Project: Arkham, Part 2.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
******************
"My Brain began to laugh
I mumbled-like a fool
And tho' 'tis Years ago-that Day
My Brain keeps giggling-still
And Something's odd-within
That Person that I was
And this One-do not feel the same
Could it be Madness-this?"
Emily Dickinson
******************
The Riddler felt as though he were floating in blackness for a long time. There were odd sparks of colors and shapes in front of his eyes and he felt like he was stuck in a giant kaleidoscope of some sort. But gradually, the darkness faded and he became aware of himself again. He was lying in a dimly-lit room but there was enough light to tell that he was in an infirmary and that there was someone standing in the corner watching him. His initial movements made him slightly dizzy and also proved that he was shackled to the bed. He was trying to see who was in the room with him and was still too confused to trust himself to speak clearly but then the figure moved towards him, sparing him from moving further. He squinted in the darkness as the person approached until he resolved himself as Dr. Fredericks.
"Good, you're awake Mr. Nygma. It's been more than a day and I was beginning to worry but you seem to be responding to the treatment as expected." It took several minutes for Riddler's fogged brain to process the words but then he remembered where he was and what had happened. He'd been moved from the chair to one of the hospital beds after he'd blacked out. With great effort, he managed to turn over enough to see the others were also shackled to their beds. The Ventriloquist was staring at the ceiling but he turned to look in Nygma's direction with an odd little smile.
"Hello, Mr. Nygma. Feeling better? I'm feeling much better." Poison Ivy was sleeping on her side. Her skin seemed to have a sickly pallor to it but she was breathing evenly. Scarecrow was awake but he looked like he was heavily drugged as his pupils were dilated when he slowly turned to look at Nygma. His thin face was haggard and drawn and his hands shook against the restraints. The Mad Hatter looked...older somehow. His dark blond hair looked lighter and he seemed to have shrunk a little in stature but he didn't seem to mind as he gave a cheery smile and a little wave in Nygma's direction in the middle of reciting loudly.
"Anon, to sudden silence won
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new...(*)"
"What the hell is going on?" Riddler managed to turn back to Fredericks. His head was clearing rapidly although he still felt physically weak. "What have you done to us?"
"You know, I thought Professor Crane would be the one to fully grasp my genius but he seems to be indisposed so I suppose you can fill in, so to speak, as a captive audience. The drug I injected you with is a unique elixir of my own creation. Simplistically, I guess you can say it magnifies one's basic nature by altering the brain and body at a cellular level. It's really quite remarkable how varied the results are. Mr. Wesker over there has found a new clarity without the distraction of his alternate personalities. Ms. Isley seems to be reacting on a purely physical level but then her physiology was odd even before my experiment. Mr. Tetch also seems to be reacting physically. His mental state is apparently unchanged at present although the experiment is just beginning.
And then there's you and Professor Crane. The two of you are reacting both physically and mentally to the drug. It's really quite exciting. I'm sure you've noticed a change in your thought processes. My guess is that when the process is done in a few days, your own genius will be enhanced and refined. I can't wait to see what effect the drug will have on the mental state of someone like the Joker or the physically mutated Killer Croc but that will have to wait until this initial experiment is over."
The Riddler stared at the man as he struggled not to react. Being in Arkham, he'd heard all sorts of crazy plans, proclamations, and boasts; hell, he'd made plenty of his own. But he'd never heard anything as crazy as someone wanting to make the Joker MORE Joker-like. Although he liked the thought of his mind being enhanced, he definitely hated being drugged and then altered against his will. And what did Fredericks mean by physical changes? And why were the guards standing there watching all of this and not contacting Arkham? His mind was beginning to accelerate again but with a great effort, he cleared his thoughts and the effects subsided. This couldn't be good. Apparently just thinking about questions made the drug work faster. But he was the Riddler! Questions were his 'raison d'etre'. How was he supposed to avoid thinking in questions? And how long before...? He shuddered as it happened again. It felt like machinery buzzing in the back of his skull.
Dr. Fredericks had gone off to talk to one of the guards as Nygma pondered, or tried not to ponder, what he was going to do. Now he returned and the guard followed him over carrying a tray of food. The guard helped him to sit up and the tray was placed in his lap. As the guard bent down with the tray, Nygma noticed the glint of something metallic above his ear, half-hidden by his helmet. It looked familiar somehow but the food smelled delicious and he was trying not to think too hard so he dismissed it and began to eat.
"I knew you'd be hungry, Mr. Nygma. Rich here will take the tray when you're done and escort you to the lavatory. I'll be back shortly." The guard stood at attention by his bed but Riddler ignored him, intent on eating every scrap of the chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables he'd been given. Funny, he'd been nauseous when he first woke up but now he felt ravenous. Maybe it was a side effect of the drug. He gulped the last mouthful and drained the glass of water provided.
The guard took the tray away and then unshackled him from the bed and placed specialized handcuffs, designed just for him, on his wrists. He followed the guard to a small room off to the side. Between the continuing physical weakness and his concentrated effort not to think in questions, making escape plans was not a consideration at the moment and he was not one to resist just for the sake of resisting like Crane so he simply went about his business as the guard turned his back. He was washing his hands when he happened to glance up at the small, plastic-like mirror and suddenly froze in shock.
The reflection staring back at him was that of a very sick man. He looked like he'd lost ten pounds in only a day. He'd always been lean but now he looked almost as skinny as Crane. His face looked thinner and there were dark bags under his eyes. Worse yet, his thick reddish-brown hair seemed to have thinned and he could see the gleam of his scalp through the strands. He looked like someone who was undergoing radiation treatments. If he looked this terrible after only one day, how would he look when the drug's effects had run its course? With a violent cry, he tried to rush the guard in a fit of blind, unthinking panic. The guard was ready for him, of course and wrestled him to the ground with ease. As he was injected again, with a sedative this time, his mind began to drift and he realized what the metallic object behind the guard's ear was. It was one of the Mad Hatter's control chips...
**********
*This is, naturally, a quote from the poem at the beginning of Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
******************
"My Brain began to laugh
I mumbled-like a fool
And tho' 'tis Years ago-that Day
My Brain keeps giggling-still
And Something's odd-within
That Person that I was
And this One-do not feel the same
Could it be Madness-this?"
Emily Dickinson
******************
The Riddler felt as though he were floating in blackness for a long time. There were odd sparks of colors and shapes in front of his eyes and he felt like he was stuck in a giant kaleidoscope of some sort. But gradually, the darkness faded and he became aware of himself again. He was lying in a dimly-lit room but there was enough light to tell that he was in an infirmary and that there was someone standing in the corner watching him. His initial movements made him slightly dizzy and also proved that he was shackled to the bed. He was trying to see who was in the room with him and was still too confused to trust himself to speak clearly but then the figure moved towards him, sparing him from moving further. He squinted in the darkness as the person approached until he resolved himself as Dr. Fredericks.
"Good, you're awake Mr. Nygma. It's been more than a day and I was beginning to worry but you seem to be responding to the treatment as expected." It took several minutes for Riddler's fogged brain to process the words but then he remembered where he was and what had happened. He'd been moved from the chair to one of the hospital beds after he'd blacked out. With great effort, he managed to turn over enough to see the others were also shackled to their beds. The Ventriloquist was staring at the ceiling but he turned to look in Nygma's direction with an odd little smile.
"Hello, Mr. Nygma. Feeling better? I'm feeling much better." Poison Ivy was sleeping on her side. Her skin seemed to have a sickly pallor to it but she was breathing evenly. Scarecrow was awake but he looked like he was heavily drugged as his pupils were dilated when he slowly turned to look at Nygma. His thin face was haggard and drawn and his hands shook against the restraints. The Mad Hatter looked...older somehow. His dark blond hair looked lighter and he seemed to have shrunk a little in stature but he didn't seem to mind as he gave a cheery smile and a little wave in Nygma's direction in the middle of reciting loudly.
"Anon, to sudden silence won
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new...(*)"
"What the hell is going on?" Riddler managed to turn back to Fredericks. His head was clearing rapidly although he still felt physically weak. "What have you done to us?"
"You know, I thought Professor Crane would be the one to fully grasp my genius but he seems to be indisposed so I suppose you can fill in, so to speak, as a captive audience. The drug I injected you with is a unique elixir of my own creation. Simplistically, I guess you can say it magnifies one's basic nature by altering the brain and body at a cellular level. It's really quite remarkable how varied the results are. Mr. Wesker over there has found a new clarity without the distraction of his alternate personalities. Ms. Isley seems to be reacting on a purely physical level but then her physiology was odd even before my experiment. Mr. Tetch also seems to be reacting physically. His mental state is apparently unchanged at present although the experiment is just beginning.
And then there's you and Professor Crane. The two of you are reacting both physically and mentally to the drug. It's really quite exciting. I'm sure you've noticed a change in your thought processes. My guess is that when the process is done in a few days, your own genius will be enhanced and refined. I can't wait to see what effect the drug will have on the mental state of someone like the Joker or the physically mutated Killer Croc but that will have to wait until this initial experiment is over."
The Riddler stared at the man as he struggled not to react. Being in Arkham, he'd heard all sorts of crazy plans, proclamations, and boasts; hell, he'd made plenty of his own. But he'd never heard anything as crazy as someone wanting to make the Joker MORE Joker-like. Although he liked the thought of his mind being enhanced, he definitely hated being drugged and then altered against his will. And what did Fredericks mean by physical changes? And why were the guards standing there watching all of this and not contacting Arkham? His mind was beginning to accelerate again but with a great effort, he cleared his thoughts and the effects subsided. This couldn't be good. Apparently just thinking about questions made the drug work faster. But he was the Riddler! Questions were his 'raison d'etre'. How was he supposed to avoid thinking in questions? And how long before...? He shuddered as it happened again. It felt like machinery buzzing in the back of his skull.
Dr. Fredericks had gone off to talk to one of the guards as Nygma pondered, or tried not to ponder, what he was going to do. Now he returned and the guard followed him over carrying a tray of food. The guard helped him to sit up and the tray was placed in his lap. As the guard bent down with the tray, Nygma noticed the glint of something metallic above his ear, half-hidden by his helmet. It looked familiar somehow but the food smelled delicious and he was trying not to think too hard so he dismissed it and began to eat.
"I knew you'd be hungry, Mr. Nygma. Rich here will take the tray when you're done and escort you to the lavatory. I'll be back shortly." The guard stood at attention by his bed but Riddler ignored him, intent on eating every scrap of the chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables he'd been given. Funny, he'd been nauseous when he first woke up but now he felt ravenous. Maybe it was a side effect of the drug. He gulped the last mouthful and drained the glass of water provided.
The guard took the tray away and then unshackled him from the bed and placed specialized handcuffs, designed just for him, on his wrists. He followed the guard to a small room off to the side. Between the continuing physical weakness and his concentrated effort not to think in questions, making escape plans was not a consideration at the moment and he was not one to resist just for the sake of resisting like Crane so he simply went about his business as the guard turned his back. He was washing his hands when he happened to glance up at the small, plastic-like mirror and suddenly froze in shock.
The reflection staring back at him was that of a very sick man. He looked like he'd lost ten pounds in only a day. He'd always been lean but now he looked almost as skinny as Crane. His face looked thinner and there were dark bags under his eyes. Worse yet, his thick reddish-brown hair seemed to have thinned and he could see the gleam of his scalp through the strands. He looked like someone who was undergoing radiation treatments. If he looked this terrible after only one day, how would he look when the drug's effects had run its course? With a violent cry, he tried to rush the guard in a fit of blind, unthinking panic. The guard was ready for him, of course and wrestled him to the ground with ease. As he was injected again, with a sedative this time, his mind began to drift and he realized what the metallic object behind the guard's ear was. It was one of the Mad Hatter's control chips...
**********
*This is, naturally, a quote from the poem at the beginning of Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."