John Wick: Arkham Asylum by DeadAliveManiac

Latest update: January 13, 2024

Summary:The Dark Knight has fallen. Joker has threatened to kill hostages, including the Batman, should anyone be caught on Arkham Island. But Black Skull recruits John Wick to take him out so that he can keep the streets of Gotham City under his control. The exchange: complete immunity from the criminal world. No matter the body count, the clown prince of crime must die.

Link:https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13300890/1/

Word count:37k

Chapters:10

Chapter 1: An Offer You Can't Refuse

The slow, heavy thuds of footsteps echoed through his throbbing, dazed head. His breathing was labored, his mouth full of blood, and mask crumpled in, the left ear snapped off. The dark knight tried to push himself up, the pain of his broken ribs followed by the crash of a massive fist over the back of his skull, driving his face into the cement and shattering it like glass with a web-like pattern. Batman lie motionless, blood pooling around his battered skull. "I do not understand you, Murciélago," Bane began, pacing around the bat, "I have broken you, I could feel your spine shatter on my knee, and yet here you still are all these years later. I can't help but commend your efforts. You fight like a matador, with grace and precision, but the bull will eventually gore even the most skilled matador. It was only a matter of time, Batman. I won't make the same mistake of letting you walk away."

Bane thumped across the room, Batman's fingers flexing into the concrete as the dark knight ushered the last of his strength to roll onto his back, his right eye swollen shut, blood seeping from his nostrils, and teeth stained crimson. An thunderous crash caught Batman's attention as Bane ripped a boulder of concrete and rebar from the wall, stomping back to Batman with the rubble high overhead. "I'll see you in Hell, Batman." Bane said, readying to finish Batman as he braced himself for death.

"STOP!" a raspy voice screeched, much to Batman's relief and chagrin.

Bane turned to the voice, finding the clown prince of crime pointing an oversized revolver at him from the level above him. "What are you doing, payaso?" Bane asked.

"I could ask you the same thing, you were supposed to rough the bat up, not break his wings! What is wrong with you?!" Joker demanded.

"Cuál es tú problema?! Joker, I will tear you limb from limb after I crush the bat!"

"No, you won't, Bane. I run this dump, not you, and all my guys seem to agree. You know, all those guys who helped you beat Batman? Now put the rock down and don't you even think about killing Batman, we need him alive now that you've ruined everything!"

Bane growled in anger before snickering, "Fine, you win, payaso."

Bane slammed the boulder down with all his might on Batman's outstretched arm, crushing it and pinning the writhing dark knight in place. "Ah, damn you, Bane! Get that thing off him, we can't just leave him here like a stranded hiker! Please tell me there's a doctor somewhere on this island." Joker ordered, hanging his head and muttering.

Bane merely rolled the rock off of Batman's arm, peeling him from the ground and throwing the battered hero over his shoulder, his shattered arm waving like a cape over Bane's back.

We interrupt this broadcast for a breaking announcement. Gotham City's finest, Vicki Vale, is outside the gates of Arkham Asylum.

A blonde woman in a black dress coat stands before the infamous gates of Arkham Asylum, speaking into her mic, "Thanks, Dom. Reports of a riot overtaking Arkham Asylum are confirmed to be true. It is assumed that many, if not all officers inside have been taken hostage, if they're even alive. We'll keep you posted on this as updates are available."

As soon as she finished her sentence, the squeal of a megaphone made all cover their ears, the camera swinging around wildly to find the source. Soon, Vicki cried, "Look, on the watch tower!" The camera trained on a tall, metal tower with a spotlight atop it, the Joker wielding his megaphone with oversized teeth and tongue protruding from with as if it was a wide, unnerving, cackling smile. "Ladies and gentlemen," the Joker belted out, "we residents here at Arkham Asylum just want you to see what it's like to live in a madhouse. The food's crap, the inmates are insane, and the staff barbaric. But, hey, family's tend to fight but we have hospitality of the finest degree for our guests. Ain't that right, Bats?"

Bane stepped beside Joker, producing Batman before him by his cape, revealing his mangled body to the viewing world. "So, listen up, Gotham! Your caped crusader is ours! We've got Arkham under control and locked down in case of anyone getting any funny ideas, which is my job, by the way. I digress, we have no demands, we don't negotiate with the likes of you, and you couldn't possibly meet our demands when they don't exist. Anyone who attempts to breech the fence and we start killing officers. Anyone gets in and we kill the bat! So, good night, and rest easy knowing we have finally rid Gotham City of the bat menace!"

Joker lowered his mic and turned on his heel, Bane dragging Batman behind him as he followed suit. "You heard it here first, folks," Vicki began, the camera swinging down to record her, "Batman has been taken hostage by the Joker, along with an unconfirmed number of officers and prison staff, in Arkham Asylum..."

As Vicki tried to continue, a white-haired and mustached man interrupted her speech, covering her mic with his hand but his muffled voice being picked up, "I'm sorry, Vicki, but we have to leave, now. We've got too many good men inside there and we can't let them be put at risk."

Vicki swatted Gordon's hand away, erupting, "How dare you, James! The people have the right to this coverage and it's my job to give it to them."

"Not when lives are at stake because of it," Gordon began, turning to the camera and yelling to the crew, "That's it everyone, pack it in, we've got bigger things here than ratings."

Gordon forced his hand over the camera lens and the feed went dead, Vicki shouting, "Dammit, Gordon, the people deserve to see what the hell is going on here?! You can't do this!"

"I can and I am. This is the site of a police investigation, consider yourself trespassing as of now. You and your crew have 5 minutes to pack your things and get out of here. We won't be far behind."

Vicki scoffed at Gordon, she and her cameraman heading for their news van. James sighed and turned back to the asylum, the crescent moon illuminating the massive, horrific prison. "Well, what are we gonna do now?" Gordon pondered aloud.

A luxurious house's front door creaked open, a black-haired, bearded, rain-soaked man in a black suit entered his home and set a pistol on a table, tossing his keys beside it. A growing, gray pitbull puppy scuttled in after him with excitement, the man dropping to a knee and jostling it chin with his hands. "Hey, boy, welcome home."

The man made his way up the stairs, the puppy closely following behind, bounding up after his master. The man reached his room, reluctantly walking past his bed as he slipped his suit jacket off before loosing his tie. He reached his bathroom and looked at his reflection in the mirror. His cheeks and forehead were covered in cuts, blood caking his dress shirt to his stitched abdomen. The man carefully peeled his shirt from his body and inspected the wound. He had done a fairly decent job with his stitching, dabbing his finger on the coagulated blood to see if any of it still flowed. With a few splashes of cold water, he cleaned any of the blood on his face and dabbing a wet rag against his stomach. Finally cleaned up and too exhausted to care for himself further, he collapsed into bed, his dog hopping up beside him and curling against his side. "Good boy."

Light billowed into the home, birds singing their songs and the day beginning anew. The man was awoken to his dog affectionately licking his cheek, his hair a jumbled mess as he propped himself up to stare at his dog. "Well, boy, here's to the first day of our freedom."

In the kitchen, the man, having changed into jeans and long-sleeved white shirt, the sleeves hiked up to his elbows, prepared himself a hot cup of coffee. The dog across the room devoured its bowl of kibble, dropping much of its mouthfuls onto the ground before lapping them up. Just as he began his first sip, his doorbell rang. The man lowered his coffee apprehensively, the bell ringing again and forcing him to place it on the counter as he headed to the door. The silhouettes of several men near his door and one man at it heightened his suspicion. The bell rang a final time as he reached for the handle, opening it tentatively to find a man in a white suit and black skull mask before him. "Morning, John."

Without hesitation, John drew his pistol from the table and put it to the man's forehead, his eyes widening with surprise and his henchmen taking aim at John with their own sidearms. "Whoa," the masked man reassured, raising his hands to his shoulders and keeping his calm, "take it easy, John. I'm just here to talk."

"Do I know you?" John asked.

"Oh, come on, Johnny, who doesn't know who you are? Baba Yaga? Ring a bell? The question is, have you heard of me?" the man gushed, putting his hands to his chest.

"Well, I assume you're the Black Mask. Kind of hard for a man always wearing a mask to go unnoticed in our line of work."

"So there we are, we're acquainted. Put 'er there, Johnboy." Black Mask offered his hand.

John merely lowered his weapon, refusing his hand, and asked, "What brings you to my home?"

"That's the conversation I was hoping to have. I hope my entourage doesn't intimidate you into letting me inside, I'll only be a few minutes."

John stared the man down for several moments before stepping aside and presented him an entrance with an extension of his arm. Black Mask look backed to his men and nodded, all of them lowering their weapons as he walked inside, John closing the door behind them. They had barely made it far into the home before John's dog began to growl and bare his teeth at Black Mask. John shouted, "Hey," the dog's jowls dropped over its teeth and growling ceased before John ordered, "Sit."

The dog followed his order, panting happily as Black Mask complimented, "Ah, I love well-trained dog, especially pitbulls. Terrible what bad rap they get, ay, John? Kinda like us, they're just creatures of their circumstances."

John ignored him and led him to the dining room, going around the table and taking his seat before Black Mask seated himself opposite him. The two stared at each other for a time before Black Mask said, "So, John, I'm glad to have your hospitality. I have to say, I'm a huge fan of yours. John Wick. The Baba Yaga, the man who did the impossible two times over: build the Tarasov empire and get out of this life. Until you went back. Now everyone's watching, John. Favors, grudges, and scores to settle, you name it, they can all come right to your door. Hell, I don't even know you John, and it only took me a few hours to find where you live and few more to get to you. That scare ya?"

John only continued to stare Black Mask in the eyes. "Oh, you're good. I haven't felt chills like this since the last time the bat got me. But, I get ahead of myself, I'm sorry to hear the news about your wife. As a stranger, I give you my heartfelt condolences..."

"Just tell me why you're here." Wick demanded.

"I like you, John, you're not like my guys. You want the point and nothing else. So, you keep up with the news, John?"

"No, I've been...busy, taking care of some business."

"You mean getting back into work?"

"No." John bluntly denied.

"If you say so, John. But anyway, I've got an offer for you. There's an asylum in Gotham City having a riot. Not gonna lie, I've been a frequent member to that shithole. I got busted out and haven't been back since, so I'm a little apprehensive to go back, especially if the bat comes looking for me."

"You mean..."

"The Batman? Yes. The solution is that Batman is currently on the shelf in that prison. I can already bet Bane's made him his bitch," Black Mask laughed, continuing, "But I've got issues with the guy in charge of that takeover, the Joker. The thing about that crazy bastard is that everyone knows he's obsessed with Batman. Not in figuring out who he is or killing him but just messing with the guy. He beat his sidekick with a crowbar then blew him up, he paralyzed his female sidekick and put her nudes on a slideshow for her dad to watch, and spends every waking moment of his life making Batman's life a living hell because Batman doesn't have the guts to kill him. But you do. And you can help me."

"What exactly are you proposing?"

"Oh, come on, John, isn't it obvious? You took Viggo and his empire down just like you built it up. I'm sure you can take a prison full of wackos with no problem. The issue is that that place houses people with ungodly power. You heard of Deathstroke?"

"Of course."

"Good, he and Joker are only the tip of the iceberg, thank God they keep Croc in the basement but Bane's gonna be a problem. So, there's two parts to my offer, John..."

"I'm gonna stop you right there. I don't know you, I don't owe you any favors, and I'm not going to help you. You know where the door is, I'm giving you the chance to walk away now." John interjected.

Black Mask chuckled at John's tone, responding, "Oh, really, John? What's stopping you from shooting me right now? I came in here without a piece as a sign of good faith. You kill me and my guys out there, which I have no doubt you'd do without issue, and I'm no longer a threat to consider. But what about the next guy? And the next guy? And the next guy? And all the guys who can find out where you live and just come here? You're not going to be able to fight all of them off, John. You're a popular man, for better and worse."

"What do you have to offer me?"

"I love ya, John, you're self-interested just like me. I've got connections everywhere with everyone, John. You name him, I've met him and dealt with him. But no one crosses Black Mask. You do this for me, I say a few words, talk to a few people at the head of a lot of crime families and syndicates, and you never have anyone from your old life coming to your doorstep ever again. I can guarantee that, John. You know me, just like I know you."

John glared at Black Mask, gathering his thoughts before asking, "What's the job you need done?"

"Good," Black Mask began, "Joker needs to be put down. I don't care about the body count to him, he needs to be dead. I've got the criminal world under my thumb, hell, I could stand up to the High Table if I needed to. And you know if I'm telling the truth, that's why Viggo steered clear of me and you know it. But what I do care about is Gotham. That's my city. Word on the street is Joker took all my goons on the inside and made them is clowns. Everyone in Gotham knows what he did to Batman, it's only a matter of time before he's the most powerful person in Gotham. And who's to say it'll stop there? Get him a glowing rock and he takes Metropolis, he'll have an army by then. The guy has no aim without Batman, he can take the world and everything from me at this rate because he's doing what no one else could for years. He's beaten Batman. It'll be the first domino to fall and we're going to stop it."

John let out a long exhale, looking at his gun as Black Mask continued, "You shut him down now, John, and everything goes back to normal, for you and me. One last job, John, and we never meet again unless you want a night on the town, dinner, football tailgating..."

John only continued to stare at his gun, Black Mask remarking, "God, you're no fun, John. But that'll change quick. What do you say, do we have a deal?"

John finally looked up at Black Mask, his hand extended to seal the deal. John responded, "I'll need guns. A lot of guns."

Black Mask chuckled, replying, "We can get you more guns and ammo than you'll ever need."

A Ford Mustang roared through a rain-slicked city, clouds parting to reveal a blinding full moon behind them. Behind the wheel, John held the wheel in one hand and rested his other on the center console, nervously drumming his fingers against it. His hair was slicked back and adorned himself in a new black suit. He looked to his GPS, only a half a mile away from the infamous asylum. The ringing of his phone took his mind off of the job at hand, answering it to Black Mask chiming, "Ah, glad to hear from ya, Johnny. Now, listen, I don't want to put any more pressure on you but those guys say they'll kill guards if they see you at the gate or Batman if you get in. Just thought I'd drop that information off to ya."

"Does either affect my job?"

Black Mask let out a hearty laugh, replying, "Goddamn, John, you are cold as they come! Of course not, remember, the body count doesn't matter as long as Joker's dead."

"Any idea where I can find him?"

"Not a clue, John. The estate's massive, there's five buildings but I'd cross medical facility and botanical garden for start, unless he's really elusive. You should have a map of the place I gave you. Think you've got enough rounds and guns to do the job?"

John came up within view of the asylum's sprawling gates, coasting to a stop as he rolled down his window, holding off, "One moment, please," before leaning out his window with his compensated pistol and firing a round at the lock, blowing clean through it and letting out a piercing screech as it slowly creaked open. John drove past the gate as he continued, "I believe so. Thank you for the accommodations for my work, it's appreciated."

"Anytime, Johnboy, but it sounds like you're there. We'll be in touch." Black Mask assured, the call ending.

John slid his phone into his pocket as he pulled up beside a dented Batmobile, merely furrowing his brow for a moment at it before killing the engine. He made his way to the to his trunk, turning his key in the lock before it popped open, revealing several ammo stackers, each filled to the brim with pistol, rifle, and shotgun rounds. John holstered his pistol as he produced an AR-15, testing its bolt before looking down its sights. He set it down and brought up a Benelli M4 to his shoulder, aiming with it as he worked the ejection port on it. He then rested it into the crook of his arm and tested the loading port with his thumb, setting it back in the trunk. He grabbed his first belt of ammo and, after hiking up his suit jacket, clipped it around his hips and under his pants, sliding and re-buttoning his coat over it. No sooner had he smoothed over his jacket than did a man shout, "Hey, buddy, didn't you get the message? No one's allowed on the island or we start killing hostages. And looks like you just cost Batman his life."

John carefully closed the hood of his trunk, keeping his hand on his holstered pistol as he turned to face the man confronting him. He found a group of a half dozen muscular men, their faces painted like clowns and their only clothing being their prison pants. John merely stared at the men, the one who confronted him before responding, "Hey, buddy, are you deaf or what? We said you ain't supposed to be here! Looks like you've gotten some people killed. And one of 'em's gonna be you, pal. Let's get him, boys."

The men charged at John, the first to confront him lunging at him with a haymaker. John caught his wrist in his hand, turning his back to him before flipping him over his shoulder. The man grunted on impact, the wind leaving his lungs as he writhed on the ground. The next man spun John around and attempted to club him the the stomach, only for John to intercept his blow with a downward swipe of his fists, using the momentum to draw his pistol and jam the slide up into the man's throat, stunning him. John took aim and shot the man through the forehead, his head rocking back before he collapsed to the ground. His allies looked on in shock, John turning and firing down through the top of the man's skull he threw to the ground as he began to stir. "Whoa, hang on, that's John Wick!" one of the surviving men said.

"Bullshit, there ain't anyway he's in Gotham." another whispered.

"No, man, I swear to God that's him. I know it!"

"Well, even if it is, there's four of us and one of him, get him!"

With that, then men descended on John once again, the assassin taking down two more with head and chest shots before the other two reach him. John ducks a wild swipe of one of their fists, blasting his knee cap out and forcing him to a knee as she shouted in pain. John was then tackled to the ground by the final inmate, the man trying desperately to gain some separation from John's grip to beat him. John got the upper hand and wrapped his legs around the man's neck, squeezing with all his might as the man struggled to free himself from the triangle joke. John, put his pistol to the man's forehead and pulled the trigger, spraying his comrade in the gore. John pushed the corpse aside, his hysterical final foe pleading as John rose and approached him, "Whoa-whoa-whoa, hey, John, cool it! Here, look, I surrender. I'll give you whatever you want!"

John ignored him as he strolled up to him and shot him in the head, the corpse collapsing to its side as John looked on at the intensive treatment ward. John checked his mag before slamming it back into the gun, locking his car with a click of a button before charging to the entrance.

Link:https://m.fanfiction.net/s/13300890/1/