Nine – Two

He was draped over me, hands clamped on my shoulders, and steering me far past my home. I had never gotten this close to him before, never gotten this close to ANY guy before. Us, us, us banged around in my head and I recoiled from it like a fucking cat splashed with water.

"Get the fuck off of me," I growled at him. I sounded low and serious like a fucking boss. "I can walk myself."

After a second that seemed like twelve years, he did something that I seriously did not think he would. He slid his hands off of me, long fingers trailing over my wrists, and uncurled himself from around my body. I tried to suppress this involuntary shiver of pleasure that shot through my bones. NOTE TO BODY: FUCKING STOP.

"Only if you promise not to stray," he said in a sing-songy voice. I bit my lip.

He shot a leg out in front of me and his body followed until we were stopped in front of a used vacuum store (because apparently those exist?). He was in front of me, hands behind his back and eyes glued right on my face. For the first time in a long time, I felt more than a little self-conscious. I looked like a shit's shit and Crane, who honestly wasn't a bad looking guy, had finally cleaned up.

He bent down to get on my level. My old name for him – tall, dark and creepy – proved to be false because he really was not that fucking tall in comparison to most of the thugs we (you) took down (killed), but he was quite a bit taller than me. He stooped until we were nose-to-nose and for one fucking split-second I seriously thought he was going to try and kiss me. But he didn't.

"How would you like to see where I've been spiriting off to during the daylight?" He smiled super fucking wide. "I've found your hidey-hole. Would you like to see mine?"

I worked up a big glob of spit and it found its target square in his face.

Bad fucking move, Kate Hale.

He growled and wiped my spit off of his face. I guess he counted that at "straying" because he went right fucking back to an ice-grip on my shoulders and a suffocating hold on my body. He was rougher than before when he forced me to walk. He was fucking shaking with anger and I could feel it transfer from his bones to mine.

"You know, Katie," he hissed. "There are very few people in my life that I've offered kindness to – and you happened to be one of the lucky few. So, what do you do? You spit it back in my face!" He was absolutely fucking dripping with venom. His hands crushed my shoulders enough to cause me to literally yelp out in pain. Fresh tears came to my eyes.

"Oh, are you scared?" he crooned. I didn't move my head, just closed my fucking eyes and waited for it to be over. This didn't satisfy him. "Are you?" he growled. He tightened his grip. I nodded, nodded like I had probably never fucking nodded before.

"Good," he whispered. "Because you should be. Do you know who I am?"

Tears were white-hot and I could barely answer, so I let somebody else do it for me. "Scarecrow," we spit out.

He laughed. "Ten points for Slytherin, you're a very astute pupil. But I'm not just that anymore, Miss Hale." Oh, fucking what. I thought numbly of Crane turning into a giant lizard and swallowing me whole. "Bane made me an offer that I couldn't refuse."

"Bane?" I managed to cough up.

"Well, I am what some would call a 'super-villain'." He nodded to himself, as if he were considering the title. "But he came to me because I am a man of education and a purpose, Miss Hale, and because I tried to give Gotham what it deserves."

I muffled a sob and he licked his lips. "I am Gotham's judge," he whispered. "I am a proud part of its jury and, sometimes, I get to be Gotham's executioner." He veered me wildly to the right and it was then I realized that he had led me to the city limits. How far had we walked? How long? I gasped and gaped and looked up at him.

He shrugged. "Surgeon-General's warning: side effects of prolonged exposure to Doctor Crane's remarkable fear toxin may include changes in one's perception of time, also known as 'time-skips'."

I cried harder. Just what I fucking needed (just what the Doctor ordered) shut up that wasn't funny. How much time was I missing? What had happened? Why was this happening to me?

Bad girl, it whispered.

Crane pushed me forward, towards a warehouse. I wasn't prepared and my legs were all wobbly from his forceful puppeteering. I slid on some ice and fell on my hands on knees. My knees throbbed and the pain was enough to make me want to throw up. I coughed. Why the fuck had I even thought spitting in his goddamn fucking face I was a fucking idiot and you want to know what the worst part was? I didn't only think I was an idiot for doing it – I felt fucking guilty. He had helped me so much and that's what I did. I moaned.

"Get up," he hissed at me, but his face wasn't angry. He had the sort of look that you'd give a kitten, or a bug that had fallen on its back. Then he held a hand out to me.

I didn't take it. Slidding on the ice, I stood up by myself. I wiped the tears off of my face. My hands stung. My knees felt like they were pulsating with pain. I could practically feel the bruises forming from his hands on my shoulders.

Crane did his familiar jaw-clench thing. "Miss Hale, I do believe that court's almost in session."

He placed his hand on the small of my back and ushered me inside. We were met by clapping and roaring. The place was an almost kind of organized chaos. People stood and watched a chair in the center, which was being occupied by a shaking man in natty-ass business suit. Before them all was where I assumed Crane sat, piled high and tall with books and the relics of Gotham's downfall.

My fucking freshman year English teacher would have a field day with the symbolic shit going down here.

Crane ushered me into one of the groups of thugs. They were mostly men, husky and stocky, covered in tattoos and throwing off a 'hard-life on the streets' vibe. But they all looked at him with a sort of respect and when Crane gave me the final push into them, they didn't tear me apart like I thought they would. They gave me that same respect and – wait a tic, was that fucking fear? Were these guys seriousl a-fucking-fraid of me?

"Red," one of them said with a nod. He looked at my coat and all I could think about was the graffiti on the wall. He offered a hand out to me and I took it. They all helped me forward, until I was in the middle of them, standing on makeshift wooden bleachers and completely flanked by ex-cons.

The guy in the middle, on the chair, was shaking like a motherfucker. His shaking seemed to level up when Crane climbed up on the symbolic roller coaster and hit the gavel three times. "Order in the court," he shouted and he seemed to take a lot of pleasure from saying it.

I could see why Mister Suit-And-Tie was scared. Crane looked fucking massive up there. Sinister and undying and all of that shit.

I watched as the court read his crimes, and then the crimes of the man identical to him after that and on and on and on. The people around my cried and when offered to choose between "death or exile" all of them, without fail, chose exile.

But it was the same as death, only slower and colder.

When the sun began to set and cast dark shadows through the massive fucking windows of the warehouse, Crane hit his gavel again and checked his watch. "This court is in recess," he cried. "We will reconvene again tomorrow morning at eleven!"

They all dispersed, helping me down. A few nodded at me as they left.

"You know," Crane said, coming up behind me, "the Batman spoke about justice, but what he did wasn't justice. This is justice."

I felt like a worn husk of something. I felt sick. I felt tired. "Why did you bring me here?" I asked, but my voice was weak.

"Because you are of Gotham," he whispered in my ear. "And you deserve to see history in the making."

"This isn't fucking history or any of that shit, Crane; this is fucking wrong and twisted as hell!" I screamed at him. He bit his lip and shot glances around us. We were alone.

And then he fucking did something that seriously took me by fucking surprise – he kissed me.

I had been kissed before, yeah, but not like this. His mouth was on mine and it whispered us, us, us but I couldn't. It felt cold, it felt wrong and most of all it made my skin fucking crawl and bile race into my throat. I didn't want this.

So I bet his lip, bit it hard enough to draw fucking blood. He groaned and pushed me off of him. He covered his lip with his hand. "You stupid whore!" he yelled at me. He had yelled before, but this was different. This was more raw.

I wasn't scared. I had hit a nerve. I felt powerful.

"Get out! Get out of here!" he commanded. He absolutely lost it. He was flailing and kicking and screaming.

I flipped him off and left, vowing to never fucking come back.


aww yeah another update.
first kiss kt get it gurrl.