killer Croc sagely. The others turned to look at him.
"Really?" asked Joker, "Nubile young girls?"
"I-I meant female crocodiles. Really, I did," replied Killer Croc nervously.
"Do you really think you could get a harem of girls?" asked Scarecrow.
"I have heaps of girls friending me on LiveJournal, and I get lots of positive responses on ," replied Killer Croc defensively.
"They're all like fifteen year old tubby nerd girls. That doesn't count," laughed Scarecrow.
"They probably thought you were a bad Thing cosplayer," added Bane.
"Oh, you're one of them, are you?" said Joker from the front seat of Bane's Hummer. "I know how it is." He turned the key in the ignition and it started to purr.
"One of what?" asked Killer Croc worriedly.
"Pinche pendejo, get out of my car!" yelled Bane, opening the door and dragging Joker out from the seat. "This baby has got a Rotrex C30-94 Supercharger, cast aluminium mounting bracket, custom liquid to air intercooler with unique cast aluminium end tanks and high efficiency Honeywell core OEM manufactured heat exchanger with Bosch circulation pump. Dedicated 8 rib belt drive, with billet aluminium drive pulley and automatic belt tensioner. High flow K&N oiled cotton gauze media conical air filtration system with W2W designed noise attenuator. Silicone coupler ducts with stainless steel hose clamps. Delphi fuel injectors. A Wrangler NW High Output Alternator Kit with 250 amps output, 125 amps idle output. Dual fans for superior cooling. And it works with the on-board electronics and memory systems to deliver the optimised power levels without compromising the OEM computer controls. T-304 Stainless exhaust. Central beer cooler. Front and back fishing rod holders and 8.7" halogen head lamps."
"I would be more impressed, Banie-Baby, if I knew what any of that meant," said Joker. "But I really couldn't care less."
"It means that you couldn't drive it, chico," replied Bane.
"It that crocodile leather interior?" asked Scarecrow suspiciously.
"Yeah," replied Bane proudly. Joker and Scarecrow both turned to Killer Croc.
"What?" asked Killer Croc. "I don't care. You guys kill people all the time. You think I'm gonna care about one crocodile?"
"Actually it's about eight," interjected Bane.
"Are we going to stand around here all night talking or are we going to get a move on?" asked Scarecrow, poking his head out of the back window.
"We are not taking mi Princesa!" argued Bane.
"You're not scared we might break it are you? Oh wait, don't answer that, you already said," replied Scarecrow.
"Look, if we damage your beloved car, I promise to pay all the damages," reassured Joker. "On my mother's life."
"You don't even know who you mother is. But I'll hold you to that," said Bane menacingly as he hopped into the drivers seat. They pulled out of the car park and up to the parking lot gate. Bane leant out his window and put his ticket into the machine. Then they stopped again once at the main gate.
"Just drive through it," said the Joker.
"I'd scratch the paint work. Crane, can you hop out and open the gate?" asked Bane.
"You're no fun," muttered Joker.
"No. Croc, you do it," whined Scarecrow. Killer Croc grumbled as he got out the car and proceeded to rip the gate's off their hinges.
Bane waited until Killer Croc had got back into the car before asking "You did know those were unlocked, right?"
"You did know you could have just done it yourself, right?" mimicked Killer Croc, and they drove off of Arkham Island.
"The night swooped down upon Arkham Asylum like the darkest... night. The shadows were as deep as the limitless abyss. And what horrors do the shadows hold, you may ask? But they do not answer you, for the shadows have no name.
"With a simple flick of its wings, the darkness flutters down to the hard cobblestones. Cobblestone as hard as the night and as rigid as the law. But the darkness has no law. The darkness is lawless.
"The embodiment of the lawless darkness studies the ground and pretends that it is looking at tracks in the mud. But it knows that you are hiding behind that corner and are going to hit it with that guard's baton. You may even try your luck and see if you can take down the shadows before your own sanity flees.
"Ah, but you choose to run like the rest. And of course you run right into the trip wire the darkness set up. And now the night is tasering you. And that's that one. But what about you little mouse, quivering in the corner? The shadows aren't going to save you, now. You could run, or try to fight, but the end is still the same. You can't fight shadows."
"Okay," shrieked the crazed escapee. "I'll go back to my cell! Just don't let that thing anywhere near me!"
"And the orderlies take away the flotsam that pollutes the night."
"Well, thanks for your help, Robin. You've been indispensable," said the chief guard.
"The darkness needs not the gratitude of its children. And with that the night is away. Coasting from shadow to shadow, riding the abyss. Is this the Joker's cell I spy? And that of the Riddler? They are as empty as the soul of the night. The darkness must admit them back into its fold. The BatTM needs to be informed of this and the shadows can provide."
"BatmanTM, The BatTM, The World's Greatest DetectiveTM, The Dark KnightTM is unavailable at the moment. Please leave a message after the angst: NNRGHHH!"
"The night does not need the help of The BatTM. The shadows can work alone, for there are many shadows, but all are one great shadowy abyss."
Jane was tired. Her migraine was a persistent throbbing that no amount of water could solve. She pulled over at the drug store to pick up some Ibuprofen. The sickly sweet smell and harsh fluorescent light almost crippled her as she steadied herself against a hat and umbrella stand.
"Are you alright?" asked the chemist, a young Indian man who smelled of dank sweat, bad cologne, and... spices? He put his hands on her shoulders to try and help, but the smell of the gum on his breath reacted badly with her empty stomach and she felt like she was going to throw up. Jane pushed him away, erecting herself.
"I'm all right," she said, shielding her eyes from the light. "I just felt a bit light headed. Can I have some painkillers?"
"Sure," replied the chemist moving off down the aisles. "Did you want the cheapest ones?"
"Just get me the strongest you have," answered Jane. She was seriously considering calling up her husband and saying she wouldn't be able to make it to their son's birthday dinner, but she hadn't been spending enough time with him lately due to work. She could either mentally scar her child, or struggle through the blistering headache that dealing with her annoying night-fill co-workers gave her.
"Are these alright?" asked the chemist. Jane bought them with a bottle of water and left the store. She drove to the restaurant and found a park a block down, her head still pounding out a metal ballad. Just before the corner where the restaurant was Jane saw her husband and two children crossing at the lights. There was a loud crash and her husband looked across the intersection. He then dove to protect the children as a truck slid sideways over the top of them. As Jane ran towards them, something exploded.
The world was muted, as if someone had turned the volume down. Jane felt that something very hot was close to her but her face was cold and wet. She got to her feet slowly. Her umbrella was gone and the rain was soaking her thin jacket. Someone nearby was screaming. Jane looked around and saw a few smashed cars and a tipped delivery truck; there were flames on the street around it. Car horns were jammed on, and a fire hydrant had been smashed.
A great scream of metal tearing apart came from an orange hummer, and a huge muscular man burst forth emitting his own scream. He spun around and ripped a light pole out of the ground to smash it on an already wrecked car. There were people in there, said a tiny voice in the back of Jane's head. Then she remembered her family and ran awkwardly towards the truck. To the screams of more people the large man picked up another car and threw it through a cafe's front window. Something must have been flammable because the car caught fire, trapping the occupants of both the car and the cafe inside. There were other screams and roars as things were smashed and thrown about. Fires were springing up all over the place but Jane was unaware. She had found her husband. He was wedged between the top of the truck and the front of a smashed car. His lower torso was pinned.
"Jacob? Jacob?" she rasped as she ran over to him. He was covered in a lot of blood, but he was still breathing.
"Oh, Jacob. I'll get some help," Jane reassured him. "Help! Somebody we need help over here!"
Jane stood up to see if she could find anyone but then saw a small body lying broken on the windshield of the car next to her. It was wearing her daughters new dress. She was frozen in a sea of wind, rain, flames and terror. Then the truck's gas tank exploded.
"Fucking hell!" swore Joker as he got out of the wreck of Bane's hummer. "This is just fucking brilliant. Now what are we going to drive!"
"Argh, I think I bit my tongue," moaned Killer Croc as he also climbed out.
"Well, you shouldn't have been drinking in the car," said Scarecrow from his seated position on the roof of the car. "Odd how Bane had equipped the driver's crash protection with a boost of venom. He'll probably calm down in a minute or two."
"Great, that's all we need." said Joker sarcastically while he looked around for a convenient ride to acquire. "The last thing I wanted was a strung-out junky we'll have to lug around. Croc, go collect him, I think he's spent."
Killer Croc found Bane back to his previous size and curled up in a ball whimpering to himself. Killler Croc just slung him over his shoulder. Behind them a truck exploded.
"Hey Joker?" called Killer Croc when the furnace had died down. "Here comes an ambulance."
Joker laughed with glee as he jogged up to the occupied ambulance and again as he and Scarecrow managed to unoccupy it. They all piled in and took off as Scarecrow pumped Bane full of drugs to try and stabilise him. Scarecrow may also have taken some himself just for the fun of it.
In the realm of Deepholm, west of the Temple of Earth, the tauren shaman Patience Bloodhorn stood over the shattered remains of the gyreworm Corborus, dusting off her hammer and healing up. The party reorganised themselves, readying for the assault upon the stone drake Slabhide.
"Bloodhorn, are you ready or are you just pretending to be heroic?" asked Kidney-Slicer, a Blood Elf Hunter.
"Just don't run too far ahead, little child," retorted Patience, chuckling.
Blip!
"Oh, shit! I've got a call coming through on another line. Hold on a moment," said Patience as she logged into different window.
"What is it Bruce? I'm busy," asked Barbara Gordon.
"Barbara, I was wondering what the broodiest food was, scientifically speaking?"
"Bruce, I'm kinda busy right now," huffed Oracle. "If you don't have anything important to ask me, could you then not call back later? I'm in the middle of an instance."
"Do you need help?" asked BatmanTM, "I could assist you."
"You don't play WoW, Bruce. I don't think you could help," replied Oracle with a laugh. "Goodnight, Bruce."
"Sorry, guys," said Patience returning to reality. She then realised that the others had moved onto the next encounter. "You can't run off without the party's healer."
The Gotham City Bank was a quiet reserved bank for the discerning businessman, open until late in the evening for those occasions when important transactions needed to be made at a soiree. Trevor Kealand was working the Friday graveyard shift. His hard work had quickly promoted him to night shift manager. He loved his work and his pay and asset accumulation reflected that. On the whole, Trevor was content with his circumstances.
Someone who was not content with his circumstance was a Trent Campbell down at the New Gotham Central Bank. It was a Friday night and he'd been invited to Clair's party. Instead Trent was working the late shift with Cynthia, and more weirdos were in tonight than usual. Five old people had already asked him to take their jars of pennies instead of putting them through the counting machine. Two hobos had come in and muttered for half an hour just to stay out of the rain, and one of them had stolen all the withdrawal slips. Trent was tired, bored, and irritable and Cynthia's terrible music wasn't helping. There also was a commotion near the back of the line and Trent's anger wound up inside him as it approached. But when the commotion arrived Trent was so wound up that he couldn't move. He couldn't think. He just sat.
"Are you listening to me? I said I'd like to withdraw $50," said Joker loudly and clearly through the little hole in the glass. "I would've filled out one of those little slips but you're out. I just filled it all out on this bit of gauze. Just punch it into the computer and give me my money and we'll be on our way."
Trent looked down at the gauze. Then his hands took over. The account didn't seem to exist.
"It... it says... no... th-the account," Trent managed to say.
"I can't believe you didn't bring any cash. That was your one whole job," sighed Scarecrow as he rolled a spliff and lit it.
"Er, try Jack White," said Joker. Trent shook his head. "No, how about Joseph Kerr, that's K, E, double R? Um, got any Clem Rusty's? Oberon Sexton! I know I've a ton of cash under that name?"
"I'm... sir," muttered Trent. At that moment the doors opened and something that would've liked to resemble a crocodile walked in.
"Hey Joker," called out Killer Croc. "I can't double park forever. Hurry up and get the money so we can go."
Just then another function in Trent reacted automatically. The sirens went off and the doors and shutters activated.
"Oh fuck," said Cynthia from the other counter. "Now we're trapped in here with them. Great going, Trent."
"Okay, now this is a hold up!" yelled Joker climbing onto the lip of the counter. "Where is the guard?"
"Er, he's trapped outside," replied Killer Croc.
"But this is the Gotham City Bank. They've got more than just one guard," stated Joker scanning around behind the counters.
"Er, this is the New Gotham Central Bank," piped up Cynthia.
"What? I've never heard of that bank," replied Joker suspiciously.
"How did you not know we were in the wrong bank?" asked Scarecrow, exasperated.
"I do all my banking online," said Joker defensively. "And I haven't been able to use an ATM since Harley thought it would be funny to drop a magnet into my pocket. What a gal."
"So what do we do now? I'm getting really hungry," asked Killer Croc.
"Oh, right." Joker refocused himself to the task at hand. "The first person to give me fifty dollars gets to watch us kill everyone else. For all of you slow on the up take, that means that you're not one of them." In seconds they had three hundred dollars and were having more shoved at them.
"Okay, Croc!" yelled Joker over the din. "Rip off the door."
Killer Croc shook his head and said "Crocodiles have kicking power equivalent to that of a meteorite," then kicked one of the shutters through the window and out into the street. As the trio ran off into the rainy night Scarecrow turned half way through the new exit and said, "Have a frightfully good evening," and threw a hallucinogenic smoke bomb.
From then on Trent's night began to get quite unpleasant.
"The screams echo through the night. The flames of anger light the darkness. The city rages. The rain tells the abyss that the crash analyses indicates that the orange hummer was the perpetrator. And the wind whispers sweet nothing about how the vehicle is registered to Bane. The trail of fear and loathing in lost Gotham continues and the fragile innocents are cast by the way side."
An officer stopped by Robin as he was bustling about. "Robin, do you think you could-"
"The night detects the presence of the infections festering her wounds. Joker, Riddler, Bane and, this DNA swab off this soda can informs us, Killer Croc were here. There may be more who are filling the sanctity of the shadows with their diseased pus ridden forms. But fear not, I will sacrifice myself by diving into the raging bile and burning out the oozing excrement. You may rest easy."
Robin then shot off his Robin's-gun-that-shoots-a-hook-to-get-up-onto-buildings-with and then climbed up onto a building.
"-help with the wounded?" finished the officer. He sighed and muttered to himself, "That kid is really messed in the head." The officer then hurried off to continue helping find wounded and, unfortunately, pull dead bodies out of burnt out buildings.
Jane sat nearby wrapped in a blanket, not moving after the authorities had pried her children out of her arms. Jane stood up and slowly walked down the rainy street amidst the wreaked cars and pieces of citizen.
"Well," said Kidney-Slicer doing a little dance, "all we've got left is that bitch Azil and we can go back to the pub."
The stone giant didn't pose much of a threat to the well trained group. They all had run this instance before and were well aware of the their individual jobs. Patience finished healing the party and checked her auxiliary stats program.
"It looks like we're still even on points. Whoever scores more points in the final encounter gets their drinks free," she chuckled.
"Then I better get in there and kill her first to break up your party," quipped Fool's-Gravel, the goblin hunter, as she ran off in the direction of the dungeon's end.
"Hey, wait up!" cried Kidney-Slicer. The rest of the party ran after their hunter.
In the final encounter room they caught up to Fool's-Gravel and saw why she'd stopped. In the centre of the room Azil was already dead. Standing near her was a strange figure, strange even in terms of WoW.
"BatmanTM?" said Patience Bloodhorn, stunned and angry.
"Oracle, I thought you said this was a hard game of strategies and team building," said the BatmanTM sprite. "It didn't even stand up to one of my BatzookaTM's."
"Did you just steal our kill?" asked Kidney-Slicer, exasperated.
"How did someone dressed up like BatmanTM get into our instance?" Fool's-gravel also asked.
"Because it is BatmanTM." replied Bloodhorn, "You've just hacked you're way into a world of trouble. Okay Birds of Prey, formation Q. Let's get this bastard."
After a few minutes all the players in the instance were banned because of hack detection. In Gotham Central's 'Andy's Pizzerette: all-night Pizza & Laundry' BatmanTM closed his BattopTM computer and continued to eat his Gothica pizza, which was just a vegetarian but with extra mushrooms. A group of people walked into the pizzerette and to BatmanTM's delight he recognised them.
"Are you sure you're alright, Bane?" asked Scarecrow, giving himself another shot of medical heroin. "Don't need a pep-me-up?"
"Don't you dare stick anything else in me or cram another thing down my throat," growled a groggy Bane hanging onto the shoulder of Killer Croc.
"Come on, I'm starving. Can we get something to eat already?" said Killer Croc over the other two.
"Yes, that's right. We're finally here, we may as well order before something else happens," said Joker pushing to the front of the line. After one look at Killer Croc the disgruntled customers backed off. "Hi, I'd like a family sized Aquaman with avocado."
"Yeah, I'd like the Poison Ivy special with extra poison and a bottle of tequila," ordered Scarecrow.
"I'll have an extra large Big Cheese and a chocolate milk," said Bane, and then slumped off to a table.
"And I'll have twelve extra large all-meats and a diet soda," said Killer Croc.
"Do you want them past their used by date?" asked Joker.
"What? No!" replied Killer Croc, "Why would I want it like that?"
"You know, cause crocodiles like their meat rotten," explained Scarecrow with a chuckle.
"Yeah, I know. But I'm not a crocodile. I like my food fresh," replied Killer Croc.
"I've seen you eat a man's leg off," interjected Joker.
"Have you never heard of sashimi?" asked BatmanTM, who was hanging upside down from the ceiling.
"Oh, what are you doing here?" asked Joker glaring at the BatTM.
"Just grabbing some breakfast." replied BatmanTM. "I was wondering, what do you think is the broodiest food?"
"Oh, definitely Super Hawaiian pizza," said Scarecrow sagely. "It's just so happy it's five seconds away from slitting it's wrists."
"Ooh, I like that. I'm gonna get one," said BatmanTM, and he clumsily got down, kicking a small child in the head, to place an order.
"The night has at last caught up to the foul excrement dispelled by the day!"
The entire pizzerette, except Bane, turned to the direction of the shout. Robin stood in the doorway, rain streaming off him and pooling on the already wet welcome mat. His mascara was running.
"Robin, what are you doing?" asked BatmanTM, taking his pizza back to his BattopTM.
"The night seeks vengeance and will apprehend these miscreants." Robin traipsed water across the floor as he walked up to Joker and then got on his tippy toes to eyeball him.
"Robin, leave them. After they're done eating they'll go back to Arkham. You do know it's the second Friday of the month, right?" explained BatmanTM.
"So?" asked Robin, breaking monologue.
"It's pizza night," said Joker. "We do this every month. Then we go quietly back to our cells. In Arkham."
"This is insane," spat Robin defiantly
"Obviously," commented Scarecrow, "that's way we're in Arkham."
"You know you're a little proactive," said Joker with a snicker. "Why don't you go work off some of that teenage vigour you've pent up on that Starfire chick. She's pretty feisty."
"Nah, she's Nightwing's girl. Superboy is more his speed," stated Killer Croc.
"What?" exclaimed both Robin and Joker simultaneously.
"What the fuck would you know!" yelled Robin and he ran back out into the rain-slicked night. Robin knocked a cloaked figure to the ground as he exited the Pizzerette, shouting "Fuck off!"
"Croc?" asked Joker. "How did you know that?"
"Oh, I frequent certain forums on the interwebs," explained Killer Croc.
"Sorry about that," said BatmanTM going over to Joker to apologise for his partner.
"That's alright," said Scarecrow. "He just young."
At that moment the wet cloaked figure from outside came through the door screaming and threw off the blanket to off load a whole revolver into Joker and the group. BatmanTM leapt at the crazed woman soaked in rain, blood and burns. He disarmed her of her useless weapon and drove her into the ground knocking her unconscious.
Killer Croc caught one bullet in his arm which he picked out and flicked to the floor. "Can I have a napkin, please?" he asked the staff. The man behind the counter had caught a bullet to the chest and was quickly losing blood which was pooling in his lungs. Scarecrow had escaped by hiding behind BatmanTM, but Joker was lying on the floor with a bullet to the head and one to the chest.
"Well, I'd better clean up the streets by getting this filth to the authorities," said BatmanTM, and dragged the unconscious women back out into the night. By then, other people were screaming.
One person made the fatal mistake of saying "Is there a Doctor in the house?"
"Call an ambulance!" shouted another.
"Don't worry," Scarecrow said gleefully. "I'm a Doctor and I've brought my own ambulance!" He dragged the corpse of Joker out of the Pizzerette and into the ambulance. Killer Croc grabbed the pizzas off one of the staff members who was oblivious the whole ordeal, and Bane staggered out after him.
The next morning Joker woke up with a splitting headache.
"Oh, is diddums awake?" asked the voice of Harley Quinn. The rest of her was sitting in an infirmary chair next to his bed.
"What happened?" he asked her.
"The same thing that always happens when you go on a boys' night out. You were shot. Oh, and Bane says you own him a car."
Back in the asylum's car park, a guard is trying to open a silent green panel van.
"Okay, I've got the bonnet up. Now what?" the officer asked himself while he looked in the engine bay for the next clue.
"Oh hey, Dave, look what I found," said his partner, walking up with a crowbar.
"Ooh, I think this maths equation etched in here next to a question mark will tell me which wires to connect," thought Dave out loud. The smashing of glass drew Dave's attention. "Mike, what the fuck! That's cheating."
"I think I found a rather simple solution to a far too complex problem," replied Mike. He then reached through the broken window to try and open the door. It seemed jammed shut.
"Rids me sis: waht?" asked a groggy Riddler from the driver's seat.
"We couldn't solve your ingenious puzzle, sir," said Dave as if talking to a child. "It was impossible. Well done." Riddler seemed pleased by this and went back to sleep.
"Stop humouring him, Dave, and help me with this," demanded Mike coming back to the car with a large portable cold saw. After fifteen minutes they managed to cut through the lock and the hinges, but the door still wouldn't come off. "Fuck it!" yelled a tired and frustrated Mike and he kicked the door. To his surprise and delight both the glove box and the driver's side door popped open. "Right. Let's get this guy back to his cell. I'm hungry and was meant to be on a break ten minutes ago."
They dragged Riddler out of his panel van and into a wheel chair. Mike then began wheeling him off. Dave, on the other hand, had noticed an envelope which had fallen out of the glove box. It was addressed to BatmanTM and read:
To Bat-brain TM
I bet you a dollar you'll never read this.
The smartest man in the world, Riddler.
And at the bottom was penned:
To Rid-dork
You owe me a dollar.
Actually the smartest man in all history x2, BatmanTM