"Alfred?" The shadow atop Wayne Tower spoke softly into his arm-comm as he reprogrammed the city surveillance relay at the tower's peak spire.
"Yes, Master Bruce?" a voice from his arm said, static, a little, from the approaching storm tonight.
"I need all you can tell me about the Hallow." He began to insert codes connected to the floric samples installed from the Batcomputer. With a little luck, the samples he had found at Woodrue's city home… "The police found all of those bodies in a hidden marsh. I need to know if there have been seismic activities detected in the last three months."
"I'll get to scanning," said Alfred on the other end. "I daresay this has been quite a night. Perhaps you would like to come home and take a rest? Please?"
"I'm close on this, Alfred. The floric samples, Siderian triforcemei and the Nyrox seeds… both highly illegal, but more so rare. Traces found in the victims' lungs. And what do we know about both plants, Alfred?"
"That they're grown in highly marshy areas… so you want me to check the seismic activity in the Hallow marshlands, obviously."
"She's already shown us her mutagenics," Batman insisted, saving the data on the terminal just as the first raindrop fell. "We know that she's using mutated plant-life during her raids. The witnesses who survived said they were massive. Elephant sized. If that's the case, then it's a simple matter of detecting earth-based vibrations strong enough to match that scale. Using both the Nyrox and the Siderians, it would make sense for her to be based near one of the Hallow marshlands… but not too close to where the bodies were found. That would be too obvious. She's smart… she won't be anywhere near where she stows her crimes away…"
"And Woodrue?"
"Woodrue will have to be my first target. With the storm coming, we're going to be getting severe interference with the satellites. And we can't base a single seismic incident on one pinpoint, not if there's a root system… Nonetheless I want them."
"Well, you have them…" Alfred's voice turned dark and foreboding. "Everywhere, by the looks of it. According to the computer, there are high amounts of seismic activity all across the southern and northern areas of the Hallow. It's widespread and doesn't seem to have an origin point that's apparent…"
"Record the readings and put them in a new folder," Bruce Wayne said quickly, spinning around and taking flight from the skyscraper top, spreading his wings wide as the rain began to fall more fiercely. The sky was black this evening. As the rain hit him like a storm of bullets, Bruce Wayne closed his eyes and inhaled deeply…
Woodrue…it all falls down to Woodrue… He'll be the key to finding her.
"Master Bruce?" Alfred sounded concerned. "Please come in early. You haven't slept in two days. And you really can't afford to miss a third day of work…"
"Lucius is doing fine. I warned him it might run well into a week, and don't worry…he gave me his personal thoughts, too, but agreed. Let's focus on the real work."
"Whatever you say, I suppose. But I don't much like the idea of you being done in by what essentially boils down to a deranged hippie?"
"Deranged hippie is hardly the term for this woman, Alfred…" He twisted his body right and straightened to a landing atop a pizzeria, which happened to have a mini-garage at its crown. The garage was empty, and he leaned against the wall, planning his next move. "She's not a radical environmentalist whose gone about her political agenda in an extreme way… She's a genuine lunatic. She hates, Alfred. Hates. These kinds of killing, as many as they are and how quickly they're going… this isn't political extremism."
"Too understandable. I took a peak at the file Gordon sent you, from his talks with Dr. Stefan. Don't think of me as misguided, Master Bruce. I know what they did to her, what they took from her… but there is a time when you need to let them die out."
"She's too good at what she does…she won't let herself het caught by the police. Already over sixty people have died. I'm going to track Woodrue down and force her location out of him. He's going to Blackgate and I don't intend for him to ever leave it."
"That man just doesn't exist anymore, Bruce. He's wiped any current living record with his disappearance."
"I know, Alfred…that's why I need you to run a search for me." He actually smiled, despite the whole situation. He had figured it out earlier today, and had to place faith in the plan now. God willing, this will give us information… "I need you to look into no-fly zones within a one-hundred mile radius between Bludhaven and the southern outskirts of Gotham."
"Military?"
"Military and domestic. I need a name search. Woodrue."
"I'll access the Federal Database. Give me a few minutes and I can get some form of confirmation."
"Take your time… I have one last stop to make. I'll check back in within half an hour. There's someone who may be able to shed some light on the matter."
"Who is that, sir?"
Bruce clenched a fist. "She sold him those canisters, didn't she?" He began to approach the edge of the building. On the other end, he heard Alfred tut in disbelief.
"Master Bruce, you can't be serious…"
"I am. They had something going on between them…either them or them and a third party. But she had a connection, Alfred, and he was buying off of her. I'm going to ask him all about that."
"And what makes you think that the Joker will want to help you in an investigation of this nature, Master Bruce?"
From beneath his cowl, Bruce smiled. "Because I have a wonderful joke to tell him…"
The joke had been on her…
When she awoke, she awoke nude as the day she had entered the world, but in fifteen times worst of a shape… and she had been a premature by two months. Strands of ivy engulfed her limbs…dirt covered from her hair to soles… scars and bites from insects littered her body, dry blood saturated her face, and her eyes were stinging…
Weakly, almost impossibly, Pamela climbed to her feet, almost falling right back down as her vision threatened to distort the reality around her.
She was in the middle of a forest. She recognized it to be the Hallow. These marshlands were all too familiar…her secret spot, where she liked to escape the rest of the world, was close to this lonely dirt road, in which she awoken within a ditch on its side.
Her head was pounding. Her breath was ragged. Looking around wildly, Pamela tried to make sense of what was happening. Why was she naked, and why had she awoken in the middle of the woods, alone…abandoned…? She tried to recollect her thoughts, her memories… All was but a passing blur, an illusion of knowability. There was nothingness in recollection, no tender thought to harness her safely into revising the past from a night before, for it was clearly mid-morning, the birds still singing their sonata of awakening, the light still blush-worthy as it prepared its entry stage right.
What happened…? What happened last night…? I don't… even remember…
Not for the life of her. Not for the continuation of her existence could she remember what has transpired the night before. Dumbly, painfully, she desperately searched around for her clothing, kicking aside piles of leaves and brush… but however she had come to be in this forest and its ditch, her cloths had not come with her. What in the hell happened to me?
Painfully, as each step twanged battered limbs, frail from the ditch and its cutteries that had mauled her, she limped forward, staggering down the road. She had walked this road a few times during the last six months, and knew a good part of the Hallow decently enough. However, fearing that someone would come down the road at any moment in a truck or a car, she wanted to hide her nudity, and thus dived into the thick brush of shrubs and ivy growing in clumps about the oaks and willows. It was clumsy work, fashioning together clumps large of what she identified was poison ivy to cover that which she did not want seen (she had no fear, of course, being part of the 15% within the United States who had a natural immunity to the oils). Wishing she could see herself, she moved as quickly as she could, the clumps of poison ivy dancing about over her body as she moved as quickly as her aching legs would allow.
How did I get here? Was I drunk? Did I drink and go off on a wild exploration!?
No, she could not have. She had planned it from the moment that Alissa Jagner had come knocking at her dormitory door, begging her to come to the party, because, 'It's going to be a blast, we're gonna get hammered hard!' Alissa was always one for less than orthodox indulgences, a true night owl with a thirst for experience. Pamela had, at the time, considered turning the offer down, and had at first voiced concerns that late-night partying would lead to extra hours of studying to maintain her level as the most aspiring and participant student in her biological sciences seminars. Dr. Corbett was depending upon her to keep the other students encouraged with her excessive contribution to class discussion…
But no, she had given in. Why was Alissa so hard to get rid of? She seemed to be drawn to Pamela in an annoyingly…welcome sort of way. She had friends. Many friends. She was a talented intramural Vary with the body of a college goddess and the sex drive to match it… in addition, her intellectual abilities were quite…unexpected. Psychology was hardly a field for the typical dumbass, and Alissa was no dumbass… Nevertheless, she never acted like the professional…was the word "kissass?" Despite her unprofessional output and the fact that half the time Pamela was around her, she smelled terrible… Alissa was genuinely a good friend to her. Pamela had always been a bitch to the woman with a means or cause… but Alissa was always right there, coming back to join her friend without a care in the world.
She really will make a fine psychologist, someday…
Alissa had been her ride… and she was nowhere to be seen. So two possibilities came to Pamela's mind: either Alissa had gotten so hammered that even now she was probably still passed out at Lee's house, or… Pamela herself had been the one to get that way, and Alissa was probably terrified out of her mind that the woman she had given a ride for was invalid in presence and status.
Ten minutes passed by, each step growing the distant towers of Gotham more and more. She could see the campus perimeter from the hill upon which she descended, but nary a vehicle came her way. Judging by the sun, it must be at least eleven in the morning… but today was also a Sunday, and students would not be returning for the new week until evening time… This meant that she had an open window, right now, to possibly cross campus, nude and clad in poison ivy, all the way to Hamrak Hall where Alissa lived without being spotted… but the odds of that were very slim. At least fifty percent of the student body lived on campus, and at least thirty or somewhat percent of that had no one to go home to for the weekends…
And even so, campus police set up those cameras all around the grounds… Holy Mother Earth, I'm going to be arrested…
But maybe that would be a good thing. If she were arrested, she could explain to the police what had happened. Even if she were slapped with a fine for public indecency (despite going out of her way to cover herself with what the forest had provided), she would at least be given some decent clothes and could be checked out for internal damage…
Not that these clothes are bad or anything… as a matter of fact, if I had it my way, we would all dress like this… and I would eternally drape myself in poison ivy. It's quite fetching on my body…
Past the biology grounds and the flourishing greenhouse where she spent most of her college existence, she tried her best to keep to the shadows of the trees, as she was well within sight from the windows of Napier Hall and Wayne Hall, both situated alongside one another on the western hilltops near the occupational safety and health institutes.
Hamrak Hall was situated a little ways past biological sciences, going away from Napier and Wayne, not too far from Morris Hall. Seeing the red-brick foundation, she took a chance and sprinted across the green lawn, forcing herself not to scream from the pain that endured upon her as she ran. Halfway across the lawn of biology, however, she succumbed to the pain and tripped forward, rolling into a quagmire that she had not seen coming. The mud and algae was a terrible ordeal, but she could not afford to be discovered here. Dripping and cursing at the bog-like lawn, she forced herself up and climbed a small hill that led up to a concrete path, connecting a wide, red bridge between the biology grounds and the rest of campus (though the bridge was not essential to traverse the two, as everything was just a downhill and uphill hike without it).
She would have gotten further than this too, without being detected, but as fate would have it, that was the moment that the maintenance woman, Candy Sathers, happened to be driving on by on her campus appointed golf cart. The large woman stopped her cart, and Pamela stopped her journey. Both stared each other down, one face shocked, the other utterly humiliated…
Before any words could be said, Pamela burst into fierce tears and took off, howling in both pain and embarrassment as Sathers stared, dumbstruck, after the howling woman. Angry, terrified, Pamela looked over her shoulder and she ran and saw Sathers talking on a handheld transceiver, casting nervous looks in Pamela's direction.
She did not stop running until she reached number five of Hamrak Hall, a series of singular floored, connected apartments owned by the campus. Banging desperately on number five, she sobbed hysterically against the redwood, begging Alissa to open the door. All around her, people were sprinting across campus, coming out of dormitories and classroom buildings to get better looks at this naked, ivy-clad woman. Doors were opening on either side. Heads were poking out.
Oh, Mother Earth, no…nononononononononononononononononononono…"
"ALISSA!?" she screamed hysterically. "ALISSA!"
The door yanked open, and before anyone could approach her, Pamela fell forward, falling into Alissa, who toppled down onto the floor in a tangled mess of flesh and ivy. Both of them let out a yelp as they hit the soft, red carpet, and Pamela quickly twisted her body, kicking with as much force as she could muster against the door, just as the next door neighbors were peering into the frame.
Alissa managed to disentangle herself from Pamela's forestry wear, and crawled away slowly, wide-eyed in her own shock at Pamela's sobbing, hysterical state. Pamela looked around at her friend, her face saturated in tears…
"Alissa?" she breathed, quivering uncontrollably. Alissa, who was draped in naught but two single towels, quickly sprinted forward and removed them, attacking Pamela at once as she began a fierce battle against the mud, grime and filth that Pamela had become victim to. She pulled away the strands of ivy, not caring or knowing that she would probably get a bad reaction for touching them, and as she cleaned her hysterical, sobbing friend, she hissed urgently, "Pamela, what the hell happened to you!?"
"W-w-where w-were y-you!?" Pamela cried against the carpet, clawing at the fabric madly. "W-w-where were you, A-Alissa!?"
"Where was I?"
"L-last night… tell me w-what happened…"
Alissa sat back, looking shocked at being asked such a question.
"What happened!? Pam, what are you talking about? You left the party, didn't you?"
"What do you mean I left the party!?" Pamela demanded, flinging herself forward and grabbing Alissa by the shoulder blades. Alissa, terrified, tried to pull away but was not strong enough to break free of her grip… Pamela's face was strained and fierce.
"You were…tipsy. They said you were tipsy… and they said they were taking you back to their farm, that you were wanting to see their horses. Rock said you and him were together."
Rock… Rock, Rock, Rock…
"Rock?" Pamela whispered. Something about that name stung her… and made her feel…was it sickness? "Who is Rock?"
"Otto Rock. He's in psychology, with me. He and a few of his friends were at the party last night and he said you and him had sucked up. You were going back to his place, mumbling something about "fun under the stars…"
"I spoke to you…?"
"A little. You were really wasted, Pam… You couldn't even hold your head up right. Everything came out as near-gibberish and you were drooling a lot. Otto promised to get you home safely and told me I didn't have to worry about you… I thought that-"
"You thought?" Pamela whispered, falling back now and releasing her. She stared forward, her mind suddenly shifting… straining to remember…
Rock, Rock, Rock, Rock…
Why did that name terrify her!? Why the hell did that name make her want to hide!? WHY!?
"Alissa… I think… I think I didn't want to… I think…"
"Pam?" Alissa looked really scared now. Pamela gripped her head tightly and rocked back and forth.
"I don't know what I'm trying to say," she hissed. "But… I feel… I don't feel…"
Rock, Rock, Rock, Rock, ROCK ROCK ROCK ROCK ROCK ROCK ROCK ROCK ROCK…
"You and Rock…didn't hook up?" Alissa suggested quietly.
"This morning," Pamela breathed, "I woke up, naked, lying in a ditch in the middle of the woods…" She looked at Alissa in disbelief. "In the middle of the woods!"
"Why?"
"I don't know why!" Pamela bitched, unnecessarily flipping Alissa off. He hands were shaking madly. "I don't know why, Alissa, I don't know why!"
RockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRock RockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRock RockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRockRock
RockRockRockRockRockRockRockRock….
Donovan.
"What!?" she whispered aloud, looking around her in the dimness. Alissa shook her head, looking freaked.
"What what?"
"I… Donovan…"
"Donovan?" Alissa repeated, puzzled. "Yeah, he was there…" Pamela's eyes widened. Alissa, biting her lip, said, "Donovan Ventimago. Tennis player. Broadcasting major."
"He…went with me and…Rock?"
"Yeah, he and Archibald Helan. 'Archie,' for short."
"Archibald…" Pamela whispered to herself. She closed her eyes, and strained her mind.
What happened? What happened!?
A flash… of something. Something blurred, distorted from the rest of reality. Flesh-colored, and bulky… above her… descending… and pain! Pain unfamiliar… Down there… where there ought not to be pain like that…
She looked down, automatically, at her pelvic region, feeling a cold, cold feeling…
You know, don't you? the voice deep within her asked. You just don't want to admit to it…
"Admit…to…what?"
Alissa frowned deeply. "Pamela?"
"Admit to what, admit to what!?" she repeated to herself, over and over, scratching at her red curls firmly. "What am I admitting to!?"
"Did…did Rock do something to you, Pamela?" Alissa hissed, looking terrified at the possible answers that would be given to her.
"I..no..I…he can't..could not…could…" Pamela's word were the definition of nonsense. Broken and jittery, like a damaged radio filled with static.
What did they do to me!?
The image in her mind was becoming clearer. The fleshy blur solidified and became more apparent… it was definitely a body. A muscular body. On top of…her.
Oh Mother Earth… oh no…
That pain, in her pelvic region? Like a destructive pain. Barriers broken down that had never been broke before… Violations against her will. Pamela fell forward, unable to hold herself up… her body was shaking madly…
Flashes kept coming to her, becoming clearer and clearer by the passing of each second. A bottle… of powerful, strong, lime-like drink… Being forcibly tossed into the bed of a truck… Cold, frigid feeling against bumping metal… Cobblestone underfoot… Up the stairs… Through the door… Onto the bed…
And then they…
Filmed it… camera…
Plant… asked me to… plant… seed…sex…camera…Donovan…Archie…Rock…
Rock….Rock…Rock…
Rape…
She turned her head, slowly, as the final piece of memory returned to her. Everything connected together, and ambiguity had no place. Not anymore. She could not move. She could barely breath. One after another, they had climbed on top of her and raped her. One…after…another… and each time, they changed out the handheld camcorder… Each time, they called for re-takes and positioning… All the while, she lay there, incapacitated beyond the ability to resist… unable to fight back… unable to make sense of what was happening to her… s
Rock…took me…and…and…
"Raped me…" Pamela breathed. Alissa gasped. "Drugged me…at the party…called it 'Sunshine…' and took me…to his farm…and then, all three….raped me…recorded it… laughed… and then made me… made me…" She began to sob again, as the memory of the houseplant came back to her… as the memory of their suggestions came back to her… Fuck the plant! Come on, fuck the plant! Fuck it nice… Smile for the camera, Pamela! Had she? Had she…smiled…for the camera?
Alissa was standing now. She was running across the room, and had snatched up her cellular. Pamela could hear the electronic buttons typing away at fast speed, and she could feel the anger rage in every breath that Alissa took… and at the same time, she could hear another sound. A police siren, outside of the apartment. It sounded a little distant.
"Yes! Hello, this is Alissa Jagner, psychology student on campus. I need you to contact the GCPD, this is urgent. I'm sitting here with a friend of mine…she's been raped, and she has names. Please, call the GCPD… no…. no, what the hell are you talking about!? No..ye-no! Yes, I am being serious-"
The police siren was getting closer and closer. It had become very loud now. Through the dimly shaded window, Pamela could see blue and red flashing.
"-I… listen, shut the fuck up and listen! We've had a rape! A real rape, okay. Yes… her name… Pamela Isley-"
Shutting door. Footsteps on the gravel, joined with several loud voices outside. All the while, Pamela sat stock still, staring at the wall relentlessly…clawing at the floor relentlessly…
Raped me… raped me… took me and raped me and made me…made me do things… made me do things….!
Knock, knock…and one could suppose, another knock more.
In honor of You
Bad men wear white robes and smile
Jingling bribes in full
Alissa, who was still arguing with campus police, saw the flashing lights and, exhaling hard, threw the phone aside and pulled open the door. Officer Keith Patterson (according to his identification) nodded at Alissa, and, eyeballing over her shoulder, noted the still slightly filthy Pamela, catatonic upon the floor, ivy spread all over the place. Only vaguely (needing to maintain professionalism) did he acknowledge with his eyes that Alissa Jagner had answered the door completely nude. From behind him, people were wolf-whistling and craning to get better looks, while others were fiddling around with their phones…
"That was fast?" Alissa seemed to almost ask, wide-eyed. Officer Patterson shook his head.
"I'm here for your friend, actually. Seems like this whole house is nothing but a bunch of indecent exposers. You call campus police?"
"Yes, I just got off the phone and they wouldn't listen to me. They said I was making stuff up."
"Well, I just got a call in from a maintenance worker and a few students on campus who say that that one there was running nude across the durn place. And now we got you answering the door in yer birthday suit. Damn it, woman… So, then, here is our little felon." He nodded firmly at Pamela, who seemed to be lost in something beyond contemporary reality. Alissa nodded, her lip trembling.
"Yes. She told me everything. Officer, last night she was drugged by three men at a party that we were attending. They took her back to one of their homes and raped her. Please, we have to call the GCPD now!"
"Now just hold on one minute," Patterson said calmly, holding up his jazz hands. He shook his head, his eyes filled with disbelief. "Now who exactly did this? That come from her mouth, did it?" He nodded at Pamela again. "You know she has a history, right?"
"Excuse me, she's not making this up!" Alissa spluttered, her face turning savage. "She's not making this up at all! I know the three who did it. Otto Rock, Donovan Ventimago, and Archibald Helan-"
"Again," Patterson said, more firmly as he cut across her, "do you realize that this woman has a history of lying, assault and-"
"Who the fuck are you that you're not listening to me!?" Alissa almost screamed in the man's face. Patterson shook his head.
"Now, now, I don't want to have to arrest you, too… why don't you…come on, let me see her… Go put some britches on before I have to take you in with her." He pushed his way past her, shoving her to the side, firmly against the door. Alissa looked around in shock at the officer, who stood before the absent Pamela and said, "Up. You are under arrest for indecent exposure in the public. I'd like for you to come with me and we'll get you-"
"Who the hell do you think you are!?" Alissa exclaimed, slamming the door and grabbing a pink bathrobe from her couch. "I'm trying to tell you that she was drugged and raped. They left her in the woods, damn it! They left her in a ditch!"
But Patterson was pulling Pamela forcibly upright, who went with it without the slightest defiance: she was gone. Unavailable. Please leave a message…
"You're Alissa Jagner, correct?" Patterson asked her as he linked handcuffs across Pamela's wrists, whose head had fallen at her side. Her eyes were twitching.
"Yes! And take those off of her, she hasn't done anything wrong!"
"I need to borrow this." He yanked a blanket from her bed and draped it around Pamela's body, and promptly began to march Pamela to the door. Alissa followed after, demanding that he release his hostage.
"She was raped! She was raped!"
"Quiet," Patterson snapped, forcing her out the door, to a barrage of camera phones and whoopings from every direction. Torrents of laughter. Pamela was forced into the back of his black SUV and shielded all too slowly from the large crowd that had built up around the apartment complex. Alissa was running at the officer, shouting at him for reason… until one malevolent spectator, a dark-skinned woman in red, leapt forward and yanked Alissa's loose-hanging bathrobe down. Everyone's cameras went back up at once as Alissa Jagner was suddenly exposed within the middle of the large crowd, utterly horrified as she struggled to cover herself. Officer Jackass, meanwhile, was smiling softly as he climbed into the SUV, ignoring the scene taking place outside of the tinted windows as he drove away. Down the hill from the apartment complex and across central campus, to the far north side where the campus police station awaited.
"Don't worry, Pamela," Patterson told her calmly. "You'll get used to it. That' just the way things work in Gotham…aint it?"
Pamela said nothing. Was unable to say anything… had lost the ability to form words…
What were words?
What was… a what?
What…?
Wha…
Wh…..
W…..
…
"You must stop dropping in late like this," Quincy Sharp berated Bruce, as he and the Dark Knight walked down the long, dark hall of Intensive Isolation 3B. Security cameras dotted the metallic walls every ten feet. Motion sensors analyzed their every move. A host of security stood at the ready on either side. Ahead, a massive bulkhead awaited, which read ISOLATION 17AA9CH3- CAUTION: HIGHLY DANGEROUS INCARCERATION APPLICATIONS INVOLVING DEADLY FORCE PAST THIS POINT. In an office above, Chief of Security Aaron Cash activated the bulkhead, and said into an intercom, "I'm giving you fifteen minutes. Then I come in to check."
"An hour, Sharp," growled Bruce firmly, as the massive steel doors began to scrape across the floor, slowly, allowing them to see the dark elevator shaft within. Sharp sighed.
"Give him sixty minutes, and that is all he gets," he called to Cash. "And we're going to be listening in."
"Do what you want," said Bruce, stepping into the darkness and onto the awaiting, grated elevator. The doors closed behind him, and immediately the elevator plunged down, down, down into the black depths, cold and forgotten down here. At the bottom, Security Coordination Assistant Jeffery Blackwood awaited him, waving cheerfully at the Batman as he stepped off into the dark chamber, where many, many windowless cell doors aligned the walls.
Bruce stepped carefully, noting the electrical pacification panels that made up the floor. Any of his highly volatile gadgetry could easily set the pacification defenses off, and he would be tasting 50,000 volts. "Come on, Batman!" the youthful man said cheerfully, looking beyond excited to be on a mission with the Dark Knight himself. "The clown's down this way. We have him in Special Interrogation. Five tons of 20 by 20 enclosure, all reinforced, bulletproof glass, suspended over a one-hundred foot chasm. Gotta take a special lift down into it."
"How is he? Tell me about his mood."
Blackwood shivered. "When we told him that you were coming for a visit, he got really excited, really fast. Said he'd celebrate by raping my three year old daughter and cannibalizing her face while he did it… Hell, Batman, I never even told him I had a daughter, or that she was three…or her name… or the scar she has on her right ankle… I don't know how he does it, but he gets in your mind. Knows everything there is to know about you. But he doesn't scare me. He aint getting out."
"He just wants to unnerve you. It's his way of passing the time," Bruce assured the man. He clenched his fist. "That the lift?" A glass elevator awaited them down a flight of steps to the right. Blackwood nodded.
"Just press the red button once inside. I don't want to look at him."
"I can take it from here." Bruce took to the steps and approached the glass elevator, connected by a rail line that descended down into exactly what Blackwood had described. The massive, encased, hanging interrogation room was new to him, a recent addition that truly made it seem as if he had entered another world. As he entered the elevator, he could see through the one-way glass that the Joker was already seated at a well-cushioned couch, chained to steel poles that rendered movement almost impossible. Across from this couch, a comfortable looking armchair. As the elevator descended, he saw the Joker look up, right in his direction, with that terrible, beaming smile plastered across his snow-white face and crimson lips. Even though the elevator made no sound, and the glass from within that room rendered visibility to the outside impossible, he still knew that Bruce was coming…
At least with Blackwood left behind, I can handle this in my own way.
The Joker beamed at him as he entered the enclosure. Bruce inhaled deeply, and let it flow slowly.
"Evening," he offered calmly.
"Darling…where've you been?" the Joker whispered passionately. "You've left old Merriweather alone for quite some time…" Was that some form of Western parody, that accent? "Hee heh…" It suddenly shifted to John Wayne. "Why not come and sit on my lap, partner, you cocky son of a bitch, and I'll give you the old Rooster Cock-a-Doodle-Doo!" He burst into a fit of nonsensical giggles, and shook wildly against his restraints as Bruce approached.
"I need you to listen…and talk when I tell you to talk," he warned the Joker in a dark, firm, and divine authoritarian voice. "Do you understand?"
"Oh, Bats… Bats, Bats, Bats…" the Joker whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head. "You know it impossible for me to please the mammalian commands without bloodshed, a cup of English tea and dinner with a show at the Iceberg. Come now, try again. What do you want from me, Bats?"
Bruce took a seat at the chair, and faced the smiling lunatic calmly.
"Pamela Isley."
The Joker gasped excitedly, bobbing his head left and right. "P-p-p-p-p-Pamela? Isley? Pamela, and then Isley? Or, Isley, and then Pamela? Who knows?" He shrugged, as if he did. "Poison Ivy seems more professional, Bats."
"Poison Ivy?"
"Why, yes! Called herself that, a few times, during the transactions that I just know you're dying to talk to me about… just like that poor employee of mine who tried to put the moves on our dear, beloved redhead of interest. Gave him a kiss we'll never forget... But between just you and me, Bats…" He leaned forward, as much as his restraints could allow. "She's crazy…"
"You were buying from Isley recently. Buying canisters loaded with powerful plant toxins. You used them in your last heist at the Gotham Second, when I caught you. Fifteen bank employees dead, with mutated plant life growing out of their bodies… We've linked the canisters found at your hold-up to files we discovered in the home of Jason Woodrue. What I want to know is where you were conducting business, and what you know about Jason Woodrue."
The Joker grinned. "Oh, Bats… chess, is it? Very well. Dark Knight to Bishop. And by Bishop, I mean Kalvin Bishop."
Bruce frowned. Kalvin Bishop?
"He never went by Woodrue… not in the early deals, where he was involved. Kalvin Bishop, he liked that name… and we liked him. But then he vanishes one day, and instead, she becomes the new supplier of 'Ivy's Eden Remnants…' Truly, the woman had no creativity in the naming."
"Tell me about Woodrue."
"Oh, I'll tell you all about him, Bats… but first, you have to give me something in return."
"And what would that be?"
The Joker grinned widely. "I want you…to be my best friend…forever."