Fic: Arkham Minds - Batman (The Dark Knight)/Criminal Minds - 2/4
Title: Arkham Minds
Rating: Teen (for violence)
Summary: What happens when the madmen are running the madhouse? Dr. Spencer Reid and Agent Aaron Hotcher find out when they return to Gotham to visit Arkham Asylum. Spencer's been at the Joker's mercy before, but after the asylum goes on lockdown with the agents trapped inside with the inmates, he finds that this particular madman might be his key to surviving. Criminal Minds/Batman crossover, sequel to For Laughs.
Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or anything related to the Batman universe. I also do not own any quotes from Alice's Adventures In Wonderland.
Link to Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Lockdown
The camera panned, showing gray sky and the shadowed shapes of structures before it rested on what was a familiar form for the people of Gotham. The Narrows, and the asylum within its seedy remains, almost looked like the skeleton of some ancient beast with its reaching, broken buildings and its shining fences, growing out like bony limbs from its core. There was no smoke billowing from its rooftops, no terrifying messages left in flames. The insane didn't flood out in droves to attack the masses, and, yet, all who spotted the image of the island, displayed on the old television behind a pane of glass, stopped in their tracks.
Alfred didn't notice the small crowd that had gathered around him on the sidewalk, watching the three televisions flashing back at them through the window of the shop. If asked, he wouldn't have been able to recall what kind of store it was that he was staring at with such rapt attention, because his eyes were glued to the center screen, where white on black captioning was replaying the voice of the news anchor in the helicopter.
"Breaking news! Disturbance at Arkham Asylum. Early reports give no indication of injuries - "
The cameraman's helicopter seemed to hover after breaking from its chosen path, then began to circle the location instead of moving closer. Showing new angles, tiny uniformed men who looked like mice in a labyrinth. Showing no clues as to what was going on inside the buildings, but for the weapons in their hands. Alfred, nevertheless, reached for the cell phone inside his pocket.
"Just in! New reports are coming in about a system malfunction in one ward of the asylum. This is a security concern, but we're being told that measures have already been taken to insure the safety of all those inside and outside the asylum. A lockdown is in effect at Arkham Asylum. We'll bring you developing news as it happens, but first, back to the newsroom. Jordan, you have former head of security of Arkham on the line to give us a bit of insight concerning what measures are taken immediately following a situation like this…"
The image switched from the view of Arkham to a young African American woman in a split screen with a balding, prune of a man. The change was enough to stir Alfred into action. He pushed his way out of the crowd watching the news, pressing a number into the phone.
Before the man on the receiving end could answer, Alfred snapped out his own greeting. "Let me guess, Master Bruce - our young Dr. Reid was scheduled to spend today inside Arkham Asylum, picking the brains of inmates? Yes, well, you might want to turn on the television…"
Spencer lost himself in the darkness.
He was back, in the toy factory where the Joker had once kept him tied to an assembly line. He was back, in the cabin where Tobias Hankel had once kept him tied to a chair. He was back, waiting for his own death, but he couldn't tell if it was burning fish hearts or burning rubber babies he could smell. Or maybe it was just blood.
A woman screamed, and then was cut off, just as terrifyingly fast - was that J.J.? Spencer thought. Victor Zsasz, he has her again, and I can't help her. Then the room was cast in red. Blood it was, then.
It took another second for Spencer to remember to breath, to realize that the weight on his chest wasn't from restraints or his captor. It was suffocation, panic induced. He shook once, his whole body trembling, before he fully collected himself and his hand moved for his gun. It wasn't there - no weapons, no jewelry, no cell phones, in this ward of the asylum.
Just as quickly as panic had taken him, clarity washed him free of it. His wide, observant eyes took in the room: the Joker wasn't at his side any longer. He was across the room, standing behind Dr. Quinzel with a hand over the woman's mouth, a cooing Shhh the only sound coming from their side of the room. She must have made the scream he'd heard. It was still too dark to see features, but Spencer imagined the Joker giving him a wink, noting that they both needed to be quiet.
Spencer obeyed, cataloging what he knew was happening instead of moving.
That red glow coming from the hallway...Those were back-up lights. They shouldn't have been triggered unless all power was out or the security system was being reset. The click he'd heard when they'd come on, that was the door release, which should never have sounded in either case. Something was very wrong here.
And, the orderly waiting outside, who'd been pounding his fists on the door a moment earlier, wasn't rushing inside. Wasn't calling out. Instead, there was a roar from the corridor, steady like the hum of a rainstorm, until it began to fragment, break apart into individual voices, individual screams and wild cries.
The doors had opened. That was the sound of the inmates down the corridor rushing out of their rooms in mad joy. That was the sound of running patients, patients in Intensive Treatment...the darkest minds in Gotham. There were at least two more corridors filled to half capacity in this wing alone. And what about the rest of the asylum? The rest of Gotham? What had happened? Spencer hated not knowing.
Spencer pushed himself up, slowly, seeing the shadowy figures of Dr. Quinzel and the Joker stiffen as they watched him move. He lifted a surrendering hand, letting them know he wasn't going anywhere, but turned his head, glancing through the sliver of an opening at the window.
He spotted the orderly, but he wasn't where he expected him to be - he's leaving us.
From the window, he could see Turner's back as the man, suddenly mute and on a mission, stood at the end of the hallway, where the next security check was waiting, a door between one side of the wing and the next. His meaty hands fumbled for the keypad, but even in the distance, Reid could see that it was unlit. Turner jerked at the handle, nevertheless, his lips shaped to form a muttered litany of 'no-no-no-notyet-notyet'.
Spencer's brow wrinkled in confusion. The patient doors had opened but not that one security door. The question didn't have time to form.
Figures rushed past Spencer's window, dressed in inmate uniforms. He couldn't see what happened next, but he could hear it, a cry for help, wet punches and rabid tearing of clothing as the patients found and attacked the orderly.
Spencer could taste his own heartbeat: Hotch was past that door. Was the next corridor open? Was Hotch in the middle of this?
"Enjoying the show, boy genius?"
The Joker's call came out as more of a whisper. Spencer slipped away from the door, awkwardly clenching his hands against his sides since there was nothing else he could grab. His eyes darted down to the unconscious guard at his side. He still couldn't see the man well enough to know what his injuries were; he still couldn't see if there was a weapon left on him.
When he looked up, the Joker had the taser gun pointed in his direction. He aimed, but instead of firing, he tilted the nose up, motioning for him to come closer.
As a criminal profiler, Spencer knew one thing for certain about the Joker - he was, as he proclaimed to be, an unpredictable agent of chaos. As the madman's former kidnapping victim, however, Spencer also knew the Joker enjoyed having an audience. The longer he could entertain, or be entertained, the longer they would stay alive.
And at the moment, Spencer, the guards, Dr. Quinzel…they stood a much better chance as playthings for the Joker than they did in the riot outside.
Spencer stepped up, and the Joker let his hand fall from Dr. Quinzel's mouth. She took in a few ragged breaths but didn't so much as whimper. Instead, she collapsed down onto the edge of the bed, beside the guard who'd served as the Joker's bait. Now that he was close enough, Spencer could see the poor man. He was middle aged, Latino, and not sitting up of his own free will. Plastic restraints and a belt had been looped through his arms and legs, forcing him to sit in his cross-legged pose. The man was teetering on consciousness, an open head wound covering half his face with blood, eyes too swollen to open, lip torn in the fierce beating that had driven him to submission.
Spencer had felt the Joker's brutal fists before. His pulse sped up at the sight.
As if he could hear Spencer's thoughts, the Joker let out a chuckle, much lower than his usual manic laugh, and threw an arm around Spencer's shoulders. The sound of a tut-tut in his ear made him wince.
"Now, now, Dr. Reid," the Joker whispered, too low for the others to catch, "I thought you didn't feel sorry for criminals in pain? Isn't that why you didn't so much as flinch when you shot me?"
Spencer swallowed. "If I wanted you in pain, I would have aimed higher than your ankle."
The burst of laughter was cut off. The Joker stifled it like a child caught giggling in class, but he gave the agent a pointed look and a chiding grin. "Don't get me, uh, tickled, kiddo. We don't want the crazies outside to hear us, do we?"
The weight of the Joker's arm lifted, and Spencer turned to face him. "You called the guards criminals."
"Just as quick as ever," the Joker noted. "Bet you want to know what I know, don't you, Spence?"
Spencer frowned. "You didn't make this happen, did you? This wasn't you."
The Joker cocked his head, eyes mocking and innocent. "Oh, no, uh, Dr. Reid - haven't you heard? I'm recovering from my evil ways…" He jerked his chin in Dr. Quinzel's direction and gave Spencer a wink - play along, kiddo. "But you know what a gossip I am - I just love to hear a good scheme unfold, so I can, uh, do my civic duty and report wrongdoings."
"What do you know?"
The Joker tapped the taser gun's cartridge against Spencer's chest, reminding him that he was the one holding a weapon. Spencer had no doubt that it wasn't the Joker's only one - in fact, if he had to guess, he'd consider the taser more a toy. Spencer glanced down, trying to make out the Joker's belt in the dim lighting. He could see a shape on the side of it, a baton. There had to be more.
A tap of the gun on his chin made Spencer lift his gaze again.
"None of that, kiddo. Sit," the Joker encouraged, "stay a spell. We've got loads of catching up to do." He leaned in closer, grin wide. "And it would, uh, be in in your best interest to keep me occupied while we wait out the crowd, now wouldn't it?"
Five seconds.
Commissioner Jim Gordon cradled his head between his hands, elbows digging into the pile of paperwork on his desk, and tried to take five seconds to push down the conversation he'd just had with Barbara. His wife, for now at least.
"You can't just take them from me, Barbara. It's one thing for you to be mad at me…But the kids - they shouldn't be without their father."
"They already are, Jim. You're the only one who hasn't realized that. And it's not forever. Just, we need the space, Jim. We both know that. With James Jr. acting out…There's not a tenant in your brother's old place right now, so we're free to use it. I'll be moving back to Chicago before the school term begins."
"For how long."
"It's a separation. Not a divorce."
That wasn't an answer.
He could lie to himself, say that this was the beginning of the end, but he knew it had started somewhere sooner. Maybe the day he let her believe he was dead. He couldn't be sure. A part of him, though, knew he should have seen this coming.
"Get it together, Gordon," he muttered to himself. There wasn't time for thoughts like those. His wife might be leaving him, but his city wasn't going anywhere. And his city needed him right now.
He'd tried and failed to keep the news from Arkham under wraps, but the local networks were willing to throw enough money around to find leaks wherever they might be. Gordon sometimes hated his job as commissioner; it meant mending fences and stopping media frenzies instead of being on the frontline. And sometimes he failed at that.
It wasn't a complete disaster. Heavens knew, this city had seen worse. This was barely a drop in the bucket compared to the last time there'd been an incident at the asylum, when the Joker had been at large while the inmates ran free on the grounds. Still, whenever the name Arkham appeared in a news report, people paid attention. People panicked.
Gordon raised his head, getting back to work.
The problem was contained, from what his men on the ground were reporting, but that didn't mean there weren't lives at stake inside the building itself. His people were still trying to get better intel on what exactly had happened. And how many civilians might be trapped inside.
The ring of his phone made him grimace. He picked it up quickly, expecting it to be the mayor again, demanding an update, but it was another familiar voice instead.
"Commissioner Gordon, this is Agent Derek Morgan with the BAU."
"I know who the hell you are, kid," Gordon replied, a hint of a smile in his voice. "And for the record, I only have one Derek Morgan in my address book. Why so formal?" A sigh on the other end wasn't the response he was hoping for, and his old frown came back with a vengeance. "Derek?"
"Sorry…Sorry, Jim. We're just wound a bit tight here. The Batman called us, not ten minutes ago. He told us about the situation in Arkham."
Gordon froze. The Bat had been quiet of late, that was for certain, and it was no surprise that Batman would already know about Arkham, but Gordon couldn't wrap his mind around why the vigilante would have called Derek Morgan of all people. The situation in Arkham wasn't good, but they didn't need the Feds involved. "Come again?"
"He said I needed to call you before we arrived." The sound of movement was a rattle over the line. "Jim, Agent Hotchner and Dr. Reid are inside the asylum right now. In the wing that's locked down. They were there for inmate interviews."
"Christ…" Gordon ran his hand beneath his glasses, rubbing at his eyes. "Derek, this is bad. I'll admit as much, but you need to trust my people. We've got this handled. As far as we can tell, there was just a malfunction in the security system. We're locked out and they're locked in, but that doesn't mean they're necessarily in danger."
"We're not coming in officially, but we are coming. I trust you - I do - but this is my team. You fight me on this, and we'll make it official - federal agents being held hostage is a federal problem, Jim. And like you said, you don't know what's going on inside."
Jim shook his head. "I'll see you soon," he said, biting down his frustration. He hung up, cursing under his breath. "And here I thought this might be simple…"
His mouth tasted like pennies. Hotch's brow attempted to furrow at that thought but was stopped by the slick surface his face was currently planted against. He tried to open his eyes and his world spun, but he pushed up, onto his elbows, resisting the urge to collapse back down. A foot slammed against his back and took the choice from him.
He choked on the blood from his busted gum, then remembered how it had gotten that way - the blackout, then the chime of the doors opening. He'd been too focused on getting to the security door with Officer Cash to hear the man who stepped out of the closest room, tackling him to the ground.
Aaron rolled onto his side, reaching back just in time to deflect the foot and grab his attacker's ankle. The inmate slipped, hitting the tiled floor beside Hotch hard.
A soft thud and a crackle of electricity followed the fall and the man collapsed, convulsing, two wires running down to the dart-like projectiles embedded in his chest. Hotch looked up to see Officer Cash standing a few feet away, another inmate a moaning mess at his feet and his taser gun still raised. He quickly ejected the cartridge, pulling an extra out of the holder at his side and popping it into place at the end of the gun.
"We need to move, Agent Hotchner," he said, his voice hushed. "Can you stand on your own?"
Hotch pushed himself onto his feet, ignoring the flash of pain at his temple. He had a dozen questions on the tip of his tongue, but he kept quiet, realizing they were still in danger. The hallway made an L up ahead, and the sounds of movement and cat-calls echoed off the walls.
Cash jerked his head to the side, and Hotch followed his lead, slipping into the closest room. The security officer followed him, shutting the unfortunately unlocked door. They both slid down to one knee beside the door, heads leaning in, to listen to the corridor. The sounds didn't get any closer. Hotch realized, with some relief, that most of the rooms at this end of the corridor must have been currently unoccupied.
"Before you ask, I don't know what the hell's goin' on," Cash whispered.
Hotch lowered his voice as well. "The security check point?"
"Tried it when the first guy attacked. It's the only door that isn't unlocked, far as I can tell," Cash spat. He shook his head, nostrils flared in anger. "Which means we're on lockdown. This whole place has been upgraded over the past few years - hasn't done much to help, if you ask me, but if there's a breach, the security doors and the outer doors are supposed to lock. The patient doors are on another system."
"And I can assume they're not supposed to open after a power outage?"
"No. Never." Cash grew quiet, then shook his head. "Radioed in right before we entered the wing. I didn't want to worry you then, but half the officers on duty were in the Narrows, said their was a possible disturbance. Now I'm thinking that was a distraction. It's too much of a coincidence that these doors opened right as most of our officers left their posts."
Hotch saw the realization cross the man's face. They both realized, then, that this couldn't have been an accident and there were likely outside forces at work. And inside forces, for that matter. Someone had put this together expertly. "Your radio still working?"
"Busted by the guy who came at me, but if this job was organized, there's a good chance the signal would have been blocked anyway."
Hotch raised himself up, checking the sight outside the door's window. All clear but for the two currently moaning on the floor. "Do you know if the rest of the wing was affected?"
Cash's frown deepened. "I…Through the check point door I saw the orderly we'd left with your agent, right before he was -" He cut off, shaking his head once again. "I didn't see Dr. Reid or Dr. Quinzel, but their corridor was definitely opened when ours was. I don't know about the rest of the facility. I'm sorry."
The apology was sincere enough, but Hotch couldn't appreciate it. Every thought that ran through is head was deflected by the loudest one: where the Hell was Reid? Hotch clenched his jaw, then nodded once to himself. Dr. Reid wasn't helpless and he was likely the smartest person in this building. If Cash hadn't seen him, it was probably because he was in hiding, just as they currently were.
Hotch stared out the window one more time. "The two outside are beginning to move. They won't stay off their feet much longer. You know this side of the wing, Officer Cash. Where can we go?"
Cash licked his bottom lip, thinking. "Same place we were already headed. The administrator. Dr. Arkham. I told you he has a secondary office in this wing? The man has a panic room there, I'm sure of it. Even if he doesn't, the place locks up tight."
"How do we get there?"
Cash let out a soft, bitter chuckle. "Easy. We get past the twenty or so patients around that corner."
Aaron was straight-faced as ever. He nodded, as if this were a viable plan, then cracked open their door. "How many cartridges do you have left?"
"Three. Plus my pepper spray - Dr. Leland made us stop carrying firearms inside the facility. Sounded like a good idea at the time. Not so much anymore. You have a plan, Agent Hotchner?"
Aaron stepped out into the hallway without another word, his gaze set on the inmate who'd attacked him.
For once, Special Agent Emily Prentiss was happy to be stuck in the backseat. No doubt, the two detectives who'd met the team at the airport had probably expected the members of the BAU to split, at least one of them riding in the other rental. Instead the three of them had taken the SUV for themselves. They needed the time to be together as a team.
Since they hadn't been called in officially, or even given permission to leave until they were halfway to Gotham, they'd taken the first flight out. Agent Jareau had pulled some strings to get them booked so quickly, but even with J.J.'s efforts, the travel itself had cut into their timetable. Between the ride there and the flight itself, they'd lost nearly two hours. Good time by some standards, but horrible when minutes mattered. And the flight hadn't been private - Emily had forgotten how little privacy one had on a plane when it wasn't owned by the FBI.
Not that they needed briefing this time. The situation spoke for itself. Their supervisory agent and their youngest were currently trapped in a literal madhouse.
Emily swallowed down whatever statement she was about to make and studied the two in front of her instead. J.J had a phone pressed to one ear, the media liaison muttering quiet answers into the receiver. Derek Morgan was at the wheel, taking on the role of leader for their divided team, his focus dead ahead, as if he actually knew how to navigate Gotham without the GPS planted on the dash. When they hit a red light, he released one hand, running it over his shaved head, the only tell that gave away his worry.
"You know, if Reid was here, he'd be giving us a refresher on crowd psychology," Emily said, quietly.
She saw Derek's faint smile reflecting back in the rearview mirror. Even that gesture was strained, and Emily wondered how long the man would be able to hold it together. She could remember what a loose cannon he'd been the last time Reid had been in danger - the young man was close to all of them, but Derek thought of Reid as a little brother and was always looking out for him, even when he didn't need to...Though, from his track record, Emily was beginning to think Derek wasn't wrong to be cautious. Reid seemed to draw the attention and admiration of some of the worst sorts of criminals, and as someone who studied the criminal mind, Emily knew she should probably be fascinated by whatever it was about him that made him stand out. Instead she hated herself for even thinking about that at a time like this.
J.J. slid her phone shut, turning slightly in her seat so that she could glance back at Emily. "That was Garcia. Believe or not, Batman has her running errands in D.C. But she assures me, we shouldn't worry because she has her laptop with her and can 'make magic happen' from any wi-fi location."
Derek's brow raised. "What?"
J.J. nodded, her blond ponytail bouncing against the back of her seat. "Apparently, Batman spoke to her sometime after we took off, and they determined that one of the contractors who planned the most recent facelift Arkham's received is currently in a retirement home outside of D.C. Garcia was in the middle of visiting him when I called."
"What's Batman hoping she finds?" Emily asked, cutting Derek off before he could begin. She could see from the flash of aggravation in his eyes that he didn't like his favorite technical analyst getting calls from a wanted vigilante, and Emily certainly didn't want to be the one to tell him that Garcia had spoken to the caped crusader on several occasions over the past few months. "I'm sure someone as resourceful as Batman already has the original blueprints at his disposal. Or, at the very least, he knows where to find them."
J.J. shrugged. "I imagine he wants to know which areas have been changed in recent years. Maybe there's a way in the police don't know about."
Derek shook his head, angry. "And it doesn't concern either of you that if he's asking those questions, it's probably because he wants to infiltrate the facility without the police? Or us, for that matter?"
"And you're telling me that, if he's willing to lend a hand, you're not going to take it?" J.J. asked, her voice low. "Because, as I recall, last time Batman helped, he saved my life."
Emily raised a brow, not expecting to hear so much heat in the other woman's words.
Derek let out a breath. "I know you trust him, J.J." He let the comment float a minute before continuing. "No…I won't turn down any help. It's not like Hotch is here to write me up for it."
The fierceness left J.J.'s face, and she slumped back into her seat. "I wish we knew what was going on inside there." She reached up, and Emily was sure, even without being able to see her, that the other woman was touching the deep scar at her neck, the only evidence of the night her life almost ended in this very city. "Victor Zsasz is inside there. With Hotch and Spence." She swallowed hard, her voice clearer when it returned. "Gordon said the cameras in the facility were down, but maybe Garcia can - "
A buzz from her phone cut her off. She flipped it open again to read the text message. "Garcia found what Batman was looking for. And apparently he was able to use it…Derek take the next right. Do you remember the way to the docks from here?"
Emily leaned up, straining against her seatbelt. "What's going on?"
J.J. looked up, her eyes still wide with surprise. "This message, it's not from Garcia. It's from Batman. He wants to talk…Take the left after the hotel."
"You're kidding," Emily said. "Batman sends text messages?"
"Apparently," J.J. muttered. "And he also knows exactly where we are. Comforting."
Derek slowed the car, taking the next turn. "Batman seems to know a lot more than Jim about what's going on at Arkham, too." Before J.J. could shoot him another look, he shook his head. "It's not that I think he's a part of this. I think what he does is dangerous, for him more than others, both physically and psychologically, but that's not what I mean…He knows something we don't about what's going on in that facility. We're missing something important."
"Like why this happened to begin with?" J.J. asked. "I looked over all the info on disturbances in Arkham, including the fire incident that took place last time we were here. Almost every event is perpetrated by an outside force. Chances are, if this is more than a system's malfunction, someone outside of Arkham helped plan this."
Emily cocked her head, staring out her window at the dull gray of Gotham. It was easy to see where the wealth of the city fell away, making room for crime and poverty. This wasn't exactly the best neighborhood for three FBI agents to meet a mysterious masked man, and yet Emily didn't feel any apprehension on that front. Her nerves were entirely focused on the fact that two of their own were currently missing, their status unknown, and, as far as she knew, they were defenseless. The idea that Reid might be trapped in a place with the Joker again made her sick to her stomach, but the notion that someone planned this made it even worse.
"I think you're right. If this was just a matter of a locked door, Batman, he doesn't have all the red tape to cut through...he would probably already be inside that facility. There's a reason he hasn't made a move yet. Maybe there's something, or someone, outside of Arkham that concerns him just as much as what's going on inside."
Derek was quiet, but Emily could see his focused gaze return to the street. "Let's ask him."
She wasn't sure what it was her teammate saw in the dark shadows of the towering pair of storage buildings, but he was already pulling to a stop on the side of the street. None of them questioned the move aloud, or even had time to before Derek slid out of the SUV, his hand hovering over his weapon as he moved toward the small alley between the two aluminum walls. Emily and J.J. followed after him.
They couldn't see the river for the detritus, but they could smell it, fishy and polluted on this side of the city. The area, so near the docks, had probably once served a purpose other than as breeding grounds for crime, but Emily couldn't quite decipher what businesses had once populated the block.
Derek came to a quick stop, right at the edge of the shadows, and Emily took a spot at his flank. It took a moment, but her eyes adjusted to the darkness ahead, just as the Batman took one step forward, just close enough for them to make out the familiar lines of his uniform. For a moment, Emily was certain Derek was going to pull his weapon on the other man, but his body language visible relaxed when J.J. put a hand on his elbow and stepped around him.
"You said you could help?" she asked.
Emily had a feeling that wasn't exactly how the vigilante had phrased it, but he didn't refute the comment. Instead, he stared at her a moment. "Agent Jareau," he said, his voice gravelly. He reached down, pulling at something beside his legs. "I have someone you need to meet."
The pudgy face of a middle aged man came into view as he wallowed at the Batman's feet, blood streaming down from his busted nose, a short round hat with a small brim sitting askew on his head of greasy ginger hair. Aside from the hat, he was still in his Arkham uniform, which was translucent and wet in patches.
The man stared up at Batman, eyes wide with horror, "Twinkle twinkle little bat, how I wonder what you're at…" he muttered, a hard edge to the sing-song words and the chuckle on his lips out of place.
"Jervis Tetch," Batman said. "Former inmate of Arkham Asylum. He escaped earlier today."
Emily straightened, shooting Derek a look. "We heard nothing about a breakout…" She drifted off, then shook her head. "Gordon doesn't know yet, does he? Why did you come to us with this?"
Batman didn't answer her. He reached out, a card between his gloved fingers. "Tetch was wearing this in his hat."
It was a playing card. Without looking, the three agents already knew what figure would be on the other side. "The Joker," J.J. said, her voice shaky. "Then he's behind this? Oh God…Reid really is in danger."
Batman raised his chin. "No - I don't think the lockdown was the Joker, or Tetch's, doing. But the Joker knows out to get of Arkham, and he sent Tetch and others out, with assignments to keep us busy. I also found a picture of Gordon's daughter on this one - he said he was asked take her."
"Why? Why would the Joker send out other inmates? Does this mean the Joker's already loose in Gotham?" J.J. asked.
The Batman was hard to read, but Emily could see the doubt in his hesitation. "No," Emily supplied for him, "he hasn't escaped or we'd know it. He hasn't left because what he wants is still in Arkham."
Derek's hand did land on his gun this time, but he didn't pull it, his eyes on Tetch and a hard frown breaking his handsome face in half. "Then this," he said, jerking his chin at the beaten man, "is just one of his usual games. Something to keep us and every other law enforcement agent busy looking for escapees instead of working on a way to get into Arkham safely."
Emily cocked her head in thought. She narrowed her gaze on Batman. "You haven't said how they escaped. But you have a theory on that, don't you?"
Before batman could answer, the inmate on the ground let out a gasp of surprise, staring up at J.J. "Alice?" he whispered. "Is it you?"
Batman let go of the man's collar, letting him drop forward in front of the agents. "Do your job. Get him to talk."
Derek scowled at Tetch, reaching down to put the man in handcuffs. "What about you?" he asked, glancing back up at Batman.
Emily followed his gaze, but the vigilante had already disappeared into the shadows, taking whatever suspicions he had with him.
Link to Chapter 3