Another Workday

A weekend of sex with a beautiful woman puts a man in a good mood for work, even if I’d volunteered for a double shift (just to make sure I wasn’t lying to Asa). I went in early, despite that, to ‘socialize’ with the other guards.

And by socialize, I mean swap a few stories about my days as a cop and dig into the schedule for the prisoners, especially Harley. I wasn’t that subtle about it, didn’t need to be. Everyone knew she’d beaten the shit out of me. None of the guards gave me any shit about it, being beaten up by an inmate was a rite of passage at Arkham.

Harley was being punished. She was on lockdown except for her twice daily mandatory treatments with Dr. Young. Other than that, she got no visitors, meals were delivered three times a day, but through the slot in the door. That only really left one opportunity. Well, I guess, technically two.

Fortunately, being knocked **** gave me an excuse to be in medical. Not that her treatment was going to be in the guard’s treatment area, but it was nearby. Her sessions weren’t until later, so I had most of a shift to work.

But, I could stop by the canteen, and just briefly touch one of the platters and used What even is touch? I didn’t know who it was going to, odds weren’t good, but I could roll the dice on that a few times a day. Eventually I’d get lucky.

Well, I’d get lucky this weekend, but I might get lucky before that too.

I worked until lunch, rolled the dice again, then asked Francine about my idea for speeding up submission gain with inmates. I didn’t phrase it like that. Instead, I asked about reorganizing the place to actually put it in order. Looking up how they did it pre-computers meant I had a bunch of straightforward ideas, though trying to explain a card catalogue to the, visibly hung-over, Francine was funny, but not productive.

She totally missed my attempt to hint that some of the books might be valuable and no one even knew what was in there. Either she wasn’t dirty, or she wasn’t subtle, or both. Or the hangover may have made her miss it.

She just waved me off with ‘new projects need permission from the Director.’ I wasn’t going to go bug the Director with this. Not without some support. Or an appointment…or a written proposal.

I pitched Dr. Young while I was getting my head checked out. Again, corruption got no bites, but there was a bit of attention when I mentioned some of the older books. There were some old notebooks that might have been original to the construction of Arkham, and there were what looked like some first editions of psychological books, though I had no idea how valuable they were, I recognized names and fancy leather bindings.

But she was eager to get me out of the way so she could meet with Harley. So I got out of the way and ‘accidentally ran into Harley and the four guards escorting the strait-jacketed crazy. They actually stood in a perimeter, each holding a chain connected to her strait-jacket, which might keep her in position, or might not, given her strength.

As I considered how to interact with her, she instead perked up, looking at me. “Charlie! My favorite guard! How ya doing?”

“My head hurts. Because someone punched me in it.”

“Yeah, sorry about that, but Mr. J needed to get out. But it was real cool of ya to let me hit the alarm.”

I blinked as my entire plan became unnecessary. And I wouldn’t even get any fucking points for it, because I hadn’t given her that order. Goddammit!

I mean…yay! Stupid perk broken, right? Probably, I’d find out…after the end of my double shit. Stupid fucking universe.

The other guards were looking at me, I shrugged. “Well, I’ll forgive you if next time you give me a chance to surrender. Conscious hostages are better right?”

“Only sometimes, but sure thing, you were real nice, I’ll give you a chance, Charlie.”

“Why do you call me Charlie?”

“It’s your name, silly!”

“My name is Eli,” okay, telling the crazy murderer my real name wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done.

She shook her head. “No, Charlie, it ain’t. Now run along, I’m late for my electroshock and you wouldn’t like me when I’m angry,” her voice dropped to mimic some old TV show.

“Yeah, Charlie, move along,” one of the other guards said, almost laughing at my attempt to bring the crazy lady back to earth.

I headed back to the library. Finished up my shift, then started the second one. Rolled the dice again at dinner, then came back to find Director Sinner standing in the library, glaring about like someone had robbed her.