She'd always been a terrible shot. The teddy bears hanging like stuffed corpses at carnivals were always out of her grasp. Anything that was skill-related was a struggle for her. The 'hook-a-duck' game; the 'shoot-some-hoops' game; especially the game where you hit cans using a rifle. So it was no surprise really that Ada's bullet had pierced through the top of Crane's shoulder and not its desired target.
Ada had shot Crane and he had staggered back, behind his desk, angry screams erupting all around her. In the same instant, four mercenaries had started for her. Reeling in her disheartening failure, Ada had almost completely missed the following peril that occurred.
Guns were aimed at her by angry gun-toting mercs. This was the first thing she comprehended, albeit slowly. The next thing she understood was that she hadn't been shot yet. Although Ada hadn't thought through her plan - there had been no plan - she vaguely understood that her compulsive action would have her killed, whether she managed to kill Crane or not. And yet ... there she stood: threatened, dumbfounded, and still angry. Why haven't they just shot you?
The third thing she noticed was that the Joker circled her protectively, humming and tugging at something threaded to the inside his coat. He had said something. "Let's not blow this out of proportion."
He moved backwards toward her and reached out to take the gun from her. She almost laughed when she processed the joke. It was a bomb. Ada quickly saw a secret smile sent her way before he lifted her gun in the air with his free hand and waved it around. "Look! No more gun."
"YOU BITCH! YOU SHOT ME!" Cried Crane as he pushed himself around his desk with his good arm, his other limply cradling itself around his torso.
The Joker tutted and gestured his way with the uplifted gun. "And there! The judge is all right! No harm done. Now if you'd all, uh, kindly excuse us..."
"NO ONE GOES ANYWHERE. I HAVE... THE POWER... IN MY COURT!" As he spoke Crane clumsily slid down the mountain of crap, books sliding out from underneath him nearly making him topple forward. He looked ridiculous with his dishevelled hair and torn coat, not to mention the now profusely bleeding and useless arm. He looked horrid compared to the handsome, professional 'doctor' of the past.
"Now," started the Joker, keeping his tone charmingly light. "I don't think you do. See..." He tugged the thread for good measure, letting it quietly jingle. "If I tug on this here thread, I take away your power. Your court. Your life. And, uh, I'm not one to joke," he said with a shit-eating grin.
Crane barked a harsh laugh. "Not one to joke?" He flashed his eyes to the ceiling as he chuckled mockingly, "That's good. What's also good is you coming into my court and thinking you can get away with your usual chaos bullshit. No. Uh uh. Denied!" He sang out, manically pretending to bang a gavel. "You think you and that bitch can just get away with coming in here?" Ada's anger was quickly rebuilding. She thumbed the second gun hidden on her.
The joker pretended to think it over then dead-panned, "Uh, yeah actually."
Ada remembered the terrified faces of the people just outside the door, huddled around lit trash cans all waiting to see Crane. Crane had the power over all of their lives. Crane was judge? This was all too sickening for Ada to comprehend. What had Gotham turned into? When did madmen become kings?
You'd be sane if it wasn't for Crane.
Forgetting what side of this fight she was on, a crazy thought crossed her mind. If she killed Crane, killed the Joker, killed Bane... killed all the crazies, then everything would go back to normal. Her hand rested ready atop her pocketed handgun. She squeezed it tighter as she watched Crane advance further toward them.
She didn't know what would happen if she revealed her second gun to the court, though. Unsure, her eyes strayed to the mercs lining the walls. Ada assumed that the Joker's bomb stunt had scared the freelance soldiers but she now noticed that they looked ready to shoot, as if merely awaiting the say so. Would they follow a command from Crane?
She'd sworn to herself that given the chance she'd end him. It was her favourite daydream - her standing over a sobbing Crane, his inaudible words muffled by the gun in his mouth, and she'd recite a cheesy albeit well-rehearsed parting line about how he was getting a taste of his own medicine.
Adelaide frowned and looked back to the Joker. He's got this, right?
[Eight Years Ago]
Ada was horrified. She couldn't tear her wide eyes away from her father as he screamed madly and flailed against the wall.
She had screamed and begged for the man in the sack mask to "Make it stop!" when he had first injected her dad with whatever the hell he had injected him with, but he ignored her cries and instead forced her to watch. Crane wheeled out an office chair and sat himself comfortably for the performance, taking notes.
First the subject, David Moore, had lost all seeming recognition of his surroundings and became insensibly terrified. Then the usual routine of screaming and crying occurred when the subject's fears manifested and layered over the subject's reality. It was difficult to distinguish what David Moore's fears were from his writhing and crying out but Crane wanted to attribute his state as something between entomophobia and thinking that his skin was melting off. The way his body jerked and he tried to tear out of his own body made Jonathon wonder if the man thought he was being swarmed by billions of inescapable flesh-eating insects.
David Moore's dosage was a higher concentration than the 'correct' dose that Crane had carefully calculated in his lab. Morbidly, he wanted to see what would happen to the mind if given too much.
Crane sighed heavily. After a while of Moore's screaming, he had nearly forgotten the petrified little beauty obediently glued to the floor. At the slight sound of Crane's chair shifting the girl's body jolted as if she had been shocked. Ada had in no way forgotten that Crane was beside her, but he had been still for such a long time, making notes, that when he moved a new stab of icy fear had her physically recoiling from him like the snap-back of a tape-measure.
Blinking back hot tears, Ada's glassy eyes locked with the madman's otherworldly blue eyes. Even in that moment his eyes drew her in, like they had in the hallway, despite their harsh confinement beneath his horrific mask. The offensive clash between the man's worn, grubby mask and his expensive-looking navy suit also distracted her in that moment. Her mind needed something to focus on other than the continuous hell happening in that room at that moment. But instead of her mind offering something useful like a way out of it, or a plan of defence, she was noticing the blue of this demon's eyes and the niceties of his suit.
Somewhere in the back of Scarecrow's mind he wondered if he should fuck her now or when she was under the effects of his drug. He liked the pretty way she flinched as he neared her. It made him slightly impatient to see what she was like on his toxin.
The demon flipped shut his notebook and squatted by the girl. His mask nearing her, she let out a whimper. Slowly, he brandished a second needle casing.
Sounding slightly out of breath he asked, "Are you ready for your turn?" Ada could tell that he was smiling.
Petrified beyond all reason, Ada mustered her last strength into shrieking. She'd been trying to act good up till now. She had heard somewhere that if you were ever abducted that the best thing you could do was be co-operative. Sit tight until someone saved you. All of that advice felt remedial now that this masked monster was coming toward her brandishing insanity in a vial. So she shrieked and kicked and tried her best to wriggle away whilst her tormentor pressed his weight onto her and pressed the needle-point painfully into her neck.
Excitedly, Crane leaned over the girl and pressed her deep against the brown carpet. His eyes fervently looked her over, studying her every reaction to his drug. What happened to her was unlike anything he would have expected. Her cries quieted and her breathing slowed until she became calm and unresisting. His own breathing quite loud and shallow, her struggle shamefully arousing him, Crane wondered if he had accidentally given her a sedative.
She didn't scream and didn't look at him. It was as if she had frozen and Crane would have been convinced it was a sedative if it wasn't for the girl's eyes. Her eyes were wide and terrified. Her eyelids flickered as if she was struggling to move, her irises rolled unattractively. Her mouth was slack as if in a scream and her breathing was shallow. It became clear that this was all a unique reaction to the fear toxin. He was quite disappointed.
All the while, the doctor David Moore shrieked and clawed at himself. Crane clucked his tongue and sighed. He was straddling the still girl. She was no fun like this. He tugged his burlap sack over his head and ruffled his dark dishevelled hair as he eyed the girl. She gave no resistance as he slid a long finger down her cheek, then across her chest. Humming to himself, he continued to glide his touch across the girl's body, all the while watching her face for any sign of recognition. He wondered if her scared little mind would be able to process pleasure. Eyes still trained on her face, Crane lowered his mouth to the girl's stomach and began kissing and tasting her revealed skin.
She gave no reaction to his kisses, other than the steady rise and fall of her stomach as she gently breathed. Her eyes still wide and terrified seemed to show no recognition of his touch. This was very unusual. Even when given the toxin his subjects would still recognise his presence - however distorted and horrific it would become. But this girl seemed to be locked away in her own mind, unaware of the assault her body was about to receive. It was a boring reaction to his toxin, yet still peculiar and interesting. Crane's tongue dipped down, gliding across the girl's tanned skin as he pulled down her shorts. Her body would react to him, he vowed. Even if she was unaware of reality, her body would revert to basal stimulation. He spread the girl's legs and lowered his head.
David Moore had quieted sufficiently, and was instead groaning along the wall, no longer screaming. Crane hadn't counted on the strength of his toxin killing the professor. He'd given the same strength dose to Moore's daughter but she managed to survive. Crane scientifically regarded her survival as a result of her unique reaction to the drug, as well as a side-effect of her body's stimulated pleasure. Not that Crane expected the outcome of his experiments that night. He selfishly did what he wanted to do, uncaring of the consequences, despite calling his actions 'research'. He gave Moore a higher dose because he wanted to. He pleasured Moore's daughter because it pleasured him to do so.
With a smirk, Crane retracted a long, coated finger from Ada's warmth. He'd successfully managed to arouse the girl despite her mind's disassociation.
On the other side of the carpet, David Moore struggled to breathe as his body gave out. The professor passed away to the sounds of Crane's thrusts and grunts as he fucked the man's comatose daughter.
