Freeing Fear [Jon, Jere]

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

Anyone who didn't know VerMillion better would probably mistake her for being nervous. But she isn't - actually, she's very excited! Ever since returning from her appointment with Dr. Arkham earlier in the day she's literally been unable to sit still for very long. It's not like her to anticipate anything so acutely as to be excited over it for hours beforehand, but this time she can't help but be excited.

Not that she's looking forward to this evening's activities as a fully positive event. It's a change, mostly - a big change. One that will hopefully make Heather much happier. Which, in turn, will make VerMillion happier - if only because Heather is so miserable to have in your head when she's been this miserable for this long. And she's sure that Jon will be pleased by the change as well. Still, there's the drawbacks - she won't be able to regularly see Dr. Arkham after this. In fact, this is probably going to be goodbye for awhile at the very least, though since she knows that Jon has a tendency to end up in the asylum from time to time she'll still count this as a temporary separation. And she will definitely be missing him, and will be sure to let him know exactly how much she missed him the moment she sees him again.

In fact, the mere thought of that was enough for her to cut their discussion short so that she could say goodbye to him properly before they ran out of time for the session. She only hopes that Heather and Jon appreciate what she's giving up for them. So far it's hard to tell with Heather, who won't stop worrying about everything. Which is ridiculous, of course, because everything will work out just fine. But it's for that reason that she's stayed out ever since she got back - Heather's worrying will probably result in Jon figuring out what's going on, and it's better if he doesn't. Then again, VerMillion staying out while they're in the safety and quiet of their cell is unusual since she usually makes Heather take control whenever things are boring, not to mention the strangeness of her being this excited about anything for this long. Well, so maybe he'll figure out that something's up. But he certainly won't find out what it is from her - nope!

Time ticks by at a crawl, which she constantly verifies by checking her clock. Evening comes, dinner arrives and is cleaned up after, then the asylum begins to wind down for the night. But as the evening progresses, VerMillion keeps getting more and more antsy, to the point that she's pacing in her cell - it begins any moment now...

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

The workers in the kitchen were finishing up for the night, putting away the newly clean dishes and preparing food for those residents allowed midnight snacks. Most of them had gone home by that point and very few remained. Everywhere else in the facilities everyone was changing shift and that included the penitentiary where Jonathan and Heather/VerMillion were being kept.

“I didn’t know I’d be working with you t’night, Dennis. I was sure it was that new guy Maples on duty,” one guard spoke as they entered into the Penitentiary building and made a beeline for the break room where their lockers were.

The locker room was clean, well as clean as it could be. Stains from one exploding hot pocket after another couldn’t be scoured from the microwave and the paint was dingy from years of gathering dirt and dust and really who knew what else. It’d seen better days but it was another home for the night guards. It was familiar.

Dennis shoved his t-shirt into his locker and opened the dry-cleaning bag he’d brought with him. In it was his freshly laundered uniform shirt. “Maples’s wife went into labor. I was on-call. Hoping you’d get to slack with the new guy doing all the work? That what it is, Evan?” It was a tease and Evan’s knew it. He was just pulling his gray, button up with the Arkham ensign on it. He chuckled. “Yeah, you know it. Still, lucky guy,” he went to the mirror across the room and fixed his short, black hair. “First kid. My three are a handful.”

Dennis had lighter hair, a sandy brown. He was just slightly older than Evan at the age of thirty-two to the other’s twenty-seven. “I have one, and he’s handful. Just graduated the first grade.”

“Jesus, they grow up fast. One of mine is going to middle school in the fall.”

A whistle left Dennis’s lips, but he couldn’t reply as their boss, well their boss’s boss came in carrying a drink holder that held three thermos from a café over the bridge.

“Doctor Arkham, we weren’t expecting you to come by.”

Jeremiah smiled, “Exactly, I wanted this to be a surprise. I’d planned to bring these for Maples and you, Walker,” he said to Evans, “but I just heard about his being called to the hospital so you can take his place, Vaughn.” He smiled at Dennis and set the drink holder on the table. He handed one to each of the guards and took the other for himself. “Sit, let’s drink together. A little caffeine to start the night. I made them both black because I wasn’t sure who liked it how.”

“That’s fine by me,” Dennis smiled as he took his own seat. Jeremiah had his lid open and was putting sugar in his while Evan too seemed to content for it to be black. What followed after was a few minutes of small talk before the two guards seemed to have trouble keeping their eyes open. Jeremiah continued to calmly sip his coffee as they commented back and forth about how they suddenly just felt exhausted.

Finally Jeremiah stood up, “I hope that coffee perks you up,” he said. He discarded his own into the trash can. “Have a good night.” He left the break room and with a glance back his mouth swooped into a sinful grin. He may as well have sauntered to the bathrooms because he didn’t have a care in the world.

The computer system that controlled the cameras here were malfunctioning and in the morning there would be no record of anything being recorded from the late afternoon until security came to retrieve and document the footage of the previous day. In addition the two guards on duty were minutes away from falling headfirst into those tables, sleeping. The sedative? A mixture of his own making, all herbal and undetectable on the drug screen. They’d be out of their systems before such a thing would even be thought of.

No, he didn’t have a care in the world as he opened one of the stalls and pulled out the duffel bag hiding within. He set it on the sink, opened it, and began to undress.

His blazer was first.

He removed and folded it neatly before he unknotted his tie and it was placed on his folded blazer. Next he opened his shirt, buttons unlatching just as easily as they had been fastened previously and cuffs opening as well. The white shirt was placed with the rest of his discarded clothing.

Jeremiah Arkham’s upper body was not unmarred. He wasn’t that lucky to get through the forty-three years he’d lived without scars, especially after he’d taken the job as Administrator and doctor here. Yet his earliest scar had nothing to do with this job. It was incision down his sternum. He’d been twenty-five when he’d gotten into a serious crash and his chest had be opened for surgery.

He had another wound on his left shoulder, a thin, sliver of a scar. The patient had been high on PCP and other drugs and had attacked him with the scalpel. He had similar wounds on his fingers from wrestling such weapons from inmates over the years as well. On his right hip was a long scar that followed almost to the middle of his back. Jonathan had inflicted that with a weapon he’d constructed from his mattress frame and springs. It was the reason why he’d been denied such a luxury for years.

His last scar was dip in his torso. A knife wound, the attack apart from his car crash that had come closest to killing him. The man had been one of the incurables, the crazed inmates who attacked more akin to animals than people. How’d they gotten knife he didn’t know, but it he’d been careful to be sure it had never happened again after that attack.

All the scars were testaments as to why being out of shape was a bad idea in this field. If he had been they would have been worse or more in number, but Jeremiah Arkham was anything out of shape.

He had broad chest and shoulders, upper body strength a key in fending off attackers. His suits hid the planes of muscle plainly visible now that he was bare from his waist up. He had defined abdominals, though his chest tapered down the lean muscle that made up his stomach.

Jeremiah folded his belt and toed off his shoes. His pants were soon apart of the neat pile and he pulled out the items from his duffel.

Dark, black slacks were pulled over his toned calves and thighs. He’d taken up running in his high school days, but he’d always been fast. He’d built his thighs and continued to do so to keep them stronger. He was forty-three, but he fitter than that. He’d taken care of himself.

He pulled on a white, wife beater, tucked it into his pants, and then out of the bag came the same gray, stylized uniform top as the security guards. He buttoned it and it too was tucked into his pants which he zipped and closed.

A hand ran over his stubble before he pulled on his last articles. The dark belt around his pants which he fasted a walkie to. It was a faulty one, but it would serve the purpose. He put his folded clothes into the duffel and it was returned to its hiding spot—an “out of order” toilet stall.

A whistle sounded up the path between the cells along with footfalls a few minutes later. His gait was casual as he passed cells most of which were empty and all of which filled with people who wouldn’t know his face anyway. Except to for two of them.

Jeremiah, now guard Arkham stopped between the cells of VerMillion and Jonathan. He flashed a grin at both of them.

“So who wants to get out?”

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane was being kept busy at his desk that had been returned to him by Dr. Arkham. He had actually listened to his requests this time as he had told him he would and it was a refreshing change. For a while there Dr. Crane didn’t believe he would make true on his word. Ever since that night they had spoken things had been a bit different between them. He didn’t believe that what happened before or the feelings surrounding it had completely subsided, but there was definitely something different about their relationship now.

Everything was still under rules of course, his desk was still tightly bolted to the floor and he was holding a very small pencil with no eraser. It was a pencil that he couldn’t do any damage with if he tried and it didn’t write well, but it did its job. He was already getting more than he expected. Why would Dr. Arkham be so…willing to give him this after this long he had treated him this way. Another peace offer was the only thing he could think of and for the moment he was willing to accept every part of it.

All of his focus was on his research and the notes that he was writing about it on the two sheets he’d been given. He didn’t have an eraser for mistakes, but he didn’t need one, he didn’t make mistakes with this anymore. These were notes that he had memorized already in his mind, these were things to reflect on while he sat and rotted in this cell. His mind needed to stay focused on his work and not what they had both done before. Even though things had gotten better he wouldn’t forget what Dr. Arkham did, it was simply to infuriate him, and it did the trick. The pencil broke across the paper just then and he cursed under his breath.

He would still not pay her any attention, even if he didn’t have anything more to write with. They wouldn’t give him a sharpener and it would take him too long to make one from scratch with these new materials. He set down the pencil and stared at the scratches on his paper. He didn’t have time to think about her right now, he was in the middle of his research and that was more important. His eyes lifted and glanced to the cell across from him but then back down as quickly as they came up. She didn’t know anything about his meeting with Luthor, he wondered if Dr. Arkham did. Eventually he would have to explain it to her.

So when the usual guard came up he paid him no mind and when he spoke even less. It wouldn’t be beyond the people that worked here to play a practical joke, but the voice stuck in his mind and it made him pay a glance. His eyes traveled around the costume that his doctor now wore. It was so out of character for the man to not be in his tailored suit with his properly shined cane at his side. What was he doing out like this?

Dr. Crane stood and went to the window. How could he refuse with so many questions posed already that needed to be answered. His fingers touched the glass and his nails tapped on it to get the doctor’s attention “Open or private invitations?” He asked just to clairify who exactly was getting out, if he was letting the asylum free it would be one thing, but just them or him for that mattered would be different entirely. He was willing to go but did the doctor really think that no one would notice or that he could do this without losing his job? “Or are you finally planning on showing me?” He spoke cryptically trying to find out exactly what his motives were. Dr. Arkham would know what he was talking about.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

Waiting for Dr. Arkham, VerMillion pays no attention to the guard making his rounds at first - but perhaps that's the beauty of such a disguise. Though, if only because she was expecting something, it does catch her attention when the guard stops. So she's already grinning when he asks his question. "You already know the answer to that," she replies, as she'd explained it to him during her session with him earlier.

VerMillion herself actually doesn't see much to dislike about the asylum. Well, she definitely doesn't like the stupid uniform, the overall lack of freedom, and all the other inherent disadvantages of being an asylum inmate. But she does have a bed that's both warm and dry, the ability to keep up her preferred standard of hygiene, and guaranteed meals everyday that were neither prepared by her nor 'prepared' by Jon - none of which was true in the sewers, even if that itself was a step up from the Penguin's prison. And she still has Jon here, even if she doesn't have direct access to him. Then again, she didn't have the sort of direct access to Jon that she'd wanted in the sewers either, so that's a moot point. There's also all the interesting people she meets in the rec room to add interest to her life - much better company than Jon's test subjects were, by and large. Oh yeah, and the major bonus: here she has her regular sessions with Dr. Arkham. So, on the whole, life at the asylum is pretty sweet to her.

Except for the one major issue: Heather. Who, for reasons that VerMillion doesn't really understand, completely hates it here. She knows that her other half is all depressed and whiny about her relationship with Dr. Arkham, and that's a part of it (even though she still doesn't understand why it upsets her so much). Another is perhaps because Heather can remember a time when they'd been in even more comfortable surroundings? VerMillion doesn't really - she's only lived in the Penguin's prison, the sewers, and now the asylum - but she does have Heather's memories. The old lab is what's easiest for her to remember, though, while the stuff before that gets kind of hazy... Though she's just guessing about that reason anyway, as the explanations that Heather has given her for her misery kind of escape her.

The important part of it, at least to VerMillion, is that Heather is not happy here. And when Heather isn't happy, it gets kind of hard for VerMillion to stay happy - Heather is just that much of a downer. So VerMillion wants to get out, even though she doesn't want to want to get out - she already knows that she's going to miss it, though if it cheers up her other half it'll be worth it. Probably.

For now, however, thoughts of why she wants to get out take a back seat to what's actually happening in the moment - VerMillion isn't one to dwell too long on anything else, after all. After she gives her reply, her attention shifts to Jon's reaction. Which causes her grin to shift into a look of confusion. What is Jon even talking about? Showing him what? It's so lame how many inside references these two have when they talk!

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

Not to say he was vain, even if he was, but yes, Jeremiah does believe that not only could he pull this off, but that he could do it without losing his job. He knew it in fact. Who would better know every sure way from the asylum than man who owned it; the man who knew the blueprints and every camera’s blindspot? All the rumors the asylum population had of him? Most were true and how did they think he got away with it? Was still getting away with it? Oh how foolish they were to underestimate him.

He chuckled at both VerMillion and Jonathan’s responses, and even after Jonathan’s question, his merriment didn’t go away. He didn’t frown like VerMillion had. Jeremiah’s feet brought him to Jonathan’s cell first. He made a beeline for the keypad, but instead of entering a code or swiping a card, he opened the side. No one’s words had been answered. Yet, as Jeremiah sabotaged the wiring and Jonathan’s cell opened he met the man’s eyes.

“It’s a consideration,” he replied off-handedly. “Maybe.”

Fixing the wiring was quick—it would be rearmed as soon as the cell closed once again. “The invitation is private. Only extended to you and Ms. Glass. It was her who convinced me to take these chances.” Because chances they were. Jeremiah may have been confident, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going through every way this could backfire as he turned next to VerMillion’s cell and keypad. He used the same process to unlock her cell. Within seconds he was pulling bak to survey his work.

Both doors were open. Both Scarecrow and VerMillion were now free.

Pride filled him. Arkham had longed to release Jonathan from the first night his once employee had become an inmate, but he never could. At the time he couldn’t have imagined being able to deal with the price that would need to be paid if he was ever discovered, but that had been ten years ago. Ten years. Jeremiah’s courage and apathy had grown since then. Slowly he was coming to realize something, but it had taken observing the freedom demonstrated by one who possessed no notion of fear to make this final decision.

Now here he was. He threw a pair of cuffs at VerMillion and Jonathan. “One around each wrist. I have the key and as soon as we’re safe, they’ll be coming off.”

Jeremiah pushed his hands into his pockets. The place was quiet and when he started to whistle an aimless tune, it echoed in the hollow cells or caused a grumble amongst the others. “The less suspicion, the better.”

He knew he could do this. And he knew that if each one of them wanted to make their goal, they’d listen. VerMillion wanted Heather happy and Jonathan’s curiosity may have well have been another person in the room. He could feel it staring at him.

“It hasn’t been long since I told Jonathan, VerMillion, that had I given him up years ago as he believed…maybe still does,” he thought aloud, “that I would have revealed myself for the same examination and been found guilty similar crimes. I had nothing to gain by turning him in. I had everything to lose instead.” He peered around the cells. “I imagine you’ve heard the rumors about me already,” he smiled at VerMillion. “We have three hours before anyone finds the guards I had to incapacitate to pull this part off. I suppose I can show you whether those rumors are true, and show you what you’ve been longing to see, Jonathan…the proof of my guilt. You want to see the blood on my hands?”

He nodded. “You know what to do then.”

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane looked to VerMillion just as confused as when he looked to Dr. Arkham. She spoke as if she already knew this was going to happen. Everything was beginning to quickly blurr in his mind but piecing it together was simple. It was obvious that she had facilitated this escape with him, but why? Why would Dr. Arkham let her out and him? If he had been so adamant upon having her earlier it would be easy enough just to let her escape….But no…VerMillion wouldn’t stray from him. The deal was with or nothing at all.

The exact details of the deal would have to remain undiscovered for the time being. For now he was going to focus on what was at hand in front of him. The place they were now leaving was a personal hell for most that came. Dr. Crane once called it home when he stalked the outside and down the halls. Being in the cells was an opportunity not a prison. But outside of these walls now? He had no home. Dr. Crane truly never had a home and he was fine with that. There was never a place that he couldn’t adapt to and live in. To survive in Gotham as someone that society wanted to forget you had to learn to work in the smallest, darkest hole. He had lived in everything from a large home all the way to the sewer below. Truth be told, the sewers wasn’t the worst place he’d ever had to work in, but for VerMillion it probably wasn’t the most pleasant choice. He didn’t care to work in these places, but you did what you had to in this world.

He looked to VerMillion as the thought crossed his mind and Dr. Arkham’s words began to fade. The door before him opened and he stepped out of it, but he didn’t look at the doctor anymore, his focus was on her. His glacial stare was focused and deep within thought, he took no hesitation in cooperation with what he said about the cuffs. Dr. Crane faced his back to him and gave him his hands. He looked into her eyes, seeing them light from sedating her fears of being trapped here forever. Brave Toxin did wondrous things…but the one thing it did more than anything only he could see it seemed. What he had done for her already was in his eyes, it was something she didn’t know about, something that he had already given up. They wouldn’t be in a sewer anymore.

But he would never tell it that way.

His face went forward suddenly, eyes coming away from hers and Dr. Arkham’s words poured in again. Did it matter whether he believed him or not anymore? Especially at this moment? He didn’t think it did, but he would have liked to see it with his own eyes. The fact that Dr. Arkham was doing what he was right now showed a lot of it to be true in itself. Dr. Crane nodded with his final question, already having his wrists presented to him. “On with it then.” Dr. Crane spoke just above a whisper. He turned his head to see VerMillion again.

From one prison to another.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

Quick enough to step outside of her cell, VerMillion quickly finds her earlier anticipation of this event burning off into simple contentment. Good things are happening, and while she'll have at least a few regrets about it later, for now everything is right as rain. In fact she has enough confident in Dr. Arkham's plan to already be assuming that it will go off without a hitch even though he hadn't had the time to explain all the details of it to her earlier.

Catching the cuffs that Dr. Arkham throws, she places it on her wrist without a second thought. She glances up when he talks to her, but while she's certainly unaware of just how much of a past Dr. Arkham has it doesn't bother her in the least to know that he has one. If anything, that simply makes him more interesting... She shrugs and comments, "Yeah, I heard rumors - kind of hard to sort out which ones are real from the ones some nut hallucinated or something." See, there's the rumors that might be true, and then there's the ones that would have to violate laws of physics to be true, and then there's the ones that are somewhere in between... tough call sometimes...

Unconcerned by the fact that they're apparently going to take a detour on the way out, VerMillion simply proceeds to put the other cuff around Jon's wrist so that they're securely locked together. She must admit that a part of her kind of enjoys that... The other part of her is what causes her to turn to Dr. Arkham when she's satisfied with that and use her free arm to pull him close enough for her to plant a quick kiss on his cheek. Which is a remarkably chaste gesture on her part, compared to how she usually behaves anyway, but it's not out of consideration for Jon - no, she simply figures that it's better to not do anything horribly time consuming and distracting right now, as tempting as that is. "Thank you," she says quietly before she lets him go again, now waiting for him to proceed.

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

On with it then.

Jeremiah watched as the two cuffed themselves, listening idly but not really saying anything to it. Even his expression proved that while he was present, he also wasn’t. He would be the first to be honest about their position. All of them were vulnerable. He was working with what he knew, that if everything went as plan they had about three hours before discovery, but that was the ideal. When was anything ever ideal and so he had to move and get them moving fast. His thoughts raced, but him? He exuded an air of calm. Acting anything but rationally would only mess them up. He was committing a crime and there would be evidence that threw him into suspicion, but he just had to be sure that that evidence was circumstantial, could be easily disputed.

He could not make a big mistake.

The spell was broken when VerMillion kissed his cheek. He gave her a gentle smile and his hand came to her shoulder with a small squeeze. “Of course, I told I’ve wanted to do this. You actually believed me.”

He’ll never admit aloud how much that had meant to him, that someone actually believed he wanted to help Jonathan. Believed that he’d planned so many escape scenerios. This had been one of them, but it had been chosen for the ease with which he could add another person into it. A second was a high risk variable in many of the others. Not this one, though.

“We’re just going to walk out of this building and onto the grounds.” He adjusted his hat to obscure his face. “Once we get there, I’ll tell you where we’re going next.” He was relieved that he’d not need to tell them to kept their cool. If there were people he’d not have to give that reminder too it was Jonathan Crane and the alter of Ms. Heather Glass.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane glanced at VerMillion while Dr. Arkham spoke again about their situation. However much stalk he had put in his words, the fact remained that he had little reason now not to believe him. It was like trying to write on a chalk board now that had been scratched with metal up and down for years. Anything that he tried to do now was just going over raw damage, but he wasn’t completely at fault in this. Dr. Arkham had his own part in it, he could have done those things sooner. But he couldn’t deny that he never made it very easy for him to even get close to trying. In his mind there was always a lot more that could have been done, but would anything have changed his situation? No….He would have still been at the end of societies lynching.

The cuff went over his right hand. Instead of the aching pain that usually followed, this time it was replaced with actual room to roll his wrist if he wanted. It was a welcomed changed to how he was normally cuffed, but VerMillion wasn’t trying to do him harm, not in this sense. He took the blame upon himself for his experiment going awry but he could fix it. The problem was really outside factors, variables he couldn’t control without extensive effort. All that would have to change is that he was going to put forth that effort and correct his experiments behavior.

He listened to Dr. Arkham’s instructions but as they were being given Dr. Crane was already making his own. He walked with them, just as he said until they got to the next hall. Firmly he ripped VerMillion with him and made a dash inward instead of outward the asylum, not really caring what protests Dr. Arkham had at this point. He needed to make a detour on the way out and he wasn’t going to leave until he had done this.

He tugged VerMillion into the lab specimines room and immediately elbowed a scientist when he came through the door. He was on the floor, awake and groaning so he had to be quick. He drug VerMillion to the corner where he found a control group and reached in to grab a hamster. He curled it to himself and again rushed back through the door, whether Dr. Arkham had followed or not was irrelevant. His plan would have to change now regardless. This stop was important, among the raid they were never able to get Bobby and although Bobby didn’t mean anything to him he knew it meant something to VerMillion.

Whatever number this Bobby was it would have to do.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

"Well, as far as I know, you've never lied to me," VerMillion replies with a shrug. Jon's tried repeatedly to warn her away from him, of course, but when such things are said about a man who has never done a thing to her that she so much as objects to, that seems like flat out paranoia to VerMillion. Or maybe Dr. Arkham does do mean things to Jon, but clearly he treats her differently - Heather may take Jon's word for it about how awful the man is, but VerMillion is inclined to believe her own experience. And her own experience has led her view Dr. Arkham in an entirely different way.

Having been paying attention more to him, she's caught by surprise when Jon suddenly drags in a different direction. "Ow!" she complains, though it doesn't hurt too much. Probably wouldn't have hurt at all if she'd been paying attention, so it's her own fault, really. Since he's far too strong if he's determined to go somewhere for her to even think about stopping him, she doesn't. Instead she sighs as she's dragged along, not bothering to ask where they're going and why since he probably won't answer and she'll find out shortly anyway.

Though the answer doesn't make a whole lot of sense to VerMillion. It doesn't occur to her that Jon would make this detour now for her benefit since they're kind of in the middle of escaping here, so instead she assumes that he needs a hamster for some reason? It's true that she loves the small little animals though, and misses poor Bobby #5 that the Penguin took along with the rest of their stuff. Since she didn't have a hamster while they were in the sewer, that would make this Bobby #6. But she doesn't know that yet - instead what she knows is that she's again being dragged along. At least this time she's ready for it so she does her best to keep up so that she's following him more than being dragged - the latter is far more comfortable.

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

Jeremiah could have been angry. He could have chased after them like a man who’s skin was on fire and he desperately needed to find a shower or lake or something to save himself. Yet oddly for the reasons that were logical that he could have been fuming, he just sighed and with a firm stride followed them. He didn’t run. No need to draw anymore unwanted attention, not that anyone was around to see. He’d taken out the guards after all and disabled the security feed. The amount of drugs he’d pumped into those two sitting back in the break room would leave them with memory loss. They’d not remembered anything further than getting out of their cars. He didn’t have to worry about being fingered so why worry now?

In fact as he made it to the door, he was grinning. He stayed to the side as Jonathan came rushing back out and glanced in. He chuckled seeing the downed researcher. “Perfect,” was he said as he passed them to enter the room. The man in the room recognized him and that familiarity temporarily stopped him from noticing just how the head of Arkham was dressed. It also made him blind to the way Jeremiah’s eyes were running along the walls.

“Oh, thank god, Dr. Arkham, I was just,”

Jeremiah turned to him, “Shh,” he said and continued to search, but almost instantly he smiled. It was just enough time for the man on the floor to recognize just what his boss was wearing, but just as he opened his mouth to say something, there was a hiss and then Jeremiah forcibly held a mask to his face. His foot was also painfully thrust against his chest. He fought, but Jeremiah didn’t care at he tried to scrabble at him. It only took a few seconds for the inhalant to knock him out. Jeremiah tsked his tongue almost sadly before he picked him up, threw him on a gurney and simply wheeled him out.

“You have a new job now,” he told Jonathan and VerMillion. “You’re pushing him. He’s the only one in the building at this time. And if I’m right we still have a bit of time before anyone notices anything’s out of the ordinary.” He nodded. “He’ll come in handy soon enough anyway. Just follow me.”

And as if he wasn’t bothered—and he honestly wasn’t—he turned back down the hall and lead them away from the labs and towards the morgue.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

They met up with Dr. Arkham again just in time to see him moving the body onto the gurney and then giving them directions. Dr. Crane had already planned for him to be out of the asylum by now and VerMillion to follow him out. It would have been the best way to part ways, but Dr. Arkham was intelligent, he’d give him that. He was smart enough to know that if he wanted to keep track of him long he’d have to stay by him.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know his way around the asylum. It had changed somewhat since the last time he’d been here and they always did seem to have more security around lately. Though he highly doubt that it was all for him. They must have had someone bigger than him here, not that that was difficult to manage. But he could sense that even Dr. Arkham knew that something was different about Dr. Crane since he had been captured by the FBI. There were two sets of claw marks in that storage movement room. One were Croc’s and the others were his, but he had never shared this information and as far as he knew neither did the FBI. But once they had failed in their mission they promptly left.

Carefully, he set the hamster on top of the Gurney and looked at VerMillion. “Keep and eye on it while we reel this thing out with Dr. Arkham, if you have a better place for him I’d put him there.” he put the hamster back in her care. He just wanted to get it for her not take care of it for her, but he did go through the trouble to get it she could at least keep it alive until they left.
He grabbed the side of it and waited for VerMillion to come around to the other side and do the same. “ You’re planning on moving us out the front door?” he asked almost in disbelief. He’d made it out the front door once, with Edward and they had planned a lot more of that. Actually Edward had planned all of it, Dr. Crane just went with him. It was just as he said, afterward they were able to walk right out the front door without anyone even knowing.

It wasn’t until they made a turn toward the morgue that he started to understand. Again there were more than enough fire escapes that way, but under heavy security.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

If anyone's going to object to Dr. Arkham's directions, it's not VerMillion, and if Jon's going to object there's little that she can do about it so she just keeps her mouth shut. But it looks like Jon's going to cooperate now, and for that VerMillion is glad - she'd rather have Jon drag her around several more times than to have to sit through those two arguing again.

Fortunately, the hamster now put in her charge is more than enough to distract her from such miserable thoughts. This is technically her first time ever seeing one, since she didn't exist until after Heather last saw Bobby #5, but she certainly inherited Heather's fondness for the small creatures.

"Hey, little guy!" she says to it, putting a finger of her free hand just near enough to it for it to sniff it if it wants. She quickly notes that it's a pretty mild-mannered one - it doesn't seem too particularly freaked out by the fact that it's been pulled out of it's home and deposited somewhere completely foreign. Perhaps whatever part it had been playing in whomever's research had involved that happening from time to time. It seems content to simply quietly explore where it's been placed, including the presented finger - the whiskers make VerMillion giggle.

And distract her enough that she's a bit sluggish to take up her own position so that she can help push the gurney. But she finally notes where Jon needs her to be and starts to push in unison with him. Well, almost unison - she's now far more interested in watching the hamster than she is in where they're going and what the other two are talking about. She already knows where they're going - out, eventually, and she trusts that they'll get there enough that she sees no reason why she needs to pay attention to every step of the way.

Especially not when the hamster is being cute - which is always! I mean, look at his cute little legs! And whatever they're talking about is probably uninteresting and not worth listening to very much, and if it shifts to something that she definitely needs to pay attention to then she trusts that they'll get her attention.

[Jeremiah Arkham - Black Mask]

They could have gone out the front door, but while the morgue and further back is usually more heavily guarded, it’s not tonight. Jeremiah had planned for this and a bit of sedative in the security officer’s office had him slumped over the controls and had allowed Jeremiah to switch off the cameras, fail-safes, and other measures he wanted. He’d have to make sure once the Asylum was upgraded with the funds the Metropham Gala had given him to be sure that the controls for such things were not housed together. It was just too easy for someone to fool with them and then stuff like this was happening.

Imagine just who could get out if they figured it out. Most had; Jeremiah knew that.

“You gave us a witness we have to dispose of, Dr. Crane,” Jeremiah told Jonathan as he pushed open a door easily to a treatment room. “Help me, place him on the bed. I’ll need to wake him up, unless you’d like the honors.”

He strolled around the bed in the space after the worker was on it and to a cabinet. He opened it and pulled out a tray which he brought to the bedside. “I showed you my shop of horrors, Jonathan, but I never showed you just what I like to do to people or patients who strike my more…delicate interests.” He began rolling up a sleeve on the man’s arm.

“And the thing about being director is…I know when people aren’t doing their jobs. The medical examiner, for instance. She should be down here, but I happen to know from a few little parakeets that she’ll be gone for another two hours as she and the guard from upstairs in the Medical Bay commandeer his office for…I imagine you can guess.”

He picked up a needle from the tray and grabbed a small bottle from behind him. He filled it just a bit and then rolled it between his fingers and looked up at Jonathan. “So, Dr. Crane, am I doing the honors or you? And VerMillion…I have a task for you if you’d like. Nothing dangerous. I just stashed an extra set of clothes in the lockers down here. I can’t very well leave by the front gate looking like a guard now can I?” He chuckled softly and offered her a smile. “Could you please get them for me?”