Goddess: Descention
Book One: Asylum
Part Three: King Lukas
OZYMANDIAS
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away.
Percy Bysshe Shelly
(1792-1822)
Arkham Asylum
Batman doubted that the madly rambling inmate he caught was Simon Dunstan's killer, and if he was, he's in custody now in any case. But he had a hunch that the chanting inmate likely found Dunstan already dead and dragged him to the circle of rocks where Batman found him. The real killer or killers have probably reached the mainland and are long gone by now. A sick feeling of guilt erupted within as he relayed the events to Alfred who in turn would anonymously inform Commissioner Gordon that at least two killers, possibly more have escaped the prison and have reached the mainland. Batman submerged his vehicle and set a course back to the island. He would make damned sure no one else escaped tonight.
Batman approached the island again but under the churning murky water it was impossible to see anything even with the high intensity lights the sub was equipped with. In the chilly water thermographic imaging too was all but useless when trying to locate objects that are as cold as the water that surrounds them, but the Batman had other options. Like his namesake he used sonar to aid his search and to find his way safely between the jagged obstructions as he neared the island.
Batman began his search slightly north of the body's location. He doubted the slight inmate he found could have dragged the heavy corpse of Simon Dunstan far. Batman calculated the direction of the current and how the dead inmate would have drifted in the immediate area and where the babbling inmate may have found him to deduce the best region to begin his search. As he propelled his craft he scanned the area; the sonar painted a picture of his surroundings and relayed them to the view-screen mounted just behind the twin joysticks he used to navigate the small craft. He also kept a corner of the screen open for the thermal-image display just in case a warm body happened by.
The highly sensitive sonar system was able to map out the sub's surroundings with surprising detail. He soon found what he was looking for. It's roundness stood out on the screen amid sharp-angled rocks. A hemispherical shape with parallel lines that ran up from the flat part of the half-circle to the circle's arc. It was a grate, and judging by it's tilt, it had fallen, or more likely, it was moved. Behind the grate the sonar indicated a long empty tunnel.
The passage was too narrow, even for the small submersible to navigate; it was time for Batman to get his feet wet. As he directed the sub to surface Batman readied a rebreather that was kept inside the aquatic vehicle. The apparatus was a prototype developed by WayneTech, and was much smaller than its commercial or even military counterparts. Altered slightly to fit over his cowl, Batman donned the device then typed a code into the control pad in his gauntlet that would seal his armor, making it as impervious to water as a wet suit. He then slid open the canopy and plunged into the dark water. As he descended Batman hit another button on his gauntlet that would seal the submersible and set it's auto-navigate system to keep it from being carried away by the current.
With the light that was affixed to the back of his gauntlet, Batman quickly found the passage again. It was a sewer system, he discerned as he entered the tunnel, but old judging by the style of it's construction. Built long before the asylum and completely submerged, the tunnel was extensive and it proved to be a long swim. Quite a feat, he thought, for someone like Simon Dunstan, if he made it out alive.
Finally the passage opened out to a small reservoir filled only halfway with seawater. He removed the rebreather and scanned his surroundings. He noticed right away it was quake-damaged; part of one side of the rock wall had broken off and fallen to the bottom of the basin. Batman scanned the entire area with his light but he could find no other breach in the vicinity. He moved toward the broken wall and the tumbled rocks provided a means to climb to the top. Several meters above Batman found a fissure. Probably formed by the quake and made larger later. Scuff marks and a few threads of Arkham-orange caught by the aperture's jagged edges gave mute evidence that this was the exit point for the escaping inmates. He shone his light into the dark gap but all he could see were pipes above. Batman had to squeeze is large armored frame inside the opening and after much grunting and scraping he finally pulled himself through. On the other side Batman found himself in an access tunnel. A place where drainage pipes converged from all parts of the east-wing building just below the lowest subbasement.
He took only one step before he heard voices from the far side of the tunnel and immediately the Batman extinguished his light and melted into the shadows. A dozen men approached but only one carried a flashlight. Batman avoided looking directly at the light as they neared to allow his eyes adjust to the darkness. By the noise they were making he didn't need to see them to know exactly where they were.
Their whispered voices were excited, but the one with the flashlight angrily hushed the rest silent. He was a big man, muscular and tall and even in the dim light Batman could see he walked with a cautious confidence. He was Lukas Simms, and Batman knew him well. Simms had beaten to death half a dozen people at his own high school reunion and that was only the beginning of his rampage.
To find and apprehend Simms previously Batman had looked extensively into his background, even his sealed juvenile records. From what he learned it only made sense that Simms tenuous hold on sanity would break at his high school reunion. Born to a middle class family, both parents were hard working honest people with no criminal records or history of mental illness and they seemed to care deeply for their only son. However as a teenager Simms was a victim. He was always big, but in his youth he was grossly overweight and always fearful; of the unknown, of the dark and of the constant ridicule he endured. Like a pack of wild dogs the school bullies could smell his fear and they were relentless in their hounding of the young and overly sensitive Lukas Simms. As a result Simms withdrew into himself.
Lukas Simms' hobbies encompassed reading and writing fantasy stories to escape the reality of his harsh existence but at some point this escapism became the dominant factor in his life and he began to live not in the real world but in a fantasy world of his own making. Lukas' grades began to slip as his stories took precedence over his schoolwork and he whispered to himself constantly; playing out the events based in reality and mirrored in his new world within his own mind.
His parents grew concerned and set up an appointment with a psychologist but before his first session Lukas Simms had his first psychotic break. The school bullies pursued him once more but this time Lukas Simms tenuous hold on reality cracked and he turned on his attackers. Snarling, Lukas beat the would-be bullies bloody; breaking noses, arms and one unfortunate boy ended up with a broken neck and would never walk again. Simms ran after the fight and the police were called. He was found days later and when he tried to fight the police they forcefully subdued him and brought him to Arkham for psychological testing under the care of Dr. Jonathon Crane.
In retrospect, if Crane had been the caring doctor the world at that time believed him to be Lukas Simms would have gotten the help he needed but that was not to be. Crane was a monster even then, before he became the Scarecrow. But even so, Crane still had to maintain appearances; he was manoeuvring his position, trying to gain ultimate control over Arkham and he needed successful cases to do that. Lukas Simms would be one such case. Drug therapy as well as private consultation was prescribed for Simms and after several months of intensive treatment Lukas was released providing he took the medication Crane prescribed for him and continued with his therapy. He resumed classes at a different school and graduated without incident.
Years later Crane fell from grace as his atrocities came to light. With his downfall close at hand Crane destroyed many of his private case files and notes on his patients, including those of Lukas Simms. No one knows what went on during those private therapy sessions, no one knows the worms of insanity Crane planted in the unknowing minds of those he pretended to help, and no one knew the damage they would cause later.
With his doctor now in custody and imprisoned in his own asylum the drug therapy that Simms was under stopped because the doctor assigned to readdress Crane's numerous cases was not the brilliant chemist Crane was, he could not see the affect the drugs had on Simms and he could not predict the effect stopping them would lead to, all he could see was a patient without a psychotic episode in years under a superfluous medication.
After graduating Lukas Simms began working for a construction firm and the fat melted away under the constant physical exertion of his work. Simms body became stronger but whatever Crane did through the therapy and the drugs he prescribed weakened his mind and after the drugs stopped Simms' hold on reality began to slip once more. Once mild-mannered, Simms behaviour changed, he became paranoid and aggressive, he saw those around him as lesser men that sought to take from him what was his. His mind began to sporadically dwell on the fears he had when he was a boy and he began to whisper to himself again, explaining those fears, justifying them. The fantasy world he lived in as a teenager clouded his mind again but this time he created a world that revolved around him, a world where he was king.
The high school reunion brought back and congealed all those memories of confusion and fear he had as a boy but he wasn't a boy anymore, he wasn't helpless anymore: The reunion was an opportunity to show them all who he really was. In a high school gymnasium amid the music and the dancing under a disco ball and the twirling lights, where old friends and former frenemies reacquainted themselves under multi-colored balloons the fantasy world Simms created solidified around him and he lost his tentative hold on reality. Lukas Simms snapped, he turned his fears into aggression and became what had tormented him relentlessly as a child; a bully, but much, much worse.
After the violence at the reunion Simms disappeared but new victims began to surface all over Gotham and that was when King Lukas emerged on Batman's radar. The confrontation between them was encompassed within Simms' fantasy-world and in it Batman became the focus of the unexplainable and dark reality that King Lukas could not control or conquer. He was the demon-bat, infused with dark powers beyond the ken of even the powerful King Lukas. In the end Batman had defeated Simms and brought him back to Arkham. The King may have fallen, but Simms vowed he would rise again.
Lukas Simms was strong and powerful, he used his brute strength to great advantage and he was quicker than his size should allow, but he was a brawler: There was no technique or refinement when he fought, just heavy blows designed to break his opponents and break them quickly. Highly superstitious and paranoid, Simms lived in a brutal fantasy world where he believed he was defending his rightful place as king and he killed without compunction anyone who stood in his way. In Simms' world only the strong survived but even the mighty could be brought low by the unexplainable, evil entities he saw as ghosts and demons. When Batman brought him down before Simms saw him as some sort of devil summoned by his enemies to defeat him. So now, as he was escaping his prison, Simms was wary, not of the men behind him, but of what lurked in the unknown darkness before him.
The men that followed Simms, or King Lukas as he preferred to be addressed, were unknown to Batman for the most part. A mixture of patients from the ward above most likely. Many looked emaciated with lesions and old scars on their shaven heads and pallid faces, their orange prison uniforms were stained and torn; King's men indeed. Simms, who led the group, appeared to be the only real threat among the inmates that approached and Batman knew exactly how to deal with him.
As the desperate men groped their way down the passage, they could smell their freedom in the salt air and it grew stronger with every step. Simms quickened the pace and moved like a man possessed, and he believed he was. He was an ancient king reborn. Exiled and locked away, his birthright stolen and his kingdom usurped, but not for long. He will begin a bloody campaign to take back what was rightfully his. He looked back at the rag-tag group that followed him and sneered. A meagre army to be sure, scoundrels and villains the lot of them, but they were all he could muster to his cause in this vile place. Still, they were only the beginning; battle would cull the worthy from the worthless and his army would grow into a mighty force that would sweep the land clean of corruption and shatter the usurpers grasp on his fallen kingdom!... He only wished they would just shut up! Their constant whispering was distracting and disconcerting. He could not hear the silent road before them, he could not tell if enemies approached in the darkness and he could not hear the whispered counsels of his own mind. A rage welled up but he subdued it, he needed these men, later he would beat them into submission, but now was not the time and this was not the place for an object-lesson in discipline.
King Lukas peered ahead into the inky blackness, his light pierced the darkness like a radiant spear that punctured the shadows leaving a pale bloodless wound. He slashed left and right with his only weapon against this evil murky gloom that threatened and saw the shadows shrink back but only so long as his light touched them. Beyond the illuminating shaft of brilliance the dark and all the horrors that it promised prevailed.
The scuffling footsteps of his men and their incessant whispering grated on his nerves and the inky blackness that surrounded him seemed to close in on his meagre light. Often he would stop and turn abruptly, feeling more than hearing the slinking silent approach of something unimaginably malevolent. As he turned his light it briefly illuminated the faces of his men, slack-jawed and many of them drooling or grinning stupidly and all with little to no comprehension of where they were or what they were doing beyond escape. Poor guardians for a king he knew and he turned his fear of what might lay hiding in the dark around them into an opportunity to berate his men into silence once again but his anger with them could not completely drown his own fear. He knew something was coming, something dark and sinister. King Lukas did not fear his own mortality, he was a warrior and a reborn king after all, but he knew there were things in the unseen universe much worse than death.
Just after the darting flashlight turned and Simms raged at his followers to stay silent yet again, Batman made his move. He loomed behind the self-styled king, silent and dreadful. Simms felt a presence behind him and his latest tirade halted mid-syllable. Theatricality was as much a weapon in Batman's arsenal as any of his other skills and gadgets and against the likes of men such as these it was formidable. He could not see the look of horror on Lukas Simms' face but from the silhouette made by the light Batman could see his body tense immediately. Some of the 'king's' men felt Batman's presence as well and the others took their cue from Simms when they saw the abject terror pass over his face. Still others saw the black on black shadowy wall that loomed in the dark passage before them, a wall just as impassable as the one that surrounded their prison above and they felt the first twinges of the panic that would invariably grip them all.
Batman knew Simms to be fearful of the unknown which included the apparition known as The Batman and he also knew that fight not flight was King Lukas' only course of action against such a threat. Batman's first course of action was to remove Simms' only weapon against the darkness, a stinging blow to a pressure point in the wrist sent shivers of pain up the king's arm and the flashlight dropped from his numb fingers to go skittering across the passage's floor, spinning as it went. The big man roared in pain and defiant rage as he turned on his unseen attacker with a wild sweeping swing from his undamaged arm but Batman had already melted back into the black.
The light which was once an ally, seemed to have turned against the desperate men as it revolved around the tunnel creating rather than banishing the shadows. The spinning light turned the passageway into a kaleidoscope of horrors where a demon moved freely amongst the frightened men as perilous and untenable a noxious cloud.
For men who have walked too close to the edge of sanity and have fallen into madness Batman's silent attack was a nightmare come true. To them it was as if the very darkness that surrounded them came suddenly to life with only one purpose; to terrorize them. In his own mind each saw their own personal horror as shadow and light revolved around them. They would see a claw of inky blackness pull them into darkness, or the horns of a shadow demon come to take them to hell. Frenzied shrieks echoed off the tunnel walls and fuelled the panic that gripped the men. Fear froze their hearts, knotted their bellies and turned their bowels to water as they danced in the spinning darkness to the music of their own screams.
Simms bellowed his rage and fear as he lumbered through his own panic stricken men knocking them aside. Each pass of the light revealed another man down, some fallen to the shadow and some to their own 'king'. Two of the terrified men bolted; one of which ran headlong into the tunnel wall knocking himself into unconsciousness, the other ran in the right direction at least, toward the fissure ahead, but Batman managed to trip him up with a Batarang and he fell sprawling and mewling in terror on the passage floor. Finally the cries and screams abated to a pitiful whimpering that rose from the throats of the few inmates still conscious but too afraid to rise from the tunnel floor.
As the spinning light slowed the only inmate left standing was King Lukas. Panting and grunting he turned this way and that, his eyes wide with fear trying desperately to see his attacker in the shadows that formed and melted before his very eyes. Simms bellowed at the darkness, "Come out Demon! Come out and face me!" One arm hung loosely at his side still numb from Batman's first blow, the other was held ready, his hand clenched tightly in a huge fist not unlike a medieval mace. "I will send you and whoever conjured you up back to the pit they summoned you from!"
Batman knew the game he was playing was feeding Lukas Simms' psychosis, pulling him ever deeper into his own malign fantasy. Men like Simms were victims of their own twisted minds, he understood that, pitied them for it, but he would use any and every advantage available when apprehending such dangerous offenders. If he didn't there would be many more victims than those walled up inside this asylum.
Still, Batman truly believed that even the most demented of minds could be reached and sense restored. With all the advances in medical technology and research that delved into the almost mystical functions of the human brain, he had to believe a cure for many of these mental afflictions would someday be discovered, could even be discovered in a place like Arkham Asylum. Batman had to hold to that belief, if he did not he would move closer to a line he had forbidden himself to cross.
As insane or even as evil as the inmates of this asylum were there was a chance however slim that someday they could find their way out of the darkness of their own minds. Jonathon Crane, Harvey Dent, Waylon Jones, and especially the Joker and the rest including Lukas Simms deserved little in the way of sympathy in light of the lives they've destroyed. Some believed they didn't deserve to live themselves but Batman wasn't one of them.
It all came down to hope. Many of the inmates here would not hope for deliverance from their own madness. Some relished it, gloried in it, found freedom in it in spite of the walls that surrounded them. Batman however, hoped for their redemption even if they did not, and that was one of the many reasons, perhaps the most important reason why he did not kill: Death was final and forever, with no lessons learned, no second chances and no hope of redemption; but where there is life… there is always hope.
But hope did not soften Batman's resolve. He was the Dark Knight, born of shadow and menace. Buried deep beneath his towering sense of justice there was an unfathomable well of anger and hatred for the injustice of the world. He tapped that well, used it and from it created a persona of nightmares that sent a chill down the spines of all those who would oppose justice. It was a balance he must maintain, he must be master of that seething pit of rage or become a slave to it. That was the fine line he walked every time he donned the cape and the cowl. That thin line between towering rage and unwavering justice was the difference between subduing an opponent and beating a criminal senseless, perhaps causing irreparable physical harm, and it was the difference between using a criminal's fears against them, and intensifying their psychosis's, causing even more mental anguish.
On nights like this however, when the stakes were so high, when the possibility of the demented minds of this diseased place running loose amongst an innocent population was all too real a threat… On nights like this that fine line blurred.
The spinning light slowed and finally rocked to a stop, it's long conical beam shone diagonally across the passage and illuminated the bright orange jumpsuit worn by the man who would be king. The salty tang in the air that only a few seconds ago promised deliverance from this dungeon had faded, replaced by the sickly scent of fear, musty decay and his own men's urine. The soft moans and pathetic whimpers of his 'army' on the floor surrounded Lukas Simms but those were the only sounds he heard, besides the rasp of his own heavy breathing and the scuffling of his own heavy feet. Of the shadow-demon, of the Bat, he could neither see nor hear a trace, but he could still feel his ominous presence lurking somewhere in the black. He turned again, his back against the pale beam of light and taunted the darkness once more, but he could not keep the fear out of his voice. "C-come out and f-face me demon!" When King Lukas turned back toward the shaft of light the Dark Knight stepped into its pale radiance.
Upon seeing him again, Lukas Simms' heart momentarily stopped and his breath caught in his throat. Gasping he took a step back as Batman took a step closer. The demon's low cavernous whisper sounded to the king's ears as if it came from the deepest pit of hell, "I may be a demon Simms, but you're no king."
In the depths of his twisted mind Lukas Simms terror transformed into a dangerous and reckless ferocity. King Lukas howled in fury and like a wild animal, cornered, desperate, with nothing left to lose, he lunged at the demon-bat. Batman side-stepped the violent charge but Simms' blind rage gave him some kind of insight or intuition, or perhaps it was just blind-luck that his flailing arm caught Batman's cape as the he spun out of the king's way. Finding something of substance to hold on to in the darkness gave Simms a direction for his uncontrolled onslaught. King Lukas turned toward the prize in his hand quicker than one would expect of a man his size and barrelled into his enemy. The impact knocked the wind from Batman's lungs as he was slammed into the tunnel wall with a force that felt like a freight train.
Pinned between the wall and the frothing madman Batman tried to twist his body enough to free himself but Simms' fist was raised and poised to fall on him and suddenly Batman needed both hands to stay that hammer-like blow. With Simms' huge fist in his hands and the King's other arm still weak from the demon-bat's first blow, Batman was able to turn just enough to kick Simms on the outside of his knee which caused him to stagger and gave Batman enough leverage to twist free.
King Lukas was completely immersed in a berserk rage now. His fear, his superstition, and his kingdom all took a backseat to the fury that now drove him. Simms was beyond reason. His face now only vaguely resembled that of a human as it distorted into a feral snarl. There were no more taunts issued from his foaming mouth only an animal-like roar as he flailed madly at his enemy with his numb arm. The King's huge fist still in his hands Batman kicked the great fuming hulk away and sent him staggering into the darkness.
Simms backed into one of his cowering men on the floor and fell. The King crawled forward and like before during his many rampages King Lukas was incapable of distinguishing friend from foe and with a snarling bellow Lukas raised both fists to smash down on the helpless man cringing before him. Before that devastating blow landed however, Batman took a running leap and kicked Simms again this time with both feet and sent him further back into the tunnel. Grunting and howling in fury Simms regained his feet and poised himself for another charge while Batman quickly made an adjustment on his gauntlets and stepped back into the dim light, giving King Lukas a definitive target for his next attack.
Short of killing him there was little that could stop King Lukas now. Batman knew that in his present state Simms understood nothing except his fury, he could feel no pain, no remorse and was incapable of reason. With nothing between him and his adversary but empty darkness, Simms charged again yowling in an bestial frenzy but Batman was ready for him. When Simms reached him Batman ducked under his flailing arm and struck him just under his shoulder delivering and electrical shock through his gauntlet. Batman had adjusted the electrical current that would normally have caused his cape to configure into the glider formation into what was essentially a taser. As the mild electrical current buzzed through him Simms' charge went past Batman and into a tunnel wall. But King Lukas was not done yet. Dazed and shocked but still in the clutches of his berserker rage Simms turned back toward the Batman and with a howl of fury he charged again. And again Batman struck him at two more pressure points that jolted and burned through his huge body. Batman's blows were not necessarily hard hits, he knew Simms could not feel pain and that strength would not defeat King Lukas. Instead Batman chose the placement of his strikes carefully, weakening his enemy a little more with every blow.
Strike after strike Batman continued the assault until finally the electrical jolts began to take their toll on the hulking inmate. His flailing arms grew heavier and slower, his charges were sluggish and the King began to stagger. Breathless and panting, the strength of his huge body waning from the repeated jolts of electrical current from Batman's decisive strikes sapped his fury. Simms made a final lunge at the object of his rage but his huge body could not comply and the King fell with a mountainous clamor at Batman's feet.
To be continued...