Darkness flooded the surrounding areas with miscellaneous strews of filth and paper waste that peppered the air. The city was dirty, at least the down town area, where most of the poor and downtrodden gathered together like penguins from the abandoning cold of the hellish metropolis. As sickening green steam rose from the open manholes and ascended into the rouge-hazed night sky, footsteps echoed down the long and narrow ramshackle streets. They were extended from rather nice shoes, too nice for this part of town, and those extended from the legs of a rather nice suit, again much too exquisite for the ghetto where they were transfixed. The man carried himself with confidence, but his shoulders were pulled inward with paranoia and certain unease. Every now and then he would steal a glance over his right shoulder as if to get a feeling of certainty that he wasn't being followed by a street urchin with an expensive desire for Armani. With every contact with the molding walkway he clutched his case closer into his chest, although if anyone came close enough to harm him he always had an ace up his sleeve, but that didn't relieve any of the anxiety.
With that thought passing through his mind, a nearby trash bin crashed over to reveal an emaciated hound. Of course with the tall cornerstone buildings that had fallen into disrepair the reflection upon all of the broken shards was enough to send him over the edge. He jumped and searched frantically for anything in the ways of an exit, he had been walking around in the darkness for an hour now. The ghetto roads were a maze of defecation and sullen faces, which acted as a moat for his destination. Sighing heavily he fell towards a nearby wall, the one that had the most hope for the least amount of disgust, to try and get his bearings. There were no street signs, there hadn't been one since the outskirts of the under dwelling. He wondered why he didn't just drive to his appointment, but with a survey of the scene he remembered that driving a car through these avenues was a plead for demise. If the inhabitants were merciful they might up and kill him in the first few minutes. Leaning his head back, he let his eyes close for a moment. The rest was definitely needed. His tall and lanky frame attracted the most unwanted of attention from the citizens of the shantytown, not to mention he was wearing accommodations similar to a traffic signal in the ways of expense.
Closing his eyes he tried to forget everything soiled around him and focus on the task at hand. He was in need of an excessive amount of a chemical compound that he couldn't possibly manufacture himself, given the time frame he was working with. Four days was the limit in which this whole operation had to be taken care of. After that it would be improper, and there would be a greater chance of an intervening by the batman that everyone had been talking about as he walked along the docks a few days prior. He remembered trolling along the waterfront, past all of the open containers ready to be packed and shipped to far away destinations, and poking around for a few extra hands when the sound of contortioning metal rang out. So loud was it that every dockhand turned on their heel and flew the other direction, as rats do from imminent danger. Caught in the sea of moving men who were a great deal larger than he, nothing could be done to prevent being cast along with the crowd. Caught as a twig in the river, bouncing along and being prodded and jutted in the ribs and back. The light faded as he got sucked down under the arms of the dockhands and he was ripped around violently. Disoriented he tried to resurface and get free of the grips of massive brutes, but instead they just dropped him and left him to rub the back of his head as he lie on the corked wooden boards. But as he did so he noticed a shadow engulf his own on the grainy wood and he jerked his head up, only to see a gigantic black cape block his view of the setting sun.
"FOUND YOU AT LAST!" a coarse voice spoke, and with that everything was blank.
Gasping short of breath, he opened his eyes to find himself still in the same grimy little street that he had been in before he decided to rest. Everything was the same as it had been. The green steam still shot up from the sewers and permeated the air with the same foul stench. Realizing that the scent wasn't salt water he brought his hand to his mouth and took in a deep breath, it didn't relieve the smell that much but it would have to do for now. He rose to his feet and brushed off what filth he could see from his suit and a bit from the topside of his shoes, after all he did have a business appointment. Grabbing his briefcase he followed the green steam up with his gaze and smiled a satisfied grin when he saw the towering form of his destination. It was as a tree in the desert, unrealistic, tall, and complete with its own gravitational pull to those of fine dressings. It was only a few strides away, close enough to be a tangible being if not an inanimate high rise. He quickened his pace and his footsteps blended into one large echo devoid of breaks. All he wanted to do now was get inside the doors and be free of the rotting life of the ghettos. Get through the doors and everything would be fine, in fact his suit may even look shabby to the man inside but that was of no concern at the moment. His pace quickened as the doors came into a clear view, out of the orange haze that had collected in the wasted streets. Just a few more steps and everything would be a relief. Just touch the handle and freedom is a reality.
The feeling of the cool steel handle was like a warm embrace. Safety was assumed as he opened one of the great heavy doors. At first it was difficult, as his footing was doubtful, but when the doorman saw that he was having trouble, AND was obviously not a citizen of the neighborhood he came and relieved the doctor of his burden. "Thank you," he said to the doorman as he brushed dust off his shoulder. Obviously there was an easier way in that he wasn't informed of because the doorman had been behind his desk for, what looked like, centuries. The little man hopped crookedly back to his little chair behind the overly large desk with RYAN in large deco lettering, and Corporation in a slightly smaller range. That, itself, was screened under an overly large cubist painting of the man in charge. Observing the distasted look on the doctor's face the little man chuckled. "Ya, that's the big man, don't worry though, they did him a kind favour in this picture. I don't think there has ever been an attractive fellow running Ryan."
Understanding what the doorman meant immediately the doctor smiled politely, "Where do you suppose I might find this man?" The little man behind the desk stared out from behind his horn-rimmed glasses. His beady eyes had a shocked look to them and a slight drip had formed on his brow. Obviously uncomfortable he replied, "Top floor," and then hunched back over his reading. The Complete Collection of Sherlock Holmes. The doctor smiled and boarded the fashionable elevator, happy to know that there was at least one book in this part of Gotham. He stood in the back of the lift looking out into the posh lobby with the atrium that rose to the thirtieth floor and beyond that through the front doors and into the wasteland of desperation. The emaciated dog from before limped by and seemed to pass through the door like a ghost and limp towards him. Luckily the doors had closed and the lift was on its way up.
The elevator climbed along for what seemed like ages until it finally rang out, as if in victory, that he had reached the top floor. The seventy-third floor to be exact, not including the roof. The gilded doors opened to each side, causing the doctor's reflection to split apart in two, extracting a Jekyll and Hyde thought from his mind. He laughed to himself as he stepped off into the foyer of a rather large port room. Looking about there were three other elevators in addition to the one he had just exited. Two of the doors looked identical to the pair that enclosed his, and the other with a bit less shine to it. Upon closer inspection there was a keyhole next to the lift button, which made sense as to be the service elevator. That meant the inside wasn't nearly as decorative as the other three, but it still beats the stairs. After all who has time for seventy-three flights of stairs? Considering that thought for a moment the doctor looked from the left to the right of the port room. To the left there was a small door that was meant to be for service and to the right there was an overly large set of French doors that led into what was assumed to be the boss' lair. His destination, and his appointment. He extended his hand and grasped the knob running his long fingers over it and turning counter clockwise. With a click it was open, revealing an overly ornate office that looked comparable to a Waldorf parlour. The flooring was all polished black oak covered here and there with intricate rugs from the orient. All of the furniture was mismatched in the stylings of the black oak frames but all coordinated in the upholstery. There was little light because of the hour, but it was apparent by the dimly lit chandelier in the center of the ceiling that in the day there was not much light either. The room was designed to be encased in eternal darkness. If one knew what the Ryan Corporation did to become a multi-million dollar company they would understand why. The walls were stained an umber red, which only added to the darkness, and the shelves behind the desk were littered with leather bound books, that were only meant to be shown off, and artifacts from underground science auditoriums. The most noticeable piece in the collection was a small human fetus suspended in now clouded yellowing formaldehyde. The desk was a grand focal point in itself, although crowded in a room filled with nothing but conversational pieces. It was an ivory chest engraved with a scene from an African hunt. Slightly awkward in this part of the world, but as was apparent by the rest of the office there was a need to show off the wealth made by this company. And naturally money cannot buy a person taste. The doctor stood in the doorway looking into the twisted face of the man in charge. Andrew Ryan. The third string of heirs to take hold of the company and noticeably the worst. It was rumoured that he had taken the company in a different direction, which is never a good idea. Conglomerates don't deal in changes. Predominantly anyway. But the most atrocious thing about this man was that he was indeed a mystery. It was rumoured that he had a child a few years ago but no one knew anything more than anyone else. The man was an expert at covering his tracks. That sort of skill usually comes with the buying and selling of high-risk chemical compounds. Andrew Ryan looked at the doctor from across the ivory table scape, he sized him up the minute then as well. His squinted eyes lined with crows feet scraped the doctor's appearance. His mouth twinged at the sight of his current fashion state, but considered the effort of going through the ghettos at this time of night in Armani. And with that it curled into a wicked smile. "Dr. Crane! Indeed it has been quite some time since I last saw you in the back of a police car," Andrew Ryan covered up a slight chuckle. The man was in a lack of a better word, unsavory. "Indeed it has been too long. Come here M'boy and have a seat." His thick hand gestured towards the seat in front of the right corner of his ghastly ivory desk. Crane gladly accepted the seat, as it was indeed a luxury to sit down after the whole journey. Of course, he took his seat very carefully as to not disrupt the scene. His thin frame perched on the edge of the chair, closer to Ryan and that twisted smile than he really desired not to be, but nonetheless this was business. Crane tapped his fingers along the edge of his case that he set on his lap, as Ryan continued his rant in that harsh smoke scratched voice of his. "Now you come to me with a favour to ask, do you not?" He peered over Crane, trying his best to loom over the doctor, "What is it you need?" Crane shifted uneasily, he was well aware of Ryan's attempt to shower his dominance upon him; he lifted his right hand to his temple and leaned against it. In a calm manner, which he knew would throw off the man's sense of control, he proposed his favour. "I need …" He was cut off by the loud BANG of Andrew Ryan's fat fist on his ivory desk. All of the little belongings that were littered on the table scape shot off in all directions and fell helplessly to the floor. A pen launched itself at Crane who simply caught it and put it back on the desk. He had prepared himself for sudden outbursts. After all that was all Andrew Ryan ever did.
Practically foaming at the mouth he shoved his finger at Crane's chest as if he was a foot away and shouted, "YOU NEED TEA!" Shocked and taken aback all Crane could do was accept the offer. It wasn't as if tea would be a hindrance. In fact a nice cup of tea would satisfy quite nicely after wandering through the ghetto walkways. A cup of class amongst the squalid. But then that was what the Ryan Building was made to be. A palace in the middle of nothing but filth, Andrew Ryan – king of the scoundrels.
Ryan gathered himself and stood firmly planted behind his desk as Crane pressed his fingertips together in a quick pace, the room had become odd in its affairs. He had come to ask a simple favour, not to be hosted. He took a quick glance at the clock behind the man's overly broad shoulders – 11:11pm. Crane rolled his head from shoulder to shoulder in a feeble attempt to release the pressure that he was beginning to feel collect in the nape of his neck. He lifted his arm to rub the spot where it was starting to sear with invisible pain. "I wish I could just get this over with. There can't be any possible reason that I should be kept he..." His thought trailed off as he heard the door behind him click open. Looking up at Ryan before turning his head around to see who had joined them, he noticed the man's face twist with disgust and condescendence. This indeed peaked his interest because the man behind the desk had been so confident and collected until that moment. His fat thumb was still crushing a small button on the backside of his table scape and was turning the most putrid shade of white, just like the maggots that had been eating the decaying flesh of a forsaken child on the way through the slums. Turning in place and glancing over the back of his chair, Crane saw a simple girl with a lean frame, hidden by her chemically coloured lab coat, approach the two of them with a rather splendid tea tray made of deep cherry wood. She held it out in front of her with a long outstretched hand as she closed the door behind her, trying hard not to make any noise. She walked as if on eggshells and was very intent on not looking Andrew Ryan directly in the face. Crane followed the woman with his eyes as she came into the center of the two men and put down the tray. Her hands were again in plain sight of Crane, and they made him take his own hands into consideration. Her's were thin and long like his, but obviously smaller and his observation there only lead his eyes up her arms and to her body. She was slender and now that she was standing a foot away he could see much better. Her skin was pale almost as if she had never been outside, but it didn't turn him away any for his skin was just as light. Her eyes were a piercing blue that stood out from under her dark hair that was cut short to her ears and worn much like a boy. Her face was the most interesting thing to him though, because at that exact moment it was filled with such worry and fear, and as she lifted the cups from the cherry wood the porcelain rattled as her hands shoke ferociously. She never looked up to either of them at any moment and it was probably for the best, for Andrew Ryan was glaring at the poor girl through heavily gritted teeth. The man was fuming with rage until he finally busted out of his chair and waved his hand in excess, "ARE YOU QUITE FINISHED ELEANOR!" Crane jumped in his chair across from the man as he yelled and noticed that he was indeed getting red in the face with unprecedented rage. He looked from Ryan, behind his desk, to Eleanor, and then to the table beside him where she had dropped his teacup. An old-fashioned name, but it did suit her. He said it in his head a few times over as to remember her face, although after this scene he didn't think he would forget it any time soon. "NOW LOOK WHAT YOU'VE DONE YOU WORTHLESS GIRL! GO FETCH ANOTHER!" Ryan shouted at Eleanor as she picked up the fragments of china with now trembling hands, "HURRY GIRL! NOW! NOW! NOW! GO!" Crane looked at the pitiful girl and then back to Ryan, steaming behind his gotti desk. With a fair amount of consideration they did look a bit similar, but nothing that could be seen immediately. She was far more attractive than the ugly brute of a man, and Crane couldn't help but feel the need to help Eleanor pick up the last few pieces of broken china off the table and out of the fragrant tea, that was now staining the black oak table. But as he reached out his right hand to help her she looked up at him and petrified him in an instant. Her eyes were so sad and shining with tears, but they were so devastatingly beautiful that Crane knew there was no way he could forget them. As he picked up a shard of the once ornate teacup Eleanor held out her long hand and spoke with the softest and most defeated tone, "Please sir, you needn't help me. It was my fault that you're now without any tea," she blushed heavily and thrust her eyes downward so that she was now looking at the floor, "I'll bring you another." "YOU BETTER!" yelled Andrew Ryan from behind his desk. Crane had almost forgot that he was even in the room for all of his attention was now focused on this woman who was so shy and determined to not make any mistakes in her politeness. He dropped his piece of broken china into her palm and she closed it in both hands, turned on her heel and started towards the door. Her shoulders shook and Crane turned back around to Ryan who fell deep into his chair with a wicked smile. Pursing his lips together and rolling his eyes he barked at Crane, "You just can't trust them to do anything these days. Not even what they are MEANT to do." At this statement Crane heard the office door open and close in one swift movement. And as Eleanor took her exit Crane didn't hear her footsteps shrink away from the door. He knew that she was right outside, which made him feel a little bit more at ease than if he had known that he was now completely alone again with the condemnable king of the scoundrals.
The man now looked completely comfortable and looked at Crane over his overpopulated table scape, littered with the pens and trinkets that had flown about when he slammed his fist down earlier. Crane shifted in his seat as he felt Ryan's eyes pierce him. After a moments pause he spoke up again. "So, Dr. Crane you come to me with a favour, do you not?" He smacked his lips together and extended out a hand to Crane gesturing him to continue with asking. Crane looked from the pudgy hand back up to Ryan's wrinkled slimy face and took a deep breath. "Well Mr. Ry.." He was once again interrupted by the man behind the desk who instructed him to address him as Andrew, for Mr. Ryan was too formal. Crane put his hand to his chin and continued, "Well … Andrew? I came to ask if Ryan Corporation could produce a chemical compound… MY compound on a large scale, an amount that would cover the city." Andrew Ryan rubbed his temple with his left hand as he ground his right hand into the ivory. He looked back to Crane with a shifty eye. The room seemed to enclose around the two of them, and Crane began to notice that Andrew had shifted from his temple to his mouth and was now biting off his yellowed thumbnail. Crane cringed at the sight of such customs and wished that Eleanor would come back so he would have something pretty to look at. "When would you need this done, Crane?" The way he said his name made Crane swallow. "Two days," he replied and with the long silence that followed he already knew the answer. Andrew Ryan began to get red in the face again and clenched his left fist so tight that the maggot white had swept over the flesh again. His eye twitched and he bit is nail clean off. "ARE YOU MAD?" he yelled, "DO YOU…Do you have any idea how long that would take?" Crane smiled calmly and gathered up his briefcase, "Don't worry. I'm sure I can find someone else, someone BETTER who could do it for me." Oh yes, he knew he had hit the mark with that comment. Andrew Ryan would have bore steam from his ears had he been a teakettle. He rose from his chair in an attempt to rise faster than Crane did and ordered him out of his office. Crane thanked the awful man for his time and turned towards the door.
He was more than happy to leave the claustrophobic office. He grabbed the knob as he had done before and laced his fingers around it. With a click he was free, well almost.
The door swung inward and as the threshold became viewable Crane was blocked by the small frame of Eleanor who had been listening at the door the entire time. Crane felt the words get stuck in his throat as he tried to excuse himself for being an obstacle. The two did their best to try and get out of the other's way but after the third attempt Eleanor blushed heavily and again reverted her eyes to the floor. "Forgive me," she said in her soft voice and stepped aside as to let Crane pass. He grabbed the opposite knob and closed the door behind him. Once the door clicked shut Andrew Ryan could be heard from nineteen blocks away, yelling, screaming, and cursing. Eleanor stayed planted next to the door as Crane stepped nervously to the elevator, pressing the gilded button ever so lightly with his index finger. He stood there for only a few moments before the elevator sprang to attention and opened its doors like a mother's arms and gathered Crane into the lift compartment. Before the doors closed he looked back to Eleanor, who no doubt felt his eyes upon her, for she looked up and smiled her shy and polite smile. A heavy blush appeared in her cheeks and she raised her small hand in a wave. Crane breathed sharply but was quick to gather himself together again. He glanced around the elevator compartment and pressed the ground floor button. With that, the doors began to enclose in front of him. He looked back to Eleanor and raised his hand in a similar gesture to hers. This made him laugh to himself because the poor girl saw this and inhaled sharply, blushing even more than her face could handle. She turned around in place so she was facing the wall and crane gazed at her simple form until the shining doors framed her out of view.