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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Apr 21, 2013 21:20:24 GMT 1
(And here's the first installment. This takes place before Arkham Asylum.)
“Patient interview number one,” a petite red-haired woman dressed in an Arkham lab coat says into the tape recorder, her voice a rich alto. “Patient’s name is Edward Kelley, also known by the alias Wraith. Aged 26, declared criminally insane by a court-appointed psychologist after he murdered more than thirty people. Initial diagnosis is dissociative identity disorder coupled with probable alexithymia.” Pausing to take a sip of water, she looks across the table to her patient; a young man of slightly less than average height with short brown hair, green eyes, and a lithe yet powerful physique. “Good evening, Edward. I’m Doctor Cassidy.”
“Good evening, Doctor,” Edward says, his voice cool and precise.
“Since this is our first session I was thinking we should try to get to know one another,” Dr. Cassidy says, her voice friendly, but professional.
“That’s an odd choice of words, Doctor,” Edward answers.
“How so?”
“Usually when two people get to know each other, it’s a give-and-take from both parties. But here, you’re going to be asking me questions about myself while not revealing anything about yourself,” he explains.
“I see,” Dr. Cassidy says, making a notation on her notepad. “In that case, tell me about yourself so I can get to know you.”
“What do you want to know?” Edward asks.
“We could start with your childhood,” she says.
“Thinking that part of the reason for me doing what I’ve done stems from some childhood tragedy, Doctor?” he asks, his voice still cool and calm.
“That’s what is usually seen in many cases,” she explains.
“Well, in this case, you’re right. My father was a botanist and a teacher at Gotham University. My mother was a private investigator. She’s the one who started me on martial arts while my father did everything he could to challenge my mind,” Edward says.
“So you were pushed hard early on?” she asks, making some notes.
“Oh, yes. Every day there’d be new challenges from both of them after I was done with my schoolwork. They were tough, but I understood why they pushed me as hard as they did. They saw I had potential and wanted to see how far I could go,” he continues. “When I was about ten years old, they became politically active; my mother’s work exposed her to some of the worst corruption this City has to offer while my father was frustrated with money being allocated to what he considered trivial programs instead of being spent on trying to improve the quality of education.”
“Go on,” she says, clearly interested in what he’s saying.
“Eventually, they decided it would be best to run for office. That decision was the catalyst for what was to come,” he continues, his voice tone not changing despite his somewhat ominous words.
“What do you mean?”
“They were heavily anti-corruption, focused on weeding out corrupt officials and were very vocal about it. They started making waves which made headlines which made certain people angry. People who had connections that knew how to make an annoyance disappear,” he continues, waiting to see if Dr. Cassidy will get what he’s saying.
For a moment she looks puzzled, then shock shows on her face as she realizes who she’s speaking to. “My God… you mean you’re…” she manages, fumbling over her words.
“Yes. I am the son of Jack and Fiona Kelley,” he finishes for her.
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Apr 21, 2013 21:36:43 GMT 1
Oooooh, now i;m interested... In the Nolan films and the comics i suppose they did see the Wayne's were figureheads of this anti-corruption movement and fighting poverty. So the Kelley's could be some of those people. Also killing 30 dudes, hell of a resumee but then again small potatoes compared to the Joker a few cells next door.
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Apr 21, 2013 21:44:54 GMT 1
Oooooh, now i;m interested... In the Nolan films and the comics i suppose they did see the Wayne's were figureheads of this anti-corruption movement and fighting poverty. So the Kelley's could be some of those people. Also killing 30 dudes, hell of a resumee but then again small potatoes compared to the Joker a few cells next door. That's small potatoes for most everyone in Arkham. Zsasz alone gets 20 every time he escapes.
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Apr 21, 2013 21:57:44 GMT 1
I like Zsasz, i dunno i got a thing for like small type serial killers that Batman goes up against.
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Apr 21, 2013 22:02:43 GMT 1
Well if you read the name of Edward's psychologist you'll see a connection between him and Zsasz. This will make things interesting later.
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Apr 21, 2013 22:15:43 GMT 1
I recall her name from the audio files, been a while though.
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Apr 22, 2013 1:32:15 GMT 1
I recall her name from the audio files, been a while though. Listen to Zsasz's tapes. You'll see what I mean.
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Apr 22, 2013 8:18:24 GMT 1
Yeah i know, i also read the comics that came out before the game.
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Apr 27, 2013 7:46:01 GMT 1
“Patient interview number seven,” Dr. Cassidy says into her tape recorder. “Based on our previous sessions, I concur with Dr. Howard’s diagnosis of alexithymia and would like to add definite perfectionistic tendencies to the diagnosis. However, the diagnosis of dissociative personality disorder is yet to be confirmed.” Setting the recorder on the table, she pulls out her notebook and pencil. “Good evening, Edward,” she says pleasantly.
“Good evening, Doctor,” Edward answers in his usual cool, precise tone. Over the past couple weeks, his hair has gotten shaggier and he’s sporting a great deal of stubble, giving him a wild-looking cast that belies his meticulous demeanor. “What would you like to talk about today? I believe we’ve exhausted the significant events of my life up to my parents’ murders,” he remarks in roughly the same manner as a normal person would the weather or the results of a baseball game.
Barely able to stifle a shudder, Dr. Cassidy replies, “Tell me about the night your parents died.”
“It started off as a typical night. Father had given me a series of lessons on the properties of various plants; what aliments some could treat, which ones were edible, which to avoid because they were poisonous, and so on. Mother’s lessons were a review of the principles of martial arts that I’d been studying for at least an hour per day ever since I could throw a punch; where and how to strike to get the most effect given my size, how to escape numerous holds, the best ways to use someone’s momentum against them,” he says, his tone unchanging though he’s watching her reaction as he dispassionately tells the story.
“I’d been in bed for about an hour when everything went sideways,” he continues. “At the time, everything felt like it was in slow motion. Both doors downstairs were broken down at nearly the same time. Not long after, my mother rushed into my room, ordering me to get out of the house through my bedroom window. I did as she told me, hiding in the branches of a nearby oak tree just as they dragged my bleeding father into my room. I watched as the ringleader took a Colt .45 and put a bullet in my father’s head. Then I watched as my mother tried to avenge him, bringing down two thugs before taking a shotgun blast to the chest followed by the rest of the leader’s pistol magazine to the head. To cover their tracks, they set my family’s house on fire. I waited until they left before I dropped from the tree and ran away from the scene.”
“My God, that’s horrible,” Dr. Cassidy says, her expression filled with revulsion over what Edward had witnessed… but there’s a tinge of uneasiness in her expression as well.
“You’ve worked here for some time, Doctor,” Edward says, matter-of-factly. “You should be aware of what people can do to one another.”
“That doesn’t make it any less terrible,” she counters, trying to compose herself. “What did you do after you ran away?”
“I went into Gotham Forest,” he replies. “Used the knowledge and skills my parents had given me to stay alive for about a week.”
“Why didn’t you go to the police?” she asks, incredulous that a ten year old child would choose to brave the city park instead of taking the safer route.
Looking her in the eye, his expression cool and almost predatory, he answers with a question of his own. “Why would I go to my family’s executioners?”
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Post by Warhammer Gorvar on Apr 27, 2013 10:49:28 GMT 1
Ooooh snap gotham PD's corruption strikes again!
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Jun 18, 2015 23:34:35 GMT 1
“Patient interview eight,” Dr. Cassidy says into her recorder. “The more I work with Edward, the more I find myself sympathizing with him. And though I’m uncertain he’ll ever be truly normal, I’m sure that in time he’ll be able to re-assimilate into society.”
As she sets her recorder on the table, a guard pokes his head in the room. “We’re ready, doc,” he says.
“Bring him in,” she answers, sipping her bottled water. When the guards escort Edward into the room, she gasps slightly; he’s even more scraggly-looking than before and his face is sporting several wounds including a split lip, a black eye, and a cut on his forehead near his hairline. “What happened to you?”
“Boles happened,” he answers, his voice in its ever-cool almost expressionless voice. “Apparently he mistook my demeanor for being disrespectful.”
Shocked at his reaction, she stammers, “H-how can you be so calm about this? Aren’t you angry?”
“This is only a trifling, Doctor,” Edward says. “I’ve been through far worse than this many times over.”
“That doesn’t make it ok,” she returns, trying to compose herself.
“Of course not,” he agrees. “I’m sure he’ll receive his punishment in due time. Shall we begin with today’s session?”
“Are you sure?” she asks, surprised he wants to continue despite the beating he’d taken.
“Of course. As I said, I’ve endured worse than this,” he replies. “Although I’d like to apologize before we begin.”
“For what?” she asks, surprised.
“I’ve noticed that you find my demeanor to be… unsettling,” he says. “It’s not my intent to frighten you.”
Surprised again, Dr. Cassidy makes a couple notes in her book. “I see,” she says. “Let’s begin. I’d like to know how you decided to become killer. I don’t imagine it happened overnight.”
“Not quite, doctor,” Edward answers, settling in his chair as much as his restraints will allow. “I told you earlier I’d fled into Gotham Forest when my house was burned. I spent a week living off of various plants and drinking whatever water I could find. One night I heard a woman screaming. Since I’d been trying to avoid people, my first instinct was to stay away, but for reasons I didn’t understand at the time, I chose to investigate.”
“Go on,” Dr. Cassidy prompts when Edward goes silent.
“When I arrived, I saw a man cutting the woman’s clothes off with a knife while she begged him for mercy,” Edward continues dispassionately. “Hearing the man’s glee at what he was doing made something snap inside me. I grabbed a rock that was a bit bigger than my clenched fist, snuck up on him, and smashed it as hard as I could into the back of his head. What happened immediately afterward is… blurry. I only know the next thing I remember is him face down on the ground with me straddling his back, my arms aching from exhaustion and my body painted with his blood. The first life I ever took.”
Once more, Dr. Cassidy is taken aback by Edward’s demeanor, the man seemingly thinking nothing of having killed at the age of ten. “What happened to the woman?”
“I’ll not reveal any of her personal information. Suffice to say she took me in and raised me well away from Gotham,” Edward says, shifting in his chair to get more comfortable. “My life from then on was fairly normal by most standards. But that night opened my eyes and I knew I would eventually return to Gotham once I was old enough and developed the skills I needed for what I planned to do.”
Before Dr. Cassidy can respond, one of the guards knocks on the door. “Sorry to bother you doc, but your next patient is on the way.”
“Thank you, Mike,” Dr. Cassidy responds, finishing her notes and storing them in Edward’s file folder, trying to stifle a note of concern and worry running through her.
“Are you alright, Doctor? You appear frightened,” Edward asks, reading the shift in her body language and softening his voice with a touch of concern.
“I’ll be fine,” she responds distractedly.
“It’s Zsasz, isn’t it?”
Looking up in surprise, she tries to stammer a response, but Edward continues.
“I’ve noticed every time I’ve had my sessions with you, Zsasz is being brought from his cell to your office as I’m being escorted out,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Also… he’s been talking about you.” Leaning as closely as he can manage with the restraints on his body, he continues. “Be very careful with him, Doctor. If what I’ve heard about him is true, he’s picked you as his next target. If you don’t have a gun, I suggest you buy one and learn to use it quickly. And be on your guard. This may be Arkham, but escapes happen so often that it’s ludicrous.”
Dr. Cassidy’s shock grows as she hadn’t expected this behavior from her patient. After a moment, she re-opens her notes and quickly scribbles something down before closing them again. “I see,” she says, her voice a mix of surprise and caution. “Thank you Edward. I’ll see you next week,” she finishes, motioning for the guards to escort Edward back to his cell.
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Jun 28, 2015 20:46:18 GMT 1
(double post)
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Jun 29, 2015 5:17:51 GMT 1
"Taped patient interview number nine. Subject is Edward Kelley; preliminary diagnoses are alexithymia and dissociative identity disorder. However, prior sessions indicate these diagnoses may be incorrect," the doctor, an older woman with dark graying hair, wireframe glasses, and a German accent says into the tape recorder. "Hello, Edward. I'm Dr. Whistler," she says to her patient who has mostly healed from the beating he'd received from Officer Boles prior to his last session with Dr. Cassidy. Additionally, Edward is looking less haggard than before, apparently starting to pay better attention to his appearance despite his long hair and beard.
"Good evening, Doctor," Edward replies, his voice cool as ever, though it holds a hint of curiosity. "I was unaware I had been reassigned to a new therapist."
"This is only temporary Edward. Dr. Cassidy had to take leave for personal reasons," the older woman explains.
"Perfectly understandable. So… how shall we proceed?" the young man asks.
"I'd like to discuss your activities that led to your being brought here," Dr. Whistler answers.
"You mean the people I killed. Not quite the how, but the why, am I correct?" Edward counters.
"Yes, though I would also like to discuss why you chose the methods you used," Dr. Whistler answers simply.
"Very well," Edward replies, settling into his chair as much as his restraints will allow. "As I revealed to Dr. Cassidy, my parents had made political waves with their anti-corruption stance while running for office. This in turn caused those who benefit most from Gotham's corruption to send dirty Gotham PD officers to our house and assassinate the three of us. It was the incompetence of the badge-carrying thugs that allowed me to survive. Since I couldn't go to the police lest I find myself a victim of an… unfortunate accident, I took to the streets and parks. While I was raised outside of Gotham, I began my research, trying to find the names of those who were involved in my parents' murders."
"I see," Dr. Whistler says, taking notes as her patient speaks. "Please continue."
"Naturally, most of the information I found was of spotty quality at best, so I took a different tack. I instead changed my focus to further honing my skills in fighting and my knowledge base, focusing on criminal investigation for the latter. Like my mother before me, I used my skills to chase down bail jumpers and saved as much money as possible before returning to Gotham," Edward continues, his cool, neutral tone not wavering as he speaks.
"Why would you need money?" Dr. Whistler asks, looking up from her notes.
"Because I'd realized that to get a start on my hunt, I'd need information that can only be bought from select individuals. In my case I took an alias, spoke with Oswald Cobblepot and paid for information regarding my parents' murders," Edward says.
"The Penguin? Why him?"
"Simple reason: he had the information and I had the money. Fairly easy business transaction, all things considered. Said information gave me a good starting point for a more focused research path which eventually yielded the names, photos, and locations of my targets," Edward explains as if he's talking about a shopping list rather than a hitlist.
Unlike Dr. Cassidy before her, Dr. Whistler is unfazed by Edward's demeanor and simply continues taking notes. "I see. What about your methods of killing?"
"Again the reason is quite simple: if I'd just shown up and either shot or stabbed my targets, the others would quickly go to ground and I'd likely find myself captured or killed before my task was complete," he continues. "Additionally, using toxins can deflect suspicion if done correctly."
"You mean when Poison Ivy was considered a suspect for your crimes," Dr. Whistler comments.
"Poison Ivy, vengeful spouses, disgruntled domestic workers… as long as the evidence pointed to someone else, the killings had an element of randomness to them, and they weren't closely-timed I could work," Edward continues. "Also, not all of my kills were with poisonous plants. Sometimes I made it look like a mugging gone sideways or took advantage of a deadly allergic reaction. The key was to kill all of my targets, not necessarily kill them as quickly as possible."
"And why did you do it?" Dr. Whistler asks coming to the crux of the session.
"Most would claim justice or some other lofty ideal to justify such actions," Edward says. "I'm not nearly self-deluded enough to walk down that path. No, my motive was simple: revenge. They killed my parents so I killed them."
"And you think this justifies what you've done?" Dr. Whistler asks, her tone slightly demanding.
"I said it was my motive. I never said it was a justification," Edward counters, evenly.
"So you're a vigilante?"
"Of course not," Edward responds. "Vigilantes act to enforce their interpretation of the law. I simply exacted revenge on the specific people who murdered my family and were directly and knowingly involved in the process."
"I see," Dr. Whistler answers, quickly writing down additional notes. "And do you feel remorse for your actions?"
"That is not a subject I wish to broach, Doctor," Edward says flatly. Though his tone remains unchanged, his expression is closed and guarded, clearly stating that he will not speak on the matter.
"Very well," Dr. Whistler answers, her experience from treating patients like Killer Croc telling her that she has nothing to gain from pressing the matter. "Is there anything you wish to discuss?"
"There is, actually," Edward answers, his expression smoothing and turning to its usual unreadable blankness.
"What is it?"
"Dr. Cassidy. You said she took leave for personal reasons. When last I spoke with her, I'd warned her about Zsasz and now she's gone," Edward says, watching the older doctor's expression closely.
"What is your point?" Dr. Whistler asks guardedly, her expression showing she's clearly suspicious.
"No real point, Doctor," Edward answers, his internal suspicions confirmed. "If you could, I'd like you to relay a message to her."
Dr. Whistler remains suspicious, but this change in personality is surprising. It's literally the first time Edward has actually expressed interest in someone or something. Deciding to see where this new tack leads, she responds, "I can't guarantee anything, but I'll try."
"And that's all I can hope for," Edward says. "Tell her, that I hope she's well and remains safe. Also, tell her that I look forward to our next session here at Arkham."
"I see," Dr. Whistler says, still suspicious but not feeling as if Edward means any harm. "I'll relay the message. However, our time is up."
Edward acquiesces as the guards help him out of his chair. Once he's clear of the therapy room, he makes his move. Slamming his shoulder into the jaw of his escort, he follows his attack up with a headbutt to the nose and a knee to the solar plexus. Kneeling down, he manages to find the key to his shackles and he's loose. Not wasting any time, he bolts from the medical facility, steals a boat, and speeds away from Arkham with one focus in mind: Keep Sarah Cassidy alive and to hell with the consequences.
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Post by CAPT Issac R. Madden on Aug 10, 2015 2:41:45 GMT 1
“Taped patient interview number ten. Subject is Edward Kelley. This is his first session since he was returned to the Asylum after his escape three weeks ago. As a precaution, both Dr. Cassisdy and I will be conducting the interview,” Dr. Whistler says into the recorder, her attention turning to her nervous colleague before calling out the door. “We’re ready for him, Cash.”
“You got it doc,” Aaron Cash, a tall, muscular guard of African descent and a hook where his left hand once existed says as he steps into the room for a moment.
“Are you sure you wish to do this, Sarah?” Dr. Whistler asks, concerned for her friend and colleague’s well-being. “So soon after such a harrowing experience?”
“I’ll be fine,” the red-haired Dr. Cassidy says a bit too quickly. “I have to do this.”
“If it gets to be too much...”
“I’ll let you know,” Dr. Cassidy finishes as the door opens and Cash escorts the infamous serial killer known by the press as “Wraith” into the room. Unlike previous sessions the scruffy-looking young man is fully restrained, preventing him from being able to attack the guards again.
“Good evening, doctors,” the emotionless killer says in his trademark tone of voice, his facial expression and body language equally cool and collected.
“You don’t seem surprised to see both of us, Edward,” Dr. Whistler says.
“Considering recent events, I’m not at all surprised,” Edward answers. “Shall we go directly to the point?”
A silence falls over the trio, stretching into uncomfortable territory before Dr. Cassidy asks the question that’s been plaguing her mind. “Edward… why did you do it? Zsasz will require extensive reconstructive surgery in order to regain full function of his limbs.”
“Feeling pity, doctor? Pity for one who would have tortured you to death and do so with glee?” Edward responds, his normally col tone taking the barest hint of an edge. “The amount of damage I did to him was necessary to keep him from attacking again. Or perhaps you’d have preferred if I killed him? After all, I’ve got the blood of over thirty men and women on my hands. What’s one more?”
“But that kind of violence-“
“Was for a reason, Doctor,” Edward interrupts, his tone slightly more direct than either doctor had heard before. “I broke out of the Asylum, evaded the GCPD and Batman, beat Zsasz to within an inch of his life, and then surrendered to the Bat when my task was done. That reason Doctor, was to keep you alive.”
Edward’s statement takes both doctors and the guard by almost complete surprise. “And why would you do all that to protect her?” Dr. Whistler asks, being the first to recover from the bombshell.
The young man ponders the question for a moment before answer. ”Being unable to feel emotion doesn’t imply being blind to them in others, Doctor Whistler. I’ve noticed that Dr. Cassidy truly cares and wants to cure her patients, or at least treat them enough so they can function in society. She didn’t deserve to die; especially at the Zsasz’s hands and not while I could stop it.”
“I see,” the older psychologist says, taking down several notes, while her red-haired colleague looks stunned at Edward’s admission. “And the reason you didn’t kill Victor? You clearly don’t see to have a problem with doing so if needed.”
“Simple. Dr. Cassidy had been through enough that night. I didn’t want to add to the baggage,” Edward answers, his voice remaining cool and precise.
Wordlessly, Dr. Whistler writes down a few more notes while Dr. Cassidy remains speechless from Edward’s admissions. Finally, the red-head manages to regain most of her composure. “Thank you, Edward,” she says softly, not knowing exactly what to make of a cold-hearted killer who protected her solely because she truly wanted to make a difference for her patients.
“Hey doc! Time’s up!” a guard calls from the hallway.
“We’re finishing up now,” Dr. Whistler replies before addressing Edward again. “I can’t speak for all the staff, but I thank you as well. I truly hope we can help you so you no longer have to be confined here.”
Nodding his agreement wordlessly, Edward is taken from the interview room by Cash and escorted back to his cell in solitary confinement. Once the arm and leg irons are removed, Edward lays on his cot, his mind drifting back to the events of that night.
Edward had been staking out Dr. Cassidy’s apartment, wary of running afoul either a cop or a Bat. Some days, he’d watch from the fire escapes. Other times, he watched from the street. Rarely would he find himself on a rooftop as that’s Bat Territory and doing rooftop surveillance without proper equipment is just begging to get splattered on a sidewalk. A week into his vigil, his suspicions were realized: Zsasz had broken out and was making a bee-line for Dr. Cassidy.
Edward almost didn’t make it in time, managing to creep up on the crazed knife-wielding psychopath in front of Dr. Cassidy’s door before slamming his foot into Zsasz’s back. The impact from the blow sent the would-be killer crashing through the door to Dr. Cassidy’s apartment with Edward hot on Zsasz’s tail.
“What’s this?” the psychopath said as he rose to his feet, signature knives in hand. “Someone trying to play hero like he’s a Bat? No matter. I’ll give you both my gift. Your marks will be the most glorious to date!”
Wordlessly, Edward motioned for Zsasz to attack him. The psychopath, unaware of his opponent’s fighting ability, obliges and swung the knife in his right hand toward Edward’s stomach, looking to disembowel the emotionless killer. Zsasz’s relative lack of skill, his underestimation of Edward’s abilities, and his bloodlust all combined to cause the knife-wielder to over-extend his attack.
Edward’s response was as efficient as it was brutal: avoiding the arc of the blade, Edward grabed Zsasz by the wrist, pulled him off balance, and delivered a palm-heel strike to Zsasz’s exposed elbow. A shift in the grip on the now-ruined arm and Edward pulled the shoulder out of its socket while his heel smashed into the side of Zsasz’s right knee, causing muscle and tissues to tear and bones to crack. Howling in pain, Zsasz tried to swing with his un-broken arm but the damage he’d already taken dramatically slowed him down and Edward parried the blow while slamming his stiffened fingers into a nerve cluster in the armpit, rendering the arm useless as it fell numb. To prevent Zsasz from using the arm later, Edward quickly grabbed the forearm, straightened the elbow, and delivered a stomping kick that all but completely destroyed the joint.
With his enemy writhing in pain on the apartment floor, Edward made ready to finish the job, when he saw Dr. Cassidy starting at him in unbridled terror. Deciding that he’d done enough to Zsasz, Edward delivered a sharp toe kick to the scar-covered psychopath’s temple, rendering him unconscious.
Just after he knocked Zsasz out, Edward saw a flicker of shadow just outside the window and he wordlessly laid face-down on the floor, arms and legs spread-eagled with his palms facing the ceiling, and his eyes looking away from the window. Within seconds, he heared the tell tail flutter of a Kevlar weave cape before feeling a heavy, armored weight on his back as Gotham’s Dark Knight bound the emotionless young man’s hands with a link of flexible cable and hauls him to his feet.
Edward didn’t resist as Batman dragged him to the Batmobile and unceremoniously tossed him inside. The Dark Knight returned to the apartment, presumably to check on Dr. Cassidy just as sirens started to echo down the shadow-filled streets. Moments later Batman returned to his legendary car and sped along the streets of Gotham, returning his quarry to the care of Arkham Asylum.
Returning his thoughts to the present, Edward realizes that night, like so many others in his life, has changed him, given him purpose. Now the question is… what exact purpose will he have and how will he pursue it?
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