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I descended the grimy, filthy stairs, clinging onto the metal flashlight for life. Once I was at the bottom, I could see the green, neon paint more clearly, streaked down the long corridor, with the help of a flickering black light that yielded some illumination. At the end, large double doors chained shut awaited, with the bold letters ‘finale’ painted messily on them. I couldn’t see what resided on the chains completely, but I could tell they were hooked to wires.

I wasn’t looking forward to whatever that was, I thought.

Suddenly my comms unit went off, with Oracle’s concerned voice ringing in my ear.

“I just got word from Robin that there was an explosion. What’s going on in there?”

Pressing my earpiece to activate my communications, I kept walking down the painted trail, looking anxiously at the creepy, cracked, filthy walls. I felt my heart flutter with fear as I thought back to where the bomb was located - in that poor guard’s chest.

“It was bad, Oracle… The guard who locked us in the cell room, Xander Higgins. H-He was… ripped apart… torn open… Someone planted a bomb in his chest, and it went off. There was this piece of loose flooring under the X-ray room, and… Oracle, there’s an entire wing down here. Like the new Arkham building was built over the old one or something like that. I escaped into it to avoid the blast.”

“Oh god... Robin said the explosion was big enough to cave in part of the floor above it. But it wasn’t a large enough explosion to give them an in through the security barriers. I’m still doing everything I can to hack into it…”

“Xander was being blackmailed into doing this, Oracle… He was alive when they did that to him… His face- You should have seen his face…”

I couldn’t help but whisper out.

“I don’t have to. Dying like that… Entity can you tell me more about what you see around you? I have your tracker pulled up and… Where you are- it isn’t documented. The Arkham buildings were torn down completely before this all was built, except for the old irrigation and sewer tunnels, as well as caves that were sealed shut. But that’s not quite where you are. This must have been a part of the old asylum…”

“It looks just like the medical department. But older, and deserted… Filthy too.”

Suddenly, I stopped in the middle of the grimy hallway, in front of a large portion of the wall that was now littered with what looked like newspaper articles. My brow scrunched together in focus, trying to look at the headlines on some of them.

“The maps don’t say anything about another medical floor beneath the original medical building-”

A loud, popping sound appeared abruptly over me, followed by the high-pitched whine of the intercom speakers screeching throughout the disturbing halls.

“Hang on, Oracle.”

I managed to say before that familiar, God-awful voice started speaking.

“Ah, what better way to visit the past than by scrapbooking! I think I really have a knack for it, don’t you?”

I slowly shifted my body to face some of the articles the Joker had crudely posted on the walls. One detailed how Batman stopped the Joker at Arkham Asylum, in an apparent takeover. Others detailed how the Joker was behind the kidnapping of an infamous crime boss, in which he masqueraded around as the man. Another detailed the construction of a place called Arkham City to dump Gotham's worst criminals, in a move directed by the mayor at the time.

Confusion filled me, as I read some of these. All details of the long, drawn-out war between the lunatic and his obsession. My gaze froze when it fell upon an article, about a robber who seemingly befell tragedy. The name rang in my mind due to the familiarity.

Red Hood.

Puzzled, I looked at the picture, trying to piece together what the article meant. My eyes could make out a slender man, wearing a red dome-like helmet, much unlike the Red Hood I knew. A cape fell down slightly past his shoulders which were dressed in a black suit.

As my eyes peered at the article itself, it revealed that a break-in at Ace Chemicals was committed by the seemingly infamous robber, known by his monicker on the streets. The robbery was botched however, and when the Batman showed up to stop the criminal, the foreign Red Hood fell through the railing, toppling into one of the many vats of acid Ace Chemicals hosted.

Suddenly, the loud click of the intercoms was followed by a high-pitched whine before the clown’s voice echoed through the halls.

“Ah, it’s tragic, isn’t it… Well, don’t feel too bad! I think I turned out marvelous after my little dip! And besides… Greatness always has a painful beginning.”

I slowly stepped away from the article, analyzing what the Joker meant. The man in the article, the robber, was him.

Is that how he became what he was? All from one accident? I thought about it and felt some form of pity. Sad for a man who became a monster from one terrible fate. All of my pity faded, however, when I came across another article, stating the Joker had shipped infected blood to different hospitals, purposefully endangering the lives of many.

I felt the suspense thicken as I read the article, wondering how many casualties he had caused with his biological warfare. However, I was able to sigh a breath of relief when I read they were able to stop the shipments in time before significant casualties.

An object stuck in the wall caught my attention, gleaming slightly in the distance. I went and walked over to it slowly, cautious of my surroundings. For all I knew, Joker could have many sorts of “surprises” hiding in every corner. If I was going to survive, I needed to be alert.

After surveying the area, I came upon the object. Realizing that what pierced the decaying wall was a small, slender switchblade. Its blade curved slightly upward, crudely and menacingly, no bigger than my hand. I looked at the article that was being held up by the knife, and read the headline that gave me another clue to the puzzle.

“Clown Prince of Crime finally dead…”

I whispered out, trailing the headline with my finger as I moved on to the body of the article.

It detailed an encounter with Batman, at the previously mentioned Arkham City. One no one but the Batman alone saw. The journalist recalled seeing the masked crusader bringing the lifeless, limp body of Joker out of the old movie theater, before placing the body on a police cruiser outside. The writer wrote about how what transpired in that theater was unknown, only that the caped crusader in his words left without a word. The article then detailed how the criminal's cause of death was an unknown blood condition, ending with the date of his supposed cremation - almost four years ago to the date.

“Yes, the darkest day in Gotham! The day I sucked down my last breath. Quite painful, if I recall! Now, I’ve since learned my lesson when it came to Dr. Young’s hip new drug, and now look at me! Turned a new leaf, so to speak!”

This solidified all of my fears. Now three dead monsters were brought to life by this unknown force named Caedes, and she was bringing back the worst of the worst. Joker laughed through the intercoms and continued to do so as I kneeled down to read some more articles. Before I could read another word, however, a loud sound occurred in the distance.

CRASH!

I let out a gasp, startled by the noise. My head whipped in the direction of the disturbance, shooting back up to a ready stance.

“Well, goodness! They weren’t kidding about you. Little jumpy are we? Not to worry, I’m sure it’s just the nerves! Why don’t you run along, now? It sounds like your first assignment is getting a little antsy! Best not to keep him waiting! And do mind your performance… I hear he’s a bit of a perfectionist.”

Joker chuckled before the intercoms cut out once again. In an instant, more lights illuminated the hallway, clicking on in front of me in eerie, green hues. They stopped just before a pair of doors, leading into a dark abyss on the other side. Coated in rust, dirt, and rot, the sign above the doors was still somehow legible in the decay, displaying the grimy words ‘Critical Care Unit.’

My body tensed up, feeling the rush of anxiety wash over me. Adrenaline still coursed through my veins, like magma boiling in my blood. I exhaled a shaky breath, before turning back to the article in front of me detailing Joker’s death. The knife stuck in the wall glinted in my eyes, almost as if beckoning me.

Maybe I could use this, I thought. Not as a weapon, but as a tool.

Survival instincts were in high gear, overtaking me as I roughly pulled the slender blade from the decaying wall. A slight rustling noise emitted from my action, as the article about Joker’s demise went fluttering down to the ground.

I carefully slipped the blade inside the buckle of my boot, making sure it was secure before turning to face the ominous hallway. Carefully, I walked on, uncertain and cautious in my strides. My boots emitted slight noises as they collided with the filthy ground, causing the dust that had once settled to release into the air.

As I drew closer to the Critical Care Unit doors, I could make out faint noises unfamiliar to my ears as they tried to register the sounds. It wasn’t until I grew closer that I realized opera music was blaring loudly from somewhere within the double doors. When I was right in front of the ominous entrance, I took one glance back toward the hallway.

Into another circle of Hell, I thought.

Carefully, I pushed open the doors of the Critical Care unit, only to be met with a gruesome sight. Crimson streaks of fresh, wet blood streaked the corridor. When I shone the old, dim flashlight down the hall, I could see the blood trail turn slightly into one of the rooms inside. The music was louder than ever, blaring dramatically. Chilled to the bone, I wanted to turn back, but I knew that wasn’t an option. I had to face whatever was next head-on.

I crept forward, gripping onto my flashlight for dear life as I followed the blood trail.

The music grew louder, and louder, making it sound infinitely more horrifying as the decibels increased, male vocals crescendoing at the worst time. The trail was closing in, getting smaller the more I carefully approached. The dark corridor’s shadows danced around menacingly, only yielding when the dim light on the flashlight intercepted them. Each step was agony, and as I approached the curve in the blood trail, my heartbeat started picking up again, getting more rapid as I shone my light into the room where the ominous trail and opera music led. I let out a small gasp of terror once I lay witness to what was inside.

A large, rounded man stood inside of a wide, open room, illuminated only by a flickering light above him, with the operating table lying in the center. Blood completely covered his large green apron, which was tied in front his Arkham uniform. Indicating this man was no doctor, but instead a lunatic masquerading as one. A mask was affixed to his head, taking the shape of a pig splattered with crimson. Gloves trailed up his hands, as they worked carefully to sew up a man’s torso, naked on the surgery table save for a pair of blue boxers. Every inch of the poor man was covered in blood, oozing out of the wound the inmate was trying to close.

The man sewed up his victim, whispering to himself as he did so.

“Oh Dr. Taft, you’re g-going to look marvelous! Pyg make it all better! Daddy make you better!”

The man let out a grunt, almost like a pig's squeal, when the flashlight hit him. He looked up at me, with black eyes piercing into my soul. He gasped and squealed out loud again when he saw me standing there.

“O-Oh my dear! Y-You look splendid. Almost… perfect! But, not quite yet, no… You almost please mother. Let me make you better!”

I scrunched my face in disgust and fear, backing away slowly when I saw syringes lying all about the counters in the room. To my horror, the man lying on the table slowly shifted his head to me. Bandages wrapped his face, covering every feature except for one blue, drooping eye, staring at me horrifically.

“Am I… Perfect?” The man whispered.

“Yes, my precious, yes! Almost!”

The inmate in the pig mask stroked the man’s face in a caring manner, grunting out in excitement. I took another step back, my mind going into overload to process the whole unsettling scene.

“What the… What the hell did you do to him?”

I managed to whisper out, looking on in terror as I pieced together the scene. This man had done something to his victim. Something bad.

“Come here, my dear! L-Let me show you! Let Pyg show you how I did it. Let Pyg make you pretty!”

I shook my head frantically, trying to comprehend what he was saying. I took one final step back before tripping over some debris on the ground, dropping my flashlight in the process while I collided rear-first onto the ground. I let out a startled gasp as I turned sharply behind me, before meeting the gaze of the madman in a pig mask.

The lunatic grunted in frustration, slamming his fists down on the surgical table. The victim he had just mutilated began to stand, slowly getting off of the table.

“But you must! You must be made perfect! R-Rise my pretty, Daddy must complete you later!”

The man in the pig mask pointed to me and gave another squeal. I watched as his victim began breathing heavily, his lean shoulders rising and falling as it drew breath. The lone eye that shone through still drooped, almost rolling back into his head. The stance the man took was aggressive, and threatening in its own unsettling way.

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I knew I needed to stand up, and fast. I had begun to raise myself up when the victim suddenly sprinted at me, running faster than anything I’d have seen before. Before I had the chance to stand up fully, the zombie-like man had me by the throat, lifting me up. Just as quickly as he had run to me, he had thrown me across the corridor within an instant, causing me to roll violently across the floor once I collided with it, crying out in pain as I did so.

Pain shot through my body, but I knew I needed to recover quickly, however. Right as the man’s victim reached me, I rolled out of the way of his attempted stomp, flipping myself upright. Now ready to fight, I watched the man’s moves cautiously, staring him in the singular eye with determination.

The victim ran at me and swung a mighty fist with such speed I had barely managed to block it. He threw another, then another, and another. Blow after blow, it became harder to dodge or block them. The speed this man was fighting at was faster than anything I had fought before. Almost as if he had trained his whole life for this, enhanced by something unknown. I managed to keep up with his hits, dodging and blocking. Punch after punch, the man tried. It took everything in me to match his pace. I had tried to use my abilities, phasing to avoid a blow, but it had failed me yet again. He delivered a swift, hard blow to my stomach. As I keeled over, the victim grabbed me roughly by the shoulder, tossing me aside towards the room where the man in the pig mask was.

“That’s right my precious! Get her! Bring her to Daddy!”

The man in the pig’s mask sang out his words, in a horrifyingly eccentric way. He banged his fists on the table once again, as if demanding my presence. I looked down the hall to see the victim sprinting towards me menacingly, his arms remaining still by his side as his legs moved rapidly.

Right as he got to me, I managed to kick him back before flipping up again. I tried to work faster, swinging my forearm at him. I had managed to smack him across the jaw hard, causing the man’s head to swing in the direction of the blow. Instead of being blindsided by my attack, however, the man recovered almost instantly, throwing another punch at me that sent me back into the room where the man in the pig mask resided.

Using my foot, I tried kicking him back, but it almost did nothing. He came towards me within an instant, this time grabbing my hair violently. Using his shocking strength, the man swung me around towards the metal operating table in front of his implied master. My head collided with its rough, cold surface, causing me to cry out. I expected him to let me go, but my hopes were dashed when the dazed man swung me down again, making me crash into the table again. Then once more, and one last time after that. Bashing my head into the table over, and over again.

The brutal assault continued, with me digging my nails into the man’s hand which gripped my hair tightly. The side of my temple burned and screamed out in pain, as I felt blood pour down my head. Slightly dizzied by the pain, the man then threw me onto the metal table before holding me in place. The world around me lightly spun, as stared up at the light in the room, flickering frantically.

“Now, hold still my dear! The first hurts most, always. But you will thank me… yes! All my dollotrons thank me after!”

The pig-masked man came into view, swirling into my vision as he leaned over me. My eyes widened in horror when a syringe possessing a purple liquid came into view, looming menacingly in the lunatic's hand. I began to thrash wildly under the dazed man’s strong grasp, trying to get myself loose.

I can’t let him dose me. Come on Sarah! Do something, I thought.

Swinging my leg up, I kicked the masked man in the face, causing him to knock over the syringe with the mysterious liquid. I continued to struggle as the dazed man held my leg down. I grunted out in the struggle, trying to be free.

What I needed were my abilities, I thought. They can’t fail me today, not now. Not when it means death. I needed to find a way, I thought.

The pig-masked man angrily grunted out, leaning down to pick up the syringe that had broken on the filthy ground below.

Come on, please! I begged from inside. Please don’t give up on me.

The dazed man was about to lay a punch into me, readying his fist for a rough assault.

Please, please, I thought.

“I am here for you, dear one. Always.”

I felt the power surge inside of me, filling me up with shadows and strength. Just as the pig-masked man turned around with a new syringe, and the dazed man swung his fist down, I managed to disappear. Finally, out of the grasp of the pig-masked man’s victim, I reappeared by the doorway. Shadows enveloped me, dancing wildly around my body. My eyes trained on the pig-masked man, who let out a confused and terrified squeal, seeing his subject turn into black smoke.

Not so perfect now, am I? I thought to myself.

The pig-masked man picked up a scalpel from beside him, pointing it in my direction.

“Y-You! No no no! Mother would not be pleased with you! D-Disgusting! Disgraceful! You make Mother angry! Professor Pyg can’t fix you!”

The man, strangely self-named Professor Pyg, squealed and grunted, almost animalistically as he flailed his hands around angrily. By the sight of me, I had pushed him over the edge, it seemed. Whether that was a good or bad thing remained to be seen. Professor Pyg pointed to me frantically, scalpel in hand.

“Destroy the imperfection, my precious!”

Professor Pyg sang out his last word and came out from behind the operations table with his scalpel raised. I didn’t have time to pay attention to him, however, as the victim he called dollatron started to charge at me with extreme speed.

I didn’t know how sturdy the supposed Professor Pyg was, but I knew his dollatron was almost indestructible, able to take my hits as if they were nothing, as well as move faster than the average human. Whatever he had done to this poor man had made him stronger, more durable. If I was going to survive this, I needed to figure out how to beat the man.

I could at least keep up with his attacks, though it required my concentration unlike before. Thinking of my next moves, I dodged and weaved, matching the speed of his attacks, and predicting the movements he’d make. Things got a little more complicated when Professor Pyg himself charged at me. A sudden swing of the scalpel in his hand managed to catch my palm, causing me to yell out in pain as sharp stings radiated from the site of the new wound. Pyg swung his weapon again, but this time I was ready. Quickly catching his wrist, I struggled against the surprisingly strong inmate. The struggle only lasted a few seconds, however, as I lifted my leg up to high-kick the lunatic in his jaw. As he stumbled back, I turned back to his victim, managing to evade another punch.

Swinging my leg up again, I sharply kicked the dollatron back, causing it to fly into the wall behind him. Taking the opportunity of distance, I managed to turn back to Pyg, who was grunting in frustration. In a swift move, he threw the scalpel with precision. Quickly, I leaned to the side just at the nick of time, allowing the blade to be thrown into the wall by the dollatron, sticking into the rotting wallpaper like a tack, making sound as it plunged into the wall.

That was close, I thought.

Just as Professor Pyg ran at me, I managed to roll away from his grasp as he tried to catch me. Now inside of the critical care room, my back to the operations table, I faced my opponents who started closing in.

I needed to find something, I thought. I had no gadgets to use to my advantage, but perhaps I could find something for defense in the old, tattered room. The dollatron victim ran at me once more, his hands staying by his side as his legs frantically sprinted. I had little time to react when he reached him, so the only thing I could think was to flip backward over the operations table, crouching down. This caused the man to falter over the table, landing next to me on his side.

Using the little seconds I had, I looked frantically around the ground for something to use. The only objects I could spot on the filthy surface were the syringes that had fallen in the previous scuffle, broken open to reveal certain liquids. I glint in my eye brought my attention under the bed, however, as the flickering light caught an orange metallic object in its gaze.

A bedpan, I thought. As I gazed upon its vile, rusted appearance, I realized I had a blunt-force object right in front of me.

I heard a small shuffle behind me, indicating the dollatron was getting back up. Without a second thought, I used my abilities to disappear from behind the operation table, rusted bedpan in hand. When I reappeared, the shock of two muscular hands grabbing me from behind hit my body. By mistake, I had reappeared in front of Professor Pyg, who tried dragging me back towards him. I felt my foot stomp down on his, before swinging my head back to collide with his face. My attack may have been too much, but it was to the death now. Nothing could be too much, even breaking someone’s face.

Pyg cried out in agony, staggering back. I wasted no time once he released me, turning around and swinging the bedpan at his temple. The rusted object collided, causing the lunatic to fly backward onto the ground. While on the ground, he sniveled and yelped much like a helpless animal, scooting away from me while he massaged his temple.

When I turned to face the dollatron, his eye stared into mine as it raised a fist at me, ready to swing it down. Quickly, I rolled out of the way, avoiding the strong assault once more.

Not this time, I thought.

Questions flooded my mind, curious about how I would beat such a thing. As I stared into the drooping eye, the solutions swirled in my mind. I watched as blood poured from the dollatron’s arm due to a cut sustained from colliding with the broken syringes on the ground. Once I saw the blood a realization dawned on me, and when it did, everything seemed so easy.

The man was still human, despite the alterations given to him. He was still flesh, and he could still bleed. When I realized that, I knew how I could keep him down. If I could overwhelm him, and somehow knock him unconscious, I could eliminate the threat he posed to me. To make it work, I needed to pick up my pace. I could match his speed, but if I wanted a chance to end this, I had to be even faster than him.

With the bedpan clutched in both of my palms, the dollatron began running towards me again, breathing heavily as it charged. I lay in wait, staying patient and focused on its attack. Watching as it raised its left fist, I readied myself.

Go left, I thought.

I swerved to my left, avoiding the punch. With little time to recover, the dollatron swung another fist, catching me in the shoulder. I quickly rebutted his assault, however, swinging the bedpan up, catching him by the chin. The dollatron flung his head back after the impact, and I wasted no time in swinging it again, catching him once again in the cheek as I swung the rusted object across his face.

As if the dollatron felt no pain, he jerked his head back to the center, facing me as he landed a punch on my cheek. The strength he had was enough to send me staggering a few steps. I recovered just in time to block another hit with the rusted bedpan, pushing his hand back with the large piece of metal. Using every ounce of might in me, I kicked the dollatron back, landing one hit in his chest, and another to his face. The dollatron went staggering back, but I was far from done. I jumped up, using the power in my leap to recoil my leg, extending my leg to kick him down onto the ground.

I expected to have a few seconds to make another assault, but just as quickly as he went down he got back up, sweeping my leg in the process as he flipped himself upright. With a rough thud, I collided with the filthy ground. My fingers still gripped tightly onto the bedpan, as the object went crashing down with the rest of me. I felt cold, soft hands grab onto my ankle, pulling me towards the threat. Despite my thrashing, the dollatron had a good grip and began to lift me into the air, spinning around to swing me upward. I felt my heart drop as he let go, leaving me to go flying away from him as he threw me across the corridor yet again.

Dropping the bedpan a few feet from me, I landed roughly as I slid down the hall, crying out once again from the pain of roughly hitting the floor. I lay there still for a moment, letting myself recover from the attack. When I was ready, I flipped myself up, just in time to watch the dollatron begin to creep towards me from across the hall. I surveyed my surroundings, noting where the bedpan was, and where my opponent stood. A few small yards in front of me was another room, closed off. Except for a window, dusted over with neglect.

An idea formed, and when it did I walked over to pick up the rusted metal bedpan, standing ready for the dollatron who now was breaking into a light jog. Before I knew it, his jog turned to a sprint, and a sprint turned to a full-on dash. I waited for him to be right where I needed to be.

Hold on, I thought. Just a little further.

With his arms still at his side, he continued to run, coming down the eerie corridor to catch his prey.

Not yet, I thought.

The dollatron ran, until he was in the middle of the corridor, staring me down with his drooped, intense eyes. I could see the whites of his eyes turn red as if they were beginning to turn bloodshot.

Now!

With all of my strength, I ran, sprinting down the hallway toward the dollatron. I dashed, closing the gap between us. When I was just a foot from Pyg’s mindless victim, I leaped, using my foot to kick off of the wall, leaping into the air while swinging the bedpan down upon the man with great force.

SMACK!

The bedpan collided with the dollatron’s head, causing its head to recoil from the sheer force of the hit. The dollatron staggered back, losing its balance. Before I let his body reach the floor, I swung my leg in one last attack, kicking the dollatron harshly into the dirty glass window, releasing a yell from my efforts. Once my feet touched the ground, I watched as the dollatron went smashing through the glass, colliding with the floor.

My feet slowly made their way to the ledge, and once in front of it peered over, checking to see if the victim was still conscious. When I watched his still body remain motionless on the ground, I knew I had finally succeeded in taking him down.

One more to go, I thought.

I turned down the corridor to try and find the lunatic, only to see nothing to my horror. I quickly walked down the hallway, bedpan in hand, looking in every shadowed corner for the madman. Just as I arrived at the room, I looked into its creepy atmosphere, searching for Professor Pyg. It wasn’t until I cleared the room of any life that I heard a noise behind me.

When I turned, I felt a sharp sting across my face as Professor Pyg stepped out of the shadows, slicing across my face. Luckily, my mask protected most of me, but a small slice on the cheek caused me to flip back in surprise, trying to avoid the assault. In the process, my foot managed to collide with his mask, kicking it off just as quickly as I quickly set myself upright.

Pyg squealed in anger as his mask shattered on the ground, his head shaking in despair.

“N-No! Pyg needs that!”

He stuttered out, sniffing and snorting.

Going on the offense, I quickly swung my forearm at him, letting it hit him across the face violently. Blood flew from his nose as he cried out in pain, but I wasn’t done yet. I landed a kick to his knee, causing it to buckle slightly. When he was in a kneeling position, I still didn’t stop. I swung my forearm again, hitting him across the face. Then I swung again, hitting him the other way.

Then again. Then again.

All of the emotions started rising up. I was angry. Angry at the Joker, angry at this lunatic for trying to turn me into one of his mindless slaves, angry at the circumstances. I was scared too. I wanted out. I wanted to survive this. I knew Pyg wouldn’t be the end of the night. This wouldn’t end. Unless I made it end.

I continued to beat down the helpless Pyg, who dropped the scalpel that he had retrieved sometime earlier during my assaults. I could hear his pleas, his cries to stop, but I ignored each and every one of them. I didn't care. Not tonight.

Finally, when I felt he had enough, I landed a swift kick to his chest, sending him down onto the ground cruelly. He collided with the filthy tiles, coughing and sniffling in his defeat. When I saw his face, looking up at me to beg for mercy, something in me snapped.

Where’s my mercy, I thought. Where was my mercy when he had the upper hand?

I screamed out in anger, feeling nothing but hatred and stress. I lifted my foot up, before bringing it down heavily upon Pyg’s head, stomping down on him. I watched as his eyes rolled back, falling unconscious due to the heavy blow.

Finally, it was done.

I caught my breath, leaning against the wall as I let the adrenaline subside for a moment. For now, I was safe.

Not for long, I thought.

A sudden screech followed a pop echoed in the hall, breaking the eerie silence.

“Congratulations! You passed your first assignment with flying colors! Way to go, kid! Keep going at this pace and you’ll be Bat material in no time! Now, chop chop! Your next challenge awaits around the corner!”

The clown laughed maniacally after speaking, and just as the intercoms cut out, a pair of flashing lights directed me back down the hall where I had originally come from.

I sighed, feeling my shaky breath grow even more weary as my heartbeat fastened. Just like I had predicted. It wasn’t over yet. I felt blood trickle down my arm, and when I looked, I realized the cut on my palm was deep, and flowing with blood. Looking around, I looked for anything to help stop the bleeding. I was about to give up hope until I remembered the dollatron that was knocked unconscious.

Quickly, I jogged over to him, kneeling over his body. Carefully, I undid the bandages around his face. I let out a small gasp when I saw his features. His eyes were completely bloodshot, rolling back into his head. His lips were curled in agony, and his facial expression was warped in pain, begging for relief. Whatever Pyg had done to him, it was painful. I quickly shoved the thought out of my head. I couldn't stop to mourn him now.

With the bandage taken from the man, I carefully wrapped my wound, making sure it was tight enough to stop the blood flow. I looked for a way forward, but my heart sank when I realized the doors ahead have caved in from some type of destruction.

That meant I had to turn back, I thought.

When I was ready, I clenched my fist tightly and walked back to the corridor facing the way I had come, picking up the old, heavy flashlight towards the exit. Opera music still blared menacingly as I drew closer to the familiar doors. I exhaled heavily, bracing myself for the next chapter of hell Joker had waiting for me. Instead of fear, I had a new emotion. A new determination, one I repeated to myself, over and over as I walked down the unsettling corridor to my new doom.

I will survive tonight, I thought.

I’m going to survive.