Author's note: I think alerts are teh suck again.
Jen Rock: Hmm, been reading my mind, have you? (-shifty eyes-) I'm glad you like it. I hate killing Gordon (and...the rest...) but when the zombies come along, sadly, they aren't going to restrict themselves to eating just the boring/unimportant people. In an actual zombie invasion, I think it's far more likely that the few survivors would have lost everyone they ever cared about, than to have them say, "Well, the world is over, but at least I still have you."
"I don't like this plan," said the Joker.
"I know, but it will work, and it poses almost no danger to the four of us—"
"We should get Red," Harley interrupted.
"Poison Ivy?" the Riddler said with some trepidation. "What help could she be?"
"We don't have time to think about friendship," the Scarecrow reminded her. She pouted.
"Well, she is my best friend, and I'm not leaving her! But, anyway, you should see her movie collection. Night of the Triffids, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, Troll, Troll 2, Stay Out of the Basement, I Married a Monster From Outer Space…"
"Dear child, pod people from Mars are not the same as flesh eating zombies," the Scarecrow said.
"It's the same principle! And I bet she knows more than you do."
"At least she can handle herself in a fight," the Riddler said reluctantly.
"If she has plants to manipulate. Which she doesn't, here. I say we leave her," the Joker said.
"Puddin!"
The Scarecrow considered it. Dr. Isley could be useful, and she wouldn't necessarily make his presence redundant. She might understand the conventions of bad science fiction movies better than he ever would, but he had already studied the habits of the undead creatures more thoroughly than anyone else alive, probably. He certainly knew more about them already than any of the others would have learned even if they watched for weeks on end.
"We might be able to use her," he admitted. "If nothing else, it will give those things one more warm body to chase."
"She'd be warmer if we set her on fire," the Riddler muttered. The Scarecrow wondered just what had gone on between the two of them to put him into that state of mind.
"Have you been talking to the Noble Porpoise again?" the Joker asked.
"Loony," the Scarecrow muttered.
"I am not a loony! Well…yes, I am."
The Scarecrow took a deep breath and pushed his glasses further up his nose.
"Let's take Poison Ivy with us. If you want to set her on fire, Nygma, you can do it later. For now, we need to get across the hall."
"I'm on it," the Joker said merrily, and started bashing at the glass with his crowbar. The zombies were immediately attracted to the noise.
"This is never going to work," said the Riddler.
"Of course it isn't. This is the suicide squad." The Scarecrow stalked over to the other side of the room to avoid any further conversation.
Of course, he really didn't believe that any of them were going to survive the night, but that would have been all right if the others had just shown a little fear. Sure, the Riddler was afraid, but he seemed more intimidated by them than by the zombies, and more afraid of being left alone than he was of them, and the only real effect of his fear was a certain clingy pessimism that was more irritating than informative. Harley and the Joker weren't affected even that much. You would have thought they faced legions of the walking dead every other Thursday.
The glass cracked under the strain of being attacked by the Joker. Understandable.
And then they ran like mad. They shoved their way through the crushing mass of zombies, dodging grasping hands and bite-happy jaws. The Joker fended them off with more enthusiasm than skill. There was certainly a squee in his smile today. Since his crowbar was the only weapon they had between the four of them, Harley and the Scarecrow used blankets as makeshift whips to drive the zombies back…and that worked about as well as you might expect. Lucky for them, despite his apparent uselessness, the Riddler was as quick as he had promised them he could be. Within seconds, they were inside the Mad Hatter's cell with the door sliding shut, trapping only a few of the things inside with them.
The Scarecrow and Harley together managed to bash one's head against the wall until its brain started oozing out of its forehead. The Joker took out the rest with his crowbar while the Mad Hatter watched, mildly disturbed.
"What did you do that for?" he asked.
"They're zombies, Hat Guy," Harley explained. "Flesh eating zombies. The only way to kill them is to destroy the brain."
"Oh." He yawned. "What are you doing in my room?"
"We're escaping. You want to come, or what?"
"Oh…well, yes, all right." He stood up. "Flesh eating zombies, you say?"
"Yeah, but don't worry. They move slow. You can outrun them, easy."
"Oh…yes, I see." He prodded the remains of one of the zombies with a toe. He even looked a little mournful, probably because this particular zombie had been wearing a hat that was now crushed and stained with blood and brains.
"The only thing is, we want to be able to get past the ones that are here, without attracting any more. So we'd really like for Mr. J. to be able to stop breaking down all the doors, and the Riddler says you have some kind of electronic doohickey that can open doors and stuff."
"How did you know about that?" the Mad Hatter asked, fixing the Riddler with a piercing stare. The Riddler just smirked, apparently feeling that he was more in his element with this level of villain.
"So, are you going to come with us?"
"Yes…yes, that would be nice."
"The Joker should cover our rear," the Scarecrow said, "unless he feels willing to give up his weapon."
"Not my shnoogums," the Joker said, cuddling with the crowbar, which by now was so covered in gore it didn't even resemble the gleaming metal tool it had once been.
"Right, then." Oh, but that was disgusting.
"I'll use the magic doodlybopper," Harley said brightly, snuggling up to her Puddin and his messy crowbar. It would take far more than one of those to pry the two of them apart.
"You lead, Jervis. We'll be right behind you."
The Mad Hatter didn't seem to catch on to the flaw in this plan.
"Let me just get the…'magic doodlybopper,' as you say."
"Wait a minute!" Harley exclaimed. "Where do you keep this thing? I've seen prison movies! Heck, I'm in prison! I don't want to touch this thing if you—" He reached down and pulled a thumb-sized piece of black plastic out of his pillowcase. "Oh. What do you keep it in there for?"
"Would you rather I crammed it up my ass?" he asked innocently.
"Never mind." She took it from him. "So how does this thing work, anyway?"
"You just point it at the door you want to open, press the button, and it emits…no, you wouldn't understand. It magically opens the door for you."
"Neat," she said.
"Yes. Neat."
"'Kay. Well. Time to run!" She opened the door, and the Riddler and the Scarecrow stepped up behind the Mad Hatter and shoved him out into the hall.
The zombies were very interested.
"Run fast," the Scarecrow taunted as the Mad Hatter, absolutely shocked, locked eyes with him.
"You all suck," the Mad Hatter said. Then he took off running down the hall. The zombies, recognizing moving and reachable prey, shambled after him. The four of them in the cell remained silent and kept absolutely still, so they could clearly hear the poor guy's terrified screaming as he ran away. The Scarecrow basked in the sound, straining to hear it as it faded into the distance, hoping to discern the precise moment when the fear would be mixed with pain as they caught him and began to feed.
Yes, it was a shame to waste a life like this, especially the life of someone he rather liked. But sometimes sacrifices had to be made. He could live with it.
"Shall we?" he asked, when he judged that no more zombies would be following the Mad Hatter. The hallway was now considerably clearer; only six of the creatures, all of them former doctors, were left to try to chew through the glass. Harley obliged them by opening the door, and the four of them stepped out into the hall.
The Scarecrow stayed close to Harley; until it became inconvenient, the Joker would protect her as fiercely as he did himself. And even unarmed, the two of them working together could manage to fight off the things without too much risk of being bitten.
The Riddler did a passable job of fending them off with the Mad Hatter's pillow, but it quickly became obvious that, on his own, he was going to become undead in very short order. They came to his rescue as soon as the other zombies had been dispatched.
And that put the fear of god in him, yes it did. Finally, a little healthy terror complete with shaking and nausea. The Scarecrow felt a good bit more secure.
They showed the Riddler no pity as they ran off toward the end of the hall—not the end the Mad Hatter had run to, of course—stopping only to let Poison Ivy out of her cell.
"No time to explain, Red. Let's go," Harley said, dragging her friend out by the arm. Across the way, Maxie Zeus and Arnold Wesker (and Scarface) watched them curiously. Harley waved at "Puppet Head," but they didn't stop to chat.
In fact, they didn't stop at all until they reached the very end of the hall, and the one cell that they had all sworn they would never approach, under any circumstances. This cell had a steel door, not glass, not to prevent the prisoner from escaping, but to keep him separated from the other inmates.
"What are we doing here of all places?" Poison Ivy demanded. Harley shrugged.
"We need him."
"Lock-Up?"
"Believe me, none of us likes the idea," the Scarecrow said stiffly, trying his best to cover the blinding terror and helpless rage that welled up in him in equal measure at the very thought of interacting with Lyle Bolton again. "But he's strong enough to help us fight, and he knows the security systems better than any of us."
"You're assuming he'd be willing to help us escape."
"He'll help us if he wants to live," Harley said cheerfully, and opened the door.
The Scarecrow was aware only of a blur of motion before he was physically lifted off the ground by the strength of the blow to his ribs. Then his flight came to an abrupt halt as he collided with the wall, and that was the end of it for a little while.