Born a bastard child to a loving couple, Lillian Bennett was taken from her mother as an infant by her narcissistic grandmother. Her grandmother saw Lillian and her father as a threat to her control over her daughter, Helena. So, Grandma Bloodrayne had the father killed in a car ‘accident’ and stole Lillian away from Helena. Upon losing her lover and her child taken from her by her own mother, Helena disappeared after childbirth and was never seen again. Bloodrayne was then killed by the League of Assassins after the grandmother’s kidnapping of her granddaughter made news headlines. Realizing the child had nowhere to go, Talia al Ghul took the girl under her wing and trained her to be a lethal assassin. Unfortunately, as Lillian grew into a young girl, she proved stubborn and unyielding with a moral code that clashed with the League’s goals. She was ordered to be terminated by the League’s leader, Ras al Ghul. However, Lillian fled death with the help of Nyssa and a fellow student, who seemed to have a level of prestige in the League. This student helped Lillian get to Gotham City…
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Facts:
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Real Name: Lillian Jean Bennett
Occupation: Assassin/Vigilante
Base of Operations: Gotham City
Eyes: Green
Hair: Light Brown
Height: 5 ft
Weight: 115 lbs
First Appearance: Batman: Arkham Echo - Chapter One: So Long, Sucker
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Attributes:
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- Highly skilled and well-trained in hand-to-hand combat, as well as swordsmanship (unusual for a young girl)
- Preferred weapons are a pair of war fans
- Exceptionally skilled in nearly all forms of martial arts, street-fighting and other various forms of combat
- Mysteriously well-versed in the basics of medical care and the treatment of wounds
- Possesses extensive knowledge on the anatomy of men, women and animals, including ailments, diseases and the vulnerabilities of the human body
- Knows various forms of torture, including performing an autopsy on a living victim
- Has proficient knowledge about Ras al Ghul, Talia al Ghul, the League of Assassins and their enemies and allies
- Exceptionally observant and intelligent with a photographic memory
- Has some knowledge of certain creative skills, such as sewing, drawing and crafts
- Likely a set of coping mechanisms and strategies to curb her more violent urges
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Psychological Evaluation:
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- Suffers from Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from being turned into a weapon at a young age
- Lillian will deny this diagnosis, suggesting a detachment from her trauma
- This detachment might be a form of protection to shield herself against the pain of her circumstances
- Unusually stoic and antisocial, a side effect of being trained to become a weapon by the League of Assassins
- Has a total disregard of the lives of criminals, even more so than Erica and Kiera
- Prone to violent outbursts of anger, especially during moments of distress
- Refuses to show vulnerability, or what she perceives as weakness, which displays a distrust of others
- Keeps her true desires close to her chest, preferring to keep it that way
- However, a silver-and-emerald ring may indicate a promise to someone of great importance to her, as well as someone she holds affection for
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Recorded Quotations:
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“I was just trying to keep this pup from being euthanized and these goons thought it was okay to try and jump me! Damn bastards!”
“I was trained by the League of Assassins to be a weapon. I know just as much as you most likely do, Batman.”
“This ring is from someone of great importance to me. That’s all I’m gonna say about it.”
Born to wealthy but abusive parents, Herman and Calissa Tearman, Kiera Thorn, formerly Kiera Tearman, chose education and compassion over her parents’ wishes. Their wishes were for her to become a housewife to an older wealthy man who was an associate of theirs. To escape this fate, Kiera enrolled in Gotham University’s Medical Program and signed up for every scholarship she could find. Because of this, her parents retaliated by cutting her off financially and from her younger sister, Stella. This act of retribution came back to bite her parents, as they were written out of the will of the respected Samuel and Allison Thorn as punishment. What would’ve been the couple’s inheritance went to Kiera and Stella, allowing Kiera to pursue her education in the medical field without financial issues and for Stella to emancipate from their parents. On top of her studies in medicine, Kiera pursued her own personal studies into magic and witchcraft. In fact, one of her spells may have led to the bankruptcy of her parents and their businesses…
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Facts:
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Real Name: Kiera Elizabeth Thorn (Formerly Kiera Elizabeth Tearman)
Occupation: Doctor/Vigilante
Base of Operations: Gotham City
Eyes: Blue-green
Hair: Black
Height: 5 ft 4 in
Weight: 120 lbs
First Appearance: Batman: Arkham Echo - Prologue: The Arkham Banshee
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Attributes:
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- Educated in medicine, anatomy of humans and animals, surgical procedures and various treatments for various conditions
- Well-versed in human diseases, ailments and conditions, as well as ailments and diseases found in household pets
- Top graduate in Gotham University’s Medical Program
- Doctorate in Medicine with honors
- Avid in witchcraft and the magickal and mystic arts
- Well-read in various mythologies, their pantheons of gods, goddesses, deities and ethereal entities and their mythos
- Proficient with bladed weaponry, noticeably her athame
- Wears a silver, moonstone-studded choker necklace that triggers the transformation into her alter ego
- Capable of combining both magick and medicine to create potent remedies and healing spells
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Psychological Evaluation:
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- Suffers with a generalized anxiety disorder, related to the abuse and unrealistic expectations from her parents
- Has a protective and motherly intuition, likely a quality adapted from childhood as an older sibling
- Prone to outbursts of anger and frustration due to failures in spellwork or medical work
- Has a seductive streak to her personality, often used a manipulation tactic or as a way to help those she is allied with
- Possesses the same mentality as her roommate, Erica, believing that criminals with no desire to change or be rehabilitated should die
- The reason for this mentality is due to her seeing how crime and those who commit it hurt the innocent
- Has a deep hatred towards abusive parents and often calls protective services on them to assure the safety of their child or children
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Recorded Quotations:
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“Erica is entitled to her own opinions, Batman, especially about the very people who treated her and those she cared about like objects rather than people!”
“I’m a doctor, Batman. I subscribe to a certain code of ethics. Morality, on the other hand, I have my own set of rules for that.”
“Pain can be debilitating… as it was for your fallen son, Batman. Didn’t need to be if you had found him like the great detective you’re acclaimed to be. But, Erica, oh, she wears those scars that Joker gave her like the darkest shade of red war paint…”
Hey, so I decided that with the Arkham Echo rewrite, I should redo the Character Bios for the girls, who I lovingly refer to as the ‘Arkham Banshees’. The bios were originally written on my @ciphenwriter21 account. I, more or less, used the character bios from the Arkham Asylum game as a template. The only things I added were the psychological evaluation section (which is just an extension of the ‘Attributes’ section for the mental ailments of the characters; I prefer things organized) and the Recorded Quotations section (a nod to the audio tapes from the Arkham games).
This is basically meant to be Sparrow’s personal collection of dossiers of the characters, in a way.
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Sparrow
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Story:
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After losing her biological family in a deadly car crash, a ten-year-old Erica Davis emerged from the tragedy as the sole survivor. Kidnapped by the Joker and made into his “daughter” by the codename of ‘Spades’, Erica lived her early teenage years in fear of her new father. She began to rebel against him at age fourteen, refusing to wear clown paint and costumes, opting for subtler and more comfortable attire. She even began blocking out Joker’s words and demands with creative pursuits like music and art. However, an unlikely friendship with Batman’s secondary Robin, Jason Todd, led her to discover her true desire for both freedom and justice. Unfortunately, it led to her and her wayward friend to be tortured for over a year by the Clown Prince of Crime. That painful year ended with Jason’s death and Erica barely escaping a thug-led execution with the help of a certain cat burglar. Though, her mind and her heart were left in grief-stricken shambles.
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Facts:
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Real Name: Erica Ronda Davis
Occupation: Vigilante/Artist/Political Activist
Base of Operations: Gotham City
Eyes: Brown
Hair: Dark Brown
Height: 5 ft 7in
Weight: 124 lbs
First Appearance: Batman: Arkham Echo - Prologue: The Arkham Banshee
Attributes:
- Trained in self-defense before being self-trained in street fighting, boxing and varying styles of martial arts
- Proficient in firearms and bladed weaponry, despite no prior history of use, registration or training
- Self-taught in computer skills, such as hacking, programming and electronic repair
- Mysteriously well-versed in investigative and interrogative skills
- Skilled in deter and misdirect tactics, as well as espionage and evasion
- Speaks fluent Portuguese and Spanish, likely being multilingual
- Avid creative skills in writing and the arts, often used in conjunction with her political and crime-fighting pursuits
- Exceptionally observant with a well-adept memory
- Quotes both obscure and popular horror franchises as a form of intimidation, among other intimidation tactics
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Psychological Evaluation:
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- Suffers from Complex Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (C-PTSD) as a result of repeated child abuse and prolonged torture
- Symptoms include nightmares/intrusive memories, self-esteem issues, difficulty controlling emotions, changes in typical behavior and fixation of getting revenge on abuser (Joker)
- Struggles with survivor’s guilt stemming from the gruesome death of Jason Todd, AKA the second Robin
- Expresses a deep-seeded hatred towards Joker and Harley Quinn for their maltreatment and abuse towards her (and by extension, Jason Todd)
- Mantle of Sparrow likely an homage to the late Robin
- Believes that murderers and abusers of any kind who refuses rehabilitation are deserving of death
- Contrary to that, Erica exhibits an unwavering empathy and compassion towards victims of crime, especially women and children
- Carries a stainless steel Colt M1911A1 with ivory handles for self-defense
- Possession of the Colt demonstrates a high level of paranoia and distrust
- Legally registered to carry the Colt
- Suffers from non-celiac gluten sensitivity (NCGS) caused by prolonged environmental and physical stress
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Recorded Quotations:
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“I don’t entirely hate you, Batman. But, you need to stay the hell out of my way.”
“What was it you said to me that night? ‘Perhaps it’s time to have the talk about screwing around with Batman’s boys!’? Well, maybe it’s time we talk about not beating my friends with crowbars and hot irons!”
“I was fucking 15 when you and Joker took my only friend from me, Harley! And you seriously thought that I wouldn’t say or do something about it? Think again, honey…”
Batman: Arkham Echo - Prologue: The Arkham Banshee
This is the prologue of the Arkham Echo rewrite. The reason for this rewrite is because the original Arkham Echo draft was written during a time when I was still developing my writing skills and still learning about every corner of the Arkhamverse. I hope with this rewrite, I might be able to produce a better end product and tell a more coherent, competent and compelling story. With that being said, I hope you enjoy the beginning of this story!
WARNING ⚠️: The following story tackles themes and topics that aren’t for the faint of heart. These include themes and topics of torture, murder, abuse (of all kinds), criminal activity, vigilantism and severe mental health issues among others. Readers are advised to proceed reading with caution…
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Ever since I was ten, I was put under the thumb of the Clown Prince of Gotham and his little puppet of a girlfriend. Having lost my parents and older brother in a car crash, it was only a matter of time. Such was my luck, I ended up with the most sadistic and cruel bloodhounds out of the criminal litter, the Joker. I was forced to dress and style my hair a certain way, to never speak unless spoken to and to never cross him. Every now and then, I would get a respite whenever he was taken to Blackgate Prison. I would find myself in the company of cat burglars and red-headed botanists. I was made a ward of the state at age twelve and placed in the temporary custody of one Dr. Lesile Thompkins. I even got the occasional visit from Batman and his allies at the clinic and youth centers.
But, even then, I couldn’t fully escape the immeasurable cruelty and manic laughter of the Joker. No matter what, he always broke out of prison, found me and pulled me back into his twisted world. He even managed to pull an empathetic doctor into his orbit, turning her into his lovesick devotee and confidante. He seemed almost obsessed with the idea of having a ward that he could mold to his desires. He demanded I wear a gas mask, so I would ‘embrace the madness more naturally without chemical assistance’. He wanted me to slowly become desensitized to the violence and insanity he would expose me to. He wanted to turn me into a miniature version of him, minus the bath in acid. In essence, he was trying to combat the ward of Batman, Robin, with one of his own. Unfortunately, he only succeeded in making me hate him and scared of him all the more…
As I grew into a teenager, things began to change. I was growing restless and began to yearn for something beyond the criminal lifestyle that I was coaxed into. Around age fourteen, I started to rebel in little ways, things that would tick Joker off but wouldn’t elicit an outburst. Actions like wiping away whatever makeup he put on my face or dressing in donated casual clothes rather than elaborate costumes. I even began to block him out with music and other activities, not wanting to hear his voice. But, I was still frightened of him, hence why I still wore the gas mask that concealed who I was underneath. I also didn’t want all of Gotham to know who I was, partially out of shame and fear.
Then one day, Batman’s latest Robin saw me without the mask…
It was a typical weapons supply run with clown-faced gangsters guarding a warehouse near Dixon Docks. One of Joker’s thugs had threatened my life in order to keep Robin at a distance, holding a knife at my throat. I fought as much as I could, but the thugs just held me tighter and pressed the knife closer to my skin. But, Boy Wonder had a few moves that they didn’t account for. He chucked a throwing bird at the goon that had me trapped before sending a powerful kick at the other. Now free, I just started kicking the thug who held me at knifepoint, cursing the coward with each strike. Robin didn’t even try to stop me, which was unexpected from the student of Batman. I was half-expecting to be yanked away and chastised for beating an already unconscious man. When I finally stopped, I looked at him and said…
“I’m surprised you didn’t stop me…”
“Hey, he put the knife to your neck. If you ask me, he had it coming…” Was what he replied back with, shrugging as he didn’t just witness me committing assault against a prone mobster. From what I understand about Robin, he was meant to be a much more amicable juxtaposition to Batman and his brute force methods. But, this Robin was different; he was rougher, more reckless and less inclined to go easy on criminals.
And as I would soon find out, he was also pretty observant…
“You’re Joker’s Daughter… Spades, right?” He hummed slowly and questioningly, his eyes glancing over the dreaded gas mask with the spade sloppily painted on the front.
“Not by blood… or by choice, for that matter. Though, I really don’t have anywhere else to go. At least, anywhere safe,” I answered solemnly, making my situation clear to him and why I hadn’t been able to leave it.
“I figured that. You’re too pretty to be that bastard’s kid,” he commented with a flirty demeanor, crossing his arms over his chest with a charming smirk.
“Damn, birdboy. Is that supposed to be a compliment?” I asked somewhat incredulously, giving him a slight smile as my cheeks flushed pink.
“Heh, If you want it to be,” He chuckled softly, his grin now cocky. That was probably the first time that someone had flirted with me, even if it was just part of the teenage vigilante act. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, he meant it as a way to cheer me up. I guess he wanted to assure me that I wasn’t anything like Joker or how the media portrayed me as; Joker’s little jester. I couldn’t help but chuckle a little about his response, making it the first time someone was able to make me laugh at a joke in a long time. Joker’s more sinister and darker brand of comedy only succeeded in making me feel like crap.
That day left a mark on me that ran deeper than any scar or tattoo on my skin. A few weeks after meeting Robin for the first time, I had an argument with the Joker. He wanted me to shoot a goon who had been flirting with Harley behind his back. When I refused to do it and dropped the gun, Joker slapped me across the face hard enough to send me tumbling to the ground. After that, I just grabbed what I could, put it all in my backpack and ran to find the one person I could think of. I found Robin, patrolling on top of a roof, probably waiting for a crime to be committed.
“Robin!” I exclaimed aloud while running up to him, despite being out of breath from running miles from Amusement Mile and the Steel Mill. I nearly knocked him down as I unceremoniously tripped over a two-by-four, stumbling into his arms. At that moment, I began to break down in tears, now finally somewhere more secure with someone safe. It didn’t take long for Robin to assess what was going on with me and why I was crying. Safe to say, he wasn’t happy that Joker had laid a hand on me…
“Whoa! What the hell are you doing here-… Wait, is that… Is that a handprint on your face?!” He shouted with a spark of anger in his voice. The outburst was loud enough for everyone in the neighborhood to hear, if they weren’t asleep already.
“Robin, not so loud! Look, Joker wanted me to shoot a goon who was flirting with Harley. I refused to and… he slapped me,” I explained to him as calmly as I could, despite the adrenaline and anxiety rushing through my veins.
“That bastard! I’m gonna fuckin-...” Before Robin could walk away and finish his statement, I grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
“Wait! Please, I don’t wanna think about Joker or be near him right now. Just… I need a friend right now…” I was too exhausted for any more excitement, let alone any crime-fighting action that might result in police involvement.
“So… you came to me? I’m flattered, really, but… shouldn’t you be going to Batman about all this?” Robin asked me with a confused tone in his voice. I guess he didn’t think someone would come looking for him for help.
“Look, nothing against Batman. I just… I don't think he can help me out with my situation…” I said honestly, sounding more depressed than matter-of-fact. I’ve seen how Batman treats the criminals in Gotham, especially those who need things like therapy and medication. Besides, I don’t know how lenient he’ll be with someone like me. Joker had always made sure that I was scared of the big bad Bat…
“Well, alright. Just stay close to me as I keep watch. If Batman calls me for a mission, you stay here or go somewhere safe, got it?”
“I got it. And… Robin?”
“Hm?”
“Call me Erica. That’s my real name… Spades is just what the Clown calls me.”
“Alright… Erica.”
Never did I imagine that those encounters would lead to an unexpected friendship with the second Boy Wonder. It was strange having a friend outside of Joker and Harley’s twisted crime-infested bubble, let alone one who is an ally of Batman. Besides the costume and crime-fighting, Robin was like any other kid I’ve seen living in Gotham City. He enjoyed a good book once in a while, could cook a pretty good meal and was pretty quick on his feet. Any time he wrapped up a mission with Batman or found time out of his day, he came by to check on me or just hang out. We spent whatever time we had together, doing whatever we wanted whenever we wanted. For the first time in years, we got to just be kids and not have to care about anything stressful or overly important. It was the first time since I met Joker and became Spades that I felt safe and happy. A part of me never wanted that feeling to fade away, wishing to keep feeling that warmth and security forever.
Then one night, Robin came storming to my hideout, his temper blazing at an all-time high. I had never seen him so angry before, not even when I would meet him after me and Joker had our disagreements. I knew he and Batman had their arguments over how to handle crime in Gotham, but this was different. Something was very wrong…
“Robin, are you okay? You’ve practically got steam coming out of your ears-” I didn’t get to finish what I was saying as Robin cut me off.
“Joker killed a bunch of elementary kids at Gotham Academy…” His voice was stone cold, but the anger emanating from it was white hot.
“Holy shit… Robin… I don’t… I don’t know what to say…”
“Yeah, me either… I’m… I’m beyond pissed right now…”
“I never knew… that Joker would… I mean, innocent kids…Oh god, I’m gonna be sick…” I had to put a hand on my stomach while grasping a nearby chair, feeling bile and my dinner bubbling up within.
“Hey, hey, this isn’t your fault. You’ve been away from that freak for weeks now…” Robin could only put a hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me, even through the haze of his righteous anger.
“I know, I just… Oh my god… what are you gonna do, Robin?”
“I’m goin’ after him. He’s not getting away with this!”
“Wait, Robin! What about Batman? Surely, he could-”
“Batman isn’t gonna make it any better! He’s just gonna throw the Joker into Arkham and then that clown will break out again!” Robin spat out, his rage suddenly spilling out in a bout of frustration.
“Look, Robin, please… The last thing I want is for you to get hurt or worse…”
“I appreciate your concern, Erica, but if Joker isn’t stopped, more lives will be lost,” Robin explained with a furious anxiety before walking out the door with a determined and prompt stride to his step. I tried to stop him, but he was already out of reach and had taken off into the night. At that moment, I began to panic and pace around the perimeter of my hideout. My breathing came out in short bursts, my heart beginning to beat rapidly against the inside of my chest. Tears began to well up into my eyes as a sinking feeling made itself known in the depths of my gut. Something about this felt off, like this was all some grand scheme to make either Batman or Robin tick. Why else would Joker have gone off and killed a classroom full of harmless children? It’s the only explanation why the Clown would do such a heinous thing with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Which means if Joker had planned this…
Then there was a trap waiting somewhere…
Knowing Joker’s penchant for rubbing salt into open wounds, there was only one place that he could be luring Robin to. That place in question was Arkham Asylum, where Batman would send Joker whenever he caught the Clown.
I made a choice… I had to tell Robin…
I managed to run all the way to the reopened asylum, practically speeding there on pure adrenaline. Once outside the building, I found Robin heading inside via ripping open a vent grate and climbing inside. I followed him inside, stopping him as he entered a boarded up and condemned wing of the asylum.
“Robin, stop! It’s not safe!”
“Erica, you shouldn’t be here!”
“Neither should you! I’ve got a bad feeling about all this!”
“Joker’s here! I know he is! I’ll stop him, then we can go home.”
“Robin, please, you could be getting played!”
“What do you mean?”
I didn’t have a chance to answer him when I heard the sound of overly-giddy and sadistic laughter. It was a sound I knew all too well from five years of being Joker’s daughter and punching bag. He was here, lying in wait for Robin to come along, so he could do his worst to him. We both looked around the room with caution, trying to find any sign of Joker. I caught sight of something metallic and blunt in the shadows, clutched in a lavender gloved hand from emerging yellow and purple fabric. I quickly moved to maneuver Robin out of the way, only for both of us to get whacked by a metal rod.
The swing was hard enough and swift enough to knock us both down, sending us tumbling to the tiled floor beneath. The dim lights of Arkham Asylum revealed who both knew our attacker was - The Joker. He paused suddenly, as if pondering his next attack upon seeing me huddled next to Robin, dazed and in pain.
“Oh, so this is who and where you’ve sneaking off to, Spades? Well, perhaps it’s time to have the talk about screwing around with Batman’s boys!”
“No!” Robin abruptly leaped in front of me, receiving a harsh strike to his jaw. He was sent sprawling heavily to the floor, unconscious but still alive. But, I knew that it only meant that there were worse things to come for us with Joker. I instantly shielded Robin from what would’ve been the Clown’s next blow, preparing myself for the pain to come. But, next thing I knew, I felt searing electric shocks racking through my body as a distressed cry was torn from my throat. After that, everything went dark, but before I caught Joker speaking to someone lurking in the shadows…
“Well done, Frankie! Now, let’s get these two settled in for their stay…”
What happened next was something I could’ve only seen in my worst nightmares. It was constant pain and torture for what feels like days, but was likely only several hours. Joker takes pleasure in subjecting Robin and I to whatever mind games or physical torture he could think of. We would be terrorized in separate rooms or together in the same room, all with different forms of inflicting pain and manipulation. Slowly, I began to realize that how Joker antagonized me was different from how he tormented Jason.
Yes, Robin’s real name was Jason Todd. I found out when Joker said it out loud while beating us around the three month mark.
With Jason, it was a mix of physical abuse, drugging and mental manipulation. The whole point of it was a form of psychological warfare, all surrounding Jason’s relationship with Batman. From broken bones to barbed wire on wheelchairs to hallucinogenics and thugs dressed as the Bat, Joker always had an ace or two up his sleeve. He even used me as a tool, holding me at knifepoint or gunpoint to get Jason to be more compliant and easier to control. Even some of the goons, some of them dressed as Batman, he would bring in would do the same, trying to get a rise out of him. Only they didn’t realize that Harley Quinn had slipped him a hallucinogenic before they had arrived. Let’s say the effects of those drugs were so potent, they had Jason fighting back like a feral animal.
When it came to me, the abuse wasn’t as physical as what was being done to Jason, though there was still plenty of it. Hell, neither mine nor Jason’s ankles broke themselves. It was more of a twisted form of punishment, making me watch as he tortured the one person I had grown to care about. To the Joker, I was just a convenient tool in his arsenal to keep Jason under his thumb. Like Jason, I was branded with the same ‘J’ mark between my left shoulder and the blade of it. When I yelled out from the searing pain of it, I could’ve swore I went deaf for a moment.
The moments of respite we had didn’t lead to much rest or even healing. Our wounds and injuries were always reopened or made worse when Joker came around for more. However, it did leave time for comfort, even if it was miniscule at best. The times we were in the same room after Joker did his worst were filled with pondering when Batman, or anyone, was gonna save us or what was gonna happen next. But, that hope began to dwindle with each passing day with more horrors to be experienced from Joker. Jason grew more frightened as he realized that he wasn’t going to be rescued by his father figure.
The only solace he had was when he was with me, curled up in my arms. He would shiver and clutch onto me as I held him, sobbing and whimpering inconsolably into my chest. I had never seen him so frazzled and brought low before. Jason was always cocky, witty and sarcastic, a protective and even necessary barrier for the well-meaning, sensitive kid he was against a city full of darkness. But, now he practically jumped when he heard the footsteps of doctors elsewhere in the asylum or shadows that were too dark to see into.
The one thing that Jason asked me to do frequently is talk to him or just use my voice in general. He kept muttering that he could hear the Joker’s voice, even when he wasn’t there to humiliate us. I did what I could, assuring him that I was alive and real or singing to him to help calm him down. I didn’t understand it at the time, but I realized afterwards that there were two reasons for his request.
The first reason was that he needed something to block out the voice of Joker, echoing in his head. The next best thing he had was me and whatever I could say or sing to him.
The other reason? He was making sure I was still alive, assuring himself that Joker hadn’t done me in. That reason was probably the one that hurt the most.
A year went by with no saviors in sight, just endless torture and growing despair. Jason had given up several months prior after Joker branded him with that J. The shrill scream he let out when that white-hot iron touched his left cheek was something I’ll never forget. The twelve months of horror was marked by Joker sending the message he has been working towards delivering to Batman. Jason was sitting in a fragile wooden chair, utterly defeated and still clearly in deep pain. Meanwhile, Harley and Frank Boles were holding me back, just out of the view of Joker’s camera. I was forced to watch with dawning horror and realization as the entire recording took place…
“Do you have something to tell the nice man, Jason?”
“My name… is Jason Todd…”
“Who do you hate?”
Jason glanced over at me, his eyes puffy from tears and tired as ever. He then gave Joker the answer I dreaded he would give him, “Batman…”
My eyes began to sting with tears of my own, a part of me feeling shame for believing for so long that anyone, especially Batman, was coming to help us. Joker’s monologue to Batman via camera blurred into nothing but white noise for a while. Honestly, Joker’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard to me at that moment. I couldn’t stand to listen to his insidious ramblings and horrific jokes anymore. Until he approached Jason with another sinister question with many potential ramifications.
“Hey, I never asked. What’s the big secret? Who is the big, bad bat? His name. Tell me!”
As soon as he asked that, I began to try and fight off Harley and Boles’ hold on me. All I could think about was how that question was a trick and was gonna end badly. But Harley and Boles held fast and were refusing to withdraw their grip on my arms.
“Of course, sir. He’s-...”
BANG!
Dead. He was dead. It all happened so fast as Joker pulled out a gun and shot Jason before he could even finish answering him. Jason was knocked back by the shot before falling to the floor, the fumbled chair above him. To my horror, he didn’t get back up or even move a muscle. He didn’t give any indication that he was alive. My heart sank and a lump formed in my throat, blocking the wail that was welling up inside.
As Joker finished his ending monologue, all that shock and sorrow began to slowly boil into rage. With all the energy I could muster, I ripped myself away from Harley and Boles and lunged at Joker. I only made it so far before they grabbed me again, but I didn’t care because all I could do was yell out, “You fucking monster! You killed him! All ‘cause you’re too much of a coward to pick a fight with the Bat yourself! I’ll fucking destroy you! I’ll kill you!”
A ringing sound filled my ears as I saw Joker hand Harley the camera while gesturing to Boles to get me out of the room. I couldn’t care less about my own safety; the anger I felt towards the Clown had my blood boiling. All I could see was red, even as Boles dragged me away by my arms. I can’t remember what happened next, but all I know is that I was tossed into a garbage pile on the sidewalk of Gotham’s East End. From what I could discern besides the now faded ringing in my ears, some of Joker’s goons had gathered me. No doubt ordered by their boss and Harley Quinn to kill me where I lay. But they didn’t get very far before someone or something began attacking them.
When their attacker finished putting Joker’s clowns and lackeys in their place, I was stunned to hear a familiar voice speak after that, “Damn, you boys should really start picking on others your own size.”
The feminine witty voice was that of Selina Kyle, best known as the notorious thief for hire, Catwoman. I knew her from various news stories and had even seen her slinking and stealing things around Gotham a few times at night. At first, I wasn’t sure if I could trust her or if I should even reach out to her at all. But I realized that beggars can’t be choosers after being put through the ringer for a year. So, with a voice that was hoarse from the screaming fit in Arkham earlier, I croaked out, “M-Miss Kyle?”
As if like an actual cat, her helmed head snapped in my direction. Her bright green eyes then settled on my weakened form, a slight look of surprise on her beautiful face. Before long, that face of quiet confidence and feline-like elegance twisted into an expression of horror, “Oh my god! You okay, kid?”
That was the million question; was I okay? Well, my family got killed when I was ten. I’ve been on Joker’s tight leash for almost half a decade, unable to utter my own name out of fear. I was brutally tortured and beaten for a year alongside my only friend. Then, just hours ago, I witnessed that same friend be murdered by Joker. So, no, I wasn’t at all okay. If anything, my head was spinning with confusion, my heart was beating rapidly and my chest burned with anger. But, all I could get out was tears and a sobbing response, “No… No, I’m not… He killed my friend… Oh god, he killed Jason…”
“Who killed your friend? Hey, you can tell me,” Selina asked, her gloved and clawed hands holding my wrists gently as I shook with anxiety and the newly-emerging pain of my injuries. It took me a long while to calm the hyperventilating I was doing before I gave her the name I dreaded uttering, “Joker…”
Selina seemed to grow still, processing the implication of what I had just said. But as quickly as she did, she got right down to business, “Okay, well, first things first, those scars aren’t gonna heal themselves. There’s a clinic a few streets down from here. Dr. Thompkins should be able to help you out. C’mon.”
Like that, Selina helped me up and started guiding me towards Dr. Thompkins’s medical clinic. I had actually been to Leslie’s clinic before when I became a ward of the state, where I was placed in her custody. Harvey Dent, now Two-Face, actually oversaw my case when he was DA, which was probably why she was my guardian for a time. But then, Joker stole me away when he finally broke out of Blackgate for the final time.
Thankfully, Leslie kept her clinic open at late hours, which was probably more than a good thing. As soon as we walked in, Leslie immediately realized what was going on and sprung into action. She didn’t even ask Selina any questions as she had her intern retrieve first-aid supplies and pain medication. Dr. Thompkins moved me into an examination room, looking over my wounds and injuries. Most of my afflictions weren’t too severe, but many of my scars were infected or at risk of infection. Before long, my scars were given medicated ointment and dressed with gauze, including the J on my left shoulder blade.
But, I was still in shock and couldn’t speak or utter a single word, even when I tried to answer Dr. Thompkins’s questions. At one point, her intern, who I learned was named Kiera, said that asking me questions might cause me more distress. Eventually, Dr. Thompkins stopped and decided that her questions could wait until a later date. After a few more hours of monitoring and testing, Leslie released me to Selina, who took me back to her apartment.
Selina’s home in Park Row was filled with stray cats, souvenirs from her extorts and ripped wallpaper. The next few days with Selina passed in a blur of restless nights and hazy mornings. Selina did her best to take care of me and comfort me, even when she had her nightly jobs and sprees. She would occasionally get me a trinket or two from various places she stole from to cheer me up. This included a delicate gold heart-shaped locket she found at a jewelry store she lifted from. I kept it, of course, putting a photo of Jason I cut to fit inside and a lock of his hair from when Joker forced me to cut it for the tape to Batman.
Despite living with Selina being a breath of fresh air, the pain I felt inside still ached like hell. A part of me was growing restless from sitting around and doing nothing while Joker was running free, not facing consequences. But what could I even do? I didn’t have the money or resources to bring Joker to justice and make sure he gets what he deserves. I would need to find a costume that could be practical for combat and recognizable as its own symbol.
As luck would have it, there were some spare costumes somewhere in Gotham City. I wouldn’t find it until I left Selina’s place and went to stay with Kiera, the intern at Dr. Thompkins’s clinic. I had discovered that the Batman costumes that Joker was giving to thugs he would let loose on a drugged-out Jason came from one man: The Tailor.
Joker and Harley get their own costumes from him all the time. In fact, many of the costumes Joker got me - which I never wore - came from him as well. Surely, if Joker had him make Batman costumes, he probably had the Tailor make some Robin costumes as well. It’s entirely possible that Joker just never ended up using them because he got what he wanted from Jason. This meant that they were available to be taken without Joker ever knowing or bothering to know where they went.
But, I knew I wouldn’t just need a costume if I was going to be fighting crime and making Joker pay for his misdeeds. I was gonna need weapons and other various tools to help achieve what I needed to do. But, those weren’t the only weapons I would have at my disposal. I knew I could take all my pain and darkness and concentrate it all into a weapon to finally put Joker down like the bloodthirsty animal he truly is.
If Batman wasn’t gonna do it after losing a boy he claims to care so much about, then I would. I would make sure that Jason’s death wasn’t in vain or for Joker’s sick enjoyment. I would make sure that Jason got the vengeance he deserved. I would make sure that what happened to us never happened to anyone else…
My name is Erica Davis…
Who do I hate? The Joker…
He killed my family when I was ten…
He took away what remained of my childhood…
He killed my only friend right in front of me when I was sixteen…
Jason Todd died in Arkham Asylum at the Clown’s hand…
And I was the Banshee whose cry announced it…
But, now I will be the one to ensure his killer meets his maker…
I am the Arkham Banshee…
I am Gotham’s Lady in White…
I am Sparrow…
~~~~~~~
Whew, that took me longer than expected, but I finally finished it! Hope you enjoy!
Gorgeous Riddler Statue designed by Comic Book artist Carlos D’Anda (he worked on the Arkham Batman games) I blogged about this back in April, but I'm gonna update it since they have more info about it on their site.
Real Elite Masterline Batman (Comics) The Riddler All In One (Design by Carlos D'Anda) DX Bonus Version - Prime 1 Studio
