Chapter 15:
"Stranger Things Have Happened"
Red Robin never thought he would be here of all places in the dead of night.
Arkham Asylum was the quintessential representation of the utmost frightening but modernized gothic medieval castle found in the worse places in the world, doubling as a medical mental institution for the insane. It was an ever expanding facility due to the unending psychotic villains being housed within its walls and a new extension was being built. He was told it would house another dozen criminals of the most sinister and vile.
He parked his motorcycle out in front, and as he began to dismount, he heard the sound of the front doors of Arkham push open. He paused for a moment, watching the doors, and then saw two security guards and the Warden exit. He called ahead to say that he was coming and the Warden said that he would be there to greet him personally after his request to see a prisoner was granted.
Drake walked the steps to the front entrance and shook hands with the Warden. "Thanks for accepting my request, sir," he said.
"When you called I was just leaving and the Night Shift had just begun," the Warden said, walking with Red Robin into the main vestibule, which was a sealed room with another set of doors. "You're lucky you caught me doing some last minute paper work. Your request is quite unorthodox, but given your reason and its implications, I thought it wise to grant it."
Drake thanked him again.
When the outer doors were locked, the Warden used a fingerprint reader and renal scanner in a computer console as authorization to enter the inner foyay, both guards went through the same procedure. Security was paramount in this prison. Red Robin wore gloves and a mask, so it wasn't possible for him to add himself to the authorized database, so the Warden grandfathered him through, by-passing the security lockouts with a secret digital code on a panel.
Every visitor needed to be authorized to enter Arkham Asylum.
But Red Robin was more than trusted and had been at Arkham on many other occasions with deposits of sadistic and mentally ill criminals, so he was well known. Most recently, he helped Bruce and Damian add a sinister villain, or rather bring back an escapee, known as Professor Pyg: a deranged man who enjoyed wearing a pig mask and cutting up his victims as if they were ham, turning some of his victims into Dollotrons, for Pyg to use as his own personal army by way of surgery and mind-altering drugs. Pyg had the knowledge to use such drugs to cause people to experience hallucinations and delusional behaviour, but after analyzing the sample he took from Dick, Pyg couldn't help him. The formula was much too complex.
Even though Drake hadn't been there for the others' first encounter with Professor Pyg—Dick and Damian were the first to encounter him during the period when Bruce was missing—just reading the reports submitted in the Batcomputer was enough to make him sick to his stomach. Lazio Valentin and his minions were truly sick people.
Entering the main foyay, Drake was already a little nervous, and the large sign that hung on one of the walls over the reception desk as they walked to an elevator at the end, that read: BE EVER VIGILANT, didn't give him any comfort. Dozens of the worst criminals resided here and most of them wanted the Batfamily dead.
The Warden entered a private digital code into the elevator panel to activate it. Everyone had a separate code for its use, it was to prevent criminals from using the elevator to escape. But there were so many security procedures in Arkham, escape was next to impossible unless you had insight into the facilities workings, or help—which Professor Pyg did. But Pyg had been caught and the guard who helped him removed and jailed, and security procedures beefed up.
The elevator rose to the ninth floor where two more guards awaited their arrival, both armed. For a split moment, Red Robin tensed up. The two guards on the ground floor had escorted him and the Warden in the elevator, so two more guards would constitute an ambush. Considering the recent events regarding Nightwing and Scarecrow's Fear Germ, it was no wonder he felt a little nervous. He had not even told anyone that he was coming to Arkham.
Luckily, his fears were unfounded, and the Warden explained that the added security on this floor in particular was paramount. Some of the most ruthless criminals in Gotham resided on the ninth floor. And as Drake passed the likes of them, they screaming at him through their bars, threatening to slaughter him and the rest of the Batfamily if they got out, he told himself to remain ever vigilant and didn't allow their taunts to unnerve him.
When they circled the rotunda-like floor, they came to a half-moon iron cell door marked with the designation: PRISONER #26-F9.
It was a special cell, not because the prisoner had any special powers, but the man inside was so insidious in nature, with a genius-like personality, that he was designated very dangerous offender. So, the door was locked with several different remote devices—including electro-shock.
The Warden had a remote with him, Red Robin figured it disengaged all the door's locks.
A guard first looked through the bar window and then banged on the wall with a baton, touching the door would get him electrocuted. "Hey Doc, you have a very special visitor. Stay away from the door. Four armed guards are outside. No funny business!"
There was irritated grumble from inside. "This interruption is vexatious and untimely," came a well spoken voice. "I have no wish to engage in an unprolific escapade, such as battling armed security persons that could sound my demise quicker than it takes to breath." The prisoner gruffly exhaled. "What I do have an issue is, that I am engaged in a good book. I do not wish to be disturbed."
"Then mark your page, Doctor. You can pick up where you left off later," the Warden added.
"Do you recognize my voice, Doctor?" spoke Red Robin. "Or would you rather be called Professor? You have both a professorship and several doctorates, so either one will be fine with me."
Suddenly, the sound of a book snapping close was heard. There was a momentary pause, then: "Oh yes, your voice is very familiar to me—Red Robin. You may enter. The others are denied. And you can call me Doctor, for a change of pace."
The Warden used his remote, unlocking the mechanisms and disengaged the door, then it was pulled open by one guard. Two armed guards pointed their guns at the prisoner, who stood up, as if he was properly greeting a visitor into his humble abode.
The large, hefty man was bald and had a trimmed beard minus a moustache. He smiled with white teeth and a sinister grin, behind a set of circular, tinted glasses. Dressed in standard white prison garbs, he didn't look like much. But it wasn't the man that was dangerous, it was his mind. He was completely psychotic.
"Ah, Red Robin, what a pleasure it is to see you again. It's so nice to finally engage with an intelligent person instead of having to speak with these gorillas with guns. Stimulating conversion is so hard to find. Hopefully, you can fill this void?"
"Hello, Dr. Hugo Strange," was all Red Robin said.
"You can dispense with the formalities and call me Strange."
Drake cocked his head slightly and gave a thin smirk by the irony. Hugo was a very strange man indeed.
At short glance, he saw the book that Strange was reading sitting on his bunk: The Sociopath Next Door. Oddly enough, Drake had read it. It was a little out-dated, but being in Arkham, he figured they didn't get a lot of new arrivals—in books, that is. Basically the book was about Borderline Personality Disorder and how as many as 4% of people in the world are sociopaths, whether they know it or not. If he had to say: Damian was in that percentile.
Drake cocked an eyebrow under his mask. "Interesting read, Strange, but I can direct you to something more recent—maybe even this decade. On second thought, you don't need anymore influences governing your mental state."
It was a little before his time, but Bruce had told him that Hugo Strange had such an infinity and obsession with Batman that he once tried to become Batman. Strange dressed up like Batman and even stole the Batmobile. So, it was only fitting that Strange was reading a book on BPD. However, despite his psychotic behaviour, he never showed any signs of a duel personality without full knowledge of his actions. He once attempted to use the excuse, but the judge didn't accept it.
There were a few other similar books in his cell of the same type, Drake noticed, with a quick look.
"So, what do I owe this visit, boy wonder? Oh wait, you're not Robin—that distinction belongs to another. Does it ever keep you up at night to know that you were thrown away like the preverbal trash when your replacement came onto the scene?"
Drake mentally cringed. Damn—straight for the jugular, he thought. The man knew exactly where to strike a soft spot.
Yes, he admitted, when Damian did come into the fray, he was hurt and jealous, and had quit at one point after Damian continuously taunted him, demanding the Robin title be handed over to its rightful heir. Jason even took him to a bar to drown his sorrows, even though he was underage. He didn't drink, but he was tempted—very tempted.
Dr. Hugo Strange knew—past tense—Batman's true identity, and had threatened to expose it to the world. But after a hit to the head, the doctor suffered long term amnesia in that regard and forgot it, or so he claimed. However, that didn't stop from taunting the caped crusader every chance he got.
His most recent caper that got him sent here dealt with a plot to hypnotize wealthy businessmen and stock brokers for them to tell him all their secrets—who were patients at a fake psychiatrist practise Strange concocted. Stock brokers dealt with a lot of stress on a daily bases, so they were easy pickings. Strange's plan was to make a lot of money to finance his experiments through stealing secrets and buying stocks. When he was exposed, it didn't take long for Batman to shut him down and send him back to Arkham.
And here is sat, once a brilliant man in his field—an expert in psychology, among other things—but now reduced to a petty criminal.
Strange's remark had initially bothered him, but Drake soon overcame it within moments. And he saw Strange's face switch from a smile to a frown when it failed to initiate a desired response. Because despite the past, the Batfamily was just that—a family, and despite their differences, they came together during a crises. Blood was thicker than water, the saying went. But family was forever.
"Asset…Strange," Drake replied. "You know the old axiom: there's strength in numbers. And two Robins are better than one. Now, time to play nice in the sand box, Doctor. I've come here for a specific reason and I think you can help me." He reached into a pouch on his belt and took out a PDA. Switching it on, he assessed a file, then showed Strange what he had brought up on the screen. "Being a man of science, I believe you know what this is…" he said condescendingly. Of course, Strange knew exactly what it was.
Drake had been disappointed with his other plans. He thought Bruce could help devise an antidote much like with other dangerous drugs of this sort, but he was no help. He seemed too self-involved with being dumped by Selina Kyle to care. Well, that wasn't fair, in truth, he did have other responsibilities—and was at a late night Wayne Enterprises meeting at the moment.
Other experts Drake had spoken to on online were also no help.
So, he thought of a last resort, and it was the reason for him being here. Whether Dr. Hugo Strange could help was another matter.
Strange grinned impressed. "Ah, how beautiful—it's a…" But stopped short of some long-winded scientific jargon. He pointed at the screen. "If I have to wager a guess, this has something to with Dr. Jonathan Crane, Scarecrow—Am I right?"
"Correct. This is a thermodynamic chemical formula taken from someone's blood sample who is currently infected with Crane's new Fear Germ; I had help with its equations," Drake explained. "Obviously, you recognize it."
Strange smirked smug. "I'm a doctor of psychology, not a genetic chemist. Or a brick layer. If you get the reference?" He chuckled. "Get it? The building blocks of life is DNA."
Red Robin was not amused. Drake recognized the reference to Star Trek and to its Doctor McCoy. "This is serious, Strange! Can you devise an antidote for this formula, or not?"
"It's quite sophisticated, but rudimentarily if you have the knowledge. If I could propose something…What's in it for me?"
"I'll put in a good word with the Parole Board that you helped. That's the best I can do."
Strange adjusted his eyes and looked at the PDA again, quickly scanning it over.
It was obvious to Drake the man was thinking deeply and by the expression on his face afterwards, as he casually sat back down on his bunk, and picked up his book and pretended to read, that he knew something.
"You're fighting a losing battle, Red Robin. There is no antidote to the Fear Drug. And at the frequency the 'germ' replicates within the body, there's nothing that can be done to save people infected. Think of it as an aggressive form of cancer. People will quickly go mad. And from my understanding, the authorities have refused to adhere to Crane's demands for a cure. Several people have already died from what I hear. Crane has really outdid himself this time, this is a real beauty," and Hugo Strange laughed.
Drake lowered his arm to his side and clutched the PDA in hand. If anyone could have devised a possible cure to the Fear Germ, apart from Bruce, it would've been Dr. Hugo Strange, because the germ's hallucinogenic properties fell within psychiatric medicine, that Strange was very familiar with. Drake had considering asking Victor Freeze, he was in Arkham, as well, but after the "Freeze Affair" when Victor Freeze was put on trail, speaking to him would be one-way conversion. After those events, any ally of Batman would be an enemy of the King of Cold right now.
Besides, his request for an interview with Freeze was denied.
Drake turned to leave, when Hugo Strange spoke up, his eyes still on his book: "But don't fret, young birdie, there is still hope." Red Robin snapped around to glare at Strange. "Just because you didn't like my answer, doesn't mean there isn't a solution to be had. Every problem has a qualifier. Find The Wizard and follow the yellow brick road. Only then will you get a brain and save Gotham."
Wizard? Yellow brick road? Get a brain? All were in references to the movie The Wizard of Oz. What does a movie have to do with this? Then he recalled Dick's dream that Barbara had told him about the munchkins, also in the same movie, who sang for Dorothy to follow the yellow brick road to The Wizard, for which she followed and met the Scarecrow who wanted a brain, and when he got one, the world was a different place, filled with clarity and happiness.
He still didn't understand it completely, however...
But before he could think further about it, Hugo Strange began to laugh again-and this time it was a sadistic, sinister laugh, much like the Joker, insanity personified.
Red Robin slammed Strange's cell door behind him as he left, the Warden re-engaged the locks. But even with the door closed, Strange's laughter could still be heard in the corridor, echoing, and taunting him.
Dick was running out of time. The Fear Germ had already affected him and he couldn't remain sedated forever. A cure had to be found and fast.
Red Robin slipped the PDA back into a belt pouch.
"Find the Wizard and follow the yellow brick road? Get a brain? Strange is mad," the Warder said, stating the obvious. "What the hell does that mean? Does he know something about Scarecrow's Fear Germ?"
"If he didn't, then he knows now. I just gave him the formula. He's a genius with an eidetic memory," Drake said, then mused for a moment with a finger to his chin. "Watch him very closely for the next few days, Warden. Every move he makes, every action he takes—even when he goes to the bathroom. If he begins to scribble, I want to know about it."
Red Robin and the Warden began to walk back to the elevator, the two initial guards following. "Scribble? Oh, as in formulas?"
Drake nodded. "He may be lying about knowing how to devise a cure. Or, he may, for the moment, be telling the truth. But, being the man I know he is—with obsessive compulsive personality disorder—he may just challenge himself to devise one."
When they reached the elevator, Drake nodded, pleased with himself.
The Warden noticed this and asked him why. Then, even before Drake answered, the Warden said: "You didn't know what to expect, did you? You were either were going to get a cure or put the bug in Strange's mind to design one?"
Drake gave him a crooked smirk. "Stranger things have happened, Warden, and sometimes knowing a mad genius has its benefits," he said, as the doors to the elevator closed.
To be continued...
