Summary: "My, my, that Bat has been in hiding for much too long...what does it take to make a Batman come out and play?" 16 ordinary citizens are chosen to take part in an experiment of a different kind. The one objective; stay alive as long as you can.

Disclaimer: I do not own Batman nor do I claim to.

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3 months.

3 months it had been since Batman had last appeared. 1 month since the Joker made swift exit from Arkham and headed into the depths of the narrows. There have been rumoured sightings of both, all over Gotham, but its no one is truly to aware what to believe.

It seems the citizens of Gotham can begin to release the collective breath they were unaware they were holding. Banks and schools are beginning to be rebuilt. Petty crime begins to rise again but a few mundane robberies and mob dealings seem futile in comparison to the devastation they had previously suffered. It seems Gotham can relax again.

For now.

Because unaware to them all, in the shady outskirts of the city, after careful planning, the stage has been set for the comeback of the century.

Now all he needs are the players...

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"Calm down May, no she doesn't know anything, I swear...don't fucking call me naive, she's my fucking wife! I'd know if something was up, so if she calls back..."

Robert Perske let the inane ramblings of his twenty something mistress pass him, working his mouth in impatience, by as he scrambled documents together on his desk. He was in the midst of a very important case; a wealthy woman had been accused of murdering her husband, having caught him making the beast with two backs with his younger mistress. Of course, the ironies of the case were not lost on him, but Robert assured himself he was not stupid enough to get caught. However, if this bitch kept yakking on like this...

"Look May, just calm down, alright. I'll come round later. I'm too busy to deal with this right now, OK? I'll speak to you after my meeting,"

God, everything was a fucking mess right now. He was trying to keep his head down and focus on the case but Lord knows he couldn't do it with all these women blabbering on around him. It was just like his father often said; "Son, it's always a woman's fault". And damn, was his old man ever right.

The little blue dial on his watch began to beep, indicating it was time for lunch. "Finally," he muttered to himself; he was going to go meet one of the senior partners for lunch down at a local restaurant, a man named Boris Sampson. The guy was alright, quite dull; he sometimes came when the him and the other men went on their regular strip club visits, but Robert could tell from his expression that he'd rather be some place a whole lot different. God knows why, strip clubs were perfect; no one ever asked questions and the women only ever opened the mouths to ask "So, what do you want?"

Still, he was technically his boss, and promotions were coming up, and like hell was he going to miss a subtle opportunity to sidle into his good books. He got ready to leave when suddenly there was an impertinent knock on the door.

"Now what?" Grumbled Robert. " Fucking secretary, letting every bum in at every goddamn hour of the day,"

Suddenly, the door burst open and a dark figure stood looming menacingly in the door way.

"Who the hell are you-" His words were cut off as he felt something pierce his neck, and Robert Perske collapsed into a crumpled heap on the floor.

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So typical. After an 18 hour shift, just as Rose Harris could feel herself succumbing to delicious sleep, the obnoxious buzzing of her phone could be heard, viciously interrupting her slumber. The perpetrator had been her good friend Amy, who had sent a brief but important message.

"Got some big news. Come over ASAP, its X"

It couldn't be anything awful, as Amy would have rung her, or texted her the news, not insisted she go all the way over to the other side of town to meet her. I bet her and Andrew are engaged, she grumbled under her breath. As delightful news as that would be, it really would not be worth interrupting her well deserved sleep for.

As she reached the car park, her hands dug around in her handbag for her keys. Dammit, please say she hadn't left them upstairs. Brushing her annoying blonde fringe out of her eyes, she cursed out loud. Suddenly, out they fell, hitting the ground with a loud clang.

"Thank God," She muttered, as she swiftly bent down to pick them up. Suddenly, there was a rustling, and the last thing she saw was a cruel face in the darkness roughly shoving a bag over her head.

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Father O'Donald had stayed behind after mass, like he usually did. Today of all days, he required some quiet meditation, and thought, and where better to do that in the presence of his Lord. Kneeling, he placed his hands in prayer position and bowed his head silently. Oh sweet Gotham, he thought. I wonder what you must have done to deserve so much evil sweeping through your streets. Even through the darkest times, Father O'Donald had trusted and believed in his God, that eventually the light would break through the dark. However there were points when it seemed that evil in this world really was all consuming, that there was very little good left. He hated to think it but sometimes, anything he did seemed to act like little more than a band-aid.

The church was unusually quiet; it seemed his fellow priests had either left or departed for some fresh air. He could feel the harsh glares of the sun on his neck and wiped the sweat from his brow. There was an unusual quiet about; he supposed it was due to the fact that recently everyone had become accustomed to the sounds of police sirens and explosions ringing through the air.

Dear Lord, he prayed, give us the strength to carry on in these dark times, with your guidance, as heaven knows, we need it now.

The faint creaking of a door could be heard behind him but Father O' Donald was too deep in prayer to concern himself with whoever had just joined him.

And lead us not into temptation...

The sound of footsteps got slowly and slowly louder.

...but deliver us from evil...

Suddenly they stopped.

...for thine is the kingdom...

Roughly, without warning, large calloused hands placed themselves under his arms and hauled him without mercy to his feet, while another man quickly placed a black cotton bag over his head, leaving him completely without sight.

...the power and the glory...

The hands on his arms didn't remove themselves, instead they dragged him forcefully across the floor, their pace so quick his stumbling feet couldn't keep him, their grip so tight that his protests seemed to have no affect whatsoever.

...forever and ever...

He had no idea what happened as the brutal hands continued to pull, before they came to a sudden halt, and he could feel his body being hauled into a large van of some sort. He could smell the pungent exhaust fumes, even through the thick bag, and his hands fell on some sort of seat, which he was then roughly forced onto.

"Stay there," Came a gruff, abrasive voice in the darkness, as tight, binding handcuffs were placed on his wrists. "Don't make any sort of shit, or there'll be trouble,"

Those were the last words he heard as the van doors were slammed shut and a foot was placed on the exhaust.

...Amen.

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Alicia Gilbert had no idea what had happened; it was all such a blur that it was difficult to distinguish one moment from another.

The last clear memory she had was finding a quiet space to have a quick cigarette before the cameras resumed rolling, when all of a sudden someone had grabbed her from behind, placed a filthy bag over her head and shoved her in the back of this now moving van. She had tried to keep her initial thoughts light-hearted; maybe this was just a planned surprise, it had been her birthday two weeks ago, maybe her friends had waited until she least expected it to throw her a surprise party. But she knew she was just fooling herself. The way the man had grabbed her was so rough and so forceful, and how she had been shoved about indicated this wasn't initiated by someone who liked her very much. However she knew how to keep herself calm, not let herself descend into hysteria. Being a news correspondant in Gotham meant she had seen things far worse than this; she was one of the first on the scene when Brian Douglas's corpse was dangled off the side of the Wayne Building, and had seen first hand the destruction reaped upon Gotham by the Joker. She could handle whoever was pulling this little stunt.

Besides, she could also hear over the hum of the car, quite a lot of heavy breathing around her in the van, indicating she wasn't alone, and that everyone around her was just as terrified as her. Suddenly, a hoarse voice broke through the unnerving silence, and it took her a second to realize it was coming from the man next to her.

"What's happening-"

"Be quiet you piece of shit!" He was immediately cut off by an angry voice from the front of the van and no one dared open their mouth to respond with questions. To the other side of Alicia, she could faintly hear gentle muffled sobs, and in response, gently moved her handcuffed hand so it tightly clutched the hand next to hers. The other hand responded with a gentle squeeze and the two people, previous to this bizarre situation complete strangers, sat there silently, hand in hand, listening to the gentle buzzing of the van's engine, which filled the air.

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Suddenly the van came to a stop, and everyone inside lurched forward, desperately clutching anything or anyone they could find for support. The loud click of the opening of the van doors could be heard and, after what felt like an extremely long time in darkness, light began to seep through the holes in their sacks.

"Alright, everyone do as their told and no one'll get hurt, ok?"

The man spoke again. A few nods could be made out from underneath the black masks, but his fellow men had already started hauling the various citizens out of the van, grabbing them roughly by the arm, not really caring if they stumbled or fell, and dragging them along the broken tarmac. Rose could hear the sound of tumbling footsteps all around her, even a few cries as people couldn't contain their shock and how scared they were anymore. She could feel bruises forming on her arms as whoever was holding her tightened their grip, as she stumbled clumsily up some stairs. God knows where they were now. The knot in her stomach tightened, and her voice felt so hoarse that she couldn't have cried out or told the man to be a bit gentler even if she had wanted to. Suddenly she was aware of a door being opened and being pushed through it, into a building of some sort she supposed. The man kept his steady grip on her arm, and she began to feel slightly nauseous from the disgusting smell of cigarettes, booze and cheap gasoline reeking from every pore in the man's body. That most certainly was not a good sign. She struggled against the handcuffs that bit tightly into her wrists but realized it was no use. They were on good and tight.

Suddenly she felt two rough hands push her over and she fell to the floor, landing slap bang on her knees. Before she could even yell out in pain, the bag was ripped from over her head and her eyes blinked, adjusting to the light. She was in a large, dank room, with walls that appeared to once have been painted orange but now had faded to a sickly apricot colour. Overall it had the feeling of a cheap motel, and it was heavy with the smell of sweat and gasoline. There were no windows in this huge room, so harsh lights had been put overheard, illuminating everything and everyone in a sort of terrifying glow.

Now that her eyes were fully focused, she could see more people being shoved into the room, while others sat nervously on the floor, as the men who had brought them here, stood behind them, somewhat menacingly. Everyone in here looked just as terrified as she was; there were people of all ages. A young woman, who couldn't have been much older than her, sat cradling her head in the corner, tears streaming down her face. Next to her sat a woman she recognized from TV, Alicia Gilbert, who reported for Gotham Night. While her face held a stoic expression, Rose noticed Alicia's left hand was trembling slightly. On the other side of her was a man who was clearly a priest, whose dazed expression was impossible to read, and next to him were two men, who were clearly high paid city workers, judging by their tailored suits and Rolex watches. One was sweating profusely, while the other rubbed his neck tenderly, blinking his eyes as if he had just been woken from sleep.

All in all there were 13 people in the room, however a few more were still being brought in. Suddenly, there was a collective intake of breath as the last person was shoved forcefully in; a child. A girl, to be precise, and no older than 11, estimated Father McDonald. Her big green eyes watered, with big red rings around her eyes from where she had been crying. Her frail, skinny body trembled from shock, and instead of handcuffs her wrists had been bound with rope, presumably as there had been no handcuffs that fit her tiny wrists. As much as he tried to contain his anger, he couldn't. What kind of person abducts an 11 year old, he thought, what kind of inhumane person.

The young girl brought the total to 16, and the door was shut with a slam by the last kidnapper, who went and stood tentatively behind Rose. No one spoke; no one dared. The only noise was a few people who had taken to crying as silently as they could. All of a sudden, the lights flickered, and a few cut out, as footsteps could be heard approaching the room from the opposite side. Then a voice was heard that was well known to all of them.

"Tonight, ladies and gentleman, you are the lucky contestants to take part in what I call, a little social experiment..."

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