capeandcowllogs | you're a chemical that burns

Entry tags:

you're a chemical that burns

WHO: NORMAN OSBORN, FREDERICK CHILTON, DANGER
WHERE: NOHoPE
WHEN: Friday, 10/4
WARNINGS: ????
SUMMARY: Job interviews + introductions are in order.
FORMAT: Whatever!

It isn't every day that Norman's at NOHoPE, not only because he doesn't need to be because he really does, sincerely, have other things to worry about most days. He's capable of doing his job remotely most of the time, but the reason he does go in as often as he does -- usually two or three times per week -- is to assert his control, remind Danger who's really in charge.

Today, of course, there's another objective. It's been a while since he's gotten to conduct an interview here, and he wasn't about to miss the opportunity. It annoys him greatly when Danger hires doctors without his approval, and though he expects her to be present today he fully intends to make his decision independent of her input. Besides, it has been a while since the hospital had an imPort Chief of Staff, which is ultimately preferable. As unreliable as imPorts can be with their comings and goings, having imPort staff meant there was less friction than when local employees might try to wrest power from the facility. Sure, it was open to imPorts and locals alike. That didn't mean they had any real right to it.

He waits in his office, telling the receptionist to send Dr. Frederick Chilton in once he arrives.

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A quick, sharp inhalation played prelude to the light knuckle-rapping against the thickly wooden door leading to the interior of Mr. Osborn's office. He insisted that the receptionist would not physically introduce him into the room -- that sort of passivity simply set a faulted tenor, one soured by wilted intent. No, he was firm in his dismissal, well aware that the receptionist had already called in his arrival via intercom communications.

It was a safely seized risk, to allow his own being into Norman Osborn's office. After having been invited and announced.

With one wistful eyesoak, he admired the exterior door to the office. His own, back home, was black with golden inlay paint -- quite a contrast to the cold grey marble lining elsewhere in his hospital. Chilton needed to possess such things again.

He deeply needed this position.

"Mr. Osborn," he said by way of beaming greeting; two words sufficiently slimed in the tone of a sycophant.

Sitting at his desk, Norman folded his hands together over the small pile of papers that rested in front of him as Dr. Chilton entered the room. He didn't mind the initiative, in fact what a person did when faced with a closed door could say quite a bit about them.

Not that it was a test. Just an observation. When Chilton entered Norman stood, a careful and thin smile in place as he offered his hand.

"Glad you could make it," he said, tone chilled and expression neutral. "You're right on time. Danger should be shortly and we can begin the tour of the facility -- if you'd like to take a seat in the meantime be my guest."

He gestured.

The knock that came next was heavier, a precise rhythm of three more meant to announce her presence than to seek permission to enter. There was only a brief pause before the door handle turned and clicked open, allowing a woman into the room. She was unusually tall-- but that was hardly the strangest thing about her, not with her wild hair, all blue braids and untamed dreadlocks down her back, and those eyes, pupil-less white made all the more dramatic by almost tribal markings streaked down her cheeks.

This woman-- this strange, striking woman-- quietly shut the door behind her. She didn't move to take a seat or approach the desk, only lingering by the entry with her arms loosely folding over her chest. The heavy weight of her stare found Norman first, resting on him a moment with some sort of vague displeasure before moving onto their guest.

When she spoke, her voice was soft, controlled, and precise on every syllable.

"I assume this is Dr. Chilton."

"You assume correctly, in this case." Chilton tilted his head in Danger's direction, acknowledging her before even glancing over. The seat he had assumed before Norman's desk didn't impact well upon new visitors -- as he turned in his seat, his anchoring hand tightened around the chair's arm. If we was perturbed by her pupil-lacking eyes (sightless, he might call them, even if that empirically wasn't the case), he uttered no verbal denotation of it.

Chilton was a man used to gruesome, broken psychopaths. He was a man who appreciated order and control -- but usually from his own hand. It was a different experience, watching those two qualities embodied in Danger. His gaze slid back over to Norman, as he eased himself into this brisk new territory. Chilton recalled what Tony Stark had said (through implication, of course): Norman Osborn could be both administrator and patient.

That was a type of control Chilton was unused to.

"Then, shall we begin?"

Danger's arrival was only slightly surprising in that Norman had expected her in her usual state; cold, robotic, imposing. Better this way, though, in his opinion. He didn't feel she should have more a presence than he did, blue hair and pupil-less eyes aside.

"Nice of you to join us, Danger," he said curtly, before rubbing his hands together and straightening his shoulders. He inclined his head toward Chilton, gesturing slowly to the door. "Let's indeed begin. We can ask -- and answer -- questions along the way, you may as well get a look at the place."

He opened the door, indicating that they both should step out first.

"Do either of you have questions before we begin?"

She obliges Norman, stepping out into the hallway ahead of the two men-- but her cooperation aside, something unwelcoming remains in her demeanor. Even in this body, as convincingly mortal as she seems, something distant and aloof remains, some remnant of that cold steel that has translated into a passive, alien face. An inhuman quality lingers, and if she is aware of it, she makes no effort to conceal it.

"Are you inviting my inquiries, Mr. Osborn?" Her voice hardly inflects at all, steady despite it lack of that mechanical hum. "I was not under the impression that I would have any influence in Dr. Chilton's hiring."

There it is, a first glimpse of Danger's dynamic with Norman Osborn for the good doctor. The tension, perhaps a hint of resentment thinly veiled in an obedience bred only from a respect for order.

His spine beckoned upwards, signaling his unperturbed interest. While Chilton was a psychiatrist deeply wanting for empathy and moral integrity, he more than made up his share in observational and analytical skills. Needless to say -- he found the subtle spectacle enlightening. Danger had, in their own singular conversation, rejected the very construct of authority that Chilton had pushed, and here she was again to challenge Osborn's authority. It proved a common theme for her, from his empirical data, that she did not fancy the dominance of a (perhaps specifically male?) authoritarian.

Father issues, he wondered. Or "creator" issues? Worth looking into, if it gave him an edge over the shockingly competent Danger.

"Is it so much an influence?" Chilton spoke up, biting into the tension with his icicle smile. "Or is your audience -- " he glanced at Norman. "More demonstrative?"

It was a nuanced siding with Osborn. Hannibal had warned Chilton to respect Danger's territory, which made his present poking all the more addictive. Chilton, in his own self-consuming way, wanted to see what would happen.

The smirk was already growing on Norman's mouth before Chilton spoke, but once he did it sharpened, skin and lips tight. He managed not to laugh, tempting as it briefly was.

"Inquiries, not necessarily input, Danger," Norman said amiably enough, for how patronizing it was. As he led them down the hallway past the offices toward the medical facilities, he glanced from one of them to the other, wondering how much a spark of competition he was feeling. Tempting to keep an eye on.

"But since you're here for the interview process you may as well participate," he added, gesturing outwardly with his hand. "I may have the hiring power here, but I'm sure Dr. Chilton here will be interested in knowing the routines here. I'm not interested in wasting my own time running him through the day shifts. Though--" Norman looked at Chilton. "You may already know some of the basics, given your experience."

She glanced over her shoulder at the two men in her company as she walked, eyes narrowing faintly at the way both of them showed her their teeth. Danger offered no similar expression in return, no smile however insincere or threatening. Her mouth only turned down ever so slightly at the corners, a faint betrayal of her displeasure that was would not have been so readily visible in her mechanical form.

"Dr. Chilton's prior experience is acknowledged. However, as you well know, Mr. Osborn, I have a particular method for daily operations here that I expect all new employees to abide by to the final letter." Her voice had a sharp, crisp edge despite its softness-- like the whisper-thin blade of a knife. "As this is not the standard facility Dr. Chilton has likely experienced, I would not suggest giving him the inaccurate notion that he has any basis for assumption."

A brief pause, as she looked at Chilton pointedly, giving him the weight of her attention.

"For your own safety, of course, Doctor."

"Safety first," he replied, the tip of his tongue licking the venom from his teeth. The smile he showcased to Norman was far brighter, far more winning. He leaned forward slightly, and to his left, as if sharing a confidence that was in actuality and explicitly for the benefit of the whole room -- but the hospital's founder was Chilton's target demographic.

"I'm very aware of the inherent risks that patients pose, both to themselves and to the staff. I had been, in fact, taken to here when only recently a fatal incident happened at my prior hospital of employment." Chilton took a deep breath, his gaze downcast -- as if thoughtful, as if remorseful.

"The current administrator who had also regulated security," he paused to shoot a sidelong glance at Danger, as if casting her into the ill-fitting role. "Found comfort in routine. He underestimated a wily patient of ours, and a staff nurse died horrifically as result. I was, of course, the only one able to secure the patient back after his mis--" misbehavior, Chilton almost said. "The murder."

He leaned back, away from Norman's personal vicinity, and lifted his shoulders to a sanctimonious epilogue. The curtain dropped, the tale complete.

"Well," he spoke with a bright pitch in his throat. Touring beyond Norman's office offered stimulus. "Shall we begin?"

Edited 2013-10-13 04:59 (UTC)

"Is that so. Well, we run a tighter ship than that. We have to, considering the sorts of patients we get in," Norman said breezily, giving Danger a brief glance. He didn't elaborate on the details of prior incidents except to say: "To date, we haven't lost any of our staff to murder."

Norman then looked at Chilton, still smiling, though there was a cold reserve in his gaze.

"Yes, obviously you will be useful to some extent, Danger. Don't worry. I'll ensure if he's hired Dr. Chilton spends a shift in your care brushing up on the procedures. Why don't you give him a preview? Just the basics, of course. Before we head any deeper into the den of the beast. What would you like to see first, doctor?"

Danger offered no interruption during this exchange. As much as the subtle antagonism irritated her, there was no shaking the confidence she had in her fortress of an asylum. She was not the type to make the same mistake more than once-- as young a being as she was, the warden was in parts both ruthless and calculating. Her distinct distaste for authoritative male figures aside, she had every intention of protecting Chilton to the last hair on his head while he walked the halls of what she considered to be her domain.

When prompted to speak, she offered no acknowledgement in her body language-- neither a glance nor pause-- but it was difficult to say if she meant it as a purposeful gesture of disdain towards Norman's suggestion, or if it was simply a habit of mechanical existence that had translated. Still, it was aloof and a bit clinical when she finally answered.

"Our facility is secured by various fingerprint and voice identification technologies. Nearly every inch is monitored by some variety of security device, including cameras and motion sensors. Our lockdown procedure includes energy forcefields as a safety measure against superpowered subjects, and our human staff is supplemented by mechanical droids." Her voice hardly inflected at all as she spoke. But then she paused, letting her words become more precise, more purposeful, as if to emphasize the importance of what she said next, "Ultimately, it would serve Dr. Chilton to understand that I am aware of everything here, and that there is always someone watching."

Chilton barely bit back his smirk, just as he shrugged his shoulders in some offer of interest. Following the other two in step, the newly minted imPort kept a keen eye on the proceedings -- his inquisition over the (apparently acidic) relationship between his company aside, the scope of NOHoPe prickled his intellectual yearnings. The consistency of the structure was quite literally science fiction born flesh to him, and with each footprint did Chilton fantasy about the control such a hospital offered.

"You're formidable in your detail, Danger," he said. The warm smile he offered radiated towards her only incidentally -- it was the grandeur of pristine structure that he graced with sincere teeth. Danger herself was the most obvious obstacle before his own specific ambition; she understood the value of control as he did, and it was not something he craved sympathy for. With each turn of the tour, he grew to consider her his most immediate rival.

"So -- have you ever had an escape? I ask only for comparative measure, you see, whilst our patient loosened his collar enough to commit a murder, he never actually stepped outside our facility, while he was under my direct custody," he said, his eyes resting on Norman.

Those last seven words meant a world of difference, but the fact remained: Gideon had escaped his transit vehicle. Not Chilton's hospital.

Indeed, everything about the hospital spoke to meticulous control and immaculate efficiency especially now that the renovations had finished. The hallways stretched, stark and bright, the floors shining regardless of how many feet had stepped over them. Norman's smile only grew, hearing the two of them banter tensely.

"She's good at that," Norman said, because it was the sort of compliment he suffered no consequence giving. She was good at the routine, yes, conveniently one of the things Norman himself required no involvement in. His lips tensed slightly, one eyebrow raising in Chilton's direction.

"Dr. Chilton," he began, voice calm though curt. "I think you should keep your questions relevant to the present, not the past. This building is designed against escape. No one's getting out that we don't want out."

Norman spared her having to answer Chilton's inquiry-- a small mercy, maybe. The escapes that had happened in the past, though few in number, spoke to her competence, and the idea of exposing her mistakes in this setting sat poorly with her. The last thing she needed was to give their new Chief-of-Staff more reasons to undermine her. In truth, for all her capabilities, she was still a young and inexperienced creature-- and proud too, maybe worst of all.

So, for once, she let Norman's word reign without challenge. Instead, when she finally spoke, she only offered a simple comment, the sincerity of which was difficult to properly judge.

"I am certain that between myself and Dr. Chilton, such compromises of our security will not be an issue."

He grinned at her, allowing his silence to bespoke some agreement. Between them. The implication of teamwork and professional motivation -- a fine path to stroll along these padded walls. He inclined his head, his gaze moving from her own refulgent stare.

Still unused to the lack of pupils.

Chilton's ear prickled at Norman's explanation, noting carefully the words unspoken.

"Why, Mr. Osborn," he began, his drawl audacious. "I can tell that is quite the PR worthy rhetoric." It was a risk, flashing his tongue like that, but he didn't want his company to think he wasn't aware of the dual conversation in motion, here. Who, he wondered, did Norman think unworthy of his institution? Anyone who escaped, perhaps? But provoking the past was an endeavor rarely rewarded by people like Norman Osborn. Chilton folded his hands behind his back, keeping quiet as he ticked off his suspicions about his company: Narcissistic, anti-social, domineering. Norman Osborn. Control complex, defensive, seemingly obsessive. Danger.

Chilton thought himself the sanest being in his present company.

"And what is your institutions relationship with the local authorities? I consulted rather closely with the FBI in my own world."

When they came to a fork in the hallway, Norman stopped and regarded them both with a withdrawn but slightly judgmental look. His feet severed the cusp between their part of the hallway and the medical wing beyond, toes pointed forward. The walls gleamed as white as his teeth did.

Even when the air was quiet, it echoed with implication that was lost on none of them. At least Dr. Chilton caught on quick, even if also in ways Norman didn't want him to. Psychiatrists.

"I don't expect it to be. I oversaw all the renovations myself; not even Houdini could breach our systems. If anyone did I'd expect them to be the goddamn messiah himself," Norman said, his sneer curling a little at the corner. He put his hands on his hips, looking from the two of them -- though he lingered on Chilton for a moment, almost suspiciously -- to survey the halls from where he stood.

"I'm a businessman, Chilton," he added, his eyes narrowing a sliver. "PR is what I do. That doesn't mean it's insincere. The authorities have to work with us, however much they may complain. The institution is actually just outside the city lines, but it's all official. They just don't trust imPorts to know how to handle imPorts."

The line of Danger's mouth tightened slightly as their company came to a pause in the hallway. She had been exuding an air of impatience to begin with-- but especially now, with the way she folded her arms over her chest, leaning her weight to one hip and tilting her head ever so slightly up. Perhaps it was simply that she disliked setting aside her routine duties for this meeting. Or maybe it was something more personal-- a deep-seated dislike of men like them. Patriarchal authority figures. Controlling and deceptive types, in her experience.

"There is a mutual recognition of jurisdiction between ourselves and the native law enforcement, trust aside. You may find that employment here often entails working relationships where it is necessary to prioritize function over trust," she remarked somewhat pointedly.

This was not an institution run by friends.

"Function over trust." Chilton's tongue tip poked out, caressing the left corner of his mouth. His smirk cut a predatory shape. "How endearingly pragmatic. It's an angle most of humanity would quiver to consider."

Again, reinforcing that human element, however cloaked in self-deprecation it might appear. One of the more fluid elements, shapeshifting under that inventive cloaking devices -- rhetoric. Having introduced that hue of suggestion, he nodded at Norman, accepting the other man's response with a crisp smile.

He had noted the drop of doctor from the address our of Norman's mouth. It seared like rival knight across a chessboard.

"How do the power dampeners work precisely?" He shrugged, downplaying his craving interest. "That's what most of the populace seemed concerned about, the power dampeners. Something to forestall anyone with Houdini-like phasing abilities, I hope?"

"That it may be, but we benefit off the fact they have no choice. All of us benefit," Norman said smoothly, his smile sharpening once more in restrained smugness. One war won, a fact Norman took ample pride in. Not because of any will to help, but because he had won.

He adjusted his tie, nodding in emphasis and in agreement to Danger's input. No matter what the "law" felt about it, they had already staked and maintained their claim.

"Of course. Neglecting phasing would be a pretty big oversight. We have dampeners in the walls and dampeners in the medication; offensive and defensive. Patients of course experience the full weight of both barrels, but we can't ignore the visitors, either."

She was, truthfully, somewhat disinterested in participating in the conversation at hand. Perhaps it was simply her bias against these men, but there was something disingenuous behind the words that had begun to slowly and progressively agitate her. It was small talk, laced in venom. Manipulative. And while she'd never shied from using deception as a tactic against humans, she was particularly resentful of it as a tactic against her.

She kept her silence. Only the slight tension in her face betrayed her impatience and displeasure. But Danger offered nothing towards the conversation. She would leave the posturing to the humans.

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you're a chemical that burns

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