Dr. Leland #35

Witnessing Victor Zsasz's enthusiastic charge, I couldn't help but sport a wider grin beneath my trusty gas mask. 'The crazier they are, the easier they are to manipulate,' I sighed inwardly, casually sidestepping his knife thrust and seizing his wrist with the finesse of a dance move. 

A deft yank brought him uncomfortably close, and with a twirl, I quickly introduced my left elbow to his face like we were old pals catching up.

As Zsasz staggered backward, dazed and confused, I took the opportunity to showcase my interpretative dance skills. Okay, not really, but I did plant my forehead right into his nose. It wasn't a waltz, but he did hit the floor. Tango with a lunatic, anyone?

Shaking off the spectacle, I sauntered over to the patient who had been caught up in the chaos, a careful tiptoe dance to avoid the scattered bodies. 'Poor bastards...' I sympathized internally, trying not to imagine redecorating my gas mask filters with an impromptu vomit session. 

My acting skills were MVP here, keeping a poker face when my insides were doing the cha-cha. But hey, no need to let the freak-out show.

I swiftly approached the trembling patient, his fear palpable as he attempted to retreat. "P-please don't hurt me..." he stammered, desperation etched across his face. 

Taking off my hood and gas mask, I reassured him, "I'm not here to hurt you. It's going to be okay. "Kneeling to meet his eye level, I inquired, "Are you injured? Can you stand up?" 

After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "I'm... I'll be fine," he replied, but his tough facade seemed paper-thin.

Eying me up and down, he cautiously inquired, "Are you... are you here to help?" Caught off guard by his hopeful tone, I found myself unable to admit my true intentions. 

I couldn't tell him I was here to harvest points and leave like this entire affair had nothing to do with me. Not with the face he was making right now. 

"Yes, I am. How can I help?" I offered with a reassuring nod, succumbing to his pleading gaze.

"Thank... thank God," he sighed in relief. "Dr. Joan... she's still in there. My friends and I wanted to distract Zsasz to get him away from her," he explained, his eyes flickering to the lifeless bodies around us with a pained expression. "But she's still in there," he added urgently.

Upon hearing his plea, a subtle frown found its way onto my face. "Dr. Joan? Who's she, and why did you all risk your lives for her?" I asked, my curiosity genuine.

The patient's response carried a hint of bitterness masked by admiration. "Dr. Joan Leland... she's a doctor here, one of the few who actually care about us crazy wretches," he explained, the complex emotions evident in his voice. "You've got to save her. Please!" he pleaded.

As he spoke, the name Joan Leland jogged a distant memory. "Tell me how she looks, and where can I find her?" I pressed, keen on connecting the dots. 

The patient eagerly supplied details, "Dark skin, black eyes, short hair... and she wears a lab coat. We left her in the infirmary. She should still be there; it's pretty secure," he added.

'So, it's that Joan Leland...' I mused, recognizing the name after hearing her physical description. 

"Don't worry; I'll head there and help her now," I assured him, rising to my feet and securing my gas mask. "In the meantime, find a safe spot to hide. The police will be here shortly," I advised, striding deeper into the west wing.

...

Walking down the dimly lit hallway, a sigh of relief escaped me at the sight of a door labeled "Infirmary" at the far end. The journey here had its moments, encounters with inmates ranging from the less dangerous residents of the west wing to the more perilous ones from higher-security areas. 

Handling them involved a fair amount of knocking out and restraining, coupled with some strategic redirections to the reception area, where they could patiently wait for Commissioner Gordon's team. 

Now, standing before the infirmary door, my hand reached out to open it, only to find it stubbornly locked.

"Dr. Leland? I'm here to help. Can you open the door?" I called out, pausing for a response that never came. Undeterred, I persisted, "Dr. Leland, I know you're in there. Let's not complicate things any further, please."

With silence as my only answer, I resigned to the inevitable. "I'm going to open the door now. If you're lurking with a sharp or blunt object, ready to whack me in the head, I strongly advise against it," I chuckled, abandoning my efforts to coax her into unlocking. 

Extending my hand toward the lock, I summoned the power of my shadow control, materializing a small shadow key. Guiding it into the lock, the shadowy construct deftly adapted to its shape.

Closing my eyes for focus, I began the delicate process of turning the key. It threatened to snap a couple of times, a fragile thing against the sturdy lock, but persistence won out, and with a soft click, the door yielded to my efforts.

Pushing the door open, I stepped into the infirmary. "Remember what I said about sharp or blunt obje--" I began, only to cut myself off as a vase hurtled toward my face the moment I entered. 

With a well-practiced maneuver, I ducked, allowing the projectile to soar over my head and shatter against the ground. Sighing, I barely had time to take a relieved breath before a stapler zipped in my direction. 

Dodging was futile as a barrage of office and medical supplies rained down on me – from a thick notebook to even rolls of medical gauze. Attempting to reason with the woman orchestrating this chaotic orchestra proved futile. 

I resigned myself to a dance of dodging until she exhausted her arsenal.

"Are you quite finished?" I asked, removing my gas mask to reveal my exasperation with her throwing antics. 

As she took in my unmasked face, the woman seemed to calm down. Dark-skinned, black-eyed, and short-haired, aligning perfectly with the patient's description, the woman gave me once-over and finally spoke, her frown evident. "Who are you?"

"My name's Micah. I'm here to help," I said, lifting my hands in a non-threatening gesture. "I stumbled onto one of your patients, managed to save him from Victor Zsasz, and he told me to find you here," I explained.

 Joan's calm expression shifted to bitterness upon hearing my words. "Just one? What about the others?" she asked, genuine concern lining her words.

"I'm sorry. I didn't get there in time to save everyone," I replied with a regretful shake of my head. Her response carried a tinge of sorrow.

"That is... unfortunate. Most of them would have been clear to leave the asylum in a couple of months," she lamented, her gaze dropping to the ground to conceal her expression.

I said nothing, giving her a moment to process the situation, but she only needed a couple of seconds. "You said you're here to help?" Joan's eyes snapped back to mine.

"I am, yes. Let me get you out of here and--" I began, but my words hung in the air as the doctor interrupted.

"I'm not going anywhere, not while my patients are still here," she asserted resolutely. "If you're here to help, then help them first," she urged firmly.

I gave her a firm nod. "Absolutely. I've managed to guide a few patients to safety and directed them to wait for the police at the reception area," I said, keeping her informed. "I'll systematically clear the west wing, but before that, we need to ensure you're out of harm's way. These people rely on you, and I can't just leave you stranded here," I explained, my commitment evident.

Dr. Leland took a thoughtful pause, her expression reflecting a mix of reluctance and acceptance. "I suppose you have a point. I'll go with you, but there's a task we must handle first," she said, a sense of urgency in her voice. "Arnold Wesker, one of my patients, is still in the west wing. I've made progress in his recovery, and he's on the verge of a complete rehabilitation," she revealed. 

"The chaos of the breakout might undo all my work, so I need to get him out of here as soon as possible," she added.

I furrowed my brow, connecting the dots. 'Arnold Wesker... that should be the Ventriloquist...' I pondered silently. 

After a moment, I looked at Dr. Leland and nodded decisively. "Alright, time is of the essence. Lead the way, and let's make this quick," I said, readjusting my gas mask. 

...

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