Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of this fanfiction with the pure exception of Michael Saul and several other characters. Characters such as Batman, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze and others belong to DC Comics and their respective creators/corporation.
This is a new chapter. I want to give you a sense of how Saul (I prefer calling him that) is a very ordinary person andalso, not ordinary in the occupation he is in. I also want to give the Arkham to have a sense of rush, urgency and fear with the description of the city proper.
I would like people to review and note mistakes if you will. I will be re-editing the story once I've come to a stumbling block.
Thank you and enjoy!
By the side table, a blue neon light emanated from the alarm clock. It was four minutes to five thirty. In this dark room, the window to the left of the bed was left ajar slightly. If one were outside, one can see into his room shining bright neon blue, courtesy of the alarm clock. The curtains flailed around as Gotham often had windy dawns. The thermostat on the wall had its dial broken. It was just a regular room, like any other.
This loft was unlike most bachelor pads. It did not have the stains and stench of pizza on the living room couch. Nor did the loft have the typical messiness associated with single men. Upon the walls in that unusual living room, bookcases upon bookcases lined the walls. The bookcases were filled with to the brim with books. It resembled a private library for a rich man.
The alarm clock rang.
A hand peeked through the bed sheets, fumbling and struggling to find something. The hand finds the button and ends the noise machine. The hand then collapsed, hitting the sides of the bed as it falls. The body lay motionless for another five minutes. Suddenly, the body rose from the bed. Sluggishly, the disheveled hair covered his face. He then parted his brown medium-length tresses to the back and he looked at the alarm clock intently. Sitting at the bed, he peered out his window to see that the spring-like winter Gotham had was taking its toll on the park opposite his loft.
It was not weird that the old botanical garden was facing gradual dilapidation. After all, this was the one of the rougher sides of Gotham. Every night, you could hear the gun fired from a large caliber gun. Crying can be heard from the alleyways. Rapes were frequently happening in this neighborhood. Armed robberies were a close second. Murder was not as frequent as people thought. The neighborhood had good people, living with good intentions but, hoodlums decide to make this their "Preyground". The people lived in perpetual fear in the Preygrounds. This was not an unwarranted fear as they feared the evil that lurks behind every corner and the masked vigilante. This was a neighborhood of insecurity.
However, some nights, if one was lucky, one can hear the fights up on the roof between the vigilante, Batman and his nest of rogues that always ended up in Arkham Asylum. Back when the vigilante had less to deal with, the fights would have been a spectacle for the neighborhood. Nowadays, these crazed fools who fought on the rooftops were growing in numbers and in the powers they wielded.
At one point, the botanical garden became a point of conflict. A villainess traversed down into this part of Arkham, made the gardens her lair and turned the virtually desolate and dying grove into an oasis. Granted, the gardens became creepier and neighborhood children who walked too close to the garden risked becoming her prey. Eventually, the masked vigilante made his way into the gardens and rinsed and repeated what he usually did on the rooftops or the alleyways. That villainess was a godsend to the neighborhood in some ways. Crimes stopped when she lurked the garden. She was also a force that the Preygrounds did not want. The missing children last seen at the garden was at best the greatest indication of disdain from the neighborhood.
"At least it's turning green again," sighed Michael as he peeks through the curtain to see the gardens. The old hothouse was still intact, dustier with greyish green grime covering the surface. Many of the haunting trees that were rooted deep in the outside garden were dying not from the weather but from just the missing catalyst that kept it all alive.
He leapt from bed, took a quick shower and quickly dressed for work. This was his usual routine. Leaving his room and tying his necktie, as usual, he opened his fridge and grabbed a couple of eggs. The usual thing was to fry the eggs sunny-side up. He did as such. He grabbed an orange from the counter and peeled it open. The usual thing was to eat it and dump the skin into the fridge. As he waited for his toast that he prepared on the side, as usual, he turned on the television and continues to cook his eggs. This was the same time that the weather report just finished and the news anchors jabbered on and on about the day's top news.
"We have the latest installment of the siege on Homs in just a moment but first, let's take a look at today's local news," said the woman news anchor.
"Thank you, Patricia. Earlier in the morning, police with the help of Batman captured Poison Ivy at Arparo Park. Since the reopening of Arkham, Poison Ivy had not been caught for the past three and half years. Finally, the saga comes to a close when police raided the ruined ballpark to apprehend Poison Ivy, seen here robbing a bank with help of her plant accomplices and Harley Quinn."
"It's odd, don't you think Jim?" retorted Patricia to her co-host. "Her friend gets caught robbing the bank and she gets off scot-free." As she said those words, the image of Ivy being led to a police vehicle was shown on the television. Michael drank his coffee as he took the eggs of the pan and onto his plate.
"As we speak, they will be sending her to Arkham Asylum for treatment while she is waiting for her impending trial," continued Jim. "Police have filed charges of aggravated assault, attempted murder, armed robbery and grand perjury against Poison Ivy. We will have more in the coming hours."
Saul ate his eggs as he continued watching the television. In his mind, it starts to rumble furiously to hear that a villain has yet again been caught and sent down his way to be treated. For him, the case of Poison Ivy was one case he loved to engage in. Since the records of the old Arkham Asylum burned with the old imposing structure, the only records of her were online. Scarce with details, he had read her file many times, just like the many patients' files he has read.
As he finished eating his breakfast while lost in his thoughts, he jumped back into reality. He quickly washed his plate and left it to dry on the dish rack. Then, he sees upon the domed ceiling window, the sun touching its warm glow upon his loft's living room's floor, thanks to a few well-placed mirrors. The mahogany floorboards began to sizzle from the rays. The smell permeated the loft. He knew the floors would not burn as the mahogany was also laminated. Suddenly, he noticed that it was time to leave and also, it was time to do something extra important.
He went close to the table that held a special item. Filled from its base to the tip, this was a magnificent specimen of how evolution was at its finest. Life was already random and selective. The advent of humans cannot be called random or selective. For Michael, this plant that Hannah gave him, this magnificent of an orchid was something that Michael held in the highest esteem. The orchid's slender curve was a pleasant sight for Michael. The dews on the petals glistened the light from the sun, creating a beautiful radiant sight from anywhere in the room.
The sight of such a simplistic flower that had such a complex structure was the most beguiling thing for Michael. As he watered the flower, he smiled. In fact, watering that orchid was the only thing that made him smile since Hannah passed away. His beautiful white orchid that had brownish yellow freckles kept him in solace. Its soft yellow trim at its end was one thing that kept him together.
He looked at the orchid once more. His smile was still on his face. He grabbed a book, from his bookcase, as usual, took his briefcase by the door, as usual and took one last look at his loft. He opened the door leaving his apartment and stepped out with his right foot first, then his left. He held the briefcase and the book with his right hand while his left hand remained behind him, idle. He turned around, locked the door from the inside and shut the door from his left hand.
The smile left his face.
As usual.
Packed like a sardine, morning rides in a Gotham City subway is like riding the night trains. Dangerous and filled with angry people from an already disgruntled metropolis, the subway ride from Endbury to Marlon was thankfully short. It is amazing to see the waters from River Liberty in the morning as its murky waters begin to reflect the sun's rays. You would not want to swim in the river but, you want to just watch a yacht pass through those narrow passages.
"Next stop, Sallow," cried the intercom.
"And cue three, two, and one…" counted Michael in his mind.
The train stopped at the station. All of the passengers got off, leaving Michael the sole soul on board the train. He found it odd that people got off at Sallow. Why would you want to work at Sheal? It was the uglier side of Gotham state and the industrial heartland. He questioned why didn't the city's founders built trains heading straight to City Industrial Park? Thoughts like this enveloped Micheal every morning.
It was one stop before Marlon, the station where people working at (or escaping from) the asylum frequently use. He heard of the superstitions that people where literally murdered on the tracks as the patients who were released seek their own "release". The train closed its doors and started moving again full speed ahead. The emptiness of the train ride from Sallow to Marlon was always the most static thing in Michael's life. While other psychiatrists used their cars and drove through the gate, Michael liked walking up through the gate and uphill to the asylum.
This was a routine for Michael Saul every day for the past three years.
"Next stop, Marl-," cried the intercom. It accompanied a loud buzzing sound and static.
This was the usual thing one would hear as one reached Marlon.
"And cue three, two…"
"Good morning, Dr. Saul!" greeted the guard.
Michael liked talking to the guards. The usual thing Michael did was to salute to any guard when he meets them in the morning. As usual, the guards would respond back in that playful gesture, raising their hand, saluting the non-uniformed personnel as though he was the Chief of Police. All the while, the guard sat on his chair.
"What're you reading there, Dick?" asked Michael politely.
"It's this new book about earning money in the stock market without even leaving your chair."
"You're buying into that kind of bunk, Dick?" quizzed Michael.
"Nah, I like pointing out the obvious flaws about capitalism and how much this writer is pompous airhead," answered the guard sarcastically.
Michael snickered. "Funny and here I thought all you guards were dumb…"
"And you psychiatrists are overpaid girlfriends for the insane," retorted the guard sarcastically towards the sarcasm Michael brought out. The only thing Michael did was laugh back and then, his smile disappeared once more as he waved goodbye to the guard and walked to the elevator.
He enters the empty elevator and pressed the button. Arkham Asylum was rebuilt from the ashes. The old mansion became a husk of its former glory. Built atop the destroyed ruins of the old Arkham, the new Arkham became more of a hospital than an asylum. Sterile to a fault, the main lobbies and offices were as orderly as the gods intended. The cells that held the prisoners were meant to accommodate the worst criminals. Thanks to the tax dollars of the average citizen amassed by the citizens, it helped pay for the comfortable living that the insane would never get outside of Arkham.
Also, there was Bruce Wayne. He was the trustee to many community trust boards and programs. The richest person in town came with its responsibilities. He was a typical billionaire. He had enough money to spend. He flaunted the money when he could, invested it when he would and donated it when he should. He had reservations about money as Michael perceived. Although he lived in a grand mansion, the billionaire Wayne was spectacularly accommodating to a fault. Hence, when Arkham needed to be rebuilt, Wayne donated a large portion of his money to the institution. There was once a garden named after him outside in the old Arkham. Now, the garden, a symposium, a treatment wing and an office was named after the billionaire. The mark of the old owner, Jeremiah Arkham, was gone.
The elevator arrived at the third floor, the office floor.
Michael walked out of the elevator, briefcase in his right hand and walked towards his office. He opened the door and was greeted by the sight of his nurse-secretary, Ms. Campbell. The cheerful young psychiatric nurse was happy to work for Michael. She was always happy. Michael feared that she might snap if she was not careful. These were the types that could have their entire worldview snap in an instance.
"Good morning, Dr. Saul!" greeted the brunette.
"Good morning, Bridget," replied Michael as he hands his coat to the nurse. "What's my schedule for today?"
"Well, today, you have a session with Fries at ten for two hours. Then, you are required to attend a meeting later at one."
"What meeting is this? I wasn't informed about it…"
"It's about the endowment that the Wayne Psychiatry Board and also… they are looking to name the doctor to treat the new patient…" struggled Bridget as she looked through the book.
"Poison Ivy? Yes, I've heard that she's finally caught," speculated Michael.
Bridget looked at her book once more. "Yes, it's her, sir," replied the nervous nurse. "Just worried about how much of a seductress she is."
Michael then sat on his desk chair. "Read her profile a few months back. Needed to know patients who were frequent tenants of Chateau le Crazy," replied Michael. "Such a sad case, that Ivy has had."
"And of course, the doctors who always fell for her…" sighed Bridget.
"That is the least of my concerns for now. Most of them want to heal her. Not the best way to approach an angry woman."
Bridget let out a chortle. "You? Know women?"
"I was once engaged, let us not forget."
As Bridget leaves the office, she retorted sarcastically, "Yeah… and I'm the Queen of Jordan…"
She left the office and shut the door. Michael is now alone in his office. He goes to the filing cabinet and takes out the necessary files for his session with Victor Fries aka Mr. Freeze. He was one of his more favorite patients. He always had a pleasant scientific discourse on thermodynamics with Fries. It was a building block on creating a strong patient-doctor relationship in a way. Often, he slipped in questions on Fries' philosophy and always Fries answered back with snippets of his life. He built jigsaws with the mosaics from his patients. These tactics work. With Fries, all it takes is a nice conversation and a chess set. Michael then began reading the portfolio, the notes he had written and his notes of his former colleagues. He leaned back into his chair with a pen in his mouth.
This is the usual beginning of the day for Michael Saul.
The next chapter involves the meeting. Why am I not going into the details in his treatment with patients? You saw what Saul did in the first chapter and he can be lethal if he wants to. He's a passive aggressive is a weird way. We'll come to that slowly.
Please review as usual.