"Hey there, princess. Are you liking your big, fancy bed?" the man's gravelly voice rumbled lecherously.

Genevieve tensed. What the hell was Skelter doing back here? And why was he in her room? Her eyes went wide, and she took a mental note of the heavy lamp that was next to her on the bedside table. Even though she hadn't met too much trouble in Gotham before her kidnapping, she always put herself into the mindset that she could very well be attacked at any moment. While she almost always had pepper spray on hand, she also trained herself to be aware of anything in a room that could be used for a good bludgeoning.

She tried to be assertive, but, as usual, she failed pathetically. She sat there frozen, terrified of what this man would do next. Why had Two-Face let him just stroll into her bedroom after all of his kind intentions? She knew that he was aware of how uncomfortable he made her, and she was absolutely sure that he knew that Skelter's "flirtatious" intentions wouldn't lead to roses and a dinner for two. He should've known not to let this man anywhere near her. Maybe he really didn't care.

Skelter sidled towards the edge of the bed and sat on it, the casual action literally making her feel sick.

"Y'know, I don't like the way you've been treating me," he said, his voice mocking hurt. "A guy wants to look at a girl, they should take it as a compliment. But for some reason you just keep fighting it." He placed a hand on her leg, and she jumped back. He laughed, and she wanted to die. She knew it would only be a matter of time before a time like this would present itself, and she thought she would be ready for it. She wasn't, of course, and she couldn't help but cower within the shadow of the overpowering, much bigger man. She wanted to scream, she wanted to break his skull open with the lamp, but she wasn't sure what he'd do if her attempts failed. Her fear caused her to keep her mouth shut, and she couldn't prevent herself from dumbly looking at him with her huge, terrified eyes. She hated herself for it, but she just couldn't bring herself to move. She was too afraid.

"Don't be afraid of me," he said in a sickeningly sweet voice, "I'll make your stay here a lot more enjoyable." He leaned in towards her on the bed, and that's when her defense mode clicked on in full gear. She made a grab for the lamp next to her, and he growled angrily before grabbing her arms roughly with his strong, calloused fingers. She yelled hopelessly as the lamp fell from her grasp, and the loud, painful noise of the porcelain shattering on the floor filled her with dread. She screamed at the top of her lungs as Skelter wrestled her down onto the mattress, pinning her arms down at her sides with enough force to bruise her. He pressed a thick hand onto her mouth in order to silence her, and she bit his palm as hard as she could. He swore, and slapped her hard across the face, his hand shoving painfully against her lips once more. She whimpered, tears already staining her cheeks, her muffled screams now turning into desperate cries.

"I forgot to ask you," he began while quickly removing his belt with his free hand. She shut her eyes, and she kicked her legs helplessly beneath the man to no avail.

"Just how did you like your time with The Joker? I mean, I knew you were an attractive little thing, but who knew that he'd even want to get a piece of this," he slapped her thigh, and intense fury filled her alongside with her terror. So he was behind that file mix-up. He was the one who put her through that Hell. He was the one who made her hate her life.

Her anger was quickly replaced by pure terror as he yanked her pants down, the feel of the disgusting warmth from his body against her flesh making her want to vomit. This was it. Skelter would finally have his way with her, and she would be left to lie there, broken and violated. Her sobs continued working in full force, and she shut her eyes as his fingers pried beneath the hem of her underpants.

Her eyes snapped open immediately as she felt the heavy weight of him leave her body. She looked up in confusion, and she heard the man grunt loudly, followed by a heavy thud on the ground. She turned her head abruptly towards the directions the sounds came from, and she felt as if her heart had stopped.

There, standing above the staggering body of Skelter, was Two-Face, his sleeve rolled up, and his eyes furious. He looked down at the man before him and kicked him hard in the gut, resulting in another resounding groan from the man.

"I don't ever," Two-Face began, his voice dripping with venom, "ever, want to see you in here again. I don't deal with rapists, and don't think for a moment that he does either."

Genevieve remained still on the bed, too overwhelmed and confused to move yet again. He? Who was he? The thought quickly left her however, because Two-Face was frightening, truly frightening when he was angry. His eyes were dark, and his expression was contorted into something of pure fury. He looked murderous. But what frightened her even more than that was that she was grateful, utterly grateful that he was here with her.

Skelter groaned again, and Two-Face spoke with a new voice. His tone took on a deep, guttural, sinister sound, and she couldn't help but press herself against the headboard in fear.

"Get up," he growled darkly to the man at his feet. He didn't oblige, probably because he was still recovering from the heavy blow to his gut.

"I SAID GET UP!" he screamed. She jumped, horrified. She knew this side of him was there, but it didn't make experiencing it any less frightening. Her mouth was held agape as she saw him pull the coin out of his pocket. She knew what would happen next.

Two-Face lifted the man off of the floor with surprising strength, and Skelter writhed against his hold. He dragged him outside of the open door, leaving her to sit there, numb.

It was only a few moments before she heard the loud bang, and she knew it was over.

Two-Face came back into the room, his expression utterly serious. She didn't even see his deformed side anymore. All she saw was the pain in his expression, and she felt her chest began to heave.

"He's gone now," was all he said.

Genevieve couldn't stop herself from running from the bed and into his arms, her sobs leaving wet spots on his chest.