Dr. Pamela Isley (toxic_revenger) wrote in roguesgallery, @ 2009-08-13 23:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | harleen quinzel, pamela isley |
Who: Dr. Harleen Quinzel and Dr. Pamela Isley
When: August 12th - 4pm
Where: Arkham Asylum - Exterior and Interior
What: Harley collects Pam and brings her to Arkham
Rating: PG
"You're joking, right?" Harley stared in horror at the hazmat suit that was being thrust her way and she took a step back to avoid being touched by it. "I'm not wearing that."
"It's for your own protection. This land is toxic. You could become seriously ill," the female officer argued. She held the suit back out pointedly.
Harley's lip curled and she sidestepped the officer. "No thanks, I'll be fine." With a dismissive wave, she moved past the barricade of reporters and gawkers and headed out to meet the redhead who had caused such a fuss.
As she moved into speaking distance, her hands went up in surrender. The only sign she was more than just the typical onlooker was the lanyard hung around her neck, her Arkham badge clearly visable. She had dressed casual for the talk and she had even let her hair down. "Mind if I come over, Dr. Isley?"
"Only if you're looking for a tumor the size of Texas later in life," Pam remarked, getting to her feet when she saw the woman approach. "What are you doing here without a suit?" Her brow furrowed in irritation. The woman with the Arkham badge hardly looked like a staunch enviromentalist here to join her...not that Pam would've let her even if she was. "Go away please. They're shutting down my party soon as they can so shoo."
"Well, they kind of brought me out here to end the party." She stayed where she was, too intimidated to move further. "And I can't go back until you're with me, so it looks like we'll be spending some quality time together." She started to kneel down, ready to take up a seat on the polluted ground. "Know any good games we could play?"
Pam blinked, giving this woman a once over. "Don't make yourself comfortable...you're not a cop." She quirked her head to the side. "I'm not being arrested?"
She stopped, halfway to the ground, and stretched back up. "Nah, but depending on your point of view, it could be worse. They've got to move ya and the only place open is, well..." She pointed out to Arkham. "That's why I'm here."
Pam glanced past the blonde, grimacing at the sight of the delapidated old asylum. "Oh..." She glanced around here at the toxic land, then at the doctor, then at the building. Really, she could only buy herself a little time before the police took her out by force. She was assuming they hadn't done so already because of the cameras.
"Involuntary psychiatric hold. That was tricky of them," Pam muttered under her breath. She turned her head to the blonde. "No point in fighting it, I suppose. Lead the way."
Her head tilted curiously. "That's it?" She had expected this to be more difficult. Maybe it was the fact the job was given to her by Dr. Crane, or that the police had not been able to handle the situation peacefully, but here she was, ready to come along.
"You need help carrying anything?"
"No I'm good," Pam said, crouching down to grab her things. What Harley didn't seem to recognize that Pam was anticipating was the lash back, which started as soon as she began to gather her few possessions in a bag. Some of Gotham's more passionate green freaks had sat themselves by the barricade, and they had made life hard enough for the cops earlier. Now they were throwing ever curse in the book at the doctor.
Pam stood and gave a cheerful wave, blowing kisses to her likeminded new friends. This earned her a cheer.
That was unexpected. Harley was not use to being the bad guy and when the shouting start she did her best not to recoil. Instead, she brushed it off and put on her most stern face for the cameras that were up and rolling as the enviro-freak left her nest. "Tough crowd," she muttered to herself, holding her hand up to block microphones being pushed in their direction.
"Dr. Isley! Dr. Isley! Questions, please!" The same reporter that Pam had scolded earlier was forcing her way to the front to chance a parting interview. "Your fans seem disappointed, Dr. Isley. Why have you given yourself up peacefully to..." She tried to spot the name on Harley's badge, but the doctor had it covered and gave nothing more than a sarcastically sweet smile to the reporter.
Pam let out a long suffering sigh and put on the face of a saint as she was lead through the crowd. "I just didn't want anyone to get hurt. They've issued an involuntary psychiatric hold...as if it's crazy to care about our city! When the police let this poor doctor unwittingly go onto that toxic dump, I had to leave. I don't want innocent people getting hurt."
The policeman who moved to block the reporter visably rolled his eyes and Harley let a smirk show. She liked this woman, she knew how to work a crowd. As the police finally got a handle on the situation, Harley leaned over, "My car's over there." She pointed to a loved red convertible with the top down. "Anything ya want to keep, put it in the trunk."
Pam tossed her belongings in the trunk, she quietly made her way into the passenger seat. She didn't apologize for the mob or say anything to the doctor, as she felt there was very little to say to the stranger at all. Instead she stared back at the dump, wondering if she'd made an impact.
Harley started the car and music came to life at a blaring volume. She quickly shut it off and looked out the windshield with her lips pursed innocently. "So, I bet ya have a lot to add to your blog, huh?" Quiet was not Harley's friend, and it was hard enough not to bombard the woman with questions that had little to do with her stand on toxic dumping.
"Don't have one yet," Pam muttered, voice dull and almost emotionless. "Should probably work on that." Her mind was racing now as she wondered about the next few days of her life. She had only briefly heard about Arkham, and the most infamous detail about it was its newest resident...the madman who had practically brought a metropolis to its knees.
"Well you're famous now! Gotta capitalize on it if ya really want to get people to make a difference. They only care about ya when you're a celebrity, ya know?" It was too hard to keep the professional guise with the wind whipping around. She was free and until they were through the gates to the asylum, she was going to use that freedom to be herself.
"Arkham's not all bad. Especially since you're just gonna be there for a few days. I mean, the food is rotten but...well, if ya survived a waste dump, you can survive the salsbury steak."
That made Pam crack a little smile. She settled down in her chair, more relaxed than when she began. "I hope I'll get a chance to clean up...that place didn't smell particularly great."
"I'll make sure the bathroom's clear, how does that sound?" She reclined back and let her left hand hang out the side of the car. "I don't think you'll even need to put a jumpsuit on. I mean, unless ya want one. They're orange."
Pam's nose scrunched in disdain. "Orange...it clashes with my hair." She laughed, enjoying the sensation of the wind. "Thank you. I know you're not used to having guests like me in Arkham."
"Thank you? I never hear that." She turned her head to flash a bright smile. "Don't worry, you'll be in and out in no time. It was this or a warrant, and who knows how long you'd be kept in jail. Ya did tick off some pretty powerful people."
"Well I have to make my mark somehow," Pam shrugged, watching as the old stone building got bigger and bigger. "I'll be honest. I kind of expected cuffs. I was more prepared for that."
"Didn't know you were that kinda girl," she stated with a snicker. "Don't worry, Harley will take care of ya. Oh, yeah, that's me," she added, holding out her hand and driving with her knee instead. "Dr. Harleen Quinzel."
Well. That looked...unsafe. Pam quickly shook the woman's hand. "Isley. Dr. Pamela Isley. You can call me Pam." She was a little surprised anyone would use the nickname Harley if their last name was Quinzel. It was like Apple Martin. Just a cruel cruel parental joke.
"Well, Pam, it's nice to meet ya." The front gate was still forboding in the daylight. The cracked paint and rust made the house of insantiy appear more as a house of horrors. When the car was parked, she glanced back to the trunk. "This is gonna sound strange, but if ya ever want to see your stuff again, it's best to just keep it where it is."
Pam gave a weary glance back at the trunk. "Okay fair enough..." She let out a sigh, stepping out of the car. She clicked the door shut behind her, resting her hands on her hips. "At least I get to see a Gotham landmark upclose and personal."
"It's something special," she said with a shrug. "You won't get to see much. Your cell," she paused. "Erm, well your room is on the lowest level. Closer to the exit at least." She pulled the lanyard off and spun it around her wrist. "C'mon, they'll get suspicious if we hang out in the parking lot too long."
Pam nodded, following close behind the doctor. "They'll keep me away from the hardcore psychotics right?"
"Yeah, of course! You've got nothin' to worry about. Most of the hardcore psychotics are real friendly," she added as she approached the front. A guard stopped them and after she held out her badge he let her pass, well aware of what the doctor had been sent out to do.
"Yeah I'm sure--" Pam hardly sounded convinced. "--but I'm not even from the city. I'm from outside Seattle. I grew up with dairy cows and hippies. Out of my element doesn't begin to cover it."
"So why are ya in Gotham? We're not the only city with toxic problems." Just the only one with toxic problems becuase of terrorists.
"It's where I got the best job offer," Pam smiled, perking like a peacock for once. "Like any good activist I want to heal the world wherever I wind up."
"Guess we're luck to have ya then." The further they got down the hall, the more sterile the old, creaking facility smelled. It was easy to ignore after a month of being there. "After I set ya up someone will be down to get your information. I set up what I could beforehand. You've got yourself a patient number and everything."
"Oh great," Pam said, laughing nervously and wondering what kind of record she'd have after this.
"At least your file will be pretty clean." Another flash of her badge and they were down a long stretch of hall with a guard behind them. The doors were labelled with long stretches of numbers and small windows. "Here we are. Home sweet home, for a few days anyways." She stepped back and let the burly guard open the door.
The room was small, with a cot bolted to one side of the wall and a sink and toilet on the other. The walls looked like they had recently been scrubbed next to the bed, the color almost white compared to the brown of the rest of the cell.
"Thanks," Pam replied quietly, the reality of the next 72 hours sinking in on her. How had she not thought of involuntary psychiatric hold? She stepped carefully into the cell, walking over to the cot and sitting down.
"I've gotta go, but, well...I'll come by again soon. I've got enough clearance to at least come visit ya." And maybe after relaying the good news to Dr. Crane, she'd have even more. "You'll be out soon, Pam. Don't worry."
Pam didn't respond, her face a mask of indifference as she lay back on the cot. It was just three days. She could withstand that much, and she didn't need a doctor's coddling to do it. She was made of tougher stuff, wasn't she?