ALL MIMSY WERE THE BOROBOVES
Chapter 14: A Dissection, The Witch Boy and Witnesses
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me!
Note: Thank you SOOOOO much for the kind reviews and messages! I really, truly appreciate it. It is always nice to know people are reading!
(I'm glad I'm not the only Bullock fan out there. I really liked "On Leather Wings." The guy's life makes me CRINGE, though. "A Bullet for Bullock" was painful.)
Jason Blood's study was silent and empty. He was in Central America.
On the table in the darkened room was a cloudy crystal ball…
Suddenly, the colours within the ball began to change. All on their own. The cloudiness began to move within the sphere in a foreboding manner. There was a pulse to it. Something was happening… or about to happen… And it was not good.
The study window quietly slid open and a cool breeze blew into the room. Pages of ancient spell books and manuscripts ruffled.
A shadow cast into the room.
"Show me the boy." A woman's voice spoke clearly.
Simultaneously, a bright light blasted throughout the room powerfully. And slowly, very slowly… a glass orb on a nearby top shelf began to glow. The orb – another crystal ball – levitated and gradually made its way down to the woman.
Its glow illuminated her face. Her eyes widened as she looked into the sphere of power.
Talia, daughter of Ra's Al Ghul, held up the powerful magical item she was using. She spoke in a very clear, confident voice: "Imprisoned, child, no longer be."
The crystal ball began to glow brighter than ever. It started to grow. And transform. Little by little, the form of a child appeared. A boy.
Talia held her breath and waited. She hoped she was not making a mistake.
Her father had absolutely refused to intervene in the Gotham crisis. He was adamant that the League of Shadows would play no part. In fact, he relished the idea of the city finally being destroyed. It was a rotten, diseased pit that had long needed to be eradicated.
But she still had feelings for Batman – who she knew to be Bruce Wayne – and her father's attitude about the situation enraged her. His disrespect for her was growing intolerable. She would prove to him once and for all she was just as capable as any son would have been!
When the light all subsided, the boy stood silently, staring at her darkly.
Talia, no stranger to the supernatural arts, had been aware of this child's captivity for some time now. He was known to possess powerful magic. With the ancient magical item she had stolen from her father, she was relatively sure she could harness his powers to her own advantage.
The boy had a soulless, frightening look to him. Very dark and cold. Totally unfeeling. And there was no mistaking him for a regular child! He was either possessed or… or… a demon or something… Something was very, very wrong with the boy.
"Klarion." She held up her magical item. "I have freed you and you are bound to me. You will obey my commands."
The boy's expression was totally unchanged. He didn't move. He didn't blink. He just stared at her as soullessly as ever.
"Klarion." She repeated, unnerved and trying not to show it. "You will obey my commands."
Slowly, an evil smirk crossed the boy's face…
He flicked his wrist lightly, speaking calmly, "Prosterno." His eyes were glowing red as he spoke.
Talia's magical item slammed against the wall and shattered dustily.
"Child's play." Klarion said coldly.
And then he flicked his wrist again: "Sopor." Talia's body went totally limp and she collapsed to the floor in a deep sleep.
The boy stood over her, looking down at her with a dark indifference.
"Amateur." He said apathetically and moved away.
The boy twirled his hands casually around each other and an orange and black tabby appeared in his arms.
He walked over to the window silently and looked out at the chaos that was Gotham City. Everywhere buildings were demolished or on fire. Cars were totaled. Lamp posts and fire hydrants were destroyed. The electricity was out. Powerful streams of water were shooting up from the ground. There was screaming and there was violence and disease.
"How beautiful." He said quietly, stroking his cat.
Temple Fugate looked at his golden pocket watch and realized he had 5 minutes and 41 seconds left. Uh huh.
"Not happening." He clicked his watch shut bluntly.
Being late was acceptable when the time allotted was inappropriate. The Joker's expectations were completely unreasonable. He would do the best he could, naturally, but he wasn't a magician.
The King of Hearts called his first witness. The back door of the court room slammed open melodramatically and a very pompous and stern looking mouse proceeded down the aisle. He had a hard, serious stare that conveyed an almost militant command…
He took the stand, but was not sworn in. Nor did any lawyer rise to question him. Instead, the Mouse just started speaking in a very proud and formal manner…
"My tale is very long…" He said haughtily. And on and on he went…
Tim Drake groaned loudly and slipped down in his seat as though he were melting away in agony. His hands stretched his face and he was clearly about to have a bad case of brain rot.
The mouse launched into a long, serious discussion of totally irrelevant nonsense. Treating it with the greatest severity, of course.
"What's with this guy?" Bullock muttered, having never encountered the notorious mouse before.
"…Save me…" Tim managed weakly. He was pulling his eye sockets open in a disgusting, melting manner.
"This is all very interesting…" The King tried to hurry the mouse along. "But what does it have to do with the stolen tarts?"
"Ah yes, the tarts." The mouse spoke hard and formally. His stare never wavered. He wasn't looking at anyone or anything. "I remember it well. It was the summer of 1444…"
"Nobody fall asleep." Arthur warned seriously. The mouse entrancement was hardcore.
And then he noticed that Bullock was already lying back with his hat over his eyes.
"Smack him… Smack him…" Arthur whispered heatedly down the line.
Tim didn't move. He scarcely seemed alive. "…hate… this… mouse…" He managed.
Summer finally smacked Bullock across the back of the head. His hat fell off.
"What the hell?" Harvey snapped irritably.
The mouse's expression never wavered. He sounded like a nineteenth century British colonel recounting a military campaign. "…And I said to myself, 'Mouse, these people need a leader…'"
"I've heard this one before." Ally Knox scratched his head innocently.
"I've heard them ALL before." Tim groaned, sliding lower still in his seat.
As the mouse continued to ramble, more characters started popping up in their already outrageously crowded row. It was becoming downright unbearable they were so squished. And they became increasingly irritable with each other over what little space there was…
Only Knox refrained from getting snarky about people pushing and crushing him. Everyone else was getting really ticked off. This sucked.
"Is the air conditioning on or what?" The detective grumbled.
The mouse continued to ramble… and the King actually seemed to be asleep…
It was really, really difficult to fight the urge to just fall asleep and be done with all of this stupidity…
"I'm SO sleepy." Summer frowned.
"The king gets to sleep…" Tim groaned, staring up at the ceiling in frustration.
"Ya, I'm lovin' the judicial system they got here…" Bullock muttered irritably.
"What do you expect? It was designed by a madcap criminal." Arthur sighed loudly.
"SHH! We're coming to the best part!" Ally Knox whispered enthusiastically.
Everyone silenced. And Ally leaned in as close as he could to listen intensely. And then he started flapping his hands in excitement: "Here it comes… here it comes!"
But the mouse was as boring a drone as ever.
"Oh my GOD." Arthur was rubbing his face with his hands to stay awake.
The mouse continued on and on and ON… His hard stare never wavering… And nothing he said made any sense so it was very difficult to follow his stories and remain engaged. The listener found themselves constantly losing the thread of the tale.
And then Bullock unexpectedly slapped himself to wake up. And everyone jumped.
"Guys… I'm going." He said. "Seriously." And then he smacked his face again.
Arthur, looking tired, pulled out his lighter and without warning burned Harvey's neck.
Only to get smacked in the face for it! Arthur tried to smack back, crushing Summer and Tim in the process. This resulted in a brief and amusing scuffle in the row that affected everyone. Including some fantasy characters. Everyone was smacking at each other in great annoyance.
"Hey, hey, hey…" Ally Knox whispered feverishly.
Fortunately the king was asleep and things simmered down naturally.
"Well… at least we're awake now…" Tim muttered. "Sort of."
And the mouse plowed on and on… and the clock on the courtroom wall just continued to spin uselessly giving no proper indication of how much time was passing…
"This guy…What the hell?" Bullock rubbed his face and ran his hands through his hair.
Arthur looked like he was at the end of his rope. "I told you people this was a death trap."
It went on and on and the listener felt as though their brain was rotting in their skull.
Tim Drake randomly started laughing to himself. That lazy, tired laugh of someone who's been pushed too far and is finally just letting go.
"You gonna make it, kid?" Bullock looked over mockingly.
Summer looked upset, "This Wonderland thing… It's just been too many days of madness… It just never ends!"
Tim was still chuckling tiredly. And then he sighed, "You know when something's just gone so far that you don't know whether to laugh or cry?"
No one answered. But they knew what he meant. This was unending and so surreal.
And then Ally started laughing. Just because Tim was.
So Arthur Reeves sighed very loudly and buried his head in his arms. "If I ever get out of this alive, I'll be bonkers. Just bananas." He muttered to no one in particular.
Tim smiled lazily, "This reminds me of the time I was trapped in an elevator with like thirty people for over an hour. The elevator jammed coz we'd filled it SO far over capacity in our impatience. It was so crowded some guy got buried. And some other guy decided to try to go on top like a crowd surfer to create more room. It was just like this experience… only SHORTER… And man, did it ever SMELL after a while…"
Arthur, face still hidden in his arms, muttered, "Thanks for that, kid."
"Wake up." Summer smacked Arthur. "You're forgetting names."
"Oh no. He remembers. It's just a blatant disrespect thing." Tim sighed. And then he turned to Bullock – who also called him kid discourteously – "Right, detective?"
Harvey snorted rudely, "Think I remember your name?"
And then Tim really laughed out loud.
Edward glanced back... He turned to Ivy, "Hmm… I think we're losing the boy."
"We're losing ME." Ivy rubbed her eyes. "This mouse is the worst…"
The mouse continued to ramble and the audience grew more and more restless and uncomfortable. The Gotham crew continued to shift around in their seats, desperately trying to find a position that worked long term. They kept cramping up.
"I can't breathe…" Ally rasped out at one point trying to push Arthur from him.
"Get off me." Arthur whispered fiercely, shoving back.
And at one point Gleeson lost her temper with Bullock being pressed so tightly against her. His elbow was actually digging into her in a painful way. And so they started to struggle for a different arrangement. And unfortunately, his hand ended up accidentally somewhere it shouldn't have been and-
SMACK! Another hit in the head. "You creep!" Gleeson hissed.
Harvey lost it: "That is just f-cking it! Enough with the hitting!"
"ORDER!" The King woke up and automatically smacked his mallet. He looked around to see where the disruption was coming from, but he'd missed it.
Harvey settled back into his seat, flushed with anger. Gleeson had hit him one too many times this afternoon. He muttered furiously, "That's why you'll never marry, Gleeson. You're one of those hitting, nagging bitches."
"This from YOU? Don't get me started on the very long, long, LONG list as to why you'll always be alone." Summer snarled angrily.
"Hey! I carried your weak ass halfway cross the countryside, lady!" Bullock started to raise his voice again.
"Aww… ever the white knight." Tim smirked lazily, low in his seat.
"Easy, easy, easy!" Ally Knox tried to quiet them down. "Big, deep breaths, people! I know we're all getting really fed up, but-"
"Tell her to simmer the f-ck down!" Bullock was livid.
Arthur snorted. "And Bullock's about to have his FOURTH brawl of the afternoon…"
"Go the hell, Reeves." Harvey muttered irritably. He was just so pissed.
"Already there." Reeves didn't miss a beat.
"If you do go, write back about the weather..." Ally yawned. "I'm curious."
"Any man I married wouldn't NEED to be smacked. He'd be a decent human being." Summer muttered to herself bitterly. It was clearly directed at Bullock.
Knox piped up cheerfully, "Exactly. She's never hit me once!"
Gleeson rolled her eyes. "Keep dreaming, Knox."
Tim started chuckling again tiredly.
And so Arthur decided enough was enough and pulled out his lighter.
"OW!" Tim Drake jumped up in his seat, snapping out of it.
Suddenly, the Mouse on the stand stood up. "I cannot continue with so much whispering! I find this inattentiveness offensive!"
"SILENCE in my court!" The king slammed his mallet. "Please continue, Mouse. What you're saying is very important to this investigation."
If it was, the jurors weren't writing it down. They were all asleep.
The King noticed this and cleared his throat, "Actually… Thank you, Mouse. We've heard more than enough. I'm going to call the second witness."
Everyone waited to hear who the second witness was…
"Commissioner Gordon." The king called formally.
"HUH?" This was the loud chorus heard from the Gothamites. Even Riddler was shocked. Every head turned abruptly.
"Just getting you all to pay attention again." The King said flippantly.
"OY." Bullock shook his head and looked at Reeves.
Reeves gave him a look that said: Ya really.
The King cleared his throat. "NOW… my real second witness is none other than…"
Batgirl hit the ground, ice crawling quickly up her legs.
Instantly, Batman pulled a spray from his belt and misted this spreading danger. The ice stopped spreading and then dissipated quickly. Barbara's life and legs were saved.
Mr. Freeze had not paused for this rescue, however. He was battling Nightwing.
Grayson spun, dodging a deadly gun blast of ice. "Is the clock still ticking or what?" He called out.
"36 minutes. Yes." The clown smiled on the screen overhead. "The countdown stops only if I've been stopped. Get it?"
All three Bats were now attacking Freeze. Victor fought as best he could, but he was outnumbered. He fired and fired his gun, but he was losing ground to them.
They were excellent at dodging! And when he actually hit, they had that damn spray! He needed a head shot to have a hope in hell… Just one HEAD shot…
He found himself backing up more and more. He would soon be up against the wall.
"You're dropping the ball, Freeze." The clown sighed, sounding bored and unimpressed.
Victor kept trying for head shots.
But Batman eventually knocked the ice blaster from his hands. And then Nightwing kicked him to the ground and Batgirl threw out a cord that wrapped around him with lightening speed.
"Team work!" Batgirl felt pumped. She pulled to tighten her hold on Freeze.
"Damn it." Freeze accepted his lot. He knew when he was beat.
"Oh, screw you people." Joker scowled. "Do you have ANY idea how hard it was to infect this guy? We're talking really, really hard."
"Give it up, Joker!" Batman snarled impatiently.
"I knew you'd say something cheesy like that. You always do." Joker rolled his eyes.
And then unexpectedly, he said: "Round two!"
And a Man Bat unexpectedly burst through the window beside them and slammed all three heroes across the room painfully.
The dark, ugly bruises would be horrendous! If they survived, of course…
"I just love Dr. Langstrom's formula. Don't you?" Joker laughed. "And I'll let you GUESS who is transformed for our entertainment tonight. I just love guessing games, after all! Hmm… You might not wanna hurt him too badly… Good luck with that…"
Bullock had walked to the lab as slowly as he dared. He still had absolutely nothing. No idea what to do. He'd had some really close brushes with death, but the idea of the surgical tools was really freaking him out.
But you'd never know it. Coz he'd learned the first rule very, very well – Never let them see you scared.
He looked down at Paige, but was unable to read her sickly expression. She was clinging to him tightly as though frightened. Once again, she was curling up into him as though trying to hide her face. It worked because he was a big guy and naturally cuddly.
He could feel how tense her back muscles were. This made him feel even worse. She knew he had nothing. That they were doomed.
As she clung tightly, Harvey moved his fingers on her back in a way he hoped was comforting. He gave her a good squeeze, trying to communicate something – anything. They were going to take her away soon and he wouldn't be able to do anything about it.
Sure enough, he was instructed to set her down on a long, silver counter.
As he let her go, he gave her the most apologetic look he could muster. He needed her to understand that he was sorry he was letting this happen. That he didn't know what to do.
She did nothing to reassure him. She just looked sick and frightened. Which was odd – she'd always been so cold, hard and tough. Kinda like him. But nobody wanted to die a Scarecrow death. Nobody. They were the absolute worst deaths. The kind cops prayed not to get.
The detective was forced to sit down with his back to a beam. Two Face pulled his arms back around it and tied them very tightly. Then he went to tie his legs.
"Not the legs." Crane instructed bluntly. "I want to see him thrash in terror."
Two Face was irritated. "I'm not your bitch, Crane."
"You're just cross that you lost the coin toss." Scarecrow was dismissive.
Hatter – looking at poor Monroe – interrupted unexpectedly, "These symptoms… my goodness. This virus has manifested itself in a way I never expected. I didn't realize people would react adversely and DIE. That wasn't part of the plan at all…"
"Well, perhaps you should have planned better." Two Face snarled darkly.
Hatter frowned, "I didn't do this, Dent. Haven't I made that perfectly clear? Someone STOLE my unpolished plans! It was all fairly hypothetical still. I hadn't done enough testing. It was long ago and I lost interest in the project… There were a lot of unknown variables and I moved onto other things…"
"Whoever used your blueprints had no idea what they were doing. YOU didn't fully understand what you were doing. And now we're all paying the price." Crane sighed.
Jervis tried not to let the barb sting as he continued to work on his laptop beside Monroe. This was almost, almost ready... "Well, hopefully we've got something here. This should be it." He said quietly.
And then Scarecrow held up a little vial to the light. It was a beautiful violet colour. Crane examined it and said, "Ah... revenge is so beautiful..."And then he loaded it into a small gun.
Two Face, irritated beyond his limit, unexpectedly smacked the gun out of his hand.
"I was supposed to grease him." Dent snarled. "We've got history."
Scarecrow was angry. "We've all got history with this boorish brute. Do you have any idea how many times he's roughed me up just for the fun of it? How he judges and demeans those he arrests? He should have been dismissed for police brutality YEARS ago. He lives to abuse geeky freaks like me!"
Dent growled dangerously, "We don't have time for your stupid torture crap. Just let me shoot him!"
"No-" Crane started.
But Two Face cocked his gun and pointed it at Bullock defiantly.
Crane glared, "I won the coin toss, damn it. He's mine."
Two Face kept the gun fixed on Bullock. He really seemed to be taking the shot. There was a moment of great intensity where the detective held his breath.
But then Dent slammed down his arm in great frustration and said, "Screw this! I'll be outside."
He stormed out of the room, unable to defy the coin toss. He had lost.
Crane watched Two Face leave with a triumphant smirk. And then he bent down and retrieved the little gun from the floor.
Bullock stared at the gun coldly. He refused to look frightened. He didn't want to give Crane the satisfaction. The guy was a sadistic freak.
Though the detective hadn't wanted to be shot dead right then and there by Dent, part of him knew it was a much better fate than the torture that was coming. He would like to pretend that on some level his old friend Harvey Dent was still in there and had wanted to spare him the terror and agony. But that was way too idealistic.
Truth be told, Dent wanted to kill him personally and it probably bugged the guy that a freak like Scarecrow was going to get his jollies from… ugh… He didn't even wanna finish the thought. This was just too horrible.
Hatter interrupted: "Jon, I'm ready here. I need you to give the injection. You went to medical school."
Crane set down the gun and walked over to Monroe and Tetch. He quickly prepared a syringe.
The detective turned his head against the beam to watch. He saw liquid entering the syringe. Just watching it made his flesh crawl.
He really didn't want this to happen. He couldn't believe he was letting it happen.
Crane gave the injection. Bullock cringed inside. His heart sank as he watched the syringe slowly drain into Paige's body. It was so slow it drove him crazy. He wanted to shout aggressively, but he knew better.
Finally, he had to look away. Paige was done. He didn't even want to think about it going through her blood stream… What it would do to her… But either way, what was done was done. There was no turning back for her now.
"We'll know soon enough." Tetch frowned. "Hopefully this is finally it."
"I doubt it." Crane muttered. Now that Two Face was gone, he could speak frankly. "I've been at this all night. I don't know why Dent thought I could do this. But I had little choice but to cooperate and try my best. I need a cure as much as anyone, after all."
"Well, hypothetically, this should work..." Hatter frowned. "Though I've been wrong before…"
Crane sighed and went over to the other counter, picking up his gun.
"Alright, Detective..." He tried to get into the right frame of mind after that interruption. "I hope you enjoyed watching your friend take an experimental injection. I know you've seen how all my other guinea pigs turned out. But who knows, she may only go blind or something..."
Crane finished with a wicked smirk. Bullock wanted to knock his teeth out.
But he didn't speak. He knew his voice would betray all the emotions flooding him.
"Nothing to say? Hm... Oh well." Crane shrugged. "Goodbye."
WACK.
He fired a dart into the detective's neck unexpectedly. OUCH!
Bullock didn't need to ask what he'd just been dosed with. It was pretty clear. And it wouldn't matter in the next few minutes anyway… he was about to die regardless…
The King announced, "My real second witness is none other than… Timothy Drake!"
"What?" Tim blinked in surprise.
And then the boy realized he was sitting on the stand before the audience. He suddenly felt like an insect in a jar. He looked up at the monarchs nervously. This wasn't good.
"Now, Timothy… Please tell us what you know about the theft of the tarts." The king spoke very gravely.
Tim frowned, "But I don't know anything about it."
"TIMOTHY…" The king warned. "You MUST tell us all you know."
"All I know? Well, that could take some time. Should I start with letters or numbers?" Tim tried to joke. No one laughed. He made a gesture to indicate it had been a joke. But the king looked as frosty as ever.
Tim's face fell. He looked to his comrades in the crowd for guidance. He had no idea what he was supposed to do. Why had they called him?
"It isn't looking good for the brat." Ivy said quietly to Edward.
"Nope. He's just about done." Riddler agreed.
"Tell us your information or you'll be executed!" The Queen boomed angrily.
"What am I supposed to do?" Tim was exasperated. "Make a bunch of crap up like that stupid mouse!"
"HOW – DARE – YOU!" The mouse stood in the front row and pointed at him with the greatest severity.
"ORDER!" The king slammed his mallet. "Timothy-"
"ENOUGH." The queen stood and pointed to Tim. "Off with his head!"
The guards moved to seize Tim Drake.
"Objection!" Arthur Reeves stood up. He had no idea what he was doing and he knew he was going to regret it shortly, but he just had to do something. Tim was about to be taken to the executioner's block!
Everyone froze.
"Objection, your majesty." Arthur struggled and stumbled out of his crowded row.
"Who are you?" The queen demanded crossly.
"I'm a lawyer." Arthur answered simply.
"A lawyer?" The king frowned. "Oh no, I can't abide lawyers in my courtroom."
"My client has the right to representation-"
"Alright, alright." The king said hurriedly. "No lawyer talk. I won't stand for lawyer talk. I will not question this witness. You are dismissed."
And with that Arthur and Tim were suddenly back in the audience.
"I shall now call my third witness…" The king said formerly. "The dodo."
"See, Reeves?" Tim smirked. "You are capable of courage. Doesn't it feel good?"
"A simple THANK YOU would do." Reeves muttered. And then he realized his knees were a little shaky. He'd been collected and confident in the moment, but now that it was over, his body was reacting involuntarily.
Summer placed a hand on his knee to still it. "Nice save." She told him.
A cheerful white bird in a blue Hawaiian shirt and dark sunglasses strutted nonchalantly down the aisle. He motioned greetings to this person and that. He even clicked his hand like a gun at someone. And then, remembering Reeves, he lifted his shades and winked at the councilman.
When the dodo took the stand he was a total smart ass. For every question the king asked, he had a smarty pants answer. And a smirk on his face. But at least it kept them awake. It wasn't boring and droning and painful like the mouse. It was kinda funny at times.
Bullock was getting very restless. Something felt wrong. Really wrong. He wasn't prone to anxiety like Gleeson. And yet… he felt more and more uneasy with every passing second…
He didn't realize that he was dying. How could he know? But the death anxiety was building in him. It was leaking through into the fantasy.
He realized he was grinding his teeth like mad. He needed to put something in his mouth. He just kept grinding. The craving for a cigar was really strong. But food, drink, gum, etc, would do. But there was nothing to be had.
He found himself staring at the tarts at the front. Too bad that wasn't an option. That would do the trick. But he looked away. He didn't want to get caught staring longingly at the food. OY! People made fun of him enough about that kinda crap already… eesh…
Where is this stress coming from? Woah…
He'd been brutally addicted to nicotine for years. Turned out the stuff was just as addictive as heroin, cocaine – any of that crap. Most cigars had like ten, twenty or even forty times as much nicotine as cigarettes, so he'd always preferred them. But he'd managed to quit.
But now he felt exceptionally edgy. He desperately craved a good, solid shot of nicotine to soothe away this funk he was in. Nicotine reached the brain within SECONDS.
But he'd quit and started stuffing other stuff into his mouth constantly… food, toothpicks... Sometimes he wondered if he shouldn't just switch back. He'd lose weight and he'd lose a lot of the crappy comments people made day in and out about his gluttony. He wasn't sure which was unhealthier – being overweight or smoking.
He stuck a toothpick in his mouth, hoping he'd get his oral fix. But it was no good. He was just too edgy for some reason. What the hell?
Harvey found himself getting progressively grouchier. And Gleeson and Reeves were squished and irritable, so they weren't tolerant of it. It wasn't long before they were all snarky with each other all over again.
The king continued to interrogate the dodo.
"Hmm…" The bird lifted his shades, his eyes thinking. "Let me see… I guess it was pepsi… or… hmm… It might have been coke. I really couldn't tell ya, mate. I always failed the pepsi challenge."
"Write that down!" The queen barked at the jurors. "It's very important!"
And the jurors wrote down PEPSI and whatnot randomly on their chalkboards with their other nonsensical gibberish that had nothing to do with the trial at hand.
Suddenly, Arthur's voice was heard, accidentally too loud: "Well, SORRY! We don't all use addiction to cope with how much we hate out lives!"
Edward Nygma burst out laughing at this. It was great.
The King sighed, "Alright, dodo. Thank you. I'll now call my… what number are we on?"
No one answered.
"Oh whatever." The king slammed his mallet. "Next witness."
The Man Bat, whomever it was this time, was coming at them furiously. The sound it was making was horrible – it was a monstrous shrieking, like the raptors in Jurassic Park. The claws and fangs were deadly sharp too.
Nightwing took a bad slash across the back as he tried to dodge.
Batgirl pulled out some tranquilizer darts… but she couldn't get a clear shot that didn't risk her teammates!
Batman lunged on the creature's back and the two raged around the room smashing into everything in their path.
Batgirl decided to fire off her hook instead and caught the creature around the ankles… Only to be lifted right off the ground.
Nightwing lunged to grab her, had her for a second and pulled back – only to lose her. He hit the ground as she was taken through the air.
The weight of two Bats at least slowed the enraged, psychotic creature down somewhat. But that horrible shrieking and roaring was just awful. Batgirl closed her eyes for a second and prayed that everything was going to be ok.
And then she swung around on the cord right at the creature and kicked it in the face so hard that they all went backwards into another wall.
The Man Bat was only stunned for a second, however. It slashed at her savagely. She recoiled and ended up tripping backwards.
Batman kicked the creature away from her just in time. It had been about to slit her throat open with its talon-like claws.
"Got a cure in that belt of yours?" Nightwing rushed over. "You're always prepared."
"Hopefully it's the exact same formula." Bruce loaded his dart gun.
The Man Bat knocked the gun away and pounced on Batman murderously.
Nightwing didn't waste a second. He sprang onto the gun and just FIRED blindly. He didn't calculate the risk as Batgirl had!
Thankfully, it hit the bat right in the back. It cried out in surprise… and then… almost immediately something started to happen…
"I just LOVE how you're prepared for a random Man Bat attack." Grayson shook his head in disbelief. He handed Batman back the gun.
Barbara bit her tongue and held back a comment about how he'd fired blindly with no regard for the consequences… She was just grateful it was ok!
The creature collapsed and began to slowly, slowly change…
"Who is it?" Batgirl whispered, coming over cautiously.
The three Bats stood over the creature and waited to find out who it was…
But it was just Dr. Langstrom.
The Joker laughed loudly… "I thought it would be better if you thought it was a loved one on the line. Someone you couldn't bare to hurt."
And then he added, "OK, Bolton. Make me proud!"
Lock-Up sprang at Batman with a bazooka. He fired immediately and they all dodged.
"Shouldn't have left him for last. He's not that great." Joker turned to Harley Quinn.
She was unhappy Lyle Bolton was around at all. So she didn't speak.
Joker snarled, "Where the HELL is Clock King? He was supposed to be here like 20 minutes ago! We're almost out of cannon fodder!"
Almost. Harley didn't like the sound of that. She assumed he meant her. And the girl.
Harley frowned and returned her attention to the little girl she was watching over. A little blonde who looked very frightened. She was only six.
Quinn really hoped it wouldn't come to actually hurting the little girl… jeez…
She kept hoping Clock King would barge in. If Fugate arrived in time, it was going to get really, really ugly out there for the Bat crew.
Bullock cringed as the dart struck. It hurt.
Nothing happened immediately. He looked at Scarecrow, who was smiling wickedly.
"Now..." Crane went over to the counter. "Let's see..."
He began setting out all sorts of frightening surgical tools for Bullock to see. He took his time, knowing the fear toxin needed several minutes to works its way through the blood stream...
The detective kept his hard, angry expression on his face. But eventually he had to stop looking at the tools. It was just too awful.
He picked a spot on the wall and tried to collect himself. He tried to drown out the sound of metal tools. He needed to slow his pulse down. He wanted to die well. He liked to consider himself from the old school of tough guys – it was very important to die well.
But then he thought of Paige. Was she still alive?
So he turned his head again against the beam… And sure enough, he saw that she was still conscious. Monroe's face was actually turned towards him, watching him weakly.
She was probably going to witness whatever horrific things happened to him in the next few minutes. He really hoped he kept his dignity. But he doubted he'd be able to. He'd almost been certainly dosed with more fear toxin.
Well… hopefully he wouldn't beg… or piss himself. He really didn't want to die badly. So many guys did in this town. Coz in the end, you're only human. The truth was – death was rarely a dignified thing. He'd seen a lot of people die over the years, including his old man. Death was ugly.
He could really hear tools now. So he focused on Paige. Her eyes were an extremely dark brown. Like her hair. She was clearly sad. She didn't want to die anymore than he did.
He smiled at her reassuringly, trying to play it slick like the movies. To show that despite what followed, he wasn't actually a coward.
But she didn't smile back. And he was disheartened.
Gradually, he began to hallucinate. Only he didn't realize it at all. The transition was invisible.
He heard the metal tray approaching and his pulse raced out of control. So far out of control that he couldn't get it back. It was like a horse running for its life in a freaking panic. He would never get the reins again…
Crane knelt down before him and said quietly, "Now, I'm going to very carefully remove a few of your organs and show them to you. But don't worry... I won't remove anything TOO vital... And then I'll leave you here when we make our escape. You'd be surprised how long one can live without their innards. You'll probably last the night..."
Bullock involuntarily thought of the zebra from Life of Pie. The one that a hyena had slowly eaten alive. It had survived without its stomach and intestines overnight. It had suffered unspeakably, though. The life had drained from it very slowly. Initially it had been thrashing like mad to resist... but as the hours rolled by... It had less and less energy and it eventually stopped fighting the hyena's advances. It twitched for a time the next morning, but by noon it was gone. Eyes blank.
What a horrible, horrible way to die. He couldn't have imagined worse for himself.
"Naturally, I'm not using any anesthetic. So this is going to be excruciatingly painful." Crane smiled evilly."You can't even begin to imagine the pain…"
Bullock heard the tray by his side. Then he felt Crane untucking his shirt.
He panicked. He absolutely panicked.
His feet were not tied, so he went utterly ballistic. He kicked like a cornered, crazed wild animal. He'd die fighting. Maybe strangle Crane with his legs! Regardless, there was no way he was just going to sit still for this. No freaking way. Crane would be kicked black and blue. He'd bust the guy's ribs…. Break his freaking face!
He flipped out so badly his panic was like a bird flapping in his ears. He couldn't see.
Crane, standing on the other side of the room with Tetch, watched the detective's meltdown with a smile on his face. Bullock was thrashing and kicking madly, absolutely flipping out like he was being murdered. Dissected alive.
Hatter, eyes glued to his computer screen, was refusing to watch. This was not his style at all. He didn't like it.
Scarecrow smirked, "I've mastered several formulas for executing enemies. This particular dosage generally kills within five to ten minutes. The body can only take so much before it dies of fright."
The next witness was the duchess' cook. Bullock recognized the man immediately. He was carrying a large pot under one arm and holding a rolling pin up in the other.
"There ya go, Harv. Dinner's served." Arthur smirked.
Bullock would normally have been angered by the shot, but his stomach was hollow and watery and his pulse was racing. He felt so nervous that he just wanted everything to stop. What was wrong with him?
"You ok?" Reeves asked him suddenly. There was actually concern on the councilman's face. Harvey usually snapped something horrible back at him. Instead, the guy looked… well…
"I'm fine." Bullock lied dismissively. He looked away trying to seem cross. He was very good at masking his feelings. No matter how scared he was, he did his damndest not to show it on the outside. But he knew for a fact something was wrong with him.
The cook took the stand. The detective tried to focus his attention on the witness. It was the same scum bag who'd thrown pots, pans and china at the little tiny guy. He'd thrown a rolling pin directly at the baby's head. Guys like that belonged behind bars. This should be his freaking trial. Bastard.
Harvey remembered the little one's cries of suffering… the glass striking its skin… the horrible look on its red, wet face… And he wanted to kick the crap outta this guy…
He also remembered those tiny little hands on his face and neck… grabbing his ear… They'd been so freaking tiny and soft. Nothing had even been that adorable. Not ever. Wow. Sweet stuff like that didn't really happen to him.
And for a second, he was actually distracted from his anxiety. It was a really great memory. Too bad it got trashed to hell when he remembered the nightmarish transformation that followed.
"You must give your evidence." The king said very grandly to the cook.
The cook raised an eyebrow skeptically. He did not speak.
"You must give your evidence." The king repeated impatiently.
"I won't." The cook was blunt.
The King sighed loudly. "Dear…"
"You'll give your evidence or you'll be executed." The Queen warned.
"This witness needs to be cross examined…" The White Rabbit whispered nervously.
"OH." The King realized his mistake. "Right. Of course. I knew that."
And then, in the exact same way as before, he said: "You must give your evidence."
"What are tarts made of?" The Queen asked the cook.
"She made them. Doesn't she know?" Tim snorted from his seat. He glanced at the others to see if they found it amusing. No one reacted. Bullock actually looked nervous. Almost sickly.
"Hey… big guy…" Tim nudged Bullock's foot with his own. "You ok?"
"Not feeling so hot." The detective admitted. It was getting bad enough that he'd admit it.
"What are tarts made of?" The queen was repeating at the front.
"Pepper." The cook answered plainly. And Bullock remembered the clouds of pepper.
"Treacle." The dormouse called sleepily from their row.
And the Queen unexpectedly flew into a rage, "Collar that Dormouse! Behead that Dormouse! Turn that Dormouse out of court! Suppress him! Pinch him! Off with his whiskers!"
And then there was absolute chaos while the dormouse was snatched up and removed.
"What's treacle again?" Tim asked Ally. Totally unfazed by the drama.
"Order! Order!" The King called out. "NOW…" He turned back to the cook.
But the cook had somehow vanished. He was gone from the courtroom.
"I wish I could do that." Tim snorted quietly.
"What on earth?" The king frowned, scratching his head under his crown with his mallet.
"This won't do at all. We need that evidence!" The queen was furious.
And then Bullock had an idea. It was a crazy idea. But hey, Reeves' little stunt earlier had actually worked. Crazy crap worked in this fantasy. Why not try? It was a real gamble… and he wasn't feeling well at all… but…
The others would probably never forgive him, but his gut told him to just do it. It was a chance to set things right.
"Permission to speak, your grace." He stood up, surprising everyone.
"Speak or be executed!" The queen barked impatiently.
"The Duchess can likely answer any questions her cook can." He said simply.
This was probably not true, but whatever. That wasn't the point.
Reeves bolted upright in his seat, his back suddenly poker straight.
Summer and Tim turned and looked at Bullock as though he'd lost his mind.
They all knew exactly what he was trying to do and they couldn't believe it. What was he thinking?
It was a crazy, nonsense gamble. But this place was like that.
"Very well." The Queen decided.
And then the King cleared his throat, as if it was HIS decision, and said: "Very well."
The back door slammed open dramatically.
Down the aisle came the Duchess. Once again saved from execution.
And she looked as evil and deadly as ever.
A/N: Thanks again so much for the reviews! I really, really appreciate any feedback! ^^