Scarecrow:
"Stop it! Leave her alone!" Their sensations are so distorted, they don't even realize they're screaming the same thing.
I make a game of it, seeing how close I can get the knife to Alice's back without touching her. The way she's thrashing, it isn't easy.
My assistant sprays us all with reheated pigs' blood. It may improve the effects of this mask, but I will enjoy a good scrubbing and a change of clothes when I'm done. There are times when I miss the amenities of civilization—electricity, running water, central heat. But the only consistent place for me to find such things in Gotham is inside Arkham, and I'm not as enamored of the place as I once was.
Neither are they, I'm sure.
I grow tired of the game, so I take off my mask and stand over Emily. Just stand there.
If anything, her screaming intensifies.
Interesting.
I decide it's time to separate the pair. Emily fights me like a wild animal, but there is nothing she can do. I drag her, screaming, down the hall.
"Al!" she cries again and again.
I laugh at her.
"I'm afraid you'll get no help from that direction. Not anymore."
--
Al:
I spend the rest of that day in hysterics. They take me to the bathroom. They let me eat. I hardly notice. They take me back to that room and leave me to look at the blood.
I feel sick.
--
Scarecrow:
Emily lies perfectly still. How sad that I have shattered her so quickly.
Alice is on another monitor, still weeping. Soon I will begin to work on her in earnest.
I relish the thought. Her will is stronger than her friend's. She will be a most interesting subject.
I go back to her that night. She has exhausted herself; still chained to the wall, she is slumped over, in a deep sleep.
I study her face in the darkness.
This could have been me, if I had been born a girl. Tall, thin, and angular, thick glasses, strawlike hair—she even has my coloring. Her face has a certain fullness to it, though. She has always been well fed, well dressed, well cared for by her family.
This woman is not like me.
Her glasses are sliding down her nose. I push them back up. She stirs, but does not wake.
Holding her chin in my hand, I tilt her face toward the light. She is tearstained and bloody. I have already made a mess of her.
She mutters something in her sleep.
It sounds like, "I'm sorry."
I consider letting her wake up with my eyes an inch from her own. That was enough to reduce Emily to a gibbering wreck. But I think Alice may require different tactics.
I leave her alone for now.
Time enough and more for what I want to do.
--