Gotham Oddities
File 001: Victor Von Glenn
Finally! Doctor Jonathan Crane had been working at Arkham Asylum for months, nearly a year now, and while he was hired without other tedious prerequisites like his colleagues had to meet he was still very eager to have this chance. To not just shadow but accompany Doctor Hugo Strange on a special case. Any doctor in the building would give their right arm for such. They wound into the lower halls of the asylum – at three in the morning even he had to admit it had an uncanny feel – where the stone ceiling was barely raised above ground level. Rain splattered against tiny half-sized and wire-reenforced windows; the flashes of the storm outside would light the hall in unusual ways through them.
It was the low rumbling boom that came afterward that was most intriguing to Dr. Crane.
Many patients at Arkham were one in a million. In other words, most exceptional cases, bizarre cases, ones that could make men's skin crawl, and lesser doctors quit the profession. They housed mostly criminals, though Arkham did have a handful of non-indited that truly needed the extra care from the best of the best. Lightning was in itself a particular and abnormal fear, astraphobia, affecting people of all ages – however, it was often more common among children and animals. Most outgrew this fear, learning the chances of being struck by a bolt was much like their asylum patient list, one in a million. They had several patients who were in various degrees astraphobic. And all for different unique reasonings (of course it boiled down to fear, yet why they were afraid was another matter.) It made an interesting time to study them during storms like this.
They would not be getting to see any of those regular patients this early morning. The file Doctor Strange handed to him yesterday – mere hours ago - to read over was proof that they dealt with the most bizarre.
Victor Glenn and Von Glenn. Having thought at first it was Victor Von-Glenn Jonathan was confused when Doctor Strange confirmed it was in fact two names and not a typo. True multiple personality disorders were rare, however even in their case they kept the legal name of the patient, and any so-claimed personalities were written separately. Hugo had told Jonathan he'd let him rack his brain for a while and upon further inspection, it was indeed not a case of multiple personalities. The anticipation after reading it was killing him. His fingers drummed against the file as another flash of lightning streamed in through the windows followed by a rolling rumble.
"Here we are." Doctor Strange's voice was soft and held the smallest hints of his long hours from the week. His passions often overcame his need to sleep – he and Jonathan were very alike in this manner. That soft voice turned to something sterner but not scolding, "While it was mentioned in the file, I shall reiterate, you are not to approach him without an invitation."
Doctor Crane gave a single nod of his head, he recalled well the warnings in the file, "He is muzzled?"
Hugo took a set of keys from his lab coat, "Yes, he bit a nurse that got too close yesterday afternoon." Unlocking the door and opening it slowly, Jonathan Crane had to force back a childlike smile from reaching his lips, "Good morning Victor."
A single man sat in a wooden desk chair, a single body did, for upon the wide shoulders were two symmetrical heads. Both had unruly and unbrushed medium-length brown locks and nearly identical facial structures. The right one, however, was muzzled and lulled to the side as if sleeping with eyes closed. The left stared straight ahead, permanent dark circles under their light brown eyes. They had bandages on their face and wraps on the separate neck that vanished into the jacket collar. A straight jacket was worn – custom-tailored to fit the unique shape – but was not buckled, the sleeves were rolled up and he could see their hands resting in their lap. More bandages dotted all over their fingers, one hand was nearly a canvas of band-aids.
"Hello, Hugo." An imperturbable voice responded. Their eyes lifted from the much shorter bald man to the obviously tall figure shuffling in anticipation behind him, "You brought company I see."
This patient was allowed luxuries; a simple writing desk sat stuffed into a corner looking like it may have been pulled from Jonathan's own home office with the contents of paperwork and folders piled high. A standard Arkham bed in the other and while it had a thick blanket on it, Jonathan could see the black security straps poking from the underside of the bed. Of course, a toilet had been provided and it was unceremoniously fitted between the two objects. The chair he —they? – sat in was situated at a line painted on the floor. It was the furthest point from where his ankle was locked to the backside of the room by a chain that could reach. It left roughly less than three feet of room from the hallway door and the oddity in the chair.
"Yes, this is Dr. Jonathan Crane," Hugo motioned Jonathan to come further inside and he stepped forth into the doorframe where the light inside could reveal his face, "he's very interested in your case if you do not mind."
Only Victor's eyes moved looking at the other head on his shoulder. A thoughtful expression was written on his features, "Von may not approve."
"I am asking you, Victor."
Slowly Victor's eyes came back to Doctor Crane's face, "… Forgive my lack of manners, do come in." One of his hands lifted in a gesture of invitation, "I am Victor, as I am sure you're aware," the eyes had fallen to the folder in Doctor Crane's grasp, "I would say it is a pleasure though you've yet to meet Von."
Fascinating. The man seemed completely mentally functioning, more than that, his file stated Victor had achieved an assessment on par with typical postgraduates despite never attending school. If perhaps he was not physically attached to a sociopath he might have been a leading academic in society.
"I'm not going to bite you Dr. Crane." Victor spoke up again. Jonathan had not realized he'd failed to move closer into the room, he shut the door behind himself as he did.
"If you could Victor." Doctor Strange motioned for Victor. A song and dance that was unique to this patient. He raised his left arm, curling each finger individually before putting it down then raised his right arm a little more sluggishly curling each finger slowly on that hand, "Thank you."
Both hands went back to fold upon his lap, "I assure you he is sleeping. In any case, I would have thought you'd come later in the day Hugo, since it was Von that caused trouble."
"I wanted to give Dr. Crane the chance to meet you without Von's…" he was searching for a word, "interruptions." Likely a polite way to put it.
An exasperated sigh escaped Victor's lips. The not-so-individual must have been bombarded by doctors their entire life, "What questions do you have doctor?"
Too many. He had hundreds of them swimming around in his skull at the moment. Many had been answered by the file – at least medically. Two skulls with full autonomous motion, parallel spines fused at the base near the hips, each brain could independently control the single body, and that in itself was miraculous. Let alone the fact they were nearly thirty-three years of age and showed no signs of leading an otherwise unhealthy life beyond mild blood pressure troubles. This, however, was also a cause for concern when they fought over who controlled which part. According to the file, Victor was a passive and more logical personality while Von checked off many boxes to be committed to the asylum. Including multiple homicides. Victor was a victim of Von's narcissistic and verbal abuse. Physically on the worst of days, obvious by the many bandages. To be a victim of one's own body attacking them, he could hardly imagine it. The asylum had a difficult time properly medicating the oddity due to the sharing of one set of nutrient-processing organs. Since Victor was by all rights sane they could not give Von anti-psychotics nor anything for that matter without it affecting Victor.
Jonathan wondered why they were allowed luxuries to which they could easily self-harm… or perhaps it was not quite self-inflicted harm. Harmful regardless. Jonathan would leave the growing list of ethical problems of Arkham Asylum for another day. His first question found its way to his lips, "I will not bore you with trite clinical matters, I'd like to know what a man living with the constant company of another such as yourself fears."
Victor and Von Glenn were born together, they would die together – did he or his forever counterpart fear the bitter lonely embrace of death?
Victor held that thoughtful expression again, pondering. "Poor little Victor is scared of thunderstorms." The voice was snide and sarcastic muffled by the muzzle, "Isn't that right my sweet darling Vic?" The muzzled head picked up from its lulled state with a wide preternatural grin under the equipment and equally light brown eyes fixed to the corners of their vision to stare at Victor's forming frown. A flash lit up the room and Victor turned his tired eyes towards Von in a mirroring fashion as the thunder rumbled.
A/N: Do you like music? Me too. Want to know what I listened to for this?
I Saw The Dead by Villagers.