Coping With Fear Who: Jonathan Crane, Bruce Wayne, anybody else What: The asylum is being plagued by suspicious deaths. Inspection teams are being choppered in. When: December 31st 2011 Where: Arkham Asylum Rating: Probably High Status: Open
Dr. Crane smiled indulgently at the nurse. "Your question is erroneous Ms... Vin, is it? Visiting our happy little home all the way from Metropolis, this must be a bit of a culture shock. I hear they had to fly the lot of you in special on one of the transport helicopters. You're lucky.. They usually only use them for riot suppression when there's a danger of our residents achieving break-out off the island. Certainly not for a routine inspection of our little hospital here in Arkham City." He chewed thoughtfully on the tip of the charcoal pencil he was notating case files with. "Of course, not that they perform those that often. They've pretty much left us to care for the injured and sick City residents as we best see fit. Which is why this comes as such a surprise; these patients are all but given the knives and guns to do each other in with, do a few deaths really rate that much extraordinary concern? It has to be what was expected when this island was made." He listened carefully to something the visiting nurse put forth.
I chose to stay here, to remain and... Care for these poor deranged souls as best they can be. But when I could, I've visited Metropolis General's meta-human psychiatric facilities and they were beyond reproach. I commend you for your work there. But they were Metropolis's, they would not work here. We do not have too many problems with crazed super-humans blowing up the Sun, Miss Vin, we deal with... More human conditions. Our heroes, such as they are, are human. Frail, squishy humans whose only claim to righteousness is being part of the security force detailed to work here. Otherwise they're as brutal and savage as any of them on the other side of the bars. Desperately they try stemming the flood of purely human insanity as best as possible, and otherwise leave the residents to police themselves. Our facilities are a bit of a mirror of that, I am afraid. They are as much aid as can be provided when no outside help exists. But they help."
He stared meaningfully at the visiting nurse. "You came from a place where 'handling' a patient involves wrapping them in unbreakable chains, dampening their powers, and all that. Look in that cell, that man is Victor Zsasz. If we were to put him in one of your neural dampeners it would probably stop his heart. So for you to ask whether he is... Cruelly imprisoned, that is erroneous, he is *correctly* imprisoned, Ms. Vin. He is subdued, shackled, forced into solitary confinement, and regularly tazered by unkind guards who'd rather not be near him, because he is human, and a balance must be walked. You can only do so much to humans, Ms. Vin, they are not nearly as resilient as the patients you treat."
This nurse was more frustrating than the rest of this neurotic pack. A full staff of administrators, hangers-on, and doctors, at the request of Arkham's own administrators who wanted to encourage sharing of information and a learning environment for both famed centers of psychiatric treatment. There had also recently been some questions raised about... Unfortunate, highly unfortunate, and accidental deaths. All a great surprise, what with such personal care put into each Arkham case. It was bizarre... In just a few weeks three had died from what the coroner swore was pure fright. So for that and many other reasons, suddenly this interest in cooperation and collaboration. It was nothing Dr. Crane couldn't shake off though, at least until now, when a senior nurse had insisted on touring the violent ward to see patient conditions, and his own boss had weighed in heavily and insisted.
He cocked his head a bit, she'd asked a question and he'd initially missed it. "Is this man suffering? Again, erroneous. The man is lucky to be alive with what he did. And every murder this man committed is a mark on his own flesh, so define suffering. I believe he's reacting positively to the medicine we've put him on. I believe he is losing some of the desire to self-injure and to injure other selves, that I view as an improvement over the state we found him in, disembowling some mob enforcer. If he's suffering he's also healing, again there must be a balance. I'm sorry, will you excuse me a minute? I'm getting a call."
He stepped back a bit and opened his cellular, listening patiently. "But that's... That's too damn far, I must... I see. Well if he insists, but this is really an obscene disruption at this point, my day is quite busy." He turned and barked at the nurse. "We must head back to the administrative offices, there's been more visitors. More disruptions. It seems you're to be in the charming company of the Mayor, Ms. Vin. They have flown him in on the VIP chopper with our principal backer, Mr. Wayne. Without his resources Arkham City would have no hospice facilities whatsoever. Perhaps you've met? He's a fascinating man, you know. Very deep, complicated. So many beautiful complications behind those eyes of his... Gives this place quite a lot of funding, but right now him, and you, and God knows who'll show up next, are greatly decreasing the hours I can actually work, and I am beginning to genuinely resent that!" He stomped off, motioning hastily for Ms. Vin to follow.