Chapter Text
BLACK GATE PENITENTIARY
Matthew O'Kirk had no sympathy from his former friends and co-workers. Human Trafficking earned the former cop 20 years in Blackgate, and his silence earned him an eternity of hatred from Gordon and a look of disappointment from Harvey Bullock. As the man sat in his cell, his mind couldn't help but replay the memories of his actions. He remembered the details, Waylon's young and confused face as they shoved him in the trunk of the car and his screams about how they couldn't do this.
TING! TING! TING!
He looked up to find a guard looking at him with disgusted eyes, he got that a lot here, but the guard wasn't here for his daily routine of verbal assault. He had news.
"O'Kirk. Bad news. Conners passed away last night."
"W-What?!"
"Yeah, died in his sleep. Sad too, GCPD was hoping to ask him about what you to monsters did."
"G-Guard. I-"
"It is sad. I mean, one needs to think. Dude might have been a cop, but what he did, damn. It's no wonder he died."
"Guard! Listen to me! I need to-"
"But to be fair, I can't blame him. After all, he was already dead."
O'Kirk's eyes widened, and he backed away from the cell bars. He could feel a sense of dread overtake him. The guard's dark skin slowly turned white, and his brown eyes white blank. He then placed his hands against the cell door and began to chuckle as green veins appeared over his skin. He then turned his head, the loud snap of the guard's neck caused O'Kirk to scream before his guard turned around and grinned at him.
"W-What's wrong, O'Kirk?! Y-You, doN't look sO G-gOod!"
The guard then pulled out from his back pocket a Snub Nose Revolver and aimed it at the prisoner. The guard's chuckle then contorted into a sinister and horrendous cackle, O'Kirk screamed for help. No one came.
"I-I'm sorry! BuT HE cAn't riSK yOu TaLKING!"
The guard teared up, he tried to fight the laughter and pain, but it was all fruitless. He pulled the trigger, only for a red flag to be ejected from the nozzle and launched into O'Kirk's forehead killing him. The guard laughed even louder, his eyes now crying blood as he raised his gun and placed it against his head.
"N-No! Please! I-I DID WHAT YOU-"
BANG!
Two dead bodies now lay on the prison floor.
CHAPTER 1: THE GAME IS SET
GOTHAM CITY. OCTOBER 21st
FIVE MINUTES EARLIER
The chill of the fall swept through Gotham City. The breeze of early winter sent the orange and dying leaves of the trees into the air giving the illusion of beauty to those new to the city. But those who lived within her walls knew the truth, that Gotham was a vampire who'd feed on those naive enough to believe. A loud roar of an engine echoed through the dying woods that surrounded the hallowed halls of the Asylum, stopping at the rusty gates of Arkham. He was here on important business.
It has been over three months since the arresting of Waylon Jones, or Killer Croc as the media had begun calling him. Found on the grounds of insanity, Waylon had been placed into Arkham Asylum in the hopes of regaining his mental stability and recover from his trauma. It was a slow process, but he was lucky to have three people in his corner. His younger sister Bea. Dr. Leslie Thompkins who begun speech therapy with him back in August, and Batman.
"Evenin' Batman. Visiting again?"
"Yes."
The rusty gates to the Asylum opened themselves up, allowing Batman to drive forward inside. To state that Arkham was anything less than haunting would be a lie, it loomed over Gotham like a curse, a home to the nightmares and monsters of the city. Once inside the hospital, Batman heard the usual from Arkham's inmates.
"When I get outta here, Batman! I'm coming for you!"
The one said mostly by the inmates of the Asylum, others would just call him a monster.
"Good Evening, Batman. What is the beginning of eternity, the end of time, the beginning of every end, and the end of a race?"
"The letter 'E' Edward."
As he continued down the white halls, he stopped as he looked at a large metal door. Inmate: 0801. Batman glared, not a single laugh or chuckle, it made him uneasy, but he wasn't here for the Clown. No. He was here to check in on Gotham's most recent addition. Further down the hall,
"Nice to see you again, Batman."
"Dr. Thompkins."
Dr. Leslie Thompkins was a kind woman, the current guardian to a blind Bea Jones, and tutor to Waylon Jones. The two stood before the giant metal door of their charge.
"How was he today?"
"Better than last month. Waylon started to open up, still struggles with what happened. But he and Bea do enjoy their time together."
"And Bea?"
"She's doing better. Learned Braille fast for a girl her age."
"I'm happy to hear that."
Batman gave a small smile to Dr. Thompkins before placing his gloved hand on the metal door, before it opened up a guard smiled at Batman and spoke under his breath.
"Good luck with Killer Croc."
Batman stopped and looked at the guard with an intense glare.
"His name is Waylon Jones."
The guard swallowed his tongue and looked away to avoid the gaze of Batman.
KCHAK!
With the door opened, Batman entered the room and stood before the large glass window, on the other side sat Waylon Jones, or Killer Croc as the wards of Arkham called him. The reptilian man turned to look at Batman with his one right eye and smiled.
"Batman."
"Hello, Waylon. I'm glad to see you're okay."
"It could be better. Bea here today?"
"No. Not today."
"Oh."
His scaly face went sour as his expression suddenly saddened. Batman took note of this as it happened often. Should anyone mention his sister's absence from visiting him, he'd grow sad and quiet. Only saying one or two words after it was brought up.
"Waylon. I'm here with some bad news."
"What?"
"Detective Conners. He died this morning."
Waylon went silent.
"We tried to keep him on life support for these last few months, hoping to question him when he came back but with him gone. Our one lead to who did this to you, with him gone. I need to ask you what happened to you, Waylon."
Waylon said nothing, Batman waited, but he knew how trauma affected one's voice. It would do no one any good to try and force it out of him.
"I understand if you don't want to talk, Waylon. I'll come back later, but please. I only want to help you."
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Batman raised his brow and answered the Bat-Phone.
"Jim?"
"Batman! Listen, I'm at Blackgate. We… We have a problem."
"A breakout?"
"No. A murder. A guard murdered O'Kirk."
Batman stood in silent shock, he gritted his teeth before growling and saying to his friend.
"I'll be right there."
BE-DEET!
"W-Waylon. I need to go. But I promise you, I will help you and bring whoever did this to you to justice."
With that, Batman left the Asylum and speeds off towards Blackgate. Hoping that there'd still be a chance to examine the crime scene.
BLACK GATE PENITENTIARY
"I'm here, Jim. What happened?"
Gordon sighed as he looked at his costumed partner who emerged from the shadows. The two began to walk down the stone hallway towards the crime scene.
"Good, you're here. It's a strange one, Batman. The guard's name was Thomas Smith, he was on his daily monitor routine tonight before stopping at Kirk's cell. Cameras showed the two having a conversation before it cuts out for less than a minute. Then when they came back, the two were on the floor dead."
"Any witnesses?"
"None of the prisoners are talking, and for some unknown reason, several of the guards have no recollection of what happened when the camera went out."
"I can get them to talk. And the crime scene?"
"Take a look for yourself."
The two arrived at the murder scene, the cell opened wide and two white blankets covering the bodies of the deceased. Batman's eyes were drawn to the strange protruding object in O'Kirk's head.
"Is that?"
"Yep."
Batman waited for a minute, then he entered the jail cell and removed the white tarp revealing A miniature red flagpole trapped between Matthew O'Kirks' brow, the flag has the words' BANG' written in yellow. The two detectives immediately know who suspect number one is, but they need one more chance to give them probable cause. So, they remove the tarp from the killer.
"Pale skin. Green Veins."
"And a demonic grin. It's Joker, alright."
"What was his name?"
"Harold Ansem."
Batman grits his teeth before taking a small syringe from his utility belt, he stabs the vein and draws the green serum from his bloodstream. He then stands and heads for the door, Gordon feeling the rage emanating from his friend.
"Where are you going?"
"To see him."
ARKHAM ASYLUM
SLAM!
The Dark Knight storms the threshold of the Mental Hospital, his white eyes burning with rage, and his knuckles tense with anger. He stopped and glared at the guard, standing in front of the door.
"B-Bats. Back so-"
"Move."
Without a single word, the guard did as ordered and moved out of the way. Batman opened the doors to the padded cell and stared down the person who sat in the center with his iconic sinister horrific red smile.
"SMILE, MY DEAR! After all, You're never fully dressed without one. HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!!!!"
Batman just stood there, silent as a golem, trying his best to temper down the anger he had for the Clown Prince of Crime. This wasn't a beat down, no, this was an interrogation.
"I'm here to talk."
"Oh? Well, that's odd. I mean, you've only talked to me after a punch to the face. What's the special occasion?"
"I want to know why? Why did you murder Officer O'Kirk?"
The Clown raised his brow and scratched his chin. He shrugged and leaned against the padded cell wall.
"O'Kirk? Who the hell is that?"
"Don't lie to me, Joker. A guard murdered him tonight before taking his life, pale skin, green veins, and died with a smile. All signs point to you. Now, talk!"
"Well, I'm sorry, Bats, but sadly I actually don't know what you're talking about. Now, if you aren't here for our usual tussle, then kindly exit the way you came. 'Sides, I'm a bit busy planning my escape."
Batman growled as he moved closer and grabbed the white-skinned psychopath by the collar and lifted off of the ground. His anger started to flare up.
"I'm not playing this time, Joker! Tell me, how did you infect the guard with your toxin? Why, O'Kirk?!"
"HA! HA! As much as I love seeing that anger in your eyes, Bats, I'm actually telling the truth this time! Yuck! I can't even say that word without puking."
Batman slammed the Joker into the padded wall before tossing him onto the floor.
"Don't lie to me!"
"Heh! I'm not Bats. I swear! I haven't the foggiest clue what you're babbling on about! I haven't left the Asylum since you last dragged me back here kicking and screaming!"
The Joker chuckled before standing up and looking at his shadowy adversary with a surprisingly tense look on his face. As he spoke, he closed the gap between the two.
"So if I am to be accused of anything, It's boredom. Now…"
He then brushed off the shoulder of the Batman and flashed his iconic toothy grin.
"Unless you have some playing cards and are ready for a good time, there's the door."
Batman and The Joker, two opposing forces, stared each other down. But Batman knew that The Joker at his core was just a showman. Had he been behind the murder of O'Kirk, he'd flaunt it like there was no tomorrow. He lives for the attention, but for him to deny this. It didn't sit well with Batman. So the Dark Knight turned away and exited the room.
"Bye-Bye Batsy! Hate to see you go, but love seeing you leave! And do me a favor, when you catch the poor bastard who stole my act. Give 'em a good punch to the kisser for me! I could do it myself, but you know, I'm indisposed at the moment."
SLAM!
With the slamming of the door, Batman could hear the Joker's laughter. It made him sick. His next course of action was simple, head back home and analyze the serum in victims' bloodstream.
THE BAT-CAVE
The Bat-Cave, the dark sanctuary, and headquarters to Gotham's vigilantes. Filled with trophies of Batman's victories, glass display cases of his suits, and the uniforms of all five Robins. He sat at the Bat-Computer in silence, he scanned every screen as the microscope analyzed the components in the serum.
"It's strange. The chemicals in the serum are almost identical to Joker's Gas, almost. It's off by one ingredient."
"You know sir, I may have worked for you and your family for several years. I didn't expect my job to include stealing evidence from Mr. Gordon and the GCPD."
"Thank you, Alfred. Bring it up, and we can begin."
Alfred Pennyworth was many things, a former actor, a soldier, a field medic, and even a former MI-6 agent. But right now, he was ever faithful and loyal to his adopted son Bruce Wayne. Like Leslie, he wasn't a fan of the route his son had taken. How much Bruce had done for the city as Batman was tremendous, but he hated the nights he'd have to tend to Bruce's wounds and clean up the blood from his costumes. But he'd rather standby and stay with his son then leave him alone with the monster born from his anger. Alfred sighed as he placed the black body bag onto the operating table of the Bat-Cave.
"Are you sure this is the most appropriate place to analyze this toxin, Master Bruce?"
"I've run the composition of the serum to every sample of the Joker Toxin in the cave. But the one that infected Harold is different. Made up of a different ingredient than before, and if we find what that is, we find the murderer."
"Very well, then, I shall prepare for surgery."
The two went to work on the autopsy, they found that whatever did this to Harold affected him on a cellular level. His internal organs had all but shut down, his heart had been poisoned, and if he hadn't blown his brains out, his heart was going to give out two minutes later. But then, as they examined his body. Alfred notices something mist unusual.
"M-Master, Bruce. I think I found something."
"What is it, Alfred?"
Alfred pulled from the Ansem's body the thorny vines of a plant.
"I think we just found our next suspect."
NEXT TIME! POISON IVY!
SAME BAT-TIME! SAME BAT-CHANNEL!