#11: From the Pit, Pt 1 (HoM / Tupper)

Twenty minutes ago, Wayne Manor:

“The Riddler. Killer Croc. Mad Hatter. Cornelius Stirk.” He read off the list of names, scrolling down the folder, the records informed him who was in Arkham and who wasn’t. Months ago the Asylum rioted, people escaped, and they hadn’t resurfaced, yet. He’d heard rumblings that Croc never left, that The Riddler was creating his most mind bending, thought provoking scheme yet, with the answer to the riddle always the same: ‘The Death of the Batman’. Or maybe the slight variation of the first, a new favourite of Nigmas, ‘Who is The Batman?’ Either way, the result is the same. His fist connected with Edward’s glass jaw, and his enemy’s green jacket stained with blood. They’ve done this dance many a time, and it always ended exactly the same way. But there are always variables.

“A Miss Vale on the line for you, Sir.” Bruce turned from his work and smiled, a worthy distraction at last. “Will you be taking it?”

“Of course Alfred, put her through.” He pressed a button on the bat cave computer and began to speak. “Vicki.” He coughed suddenly, the growl he reserved for his Batman identity slightly crept into to his normal tone. “Vicki! To what do I owe this pleasure?”

Vicki laughed. “I thought I’d call you, and knowing my luck I thought you’d be busy in the Jacuzzi or at Wayne Enterprises… But here I am, talking to you…” Bruce could tell how awkward Vicki felt, as he felt it as well. Whenever someone called the Manor he had Alfred give them some shoddy excuse so he could resume whatever he’s doing in the cave.

“I know what you mean, but yeah, here you are. Me… I’m here too!” He laughed as he turned to Alfred, who stood there and vaguely listened in on the conversation. “Did you want to talk about something?” He ushered him away with his free hand and shook his head.

“Oh, well… I thought if you were interested… My niece is in a play over at her school, and I thought you might…” She trailed off, thinking about her words. “Nah, it really doesn’t matter.”

“A play?” Bruce smiles. “I’d love to. When?”

Vicki pauses for a moment, surprised at his answer. “Well, it’s on Friday, at her school. They decided to celebrate the reopening of its new auditorium with a production of what… I… I forgot to ask! I didn’t think that far ahead!” She laughed uncomfortably. “To be honest, I though you might be flying to Taiwan or wherever you go when I can’t get a hold of you or maybe those were excused you used to cover your, other activities…”

Bruce blushed faintly and paused and rested his free hand on the computer console. “I’m sorry Vicki, I would really love to. I’ll call you later to sort things out, but Alfred has just informed me that there’s someone at the door, I have to go.”

“Of course Bruce, of course… Well thanks.”

He disconnected the phone and smiled slightly. “Who’s at the door, Sir?” he turned at the Alfred’s voice.

Bruce’s eyes darken as he picked up his black cowl. “I think you know.” He pointed to the computer screen. “Time for patrol.”

Alfred nodded and picked up the yellow utility belt and handed it to Bruce. “Of course.”

Five hours ago, in Arkham Asylum, outside the cell of a madman:

“No pens, no nail files, no pencils, no pencil sharpeners, no erasers (yes, he killed a guard with one by inserting it in his- Well, you really don’t need to know that), no clothing, no nothing, alright? No buttons, no flies, and that… Is the reason we had to strip search you Ms…”

She shook her head and recalled the guard’s rough, uncaring hands. “Head.”

The director of the institute smiled as she walked in front of him. He lagged behind and watched her walk away, a juvenile smirk on his lips as she strolled onward.
“Nice…” He spoke and she quickly turned, her eyes burned through him. “…That you can visit after injecting such funds into our establishment.”

“It is my pleasure, Director Niles.” Her glare turned to a smile. “I want to see the prisoner alone, do you understand?”

Niles looked at her for a moment. “Ah, Ms Head, that isn’t allowed by the rules and regulations put forward…”

She rolled her eyes and put her hand on his chest, her eyes narrowing slightly as she does so. “How long have you been Director of the Asylum, Mr Niles?”

“Uh, eight… Eight months Ms Head.”

“And I have just, as you said, injected such funds into the establishment, I, as your new investor and overall boss, would appreciate it if you would stay outside whilst I talk to the prisoner or…” She played with the word as it left her mouth. “I could find a director, equally qualified… or not… and replace you, and then have the rules I think would suit the asylum, introduced.” She smirked and moved her hand down his chest, and then played with his belt, causing him to blush. “But I wouldn’t want to do that, Mr Niles, and it would grievance me to do so.”

“I’ll wait outside. I don’t want to upset you any more so than we have already with keeping your… bodyguard at checkpoint…”

“He’ll be fine. He follows orders well. You just wait here.” She smiled and pulled his key card from his neck, dragging him along with it, and pushing it through the slot causing the door to open with a metallic hiss. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

She quietly closed the door. “Barbarians.” She spoke under her breath as she turned a switch, forcing the dimly lit room to fill with sterile white light. A naked man stood behind a layer of thick glass, sealed except for two air holes in one of the corners. “Victor.” She directed toward him.

The man examined her for a moment, and then rolled his finger over his tongue and then down his arm. The notches up and down his skin had been made with expert precision. He moved toward her, all skin and bones. His eyes dark and lifeless, like a wraith, his hair long and flowing and a beard growing out from his jaw. “Zombie.” He placed his hand against the glass and smiled, and then tilted his head. “Are you the sacrifice they send to sate my infernal hunger?” He motioned to his arms. “I’ve had a dry spot. Are they trying to ease my suffering?”

“Victor Zsasz. Serial killer, responsible for hundreds or murders, and after each one your cut a tally mark into your own skin.” She stated. “I’m not here to ease your suffering. I’m not here to sate your infernal hunger.”

He smiled and pushed his long flowing hair behind his face, his dark eyes exposed to the light. But even in the sterile environment of the cell, they still seemed like dark little dots. “You’ll have to excuse my appearance, the guards don’t allow my hair to be cut.” He raked his long fingernails against the glass wall, the dark smile still on his face. “But I think it builds character.”

Ms Head smiled, and found a white plastic seat attached to the wall behind her, and sat in it. “Builds character? Some say what you do destroys character…” She paused. “Oh wait… No, you just kill people.”

“I’d kill you without blinking, zombie.” He nodded and then turned his back on her, his long hair flowing down his back, obscuring more of his scars. “I’d kill you for disrespecting me. I’d kill for a haircut… I’d kill… to be out of here. But mainly… I’d kill you without blinking… Corpse.”

“So forgive me for not walking over to your cell and opening it. Because, you know… You’d kill me.” She smirked.

“You think you’re funny on that side of the glass, don’t you. But come here, into my world, and I’ll show you what I’m capable of. Little zombies. Little zombies walking around with their living disease…” He sniffed the air. “Humanity. Wait…” He sniffed the air again, and took his time. “I apologise for going Hannibal Lecter on you, zombie… but I don’t smell humanity on you at all… I smell death… Pestilence… Are you curing yourself of humanity?”

“No. But I want your help.” She smiled again, and slowly moved her fingernail down her forearm, causing Victor’s eyes to widen. She bled slightly as her skin parted. She winced slightly as she pulled something from beneath her flesh.

“You…” He smiled from beneath his beard. “You two face.”

She sneered at him and licked the globules of blood from her wound, which were already closing inhumanely fast. “Fake epidermis.” She held in her hand a thin rod of a metallic substance. “Escape.”

His eyes widened even more as she moved towards the two air holes in the glass, and dropped the small rod into his cell. He looked at it for a moment, and then backed up toward her. “The cameras…”

“Are disabled for another… Five hours. That’s a five-hour window, Mr Zsasz. Use it.” The device began to spread and grow, until it resembled a knife.

“Oh… My.” He scrambled over to the weapon and felt its warm touch against his naked flesh. He nearly orgasmed with joy. “What is this?”

“Nano-technology. It’ll open your cell door and allow you to escape into the night… but it also is a weapon. Silent, balanced, precision.”

“What do you want, zo…miss?”

She smiled, her eyes burned. “Havoc. Chaos. Gotham in turmoil. You might want to cut your hair too. You stand out like a sore thumb.”

He examined his naked body. “It might be the numbers… They fill me up inside, fill me up, up, up…” He smiled. “I won’t kill you, miss. You are my herald!”

Ms Head stood up and turned toward the door. “Right.” She opened it and left the raggedy man in his cell, to plot his escape.

Now, on the top of the Gotham City Police Department Building:

Batman walked out of the shadows of the building, the light flickered on the clouds and the man next to the large signal not moving. “You.”

“Me.” The Dark Knight seems to float toward him, his cape draped over his shoulders; the jagged edges ran down to his feet. “Surprise!”

. “What do you think you’re doing here, Vic?” He looked at the faceless man in the trench coat and fedora. “Last time we spoke…”

“I was on the road.” He explained as he looked out to the city. “But now I’m off it.” He turns back to the caped crusader and shrugs. “You probably might want to talk to Alfred right now.”

“What do you...” Batman began to say before he put two fingers to his head to respond to the t radio receiver that buzzed to life. “A, have you got something for me?”

“I’m afraid so, sir… It seems that someone has escaped from Arkham Asylum.”

Bruce looked up at Vic for a moment and arches an eyebrow. “Who?”

“Victor Zsasz.” Alfred responded.

His eyes widened and he nods slowly as the shock vanished as he quickly thought back. Had it been five years since he had faced that maniac? Someone who killed hundreds and marked their passing on his own skin by tallying them on it? He had nearly lost Robin… Nightwing… To his blade in the sewers beneath the city, but he was able to stop him, break his fingers, crushing them beneath his boot and handed him over to Arkham. A lot of good that did him.

Alfred continued, “He’s killed nine people. They thought one was pulling through but he drowned in his own blood before they could get them to the paramedics.”

“I’ll keep in contact with you, A. It’s going to be a long night.” He turned off the line and looked to Vic with rage in his eyes. “How did you know, Vic? Did you have something to do with this? I’d heard you were somewhat unstable last time you were in the city, in Arkham itself, weren’t you? Had another little mental break did you? Somehow orchestrated the escape of a serial killer?” He realized his fist was raised and his hand was around his old friends throat. He slowly released his grip.

Vic brushed himself down and pulled his tie back around correctly. “No, thing is, I’ve been on the roof for about ten minutes, and the light has been up for another five, yet no police officer has been up, meaning that the light that had been turned on inside the building hasn’t been noticed, suggesting that all the officers are busy with something, and something in this city usually involves Arkham. I thought it might be a jailbreak. As. Per. Usual.” He turned away from his friend and placed his hands on the edge of the building. “And I’m better now.”

“Better?”

He turned back around, and if Bruce could see his eyes he would know they were blazing with pent up anger. “YES, BETTER. Oh, I’m sorry my life was torn down around me, I’m sorry Tot died and I lost my job at the network, I’m sorry I was framed for murder twice and it seems that the second time it was by a super powered version of myself, but I’M BETTER.” He sighed. “And I’m glad I got that out of my system. Having only the company of random women I picked up on the side of the road can make a guy a bit antsy, you know… But you Bruce… Something’s up with you Mr ‘I-Jump-To-The-Worst-Possible-Conclusion’…” He pressed a button on his belt and his mask began to seemingly dissolve, but in fact peeled together to form a small globule of flesh coloured material, revealing a rough faced Vic Sage beneath. “And we’ll talk about that, some time later, once we drag in this Zsasz fellow.” He paused again for a moment, a roguish smile on his lips. “I wonder if he’s a relative.” He pressed his belt once more and placed his mask back on. “You brought the car?”

Batman grabbed a grapnel from his belt. “You know how to use one of these?”

“Point, press, pray?”

Bruce nodded and threw it to his friend. “You get the gist, Vic.”

“I used to have a grapple gun in my arsenal of tricks, y’know? Tot was trying to…” His words trailed off, and he pointed the grapnel across the street, towards the building opposite, and in the shadows, a glint of black metal revealed the position of the Batmobile.

Robinson Street, downtown:

“I heard there’s been another break out.” She walked with her husband. “At Arkham. Did you hear? Nine people dead!” She shook her head, a shopping bag tight in her hand. “Did you hear?” She turned, and her eyes widen but then relief set in as saw an off duty security guard as he approached the couple.

“Yes, I heard my lovely.” Her husband smiled and puts his arm around her. “You haven’t spoken about it for the last ten minutes. We all know how fast news spreads around the city when things happen concerning Arkham.”

“Yes well--” Her husband suddenly became dead weight and she stumbled over, his arm around her shoulders dragging her down. “Ah!”

“Hk! Hsss… Hss!” She looked her husband in the eye as they went dead, blood bubbled out of his mouth as his throat slowly opened to reveal a massive gash that had cut through his wind pipe. She rolled to the side, and then looked to the security guard behind them, a wicked smile in his eyes and a glistening blade in his hand. He slowly rolled up his sleeve and drew a notch in his skin with it, blood dripped slowly down the new wound.

“I’m here to relieve you of something.” Victor Zsasz smiled, his hair cut off roughly, a messy cut beard visible around his jaw. “You’re just going through the motions right now I assume. Life's flashing before your eyes maybe? Thinking about your lack of existence, how you just… Don’t matter?”


“Goodbye.” He took her by the throat and spun her around, and then pulled her close to himself. He held her so tight she couldn’t even think to escape. “Goodbye so that you are free…” He slid the knife across her ending her life. He smiled as he etches the blade, still wet with her blood, into his own skin, and marked her passing with another mark into his own flesh “Goodbye forever.”

“You’ve got a new car.” Vic stated beneath his mask as Bruce pushed down on the accelerator. “It’s nice. Shiny.”

“I’m not looking for kudos on the shininess of the vehicle, Vic. It’s effective.”

“Effective?” Vic smiled as the word as it leaves his lips. “Oh, beautiful, really it is.”

“You going somewhere with this line of conversation, or have your powers of communication been reduced to inane chatter? There’s a serial killer on the loose.”

“And you keep hop scotching from one mind set to another.” Bruce turned at the words. “You’re happy, aren’t you? That must be the reason you’re over compensating with the brooding today. Come on, you can tell me, can’t you? Is it a woman? A red head? Tell me it’s a red head, please o’ please.”

“Excuse me?” Bruce turned a corner, the traffic outside like slugs next to the super powered vehicle.

Vic pressed his fingers to his temple. “Let me think…a… ‘V’… Vicki? Vicki Vale?”

Bruce’s eyes widened. “What? How do you know about that?”

“I read Entertainment Global (among other rags) and there’s a photo of you and her in there… Whole spread of you and women, including that Rose chick, you know the gay one?”

“Gay?”

Vic nodded. “That’s one theory. Anyway, I was reading through them and you didn’t have that fake smile on. For a moment, you let the façade drop and you were real with her.” He laughed and looked out the window. “I even organized an illustrated presentation, but I left it in my car. Awful shame too, I used glitter.”

“Glitter.” Bruce echoed. He then turned the volume up on the police band. “You should stop playing me like that. It’s irritating.”

“Yes, but I find it amusing.” Vic tilted his head as he listened to the radio.

“Caller from Robinson Street, reporting two dead bodies, M.O. similar to that of escaped convict Victor Zsasz, approach with caution, he is presumed armed and dangerous.”

“Favourite songs to beat up serial killers to, Bruce?”

“We’re two minutes out.” He pushed down harder on the acceleration and reached for the rocket boost. “Hold onto your fedora.”

“I’d have to go with some pre packaged pop. I love me some Britney.”

Bruce turned to Vic.” You are not going to be like this the entire night.”

“Yes I am. Wait till I start singing.” He shook his head and put his feet up on the dashboard of the car. “Oops I…” he was interrupted as Bruce pulled the rocket boost, causing the car to shoot off at double it’s usual top speed. “WHOA! Ok, ok… Radiohead? I like Radiohead? That better?”