Chapter Five: Arkham Uncommitted

Pulling the leather strap taunt, Harleen double checked Jonathan Crane's bindings then returned to her chair and took a sip of coffee. Her eyes watched him like a cat watches a bird, both eyes unblinking and concentrated. A guard stood in front of the door, even more statuesque in his pose than Harleen. Jim Gordon was also there, outside of the room, waiting for Crane to awaken. Surprisingly, he had been civil and actually very kind to Harleen considering the stress he was under.

One of the few good cops left. She thought sadly to herself, as she lifted the cup up to her mouth just so she could feel the warmth.

"…Scarecrow….Scarecrow…" Crane's lips moved, but his face seemed to hold no real animation. Placing down her cup, Harleen stood and walked over to him slowly.

"Dr. Crane?" He shook his head, as if repenting the name, then stared up at her eerily.

"Scarecrow…" he repeated, flexing against his bindings. As his eyes danced around the room, Harleen saw them land on Gordon at the window.

"I'll be back in a moment." She told him quietly, knowing full well he probably wasn't listening to her anyway.

"Is he awake?" Gordon asked, a coffee cup steaming in his own hands.

"Yes, he's delirious though, so take it easy." Harleen warned, opening the door behind her to indicate he was free to come in. She partially shut the door behind him and took over the seat he had been sitting in. The sound came in through perfectly from the crack of the door as she did an examination of her own.

"What was the plan, Crane? How were you gonna get your toxin into the air?" Gordon asked playing with Crane's mask in his hands as he spoke.

"Scarecrow. Scarecrow." Crane's words repeated slowly as he looked off around the room, Gordon continued anyway.

"Who were you working for, Crane?" This time his tone was more persistent.

Jonathan Crane's face shook and his eyes opened wide.

"Oh, it's too late, you can't stop it now." His lips curled into a miniature smile, and his shoulders rose with excitement. Harleen stopped writing, and put her journal down. Jim Gordon at the same time stood with agitation and left, tossing the mask to the guard as he did so.

Harleen watched him leave, then returned to the room and stood in front of the new patient.

She had so many questions in her head, why would he do this? How could he do this? He was a respectable doctor, with no history of mental psychosis, nor history of trauma. He had been a good functioning member of society, and now…this?

"You should leave Dr. Quinzel…While you still can." Crane broke the silence and looked over towards her; his mouth had lost all that was left of its humor.

She turned her head towards the guard and gestured for him to leave; he did so with a nod but stood close behind the door.

"Arkham is the safest place in Gotham right now." She retorted, crossing her arms in front of herself. He shook his head slowly in reply, his bright blue eyes still locked on hers.

"It's the least safe place."

"If you won't tell Officer Gordon, then tell me." Harleen ordered taking a step closer to him.

"Jonathan! Tell me what's going to happen." Taking his face in her hands, she made him look at her. A crash and a loud groan came from behind, and Harleen spun her head around quickly her hands still latched around his face.

"It's too late…It's already begun. I'm sorry Dr. Quinzel, but I'm afraid your time here at Arkham had ended."

Two swat men entered the room, one carrying Crane's mask. The other grabbed up Harleen and slammed her against the wall. Her glasses flew off as her head smashed against the wall, but as soon as she recovered her vision she latched onto his arms with her nails she kicked him hard in the stomach. She was instantly dropped from the wall, but as soon as she lifted her head to get up, it was met by the butt end of a gun. Collapsed on the ground, she briefly saw the man she had kicked get up aggregately and the other man whisper manically before tossing The Scarecrow his mask,

"Time to play."

Reaching an arm out in front of her, Harleen opened her eyes painfully as she tried to sit up. Her head throbbed with each heartbeat, and with every movement she felt as if she were about to collapse. As she looked in front of her she let out a burst of curses, Crane was gone, his bindings strewn about on the chair in a heap. Crawling over to the chair, she leaned up against it, and pulled herself onto it carefully facing the back wall. Falling over it, she clung on and breathed out heavily trying to gain the will to stand.

"Get up Harleen." She ordered herself, placing her feet steadily on the floor.

"Get up!" Holding her arms in front of herself she stood and sighed deeply. The spinning of her sight had all but gone, and her legs weren't quite so unstable. Walking out the door, she leaned against the wall slightly but moved with determination. To her horror the hall's tight security doors were wide open, with no patients to be found. A cold sensation gripped her stomach and her throat.

"Not the East Ward." She mouthed in fear as her hobbled walk turned into a hobbled sprint. Tossing open the Eastern Ward's door, she stumbled in then froze. They were all open and empty just like the others. Waylon Jones, Jervis Tetch, Arnold Wesker, Victor Zsasz. They were all gone.

Making her way through the other hallway, she stopped at a supply room. There she grabbed a bag, stashed it with Syringes filled with tranquilizers, and placed it over her shoulder.

Taking the back way out of Arkham, Harleen tried not to look at the factory that had caused this mess, but the image still consumed her. If only she had paid more attention that night, if only she hadn't been so afraid. Maybe she could have stopped it…maybe. After making it past the back gates, she was met by a wave of screams. All of the Narrows was swarmed with people running for their lives, while individuals in orange ran for their freedom. The police tried to be everywhere at once, but at the numbers she saw Harleen wasn't comforted. Then just as she assumed the situation couldn't get any worse, loud crashes came from down the streets and kept coming closer. Poisonous fumes followed, as the sewer grates exploded off of the streets. Keeping her eyes out for them, Harleen picked up her pace as they exploded behind her, each one getting closer and closer to her heals. Tripping over a curb, she fell onto the street as a grate went off a few feet from her head. The gas quickly filled her lungs as she desperately tried to cover her face with her coat. But it was too late. Her vision became even more blurry than it had been before, with every person around her taking a different demonic shape. Trying to get a hold of her fear, Harleen picked herself up legs quivering from fear induced adrenaline as she did so. The screams escalated, piercing her ears like sirens. One in particular caught her by surprise, as a man on a horse stampeded by with his head letting off electrical lights. Soon after passing her, he fell off the horse and heavily onto the street.

Prying herself off of the wall, Harleen limped over to his twitching form. Carefully, she took off her coat and wrapped it around her hand to swat the tazer extension off of his face. It worked, but not without giving her a shock as well. What was left in front of her was a smoking burlap mask, the scarecrow mask. It was deformed like all faces around her, with tiny insects and other critters crawling out of the slit like mouth. Pulling it off quickly, she was relieved to see Crane's face even if it was warped, hollowed, and pale. At least it was unconscious. As she looked around, everything became even more twisted. The more time she spent with this poison in her system, the closer she became to permanent insanity and worse, death. Pushing herself onto her knees, she began to stand but was caught off guard by a knife to her cheek.

"Going anywhere sweet cheeks?" Victor Zsasz's mouth whispered heatedly by her ear, as his knife pressed deeper into the scar on her face. Pulling her up, he held one arm around her waist tightly all the while keeping his other hand busy with the knife. Harleen couldn't answer him; she could feel his eyes on her as much as his blade. Remembering what they looked like during her session with him, she shivered and tried carefully to reach into her bag for a syringe. Stepping on his foot with all of her strength, he let go for a moment giving her enough time to twist her body around and scorpion kick him in the skull with a needle in hand. An enraged yell left his lips as he stumbled backwards, but quickly turned to an amused smirk as he wiped blood off of his cheek. Holding the syringe like a knife, she backed away from him slowly.

"Ah, ah, ah! I don't think that will be necessary Dr. Quinzel." Grabbing her throat quickly he cut across her hand causing her to cry out in pain and drop the needle. As he squeezed her whole body closer, with one arm across her back, she could feel her body begin to groan from the pressure. She couldn't move. Then once he returned his knife to her cheek, he smoothed it along her jaw, then down her neck, and onto her back.

"The human body is an extraordinary thing Dr. Quinzel, especially yours. With one jerk I could stab this blade into your spine, and paralyze your entire body. I've done it before, I've done everything before. "As he breathed into her ear, she could feel his blade quiver as it punctured through her shirt. It was then that more Arkham escapees began to file around like zombies; they're faces equally as horrifying and grotesque to her eyes. Even Victor seemed to feel they're stares.

"I wish I could take more time with you, you actually can put up a fight." He told her with mock regret. "But there is more to be done here. One doesn't stick to one ride at the fair; one wants to ride the whole park." Removing his blade from her back, Victor stabbed her deeply in the abdomen, then pulled out his knife and wiped it on his pant leg as he kicked her to the ground. Gasping and screaming at the same time, Harleen gritted her teeth as she tried to hold onto her stomach. Before the world around her began to fade into darkness, Harleen saw him give one last grimy grin and disappear with the rest of the mob deep into the alleys of the Narrows.