AUTHOR'S NOTE: For those of you who also read "Yuki no Megami"...no chapter this week. Sorry...took me forever to finish this story.
It was shaping up to be an overcast day and snowing to boot when morning came. Such a thing naturally "delayed" what would be the normal time for sunrise. Yet somehow…perhaps due to being on the ocean…the sun gave enough glow through the clouds to see the island as the Batboat approached.
It definitely wasn't anything to look at from the ground. Nothing but a rocky atoll with high cliffs on all sides, like a pillar dropped from the heavens. Given the surrounding terrain, for it was by no means the only one of its kind in the area, it seemed as if it was the last remnant of a much larger island, but that the crashing waves and bitter storms had slowly "eaten away" at the sides until all that was left was an inaccessible barren piece of rock. The cliffs, at their lowest point, were a good 100 feet in the air. Batman could tell that much from the early morning light, and without the aid of his computer. At the moment, he couldn't see the larger ship that he had commissioned Red Robin to send here on auto-pilot. There seemed to be enough "crevasses" within the atoll to tuck it out of the way, which was exactly how Batman preferred it…not easily seen. There was a fairly decent "AI" in the ship to ensure that it would remain hidden, and it was responsive to incoming aircraft, but still…that boat had to have been there for days. Luckily, he got a beacon on his radar indicating the craft was docked on the far side.
He tapped into a Waynetech GPS satellite as he got nearer and tried to get a magnification of the top of the island. He could make out little besides a single entrance. Apparently most of the structure was underground, with only a small pad on top. Probably better for Labdaris. There was no way to tell there was any activity going on there, provided everything that came in was aircraft and it all "got in and out". He didn't see any structures like hangers either, indicating that even the military helicopter he encountered had to have just been running in and running out. It also meant there were no outer defenses to greet him. In truth, he doubted there was much in the way of military tech, helicopter notwithstanding. Most of whatever funds Labdaris had control over had to have been devoted to making the facility fully operational and the other technology. At any rate, he wasn't going to take chances.
As the Batboat keyed into a good location for "docking", and Batman confirmed it and began to deaccelerate, he gave himself one last look over. He was in the fully armed Batsuit now. With the reinforcement, he had little to fear from projectile darts "head on", although he knew he'd have to watch it in the case of "chinks" in his armor. He had no effective cure for what had hit Sophia, so he had to make sure to be careful and rely on what he was best at…striking first from the shadows. To that end, he had his normal compliment of smoke bombs, advanced batarangs, explosive gel, and fully functional EMP grenades with the full six foot radius in addition to his other "toys", including his communicator and decoder. Should the worst happen, he typed a few keys into the Batboat to start relaying messages back to the Batplane with his progress. He may have lacked a detailed blueprint of the facility, but he had attached his special sonar relay to his belt and his cowl had the built-in visor. He'd have a map of the facility in no time, with any luck.
A few moments later, the Batboat slowly came to a stop within one of the thinner rocky crags. It wasn't very hidden, but that didn't matter. He was striking now. A moment later, he pressed a few buttons, and the ship went on "sleep" mode as the cockpit slid open. As it did, the seat below him reconfigured to a flat surface, and pushed him out with it. With a bit of extra work on his part, he was soon rising into a standing position. The snow and wind whipped around him, but not even his cape seemed too disturbed as he rolled a bit on the waves.
From there, he looked up to the cliffs. It was still dark out, but with a flick of one of his gauntlet-mounted buttons, his cowl visor snapped down over his eyes and engaged in infrared, allowing him to make out the outline of the cliff even through the falling snow. An instant later, his grapple gun was out and aimed at an angle, meaning to pull him closer to the cliff from a horizontal standpoint. After taking a moment to set it to "overcalibrate", he fired the harpoon. It landed near the edge a moment later, and immediately yanked upward.
This was faster than what he was used to. He actually felt a jolt in his arm as he was practically launched into the air. The power was so great that he not only overshot his mark, but he was literally thrown up over the cliff the rest of the way. Luckily, he had to foresight to dock his ship close to the wind, so that when he snapped his cape open wide into glider mode a second later, it was rapidly caught and pushed him farther inland, more over the atoll. In fact, with the wind blowing the way it was, he probably could have sailed right clear to the other side if he wasn't careful. But used to buffeting winds, he merely let himself glide about 200 feet before he snapped his wings closed, and immediately dropped onto the rock for just the slightest "click" of a landing.
He crouched on doing so, but soon rose again and looked about. The atoll was mostly flat and even, but there was a concrete bunker entrance not far from him. Thick and formidable, it could probably have allowed a truck to squeeze in at one point, and it likely did to aid with construction. There were heavy metal doors, rusted and old, covering it, but nothing else. No padlocks or other defenses.
Batman's eyes narrowed before he began to approach the doors. He wasn't stupid enough to think that there wasn't some sort of security system spotting him even now. He could tell that easily enough by adjusting his visor to look for "signal heat". Yet it would take too long to pinpoint every single camera and sensor. He had a feeling Labdaris knew he was coming all along…especially after reading the files that Oracle had forwarded to him in the Batboat. That meant there was no time to waste. He had already spent far too much.
Reaching the doors, he nearly went for his gel, but tested them first. On seeing they weren't bolted, he hesitated only a moment, but then opened them up and stepped inside.
"Here's here."
The fist of the woman in black clenched. "Now or never. Begin the final therapy session."
Quinzell was shaken from her sleep by a sound of keys fumbling in a lock. After all, she had trained herself to "get up" at the sound of those…before men burst into her cell and started kicking her to "get up, you lazy maggot". For a number of days she would begin to whimper and recoil every time that happened. Yet now she just readily got up. About the time that Natalie started showing up, the abuse got worse, but her headaches subsided while she slept, at the bare minimum. Besides…having someone to talk to was a good feeling. It was kind of like how when Red would visit…
She kind of wished she was here now… Natalie told her that her body couldn't "take" the torture in the way they were doing it, so they relocated her to another facility. Over time, the others had been moved away too. There were only two inmates still in the current facility…herself and Mr. J.
At any rate, in spite of that, with the headaches clearing and someone treating her like a human being, Quinzell had managed to finally shake off her permanent state of fear and feel a bit more "clear-headed". She still cringed and whimpered at the beatings and "therapy", but she was getting better at times when she wasn't being subjected to that sort of thing. Hence, she fearfully turned her head up toward the door as she heard the lock turn, but she didn't immediately burst into tears.
However, she got a surprise a moment later when the door opened completely, revealing the shadow of someone she never expected to see…especially not opening her cell.
"…N…Natalie?"
"Shh!" The woman hushed before immediately running in. To the surprise of the woman, she was soon at her side and actually bringing a key to her chains. "Stay quiet! I've got to get you out of here and to the storage closet! I managed to swipe some of the vaccine for your virus, but they'll notice it's gone in no time!"
Quinzell blinked at this…even as she felt Natalie, hands quivering and trembling, manage to get a key in her right shackle lock and undo it…feeling the air on her wrist. "You're…you're bustin' me out of the joint?"
"I can't leave you here when I go…and I'm leaving right now." She answered as she quickly moved to her other hand, undid it, and then went for her legs. "I hope you're strong enough to walk, though…because the only way out is a long way…"
Coming a bit more alert, Harleen looked up. "What…what are you talking about, kid? I mean, I love that you're gettin' me out of here, but why-"
"You and the Joker aren't the only inmates here." Natalie answered as she quickly undid a leg cuff. "Now that they say that you're all 'lost causes'…they're bringing in more. Including people from Latvia. Including…" She hesitated a moment, then swallowed. "…My boyfriend."
As the last shackle came off, Quinzell's full attention was on Natalie. "You're boyfriend? You ain't mentioned a boyfriend before now…"
"He's…kind of…off and on…" Natalie nervously answered. "We…were 'on again' for a while before I came to work here…but…but then…" She trailed off.
Quinzell blinked. "…But then what?"
The woman shook her head. "It doesn't matter." She said as she reached out and took Harleen's hands, helping her up to her feet. "Let's just say I met up with him again three nights ago on a trip to the mainland. That's why I wasn't around for a while. And…um…well, we got in an argument…things happened…and…Dr. Labdaris caught wind of it and wanted him in here. But the doctor's crazy! He's gone to killing everyone! He even had three of the staff killed! I have to get out of here, Harleen…but…" She gulped as the other woman was on her feet, and began to lead her to the door.
"…But?" The woman asked.
"…But I can't leave you here." She answered softly. "I know you've done a lot of bad things, but…I always thought there was hope for you since the time we met. Even if you're not 'better'…I don't know what Labdaris will do to you if I leave you alone again for even a day. So I'm going to get you out of here…"
She soon led her up to the door. Quinzell, on her part, was dizzy and sick…and her thoughts were still rather "blurred"….but she realized she couldn't let this opportunity go by. This was her chance to get out of here. Who knew if the others had already met the same fate as Croc and Zsasz? Yet on realizing that, as they came close to the light and Natalie pressed against the side of the door and looked out, her mind clicked.
Mr. J! He's still in here!
I…I…
To Harleen's surprise…the thought she wanted to have…the thing she wanted to say…"I can't leave him here"…didn't come to mind. As much as she tried to focus on her love for him…all that came up was his constant abuse…his beatings…his attempted murders…
Yet as she tried to think, she stopped again at what she saw.
Now that Natalie was in the light, she noticed that where her wrist was exposed…a rather large, ugly bruise in the shape of a hand was present.
Not only that…one of her eyes was puffy.
"…Kid, what happened to-"
Natalie cut her off quickly, looking nervous that Quinzell even began to ask that question. "The coast is clear…but there's a catch. There's only one way out of this place: the doctor's landing. The same place the guards and specialists who are trained in psychiatry handle the 'minor' cases and refer them back to the doctor. That's the only route to the helicopter, and the helicopter is the only way off of Sheol. Now…they already know my face in that wing, but there's so many doctors spread out, and you're such a special case, that they don't know what you look like. So…I've got the coat and some of my old clothes, and I'm sure if I take a minute to clean you up…"
Quinzell blinked. "Hold on…what now?"
Natalie turned to her. "…You need to fake being a psychiatrist long enough for us to get out."
"Wha…what?!" The woman shouted back, forgetting her volume, and managing to think coherently. "Kid, I'm no doc!"
The attendant looked puzzled. "But…you used to be a psychiatrist…"
"A long time ago!" Quinzell whined. "I don't remember even one of my classes!"
"Please, Ms. Quinzell!" The woman pleaded. "It's the only way out! And…and…" She hesitated a moment, and then groaned. "…And I can't do this on my own! I'm scared! But I know you're bolder and braver than I am!"
Harleen hesitated. That…was odd. This was the first time she could ever recall someone saying they "needed her". It…was a strange sensation. Normally she needed Ivy's shoulder to cry on or Mr. J for some fun, but…the fact that this regular ol' girl was asking for her help, needing her help…it gave a strange feeling inside of her…
After a bit, in spite of being nervous, dizzy, and wobbling, Quinzell gave a sigh. "…I make no guarantees, but I'll give it a whirl…"
Natalie managed a small smile. "Thanks… This way!"
She soon headed outside of the cell. Quinzell followed only after a moment…for she noticed Natalie was limping a bit as she walked…
Edward Nigma was unceremoniously tossed into his cell this time…for a rather solid and painful impact. Considering his last therapy session, he wasn't exactly in the best of shape to "roll with it" or anything else. He merely smashed into the ground, jarring his long-since-bruised, possibly broken, chin, and soon heard the men snort behind him. They spoke in Latvian…but obviously didn't realize their inmate could translate every word they said.
"Should we chain him up?"
"Why bother?" The other snorted. "The idiot worm is going to be executed in three hours. He won't 'tunnel his way out' before then."
Nigma heard this, but remained limp and stiff as a board. With his strength gone, all he could do now was make himself "flaccid" to try and minimize impact damage. It had saved some bones in the past when dealing with the Batman, after all…although he was a bit too weak to give it the proper "focus" at this point in time. At any rate, he soon heard the men shift to the door. In moments, it shut, plunging him into darkness…but the visor from earlier was left open, leaving a single ray of light still shining into the cell as it was locked. The two guards moved forward a bit but didn't immediately leave.
"So why is the experiment ending?" They continued in their native language.
"Turns out the 'doctor' got cold feet. He wasn't even Labdaris. Just an actor hired by the real Labdaris. As for why that is…damned if I know. I don't even know who the real Labdaris is."
"Who cares so long as we get paid. Three more hours and we can leave this hell hole behind." The glance looked back to the cell. The man no doubt couldn't see into the darkness, but by now Nigma had turned his head just enough to look out, and kept his eye half-lidded, as if senseless, and watching. "Might as well just leave the rats in their cages. They either starve to death in there, escape to go to the surface and freeze, or the illness kills them. We don't have to lift a finger."
"Fine by me. I'm tired of seeing his ugly face…" The man snorted before walking on. Soon after, the fellow guard followed him.
Edward listened to the footsteps slowly fade…and then exhaled. So…this was how it ended. There was a time when he would have smiled smugly. When he would have said this was all part of his plan. When he would have enacted a brilliant strategy and gotten himself out of here. Yet he could think of nothing. He could do nothing. There was no way out of the cell…no "hacking magic" to pull…no "hand-made tools" to pick a lock…nothing. He realized he couldn't think of any way out of here. And realizing that…made him afraid. It made him more fearful than anything else in this place. He tried to tell himself his mind was just messed up…that he couldn't think straight…but he couldn't. He had now "imprinted" on the fact that he was a fool…that he didn't know the answers…that he didn't know anything. And it hurt…it hurt worse than anything the Batman had ever done by foiling him. He began to believe it…that he really was stupid…foolish…that he wasn't half the man he always thought he was… And if not that…then what was he? Bane had his strength, the Joker had his tricks, and even Two Face was able to intimidate the other crime lords…but what about him? Without his intelligence…what was he…?
Ironically, he almost found himself wanting to cry out for Nathan. It was childish…but he was the only one in this place who ever marveled at his intelligence…who was wowed every time he guessed a riddle that he thought was hard…the only one who made him feel "smart"…
On that note, he suddenly heard footsteps again. He wasn't "up and at them" at the moment, so he had no need to hide or conceal himself again…not that he really could given his physical condition without a "running start", but for now he just looked dully to the window, appearing to be limp once again.
A moment later, the footsteps grew loud enough to where they were right outside his cell. They sounded like a normal, calm gait…and soon he saw the head of someone familiar pass by: Nathan. However, the young man didn't stop to chat. He didn't even hesitate in his step as he walked right by…
And…as he did…his hand went up and casually tossed something into the cell. It landed only a few feet in front of Edward a moment later with a tinkle of metal.
Nigma blinked, but the man didn't stop for an explanation, and soon his footsteps were fading out of sight as well. Only when there was a moment of silence and the beaten man realized nothing else was coming did he turn himself around and slowly peel off the floor. He was beaten and sore, but he had mostly "taken" his latest round of therapy, being so used to it by now. Using that, he managed to pick himself up enough to crawl around and forward to where the metal hit. He couldn't see that well and his mind was a blur, so he had to reach out and fumble for it. A moment later, his hand clasped the object…
A metal key…with a small piece of paper wrapped around it.
Realizing that it had to be a note, Nigma crawled closer to the door. The top visor was still open, so he moved into the beam of light and held the key up to it. Sure enough, there was a scrap of paper there with pencil writing, and he quickly unraveled it and looked it over, finding the writing in English.
Down the hall. Left. Two crossings. Right. Go straight until the end. Start in ten minutes. Be careful.
The man blinked a bit. Was Nathan…breaking him out? A part of him was almost insulted…realizing that he had to rely on a total "rookie" to get out of this. However…a part of him forced himself to swallow his pride. There was no other way out of this. He had no idea that they were moving to execution…or worse, abandonment…out of the blue. He was fortunate enough to know the language they were speaking. He had to use that knowledge to get out of here…
As he moved to the door, grasping the key, knowing that these old locks could open from either side, however…he paused. He realized something. This whole time…he had been duped. Labdaris was never who he claimed to be. An imposter all along…likely someone who worked in Arkham Asylum. How else had they been able to get them all so easily? Odds are going back to Gotham City the true culprit would be waiting for them…watching them…perhaps even smiling and greeting them… An enigma to solve… A mystery challenge…
And yet…in spite of all of that…he found himself moving the key to the lock.
Do I really want to risk this? That virus is still inside me… I need to find a way to cure it… Nathan might get me back to Gotham City in time for Batman to devise something, but…but… Damn it! I'd have to rely on him next! And I want to know who did this! Who got the better of me! And how?!
Edward didn't know what to do…and he was torn… Part of him was able to move to actually escape…and told himself to try and ignore the mystery as much pain as it had caused him…while another part demanded he stay. So for now…he slowly turned the key in the lock to open the door…
Harvey Dent got a rather rude awakening. To be honest, if he hadn't spent the last few weeks outside of Gotham City, he would have thought nothing of it. But in his mind-addled state, between his headache, pain, and weakness…the sound of gunshots suddenly ripping down the hall only made him snap awake to attention. It wasn't long after that when he got another pounding headache as what sounded like a rather loud alarm began to blare in his ears. He didn't even know there were such things as alarms in this place…at least ones that weren't being used for sleep deprivation punishment…but he soon clutched his ears and writhed in pain, looking out angrily toward the door of what it could be.
Weak as he was from his latest torment, he forced himself to get up and stagger to his feet. He wasn't chained at the moment, so he began to approach the door with something of a hobble and a limp. Yet before he could reach the visor, the lights outside suddenly went dark. That was shocking enough as it was. After all, everything here was kept running by fire, not electricity. Dent reasoned they had to be using gaslights by now. He wondered what could have just cut it off…
He recoiled a moment later, hearing another series of gunshots. They were wild, crazy, and from, he could tell, a rather large caliber weapon. The echo was so loud that if it had been fired inside his cell it probably would have deafened him. As it was, he shot back and covered his ears, gritting his teeth and trying not to fall backward from the sudden noise and pain.
As a result, he was rather stunned when he heard a key in the lock of the door a moment later, and it flew open…revealing a surprising sight.
It was Joseph…covered with sweat…his clothes torn and dirty…shaking all over like a leaf…and holding a rather massive handgun in one hand and a syringe in the other.
Harvey blinked in astonishment. "…What the hell are you do-"
Joseph cut him off, rushing forward and putting the syringe in his hands. "H-H-Here, Mr. Dent. Take it. You have to stick it. I'm shaking too much. It should cure that virus in you. Hurry. We don't have long." He nervously looked back out the way he came. "I'm not sure if the one I shot is down…"
This only stunned the scarred man even more. "Sure he's down? What are you…"
Joseph looked back to him and cut him off again. "The Orderlies! Something took control of their programming! I don't know what…but there had to be a malfunction in central control! They're going ballistic! They're killing everyone! Look!"
He leaned back and pointed out the door. Dent hesitated, but then moved forward, reluctantly taking the syringe in spite of what the attendant said it was, and then looked out.
There were a few "dim" lights still on, in the form of pilot lights. It formed just enough illumination, along with some sparking, to see the twitching remains of one of the Orderlies, looking like it was trying to get up but was too heavily damaged to move. However…two guards, their bodies twisted "the wrong way", were also lying around it.
"It's got to be a terrorist or an escapee or something!" Joseph went on, gesturing around. "They killed the lights too! Those guys are just the first! They're moving everywhere! Crushing people…twisting their necks…ripping them apart…" He began to breathe heavier and harder as he said this, swallowing and trembling. "Oh god…he…he…he was looking…right at me…and I heard it…I heard it…"
Realizing that he was "going blank", Harvey, in spite of his shock at what happened, and his own weakened mental state, turned to him. He actually reached out and gave him a light slap on the cheek…gentle compared to things he had done in the past, but not just due to weakness.
"Snap out of it!" He shouted to him. "Man up! You fall apart now you'll end up like them!"
The young man swallowed, shaken by the blow, and shook his head. He panted once or twice, and then nodded. "Yeah…yeah, you're right… We've got to keep calm…" He looked back to him. "…Everyone upstairs is already dead. We…we might be the last two alive. I would be if I hadn't found this in the armory... We've got to get out before whoever's doing this closes the bulkheads or we're finished. I…I managed to get that syringe before they broke into the lab… It should cure you…but I only have the one gun…and…I never shot one before… I kind of 'went everywhere'…"
Dent hesitated a moment, looking at him. This young man had no nerve. He could tell. Guys like him he could break without even resorting to hired goons. He had to have gotten to this cell on luck alone. Wishy-washy wimps like him would normally disgust Dent…but he held. There was something about him…something about all their "times" together…that made him feel a little like "the old Harvey"… And to be honest, the thought of doing something "bad" at the moment still got him…
He exhaled, and finally held out his hand.
Joseph blinked, looking at it. "What are-"
"Coin."
"…Huh?"
"A coin, damnit! A quarter if you have it!" He snapped back. "My head's a mess and I need one!"
Joseph hesitated, but then swallowed and reached into his pocket. He fished around a moment later and produced one. He passed it over to him. Harvey took it…and, to be honest…almost felt sick. The thought of even flipping it brought back pain to his memory. He winced and even cringed. However, somehow, he managed to at least "toss" it into the air and catch it in his hand.
"Heads, you take the gun. Tails, you give it to me."
He opened his palm.
Tails it was.
"Hand it over."
The young man looked a bit nervous…but he also seemed to draw some hope or comfort from Dent. He was already looking to him nervously, his young look dependent on him for guidance now. He ended up handing over the weapon. Harvey took it and tucked it in his waistband, and then quickly began to pull up his sleeve.
"Hope you're right about this crap…" He said as he got the syringe ready.
Contrary to what people thought, Pamela Isley was still half human, both physically as well as from a mental standpoint. That meant when she was in this dark cell, in spite of her gnawing hunger and weakness, she needed sleep too. Truth be told, she had been feeling stronger for a while…until she had decided to use the toxin on Catherine. Whether she had been telling the truth…whether she really had planned on sparing her life once she was done with her…she honestly didn't know. But even that was an "improvement", she supposed…at least in the eyes of her captors. There was a time when she would have cradled Catherine's innocent, entranced face one last time before sending her into the jaws of a gigantic Venus Flytrap, and the last thing she would have heard in her entranced mind would have been Ivy calling out to the vine: "Bon Appetite." Now…she realized even if she brought herself to kill Catherine at one point…she'd make it quick and painless…assuming she even wanted to do it at all. The woman had saved her life. And as angry and sore as she was over the nasty burns she had on her body which hurt terribly even now…she realized it was better than death. One could always "regrow".
And because of that…in spite of her best efforts in her addled, tortured mind…she couldn't bring herself to hate that woman. Just like she couldn't bring herself to hate Harley either. There were, in fact, "apes" in the world she thought were "worth sparing". And so long underground…separated from her plants…constantly being tortured…she was thinking more and more along the lines of being "human" all the time. It was true…no "plant" would have stood up for Ivy unless she made it. It would have just "grown there" otherwise. Catherine did…
…I'm not even calling them my "babies" now…
And that's not horrifying me as much as it should…
Before she could think any more on this, however…she got a rather nasty "awakening".
Abruptly…the door to her cell was blown inward to the tune of a gigantic, fiery explosion.
Isley quickly and instinctively slammed herself to the floor of her cell, but luckily for her the blast "twisted" the door so that it went over her. Otherwise she might have had part of her body caught behind it and the corresponding part ripped free from the rest of her. As it was…the metal door fractured the stonework behind her. What followed behind it was a deafening blast that nearly took out her eardrums, complete with flames and heat. Pamela actually cried out and recoiled, fresh pain from heat and shock enough to jar her to "life" and make her retreat for it. Yet as she pulled herself to her feet and looked out the open door, she gaped in shock.
The hallway was in flames. Large panels and sections of wall had been blown clean out and were burning steadily from pipes…indicating the true source of all of those torches she had been seeing. The entire facility had to run on natural gas interconnected throughout the walls. And now…it seemed as if one of the lines had burst. Perhaps more than one…because sirens were going out farther ahead…and screams were everywhere. To her surprise, an inflamed guard, screaming and trying in vain to put himself out, suddenly ran right past the now-open entrance to her cell. He didn't regard her in the least, naturally…and only staggered a few more feet before his screaming stopped and he collapsed on the floor. More screams quickly began to die out.
Pamela was stunned. She looked out the cell a moment, seeing fire wrapping through everything, and the entire facility rapidly beginning to fill with smoke. Whatever was combustible out there was going to burn soon. Already, her own cell was getting dangerously hot. She had no idea what had triggered this…but it seemed whatever had just caused that natural gas eruption had blown through most of the people guarding her wing, and whoever was left had to be burning to death. As she forced her legs underneath her and began to rise, she heard another powerful blast echo through the dungeon area, followed by more distant screams. More natural gas eruptions. Assuming she didn't burn to death soon with everyone else, the air would be gone in no time.
Even if she wasn't keen on escaping, that was her cue. Virus of no virus…either she would have to struggle to put down the pain and infection later or cook here. With that in mind, in spite of being thirsty, weak, and drained, she managed to stagger fully to her feet and started to hobble to the doorway.
Even as she went, the fire in the wall opposite her flared, and another explosion decimated the cell to her left as soon as she got out of the door. The heat was unbearable, especially in her current state, but the smoke was much worse. She began to cough…and she realized she didn't have much strength to keep doing that. Being immune to toxins was one thing…even poison gases. But smoke would smother her completely as it would eventually to any plant. It would just take a little longer than normal. She had to leave quick…
Yet as she stepped out, her mind clicked.
The plants!
There was at least one plant still in this facility. After all, they needed one for her therapy. And right now, with all of this fire…it could be dying. Maybe several of them dying. She had to get to them. Luckily, when she had briefly entranced Catherine, she had told her where the greenhouse was. It was a bit far off…but she had to try. She couldn't leave them to die in here. Besides…she might need them to escape as it was. And she had to hurry if she would make it in time…either for the plants, or for herself…
Quickly, she turned down a corner, covered her mouth, and went as fast as her weakened body could take her.
Jonathan Crane couldn't think too clearly at the moment. He was having a hard time focusing on anything, including what was going on. He couldn't stand what was happening. He could feel fear…yet he couldn't feel fear. That was the greatest confusion…the greatest contradiction. The thing keeping him from being able to make sense out of anything else. The physical abuse and torture he could deal with…but this was madness. What made things even worse was that the only time he felt like "himself", namely when Baxter was around, he couldn't bring himself to "scare" him. How could he? Even if he could torment him into suicide or at least a quivering mess…then he'd have nothing but the guards, the torture, and the darkness…nothing for him to "vent" himself upon. Then he'd really lose himself…
Stricken with the inability to use fear…yet surrounded by fear…being subjected to fear…yet unable to transmit fear… It was driving him mad… He was cringed on the floor now, twitching, struggling to think something coherent…to recall some of his brilliant theories from back in his university days…and coming up with nothing. How long had he been here? How long had he been made to feel fear instead of being an object of it? What was his body doing right now? Anticipating punishment? Was that the same as fear? Would it substitute? He didn't know… His head was "falling apart". He couldn't keep anything straight…
The door clicked. Someone rapped a knuckle on it. He turned and looked up from the floor, and saw the visor open, letting in the angry glare of a guard.
"Wake up, lazy slug." He snorted. "You'll receive your punishment now."
Crane blinked. …Punishment? For what? He had no idea…and honestly didn't remember one day to the next. Everything had "mashed together" in a blur at this point. Had he done something…?
At any rate, the door was unlocked…and soon a group of guards was walking into the cell. Not only that, but they had a gurney with them plus all of the restraints. They moved right up to the limp man, seized by the arms, forcefully "drug" him out of his curled up state, and began to hoist him to his feet as they started to undo his shackles.
"It took the doctor some time to find a suitable death for you." One snorted. "We finally found acid concentrated enough to bathe you in…"
Crane blinked, more of his senses and wits coming back to him. The result was shock. What was going on? As he got force to his limbs, however, his captors only held him tighter and forcefully undid the last of the shackles, before moving up over to the gurney. At that point, he realized what was happening. Although it seemed like years ago now…he was going to get the same punishment as Zsasz and Croc. He was going to meet a gruesome, slow death. And in spite of the fact he thought he had long since become immune to fear…that scared him. It made his heart race. His adrenaline being to pump. He looked around, his eyes growing more "alert" and "aware", but all he saw was himself surrounded by the four men. Blocking the way out. There was no escape. Even as he got the strength to fight, he realized it was irrelevant. He was going to die…
Yet just as they moved him into position…something happened.
A rumble, like an explosion, went out far overhead, and the guards snapped to it in surprise, especially as dust rained from the ceiling.
A moment later…the lights went totally out.
"What the-?!" Crane heard.
"Bloody hell!"
"Just hold the maggot! Make sure he doesn't get out!"
By now, Crane had been rather "cowed" and humbled. Most of his old instincts from his "sharper" days were gone. Besides…he really couldn't effect an escape from Arkham Asylum without his fear toxin. Yet in spite of that, he had "muscle memory"…and in his shattered mind the faint traces of techniques he used to use…the fact that he had walked every inch of this cell in pitch blackness and knew every corner and brick of it…the fact that he saw where all the men were and knew exactly what they would do and how they would move in a situation like this…
And knowing that he was going to die…fueled by fear…something in his brain "clicked".
Now! Now or never!
Moving lithely, he suddenly slipped back, ducked, and ran forward. He could feel the heat of two men on either side of him, but he went through so fluidly and smoothly, even in pitch-black darkness, that he didn't even brush their clothes. He didn't run for the exit. He ran for the side…for the wall…and pressed himself against it. Not making a sound, he slid back to the corner, away from the sounds of movement and flailing. Soon, he heard more voices.
"What…he's gone!"
"What?"
"I can't feel him in the gurney!"
"Find him! Now!"
"Doesn't anyone have a light?!"
"I do!"
Crane was patient. Frightened and addled as he was, he was growing bolder…more "used" to this. And as a result, he waited until he heard the footsteps part, the four men break for the walls of the room and one for the exit, and then shot back out and in their midst. He stood there silently, not making a sound, as he heard them fumble along the walls and look out in the hall. A moment later, he heard a click, and a flashlight turned on in the corridor. The man out there quickly swept it in either direction…while Crane moved to the backside of the wall adjacent to his door and stood there silently. Soon, the beam shone into the cell…and revealed nothing except the searching men.
Another eruption went out, shaking the whole place. The men looked up.
"The Russians? The Latvians?"
"They may be shutting us down…"
"Well, hurry and find him! I don't want that maggot running around while we escape!"
"He's not in the hall! He has to be in the cell still!"
The guard in the hall rushed in, meaning to sweep the light beam through the cell this time. However, Crane merely waited until he ran through the doorway…and then slid by him like a slip of paper on a breeze and rushed into the hall. After that, he ran as fast as he could while keeping silent down a blackened hall, to the tune of another eruption.
Darkness didn't scare him, after all. And this was his only chance to get out. Infected as he was, he had gotten a treatment recently. If he didn't try to escape now he might never get the chance…
The guards had a plan for the Batman.
Before they even lined up in the main hall, taking cover behind whatever columns and masonry braced it, each one armed with special "viral guns", they had cut the gaslights. The entire hall was pitch black. You couldn't see your hand in front of your own face…unless you had night-vision goggles, of course, which they all did. There were two dozen of them ready to fight. Although they made up half of who was "leftover" to handle any intruders, they were all armed, and two dozen Orderlies were with them, each one standing behind their "flesh and blood" companion and ready to fight. Each had night vision in operation too and was ready to move at a moment's notice. All they had to do was wait for him now.
In spite of the overwhelming advantage, the men were nervous. Most were from Eastern Europe but they heard tales of how the Batman had foiled one "ambush" after another in his career, even with seemingly only one entry point and escape. And even with their bodies rendered immune to pain, they still were fearful of what he might do. Handling helpless thugs was one thing…but a man who was practically a living ghost…who managed to hold his own against foes who gave the likes of Superman, the Green Lantern, and Wonder Woman a run for their money…
A noise was heard from up the stone stairway. The men looked up and readied themselves. They knew what was coming, if last time was any indication. Smoke bombs. However, they had him on the stairs. Even if they shot wildly, he couldn't "duck" on those. But even if he tried to "jump" down, there were men aiming for the floor. They had him covered this time. Everyone began to tighten on their triggers as they looked through the darkness, waiting for a form to appear at the top of the stairs. Waiting for the first move…
A moment later, a small sphere began to "bounce" down the stairs. They reacted and nearly fired…but then held. This must have been it…the smoke bomb. They let it go, instead focusing on the stairs again. They ignored again a moment later when two more spheres came down afterward. They figured it was more of the same. It was a big corridor, after all…
The first sphere hit bottom well before the others, and broke open. They expected a release of smoke.
Instead…a blinding flash went out.
"AAH!"
"Gah!"
The bodies might have been deadened to pain…but not from overload of sensory stimulus. A smoke bomb didn't go off…a brilliant flash did instead. One of Batman's "blinding" grenades…and to people looking at it through night vision goggles that were cheap, that didn't have protection against lens flares, their equipment soon went offline as they themselves were blinded. Crying out in pain, the guards reared back and began to tear off their goggles. All of them had suffered somewhat…but even those who had suffered only a little were powerless to do anything as the next two grenades landed…and erupted into true smoke bombs. Big ones too, almost immediately flooding the large corridor with vapor.
The ones in the lead, still quite blind, whipped out their guns to fire wildly, hoping to hit what they knew was coming…and were too late as darts flew into their necks, causing them to collapse. A moment later, a man cried out to the sound of an electric jolt, and then collapsed. Soon after, another one joined him. A brilliant flash went off a second later…shutting down a pair of Orderlies that had tried to converge on the noise.
Batman knew what he was doing now. He was back in his element…now that he had experience and was fully equipped. The attack had been a "one-two" punch. He knew full well the lights had to be out to hit him with night vision snipers…so he started with a flare to blind them and short-circuit the machinery, followed by smoke bombs to create a screen that the Orderlies couldn't see through. After that, his own infrared goggles on, ones high enough caliber that firefighters would use to see through a room full of smoke, he stormed into the area. Fully equipped, he opened with darts. But his gauntlets had also been charged with tasers this time. Whereas the guards may have been immune to pain, they weren't immune to having their neurotransmitters "reset". With that in mind, he was free to punch as well as fire darts as he stormed in.
The area itself was filled with stone columns and passages, and Batman moved in and around them freely. Because his opponents were using dart guns, they didn't even have the luxury of "bursts of light" from gunpowder. Soon, they were firing wildly in a vain attempt to hit him. Meanwhile, he made use of his grapple gun to shoot over the line of fire, and then dove on opponents, tackling two with one thrust and punching them with the tased gauntlets to knock them out. A moment later, he flung out two Batarangs to disarm two more on one side, and whirled around with his dart gun to knock out three others trying to find the source of the crying out. He stepped up and off of his current victims to allow his opponents to shoot the area where he was, and then fired off two more darts in their direction. Finally, having made enough "noise" to attract a trio of Orderlies, he whipped out his grapple gun and fired into the sky. As a fourth one joined them and they converged where he was, he shot to the ceiling while letting an EMP grenade fall beneath him, taking all four out in one shot.
In no time, the guards were panicking and shooting everywhere, while Batman continued to strike totally unseen. He would drop on one with his grapple gun who stood in the midst of companions, let him get out a cry, and then trick the guards into turning around and firing on each other. He would lure Orderlies into proximity of their companions and have them waist darts shooting the machine…and as soon as they paused to reload his gauntlet would come down and knock them out. They began to scream and cry out hysterically, but for all their panic and fear, it did them no good. In moments, every last one of them was done, and every last robot on their side was disabled.
As Batman punched the last one out while calmly rolling a grenade behind him to disable the last two Orderlies, he paused and looked around. His goggles had a wider range of vision than any one on the market, but no goggles provided the same range of vision as normal sight. However, there was nothing to see. He pressed a button on his gauntlet, and soon the readout changed, giving him a look of how much of the facility had been mapped so far by his sonar. To his surprise…not much. There were at least a dozen corridors leading out from this first main corridor, and they all trailed off until they were out of range. It was highly extensive…far more than any common asylum or what Batman had anticipated. Nevertheless, he was about to move on for the end, to see how much more he could get out of this first corridor…
When he heard a burst of static overhead. The sound of a PA system coming on.
An old man's voice spoke up.
"Hello, Batman. I know you can hear me. I've been waiting for you."
The dark knight froze, and looked into the sky. He saw no more movement. No drones or traps in the shadows…just the voice. He couldn't tell where from. The interior of the facility looked to be stone and masonry like a dungeon…but he knew better. He was in here somewhere…
At any rate, he soon removed another device from his belt: a spammer with wireless detection. He pulled it up and soon began to adjust the frequency.
"I knew you would come." The voice went on. "I knew I couldn't keep you away forever, no matter how well I covered my tracks. The fact that I managed to even keep you out of here for a month, honestly, surprises me. But I knew you'd be here…that you'd track them down eventually. There's been nothing else on your mind since I struck Arkham, has there been? Even the thought of a peaceful Gotham City made you uneasy and uncomfortable…as if something you expected…even 'needed'…was missing…and you had to get it back no matter what, wasn't it?"
A frequency was picked up. Very hot…coming from older cables that had to be built in the walls over areas of fake stone, similar to how the gasworks in this place was. It resonated with the words he was hearing.
Nevertheless…Batman turned up the range and kept scanning as he began to move again. He didn't go into a full run, but he was soon going at faster than a jogging pace as he continued to scan.
"I can see you, you know." The voice went on. "I can see everything here, even under the cover of darkness. I know you're looking for me. I can only say…good luck. This entire facility is a maze…rather like what Daedalus conceived…a prison as intricate as the human brain. Even I have a hard time getting around in it sometimes… But so long as you're coming for me…I wish to ask you something. Do you even know why you're here, Batman? Do you know why you tracked me so long and so far? Why you've been so desperate to save the inmates of Arkham Asylum? If you do…then by all means, enlighten me. I really want to know…"
Harleen didn't know what she was doing. She hadn't been this nervous in years. She felt like she was a cat in a room full of rocking chairs…and that the rocking chairs were being rocked by people who had hungry bulldogs in their laps and who practiced violin making as a profession. She didn't even know what to make of herself. Natalie had done a great job disguising her. She not only found everything she needed to look like a psychiatrist of the same ilk who had walked into Arkham Asylum all those years ago, but she even found a pair of fake glasses and quickly did her hair up in a bun to complete the illusion. She had to be honest…at least the glasses helped hide the fact that she felt ready to pass out. She barely remembered anything of psychology…
And…and…I look so…so weak…so small…so…
…Normal…
Right now, she was under the critical gaze of one of the other psychologists who had to have been brought in… Quinzell had no idea where Labdaris dragged these guys from, but he had all the look of one of her old college professors who would rip her papers to pieces. She almost thought she had forgotten her college days…along with everything else that happened before meeting Mr. J…but she found she was remembering it now. She tried hard not to look at the rough guards on either side of him, who seemed more like Russian thugs than attendants, as well as the towering Orderly behind him. Instead, she looked to the various plexiglass walled cells on the sides of her and the patients within. They weren't as "severe" as her case…but each one was being submitted to similar tortures. Just seeing it happen made the woman nervous. Luckily…Natalie was at her side. And although her physical condition honestly made Harleen nervous…she was glad she was there to back her up.
"I didn't really read anything about you transferring here…" The psychologist said critically. "Ms…." He was clearly looking for an answer.
"…Heartly! Dr. Heartly!" Natalie suddenly spoke up. "You see, she had to fill in for some of the people who were getting sick, and-"
"I don't recall asking you anything." The psychologist cut off with a tone both sharp and dismissive. He looked back to Harleen. "Surely you can speak for yourself, right?"
The woman swallowed. She couldn't believe the beads of sweat weren't visible as she plastered on a fake smile. "Uh…sure! I mean, yeah! I mean, yes sir! I mean…I'm a doctor! Yeah! No doubts there!"
The psychologist's eyes narrowed, as did those of the guards.
"I…I mean…I kind of graduated late, so…I'm kind of nervous…heh…" She continued. She couldn't believe herself. She had run directly up to cops firing bullets at her before and broke their bones. Why was she so scared now? Why did she feel so much like…like…how she was before?
A moment later, however, the psychologist exhaled.
"You sound American…and I understand Americans are lazy and idle, so I guess I can forgive that. But if you're really a doctor, then perhaps you can give your evaluation on Mr. Vaughn over here."
He turned and gestured to the nearest cell. Quinzell looked, and saw a man strapped down, some sort of "video player" strapped to his eyes, and electrodes giving him periodic shocks which made him cry out. Clearly being brainwashed.
"Mr. Vaughn here is a serial killer, but he also has gender issues. As you can see from how he's shaved his body and performed 'at-home' plastic surgery, he's been trying to make himself more feminine in appearance. He's been noted for murdering women he sees wearing alluring clothing…presumably to wear it himself. I say it's an open-and-shut case…just some psychotic transsexual willing to go to any means to 'look pretty', and I think his therapy should reflect the same by breaking him of these gender 'fantasies'."
For a moment, Quinzell looked nervously at him…when something in her brain clicked.
Wait a sec…I remember this… It's…it's so textbook…
"Maybe some drugs to counteract whatever hormone therapy he gave himself, but it might throw off his mood…" The psychologist continued. "Just sign off on it and I'll say I have a collaborator-"
"'Scuse me, doc…I mean…excuse me, doctor." Quinzell interjected. "I don't know how they do brain meds in Eastern Europe…but you're wrong."
The psychologist gave her a sharp glare. However, the woman shrugged. "There aren't any studies showing that transsexuals have higher incidence for being homicidal, psychotic, or violent. They may actually be less violent than the 'common' heterosexual. At the bare minimum, I think it's a mistake to try and latch his craziness onto it."
"Oh really?" The psychologist answered, his tone clearly biting and condemnatory. "And what exactly would an 'American Psychologist' have to say about that?"
In spite of her fear and weak state…Quinzell felt challenged by that. She actually drew herself up a bit more…and spoke a bit less "childishly" and more "adult".
"First off…I'd say that you should give a second look at his background. I'm willing to bet a hundred bucks he came from an isolated household with very little adult or parental contact. Solitary. Somewhere where he wouldn't be able to sample what it meant to have 'identity', gender or otherwise. Second, I'd say his upbringing probably involved abuse, particularly in making any decisions for himself or attraction to the opposite sex. Being beaten for doing things 'boys do' when they get attracted to girls. As a result, he didn't form an identity for himself growing up and thought it was wrong to be physically attracted to women. So he thought his attraction was purely for the 'trappings' of womanhood, of what attractive women looked like and did. This led him to think he was a transsexual and therefore needed to change his body accordingly. He's probably been to other doctors and LGBT alliances who've told him he wasn't, and that made him angry. So he went out and victimized women out of envy and tried to 'emulate them'. That makes this entire case one of envy over identity, not gender confusion."
Her eyes narrowed.
"Third…I've worked just as hard as you to get to be a psychologist, doctor. So I don't think it's too much to ask for a little respect for it and for my colleague here, got it?"
The psychologist was silent. His face was agape, unable to say or do anything. Harleen herself looked bold on the outside…but her heart was beating a mile a minute and she felt like there were ants under her skin. She thought she'd pass out at any moment. Even Natalie was nearly open-mouthed.
But after a time, the man relaxed.
"…Well, Dr. Heartly…I have to admit, you make good points." He said more quietly. "I'll look over his case again before progressing further with therapy. Good day."
He turned and began to walk on, taking the guards and the Orderly with him. As he left, Natalie looked to Harleen with an eager smile and a grin, making sure no one else in the room could see. As for the woman herself, she slowly calmed down, and only apoplectically began to walk again.
What…what the hell…was that?!
I don't know…
But…it felt kind of good…
Not risking an ambush, the four guards patrolling the corridor flushed themselves against the wall, prods out and already electrified, and sent the two Orderlies with them ahead. They watched and waited safely around the corner, expecting either some noise or signal of something going on, and ready to strike the moment anything came around the corner that wasn't an Orderly. Sure enough, they heard a burst of static a moment later, and expected it was another one of his EMP grenades. They braced themselves for a fight, waiting for him to come around…
Instead, they saw the form of an Orderly begin to walk around the corner. Seeing that made them pause. One of the machines was coming back? Too late did they realize it was the man himself "walking" one of the Orderlies back and using it as a shield. A bat-gauntleted hand snapped out a moment later and fired off a pair of darts into the lead two men, knocking them out instantly. The other two reacted in surprise, but then barreled straight for the Orderly and the man behind.
Batman was more than ready for them. Putting his dart gun away, he sprung out and advanced. As the first neared and reared back his prod to hit, he lashed out forward and elbowed him in the gut before punching him in the throat with a charged gauntlet. The "stop hit" kept the man from advancing anymore, and he quickly collapsed. The other man advanced more slowly, but he did no better as a foot shot out and smashed him in the face…also to the tune of a jolt of electricity. Apparently, he had tasers in those as well. As the two went down and joined their companions, Batman quickly went by, going for his spammer again. He soon pulled it out and gave it another reading.
As he suspected…while one signal was definitely the biggest and "hottest"…he detected a second one further ahead.
With that I mind, he adjusted a control on the spammer, opening an electromagnetic "pod" function on it similar to those used by electronic warfare weapons in the military. A moment later, it began to put out a counter-signal…jamming whatever equipment was around him from monitoring him. He assumed most of the cameras had to be wireless, in spite of the stone interior. It was the only way they could keep themselves from being visible through wires. After that, he keyed in on the new frequency and began to trace it, transmitting it to his head visor…
The voice continued.
"Tell me…do you know what the real definition of insanity is, sir? It's doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. Take a good look at yourself, Batman…and then look at me. Which one of us can you say was 'insane'? I know those doctors at Arkham were. I know just like I knew the doctors in Latvia and Russia were. They got no results…because they weren't willing to do what was necessary. There haven't been massive breakthroughs in psychology for a while for a good reason, Batman. It's because all of the major breakthroughs stopped when they started worrying about the subjects they were testing. But there are 'nuggets of gold' to be gleaned from those who are willing to take the extra step. And I did.
"You think I'm a monster…when the truth of the matter is I was the only one who really ever wanted to see these men and women 'well'. Those doctors didn't…and you didn't either. You all didn't because you weren't willing to do whatever was necessary. I was. I wanted to see these people cured. I wanted to see your city, not even in my native country, safe. I was willing to do anything and everything it took to make that happen. And for that…you brand me a monster. Tell me…which one of us is truly 'mad'?"
Edward Nigma had to stop. He was still infected…the virus making him weak. He had been treated not too long ago but he knew he only had two more hours before the pain returned. To his displeasure…he hoped that Nathan actually had accounted for that in this plan he had given him. At any rate, the cells that were unused were wide open. Likely to make sure an escapee wouldn't hide in them. With that in mind, he crawled into the nearest one and put his back to the wall. He took some deep breaths and relaxed. He needed his focus for this last part… Two more turns and it would be a straight shot…
Yet his mind continued to run.
Who could have done it? I can almost remember who gave me my meal that night…but that's irrelevant. It could have been any one of his toadies… He got the drugs in my food. Alright…so it may not have even been whoever brought me my food. It could have been in the kitchen. That would be easier…wouldn't it?
I don't know…I don't know…but it's driving me crazy… I have to know who it was! I have to solve this mystery! If I do…I'll prove that I was smarter all along! For all the insults! All the torture! I'll prove him wrong! I'll prove my intellect! Damnit…I have to!
To accent this, he made a fist and swung it against the wide-open metal door…and, to his shock, it made a loud clang.
Up the hall, around the turn, he heard a voice. "What was that?"
"It wasn't a rat, that's for sure…" Another answered.
Soon, footsteps began to approach. Edward went pale. He couldn't believe what he had just done… All of the insults began to resound in his head. All of the times he had been called foolish and stupid… He had just justified them. He was in the clear, and thanks to his 'craziness', he had blown his cover. The escape attempt was for nothing. He'd never get out of here now… He'd go back to his cell…and if he wasn't killed he'd be accused of being an idiot and a moron again and again…
Suddenly, one set of footsteps stopped. The other soon followed.
"What's wrong?"
"Someone's calling in from the helicopter bay. They say they hear something in the cabinets. They think someone's hiding in them."
There was a momentary pause. "…Isn't anyone else nearby?"
"We're closest."
Another pause. "…Fine. Let's check it out quick and head back."
Soon after, the footsteps went out again, this time away from Nigma and back down the hall. The man blinked and looked up for a moment, before he exhaled. He knew what that was without even thinking about it. No doubt…the "helicopter bay" was where he was headed. Nathan had to be there. And just now…he had saved him again. He wasn't sure how he knew about it. Perhaps he didn't…only knew those men would be there and so he had given them a distraction and the man a chance. Yet again…it had come from someone besides him. A situation he couldn't think outside of…and had subjected himself to. Another "failure" on his part…
And yet, in spite of how bad it felt…he thought more of his survival. More of the need to get out of this "hell". More of the need to find a cure. Weren't those things more important? More important than being the "smartest"? More important even than finding out who had done this to him?
He didn't know…and had no time to think about it. He had blown one opportunity. He got up and ran out before he blew this one as well.
Batman swept his cape in front of him, intercepting one of the darts, before darting forward and smashing the man in the face. The taser wasn't fully charged, but it was enough to stun him long enough to pull a dart from his belt and jab it into him, knocking him out and dropping him. Speed was important now. He didn't want who was responsible seeing him coming, either directly or by radio from one of the guards. He still hadn't seen any of the Arkham Inmates yet, even as he went down lower and lower tracing the signal, but he didn't mind that. He just had to find Labdaris first…
With that in mind, he took off down the nearest set of stairs, leaving another pile of guards behind him.
"What happens when a child needs a vaccine, Batman? They yell. They scream. They cry. They ignore your calls of 'it won't hurt', which you only say because you know full well it will hurt but you lie in order to keep your child from freaking out. And why? Because they need the shot. Now…people like those over in the asylum, well…to them, it's like seeing a person riddled with rabies, but rather than administer the vaccine while they still have time, they're too afraid of hurting the patient. It doesn't matter to them that the man is diseased, sick, on the point of death, and a threat to himself and others… They can't bear 'forcing' anything on him, even for his own good.
"People decide who lives and who dies every day, sir. Governments deciding where to send food and relief aid as well as military men… Commanders deciding where to risk their troops… Businesses who get cheap labor overseas… Parents wondering whether or not they short abort a child whose delivery might kill them… Cops wondering whether or not to risk a hostage's life by taking a shot… If a noble, decent, and awarded police officer who had a family of three and a hardened gang member, murderer, thug, and rapist were wheeled into an ER, both shot, both on the point of death…there would be those who would moan and complain if the doctor elected to operate on the police officer first, but even if the entire world said that the gang member deserved life over the officer…in the end, the world would be, quite simply, a better place for letting the officer live. It's not a question of morality, sir…it's a cold, hard fact. It's a fact that people like you and your society try to overlook. You don't want to do what is necessary to protect good and punish evil…you want to do what helps you 'sleep at night'. What makes you feel 'all warm and fuzzy inside'. And you don't care how much evil or death occurs as a result of it…so long as the blood isn't directly on your hands. Just on the hands of those who are here by your actions or lack thereof.
"Do you ever stop and think about how many people you've murdered by not killing these men and women long ago, Batman?"
Joseph, clearly frightened and anxious, followed behind Harvey Dent as he proceeded. The kid was shaking all over like a leaf. He looked like any moment some monster would jump out of the shadows and eat him alive. Dent had no idea how he had gotten himself in this mess…yet even now he couldn't feel "disgust" for the kid. Rather, in spite of the seriousness of the situation, he felt a sense of "accomplishment".
When was the last time he had actually helped someone? And not in one of those traditional criminal "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" manners…actually done something like this? He knew this kid would never get out of here alive on his own. He hadn't the strength. He hadn't the guts. A part of him wanted to tell Joseph to start "growing some balls" and sink or swim. After all, now wasn't the time to be a coward. Now was the time to live or die. To either whine and cringe or fight for your life. And yet, a part of him still felt sympathy. He knew what it was like to feel helpless…weak…frustrated. Especially frustrated…that you did everything "by the book" your whole life and then woke up one day to realize that those who "broke all the rules" won as many times as they lost. When the whole system of "law" and "justice" you upheld all these years just seemed to be a mockery. When that blind statue no longer held a scale but flipped a coin…
And, after the past few weeks…he realized a part of him hated that day. Even if he disagreed…a part of him wished his face had never been burnt off so he could keep living that delusion. After all…ignorance was bliss, right?
He heard a sound of gears, and suddenly an Orderly stepped out down the hall. Joseph nearly cried out. Harvey, on the other hand, raised the weapon. He had no idea where they were keeping these large firearms, but he didn't really care so long as they had enough pop to rip through the machine's padding. He didn't go for the head, but rather opened fire in the chest. It seemed "what they lacked in brains they made up for with heart", and soon he blew away the CPU in the chest. It went down with one shot.
He pulled the gun back and looked to Joseph. "Come on." He stated a bit sharply, before turning forward and moving again. Joseph swallowed, and then soon began to follow.
In no time, they came to a fork in the path. Harvey was feeling more and more "himself" after getting the injection. His strength was coming back a little, and his mind was clearer…but still he found himself hesitating. He looked to one side and then the other, and finally sighed as he reached for his pocket. A moment later, he came out with the coin and gave it a flip. It landed…tails again. He soon headed to the right.
"M…Mr. Dent…"
The voice was so quiet that Harvey ignored it. He kept walking down the hall, keeping his eyes open for more Orderlies. All he saw was another mangled body…
"Mr...Mr. Dent…?"
Sighing, he stopped and looked back. "What is it, kid?"
Joseph, cringing a bit and swallowing, pointed back the way they came. "The…the helicopter docking bay was the other way…"
Harvey glared at him a moment, his "bad eye" flaring a bit. "…And why the hell didn't you say that before I got out my coin?" He snapped.
"I'm sorry, sir! I'm sorry!" Joseph said as he recoiled. "I…I just got scared…"
"Grow up!" He snapped back. "You're like a damn rabbit! Well guess what? This world is full of wolves that eat rabbits like you for breakfast! Show some damn guts! Grow a spine!"
"I'm sorry!" He apologized again. "I…I just…it's just you look like you know what you're doing! Like you have everything in control! I just wanted to let you 'handle it'…"
"Is that what you plan to do with the rest of your life?" Dent shouted back as he began to walk past Joseph back to the break. "Just 'let other people tell you what to do'? Can't you think for yourself?"
Joseph was silent as he began to walk after the man from behind. However, after following only a few steps, he looked up.
"Well…how is 'flipping a coin' any better than that?" He ventured. "At least I'm following you…and I know you know better than me."
"…I'd watch your mouth, kid." Dent darkly answered.
The attendant swallowed, and quickly cringed again.
Yet as Harvey rounded the corner…he thought about that again. Thought about it in relation to everything else. He tended to think of chance as simply being "random", "neutral", "indivisible"…and "fair". Something a lot higher and more "powerful" than any "god", that was for sure. Something that didn't show so much regard for favoritism or tried to pretend there were imaginary things like "right" or "wrong". And yet…the fact of the matter was it didn't always seem absolute. It wasn't "chance" that had determined whether or not he had gotten this far. It boiled down to what he had decided. They hadn't given him food or water because he let fate decided…but because he made his own decision.
Was "chance" really any more of a foolish thing to believe in than a "god"?
"You see people die from clouds of plant poison…and you put a woman in jail. You see men, women, and children turned into grotesque works of art…and you put a man in jail. You see one horribly twisted grin after another…and you put a man in jail. You see eight psychopaths kidnapped…ones who you know full well will escape and kill again if you let them free…just as they have always done and always will…and you devote your life to tracking them down and bringing them back. Why? Why do you want them back in Gotham City so badly if you profess to hate what they do? Do you need them? Or have you grown so accustomed to stopping them that you don't know anything else?
"The truth is, Batman…you murdered every last one of their victims the day you realized they were never going to get better…yet you captured them anyway. Every innocent babe…every upstanding officer…even every thug they killed for 'sport' when they got bored after hiring them…every last drop of blood is on your conscience. You're a sickening hypocrite, sir. The way you don't want any of the blood of the unrighteous on your hands…but you're willing to shed gallons of the righteous through your inaction. I won't say you're evil…I'll say you're a child. An infant. One who prefers milk to solid food, for you crave what is pleasing and readily available over what is hard and necessary for maturity. The question of the 'morality' of keeping these men and women alive was decided years ago…any debate ended on it. And yet…you let them live. How many more people are you as good as shooting in the head by bringing them back to Gotham City? How many children will you leave fatherless and motherless? How many parents will you rob of their offspring?
"And yet…you think I'm the monster even now."
The ceiling down the hall behind Pamela rumbled. She didn't risk looking back…and a good thing too. As she staggered onward, the ceiling broke and sent a deluge of stone masonry and supports down, along with tons of dirt…severing off the passage she had come and casting up flaming ash behind her. She narrowly managed to dodge it, but even so the onrush of smoke made her dizzy. Staggering forward with renewed vigor, she rushed for the back as fast as she could, coughing more loudly as she did so. She felt weak and sick, but she had to press on. She soon turned a corner…
And saw nothing but flames on every side.
Another eruption sounded overhead…and the area rumbled as more debris fell somewhere else.
This whole place is underground… Isley realized. Maybe it's on a natural gas well… If it is…then this whole facility could be buried at any moment…and bury me with it…
The woman lowered to the ground, where the air was still "clear". She could filter out smoke, but her lungs were already "working overtime". She gasped in a few deep breaths, and then rose and took off down the flaming corridor. The ground began to shake, but she forced herself to run as more pieces of ceiling fell down, and raging fires erupted from the pipes in the wall. She felt herself nearly get singed as she rushed past, the fires rapidly expanding to the ceiling and the floor. Yet in spite of all of this…she looked around as she burst through the flaming corridor. All she saw, however, was a body or two already half burned away…impossible to identify.
What are you doing? She told herself. Stop focusing on them! They tortured you and tormented you! You need to get to the plant!
However, as she managed to burst out of that corridor, and leaned against a bit of cold stone, sighing and relaxing a moment…Pamela knew she wasn't looking for any guard. They could burn along with Labdaris for all she cared. She was looking, she realized…for Catherine. In spite of all of her thoughts to the contrary, in spite of her very nature telling her that the woman meant nothing to her and was just another voracious animal killing her children and loved ones…she didn't want her to die. She honestly, truly didn't want her to die. Whether it was out of obligation for what she had done for her or something more was unknown…but she found herself wishing, in her heart of hearts, that the woman wasn't among the dead. Truth be told…she hadn't heard anyone scream for a long time… However, she was still alive…and that meant others had to be alive…
Right?
Isley shook her head. She couldn't afford to waste much more time. At this rate, it would be all she could do to reach her babies and tell them to get to the surface. She was weakening from the smoke and heat and her already feeble state. And she wasn't even sure if she could make them "push to the surface". Not in this poor soil. And even if she could…if it was really icy tundra out there… What she really needed to do was take them to safety, but she wasn't sure if she could…
Yet at least I can die trying to save them…not waiting to burn or be crushed…
Pulling herself off the wall, she looked ahead and rushed into another smoke-filled corridor…bursting with more flame.
"What have I done that was so wrong, Batman? You needed those criminals out of Gotham City…I removed them. You needed them cured…I devoted all of my energy and knowledge to it. You needed them stopped for good to keep from hurting anyone else…I was committed to killing them if need be. I'm not a monster, Batman…I'm the city's savior. I put an end to the madness. I drew a line that they couldn't cross. All of you had let your lack of pragmatism elevate these men and women into 'god-like' status. You let it change them into specters who couldn't be killed. I introduced both to your city and to them how mortal they are. How flesh and blood they are. They thought they were immortal from all of your treatment of them…I showed them they're human. I taught them to fear punishment…to fear. I accomplished in a few weeks what you couldn't do in years. What your methods led to…one shattered life after another. How many allies have suffered from your inaction, Batman? How long as your city been a cesspool? And yet…you dare come in here trying to stop me.
"I am the hero of Gotham City, Batman…not you. I made a difference. A lasting difference. Where would the city be if you had died before this began? Right where it always was. Where is the city now because of me? In a happier place. Your doctors…your law officers…every last person who wants a future of security should follow my lead. Should take up a knife or a gun and make a stand…that they have had enough. Enough of your misplaced justice…enough of your skewed morality…and want to put this to an end."
Crane had to feel his way along before going far. He continued to hear clamor up and down various halls, but he could see nothing. Not even the glimmer of pilot lights. Even they had seemed to die out. If so…then he was kind of glad he didn't see any light. Without the pilots, there was a chance natural gas was leaking into the chamber he was walking through. At any rate, he was familiar with 'moving in the dark'. He used to put night vision goggles into his various scarecrow masks…but the "hum" of electronics not only gave him away, it also helped convey the idea that he was not really a nightmarish scarecrow but just a man in a disguise. So instead he had learned to echolocate. Obviously, a bat or moth was much better at it, but he had a keen ear for when his footsteps or contact caused an echo that gave him an idea of his surroundings. Enough to know his way around better than most people.
Suddenly, he heard gunshots from upstairs. Very fast, very rapid…signature 'double taps'. He stopped where he was and looked up. It seemed as if there was a fight of some sorts going on. Perhaps it was those men he had run into earlier. Another double-tap went out…following by yelling of deaths spasms. Someone had just gotten shot.
Light flickered far behind him.
A foreign language was shouted out, but it sounded, based on the nature, like ordering someone to come that way.
Hearing this, Crane quickly felt along for the nearest side chamber and slipped into it, pressing himself against the wall. Moments later, a beam of light came by and shone down the passage…obviously from a flashlight…and soon after a team of people ran by. Guards, each one armed with their basic weaponry for controlling patients rather than guns. They went on by, and so did the light. Soon both faded, and Jonathan was left behind.
He exhaled a bit. To be honest…the feeling of fear was 'good'. He had thought he was immune…but it seemed the therapy had 'cured' him of it. And here he thought he couldn't feel fear for anything, even bats, without the aid of his fear toxin. In that sense, he was indebted to Labdaris. To feel fear was to exist…just as to exist was to feel fear. He was just a shell of a man if he couldn't feel fear himself. And, to be honest, the more 'fear' he caused in others…the more he deadened his own sensation to it. Perhaps exposure to his own fear toxin had done it…perhaps his own modus operandi…but whatever the reason, he had become dead to fear and it was a result of his "career choice"… And as a result…he felt as if he was "dead" inside…
Yet now, weak, trembling, sick, and fumbling through the dark with his heart racing…he felt more "alive" than ever.
I'd almost want to thank Labdaris… I'll have to keep his therapy techniques in mind in the future…
He nearly stepped out…and snapped back a moment later as he heard gunshots ring out overhead. They weren't too far…only a few hundred feet and maybe right above the ceiling. No doubt, whoever had just run by had met their end. With that in mind, Crane stayed still for a bit. Perhaps he shouldn't venture out just yet. He had no idea who was running in 'shooting first and asking questions later', but simply running out in a situation like this was tantamount to suicide. For all he knew, whoever was shooting did have night vision goggles. They had taken the precaution of cutting the power, after all.
Suddenly, he heard a noise. It was farther away than the gunshots he had just heard, and was off to his right, but in spite of being faint, he heard it just the same.
A weak, fearful voice…crying for help.
He turned his head to it. For a moment, he thought he had imagined it. Yet a second later it rang out again, clearly the sound of someone calling. And now that he was focused on it, it definitely sounded scared. It wasn't the "tough-sounding" voices of the guards. It was of a more innocent, weak voice…one that Jonathan thought he had heard before.
Could it be…?
At any rate, he soon found himself leaning off the wall and beginning to head in the direction of the voice. Somewhat sounding terrified…and why not? Gunshots going off. Power gone. Comrades dying left and right. And now they were here…lost in the dark with the rats, bugs, and madmen. Anything could be down here. And it was such a maze, if you couldn't find your way out…you'd wander the dark until you died…
For some reason, the thought of it…the thought of that man's fear…wasn't making Crane grin as he expected. And to be honest, although he was walking toward that voice crying for help…he wasn't exactly sure what he was going to do when he got there. Before, he knew exactly what…back before all this had begun… He was going to see if he could make this man have a heart attack or, at minimum, bash their own heads in with the masonry with some skillful wordplay… But now…why was he headed that way?
"Yes, I hurt…maim…and kill…but I do so with purpose. With meaning. I know exactly what I'm about and why I do the things I do. Even the evil and wickedness I commit is not without purpose. But what of you, sir? What do you stand for? Do you even know? Can you tell me? I'm all ears, and the floor is yours-"
Abruptly, the door clicked.
At once, the masked and cloaked woman stopped talking into the combination loudspeaker/voice-synthesizer, which had distorted every word she said, as it had with the inmates before, to sound like an old man. Instead, in a snap, she reached down and seized a handmade remote, pieced together custom from parts that had been acquired both on the black market and conventional electronics stores, and put her hand down on a button, depressing it and holding it. She looked up a moment later as she felt a rush of air into the control room she was "holed up" inside…every wall lined with monitors supervising the remaining six patients.
Batman saw the remote in the figure's hand the moment he tore open the door. He didn't know what it was…but he knew immediately it had to be a 'trump card'. As he stepped over the threshold into this room, he saw the various monitors in operation all around him, clearly watching every nook and cranny of Sheol, but he didn't look at any of them. His eyes were fully ahead on the cloaked figure with his back to him. He had come in just in time to catch her last word…and with the door open outside, he easily heard that it was her who was speaking…just as he had assumed.
The first signal he traced had been a "red herring"…no doubt passed to a relay which sent it throughout the rest of the facility. The true signal had been coming from here. Obviously, the cloaked woman had been trying to delay him…get him going on a wild goose chase while she finished whatever she had planned. However, he had seen through it…just as Oracle's notes had helped him see through the final deception.
"That's enough…" He stated coldly. "…Sophia."
The figure visibly stiffened for a moment, showing surprise. However…it was only a moment. It relaxed soon after…and he heard just a ghost of a chuckle. One of the gloved hands went up and brushed back the hood, revealing smooth brown hair. A moment later, the figure turned fully around, facing Batman directly and holding up the remote clearly. When that happened, the hand went up and removed the mask.
She didn't look "innocent and sweet" anymore. Any trace of the "fairy princess" was gone. The eyes were mature…narrow…cunning like a viper's. The smile on her face was sly and seductive. Even the lines on her face seemed deeper…harder…darker…
But there was little mistaking who it was.
Sophia Layton.
"…'Sophia' is her name." The woman stated. "I prefer the name Sofjia. Helps to keep us 'distinct'." She reached up her free hand and brushed some of her hair back. "Tell me, Batman…how long have you known? Did Sophia 'talk in her sleep' during her fever dreams? Or before that?"
Batman kept his gaze narrow as he drew himself up, glaring hard at her.
"…I suspected it before we even met; the moment I went into your apartment. Two books were standing out. One was that book on virology. You only ever mentioned being a registered nurse. Virology isn't a required course or even a standard elective for Nursing School at Gotham University…but I knew that whoever had captured the inmates obviously knew a lot about virology. The other was the Latvian acting magazine. You had been out of Latvia for a while…but that magazine was only four months old."
"Sofjia" smiled a bit more, shaking her head. "…And after I told Sophia to put that up and away. A smart man like you can pick up on any clue, after all. You have no idea how hard it is to try and find a struggling actor desperate for money who nevertheless is 'good enough' and willing to go along with such a thing. I mean…what exactly do you say to him? 'Hello…would you be willing to pretend to be an old, sadistic doctor for anywhere from a few weeks to a few months? Working with actual madmen? I'll pay you 100,000 euros.' Thank god for starving actors willing to do anything for enough money… Anyway…so why didn't you bust me right then and there?"
"Doing so would solve nothing." Batman went on. "I needed you to lead me here. So I followed you to Latvia."
"You followed Sophia to Latvia."
Ignoring that, he went on. "Then you got stuck with the dart. I thought you were faking, to be honest. However, your fever was real. So were your swollen lymph nodes, your chills, your vomiting, and everything else. I analyzed you extensively to the best of my medical knowledge the first few days. You seemed to be honestly seriously ill."
"That's because Sophia was 'seriously ill'." Sofjia answered. "So sorry…but she had to be an unwilling participant. Don't feel bad taking care of her, sir. Rest assured…without you nursing her, she would most certainly have died out there…and so would I."
"…Which I began to suspect, and I figured that was too 'extreme'. That it couldn't be you. I considered that you might have been using a proxy or 'stand-in' until then…but if you died there'd be no further instructions."
"True. But you…you're as predictable as they are. I knew you wouldn't let Sophia die."
"You took a risk."
"And I risked her life as well as mine. But I was willing to go with it. They had enough instructions here to carry on without me for up to three months of therapy if need be, and I gave them 'final' instructions right within that very cab that you tailed me in within Riga. After that I 'went to sleep' for the next few weeks and let Sophia handle things. As for Red Robin...I wouldn't worry about him. The young man could barely keep his eyes open when we were in a safe, dark room with some comfy furnishings. He fell asleep...and I 'woke up' and snuck out. A small matter of calling one of the men here to pick me up in that helicopter that attacked you and Sophia, then 'beating you here' by several hours on a straight flight. Anyway…so I managed to clear your suspicions. Whatever changed your mind?"
"An old lead. I began to think you might try to implicate your 'mother'…as you had been silent about her until now. So I had Oracle look her up. Records were sparse, to be sure…but Oracle can find lots of scraps that have been left behind. She managed to hack into a disabled but not fully deleted personal records database from the Soviet Union. Your mother died during childbirth."
His eyes narrowed.
"…But I'm starting to realize that story about 'Polunocnica' was not entirely false."
Sofjia stared for a bit longer, and then smiled more. She took a deep breath and exhaled as she looked to the sky.
"…I had a bad case of the flu when I was five years old. Father didn't trust me alone or with the nanny. He knew there were great medical doctors at his facility. So he brought me there… Walking in, I saw every last one of those tortured patients, writhing like they were chained in Hell. At night, all I heard was their shouting and screaming. I was terrified…so very terrified…of every last bit of it. When I left that facility…I was a changed girl. I saw them whenever I closed my eyes. I heard them whenever I tried to sleep. Nightmare after nightmare…
"When I went to school, it wasn't long before I was the 'odd one out'. Years later I was still terrified. Still affected. I would sit quietly in corners. I would play by myself in the schoolyard. I would sit in the back corner. I would draw pictures of death and screaming psychopaths and be sent to the principal. And, of course, I was mocked. 'There's the freak girl'. 'Look at that bastard that the crazy doctor had'. 'I heard a crazy woman in the asylum gave birth to her and he's raising her like his daughter'. Dead animals left in my desk and lunch box… Rotten bird eggs thrown at me… I didn't mind all that so much…"
She began to frown.
"…I wasn't angry…I was jealous. I saw other girls drawing pictures of rabbits and unicorns. I saw them laughing and playing. I saw them smiling and happy…without a care in the world. And as I got older and more shunned and hated, still seeing the same nightmares, still hearing the same screams…I saw them so happy and carefree. I saw them run into the arms of young boyfriends and their loving parents. Me? I couldn't stand the sight of my father after that week. I was scared of everything. I couldn't sleep. And I wondered…why? Why did I have to suffer like this? Why couldn't I be like them? Why couldn't I be happy and carefree? Why did everything sweet and good about childhood turn to sour ash in my mouth? Why did I no longer enjoy the warmth of the sun or their love of parents? And I grew jealous…then hateful…then angry… I began to despise not only those women but any child I saw. Every smile on their face…every hop and skip…every little tea party or play time…it was a slap in my face and a mockery. I began to think children were sickening…so disgustingly innocent…so revoltingly pure…not knowing anything about life…about horror…about terror… I wanted to make them feel what I felt…I wanted them to endure what I endured…I wanted them to know what it was like to dwell in a living nightmare you couldn't wake up from…"
By now, her jaw was tightening…her eyes burning…but then she closed her eyes, exhaled, and then opened them again. A soft smile was on her face again as she shrugged.
"Well…the rest is history. I could go into detail about what exactly I did to some of my victims…but the truth is…it unsettles me too now. Attacking other human beings, that is. It didn't at the time, though. I can't believe, out of all the people who could have caught me, it was father who did it. He and his old KGB thug accomplices. I still remember the look on his face when he pulled off my mask. The horror… At the time, I grinned like the devil at him. I told him to 'give his sweet baby girl a kiss'."
Sofjia shuddered a bit here, bowing her head a little and bringing her free arm around her chest.
"…I know better now. My father did what he could. He was desperate to fight evil…to cure it…and he was willing to do whatever was necessary. He didn't know what happened to me. He didn't suspect how much it had hurt me. And could he? When he was struggling so much trying to fend off the Soviets and his old, angry patients… He didn't have time to wonder about why his little girl was having so many nightmares… But that look on his face…he knew now. He knew what had happened to me. He knew that the last legacy of his was to create a monster rather than rid the world of them. And I didn't care. I only wanted to drink more of his pain…for I had developed a hunger for it. And he…he only had one desire left. To undo his greatest mistake."
She exhaled. "…The men and women here thought their therapy was so terrible… I endured mine for nine months. Slowly, he broke me of my bloodlust…taught me empathy…showed me how flawed my thinking was…forced me to embrace the pain and fear that that week had given me. And, slowly…he helped me to get over it…to stop seeing children as objects to mutilate and see them as human beings… It was essentially 'advanced brainwashing', yes…but it worked. I began to become the 'old Sofjia' again. Even better…for now I smiled. Now I wasn't afraid of the sun or seeing laughter anymore…"
She hesitated, and then sighed.
"But…I wasn't what father 'had in mind'. You see, he had a delusion that I was his sweet, innocent little girl. That was who he wanted… a fake woman who never existed. So he subjected me to another round of therapy even worse than the first with greater brainwashing and behavior modification…trying to 'transform me' into someone new. And for a while…I thought he had. I thought I had faded…and my little sister, who was born from that therapy, had taken over. But no…she merely became 'fully dominant' for a while, while I…well…I just 'went to sleep' for a year or two."
"Sophia." Batman answered.
Sofjia looked up and smiled. "…Want to talk to her? I'll wake her up for you. Just a moment."
The dark-looking woman closed her eyes…and a change came over her. Her "dark lines" seemed to smooth. Her maturity "lessened". Her features grew softer and looser. After a moment, her eyes opened…and were totally innocent again. Batman was clearly looking at the woman he had been with for weeks. She blinked a few times, and then looked around fearfully.
"Where…where am I? I…"
She looked forward…and saw Batman staring darkly at her. She looked to the monitors…and swallowed. After that, she looked down to her clothing, and let out a gasp.
"This…this is…hers…"
He looked up soon after again to Batman. She swallowed, and began to tremble.
"I'm…I'm sorry, Batman. I can't ask you to forgive me…and I won't…but please…"
"You lied to me." He flatly stated.
The woman pulled her arm around herself as she began to tear. "I was scared…so scared… She…she's the stronger one of us… She always was… She was ever since I met her in Gotham City… I was just walking to the bathroom to brush my teeth…and there she was looking out the mirror at me. I…I had no idea who she was… I tried to tell her to go away…but she yelled at me…told me that I was the one who 'shouldn't be here'…and that she needed my help. She needed me to help finish my father's work…to make sure what he did to create me wouldn't be for nothing. And…and I love my father, Batman. I had to help him…help his memory… And so I asked what she wanted. And she said whenever she heard me calling, I just had to be willing to 'go to sleep' until she woke me up. I didn't know what that meant, but soon after, when I was sitting around reading, she told me: 'Sophia…go to sleep now'. So I did…and…then I woke up a bit later and I saw three hours had passed. That happened a while…but then finally the inmates vanished.
"I knew she was behind it…but said it was for our father. So even when you came by, even when she kept telling me to sleep every now and then, I thought it was for the best. But then you started telling me things…things only Sofjia knew and I didn't know about my father…and I started getting scared. I wanted to go to Latvia and find what she was doing, see if she was doing what I feared. But you wanted to come…and I was scared about what would happen. I was scared you'd ruin my father's memory. So I let you come… But when I found out about everything…I realized what she had to be doing. When I finally woke up from my illness, I tried to be 'quiet'. You see…I don't know what she does all the time, but she knows what I do most of the time. So I told you that story, and I thought really hard about it being my mother instead of her…and I thought it would work… And I wanted to stay behind, thinking it would be enough…but…but…"
She swallowed, and began to cry.
"Batman, I don't know what this thing in my hand does! I don't know why I'm holding the trigger and why I'm afraid to let it go! But please…stop her! I never wanted this! I swear I never wanted this! Please believe me! Please!"
Suddenly, she spasmed.
"No! I don't want to go back to sleep! Leave me alone!"
She winced, and began to cringe.
"Stop yelling at me! You said you're my older sister! Older sisters don't yell!"
Batman reacted to this. He nearly advanced, but before he could, Sophia suddenly went rigid…stiffened a moment…and then relaxed. Soon, she looked more mature and "dark" again…but also had a look of remorse on her face.
"…I really hate forcing Sophia to 'go to bed' like that. Hopefully, this will be the last time." Sofjia spoke a moment later. A small smile appeared on her face. "In spite of the fact that I didn't like that she 'supplanted' me at first...I've come around. She's a sweet child…everything my father always wanted in me. But…she's just a child. She cuddles with stuffed animals, for crying out loud. She only sees 'good' in everyone…including me. The world could use more people like her…which is why I'll 'go to sleep for good' soon and let her have this body. To be honest…I had such pleasant dreams when Sophia 'called the shots'. It made me a little sick at first…but then I realized I felt as warm and happy as I always wanted to when I was a child. I could feel all of her love and joy in my thoughts. I felt so safe and warm inside her…that I never wanted to wake up…"
Her smile faded.
"…But I had to. After all…Sophia was the one who had to endure all of the suspicion of the reporters and the authorities trying to find 'Polunocnica'. Saw them hounding our father day and night. Saw them never give him a moment's peace…" She paused. "…Who was the one who opened the door to his closet and found him with the belt around his neck hanging from the ceiling, that note taped to him. I immediately covered her eyes and yelled 'Go to bed!'…kept her from seeing any of the horror. A girl like that…so innocent…so pure…she deserves to be protected from horror, Batman. Innocence is such a fragile thing…and it must be guarded like the treasure it is. So…it was just me who was left there with my father. It was me reading his note…seeing how he had failed…seeing how his work had been invalidated…seeing himself as nothing but a failure to the world and to me…
"He didn't deserve that. He made mistakes…but did Oppenheimer hang himself for building the A-bomb? Or Nobel for inventing dynamite? They changed the world even if there were some 'horrors' attached. I had to preserve his legacy. I had to give him a future. So…while Sophia was sleeping…I gently whispered to her that she'd be happy studying in the USA…in the place where the 'worst of the worst' were…Gotham City…and that the inmates inside could use her sunny personality and kindness. After that, I went to sleep and waited. And…well…the rest is history. As for all of this…" She gestured around herself. "Well…it wasn't just for my father's methods that the Soviets and, later, the Russians hated him. He managed to appropriate a large amount of their money from them. Between that and volunteers, I was able to carry this all out. And yes…I am a bit of a prodigy when it comes to virology." She exhaled.
"…And that, Batman, brings us to the present."
The dark knight stood impassive. "…Your father failed. You're still a sociopath."
Sofjia's teeth clenched as her anger flared. "How dare you. Do you see me stringing up any children and their families for fun? I may be a killer, Batman…but I'm perfectly sane now. I don't hurt people anymore. I hurt subcreatures. And I do so for a reason. I may still have some of my 'old skills' from when I was Polunocnica, but I'm cured."
"I've heard enough." Batman stated. "Where are the inmates from Arkham?"
"Ah yes…" The woman sneered. "The only thing you really seem to care about. Well…I've got something to reveal to you. You're down to only six individuals to take back to Gotham City, Batman. Well…"
She smiled a bit.
"…Five and a half. Look to your left. Don't worry…I won't try anything."
Batman froze a moment. His gaze had been totally on Sofjia since he entered, expecting her to try something or do something. Especially after what "Sophia" had just told him. Slowly, he looked to the side, however, doing what she said. His gaze looked up to the screen on that side, and saw that it was focused in a cell that looked like it was made into a medical room of some sort. He also saw one man sitting in a wheelchair in the center of it. Due to being black and white, it took him a moment to make out not only what had happened to the man, but who it was.
Both clicked at the same time.
The dark knight, for once in his life, honestly looked shocked. He had imagined things like this before…but to actually see it… As much as he hated to admit it, this was something beyond what he thought would ever be reality. How he ever thought he'd see him…even after their worst battles…
Sofjia shrugged. "…I warned him. And I did every last bit. Breaking the hands was easy, as was putting them in a misshapen cast. They might be salvageable if you break them out and set them properly soon…but I'm betting some permanent damage was done. And he recovered from a gunshot to the knee…so I'm doubting I kept him from walking again if he's serviced face enough on the feet and ankles. The burns, of course…they will definitely scar, especially since I left them with chemicals. Same with the skin dye. And unless he gets some willing donors who wish to see his face frozen in that permanent grin…he won't be smiling ever again. Especially since I severed the nerves on the way in. Anyway…don't bother looking for what happened to Killer Croc or Victor Zsasz. They're already gone…and I swept up their remains."
Batman snapped back to her. His face tense, his jaw clenching. "You-"
Suddenly, Sofjia's face turned violent.
"Don't you dare call me a maniac, psychopath, or monster, Batman. Don't. You. Dare!" She viciously snapped back. She pointed a finger at him. "You haven't the right! Not the slightest damn right! How angry did you get the last time he gassed someone? How angry did you get on seeing officers lying dead with those grins on their faces? Or how angry when one of his victims had to wear a mask the rest of their life because of their acid-mangled faces? You dare to get angry at me, Batman…and you'll just confirm you're as big of a twisted psychopath as him. You let him get away with it. Scot free. For years. Don't you dare get indignant at me. Not for an instant. Don't take your self-righteous tone either. This isn't a matter of being moral or immoral. This isn't a matter of law or order. If you claim to have a soul…to be a living, breathing creature…at least some part of you looks at that mangled remain of a man and is happy that he can't hurt anyone else."
The dark knight was silent. His angry look slowly abated, and his face remained still. However, his gaze stayed locked on her. "You aren't his judge, jury, and executioner. You had no right to do that."
"I had every right to do it. His 'real' judge, jury, and executioner should have done that or worse to him, and instead they put him back in Arkham Asylum because a stack of legal papers said they had to because he met A, B, and C on a damned checklist. You shouldn't lecture me about obeying the law either, Batman…not when you realize it's a terrible slap in this face yourself. Why else are you standing before me dressed like a bat? Why else do you try to stop them in the first place? You know full well the 'problem' wasn't just in cops that looked the other way. It was in courts, politicians…everything. You 'held to the law' by depending on it to keep men like this off the street. They wouldn't even send him to prison…wouldn't even see him as a 'real criminal', when you knew full well the truth…he was a total monster. I'm doing what you and your legal system should have done a long time ago.
"Do you honestly think Waylon Jones was going to go to a job in an office one day? That you'd see him smiling and shopping for groceries? That you'd ask him how the game was or what his hobbies were? That Victor Zsasz was going to one day take vacations to the West Coast or go bicycling? That you'd shake hands at the movies and swap family stories? No! Neither you nor any other human being with a brain on this planet did! So why, oh why, did you let him live to hurt others? Why did you let any of these people live? And if you did decide to save them…why didn't you try absolutely everything and anything? Do you know why you give experimental treatments to the terminally ill, Batman? Because it doesn't matter if they die…they're already dead. This was a no-lose situation."
"Where are the others?" Batman demanded.
"Take a good look at the other monitors." Sofjia answered, lifting up and gesturing.
"I didn't ask what they're doing. I want to know where they are. Right now."
In response…the woman smiled and held up the remote.
"…See this, Batman? Do you want to know what happens to them if I take my thumb off this button for even an instant?"
The dark knight was silent.
Her smile faded. "…Then watch the monitors."
Batman hesitated. At the moment, he couldn't immediately think of a good move to make. Sofjia was watching him as keenly as he watched her. If he went for anything on his belt…she'd know. All she had to do was move her thumb…and whatever was on the other end would trigger. With that in mind, he slowly looked up to the monitors again, keeping the corner of his vision on her…
Quinzell couldn't believe it. They made it! She actually managed to pull off looking like a psychologist! She nearly wanted to pass out… She would have if not for the treatment she had received. And now…here it was! She and Natalie were safely in a hallway where, just ahead, she could see the outline of a military helicopter. It looked Russian made…but who cared! She had taught herself how to fly a while ago so she could be a bigger help to Mr. J…
Mr. J! I…I forgot all about him...again!
Yet on thinking that…Harleen realized she felt different. Until now, she had felt a bit…"empowered" over the past few minutes. The first patient was only one of five all together she gave opinions on. And, to her amazement…she was smart, calm, and collected. People were listening to her. After so long going after everything the Joker wanted, trying her best to be his helper, to earn his affection…and receiving abuse and torment for all of it…after having nearly been killed by him more than once…abandoned others…left with injuries that should have put her in a hospital…he still didn't really seem to "want" her…even after everything he said to her when they met…
She used to feel so free…so 'alive' when she was Harley Quinn. And a part of her still wanted it…but…for the first time in a long while, she was asking herself…why? What was she getting from it? What was the need she was trying to fill with it?
After the past few weeks…was that need still there?
"Ms. Quinzell…"
Shook from her thoughts, Harleen turned around. To her surprise, Natalie was cringing. She was holding back, looking anxious and tense. She had her arms around her middle and looked back the way they came. She swallowed, and then looked to her.
"Go…go on without me."
The woman blinked. "Huh? What'cha talking about, kid?"
"…My boyfriend is still in here." She said quietly. "And…and I can't leave him. Not to this. I have to go get him out."
She blinked. "Say what? Nat, we just got out of there!"
"I know…I know…but I have to go back and try to get him anyway." She began to turn and started to recoil…looking reluctant as she did so.
"Hey no, wait a second!" She immediately advanced. She became insistent. "Kid…I've seen what you look like…how you're walkin'…how you're trying to hide stuff from me…"
Natalie paled a bit, and then shook her head. "It's…it's nothing. I hurt myself…"
Harleen frowned. "…Let me guess. You 'fell down the stairs'? Stairs that have hand-shaped steps? You ain't foolin' anyone."
The girl shook her head and looked away. "I…I need to go. Goodbye, Ms. Quinzell. You can go on from here." She began to step away.
However, the other woman reached out a hand and put it on her shoulder. Immediately, Natalie winced in pain and writhed a bit. Obviously…a bruise had been hit.
"…Banged that shoulder up on a step too, didn't ya? You know…Labdaris might be a nut, but I don't think he puts people in here who ain't 'really bad'…"
"Please let go…" Natalie spoke softly, not looking to her.
"Nat…leave." Quinzell went on. "He did this to you, didn't he? And it ain't the first time, is it? It ain't gonna stop. I'm not saying that the doctor is doing what's right…but don't get yourself hurt or killed on his account. Don't get thrown in a cell like I was because-"
"You don't understand!" Natalie suddenly shouted, looking back to her. "None of you do! None of you see him the way I see him! Sure, he's loud and crazy sometimes…but that's just the way he is! He's really a good guy inside! He's sweet and fun and great!"
Quinzell began to frown at this. "Kid…if he was 'sweet' and 'fun' and 'great', he wouldn't do this to you…"
"He's like the Joker!"
Hearing that, Harleen's frown faded, turning to surprise. Natalie, tearing up, looked to her.
"He's just like him, isn't he, Ms. Quinzell? Look…you're going to go after him, aren't you? You're going to call the cops to come rescue him or use the helicopter, aren't you? Because you see it! You see he's really a great guy! You can look past everything he does and see what a great person he is underneath! How wonderful and nice he can be! Well…I see him the same way! Try to see him the way I do! Then let me go and let me try to be with him! I belong with him! Just like you belong with him! We were made for each other! I know we were! I love him!"
Harleen didn't answer. She didn't move. She didn't say a word. She merely stared and listened to this…and thought a long time…
After an eternity, for it was indeed a long corridor, Edward walked a bit further…and saw Nathan hunched near a wall, looking nervous and staring one way and another, swallowing and sweating as if he had just committed his first theft and expected police to spring out and arrest him at any moment. Yet when Nigma approached, he turned to him, and soon exhaled in relief.
"You made it! Great!" He spoke in a loud whisper as he got off the wall. "I heard what they were going to do! Labdaris is declaring the whole experiment a failure! He wants you all dead! So I'm smuggling you out! Come on!" He gestured ahead. "They're watching the helicopter bay, but there's a hidden boat dock just two floors down! No one's even guarding it! This is our chance to get out of here! We'll get to Latvia and you can get a flight home from there!"
He began to move on ahead down the hall as Nigma stopped. He got a few steps…but then paused. He noticed that he wasn't being followed. After that, he turned and looked to the man. He simply stood there and stared. Nathan blinked.
"…Well come on, Mr. Nigma. This is the way out."
He silently stared back.
The young man blinked. "…What's wrong?"
"…I can't leave."
The attendant looked confused. "Huh? Why?"
"Labdaris tricked you and me both, Nathan. He had me totally fooled. He made me think he was someone else this whole time. I want to find out his true identity. I want to find out who betrayed us back in Arkham Asylum." He paused, and then smiled and shrugged. "You know my love of riddles. I hate to let one rest. Thanks for busting me out, but I guess this is goodbye."
He turned around, meaning to go back down the hall…before a hand reached out and grabbed his wrist.
"What are you talking about?" Nathan responded. "You can't go back there! It's a miracle you got this far! They're planning on executing you soon! We don't have time! We have to go!"
Edward paused a moment…but then snickered. "…Sorry, but like I said…this is a mystery that needs a solution. If you please…" He began to move his hand away.
"No!" Nathan answered, only holding tighter.
Edward began to frown. "…Let me go, Nathan."
"Mr. Nigma, the escape is right here! You won't get another chance!"
"I said let me go. Now."
"Just get out of here while you can! This is your only shot! Who care about who Labdaris was? What does it matter?"
"It matters!" Nigma suddenly snapped, whirling around and glaring at Nathan wildly…enough to where he released the hand and recoiled a bit. He fumed at him. "Those damn guards…that damn doctor…again and again and again they've been calling me a fool…an idiot…taunting me with those bogus riddles…insulting my intelligence as much as possible! Mocking me! Laughing at me! I'm a genius, Nathan! And I'm going to let them all see it! I'm going to let them all know it! I have to know who was behind this! I have to prove I'm the smarter man! It's the principle!"
Nathan trembled a moment, seeing this sudden surge of emotion. But then, swallowing a bit, he frowned and firmed himself up.
"…I think you've got good in you, Mr. Nigma…but if there's any part of you that's really, really crazy…it's this right here." He stated. "I know you're a smart man. You're the cleverest man I know. Lots of people know that. But that's not 'enough' for you. You can't stand the fact that some people know things you don't. But don't you get it? Nobody knows everything! There's some things that some people just don't know! It doesn't make them less! It doesn't make them stupid! And insults and name calls don't make anything true! If you let this go…if you walk away right now…it won't 'prove' or 'disprove' anything! You'll still be a smart man! Just…be a 'brave' man right now and admit that there's one question out there you'll never know the answer to! Just like everyone else does!"
Some of the 'hardness' on Nigma's face had vanished. He stared at Nathan, making that stand in front of him, and was quiet…
The door slowly slid open…and, on the other side, in a special chamber with a metal hatch overhead that seemed to seal like a bulkhead…a Russian military helicopter set. Joseph, still shaking like a leaf and cringing, nevertheless inched in slowly and looked around. The area was silent and filled with shadows…but also empty save for the equipment and the vehicle. He slowly exhaled, and then looked behind him.
"…No one else made it…but there's no Orderlies in here either."
A second later, Dent walked in, still brandishing the gun. There was one bullet left in it at this point, and so he was rather glad that they had made it this far. Once inside, he quickly shut the metal door behind himself and Joseph. He turned and began to walk up to it, looking it up and over a moment. Soon after, the attendant began to walk up behind him. Once he reached his side, he looked up along with him at it.
"Um…you can fly…right?"
"…The pilot I hired a couple years back got knocked out and left me stranded during a job. I started learning how to fly the very next day. Pays to have a high skill set." Harvey answered.
Joseph, seeming to calm down a bit at that and straightening up, exhaled. Soon after, he slapped his palms together. "Great… In that case, let's get going. Normally I'd say we should stay behind to look for more survivors, but…I don't really think anyone else made it… And we wouldn't get farther without weapons anyway…" He began to step to the chopper.
Suddenly, a hand lashed out and put itself against his chest. The young man blinked and looked to the source…and found Harvey Dent staring back at him dully.
"…One more thing before that, kid." He stated darkly.
The young man looked a bit uneasy at hearing that. "Um…what's that?"
Forcefully, yet slowly, Dent pushed Joseph away from the helicopter and to his other side, so that he stood between him and the rest of the chamber. The young man looked curiously at this…and with a bit of anxiety. After all, Harvey only looked at him coldly, without any warmth or gentleness in his gaze. Soon he was off to one side. Once there, Dent stepped back, still holding the gun up, and reached out to cock the barrel.
After that…he lowered it and aimed it right at the young man's head.
Joseph looked shocked. "M…Mr. Dent…why-"
"Name of the game, kid." He simply answered as he went for the quarter. "Every guy I've ever hired to help bust me out of Arkham Asylum got the same deal. Double or nothing. When it came out double, I had to start off my current run 'in the hole'. When it came out nothing…well…there were bodies left in the cell with holes in their heads. You did me a nice little act of charity, kid…and you expect something back for it, don't you? You expect your new friend to give you a lift back to the mainland. Well…it's just as likely your new friend is a deranged psychopath who doesn't want the extra baggage."
The quarter came out.
"We'll let this decide for sure."
The young man was shocked. "…Mr. Dent…"
"Don't bother. Like I told you…chance is everything. Including whether or not friendship is reciprocated. It was nice talking to you in the cell. You really helped me keep my sanity. But this is where we part ways one way or another. Heads, you live. Tails, you die."
It was still hard to flip the coin. Hard to make a decision on it. Harvey had to grit his teeth just to toss it in the air, letting it flip a few times, and then land in his palm.
"I…I thought…I was your friend…" Joseph slowly said.
Dent paused for a long time as he kept his hands closed around the coin. He kept the gun aimed at him…but was quiet. "…You were, kid. And wishy washy as you were…you seemed like a nice guy." He slowly answered. "But this is bigger than me and you. It's out of my hands. Same as always." He began to open his fingers.
"…Then…please." The young man spoke again, causing him to stop. "…As your friend…I'm asking you to let me live."
Harvey sighed. "I already told you, kid. It's out of my hands."
"But it's not." He answered. He slowly gestured. "You're there. The gun is in your hand. The coin is in your hand. You can just let it fall…and it'll be over. We'll leave as friends…and that's it."
Dent stared back at him silently. He didn't move. Time slowly ticked by.
Joseph swallowed.
"…I think you're a good man, Mr. Dent. You were once…and you will be again. It's your choice. Not chance…not fate…you."
Harvey held a bit longer. Slowly…his fingers opened up. He didn't look to the coin right away…but finally his eyes drifted down to it.
Tails.
Finally!
Pamela was coughing loud now. Her eyes were burning. Her strength was giving out. However…she was here. Just up ahead, there were a pair of windowed doors. One led to a biology lab…but the other led to the indoor greenhouse. The woman felt weak…but she thought she could make it from here. In spite of the flames everywhere in the halls behind her, they were subsiding from this point on. She could get the plants and run for it. She might be able to make it…
The ceiling had already partially collapsed here, falling across the hallway on both sides and covering both doors. It looked pretty heavy…but she was pretty sure she could move it. Yet as she neared, she got another horrific surprise. Through the glass windows, she could see that both rooms were already filled with flames. The gas lines had to have broken in them already…and were covering them with fire… At any moment now, another "bubble" in the lines could fully engulf them…assuming they weren't already.
Picking up speed, her heart racing, Pamela ran up to the door and looked inside the one for the greenhouse.
There wasn't much in there. Just a few spots for watering and a "white lamp" to give them plenty of light…and already the entire place was filled with fire. The walls…the ceiling…all aflame. Two of the plants, to her horror, were already burning and unsalvageable. Only one remained, surrounded by deadly fire. The very plant they forced her to torture to feed that rabbit… She remembered it anywhere. At any moment, the fire could erupt and consume it…
Quickly, she began to reach for the debris. She had to get it aside…had to get in…had to save it…
"Ms. Isley! Help!"
Suddenly, Pamela looked up. She blinked, and turned around and received another shock.
Catherine was in the other room…the lab. Currently, she looked blackened and singed, coughing and choking. She was now pounding on the door for all she was worth, which wasn't much. She had to be weak from smoke inhalation, given the room she was in was covered with fire. She was struggling to open the door, but was already too weak to do so.
"Let me out! Please!" She begged. "I can't open the door!"
The woman wasn't sure why she was in there… Perhaps she had been going…for a vaccine? Maybe they had subjected her to the same virus as her? Or…or maybe she had actually been going for one for her? Or maybe just treatment for the burns she had received…which Pamela could see right now on her body…
Yet she didn't move, even as the woman continued to plead and bang on the door. She looked back to the greenhouse…to the innocent plant on the table…and then back to the other door…to the woman who would die if she didn't do something fast…
"Who…who's there?"
The voice was laced with fear and anxiety. Clearly terrified. Clearly trying its best to hold it together. It received no answer. Crane, from his position, merely stood there and looked into the dark. He could hear no more gunshots, rumbles, or anything else from here. All was darkness and silence. And he knew, Baxter was currently fumbling around it, struggling to find his way out. Lost…alone…and in the dark…the attendant who had been at his side through the past few weeks, giving him comfort and relief, was now scared out of his mind.
"Who's there?!"
Crane didn't smile. Normally, he would have…but he couldn't bring himself to do it this time. This was a gift wrap to him. He didn't need any fear toxin here. There were thousands of ways he could "milk" fear out of Baxter. So many came to mind with him just standing there…seeing how easy it would be…how simple… He could even kill him with his bare hands. After all, Baxter knew that Jonathan was a psychopath…how he had murdered many before him…how he had talked people into committing suicide. He was that much of a master of fear…
Yet why didn't he?
He didn't have a cure yet, to be sure. Getting momentary "pleasure" from drinking of Baxter's fear wouldn't change that fact. And yet, in spite of that…he couldn't quite bring himself to "get started". The ability to manipulate the fear of others…to dominate them with that fear, to gain control over their minds and wills by controlling their fear…nothing gave him more joy and satisfaction. And yet…everything that had happened over the past few weeks…everything that had transpired that he had to endure…the constant torture and conditioning to make him only feel fear and not want to cause it… He felt strangely…satisfied now. "Sated", one might say. A part of him said something different…something he never thought he'd think of…
Speak quietly and calmly to the young man…offer him your hand…and gently lead him out of the dark.
He couldn't believe it. It almost sickened him to think that such a thought would be in his head. Yet…it was there…as well as thoughts Baxter had given him…thoughts of him resuming psychology…publishing papers on all he had learned from his years as a super criminal…walking into Arkham Asylum as a doctor again and not a patient…
What to do…
Batman looked at all of these, and then back to Sofjia.
"Time to put up or shut up for my father's research, Batman." The woman stated. "I wanted to give them all months of therapy…but I don't have that luxury anymore. I'll just have to see if I was effective now. I've brought them to this point. Weeks of conditioning, brainwashing, empathy generation, and every aspect of their lives closely monitored and controlled…up until now. The final choice. The final test. Do they realize that there is the potential for good in them and embrace it…or do they cling to the evil they've loved for so long? None of those actors are in danger, mind you. All that matters is what they choose…if they see themselves as humans or as monsters.
"Of course…as I said…I vowed to keep society safe from them no matter what." She began to gesture around. "'Natalie' is one of the greatest young assassins in Eastern Europe as well as a talented actor. In Harleen Quinzell's weakened state, it will be easy to snap her neck. Edward Nigma set off a mine when he walked back toward 'Nathan'. If he goes back the way he came, it will go off 'Bouncing Betty' style and take off his head. As you probably guessed, Harvey Dent has been flipping a trick coin. I assumed he would make tails the 'bad decision' every time, and I was right. However, that gun he's using is modified to fire the last shot back at its user. He'll blow off his own head trying to shoot 'Joseph'. 'Catherine' is in no danger. But if Pamela Isley opens the door to the greenhouse the gas will erupt and engulf her in flame instantly. Crane is moving very well in the dark…but it seems even he isn't aware of the fact that Baxter is both wearing 'silent' night vision goggles and has a gun pointed at his head, and will fire the moment he tries to scare him."
"Sofjia…" Batman began to say, starting to advance.
"And…" The woman stated, causing the man to stop in his tracks. "The moment you make a step toward me, a hand toward your utility belt, or in any way, shape, or form look like you're trying to stop me…I release this trigger, which sends a signal to the lapels of their inmate uniforms, which are connected to small explosives powerful enough to open their carotid arteries and jugular veins based on where they're placed and which they all have been too addled and dazed to notice were put on them during therapy sessions days ago. Tell me, sir…do you have a plan to get around this?"
The dark knight didn't move, but he focused on her. "Sofjia…put it down. Put a stop to this. It's over."
"My guess is Sophia is going into a padded cell after this, isn't she? Such a pity…she really doesn't deserve to be in with these inmates…but maybe they'll fear her now at least…"
"This won't give your father notoriety. It won't prove anything. Not after the law is done looking at the aftermath."
"I'm at the point of no return, Batman. And in a few more moments, when they make decisions, it won't matter."
"It can. Put the remote down. If Sophia isn't a killer…and you don't want that to be your last reputation…which will be what truly ruins your father's legacy…then stop this."
Sofjia paused a moment, then snickered. "…I've already 'killed again', Batman. Croc and Zsasz…remember?"
"You weren't there." He answered. "It happened through your proxies. No one would ever believe a woman like Sophia ordered it."
The woman paused, and then raised an eyebrow. "…You're actually willing to cover for me? For those two? Well…I don't know what to say. Is it because you're starting to see me as a true 'supercriminal' that you're offering, Batman? Giving me some slack? Or deep down, in your heart of hearts, do you know what I know? That they were incurable? That I did the world a favor?"
He didn't answer. He had to keep thinking…keep talking…try to find a way out of this dilemma…a move to make…
After a time, Sofjia smiled softly.
"…I'll make you a deal, sir." She said slowly. "Give me one reason…one good reason…not to kill them now and be done with it…one reason to spare their lives…something that will convince me…and I'll do as you say and stop it. I'll let them all go. Just one."
The dark knight stared silently back. He didn't move a muscle…didn't say a word. His mind was operating a mile a minute…thinking hard about what his next move would be. It would likely be all he had time for.
"…I'm waiting." Sofjia cooed.
THE END
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Right now, if you're this far, you're probably shocked...thinking: "What, is that a typo? Is this really the end?"
It is.
For those of you who ever read "The Lady or the Tiger"...I did the same deal here. Just as the story ends when the man opens a door, I thought of ending here. To be honest...I wasn't sure how to end it. Do I have Batman whip out a last minute plan to stop Sofjia and save the surviving inmates? Or does he fail and they all get killed? If they live...do they go right back to their old ways? Do they get 'cured'? Do some of them revert and others 'go legit'? Does it last? What about Sofjia? Does she die getting stopped by Batman? Does she 'go quietly' to become an inmate of Arkham Asylum herself? Lastly...what would the readers like? What do they expect? For Batman to "repeat the cycle" of bringing them back to become inmates again? Does he finally "break" and leave them to Sofjia? Should he try and fail? I couldn't decide or agree one which ending was most appropriate...and so I left it up to the reader.
What do you think happened next?
I decided to actually have some fun with this. I'm willing to consider whatever ideas you have for the ending...how you personally would "end the story". I won't even mind whoever is a reader and a fan to actually write their own ending...but barring that I wouldn't mind a fairly "detailed synopsis" of what they think happened after this.
Who knows? After getting a few of them, I might publish multiple endings that all seem "good".
Anyway...see you later. :)