Issue 13:
One Size Fits All
Twenty uneventful hours passed since Jervis awoke in his comfortable cell alone and scared. Dead men still lay outside the locked door and his friend and caretaker Dr. Jonathon Crane was nowhere to be seen. A night passed slowly as Jervis watched the crescent moon trolling through the clear sky. The rising sun brought no rescue and promised nothing but a day's worth of light. As he paced the room he stared at the bed in the corner. He was growing very thirsty. Unlike some other costumed criminals Jervis Tetch known as Mad Hatter was a true Gotham native. Everyone referred to his mother as a pro despite her terrible drug addiction. He never knew his father as she followed any man that waved a baggie of powder in front of her face. Eventually one of these men stabbed her to death and Jervis entered the foster system at the age of five.
A family with three other foster children brought him home to a different kind of nightmare. The husband drove long haul trucks and the wife sold makeup for one of those pyramid schemes. Kids in the system were just another source of income for them. Sometimes the man would read stories to them at night when he was home. Jervis had a particular fondness for Alice in Wonderland because the story centered on another person who was all alone. Uneasily he remembered the pictures of the caterpillar, Cheshire cat, and the tea party. From the hallway outside his room he heard a voice singing in falsetto as it closed on his room.
Into the mercy seat I climb
My head is shaved, my head is wired
And like a moth that tries
to enter the bright eye
So I go shuffling out of life
Just to hide in death awhile
And anyway I never lied
My kill hand is called evil
wears a wedding band of good
Tis a long suffering shackle
collaring all the devil blood
Jervis got a strange feeling and though desperate for rescue made no call for help. As the singing stopped he dared a peek through the glass window within the door to see a little girl no more than ten. She wore a blue dress with a white ribbon tying her hair back. To his horror she gazed up through the inset directly into his eyes. Jervis fell off the footstool he stood on but quickly scrambled against the door and put his back to it.
"Nooooo," he moaned quietly.
"Jervis, I've come to rescue you. It's Alice," the gentle voice whispered. He shook his bare head back and forth.
"No, you can't be here! You're a delusion and this is the real world. I beat them so you can't exist. I-I was better."
"Better is a subjective state, darling. Whether I'm here or not you need my help," the caring voice continued, "Open the door and let us continue our journey together. The ship is fueled up just outside and ready for takeoff." He heard the lock flip open and the handle turned shaking ferociously.
"I won't go back! What are you? You can't be Alice," Jervis whined.
"I'm your phantom limb though you were born whole and I aaaaache. Oh how I ache Jervis, open the door and console me," the girl begged.
"No I don't want to. Go away!" The door shuddered under the weight of a heavy blow. Now multiple octaves lower the voice on the other side exploded through the silence.
"CONSOLE ME!" it screamed and whatever was outside pounded again and again. The heavy wooden door jumped and opened a crack until his weight slammed it back closed.
"LET ME IN COWARD! I'll make you read it! Do you hear me? I'll make you look at the pictures!" it promised. After some time the banging stopped and another hour passed before Jervis mustered up the courage to try the handle. It was locked.
Later that afternoon Jervis paced the room continuing to stare at his single bed in the corner. Finally when he couldn't take it anymore he attacked it. Pillows flew across the room as he ripped sheets off in a frantic fury. He saw it in there somewhere slipped into the bedframe. Propping the mattress against the wall Jervis drug the metal frame to the center of the room. One of the corners was crooked at just under a ninety degree angle. Something so familiar about it called to him. When he reached up to adjust a hat that wasn't there it came to him. The angle was a perfect resonator. He leaned over it and hummed a B flat. The note caused the metal to react and it hummed a B sharp in return. Elated he slipped his head cheek to the ground under the joint and whistled a merry tune while his angle rang back a reversed harmony. Jervis made up words to his own original song called "Me and My Angle". After he got stuck rhyming the word "application" another idea struck him and he realized he needed to write it down.
Desperately Jervis dug through every piece of furniture in his room only to come up empty handed. Not even a crayon could be found in his small room. Dammit Jon, what was I going to do? Puncture my spacesuit? He thought but stopped himself. Jon did more for him than anyone else ever had. Jervis knew he owed him a massive debt. He deserved a rescue or at the very least some payback on whoever did this to him and his practice. Only Jervis needed a rescue of his own before any of that could happen. As though cued by the thought another voice carried down the hall, two voices in fact, and they conversed as they approached.
"This looks bad, boss," the lighter, softer voice said.
"Shut up, stupid. These guys were hit hard," the lower, gruffer voice replied, "Let's see if there's anything for the taking."
"Boss, what about your treatments? You know it always helps your stress talking it out with Dr. Crane."
"There's other ways of relieving my stress. Don't you worry about that. Now keep your voice down, moron. There may be guards or traps left over." At first Jervis felt scared of the voices until he realized they weren't some other incarnation of Alice. Then he stood back up on his stool to see who was coming. To his delight he saw a white haired man stepping over the bodies while carrying a wooden puppet carved into the shape of a nineteen twenty's gangster. The doll wore a white suit and hat bearing a long scar down the side of his face.
The man wore circle rimmed glasses and a thin tweed coat over a half tucked in, white collared shirt that was buttoned wrong. Slacks and dusty loafers completed the ensemble. Jervis knew the old man as Arnold Wesker and his puppet went by the moniker Scarface. Together the pair led a powerful crime family in Gotham. Way back when before the new wing was built on Arkham Asylum Jervis shared a cell with the pair. One night after lights out Arnold told him the story of how the two met.
"There I was a young, impressionable youth thrown into Blackgate Prison to rot after a simple misunderstanding at a bar. I shared a cell with a man named Donnegan who was a wood carver with a penchant for stuffed animals. He was arrested in a Gotham toy store two weeks before Christmas. Donnegan worked in the shop and in his free time carved a puppet he called Woody." On the bunk next to him Scarface growled and looked away.
"He squirreled away some wood cut from the old hanging tree in the yard that the state said Blackgate couldn't use anymore. When they cut it down Donnegan took a block for himself to make Woody. The guards thought Woody was funny so they let Donnegan keep him in our cell. However Donnegan didn't treat Woody well at all, and I didn't think very much of that. I asked him on multiple occasions to treat our mutual friend better but he ignored or flat out refused me. One night Donnegan snuck a knife back to our cell and accused me of staring at Woody.
I told him there was some mistake, that we could all get along but he wouldn't listen. Viciously Donnegan attacked me and it was all I could do to avoid a blade in the stomach. Just when I thought all was lost Woody dove onto his back. They wrestled for the knife as I screamed for the guards. In the end Donnegan's wounds proved fatal and this one suffered a long notch down the side of his face. Woody spoke to me and renamed himself Scarface. I helped him change his style and we've been inseparable ever since…mostly." Jervis thought it was a great story. Arnold then excused himself a few feet across the cell to use the toilet. Scarface remained propped against the wall on the bunk with Jervis.
"Hey kid," Scarface called softly as he sat mouth agape and unblinking black eyes fixed on Jervis, "Wanna hear the real story?" Nervously Jervis glanced over at Arnold who pretended not to notice as he brushed his teeth and gargled.
"Uh okay," Jervis agreed.
"Ya see Donnegan wasn't the only guy who worked in the shop. When they found his body the face was so cut up the coroner couldn't get a positive ID on the guy. Cops tried the fingerprints only to find his fingers were flushed down the toilet. In the end they had to use dental records to confirm it. That night I never did nothing really except offer Arnold a choice. I told him if he took me we would become something special that Gotham had never seen, and I did that because unlike all the others Arnold saw that potential inside of me. He saw what I really was," the puppet explained.
"And wh-what are you?" Jervis whispered. Scarface's head slid onto his left shoulder as he continued that dead stare into Jervis' eyes. His mouth still hung open but he said nothing. Jervis didn't sleep well at all that night. However over time he found Arnold and Scarface proved fast friends as long as Jervis extended the proper, polite courtesies. Arnold was a gentle but fragile soul and Scarface was a puppet who demanded respect. Most of the world didn't know all that and just referred to them as the Ventriloquist. Unfortunately life was too broad and too short to hear everyone's story Jervis knew. Now by chance they crossed in front his current cell door presumably on their way to Jon's office.
"Arnold, Scarface!" he called banging on the door. Both man and puppet's jaws dropped and Scarface wheeled his direction aiming his tommy gun at the door firing in surprise. Luckily Jervis dove from the stool just in time as a hail of bullets tore through the wooden door.
"Stop, stop, it's me! It's Jervis! Mad Hatter!" he yelled through the door.
"Jervis?" he heard Scarface snarl, "That twitchy, bucktoothed kid?"
"Yes Mr. Scarface, that's me!" Jervis yelled in reply slightly annoyed, "Arnold, I'm trapped. Can you unlock the door?"
"Sure Jervis," Arnold agreed and together they managed to wrestle the mangled door open.
"So what's shakin' kid?" Scarface asked once they finally stood face to face.
"Thank you so much, sir. I was locked in and I'm afraid something bad happened to Jon. It's lucky you two happened by."
"Last we heard you were having some troubles or-" Arnold fumbled with his glasses and words, "indisposed that is."
"Oh well I was but I'm doing better now, thank you," Jervis explained.
"We're going to check on the rest of the place. You should come home with us after. We have plenty of room. Can he, Mr. Scarface?" Arnold begged like a child.
"Oh no, I wouldn't want to impose. I'm sure I'll find a place," Jervis said.
"Nah kid, the idiot's right. In times like this we gotta stick together," Scarface decreed. Jervis thanked them many times for the hospitality.
"Oh just one more thing," Jervis added flipping the bedframe on its side, "We have to take this with us." As he began dragging it through the door Scarface looked up at his dummy and spoke in disbelief.
"This kid is crazier than you are."
Two hours after the city bus denied them a ride Jervis maneuvered the awkward bedframe up the stoop outside Arnold's apartment. Jervis paused when he saw their place sat adjacent to a large building called Aunt Harriet's Home for Wayward Youth. Technically he wasn't allowed within 1,000 feet of a school since the original tea party incident so many years ago but he was too embarrassed to mention it. With Arnold's help Jervis wiggled the bedframe into the ancient elevator that led up to the apartment. The rusty old crate shook and groaned as they rode to a floor above the now defunct Ventriloquist Club.
The club was an old Gotham hotspot that used to host big bands and illegal, no limit poker games in the back. Their apartment consisted of one main room approximately 1,400 square feet with two small rooms in a corner partitioned off by half sized doors. A man of average height like Arnold needed to squat to enter them. In that corner a large rug spread beneath a couch, a TV, and a single end table. A small countertop with a sink and cabinets sat next to a small refrigerator against the wall. The first small side room was a bathroom, but the one closest to the wall was Mr. Scarface's bedroom. Jervis also noticed a half desk next to the kitchenette with a chair and desktop computer. Besides their quaint corner the rest of the apartment was empty save for the support poles.
"I got some extra blankets for you," Arnold said exiting Scarface's room, "I wish we had another couch for you."
"This is more than enough," Jervis stated thanking him.
"Hey moron!" Scarface yelled from the bedroom, "I need you to run down to the cabaret and pick up Petunia once her gig is up. It's our date night."
"Of course, sir. Right away," Arnold replied.
"Take da kid with you. He's gotta pitch in if he's going to stay under my roof." So Jervis and Arnold took the bus down to pick up the boss's girlfriend.
"So how have things been going for you two?" Jervis asked as they bumped along the streets.
"Not bad," Arnold answered, "Business is in something of a slump, but Mr. Scarface let me get a computer and I've been learning to program. He's convinced we can use it to run some kind of digital scam."
"That's great! What have you been working on?"
"Oh just some simple game animations like flying birds or cartoon plants, stuff like that. I even started bringing in a little money so the boss is pretty happy with it. It's been tough lately with the city in its current condition," Arnold looked reticently at Jervis, "Do you know what's been going on?" Jervis had to admit he didn't so Arnold explained the last month and a half to him. He began with Batman's disappearance and the explosion of crime thereafter. Then he discussed SECURE and their federally mandated takeover after a declared state of emergency. He told Jervis of the Gotham Militia's meeting in Penguin's warehouse and Joker dressed as Batman. Finally he stopped and Jervis sat quietly for a moment.
"Are these the people who took Jon?" he asked.
"I'm confident they are," Arnold answered. After exiting the bus they walked another block down to Fun on Strings, a playhouse specializing in marionettes and other forms of puppetry. As people flowed from the building laughing and smiling they slipped down the alley to a stage door. Arnold knocked three times and they were let in by a hulking mass of a man named Rhino, Scarface's gang leader.
"Where's Moose?" Arnold asked the behemoth, "I thought it was her shift tonight."
"It was but that scrawny mailman always come around after her finally asked her out. They're goin' to laser tag," Rhino explained.
"You're a good brother," Arnold affirmed patting his monstrous bicep, "And how is the drama queen tonight?"
"Madame Petunia is out of her mind angry as usual. Yelling and kicking up a fuss cause uh the powder. Good luck with her," Rhino said with a sigh.
"Boss says you can head home for the night," Arnold told him as they moved off towards the dressing rooms. The screams trailed down the hall to them as they approached.
"How do they expect me to work without supplies?" a shrill feminine voice shouted and glass broke behind a door. That door had a star mounted on it that read Ms. Petunia Ferringhouse. Arnold asked Jervis to stay outside while he gathered the star. As soon as he stepped in Petunia aimed her verbal assault towards Arnold. Jervis heard it all through the door.
"Well it's about time, you decrepit weasel," Petunia yelled, "I'm trying to get ready for Scarface and my dance medicine is gone!"
"I'm sorry, Ms. Ferringhouse. Mr. Scarface didn't let me bring any for you. He said you can wait until you get back to his place," Arnold apologized.
"Here's what I think about that! HIIIIIIIIYAAAAAAH!" There was a loud crash of furniture breaking and silence for a few seconds until he heard Arnold groaning. After a lot more yelling they eventually emerged with Arnold carrying a puppet around the same size as Scarface. She too was made of wood but colored pink. With heavy makeup painted on Petunia was the perfect image of a very feminine pig. In a light green, strapless dress she also wore a matching beret over her blonde dyed hair and a pair of pumps. Like Mary Tyler Moore, Jervis thought. The sow also wore sparkling jewelry around her neck and on her wrist, ears, and fingers.
"Who are you, twerp?" Petunia rudely demanded staring at Jervis suspiciously.
"Oh hello, ma'am," Jervis said reaching for his absent hat and instead bowed gracefully, "My name is Jervis Tetch and Mr. Scarface hired me as a second bodyguard for you. He specifically said an asset as valuable as yourself should have more than one person to escort her. Also I happen to be a huge fan of your extensive career." Too often mental illness is equated with a lack of intelligence, but similar to the examples of so many others Jervis proved this wasn't the case. He wasn't about to risk getting karate chopped.
"Why thank you so much!" she squealed in excitement. The trio navigated back to the apartment where they found a package on the doorstep. It was addressed to Jervis so he read the attached letter aloud.
"Dear [villain's name here],
Enclosed is a fully functioning replica of [your weapon here]. It has been provided for you on speculation of repayment for production cost plus a modest 5% interest rate to be paid on first future successful job. If this package is opened or tampered with in any way it will be considered an acceptance on the above stated contractual obligations. Welcome to Gotham's Militia! We appreciate your service and continue to fight for the return of the crime infested city that we know and love. Please be on the lookout as you will soon receive mission parameters on your specific duties.
With regards and upmost care,
Calculator."
Jervis tore the packaging open to find a box. When he opened the top he removed a forest green top hat of fine velvet. It fit perfectly and as the hardware inside lit up he felt his mind expand and stretch. He felt Arnold next to him but knew better than to reach out to Petunia or Scarface in the next room. Mentally he switched it off and smiled up at Arnold.
"Like old times?" Arnold asked.
"Oh, I hope not," Jervis replied, "I'm quite ready to try something new. In fact I think I have some work to do." They entered and sat through a raucous reunion of Scarface and his paramour. Through bouts of yelling intermixed with loud sighs of love the pair went back and forth as Jervis sketched designs on scratch paper next to the TV and Arnold worked on his computer. That night Jervis fell asleep sitting up right against the wall with his new hat still upon his head.
In his dream he awoke in the same place he'd fallen asleep. Unsure if he was dreaming at all Jervis gathered his blankets and curled up on the rug like a trusty dog. Satisfied he rolled on his side only to feel someone slide up against his back and spoon with him.
"Jervis, you forget yourself," Alice whispered in his ear as he tensed up, "You forget me." Before he could react she touched the tip of her finger to his temple and he felt the hat buzz to life.
"Let's explore our surroundings," she continued and Jervis felt his mind stretching unbidden. He felt the young minds next door in Aunt Harriet's center for the wayward. The first mind that loomed large was Aunt Harriet herself a large, typically sweet natured black woman who acted as an informant for Batman and Robin many years ago. Once upon a time she knew the criminal underworld better than even Oswald Cobblepot. When she retired Harriet opened a home for youth who didn't have one or ran into trouble with the law. Everyone knew Aunt Harriet whether they came to her for advice or a simple bowl of hot stew and freshly baked bread when down on their luck. The center itself survived mainly by contributions from Wayne Enterprises.
Pushed further Jervis felt the minds of the unwanted teens tucked snugly into their beds. Some were violent and many were angry. Most were sad and lonely desperate for any contact in life that could help them make sense of it all. Their lithe, supple bodies twisting between white sheets left Jervis confused and revolted at his own thoughts. He still felt Alice pressed against his back as her soft hands swirled over his chest.
"They're so bad, Jervis. We should punish them harshly," she cooed in his ear, "Read them the book. Make them look at the pictures." Suddenly he lay on the small bed from his childhood in the dim moonlight. His foster father stumbled in reeking of alcohol. He opened the book and young Jervis looked at the pictures while things that should never happen to anyone happened to him. A caterpillar sending out smoke rings, a white rabbit checking his pocket watch, the silhouette of a cat's grin, a sleepy mouse, a manic tea party, and playing card guards standing at attention in a line that went on forever and ever. A hand covered his mouth and hadn't let go in the following twenty eight years.
An average person would go one of two ways when it came to Jervis. One is that he's a sick monster who is the lowest of the low due to his unnatural attraction to children. The other is that he's a damaged human being with an illness that needs treated. There's not a lot left to be said that could change that person's mind Jervis knew. Unfortunately either side, either opinion made no difference to his illness or monster. Savagely it fed off that false dichotomy. That average person would be shocked by the true number of affected children due to a climate of silence around it.
Children are the closest thing to God or purity of spirit in this world, and those hurt would grow up to be someone behind that average person in line at the grocery store or someone they worked alongside of for years. Jervis knew that person couldn't look away or the problem slid right back into the shadows. If he could have asked Alice who she was at that moment she would explain that she was the helpless turn. She was the embarrassed indifference that profited on shattered souls. She carries far too many names in her storybook and more likely than not that average person lived in there too.
"Wake up, Jervis," Alice whispered again in his ear, "Your visitors are here." Jervis's eyes snapped open and he saw Arnold sitting up on the couch hooking his glasses around his ears. Next to the bathroom he saw Robin and a skinny, pale Batman standing and staring.
"How did you get in here?" Arnold asked slightly alarmed. Nonchalantly Batman pointed over his shoulder.
"We climbed up our grappling ropes and slipped in through the bathroom window," Batman explained. Robin elbowed him in the side.
"No you idiot. Don't tell them how we did it. Say something mysterious and threatening instead," Robin instructed.
"Oh okay. Ask me again," Batman demanded. Arnold and Jervis looked at each other in confusion.
"Just do it," Robin agreed with his hand over his head.
"How did you get in here?" they both repeated. Batman scowled and replied in the deepest, roughest voice he could manage.
"Don't worry about it," he said then looked at Robin smiling broadly who gave an embarrassed groan. The four of them sat and worked out Arnold and Scarface's joint mission with Lockup and Billy Ghost Gruff. Robin apologized that he brought no mission for Jervis since they mistakenly believed him to be MIA. Then the boy noticed the designs on the papers scattered on the floor.
"What's this?" he asked.
"See I found this bedframe and a perfect angle-" Jervis stopped himself and decided to take a more simplistic approach, "Actually it's a hat, a giant hat that could control all of Gotham. Maybe the world." Suspiciously Robin looked him over.
"How are you feeling, Jervis?"
"I'm doing okay I suppose. Arnold and Mr. Scarface have been very kind to me, Robin."
"That's good to hear. Listen, if we fund this…hat for you will you do something for me? I want you to work with Harley however much she says she needs you. Plus the obvious help with Gotham's Militia," Robin offered.
"Yes of course, anything you need," Jervis agreed shaking his hand gratefully. From the small bedroom another voice shouted.
"Hey moron! What's going on out there?" Scarface demanded. Arnold went to retrieve the master of the house. When he returned Scarface sent him back in to help Petunia clean up so Arnold could take her home. The four of them sat in silence as Robin fidgeted restlessly.
"What's the matter with you, kid?" Scarface asked. Robin looked angrily at Batman.
"Stop it now."
"Stop what?" Batman asked innocently.
"Making him talk. It's weird."
"He talks on his own. Everybody knows that. Are you scared of him?" Batman asked.
"I'm not scared of him," Robin claimed a little too enthusiastically, "It just creeps me out kind of."
"Hey dummy," Scarface called.
"Yeah?" Batman said looking over at him.
"Come pick me up and walk me around a bit. My joints get a little warped now and then. Not as green as I used to be, ya know?" Batman picked him up and walked him to the kitchen. Before Robin could complain again Jervis jumped up frantically waving his arms.
"There's men outside! SECURE troops coming up the stairs. They'll be coming in very soon. What should we do Batman?" Jervis pleaded.
"This is it," Batman nodded definitively, "the final battle."
"This isn't the final battle!" Robin exclaimed, "We've got to come up with a plan quick." Before he could think about it Jervis noticed Batman with his back to them facing the kitchenette. Suddenly Batman cried out in terror.
"Oh my God, he's got a gun!" Wildly Batman spun around with a bewildered look on his face carrying an angry Scarface who in turn carried his miniature Tommy gun.
"Get down!" Jervis screamed pulling Robin out of the way. Scarface screamed and fired.
"Get the hell outta my house!" he yelled uselessly blasting around the empty apartment. Outside the troops paused at the door until the gunshots trailed off and everything went quiet for a few moments. Eventually one gave a hand signal to the squad and the door was breached. SECURE stormed the room in their typical white body armor and bright lights attached to their combat shotguns. Quickly the swept through the cavernous apartment and cleared the two small rooms.
"Looks like they bugged out somehow, Commander," one soldier began, "Bathroom window's open and there's some rope."
"What about the ground team?" the commander asked.
"They're holding position but if they did go out that way we didn't see them."
"Hmm, have the Moody Sisters called in to do a sweep over a square mile. See if they can scare them up," the commander ordered. He stood for another few moments staring Robin straight in the face who stood in plain sight against the wall with the other three fugitives. Batman held a gloved hand over Scarface's mouth. Then the leader ordered his troops out and they were safe.
"That was amazing!" Batman exclaimed when Jervis assured them all was clear.
"Oh that was nothing. If I really wanted to do something I could make you believe you were an insurance agent from Duluth with a bitter wife and four kids that weren't yours," Jervis imagined, "Wouldn't that be hilarious?" Batman said nothing only frowned, but the frown itself was emotionless and unreadable. Suddenly Jervis didn't feel so bold anymore. After exchanging goodbyes the mismatched pair left the same way they came. Jervis could hear them arguing as they repelled down the building.
"I know it was you making the puppet talk and shoot. Why do you have to do crap like that?"
"How dare you accuse Batman of doing something so dishonest? I swear it wasn't me."
The very next day construction began on the World Hat as Robin dubbed it. Gotham's Militia set up multiple projects in Penguin's warehouse where the meeting was held. In the far corner Jervis organized his necessary tech and hardware neatly when the woman called Magpie delivered his shipments. Other scientists, doctors, and professors milled around discussing theories and inventions like a Cold War black science fair. No one spoke much to Jervis except for the old man Dr. Death who stopped to comment on the aesthetic style of the giant metal top hat.
Drawing from past experience and his perfect angle Jervis crafted the World Hat as a massive resonator to extend the reach of his mind control waves across the entire city. Over a mile away in a roost on the Gotham News Network building sat a bored and underappreciated Deadshot covering their research base through the scope of his Cheytac M200. At night he was relieved by the quiet but deadly Firefly. Cluemaster donated a shield screen that masked any strange electrical or radioactive wavelengths detectable by SECURE forces.
When the World Hat was over halfway to completion Jervis took a break one day and lazily strolled through the aisles of the cluttered warehouse. Everywhere he looked he spied some of the most dangerous inventions ever created gathered together like a flea market sponsored by Phillip K. Dick. He saw handheld guns and other weapons such as Toastmasters, cold beams of varying specs, energy lances, flame bazookas, and the crème de la crème a fully functioning Omnicannon. A woman he didn't recognize flaunted a knock off Mobius Chair. A bushy browed man in a lab coat ran forecast possibilities on his Cloudburst. There were Responsometers, Mento helmets, Zeta Beam rays, and Rannian jet packs. At the end of a row someone hocked a discount Phantom Zone projector. Amidst the deadly inventions Jervis noticed new items he couldn't see any use for like cold fusion baby pacifiers and rainbow powered landscaping lasers. Apparently only one rule was agreed upon by the scientific community gathered here: no Apokoliptian technology.
"Excuse me sir?" a man wearing a tuxedo, black domino mask, and flowing cape called to Jervis through the bustling crowd, "Yes you sir. You look like a discerning and decisive gentleman. Allow me to display my invention for your consideration." Jervis approached the man who stood next to a blocky grey machine the size of a two person tent.
"Good afternoon. I'm Jervis Tetch, the Mad Hatter." Jervis shook his gloved hand politely, "I'm afraid I don't recognize you. I apologize."
"No apologies necessary, friend. Many people know me by many names. El Penitente, Mangrove Pierce, Barbatos, or my personal favorite The Hole in Things. However my friends simply call me Simon and my enemies call me Dr. Hurt," the man pitched, "I'm interested in plumbing the murky depths of the human mind, truly our final frontier. Because without a doubt we'll map every inch of the known universe before unwrapping the delicate twisted pathways inside our heads." Jervis tipped his hat to stare up into the cool, friendly eyes of the doctor.
"I believe we share a common field of study," Jervis relayed, "What is this invention you've created?"
"It's called a Transconsciousness Articulator. I appropriated the designs from an alien and repurposed it for my own uses. I'm very interested to try it on a human being besides myself. Be assured it's completely safe," Dr. Hurt explained.
"And what does it do?" Jervis asked.
"It helps the subject make an important decision or discover a truth that eludes them. These procedures take place on a subconscious level where it will be most effective for the user. Can I interest you in a quick session in the name of experimental science?" Jervis agreed to the doctor's pitch and climbed in the machine. Sitting in the solitary chair he watched the door swing shut in front of him. Then everything went dark. Outside the machine lit up and flashed for a few moments before steam exhausted into the air above it. Finally it opened automatically and Jervis stepped out blinking against the light. Dr. Hurt was gone. He looked around but nothing seemed out of place. He felt no different than when he entered. Jervis shrugged, looked at the machine one more time, and continued his aimless walk.
Another week passed before the World Hat reached completion. Jervis hadn't seen much of Arnold and Scarface since they were busy with their own mission. His work with Harley at the bequest of Robin had gone very well, and she even insisted on cutting his hair before the activation of his new hat. All preliminary tests produced better results than he expected and everything was ready.
Yet something still bothered him as the late summer sun began to set over the city. Uneasiness tugged at his pant leg while he stared at the World Hat surrounded by the bustling of genius minds and devastating weapons. Earnestly he put that nagging fear to the side reminding himself it held no place in scientific discovery. Jervis climbed gingerly into the driver's seat setting his small green top hat on the steps. The headpiece attached to the inside of the World Hat fit perfectly over his head. Blissfully ignorant of the danger not only to himself but the entire world Jervis flipped the switch. Reality went out like it never existed.
At first he feared the device blinded him because he couldn't see the vast room before him. Then he remembered the darkness in the Transconsciousness Articulator and feared he somehow looped back in time trapped by the useless black. Then he remembered his time in the machine and realized he was caught in a web of his own making. No longer repressed the memory of Dr. Hurt's machine returned. Jervis stood in a cathedral massive, ancient, and empty. On a throne of broken toys and disfigured dolls sat Alice in all her glory. She wore a paper crown folded from the obituary section of a newspaper.
"We told you once. You are ours, Jervis," she said, "We told you that in space past the edge of the universe. Remember? You thought to use us, to bend us to your will. Instead you opened the door home and we slipped through on your coattails."
"You're not Alice at all if you ever really were. You're the Anti-Life Equation squatting in my head," he lamented, "What have I done?"
"Put simply you've damned the entire universe with the most destructive weapon known to humankind. Now you sit on a throne of your own with an entire city in the palm of your hand. Even better before you is a room of deranged men and weapons that could destroy the world. There's no way out now, no one to save you. Anything you try to do we can warp and desecrate. Your good intentions pave the way to Hell. Consider us the road construction crew. Your very action damns everything around you. Thinking you could trick us and use us? Well the joke's on you know. It's your move, little man."
The memory slowly faded and Jervis returned to reality still connected to the idling World Hat. Carefully he felt the countless minds across the city minding their own business and quietly living their own lives. Before him at the foot of the steps he saw Alice looking up and grinning. No one else seemed to notice her there. Jervis panicked at her words and believed her wholeheartedly. If he tried to destroy SECURE she would twist his actions like an evil djinn no doubt ruining everything. Anything he attempted that could have a negative outcome would. The only way to beat her would be to act in a way that couldn't have any negative consequences, but what could that be? Was that even possible?
"Quit now," Alice demanded from below, "or send the entirety of Gotham to despair…into our waiting arms. You'll never be happy or sane and neither will they. How can you save them when you can't even fix yourself?" Suddenly the answer became clear to Jervis from her own words. Everything had an opposite. He saw the path to the anti-Anti-Life Equation.
"You should have shut up while you were ahead," Jervis answered smiling. Despite her screams of protest he cycled up the World Hat and dove into the towering, poisonous mind of Gotham herself.
That night for the first time in her sordid history the city knew peace. People felt an unknown source of contentment. Children were fed and tucked into bed. For one night they feared nothing and were abused by no one. Men and women everywhere felt satisfaction of where they were and sure of the choices they made that brought them there. Whether filthy rich or flat busted broke they slept sound and undisturbed. Not a single crime was committed. Not a single empty stomach ached for nourishment. Pain dissolved like the momentary phantom it was. Hate withered rotting unpicked on the vine and from it blossomed understanding. Love flooded the streets like a tsunami. Bliss draped over Gotham like soothing moonlight. Although Jervis couldn't save anyone including himself he gave the city he loved a much needed respite from its unending turmoil. Whether aware of their personal suffering or not, everyone had a really nice night.
The next morning a file appeared in Calculator's inbox that detailed the names and personal information of every SECURE agent in the city gleaned from satisfied minds that only knew fulfillment.