The Monster's Hatch

Arkham Asymlum, Gotham City

7:42 p.m November 21

Tonight was the night where everything was going to change in just one killing stroke. After this, Gotham will be reborn and nobody will stop it. This is for the best of the people, even if they didn't see it that way. They would label it genocide or mass murder and some would go on to deny and fight against it, but they would fail. Gotham needed a new kind of victory, one that satisfies punishment. No more corrupt murderers or rapists picking on the weak innocent souls. This would end it all surely; just one tyranny to end another.

Without the commisioner's consent, Damien had organized an offensive team of six SWAT policemen all of whom were armed with the most efficient weapons for urban combat. These six men had been handpicked based on both their talents on the force, as well as their allignment. Being extremely underpaid and uninspired by low morale, it didn't take much convincing to win their services. They, on top of four specially hired soldiers would pave the way to Damien's victory.

The men had rigged their entry wall with explosives as they hid under the bushes. He would give them the order when he was ready. As for the time being he felt the urge to perform one final visit to a patient he knew so little about.

Jack Napier had a guest. The asylum staff workers prepared Jack for his meeting by shifting him to a vacant room, cuffing his wrists and ankles onto a metal chair stapled on the ground. Damien entered with a walkie talkie in his hand. The asylum workers left them to their privacy.

"You," said Jack first. "I saw your face on the window two days ago."

They called him the Joker, but for some reason he wasn't smiling at the moment.

"You're memory is sharp Jack."

"Please," insisted the patient. "Call me Joker."

Damien snickered lightly. "Tell me what you know about this Batman...Jack."

The Joker made a snicker of his own, his being almost as loud as a laugh. "I don't think you know who I am."

"Oh I know enough. I know as much as I need to know. I also know..." Damien pulled open a .357 revolver from under his coat and aimed the tube's end at the Joker's face. "You do not want to end this way."

Now he understood why they called him the Joker. In lieu of raising an eyebrow in fear, he crackled a laugh loud and hardy.

"You think I'm afraid of dying?" guessed Joker. "Boy you are one really stupid man. Go ahead, do it. I'm a just a waiting." He closed his eyes and flashed a smirk across his face expecting the cold grip of death at any time soon as if it was just some kind of sick joke.

"I don't think you understand," clarified Damien. "Despite all your greatest acomplishments and works of art, all the sick demented things you've done you're telling me that this is how you want to die? Locked up like a useless prisioner, powerless? You could die now in some piece of shit asylum, and nothing will matter. The people on the outside will forget you, and even a demented fuck such as yourself understands that that is not the best of all ways to go."

Joker was impressed, but also tormented. What impressed him was that the man was right, and what tormented him was that he was right.

"Well I guess you're not so dumb after all. But what would my knight in shining armor say if he found you doing what you're about to do?"

Damien was glad he asked.

"Which is why I'm asking you for your cooperation. I'm not here to kill you, but I wouldn't mind doing it either. It all boils down to you my friend. What is your choice?"

This had to be some kind of sick prank. Nobody threatens Joker, NOBODY! This man obviously had a deathwish of his own. He would have dared the fiend to shoot, but his only fear was that he would. This man would have no qualms on lodging a bullet in his brain. The expression on his face two days ago accompanied with that right now was a clear indication. His only choice was to once more bow down to the high rulers so that his life would be spared.

Gotham City Police Department, Gotham City

8:12 p.m

Another long shift in the office of the police commisioner. Jim rubbed his face with his hands in order to relieve only a fraction of his ten hours worth of stress. He deserved a vacation, and he knew it. Barbara would hassle him for the special occasions that he was at the office instead of at home having dinner with his wife and baby child. Because of the baby, Mrs. Gordon spent most of her married life as a housewife. Living in a suburban neighborhood with only people who could be described as monotonous and unfriendly made such a life a rather lonely one. Sure the occasional neighbors liked to have an occasional chat now and then, maybe even a few hours of tea time, but they were all just strangers living next door. She had a close friend however once upon a time, her name was Gilda Dent. They weren't neighbors, they had only met one another through their husbands. Gilda Dent was a person very dear to Barbara, she wished only that her friend could have stayed a little while longer.

The phone on Gordon's office rang loud and clear across the room, rattling slightly the table it stood on.

"Gotham City Police Department Jim Gordon. How can I help you?"

"Jim," said the other line in a desperate tone. "My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I'm a doctor at Arkham Asylum."

"Lemme guess, another nut broke loose?" asked Gordon discontented. It wasn't something to have been said lightly, even Jim knew that. But concern had a way of diminishing after being holed up in an office working long shifts every week, especially without any alcohol or fresh coffe to ease the pain.

"Jim Gordon. I need your help. There is a man here, the man in the news. His name is Damien Crest. Please," the woman's voice pleaded. "Help us. He's here at the Asylum with a gun. I think he's going to kill us."

"What!" It was hard to believe not because it seemed outrageous for a man like Damien to contemplate such an act, but because the warning was so sudden. The claim had just come off the phone and there was no evidence to support any of it, only the governor's voice.

"Look. I know this sounds crazy to you. But please, help us."

Immediately, Jim Gordon dropped the phone and stormed out of his office. "Assault on Arkham guys. I want all tactical units and backup there ASAP! Pack some armor and heavy weapons!" He shouted to the crowd of policemen. The men in blue ran to their lockers and geared themselves up for yet another long Gotham night.

Without further due, Jim stepped up the flight of stairs and stopped at the rooftop. He lit the searchlight as fast as he could and made certain that it faced the sky. Batman would be needed once again.

Wayne Manor, Gotham City

9:23 p.m

The searchlight changed Bruce Wayne much like a full moon changed the wolfman. His personality, physical characteristics, everything known about the lovable Bruce Wayne was gone. The man who had a father and a mother, friends. In the night, the millionaire heir to Thomas Wayne became transformed into an entity entirely different from him. He became that tiny soul hidden deep inside under eyesight, waiting to be unleashed. A dark knight crusader fighting a holy war. By the time the sun dies, Bruce Wayne is gone, and Batman begins.

Gotham City Police Department, Gotham City

9:32 p.m

The roof was empty. Gordon, the only man authorized to turn on the searchlight, was nowhere to be found. There was a note however, taped on the side of the strobe. Batman picked it up and read the written text to himself.

"EMERGENCY! Crest attacking Arkham. Come now."

Arkham Asymlum, Gotham City

9:35 p.m

"The bat of nights," Joker hissed. "A pacifist as you might already know. He doesn't kill, only neutralizes which is good enough for him to win. He likes to sneak around. Keep in mind, the dark is his friend and your enemy."

"Do you know who he is?" asked Damien.

"Nobody does. That's the whole point of his costume."

"How can I get him?"

"Ah, ah, ah," Joker tsked, all the while shaking his head about. "He finds you if you piss him off. Again, the dark is his friend and your enemy."

The questionaire hadn't gone as Damien anticipated. Jack knew nothing important about the so called "Bat of nights," nothing that would help him in his inevitable fight. It was a complete waste of time, but on the uphand, he made a fool of the Gotham serial killer.

Damien tapped the walkie talkie in his hands for a few seconds, and without any hesitation, said, "Alright guys. Breach your way in."

He was about to leave the room, but turned around after recalling the Joker's prescense. He was still strapped in the chair and made no attempts to escape.

"You ever play russian roulette with a fully loaded gun?" asked Damien.

Joker raised his head up in bewilderment. "Why would I do that?"

It was a rethoric question. No answer could have changed what he was about to do. None of what he said could have stopped Damien from pointing the .357 held tight in his hand to the Joker's head. And not even Batman could have prevented the bullet in the chamber from tranquilizing the Joker once and for all.

Buckham was the first man in to lead the A Team offensive. There were a total of two teams in the ten man army divided into even fives. Team A planted a satchel charge from the back wall and stormed every cell block from there on out with the intent of clipping every "patient" that was present. The group consisted of Buckham, Pretty Allie, and three of the SWAT personnels bought by Damien.

Team B was led by Dru and Haley followed by the remaining three tactical teams storming in from the front entrance in order to ensure that no survivors passed the asylum alive.

Everything that was Jack Napier was now a dead clown strapped on a metal chair. Damien observed his corpse with a dark pleasure. The Joker's death in itself symbolized a mark for change. For so long has this maniac plagued the streets that his name was the one thing that people could never rub their mind off of. Now he would be forgotten much like everything else that was eased to exist. Families, friends, spouses, all have been avenged. Just a few more minutes worth of genocide, and the world would go back to the way it should be.

Damien walked out of the room and into the main hall of Arkham as he now heard a shrill of mental patients crying in agony following a bark of gunshot to bring about silence. Under Damien's strict orders, the guards and staff workers were simply neutralized by tazers and in Dru's case, a crushing blow on the head, none of them were to be killed.

The millionaire ceased his movements and listened attentatively at the apocalypse he had just started. Criminals from all around the building screamed for mercy and demanded justice. Their pleas were ignored and they faced their death penalty as deserved. This was the beautiful justice of Damien Crest.

Inglund Haley was ravished by the rattle of his gunshot as he deposited fresh bullets into his moving targets. He kicked every cell door open and fired blindly at the room with an automatic MP5 in his arms. Being trapped in their tiny rooms with no place to hide, the inmates had a high chance of being shot by even a blind person as long as he pointed inside the room.

One thing haunted him however. As he broke into room 104, he was baffled to realize that it was the first one of all the rooms to have been empty. What scared him more was that the room was indeed occupied by a patient as indicated by the asylum charts. A man who went by the name of Jonathan Crane was meant to be quartered in that very room yet for some odd reason he was nowhere to be found.

Dru had already killed close to 20 patients singlehandedly with his katana. The blade was drenched in bloodstains fuming into his nostrils. It helped him numb his mind from his failure at killing Batman, all the ruthless slaughter was making him feel godly once more.

But it wasn't complete. The only thing he wanted more dearly than anything else in the world was another fight against Batman. The disgrace had nearly brought him to suicide. But he understood that it wasn't the way he was taught in the league of shadows. "If you give up because of failure, only then have you truly failed." That was one of his elder master's sayings that he had grown to respect and relish. He had even made a silent prayer for another chance to prove himself. Dru had learned from his mistakes and managed to pick up some techniques based on his last encounter with Batman that he would most definitely put to use if they were to ever meet again.

25 kills later, all the lights in Arkham asylum died with no warning.

Dru's prayers had been answered.

'This was it,' thought Damien. It was even as Jack had put it. "The dark is his friend and your enemy." A few seconds ago Arkham was lit from every nook to cranny, now there was nothing to see but darkness itself. Damien held his revolver close to his chest.

Inglund couldn't stay calm. He knew that the Batman was here, but he couldn't see where. The SWAT men behind were completely oblivious to the matter.

"What the hell?" one of them thought aloud.

Haley turned around and ordered, "Shut up." Then he spoke into a walkie talkie planted on his shoulder. "Guys the Bat is here. Nightvision goggles on."

Neutralizing Batman would be something completely new to the crooked SWAT teams who had before fought on his side. It wasn't something that they taught at the academy, so the only hope they had of success was the experience of criminals. That was Buchkam and his men. They only prayed that it would be suffice to do the job.

B Team was making slow and careful steps forward in the asylum hallways. Dru was in the front gripping the handle of his blade calmly yet shook uncontrollably of anxiety on the inside. He wasn't supplied with goggles because he didn't need them. Being an apprentice at the League of Shadows he had acquired the skills to see flawlessly in the dark.

Suddenly, a loud series of high pitched shrills flooded the asylum.

"What the hell is that?" one of the team members wondered.

Dru stood silently still and ordered the men to do the same. Haley tried to keep his automatic faced at the direction of the noise, but it came from all around them. This was bad.

Suddenly, the noise grew abherently louder and a series of objects invisible due to the darkness brushed past the mercenaries and their tactic teams. Panicked, every man fired their weapons at the tiny objects. Nobody could figure out what was happening, what it was that they were feeling flying past them, and how it managed to author the high pitched noise. It was a haunting mystery to everyone except Dru.

Dru had not so much as moved a muscle. The thing that had been giving his comrades a hard time was nothing more than just a stock of bats flying about in the asylum as if they had somehow been summonded there. It was just a diversion and Dru knew it, but decided to say nothing. The inexperienced men behind him would serve as his own piece of bait to lure out his enemy.

A Team was just as confused as B. Even more so because Dru wasn't in their company. The nightvision did little to help because the creatures had been moving so fast, and there was only so much clarity the goggles could provide. But Buckham was a smart tactician, smart enough to know that anything that wasn't stomping on them right now was only meant to pave a path for it.

"Hold your fire!" he ordered twice, once to his teammates and another to the B Team whose gunfires echoed throughout the halls.

Allie wasn't scared, the sounds of gunfire didn't touch her pulse one bit. After all she was a demolitions expert, noise came with the property.

Fredrich Stumps stood two men in front of the entire team. His eyes were focused up front to where Allie and Buckham were looking, trying to find the slightest trace of their intruder.

"Aaagghh!" came from behind. Fredrich turned around to investigate the matter. His green nightvision goggles caught his partner Ellie, but the man behind him, Jax, was nowhere in sight.

"What the hell happened?" Fredrich asked Ellie who now looked as if he had seen a ghost. He blurted out a series of gibberish and pointed up at the ceiling. Fredrich's heart started to throb louder and faster. He slowly raised his head at a ninety degree angle and witnessed a horror. A creature blurry had his hands cupped from backwards on the walls and his body enormous in size nearly flashing. Fredrich's heart pounded uncontrollably now, his blood was flowing faster than a lightning strike. With all his agility, he brought his gun up towards to ceiling as fast as he could. But without warning his nightvision goggles had failed, everything else became dark again.

"Aaaaahh!"

B Team heard the screams transmitted in their walkie talkies. If it wasn't already too late for the first offensive, they were in trouble. Buckham's entire squard including him could have been neutralized, and if that was the case then B Team was next on the list.

"Buckham!" Inglund yelled at the walkie talkie. He waited patiently for three seconds, there was no reply. "Buckham!" he tried again. Still no response. He was angry, but managed to compose himself by taking long deep breaths. "We head to the front exit. And make sure your nightvision stays on," ordered Haley. "Stick close."

Slowly but surely, B Team had made it to the dark abbandoned lobby of the asylum intact. The front door was all their last obstacle. Haley and his new allies stuck close together almost touching each other throughout the movement. Dru walked in front in a leader position making sure the path was safe.

Haley's eyes shined bright like a star upon seeing their way out. He broke into a sprint preparing his body to slam the door with his shoulders.

"Don't!" came Dru, but only too late. Before Haley could have gone to even touch the door a giant sized net fell on top of him and the weights attached to the edges brought enough strength to pull him down on the ground.

For only a couple of seconds could the men in nightvision goggles see their comrade trapped like an animal, because afterwards the goggles had simply died out rendering the men with guns helpless to all the blows they were to face afterwards.

The miniature EMP charge performed a lot better than Batman had anticipated them to. The small weapon nearly as big as a current day cellular phone was able to squeeze in his utility harness with ease. He was thankful for deciding to try it out on the battlefield. Things would not have gone as easily as they had if he left them behind.

Batman socked individually each of the three remaining men clump together. After he was done with them they fell down in a pile on top of one another unconscious. Batman raised his head up to meet the last man who was coincidentally the same swordman he had earlier encountered a few days ago. This time the bladed foe took no chances. He swung the heavy sword across the sides, Batman delivered a frontflip that not dodged the swing, but landed him right behind the warrior. As he prepared his wrist for a backward blow, Dru had already anticipated such an attack and took no time to turn his head around and instead motioned the blade pointing on a left straff of his sides. He sunk it deep behind but the razor's edge stabbed at nothing but the bare wind.

Dru turned around to observe Batman's location, almost startled to see a black fist launching at his face. He shifted his head from the hit, and now being able to clearly spot Batman's chest, the mercenary swung his blade once more across the sides of his foe's stomach.

With his metal armband, Batman intercepted the blade and held his hand in a steady place so as to hold the sword away from another swing.

Enraged, Dru motioned to pull back the sword through his hilt but it was jammed in place. He shifted his head and thought to prepare for a fist attack, but Batman came first.

A loud pound smashed the mercenary on the face and he was on the verge of unconsciousness. But he was wide awake even more so now than before. The hit left a temporary migraine that was unshakable, he would have to manage for the duration of his consciousness.

Batman took no mind to the fact that this enemy had endured one of the most painful hits ever thrown. Instead he composed himself to try and finish him.

Dru despite being fast was unable to land a single stab at the buoyant enemy. He propelled swings after swings but none of it came any closer to hitting him than the last. His impatience grew and out of a foolish flinch, he made the one last move that had given himself to his enemy.

Dru tried to land a straight kick on Batman's chest. Upon seeing this, Batman countered by shifting to a right shaft, ducking and tripping him down on the ground with a swift kick on the standing leg.

He had slammed on the hard cement floor with an abundance of pain but still managed to stay awake.

Batman came close to him to bring about a change to that. But suddenly a single gunfire shot was blared from behind. Only half a second after, Batman felt a piercing convulson straight in his back that cut through the biweave armor and flew straight in his flesh.

"Aaaggh!" he screamed unable to sustain the searing burn. Only moments after another loud racket was followed by another bullet in the back before Batman could even think about evasion.

"You should have stayed at home," suggested the man behind carrying the voice of Damien Crest. He stood where he was with his aim focused on Batman knowing that close combat was out of the equation even if his target was helpless. "I hope you know, this isn't personal," was his way of saying goodbye. Damien thumbed down on the hammer of his .357.

His hands though weak, were now his only chance of survival. Batman dug them into his utility harness shivering uncontrollably and fished out a canister of smoke gas. With all the power he could muster, he broke the canister on the floor and with no further due, it emmitted a sensation of black smoke blinded the lobby.

Automatically, Damien coughed for a breath of fresh air. He walked out of the lobby doors without even thinking, without even pondering about the Batman or his whereabouts. His head was feeling light and he needed air to cool down the moisture that was now clouding his mind.

Once past the lobby doors, he got the breath of fresh that he wanted and he was clear from the smoke. Only now he had walked straight into a different problem.

"Freeze hands up! Put the weapon down!"

There were policemen dressed in blue everywhere standing behind their parked cars which had been flashing red and blue sirens amiably. All were armed with a weapon most of them semiautomatic handguns. Most of the men present had even worn the new expensive kevlar armor he had recently purchased for them. He stood still looking across the crowd until he saw the easily recognizable face of Jim Gordon armed with a cold stare.

With a smile across his face, Damien had complied with the order. There was nothing to do anymore, this wasn't worth dying for. Besides, he would be walk out a free man before sunrise.