Jeremiah Arkham marched quickly past the reception desk, and through the doors that led to the staff only areas of Arkham asylum. No one was manning the nurse's station he noticed as he passed it, but that wasn't unusual these days, especially as they only had one nurse for the overnight shift. He guessed the staff would be together, either in the kitchen or the rec room as both areas were staff favorites for idling time away.
He checked both places, moving as quickly as possible through the vast building, but found no one. Worry began to gnaw at him. He had told the day nurse yesterday that he would be arriving this morning; she had to have told the night staff, they should be expecting him. So where was everyone? Moving into a brisk trot Arkham began calling out as he moved along the hallway that led to the stairwell, to the lower levels, and the solitary wing, but no one answered.
His stomach was clenched with fear by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, and turned into the solitary ward. The place was nearly black, as no sunlight could reach this level, so Arkham reached a trembling hand out to flip a switch, turning on the flickering fluorescent lights. A long, grey, narrow hallway stretched before him, lined with doors on the right side. There were thirty padded cells in the ward, barely enough back when Arkham was full with the criminally insane, but now a ridiculously excessive amount for their one patient.
Jeremiah began walking down the hallway apprehensively, but he didn't have far to go. The second cell door was ajar he noticed as he approached, conspicuous against the long row of closed doors. The trepidation grew in him as he slowly leaned his head around the doorframe to peer into the room. What he saw in the cell made him want to vomit.
The bodies of the two dead orderlies littered the room like discarded laundry. Dr. Arkham recognized the still form of Greg in the middle of the padded cell; dried blood soaked his neck, white uniform, and the floor beneath him. Wes was partially propped against the wall the door was on, a syringe protruding from his eye socket.
Jeremiah fled the nightmarish scene, and made his way back up stairs as fast as his legs could carry him. He started towards his office, pulling his cell phone from his pocket as he went, and dialing 911 with fumbling fingers, than held the phone against his ear. It was clear the Joker was loose, there would be no reason for him to stick around the asylum, the rest of the city needed to be warned. Fleetingly the doctor worried about the fate of the night nurse, and wondered if the patient had taken her hostage.
"911, what's the nature of your emergency?" Came a calm feminine voice from his cell phone.
"This is Dr. Jeremiah Arkham, I am currently at Arkham asylum, there has been a breakout, and two deaths last night. I need the police immediately!" Jeremiah kept his voice reasonably level as he talked, much to his relief. As he talked he entered the elevator and hit the button for the top floor where his office was located.
"I'm sorry Doctor, but all units are currently busy with a very important task. I can send a unit down as soon as possible, but it may be a few hours."
Arkham made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat. What could possibly be going on that every unit in the city was busy?
"Ma'am, do you even remember who our patient is? We only have the one!" His forced calm was beginning to crumble as he snapped at the dispatcher.
There was a slight pause on the other line, and Jeremiah was beginning to think she may not know that the asylum was now only home to the most successful domestic terrorist Gotham had ever seen. However he soon heard the muffled sound of talking in the background over the phone as she spoke hurriedly to the other dispatchers. She spoke to him again, and the level of seriousness in her voice now told the doctor that she did indeed remember the reign of terror the Joker had inflicted on the city.
"We'll try and get a hold of the deputy commissioner Dr. Arkham, and maybe call in some state troopers while we're at it. In the mean time, perhaps you should go home and lock up," she suggested.
He sighed as he reached the hallway that led to his office, still walking at a quick pace, "I'm already home, but don't worry, I'll lock the door," he said wearily.
After confirming he would call if anything new developed, he ended the call, and slipped the cell into his pocket, producing the keys to his office door instead. However, as he grabbed the knob to insert the key he discovered it was already unlocked. Apprehension gripped his insides again, as he knew he had locked the door before going on vacation. Feet firmly rooted in place he stretched out his arm, and slowly pushed the door open, letting it swing in.
The morning sun shone brightly through the large windows in the room. His office was almost completely as he had left it, for one exception. The body of Stephanie Dia hung from a rope over his desk, a red smile painted over her face. Her wrists were tied to a short plank, which held her arms apart so that in death she could hold up the homemade banner reading 'Welcome home Jerry!' in large, dripping red letters.
-0-
Nyssa groaned, and stirred stiffly from oblivion. She lifted her head from her arm where it rested, and a headache immediately stabbed at her skull. She tried to cradle her aching head in her hands, but was impeded when her wrists snapped taunt against restraints with a metallic clinking. Nyssa attempted to open her eyes to investigate but a harsh, artificial light stabbed at her eyes. She clamped her lids shut again, but not before noticing she was in a dark room, and the light came from a television set in front of her.
Now knowing that the painful light source emanated from before her, she turned her head to the side and peered through squinted eyelids into the dark room. 'Always mind your surroundings' was a mantra that had been drilled into her from childhood, and she had not forgotten it even now in her disoriented state. She let her eyes grow used to the darkly shadowed room, the shifting light coming from the T.V. that droned quietly and incoherently to her confused mind and ears the only illumination the room had.
The space was small from what she could tell, and ramshackle. There appeared to be a few dilapidated furnishings in the room, but Nyssa paid little attention to them besides to note their placement, and be sure there were no enemies lurking in their shadows. Finally taking stock that she was alone in the room, she slowly turned her head forward, her eyes now adjusting to the fickle light playing from the television screen. She paid no attention to what it displayed however, and instead focused her attention on her arms, noting her wrists being clad in hand cuffs, and the cuffs themselves being tethered to a ring in the steel table before her with a sturdy padlock.
She found she could stand from the uncomfortable wooden chair she was seated at, as her feet were not similarly restrained. However, the table appeared to be bolted to the floor of the room, and standing was not only awkward tied to the table as she was, but also aggravated her headache. Resuming her seat she concentrated on putting together where she might possibly be. The room had no windows, and the floor looked to be cement, which could indicate she was in a cellar, or basement of some type. However she could hear no sounds from outside, nor was there anything in the room itself to give her any further clue beyond that.
Her headache was finally starting to subside into a dull pain, and with nothing new to learn about her surroundings, she concentrated instead on what she might be doing here. Nyssa fidgeted nervously as she recalled the terrifying image of the Joker in her doorway, and tried to imagine some reasonable explanation as to why he attacked and knocked her out. She searched her memory for any small amount of information she could remember about the terrifying man.
Nyssa had been seventeen when the story of The Joker Attacks hit the news, not only in Gotham, but across much of the US as well. She had just moved to Seattle, and was in the process of applying for university. Being that she had been essentially homeschooled, and in America on a student visa, there was a lot that needed to be done and she was sufficiently distracted enough by this to not pay much more than a glancing interest to a story in the back of the newspaper. Even then the only reason it had caught her attention was because of her adopted family's connection with the city.
Beyond that there was another news article she had watched on television when the Joker was finally apprehended that she remembered a little better. It described the man as being totally deranged, and followed with a long list of psychological problems doctors theorized he had. Nyssa merely remembered thinking the Joker was not a surprising creature to be born of a city so twisted itself.
Now that she was actively thinking about it, there was really nothing more in the press about the Joker after that. Even in Gotham, where his madness had scarred the people here forever, it was as if they were trying to forget about him, expunge the clown and his actions from history. No one mentioned him, and there were no news stories or articles in remembrance of those he killed. Even on Harvey Dent day, a day that could easily be blamed on the Joker's involvement, no one blamed the clown, all the blame was placed squarely on the Batman. The Joker was a dirty secret Gotham had hidden away in the basement fearful of the neighbors seeing.
And now he was loose apparently, and for some random reason had her chained to a table in a basement. Nyssa began to entertain the idea that there was no method to the madness in this. Perhaps she was simply destined to be the next body found in the city dump…
As the depressing idea settled in, the squawking of the T.V. finally caught her attention for more than a glance this time. It appeared the channel was set to the cable news network, GCN, and live footage of the mayor as he entered the VIP entrance of a sports stadium played on the screen. A number of reporters were trying to get quotes from the Mayor about the upcoming football game. One of the reporters shoved a microphone in the mayor's face and shouted over the others.
"Mr. Mayor! We're seeing literally thousands of police heading into the sewers-"
"A training exercise, that's all." The mayor answered without missing a beat.
Other questions were shouted as he put on a yellow and black cap, and disappeared into the stadium entrance. The scene on the television changed to some sort of pregame coverage, but Nyssa had already stopped paying attention. She had known in the back of her mind from the moment she regained awareness that it was likely she'd missed the plane out of Gotham. However the T.V. had confirmed her fears just now. 'Police heading into the sewers…' It was impossible that this wasn't part of Bane's intricate plan.
Soon, very soon, this city would see its true reckoning, and Nyssa would be trapped here with the rest of them. Part of her celebrated in resignation, perhaps she could see her family one more time. Maybe when the time came, she could even be with them. But then she remembered where she was, and realized that not even this wish would be granted to her.
Nyssa laid her head back down on her arms, and let the tears roll over the bridge of her nose, and down her cheek unchecked.
-0-
Jeremiah pulled into his large, elegant driveway, and looked up at his beautiful home. His eyes didn't see the lovely brick and ivy building though, they were too tired, and careworn. After he had called the emergency dispatcher again and reported the third death, he immediately went back downstairs, and to his car. He did not wish to share the company of the dead any longer.
As he stepped from the vehicle, his one happy thought was that his wife was still away on their unfinished vacation. She had planned to leave for home tomorrow, but now Arkham felt he should call her, and tell her to just stay there until he could be sure it was safe here again.
He pulled out his phone, resolved to do just that as he reached his front door. Before he could even dial the first number however, the world began to rumble. Explosions sounded all over the city. Jeremiah's first instinct was to duck into the house for safety. He fumbled with the keys, and unlocked the door hastily, falling into his home as the detonations continued to rock Gotham from seemingly all points around the doctor's estate. Jeremiah could only fleetingly wonder in panic how the Joker could work so quickly.
-0-
Nyssa stared blankly ahead at the television, not really watching as the young boy sang the United States national anthem. She remained lost in thought even at kickoff. It wasn't until the first rumbling explosion sounded in the distance that she snapped out of her indifferent state. She flinched involuntarily at each new reverberation as she hoped the explosions wouldn't knock the building down on top of her.
The loud booming continued for several moments, and as they came to an end she focused shakily on the television set in front of her. Miraculously neither the cable, nor the electricity to the building had been knocked out, and the scene displayed on the screen was of the football stadium field in a smoking wreck. A crater remained where the field had once been.
The cameras zoomed in as several figures marched out into what remained of the ruined stadium turf. Her heart skipped a beat as Nyssa recognized Bane. Even in her tumultuous sate she managed to feel her spirit swell with pride as the masked man picked up the umpires microphone, and called out to the audience, "Gotham! Take control of your city!"
-0-
The Joker piled into the brown station wagon's passenger side seat, hyena-like laughter ripping from his mouth as panicked civilians rushed from the Gotham Rogues stadium. Melvin didn't need to be told to drive as he climbed behind the wheel, he knew they were done here. He took off, the crowd parting before them.
Joker had insisted they come to the stadium to see what would unfold today. Melvin was against the idea, and tried to explain that it could be very dangerous, but the madman seemed entirely unconcerned about their well being. So, the Joker-in some of Melvin's clothing, sans his makeup, and with a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face-and he went to the Rogues game. They sat in the nosebleeds section, and Melvin bought a hot dog.
When all hell broke loose, the boss watched with child-like glee as the football field swallowed up the players of both teams. He started giggling quietly to himself as some people stood to try and run from the stands only to be stopped by men toting guns who stood guard at the exits. The laughter was barely contained throughout Banes speech, and they started receiving worried glares from their neighbors in the stands. When Bane broke the neck of the one man who could disarm the nuclear bomb that was dragged out into the field, the Joker's laughter could no longer be contained. Luckily it was drowned out by the screaming of the crowd. After that Bane had informed the public to basically go home, and hold onto their asses (albeit more eloquently then Melvin could have put it).
As they drove back Melvin took note of the broken condition that some of the streets had been left in from the explosions that had gone off over the entire city. Beside him the Joker had stopped laughing, his sharp, dark eyes now taking in the damage with dangerous amusement.
"Well it looks like our boy Bane was a little less vanilla then we first thought," he mused in excitement. "The man's got flair I'll give him that, but he still made one. Huge. Mistake." The Joker turned to look at Melvin, the grin on his face doing nothing to hide the feral glint in his eyes. "You can't give away something that doesn't belong to you. And Gotham is mine."
-0-
Nyssa awoke groggy, stiff, and thirsty. The room was still empty and dark, and the T.V. still droned in front of her. Judging by the time displayed on the news ticker on screen she could tell she'd now been tied to this table for over twenty-four hours. Irritably she began to wonder if the Joker put her here to let her die of dehydration.
After Bane's display in the football stadium yesterday the news channel had been ablaze with reporters trying to convey all the information they could humanly gather, and occasional announcements from the White House, and even a speech from the President. The devoted reporters promised to keep the people of Gotham informed as much as they could, however it was obvious that eventually there was just no more information to be had. Soon the television started replaying reports and announcements more frequently, and in the end Nyssa lost interest, and had fallen into a fitful sleep for the rest of the night.
Nyssa fidgeted dejectedly with the handcuffs around her wrist, and studied the television to see if any new information could be had. Suddenly the single door to the room burst open with an explosive bang, causing Nyssa to start violently, and a compulsive squeak to leave her mouth before she could stifle it.
"Honey, I'm home!" The shadows of the room cast an inhuman darkness over the Jokers already bizarre features as he entered. Nyssa knew she was staring at him with an expression of mixed anger and fear, but she couldn't look away.
He reached out along the wall and flipped a switch there, flooding the room with dim light from a hanging bulb. Nyssa squinted for a moment, but her eyes adjusted quickly. She studied the clown's form carefully as he stalked forward, shoulders hunched in an odd, uncomfortable looking angle. 'Stand tall and straight or your opponent will easily knock you down' was an adage taught by one of the many instructors she'd had over her young life who attempted to hammer any sort of training into her that would stick. He had been just as unsuccessful as the rest.
The Joker stopped in front of the table, the jarring grin that never quite reached his eyes looked down on her, and he suddenly dropped a plastic bottle of water down before her. She started again, and the creep laughed hysterically.
"A little jumpy aren't we? I haven't even done anything to you. Yet."
Nyssa suppressed a shudder at the emphasis he put on the last word, and resolved to stop wearing her emotions on her sleeves. She tried desperately to center herself, and was reminded of another lesson: never show emotion to an enemy. One could learn everything about their adversary by studying their emotions, and watching the eyes, including what their next movie will be.
Nyssa did not trust herself to be able to study her enemy's eyes in this instance however without unintentionally giving her own thoughts away, so instead she studied the water bottle on the table in front of her.
"Not very talkative either," he added in his oddly pitched voice.
A small bag of potato chips was also tossed onto the table next to the bottled water, and the padlock connecting her handcuffs to the table was unlocked, though the handcuffs remained. Nyssa gratefully drew her cramped arms back to herself, rubbing the stiff muscles of her upper arms. She stared suspiciously at the food and water before her however, unwilling to take it despite her thirst and hunger.
"It's not poisoned," he tried to reassure her in a very un-reassuring tone. The way he dragged out the word 'poisoned' made Nyssa glare up at him briefly before letting her eyes drop back down to her hands.
"Look princess, if I wanted to kill you, poisoning would be my last choice. I prefer the much messier techniques myself." He pulled out a switchblade and twirled it playfully in his fingers for emphasis.
Nyssa watched the knife warily, letting his words sink in. Suddenly death by poisoning wasn't looking so bad. She picked up the water bottle and downed nearly half of it in a flash, then preformed a disappearing trick on the potato chips. Washing them down with the last of the water, she looked back up at him resolutely.
"Good girl," he praised mockingly.
"What am I doing here?" She asked firmly, willing strength into her voice as she glared up at her captor.
"Holy shit, it speaks!" He exclaimed in an overly hammy expression of shock. Nyssa refused to dignify the over exaggeration with a response.
Before the clown could continue however, the television set caught both of their attentions. On screen a reporter out on the streets was briskly moving towards a gathering of people, the camera man running behind him making the screen jump around jarringly until he stopped next to the reporter.
"We are out in front of Blackgate Prison, where a group of military vehicles have come to rest. Sources say the terrorist leader is here."
The camera swung back around to get a better view of the scene in front of the prison, and sure enough three desert cammo painted, tank-like vehicles were coming to rest outside the building. From the lead vehicle, the familiar, hulking form of Bane appeared. Nyssa couldn't help the look of intensity that flashed across her face at that moment, and as the Joker looked back at her pointedly she felt her stomach plummet. He couldn't know of her connection to Bane could he, was this why she was here? And if it was all about Bane, could he also know about Talia?
Swallowing thickly Nyssa forced her face into neutrality as she continued to watch the events unfold, and the Joker turned his attention back to the screen. Bane had climbed atop one of the vehicles, and was now addressing the crowd. As he spoke of the late Harvey Dent, and held up the photo of the once handsome public servant, she heard the Joker issue a low chuckle, as if sharing an inside joke. He seemed completely riveted to the screen as Bane removed the Commissioners speech and read it to the crowd.
Nyssa herself watched with rapt interest as the words revealed the truth about Gotham's 'White Knight' and the crowd began to grow restless, and angry. Could she blame them? Nyssa had studied the Dent act herself. She knew just how borderline Constitution breaking it was. But the people of Gotham had clung to it like a life ring for years. Now that the truth of their would-be hero was revealed they felt duped, and those who had family members and friends inside the prison felt rage.
Bane whipped the crowd into a frenzy, and at the crescendo one of the tanks fired at the wall of the prison. Nyssa could feel this victory for Bane, she knew of his hatred for prisons and jailors. She had no doubt that in the end there would be nothing left of this building.
Slowly Nyssa became aware that the Joker was laughing. And not a quiet chuckle like before, but a great whooping 'WOOO-HAHAHA' as he clutched his middle, and slapped his thigh in mirth. As he finished he stood straight again, and mimed wiping tears from his eyes.
"Now that's what I like to see. All of my hard work bearing fruit in the end," he mused gleefully. "Granted, Mister Congeniality there needs to be informed who laid down the foundations for his little liberation, but, that will come in time."
He fixed Nyssa with another intense stare, a self important smirk playing on his lips. "And that, to answer your question, is where you come in."
-0-
Late that night, as mobs of looters ransacked the city, gunfire and screaming rung in the air, and fires burned, a wraith clad in black moved swiftly, and silently through the shadows. Miranda Tate had told the other board members she would only be going down to investigate, and that she would try to gather some supplies to help them last in the security of the Wayne Corp tower. A few had protested, worried for her safety, however she won in the end by convincing them that she was the most logical choice to go out, being the youngest person present. Her intentions though were not actually information, and supply gathering, she had a meeting to attend.
She made her way to City Hall without incident, as the crazed mob would've had to have seen her before they could intercept her, and was soon in an abandoned office on the top floor. The building was serving as the temporary base for Bane and his liberation. He was not in the dark room yet, but Talia knew he would be here tonight, so she found a deeply shadowed corner and hid. Thankfully She did not have long to wait. Soon the door to the office opened, and Bane entered, careful to close the door behind him. No one could see this meeting tonight, as there was still much at stake.
Once she was sure it was Bane who had entered, Talia stood from her hiding place, and the shift of shadows caught his attention. She crossed the room swiftly, and stood before him, removing the hood of her black sweater. No words were necessary for the moment as they studied each other's gazes, simply drinking in one another's presence.
Bane moved first, lifting his hand and running it through Talia's hair, letting the strands fall through his fingers like water, his steely eyes soft as he beheld her. Soundlessly Talia broke, falling into his embrace, and they stood there for several long minutes, treasuring a moment they may not be able to share again.
Bane ended the silence first, though he did not release her. "Have you established yourself with the other board members?"
"Yes, we are barricaded in the top floors of Wayne Tower," she spoke softly into his chest.
"Is Lucius Fox with the others?" He questioned. They both knew that at this point Fox was the only man who could stabilize the core by reconnecting it to the reactor, and keeping tabs on him was important.
Talia replied in affirmation, and silence reigned for a moment more. Finally she broke the embrace, knowing that their time together must end soon if she were to return without drawing suspicion from the other board members. However there was one more matter that burdened her thoughts, and as she looked up at her protector solemnly, he did not have to ask to know something was not right.
"Nyssa did not get on the jet last night. The pilot called and informed me she never arrived," she spoke softly, worry weighing down her voice. "Has she contacted you?"
Bane slowly shook his head in consternation, "It is not impossible that she left the city in another method, but," he paused his eyes hardening in thought, "it is unlikely."
His words were not spoken harshly, but the effect was still the same on Talia. They both knew the truth, if she had not left the city, then she either stayed by choice, or something prevented her from leaving. And in a city like Gotham, there were many dangers to prevent a person from reaching their destination.
As hard as it was however, Talia could not dwell on it. "If she contacts you, send her to me. I may be able to find a use for her," she said resolutely.
Bane nodded, "I will be watchful for any information of her whereabouts. However," he studied Talia carefully, knowing his words would be blunt, "no matter her circumstance, if she is still in the city, we must concede ourselves to the fact that in the end, her fate will still be the same as ours."
Talia nodded slowly in reluctant acceptance. She knew from the moment the pilot called her, and all the worry she could harbor would not change this fact. The wheels were in motion now, and even though Nyssa was caught up with them, willingly or not, the fire would still rise, nothing would stop that, and this still gave Talia comfort.
Bane hooked a finger under her chin, gently pulling her eyes back to his. She softened, letting the edges of her mouth curl up in a slight smile for him, and reached a hand up to place on the back of his neck, pulling him down so she could plant a small, tender kiss on his forehead, before pulling her hood back up, and leaving the room.