A.N. Hello all, first off I would like to apologise for being so late with this update but I have an excuse. I fractured my arm a while back and got these drugs that made me a bit loopy, then my internet died (something to do with the line..?) and I just got it back a few hours ago. Sorry, it's been sitting on my laptop for a good while now but I didn't have the means to post. Anyway, thanks to all you awesome reviewers. You're LEGENDARY. Thanks and enjoy.
Chapter 7
A red light was flashing.
Which was never a good sign when someplace you ought not be, usually it was a very bad sign. With this in mind Nicky hurried the next part, programming the alarm after a few minutes and checking her watch. It was all set; all they had to do now was wait for five minutes, start up the train and flip a switch for the silent alarm.
She sighed, raking a shaking hand through her hair and trying not to be sick. She laughed, shaking and looked towards the two henchmen behind her who offered nothing more than half smiles. Quite right too, she probably looked like she was having a breakdown.
"How much longer before we turn it all back on?" she asked no one in particular, knowing one of them would mutter something back.
"Just under three minutes."
A radio gave off static as the guard stumbled down the tracks slim walkway, hand sliding over the wall as he tripped and tripped again. If only the call had come in a moment later, he could of changed shifts and would have been on his way out by now.
He sighed, eyes squinting into the darkness and an odd sort of echo ringing in the din. From the distance, he couldn't make it out clearly but it set his nerves on edge. Something was off - it didn't take a genius to figure that one out - and something off in Gotham was usually a very bad thing.
"Done," Nicky flicked the switched, pressing a few buttons as she stood and laughing giddily as the annoying red light stopped flashing at her. She turned to find herself being led at full speed down the corridor, down a set of stairs and only a deserted platform. The man in front of her jumped down from the platform, grabbing her as she leapt with a squeak - dropping the woman whilst trying to run at the same time.
A radio buzzed into life, Crane having turned his own at the other end. A muffled buzz of static and the man behind her sent back the words 'All done'.
She barely resisted the urge to laugh, really it wasn't funny but her mind was running purely on adrenaline and fear. They pelted down the dark tunnel, a shard of light from the henchman's thin torch illuminating about three feet in front of their faces.
The sound of a train screeching back to life alerted them all to just how close they were, accompanied by the sound of someone running in the opposite direction. The floor beneath her feet vibrated slightly, only growing more powerful the further they ran.
With a jolt, the train started to move and pick up speed. Heavy footfalls from behind her only indication that the henchmen were still with her, she gave a breathy laugh when a shard of light waved back and forth; a torch trying to catch their attention from an open doorway not too far from them.
Closing in quick, all three flew into the narrow gap before Nicky stuck her head out again. The running form was getting closer, but so was the train. With a final burst, Crane came sprinting in through the door. She almost gasped to find him still wearing the Scarecrow mask, obviously everything had gone well.
Everyone breathed heavily as the train passed, going slower than normal with the lights still flickering back on as it went. The mask looked more intimidating now; the crappy lights flickering on and off casting deep shadows over the patchwork, with every flash Nicky had to convince herself that it wasn't watching her.
Crane was still under there. It was easier to look at him with that in mind, that it really was just a mask and the man beneath was familiar. Well, familiar enough anyway.
With that, the henchmen started walking up a fight of stairs just behind them and Nicky followed quietly. The very idea of climbing stairs when she felt like her head was going to explode seemed stupid, but by the sound of Crane's breathing he would be doing worse.
"Stop right there," They stopped, turning on the steps to face a lone cop with a gun held to them all - flicking from Crane to Nicky, the three men behind and back again. Crane sighed, turning to look at her through the holes of his mask and shooing her away. She moved back a few steps, watching the cloud of white mist that choked the guard instantly.
And then he was screaming; a horrible, gut wrenching and desperate sound as he flung his gun away and started scraping at his own arms viciously. His screams grew higher as Crane approached, grabbing his shoulders and forcing his gaze onto the mask.
"What do you fear?"
Clothing ripped, she tried to see where but the guard was throwing himself around so violently she couldn't tell - Crane seemed to have no trouble keeping his grip. His hands skittering from his face to his chest, his arms and then to his hair. The man's only answer was a scream, words flooding the noise in gibberish as Crane refused to let go. She felt sick, running down the stairs to pull him away. He shook her off, gripping the man's chin and asking the question again.
The dull thud of his head bouncing against the wall interrupted the screams momentarily, only to double in volume with their return. Nicky gritted her teeth, her nerves building with every passing second that they remained on the stair well - it was sickening, yet at the same time she couldn't look away. He was terrified, absolutely terrified with his gaze flickering frantically about himself.
"Stop it!" she screamed and levelled a kick to the back of his leg, causing Crane to stumble before tearing him away. "Enough! Let's go!" Nicky didn't wait any longer before racing up the stairs, pushing past the first henchman who stood gaping before the others got the idea.
He was furious, you didn't have to study psychiatry to know that one.
The henchmen had be forced out a moment before, back into the night as he rounded on her. The mask was still in place, the breathing shallow and hands clenched into fists by his side. She knew what was coming; the thought terrifying her so much she couldn't move, her legs rooted to the spot.
It was Crane, just in a mask; albeit a very pissed off asylum inmate with a questionable medical background, but it was still him.
"What gives you the right?" he started, panting with anger as he paused. "What gives you the right to interfere? You're just doing a job!" A smashed vial hit the opposite wall, the movement so quick she barely caught it.
With a wave of fury he advanced, one hand gripping her neck and forcing her face up as the mist burnt itself into her eyes and up her nose. She coughed violently, throat released but in too much shock to think about catching herself.
She landed hard and finally stopped coughing, staring into the dark corners of the warehouse that warped and looped in front of her eyes. Someone was crying, great wretched sobs with heavy gasps in between. Her mother smiling in the corner, grey skinned and with that bruise on the left side of her face - the way she had looked in her coffin, the way she remained in her mind.
Her own heartbeat, thrumming through her body and pressure inside her head - in her ears, pushing down and distorting the noise around her. The more Nicky thought about it, the surer she became that any second now her brain was going to explode and paint the walls.
She realised the pathetic, contorted sobs were in fact her own.
A pinching grip on her arm had her whimpering, scrabbling away before realising someone coming from behind her too. Footsteps, loud and sure from behind, even feeling the vibrations against the floor that travelled up her spine. She spun on her rear, hands up before her arm was twisted around again and she was facing Scarecrow.
The brief glance she had caught revealed nothing, shadows and nothing more.
"You stupid little girl," he growled - that voice, so familiar. "What do you fear?" She'd heard that voice before but saying something different, shouting at her within the darkness as she'd clawed helplessly at a door. She was 8 again, pathetic and scared with nothing for company but the darkness and fear.
Yet, in the back of her mind she knew it was just a vivid memory. She knew she was sitting in a warehouse, crying like a newborn baby with Scarecrow looming over her.
She was pleading, babbling even as her anxiety grew. For a moment she thought the lights had gone, everything becoming dark as her hands grabbed uselessly at her hair.
"Please, let me out! It's too dark!"
Nicky screamed, a short sound that barely reached her lips before she fainted.
Everything hurt, including the simple act of thought. Thought made her brain vibrate against her skull, in turn making Nicky grit her teeth and realise the muscles in her jaw were hurting too. She could tell the room was dark - thankfully - through her eyelids and there was absolute silence.
The moment her last memory came back she jumped, regretting the gasp that left her lips as a tear slipped down her cheek. Ouch, what had he done to her afterwards? Kicked her around for a while? Thrown her down the stairs?
Repeatedly, if the ache in every muscle in her body was anything to go by.
Something shifted in the corner of the room, making her groan. He was there, just to the left of her and a little away. She closed her eyes tightly, refusing to open them before trying to lay perfectly still.
"You need water," he stated simply in a low voice, taking a step forward yet stopping as the form on the couch growled.
"Fuck you," she ground out, voice so weak it scared her. She was dying, that was the only explanation. A headache so severe it seemed inhuman rattled through her skull, pulsing angrily every other second. It was becoming hard to stay conscious, to listen to the conversation Crane wanted to have.
"Nicky, you need water; the headache you're experiencing right now is through dehydration," His voice was so soft yet clipped that Nicky had to wonder if she was really losing it, how a voice could be soft yet harsh at the same time - if it was just the ringing in her ears or if that was his 'doctor tone'.
The idea made her feel sick - the experiments Ivy had mentioned, to his own patients!
She didn't reply, biting her lip softly as nausea threatened to overcome her. He took another slow, measured step towards her as she heard the soft creak of a plastic bottle. The lid twisted off, bouncing far too noisily against the wood flooring.
The hand sliding around the back of her head made her twist away, a sob coming forth without her consent as her whole body screamed in pain. He tried again, this time a little quicker and lessening the chance of escape. She simply didn't have the energy, too tired and scared to refuse.
The liquid that poured into her mouth was far too cold when swallowed, Nicky only managed it twice before shaking with the stab of pain that squeezed her throat closed. The bottle was taken away a little to rest against her bottom lip, the hand remained for a moment longer.
"I," she paused, listening to the whispers in the dark; the sinister giggle or two that set her on edge. Almost as if her voice had set them off, given them life. "I hate you." It sounded childish, maybe because it was - or maybe because her voice sounded so young and timid - but she could think of nothing more to say.
Too tired to form any other thought, too scared to open her eyes to glare at him. The hand left her head finally, allowing her to lie back fully.
Her eyes were open before she realised she was awake, silence greeting her ears as she attempted to sit up. She managed to wedge her elbows into the mattress, realising only then that she was now on a bed. The bottled water by her side vanished quickly, barely enough time for her to swallow before she sucked in the next mouthful.
Almost instantly her head cleared, leaving nothing but an ache in her joints accompanied by quivering muscles. The ringing in her ears still persisted, but she could only guess that the hideout was completely silent as she made to get up.
Which, by all accounts is an easy enough thing to do. She succeeded on the third try, throwing herself up and tottering on the spot. With the increased dizziness, she snarled at the voices that whispered and giggled in the silence.
With a sigh she started to shuffle with unsteady legs to her bag, pulling out the first change of clothes she came across. For a while she stared at them, trying to calm her heavy breathing before giving in and slowly - very slowly - getting changed.
She needed to go; get her payment, get out and either find Ivy or find somewhere to stay. Gotham was a big place, the very idea of finding Ivy was ridiculous yet she held onto the hope.
He was at his desk again, she realised the second she walked onto the factory floor which it's high ceilings. Hunched over his desk, a lone desk lamp shining over yet more plans and schemes. He didn't hear her approach and she didn't want to say more than she needed, so - ever so casually - she let the door close with a thud.
He stilled, spinning in his chair with a calm look.
"You promised me a payment," she stated, bag landing on the side of her foot as she sat on the edge of a workstation - feigning cockiness but feeling nothing but weak and shaky.
"You shouldn't leave yet," he said, ignoring her meagre laugh. "The toxin is still in your-"
"The toxin you gave me?" she interrupted swiftly in a whisper, eyes wide and innocent even as her voice broke and she swallowed quickly. She waited a moment for a reply, feeling anger when he looked neither guilty nor worried. She scoffed, shaking her head and crossing her arms. "Yeah, I need to leave now,"
The glasses were taken off as Crane finally moved, rubbing at his nose before looking to her for a long moment. His face was unreadable; a mask with nothing but piercing blue eyes staring back, scaring yet trapping her at the same time. "You have to understand, Nicky. I'm used to henchmen doing what they're told, when they're told. It's just logical," he said the last with a wave of the hand, gesturing with his glasses.
"Then you should stick to dealing with henchmen," They stared levelly at one another for a long moment, neither speaking as a silent battle started. Nicky was still swaying where she sat, eyes unfocused and everything becoming blurry as she tried to stare for too long. With a groan she gave in, blinking repeatedly and ignoring the flash of movement to her left as best she could.
It was just in her mind, when she looked there was no one there.
"Why did you need me anyway?" she asked and looked to the wall, confusion growing as she thought. "It wasn't exactly complicated and I'm sure you could of found a 'henchman'," Smirking, she looked down at him before comprehension dawned. A bitter laugh, feeling like an idiot. "It was to give yourself some more study time, right?" He stared for an age, never answering her question and lacing his fingers together in his lap.
"How do you feel?" he asked, voice void of concern. It was back to Dr. Crane yet again, the clipped tones and hard eyes that unsettled her more than the Scarecrow mask.
"Fine, can I have the money now?" An eyebrow was raised as her hand came out expectantly, fingers snapping after Crane merely watched her. "Places to go, people to see," 30 seconds of silence, Crane's lips grew thin as she refused to give in and her face became flushed. "Oh, you know what. Forget it." she turned on the spot, pushing away from the table.
"Nyctophobia," he stated suddenly in an emotionless voice. "The fear of the dark, usually stemming from childhood trauma,"
Nicky stared, caught between hitting him and running out. For a few minutes she gaped, watching as he span a little from left to right and stared at her with calculating eyes. "I knew it, you wanted a patient."
And with that she picked up her bag, giving him one last glare and marched straight out of the hideout into downtown Gotham.
She remembered one Mr. Lewison from an earlier trip with Ivy, the man had put them up for a little cash and kept quiet about who they were to his other residents - people who had been just as questionable as them.
Like a criminal hotel, the very thought made her grin.
Getting there had been tricky; what with the nausea and dizzy spells, accompanied by the midday sun in her eyes as she glared up at Wayne Tower so far away in the distance. At least she had her trench coat, the collar turned up to hide her face a little more as she skulked like a drunk down the road.
Swaying only slightly, she ignored the whispers in the back of her mind. Also, the looming figures in the shadowed alleyways - after about the 3rd investigation of these figures, she realised it was once again the toxin playing tricks on her.
Eating as she walked, Nicky picked up a far too sugary doughnut and hoped the sugar would give her a little energy. It seemed to work, although it left her mouth feeling dry.
After about an hour and a half, she reached a familiar club called the 'Iceberg'; lights off and empty with the early hour. Ivy had made her stand on the same corner she stood on now, waiting as the woman collected something from 'some man' that Ivy had never told her the name of.
She didn't care, it was all just details in the end.
She took a left onto a new street, eyes scanning the apartments until she came to a particularly shabby door with browning and dirtied blinds at the windows. Always shut, they'd been swathed in shadows inside.
She knocked after a moments pause, feeling nervous and as if she was being watched. Looking around once revealed people merely carried on with their day, a typical Thursday with working people catching lunches and the busy atmosphere of any city.
Two sharp raps on the peeling paint of the door and she stepped back, rubbing her hand self consciously before forcing herself to calm down. She didn't need to appear so timid, Mr. Lewison had been nice enough on her last visit from what she could recall.
The door creaked a little as it opened an inch or two, revealing the same hazel eyes from her memory. "Can I help you?""Mr. Lewison?" she asked in a scratchy voice, shocked as the door closed suddenly and locks sounded behind. She was about to knock again as the door opened fully, a hand dragging her inside before she could protest.
A lamp was switched on by her side, allowing the older man to inspect her fully. Also allowing Nicky to do the same, albeit just to refresh her memory.
Mr. Lewison - as she'd never been told his first name - his hair always in the same state of disarray, strands falling into his eyes. The shade being a deep brown, with a few grey streaks dotted here and there. Nicky could imagine he would have been handsome in his youth, he still was to a certain extent but the wrinkles around his squinted eyes and the greyness to his skin dulled his appearance slightly. Shabby clothes that served more for comfort than fashion, slipper clad feet and yet an air of contempt radiated from him.
"Nicky?" he asked finally, receiving a scared smile and a watery gaze. The man smiled warmly, waving her down the narrow corridor and into a room to the left. They entered the living room, both sitting on the worn yet comfortable sofa as she finally dropped her bag.
Her emotions seemed to be betraying her, one minute she could control the anger only to find herself on the brink of tears… Followed closely by lethargy and anger once more.
She sighed heavily for a second, feeling the man's eyes on her ratty appearance and stifling the urge to explain it. Explain the way the shadows scared her, the way they jumped and clawed at them both from the walls and danced before her eyes. Really, it was getting a little dull.
"Mr. Lewison, I'm sorry but I couldn't think of anywhere else," she started, turning to face the mildly amused man to her left. "I've got no where else, it's all gone wrong and," she paused, Lewison was grinning with a hand held up for her to stop.
"I saw you on the news not two days ago," he said as if it explained everything, maybe it did to someone like Mr. Lewison. "With that Scarecrow fella, had a falling out?" he teased, shaking his head as Nicky frowned.
"He's an idiot, let's not talk about him," she ignored the other's laughter, short yet melodic and something she'd never heard before.
"I suppose you'll be wanting somewhere to hide out for a while?" Nicky grinned sheepishly, giving a tiny nod. "Alright then, lucky for you the place is deserted right now,"Nicky carried on looking sheepish, giving herself a moment to think of her wording.
"The thing is,"
Mr. Lewison groaned, making to stand yet seating himself once more to the younger woman's words. He turned in his seat, raising an eyebrow. "The thing is?"
"I'm flat out broke right now, I mean it," she added quickly, already pointing at her bag. "This is everything I own, I don't have a dollar,"
"I see," he answered slowly, a short nod once as neither spoke.
"I'll pay you back, I promise. Really, I know it looks suspect but I will," she started, already down to pleading. If stupid Crane had given her the stupid money, she would of quite happily paid the old man - she felt horrid even asking.
Mr. Lewison sighed, waving a hand as if to bat away Nicky's ramblings. "It's alright, I trust you,"
"You do?" He nodded. "Why?!" They both grinned, laughing at the situation as Nicky finally relaxed for the first time since escaping Arkham.