A New Associate (Ragady)

[saxman59]

Roman walked down the dark, narrow, hallway inside a building he hoped never to enter again. He had left Arkham with a severe dislike of the place, this coming from the man who has spent nearly half his life inside the cold walls of Blackgate without so much as a fearful blink. Slightly ahead of him walked a corrupt Arkham doctor that owed Roman a favor. Pulling himself out of his deepest, darkest memories of the place, Roman listened to what the thin, ferrety looking man was saying.

"For the entire first day she was here all she would say was some utter nonsense about something she called 'Stitches.' Nothing showed up on any of my searches. But, then again, I could be mis-translating. My German is mediocre at best." Roman absorbed this fact impassively. Nearly 9% of Gotham's citizens weren't born in this country. "We had to put her here in the psych ward because she is very obviously unstable. Even the Joker seems to be a little bit wary around her, and that's saying something!"

This fact more than anything disturbed Roman. Anything that made The Clown Prince of Crime nervous was cause for concern. At that very moment, the two men passed the Jokers cell. The slumped figure was chuckling weakley to himself in a far corner of the room. Roman hated it when people compared to the Joker. Sure, Roman might go a little bit wacky sometimes, but Joker took insanity to whole new hieghts. At least Roman knew where to draw the line.

"Here it is. Cell 15. I had her as removed from the other patients as possible for your little chat. I'll be right here if you need me." Roman shook hands with the man, before turning and looking into the cell. He took a moment to reflect on his situation. He was standing in one of the city's most secure buildings, armed, and about to have a highly illegal conversation with a top-security patient. Not even lawyers got that right. Having friends on the inside who owed you favors always helped. Of course, the fat stack of hundred dollar bills Roman had just palmed the good doctor didn't hurt either.

By just straining his eyes, Roman could make out a strangely shaped figure on the ground. "Good evening, frauline," he said, speaking in fluent German. Those classes paid off in the end. "Could you tell me what your name is?"

[ragady]

Ragady had been caught., it seemed. She had been visiting one of her warehouses, with all her pretty dolls, and it seemed an officer had found the place and been waiting for her return. She would need a safer location, or better security it seemed.

Ragady hadn't said a word, not to anyone. Not even to the lawyer they had appointed her. She was granted a short trial, where upon the judge sentenced her to Arkham, mentioning something about the "other costumed freaks". She did not exactly protest, but she was not helpful either. Limp as the creature she resembled, they had to drag her from place to place. The guards learned quickly that she did not respond to pokes or prods, or even to electricity beyond the involuntary jerks or twitches of muscles.

They drug her to her cell, and there she had remained still, lifeless it seemed. She would not even budge for food. It was finally in the office of her appointed therapist, where they threatened to connect her to an IV if she did not begin responding at least enough to keep herself nourished. She had given a twitch, a simple jerk of movement which made the good "doctor" all but jump from her seat. She had given the softly spoken words in her native tongue, and they had gotten from that only the word "stitches." Then she had returned to her unresponsive stance, and they made good on their threat to hook her up to the IV.

Now here she was. Laying so perfectly still, the dark hair a strike of color around her sickly pale form and the dull grey uniform. She was like a wraith, it was hard to tell if she was even breathing, though the staff did not exactly have a habit of keeping dead inmates. She did not even respond when the door opened at an unusual hour. She waited, until she heard a new voice speak in her mother tongue, and a single green eye drifted over to look at his form.

He had a skull. For a face. Now that was interesting, certainly enough to get her attention. He was speaking her language, so he obviously knew what the doctors knew. It was always polite when the Americans at least tried to indulge another culture, though his accent could use a bit of work. It was the thought which counted. She knew what he said, and considered whether to respond or not, though her face showed not a single hint of emotion. She did not move, but at last she did speak, in a quiet voice that drifted along the skin like a cobweb.
"Sie haben meine Akte, ja gelesen?" She gave the smallest smile then. With creaks and pops of bone, she sat up with just a few jerks. Stopping somewhere between laying down and properly sitting up, upper body seeming suspended, she observed him. She ignored the jump and gasp the doctor at the door gave.
"Why are you here?" she made the question almost sing-song, like a child who knows full well the potential trouble about to take place. He must have known, after all, the crimes for which she had been committed. He must have been looking for a nightmare, or he would not have come.

[saxman59]

Roman could not remember the last time he had been properly scared, but the strange movements of the woman certainly unnerved him. "I make it a rule to study the profile's of anyone who might kill me." Looking down into the eyes of the strange woman, he realized, without the stitches, she would have been a very pretty young woman. Strange what humanity did to people who were different.

"I want you to tell me something. Would you like to be free? Would like to get out of this place, and never come back? Get that damned needle out or your arm? But most imortantly, how would you like to have an unlimited amount of your precious 'dolls'? I can give you all this, and more."

Feeling the doctor's eyes on the back of his head, he leaned forward slightly to hide his next movements. Taking a switchblade from his pocket and handed it to the woman.

"Here. A show of good faith. Giving the woman a smile he knew she could never see. "How about that name?"

[ragady]

Ragady listened, and already knew this other creature must have been smart to come to that conclusion, though in truth she had no reason to kill him. Then again, she hadn't really had a good reason for most of the dolls she had selected either. It is true, she began by only collecting those who hurt her first, but after a while humans in general were all guilty in her mind. They didn't need to wrong her first.

He mentioned freedom. He mentioned more dolls. And then he offered her the blade. It was unwise, or at least it would have been. But he was offering her quite a lot at the moment. He had a skull for a face, he must have been a monster like her, not one of the humans squirming across the earth like maggots. She did not take the blade, but she did finish sitting up to a normal position, her head flopping to one side as if she could not properly support it.
"Are you offering me a job?" she spoke English, as she had a feeling he was better with it. He was obviously not one of the humans running this place, so she didn't mind switching to the American tongue as much. Jobs were not exactly something Ragady came by easily, not proper ones anyways. She had to admit, however, the idea had always been a fond one. She did not feel like giving a name if he was not, however. She didn't like the idea of the doctors here knowing her name.

[saxman59]

"Why, yes. I suppose I am," said Roman, not missing the suprised gasp of the doctor behind him. This wasn't part of the deal. Roman was only supposed to talk to her, not offer to get her out! In a blind panic, the doctor fumbled with the keys at his belt, attempting to jam them into the locks on the cell door.

Roman debated for just one moment before making up his mind. Flicking out the blade, he swiftly turned and, briefly taking aim, threw it. He didn't have to watch it to know where it was going to land. The four and half inch blade entered the man's chest, slid through his third and fourth ribs, and literally popped the corrupt man's evil heart. Death was almost instantaneous.

"He will not be missed. In fact, I rather wonder if I might not get a thank-you card," declared Roman, turning back to the girl curled on the floor. He noticed her eyes. They were a poisonous green, and filled with a mixture of hate and curiosity. But underneath those ragged pupils, there was another emotion. It was pain. Not physical pain, her file said she haid a genetic disorder that prevented her from feeling pain. This was pain of the soul, intertwined with lonliness. This creature, whatever it was, needed someone. Perhaps this was why she got all her 'dolls.' Maybe she just needed a companion.

Squatting down to look her in the eyes, Roman saw, for just the briefest moment, a longing in those poisonous eyes. "Come with me. I will be your employer. Your pay; whatever you could possibly want." Standing up, Roman towered over the slumped figure. Without another word, he reached down, and offered the girl a hand.

[ragady]

Ragady watched as the knife sailed through the air, landing with a satisfying grunt from the human. Watching it crumble made her smile, a smile which grew at the confirmation of employment. She drew the needle from her arm, and was just moving to get up herself when he offered a hand. She eyed it for a moment, unaccustomed to such a notion, so that it took her a moment to register what the movement meant.

She took the offered hand.
"Ich bin Ragady, at your service." Tilting her head to glance at the dead man she added,
"I suppose we ought to be leaving now..." there was no rush to her voice, however. The dead man was not truly a concern, just something to take into consideration with the current situation.
She wasn't sure what all her new job would include, though she could tell it would be exactly her kind of work. No matter the case, she imagined it would be rather nice to have a purpose worked out. Ragady, after all, had always been more inclined to follow than to lead.