Chapter 13
Ruin a Good Day
An important meeting. On the ninth floor. In an open but exclusive space, Vergil, Riddler, and Deathstroke sit around an exquisite, marble table and discuss their plans.
“Nigma,” Vergil addresses, "how much more time do you need to complete your maze?”
“All I need is the Fear Toxin. Apart from that, it’s ready to go.”
The Demon King gives him a look of approval.
“Good, that’s Part Two.”
“Part Two?!” Riddler grunts. “I hope you mean that sequentially and not by merit.”
“I do. Part One is between me and Frisky Frances.”
“Yuck. Spare us the details, Your Majesty. Call me old fashioned but I’m a man of reserve.”
“You’re a man who doesn’t understand his enemies,” Deathstroke huffs.
“I understand that they’re simpletons. My new diagram is superb. My superior intellect gives me all the gratification I need.”
“That’s why you two will play such an essential part in capturing my brother. Your maze will throw him off and separate him from his beloved Killer-Red. Your sniping abilities will subdue him. Frisky Frances is mine now. We’re just gonna scare him a little bit first.”
“My maze is enough to capture him.”
“I appreciate your confidence but I need Deathstroke here to put him in a coma. Can your maze do that?”
“Put him in a coma? My maze can kill him if you want it to, Your Majesty.”
“No. I can’t harvest his blood if he’s dead.”
Deathstroke is annoyed.
“The Icarus Bomb will kill him, Vergil. That’s what I designed it to do. You want me to make adjustments, that’s going to cost you double.”
Vergil chuckles, “If it kills him, I’ll be impressed.”
“If he falls hard enough, he’ll die,” Deathstroke guarantees sternly.
Vergil rolls his eyes, “I’ve seen him get up after falling from much higher than nine stories.”
“After I shoot him, the fall will shred his wings. He’ll bleed out if he doesn’t immediately die on impact.”
“Brutish and uncreative,” Riddler pouts snootily.
“I like the way you think, Deathstroke,” Vergil compliments, but Deathstroke is hardly flattered.
“I really don’t give a shit. At what point do I destroy Killer-Red?”
“I was under the impression you could reform him for me. Griffon’s told me you’ve been watching him closely for a while now. I know you have a past with Red Hood.”
“Correct. In a perfect world, he would be my righthand man, my apprentice.”
“I respect that. I was wrong about him. His potential is worth preserving. Let’s avoid exterminating him.”
“I have no sentimental attachment to him. I’m prepared to destroy him too.”
“I’d rather you didn’t, Deathstroke. I like to repurpose my rebellious subjects. That being said, I do have one subject that I’ve been considering using as an experiment. I’d like to see how violent Killer-Red can truly be.”
“Immensely violent,” Deathstroke replies.
“Do you think he’d bite for the right Arkham Asylum prisoner?”
Once upon a time Deathstroke hid his mysterious expressions behind a mask. With a snarl of peculiarity, he’s not about to pretend he finds this conversation pleasant.
“Riddler here will be the first one to tell you, that Arkham Asylum isn’t an A-List of Battle Royale candidates. You wanna pit Killer-Red up against another prisoner? That’s dumb but who’d you have in mind?”
“Victor Zsasz. He has an obsession with Harleen Quinzel, the real Harleen Quinzel. He’s waiting for her at her apartment. He’s redecorated the living room with a single dining chair that faces a collage on the wall. He has photos of her, pieces of her clothing, her hair, personal documents from the asylum. I’d like to see if Killer-Red would take the bait to eradicate him for me.”
Deathstroke pries suspiciously.
“How did he obtain those things, Vergil?”
Vergil purses his lips. Riddler watches them engage in a staring contest. With a nervous gulp, he breaks the tension.
“Does it really matter how he obtained them?”
Maintaining a challenging glare, Deathstroke insults his superior.
“Your methods are sloppy, amateurish, and lazy, Your Highness.”
“I never asked you about my methods, Slade. Will Killer-Red bite or not?”
“Red Hood will happily erase Victor Zsasz from existence,” Deathstroke reluctantly confirms.
Vergil isn’t so sure, “Yes but Jason Todd isn’t Red Hood anymore. He’s Robin. Killer-Red’s powers are a mystery but the core of who he is, is Robin.”
Deathstroke reiterates, “Jason Todd, as Robin, as Red X, as Red Hood, as Killer-Red will absolutely take the bait. It’s all still Jason Todd.”
Riddler has an insightful theory, “My guess is that Killer-Red is the most violent one among all of Jason Todd’s alter egos. He’s a teenager with the hindsight we all wish we had, now that we’re adults. My teenaged self would have taken over the world if he knew what I know now. Wisdom is a special kind of intelligence.”
Deathstroke adds, “Combine that with his demonic powers, that Dante somehow bestowed upon him, he’s the most dangerous version of Jason Todd.”
Vergil grins, “Shall we place bets on how he might kill Zsasz?”
Riddler doesn’t see the point.
“Ha! There’s nothing to bet on. He’ll shoot him pointblank.”
“No no,” opposes Deathstroke, “he’ll want to give him a taste of his own medicine. He’ll slit his throat. That’s the serial killer’s signature move.”
“If my twin’s rubbed off on him as much as I think he has, I think he’ll do something more evil.”
“Such as?” Riddler snaps, irked that anyone would question his prediction.
“Such as pulling the guy’s appendages off. I’m betting on Killer-Red dismembering him.”
“We betting cash or what?” grunts Riddler.
“No no, keep your money, the two of you. I do my best to pay you well and I don’t want you throwing your hard earned cash away on Victor Zsasz. Whoever wins this bet gets to tell Killer-Red that Dante is dead.”
Deathstroke chuckles, “Heh, the winner of the bet gets to break the mustang."
That afternoon, Dante and Co. are on their way out for an evening of pilfering construction materials in abandoned areas of Limbo City. Harley and Killer-Red hold hands. Swinging their arms and skipping together in the Wood of Suicides, they sing…
“Over the river, and through the woods,
To steal some shit, we go!
Robin knows the way to mar and to slay,
Through harsh and frigid snow.
Over the river and through the woods,
To live another day.
Hey, demons, die. The king, fuck that guy!
Hooray for fun and gunplay!”
Ding.“Mandatory Message for Harleen Quinzel, from the Demon King.”
“Uh-oh!” cackles Harley as they stop so she can unzip her pockets. “Where are you, phone? Butt pocket? No, side pocket. Guess I have to listen to this message.”
“No you don’t,” Dante tells her.
“What about our song?” Killer-Red playfully whines, “We just sang, Hey, demons, die. The king, fuck that guy!”
“Yeah but we’re not gonna tell him that,” she whisper-giggles. “Okay, let’s see what he wants.”
Boo-beep! “Harleen, this message is to warn you not to return to your apartment. I’m requesting that Killer-Red travel to your residence instead.”
“Not happening,” huffs Dante.
“I’m requesting that he eradicate the individual that’s been occupying your home. If this request is met, I’ll disregard the punishment I have in store for Dante, for killing one of my guards a few weeks back. Perhaps you thought I overlooked it.”
Vergil’s brother scoffs, “What the hell makes him think Killer-Red would do anything for him?”
“I’m sure he’s asking, ‘What the hell makes the King think I would do anything for him?’ I’m certain Killer-Red will be compelled to learn that Victor Zsasz is hiding in your apartment. I was wrong about Killer-Red, he has a place in my regime. That place will remain flexible, if he can rid my kingdom of a criminal whom I believe is irredeemable.”
Bee-boop, “End of message.”
Harley eyeballs Killer-Red, her expression inquisitive.
“I’m lost right now,” Dante shrugs.
They both turn their attention to him, Harley looking like she knows Killer-Red’s already made his decision.
“Angel, I don’t care who’s tipping me off, I’ve wanted to kill Victor Zsasz for years. Being a prisoner in Arkham Asylum is the only thing that’s kept him away from me.”
“Wanna know why they put him in solitary confinement, puddin’?”
“Lemme guess, you took a swing at this Victor Zsasz guy.”
“More like he started a riot, trying to slit his throat with a broken plastic fork! I missed it cause I was in another wing with all the female inmates when it happened. But we all heard about it, and we saw them take him away. That’s when I waved to you, Jason.”
“Yup. I didn’t know he was interested in you, Harley. He was going on about one of the nurses that day and I flipped my lid. Literally, I flipped a table over. He wasn’t the only guy sitting there and that caused a little scuffle. I went for his throat but the guards tased me.”
“Jason,” Dante interjects, “Jason, I can’t let you do work for Vergil.”
“Don’t think of it that way,” suggests Killer-Red. “This guy’s a serial killer, his victims are all women. I don’t need Vergil’s blessing, just the tipoff.”
“Fuck!” Dante exclaims. “Harley, I’m so glad you didn’t go back to your place!”
He puts his arm around her protectively. So does Killer-Red.
“Awe, you two! Come on, ya gotta let Killer-Red have a go at Zsasz. It’s not about Vergil.”
“No, I get that now but I’m not letting him go alone.”
“Maybe you should. Keep Harley safe and in good spirits while I take care of it, ya know?”
“Jason, my buddy, you and I know you can handle Zsasz but don’t it feel swell to have an angel thinking aboutcha?”
“It feels heavenly. How about this. We’ll go to the apartment and you two will wait at the end of the block. I’ll go inside and if I need help, I’ll fire Revenant.”
Dante’s still lost, “You’re not gonna use Revenant to kill him?”
“No. No, I know what I want to do to him.”
“Her old apartment’s on the other side of town. It’s a haul, about three hours on foot.”
“That’s not very far at all. It’s early, angel.”
“It’ll be nighttime by the time we get there.”
“Good. The darker, the better. I’m gonna make an ugly mess.”
“I can’t help but feel like Vergil’s trying to ruin a good day. You really wanna do this?”
“Yes!” Killer-Red and Harley reply in unison.
This uninvited change of plans sends them in another direction. Dante sighs.
“Aaaaand down the shitter we go.”
“And down the shitter we go!” the Gothamites sing-
Harley, “Straight to Hell!”
Killer-Red, “Feeling swell!”
Harley forgets the melody, “Whose fleece was white a snoOOOH!”
Three hours of anticipation goes by jarringly, with excessive conversation about the evils tied to Killer-Red’s target. Tragic stories about Zsasz's victims, talk about his obsession with tallying each woman he’s murdered onto his skin, all the times Batman spared him when he could have ended such needless violence.
It’s a lot of hype, but is it worth it?
When they arrive, before the hunt, Dante forewarns the Gothamites.
“Killer-Red, Vergil’s trying to shame you into behaving like a killing machine. And Harley, he’s trying to scare you into running to him for safety. I get it, this guy is lower than scum but it’s not too late to turn around and head back home, where you guys were singing and laughing and enjoying yourselves.”
His words fall on deaf ears. Killer-Red’s spotted Zsasz in the apartment window!
“There you are, you sick piece of shit.”
He races in for the kill!
“GET HIM!” Harley hollers. “Show ‘em who’s boss, Killer-Red!”
“This is not gonna go well,” Dante exhales, unheard once more.
A tornado of adrenaline turns things upside-down within seconds!
Killer-Red kicks in the door. Zsasz is startled from his dining chair and leaps to his feet.
“Have a head start, Victor!” Killer-Red shouts, letting him hurry out the door. He then chases him outside, and FLING! He pins him to a brick wall in an alleyway with a thick red X. When he approaches Zsasz, up close, the fellow murderer goes from flabbergasted to titillated.
“Red Hood, is that you? Why, you’re so fragile, like a child. It’s beautiful, your brokenness. I can see it, I can see that Hell’s reduced you to your purest form.”
“Oh shut the hell up, man. You’re about to be dead, wipe that stupid smile off your face."
“Are you sure about that, are you sure I’m the one whose about to die?”
“I’m sure I’m gonna rip you apart in the worst way.”
“I think you’d rather make your own pain stop. I can see in your eyes, you’ve thought about ending yourself. You and I know there is only pain. I would have liberated Ms. Quinzel of her pain, had you let me. I’ll even liberate you, if you set me free.”
“I’m gonna rip off your dick and make you choke on it!”
“You’ve put some thought into this. Please, by all means, do it.”
He hesitates. The buildings seem to be swaying, the ground seems to be rumbling, the world around Killer-Red feels unstable. Limbo City is trembling.
Consumed by corruption, the atmosphere seems to long for him to give in to his violent intentions. But now that the time has come, he’s having second thoughts.
“I dunno if I can now.”
“Getting cold feet? Hell has offered you the freedom to hunt at will. Look at you! I've become prey in my own trap! All that remains is the final stroke.”
Dante, who went into the apartment to see the horrors for himself, knows this trip was a mistake.
“We would have been better off traveling three hours to gaze at a turd in the road. Killer-Red and Harley were happy and now Vergil’s got them all worked up. Same shit he pulled on me. We’re done here.”
He sprints to Killer-Red, calling out, “Jason, don’t mutilate him! You’ll regret it!”
“Regret?” Zsasz, erupts into a chilling chuckle "Fascinating! He inspires you, yet your muse fails to understand. You were born to be far more than a mere killer, you need a signature, something to show the onlookers, something to be remembered by. Make it stark! Make it shocking! Make your signature a spark that ignites into a roaring, glorious flame! What a tragedy that I won't be there to see it.”
“Shoot him in the head, Killer-Red, and let’s go home.”
Killer-Red unholsters Revenant.
“No, no, no that won't do at all, muse,” Zsasz dismisses, his eyes shimmering as he strives to seduce Killer-Red. “You’d rather use that gun on yourself.”
“Shoot him or I will,” Dante warns.
Zsasz keeps egging him on, “Shooting me won't set you free. Don’t chicken out, embrace the predator inside you! Rip me up! Feed me my manhood! Show everyone how consumed you are by your own desire! If only I knew you were coming! I would have paved the way for you, made your muse my final tally!”
BANG, Killer-Red unloads Revenant into Zsasz's face, blasting the psycho’s cranium into a vermillion mist that sprays all over the wall.
He holsters his gun, turns to Dante, and holds him possessively. Dante squeezes him firmly.
“I knew coming here was a bad idea,” he tells his shaken friend.
“No it wasn’t, he needed to go.”
“Demons would have killed him eventually.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, shhh, no, don’t be sorry. It’s my fault. You didn’t need to be exposed to this guy again. It’s not your job to rid the world of all it’s evils, especially here in Hell.”
“I never thought I’d miss the police. Red Hood is supposed to get rid of guys like him.”
“And you did.”
“Killer-Red wanted to rip him apart. Is Killer-Red, am I… a monster?”
“No, my friend. You’re a hunter. This was a set up to fuck with your head.”
“I won’t fall for it again.”
He puts his hand on Killer-Red’s back and guides him to Harley, who's waiting under a lamppost on the sidewalk.
“That was fast. You don’t look like ya had much fun though.”
“I feel sick actually,” Killer-Red admits.
“Guys like Zsasz will do that to ya, sweetie. Don’t take it to heart.”
“Let’s get some food,” Dante suggests. “There’s an actual grocery store around the block.”
“Yeah!” Harley cheers, wanting to perk her friend back up. “It’s the reason I picked this part of town. It ain’t got much, mostly sweet stuff. But it’s all humans that work there.”
“They sell desserts?” asks Killer-Red.
“Well yeah, honey, sugar keeps ya going. They figured that out and that’s kinda their thing at that shop. Awe, I hate seeing ya so disappointed, Little Red Killing Hood. I feel bad, making ya go into my old apartment like that.”
“No Harley, it’s not on you,” Dante assures her. “I got a little cash, let’s forget about this crap and eat something.”
“Hey, I got an idea!” she gleams, “let’s get stuff for s’mores! Nothing like a campfire to warm up your tits.”