maskormenace | 4. (LUCID DREAMING) (VIDEO)

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4. (LUCID DREAMING) (VIDEO)

[Chilton wears an unusually grim expression, when he tunes into the Network. He closes his office door behind him, which angled the communicator down to his door-closing hand -- one of his fingers sports a particularly ancient looking ring. There's a sharp glint in that glimpse, before the camera angle soon directs back to the doctor's face.]

Desirable difficulty. Are you familiar with the concept? [Rhetorical, of course.] The theory that the presence of an inconvenience or obstacle, and the act of overcoming that roadblock, will better synthesize cerebral information. The concept could be expanded upon how the brain identifies and encodes patterns, themes, what have you, in the midst of a crisis.

[Chilton flips the communicator camera back around to showcase his environment. The bright ceiling luminescence and mint green hallways of Heropa Downtown Hospital provide a sterilized, if normalized, depiction of a stereotypical medical center.

It's the collapsed, unconscious doctors with their noose-like stethoscopes and limp, unmoving patients lining the walls, floor, the rooms that juxtapose something unsettling.]

Would you consider this difficulty desirable?

[This is all in reference to the Pestilence of the Horseman Plot. If you need an excuse for a point of infection, you can consider this to be it!]

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[Crane leans back in his chair.

All his unseen movements are matched by radio silence. He doesn't drum his fingers on his desk; he doesn't cough or rattle Chilton's cage. He refocuses himself in the quiet, oh that blessed solitude, and leaves Chilton's mind to its own devices.

Cautious Chilton. Cautious, careful Chilton. Why does he need to know what he wants? Why does he want to know what he's planning?

He's running scared but Hannibal Lecter isn't here. And while he isn't here, he isn't relevant - that's what others would believe. But Crane believed in the abstract and knew that symbols and words - and names - held power. So what about him had Chilton so invested in protecting himself?

Ah. Himself, yes. Chilton is running from more than one person, in every sense of the word.]

You know what I want, Frederick.

[There's a pause for emphasis, but then he licks his lips. His vocal sparring had shifted to a playful, disarming tone - like it had some months ago when his reply to one of Chilton's questions had simply been books.]

This is a public network. Perhaps I wanted to reply. Or perhaps to help you solve your puzzle. Though, the puzzle here doesn't seem too difficult, does it...

[Would you consider this difficulty desirable?]

I hope it infects you. [He said, after a long and brittle staring contest.] I hope it deprives you of consciousness so you cannot witness the panic brewing.

[It wasn't Chilton who required the help solving this puzzle -- he was the puzzle, and his anguish came from knowing that the more he obscured that fact, the more difficulty he would encounter, socially, once all this had passed. If it came to pass. And the rub: he was not a confessional man. Will Graham had once advised him to take advantage of a little soul-searching, and Chilton rejected the proposal. It was too costly then, but the long term investment cost even more.

He was trying to have it both ways now: luring a chosen few to the cure, while obscuring his own unwilling involvement. But beyond the calculation, beyond the damage control and influence he wielded, Chilton knew instinctively what a focus imbued with his likeness would wrought.]

I want you to get subjected to what awaits the sleeping.

[Crane wasn't a confessional man, either. He was too duplicitous in his dealings. He would weather a storm until it passed; or he would be creating one to rain water on the seeds of his research. Perhaps he simply desired a natural disaster. Those were excellent entertainment. Human beings thought themselves to have the nimble feet and balance of mountain goats, only to assuage their own fears nature couldn't turn their lives upside down.

But he was an honest man, when it came to himself. He didn't run away from who he was. Unlike Chilton, he had been committed into his asylum as a patient. He had been disgraced, by their standards. But he had his work. She was inside his chest, inside his heart - pumping his blood.

He'd lived with fear for so long that her presence was welcome.]

That would be nice, wouldn't it?

[His tone was dry, dismissive. He didn't respond with one note of fear. He'd hidden his excitement quite well. If he saw the Batman there he would be terrified. His breath would catch in his throat and his skin would shiver. But Chilton thought that was revenge? It would be undiluted pleasure.]

But I suppose you didn't receive the notice I don't care what you want. I'm sorry, but you just don't frighten me.

[He raised an eyebrow at that -- it was not his intent to frighten Crane. Avoid him? Yes. Diminish his reputation? Absolutely, because that was an enjoyable pastime. Concoct a devastating copycat just for the sake of irritating Crane? Yeah, that's always worked pretty well. But frighten him? Given how Crane -- if you'd excuse the Freudian quip -- practically sexualized fear? Oh, no. No.

Never.

That's better left to the men who wear leather and Kelvar by choice.]

My intern must have missed it.

[An observation amusing only to Chilton, given Reggie's recent predicament.]

But that won't evaporate my well-wishing to you, Jonathan.

[Despite his qualms demonstrated before Lucifer, Chilton was not a man above inflicting a little agony.]

Maybe I should direct it towards your Batman. He wouldn't be able to frighten you, either, when comatose.

[Humor was an appropriate bunker.]

[Oh, well wishing. Crane hated sentimentality; he hated pity, he hated love and he hated forgiveness. He did not need anyone's concern and scoffed at everyone's regards. He had endured - survived everything great-granny Keeny and the world could throw at him - and was continuing to grow.

Pity made his skin crawl. He curled his lip and flinched in disgust at this blatant attempt to get under his skin. It wasn't true forgiveness. He knew a trick when he saw it. To think he was so dumb! Then again, that was what Chilton was after, wasn't it? To slide into his bloodstream like he was poison.

His tone was calm and composed. Too much, perhaps, given the nature of that trick.]

I would like to see you try that, Frederick. I believe you're grossly overestimating your ability to operate in an unseen capacity. You would be a fool to dismiss the masterpiece of my research so readily.

And you are a fool for misinterpreting my intent.

[Chilton was a maestro of irony and illusion, and it wasn't surprising that Crane would dig into the baited hooks as Chilton had intended. The well-wishing, the leer at Batman. But Crane couldn't begin to comprehend how skillfully Chilton operated in an unseen capacity, and it was better that he continued underestimated Chilton's manipulation. It was a concrete pattern between them: Crane would provoke, Chilton would feint, and Crane would fall for it.

But Chilton, in his later conversations with Lucifer, would also mislead the devil -- with such success in those remarkable heights, it was certainly understandable where Crane would falter.

The well-wishing was a threat, coded and complex like a puzzle. There was nothing inherently pitying about it, and the irony remained: Crane interpreted an attack, yes, but the wrong one.]

Which is why it is sincerely in your benefit to stick to your own agenda. It would be a shame for someone to take away the one thing you truly care about.

[Honest words from a sharpened mouth.]

[Chilton had a better eye for the long-term. Crane was too abstract in his thinking, and he was too enamored with fear. He couldn't begin to perceive intentions - as witnessed with Ra's and his status as a pawn that would be left to rot in Gotham, in the chaos he'd created.

But Chilton was a fool if he believed he would be led off his own agenda. There was a simple truth Oswald Cobblepot was aware of; it was true that Crane could be guided, with a gentle hand, but he was extremely difficult to manipulate.

Oh, like he cares. About any of it. Just leave him alone with his work. There was an internal struggle, but he kept his composure; that calm, clinical facade that had made him a trinket - a poisoned chalice - for so many people.

Beautiful on the outside, toxic on the inside.]

Oh. I think if somebody believes they can steal away my special thing with manoeuvrings or medication... well, they'll be in for a surprise, won't they?

[That second word is his honest insight into the future. Once he's revealed his research he knows what will happen. The forces of Hell will be snapping at his heels, and Chilton won't be the only one. Oh, Chilton will be behind those. Thinking he doesn't see. Medication and treatment, and he knows the effects of both - what they'll try to take from him. But he isn't afraid. He is never afraid.]

[Chilton was no fool. What he offered was a warning, just as Crane had offered him -- if the other man couldn't appreciate the parallel, if he couldn't understand the intent, then Crane deserved all that he would be subjected to. After all, Chilton had not meant Crane's agenda, when he spoke of what he truly cared about. Those mentally nimble would adapt their agenda, and Chilton didn't underestimate Crane in that regard. Some part of him hoped that he wouldn't be misunderstood, because above all the kindred doublespeak was poignant in play.

Beauty was indeed subjected to the eye of the beholder -- subjective and inconsistent. Toxicity, however? That was far more objective. And toxicity could be measured, calculated, siphoned.]

Is that what you call him? Your special thing.

[He might be teasing, but Chilton is generous in his coaxing Crane to his main point.]

[Oh. He took it literally.]

No.

I'm sorry, I thought you enjoyed our tete-a-tete, Frederick. But if you've grown cold on these wordplay games, I suppose we can talk on a singular level.

[Well, Batman was unrivalled as a subject. That made him special, but he couldn't fear what an attack on that, his greatest work, might do to his sense of self. He had lost himself before, at Arkham, and he had been reborn as something terrifying. Perhaps the same might happen again.

There was something uncountable and frightening about an intelligent lunatic with no sense of direction.]

It's not wordplay I've grown cold on, Crane, but I'm not surprise you've misunderstood that as well.

[And as Chilton gaveth, he would taketh away.]

I'm hardly interested in discussing something on such a singular level, as if he was so singular.

[There was never invite to discussion in threats.]

[There is satisfaction in Chilton's defiance. He doesn't roll over; doesn't beg for a discussion. There is no surface inkling that Chilton wants this information for wealth. Though he doesn't search for knowledge, either.]

Then let's change the subject.

I really don't see how you cannot understand my feelings on this matter, speaking honestly. Your relationship with Hannibal Lecter has quite a strange parallel.

[Crane doesn't speak honestly in the open. His words are on more than a singular level. And there's that framework to try and make Chilton the patient, here. Fancy that.]

[This was the transformative subject change? To Hannibal Lecter? It was, undoubtedly, intended to dislodge Chilton's focus, his smugness, and Crane had the optimal advantage of knowing what expression of trauma Chilton embodied with regards to Hannibal Lecter. There was a quiet pause on Chilton's end -- he couldn't simply pull out of the conversation, no.

That would be granting Crane too much satisfaction.]

All right. [Compliance. Even under the framework of a patient role.] Why don't we discuss Hannibal Lecter, then? He had embodied something I wanted, something I found alluring, yes.

[Chilton wasn't above a little compromise, if the ends could justify it.]

[Compliance. Crane's relationship with it is deep and meaningful. He is above paying Chilton - anyone, really - a pat on the back. Compliments in his case are actions, not words. There's a quiet pause on his end, too - he sees what's going on here. He's compromised himself at times. Tolerating his PHD and medical work, till the opportunity to overtake his mentor had presented itself.

That sweet moment had been his creation.

And just as he understands the power of a compliment's effect on a weaker psyche, he'd found them irrelevant when directed at him. Personally speaking, of course.]

You wish to have his elegance, yes. His strength and his fury. [He's already figured that out. This is boring.] Do you feel your star burns dimmer, then? Or do you wish to make his collapse and implode?

[Crane is curious about those who stand firm and stare their fear in the face. And he creates situations to study them, too.]

Neither, really. Perhaps we're not as compatible, you and I, as you've previously considered. [A beat, and teasingly:] Or perhaps you struggle with empathy.

[He found that amusing, given the blatant nature of Crane's sadism. Empathy, remarkable and distilled, was clearly not a forte of the fellow.]

I never wanted to destroy Hannibal Lecter.

[Chilton's ego was particular: he could take a hit, coil, and strike back with renewed venom. It was a technique. Those who misunderstood him as weaker soon suffered for their ignorance.]

Perhaps you should ask Will Graham why that is.

[A disappointed sigh. A challenge, really. Crane was searching for aggression and seemed to be finding none.]

Perhaps I might. Or perhaps I might ask Abigail.

[Not so much a direct threat at Chilton, given the man's perchant for manipulation and domination. But the threat it posed him by affecting Graham was a different story, perhaps?]

I suppose I could ask Alana Bloom if fortune is kind enough to deliver her here. Maybe she'll turn up in a couple of months. I hope so. Don't you?

[His tone was saturated with his boredom.

He didn't struggle with empathy, really. He couldn't comprehend it; so there wasn't anything with which to struggle. There's a difference, for Crane, between understanding and empathy. Understanding is about gaining knowledge. Empathy is a set of feelings - a toolkit that he knows he's lacking.]

Edited 2015-06-28 21:37 (UTC)

It's a pity you've missed her the first time around.

[Chilton knew how the statistics split once someone had been ported outside their original universe; while Alana hadn't been in Heropa, she had been part of the world before, as had Chilton. This either amplified her probability, or minimized it relative to the average.

And Bloom had yet to venture back, so Chilton was confident about his odds.]

But I suppose it isn't the first thing you've missed.

[Crane doesn't consider himself to miss anything.

He skips over what is irrelevant to his agenda. And much as Chilton is confident about his odds, Crane knows to be patient. The one thing people underestimate about him is his resilience - to life events, yes, and internal manipulation. In fact, he feels like crowing a bit. His tone is nonchalant and utterly dismissive.]

Well. That is certainly a grevious blow, Frederick.

But I suppose I can entertain you a guess. Tell me, what is this thing you believe I miss?

[He knows what it is. He enjoys calling people's bluff. Put up or shut up, Chilters.

Ps. He's automatically decided you're wrong. There's no right or wrong choice, here.]

Do you honestly think I'm going to clarify your lapse in judgment? Or observation? I'm not some second rate costumed villain, Jonathan.

[The smirk in his voice is unbearable.]

If you can't figure it out, that's half the fun. Now -- did you have a real reason for speaking to me?

Yes. But if you can't figure it out...

[There's no emotion in his eyes, which one might expect him to show when insulted like this. The aggression was only Chilton's defence against the fear.]

Well. That's half the fun, isn't it?

[Crane doesn't even slip in any satisfaction as he leans forward and switches off the feed, taking control of how the conversation ends.]

Edited 2015-07-06 09:24 (UTC)

[At that Chilton smirks, smug in the wake of Crane's exit. His aggression wasn't born from fear -- what Crane had truly missed was that opportunity to inflict something with longevity, perhaps because he had been much too hasty in his delivery of medication. But the more the good chemist's diagnosis was in misstep, the more Chilton could revel in these triumphs.

If only Walt were as easy.]

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4. (LUCID DREAMING) (VIDEO)

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