Chance stirs from unconsciousness as the November night air hits her face. She feels her eyes are too heavy to stay open but she forces a glance to her right. She sees a blur of green in the darkness and notes a slight swaying. As if she isn't touching the ground.

Her eyes droop closed once again. She tries to concentrate but her mind is far too foggy to focus on anything. Chance forces her eyes open again and notes a glimpse of purple. Her eyes are forced shut with a pang of throbbing from within her head.

She let's her head hang back in exhaustion. The crisp air makes goosebumps rise along her arms and legs. She tries to cross her arms to conserve her body heat but can't move them. She tries her legs but they can't move as well.

Chance focuses on the cold to keep herself awake.

"Here."

She feels herself being dropped to the cool ground in a rough thud. She feels the ground under her fingers and notices that it's dirt. Chance tries to lift her head up but finds that she simply doesn't have the strength. Instead she listens as the sounds of metal pounding metal reach her ears.

Clang

Clang

Clang

Need to think.

Clang

Need to call for help.

Clang

Need to figure out where I am.

Clang

What is that noise?

Clang

Last thing I remember?

Clang

I was with Harley, celebrating my birthday.

Clang

What do I know?

Clang

I'm outside.

Clang

It's cold.

Clang

I'm dizzy.

Clang

I might be drugged.

Clang

Can't focus.

Clang

There's that noise.

Clang

What is it?

Clang

What is it?

Clang

What is it?

"That's enough. Bring her over here."

"Are you sure about this puddin?"

Puddin?!

"Isn't it funny, Harley girl?"

"Well, yeah but she's my friend."

"Is she more important than what I want?"

"No. But she could die."

"That's the punchline my dear. Now bring her over so I can get her ready."

Chance feels herself being pulled across the dirty ground by her arms. She winces in pain until she stops moving. She then feels a new pain as she is lifted up by her armpits. Her head bangs against something hard and metal.

"Hold her arm."

Chance feels her arm being pressed against the cold metal and she shivers.

"I think she's waking up mistah j."

"Good. Then she'll feel this."

Something sharp is wound tightly around her wrist. It digs into her skin and she lets out a scream of pain. Before she realizes it, the same happens to her other arm and Chance begins to weep in agony.

"Stop..."

Her legs are pressed together against the metal before being wraped in the sharp metal. Chance begins to sob as she feels a warm wetness seeping from her wrists and ankles. Blood.

I'm bleeding.

"There we go. Chancy? I hope you can hear this. I want you to know, this is what happens when you hang out with the wrong crowd."

Before she can say anything she feels a cold and sticky liquid being spashed across her front.

"What the hell?!"

"Tell me chancy, are crows hunters or scavengers?"

"Um...scavengers I think."

"Then that rodent blood should do the trick. Tell boy blunder I said hi."

Chance finally gets her eyes open as joker and Harley leave the clearing. Once her vision clears she notices one thing surrounding her. Corn.

"Hello?! Where am I?!"

Chance looks down and winces at the barbed wire around her ankles. Then she notices that she's a few feet off the ground. She tries to move her arms but cries out as the wire digs into her wrist.

She's a rebel,

Chance gets wide eyed and glances to her belt.

She's a saint,

Chance winces as she struggles to reach the section with her cell phone before it stops ringing.

She's the salt of the earth and she's dangerous.

Upon noticing that her sickle is gone chance huffs in annoyance.

She's a rebel, vigilante. Portrait saint on the brink of destruction.

A single crow lands on her left shoulder and caws.

She sings the revolution, the dawning of our lives. She brings this liberation that I just can't define...well nothing comes to mind.

"Get away, stupid bird!"

The crow instead pecks at chances ear and pulls at it. Chance screams in pain. Another lands on her head and pecks at her hair. A third digs it's claws into her right arm before pecking into it. A fourth goes to pecking at her bottom lip, Chance screams at it and it flies off but another two take its place, pecking at her face. The one on her right arm pulls out something covered in blood and Chance shrieks.

"SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

She's a rebel, she's a rebel, she's a rebel, and she's dangerous. She's a rebel, she's a rebel, she's a rebel, and she's dangerous.

Her phone stops ringing and chance continues to try and squirm free against her barbed wire restraints.

Okay, let's think. Being eaten alive was named number three on the top ten most painful ways to die...oh crap.

"I'M NOT FOOD YOU STUPID BIRDS!"

Another four crow flock over. One begins pecking at her chest. Another goes to scratching at her stomach. The last two go to work on her legs. Chance gives up screaming and begins to sob in agony. Another seven birds fly over to her and begin pecking at various parts of her body. Face included. She slams her eyes shut, grateful they are focusing on her nose and lips instead.

So this is it. You know, it's never been the aspect of dying that frightened me. Just the details. Everyone thinks they fear death. In reality they fear any number of things. How painful it will be? How long it will take? Some people would actually rather die young than wither away...what a waste. The rest fear the right after. What comes next? What will I leave behind? I never feared those two. I always believed that when your numbers up, it's up. Nothing can stop it. Maybe that's why I've always accepted it so well. Granted I do fear the pain that awaits me in the next few hours. Thank you google. But what I fear at this moment is that moment right before. Where you go thru the five stages. Denial. Fear. Anger. Sadness. And acceptance. Even in my past brushes with death I didn't have time to go thru one thru four. When you've accepted death once, you see things in a different way. It almost made that needle in my arm seem like bliss. If it weren't for the slight fear, that is. So as these crows eat me like I'm a corn buffet, I can't help but wonder what will happen when I'm found like this. Will I be mourned? Missed? Replaced? Will Dr Crane allow me a funeral? Or will I be tossed in a shallow grave without a second glance? Will I be identified for my mother? Will she regret leaving me thru most of my life? Will she care? Will she search for a new job? Will she contact my father, whoever he may be? Will she have another child? Try to forget her mistake? Erase all traces of me? How will she take the news that her only daughter...was a murderer? Will she rationalize that I'm insane? That it was against my will? That my mind was warped by someone greater than I? Will she burn all the memories in the fireplace at Christmas? Will she hate me? Or herself? Will she move away from this city to start anew? Or will she deny she ever had a child? Will she rationalize that I had murderous tendencies from birth? Lie to the media that Johnatan is a monster? That all of this is his doing? Will she go insane? Will she be the target of outrage and scrutiny? Will she discover that she was lied to intentionally? Will Harley bring her a plate of cookies out of guilt? Will Eddie bat an eye? Will Scarecrow do more than wonder what could've been? Do I feel any regrets? No. Do I blame anyone but myself? No. Well, other than this means of death. But still, I don't blame Harley. She chose her life just as I chose mine. I do not fear death, for the only thing to fear is fear itself. Goodbye Gotham. Although my life was short, I've lived it to the best of my ability. I feel my consciousness slipping, so I depart with these final words. Although nobody will hear them, they need to be spoken.

"I fear nothing."