Catalysts and Chains [Lex]

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

During daylight hours let it be known that Jeremiah Arkham more often than not followed all health code restrictions. He refrained from smoking inside any building of Arkham Asylum and took his smoke breaks out on the front steps of Arkham Mansion. But right now it wasn’t day and he’d clocked out from his job over ten minutes ago.

Jeremiah Arkham walked from the men’s restroom, coffee cup dangling from hand, a lit cigarette hanging from between his lips as he walked down the hall and reentered his office. The coffee cup he placed in a small cupboard that sat above his couch and when that task was done, he removed the cigarette from his lips and blew the smoke from his mouth while he moved again to sit behind his desk. He tapped the cigarette on the lip of his dark, blue ashtray and set it down as his attention shifted to his computer. With a few clicks he was signed and the computer shutting down. It was all a routine as little by little he disconnected himself from Arkham Asylum more and more. He had been expected home an hour ago, but he was in no hurry to get there and more and more his work was keeping him later and later. That night it’d be a fight erupting in the last block of recreation time. Jeremiah spied the almost completed report sitting on his desk and snatched the forms before placing them in a manila envelope. This he placed in he pulled from beside his desk along with several other envelopes and various folders. Even when Jeremiah had a day off, it never really was without work.

He snapped the briefcase closed and for a moment removed his glasses and rubbed his temples. He was ready for home. Ready to walk in the door, kick off his shoes, and grab a glass of scotch before he disrobed and climbed in bed. He vaguely wondered if he was hungry or just so tired his stomach was queasy? It was necessarily a physical weariness as much as a mental fatigue that bore into his skull. He pushed away from the desk, replacing his glasses and picked up his cigarette again. He took a long drag as he took his white coat from the back of his chair and searched it for anything he’d need to take home. Once that quest was satisfied he crossed the room to hang on off his coat rack.

That was when he heard the front doors of the Mansion open.

With a frustrated sigh, he moved out of his office. He didn’t hear the nightguard of Mansion and worked his mouth. Probably on break. Of course.

He smoothed his tie and began down the hall. He began speaking before he fully entered the entrance way.

“I’m sorry but the Asylum is-”

He stopped as he saw just who was had walked in, but that really didn’t make him any less displeased. It was still late and he had thought the man had some semblance to come during actual business hours. Still Jeremiah cleared his throat and strode to close the distance between them.

“Mr. Luthor, you’re…visiting at an unusual hour,” he said politely and held out his hand for the man.

[Deleted]

The dreariness of the car ride to Arkham Asylum was stilted. This was his first and only visit to the Asylum. The iron-black gate was symbolic of the failed and failure of the staff to treat its patients, who are at more of fault because they are too psychotic, ill, or physically troubled to accept treatment. But that says more about the medical staff then it does about the patients; A hospital that cannot treat its patients. Sounds similar to a bank that cannot protect its clients. And like that same analogy, there are thousands of Arkham’s in the World. It just so happens that this particular, once-happily distinguished one, is the subject of receiving a boost.

As the car passed the checkpoint and circled around the shallow court outside of the massive doors, Lex wondered if this was truly the place that he should be focusing on. This was a project that would lead him to better things. The pores on his fingers knew that this institution had been worked on many times. Each new upgrade only lasted for a year or so and by that time the inmates would likely destroy it or better yet the upgrades would fail. As his elastic fingers graced the handles to the main entrance, he took a breath in and relaxed.

While the outside looked like a cross between Little Shop of Horrors and Singing in the Rain, the inside reminded him of Shakespeare. All the powerful players, locked into an asylum, mixing Ophelia with the Marquis De Sade. That would be a wonderful and titanic play. Something that even Lex would spend some money on to see. The thought of doing good to this place of unworkable good, made him slightly doubt himself. This place didn’t need new security- it needed a bulldozer and a well talented construction team to re-do everything. But his ears picked up the man that he needed. The man that he had read, investigated, read more about, and searched. This was a man of equal stature in the game of power, someone who had the fortunate and unfortunate position of being surrounded by goats and chickens; one who so wished to position himself into a corner to torture these chickens and goats with treatment and magical balls. But Lex was not here for treatment, he was here for the doctor’s benefit. He was here to succeed, not to small talk.

Lex's balck eyes doted to Arkham and behind him, echoing a deep command simply by standing. The doctor was now backing off, easing away to ensure ample distance to a weapon as well as keeping his analytical eyes on the bringer of life and death. He shook the doctor’s hand, it was a medium grasp before speaking, “Late hours deem either stupidity or the impressing of an important matter. I am here for the latter, but the former may be in your eyes only at least temporarily.” Such a layered phrase made Lex smile in gratitude, not arrogance.

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

“The latter was on my mind,” Jeremiah admitted to him after he’d released his hand. He felt no need to stand down in the presence of Lex Luthor. Not for lack respect, but for lack of honest fear of the man. He had no reason to fear him, no reason to be plainly submissive, and further Jeremiah wasn’t submissive. He had a will that many could call mulish when irritated, stalwart when impressed. You fear something, you give it power and there no reason to fear Mr. Luthor nor show him if he did. “Was on my mind, but then I saw it was you who had come in. Now I am more irritated that no one greeted you.” Of course there he was referring to no guard having investigated his business or calling the elder doctor to announce that the business man was there to speak to him.

He offered the man a smile of greeting and welcome as well before he turned on his foot. “Do follow me, Mr. Luthor, my office is much more comfortable for the business you bring.” And Jeremiah was a fool if he didn’t know the type of business he intended to offer. Though Lex had never once set foot inside of Arkham, its name had been infamous for years since his Uncle had opened it in the 1920s. Yet back in that day, mental illness was hardly understood and his uncle saw such as a disease much like influenza or even the common cold. Asylums were still under the practice of being the prime place you sent family members of embarrassment to, unwanted children, your nagging wife. And while yes, Jeremiah longed to place himself in a position of greater power to use his patients to his own benefit, even those extremes made him shiver. Of course, that was leaving out how lovely a place an asylum would be to stash your enemies. In the thick walls of Arkham Asylum, where was a better place to be forgotten?

But Luthor was under the right impression. It was the same thought that Jeremiah had. Security, cell renovations, Jeremiah wanted nothing more than to see some of it demolished and rebuilt. The place had worked for its purpose when he’d first acquired it, but it needed more than a new coat of paint. It needed a new spirit. Arkham Asylum was like a drowning victim that required CPR. It was blue, lifeless. It needed to be slapped to bring color to its cheeks again. It needed to open its eyes. Perhaps even the man in charge needed his own reality check, but nevermind that.

Jeremiah lead the short distance from the entrance to the staff hall that held his office. The door was open and the light still on. He crossed to the desk and picked up his cigarette from the ashtray and took a drag as he turned back to face Lex, aware the man had followed. “Take a seat anywhere, I’m merely a host. You’re the one offering valuable time speak with me.” He ground the burning butt out and discarded the ashes into the wastebin that the side of his desk.

“Take a seat and let’s not waste any more time.”

[Deleted]

Jeremiah Arkham was name that he had heard about. Heard about but never actually met or talked to. He was a busy man, he couldn’t indulge in luxuries all the time, and neither could Lex. But he gave a cocky and coy smile as Jeremiah mentioned the lousiness of his security to even greet Luthor. Yes, he thought the same, especially since he commanded every situation with the force of an almighty god and the brains of a zen master.

He heard rumors about Arkham’s unorthodox treatment of diseases- the only unorthodox thing being that the despite how reckless or damaging the treatment, some patients are not cured or resigned to give up the lifestyle of crime. It seems that such a treatment cannot cure the truly insane. Though to live in a city of merciless criminals, one must be insane. He followed the Doctors eyes, which were full of blackness and sparks of life. No doubt impressed that Luthor (the savior that he was) was here. This man doesn’t get sleep. Luthor instantly could tell that as he saw the dark-purple and brown spots that dotted underneath his eyelids. If this man is married, he wondered what his wife thought.

The pathway to Jeremiah’s office was an ample distance from the main entrance. It wasn’t long, but it did take him through the more “sceneic” view of the inside of the castle called, “Arkham”. He saw the veiled paintings, some were covered in a white apron (no doubt being taken down to be fixed or because of the inmates), while the creaking wood around the staircase made him uneasy. If he feel and hurt himself now, he would embarrass himself and the potential business-partner. He sat down in the lofty, maroon chair. The fireplace quickened, snatching and vibrating with the sound of little demon screams. He felt the rage and the relaxation in the room. Though, why the fireplace would be on was strange. The weather in Gotham was humid and sticky, not chilling and unwelcoming. Luthor only enjoyed Fall. Something about transitioning and the way things change. Fall was the best month for business deals, especially.

Compared to other seasons, the buyers and consumers needed to purchase the scarce goods, so that by inhospitable winter… all was well. Jeremiah’s mention of business commencing was refreshing, especially to a god like Luthor in which the mind gets lost in its own puzzles of interests. Shaking his head, and staring… absorbing all that was in this cove of an office, he looked at Arkham and pulled the chair closer (which made a squeaking kind of noise). He spoke firmly in his low baritone voice, “I am here, as you know, to do business. To present a potential offer that will not only impact and reconfigure how Arkham Asylum runds, but will insure the longevity of the resources that the facility has and is capable of accessing.” He had brought with him a bag of files that he wished to show the head of Arkham. He took out some files and his tablet to show some information. “I had my investigators and contacts research the Asylum. From patient cells, to structural issues, electricity working, network access, waste disposal, security mainframe, and potential room for improvement.” He continued with a wave of his hand pointing to the tablet and to Arkham as he spoke, “ The good news for the report is that this facility has massive room for improvement. The news that is less fortunate is that it is extremely costly.”

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

Jeremiah had never met Mr. Luthor. Of course he’d seen him periodically on television be it some conference or the news. He’d even read of him in the newspaper when Metropolis news became important enough to Gotham to be featured. Even with the man’s offer of funding, however, Jeremiah hadn’t expected to meet the man. He was just as busy if not as busy as Jeremiah, but all the same Jeremiah was grateful for the visit and brushed off the cocky smile, something he usually did not do. Jeremiah was an arrogant man himself and found the quality so alike him that it did bug him when anyone regarded him in the same light. He could talk to the security later. But that wasn’t even at the forefront of what he deemed important at the moment.

What was important now was Lex Luthor and the information he’d brought to him. Even his opinions were important. Jeremiah was aware that his methods were sometimes seen as unorthodox and that despite them being progressive they didn’t always cure a person. He’d always said that to work in Arkham Asylum you didn’t have to be insane, but it certainly helped and Jeremiah had been aware for a while that he was not on the scale of normalcy, though he could certainly fake it couldn’t he? Though he couldn’t fake the sleeplessness that plagued him and he knew that when he didn’t get the recommended amount—which he often didn’t—It did concern Melina.

Jeremiah as he sat in his office, now the both Luthor and himself comfortable in their respective seating made note in the easy silence that followed that needed to warn Luthor, though solid the wood could be creaky in some places and should be take carefully as it had caused a few to trip. It was in line to be repaired an endeavor he had enough previously given funding to pay for. His eyes also strayed during that moment to the fireplace, which was crackling. His office could be drafty and was one of the cooler rooms in the building. It could be a godsend on some days and a bane on others. Today had been a bit of the latter which prompted it being lit.

He was brought from such ruminations when Lex leaned forward. The noise of the chair caught his attention and his brown eyes turned to regard Luthor just as he began to speak. He listened attentively and when given the tablet he took it with a nod and perused the information displayed as the business man continued his diatribe. When he was finished he politely returned the tablet and leaned forward himself. Now he was ready to speak and he’d had enough time to construct an amble and conducive reply.

“I am impressed already at how thorough an investigation you have given this place. I would wish to waste your time on circumlocution and so we’ll stay to the point. I’m very aware that this place is an need of more than a simple new coat of paint, metaphorically speaking. It does have much room to improve.” He sat straight and nodded. “I’m also under no illusion that the fixes will be simple and cheap. I knew it would be costly and that I cannot imagine to pay for the repairs and updates needed. That is why you were contacted and I appreciate the consideration and I am inclined to accept your offer. You tell me what must be done, Mr. Luthor, and together you and I will do it. I am not one to sit back while others fix the mistakes I have made. I take responsibility and I will be a part of this. I hope you understand that.” He offered him a kind, but serious smile.