The Puppet Snaps His Strings

8:51 PM

The sound of skull colliding with sheetrock was a rather disturbing, yet satisfying sound.

Huntress dropped the punk to the floor, kicking him in the stomach for good measure. As relieving as fighting could be, she was too tense and, more importantly, too focused to enjoy it. Any enjoyment had long since ended.

At the very least, there were a hell of a lot less punks with guns around.

Eyeing a nearby door, Huntress moved to it and kicked it in. The door slammed into the wall and bounced back, but not before the purple-clad woman got a good look into the room and dismissed it. Leslie wasn't in it and that's all she needed to know.

Moving to the next one, she also kicked the door in and found it devoid of people. She had to be running out of rooms now; there were only so many. Walking down the hall until she came to another set of doors, she heard Manhunter approaching her from behind.

"Any luck?" Huntress asked her as she stood in front of a door, head turned to the brunette.

"None so far," was her response. "You?"

The sound of breaking wood, followed by a loud bang was the answer. "Not this one either," she grunted before turning to the next door.

This one turned out to be more fruitful. Sitting in a chair was Leslie and two guys with guns surrounded her. As it just so happened, Huntress had her crossbow in hand and she immediately had it up, firing a bolt. The arrow collided with one of the guns, knocking it clear out of the gunman's hand, causing him to yelp in pain.

She darted to one side of the doorway just in time to avoid the gunfire that went off an instant later. Fortunately it was only a handgun and the dark-haired woman counted each and every shot until it stopped. "Found her," was all she said to Manhunter, who had stationed herself on the other side of the door.

Dropping the crossbow to the floor, she pulled out a H-shaped shuriken and moved into the doorway. With practiced ease she sent the projectile flying, nailing the one armed man in the head and knocking him out. Without even breaking her stride, she was on the other man, grabbing a fistful of his shirt before repeatedly bashing her fist against his face. Each punch backed him up, followed by Huntress stepping after him.

Getting tired of that, she then brought her knee up and slammed it into the man's stomach, causing him to double over. A chop to the back of his neck finished him off.

"Was that really necessary?" Leslie asked after a moment.

Huntress looked at the fallen men before turning her sights to the doctor. "After all the time we've spent trying to save you...yes, yes it was."

Despite the disapproving look Leslie sent her, Huntress would not back down from that. Right now she could feel relief filling up in her at the sight of the doc unharmed—relatively, anyways. "It's time we got you home, Leslie."

"I don't have a problem with that."

As Leslie stood up, Huntress turned around in time to see Manhunter checking out the hallway from the doorway. Considering she moved into the corridor a second later, she took that to mean it was currently empty. That was fine considering they needed to find Katana and get the heck out of dodge.

Exiting the room with the doctor behind her, taking a moment to pick up her discarded crossbow and reload it on the move, the three women made their way down the hall, stepping over unconscious bodies left and right. Huntress didn't have to imagine how appalled Leslie was at the sight.

However, as they made a turn, they finally came across Katana—with two stowaways. Both groups stopped as they stared at each other.

It was Huntress who broke the silence. "Who the heck are these two, Katana?" she demanded, gripping the handle of a crossbow tightly. She firmly put herself between Leslie and the two…two…

Oh Lord, who were these two? They didn't look older than adolescence. Was that what they were? And why were they in colorful dress? It was like they were pretending to be vigilantes.

Don't tell me these two are vigilantes.

"They claim to help," Katana answered her, confirming her thoughts.. She then pointed to a still-smoking man on the floor. "They took him out together."

Huh, while the smoke was curious, at least they could defend themselves. "Well good for them," she grunted. "We have Dr. Thompkins and we need to get her out of here and regroup with Batman's group."

That got one of the girls' attention as her head perked up. She at least had the good sense to keep quiet though as she didn't say anything. However, the newbies were standing in their way.

"Hey, new girls, get a move on," she ordered, causing both or them to jump. "We're a little busy right now and this isn't the place to be staring like pissants.

"Oh, sorry!" the one in pink—ugh—replied before backing away, stumbling to turn around. The one in blue at least had some confidence as she turned around and followed.

"I see your manners have improved," Leslie commented.

"They're a work in progress," she replied evenly.

"If you don't mind me asking," the girl in blue suddenly said, earning herself the attention of the group, "can you tell us what's going on? Maybe we can help."

"Later, kid," Manhunter replied. "We need to see the good doctor home safely and then get in contact with the Bat. We'll see then."

There was a clear absence of the word no in that answer, but at this point Huntress didn't care. They had half of their objective completed and this was more of a time to get ready for the next part. No doubt whatever was going down at the Gotham Cathedral wasn't going to end there. Call it a gut instinct, but she had been around this city for too long to know months of bedlam would end in one night in one place.


9:01 PM

The hallway was long. At the end was a door and it was currently closed. It was here Batman was walking to.

The fighting was beginning to die down. Most of the gang members were lying on the floor defeated, leaving only a handful left. Trusting Black Canary, Batgirl, and the others to finish them off, Batman had taken off into the back halls of the Cathedral. Seeing as there was no sign of Dent or Sionis in the main Cathedral, it was possible they had gone further into the building. There was no way they went out the front; if either one of them had, they would've come across one of the vigilantes.

It had been only a few minutes and a couple of other hallways searched, but so far he had come up with nothing. This was his next check.

Reaching the door, he opened it and came to an immediate stop. Leaning up against the far wall was Sionis, his arms tied behind his back and his legs bound together. His masked head was tilted forward and his chest was rising and falling slowly. It was clear he was unconscious.

Batman's face hardened. Glancing about the room he saw no sign of possible booby traps; yet, there was something in his gut that told him something wasn't right. It would be one thing if Sionis was lying face down on the floor, which indicated he was knocked out. If there was a pool of blood, he'd been shot and killed. The positioning, the bindings, they all pointed to some sort of setup.

Because of his searching, it was then the vigilante picked up something else odd. Sionis' mask looked loose. Edging his way to the left, he kept his eyes on the mask and he noticed a crack. It wasn't a jagged crack, but a small gap where two parts of the mask came together when they were closed.

Someone had taken off Sionis' mask. Then they put it back on and tied him up. It was a veritable gift to whomever found him. In fact, it was a gift to the dark-clad man.

Batman had a good idea of who had done this. The oddness of the entire situation was right out of Dent's playbook. He must have attacked Sionis, dragged him in here, and removed his mask, most likely so that he saw the man's face as he shot him. Except he didn't shoot. Possibly, Dent had flipped his coin and it came up on its good side. So instead of leaving Sionis lying around only to get up and leave when he woke up, he had his rival tied up so that he would be captured.

Confidently, Batman strode to Sionis and kneeled down next to him. Hands reaching up, he opened the mask and pulled it off his head.

This wasn't Sionis.

The Dark Knight stared at the unconscious face of an entirely different person. In fact, he knew this man. They hadn't met in person as either Batman or Bruce Wayne. Yet, as part of his job, he made sure to know anyone and everyone involved with the police, Wayne Enterprises, the various criminals, and as of late, Arkham Asylum.

With his head hanging, Batman stared as the slacken face of Jeremiah Arkham. His face was bruised, indicating he had been beaten, most likely into unconsciousness.

Why? Why was Arkham here? Where was Sionis? It didn't make sense. When he had stormed the Cathedral, there was no mistaking Sionis' presence. With everything that had gone on, there was no way a double had been substituted, not in the time that was needed. It was highly unlikely both men were dressed as Black Mask and one waited out of sight just to take the other's place.

Arkham had been there the whole time, there was no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Yet, there had been nothing in Arkham's background that showed a connection between the two men. Both traveled in very different social and professional circles. They never crossed each other's paths. Hell, the people they associated never crossed paths.

No...no wait, that wasn't right. Staring down at Arkham, Batman could practically see the strings coming off of him. Whatever role the man was playing, it wasn't all him.

There was one man that had connections to Sionis and Arkham. One man that interacted with both, separately at all times.

His hand clenched tightly. All of this, from Black Mask's return to Harvey Dent's descent into crime was all connected.

Strange.

Suddenly, his comm link came on. "Batman? Batman, come in," Oracle's voice spoke.

"This is Batman," he answered.

"I've been keeping tabs on everyone through the CCTV cameras. Huntress and the others have retrieved Dr. Thompkins."

Relief welled up within the dark-clad man. That was some welcomed news for the first time in months.

"I also have been keeping an eye on the cathedral. Because of this, I caught sight of Two-Face leaving the cathedral. I was hoping to reroute Huntress' group to apprehend him, but he's not going to his hideout."

Batman was on his feet, walking out of the room. "Where is he going?"

"He's heading west on Herring; he's pretty close to the city limits too. I think he's leaving the city."

No, no he wasn't. Dent wasn't a man to tuck tail and run. Though he may be heading for the city limits, it wasn't to run. If he had gone further into the city, it would've been obvious he was going to a safehouse of his. His leaving meant he was going for a specific reason. In light of the revelation of Arkham as Black Mask and his being restrained, not to mention the direction Dent was going, there was only one place he could be going.

"Oracle, get in touch with Huntress and tell her to head to Arkham. Dent is heading there."

"Arkham? How do you know?"

"There isn't any time," he replied. "I want anyone and everyone there. The clock is ticking and this is our last chance at getting ahold of Dent. Send the GCPD to Gotham Cathedral to arrest the Two Ton Gang, the Skullz, and Black Mask."

There was a pause before, "You've got it."


9:29 PM

The gates of Arkham clattered shut behind Two-face's sedan, the brake lights leaving an eerie, red trail of light in its wake. Pavement crunched under the rubber of the tires as the vehicle came to a stop in front of the asylum's main entrance. The gothic facade of the building loomed over the car, unimpressed by its visitors.

As the rumbling engine fell silent, the doors to the sedan opened. From one of them, the gate guard was shoved out onto the driveway, soon followed by the grim-faced Two-face. With a gun in hand, he nonverbally urged the frightened man to get back on his feet and to do so quickly.

Even if the twins were wringing their hands, speaking to themselves that they should be getting out of Gotham and not making a stop here. What they thought meant nothing to their boss, who for once was single-minded about this.

This was needed, and it had to be done.

Though the small group was at the front entrance, Two-face was smarter than to enter that way. There was a reason why the guard was still alive, and that was to lead them to a side entrance. The man's identification was their key to unlock the door and then they were in.

"So where's your security room?" Two-face growled at his captive.

The answer to that question was down the hallway, to the right, and up a flight of stairs. Any time they came across a patrolling security personnel or an orderly, they were dealt with a quick assault and incapacitated. However, it was very surprising to see how few of them were out and about. The lack of human presence in these halls gave this gothic place an even more haunting quality to it.

Eventually, they found the nerve center of the asylum's security force. With his captive using his identification card to access the lock, the twins rushed in first to secure the room and the two men manning the station. A small screen that showed a football game went a long way to explain why neither man had noticed their infiltration.

This was almost pathetic. Some very dangerous people were being kept here, and the people employed to guard them were easily distracted. Yet, this would work to the crime lord's benefit. Using the station they had seized, it was quickly identified where all night shift employees were and then a simple matter of rounding them and locking them in a nurse's station.

In less than half an hour, three men had taken control of this facility.

"You two will stay here," he ordered Min and Max as he did a quick check of the monitors, locating the place he needed to go. "Make sure no one catches us off guard."

"Yes, sir," was the agreement from the twins.

"If anyone wearing a mask shows up, I want you to release all the prisoners and let them play with them. Let all of them out except for the ones on the second floor in the northwest hall. That's where I'm going to be and I don't want any of the animals in there to get out."

"Are you sure about this, Two-face? I got a bad feeling about this," Min piped up.

A look caused the freckled man to shrink in on himself. "This is something that needs to be done. We'll leave when I'm through, and no earlier. Do you understand me?"

Two nervous nods, but they understood all right.

"Lock the door behind me and sit tight," he instructed as he headed out, closing said door behind him.

His footsteps were unbearably loud as he strolled through the hallways, the tiled floor squeaky from a recent cleaning. The lighting was dimmed, especially in the area where the asylum's patients were kept. He passed by sections of glass panels, behind which various prisoners and patients peered through and at him. Some made sounds, most in gibberish, while others stared with the emptiest eyes ever seen.

Nothing but the reckoning Two-face had planned was on his mind. This was his choice, he told himself. Nothing and no one was dictating his actions now. Because Thompkins was wrong about him. This would prove it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

He had full control over his life.


9:54 PM

Two cars came to a stop, one known to the world as the Batmobile.

The other was called the Arrowmobile.

Green Arrow had been proud as a peacock as he showed it off. Batman had merely raised an eyebrow at the name while Batgirl simply stared at it blankly. Nightwing had whistled his appreciation, which only served to make the archer puff out his chest.

Black Canary, on the other hand, pressed a hand to her face in embarrassment. Out of all of their reactions, the dark-clad vigilante found that one was the most appropriate.

As the canopy of his car slid open, Batman leapt out, Batgirl doing the same on the other side. The...Arrowmobile...also opened up, Green Arrow and Nightwing doing the same. Black Canary had refused to be in the car and opted for her motorcycle, which she was in the process of parking. Nightwing had jumped at the opportunity to ride in the car, mostly because he lacked such a ride. Getting a good look at him, Batman could see the telltale signs that the young man felt he had made a mistake.

Fortunately, they were the last to arrive. Huntress' group was waiting for them by the entrance. The ladies didn't look any worse for wear, so their raid on Dent's hideout was an overwhelming success.

However, they weren't alone. There were two more bodies with them, young ones if his first glance was correct. One of them, dressed in a pink bodysuit and cape, seemed to be hiding behind Manhunter, peeking her head out to get a look at him. The other was dressed in blue and she stood out in the open.

Who the hell were they?

"What's the scoop, Batman?" Huntress asked then, pulling his attention away from the newcomers. "Oracle said Harvey Two-Face was coming this way."

"He has," the Dark Knight answered her as he strode towards the front doors. "He's heading for Hugo Strange with some of his men no doubt. We only have a couple more hours before midnight, so this makes our last chance to get him into custody."

"Which requires all of this firepower?" Manhunter questioned dubiously.

"I don't know about you, but I'm tired of being a step behind. This ends tonight and if I have to call in every resource at my disposal, then so be it."

There was a silent moment before the brunette nodded her acceptance. "Gotcha."

Without further delay, Batman reached the doors and grabbed the door handles. He then shoved the doors opened, revealing the main lobby to the asylum. He didn't even break stride as he entered the building, the sound of his footsteps echoing throughout the room. They were soon joined by the rest of the vigilantes, their footsteps making a cacophony of sound.

Reaching another set of doors, they too were shoved aside, revealing a long hallway. However, there was a faint sound echoing throughout the corridor, something that made the vigilante narrow his eyes. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the sound of metal doors sliding open.

He kept up his pace as he continued walking the hallway. The further he went down though, his ears caught a new sound. This one sounded more like screams...multiple ones too...and they were getting louder.

"Stay sharp," he ordered as he pulled out a bat-shaped shuriken from his belt.

The hallway made a sharp turn at its end, forcing the group to make the turn. The new hall was shorter than the previous one, what with a large set of mechanized doors at its end. As he approached it, large locks began to slide from one side to the other. Apparently he had triggered a sensor that activated the unlocking mechanism. Either that or someone on the other side had activated it.

However, when the doors slid open, the screams he had heard became deafening. Crazed men and women were roaming a room full of cells, ones that looked like they belonged in a prison rather than a mental health institution. Many of them simply wore rags to cover their nudity while others had their arms restrained in straitjackets.

Why they were out of their cells was a mystery. However, once they noticed the newly opened door, they didn't hesitate as the mob of crazed patients made a mad dash for it.

A mad dash right at the vigilantes.


10:03 PM

Strange found he couldn't sleep tonight. That didn't stop him from lounging on his bedding, legs crossed at the ankles and a foot tapping the air to a tune only the former shrink heard in his mind.

He had plenty of reason to be relaxed. After all, today had only given him reminders that he was not out of the game yet. If anybody thought that what he represented was neutralized just because he was incarcerated, they were sorely mistaken. Even the mighty Batman had no idea of how far his reach truly was.

And poor Jeremiah, a tool to the last.

Now that had been a plan long in the making. Years ago, when the False Face Society had been founded under the iron fist of Roman Sionis, Strange had inserted himself into the organization on whim, using it as a means to liven up his mundane existence. In the beginning, he had made himself Sionis' confidant, and through his subtle words he changed the Society into something worthy of himself.

Sionis had eaten it all up, the prospects of power and control being very convincing motivators for him. That, and Strange's desirable access to a certain individual with whom the scarred man harbored quite a grudge against. They were the mobster's weaknesses, and they exposed him to the shrink's machinations.

But like all good things, it had to come to an end at some point. Sionis began tugging on his leash, his ego making him more and more immune to Strange's words. A puppet that was trying to cut its own strings was a worthless puppet. The psychiatrist had been unwilling to give up his influence on the Society, but with Sionis becoming less and less cooperative, a replacement had been needed.

That was where Jeremiah came in. A local resource for him, and one that had been firmly bent to his will. No one would even suspect the asylum head to be involved in organized crime. And so, Strange began his work on Jeremiah, changing him into the perfect puppet. Jeremiah's natural tendencies to be weak were exacerbated until it was a full-blown mask for him, while his frustrations and powerlessness was channeled deep within his psyche to create his perfect puppet.

Then the Batman returned, and it was all scrapped.

Fortunately after his capture, he was able to pick right back up with his molding of Jeremiah. Sure, the pawn was uncooperative, but he didn't need the cooperation. Not when he still had his verbal keys to unlock the puppet he had created and buried deep within the spineless man. It took a couple months before his puppet was ready, and then in the interest of making things interesting, he set his brand new Black Mask on the city.

From what he had heard, it had been a resounding success. The Batman was losing, and it was all because of him, Professor Hugo Strange. The superior mind. Once Gotham collapsed in its entirety, the Dark Knight's defeat would be realized. Only too late would that man recognize his involvement, but by then there would be nothing that vigilante could do about it. They both would know who won this game.

While the vigilante was more than capable of handling a crisis, like all the ones that made the news without any problems, he had not been around when the mob families had fought over the limited space and resources of the city. He had. He had observed the level of violence, commented on it clinically, then ignored it as it was beneath him. But now he had a use for it, and when Harvey went on his rampage, he was inspired to unleash his other puppet, setting in motion the war for Gotham's soul.

Oh yes. Oh yes. His triumph was at hand, and the best part was he need not lift another finger.

Strange squinted his eyes shut as the lights in the hallway and his cell turned on. He could see red behind his eyelids and he had to turn his head momentarily to relieve his optic organs of the stress.

Hmm, now what was this about? Lights out had passed long ago. Was there some sort of emergency? Curious. There was no sound coming from the other patients in here.

Minutes later, the door to his room opened with a hiss. Lifting his head up slightly from his pillow, Strange peered through his glasses at the suited man that stood before him. The dichotomous coloring of said suit was slightly bizarre, but once one sighted the man's disfigured face, it made a lot more sense suddenly.

"Dr. Erie," spoke the growling voice of the man, and it took Strange a moment to recognize the voice. "Or should I say Professor Strange?"

"Harvey?" Strange asked as the other man drew closer. The right side of Harvey's face was immediately recognizable for the shrink, but the scarred left side was something new. He had heard that Harvey now called himself "Two-face" and apparently it was very appropriate. Having not expected a visit from this...other pawn of his, he chose his next words carefully. "How have you been doing?"

"How do you think?" Harvey retorted as he stood by the psychiatrist's bed.

"I'm getting the sense that you are irritable right now," Strange almost chuckled as he replied good naturedly. "I would offer my services to you again, of course, but current circumstances have limited me in the capacity."

"That right." That was said as a statement, not a question. You could tell from Harvey's tone of voice.

"Is something wrong?" the shrink asked curiously. Perhaps it had to do with this unexpected visit.

"Is something wrong?" Harvey parroted before his voice raised in volume. "Look at me! What do you Goddamn think?"

Strange said nothing as he traded Harvey look for look. He maintained a neutral facial expression, waiting for the disfigured man to continue.

"I found out about Arkham," Harvey stated after a moment of glaring down at him. "It made some things click together. You and I have some unfinished business, Strange."

Found out about Arkham? Did he mean Jeremiah? Something wasn't right here. His gut was beginning to warn him that this visit was no mere social call, not that he had considered such a possibility from the beginning.

"Whatever business would this be?" he asked, continuing to remain neutral.

"You used me, didn't you?" Harvey seethed. "Don't bother denying it. I heard about the things you did, after you let loose those Man-bats. I didn't put the pieces together, at least not in the way they were meant to be. You made me into this. This is what you intended from the start, wasn't it?" As he spoke, one of his hands constantly gestured to the left side of his face, the hideously scarred side.

Strange raised an eyebrow, disinterested. Was this what this was all about? Was poor Harvey coming here to lay blame on him for his recent actions?

"I did nothing of the sort, Harvey. I gave you what you wanted, help. And help you I did," he told his former patient. Because that's what he was, a patient. Let other so called mental health professional call them clients, as if that really did anything. "If you were not satisfied with the results, I'm afraid there is very little I can do about that."

"Look at what you've done to me!" Harvey roared. "You've destroyed everything! My life, my mind, everything that ever meant anything to me. I'm a freak thanks to you!"

"I did not make you turn to a life of crime, Harvey. You made that decision all on your own." He was growing bored with this conversation. So the pawn had caught on to his purpose. So what? Whether he was Harvey Dent or the aptly named Two-face, what did it matter? "Everything that you've ever done these last few months have been because of you, Harvey. You could have chosen not to do any of it. Whatever troubles you face now are of your own making."

"Then answer me this. What was this all for, hmm? What are you up to?" Harvey demanded.

Strange smirked back, not bothering to answer him. What reason did he have to convey his grand designs to this tool? Did a dog ask of its master his reasoning for his commands or did it obey like the faithful companion it was?

"So that's how this is going to be, huh?" That came out as a growl. Honestly, it was like this sad, pathetic man was trying to intimidate him. "Since you like playing with people's lives, then I guess your life should be fair game." Harvey drew out a gun and leveled it at him; with his other hand he pulled out a coin.

The former shrink shook his head indulgently. "Honestly, Harvey, that is not going to change a thing." This man was trying to intimidate him with a gun? Right. How primitive and brutish. No imagination whatsoever.

"Here's how this is going to go," Harvey began to explain, speaking as if he was mentioning the weather. "I'm going to pick a body part, let's say your right foot. Then I'm going to flip this coin. If it lands good heads, I leave that part alone. If it lands bad heads, I shoot that part. Simple."

For a Neanderthal. This was becoming very disappointing...yet Strange's experience with reading body language was presenting him something very concerning. While the threat of physical harm earned his derision, that wouldn't stop Harvey from following through on his threat.

"Must we really go down this route, Harvey?" he asked as he uncrossed his legs, moving himself slightly up his bed. "There really is no need for this to go this way. I am sure we can discuss this rationally and come to a solution that we both can agree with."

Harvey ignored him, preferring to flip that coin he was holding up into the air. The disfigured man caught the piece of currency easily, obviously a sign that he had had a lot of practice. Looking at the result, Harvey grunted, "Good heads."

Now Strange rolled his eyes. "Honestly, Harvey, this is becoming ridiculous. Take a seat and let's talk this out."

"Left foot," Harvey said simply, speaking as if the psychiatrist hadn't spoken at all. Again, the coin was flipped, Strange watching it with disdain. Catching it and looking at the result, Harvey gave a smirk as he stated, "Bad heads."

Strange opened his mouth to say...well, he didn't know quite what because pain exploded in his left foot just as his brain registered the sound of a gunshot. Instead of speaking, he released a scream as he tried to reach for his injured limb. Harvey was having none of it as he forced him back and batted his grasping hands away.

"We've past the time for talk, Professor," Harvey said. "I've already decided before I came here that I was going to hurt you. The only question is how much. I think I came to a pretty good compromise."

Struggling to pull his mind out of the haze of pain that had flooded it, Strange pleaded, "Harvey, we don't...we don't need to do this. There's a better way!"

"Right lower leg." Up the coin went again. Again, Harvey caught it. Bad heads.

A gunshot, another cry of pain as a bullet tore into his shin. The pain! The distressed psychiatrist had never in his life experienced such pain! Tears—tears!—were beginning to leak into the corners of his eyes from the agony.

"Harvey…" he tried again. "Harvey...this...this isn't…"

"Left lower leg." Up the coin went again.

"HARVEY!"


10:10 PM

It was pure instinct that led Batman to catching the first insane man. It was instinct that hauled the man up into the air and then swing him down to the floor. It was instinct that he slammed his fist into the patient's face, knocking him out for good.

It was instinct that Green Arrow fired one of his arrows right above his head, a boxing glove on its end, which plowed right into another insane patient's face right before he jumped on the Dark Knight's back.

And then the wave of mad men and women slammed into them. They screamed, they drooled, they scratched and clawed, and bit. Whatever psychosis afflicted them, it was frightening to see how damaged they had become.

That didn't mean they were going to take their abuse lying down.

Batman surged forward, bulling his way through the crowd until he reached the first set of cells. He had one of the patients, in a straitjacket no less, in his hands and he rammed the patient against the bars. Drawing a hand back, he slammed it into the person's face, the back of their head bashing against the bars and knocking them out.

That was when a woman patient jumped on his back. She shrieked in his ears as her fingers clawed at his chest, neck, and face. Twisting around, Batman shot his arms up until his hands grabbed onto the torn shirt on the woman's back. He dropped to his knees even as he pulled the woman over his head, forcing her to land on the floor hard. She didn't move much after that.

Looking up, the Dark Knight caught sight of the other vigilantes at work. He couldn't see Batgirl or Black Canary in the mob of bodies, but he did catch sight of Nightwing with his escrima sticks. The normal blue glow was missing, meaning he hadn't activated the taser function-good man. He was using the sticks to block the random attacks at his head and face, only striking out when he had a good shot at an insane patient's head.

Out of all of them though, Green Arrow seemed to be having the most success. With his body in hand, he was swinging it left to right and back, causing the patients to back off. Once one got close, the Emerald Archer would dropped to the floor and use his bow to knock their feet out from under them.

Batman then caught sight of the two new vigilantes. The one in pink was on her hands and feet for whatever reason. Next to her was one of the patients, which the girl in blue was hitting in the face with a rather large gun. The patient stumbled backwards, but due to the pink-clad girl, he tripped and fell to the floor. Then for good measure, Huntress came by and delivered a swift kick to the patient's face, rendering him unconscious.

"This is insane!" Huntress shouted to him as she turned to fend off a male patient that was practically foaming at the mouth. "What are they doing loose?"

That had been the first question in Batman's mind. It didn't really take much to know that someone had set them free on purpose. Following that, considering who they were here for, it became obvious Dent had them released to provide a very effective distraction.

Hearing another scream, Batman turned his head to see a patient charging at him. Rising up onto his feet, he threw a fist, perfectly timing it so that it collided with the man's face and sent him flying backwards. He even crashed into a woman patient, causing them both to fall to the floor in a heap.

"Up there!" the pink-dressed girl suddenly cried out, pointing a finger up above somewhere the Dark Knight's head. Looking up, he noticed a railing at the top of the cell block, two men grasping onto the metal rail as they looked over it.

He scowled. Both men looked the same, so they had to be the twins, Min and Max Donovan. That confirmed who had released these inmates.

However, the blue-clad girl raised her weapon at them. An instant later, a blast of energy fired from its barrel, much to the vigilante's surprise. If he wasn't mistaken, it looked a whole like electricity, which crackled through the air until it struck one of the twins.

It seemed he was going to have to find out who these girls were.

That could wait. Pulling out his grapple, he fired it to the roof and rose up into the air. When he reached the railing, he grabbed onto it and let go of the grapple. Using his rising momentum, he swung his body up and over the railing, swinging a leg out to kick the other twin, who was watching his brother get tased before him. The man cried out as he went crashing to the ground.

Batman touched down a moment later and was on the twin before he had a chance to take a breath. "Where's Dent?" he demanded, grabbing the man by his jacket.

The man—Min if he wasn't mistaken—answered immediately. "Block D!" he shouted. "He wanted to deal with that crazy doctor guy by himself!"

That confirmed what Batman had already suspected. There was also no telling how long Dent had been paying Strange a visit either. Strange could be dead, beaten, or in some twisted game Dent had thought up.

It was time to go face the former District Attorney and finish this once and for all.


10:17 PM

Something was horribly wrong.

When Huntress had accepted the help of two unknown vigilantes, she had thought they had some sort of fighting experience. Within moments of entering this madhouse, that had been proven very, very wrong.

For example, Huntress had her hand wrapped around the wrist of one of the patients. Her other hand was grabbing onto what past for a shirt and she was twisting her body. Using her strength, she lifted the patient right off the floor and sent them flying through the air. The patient's screaming didn't change one iota from their crazed rush to their now wild flight. It did stop when he slammed face-first into a wall.

Turning around, Huntress then saw Spoiler. She was backing away as fast as she could as some woman clawed at the air in front of her. There was no attempt at defending herself other than putting as much distance as she could from her attacker.

Immediately, Huntress charged. Leaping at the last moment, she leaned backwards and swung one of her legs, landing a kick to the back of the mad woman's head, sending her careening forward. Spoiler let out a startled cry as she jumped to a side, the patient landing hard where she had been standing.

"What the heck are you doing?!" the purple-clad woman demanded. "We're in a fight and so far I haven't—"

"Behind you!" Spoiler suddenly screamed.

Huntress immediately whipped around in time to see a patient rushing at her. Eyes wide, she then ducked to a side, allowing the man to fly right by her. As she turned her head to make sure she had an eye on the man, she then saw Spoiler leap into action, and by that she meant literally. Spoiler jumped at the patient, landing on his back as her arms wrapped over his shoulders and around his neck. The man began to thrash as he hollered and screamed, twisting around as Spoiler clung for life.

Storming up to the man, Huntress drew a fist back, then slammed it into his face. A dazed look appeared on the man's face before his legs gave out and he dropped to the floor. Spoiler assisted with the fall part way before she let go and let the guy collapse into an unconscious pile.

Immediately, Huntress grabbed her by her upper arm. "Stay with me," she ordered, her tone brokering no argument. She was going to make sure this girl made it through this thing. She then let go and turned around, walking towards a patient that had taken to clawing at the wall. Grabbing them by the back of their head, she cracked their skull against the wall and let them drop to the floor.

"Park yourself here," she then said, Spoiler doing exactly as she said, though for some reason she stood with her side to the wall. Scowling, Huntress raised a hand and pushed the young girl's shoulder, causing her to stumble and turn, her back bumping against the wall. "Keep an eye out for anyone rushing us," she continued, "or we're gonna have to explain to the Bat why we're in bloody pieces, capisce?"

Spoiler nodded her head. "Y-yeah," she stammered.

With another scream, Huntress twisted around, catching a woman's hands at their wrists. Raising a foot up, she then kicked it out, landing a kick to the woman's midsection and forcing her backwards.

This was gonna be a long fight.


10:22 PM

Hugo Strange had been reduced to a mess of blood and tears. Gunshot wounds littered his lower body, seemingly at random. His left foot, right lower and upper leg had been wounded, their counterparts left alone.

Above the shrink, his former pawn continued mercilessly as he flipped for each and every body part. When it had come to Strange's groin, he had flipped three times, one for each piece of the royal jewels. Strange had had a lot of luck there, getting three good heads in a row.

But that hadn't saved his right hand from a bad heads. As Two-face recalled, that was his writing hand.

All throughout this torture, Strange had begged for him to stop, trails of tears streaming down the sides of his face. How he had not fallen unconscious or succumbed to shock remained a mystery, but since it kept him conscious, it was more than welcomed. Unfortunately for the incarcerated shrink, his words had no effect over his assailant.

For once, his greatest weapon was failing him.

"I don't know about you, but I'm feeling better and better about this," Two-face commented as he fingered his coin. "You head doctors have a word for this. Let me think. That's right, catharsis. I think you people might be onto something with that."

Strange blubbered some kind of reply, it was hard to tell. Two-face decided to interpret it however he wished.

"Get on with it you say? I can't argue with that," the man who had fallen from grace chuckled. "Should I continue with your arm or move to your other hand? I think I'll go with your other hand. For all I know, you're ambidextrous and I think you could do without both hands for a while. At the least, it'll be a pain not being able to hold anything while you heal. If that's how we're going to do this. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Har...vey…" slipped from the blubbering shrink. At least, that's what it sounded like.

"No time like the present, Doc." Two-face grinned maliciously as he readied to flip again.

This was the scene that the Dark Knight came across. The remains of Harvey Dent torturing a delusional madman who was anything but composed or in charge. While the costumed vigilante felt little empathy as Strange's own scheme backfired on him, it was to Harvey that he spoke to.

"No more, Harvey."

Pausing, the disfigured face of Harvey Dent turned to and scowled at him. His suited body turned to face him, his gun no longer pointed idly in a random direction and aim directly at his maimed victim. Specifically, at Hugo Strange's head.

"Not another move, or I blow his brains out," Harvey threatened. "Keep your hands out where I can see them."

Batman acquiesced, keeping his hands visible to the deranged man. "What are you trying to prove here, Harvey? What are you trying to accomplish?"

"Don't call me that anymore. I'm not Harvey. Not anymore. Thanks to him," Harvey gestured with his head towards Strange. "This is personal, not business. It's between me and him. And I won't be satisfied until he pays for everything he's done."

Batman could hear the anger in Dent's voice, could hear the frustration. He had heard such a tone of voice from him before, back in a time when he was still the city's district attorney. It was a tone that came out whenever he discussed difficult cases, soon followed by a request for the vigilante's assistance. It was the biggest sign that somewhere in there, Harvey Dent still existed.

For once, he was not going to throw a punch, or beat into submission. This time, he was going to use words, to try and appeal to the man he had once known. Because who else but Harvey Dent, and not Two-face, would head straight into an obvious trap set up by Strange's puppet Black Mask and all for a woman he had all but abandoned?

Maybe this time he wouldn't have to end it with violence.

"This isn't you, Harvey. This is what he made you into. You don't have to be pulled by his strings anymore. Look at him." He gestured towards the wounded man whose eyes were darting between the two of them.

"Look at what he's done to me!" Harvey scowled back, pointing to the left side of his face. "He destroyed me, took everything that meant anything to me away. Why shouldn't he pay? We both know he won't. The justice system will let him slip through the cracks and then what? Who else will he twist and turn until there's nothing left?"

"Strike him down, Batman," Strange pleaded. "He's too far—"

"Shut up," both men ordered the bald, bearded man, interrupting him.

"You used to believe in the system, Harvey. You wanted to make it better than it was," Batman continued to press. "You wanted to make Gotham better. There's a part of you that still wants it, despite what you've done. There's nowhere to go and there are people waiting for you, wanting you to come back. Hoping that you'll stop running."

"Running? You think I'm trying to run away, like I'm trying to escape?" Harvey was giving him an incredulous look. Jabbing his finger back towards his face, he snarled, "There is no escape from this. I'm trapped, just like all the other rats in this place. I'll never escape, and this bastard's the one who threw away the key."

"It's not too late for you," the vigilante argued back. "You can still get help. Let me help you, help you to return to the man you meant to be. The man who helped deliver this city from organized crime and fought against its corruption. You can still be that man again, Harvey."

"That man is dead, Batman." Harvey's tone of voice had lowered, but it was tinted with regret. "I delivered this city back to Hell in a handbasket. There will be no redemption for me. We both know it."

"It's never too late, even for you," Batman tried again, turning his hands slightly so that the back of his hands were in Harvey's direct view. "You can still free yourself from Strange. Let the law deal with him."

"The law? Oh the law will deal with him alright," Two-face scoffed. "The only law that really matters. The law of averages." He held up his coin to the vigilante, the scarred side facing the costumed man. "The law that no amount of words or cash can change."

The coin was flipped into the air, Harvey's eyes leaving Batman to watch its ascent.

With his thumbs, Batman placed pressure unto the upper part of his palms, and from his gauntlets, a slew of silver dollars slipped out and into his hands. Flicking his wrists, he threw the coins up into air above the crime lord.

As the coins entered into his view, Two-face's eyes widened. "No!" he cried out and tried to reach out for his coin, losing sight of it as the other coins blocked it from view. He had to shield his eyes as the coins fell onto him and scattered onto the floor with a loud din. Some rolled to the edges of the room while others stayed where they had landed, a jumbled mix of defaced currency.

"Alright, Dent. Make your choice," Batman stated as he took a step back. "If you're going to execute this man, then it has to be your choice. No coin, no heads or tails. Just you. So make it."

Strange shot him a disbelieving look, shocked that he was offering the shrink up to his would-be killer without raising a fight.

The look on Two-face's face was almost feral as he looked at the vigilante then to Strange. Immediately, he held the gun up, aimed at the wounded man and held steady. If he had chosen indeed to kill him, he would do it in the next second.

Except...there was no shot. Two-face continued to aim his weapon at his victim but did not shoot. From where he stood, Batman could see sweat beading on his forehead as the seconds ticked by. He adjusted his grip on his gun, even as it began to tremble. Two-face's eyes flickered to the coins at his feet, then back to Strange. Then back to the coins. Back to Strange. The coins. Strange.

"I have to know!" The words tore out of Two-face as he fell to the floor, desperately searching for his missing coin. His gun slipped out of his hands, clattering onto the floor and away from its owner. "Where is it? Where is it!" He picked one up, looking at it hopefully until he turned it around. "This one isn't it!" he roared as he threw it away violently, resuming his search.

Again and again, he would pick up coin after coin, becoming more and more desperate when he just couldn't find the one he was looking for. Cries of rage escaped from him, growing high in pitch until they were nothing more than animalistic shrieks.

It was hard to watch as a man that he had come to know, both from the eyes of Batman and Bruce Wayne fall apart like this. But he stayed there, watching it play out until Two-face curled into a ball, his fingers digging into his scalp as he was paralyzed by indecision.

Harvey Dent...Two-face's threat had come to an end at last.

The squeaking of a bed drew Batman's scowling attention to the man responsible for all this.

"So you defeated him," Strange commented, attempting to show no weakness even though he had to be suffering immensely. "My congratulations."

He could have told the bearded man to shut up, that he wasn't interested in anything he had to say. But no, not after all this. Not after he had destroyed the hope that Gotham could finally be saved. So the words he used would be his attack, and they would strike deep into this bastard.

"How does it feel, Strange, to have your plan backfire on you?" he stated more than asked.

"A setback," Strange retorted. "Though he was a failure, he almost bested you. I can't imagine what will come next."

"I would be more concerned about yourself than me," the vigilante refuted. "Your time bombs may still be out there, but consider this. How many will come to the same conclusion that Dent did and come after you? How many will decide to pay you a visit before detonating as you intended. I know you, Strange, you want to be able to see what your work accomplishes and what would it mean if you weren't alive to see it? It would not prove that you are superior because what fool gets killed by his own bomb?"

Strange seethed in reply, glaring at him.

"I think we've seen who's superior here, Strange, and it's not you," Batman continued mercilessly. "Rest easy tonight that you've been spared. I can't guarantee I'll be there the next time."

"This isn't over," Strange growled. "This is far from over."

"Tonight it is." Tightening his fist, he slammed it into Strange's face, granting the deranged shrink blissful antiseptic from his pain.


Author's Note: Anybody surprised by the twists this story took? I wonder how many of you expected Jeremiah Arkham to be the one under Black Mask's mask. I definitely know a few were confused since Sionis is dead. In the comics, Arkham did become the second Black Mask, and naturally, Strange had a hand in that two, though he tag-teamed with the Joker to do it. Well, the ride is almost over for Three Sides of Fate. Stay tuned for the last chapter and what comes next.