Gotham's Discontent
A/N: This was a nice break from the usual tension of the story. Hope you enjoy :)
Chapter Eight: Sionisism
"So, even if there was a chance of you getting out of here," said Sionis with an amused expression on his face, "you just signed your life away, hm?"
"I like to wave at the opportunities as they pass by," said Deedee sarcastically, aggressively stabbing a fork into a slap of processed meat on her tray.
"Doesn't seem so," said Dobbs warily. "It's like you're trying to butcher your—"
"Therapist," Sionis said, looking up from the evening newspaper. "Playing with your food isn't going to make you feel better."
"I know what would," Jerome chimed in out of the side of his mouth, glancing at Deedee curiously as she withdrew the prongs from her tray.
Deedee frowned at the lot of them. "I hate," she hissed the word, "having my brain picked at by people who have never lived the lives that we have. The placation, the patronizing, condescending voice that doctors use as if they could ever imagine—" Deedee, still fuming, shoved her tray off the table angrily. It landed a couple feet away with a clang, drawing gazes from other patients in the community room. Jerome gave one look at the lonely, messy tray on the floor and turned to Deedee,
"Your temper got the better of you again. It happens," he said with a careless shrug. "The old man probably can't remember the last time he felt any sort of impulse. Probably envies us for giving in to temptation. Most people do. It's why everyone on the outside lives their day-in, day-out activities as if they're miserable with their so-called freedom. Just the routine here…It's mind-numbing."
"I don't care that I won't get out," Deedee said, turning to Sionis. "I just get so tired of talking about feelings and thoughts and 'Well, how does that make you feel' and it's just so—"
"Boring." Jerome agreed with a low eye roll. He had to agree with her because his own group therapy sessions had become dull, especially since most of the entertaining crowd in Arkham had either been confined in their own cells due to their violent, erratic behavior. Perhaps if he acted more erratic and insane, he might be exempted from group therapy. Or just walk out like his sister; it seemed to have worked for her.
Sionis nodded as in response to the conversation, a brow raising with interest, and he set the newspaper down on the table. He had entirely neglected to his meal, and he slid his tray to Aaron, whom had eyed the small slice of deflated cheesecake for the last half hour. Deedee felt a small pang of sadness at the thought that if she hadn't thrown her tray, she'd have given Aaron her cheesecake as well.
"Deedee, Sweetie," Sionis said, turning to her as he folded his hands on the table. "Outsiders don't understand that everyone has an instinct to kill; and those who deny it are usually the ones who really want to do it, but are afraid. Either it's because society's standards or perhaps their livelihood would be threatened—"
"They don't know that's what they need," said Greenwood. "If they could just feel what we feel—"
"I'm not talking about emotion, Robert," said Sionis. "A lioness doesn't stand on trial for slaughtering a wildebeest for her king, nor does a shark try to explain why he had to kill five human beings for entering his waters—they simply do what they were born to do and no one questions it. Killing is a sport. It's nothing to be ashamed of."
"You make it sound so noble," said Deedee.
"Darwinism makes it so," said Sionis.
"Eat or be eaten," Greenwood remarked, and he took a huge chunk out of his processed steak using his bare hands.
Sionis gave him a look, but nodded, wearing a defeated expression on his face, "In your case, Robert, I suppose that is true."
Deedee gave a small chuckle.
"I don't know, Sionis," said Jerome, "I don't really think killing felt like a sport. A rush, sure," his face broke into a wide grin, "But a sport? Meh."
Sionis gave a handsome smirk, "That's because you've only killed one person, Jerome. You took a splash in a blood bath. But a seasoned killer has a taste for it…like me." He turned to Deedee. "It's just how you can pick out the best sort of people. When I was running my firm, it's how I would employ the best workers—"
"When you weren't chilling on your yacht?" Greenwood remarked sarcastically, however Sionis gave him a serious look,
"Yes, Robert, when I wasn't chilling on my yacht." Sionis said. He turned back to Deedee, "I took five of the applicants who wanted to join my firm, and whomever won the best sort of cage match got an immediate spot—of course, all the men had to fight. If any women applied, if it just really depended on how much they wanted the job."
Deedee rolled her eyes, "Of course, you're that sort of a man, aren't you, Richard?"
"Darwinism," said Sionis. "We're all good at something. Some are great at killing; others are great at…persuasion."
"Mm-hm," Deedee muttered as she drank her apple juice through her straw. "So, Greenburg and Jerome could attest that I'm at the top of that food chain, then," she added.
Jerome choked through his slice of cheesecake, and he nodded with a grin. He held his hand up, "I'm also at the top of the food chain if we're metaphorically listing fucking as a means of survival."
It was Dobbs' turn to choke on his cheesecake.
Greenwood gave a hearty chuckle. "I also would like to add my name to that list."
"You eat your women," said Dobbs.
"A distinction without a difference if you're doing it right," said Sionis.
Aaron, who was feeling a bit left out of the conversation and whom had been enjoying his meal, added, "I like cake."
Jerome grinned madly, and he patted Aaron cheerfully on his back with an open palm, "Thatta boy, Aaron. Of course, you do."
Deedee shook her head, but felt ten times better leaving the community room than when she had entered it.