Chapter Fourteen: Escape
From the audio logs of Dr. Hugo Strenj
Strenj: This is Doctor Hugo Strenj of Arkham Asylum. July the twenty-second, nineteen forty. I am joined today, once again, by Jonathan Crane.
Jonathan, how are you?
Crane: …
Strenj: Jonathan, please. I am not in the mood for your… moods. I am ever so tired. I did not sleep a wink last night, and yet I remained groggy as can be for the entirety of it. What’s more, I have misplaced some very important items to me, and oh… I just need you to cooperate for once. Please?
Crane: …
Strenj: Jonathan! What is it that troubles you so? Is it the restraints? You keep looking down at them, I can see that. Are they too tight? Here, let me see - No!
Hgh…. hkkk!
Crane: Patience, Doctor. Patience and planning!
Strenj: Aghh! J… J… Joh….. hkkk!
Crane: I daresay you’ve been the most impatient man I’ve ever dealt with. It’s no wonder your plans always falter so completely. But mine… I’ve waited for this day since our very first encounter.
Strenj: P…PLEE…HAKKKK!
Crane: I know, the lights are dimming, and it’s hard to focus. Soon, you will die, but please, hold on for just a few seconds more. I want to savour this… FEAR. You’ve earned it. And you should be thankful for the mercy I’m showing you, for your death should be FAR worse than the one I’m gifting to you now.
Strenj: Hk……..Hk…….
Crane: That’s right, everything you’ve done is for naught. Heheheh… die with that knowledge. DIE!
Fucking invalid. Ptoof! Aha… and what do we have here in your pocket? A loaded syringe with knockout drugs? Surely meant for me, but SO much more fitting for the guard outside the door. Good night, Doctor.
(Shuffling noises, then a knock, sound of a door opening)
Guard: Hey! Ugh!
Crane: Shhh! Hugo’s sleeping, you don’t want to wake him, do you?
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
“You’ve got some nerve, bucko.”
I was jolted awake by the sound of a very angry sounding female. Rubbing my eyes and regaining my faculties, I sat up in my bed and stared into the eyes of Miss Julie Madison. Alfred, you will pay dearly for this intrusion, I thought to myself.
“Julie, what a pleasant -”
“Save it. Just where do you get off giving me the slip AGAIN?!”
“I… I’m sorry, it’s not that I don’t want to see you -”
“I’ll have you know that I put off two very important meetings for you because I thought you would want to see me again. Do you have any idea what this might have done to my career?”
There was nothing I could say in reply, and my only option was to keep silent as she continued lambasting me in a tirade of angry rhetoric. This went on for some time, the details of which I am a tad foggy on, but what I can say with the utmost confidence is that I both wounded her feelings quite deeply, and her pride even moreso.
“So what is it? Huh? What do you have to say for yourself? Why couldn’t you just be a man and say you aren’t interested?” she fumed.
“But Julie, I AM interested! Only…”
“Only what?” Her eyes burnt holes through my own, and I fumbled through all possible narratives that may work to my advantage. In the end, only a lie would suffice.
“Only I was overwhelmed. Insecure, and I daresay, apprehensive that someone of your station should want anything to do with the likes of me.”
She studied me for a moment, trying to peer through the wall of dishonesty I’d placed between us. Alas, the poor girl could not distinguish between truth and falsehood, as I was becoming far too adept at the game of deception, and her countenance softened ever so slightly.
“You… really?”
“On my honor, Miss Madison, I am utterly taken with you. But I have been long away from my home for many years, and the man that the newspapers paint me to be is a complete stranger to me. I possess none of the confidence or self-assuredness one might assume of me. Money is only money, and I am, admittedly, rather lacking in many of the social areas that count the most in life.” I felt ill at this forced and exaggerated admission, but I must say that the smile I was rewarded with helped to lessen my disgust.
“Is that… because of your… past?” she asked shyly.
It took me a moment to understand what she had been referring to. My parents. All I could say in reply was, “Yes.”
“So then, you really want to see me again? You’re not just saying that to avoid awkwardness, right? Because I can take the rejection, if only you’d be honest with me.”
She couldn’t; else, she wouldn’t have been there in the first place, but I let it slide. “Indeed I’d love to see you again. If, that is, you’d be willing to spare me another chance.”
She considered another while, our eyes locked in a sort of battle.
“One more chance,” she relented, at last. “But I’m busy the next couple days, since now I have to make up for lost time. On account of you,” she clarified.
“Again, I am most dreadfully sorry.”
“You’d better be,” she smiled hesitantly. “But if you ever call me Miss Madison again, I’ll slug ya one.” She winked at me playfully on her way out, “Call me, and I mean it. Alfred’s an absolute doll, but if I ever have to speak with him in your place again I’ll rain all hell down upon you both.”
It was my turn to smile. The girl had endeared herself to me in a way I hadn’t expected.
“Wha’d she say?” Alfred appeared with a devious grin in my doorway a short time after.
“That if she ever has to speak with you again, it will be the end of us.”
His smile vanished, “Oye, I been nuffin but on me best behavior ‘round the lass. What’s her problem, then?”
“That you’re just a tad overbearing, if I had to venture a guess.”
“Bollocks to that!” he huffed.
From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City
Case No: HS 07/22/40/7428
Incident: Double Homicide
Reporting Officer: Cptn. James Gordon Date: Jul. 22, 1940
We were called to Arkham Asylum at 0800 hours this morning. The acting director of the institution, and lead psychiatrist, Doctor Hugo Strenj, had been found murdered in one of the consultation chambers. Asphyxiated to death by what appears to be long strings of fabric torn from clothing.
The guard stationed outside of the room was also found murdered. Looks like he was dosed with too much of a heavy duty tranquilizer. His name: Bailey Myers. He had only been employed with Arkham for a week.
Our man who committed these murders, allegedly, is Jonathan Crane, formerly known as the Streetnapper. He’s now on the loose and at large in Gotham City, and we don’t currently have any leads as to where he’s headed.
I wish that were the end of it, but it gets a lot worse. I’ll have to file a separate report for the rest.
From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City
Case No: HS 07/22/40/7429
Incident: Prison Break
Reporting Officer: Cptn. James Gordon Date: Jul. 22, 1940
Jonathan Crane, aka The Streetnapper, escaped from Arkham this morning, allegedly killing two innocents in his wake. I talked to the staffers who were manning the lobby, and 3 security guards who had been taken hostage. This is what I can piece together from it, as it happened.
Crane killed Hugo Strenj and a security guard, then made his way through the cell blocks and set free a few of Gotham’s most dangerous criminals. First on the list is the Joker, who we only just caught a short time ago, and is perhaps the most dangerous of the entire lot.
Second is one that goes by the name of Cyrus Gold. He’s a complicated case, but he tends to live in dark, dank, and isolated places. Under bridges, in the sewer system - locations like that.
Third, Victor Zsasz. A deluded freak and a merciless killer. My first case on the job when I came here was dealing with him, and I’m not looking forward to having to stare that devil in his face again.
Why he chose these men to free is unknown, and the guards say that it seemed completely random, as he just needed a few others to help him take hostages. They took a couple guards, held knives to their necks, and walked out the front door to their freedom, and assumedly all of them went on their separate ways after knocking the guards outcold.
All four of our killers are at large and dangerous. I’ll be getting word to the newspapers as soon as possible. In the meantime, I’ll be requesting that we put the Batman Taskforce on hiatus until we can bring these men to justice. The Batman is no longer the biggest threat this city has to deal with, whether his critics want to believe it or not.
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
“Sir!” Alfred appeared to me in my study, pale and sickly.
“Alfred, you look unwell.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“I bloody well am!” he cried. “I was just listening to the radio… last night, did ye take a gander over at Arkham like ye said you would?”
“I did, in fact. Why?”
He looked at me skeptically, unsure how to proceed. I had never seen such a look cross his features before, as it appeared he suddenly did not know me. “What… what did you do there?”
“It’s a long story, I’m afraid. I found out who our imposter was, and that Strenj seems to be loosely tied with the Nazi party in Germany. A sympathizer, of sorts.”
“What did you do, Master Wayne?” his tone was accusatory, and I was taken aback.
“Nothing, Alfred, I swear. I poked around his office a bit. Why? What’s happened?”
He swallowed, and a flush of color dashed his cheeks, if only for a brief few seconds as he collected his thoughts. “Hugo Strenj is dead. Jon Crane, the Joker, and two more assailants is on the loose.”
I stood up in a panic, “They’ve broken out!?!?”
“Aye… Bruce, is there any way that -”
“No. No, I only…” I remembered then that when last I’d met with Strenj, he’d accidentally dosed himself with what I’d assumed was a sedative. Could it instead have been a severe dosage of Crane’s poison? No, it wouldn’t have knocked him out that quickly. Then what? What could have happened? It had to have been Crane or the Joker… for if it wasn’t… mayhaps I was the last one to have seen Hugo in a proper state! I’d even told the desk staff that he had taken a nap. Oh, what muddled work I’ve made of it all!
“Go on, spit it out!’ Alfred called my wits back about me.
“We can’t panic, Alfred. Something is odd about this business, and we need to find out exactly what’s happened.”
“What’s happened is there are four criminals at large, and two of ‘em you know first-hand how dangerous they are! And the man you were investigating fer this imposter nonsense is dead… and only the Batman at the scene of the murder, as far as I can figger it!”
“Alfred, I told you. This wasn’t me. It couldn’t have been. I didn’t go anywhere near any of the patients, this was completely their doing. It’s just… an odd bit of a coincidence in timing.” Saying it out loud helped ease my anxiety, as it all sounded quite logical. But I would be lying if there wasn’t still an underlying sensation of doubt.
“Well I hope this coincidence doesn’t come back to bite us in the arse!” he shouted.
“Us?” I frowned in puzzlement.
“Oh, don’t be daft,” he spat. “I’m in this bloody mess just as much as you are.” Even through his show of anger, the loyalty he demonstrated with those words did not escape my heartfelt recognition. He was the truest friend one could ever hope for.
“I don’t know what to do, Alfred,” I admitted.
“Well, let’s start by going to the cave and spying on some police chatter,” he suggested, and I smiled appreciatively in reciprocation. “S’like ye said, no time to panic just yet, yeah?”
For ourselves, perhaps that was true. But for Gotham itself, I feared the worst.
From the official police records of James Gordon, Police Commissioner of Gotham City
Batman Task Force
Cptn. James Gordon Date: Jul. 22, 1940
I made some follow-up calls on a hunch yesterday evening. I’m still not sure what to make of it, exactly, but something is definitely not adding up.
Both Maxwell Cort’s report and the testimonies he took from witnesses during the tank incident stated that he personally warned the citizens to flee the scene. I spoke with the witnesses again to clarify a couple of things, and if they’re telling the truth… what they told Cort is the complete opposite of what he wrote in the testimony reports. According to them, they said he barely even asked them about what they saw.
What they told me is that some guy, who they thought was Batman at first, started a ruckus. Then another guy, who was evidently the “real” Batman showed up, and he’s the one who started yelling at everyone to flee the scene. Not Cort. So then I asked them about the police sergeant who interviewed them. Was he on the scene? Nope. They’d never seen him before he went to interview them. So why did he lie?
He was supposed to be here this morning. Bullock said he saw him first thing, and told him about the craziness down at Arkham. No one has seen him since. I called his place multiple times, and tried his car’s comm unit. No answer. He’s just gone. Poof. I’m going to request putting out an APB once I run this by Grogan. Some might think I’m jumping to conclusions, but I know for a fact that Cort has an extreme dislike for the Batman, and if he’s been running around in a fake costume to try and frame the guy, it makes all my skepticism about this whole thing start to make a lot of sense.
I’ve now formally requested for the taskforce to be dissolved, given this new information and the fact that we have bigger, meaner fish to fry right now.
From the confessions of Bruce Wayne
The police chatter yielded a great deal of valuable information. It was Victor Zsasz and Cyrus Gold who were the other two assailants who had escaped from Arkham. And what was more, it appeared that Jonathan Crane was the one to blame for the chain of events that had come to pass. Or, at least, that was what the GCPD believed.
What was more, and this came as an utter shock to myself, was that there had been an APB called out for Maxwell Cort. No reason was given, and it seemed a few officers on patrol had seen fit to question the order, but the order stood nonetheless, and it was given by James Gordon himself. Could it be that they somehow found out he was the imposter? How? And if they had found out that much, I could only wonder in a state of agitation over whether or not they’d uncovered anything about the real Batman as well.
As to the details of exactly what had taken place at Arkham on that morning, little else was spoken of. I was faced with a cold, hard reality. I would have to catch Crane and the Joker all over again, and now two more dangerous men as well. Both Crane and the Joker were masters of disappearing, and if they did not wish to be found, then there was a good chance it would be a while before we could capture them once more. As for the other two, I knew from my database notes that Zsasz would not wait long before showing his face again. His crusade, unfortunately, demanded it of him. When he did, I was sure the GCPD would be hot on his trail, and if they’d spent a significant amount of their forces towards his capture, I might only get in their way.
That left Cyrus Gold. I had the locations of where he had previously been caught, and seeing as how he was a man of routine, and possessed very little in the ways of mental fortitude, I had some very solid ideas as to where to begin my search that night.
I tried my damndest to ignore the other lingering thoughts creeping about in my mind. The guilt I’d felt over Strenj’s demise, even despite his evildoings. The worry that Strenj may have told Cort about my true identity, and what he would do with that information. The likelihood that after these escapes, Arkham’s future would be called into question on a greater scale than ever before. It was all too much to contend with at once, and I had to keep my mind focused on recapturing these villains.
Unfortunately, I would need to wait until nightfall, and until that time came to pass, the only thing I could do was listen in on the continuing - albeit often stagnant - police chatter, in hopes that they would succeed in bringing at least one of these fiend’s to justice once more.
When the word finally did come that they had possibly located Zsasz, the skies had begun to dim overhead, and I was forced to leave my station and prepare for my departure. They sent all units to his location, so I knew my presence would only be a nuisance. As I knew I would likely have to scavenge the depths of the sewers on this night, I thought it prudent to don my old costume, so as not to cover my new one in feces and the like.
I combed the shores beneath the bridge to Wayne Manor before taking leave in my vehicle. There was no inconspicuous way to scour the city in the batmobile, and I had to make sure I planned my routes well ahead of time. As I had it in mind that I would be entering the sewer system first in my search for Gold, I decided it best to enter nearest to where he had last been living. That part was located in the Southernmost area of the city, and so I traveled along the coast, bypassing the Bowery and Crime Alley, past the Upper East Side along the Aparos Expressway, skirting away from Port Adams and delving deeper into the heart of the Southside. I took the road dividing the Fashion District from City Hall District towards what we now know as Old Gotham, where both Wayne Tower and the city’s famed Clock Tower were stationed.
The sewers themselves were some of the country’s oldest, a labyrinthian series of tunnels lying deep below the city and covering the entire span of the island. One could get lost in them quite easily, but luckily, I had a map and the knowledge that Gold had once made the tunnels beneath the clocktower his home, and it was there where he was last captured after he had assaulted a group of passersby in an attempt to steal their food, and subsequently chased by the police down to his lair.
After locking up my vehicle, ignoring the two pedestrians gawking at me, I uncovered the sewer lid and climbed down into the darkness below. Being that it was so dark, I took out a small box of matches from my utility belt and struck one against a wall. It was eerily calm, and unnervingly silent aside from a simple drip, drip, dripping noise. I followed the tunnels, somewhat aimlessly, deeper and deeper in search of any signs of life.
At last I heard voices in the distance. I dashed out the match and moved slowly and quietly towards them. Eventually, I detected three beams of light ahead, and determined they were coming from flashlights. I ducked down off of the path, into the sludgy water in an attempt to further mask myself from detection.
“You guys head down that way,” it was Gordon’s voice. “I’ll head down here. Don’t go too far, or you’re likely to get lost.”
Two of the dancing lights disappeared and I followed the source of the last one. Gordon appeared at a crossroads in front of me, his flashlight moving past me without notice.
“Jim,” I boomed, and my voice echoed.
He jumped, grabbing for his gun, “Who’s there?”
“It’s me,” I said as his light finally found me, and he relaxed only slightly.
“Jesus… I should have known. Did you follow me down here?”
“No,” I admitted. I watched his face change as he came to realize how I’d known about this trail. It was from his police reports that I’d first learned of it.
“Oh… right,” he breathed. “Ya know, I’m still supposed to be bringing you in. Task force is still in full swing, only -”
“You know about Cort.”
“How’d you…? Ffff, nevermind. Yes. He’s been running around town disguised as you, that about sum it up?”
“At the behest of Hugo Strenj, yes,” I confirmed.
“Strenj? Strenj is dead. Crane killed him this morning,” Gordon eyed me suspiciously. So, they believed it really was Crane. “How does he tie into all this?”
“Strenj was obsessed with the Batman. He had ties to the Nazis in Germany, and he believed by capturing the Batman he may somehow buy his way into the Führer's good graces. He wanted my armor and weaponry.”
“So he recruited Cort to try and lure you out,” Gordon caught on. “But what about Crane? What’s his part in all this?”
“I’m not sure he has one. This may just be an unfortunate coincidence in a series of bad decisions made by Hugo. In any case, we need to get these men back to Arkham before anything bad happens.”
Gordon nodded, beckoning me to follow him. “I have to ask,” he kept his voice low, “the tank…”
“Borrowed,” I confessed.
“You mean stolen. From Wayne Industries.”
“Depends on how you look at it.” I wasn’t going to elaborate further, as it might spurn him to investigate further with my company.
“Is that how you got all of this stuff too? By stealing?” he gestured towards my person.
“There’s light up ahead,” I pointed.
Moonlight seeped down from a city grate above. In its eminence, a bulky figure of a man bathed in it, seated in the sludge with his arms wrapped around his knees. He rocked gently back and forth, a small sound escaping his lips, almost akin to sobbing. Behind the soft whimpering, I could hear the solemn words being spoken, “Solomon Grundy, Born on a Monday.” It was a pitiful scene. The man lay before us, scared and lonely, as vulnerable and innocent as a small child. Indeed, I felt an extreme sadness and pity for the creature at that moment, and it made me wonder exactly what torment he had undergone both in his time at Blackgate and under the watchful eye of Hugo Strenj at Arkham.
“Cyrus?” Gordon stepped slowly out from the shadows and into the moonlight, alarming the poor fellow and prompting him to jump to his feet, ready for battle. “We’re not here to hurt you, Cyrus, we just want to help.”
“Solomon… SOLOMON!” the oaf warned with fists held high.
“It’s alright,” Gordon held his empty hands out in front of himself.
Cyrus became even more spooked at this, however, and grabbed the Captain by his coat jacket, lifting him off the ground and throwing him like a ragdoll across the corridor. I lept into action then. Not wanting to hurt the unfortunate fellow, I jumped upon the monstrous backside of the brute and hung on for dear life with my arms wrapped about his collar. He swung this way and that, arms outstretched in an attempt to unclench my bear hug, and he roared a deafening growl as he tossed me from side to side
I know not how I managed to keep hold of him, but already my mind was racing towards the next step in my containment process. How would I manage to settle the beast without harming him? At this rate it seemed a near impossible task!
“Captain!” someone shouted from the passageway.
“Hold your fire, let him try!”
At that moment, Cyrus launched himself sideways and we dove into the muck below. My left arm had become trapped beneath him, and he both squirmed uneasily to regain footing. I latched my right arm around his neck, and he let out a terrible scream of discontent. He then rolled, freeing my other arm, and being now down upon his all fours he once again had control of the situation. He stood, not without difficulty, and tried to reach behind himself to grab me. I eluded his grabbing hands, but he managed to enclose my cape in his grasp, and the force of his throw sent me whirling once more to the muddiness below.
With both fists held high, he rammed them down upon me. I narrowly escaped their blow in time, and kicked the back of his left knee out, which knocked him down again upon all fours. I lunged yet another time, hurling my entire being against him and latching to his neck once more. As he fell sideways and crumpled to the ground, his head held beneath the muck, I attempted a sleeper hold with all my might. He managed to pull his head up from the sludge, coughing and gasping for breath, and in a few seconds more I felt him begin to fall away from consciousness in my arms.
“Can you three carry him?” I asked Gordon as he jumped down into the watery mud to meet me.
“Yeah,” he took over holding the creature’s head in my place. “We have a team waiting not far, at one of the entrances. We should be okay.”
“Good,” I began to stalk off.
“Where are you going?” he called after me. I saw then the other two officers slowly aiming their sidearms towards me.
“To make sure your department dealt with Zsasz.”
But that matter had been properly taken care of, thankfully. I rounded about to the Upper East Side where I’d previously heard the GCPD announcement call all cruisers to, only to find that Zsasz was already safely in their custody. In one night, we had successfully captured two of the four escaped convicts, and from what I could tell, neither man was seriously harmed in their apprehension.