Note: It will get better! I promise! My writing is a bit rusty as I'm sure you've noticed. I'm trying to keep everyone in character as much as possible. If I'm structurally incorrect in the layout of Arkham Asylum, I apologize. I don't have the layout down completely in my mind so... Yeah there's that. Anyways, I'll try to keep updating as frequently as possible, but I have art work to attend to as well. I'll try to balance both equally.
Chapter 2
Patient Evaluations: Day 1
Yesterday went about as well as it could have. She got to the asylum without a hitch and getting her job seemed almost too easy. Carrie quickly brushed those thoughts away as she slipped on her red tank top and lab coat. She pulled her long red-brown hair back into a high ponytail, letting her bangs cover her left eye, only brushing it out of the way long enough to apply her makeup, which consisted of dark eye-shadow, black mascara, and cherry-red lipstick. She also slipped on her black gloves, which stopped at the knuckles, allowing her fingers to be exposed. They were given to her by her father when she was 15. They made her feel tough. Buttoning up her white coat to her neck, she took one last look in the mirror before giving a smile and walking out the door. Her first patient of the day was Pamela Isley, or Poison Ivy as the staff called her. Seems easy enough for your first patient. Payne walked down into the lab where she would look into Ivy's case before trying a medication. Of all the patients, Ivy seemed to be one who didn't have a serious mental disorder, other than her intense love of plant life. But even that was understandable, given her condition. Perhaps a simple talk would further my understanding... Carrie mused as she made her way to Ivy's holding cell. It was a special cell, isolating her from her "babies". When she arrived, the red-haired temptress was sitting in the middle of her holding cell, looking at the floor. Ivy didn't seem to take notice of the nurse's entrance.
"Miss Isley?" Carrie called out to her, hoping to get her attention. Ivy looked up at the new nurse, a disappointed look playing on her face.
"Hm. Finally got tired of sending their men down to me? Looks like they finally solved the mystery." Ivy taunted, examining her nails as she did so. Carrie cleared her throat and checked her clipboard.
"Yes, well. H-How are you today Miss Isley?" she tried to be casual about her intentions, hoping it would guise her attempts at getting into Ivy's head. Ivy sighed and looked at the nurse with the same bored expression as before.
"Well, let's see, Doctor. I'm stuck in this cage like some sort of animal, cut off from my babies while they're in pain. So, I'm quite peachy, as you can imagine." the villainess responded venomously. Carrie cleared her throat again and stepped closer to the cell, pulling up a nearby fold-out chair to sit on.
"I'm sorry to hear that, Pamela. Is there anything I can do to make you more...comfortable?" Carrie asked, careful about her choice of words. Ivy just scoffed and glared at the nurse.
"Comfortable?!" she all but shouted, rising to her feet. "If you wanted to make me more comfortable, you would release me. But we both know that won't happen. So your pathetic offer was only an insult to my pain." Ivy spoke the rest of her words more quietly, giving them a dangerous tone. Carrie sat with parted lips, regretting what she had just said. The rest of the visit went about the same way. Well, THAT was productive. Great job, Carrie... her conscious scolded her and she pinched the bridge of her nose with frustration and let out a sigh on her way back to the lab. She checked the system on her assigned console to see her next appointment. Killer Croc... She shivered and read the added note to the profile. "Extra security required" was typed in red under the patient's name. A few moments later, three guards, led by Officer Cash, entered the room.
"Miss Payne?" Cash inquired, not recognizing her immediately. She nodded and stepped closer, printing off Croc's file and clipping it on the clipboard along with a blank patient form.
"Y-yes, that's me." She responded, stepping forward to stand in front of him. "I'm supposed to evaluate Waylon Jones next..." She trailed off, nervous about this particular patient.
"Don't worry, I've got a high voltage shock collar on the beast. He's not getting close to you without 10,000 volts rushing through his body." Cash smirked, holding up a remote device set to trigger the shock collar that Killer Croc wears. Carrie nodded and followed the men down the hall to a large interrogation room, where they all entered and Carrie sat at the table, waiting patiently for her patient. Within a couple minutes, loud resounding thuds could be heard coming up the hallway. Tic toc, Carrie... Her conscience taunted her in a dark tone; if it had a face, she swore it would have the most malicious grin. When the doors opened, she couldn't help but flinch. Feint growling could be heard as the large mutant stepped into the room. With a gulp, Payne cleared her throat.
"Hello, Waylon." She greeted nervously as he focused his predator gaze on her small form. "H-how are you today?" She offered with as friendly a smile as she could to mask her fear. He just seemed to chuckle darkly and snarl at her.
"Chained up like an animal and forced into the sewers of a looney bin. I'm doin' great, Doc." He spat, rolling his reptilian eyes before glaring at her again. "Did they tell ya what happened to my last nurse?" He asked with a malicious grin. Payne shook her head, earning a dark laugh from the large beast. "She was about as nice as they come. Always smiling."
"She sounds delightful. Do you prefer her to me?" Payne asked, hoping that he could be referred back to his previous nurse instead of her.
"I don't know... I haven't eaten you yet..." He finished, grinning wildly and staring into her soul. Carrie visible shivered and Cash did not let that slip his attention. With a glare, Officer Cash turned up the dial on his remote and presses the button, causing Waylon snarl in pain as 10,000 volts raced through his body. With a growl, Croc glared at the officer. "When I get outta here, you're the first one I'm eatin', Cash." he snarled as he pointed threateningly at his nemesis.
"We both know that ain't gonna happen, Croc. Let's get him outta here! This session's over for today." Cash ordered as his men backed him up, pointing their guns at Jones, forcing him to back out of the room. He flashed a glare at Carrie before he ducked out of the doorway and trudged his way back down the hall. Payne was still shaking in her chair, mouth slightly agape and her eyes fixed on the door. A hand on her shoulder made her jump, but relief soon followed as she looked up into the eyes of Doctor Young.
"Miss Payne, are you alright?" she asked, concern in her brown eyes. Unable to speak, Carrie just gave a nod. "Are you sure? Waylon tends to have that effect on most of the staff here. I can assure you that you're perfectly safe here with us." the Doctor gave a reassuring smile and walked Carrie back to the lab. "Your last patient for today is Jonathan Crane. He is one of my favorites to be honest. He used to be a brilliant psychologist himself and his skills in chemistry are admirable. I think if we can cure him, he can help us with our research." Penelope finished, printing off Crane's file for Carrie and handing her the papers. Payne gave a grateful nod and clipped her papers to her clipboard before turning and making her way to the cell block where Jonathan was being held. Two guards had been posted outside the cell door, and they nodded to her in greeting. Carrie smiled and swiped her keycard, unlocking the large metal door. Stepping inside, the cell was spall and dark, dimly lit by the flickering light on the center of the ceiling.
"Good afternoon, nurse." A voice greeted from across the cell, making Carrie jump at the sudden sound. Looking to the cot hanging off the wall, she saw her last patient sitting, waiting for her arrival. "How are you today?" he asked almost too politely.
"Fine, thank you. How are you, Jonathan?" she returned the gesture, hoping to strike up a conversation with at least one of her patients today that didn't end it failure.
"Wonderful." He replied, looking the nurse over. The woman seemed a bit shaken by something. He could practically taste her fear, and it was delicious. "Something troubling you, nurse?" Crane leaned forward, propping up and elbow on his knee and resting his chin in his hand. Clearing her throat, Carrie gave her best smile.
"With all due respect, Mister Crane, I'm here to evaluate you today, if you don't mind." she retorted politely, sitting in the chair across from Crane's cot.
"Of course, nurse. Whatever makes you feel more comfortable." the ex-psychologist replied, leaning back and resting his hands behind his head.
"Alright, Jonathan. Let's start with your fascination with fear. What about it peaks your interest?" Payne asked, flipping to the blank patient form. Crane leaned his head forward slightly to look at her.
"Forgive me, nurse. But I don't even know your name yet. We mustn't forget common courtesy." the ex-doctor remarked, crossing a leg over the other.
"Very well. My name is Carrie Payne. It's a pleasure." she played along with his little game, hoping to get more out of him this way. A small chuckle escaped the man.
"A very ironic last name, Miss Payne." he commented, shifting his weight slightly.
"Nurse Payne. I know, it sounds like 'pain'. I've heard that a million times." she giggled to herself, rolling her eyes. "At one point I considered changing my last name because it frightened younger patients." she explained with a smile.
"I think it's a beautiful name. The fact that it inspired fear in others makes it especially appealing to the ears." Crane complimented, a wicked smile beneath his mask. Carrie gave a smirk and raised a brow at her patient.
"Which brings us to my initial question: Why focus on fear, Jon?" she looped back to the beginning of the evaluation. Crane pondered for a moment before giving an answer.
"'However wide awake they may have been before they entered that sleepy region, they are sure, in a little time, to inhale the witching influence of the air, and begin to grow imaginative—to dream dreams, and see apparitions.'" he gave his answer, leaning forward so sit up straight once more.
"Did...you just quote The Legend of Sleepy Hollow?" Payne inquired with confusion. "Was that a reference to your fear gas, Jonathan? Is that what inspired you to do what you do?" she questioned further. This earned a laugh from the former professor.
"Oh, Carrie. You think all it took was a piece of literature to influence a man with such a brain as my own? You wound me, nurse." he joked, fake hurt in his voice as he placed a hand over his heart. "No, my reasons wore much more severe than that, but I do admit that I found the story quite relatable in more ways than one." he finished in a more serious tone.
"Then what did influence your actions, Jonathan?" She asked, more interested from her own curiosity than for the sake of her interview, although she still took the occasional note when she heard something important.
"Oh, just the same old cliché 'My Parents Didn't Love Me' story." he answered casually, moving to recline on his cot like a therapist's chair.
"I'm afraid I'll need to ask for more details, Jonathan." she pressed, hoping for more insight than what he was willing to offer initially.
"How about a trade, nurse? Information for information." Crane offered in a polite tone. "Courtesy is quite important to me, Carrie." he finished, turning his head to look at her. She pondered for a moment.
"What kind of information do you want?" she asked, skeptical of striking this "deal" of his.
"Personal. You wish to know about my life when I know nothing of yours, Miss Payne. That hardly seems fair, wouldn't you agree?" Jonathan answered simply, adjusting one of the respirators on his mask. After careful thought, Payne figured that if things got too personal, she could make things up and he wouldn't know. Oh, what the hell, Carebear? Indulge the man. Her conscience spoke to her once more.
"Very well, Jonathan. How about we take turns with our questions?" she offered with a smile and a sigh, making a note on her clipboard.
"I wouldn't have it any other way, Carrie. I do believe it's my turn. What inspired you to become involved with your work?" he asked, turning to lay on his side and propping his elbow on his pillow, resting his head in that hand.
"Well, my story is as cliché as yours. My father was killed when I was a young teenager. I swore to make Gotham a better place however I could so that no one else suffers the same fate." she answered, trying not to get too emotional.
"I see... Go on." he urged, sitting up and leaning forward ever so slightly, showing false interest.
"Well... It's not something I enjoy talking about, Mister Crane. You see, my father was always the most supporting figure in my life. My mother always worried to much; always afraid that I would wind up getting killed by one of my patients if I followed in my father's footsteps..." she continued before stopping abruptly. "Wait a minute, I believe you owe me an answer, Mister Crane!" she came to realize that he almost got her to talk, and so easily might she add. He must've been a good shrink... her conscience admired.
"My, my. Nothing gets by you, does it dear?" Crane half-admired. "Very well. Ask away."
"When did this obsession with fear begin?" she asked, getting ready to take notes. He thought for a moment.
"Early boyhood." He stated simply. She looked to him for more details, but none came. "My turn, is it? How did your father die?" he asked, smirking to himself.
'Does she really think she can get away with such simple questions?' His inner Scarecrow mocked, laughing darkly in the back of Jonathan's mind. 'Patience, old friend. Patience.' Jonathan's own thoughts soothed the Scarecrow within, not wanting him to leak through right now. Disappointed with the answer she got, Carrie rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration; then, she got an idea. Two can play this game, Doctor Crane...
"He was murdered. My turn." she smirked. "What happened that caused you such trauma as a child that you would feel the need to master fear? You must've suffered terror at its worst to be driven to the extremes that you've taken." Jonathan thought for a moment.
'Our little nurse is smarter than I pegged her for. Not like that fool, Stephen, that does those petty patient interview taping sessions...' Scarecrow mused in the back of Crane's mind again. 'Indeed. She could be our next test subject, my friend.'
"My grandmother was my primary caretaker throughout my younger years. My parents didn't love me enough to care for me, so they dumped me in her lap the first chance they got." Crane began, hatred lacing his words. Carrie listened intently, hanging on his every word carefully.
"Surely she must've cared for you. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here today." she added with a smile. Crane just scoffed at the remark.
"Oh yes, we had a grand time. We baked cookies and she read me bedtime stories every night." Jonathan retorted sarcastically. "She was a wicked old woman whose religious upbringing turned her into the witch that she was. As punishment for whatever little thing I did 'wrong', she would douse me in a homemade fluid and throw me in the old church in the cornfield behind the house. Now it wouldn't have been so bad if the damn thing hadn't been infested with crows. You finish the puzzle, nurse." he finished venomously. Realization hit Payne like a sack of bricks.
"The crows were drawn to the liquid...and they attacked you, didn't they?" she ventured to ask, sympathy laced in her words. Crane was silent, not breaking his level gaze from her own.
"My turn. Who murdered your father?" he asked, unfazed by her sympathy. He was fairly certain he knew who it was, because it was on the news years ago, and he knew the assailant.
"Victor Zsasz." She answered, a hint of anger dripping from the name. Crane nodded with a smirk. "It was Zsasz..." she said a bit more quietly this time, looking down at the floor.
"Your father was trying to protect you and your mother, I presume." Crane pressed further, wanting to get to the root of her fears. When the nurse nodded, he knew he had what he was looking for. "Is that why you cover your left eye, Miss Payne? Is that veil of hair hiding a scar?" He continued to push her, earning a surprised look from the nurse.
"I think our time is up for today, Mister Crane." She stood abruptly and clipped her pen to the side of her clipboard. Jonathan nodded once to her and watched her leave. She looked urgent in the way she left. He was used to that response. It was a good sign for the Master of Fear; it meant he was getting to her.
"Same time tomorrow, Miss Payne..."