After making quick work of the Caged Tiger, the Jeweled Jester descended from the upper floors to the catwalk overlooking the Intermediate Security Wing, she basked in the calamity brought upon by her hand. This kind of chaos would be something Purple Joker would be proud to witness. To be an extension of his will, an agent of anarchy, was all she aspired to be, right?
Surely there was more for her in life than that. She was a doctor for God's sake. Dr. Joan Quinzel was someone who once wanted to help people like this. Thoughts of doubt in her Grape Jello Puddin' clouded Quinzel's mind again before she quashed them again. No, she was sick before she met him. She was just another cog in an ever-worsening world that had no chance of redemption. And he turned her into something beautiful, something perfect. Her purpose was to keep the Joker happy, and he made the Jester happy in turn.
Everyone was tearing each other apart as they were overtaken by Mr. Scary's toxin. Joker always saw fear as the darkest parts of people taking over. Mr. Scary was one of the few people that actually got along with Purple Joker, and by extension the Jester. It was a lifetime ago, but Dr. Crane was a professor of Joan in college. Phobias was a favorite elective of a younger Quinzel, and she was fond of his eccentric nature.
Joker's conditioning had her pumped full of so many drugs, that the stuff didn't affect her, he was the only one who could control her. So, she could galivant through the asylum completely unfettered. Despite Mr. Scary's prior fondness for Quinzel, he did nothing to help her against her abusive master. He found the work Joker had done on her too interesting of an experiment to tamper with. Lawrence Crane was more a man of science than a man of character.
She pouted as she watched from above as Pupil and the new girl in the green cloak fought off most of the more pathetic costumed crooks, but she couldn't help but laugh at the sight of the Quilt Shocker. The Jester found his existence inherently funny, as was any pain inflicted upon him. But after that, her face lit up to see two true villains step into the fray. One of them being her friend, Maria.
Over the three and a half years or so that the Purple Joker had Joan Quinzel under his control, he'd send the Jester out on dangerous missions for when he didn't want to get his hands dirty. Many of these missions would just so happen to be similar to the ones the Kingpain would send his own femme fatale on. In reality, Joker would do this purely to mess with Bane without directly incurring his wrath.
Typhoid Ivy would be one of the only people who'd treat Quinzel as an equal, both being the pawns of Goth's Kitchens big two crime bosses. Most other villains in Goth's Kitchens either belittled or pitied her for whatever reason. Maria didn't care much for Bane. She was never one for violence, but mercenary work gave her protective alter some more time out in the sun, and money in her pocket. On the other hand, both sides of Ms. Isley despised the Purple Joker for how she treated Joan. But given Joker's powers, she didn't want to risk an encounter with him.
At around this time, she watched as the Polar Blade started dueling against Typhoid Ivy. She cheered as her friend used her vines to grapple against the cloaked woman's katana. Ivy was gaining the upper hand as more and more vegetation bloomed and blossomed throughout the asylum. It was starting to look more and more like a swamp. They wrapped around and restrained the swordswoman. She proceeded to throttle and throw Lorna around like a child playing with a ragdoll.
One could question how someone so powerful was able to be contained in a place like this, including the audacity to keep decorative plants within proximity. Well, to answer your question, dear viewer, the plants in the Asylum were typically plastic for this specific reason. But a certain devil child and his bird came in earlier that morning, replaced them all with real plants.
The Asylum wasn't so cruel to use the power dampening collars which inflicted great pain and discomfort on their wearers. Ryker's simply tried creating environments to which their powers wouldn't be effective, and coax them into a state of mind to where they wouldn't want to escape and seek treatment normally. And look where that got them. This was not one of the better ideas provided by the city of Goth's Kitchen. Admittedly it was encouraged by the Blind Bat, but this was mainly the city's blunder to bear.
Things were looking up for Ivy until Lorna went back to an old trick. Despite being tied up and stretched apart by the vines, she was able to work up enough concentration to wield her sword by her magnesis alone. And with careful aim and visual tracking, started spinning it around herself as if it was a satellite orbiting her body. Ivy would try to send more at her, but she cut through the vines like nothing and gave the Asylum some acute internal landscaping until she caught her sword mid orbit and pointed it to Ivy's face.
The floral fighter was overcome by the feelings of all those plants being cut down. To manipulate such power, they became extensions of herself. Cutting them in as rapid succession as Lorna did, felt like cutting off one hundred limbs. She knelt to the ground, trying, and failing to compose herself. Her red hair was swooped over the unmade-up side of her face, only showing her green half. "I'm…just here to protect…us. I don't even care about escape, Mary's getting good help here."
Lorna was at a loss for words at this point, "Then why did you even attack me?!" she asked incredulously.
"I…don't know. That part is kind of a blur. I might have greened out for a sec, and by the time I was back, we were already fighting…" she answered, breathing heavily. Maybe someone else was pulling the strings with her.
Before Lorna could ponder this any further, the Jester had jumped down from the catwalk and slammed Lorna across the face with her mallet. The extra momentum added with her enhanced strength sent Lorna flying across the room, slamming into a wall, and knocked her out for the time being. Joan then stood up and faced Ivy with a goofy little grin on her face, "Hey, Red! Howya been?"
It took Ivy a minute to process everything that just happened. She was still reeling from the advanced pruning all her precious flora received, but eventually she managed to give a collected response, "Joan, hi…I've been better. Hold on, just a sec. I gotta take a minute. Lemme get Mary out here…" Ivy paused before her whole demeanor shifted from weary to simple timidity. She adjusted her hair to cover the green half of her face and buttoned up her asylum clothes to appear more modest. With Lorna out for the count, she no longer perceived herself in danger, and Ivy relinquished control back to her main alter, Maria Isley.
"Hey, other Red," Joan greeted as the other side of Iseley emerged. "You been doing okay in here?"
Maria took a deep breath as she took in her surroundings. At first, she seemed nervous to be around so many cut up vines. But as she looked at the whitened face of her friend, she felt safe. The two then hugged in a warm embrace. "Hello Joan, I've been getting a lot better here. Ryker's has been a new place since Bane lost power. I've been needing Typhoid less and less. They told me that I could be around plants again soon…" she said with pride.
That was until she paused and took another look around, "Though that hope may be squandered now, we lashed out again, didn't we? Wait, what are you even doing here?" her demeanor turned timid again as she felt a hint of shame, thinking her mental state was regressing.
The compassionate, doctoral side of Joan, which had been buried for a long time, sprouted back out again as she saw a friend in need. "No, you did nothing wrong. Ivy was forced out by the stressful environment, and she acted wholly in self-defense. Once everything gets cleaned up, you'll have the chance at a clean bill of health you deserve." Quinzel spoke with a kind, reassuring voice. The Jester's current conditioning had left her to be against the institution of the asylum, but that was hard given how much it seemed to have been helping her dear friend.
Maria let out a sigh of relief, "Thank you, what happened to cause her to come out?" she asked as she took a closer look at the cells forcibly shut by Lorna's powers, and then at Lorna herself. "Everything is in total disarray. All the cell doors look ravaged, and who is that?"
Joan could only shrug at that last question, "Beats me, Bats just showed up today with backup. String Bean probably spilled to Kiwi, and he spilled to the Bat. This was all me and Professor Crane's work! Nygma needed my help to break out Mistah P.J., and I gotta say, everything's going great so far!" she explained with sadistic pride in hers and Mr. Scary's work.
Maria's face turned from relief to horror as she pieced together what she was doing here, "No...Joan Jessica Quinzel, don't tell me that you're here to break out him," she all but ordered to the Jester. "You've had so much time apart from him. I thought this'd finally be your chance to break free!"
"I'm only free when I'm with him, Mary! I am only anything when I'm with him," the Jester snapped back in retort. "I thought you of all people would understand what it's like only being half a person!"
Maria was hurt by Joan's insinuation, "At least Ivy tries to protect me! My mind created her to keep me safe. Joker only created what you are now to put you in danger! Going back to him will do nothing but hurt you. Why can't you see that?"
Joan was quiet as she pondered the answer to that question. She didn't like introspection. Joker to reprogram her to do that. A lot of what he conditioned her into being was slowly falling apart. She could feel it, that terrified her, and Maria was making her confront that. So, she did the one thing she knew would help: run, run to her Grape Jello Puddin'.
In the general population wing, Mr. Scary continued to clash against the Immortal Dragon Fist. This portion of the facility was contrastingly flooded with the fearmonger's frightening fumes. Strangely, the reptilian-handed fighter did not seem to be affected by it. This was much to the mad professor's great annoyance.
You see, the caveat with using gaseous weapons is that the target must breathe them in to be effective. But Richard Rand had mastered the martial artist's technique of chi. Chi was the transference of energy and the strict control of breathing to enhance the limits of the body and the spirit. Deep focus allowed Rand to keep a pure mind, and power through the reaper-clad reprobate from landing a mortal blow with his scythe.
Crane became more and more enraged as his magnum opus of chemicals failed to best this man in green pajamas. His scythe swings became more and more erratic as he tried to close the gap made by the defensive dragon duelist. All this time, Rand had been forced to stay on the defensive. Any attacking strike could compromise his focus and succumb him to the gas.
"You carry so much power in your hands, yet you squander it by holding back. A martial artist afraid of aggression, well isn't that irritatingly ironic," Crane commented through his gas mask as he tried and failed to reap the Dragon Fist. But those glowing hands swatted away the repurposed farming tool as if it were but a common hoe.
Rand continued to take slow and deep breaths as he allowed the chi within him to purify the air, but deep down he knew he couldn't keep up forever. While the gas did not throw him into a chemically induced nightmare, his anxieties were creeping up from beneath the woodwork in his mind.
He was the next in a long line of warriors, trained by monks, blessed with great power of the dragon O-Lao, all to protect all of Asia. His father had stood before him, but fell to Morb Death Man. The noble fighter went to Japan to try and prevent the monster from invading his home of Kun Lun in China. Only for the ghoul to be defeated by the child of another one of his victims. Richard could not avenge his father, but still had the baggage of carrying his legacy.
Now he faced a skeletally faced foe of his own, and he was on the verge of losing. To him, he was a failure in every sense, and it was eating him to his core. Richard felt unworthy of his father's legacy, and he feared that the title of the Dragon Fist would be tarnished for his blunders. Those were his true greatest fears, and Mr. Scary's gas had nothing to do with it.
Regardless of its cause, Scary could notice the fear within Rand's face, and relished in the idea that the toxin was taking its course. But it wasn't fast enough for his liking. "So, you still try to resist the nightmares, how quaint. Let us see how you fare against my original distribution method."
Mr. Scary swiped across to briefly put the Dragon Fist at a distance as he then flung it towards the fighter like a massive boomerang. While he was occupied, Scary switched to his gas gun, and grabbed what appeared to be a dart from his pouch. With a turn and click from the barrel of the gun, Crane turned the gas gun into a dart gun. In quick, but calculated movements, he readied, aimed, and fired his dart straight into the bare chest of the Dragon Fist. Perhaps his choice of attire was unwise against this style of villain.
As the concentrated, liquid venom shot into Rand's blood, any chance at defending himself with chi flew out the window. Rand's slow, meditative, breaths turned short and rapid. His flaring fists fizzled out as he fell to his knees. The pure fear toxin instilled auditory hallucinations. He began hearing a cacophony of voices, telling him how much of a failure he was, how much he didn't deserve that power, that his life was a waste to the legacy of the Immortal Dragon Fist. It all came to a head as he realized he recognized the voices. They were that of his father, but not just him. It was his father, and all the Dragon Fists before him. All the forced negativities lead him to let out a horrified scream.
Mr. Scary basked in the martial artist's terror, laughing with twisted glee as his old ways proved to be more effective in this case, "I'm sorry for ever doubting you, dear pellets. You're an ever-vital part of my arsenal. The gas can only do so much.
"Talking to your toys again, Professor?" a voice chimed in before Crane looked across the hall to see the Jeweled Jester standing before him.
"Hello child, it's good to see you again. Your assistance has been greatly appreciated in furthering my experiments. I'm assuming Nygma was satisfied with my contributions?" Scary asked, referring to the inoculations he synthesized to defend against the Purple Joker's pheromones.
"Yeah, he's probably prepping everybody for Mistah P.J.'s return right now. Can't say I'm the biggest fan of it, but if they're willing to bust him out so he can be a part of their team, who am I to complain?" Joan commented as she looked around, "Anyway, what are you gonna do when you get outta here? You gonna be okay with Bats on your tail?"
Mr. Scary chuckled in response, "Dear girl, I will be just fine. With whatever the Legion has planned, Goth's Kitchen will be the least of his concerns," he said with sly confidence. "There will always be those who are interested in what I can create. I'm not sure what the Inquizitor has planned for Joker, but if he requires someone slinking in the shadows, well he'll always have a friend on the other side." As he answered, he walked past the reeling Dragon Fist to retrieve his scythe, embedded in the ground. "If you don't mind me asking, what will you be doing after this? What do Wesley and the nutjob with the horns have planned for you after springing Jack?"
The Jester shrugged, "He didn't say. If he needs me to bash some heads, I'll be…happy to oblige," she answered starting to question her love of violence. "But I'll be sharing a room with Joker again, and that's all I care about."
Mr. Scary noticed the crack in her resolve, intrigued at the idea of the effects of Joker's conditioning wearing off on their own over time, "Alright then. Well, if you're going to the bowels of the Asylum, take these." He reached into his belt and grabbed two syringes. One was filled with the usual phosphorus yellow of his fear toxin, while the other a neon green. The other syringe was full of Kingpain's venom. "Use the first one on the Bat, I whipped it up extra strong to use against him one day. Consider the other my last work for my employer. He's going to need that last kick to break the Bat one more time."
The Jester pulled a revolver from within her jacket. She pulled the trigger to reveal a flag with the word "BANG!" on it emerging from the barrel. After removing the flag, she put the venom syringe in its place. "I'll tell him you tender your resignation. Thanks Professor Crane!" she said in a bubbly voice.
"Take care of yourself, Dr. Quinzel. I am very curious to see what he does with you next," Scary commented before he scurried away from the general population wing and presumably towards whether the exit was. The Jester then fled towards the stairs to the maximum-security floor. She knew that place all too well, it was where she met her first love.
Meanwhile, on said maximum-security floor, the Blind Bat was still reeling from the effects of the Inquizitor's sonic weapon assaulting his communicator. He had since plucked it from his ear and crushed it under his boot. He had regained his senses, but the painful effects remained.
Once he regained his radar sense, he could see that while two of the cell doors had opened, only one of the inmates within had exit. With Bane's strength greatly neutered by the regulation of his Venom, he was quietly sitting on the bed in his cell. While disappointed he couldn't do it himself, he was content with watching as his loyal attack-dog Mr. Bullseye fight for him.
Zsasz had emerged from his cell, uncannily shimmying and struggling in his straitjacket. With all the time he had spent in that cell, he had gained some practice in that avenue. With some work, he broke free of the canvas bonds, and more importantly, the steel buckles.
In the hands of Dexter Zsasz, anything was a weapon. "I've been waiting to add your mark, Bat. It's a shame that it's going to be so mundane," he said with disappointment as he examined the unspectacular metal rectangle that was one of the buckles which held his bindings together.
"Go back to your cell, Zsasz. We know how this went last time," the Bat ordered as he readied his batons for a fight. Of all his foes, this was the man he considered an equal in terms of armed combat prowess and resourcefulness.
Zsasz first kept his distance as he used some of the buckles as makeshift shuriken. He was a nigh unrivaled marksman as he aimed for the unarmored face of the Blind Bat, pelting the metal flats straight across his cheeks.
The Blind Bat had to be quick before Zsasz could continue his barrage. But as he charged in with his batons, Zsasz began picking up small rocks and rapidly flicking them towards the Bat. Their speed and precision felt akin to bullets. The Bat had to then turn around and sweep his cape aside to absorb the pelting. It had been designed to be bulletproof, and it'd also prove useful against a man of Mr. Bullseye's caliber.
Zsasz grew annoyed and tore off the rest of his straitjacket and tore it to ribbons. The only portion left intact was the back containing the zipper and main lock. He then used the zipper as a last-second chain whip. He lashed at the Blind Bat, precisely whipping the zipper's lock to the side of the Bat's temple. But the Blind Bat proceeded to grab the end of the zipper whip and yanked Zsasz closer so he could start fighting up close.
The Bat started smacking and prodding across the serial killer's body. But Zsasz was all but numb to the pain as the sentimental strokes on his skin left him steeled by scar tissue. During this exchange, Zsasz then used the buckle to catch the tip of one of the batons and twisted it to leverage the weapon into Zsasz's hand amidst the commotion.
During the battle, the Purple Joker was in uproar with laughter as he watched Mr. Bullseye clash against his age-old foe. Joker had a professional respect for Zsasz's level of crazy. While he was still trapped in his cell, he might as well enjoy the show until somebody came along to bust him out.
With the two now equally armed, the fight was now a battle of who could use the baton better. This also gave the Blind Bat an advantage, now that Mr. Bullseye was fighting up close, he could apply his more versatile fighting techniques. The Bat fought off the maniac with flurry of punches and kicks, combining the agility of a ninja with the grit of a boxer. The baton he held was purely for defense against the on Zsasz had taken from him.
Zsasz fought back with ferocity as he managed to jab and prod the baton into the Blind Bat's armor. He knew this couldn't actually hurt him through the costume, but that wasn't the killer's goal. If he kept throwing the weapon against the Bat, something was sure to eventually break. And given the masochist's resilience, he could take enough punches and last long enough to finally shatter the redwood cane against the Blind Bat's chest plate. This turned the baton into something more akin to a shiv. "I'm going to gut you like a fish, Bat!"
As if he couldn't get more vicious, Zsasz began slashing and stabbing at the Blind Bat. The Bat once again tried to block the piercing attacks with his cape, pulling it in front of himself now. Zsasz was then forced to aim up and slashed the Bat across his jaw, drawing blood.
Blind Bat reeled from the initial sting, but by now, he was done playing around. Luckily, the baton he held in his position now was the half which carried his grapple. He fired off the hook, firing just over Zsasz's shoulder. The mangled murderer scoffed as he dodged, "You're slowing down, Blind Bat. Missed me by a country mile."
"I wasn't aiming for you, Dex. I'm just giving you one of your legal rights as an inmate here," the Bat said, giving a battered smirk of his own.
"What?" Zsasz asked, cocking an eyebrow.
"Your one free phone-call," the Blind Bat finished as he yanked the grapple back. The hook had collided into the Purple Joker's wall phone. The grapple's recoil pulled the whole phone right off the wall, and it slammed into the back of Zsasz's head. The impact knocked Mr. Bullseye out cold. The joke itself was corny, but the triumph that resulted earned a bit of levity.
After he dragged Zsasz back into his cell for the time being, Blind Bat leaned against the wall as he tried to recover from the fight he had just gone through. His face was badly cut, beaten, and bloody. The Purple Joker seemed to relish the sight of seeing the Bat so battered. Meanwhile the Kingpain seemed annoyed that Zsasz failed. The ex-crime boss approached the exit of his cell, but the Bat brandished his grappling baton towards Bane. "Stay back, Bane. Without your drugs, we both know how this would end."
Bane seethed with rage at being so limited in his current state. "You stand confident today, Mr. Blind Bat. But do you know what is happening above? How sure of your success can be for the others?" Bane asked, hoping that whatever the Blind Bat was hearing would reflect the paranoia he was trying to instill.
Bane was partially lucky. Things were a mixed bag. As the Blind Bat listened above, he could image out that Pupil had dissolved the Claymeleon and was currently fighting Mr. Scary near the exit. He then envisioned that most of the lesser villains were dealt with, and that Typhoid Ivy returned to her cell willingly after the commotion in her wing ended. But he also noticed that Lorna and Dragon Fist were taken down. Worst of all, he could hear the Jeweled Jester approaching.
His brief visage of confidence turned into that of worry. Zsasz was enough to put the Bato through the ringer already. The Jester wasn't quite as skilled, but she was strong enough to be worried about fighting in his current state. The Bat's expression was a combination of dread, but also deep regret. Dr. Joan Quinzel was someone Matthew Wayne had a deep respect for. They had similar goals to rid Goth's Kitchen of the criminally insane, but they operated in different but complimentary methods. Not being able to save her from the Purple Joker's mental mangling was the Blind Bat's greatest failures, and she was now up there amongst his more formidable foes.
The Purple Joker looked through the glass to see the Bat's brooding; he recognized that face. He let out another cackle, but because of the soundproofing, only the Blind Bat could hear it. "Oh, I know that look! My dear darling doll is on her way. I guess I'll bidding this cell adieu, Batsy!" He gloated as he rowdily pounded his fist against the glass.
The Blind Bat let out a heavy sigh as he turned around to face the door exiting the maximum-security chambers. It was a large, steel door, four inches thick, and sealed with a massive set of gears and tumblers akin to a bank vault. He stood behind it as the lone guard against the inevitable. This was the only way in or out of this part of the Asylum. If the Jeweled Jester was going to complete her objective.
He echolocated her position as she stood in the general population wing directly above them. The stairs weren't too far from her. She'd be down soon. The Bat was anticipating a climactic clash against the clown's concubine, but she remained in place. Blind Bat could hear the dropping of a few objects on the floor above them, and then noticed that she moved away from them. At that point, the Bat realized she wasn't going to be using the door.
Off went a loud explosion as the ceiling of the chamber burst apart and fell to the floor below. The new hammer and the signal jammer weren't the only toys supplied by Toymandarin. C4 explosives made from a compound not too dissimilar to Play-Doh were the cause of the dastardly demolition. Luckily, the bombs only broke apart the ceiling above the hallway between the cells, leaving Bane and Zsasz unharmed. Meanwhile Joker was applauding his dearest's grand entrance.
The Jeweled Jester leapt down from the floor above and gracefully landed atop the rubble which she created. "Howdy, Bats! I'm here for my conjugal visit!"
The ringing of the blast staggered the Bat, but he turned around, prepared to defend against Quinzel's assault. "I can't let you take him out of here, Joan."
Joan stared at the Bat with contempt and resentment in her eyes, "I'm afraid you ain't got a choice in the matter," she replied as she pulled her gun from her jacket. At first, she aimed it towards the Blind Bat, "Wesley sent me so we could make your life hell. You made my life hell when you took my Puddin' away from me. I've always had to fight for his attention against you!"
The Bat raised his hands in the air as she pointed the gun. He could probably dodge whatever she shot, but he was trying to stall for time until either Tim or Lorna got over and assist. "Joan, that isn't you talking. That's him. Joker doesn't love anyone except himself. You have always been nothing but a toy for him to exploit. None of this is worth it. Put the gun down, and maybe we can help you. You've seen what wonders the asylum has done for Ms. Isley. There's still hope for you, I know it."
He spoke in a calm, rational tone. The Bat believed in every word he said, at least he wanted to believe it. He wasn't sure whether or not Quinzel could actually be fully cured of her conditioning, but he was always going to try. Her mind had been through so much, it deserved justice just as much as anything else. The crusade for justice above all else was what the Blind Bat embodied most.
"You're the Bane of my existence, Blind Bat!" she proclaimed as he then stretched her arm to the side to aim the gun at Bane, still standing at the foot of his cell door, "So how about I make you deal with yours?" The Jester pulled the trigger and fired the Venom syringe right into Bane's chest. "That's one last hit of yer super steroids, coytesy of Lawrence Crane! Just enough to let you get nuts!"
Bane staggered back as the syringe pierced right into his chest. Quinzel hadn't considered that the syringe would then need to be pressed for the venom to enter his system. A lesser man would die on the spot, unable to trigger it themselves. Bane was not a lesser man. He mustered the strength to raise his arm and press the syringe's trigger, forcing the venom right into his bloodstream. He laughed dryly as he slowly returned to his feet and trudged out his cell door. "Oh, dear, Mr. Scary. I knew I could always rely on you."
The Blind Bat watched in horror as Wilson Bane's form stretched and reformed back into the Kingpain he knew and hated. His proportions bulged and burst into the frame of the seven-foot hulking monster that broke the Bat once before. Arms grew to the thickness of tree trunks as his shoulders widened to that of a small car. Bane ripped the respirator off his mouth, taking the first breath of air under his own power for a long time.
He raised his batons to challenge Bane, but the mountain range of a man simply laughed, "Stay back, Bat. We both know how this is going to end," he said mockingly mirroring the same words the Bat'd just told him. The Kingpain cracked his knuckles, the sound like firecrackers, and then he charged at the Blind Bat with the force of a semi-truck.