Goddess: Descention
Book One: Asylum
Part Two: Escape
Unnamed
Safe upon the solid rock the ugly houses stand:
Come and see my shining palace built upon the sand!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
(1892-1950)
Gotham City
Arkham Island squats like a malignant toad in the middle of the dark oily pond that is Gotham Bay, but it hasn't always been so… Ages before human habitation, fresh water from a then unnamed and unobstructed river mixed and eddied with the saltwater of the ocean which supplied the area with nutrients making the small bay an estuary; a place teeming with life. This meeting of waters also left deposits of sediment that were trapped by a jagged granite outcropping near the river's mouth and over a time measured in millennia, an islet was born.
When the abundance of the New World was discovered it was at first cultivated and soon abused. What took millennia to grow has only taken a century to destroy. Now the pollution of a rapidly growing mega-metropolis has irreparably poisoned the small bay. The island within however, is continually fortified by the constant supply of sediment from the Gotham River, but eaten away by the relentless current and the bite of polluted seawater that eddy around it… Thus Arkham Island grows and decays simultaneously.
Once, not so long ago, the islet was a city within a city. A low-income housing district complete with schools, businesses, a municipal train station and a port for the Gotham Ferry Line grew next to the Arkham Estate-turned Asylum and all was well. Then Arkham expanded, it became a prison that housed the worst of the worst of humanity. It swallowed up the land around itself to accommodate it's own growing degenerate population. Soon the shops and schools shut down as displaced and frightened citizens left for the mainland. Property value on the island dropped dramatically while Arkham continued to grow. After a time the trains and the ferries stopped going to the island altogether. The few citizens that remained and couldn't afford to move relocated to the island's west side and created a slum of desperation and despair.
Just when it seemed life on Arkham island couldn't get any worse the earthquake struck. Gotham was never considered a hot-spot for seismic activity; no one expected it and no one was prepared for it. Certainly not the builders of the skyscrapers or the condos, the homes and schools, and the hospitals… But it wasn't only that the building codes were not strict enough, it was that the building inspectors got rich looking the other way. So when the temblor rolled through the city it caused billions in damages affecting every structure in the city and cost an invaluable loss of life. Homes were said to fold in on themselves, apartment buildings collapsed, gas leaks and fires raged across the whole of Gotham but nowhere was hit in the city worse than the island. The Arkham prison facility was dreadfully damaged and the inmates were quick to use the confusion and devastation to their advantage. On top of the desolation of the earthquake and the looting and desperate violence that followed, Gotham also suffered the consequences of the mass escape of many of Arkham's most dangerous and deranged prisoners. It was a dark time for Batman and his city, but they both endured, scarred to be sure, but a handful of years later, both still survive.
Though the entirety of the island belongs to the prison facility now, the areas beyond the walled-off section of the prison proper are a labyrinth of shanty-towns and quake-damaged buildings that precariously stand to provide dangerous shelters for the homeless and dysfunctional of Gotham's underground population. It is a no-man's land with little infrastructure and no authority. There is no police presence there because, as it is a prison, it is considered State property and the guards of the Arkham correctional facility rarely venture out from behind the safety of the prison walls. Once in a while however, the city bureaucrats make a show of cleaning up the island - usually during an election year. They coordinate the GCPD and Arkham internal security and patrol the island in force. But like vermin under a spotlight, the itinerate inhabitants of the island scatter and hide. Only the slowest, dimmest and most damaged are caught; a frighteningly small number of the island's actual population. Nevertheless the effort is always considered a magnificent success.
Although closed off to the general public the Arkham Maximum Security Correctional Facility and Asylum for the Criminally Insane is a busy place. It houses a who's who list of the most infamous and nefarious criminal minds in the country, possibly the world. In a state without the death penalty the sociopaths walled inside the asylum claim sanctuary from a death sentence many believe they richly deserve. Inside the walls of Arkham they are analyzed, scrutinized and studied by psychiatrists, psychologists and sociologists from every corner of the globe. Only Gotham City could boast such a demented tourist attraction. Between examinations and therapy sessions these evil human caricatures and demented minds have nothing to do but think and the one thing these varied psychopaths have in common besides incarceration is… they all think of escape and sometimes, against all odds, they succeed.
No one knows how the riot began this time, the area was still too chaotic to sort out. The police band and the satellite relays showed the disturbance seemed to be isolated in Arkham's east-wing, near the medical facility. Staff were being evacuated and lock-down had occurred in all parts of the prison. Alfred, who had been diligently watching the events unfold from the safety of the Cave, reported that all other areas were secured.
Upon hearing that Batman sighed in relief: If that was true then Dent, Nigma, Jones and Joker among others were still confined and would stay that way, hopefully. But it wasn't all good news.
That part of the prison housed some of the least controllable of the inmates; close to medical because they frequently hurt each other and themselves. Batman knew that in one of the sub-basements there was an isolation ward. Actually there were several such wards spread out in the facility. A careful nudge by Bruce Wayne who has a seat on the board of directors made it so. Isolation wards held the more extravagant of Arkham's population and separated them. Many of these particular inmates had money, connections and loyal followers on the outside. This made escape attempts and riots not uncommon. Spreading these special inmates around the prison reduced the chance of them breaking out the other 'specials', as some of the Arkham staff called them, just to add confusion and to cover their own escapes… It's happened before.
This particular ward held the infamous Dr. Jonathan Crane, a.k.a. The Scarecrow. Obsessed with all things pertaining to fear, the doctor once oversaw Arkham Asylum but he abused his power. He let his obsession take control and began using the patients under his care as human guinea pigs for his cruel and twisted experiments. Now ironically, he was an inmate in his own asylum.
Batman stood on the mainland, on the top floor of an unfinished condo complex surrounded by iron girders rusting in the salty air. This building, on the shore of Gotham Bay, rose from the ashes of an older fire ravaged apartment block. Work on the project slowed down then stopped completely; no one was buying into the new property. Batman supposed no one wanted a view of the Bay that included the loathsome rock that was Arkham Island in the middle of it. No one that is, except him.
The view was perfect for surveying the northeast side of the island. As he scanned the area he listened to Alfred's calm voice as he informed him of the details of this latest crisis. The island's only open land line, the bridge, glowed with red and blue flashing lights as emergency vehicles trickled in through the gates. Above the island police helicopters circled and shined their spotlights on the chaos below. He saw the compound, surrounded by the many buildings or wings of the prison, fill with armed Arkham guards and Gotham police. He observed the specially trained riot squad move into position to advance on the easternmost wing. Inside the building he saw smoke rising in the night, sooty grey against the black sky and an occasional orange flame licked up from one of the few barred windows. Around the prison proper and slightly taller than the tallest of it's buildings, were the walls of the Arkham Correctional Facility. Made of cement, several feet thick at it's base and topped with electrified razor-wire, the walls enclosed the prison in an unyielding and unassailable embrace. Or so it would seem…
Every structure is only as strong as it's foundations, and Arkham Island was rotting. Eroded by the sea and damaged by the earthquake the granite that supports the prison was riddled with micro-fractures. These cracks allowed the erosive salt in water and air to leach in and corrode the structure from the inside. Disintegrating mortar, rusting conduits, crumbling cement and neglect all served to provide holes for those desperate enough to slip through and in Arkham, every inmate was desperate enough.
Inside the walls the numerous guards and police seemed to have things contained and Batman's presence would only confuse and add more chaos to the situation. No, he would do more good elsewhere. Batman was certain this riot was only a cover for an escape. He scanned the outside of the prison walls. Set high on the rocky cliffs on this side of the island, it was unfeasible for a prisoner to attempt an escape over the walls. Climbing them without equipment is next to impossible not to mention extremely visible but there were other ways to get past a wall… Then he saw it; at the base of the cliff, something orange appeared at the shoreline among the jagged rocks at the base of the cliff that was the eastern side of the island. It was there one second and gone the next. Orange, an orange Arkham prison uniform. As with all vermin, if you see one, chances were there were others around.
Batman was airborne a moment later, cape extended, the fabric electrically locked in the glider configuration, he caught a thermal and coasted over the bay. The submersible was on it's way, directed remotely by Alfred, then at Batman's signal Alfred transferred it's controls to him. The small one-man submarine was based on a design by two brilliant Korean engineers whose genius Wayne Tech was quick to tap. Able to traverse both over and under water at high speed, the small oval submersible gave Batman a unique advantage in his coastal city. He guided the sub to a mid-point between the east side of the prison and his own trajectory then halted it's progress as he glided down toward it. Horizontal, scalloped fins or wings that retracted when the vehicle was submerged steadied the craft on the water's surface. From above the craft looked like a glossy black bat floating on the water. Batman landed on the smooth, gently rocking hull and once inside the craft's cockpit, he set a course for the island's shore.
Nearing the island was tricky, sharp submerged rocks could rip open the hull of even the smallest light-weight craft. Batman noticed the Harbor Patrol cruising around the bay, watching for escapees mostly near the shoreline of the mainland. They knew of the dangers that dwelt just under the surface near the infamous island and gave it a wide berth. Batman's craft was much more manoeuvrable than those of the Harbor Patrol however, and his below surface detection systems were much more advanced.
At the base of the cliff Batman found what he glimpsed at from the mainland; a floating corpse wearing an orange prison uniform caught in a roughly circular formation of rocks that prevented the current from carrying it away. Batman wondered how he got there as he scanned the area. Behind the dead inmate, where sea met stone, there was no evidence of a breach in the wall or in the granite cliff beneath. Perhaps he did reach the top of the wall, only to fall to his death during his descent. Anything was possible, but Batman doubted that theory. More likely the inmate came from an underwater passage of some kind, a path that proved to be too arduous for him and he drowned in the attempt. That was theory too though, and Batman was all about facts. He inched his craft nearer the ring of stones that still held the dead inmate prisoner, opened the canopy and stepped onto the island's rocky shore.
Details began to emerge as Batman approached the corpse. He was slightly overweight but his prison uniform was loose and baggy; he was losing weight while under confinement. As Batman drew closer he could see instantly how the man died. He didn't drown or fall from the wall above; this man was murdered. The lacerations on his back indicated that he was obviously assaulted from behind but the pattern was erratic, Batman could not get a sense of the height of the attacker from the wounds' placement. The weapon was small though, something easily concealed in a prison environment, but there was little blood. The varying depths of the cuts told Batman he was moving away from his attacker. He glanced down at the victims legs where more wounds were evident by torn fabric. Swimming away then. Batman turned the corpse over and instantly knew who he was. Simon Dunstan, recidivist child molester. Incarcerated in Arkham eighteen months ago after repeatedly violating the conditions of his parole. Pleading insanity but responsible for abusing several children between the ages six and twelve, and those were just the ones who came forward. It is estimated that he exploited dozens, maybe hundreds of children during his monstrous career… Few would mourn him.
Batman rose and turned from the dead man, he had revealed all he could and Batman was finished with him. He picked his way back to the sub and once inside Batman turned his craft around.
The killer had nowhere to go but the mainland. He confirmed with Alfred, who had been monitoring the island since the riot began, that no boats neared the island except Harbor Patrol who were charged with insuring that no unauthorized vessels approached. That left only one option for Dunstan's killer; a mile and a half swim. Batman spotted a Harbor Patrol boat in the distance combing the shore with spotlights, but he concluded that they would be relatively easy to avoid for a lone swimmer. A helicopter combed the waters of the bay with it's spotlight but there was only the one searching for escapees and that was on the other side of the island, there was another chopper but it still hovered over the compound.
Batman turned his craft toward the mainland and switched on the thermographic imaging display onscreen inside the submersible's cockpit. Submerged just below the surface but leaving the clear canopy above the waterline Batman gazed across the bay and tried to pick out a likely landmark a swimmer would use as a guide and began his search. Beneath the waves the sub's imager scanned the area; dark blue and purple dominated the view-screen, reflecting the cold water of the bay.
About a half mile away from the island Batman spotted movement, a distant wave hitting a jutting rock or buoy perhaps, or something else. It was out of the range of the thermal imager, but he had to be sure so he moved the sub closer to confirm. On the screen a dot of red appeared amid the blue. As the sub closed the distance the red dot grew, and orange then yellow erupted in it's center. A lone swimmer flailed against the waves desperately trying to reach the shore. He swam as if chased by an aquatic predator, and he was.
As Batman sped toward the escapee he slid the canopy forward and stood in the cockpit. When he was close he grabbed the inmate by his Arkham-orange collar and yanked him out of the water. As he was hauled onto the small sub the prisoner wailed in surprise and twisted fiercely but Batman's grip was like iron. There would be no escape this time as the man in an Arkham-orange jumpsuit looked up into his captors eyes and through the haze of his own insanity he saw his defeat.
Batman didn't know this particular resident of Arkham. His head was shaven and his thin frame weighed almost nothing, even soaking wet. His bulging eyes darted this way and that, betraying his madness. Caught in Batman's grasp the inmate smiled and with a voice hoarse from his exertions he began to chant; "I found a Bat in my bathtub, a bat in my bat-tub, a tat in my bat-bub, a tut in my bat-bab a but in my…"
"That's enough!" Batman interrupted and yanked his captive closer revealing missing teeth and horrid breath. "Before you go back to your cell you're going to tell me about Simon Dunstan!"
Batman's captive's sickly smile widened. "Sneaky Simon, he snooped. He snooped did sneaky Simon. Snooped into cellars, he snooped and smelled and snooped into sewers, and soon he smelled… soon he saw… he saw a secret!"
One gloved fist held the insane inmate sprawled over the sub's hull as Batman directed it toward a nearby Harbor Patrol boat with his free hand, all the while trying to make sense of his captive's ramblings. "Tell me about this secret."
The prisoner's smile faded. "Tell?! I can't tell! Too many telled! Too many told!" His ravings so far didn't bode well and his face grew sombre as he continued, "Sorry Simon, simple Simon, had a story. Simon says a secret story. He shouldn't have said, shouldn't have showed…"
"Who did he show?" Batman asked, but the inmate ignored the question.
"They made him wait, they did. Wait he did.
"Who? Who made him wait?"
The inmates eyes grew large and he whispered, "The shadow men, shaaaa-doooww. Shaddddow, shalllllow. And now he's shallow, gravely shallow, shallow grave. Poor Simon, Pool Simon, put poor Simon in his pool. Simon's Pool, Simon's Pond."
"Who were they? Did they kill him?" Batman repeated, trying to keep the lunatic on track.
The inmate suddenly began shouting, "Secrets! Too many secrets! TOO MANY! TOO MANY! TOO MANY!" then he continued, sombre again, "Two by two by two by two by two…" It was obvious Batman wasn't going to get any more out of him as the inmate repeated his chant over and over until his voice finally gave out, but still he sustained it by silently mouthing the words. Batman bound his prisoner as he approached one of the many Harbor Police boats in the area...
On the deck of the small patrol boat a wet thump was heard. The men who were charged with watching the shore for escaping inmates turned to find one cuffed, soaking wet and flopping about on the deck like a fish out of water. One man quickly turned his light to the seaward side of his craft. He caught only a glimpse of a smooth, shiny black shape before it sank under the waves.
To be continued...