Hey, guys. I am sooooooooooooo sorry this is so late. A lot has happened since Thanksgiving. First my computer crashed right before finals started, and couldn't be fixed until after Christmas. Then, my Grandmommy died two weeks after Christmas, school started, and then I got a new roommate. So, in a nutshell, thing's haven't been going as planned lately. Luckily, I have two days off weekly from college (I know, lucky right :D), so I should be getting chapters done faster, homework considering.
Thank you all for being so patient with me.
After doing one final check to make sure the trophies were in the appropriate place, Becky exited her hiding place, letting out a sigh as she had to, yet again, crawl through another vent cover. Geez, how many vents does one asylum need? And some of the places where they're placed don't make sense at all. I mean, shouldn't these vents lead outside or to a centralized airflow somewhere? she thought in exasperation, getting back on her hands and knees as she crawled through the vent, freezing as she heard the steady click of the guard's shoes.
Great, another guard. And I don't have any fear gas left to scare him away from the opening, she thought, as she rifled through the pockets of her dress for the pellets, only to find nothing. She glanced at her cane, and suddenly had an idea. Switching it to its flamethrower setting, she eased the opening of the cane through the slit in the grate, aiming it directly at her enemy's shoes.
She pulled the trigger, watching with a snicker as the guard started screaming, jumping up and down as he tried to slip out of his burning shoes, hopping away to cool his flaming feet as she shoved the grating harshly to the ground, crawling out quietly as she crept around the corridor, kneeling behind the wall as the guard came running back, sans shoes, and growled at the hidden villainess.
"I know you're here," he snarled, his gun cocked and his finger to the trigger, his sights flickering this way and that on the linoleum floor. "Show yourself!"
With a grin, Becky slid her cane out in front of her, its crook yanking the man's foot out from under him as she brought it above her head, sending the butt of the cane down on the man's forehead, knocking him out cold.
"Nighty-night, knucklehead," she cooed, slipping the guard's I.D. from the clip on his belt as she merrily skipped towards the open door overlooking the aviary. Looking down, she spotted at least five guards patrolling the area, not thinking to look up at the trespasser above them. Several grates dotted the area where the guards patrolled, making a potential path that she could use, moderately concealed by the dense shrubbery in the area.
The smell was much stronger here. She was close. All that stood between her now was a handful of guards. "Now, which one do I start with?" she muttered, looking between the guards as if trying to decide which meal she wanted to eat at a local fast-food restaurant.
Choosing her target, she leaped down from her perch, a sly smile on her face as she stalked her prey.
As Crane pushed the door open into the library, he frowned as he looked at the hundreds of books stacked before him, stretching several stories down from his level into the underground.
"Hmm, now in which book would our good doctor hide that formula?" he muttered to himself, his fingers lightly brushing the spines of the books as he peered at the titles. He tried to recall what he knew of Dr. Young. She was young, 25, the same age as Becky, he noted absently, graduated at the top of her class at Gotham University, earning her doctorates for Sociology and Psychology at Yale. Her major realm of study was in...
Suddenly, Crane knew immediately what he was looking for. Running downstairs to the bottom level, he traced his fingers along the spines of the books before suddenly stopping and pulling out a book on the study of social psychology. Flipping through the book, he stopped at the section that spoke about the correspondence bias. He turned the page, and was about to keep going when he spotted the small sheet of paper neatly folded into the crease in the spine, nearly looking like another page itself.
He smiled, proceeding to unfold the sheet of paper and see what this Titan project was supposed to be. His blood turned to ice as he read over the paper once, then twice, trying to confirm what he was reading was not just a hallucination.
"This…This is worse than I thought," he whispered, his eyes wide and frightened. "Those idiots cannot be serious! They cannot possibly know what they are dealing with!"
Tucking the note and book back in its place, he scrambled towards the exit, shouldering his way through the door as he raced towards the exit, panic propelling his legs through the corridor with frightening despite how fast he was going, the corridor just seemed to be getting longer and longer. And no matter how quickly he moved, he seemed no further from his goal than he was to begin.
Crane stopped for a minute, trying to catch his breath. Something was wrong. He should be at the door by now. "What's going on?" he cried, a feeling of dread starting to creep up his spine.
He was answered by an ear-piercing screech, the intensity of the sound ringing in his ears as he flinched, covering his ears with his hands.
Suddenly, the southern corridor transformed from its space of desks and filing cabinets to an open field. Night suddenly turned to day, illuminating the fields of wheat before him as far as the eye could see. In the distance, he could spy an old church, its ancient stone walls crumbling in on itself as the field began to overtake the old building.
"Am I…dreaming?" he asked himself, staring at the familiar fields in front of him, his legs brushing against the wheat stalks as he slowly, mechanically, started walking. His mind was still in a state of disbelief, trying to convince him that it was just a hallucination or a dream, yet it was constantly being disproved by just how lucid and real this so-called dream became.
After what felt like an hour of walking, Crane suddenly came to a stop besides a large cross-like object. Confused, he reached out to touch it, and was suddenly reminded of the scarecrow he used to rest by in his childhood. Beneath it, just barely visible between the stalks of wheat, were bones, bleached white from scavengers and the sun, sitting scattered below his feet.
With a start, he realized just where he was. This was Granny's home, his former home back in Arlem, Georgia. And, he knew, below his feet was the bones of his Granny, the bones of the one he had murdered in twisted karmatic justice by sending a flock of crows upon her. He looked up at the naked scarecrow pole, the wood suddenly carved into the words asking one thing: DO YOU REGRET?
Becky smiled as she looked down at her handiwork. Five unconscious guards were scattered around the room, taser gun cables hooked into their uniforms, confetti from the gun sprayed all over their limp forms.
"Hmm, I guess the security here is as bad as they say," she said, blowing lightly on the taser rifle in her hand. It had been child's play to knock out the first guard and steal his gun, then proceed through the other guards as quietly as possible. The only trouble she ran into was the guard in the control tower. That one had been tricky, but luckily, she had the element of surprise and was able to ambush him before he had a chance to respond.
Now that Becky had time to focus on her surroundings and not on the guards, she could definitely detect the reeking smell coming from the walls. Following her nose, she was led to a small outcropping on the other side of the room. As she came closer, she let out a cough, trying to drive the smell away from her. Now that she was so close, the smell of disinfectant and burnt oil was so strong that she was starting to gag. She looked at the stone wall in front of her. This was definitely the place.
But how do I get in there? She thought, feeling around the wall for any kind of secret panel or stone she could remove to find the access point. "Aha!" she exclaimed as she pulled a brick out of place, revealing a key-card slot.
She looked at the tag she had taken from the guard earlier. Let's just hope this works, she thought, mentally crossing her fingers as she slid the key card into the slot.
With a happy beep, the light on the reader flashed green and the rocks parted, revealing a closed, metal door with a small doorknob. Taking a deep breath and preparing herself for whatever she would find, Becky slowly pushed opened the door.
The stench of bleached oil hit her like a punch in the face, sending her reeling back a step from the overpowering scent, her eyes watering. For a split second, she considered closing the door and walking away, but her curiosity stayed her feet, preventing her from turning away. When she was finally able to open her eyes, she was astounded by what she saw.
The room was huge, spanning at least ten feet above her head and twice as much in width. The fluorescent lights inside gave off little room for dark shadows, leaving her unable to hide. The floors and walls glowed with green, liquid running quickly through the see-through pipes in the floor and walls, halfway covered by the plants around it.
What on earth is this place? And what is that green liquid? She thought, her low-heeled shoes clacking on the glass beneath her. She could see a few of the staff here, their white coats reflecting the tinted green of their surroundings. They didn't look like any of the Arkham psychologists or doctors she had ever seen, and their faces were covered by gas masks.
Thankfully, they didn't seem to have noticed her, too caught up in the research they were doing to glance up from their work. Becky took a few steps forward, wincing every time her shoes clacked in the nearly silent laboratory. She knew she had no reason to be here, and she knew security wouldn't be long coming if these scientists even so much as glanced away from their machines.
For some reason, looking at the swirling liquid, she couldn't help but feel mesmerized by the color, the glowing green luring her forward. Stretching out, she touched her hand against the glass.
So drawn to the glow was she that Becky didn't notice one of the scientists bump his friend, pointing directly at her. She didn't notice, that is, until one of them spoke up.
"What are you doing here?" growled a researcher, his voice distorted by the mask he was wearing.
Becky gasped, turning around to face the man, who was slowly inching closer to her. Her mind began to panic a little as she slowly took a step back.
"Um, I-I.." Becky stammered, mentally smacking herself for being so foolish. Standing around in the open was not her smartest idea.
"This facility is off-limits to anyone not authorized. Please state your intentions," he barked, taking a step closer to her, his hands outstretched as if to grab her.
"I-I…" she stammered again, her panic preventing her mind from thinking up a suitable plan of attack. C'mon, Becky, you were once one of the best debaters in your class, she thought to herself, trying to clear her head. You can bluff your way out of here. "Of course I'm authorized here," she lied, rummaging through her pockets for her keycard. "I have my keycard right here. See!" she said, flashing her keycard quickly.
The man caught her hand, looking hard at the keycard. "Unless you had a sex change and your name changed to a Mark Hamilton, I don't think this is your keycard."
Becky blushed, a nervous smile on her face as she turned the card around, almost smacking herself for forgetting to change it out with another guard's out in the other area. "Oops," she whispered.
The man didn't hesitate. "Security!" he yelled, smashing down on a button on one of the compartments. The sound of alarms echoing in the large, glassy room and the yell of "Security!" pushed her over the edge. Her eyes now glowing as green as the liquid in the room, she yanked her hand away with inhuman force, landing a kick that sent the man flying across the room and into the glass. With a shout, the other scientists rushed towards her, intent on keeping her away from the door.
Her mind stuck in panic, Becky didn't realize her own strength as she plowed into the group, her body in a flurry as she punched and kicked anything that was nearby, intent on getting away at any cost. So intent was she, that she ignored the pain that erupted through her arm as a pruning scalpel pierced her flesh, sending droplets of blood flowing from her ulna down to the floor. With the scalpel still embedded, she punched one of the men in her way, the force shattering the man's rib cage as he fell to the floor, howling in pain. With a sharp roundhouse kick, she sent another into the wall, smashing the glass display and severely denting the liquid container, sending small trickles of liquid down onto the floor and onto the man, his screams deafening as it started to eat through his arm.
Immediately, the sound of gunfire could be heard, but Becky paid no attention. Her head was still clouded with panic; her body numb to the bullets piercing through flesh as she fought like a Viking Berserker. With a swipe, she sent one guard flying, her heartbeat racing madly inside her chest as another guard shot at her, the bullets missing her head by mere centimeters as she crashed into him, knocking him away as she slammed against the door, scrambling madly against it before reaching the knob and yanking it hard.
With a roar, she leaped out of the door, not daring to stop until she was outside of the Gardens. She had only one thought now: Escape.
