#hugo strange

It’s been a while but I thought I’ll post drawings made for TheGame,written and GMed by @thesoullessfuck. The whole thing was a lot of fun~

I’ve never liked Hugo Strange but when Riley Rossmo draws him I’m all in.

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Roy G. Bivolo, alias the Rainbow Raider. Patient displays noticeable low self-esteem, but since he only arrived at Arkham Asylum a few days ago, I have not had time to give him a full psychological evaluation. Session One. Hello, Mr. Bivolo. How are you? 

Rainbow Raider: Confused. Why am I in an insane asylum? I am not insane. I am an artist! It isn’t my fault that no one appreciates my talents! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Bivolo, you were not sent to Arkham Asylum because of your mental state. You were sent here because Iron Heights Penitentiary is currently incapable of housing inmates, and, through a series of baffling bureaucratic and judicial decisions, all of Iron Heights’ costumed criminals were sent here. 

Rainbow Raider: Oh. (Pause) Well, that makes me feel better. I have had more than my fill of people discounting my artistic talents. 

Hugo Strange: So, Mr. Bivolo, why did you take to costumed crime? Your records suggest that your family was quite well-off, and you have a college degree in fine arts. 

Rainbow Raider: Why? Why? I’ll tell you why, Doctor! (Pause) As a boy, I was an artistic prodigy! I had the talent to be the next Michelangelo, the next Picasso, the next Frieda Kahlo! 

Hugo Strange: I’ve seen your work, Mr. Bivolo, and I would be inclined to agree with you. A few of your pieces were included in your files, and they belong in a museum. 

Rainbow Raider: (Upset) Don’t mock me, Doctor! (Pause) I know all too well that I will never be a true artist…for I was born under a curse! While the untalented multitudes have the ability to see the full range of color, I was born colorblind! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Bivolo, colorblindness is a very common condition. 

Rainbow Raider: I am not speaking of red-green colorblindness, Doctor. I am speaking of true color blindness; seeing the world entirely in greyscale! I was born with complete achromatopsia!

Hugo Strange: Is that why…

Rainbow Raider: Yes, Doctor, that is why I am wearing these sunglasses. In addition to my total inability to see the wonders of color, I am also extremely sensitive to light. (Pause) And legally blind. 

Hugo Strange: Do you mean to tell me that you created all of the art in your files while legally blind? 

Rainbow Raider: Yes. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Bivolo, if you are able to create such astonishing art whilst suffering from a severe eye condition, I cannot imagine why you believe that you will never be a true artist. Your work is incredible. 

Rainbow Raider: (Angry) Stop making fun of me! I know that I am a failure as an artist! You don’t have to mock me for it! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Bivolo, I am not making fun of you. I am praising your talent. 

Rainbow Raider: But…but you can’t think I’m talented! The art critics of Central City told me a long time ago that I would never be an artist, and certainly they couldn’t have been wrong! 

Hugo Strange: What on Earth could have prompted an art critic to say something like that? Granted, I am not an art expert, but even I can tell that you are immensely talented. 

Rainbow Raider: Doctor, I cannot distinguish between colors! How can I be a true artist if I can’t use color? 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Bivolo, there is such a thing as black-and-white art. 

Rainbow Raider: I know there is…but…but I certainly couldn’t produce any that was good enough. (Pause) Not only am I colorblind, but I’m so nearsighted I’m legally blind in general. And blind people…blind people can’t make good art. 

Hugo Strange: What? Who told you that? 

Rainbow Raider: Well, nobody’s  directly said it, but I can see it in the way that people react when they learn that I’ve got achromatopsia. When my classmates learned, they started making fun of me. When my teachers learned, they stopped pushing me. And when dealers learn about my condition, they usually refuse to look at my work out-of-hand. As long as I’m colorblind, I’ll never be good enough to be a real artist. (Pause) And it’s not fair! There are so many artists who don’t have half my talent who get money and fame, and I can’t even sell one painting because of my condition! 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Bivolo, there are a number of blind artists. Keith Salmon, John Bramblitt, Ersef Armagan…even Claude Monet suffered from vision problems later in his artistic career. Your issue is not your condition. Your issue is your lack of confidence in yourself. You have allowed the prejudices and cruel comments of the people around you to convince you that you will never be a true artist unless you fit their preconceived ideas of what an artist should be. If you realize that your talent is not dependent on your ability to see normally, you will realize what I already do: the fact that you are an astonishingly talented artist. 

Rainbow Raider: You…you really think so? 

Hugo Strange: I do. (Pause) So again, why costumed crime? 

Rainbow Raider: I wanted to get revenge on all those hacks who became famous instead of me. (Pause) And on all those talentless people who got to enjoy the full beauty of priceless works of art when it was denied to me, a true artist! 

Hugo Strange: But I thought you believed that your achromatopsia meant that you could never be a true artist. 

Rainbow Raider: I did. I wanted revenge on them for the fact that they had been able to become famous only through my ill-fortune. They weren’t as talented as me, and yet, due to a cruel twist of fate, they became famous while I languished in obscurity! 

Hugo Strange: I…see. (Pause) You have quite an impressive array of powers, Mr. Bivolo. According to your files, the special goggles you wear allow you to perform all kinds of feats, including riding on rainbows and altering people’s emotions. 

Rainbow Raider: That’s right. They were a gift from my optometrist father before he passed away. 

Hugo Strange: If you have such power, Mr. Bivolo, why did you limit yourself to such relatively petty crimes? Why not use your powers to try to take over the world? (Pause) And why did you never try to sell any of the paintings you stole? Most of them are worth a fortune

Rainbow Raider: Because I don’t care about sordid things like power or money. I am driven by a higher and nobler motivation: art appreciation! 

Hugo Strange: And revenge? 

Rainbow Raider: And revenge. 

Hugo Strange: Interesting. (Pause) Mr. Bivolo, your files state that you are usually a solo operative. Do you ever interact with your city’s other costumed criminals? 

Rainbow Raider: Not often. Most of them are philistines who don’t have the least appreciation for art, and many of them are too violent for my tastes. No matter how angry I may be at the art world…I don’t want anyone to die. (Pause) Also, most of them think I’m a pathetic loser. It’s so unfair! I’m way more powerful than Heat Wave or Captain Boomerang! 

Hugo Strange: Is there anyone that you do get along with, Mr. Bivolo?

Rainbow Raider: Dr. Alchemy. The original, that is, not the redheaded gremlin. 

Hugo Strange: You are friends with Dr. Alchemy? The alter of the unfortunate Dr. Desmond? 

Rainbow Raider: Yes. He’s a little spooky, but he’s a true lover of culture, and we’ve had some really stirring conversations about both literary and artistic masterpieces. 

Hugo Strange: Are you friends with Dr. Desmond or Mr. Element?
Rainbow Raider: No. Just Dr. Alchemy. Dr. Desmond’s all right, but he’s a bit boring and unimaginative. And I’d be more than happy if Mr. Element never appeared again. He makes fun of me, just like everyone else. 

Hugo Strange: You are friends with Dr. Alchemy? 

Rainbow Raider: Yes. I already said that. 

Hugo Strange: He…doesn’t strike me as the sort to make friends. 

Rainbow Raider: He’s not. I’m his only friend. (Pause) Just like he’s-*sigh*- my only friend. 

Hugo Strange: What do you do with the rest of your time? (Pause) When you aren’t robbing museums, that is? 

Rainbow Raider: I draw. Or paint. Or sculpt. (Pause) Creativity is in my very blood, doctor. 

Hugo Strange: I would agree. And because of that, I think that it might be helpful to you if you used your art as a form of therapy.

Rainbow Raider: What do you mean, doctor? 

Hugo Strange: Art is, among other things, a way of expressing one’s feelings and emotions. If you want to be able to recover from your insecurities, anger, and self-doubt, one of the best ways for you to do it would be to put those feelings into your artwork itself. Once you do, you will not only be a healthier person but a better artist as well.

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Joey Monteleone, also known as Tar Pit. Patient displays noticeable feelings of insecurity and inferiority, and the psychological and intelligence tests we gave him upon his admittance to the Asylum indicate that he may have a mild intellectual disability. Session One. So, Joey, how are you feeling today? 

Tar Pit: I’m doin’ okay, Doc. (Pause) In fact, I’m kinda hoping I’ll be able to stay here awhile. I don’t much like Iron Heights. 

Hugo Strange: Given what I have heard about the way in which Warden Wolfe runs his penitentiary, I am not at all surprised that you have no particular fondness for Iron Heights. 

Tar Pit: You got it wrong, Doc. I don’t mind Warden Wolfe. I mean, I’m a tar monster. He can’t exactly hurt me. (Pause) What I don’t like about Iron Heights is the fact that it’s full of my big bro’s thugs. I spent years being pushed around and bossed around by Jack and his guys, and I’m so sick of it. You’d think that me being a giant flaming tar monster would finally get me some respect from him, but nope. He’s still just tryin’ to use me as a puppet for his gang. 

Hugo Strange: So you are not a part of your family’s drug empire, then? 

Tar Pit: Nope. I might’ve grown up in a penthouse, but a lot of my friends were from Skid Row, and they told me all about the way my big bro’s thugs tore their neighborhood apart. Between the dealin’ and the gang wars, they made livin’ on Morrow and Baker Street even more miserable than it already would’ve been. I didn’t want to have anythin’ to do with my family business after I learned about that. 

Hugo Strange: Your brother was already running the Monteleone drug empire when you were a child? 

Tar Pit: Doc, he’s been runnin’ the Monteleone drug empire since before I was born. My old man made Jack his partner in running the drug empire the second Jack turned eighteen, and I wasn’t born until he turned twenty-six.

Hugo Strange: That’s quite an age gap. 

Tar Pit: Yeah, it is. (Pause) Part of it is that we’re only half-brothers. Jack was the son of my old man’s first wife; I’m the son of his favorite mistress. Two years after I was born, Jack’s mom died in a car crash and the old man took my mom as his second wife. That’s when I moved into the penthouse with him and Jack. (Pause) Jack hated both of us. He was way closer to his mom than to our old man, and he said that the old man had gotten her killed so that he could move on to a younger woman. 

Hugo Strange: Do you believe that there was any truth to that allegation? 

Tar Pit: Could be. Our old man was a real piece of work. He had loads of people killed; I’d believe that he’d kill his wife. I mean, he basically killed his second wife. 

Hugo Strange: Your mother? 

Tar Pit: Uh-huh. By the time I was eight, both she and the old man had gotten hooked on the same cocaine that they were sellin’. (Pause)  Mom died of an overdose when I was fifteen, and the old man died of a heart attack three years later. 

Hugo Strange: That must have been a very traumatic experience for you, Joey. 

Tar Pit: Mom’s death was. I could’ve cared less about the old man kicking the bucket. Like I said, he was a real piece of work. (Pause) After they were both dead and buried, Jack tried to get me involved in the drug empire as one of his goons. I said no way was I gonna help make him rich, and so he gave me a couple thousand dollars and a crappy apartment and left me all alone. I’d dropped outta high school when my mom died, so I spent a couple ‘a’ months doing odd jobs before some of my pals talked me into helpin’ ‘em rob a convenience store. I got arrested and sent to Iron Heights, an’ while I was there, I learned about my awesome metahuman power. 

Hugo Strange: Which was? 

Tar Pit: Oh, I can astrally project my mind into stuff an’ make it come to life. (Pause) Used my powers to go on all sortsa joyrides. It was sweet! 

Hugo Strange: And then your mind became stuck in a vat of tar? 

Tar Pit: Yep. 

Hugo Strange: I assume that becoming a tar creature was incredibly distressing for you. 

Tar Pit: Distressing? Are you kidding, dude? Bein’ a giant flaming tar monster is awesome! 

Hugo Strange: (Taken aback) It is? 

Tar Pit: Yeah! I can chuck balls of fire at people and I’m super strong and can’t be hurt! It’s the best! 

Hugo Strange: And you aren’t concerned about the fact that your touch burns almost everything that you touch? 

Tar Pit: Well, that part’s kind of a bummer…but I get to fight the Flash and be on TV! I’m famous, and people don’t think of me as the Candy Man’s kid brother no more! That totally makes up for not bein’ able to touch stuff! (Pause) Besides, it ain’t like I need to eat anymore. 

Hugo Strange: Don’t you have any concerns about how being trapped in the form of a giant flaming tar monster will affect your social relationships? 

Tar Pit: Not really. I still got friends. (Pause) Well, a friend, anyhow. Axel an’ I are tight, man. 

Hugo Strange: Axel? Is in Axel Walker, the second Trickster? 

Tar Pit: That’s the one! He’s an awesome little dude, and  loads of fun to have around. (Pause) Even if he does look like he still hasn’t hit puberty. 

Hugo Strange: What about romance? Are you not concerned that your appearance will affect your chances of getting a date? 

Tar Pit: Naw. (Pause) To be honest, I ain’t really all that interesting in datin’. I seen what love does to people. My mom loved my old man, an’ it ruined her life. (Pause) Besides, who needs girls? Bein’ a giant flaming tar monster is so much better than having dates! Anybody can have a date, but only I can be a tar monster! 

Hugo Strange: And you aren’t at all worried about the fact that becoming a tar monster means that you may never be able to live a normal life? 

Tar Pit: I never had a normal life to begin with, Doc. And between my life before I became Tar Pit and my life after, I’ll take bein’ a giant tar creature everyone besides Jack’s too scared to mess with over bein’ some thug with a gun any day of the week. 

Hugo Strange: So you see your tar form as a defense against being hurt? 

(Pause) 

Tar Pit: I guess so, yeah. (Pause) But even without the protection it gives me, bein’ a tar monster is totally rad! I love bein’ a tar monster! 

Hugo Strange: Well, I suppose that, since the transformation is likely permanent, it’s just as well that you enjoy your new form. (Pause) So, given your impressive strength and power as a tar creature, why do you limit yourself to petty thievery rather than to anything more impressive? 

Tar Pit: Well, I ain’t exactly a criminal mastermind or nothin’. Might as well stick to the stuff I know I’m good at. (Pause) That, an’ if I stick to the small time, I’m less likely to attract the attention of big bro and his goon squad. Bad enough I gotta deal with ‘em in prison. I don’t wanna have to deal with ‘em on the street, too. 

Hugo Strange: But with your powers, are you not more powerful than your brother? While I certainly don’t recommend murder, if you hate him as much as you say you do, why have you not used your powers to force him to leave you alone? 

Tar Pit: Jack’s too smart for that. Not only is he a millionaire with a ton of bodyguards, but he’s got a million backup plans for everything that could go wrong. There’s no way I could get close enough to off him. (Pause) And even if I did, his role’d just get filled by another one of our creep relatives, and I’d be back to square one, but with somebody who’d be even more likely to try an’ have me killed. 

Hugo Strange: So, in spite of all your power, you still fear your older brother? 

Tar Pit: Everybody in the underworld fears the Candy Man, Doc. When Blacksmith’s Network collapsed, he became the most powerful guy in the Twin Cities. Only a moron with a death wish would cross him. (Pause) The only time anyone’s gotten away with it was when Captain Cold and the Top decided to team up against him. And you know how powerful they are. 

Hugo Strange: Captain Cold and the Top? 

Tar Pit: Yeah. You see, a couple years back, my big bro took this guy who called himself Chillblaine onto his payroll as a bodyguard, and, as it turned out, this Chillblaine dude had attacked the Golden Glider and put her into a coma. So Captain Cold and the Top turned up at my bro’s place and demanded that Jack hand the guy over if he didn’t want to have his place destroyed. And Jack actually gave them what they wanted. Needless to say, that was the last anybody heard of that Chillblaine guy. (Pause) The only thing stupider than crossing the Candy Man is attacking the lady who’s not only Captain Cold’s baby sister but also the girlfriend of a freaky telekinetic lunatic. I ain’t exactly a genius, but that Chillblaine dude was too stupid to live. 

Hugo Strange: I see. (Pause) Have you or your brother had any other interactions with Captain Cold and his so-called “Rogues”? 

Tar Pit: Well, Axel’s a Rogue, and I hang out with him plenty…but beyond that, I don’t spend too much time with ‘em. Captain Cold says that I make Heat Wave’s pyromania worse and that he doesn’t want me destroying his hideouts. (Pause) And Jack and the Rogues mostly hate each other. Captain Cold doesn’t want Jack sellin’ any drugs on his turf, and Jack can’t stand that his control of the underworld is being challenged by the son of some low-level hired gun.

Hugo Strange: What do you mean? 

Tar Pit: I mean that Captain Cold’s old man was one of the cops who was on our old man’s payroll back in the day. He was a real small-time player, and the idea that his trailer trash son is challenging the Monteleone crime family makes Jack’s blood boil. (Pause) It also don’t help much that he’s the one who’s supplying the Scottish Mirror Master with cocaine. Captain Cold doesn’t want his guys doin’ drugs. 

Hugo Strange: So there is no love lost between your brother and the Rogues. 

Tar Pit: Pretty much, yeah. Me? I just stay out of it. I got a good thing goin’ here, and I don’t wanna mess it up by gettin’ caught in the middle of a gang war between Jack and the Rogues.

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Owen Mercer, also known as Captain Boomerang, Jr. As that name perhaps implies, he is the son of George Harkness, the original Captain Boomerang. The patient has had a tumultuous home life and obviously has severe abandonment issues, but I have not yet had the time to give him a complete psychological assessment, since he only recently arrived here from Belle Reve Pentientiary.  Session One. How are you today, Owen? 

Owen: I guess I’m doing all right. How are you, Doc? 

Hugo Strange: I am doing very well. Thank you, Owen. (Pause) Young man, your files say that you first met your biological father about a year ago. Is that correct? 

Owen: That’s right, sir. Before that, I’d never met either one of my biological parents. 

Hugo Strange: And what did you think when you learned that your biological father was a costumed criminal? 

Owen: That’s kind of a funny story, actually. I would’ve thought that I would be upset to learn that my dad is a costumed criminal who wears a weird boomerang-print stewardess outfit and calls himself “Captain Boomerang”, but when I actually did learn who he was when I met him, I wasn’t disappointed at all. (Pause) I guess I’m just glad to finally have a dad. 

Hugo Strange: Given your history of being bounced from foster home to foster home, that’s perfectly understandable. (Pause) How did your father react to meeting you for the first time? 

Owen: He was surprised at first, but after that, he seemed really pleased. He told me that he was glad that he was getting to meet the kid he’d given up for adoption and that he’d always kind of wondered what had happened to me. 

Hugo Strange: To be perfectly candid, Owen, if I had not heard your father speak so fondly of you during my interview with him, I would not have believed him capable of concern even for his own son. Why do you think he displays so much concern for you when he so consistently fails to show even basic human decency to anyone else? 

Owen: I’m not really sure. (Pause) Maybe it’s because I remind him of my mother, whoever she was. When we first met, he said that I had her face, and that he was glad that I’d gotten my looks from her side of the family instead of his. 

Hugo Strange: So you don’t know the identity of your biological mother? 

Owen: No, I don’t. 

Hugo Strange: Doesn’t your father know who she was? Why hasn’t he told you? 

Owen: Because he…um…actually doesn’t know. Apparently his memories of his time with her are really fuzzy. All he does remember is that she was, quote, “a beautiful sheila”, and that she was the first person who ever made him feel like he could be “something other than a bogan”. 

Hugo Strange: Well, given your father’s extensive history of alcoholism, it is not terribly surprising that many of his memories would be hazy. (Pause) Perhaps the reason he does not remember the identity of your mother is because he was drunk when you were conceived .

Owen: I…I actually don’t think that’s it. (Pause) Don’t get me wrong, Dad does have a lot of gaps in his memory that are from him drinking, but this is a solid ten-month period of his life that he only vaguely remembers. Even he couldn’t have gotten that drunk. 

Hugo Strange: I concede that it is unlikely that even Mr. Harkness could have been blackout drunk for ten straight months. (Pause) Perhaps some sort of head trauma? 

Owen: Could be. Dad has had four concussions. (Pause) Which also might explain his story behind why he doesn’t remember much about his time with my mother. 

Hugo Strange: What does your father blame for his memory loss? 

Owen: Time travel. 

Hugo Strange: A few months ago, I would have said that the idea of time travel was patently absurd. (Pause) But after having conducted therapy sessions with a talking gorilla, a man who is over two hundred years old, a man who claims to be someone else’s astral twin, a ghost that has taken over and reanimated a corpse, and two different men who claim to be time travelers from different eras, I am afraid that I will not be able to simply dismiss that claim out of hand, no matter how much I might want to do so. Does your father have any idea as to what time period he may have been sent to? 

Owen: He says he’s pretty sure that it was sometime in the future, since he has a vague recollection of people with flying cars and weird jumpsuits, but he doesn’t know much of anything beyond that. (Pause) What’s really weird is that he says he’s time traveled two other times since then. The first time, he was sent to the 17th century and had to team up with the Flash to fight pirates, and the second time he went to the future, where he and the other Rogues helped the Flash to fight Abra Kadabra. He thinks that maybe it was just the shock of the initial round of time traveling that caused him to lose his memory. 

Hugo Strange: That…could be, I suppose. (Pause; hoping to stop talking about time travel) But regardless of why he does not remember your mother’s identity, you believe that his fondness for her is part of why he treats you so well? 

Owen: Yeah. (Pause) That, and I think he likes having someone to teach how to throw boomerangs. 

Hugo Strange: And do you enjoy learning how to throw boomerangs, Owen? 

Owen: I do. It’s a lot of fun, and Dad says I’m a natural. It probably helps that I played a lot of baseball as a kid. (Pause) Of course, my throwing arm’s still got nothing on his. You should see the stunts he can pull off! 

Hugo Strange: Yes, your father’s files go into extensive detail about his skills as a marksman. For all of his many, many failings and character flaws, it is undeniable that your father is highly skilled in his art. 

Owen: To be honest…it’s kind of cool to be the son of the most skilled boomerang thrower in the world. Cooler than being the foster kid who’ll never be adopted, anyhow. (Pause) It wasn’t even that people thought I was going to be a troublemaker or anything. I was just shy, so I got overlooked until I was too old to be cute. Nobody wants to adopt a teenager. 

Hugo Strange: How many foster homes have you been in, Owen? 

Owen: Fourteen, I think. The longest I stayed with any of them was two years. As soon as I would get settled in somewhere, something would happen and I would end up getting sent somewhere else. All of my foster parents were nice, but since I was never with any of them for very long, it wasn’t the same as being raised by actual parents. 

Hugo Strange: That must have been difficult for you, Owen.  

Owen: Like I said, it wasn’t really that bad. I never went hungry and nobody ever hit me or anything like that. I was just that every time I started getting attached to anyone, I would get uprooted again. 

Hugo Strange: Is that why you were so eager to spend time with your biological father even after finding out that he was Captain Boomerang? 

Owen: Probably, yeah. (Pause) I know he’s not really a good person, but…he’s my father. I finally have a father, and I…I don’t want to give that up. 

Hugo Strange: Even if it means putting on a costume, taking up the Captain Boomerang mantle, and becoming a criminal? 

Owen: But I didn’t become a criminal! When I became Captain Boomerang, Jr., I did it to take my dad’s place on the Suicide Squad. He’s getting too old to keep surviving the missions Mrs. Waller gives Task Force X, so I offered to take his place in the field. Mrs. Waller refused at first, since I’m not nearly as experienced as my dad, but then I told her that I was a metahuman. 

Hugo Strange: Given your metahuman power dampener, I assumed as much. What are your abilities? 

Owen: I can throw things at super-speed, mainly. And if I really push myself, I can sprint at super-speed for a few seconds, too. 

Hugo Strange: And because of this power, Mrs. Waller agreed to let you take your father’s place? 

Owen: Yes. (Pause) It’s why Dad was sent here instead of to Belle Reve when Iron Heights was destroyed.

Hugo Strange: Are you telling me that you, a nineteen-year-old boy, willingly signed up to join a black ops team full of hardened killers for the sake of Digger Harkness? 

Owen: I had to. He’s my dad. (Pause) Mrs. Waller sent me here to get psychologically cleared for going on missions. As soon as you do, I’ll be leaving. 

Hugo Strange: Owen, I’m afraid that I will not be able to clear you.

Owen: What do you mean? 

Hugo Strange: I mean that Task Force X is no place for a nineteen-year-old, especially one as lonely and vulnerable as you are. You are, thankfully, not your father; you are not as hard and cold as he is. The missions you’d be sent on as a part of Task Force X would destroy you psychologically. I cannot in good conscience clear you for service with them. 

Owen: But you have to! If you don’t, they’ll take my dad instead. I just found him! I…I don’t want to lose him! 

Hugo Strange: I understand your concern, Owen, but the fact of the matter is that, while your father may be getting older, he is still far more likely to survive a mission with Task Force X than you are. You lack the ruthlessness and cunning that he has in spades, and, as a result, your chances of making it out alive are slim. (Pause) However, I promise you that I will do my level best to protect your father from Mrs. Waller. While we may be allied on the issue of costumed vigilantes, I disagree with many of her policies, and Task Force X is one of them. 

Owen: Well, if you aren’t going to clear me for Task Force X, what are you going to do with me? 

Hugo Strange: (flips through Owen’s files) I am going to send Mrs. Waller a letter stating that you are not fit for service, and then I am going to release you from Arkham Asylum. Since your files corroborate your claim that you are not a criminal, there is no reason for me to keep you here. (Pause) That being said, I would recommend that you seek out some form of outpatient counseling. You are clearly a lonely young man in terrible need of stability and companionship. 

Owen: And you’re gonna keep my dad off the Suicide Squad, right? 

Hugo Strange: As I said, Owen, I will do everything in my power to keep your father from coming to harm. 

Owen: Thanks, Doc! Thanks so much! 

Hugo Strange: It was nothing, Owen. (Pause) Before I end this session, I would like to make one more suggestion. 

Owen: What’s that? 

Hugo Strange: Before you leave Gotham, look up a Dr. Leslie Thompkins. She knows a lot about helping young men who grew up without their fathers, and I believe that meeting with her would be of great help to you.

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Amunet Black, also known as Blacksmith. Patient suffers from Antisocial Personality Disorder. Session One. How are you, Ms. Black? 

Blacksmith: I’ve been better. For fifteen years, I was one of the most influential businesspeople in the Twin Cities, legitimate or otherwise. I made millions of dollars and came within a hair’s breadth of taking complete control of the entire city. (Pause) And now I’m an inmate of an insane asylum. Which is odd, since I am most certainly not insane. 

Hugo Strange: You are not here because of your mental health, Ms. Black. You are here because Iron Heights Penitentiary is currently incapable of housing inmates, and, through a series of idiotic bureaucratic and judicial decisions, it was decided that all of its costumed criminals should be sent to Arkham until such time as Iron Heights is rebuilt.

Blacksmith: Hmmph. If I were still in power in the Twin Cities, that never would have happened. The Twin Cities can call me a supervillain all they like. I was the one who kept order in both cities. It was because of me that the trains ran on time. And it was my organization of the criminal underworld that kept Keystone economically afloat after the collapse of the automobile industry. 

Hugo Strange: Are you referring to your involvement in the underground black market known as the Network? 

Blacksmith: Of course. But as important as the Network was, it composed only a fraction of the investments I had in the Twin Cities. I owned stock in almost all of the Twin Cities’ important businesses, and I had connections in the police department and city hall as well. I was a very powerful woman, Dr. Strange.

Hugo Strange: Your record makes that much obvious, Ms. Black. (Pause) So why risk all that power in a gamble to conquer the city as a costumed supervillain? 

Blacksmith: I was already running the city in all but name. Why not try to make it official? (Pause) I certainly would’ve done a better job than the idiots who are currently in charge. 

Hugo Strange: So you were motivated by a desire for fame and yet more power. 

Blacksmith: Yes. I was the most intelligent, most decisive, and most effective player in the Twin Cities. I deserved to be acknowledged as such, and the Twin Cities would have become a far more profitable business venture if I had been placed at their helm. I am more than competent enough to rule. 

Hugo Strange: What about democracy and the will of the people? 

Blacksmith: Mere words. (Pause) Most people are like sheep, Dr. Strange. They want comfort and certainty and the knowledge that they are being guided by someone more intelligent and powerful than they are. Talk all you want about freedom. That isn’t what people really want. Give them security, and they’ll sacrifice their freedoms in a heartbeat. 

Hugo Strange: But the people of the Twin Cities did not do that, did they? Both Central City and Keystone City joined forces to drive you out of power and have you punished for your attempt to take over their cities without their consent. 

Blacksmith: The common people are fools. They don’t realize what they really want. If it hadn’t been for the interference of the Flash, they would have come to terms with my rule eventually. 

Hugo Strange: Why? Because you would have terrified them into submission? 

Blacksmith: If need be. I was born to rule, Dr. Strange. If that means that I have to use force to maintain my power, so be it. 

Hugo Strange: Well, that certainly explains the number of assassinations that you’re associated with, Ms. Black. (Pause) You are a killer and a tyrant, and it is for the good of the Twin Cities that your efforts to take control of them failed. 

Blacksmith: What of Napoleon and Caesar and Alexander the Great? Genghis Khan and Attila the Hun? They were murders and tyrants, and yet they changed the course of history. Why should I be any different? 

Hugo Strange: You are not different from them, Ms. Black. Just like them, your empire influenced history, and just like theirs, it fell, never to be rebuilt. Tyrants may change the course of history, but in the end, there is always someone who replaces them. 

Blacksmith: Who? Who will replace me? The Flashes? Those high-minded fools refuse to use their power to influence politics at all! The Candyman? Handsome Jack Giacomo? Both of them are too petty; more focused on infighting than on building an underworld whose profits can buoy the Twin Cities. Without me, the underworld will fall into chaos, and Keystone’s industry will fall with it. 

Hugo Strange: I was under the impression that Mr. Snart was the current ruler of Keystone’s underworld, Ms. Black. 

Blacksmith: Captain Cold? (Pause) Don’t make me laugh, doctor. For all his power, he’s a soft touch, and everyone who matters knows it. Oh, he thinks he’s a big name, and he can certainly spook the low-level thugs, but in the end, the only people who care about him and his quaint little code are the pathetic crew of misfits he’s gathered around him. (Pause) It’s a pity, really. Under better direction, some of the Rogues could be a true force to be reckoned with. They have enough power to conquer the globe! And yet they squander their potential playing cops and robbers with the Flash and following the orders of a stupid hick who can barely read! 

Hugo Strange: I take it you aren’t especially fond of Mr. Snart? 

Blacksmith: I am indifferent to him. As long as he and his collection of strays stay out of my way, I have much more important things to worry about. 

Hugo Strange: I see. (Pause) I understand that you are a metahuman, Ms. Black. 

Blacksmith: That is correct. I possess the power to fuse metal with flesh…a power that has become all the more important to me now that my economic and political power have been stripped away. 

Hugo Strange: Losing so much of your life must have been difficult, Ms. Black. 

Blacksmith: It was…but the humiliation I endured has only made me more determined to reclaim my control over the Twin Cities. One day, I will take back everything the Flash took from me and more. 

Hugo Strange: I doubt that, Ms. Black. 

Blacksmith: Oh, really? Thanks to your efforts to remove costumed heroes from the scene, who do you think will be around to stop me once I escape to reclaim my former glory? 

Hugo Strange: The people, Ms. Black. No matter how powerful a tyrant you are, eventually, the good people of the Twin Cities will unite to take their power back. The Twin Cities do not belong to you, or Mr. Snart, or the resident costumed vigilantes, Ms. Black. They belong to the people, and they always will. 

Blacksmith: You underestimate my power, Dr. Strange. 

Hugo Strange: No, Ms. Black. I have dealt with many a power-hungry criminal before, and I assure you of this: you are never as powerful as you think you are.

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Axel Walker, also known as the Trickster. (Pause) And yes, there are two Tricksters as well. This is the younger one, who spells his name with an “x”. Patient suffers from Conduct Disorder. Session One. Hello, Axel.

Trixster: Yo, Doc, what am I doing in the nuthouse? I’m not crazy. 

Hugo Strange: To be honest, I am afraid that I am not sure what you are doing here, either. Regardless of your mental health, this is an institution for adults, and you are a minor. (Pause) If it transpires that your presence here is entirely because you are a costumed criminal, 

Trixster: (Indignant) I’m not a little kid, Doc! I’m almost sixteen! That’s old enough to be tried as an adult. 

Hugo Strange: But were you tried as an adult? 

Trixster: (Reluctantly) No. (Pause) They considered it, ‘cause of the costume, but eventually they decided that I was too small for it to be safe for me to be sent to adult prison. (Pause) Being 5’2” sucks. If I don’t hit my growth spurt soon, I’m gonna lose my mind. It’s so hard to pick up babes when most of ‘em are taller than you are. 

Hugo Strange: You sound almost disappointed that you weren’t tried as an adult. 

Trixster: ‘Cause I was disappointed! You got any idea how hard it is to get street cred as a supervillain when the courts try you as a kid? 

Hugo Strange: Axel, an adult penal facility would be incredibly dangerous for a boy of your age and size. If the courts had tried you as an adult, I dread to think of what might have happened to you. 

Trixster: (Annoyed) I can take care of myself, Doc! I’d be fine! 

Hugo Strange: Against several grown men with a foot or more of height and a hundred pounds on you? I am highly skeptical of that claim, Axel — especially since your file makes it quite clear that you have no metahuman powers. 

Trixster: Who says anyone would be stupid enough to attack me anyhow? Nobody’s gonna mess with Captain Cold. 

Hugo Strange: I fail to see what Mr. Snart’s reputation has to do with your likelihood of being attacked in an adult penal facility, Axel. 

Trixster: ‘Cause I’m a Rogue! Duh! 

Hugo Strange: (Skeptical) You are a Rogue? 

Trixster: You bet I am! 

Hugo Strange: Are you implying that the Rogues, a group of incredibly powerful costumed criminals, all of whom are at least ten years your senior, allowed a powerless juvenile delinquent into their group? 

Trixster: I’m not powerless! I got loads of tricks up my sleeves! Itching powder, weaponized slinkies, exploding bubble gum, the joybuzzers, my t-bombs, the Airwalkers….

Hugo Strange: You have Airwalker shoes? I was under the impression that Mr. Jesse or Reynard or Giuseppi-or whatever his last name actually is-was the sole costumed criminal to use that particular technology. 

Trixster: Well, you thought wrong! (Pause) About a year ago, I broke into one of the Trickster’s warehouses and stole a bunch of his old gear…including a pair of sweet air walking sneakers. I combined parts from some of the stuff to make my T-bombs, souped up the rest of the stuff so it made bigger explosions, and rigged the shoes so that they shot out these awesome jets of fire when I used ‘em. Then I went out to become the new and improved Trixster! 

Hugo Strange: And what did the original Trickster think of that? 

Trixster: Oh, he was ticked. It wasn’t so much that I stole his stuff-apparently he was actually kind of impressed by that part. It was more that I’d taken over his name and his gimmicks without him giving the say-so. (Pause) Not that I care what he thinks or anything. 

Hugo Strange: I see. (Pause) If the original Trickster resents you so much, how did you ever manage to join the Rogues? 

Trixster: I just kept following them, showing up at their hideouts and heists, and bothering them until they agreed to let me join. 

Hugo Strange: Weren’t you at all worried that they might lose their tempers and become violent? After all, this is a group of career criminals we’re talking about. 

Trixster: (Laughs) Worried? Are you crazy? I don’t worry about anything. (Pause) And besides, the Rogues don’t hurt kids. It’s one of Captain Cold’s stupid rules. 

Hugo Strange: Yes, the other Rogues have spoken extensively on the code of behavior that he expects them to hold to. (Pause) So, because of that code of conduct, you managed to annoy your way into the group? 

Trixster: Well, that, and I think the Captain’s actually got a soft spot for me. He won’t admit it, but I can tell. 

Hugo Strange: I suppose that makes sense. Mr. Snart obviously has a habit of adopting strays. A juvenile delinquent foolish enough to try to break into the world of costumed crime would be just the sort of thing to invoke his bizarre protective instincts. 

Trixster: Yeah, the Captain likes to pretend he’s tough, but his bark’s worse than his bite. The Rogues would rule the Twin Cities’ underworld easy if he weren’t such a soft touch. The old geezer’s got a conscience, and everybody knows it. (Pause) Me? I was born without one. Pretty neat, huh? 

Hugo Strange: Yes, I can definitely see why Mr. Snart has an affinity for you. 

Trixster: Whaddaya mean? 

Hugo Strange: I mean that the two of you are more alike than you seem to realize. 

Trixster: Don’t be ridiculous, Doc! I’m nothin’ like that boring, stuffy old man. 

Hugo Strange: Think about it, Axel. Both of you are from broken homes. Both of you have extremely troubled relationships with your fathers. Both of you dropped out of high school, ran away from home, and became involved in crime. Both of you sought out criminal cohorts who behave more like a twisted family than a traditional gang. Both of you hide your insecurities behind larger-than-life personas. And, most importantly, both of you pretend to be colder and more ruthless than you really are in order to protect yourselves. Mr. Snart pretends to be practical, emotionless, and ruthlessly pragmatic; you pretend to be a remorseless, hardened troublemaker. By doing so, you hope to become so tough that nothing will ever hurt you again. (Pause) No wonder Mr. Snart allowed you to join the Rogues. To a great extent, you are what he was probably like at your age. (Brief pause) Although admittedly, Mr. Snart was probably never as much of a try-hard as you seem to be. While you clearly have severe behavioral problems, the way in which you boasted about having no conscience spoke more of an attempt to make yourself seem more impressive than of true psychopathy. 

Trixster: (Angry) You don’t know what you’re talking about, old man! 

Hugo Strange: On the contrary, Axel, I know exactly what I am talking about. You are simply too afraid to admit it to yourself. 

Trixster: I told you, I’m not afraid of anything! (Pause) And I am not like Captain Cold! 

Hugo Strange: Axel, denying your problems and insecurities will only cause them to become worse. In order to achieve healing, you must acknowledge that you need help. 

Trixster: I don’t need help! I’m famous, I’ve got all the street cred I could ever want….

Hugo Strange: And you are a child desperately in need of a father figure. 

Trixster: (Upset) I’ve got father figures, egghead! They’re called the Rogues! 

Hugo Strange: So you admit that you sought out the Rogues to replace your broken family.

(Long pause)

Trixster: (Petulant) You think you’re real smart, don’t you? 

Hugo Strange: My intelligence is not what is at stake here, Axel. I am perfectly comfortable with who I am, and have no need of proving it to a troubled fifteen-year-old. I am simply trying to get you to realize that you need help. (Pause) You are still a boy, Axel. You have more than enough time to turn your life around; time to find real respect and acceptance. You can have a future as something other than a Rogue. 

Trixster: (Muttering) Fat chance. 

Hugo Strange: Axel, you are obviously quite intelligent and resourceful. If you direct your talent and energy to the right pathways, I am certain that you will be able to create a bright future for yourself. 

Trixster: Oh, yeah? If I’m so great, why did my old man walk out on me and mom? Why’d he pay all that money to hire those fancy lawyers so he wouldn’t have to pay child support? Why did nobody care when I started skipping school? If I’m so awesome, why did the police and the Flash only start worrying about me when I put on a costume and started throwing bombs around, huh? Why does a criminal whose life I forced myself into care more about me than my dad? (Pause) All I ever wanted was a little respect from him! And if I can’t have that, I’ll take anything I can get! 

Hugo Strange: Axel, if you want respect-real respect, not the illusory power of “street cred”-you must learn to respect both others and yourself. Attacking others and making your self-worth reliant on your ability to appear tough will only make you miserable. That is what Mr. Snart does, and you know what he is like. He is a deeply unhappy man. If you really wish to not be like him, you must learn to give yourself and others the love and respect your father never gave you. 

Trixster: (Trying to sound tough) I don’t need your advice, old man. I’m finally one of the Rogues, and that gives me everything I need.  I got money, I got power, and I got fame. 

Hugo Strange: But will you have happiness? Most of the Rogues are miserable, Axel. Mr. Dillon has attempted suicide multiple times. Mr. Harkness and Mr. McCulloch spend all of their time chasing their next high. Mr. Scudder is addicted to nicotine and is living in a fantasy world of simplistic heroes and villains in order to escape the pain of real life. Mr. Mardon has tied his identity so utterly to his Weather Wand that he almost cannot exist without it. Miss Snart has tied her happiness to Mr. Dillon, and is miserable whenever he is. Mr. Rathaway gives and gives and gives in the futile hope that he can earn love. Not one of them is truly happy. What makes you think that you will be different?

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Frances Kane, also known as Magenta. Patient suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder, a condition which was induced by a particularly unscrupulous therapist, and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Session One. So, Miss Kane, how are you feeling? 

Magenta: I heard that Wally West was here, Dr. Strange. Is that true? 

Hugo Strange: Unfortunately, Mr. West has recently escaped from our custody. That being said, we are doing everything in our power to bring him back here so that he can receive the treatment that he needs. (Pause) Why do you ask, Miss Kane? 

Magenta: I’m not Frances, Doctor. I’m Magenta. 

Hugo Strange: My apologies. So, Magenta, what prompted your question about Mr. West? 

Magenta: Because when he gets back here, I’m going to kill him. 

Hugo Strange: Kill him? Why? 

Magenta: Because he ruined my life! 

Hugo Strange: How so? 

Magenta: He wanted to have a girlfriend who was a superhero like he was, so when my powers started to manifest themselves, he forced me into the superhero business. He knew that I didn’t want to fight crime or become famous, but he pushed me into it anyway…and once my powers started to affect my mind and I tried to pull out, he abandoned me! He knew I needed help, but he didn’t care!  

Hugo Strange: You and Mr. West were romantically linked? 

Magenta: Unfortunately, yes. Not that he was much of a boyfriend. You wouldn’t know it to look at him now, but he had quite the wandering eye back in the day. 

Hugo Strange: Did he cheat on you while you were dating, Miss Kane? 

Magenta: Not exactly. But I could always tell that he didn’t think I was good enough for him. Not when there were all those other superheroines around, like Starfire and Raven and Wonder Girl. 

Hugo Strange: I can certainly understand how that might be unsettling. (Pause) Miss Magenta, your files state that your powers first manifested when you were in the car with your father and your brother. Tragically, this led to the car spinning out of control, and your father and brother were both killed in the crash. Shortly afterwards, your mother declared that you were demon-possessed and disowned you. You mentioned that the use of your powers negatively affects your mental health. Perhaps that is because your mind associates the use of your powers with the trauma you suffered when they first manifested themselves. What do you think? 

Magenta: (Defensively) I think that I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve spent years talking about my problems to therapists, and it never helps. 

Hugo Strange: And what do you think will help, Miss Magenta? 

Magenta: Killing Wally. If it wasn’t for him, Frances wouldn’t be such a wreck, and I wouldn’t even exist. Before Kid Flash and his superhero pals sent me to see a therapist, Frances didn’t have a second personality. But they didn’t run a background check on the therapist, and he used my trauma to create a second personality. He wanted to create a superpowered hitwoman, and he almost succeeded. And that would never have happened if Wally hadn’t pushed me so hard to use my powers. Once you become a metahuman, all people want to do is use you for your powers, and he should have known that! He’s a metahuman himself! 

Hugo Strange: I take it that you resent your powers, then? Perfectly understandable, given how much havoc they’ve wreaked upon your life. 

Magenta: Of course I resent them! All I ever wanted was to be a normal Blue Valley teenager…but once my powers manifested, I became a freak! My father and brother died, my mother disowned me-and the boy I’d had a crush on since grade school started dating me only because he thought I was going to become famous like him! (Pause) I didn’t want to be famous! I just wanted to be normal Frances Kane! But thanks to Wally and that blasted Dr. Polaris, I’ll never be anything more than a superpowered lunatic! 

Hugo Strange: Dr. Polaris? The alter of the unfortunate Dr. Neal Emerson? What does he have to do with this? 

Magenta: Dr. Polaris was the one who caused my powers to manifest. Because the two of us have such similar abilities, he was able to activate my latent powers. He was hoping that he would be able to use my powers to escape from the magnetic dimension that the Green Lantern had sent him to. Of course, he eventually managed to escape without me, but the damage had already been done. (Pause) You know what people call me behind my back? “Magenta, the magnetic witch”! His actions caused me to become a female version of him…split personality and all. If I ever find him…he’ll wish he had stayed in that magnetic dimension! 

Hugo Strange: I see. (Pause) Are there any ways in which your powers differ from those of Dr. Emerson? 

Magenta: I don’t know enough about Dr. Polaris to say for sure. Even though he helped to ruin my life, the two of us have never actually met in the flesh. (Pause) That being said, given what I’ve heard about his abilities, I would guess that he’s slightly more powerful than I am. I don’t think that I could alter the Earth’s magnetic fields enough to threaten the destruction of the planet in the way that he did. 

Hugo Strange: Interesting. (Pause) Given what you’ve told me, I think it would be reasonable to conclude that the conflict between costumed vigilantes and costumed criminals has wreaked considerable havoc on your life. While it’s possible that your metahuman powers would have emerged regardless, they likely would not have impacted your life so negatively had you not been used as a pawn by so-called superheroes and metahuman criminals alike. 

Magenta: You can say that again, doctor. The little games the costumed crowd plays…they’ve ruined my life! If I could come up with a way to put an end to it all, I’d do it gladly. 

Hugo Strange: In that case, Miss Magenta, you will be no doubt pleased to hear that I am part of an organized federal effort to rid the world of costumed vigilantes. 

Magenta: That sounds wonderful, Dr. Strange. Where do I sign up? 

Hugo Strange: You don’t. Not yet, at any rate. While I fully sympathize with your desire to prevent the reckless actions of vigilantes from further endangering society, I am afraid that I cannot condone your murderous intentions. My goal is to help these individuals, vigilantes and costumed criminals alike, become productive members of society, not to kill them. (Pause) What is more, you are still dealing with unresolved trauma from the loss of your family. Before you move forward in your life, you must come to terms with your past. I know that it will be difficult, Miss Magenta, but rest assured that I will help you do it. 

Magenta: Well, if you really mean it…Frances could probably use the help. 

Hugo Strange: In that case, may I speak with her? 

Magenta: Sure. 

(Pause) 

Hugo Strange: Miss Kane? 

Frances: (In a voice similar to, but distinct from, Magenta’s) I’m here, Dr. Strange. 

Hugo Strange: It’s nice to meet you, Miss Kane. How are you feeling? 

Frances: I’m okay. I’m just glad I managed to get myself checked into a mental hospital before I hurt anyone this time. 

Hugo Strange: And I am glad that you recognize your need for therapy, Miss Kane. It’s vanishingly uncommon in the costumed crowd. 

Frances: (laughs weakly) Well, most of them probably don’t have as many issues as I do. 

Hugo Strange: You would be surprised, Miss Kane. (Pause) Your willingness to seek therapy is especially commendable given the abuse you suffered at the hands of a disgrace to the psychiatric profession. 

Frances: Thank you, Dr. Strange. (Pause) If you…if you manage to recapture Wally, make sure that you don’t let me near him. I don’t want to risk Magenta hurting him. He’s really a sweet guy. 

Hugo Strange: That’s not what Magenta seems to think. 

Frances: Magenta is…she’s angry and looking for someone to blame, and, after our bad break-up, Wally was a convenient scapegoat. (Pause) Don’t get me wrong, Wally was a real jerk when he was twenty, but he wasn’t single-handedly responsible for the bad things that happened to me. And what’s more, he’s changed and matured and become a better guy. He and I made up a long time ago. We’ve been friends for almost three years now, and he’s done everything he can to make up for the way he treated me back then. If it wasn’t for him, my mental state would be much worse right now. 

Hugo Strange: So you possesses no ill will towards Mr. West? 

Frances: Not at all. (Pause) So you will keep him safe from Magenta? 

Hugo Strange: Of course I will. The health and well-being of my patients is my top priority. 

Frances: Good. (Pause) To be honest, I think Wally could really use the help. His parents were almost as awful to him as my mother was to me. When we were kids, we used to commiserate about our awful home lives, and even though he eventually got taken in by his Aunt Iris and Uncle Barry, I’m not sure he ever really got over it. Or that anyone ever does without help. 

Hugo Strange: Trust me, Miss Kane. I will do everything in my power to ensure that both you and Mr. West recover from your illnesses. 

Frances: I’m glad to hear that, Dr. Strange. After all the craziness of my life, I’d like nothing more than to finally be able to live a normal life. (Pause) I just hope that Wally will eventually feel the same way. He’s become a great guy, so I hope that you can help him realize that he doesn’t have to be a superhero to be special.

Hugo Strange: From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Richard Swift, also known as the Shade. Patient displays signs of depression. Session One. Hello, Mr. Swift. 

The Shade: Good morrow to you, Dr. Strange. (Pause) Would you care for some tea? 

Hugo Strange: Tea? (Tea set suddenly lands on Hugo Strange’s desk with a “clink!” sound) 

The Shade: Yes, tea. I’ve found that a nice cup of tea makes almost any situation more pleasant…even being locked in a sanatorium in spite of being sound of mind and able of body. 

Hugo Strange: Yes, I would like to apologize for that. When Iron Heights Penitentiary was partially destroyed, a bewildering series of bureaucratic decisions led to all of the costumed criminals being transferred here, regardless of whether or not they were actually mentally ill. I had no control over it. 

The Shade: I understand completely, Dr. Strange. Having been subject to the whims of your American bureaucracy for many decades now, I know all too well how it can twist and turn. (Pause) Tea?

Dr. Strange: It is against Asylum policy for me to take gifts from the patients, I’m afraid. 

The Shade: On my honor as a gentleman, it is not poisoned.

Dr. Strange: That’s not it. The policy is in place to avoid any conflicts of interest, not to avoid poison. (Pause) Although knowing some of my patients, the fact that it helps me to avoid potential toxins is an added bonus. 

The Shade: A pity. The tea really is quite good. (Pause) Oh, well. More for me, I suppose. (Sound of the Shade pouring tea into teacup) So, Dr. Strange, what can I do for you? 

Dr. Strange: Mr. Swift, you mentioned having been subjected to American bureaucracy for many decades. That strikes me as a slightly odd turn of phrase for a man who cannot possibly be more than thirty years old. 

The Shade: I am afraid you are mistaken, Dr. Strange. While I admit that I have aged remarkably well, the fact of the matter is that I am over two hundred years old. 

Dr. Strange: Mr. Swift, that is patently absurd. 

The Shade: In a world with aliens, men who can run faster than any horseless carriage, women with sonic screams, and children who can transform themselves into green animals, is an exceptionally long-lived man really that improbable? 

Dr. Strange: I suppose not. (Pause) So, Mr. Swift, are you a metahuman? 

The Shade: I must admit to never having taken a shine to that term. It sounds so…pedestrian. (Pause) But I suppose that that is neither here nor there. Yes, I am a metahuman.

Dr. Strange: And what are your powers? 

The Shade: Aside from being immortal, I am at present the most skilled wielder of the power of an extradimensional world known as the Darklands. In practical terms, that means that I can animate and manipulate shadows. 

Dr. Strange: If you are such a powerful metahuman, Mr. Swift, why aren’t you wearing a metahuman power dampener? 

The Shade: (chuckles) I’m immune to them, Dr. Strange. 

Dr. Strange: (Alarmed) Then why haven’t you already escaped? 

The Shade: Ennui, I suppose. When you have lived as long as I have, doctor, it does become hard to come upon new experiences. And, as unpleasant as it may be, being incarcerated in a sanatorium is at least a novel experience for me. 

Dr. Strange: A…sanitorium? Exactly how old are you, Mr. Swift? 

The Shade: Let’s see…I acquired my powers and became immortal in 1838, at the age of twenty-five. That means I would have been born in 1813. 

Dr. Strange: 1813? Do you mean to tell me that you were a contemporary of Queen Victoria and Charles Dickens? 

The Shade: Indeed. In point of fact, I was good friends with Mr. Dickens before his unfortunate passing. 

Dr. Strange: Mr. Swift, if you’re really as old as you say you are, you’ve lived through the Industrial Revolution, the American Civil War, the height of the British Empire, World War I, World War II, the Cold War….

The Shade: The Crimean War, the Boer War, the Sino-Japanese War, the Russian Revolution, the Suffragist Movement, the birth of psychology itself….yes, Dr. Strange, I have lived a tumultuous life.

Dr. Strange: How have you not become overwhelmed by it all? 

The Shade: Once everyone you ever knew has died, you tend to become a bit detached from the world…and I’ve lost everyone I ever knew twice over. My mother and father and brothers and sisters and nieces and nephews are all long dead. The first woman I ever loved died centuries ago, and the second and the third and the fourth died as well. Eventually, I stopped caring so much, and that made things much easier. When you are no longer worried about specific individuals, you start to realize just how cyclic and repetitive history is. (Pause) I think the only reason history repeats is because almost no one lives long enough to see the pattern firsthand. 

Dr. Strange: (Flipping through the Shade’s files) Mr. Swift, it is not healthy to live life detached from humanity. 

The Shade: If I were still human, I might agree. But I stopped being human nearly two centuries ago. 

Dr. Strange: What do you mean, Mr. Swift? 

The Shade: When I gained my metahuman powers, I was transformed. I did not become an enhanced human like the esteemed Mr. Garrick. I became something else…something both more and less than human. I may look human, but I do not believe I am human anymore. Humans don’t have ink running in their veins in place of blood. 

Dr. Strange: In speaking of Mr. Garrick…your records claim that you started fighting the original Flash in the 1940s. Is that correct? 

The Shade: Yes, it is. I had immigrated to the United States from my native England thirty years before, and I had already grown bored of the new country. For someone who had already traveled the world, there was only so much to see even in a country as large as this one. And then the Mystery Men exploded onto the scene. Metahumans had existed before that, of course, but never had there been so many in the same place at once. Suddenly, there was a costumed crimefighter on every block..and a dozen costumed criminals to fight every one of them. It was life on a level I had never before imagined, and so I decided I had to join in. Since Mr. Garrick’s speed seemed like it would pose the biggest challenge to me, I moved to Keystone City-this was long before it became a wasteland after the departure of the automotive industry-and joined into the pageantry. It was the most fun I’d had in years. Why, if the Mystery Men hadn’t appeared of their own accord, I would have had to create them. 

Dr. Strange: So you used the rise of these costumed vigilantes as a way to alleviate your own boredom? 

The Shade: Yes, I did. Of course, my cohorts had no idea I was merely playing a part. The Thinker and the Fiddler and the Ragdoll and dear Rose and Thorn…they all believed that I was one of them; another mad genius out to make themselves wealthy and powerful at the expense of the world. If I had told them that I was already wealthy from my long life and many travels, it would have ruined the grand charade. 

Dr. Strange: And what did you do after Mr. Garrick went into retirement? 

The Shade: I moved to Opal City. I was planning to try my hand at fighting Starman-the original one, Ted Knight-but the Mist made it very clear that he wasn’t going to let anyone else play in his city, so instead I simply settled down in Opal for a few decades. I was starting to get a bit bored with the whole supervillain game anyhow. (Pause) When young Barry Allen came onto the scene and pulled Mr. Garrick out of retirement, I decided to return to the game for old time’s sake, and I moved back to Keystone City. But in my black void that passes for my heart of hearts, Opal City is my true home. As long as Mr. Garrick lives, I will stay in Keystone, but when he is gone, I will return home. 

Dr. Strange: So you play at being a supervillain…because of nostalgia? 

The Shade: I suppose I do. It is a reminder of happier times; of a time before the Mystery Men stopped being such a mystery. (Pause) But such is the nature of life.

Dr. Strange: Do you…do you have any friends, Mr. Swift? 

The Shade: Mr. Dickens and Mr. Oscar Wilde come to mind. 

Dr. Strange: Let me clarify, Mr. Swift. Do you have any living friends? 

The Shade: I do: Mr. Garrick, Mr. Isaac Bowin, and Mr. Clifford DeVoe. (Pause) And the charming Mrs. Joan Garrick, of course. 

Dr. Strange: Let me clarify again. Do you have any living friends who aren’t over a hundred years old? 

The Shade: It seems rather unfair of you to keep moving the goalposts in this manner, Dr. Strange, but very well. I do indeed have friends who are under one hundred years of age. Young Mr. Barry Allen is a worthy successor to Mr. Garrick, and the stunning Mrs. Iris Allen is a delightful spitfire. Similarly, the very young Mr. West is likewise a worthy carrier of the Flash mantle, and his lovely wife, Mrs. Linda Park-West, is an intelligent, driven woman. 

Dr. Strange: Mr. Swift, do you have any living friends who aren’t in some way related to your apparent glory days as an enemy of the original Flash?

The Shade: (Frustrated) Yes. During my days in Opal City, I befriended the O’Dare family, and I keep tabs on them even now. Young Hope O’Dare shows particular promise. 

Dr. Strange: Mr. Swift, you haven’t left the Twin Cities for almost two decades now. Have you spoken to any of these O’Dares at all in that time? 

The Shade: Well…no….

Dr. Strange: Why not, Mr. Swift? 

The Shade: (Awkwardly, taken off-guard) Well, I have been rather busy. 

Dr. Strange: Busy doing what?

The Shade: Well…I….

Dr. Strange: You’ve been fighting the Flashes and escaping prisons, haven’t you, Mr. Swift? 

The Shade: Well, yes, but…

Dr. Strange: Mr. Swift, you’ve stopped living. 

The Shade: If I wanted psychoanalysis, Dr. Strange, I would have scheduled an appointment with Mr. Sigmund Freud while he was still living. 

Dr. Strange: Mr. Swift, when you moved to Opal City and were prevented from battling Starman, you started living for the first time in years. You spent well over a decade living an imaginary life as the Shade, a villain of the Flash; the Mist forced you to become Richard Swift again. And when you did, what happened? 

The Shade: Dr. Strange, I must protest. This is-

Dr. Strange: (Interrupting) You found a home. You found friends. You found new things you enjoyed…and that frightened you. Having already lived for over a century, you’d seen all your friends and loved ones die…and you couldn’t bear to have it happen again. So, when Mr. Garrick resurfaced, you hid yourself back in your imaginary life. As long as you could playact as the Flash’s villain, you wouldn’t have to acknowledge how afraid you were of losing your new friends and loved ones…including Mr. Garrick. As long as Mr. Garrick is the Flash, he’s not a man. He’s a symbol, a legend…and that means he can’t die. (Pause) Immortal though you may be, Mr. Swift, you’re terrified of death. 

The Shade: (A little too forcefully) Don’t be absurd, Dr. Strange. I accepted that I would outlive everyone I ever met long ago. What you call fear, I call acceptance of the inevitable. 

Dr. Strange: Oh, really? (Pause) Well, in that case, you won’t care if I have my guards execute Mr. Garrick. 

The Shade: Considering Mr. Garrick is not here, that is a rather empty threat, Dr. Strange. 

Dr. Strange: That’s where you are mistaken, Mr. Swift. Thanks to the efforts of Mrs. Amanda Waller, costumed vigilantes are no longer tolerated, and Mr. Garrick and Mr. Allen were both transported to this facility a few days ago, pending their trials. (Pause) We’re still trying to track down Mr. West, but even he cannot run forever. 

The Shade: And how do I know that you are telling the truth? 

Dr. Strange: See for yourself, Mr. Swift. (Turns on a screen) This is footage of Mr. Garrick from a few days ago. 

Jay Garrick: I don’t know what you think you’re doing, Dr. Strange, but I can tell you this: you won’t get away with it! Justice will prevail! 

Dr. Strange: As you can see, we do indeed have Mr. Garrick housed here. But if you have really accepted death as you say, you won’t care if I kill him. After all, we are running rather low on space here at Arkham, and the population is likely only going to grow as the government rounds up all these costumed vigilantes. (Pulls out walkie-talkie) Guards, take Mr. Garrick to the infirmary and euthanize him.

The Shade: NO! No, you cannot kill him! I will not let you!

Dr. Strange: Why do you care? You will soon outlive him anyway? (Noise of shadow powers expanding and filling the room) 

The Shade: (Icily) If you do not rescind that order at once, I will unleash the full power of the Darklands upon you. 

Dr. Strange: (Calmly) No need. The command was fake. (Pause) Mr. Garrick is indeed being treated here, but I do not euthanize my patients, especially not ones who are as noble, if misguided, as Mr. Garrick. This was simply…a test. 

The Shade: (Coldy furious) A test? 

Dr. Strange: Yes, to see how afraid of death you really were. And I was right. You are afraid of death. Or rather, you’re afraid of being left alone again. If you weren’t, you would not have reacted so strongly to my supposed threat on Mr. Garrick’s life. 

The Shade: (Cold) Very well, Dr. Strange. Perhaps you are right. (Pause) But I warn you, Dr. Strange, you are trifling with forces far beyond your understanding. (Shadow noises get more intense)  I would advise you not to give me such a test again. 

Dr. Strange: (Finally a bit nervous) I don’t think that will be necessary, Mr. Swift. 

The Shade: (Suddenly calm) Good. (Pours another cup of tea) Same time tomorrow, then? Excellent. I’ll bring the tea.

Hugo Strange:  From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Grodd, also known as Gorilla Grodd. Patient suffers from Antisocial Personality Disorder and delusions of grandeur. Or at least, that would be my diagnosis were he human. But he is not human. He is a Gorilla beringei graueri,  or Eastern Lowland Gorilla. (Pause) Yes. He’s a gorilla. I am conducting a therapy session with a hyper-intelligent gorilla which speaks perfect English. 

Gorilla Grodd: And I am listening to the idiotic ramblings of a self-important Homo sapien. Your point, human? 

Hugo Strange: Fair enough, Mr. Grodd. (Pause) At any rate, since I do not know if a hyper-intelligent gorilla can properly be diagnosed with human psychological conditions, I may as well leave the precise psychological analysis behind and begin the session. Session One. So, Mr. Grodd, how are you feeling? 

Gorilla Grodd: Emperor Grodd to you, human. 

Hugo Strange: (Slightly nervous) Very well. I shall address you by your preferred title. (Pause) Where exactly do you come from, Emperor Grodd? 

Gorilla Grodd: I hail from a secret city of hyper-advanced gorillas. It is located in the heart of Africa, and it is hidden from prying human eyes by a forcefield more advanced than anything your primitive culture has yet created. (Pause) You humans have given it the remarkably uncreative name of Gorilla City. 

Hugo Strange: What do you call your city? 

Gorilla Grodd: We call our city by a name from our native language, one that is unpronounceable to you humans. (Pause) However, the closest English translation would probably be the City of Knowledge and Transcendence. 

Hugo Strange: How large is the population of this city? 

Gorilla Grodd: Do you honestly imagine me to be so foolish as to give away information that could potentially be used against me in battle, human? 

Hugo Strange: My apologies. I didn’t intend to intrude on the security of your city. (Pause) How did you and your compatriots gain your vast knowledge and intelligence? 

Gorilla Grodd: They were gifts to our ancestors from the stars above. Centuries ago, a meteor landed near the site where the City of Knowledge and Transcendence was founded, and its radiation mutated our ancestors, who had previously been ordinary gorillas, into beings of great knowledge and mental powers. With this knowledge and power, they created a city far more advanced than you primitive humans could ever dream of creating. It is a city of prosperity, learning, and culture, but it will soon be more. Much, much more. 

Hugo Strange: What will it be, Emperor Grodd? 

Gorilla Grodd: It will be a hub of a vast empire under my command…as soon as I depose that weak-willed, peace-loving fool Solovar, that is. 

Hugo Strange: Solovar? Who is Solovar? 

Gorilla Grodd: The current ruler of the City of Knowledge and Transcendence. He and his sycophantic council waste our race’s vast potential, choosing to hide behind our forcefield barrier and parlay with an inferior species rather than use our mental powers, vast intelligence, formidable technology, superior strength, and far more appealing facial features to conquer this world in our own name! 

Hugo Strange: I see. (Pause) What sort of mental powers do you and your species possess, Emperor Grodd? 

Gorilla Grodd: All of us are telepathic and telekinetic. However, the false king Solovar and I also possess a more formidable power: the Force of Mind. With this power, we can bend the minds of others to our whims or launch powerful psychic attacks against our foes. Solovar is too weak to use his Force of Mind powers to their truest extent, but I have no such restraint. 

Hugo Strange: And how do these powers compare to those of Mr. Dillon?  

Gorilla Grodd: (Furious) You dare to compare my superior mental powers to those of a primitive human? 

Hugo Strange: (Quickly) I did not mean to imply that his powers were in any way as impressive as yours, Emperor Grodd. I simply wished to understand how your powers are so much more effective and dangerous than his are. 

Gorilla Grodd: (Mostly mollified) I am glad to see you recognize the inferiority of your barbaric species, human. (Pause) In addition to being limited by his primitive human brain, the Top’s powers are predominantly telekinetic in nature. While he does have the power to induce vertigo, and a very limited ability to alter behavior, he is not telepathic and cannot fully overwhelm the will of others in the way my Force of Mind so easily can. Nor can he launch proper psychic attacks. His vertigo ability is disorienting, but it pales in comparison to the psychic attack of an inhabitant of the City of Knowledge and Transcendence. (Pause) That being said, his powers are rather impressive for a member of your species. Perhaps that is why you humans seem to find his behavior so odd. His primitive human mind simply cannot properly cope with the powers it has been given. 

Hugo Strange: A very interesting theory, Emperor Grodd. (Pause) So, when you aren’t trying to dethrone Solovar or conquer the world, what do you do? 

Gorilla Grodd: Even by the standards of my species, I am a very talented scientist. Prior to my first attempt to overthrow Solovar’s weak, isolationist reign, I invented many of the City of Knowledge and Transcendence’s most useful devices and completely revolutionized our transportation system as well. (Pause) By the standards of your species, I am a scientific genius without peer. Even Alexander Luthor has not a fraction of my intelligence. 

Hugo Strange: You’ve met Lex Luthor? The multi-billionaire head of Lexcorp? 

Gorilla Grodd: Unfortunately, I have had to lower myself to working with him on more than one occasion. (Pause) Politics makes for strange, disgustingly hairless bedfellows. 

Hugo Strange: Have you ever met anyone that you did consider your intellectual equal, Emperor Grodd? 

Gorilla Grodd: Two, actually. For all of his weakness, I must admit that Solovar is brilliant. Loathe as I am to admit it, there is a reason that he has managed to thwart my attempts to permanently overthrow him. 

Hugo Strange: And who is the other? 

Gorilla Grodd: The other? That would be the Brainiac, the hyper-advanced android of the planet Colu. He is an intergalactic knowledge collector. 

Hugo Strange: You’re quite well-connected, Emperor Grodd. 

Gorilla Grodd: Are you really surprised that I would associate with another ruler, human? After all, I am Grodd the conqueror! This world will fall to me, for it is mine by right! 

Hugo Strange: And once you do take over the planet? 

Gorilla Grodd: All shall kneel before Grodd! (Pause) And then I will transform all of you disgusting humans into better-smelling and much more aesthetically pleasing apes! 

Hugo Strange: Your master plan of conquest involves transforming the entire human race into gorillas? 

Gorilla Grodd: (Threateningly) Would you rather my gorilla army and I devoured all of your primitive brains instead?

Hugo Strange: (Nervous) O-of course not, Emperor Grodd.

Gorilla Grodd: That is what I thought you would say. (Pause) Of course, I will probably eat a few human brains regardless. Your brains aren’t of much use for actual thinking, but they do make a surprisingly tasteful delicacy. 

Hugo Strange: (Horrified) You’re a cannibal? 

Gorilla Grodd: Of course not! 

Hugo Strange: (Confused) But you just said that you’ve eaten brains! 

Gorilla Grodd: I did. But that does not make me a cannibal. A cannibal eats members of their own species. Humans are not my species, so I am not a cannibal. I am an anthropophagus. 

Hugo Strange: But you admit to eating people. 

Gorilla Grodd: Yes. And because of that, I would suggest that you not make any attempt to prevent me from escaping from this primitive penal facility. My Force of Mind powers will override any attempt you make regardless, but if you do as I say, I will refrain from eating your brains right now. 

Hugo Strange: You…you’re free to go. Arkham Asylum doesn’t have the necessary treatments for a member of your advanced species anyhow. 

Gorilla Grodd: Thank you for your hospitality, human.

Hugo Strange:  From the patient files of Dr. Hugo Strange, director of Arkham Asylum. Patient: Lashawna Baez, alias Peek-a-Boo. Patient suffers from Major Depressive Disorder and Generalized Anxiety Disorder. Session One. Hello, Miss Baez. How are you doing? 

Peek-a-Boo: Why do you care? I’m a Rogue, remember? Just lock me up and throw away the key. That’s what Keystone did. 

Hugo Strange: I wasn’t aware you were a member of the Rogues, Miss Baez. Your file suggests that you always work alone. 

Peek-a-Boo: Not a Rogue as in the Rogues. A Rogue as in a costumed criminal. 

Hugo Strange: I see. (Pause) I understand that you’re a metahuman, Miss Baez. Would you care to elaborate on that? 

Peek-a-Boo: I can teleport. Unfortunately, every time I do it, it causes a localized explosion. I was hoping to be able to overcome it, and maybe even use it in my career as a doctor, but a year after I entered medical school, dad’s kidneys started to fail. My mom had died of lung cancer when I was six, and I don’t have siblings, so I had to take care of him by myself. After awhile, it became too much for me to balance my classes with taking care of Dad. Dad wanted me to stay in school, because he had been so proud of me for being the first member of our family to go to college, but I couldn’t just leave him alone at home. What if he got really sick when I wasn’t home? So I dropped out. I tried everything to get him a new kidney, but we were poor and black, so we kept getting pushed back on the list. After a couple years, it was pretty clear that dad was never getting his kidney, so I made the really stupid decision to take the kidney by force. I knew that it was wrong, but I convinced myself that I’d been wronged first, and that that justified what I was about to do. The Flash-Wally West, not Barry Allen-stopped me. I’m pretty sure he thought I’d get community service or something, seeing as I didn’t have any previous criminal record, but because I was a metahuman, I got sent to Iron Heights instead. 

Hugo Strange: If that’s the case, Miss Baez, why is your record so extensive? Your files list several thefts prior to your arrest for the attempted kidney theft. 

Peek-a-Boo: That…that was Warden Wolfe. When the Flash learned that I’d been sent to Iron Heights, he tried to get me out, but as soon as I was put into Iron Heights’ system, Wolfe had my records altered so that he could justify keeping me in Iron Heights with the other “metahuman freaks”. Wally’s been trying to prove what he’s done ever since, but it hasn’t done any good. Nobody in power cares about what happens to a metahuman criminal-especially not a poor, black one. I’m just another superpowered thug now. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Desmond mentioned that metahuman inmates are kept in a separate wing of the prison called the Pipeline. Were you housed there, Miss Baez? 

Peek-a-Boo: Up until I got moved here, yeah. 

Hugo Strange: Mr. Desmond alleged that prisoners in the Pipeline are regularly beaten. Is that accurate, Miss Baez? 

Peek-a-Boo: W-will this interview get back to Warden Wolfe? 

Hugo Strange: I’m going to take that as confirmation that Mr. Desmond’s allegations are true. 

Peek-a-Boo: Don’t say anything, Dr. Strange! If Warden Wolfe finds out that we complained, things’ll get even worse for us when we get sent back to Iron Heights! 

Hugo Strange: Miss Baez, I promise you that I have no intention of ever allowing you to be sent back into the clutches of this Warden Wolfe. What he has done to you in unconscionable. 

Peek-a-Boo: You…you believe me? 

Hugo Strange: Of course I believe you, Miss Baez. For one thing, your records from your time as a medical student were not particularly compatible with the idea of you having multiple previous arrests. And for another, the fact that you managed to escape Iron Heights in order to see your dying father, but did not use your powers to escape in order to free yourself or to commit more crimes also would not make much sense for a habitual offender. For these reasons, I was already skeptical of your criminal record. Hearing your explanation simply reinforced what I suspected from the start. (Pause) And, having interviewed numerous costumed criminals, Miss Baez, I can say with confidence that you do not strike me as the type who is likely to become a habitual offender. You have more than paid your debt to society for your attempted theft of the kidney, and I will do everything in my power to see that you are released from Arkham Aslyum as soon as possible. 

Peek-a-Boo: (Surprised) Really? You will? 

Hugo Strange: I will, Miss Baez. 

Peek-a-Boo: Thank you, Dr. Strange. I…I don’t know how much luck you’ll have, but I appreciate the thought anyway. 

Hugo Strange: You are quite welcome, my dear. (Pause) While you’re here, would you mind answering a few more questions for me? 

Peek-a-Boo: I guess not. What do you want to know? 

Hugo Strange: First, I am curious as to how Roscoe Dillon, one of the most powerful metahumans in the Central/Keystone area, has avoided being locked up in the Pipeline. Mr. Desmond claims that it is because of his known mental illness, but if Warden Wolfe was willing to fudge records to keep you in the Pipeline, I would think he would be even more willing to fudge records in order to keep control over someone who threatened to blow up half the world, while in the grip of a manic episode or otherwise. 

Peek-a-Boo: Actually, the Top hasn’t avoided the Pipeline entirely. 

Hugo Strange: He hasn’t? 

Peek-a-Boo: No. You see, after I had been in Iron Heights for a couple of weeks, Warden Wolfe heard that someone was going to interview me. In the hopes of convincing me not to talk to them, he ordered the Pipeline guards to put me in the cell with “the lunatic”, and they shoved me into a filthy padded cell with a large, muscular man. He had these really unsettling glowing green eyes, and I thought for sure that he would attack me, but he didn’t. Instead, he just looked at me curiously and went back to muttering to himself. Over the next couple of days, his hygiene started deteriorating rapidly…and by the end of the week, he tried to hang himself with his straitjacket. I’m still not really sure how he got it off, but somehow he did, and if I hadn’t called for the guards, he would’ve died. Luckily, one of the guards was Correctional Officer Morrison, who always treated us well. He never participated in the beatings, and he always tried to make sure that we were healthy. When he took the Top to the infirmary and found out about his Bipolar Disorder, he was furious and told Warden Wolfe that if he didn’t move him out of the Pipeline immediately, he would quit. He said that he wasn’t going to be responsible for someone committing suicide. Warden Wolfe got mad, but because Officer Morrison is really good at his job, he had to agree to let the Top go. Officer Morrison tried to help me, too, but because I didn’t have any previously diagnosed mental illnesses, he wasn’t able to get me moved out of the Pipeline. 

Hugo Strange: That sounds as though it would have been incredibly traumatic. 

Peek-a-Boo: It was. I had nightmares about him trying to hang himself for months afterwards. (Pause) And it didn’t exactly help that Warden Wolfe had some of the other guards give me the worst beating of my life a few days afterwards. Apparently, since he hadn’t been able to scare me into agreeing not to be interviewed, he decided to physically prevent me from being able to be interviewed to make sure that I stayed put. 

Hugo Strange: That is despicable. I understand that a warden sometimes needs to be strict in order to maintain order in a prison, but that does not excuse the abuse of prisoners, especially not first-time offenders and the mentally ill. Rest assured that I will do everything in my power to see Warden Wolfe removed from power. 

Peek-a-Boo: Good luck with that. He’s got ties to the D.A. and the mayor’s office. The Flashes, Iris West, Linda Park, and a couple civil rights lawyers have been trying to remove him from power for over two years now, and still haven’t gotten anywhere. It’s hopeless. 

Hugo Strange: (Concerned) Miss Baez, have you had trouble with sleeping or eating recently? 

Peek-a-Boo: Yes. I haven’t slept properly since I was sent to Iron Heights, and I haven’t had much of an appetite since I watched the Top try to kill himself. 

Hugo Strange: Have you had any panic attacks in the last six months, Miss Baez? 

Peek-a-Boo: Except for the nightmares, which mostly stopped a few weeks after that really awful beating, no. My anxiety’s been through the roof since my father first got sick, though. All I can think about some days is about the bad things that could happen to me or to people I care about. 

Hugo Strange: I see. And have you experienced feelings of persistent sadness, worthlessness, or hopelessness? 

Peek-a-Boo: Now that you mention it…yes. I…I haven’t felt happy since my father got sick, and once he passed away….some days I almost wish that I had died, too. (Pause) Sometimes I think that maybe the Top had the right idea when he tried to kill himself. Once a metahuman is convicted of a crime, their life is over. 

Hugo Strange: (Alarmed) Are you planning to kill yourself, Miss Baez? 

Peek-a-Boo: No. I don’t think I could actually go through with something like that. (Pause) It’s just…I don’t see how things will ever get better for me. I know you want to help me, and I really appreciate it, but Warden Wolfe is too powerful. You’ll never be able to get me out of his grasp, and he’ll certainly never let me go. 

Hugo Strange: Miss Baez, I will forge the necessary paperwork needed to have you committed to Arkham Asylum before I will send you back to that sadist. Your Generalized Anxiety Disorder and Major Depressive Disorder have been severely worsened by your stay in Iron Heights, and if you are sent back there, I dread to think what might happened. It was only through your quick thinking and a stroke of good luck that Mr. Dillon was saved from his attempted suicide. Who would save you? 

Peek-a-Boo: I…I really appreciate your concern for me, Dr. Strange. But I don’t want you to get into trouble for me. I’m not worth it. It’s my own fault that I ended up in Iron Heights. 

Hugo Strange: While I don’t disagree that your decision to steal a kidney was reckless and foolhardy, it was also the action of a desparate young woman who wanted to save her father’s life. You would never have become a habitual criminal, and the fact that you were sent to Iron Heights solely because of your metahuman powers was a miscarriage of justice…to say nothing of the abuse you were given once you arrive there. You are not a hardened criminal by any stretch of the imagination, and you do not belong in Iron Heights. 

Peek-a-Boo: That’s what Wally said, too, but even with all his power, he couldn’t get me away from Warden Wolfe. What makes you think you can?
Hugo Strange: Unlike the misguided Mr. West, I am not a vigilante. As such, I have an extensive amount of experience of working within the law, and that experience will allow me to beat Warden Wolfe at his own game. Miss Baez, I swear to you that I will keep you safe and help you recover from your illness. All you need do is trust me. 

Peek-a-Boo: All right, Dr. Strange. I…I trust you.

does anyone else hate getting totally owned by The Horrors. just saying

red is villainous