7.

~ Like ghosts that were once more given flesh , they came from the shadows. Descending from the ceilings and walls. Up from the floors. The ghouls grabbed the four men as the Architect screamed in unrestrained horror.

"Now, Now!" The Joker said soothingly. "The gentlemen are just going to retire to the study for cigars and brandy!" He told her. He maniacal laughter ringing out as Ariadne screamed Arthur's name.

She watched with wide eyes as the things that live in the shadow's pulled the men downward. The floors melting and swallowing them whole.

She watched Arthur and Wayne struggle violently. The Point Man, Extractor and Forger shooting at the monsters, their weapons having no effect. Blood like tar coming out of the bullet holes.

"Arthur!" She screamed over and over as the Joker wretched her away down into the haunted halls of Arkham. The men descending into their own hell.

~ The fiend was deceptively strong. She could feel a lean muscular body hidden under his clothing. He could hurt her, seriously if he wanted to. He tossed her around the room like a he was dancing with her. Even humming a little tune as he did so.

The shock of what she had seen, what was happening to her was wearing off. Her face stained with tears. Ugly and red. The Joker's horrible laughter was the only noise in the deserted operating theater.

"Well, I can see why Arthur likes you so much." He hummed. "A smart, pretty, independent woman. Your the whole package aren't you? But, you've been keeping little secrets from him haven't you? Worried about all those things that go bump in the night? Hum?" He pulled her close.

His smelly breath and disfiguring face pressed next to hers. He laughed as she tried to squirm away from him.

"Well here, there really are things that lurk in the dark. But don't worry. I won't let them hurt you." His voice was almost cartoonish. Unreal.

"Did I ever tell you how I got these scars?" He asked. Hugging her limp body next to him. "Hum?" he asked again when she didn't respond to him right away.

Ariadne was feeling a coldness grown in her core. Turning it's sharp claws over and over. Breaching itself out.

The Joker continued, as if he held her captivated attention.

"When I was a boy, I got bullied a lot. One day, they caught me after school. Beat me nearly to death." The Joker's voice weaving his newest story in overly garish inflections. Like he was telling a story to a child.

"So there I was. Bloody and hurting when one of the older boys held me down and decided to mark me for life." He said. The Joker pulled her face up to meet his. Showing off his poorly healed scars in the moonlight.

"He put the blade in my mouth and started sawing. Cutting and cutting. So that no matter what they did to me, I always had a smile on my face." he grinned.

His psychotic laughter ringing out as he threw her to the ground.

Instinct took over when she was released form the mad man's grasp. She scurried into the moon light provided by the spider wed skylight. Crouching as she watched him dance solo. His arms out stretched as if he still had a partner.

That same ravenous feeling clawing at her insides. Clawing to get out. Screeching.
"Lovely story." She said from her position on the floor. "But we both know that's not how you got those scars." Her voice was suddenly melodic. Beautiful and strong.

"You and I are unique, Ariadne." The Joker said. Her name sounded dirty on his lips. "Were not like those others you, me... Wayne." He seemed like a child with a filthy secret. Eager to share it with someone else.
"I never would have figured Bruce Wayne as the Batman." He said as Ariadne watched him wide eye. Not believing what he was saying. "In the dreams, all of your little secrets have spilled out for me to examine. Cobb's beautiful wife. What he did to her. The way she just fell off that ledge. Mr. Eames, getting in deep with the gambling. Why he needs to take these extraction jobs. Arthur, Oh the naughty things he thinks about you." The Joker's white make-up reflected brightly in the moonlight. Seeming to float in the shadows. "Would you like to know what he fantasizes?"

Ariadne's face was covered in shadows. She was no longer afraid of the dark. The clawing inside her brain had finally found it's way out.

She stood. Slowly. Her petite body stretched long and lean. The Joker stopped his dancing at seeing the curious sight before him.

A woman, tall and beautiful had replaced the small Architect. Her stunning face scared with stitches sewn in black thread. Her left eye dead and ghostly.

"Now that's very interesting." The Joker said not daring to take his eyes off her. His broken scared smile, twitching slightly.

"Would you like to know how I got these scars?" The Red Queen asked waving at her own marred face.

~ Down in his own privet hell, Bruce Wayne awoke.

Bats. They were everywhere. He had conquered his fear of bats years ago and felt empowered by them now.

The symbol. The symbol he used to defend Gotham was all around him. Floating in a black tornado of violent teeth and screams. They were vicious and ravenous. His own projections. His own army that would go into battle with him.

He could feel the strength returning to his body as he stood up. Strength like he had never felt before. His arms and legs no longer clad in a finally tailored suit. Not even in the heavy duty combat suit he wore one the streets of Gotham. His skin had turned to midnight black. Like an ink well. His muscles visible and defined. He was stronger in the dream, stronger then Batman could ever hope to be.

He took flight. As easily as the genesis of his childhood terror. With massive wings the color of pitch, he swooped upwards out of the cave and into the night.

He flew over a decrepit, haunted Gotham. Populated by zombies of projections. His eyes were perfectly attuned to the darkness. He could see everything, and it was beautiful. He could taste the air. The scent of the city. The stillness as no lights burned in the decimated city.

Nothing lived in Gotham now, only the ghouls and monsters that no longer had to hide. They no longer hide because the shadows and the darkness were all around them. They were safe to terrorize and feed on the helpless inhabitants of the city.

Bruce relished the thought. His wings stretching out further as he tasted the air. Catching the scent of a child. A little girl. Running and scared. He did not so much hear her, as tasted her. Like an horrible avenging angel, he fell out of the sky. Full of the beauty and grace that terrorize the most ardent of believers.

She was dressed in a pretty red dress. Her legs and arms covered in rail road tracks of black stitches. She was screaming, as the things from her own nightmares gave chase.

'She shouldn't have run.' Bruce thought as he flew into the ally. 'If you run, they have to chase you. It's their nature.' He saw the creatures hunting her. Blue skin, white teeth. Blood coming from their lips.

The Child, a small little girl, trying to get away. Lost in a maze that was Gotham.

As easily as plucking fruit from a low hanging tree, she was scooped off the streets and into his arms.

The Child's face was tear stained and her eyes wide as she could only look at he creature that held her now. He realized one of her eyes was dead. Ghostly. A fog over it that black stitches had crisis crossed against.

"What are you?" She whispered as they flew high into the air.

He tried to say his own name, but nothing would come out. He realized he couldn't speak. A rush of anger filled him as he wondered what he had become. This powerful, beautiful creature.

An angel, a monster.

For single solitary moment, he wanted to throw her down onto the hard earth. A fall from this height would surely kill her. Break her little body apart, make it easier for him to stop and feed on her flesh.

Bruce shook those thoughts from his head as he flew closer to the ground. An empty place where she had plenty of running room. A place she would be safe from the projections. If only for a little while.

She looked at him as he took flight again. Never saying another word to her.

He stretched his wings as far as he could and flew on an updraft. A wind that carried him all the way to Arkham.

His real prey awaited him.