AN: Continuation of 'The Scarecrow Walks at Midnight'. What, you didn't think he'd leave her there, did you? Warning for…well…unpleasantries. I wouldn't eat anything while reading, really…
She comes to feeling numb and foggy. There's a dull ache somewhere on the right side of her body and she's sitting in a chair.
"There we are!" She doesn't know that voice. "How are you feeling?"
She opens her eyes. Sitting across from her is a man she's never seen before. Something about him makes her skin crawl.
"Who are you."
He chuckles.
"You haven't lived here long, I see."
"Who are you!"
"Depends on who you ask." he says, his voice still calm despite her shriek. "To some, I am the once esteemed Doctor Jonathan Crane, former head of Arkham asylum. To others…" He leans forward. "I am the Scarecrow."
What the hell…?
"Why me?"
"You were there."
"What about that other girl?" The dull ache is becoming more of a burning throb, but she can't worry about that right now. "What did you do to her?"
That makes him laugh, and he's still chuckling-oh god, what happened?-when a door above her opens up. A ray of light catches something shiny, but before she can see what it is the door closes again.
"I didn't do a thing." he says, his grin wide. "It says something about you, that you trusted her so easily."
"What?"
"Hullo, Kathy."
That voice she knows.
"You!"
"You really should be less trusting, sweetie." She drops down onto the arm of the chair and folds her arms across his shoulders. "About half of the population here is either barking mad or extremely self-serving."
"You bitch!"
They both laugh at that and Crane leans down.
"You may want this back."
And he throws something into her lap.
She doesn't realize what it is at first, only that it's kind of heavy and oozing. Then she gets a good look and everything comes rushing back.
Running lost foot scarecrow chased me oh my GOD
She shrieks and thrashes. The foot-her foot-falls to the ground.
"You won't be needing it. I gave you a heavy dose of painkillers, by the way. I can't have your screams of pain usurping your screams of terror."
"Batman will stop you!"
If there's really such a thing as Batman.
There must be, because before she can blink he's out of his chair and his fingers are tight around her throat.
"Don't. Say. That name."
She tries to lift her hands to push his off, but they're tied tight. Can't breathe can't breathe can't BREATHE
He's suddenly back in his chair, adjusting his glasses and putting a stray lock of hair back in place. She can feel bruises forming on her neck.
"So." he says, his voice slightly raspy but otherwise the playful tone from before. "I'm going to need you to answer some health questions. Nothing complicated, just the usual-are you taking any medications, that sort of thing."
She's still trying to catch her breath!
"Very uncooperative."
"I've noticed. Want me to paint her nails?"*
"Not yet, she'll come to her senses soon enough."
There has to be a way to stall him. Or appeal to his good side.
"Please…"
"Just answer the questions, dear. Pleading will do you no good."
"M-my mom, she's old, I have to check on her tomorrow…"
"What's the address? I'll pop in." Kitty says brightly. They find this funny, too.
"Please!"
"I don't think she's going to cooperate."
"Shame." He sighs and leans back in the chair, watching her through half-closed eyes. "I suppose we'll have to find out the hard way, won't we?"
"I suppose so. At least she has a driver's license, we can label her properly."
Label her? Label her for what?
"It's something. I'll untie her, she won't be going anywhere."
Think again, asshole.
But before he cuts the duct tape, he goes to the table and draws something yellow into a syringe.
"Ah…a little above average dosage for this one, I think. Take those painkillers into account."
"One-fifty?"
"One-seventy." He taps the syringe, nods, and makes his way over to her. "Just relax, it'll be easier."
Easier? Easier for what?
"Let me go, you sick fuck!"
"They always start swearing at this stage, have you noticed that?"
"It's the angry stage. She'll start trying to give us a friend if it doesn't kick in."
They laugh and he cuts the duct tape, letting her fall to the floor. The impact sends dull waves-what the hell did he give her?-of pain through her ankle.
She may not be able to walk, but she can crawl, and crawl she does-towards a staircase that looks more like Everest every minute. Her head is throbbing and her arms were not prepared to carry the load.
The stairs are moving. They seem to be wobbling off to the right. Why are they moving? Get back here, bitches!
"Motor…coordination…affected. Doesn't seem to be hallucinating though, that's worrisome."
"I told you the flowers looked a little sad."
"It'll work, it's just taking longer."
Her arms give out and she collapses, banging her nose on the cement and prompting a flow of blood. She tries to get up and can't, and then she sees a beetle.
Ugh. She doesn't like beetles. They're creepy and if they land on your finger they never let go. Besides, they have those horrid scratchy legs.
She struggles to rise before the beetle reaches her, but she honestly can't do it. it scurries into the little puddle of blood below her nose and she blows at it. It is unfazed.
Before she knows what's happening, it's rushed up her nose.
There's a second of disbelief before she starts screaming and trying desperately to blow it out. She can feel it buzzing against her nasal passages, moving downwards towards her throat and obstructing her breathing.
"What do you see?"
She opens her mouth and shoves her fingers in and up her throat, one tip brushing against a scratchy leg. It scurries back up, towards her nose, and leaves her gagging.
BAM!
She's vaguely aware of shouting, and things breaking, and then some kind of monster is kneeling before, injecting something into her leg.
Everything goes black after that.
THE END
*Kitty's definition of 'paint their nails' is 'rip said nails out with pliers'. Needless to say, the only colour she has is red.