They didn't have far to go to find their next obstacle.
The Riddler and Scarecrow were having their own showdown right in the middle of the Monarch's lobby. There was considerably less physical violence since both men were not as vicious as Killer Croc and the Man-Bat. Perhaps that was why there was minimal damage throughout the room if one ignored the present rot and disrepair.
Also, the two men seemed more interested in who held the Riddler's question mark cane.
Scarecrow was trying to yank the cane out of the green-dressed man's hands, who was trying to keep said cane in his own hands. It was awkward and rather pitiful to watch their struggle.
Suddenly, Scarecrow let go of the cane with one hand and drew it back, holding up fingers that had a needle extending from each one. He then thrust the hand right at Riddler, trying to inject his infamous fear toxin into him.
Nygma saw this coming, his eyes widening comically beneath his purple domino mask. Instinctively he yanked his cane up, and thanks to his two hands outnumbering Crane's one, he was successful. The cane's shaft bumped into the thrusting hand and knocked it just off course, the needles passing right over the Riddler's shoulder.
That's when the Riddler spun around so that his back was to Scarecrow's chest. Because the latter refused to let go of the cane, his arm was lying on top of the Riddler's shoulder, stretching out further than he should have allowed. Nygma then leaned forward, pulling his cane down, which leveraged Scarecrow off of the floor. He ended up flipping over his foe, landing hard on his back on the floor.
"I just feel bad for these two," Bluebird muttered. "They're trying, but they just don't really know how to fight." She sighed. "And I was held hostage by one of these pricks—ugh."
By then, Scarecrow had flopped over onto his stomach and was scrambling to get on his feet. Riddler held his cane up above his head, hands grasping it towards its top. It was clear he wanted to use the butt end of the cane to beat the disgraced university professor. However, when he did so, Scarecrow had gotten onto his hands and knees and awkwardly scrambled backwards, leaving the cane's end to smack the floor.
This put Crane into a crouched stance, one he could spring from and tackle Nygma should he wish. However, he froze when he noticed the group of vigilantes watching them. "Not you!" he cried out.
Riddler was raising his cane up, but hesitated when he heard Crane's cry. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the group as well and groaned. "I distinctly remember not inviting any of you to this party," he whined.
Batman strode forward. While he expected some sort of trap being present in the room, considering that Nygma and Crane were wrestling with each other without a care indicated there were either none present, or they were nowhere near where the traps were. Another was that they just didn't care, though that didn't fit the Riddler's perchance for them. He would be trying his best to drive his foe into one if that were the case.
Riddler spun around to face the Dark Knight to aim his cane at him. The sudden movement had caused the vigilante to pull out a bat-shaped shuriken and casually send it flying through the air. The projectile struck the Riddler's hand, knocking the cane out of his grasp as he yelped and sent it tumbling through the air.
"I don't have time for your games," he growled lowly at the two men. "Surrender yourselves now, or prepare to eat floor."
"I think not." Scarecrow had reached behind his back only to pull out a small, leather pouch. That prompted the vigilante to stop. There was no telling what was in the pouch, but chances were it was some concoction of fear toxin. "Come no closer, or all of you will be out of your minds with fear."
"I would do as the man says," Riddler agreed. "You may not have any fears, but can you say the same for your new sidekicks?"
Great, he had inadvertently given the two inmates a common enemy. However, he wasn't out of options. These were cerebral men, ones that were used to being the smartest one in the room. Some manipulation should—
A hand clasped his shoulder. Looking to it, he found Bluebird standing there, Batgirl and Spoiler not too far away. "We've got this," she told him. "You go on ahead."
"Yes, allow some prepubescent girls to challenge men of genius," the Riddler taunted.
Bluebird scowled, but didn't direct her ire to the question mark man. "I've got a score to settle with that asshole. I'll make it quick, but not entirely painless."
Batman had an inkling as to what she intended to do. That just left Batgirl and Spoiler to Crane. If there was anyone he could trust to put him down, it was Batgirl. Spoiler could be a reservist, best used to lend support. While it wasn't his first choice, he did need to get to Hugo Strange and the Joker, and both men were most likely together up ahead.
The way forward was barred, but this was a theater, one that had balconies.
Glancing away to survey the room, he saw the entrance to the stairs that led to the balconies. It was boarded up, the wood looking old and rotten. Someone like Crane wouldn't have been able to go through, but he was stronger than him. With the burlap-wearing man's threat still hanging in the air, he took a deliberate step back.
Scarecrow immediately realized something was up. "What are you up to?" he demanded.
Well, there wasn't much choice in being subtle. Darting to his left, Batman raced for the boarded-up entrance, using his arms to protect his face as he rammed into them. Just as he expected, he burst through the wooden boards, immediately turning to his right and leaping up the stairs.
How did one separate two monster men from clobbering each other? There were a couple of options here. One, Black Canary's Canary Cry would do the trick, if not incapacitate each monster. That seemed the best choice.
There was the more subtle smoke pellet that would alarm both Killer Croc and Man-Bat, forcing them to instinctively separate.
There was also Manhunter's Power Staff, though its destruction was perhaps a tad too powerful even if it too could knock out one of the fighting creatures with one shot.
As the Birds of Prey swooped in, Huntress eyed both Black Canary and Manhunter to see what they were going to do. The former wasn't taking a deep breath, so she wasn't even thinking of using her special power; the latter had both hands on her grapple, so she was unable to have her staff out at the ready.
It looked as if the smoke pellet was the winning option.
With one hand stuffed into a pouch on her belt, Huntress had the pellet out and with a flick of her wrist sent it flying at the wrestling monsters. She wasn't sure where it hit, but the smoke cloud that suddenly erupted around them indicated it was right on target. As the Birds landed on the ground, they could hear the startled cries of the Man-Bat and the choked coughing from Croc.
Suddenly, Man-Bat exploded out of the cloud, rushing upward into the air. Its powerful wings flapped over and over as it rose, then it went into a glide, circling around the plaza. "I've got Man-Bat," Canary called out.
"I'll help," Huntress added.
The blonde vigilante quickly shook her head. "No, I'll be ending this fast. The sooner we put these monsters down, the sooner we end this war of theirs. I'll blow out its eardrums if I have to."
Which meant Canary had been saving her Canary Cry for Man-Bat specifically, the reason she didn't lead with it when they landed. While it made sense for the blonde woman to take on the monster with the sensitive hearing, she missed a chance to stun it, or even put it down fast. Huntress wasn't sure what the limits were with that attack, but she and Canary were going to have a long talk about it very soon.
That's when Killer Croc came stumbling out of the dissipating smoke cloud. He had one hand covering his face, his other waving back and forth as he tried to clear his sight. Katana immediately had her sword out, positioning herself between the reptile man and her comrades. "This one is mine," she said assertively.
"I don't suppose you want backup either," Manhunter snarked. Katana just gave a quick shake of her head, the only response she was willing to give. "Figured. I guess that just leaves the mastermind hiding in the wings."
"Batman did say to bring him down hard and fast," Huntress reminded her.
Manhunter snorted. "Let's go do as he says then and take that guy down. What's the over/under? Five seconds?"
"I'll take the under," the purple-clad woman claimed with a smirk.
"Sure, take the sucker bet."
Canary watched as the Man-Bat circled the air. Normally, it would be swooping in to attack and it didn't usually have a preference for who, or what that was. However, Batman had thought this Man-Bat was being mind-controlled, so that meant it had some sort of intelligence behind it.
There were pros and cons to both. She was going to see just how good, or bad mind-controlling a Man-Bat was.
First though, she needed to get its attention. Pulling out a throwing star, she then sent it flying up towards the flying creature. While she had hoped to tear a hole in its leathery wings, the Man-Bat caught sight of the star and reacted accordingly, turning to one side until its wings were perpendicular with the ground. The throwing star flew by harmlessly.
However, Canary knew she had its attention as it let out a shriek and began descending towards her. Standing her ground, she held her fists at her sides, sucking in her breath. She wanted to make this quick.
Then she unleashed her Canary Cry. The loud shriek caused the windows in surrounding buildings to instantly crack. She saw the snarl on the Man-Bat's face immediately twist into agony as it jerked to one side, passing right by the blonde vigilante. The wind of its passing pulled at the woman, who ended her attack as she turned to follow it. The Man-Bat crashed into the ground, bouncing and skidding across it until it came to a stop near a wall of one of the buildings.
As much as Canary wanted that to be the end, she knew it wouldn't be. It was too damn easy in a town where nothing came easy. Cautiously, she began to approach the monster, arms held up at the ready.
She was proven right when the Man-Bat shifted. Immediately, Canary began sucking in her breath. However, as predicted, the monster wasn't going to let her do as she wanted. When the Man-Bat had crashed, it had stopped next to a building with a few trash cans standing nearby. With one arm, it grabbed one of the trash cans with its elongated fingers and whipped it at her. Canary's eyes widened before she ducked down to avoid the flying garbage can.
In one smooth motion, it was on its feet, hands pressed down on the ground. With a growl, Man-Bat then launched itself forward, leading with its shoulder. Because of her duck, Canary was crouching down, which allowed her to spring to one side, diving out of the way of the charging bat monster.
Going into a roll, she ended back on her feet, twisting around to face her foe. However, the Man-Bat had come to an immediate stop the moment it had passed by her. It then swung out its wing, nailing her across the face, the blow sending her backwards through the air.
With a grimace, Black Canary ignored the stinging sensation on her face as she leaned backwards. Hands shooting above her head, her timing was perfect as her hands touched down on the ground, allowing her to go into a flip. She landed back on her feet, skidding across the ground until she stopped, her back lightly grazing the brick wall behind her.
She didn't hesitate. With a deep breath, Canary pursed her lips and unleashed her Canary Cry, sending a powerful, blunted one. The force of the Cry slammed into the Man-Bat, its turn to be sent hurling backwards through the air. It let out a surprised shriek before it began flapping its arms over and over, gaining control over itself before flying upwards into the air.
Damn, so much for a quick fight.
The large crocodile man stumbled, coughing over and over. He just couldn't seem to catch his breath thanks to the smoke bomb. It left him blind and oblivious to his surroundings.
Katana was still cautious. She had battled this Killer Croc with Batman himself and he had proven himself quite a match. His claws were razor sharp and his strength was inhuman. One wrong move and she was done.
But staying conservative was not an effective strategy for success either. If she struck true, she could end this fight in a single blow. In fact, she knew several, all of which involved her sword stabbing, or slicing into Killer Croc's vital areas. He would die, and while she was certain the world would not miss him, she had taken a vow to not kill with the Soultaker. She didn't like the idea of trapping a vicious man like this with her husband either.
So death by a thousand cuts was perhaps her only strategy—or rather defeat by a thousand cuts. That would result in a long, drawn out battle, not something she could afford at the moment, but she saw little choice.
Brushing aside her indecision, she charged forward. Killer Croc was still trying to catch his breath, so he never saw her approach. Angling towards her left, his right, Katana leapt into the air, spinning so that she could gather some additional momentum for her strike. She lashed out with her sword the moment her feet touched the ground, her blade biting into the reptile man's side.
Croc's reaction was instantaneous. With a wild scream, he suddenly whipped his closest arm at her, his hand looking very much like a set of talons. Katana immediately jerked her head backwards, causing her to lean as far back as her back would allow. Croc's claws rushed mere inches from her face, raking through some strands of her hair. Unable to keep her balance, she stumbled back a few steps to regain it, making sure her sword was up and ready to intercept whatever additional retaliation was coming her away.
Glancing to where she had struck Killer Croc, she grimaced at the shallow cut. The scales that made up his skin were still as tough as she remembered. The blood that leaked out was admittingly more than their encounter at Robinson Park, but it was not a life-threatening wound.
Irritated by the smoke, Croc's red eyes honed in on her. "The ninja bitch," he snarled at her. "You just missed your best shot at takin' me down. Now, I'm gonna rip your pretty throat out."
He then lunged at her, predictably swinging a clawed hand at her. Spinning to one side, Katana avoided the attack while putting her right next to his left side. Much like her first attack, she used her spinning to add more momentum and force to her next attack; this time using the hilt of her sword. She rammed the butt end into Croc's flank, right where his kidney would be. It looked high, but the left kidney sat higher than the right.
And though his skin was tough, Croc felt the kidney shot, his body flinching and spasming from the blow. Just like before, he wildly swung his closest arm at her, to which she nimbly avoided, moving behind her foe. Unable to help herself, Katana raised her sword up before slicing it diagonally down. This left a bright red cut across his back, from Croc's left shoulder to his right flank.
Croc flinched from the strike before he spun around. There was rage, madness in his eyes. Whatever fighting discipline he had was forgotten as he gave into baser instinct, leaping at her with both arms stretched out in front of him, his mouth gaping open to reveal his teeth.
In response, Katana fell backwards, landing on her back on the ground. At the same time, she swung both of her legs up, perfectly timing it as her feet slammed beneath Croc's jaw, forcing it to slam shut. Her foe's momentum carried him over her, the reptile man crashing to the ground soon after. Katana rolled feet over head until she was crouched on the ground, immediately shooting up to her full height as she spun around to keep Croc in front of her, her sword held defensively before her.
Croc laid on the ground for several moments before he began to push himself back up. One hand was covering her mouth. "You bitch!" he seethed. "I think you broke my tooth."
"Then protect yourself better," the Asian woman responded succinctly.
Croc was up on his feet, slowly turning to glare at her. There was some blood leaking out of his mouth, his hand catching the long, red drip. He was getting angrier. While that would make him less likely to hold back—not that he was to begin with—it made him quite predictable in his form of attack.
"I swear, when I get my hands on you, I'm gonna skin you alive and make you watch as I eat your liver," he threatened.
"You may try." Katana angled her sword up so that it was held vertically in front of her, the tip pointed towards her foe. "But you will fail."
Then with an enraged roar, Croc charged again.
The grapples were fired up towards the roof ledge. Once they took hold, Huntress and Manhunter were flying up through the air, overshooting the ledge as they shot high above it.
This gave them the perfect view of a startled Mad Hatter. He was a short man, his straw-like hair peeking out from beneath the large top hat he wore. The two women soared over his head, forcing him to turn around to watch as they landed on the roof. In midair, they too had spun around so that they could face him, giving him no chance to try and surprise them.
"You're a long way from Arkham, Hatter," Huntress spoke as she glared the man down, much like she imagined Batman would have done. The neuroscientist didn't flinch, but he did appear to be trembling. She'd take it.
"Dear me, you two gave me quite a startle," he told them, straightening his posture out before he bowed to them. "I welcome you to this latest rendition of the game."
"Consider this game over," Manhunter responded. "You've had enough fun out here with all the collateral damage you and your pals are responsible for. It's time for you to turn yourself in."
"I think not," the madman refused. "Alice has yet to arrive for the tea party."
"Alice sends her apologies cause she ain't coming," Huntress shot back. "Now either put your hands behind your head, or get ready for us to put them there forcibly."
"Oh, dear me, this simply won't do at all." The Mad Hatter looked saddened by this, but he wasn't one to stay meek forever. "Unfortunately, the situation is a dire one. You see, the Queen is on her way and the wrong roses were planted."
Huntress and Manhunter shared a look. Apparently, the neuroscientist had fallen back into his obsession with Alice in Wonderland and he was referencing something out of it. This set them on edge. There was no telling what he would weaponize and sic on them.
"Though I lack the playing cards, I believe you two will suffice in helping me paint the roses red," he continued. Almost as if that had been a cue, the two vigilantes heard a shuffling behind them, which immediately caused them to spin around. Appearing seemingly out of nowhere were these blobs of vegetation. There was no telling what they were other than some had arms and legs, others claws and sharp teeth. But they reassembled no known animal. It was like some of them had been spliced together, or were given more, or less appendages than usual.
It wasn't a stretch to assume these were the work of Poison Ivy, wherever the hell she was in his mess. Huntress faintly wondered if these were some of her mistakes, ones she had made and cast off for not being perfect. That might very well be what they were considering they were gathering around the two women at the beck and call of the Mad Hatter.
Curiously, they did have white roses scattered randomly throughout their leafy bodies.
"As you can see, we lack the red paint required to turn those white roses red," the Mad Hatter continued. "So an appropriate substitute will be needed. That is where you come in."
Oh, don't you say it, Huntress groaned in her head.
"We shall use your blood to make these roses red." Aaaand he said it, damn that man. The blond man was growing excited at the thought. "Now if you would please, allow these poor creatures to open you up. We can't be stingy after all."
I goddamn knew it. Huntress pulled out her bo staff, the same with Manhunter. This wasn't the first time they had fought plant creatures before, though never ones as crudely made as these. The fight at Robinson had seen to that. However, there was no telling what these plant creatures were capable of since they didn't really resemble anything normal. They could maybe do everything the original animals could do, or they could none of them, or even just some of them. They'd be finding it out shortly, though.
"Now, my vegetative guards," the Mad Hatter said. "Off with their heads."
The curtains were rotting from where they hung at the ceiling. Rats had shredded their bottoms for their nests, leaving them ripped and tattered. There were gaping holes as well, the result of years of neglect.
Batman shoved his way through moth-eaten fabric, entering a balcony. Once lavish seats had seen the same fate as the curtains, their cushions full of holes and tears, pieces of ornate wood chipped off. He cared not for the fallen state of the Monarch Theater though.
The main scene was on the floor.
The Joker was restrained by Ivy's vines like he had been at Robinson Park; the same for Harley Quinn as well. The redhead was standing sultry by the fallen psychiatrist, watching bemused as Hugo Strange taunted the green-haired clown. There were tanks with a green liquid within them, no doubt the chemical Strange had stollen from Shreck Textiles. The projection screen was playing images of destructions, ones the Dark Knight recognized instantly. He couldn't help but clench his jaw in response.
"So, I ask you, how does a man like you meet his end?" Strange asked rhetorically. He began to circle around the Joker, not once looking at him, glancing to see how his words affected him. There was no need as very little could get under the madman's skin. He was very much like a river; cast a stone into it and the ripple would be consumed by the ever-flowing current.
"I think most would assume it would be fighting with Batman one last time," the shrink continued as he spoke, his hands behind his back. "Scoring a last victory as he fails to save you, or perhaps is responsible for your death. Or maybe it's something else, biting more than you can chew with the Justice League? A bigger threat? A man like you deserves to end his legend spectacularly, don't you? But what if an extraordinary man dies not through extraordinary means, but by a mundane one?"
The Dark Knight had crouched down, allowing the shadows of the balcony to hide him. He hadn't seen any plant life around once he had arrived, so there weren't any obvious signs that Ivy knew he was here. Everyone was focused on Strange and the man was eating it up.
"Imagine this, you consider me a nobody. Third rate. Not worthy enough to lick your shoes. But if I were to take—" at this, Strange came to a stop in front of the Joker, a hand slipping into his white coat and removing a handgun. The very sight of it caused the vigilante to narrow his eyes, a hand going to his belt to retrieve a shuriken. "A mundane weapon, such as this gun that I purchased from a gun shop just down the street this very morning. A simple shot to the head and it's over, quick, efficient. No violent explosions. No fight to the death. No extraordinary circumstances. No, something so mundane that a two-bit punk hiding in wait in an alley two blocks from here could do it."
Strange paused, letting the moment sink in even as the Joker surprisingly just stared back. It seemed odd that he wasn't joining the conversation with some remark, or jab. He was just letting the mad shrink monologue unimpeded.
Then the aging man pointed the gun right at the pale man's forehead.
"How is that for a joke?"
Batman was on the move in an instant. Even as he shot up to stand, planting a foot on the railing of the balcony, he sent the bat-shaped shuriken whirling through the air. He leapt off of the balcony, his cape billowing out behind him.
The whirling projectile struck true. Strange let out a cry as his gun was violently knocked out of his hand, the weapon bouncing across the ground. Moments later, Batman landed on the floor, cape falling over his body as he glared menacingly. Normally he would have charged at Strange, but the presence of Poison Ivy kept him from that. If he struck at the former psychiatrist, she would retaliate in turn, and he would be strung up just like the Joker and Harley Quinn.
"Bats! Finally!" the Joker crowed. "I was wondering when you were going to make your grand entrance and you didn't disappoint! At least I won't be billed for another hour!"
Strange was clutching at his hand, trying to soothe the pain he felt in it. Despite this, he chuckled. "As was I." He straightened out his posture and faced the Dark Knight. "All of the players are here."
Batman narrowed his eyes. He had been expected to intervene—damn it. Had that entire speech been a way to draw him out into the open?
No, it was part of it. Though it had the effect of drawing him out, it was one part of two. Strange had been psychoanalyzing the Joker, searching for whatever made the mad clown tick. Many psychologists had tried and failed over the years, but the Joker's silence as Strange made his attempt indicated he was onto something.
Strange had been playing the both of them and it had worked.
"Now, I trust you understand the situation," Strange said as he lowered his hands to his sides and then behind him. "As long as you stand where you are, Ms Ivy will not have to take steps to restrain you like our other guests."
"I could do it anyways, Lover," the redhead added sultrily.
Strange seemed amused by the remark. "I have no doubt you have been listening to our little session. It is what you have always done. Now though, I may add you into the festivities." He turned slightly so that he was able to look at the Joker and the Dark Knight at the same time.
"Tell me, Batman, why is it that you will not kill this man?" At this, he gestured to the green-haired clown. "He has resisted all forms of rehabilitation and has created a rather lengthy list of crimes and victims. He is, as one would say, irredeemable."
"What can I say, my friend Bats just has a thing for lost causes," the Joker responded. "Ain't that right, ol' buddy, 'ol pal?"
"What's your angle, Strange?" Batman retorted instead.
"Answering a question with another question—a primitive deflection," the fallen psychiatrist drolled. "And very predictable coming from you. Thanks to you, I have had quite some time to think about you—"
"Obsess," the Joker coughed.
"—and your various relations with the men and women you place into Arkham. Your refusal to take matters into your own hands and end the threat each and every one of them represents is something of note. Take our mutual friend here." At this, Strange gestured to the Joker. "As mentioned, he is beyond being rehabilitated. Why do you allow such a man to exist when it is plainly for all to see that taking his life would be for the betterment of society?"
"Yeah, Bats, why haven't you?" the Joker asked curiously, turning his head to gaze at him.
The vigilante didn't respond. He knew what was going on, what Strange was trying to do. He was trying to drive home a point that had been talked about since the Great Gotham Fire.
"I thought up many reasons as to why you would allow such an evil to continue. I followed what some of the talking heads in the media have thought up, their inane thoughts missing the larger point."
"And I suppose you figured out the real reason," Batman suggested.
A knowing smirk appeared on his face. "Naturally. I am not one of those self-aggrandizing peons. They grasp at threads that are inconsequential in the larger picture. I do not believe you to be an adrenaline junkie as some have put it. Nor is it the result of reluctance, or even passivity. No, it is much more simple than that.
"You, my dark, delusional foe, are dependent on the Joker."
