The alarm going off was mostly drowned out by the hubbub of the centre of Gotham, but if you knew what to listen for, it was clear as a bell.
Batman glided in the direction of it. One of Gotham's museums, which was currently hosting an exhibition of rare gemstones. Hotspot for theft, of course. Could be anything. Ordinary crooks or one of Arkham's rightful occupants. Nothing he hadn't faced before.
He hoped. The memory of the wrecked warehouse flashed through his mind. Mind you, it didn't seem likely that something that evidently psychotic would go for an apparently subtle attempt at robbery.
The rooftop entrance wasn't locked, and he stalked down the stairs beyond. The gemstone exhibit was on the top floor, so it would be hard for the thief – or thieves – to get away.
The Dark Knight quickly reassessed this assumption at the sight of the scattered unconscious guards in and around the exhibit. Sure enough, several valuable emeralds and rubies had been stolen, the glass cases crudely smashed by some blunt force. The same could be said of the guards, judging by the blooming bruises and broken limbs.
Something with a lot of strength, then. Croc immediately sprang to mind as he hurried down the next flight of stairs, looking for clues as to the foe's path, but it was unlikely that he would make it up this far. Besides, the ex-wrestler was still locked away, to his knowledge.
There. Through the glass doors, a small glinting object suggested that a gemstone had been dropped in the perpetrator's hurried escape. He glanced up at the sign: 'Sculpture gallery'.
Senses alert, he walked through the doors, scanning the room. He'd visited the sculpture gallery a few days ago, as Bruce Wayne, and knew that there were no other exits. Health and safety hazard, of course, but it was useful here.
And puzzling. Any thief, with the alarm still screaming around them, would make a break for the bottom floor and leave from there.
Most of what he saw seemed just as baffling as before, the usual strange, shapeless art. All meaningless. The second half, he knew, was more realistic. Portraits and suchlike.
Batman stalked deeper into the room, scrutinising every possible hideaway. Behind him, he could hear a storm of guards rushing past the sculpture rooms to go upstairs. Rather belatedly, he thought.
Nothing. The first section was empty.
Cautiously, he peeked into the second room.
Also empty.
He stopped, thinking. Could the ruby have been a false lead? But no, his instincts told him that the thief was in here. Soundlessly he walked in, one hand on his utility belt. Just in case.
Then he frowned.
One of the statues wasn't on a pedestal, just sitting behind a roped-off area. No sign or placard. Just a statue.
And it hadn't been there when Bruce Wayne had visited.
He peered closer out of curiosity. A recent addition, most likely. Made in some kind of black stone, it looked like – obsidian, perhaps. Certainly strange, the product of a diseased mind. A crouched, humanoid form. It was hard to make out more.
The Caped Crusader turned, glancing around the room. Nothing. But he wasn't alone. He could almost feel his prey in here.
He walked to the large windows, glancing through, wondering if somehow the thief had got outside. Then an uglier thought struck him – what if he were facing another Clayface? A shapeshifter? If that were the case...
Then another thought.
He prowled back over to the new statue, and stared at it. Surely not. No way was something that strange alive.
Nothing happened.
Then it grinned, revealing sharp, silvery teeth, and opened shockingly green eyes. "Damn. Almost worked."
The punch sent Batman reeling. He gasped for breath, snatching for a batarang and hurling it at the dark apparition.
The weapon caught the creature on the shoulder, and it hissed. With shocking speed, it lunged for Batman, claws flashing. The blows were just as quick as the creature itself but unskilled, and a lifetime of martial arts training allowed Batman to parry and send a punch back.
For all its speed and strength, it was light-weight, and staggered back a few paces, a long prehensile tail flicking forward to guard its retreat. It received another batarang for its trouble, this one catching a sharp blow to the muzzle.
The 'statue' squealed in shock and moved back another pace, then grabbed and hurled a small carving of a head at the Dark Knight, making him duck. It lunged forward, again quick as lightning to make the most of the advantage. Not only did the clawed fists strike, but the tail jabbed forward as well, and Batman was out of limbs to parry. A glancing blow from the tail caught him on the shoulder, spinning him slightly. A flurry of punches and slashes hammered into the Dark Knight, each barely guarded against.
Staying this close to his opponent was suicide. He judged the next punch, and rolled with it, letting the gained momentum take him a few feet away. As he rose, a bat-bolas was hurled at the snarling creature.
It collapsed, squirming, then shredded the rope with a twitch of those claws and was on its feet again. The tables had turned, though. Batman charged, using his superior weight to knock it down again, raining blows down.
The creature was simply too fast. A few punches connected, but the rest were simply dodged as it rolled away. The tail curled around his leg, trying to drag him down, but he narrowly kept his footing at the cost of his position.
For a moment, the two combatants stood, eyeing each other and panting lightly. The boundless confidence that had been in those green eyes to begin with had died down a little. Then, deciding discretion was the better part of valour, it scampered for the windows, smashing them without even slowing down and leaping out.
Guards crashed into the gallery, far too late. Batman ran for the window and leaned out, searching for the creature. No sign. He leapt out, gliding downwards and scanning for it, but the thief had vanished.
The Batmobile was ticking over in a quiet alleyway. Climbing into it, Batman suddenly realised that his opponent hadn't got clean away. A little fragment of skin had been torn away onto one of his wrist-spikes. It was only then that he let his injuries be felt, wincing at the bruises and gashes where those claws had connected.
With great care, he put it into one of the onboard computer's compartments. "Alfred."
The communicator flicked on. "Master Bruce?"
"Alfred, I need an analysis of this skin sample. Sending the data now."
"A new foe, Master Bruce?"
"So it would seem. I'll be returning to the mansion, I have a bad feeling about this one." The image of those claws slashing at him suddenly combined with the little clawmarks in the destroyed warehouse.
What if it weren't a combat suit... but a genetic experiment... he blinked, realising that Alfred was speaking. "Sorry Alfred. What was that?"
"I said that Miss Gordon wanted to speak to you and Master Dick in person, sir. She's on her way up here now. She said it was urgent."
"I'll be there soon." The main thruster of the vehicle kicked in, and it shot out of its hiding place and into the streets of Gotham.
Batgirl, still in her costume and pacing fast around the Batcave, shrugged off all attempts to calm her down. It was only when the Batmobile screamed into the underground fortress that she even slightly relaxed.
"There you are!" she snapped. "Took you long enough!"
Batman blinked as he got out of the vehicle. It was rare that she was this much on edge. "Sorry, I was busy fighting the latest addition to the rogue's gallery," he remarked. "What's going on?"
But she brushed past the question, bombarding him with her own. "A new villain? Who? Or what?"
"Alfred, has the computer finished its analysis?"
"The DNA was rather incomplete, Master Bruce, but it has a preliminary report." Alfred picked up his tray, offering the tea that had been rejected by all so far.
Dick Grayson tapped a key on the computer that dominated one side of the Batcave. A wireframe of the creature that had attacked Batman appeared on one of the screens. "Nice friend you've got, Bruce. Looks really cute."
Fundamentally, it was a very thin, wiry human woman. But there was little question of it, or her, being really human.
A series of long spines rose from her back, lying flat but apparently capable of being raised. Chitinous armour plates crisscrossed over her body, leaving only her underside exposed. The tail that extended out was nearly as long as the main body. The shoulderblades were exaggerated, rising up like guards around her neck.
The skull sloped back so that it almost looked like a cat's, with the slitted eyes slightly receded. Nose had blended with mouth to produce a befanged muzzle.
The hands and feet were spidery and tipped with claws; not hugely long, but they looked sharp. The arms were longer than normal as well, giving the impression that should she want, she could move around quite happily on all fours.
Batman nodded, removing his cowl and studying the creature carefully. "It was fast and strong. I think I surprised it by fighting back, which is why it fled. I wouldn't want to get into a real battle with the thing. Any idea what it is?"
"I can tell you right now."
All eyes turned to Barbara, who had also removed her cowl. "Her name is Needle, and she's a biological experiment of Wytech Industries that went wrong." Although the clip of Needle had kept the owner of the voice in the dark, the silhouette matched the computer image's profile perfectly. Besides, it was too much of a coincidence. "Listen, I got an anonymous message earlier, telling me to go to a Wytech warehouse. Turned out I wasn't the only invitee, there was also Catwoman, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn. When we went inside, we found the guards had been taken out, and there was a film. It was... a 'thank you' note from Needle. The four of us... well, through a lot of coincidences, we turned what was going to be a failed Wytech experiment into Needle."
"Wait wait," Dick interrupted. "You teamed up with Harley Quinn and Poison Ivy? Are you nuts? Catwoman, maybe, but..."
"Just shut up!" she snapped back. "The important thing is, Needle know who we are! She hacked the Wytech database, and the three of us are on it! She knows who we are!"
There was dead silence.
"Well, this isn't good," remarked Dick. "Did she spill the beans to everyone?"
She shook her head. "Said that she'd stay silent, as a favour to me in return for helping to create her. But that was just about me. She didn't say anything about you two."
"I think we need to pay Wytech a visit," said Bruce thoughtfully. He tapped a few controls on the computer.
"Hypothesis: human hybrid," it said tonelessly. "Unidentifiable DNA present. Multiple sources possible."
"What about its... her abilities?" Dick suggested. More controls were pressed.
"Insufficient DNA to speculate."
Batman sighed and donned his cowl again. "Well, we know that she's fast and strong. And based on that tape, it sounds like she's young and inexperienced. That'll no doubt change. We need to deal with her, fast. I should head out again. We all should."
"Ahem." Alfred cleared his throat gently, and pointed to the little television screen that was always tuned to the local news. All eyes glanced to it, then Dick turned up the volume.
"...and in breaking news, what may be the strangest criminal Gotham has yet seen was caught thanks to the efforts of Detective Bullock and the police Special Branch." Summer Gleeson's smiling face was replaced by a blurry shot of what was unmistakeably Needle being dragged into a heavy police van. "Detective Bullock informs us that the being, calling itself 'Needle', was caught trying to sell gemstones recently stolen from one of Gotham Museum's exhibits during a routine sting operation."
Cut again, this time to Bullock himself. "Complete stroke of luck. She beat a few of us up, some of the men have been sent to hospital, but we got her pinned down with enough firepower that she surrendered. Gotham's latest criminal turned out to be a complete amateur, luckily for us all."
"I don't buy it," said Batman and Batgirl simultaneously.
"She perfectly timed and predicted the path that we were going to take and rigged a motion sensor to set off the film," Batgirl said. "And now she walks straight into a police ambush?"
"Not to mention that she simply vanished the moment she got out of my sight," pointed out the Caped Crusader. "Maybe she would get stuck in the middle of the police simply out of inexperience, but then to give up quietly?"
"You call sending several men to hospital giving up quietly?" said Dick.
"Yes," was the blunt reply. "She was clumsy, broadcasted her every move, and she still gave me a real test in that short spar."
"But why? Why would anyone effectively hand themselves in like that?"
"Ahem." Alfred drew their attention back to the broadcast.
"On the recommendations of the police involved, the trial of the creature will be taking place later this afternoon," the report continued. "Detective Bullock is quoted to have said that 'The sooner this thing is in Arkham, the better.'"
"I'm going to that trial," said Batgirl instantly.
"And I think Bruce Wayne is about to take a great interest in the activities of Wytech Industries, in the spirit of public-mindedness about the rumours concerning their warehouse," Batman remarked.
Grayson shrugged. "Guess I'll go with Barbara. I want to see this thing first-hand."
Elsewhere in the city, in an abandoned circus, the Joker sat back and roared with laughter. "That's your new centre of evilness, Harley? I don't even need to joke about it, that's funny enough as it is."
Harley Quinn shrugged. "I dunno, Puddin'. She seemed a lot smarter when she got us all in that warehouse."
"Speaking of which, Harley my dear, why didn't you try and kill Batgirl while you were there, or let me know about it all? You could at least try to act like the accomplice of a man who has people keeling over in the aisles, in both senses..."
She pouted. "Cos you kicked me out, remember? Said you was busy. If you don't want me around to help you in your plans, I don't want you around in mine."
The Joker just burst into laughter again. "Plans? You have plans? Harley Quinn, every incident that I've heard of you getting involved in without me have been the schemes of that plant."
Harley spluttered, but it was mostly true – a lot of her criminal escapades had indeed been in the company of Poison Ivy. "Not all of them!" she objected. "I caught Batman and tried to kill him in that piranha tank before you threw me outta the window. And I stole the Harlequin diamond alone before I even met Red. And..."
"Yes, yes, details," he said airily, waving a hand in a dismissive fashion. "Enough arguing about that. Listen, I've got this devilish new idea..."
The phone rang and was snatched up. "Yes? Who is it?" He made a face. "Fine, fine, I'll pass her over. Same to you, greenie. Harrrrrrrley... it's for you."
Harley grabbed the phone eagerly. "Red?"
"When are you going to get your own line? I hate having to speak to that... man." Poison Ivy had evidently been considering using a less complimentary noun, but refrained. "Harley, did you see that report?"
"What, about Needle? Yeah, bit of a shock. Thought she'd be a tougher cookie than that."
"I'm not so sure. What are you doing this afternoon? I feel like a wander into town. One of the courts, perhaps."
Harley frowned. "Not much to ste- OH. Gotcha. One sec. Puddin'? Your wonderful plan gonna happen this afternoon?"
The Joker scowled, a rare expression for him, and shook his head. However little he outwardly cared for Harley, he did resent her being stolen away by 'the plant'.
"Yeah, I'm clear, Red. See ya there!"
A dark, heavy-coated figure ducked out of the stream of people and into a side-alley. "You called?" Atropos said softly.
"Target's out of range. It got caught." The radio made the other voice toneless, pinsharp but completely unrecognisable.
Atropos swore unpleasantly. "The police?"
"It knows we're tracking it. You know its capabilities, it went easy on its captors."
"How could it know?" the assassin spat back.
There was silence for a while. "Thallo got spotted. She's the only one of us the target would recognise. It must have got spooked."
"What the HELL -"
A high-pitched whine emitted into Atropos' earpiece, and she shut up, growling. "Thallo shouldn't have been out of headquarters. Why was she even in the area?"
"You don't have the right to start asking those kind of questions, Atropos."
"I've got the right because I've been put on the case. If you wanted the target dead, you'd have used Bia and consequences be damned. But you chose me, and that means we play by my rules in the target's territory. Which means anywhere outside of our holdings."
"Thallo isn't just one of us, she does have other responsibilities. She was called on said responsibilities. And remember what you're a part of, Atropos. You don't make the rules. You make advisements."
"You know very well -"
"You can save the attitude for when you're back here. Eunomia's onto it. You'll be called on later, but for now, you need to be out of the way. We can't afford questions, even if Carpho did deal with that body."
She sighed. "On my way."
"Order!"
The usual grumblings of the court room fell silent. The judge glanced at the notes for the next case, found none but a hurriedly scribbled note. He sighed. That rapidly assigned one. "Bring in the accused."
Out of the side-room came a pair of heavy-set cops. Close behind was Needle.
Just about everyone gasped. Barbara raised her binoculars, studying the creature. The silhouette on the tape, the projection of the computer had given her ideas... but seeing in the flesh was quite different. She noted the little rubber guards that had been hastily strapped onto the clawed hands and feet, making Needle's walk a little awkward.
The shocking thing was not the inhumanity of the creature. It was the way that, apart from the obvious, she was very human. A thin, wiry, oddly proportioned human with odd skin, but still human.
"Order!" the judge barked again to silence the mutterings, though he was shocked himself.
Needle smirked faintly at the effect of her appearance, and prowled over to the position indicated by the guards.
"Would you... uh... would the accused please state their name for the record."
She yawned. "Neeeeeeeeedle."
"Do you have any other name?"
A thoughtful pause. "Ahhh, if you want my old name... Ashley. Ashley Tryllat. Spelled with a 'wye' and two 'ell's. Not that you'll find that on any records, it got erased from them. Of that I have little doubt. Can we get on?"
"Uh." The judge scrutinised the creature before him. He had a nasty suspicion she was laughing at him. No, not just at him, but at the whole gathering. "Ashley Tryllat, you stand here accused -"
"I'm sitting." She was indeed perched on the edge of the stand. Someone at the back of the court tittered and was hurriedly shushed.
Now he was sure she was laughing. "You stand here accused of one case of theft, one case of arson, sixty-two cases of murder and ten of assault and grievous bodily harm. How do you plead?"
"Sixty-two?" She blinked, sat up straighter, and began counting on her fingers. Then she frowned. "I only get sixty-one."
The titter again, and this time it spread. In a sick way, it was funny.
"Sorry, could we go over them for a moment? Fifty-two people in the warehouse, I made sure I got them all. 'nother seven in the other one. One 'cos I got bored. One up in the museum. Where's the sixty-second?" She spoke casually, interestedly. As though discussing the weather, not a murder list.
The judge glanced at Detective Bullock, who was standing in the wings. "One of my men who was guarding that warehouse that got blown up by you. Tore his head off."
"The warehouse that was allegedly destroyed by the acc-" the Defence Council began.
"Ahh, shush," Needle interrupted. "Course I did that, who else would've? Yeah, yeah, I remember now. All kind of blurs into one, you know? Guilty on all charges."
In the audience, Barbara shook her head and nudged Dick. "She's lying," she whispered. "Look, that's the first time she's looked uncomfortable. Someone else killed the cop, but she's covering for some reason."
"Objection."
The judge looked up sharply. In the audience, a young, very smartly dressed woman had stood up and was making her way to the front. She smoothed out the immaculate navy suit for non-existent creases, and continued. "Apologies for the short notice, Your Honour, but I must argue against the validity of this case. The accused is the property of my clients."
"'Property'?" The judge looked relieved. Now he was dealing with someone he could understand. "Your name, Madam? And who, precisely, are your clients?"
"My name is Eugene Mataria, and I represent Wytech Industries. Your accused is the result of genetic experimentation by my clients, and has no rights of its own. It is our property, and thus our responsibility."
"You realise, Miss Mataria, that such a claim would result in the charges being transferred to Wytech Industries?" the Judge said.
Needle interrupted. "'scuse me. I'm a genetic freak of nature, whoopie, we all knew that. Doesn't mean I'm not human. I'm nobody's property."
Mataria ignored the outburst. In fact, she had yet to even look at Needle. "It was generated from a mixture of genetic material. There was some human DNA in there, but not enough for it to considered human."
Needle rolled her eyes and raised a hand as though in a class. "Let me see. What's the correct way of saying this? Oh yes. Liar, liar, pants on fire. I am twenty-three years old, I was born and raised in England, got a job with Wytech Industries, was suckered into volunteering for their bioweapons labs, and got turned into this. Hello? Anyone else find it a little odd that I can speak so perfectly, indeed chatter my head off, if I was born in a test-tube?"
Dick nodded. "Ok. Now I believe you. She could just go with what that lawyer's saying and get off the hook. She wants to be locked up."
The judge was no fool. He stared at the impudent black apparition lazing on the stand, knew that he should push the case. There was something missing here.
"Objection overruled," he said finally. "If your clients wish to make a real claim for the accused's-"
"Why'd you ask my name if you're not going to use it?"
"-for the accused's inhumanity and claim her, or it, as their property, they can make a proper case instead of this eleventh hour objection."
Mataria bowed her head with a small frown, then went to sit down again. On an impulse, Barbara focused her binoculars on her, taking note of the little silver double-hourglass ornament pinned to her jacket, the two little figure-eights sitting next to each other. For some reason, it seemed important. She refocused the zoom, noting the way that the silver was just an outline, with what might have been obsidian making up the main body of it.
"With the accused pleading guilt to all charges, I must now pass sentence. Based on the behaviour and temperament of the accused, I hereby order that she be taken from this place to Arkham Asylum until it is deemed that she is no longer a threat to society. Dismissed!"
Needle vaulted off the stand, continuing to grin as the two police officers dragged her away. On the edge, Detective Bullock shook his head, muttering something about 'complete nutcase'.
"Time to go." Ivy stood, almost unrecognisable in her 'civilian' clothing, carefully applied makeup subtly altering her features. Harley, similarly disguised, also stood, trying to stifle her giggles.
"That was so funny," Harley whispered as they moved for the exit amongst the crowd of other people. "Reminded me a bit of Mistah J's trials, except he made a nuisance of himself instead of just cracking jokes."
"Exactly," Ivy whispered back. "She was playing the entire court. She wants to be locked up."
"Not just a pretty face, are you?" a new voice remarked.
Ivy glanced around, met the eyes of the speaker. "Selina Kyle," she said with a faint smirk. "Might've guessed you wouldn't miss this. No doubt the Bat's here too somewhere."
"Pamela," replied Selina, a sardonic edge to her tone as she pronounced the name. "Harleen. You're looking well."
"What did you think of our mutual friend?" The three continued to drift out casually.
"She's dangerous," Selina said flatly. "We've got too many psychopaths in this city as it is. Criminals I don't have a problem with, but Needle doesn't just kill, she does it with more glee than the Joker. You heard her speak back there."
Harley shrugged. "She's got a point, Red, she did seem even more Loony Tunes than anyone I've known."
"Harley, my dear, according to the great mass of humanity that surrounds us, we two are criminally insane. I personally wouldn't agree. Sanity is relative. How do you fancy visiting Needle in Arkham?"
Selina drifted away, concealing her worried expression. A few feet away, she noted the face of the Commissioner's daughter watching the drifting pair of Arkhamites intently. All the more reason to make herself scarce.
The woman known as Eugene Mataria slipped into a side-alley with a disgusted look. It wasn't her real name. She didn't actually remember her real name. Too many pseudonyms over the years, with only one name being constant.
"You were ordered to return to headquarters," she said to the apparently empty alleyway.
Atropos slunk out of her hiding place. "Thought it was worth sticking around. Just in case."
Mataria just stared levelly at the other. "You disobeyed orders. You're a good agent. Better than the last Atropos. But don't take any more liberties. Now get out of my sight."
The two separated, Atropos blending into the shadows again.
The other adjusted her suit slightly, and walked rapidly towards the Wytech Industries offices. There was work to be done.
