April 21
Music: "You'll never walk alone" - Wembley Legend
Mood: Rested
<<"Scorpion - are you clear to talk?">>
"Yep - just me and a cold breeze here at the moment."
<<"I've found one of the two mystery men, but I don't think he's going to be much help.">>
Great. "Why's that?"
<<"He's in Arkham.">>
Beautiful. Just beautiful. With my luck, of course, he'll be the one I need to talk to. "Understood. I think I hear my date coming - should I turn off comms and spare you the pain?"
<<"No, keep it open - I'm really sorry this is necessary.">>
"You and me both." The brown door to my left opens, and Casey struts out with a grin. He kisses me on the cheek, and I repress my simultaneous urges to throw up and hit him with a heavy object.
"Ready to go, babe?"
"Whenever you are." He extends his arm and I take it with a barely disguised shiver.
Okay, in case you hadn't guessed - we're going with the oldest trick in the book to start off with. Pretend to be interested in the little weasel and hope that some alcohol and the thought of sex might loosen his lips a bit. And it had better work - letting him touch me is going to require a bath in paint thinner...
He leads me to his little crotch-rocket motorcycle and I climb on behind him, putting my arms around him for lack of any handles or anything else to hold onto. He takes off and gets up to eighty as we zip through the eternal gridlock of Gotham. I valiantly try not to lose my lunch, and just when I think I'm going to lose that battle after all he pulls into the parking lot...of a taco bell? I tell him to take me somewhere fancy and he takes me to a taco bell? See, this is why I don't date guys...well, okay, it's not, but it sounds good at the moment.
Like the true gentleman that he is, he walks in ahead of me and doesn't bother holding the door. On top of that, he proceeds to order for me. And I smile like some simpering idiot and tell him he got just what I wanted, how did he know? I look away for a second as he grabs the tray of food, but my eyes flick back toward him as he opens the lid of my soda and drops something in it. So...that's how it's going to be, is it? He finds us a table in the back and as we're sitting, I point out a car in the parking lot and tell him how dreamy I think it is. As he looks, I switch our drinks. He doesn't seem to notice - this might not be as tough as I thought.
Halfway through the "meal," his head's starting to nod. I don't know he put in that drink - whether it was GHB, or Rohypnol, or something else altogether, but he's definitely out of it. I pray he's out of it enough to tell the truth...
"Casey! Casey, can you tell me something?"
"Shure, shweetie," he slurs.
"Do you know where I could get juice?"
"Kinna juice you wan'?"
I figure I might as well go for broke. "The kind that gives me superpowers."
His head snaps up, and for a second I worry I've pushed too hard. But his eyes aren't accusing - he looks utterly terrified. "You don' even wanna joke 'bout that shtuff!"
"Why? Have you used it?"
"Shit, no - I ain't crazhy..."
"Do you know someone who did?"
"I...jus' one guy..." his head bobs once, twice, and he passes out in his fries supreme. Shit! He's going to be no good for information when he wakes up, so there's no point waiting around. I leave him there at the table once I'm sure he's not going to drown in sour cream - somebody'll find him eventually. I grab a taxi outside and use the cell I'm carrying as cover for talking to Oracle.
"Well, that was a complete waste of time."
<<"What happened to him all of a sudden?">>
"Tried to drug my drink. I swapped him."
She chuckles - the sound sends a shiver up my spine, and I wiggle a little bit on the seat. <<"I'm glad you caught him. So - it wasn't him, I think we can assume.">>
"Yeah, safe bet."
<<"So, what's your next move?">>
"Well, it's either move on to the second guy or skip him and go to...well," I amend with a look at the cab driver, "go for a visit."
<<"Preference?">>
"Well, given that I'll probably end up out there at some point, let's start there."
<<"I'll hack them tonight - there'll be a visitor's pass waiting for you at the front desk under the name Nancy Smith.">>
"Excellent - thanks. Have a good night, okay?" the last is out of my mouth automatically. There's a long hesitation on the other end.
<<"You too.">>
I flip my cell closed and toggle the switch on my necklace, just in time for the driver to pull up outside my temporary living quarters. I find my bed, never bothering with a light, and fall gratefully into it.
Arkham Asylum. The name alone sends shivers up the spine of the most hardened. I guess, though, that if you're going to attempt to be a do-gooder in this town, you're destined to have to walk the halls of this place at some point or another. I arrive shortly after visiting hours begin, picking up my forged credentials at the front desk and following my guide until we reach a long hallway. There are cells on either side, menacing in the soft light. The orderly who's guided me waves vaguely toward the other end of the hall.
"Down there. Fourth door on your left. Stay inside the lines, and don't stop."
"Wha - you're not staying?"
"Nope. If you have a problem, use your emergency call button." I finger the device hanging around my neck, wondering how the hell I get myself into these things. The guide walks away, his steps silenced by his crepe sole shoes, and in moments he's vanished. I stand there alone for a long moment, gathering my courage, and then start down the hall. I keep my eyes cast down, and my feet inside the bright yellow lines on the floor, until I pass the second set of cells and a laugh reaches my ears. Unable to stop myself, I look to my left - and there, behind twelve inches of bulletproof glass, is The Joker.
He meets my gaze, and his laugh becomes maniacal. "I don't know you," he says between fits of laughter, "but there's something...funny about you!" he peals laughter, and the sound of it rings through the silent hall. It's an assault on my already-jangled nerves.
<<"Don't engage him,">> Oracle says in my ear. Given that he's the one who put her in that chair, it astounds me that she can be so calm.
"Someone should have killed you," I mutter as I start walking again. There's a muffled thud from my left, and I barely restrain an unlady-like shriek as I see he's thrown himself against the glass, his hideous grin seeming to take up half of his head.
"Would you like to try?" his voice is deadly quiet now. "Let me out and we'll just see." Without replying, I lower my head and resume my walk. Behind me, he laughs again. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, I reach the cell I'm looking for.
"Carter? Donald Carter?"
One look at his eyes and I decide I've wasted my time. He's sitting in the lotus position in the middle of his cell, and he stares blankly at me. I've come all this way, though, so I might as well try.
"I need to ask you about the juice." That gets his attention, but not in exactly the way I'd hoped. He staggers to his feet and shuffles to the back of his cell, where he begins to bang his head on the padded wall. "Donald? Do you know something about it? "Could you tell me what you know?"
"Bad!" he shouts. "Good then bad!"
Right. That helped a lot. "Oracle, was there anything in his records about his being...I don't know, catatonic or something? He's just banging his head against the wall and talking nonsense."
<<"I'd have mentioned that if there was.">>
"What's he in for?"
<<"Cops found him at the scene of a botched bank robbery. Two hostages were killed, and he was soaked in blood. There was no proof that he was responsible, though.">>
"So why'd they bring him here?"
<<"He kept offering different explanations of what had happened at the bank - every one of them made less sense than the one before. The court decided that since they couldn't prove he wasn't responsible for those two deaths, and he couldn't explain who or what was responsible, it might be safer just to stick him in Arkham. This near-catatonia is new. It's not mentioned on any of his doctors' reports, and there was one filed as recently as yesterday. They said he was talkative but fairly nonsensical, same as before.">>
"Well, that's awfully coincidental."
<<"I'd say. Someone knows you're on their trail, I think. Head on home, and I'll work on accessing their surveillance cameras. See if anyone's paid Mr. Carter a visit in the last twenty-four hours.">>
"Alright," I sigh with frustration, rubbing the bridge of my nose to stave off the headache that I can feel coming. Leaving Donald to his muttering, I make my way back down the hall. I can't help but look at the Joker's cell, and he's looking right back at me.
"You have a bird in your ear," he cackles. "What's it saying?"
<<"Scorpion, don't. Just keep walking.">> I should - I know that I should - but I stop all the same.
"It's saying that it's too bad you're still breathing."
"What a nasty little birdie it must be!" he cackles. "What sort of birdie would say that about me?"
<<"Scorpion, please - don't do this. Don't get sucked into talking to him. Just walk away. Walk away now.">>
"I think any bird would say that - or anyone with a bit of humanity, for that matter."
"Really? And what would that little birdie say if your dear old pal The Joker could tell you who visited that cell down there?"
That stops me cold. <<"Scorpion - he's playing with you. This is what he does - it's all he does. For christ's sake, please just leave.">> I reach up and toggle the switch on my necklace, turning her voice off.
"What do you know?"
"Oh, ho! A minute ago I shouldn't have been breathing! Now I'm your best pal? Not nice - not," he steps right up to the glass, "at all funny."
I repress a shiver - I've never felt a presence like this before, evil without cause or reason. Swallowing my fear, I step up to the glass and meet his gaze. His green hair is shockingly bright, his chalky face and red lips seeming to glow in the lights of his cell. His eyes are unreadable - they seem to swallow the light like miniature black holes. He stares at me, and it's like the air has gone out of the room. Finally he whispers to me. "Did you turn off your little birdie?"
"Yes."
"Good. Too many cooks and all that. So, you want to know who visited our friend Donald, do you?"
"You know I do."
"Good, good. And what are you prepared to do for that information?"
"I...I don't know. What is it that you want?"
He laughs loudly, and I have to fight the urge to take a step back. "What do I want? A ticket to the circus, a dozen balloons and the blood of the innocent on my hands! But I doubt that you can get me any of those things. So I want you to touch your nose."
"What?"
"Touch your nose. With your right index finger."
"Why?"
"Do you know what real power is, little pal? It's making people do what you want and making them think that they want to. I don't have that power in here. So you're going to help me remember what it's like."
With a mental shrug, I do as he asks. "Good!" he's nearly dancing with glee. "Now pat your head and rub your stomach!" I do, and his laughter grows louder. We get to standing on one foot before I run out of patience.
"Enough! Are you going to tell me what you know, or not?"
"Oh, why not - you've been a good playmate. He was dressed like a doctor, but he doesn't work here. He was about...oh, let's say six feet, shaggy blond hair. There was a tattoo on his left arm that looked like a dragon eating its' own tail. Now..." he lowers his voice and I lean forward to hear him. "GO GET HIM!" he screams, and I fall backward, landing hard on my ass. He screams laughter. "I'll remember you," he says when he's stopped laughing. "I like you. Take care now!" He turns away, and I slink back to the guard station, sheepishly rubbing my rather sore behind.
Oracle is screaming at the top of her lungs as I turn the comms back on. I let her shout for a minute before I break in.
"I'm here - stop yelling, please."
"Jessie?" she breathes, forgetting my codename for a moment. "I was two heartbeats from sending your mother in after you! What's wrong with you? Why would you...god. Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I got some information from him, too."
"It wasn't worth it - there's always a better way than dealing with him." She exhales loudly. "What've you got?" I give her the description, and she types rapidly. There's a beep from her end.
"Got something?"
"Checking - yes. I found an image match - it's the other name from your list. The one we couldn't find."
"Yes! Where is he?"
Oracle is silent.
"Oracle? Where is he?"
"At his job. The one he has when he's not out selling drugs or whatever he does for the Bloodrain."
"Which is? Don't leave me in suspense here!"
"Associate Editor, Gotham Tribune."
Okay - I'm trying to get this story done, I really am. But my hand needs a break again. I'll be back in a bit - help yourself to some coffee and biscuits while you wait...
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