Chapter Eleven: Flight Through Arkham
[Jeanette's POV:]
I would sincerely love to tell you that I'd dodged that pop-spring boxing glove, spun around and taken Joker out with a few tricks that would have done Xena proud, then walked away with my head held high in triumph to treat myself to a dinner at a spectacular Chinese buffet after putting Hugo Strange in his place.
But I'm not my younger cousin Catriona, and I'm certainly no Batman. I am Jeanette Marie Harker, and I work in a library. Beating a skinny, near-defenseless mystic half to death with a metal baseball bat is one thing. Dodging a surprise attack from the Joker in the middle of Arkham with nothing but the clothes on my back, the wallet in my coat pocket, and a pair of high-heeled boots was quite another.
So yes. I took the glove in the face in the most literal sense of the phrase. I at least had enough sense to turn my head to the side at last second, but I was knocked back and off my feet regardless. I slammed into the floor, pain erupting in my side as another round of the Joker's hideous laugh began ringing in my ears. I couldn't afford to waste a moment; I scrambled to find my footing, just managing to twist out of the way as I heard the spring release again, the boxing glove smacking into the floor where my head had been only seconds ago. Something about that propelled me to my feet, and I began to run, as fast as I was able to go.
"Spoilsport!" I heard the Joker pout behind me, "You really know how to tick a guy off!"
His footfalls began to sound on the floor behind me and I willed myself to move faster. I had to stay ahead of him, I just had to! And in high-heeled boots, that was a less-than-congenial idea.
Ahead, I saw two guards suddenly running in our direction, and my heart gave a leap of relief.
"Stop!" one of them yelled, and I kept moving, positive he was speaking to the Joker and not I.
"Ooh, why don't you sit down and take a load off, boys?" the Joker laughed behind me, and all too late I heard the spring release again. Before I could shout a warning, one of the guards flew back and hit the floor, unconscious. I couldn't stop the cry that slipped out of my mouth, but I kept moving, hearing the second guard assaulted behind me as I made a sharp right onto one of the catwalks.
"Oh, Miss Harrrrrrkerrrrrr…"
Ugh, and now he was talking in sing-song? Just when a girl thinks things can't get any worse…
Again there was that laugh, the only sound that accompanied the smack of my boots against the floor and the erratic drumming of my heartbeat in my ears. But that didn't last long; I spun toward the left when the catwalk opened back out on the other side, and then the other inmates were at their doors, cheering and jeering.
"You're not going anywhere soon there, Missy…"
"You pissed off the Joker! Ooh, you pissed him off…"
"Keep running, keep running!"
"Don't run! Turn around and wipe that stupid smile off his face!" snapped one, making a grab for my ponytail.
"HEY!" Joker snapped back at her, "Shut it, planty! This is MY turf! You're supposed to root for the home team!"
The brief moment of distraction gave me a chance to surge ahead, and I raced down a hall marked for a number of different one-on-one therapy rooms, passing several stunned orderlies who had been drawing syringes and batons they held awkwardly. One of them, much to my surprise, withdrew a tazer from her pocket and began to take aim.
"DON'T WASTE THAT ON ME!" I shrieked at her, jerking my thumb over my shoulder, "HIT HIM!" I didn't pause to see if she did anything, but at least she didn't use it on me, and soon the orderlies I had passed began to scream. I had a dread feeling the blonde with the tazer didn't manage to get her hit in after all.
"You know," Joker yelled at me from behind, "I hate it when people get an unfair head start and legs like a gazelle! I'm going to bust your kneecaps when I get my hands on you, bookworm!"
I didn't think I had another burst of energy to pick up my speed, but those words somehow proved me wrong. I took another turn, and then another, no longer caring to memorize where I was going; I just had to get away.
Unfortunately, I ended up making another of those stupid mistakes that I'll eventually become infamous for.
I turned into another opening, thinking it an adjacent hall, only to discover it was a staircase. The momentum from my boots had barely slowed and when I put my foot out into the air, I realized my error.
"Oh, Hell!"
I seized the bar on the wall, some sort of guardrail, but it barely slowed my descent. The toe of my boot still caught at the end of the step and I plunged forward, tightening my grip on the rail, my shin smacking hard against the stone. It should have ended there, but my other foot smacked into its partner and my hands were far too clammy with sweat. My hand slid as I began a smacking bounce of a descent down the stairs to the first landing, yelping in pain and praying like a fanatic that my shins didn't shatter. The landing broke my momentum at last, with me having enough sense to at least twist so I landed on my backside and saved my legs any more pain. I would have normally taken my dear sweet time getting up from a fall like that, but that was a luxury I couldn't afford. Gripping the guardrail with both hands, I wrenched myself to a stand again.
"Ugh, and now you're trying to do the job for me?" I heard Joker shriek from the top of the stairs, planting his fist and boxing glove on his hip and glowering. "I HATE when a victim is willing!"
I didn't know what to do. I just moved, launching myself from the landing and sailing in the air over the second flight of steps, hoping to hit the ground below running.
I hit the ground all right, and then a heavy pair of feet suddenly slamming into my back drove me to the floor and sent me rolling a couple yards. Stars swam in my vision and I pushed myself up on my elbows, trying to blink the world back into focus. But my vision remained blurry, and half a panicked second later, I realized why.
My glasses!
And then the laughter started again.
"Gotta say, for a chase scene, you didn't do too bad. I'd give this little run, oh…a three out of five, total score."
I coughed, hoping my panic didn't show, and began to tentatively feel around the floor. Where were my glasses? I glanced up, watching a blurry, colorful shadow step toward me. My heart raced with panic.
Dear God, I am going to die at the hands of a madman.
"Oh, would you look at the time! Bookworm—"
He leaned close enough I could smell his breath, rancid and vile, like too many things left to rot at once.
"—I think you're a bit…overdue."
But whatever he had been planning to follow up that terrible pun with was short-lived. An even larger, ink-black shadow swept across my vision, slamming into the Joker and knocking him away from me. I heard yells and curses as punches were thrown, and swept the floor again with my hands. It took a bit of scrambling, but I finally managed to find my glasses and jam them back onto my face. I twisted where I was crouched, to see the Batman deliver a head blow that knocked the Joker senseless. He seized him by the collar of his less-than-pointless straitjacket before shifting his cold gaze onto me.
"Miss Harker." his voice was even more frigid.
"Before you go saying anything along the lines of how stupid it was of me to come here in the first place," I snapped, shakily getting to my feet and struggling to keep my balance, "I'll have you know that I was assisting family." I wasn't entirely sure why I felt the need to tell him that, but I had the infuriating thought that he would assume I'd actually ventured into this hellhole to see the deranged clown. Certainly I was crazy enough to assault said clown with books should he make threats, but I wasn't so crazy that I was looking to get killed.
"Regardless, I would have hoped you knew better." he growled as orderlies and security guards started to charge down the flight of stairs into the room. At that point, something inside me snapped and my temper flared white-hot with indignant rage. I don't know what possessed me to do it, but in that second I took two strides and got in his face.
"You unbelievable, arrogant, ungrateful, addle-pated, patronizing, over-grown, egotistical, ill-conceived, self-centered, uncouth waste of a man! How dare you make this out to be my fault! Do you really think I've some sort of death wish?" I shouted.
"In case you failed to notice, Miss Harker—"
"No, you bullheaded son of a bitch! I did not fail to notice that you saved my life! Nor did I fail to notice that your stubborn, accusing, justice-fixated excuse of a brain seems to have drawn the conclusion that I started this little mess! I did not come here looking for an insane criminal, I came to help my family! The least you could do is shove your foot in your overwide mouth and actually attempt to do a little detective work on what you see before you rather than only looking at the surface and drawing preposterous conclusions that are as airtight AS A THIMBLE!"
By the time I'd finished screaming this, I'd realized just how much of an audience my temper had garnered. Perhaps a woman with more grace and dignity would have gathered herself, gone red in the face, and mumbled a meek apology to all and made a shy exit.
Not I.
The Batman opened his mouth to say something, but I had had enough. My hand flew of its own accord, and I was rewarded with a satisfying sting in the back of my knuckles when my backhand connected with his skin, rather than his Kevlar. I heard a chorus of gasps, and I spun on the spot.
"Get out of my way!" I snarled, barely recognizing my own voice as I stormed from the room, through the halls, and out the doors of Arkham Asylum.