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Season 0: Year One C35: Two-Pronged Attack (End) (Paid Patrons)
🕑 Added 2025-09-16 09:40:43 +0000 UTCDescending deeper into the madhouse, Bruce felt oddly at ease despite the horrifying atmosphere and haunting screams that bounced through the twisting, claustrophobic corridors.
Then he stopped before a garish clown's face painted in blood and examined the message scrawled beneath: 'A Bat and a Crocodile walks into a bar…' With a large arrow pointing to the right.
He glanced at the corridor branching off that would take him deeper into the asylum's bowels, then the arrow's direction which, according to the facility map, led to Sector 331, otherwise known as 'the Zoo' where the more monstrous Metas were contained.
Activating his cowl's X-ray function, the Dark Knight scanned through the walls in both directions, finding motionless silhouettes in each path. Most were already cold and lifeless, but a few still showed heartbeats, however faint.
Yet it was the massive shape that gave him pause.
Waylon Jones dropped on all fours, tail sweeping behind as he gathered the remains and tore into what, like him, had once been human. Deeper down the chamber to the left, another creature answered with its own bellow—wings beating against the walls, successfully drawing the Reptilian Meta and his ire away from the people he was feeding on.
Bruce doubted it was intentional, though…
In fact, he very much doubted there was any reasoning behind Man-Bat's behavior at all beyond the primitive drives for territory and sustenance.
Still, Bruce was thankful regardless.
Judging by Croc's skeletal structure, he must have mutated even further during his confinement, beyond the capacity of Bruce's current arsenal.
Tranquilizers weren't instantaneous, after all, and by the time Killer Croc was weakened enough to be taken down, he could easily slaughter a dozen more people and then some. Bruce blocked out the inhuman screams and the building's structural protests as he crept into the chamber, hauling each and every one he could away from the carnage.
The Dark Knight tended to the survivors' injuries before sealing Sector 331's entrance with a welding torch. The barrier wouldn't last, especially with two apex predators battering against it, but every precious second counted. Once the immediate crisis passed, Bruce could then lure them into the open to test the Batmobile's new weapons systems.
Next, he barricaded seven survivors in a secure area: Two nurses and five aides who could hopefully provide basic medical care to each other, and marched onward.
Much as he wanted to escort them out immediately, there were bound to be more people in the deeper sections of the asylum, all likely in greater peril than they.
Punching his way through two sub-levels of deranged inmates and rescuing twelve more people along the way, the Dark Knight finally reached a darkened chamber basking in red under an emergency light in the corner. Yet, it wasn't the crimson lighting that stopped him cold, but the mournful weeping and maniacal laughter blended.
Bruce stepped into the chamber on full alert.
The moment his boot crossed the threshold, movement exploded from the shadows and a curved tang whistled toward his throat.
His hand snapped up, catching the assassin's wrist and redirecting the strike before driving his knee into the attacker's solar plexus.
The League operative instantly doubled over, giving Bruce the leverage to pivot and launch him across the room just as steel sang behind him.
Bruce put up his forearm, gauntleted arm sparking as he deflected the second katana and grabbed the assassin's extended arm, using the man's own momentum to swing him like a club at his recovering partner.
Both killers crashed into the far wall, their weapons clattering to their sides, while the Dark Knight himself stumbled backward and caught on something that shifted underfoot.
Brilliant white light immediately flooded the chamber, banishing the shadow and revealing a mandala of dismembered limbs arranged in the League's symbol.
The Dark Knight's fists clenched by his sides as he studied the demented display, but the rational part of his mind immediately identified a problem: 'This isn't the League's style.'
Although Ra's al Ghul certainly enjoyed sending messages, this level of psychotic theatricality was beneath both the Demon's Head and Talia. It did, however, bear all the hallmarks of—”Joker!" The instant the name left his lips, manic cackling erupted behind him.
Bruce spun, eyes narrowing at the assassins whose skin now bore patches of chalk white. His jaw tightened even further as they raised their heads, revealing blood-smeared grins and eyes that swirled with madness and glowing specks of viridescent.
The Dark Knight launched forward, closing the distance between himself and the toxin-warped assassins. His cape billowed as he led with a straight punch that caught the nearest operative in the sternum. The man staggered but didn't fall, reflexes allowing him to pivot and threw a curved dagger toward the Dark Knight's ribs.
Bruce inched away from the slash, forearm deflecting the strike while his other hand flew into the assassin's jaw.
Bone cracked, but the Joker Toxin and his training seemed to have dulled the man's pain receptors.
The second assassin flanked left, moving gracefully despite his compromised mental state, twin blades carving intersecting arcs that forced Bruce to give ground.
Years of combat experience guided the Dark Knight's movements as he ducked under a horizontal slash and elbowed the attacker's temple.
Pressing his advantage, Bruce nearly folded the man in half with a horsekick. The assassin wheezed but remained standing in spite, his toxin-addled system refusing to register the damage even as Batman's strikes continued to take their toll.
With both operatives hurt and disoriented, Bruce finally moved to end the fight. Leaping toward the first assassin and catching his wrist with the Batclaw, he prepared a knockout blow to the base of the assassin's skull.
But before he could, the other League operative suddenly swung his sword at his ally's spine, forcing Bruce to intercept the killing blow, only for a blade to find the gap in his armor and open a burning line across his abdomen.
Holding his hand against the wound, feeling warm blood seep between his fingers, Bruce straightened and studied the assassins as they circled him, their chalk-white faces split by wild crimson grins.
Settling into his stance, blood still warm against his palm, he watched as the assassins prowled in opposite directions, forcing him to split his attention. The first assassin feinted with his curved blade before snapping a front kick toward the Caped Crusader's wounded midsection, who held his ankle in place.
Twisting sharply, he sent the man stumbling sideways. The second operative wasted no time joining the fight, thrusting his dagger toward Bruce's neck, which he parried and deflected while driving his palm heel into the assassin's nose.
Cartilage crunched, the man reversed his grip and slashed downward at his attacker's collarbone, only for the edge to slide and scrape the armored plating.
Then, he grabbed the assassin's wrist and drove his knee into the extended elbow. The joint hyperextended with an audible pop, but instead of dropping his weapon, the operative simply switched hands and continued the assault.
Bruce trapped the steel in the fins of his gauntlet, headbutted the assassin in the bridge of the nose, then hammered an overhand right into the other's temple.
Both killers staggered but remained upright. The first assassin recovered first, launching a spinning heel kick that Bruce barely avoided. The second followed with a diagonal slash that would have opened the Dark Knight's throat if he hadn't side-stepped in time.
A thrust came at his jaw, nicking the side of his cheek.
Bruce grunted, trapping the arm and shattering the blade, but the assassin continued to hold on in spite of… A broken blade was better than none, after all.
Then he dropped into a crouch, allowing the second blade to pass harmlessly overhead, sweeping both assassins' legs out from under them. They dropped but rolled to their feet, clumsily maneuvering away from his strikes. That's when the first assassin suddenly spun and drove his blade toward his partner's heart.
Bruce growled, stopping the killing blow yet again just as the blade's tip traced a thin red line across the fabric.
The operative instantly lashed out at his extended arm while his partner drove a knee into the Dark Knight's ribs. Bruce twisted clear of both attacks, his patience finally exhausted, not from the casualties he couldn't prevent, not even from his injuries, but from watching the madmen pervert and weaponize his principles.
Deciding the hell with restraint, his hand moved to his utility belt and withdrew electrified knuckle-dusters adjusted from lethal voltage to incapacitate.
Slamming his fists together, the Dark Knight let electricity arc between the contacts while leveling a cold glare at the assassins. "Who's first?" The first assassin lunged with his broken blade and was greeted by Bruce's electrified knuckles as voltage coursed through his body.
Muscles seized, he crumpled backward.
The second assassin slashed at the Dark Knight's exposed back.
Bruce turned and hammered his electrified knuckles into the assassin's sternum, lifting him off the ground before grabbing his leg and hurling him to the ground.
Both operatives struggled to rise, the electrical discharges having disrupted their nervous systems in ways not even their training could compensate for.
The first assassin swayed forth only to get an electrified fist to the kidney.
His partner fared not much better when the Dark Knight's knuckle found his jaw, snapping his head back… After zip-tying both attackers, Bruce stealthily snuck into the complex toward a tunnel where manic giggling could faintly be heard if one turned one's ear just right.
He drove his boot into the metal barrier, sending it crashing inward as fifteen bloody faces welcomed him as one, their hands still wrapped around severed limbs they'd been… Toying with.
“… Who's next?“
.
.
.
Leaping over a desk, she hurled furniture behind her to block the rampaging madmen in pursuit. The brunette slid beneath a collapsed beam, hair whipping as she flung knives at the approaching horde.
The poisoned blades dropped several assassins, but couldn't stop the Enhanced closing in.
'It wasn't supposed to be like this…' Talia thought, nearly planting face-first on the ground as the ground shook violently beneath her feet.
She and Ra's had considered countless scenarios prior to her trip to Gotham, they'd anticipated so many variables... But who could have foreseen that damn Clown?
Who would have expected his months of absence was to develop a Toxin that could rewrite human behavior entirely? Talia had been lucky to avoid the initial toxin cloud, or so she'd thought.
She wasn't as certain anymore, not with her subordinates and Bane hot on her heels.
She clicked her tongue as the ceiling suddenly gave way, flooding the corridor with loose bricks and dust. Through the debris emerged the scaled, jutting claws of Killer Croc.
His searching hand alone was nearly the size of her torso as it snatched two toxin-crazed League members. She, however, was made of sterner stuff and managed to escape certain death by leaping over the grasping appendage, meeting the Beast's beady eyes below.
That seemed to enrage it further, claws widening the opening as it forced its head through while croaking, "Hungry... So hungry. Helllp—!“
“—Bad lizard, Waylon! Bad lizard!“ A voice mocked through the speakers, sending the already enraged creature into deeper frenzy.
Scowling, Talia spared a glance at the battle just as Bane's punch knocked a tooth loose from the Meta struggling to slide down from the opening.
Heart pounding in her chest, she made herself small in a dark alcove to watch and wait for a chance to escape.
Bane was already massive. With Venom coursing through his system, he stood over two meters tall, but even he looked tiny beside the Reptile. Ironically, the size disparity just happened to work in his favor, for while Croc had to squeeze through the quarters crouched, Bane still had his mobility in the claustrophobic space.
Bane drove his fist into Croc's jaw with thunderous force, but the Meta didn't even flinch, claws raking across his chest, shredding kevlar and drawing blood as the Enhanced staggered backward.
Bane countered with a uppercut to the creature's ribs that would've shattered concrete, earning himself an annoyed grunt and a tail whip that launced him into the wall where he was then showered by debris. The Enhanced groaned and pushed himself back to his feet, wiping blood from his split lip as Croc roared in challenge.
Attention captured by their exchange, Talia nearly missed the presence behind her. 'Nearly' being the key word.
Spinning on one heel, she lashed out at the figure, her strike missing as he yanked her hair back. "Well, well, well... Daddy's little princess, all alone and scared. How's your old man?"
"Joker!" Talia hissed through gritted teeth.
"That's right, sweetheart! Uncle J is here to play!" The guard stepped into the light, revealing chalk-white skin as his disguise began to peel away. "You guys planned a playdate with the Bat and didn't invite me? How terribly rude! And here I thought we were all such good friends."
“No one wants a rabid dog at the table, Joker."
Cackling to himself, the Joker leaned beside her to observe the battle behind and grinned. "From where I'm standing, dollie, there are only rabid dogs at the table—" He extended his hand, clenching a smoke grenade filled with Toxin. "Including you!"
The moment she'd seen the Joker, Talia had noticed the canister in his palm and entertained him because, but now that the gas had spread, she had no scruples left.
Spin-kicking the Joker away, Talia pressed her sleeve to her face, spinning frantically for an escape.
Behind her, the killers were still tearing each other apart.
Ahead, deadly vapor was spreading in every direction, inching ever closer.
Every direction promised death except for the gaping hole Croc had smashed through.
Talia sprinted toward it as explosives detonated overhead, entombing the Joker beneath cascading debris. And through the smoke and dust, a dark figure swooped down.
When Bruce Wayne first stumbled into her father's domain, he'd been all sharp angles and hollow cheeks, grief etched into every line of his face. His expensive clothes had hung loose on a frame that spoke of sleepless nights and skipped meals.
Even his movements had been rather… Uncertain, as if he were still learning how to exist comfortably in his own skin.
The figure descending through the smoke bore little resemblance to that shattered man.
Talia flinched when he seized her waist, certain he'd drive her into the ground, but he only fired a grappling-hook, hoisting them clear of the Toxin.
“You look like hell, Bruce." She smiled, tracing circles on his chest.
"I'll live." He replied curtly.
Talia expected nothing less.
"Charming as always.“ She rolled her eyes as they landed, pretending to yelp when he twisted her arm behind her back and pushed her against the wall. “You are rougher than usual… Is it because of her? Catwoman, is it?”
"You murdered twelve men." Bruce accused, white lenses meeting hers.
Gaze lingering on his for a moment, she dropped her eyes to his lips, briefly fantasizing about the heated nights they'd spent in the cold of the Himalayas, and how pleasant it had been to stave off boredom with other... Activities.
Talia had had suitors in the past. Even Bane himself had made his interest clear, but there hadn't been anyone quite like him… Quite like—”Bruce.“
Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe she'd truly bought into the act, but her heart suddenly raced even faster than it had when she was being chased down by the lunatics.
The ground shook, but neither seemed to notice, their attention locked on each other. “Come back to the League with me. Defeat my father in combat and claim the title of Demon's Head."
"That'll never happen."
"Why not? You have the skill, the intellect—"
"Because I'm not a killer, Talia." He never said 'Unlike you,' but she heard it in his tone nevertheless. Gently, she slid out of his grip, making no move to attack, only to cup his face. “I’m not here to debate ethics with you, Bruce. My father isn't himself. Whatever's taken hold of him, it's winning."
“And yet here you are, doing his bidding.”
Ignoring the accusation, her hands fell limp to her sides. "He wants your body, Bruce. Whatever infected him is killing him slowly. He needs me to bring you back so he can take yours over."
Bruce narrowed his eyes, searching her expression for any hint of deception. "You still murdered twelve men.“
"A necessary sacrifice. You know how paranoid my father is." Most of the assassins accompanying her were her father's most trusted aides. Although they'd always been respectful to her, if Talia had shown so much as an inkling of a traitorous thought, they would have killed her without hesitation.
"No sacrifice of human life is ever necessary. And last I checked, you are your father most-trusted.“
"I haven't been since..." She trailed off, avoiding his eyes as a sigh escaped her lips. "It doesn't matt—"
The floor exploded, interrupting her as Bane crashed through in a shower of concrete and rebar.
"Ba-Batman!"
Bane bellowed, struggling to his feet, even forgetting his arm in the rubble, but he was only the side-dish.
The main course was already charging after them on all fours.
“Run!” Tossing a handful of explosive Batarangs that blew a hole in the ceiling, Bruce grabbed her waist. Her heart fluttering, Talia stepped on his boot and winked. “You don’t mind, do you?”
Floor after floor they crashed through, grappling hook pulling them upward through debris and dust while Croc scrambled after them like a clumsy five-year-old, all too eager to sink his teeth into the Bat's throat.
They finally burst through the asylum's roof and landed hard in the moonlit courtyard. Breathing in the fresh air, the daughter of Ra's Al Ghul and the Caped Crusader turned to face the Reptile.
“B-Bat-meat! Bat-meat! BAT-MEAT!“
Cape billowing, Batman reached for his utility belt. "Talia, can you—"
"Keep up?" She was already moving, retrieving twin blades strapped to her thigh while circling left. "Try not to slow me down, beloved."
Croc's head swiveled between them, intelligence flickering behind bestial rage.
He chose Bruce first, surprisingly speedy for something so gargantuan. The Dark Knight fired his Batclaw upward, the hook catching the asylum's damaged bell tower as he swung clear of snapping jaws.
Talia struck the moment Croc committed to his lunge, her blade finding the gap between scales at his ankle. The creature roared and backhanded empty air as she rolled beneath his tail.
Bruce landed behind the beast and immediately hurled three explosive Batarangs in quick succession.
The first two detonated against Croc's shoulders, staggering him forward.
The third caught him in the back of the knee, bringing him down to one leg.
"ISSS that all you've got, Bat?" Croc's claws raked across the courtyard stones as he spun, tail whipping a wide arc.
Bruce leaped over the sweep, but Croc's massive hand caught his cape mid-air, yanking him down hard.
The Dark Knight twisted as he fell, driving his electrified knuckles into the creature's wrist. Voltage coursed through scaled flesh, but Croc only laughed. "TicklesSs!“
Talia vaulted off a piece of debris, both blades aimed at Croc's neck. The beast caught her ankle at the last second, swinging her like a club toward Bruce. The Dark Knight fired his Batclaw again, the line wrapping around Talia's waist as he pulled her clear of the wall she was about to splatter against.
"His hide's too thick." Bruce muttered, studying the minimal damage their attacks had inflicted.
"Then we don't attack the hide." Talia's eyes gleamed. "The eyes, the mouth, joints where the scales thin..."
Croc charged again, keeping his head low, arms spread wide to prevent them from flanking him again. Bruce leaped right while Talia dove left, but the creature seemed to have anticipated this, catching the Dark Knight across the ribs and launching him into the asylum wall.
Bruce grunted, peeling himself from the brick and wiping the blood dripping from the corner of his lips.
Meanwhile, Croc was already advancing on Talia, who danced backward, flicking throwing knives at his eyes; knives the Beast effortlessly batted aside, but the distraction was enough. Flying to a gargoyle twenty feet above Croc's head, the Dark Knight used the line to swing in a wide arc onto the Meta's back.
Electrified fingers found the beady eyes on the sides of his flat, elongated head, digging deep into soft tissue.
The attack didn't merely tickle this time, judging from the ear-splitting shriek that followed. Croc thrashed about trying to throw him off, and the Dark Knight obliged, firing another line around the creature's throat as he swung clear just as Talia sprinted up Croc's arm, daggers plunging through his eyelid.
Blind and choking, Croc roared again, only to get a mouthful of explosive Batarangs delivered directly into his open throat. The muffled explosion staggered the beast backward, blood frothing between his chipped fangs. But instead of falling, Croc's rage only intensified.
His massive hand swept Talia aside, sending her crashing into debris.
"TEA-TEAR YOUR HEAD OFF!"
Bruce barely any time to raise his arms before Croc collided with him like a freight train, claws wrapping around his torso and lifting him off the ground.
They crashed through the courtyard's stone railing, hanging suspended over the churning ocean that waited far below Arkham's cliffs.
Bruce's hand found his utility belt, fingers closing around one last explosive.
He couldn't detonate it against Croc's arm without taking half his own face off, but he couldn't let the Meta crush him either. After a moment of hesitation, he did the only thing he could and hurled the Batarang between Killer Croc's legs.
The explosion sent cracks spreading through the damaged, unkempt stone railing.
Ancient masonry groaned under the stress before chunks of carved stone, Bruce and Croc alike tumbled into the darkness below.
Pounding his bloodied knuckles into Croc's jaw, Bruce twisted free as they tumbled.
Batman's cape unfurled, only for the beast to snatch it mid-deployment, shredding the cloth and leaving him with worthless scraps that did next to nothing to slow his descent.
They plummeted into the waves and vanished, swallowed by the dark waters.
Above, Talia rose to her feet, holding her bleeding wounds as she ran where her 'beloved' had been mere moments ago. Staring at the ocean below while sirens wailed in the distance, she whispered to the indifferent sea. "Bruce...“
“The Bat's dead!“
One of the inmates who'd snuck closer to watch the commotion screamed behind the wall of the asylum.
“THE BAT'S DEAD!!!“
