Chapter Twelve

"ALFRED!"

It was like a screaming animal was running circles through her brain.

"ALFRED!"

His haunting screams played through her nerves like fingernails on a chalkboard. It made her eyes burn with unfamiliar tears. Confusion plagued her stomach like a disease, rotting through her body with rapid pace, almost like fire burning away all feeling she might've possessed in her being. Everyone of her muscles felt like jelly, her throat raw as if it'd been skinned and drained of all moisture. She hated this feeling of enigma and mystery, of uncertainty and desperation. Her knees felt like they'd been ripped from underneath her.

"B-B..." her mouth couldn't form the words, nor could her voice put them into life. She shook her curls, world spinning before her eyes, tears making the skin beneath her mask burn uncomfortably. She barely noticed the people begin to emerge from the homes, the children running towards them in flocks. She lunged for the hallucinating, twitching vigilante and grabbed him roughly with her gloved hands. Yanking hard, she pulled him up and hoisted most of his weight onto her shoulder. She stumbled forward, overwhelmed with his mass amount of weight, the choking sobs erupting within her throat. She gasped as one pressed through her lips and struck the air with deafening reality. "Oh God," she sucked in a breath, "Dear God..."

He began to thrash violently while she carried him, huffing and grumbling and mumbling. He pushed out breaths of desperation, as if he were suffocating. Her shoulders began to twitch from his overbearing weight, but she stumbled into the shadows and down into a musky, dank alleyway. Reacher collapsed, dropping him to the cement and sinking to her haunches. She grabbed at her curls and pulled hard, the pain ringing numbly through her skull. Her face distorted and she let out a sob, falling to her bottom and resting against the damp, dirty wall. She began to hysterically cry, watching the man before her grasp onto the only sanity he had left within his mind.

Down the alleyway, towards the mouth she'd entered in, a black Bently screeched to an abrupt hault and the driver's door whipped open. A distinguished looking man with greying, receding hair rushed around the front of the car, looked both ways and hustled down the alley. Reacher immediately jumped her guard and grabbed an arrow. She slashed it from her grasp, fell forward and caught herself with her hands. The man yelp and drop to the ground out of defense.

"Don't shoot!" he exclaimed. A British accent rang from his mouth and pierced her ears, as if one of her own arrows had slammed into the skull of her head. She whipped her head up and blinked her tears back, then lunged forward towards him. That voice soothed all of her worries, as if it were a balm generously applied to the deep gash across her heart. "Please, miss, don't shoo-"

"Alfred!" she exclaimed desperately, "Alfred! Oh dear God, Alfred!" she attacked him in a giant hug, practically toppling him to the ground again with her massive greeting. Startled, the man pulled back from her and stared at her quizzically. Another cry burst from her lungs. "Oh, Alfred..."

His brows rose a few inches from his wrinkled face. "Dear God..." he looked up to the sky for a moment then seized her shoulders with a rough grasp, "Mari...Marianne?" he sounded shocked and she nodded quickly, looking around. "Is that you?"

Practically ripping the mask off her face, she nodded frantically and tossed her curls aside. "Yes, yes, it's me!" she left him and rushed towards Batman, replaced her mask, and dipped low to grab his shoulders. He'd stopped moving now, resigning to a lethargic state. Alfred hurried to assist her.

"Good Lord, what happened?" he asked quickly. He stooped low and then draped Batman's other shoulder across his own. "Has he been poisoned?"

"I don't know," she whispered thickly, "we have to get him home. We don't have much time." she stopped and grabbed his chin with her gloved hands, tilted her head to the side, and looked into his deepened, dark, glazed eyes. "Do not worry, my love," she whispered into his cowl, "you will live. I promise you, you will live."

Reacher seated herself in the backseat of the Bently, pulling Bruce's head onto her lap and frantically searching for a way to remove his mask. Her hands held a terrible tremble she could not stop, and Alfred whirled around from the front seat and reached inside the cowl. He did something and it released, and she ripped the mask from his face and gazed upon his sweating, paled skin. She touched it and gasped. Alfred handed her a syringe from the glove compartment, and she looked at him.

"A blood sample," he whispered quietly, "we need one if he's been poised. Lucius will run statistics for us at Wayne Enterprises." she took the syringe and pushed it back, then inserted it into his neck to draw blood. The scarlet stained the glass tubing as she pulled it back. Once finished, she pressed her gloved fingers against the spot and plugged the small needlestick. Tears dripped down her cheeks slowly and onto her suit.

"I'm sorry," she whispered quietly, pressing her lips against his clammy forehead. "I'm so sorry..."


Pain.

Deep, searing pain cascaded through his body like a burning wave of fire. It seemed to spread its fingers over his mind and whisper lies into his subconscious. It took the face of his mother and his father, trickling in and out of his memories. All their faces did was aid the pain in overtaking his body by sheer force. No matter how much he thrashed and fought the night, his strength could not overcome the pain staking his body. It was like a battlefield, consistently fighting to slowly decompose everything he once remembered in daylight. He was enveloped by cold, fear and pain. It was all he was.

Then, somewhere in the night, periodically, there was peace. It rushed his veins with warmth and desire, though this unknown tranquility was faceless and nameless unto him. He could barely remember it before it came, could barely feel it before it left. But what Bruce Wayne did know that it took on the most beautiful, relieving task able to give unto him. He prayed for its arrival daily. And daily it came.

He awoke sometime during the morning, because warm light pounded his skin like a war-drum. It played tricks with his mind, telling him that it was searing white pain that had come to destroy him from the outside in. But, this warmth he knew was sunlight, come to redeem him from the dark fear he'd resided in for what seemed like centuries.

The outline sitting before him was that of a man, he could tell. As his sight began to clear and come back into focus, he realized the receding hairline and snowy colored fluff on his head reminded him of Alfred. He blinked and pushed aside the covers, relying on the warm sunlight to bring him comfort. He shielded his eyes with a shaky arm and looked around the room. A small, cylindrical glass was given to him, freshly stirred with sometype of concoction. He accept it and wrapped his stiff fingers around the glass. Bringing it slowly to his lips, he gulped it down quickly. His eyes burned with redness upon recognition of sunlight. His cheeks were thick with salty trails of...tears?

He handed the glass slowly back to Alfred. "How long was I out?"

Alfred set the glass down carefully, pulling one leg up on the other knee. "Two days. It's your birthday."

Bruce rolled his eyes. "Happy birthday," he said sarcastically. "I've felt these effects before. Whatever this is very potent. I think it's a weaponized hallucinogen, probably administered by aerosol form."

"Bruce?" the soft knock on the door sounded lightly, and both men jumped to attention. Bruce leapt onto the bed and poised himself as if it were a threat, but once Alfred seated himself again he relaxed. Confused, Bruce wrinkled his brow and turned to his friend.

"What are you doing up there?" the female voice echoed across the room blazingly. Bruce whirled around and stared wide-eyed at woman he'd been dreaming of for days now. He feared she'd never speak to him again. But here she was. A smile pierced her lips. "You're not planning to jump me, are you?"

"Marianne?" he questioned, stepping off the edge of the bed. "What are you doing here?" He looked back to Alfred and wrinkled his brow. Alfred gestured to his friend and smiled cheekily at him.

"I called the good doctor after you're condition worsened. She's been here for two days. She and-"

"-you really know how to pick the clubs, don't you, Mr. Wayne?"

The dark man appeared from the door, hands in his khaki pockets, greying hair terribly misplaced with the black color of his skin. His smirk was also displaced, completely displaced with his intelligent, gentlemanlike personality. Lucius Fox stood beside Alfred, placing one hand on the back of his chair.

Bruce looked back at Marianne. "What...?"

"I called Mr. Fox after I couldn't flush your system with saline and antihallucinogens. He analyzed your blood for me." she turned to him. "And did hours worth of work to produce an antidote. Really, Mr. Fox was the one who saved you."

Bruce stared at her, perhaps the happiest man alive to see her standing before him. He didn't notice he was half naked from the waist up, but she didn't seem to care either. Bruce just took in her presence and he felt tears threatening to burst from his eyes. He forced them back and stepped towards her, completely astounded that she'd come back to him. It seemed all air had been taken from the room and from his lungs.

She tilted her head to the side and outstretched an arm, placing her palm against his cheek and stroking her jawline with her thumb. Black circles rounded her eyes and exhaustion tugged at her features, but he'd never dreamed of seeing an angel so...beautiful before. How could he have missed her? "What on earth did you take, Bruce?" she whispered quietly, "It almost killed you."

"I'm fine," he said back hastily. He jerked away from her and turned to Fox. "So. This antidote. Can you make more of it?"

Fox's brow rose a few inches. "You plan on gassing yourself again?"

Marianne stepped between him and Alfred and looked up at him, pushing up her glasses farther on her nose. Her brow wrinkled in confusion and she looked at him with confusion dotting her features. "Bruce? What on earth do you need more of it for?"

"You know," he gave her his famous half smile and touched her shoulder, stepped around her, and approached Fox again. "A guy's on the town, looking for kicks, and someone hand him a weaponized hallucinogen. What's the world come to these days?"

Fox chuckled. "I'll bring you what I have. But, for now it should work for an inoculation. Stay away from the unmarked labels, will you, Mr. Wayne? You could get yourself hurt, you know." He clapped a hand on Alfred's shoulder. "A pleasure, Alfred."

"Lucius."

Fox approached Marianne and smiled at her and took her hand playfully. Touching her knuckles to his lips, he stared at her and winked. "Thank you for your assistance, doctor. You're a quick learner. Stop by if you ever need anything."

Bruce frowned and Marianne blushed. "I sure will, Mr. Fox. Thank you for your help. You're a lifesaver."

He winked again. "I know. See you later, doctor."

He exited and left the three of them alone. Marianne tightened the sash of her a periwinkle satin robe and raised her brows as if she were looking for an excuse. She smiled tightly and turned on her heel. "I'll go make some tea. You," she pointed a threatening finger at him, "better be in bed when I get back. Sleep is your best friend for now. Especially when you have a party tonight."

He rolled his eyes sarcastically. "You're worse than my mother."

She chuckled and leaned against the heavy oak door. "I know. Alfred, the caterers want to know what china to serve on. The royal blue or the pearl senate. I'll leave those minions to you." She wiggled her fingers and exited quietly. "Bed. Now."

He plopped down on the bed, feigning defeat. "Fine." she disappeared and he shot up, hurrying for the door. He leaned against the frame, crossed his arms over his bare chest, and crossed one foot over the other. Marianne stopped and looked over her shoulder. "Marty,"

She turned. "Yeah?"

He gave her a shy smile and swallowed hard. "I'm sorry. What I said-it's...wrong. I know Dad would want me to be more forgiving, it's just..."

She stopped him with a soft smile. "Sometimes we learn things the hard way, even if it means God tossing us a hardball once and awhile. I'm praying for you, Bruce, and that's all I know what to do."

He blinked at her and then ran his fingers through his hair. "Thanks. For, well, everything, Marty. I don't know where I'd be without you."

She laughed and wrapped her arms around her stomach. "You'd be..." she chuckled and shrugged a shoulder. "you'd be right about where you are now. I'm nothing special, Bruce. I'm just...here."

She turned on her heel and headed down the flights of stairs, just as quietly as she'd come.


Alfred joined me in the kitchen shortly after Bruce and I's "talk" in the hall. I assumed his presence meant that Bruce had retreated back into bed to rest. I was relieved of this and somewhat angered. The least the man could do was come and talk to me after having spent two days living at his side. I guess I could forgive him that, especially after he'd so humbly apologized for his behavior.

It was much harder to forgive him for his secrets.

I shrugged my emotions off and glanced up from my lunch preparation to find Alfred smile at me and shoo away the last of the women waitresses preparing for the birthday dinner. She obliged, taking the case of lime green and white candles. The swinging door fell back into place shortly after she left. Alfred began to wash a dish in the ceramic, old-fashioned sink.

"Alfred," I said curtly, biting my tongue the next instant. This man did not deserve my disappointment and anger. What he deserved my questions and my investigation.

"Marianne." he said calmly. "I'm afraid I have some explaining to do."

I set the fork down beside my bowl of Ramen and took it up, plopping myself on the counter and grabbing the fork. Lunging it into the bowl of steaming noodles, I began to twirl the metal and gather the mound of noodles for a bite. "You bet you do. Begin before I slash you're throat and go up there and remove Bruce's...vital appendages."

Alfred chuckled. "I know this is alot to take in, Miss, but-"

"Alfred!" I interjected quickly. "Alot to take in? My gosh, the man is Batman! Feared, hysterical, dangerous Batman! He's been running around Gotham half-cocked and here I thought he was some ninja or something!" I rolled my eyes and pointed a fork at him. "I'm assuming he was training in Tibet for this, wasn't he?"

The distinguished gentleman clasped his hands in front of him. "I do believe he was training, Miss. For Batman, I'm not so confident. I think Master Bruce was finding himself, much like another young lady I know who took to the deserts of Australia to squash down her...heart, for lack of a better word."

I scowled at he Englishman. "That is different, Alfred. I was distressed over Bruce's sudden disappearance. And not only that, I had that lined up long before he ever left. Reacher...she began the aftermath of the entire desert. She became me." I pointed the fork towards myself. "He became Batman. There is an entire difference here. I control Reacher." I jabbed the utensil back into the bowl of noodles. I twirled it around and looked into the steam, then straight ahead to the mahogany cabinets lining the kitchen.

"So?"

I closed my eyes and forced back more tears, "I fear that..." I swallowed back a sob, "...I fear that Batman controls Bruce."

Alfred tipped his head to the side and clucked his tongue against his teeth. I set the bowl down out of aggravation and slid off the counter and covered my face with my palms. Tears dripped between my fingers and before I knew it, Alfred enveloped me in a tender, father like hug. I rested my forehead against his chest and inhaled his gentle scent.

"Now my dear," Alfred cooed softly, "Bruce can handle his creation. And God can handle Bruce," he tipped my chin back and stared into my eyes, confidence and encouragement radiating from his own. "all you must do is wait. God never gives anything more than we can handle. At least, that's what you're mother always said."

I nodded. "I know," I whispered. "But Batman is so...fierce. Unmoving. I thought Bruce was more moldable than that."

"Bruce is many things," Alfred chuckled. Then he tilted his head and smiled gently. "but he is not beyond hope."

"Does he have any idea...?"

Alfred shook his head. "Not a clue. He's wondering about Reacher, though. What shall I tell him?"

I stepped away from him and took up my bowl. Fishing a fork-full of the cooling Ramen into my mouth, we both turned as the echoing bells rang from the foyer. Turning back to Alfred, I set the bowl down and sucked a run-away noodle between my lips. Wiping my chin with the cuff of the satin robe, I swung open the doors and looked to the ceiling.

"Tell him Reacher is never far away."

Then I hurried to the foyer. Leaving Alfred to care for the caterers, I grabbed the knob on the door and hurled it open. I was surprised to find Rachel standing before me, in a plain black suit, purse strap over one shoulder. I noticed her Ford was still running outside. She tipped her head to the side and immediately attacked me in a hug. "Marianne!" she hugged me tightly and I did the same to her. "Gosh, I heard what happened! Are you okay?" she touched my cheek as if she were my mother and hugged me tightly again. "You weren't hurt in the fire, were you?"

I shook my head. Forgotten tears sprang to my eyes as I thought of my crackling home, lost to the unforgiving, relentless flames of an explosion. Pain tugged at my heart as I thought of my poor friend Curley...a sob escaped me in a breath. "No, I'm okay," I sighed shakily, "I'm okay."

"I tried to call but you must've lost your phone," she said with a soft smile. "Where's your car?"

Oh, yeah. I'd forgotten my precious Outback. "Vandalized," I said quietly. "Rach, I don't understand," I hated lying to my friend, but I couldn't really outright tell her the truth without compromising my identity. So, I sucked in another shaky breath and scratched my wrist. "all these things..."

"Rachel?"

We both looked behind me to see Bruce rubbing his eye with his wrist and stumbling through the foyer. I wrinkled my brow and frowned at him, swiping at my eyes with my wrist and erasing the tears from my complexion. She smiled at him and placed a hand in her pocket and left it here. I stepped aside and let him join our now triangle of friendship. Just like the old times. Memories flooded my head and attacked my emotions brutally. He couldn't keep his eyes off her, as usual, and I was the third wheel. Rachel, well...she was Rachel.

"Looks like you've been busy." she chuckled. "You look exhausted."

He shrugged a shoulder, grinning handsomely. "It's my birthday."

She nodded tenderly. "I know. I'm sorry I can't come tonight. I'm just dropping off your present." she pulled her hand from her pocket, exposing a small box tied with blue ribbon. I stared at it in confusion and then jerked my attention back to them. She was about to speak when an annoying chirp burst from her pocket. She retrieved the phone and flipped it open.

"Dawes." There was a brief pause as she switched from sweet, funny Rachel into serious, lawyer mode. "What!? Who authorized that? No, no, get Crane down there right now-don't take no for an answer, Craig...call Dr. Lehmann," she stole a quick look at me. "Never mind. Get Crane down there, and I'll bring a doctor. We'll need our own assessment on the Judge's desk by morning." she slapped the phone shut and cocked her hip, looking at me as if I'd transformed into a dog for her to use. "Marty..."

"What's wrong?" Bruce asked tentatively.

I wrapped my arms tighter around my abdomen, ignoring the tenderness where my gunshot wound was healing. "Oh no..."

"It's Falcone. Dr. Crane's moved him to Arkham on suicide watch." She stared at me heavily. "I need a doctor's assessment by morning, Marty."

Bruce looked worried I gulped. The last time I'd journeyed to Arkham uninvited I'd almost ended up a burger on the tarmac below. And I really had no respectful thing to say to Jonathan-I'd have all I could do not to pin him beneath me and scratch his eyeballs from his skull. But, I sighed and shrugged a shoulder. "What? You're going to Arkham now?" he asked aggressively. "It's in the Narrows, Rachel."

She tossed him and look and then me one. "Marty. Please. This is important."

I sighed and scratched my scalp. "I'm going to regret this. Fine. I don't have any clothes, thought, Rachel..."

"Wait, what? You're both going down to the Narrows? No way. Marty, you've already been shot once and-"

Rachel's eyes widened. "Shot!? What? Marty, oh Lord are you okay?" her complexion paled and I help up a hand to stop her rampage of worried remarks. I glared at Bruce and then sighed. I gave him a look and waved him off. "What are you doing down there anyway...?" her voice trailed and I shot her a 'don't-you-dare' look.

"It's a long story. I'll be fine," I smiled at Bruce. "Besides. Crane and I are friends. I'll be okay, Bruce. I promise," I stopped before him and planted a kiss on his cheek, then wrinkled my nose at him. "Rest up. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Marty, I don't feel alright about this," he watched Rachel head towards her car, then looked down at the present she'd awarded him. I shrugged a shoulder and rolled my eyes at him. "It's dangerous."

I chuckled. "It's okay. Nothing will happen, I promise. I'll meet up with you tonight and everything will be hunky-dory, okay? Just let me do this. The Narrows...it's, well, it's where my heart is. And Rachel needs this. Don't worry so much. You'll wrinkle up that face of yours. That billion dollar look needs to stay as handsome as possible." I patted his cheek with my fingertips playfully. "Stop worrying about me. I'm a big girl. God is with me. Have some faith, would you, Bruce?"

"Marty!" Rachel laid in on the horn of her Ford. "C'mon! Appay's just opened. We can get you some clothes. We don't have much time!"

I gave my attention back to Bruce and looked at him over the top of my glasses. "See? Duty calls."

"Marianne..."

I hurried out the door and blew him a kiss as I descended the stairs. "Bye!" I jumped the last three and hit the pebbly driveway with force and hurried towards Rachel's car, the ground moving beneath my bare feet. "I'll see you tonight!" Smacking the car door back into place, I buckled the seat belt and waved to him before Rachel roared from the drive. He disappeared into the manor.

I hope the night would be batless.


Rachel's idea of "casual wear" was very different from mine. While I argued about buying a simple pair of slacks with a nice white blouse, she argued and told me I wouldn't have time to change for Bruce's party, so I needed something more than decent. She whipped out her American Express and paid for the first outfit I tried on.

It was a pair of ash grey flair khaki's with pleates down the front, matched with bright green heels about four inches tall. The shirt was a silk, butter-yellow button down which knotted at the bottom, with a business pull over that matched my pants. I'd quickly tied my curls into a very messy ponytail and exited the shop, hot on Rachel's heels. I felt ridiculous, but tried not to blush as a passing man looking alot like James Bond gave me a once-over.

We roared through the Narrows and made great time. Rachel navigated quick irradically-we had to stop and turn around twice, but we still arrived at the asylum within an hour of leaving the Manor. We parked haphazardly and hustled towards the asylum, where we were greeted by two rough looking security guards and escorted downstairs by the elevator. I felt surrounded and caged, which wasn't a good mixed for a mad vigilantress. I pushed up my glasses on my nose and hoped none of the looking inmates recognized the outline of my face.

We stopped on the floor above the basement and roughly exited the elevator at the guard's prodding. Confused, Rachel and I hustled on, determined to be the epitome of feminine grace and independence. Rachel was hot under the collar, and that was fine. I had a few things I wanted to tell Crane too. We stopped abruptly when we spotted him in the middle of the hallway. He turned his attention to a room, where Rachel and I peered in-between the barred window to see Carmine Falcone strapped to a table, twitching irregularly and mumbling.

"Scare...scarecrow...ss...sscar..."

She glared at the man and he stared cooly back at her. I wished I could bore a hole right in the middle of his face with a hot look, but refrained and decided to play the mediator bid with them. "Ms. Dawes, most irregular. I have nothing to add with the report I filed with Judge Faden." he looked right at me. "I see you've chosen an ally to backstab me with. Afternoon, Dr. Lancer."

"Jonathan," I said calmly.

Rachel looked between us. "Well, I have some investigations against you're report you filed, Dr. Crane," she gave him an off look and then thrusted a finger out towards Falcone's cell. "Isn't is highly peculiar that a fifty-two-year-old man with zero history of mental illness-or hereditary illness-to suddenly go completely nuts and have a psychotic break on the brink of his indiction?"

She scowled at him as Jonathan tossed me a look. "As you can see, there isn't anything 'highly peculiar' with this man's sudden disease, Ms. Dawes. You should be able to tell that much, shouldn't you, Doctor?" he mentioned to me with his head. "Medicine is about compassion and understanding. neither of which is being exercised at this irregular meeting."

Rachel considered Crane's words and stared at Falcone from the corner of her eye. "What's 'scarecrow'?" she questioned with a shot.

"Patients sometimes focus their psychosis on an outward tormentor," he shrugged, "usually in a Jungian form," he looked at her with a smirk, "in this case, a scarecrow."

"It's unusual," I replied quietly, "Falcone's never before-as far as I've heard-had any form of weakness. Psychotic or not, I don't believe he'd just suddenly break down before being indicted. It almost seems...induced. It's strange Jonathan," I approached the door with my arms crossed over my chest and wrinkled my brow. "There's alot of unanswered questions here." I stared at the man's face, seeing his eyes extremely bloodshot, with drooping around the edges and black rings forming around his once incredibly powerful eyes. The sluggishness in his mumbling striked a chord inside my medical training. "He's drugged?" I glanced at Jonathan.

Jonathan nodded and appeared briefly apologetic. "Psychopharmacology is my primary field, Dr. Lancer." he pushed up his square-frame glasses and rolled back on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back. "Out there he was a giant, Ms. Dawes. In here the mind can only grant you power. A strange reversal."

"You enjoy it." Rachel added harshly.

"I only respect the power the mind has over the body," Crane tipped his head to Falcone's deranged state, "It's why I do what I do. In a way it seems strange, but in the end I only want to help people."

Rachel lost all sense of restrait and thrust a finger at him. "I do what I do to put people like Falcone behind bars, Crane!" I stepped between her and pushed her hand down. She jerked away from me. "Marty!" she turned back to him after snapping at me, "I'm having my own consult go in and do a full psycological-and physical-exam. Including bloodwork to find out exactly what the crap you have him on is!" she glared at him and shook her head. "He will be brought to justice, Crane. Not even an insanity bid is gunna get him out of it."

Crane shrugged and stepped by us, my eyes following this strange man's movements. He stepped past the guards and gestured for us to follow him to the elevators. Rachel and I did hesitantly, alarm ringing throughout my head. I wished I had my bow, because I felt like nocking an arrow, just out of habitual instinct. I pushed Rachel ahead and brought up the rear, one guard behind me. Nervous as we boarded the elevator, Crane pushed the 'B' button and down we shot.

As we five stepped off the car, Crane gestured politely for us to go first. I wrinkled my brow and approached the railing, the same one as I had the night before. Gulping, I watched as the orange jumpsuited inmates continuously labored to pour the cans filled with chemicals into the water supply. Giving my attention to Crane, I saw Rachel's eyes widen as the guards gestured for us to descend the stairs quickly.

We obeyed. Me hesitantly, Rachel hotly. We stared as inmates began to refine a white colored powder, which looked alot like Cocaine. My brow furrowed as they glanced up at us only enough to glare and then go back to work. I recognized his vacant eyes belonging to Zsas, the murderer who kept track of his slaughters by making tallies on his body. Tingling began to overtake my body and my feet burned. Something was very wrong here, and by the look on Crane's face, it wasn't in our favor.

"Well," Crane signed, "this is where we make all the goodies." he smiled at us and chuckled. My eyes widened as Zsas scooped up an aerosol can and began to shake it. Crane accepted the cylinder and clasped his hands behind his back again. He whispered something to Zsas who then left, and turned back to us, shaking the can in his hand. The night Batman had went completely primal rushed a warning into my blood.

"Rachel! RUN!" I exclaimed hard. She whipped a look at me as the guard beside her lunged for her arm. She screamed and jerked back, and I elbowed my guard in the face and then the solar-plexus. He doubled over and I whirled back around, lifting my leg to knock Zsas right in the mouth. "GO! The elevator! NOW!"

She took off towards the stairs, grabbing on and flinging herself over the railing. She whipped off her heels and burst up the stairs two at a time, leaving me to deal with the muscle. I round-housed another man, the heel of my shoe lodging itself in his chin. He screamed and fell backwards. I whipped around and watched Rachel scurry around the corner. Multiple inmates hurried after her, but I quickly lept over another and removed my shoe. Hurling it towards the man in the lead, it collided with his head and he tripped and fell back, sending the men flailing down the fleet of stairs. I smirked and spun around to see Crane, downed in a very frightening gunny-sack looking mask with slashes for eyes and a ventilator for a mouth. I raised a brow in a quirk and he stopped the oncoming inmates from attacking me with a raised hand.

"Maybe you should have some of my goodies," his voice suddenly warped into that of somekind of demonic creature and he held up the cylinder. Before I could react he sprayed it, the strong mist swirling around my face and purging a course through my senses. Immediately my mind began to fog and images flashed before my eyes.

Terribly, squiggly images began to dance before my eyes, hissing at me and lunging for my eyes. I screamed and dropped to my knees, swatting at my face to remove the dangerous objects threatening to eat my eyes from my skull. They squirmed around me and bit my face, my hands, my arms, lacing around my lungs and stealing all air from my chest. My brain felt constricted by their body muscles. Their venom laced my veins and sent spiking heat throughout my entire body. These things seemed to replace my hair and hissed and bit at me. Crane knelt before and coaxed them on, laughing and commanding their venom to sink into my skin.

"Who knows you're here, Marianne?" his electrical voice pounded through my brain and he grabbed my throat. I gasped and stopped fighting the numberous, ganging, hissing reptiles and focused my eyes on the swimming figure before my eyes. Fear grabbed my soul and I closed my eyes, forcing out a word from my mouth. A prayer escaped me in a breath.

"Jesus, please...rescue...me..."

"WHO KNOWS!?" he roared.

He dropped me and I collapsed on the ground. Darkness flickered across my eyes, these reptiles with ruby eyes continually hissing and biting and taunting me. I curled into a fetal position, only half aware of my movements, screaming and commanding them to leave me alone. They only grew strong and more populous.

Then, I heard breaking glass.

The hissing beings ate away at my face, pain spiking a course through my body. I managed to press myself against the cool, dilapidated wall and began to twitch violently as if I were having a seizure. Some faint amount of training managed to break through the chaos ensuing in my brain and I remembered to keep my head somewhat stable. I strained to watch the unfolding scene before my eyes, a black, horrifying figure attacking orange blobs and tossing them aside.

Then, he approached the man in grey, with the brown frightening mask. He grabbed him and hoisted him into the air, and then dropped him roughly. The snakes continually bit and hissed, their venom making her mind begin to boil. She found it hard to remember to breath, and how, well, that seemed impossible. I had all she could do not to scream bloody murder there against the wall.

The black thing stood over the grey one, hollaring horrifically at him. His voice sounded thick, raspy and dangerous. Terror plagued me and brewed within my stomach, rising into my throat. Within moments I vomited the terrible venom from my stomach. The stinging heat preyed on my throat and ate away at my muscles.

Black blob turned to me and approached slowly, dangerously. I straightened and pushed myself against the wall, the hissing creatures continually falling in my face and biting at my eyes. I thrashed to move them aside, but to no avail did they comply. Horrifying noise erupted somewhere outside these walls and I screamed as the blob knelt before me. His face was horrible, like that of a vampire, with dripping fangs and steepled ears. I glared at it and screamed, thrashing and kicked and biting as he grabbed my forearm.

"No! GOD! Help me, God! PLEASE! No, no!" I sobbed, screams silencing as the creatures attacked my skin. My eyes burned, glasses shattered by their fangs. I was off the ground now, two huge muscles suspending me in the air. I vomited again, this time all over myself. I didn't care and hollered loudly, pounding a weak, bloodied fist against him. A slimy, slithering body crushed beneath my fist.

"NO! Get away from me! GOD! Now! Jesus, HELP!" I hollered hoarsely. "NO! No! NOOOO!" I ripped at the snakes in my face and pain spiked up my head. "Get off of me! NO! SNAKES! Oh God help!"Something sharp struck my neck. A fang?

No.

A syringe.