Author's Note: This chapter title I took from that song 'If you want to step up, step up- you're going to get knocked down'. I don't own the song. I forgot who did though. Forgot the title of the song, too. Don't own it though...

Sorry for the wait. Been busy. Still busy... But I just had to update... Enjoy.

Chapter 13:

You'll Be Knocked Down

Pushing open the old, large wooden door, he walked into the dimly lit factory.

The floor was littered with broken glass, rusty objects, random papers, bird feathers, broken bottles, everything that a person would expect to find on the floor of an abandoned factory. Because of that, maybe they'd stroll around out of curiously for a short time, but finding nothing of interest, would turn and leave. They'd leave before walking deeper into the factory, find a door that lead to a staircase, which led to the basement. The basement was the room of interest. This room though, the entrance level, wouldn't at all be boring if a person would happen to walk in at this time. There were large, scruffy men in black standing with guns near the center of the room.

They all fell silent, looking to Jonathon as he entered the room, letting their guns drop to their sides. They backed out of the small circle they were previously in, allowing Jonathan to see Charlie. Charlie, without a gun, stood with his arms folded across his chest. Jonathan turned his piercing, harsh glare to Charlie who met him with his shoulders squared and jaw set. His posture was like he was challenging Jonathan. It was not at all amusing.

Jonathan closed the circle, stopping a good ten feet away from Charlie. Charlie said nothing, not daring to look away. The other men were staring between the two in silence, waiting. It reminded Jonathan of being in class when a disagreement between a teacher and student broke out. The teacher wouldn't give in and the student wouldn't step down while everyone else in the room glanced unsurely between the two, at each other, or down at their books. The silence was heavy and the tension was thick, but nothing was happening. They were each waiting for the other to say something.

The man who Jonathan ordered to find Charlie shifted from foot to foot, cleared his throat and asked, "How's Melissa?"

"Fine." Jonathan answered flatly, staring at Charlie still, "She's sleeping."

"Why isn't she here?" Charlie finally asked, his brows sinking into a scowl. "She's suppose to be with us. Helping us. You left her at your place though? What if she tells someone?"

"I doubt she would. We made a deal about it. I've got it all covered."

"And if she would?"

Jonathan moved his briefcase to his other hand, "I'd kill her."

Charlie scoffed. "No you wouldn't."

"Excuse me?"

"You've gone soft on her. An eight-fucking-teen year old." Complete silence from the others now. "Though we've all got needs as men, don't we?" Charlie smirked and looked to the others for agreement, but he received no replies. The smirk melted into the silence and Charlie looked back to Jonathan, still refusing to step down. "The girl knows what those needs are. With that slutty dress which you picked out, right? I saw her in the alley with Roger. Down on the ground with him." He scoffed again, "Whore."

Jonathan's knuckles were now white, gripping so tightly onto the handle of his briefcase. He felt his nails digging into the palm of his hand. He could feel the heat rising up his back, along his spine, to his neck, his head. The Scarecrow laughed madly in his mind.

Jonathan cracked his jaw, rolling his shoulders back. "Tell me Charlie, you're father's in the old folks' home just about a half an hour away from here, isn't he?" The cocky expression on Charlie's face died. "He doesn't have a clue to who you are, right? Your own father has no clue who you are..." Jonathan knew about the men that worked for him. About their reliability, their pasts, their families. He tilted his head to the side, in the doctoral manner, and asked, "What sort of outcome do you think he'd have if he was injected with my little toxin?"

Charlie fell silent, his face paler than a moment before. Jonathan walked closer to him, "You follow my orders... Do not question me, Charlie for the sake of yourself and your family. Have a little compassion. " Jonathan looked to the rest of the thugs with the 'the same goes for all of you' expression. They belonged to him as long as he needed them. There would be no mutiny from his thugs. He had the toxin, he always did. The Scarecrow was always with Jonathan. Always. Jonathan was a quick thinker. He was a psychologist- he knew more about their minds than they did. It was a dangerous weapon. If they wanted to try their luck with him- so be it.

"You two come with me, you four stay up here... Charlie... I think it's best that you leave for tonight. I don't believe I'll be needing you."

Jonathan walked past Charlie, towards the opposite end of the factory, with the two following behind him at a safe distance. Jonathan pulled open the door without a single glance back and walked down the creaky steps to the basement floor. Roger was strapped to a table, stirring every few moments, softly groaning.

Jonathan stood at the bottom of the steps, staring at Roger with his head to the side. This was one of the bullies he had endured throughout school. Taunting, teasing, traps, threats, brutal beatings. The same bully that stayed with him through college years with the same routine with a few new things added in. This was the one that had drugged Melissa, his Melissa, and had planned on doing God knows what to her. Innocent Melissa. Melissa... his ex-patient who had killed her parents. Delicate state of mind she had. Her foster brother wanted to take her away from Jonathan. He was in jail now though, awaiting psychologic analysis from Dr. Crane. Charlie had been questioning Jonathan. Insulting Melissa. Insulting his plan. Doubting him. The night was wearing on Jonathan and yet he needed to continue on. He wanted to.

Jonathan looked up the steps to the two thugs, still with their guns in hand, looking back at Jonathan, waiting for him to tell them one to do. "Stay at the bottom." He told the one on the right. He was sick of all the talking. All of the noise. He just wanted some silence. Just for a while. Some silence to collect his thoughts... Looking back to Roger, he addressed the one on the left.

"Gag him."