As I exhaled, wisps of smoke fell down from my parted lips, snaking their way past my chin before fading into the air. I flicked the cigarette onto the ground, where its red-orange ember died beneath my shoe. Adjusting my hat, I slipped into the stolen worker's uniform and approached the building, badge in hand. The tired guard nodded and unlocked the gate, letting me through.
I headed to the break room, unlocked the door, and stepped inside. The room smelled of old coffee and stale air. A worker slumped in his chair, sighed, and grumbled, "I don't get paid enough for this."
"They're just—" The conversation stopped as they noticed me. Nervously shifting, one of them continued, "—just need a lot of therapy," taking a bite of his sandwich.
I closed the door and rummaged through the fridge, grabbing a water bottle. Turning back to them, I said, "Hey, your secret is safe with me. Mind if I join you?"
"Not at all," one replied, scratching his brown beard. "Rough day?"
"Rough life," I shrugged.
"No kidding, especially working here. I'm Sam, and this bozo is Jake," he said, pointing to his friend.
"Nice to meet you, Adam!" Jake said, reading my name tag. "Nice to meet you too!"
Sam offered me a bag of chips. "Which floor are you on? I don't think I've seen you around."
"Usually four, but tonight I'm covering floor five. What about you?"
"That's our floor, but we're stationed in the front," Sam said.
"What's it like there?" I asked, popping a chip in my mouth. They exchanged serious glances.
"Pretty grim," Sam said with a strained smile. "Our floor holds some notorious inmates—"
Jake cut him off. "The devil himself is in the back room. He's batshit crazy. We hear his demonic laughter from the front. Honestly, I don't get why we don't have the death penalty. Batman's great, my kids love him, but that thing back there should have been executed a long time ago."
"You didn't have to say that," Sam said, folding his arms. "What do you think, Adam?"
I set down my chips. "What do I think? No one's ever asked me that," I chuckled. "I think Jake's right. I've never understood it either. My dad and I argue about it all the time. That piece of human waste has caused so much suffering."
Sam ran a hand through his floppy blonde hair. "Yeah, no kidding." Glancing at his watch, he added, "Shoot, we're gonna be late. Nice meeting you, Adam. You should clean up that cut on your cheek. It looks pretty bad."
Jake grabbed a first aid kit from a nearby cabinet. "All the medical supplies are in here. I'll catch up with you later."
"Nice meeting you," I waved as they left. The door slammed shut behind them, and I dropped my head onto the table, groaning in pain. I shifted my shoulder, wincing. "Damn, that staple gun I swiped from the clerk is no replacement for Alfred's stitching." I emptied the box I had brought with me and adjusted my name tag.
I walked to the elevator, a guard peered out from his watch station. "I'm delivering some meds," I said, flashing my badge and the box. He gave a nod and let me through. I moved towards the elevator, each step feeling like a weight pulling me down. Exhaustion pressed on me, and I adjusted my collar as I took a deep, shuddering breath. My fear had sharpened into a cold, relentless anger. As the elevator doors finally opened, I moved toward the glass panel, my hands trembling slightly as I pulled out Tim's hacking device. With a few swipes, the alarm system triggered, sending staff scrambling toward the front. Below me, minor criminals were let out of their cells on the first floor—a small inconvenience for finally confronting this lunatic. I tossed the device aside, my heart pounding louder than the blaring alarms, and tapped on the glass.
![The Knowhere Girl [New Version] de God_of_SpringOnions](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/368529424-80-k941004.jpg)
The cell lights flickered to life, illuminating a scene of sheer horror. The bright, sterile light revealed the walls, once white and clean, now grotesquely splattered with blood. A crowbar painted in crimson was pictured beside a message marking the date of my death. Damian's suit was pinned to the wall. I staggered back, my breath catching in my throat. My eyes widened in disbelief as I whispered, "What the hell..."
"Hehehe!" The eerie, high-pitched laughter reverberated through the room as a chair creaked and slowly spun around. The figure strapped into a straitjacket twisted his head at an unnatural angle, his pasty face illuminated by a nightmarish grin. Red streaked his fingers, dripping onto the floor. "What, you don't like it? Was it too much?" he taunted, his voice oozing with sadistic glee. "I made it myself!" He gestured toward his creation. "To remind you of our time together! The guards here didn't seem to appreciate it. They're such party poopers."
My body felt paralyzed, every instinct screaming to flee or to attack, but I was frozen in place. My hands were numb as if they were weighed down by invisible chains. My mind raced with terror and rage.
In a burst of frustration, I slammed my hand against the glass, gripping Tarantula's mask tightly. "Batman might let you get away with things, but I don't!" I roared.
His laughter erupted again, and a maniacal sound infected the air. Each strike of laughter felt like poison rushing through my veins and crippling me. A chaotic swirl of emotions fevered in my mind. Was this even real? "Boy Blunder was always my least favorite. I could never wipe that smile off his face. Hehe, but it's gone now, isn't it?! HAHAHAHAHA!" His laughter was a brutal assault, pushing me to the edge of sanity.
I slammed my fists into the glass. It shattered into a storm of sharp fragments that rained down around me. The glass crunched under my shoes with every step toward him. I drew my gun, the weapon trembling in my hand as his laughter continued to pierce the air.
"And you! The child~" He sang, his voice dripping with twisted affection. "You're my favorite!"
"Shut up!" I screamed, my voice heaved with anguish.
"Ahhhh, your screams are delicious!" he hummed, delighting in my distress.
My hands shook as I raised the gun, my breath hitching as panic and anger threatened to overwhelm me. "S-SHUT UP! YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR EVERYTHING!" I yelled, struggling to keep my voice steady.
"That's Daddy's boy! And I'm not talking about Batsy, you're my robin." He wiggled his legs playfully, his eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. "Remember what you said to me, kiddy?"
I dropped my gun, desperately trying to block out his voice by clamping my hands over my ears, but it was useless. His taunts cut through me, each word a knife in my already shattered mind. I felt like I was suffocating, trapped in a relentless cycle of fear and despair. Red dripped from the walls, staining the floor, a horrific reminder of the chaos around me. "Stop, stop, stop!" I begged silently, but the madness only intensified.
"Don't worry, your Ol' Pops will remind you!" His grin widened. I curled into myself, tucking my head between my knees, trying to escape the overwhelming terror.
"Awwww, why so serious, Jason?" he cooed, his voice a venomous whisper that seemed to seep into my very soul.
**30 minutes earlier**
"Ugh," I groaned, pressing my throbbing head as I slowly regained consciousness. The light around me gradually focused, and I saw Tim leaning over me, with Duke untying my feet.
Stephine let out a sigh of relief. "You're finally awake!"
"What happened?" I asked, struggling to sit up. My mind raced, trying to piece together the missing moments.
