Ch. 13: Do No Harm
Science was never Jean-Paul's favorite subject in school, but now he is the experiment. It is intended to be a phase one randomized clinical trial to determine dosage levels, delivery method and effects on the body of the new wonder drug, VENOM lab's serum #412, known by the brand name Invixil. Jean-Paul is one of thirty one test subjects chosen for the study. At his first visit to the clinic, he wonders if anyone else has been offered a deal similar to his to get into this study, and suddenly feels his stomach twist into a knot as he realizes he may have donated his body to science, but bartered his soul to the devil.
If he is to believe the Batman, this is a chance at redemption, but looking at the poor invalid at the other end of the floor, in a full body cast with every form of life support machine plugged into him, Jean-Paul feels less like he's receiving a second chance, and more as though he has just entered a purgatorial prison, where what little life remains in his body will be drained slowly and painfully until the empty shell cracks and crumbles to ash.
He tries to stay focused on the information presented to him during his orientation with the technician, but the police officer in him is taking in his surroundings during the lecture. Coma patients, paraplegics, burn victims, cancer and cardiac cases are also being enrolled as test subjects. Several of the less mobile patients, like him, are given permanent beds at the facility rather than travel back and forth for treatment.
He overhears two techs discussing another room which will administer the treatment to the neurological disorders involved in the trial: autism, bipolar and schizophrenia. There is also another area, where children with birth defects, growth disorders and bone fractures are receiving the serum. He begins to wonder how all of these disparate conditions can benefit from the same medication.
He is told he will be receiving what is considered the mid-range dosage of the trial through injections to the Thymus gland, while another patient with a similar paralysis will receive the same dosage in oral form to see which delivery method is more effective. So it will be with all the participants, two by two to determine the best means to the end result. Curiously, the man in the full body cast is the exception.
His name is listed as John Doe, and he arrived in a coma after being treated for several broken bones and severe internal trauma. It is difficult to tell the extent of his damage, but it looks as though he had taken a harsh beating, was stabbed multiple times and then burned in case the other injuries weren't enough. Jean Paul overheard the lead doctor of the study, Dr. Mark Desmond, mention possible brain damage to one of the technicians.
This patient is receiving the serum by an experimental method. A synthetic gland, developed from stem cells, is being surgically implanted. In theory, this gland will produce and secrete the serum as the body requires it in times of need, when triggered by infection, injury or adrenal demands for additional immunity, strength and stamina, once fully developed and bonded to the host body. For now, the gland is tethered to external supply lines.
Obviously, Jean Paul assumes, this subject is being tested as part of VENOM lab's military funding contract. He is probably some unlucky soldier from overseas deployment who didn't realize the extent of the phrase 'be all you can be' when he enlisted.
His focus is brought back to his own plight when the technician asks if he understands the risks of the treatment. Jean Paul missed the list of possible side effects but thinks to himself 'what the hell, I'm already paralyzed. What can you do to me that's worse than this?'
The "miracle" of Invixil is the way it uses the human body to achieve its purpose. A cocktail of acronym laden enzymes such as PEG and ADA, amino acids, thymic epithelial cells, and human growth hormone, the serum stimulates the regeneration of the Thymus to pre-puberty levels. Once reactivated, the gland enhances the patient's natural levels of health and fitness.
Although the initial research led developers to consider the potential to help those with auto immune diseases and immunodeficiency syndromes, it was quickly realized that the serum held much more promise than just that. The military took notice when animal testing showed results of advanced healing of wounds and broken bones. The additional benefits of increased strength and stamina in healthy animals boosted the defense department's interest.
The combined support of the government and majority shareholder Wayne Enterprises provided enough financial sustenance to fast track the integration of Dr. Catherine Henner's research on viral genetics and immunology, much to the dismay of competitors Queen Industries and LexCorp. The inclusion of Henner's avian flu data, also provided by the backing of Wayne Enterprises, was the key to unlocking the secrets of besieged and beleaguered immune systems.
However, none of the participants, including Jean Paul, are aware of the sordid history of the serum and its competitors, nor do they care about corporate benefactors and political agendas that have motivated the advancement of the wonder drug. To them, it is the prospect of a prosperous vivacity they have been craving with gnawing hunger, the dangling carrot that gives them the strength to live each day in spite of the physical pain and mental anguish of their ailments. It is their hope of a better life.
Barely listening through the orientation, Jean Paul signs the medical waivers and is told he will still receive the standard protocols for physical rehabilitation in addition to the serum. His progress will be measured against patients solely receiving physical therapy. His attention is once again distracted from the technician's droning sermon as he looks at the faces throughout the room and recognizes that unmistakable gleam of hope on each of them.
He receives the injection to the gland in his chest, and with his first deep breath, a burning sensation spreads outward to the rest of his body, including his numb, immovable legs. The technician tells him this is normal with the injections as the serum enters the blood stream. It quickly fades, leaving only a mild tingle radiating down through his legs and feet.
As he is being returned to his bed, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he passes a communal bathroom along the hallway. The image leaves him doubting his own determination and clarity of focus. Instead of the hope he has witnessed on each of the other patients in the study, his face shows only concern and misgiving about the opportunity extended to him, and that lingering feeling that placing his trust in the masked vigilante will only lead to more misfortune and loss.
Jean Paul's wheelchair rolls through the door of his room and the sight takes his breath away, both from shock and dread. A woman he never thought he'd see again, whether by circumstance or design, was sitting on the edge of his bed.
Chase Meridian rises nervously when she sees him. When she heard he was working the force in Gotham, this wasn't the image that came to mind. She knew him when they were just embarking on their dream careers at the FBI Academy at Quantico. They met at orientation and developed a clandestine relationship during their training. They were trying to figure out how to stay together, as a couple and co-workers, when the incident occurred.
It was their custom to sneak out to Hogan's Alley, the faux city street on the Academy grounds, at night to meet for their covert rendezvous; thinking they were beyond suspicion, they became reckless and wanton in their lusty gluttony. One night, they were caught. Discipline was swift. They were transferred to separate training groups, put on probation and assured their assignments after graduation would be far from each other if they wanted to continue in their chosen professions.
Still, Jean Paul was undeterred in his pursuit. He converted a network of accomplices to aid in getting messages to Chase, and finally was able to set up a meeting away from the watchful eyes of the training officers.
It was a classroom that was to serve as their private meeting spot by calling in a favor to an overnight security guard to look the other way for an hour or two while the lovers convened for a date in the darkness. Assuming he was under constant surveillance, Jean Paul utilized his compound of confidants to arrange the set up with Chase as well as the guard.
It was no easy task to move secret messages among a population of trained investigators, and the process took time and patience to reach the intended targets. It was also this lethargy that would make possible the incident which would set Jean Paul on the path to his current situation.
The night of the intended tryst, the watchman left early due to a family emergency. He hurriedly scrawled a message to Jean Paul and sent it through the system for delivery, but the note didn't make it on time.
But that wasn't the only letter attempting to race the clock and make its way to the lovelorn trainee. Chase was having second thoughts about tempting fate, and had resigned herself to the notion that their careers were more important than a midnight delight. She had written to let Jean Paul know she wouldn't be there. She knew it was going to be difficult to get word to him in time, but at worst, she thought, he would be left alone to bid a solemn farewell to the burgeoning bond that would go unfulfilled.
Jean Paul was standing alone in the darkened room when the flashlight beam shined through the frosted glass pane of the door. He never thought to hide, thinking it either his love arriving or the sentry making a charade of a sweep to keep appearances. It was only after the door opened and the beam hit his face that he realized how badly the night was going.
He could hear the firearm slide free from the holster. The flashlight shuddered ever so slightly as the pistol fell into place beside it, in the guard's outstretched arms. Orders were shouted from behind the light. From behind foggy thoughts of being setup or even betrayed, Jean Paul complied with the requests to put his hands in the air, and kneel. The lights of the room flashed on and still Jean Paul was focused on who had wronged him.
It was when the watchman reached for the radio that a primal instinct of rage exploded within him. Spinning around he caught the guard's legs and let gravity handle the rest. He bounced onto the man's chest, feeling the breath deflate from the man's lungs with a deathly hiss. The guard's radio and gun were out of reach of both men, but Jean Paul's fists were the only weapons he needed.
With rhythmic percussion, the sound of knuckles on jawbone reverberated through the room; a snare whip signaled the breaking of the guard's nose. As the last echo of the beating faded from the hallway outside the room, Jean Paul staggered to the door in a delirium, his face, shirt and hands covered in blood. He wandered aimlessly out of the building, unbalanced and without regard to his appearance. He immediately drew the attention of other security reinforcements and when he recovered his clarity, he was in a holding cell under armed guard.
He washed out of the program and was off the grounds before Chase ever got to see him again or explain why she stood him up that night. She knew he pulled his life together and found a second chance with the Gotham P.D., and so she thought it best to let him move forward without reopening the wounds of his past only to absolve herself of her own regret.
But then she was sent to Gotham on the case of a lifetime. The exotic nightlife in Gotham, criminal and vigilante, was a career defining opportunity. She knew that to accept it meant she would have to explain her actions to the man she gave up.
When she sees his broken physical form in the wheelchair, she just hopes he is ready to hear it. Jean Paul grabs the chrome hand bar that encircles each wheel of the chair and stops the technician in the doorway. He brusquely tells the tech to leave them alone and sits there staring down the composed FBI agent.
She speaks first, as he shows no sign of having anything but a lethal glare for her. "J.P., I didn't want to be in this city and not settle things with you."
His taut jaw unlocks, at first seeming as though the words will not come out. "You settled it that night at the Academy."
She explains her side of that fateful night, and offers a quiet apology as he sits silently, unresponsive to her petition for understanding. After an eternity of stillness between them, she slowly picks up her jacket, sorrowfully parting once again. As she passes him at the door, she whispers "I'm in town for a while, if you change your mind, I'd like to spend time with you."
His flippantly derisive comeback stings on many levels, "Am I to be a case study or a pity screw?"
He doesn't even notice the tears flowing down her cheek as she brushes past to leave.