"So you want him dead?" Hayden Castle asked, looking hard at the young man
that he had grown up with. "That's not like you. I mean, not that I won't
do it for you Big J but still..."
"It's hard to explain Haystack," Reese said, gazing across at his old friend. A red light from a neon sign overhead flashed color onto the man's face. It was drizzling out but neither seemed to notice.
They were both too caught up in the past.
It'd been almost a year since he had spent anytime with the boy he had grown up with. They had both been the only sons of major crime lords. The only difference was, Hayden had gone into the family business.
He was a hitman for hire.
It'd been hard to maintain their friendship after that revelation had been made so they had both settled on just keeping their distance from each other. For two old friends who had shared just about everything together, it'd been pure hell.
"So try Jess," Hayden said, winding his fingers through his dark blonde hair. He was tall; maybe six foot four inches. His body was lean and cut though and he might have even been a beautiful man if not for the inch long cut underneath his jaw. Something about one of his hits going bad. Long story and all of that.
"Look, this Jared Kelly guy, I need to know how alive he is. That's why I called you on the way here. I figured you could find out easier than I could."
"Probably true," Hayden nodded. "And yeah, talked to a buddy of mine in the infirmary."
"And?"
"They say the guy is pretty much toast. He has brain activity but in all the wrong places. Don't have a fucking clue what that means," Hayden muttered. He pushed himself away from the hood of his car and crossed over to where Reese was leaning against an alley wall. "So what did you need then?"
Reese took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Take care of him for me."
"Sure bro," Hayden said, eyes narrowed. "I don't get it though. What's going on with you? What'd this Kelly dude do to you?"
"Not to me exactly..."
"A girl? He fuck a girl of yours?"
"Not exactly..."
"Jesse, you gotta talk to me," Hayden insisted, his tone almost a desperate plea. Reese could hear a Boston accent pushing it's way through; Hayden had spent altogether too much in Massachusetts handling his old man's affairs.
Reese shook his head. "Look, will you help me out or not?"
Hayden nodded. "You have to ask? Of course. Dead right?"
"Can you wake him up?"
"Still trying to be the Boy Scout," Hayden laughed. Then he shook his head. "Expected that of you so I checked. They say no. Fried bacon bro."
"Then yeah," Reese replied thickly. "I don't want to know how...just do it."
Hayden crossed over to Reese and put a hand on his old friends' shoulder. "One of these days, Jess..."
Reese smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, one of these days Haystack."
"We'll sit down and knock some beers and broads huh?"
"Yeah," Reese replied, knowing full well that that day would never come. He rather suspected that he wouldn't want to see Hayden again after all of this was over; wouldn't want to be reminded of what he was capable of. "Hey, do me a favor huh?"
"After all you've done to keep me from being pushed behind bars? Name it."
"Don't let my dad find out. I mean, that I was part...that I..."
"He won't hear it from me," Hayden promised.
"Thanks," Reese said. He put out his hand towards Hayden. Castle looked at it for a long moment and then reached across and embraced Jesse hard.
"Not a fool enough to know that it'll ever be good between us again Jess but I still love you like my brother. Always will."
"Me too Hayden," Reese assured him. "Me too."
"I don't like this," Helena muttered. "I don't want to be put in a coma. I want to fight him. I should have that right."
"I don't disagree," Barbara insisted. "But you are killing yourself. We can't...I won't take that risk."
Helena dropped her head and stared down at the ground. "Figures my attitude would eventually kill me."
"So have you changed your mind about therapy? Are you saying when this is all done I might be able to convince you to actually get a new psychiatrist?" Barbara asked with more than a hint of amusement.
"You're smoking mad crack," Helena snorted. She was sitting up on the bed, swinging her taped legs beneath her. The motion was far from effortless or graceful but it was encouraging just the same.
"Am not," Barbara grinned. Her eyes flashed up to the clock on the wall. Reese had been gone for almost fifty minutes now. She wondered how he was doing.
And what he was doing.
Helena seemed to pick up on her worry.
"How exactly is he going to take out this Mindtrip loser?"
"I don't know," Barbara admitted. "Not sure I want to know."
"So you're not gonna trip about how heroes don't kill and all of that?" Helena queried with great curiosity.
"It's not the same thing," Barbara said. "Technically and medically, Jared Kelly is already dead. The part of his brain that accesses the psychic wavelength is hyperactive but the rest of his brain...well he's brain-dead."
"Sounds like justification to me," Helena noted. "I mean not that I'm objecting and all but...are you really going to be okay with this?"
"He's already dead," Barbara said simply. Then she turned to look hard at Helena. "I'm not losing you."
"Aww," Helena started. "I'm...."
The phone against the wall jingled hard, instantly setting Barbara's nerves on fire. She cursed underneath her breath and then wheeled over to the ringing device. "Reese?"
"Yep," he said, his voice sounding dull and tired. "It's done."
He hung up the phone as soon as the words were out of his mouth. There was a click and then a dial tone sounded on the line.
He was obviously very upset.
She didn't blame him.
She didn't fault him either.
She wheeled back over to a computer and began to type commands into it. The display flashed a few times and then showed a screen that indicated it was the entry database for Arkham.
"Barbara?" Helena asked. "What's going on?"
"He's dead," Barbara replied quietly. She spun the screen to show it to Helena. "Jared Kelly was pronounced dead a few minutes ago. No cause of death yet. It's all pending an autopsy but considering his recent state, one is unlikely."
"Reese killed him?" she asked her mentor, her voice very low.
"No," Barbara said quickly. "I don't think so." She turned to look at Helena. "He was already dead. He had to be stopped."
"You don't have to explain that to me," Helena insisted. "I'm okay with it." She paused. "I just want...I need the two of you to be okay with it as well."
"We will be," Barbara assured her. She leaned over to the table and picked up a syringe. "But now that we know the Joker is out of your mind, I'm putting you under..."
"I don't want to," Helena said, sliding a few inches away from Barbara. "I really don't want to."
Barbara placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you don't. I wouldn't." She paused for effect. "If I knew another way...I don't. This is all we have. You're killing yourself."
"I can control it..."
"No you can't," Barbara replied. "And frankly, that's what makes you who you are. I'd love it if one day you could learn to focus your anger but having it drives you...it's yours to have. You have a good reason for it now after all he has done to you. I just...we're not playing on an even board..."
Helena held out her arm to her mentor. "I don't like this," she said again. "I should be fighting."
"If this goes well Helena, there will be plenty of time for that later. You'll have plenty of bad guys to pummel, I promise."
Helena smiled. "Then do your worst."
Barbara took a deep breath and then plunged the syringe into her protégé's arm. The girl gasped initially at the pain but then settled back against the bed with her head against the pillow.
She was out seconds later.
Barbara stared down at her for several minutes before she finally wheeled towards the trash. She dropped the syringe into it and closed the lid.
Closing her eyes she whispered to herself, "God forgive us. We had no choice."
Warden George Haven was called down to the containment cell at just after nine that evening. Apparently their most infamous prisoner was putting on quite a scene, as he demanded to see his psychiatrist. Unfortunately nobody could quite locate Dr. Quinzell.
"What's going on?" Haven snapped as he entered the clear glass cell. His eyes immediately drifted over to the madman who was pacing about anxiously, his ruby red lips drawn together in a horrific sneer.
"He's been like this for hours," the guard said, making a twirling motion with his right hand. "Been bitching about needing to see his doc. Says she'll make it all better. I think he's snapped."
Haven snorted loudly. "He did that a long time ago." He frowned as he glanced into the cell. Many years ago he had been a police officer for the Gotham PD on one very cold and rainy evening. That had been the night when Jim Gordon's little girl had been crippled.
That had been the night when the Joker and his minions had killed a lot of good men and woman all in some desperate attempt to be the dominant crime syndicate in Gotham. Even above and beyond the infamous mob family known as the Table.
He had been one of the officers that had finally apprehended the Joker but by then it had been far too late. The damage had been done. To both Jim and Barbara Gordon and to the entire department.
"Sir?" the guard asked, keeping a respectable distance between he and his superior. "Should we call in the quacks from upstairs to straightjacket him?"
Haven pursed his lips, his mind whirling. He wondered sometimes why someone didn't just mine the entire Asylum with explosives and blow it and all of it's psychotic and deranged loons straight to hell. "No," he said softly. "Let him rant. He's not harming anyone. Put plugs in if he's bothering you but just keep an eye on him. If he starts getting physically violent, call Dr. Lowder but other than that, leave him be."
"Yes sir," the guard said, nodding quickly. He moved away from the Warden, crossing over to a card table against the wall. A hand of solitaire was already laid out and waiting.
Haven glanced at his officer and then back at the Joker. The madman walking in angry circles, his hands pulling at his green hair. He kept muttering about some cat that had gotten away. Something about how the cat could never get away.
"Fucking loon," Haven whispered to himself. He shook his head, nodded at his officer and then walked back towards the stairs that he had come from.
Back towards his officer.
Behind him in the cell the Joker spun, his eyes glowing with pure maniacal evil. "Fine then," he said, a chuckle interrupting his words. "Then I guess you'll just die now."
"Where is she?" Reese asked briskly as he entered the Clocktower. The digital clock on the wall said that it was about seven in the morning. That meant that the handsome young cop had been AWOL for over twelve hours. Normally his absence during their time of stress would have irked her but she could tell that he hadn't been sleeping; he looked exhausted and there were marks under his eyes. Under his right arm he was carrying a rather thick folder.
Barbara turned to regard him, offering him a small smile. "I put her under hours ago. I mean I induced a comatose state."
He nodded. "How she's doing?"
"She seems to be fine now. All of her brain functions appear normal and her REM appears to be undisturbed." She chuckled light. "I think she's actually finally resting."
"Good," he said. "Because we have a problem."
She lifted an eyebrow, more in annoyance than shock. "Oh?"
He held up the file he was carrying. "I did some research on our lovely Dr. Quinzell last night. She's been up to some interesting things."
"Namely?" Barbara asked, not terribly in the mood for guessing games.
"Buying strange little explosives for one," Reese replied. He moved to stand next to Barbara and opened the folder. The first paper on the top was a replica of an invoice. The two sheets below the payment record were google.com searches on the product in question. "Now what in Gods' name would someone need an explosive like that for?"
Barbara blinked.
Once. Twice. A third time.
She bent down to examine one of the pictures in the descriptive article and then hissed in frustration. The color photograph was of a small device no larger than a shirt button and just as flat. She could see from the picture that it was actually a computer chip with several circuits running across its small diameter.
The description on it said that it would explode with a vibration. Not a blast but rather a wave of force outwards that would shatter the resistant walls around it. A pulse canon of sorts.
"Fuck," she growled. She slammed her fist into the desk in front of her, the cup of coffee just inches from her hand jumping and then spilling several drops onto the desk. She spun hard in the chair. "Alfred!"
The butler appeared by the door, looking just as weary but still aware. "Shall I get Dr. Quinzell?" It was uncanny how he seemed to know exactly what she needed but in this case it was probably just eavesdropping.
"Oh yes," Barbara bit off. "Bring her please." Alfred nodded and stepped out of the room, heading back into the Clocktower towards the small containment cell down near the base of the massive building.
"So you're thinking the same thing I am then?" Reese asked, eyes on the redhead.
"Depends," she murmured, glancing back down at the papers. She shook her head. "She charged this to her credit card?"
He snorted. "American Express. Villains everywhere know not to leave hell without it."
She chuckled dryly. "That was bad Detective."
"Sorry."
"I'm just shocked she did that but I guess she really didn't think she could be caught. This company she bought the chip from, what do they say it can be used for? I mean, what's their announced intent?"
"Isn't that your domain?" Reese quipped. She tossed him a dirty look so he held up his hands in self-defense. "They say it's a testing tool. To duplicate small earthquakes off certain something or other."
"You mean like putting the explosive between two plates, calling the plates..."
He cut her off quickly, "Yeah that. Exactly where you're going. That."
"Sounds like bullshit," she groaned. "Oh man and just when I thought we were actually looking at a little light in this whole thing."
"You and me," Reese said quietly. He dropped back and sat down in the leather recliner that Helena had been using for the last several weeks. He glanced down at his hands, studying the lines on his palms. He rubbed at a tiny scar just under the thumb on his left hand. Nervous habit and all of that.
"Reese," Barbara started, caution in her tone. "Are you okay with what happened to Mindtrip?"
The young man looked up at her with wide dark eyes and she could clearly see that he was not. She could also tell that he had resolved to deal with it. However that need be. "I'll...I'll be fine," Reese started. "He was already dead."
Barbara recognized her own logic and decided not to push the subject; it was something that they would both have to deal with in their own time and in their own way.
"Dr. Quinzell," Alfred announced stiffly from the doorway.
Barbara glanced up, relieved to be brought away from her thoughts about Jared Kelly. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the older blonde woman. The psychiatrist was trying to smile at her but one of the cuts around her lips turned it into an ugly grimace. Her face was covered in nasty bruises and ugly welts. All from Helena's beating the night before.
"Barbara Gordon," Harley cooed. "Good morning. And what is today to be?"
"Today is to be the day you make a choice," Barbara replied sharply, wheeling over to be in front of the psychotic woman.
"Oh? Choice? And what choice would that be? Strawberry jam or grape? Stab or shoot?"
"Arkham or me," Barbara corrected, green eyes suddenly very cold. "When this is all over, I can turn you over to Arkham and you and the Joker can do whatever the hell you want for the rest of eternity or I can keep you down in that cell in the basement rotting away. It's really your choice."
"I'm not scared of you," Harley laughed. "And you wouldn't do that anyways."
"Oh?"
"You're too boring. I mean with the being perfect and all." She yawned. "I kept hoping you'd at least slap Helena once in awhile. That at least would have been interesting but no. No, it was always, poor little Helena Kyle is always letting down the great Barbara Gordon."
Barbara reached out and decked her; her closed fist sharply colliding with the blonde's already bruised jaw. The woman hissed in pain, her eyes widening. "Believe me now?" Barbara growled.
"Not quite," Harley said. "But you've got my attention. What is it that you want?"
Reese stepped behind Barbara and handed her the folder. She spun it around and showed the invoice to Harley. "What is this for?"
Harley smiled. Her hands were still bound sharply behind her back but her body was still exhibiting a large amount of language. She still appeared very capable of communicating with her movements. "Oh that," she drawled. "That's for Helena."
Barbara snapped.
She reached forward and grabbed Harley by the collar, jerking the woman towards her. "You stupid bitch I am done with your games. I want the truth and I want it now or some help me God, I will make sure that you breathe, eat and piss from a tube for the rest of your cursed and unnatural life."
Harley's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open and she gaped like a cut fish. Once Barbara tossed her to the ground, she stared up at the redhead. "Now I'm impressed," she said. "Fine then, for what it's worth I'll tell you."
"Harley," Barbara hissed, eyes hard.
"There is an explosive device located in Helena's head. Behind her left ear I believe. I put it there during our last therapy session."
"What will it do to her?" Reese asked, stepping into Harley's field of vision. She looked for a moment like she was going to try to play with him but the creaking of Barbara's wheels made her decided otherwise.
"It'll blow her head up," Harley said with more glee than was necessary. Even for her.
"How?" Barbara growled, her patience thinning to an almost unbearable amount. Her fingers dug into the padding of her chair and she felt her back muscles spasm with the intensity of it all.
Harley shrugged. "I'm not sure on the specifics of it all but I was told that first she'd have horrible mind-blowing headaches, then she'd start to bleed out and then she'd suffer a complete aneurism and die. Or something vaguely like that." She yawned. "I didn't pay much attention past the phrase unbearable agony."
"How do we get the chip out?" Reese queried, eyes on Barbara. He couldn't quite believe that he was having to watch her to make sure she didn't try to kill the shrink. Then again, a very large part of him wanted to do it himself.
"You don't," Harley chuckled.
"There's got to be a way," Barbara hissed.
Harley snorted and then sang out, "May-be. But I'm not telling."
Barbara stretched out her arms to grab at Harley but Reese stepped in her way. He captured one of her palms with her one. "Don't. Won't do any good. And right now we need these hands. We have to get that thing out of her before..."
His words were cut off by a horrific scream from the lab. He looked to Barbara who was wearing a look of sheer panic. He rather imagined that he had the same look on his own face. "Helena," she gasped.
Harley just laughed. "Looks like it's started. Goodbye Helena."
Reese turned back to face the shrink but was beat to the punch by Alfred reaching out and slamming the woman face first into the ground. She grunted and then fell still, dead out. He bent over her and began to tighten the binds, constricting her almost like one would a stuck pig.
"Miss Helena needs us," was all he said as he stared calmly back at the matching shocked expressions that Reese and Barbara were wearing. "She needs us now."
And he was right.
And Helena was still screaming.
END CHAPTER 7
"It's hard to explain Haystack," Reese said, gazing across at his old friend. A red light from a neon sign overhead flashed color onto the man's face. It was drizzling out but neither seemed to notice.
They were both too caught up in the past.
It'd been almost a year since he had spent anytime with the boy he had grown up with. They had both been the only sons of major crime lords. The only difference was, Hayden had gone into the family business.
He was a hitman for hire.
It'd been hard to maintain their friendship after that revelation had been made so they had both settled on just keeping their distance from each other. For two old friends who had shared just about everything together, it'd been pure hell.
"So try Jess," Hayden said, winding his fingers through his dark blonde hair. He was tall; maybe six foot four inches. His body was lean and cut though and he might have even been a beautiful man if not for the inch long cut underneath his jaw. Something about one of his hits going bad. Long story and all of that.
"Look, this Jared Kelly guy, I need to know how alive he is. That's why I called you on the way here. I figured you could find out easier than I could."
"Probably true," Hayden nodded. "And yeah, talked to a buddy of mine in the infirmary."
"And?"
"They say the guy is pretty much toast. He has brain activity but in all the wrong places. Don't have a fucking clue what that means," Hayden muttered. He pushed himself away from the hood of his car and crossed over to where Reese was leaning against an alley wall. "So what did you need then?"
Reese took a deep breath. He closed his eyes and exhaled. "Take care of him for me."
"Sure bro," Hayden said, eyes narrowed. "I don't get it though. What's going on with you? What'd this Kelly dude do to you?"
"Not to me exactly..."
"A girl? He fuck a girl of yours?"
"Not exactly..."
"Jesse, you gotta talk to me," Hayden insisted, his tone almost a desperate plea. Reese could hear a Boston accent pushing it's way through; Hayden had spent altogether too much in Massachusetts handling his old man's affairs.
Reese shook his head. "Look, will you help me out or not?"
Hayden nodded. "You have to ask? Of course. Dead right?"
"Can you wake him up?"
"Still trying to be the Boy Scout," Hayden laughed. Then he shook his head. "Expected that of you so I checked. They say no. Fried bacon bro."
"Then yeah," Reese replied thickly. "I don't want to know how...just do it."
Hayden crossed over to Reese and put a hand on his old friends' shoulder. "One of these days, Jess..."
Reese smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "Yeah, one of these days Haystack."
"We'll sit down and knock some beers and broads huh?"
"Yeah," Reese replied, knowing full well that that day would never come. He rather suspected that he wouldn't want to see Hayden again after all of this was over; wouldn't want to be reminded of what he was capable of. "Hey, do me a favor huh?"
"After all you've done to keep me from being pushed behind bars? Name it."
"Don't let my dad find out. I mean, that I was part...that I..."
"He won't hear it from me," Hayden promised.
"Thanks," Reese said. He put out his hand towards Hayden. Castle looked at it for a long moment and then reached across and embraced Jesse hard.
"Not a fool enough to know that it'll ever be good between us again Jess but I still love you like my brother. Always will."
"Me too Hayden," Reese assured him. "Me too."
"I don't like this," Helena muttered. "I don't want to be put in a coma. I want to fight him. I should have that right."
"I don't disagree," Barbara insisted. "But you are killing yourself. We can't...I won't take that risk."
Helena dropped her head and stared down at the ground. "Figures my attitude would eventually kill me."
"So have you changed your mind about therapy? Are you saying when this is all done I might be able to convince you to actually get a new psychiatrist?" Barbara asked with more than a hint of amusement.
"You're smoking mad crack," Helena snorted. She was sitting up on the bed, swinging her taped legs beneath her. The motion was far from effortless or graceful but it was encouraging just the same.
"Am not," Barbara grinned. Her eyes flashed up to the clock on the wall. Reese had been gone for almost fifty minutes now. She wondered how he was doing.
And what he was doing.
Helena seemed to pick up on her worry.
"How exactly is he going to take out this Mindtrip loser?"
"I don't know," Barbara admitted. "Not sure I want to know."
"So you're not gonna trip about how heroes don't kill and all of that?" Helena queried with great curiosity.
"It's not the same thing," Barbara said. "Technically and medically, Jared Kelly is already dead. The part of his brain that accesses the psychic wavelength is hyperactive but the rest of his brain...well he's brain-dead."
"Sounds like justification to me," Helena noted. "I mean not that I'm objecting and all but...are you really going to be okay with this?"
"He's already dead," Barbara said simply. Then she turned to look hard at Helena. "I'm not losing you."
"Aww," Helena started. "I'm...."
The phone against the wall jingled hard, instantly setting Barbara's nerves on fire. She cursed underneath her breath and then wheeled over to the ringing device. "Reese?"
"Yep," he said, his voice sounding dull and tired. "It's done."
He hung up the phone as soon as the words were out of his mouth. There was a click and then a dial tone sounded on the line.
He was obviously very upset.
She didn't blame him.
She didn't fault him either.
She wheeled back over to a computer and began to type commands into it. The display flashed a few times and then showed a screen that indicated it was the entry database for Arkham.
"Barbara?" Helena asked. "What's going on?"
"He's dead," Barbara replied quietly. She spun the screen to show it to Helena. "Jared Kelly was pronounced dead a few minutes ago. No cause of death yet. It's all pending an autopsy but considering his recent state, one is unlikely."
"Reese killed him?" she asked her mentor, her voice very low.
"No," Barbara said quickly. "I don't think so." She turned to look at Helena. "He was already dead. He had to be stopped."
"You don't have to explain that to me," Helena insisted. "I'm okay with it." She paused. "I just want...I need the two of you to be okay with it as well."
"We will be," Barbara assured her. She leaned over to the table and picked up a syringe. "But now that we know the Joker is out of your mind, I'm putting you under..."
"I don't want to," Helena said, sliding a few inches away from Barbara. "I really don't want to."
Barbara placed a hand on her shoulder. "I know you don't. I wouldn't." She paused for effect. "If I knew another way...I don't. This is all we have. You're killing yourself."
"I can control it..."
"No you can't," Barbara replied. "And frankly, that's what makes you who you are. I'd love it if one day you could learn to focus your anger but having it drives you...it's yours to have. You have a good reason for it now after all he has done to you. I just...we're not playing on an even board..."
Helena held out her arm to her mentor. "I don't like this," she said again. "I should be fighting."
"If this goes well Helena, there will be plenty of time for that later. You'll have plenty of bad guys to pummel, I promise."
Helena smiled. "Then do your worst."
Barbara took a deep breath and then plunged the syringe into her protégé's arm. The girl gasped initially at the pain but then settled back against the bed with her head against the pillow.
She was out seconds later.
Barbara stared down at her for several minutes before she finally wheeled towards the trash. She dropped the syringe into it and closed the lid.
Closing her eyes she whispered to herself, "God forgive us. We had no choice."
Warden George Haven was called down to the containment cell at just after nine that evening. Apparently their most infamous prisoner was putting on quite a scene, as he demanded to see his psychiatrist. Unfortunately nobody could quite locate Dr. Quinzell.
"What's going on?" Haven snapped as he entered the clear glass cell. His eyes immediately drifted over to the madman who was pacing about anxiously, his ruby red lips drawn together in a horrific sneer.
"He's been like this for hours," the guard said, making a twirling motion with his right hand. "Been bitching about needing to see his doc. Says she'll make it all better. I think he's snapped."
Haven snorted loudly. "He did that a long time ago." He frowned as he glanced into the cell. Many years ago he had been a police officer for the Gotham PD on one very cold and rainy evening. That had been the night when Jim Gordon's little girl had been crippled.
That had been the night when the Joker and his minions had killed a lot of good men and woman all in some desperate attempt to be the dominant crime syndicate in Gotham. Even above and beyond the infamous mob family known as the Table.
He had been one of the officers that had finally apprehended the Joker but by then it had been far too late. The damage had been done. To both Jim and Barbara Gordon and to the entire department.
"Sir?" the guard asked, keeping a respectable distance between he and his superior. "Should we call in the quacks from upstairs to straightjacket him?"
Haven pursed his lips, his mind whirling. He wondered sometimes why someone didn't just mine the entire Asylum with explosives and blow it and all of it's psychotic and deranged loons straight to hell. "No," he said softly. "Let him rant. He's not harming anyone. Put plugs in if he's bothering you but just keep an eye on him. If he starts getting physically violent, call Dr. Lowder but other than that, leave him be."
"Yes sir," the guard said, nodding quickly. He moved away from the Warden, crossing over to a card table against the wall. A hand of solitaire was already laid out and waiting.
Haven glanced at his officer and then back at the Joker. The madman walking in angry circles, his hands pulling at his green hair. He kept muttering about some cat that had gotten away. Something about how the cat could never get away.
"Fucking loon," Haven whispered to himself. He shook his head, nodded at his officer and then walked back towards the stairs that he had come from.
Back towards his officer.
Behind him in the cell the Joker spun, his eyes glowing with pure maniacal evil. "Fine then," he said, a chuckle interrupting his words. "Then I guess you'll just die now."
"Where is she?" Reese asked briskly as he entered the Clocktower. The digital clock on the wall said that it was about seven in the morning. That meant that the handsome young cop had been AWOL for over twelve hours. Normally his absence during their time of stress would have irked her but she could tell that he hadn't been sleeping; he looked exhausted and there were marks under his eyes. Under his right arm he was carrying a rather thick folder.
Barbara turned to regard him, offering him a small smile. "I put her under hours ago. I mean I induced a comatose state."
He nodded. "How she's doing?"
"She seems to be fine now. All of her brain functions appear normal and her REM appears to be undisturbed." She chuckled light. "I think she's actually finally resting."
"Good," he said. "Because we have a problem."
She lifted an eyebrow, more in annoyance than shock. "Oh?"
He held up the file he was carrying. "I did some research on our lovely Dr. Quinzell last night. She's been up to some interesting things."
"Namely?" Barbara asked, not terribly in the mood for guessing games.
"Buying strange little explosives for one," Reese replied. He moved to stand next to Barbara and opened the folder. The first paper on the top was a replica of an invoice. The two sheets below the payment record were google.com searches on the product in question. "Now what in Gods' name would someone need an explosive like that for?"
Barbara blinked.
Once. Twice. A third time.
She bent down to examine one of the pictures in the descriptive article and then hissed in frustration. The color photograph was of a small device no larger than a shirt button and just as flat. She could see from the picture that it was actually a computer chip with several circuits running across its small diameter.
The description on it said that it would explode with a vibration. Not a blast but rather a wave of force outwards that would shatter the resistant walls around it. A pulse canon of sorts.
"Fuck," she growled. She slammed her fist into the desk in front of her, the cup of coffee just inches from her hand jumping and then spilling several drops onto the desk. She spun hard in the chair. "Alfred!"
The butler appeared by the door, looking just as weary but still aware. "Shall I get Dr. Quinzell?" It was uncanny how he seemed to know exactly what she needed but in this case it was probably just eavesdropping.
"Oh yes," Barbara bit off. "Bring her please." Alfred nodded and stepped out of the room, heading back into the Clocktower towards the small containment cell down near the base of the massive building.
"So you're thinking the same thing I am then?" Reese asked, eyes on the redhead.
"Depends," she murmured, glancing back down at the papers. She shook her head. "She charged this to her credit card?"
He snorted. "American Express. Villains everywhere know not to leave hell without it."
She chuckled dryly. "That was bad Detective."
"Sorry."
"I'm just shocked she did that but I guess she really didn't think she could be caught. This company she bought the chip from, what do they say it can be used for? I mean, what's their announced intent?"
"Isn't that your domain?" Reese quipped. She tossed him a dirty look so he held up his hands in self-defense. "They say it's a testing tool. To duplicate small earthquakes off certain something or other."
"You mean like putting the explosive between two plates, calling the plates..."
He cut her off quickly, "Yeah that. Exactly where you're going. That."
"Sounds like bullshit," she groaned. "Oh man and just when I thought we were actually looking at a little light in this whole thing."
"You and me," Reese said quietly. He dropped back and sat down in the leather recliner that Helena had been using for the last several weeks. He glanced down at his hands, studying the lines on his palms. He rubbed at a tiny scar just under the thumb on his left hand. Nervous habit and all of that.
"Reese," Barbara started, caution in her tone. "Are you okay with what happened to Mindtrip?"
The young man looked up at her with wide dark eyes and she could clearly see that he was not. She could also tell that he had resolved to deal with it. However that need be. "I'll...I'll be fine," Reese started. "He was already dead."
Barbara recognized her own logic and decided not to push the subject; it was something that they would both have to deal with in their own time and in their own way.
"Dr. Quinzell," Alfred announced stiffly from the doorway.
Barbara glanced up, relieved to be brought away from her thoughts about Jared Kelly. She narrowed her eyes when she saw the older blonde woman. The psychiatrist was trying to smile at her but one of the cuts around her lips turned it into an ugly grimace. Her face was covered in nasty bruises and ugly welts. All from Helena's beating the night before.
"Barbara Gordon," Harley cooed. "Good morning. And what is today to be?"
"Today is to be the day you make a choice," Barbara replied sharply, wheeling over to be in front of the psychotic woman.
"Oh? Choice? And what choice would that be? Strawberry jam or grape? Stab or shoot?"
"Arkham or me," Barbara corrected, green eyes suddenly very cold. "When this is all over, I can turn you over to Arkham and you and the Joker can do whatever the hell you want for the rest of eternity or I can keep you down in that cell in the basement rotting away. It's really your choice."
"I'm not scared of you," Harley laughed. "And you wouldn't do that anyways."
"Oh?"
"You're too boring. I mean with the being perfect and all." She yawned. "I kept hoping you'd at least slap Helena once in awhile. That at least would have been interesting but no. No, it was always, poor little Helena Kyle is always letting down the great Barbara Gordon."
Barbara reached out and decked her; her closed fist sharply colliding with the blonde's already bruised jaw. The woman hissed in pain, her eyes widening. "Believe me now?" Barbara growled.
"Not quite," Harley said. "But you've got my attention. What is it that you want?"
Reese stepped behind Barbara and handed her the folder. She spun it around and showed the invoice to Harley. "What is this for?"
Harley smiled. Her hands were still bound sharply behind her back but her body was still exhibiting a large amount of language. She still appeared very capable of communicating with her movements. "Oh that," she drawled. "That's for Helena."
Barbara snapped.
She reached forward and grabbed Harley by the collar, jerking the woman towards her. "You stupid bitch I am done with your games. I want the truth and I want it now or some help me God, I will make sure that you breathe, eat and piss from a tube for the rest of your cursed and unnatural life."
Harley's eyes widened. Her mouth fell open and she gaped like a cut fish. Once Barbara tossed her to the ground, she stared up at the redhead. "Now I'm impressed," she said. "Fine then, for what it's worth I'll tell you."
"Harley," Barbara hissed, eyes hard.
"There is an explosive device located in Helena's head. Behind her left ear I believe. I put it there during our last therapy session."
"What will it do to her?" Reese asked, stepping into Harley's field of vision. She looked for a moment like she was going to try to play with him but the creaking of Barbara's wheels made her decided otherwise.
"It'll blow her head up," Harley said with more glee than was necessary. Even for her.
"How?" Barbara growled, her patience thinning to an almost unbearable amount. Her fingers dug into the padding of her chair and she felt her back muscles spasm with the intensity of it all.
Harley shrugged. "I'm not sure on the specifics of it all but I was told that first she'd have horrible mind-blowing headaches, then she'd start to bleed out and then she'd suffer a complete aneurism and die. Or something vaguely like that." She yawned. "I didn't pay much attention past the phrase unbearable agony."
"How do we get the chip out?" Reese queried, eyes on Barbara. He couldn't quite believe that he was having to watch her to make sure she didn't try to kill the shrink. Then again, a very large part of him wanted to do it himself.
"You don't," Harley chuckled.
"There's got to be a way," Barbara hissed.
Harley snorted and then sang out, "May-be. But I'm not telling."
Barbara stretched out her arms to grab at Harley but Reese stepped in her way. He captured one of her palms with her one. "Don't. Won't do any good. And right now we need these hands. We have to get that thing out of her before..."
His words were cut off by a horrific scream from the lab. He looked to Barbara who was wearing a look of sheer panic. He rather imagined that he had the same look on his own face. "Helena," she gasped.
Harley just laughed. "Looks like it's started. Goodbye Helena."
Reese turned back to face the shrink but was beat to the punch by Alfred reaching out and slamming the woman face first into the ground. She grunted and then fell still, dead out. He bent over her and began to tighten the binds, constricting her almost like one would a stuck pig.
"Miss Helena needs us," was all he said as he stared calmly back at the matching shocked expressions that Reese and Barbara were wearing. "She needs us now."
And he was right.
And Helena was still screaming.
END CHAPTER 7