Dr. Strange and Alexander Knox
May. 24th, 2006 09:58 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
gotham_knockingDr. Hugo Strange’s office was very well-appointed. And large. Larger than Knox’s apartment, Alexander Knox suspected. Paintings mingled with diplomas and awards and what Knox didn’t recognize as pre-Columbian artifacts. The desk was fine heavy wood, and the couch was very inviting. He didn’t let himself sit there for a second.
“Ah. Mr. Knox, I presume?” The Austrian accent echoed as Strange, a bit on the large side but wearing a perfectly tailored suit, entered and seemed to fill the room. “Please, have a seat.” Knox watched as the doctor sat in a large leather chair behind the desk. Knox felt small.
“So tell me what you have.” Get rid of the pleasantries, Knox thought, and maybe he’ll the man will be less intrusively pleasant.
“A man who likes to get down to business. I appreciate that, Mr. Knox.” Strange opened a notebook as Knox sat in a smaller but very comfortable desk chair. “Let me ask you a question. What do you know about the Bat?”
“I think you already know that, Doc. You’ve read my articles.” Knox tried to smile. It didn’t work.
“I know what you’ve written. What have you not written? What have you left out?”
“Nothing. I hear about him, and I write it.”
“What about speculation? You don’t try to peek under his mask.”
“Kinda hard to do when he won’t give interviews.”
“Surely a man of your insight has a guess about the man.” At this point Strange stopped looking at Knox and looked at a notebook. Knox kept talking.
“I know what he’s not. He’s not a human bat. He’s not a Superman. He’s a crimefighter with a lot of toys and a goofy costume that isn’t that goofy in the right light, and he probably a bit weird, but he’s also the first sign of hope in Gotham in ages, and that’s all I have.” Which Knox might admit under other circumstances, wasn’t much to know about a public figure.
“And why do you think he wears the costume?”
“To scare the bejesus out of the crooks. You didn’t grow up here, Doc. The bad guys in Gotham, from Grissom all the way down, they aren’t scared of anything. Or weren’t. Ask the honest cops, or Gordon about that.”
“I have talked to Gordon.” Which was a surprise to Knox. “He says he thinks Batman means well, and is certainly welcome here, but that the costume is just a gimmick. Just a way to get people’s attention.” Gordon knew this guy, Knox wondered. Why would Gordon talk to him in the first place? And would Gordon tell the truth?
“It does that alright. But if you really want to know what I think, Doc, it’s all about the fright. Crooks scare easily.
“Yes, I believe that we could say they are a cowardly lot. Even a bit superstitious. Bats do make for bad omens.”
“You mind if I take some notes, Doc?” Knox liked that notion.
“I am being interviewed, Mister Knox. I would expect it.”
“Yeah. Right.” Knox was off his game. Strange was unsettling without any bat ears.
“What I think is truly noteworthy, truly newsworthy, however, is what the costume tells us about the man. There are other ways to intimidate. Even in Gotham. Batman’s choice of method speaks to something deeper.” Strange rose and began to pace the room.
“Do you know about the power of masks, Mister Knox? Without his mask, he is an ordinary man. One with great resources, maybe, but just a man. But under the mask, he is liberated.
”He can do anything he wants, without retribution, not only from the law but from within. I suspect he hides much. There is probably a very deep reason he hunts the criminals this way, and the mask allows him to act as he wishes.
“Why else would he be a bat?” There was a pause, as though Strange wanted Knox to provide the answer.
“Bats are creepy.”
“Bats are hunters, Mister Knox. Bats are predators. And yes, they are scary. Think about how we regard them. Bats were scary long before the legend of the vampire was grafted to them. They come out at night. They are homely.
“They are feared. And now he is a bat. Do you understand?” Strange’s voice had taken on an intensity that was beginning to unnerve Knox.
“Yeah. He likes to wear masks. Not that that’s any of my business.” Knox smirked as he usually did when he’s losing control of an interview.
“Mister Knox, you clearly do not understand. The mask is a totem, a symbol, a new face. It grants him power. Freedom. He is no mere crimefighter. He has no rules. He kills. He grabs a city that has been broken for years and makes it work at he sees fit!
“And you, with your so-called skill as a reporter, you see what is obvious and cannot understand. That is why you are here. You will understand now. You will tell the city, tell its people and its leaders, what makes this man so dangerous.” The thing Knox loves about being a crime reporter is that criminals are so rarely crazy. Some can be, the occasional serial killer or rapist, but most are just out to make a dollar. Men with “vision”, the politicians and the professors and the men like Hugo Strange, they stay far away form Knox.
And at this very moment, Knox was wishing he could say as much.
“Dangerous? Well, yeah, he’s going to be that way. He’s not playing golf, after all.”
Strange sat back down, and shook his head slowly. “And after he stops the criminals? What then? Does he fly to Panama and arrest Noriega? Or kill him as well? Does he overthrow the mayor, or the president? You need to know this. In that mask, he is no longer human. Only with the mask stripped away are we safe.”
“You’re nuts, Doc, “ Knox blurted out. He knew where this was going, and kept heading there. “Yeah, he’s weird in that outfit. And maybe you’re right that if he didn’t dress that way, he’d be held back a bit more. But you’ve never talked to him anymore than I have. You’re just making him into a boogeyman.”
“Mister Knox,” Strange said slowly, struggling to keep his temper in check, “you are a reporter. I am a respected psychiatrist. I did not have to contact you, or anyone in the press. If I wanted to, I could have merely written a paper or given a lecture. What I tell you in crucial. And for you to dismiss it out of hand as if you know what a madman truly is…” He took a breathe.
“I should end this interview until you can absorb the truth. But I will tell you one more thing. Perhaps out of fairness, so that when another reporter uses the information, you cannot say you did not have the chance first.
“I intend to unmask him!”
Knox goes slack-jawed. “I should go. You’re an idiot as well as a kook. Batman is the only thing keeping this city together. Get rid of him, and the mobs come back tomorrow.”
“I would rather take my chances with them. And surely you have wondered about the man under the mask, haven’t you?”
Yes. “No. He’s Batman, and that’s all that counts.” Knox had thought this more than once, but with the notion that Batman could be unmasked, he found himself wondering if maybe this was one story he really couldn’t resist.
“I will figure it out. Something drove him to this. And he must have money.”
“Or connections. For all you know, he’s a hired man, a former bodyguard for Wayne or Schreck or Lee Iacocca in a new line of work.”
“Maybe. But it seems unlikely.” By now, Knox had given up on taking notes. There would be no story here. Yet. “He is someone. Someone with much to lose. Someone who is covering his tracks but must leave tracks in the end. And I will be there when the trail ends, without your help.” “The heavyset man got up. “Please excuse me if I do not see you out.” Knox took the hint and took his leave.
Out on the cold streets, it was snowing again. Knox didn’t notice. He tore the pages of his notepad and almost threw them away. Only his reporter’s instinct stopped. He knew that the story he wanted was gone. But was there another story here? One that could be very important, and very risky to follow?
Knox shivered. It wasn’t from the cold.
[ooc: inspired by Doug Moench and Paul Gulacy's Batman story, "Prey"]
“Ah. Mr. Knox, I presume?” The Austrian accent echoed as Strange, a bit on the large side but wearing a perfectly tailored suit, entered and seemed to fill the room. “Please, have a seat.” Knox watched as the doctor sat in a large leather chair behind the desk. Knox felt small.
“So tell me what you have.” Get rid of the pleasantries, Knox thought, and maybe he’ll the man will be less intrusively pleasant.
“A man who likes to get down to business. I appreciate that, Mr. Knox.” Strange opened a notebook as Knox sat in a smaller but very comfortable desk chair. “Let me ask you a question. What do you know about the Bat?”
“I think you already know that, Doc. You’ve read my articles.” Knox tried to smile. It didn’t work.
“I know what you’ve written. What have you not written? What have you left out?”
“Nothing. I hear about him, and I write it.”
“What about speculation? You don’t try to peek under his mask.”
“Kinda hard to do when he won’t give interviews.”
“Surely a man of your insight has a guess about the man.” At this point Strange stopped looking at Knox and looked at a notebook. Knox kept talking.
“I know what he’s not. He’s not a human bat. He’s not a Superman. He’s a crimefighter with a lot of toys and a goofy costume that isn’t that goofy in the right light, and he probably a bit weird, but he’s also the first sign of hope in Gotham in ages, and that’s all I have.” Which Knox might admit under other circumstances, wasn’t much to know about a public figure.
“And why do you think he wears the costume?”
“To scare the bejesus out of the crooks. You didn’t grow up here, Doc. The bad guys in Gotham, from Grissom all the way down, they aren’t scared of anything. Or weren’t. Ask the honest cops, or Gordon about that.”
“I have talked to Gordon.” Which was a surprise to Knox. “He says he thinks Batman means well, and is certainly welcome here, but that the costume is just a gimmick. Just a way to get people’s attention.” Gordon knew this guy, Knox wondered. Why would Gordon talk to him in the first place? And would Gordon tell the truth?
“It does that alright. But if you really want to know what I think, Doc, it’s all about the fright. Crooks scare easily.
“Yes, I believe that we could say they are a cowardly lot. Even a bit superstitious. Bats do make for bad omens.”
“You mind if I take some notes, Doc?” Knox liked that notion.
“I am being interviewed, Mister Knox. I would expect it.”
“Yeah. Right.” Knox was off his game. Strange was unsettling without any bat ears.
“What I think is truly noteworthy, truly newsworthy, however, is what the costume tells us about the man. There are other ways to intimidate. Even in Gotham. Batman’s choice of method speaks to something deeper.” Strange rose and began to pace the room.
“Do you know about the power of masks, Mister Knox? Without his mask, he is an ordinary man. One with great resources, maybe, but just a man. But under the mask, he is liberated.
”He can do anything he wants, without retribution, not only from the law but from within. I suspect he hides much. There is probably a very deep reason he hunts the criminals this way, and the mask allows him to act as he wishes.
“Why else would he be a bat?” There was a pause, as though Strange wanted Knox to provide the answer.
“Bats are creepy.”
“Bats are hunters, Mister Knox. Bats are predators. And yes, they are scary. Think about how we regard them. Bats were scary long before the legend of the vampire was grafted to them. They come out at night. They are homely.
“They are feared. And now he is a bat. Do you understand?” Strange’s voice had taken on an intensity that was beginning to unnerve Knox.
“Yeah. He likes to wear masks. Not that that’s any of my business.” Knox smirked as he usually did when he’s losing control of an interview.
“Mister Knox, you clearly do not understand. The mask is a totem, a symbol, a new face. It grants him power. Freedom. He is no mere crimefighter. He has no rules. He kills. He grabs a city that has been broken for years and makes it work at he sees fit!
“And you, with your so-called skill as a reporter, you see what is obvious and cannot understand. That is why you are here. You will understand now. You will tell the city, tell its people and its leaders, what makes this man so dangerous.” The thing Knox loves about being a crime reporter is that criminals are so rarely crazy. Some can be, the occasional serial killer or rapist, but most are just out to make a dollar. Men with “vision”, the politicians and the professors and the men like Hugo Strange, they stay far away form Knox.
And at this very moment, Knox was wishing he could say as much.
“Dangerous? Well, yeah, he’s going to be that way. He’s not playing golf, after all.”
Strange sat back down, and shook his head slowly. “And after he stops the criminals? What then? Does he fly to Panama and arrest Noriega? Or kill him as well? Does he overthrow the mayor, or the president? You need to know this. In that mask, he is no longer human. Only with the mask stripped away are we safe.”
“You’re nuts, Doc, “ Knox blurted out. He knew where this was going, and kept heading there. “Yeah, he’s weird in that outfit. And maybe you’re right that if he didn’t dress that way, he’d be held back a bit more. But you’ve never talked to him anymore than I have. You’re just making him into a boogeyman.”
“Mister Knox,” Strange said slowly, struggling to keep his temper in check, “you are a reporter. I am a respected psychiatrist. I did not have to contact you, or anyone in the press. If I wanted to, I could have merely written a paper or given a lecture. What I tell you in crucial. And for you to dismiss it out of hand as if you know what a madman truly is…” He took a breathe.
“I should end this interview until you can absorb the truth. But I will tell you one more thing. Perhaps out of fairness, so that when another reporter uses the information, you cannot say you did not have the chance first.
“I intend to unmask him!”
Knox goes slack-jawed. “I should go. You’re an idiot as well as a kook. Batman is the only thing keeping this city together. Get rid of him, and the mobs come back tomorrow.”
“I would rather take my chances with them. And surely you have wondered about the man under the mask, haven’t you?”
Yes. “No. He’s Batman, and that’s all that counts.” Knox had thought this more than once, but with the notion that Batman could be unmasked, he found himself wondering if maybe this was one story he really couldn’t resist.
“I will figure it out. Something drove him to this. And he must have money.”
“Or connections. For all you know, he’s a hired man, a former bodyguard for Wayne or Schreck or Lee Iacocca in a new line of work.”
“Maybe. But it seems unlikely.” By now, Knox had given up on taking notes. There would be no story here. Yet. “He is someone. Someone with much to lose. Someone who is covering his tracks but must leave tracks in the end. And I will be there when the trail ends, without your help.” “The heavyset man got up. “Please excuse me if I do not see you out.” Knox took the hint and took his leave.
Out on the cold streets, it was snowing again. Knox didn’t notice. He tore the pages of his notepad and almost threw them away. Only his reporter’s instinct stopped. He knew that the story he wanted was gone. But was there another story here? One that could be very important, and very risky to follow?
Knox shivered. It wasn’t from the cold.
[ooc: inspired by Doug Moench and Paul Gulacy's Batman story, "Prey"]
