Group Therapy

Part 6

Black Mask: What kind of a question is that?

Riddler: A bewildering one. But what I find most puzzling is why do you care so much about us personally? Your line of questioning was shaky at best but sketchy to boot.

Freeze: I would like to know the mastermind I'm speaking to.

Therapist: Do any of you feel remorse for your actions?

Joker notices a rise in emotion behind the voice, just as he noticed the fluctuation earlier. The Therapist sounds frustrated.

Bane: We've wasted enough time here.

Riddler: Two hours, thirty one minutes, and eight seconds to be precise.

Black Mask: I won't ask how you know that.

Riddler: I've been counting.

Black Mask: I didn't ask.

Therapist: We are at the end of our therapy session. Please answer the question.

Black Mask: Hey we ain't sayin' nothin' till you tell us why we're here!

Therapist: None of you are in any position to make demands. Now answer the question.

The room sounds disheveled as the prisoners become anxious and impatient. Joker sits in silence as the commotion ensues.

Freeze: The clown is unusually relaxed.

Bane: I have given benefit of the doubt. But now I must know, Joker, if this is just your game.

Joker: I don't know what you're talking about.

Therapist: The Joker is here for the same reason you are. You've all caused harm to Batman in some shape or form. Now for statistical and psychiatric purposes, I'll need you all to answer the question.

All five prisoners are simultaneously electrocuted as a warning. After regaining sound state of mind, Freeze speaks.

Freeze: I love Nora. I know she would not want this life for me. The Batman couldn't understand that. I would kill him a thousand times over for her. And I will continue to dispose of whoever I must.

Black Mask: Remorse? Ha! I'm glad the Bat is dead. He was almost as bad as Pennywise here.

Joker isn't smiling at all. His face has dropped but remains sharp with hatred.

Riddler: I had something to prove. I had to prove it to myself and I succeeded. Do you know how good that feels?! The answer is "no". I've run all the options in my head, and I don't know who you are, doctor, but you seem to be jealous of my cerebral superiority. So if you want the truth, Batman is dead because he thought he was better. He thought he was smarter! Well I was the apex. I'll gladly put you down next.

The prisoners wait silently for some sort of rebuttal.

Therapist: Bane. Answer.

Bane: Of all the times I fantasized about breaking that Bat, I never thought about putting him back together. I would be a liar to say I feel remorse.

Joker: You filthy savages. All you care about is yourselves and your inferior lifestyles. Me, me, me. Ooh I'm so smart and I want a warehouse. Who wants warehouses?! I mean, c'mon, have a little class. You want your pitiful lives to be worth something so badly that you're willing to destroy every hurdle you come across! But those hurdles, they make you stronger. They make you wiser. They may even make you insane. It's a roll of the dice but you cheated! You went around the board and straight to the end. You haven't appreciated the game. You've rarely experienced "go back three spaces" and you all think you've lost a turn! The game was worth playing with The Batman. He knew that. He knew me. And I'd rather sit and play it all again with that vile Bat than be sitting here with you troglodytes.

The room sits in silence. Not even The Therapist is vocal. Eventually, Black Mask begins to shout.

Black Mask: Alright we passed ya stupid therapy test! Time to let us go now!

Bane: I agree. This will have to end now.

Freeze: Oh, doctor. Are you there? It's highly unprofessional to leave your patients uncared for.

Riddler: Illegal in pretty much all states.

The Therapist: This marks the end of our group therapy session. You've all done so well. Unfortunately, the results were inconclusive. Your stay is hereby nullified. Thank you for participating gentlemen. Now I must do my part.

Just then the lights are shut off and all hope is sucked out of the room. A loud ear-piercing sound starts to fill the room. No one can hear each other, and it has brought the prisoners to their knees. An odorless gas begins to seep into the cells. The prisoners bang relentlessly on the glass and try to scream but nothing can be heard over the high pitched sound. They begin violently coughing and lying down on the tile floor. One by one, the life leaves their bodies, then their chests, then their eyes. The room is eerily still. The agonizing sound is gone and the lights return. The loudspeaker squeaks and pops out of fruition.