Post by suzy on Mar 11, 2012 16:35:04 GMT -5
Harley
I bounce between another hospital and Arkham. The hospital is all paperwork, determining if their patients are in need of further treatment. I see a lot of drug addicts and suicide failures and then some just plain crazy ones that stick strange objects where the sun doesn't shine. People end up in the hospital for all kinds of weird reasons. That's not even the interesting part of my job though. I hate that job, but that helps pay my rent. It's soul-crushing horrible though. I'm sure I could find other ways to make the money but right now this is how things work.
Going to Arkham brightens my day a little. For as horrible as the place is, the patients are more challenging and maybe I like the element of danger it poses. My qualifications, well, it's more like my training that I did during college in some mixed-martial-arts that made me a little more qualified to deal with the dangerous men and women here. I've had a time or two where I've been lunged at and I've had to defend myself. The sad thing was I was sometimes more effective than security.
I had a good touch with the patients here. There are some that couldn't work with the other doctors that actually open up to me. Maybe because I treat them like they're human. That's not so hard to do but it's amazing how horrible some people can be.
I had stacks of paperwork, files and notes I was in the process of transcribing on the computer for my own electronic records. Some of them didn't make much sense. I note -everything-. Every little quirk or like or dislikes. It always helps in the end to find better suited therapy treatments. I'm finding that the books and the published studies don't help much, I've had to come up with a lot of my own treatments while here. To say that was have unique patients is an understatement.
The Bat seems to be dragging in nuttier nuts every day.
Batman
In some ways, perhaps many, the life of Batman was a lot less complicated than that of Bruce Wayne. He had let his walls to fall for a mere moment and found the two lives becoming one, it made him weak and it'd nearly cost him as life - His and Helena's - but those thoughts were banished as he watched from the building top of Arkham Asylum, the place is familiar to him, he'd walked its halls as Bruce Wayne and made several monetary contributions as well as sent more than his fare share of psychotic criminals to its dark, eerie halls.
The wind pulled at his long black cloak as he watched the lone figure hurry across the parking lot to her car. He'd done his homework, searched for the Asylum's employee who could feed him the most sensitive information and also had daily access to the prisoners. he had contacts in Gotham PD but he needed contacts in all sectors of Gotham's corrupt and tainted justice system. He looked out over the city, the dark pointed buildings, the twisted faces of Gargoyles scowling into the night. Predators that watched from above, symbolizing the predators below, the filth, the street criminals that he fought against, nearly as pointless as trying to fight back a wave. It would crash all around you and you might remain standing, but the under tow... The undertow was more difficult to fight.
She had reached her car, her hands fumbling for the keys, arms stacked with file folders. Bruce dropped from the roof falling silently to the pavement below, his cloak billowing out and slowing his fall. He drew himself up, she hadn't heard him, the door was open and she was putting her files in the passenger side.
"Harleen Quinzel" It was a statement, not a question, when she turned, she would find the bat himself, face hidden behind his cowl save for his jaw that was set in a stern expression that gave nothing away. His eyes seemed to almost glow a white beneath the mask. He didn't ask if she knew who he was, not out of arrogance that everyone knew the Bat when they saw him, but because it mattered little and explanations were not what he had come here for. "I need some information on a patient" his voice rasped into the cool air of the Gotham spring.
"Wil Wheatley, the cultist. I know he's in your ward and under your care."
Harley
"OHMIGAWD!"
I didn't need some gravely creep coming behind me in the parking lot, despite what he was asking the pure shock and fear was enough to set me right on edge, grabbing the closest thing I had for a weapon.
"FREEZE!"
That was....I was holding the umbrella out like it was a gun and nearly jumped when the damn thing opened up instead of firing a bullet.
I knew who it was pretty instantly. He was the cause of a lot of pains and nightmares for my patients over the years. In fact, it's a small wonder he's not locked up with them. He really is quite as mental as them. A man with some means and connections hopping around the city and scooping up the criminals and half scaring harmless cute doctors half to DEATH.
"Oh. YOU. Let me know if you have any luck with that."
I struggled to get the umbrella to collapse...maybe I could still whack him with it. He's just a man, why does everyone think he's super human or something like that.
"You should know as I am their trusted doctor that I am not allowed, and there's oh so many rules and laws, to give you that information because of doctor patient confidentiality. So unless you start working for the Police Department, and that would be a HOOT, or the State..."
I shut the door to the car with my rear and crossed my arms over my chest. I'm not sure it made me feel any safer but he doesn't go around beating up doctors, now does he?
"....No. I'm sorry. I can't give you that information."
Batman
He didn't move at all as she pulled the umbrella from her car and brandished it like a gun. His eyes lowered to it as it popped open. Not much of a weapon. She was struggling to close the umbrella whilst displaying her displeasure at his presence and his request. Problem was, he wasn't asking. Batman never asked anyone for anything, they did as he told them and he wasn't about to let some half-cocked child of a doctor withhold information that could very well save the lives of the few innocence that remained in Gotham. People like herself.
Batman's eyes raised back to her face and he glowered. It didn't seem as though he was used to people denying him what he wanted. The truth was, he could simply take what he needed if he had to. However, he knew that maintaining diplomatic relations with people in positions like Quinzel would significant simplify an otherwise complicated and illegal task of obtaining said information.
"I'm fully aware of the law." He rasped as she put the umbrella aside. If only she knew just how high his contacts in the police department ran. The chief of police himself was among a short list of people he trusted to issue good information that he needed to put maniacs like the Trigon cultists behind bars; where they deserved to be. Rotting. "The information you have could very save lives, doctor. Wheatley is a dangerous man and his brothers are even moreso, they're the ones free to roam the streets and victimize people like yourself. Give me what I need or have their blood on your hands, doctor. It's that simple."
Upholding the law occasionally meant breaking it, as ironic as it sounded. But as a vigilante he could go places and do things a police officer couldn't. They were bound by superiors and courts, Batman was not hindered by such processes that were designed to protect the very criminals that it should be convicting.
"Time is short, doctor. I have it on good authority the brotherhood of Trigon plans to move within the next few days. Their plans include sacrificing a living person to their psychotic beliefs."
Harley
"No."
I was pretty firm about that. I wasn't going to go back on things I agreed to just because the big Batman was up in my face trying to bully it out of me.
"You're just a bully. You're just as bad off as the people inside. You think you can march up to me and get what you want even though it would cost my my job and my livelihood. There are men and women in there that trust me. Men and women that YOU have a decent amount of blame for breaking."
I have no concerns at all about jabbing my fingers at his chest, stepping forward and getting him the hell away from my car.
"I deal with the Crocs, The Mad Hatters, the Riddlers. Not some....whoever. It wasn't my case anyways so you're barking up the wrong tree. They're the least of your worries when you have a public official showing up dead, right? Or are you not the least bit interested in that? Oh, it doesn't matter because the other one was a KID and the other two were waste of space criminals. If you think there's going to be a lot of death...you're absolutely right. Is it on my hands? No. I'm mending the broken here, I'm trying to rehabilitate those you've dropped off and got locked up. Sad thing is? THEY DON'T WANT TO LEAVE."
I could hit him. I really could. It was wonderful to finally let it all out, let it all loose on him. I've wanted to tell him this to his face for so long. I wanted to defend those that couldn't even think about him without having a panic attack.
"I sincerely hope someone gives you a taste of your own medicine."
Batman
"If your job and livelihood saves the life of even one person, it's a small sacrifice to make, doctor. If I were a bully we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation." As insane as the one's inside? Maybe. As bad? He wasn't so sure. Her finger prodded him in his armored chest but he stood his ground. She had balls, he gave her that. But this game was growing wearisome and time was not on their side. "Some would call it selfish, doctor. You're protecting the rights of murderers, rapists and criminals. The worst humanity has to offer. One of those men inside those walls is plotting a wide scale sacrifice of human beings. I can't let that happen. Won't let it happen. So you'll excuse me doctor if your job and livelihood are minor concerns in the big picture here."
He wasn't here to debate, nor answer to the judgement and questions of a woman too afraid of losing her job to save the lives of others. People like her were how two murderers had gunned down the parents of a small boy outside a theatre infront of dozens of witnesses, yet, not a single one could remember anything about their attackers.
"They don't deserve your sympathy nor your pity. You're right, they are the least of my worries, when they are safely locked away and entirely my concern when they are walking the streets killing, robbing and corrupting. You think you can rehabilitate The Riddler? Croc? Better therapists than you have tried. And failed." His eyes narrowed. She was talking to him of these people? What did she know?
"Your self righteous rhetoric is going to get people killed while you 'mend the broken'. Remember that, Doctor Quinzel. When the Chosen of Trigon let the streets run red with the blood of innocent men and women, you remember, you could have stopped it."
he wouldn't stop her from leaving, if he did, if he physically took what he wanted, then she would be right. He'd be no better than the one's she was misguidedly protecting. She was simply doing what her job demanded of her, the law, but what good were they when it meant the lives of others would be lost?
"Very well. You've made your choice. I only hope you can live with it."
Harley
I reached into my red trench coat to pull out a card, flicking it at him and letting it fall to the ground. Maybe it was a message. Maybe it was a reminder. He's worried about mass sacrifice? His priorities are a bit screwed up.
I'm being self righteous? I chose this job, I didn't chose to slip into some spandex, pull on a cape and kick people's faces in.
"You've already written them off, so have a lot of people. It's my job to give them hope, it's my job to remind them that they're people and not monsters. Their madness drove them to do those things. You keep forgetting that they're sick. I heal the sick. Not every doctor works on diseases you can see. I sleep just fine. I get so much joy and pride out of my work because it's a very sad world when no one else has the faith that they can get better. You're a sad little Batman."
I turned around on my heel, letting that Ace of Spades sit there on the lot while I walked back towards my car. I was angry. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to see him locked up, how can he even talk like that? Of course he's messed up. He's a sick fuck too, problem is he's a sick fuck on a power trip.
Batman
"You can't save them. You won't. You're only condemning others to be their future victims. I wrote them off becuase I know them, better than you ever could. I have seen them at their absolute worst, the unvarnished truth. They reveled in the destruction and hurt they caused. Some say evil doesn't exist, that it is merely a matter of perspective. Well, doctor Quinzel, I've looked that evil straight in the eye and seen it for what it is. There is no lament, no regret. Each time you set them free, inevitably, they all go back to the only life they know how to live. The only life they want to live. So while they sit in their cell and telling their tree hugging doctor how 'sick' and how 'sorry' they are for all that they've done... They'll do it again. And again. And again. And each time they return some apologist doctor who doesn't know what they have done, the hurt they have caused first hand will blame it on Batman, how terrible he is."
There was some sense in what she was saying, he did not argue that. He thought her naive to the reality of these types of men, how easily they lied and manipulated. He was sorry she couldn't see that. Sorry she couldn't see evil existed, even when she looked it in the face everyday. Would she prefer he did not exist? That he simply let them go on killing, raping, corrupting? Would Gotham really be better off? He hadn't started this, he wasn't the first to don a mask and prowl the streets his existence was an answer to a preexisting problem of crime and corruption. Some would never understand that, Bruce had to resign himself to that no matter how much is chaffed him.
"Perhaps someday someone will." He said in even tones, the argument was over, she wasn't going to help him. he would have to find another way. Perhaps a more just man would come, a better one free from the experiences that molded his life into what it was. Her card sank into a puddle on the ground and snow started to fall around them.
Harleen turned away from him and when she turned back to say one last thing all she found was empty air where he had been standing. The card she had thrown at him stirred listlessly in the crescendo of wind building up. There was going to be a storm that night.
I bounce between another hospital and Arkham. The hospital is all paperwork, determining if their patients are in need of further treatment. I see a lot of drug addicts and suicide failures and then some just plain crazy ones that stick strange objects where the sun doesn't shine. People end up in the hospital for all kinds of weird reasons. That's not even the interesting part of my job though. I hate that job, but that helps pay my rent. It's soul-crushing horrible though. I'm sure I could find other ways to make the money but right now this is how things work.
Going to Arkham brightens my day a little. For as horrible as the place is, the patients are more challenging and maybe I like the element of danger it poses. My qualifications, well, it's more like my training that I did during college in some mixed-martial-arts that made me a little more qualified to deal with the dangerous men and women here. I've had a time or two where I've been lunged at and I've had to defend myself. The sad thing was I was sometimes more effective than security.
I had a good touch with the patients here. There are some that couldn't work with the other doctors that actually open up to me. Maybe because I treat them like they're human. That's not so hard to do but it's amazing how horrible some people can be.
I had stacks of paperwork, files and notes I was in the process of transcribing on the computer for my own electronic records. Some of them didn't make much sense. I note -everything-. Every little quirk or like or dislikes. It always helps in the end to find better suited therapy treatments. I'm finding that the books and the published studies don't help much, I've had to come up with a lot of my own treatments while here. To say that was have unique patients is an understatement.
The Bat seems to be dragging in nuttier nuts every day.
Batman
In some ways, perhaps many, the life of Batman was a lot less complicated than that of Bruce Wayne. He had let his walls to fall for a mere moment and found the two lives becoming one, it made him weak and it'd nearly cost him as life - His and Helena's - but those thoughts were banished as he watched from the building top of Arkham Asylum, the place is familiar to him, he'd walked its halls as Bruce Wayne and made several monetary contributions as well as sent more than his fare share of psychotic criminals to its dark, eerie halls.
The wind pulled at his long black cloak as he watched the lone figure hurry across the parking lot to her car. He'd done his homework, searched for the Asylum's employee who could feed him the most sensitive information and also had daily access to the prisoners. he had contacts in Gotham PD but he needed contacts in all sectors of Gotham's corrupt and tainted justice system. He looked out over the city, the dark pointed buildings, the twisted faces of Gargoyles scowling into the night. Predators that watched from above, symbolizing the predators below, the filth, the street criminals that he fought against, nearly as pointless as trying to fight back a wave. It would crash all around you and you might remain standing, but the under tow... The undertow was more difficult to fight.
She had reached her car, her hands fumbling for the keys, arms stacked with file folders. Bruce dropped from the roof falling silently to the pavement below, his cloak billowing out and slowing his fall. He drew himself up, she hadn't heard him, the door was open and she was putting her files in the passenger side.
"Harleen Quinzel" It was a statement, not a question, when she turned, she would find the bat himself, face hidden behind his cowl save for his jaw that was set in a stern expression that gave nothing away. His eyes seemed to almost glow a white beneath the mask. He didn't ask if she knew who he was, not out of arrogance that everyone knew the Bat when they saw him, but because it mattered little and explanations were not what he had come here for. "I need some information on a patient" his voice rasped into the cool air of the Gotham spring.
"Wil Wheatley, the cultist. I know he's in your ward and under your care."
Harley
"OHMIGAWD!"
I didn't need some gravely creep coming behind me in the parking lot, despite what he was asking the pure shock and fear was enough to set me right on edge, grabbing the closest thing I had for a weapon.
"FREEZE!"
That was....I was holding the umbrella out like it was a gun and nearly jumped when the damn thing opened up instead of firing a bullet.
I knew who it was pretty instantly. He was the cause of a lot of pains and nightmares for my patients over the years. In fact, it's a small wonder he's not locked up with them. He really is quite as mental as them. A man with some means and connections hopping around the city and scooping up the criminals and half scaring harmless cute doctors half to DEATH.
"Oh. YOU. Let me know if you have any luck with that."
I struggled to get the umbrella to collapse...maybe I could still whack him with it. He's just a man, why does everyone think he's super human or something like that.
"You should know as I am their trusted doctor that I am not allowed, and there's oh so many rules and laws, to give you that information because of doctor patient confidentiality. So unless you start working for the Police Department, and that would be a HOOT, or the State..."
I shut the door to the car with my rear and crossed my arms over my chest. I'm not sure it made me feel any safer but he doesn't go around beating up doctors, now does he?
"....No. I'm sorry. I can't give you that information."
Batman
He didn't move at all as she pulled the umbrella from her car and brandished it like a gun. His eyes lowered to it as it popped open. Not much of a weapon. She was struggling to close the umbrella whilst displaying her displeasure at his presence and his request. Problem was, he wasn't asking. Batman never asked anyone for anything, they did as he told them and he wasn't about to let some half-cocked child of a doctor withhold information that could very well save the lives of the few innocence that remained in Gotham. People like herself.
Batman's eyes raised back to her face and he glowered. It didn't seem as though he was used to people denying him what he wanted. The truth was, he could simply take what he needed if he had to. However, he knew that maintaining diplomatic relations with people in positions like Quinzel would significant simplify an otherwise complicated and illegal task of obtaining said information.
"I'm fully aware of the law." He rasped as she put the umbrella aside. If only she knew just how high his contacts in the police department ran. The chief of police himself was among a short list of people he trusted to issue good information that he needed to put maniacs like the Trigon cultists behind bars; where they deserved to be. Rotting. "The information you have could very save lives, doctor. Wheatley is a dangerous man and his brothers are even moreso, they're the ones free to roam the streets and victimize people like yourself. Give me what I need or have their blood on your hands, doctor. It's that simple."
Upholding the law occasionally meant breaking it, as ironic as it sounded. But as a vigilante he could go places and do things a police officer couldn't. They were bound by superiors and courts, Batman was not hindered by such processes that were designed to protect the very criminals that it should be convicting.
"Time is short, doctor. I have it on good authority the brotherhood of Trigon plans to move within the next few days. Their plans include sacrificing a living person to their psychotic beliefs."
Harley
"No."
I was pretty firm about that. I wasn't going to go back on things I agreed to just because the big Batman was up in my face trying to bully it out of me.
"You're just a bully. You're just as bad off as the people inside. You think you can march up to me and get what you want even though it would cost my my job and my livelihood. There are men and women in there that trust me. Men and women that YOU have a decent amount of blame for breaking."
I have no concerns at all about jabbing my fingers at his chest, stepping forward and getting him the hell away from my car.
"I deal with the Crocs, The Mad Hatters, the Riddlers. Not some....whoever. It wasn't my case anyways so you're barking up the wrong tree. They're the least of your worries when you have a public official showing up dead, right? Or are you not the least bit interested in that? Oh, it doesn't matter because the other one was a KID and the other two were waste of space criminals. If you think there's going to be a lot of death...you're absolutely right. Is it on my hands? No. I'm mending the broken here, I'm trying to rehabilitate those you've dropped off and got locked up. Sad thing is? THEY DON'T WANT TO LEAVE."
I could hit him. I really could. It was wonderful to finally let it all out, let it all loose on him. I've wanted to tell him this to his face for so long. I wanted to defend those that couldn't even think about him without having a panic attack.
"I sincerely hope someone gives you a taste of your own medicine."
Batman
"If your job and livelihood saves the life of even one person, it's a small sacrifice to make, doctor. If I were a bully we wouldn't be standing here having this conversation." As insane as the one's inside? Maybe. As bad? He wasn't so sure. Her finger prodded him in his armored chest but he stood his ground. She had balls, he gave her that. But this game was growing wearisome and time was not on their side. "Some would call it selfish, doctor. You're protecting the rights of murderers, rapists and criminals. The worst humanity has to offer. One of those men inside those walls is plotting a wide scale sacrifice of human beings. I can't let that happen. Won't let it happen. So you'll excuse me doctor if your job and livelihood are minor concerns in the big picture here."
He wasn't here to debate, nor answer to the judgement and questions of a woman too afraid of losing her job to save the lives of others. People like her were how two murderers had gunned down the parents of a small boy outside a theatre infront of dozens of witnesses, yet, not a single one could remember anything about their attackers.
"They don't deserve your sympathy nor your pity. You're right, they are the least of my worries, when they are safely locked away and entirely my concern when they are walking the streets killing, robbing and corrupting. You think you can rehabilitate The Riddler? Croc? Better therapists than you have tried. And failed." His eyes narrowed. She was talking to him of these people? What did she know?
"Your self righteous rhetoric is going to get people killed while you 'mend the broken'. Remember that, Doctor Quinzel. When the Chosen of Trigon let the streets run red with the blood of innocent men and women, you remember, you could have stopped it."
he wouldn't stop her from leaving, if he did, if he physically took what he wanted, then she would be right. He'd be no better than the one's she was misguidedly protecting. She was simply doing what her job demanded of her, the law, but what good were they when it meant the lives of others would be lost?
"Very well. You've made your choice. I only hope you can live with it."
Harley
I reached into my red trench coat to pull out a card, flicking it at him and letting it fall to the ground. Maybe it was a message. Maybe it was a reminder. He's worried about mass sacrifice? His priorities are a bit screwed up.
I'm being self righteous? I chose this job, I didn't chose to slip into some spandex, pull on a cape and kick people's faces in.
"You've already written them off, so have a lot of people. It's my job to give them hope, it's my job to remind them that they're people and not monsters. Their madness drove them to do those things. You keep forgetting that they're sick. I heal the sick. Not every doctor works on diseases you can see. I sleep just fine. I get so much joy and pride out of my work because it's a very sad world when no one else has the faith that they can get better. You're a sad little Batman."
I turned around on my heel, letting that Ace of Spades sit there on the lot while I walked back towards my car. I was angry. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to see him locked up, how can he even talk like that? Of course he's messed up. He's a sick fuck too, problem is he's a sick fuck on a power trip.
Batman
"You can't save them. You won't. You're only condemning others to be their future victims. I wrote them off becuase I know them, better than you ever could. I have seen them at their absolute worst, the unvarnished truth. They reveled in the destruction and hurt they caused. Some say evil doesn't exist, that it is merely a matter of perspective. Well, doctor Quinzel, I've looked that evil straight in the eye and seen it for what it is. There is no lament, no regret. Each time you set them free, inevitably, they all go back to the only life they know how to live. The only life they want to live. So while they sit in their cell and telling their tree hugging doctor how 'sick' and how 'sorry' they are for all that they've done... They'll do it again. And again. And again. And each time they return some apologist doctor who doesn't know what they have done, the hurt they have caused first hand will blame it on Batman, how terrible he is."
There was some sense in what she was saying, he did not argue that. He thought her naive to the reality of these types of men, how easily they lied and manipulated. He was sorry she couldn't see that. Sorry she couldn't see evil existed, even when she looked it in the face everyday. Would she prefer he did not exist? That he simply let them go on killing, raping, corrupting? Would Gotham really be better off? He hadn't started this, he wasn't the first to don a mask and prowl the streets his existence was an answer to a preexisting problem of crime and corruption. Some would never understand that, Bruce had to resign himself to that no matter how much is chaffed him.
"Perhaps someday someone will." He said in even tones, the argument was over, she wasn't going to help him. he would have to find another way. Perhaps a more just man would come, a better one free from the experiences that molded his life into what it was. Her card sank into a puddle on the ground and snow started to fall around them.
Harleen turned away from him and when she turned back to say one last thing all she found was empty air where he had been standing. The card she had thrown at him stirred listlessly in the crescendo of wind building up. There was going to be a storm that night.