A/N: There we go as I promised here is the first chapter to the sequel for TFFABG. Hopefully you guys enjoy this story as much as you did the last! Crises Project and myself have tried our whole best to write and edit up to your expectations! I hope we did and thanks for coming back for a second run!
Enjoy till yer belly bursts!
Wrath of the Gods
As the sun settled in the distance and the skies were painted with the colors of fire, he stared.
She stood barefoot in a small but pretty garden, surrounded by white roses, daisies and other flowers that were colorful which he did not recognise.
Her warm blue eyes sparkled against the contrast of the orange sky. It melted in with her pale soft skin as the breeze lightly brushed her blonde hair and white dress which rippled and whispered like the leaves of a willow tree. The world stood still and he stared.
He found himself compelled to move forwards, to touch, to smell and feel. To experience it all in one movement, one single movement that would define him.
The light died further, darkening and he stepped forwards.
She was as soft as she looked, she smelled of the white roses in her hand and his touch was cold against her... almost as brittle as ice... her hand could and would shatter if he pressed too tightly.
He felt the slight swell in her stomach, the soft hum of a tiny heart beating against his hand. He smiled and moved his hands up and settled them on her pale soft neck. He could see the sun setting in her blue eyes, watching him, staring through him, trying to decipher him without asking. He smiled at her, so soft, so brittle, so... breakable...
And as the sun disappeared behind the horizon, he snapped her neck backwards and watched her crumple to the soft grass.
Joker's eyes opened slowly. The dreariness of sleep almost lulled him back to slumber, but he pushed those feelings away and instead hoisted himself up. It had never been easy to move around with a straight jacket, but after a few years in and out of an asylum... it had become almost second nature.
He rolled over onto his shoulder and with some shuffling, finally got himself into a sitting position.
That was the third time he'd had that dream in less than a week. It didn't as much disturb him as annoy him. His dreams were usually filled with destruction and screams and sometimes he had to run for his life.
Which made them fun!
But this one was boring, it was dull and even the death at the end left him unsatisfied and empty.
The lightning flashed in the skies as the rain poured. Thunder rolled, growling in a god-like deep voice of the heavens. Slowly he stood and came to stand by the window, starring up at the skies and wondered if the gods were as upset about the dream as he was.
They certainly seemed to be angry.
He hated the dream for what it did to him, for what it made him feel... something he hadn't understood for a while, but now he knew and it angered him. Angered him enough to try and destroy the dream.
He'd had no nightmares about their 'incident' in the year after their ordeal and quite frankly he didn't care. He was alive and he could wreak as much havoc as he wanted, so he was as happy as could be.
Thunder clapped.
But, this dream, it made him feel... regret. A bitter regret that lingered in his mouth, something he was as alien to as a clown in a pencil factory.
He could barely grasp the concept.
And it angered him, so much so that he wanted and needed to destroy and hurt the people, to make it stop, to force new dreams into his subconscious. Perhaps that was the answer.
He stared up at the skies and smiled.
"Perhaps..." he whispered, "the only answer..." and laughed as the gods roared with him into the night.
Arkham stood quietly against the pounding rain and wind. The doctors were still working tirelessly through the night. Their patience, willpower and sanity tested hour upon hour. Those few who find the ability to stand against the onslaught of the inmates became respected and stayed for years and years.
They turn into living legends.
And Rebbecca White was one of those few. They had a nickname for her: Athena, a defender and peacemaker, one who stands vigilant against any felt that it was rather silly, but did see the sentiment behind it and thus did not shoot anyone down who called her this.
The small pale room held a table and two chairs, one occupied by Athena herself. Her white hair was bright in the sharp flickering florescent lights. The walls were once white, but now a faded grey and the windows were barred and locked, keeping out the pounding rain and wind.
She sat in the small room, her delicate silver wristwatch ticking steadily past seven and with an irritable huff she tapped her clipboard. Twenty years she had been working at this asylum and never once had she tolerated a late patient. Her tired eyes flicked to her watch; it had just turned 7:02. Two minutes or not, they were still late and she had a lot of work to get done tonight.
Feeling restless she reopened the file and scanned through it once more in the flickering lights.
Subject has not spoken at all about the incident...
Athena sighed as she pinched the bridge of her nose.
It was very common for patients to avoid the painful truth through stubborn silence. If the problem frightened or bothered them too much, they would simply deflect it or bury the memories through sheer mental will power.
But it was a very strange attribute to associate with this particularly patient though.
Yet has become somewhat introverted and shows increased violence which suggests suppressed emotion.
Wonderful, she thought sarcastically, 'Thank you, Annie, for leaving me the one that is going to try and tear my arm off.'
He only ever shows any form of interest when the conversation steers towards Mr. Freeze, at which he becomes bitter and violent,blaming the city for not doing a better job in reviving the comatose patient.
Rebbecca had heard of this. That he had become quite attached to the super villain, though the reason why was a mystery and perhaps even the root of the problem. But if the man didn't want to talk it could be next to impossible to figure out how to fix it.
She stared quietly at the empty chair across from her, feeling even wearier than she had ever felt in her life.
At age 52, Rebbecca felt it might be a good idea to retire. Most of her friends and coworkers were all gone, dead, or insane. Some were even her patients. This asylum had a way to tear you apart with hidden claws and shadowed teeth and leave you bleeding on the floor.
Some called it a place of healing.
Others called it the belly of Hades.
And that's why they needed gods like Athena and Zeus to fight against the monsters. After twenty years of hell and damnation she had been here the longest of all her peers and fellow doctors and orderlies, but she took no pride in this. Too many, far too many people have died and are dying because of this place.
She needed to quit while she was ahead... in every sense of the word.
The door slid open and groaned on its rusty hinges. The image of a growling beast flickered through her head in broken images, but she quickly suppressed the thought. It was no good to be as paranoid as your patients.
The sterile room let in a thin man, a mass of black hair tumbled around a gaunt face and sharp eyes. He stared at Rebbecca not with fear, relief, or even anger as with most of her patients, but with a quiet curiosity. A curiosity she had come to associate with him.
The two orderlies set him down in the chair across from her, his hands and feet were quickly, perhaps roughly, shackled to the armrests and floor.
She waited for the two gorillas to leave and as the door slammed shut, she felt another image flicker. The jaws of a dragon snapping shut, keeping its prey captive in its burning mouth as it inhaled to unleash its fiery fury.
Rebbecca shook her head.
"Good evening Edward," she said with a comforting smile at the man, who kept his gaze distant, but intrigued. "How are you feeling today?"
He didn't answer.
"Still quiet?" her eyes quickly scanned the file in front of her.
"I can understand your... reaction... if you were an ordinary man, Edward," she tried again, "but you are by far one of the most intelligent people I have met." She leaned back against the uncomfortable plastic chair, "you were wronged, abused, hurt and forced in a situation that was completely beyond your control."
He stared dead ahead, his body still, but his eyes sharp.
"I understand if you feel betrayed by Arkham for placing you in that position in the first place, we were suppose to protect you, keep you safe and we couldn't."
He blinked at her, but still said no word.
Thunder rolled.
Rebbecca flipped through the file, "The others are doing well. Penguin, though still bitter has shown immense progress in the past few months," she suppressed a sigh when the man still didn't so much as huff. "Joker has been... rather positive about it all... surprisingly enough."
Still nothing.
Rebbecca went for broke, "do you want to talk about Victor?"
His eyes narrowed.
"I am guessing that you two perhaps shared something during the incident." She pressed on; any reaction was good at this point, "comradeship, comfort, perhaps you shared problems?"
The silence that followed was thick enough to cut with a knife and after a long glare, Edward, slowly, almost mechanically closed his eyes and sighed. After months of working with him, this was practically a breakthrough.
She waited a moment to see if he was going to speak.
The seconds ticked on and if he wasn't sitting so rigidly she could have sworn he had fallen asleep.
"I think-"
"Bred in cruelty
through death and mistake
held in black heart and
fed through hate
has never been seen, heard or felt
yet through the days and even ages
it has always been held."
The Riddler opened his eyes.
Rebbecca felt her mouth turn weren't sharp or curious anymore… they were passionate, alive, awake, as if the spirit had been resurrected.
"A riddle I presume?" she asked in a thick voice.
He waited.
She suppressed a sigh and looked up to the ceiling. The words mingled in her head quickly and with a small frown she said.
"A grudge?"
The tiniest of smiles spread on his thin lips in response. "Got it in one," he rasped and then the dragon unleashed his fury.
She never had time to scream.
The explosion rocked the very foundations of the asylum, knocking down the wall in a blaze of white and yellow.
Rubble fell around the small room, but he had yet to move. Slowly, almost deliberately he unlocked the chains with a small hidden key. He stood and carefully stepped over the quiet body of the doctor.
"And I still have one with this city," he said as he stepped through the hole and into the rain,the alarm ringing in through the storm.
Yayayayayayayaya!
Dance till you drop cause here we go again! :D!
insanely yours
gollumfryingeggs