Deleted Member
Deleted
Registered On: Mar 28, 2024 6:37:54 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 0
|
Last Edit: Jul 11, 2014 8:44:48 GMT -5 by Deleted
|
Post by Deleted on Jul 11, 2014 8:43:46 GMT -5
One way glass sat between the six hundred year old Assassin and the two Doctors who stood inspecting him from the other room. As still as the bricks around him, Ra’s sat upon the floor in the middle of the enclosed space, rather than on the small bed by the corner. Only a few hours had passed since he had been deposited here by Bruce Wayne and his accomplice Selina Kyle, no more than a day at most. In contrast to his sophisticated suit he wore to his original meeting with Miss Kyle, now he wore the same orange jumpsuit as every other damned soul in this institute, this prison for the insane. By the time the sedative that was administered to him wore off, he had already been checked in by the scheming pair, with them claiming him to be a troubled man with no grip upon reality.
However they could not be further from the truth. Like so many who inhabited this facility, Ra’s thought himself to be truly sane, a trait shared by many criminals institutionalized, however as the Doctors would soon find out, he held no distinctive mental traits which would classify him as mentally disturbed. Some may believe him to be sadistic or even a psychopath, yet Ra’s al Ghul has full control over his actions, aware of what he is doing. Simply he is an extreme realist, a man who has the means to change the World and the genius to accept that he can only do it through so called evil means. A consequentialist, nothing more. Whatever drug they used on him had worn off, only leaving pained joints and numbed nerves behind. Having underestimated Selina Kyle, this imprisonment was his punishment but he judged that he wouldn’t be detained for very long. Either someone will free him or the Doctors will discover that he is not insane.
“Male, late fifties, brought in a few hours ago by a Miss. Selina Kyle. Allegedly he broke into her office and had a mental breakdown, rambling on about Bruce Wayne no less.” Flicking through the entry form provided, the young Doctor inspected the report given to administration on who the Man was. A yawn stifled from the other youthful Doctor who sat on a revolving chair, obviously tired of running the grave yard shift. “Another senile old fart? Send him back to his retirement home or whatever, let them deal with him. He must have forgotten to take some pills.” A shared laughter broke out as they joked about the meditating patient. “You’re probably right, I’ll give him a quick look over then release him, he’s nothing to waste our time on. When are we going to get to patients like Crane or Dent? We get stuck with guys like this all the time.” While talking, he picked up his warm plastic cup of coffee and took a short stiff before getting some on his red and blue tie, cursing as he attempted to drain it out. Realizing the time, the other Doctor said his farewells and was off, leaving the coffee stained Youth with his next appointment, a Mr. Henri Ducard.
The door of the Cell creaked open as he buzzed his way through with the identity card on his coat pocket, closing it behind him as he removed the pen from the clip board and began his session. “Hello Mr. Ducard, I’m Dr. Phillips and I’ll be giving you a quick check over. How are you feeling tonight?” Eye shut calmly, there was no need for the Head of the Demon to open them, already he had a mental image of the man before him plus he did not care enough about him to engage in visual conversation. “Don't fool yourself into thinking that I desire to speak to you."
|
|
Deleted Member
Deleted
Registered On: Mar 28, 2024 6:37:54 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 0
|
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 1, 2014 8:20:30 GMT -5
The phone call had been quite disconcerting. Jones had been kind enough to call ahead to her, considering he had been quite aware she was still working in Metropolis. So as she had taken the call, overlooking the sunrise she had sighed quietly. It seems that father's little appointment had not gone quite as well as he'd anticipated. It seemed the woman he'd gone calling on had been direly under-estimated. That was a small flaw of his. He tended to under the 'fairer, lesser sex' as he so disdained. But as the call concluded, it seems that he had been painted as a senile older gentleman, ranting and raving. The tox screen had come back with a sedative, mixed with something else. It seemed that the woman had worked with him, as she was aware only a few men who carried such a heady drug on them for those small, just in case moments.
Standing as she rose from her desk, she had to smile. His protocols were cute. But she would never allow such a need for a little endeavor like that. You had to play the game better. And so she had. Those little just-in-cases for her were already in place. And like the good child, no, the good daughter she was, she had her own precautions in place. And her employees were loyal.
Heels clipping the office's marble floor, manicured hands folded behind her as she looked out the spacious floor to ceiling windows of her office in LexCorp. While Luthor was playing in Gotham, she had been overseeing his day-to-day activities and expenditures. As a favor. Quite droll, but she was learning more and more about finance. Rich amber eyes survey the city below her as she sighs slightly. It seems she needs to gather a few things before her helicopter arrives.
The ride was uneventful. Now about mid-morning she disembarked to a car ready and waiting for her as she nodded curtly to the driver. He took the garment bag she had been carrying and notified her that her tea was ready within as well. Smiling politely, the gesture not quite reaching her eyes she thanked him as they left the city for the Asylum. Sipping her tea she watched the sights of the dirtier metropolitan sister-city pass her tinted window. The grime already settled into her pores and how she wished for the dry heat of her home. The crystal oases, the delicate silks of her childhood. The people here were too harried, too glued to their electronic toys. Too ignorant. Even her father had fallen to one of it's city rats. What a fool.
As the vehicle paused again, and her door was opened, garment bag once more passed to her, she was met at the doors of the grim Asylum, Jones meeting her once again, personally. "He has met with a doctor, but has been moved to a secure, private room Ms. Head." The man stated, his eyes averted as they walked the hall. "I appreciate your diligence Aqil. After we have departed cycle them. You understand how my father is regarding occupation security." A tight smile is on her face, her hair loosely falling over her shoulders.
Their walk is short, the few sounds muffled behind doors and the soft swishing of the garment bag. As Aqil goes through the motions of badge swiping, door opening, keys turned and so forth, she refrains from rolling her eyes as they are finally allowed entrance to another room. Opened to her, the door closes quietly behind her. Reaching into her pocket before speaking, she depresses a button on her cellphone before speaking.
"Father. I have come with a change of clothing for you, and an offer of brunch, if you would mind accompanying me to brunch. I have reservations at the Swan Lounge. While it is no Vienna, it is quite a view." Unzipping the bag, she offers forth the custom made suit, shirt, and everything else he would need. It is a bit more modern, updated, but still suiting his style. Holding it out to him she waits until he takes it to turn her back on him to allow him to change. While it is only slightly respectful, and disrespectful, there are certain things that asylums don't guarantee; such as privacy whilst changing in a maximum security room, albeit a private one.
|
|
Deleted Member
Deleted
Registered On: Mar 28, 2024 6:37:54 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 0
|
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 15, 2014 14:44:23 GMT -5
Four walls surrounded him, a ceiling and a floor. All concrete and steel. It would take weeks to break out through anywhere other than the door, and that would be with the correct equipment which would be nigh impossible to ascertain within the Asylum. So the door it would be for him, and even that would be a challenge. Electronically operated, with a card system replacing the previous key and lock mechanism. Every essential member of staff holds a key card tailored to them, which registers their information and allows them to pass around the many buildings on the Island. The only time Ra’s had seen it being used was when the Guards brought him to this solitary confinement quarter even though he had committed no offence during his short time as a patient. If he were to escape, first he would need to ascertain a card from one of the Guards or Doctors of the facility.
But he had no need to escape as he knew that the League had many eyes and ears within these walls, loyal servants to his cause who would have reported his incarceration upon arrival. A shadow may take any form, including a prison officer. No doubt he had being moved to this room for that very reason, so that he may be escorted discreetly without arousing suspicion. So when the buzz of the door signalled it’s opening, (as he was sitting down with his back to the entrance), he was not shocked, surprised or relieved, just pleased. A smell familiar to him wafted up his falcon like nose, Talia. Now that was a surprise, as he had placed her in Metropolis at his last guess, so she must have came all this way to liberate him personally. “My daughter, your scent is an oasis in this Arkham abyss.”
As he took to his feet, his hand removed the bag from her own, opening it up to inspect its contents before removing them. It had been many months since he had seen his youngest and perhaps loyalist daughter. Her heart is in the right place, her loyalty unshakable and her skills unmatchable, yet somehow she was one of Ra’s’ greatest weaknesses and not because of her frankly distant relationship with him. Talia reminded him of a life he can never have, of one outside of the League. She could not be seen as his daughter, he could show no attachment to her that may weaken him, she is another servant, albeit one with his high cheek bones and dark eyes. If only she was born a man, an heir worthy of the title. The allure of food was all too appealing to him, after the past few days events. There was likely more sedative in his system than he wished to admit to yet still the sting of embarrassment of being defeated by a girl was fresh in his mind. Next time she will need more than a flimsy needle to defeat him. “The restaurant with suffice nicely.”
The orange jump suit stuck to his muscular figure like a leach, clinging to him until he tore it off and threw it in the corner. He knew that her eyes would be wandering as he changed, to avoid contact but he didn’t care as he slipped on the coal suit, with a matching black tie and shirt. From one end of the colour spectrum with the luminous orange jumpsuit, to the total ebony outfit he wore now. “Let us leave; I fear I’ve stayed here far too long already.” Following Talia from the room and out into the corridor, he would have to deter to her judgement upon how to leave the gloomy building to the Swan Lounge which waited. Why weren’t you born a man?
|
|
Deleted Member
Deleted
Registered On: Mar 28, 2024 6:37:54 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 0
|
|
Post by Deleted on Aug 29, 2014 4:18:49 GMT -5
She had prepared a tea in case whatever this woman had dosed her father with was still within his system. A warm thermos was also with her. She set this on the small table within the room. As her father greeted her she shifted her chin slightly in greeting. His words were sweet but his face cloudy. There was always the disdain, the air of wishing for more when she was in his presence. Failure, it reeked off him. Failure in procuring a more loyal, male heir.
Her eyes fell to their feet as she turned. He had taken the garments from her and she waited. One would question the intelligence of one turning their back on the Demon, but she would also question their training if they were so juvenile to only depend on their sight to see. "It is from Arcadia, father. When we were there." A visit. A lesson she would never forget. The scent reminded her whenever she pressed it's fragrant oil to her neck, her wrists. She was silent until he spoke to her again. Eyes lifted she now recognized the man before her instead of the frail grandfather in a jumper.
"Hariq has been gracious with his accommodations." She stated. Only when he mentioned their time to leave did she turn once more to him. "The tea." She would remind him as they strode from the now opened cell to the awaiting vehicle. Slipping inside before her father she settled in and hoped there would be minimal conversation until they reached the Lounge. They had the entire venue to themselves with the luxurious view, only a short drive through the Gothic city, and another lift ride to one of the upper levels where a table await them. The preparations and seamlessness in which the entire endeavor had progressed still did little to erase the sense of dissapointment that hung in the air between them. She could never do enough. But this was not new to her.
|
|