Dawn broke over Goth's Kitchen, right before all Hell would break loose. The Blind Bat and Pupil stood at the entrance of Ryker's Asylum. They weren't sure who or what was coming, but they knew it was happening today. Leland Cobblepot, the Kiwi, was quick to sell out his old coworker Nygma if that meant getting the Bat off his back. The intel provided was that he'd tracked down the Jeweled Jester, and he was planning on sending her to bust out the Purple Joke on this date.
Now one would probably ask in this situation, "Why would Nygma even tell Cobblepot all of this? The two weren't exactly close under Kingpain's employ. This could all easily be a diversion so that we lower our guard." And that is precisely what Pupil asked the Bat when they arrived.
"Nygma is one of the most brilliant minds in the world, but he is also one of the most arrogant people in the world. He constantly needs the affirmation of others to tell him how smart he is. He also thought so little of Kiwi, that nothing he told him would have any consequence," the Bat explained. The Blind Bat always recognized Nygma's potential as a supervillain, but he was also aware how his own ego would always hold him back. And for that, he was lucky.
Pupil looked around the outside of the Asylum; he was antsy at the thought of guarding the entire place with just the two of them. "Backup is on its way, right? I just don't want to get overrun today incase things go as bad I think they might." Tim Summers was a bit of a worrier. As smart as he was, he often overthought about the potential of things going dreadfully awry.
The Blind Bat placed a reassuring hand on his ward's shoulder, "Relax, Pupil. It's not just us. We'll shut down the breakout, no problem. We'll make sure when we take Quinzel, she gets the treatment she needs. And nobody, especially not Joker, is getting out of here." The Bat spoke with confidence, but a hint of doubt lay in the back of his mind.
The Bat put two fingers to the communicator in his cowl, "Sibyl, what's the ETA on Polar Blade and the others?" he asked.
Across town, within the Blind Bat's secret lair, the Batacombs, sat a woman in a wheelchair, operating a large computer. She had strawberry blonde hair and large, square-framed spectacles. This was Karen Gordon, Matthew Wayne's legal secretary. While she once fought alongside the Blind Bat as the Guardian Angel, an injury put upon her by the Purple Joker rendered her much less mobile. Nowadays, she serves as Goth's Kitchen's intelligence operative, going by the moniker Sibyl, named for the ancient Greek oracle. Gordon sat behind the scenes, seeing all, and providing all the necessary information the Blind Bat, Pupil, or any of the local vigilantes of nearby territories would require.
"Cage and Fist are still a few minutes out, heavy traffic on McBeal Street really slowed them down. Seems like something fell apart after Stark left that place a mess four nights ago. I've personally never liked him much, far too unreliable," Karen assessed with a dry sass.
"Come on, he tries his best. Cut him some slack. He made me my visor that keeps me from destroying everything with my eyes; that's been pretty reliable," Tim quickly came to the Cyberman's defense over comms. "Anyway, who's Polar Blade? And why does that sound so familiar?"
From the roof of the Asylum, the green cloaked figure jumped down in front of the Blind Bat and Pupil. "Sorry, I forgot to mention that she was already here," Sybil interjected over comms. The Blind Bat seemed to already sense her presence and wasn't shocked at all. Pupil recognized her as the robber from the museum and went to put his fingers to his visor to open the lenses to unleash an optic blast. But the Blind Bat grabbed his hand before he could, "Hold your horses, kid. She's with us. I hired her for her services last night. She can be trusted."
Tim was unsure at first, but eventually extended out his hand to shake, "Hi, no hard feelings about the lasering, right?"
Lorna cracked a smile and shook his hand, "I'll just take that memory as a reminder not to steal your glasses next time we fight," she answered humbly. She respected the kid's power and thought it wise not to keep him on edge around her.
The Bat handed Lorna an earpiece to patch her into Sybil, "You and Pupil will be on the Intermediate Security floor. There are other orderlies stationed throughout the Asylum, we're just here to support if things get out of hand today. This place runs like clockwork when it comes to breakouts. We're here to skip the hands past the chime. If any non-powered inmates escape, subdue, don't harm. Only use your powers if they have any. And non-lethal force, only. These are people who can better themselves. Don't take away their chance at redemption."
Lorna took her sheathed blade from within her cloak. With a flick of her wrist, the golden etchings on the scabbard peeled off it and wrapped themselves around the cross-guard of the katana. The blade was now stuck inside the scabbard, now a simple blunt weapon, incapable of deadly force without an extreme level of effort. "I follow your creed out of respect, but I respectfully disagree. Redemption is a choice, and the worst of them never chooses it. Evil exists in this city, and I'm helping you keep it from getting out of here."
The Blind Bat let out a heavy sigh. He didn't have the spare energy to argue with her right now, "Okay, fine. As long as you don't kill anyone, I guess you're alright. This is a hospital; injuries can be treated." He directed his attention back to his woman in the chair, "Sybil, ETA?"
"Cage and Fist will be here in three…two…" Sybil counted down before she was cut off by the sound of a car horn. "Sorry, I seemed to be a second off. The WiFi must be a little slow. Even Stark's satellites are unreliable," she added dryly.
In the parking lot of the Asylum, a bronze muscle car pulled up. Out of it stepped two gentlemen. One was a massive, muscle-bound, bald, black man with a goatee beard. He wore a dirty yellow hoodie covered in brown stripes, with a tiger stripe pattern on the fringes. On his hands were a pair of brass knuckles.
This was Luke Bronze, otherwise known as the Caged Tiger. Paired with indestructible skin, Luke was an expert fighter. Him and the Blind Bat had met while training in their younger days under the deadly Madame Shiva. Luke was the hero of Harlem, but that didn't mean he wouldn't also be a hero for hire, particularly for an old friend. "Sorry we're late B.B., you know traffic in this city. I guess that's why you ditched that stupid Batmobile," he said with a chuckle as he joined the other three.
"Also, the fact he can't drive, Luke. He can't read road signs or traffic lights," the other passenger of the car said matter-of-factly as he exited. The man was of Asian descent, and a great deal younger than the Bat and Luke, but older than Lorna. He was shirtless, but he wore the lower half of a green gi with a black belt holding it up. A yellow bandanna covered the top half of his face as white eyes pierced through it. Across his chest was a large black tattoo of a simplified dragon. He carried an air of stoicism and discipline as he approached the Tiger and the others.
This was Richard Rand Jr., Luke Bronze's partner in the hero-for-hire business. His father had been another student that the Bat and Tiger had trained with. He was another extremely skilled combatant and carried the soul of a dragon within him. With that, his title was-
"The Immortal Dragon Fist lives? I am honored to be graced by your return," Lorna interrupted me as she recognized the mark of the dragon. She bowed to him out of respect. The swordswoman was overjoyed to see another hero from her homeland standing before her. The Dragon Fist was a title held by a renown martial artist from Tibet. One of such title had come to Japan to aide their heroes in defending against Morb Death Man, but he had tragically fallen.
Rand returned the gesture, "The fist survived, the mortal did not. I inherited this power after my father was slain," he explained solemnly.
Lorna smiled, "He and all the others have been avenged. The monster sits entombed at the bottom of the harbor.
Rand looked to the Bat with some shock, only for the Bat to return the look with a nod of confirmation. "This shall please the elders," he said with a slight sense of unease. His father was avenged by someone else, and he could not take vengeance for himself. Beneath his humility, Richard was almost embarrassed. To take his mind off that feeling, Rand then took notice of Lorna's weapon, "I recognize that scabbard, that wouldn't happen to be the Polar Blade?" he asked inquisitively.
"Yes, passed down to me by the previous wielder: my mother," Lorna answered with pride. Her mother had also been a very minor hero in her own right in Japan. Rand only recognized the weapon because of the extensive research he had done while training.
"Well, it's always good to see the mantles live on. The souls of all who bore them before us live within them. Let's make them proud today," Rand said pounding his fists together.
Luke scoffed, "Whatever, you got our payment, Bats?" he asked. His priorities were in order.
"The check is in the mail, Tiger. I'd hate for the income for your work today to not be properly taxed. We both know you can't handle another bout with the IRS," the Bat answered with a rare hint of snark.
"We just got the damn trademark," Luke grumbled before pushing his way through the Asylum doors. "Let's just take our stations. Where are me and Ricky gonna be?"
"Tiger, you'll be on the top floor guarding the monitor room and lab facilities. Dragon will take over the general population wing. I'll take the basement with maximum security. I'm the only one who can resist Joker's pheromones," the Bat explained as he and the others filed inside.
The inside of the Asylum was pristine, clean, and relatively orderly. This was partially because of the relatively clean and pristine orderlies. While not the wealthiest themselves, Wayne and Grayson convinced their few high-profile clients to invest money into the Asylum's renovation. It wasn't going to be the revolving door for criminals it used to be under Bane's control of the city anymore. The Blind Bat was going to keep Goth's Kitchen's most heinous from harming others or themselves at all costs.
A thousand miles away across the Atlantic Ocean flew the facsimile of our faithful Asgardian. Beta Ray Zero shot across the sky like a big, indigo comet. And in his clutch was the fair Joan Quinzel, the Jeweled Jester. He was ordered by Loxxi Luthorson to take Quinzel to Ryker's Asylum, observe from high above to make sure things don't go wrong, and fly the Joker back to the Legion headquarters. But if things were to go wrong and Joan were to fail, to not interfere as to not attract Thunderman. Obviously, the orders were given in the confusing backwards talk that Bezarro could process.
Quinzel was the henchwoman and "bride" of sorts to the Purple Joker. One could guess the queen theming was meant to work with a playing card motif she could share with the Joker. She knew Ryker's Asylum well, as she once worked there as a doctor, intent on studying him. Now she was going back to her old place of work to break out her beloved. Although, the nature of their relationship was quite sinister.
Bezarro was aware of the person they were going to release. Loxxi and the Purple Joker had worked together once. The clown had tried to force Bezarro to kill his creator. Loxxi only survived because of his backwards language processing. He didn't like Purple Joker, but he knew Loxxi needed a wild card. If he pleased his creator, then he would get his reward.
Joan absent-mindedly dangled her legs while Bezarro carried her. In her hand was a new mallet designed by the Toymandarin for her to fight off the Bat and his friends. Inside the head of the mallet were a few extra functionalities which would prove helpful later. She didn't pay much attention to the grander scheme the Legion had planned. All she was conditioned to care about was saving Joker.
The Purple Joker had the ability to dispense pheromones from his body which would allow him to control people's actions. Joan's time as his psychologist let the clown gradually dose her with a very high concentration of his pheromones so that she was always loyal and loving to him regardless of time or distance away. Further experimentation with other chemicals and steroids had even given her enhanced strength to let her serve as a more capable henchwoman.
The two had been relatively quiet during their flight, and it was starting to get a tad awkward. So, Beta Ray Zero started to try and make conversation, emphasis on trying. "So…Purple Man, him good?" he asked slowly, usually not one to initiate scenarios like this. He was actually asking if she didn't like working for Joker.
The Jester was amused by the monster's question, "Oh he's the total best. I love being with him. Mistah PJ makes me feel like I'm "poifect", and with him I am," she answered like a lovestruck schoolgirl. That's the kind of person the Joker had shaped her into being.
There wasn't much beneath the surface of Joan Quinzel. The once brilliant mind was in a constant haze from all the Joker's toxin in her system. One could describe it as the lights were on, someone was home, but they were knocked out as a little robotic vacuum was rolling around inside. Any behavior was mentally programmed in by her puppeteer while her brain was on autopilot.
Had she been aware, Quinzel would probably despise the Purple Joker for using her body as a glorified toy, but who could say how she truly felt? But through the strange double-negative of telling Bezarro the opposite of what one would consider a sensible response given the situation, he somewhat understood. It took a lot of hard concentration to try and make the words come out the right way, but he gave an empathetic response. "Joker once try make Bezarro…kill father. Me no like him. Me no want to save him. Me think…you no want to either."
The Jester on the outside seemed to ignore them, giving another vapid giggle. It didn't seem like she was listening. Anything negative said about the Joker made her tune out. "You're a real idiot, aren't you, Horsey," she asked sarcastically, "My only purpose, my whole reason for existing, is only Purple Jokah. So no, I'm busting him out." Quinzel said with a sharp tone. Beta Ray Zero seemed disheartened by her response, remaining quiet for another few minutes.
Then, just for a moment, a shred of lucidity returned to Quinzel. Someone showing a semblance of concern or care for her seemed to awaken something. Her expression softened as she restarted the conversation. "But uh, if we're talkin' about this stuff, what is it that you want?" she asked curiously. Joker didn't program her to be curious.
Bezarro didn't have to think hard about what to say to that, "Me want to be Thunderman. Me want to fight for lies, injustice, and worser yesterday," he paused after hearing what he just said, "But…me not think good. Words come in forwards. Father say he fix me. But why he make me broken?" he lamented as they neared the Asylum. "All Bezarro do is to help Father do good. Make him ashamed of me. But does father hate me?"
Joan felt a twinge of sympathy for Bezarro. That was also new. She reached up to give him a gentle caress of his face. His skin felt like broken marble. "We're a lot alike, aren't we?" she asked rhetorically. "We both wanna do everythin' we can to please the people who made us. But it never feels like we're enough. I guess they didn't make us very well."
Bezarro was quiet, but it was just him focusing hard to process everything correctly. "Thank you. Funny head girl Bezarro…friend," he remarked as soon arrived at the edge of Goth's Kitchen. They stopped as they hovered right over the roof of the Asylum. He dropped her onto the roof as the Jeweled Jester landed gracefully. "Well, bad luck. Father tell me to leave until you fail."
The Jester was reminded of her mission and snapped back into her old mindset. Her loyalty to her lover was her top priority. But, Joan took some solace in the fact that despite being a slave to the whims of Joker, she made a friend. "Thanks B-Z. If I don't see ya, you can't rely on Baldy to fix you. You gotta fix yerself." She called up to him before getting to work.
Upon the roof of the Asylum was an air duct which hypothetically could allow access into the building. That would be if ventilation ducts were actually as large as movies and such would suggest, as they are in fact far too narrow for a person to crawl through. Luckily, there was a door on the roof that led to a staircase downstairs which would more than suffice. The Jeweled Jester slammed the door down with her hammer and barged her way onto the third floor of the Asylum.
Before she left for the Asylum, the Inquisitor gave her a plan of attack to ensure the largest amount of chaos possible with her presence. First, she needed to shut down communication with Sybil. The Jester ran towards the security room so she could access the Asylum computers. There, she could use a signal jammer given to her by Toymandarin to jam all radio frequencies coming in and out of the vicinity. While she hopped and pranced around the Asylum, she swung her hammer at the various security cameras, destroying them with a heavy swing each.
On her way, she would be faced with a pair of burly orderlies dressed in all white. They would try to tackle and restrain her, but she managed to outmaneuver them. With a few well-placed blows with her hammer, they were down for the count. "Sorry boys, only Joker gets to hold me down like that."
Back in the Batacombs, Sybil watched as each of those cameras were knocked out by the Jester. She patched into Luke's frequency to send him her way. "Tiger, Joker's thrall is here. Keep her out of the security room."
Luke Bronze had been flirting with some nurses in the medical wing before Sybil called; he didn't seem to be phasing them with his blunt, Harlem charm. "Yeah, yeah. You got it. That half-bit harlequin won't know what hit her!" The Tiger cracked his knuckles, slipped on his brass knuckles, and ran to the other end of the floor to intercept the knuckleheaded ne'er-do-well.
The control room was in her sight, but standing in her way was the just arrived Caged Tiger. The large man marveled at her curious attire, "Well, aren't you a colorful character." He then put his finger to his communicator, "Sybil, she's in sight, alert the others."
Unfortunately, the only thing Luke heard in response was static. The Jester had held out the head of her hammer towards the Caged Tiger, the signal jammer was currently active from inside it. Toymandarin had only had Loxxi's resources for less than a day, but he had already thrown together some impressive gadgets. "Sorry, Kitty. You're on your own for this one."
She then swiftly sprinted towards the Tiger with her hammer, ready to strike. She leapt up and slammed the mallet against Luke's head, only for it to harmlessly bounce off his impenetrable body. The hammer, despite looking wooden, made a metallic clang against the unbreakable skin. She was strong, but that was nothing to Luke's durability. He looked at the Jester unimpressed, "All I need is me, Miss Mime." The bronze behemoth then jabbed his fist into the Jester and sent her flying across the hall.
With a quick recovery, Quinzel continued her clash with Cage. She had the grace of a gymnast as she danced and twirled around the Tiger. He'd throw heavy-handed haymakers, but she'd bob and weave out of the way. She'd land a few hits with her hammer, but they hardly harmed him. But they did manage to push him back, if not just a little bit. The Jeweled Jester knew she couldn't take the indestructible man in a head-to-head fight. She had to incapacitate him another way. So, she started running away from the Caged Tiger, and headed towards the medical wing of the Asylum.
The Tiger chased after her until they arrived at a currently empty therapy room. Through a labyrinth of hallways, the Jester led him around like the Minotaur. The room she eventually reached was sterilized, full of fluorescent lights, and in the middle of the room was an operating table surrounded by electrical equipment. This room was used for administering electro-convulsion therapy. Luke didn't know that immediately, as he was unfamiliar with what that kind of equipment would look like. But Quinzel knew.
The Jester led Luke towards the unused setup. He was still intent on taking her down with brute force, "Come on Jewel, just let this whole thing with the clown go, and go down easy. I'd hate to bruise that pretty face and make you use more white paint on your face than a picket fence."
"You think I'm pretty?" the Jester asked, flattered, before he grabbed a handful of electrodes attached to wires along with a roll of duct tape. "Sorry, but I prefer grape, not chocolate."
A bit shaken by the odd comment, he paused. Recomposing himself, he went to grab the Jeweled Jester. While she dodged and maneuvered away as expected, she began subtly sticking the electrodes across his arms and forcing them to stick by securing them with duct tape. She jumped on top of Luke's shoulders and stuck one more on his forehead. "I've seen 'em do this a few times to the other patients. I gotta say, I love the light show." Quinzel pounced off of the Caged Tiger and hit the button on the battery cart to send thousands of volts into the hero-for-hire.
The electricity coursed straight through his rock-hard skin and lit up the rest of body like a Christmas tree. Given the controlled dosages that ECT is meant to distribute, Luke would live, but he was down for the count. Once the shocks subsided, a fried Tiger looked at the Jester in bewilderment, "Sweet Christmas…" he mused. Quinzel gently tapped the Caged Tiger with the head of her mallet, watching him topple over onto the operating table, fainting. Quinzel hoisted her hammer over her shoulders and gingerly strolled towards the security room.
Meanwhile, in the intermediate security wing, Lorna and Tim patrolled. This area primarily contained the various villains the Blind Bat faced who had superhuman powers. The wing had a common area with a few couches and a television playing some schlocky public access network show. Potted plants decorated the area as the whole place radiated an air of tension.
Pupil strolled past the cells with a feeling of unease, paying close attention to the inmates in their cells and the orderlies and security also patrolling the area. He examined every little detail he could find that could pose a danger to the point of paranoia. Conversely, Lorna was standing still in the middle of the room, a watchful statue of sorts. She was at the ready to attack anything that came at her. Many of the roamers gave the swordswoman concerned looks, unfamiliar with the ominous cloaked figure.
"Move along, citizens. I am of no concern to you if you are not to me," she declared in an authoritative tone. "Just stay out of my way."
Pupil noticed the way she interacted with them and decided to involve himself. He ran to the center of the room and gave her a tap on the shoulder. "You know, you could be a little more friendly. A lot of the patients here aren't particularly violent. Ryker's also houses regular people who just need a little help," he explained.
"Then why keep them in the same place as the plagues upon your society? It's a disaster waiting to happen," Lorna replied with skepticism in her voice. Despite her respect for the Blind Bat imbued upon her by her father, she still had a lot of questions about how he operated in this city. Putting all the most dangerous criminals in a hospital didn't make a lot of sense to her.
"Bats is a heavy believer in redemption. Nobody is too far gone to the point that they can't be brought back to the light. That's what he wants to do for the city. This Asylum used to just be the holding place before the villains go back out to commit more crimes. But, with new doctors, therapies, and definitely better security, the patients sent here now have time to actually work on themselves. Even the guys who really don't deserve it, he gives them a chance," Tim answered with a slight hint of resentment at that last sentence.
"But what about the worst of them?" Lorna asked, "I've heard the stories about the Smiling Violet and the Target Man."
Tim took a moment to figure out who she was referring to, "Oh, those guys. Yeah. Even if they aren't ever gonna change, Bats still believes all lives are worth preserving."
"Your teacher's mission, do you believe in it?" Lorna asked as she examined her sheathed blade while leaning against the wall.
Pupil paused before he answered, "I believe in his heart, and that's enough for me." Tim then looked over to Lorna, "I owe my life to the Blind Bat. He took me in after my folks died. He's been training me to one day take his place, to protect Goth's Kitchen just as he does. I don't know if I want to do that. There are my own battles I want to fight. But I owe it to him, after all he's done for me, to see this fight until the end."
Lorna gave a brief, "Hm," in response to his answer. She respected his sense of honor and duty. "What about the rest of the League? Do you hold them in the same regard?" Bitterness lay subtle in her tone. She wanted to understand how someone who fought crime closer to the ground perceived the ones in the floating ivory tower.
Tim didn't know Lorna's situation. The Bat didn't think it relevant to tell him any of the details. He just knew she was a weirdly stoic swordfighter with magnesis. But given her powers, he had his suspicions. "Well, it's a mixed bag, really. A lot of them have changed since the Compass died," he answered, dodging her initial question. "I met him a lot of times. When I was younger, the Bat would leave me with him when he did more dangerous missions on his own. He'd talk to me a lot about the future, no duh. Fate would teach me how to anticipate the future in little ways, and how to always know how things could go wrong. It made me a better tactician, maybe at the cost of my peace, but I think it was worth it." Tim explained as his eyes darted around the room behind his visor. His worrying wasn't simple paranoia, but a teaching imbued upon him by a respected mentor.
"But more importantly, he taught me to be proud of being a Metamutant. He cared a lot about guys like us. It was our fate to guide and cultivate this world, to be its Titans. Shame he won't get to see it." Tim lamented the loss of the Fatal Compass. He also noticed how Lorna seemed genuinely sad when he talked about him. "What about you? What do you think of the League?" He turned her initial question back on her, despite never answering it to begin with. Pupil knew what she really wanted was to vent her frustrations with them for whatever reason.
Lorna hadn't seen through his manipulation and answered, "They're inefficient. All their resources, all their power, all their posturing, and they couldn't stop Ghanoseid without sacrificing my fa-," she paused before she exposed her true relationship to Fate, "without sacrificing the Fatal Compass. A man of his contributions to the world deserved to die peacefully, not in battle."
Pupil all but knew the situation by now. It was pretty clear who she was to him by now, but he agreed with her. "Yeah, an eighty-year career while raising a kid or three on the side could not have given him a lot of time to just live. And that sucks." Tim paused, "But that's the job. As long as there's evil, guys like us have to fight it. They stand on the pedestal because they had to knock someone else who didn't deserve to be there off of it." He responded to Lorna's distaste for the League's "posturing", the fame that came with being a worldwide hero.
Lorna had a lot to think about with Tim's answers. It was nice to know there was someone else apart of her generation that knew him well. She appreciated the perspective, but still had her opinions. Although, she wouldn't be able to absorb it at the moment, as Sybil chimed in through their communicators.
"Everyone stay alert, Quinzel is here, and Cage is down! Security is compromised," she announced.
Tim had a panicked look on his face upon hearing that, "Should we go get him? We can't just leave him up there."
"No, stand your grounds. He'll be okay. Sybil, any idea where she's going next," Blind Bat asked, trying to maintain calm.
"She's going to-," however inconveniently, or conveniently depending on your perspective, Karen was cut off before she could answer. All the communicators then started playing "Spanish Flea", a song typically associated with technical difficulties in broadcast. It seemed Winwu had a sense of humor when it came to designing the signal jammer.
Pupil started repeatedly tapping his earpiece, "Sybil, what's that noise? Sybil, come in!" he yelled, starting to panic. "Blind Bat, Dragon Fist, come in!" his eyes darted around the facility, awaiting some disaster to happen.
His anticipation was realized as all the cell doors around them began to slide open simultaneously. Various inmates began to wander out of their rooms. Tim and Lorna stayed still and just watched. The former paralyzed with fear, but the latter in reserved observation.
Over in the general population wing, the Dragon Fist experienced the same thing. His demeanor was peaceful as he called out to all the inmates to remain calm and stay in their rooms while the figured out what to do. At this point, many of the patients who weren't especially criminally minded followed instructions. But there were so many people that it was difficult to corral the masses.
Amidst the commotion of the currently calm exodus, one wiry patient slipped out of the crowd and towards a large door labeled "VAULT". The lanky ginger-haired gentleman was Dr. Lawrence Z. Crane. Nygma's man on the inside to help turn this simple security breach into a full-blown riot. The vault door was unlocked, just the same as every other door on this floor; it was a part of the overrides Quinzel was performing up in the security room.
The man aliased Mr. Scary scampered into the vault to see shelves, racks, and crates full of confiscated equipment from almost all the Bat's enemies over the years. Upon very brief searching, as he was only recently committed, he found the crate storing his gear. A raspy "Excellent," crept out from his lips as they curled into a nightmarish grin.
Crane threw on his charcoal grey cloak, slipped on black leather gloves, and put on a ghoulish-looking gas mask. The face was shaped like a skull as two filters protruded out from the jaw, and yellow eyes glowed from behind the lenses. Mr. Scary retrieved a large cannister of his patented Fear Toxin and strapped it to his back. Tubes extended off the cannister and into a handcrafted gas gun. Lastly, he withdrew a large scythe from the crate. The finished ensemble made him look like Death herself. But in terms of striking terror into the inmates of Ryker's Asylum, his chemicals would be doing more work than his visage.
Crane had arranged with Nygma a week prior to his incarceration to orchestrate this breakout. The bad doctor wanted to test his fear toxin upon a massive crowd of people, all at once. He was obsessed with seeing people in abject horror, it pleased him to no end. The Inquisitor's plan would provide his frightful colleague with the opportunity, and in turn give Quinzel the opportunity to break out the Purple Joker. "Gas gun provides suboptimal distribution. I require widespread inoculation," Mr. Scary mused to himself before seeing an air vent in the ceiling of the room.
The ceiling was very high; simply shooting the gun into the air wouldn't get the proper air flow. He needed a way up there. Doctor Crane looked around the vault until he found another box containing exactly what he needed. They were a pair of hydraulic telescopically extending stilts, once belonging to Wilbur Wesker: the Puppeteer of Don Pinocchio. "Vertical mobility acquired."
Crane equipped the stilt boots and positioned himself beneath the vent. With a stomp of his feet, the stilt legs extended fifteen feet high. He was finally close enough to release his gas. A sinister cackle emerged from beneath his gas mask. "This is where the fun begins," was the last thing he said before he pulled the trigger, and wrought chaos upon Ryker's Asylum.