i_witchblade narrative .backdated to the night of jack's arrest.
Dropping Jack off at the station, Sara had made sure the Joker was identified and secured before even moving from the place. He was under high security and passed along to the local jail. Whatever happened to him from there, Detective Pezzini could have cared less. She had a job to do, couldn’t just baby-sit and escort some psycho. And knowing how the prison facilities worked in her world, she could guess that some of the procedures were the same. Solitary confinement would hold him, more than likely.
Her partner was left to escort Jack along with the other choice officers sitting around. Though she wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without him, Sara really wasn’t one to follow orders so well.
Going against the orders to sit still and wait around for news of what had happened, Sara got right up from behind her desk and headed for her squad car. No way was she going to let some other homicide detective steal her case. Thundering down the stairs of the department, she loaded into her car. Moments later she was on her way back to the Asylum, speeding as always.
Sara was at Arkham within twenty minutes, and came to an abrupt stop right where she’d been parked a few hours before. By now it was the middle of the night and the whole place had probably been checked for danger, so Sara just stepped out and headed over to the front doors of the place. When stopped by other officers or SWAT, she would lift her badge and show that she was supposed to be there.
Apparently, at a lot of crime scenes, homicide detectives got whatever they wanted. A perk of the job.
She refused help, and anyone who tried to follow her was abruptly told off. Sara wasn’t in the mood to deal with anyone, especially people who felt like hawking about and trying to protect her. That was what the Witchblade was for, not some average day-to-day patrol officer.
It was only a few minutes until she found the bodies. Oh god, did it ever smell by that point. And as many murders, suicides, deaths and unusual things she’d seen, she was still shocked at the sight of it all. In her professional opinion, she would have called it a massacre. Insane killings left and right, carcasses floating in blood and the stench of mass murder were all that Sara could take in. She was shocked, to say the least, as she came upon them. Trudging through the disgusting sight before her, Pezzini could have sworn she saw a bit of a signature to all of the bodies:
All of the bodies had their sculls broken in. Or at least, the ones she could see. Most killers always left a calling card, and apparently, this would be classified as the Joker’s. Sara took note of it, but continued her search. Jake would be here somewhere, able to fill her in on everything they’d discovered so far. For some reason, she wasn’t in the mood to go snooping around for evidence they’d already found. Probably because of the massive amounts of bodies she had to sort through.
There were at least a hundred dead, if not more, inside the asylum. Each and every one of them had their heads knocked in, but they were otherwise not very similar to the next. There were clumps that had been cut, others who’d been savagely beaten, and others who had no apparent injury other than the head wound. Jack had probably done it with something blunt, like a wooden bat, or something similar in nature.
She stepped through the hallways, guessing which way to go at every intersection. She had the sneaking suspition that she'd never get out, and that she'd be lost in the massive asylum forever. But by following the trail of bodies that Jack had left behind, Sara eventually made it out to Arkham's courtyard. And if she were disgusted by the smell that was inside the place, well... Let's just say that she wasn't expecting it to be so bad. Sure, bodies that were burned tended to smell awful, but the amount of bodies that had to have been burnt to create that smell? It made the ever-tough Sara Pezzini want to vomit.
And not too long after, once she'd taken a look at the wreck of the place, she headed to the side of the courtyard. Nobody was around to see her when she bent and heaved the contents of her dinner. It was the first time she'd broken since she was a rookie. Congratulations, Jack Napier. Your insanity broke her streak.