He was struggling.
It wasn’t a sign of weakness to recognize your own limitations. One of his guides that had led him up the south side of Kilimanjaro had taught him that when he was 18 years-old. His brashness had overtaken him then, and the guide, a man named Suzo, calmly kept him at base camp at the 15,000 foot mark instead of allowing him to keep going.
The foolish young Bruce Wayne pressed on for a thousand feet alone, only to have to turn back once he realized that oxygen deprivation and his own pride could kill him. He reluctantly agreed with Suzo that letting his body adjust to the altitude before pressing on was best.
It was a lesson he had tried to instill in all his wards nearly immediately upon taking them under his wing. Pain was the body’s way of signaling that you were doing something wrong. Weariness was an indicator that you were pushing beyond what you were accustomed, which could lead to mistakes and jeopardy.
As the door slid behind Batman, sealing him away in a corridor that undoubtedly led to the next chamber in the retrofitted hospital, he wished he had the luxury of letting his body rest at base camp alongside Suzo once more.
Facing down poor imitations of Killer Croc, Mister Freeze, and even the Joker had been a gauntlet in its own right.* His utility belt had been stripped from him after being led through the sewers of Gotham to get here. He was dehydrated from Doctor Phosphorus and fatigued from Doctor Zodiac.** Robin was somewhere here, presumably going through his own trials.
* Refer to DC2K’s Batman #1-4!
** The last two issues – go read them!
But there was no luxury of base camp, not here in this building-sized deathtrap. He quickly used a muscle-strengthening technique taught to him by a yogi in Nepal, which would need to satiate his need for a break. He stretched his arms wide, felt some feeling return to his torso, and then brought his arms in to allow his singed cape to cloak his body.
He knew from Deadshot that the so-called “Board of Directors,” those responsible from this maelstrom of pain, numbered six in total. Phosphorus and Zodiac would no longer pose a problem, and with luck Robin was making his way through them as well. His son’s key asset, aside from extensive capability, was consistently being underestimated by their enemies.
The night vision lenses in his mask amplified all available light, showing him the long corridor that ended in a short staircase that fed into a hatch built into the ceiling. He took in a deep breath, held it a moment, and let it out slowly as he began to walk forward.
It wasn’t a sign of weakness to recognize your own limitations. One of his guides that had led him up the south side of Kilimanjaro had taught him that when he was 18 years-old. His brashness had overtaken him then, and the guide, a man named Suzo, calmly kept him at base camp at the 15,000 foot mark instead of allowing him to keep going.
The foolish young Bruce Wayne pressed on for a thousand feet alone, only to have to turn back once he realized that oxygen deprivation and his own pride could kill him. He reluctantly agreed with Suzo that letting his body adjust to the altitude before pressing on was best.
It was a lesson he had tried to instill in all his wards nearly immediately upon taking them under his wing. Pain was the body’s way of signaling that you were doing something wrong. Weariness was an indicator that you were pushing beyond what you were accustomed, which could lead to mistakes and jeopardy.
As the door slid behind Batman, sealing him away in a corridor that undoubtedly led to the next chamber in the retrofitted hospital, he wished he had the luxury of letting his body rest at base camp alongside Suzo once more.
Facing down poor imitations of Killer Croc, Mister Freeze, and even the Joker had been a gauntlet in its own right.* His utility belt had been stripped from him after being led through the sewers of Gotham to get here. He was dehydrated from Doctor Phosphorus and fatigued from Doctor Zodiac.** Robin was somewhere here, presumably going through his own trials.
* Refer to DC2K’s Batman #1-4!
** The last two issues – go read them!
But there was no luxury of base camp, not here in this building-sized deathtrap. He quickly used a muscle-strengthening technique taught to him by a yogi in Nepal, which would need to satiate his need for a break. He stretched his arms wide, felt some feeling return to his torso, and then brought his arms in to allow his singed cape to cloak his body.
He knew from Deadshot that the so-called “Board of Directors,” those responsible from this maelstrom of pain, numbered six in total. Phosphorus and Zodiac would no longer pose a problem, and with luck Robin was making his way through them as well. His son’s key asset, aside from extensive capability, was consistently being underestimated by their enemies.
The night vision lenses in his mask amplified all available light, showing him the long corridor that ended in a short staircase that fed into a hatch built into the ceiling. He took in a deep breath, held it a moment, and let it out slowly as he began to walk forward.
ISSUE #7 (December 2021)
Written by D. Golightly Featuring: Batman
Robin
Catwoman
Nightwing
Doctor Tzin-Tzin
Doctor No-Face
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"Hospital of Pain - Part Three"“If you were my kid, I’d ground you until the prom.”
Selina Kyle, perhaps better known as the prolific thief Catwoman, bounded down the stairwell after the teenage Robin. Whereas he looked no worse for wear, with his red and black uniform in mint condition and his yellow-lined cape fluttering behind him, she probably looked around the same as she had felt. Her hair had been buzzed to a millimeter of fuzz and her clothes had been taken upon capture. The frayed hospital gown that she had awoken wearing wasn’t doing much to conceal her bruised body. Having taken down Doctor Double X with an assist from the Brat Wonder*, Selina was ready to just cut bait and head home. She had been perched on the rooftop mere minutes ago, too, but some semblance of appreciation to the Batman and his annoying sidekick had brought her back into the building. * It was a joint effort in the last issue. “If I were your child,” Robin shot back over his shoulder as he ran, “I would never admit to my parentage.” Robin rounded a corner, spotting the backs of two henchmen who had obviously become bored with their menial watchdog tasks. Dropping them would be pitifully easy. Without his utility belt, he was forced to use the smaller implements laced throughout the rest of his costume. Trained in the deadly arts by the League of Assassins since birth, Damian Wayne could make a weapon out of nearly anything, but his uniform held many secrets for him to take advantage of. He thumbed open a nylon covering on his glove just below his index finger, revealing a hidden garrote. He silently pulled the cord out a few feet as he stalked his unaware prey. The slapping of bare feet on the concrete floor coming up behind him made his heart skip a beat and he fell into a crouch, looking over his shoulder in surprise. The surprise was instantly replaced by irritation as Selina brushed by him. “Wasting time,” she spat out. “Quit playing with your food.” The pair of henchmen turned just in time to see Selina leap into the air and slam both feet into the chest of the one on the right. The bulky man was rammed back into an electrical housing, hitting his head off of a low-hanging pipe. He crumpled to the floor, dazed but not out. With Selina’s momentum transferred into the first henchman, she dropped like a stone to the cold floor, but used the low vantage point to her advantage. Before the second henchmen could react, she entangled her legs with his, capturing his left ankle. With a twist, she ruptured his anterior talofibular ligament, causing the man to scream an incoherent verbalization of pain. The henchman buckled, dropping to one knee, now in the perfect position for Selina to kick the bottom of her foot into the side of his face. They were close enough to the wall for her to follow-through with the kick, cracking his skull off of the hard and unforgiving wall. She twisted her torso back to the first henchman, who was halfway back up again and cocking his fist back for a haymaker, but Selina moved faster. She pivoted on her hip and drove a fist into the man’s testicles. The man expelled all of the air in his lungs and doubled-over. Selina slipped a hand behind his head and pulled his face down into her uprising knee. He hit the floor and it would be quite some time before either man stood upright again. “Impressive,” Robin said as he approached, the garrote sheathed once more. “I’m starting to see why he keeps you around.” Selina got up and rubbed her shoulder, which had hit the floor fairly hard from her initial dropkick. “Honestly,” she said, “you’re a little dark, kid. You were, what, going to choke them out with that thing?” “Only the first one,” he replied. “Then I was going to chop the other in the jugular.” Selina stared at the teenager with wide eyes. “You are in desperate need of a girlfriend.” “And you are in desperate need of a belt.” Selina looked down to see that her tattered hospital gown was having trouble keeping tied in the back. A flush of red splashed across her face, not from embarrassment, but from aggravation. She was beginning to regret not leaving when they were on the roof mere moments ago more and more. She yanked a belt off of the closest henchmen, getting a good look at his face for the first time, or rather, the lack of a face. “Gross,” she muttered, then said louder, “What’s the deal with these guys?” Robin stepped over them to the door, pushing it open with a little effort. Metal ground on metal as the door opened. “They are obviously in the employ of Doctor No-Face, a fairly lowkey and unsuccessful criminal. I haven’t seen any distinguishable patterns in this farce yet to determine what exactly is going on.” Selina gently pressed against the features of one of the faceless men. It was like there was a layer of skin masking their eyes, nose, and mouth. It was thin, but didn’t seem to be a mask or covering. It was like new skin had grown over their faces completely. She wondered how they could see, smell, or even talk. “Never heard of him,” she said, tightening her newly acquired belt around her waist. A quick search had also yielded an extending riot wand, which she swung a few times to test the grip. “His presence alongside Doctor Double X must mean something,” Robin said. “But I don’t know what, other than basal miscreants have gathered to destroy Batman.” Robin was about to step through the doorway when he saw the tilted head and raised eyebrow of Selina. He looked around briefly, seeing the unconscious men at their feet. “What?” he said. “Am I forgetting something?” “Yeah…your youth. ‘Basal miscreants?’ Are you fourteen or forty? Who talks like that?” Robin scowled. “Be glad that I don’t truss you up with them, cat.” Selina followed Robin through the doorway. “Uh-huh. ‘Truss.’ Give me a break. And who did you signal up on the roof? Are some of your bat-buddies coming in for a rescue anytime soon? I wouldn’t mind seeing the first Robin again. He had a real nice—” “Nightwing is indisposed. But, yes, help will arrive soon enough. Until then, we keep moving.” They stepped into a large room that might have taken up nearly half of the entire floor. The windows along the edges were boarded up, but enough moonlight was seeping through for them to see some shapes scattered throughout. Overhead, a dead spotlight was pointed at a door on the far side of the room. “This is set up to blind whoever walks through that door,” said Robin, pointing. “We’ve entered from the back, which explains why the goons were focused on guarding the door and not the hallway behind them.” “Very observant,” a raspy voice said from somewhere overhead. “Very observant indeed, young man.” A second spotlight flicked on, swiveling to blind them. Selina threw her forearms up to shield her pupils, but she would lose precious seconds trying to blink the sudden light away. Beside her, Robin cried out and was clutching at his domino mask. She reasoned that he might have flipped the lenses of his mask into night vision mode, which amplified all available light, so when the spotlight came on he was essentially looking into the sun. “I admit that I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” the raspy voice continued. “But no matter. Allowances can be made. Welcome…to your deaths.” “Master Dick, I do think this is rather a bad idea.” Dick Grayson had defied countless supervillains and practically been born on the high trapeze. But as he clumsily ascended a set of stairs built into the side of the cave wall, it would seem that a simple pair of crutches would be his downfall. “Sorry, Alfred,” the former Boy Wonder replied, “but you saw the alert from Damian. Batman and Robin are in over their heads. They need help.” While watching a satellite feed of the building that his mentor and pseudo-brother had entered from the monitor womb in the heart of the Batcave, Nightwing had been patiently waiting for something, anything from the Dynamic Duo. He would have been there with them already, had it not been for the broken tibia in his right leg, an injury he had suffered at the hands of the Mad Hatter just a few months ago. Finally, Robin and what looked like a threadbare Selina Kyle had popped out on the roof just long enough for Nightwing to spot them from overhead. Robin sent a rescue signal to the cave and them promptly vanished with Selina back into the building. Nightwing couldn’t help but notice Selina’s reluctance to plunge back into whatever madness awaited them. His role these days was offering tactical support from the cave, which was frustrating, but invaluable. The problem was that several of their cohorts were either occupied or unavailable. Bruce wouldn’t want the Justice League involved yet and Stephanie Brown said she couldn’t get there until the morning, as she was currently wrapped up in her own nightmare.* * Check out the latest issues of Batgirl by Emma Woods! So, it fell to him, busted leg and all. As soon as he had received the SOS from Damian, Nightwing had tapped in the commands to the console to ignite the Batwing’s engine. He could hear the turbines thrumming to life as the automated pre-flight check diligently commenced. Nightwing misjudged the height of the next step leading to the Batwing’s launch pad, banging the tip of his cast off of the cold and unforgiving stone. He whelped and winced, stumbling slightly. A strong hand grasped his bicep to help support him. Nightwing glanced over to see the smiling face of their little family’s most trusted companion, Alfred Pennyworth. “And who might help you, sir?” the butler said with a smile. “There’s no telling what’s happening inside the old hospital,” Nightwing replied after regaining his footing. “It’s a complete dead zone. You know how reluctant Damian is to ask for help. He wouldn’t have signaled if things weren’t serious.” With a sigh, Alfred relented. “At least let me send some hot chocolate along with you. It’s getting cold outside.” Nightwing couldn’t help but smile. Alfred had been like a second father to him, or perhaps third one considered his relationship with Bruce. He was stalwart in every sense of the word and supported them in everything from strategy to field dressing a shrapnel wound. As the butler helped Nightwing slip into the Batwing’s cockpit, Alfred perked up. “Actually, sir, a rather…compelling idea has just unraveled in my mind. If you’ll but wait a moment, I’ll make a quick phone call to see if I can’t get you some additional help tonight.” The hatch slammed shut at his feet, leaving Batman in darkness once more. It was true that the absence of light was a powerful tool when invoking fear in an enemy, but Batman was likely more comfortable in the dark than those that had brought him here. Batman took a few cautious steps into the poorly lit center of the surgical room, which had been altered like all the others. The entire facility seemed to have been retrofitted to fit each villains’ needs. Doctor Phosphorus had lined the morgue with copper to better conduct heat; Doctor Zodiac had used strobe lights and forced perspective to enthrall Batman. The flooring of this surgical suite seemed porous and unstable, more like gelatin than slabs of underlay or concrete. Some equipment was still visible, but the walls had been taken out between operating areas, leaving several gurneys, surgical tables, and even a dental chair to eerily sit randomly throughout the room. “It has been far too long, Batman.” The Dark Knight bent his knees slightly, preparing to launch himself at whatever threat was brought out next. This menagerie of supervillains was tiring, but he had enough in his reserves to power through until the end, wherever that may be. The floor suddenly shifted under him, dropping down in the center so it was acting as a gel-covered funnel. The gel seemed to be frictionless and Batman found himself sliding downward, despite any foothold he might try and wedge into the porous substance. Dropping to his side, Batman regained control of his descent by stabbing the spikes of his gauntlet through the gel, ripping into it and creating an anchor point for himself. If he still had his utility belt, he would have fired his gas-propelled grappling line into the ceiling to export himself from the trap. Instead, he clung in place and waited for the other shoe to drop in whatever machinations were unfolding. The ceiling opened and his next challenge lowered himself into the room, a soft and warm glow surrounding his body. He wore purple robes with a high collar, and his long beard trailed down the front of his chest. Clutched in both hands were curved sabers, which he tenderly swirled in his hands in a complex but smooth pattern. “Tzin,” Batman growled. “Indeed, Batman.” Doctor Tzin-Tzin’s eyes fluttered as the aura surrounding him pulsed. He maintained the pattern of his blade-twirling as he spoke. “Although I’m not surprised that you would recall your greatest adversary. Many years have passed since you forced me into seclusion and broke down my operations. But I have returned with even greater mastery of the mystic arts, as you can plainly see!” The aura pulsed purple and Tzin brandished the twin sabers with a furious wave of his arms. “My powers have only increased since we last faced one another!” he continued. “The mysticism of the universe has unfolded before me. And you, Batman, are at my mercy!” The hovering Tzin tilted forward, the twin swords cocked back and ready to slice against one another like scissors. He zoomed forward in the air, shouting, “My comrades weakened your spirit, and now I weaken your body!” Despite his precarious perch, Batman curled his legs up and slipped his gauntlet out of the gel, springing off to meet Tzin in midair. While the gel was frictionless, the flooring it was adhered to was still solid. He pushed perpendicular to the angled floor and gained the momentum he needed to leap outward. He spun, winding his cape around Tzin’s blades, entrapping them. The frustrated mystic growled and slammed into Batman, the Dark Knight dragging them both down into the pit of the funnel. The pair struggled even as they crashed into pit, Tzin never letting go of his ensnared swords, but still striking with his elbows in the same fashion that a Thai boxing champion might knock out his opponents. To keep Tzin’s swords at bay, Batman had to maintain the pressure of his twisted cape, leaving his just as handicapped. He shifted his stance and brought his armored forearms to bear, blocking Tzin’s elbow strikes. He lurched down and forward, sticking his leg out and twisting his torso, checking Tzin with a perfect judo hip throw, but the mystic countered and regained his balance quickly, ever nimble on his feet. Tzin bashed his forehead into the bridge of Batman’s nose, and while his mask took the brunt of the hit, his face was still exposed enough to split open his upper lip. “What’s your game, Tzin?” Batman said. “You were always a loner. What do you get out of joining their Board of Directors?” “My feeble fellow doctors,” Tzin said between grinding teeth. “They each serve their purpose, Batman. I am not so proud to realize that alone I could not defeat you. But together we have found strength in numbers, rivaling the inner strength I learned as part of the Tibetan rites that granted me my power!” A flash erupted from behind Tzin’s eyes and a pulse of purple force broke them apart. Batman’s cape tore away, finally freeing the crazed mystic’s swords. The Dark Knight fell against the sloped, gel-covered surface and slid down, falling into a crouch. “You have no idea what’s in store for you, Batman,” Tzin stated. “Why allow someone else to kill me, Tzin? Aren’t you capable of finishing me off yourself?” “Ha! A childish ploy, Batman.” Tzin began swirling his swords once more. “The Board of Directors has come together to defeat you. We are equals. I am at peace with who I am and would not take away the ending we have planned for you. No, Batman, I will relish your fate!” “The fate that will be guided by someone else you mean. Another of your group. Someone more adept than you, who has the skill to finish me. Not like you.” “Stop it.” Tzin’s swords wavered. Batman slowly came to his full height. The pair began to circle each other in the pit. He said, “Face it, Tzin. You were second-rate when I dismantled your operations in San Francisco years ago, and you’re second rate today. You had no hope of getting me in this position. You needed help. Because you’re weak.” “I am the master of the mysticism.” “You’re a deluded fool that your colleagues laugh at behind your back.” “I am your greatest adversary!” Tzin’s aura pulsed and winked out as his concentration broke and the swords rushed forward, stabbing at Batman. But the Dark Knight was already gone, swiftly spinning and slapping the blades aside with his gauntlets. He followed his spin through with a fist to Tzin’s temple, stunning the mystic. Tzin, to his credit, managed to roll with the strike enough to save himself from being knocked unconscious, but he still felt the blow. Batman brought his other fist up into Tzin’s chin, straightening the villain and perfectly positioning him for a final strike. “You’re pathetic,” Batman said, and drove his fist into Tzin’s face. The truth was that Batman barely recalled all of the details of his first encounter with Doctor Tzin-Tzin years ago. It had been so early in his career as a crimefighter that he hadn’t yet learned to keep detailed casefiles. They had crossed paths three times now, enough for Batman to know that Tzin’s arrogance could be leveraged against him to make mistakes. He used one of Tzin’s swords to slice away fabric from the villain’s robes. He bound Tzin’s arms behind him tightly and then wrapped fabric between the restraint and his ankles, effectively hogtying him at the base of the pit. Batman swung the sword through a few steps in the Kampai Budokai kata, testing its weight. It was a decent weapon with good balance and a razor’s edge. Truly deadly in the hands of someone like Tzin. Without his tools and equipment from his utility belt, Batman would take every advantage he could. Using the sword to stab into the sloping gel floor, Batman climbed out of the pit, leaving Tzin behind to be collected later. He knew there were other challenges awaiting him and couldn’t pause to rest now. He felt it was getting close to the end. Once he was righted outside of the sloped pit again, another door slid open at the far end of the surgical suite. He didn’t like being guided this way, but he had no choice. His cape tattered and gone, his costume nicked and torn, and his body pushed to the limit, Batman crossed to the doorway with sword in hand. There was a small maintenance corridor between the surgical suite of Doctor Tzin-Tzin and the next open space, which looked to be completely covered in mirrors. Several gas and water lines were wedged into the connecting hall, complete with hissing valves and spiking meters. The mirrors were all filled with the image of a man wearing a brown waistcoat, neckerchief, and flexing gloved hands. He bounced slightly on the balls of his feet, rocking up to the tips of his toes, and back again. He wafted eagerness. But aside from his anxious demeanor, what stood out the most was the plain skin covering his face, hiding eyes, nose, and mouth. The villain was unmistakable as anyone other than Doctor No-Face, the deviant criminal underboss that had tragically removed his own face. Once Bartholomew Magan had foolishly played with things he didn’t understand, he had cursed himself forever. “I see that fool Tzin couldn’t contain you,” the several dozen reflection of the eager No-Face said. “No matter. Phosphorus, Zodiac, and that ridiculous Fu Manchu wannabe were just a preamble to your greatest trial, Batman!” From the doorway, Batman could see that the entire floor had been gutted, and every flat surface had been lined with large mirrors. From floor to ceiling, including those surfaces as well, were gigantic reflective sheets of glass. Doctor No-Face’s visage was catapulted into infinity on every side. “My colleagues, if they can even be called that, undoubtedly drained you,” No-Face continued. “You are weakened physically and mentally. While they took away your prowess, I will take away that which is most precious to you: your very identity!” The millions of No-Faces spread their arms wide to indicate the fragmented reality around them. He said, “Step into my chamber of mirrors, Batman! Find me if you can! Within moments you’ll find yourself lost in your own existence, doubting your true self! You’ll beg me to remove your mask, Batman. And when I do, I’ll remove your face as well! To stop me you’ll have to find me!” Batman’s eyes flicked from left to right, assessing the room. “You’re standing in the center, Magan. Doctor No-Face paused, slowly lowing his arms. “No. No, I’m not.” “Yes, you are. Judging by the angle of the reflections, you’re standing approximately 20 feet in front of me, with absolutely no cover to hide behind.” “My chamber of mirrors only make it seem like I’m standing out in the open!” “No, you’re definitely unprotected. This is just a large room with mirrors hung up on the walls. Given the depth of planning by the other Board of Directors, I assume you were only allowed membership due to, what, funding? Loyal underlings?” No-Face began to speak, but hesitated. It took him a moment to noticeably collect himself. “Uh…you’re confused, Batman! My chamber is already distorting your reality. See? Ha! Even you cannot—” “Stand down and you won’t have to get hurt.” “You are the one who will—” Batman huffed. “I’m not in the mood for this, Magan. Last warning.” Doctor No-Face stomped his foot, cracking the mirror he was standing on. He said, “I’ll wipe that smug look off of your face along with the rest of your…uh…face! Are you so terrified of my brilliant—” Batman twisted and slashed Tzin’s sword down onto one of the valves on the wall beside him. The metal wheel dropped into his hand. He cocked his wrist back and flung the object with precision, just as he would one of his batarangs if he still had his utility belt. The wheel struck Doctor No-Face’s forehead with a resounding thunk!, kicking his head back and throwing him off balance. He stumbled dizzily for a half-step and then slumped to the cracked mirror beneath him, unconscious. Batman walked right on by No-Face without even pausing to restrain him. He wanted to get everything over with by finding the last of the Board members. No-Face wouldn’t pose any kind of problem later if he needed to be tracked down again. Feeling along the edges of the mirrors on the far wall, Batman quickly located a hinge and pulled. The large mirror swung away to reveal the next doorway, which he opened and stepped through. The door automatically shut behind him, leaving him in darkness once again. Before his eyes could adjust or he could flick on his night vision lenses, a searing spotlight overhead switched on, blinding him. “Hello, Batman,” a voice said over an intercom. Batman shielded his eyes with his left hand while he tightly gripped the sword with his right. Whatever came next, he would put it down quickly and move through until the final stage of this nightmare. “No words?” the voice continued. “No matter. This room is ill-prepared anyway and I would hate for you to waste both of our time. I have so precious little of it these days. The other Board members served their purposes to weaken you and bring you to this point. Although Doctor Double X will never have his opportunity, I’m sorry to say.” Another spotlight in the corner of the room switched on, bathing a dormant Doctor Double X in yellow light. He was lying prone on a hospital gurney, his arm hanging loosely off the side. His head was tilted awkwardly and foam was bubbling out of his mouth. “This would have been his space,” the voice said. “His chance to humiliate you. He had a rather novel approach to wearing you down: he was going to send double after double into a narrow space to confront you.” The floor shook slightly as slots between the boards opened and twin plexiglass shields rose up until they met the ceiling, effectively creating a corridor barely wider than Batman himself. “See? You were to be challenged from the front and the rear simultaneously, but without the luxury of maneuverability. A physical confrontation that favored the lesser-skilled combatant. Quite clever I thought. But, alas. As you can see, the good doctor isn’t in any condition to partake.” Double X’s arm jerked slightly, but he appeared to be practically comatose. “And you?” Batman asked. “Are you coming to take his place? Did you poison him so you could have your vengeance against me alone?” The voice sighed, as if bored. “No, I was content to let Double X have his fun, just like the others. But your little birdie got to Double X first.” Another spotlight illuminated Robin, bound at the wrists and hanging from a hook anchored to the ceiling with his arms overhead. His face was swollen, but strangely not bruised. Batman’s initial instinct was to leap to the top of the plexiglass and try to leap to Robin, but it was too high and the surface too smooth to get any kind of foothold. He glanced at Double X, then back to Robin. He hadn’t noticed immediately, but Double X’s face was similarly swollen. “Bring him down!” Batman shouted. “What have you poisoned them with?” “You’re getting ahead of yourself, Batman,” the voice chided. “Let us not forget the cat while we’re engaged in our little game.” Yet another spotlight angled in the opposite corner revealed Selina Kyle, her head shaved and her body barely covered in a torn hospital gown, also hanging by her wrists. Her face was swollen and her lips puffy, with spittle seeping out at the corners. Her eyes fluttered open and she barely managed to say, “B…Batman…” “Let them go!” Batman yelled. “You monster! Come out!” The voice chuckled. “A monster, am I? Yes, Batman, I am well aware. I have been called that before, and much worse.” A final spotlight erupted to life, this time casting its light onto the observation room near the ceiling, nestled between the barely alive Robin and Catwoman. Batman realized he was standing in an operating room, complete with viewing area where students and surgical staff could observe surgeries in progress. The light cast shadows over the distorted and mutilated face of the first true supervillain that Batman had ever encountered. The pale green features were bulbous and asymmetrical, with jagged teeth bent awkwardly out from between the thin lips. The creature leaned over the control console in the observation room so that Batman could see his grotesque figure more clearly. “Or have you forgotten, Batman…what death looks like?” NEXT: ‘Hospital of Pain’ concludes! With Robin and Catwoman’s lives literally hanging in the balance, Batman will need to face the vicious Doctor Death. But even the Dark Knight will not walk away unscathed. One life will change before the story ends! |