[Crane has been waiting in one of the empty buildings in the north side of Nova. He ushers Jason inside without ceremony. He seems to dislike having visitors. But that's not personal.]
You're early.
[How can he be early when there was no set time to arrive? The mind wonders.]
[Jason frowns as he carries his bin over to Crane. Inside are a collection of small bottles. Bleach, calcium cleaner, windex, as well as wood polish for the canoes, and other assorted chemicals.]
[Crane takes the bin and sets it on a table. He rustles the various cleaners and chemicals, reorganising them according to composition before putting them back inside.]
Can you get more?
[He hands the bin back. The message? They're not staying here long. They're going somewhere else.]
[At first, Jason thinks it's a prison, before remembering that there are two prisons in his Gotham: Blackgate and Arkham. He honestly can't tell which it might be, not even as they step through the doors.]
Where are we?
[He feels a bit stupid for asking, but what can a kid do.]
[But not as Jason knows it. The only commonality is how brutal the place feels. The entrance is different. The layout is different. The walls, the lighting, the reception desk. Crane wanders around to the other side and claims a pair of keys.]
I could take these with me, but it's always nice to mislead those who trouble me.
[Arkham is really going to bring the bats out the belfrey.]
[Jason has been here a total of once, to talk to his version of Scarecrow in person, but this doesn't look like his Arkham. Not enough permanently wet floors to do the job. He follows Crane to the reception desk and nods.]
That's pretty sick, actually.
[And Jason is also aware that this might bring the Bats down on his head, but he doesn't care. Fuck all of them.]
[Crane looks at Jason with a strange expression. Sick. Is that the language kids use these days?]
I'll take that as a compliment. This way, please.
[That said, he heads towards the elevator, an old contraption whose doors slide open. The journey takes them near but just short of the patient rooms.]
[Their journey continues through the patient rooms, around a corner and down a corridor, towards a treatment desk hidden behind plexiglass. He unlocks the door and exchanges his keys for another set upon the wall. There is a locked cabinet with controlled medication. But he ignores it and heads outside.]
One that's hard to find your way around if you don't know what you're looking for.
[Jason is treated to his explaination for one trick, but he doesn't show him his secrets. He leads him towards the large elevator down the hall, where he inserts his key and unlocks passage to the basement.]
[Jason can dig it. He keeps relatively close to Crane so as not to lose him in the winding pathways. He keeps hold of the bin as he looks around. It's actually pretty cool to have so many diversions leading to the important bits of Arkham and makes Jason want to find a way to make something similar for any place that he ends up putting down roots.]
[The remark makes the corner of his mouth twitch. But it is nothing except a small, controlled admission of amusement, designed to engender attachment.]
Hydrotherapy.
[He says nothing more as the elevator descends. It silently opens onto a dark and grimy limestone corridor, where water once permeated the walls this deep in the earth.]
This way, please.
[He is already heading down the corridor, at whose end is a heavy pair of doors. He braces himself with his hands and pushes them open to reveal a landing overlooking a makeshift laboratory.]
Must be that. [Jason shrugs, keeping his fingers tight on the bin. He glances up at the doors as they descend deeper underground and follows Crane into the corridor when they open again. Now the lab is more what he expected. He leans over to try and evaluate the entire set up to compare it to what his Crane had back home.]
[The entire room has been converted to a laboratory. Everything one needs for research and production is placed around in logical procession, following an order that makes sense only to his mind.]
It pays the bills.
[For research. Regardless, the setup looks to have had rigorous planning and funding]
Why would I sell a product that's for your personal use?
[Yours. Personal. Two intimate words that form a bond without consent. He follows Jason downstairs and smoothes his hands across a table. It feels like home.]
[If Jason wasn't already hardcore sold on this idea, the use of 'yours' and 'personal' has him entirely wrapped up. Whatever Crane needs, Jason will do.]
I mean-- that's cool. I'm down for that.
[He plays it off like he is not one of the most important sentences to have ever been spoken to him. Jason carries the bin downstairs and places it on the very corner of the table, not wanting to get in Crane's way.]
[Crane fiddles with one of the burners on his table. Fingers delicately check the instrument to make sure everything works.]
You'll be down for a number of things. I hope you aren't averse to hard work.
[Ferrying. Distribution. Working for others. And if news of his work leaks on his end? Well, the source won't be him, will it? Meaning he'll know who is precisely to blame.]
I'm good with hard work. [Jason's eyes lock in on the burner for a moment before turning his gaze back up Crane.]
Whatever you need. [Luckily Jason is a tough nut to crack and will take any and all beatings required to keep it secret. He needs this and he's not about to phone it in.]
There is a man named Silco. You should be aware of him.
[He's not a hard man to miss, given his presence and demeanour.]
Make yourself available to him. Do whatever he demands of you.
[The implication being he will soon be too busy to do anything except this. Only there's more.]
In any case, we shall not be working here. Too many prying eyes. [Bats and strangers alike.] But remember. Misdirection. Feed them misinformation. Let them believe we are. Keep bringing materials. Compounding. It would be good to see the looks on their faces when they realise all this is nothing but basic parasetamol.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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You're early.
[How can he be early when there was no set time to arrive? The mind wonders.]
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We never set a time.
[He stares a moment before offering up the bin.]
Got a variety.
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Can you get more?
[He hands the bin back. The message? They're not staying here long. They're going somewhere else.]
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I could, yeah. There's stuff in just about every apartment I raid.
[His fingers curl around the bin, his frown deepening.]
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Strange. But I suppose it means we have no risk of running low on resources.
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Yeah, we shouldn't run out any time soon.
[Again, his grip shifts on the bin.]
We going somewhere?
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Of course. This way, please.
[That said, he will lead Jason towards Arkham Asylum, though it won't be as he remembers it.]
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Where are we?
[He feels a bit stupid for asking, but what can a kid do.]
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[But not as Jason knows it. The only commonality is how brutal the place feels. The entrance is different. The layout is different. The walls, the lighting, the reception desk. Crane wanders around to the other side and claims a pair of keys.]
I could take these with me, but it's always nice to mislead those who trouble me.
[Arkham is really going to bring the bats out the belfrey.]
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That's pretty sick, actually.
[And Jason is also aware that this might bring the Bats down on his head, but he doesn't care. Fuck all of them.]
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I'll take that as a compliment. This way, please.
[That said, he heads towards the elevator, an old contraption whose doors slide open. The journey takes them near but just short of the patient rooms.]
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So this is what your Arkham looks like?
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[Their journey continues through the patient rooms, around a corner and down a corridor, towards a treatment desk hidden behind plexiglass. He unlocks the door and exchanges his keys for another set upon the wall. There is a locked cabinet with controlled medication. But he ignores it and heads outside.]
One that's hard to find your way around if you don't know what you're looking for.
[Jason is treated to his explaination for one trick, but he doesn't show him his secrets. He leads him towards the large elevator down the hall, where he inserts his key and unlocks passage to the basement.]
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[Jason can dig it. He keeps relatively close to Crane so as not to lose him in the winding pathways. He keeps hold of the bin as he looks around. It's actually pretty cool to have so many diversions leading to the important bits of Arkham and makes Jason want to find a way to make something similar for any place that he ends up putting down roots.]
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Hydrotherapy.
[He says nothing more as the elevator descends. It silently opens onto a dark and grimy limestone corridor, where water once permeated the walls this deep in the earth.]
This way, please.
[He is already heading down the corridor, at whose end is a heavy pair of doors. He braces himself with his hands and pushes them open to reveal a landing overlooking a makeshift laboratory.]
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Seems like a sweet gig.
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It pays the bills.
[For research. Regardless, the setup looks to have had rigorous planning and funding]
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You gonna sell fear antidote?
[Bless this child and his blinders.]
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[Yours. Personal. Two intimate words that form a bond without consent. He follows Jason downstairs and smoothes his hands across a table. It feels like home.]
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I mean-- that's cool. I'm down for that.
[He plays it off like he is not one of the most important sentences to have ever been spoken to him. Jason carries the bin downstairs and places it on the very corner of the table, not wanting to get in Crane's way.]
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You'll be down for a number of things. I hope you aren't averse to hard work.
[Ferrying. Distribution. Working for others. And if news of his work leaks on his end? Well, the source won't be him, will it? Meaning he'll know who is precisely to blame.]
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Whatever you need. [Luckily Jason is a tough nut to crack and will take any and all beatings required to keep it secret. He needs this and he's not about to phone it in.]
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[He's not a hard man to miss, given his presence and demeanour.]
Make yourself available to him. Do whatever he demands of you.
[The implication being he will soon be too busy to do anything except this. Only there's more.]
In any case, we shall not be working here. Too many prying eyes. [Bats and strangers alike.] But remember. Misdirection. Feed them misinformation. Let them believe we are. Keep bringing materials. Compounding. It would be good to see the looks on their faces when they realise all this is nothing but basic parasetamol.
Or whatever one is in the mood for.
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I can do that. [Jason nods, intrigued by the idea of misdirecting. He already knows he has eyes on him, so that should be easier to do.]
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[He reminds Jason of where they arranged to meet.]
Is where we shall discuss a rudimentary compound. We cannot trust these devices, after all. But we shall require proper security for the real thing.
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