Hi, everybody! This is the longest chapter yet, and the most fun for me to write so far. I know you'll have just as much fun reading it, as villains start coming out of the walls from this point on. Oh, and by the way, just to help your imaginations: Imagine the Batmobile in this story as the one from the original Tim Burton Batman and Batman Returns movies. That always has been, and always will be, THE Batmobile in my book. Have fun mud wrestling with Clayface. --Tobias Umbra
He looked kind of like a snowman, made out of human feces.
He smelled kind of like it, too.
Ben lay sprawled out on the floor, his heart rate seized in a fit of horror, as the brown, mud-like blob that had once been his father began to reshape and pulsate and ooze into a large, grotesque caricature of a man. Growing massive shoulders that defined the entire shape, with long, gorilla-like arms with the thickness of a tree trunk, there was a rapid sucking and squishing sound as the blob reformed itself. At the ends of each arms formed four-fingered fists like boulders, individual fingers having a disgusting, almost phallic appearance. At the base of the blob formed a pair of massive legs like those of an elephant, sinking into the floor in a puddle of thick mud and clay. In between the obscenely broad shoulders, a mound began to form like an engorging zit, the faintest suggestion of a brow and jaw on the exterior.
A pair of empty, brownish-yellow eyes opened under the brow, and the jaw of the squashed head split horizontally open in a cavernous maw filled with jagged, stone-like teeth.
There was a stirring in Ben's stomach as he gagged, and he felt the warm sting of vomit burning the back of his throat.
He clamped his hand over his mouth to stifle his barf, and in the back of his mind there was the faintest amount of recognition.
Clayface…wasn't that the thing's name?
Of all of the freaks and super criminals haunting Gotham City's streets, Clayface was possibly the only one of them with what might be called 'superpowers'.
"Don't worry, kid," Clayface gurgled in a guttural growl, "You don't gotta die tonight. We just have to take a little walk somewhere…"
The mud monster took a clumsy step forward, creating a distinct sucking sound as he lifted his stumpy foot, then a distinct slapping sound as he set it down. It sank into the floor slightly in a glop of brown sludge.
There is a part of the brain, called the hypothalamus, which controls the instinctive reactions to threatening situations, called the fight-or-flight response. The hypothalamus pumps a person full of adrenaline and other hormones and tells a person, subconsciously, whether to fight or flee a source of danger.
At that moment, Ben's brain did not care about what Clayface might be saying or the assurance that he wouldn't be harmed.
At that moment, Ben's brain was telling him to RUN.
Hyped up on adrenaline, Ben launched up from the wood floor with surprising stamina and speed, rounding the counter and dashing for the door.
"HEY!!" Clayface bellowed, and Ben heard a loud, squishy pop.
Less than a second later, Ben felt a massive, moist blow to his back that knocked the wind out of his lungs and knocked him off his feet.
He hit the hardwood floor in a heap, smacking his jaw painfully and biting down on his tongue. The warm rush of blood in his mouth and the pain made him lock up and coil together.
Behind him, he heard Clay face's squishy steps coming toward him.
"I tried to be NICE about this!!" Clayface bellowed, and Ben turned over to see a large glop of mud on his back, with the monster standing over him.
Ben leapt up and fell against the stove as the mud monster came closer.
"I said I wasn't gonna hurt you, kid," Clayface growled, his cavernous mouth moving like Jabba the Hutt's. As he spoke, Ben noticed a skillet on the inactive stove.
"Now we can do this the easy way or the scary way," Clayface menaced, "What's it gonna be?"
Without skipping a beat, Ben grabbed the skillet, swinging with the narrow end into Clayface's excuse for a head.
There was a distinct splat as Clayface's skull disappeared in a splash of mud, and Ben jumped backward as his face was peppered with freckles of brown.
Ben dropped the skillet in shock as Clayface simply grew a new head, his empty yellowish eyes brimming with anger.
"Suit yourself," Clayface snarled.
Ben screamed as Clayface's arm grabbed his shoulder, feeling the wet, oozing but super-strong grip on his arm.
"Shut up," Clayface snapped.
Ben smacked and struck at the trunk-like arm, producing only slaps of clay, hyperventilating in fear.
Clayface's other arm grabbed his waist, oozing around his hips to envelop his entire midsection.
Ben again felt the urge to vomit, surrounded by the smells and the warmth and the moisture, it was like sinking into a pool of shit.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a spray bottle full of kitchen cleaner with bleach. Instinctively, Ben mustered up one final burst of strength, pushed off with his feet and threw himself into the counter. Just as he felt Clayface beginning to pull him backwards, Ben grabbed the bottle from the rim of the sink, crunched upwards to be right in front of Clayface's eyes, and sprayed into the empty yellow orbs.
"AHHH! YOU FUCKER!!" Clayface roared and released his grip, throwing Ben into the wall with a bellow that shook the ceiling.
Ben slammed into the wall, his neck jerking with whiplash, and he let out a groan of pain as he slid down the wall.
As Clayface stumbled backwards, Ben squashed the pain down into his stomach and took off, throwing the penthouse door open and bolting out into the hallway.
He burst out into the hallway with so much speed that he smacked into the hallway wall, bruising his shoulder as he tore down the hallway to the elevators.
The panic rushing to his brain was to the point that he didn't even want to use the stairs.
Clayface could run after him down the stairs.
Ben needed to get as far away as possible, as fast as possible.
He jabbed his forefinger into the call button, pushing his back into the elevator doors in terror as if it would make them open faster.
There was another animal roar that Ben could feel shaking the ground, then the slight tremors from those heavy, stomping footfalls.
Ben heard the mild humming as the elevator ascended to the 22nd floor.
The massive shadow darkened the corridor as the walking mud pile shrugged out of the penthouse and oozed into the hallway. Clayface was visibly blinking his bulbous yellow eyes as he leered down at Ben.
"I'm gonna fuck your world up, you little shit…" Clayface snarled, flexing those massive hands.
Ben began to hyperventilate as Clayface trudged down the hallway towards him, his eyes darting at all angles.
In a red metal box mounted near the door to the stairs was a carbon-dioxide fire extinguisher, within easy reach.
Ben charged forward and yanked open the box, grabbing the large red tank in both hands and pulling it off of the rack.
With a grunt, Clayface's left arm shot forward and extended, snaking around the corner and grabbing Ben's wrist, enveloping it in sucking, sticky brown ooze.
The arm jerked back and began to drag Ben towards the massive body, the face split open in a malicious grin.
Ben took a step backwards, only to receive an even stronger jerk than nearly pulled him off of his feet. He put his middle finger into the ring and tore out the safety pin as Clayface pulled him around the corner.
Mustering up all of his strength, Ben pulled back against the arm and unhooked the extinguisher's hose, gripping the handle in his other hand.
Ben turned around and aimed the fire extinguisher at Clayface.
"No you don't!!" Clayface snapped, shooting his other arm forward, extending it with thick fingers raked at Ben's face.
In Ben's horror, he watched as the fingers narrowed and sharpened into four narrow spike-like appendages.
Pushing backwards with his feet, Ben threw himself to the ground and squeezed the handle of the fire extinguisher.
With a distinctive whooshing hiss, a cloud of white gas burst out from the hose and enveloped Clayface's snake-like arm.
There was another howl of deep anguish as Clayface was obscured in thick carbon dioxide gas.
Ben gritted his teeth in pain as Clayface's grip on Ben's other arm constricted and threatened to crush his bones.
Ben gripped the handle of the extinguisher and lifted with his other arm, his biceps flexing as he lifted the tank of the extinguisher as far over his head as he could.
At that exact moment, Ben heard the perky ding as the elevator arrived.
With a grunt of conviction, Ben brought the extinguisher down hard on the tight tentacle of mud.
There was a wet splatting sound as the tank bashed into the tentacle, and it promptly stretched and softened its grip in response to the blow.
Planting his feet firmly on the ground, Ben jumped up and tugged against the gooey appendage, stretching it like taffy until it gave way and detached from the rest of the monster.
The mud that had previously been gripping his wrist fell limp and began to slop off of his hand.
There was an enraged scream as Clayface's silhouette appeared through the carbon dioxide fog.
For good measure, Ben gave another blast with the fire extinguisher, then threw it as hard as he could in Clayface's direction.
Ben could just hear the dull, soft thudding sound as the extinguisher hit Clayface just as he threw himself into the open elevator.
As soon as he hit the padded interior of the elevator car, Ben rushed over to the console of buttons and frantically stabbed at the CLOSE DOOR button.
Finally, the doors began to slide closed just as the clouds of CO2 began to clear.
Just barely through the fog, Ben could see Clayface's yellow orbs narrowed in fury, then there was a small click as the elevator doors shut.
Ben punched the LOBBY button and breathed a sigh of relief as the elevator jolted and began to slide down the shaft.
Collapsing in a post-terror calm against the elevator walls, closing his eyes and trying to catch his breath, Ben almost felt like laughing at the upstart, bland elevator music, a calming contrast to the terror mere moments before.
He simply waited there for a moment, catching his breath as the floors clicked by slowly down from 21, 20, 19, 18.
Ben looked around at the button console and saw a door over the cubbyhole in which the elevator's emergency phone resided.
Stepping forward and yanking open the small door, Ben pulled the phone off of the hook and put it to his ear. He'd left his cell phone on the couch by the TV, so the emergency phone was his only option.
After a moment, Ben heard the clicking sound of the phone connection.
"911 Emergency Response. How may I help you?" The operator on the other end inquired.
"I need the police," Ben breathed, "There's a…man in my building and he's trying to kill me."
Ben couldn't think of quite how to explain the whole Clayface situation, so he thought it best to keep it simple.
"Alright, where are you, sir? And what is your name?" the dispatcher asked urgently.
"My name's Ben Edwards. I'm in the elevator in my building. It's the Robinson Park Terrace building, 1989 Burton Street."
"Are you sure you're in a safe place, sir?" the dispatcher prodded.
"I'm pretty sure," Ben responded.
As if on cue, there was a hard thump from above and a jolt of the elevator.
Ben yelped in shock and looked up at the floor counter as the grinding of gears echoed from the elevator shaft above, noticing that the elevator was moving much slower than it previously had, sluggishly moving from floor fifteen to fourteen like a fifteen minute timer.
"Ben?" the dispatcher demanded with a touch of stress, "Are you safe at the moment?"
"I don't know," Ben whispered in fear.
"Ben, you need to get to a sa—before you--" the operator sputtered out as a small metallic squeak could be heard from above.
"Hello?" Ben croaked into the phone, only to hear silence. There wasn't even a dial tone.
Ben pulled the phone away and looked down at the deceased phone in his hand, only to notice that the lights above were getting dimmer, a dark shadow growing over the floor.
Ben stared upwards in horror to see the clear plastic covering the fluorescent lights above filling with brown, flowing mud.
"Oh, shit," Ben squeaked, his breath short.
The plastic covering bent downward from the weight of the mud filling the chamber up, and a corner popped out from the frame, spilling a cascade of flowing clay into the elevator, which poured onto the floor and splashed Ben's knees with brown.
Ben yelped and fell backwards from the waterfall of clay, slamming his finger into the red alarm button repeatedly.
The elevator instantly stopped in between the 12th and 11th floors, actually making the problem worse.
Ben pushed himself into the corner of the elevator, paralyzed in dread as the mud continued to fill the elevator with surprising speed.
In seconds, the mud coated the floor and touched his toes, shocking Ben out of his stupor as the clay's surprising coldness chilled him to the bone.
Ben ran his fingers down the elevator console's buttons, lighting the panel up like a Christmas tree, pressing every button he saw.
Still, the elevator refused to move, and Ben reacted with a low scream as the mud began to flow towards his corner of the elevator, the mud actually beginning to creep and ooze up his legs. Over it all, Ben could've sworn he heard Clayface's deep, gurgling laughter from above.
"Oh God, oh God, oh God, please," Ben whimpered, jamming his fingers into every button on the panel.
It didn't matter what floor or whether he went up, down, or sideways, just as long as he moved, as long as he could get some escape from this hell he'd found himself in.
The mud continued to flow around him, sinking into his every pore, pooling around his ankles whilst a thick brown coating crawled up his thighs, soaking him in that deathly cold. The pool began to rise to his knees as the coating of mud slowly bordered his hips and private parts, both soaking and creeping under every layer of his clothes, violating him like a sex offender.
It was then that Ben realized that he couldn't feel his legs below his knees, and he slammed both fists on the unresponsive elevator buttons, screaming for help at the top of his lungs.
"Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod," Ben stammered, praying that he'd just wake up from the nightmare he'd been thrust into for seemingly no reason.
Ben breathed harder and harder and nothing seemed to satisfy his lungs as the coating of mud climbed up his hips, and the pool of clay rose to his mid-thighs.
It was then that he saw the red emergency button fixed in the pressed position, and he frantically pressed the button again, and the elevator hummed to life.
Ben hollered in terror, slamming his fingers again and again into the eleventh floor call button.
With finality, the elevator dinged for him and the silver doors began to slowly slide open, and Ben could practically hear the Halleluiah chorus.
Gripping the door frame with his arms, Ben threw himself forward out of the elevator, hearing a sucking sound and feeling a pulling sensation at his legs as the mud refused to release him.
Ben hit the carpet of the eleventh floor on his side, his ankles still in the clay's firm grasp.
Ben pulled at his thighs hard as if he was trying to run in place, and felt the mud giving way just a bit.
With a final, roaring burst of effort, Ben yanked his legs backwards and dislodged his feet from the living mud pile.
Immediately, the living mud that had been crawling under his clothes went limp and began to soak his shorts as if he'd soiled himself.
Ben moaned raggedly as he stood to his feet, barely noticing the fact that the mud had devoured his flip-flops.
Back in the elevator, the mud began to pool even more rapidly, and began to take some shape.
It wouldn't be long before Clayface was coming out of the elevator.
Without any hesitation this time, Ben took off towards the staircase, throwing open the door and jumping with surprise as the fire alarm began to honk. Regaining his posture, Ben considered the more alarm, the better, and took off through the stairwell and down the stairs, the concrete scratching at his bare feet.
His toes and heels still coated with clay, Ben slipped while curving around a landing and fell into the guardrail, smacking his ribs into the metal rail and rolling down the short flight of stairs. He hit the next landing in a heap, scraping his ear on the cement. Ben let out a growl of pain and clapped his hand to his ear, coming away with the tips of his fingers red with blood.
A flight above, Ben heard a crash as the fire escape door was slammed open and a deep roar shook the concrete stairwell.
"You're really startin' to piss me off, kid," Clayface rumbled from above.
Ben picked himself up and took off down the stairs, trying not to slip this time as the monster's steps could be heard slapping on the steps above.
He looked up the atrium-like stairwell, Clayface's gargantuan shoulders looming over the guardrails from a floor above.
Clayface turned and glowered at him, raising one of his arms.
Ben took off without even waiting to see what would happen next, hopping down the stairs at three steps at a time as a hardened clay spike bashed into the concrete walls, creating a depression and a spider web of cracks in the masonry.
Above, Clayface's arms were stretched out like brown, taffy-like snakes, extending far below with claw-like hands attempting to grab him. Ben watched in horror as one of Clayface's hands transformed and re-molded itself into a shovel-like blade, swishing into the guardrail and cutting a massive sliver into the metal, bending it like a paper clip. Ben dived forward to avoid getting struck, and landed hard on his chest in a way that it knocked the wind out of him.
Picking himself up with a groan and a gritting of his teeth, Ben forced himself up and took off back down the stairs.
Clayface's arms shrunk back upwards and Ben could hear the thudding stomps of Clayface running down the stairs.
It didn't take Ben long to reach the fifth, fourth, and third floors with Clayface still pounding after him and the fire alarm still buzzing aloud.
Ben was rather surprised that other people hadn't appeared on the stairs yet, running from a fire that didn't really exist. He was still thankful, however, since more people would probably slow his escape from the terror above.
Ben rounded the corner between the second floor and the stairs leading down to the ground floor, and he heard a loud slumping sound from above, like someone heaving a heavy garbage bag through the air.
With little warning, the massive brown mass of Clayface dropped down from the stairwell above and landed on the concrete with a distinctive, repulsive splat.
The impact shook the ground itself and Ben stumbled for a bit, diving hurriedly for the door to the lobby. As Ben pushed on the bar to open the lobby door, he looked back to see a large clay tentacle shooting out from the re-forming mud mass, the tip shaped like the head of a sledgehammer.
Ben darted to the side as the hammer-headed tentacle missed him by mere inches, then crashed into the lobby door and threw it wide open with an audible bang.
The tentacle bounced backwards and rejoined the rest of the clay pile, which was quickly regenerating into Clayface's body.
Ben took off through the open door and burst into the lobby's white marble floors, bolting into the middle of the room and passing the lovely-looking fountain in the center of the floor.
Behind the building's desk, Jeff the security guard had a bewildered, confused look on his face, and a well dressed, middle-aged couple standing at the desk looked at him like he was a wild animal.
Ben realized for a moment how bizarre he had to look, his back and his waist to toes covered in mud, bleeding from his ear and the scrape on his chin.
He must've looked like the guy from Die Hard.
"Ben. Are you alright?" Jeff inquired oddly, "What's going on here?"
At that exact moment, a horrible metal shrieking could be heard as the emergency exit door to the lobby was blown off of its hinges. The door sailed through the air and crashed into the lobby's fountain with a loud crumbling and a messy splash. The fountain began to leak and pool water on the marble floor as the woman in the couple began to scream in shock.
From the blown-out doorway emerged Clayface, his gooey feet slapping against the floors.
The woman continued screaming as the man with her and Jeff jumped back in horror.
The couple took off as Jeff took cover under the security desk.
So much for building security's help.
Pulling back his arm like a monstrous pitcher, Clayface made a throwing motion with his hand and lobbed a massive glob of mud at Ben with astounding speed.
Ben ducked for cover as the mud pie soared over his head and splashed against the wall above the security desk with a resounding crack.
Ben took off running across the lobby, sprinting through the glass automatic doors as they slid open for him.
He felt the cool Gotham night air swirling around him as he ran up Burton Street with its sparse nighttime traffic.
A roar behind him said that Clayface could only be outside as well and still in pursuit.
Up ahead, the intersection of Burton and Fourth laid inviting yet dark.
Without even looking for oncoming traffic, Ben leapt across the street and slipped on the sidewalk on the other side.
With a final stomp on the asphalt, Clayface stopped in the middle of the street, mere feet from him, and scowled down at him.
As Clayface looked down at him, Ben could see the yellow glow of piercing, approaching headlights. Was that the blaring whine of a jet exhaust that he heard in the distance?
Clayface didn't seem to notice, his yellow lobes fixed on Ben's prostrate form.
"Let's see you pull another stunt this time," Clayface sneered.
Almost faster than Ben could comprehend, the jet-engine whine grew louder and the approaching yellow lights grew brighter, finally enough for Clayface to notice and look in their direction.
Clayface barely had time to utter a gasp of surprise before a low riding, four-wheeled black shape screamed into view and plowed into Clayface with a loud, wet crash.
As if in slow motion, Clayface practically exploded, splatting against the sleek black car and spattering all over the street and the surrounding buildings in a thick brown spray.
As the car screeched to a stop, Ben could see just a small pile of mud remaining in the automobile's wake.
Trying to process the information, Ben looked at the now idling black car, observing it's curving, wing-like fins and its hood like a jet turbine. The distinctive split windowed windshield, more appropriate to a fighter plane than a car, and the smoking jet exhaust could only belong to one car.
Ben picked himself up, shaken, as the top of the Batmobile slid forward and exposed the two riders in the car.
Leaping out was a familiar teenage form in a domino mask, yellow and black scalloped cape and a red and black suit with an R on the breast.
Ben was still in a measure of shock as Robin came closer and put a hand on his shoulder.
"Are you okay, Ben?" Robin asked urgently as the Batmobile idled on the street.
"You hit him with a car," Ben remarked in disbelief.
"We kind of had to. Better he gets hurt than you. Not that it really hurt him," Robin shrugged.
Robin didn't bother to explain his personal opinion about fighting Clayface. Though dangerous indeed, there was little that could actually kill Clayface aside from fire, industrial chemical solvents or a lot of water. There was something vaguely fun about fighting Clayface, since there was little need to hold back against someone that could take all sorts of normally lethal punishment and only get really exhausted as a result.
The spattered mud from the buildings, streets, and even the mud smeared on the Batmobile began to squirm and creep back to the mud pile where Clayface had once stood.
With alarming speed, the pieces of Clayface gathered together and loomed up into a vaguely human shape behind the Batmobile.
"Um…" Ben trailed off, pointing behind Robin at the rejuvenated Clayface.
"That REALLY hurt," Clayface rumbled as Robin followed Ben's gesture.
Before Clayface or Robin could do anything, the jet exhaust of the Batmobile let out a short but powerful burst that singed Clayface and blew him apart at the waist like a melting chocolate ice cream cone in a wind tunnel.
"He's going to be taken care of for a while," Robin remarked flatly, turning around to face Ben once more with a serious look in his eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Robin asked.
Still rather shaken up, Ben was at a loss for an answer, and responded slowly, "I live here?"
Robin gave him a very annoyed look, as if Ben was retarded.
"I know that," Robin shot back, "I mean, what are you doing with gruesome back there?"
Behind them, Clayface had regenerated his blown-off torso and had reformed his face into a very angry expression.
"NOW I'm pissed!!" Clayface bellowed.
Robin merely glanced over his shoulder and cautiously put a hand on his belt as the Batmobile's canopy slid open and a great black shape flew out from the driver's seat, spreading dark leather wings and casting a dark silhouette on the asphalt below.
As the bat wings narrowed and the shape dropped to the ground, it extended its arm and threw an object that looked like a hockey puck at Clayface, which splatted into his chest with a hard smack.
An instant later, there was an earsplitting boom as the object exploded, blowing every part of Clayface above his 'knees' apart.
The black shape landed on its feet and raised its cowled head, crowned with a pair of pointed ears.
Ben could just barely see the insignia of a bat on its chest, and his breath was once more frozen in his lungs.
With a minor turning of his head, Batman stared at him with those piercing eyes again, with a mix of suspicion and forced softness.
"Woah…" Ben breathed in awe.
"Hey, Ben. Stay with me," Robin said insistently, snapping his black-gloved fingers in front of Ben's face.
Ben's gaze returned to Robin.
"Do you have any idea why Clayface decided to attack you?" Robin demanded.
Ben awkwardly shrugged. "I dunno. I'm just sitting and watching the tube, and suddenly…he comes in and starts some shit. I've just been running my ass off since then."
"Did you tell anyone about me?" Robin interrogated.
"No!" Ben answered, slightly insulted, "I'm not gonna tell people that shit, Tim. They probably wouldn't believe me anyway…"
At the point that Ben had called him 'Tim', Robin gave him an icy look and a frown.
"Sorry…" Ben corrected sheepishly, "…Robin."
Behind them, Clayface was reconstituting himself once more; his sludge-like fragments leaping back together and reforming into a humanoid shape with a furious speed.
"STOP DOING THAT!!" Clayface bellowed.
Before Clayface was even done yelling, Batman was in motion, charging towards Clayface silently with his dark cape swirling behind him.
Clayface thrust his arm hard at Batman, his arm stretching out and forming the spiked-ball form of a mace.
Batman was leaping through the air before Clayface even knew what was happening. Clayface's mace-fist missed the Dark Knight and slammed into the sidewalk, generating a massive shockwave that almost knocked Ben off balance. As Batman flew through the air, he thrust his arm out at Clayface's extended appendage, and Ben could hear a high-pitched spraying sound as a pale white gas coated Clayface's arm.
Batman soared over Clayface's head, delivering a hard punch to the monster's face that collapsed the fearsome visage.
As Batman landed on his feet behind Clayface, Ben could see the arm that Batman had sprayed, stiff and slightly darker with tiny, sparkling ice crystals growing out of it.
"Freonic gas," Robin explained offhandedly, "One of the few things that can incapacitate parts of him."
Clayface screamed in anguish as Batman whirled back around the large monster and delivered a snapping kick to the stiff arm, which surprisingly shattered like pottery, large pieces of stiff clay crumbling to the ground.
"In English, that means…?" Ben inquired.
"It makes him really really cold," Robin responded in a patronizing tone, "It freezes his cells and makes them brittle. That way, he breaks apart instead of just oozing back together. Simple enough for you?"
"Smart ass," Ben muttered under his breath.
"I heard that," Robin remarked in a disinterested monotone.
Clayface was trying to fight Batman with one arm now, extending his remaining limb like a whip and making failed slashes at the darting crime fighter.
The tentacle molded into an extremely sharp, lance-like point, and speared down at the ground at Batman's feet.
Batman leapt back and flung a rather fat-looking black batarang at Clayface, which smacked into his shoulder and began to sink in.
Batman ducked down and shielded his eyes as the batarang exploded in a brilliant flash of white light and deafening sound.
As Clayface let out a short cry of panic, now blind and disoriented from the flash bang grenade, Batman unleashed another wave of freezing spray from the aerosol can in his hands, solidifying Clayface's spear like appendage.
Clayface flew backwards and detached from the tentacle with still some semblance of an arm left.
"Ben," Robin asked, "Did you tell anyone anything about what happened last week?"
"No," Ben insisted, "I haven't said a word about it to anyone."
Robin rolled his eyes impatiently and said "I know you wrote a journal entry about it on your computer. You also wrote it down in that book of yours."
"What? How did you know that?" Ben demanded with some confusion, "Have you been spying on me?"
"What did you expect?" Robin snapped, "Last week was a royal cluster fuck! I kept an eye on you."
Back behind them, Clayface was concentrating on trying to keep Batman at bay.
"Give it up," Batman recommended, producing a batarang with a pair of electrodes where the 'ears' would normally be.
"Bastard," Clayface growled, stretching his remaining arm out far, "You just don't get it, DO YOU?!"
Clayface's arm transformed into a sharp, scythe-like shape, and he swung it in a ferocious manner in an attempt to bisect Batman.
The Dark Knight rolled across the ground, dodging under the swinging arm and launching the electric batarang at Clayface.
The batarang sank into Clayface's shoulder and began to spark, eliciting a series of loud shrieks from Clayface as he flailed his arm lethally and wildly. Batman dodged forward, out of range as Clayface continued to get zapped.
In his wild spasms, Clayface's still sharpened arm plowed into a nearby fire hydrant, tearing open the valve with a rending of metal.
The hydrant burst open and released a torrential blast of water, spraying Clayface with a dense, full-force stream.
Robin whipped around in surprise, and all three, Batman, Robin, and Ben were frozen for a moment in their respective positions as Clayface began to scream and spasm.
As he absorbed the high-pressure geyser of water, Clayface continued to jerk from the electrifying batarang still embedded in his shoulder. As he writhed in agony, Ben noticed that Clayface was rapidly losing consistency, his legs beginning to melt into a brown custard that was being diluted into a thin earth-toned liquid by the rushing waters. He was, for lack of a better word, melting, and rather than collapsing and reforming like before, it appeared that he was dissolving.
"Robin!" Batman commanded urgently, and the Boy Wonder burst into a full speed run before Ben could even comprehend it.
Almost as if reading each other's minds, they swiftly and wordlessly set out on specific tasks.
Robin drew a silver, collapsible bo-staff from his utility belt, extending it with a flick of his wrist, then leapt into the air and smacked the shoulder in which the batarang was embedded. The batarang fell off, along with most of Clayface's shoulder, which sloughed off like the top scoop of a melting ice cream cone.
Batman himself leapt in front of Clayface, extending his cape to shield himself as he took the full force of the water.
Gritting his teeth, Batman threw another hockey-puck shaped disc at the fire hydrant, which exploded with tremendous boom that tore the entire fire hydrant off of the street.
The unhindered water main proceeded to blast a pressurized jet of water skyward. The water still came down due to gravity, and most of the area around the intersection was drizzled with a rain-like shower.
"Let us get you out of the water," Batman insisted forcefully to the wobbling, dripping Clayface.
"And into…some lockup…?" Clayface choked out, his legs still dissolving into brown custard.
"You'll live," Batman growled.
Clayface's entire body began to droop, looking almost like a chocolate Easter bunny in a microwave.
What passed for Clayface's chin drooped and dripped off of his face like a taffy pull, splatting quietly on the street.
Clayface looked around as the light shower of water continued to fall, and he actually began to shrink in size, becoming a pathetic shadow of the hulking monster only minutes before.
Ben saw Clayface's gaze lock onto a large storm drain mere feet away, then watched him look back at Batman.
"I'll take my chances," Clayface growled.
With one last burst of strength, Clayface coiled his remaining body up and gave a sloppy leap through the air, leaving a garbage-bag sized mud pile behind him.
Batman and Robin darted after the leaping sludge-ball in vain, missing him by about a yard as Clayface splashed into the storm drain and gushed through the grate, vanishing into the darkness of the runoff sewer.
There was a small moment of silence, with nothing but the roaring of the ruptured water main blasting into the air and the pitter-pat of it returning to the ground.
Ben felt the cold, wet feeling as his clothes were soaked.
"Do you think he's going to die?" Robin inquired, staring at the storm drain.
"Hardly. He's survived much worse than this. Still, I doubt we'll be hearing from him for a while," Batman answered, then paused to look around at all of the diluted, yogurt-like brown mud, "He's got a lot of body mass to regenerate."
There was the echo of fire sirens in the distance, and with an unannounced sputtering, the erupting water main thinned and suddenly died as the city's automatic shutoff system disconnected it.
The shower stopped moments afterward, and Batman spun around quickly, the water splashing off of his cape.
Those piercing eyes were directed at Ben.
Ben stood frozen as Batman stormed right over to him and stood right in his face, boring him down with the force of his gaze. Ben could only look away, and felt his pulse quicken in a measure of fear.
"Why did Clayface attack you?" Batman ordered.
"I-I, uh….d-don't…"Ben stammered, unable to find the right words.
"It's no coincidence that you were in Chinatown last week with Freeze and then here with Clayface tonight. Why?" Batman commanded in a forceful, growling tone that made Ben want to piss himself.
"I don't know, I swear," Ben burst out in hushed tones, still unable to meet Batman's gaze, "He just came in and attacked me. He told me that he wasn't here to kill me, but I don't remember why. Please…"
There was a moment of silence as Batman still towered over him.
Ben flinched, part of him expecting Batman to hurt him.
Instead, Batman turned on his heel and stormed back to the Batmobile, the canopy sliding open almost automatically.
"Robin," Batman growled.
The Boy Wonder joined him in getting into the sleek super car.
Ben regained his posture as they climbed into the Batmobile, and took a few steps toward the awesome, intimidating car.
Batman looked back at him intensely, a stern look on his face.
"We'll be watching. Go home, lock the door. Don't let anyone in, no matter who it is," Batman menaced.
"What if it's you guys at the door?" Ben squeaked impulsively.
Robin smiled faintly, giving Ben a slightly warmer look.
"We don't use doors," Robin answered.
The Batmobile's canopy slid closed with a metallic click, then with a snarling whine the jet exhaust lit up and the Batmobile zoomed off with a squealing of tires.
Ben was left there, muddy, soaking wet, and confused.
Atop a building at the corner of Fourth Street, a pair of men stood after having watched the scene that had just unfolded between the Dynamic Duo, Clayface, and Ben Edwards.
Both men had a rather bizarre look to them, in the way that made them look almost inhuman. The first man, who had been gleefully crouching at the edge of the roof for the entire time, was dressed in a rather flamboyant purple tuxedo. A drop into a large vat of industrial acid had bleached his skin white and his hair a garish green. This, along with the fact that his red-lipped mouth was fixed in a maniacal grin from ear to ear, made his face look rather like a clown's.
The second man, who had been standing farther back and watching in a much more patient and reserved manner, wore a custom-made, two-toned business suit. He, too, had been exposed to acid, which had horrifically scarred a perfectly symmetrical half of his face and hair, leaving the other half completely untouched. In his right hand was a novelty, two-headed silver dollar with one face perfect and the other face mutilated. As the two men waited on the roof, the man with half a face constantly flipped the coin, producing a faint, metallic whipping sound as it spun through the air and slapped into his hand.
As the Batmobile sped away below, the man with the clown face smiled bigger, then remarked in a high-pitched and yet somewhat guttural voice, "Lookie, Harv. Looks like Clayface won't be coming back to the office."
"We'll figure something out," the man with half a face remarked in a deep, growling voice, flipping his coin once more.
A moment passed as Ben Edwards began to walk back to the Robinson Park Terrace building, then the man with the clown face said, "Junior's still on the loose. Time to go play baby sitter."
"I guess so," the man with half a face answered.
"Hey, Harv…" the man with the clown face trailed off, "Whaddaya say I get a little one-on-one time with Junior?"
"Not a chance in Hell," the man with half a face growled.
"Oh, please, please, please, Harvey!" the man with the clown face whined, "Pretty please with sugar on top. Pretty please times a billion. I love kids. Not really, but I promise I'll bring him back with a smile on his face."
"The problem would be getting the smile off his face. Or finding a pulse," the man with half a face muttered.
"C'mon Harv!" the clown-face pleaded, "Why ya gots to keep a brother down?"
"You'd turn the building into a bloodbath. I know it. Even you know it. Don't try denying it, Clown," the man with half a face retorted, flipping his coin.
"You mean there's not one part of you that wants to let me have just a teensy bit of fun?" the clown-face begged.
"Not even half a part," the man with half a face smiled.
The clown-face's grin dropped for a moment, then returned as he had a brilliant idea.
"Oh, Haaarrrveyyyyy," the clown-face crooned, "I'll…flip you for it…"
The man with half a face lost his smile, and then looked down at the coin in his hand.
He grumbled something that sounded like a curse, and then rolled the coin across his knuckles, saying, "Good heads…you follow my lead and shut up. Bad heads--"
"—You wait here while I make the teenybopper giggle," the clown-face cut him off with a toothy smirk.
The man with half a face frowned as the clown moved closer and stared down at the coin.
"Deal," the man with half a face said, then he flipped the coin through the air.
Both men looked up as the coin whistled into the space above them, glinting as it caught the moonlight at the peak of it's trajectory, then began to fall back to earth.
The man with half a face moved to catch the falling coin—only to have the clown snatch it quickly out of the air and take off with a laugh.
"MADE YA LOOK! HA-HA!!" the clown screamed, dashing across the rooftop.
"CLOWN!!" the man with half a face bellowed, bolting after the clown.
Just as the clown reached the end of the fire escape, he turned around and appeared to wait for the man with two faces.
Just as the two-faced man was about to reach the thief, the clown threw the coin back across the roof.
With single-minded purposeness, the man with two faces made a panicked dash after the coin as it sailed through the air, hearing it land somewhere in the distance.
Frantically searching, the man with two faces finally found his beloved coin moments later, picking it up and feeling relief wash over him in an awesome wave.
As he rose back to his feet, the man with two faces saw the clown sprinting down the street, already halfway to the Robinson Park Terrace building.
With an irritated grumble and a roll of his eyes, the two faced man decided to just let him go.
"Stupid Clown," the two-faced man rumbled, flipping his coin once more.
He angrily grabbed it out of the air and opened his palm, revealing the scratched, mutilated, bad head of the coin.
With a final growl, the two-faced man said, "Whatever."
Ben began to towel off his moist body, after recently having gotten out of the shower to rid himself of the gratuitous dirt and moisture that had soiled him after the run-in with Clayface. It had been a very long, hot, relaxing shower, too.
With a sigh, Ben tossed the towel into his sink and strode naked to his closet, opening it up and quickly grabbing a pair of boxers.
Ben pulled them on, feeling gratitude for the simple pleasure of putting on underwear that wasn't soaked in living mud.
He then put on a charcoal grey Hollister polo shirt and a pair of frayed brown shorts, then walked out of his room and into his living room, preparing to turn on the television and try to forget about Clayface or Batman, or even Robin. This would be very hard to do with the kitchen still a mess from when Clayface had first come in, but Ben was going to try his hardest to just tune it out.
Right as Ben threw himself on the couch and reached for the remote, there came a loud, somehow obnoxious knock on the door, comprising of exactly two individual knocks.
Ben sat up and stared in the general direction of the door.
He remembered what Batman had said about not answering the door. But at least he could check the peephole.
Ben quietly got up and tiptoed from the living room to the kitchen, from the kitchen to the door, during which there was another pair of knocks.
Ben carefully aligned his right eye with the peephole and looked into it, only to see the hole completely dark and black, as if someone was holding their hand over the peephole.
There came another pair of hard knocks, and Ben instinctively called out, "Who's there?"
Almost immediately after, Ben cringed, having forgotten that he probably wasn't supposed to do that.
"Imagonna," a high-pitched and yet guttural voice answered from behind the door.
"What?" Ben stated in confusion.
"You're SUPPOSED to say 'Imagonna who?'!!" the voice barked indignantly from the other side.
"Imagonna who….?" Ben repeated in puzzlement.
Suddenly, there was a loud thunk and a shocking crunch of wood as the blade of an axe punched through the penthouse door, causing Ben to leap backwards in shock.
The axe blade was removed, and a single, sickly yellow eye stared at him through the crack in the door. Ben could only just make out what appeared to be skin as white as paper on the forehead above the eye.
"IMAGONNA CHOP YOU INTO PIECES WHEN I GET THROUGH THIS DOOR!!" the voice roared, "GET IT?! AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!"
Ben felt his heart stop as the axe smashed into the doorframe, and he saw the door beginning to come loose off its hinges.
Then he heard another howl of maniacal, high-pitched laughter, and it chilled him to the very core.
He knew that laugh.
Every man, woman and child in Gotham City knew that laugh.
