Day 20: Dr. Crane's Office [Doctor's Office 1]

[damned_doctors]

At least Crane felt he was more prepared for the second group. Files could only tell you so much, after all, and he hadn't expected the attitudes that some of them had had. But people were people, all different and firm in the belief that they weren't insane. Crane figured he just needed to get used to doing therapy again. Anything fairly recent

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[damned_doctors]

Had Crane known what was going on inside the other man's head, he would have been very confused. Of course, he was confused enough as it was, so maybe it was for the best that it didn't get any worse. He's probably have a large headache later, but that's what aspirin was for. He had enough of it at home to make a drug addict drool. Still, the doctor met Brock's glare simply with a raised eyebrow, feeling safe with the knowledge that if he had to, his briefcase was within arm's length.

"...What are you talking about? This is our first meeting, so please feel free to enlighten me as to how I can backstab someone that I've only just met. Really, I'm quite interested, Mr. Lancaster." He shook his head before meeting the man's glare again. "But to answer your question, what else does a paying job offer but a way to make a living? I'd be touched that you were worried about me, but I believe you have me confused with someone else."

That had to be it, right? Crane just looked like someone that the man knew, and his delusional mind was switching the names. That had to be it.

"So, why don't you sit down? We can talk about this person that your brain seems to have switched my name with."

[blacksustenance]

"Enough!" Brock brought his hands, hard, down on the desk with a thud. "Spare us your bullshit. This isn't our first meeting and you know damn well it isn't. We met a few days ago in the cafeteria. You told us about working in an asylum and your Bat problem."

Brock was pissed off. The symbiote was reacting to the rush of adrenaline, interpreting it as threat, sharpening his teeth to fangs as he spoke. He refused to sit down. They were in no mood to play petty human mind games, especially not with the patient that they had trusted up to this point. If anything, Crane was making it worse with his infuriatingly calm attitude, as if Brock was the one in the wrong.

"Give us one excuse not to gut you right here and now, Jonathan Crane."

[damned_doctors]

And there it was again, a mention of the Bat. Where were these patients learning about this from and saying he told them? He'd never seen them before therapy, and no matter what they said, that was the truth. Besides, he would have had to have a good reason to back stab someone who apparently was insinuating that they'd been working together, and he didn't remember that.

Either way, Crane was feeling threatened, as well, and something clicked in his brain. He reached out and pulled the briefcase into his lap and unlocked it, but didn't open it just yet. "How about I give you two? First, if you try to do so, then there's something in here that I will be forced to use. It's still experimental, but it works well enough as protection. It causes paranoia and your worst fears will come to the forefront of your memory. How you react to your fears, I guess we'd get to see, but I can tell you that the effects aren't pleasant." Crane had somewhat intended it as a threat, but he could only hope that the man would take a hint from it. He had a very limited supply, whatever he'd managed to salvage after the events that had led him from Arkham to here, and he wanted to save as much of it as he could.

"Now for the other. If you do so, I won't get the opportunity to figure out how on earth you and one of my other patients knew about the Bat. Did someone put you up to it? Because regardless of what you believe, I can honestly say that I've never seen you before now, and no one besides you two and your...informant, whoever it is, knows about that."

[blacksustenance]

They scoffed. Worst fears? They had already lived them, time and time again, twisting in their consciousness. What if they lost Parker? What if they were lost to the hunger? It had already happened once and there was no unknown about that.

"You could try," Brock sniffed, leaning back. The symbiote surged in the background, ready to start transmitting oxygen through another route aside from the nose, and waiting. "But you'll find I'm more resistant to most drugs than the normal human."

Brock still didn't want to get sprayed in the face with whatever happy gas Crane had somehow come up with. He was still able to feel the effects and in case he did take a good lungful, it would be up to the symbiote to take over control of the body while it worked to cycle the harmful chemicals out. It would be tough on both of them, but the Other was certain they could manage through it, in the event it did happen.

The blond crossed his arms over his chest. "You told me about Batman, idiot," he said eyed the briefcase, adrenaline pumping just waiting for it. His muscles twitched, the symbiote on edge, ready to either rip Crane to pieces or jump to its Host's rescue. "That's the reason I agreed to help you - because you had your Bat and I had my Spider. You've got no reason to pretend you don't remember, because this should've meant more to you than just playing respectable doctor."

[damned_doctors]

God, but he wanted some aspirin right now. The comment on the gas was the least of the doctor's worries at the moment. Saving his own hide was much higher on the list. The gas was a potent one, anyway, enough to turn the entire city of Gotham against itself. Regardless of how resistant the other man was to most drugs, Crane knew his gas. It would still take its toll on him. But just to be safe, maybe a concentrated dose would be good. He put a hand to his head and rubbed at one of his temples before narrowing his eyes at Brock, keeping his voice low and whatever he could manage of calm.

"It seems we're at a stalemate, Mr. Lancaster. Since you know about the Bat, I'm going to assume I'm safe in saying this, too: I'm not 'playing' respectable doctor. I lost that, and am working to get it back. I'm willing to bet that, since you seem so set on insisting that I would tell you about the Bat, that you would have no idea, then, why I don't remember it? You're right, I have no reason to pretend that I don't remember; I simply don't. So, Mr. Lancaster, why do I not remember this and why do I instead distinctly remember coming in here for the first time and applying for a job?"

[blacksustenance]

Brock watched the briefcase. Crane was too close to it for his liking and he knew that if he were to make a move, the other man would get him with at least some of the toxin before they could knock the case away. He took the threat of the gas seriously, but had no doubts that he was expendable - the alien symbiote could control their body whether or not its own Host was incapacitated.

"How would I know why you don't remember it?" Brock snarled. He threw up his hands. "You think I've got all the answers? All I know is you disappeared for half of the day since the other night and now I find you here, pretending like you forgot and working on their side! Maybe they brainwashed you or something, I don't know All I know is at first you were set on escaping and now look at you!"

There is nothing out of the ordinary about this human, the symbiote purred. But there is no doubt he is the same one. We detect the toxins still in his body.

[damned_doctors]

Part of Crane wanted to smack the other man upside the head and shout that he wasn't 'pretending' (how many times would he have to repeat it before it got through the man's thick skull?), a part of him said to just gas him and be done with it, but Crane really wanted to get through this with as little antagonism between them as possible. The doctor sighed and shook his head, hoping all his pent-up frustration would just dissipate with that gesture. Of course it didn't, but it did help a little bit.

"Mr. Lancaster," he began again, "I'd very much like to get this little issue sorted out in lieu of therapy right now, however I'd also like it if we could do this as civilized men. So if you could please just sit down..." At the very least, Crane wanted the man away from his desk. Then things may go a little smoother, if the man's bullheadedness didn't get in the way. If he had to, he supposed he could always call a nurse to come and get the man, and they could deal with this at another time, but the doctor knew that just getting him out of the room wouldn't help. He had to calm him down somehow, some way, preferably without sacrificing his life for it. He was here to help himself, after all, and getting the other man's adrenaline up like this was the opposite effect that he wanted to achieve.

[blacksustenance]

"Will you stop calling me that?" Brock glared. "It's Eddie Brock. Get your names straight."

But he grudgingly sat down, if only for the moment. At least this put a bit of distance between them and the briefcase, and they could now feasibly kick the desk toward Crane if he got any funny ideas. They watched Crane as a predator watched potential prey, biding their time; one of Brock's fingers tapped slowly, impatiently, on the armrest of his chair.

"Get talking," Brock said, the symbiote lurking just beneath the surface. "We want to know what you're doing here and spare us the crap."

[damned_doctors]

"Of course, Mr. Lan...er, Mr. Brock." That previous session with the man who insisted upon being called Shinra had taught Crane to at least humor them in that regard, no matter how he felt on the matter. In this case, it seemed like sound advice.

Well, at least they had some distance between them now. If only he didn't have to repeat everything he'd said, but it seemed that repetition was the only way for the other man to get it through his head.

"What do you want, my life story? I maintain what I said earlier, but if you'd like I could go over the details of how exactly I got here. I'm curious as to why you keep insisting I used to be here before now. So how about a trade? I'll give you the details of how I got here, and you could tell me exactly why you're saying what you are? Or what I did, your version of how I got here...anything to give me an idea of what you're talking about. We can work from there to try and figure out what's going on." Really, Crane didn't want to say anything without understanding what Brock was talking about, but he had to make sure that was an option first.

[blacksustenance]

"I'm not insisting anything," Brock said, eyes narrowing. "You want the story? Fine. I met you a few days ago: it was breakfast, in the cafeteria. You sat down next to me and we started talking. We agreed to work together to try to get out, as we both agreed we had better things to be pursuing: you had your Bat, I had my Spider."

He paused for breath, and went on. The Other was biding its time and waiting for Crane to either say the wrong thing - confirm that he had indeed spilled his guts (figuratively, as they would do it figuratively for him sooner or later) to Landels and told them everything.

"We worked together during the night - the first night I protected you from some kind of fucked up cat monster, and the last night I was with you, we ran into Alessa," Brock raised his shirt, displaying the ring of ugly burns and crude bandages on his stomach. "Care to explain that? 'Cause I can. Alessa did that. And you even said not to approach her, but I did."

[damned_doctors]

Crane slid his notepad out and jotted down a few things that Brock was saying, though he stopped and just stared for a moment when he saw the burns and bandages on the other man's stomach. "...How?" was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and after a moment of silence, it was followed by a "...And what do you mean 'during the night'? You're all supposed to be asleep at night." He wanted to tell the other man that it was just a dream, but the proof was right there. He shook his head a couple of times, trying to make sense of it.

"Better to let me fulfill my end of the bargain before that." He looked back at the notepad and started jotting down what he remembered as he spoke. "Let's see...there was an...incident back in Gotham, and one of the last things that happened there involved a taser to the face. Quite possibly one of the more painful things in life, and if I ever see that little assistant DA again, I swear I'll pay her back for it. The city was in chaos, so it was easy to get out, and after what was essentially hitchhiking, I ended up more or less on this place's front porch. After a quick interview, I got the job I have now, and here we both are."

He looked at the things that he had written down on the notepad before looking back over at the other man. As if realizing something, he felt the side of his face where the taser had connected and realized that, in fact, there was no scar, no mark whatsoever as far as he could tell. "It just doesn't make any sense."

[blacksustenance]

"Well, Alessa happened to be on fire at the time," Brock said, with a glare daring Crane to laugh.

But when Crane mentioned getting taser in the face, it was Brock who laughed. He snorted none-too-gently just at the mental image and covered his mouth, trying to school his expression into something that couldn't be offensive. He managed to listen as politely as he could to the rest of the story.

"Taser in the face," Brock repeated dubiously. "It makes plenty of sense, because you've got a big gap in your story. You know, for a happy little doctor, you sound like you like the idea of revenge."

Maybe it was time to change approachs. The symbiote asserted a bit more control, changing Brock's tone of voice to something more persuasive, trying to imagine Parker in Crane's place. Crane was a human and humans were animals, after all. The symbiote knew that if you wanted to get an animal to do something or act in a positive fashion, you had to offer it something.

"Vengeance makes perfect sense, Crane. To feel the need for revenge is only human," the symbiote purred with Brock's voice. The blond's gray eyes were wide and fixed, unblinking, on Crane's. "We know about the Bat. Everything is his fault. We can help you make him yours."

[damned_doctors]

"On fire," Crane repeated, raising an eyebrow. And Brock hadn't listened about going up to the girl? There was no way he could be that stupid. "And you haven't brought it up to your nurse why, exactly? It seems that those bandages will only do so much, and those burns need proper medical treatment."

His eyes narrowed when Brock laughed. It wasn't supposed to be a funny tale, and Crane at least found nothing funny about it. Let Brock see how he liked getting stuck in the face with a taser before he laughed about it. "What, traveling through various cities is exciting to listen to? I'll remember that the next time I'm relating the story," he replied sarcastically. No one had said anything about a 'happy little doctor', as far as he'd remembered, so where Brock had gotten that impression was beyond him.

But Brock was more right than he knew. Crane relished the idea of revenge, but not just against the Bat. The Bat may have screwed up some major plans there towards the end of Crane's stay in Gotham, but before that he'd rather get revenge on, well...everyone. Anyone who'd known him as a kid growing up, whether they were the bullies or the ones who sat back and did nothing to stop it, such at the teachers, the professors...and especially Ms. Dawes, for being the one who started trying to bring him down. That was when the Bat had interfered directly with his agenda and not just Falcone's. The Bat would be the first on the list because otherwise he'd interfere again, but after that there was so much more that Crane had outlined...

However, revenge was what had brought him here in the first place. He had to remember that; until he could rebuild his supply of the toxin and could go back into Gotham and do what needed to be done, revenge needed to be a thing for his dreams. "I think you'll find you need to think on a larger scale, Mr. Brock. It's not just the Bat's fault. His fault, her fault, everyone's fault. Even mine, I suppose."

[blacksustenance]

The symbiote ignored the false concern for their health. The body would heal, crude dressings aside, and anyway, they had better things to be thinking about. Placing the seeds of doubt was among them.

"So what are you going to do about it, Jonathon Crane?" the symbiote asked, curling Brock's lips into a mocking smile. "We only see a sad, meek little scarecrow of a man, who waits instead of taking what he wants and makes empty excuses for his inaction. Pitiful."

They glanced down at the briefcase pointedly.

"Where did you get that store of toxin? Did Landels give it to you? Are you happy just to have this limited dose or do you want more for your revenge? They're hiding it from you, denying you what you're due."

[damned_doctors]

"It's a little thing called patience, Mr. Brock. With time, things will sort themselves out. Regardless of what today's society says, not everything has to yield an immediate result."

At the very least, Crane thought, Brock knew all the right things to say. The comment about the toxin made him search his memory, trying to remember how he'd gotten it. He'd brought it with him, hadn't he? No, what he had had during the Bat's invasion of Arkham had been seized by the police, and during all the panic when the gas had been released all over the city, he just been able to get out of Gotham. So none had been salvaged. But then, he also didn't remember being given it by the Institute. Besides, how would they have had it in the first place? And even if they did, he would have nothing against them. They'd given him a second chance at life, in a sense, and he had some of his toxin back. That was enough for him, for the moment.

Was more really what he was due, though? He knew how, he could always make more. Like he'd just said, it took time. He glanced down at his watch and realized he hadn't been pacing himself. Shame on me for letting this patient get to me, he thought. He's delusional, plain and simple, and he must be fairly far gone to switch me with someone else from his memory. It's not that uncommon, so why did I believe him? Ah, forget it.

"Well, Mr. Brock," he finally said, "if you'll excuse me, I still have other patients to attend to today, so I believe I'm going to have to stop. I can see about arranging another chance for us to talk before the next session, if you'd like, or else I'll see you next time. Your nurse will take you back to either Arts and Crafts or the Sun Room, depending on which you'd prefer."