Laughideous
New Member
Arkham, for the doctor, had an chill. Not a good chill, no. It was almost, unwanting. And no, it couldn't have been the drafts from the unfixed air vent. This was, an odd sense.
Doctor Hannibal Lector leaned back in this chair, feeling the comforts of the fine leather matterial. Even from the safety of his un-neat in progress of organizing work era, he could still feel the eyes on him. The inmates, the feeling of glares at the back of his neck as he passed through the halls...it was still there. Chilly.
It was easy to imagine their hate. They didn't want to be here as it was neither his or their choice to put them here. That was force. The laws of right and wrong applied to choice and these inmates had unknowingly made theirs. But it was the cold stares that had done it, made him feel lesser at home and more of a job. Or not even a job at that. A demand.
Unlike them, it was his choice to be here. Perhaps, Being behind bars revealed more of your nature. That could have been it. He was around these inmates, murderers who knew blood and could smell fear, and he had no doubt, they could spot, even from miles down the Arkham halls, they'd know he was a killer. Maybe that was it. But of course it was fair, that only he could be the one roam free in such a place. He was a killer, indeed, and was smart enough to know not to get caught.
A few months earlier, just before his arrival, the inmates of Asylum organized a bomb that would set off inside the air vent of a water closet. In result, all pipes broke down and the air vent was destroyed, making it heat an impossible thing for the unexpected ing inmates of Arkham. Cold weather was around the corner and now in each hallway of the bomb ruined corridor, there sat a small plug in heater.
Leaning back in this seat, he praised himself from underneath the wool scarf wrapped around his neck, thankful that he had remembered to bring something warm on his first week at work. The scarf was wonderfully warm and he had no choice but to wear it though out the entire day a his office didn't have a heater, as it would be dangerous to entrust the inmates who came in to a fire manageable environment.
Halfway through the day, he had wondered if the bright red and black colors looked too flashy on him, even for this time of year. It was meant to be Christmas scarf, but it wasn't a gift given to him, rather he bought it for himself offline. The scarf was ordered only in different color than expected, but not being one to waste, after all he did buy it for that purpose, he choose to wore it today and of all days. Looking down and rubbing a hand to the material round his neck, he cringed.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Head pointing up, shoulders straightening, he looked to the figure entering the door. It was one of the female gaurds. "Ah! Come in." He smiled, standing up and brushing off the wrinkles in his suit.
"Easy there doc, I'm not here for a check up." The lady joked, flatly smiling as she walked over, in her arms holding a checklist. Following shortly behind a scrawny little man, who appeared to be more of a janitor than a prison guard, was just barely carrying a box. Far too heavy for his own weight it seemed.
Hannibal walked out from behind his desk to help, lifting the box over to his desk. Setting it down the bottom made a loud thud against the surface and his eyes scanned over the duck taped labeled with an arched frame.
"I thought the patient files were already put in storage." he blinks and frowns, closely inspecting the he box. " What might this be?"
"Thats your transfer patient." She spoke, declaring off the inmates number with pride. "Gotham prison has been keeping a hold of him for a while, until now we just discovered who the sucker really is." Her lips folded into a grin.
"Jerome Valeska." The small man murmmered, a shiver to his voice.
Oddly enough, the name rang a familiar bell. The doctor's lips pressed together flatly. That was..interesting. How had he heard the name before?
"Yes." He nodded with a polite smile, thanking them as the two took leave and closed the door behind with a click. "I assume that's all." He murmured to himself, looking down to the box. Really, It was way too big to be made for just one patient. What would he find inside?
Doctor Hannibal Lector leaned back in this chair, feeling the comforts of the fine leather matterial. Even from the safety of his un-neat in progress of organizing work era, he could still feel the eyes on him. The inmates, the feeling of glares at the back of his neck as he passed through the halls...it was still there. Chilly.
It was easy to imagine their hate. They didn't want to be here as it was neither his or their choice to put them here. That was force. The laws of right and wrong applied to choice and these inmates had unknowingly made theirs. But it was the cold stares that had done it, made him feel lesser at home and more of a job. Or not even a job at that. A demand.
Unlike them, it was his choice to be here. Perhaps, Being behind bars revealed more of your nature. That could have been it. He was around these inmates, murderers who knew blood and could smell fear, and he had no doubt, they could spot, even from miles down the Arkham halls, they'd know he was a killer. Maybe that was it. But of course it was fair, that only he could be the one roam free in such a place. He was a killer, indeed, and was smart enough to know not to get caught.
A few months earlier, just before his arrival, the inmates of Asylum organized a bomb that would set off inside the air vent of a water closet. In result, all pipes broke down and the air vent was destroyed, making it heat an impossible thing for the unexpected ing inmates of Arkham. Cold weather was around the corner and now in each hallway of the bomb ruined corridor, there sat a small plug in heater.
Leaning back in this seat, he praised himself from underneath the wool scarf wrapped around his neck, thankful that he had remembered to bring something warm on his first week at work. The scarf was wonderfully warm and he had no choice but to wear it though out the entire day a his office didn't have a heater, as it would be dangerous to entrust the inmates who came in to a fire manageable environment.
Halfway through the day, he had wondered if the bright red and black colors looked too flashy on him, even for this time of year. It was meant to be Christmas scarf, but it wasn't a gift given to him, rather he bought it for himself offline. The scarf was ordered only in different color than expected, but not being one to waste, after all he did buy it for that purpose, he choose to wore it today and of all days. Looking down and rubbing a hand to the material round his neck, he cringed.
A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Head pointing up, shoulders straightening, he looked to the figure entering the door. It was one of the female gaurds. "Ah! Come in." He smiled, standing up and brushing off the wrinkles in his suit.
"Easy there doc, I'm not here for a check up." The lady joked, flatly smiling as she walked over, in her arms holding a checklist. Following shortly behind a scrawny little man, who appeared to be more of a janitor than a prison guard, was just barely carrying a box. Far too heavy for his own weight it seemed.
Hannibal walked out from behind his desk to help, lifting the box over to his desk. Setting it down the bottom made a loud thud against the surface and his eyes scanned over the duck taped labeled with an arched frame.
"I thought the patient files were already put in storage." he blinks and frowns, closely inspecting the he box. " What might this be?"
"Thats your transfer patient." She spoke, declaring off the inmates number with pride. "Gotham prison has been keeping a hold of him for a while, until now we just discovered who the sucker really is." Her lips folded into a grin.
"Jerome Valeska." The small man murmmered, a shiver to his voice.
Oddly enough, the name rang a familiar bell. The doctor's lips pressed together flatly. That was..interesting. How had he heard the name before?
"Yes." He nodded with a polite smile, thanking them as the two took leave and closed the door behind with a click. "I assume that's all." He murmured to himself, looking down to the box. Really, It was way too big to be made for just one patient. What would he find inside?
