The Board of Directors refused to fund Arkham's renovation project, much to Jonathan's frustration.

He was more irritated that they only sent a vague letter by post stating they were sorry, but the funds could not be arranged. As a result, he was seething internally, but he couldn't afford to let his anger show.

He wanted to tear that wretched piece of paper to shreds, his foot colliding with the desk in frustration. Finally, he set fire to that letter, putting the flames out and throwing the ash in the dustbin.

Hands clutching at the edge of his desk, he hung his head, thinking about what he could do next.

He could see that the only way left was to turn to that option he had kept as a last resort, and it bothered him to his wit's end. But he couldn't leave all that work going on in Arkham in the middle. He had to prove a point and show those lazy directors that he could manage it all alone, even without their help.

Taking a deep breath to recollect his thoughts, he picked up a paper from the scanner that he had drafted in case he had to take emergency measures. Then, he packed his briefcase and checked that nothing was out of place.

The Board's refusal pushed him to the last resort, and they would be responsible for the consequences, not him. But all those thoughts were empty words as he knew what he was planning required much more from him and would put him directly at risk.

At last, making up his mind, he left his office.

"Mister Hanson," he said as he passed by the reception desk, the stern voice instantly pulling the man out of his budgeting task. "I have to leave on an urgent case. Arkham is in your hands."

"Everything alright, Doctor Crane?" He asked, noticing that instead of calling him by first name as he usually did, he was quite stiff.

"Not exactly. I will be back late. Don't let anyone go to the basement and wind up the construction on the third floor."

Miguel watched him leave and then went back to his tasks. He had seen Jonathan get increasingly stressed with every passing day, but as he left in haste right then, it seemed he had thought how to end all that anguish.

True enough, Jonathan had thought very thoroughly about what he intended to do next.

He was going to meet Carmine Falcone, the most powerful crime lord in Gotham, whom even deadly criminals feared.

Falcone had been singlehandedly controlling the city's black market and drug supply. He had established a strong monopoly in Gotham such that no authority could lay a hand on him or his men.

But with the recently appointed Police Commissioner and his operation against crime, he was under the radar. He needed help, and that was exactly what Jonathan would offer him in return for some investment in Arkham.

It was a shady business, and he knew very well that if he messed up, it would have worse consequences that even he couldn't think of a way out of.

After a thorough inspection, Jonathan was ushered into the nightclub operated by Falcone's gang. He stood stiff in irritation as he watched them check his suitcase for assurance that he hadn't brought any weapons along. Then, after the security team was satisfied, they escorted him in.

It didn't take him long to spot the crime lord sitting on his throne, two armed bodyguards on each side.

Coward, whispered a voice in his head, but he kept his expression neutral.

"Doctor Crane? To what do I owe the pleasure?" The man gestured to him to take a seat, dismissing the guards who had escorted him in.

"I have come forth with a proposition." He stated calmly, observing each expression on the older man's face. "I have heard some of your men will be tried in the city court soon. Namely Victor Zsasz and his accomplices."

"They are not my men. At least not anymore."

The reply was guarded, a silent warning for Crane to back off. But he was in no mood to give up easily.

"Mister Falcone, it will be near impossible to remove your connection to Zsasz, even if you have most of the investigating officers on your payroll. The methods of interrogation have long improved since the usual third degree. No matter how loyal your men may be," Jonathan suggested calmly, "Lie detectors and the like make it much easier to spill."

"Why exactly are you telling me this?" Falcone asked, his eyes focused on him cautiously.

"If I were you, I would have taken a different approach."

"But the truth is that you are not me. I instill fear in the hearts of every man and woman living in this city. You, on the other hand, are just a loony in charge of the nut house."

Jonathan stayed calm, a derisive smile creasing his features. He had interlaced his fingers and leaned closer as if what Falcone said was highly amusing to him, but the flicker in his eyes betrayed the indignation within.

He did not instill fear in people, at least not yet, but the time wasn't far when the crime lord would have to chew back his own words.

"If your men are declared insane by a state trusted professional, it will save you the millions worth of bribes you are already feeding to the authorities," he remarked, then added in a saccharine tone, "But of course, I am not you, Sir. You would know better."

Falcone paused as if what he had said held merit, "Declared insane, as in?"

"A danger to the society but more so themselves, a constant victim of psychosis, probably even a convict on suicide watch. The possibilities are endless. However, you don't seem interested, so I must take my leave."

He picked up his suitcase and was about to leave, but the crime lord stopped him. "Settle down, Doctor. You have wasted enough of my time already, and it better be with good reason. Tell me, how would you get me out of this Zsasz situation?"

Jonathan concealed a slight smile, knowing the ball was in his court. "Simple. You can ask Zsasz's lawyer to request a psychological evaluation upon the next court hearing. The rest depends on me."

As Arkham was the only institution dealing with mental health at a federal level in Gotham, it was understood that Jonathan would be directly involved in any legal matters. That gave him immense power to decide the fates of those convicted, and Carmine Falcone was also beginning to realize that.

"And what would you need in return?"

"Just a little goodwill towards the nut house, as you so eloquently stated," he minced his words, but the smile on his face didn't waver.

"Goodwill?"

He elaborated, "Financial investment. After all, we will be housing your men and ensuring their safe lodgings for as long as the trial commences and afterward as well, if need be."

Falcone considered his words, thinking about the situation thoroughly, "What guarantee do I have that you will not turn your back on me at the last minute?"

He held his gaze steadily, not flinching in the face of the man who was the greatest threat in the city of crime. "You have my word, Mister Falcone, that I will see this through to the end. My reputation and the future of Arkham depend on it."

He stroked his chin, contemplating Jonathan's proposal thoroughly. If he agreed, the procedure would be legal, and his associates would not have to be carted off to Blackgate Prison. Arkham was already a rundown place and out of most legal bindings. It would be easier for his men to escape from there than from Blackgate.

Falcone studied him for a long moment, weighing the risks and benefits. Finally, he nodded slowly. "Very well, Doctor Crane. You've piqued my interest. What investment do you have in mind?"

"I'm currently conducting a renovation project in Arkham. It is in the final stages but I need a substantial amount to take it to completion."

He passed him a written agreement that he had drafted in his office before approaching the crime lord.

"You will find all the necessary details in black and white. Despite the nature of our deal, I prefer keeping it as legible as possible."

Falcone's eyes skimmed over the text, and then he whispered something to the guard on his right, who disappeared, returning shortly with a lanky young man in glasses.

Jonathan knew that man was his lawyer. He had already run a background check on all of Falcone's trusted accomplices. He watched him take the document with extreme caution, placing it in his folder.

"You will hear from me soon, Doctor," Falcone remarked, dismissing the lawyer. "But remember, if you try to double-cross me, there will be consequences."

"You have full right to exercise legal action against me in that case, hence the written contract," Jonathan added smoothly, eyes flickering to the lawyer who had retreated into the shadows before fastening with Falcone's in an unwavering glance. "So, do we have a deal?"

"Very well then. We have a deal."

At that moment, Jonathan finally allowed himself a small, triumphant smile. "Excellent. I'm sure we'll both find this arrangement to be mutually beneficial."

***