Flash Photography #3: Parent-Teacher Conference

==ISA Headquarters==

 

The Misfits were crating up their weapons and gadgets, preparing to move out; Gar had made some calls, with Needham, Jenna and Gaige agreeing to rendezvous at Butchinsky's. Unfazed by Zoom's attack, Ito presented Sharpe with a long parcel, offering him a pleasant "Merry Christmas, Montgomery." Unwrapping it, Sharpe was delighted to find a golden sceptre, its' tip finished with a golden dragon's head. "Expecto Patronum!" he chortled excitedly, waving it above his head, only for a cloud of fire to burst forth from the dragon's metal jaws.

 

"Perhaps you should hone your skills, first," Ito spoke politely, if not a little disappointedly.

 

Preparing to transfer his files, Kuttler's monitor whirred into life, as an encrypted file filled the screen, emblazoned with a large bat-logo.

 

"What on Earth?" he pondered aloud, as he began the long encryption process. Whether Kuttler had realised it or not, though unconscious and incapacitated, The Batman had just given the Misfits a fighting chance.

 

==Arkham Asylum==

 

Hour One

 

Drury was lying face up on a grotty, bloodstained mattress, watching the large ceiling fan above him churn slowly. He was in his old cell; Billings' book was placed by the pillow, its' cover obscured by a thin layer of dust; one of Hopper's empty beer bottles was rolling around on the ground and the air was warm and stale as though he'd never left its' confining concrete walls. For a brief moment, he felt like he hadn't, that he'd been thrown back in time; that Miranda was still alive, waiting for him to come home and that all he had to do, was run. An impossibility of course, and soon his jumbled thoughts and hopeless aspirations were shattered by the high pitched tones of the Pointer Sisters' 'I'm So Excited' blasting in his ears, dragging him back to reality: Joker was standing against the bars, lip syncing, as he held a boom box over his head in a perverse homage to 'Say Anything.'

 

"Good mourning, buttercup," he cooed with a sickeningly sweet smile, blowing Drury a kiss through the metal bars.

 

Drury turned over. If this was to be his life now, then he'd rather drift off into the lands of wandering consciousness and bittersweet fantasies. But part of him knew it wouldn't be that easy: The edges of Joker's red lips turned downwards in glum disapproval, as he lowered the boom box, then kicked it as though blaming it for his own shortcomings. He stuck an pair of un-gloved fingers in his mouth, and whistled. On command, and coming seemingly out of nowhere, Zoom blew an air horn into Drury's ear.

 

Startled, Drury fell off the bed, taking the bedsheet with him; emerging from the white mass of blanket and pillow, he grabbed the closest object he could find, missing the more tactically sound glass bottle, and instead pointing Billings' book at Zoom like a particularly egotistical weapon.

 

"That's it, Drury! Throw the book at him!" Joker called through the bars.

 

But before Drury could do anything, book related or otherwise, Zoom had tugged on the bedsheet he was standing on, and Drury toppled back, slamming his back against the bars of his cell.

 

"Why me?" Drury wheezed breathlessly, as he found himself asking that same question for the second time in as many days.

 

"Why not?" Joker repeated, gleefully evasive.

 

"No, this time I want an answer: I'm serious," Drury swore, standing up to face Joker. Unfazed, Joker stuck his hand through the bars and booped him on the nose.

 

"Ahh! And that's your first mistake!" he teased. "Stone-faced intimidation really isn't in your wheelhouse. You lack the jawline to carry it off!"

 

Taken aback, Drury felt his jaw, surprisingly hurt by the clown's comment, but pressed on. "You want a Batman rebound? We're a dime a dozen. Get Prometheus, get March, get that owl guy from that phony Justice League. Or Wrath, why not use Wrath?"

 

Caldwell, of course, was dead. Crushed by a whale carcass if Gaige's confession held any truth (it probably didn't). But his predecessor had resurfaced during the Society's first assault on Gotham and was surprisingly virile. For a man who was also presumed dead.

 

"Oh, he's lovely," Joker's eyes twinkled. "Pointy-headed, gravelly-voiced, actually pretty liberal... But here's the thing. He might shoot me. Actually shoot me! Click. Boom. Roll credits. And I can't die to Wrath!" he giggled, amused by his hypothetical death at the hands of the pioneer behind the 'Wratharang.'

 

"I might kill you," Drury interrupted.

 

Joker paused for a moment; his eyes locked on Drury as though there was something about him he couldn't quite figure out. "Well... You haven't yet," he refuted. "But the day's just getting started... plenty of time."

 

'Annoyingly cryptic. Figures,' Drury thought to himself. "And you? What are you meant to get out of this?" he interrogated Zoom.

 

Zoom, folded his arms and cocked his head to one side. "Thejokeeeeeer is notorious. Infaaaaaaaaamous. Hemakesbatman better. Bykilling. Bycrippling. By laaaaaaaaauuuuuuuughing. He willmake youbettertoo," he stated with his usual, muddled enunciation. "Youhadaspirations once. To beeeeeeee the Batmaaaaaaan's opposite nuuuuuuumber. Hisrival. Hisreverse. You haaaaaaave that chance now. Andwewillbe yooouuuuur teachers.

You haaaaaaaave twochoices now. Two paaaaaaaaaaths. You caneitherbehis equaaaaaal. Oryoucan supplaaaaaaaaant him."

 

"And remember, it all starts with a smile!" Joker lips parted, as he continued his serenade, this time without the aid of a boombox. "We shouldn't even think about tomorrow. Sweet memories will last a long, long time. We'll have a good time, baby, don't you worry. And if we're still playin' around, boy, that's just fine."

 

Drury stared back at him blankly. Joker, rested his hands on his hips in mock resignation: "So I'm no Sinatra. But someone threw the Music Meister off a balcony, so whose fault is that? For future reference, when someone says "Kill the music," they don't mean feed the conductor to a crocodile!"

 

Drury didn't respond.

 

"Hmph. Get some sleep while ya can, Pumpkin, you've got a looooong day ahead!"

 

Hour Three

 

Drury's quiet solitude was interrupted by a faint blue glow and a robotic clicking from outside; he rubbed his tired eyes and looked up; The metal door had receded into the wall, the action accompanied by a mechanic whirring. It was a trap, of course. Another game.

 

But if he didn't play along, what then? Would Zoom come for his family? For The Misfits? Could he take that chance?

 

The answer, of course, was no. Drury rose from the mattress, and stuck his head around the corner. On first glance, the coast was clear; but with a speedster on patrol, that could change in an instant.

 

Drury walked down the hallway, following a path laid out for him made up of gingerbread crumbs. 'Breadcrumbs, cute...' he rolled his eyes; among other things, he was particularly irritated that the soles of his orange crocs were now marred by crushed bits of biscuit. The trail, led him into the Recreation Centre; a room built for the more docile inmates; filled with toys, books and a film projector and decorated with a large rainbow painted across the pastel blue walls. At the end of the room, Joker was perched on a red space hopper, flanked by Zolomon on his left and to his right, a man in a black tuxedo and a flowing red cape, a large camera mounted on his head. Two more silhouettes were just barely visible behind the thick layers of glass behind them, but Drury still recognised Crane's tall witch's hat, and Billings' inebriated swaying. The door slammed shut behind him, with The King of Cats and Hayden taking their places on either side of the entrance. If Krill was there, they'd have a full house.

 

'Where was Krill?' Drury pondered for a brief moment before returning to the matter at hand.

 

The tuxedoed man, was the first to greet their guest of honour. "Hello, Drury. You might not remember me. My name is Harry. But you can call me Mr Camera," he reintroduced himself, offering him his hand.

 

"I remember," Drury spat back. "You carved up Ten like a fucking animal! Left him to bleed out in the middle of a goddamn riot!" He was on edge now, surrounded by psychopaths; some with grudges, some with agendas; half, he was certain, would kill him just for fun.

 

"Well, we are animals, Drury," Sims countered. "All of us. That's why they cage us... Sedate us. Hunt us. But their mistake has always been to treat us like prey."

 

As he spoke, the walls started to change; distort; revealing the room's true condition; Drury stepped back, eyes widening, as the painted walls became cracked and chipped, as the tiled floors gave way to unveil pools of dried blood. As rows of Polaroids blotted out the now-faded rainbow mural.

 

He looked at Sims, then at Joker, his face gaunt.

 

"Like what I've done with the place?" Joker teased.

 

Drury cautiously stepped towards the photos along the wall, and his mouth went dry. Some, he recognised; wedding photos, birthday parties... picnics in Robinson Parks... And then some, he didn't; those were newer; close up, personal pictures in dust filled rooms... But they all led him to one, horrifying conclusion:

 

"YOU LET THIS BASTARD INTO MY HOME? MY CHILDREN'S HOME?" he stormed forward, with a rage unfamiliar to Joker, but one he was enjoying immensely.

 

"Now, Drury. I could have sent Karlie," he teased, wagging a finger in Drury's face. "Talk about a White Christmas!"

 

"Actually, let's strike that one from the record, shall we? Not my finest jape."

 

Behind him, Sims sniffled awkwardly, reaching into his black dinner jacket. "Oh, silly me," he feigned forgetfullness. "I forgot one."

 

He inhaled, and removed a battered, bloodied photograph out of his breast pocket. He threw it in the air, and Drury caught in with his dirt-encrusted fingers. His eyes widened. It was the photo. The photo he'd brought with him to Blackgate, the photo he had when he had nothing else, the photo he entrusted to Ten.

 

The photo that cost him his hands.

 

"That's better," Sims chuckled knowingly, with a casualness that made Drury's blood boil.

 

That was it.

 

The Outcasts could tear him apart and he wouldn't have cared. In that moment, Drury could only see red: His first punch knocked Sims to the ground, then he kept going; Sims fruitlessly tried fighting back; his camera flash activated in a vain attempt to distract Walker, but he fought through the pain and continued his onslaught.

 

On the sidelines, Zoom, made a disagreeable hissing noise; The King licked his lips, and Joker laughed. "Drury! It's impolite to hold grudges!" he chortled. "Ten can't! Well, he can't really hold anything, can he?"

 

The camera's lens fractured under Drury's rage filled fists; his hand went through the glass; the shards ripped his fist open, but he still persisted. Blood dripped down onto Sim’s pale face; his glass-like eyes widened in petrified fear. But before he could do anything worse, a yellow arm grabbed Drury's. At first, he thought it was Zoom's; the red lightning bolt pattern around his wrist matched, and no other living assailant could have grabbed him that fast.

 

'Living.'

 

Drury looked back, and for the first time in a while he was overcome by pure, overwhelming fear.

 

Billings dropped his hip flask. A single whisper of "impossible" escaped Crane's lips. Hayden, waved. And for a second, the Joker's smile faltered.

 

"You-? You can't be- You're-"

 

"Oh, but I can be," Eobard Thawne smiled, his eyes glowing a blood red. "Pay attention now, Drury. Class is in session."

 

"Ahem."

 

Thawne exhaled and turned his head slowly and purposefully: Joker had risen from the Space Hopper and was clearing his throat loudly and intrusively. "Right! Good work everyone! We've covered a lot of ground today! Physical Exercise, psychological torment, a touch of necromancy... Read chapter seven, strangle a couple of cats and we shall resume after lunch!"

 

He clapped his hands, and the next thing Drury knew, he was back in his cell, leaving the Outcasts alone with The Professor to decide their next course of action.

 

==Jeremiah Arkham's Office==

 

The room was organised like a Parent-Teacher conference; Joker, was sat in Arkham's chair, playing with the silver Newton's Cradle on the desk; Zoom, was sat across from him, with an expression that was uncharacteristically sheepish; his back slouched and his hands placed in his lap. Billings stood at the side beside Crane, shaking between sips from his flask. At last, Thawne entered, bringing with him a trail of red lightning.

 

"Professor Thawne," Crane drawled, moving in to intercept him.

 

"Doctor Crane," Thawne smiled condescendingly, looking down at the once-proud Scarecrow. "I recall you were taller, once."

 

"I don't understand.... Where... Where's Krill?" Billings stammered, scratching his dandruff-ridden scalp. Then he looked down, his eyes drawn to a familiar red belt wrapped around Thawne's waist like a trophy. Thawne didn't have to say a thing: the implication was clear.

 

"R-right..." Billings paused, choosing his next words with caution. "Good call. The right call. Good riddance to bad rubbish and all that, eh? Man was entirely unprofessional!" he added, a tad unconvincingly.

 

Thawne smiled back, but there was no warmth behind his crimson gaze: "Perhaps. But at least he knew when to hold his tongue. I hear you're something of a celebrity these days, Mr Billings."

 

Billings gulped. His book 'Heroes or Villains' contained a less than flattering portrayal of his former allies in the Society, Thawne included, and although he had assumed his illusion tech made him indispensable, he had thought the same thing about Krill's portals.

 

The exchange no longer holding his interest, Thawne shot off again; in an instant, he was sat beside his protégé and sipping coffee from Joker's mug. "Shall we begin?" he asked presumptuously.

 

Joker grinned back, but there was an intensity behind his eyes. Above all else, he despised being upstaged. "I admit, Bardy, I'm a little disappointed in you! We had such grand designs for Abner and for you to unceremoniously krill him without consulting me- Well, it wounds me! Considering all our history-!"

 

Thawne raised his index finger. "We don't have history, clown. You, Crane and the screensaver formerly known as Signalman voted to annihilate my future. Yes, Cobb, I did see you bouncing around Joker's monitor. I'm not impressed, DeVoe mastered that little trick decades ago."

 

Phillip Cobb materialised as a rather disgruntled red and yellow hologram, waiting in deference to Joker.

 

"Well, it was everyone's future," Joker's nose wrinkled. "No need to make it personal."

 

Hour Five

 

The cell door opened a final time. Drury looked up; Joker was in the doorway, holding a large, wrapped parcel in his arms; he placed it on the floor and slid it across the ground over to him.

 

"Put it on."

 

Hesitantly, Drury opened it: It was his Moth costume, well, one of them; it was a stripped-down approximation of the one Twag stole from his Cave. Within the box was a neatly-folded assortment of clothing consisting of a deep purple bodysuit, a pair of striped purple and lavender tights, boots, gloves, a black belt and a metallic, bug-like helmet with glass lenses.

 

"I won't peek!" Joker swore, putting his hand over his eyes.

 

Drury was lost in thought for a moment, simply staring into the eyes of his bluish grey helmet, reflecting on the pain Killer Moth had inflicted on himself and others. And when it came time to suit up once more, he refused.

 

It didn't matter.

 

What little control he thought he had was ripped away from him faster than he could blink. In a flash, he was back in the familiar purple bodysuit and striped tights; his orange jumpsuit lay at Zoom's feet. And he suspected the night's humiliations, its' violations, were just beginning. 'The utility belt was empty, of course they'd have checked...' he sighed, checking his pouches for anything he might be able to use.

 

He stepped forward, squirming as Joker planted a kiss on his cheek "For luck," and shuddering as he clapped his bony hand against his buttocks to further 'motivate' him.

 

As Drury walked down the hallway, his stomach lurched; Billings, The King of Cats, Hayden and Sims were all stationed along the hall, positioned like a perverse wedding procession. As he passed them, they took turns tossing clumps of confetti at his head. He kept his head down, avoiding eye contact, until he at last reached his destination, a dingy cell in the low security wing of the penitentiary. He paused as he noticed a rusted plaque above the doorway:

 

"126959

TED CARSON,

ALIAS FIREFLY II"

 

He took a deep breath, and entered the room, the door locking behind him.

 

"Hello, Drury," a voice called out from behind him.

 

Thawne's.

 

Drury's mind started to race; just like that the 'wedding' procession was recontextualized: It was a funeral. His funeral. And just like everything else in this damn Asylum, it had been backwards and twisted. 'This was it,' he was certain. His death. He breathed in, and at last turned around, his eyes drawn to Thawne's belt. Krill's belt.

 

Thawne's eyes crinkled slightly, a thin smile across his face. "You want to escape? Take the belt," he spoke with a concerning casualness.

 

Drury said nothing.

 

"You can go anywhere. Be free."

 

No, it couldn't be that easy. Could it?

 

"You'd find me," Drury shook his head.

 

"True," Thawne admitted. "But a little time is better than no time, isn't it?"

 

"Take the belt."

 

"Take the belt and it all ends."

 

Channelling all his rage and desperation, Drury swiped at Thawne; the Professor evaded, of course. And before Drury could muster a defence, Thawne was on him, slapping him across the face. Drury stumbled back, his lip split.

 

"Take the belt," Thawne repeated.

 

Drury tried again. And again, only ever managing to injure himself. And with every failed attempt, Thawne hit back.

 

"Take the belt," Thawne demanded once more.

 

Drury lunged; Thawne caught his fist, effortlessly, and hurled him over his shoulder.

 

"Take the belt."

 

Drury charged forth; Thawne stuck his arm in his path, clotheslining him.

 

Drury fell to his knees, his blood coating the slabs below. "I'm going to kill you," he wheezed.

 

"You'll have to catch me first. Take the belt."

 

Another blind lunge. Another miss.

 

"Tsk tsk. Still too slow. Maybe if you were faster, your wife would still be alive..."

 

"Aaaaaaaaarrrrrr-"

 

All Thawne had to do was step aside, let Drury hit the wall. He struck the brick and it felt like his head had split open; Drury landed on the floor, his eyes drooped shut, and as he drifted into unconsciousness, he hoped that everything he knew would be different when he awoke.

 

Done