When he returned to the interrogation room, only Shiller was left, he didn't let Gordon and Batman follow him.
At this ti, Cobblepot had been dried off and his drenched coat has been taken off. Mrs. Mona was just closing the interrogation room door. Seeing Shiller, she said, "Are you a doctor, sir? The boy seems to be severely frightened. I tried to change his clothes earlier, but he struggled fiercely and almost bit ."
"Thank you, ma'am. You've done enough. He's a bit agitated right now and I'm going to take him to the hospital."
"You better hurry then. He seems tired, so he shouldn't resist as much anymore."
Shiller entered the room, where Cobblepot sat in a corner, wearing a new coat, remaining silent. Shiller called Brand, saying, "Send an ambulance, we have a patient."
"What kind of patient needs an ambulance? Doesn't he have his own luxury car?"
"A real patient, not those mob bosses who take advantage of dical parole."
"What's the diagnosis? I'll have the caring room prepare."
"Acute stress disorder, perhaps with so other symptoms. Have so sedatives ready and I'll give you a detailed explanation once I'm there."
Soon, Cobblepot was strapped to a stretcher and carried into an ambulance, with Shiller apparently indifferent to his struggles.
Upon his arrival at the hospital, Brand greeted him. Wearing a white lab coat, he seed to have been busy up until now, he said, "Thank God, a real patient at last. I was beginning to think I graduated with a degree in finance..."
"Don't celebrate too soon. What if I told you he's an important witness in the Falcone family inheritance case? Would you still feel relieved?"
Brand's face fell. He muttered a curse, saying, "I knew it. Nothing good ever happens in this damned place."
"He's in a severely agitated state, almost incommunicative. Administer so sedatives to him for now, and we'll see how he is tomorrow morning."
Shiller returned to his office at Arkham ntal Hospital, changed into his doctor's disguise. When he entered Cobblepot's ward, Cobblepot's hands were tied to the rails of the nursing bed, his body still convulsing, his face flushed, his eyes wide open, and he was panting.
A nurse approached him and said, "Doctor, his agitation is so high. We've removed the muscular restrictions. If this continues, it could do serious damage to his joints."
"Administer the sedatives," Shiller said coolly. He bent over to check Cobblepot's eyes, noting how they were completely unfocused, and his face was severely congested.
Shiller called two more nurses, asking them to hold Cobblepot down. Brand also ca in, saying, "I haven't seen a case of acute stress disorder this serious in a long ti. What happened to him?"
Brand examined Cobblepot carefully, noticing so injuries on his neck and shoulders. "Has he been abused?"
"Most likely, and it seems to have been going on for a while. Otherwise, it wouldn't have been this severe," Shiller speculated. "He must have been subjected to prolonged abuse and beating, which led to acute stress disorder."
After the sedatives were administered, Cobblepot's agitation slowly subsided. However, he was still shaking uncontrollably, unable to concentrate. Shiller observed his physiological reaction, saying: "Increase the dose."
With more dication being administered, Cobblepot finally cald down and gradually fell asleep. Brand sighed, saying, "This is not a solution. He seems more sensitive than ordinary people, and he's not even at the age of majority yet. If the sedative wears off and his agitation is not relieved, we can't keep giving him such high doses."
"What are you going to do?" Brand asked Shiller.
"We need to conduct a comprehensive diagnosis and treatnt," Shiller looked at Cobblepot's face and said, "Based on what I've gathered, he may have other ntal health issues. It's not that severe otherwise. A genetic disease might also be a possibility."
"What about his relatives? Isn't there any dical history for us to refer to?"
Brand questioned but imdiately dismissed his own query, "Oh, this is Gotham, finding a real ntal patient here is like finding a needle in a haystack."
Shiller told Brand, "You go and take so rest, I'll be on duty tonight and will also draw a treatnt plan."
After Brand left, Shiller went back to his office. He sat down, took a notebook out of his desk drawer, and started recalling the Penguin Man's life as he knew it.
In the comic, there's not much detailed depiction of the Penguin Man's childhood, just ntioning that he always carries an umbrella because, after the death due to pneumonia following a rainstorm, his increasingly crazy mother insisted he must always carry an umbrella.
In the TV series Gotham, the Penguin Man was also admitted to Arkham Asylum where he was tortured by Warden Hugo. However, there was no detailed explanation regarding whether he was diagnosed with a real ntal illness.
Based on Shiller's observations so far, the Penguin Man Cobblepot he encountered does seem to suffer from a real ntal disorder.
The nights at Arkham ntal Hospital are usually very quiet. Since there aren't many real ntal patients here, there's rarely any commotion caused by patients suddenly becoming ill.
In the entire doctor's office, only Shiller's desk was illuminated. In the quiet room, only the sounds of his writing echoed.
At daybreak, Victor, clad in a trench coat, hurriedly ascended the steps of Arkham ntal Hospital. The rain had just stopped, and his hair flew wildly in the chill wind which lingered beneath the gloomy sky.
Shiller, wearing a white lab coat, ca to greet him. Victor said, "I've just finished my class at Living Hell and heard from that chubby kid that Oswald had been hospitalized."
"Then, I found out you'd also taken leave. So, I guessed you're probably treating him."
"Oh, how did you guess that?"
"Didn't I tell you? I've visited Oswald's house before and t his mother. She seems to have convulsions. I'm no expert, but I could tell her ntal state wasn't quite right."
"That aligns with my inference. Copot likely has inherited ntal disorder," Shiller said as they quickly ascended the stairs. "His acute stress disorder triggered symptoms of excitability. I gave him an overdose of sedative last night, but there's been no improvent this morning."
As he said this, they entered Copot's ward—noticing that Copot was lying in bed, babbling incessantly. The words pouring out of his mouth held no logic—it seed like pure venting.
Victor approached the bedside, looked down at Copot, and said, "This reminds of a student I once had. He'd get overly excited, muttering to himself, showing signs of aggression—he even injured a classmate."
"What are you planning to do?" Victor asked Shiller, "I value his talent. I know there are plenty of ntally ill patients in Gotham who can't be saved. But since he's already here, we must figure out a way."
"I'll admit him to the hospital. Of course, this includes my intention to treat him. But with these mixed symptoms, the causation could be complex. I still need to conduct so investigations."
As they spoke, Brand ca in with a stack of reports, handed them to Shiller, saying, "Earlier today, we gave him a physical examination. Things aren't looking good. Besides the ntal issues, his body has multiple injuries, likely from a beating. Both new and old injuries overlay each other—it appears to have lasted a while."
"As we suspected," Brand concluded. "This is acute stress disorder resulting from severe abuse. This stress state has triggered other ntal illnesses, leading him into an uncontrollable state of extre excitability."
"We'll discuss the specific treatnt for his ntal issues later. Is his physical condition serious?"
"His left ankle has significant damage, and his right arm is fractured. Treating these injuries will take so ti."
"If becos excited again soon, we will not be able to treat his wounds. I also wouldn't recomnd sedating him heavily again. He's too young, his brain may not be able to withstand it."
Shiller rubbed his forehead, saying, "This is a hassle. Can we contact his mother? I'd like to investigate his dical history."
Victor shook his head, responding, "It's difficult. His mother isn't quite sound-minded either. The last ti I went, she nearly chased off with a broom. If you want to investigate, you'd likely have to do it at their house."
"Here's what we'll do..." Shiller finally arranged. "Brand, you deal with his injuries as soon as possible. Victor and I will drop by his house to see what's going on."
After they left, Shiller and Victor sat in the car. Victor, driving, said, "I'm actually quite surprised. I thought you were the kind of doctor... who keeps out of others' affairs."
"You don't have to sugarcoat it. I know, you thought I was soone who wouldn't lift a finger if not properly paid."
Victor coughed awkwardly, and Shiller, in the passenger's seat, placed his umbrella next to him, tightening his coat, and said, "Actually, you're right. Most of the ti, I am like that."
"That said, out of the whole vocational school class, Copot was the only one who could write in a script I could recognize. If he went crazy, the incomprehensible 'dog scratching' script would likely drive insane."
Victor gripped the steering wheel, laughed, and didn't turn his head, saying, "I think you're just a softie at heart, masquerading as an unscrupulous quack. But in reality, you do have a compassionate heart."
"Let repeat, I might be unscrupulous, but I'm definitely not a quack."
The car took several twists and turns, entering a narrow street next to Living Hell. When they got out, Shiller jabbed the gravel road with the pointed end of his umbrella, saying, "I suppose they didn't renovate enough of Living Hell. This place is still so dirty and chaotic."
"It's actually not that bad." Victor looked around, saying, "Before, we couldn't even drive a car here. It's much better now."
The pair entered a dark stairwell, walking up two flights until Victor knocked on the door, asking, "Madam Cobblepot, are you in?"
"Are you sure she will answer you? As far as I know, so ntally ill patients can't take care of themselves."
"She should be able to. When Ms. Copot isn't having an episode, she simply shows signs of convulsions." Victor continued knocking, but there was no response. Victor frowned, saying, "What's going on?"
Receiving no reply, Victor said, "There might be a problem. We'll go to the rooftop on the other side and enter from the balcony. It's the only way."
They looped around the corridor and exited from a door at the end of the hallway on the sa floor, arriving on an outside terrace. After circling around, they climbed onto the neighboring balcony and entered the Copot's balcony.
Then, they saw from the window that Copot Manor was in complete disarray as if a struggle had just taken place. Madam Copot was nowhere to be seen.
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