Chapter XXVI: Something Wicked This Way Comes
Far from the Mad Hatter's Domain, the Queen of Hearts sat in her(?) throne room, thinking and waiting.
The doors opened and, beneath her mask, a wide, maniacal grin spread across her face.
Through the black crepe curtains, she saw him enter.
The Jabberwock.
The Jabberwock's battle with the White Knight had left it scarred, inside and out. The Hatter's mechanical genius had reached its peak in the reconstruction of the creature. The Jabberwock was now twice as deadly; its wings were made of thick wood, with metal joints and a thin canvas "membrane." It's torso had been replaced with a furnace, lit forever by the natural fires of the beast's belly. The manxome creature's claws and the spikes along its back and tail had been replaced with iron replicas, and a brace on its neck kept the head in place. Just under its shoulders, placed between its wings, were two steam pipes, which pumped as the gangly, draconic thing moved. It was lean and muscular (if you want to call iron piping and copper fibers the thickness of a small tree branch "muscles"), built almost like an ape in the proportions of its limbs, and had teeth like those of an oversized beaver, as well as insect-like antennae. The Jabberwock's orange eyes glowed with an intensity similar to a pair of headlights...yet they were not of the Hatter's design. Indeed, the eyes were one of the few organic things to remain of the Jabberwock, aside from the most of its head and its thick, green, scaly skin.
"What is it you desire, Mistress?" growled the Jabberwock, bowing before his Queen. Just as the Hatter's voice was thin and dark, the Jabberwock's voice was deep and gravelly, though not quite as rocky as the Queen's.
"You recall the intruder I spoke to you about, Jabberwock?"
Only the Jabberwock could hear the Queen's voice and not flinch.
"Yes, Mistress."
"The Hatter has failed me...he is, in fact, dead."
There was no remorse or disappointment in the deranged tyrant's voice.
"Then it is my turn," the Jabberwock almost hissed in pleasure, a fiendish smile crawling over his scaly lips.
"Indeed. And I give you the permission to take it as slowly as you like."
The Jabberwock smiled wider.
"I will tear him limb from limb..."
"NO."
The Jabberwock frowned slightly, confused.
"Whyever not, Mistress?"
"Because, you imbecilic burbler...I want to kill him myself."
The Jabberwock's smile returned full force.
"Then, my Queen, may I have permission, at least, to try to break him in another way before he reaches you?"
The Queen's dark cackle echoed through the room.
"Permission granted, Jabberwock. And no need to hurry!"
"It shall be done...easily."
The Jabberwock bowed again, and left the room, the gears in his head (quite literally) turning as he planned his strategy.
Bruce Wayne will come to me...he desires my eye for his weapon. I could just wait for him in my lair...
But why wait? After all, its rude not to welcome guests.
The Jabberwock's furnace sputtered and rumbled with laughter.
He was going to enjoy this. Immensely.