Fall of Justice

Curse at Arkham Asylum

Dick Grayson surveyed his old haunt with a smile, the Batcave glistened, its black walls wet with fresh mist from the waterfall which hid it from the world. He was glad to be on his own now, no longer part of team, no longer taking orders. But he had to admit, he missed it, or at the very least, felt a nice nostalgic tug at being back. After all, he had grown up here.

"Nightwing," Bruce called from behind his computer. "I like the new suit."

"You can call me Dick, that's what I call you."

Bruce smiled. "It's good to see you."

"I'm sorry I missed the funeral. If it wasn't life or death I would have been here. Alfred was like a father to me," Dick could see a twinge of sadness in Bruce, but it only lasted a second.

"You don't have to apologize."

"How can I help?"

Dick joined him at the desk, photos of voodoo rituals, ghost sightings and abandoned witchcraft materials littered every screen. "I have one lead on the Joker but I can't narrow it down. Something happened with Kara, something she can't explain. But I need more information."

"I want to help but I'm not sure where I come in here... I know nothing about magic, I don't even know if I believe in it."

"Me neither. I want you to go to Arkham, talk to Kara, get more out of her. There must be some detail--"

"Me? Now? It's the middle of the night, and I barely know the girl, get Clark--"

"That's why I need you. Because you barely know her. I think she needs a friendly face but not an intrusive one. Clark is too close to her and I'm--"

"Like a cop who wants to be her friend," Dick said, no sign of sarcasm in his voice.

"Yes."

"Alright. I get it, I'll go," he kept his eyes on the monitors. "What did she say happened?"

"She was fooled by something. Be careful."

#

The overnight at Arkham was always a tossup, nine out of ten times it was quiet. Not literally, the moans and groans, the night terror screams and laughs from delightful dreams was a constant current that ran through the place, day or night. But at least there were no fights. The residents were restricted to their rooms which meant a much smaller chance of trouble. All Tim had to do on his shift was run checks, switching off with his partner, making sure everyone was where they were meant to be.

This particular night Tim had a headache he couldn't shake even after four aspirin. The pain was concentrated at the top of his forehead, like something was trying to drill its way into his brain.

"Tim?" George, his partner called as he tapped Tim's shoulder. "You don't hear me talking? It's your turn to do checks."

"Oh, okay," Tim said, taking the clipboard from his colleague. He had been at a fifteen minute break which had ended in what felt like thirty seconds. It must be a flu he thought, as he went out to the hall.

One door stood out to him over the others, at the end of the hall, it should have been the last door he went to, but rather, for some reason, he felt he needed to go there now, he had to check on the occupant whose name he couldn't remember.

The door marked K. Danvers stood like an invitation just waiting to be opened. He took his key and put it in the lock even though he could see her lying there, crying softly to herself. The check was done, "BD" was all he had to write. So why, he wondered, was he opening her door?

Even though he was quiet entering the room, she seemed to hear him and sighed a breath of frustration and embarrassment. She wiped her face, keeping her back to him.

"I wasn't doing anything," she said. "I'm in bed liked I'm supposed to be."

Tim moved over her and looked down. She lay like a present that needed to be opened, a sudden desire to see the red beneath her skin suddenly rising inside him, but it wasn't time yet.

"You think we've taken everything from you...? There's so much more," he said. He wasn't sure where the words were coming from but they felt right, they felt good to say. The girl turned to him finally, her cheeks flushed red, her eyes puffy with tears.

"What?" she asked, a slight tremble in her tone.

"You will lose everything. Even him."

The girl sat up, looking at Tim behind a furrowed brow. And now, finally, it was time. He wrapped his hand around the knife tucked into the waste of his pants, a knife he didn't remember putting there. He swung it before she had the time to react-- the blade skated across her neck. He wanted to see the blood, wanted to feel its warmth, but there was none.

She rose with a hop, pushing both arms against his chest. Before he knew what had happened he was across the room, his back stinging, his lungs desperate for air.

She remained where she was, her chest rising and falling in waves of anxiety. She didn't know what to do, what to say, only stared. But Tim wanted blood. He stood though his ribs were cracked, the pain searing. He rushed to her again, knife raised.

He could see it in her eyes, the panic and confusion, but it turned to something else by the time he reached her. He spiked the blade down-- she caught his wrist, stopping him like a vice, her fingers squeezed hard and though his bones didn't break, he could feel his nerves being crushed. She wasn't scared anymore, she was angry.

Her other hand jetted to his neck and a moment later the airflow stopped all together. The girl screamed a fierce scream. And then, he remembered her name. Kara. The quiet one, the one who he'd smile at when he brought her a cup of water in the middle of the night, filled to the brim with ice, that's how she liked it. Why was he here? Why was he trying to hurt one of the only residents he actually enjoyed seeing every night? How had he forgotten her name?

His world began to dim. Kara wasn't letting go, she wasn't even thinking about it. Her eyes were wild with fury. Tim stopped fighting. There was nothing left in him. He could hear the shuffling of guards running down the hall. But he thought only the cold dark that fell over him as he looked into her raging blue eyes. He thought of the girl he was supposed to meet for breakfast after work, he thought of her sitting there waiting for him. He hated the idea that she would think he stood her up. There was a flash of green. It hadn't happened in the world, only through his eyes. Kara's rage gave way to confusion again. Whatever it was, she had seen it too. She pulled her hands from his neck but it was too late. The room went black. The other orderlies screamed orders as they burst inside, their voices like buried echoes deep under the ocean. Sound and sight faded from him. And then, nothing.