Psychiatrists

Ch. 7: Going Down

    "You're kidding," Rachel fumed. She paced back and forth across my office. "You can't be serious."
    "I'm perfectly serious, Rachel," I responded blatantly. The sound of rapid clicking filled the air as I typed. "I evaluated Victor Zsasz as you asked, and I've found him to be completely insane. I'm filling out my report for the judge as we speak."
    "Uuuuuuggggghhhhh." Rachel fell onto the the futon and rolled on to her side, facing away from me.
    "You know, you lay on that futon so much sometimes I think I oughta start charging ya for it," I commented. Rachel peeked over at me.
   "Ha ha, very funny," she drawled. She sat up and rested her head in her hands. "Damn," she muttered, "I was so ready to bag Crane too."
    "You're so ruthless," I joked. She peeked through her hands at me.
    "You don't believe me, do you?" she asked quietly. It wasn't so much an accusation, it was more of an inquiry.
     "About what?"
    "Crane being corrupt." She rested her head on her fists. "It's okay, you can tell me if you don't. I won't be mad."
    "You say that, but I know better than to believe it," I responded flatly. "Last time I disagreed with you on something like this, you stopped talking to me for almost a week."
    Rachel rolled her eyes and stood up. She walked behind my chair, leaned forward, and wrapped her arms around me.
    "I said I was sorry about that," she muttered, resting her chin on the top of my head. "You're never gonna let me forget, huh?"
    "Nope. I'm your best friend; it's in the job description."
    "Ha ha." I smiled and laughed quietly to myself. Rachel continued to hug me as I completed my report and printed it out. I stapled the papers and slipped them into a folder.
    "I suppose I can trust you to see that this gets to the judge, Miss Assisstant DA?" I asked, holding the file above my shoulder.
    "Of course you can," Rachel sighed, grabbing it and walking back to the front of my desk. As she plopped down onto the chair across from me, I was reminded suddenly of the object that Crane had dropped on the elevator. I'd brought it with me to Arkham in case I ran into him, but I didn't even know what it was; I hadn't looked at it since I first picked it up. I pulled it out of my pocket and examined it.
    It was a tiny black key. Oh, how anticlimactic. I moved it around my palm with my finger, turning it over and over. No engraving, no label, nada. Oh well.
    "Whatcha got there?" Rachel inquired.
    "Oh, nothing," I replied. "Just a key that Dr. Crane dropped the day I set up the appointment with Zsasz."
    "He dropped it?"
    "It fell out of his pocket when he left the elevator. He was gone before I could give it back." Glancing at the clock, I had an idea. "Hmm, I could go return it now..."
    "What?!" Rachel jolted upright, like I'd just tased her or something. "You're going to go all the way out there just to return a little key?"
    "Well, I don't want him to think I stole it," I retorted, "It could be important; you never know."
    "But right now?"
    "Why not? It's only 4:00... the asylum doesn't close to visitors until 8 p.m.; he's probably still there." I stood and started putting on my jacket; Rachel did the same.
    "Ok..." she relented, "Just don't stay out there too long. Arkham is definitely not the place to be when the sun goes down."
     "I'll be fine, Rach. I'm just gonna drop off the key and leave."
    "And be careful with Crane! I still don't trust him..."
    "Relax, Rachel! I'll. Be. Fine. Besides," I added with a playful smile, "I find him much more agreeable than you are most days!"
    "Oh shut up!" Rachel groaned, smacking me with a coat sleeve. I laughed and headed for the door. Once we were both outside, I locked up my office and we teased each other all the way to the parking lot.

    The only thing nice about Arkham Island was that there was zero traffic at 4:30 in the afternoon. It was almost a ghost town as I pulled up to the asylum. By that point I'd gotten used to the constant feeling of dread that hung over me every time I parked my car...
    "Hello, Dr. Quinzel," the receptionist greeted me as I approached her desk. "What can I do for you?"
    "Is Dr. Crane in?" I asked.
    "Ummmm I believe so. He hasn't clocked out yet. According to the schedule... he isn't in an appointment right now, so he should be in his office."
    "Alright, thank you." I was feeling slightly lazy, so I decided to take the elevator even though I was just going to the second floor. As the elevator doors closes and I was about to press the button, I noticed something:
    Beneath the button panel was a small keyhole labeled "Basement." Curious, I took the key out of my pocket and tested to see if it fit. It did.
     Out of habit, I automatically turned the key in its slot. The elevator rumbled and began going down. "This is probably a bad idea," I thought. "Oh well; I can always say I got lost..?"
    After a minute, the elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. I cautiously peeked out; when there was no one in sight I quickly exited and started walking towards the nearby doors. I slowly opened them.
    Creeeeaaak. I cursed silently and prayed that there was no one on the other side to hear the deafening echo. Peering through the small opening, I saw and heard zilch so I opened the door just enough for me to slip inside.
    The doorway lead out onto a balcony overlooking what appeared to be some sort of chemical lab. "What the hell is all of this?" I wondered. "What does Crane need a lab in the basement for???" On the far side of the  room, I could see a glowing red exit sign, so I swiftly headed down the flight of stairs onto the lab floor.
    As I made my way towards the exit, I could hear some rather loud popping noises off to the side. Glancing to my right, I saw a beaker full of clear liquid that was bubbling vigorously suspended above a lit Bunsen burner. Every lab safety instruction that had been drilled into me during my school years, particularly the one about not leaving active equipment unattended, slammed into my brain and took control. I instinctively veered off to the right to turn off the burner; not noticing that the weight of the beaker was causing it to tilt forward slightly. However, just as I turned it off - POP! The heat caused a collected swarm of bubbles in the liquid to burst all at once, sending an unconcentrated amount of vapor directly into my face!
    "AHH!" I immediately kept back, my eyes stinging and watering. I slammed into a cart or something, causing both it and I to crash onto the ground. Exposure to the air was only making the stinging worse, so I refrained from rubbing my eyes and just covered them with my hands.
    Curling into the fetal position, I did my best to not cry and whine while I waited for the pain to reduce even a little. It felt like the world was spinning like crazy around me. When it seemed like I could open my eyes again, I slowly moved my hands away from my face.
    I was not prepared for the sight before me....