Bullock slowly woke. His head throbbed. Nothing strange about that. So he did not immediately recall where he was or what was going on. To add to his confusion, he heard a soft, feminine voice echo from his right.
"Good morning, sunshine."
Bullock blinked into the dim light, trying to locate the source of the voice. It was Fish. Of course it was. He would know her voice even through the worst hangovers. How much did he drink last night?
When he found that he could not move his arms, clarity began to return. He squinted in Fish's direction and, instead of finding himself being gently urged awake after another bender, he realized she had been trying to rouse him to join her in their current nightmare. He was sitting up, leaning against a wall, his hands bound behind him. Fish was standing, her arms tied to a wall at roughly shoulder height. She was no longer wearing her long coat and, other than a scrape on her shin, did not seem hurt.
"Fish..." he managed, the back of his head pounding, "... What happened?"
She pursed her lips and sighed, sounding more inconvenienced than afraid, "You mean after my little trinket decided to reappear? It would seem your killers showed up to claim it."
The room came into focus as she spoke. They were in some kind of tunnel, the arched ceiling barely visible. What was clear were the symbols drawn crudely on the old bricks. There was a depression running through the middle, ending at a broken down wooden barricade. Bullock guessed correctly that was the stop point of a rail line, though there was no way to tell for which train. There were dozens of old railroad tracks running under Gotham and its rivers.
Bullock turned back to Fish, "Did they hurt you?"
"Please," she replied with dark humor, then added when his concern did not abate, "Just a little banged up. Took three of them to get me into their van. Not before I got my own licks in. Amateurs, to be honest. I don't think they've done this sort of thing before..."
"You sound a little insulted," he said, testing the ropes around his wrists for weakness.
Fish shrugged, "I supposed I've become accustomed to the finer things. Or at least a bit of professional decorum."
Bullock shook his head and chuckled, before asking, "You think your boys are pros enough to track us down?"
With only the slightest hint of hesitation, Fish replied, "Not just my boys but our girl. They'll find us. But we may need to take out these maniacs before that..."
"Right," Bullock replied cynically, "Just get ourselves untied, take out a cult of homicidal loonies and meet your town car outside in time for the breakfast buffet at Lazy Lou's. Perfect."
Fish gave him an oddly warm smile and was about to speak again when a door to the far end of the tunnel slammed open. Six hooded figures in black lacquer masked exited. The one in the lead was holding a box and held it out to Fish when he neared.
After a string of gobbledygook Bullock assumed as the same language as the symbols, the head cultist finally announced in Gotham's common tongue.
"THE HOLDER OF SHALL BE OFFERED IN TRIBUTE TO PREMARACH!"
The other hood men cheered as their leader lay the box at Fish's feet. They all chanted more of their ancient crazy talk and walked back toward the door.
Bullock saw Fish looking in the box with a mix of disgust and anger.
"Do I wanna know?" he asked.
"Its my artifact," she replied simply, as blood began to seep out over the edges and trail up the walls.
Oswald exited Ms. Mooney's town car and clutched the glove box pistol in both hands. He, Gilzean and the librarian had arrived at an entrance to a long defunct train tunnel on the border of the Arkham district. They could not see the old asylum from where they parked but it was the destination of the old tracks. Gilzean wielded the shotgun as he joined Oswald and Selton outside the car. He handed the librarian a large silver flashlight.
"Welp," Butch announced, "This is it. Let's go..."
"M-mr. Gilzean," Oswald stammered with true fear as the larger man headed toward the tunnel, "Shouldn't we contact some of Ms. Mooney's other body guards? For... back up?"
"This ain't the GCPD," Butch said, still walking forward, "And besides anyone I call might not get here in time. If you can't hack it, then get lost. But don't bother showing your face any where in Gotham after that."
Oswald kept pace but ground his teeth. Confronting mad men down some dark hole for the sake of Fish Mooney was not something he wanted to do. But, if he stopped now, he would lose all the ground he had gained within Mooney and Don Falcone's circle of influence.
"Hang on," Selton said just before they entered the tunnel, "I have an idea of something that might help."
Butch did pause as the young woman spoke, Oswald nearly running into the large man's form. Selton removed the felt tip pen from her pocket and began drawing on her hand. She held up the resulting rune to show both men, who were watching her with puzzlement.
"The guy in the trunk flipped when he saw this symbol," she explained, "It's a counter to the ones he had drawn on his skin. It might make the others react the same way."
"I ain't into any crazy magic spell crap, kid," Butch said, shaking his head.
Selton shrugged, "Not saying it'll do anything magic. But maybe it might freak them out for a minute if we get in a tight spot."
"Good point," he said and held out his hand. Selton drew the same symbol on his palm and then turned toward Oswald.
Her skin was warm as she touched his arm and began to draw. Oswald then noticed for the first time that Selton's hands were red and chapped, small rows of blisters blotching her fingers. Holding the pen looked awkward as she finished the rune on his palm. Her hands had not been so injured earlier in the night when they were playing chess. Had her blast of fire in the alley done that?
Selton capped the pen, returned it to her pocket and gave him a nervous smile, "Better than nothing. Right?"
Oswald nodded but regarded the symbol doubtfully as he and Selton followed Gilzean into the dark passage.
The abandoned rail line was mostly dark; however, dim service lights still hummed every 15 feet or so along the wall. The metal rails were overgrown with moss and other plant life that thrived in dank, damp ground. The main sounds were dripping water and the echos of their footsteps but the high pitch squeal of rodents (rats or maybe bats) could also be heard.
Oswald would have been hard pressed to think of a worse place to be. He was going to need to have this suit laundered if he survived this farce. There was no way he was going to try to explain to his mother what happened to his fine clothes while he was ostensibly working at a night club.
After about ten minutes, Selton froze as the light from her torch focused on a bloody rune.
"Guess we're in the right place," Butch said, picking up his pace into a light jog. Oswald and Selton tried to keep up, being mindful of their steps along the moist floor.
From a short distance ahead, the sounds of voices began to chorus along the brick lined structure. Oswald could not understand what was being articulated but the rhythmic ugly words made his insides squirm with dread. Gilzean stopped by an open door and crouched, waving a hand at the other two to hold back.
Oswald saw the large man peer cautiously around the corner and inhale sharply with surprise.
"Fish?" Selton asked, "Is she...?"
"Alive," Butch said, then jerked his head toward the candle lit room and whispered, "Come on. Follow me."
They entered into a shorter tunnel which had turned off from the main tracks. It appeared to be an old way station for maintenance and emergency repairs, the arched shape disrupted only by a box like extrusion which Oswald guessed was the control room.
Near the center were a half dozen hooded figures in masks and one very unhappy looking Fish Mooney. His patroness was being held by a rope binding her arms to a make shift table... or altar, he supposed. There were numerous candles alight in circles around them. A top the altar was the damnable artifact that started all this trouble, continuing its revolting habit of bleeding everywhere. It was baffling how the cultists could have possibly got their hands on it since it had been locked away in Ms. Mooney's secret vault.
Butch guided the trio behind a stack of boxes, getting as close as he dared to survey the situation. From this vantage, they could see a new series of runes had been drawn on dirty paper and hung near where Fish was standing.
Oswald glanced at Selton and asked quietly, "Can you read that?"
"Uh huh," she acknowledged, looking anxious.
"Doesn't say anything good, does it?' Butch asked, his eyes narrow and assessing.
"Nope," she answered gloomily, shaking her head.
Butch repositioned his shot gun as if getting ready to make a move, "I guess 'welcome to our happy home' would've been too much to hope for."
Selton nodded and shrugged, "Yeah. It's more like 'Dear blood demon, We brought lunch, Hugs and Kisses, Crazy Cult Guys'."
"Blood demon?"Oswald repeated with a panicky whisper.
"Hugs and kisses?" Butch asked, sounding distastefully amused.
Selton lifted her head over the boxes slightly and asked, "Do you see Harvey?"
Gilzean gestured to a nearby corner with his gun, "There. Looks like he's alive but they got him tied up too."
"What do we do now?" Oswald asked, holding his own weapon tensely.
Before Butch could reply, one of the cult members began to speak intelligibly and they froze to listen.
Bullock was twisting again at his bound wrists as the cultists began their chant. It was clear they intended to sacrifice Fish to their crazy demon god and he felt utterly helpless to stop it. He jerked himself from side to side but only managed to move slightly to the right from his original position. He kicked in frustration and looked around, trying to find something he could use to free himself and save Fish.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted motion from the door leading out of the tunnel. He had never been happier to see Butch Gilzean's ugly mug in his life. He noticed the big man being trailed by Claire and Cobblepot and felt a twinge of unease. He had not wanted Claire to get tangled directly into the situation with these killers but it was too late now to correct his decision.
A moment later, Gilzean spotted him and indicated his location to the others. As the killers stopped chanting and spoke in English, Bullock returned his attention to them and their intended victim.
Fish Mooney stood next to the bloody altar in the center of the cultists and tapped her foot impatiently. She did not look afraid but her eyes were wary, watching her abductors carefully as they chanted their ridiculously verbose sermon. When the leader finally began to speak in a language she understood, Fish tilted her head and watched him with dramatic interest, as if she were fully invested in their mad ritual.
"Now we call to Premarach!" the leader said, "The holder shall claim this holy talisman and give herself to his dark embrace. Female! Do you so claim to be the holder of this stone?"
"Oh?" Fish replied with mock innocence, "You mean, this pretty thing? Why yes, darling, it's mine. It was bought and paid for."
The leader raised his arms and announced, "Behold! The admission of the holder! She shall be given as offering as we call upon Premarach to..."
His diatribe was interrupted by Fish's melodic laughter. Even though his face was mostly covered, the cultist's anger was apparent in his dark eyes. Bullock tensed and began to struggle again. He knew the glittering woman well and guessed what might happen next. A baseball bat was not Fish Mooney's only weapon.
"You..." the leader said, pointing at her, "You dare laugh at the great Premarach? Father of madness? Eater of souls? His power is endless and monstrous! Do you have any idea what he can do to you?"
"No," Fish replied, her voice deadly and cold, "And, honey, you have no idea what I can do. You and your little hooded pals are going to invoke a demon? Do you even know where you are? This is Gotham. This city is built on blood and darkness. And you think you're gonna bring a monster into my town?"
Fish held up one pointed nail as far as she could and ticked it back and forth, making her chiding tsk tsk noise.
"Tell you what, fellas," she offered to her dumbfounded captors, "Untie me now and maybe we can talk real Gotham business..."
The cult leader barked laughter, "Never! Never would we submit to a paltry mortal like you..."
Fish sighed, "Well, that is too bad..."
She leaned forward, alluring and seductive. As if he could not resist, the cult leader leaned in across the altar toward her. Fish's hands closed elegantly around one of the tall metal candle sticks.
"...because..." she purred, "In Gotham, the monsters are afraid of me."
In one quick motion, Fish swung the metal sconce upward, striking the cultist in the face. The force tore her bonds from the table and she stepped backward, wielding the bludgeon with deadly expertise.
As the other cultists sprang for her, Fish kicked aside more of the candles, causing fresh flames to creep up the wooden altar. She swung the metal stick side to side, grinning viciously.
Bullock spotted Gilzean get to his feet and open fire on the attackers. The sound of the shot gun was deafening in the enclosed space. Cobblepot was also shooting, though with less precision than his cohort. The detective felt hands upon his shoulders as Claire helped shift him upward. She untied his bonds quickly and he grabbed her to move back behind the stack of boxes.
As they ducked down, they found Cobblepot also taking cover having used up all his bullets. Fish and Butch seemed to be holding their own against the cultists, but the unholy zeal of the mad men gave them an unnatural stamina.
"Find a weapon!" Bullock ordered, picking up a jagged board and turning to join the fray.
Oswald followed the detective's order and looked around for something he could use to defend himself. The librarian did not, however, and was looking over the boxes with concern about the others. The flames from the overturned candles were spreading, creating an extra barrier to their escape. Oswald let out a cry of success and picked up a battered board. He tried to shift back toward Selton when he was knocked to the ground by one of the cultists.
With a cry of alarm, he skittered back away from the killer, who lunged forward with curled grabbing fingers. Over his left shoulder came another form and he found Claire Selton holding her hand out defensively in front of him. There was no fire this time, but the cultist reacted as if he had been burned.
"The rune," Selton said urgently, "Use the rune!"
Remembering her absurd suggestion, Oswald copied her motion and held his palm toward their attacker. The cultist flinched again, hesitant to approach the warding emblems. Oswald and Selton moved backward, until they were cornered near the position of their other comrades. The tunnel was beginning to fill with smoke, congesting his already taxed lungs.
"Claire!" Oswald heard Fish Mooney yell, pulling his attention away from their attacker.
The librarian was staring at the flames dumbly as Ms. Mooney approached their location. The cultists were closing in around them, some brandishing long knives.
"Claire!" Fish repeated, grabbing the young woman by the shoulder and shouting, "Can you make us a way out of here?"
Selton's face was white with fear but Fish held her gaze and urged forcefully.
"It's the only way out," Ms. Mooney said, "You can do this. We just need enough of a path to get out of here before..."
Fish was cut off by an impossibly loud shriek. All, captives and cultists, turned toward the remains of the altar.
Oswald stared with wide horrified eyes as the space above began to flux, the dark smoke coalescing into a distinct cloud. The pale stone was also fully ablaze, the runes pulsating with fiery light. The smoke seemed to stretch, bulging outward as if something was trying to push through.
The cult leader cried out in horror, "No! It cannot be! The dark one cannot come forward without a scarifice! KILL HER!"
The desperate mob lunged toward them, intent on Ms. Mooney. Oswald tried to ward off an attacker again with the rune but the action had no effect. He swung the board instead, making contact with the killer's head. Bullock and Gilzean also wrestled with the masked men, coughing as the smoke became denser.
"Claire!" Fish screamed, fighting with the cult leader, "Please! Do it now!"
Oswald saw Selton's expression shift from fear to determination. She shoved passed the cultists, earning a knife wound to her arm in the process. She ran toward the altar, disappearing into the roaring inferno.
The air in the room suddenly seemed to be sucked toward the center. Oswald had to steady himself against the wall to keep his footing. As in the alley, the room seemed to take on an eerie slow motion. The fire slowed its progress across the tunnel, the plumes of flame tempering to move like a viscous gel. The dark cloud shrieked again, as if in protest.
Taking advantage of the distraction, Oswald slammed the board in his hand down upon the closest attacker, knocking the man to the ground. Impossibly, a path was breaking through the fire, giving them away to reach the door. Fish urged them forward and they moved clear of the gang of cultists. The air around them seemed to move again, this time blasting outward, the force shoving them all against the far wall. The flames leaped upward, engulfing the smoking, demonic cloud, which imploded with another inhuman howl. Then, the fire subsided and the only thing left standing in the center of the tunnel was the librarian's slender form.
Bullock moved first, taking quick steps around debris to reach Selton. Oswald heard him speak as Gilzean pulled at the door to the main tunnel.
"Hey..." the detective asked, reaching toward the young woman before hesitating and asking, "Claire? You okay?"
The librarian turned her head toward Bullock, her face blank and pale. She gave the detective the slightest of nods. Oswald could see the glint of tears running down her sooty face. Bullock put an arm around Selton's shoulders and lead her quickly back toward their group. Gilzean jerked the door open and the wooden form fell apart in his hands, half crumbling to ash.
Before exiting the cursed room, Oswald took one look back toward the smoking ruin. Fish's stone artifact was no where to be seen.
Author's note: This kind of chapter is what happens when you've been binge watching both Gotham and Constantine. :)