Sharks and Recreation (1/1): Intermediate Oceanography

==Blackgate Prison==

After The Sandstorm

 

"Name?" the guard called out.

 

The inmate, a bearded, tattooed man in his mid to late 60s, looked up. "Gaige," he replied in a low whisper.

 

"And... Your first name?" the guard asked tiredly.

 

"Just Gaige," the inmate repeated firmly.

 

The guard shrugged. 'Fair enough.' He'd dealt with enough wack jobs in his time here, he wasn't planning on starting a fight with some pretentious pensioner. He checked his register, and finding Gaige's name, nodded. "Alright, Madonna, you're in C-Block. Gary here'll show you to your cell," he said disinterestedly, as a second guard walked Gaige off.

That night, sitting in his cell alone, the doctor ripped the left sleeve off of his jumpsuit, and wrapped the fabric around his forehead like a mask.

 

~-~

 

It wasn't long before his reputation gained him some unwelcome attention; the day he was released into general population, Gaige was sat in the cafeteria by himself, chewing on a mouthful of dry tuna. Midway through his pitiful meal, a pair of inmates approached him. The leader, a man in his mid forties with short brown hair and an eyepatch, nudged Gaige on the shoulder. Harlan Combs. The other, an Elvis lookalike, with tall, greasy black hair, stood behind him, sneering. Johnny LaMonica. Both were former flunkies for Danto Twag.

 

"Hey, little fish," Combs teased. "That's my seat."

 

Gaige sighed, resting his plastic fork on the table. "Listen, American Dad-"

 

"It's Firebug," Combs corrected him sternly.

 

Raising his mask above his eyes to get a better look at the pair, Gaige examined first Combs and then LaMonica, letting out a low sardonic chuckle. "No, it isn't. Now, back off, Fury, less you want to lose that other eye," Gaige warned, his tone shifting.

 

"Funny you mention that," Combs nodded sarcastically. "It was your bitch of a daughter who stabbed it out; never got the chance to thank her... But then- Then fate's delivered you into my lap..." he growled, as he gripped Gaige's shoulder even tighter. "Speaking of the little, ah, minx, there's a nasty rumour flying around here about Ra's and her. My boy Johnny was saying that the old ghoul fucked her cor-"

 

Without warning, Gaige shrugged off his hand, grabbed his fork and rammed it into Combs' remaining eye. He let out a pained shriek, stumbling backwards into LaMonica's arms, blood gushing down his face. LaMonica, looked back at Gaige, his face pale.

 

"Warned you," Gaige said, bloodied fork in hand. "Whitewashed little pricks," he muttered, as he dipped the utensil back into his pot of tuna.

 

"Hey," LaMonica shuddered, putting his hands in the air. "I got no beef with you, ese."

 

"Oho, I'll have what he's having," another inmate, a young man with dirty blonde hair, joked, as he watched LaMonica drag Combs away. "Kidding. Kidding," he added.

 

"It's you isn't it, The Demon Slayer?" he asked Gaige, an awed smile across his face.

 

He didn't respond.

 

"Hah, boy, yeah. 'Thought I recognised that jawline," the man continued unperturbed, as he slid in beside Gaige.

 

"Go away," he replied, as he gripped the still bloody fork.

 

The inmate shook his head disarmingly. "Woah, buddy, no need to be hostile- I mean you no harm. Honestly? I just wanted to congratulate you. I mean, Ra's Al Ghul? Wow! And with a poisoned harpoon? Gnarly stuff man, real gnarly. Heck, just the other day, Ramsay here told me that they found him with a smashed up rib cage and a sword in his chest. Fuckin' metal, man, honestly. Fair play, mate, you deserve a fucking medal." he clapped. Ramsay, the dark skinned man on the inmate's right, curled his lip.

 

Gaige glowered at the inmate's entourage, then rose to his feet.

 

"Hey, did I do something wrong or something?" The inmate asked him, a note of hurt in his voice.

 

"Everything," Gaige snarled definitively. "No one likes a kiss-ass."

 

~-~

 

A few days later, as Gaige entered his cell, he sniffed the air suspiciously. A familiar scent of rot and decay wafted up his nostrils, and he looked up to the source- a black clad figure sat in the rafters: A Talon.

 

Descending from the ceiling, it hurled a throwing star at Gaige, grazing his forehead. Distracted by his wound, the Talon grabbed his right arm from behind, pinning it around his back, the bones cracking slightly.

Incensed, Gaige used his free arm to grab the Talon by its collar, and with ferocious strength, he slung it over his shoulders into the farthest brick wall. Disoriented, the Talon dropped to its knees, unable to defend itself from Gaige's next attack. He dragged it over to the toilet, and smashed its head with the seat repeatedly. It was weaker than the ones at the manor had been, and healed slower. No doubt, Gaige deduced, a result of the recent Dionesium shortage Walker had engineered at Nanda Parbat. Which was lucky for him, as if it were at full strength, it would have decapitated him as soon as he'd entered the cell. Gaige pulled the seat back up, then pinned the Talon up against the wall.

"Demon Slayer, The Court of Owls has sentenced you to-," it started to gag.

 

"Yeah, I know. I fuckin' know," Gaige hissed, cutting it off, as he unsheathed its sai and ran it through its throat. The Talon gurgled as greyish blood trickled down its armour, then its arms fell down to its side, its body twitching slightly as what little life was left in it faded. "If you're still in there, be sure to tell your masters to try harder," Gaige whispered in its ear triumphant.

 

Nonetheless, aware that it could spring back into life at any moment, Gaige took his bedsheets, bound the Talon's limbs together and hung its body from the ceiling. 'Even if it were to resurrect itself, there'd be little it could do whilst hanging by its neck,' he reasoned. Gaige let out a heavy breath, as he slid against the wall of his cell, exhausted.

 

~-~

 

The following day, upon returning to his cell after lunch, he paused. Waiting in his newly renovated cell, was a fully stocked fish tank. Gaige raised a confused eyebrow, then tilted his head back to the entrance. Standing in the doorway, was that same blond inmate from before.

"Heard you had a visitor last night," he called out. "Pity. Still, you seemed to handle yourself pretty well. Tiger Shark." The inmate raised his arm out to Gaige, offering him a handshake. "We didn't really get to know each other earlier. My name's David," he smiled.

 

"I know who are, Franco," Gaige responded. "Roman Sionis' errand boy."

 

The boyish facade lifted, as a vicious scowl broke across Franco's face. "Not if it's Sionis who told you, you don't," he spat. "Sionis, is a moody man child who'll execute anyone that tells him no, and torture anyone that says maybe. So, fuck Roman, and anything he told you."

And then, as though nothing had happened, Franco grinned back at Gaige. "So, what do I call you? Like, what's your real name?"

 

"The Physician's fine," Gaige stated insistently.

 

"Cool... Very cool. Mysterious! So, you like it?" Franco asked, gesturing to the fishtank.

 

"These are saltwater fish," Gaige murmured irritably. "They're not going to last the night in this tank. "Don't try and bribe me," he advised. "I don't like suck-ups."

 

"Look, I know Sionis screwed you over too, buddy." Franco called after him. "He killed your assistant way back when- I know- I was the guy who cleaned that mess up. He made you work against your family- your family. Shit's not right, man.

I was the one running his drug racket whilst he was thrown in Arkham City, but what thanks did I get? Thrown off a roof by the Bat and condemned to Blackgate. Did he come to bail me out, did he, shit! And that? That's why we need each other. The mob never used to be like this, we used to communicate, work together. It was never supposed to be one sadistic dickhead calling the shots. We need to level that playing field. What do you say?"

 

"Meh. Incognito was a traitor," Gaige said disinterestedly, and he sauntered off.

 

~-~

 

Weeks passed, and the situation remained the same. Every few days, Franco would ask for Gaige's help, and every time, the doctor would turn him down.

Until one day, while lifting weights in the yard, Gaige looked up from the bench press as two bald men entered the rec center, recognising both immediately. "I'm just saying, it's his own damn fault; wasn't he just in rehab?" the first complained, dressed in a white onesie covered in bright dots.

 

"I don't care about his recreational activities, Abner, he's an integral part of my partners' plan," the second, dressed in a white cape and red robes responded tiredly.

 

"What's he gonna do, hop menacingly?" the Polka Dot Man asked, chuckling at the surreal image he'd conjured up in his head, as he stopped by a nearby table. "You got any of those pudding cups?" he asked the closest inmate. Then, without waiting for an answer, he snatched the plastic cup and scooped the contents into his mouth.

 

"It's acting up again, isn't it? Hypoglycaemia, wasn't it?" the Calendar Man inquired.

 

"Yeah," Krill nodded feverishly. "Gotta keep that blood sugar steady, doc says... Though, plays havoc on my spots, of course... And skurvey's a growing concern," he said, rubbing his cheeks.

 

"Hmph. Remind me to send you a fruit basket," Day smiled snarkily.

 

"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer cash," Krill grinned back.

 

"Then perhaps, you shouldn't have delayed," Day said aerily, checking his watch.

 

"Hey, not my fault, now is it? I've got other clients y'know," Krill was complaining. "Take that Carson guy for instance, real pain in the neck, has me camped out in a dingy apartment on Ward Avenue. And I'll tell you what's really rich- he's dying to meet you. So, yeah, sue me, I wanna know who're these big bads you're bending over to."

 

"Carson?" Gaige muttered under his breath, as he observed the duo, scowling at the namedrop. Ted Carson, was meant to be trapped in a demonic hellscape last he'd heard. And the world had been better for it.

 

"Brave heart, Abner," Day advised his counterpart. "You'll meet my partners when I deem it appropriate. And if that moron is still out there, keeping Drury occupied, we can continue unimpeded."

 

"Yeah, alright," Krill sniffed. "I just don't know how much more of Jumbo's homemade chilli I can take. I swear, he uses Mountain Dew or some shit, I kid you not." Trailing off mid rant, Krill glared over at Gaige. "What're you staring at, Pop-Eye?" he sneered.

 

"Nothing," Gaige muttered.

 

"Good," Krill nodded. "Good," he repeated as he followed after Day.

 

~-~

 

That afternoon, Gaige stormed over to Franco's table, a look of newfound determination upon his freshly shaven face. "I want in," he said sternly.

 

"Great!" Franco said, as he leapt up from the bench.

 

"But we do it my way."

 

"Sure," he shrugged, as he sat back down, trying his hardest to hide a very relieved smile. "What do you propose?"

 

~-~

 

A month later, Franco and Gaige stood outside the Iceberg Lounge, the cold autumn breeze whipping in their faces. It hadn't been hard to arrange their release from Blackgate, not once Sionis had recieved a series of DNA tests confirming what he had already assumed- Franco, was his bastard half brother.

Even so, it had taken immense pressure from his aides for Sionis to finally agree to a meeting with the pair- here, in the heart of the Penguin's criminal empire. Cobblepot's role, was arbiter, and his position as Mayor provided an air of legitimacy to proceedings.

Gaige, had reluctantly removed his mask- his past with Sionis would have otherwise stood in their way. He had instead applied heavy prosthetics to his face- few people had actually seen his full face of course, but it wasn't a risk they were willing to take.

As they approached the entrance, Franco stuck his hand out to Gaige. "This," he announced, winking back at his partner, "Is the Physician."

The closest henchman nodded to them both, then ushered them aside. "Mr Sionis does not like to be kept waiting," he said.

 

"Christ. They brought Ferris back?" Gaige muttered unenthusiastically, staring at the infamous, iron-masked figure sat at the table. "He is getting desperate."

 

"We did that man," Franco whispered assuredly. "We did that."

 

==Arkham Asylum. Present Day==

 

Batman examined a fallen piece of fabric on the ground- a striped yellow and black piece of tattered cloth not unlike the kind seen in a sports jacket.

 

"This way, sir."

 

Bruce nodded, picking it up, and placing the rolled up curiosity into a pouch on his belt. He rose to his feet, and followed the guard across a narrow walkway, stopping once the duo reached a tall metal door. The guard nodded to his two colleagues, stood at either side of it, and saw them off, as they gratefully retreated back to their posts.

The remaining guard turned his key in the lock, and the door opened with a low moan. Batman cautiously entered the room alone- the lone guard simply lingered in the doorway, anxiously. Sat in the corner of his cell, his hair unkept, his fingers bloodied, was-

 

"Crane."

 

The figure remained silent; the only noise he made was the tapping of his bony fingers against the armrest of his wheelchair. Undeterred, Batman continued, choosing his words carefully in an attempt to get a rise from him, a confession, he hoped. "You should know I spoke to Fries last week. He told me all about your missing shipment of Fearless. The one he stole from you."

 

Crane didn't reply.

 

Bruce put his hand to his chin, the cogs turning in his head, as he read Crane's body language. Every twitch, every breath told a story.

 

'Now,' Bruce thought, 'You and I both know your formula is useless without Dionesium. So, unless you have unearthed more Talons, that single shipment is all the Joker has. Not enough for the city wide plague you and Dent had envisioned, so it'd have to be somewhere concentrated... He'd have to have specific targets in mind; The Misfits, that's obvious, yes, but I imagine that, like me, he can't find them either... So, he doesn't know where they are now, but he does know where they're going to be, doesn't he? Or at least, where he can draw them to... But, it's not that simple though, is it? It never is. Not with you, not with Day, not with Joker. So, what's his second target? If I can only find the link between them and the Misfits, I can shut this all down.'

 

Crane, stared back at him defiantly, his silence unflinching.

 

"I wouldn't bother with him," the guard advised, glancing back at the inmate tensely. "He doesn't move, he barely eats. Hell, I'm not even sure if he sleeps, sir. He just... sits there."

 

Batman tilted his head back. "Any visitors?"

 

The guard shook his head. "None. If there were, I'd be the first to know, sir. I can give you his patient records if you want; they're signed by Doctor Arkham himself."

 

"No, that's not necessary," Batman replied. He looked around the cell, as though he felt he were being watched, like an invisible force was in the room with them, breathing on the back of his neck. 'No,' he repeated to himself, as he shook off the feeling and walked off down the hallway.

 

Crane waited until Bruce's footsteps had grown fainter and fainter and then he spoke, "He's gone," he said, seemingly to thin air. And then the guards froze in place, like a computer program had just been paused, before they vanished altogether; the sterile white walls gave way to reveal purple and green paint on every surface, and blood drenched across the floor; the cell door faded away, as did Crane's prison jumpsuit, revealing his signature Scarecrow mask and hat in its' place. And beside him, Zoom materialised. The rhythmic tapping of Billings' plastic leg against the concrete floor grew louder as finally, he entered the room dressed in his bright orange Spellbinder attire. "You think he bought it?" he said anxiously, taking a hearty gulp from a suspicious looking flask.

 

"Youbetter hoooooope soooooooo, Mr Billings," Zoom's voice crackled, as he snatched the flask out of his hands, a look that could almost be attributed to disgust upon his blurred face. "Oryouwill pay. Deaaaaaaaarly. Fooooooor theeeeee lessooooon tosucceed, wemustoperatein complete secrecy. Wemust ensure thaaaaaaat the Baaaaaaaatmaaaaaan cannotinterfere.

 

"Billings, is not the one with a case of Stockholm Syndrome towards the Batman. Joker is," Crane murmured.

 

Zoom's head swivelled in Crane's direction. "And yoooouuuuuuuu Scarecrow? Whatassurancedo we haaaaaaave thatyouwont betraaaaay usssssss?"

 

"Because," Crane said firmly, "Above all else, Mr Zolomon, I am a scientist. And I intend to see this little experiment of yours through to the end."

 

~-~

 

Batman entered the Batmobile, and put his finger against his temple. "Oracle, what are the current whereabouts of Delbert Billings?"

 

"Spellbinder? Alright, give me a moment" Barbara's voice replied, as she began typing into her keypad. "Ok, so, it says here that, about a month ago, he was en-route to Blackgate in the wake of another relapse. And from the sounds of things, he was barely in there 24 hours before he vanished."

 

"Hn," Batman grimaced, glancing back at the Asylum. "That's what I was worried about."

 

Done