Goddess: Descention

Book One: Asylum

Part Four: Trapped

In This Strange Labyrinth

In this strange labyrinth how shall I turn?

Ways are on all sides while the way I miss:

Let me go forward, therein danger is;

If to the left, suspicion hinders bliss

Stand still is harder, although sure to mourn;

Thus let me take the right, or left hand way;

I must these doubts endure without allay

Mary Sidney Wroth

(est. 1587-1623)

Arkham Asylum

After binding the subdued inmates to metal pipes that ran along the walls Batman left the 'King' and his 'court' to wait, whimpering in the semi-darkness, for the authorities to retrieve and continued down the tunnel. He retraced the inmates' path in the dark passage and soon found an unlocked access door. Batman listened before he passed through, but he heard nothing in the immediate area. He heard muted voices from somewhere above however and Batman wondered if the riot police had finally breached the building. He pushed the door open wider and could see dim orange emergency lighting flicker in the room beyond but something was on the other side of the door. He pushed through the access door and saw that it led to a stairwell and just inside he found what had been holding the door in place.

Bodies. Three of them, two Arkham guards and a woman dressed in scrubs with a floral pattern; a nurse. They sat against the wall in a row, legs folded into the lotus position; hands on knees, palms up, eyes closed as if in meditation, though one of the guards had fallen over. Most disturbing however was the 'x' carved in the middle of each of their foreheads.

Batman blocked out the revulsion of what he was seeing and studied the bodies objectively; their wounds, their placement, he made note of all the details. The Arkham guards were both stabbed several times, but the nurse suffered only two wounds, a puncture to her abdomen that incapacitated but she died from the single slash to the throat. The crosses carved into each of their foreheads was done post-mortem, the wounds were too clean. Batman didn't believe this was the work of Simms and his crew, they didn't have weapons on them and even on the outside Simms' body was his weapon, he relied on his own brute strength rather than knives or even guns and the wounds on the guards were similar to the ones he found on Simon Dunstan. Made from a small blade but very sharp and this time the wounds' placement told a slightly different story than those of Dunstan. The presentation of the bodies, which was something else Simms never did, was probably not meant to be disturbed, the guard that fell over and blocked the door was likely pushed aside when Simms and his men passed through. Batman knelt beside the fallen guard and briefly examined him. Based on blood lividity, muscle flaccidity and body temperature he determined they were killed no more than two hours ago. He also noted something slightly different between the two guards, one was missing his key-card. He found it on the floor between the guard and the door and picked it up. He took out a device and scanned the prints on it then he put it back where he found it. Batman looked again at the nurse, she was in her early fifties perhaps but the cause of her death was what really interested him. The manner of her death was different from the guards. Her wounds were clean and precise unlike the guards but the slash to her throat was diagonal; starting high on the right and finishing low on the left. That indicated a backhand slash, perhaps a defensive strike. Batman examined her hands, there was blood on them, there was blood everywhere and most likely her own but on a hunch he took a fingernail scraping, if only to prove what he had already suspected. Batman stood over the victims once again, he gazed down at their posed bodies and he knew who did this.

As Batman turned back toward the door, his mind raced. It's been less than two hours, there was still time, he could still be in the bay, or at least still in the bay area. As he pulled the door open to step back into the dark passage beyond several strategies came to mind. He would have to plug the fissure somehow so any more inmates bent on escape this way would find only a dead end. He would call Gordon, intensify the search in and around Gotham Bay, now that he knew who he was looking for and how great a threat they faced…Then he heard a muffled gunshot followed by stifled shouts and screams from somewhere above. For the second time tonight Batman was pulled in two directions, he could turn and chase the devil he knew or climb the stairs and face the devil he didn't.

Unfortunately situations where hard decisions had to be made were part of Batman's job, his self-appointed crusade. He had realized long ago he could not be in two places at once and as in many situations before he had to choose the greater of two evils never really knowing for sure if he had chosen correctly. Time was of the essence and it took only an instant for Batman to weigh his options and make his decision: Trying to find the escaped killer in the bay area with a two hour head start had a remote chance of success, besides the harbor police were patrolling the bay and the Gotham PD were on alert, they might get lucky. And there was a definite situation here; the riot still raged in the building above, and Batman did not know how much control the inmates had in the east-wing and it didn't sound as if the authorities had gained any ground as of yet. Batman quickly updated Alfred as he raced up the stairs.

This was the lowest level and the stairs only went up to the next landing and ended at another access door. Before he stepped through Batman listened again and heard nothing but the echoes of shouting from the floors above, there was no sound from this level, so far, but there was light. Flickering emergency lighting created stuttering circles of illumination along the corridor. Batman stepped through the door and cautiously walked down the hall. Other doors on this level led to other corridors and through the barred windows of these doors he could see that they led to cellblocks, and all the electronically sealed doors to the cells were open. The corridor led to an open area, a reception desk at it's center, much like a hospital. Across from the desk was an elevator which seemed to be powered down. There were corridors in all four walls that led off into other wards, or more aptly, cellblocks.

As Batman entered the reception area he froze; he heard something that sounded like a sharp intake of breath. He glanced behind the desk and saw an inmate sitting on the floor intently trying to push a straightened paperclip through the back of his blood-stained hand. By the amount of blood that speckled the floor, his clothes and his hand it looked as though he succeeded, several times. He didn't even look up as Batman approached, he was so intent on his work, and he didn't see the black fist that descended upon him to put him out of his misery.

Batman moved around the desk and it's unconscious and bloody occupant toward the stairwell down one of the halls near the elevators. Halfway up the stairs the shouting from the level above suddenly grew more intense and Batman quickened his steps. When he reached the next level he opened the door a crack and analyzed the situation.

The layout of this level was much like the floor below. The reception area was a roughly hexagonal-shaped enclosure with a short wall that extended past the desk's height, to about five feet from the floor. At either end of the enclosure's entrances were hip-high swinging doors and next to these thick square pillars rose to the ceiling. On the far side of his location an Arkham guard had an inmate cornered within the circle of the reception desk. Nearby on the floor another guard moaned, his hands covered his stomach and a pool of blood was forming under him. On the far side of the room what appeared to be a doctor wearing a stained lab coat cowered behind the armed guard.

From his vantage point Batman could not see the inmate but the shouting revealed that he had a gun and hostages. They were all huddled on the floor inside the circle that was the reception area. Batman, cloaked in shadow, slowly moved closer. Opposite the lone guard and behind the Arkham prisoner he crouched down and tried to get a view of the inmate and his hostages.

"Please, just go away!" the gunman begged. "I have to stay here, the Doctor said so!"

The man in the lab coat spoke, "Which doctor Henry? Who would tell you to threaten people like this?"

"They are bad people, the Doctor said I have to keep them here till He comes."

As the doctor tried to reason with the inmate Batman inched his way closer. "They aren't 'bad' people Henry, they are just people, look at them, people with families, people with hopes and dreams, just like you." As the doctor spoke Batman was able to see the gunman in the reflection of a darkened computer monitor on the desk. He was older, very light or white thinning hair, his eyes wide with nervous fear. Batman could hear one of the hostages crying; a female, and close to the gunman. From another dark computer screen Batman could see another hostage, probably on the other side of the woman, a male wearing light colored or white scrubs and there was a third hostage that he couldn't see. The only hostage making any sound was the female cowering next to the gunman.

"You don't understand, no one understands, no one but the Doctor." The inmate was sobbing now and the bleeding guard on the floor moaned.

"Help me to understand Henry." said the doctor, trying to be soothing, but his own anxiety was showing in his voice. Batman glanced toward the sound of the moan, the man on the floor didn't have long, he was bleeding extensively, he would have to end this soon.

The doctor and the armed guard on the other side of the room were unaware of Batman's presence. That wasn't necessarily good, anything he tried might provoke the guard into firing his weapon needlessly and dangerously. Batman had to let him know that he was there. He carefully moved behind the pillar and Henry allowing his silhouette to be seen. Startled recognition showed on the guard's face and he nodded, relieved to have help. Batman motioned the guard to back off and he did but he didn't lower his weapon. The doctor, oblivious to this exchange, continued to try to talk Henry into giving up his hostages but Henry insisted he had to wait for Him.

"Who Henry? Who do you have to wait for?" asked the doctor.

There was a pause then Henry replied, "Not supposed to say, but he'll be here, the Doctor said he would." Batman had a sinking suspicion that he knew who Henry was waiting for.

Batman didn't like this, too many variables he didn't control. So his only option was to remove the variables and take control. He would have to do several things at once and he would have to be precise. As with all situations where innocents were involved, there was no margin for error; a mistake or a miscalculation could kill a hostage. He readied his weapons and took a deep calming breath…

On the floor of the reception area Henry was down on his knees next to his hostages. Their hands and feet were manacled with the asylum's leather and iron restraints. Henry sat next to a woman, a nurse, she was sobbing quietly, the other two, a man and another woman were staring at him. Henry didn't like it when people stared at him. He scowled at them and looked down at the gun in his hand. It was shaking and he didn't know why. The medicine the Doctor gave him was supposed to help, he said this new medicine was supposed to make him calm, would take away the anger and the panic. But Henry didn't feel calm, he felt as if his head was about to explode and his muscles were all scrunched, he needed to stand up and stretch, but he knew they would shoot him if he did. Did the medicine make him feel this way? The doctor said this medicine was better, that it would help. He couldn't be wrong, he was the Doctor.

Henry wished He would get here soon, Henry wanted to end this. Henry wanted his pain to stop. But it didn't stop, and suddenly there was much more pain and he couldn't understand why his hand hurt and where was the gun he just had? He also couldn't see. A grey mist enveloped him and his hostages, they were shouting and crying. He hated all that noise, if he still had his gun he would stop the noise. But his gun was gone and his hand hurt, did the gun turn into a snake and bite him? Then he was rising from the floor and felt himself dragged over the low wall of the reception desk.

Out of the smoke into the dim hallway Henry could see again. Henry looked up into an angry cowled face, "It's You! He said you would come! I have a message from the Doctor." And Henry did exactly what Doctor Crane told him to do. Happily Henry told Batman his message, "Dr. Crane said to tell you that all this was your fault." With that he plunged the needle he had in his other hand into his own chest. But it wasn't an ordinary needle, there was something attached to the back of it that looked like a tiny balloon. As Henry's face twisted into a rictus of pain and his body stiffened in Batman's grasp the little balloon on the end of the syringe burst into a fine mist. Batman turned his face away and held his breath but it was too late, he knew he must have inhaled some of Crane's toxin, because he could already feel it's effects.

The room began to swim, the haze of his own smoke capsule added to the effect. Henry seemed to melt in his hands to form a puddle of ichor at his feet. Batman knew what he was seeing couldn't possibly be real. It was the effects of a powerful hallucinogen concocted by Crane. He knew this, but why did he feel such a profound heart-tearing guilt as he watched Henry dissolve into a pool of blood on the floor and just before his face liquefied completely Henry repeated his message to Batman; "It's all your fault."He couldn't look at Henry anymore, he glanced over the short wavering partition and saw Henry's former hostages against the far wall sitting in a row in the lotus position, eyes closed but each had a third eye in the middle of their foreheads that stared menacingly at him. Beneath them a large pool of blood was forming and in the midst of that grisly pool the wounded man was, like Henry, melting and sinking into the spreading blood on the floor. Just before he sank completely the dying guard looked accusingly up at him as well and mouthed the same words Henry had just dutifully relayed; It's all your fault…Batman backed away until a wall materialized behind him and stopped his retreat.

Internally he fought against the effects of the toxin. He knew it for what it was; poison, and he held on to that fact. Facts, the building blocks of who he was. Facts and control. Control of emotions, of fears, of distractions. Every aspect of his life was controlled and bent to a specific purpose. His rebuilt life, ever since… No! He would not go there, not now. That way leads to madness. He closed his eyes and felt the wall behind him, felt its solidness despite the fact that he could also feel the floor slipping out from under him. When he opened his eyes he saw the guard approaching. Batman waved him back and warned him away in a strained voice, " Stay, away… Toxin, in the air." He didn't know if it still was looming in the area unseen but he didn't want to take the chance of having to deal with someone else under it's effects: He was having enough trouble dealing with his own reaction. On the far side of the room Batman could see shadows move and voices talking and shouting. The part of his mind that still retained a grip on reality recognized them as Gordon's specially trained riot police. If they had gotten this far down into the building than the rest of the wing should be back under control. They wouldn't need him he hoped, because he was rapidly losing that tentative grip on reality. Soon he would be of no use to anyone. He backtracked out the door he came through, he needed to get out of here, the air was thick and stifling.

To be continued...