RATED M for some violence and disturbing content. I don't own Batman or any related characters, the only thing that belongs to me is the story.
(Alright, I've written one fan fic on here and to say the least, it wasn't so good. I've put all my planning together to do one hopefully big story. I'm hoping to have quite a few chapters, how many I don't quite know, but I'm aiming somewhere from 3-6. So, I hope you like it.)
“Gotham has awoken to a true horror story. Arkham Asylum is currently in a full lock down, and Gotham’s Finest have confirmed sixteen nurses and doctors dead. Outside, on the streets themselves, ten more victims, early this morning, Lieutenant Harvey Bullock made a statement, confirming that all victims had multiple stab wounds, and had their throats slashed. The suspect at large, is Victor Zsasz, this is Vicki Vale with the early Gotham News, and we’ll keep you posted as the case progresses.”
The TV blared loudly in the dark room, Bruce Wayne’s eyes slowly fluttered open as he lay alone in The King Size bed, shirtless, every scar that covered his body, each a symbol of different situations, different psychopaths. He opted out of patrol last night, due to sleep deprivation, and now, hearing the news wake him up, he’s disappointed in himself. He knows he could have stopped the psycho.
“Well sir, I’m assuming you’re going to want breakfast in the cave?” An old friend happened to ask, pulling the curtains of the huge room open, letting the natural sunlight flood through, forcing Bruce’s eyes to snap open, his lips curling up into a sort of sneer, before letting out a cough and glancing at the clock. 1 PM already. Dammit, he needed to start on the case.
“I’m not in the mood for breakfast, Alfred. I have work to do...” Bruce stated coldly.
LATER THAT NIGHT
“Sir, not that I believe you’ll listen to me, but perhaps it’s time to come home? You’ve been out for hours and you haven’t found any leads on Zsasz, not to mention you spent all day in The Cave.....Sir?....Bruce?” Alfred asked through the comm-link, his tone progressively becoming more and more worried as he asked for Bruce’s attention.
“Alfred, i’m working.” Bruce replied beneath the cowl, retracting his index and middle finger from one of the ears on the cowl, turning off his outgoing frequencies, before continuing his work. He sat crouched in the dark alleyway, before dipping his index finger in a small dark red puddle, examining the liquid. It was fairly fresh, less than an hour. This he knew. He was close. Standing quickly, he began to sprint through the night, only the moon illuminating his path.
“Barbara, could you go ahead and get the phone for me?” Asked Jim Gordon, to his daughter, who was sitting on the futon, her legs curled up, a magazine in her hand. The bright red outfit blending in with the bright yellow wallpaper of the family room, of the small apartment. She was nineteen and still living with her father, after all, he was all she had left. And she all he had left. Especially after the murder of her mother. She found herself answering the phone, and moaning as she heard Bullock’s voice asking for her father.
“It’s his day off Harvey!....Uh-hu...Uh-hu!....My god...” She exclaimed, handing the phone to her father and covering her mouth while looking away, a look of pure disgust covering her delicate features. Her father listened intently, his brow moving occasionally, and his moustache twitching at minor details.
“So, we’ve got Zsasz on the loose, and now Freeze has decided to make a climactic return...? Five guys?...Christ...Alright, I’ll be down as soon as possi-” A grunt of pain finished his sentence as his knees buckled, four razor sharp batarangs slipped into the flesh of his back, and one in the back of each knee. The phone dropped from his hand as blood began to gush from each wound, his nose scrunching up as his face became more and more red, a look of panic in his eyes as his daughter screamed, before Jim Gordon was knocked over the head.
The knife slipped through skin as blood exited the wound in velvety red ribbons, the brunette woman’s eyes widening before she went into shock, tears slipping from her eyes before the knife slipped into her stomach again, and again, and again, until finally, the woman was nothing but a crumpled piece of meat in a pool of blood, the three other captives, two men and one woman, all tied up and gagged, crying, attempting to scream, although no telligible words or sounds could be made out.
“Oh piggy’s...When will you learn? I’m merely trying to save you..You, you should really be thanking me, without me, you would still be lifeless zombies, parading through everyday life without the simplest idea of what you would do two days from then...You’re already nothing but walking corpses...At least let me take away the pain...” Victor Zsasz pleaded to the three, tears in his eyes, blood smeared across his bare abdomen and ripped darkwash jeans, he dropped the large kitchen knife to the ground and reached up to his bald head, scratching it, pulling at the flesh before gradually running his fingers along the four large tally marks on his forehead. “Stop...Screaming....The screaming...STOP SCREAMING YOU SWINE! I’M TRYING TO HELP YOU!” He screamed, spittle slipping from his lips as the old abandoned storage facility went quiet, a single lamp illuminating the room, the floor covered in bodies. Victor Zsasz sat down on the floor and lifted the knife, placing a small tally on his lower left hip, a sick smile forming across his features, before looking up to examine his prisoners.
“You....You don’t look happy...You look at me with those eyes...Those sad...Those...Judging eyes...stop...STOP!” His voice was faulty, it was disturbed, it changed in tone, he couldn’t help it, when a potential tally was so close...He couldn’t handle himself... “Let me..Help you look happy...” He said, lunging forward onto one of the men, the gag slipping out of his mouth as Zsasz began to slip his knife into the eye sockets. The screaming was unbearable, causing the other captives to attempt to scream, even though they knew it was hopeless.
Only a block away, Bruce Wayne was sprinting towards screaming, although he had dealed with Victor Zsasz before, he knew he would be too late,unfortunately. It was only thirty seconds before Batman, clad in black and grey burst through a wall of the storage facility and lunged forward instantly, landing a strong punch on Zsasz’s head, forcing him off of the man, and for a split second, Bruce allowed himself to be distracted, as he stared at the man, no eyes, and a strange slash mark trailing over his throat, extremely fresh, and too messy for something of Zsasz’s careful work, the man was choking on his own blood, and it was then, that Bruce knew his punch, made Zsasz’s knife slip, he was the cause of this man’s inevitable death. To add insult to injury, he had become distracted, something you can never do with Victor Zsasz, and before he knew it, Batman was on the ground, a large cut trailing across his chest, and a psychopath on top of him, attempting to push a knife into his stomach. The only thing stopping him, Bruce’s loose grip on Zsasz’s wrist. This was not going well.
“LET. ME. LIBERATE YOU!” Zsasz screamed, using all of his power to push half of the blade into Bruce’s stomach, Bruce’s teeth clenched within his mouth, and his eyes squeezed closed, he’s suffered worse, but Zsasz really knew how to make you feel the burn. With a swift movement, Batman pushed upwards, throwing Zsasz off of him and across the room, the knife still in his hand, but that’s when things truly got sick. Victor Zsasz grinned a sick grin and held up his knife, running his tongue along it’s sides, ingesting Batman’s blood and letting out a giggle.
“This ends now, Zsasz.” He stated outright, lunging forward, ignoring the pain, ignoring the burn, and trying to ignore the fact that a man’s death was on his hands and to tell you the truth, not getting very good results. Although that was besides the point, he caught Zsasz’s hand and twisted it sideways, snapping it like a twig, forcing him to open his fingers, dropping the blade to the floor. It was then that Batman forced his knee into Zsasz’s ribcage seven times, making sure to inflict damage, before finaly landing one kick straight into his chest, forcing him to fly across the room and into a wall before falling to the ground in a heap, certainly unconscious. Bruce then placed his finger to his comm link. “Alfred, get the GCPD and an ambulance down to The East End, Davison Lane, we’ve got multiple dead and two injured.” His voice was cold as he kneeled down, un-gagging and untying the two men and having a moment of silence for the lose lives, and while Bruce was not a man of god, he said a silent prayer.
“Th-Thank you...” the woman said, trembling. Batman merely looked at her, the cold expressionless look on his face.
“You’re safe now-” The blade flew into her forehead, splattering blood onto Bruce cowl as Zsasz leaped onto his back, biting down hard on his neck, certainly getting through the reinforced cowl. How? He didn’t really know, and at this point, he didn’t really care, he flipped Zsasz over his shoulder and brought him down hard onto the solid ground before landing eight solid hits in on his face, watching the various bones break, and disorient, he so wanted to put the dog down...But he stopped himself as Harvey Bullock sprinted in, a task force behind him, they rounded up Zsasz, and began to take out the bodies.
“There’s nothin’ you coulda’ done.” Bullock reassured a distraught Batman while lighting a cigarette and taking a hard pull on it.
“Yes. Yes there is something I could have done.” He didn’t feel like getting a reassuring speech, this night was a failure. He knew it was, these people were dead because of him, and he didn’t need some fat cop trying to tell him otherwise.
“Well, yer’ gonna have t’ get over it. We got a real case for ya, Jim’s place was broken into, he’s in critical condition, and Barbara...Well...Barbara’s gone...” Harvey said, a look of disappointment on his face as he lowered his head. The Batman quickly snapped out of his tantrum and stared Bullock down for a few moments. “And one last thing, th’ weapons used t’ take down Jim...They were yer’ little batarangs...”
“I’m on it Harvey, Tell Jim I’ll find her...No matter what...” His voice was cold, a sneer slipped across his face as he vanished without another word, into the night, he wouldn’t let Barbara die, he would not fail her, he would not fail Gordon...And he would not fail Gotham...
To be Continued.