CHAPTER 30:
"A Strange Break-Out"

Two guards met Dr. Hans Reinhardt and his lovely young assistant at the front gates at Arkham Asylum, they were at the maximum security prison for the criminally insane for an annual inmate evaluation assessment. They called ahead for a background clearance check and were accepted. After another security check at the gates, the pair were escorted in and met with the Warden in his office.

The Warden shook hands with the Doctor and greeted his assistant cordially with a nod. "Dr. Reinhardt, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said happily to the slightly grey but mostly white haired professional. Reinhardt was of stalk shape and appeared to visit the gym on a regular bases. "I've heard good things about you. Is this your first time at Arkham Asylum?"

"Ja," Dr. Reinhardt said in German. He spoke straight-forward, adjusting his small oblong spectacles with the middle finger of his left hand. He had a bit of a heavy German accent, but his English was understandable. "But I am a little nervous with the clientele that reside at this beachside resort hotel." He gave a small chuckle. The Warden shared the chuckle allowing the little joke.

"That's understandable, the inmates can be intimidating at first. There are some of the worse human beings in the world that reside under this roof. A roof, in fact, that is adding an expansion at the moment because we are near capacity."

"Batman has been busy, Ja?" The Warden nodded and said Yes. "I have read the dossier of this facility. Unfortunately, there has been some fowl up—as it is said, and I am only here to see one inmate." He recited the Prisoner's identification indent. "I was told to begin with one inmate, submit a report, wait until it is evaluated, and then wait until the Council approves of my analysis. If they agree with my assessment, then I will be assigned more inmates to further evaluate."

"Ah, so this is a test for you. I understand, and I believe that's for the best. A lot of the inmates at Arkham will even scare the bravest solider into crawling under his bed. We have fiends, killers, psychopaths, monsters, and plenty of sociopaths—one of whom will be the man you will be evaluating. He's quite a character, to say the least." The Warden checked his desk computer, pressing a button to bring something up on screen. "I did a little background check on you before granting your access here. You have impressive credentials, Doctor Reinhardt. And you majored in Abnormal Psychology. The irony is uncanny. Don't you think?"

"I see the irony, Ja," Dr. Reinhardt replied flatly.

The Warden then eyed Reinhardt's assistant and looked her over from head to toe. She was young, trim, with a sizeable chest, and wore glasses, but had a more standard pair; Reinhardt's glasses were more customized to his face. However, her attire had a hint of pink to it, and he was a little worried that her attire may arouse some of the inmates and even a few guards.

"So, you're here to see Dr. Hugo Strange," the Warden said, and then suddenly laughed. "Funny how one doctor is here to evaluate another doctor on the very same psychosis of mental health issues he himself has studied and majored."

"Ja," was all Dr. Reinhardt said. "Now, as they said in my line of work: let's get cracking." The Warden cocked his head curiously. "Inside joke," Reinhardt explained. "Abnormal Psychology is like cracking eggs, you never know what type of yoke you'll get."

The Warden nodded. "In this place most if not all of them are scrambled eggs. I'll have the two guards who escorted you to my office take you to Dr. Strange's cell on the sixth level. And don't be alarmed, they will be armed. Before you leave, place all your valuables—cell phones and anything electronic here in my office. That includes your mini purse, Miss" —the Warden looked at the profile page on his computer— "Wendy Dust."

She rummaged through her purse which was more of a carry case, then handed it over. There was basically nothing inside other than a small note pad and a pen. She had left all valuables other than ID cards safely at home knowing where she would be coming. She took both items and then followed Dr. Reinhardt, escorted by the two guards to the elevator, and then to the sixth floor—the Warden remaining behind. They followed the guards through the half-moon corridor to Dr. Hugo Strange's cell.

"Please stand back," one of the guard's advised. "The cell door is electrified for reasons of safety." He held in his hand a wooden baton that he used to bang on the metal door. "Hey Doctor, you have visitors."

Hugo Strange groaned. "I'm not at liberty to guests. And it better not be that Bat brat again!"

"Bat brat?" Dr. Reinhardt repeated.

"Red Robin paid Strange a visit the other day or so. The Warden said to watch him if he started doodling or something. Well, he did. Some medical stuff. But when the Warden told him that a cure to Scarecrow's Fear Germ had been found, Strange ripped them all up. Naturally, the Warden took the pieces to tape together to see if anything could be useful, but it turned out that a doctor at Gotham General Hospital had found the same cure Strange had devised. And Strange has been in a fowl mood ever since."

"I wanted to be the one to find a cure!" Strange said through the door. He had obviously overhead. "I even gave Red Robin small clues to follow, but left crucial elements to myself. I just needed a proper formula before I announced my findings. And when I found it, the Mayor would have given me the key to the city, and a ticket out of here. Damn to Hades to whoever found it first!" Reinhardt asked what the cure to the germ was. "It was gold, Herr Doctor." Strange had picked up Reinhardt's German accent. "One of the most precious minerals humans have ever found in the ground. It can be electrified in small qualifies, that can eradicate certain cancers and diseases using a person's own neurotic energy to cure itself. What made the body, can cure the body."

"Well, anyway," the guard pressed. "It is time for your monthly psychiatric evaluation, Doctor."

"Oh, good god!" he protested. "I'm locked up in this hellhole; case closed!"

But before the same guard could respond, Dr. Reinhardt put up a hand to halt him. "Dr. Hugo Strange, this must be done. It is my job to evaluate you, and I am not leaving here until my assessment is complete." He was forceful.

The second guard had been quiet and was mainly there for support.

He looked at Reinhardt's assistant, Wendy Dust, with a keen eye. He held a rifle in hand, it was the standard protection when dealing with the inmates, and stared at her with curious interest.

Wendy noticed this, and asked, "May I help you, officer?"

"Don't I know you? You're from Bludhaven, right?"

"I took my undergraduate studies in Bludhaven before the incident that nearly befell the city some time ago with the meta-humans, yes." Dr. Reinhardt momentarily eyed her when she said that.

The guard's eyes narrowed as he looked at her. "No, it's something else. You have a one of those unforgettable faces. I'm good with faces. I have a buddy who lives in Bludhaven, who likes to visit the neighbouring watering holes; bars. I recently visited him and he took me to this popular bar in the downtown core, and we saw this easy chick called Pixie with the craziest pink hair…"

"My hair is not pink, officer, as you can plainly see," she retorted.

"Yeah, I can see that. It's nice. But…" He shook his head as if to knock cobwebs out. "Anyway, want to go out on a date?"

The first guard gave him a scolding glance and he backed off.

Then Strange's cell door was unlocked with a device the first guard held that deactivated the electrified door and disengaged all the locks. He announced that both guards were armed and for Strange to back away from the door.

When the door was pulled open, the hefty looking, bald-headed, man known as Dr. Hugo Strange with his no moustache, middle-eastern cropped beard, was sitting on his bunk reading a book. Dr. Reinhardt caught a glimpse of the title: The Catcher In the Rye. Reinhardt glanced around. It was like a library in Strange's cell, lots of books were stacked on the floor in piles.

Wendy Dust remained outside in the corridor with the second guard, while the first guard stood at the threshold of the cell door, armed. Strange eyed Dr. Reinhardt, when he entered. "And to whom do I owe this visit from? What is your name and expertise?"

Dr. Reinhardt took a moment as if analyzing the man. Then he spelled it all out for him, giving Strange his name and profession. He said his words with such elegance that it sounded like he was reading from a memorized script, which was not entirely untrue. He knew Hugo Strange would ask such a thing and with Strange's personality, confidence was key to trust.

Strange looked impressed. "I'm also an expert in Abnormal Psychology," and he laughed sadistically. "I also minored in Neuropathy, but I don't get much practise in that regard. The Human Mind is more my field of expertise, but obviously both go hand-in-hand. Sometimes when the mind is unable to tell you what you need to know, the body can speak volumes."

Strange then went on with a long-winded, prideful boast, about how some neurological disorders can cause psychosomatic mental issues, that if not dealt with, could develop into a from of post traumatic stress disorder, sometimes caused by prolonged forms of pain that drugs cannot fix, creating mental instability and acute personality changes. Present company included. But Strange's mental "pain" was caused by how he saw the world, and how it was occupied by idiots and fools, and sadistic vigilantes.

"I see you enjoy reading," Dr. Reinhardt made an observation.

"It keeps my mind sharp."

"How are you, Hugo?" Reinhardt asked.

"Don't be pedantic. You've obviously read my file. Your prognosis, Herr Doctor?"

Dr. Reinhardt adjusted his glasses with a middle finger once more, straight-faced, he said, "I don't make assumptions from another person's written notes and diagnoses, I would rather get a personal perception of a patient; I'm just that sort of person. I would prefer to make my own analysis based on one-on-one observation and consultation."

Hugo waved it off. "But that's not how it works, Herr Doctor. People always make assumptions, or rather, presumptions even before they see a patient. No one likes to go in blind. That is both dangerous for the physician and the patient. Give me my profile. I've been visited by a few psychiatrists other than yourself and each of them have stated the same thing. I would like your honest opinion, based on the information already in my personal records."

It was a test, Dr. Reinhardt thought. Then: "Nein, that's not how it works, Hugo. Private collected information is not to be shared with the patient. But trust me when I say, I know a lot about you, Dr. Hugo Strange, and more than you know, Ja?"

Seconds later, Wendy Dust covered her mouth, pointed the pen that she was holding, depressed a button, and gassed both guards, quickly yanking them inside, throwing them to the floor. They coughed, but ultimately succumb to its knock-out effects. It all took place so fast that no one else saw it happen. Then she shut the door behind her, but didn't lock it. She retrieved the control device from the first guard just in case and examined how it worked.

Hugo Strange swore and jumped off his bunk, his back hitting the wall. He looked at the camera in his cell and wondered if those monitoring the security surveillance were watching this, or even the cameras out in the corridor. Would they come and stop it?

Dr. Hans Reinhardt ripped off the plastic of his face and Slade Wilson, Deathstroke, stood before Hugo Strange. The disguise was so good that it even gave believability to Slade's fake right eye, which he removed and placed back his eye patch. Before Strange had a moment to ask how, Slade explained. With the last phrase he had spoken, a device was activated that was just recently wired into the surveillance video and audio systems of Arkham and it now played back the last two minutes of playback when everything was normal, before Wendy Dust gassed the guards and before this moment. It would play back for fifteen minutes.

Hugo Strange was aghast. "What madness is this? You went to these lengths to see me? Yet now this? Why?"

Slade smirked. "To brake you out, of course." He said it with such sly and cunning that Hugo Strange was stunned with disbelief.
As he said it, Wendy Dust—Pixie—busied herself removing two small devices that she had stuffed between her breasts before entering Arkham Asylum. For a brief moment, Hugo Strange got a peepshow when she had to open the top of her dress, exposing herself, to remove the devices that were firmly wedged between her buxom pair, covered with a wrapping that could not be scanned and were invisible to metal detectors. Strange even complemented her on them which she returned with a nasty look.

She did most of the work while Slade watched Hugo Strange and hauled one guard onto Strange's bunk, then the other, placing them on top of each other in a rather uncompromising position face-to-face, but it was necessary for what was intended. Then she attached one of the devices to the clothes of one guard and switched it on. She gave the other device, which looked like a mini chain key beeper, to Slade, which he took with a smile.

"And what is that thing?" Hugo Strange asked.

Slade kept it close. "This is the key to our salvation, Strange, and it's also how we're going to get out undetected. We're just going to walk out of here, none the wiser. This device emits an unusual frequency that'll mask our true identities until at such time the device attached to the security surveillance system serves its purpose, and will self-destruct when programmed. I can thank a little birdie for this technology, but he said it will only last a short while. So, time is short. And the device attached to those two guards will act as a mask to make it appear you are laying in the bunk. An interesting simulation technology, but I don't know much about it, yet."

"For what end? What do you want of me?"

"Things will be explained later. Now, shut-up and do what I tell you."

x x x

Hugo Strange was shocked when things went off without a hitch.

Slade Wilson and his friend Pixie had thought out everything before they ventured deep into Arkham using technology beyond his understanding. When they were out and through the front gates, they casually entered a parked car and drove off. Hugo Strange's only presence masked by an invisibility that he could not explain.

How did the guards not see him walk straight past them and out the front doors? Not that he was complaining. He was thankful he didn't have to spend another minute in that depressing place. What lay ahead for him, he didn't know. But he followed Slade's instructions to the letter and remained silent as he walked beside him the whole way—invisible to the naked eye and the cameras.

The device Slade had also made the Warden believe, by some weird form of its workings, that Deathstroke—one of the most notorious assassins in Gotham City—was in fact a respected and noted Psychologist, giving purchase to his previous identity as Dr. Hans Reinhardt, escorted to his office by the same guards, while they still remained in Strange's cell.

Eventually, the truth would be revealed, but by that time, it would be too late. He would have to ask about the technology later.

The car drove on for a few miles then pulled onto a dirt road where it stopped. Pixie and Hugo were in the backseat. Slade reached over and pressed a few buttons on the dash computer screen and suddenly noises were heard on the outside of the vehicle. Slade explained that the vehicle's colour and plates were being altered, so it couldn't be tracked when their rouse was discovered at Arkham, which would be any time now. He then told Pixie to follow through in the second stage of their plan.

To be continued...