CHAPTER FOUR | In which it is again.

This second person looked only a few years older than Dahlia and much younger than Kek, and was much more lithe and slim. His waving hair was choppy and short, dark eyes shining in such an odd way that it perturbed her. "Yeah. He said not to underestimate you."

Finally she recognized him: The medic from the party.

"Nice late entry, Art." Kek approached from behind Dahlia, looking down at his hand after running it under his nose several times to check for blood. He stopped a short distance behind her and looked back up to her, smiling again. She sneered, panicking inside. "Dahlia, I don' think you've been formally introduced to Artemis. Great with medicine, expert in, ehh … 'offense.' " To this comment, she looked back to the boy, who gave a lopsided, twisted smile. Looking back to Kek, he continued, "And my real name is Jack. Sorry about the deception."

"So … What? 'That's okay, let's be friends'?" She hissed back angrily.

"Well, it would certainly help out." Jack's smile spread into a grin as his feet took slow, idling steps towards her. "We need you. And contrary to what you probably assume, we don't want to hurt you." He continued on. She wasn't paying attention anymore, too preoccupied with glancing around for a way out. There was no way she'd be able to squish past either of them, and she knew she couldn't take them head on, Jack at the very least. Eyes casting upwards, there were about four feet of free space between the tops of the bookshelves and the ceiling, just enough room for someone of her size to slip though easily.

Like lightning she ran towards the shelves and scrambled up it like a panther, books flying off with each step of her foot. Jack and Artemis both exclaimed in surprise and dashed to grab her heels: Jack got a whack in the temple by Dahlia's heel while Artemis reached for her a moment too late. They exchanged panicked words as she moved up and over, then ran to opposite ends of the corridor to follow as she slipped over the other side ... yet did not let go. She waited strategically until both were occupied trying to get to the next aisle, then pulled herself back over and hopped down to the floor right where they had been. She sprinted to the nearest exit.

"Where the fuck did she go?!" Artemis' voice shrieked.

"She's on the other side!" Jack called back, his voice calmer than his unstable counterpart as he ran back towards the prior aisle. But of course, Dahlia was not there.

She never looked back to check her trick, nor did her pace slow as she made her way back home. Over and over again her brain called her an idiot for leaving. Completely foolish, idiotic, stupid mistake.

Back at the apartment in a matter of minutes, she swung the front door open and entered in a rush, too afraid to call for her father but seeking him out visually in every room. The power was still out and nightfall provided hardly any moonlight to guide her. Now all she could hear was the heavy pounding of her heart and her own panting breaths.

As she reached for the edge of her bedroom door to pull it shut behind her, it swung closed on its own, slamming shut and rattling the windows.

Behind it stood the grim and ghoulishly clad, ragged figure of The Scarecrow.

The mask covering his head was precisely the same as he had clad before, burlap with twine stitching. Only now he had fashioned a complete costume, with matching burlap pants, tunic, vagrant-worthy worn leather shoes, a knee-length coat, and a wide-brimmed hat. He truly did look like something out of a southern cornfield, and yet for such an appearance that one could even call silly, it terrified Dahlia. Here was here, in her apartment, again. A well-known madman, with a dangerous following.

It was difficult to look at him, but even more difficult to hear his silken voice. "Dahlia, Dahlia, my love. Finally, after eight long months apart, we are together once again."

He stepped forward, hands out, but she shuffled back. The fear seized her muscles to the point of barely being able to move. "Oh, come now, Dahlia. I know how you feel about me." He was very close now; he could have reached out and grabbed her already. But he didn't. He wanted to toy with her first. He wanted to take in every inch of her terror.

"You are nothing to me." Finally she was able to respond, eyes watering up.

"Oh? You've a new male to rely on then? Hm?" The shift of the cloth over his face hinted towards a smile. "Is your new Prince Charming a man of chivalry and virtue? A man of the mind?" A brief monologue later and he had backed her up into the kitchen counter.

"What … Do you want? Revenge against me is useless. I don't have anything you want. I'm only one person."

Crane's eyes narrowed with sarcastic curiosity. "Only one person, you say?"

Her arm lifted into the air and she brought her elbow as hard as she could at Crane's shoulder, but he had caught her arm and spun her around, flinging her to the hard floor with a grunt. She crawled quickly, trying to get away as she heard his footsteps nonchalantly follow her. Lou kept a handgun hidden in every room in case of those types of situations, and Dahlia knew there was one taped under the coffee table. It pulled off easily enough, and once armed she pivoted onto her side and pointed it straight at Crane's face, who paused in his steps. "Stay back!" She barked, as she continued to pull herself back, too scared to lift herself off the ground, sitting up against the couch, never taking her eyes away from his.

Only that pause, but he continued forward. The gun in Dahlia's shaking hand never wavered from its target. "Stop!" She tried again to subdue him. "You will not get another warning!" Directly over her now, he crouched down slowly until the barrel of the gun was resting on his chest. They were both silent, staring directly into each other's eyes. The answer to what she should do seemed so obvious but in the moment, she was at a loss for words and actions.

"SHOOT ME!"

He commanded forcefully. It startled Dahlia to the point of her arms relaxing, finger falling from the trigger. An onset of gentle sobs escaped her as her eyes shut tightly. Quickly he snatched the gun from her and then a moment later she felt the barrel press against her cheek. Muttering a nervous cry she opened her reddened eyes and looked up to him, lips quivering. Quietly he said, "These bullets aren't meant for you, Dahlia. I have more use for you than that. But if you don't cooperate with me, they'll be meant for your father."

No hesitation came with her pleading reply; "Don't hurt him. I'll do anything you want, just don't do anything to him."

The Scarecrow pulled the gun away from her head and let it relax in his arm, pointed towards the ceiling. His blue eyes lit up, replying with malicious glee. "Terrific!" Standing he shoved the gun into the back of his belt, then leaned down and grabbed the back of Dahlia's blouse. "I'm so glad we're together again, Dahlia. Did I tell you that?" Like a caveman he headed out, dragging her behind him on the floor. No matter how she struggled and kicked out, even merely to stand, he kept a steady pace and took long strides all the way down the street. The apartment door lay open with only the light of the hallway streaming inside its grey, empty rooms.