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Batman rushed through heavy gloomy silhouettes of Gotham city, his car blending together with the industrial nightmare of polluted streets, hiding amongst tricky turns and destroyed infrastructure. Tired eyes could only see how one melted in the speed road changed for another, barely detecting anything outside of monotonous humming from the enemy’s radio communications, which only became less noticeable after hours. Chunks of smoke floated in the air, seemingly not moving, eternally stuck like torn pieces of the reality’s fabric, and inside them there were pupils of greater beings watching Batman. Or there was not, and it was just two bloody peepers of the clown who now sat behind the knight. He knew that there was no one behind him, but the very tangible presence of the intruder did not leave his spine, crawling on it bone by bone, as a familiar voice scratched ears from inside until they ached, voice so real - more real than any of reality, but obviously non-existent.
-Ba~ats, you can’t just leave me hanging! I think I was behaving well, can I see Gotham’s poisoning with Scarecrow’s funky gas? Pretty please!
Batman did not react as a hallucination of the dead clown childishly whined, craving some entertainment, even if ignoring the twisted figure itself was unbearably difficult. Doesn’t matter how fast batmobile was going, how distracted the driver was, how important it was to just look straight forward - that distorted carcass kept showing up just at the corner of the eye, its disproportionately long limbs made its way close enough to wrap misshapen fingers with uncountable phalanges around Batman’s eyes, and as much as he was still seeing everything - sensation of touch from another side made him lose control over the road. Sometimes Joker’s face hid just around the corner, waiting with a wide smile that tore his mouth apart while eyeballs slowly went loose outside the skull from joy to just slightly startle old nemesis, and hero fell for it few times, but now he met turns with blocked vision just so jester wouldn’t thought old tricks are working the same way. Disappointed, Joker chose to make the knight look at him, calling from behind, talking loudly while being too close for comfort, just doing everything that will make Batman turn behind and again lose all the blood from his face from seeing an awry copy of an already ugly being called Joker. Batman knew it, well aware that to get out of the underworld he must never turn back, even if the voice of the dead is calling him.
For a mere moment Batman felt like he’s about to drop dead on the steering wheel. Humming, buzzing, screeching and roaring - all that surrendered him,keeping awake - all was gone just for a second, replaced with overflowing silence, just interrupted with distant talk of his hallucination. Was he falling asleep or unconscious was even impossible to tell, but he came back to reality just mumbling something to Alfred, as his butler in his classic mannerisms talked about someone from Gotham’s criminal database. At first, Batman couldn’t even figure out what the speech was about.
-...And I believe, Master Bruce, that leaving him on the streets is not only highly dangerous for Gotham’s wellbeing, but possibly even for mister Zsasz himself knowing his… Odd and quit self-destructive preferences.
Slowly gaining back the sense of reality, Batman replied with strength in his voice that did not matched with inner gut retching numbness and growing headache from need to hear himself over the loud ghost that now sat right by with head getting through the roof of the car:
-I’m not leaving him. I planned to find Victor later. I can’t deal with him right now.
-I understand, sir. But maybe… - Alfred interrupted himself, sound of the keyboard followed.- You won’t mind if I’ll send you GSPD’s data on him.
-I’ll make him regret returning from Arkham city. - Knight said gripping his teeth, not from anger but from incoming and raising migraine.
-No doubts, sir.
As the screen with butler went black, Batman once again was left alone with the clown tapeworm eating his brain.
-What, you want to get Slicey now? Come on, Bats, I like that guy! He’s failed me in our little Arkham rendezvous, but we all make mistakes, you know it better than me!
Batman tried not to listen. Joker’s voice stuck between his normal state and some indescribable inverted distorted screeching, sounding both at the same time and clearly separated as only one was able to reach the brain at one second.
-It’s a shame we haven’t got a chance to meet all together again, old Arkham gang!
The hero asked himself more and more if it was real - all that. The roar of the engine started to hide muffled screaming, tires shriek called for help, like they just ran over someone, even if the road was clearly clean.
-Me,dear Harley, old Crane, Crock, my boy, Ivy! And Zsasz, of course, that little bloodthirsty freak.
The dissolved picture outside is more and more reminiscent of the cardboard cutout the real city once was. Batman gripped the rudder more, attempting to sense his body, but the costume felt empty from inside. He desperately needed someone real nearby. Not an atrocity born by poisoned with Titan mind, not a lifeless shaky conversation between the militia and the Arkham Knight. He would agree for the company of anyone, almost reaching out for Alfed again but what butler would think if a usually distant and cold master will accidentally call just to get rid of silence?
Pain was increasing, pulsating in the head, sending waves that seemingly reached down all the body, calling out old wounds to cry in response, trying to force the hero to stop moving for a moment, but he never did, getting lost in the labyrinth of indecisiveness of where to go and what to do. He knew it just a little time ago, but now all thoughts scattered around like roaches, not willing to go out until it’s safe. He couldn’t even tell if the batmobile is moving anymore, and if it does where it goes now. Batman felt half asleep, tiredness hit exhausted brain, washing it with a thick sensation of heaviness,and he finally realised that if he stays on the road in a car - he will crash.
Slowing down, Batman looked behind him. He kept hearing the voice right in his ear, but could not find the source anymore. He couldn't even tell if it belonged to Joker, just knew it did. Batman looked at the road outside. Cracks on its surface for some reason looked like apathetic dead eels, scattered around in the last moments of life. Watching them, Batman recognised that those are not eels, it's just broken concrete, but couldn't process that. He forced eyes to turn back to the small batcomputer in the car. Zsasz's file was still there. Uncanny face looked back at the knight, inanimate, being just a photo. Batman stared at the screen with a growing white noise inside his head trying to remember what he was thinking about just minutes ago. Confused, the winged hero lifted his head, looking forward but seeing nothing. He saw the street, the road, something that reminded humans, but couldn't put it back together and remember what he was trying to do literally just recently. Batman started the engine again, unable to recover a memory of turning it off and began to drive somewhere, completely switched from his abstract goals to something right in front of him. He know that he goes to find Victor despite denying it to Alfred. Why did Batman go for him? It was something he could put his finger on.
He just moved around the city, not really counting how many minutes he spent circling around the area, forgetting where he was heading and remembering again, changing trajectory, getting distracted by completely different people and tasks, solving riddles, fighting against militia, listening how somewhere above there is Scarecrow broadcasting his promises to ruin Batman's life, as if knight wasn't already driving around ruins of his own sanity, seeing Joker more and less, finding him in statues, on posters, in faces of his enemies and friends, in glimpses of reflection flashing before his eyes. He tried to run away,but the only way to do that was to once again forget himself in someone else's trouble. He knew it even now, standing still in front of the work of someone he knew.
Corpses of the Penguin’s men were playing a small scene with fishing, playing well enough to look almost alive from afar. Batman stood right in front of this installation, as if he came into the museum of the wax statues. Faces of the criminals lost human look, more reminding now of poorly made copies. Green and purple and white mass jumped behind them, mocking the dead with grimaces on its absent face.
— Poor guys, Penguin probably was furious! If I was him — I would put this into his silly museum in Arkham city just as a little appreciation. Look at them! Almost alive! Only gutted and slightly rotten, but aside from that-
Batman did not listen. He looked at the posed bodies feeling hypnotized. His stare was glued to one spot and rejected to move, even if not seeing anything particularly fascinating. He saw the bloody painting Victor created seeing how much dead men's eyes remind him of something. Was it a reflection of Zsasz's eyes, Batman's, or someone completely different — did not matter. Those were the eyes of the living dead stuck in-between life and death, and Batman recognised it. Looking at it, he questioned himself, wishing those thoughts to stay inside his head, if it would be justified right now to give up and simply die without any dignity. But just he thought about it and the abomination with a clown face already had this thought all for itself.
— You want to kill yourself? Don't you dare, we have so much to do! Just give up and let me take control, it's as simple as that! - The thing laughed hysterically, delighted by some thought - Oh wait, you Are going to give up! You are giving up! You want to kill yourself! All mighty bat want to die! Just a little bit more, and your mind is all mine, and then!-
Batman wanted to grab his own skull and yell, physically feeling how someone is digging through his mind, regretting ever thinking anything in the presence of this creature. He tried to calm heart down as it tried to break his ribs at a wild rate, losing any rhythm. All Batman could do was stand still, hoping that all his senses would just disappear. Fear of thinking overflowed, promising that all the thoughts will be now weaponised against their owner.
Breathing deeply, Batman just ignored reality until it hadn't become silent. His knees grew weaker, just barely trembling after escaping the incoming panic attack. Cold sweat covered the open part of the face like a thin membrane. Knight opened his eyes just to meet with the unmoving stare of the dead thug. Batman couldn't already feel any rage because of these corpses. He knew he must go for the one who killed them, but barely had any confidence if the leftovers of the man he was will be enough to stop Zsasz, especially for good. Batman raised his hands looking at them. Was it blurry vision or not, but now he couldn't even tell his arms apart.
Following Victor's blood soaked path, hero saw that tally man wasn't actually hiding too hard, intentionally or not leaving a trail behind, leading to his lair. Trying to recreate the route though, Batman inevitably hit the wall as his brain got stuck on a single thought, repeating it over and over, turning mind into a broken gramophone. Trying to unstuck a needle of the idea, he again and again lost all of it, already unable to recover. In that stream of remembering and forgetting he finally got to the destination point, walking out of the batmobile and flying down to the hidden underground area where the murderer was hiding. Batman already wasn't tired, scared of the joker monster following him or unnerved by fear of losing. He was afraid to think about any of it much more just because it would mean hearing that creature laughing at him again, and it was just so tiring. He knew that whatever happens— it can't become worse.
He couldn't remember how they met each other's eyes. Sharp in any other day, but melted into nothing today Batman's glimmers met the foggy empty stare of Victor’s icy eyes. The maniac didn't look surprised or scared, but the hero also wasn't expressing anything, meeting the opponent with silence.
An amalgamation grew behind Victor, who was sitting on the floor leaning on his knee. Bones tore through the white flesh as it began to smile, cracking its skin on something remotely looking like a face. It lifted long limb with broken twisted bones to its crushed neck, imitating the movement of a knife slicing a throat. Batman tried not to look, scared that Zsasz would turn around and reveal one of two horrible truths. Knight overpowered himself, finally opening his mouth and talking to only real person he saw in hours:
—I know what you've done.
Zsasz smirked, squinting like he always did.
— I wasn't counting on it being hard to tell, Batman. - His high voice sounded oddly calm, just a little shaky with excitement. - Even if the message wasn't left for you, I'm always glad to see you again.
Batman made a few steps closer, forcing himself to prepare for a fight. He knew that even if Victor looked now half asleep — he really probably never actually slept. Maybe, Batman thought, Victor is not even a person. Maybe he is some aethereal being, actually sent from above. Vigilante shook his head, trying to clear delirium out of the skull at least for a moment, but thoughts remained melted together into feverish nonsense. He got even closer, slowly remembering how to move, finally breaking the burden of exhaustion, just throwing himself into a fight like jumping into cold water, watching, how Zsasz in mere second already dashed forward, in one snatch almost hitting bat with a knife, barely missing vulnerable part of the costume. Repelling the attack, Batman could sense how slow he was now, how the body wasn't even his own anymore. Punching grew more sketchy, barely hitting the killer who always was way too fast, as Batman barely backed off away from Victor’s blade. Just a few times the hero hit hard enough for the murderer to actually hurt him, but it felt somehow wrong. Batman knew that he just didn't want to fight, but kept going. Dodging once again, he left the back open, allowing Zsasz to grab him from behind, hanging on his neck and blocking the vision, weighing him down. Batman looked up, barely able to see as Victor’s sleeved arm covered eyes, and up there he saw again that goddamn monstrous smile he was so sick of. Just for a moment the knight felt like all of his muscles went limp, unable to move, bending down under the added extra half of Batman's weight. A loud noise filled the ears as sight disappeared completely, and the hero understood that he was losing consciousness, dropping on the floor. The only thing that kept him awake was natural self preservation instinct, holding brain from completely turning off, forcing it to keep working and try to struggle against the murderer, who was now sitting on bat’s back, holding a knife closely to his enemy.
As vision was clearing again, Batman understood his situation, innerly confused over the fact that he lost to Victor. It felt almost absurd, even if he wasn't even trying to defend. Pinned to the floor face down, he tried to look forward, trying to find something to look at, when Zsasz leaned forward to his defeated enemy's face, making their gazes meet again. Lunatic slightly smiled, ignoring blood dripping down his face from the broken nose, his widely open light blue eyes caught some light making that dead look more human.
Batman mumbled through his teeth:
—What are you waiting for? Kill me. I won't give you another chance.
Zsasz smiled wider, silently giggling, leaning more, almost embracing the knight's shoulders.
— I've promised to be gentle with you. I don't want to hurt you too badly… — He whispered, silently taking a long trembling breath in the end. — Even if it takes all of my patience, I wanted you for so long…
Batman felt how the last phrase Victor said made his throat go dry. Accidentally the atmosphere grew more intimate as a phantom of Zsasz's body heat reached the person underneath the costume. The hero gulped some air, closing his eyes trying to wash off the warmth colouring his face. He almost perfectly understood that Zsasz meant something completely different from how bat’s brain registered, but pleasant distraction now was more than welcome, even if it was promising no good.
Suddenly the weight from his back was gone, and soon his numb body was with a little help lied on the back. Batman blinked slowly, clearing his vision. Victor sat nearby looking down at him, his orbs slightly illuminated in the mere lights coming from above. Sneering, he was investigating Batman's face.
— Oh, you look miserable!
Killer’s susurration sounded so joyful, as if seeing what he saw was all he could ever wish for. Batman wanted to look away to flee from the cloudy gaze, but found himself on a thought that until he sees Victor and just him — nasty formation of his poisoned brain won't get in sight. He hoped so, almost desperately. But he knew there was no escape anymore.
Gaunt figure rose up near Zsasz again. Its green pupils flashed on bloodshot eyes as expression on its disfigured face grew mad from anger, torn skin turned pale, then red, bleeding from the pressure of attempting to make an expression. Batman sensed a tide grip of fear on his neck, trying not to even breathe hoping that his mind won't believe in the reality of that happening. But as soon as Victor started to get closer, tilting his head, wanting to say something, the hellkite showed its yellow rotten teeth, getting ready to tear apart someone who wanted to take Batman away. It's towered over Zsasz, digging phantom nails into his naked shoulders. And even if bat clearly saw that the murderer felt nothing at all, he already did not believe anything.
—I thought we were friends, Slicey…
The voice already not sounding like anything Batman ever heard came somewhere from within the monster, from his lungs, veins, maybe not at all and this whole time it was coming from inside the hero even if he definitely was silent. How could he trust himself now though?
He tried to breathe desperately, hiding the fear inside of his head, listening to Victor speaking even if there was no word he now could understand. He focused on the unbothered tired face of the maniac, trying different parts of it, recognising shapes, admiring them and forgetting all over again. He saw that Joker killed Victor for his betrayal, but still could hear that the man is actually still here, alive. The soothing melody of his voice was almost reassuring, relieving the mind and making the heart listen as well, finding love confessions in the cryptic words created by Zsasz's mind, as sick as Batman's. The knight watched as the monster tore unrecognisable body apart from afar, sometimes feeling like he gets closer, then the opposite, as if he's small as a mouse or big as this entire hall. But the voice was there, calm and quiet, asking not to be afraid, drawing a portrait of the death in sentences, promising that there is nothing to be scared of.