maskormenacelogs | No one remembers your name

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No one remembers your name

WHO: Crane and Duo.
WHERE: Wayne Enterprises. De Chima.
WHEN: 23rd May. Morning.
WHAT: Reformed supervillain, huh?
WARNINGS: None anticipated; will edit in.

[Crane enters Wayne Enterprises at 7-o-clock sharp. The sensation of warmth begins filling his cheeks but it doesn't banish the uncomfortable feeling in his stomach as he scans the hall. He hears the sound of footsteps, followed by the sound of chatter around the corner. His caution doesn't reflect on his face, which surveys the distance like everything is far away, looking unsatisfied and bored. Everything in the world seems so mundane and pointless now.

He quietly walks past the staffed reception to catch a lift. Holds his breath and counts to five, and tries not to look too displeased by the staff member who jumps in at the last second.]

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[Even if Crane had tried to record Duo, he would have found the recording to hold a disappointing silence instead- security footage, comms, his choice to reveal his voice alone to Crane in the flesh meant he still shielded himself from recording devices as well as other people. After all, he knew the "Bruce Wayne" that owned the company was a Gotham native- meaning surely, even if the man hadn't already shown his hand at that Swear-In, he should know what Crane was capable of, and still he hired him on. He musn't allow anyone else to interfere.]

[After a short and thoughtful pause wherein he shifts a glance at the door's lock, he chuckles.] Well, I'm not surprised, if that's why you're asking. Although, I don't think it's the sort of 'company secret' that you want anyone within the company to know about.

Unless you plan to sell your services for commercial sabotage, now? Seems a little mercenarial for you, though. O, brilliant Doctor.

[The annoyance grows ever more sour. It reaches his throat and travels down to his heart, where it feels like a weight on his chest, but he gently pulls his right hand free of his side and scratches under his chin. His left hand presses against the small of his back. With a disappointed sigh he mourns the loss of this guy's manners.]

My work isn't for sale. [He smiles at the absurdity.] Mr. Wayne recruited me for my expertise. There are other reasons, of course, but I'm not one to break confidentiality.

[Yes he is, when in the company of the right people. Psychiatrist gossip!]

Your expertise in... the mind? Or the chemicals? [He says, carefully. He had never quite been exactly sure of how Wayne fit in with the rest of the Gotham loonies or the Bats, but from everything he'd heard it wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility for the guy to be interested in either one. Both could be lucrative business, under the right circumstances. It was only more surprising to him that this would be public knowledge, and yet none of the other capes would mind.]

[Unless... Wayne was in with the capes himself. He had no way of knowing one way or the other, from his past experience.]

But no, of course not. [He says, on both other counts.] You do everything for your own sake, right? One to just 'break' in general. So is that what I'm gonna find, locked away in that room back there? The results of your breaking people?

You tell me.

[He doesn't so much as contain his ego. He has something of an aptitude for exhibiting his pride - be it in his accomplishments or his elevated status. Truth be told, he rather enjoys getting to show off.]

Perhaps you might know what you'll discover already? Since you seem to be personally familiar with me.

I guess I might. I mean, it's not like you haven't made a name for yourself already. Makes me wonder how you're able to wander around freely. Deficit of bats flying around?

[Not as if it was anywhere near his first rodeo besides that- but it depended, didn't it, on just how many rodeos he'd been through...]

...Good thing for you they have a pretty soft moral code.

[Seconds tick by.

He shifts from one foot to the other. Rolls back his shoulders and tilts his head. The Batman. Gotham's finest. Well... he has been in plenty of scrapes in his life. What's a few more?]

You're not wrong. I would argue your assessment of their morality is made according to your own perception of what is moral, but I think that's something you should raise with them yourself.

That's sort of the nature of morality, yeah? If you're not a blowhard.

[He glances up and down Crane's back, takes in the way it's set, trying to read the atmosphere. Most importantly, trying to read whether there was some kind of power in play, or whether one was on the cusp. Triggering one of Crane's little episodes wasn't something he exactly wanted to experience again.]

[He takes a silent step back, a tiny precaution, before he continues again.] But really, they shoulda done away with you when you turned yourself in the last time. It's amazing no one else did- with as many enemies as you made.

What can I say? Everyone is too scared to do what needs be done.

[His back is naturally straight; his mood confident and secure. The usual stress that would cause him to tense his shoulders and stiffen his neck is completely absent. He carries himself with the attitude of a man who has rid himself of his fears.

He shrugs lightly.]

That they are too scared. That's hardly my problem, is it?

[Oh]

[You think you can taunt him, don't you, Crane? (Or maybe not, maybe this wasn't a signal... It could just be natural, typical Crane ego. A taunt to get him riled up into making mistakes. But he had to know for sure...)]

Fear of their own guilt, of their own demons. That's what it comes down to, right?

[He could test it. He could try. No, no, it was too risky- if that change in his brain was still there, it would only give Crane evidence and a chance to attack him again.]

[I'm not afraid of you!]

[Duo notices he's grinding his teeth silently, and clamps down on that tension before he can let himself speak with the proper amount of ease again.] Color me curious. What was the pyrokinetic afraid of? Since you're such the expert. You must remember them all, right? All your little test subjects.

[He could let on a hint of things being personal. After all, with how many enemies Crane had made, it wouldn't be a hint unless it would result in a confirmation.]

[Crane's expression is blank, impartial, when he turns his head in profile. The young man is searching for answers regarding some past grievance, obviously. Better provide them then, hadn't he?

His voice is level and calm.]

No. Should I?

[Well, that's a vague answer. But it's an honest one - and in more ways than one, at that. There had been so many criminals, so many test subjects, that some simply hadn't been fascinating enough towards the end.]

Anyway. Your hypothetical experiment is a little lost on me. Care to share?

[Tsk--] Information isn't very useful if you can't remember it, Doc. [The man scolds, allowing a sarcastic drawl to enter his tone.] You can run all these experiments, but if you can't correlate them to results, what's the point?

[But. That wasn't the point, was it? Something chilling bubbles up in his memory, but at least it's not as bad as the triggers were.]

An ebon spirit rises high, child of air and fire.
Born in death yet borne by wind,
It flies but does not tire.

Hey, don't you like riddles, Doc?

[People, when placed under intense scrutiny and investigation, provide information. He smooths his tie. For him information is knowledge; one doesn't need an emotional bond with a resource.]

Not particularly. By their nature they are unintuitive; they force an answer via the riddler's method. I prefer using my own tools.

[That settled it, didn't it? Crane, with all his ego, his delusions of grandeur, wouldn't scorn his own logical following, past or present, Duo reasoned. Perhaps alternate?]

[Hell, he'd heard of at least three Batmen and God knew how many Robins. Why not two or more Cranes? And besides, riddles weren't his thing, anyway. He was truthful about that.]

Ones that have a bit more room for adaptation, if I remember right. [Even if he couldn't be entirely sure what some of those tools were, now.]

[How to proceed. He could push about the locked door in front of them- it was suspicious enough already that he ought to find out here and now what Crane was up to again, before he could move or destroy the evidence. Unfortunately, Duo hadn't seen hide or hair of any bats or birds just yet, and he was an honorable enough guy- he wouldn't step on toes until he had evidence of it being necessary. And he really wasn't feeling in the mood to go a second round with Crane's methodology. It really irritated him that he wouldn't rightfully be able to justify paying this Crane back for what he'd done, back then, but it would simply be- unfair wasn't the word. Foolish, maybe. Petty, although he didn't particularly mind being that.]

[Fine, then. Cut his losses. "Run and hide", it was.]

Well, Doc, it looks like we're back to 'zero', as it were. Isn't it your lucky day? [...Wouldn't be Duo if he knew when to quit.]

[It doesn't make sense. With each passing minute he feels like he is the target of some personal vendetta. Granted, he had been on the receiving end of some back in the day, but he had always known why. He pulls back his shoulders and tips his head to its side.

Riddles. It isn't that he cannot solve them. He believes in his logical reasoning. Every day at Arkham it had kept him safe and able to get away with everything beneath his co-worker's noses. It simply is that nobody else's reasoning is sound. So why would he follow it? He strolls back to his desk and takes a seat.]

I don't believe in luck. Not as a force. [But the concept...] You seemingly unearthed the answer you were searching for, regardless, so please - excuse yourself out.

...No. Setting your own odds is better, isn't it? Shoulda figured you the type to stack the deck. [Not that Duo hadn't cheated a hand or a dozen before.] I guess that's a kind of adaptation, too.

[The dismissal gets a chuckle, the hubris of it just amusing enough to not pull some sarcastic, kneejerk-defiant refusal from him. But he should just take it. Better than pushing his luck and having his head broken again.]

[He's pretty sure that even if he had taken the opportunity to quietly sneak about beforehand, to steal through records and attempt to break into the room at the back, it wouldn't lessen the feeling of restlessness he has now. That even though Crane had no idea who he was or what he had made him do, his presence here would have Duo looking over his shoulder, remembering mistakes and dependencies, have him drowning in resentment and memories that hadn't resurfaced for decades.]

[He wasn't afraid of Crane, but he was afraid of becoming again what Crane's damage had made of him, in The City.]

You might be gettin' babysat for now, but the next time you slip up, you won't see me comin'.

[With that, the automatic door to Crane's office opens and closes seemingly on its own, leaving him to business.]

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