Crime Alley is by far the worst place in Gotham City: the slum of slums. Back in the city's early days, it had been full of glitz and glamor, if one can believe it. The rich partied the night away in the now rotting, abandoned halls. Now, flappers were replaced with prostitutes, the only glamor you'd see were in little baggies sold on street corners, and the only ones who wandered around were usually in a gang or high out of their minds. Every footstep, every bang from the rusty, industrial architecture puts the overweight, burly thug on edge as he wanders through an old warehouse. He's got his machine gun loaded, always resting in his hands, but it's not himself he's worried about, though he'll be dead if anything happens to his escort.
His impossibly tiny, filthy escort.
"I can smell an angel around here," the little girl in front of him whispers after sniffing the air like a dog. "Oh, it's nasty. Stay close."
Though she can't see his face due to the clown mask he's wearing, he's rolling his eyes. "I ain't going anywhere. If anything happens to you, I'm a dead man. Might as well check out before Mr. J gets a hold of me." He scowled down at her. "So, unfortunately, I'm stuck with you."
He's been in Blackgate and out of Arkham too many times to count, he can say he's seen most of this city's freaks, but when she turns her head and looks up at him, he gets chills. Her skin is grey, corpselike even without the white makeup Joker had lathered on her, but she looks even more ghoulish with it. Her eyes are sunken in, dark bags that make her yellow, glowing eyes more prominent. Worse of all, though, is the smile painted on the corners of her mouth.
"Daddy isn't nice," she says, her voice distorted. "He said he was going to give me a hug, but then he shocked me!" She huffed, and he remembered the events that only happened hours before. He was there. The kid should have been dead from the sheer volt of electricity running through her body, it killed one of his buddies a few seconds later, but she simply got up and blew the Joker a raspberry as he laughed maniacally.
His boss wasn't in this for the money, he had never been. These kids just gave him a goldmine of new material to mess with the Batman. Oh man, Penguin nearly had a heart attack. "Oi," he cried, cursing the clown out, "that moppet's me cash-cow! You kill her, you kill the damn slug! They don't grow on trees!" And Joker kept laughing and laughing, and laughing, which got old Cobblepot even more pissed.
The tiny girl eventually comes across a corpse near some crates, her eyes widening. It's fresh, maybe a few hours old at most, already in rigor mortis. Given the drug needles nearby, it's likely they overdosed. Overdoses here are common occurrences, no one loses sleep over them.
"There she is," the little brat whispers excitingly, beaming. "There's the angel."
"Then do what you have to do and hurry the hell up. I ain't got all night here."
She plopped down on her knees, her neon green stockings getting soaked in whatever body fluids had come out of the body, and gently placed her long syringe into a vein on the arm. She hummed happily as the container connected to the needle slowly began to turn a bright red. "Pretty angel," she cooed, brushing away some stringy, greasy hair from their face, "what are you doing out here all by your lonesome?"
Her bodyguard's on edge. For some reason, these kids harvesting always brought out the crazies. The addicts that were just too far gone. It's like they have a sixth sense or something that can sniff her out. This brat is worth her weight in gold. At this rate, she and the others Penguin and Joker are making will be the backbone of this city.
Two months ago, no one barely knew about ADAM: a new drug discovered by one of Cobblepot's boys to be the "fixes of all fixes" after he got bit by some slug. He had a limp from getting shot in the leg a few years back, but it was gone. Penguin saw dollar signs and boom! He was manufacturing this shit by the gallons. In a couple weeks, ADAM was the hit drug. Forget cocaine, heroin, or meth, the highs weren't comparable to shooting up even a little of ADAM. Everyone wanted it. Problem was that there wasn't enough for everybody. The slugs could only produce so much, and it wasn't enough for these junkies.
And then, all of a sudden, Joker stepped in with a solution: "get some brats and implant them with the things! These freaks will get their high, you'll get your money and me? Well, I always wanted to be a father!" Hey, nobody knew how he got that information, but every night for the past six months he'd spent a few hours in the basement of the steel mill. Area was off-limits except for Harley, but every time he'd come out, he'd be more knowledgeable about the slugs, the kids, and the drug. Wasn't too hard to get the brats; they're stupid, will fall for anything, and there are plenty of junkies willing to hand their kids over with the promise of a share in ADAM.
Shit started heading south a couple weeks ago. It had been great until then, getting a share of some major dough coming in by the loads, being treated like a goddamn king. Joker was pushing everyone to shoot up. The whole thing seemed funny, he couldn't put a finger on it, just wasn't like Mr. J. Then, a bunch of the guys got goofy: their faces got all funny, started losing their minds, rambling about how they needed more and more ADAM or they'd die, hallucinating. Joker thought it was great. He'd mess with, tell them that there was an extra baggie of the stuff in the courtyard and gleefully watched the madness unfold, like a Roman emperor at a gladiator fight. Even ate popcorn as his men ripped each other apart.
Everything came to a head when Cobblepot's man, the same one who originally discovered the slugs, was found in the nursery, gutting one of the girls up like a fish. Harley had been the one who walked in and found the aftermath. She hadn't been the same since; got all sentimental about the ankle biters. Who knew she was such a bleeding heart?
That's why he was here, in this warehouse, babysitting the little twerp while she sucked the ADAM out of this dead junkie. Cause, if Penguin's boy knew to get the slug, so would these other freaks. ADAM was running low even with the kids, but Joker got this idea of sending them out to harvest it off of bodies, recycle it. Didn't take long to condition them, Joker made sure they mostly lost their minds and had a blast doing it.
"You almost done?" He nudges her with the back of his gun after he notices some movement by the front door, hears the shuffling of feet. "Come on, hurry the fuck up!"
Her lower lip wobbled. "Why is everyone mean to me?" she sobbed. "I want to go home!"
He can hear a group of men talking amongst themselves outside, the banging of metal. She's going to get them caught. Shit! He grabs her, the syringe dropping to the ground with a thud. He puts a hand over her mouth. She lets out a muffled scream.
"Shut up," he hissed. "Shut the fuck up or I'll give you something to cry about!" She's kicking her little legs and waving her arms frantically. "Tell you what, be a good girl and I'll get you ice cream. How's that sound?"
The rare flash of normalcy stops as the little girl is put back into insanity. She stops fighting, a goofy grin on her face. "Ice cream?" she asked dreamily. "From the lands of the arctic curmudgeons?"
He paused. "Yeah, sure," he replied, putting her down. He had no idea what they were rambling about half the time. "We'll get it from whatever the hell you're talking about."
"It's where mean Penguin lives with his fellow penguin people."
Okay, that got a chuckle out of him. "When you're not annoying as shit, you're pretty funny." He put her down and she brushed the dirt off of her bright purple and green dress.
"Daddy says I'm funny, too!" She frowned. "But, it's usually after he hurts me." She's all smiles again. "He's got a funny sense of humor, but that's why they call him the funny man!" She picks up her syringe and guzzles up the glowing red liquid with the baby bottle nipple attached to the container. After she was done, she coughed and wiped her mouth. "I'm all full now!"
"Good, let's get out of here-"
The front doors burst open. The little girl screams and hides behind her protector's leg as the gang from outside swarm in. He raises his gun, points it directly at them, but they don't budge. "You got ten seconds to get the hell out of here before I blast all of you to fucking pieces."
"C-Come on, man," one of the junkies says, taking a shaky step closer. He can see the moonlight reflecting off the knife in his hands. His finger goes to the trigger. "We just want some ADAM."
"You can wait until the next batch is done," he replies. "We're working here."
"You don't understand!" another cried. "If we don't get ADAM now we'll die!"
"Bullshit!"
The head addict kneels down and extends a hand to the child, his smile is strained due to the deformation of his face. "Y-You know, didn't your mommy and daddy teach you to share, little girl."
"No, no, no, no, no!" She points at them and stares wide-eyed up at her bodyguard. "Bad men, bad men!"
"I warned you," he growled. "Back. the. fuck. off."
"You can't even spare some! Not even a little! Nobody has to know!"
One of the men suddenly rushes forward and before the Joker henchman can even react, tries to yank the syringe out of the girl's hand. She screeched, staggering forward, but kept a steady grip. This grown ass man was actually struggling against a four-year-old. Of course, it doesn't last for long before he's full of bullets. He collapses onto the concrete, his blood pooling out all over the floor. The little girl wails as it soaks her shoes, blood splatters on her face.
One of them attacking starts a chain reaction. The rest of them charge and are immediately ripped apart by bullets. A junkie in a blue hoodie is able to slash the kid's cheek. She'll live, but she's even more shaken. The sole survivor of the gang, the leader, has the common sense to run away, but he's shot in the head before he can reach the door. The bodyguard wasn't the one who fired the shot, though. He almost wants to breathe a sigh of relief, hoping it's backup until he sees who's standing at the entryway.
Red Hood. The one guy who's crazier than Batman.
Well, shit.
It's only a minute, but it feels like an hour, where they just stare at each other, never breaking eye contact. The brat cowers in the corner, sobbing and covering her ears due to the volume of the gunshots. Her cries are the only sound. Hood's optics in his mask narrow.
"Unless it's bring your kid to work day, she's not yours."
"Well, she's Joker's now," he says, trying to hide his anxiety. Unlike Batman and his merry band of idiots, Red Hood didn't take you to Arkham but the morgue. "Listen, you ain't going to kill me," he tries calling his bluff. "Not in front of the kid."
Hood's ready to pull the trigger until he sees the hyperventilating, hiccuping toddler. He softens, lowers his gun for a brief second. "You're right," he says before firing at the henchman's neck. "I'm not."
The girl let's out a blood-curdling scream as the thug staggers, clutching his neck before falling to her knees. Red Hood kneels down to the other man. "They're tranquilizer darts, asshole. You're not even worth a bullet." He gets the bird shoved into his face. Hood makes sure to break the guy's finger before the latter's down for the count.
After he's out, Hood stands up, turning his attention to the child. She's running to the crates, nearly trips over her own two feet as she frantically crawls into a space between two of the boxes. He's so close to grabbing her, he gets her arm, but lets go when she whips her head around to face him.
"Jesus Christ!"
"You know, it's been a while since we've had a chat, little lady. Your old Uncle J missed you ever so much."
There was nothing that brought more joy to Joker anymore than spending some much needed time down in the basement. He could only take so much of Harley's whining and any more she was becoming a complete bore. Where did his Harley go? The spark for mayhem and destruction they shared was gone now that their lovely, perfect couple dozen or so little girls popped into the picture. Damn, he finally compromises when it came to kids, and what does he get?
He eyed the teenage girl tied up to the rusted, metal chair. The only light in the room was the flickering bulb hanging over her head. Her dark brown hair was greasy and unwashed, her bangs were stuck to her face. The old, ripped dress he had put her in was now filthy and stained. She's wasting away, practically skin and bones.
"You're awfully quiet, what's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" He leaned forward, his bright green eyes meeting her baby blue's. "Or, maybe, it's dehydration."
She said nothing, only staring off into space.
Oh, she was a tough nut to crack, alright. He could get all the information he wanted out of her by torture, but no matter how hard he tried, she wouldn't snap. Any other brat her age would be leaving in a specially made straight jacket to Arkham. He didn't know whether to be impressed or annoyed.
"You know, I like you, kid," Joker began as he made his way over to the "tools" he kept on a tray nearby. "You got moxie." He grabbed a scalpel. "I think someday you'll be my right-hand woman. Harley's getting awfully dull." Her eyes widen and he laughs. "Oh, no, no, no, I never could think of you like that! What do I look like to you? A pervert?"
She furrows her brows, gives him a scowl.
"Aw, look at you, trying so hard to scare me! Like a puppy acting as a guard dog!" He lifts up the scalpel in his hand. "Of course, you know what happens to dogs when they snap at their masters?" He gives her a vindictive grin, getting so much satisfaction from watching her squirm. "They're disciplined."
She's trying to get out of her binds. He's kept her too drugged up and malnourished for her to fight back. He's been wanting to do this for months. "You know, when my men found that dinosaur washed up, I never expected you to pop out when we fired it up. Just thought it would make a nice decoration. Boy, am I glad you did, though." He brings the blade to her cheek, his smile growing wider when she hyperventilates. "Oh, you were so naive back then, weren't you? Didn't your mother ever teach you not to trust strangers?"
She spits at him.
"Now, that was rude," he began as he wiped his face with a handkerchief. "I open my home to you and this is how I'm treated? Teenagers, I tell you. Bend over backward for them and they're never happy." He grinned once more. "Don't worry, though, we'll take care of that! Your days of rebelling against me are over, young lady. After tonight, you'll be a fine, upstanding member of underworld society!"
She shook her head.
"All it takes is one bad day. Just one for you to go completely mad. Lose a job? Find your wife sleeping with your boss? It doesn't matter. Everyone has a breaking point." He slowly glides the scalpel up from the corner of her mouth to her cheekbone. Tears stream down, mixing with blood. "And I wonder what's yours?"
Even as she glares up at him with half a grin, he can tell he's getting close. "Just give into the madness, kid. I promise you'll feel so much better." He moves to the other cheek. "I'll get you all cleaned up, give you some food, and then you and I will be running this show! It's about time I got in on the plucky, kid sidekick trend. Everyone else has one!"
He repeats the incision on the other side of her cheek, giving her a complete Glasgow smile. Joker reaches and grabs a mirror, showing her reflection. She cried out in horror.
"There you go, just like your dear old dad!" He chuckled as her sobs echoed throughout the room. "Welcome to the freak show, kiddo!" He put a hand to his chin. "Now, what will I call you? Batman and Robin? Now that name works, but what goes with Joker? Joker and Prankster? No, when I think of pranksters I think of frat boys and tasering dead rats. Oh, I know! The Joker and Trickster!" His eyes narrowed. "Because you look like you have some tricks up your sleeve."
Her sobs turned into laughter. The girl's face became more unsettling from tears, sweat, and blood. "You know, you are pretty funny," she begins, her voice hoarse. His face lights up. "In a sad sort of way." Immediately, his smile dropped. "I've had the unfortunate pleasure of meeting a lot of rotten people, but you're the most pathetic of them all."
"Oh, really?" He leered over her. "Do tell."
"You always talk to me about this Batman character, you obsess over him. Every waking minute, you consume yourself, never stop thinking about him. How no matter how hard you try, he doesn't laugh at your jokes." She shrugged. "Why would he, though? Maybe it's not because he has no sense of humor, it's because you're a washed up failure. I mean, I only gave you a pity laugh. You're the least funny comedian in the world!"
He furiously slashed her face again. "Shut up!"
"What, you wanted me to tell you, and I did?" She chuckled through gritted teeth. The tides had turned, the roles were reversed, now she was grinning like a lunatic and he was ready to blow a gasket. "You know what's even sadder? How you have to drag other people into your games. A good comedian is able to come up with a joke without third parties. But here you are, killing innocent people, ruining hundreds of lives, all for laughs. No one in their right mind considers that funny, though, you're definitely not in the right state of mind. That's why no one laughs. You suck."
"I said shut up!" He cut her again on her nose. He kept slashing, couldn't stop.
"Keep doing it," she hissed. "Keep making me more of a freak than I already am! I don't give a damn! You can't break me! You can shove your monologues up your ass, I'm not losing my mind to the likes of you!" She snickered at just how mad the clown was getting. "I was born into madness, I've spent my life in madness! This? This is just another Tuesday for me. So, keep doing it, Keep mutilating me, keep starving me, keep killing and putting me into the Vita-Chamber. I don't give a damn. I can do this for the rest of my life. Question is, can you?"
He's ready to slash her throat, watch her choke on her own blood when the intercom comes on. "Puddin', we got a bit of a problem here! We lost a signal on one of the girls and we the bozo in charge of her is on his way to the police station. Idiot got himself caught by Red Hood! He's gonna spill the beans on the whole operation!"
The Clown Prince of Crime stops himself, slowly putting the scalpel back on the tray, his grin returning. "Oh, well, it seems that our time has been tragically cut short again, Ms. Lamb. Shame, we were having so much fun." He adjusted his suit. "Don't worry, though. I'll find what makes you tick- gets under your skin. You'll go mad eventually, I'll make sure of it."
"I'll eagerly be here waiting then," she replied coldly. "It's not as if I'm going anywhere."
"Good girl." He stroked his finger down her cut up cheek, watching her turn away in disgust. "You're an odd one, you know that? A dangerous one. The type with blood on your hands. I've bet you bashed in some heads or two before, haven't you?"
She scoffed. "What? Are you going to get your crazy girlfriend to psychoanalyze me?"
"No, where's the fun in that? You're like Pandora's Box. I just got to crack you open." He stared darkly at her before laughing. "Oh, you should see your face right now! Why so serious, sweetheart? I mean, sure, you look like a carnival sideshow, but I prefer it! The old you was so stale. You've turned a new leaf!" He began to make his way the rickety, unstable stairs, out of her view. "Well, to-da-loo, toots! See you next time! I have some fun games planned, it'll be a blast!"
And with that, the heavy doors shut, leaving the teenager alone in her thoughts and in the dark. No one could hear her whimpers and cry when her freshly cut wounds met musty dust-filled air. She had to get out of here, but if she could just buy some time, maybe the children would be able to be rescued first. She'd take being maimed and tortured knowing that they were safe for the time being. It didn't matter what happened to her.
Though, if she did ever get out of this alive, she was going to make sure the clown, his girlfriend, and the rest of the degenerates were going to regret the day they were born. She'd make sure to make an example out of them to this wretched city.
AU: I was asked to do a Batman version of my Marvel/Bioshock crossover and after replaying the Arkham games, I decided to give in. Surprisingly, Bioshock fits pretty damn well with a series as depressing as Batman. I got the title from the Daughtry song that's on the Arkham City album, which I think goes pretty well with the story and since Rapture is underwater yeah...
Also, as of now, Jason's back with the Batfamily and trying not to kill. He's not giving up his guns, though, and uses his tranquilizers. It's hard, he gets an A for effort.
This is good ending Eleanor, but honestly, she's killed a shit ton of people in Rapture and given how awful the Joker is, she'd have no problem killing him. The steel mill they're in is basically the Sionis Steel Mill from Arkham City.