Gotham's Discontent
Chapter Four: Mandatory Recreation
Her week of confinement to her cell ended on the last hour of a Friday night; Laura Greenburg led Deedee through the corridor by the arm—"You got a really firm grip, Squirt; how about you ease up a little," Deedee had said with a click of her tongue. Once they entered through the reinforced, heavily barred double doors, Greenburg savagely pushed her over threshold, causing Deedee to stumble into the community room and emitting a slighted, dangerous chuckle from her.
Before Deedee could get closer to Laura Greenburg, the young officer sealed the door shut.
"You shove me any harder," said Deedee, staring at Laura through the steel bars, "You'll be a spitting image of your old man. How come you act so rough and tough when I can't get in within an inch of you, huh?"
"Walk, Valeska." Laura Greenburg hissed, pointing to the community tables over Deedee's shoulders.
Deedee leaned forward, "I don't think you'd act so mean if you weren't wearing that cute little badge on your chest, Squirt."
"I said walk." Laura repeated bitterly, though Deedee noticed that she had taken a step back.
Deedee, knowing there was little else could be said or done considering the barrier set between them, shrugged her off, turned on her heel, and strode to her familiar table where her camaraderie was seated in their usual arrangement.
Greenwood was snacking on an old rice cake, wearing a dissatisfied expression on his face, clearly disappointed with lack of seasoning for their disgusting dessert; Sionis sipped his water, but suddenly smirked at her as Deedee took her seat beside Jerome, whom shared her expression; Aaron finished drawing a picture of a stick person who resembled strongly of a woman on fire— "It's you," he said as Deedee had taken her seat, sliding the scrap of paper toward her.
Dobbs uttered an immature chuckle, glancing non-subtly between Jerome and Deedee knowingly.
A wry smile pressed tightly on her face, Deedee slid into her seat beside Jerome, adjacent to Sionis, glancing at Laura Greenburg with detest. Upon witnessing the conjugal visit between Jerome and Deedee, Greenburg had become somewhat heavy-handed in her threats, but the moment that there was a chance that she could be left alone with the eldest Valeska, it seemed that the young recruit would try to make herself her friend. She was a newbie trying to fill her daddy's shoes; and it might have worked, but all it did was irritate Deedee. A sort of two-faced bitch whom acted hard in front of others but was really an easy target when left alone, Deedee had become somewhat irked over the last week of confinement with only the recruit for company.
"Enjoy your week of solitude, Deedee?" asked Sionis casually, peering over the rims of his reading glasses as he turned a page in his book without reading it. "I take it that Jerome delivered my regards, hm?"
"No worries," said Deedee softly, noticeably trying to shrug off Greenburg's behavior from her shoulder, "For all intents and purposes"—she smirked toward Jerome, whom shared it mutually—"It was worth the punishment."
"That new guard of yours," remarked Greenwood, glancing over Deedee's shoulder to peer at the angry-looking recruit through the barred doors. "Greenburg, huh? Luck of the draw or something greater, you think? Being that ol' cocksucker's kid."
Jerome snorted mid-drink of his glass of water, "You know those 'elite' types, Greenwood. She only got the job because her pops was chief of security. The rich kids always skim off the top; probably took the job away from someone who's more qualified. But it was her dad she replaced…" He raised an eyebrow with obvious discontent, "And he was an idiot."
Greenwood tossed the leftovers of his rice cake onto his tray. "She's definitely better to look at then ol' Larry."
Sionis rolled his eyes, "You can't eat Greenburg, Robert."
Deedee glanced over her shoulder, following Greenwood's gaze.
The recruit in question that had unintentionally caught Greenwood's eye was admittedly fetching: despite her resemblance to her father's dark hair and dark eyes, Laura—when she wasn't being a cold bitch—could possess an aura of vital innocence and a well-rounded childhood despite her paternal influence being quite harsh at his first impression. Lawrence Greenburg might have been a hard ass while working at the asylum, but Deedee had a gut intuition that perhaps he was a better father to his children. Laura had said that she knew that he was cruel man; it was possible the old fart had taken his work home with him and bragged about his 'many vast' accomplishments in his work force.
A pang of jealousy curled in Deedee's stomach: Must have been nice to have a gentle childhood.
"She's mine," Deedee said quietly.
Sionis raised an eyebrow, his eyes shifting from her to the officer in question.
Jerome, whom had been listening casually, turned his head in Deedee's direction, hearing the envy in her voice. He didn't think it was because of her looks; something more applicable which made Deedee's face contort into an ugly expression of disapproval seemed to have poisoned her with a blood lust.
He and Deedee had never had it easy in Haley's Circus; every day had been 24 hours of trying to survive—be it from a daily beating from Mother or skiving off a dinner with one of her sleazy visitors only to come home to a world of nagging, bitch-moaning in the closest room beside theirs. Deedee was a jealous person—not just for whomever caught Jerome's eye, but in all matters of their lifestyle. And her temper never helped ease the avarice. The fact that their own father had tried (and damn near succeeded) to throw Deedee under the bus for Jerome's crime didn't relieve any coveted desire that Laura's father had been actively loving in her life before she took him out of it.
In Deedee's eyes, Laura Greenburg's spoon-fed childhood and enduring parents were reason enough to take her out.
"C'mon," Greenwood said, lightly slamming his hand on the table in frustration, "I could show that girl a good time…"
Sionis frowned, "She's new, Robert. Gotta break the new officers in first to see what their price is before you whack one of them. That's how we do things here in Arkham, remember?"
Greenwood turned to him, clearly annoyed, "So your man Jerome can sneak into her room"—he pointed at Deedee—"and have a little dessert of his own but I can't have a little of my own? And I wasn't even talking about actually killing the little bitch—But it's a bit of a contradiction because Deedee killed an officer already—"
"Greenburg was a fucking pig," said Jerome, interrupting Greenwood with a calm disposition. "We all know he wasn't going to work out much longer."
"So I'll have Laura Greenburg on the side, like a little dessert; what's the difference between you sneaking into Deedee's room and me gettin' with—"
Dobbs coined in, "The only difference between Jerome sneaking into Deedee's room and you slumming it with the new guard is consent."
Deedee wasn't the only one to express shock at the statement; even Aaron along with the rest of the table stared at him. Dobbs was a known rapist; and to mention consent as if he were speaking about the laws of marriage—a proper vow—It was incredible. He could be incredibly daft sometimes; but every now and again, Dobbs would spout something eloquently enough that perhaps there had been some kind of cunning alongside him after all.
I keep telling them that he's dangerous, Deedee thought, once more writing a mental note to keep her ass on a swivel around him. This would be why.
"I could show her a good time." Greenwood muttered adamantly. His eyes watched Laura Greenburg walk away from the platform. "I'd tell her, 'Baby, why don't you step into my humble abode…?'"
"Said the spider to the fly," Jerome whispered within Deedee's earshot.
Deedee chuckled. She turned her sight on the drawing that Aaron had made. A stick person with fiery red hair and what looked like flames dancing around her. Dobbs patted Aaron on the back approvingly, assuring him that the likeness was uncanny. Aaron smiled cheerfully.
Sometimes, Deedee felt a pang of homesickness when Aaron would portray her, still, as a circus performer. Life had been shit in the Valeska trailer; but she had actually enjoyed her performance, despite the number of flesh wounds and scars that she had acquired through flippant mistakes and over-interactive audience members.
She made a sad smile, thanked Aaron for his lovely drawing, and did as she had several times before that: Deedee folded the drawing in halves, quarters, and then pocketed the fantasy inside the cup of her dress, patting Aaron on the top of his brutish knuckles appreciatively.
"What'd I miss while I was in the can, hm?" Deedee asked with a brief sigh. "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"
"Oh, you'll love this," Jerome turned to her instantly, wanting to be the first to inform her, suddenly beaming. "According to the warden's latest update of how Arkham is going to hell in a hand basket, the warden wants to put on a dance." He paused to gather Deedee's overall reaction, which was a dumbfounded, open-mouthed stare as if his punchline had swept over her head…
"A dance." Deedee said slowly.
"Actually," Jerome propped himself in his seat with a swift jump, sitting on the back of his chair with a grin, "What he called it was a 'ball'; but how extravagant could it be when we're all wearing the same suit and dress, ya know?"
Deedee stared at him. "Arkham's been shit. But a dance sounds quite lovely: Better than a group session anyhow…"
"All the trimmings," added in Sionis, "Music, a waltz, line dancing, and according to the Warden…" He made a soft snicker, "It's mandatory."
"I ain't dancin'," said Greenwood grumpily.
"You have to," said Dobbs, suddenly infantile, as if the choices were to take an exam or fail. "It's mandatory. We have to pick dates and everything."
"I. Ain't. Dancin'," said Greenwood, looming threateningly toward Dobbs as if the prospect of a tango would bring him over the edge of fuckery. "Do I look like a fuckin' dancer?"
Jerome agreed with Greenwood, "Actually, you look like you've got two left feet."
Greenwood pitched his rice cake at Jerome. It bounced off his wind-swept red head and fell to the floor. Jerome remained unfazed.
He turned to Deedee, his voice noticeably attentive and kind—The switch from his usual sarcastic tone that he used with present company softened in comparison to the way he spoke to his sister. The two of them were legally insane according to Hugo Strange, but they showed very human qualities when they socialized together.
"I know that you've been melancholy; I don't pretend to know why. Since Mom died—" Jerome began tenderly—
"You killed her, she didn't die—" Greenwood had tried to chime in snidely.
"Have another rice cake, Greenwood," Jerome snapped at him irritably, throwing his own bland dessert at Greenwood's face to shut him up. "Family moment." He turned his attention back to Deedee, "Anyway…You miss the Circus; I know that much. I know that you said you wouldn't want to spend the rest of your life in a cage; and that's what's happened. But perhaps the dance would perk you up a bit, huh?"
Deedee shrugged half-heartedly, "Jerome, it's a dance inside Arkham Asylum…"
Jerome frowned slightly. He slid off the back of his seat to stand on his feet and offered her his hand. Curiously expectant, Deedee laced her fingers within his— "Ah!" Deedee breathed a surprised gasp and Jerome pulled off the table bench and got her to her feet. He's stronger these days…Jerome grinned impishly as he wrapped a hand around her waist and dropped her close to the floor in an effortless dip.
Deedee smirked at him in amusement.
"There's that smile," Jerome drawled. "Just a dance in Arkham, hm? Just imagine, now, music in the background—and that bitch Greenburg couldn't intervene? How's that painted picture now, Sister?"
"A better view from down here, Brother," Deedee returned, musing the light bouncing off Jerome's sharp jawline.
"That's my girl," crooned Jerome, straightening his back to let Deedee stand up straight.
Deedee patted his cheek affectionately. A genuine smile met her eyes.
"Guess the pretty redhead is taken," Greenwood muttered, glancing at Dobbs.
Jerome bit the inside of his cheek, furtively glancing at Greenwood. Deedee shook her head dismissively, leaned forward, "Probably should take turns getting into trouble, Brother. We're still in-deep with Greenburg to make waves over a silly comment."
"Who are you taking?" asked Dobbs.
Sionis shrugged, answered out of turn, "Probably Lucy Goosey."
"The chick with the doll?" asked Greenwood judgmentally. "She ain't parting with that old thing to hold onto your hip, Richard."
"You treat the doll with respect, she'll treat you with respect," Sionis said. "You're terrible with women, Robert. You gotta know how to play them. No offense, Deedee; but Jerome knows what I'm talking about."
Deedee inwardly rolled her eyes. There's a small price to pay while enjoying the company of male inmates. There's always that narcissist who thinks they know how to woo women. Deedee made a half-shrug when Greenwood glanced in her direction for confirmation,
"Hey," Deedee said with a half-smile, "Some men have it, some men don't. Others are just better at playing the game, I guess."
Lucy Goosey. To Deedee's knowledge, she was not as infantile as Aaron; she didn't reserve much room for such eloquent knowledge as Sionis, nor did she frame brute strength like Greenwood. She wasn't charismatic like Jerome; nor as temperamental as Deedee. Lucy's attachment to the messy bundle of cotton, twine, and two buttons had stemmed from a childhood of neglect; and she latched herself onto any man whom deemed her doll as an actual, living person that needed to be acknowledged.
Warden Carlson Grey wasn't exactly the prime picture of a good coordinator for an establishment; it had been Warden Grey whom had his hand in the cookie jar every time a new patient was admitted. The more people attended his fine establishment, the more money he could racketeer from it. Any criminal off the street could make a good bargain to get any of them out of the asylum if the bargaining chip was valuable enough. For all they knew, the Warden actually knew about Sionis and his abilities to get things in and out of the institution; and one reason why: Richard Sionis was loaded.
The fact that Warden Grey thought that the Asylum needed a dance rather than better reform programs showed just how much faith he had in reform to begin with; as even the patients knew, most returned within a year, even after they were given their legally sane certificates. Just a piece of paper, yes, but very powerful pieces of paper that held up in the eyes of a court. Warden Grey thought the best thing for Arkham was a dance, not empathetic guards in a place such as this.
It was a ploy toward some kind of government intervention: either taxes or inspection, something to rise the spirits of his clients before someone or something could check in on the establishment. Whatever it was, its clients would commend the Warden's requirements or risk solitary confinement or worse punishments.