Arkham Island — Morning
The bridge ended and Arkham island opened up before him.
Roman looked out the small window, wrists cuffed in his lap. He had seen Blackgate from the water and on TV but up close, through this transport window, it was something far more in person.
The outer wall hit first; it was made of deep reinforced concrete running the full perimeter of the prison without a single gap, dozens upon dozens of watchtowers, anti-climbing measures glinting along the top though it seemed not all the towers were in use, budget cuts perhaps? The van passed through the first checkpoint and the gates opened and closed behind them with heavy finality.
Then the rings began.
Ten stories of concrete and steel in 8 concentric blocks spreading inward from the outer wall. Each ring housed a progressively higher classification of inmates, in total it held just over sixty thousand inmates, easily the largest prison on the planet. The facility ran three shifts of corrections officers and was understaffed on all three, with only maybe guards matching 10% of the Blackgates population numbering around 6 thousand.
The general population rings were overcrowded, concrete-block enclosures where dozens of inmates are packed tightly together under constant surveillance, minimal bedding, and harsh lighting. It allowed the limited staff to manage them better but was a volatile situation.
Once they passed through each ring the island gave way to something more specialized as the van moved inward. The architecture changed into something much older and the guards changed from Blackgate to Arkham, easy to see in the level of equipment.
At the centre of the island, the ground rose into a hill.
Arkham Asylum sat on the elevated ground with its old gothic stone towers, narrow windows with iron frames, extensions and additional containment buildings had been added onto and built around the original structure over the past hundred years.
The facility had been built when the Quirk era was new and no one yet understood what containing its worst users would require.
The van wound up the hill road and Roman read the various extension buildings signs through the window as they passed.
A low building to the left, set apart and surrounded by its own fence, staffed by guards in full fire-resistant gear:
FIREFLY CONTAINMENT — KEEP TEMPERATURE LOW AT ALL TIMES MINIMUM TEN STAFF WITH HEAVY SUPPRESSION EQUIPMENT ON DUTY.
Further up, a longer structure built deep into the ground with no external windows, the entrance covered by a double-door sound-dampening airlock:
VOCAL QUIRK WING – CURRENT RESIDENTS MAD HATTER — DOLLHOUSE — HIGH COGNITIVE HAZARD ALL STAFF MUST WEAR FULL NOISE-CANCELLING HEADSETS AT ALL TIMES ANY AUDITORY EXPOSURE IS A BREACH EVENT.
A rack of headsets hung bolted to the outer wall. The guards stationed outside already had theirs on.
The van turned right and pulled up to a smaller two-story building set back from the main Arkham complex.
SPECIALIZED — WEST RESIDENTIAL AUTHORIZED ACCESS ONLY ADVANCE CLEARANCE REQUIRED.
The two GCPD officers got out while two Arkham guards in heavy transfer gear were already waiting at the rear door.
Roman stepped out of the van into the cool morning air of the island and he looked up at the main Arkham structure taking it in as the officers handed him over and left.
The GCPD officers had the van moving back down the hill road inside four minutes not wanting to stick around a place known for its issues as even though the security seemed impressive everyone knew it didn't live up to its presentation.
The Arkham guards took Roman inside.
The corridor was carpeted, dark green and well-maintained, the walls were painted rather than bare concrete and the lighting was warm? At the far end, through a glass wall, a common area was visible; it had pool tables, televisions, and seating that looked like high end furniture.
His cell was a private single room with a window with bars and reinforced glass, a large bed at a quality close to a high end hotel, a desk with a computer, and a television mounted on the wall.
The rumors had been true.
The west residential wing wasn't what Arkham claimed it was on paper, in reality it was a cushy facility for the powerful and the connected where men whose criminal connections or power were too significant to risk offending, mainly mobsters or the social and financially elite. Here they had most of the comforts they were accustomed to while they served sentences in a rare event they couldn't pay off a judge.
Roman sat on the bed for a while, then changed into the Arkham jumpsuit provided it wasn't required but there was no laundry service for prisoners suits, the one luxury they were denied.
When he finished, he stepped into the common area.
His eyes landed on the man he had come here for.
Alberto Falcone…
East Gotham — The Bowery District — Evening
Sophia Falcone's red limo entering from the east drew immediate attention from everyone on the block as she stepped out in front of the Stacked Deck with two Falcone soldiers on her left and Butch a half-step behind her right shoulder. The bouncers moved aside before she reached the door knowing better than to try and greet the King of Gotham's daughter, Inside the casino floor noise filled with slot machines, cards shuffling, and cheers from guests. However when Sophia moved through the main floor any tables nearest to her went quiet for a beat before resuming.
She then ascended the stairs to see owner Butch followed her to the stairs before briefly pausing.
A plain-looking man was watching them with his phone to his ear, Butch watched him then noticed they saw him before turning and disappearing into the crowd before turning to follow Sophia.
That man unknown to them was Basil Karlo.
He had come to the Stacked Deck on his night off because Eraser let him in without questions after he mentioned working with Crane, assuming it meant Maroni-adjacent connections. Basil stepped out of the casino onto the pavement, where he had a clear sightline to the limo and the soldiers posted outside, and called Jaina.
"You are not going to believe who just walked into the Stacked Deck," he said.
The Stacked Deck — Private Upper Floor
Eraser's private lounge occupied the full upper floor full of Expensive leather seating, a well-stocked bar along the back wall, all the while casino noise rising through the floorboards.
He had a bottle of expensive wine open when Sophia entered, his attendant poured her some without wasting a second.
"Ms. Falcone," Eraser said, in his signature yellow suit and tinted glasses. "What can I do for you this evening?"
"Roman Sionis," Sophia said, sitting down across from him. "Where is he?"
Eraser spread his hands with the practiced expression of a man who knew the answer would disappoint. "The whereabouts of Roman Sionis is genuinely outside my current knowledge, Ms. Falcone."
Butch moved from the doorway; he only needed to take a step to send the message that he better not lie.
Eraser's eyes flicked to Butch, then back to Sophia.
"I want to be clear that I have always operated as a genuinely neutral party, whatever is developing between your family and Maroni, the Stacked Deck has no side in it. I work with—"
"Look at me," Sophia said.
Eraser looked at her.
His expression changed almost immediately, he tried to look away and found he couldn't, that woman's Quirk was now active. Final Judgment, Small lies brought pain at first, then huge pain and damage, and if someone tries to keep up their lies and deception it could kill.
"Now lets try it this way" she smiled before continuing, "does Sionis work for Maroni?"
"Look lady Im neutral here–"
A stinging pain in his chest cut him off, before he began again.
I do business with who pays me.
Nothing.
Sophia knew that the Maronis did use more unconventional methods and allies more than the Falcones because her father detested neutral parties as his old fashioned deep loyalty beliefs didn't allow it something she would change in the near future
"While true that is not what I asked is it, now does Sionis work for Maroni?"
"He does not-"
The pain came again but more violent this time like a deep knife was stabbed into his sternum and his wine glass slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor.
His attendant moved forward before Eraser raised a hand.
He breathed through it.
"At least not directly…"
Nothing, truth.
"What do you mean at least not directly'?" Sophia asked.
"To my knowledge he is with someone," he said, deciding to weigh his words in a way that was safer, "is with someone connected to Vincent Rossi."
Nothing, truth.
Sophia remained quiet, watching him remembering where she had heard that name.
Vincent Rossi, a Maroni captain who had risen fast over the past few years running Financial operations on the surface, brutal enforcement underneath. There had been rumors of a young chemical Quirk user in his crew, but they had abandoned digging deeper when Thorne became the priority.
"The name of this connected individual now!" Sophia said.
Eraser looked at her then looked at Butch and at his own people who had quietly positioned themselves around the lounge, the tension heavy around them.
He opened his mouth.
Sophia's phone rang.
Unknown number.
The same one from before.
She looked away from Eraser and her Quirk released him instantly.
He exhaled finally taking some comfortable breathes, the colour returning to his face as his attendant helped him sit back.
"There's no need to waste any more of Eraser's evening," the voice on the line said when she answered, the same voice as before. "Return to your car I have more to discuss that will be more useful than whatever name he was about to give you."
Sophia stood in the center of the lounge.
"Fine," she said.
She walked to the door, her guards fell in behind her and Butch followed last, glancing back at Eraser, who was leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, breathing hard who finally spoke again once they were gone.
"The Maronis," Eraser said to the ceiling, voice rough, "are considerably more pleasant."
His attendant patted his arm gently.
Arkham Asylum — West Residential — Common Area
Alberto sat across from Roman.
"I know that mask," he said. "I remember seeing you around the tower a couple times I think" He tilted his head. "Do you work for my father?"
"Used to," Roman said.
Alberto looked at him for a moment, processing this. Then he laughed. "Good," he said as he picked up his fork gesturing to the other inmates dramatically. "I want to be very clear to any minion of his who ended up in here, I would personally skewer them with great pleasure."
Then, seemingly a separate thought, he picked up his dinner knife and threw it sideways. It hit the far wall and clattered to the floor.
"I hate the old man too," Roman said.
Alberto looked at him.
"Then you and I," Alberto said, "are going to get along."
Crane's Wings Facility — Three Days Earlier — Flashback
Crane had stood at the board in his office and walked Roman through everything he had planned for the near future.
Strange had been on the secondary screen, his Arkham office behind him with his hands folded neatly on the desk.
"Alberto Falcone's Quirk is called Pendulum," Crane said. "His psychological states swing between two poles. Whichever pole he is at, his mind rewrites everything around it. His loyalties, his perception of the people in his life, and his entire relationship to the Falcone name."
He had looked at Roman directly.
"At one pole he is exactly what his father wanted: a man who is composed, loyal, and driven by family pride. At the other pole everything inverts, where loyalty becomes hatred, composure becomes violence and the target is usually whoever most recently made him feel inferior or rejected."
Strange leaned forward slightly on the screen.
"The Quirk amplifies whichever state is running while suppressing all awareness of the other," Strange said. "When Alberto is in the loyal state or I have named his "Prince State", he has selective memory of the hatred and when the hatred state or "Monster" is running, it is the same. Therefore he believes completely in whichever version of reality the Quirk is currently producing."
A brief pause as it was a complex Quirk.
"Most of his violence was committed in the hateful state," Strange continued. "The victims were usually women he felt had dismissed or humiliated him, the level of brutality and depravity in these rapes and murders appears to make his state more powerful. However the same can be said for when he acts positively as in when he did violence for his father and the Falcone family. So the deeper the shift the more power he gains, however in my study he has deep bipolarism so the shifts happen too frequently for him to reach a high power level and he can be conditioned to be in the middle of the pendulum keeping him weak."
"What triggers the shift?" Roman asked.
"Perceived rejection is the most reliable trigger for the hateful swing," Crane said. "Being cut off by his father and remanded to Arkham has made him considerably more unstable than he was before. The facility represents paternal rejection made permanent and physical, with no mechanism for earning back approval and no constructive outlet for the hatred." He paused. "The Prince state remains accessible however. Strange's observation logs show it surfaces reliably when Alberto is treated as significant, when someone engages with him as an equal rather than as a patient or a problem as well as agreeing with him and playing into his ego it has how Arkham has kept him at a state close to neutral."
"Lead with respect and he is manageable," Roman said.
Strange then told him a few final suggestions.
"Do not agree with anything that sounds like acceptance of Alberto's situation or disagree with him in a way that he could perceive as an insult only as a complement"
Roman had looked at the board.
Crane had looked at him for a moment. "Tell him what he wants to believe. He will believe it completely. That is the whole point of the Quirk."
Arkham Asylum — West Residential — Common Area — Present
By evening they were at the pool tables.
Alberto played with the focus of a man who had been desperate for a genuine opponent and had finally found one. He was good though Roman was better, but he was keeping it close and letting Alberto stay ahead before he would let him take the win..
One of the televisions on the far wall was running Gotham's evening news.
The anchor was interviewing Commissioner Gordon.
"Commissioner, how would you characterize the current threat level in terms of organized crime activity in the city?"
Gordon looked tired and a little annoyed at being forced to do this press confrence.
"I think the honest assessment is that Gotham is potentially approaching a period of significant instability," Gordon said. "The Thorne organization's collapse created a power vacuum that has not been filled in any stable way. We have intelligence suggesting the remaining major families are now in active competition for that territory along with Thorne remnants, we believe that there may be a war between Falcone and Maroni soon and are trying to prevent violence as best we can."
Alberto had stopped playing.
Roman glanced over and saw Alberto was watching the television with his cue in one hand. His expression cycling through several things at once until the Prince state was running at full capacity.
"Maroni," Alberto said. "Street-level scum who thinks he can reach the level of my family!" He said with complete conviction. "My father will crush him. The Falcone name has run this city for three generations and Sal Maroni could not dream of what it would take to beat us."
His cue cracked against the edge of the table.
"He will die on his knees in front of my father and everything he has built will come back to where it belongs. He is not even worthy of being my fathers lowest servant."
He looked at Roman.
"Falcones will crush them," Roman said.
Alberto stared at him for a moment, then the tension in his face released and the wide grin came. The satisfaction of a man who had found the right audience.
"Exactly," he said. "Exactly." He chalked his cue. "Your shot."
Roman leaned over the table and lined up the shot.
This was going to be a strange couple weeks.