Disclaimer: The Mad Hatter, Arkham Asylum, and the Batman are the property
of DC Comics and Warner Bros. I promise to return them when I'm done.
Galumphing Back
The sound of labored breathing and a light gait echoes through the vacant hallway. Each footfall sounds with the tapping of soles on tiled floor. A shadow moves quickly down the corridor, running as though Lucifer himself is breathing down his neck. The black-and-white, checkered linoleum sharply contrasts with the besmirched gray walls.
Jervis Tetch, also known as the Mad Hatter, tears around a corner, keeping a hand tightly clenched around an oversized, double action revolver. The other hand grips the brim of his hat. The gun holds four more rounds. He will have to make each shot count if he is to escape the wraith that pursues him.
"I'm late, I'm late," he murmurs under his breath.
***
For the past three weeks, Tetch had been using the abandoned Sale Orphanage as a base of operations. Several of his "minions" were sent out for a routine robbery earlier, the plan was to hit one of the syndicate-operated casinos. The plan was precise; it was prompt. in a word, perfect. While several (heavily armed) thugs covered the guards, two more ripped off the cash handlers and exchangers. After they had the money, one of the sentinels shot a guard to show they were serious about killing any and all who attempted to stop or follow them. The Hatter was a block away, monitoring the action from the passenger seat of an armored van. The driver already had the vehicle started, awaiting the return of his colleagues. They never made it.
The silent alarm was triggered during the robbery. The Batman was at the scene before they even exited the building. He allowed one to escape. The felon made a beeline for the van, not bothering to notice the Bat in tow.
Tetch listened to the receiver in his hatband; a heavy scowl covered his face. As he glanced at the rearview mirror, he saw the remaining drone running towards the van. He leaned out the window and moved the mirror upwards. He slowly exhaled a breath as he saw the telltale shadow of the bat, watching from a rooftop.
"Oh. no." he whispered. His brow creased as his scowl turned further down his visage.
"Stuff and nonsense!" Tetch said loudly as he opened the van door. "The idea of having the sentence first!"
He reached into his coat, withdrawing his double action, Colt revolver. The gun was slightly oversized, a twelve-inch barrel jutting out from the frame. As the felon approached, Tetch leveled the weapon and fired a single shot into the man's chest.
"The time has come," he hissed through gritted teeth.
He quickly returned to his place in the van, closing the door after him. "I think it's time to leave," Tetch twittered, glancing at the driver. "Don't you?"
The driver pressed the pedal to the floor and the van lurched frontward. The Hatter fretfully looked in the mirror to observe a small flicker of light appear from the darkness behind them.
"What, in the name of Carroll, was that?" he thought to himself.
Tetch relaxed in his seat, seeing no sign of the Bat pursuing them. The van sped off into the night, heading towards the old orphanage.
Once the vehicle stopped, Tetch made a hasty exit and ambled around the backend of the van, his weapon still in hand. A small object on the bumper caught his attention. Upon closer inspection, he realized what the object was. A tracking device.
"What is this?!" he cried.
The driver came running around the side. He glanced down and paled.
"I don't know, Mr. Hatter, sir."
"What?!" Tetch screamed.
"Umm. I think it might be a tracer, sir."
"Then you should say what you mean," Tetch rasped.
"I'm sorry, sir, but."
"When I use a word," Tetch interrupted. "It means just what I choose it to mean. neither more or less."
The Mad Hatter raised his gun and impulsively fired a bullet into the driver's brainpan. He took a slow breath through his nostrils, the smell of gunpowder invading his senses. Tetch looked down at the tracer and pried it off with his fingernails. He brought his heel down on it, crushing the device.
"Perhaps he didn't have time."
A familiar droning emanated in the distance. The Batmobile.
The Hatter placed a hand atop his hat, holding it in place, and scampered off into the bowels of the orphanage.
***
His olive overcoat flowing behind him, Tetch makes his way to the orphanage's derelict nursery. It isn't the most secure room in the building, but definitely the easiest to take cover. He knows that hiding is his best bet in this situation. As he enters the dark room, he gently shuts the door behind him.
Old toys are scattered throughout the playroom, cobwebs had collected in the nooks and crannies. Colossal stuffed animals sit upright in the corners. The shadows play across the span; the moonlight shining through the barred windows play on the mottled, mossy wallpaper. The chimera of a forest plays throughout the room. Tetch looks about the room, his mouth slightly agape. Slowly, softly, Tetch began reciting.
"`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."
A creaking noise outside the door startles the Hatter, halting his recital.
A shadow moves in front of the frosted glass. The unmistakable outline of the Bat turns towards the entry. Tetch slaps both hands over his mouth and slowly backs up to the far wall.
In an instant, the door crashes open and falls to the floor. The lone form of the Batman fills the doorframe.
"You're going back to Arkham tonight," the Bat voices in a low growl.
Tetch's left hand holds his revolver at arm length; his other hand is hidden in his viridian trench coat.
"Drop the gun."
The Hatter sighed, tossing the weapon into the shadows. His other hand gradually reaches towards the concealed machete, tucked along his left side.
The Batman takes a menacing step forward, his shadow eclipsing Tetch's diminutive stature.
"Fritter my wig." the Hatter mumbled.
"You need help, Tetch." A sincerity of the shadow's assertion lingers in the space between the two men.
As the Bat takes another step forward, Tetch grasps the machete and lashes out. The shimmering blade slashes across the insignia adorning the Bat's chest. As the Bat clutches at his carved chest, Tetch glowers at the Dark Knight, continuing his recital.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
The Mad Hatter drew back the blade, preparing for another strike at the staggered detective.
"He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought.
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought."
Tetch brings the blade down with surprising speed, only to have the Bat roll out from under the knife's path. Gotham's Defender comes out of the roll into a fighting stance.
"I don't want to hurt you, Tetch."
The Hatter looks fiercely at his adversary, continuing to yell at him.
"And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!"
The Bat lunges at Tetch, tackling him. The Hatter's head slams into the floor. His teeth bite down into his tongue, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth. The villain manages to work the blade along the Batman's arm, slicing through the sheath protecting the Dark Knight's arm. While the Bat fights to subdue and capture, the Hatter fights to exterminate and escape.
"One, two! One, two! And through and through. The vorpal blade went snicker- snack!" Tetch seethes, a trace of crimson showing around his lips.
The Batman rolls off Tetch, grabbing at his cleaved forearm. The Hatter seizes the opportunity. He swiftly dives to where he threw the gun. The barrel of the gun, peering out from under a mammoth teddy bear's leg, commands Tetch's interest. He picks up the gun, cradling it like an infant child before spinning and firing three shots in fast succession at his nemesis.
The Mad Hatter's first two shots miss the Caped Crusader, the third bites deep into his thigh. The Bat staggers and drops, landing on his hewed wing. Tetch slowly approaches his fallen foe, keeping the revolver trained between the Bat's stone cold eyes.
"He left it dead, and with its head. He went galumphing back," Tetch denounces, pulling back the hammer.
As the Hatter's finger twitches on the trigger, a boot lands solidly on the side of his head. The gun shudders as the trigger clicks. A bullet grazes the Batman's shoulder, though he fails to take notice. The Dark Knight picks up the stunned villain and throws him through the gaping doorway, sending him crashing through the door across the hall. The Bat limps into the empty room and picks up Tetch with his good arm. He brings him close to his cowled visage.
"It's over."
The Hatter groans slightly. "And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?"
The Caped Crusader drops the felon, removes a pair of zip-cuffs from his belt, and restrains Tetch's hands behind his back. With a grip of iron, he directs Hatter out to the front lawn. Flashing red-and-blue lights approach in the distance.
"Yes, yes. All his horses and all his men," Tetch sighs. "They'd pick me up again in a minute, they would."
"Yes, they will," states the Bat.
"You just don't understand, do you?" Tetch murmurs in an unexpectedly direct question.
"Understand what?"
"Nothing," he says, turning his head.
***
As Tetch is being loaded into the back of a prison transport, he hangs his head at the stern stares from the officers. Several mutterings of "demented" and "freak" can be heard.
After the doors to the van shut, Tetch hangs his head. "I cannot go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."
Galumphing Back
The sound of labored breathing and a light gait echoes through the vacant hallway. Each footfall sounds with the tapping of soles on tiled floor. A shadow moves quickly down the corridor, running as though Lucifer himself is breathing down his neck. The black-and-white, checkered linoleum sharply contrasts with the besmirched gray walls.
Jervis Tetch, also known as the Mad Hatter, tears around a corner, keeping a hand tightly clenched around an oversized, double action revolver. The other hand grips the brim of his hat. The gun holds four more rounds. He will have to make each shot count if he is to escape the wraith that pursues him.
"I'm late, I'm late," he murmurs under his breath.
***
For the past three weeks, Tetch had been using the abandoned Sale Orphanage as a base of operations. Several of his "minions" were sent out for a routine robbery earlier, the plan was to hit one of the syndicate-operated casinos. The plan was precise; it was prompt. in a word, perfect. While several (heavily armed) thugs covered the guards, two more ripped off the cash handlers and exchangers. After they had the money, one of the sentinels shot a guard to show they were serious about killing any and all who attempted to stop or follow them. The Hatter was a block away, monitoring the action from the passenger seat of an armored van. The driver already had the vehicle started, awaiting the return of his colleagues. They never made it.
The silent alarm was triggered during the robbery. The Batman was at the scene before they even exited the building. He allowed one to escape. The felon made a beeline for the van, not bothering to notice the Bat in tow.
Tetch listened to the receiver in his hatband; a heavy scowl covered his face. As he glanced at the rearview mirror, he saw the remaining drone running towards the van. He leaned out the window and moved the mirror upwards. He slowly exhaled a breath as he saw the telltale shadow of the bat, watching from a rooftop.
"Oh. no." he whispered. His brow creased as his scowl turned further down his visage.
"Stuff and nonsense!" Tetch said loudly as he opened the van door. "The idea of having the sentence first!"
He reached into his coat, withdrawing his double action, Colt revolver. The gun was slightly oversized, a twelve-inch barrel jutting out from the frame. As the felon approached, Tetch leveled the weapon and fired a single shot into the man's chest.
"The time has come," he hissed through gritted teeth.
He quickly returned to his place in the van, closing the door after him. "I think it's time to leave," Tetch twittered, glancing at the driver. "Don't you?"
The driver pressed the pedal to the floor and the van lurched frontward. The Hatter fretfully looked in the mirror to observe a small flicker of light appear from the darkness behind them.
"What, in the name of Carroll, was that?" he thought to himself.
Tetch relaxed in his seat, seeing no sign of the Bat pursuing them. The van sped off into the night, heading towards the old orphanage.
Once the vehicle stopped, Tetch made a hasty exit and ambled around the backend of the van, his weapon still in hand. A small object on the bumper caught his attention. Upon closer inspection, he realized what the object was. A tracking device.
"What is this?!" he cried.
The driver came running around the side. He glanced down and paled.
"I don't know, Mr. Hatter, sir."
"What?!" Tetch screamed.
"Umm. I think it might be a tracer, sir."
"Then you should say what you mean," Tetch rasped.
"I'm sorry, sir, but."
"When I use a word," Tetch interrupted. "It means just what I choose it to mean. neither more or less."
The Mad Hatter raised his gun and impulsively fired a bullet into the driver's brainpan. He took a slow breath through his nostrils, the smell of gunpowder invading his senses. Tetch looked down at the tracer and pried it off with his fingernails. He brought his heel down on it, crushing the device.
"Perhaps he didn't have time."
A familiar droning emanated in the distance. The Batmobile.
The Hatter placed a hand atop his hat, holding it in place, and scampered off into the bowels of the orphanage.
***
His olive overcoat flowing behind him, Tetch makes his way to the orphanage's derelict nursery. It isn't the most secure room in the building, but definitely the easiest to take cover. He knows that hiding is his best bet in this situation. As he enters the dark room, he gently shuts the door behind him.
Old toys are scattered throughout the playroom, cobwebs had collected in the nooks and crannies. Colossal stuffed animals sit upright in the corners. The shadows play across the span; the moonlight shining through the barred windows play on the mottled, mossy wallpaper. The chimera of a forest plays throughout the room. Tetch looks about the room, his mouth slightly agape. Slowly, softly, Tetch began reciting.
"`Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe."
A creaking noise outside the door startles the Hatter, halting his recital.
A shadow moves in front of the frosted glass. The unmistakable outline of the Bat turns towards the entry. Tetch slaps both hands over his mouth and slowly backs up to the far wall.
In an instant, the door crashes open and falls to the floor. The lone form of the Batman fills the doorframe.
"You're going back to Arkham tonight," the Bat voices in a low growl.
Tetch's left hand holds his revolver at arm length; his other hand is hidden in his viridian trench coat.
"Drop the gun."
The Hatter sighed, tossing the weapon into the shadows. His other hand gradually reaches towards the concealed machete, tucked along his left side.
The Batman takes a menacing step forward, his shadow eclipsing Tetch's diminutive stature.
"Fritter my wig." the Hatter mumbled.
"You need help, Tetch." A sincerity of the shadow's assertion lingers in the space between the two men.
As the Bat takes another step forward, Tetch grasps the machete and lashes out. The shimmering blade slashes across the insignia adorning the Bat's chest. As the Bat clutches at his carved chest, Tetch glowers at the Dark Knight, continuing his recital.
"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!"
The Mad Hatter drew back the blade, preparing for another strike at the staggered detective.
"He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought.
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought."
Tetch brings the blade down with surprising speed, only to have the Bat roll out from under the knife's path. Gotham's Defender comes out of the roll into a fighting stance.
"I don't want to hurt you, Tetch."
The Hatter looks fiercely at his adversary, continuing to yell at him.
"And, as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!"
The Bat lunges at Tetch, tackling him. The Hatter's head slams into the floor. His teeth bite down into his tongue, the bitter taste of blood filling his mouth. The villain manages to work the blade along the Batman's arm, slicing through the sheath protecting the Dark Knight's arm. While the Bat fights to subdue and capture, the Hatter fights to exterminate and escape.
"One, two! One, two! And through and through. The vorpal blade went snicker- snack!" Tetch seethes, a trace of crimson showing around his lips.
The Batman rolls off Tetch, grabbing at his cleaved forearm. The Hatter seizes the opportunity. He swiftly dives to where he threw the gun. The barrel of the gun, peering out from under a mammoth teddy bear's leg, commands Tetch's interest. He picks up the gun, cradling it like an infant child before spinning and firing three shots in fast succession at his nemesis.
The Mad Hatter's first two shots miss the Caped Crusader, the third bites deep into his thigh. The Bat staggers and drops, landing on his hewed wing. Tetch slowly approaches his fallen foe, keeping the revolver trained between the Bat's stone cold eyes.
"He left it dead, and with its head. He went galumphing back," Tetch denounces, pulling back the hammer.
As the Hatter's finger twitches on the trigger, a boot lands solidly on the side of his head. The gun shudders as the trigger clicks. A bullet grazes the Batman's shoulder, though he fails to take notice. The Dark Knight picks up the stunned villain and throws him through the gaping doorway, sending him crashing through the door across the hall. The Bat limps into the empty room and picks up Tetch with his good arm. He brings him close to his cowled visage.
"It's over."
The Hatter groans slightly. "And, has thou slain the Jabberwock?"
The Caped Crusader drops the felon, removes a pair of zip-cuffs from his belt, and restrains Tetch's hands behind his back. With a grip of iron, he directs Hatter out to the front lawn. Flashing red-and-blue lights approach in the distance.
"Yes, yes. All his horses and all his men," Tetch sighs. "They'd pick me up again in a minute, they would."
"Yes, they will," states the Bat.
"You just don't understand, do you?" Tetch murmurs in an unexpectedly direct question.
"Understand what?"
"Nothing," he says, turning his head.
***
As Tetch is being loaded into the back of a prison transport, he hangs his head at the stern stares from the officers. Several mutterings of "demented" and "freak" can be heard.
After the doors to the van shut, Tetch hangs his head. "I cannot go back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."