Chapter 20:
The pounding in my head seemed to accelerate as the doors opened to reveal the other half of the facility. It was like someone was bashing my head in with a tire iron and singing very badly off-key while taunting the living day lights out of me. At least with an enemy in the physical sense, I could finish them off with a couple of hits but mentally? I felt like the world's stupidest chess player. I need my medicine, any medicine to get rid of it. What did that brunette Watcher say before administering the last dose I got before today? The one who got skinned alive by that creepy old guy and made into a new top hat for him? Clozapine I think, and boy did that help! Seriously I kept seeing blue elephants for hours after. What a buzz!
So, shopping list: Clozapine, Penocilin, something to eat (maybe a type of pasta; the nurses always recommend it on their rounds to their co-workers even though I've never seen it. Maybe it's a type of bread?), The Queen Bitches' Head on a Platter, something less freakish to wear, something to bring back my memories and another delicious cake too much on while I clunk this Joker guy in the nogging. Such a funny word; nogging! Noggy, doesn't it sound like another word for a quickie?
We pasted yet another patch of dead weeds, fire gardeners of Arkham knew there was something I forgot, where a tangled piece of what looked like metal constructs for kids lay rusting nearby. "What's that?" I asked, curiously, because it can't be a type of art nor comfortable to sit on. What are they then, a memorial to some dead guy or perhaps some high-tech security system. I spotted a rolled up piece of paper near it, which I unrolled in my infinite amount of curiosity and wonder. "Tweedledum and Tweedledee SAW it, can you SEE it?" I read, slightly impressed by the good handwriting displayed in a very vibrant green. It's a riddle, so our friend Riddles must have written the thing. Not enough to have a good voice but he has a good sense of penmanship too? He could write on my back anyway ... this headaches making me weird. I should stop.
"A SeeSaw, it's a child's teeter-totter for their entertainment. They bounce up and down while using each other as counter-weights. Pretty ridiculous but better than just sitting and counting clouds I suppose!" Selena's voice echoed quietly behind me as she answered my question easily. Why can't she just answer every question so neatly? I may not know who I am but a few passing remarks isn't exactly a whole back story. I need to know, I need to have an explanation to all of this, or what do I have? A single name and a book I once loved? Is that all that remains of a life?
"congratulations on that Miss Kyle, almost as impressive as actually learning to count. Tell me, do you even read or is beating men a defence mechanism for your lack of competent intelligence?" the familiar voice of Riddles spoke through our headpieces, still as hot as ever. Can she read? Not sure, but you can read a dictionary to me any day baby and it'll still be a turn on.
"It seems I just can't get rid of you can I Riddle de dum? Oh well, keep the volume down and we'll get along fine. You can just mingle with the other voices in my head!" I spoke back with impertinent and insolence written plainly on my face to amuse him as I'm sure he's watching me right now. The pervert. I'm bored ok, and he's interesting so don't judge me. I looked ahead as he summed the brain for a counter-argument. Some jerkasses were smashing up the bat's car and believe me it looked like a beauty. A length of 260-263 inches with a cast alloy set of indestructible wheels and an impressive black paint job, it looked the part. It must have a set of weapons inside as well, which increases my desire for one. Perhaps when it's fixed from all the devastation that these buffoons have done to it, he'll take me out on a test drive. Yep, I want one. In a custom black and red paint job too. The Hailey-mobile, or maybe Queenmobile. Oh, I want one!
"Looks like the Bat's mobile pretty smashed up. Oh, and Schizo? I'd recommend not swimming in the river, it looks like Croc's gone for a dip and being eaten is not exactly fun even for a crazy!" his voice tuned out as I looked at the devastation. Now what is the point of this, come on guys! It's just not good sportsmanship and its only going to get you a couple of broken limbs!
We hit them out before they had time to rectify their mistakes. And I believe that the extra damage I inflicted on them would straighten them out or at least cause enough pain so that they can't walk again anyway. I need to find a more less contacted weapon if I am to be fighting any longer, since my hands seem to be going bloody with all these punches. I there's something TV hasn't shown me since spending time in that absurdly small cell is that bare fisted fighting hurts when your hands are bare. Seriously, ow! I need a weapon that won't cause death but will knock people out. A staff perhaps, or a set of batons? But where can I get some in this dump. Oh well, adding it to shopping list I suppose.
"There's a supply of Explosive Gel in the trunk of the Batmobile, along with some other supplies we might be needing. Hailey? Get it, while Selena and I scope out some way to trace the commissioner. Hopefully the trail can be picked up again!" the Bat's gruff voice ranged out. Is he gargling marbles in that mask? Somehow it can't be his natural one. I rolled my eyes at the idea, as if his balls have dropped low enough to get that pitch - he's such a baby. Baba Bat, new nickname in a barrel.
I popped the trunk and rummaged around. There was what looked to be a gun thingy that may be this explosive gel thing Bat man remarked on, but also a couple of gadgets I have no clue on. So he's whimsically inventive, perhaps as a way to compensate for his lack of a girlfriend. Or maybe he has a girlfriend and has no way of wooing her, is batman a eunuch? I looked away to see Selena and Batty-No-Balls to be investigating an old pipe. Seriously, I have no idea if he's endowed. Maybe, hmm?
Anyway, there's nothing to do but bring my spoils to batsy for disruption. That's when I spotted the grunt on the ground's very fancy looking jacket. It looked warm and had a large wool collar and lapels to block out the wind like some sort of air force jacket. What are they called? Bomber jackets? I rolled him over, unconscious thank-god, before stripping him of the jacket. It's cold out tonight and I need something warmer then this crazy thing. The costume was just a catsuit, with no insulating layers to speak off. I shrugged off the tutu and replaced the jacket around me, making sure that the holsters around my legs were still accessible. I need a shirt, some trousers and some more decent effects to make it better. The boots can stay, the gloves can not, and the catsuit isn't practical. I'm not walking around like a crazy person. Not anymore.
I silently handed bats the prizes, which he lay on the ground and sorted methodically. I left him to it and headed back to shut the trunk when I saw it. A thin black wire sticking out of the trunk. A wire I can use to hack the Bat's mobile to get information out of him with. I took out the HPDC - Hailey Positioning Device Communicator - to do just that. The little connector sticking out of it seemed to need to be connected to the wire so I took one of the daggers and flicked back the safety covering around it very carefully. It's alive, so electrocution would be a danger had it not had been for my steady hands. I connected the two wires and made sure that the two masked vigilantes weren't paying attention to me. They were talking about tobacco scents and how prepared Batman is, blah, blah, blah, flirting crap. I want to try this 'Wild Country' stuff Gordony-boy is apparently taking, anything to get rid of this freaking headache.
A small ping on the HPDC alerted me back to the situation at hand. Oh. My. God. I have access to the entirety of Batman's servers. And I mean all of them. Including Wayne enterprises, which funds all of his exploits and toys. Making him Bruce Wayne's bitch. Or Bruce Wayne himself. I know his identity. I know his freaking identity. Riddler ... I hurried to press security around the information so he couldn't pigeonhole it and therefore take away one of my more powerful allies. Fuck. He's Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy with a dark back story. I'm fucked hard now, and now I need to do my little walk of shame in carrying this secret to my (hopefully far off) grave. Why isn't amnesia something that you can do on will alone? I'd be happy not to know, but noooooo, I had to get curious. Damn it!
"Joker here! Let me remind all new residents of Joker Asylum that they are expected to follow one simple rule. Punishment for not following this rule is death. No ifs, ands or buts. You know what the best thing is about the rule. It's a secret!" the idiot cried in hysterical laughter, interrupting my own self-loathing thoughts. I need my Xanax, my Clozapine, my Penocilin, Lithium, Seroquel and Abilify cocktail mixed with a good cup of water. I need my freaking drugs, god is this withdrawal? Bitch, bastard, pigbutt. Yep, I'm on withdrawal. Perfect.
Damn my life.