Okay. I've got the conclusion here, so you can drop your torches and pitchforks.
Part Six
Beth, Alex, Bert, and Ernie returned to the hotel, knowing that night would be the last one they would spend there. They had only paid to spend three nights there. But due to unfortunate circumstances, checkout time would have to come early. It was a shame to leave that place, especially since they haven’t gotten a chance to admire its polished interior. It had to be the only place in Gotham that wasn’t broken down or desecrated. Compared to the Furry Arms Hotel on Sesame Street, this place was
over four stars.
Being the gentleman he had proven himself to be over the course of the evening, Harvey escorted the group into the enormous lobby area. It reminded Beth of the ballroom from
Beauty and the Beast, only it included a front desk and a long line of customers making or confirming reservations.
They were almost near the elevators when a familiar voice suddenly called out to them. “Hey, guys!” They turned and caught the unmistakable figure that was Gordon Robinson, accompanied by Maria and Luis Rodriguez, Cookie Monster, Telly Monster, Rosita, and Big Bird. To see them all there in Gotham City was without a doubt a huge surprise, because this city was the last place they expected them to be.
“What the heck are you guys doing here?” Beth asked, trying not to sound ungrateful over their sudden appearance.
“We came to help find Sean.” Big Bird giddily said.
“Have you found him yet?” Luis asked.
Beth looked to the others, and they all shook their heads in reply. Then Alex added, “But Beth did get a call from him earlier.”
“That’s good.” Maria said.
“What did he say?” Gordon inquired.
“We don’t know.” Alex said, before getting in close behind her sister and talking over her shoulder. “Because
somebody refuses to tell us!”
Beth spun around and almost glared into her eyes as she said, “I can’t tell you what he said, because I don’t know what he was saying. He’s gone crazy, okay? He’s not making sense anymore. This city…it’s changed him. He’s not the same man we once knew.”
To hear Beth say that was a bit of a shock to everyone there. Gordon, Maria, Luis, Telly, Rosita, Cookie, and Big Bird had only been in Gotham for a few hours and were aware of what kind of dark and dreary place it was. Even the most humbled person could be heavily influenced by its nature, if spent a certain amount of years there. Out of them all, Telly was the only one who was showing minor signs of depression.
“What about Larissa, Teressa, Bob, and Linda?” Maria asked. “They came here long before any of us had. Did they have any luck?”
“We haven’t heard from them since we came.” Bert said. “You think they could be in trouble, too?”
Gordon sighed heavily. “Well, hopefully not, because then Margie and Elmo would’ve gone out to the Narrows for noth—”
“The Narrows?” Harvey suddenly interjected. “You mean you allowed two of your friends to go out into the darkest and—as of right now—most dangerous section of Gotham City?”
Gordon and the others were almost hesitant to answer. And if it was not for the sudden shouting that they all heard from the other side of the lobby, they would’ve had to have given a direct response. When they looked in that direction, they spotted three of the hotel’s security guards roughly escorting a homeless man who had somehow snuck into the building unnoticed. It seemed like this hadn’t been the first time it had happened, as one of the guards made it clear when he asked, “Why do ya keep doin’ this, man? We look like some halfway house or somethin’?”
As the guards were pushing the homeless stranger pass the front doors, Ernie aimed his camera towards him and—through the viewfinder—he zoomed in on the man’s face, trying to see who it might be. It worked before when they spotted Sean Thomas at Gotham City Hall. But doing so proved difficult nonetheless, because once Ernie got a good look at the face, he didn’t recognize it.
Seeing what he was doing, Bert curiously asked, “Who is it, Ernie?”
“I’m not sure, Bert.” Ernie replied. “He just looks like one of those gangsters from those old classic movies we watch every Saturday night. He even had a match in his teeth like they have.”
Bert shook his head negatively. “Ernie, you and your gangster movies.”
Meanwhile, Beth focused back on the subject they were on before the interruption. “Why are the Narrows so dangerous, Harvey?” She asked.
“A few years ago, it was the sight of a massive riot, as inmates from Arkham Asylum were released and under the influence of some drug created by Jonathan Crane.” Dent explained. “It’s a long story that can wait to be told another time. Right now, I have to make a few calls and try to get your friends out of there. That area is under heavy investigation by the local authorities as it is.”
Dent was about to depart from the group, until Beth reached up and grabbed his hand, holding him back. “Let us help you out, Harvey. They’re our friends, too.”
“No, Beth. The safest place for you and everyone else to be right now is here in the hotel.” Dent said. “I wouldn’t even try to leave the city either. With this Joker character and his connections, it’s possible you and your friends could be hit at anyplace here in Gotham.”
So much for doing what Sean told me to do, Beth thought as she let go of Harvey and allowed him to walk out of the hotel.
“I really hope they’re alright.” Big Bird said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The last thing Margie Thomas could remember before blacking out was the taxicab driver that brought her and Elmo over to the Narrows telling them to be careful in a neighborhood like that, because there were a lot of “weirdoes” hanging about. Soon after she got out, that was when she felt something come fast and hard against the side of her head. Now, as she opened her blue eyes (colored contact lenses that hid their true color: dark brown), she found herself in a dimly lit room with four corners and turquoise-colored walls.
She was lying down on a bed that was rusty, worn-out, and had foul smells coming out from it. If she had not known any better, she would’ve thought that the bad smells were what woke her up. On one hand, it was. But on the other, there was also the intense pain that she felt on the side of her head. She reached up to touch the area that was throbbing and felt a cold, wet sensation. When she brought her hand in front of her face, it was covered with blood…
her blood.
“Looky there, Elmo!” An overly happy voice (with what sounded like a thick Boston accent) exclaimed. “Our friend Margie just woke up!”
“Yay! Margie’s awake! Now Elmo and Miss Harley Quinn can play!” She heard the small, sweet voice of Elmo say.
Slowly she sat up on the foul-smelling bed and looked towards her left. At first Margie thought she was dreaming. But as her sight came into focus, she realized it was no dream.
There was an actual harlequin jester standing in the middle of the room, clad in the traditional red-and-black checkered clothes and white-and-black face makeup. Sitting on the bed across from hers was Elmo, who looked really happy despite the fact that they were in such an unsettling atmosphere that appeared to be an asylum to Margie.
The harlequin walked up to Margie and mocked sadness, as she touched the side of her head gently and said, “Aww! Looks like poor Margie’s got a boo-boo, Elmo.”
“Oh, no.” Elmo said in genuine sadness. “W-Well…what do Elmo and Miss Harley Quinn do to help Margie?”
The harlequin’s hand went to her chin, as a ponderous expression appeared on her face. “I know, Elmo! We can operate!”
Elmo slightly appeared scared. He gulped and said, “O-O-Operate?”
“Oh, don’t worry yerself, Elmo.” The harlequin said, gently patting the little red monster on the head. “Dere’s a lot of great doctahs here. We’ll patch Margie up and she’ll be all beddah ta play.”
Elmo looked over at Margie with great concern. She wanted to say something to him. Tell him to run and get help. Because somehow this situation didn’t seem right, and they needed to get out right away. But because her mind hadn’t completely processed what was happening that moment, she couldn’t say much except: “What’s going on?”
The harlequin smiled at Margie, while she tiptoed her way towards the large metal door behind her and knocked on it. Almost immediately, it opened to allow two men in black suits and ties, wearing stained clown masks, to come into the room and walk towards a slightly nervous Elmo.
“Boys, show Elmo around da place, while I help make Margie all beddah.” The harlequin ordered them, shortly after she tickled Elmo’s chin, making him giggle a little. “Now ya be a good boy, Elmo. And ya just might get yerself a nice widdle treat.”
Elmo nodded. “Okay, Miss Harley Quinn.”
Margie watched, trying her best to get past the throbbing pain in the side of her head, as the two clowns escorted Elmo out of the room, leaving just her and the harlequin alone. As soon after the metal door had closed, the harlequin took off her hat, revealing the short blonde hair she had underneath, and turned to Margie with a smile.
“Hello, Miss Thomas.” She said, dropping the thick Boston accent and sounding more formal and straightforward. “First, let me apologize for the cut on your head. I assure that’ll be fixed momentarily.”
Margie tried getting up from the bed, but even standing seemed like a bad idea at the moment, because she got real dizzy just after ten seconds. She instantly fell back down on the bed, with clouds of dust flying up everywhere, showing exactly how old it was. And the foul smell seemed to have come up even more—combined with Margie’s nausea, it almost drove her to throwing up.
“Yeah, now’s probably not the best time to stand up. Guess I should’ve mentioned that before you tried it.” The harlequin said. “Before you possibly start to lose consciousness again, I should introduce myself. My name is Dr. Harleen Quinzel. I’m a psychiatrist here at Arkham Asylum.”
Margie didn’t care whatsoever. All that really mattered to her at that moment was, “Why did you bring me here?”
“Because you’ve simply come to the wrong place at the wrong time, Miss Thomas.” Quinzel said. “You, your family, and your friends have been meddling into our affairs as of late, and we simply can’t have that.”
It was at that point that Margie knew she was not getting out of there alive. She swallowed hard and boldly stated, “If you harm Elmo, I promise I’ll…”
“Threats won’t spare the little fella’s life, Miss Thomas.” Quinzel remarked. “But if you’re worried that we will, then you have nothing to worry about. He’s a good kid…someone who really supports what we’re trying to bring back to Gotham City.”
“And what’s that? Insanity?” Margie said with a grin. “I’ve only been in this city a few times before, and all I’ve seen are people your type who think killing and stealing are the only two ways to live. That’s the type of crap that killed my sister.”
Quinzel sat down on the bed across from Margie’s, suddenly going into psychiatrist mode. “Why show emotion towards a person who you’re barely even related to, Margie?”
“Oh…what? Are we on a first name basis now?”
“Just trying to loosen up the atmosphere.”
“Well, if you want to do that, then you’d let me and my friend leave.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that just yet. I need to know what’s troubling you, Margie. Why you haven’t shown a
real smile in quite some time?”
Margie sighed deeply. “This has got to be the most sadistic form of therapy I’ve ever seen performed.”
“It’s not just because your sister was killed. It’s something much more.”
“If you want me to take you any seriously, you’re gonna have to ditch the harlequin outfit.” She made a face over the attire as she glanced at it. “Why the h*ll are you wearing that thing anyway?”
Quinzel chuckled. “Before I came to Arkham, I treated mentally challenged patients at another institution. Tried a method to tap into their childlike thoughts and reach to them in a way no other psychiatrist had. Over fifty percent of patients at that institution found my harlequin persona lovable and a soothing approach to their troubled minds. They left reformed with big happy smiles on their faces. And ever since then, it has worked with other patients, from young children to even the criminally insane—believe it or not.”
“And you call this so-called persona ‘Harley Quinn’?”
“No. Actually it was Elmo who came up with the name. He confused the word ‘harlequin’ with the actual name ‘Harley Quinn’. So I thought that’d be a good name to give it.”
Margie grinned. “He is a creative little dude.”
“Yes.” Quinzel seemed lost in thought momentarily before refocusing on the subject they were on. “But enough about him, let’s talk more about you and
your problem.”
“Listen, Dr. Quinzel. The only problem I have right now is being locked up in this room with you. It smells like sweat, blood, and urine in here. And if I spend another minute in it, I feel like I’m gonna hurl chunks.”
Quinzel looked long and hard at her for a while and then nodded. “Alright, Miss Thomas. We’ll step out of here. I think it’s time you saw my newest form of treatment anyways.”
Margie took a gamble addressing her like that, because as far as she was concerned, Quinzel was running the show. But she really could not stand being in there with the smell and needed to get out. If she was going to die, then she’d rather die in a more decent environment.
As the two women headed out of the room, Harleen produced a wheelchair from one corner of the room for Margie to sit into, in order to avoid having another dizzy spell like the one she had a moment ago. Margie wanted to reject it and admit that she was starting to feel better. But even as she climbed into the wheelchair, she still felt dizzy standing up. She didn’t know how long these spells would last, but she hoped they would go away soon enough for her to figure out some way to get out of there alive with Elmo.
Quinzel pushed Margie and the chair into the hallway outside, which seemed just as unsanitary as the room they were just in. The smell was a thousand times worse than before, and Margie did her best not to complain, as she was being wheeled down the dark hall.
Not a word was said between the two as they slowly went down the hall. It made the situation just as more awkward. Yet Margie had nothing more to say to Dr. Quinzel. This was a woman who she, only moments ago, saw in a harlequin jester costume and talking in a thick Boston accent. And now she was pushing her around in a wheelchair, talking of showing her some special new treatment for mental patients. What exactly was she supposed to say to something like that?
It wasn’t long before the two came to a stop near the same rusty steel door that Quinzel brought Larissa to. Quinzel put the brakes on Margie’s wheelchair, putting enough distance between her and the door in order to allow room to open the door. Before she had done so, she turned to Margie and smiled.
“I ask you again, Miss Thomas,” She said, “Why do you care about people who you don’t share the same blood with? Shouldn’t you be concerned with someone who you do? Like your biological brother, Sean?”
Margie glared at her at the mentioning of his name. It was pretty much the reason why she and Elmo were there in that dangerous neighborhood in the first place: To look for him. She had been worried sick about him for years. Every day he used to come to her antique shop, just across the street from Hooper’s Store, and they would engage in discussions that would last for hours.
The two were pretty much all each other had after their parents died in a fatal plane crash when they were very young. They had to depend on one another during the eleven years they had spent in the Metropolis Orphanage, with no friends and no family. When they were adopted by the Thomas family, the two had a hard time to adjust with their new siblings: Alissa (“Lori”), Larissa, and Teressa. Out of the three, it was Lori who Sean had adjusted to the most. She reminded him so much of Margie that it was like having two real sisters. He enjoyed the company of Larissa and Teressa, but not as much as them.
It was why Sean took Lori’s death so heavily, and it was why he could never interact with his biological sister the way they had before then. But Margie needed him back home, no matter how much in despair he was. She was aware of how much of a dangerous place Gotham was and how it could influence the purest soul. It had tainted hers only faintly during frequent visits. And she could only guess how much it had done to Sean’s during the extended amount of time he had spent there.
Margie was so lost in thought that she almost forgot that Quinzel had asked her a question. Her only reply: “Just show me what you’ve got to show me, so you can kill me already.”
Again Harleen smiled. “Death is inevitable, Miss Thomas. Then again…so is rebirth.”
Her statement puzzled Margie, as she watched her open the rusty steel door and revealed the room inside to her. And the first thing that Margie had seen stunned her. Sitting in a chair that was situated in the center of the room was Larissa Thomas—her adopted sister—her hands and feet restrained and her head shaven completely bald with electrodes stuck to all parts of it. These electrodes were connected to a machine that sat nearby her.
As Larissa sat in that chair, she was partially conscious. Her head was slumped over her left shoulder, and her mouth was wide open, allowing large quantities of her saliva to drool out over her clothes. There were bags under her eyes and her complexion was ghostly pale. To the common observer, she appeared half dead.
The sight had almost sickened Margie, and she couldn’t help but to look away as she asked Quinzel, “What in God’s name have you done to her?”
“This is just the first part of my treatment, Miss Thomas.” Quinzel answered. “First I numb the brain…render it into a state where the subconscious takes over. Larissa’s mind has been this way for approximately two and a half hours now. In another half hour, her mind will ‘reactivate’ and she will enter an amnesiac stage. Three hours later, she will lose all touch with reality, entering a dream state. After that, the real test begins. Depending on how she accepts her new perception, she could either become the happiest woman in the world…or she could become the most suicidal one ever.”
Margie felt like leaping out of the wheelchair and strangling Quinzel to death. But in her weakened state, all she could’ve done was hurl insults. “You sick tramp!” she exclaimed.
“Calm down, Margie.” Quinzel said. “I haven’t told you the best part yet.” She then walked into the room and went around Larissa, going over to the workbench with all of the bloody surgical utensils. She picked a bloodstained scalpel up and hovered it over Larissa’s shaven head, looking worse than Norman Bates out of
Psycho as she had done so. “While the brain’s numb, I slice through the scalp, cut open the skull, and remove a lobe for study.”
Margie’s eyes went to the labeled bottles sitting on the old shelves in the room, which had the pink liquid and brain lobes in them. It wasn’t for study. It was a trophy case. All representing patients who fell victim to Quinzel’s twisted treatment. And soon Larissa was about to become another.
“If you think…you’re going to get away with this…you’re wrong.” Margie said, while trying to avoid the urge of throwing up. “They’ll find a way to track you and your twisted acts of torture down.”
Quinzel laughed hysterically. “Torture? This
isn’t torture, Miss Thomas! It’s medical science! A form that will open many doors in the future! Once this gets out to the world, doctors everywhere will call it ‘the ultimate cure’!”
“They’ll call it
insane!” Margie retorted.
“You’re only saying that ‘cause you still don’t believe.” Quinzel said. “But I promise you…I promise that after you experience it, Margie…you’ll
never forget.”
Margie watched as she began removing the electrodes from Larissa’s bald scalp, giving her plenty of space to work with. She then brought the scalpel a few inches above her left eyebrow. Just as Quinzel was about to cut into Larissa’s skin, something flew fast and hard into the room, striking Quinzel’s hand and causing her to drop the scalpel to the floor.
Her first intentions were that Margie was responsible. But once she looked in her direction and realized that there was nothing around her to throw, it dawned on her that something (or someone) else was the cause of it. Looking down towards the floor, she glanced at the object that struck her. Her eyes widened and her mouth gaped open as she noticed it was a simple bat-shaped shuriken…
his shuriken…the Batman’s.
Harleen directed her eyes back towards the doorway, and standing right in front of a shocked Margie was the dark figure of Gotham’s protector and knight, Batman. An overwhelming sensation of awe and fear came over Quinzel, as the Batman strode into the room. However, he wasn’t alone at that time. Linda, Bob, Teressa, and Elmo were accompanying him. While Linda, Bob, and Elmo stood by Margie and helped her out of the wheelchair, Teressa followed Batman as he came towards Harleen Quinzel.
“Consider your medical license revoked tonight, Doctor!” Batman told her.
Harleen looked at Batman for a brief moment and then towards a furious Teressa, who glared directly into her eyes. What was more intimidating than the sight of Batman himself were the feelings this woman had towards her. And the fact that her sister’s barely conscious body was sitting (literally) in the middle of it all didn’t quite help out that much either.
They stared at each other for what felt like forever, until…
SLAM! The intense fist of Teressa Thomas came fast and hard enough at Quinzel’s jaw that the impact sent her directly into unconsciousness. Her body fell hard against the floor—any harder and she would’ve broken something…not that Teressa cared if she did.
As soon after Quinzel had been taken care of, Teressa turned her attention to her barely conscious sister, removing the restraints from her arms and legs. She set her slumped head up straight, although her mouth remained open. Several times she called out her name, yet there was no response. Tears came down her eyes, as her worst fear had been confirmed. Her sister had died and there was nothing she could do.
But then Batman approached her and contradicted her thoughts by saying, “She’s still alive. If we bring her back to my home, there’s still a chance we could save her.”
Teressa didn’t once look away from her sister as she listened to what Batman was telling her. The best thing she could do at that point was trust in the dark knight, because it was all that she could’ve done for the sake of her sister’s life. But Batman’s assurance didn’t stop the tears. She still wept, fearing that they still might’ve been too late.
Letting Teressa have a brief moment alone, Batman turned his attention to Margie, who had Bob and Linda help stand her up. He noticed how she had looked down to the familiar little red monster that he saved a moment ago from Quinzel’s two clowns. “Are you okay, Elmo?” She asked.
“Elmo’s okay, Margie.” He said. “Those clowns were real nice to Elmo. But the Batman helped put them to sleep, because they were
real tired.”
Margie couldn’t be any more thankful for Elmo’s great imagination. What was happening around him was too intense for his pure mind to handle. If he had known the hard truth, it would have frightened him dearly.
Thank goodness for small favors, she thought.
Right then, the Batman approached her and said, “I’m taking a risk in bringing you all with me, because I am your only hope for making it out of the narrows safely. When you arrive at my home, a lot will be revealed to you about me. You will even discover something that Sean Thomas knew from the moment we first met here in Gotham.”
“And what would that be?” Margie asked.
He stared at her for a long time, and then he slowly reached up and removed his cowl—the only thing that concealed his true identity of famous billionaire Bruce Wayne. To see his face in person was one thing. But to find out that it was hidden behind that cowl the whole time was another to everyone in that room. Even Teressa had to stop crying long enough to see the truth unfolded before their very eyes.
“And trust me…this is only the beginning.” Bruce said.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some part of Harleen Quinzel wished that everything that’d occurred in recent hours were just a dream. Everything from seeing the Batman to even bringing Margie Thomas into the room. Yet that other part of her hoped that it wasn’t, as she thought about her near successful test on Larissa.
It seemed that part of her that wished it wasn’t got exactly what it deserved, as she woke up in the same room with an aching jaw. When she tried to move it to see if it had been broken or not, she quickly found that she couldn’t move it at all. At first she believed that it just might’ve been broken. But then the sudden smell of rubber reached her nostrils, and she looked down to see that her whole mouth had been taped up.
And what seemed even more bizarre was that she couldn’t move her entire body. Looking down even further, she realized that she had been strapped to the chair, instead of lying down on the floor. She felt the electrodes suctioned to all sides of her forehead, meaning
she was now the one connected to the machine.
I must give the Batman credit…he’s just as insane as they come, she thought. She tried to smile, but her lips were so stuck that the tape on her mouth refrained her from doing so.
She wondered for a moment why the Batman would strap her to the chair, connect her to the machine, and not stick around to get revenge on turning the detective’s brain into paste. It seemed pointless to let her just sit there in that dimly lit room, all alone.
At least…she thought she was alone.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from behind her. Perhaps the Batman took it upon himself to stay and get the job done, torturing her into telling him all that she knew. Not that she would tell him anything, because when it boiled down to it, the Batman didn’t have the courage to do what she did to Larissa.
Unfortunately, it was not the Batman who was in the room with her. It was Detective Sean Thomas—not that much of a difference. However, he looked far different from when Harleen last saw him. From the small bruise he had on the left side of his face and the way he was clutching his side, he looked like he had been to h*ll and back in only one night.
Studying his face, she knew…she knew that
he knew. There was no sense in strapping her to the chair and connecting her to the machine in order to get some information out of her. That much was certain from the tape that kept her mouth shut. He already had the information he wanted.
So it is about revenge, she thought while watching him circle around her many times, limping as he had done so.
This is his way of getting back at me for what I did to his sister. Still…he’s no Batman. So why should I be worried?
She waited a long time for him to say something…do something…do anything other than circle around her like that. And then…he stopped…right near the machine. He stood in that exact spot for a much longer amount of time and then said in a dark tone, “I’ll give my condolences to your boyfriend…after I
kill him.”
Shortly after that, Quinzel felt an intense pain course through her brain. Her body went tense, and she clenched her fists to the point that her fingers dug deep enough to draw blood from them. Through the tape covering her mouth, she let out strong scream. The tape muffled it, keeping anything within a ten-mile radius from hearing it. Had the tape been removed from her mouth, it would’ve ruined the common person’s hearing.
On the machine, the small black needle on the indicator pointed to 100, directly within the “Danger” limit. Not even Harleen Quinzel had let it go that high on all her other patients, including Larissa Thomas. It was a setting that she had never experiment on before, because it required too much of the building’s power to put through.
Sean just watched as Quinzel’s body twitched violently, while the light inside the room flickered repeatedly until it died and left everything pitch black. The only available light source came from outside in the hall, which was where Sean headed as Harleen continued to let out her muffled screams. He took one look behind him and grinned.
“Nighty night, Doctor.” It was the last thing he told her before walking away, passing through several areas in the building with lights that flickered on and off until they left everything dark.
It was just how the way Sean liked it to be: dark.
SESAME SEEDS
Welcome to the Muppet Central Forum!
Jim Henson Idea Man
Back to the Rock Season 2
Bear arrives on Disney+
Sam and Friends Book
