Author's note: Crap. I had another Dead Eddums dream, and woke up sad again. Now that I know what happened to him, this story has a plot and I'm going to have to continue it. Curses.
Don't be surprised if the person who did it gets set on fire. My dream was particularly unpleasant.
I went back to the Scarecrow. I couldn't just skip out on him, and I felt pretty safe about not being followed.
I tried to be very calm and rational as I explained to him what had gone wrong on the job, how I got separated from the others, and the steps I took to get back to him afterwards. I made no mention of Nightwing or the Riddler. And then I logically laid out the reasons why I didn't think I should work for him anymore. I didn't mention that he scared the hell out of me, because of course that's what he wanted, and it wasn't a very good reason to leave him.
I tried to be calm, but honestly, just talking to him was one of the hardest things I've ever done, and telling him something he wasn't going to like made it that much worse.
I made sure to do this away from the other guys, so he wouldn't have to lose face if he did decide to let me go. I saw someone try to split from the Joker once in full view of the rest of the gang…trust me, the Joker didn't take that well at all.
And guess who had to be the one to mop it up. That's right, Claire Stone, hench wench extraordinaire.
Like some guy called Big Harry can't work a mop just as well as I can. Honestly, I'd hate to see how some of these guys lived if they didn't have me around to pick up after them.
Well, lucky for me, the Scarecrow handled rejection a lot better than the Joker did. And lucky for the lair, too, because I doubt any of that particular gang would even know how to clean up my splatters.
He didn't even gas me.
Oh, he also didn't pay me, which is a little unfair—after all, I did do my part in the heist. But I decided not to press my luck.
So I was back out on the street, momentarily a free woman, not much worse off than I had been the day before.
Until I got mugged, that is.
That's right, mugged.
You'd think someone who'd spent the last five years shuffling around as Henchman Number Three for every major villain in Gotham would be immune to that kind of thing. Not me. Not lucky little me.
Stupid city.