Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the Mad Hatter, the Ventriloquist or the Scarecrow. They belong to DC Comics and Warner Brothers. Nor do I own the poems used in this chapter. "Adventures of Isabel" belongs to Ogden Nash.
I would like to warn everyone that this chapter has language, violence and sexual content, though not enough to give it an "M" rating .
Yesterday the asylum had been so bleak that one would hardly know that December 25th was drawing near. Scarecrow now stepped into the lunchroom with an expression of shear disgust. Each table had an absurd assortment of Christmas decorations: papier-mâché Santas, cardboard gingerbread houses as well as other equally repellent knickknacks. It was like this every heinous holiday. Things would be dour until some bleeding heart do-gooder had to ruin it all by deciding that Arkham should be less like a prison and more like some bright and cheery institution. There were the types who watched one too many Christmas specials on television and were stupid enough to believe in all that good-will-towards-man tripe. Scarecrow grabbed his meal. He lifted up a tinselly strand of garland with the same repulsion of someone holding a worm and tossed it aside before taking his seat. Truthfully today's breakfast was better than their usual morning meal: scrambled eggs served with a few slices of bacon and toast. The Mad Hatter, sitting beside him, was happily sipping his orange juice. He looked as though was actually enjoying the revolting atmosphere. There was a ridiculous smile on the Englishman's face.
There were also bags underneath his bloodshot eyes.
"Not sleeping well?" Scarecrow asked in mock concern. The Mad Hatter bit into his buttered toast and said nothing. "You're not as clever as you think you are," he continued after looking around warily. "Just because the guards are thick enough not to know what the hell is going on doesn't mean the rest of us don't have a clue. We all know that you've been staying up all night and we all know that you're working on something."
The Mad Hatter grinned guiltily but denied nothing.
"So?" Scarecrow demanded edgily. "When will it be ready?"
"The time has come, the Walrus said-"
"Damn it, Tetch! You know that annoys me!" Of course he knew that annoyed him. That's why he did it, the infuriating little cockroach.
"I was able to snatch a guard's wristwatch when it slipped off," Jervis proceeded to boast after he too glanced around to see if there were any nearby guards. "The muttonhead never even noticed. And last night the March Hare returned that puzzle I had loaned her. I couldn't help noticing that it was slightly heavier than it was before and soon discovered that disassembled wires were buried underneath the pieces and-"
Scarecrow brandished an indignant hand. "Never mind all that! When will it be done?"
Jervis again spewed out some dratted Carroll poem. "When the moon is shining sulkily."
A surge of threats and curses distracted them both.
"Please, Mr. Scarface," Wesker begged after Scarface's angry outburst. "You've gotta eat something." He persistently raised a forkful of scrambled eggs to the puppet's mouth.
"I said I ain't eating that garbage!" Scarface kicked the tray aside; bacon and eggs fell onto the floor. "You like the grub so much? Then how 'bout you eat it?" Wesker's apology turned into a gasp of terror as Scarface snatched hold of his shirt collar. "I said eat it!" Wesker obediently set the puppet aside as he began to crawl around on all fours. He scooped up a handful of yellow egg and stared down at it, afraid to disobey Scarface's orders and yet hesitant to eat food from off an unclean floor. At last the Ventriloquist succumbed to his fears, shoved the eggs into his mouth and swallowed. The puppet cackled victoriously. "Yeah, tastes real good, don't it, Dummy?"
That was the only eventful thing that happened that morning.
Lunch came and went.
The March woman joined them that evening since the sexes were permitted to mingle during Christmas dinner. She and Wesker, engaged in conversation as they approached the table with their trays in hand, were actually behaving civilly towards one another. Of course, that was purely because Scarface wasn't there with them.
"I'm real sorry about the way my boss talks to you, Miss Harriet. There's nothing I can do to stop him." He proceeded to make excuses his own behavior by adding, "Mr. Scarface hasn't been sleeping well and he gets awfully grumpy." The old man sat down and gingerly rubbed his bruised forehead. "Maybe he'll be in a better mood when he wakes up from his nap. Oh, dear-" Wesker was now wringing his hands together. "Mr. Scarface won't be happy when he finds out that I've been apologizing for him. You won't say anything, will you?"
The March woman shook her head no, but other than that failed to respond to Wesker's question. She took a seat next to Scarecrow. Jonathon bristled in irritation. Sharing a table was one thing; sitting side-by-side was too much. She was the Hatter's pet and therefore it was his duty to control her. But unfortunately Jervis was still waiting in line. Jonathan shot an indignant glance towards the Ventriloquist as if expecting the old man to do something about it. Wesker only sighed unhappily; it was clear that he wished that Scarface was with him. Apparently Wesker felt that being abused was better than being alone.
Jonathan heard the March woman clear her throat, but ignored it. He was about to take a drink when her long fingers began to wrap themselves around his wrist. The Scarecrow tried to jerk his arm away. Water sloshed out of the plastic cup and he threw the March woman a look of cold belligerence. "Unhand me."
March was wise enough to comply. "I need to talk to you," she said. "I know that you don't like me." She pushed a handful of paper napkins towards him so that he could mop up the spilled drink. "But you need to listen to what I have to say."
Scarecrow shoved the napkins right back. "Dislike is an overstatement, child. I merely tolerate you." Imperiously, he added, "You want to talk to me? Well, what are you waiting for! Spit it out!"
"Tonight the guards are going to enter the Hatter's cell." She was moving her lips as little as possible. "When that happens, provoke me. Just be your hateful self."
"So, the guards are going to enter Tetch's cell, are they? And how is he going to make that happen?"
"He'll improvise," she answered in a tone of dedicated certainty.
Any form of elaboration was prevented by a pair of approaching guards. Jervis was now at the table and the March woman instantly moved away so that she could take her place at the Hatter's right-hand side. They all fell into their normal, everyday behavior as the guards continued to draw near. The Ventriloquist picked at his meal; the Hatter and the March woman jabbered about trifling things and, as always, the Scarecrow brooded.
"Enjoying your din-din?"
They unanimously became still.
"What about you, Johnny Boy," the guard continued while his smirking companion hovered within hearing range. "I hope you're eating- You need to fatten up." Jonathan yawned deliberately, but said nothing. "And as for you, Hattie-" he began to poorly imitate a Cockney accent -"too bad that there is no tea n' crumpets for you." Jervis smiled serenely. Disappointed by the lack of negative reaction, the guard began to circle the table. His eyes briefly rested on Wesker. Without Scarface, the old man's violent persona would remain dormant. Sensing that provoking the puppet-free Wesker would be ineffective, the guard diverted his attention towards the March woman.
"You know something, Sweetheart? You're cute looking." He leaned over her and shamelessly stared down at her chest. "Some of these women here… Desperate, you know. Eager for a little male companionship." He pressed himself against the back of her chair. The March woman tensed and her fingers curled like talons. "If you're interested-"
"She isn't," the Mad Hatter intervened starkly.
"-All you have to do is say the word." The guard bent down to adjust the napkin that laid crumpled in her lap. From afar it might have looked like a helpful act. But the guard's face was almost brushing against the March woman's neck; a strand of flurrying hair insinuated that he had blown into her ear. She made a sudden move as if to attack, but the Hatter interceded.
"Keep your temper," he warned urgently. He placed his hand on her arm in a silent display of ownership
The lunchroom suddenly echoed with high pitched shrieks. Some inmates had chosen that precise moment to get into a catfight. A heavily tattooed inmate that Scarecrow guessed was female and a middle-aged blonde were at each other's throats.
"Aw, shit," the guard grumbled as he straightened himself up. He mockingly saluted everyone at the table. "Well, folks, I hope you've had a jolly little Christmas. But," he added, sending the other guard a shifty grin, "the real fun's gonna take place tonight." They subsequently raced towards the far end of the lunchroom where the tattooed inmate was now pummeling the nearly unconscious blonde.
Jonathan had disregarded the guard's idle threat. Just a dimwitted goon attempting to sound intimidating.
That night he laid on his cot, as still as a corpse in a coffin, smiling because every now and then some madman's scream would reverberate throughout the asylum. Occasionally a few of the more deranged inmates would turn their fury onto themselves during the night. They would bite into their flesh and rake open their faces with their nails. They would scream and plead, unaware that they were the ones inflicting the damage. And then came the sound of approaching footsteps, a faint, but distinct, clomp, clomp, clomp. The Scarecrow tensely lifted his head. The guards were now making their rounds through C Block. Jonathan peered into Jervis's cell were a obscure form kept shifting about.
"Tapping at the windows, crying at the lock," the Scarecrow muttered. "Are the children in their beds for it's past ten o'clock."
Jervis must have heard them because his shadowy figure froze. He hurriedly approached his cot, but sat up instead of feigning sleep. Orbs of light began to bounce off the corridor walls as the guards entered their ward. There were only three of them. Jonathan watched beadily.
"Look, can we just get this over with?" The panicked voice clearly belonged to a rookie. "This place gives me the creeps."
"Hey, it's just part of the initiation. Every new guard must participate in a late night showing of Arkham's House of Freaks." He laughed. "Don't be such a wimp."
Scarecrow knew that voice. It was the same guy who hassled them during dinner.
"I don't recall you being so brave," said a third guard. "You just about pissed in your pants, remember?"
"Yeah, well, that's because Puke-Face was there," the second guard answered defensively. "Shit. There he was, flipping that damn coin of his, glaring at me like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to shoot me or strangle me. It's enough to scare the hell out of anyone." His insulted voice turned jaunty. "Too bad that there won't be much of a show tonight- Most of the more famous baddies are gone."
"What about Poison Ivy?" the rookie asked hopefully in spite of his apprehension.
"Nah, the plant lady escaped about two months ago. The crazy clown girl isn't here either. The only chick you'll get to see is that one who smacked the shit out of old man Williams."
"Come on, come on,' the third guard said. "We haven't got all night." His baton whacked loudly against the glass. "ALL RIGHT, FREAKS! CURTAIN TIME!"
He now cleared his throat and began to speak like a sideshow barker as the second guard pushed the rookie forward. "This is it! Gotham's most unhinged and unbalanced! See the Scarecrow!" The flashlight was now shining into his cell. "Jonathan Crane. Once a respected professor, fated to become the menacing monster you now see before you! Don't let his skinny frame fool you, my good man! Capable of creating ghastly hallucinations, this loathsome creature can make even the strongest man go down in defeat!"
The Scarecrow proudly smiled.
The rookie gulped as the second guard directed him towards Jervis's cell.
"Next, is the Mad Hatter," the third guard continued. "Hear the sad and tragic tale of Jervis Tetch! Doomed to fall in love with a coworker almost half his age. Spurned, he emerged as the Mad Hatter and created a warped fantasy land-"
"All in a desperate attempt to get laid," the second guard interrupted.
That put an end to the theatrical overtones. The guards, including the rookie, laughed, not noticing that the Mad Hatter had gotten up and was slowly advancing towards the glass with clenched fists. Amused, the Scarecrow propped himself up so that he could watch.
"You boorish sods," the Mad Hatter fumed. "Uncouth, loutish brutes! You…you… Argh!" Jervis's face screwed in pain and he slumped against the pane while gripping at his chest. He made a desperate attempt to stand up straight so that he could fling out one final insult. "…Vulgar pieces of grunge," he rasped. And then the Mad Hatter plummeted to the floor, desperately gulping for air and unleashing ragged breaths.
The hallway lights came on at once.
"Holy crap!" The guards hastily unlocked the door. "Don't do this. Not on my shift!" They rushed in and gathered round the Mad Hatter. Jonathon got out of bed and meandered towards the glass so that he could get a better view of the performance.
"What's happening?" a panic-stricken voice cried out. Scarecrow looked over and saw the March woman's form standing behind the glass barrier of her cell. "What's happening to Jervis?"
"He's having a heart attack," Jonathan answered with an indifferent shrug. Callously he added, "He's dying."
"No, he's not! He's not, he's not!"
"Yes, child," he purposefully goaded. "Your only friend is dying. Do you know what happens to inmates who die in Arkham?" He spryly crossed his arms and smiled. "Their bodies are dissected and their brains are removed because scientists love to get their greedy little hands on abnormal noggins such as the Hatter's-"
"March, don't listen to him! He's just trying to stir up shit!"
"Oh, but she knows that I'm speaking the truth. Isn't that right, child?"
"SHUT UP, CRANE! JUST SHUT THE HELL UP!"
"JERVIS!" March clawed at the glass. "Let me out! Let me out! Jervis!" She suddenly rammed into the pane, having the good sense to strike with the side of her body instead of her head. She tottered back clumsily, clutching her arm. For a moment it looked as though March was going to give up, but then she took a several paces back and bounded across her cell, slamming herself into the pane once again. And again. And again.
"MARCH! CALM YOUR ASS DOWN!" The second guard leaned over the gasping Mad Hatter as the third guard placed two fingers against Jervis's wrist. "He's not dying, is he? How's his pulse?" He was practically yelling because of the March woman's screams were now mingling with the loud thuds. "Shut up, March!" Another thud. Another scream. "Okay, that's it! You-" He was looking at the rookie. "Put her in a straitjacket before that crazy bitch knocks herself unconscious!"
"Straightjacket?" the rookie echoed helplessly.
Thud. Scream.
"In the closet, next to the staircase!"
"Oh! Right!" He exited the Hatter's cell.
"And then page the nurse and tell her to bring some sedatives!" the guard shouted after him.
"No," Tetch gasped and he feebly tried to rise. "No! Stay away from her."
"Calm down, calm down," the third guard said. "He's not going to hurt your little friend."
Jonathan flicked his eyes towards the Hare's cell. The rookie was now entering with the straightjacket clutched in his hands. The March woman looked at him and scurried to the corner of the cell while shrieking, "Isabel met a troublesome doctor. He punched and he poked her till he really shocked her."
The Scarecrow glanced back at the Hatter and saw that Jervis was again attempting to stand. His hands were still tightly rolled into fists. He tottered hazardously.
"Whoa! Easy there, Tetch, easy there," the third guard murmured. He reached out to hold him steady. "Come on, Tetch-" he swung the Mad Hatter's arm over his shoulder. "Let's take you down to the infirmary and-" A sharp crack came out of the March Woman's cell "-What the hell?"
"Hey, you all right in there?" the third guard called out to the rookie. There was no answer. Jervis fingers were slowly uncurling meanwhile. Something flesh-colored and cashew-sized was laying on the palm of his hand. "ARE YOU ALL RIGHT IN THERE?" The rookie still did not respond. Neither of the guards noticed that Jervis's hand was gradually inching closer to the man's head.
The Mad Hatter then took full advantage of their negligent blunder. He plunged the small object into the third guard's ear.
"Better go and check on him," the second guard continued, still oblivious to what was actually happening. "The dumb-ass obviously doesn't know what the hell he's doing."
The Scarecrow spoke up. "And neither do you, for that matter." The guard, used to his sneering remarks concerning the Arkham staff, merely smirked.
He was about to leave when he noticed that the Mad Hatter was no longer slouched over and gasping for breath. Jervis stood there, composed and serene, straightening his top hat. For a fraction of a moment the guard wore a dumbfounded expression. He glanced questioningly at his cohort as if waiting for an explanation. He seemed to think that perhaps this was a joke arranged between him and the Arkham inmate. Only the third guard stood wordlessly in front of the Mad Hatter like some mechanized bodyguard. Then the second guard appeared to understand and he wore an expression of pure terror. He attempted to reach his gun, only to be tackled by the mind controlled guard. The weapon skidded across the floor during their scuffle.
"I made a very beneficial discovery a while back," the Mad Hatter said conversationally as the guard was bodily thrown against the stone wall. "That mind control stimulates physical strength. Allow me to demonstrate." The manipulated guard slammed his fist into the second guard's face. "Enormously convenient, no?"
The March woman then strode into the cell, massaging her hand. Her face was still red from her little performance and there was a worried crease between her brows, but otherwise she was just as calm and collected as the Hatter.
"Ah," Jervis continued upon seeing her, "I couldn't have done this without the assistance of my industrious March Hare." He chivalrously stretched out his hand; March promptly stepped forward and laid her hand in his. He cast her a gracious smile. "By the way, m'dear, just how did you handle that inexperienced chap?"
"I boxed his ears," she answered readily. The Scarecrow again peered inside her cell. The unconscious rookie was laying on the floor, wearing the straightjacket that he had attempted to put her in. A trickle of blood ran out of his ear and down his neck. Strangely enough, she had also placed a pillow underneath his head as if to establish the fact that she wasn't quite ready to step over that fine line between morality and villainy.
"Well, m'dear, I must say that you performed splendidly." The Mad Hatter tilted up the chin of his compliant pet. "You've done well." March beamed a radiant smile, but the seriousness of the situation quickly put an end to her gloating.
"I wasn't prepared for three of them" Jervis went on, "and so I am very glad you took the initiative and- uh-uh-uh!" The second guard unexpectedly swooped for the gun. Jervis reacted by making his mind controlled pawn lunge forward in attack.
"Snap out of it!" the second guard screamed. "For the love of God, snap out of it!" He began to take swipes at his brainwashed assailant, even hitting him once or twice with the baton. His clouts were ineffective and soon the second guard was left dangling in the man's grasp, hanging there like a bird with one wing ensnared in a net. He winced as the Mad Hatter forced the third guard to tighten his grip. And then, just when it looked as though the bones were going to snap, the third guard punched him again in the face. He fell to the floor and almost immediately received a sharp kick in the stomach.
"You were quite disrespectful my dear friend this evening," Jervis chided. His tone was still icily polite, but a vengeful glint was gleaming in the Hatter's eyes. Even the Hare's restrained veneer was crumbling; her lips were twitching upwards and soon she was smiling smugly. "I think you should apologize."
The second guard looked up. His face was bloody and his noise had been reduced to a spongy mess. "Like hell I will. I don't apologize to freaks."
Jervis sighed. "I though perhaps a sound beating would have instilled some manners. I'm afraid I have no choice." The third guard lumbered forward and lifted the victim from off the floor.
The second guard changed his tune real quick. "Okay, okay! I'm sorry!" But it was too late. He let out a terrified whimper and desperately tried to pry off the third guard's fingers. He was then once again thrown up against the wall, face first. The man bounced off and landed in an unconscious heap.
"Now," said the Mad Hatter, "go and release Scarecrow." The mind controlled guard automatically obeyed the command.
"Yo, dirt-bags! What about me and Dummy here?"
"And release the Ventriloquist while you're at it."
"So…" Jonathan nonchalantly stepped out of his unlocked cell. "I presume I won't be seeing you for some time."
Jervis was grave. "Take care of yourself."
Scarecrow was never one for sentimental goodbyes. He nodded his head in acknowledgement towards his friend. "Hatter." And then, out of respect for the Mad Hatter, he turned halfway towards the March woman. "March Hare." She looked surprised but not unpleased by this.
The sirens began to blares and it became a deal of every man for himself. They sprinted out of Arkham and the deranged idiot whose cell was next the Mad Hatter's, who had been remarkably quiet until now, began to bellow like a bull, furious that he was being left behind.
Author's note: I'm sorry this took so long. I know that this chapter is ridiculously long, buy I seriously could not stop writing.