By the time Blackgate Penitentiary's heavy metal gates were rammed open, the rain had stopped, but the sky remained so dark it seemed ready to crush Gotham's most heavily guarded building.
The first man out was a hulking brute with a scar on his face, known as Hank the Hammer. He had spent eight years in Blackgate for robbery, murder, and illegal possession of firearms, with thirty more to go. When those pink starfish crawled through the vents and took control of the guards one by one, he knew his chance had come.
"Brothers! We're free!" Hank waved a baton he had stolen from a guard and roared at the men behind him.
At least thirty inmates poured through the prison gates behind him. Most were violent offenders-robbers, drug dealers, professional enforcers, and a few murderers. Their eyes were bloodshot with excitement, their breathing heavy.
The prison was a wreck, inside and out. Several police cars sat crooked across the road, their doors wide open, nobody inside. Smoke rose in the distance, but there were no sirens.
"See that?" Hank grinned, showing the gaps where two front teeth were missing. "The cops are finished! Gotham's ours now!"
The drawbridge leading into the city had not been raised in time. Some grabbed bricks from the roadside, others pried open police car trunks in search of weapons, and a few were already discussing where to go first to "get some nourishment."
A little over ten minutes later, several cars packed to bursting sped toward the city amid whoops and wild laughter.
"What'd I tell you?" Hank roared at the men in the back. "Not a single cop."
He stopped the car and headed toward the nearest convenience store. Its glass door had already been smashed, shelves lay toppled, and cans and cigarettes