Slipping Into Entropy - Part 17 (w/ small Crane fanmix)
Crane's room was noticeably better furnished than the other patients' within the asylum; the hospital staff didn't consider him a violent threat to himself or others, so they saw little reason to deprive him of some simple pleasures. A few pictures were hung on the wall, but Jonathan wasn't one for picturesque scenery or reproductions of famous paintings. Instead of sunsets and Picassos, the white walls featured squares expounding on the different lobes of the human brain. A chart of the Elements. Crane's doctorate, framed in dark wood. A detailled anatomical study of a bat, seen at rest and in flight at different angles, hung from one corner. Everything about the room gave the impression of almost robotic neatness and organization, including the skinny man himself, perched in an armchair with a book under his nose. His eyebrows rose as he coolly watched Batman enter the cell. "...to what do I owe this surprise?"
"Have a thing for bats?" Batman's eyes wandered over the pieces on the wall. He slipped the door shut behind him soundlessly, making sure it stayed unlocked as he did so, but lingered at the edges of the room. For a prison, it appeared almost cozy. Perhaps the good doctor still enjoyed a few perks having been one of Arkham's top specialists. Batman was aware since their last encounter that Crane wasn't afraid of him, or at least not outwardly so. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to remedy that. "I need.....a bit of information."
"Ah." Moving a ribbon to mark his place in the tome, he snapped it shut, setting it on the little trestle table near the bed. "The Batman, needing information he can't find for himself? It must be something unusual, or you wouldn't come to see me." Crane pushed his spectacles up from the end of his nose and laced his hands together, looking not the least bit perturbed. "How interesting. What makes you think I have the information you want? Or that I'd give it to you? If you've finally decided to seek help, I have a few good therapists I can recommend..."
"I've got a hunch, why don't we just say that? You wouldn't be the type to let something as interesting as this just....pass on by." With only Crane's reading light to illuminate the area, Batman's form was mostly bathed in shadow, the gravely voice coming from a motionless figure. "I think you'll give me what I ask for." Still Crane looked unfazed, but Batman's eyes searched for the little tells of nervousness that even the best actors sometimes let slip. "How well do you remember the night you took your own toxin? Of course, you know everything you saw was in your head....but you remember me, don't you?" He certainly remembered Crane clearly. It was the only time he'd seen the man wilt in terror, yet he was still the man who'd stood up to it the best that Batman had seen.
"Of course I do. A scientist is nothing without a keen mind and good memory." Crane certainly was a good actor, or at least good at repressing certain things; his body language and posture exuded confidence and relaxation, but there were little, faint lines of tension around his eyes and mouth as he watched his visitor from the chair in the corner. They were almost invisible, easily overlooked if you didn't know exactly what to look for. "Well, you think you have something to offer me, go ahead. Tell me what you think might intrigue me, and we'll see if you're on the mark."
Batman's spirits rose at the evasive turn in conversation. He may have had something there, and he filed that to the back of his mind should Crane decide to get cocky with him. "A man called the Joker was admitted here not long after you returned. He is....difficult to miss. I want to know what your impression of him was."
Ah, that caught his interest. A glint entered the man's eye and he leaned forward before he could stop himself, the corner of his mouth twitching as he realized he'd blown his chance to affect disinterest. "...he is, as you said, difficult to miss. Why would you want to know my opinion? Surely if you've broken into my cell, you've broken into the hospital records as well. If you're looking for his patient records, the archives should have them."
"True..... But Arkham's doctors, good as they may be, don't have the kind of....insight I'm looking for." He paused. "You were good at what you did. I need someone who's willing to look a little deeper, a little closer. I need someone who can...."relate" if you will. Someone who could guess what's in his head, what motivates him."
"Well, if you're looking for someone who is able to 'relate' to him, I'm afraid you're a bit out of luck," Crane intoned, examining and mentally dissecting his shadowy visitor while they talked. "I'm sure you gathered from the other doctor's notes that he has a fair number of personality and mood disorders compounded on each other. What they probably didn't have in his files were possibilities as to why they came into being. Theories about that are still argued over among the doctors of psychology, and I know that they wouldn't want to put anything but undeniable fact into the logs."
Shifting in his chair to better face the man lurking near the doorway, Crane paused. "...how much do you know about the basic theories behind what causes the development of homicidal tendencies?" he asked flatly, the tone as matter-of-fact as if he had just quizzed a student on the circumference of the moon.
"I know enough. But this isn't about me," Batman replied, very aware of Crane studying him, judging, just as he had done while searching for tells of Crane's fear. He did not want to let the subject turn back around on him. A part of him realized his curiosity in the Joker's reasoning and past had piqued once the prospect of revenge began to haunt him. He had gotten useful information from Dr. Jeremiah, but nothing he had to say touched on the Joker's motivations, simply a quick fix. He wasn't delusional enough to believe much more could be done for the Joker, but....to solve this mystery would be like understanding the great wonders of the world. For all he suspected, Crane may have been able to worm his way into a conversation or two with the Joker in spite of "official patient regulations".
A corner of Crane's mouth quirked upward for a moment, amused at the way Batman sidestepped the question... and noting the reaction for later. "I didn't say it was; I merely wanted to know how much I would have to explain. Even when one goes with the usual theories, that a head injury coupled with some form of childhood trauma or abuse can cause said child to grow into a monster... doesn't begin to cover for all the other disorders, much less the other quirks I observed in my, sadly, short time of access to him." Pushing his glasses into place again, the former doctor crossed his arms, leaning back to deliver his conclusion.
"The man, in short, isn't comprised simply of psychological short-circuits; there are other things missing, but it might be difficult for the other doctors to spot amidst everything else. Besides a lack of 'conscience', if you will, there's also a sense of poorly constructed ideas about how society and people relate to one another, somewhat like what might happen if one had only ever read books or watched documentaries on a subject but never experienced it in person. My personal opinion is that, combined with the classical theory on the development of serial killers, he must have been severely isolated for a prolonged period of time during the formative years in childhood, when personality develops."
Batman frowned. "Don't tell me all he needs is someone to show him how to give a hug." In spite of that statement, he did see a fair amount of reasoning behind Crane's hypothesis. It was obvious even to the casual observer that the Joker had gone through some kind of violent background, whether it was self inflicted or otherwise. The scars torn across his mouth were garish proof of that. However, the idea certainly didn't bode well for figuring out who the Joker was nor where he had come from if the man had rarely come into contact with other people. He didn't know how Crane had come upon this notion, but at least the mad doctor was forthcoming. "If that's true, supposing he became what he is now through some kind of trauma, why show up in Gotham? Why not pursue those who had terrorized him in the first place?" It was only then that Batman leaned forward slightly, the first move he'd made since entering Crane's cell. "Why pursue me?"
"See, that's where it gets interesting. There's always been speculation about how a human being would develop, behave, if it grew up isolated from all societal norms and was taught in a completely alien manner, but there's never been any experiments in the matter. For obvious reasons," Crane added, although his tone held a hint of disapproval of that decision. "What little we do know of the development of the human psyche is that it is, essentially, set in place in the early formative years. So no, I don't believe he's curable, if that's what you're asking me." How interesting, watching the little hidden flickers of expression behind that shadowed mask. He knows something. I wonder... "My best guess on the last? I don't think he'd be running free and in Gotham if he hadn't already dealt with whatever or whoever caused his condition, if I may call it that. He probably caused disturbances wherever he was before, but became more daring and flamboyant after getting a bit of inspiration from all the media coverage of a... kindred individual," he finished.
Under the shadows, dark eyes flashed. There was that statement again. One he could not believe in no matter how close to a wrecked life he had come in his own past. They both believed in using symbols to sway the public to their opinion, they both had a flare for the theatrical, and yes, he was fascinated with the Joker to some extent....but, to him, that was where the similarities ended. Their hopes and visions for the world clashes like night an day.
Batman decided to let Crane's assertion go. "How long have you spoken with him?"
"Not for very long. The other doctors didn't want me influencing him in a private... session, and he wasn't allowed to socialize with the other patients here for very long. He had a tendency to instill too much chaos, figure out and play off of each individual's psychoses that he came in contact with. After causing a number of disturbances and becoming violent after only a few nights of access to the Recreational room, the other doctors felt it wise to confine him to Solitary." Crane gestured to the stand beside his bed, indicating a little television sitting beside the pile of books. "I drew most of my conclusions after combining the media clips released on him with my own observations."
That icy stare came back to rest on the masked man's face, calculating. "...how long have you been hiding him?" he finally asked, putting two and two together to make ten.
Batman didn't know why, but somehow a small smile found it's way across his face. "I'm sure you already have a fair idea." If Crane was watching the news every night, there was no chance he had missed the grand misadventures of Gotham's masked hero and villain. The media was now questioning Batman's stance as a hero or a criminal of the city more than ever. But Crane was perceptive, and he doubted whether the doctor believed he had joined forces with the Joker by any measure of the word.
Crane answered with his own wry smile. "You have your hands full, then. I hope you realize that none of the doctors here could manage to keep him controlled or make any progress with him? They gave up entirely and just kept him flooded with barbiturates to keep him from attacking himself and others. I gather you probably already learned that from his records, but if you are thinking of continuing along that line of thinking, you should probably be made aware of what happens when someone is kept on barbiturates for prolonged periods of time." He gestured vaguely, his eyes losing focus briefly as he drew upon his memory.
"Dependence, and tolerance, quickly develops. It can result in some very bizarre reactions as well as having severe withdrawal symptoms, but while the body develops tolerance to the effects of the drug and requires higher doses, the lethal cutoff point never increases." His mouth twitched upward again; a cold, mocking half-smile. "Whether you keep him on the doctors' regimen or you eventually return him to Arkham, you might as well give him a lethal injection. The cocktail they have him on is the same mix they traditionally used to euthanize dogs, and eventually it will have the same effect."
This was....unsettling news at best. He wondered how long the doctors here had planned on keeping him on the substance. Probably as long as they could. He couldn't blame them completely. On the other hand, he may take a closer look into Arkham's practices when Dr. Jeremiah isn't around to hound him down. But he too had resorted to drugging his captive. It was....something to think about. Was there absolutely no way to stop him other than....this? Bruce had never liked the idea of narcotics, for medicine nor recreation, but he understood the need for them nevertheless. He had simply seen the damage they'd done to people on the streets far too often. Short of frying the man's brain, drugs were not going to stop him. So a new, hesitant plan began forming in Batman's mind. Used in moderation, at least they would slow him down. He nodded silently in acknowledgment.
"Now, was that all you wanted?" Crane's dispassionate, matter-of-fact tone was back in full force. He didn't quite want to drive his visitor away, as fascinating as the man was, but he couldn't help but feel that he'd come off the poorer in this exchange. "Or did you come to do more than just fish for information on how to housebreak your new pet?"
"No, Crane, you've been more than cooperative." Batman's eyes narrowed. He wasn't sure of the doctor's motivations for being so, other than threat of physical force, but he would keep his theories in mind for some time either way. "I shall leave you to your....luxurious residence."
Hearing no sound outside the doorway, Batman turned to leave.
"Always the pleasant one. Next time, come back with something to offer in return." Crane picked up his book, cracking it open to the spot he left off. He refused to watch the figure leave, give him the satisfaction of knowing he was curious. His gaze was firmly settled on the words on the page, but his mind was too busy humming with possibilities and his observances to concentrate on anything else.
Leaving the asylum was as simple as entering had been, and Batman's mind was a flurry of speculation the entire way back. Whether Crane had been motivated by ulterior forces or not, the concept he'd created for the Joker was the closest thing to real information Batman had heard so far. What unsettled him was letting the Scarecrow know that. He had far too many liberties within his cell to not be considered a threat, and the man fed off information.
He pulled into the lair, checked the news; police were still searching for the vigilante Batman and speculation ran in abundance on what really happened downtown and ended at the cemetery. No one had seen the dark knight, but the vehicle that had wreaked chaos on the street had clearly been his. No body found in the wreckage. No discernible reason for the attack had been suggested. It took less than five minutes for him to surmise the state of affairs. Things were grim indeed. When he'd had enough of it, he switched over to the surveillance monitor he had wired into the Joker's new quarters.
(( Barbiturates in high doses are used for physician-assisted suicide (PAS), and in combination with a muscle relaxant for euthanasia and for capital punishment by lethal injection. ))
I threw together a Crane music mix to keep in character during this scene.
Here's the rar of the Crane mix for those who are interested.