ARKHAM ASYLUM

A ROMANTIC HOUSE ON A SELFLESS EARTH

The smoke was already filling the hallway. Bishop had climbed onto his front, his father had taught him long ago that it rises, and you've a better chance on your belly. He could hear the metallic clangs and echoes of prisoners screaming, and the blaring drone of the fire alarm. Across from him was Harry Kowalski, a brutish man with a face for radio and an IQ low enough to misspell the word. He stood upright, hacking a barrage of coughs into his hand.

"Jus' lay down, Harry, for Christ sake."

"Yeah, it's better I do," he struggled to say inbetween heaving gasps as he plopped onto the floor. "Good idea, B, do you kno—" he coughed harder, spluttering saliva across the dusty floor of the cell. "Do you know what's goin' on? I heard it was a bustout, some kinda escape plan maybe?" Harry rubbed his eyes and took in fresh air.

"I don't know. Just keep your head down and put your shirt over your mouth and the guards'll come, alright? Jesus, it's thick in here. Must be just down the way. Who's down there?"

"Sandusky and Morales they're the closest. I wonder if they got out? Screw em, he owed me a pack anyway."

"You're all heart."

"I'm serious. Couple a burns might remind em not to flunk out on me."

Bishop couldn't hold onto the conversation. His head was swirling and the chemical, pungent stench of the fire was too much. He couldn't make out much except for screams, and the flickering, gradual heat that crawled towards them like some old hulking beast.

"We're gonna burn up soon if we don't figure out someth—"

"Get em open, get em into the courtyard—Damn it, luckily they were closed. Come on," said a voice on the other side of the cell. "Bishop, Kowalski, let's go. This whole wing is being emptied unless you like barbecue," said Jackson—a thin, weasel-like guard with a goatee and slickback hair.

"You ain't gotta tell us twice," said Bishop as he got to his feet to the rattle of the cell door clanging open. "Time to go."

They'd sprinted through the hallways, and he'd only looked back once to see the raging fire that spread out as if to reach for them. "Damn," he said before he was welcomed into the freezer that was Blackgate's courtyard. Out here where the flakes gently fell there was a crowd of other inmates all slumped together and hunched down for warmth.

"You guys okay?" asked Jackson as he stepped out from the doors.

"Yeah, perfect," said Bishop as he brushed himself off.

"Good. You guys were the last ones. Get over there," he said, prodding a baton into Bishop's back gently. "No funny moves, you dig?"

"No funny moves," said Bishop with a grunt as they headed over to the small crowd.

"Any idea what started the fire?" asked Harry to Jackson.

"Nada, just get into the crowd and things will get sorted."

Things will get sorted.

Sorted.

He'd thought back to Blackgate for a moment, and he wasn't sure why. Those words Jackson said hung in the air as he looked over the shimmering landscape. He was stood leaning on the railing of the entrance to the Medical Facility overlooking Gotham that glinted against the behemoth that was Wayne Tower. In the distance Bishop could make out the annoying, rhythmic chatter of those damn teeth the Joker had left everywhere while he smoked a cigarette Harry had found on one of the guards.

The cool air made the hairs stand up on his arms, and he found himself listening to the distant hammering thuds across the way at the penitentiary. Joker had got some other goons to begin setting up some kind of wooden entrance for the Bat but that didn't bother him; truth be told he wasn't even supposed to be here. Harry was swinging around a wooden bat while a bunch of other nameless goons leaned on the door of the Medical Facility and shot the shit as he heard Harry's footsteps closer behind.

"Gotta say, when we were almost burning I didn't think there was a reason, but Joker? I mean, shit. There's worse things to do, you know? I'm glad we got dragged along for the ride."

"I don't know," said Bishop, inhaling deeply. "I'd have preferred it back in my cell."

"And miss all this fun?"

Bishop nodded and took another drag. "Fun. Yeah. You remember how long I had left on my sentence?"

"Ugh," Harry groaned, scratching his head. "Like forty-four days?"

"Forty-two. Forty-two. Now I'm screwed either way. Why'd you bring me along, Kowalski?"

"I dunno. Just figured it was right. You helped me not suffocate in the cells so I returned the favour. Why not just tell the cops you wasn't in on this?"

"Cause they'll kick my ass and drag me to Joker which means I'm screwed. Or I'll go back to the cell and the freakin' Bat will knock me out, and then I'm screwed. Or maybe Joker will see to it I'm suckin' in that gas a his before the night's out. Basically, I'm screwed." Bishop nodded his head towards the three goons who were bickering loudly. "They'd kill me like they gunned down half the medical staff."

"I mean, you got a point. Okay, so why not just swim to Gotham? I won't say shit. Just take off now."

Bishop rolled his eyes and handed Harry the half-smoked cigarette. He took it and inhaled. It wasn't the worst idea, but he wasn't a great swimmer, and he hated deep water. It could be easy to run, easy to hide but would it make a difference going back to his cell here in Arkham and pretend he wasn't in on Joker's fun ride? That could work except for the cameras saw him out here, running about, talking to the other goons. No, he was screwed. It was time to accept that.

Below the balcony there was a sudden rattle and the sound of a small squeak. Hmm. It was too loud to be a rat—who was he kidding? There was a man-croc down in the depths and a clown prince up top. It didn't matter, Harry was droning on now about what he was going to do to the medical staff when he decided it was more entertaining to investigate than sit here and listen to Harry's ideas for bouncing heads off walls.

"Shh," said Bishop. "You hear that?"

"Hear what?"

The faint sound of chattering teeth and wooden hammering was all that echoed out.

"I'm gonna go check it out. I'll be back," said Bishop as he walked down the steps, past the goons, and around to the lift that didn't seem to be working.

To his left was a clump of bushes, a small slide of rocks and mud and a tree that crawled out from between the dirt. It was here that he could make out a small metallic manhole and crouched down, realizing he'd found something on top of it. Somebody had tried to pry open the thing but to no avail. To the right of it was a baby blue coloured inhaler.

The bushes rustled and he heard the faint, high-pitched squeak. He lunged forward and pulled away at the bushes and another gasp followed as the thick shrubbery gave way to a pale face that stared back with wide eyes, brimming with fear. Her mouth opened, the creases at each end going down. "Please—don't—"

He put a finger to his lips. Damn it, don't talk.

"Anythin' down there?" he heard Harry yell.

She had a short, boyish haircut and her eyes were red from the tears that stained her pinkish cheeks. The green medical Arkham getup was stained with mud. Her hands went to her mouth and he made out dark, painted fingernails. He imagined what she was thinking in this moment, what any girl would think when some kind of psychotic criminal found them. Her eyes told him everything, asking him everything. Are you going to hurt me? Can I run? Are you some sicko?

"I'm just taking a piss, was just a big rat, place is crawlin' with em."

He heard Harry let out a laugh. "Hurry up. Boss wants us to sweep the facility before the Bat gets here."

"Be right there," he said with his eyes closed. Shit.

The girl with the tear-stained eyes looked at him and he stared back. He reached out gently and he saw her freeze up. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered. "You aren't safe here. You're from the med' facility, right?"

She nodded.

"Stay down, out of sight, alright? If any of these guys find out you're here, they'll do much worse to you."

"Wait," she reached out and grabbed his arm. He felt the sudden rush of hot metal heating on his finger and the light went out. "Don't go. I can't—"

"What?"

"Please, help me. I need—" He saw her look over to the manhole cover, her eyes setting down on the inhaler.

He looked at her could hear the raspiness in her voice. "You're an asthmatic?"

"I need my inhaler…but it's…I dropped it over there," she said, pleading,

"Oh shit," he said with a groan. "Okay," he whispered.

He heard the echoing tune that was the tannoy system. "Joker here! Just a quick shoutout to my boys doing their rounds. Feel free to give any of the interns a cavity search, lord knows how many they've given me! AhaHAAHAHAHAHA!"

"What is happening, why are you doing this?" asked the girl.

"Joker turned the asylum into a madhouse—and all of the inmates are free. I wasn't supposed to be here. What happened?"

He saw fresh tears build up in her eyes but the rumbling struggle in her chest gave way. He reached over to the manhole cover and snatched the inhaler. She snatched it from him and inhaled deeply. Her shoulders which were hunched up, faltered as she took in fresh air. "They just started shooting. They locked up Kellerman and took doctor Young. I only made it out because I was out here and hid."

"Okay, well look. You're not safe here. You need to go."

"Anywhere I go they'll kill me. Please, help me. I don't know why this is happening."

"You and me both," he replied with a groan.

There was a sudden swooping gust of air and echoing screams. Bishop tackled the girl and they both fell into the bushes. Above them was the sound of metallic thuds.

"It's the freakin' Bat," yelled one of the goons.

"Kick his ass," yelled another.

It was fast. There was a barrage of thuds, groans, and what sounded like muffled vibrations above them until finally there came one final smash, and then pure silence. Bishop looked at the girl who was busy staring up at the sky with hope. The sound of the doors opened and then there was silence once more. Bishop relaxed and leaned back on the wall.

"The Bat," he said. "He got here so quick, shit."

"Well that's good. We can go now, right?"

"I think so. You can make it to the exit, right? Wait—" he grabbed her arm as she climbed out of the bushes. "Wait. No. I remember we moved through there with Quinn after Joker iced Boles."

"Frank Boles?"

"He was working with them—must have pissed them off. Listen, either way, the entrance is off-limits."

"But what if the Batman cleared it?"

"What if he didn't? They have guns. They'll gun us down."

"Us?" she asked, her eyes wide but a look of incredulity spread onto her face. "You're one of them."

"I'm not one of them, lady. I didn't want to be here in Arkham in the first place. I just got dragged along with my buddy, Harry. And right now he's up there bleeding and knocked out. I've seen how Joker deals with his goons—they all end up dead or jailed. So let me at least help you get out."

"Why are you helping me?"

"Because," he said as he bit his lip. He blew a puff of air out of his nose. "I'm not a thug—I'm just a guy who wants to serve his time quietly, alright? I didn't sign up for this."

She looked him over. He was a muscular build, sporting a ragged, tan-colored jumpsuit. He knew how he came across and guessed she trusted him about as far as she could throw him. There was only the faint sound of a whistling wind between them as she stared back.

"So what's the plan?" she asked.

"Well you tried to get into that," he said pointing a finger at the manhole cover. "My guess is Joker hasn't made it to the sewers or wherever it leads. We can go there. I'm sure it's safer than going through all the guards."

"What's your name?" she asked as he crouched and snuck forward.

"James Bishop but everybody calls me Bishop."

"I would have taken you for a Jimmy. Sounds much more crimey."

"That's what my victims always say," he said with a grunt as the manhole cover slid off.

He saw her rub at her arm and the worry from before had come back. "Oh, hey, I was kidding."

"What did they put you in here for?"

"I was transferred from Blackgate with all of Joker's squad by accident. And for your information, I was in there for burglary."

"Oh," she said as she walked towards the manhole cover.

"So I killed the guy before he could call the cops."

"That's not funny," she replied as she headed down the ladder.

"Some of us still have a sense of humor," he said with a smile before following after her. He slid the manhole cover back over.