Day 5:
Today I got my first big break at Arkham. As I opened my case file, I saw the paperwork for one Arnold Wesker- more commonly known as the Ventriloquist. My first big-time patient- and so much the better that I was the one that apprehended him last night! I could hardly wait.
When he was rolled into my office, I grimaced at the condition he was in. He had a bandage around his head, a large black eye, and an arm in a sling, and as I was the one responsible for these injuries, I can't help but feel badly about them. In case you were wondering, I was fortunate- the painting was retrieved intact except for a slightly cracked outer frame- the actual canvas being untouched. Looks like Scarface is a worse shot than I thought- of course, he was aiming through blurry, dazed eyes.
I waited in silence for Wesker to make the first move. I feel it helps if the patient directs the conversation.
"He's not dead, you know." he finally announced.
"Who's not dead?"
"Scarface."
"How could he die? He's just a doll." I replied, knowing full well this wasn't the half of it.
Wesker let out a small chuckle. "That's what you think. But it's not like that. He's real. Sometimes, he calls me on the phone."
"What does he tell you?"
"He makes fun of me, calls me Dummy. He threatens me. Oh lord I shouldn't have said that." He fell silent.
I muttered softly. "What a mook."
Wesker gasped. "No! you shoudn't have said that! He'll kill you!" I
It's worse than I thought. Perhaps I should try a different approach? "Tell Scarface I'm very sorry- I didn't mean to disrespect him. Perhaps I should talk to him directly? To apologize."
"Yes, he'd like that. Pick up the phone, please."
I decided to humor him and lifted up the phone. Imagine my surprise when I heard Scarface's voice.
"Doctor. I have decided to forgive you for your insult. I trust it will not happen again?"
It took me a moment to remember that my patient is an accomplished ventriloquist. Amazing- Scarface's elocution seemed to have shifted from the streets of Brooklyn to The Godfather overnight. I began to wonder just how complete Scarface's consciousness is.
"No it won't, Mr. Scarface."
"Good. Now stay away from my boy Dummy, you hear?"
"I'm sorry, Mr. Scarface. It's part of his treatment."
"Nonsense-Dummy is fine. I get it though Doctor- I can read you like a book. You need to spend a certain amount of time in "therapy" with Dummy- for your job and all. I understand completely. Just don't try to turn Dummy against me, Doctor. Capisce? Wonderful. Have a nice day."
I suddenly noticed the dial tone in my ear. That conversation was the single most unnerving experience I have ever had in Arkham. I understand now why Arkham has only a 16 percent retention rate for staff and a 5 percent recovery rate for patients. But I wasn't too worried. I'd faced Scarface before, and beaten him. Decapitated him, in fact.
Arnold suddenly leaned over to me and whispered "You see? He's everywhere. He'll come for me."
"And nobody can stop him?"
"Only one pers-two people. Batman- and Ivanhoe."
"Ivanhoe?" Wow, he's talking about me!
"My mother used to read about him- but I never dreamed he was actually real!"
"A moment, Arnold." I walked out of the room, shut the door behind me, leaned on it heavily, and let out a deep breath. Is my alter ego more helpful than I am? Suddenly, I hit on a brainstorm.
No, no way! What am I thinking? This plan is harebrained, ill-concieved, and most of all, stupid!
But think of the payoff if it works. What do I have to lose, anyway? The man's practically a puppet!
Your life! What if he realizes you're -get a codename already!
Shut up, subconscious.
Don't say I didn't warn you...
Internal monologue completed, and visions of gangland executions dancing in my head, I pull my lab coat over my head and walk back into the room.
"Doctor?"
"No, Arnold. It's Ivanhoe." I say, shifting into my more superheroic voice.
"The doctor is bound and gagged in the bathroom. I've been listening in on your conversation, and I just want you to know that if that mook Scarface comes for you, I'll get him. Or- Batman will." could Batman actually be real?
"Oh- thank you, thank you. I knew you could help me, Ivanhoe." Looking back, I can't actually believe this scheme worked- looks like you have to fight madness with madness sometimes.
"It's what I do, Arnold. Goodbye." I walked out of the room, and pulled the labcoat off my head. I can't believe he actually believed me-but then again, I was telling the truth. A few minutes later, when Arnold cautiously opened the office door, I stumbled out of the bathroom with a hand to my head.
"Ow... sorry, I must have blacked out- or hit my head on the doorframe. Wierd."
A muttered "Ivanhoe...".
"Well, looks like all the time we have today. See you tomorrow, Albert."
That was a surreal experience- but I think I might have actually helped him, strange as it seems. Looking at Wesker's case file, apparently he had almost six months of continued improval before his breakout and the incident at the museum. I would like to help him, if I can- although my main mission at Arkham is fame and fortune, I'm still a doctor, and that means I help people.
Tonight, however, was fairly uneventful. I continued to drop chess knights at all of my crimebusts- and their numbers are growing by the night. I'm beginnign to get a clearer picture of where the crime "hot-spots" are in Gotham. Anyhow, We'll see what tomorrow brings-I'm interested to know how the whole Ventriloquist situation pans out. I think my action now were a bit rash, but we'll see. Sweet dreams, Journal
-Ivanhoe (No. too obscure, and too many "hoe" puns to be made. The situation is really getting a bit desperate.)
