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The towering steel doors slowly parted to allow her into the reception of the isolated building, which seemed almost as deserted and desolate as it had looked before she made her journey up the long, winding gravel path in order to finally enter the stone compound. She heard the steel doors slam together, and its loud yet dark, mechanical whirring looked to be the only thing that was illuminating the silent room.
The woman was dressed in a black blazer which was covering a white shirt and her thin, sleek legs had been concealed beneath a straight, red skirt which almost met knee-high black heels. Her blonde hair was tied behind her head, revealing large, brown eyes and a small nose centred perfectly halfway down her face. Her body was attractively long and curvaceous, features which would tease men into trusting and falling in love with her almost instantly. She wasn't a very tall woman, yet her presence had ultimately been noted as she briskly walked through the room to a large, wooden desk littered with irrelevant stacks of paper, a small computer with the detached keyboard lying unused several centimetres away and an old-fashioned, musty-green telephone also accompanied a couple of pens and newspapers at the helm of the desk.
The stone room also contained a few blue armchairs placed oppositely to the desk which were pale and worn-out, presumably from the amount of time they had been used without replacement-after all, this was a complex which regularly saw its inmates trade the life they had exploited and used to kill and steal for a hellacious and tormenting experience exclusively provided by the best therapists in Arkham, with the sole hope that they may eventually return to Gotham as changed and forgiven men. She noted a miniature picture resting next to the computer of a man with shoulder length hair and eyes whose red colour seemed to connect the two in a menacing way. He was dressed in a lab coat, smiling happily towards the camera.
She heard a door behind her close as a tall man with short, ginger hair and penetrating, red eyes appeared. His small, square spectacles were resting calmly on his wide ears. He was dressed in a white lab-coat which was buttoned together and fell to his knees, as his black trousers slid from underneath the coat, almost mirroring the sinister and fast movement of the man as he approached the woman confidently standing across from him. However, she quickly realised that the man who was now holding a clipboard as he picked up the pace looked very similar to the one she had previously seen in the photo.
"Good afternoon Doctor Quinzel, how was the journey?" The man outstretched a hand and smiled warmly towards her.
"It was...interesting, to say the least. Gotham has some amazing sights." She met his hand and felt his sweaty hand latch onto hers strongly.
"My name is Doctor Jeremiah Arkham; I am currently the head of this wonderful and notorious building, known as Arkham Asylum!" He chuckled, expecting a laugh in return yet was only greeted with a half smile from Doctor Quinzel.
He continued wearily, his smile and mood slowly transpiring into a darkening frown: "We are all very glad to have you with us here today, and I must say you really are our last hope.
We had to call in the best people to solve this problem because none of us can get through to him.
He has his guard up. He still doesn't trust us and remains suspicious of whatever we ask him. We needed someone who had an excellent track record, and of course, you were the obvious choice."
"I've studied the files and he is an intriguing patient, I've never been partnered with somebody who occupies such a compulsive obsession towards the mind, I find it compelling. In a way, there isn't that much difference between us and him." She paused, trying to choose the right words, and continued:
"I'm sorry to hear about the loss of Doctor Crane. "
Doctor Arkham beckoned toward the direction of the door he had came from, instigating Quinzel into a slow and relaxed walk.
"Not to worry about that, Doctor. His situation is a surprising and unprecedented one but he is in the best hands Arkham can provide. We've always looked after our own.
However, Doctor Quinzel, it's vitally important you tackle this situation slowly. I've never met somebody so gifted and intellectual. He almost tests me as much as I try to test him."
"I do love a good challenge, sir. By the end of the month I'm sure he would have told me everything we need to know, especially when I'm through with him."
Doctor Arkham stopped abruptly, looking shocked and apprehensive as his eyebrows lowered slowly, almost as if they too, needed time to come to terms with what Doctor Quinzel had just disclosed.
"You have to be vigilant. He's been here 10 years now, Doctor, and he hasn't told us a thing.
He hasn't opened up to us at all, in fact. I know no more about him now than when I did all those years ago when we first accepted him.
I still don't know why he did what he did, and why he chose to do it in such a disgusting and despicable way."
His voice lowered quietly, almost as if he was in complete fear of even speaking about the patient she had been desperately called in to help just a few weeks ago.
"However, I do know that he is a dangerous man, Mrs Quinzel."
Doctor Quinzel stopped and did her best to formulate a positive smile in response:
"Like I said, Mr Arkham, I've studied the files. I knew what I was taking on when I accepted this job."
They proceeded through a small brown door, making their way towards a large room, filled with a few people all dressed in the similar attire of a white lab-coat. A few of them nodded to her as Doctor Arkham gestured towards a rectangular but sealed window, revealing a small part of the bright room which stood directly next to this one.
The window was large enough to see a small metal table which was host to a black tape recorder, 2 cups which Quinzel presumed had coffee in them and 2 metal chairs which were either side of the table. There were no windows in the room apart from this one, and the red bricks lined together didn't even attempt to make the room look appealing in the slightest. Quinzel took the clipboard from Doctor Arkham, and extracted a pen from behind her ear. She smiled, and opened the door which led into the other room.
She heard Doctor Arkham's voice, which had become even more hushed and softer than before:
"Please, Doctor Quinzel...I implore you..." Doctor Arkham warned.
"To be careful."
Doctor Quinzel recognised the same frown she had seen earlier, and even though the room was extremely dark and bustling with whispers from surrounding doctors studying the empty room, Jeremiah Arkham's strained and worried facial features were the most visible of it all.
She reluctantly entered the room, but what she hadn't seen was a tall man dressed in an orange and white striped pyjama standing out of view of the window, resting against the brick wall towards the back of the small room.
He wasn't very large or muscular, but he had been the first thing Quinzel had been attracted to, regardless of the loud fan generating cold air into the claustrophobic room.
His hands were hidden in his pockets and his long legs were strong and upright, supporting the body which hosted his famous and ingenious brain.
His dirty, brown hair had been slicked back and Quinzel could just about recognise miniscule pieces of dirt lodged in his messy hair. His right eyebrow was arched at a small angle, as if it had been stuck in a procession of thought upon the arrival of the unfamiliar doctor standing stiffly opposite him.
He had green eyes which pierced directly through hers. His mouth curled upwards into a crooked and ominous smile, almost as if it had completed the final piece of the puzzle which was awaiting her.
*Reviews are welcomed, appreciated and encouraged. This is my first story and all feedback is appreciated. Thank you.*