The little girl walked sat on the couch in, her eyes bloodshot, her cheeks puffy. The rogues, all but one in particular, looked at her with pity. They all clearly see the bruises on her little arms and other physical signs of abuse, but they don't know what to do. She sits there crying, head in her hands, not knowing what to do. She's only five years old.
"Vera, will you stop acting so immature? Stop crying." Jonathan Crane snapped harshly at her.
Vera looked up, her eyes still red as more tears washed down her face. It's uncontrollable. She's only five.
"Sorry, Daddy." Her words are shaky and thick with grief.
"Don't call me that." Jonathan said, getting up and walking towards the crying girl. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"
Vera cowered in fear away from her father as he walked menacingly toward her. Two Face took pity on her and tried to intervene before Jonathan could hurt her. Out of the rogues, Two Face was the closest to Vera. She was the daughter he never had.
"Crane, don't." he said from his seat.
Jonathan turned and sneered at him and turned back to his whimpering daughter. Two face got up and stood between them.
"That's enough, Crane."
His words held power and authority. Jonathan was no physical match for Harvey/Two Face. He stalked back to his seat fuming. Harvey sat down next to Vera and held her in his arms, trying to calm her down. Jonathan watched, absolutely livid. Hate burned in his eyes.
After he had had enough, he walked briskly towards Vera, grabbed her arm, and dragged her away from Harvey. He dragged her with an iron grip out of the room.
From outside, all they could hear were the child's fearful screams. She was at the mercy of her heartless father and his alter ego, Scarecrow. No one could help her now.
"Daddy, no!"
