They always do. The violent ones are often hooded, cuffed and lead into their cells with a full police escort and him. I have often wondered why he is the one bringing in the crazies and he’s not got a room himself. I mean really, who the hell dresses up as a giant bat? What kind of police force trusts a guy who dresses up as a giant bat? And here they are, dragging this poor kook in here like he’s not even human. I tell yah, this town is going to the dogs.
He must be one of the violent ones if he’s hooded. They never remove the hood until they are in their cell and restrained. Here’s where I come in I guess. I pushed myself away from the desk and into standing position, stretched my back and grabbed my clipboard.
'What have we got today Mistah G?'
Gordon paused, staring into the small window of the sterile, padded room belonging to the now cooperative, albeit heavily restrained, faceless man in the hood. He turned to me, sighed and replied with a slow, relieved whisper:
'We finally got him.’
I walked over to the room and handed the clipboard to Gordon. 'You’ll need to fill this in whoever he is and I’ll need to see that he's not injured. Will he need sedating?'
'Oh definitely’ replied Gordon, as he scribbled details onto the patient form, 'this one 's a handful, so you’ll want to have him sedated before you go in there, Doc.'
'And there I was thinking you didn't care. Well, let's get the hood off for a start and see what kind of damage your caped friend has done this time.' I turned, staring at the man bat, narrowing my eyes. 'Maybe he should be in here instead of this poor thing. I have a room free, yah know.'
The bat turned and sauntered down the corridor, hand raised behind him in a wave.
The hell does he think he is, beating on people and dumping in here like we're a garbage disposal? I should declare him insane and lock him in here, see how he likes it.
I sighed and turned back to Gordon and gestured towards the bat. 'So what do you say huh, wanna lock him up too?' Gordon chuckled and handed me back the clipboard. I briefly flipped through the pages, checking the details and then signed the form, noting the patients name.
'Jack Napier huh, what's he in for?'
'He's a highly dangerous, highly volatile domestic terrorist. He's gonna be held here until he stands trial to determine whether it's the death penalty or life in they asylum' Gordon often cleaned his glasses when he was uncomfortable. Blackgate might have been the toughest prison we have in the city, but it's full to the brim with violent offenders. This guy would have a party in a place like Blackgate. Better for the police if he's held here in the asylum where we can keep him sedated until his trial.
'Gotcha, I'll get him booked in for psychotherapist sessions. I'm guessing you suspect only someone who is criminally insane would...' I paused as I read the case file 'Wow. You weren't kidding huh.' I buzzed for the orderly using the button panel situated on the wall by the cell. Things have been a lot more secure here since a generous donation from a Mister Wayne of Wayne enterprises. Maybe he's got a relative in here.
I turned back to Gordon. 'I can keep him here for a while, but if we deem him legally sane, he'll have to be moved to Blackgate to stand trial. Has he got a lawyer?'
'We've had to assign him a state attorney.' He sighed.
'Poor bastard. Can't you get Dent to take his case?'
'Dent wouldn't take it, apparently Mr Napier here got his money dirty and Dent doesn't fancy touching it.'
I frowned. I never get cop humour. 'Oh well, we'll take good care of him here, G. I'll get a report back to you as soon as I can. In the mean time, you should start thinking about getting that bat man of yours to drop by. I'd love to hear his story.'
Gordon chuckled again. 'I'll be sure to pass on the message.'
The orderlies arrived with meds and a straight jacket. 5 years at med school and the most effective way they can think to restrain a patient is with some cloth. Still, if it ain't broke and all. I nodded a goodbye to Gordon as he turned to leave, the other officers following suit.
I opened the door of the cell and gave the orderlies space to secure the patient for interview. I dislike sedating patients until I get their full medical records, mostly because I like to know who I'm actually talking to when I'm deciding treatment.
'Mr Napier, My name is Doctor Quinzel. I am here to determine whether you are legally sane and fit to stand trial for the murder of police officers...' I paused and looked up from my clipboard. The man was quietly giggling to himself. This is gonna be quicker than I thought. I perched myself on the nearby table and met his gaze.
'Mr Napier, are you alright?'
He looked at me.
'Quin's a weird name' He said, with a smile.
'It's Quinzel' I corrected. 'Doctor Harleen Quinzel'
'I bet people remember you, huh!' He beamed, suddenly animated. I glanced at Neil the nearest orderly. He nodded, baton at the ready to restrain the patient. I raised a finger to pause him, he's not a threat. Neil held steady.
'Harleen. Quinzel. Harleeeeeen Quinzzzzel. I like it!' He rocked back and forth, repeating the words in a sing-song voice that grated on my nerves.
This guy is batshit. There's no way he'll stand a chance if he faces trial.
'Mr Napier, may I call you by your first name?'
'What's that then, my dear?'
He's testing me. New patients often do. They like to manipulate people and find out where the line is. Don't play ball, Harl. 'Your name is Jack Napier, am I correct?'
'Oh, I'm sure it's something, what's in a name anyway?' He leaned towards me and smiled warmly.
The makeup made it hard to tell his age, but all of his known details were in the case file so I didn't need to ask, not that i'd get a straight answer if I did. Nevertheless, He appeared to be in his mid thirties, with age lines forming around his mouth, eyes and forehead. His skin was heavily scarred in places, some of which appeared to be chemical burns, most likely a result of his questionable hobbies. His hair had been dyed green and the orderlies had replaced his mauve suit with standard Arkham pajamas and the straight jacket, leaving him as part of the furniture. I liked the suit, it stood out. It's a shame; we strip people of their personality and call it progress.
Suddenly his eyes locked on mine. A cold shiver slithered from my neck, down my spine and settled itself in my stomach. His eyes were ice blue and fierce as an arctic winter; cold, desolate and endless. If it wasn't for the inane grin on his lips, I would be certain that he was gripped by sadness. It took me a second to realise that I had stopped breathing. I drew breath, my chest aching as it rose to replace the lost oxygen. I looked down at the clipboard, my face burning. Those eyes are so lonely.
'Mr Napier, it It says here that you have murdered 3 people. I would like to know your version of the events prior to your arrest, would you be willing to share that with me?'
The man leaned back on the bed and settled himself against the wall, regarding me as a coyote does a rabbit and grinning at a victory only he recognised.