Happy Halloween!

Oh, man, this is great. Finally, we're at this chapter. This is where things are starting to get serious. Things are really going to heat up here, and as I have mentioned in previous chapters, spoilers are around every corners, from the comics to the Arkham games and even a bit of the Animated Series.

By the way, in regards to *Spoilers* Wonder City's *End Spoilers* History, I will be taking a few liberties, as some of the facts of the games lore can get in the way of the plot, despite my thorough research. So, say, instead of *Spoilers*Wonder City's*End Spoilers* construction being at the the time it did, it would probably be constructed in the same year as Arkham City.

Anyway, enough about that. Back to the story!

Friitawa tapped her foot, impatiently waiting for word from Ra's a Ghul. It had been almost two days now, and she still had not received word of what plan she was supposed to work on or even what that plan would be.

Underneath the earth, far below Gotham city, were the beginnings of a grand city the likes of which she had never seen. All around her, in various cases, were automatons that help to drill into the city, now serving as sentinels of protection from would-be intruders before they would begin drilling once again into the hard bedrock. Not that it mattered, as it was inaccessible to all but the select assassins allowed to enter. But to her, with nothing to do but wait, it felt like another prison.

She paced nervously, like a panther locked behind a glass case in a zoo. She was tired of waiting. She wanted to strike, to feel the soaking feeling of blood on her hands, to feel the fear in her enemies as she cut them down.

"Friitawa…"

She turned, a savage smile on her face as she saw Ra's a Ghul emerge from the shadowy tunnel beneath the streets of the fledgling city. Only a few knew what lie behind the fake wall, only unlocked by a scimitar belonging to one of the elite assassins that he employed, and the treasure that lay beneath. But Friitawa knew what lay behind the door, and of the ancient and marvelous power that lay beneath: The Lazarus Pit; the key to eternal life, lay nestled in a back room, guarded only by Ra's own daughter, Talia, who was just as deadly, if not more so, as any of his elite guard.

"Ah, Ra's. It's about time you finally contacted me," she said, her arms crossed.

"Indeed," the ancient man said, his form dwarfing the scientist's by a couple of inches as he came face to face with her. "Tell me, Friitawa, what does it take to control a city?"

She thought about this for a bit, before saying, "Fear."

Ra's chuckled. "Close, my dear. Fear is a large part of the equation-"

"Fear is the only part of the equation," she interrupted, her eyes narrowing.

"Perhaps for you, Miss Friitawa. But if you only have one strategy, you are most likely to always fail once someone figures it out. If you just have fear, there is likely someone who has the courage to push past the boundaries to strike you, which is what Miss Albright did that night on the rooftop, didn't she?"

Friitawa growled, her eyes flashing dangerously from beneath her blonde bangs. "Get to the point, Ra's," she hissed at him, her hands clenched into fists.

His eyes narrowed, and he clenched a hand on the scimitar at his side. "Watch your tone, Friitawa. Need I remind who is keeping you alive?"

The scientist scowled, before sighing in defeat. She would let this go, for now. It wouldn't pay to get so far and suddenly find herself dying because of her quick temper. "Very well. Now what are you trying to say?"

The terrorist's eyes gleamed, slowly sliding his hand back to his side. "As I was saying, fear isn't the only thing that you need to control a city. Power and position are just as important as the fear you cling to so dearly. Combine power with fear, and you can get anything."

"And how exactly would you provide that power, hmm? Last time, I had the combined support of Black Mask and the Scarebeast and yet I was still defeated. How exactly would you make sure that our plan succeeded when even that failed?" she said, still skeptical of his supposed plan.

"Simple," Ra's replied, a smirk spreading across his face. "Who's more powerful than Black Mask?"

Friitawa grinned. "I believe I understand, Ra's. Now, what is my mission?"

Crane flipped another page of his book, his eyes occasionally glancing up from his book to peer irritably at the guard in front of his cell. He had been denied his usual textbook of diagnoses and fears, so he had to settle for the exciting but harmless tales of Harry Potter.

Not that he minded that much. He could see why his dear Becky enjoyed the series. But still, although he looked relaxed, or as much as he could, considering he was in Arkham, his mind was restless. He had no idea if she had gotten his message yet or the map that he had drawn with invisible ink he had created from his own blood.

He leaned over to look at the empty bed beneath him and stifled a sigh. He still had no idea where Tetch was, and to honest with himself, he was starting to worry. He had no idea if the smaller man was even alive, or what had happened to him and Alice since the night of the Scarebeast. For all he knew, the one he considered his best friend could be dead.

He shook his head. He's probably fine. Stop worrying about it; he scolded himself, flipping another page with his thumb.

But, now that he had time to think about it, there was something strange going on around the Arkham. He had heard whispering and murmuring from the guards, not to mention that the previous warden, Jeremiah Arkham, was now in custody and a new warden had been appointed as head of the Asylum.

He had a bad feeling about this new Warden. Something was up with him, and not just with his pompous manner and old-fashioned views. Something sinister lurked beneath his eyes, something that spelled danger for both him and everyone locked in the Asylum. Not to mention, on his insomnia-induced wandering through the vents, he had seen him conversing with another psychologist that worked here called Dr. Strange. That man could not be trusted, and he would bet his associate couldn't either.

He rubbed his eyes, adjusting the glasses on the tip of his nose, his gaze drifting towards the analog clock in the hall above him. 7:50. Four more hours to go, he thought, glancing at the vent in his room. Soon, if all went well, he and Becky would be free.

Meanwhile, back in her cell, Becky studied the paper before her, analyzing it.

Why would Crane just write a message like this? I mean, he could have just passed the words onto Ivy and be done with it. But no, he chose to write it here. There must be more than just this, she thought, turning the paper over, around, and even sideways, yet she couldn't see the reason why Jonathan had given this to her. She knew how valuable paper was in the Asylum, and from the ragged edges near the side, she could tell he had torn it out of a book. And with such a love for books, Crane would never just tear out a page unless it was incredibly important.

Suddenly, she had an idea. Placing the paper under the light, she lightly withdrew a fractured piece of glass from the side of her cell door, probably broken off during one of the many escape attempts by the previous cellmate.

Piece in hand, and careful to keep herself from being cut, she held the glass up to the light, focusing the light on the piece of paper in front of her. She gasped as she saw the brownish-red ink start to appear on the back of the page.

Quickly snatching it up, Becky hurriedly shielded herself from view, allowing her to read the paper in peace. She could see that it was some kind of map of the Penitentiary, containing hidden vent shafts between the cells and the outside area of the prison.

She looked at where her cell was marked, and began to plan out where she would go. She needed to go once lights out was called and she also needed a way to fool the guards into thinking she was in her cell once she escaped. It wouldn't do to be caught before she even had a chance to get out of the building.

But how would she fool the guards long enough to make her escape?

That's when she hit upon an idea.

That night, as the guards made their rounds, Crane was ready. His double was in place, a couple of pillows he had tied together to look like his body and face, and the vent cover was already loosened and ready to pry off. All he needed now was for the guard to pass by and he would be ready to go.

1… 2…. 3… 4… he counted in his head, watching as the guard paced down the hall, waiting with bated breath as he passed him by, letting out a sigh of relief once he was gone.

Pulling the vent cover off, he squeezed into the narrow opening, pulling the vent cover up as he went. Slowly, he crawled through the vent, careful to keep his footsteps muffled. He stopped at an intersection, turning left and heading towards Becky's cell. He would check to make sure she was already on the move before heading towards the supply room to gather his costume and Becky's cane.

He looked through the slits in the vent, peering carefully down at her bed. He could see the pillow dummy that Becky had prepared was in place, and took it as a sign that she was on the move.

Taking a right down the next shaft, he headed towards the supply room.

Becky looked out through the grate, making sure that none of the guards had seen her before sliding the cover back on, crawling through the narrow shaft. She grunted softly, not used to being in this position as she army-crawled through the vents, the map clutched in her fists as she navigated the maze of tunnels before her.

At an intersection, she stopped to check her location, her ears perked for any sound that might be coming her way. She hoped she would run into Jonathan before she made it out. It would help to have someone familiar with the layout of this place, as well as someone that would have her back if she was caught.

As she placed her knees upon one of the individual panels, it slipped off, nearly causing her to loose her balance and fall to the floor below her before she caught the rim of the next panel. Quickly, lest any of the guards decided to pass by, she quickly clambered back up to the vents, uttering a sigh of relief.

She smiled as she saw a light up ahead. Perhaps that would be her way out.

Crane looked at the supply closet with frustration, its contents stacked as far as the eye could see with countless stacks of costumes, canes, hats, and any other assorted accessories that had been confiscated from the Rogues by the institution. He stalked past a few sets, hastily rifling through clothes looking for his and Becky's costumes.

It would be easier to blend in with them on once they had gotten out of the Asylum. The orange jumpsuits they currently wore were dead giveaways that they were escapees and would result in a rather easy capture for the authorities and Batman. But with their costumes' darker colors, it would be easier to blend into the shadows and make their escape far easier, especially since they possessed very little brawn to force their way out.

He heard a sound coming from the vent he had previously entered, and he froze, his eyes peering fearfully up at the vent. If the Bat had gotten in…

But he had nothing to fear, as a few minutes later his partner-in-crime dropped down from the vent.

"Huh? This isn't the outside," she muttered, looking all around her at the cluttered room.

"Becky?" Crane said, peeking out from behind a coat rack full of costumes.

"Oh, there you are, Jon," she replied, running towards him. "How far are we from the entrance?"

"Not far, but hush," he replied, putting a finger to his lips. "We need to move quickly. Somewhere in this mess are our costumes and your cane. Help me look for it before the guards get here."

She nodded, hurriedly digging through the costumes in front of her. She found Edward's emerald suit-jacket, Harley's Harlequin costume, and even what she presumed to be the burned remains of one of Two-Face's pants, but not a sign of her costume or Jonathan's.

Looking around, she smiled as she spotted her cane squished between two of the Riddler's golden question mark canes.

"Found the cane, Jon," she hissed, waving it up into the air for him to see.

"Good," he whispered back. "And I found our costumes. Now, all we need to find is our masks."

That's when he heard the pounding of feet and the shrill squeak of the door opening as guards came pouring in, quickly surrounding the two criminals, their guns raised and ready to shoot.

He cursed. This wasn't part of the plan. He had hoped that the pillow dummy would fool them into believing that they were sound asleep in their rooms, but it seemed that luck was not on his side tonight. He backed up, his shoulder touching Becky's as he glared piercingly at the guards.

"What do we do, Jon?" Becky whispered into his ear, her eyes wide with fear at the guns pointed at her and her love. She had no idea how they would get out of this without being shot dead.

He smirked, quickly slipping a canister of fear gas into her hand. "On the count of three, we rush them."

The guards eyed them nervously, cocking their guns as they prepared for what the couple would throw at them.

"One…"

The guards inched closer.

"Two…"

Becky glanced at Jonathan, taking a deep breath and preparing to run. She hoped this plan of his worked.

"Three…"

As one, they rushed the guards, fear gas streaming from the canisters in their hands as the guards opened fire. Jonathan rolled to the side, barely avoiding a stray bullet from one of the guards as he glanced at Becky, making sure that she was still alive. This was an incredibly risky endeavor, and he really hoped that they would get out of here alive.

A flash of pain engulfed him as a bullet struck him in the shoulder, causing him to yelp, clutching his shoulder to try to staunch the bleeding.

"Jon!" Becky yelped, her eyes glowing green with anger as she plowed into the guards, her fear giving her extra strength as she fought to reach him. With a snarl, she threw off the guards trying to hold her back as she reached out for her partner, not even noticing the fact that several bullets had pierced her shoulders and arms, blood covering the back of her jumpsuit as she took his hand and ran for the exit, her feet flying through the halls and corridors of Arkham as she plowed through the guards blocking her path towards the outside doors.

Jonathan panted, his right hand clutching his shoulder as he struggled to keep up with her. Outside, he could hear the loud alarm bells clamoring as they made their escape, his eyes clenched in pain. He had no idea where they were going or how far away the guards were from them, but knew that they were almost past the gate.

"Stay with me, Jon. We're almost out!" Becky shouted above the noise, her hand clenching his like he was her lifeline, hurtling through the rusty, iron gates of Arkham Asylum and into the night.