Batman: Knight of the Hunt

Issue 0

Trouble in Arkham

Alarms ring out from Arkham. As the Batmobile races toward the scene, the Caped Crusader can't help wondering how the night will end. Which cunning maniac has gotten loose this time? And how many people will die as a result?

He grits his teeth at the thought. No one dies tonight, not if he can help it.

In the Batmobile's passenger seat, Robin fidgets nervously. Jason Todd isn't afraid of a good fight; in fact, he looks forward to the idea. It's the tense silence as his mentor drives that gets on his nerves.

They finally reach the gates of Arkham, but they don't swing open, in spite of the key chip installed in the Batmobile. Someone's cut the power to the facility – not a good sign. But Batman doesn't hesitate, doesn't even slow down. The iron gate flattens under the armored wheels of the Batmobile.

No one's dying tonight.

The sounds of a riot drift out into the yard. Batman and Robin leap from the Batmobile almost before it screeches to a sudden halt. They scale the inner wall in seconds, darting up the stone steps and into Arkham's main lobby.

Deranged cackling greets their arrival. On a landing overlooking the entrance, a patient with bleached white skin and unkempt green hair stands over a fallen guard. It's the Joker, self-proclaimed Clown Prince of Crime. Of course, it would be him, brandishing a bloodied crowbar in one hand and the guard's pistol in the other. Behind him is a leering crowd of fellow patients. Others close in from the other side of the room.

Batman groans at the sight of his nemesis, but too quietly for anyone other than Robin to hear. Now the Joker skips down the stairs toward them, still cackling softly, still waving the pistol. Batman's eyes narrow as he examines the weapon. It's a Smith and Wesson M&P semiautomatic. It shoots 9mm bullets, and fifteen of those bullets fit in the pistol's magazine, with an additional round in the chamber. That is, unless its already been fired. Batman prays it has not. Even one casualty is too many.

"Robin, get to the control center. I want power and security systems back online."

Pausing just long enough for a final glare at the Joker, Jason hurries off to his task. A couple of goons try to stop him, but he gets past with an acrobatic flip. No one seems concerned with following him either. Apparently Batman is the real prize. Some faces are set, determined. These are the smart ones, who realize just how dangerous Batman is. The rest are still leering, confident in their superior numbers. Joker grins as well, not because he's confident of victory, but simply because he enjoys the chaos. Win or lose.

As Robin leaves, Batman advances toward the madman. His step is even, measured. He doesn't drop into a fighter's stance, or raise his fists for the combat. Just one foot in front of the other, eyes locked on the Joker's twisted, grinning features.

There's a change in the Joker's smile, imperceptible to most eyes, but well known to the Batman. The game has moved to the next level. Beyond the mayhem, the cackling, or the theatrics. Most in the howling, mad crowd around them can only see two men in Halloween costumes, staring at each other in a sanitarium. But a few eyes witness a carefully choreographed, almost ritualistic duel between two knights. A paladin of law and justice versus a champion of chaos.

There's a flicker in the Joker's eye. The Smith and Wesson barks, but the Dark Knight sidesteps just as the gun goes off. Its an almost vampiric blur as the black cape dodges the bullet by mere inches. A shriek over his shoulder lets him know that one of Joker's minions wasn't as fortunate. But Batman's already covering the distance between himself and the Clown Prince of Crime. His fingers close around Joker's wrist, turning the gun arm back and down while also twisting the wrist. A fist connects with the clown's shoulder, and the pistol drops from his grasp.

Bu the Joker is far from finished. A crowbar slices the air next to Batman's head, a pivot and roll breaks his grip on the Joker's wrist. Then the Joker seizes the crowbar in both hands, swinging it back and forth like a warrior's mace. Batman dodges, first left then right, countering with a punch where he can. The crowbar crashes against his wrist, but thankfully the gauntlets take most of the damage. His forearm isn't broken, but there's still a throbbing pain. Worse, his fingers feel numb.

He answers with a counter-punch that connects with the bridge of Joker's nose. With a howl, Joker drops the crowbar and staggers back. Then he laughs, wiping at the blood with the sleeve of his hospital uniform. He lashes out with a high kick, but Batman dodges. Then a haymaker from the right hand. Batman deflects and counters with a straight karate punch. Its close, but it doesn't connect.

Then back and forth; arms and legs carving destructive arcs through the air. Batman fights with the balanced efficiency of over a dozen martial arts styles, while the Joker battles with the unpredictable frenzy of a madman. By now, they've dueled so many times that many of the clown's strikes and parries are near perfect imitations of the Batman's own. The Dark Knight's superior strength is countered by the Joker's ferocity, and his complete disregard for physical pain. Both men are breathing heavy before Batman manages to push the Joker back toward the stairs.

This, however, gives Joker the advantage of the high ground, allowing him to rain a torrent of blows down on Batman's cowl. The Dark Knight deflects with a combination of Wing Chun and pure luck.

The lights flicker on with a dull hum. The sudden light is enough to temporarily distract both combatants, but its Batman who recovers first. A sweeping low kick takes the Joker's legs out from under him. As he crashes back onto the landing, Batman pounces on top of him. One final punch, and the Joker goes limp. Handcuffs snap around his wrists.

Batman stands back up and looks around him. "Who's next?"

As if waiting for the signal, the entire swarm closes ranks around him. Everyone is shouting and swinging. Batman pushes through up the stairs, striking right and left at those closest to him. The group splits under his assault. With more room to maneuver, he goes on the offensive. A roundhouse kick for one attacker, a right hook for another. Then a push kick, an elbow strike, counter and jab. Like a whirling dervish of carnage, the Dark Knight is constantly on the move, striking and subduing.

The second floor is all corridors and patient rooms, making it impossible for him to be surrounded. His opponents have to come straight at him now. Robin's voice is in his ear.

"Power and security systems are completely restored, Batman. Hold on... okay, I can see you on the monitor."

He slams Sterling Silversmith face-first into a wall. "Understood. You're my eyes, Robin. I'm putting everyone back in their cells."

"Got it." Looking at the wall of screens in front of him, Robin can't help but shake his head. "Good luck."

Batman grits his teeth. He knows all too well that restoring order in Arkham is easier said than done. But with Joker and his main cronies defeated, some of the asylum's staff begin to emerge from their hiding places. Others have to be saved with force, and three others will never need saving again. Their children will be put through college thanks to an anonymous donor, but that won't completely erase Batman's sense of guilt. No one should have died tonight.

But with each ward cleared, the job becomes that much easier. Dawn is only just breaking as Batman swings the last door shut, and steps out onto a balcony on the top floor. Robin is probably making his way to the Batmobile now. Batman will join him soon, but he needs a moment now. Just a moment to catch his breath and regain his focus.

But something is wrong. He doesn't hear so much as sense the footstep. He turns quickly, but not fast enough. A sharp pain strikes his neck, spreading quickly through his torso. He feels himself falling before he can even see his attacker. There's a frantic moment where he wonders what patient he overlooked, then he feels the floor reach up to grab him.

Everything goes dark, and in the blackness he thinks he hears an animalistic growl, or a faint clicking sound. And then he hears – and feels – nothing.