Disclaimer:I do not own any Batman Begins/ Dark Knight characters. All other characters are mine.
"Slow and steady, watch the head."
"You wanna do this job, Phil?"
"Uh, no."
"Good, then fuck off. Fucking Phil."
"You 'aint in a good mood, are you Ferguson?"
"Fuck you Phil."
She felt cool metal beneath her, and a cushion was slid carefully beneath her neck. Cat groaned slightly and shifted over the metallic surface.
"Go get her water, you idiot."
"Oh, yeah, give me a second."
"…Fucking Phil."
Her head was raised, and the rim of a plastic cup was rested against her bottom lip.
"Uh, Cat…Miss Morgan, take some water."
She swallowed, as a stream of cool liquid poured down her throat, and she was painfully flooded with feelings of extreme dehydration.
"Ugh." Cat groaned, and scrunched up her nose as she experienced a severe headache. The two voices remained silent, and she quickly finished the cup of water.
"You sure I'm not dead?"
There was laughter around her, and a supportive hand fell on her elbow.
"No, but you could've fooled us."
"Well," She winced and slowly propped herself up, resting her elbows on the cool metal. "That was the idea."
Cat eventually pried her eyes open, fighting the heavy drowsiness that willed her to lie down and fall back asleep, and instead she took in her surroundings.
She was lying on a metal work bench, a brown blanket was thrown over her lower half and a flat pillow was placed beneath her neck. She appeared to be in the likeness of a factory, or warehouse, as the walls were corrugated steel and the floor was some sort of stained concrete.
Two men in plain, grey and black clothing loomed over her; the taller had fiery red hair and a matching beard, the shorter man had curly mouse-brown locks and kind, grey eyes.
"So?" Cat managed a watery smile, rolling her stiff shoulders back. "Did we fool them?"
"I'll say." The redhead grinned. "Medical named you dead 8 hours ago, we managed to sneak you out in a body bag."
"The tetraodontidae worked a treat!" The shorter man nodded, smiling proudly at Cat.
"Of course it fucking did, Phil, we had it all planned out."
"Come on, Ferguson, gimme a break."
"Fuck you, Phil." And Cat watched as Ferguson swiftly and subtly kissed Phil's cheek.
The two turned to Cat embarrassed, almost ashamed of this action. She merely laughed and shrugged her shoulders, much to the relief of the men.
"Uh," Ferguson cleared his throat. "So, it's been three years, what now?"
Cat shrugged again, the smile falling slowly from her face. "I thought…I thought Joker would be here."
"No one's seen him. We heard that he escaped, and a few of us went looking, but he's vanished." Phil finished, sadly, watching Cat's reaction carefully. "Most of us don't know what to do now."
She blinked back tears, and decided abruptly to save the crying for later, there was work to be done. "Can you gather the rest of Joker's men?"
Ferguson nodded, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "I reckon I can pull some strings, got a plan?"
Cat laughed. "God no."
At this, they both seemed to relax, laughing along as rumours of a 'cold-hearted serial killer' were put to rest. Phil placed a black duffel bag proudly on the table beside her, unzipping it to allow its contents to spill out. Black skinny jeans, a black lace shirt, and a purple leather jacket littered the metal bench. She noticed her prized silver chain, and her face lit up in a smile.
"All of this…it's like it's from another life." She reached a hand for the bag and the memories it contained, before something halted her reach.
"Uh, Caterina, you alright?"
Cat's lip was trembling slightly, and she awkwardly brought her hand back to her chest. Both of the men were searching her expression, they seemed to be waiting for something.
"No," She answered honestly. "Not really. I spent three years in that hell-hole, waiting for Joker to come and rescue me. It took a letter from Jack Napier and a few needles of pufferfish-poison to free me."
Ferguson frowned at her, glancing cautiously at Phil to ensure he was just as confused.
"Jack Napier?"
"Yeah," Cat waved her hand nonchalantly. "He mentioned the promotion again, and an accident involving acid. Taking someone's 'title' he said, I put 2 and 2 together eventually, though it took me an embarrassingly long time. He sent the poison to give me the appearance of a corpse, and a diluted formula to null the effects. God, that was almost the death of me."
She laughed, as she remembered how fucking close she had been to certain death, if Bruce hadn't given her vial '3', he would have unknowingly killed her.
"Anyway," She continued, her smile fading. "I've been devoted to him for so long, I did everything the Joker said and he left, like they all do. What the fuck do I owe him? Do you have any alcohol?"
The red-head seemed confused, but handed her an old-fashioned hip flask willingly. She smiled slightly, and splashed the amber liquid over the bag and its contents.
"Now." Cat muttered, staring transfixed at the soaking fabric. "It's your turn to burn."
Phil, catching on, clicked open a lighter and held it close to the pair of jeans. It wasn't long before the initial spark developed into a healthy bonfire of Caterina Morgan's belongings. It was so much more than just a show of anger of frustration, she was leaving it all behind, her old life, her old way of thinking.
Phil glanced sideways at Cat, her determined eyes shone brightly in the orange glow. "You know?" He muttered. "I think you would look rather exceptional in red."
Despite herself she grinned, and turned to the men with tears shining through her eyes.
"Okay." Her voice was rough and twisted with emotion, "Let's gather the troops."
Cat stared at the crowd before her; 50-or-so men were crammed into the warehouse and chatting absentmindedly amongst themselves.
"Ahem."
She cleared her throat meekly, and was surprised to find that all eyes turned towards her immediately.
She fidgeted with her simple blue shirt, trying to calm her bouncing nerves. "Uh, thank you so much for coming. I know everything's fucked up right now, and I hope by now we can all agree that Joker…he's no longer in the picture."
Scattered and begrudging agreement bounced around the warehouse, a few of the thugs seemed frustrated or furious; they had all been deserted.
"But I am here now, thanks to some exceptional people, and I'd like to pose a question; 'who owns the streets of Gotham?"
Cat let her gaze fall over the faces nearest to her, challenging them to answer. When the room remained in respectful silence, she took it as a good sign to continue.
"It sure as hell 'aint the Batman. And Jack Napier? The new Joker? He takes the gangs, the mafia, the violent communities. The streets are ours, or they were, until we lost our nerve."
A yell of agreement from the back of the warehouse.
"Are we going to give up this easily?" Cat was shouting now, enthused by the outburst of support. "Are we going to give up after one defeat? You know me, or you've heard of me, I'm convinced that you know I can lead you. Who won't follow me?"
The crowd was silent, a few hushed and excited whispers were exchanged.
Cat's heart was beating rapidly, she had 3 years to plan what she would do after escaping, it was exhilarating to finally share it.
"I want to develop a small team to help me lead us, a team of loyal, brave, stupid fuckheads who will follow me into hell and back. And together, we will take back the streets, through careful jobs and schemes, we will tear Gotham apart."
The support was slightly more skewed this time, a chorus of anger and joy as Cat openly and boldly challenged Joker's previous plans of chaos.
"There will be no more senseless killing," Cat squared her shoulders and stared directly at all the men who shook their heads or squirmed uncomfortably. "We will plan jobs, work in the shadows as assassins and thieves. Gotham has showed us that it can survive chaos, we now need to show it destruction. Let me see some volunteers."
A single cough was the only movement the men made, and Caterina looked around as dread began to fill her stomach.
"Volunteers?" She asked, louder, her voice verging on panicked. After 5 seconds of silence, there was a single shout of agreement from the middle of the crowd.
"Yeah, I'll do it."
The mass parted to allow a corridor for the volunteer, Cat strained her neck to recognise the man.
He was tall, rippling biceps and tanned skin exaggerated through his simple grey tank-top. His left arm was patterned in black tattoos, she managed to discern a twisted rose and a skull amongst the scribbles. The ink-drawings also snaked up his shoulder and onto his neck. His hair was dark and cut short, his fringe slightly overgrown and curly. A selection of coloured wristbands caught her attention, and Cat smiled widely as she recognised the older, but discernible man before her.
"Douglass?"
"Miss Morgan!"
His handsome face broke into a grin, and he jogged forwards to capture her in a tight hug.
"Fuck! It's so good to see you!"
"You don't know how much I missed you."
Cat pulled away, drinking in how different Douglass looked. The surrounding crowd seemed uncomfortable, whispering negative remarks as the two showed affection and thus, weakness.
"I hoped that Napier's letter would get to you, after all, that tetraodontidae wasn't easy to find."
She smiled at him gratefully. "That was you?"
Douglass shrugged, a slight blush crawling up his neck. "Napier planned most of it, and he was happy to help an 'old friend', as he put it."
Cat hugged him again, and turned back to the crowd with newfound confidence.
"Thank you, Douglass, anyone else?"
This time there was an immediate volunteer, a hand shot into the air and all eyes turned.
"Hey, sugar, count me in."
There was no mistaking the dark complexion, head of brown curls, bright red lipstick, and small and curvy form.
"Cherry?"
She grinned, and strutted up to the pair of them, blowing a bubble of strawberry gum.
"You are looking fucking fantastic," Cherry embraced Cat quickly, squeezing the living daylight out of her. "For someone who was in a nuthouse, I mean."
Douglass glared at her, and apparently hadn't warmed up to her in the three years. "Cherry's been…with us for a while." He scowled at her confident smile, but decided to brood without making other objections.
"What can I say?" She smacked the gum between her teeth, simultaneously rolling a match in her fingers. "I'm indispensable."
Caterina glanced between the two of them, unbelievably grateful. The fact that after so many years, they were both so willing to follow her almost brought tears to her eyes.
"Thank you," She repeated honestly, "Now- "
Cat was cut off by the slam of a closing door, and every person in that room grabbed their closest weapon and turned to the small 'exit' door at the very back of the warehouse. A woman's silhouette stood before them, the blinding daylight behind her completely obscuring her features.
"I'm not too late?"
A few jaws dropped and eyes bugged, the lady made her way slowly and deliberately towards Cat, and waded easily, even confidently, through the parting crowd.
"I guess my invitation was misplaced."
Cat was staring with a completely dumbfounded expression, not sure if she was really seeing the person before her.
"Y-Yvonne?"
Her curly, red hair was long and pinned over one shoulder. She had burgundy skinny jeans and a soft white button-down, all giving her a wholesome appearance that contrasted too shockingly with the rest of the crowd.
"Hi Caterina." She smiled, flashing a set of perfect, white teeth. "I am so glad to see you alive."
"What the fuck are you doing here?" Cat was hugging her, not caring that a few tears were running down her cheeks.
"Well," Yvonne pulled away, and tangled her fingers affectionately in Cat's. "My wife has been arrested, thanks to my complaints, and now I have no faith in the legal system."
"She was arrested because…you spoke up?"
Yvonne nodded sadly. "Because I wanted them to treat you like a human, Warden Jaidev 's making an example of me, needless to say I want revenge."
Cat watched her dubiously, opening her mouth to protest against the idea.
"Now," Yvonne noticed her hesitance. "You want inconspicuous? You're faces aren't exactly anonymous anymore, I'll be your civilian and inside resource."
Caterina turned to Douglass and Cherry, both of them shrugged and muttered statements of agreement.
"Okay, fine, four is a decent team. Let's go and collect some supplies and plan our first job. The rest of you will continue your tasks, just be ready for us when we call."
Caterina nodded at the crowd one final time, feeling more elated than she had ever felt before. Going from such a low to such a high gave her feelings of drastic euphoria.
The company of four was about to exit when they heard a long, low laugh. The hollow sound echoed around the warehouse like music from a speaker, and Cat turned slowly. With the giant crowd and mass of bodies, they hadn't noticed a single man sitting in a chair, his head hung low, and his body hunched as he listened to the recruitment from the side.
"Now this is funny." He looked up, meeting Cat's shocked gaze. "This could not have gone better."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Cat spat at him, and had to be held back by Yvonne otherwise she would've torn him apart.
"Now, now." He grinned, his voice low and melodic. "Play nice kitty, I thought we were friends."
"What the fuck gave you that impression, Crane?"
He shrugged, and rose slowly from the chair. He was wearing a simple grey suit and navy tie, complementing his rather graceful slenderness. His hair was perhaps shorter than she remembered, but his infinitely grey eyes were still unsettlingly beautiful.
"I did cure you," He responded, gazing at her in innocence. "The least you could do is thank me."
She frowned, baring her teeth in a fierce snarl. "Thank you?" Cat spluttered loudly.
"You're welcome." Crane stopped a few feet before her, and coolly slipped his hands into his pant-pockets. "You were my...my most successful patient."
"Want me to shoot him, Miss Morgan?" Douglass sported a large assault-rifle to his shoulder, a rather impressive weapon that Cat hadn't even known he was wearing.
She quickly shook her head, and sprung forwards from her toes, launching herself at the man full-force. Cat looped her thighs carefully around Crane's middle, and used his own weight to carry him up and over, until he was lying on his back and she was perched securely on his torso.
"Give me one reason," Cat leaned forwards, she was barely 2 inches from his shocked expression and she could feel his breath against her. "One reason why I shouldn't kill you."
Despite his disadvantaged position, Crane grinned smugly and lifted his chin. "Because I freed you from Joker, my therapy broke your obsession. How did it feel to take my medicine? Was the adrenaline incredible? I've never had a patient react to it in the same way, it is most perplexing."
Cat sat up suddenly, her confidence wavering as she stared questioningly down at him.
"I-I don't..."
And she was flooded with memories from Dr Crane's treatment. Most of it was a red blur, sour and obscured. Her heart had raced, fire flooded through her veins and danced over her skin. It was a time when her mind had quietened, every part of her being synchronised; she felt unstoppable.
"With all due respect, I fucking hate you." Cherry's condescending statement broke her from the depths of thought, and Cat quickly got to her feet.
"You're lucky we're letting you leave, so take the chance or I'll literally explode your face."
Crane didn't even acknowledge Cherry, his eyes were fixed unblinkingly on Caterina. "Well?" He asked softly. "I am offering to join you, my knowledge of chemical-weaponry will be invaluable."
She found herself nodding slightly, much to the surprise of the company around her.
"Cat?"
"What the hell?"
"Miss Morgan, maybe we should-"
"We need him." Cat justified herself quickly, but she couldn't shake that her agreement was rather unwilling, even her own thoughts seemed to be someone else's.
"I think we need him." She said quieter.
She looked at each of her companions in turn, waiting for scathing disagreements, almost hoping that one of them would blatantly refuse. Douglass averted his gaze, and held his rifle a little tighter, Cherry shrugged a single shoulder and stared daggers at Crane. Yvonne was gazing at Caterina, trying to discern her meaning, after a moment she too shrugged.
Crane grinned, and stepped forwards to join the circle of people.
"This will be fun." Cherry's disapproving look contradicted her statement, and she edged away from the man beside her. "Let's make some fucking friendship bracelets."
She stuck her hand in the middle of the circle, staring accusingly at Douglass until he sighed and dropped his hand over hers.
"Come on, 'Team Crazy'."
"I am not going by the name 'Team Crazy'." Yvonne crossed her arms defiantly over her chest, and Cat laughed at her pettiness.
"We need a name?" Crane drawled, lazily flicking a piece of lint of his suit.
All eyes turned to Caterina, as she was suddenly and inaudibly dubbed the commander of the company. She smiled, throwing her hand in the centre of the circle.
"From now on, we will fight under the title of 'League of Arkham.'"
There was loud and enthusiastic agreement.
"League of Arkham."
"Oh good." Crane rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't want our name to be scary, now, would you?"
Caterina Morgan turned towards the open door, where the first few glimpses of moonlight were visible. Four disgraced, dangerous, and slightly psychotic people followed her out.
Just one big, happy family.
The room was quiet, dark, and thick with tension.
Three figures occupied the space, two stood beside the third, who was sitting in an office chair and spinning slowly. A nearby table was laden with guns, knives, explosives, and many other forms of cheap weaponry.
"Boss?" One of the standing men addressed the third, he seemed to fidget and squirm, uncomfortable in his own skin. "Boss, you asked us to...keep you updated."
The sitter waved a gloved hand almost lazily, and didn't divert from the trying task of spinning the chair.
"Uh." The two standers seemed to draw courage from each other, and one stepped forward.
"Caterina Morgan escaped Arkham, she gathered the men and formed some sort of taskforce. It's all as you said it would be."
"Well obviously," The sitting man drawled, licking his lips lazily. "I know her."
"She's got a former-soldier, an arsonist, a psychiatrist, and 'Scarecrow' himself."
As the last name was mentioned, the sitter rose to his feet at such a pace, that the chair was sent flying to the opposite end of the room.
"What?" He howled, grabbing the closest man by the scruff of his collar. "Dr Crane?"
"Y-Yeah," The man choked, clawing at his iron grip. "Morgan's trusting him now, for some reason, I'm sorry Mr Joker."
A grin slowly spread over Joker's face and he shook with silent laughter, the change in expression stretched his many rippling scars.
"That wasn't part of the plan." He hissed through clenched teeth, still grinning like a madman. "He knows, Scarecrow knows that Caterina was mine. This will become personal. God, I hate when it becomes personal."
Joker released his thug suddenly, running a hand through his mess of green and unruly hair. "Sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart." He muttered, almost obsessively under his breath. "Sweetheart, where do you think you're going?"
He turned to the table of weapons and selected a few; carefully picking out three knives, two guns, several small grenades, and finally, a small white object, which he carefully concealed in his fist.
"Well boys." Joker slipped the weapons into various pockets and looked up, squeezing the pearl-earring in his hand. "I hope you enjoyed retirement while it lasted. Get my suit ready, we're going out."