A/N: I will warn you right now this is not one of my better chapters. However, due to the fact that it sets up the next few it is a "necessary evil" of sorts. I hope you enjoy it and I will try and post the next chapter as soon as possible, though I must warn you, I am going traveling soon so I may not update as regularly.
Bad King John
The sounds of gunshots and screams of fear and agony echoed in the darkness, Mary turning around wildly, searching for their sources. She tasted the metallic tang of blood in her mouth and the stench of smoke and charred flesh invaded her nostrils. Mary could feel bile rising up in her throat as flashes of terrible tortures and monstrous murders flashed before her. Men, women, and children, of all ages, colors, classes, and occupations being shot, stabbed, choked, poisoned, and frozen, the looks of terror on their faces remaining there for all eternity.
"NO!" Mary screamed trying to run from the memories that surrounded her. She ran, and she ran through the darkness, toward a small ray of light in the distance. As she got closer and closer, she could make out the figure of a young man waiting in a doorway, the light on the other side. "JUSTIN!" she cried, sprinting even faster toward her brother, but just when began to believe she'd make it, a large metal door slammed shut, cutting off all light and leaving Mary trapped in the darkness forever.
"AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Mary screamed, bolting up in her cot. She continued screaming for a good two minutes after she'd awoken, but eventually stopped. Breathing heavily and trying to stop her sobs, she looked around her dark room, which was similar to the one she'd had in the Asylum. Could it have all been a dream? Mary wondered. Was she still in the Asylum, waiting for the darkness to devour her entirely, but far form the reach of Professor Strange and his terrible, horrible patients? There was banging on the door of her cell.
"Mary! Get up! We have another patient coming today!" Mary sobbed silently. No… it wasn't… It wasn't a dream. She dried her eyes quickly and got up. She wasn't trapped in the Asylum, but she was far from free. And she was beginning to believe the loneliness and isolation of the cell would be preferable, to looking into the minds of 'Gotham's Finest'.
"The order's all here, Professor Strange," a TYGER guard confirmed, checking over the crates of weapons currently in the Inmate Processing Center.
"Good. Mr. Cobblepot will be arriving soon," Strange nodded.
"Why are you are giving them guns?" Mary asked looking over the crates.
"Nothing to concern yourself with my dear." Mary just looked him in the eye.
"This is all part of your plan. You want to watch them tear each other apart and study the results, and this gives you an excuse to activate Protocol 10," Mary stated and Professor Strange frowned.
"It is rude to look into people's minds to find out what they do not want you to."
Mary shook her head and sighed in frustration at the Professor's hypocrisy when another sight caught her eye. The dozens of prisoners the Professor had experimented on back at the Asylum were being led out in chains, TYGER guards guiding them on using their stun sticks like cattle prods.
"What are you doing to them!" Mary cried trying to get closer to the patients but was stopped by the blockade of TYGER guards.
"Miss Noble, step back," Strange ordered.
"Not until you tell me what exactly you are planning to do with them!"
"I am giving them to Mr. Cobblepot to be disposed of."
"NO! NO YOU CANNOT THEY DO NOT DESERVE THAT NO ONE DESERVES THAT!" Mary screamed, trying harder to get to them but failing. The Professor stalked forward, irritated, grabbed Mary's arm, and dragged her toward her cell. Unlocking the door, Professor Strange threw her inside, Mary falling to the floor in a heap, before slamming the door shut, sealing her in darkness.
Thankfully, Mary's confinement to her cell did not last nearly as long as the others, due to the Professor's need for her abilities, which led to her to currently be sitting outside his office, hours later, waiting for him to send her in. Sure enough, the door soon opened and Mary entered the room to find a very short man in a fur coat with an umbrella and what looked like the bottom of a glass bottle covering his left eye.
"Eh. O's this?" he asked when he saw Mary.
"My assistant, Miss Noble. Miss Noble, this is Mr. Cobblepot," Strange answered.
"The Penguin," Mary noted.
"Yes. You may begin." Mary sighed internally. Another day at work, same as usual. Nevertheless, Mary looked into his eyes and was immediately greeted with the sight of a young Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot, glaring at a young black haired boy in a suit, a little younger than eight years old. Not long after the Penguin sat, laughing to himself as he read a newspaper with the headline "Thomas and Martha Wayne Gunned down in Alleyway: young son Bruce only survivor." The next was of a boy, older now, in some city that did not look like Gotham, smoking a cigarette and watching a bunch of other boys were beating up another. The next were of his exploits as an adult: the mob boss, the nightclub owner, the man who created Victor Zsasz (Mary cringed slightly at that), and his numerous tortures of many of different thugs (at this point Mary was feeling a little nauseous).
"I am done," Mary stated. There was nothing extremely complicated about the man in front of her. He was not crazy: bloodthirsty, yes, but not crazy.
"Good. You may leave." Mary nodded, got up, and headed for the door.
"What the 'ell was that about Strange?" the Penguin asked as Mary left the room, shutting the door behind her.
"Now, what did you see in Mr. Cobblepot?" Strange asked as they finished dinner that night. Mary sighed, not wanting to remember that man so soon after eating, but not having much of a choice.
"He is jealous of the Waynes, especially Bruce Wayne. He feels as though they've had too much good fortune and that their luck led to his unhappiness," Mary explains. "Also, he harbors great resentment of society because his appearance led to most people judging him. Overall, his inferiority complex, due to being an outcast as a child, leads him to believing he is better than everyone. He is not insane but may choose to leave a life of crime." Strange nodded.
"Anything else?" he inquired. Mary nodded.
"John, John, bad King John
Shamed the throne that he sat on;
Not a scruple, not a straw,
Cared this monarch for the law;
Promises he daily broke;
None could trust a word he spoke;
So the Barons brought a Deed;
Down to rushy Runnymede,
Magna Carta was it hight,
Charter of the People's Right,
Framed and fashioned to correct
Kings who act with disrespect –
And with stern and solemn air,
Pointing to the parchment there,
'Sign! Sign! Sign!' they said
'Sign, King John, or resign instead!'
John, John, turning pale,
Ground his teeth and bit his nail;
Chewed his long moustache; and then
Ground and bit and chewed again.
'Plague upon the People!' he
Muttered, 'What are they to me?
Plague upon the Barons, too!'
(Here he had another chew,)
But the Barons, standing by,
Eyed him with a baleful eye;
Not a finger did they lift;
Not an eyelash did they shift;
But with one tremendous roar,
Even louder than before,
'Sign! Sign! Sign!' they said,
'SIGN, KING JOHN, OR RESIGN INSTEAD!'"
"The Penguin is rather similar to tyrannical kings of the dark ages," Mary said. "He owns everything and uses people with less power than him and often kills and tortures them for his own amusement." Strange nodded. "There's one more thing that may interest," Mary added. "Solomon Grundy."
"Pardon?" Strange inquired.
"Solomon Grundy. Like from the nursery rhyme.
'Solomon Grundy,
Born on a Monday,
Christened on Tuesday,
Married on Wednesday,
Took ill on Thursday,
Grew worse on Friday,
Died on Saturday,
Buried on Sunday.
That was the end,
Of Solomon Grundy.'"
"Why on earth would you cite that silly old nursery rhyme for Mr. Cobblepot?" Mary sighed in frustration.
"There is a monster called Solomon Grundy under the Iceberg Lounge. Penguin uses him to dispose of goons and other problems." Strange frowned.
"This is not the time for one of your little stories child," he scolded, getting up from the table. Mary's jaw almost dropped, and she shot up after the Professor.
"I am telling the truth," Mary maintained.
"I highly doubt that." Mary's blood was boiling at this point. After all this time, after everything she'd done for the Professor, after he knew how much she loathed liars, he had the gall to say she was telling tales.
"I am not lying!" Mary shouted throwing a punch at Professor Strange, which he immediately grabbed, twisted behind Mary's back, and used to force Mary face first into a desk.
"You need to learn to control your emotions my dear. It was your lack of self control that put you in the Asylum," Strange pointed out.
"No, that was my parents." Mary hissed as the Professor bent her arm further behind her back.
"Regardless of why you ended up in the Asylum, your unstable temper does nothing to help your case when it comes to your mental stability. And you must learn to understand that unchecked temper will result in punishment, just like disobedience. Understood?" the Professor inquired and Mary paused, before she sighed and nodded reluctantly.
Mary skipped through the halls of the TYGER facilities, searching for the supply room. Upon finding a book that taught her how to pick locks and hack computers, Mary had begun planning her newest escape attempt and had decided to use her new knowledge to break out of her cell and after hiding behind corners to avoid being spotted by the TYGER guards and making a few wrong turns, Mary eventually found the supply room. After unlocking the code (the word dangerous), Mary shuffled through boxes, looking for anything and everything that could aid in her escape. Picking up a backpack, Mary grabbed a grappling gun, cables, and any other equipment might be useful. Hearing the sound of heavy boots pass by the door, Mary decided it was time to return to her cell. Mary slowed as she passed Professor Strange's office, not wanting him to hear her, and heard a peculiar sound. Mary stopped and quietly opened the door, her curiosity getting the better of her. There was the Professor, sitting in his chair, dressed in what appeared to be a suit that looked like the Batman's. And he was… crying. Mary cocked her head. She'd never seen him cry before. Actually, she'd never seen him be very emotional at all, other than when he was angry. Then it hit Mary like her back hit the mat during her and the Professor's training sessions: inferiority complex. He felt he was inferior to the Batman and he couldn't stand that. Mary couldn't believe herself, but she was actually feeling sorry for the Professor and decided, against her better judgment, to try and help him.
"Professor?" Mary asked tentatively and the Professor's head snapped up and gave Mary a glare that made her mentally hit herself for wanting to help him.
"GET OUT!" he shouted, shooting up out of his seat.
"Professor–"
"OUT! GET OUT! OUT! OUT!" He grabbed Mary by the back of her dress and flung her out of the office and against the opposite wall. "AND IF YOU EVER SPEAK OF THIS TO ANYONE I WILL ENSURE YOU NEVER SPEAK AGAIN!" He slammed the door, with a BANG and left Mary on the floor, her head hurting from her impact with the wall.
"Ow," she muttered, rubbing the back of her head. So much for reaching out to him.