When Nightmares Come: Part 2:
Two burly guards held a tight grip on each of Dick's arms as they moved him from his cell down a series of halls and into an office. Dick was still groggy from the psychotropic drugs they had been injecting him with over the past week. Forcefully, the guards sat him in a pastel covered chair. Across the desk from Dick sat the doctor he had first met upon waking up in this place. The two guards remained on either side of him.
"How are we today, Mr. Grayson?"
Dick silently stared at the doctor.
"May I call you Dick?"
Silence.
"So, we're not in a talkative mood today are we. That's okay. I'm Doctor Thaggen. I've been assigned your case. As we discussed on your first day here at Arkham, we're going to help you. You've been suffering from extreme delusions of grandeur. You've been thinking that you're some kind of costumed vigilante known as Nightwing. After fully reading your charts, I think that you might also be suffering from a bi-polar affective disorder."
Dick's blue eyes bored into the doctor, but he said nothing.
"I think you need individualized therapy at the moment. After you're more stable, we'll discuss moving you into some group therapy. How are the medications making you feel?"
"How the hell do you think they're making me feel?" Dick angrily asked. His speech slightly slurred from the drugs he was being given.
The two guards placed their hands on Dick's shoulders as he raised his voice. They firmly kept him in his seat.
"It's understandable that you're upset, Dick. But remember, we're here to help you."
"Right."
"Your father's very concerned about you too."
"Cut your crap. Tell me who you really are and why I'm here." Dick growled.
The doctor sighed audibly. "This attitude is not going to help you Dick."
"What attitude is? You want me to buy into this shit. Ain't gonna happen."
Doctor Thaggen stood up and walked around the desk. Sitting on the corner of the desk, closer to his patient, he leaned in and said, "Perhaps your problem stems from the death of your parents. Perhaps you see a need to revenge their murders. And in doing so, your mind created this super-hero persona. It's only natural that you would want..."
The doctor was stopped in mid-sentence as Dick kicked up with his left leg, catching the doctor in the chin. The doctor fell backwards from the desk. The two guards grabbed Dick, attempting to restrain him. The chair he was sitting was knocked over in the scuffle. Dick fought the guards. He also fought the drugs in his system, trying to shake them off. He had to escape. He had to find his way home. That would be the only way to get to the bottom of this.
Kicking one of the guards, Dick stumbled over the fallen chair. He tried to catch himself before he fell, but the drugs had him unbalanced. The guards tackled Dick. He tried to fight them, but additional guards came into the room grabbing him as well. As Dick struggled, Dr. Thaggen forcefully stuck a needle into his arm.
"That will cost you Mr. Grayson," the doctor said, then turning to the guards, "Lock him in his cell until he learns to behave properly."
The guards dragged Dick out of the office and back towards his cell. Dick could feel the drugs he'd been injected with start to take effect. He was fighting to stay awake, fighting against the drugs. But there were just too many in his system.
***********************************************************************
Dick woke up in his cell. There were no lights on, but Dick had found in the week that he'd been here, that a sliver of light came into his cell at night from a window on the tier above him. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. But he knew something was not right here. He stood up and walked to his cell door. Placing his hands around the cold steel bars he stared into the corridor.
"What are you missing Grayson?" he asked himself.
Silence greeted him.
He turned from the barred cell door and started back toward his bunk. Then he stopped. Dick stood motionless for a few minutes before he turned back towards the door.
Silence?
Walking back to the barred door, he realized that he was alone. Alone in his cell. Alone on this floor. There were no other prisoners.
"I knew this was a set up," he said aloud as he realized that if he were in Arkham, there would be other prisoners in the adjacent cells. He started to smile; but it faded as soon as it appeared, "unless ..." He couldn't finish the sentence aloud. 'Unless this is how they process new prisoners. Difficult prisoners.'
Dick sat on his bunk, his back against the wall. Running his hands through his jet-black hair, he let out a deep sigh. Sitting alone in the darkness of his cell, he thought of Bruce. Was he looking for him? Or did he know where he was? Was this real? No, it couldn't be real! Could it?
To be continued....
Two burly guards held a tight grip on each of Dick's arms as they moved him from his cell down a series of halls and into an office. Dick was still groggy from the psychotropic drugs they had been injecting him with over the past week. Forcefully, the guards sat him in a pastel covered chair. Across the desk from Dick sat the doctor he had first met upon waking up in this place. The two guards remained on either side of him.
"How are we today, Mr. Grayson?"
Dick silently stared at the doctor.
"May I call you Dick?"
Silence.
"So, we're not in a talkative mood today are we. That's okay. I'm Doctor Thaggen. I've been assigned your case. As we discussed on your first day here at Arkham, we're going to help you. You've been suffering from extreme delusions of grandeur. You've been thinking that you're some kind of costumed vigilante known as Nightwing. After fully reading your charts, I think that you might also be suffering from a bi-polar affective disorder."
Dick's blue eyes bored into the doctor, but he said nothing.
"I think you need individualized therapy at the moment. After you're more stable, we'll discuss moving you into some group therapy. How are the medications making you feel?"
"How the hell do you think they're making me feel?" Dick angrily asked. His speech slightly slurred from the drugs he was being given.
The two guards placed their hands on Dick's shoulders as he raised his voice. They firmly kept him in his seat.
"It's understandable that you're upset, Dick. But remember, we're here to help you."
"Right."
"Your father's very concerned about you too."
"Cut your crap. Tell me who you really are and why I'm here." Dick growled.
The doctor sighed audibly. "This attitude is not going to help you Dick."
"What attitude is? You want me to buy into this shit. Ain't gonna happen."
Doctor Thaggen stood up and walked around the desk. Sitting on the corner of the desk, closer to his patient, he leaned in and said, "Perhaps your problem stems from the death of your parents. Perhaps you see a need to revenge their murders. And in doing so, your mind created this super-hero persona. It's only natural that you would want..."
The doctor was stopped in mid-sentence as Dick kicked up with his left leg, catching the doctor in the chin. The doctor fell backwards from the desk. The two guards grabbed Dick, attempting to restrain him. The chair he was sitting was knocked over in the scuffle. Dick fought the guards. He also fought the drugs in his system, trying to shake them off. He had to escape. He had to find his way home. That would be the only way to get to the bottom of this.
Kicking one of the guards, Dick stumbled over the fallen chair. He tried to catch himself before he fell, but the drugs had him unbalanced. The guards tackled Dick. He tried to fight them, but additional guards came into the room grabbing him as well. As Dick struggled, Dr. Thaggen forcefully stuck a needle into his arm.
"That will cost you Mr. Grayson," the doctor said, then turning to the guards, "Lock him in his cell until he learns to behave properly."
The guards dragged Dick out of the office and back towards his cell. Dick could feel the drugs he'd been injected with start to take effect. He was fighting to stay awake, fighting against the drugs. But there were just too many in his system.
***********************************************************************
Dick woke up in his cell. There were no lights on, but Dick had found in the week that he'd been here, that a sliver of light came into his cell at night from a window on the tier above him. He had no idea how long he'd been unconscious. But he knew something was not right here. He stood up and walked to his cell door. Placing his hands around the cold steel bars he stared into the corridor.
"What are you missing Grayson?" he asked himself.
Silence greeted him.
He turned from the barred cell door and started back toward his bunk. Then he stopped. Dick stood motionless for a few minutes before he turned back towards the door.
Silence?
Walking back to the barred door, he realized that he was alone. Alone in his cell. Alone on this floor. There were no other prisoners.
"I knew this was a set up," he said aloud as he realized that if he were in Arkham, there would be other prisoners in the adjacent cells. He started to smile; but it faded as soon as it appeared, "unless ..." He couldn't finish the sentence aloud. 'Unless this is how they process new prisoners. Difficult prisoners.'
Dick sat on his bunk, his back against the wall. Running his hands through his jet-black hair, he let out a deep sigh. Sitting alone in the darkness of his cell, he thought of Bruce. Was he looking for him? Or did he know where he was? Was this real? No, it couldn't be real! Could it?
To be continued....