Who: Jonathan Crane & Mobsters What: Package delivery Where: Arkham Asylum When: April 3; 3:30am. Rating: PG Status: Complete
Dr. Jonathan Crane did not like this idea, not one bit. Unlike the first job he was offered, this one implied that they knew more about him than they should. That made him nervous. He had wanted to turn it down, but Scarecrow had wrestled control of the conversation from him with relative ease, and now they were sitting in his car at 3am near the east gate waiting for some van.
Despite all his worry and reservations, he still couldn't deny this was an amazing turn of events as far as his research was concerned. As long as he didn't get caught...
The van--a white model sporting a Romano Waste Management logo--pulled up to the front gates of Arkham. The driver rolled down his window when he saw Doctor Crane, tipping his hat to the man. If it seemed suspicious that a van driver would be wearing a suit, nobody said anything.
Crane heaved a sigh, and slid out of his car after only a few moments of hesitation. He tried his best not to seem nervous as he strode up to the security station and knocked on the window.
"Let them in."
The security guard jumped. He hadn't seen the Doctor in the inky blackness of the night. Plus the dude was just goddamn creepy. The night guards were all familiar with the workaholic Crane who haunted Arkham's administrative halls. "Y-yes, Doctor Crane..." He stammered, pressing a button to open the gates for the vehicle.
The van puttered slowly, giving the Doctor a chance to direct them to a safe area where they could unload their cargo.
Well, at least the guard's obvious discomfort at his presence made him feel a little better. He turned away then, and moved towards the van, stopping briefly at the driver's window to give him directions to the back lot, before hurrying back to his own car and getting inside.
So far, so good.
The driver followed his instructions, turning off the headlights as they idled at their destination. He stepped out of the driver's seat to enjoy a cigarette as he waited for the Doctor. The handoff of the goods had to be handled delicately.
After parking his car in his usual, out-of-the-way spot, Crane quickly made his way back across the small lot to where the van was parked by a forgotten looking door. He pulled a set of keys out of the inside pocket of his jacket, unlocked it, and pushed it open as quietly as possible.
The driver continued to watch Crane, working slowly through his cigarette. After a few moments, he spoke up. "You ready for this, Doc?"
Hopefully, the men in the car would mistake the shaking of his hands for being cold instead of nervous. It was...sort of chilly, after all.
"Just...try to be quiet and follow me."
The driver nodded, pulling out a set of keys and unlocking the back on the van. Two large men stepped out, one of which had what looked like an over sized black dufflebag slung over his muscular shoulder. Whatever he was carrying looked quite heavy and ungainly.
The driver followed behind Crane, signaling for his men to follow him.
Crane watched as they unloaded their cargo, then ushered them inside; he wished he could lock the door after closing it, just to be safe, but they would need to get out again. Once it was shut tight, he moved ahead of them, and lead them through the maze-like hallways of the Asylum's lower levels.
An old, rickety elevator took them down another two floors, to the sub-basement, where he unlocked yet another door, this time to one of the old storage rooms, and flicked on a bare-bulb light.
"You want us to put 'er here?" One of the muscle -- the one shafted with the job of carrying the parcel -- asked aloud. He hoped they'd reached their final destination.
Off to one side of the room was a beat up looking examination table, the sort that had been used in the old days to strap patients down on for questionable treatments. Which made it perfect for Crane's uses.
"Strap her down on there," he said, waving towards the table absently.
The man nodded, letting the dufflebag slip off his shoulder with a loud thunk. Who cared if she got a few bangs and bruises? That was all a part of the plan. Besides, that bitch had hit him with a little league bat. He knelt down, undoing the zipper until he could get a good grip on what was inside. He tugged the heavily sedated red haired girl from out of the bag, before dropping her on the table. He and the other thug began to work on doing up her restraints, first hands, then legs and lastly one around her head.
"No second thoughts about this, right doc?" The driver raised a curious eyebrow at Crane.
With his back turned to what was going on, he wrung his hands anxiously before busying them with sorting through some papers he'd left on a worn out shelf.
"It's a little late for that question, don't you think?" He bit his lip, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Everything was going to be...just fine.
"You're probably right," the mobster said with a chuckle. "Well, goodnight doc." He signaled for his men to follow, and they left the good doctor alone with his new pet project.
Jonathan let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding, and looked across the room at the young woman on the table. She still seemed to be unconscious, which was no help to him at all. That being the case, he probably had time to head back and lock the door once the delivery men left...