Thank God for Aaron Cash.
The name flowed over Batman like water over cold ice, one of the true incorruptible security officers of this place, this Mercey Mansion. Despite the weight of the Kevlar and leather he shuddered as he followed his reluctant escort deep into Arkham.
The name alone was enough for most inmates who tried on the" unfit to stand trail" jag to run fleeing in terror. This was nothing like the Williams Medical Centre. That was all modern and bright lit and fashionable and clean. It was nothing more than a way station, a staging area before disgorging the truly insane into this fetid charnel pit of hell.
Arkham was perpetually cold; water seeped in the old basement and had never been fixed. Rising damp, mixed with drab prison green stained the walls of the concrete hallways. This place saw neither sun, nor, he sniffed, fresh air.
Underneath the disinfectant was the smell of excrement, underneath the air freshener was the unmistakable sting of bile and the recycled air hung heavy with fear and despair of not just the patients but of the warders.
And with the flickering caged lights came a feeling of dread, it was nothing real, nothing plausible but still is fingered your consciousness with chilled fingers and made you look over your shoulder, convinced you to jump at the shadows that lurked in the long lonely halls and flinch when a voice was heard to cry in the night.
Batman hated this place. It made sane men cowards and insane men, well best not to dwell on that. The halls were endless and even with a great sense of direction he found he had to refocus otherwise he too could get lost in the maze.
His guard was young, and keenly aware of the masked vigilante that followed soundlessly. He kept turning to look at Bruce and after what seemed to be the hundredth time Batman slowed.
"You have a question?" The deep gravel voice reverberated through the empty spaces and the guard winced.
"No, no sir, we're almost there." And true to his word one last turn and Batman frowned beneath the mask. Commissioner Gordon chewed at the end of an electronic cigarette. His face creased into a grimace as he pushed his hand into his coat pocket. Behind him was a hive of activity, several SWAT men with raised shields, Duncan Reynolds from the bomb squad and paramedics.
The area was cordoned off as Detective Ramirez pushed up to the Commissioner.
"Joker was found in his cell a little over an hour ago so 2 am by Bill North, he's locked himself in with the Joker and refused to come out until we got you here."
"So no eyes inside?"
"Nah." Ramirez spat with ill temper. "Ask me he's as nuts at the Joker."
"Who asked for me?" Batman growled as he moved closer to the closed door.
"Bill." Gordon answered. "Any ideas?"
"No." He raised his gloved fist and pounded on the door.
"Told you to back off until Batman gets here." The unmistakable Brooklyn accent of Bill North wafted through.
Batman frowned something was not right, normally by now it would be The Jokers insane sing song voice that taunted him about blood and bullets and 'watch the world burn'. But not this, the man on the other side of the door didn't sound scared, didn't sound like his life was in jeopardy. He flicked the small metal door back from the spy hole and peered in.
The room was pitch black but he heard a rustle in the far corner and a moan. Bill North's gentle face contorted into a snarl as he launched himself at the door and sagged when he saw the cowl on the other side.
"Just you ok?"
Batman nodded once and the door was opened enough for him to enter. It took long moments before his eyes adjusted; vaguely he remembered hearing the door be barricaded again before brown eyes blinked at him owlishly.
"Found him like this on rounds." The man spoke and Batman swallowed the lump in his throat as he looked on the Joker. Thin far too thin was the first thing that came to mind and wrapped no swaddled in an asylum blanket he shivered, toxic green eyes were wild with fear and pain as obscene tears leaked down the un painted face. Batman's heart pounded in his ears, the adrenaline dumped into his body made him shake as he stepped forward. "The other guards, some of them like to play games. He's covered in bruises and burns and Jesus Batman I didn't know what to do. If they got him in the infirmary they'd kill him for sure, and after what happened to little Harley."
"What happened to Harley?" Batman edged forward in the tiny room, Bill had used the cot to barricade the door and the light was out. He pulled out a glow stick from his utility belt and shook it.
"You know she was pregnant? Twins?" Bill spoke softly as the Joker became distressed and began to rock as the green light hit his face.
"No."
"They took her middle of the night bout three weeks back, she was just starting to really show. Thing is there was nothing on the manifest, no transfer orders, nothing, it's like she un-existed. "
Batman crouched in the back corner; his large gloved hand reached slowly forward to the Joker who frowned as if some long internal debate and launched himself forward into the Kevlar coated arms. Instinctively he closed his arms around the fallen clown and began to rock slowly.
"He's got multiple contusions, burns, he's been tortured and starved, water boarded, electrocuted, cut and that's just what I can see." Bill North turned horror filled eyes down to the trembling man and put a hand out to gently rub his back. Joker began to shiver and his voice like paper whispered into Batman's ear.
"Not crazy, really really not. Cadmus made the Voice of God, Cadmus made me." Joker whispered as his breath choked on a cry and passed out.
Stunned Batman pulled the blanket away from the prone figure and looked down at the blood that pooled on the dark concrete floor.
"Medic!" Batman shouted as he lifted the too thin frame and Bill opened the door. He laid his load down on the gurney and looked directly at Gordon. "Take him to Gotham General."
"They can treat him here." Ramirez rounded.
Batman pushed himself close to the Detective. "They did that to him here." The voice quiet, clipped, dark and positively lethal.
"You'd better decide quickly." The paramedic shouted. "He's flat lining."
"Go." Gordon ordered and ran a hand through his hair.
In the melee and shouted commands they missed the masked man's exit, the words ringing in his ears.
"Cadmus made the Voice of God, Cadmus made me."
Hell.
The clown may well know of Cadmus nothing would surprise him, but those words, those eyes and the pain in the voice as his most hated of enemies cowered in his arms for sanctuary.
Hell.
Bruce ran...