"We need to find a map to the island. It's been years since I've been here and I don't wanna stumble into a big shitshow." Jason said, the two exiled heroes running through the asylum hallways as alarms blared in the background, the familiar Arkham chime ringing on the loudspeaker.
"Attention. Facility riot in sectors 5, 3 and 7. Guards are given permission to shoot."
Dick scowled. "God, this place is creepy. I can't believe they still have that eerie music."
"This place is cursed." Jason muttered to himself. "But we need to focus." He came across an abandoned terminal with idling computers, typing until a window with camera feeds flitted onto the screen. Videos of prisoners charging down staircases and being fired upon in masses by heavily armed guards, even mowing down the docile patients who avoided rioting.
"This isn't a riot. This is a massacre. The cells are being opened by an administrator!" Dick growled.
"Think about it, Dicky. Same day Gordon's impeached, same day vigilantes in Gotham are convicted. This is an inside job and, if I'm right," he continued, sighing. "Then they brought us here to kill us all and cover it up as a prison-wide riot."
"I'm starting to believe you. But how can all the good power in Gotham suddenly disappear overnight? What happened?" Dick questioned, anxious.
"Maybe it has something to do with that Azrael guy killing people in a bat costume. Maybe it's a government panicking. Maybe every normal person in the world just realized how much control that boy in blue tights could have with a whole league of super freaks." Jason chuckled.
"I don't know how you even know about the justice protocol, but that hasn't been necessary yet, we have an easy enough time saving ourselves." Dick countered. "But we need to hurry. Fuck."
Dick reached for a portable radio, popping open the back circuit and reaching in his thin belt, pulling out a small chip and plugging it into a port in the back cartridge.
"Oracle. It's Nightwing. Authorize code 'Thomas'." He waited tensely, listening to the static.
"Thank god you're alive." Barbara's worried voice rang out. "No ones responding, I can't get through to Tim either."
"Me and Jason escaped. We're inside the facility now, but we haven't seen Tim. Did they take him?" Dick asked, his fists clenching.
"One second I had a feed of him gliding over Central, then just dead air. Please look for him." Oracle pleaded. Jason grabbed the radio.
"Did they take him?" He asked simply.
"...Azrael's still responding. Right now he's infiltrating a Penguin meetup. He killed Edward Nigma, Dick. I don't think bringing him into this would help."
"Batmans the only thing anybody in Gotham's still afraid of. You want to see your fucking boyfriend? Call him." Jason interrupted, walking off.
"Sorry about him. Keep in contact. Don't ask him yet." Dick stuffed the radio in his pocket, running off after Jason. The two walked out of the back exit of the Penitentiary, large metallic doors sliding open and cool air seeping into the room.
"Don't move, asshole!" Officers shouted, at the bottom of the stairs positioned with pistols and assault rifles. Jason and Dick looked at each other briefly.
"Eight. Three machine guns. Five revolvers. What are you thinking, Rich?" Jason asked casually.