A New Roommate

I sat in the uncomfortable chair I'd been guided to, but that was the last thing I was going to do tonight without having answers. I think considering the circumstances, I deserved to know what the hell was going on. I could feel my heart rate speed up as I sat in the middle of what looked like a meth lab. Somehow though, I didn't think these people were in the simple business of dealing drugs.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the creepy guy in the burlap mask coming at me with a syringe. I twitched to one side of the chair, futilely trying to put some space between he and I. There was no way I was letting this guy use what was most likely a dirty syringe to stab me.

"No! Stop!" I was officially panicking. My current situation was finally starting to sink in and it wasn't pleasant. I never sympathized with animals, not even the one time my dad tried to take me hunting, but now that I was the caged animal, I felt nothing but the utmost sympathy. I couldn't be slaughtered in a sketchy motel on the outskirts of Gotham like some cheap hooker. I had to act now. I started to rise from my chair, but the thugs around the room closed in on me. I finally just asked what I'd been thinking since the moment I saw Roman get shot, "What the hell is going on here!?"

"If you'd keep her still for me, Dent." The masked man asked, his voice coming out in a breathy whisper through the mask. I didn't like the authority he held in his voice-like he was used to being in charge. I felt even less safe when I felt Two-Face's hands land on my shoulders. Who was this guy and how was he getting Two-Face, of all people, to take orders from him? Before I could gather my thoughts, I was pushed back down into the rickety chair with a force I hadn't expected. Two-Face was strong, stronger than I would've thought. Don't forget that either, Violet.

"Somebody tell me what's going on!" I demanded, but my voice sounded weak even in my own ears. My shaky voice was met with silence; the only sound was coming from the bubbling and hissing of chemistry equipment. Suddenly, the masked guy lurched forward and grabbed my wrist in a vice like grip. I opened my mouth to protest, but he painfully twisted my arm around so the inside of my elbow was exposed to him. Nobody bothered to answer my pleas for an explanation, so I decided to go with another approach. I kicked the guy in the mask as hard as I could in the shin. Too bad you couldn't reach a little higher. Two-Face let out a throaty chuckle.

"Hold her still!" I probably shouldn't have pissed off the crazy guy holding a syringe, but I was willing to take any shot I could get at preventing the inevitable. This time the masked guy wasn't so lax in his approach. He stood to the side instead of right in front of me, his whole body noticeably rigid. I took note that this guy was probably someone who loathed being embarrassed, which went hand in hand with my "someone used to being in charge" hypothesis. I watched in horror as he grabbed my arm again and plunged a needle into my pale flesh. He quickly filled the needle with my blood with expert dexterity. I watched the dark red liquid, a piece of me, be forcibly taken from my body, filling the small vial to the top. I got one last look of my blood before the masked man quickly moved to a table in the back of the room. I thought I heard him mutter something to himself, but I didn't catch what it was.

During that whole ordeal, my eyes had gotten used to the darkness of the lab. I now took the time to glance around the room; I was able to see the darker parts I hadn't been able to when we first arrived. What I saw wasn't comforting in the slightest. There were barrels, perhaps dozens, sitting around the edge of the room that were filled to the brim with a murky liquid. My heart sank; I knew as soon as I saw it that the liquid in the barrels was the same "medicine" I'd been getting injected with at Arkham. Even worse, if all of these barrels were full, there was a lot of that stuff in this room. Think of how much a small dose a day was affecting you. Now imagine how much damage this amount could do. My mouth was suddenly bone dry.

The masked man returned to my side. Unfortunately, I noticed he had returned with another empty syringe. I tried to talk but a mere squeak came out. If he heard it, he didn't let on-it seemed like he was too caught up in whatever experiment he was conducting on me. When I tried again, I managed to get my question out, "Why are you taking my blood?" I tried to look in his eyes, but his face was cloaked in a heavy shadow from the hood draped over his head.

Once again, this Crane guy acted like he hadn't heard me. I was starting to accept the fact that I wasn't going to be getting any answers from anyone here. I wasn't even going to get a reason for my own death. I watched as he removed the second syringe from my arm, expecting him to walk away again. This time he didn't; he continued to stand there staring at me. At least I thought he was staring at me since I couldn't quite tell. Two-Face was still holding me down in my seat and I felt his grip tighten a little, "Crane." I was surprised to hear a flicker of warning in Two-Face's tone. Who was this guy?

"For such an inconsequential person, you sure do ask a lot of questions." Crane tilted his covered head to the side slightly, as if examining me. My insides squirmed. He was definitely someone who was used to getting his way. His condescending tone actually reminded me of Eddie a little. I was starting to get the feeling that all of the villains in this city were pompous assholes. I watched as the Crane guy turned around, expecting him to move away once again after his jibe about me being inconsequential, but what happened next took me completely off guard. He slowly turned back around, his hooded face now pointing directly towards me. His head tilted to the side again and in the same arrogant voice he used moments ago, he said, "Oh, and this was for the kick." Before I could register what was happening he brought his hand up, palm facing my confused face, and sprayed a cloud of something directly into my face.

"Dammit, Crane!" I faintly heard Two-Face saying this from behind me, but everything was suddenly on fire. I had gasped when Crane sprayed whatever it was, which meant I inhaled a big whiff of it. Huge mistake.

I look down at my body-or what used to be my body. My skin suddenly looks like it's bubbling and beginning to peel off. But what's worse is I can feel the pain. It's burning. My insides are burning up. My body is burning from the inside out. I start screaming and panicking; my mind suddenly flashes to the guards in the hallway back at the asylum-the ones who were burned to a crisp and that's when I know what's happening to me. I'm burning because I made them burn too. It was all my fault. Somewhere through my madness I can feel my cheeks becoming wet, but this time it's from the tears streaming down them, not sprinklers. I'm not in the asylum anymore-I'm in hell.

"Somebody get her out of my sight!" I think it was Crane who said it, but I wasn't sure. "You! I need to talk to you." Why was this happening?

I feel hands grab me, but this time it's not Two-Face. The feeling of them touching me immediately sends my senses into overdrive. It burns. It burns so badly! Every step this person takes, pulling me along beside them, makes my flesh reel and peel even further. My insides are being incinerated with every breath I take. I can smell the bodies of the guards burning. No, not the guards. Me.

I'm thrown into a dark place, left alone to curl into myself. This was my only hope for making the pain subside, but it only serves to make it worse. I sob into my curled up body. I sob for myself, but more than that I sob for Roman and everyone else I've screwed over tonight. I can't think straight; it hurts so badly. There is screaming in my head, but it might be coming from my mouth. I black out.

Xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

I've only gotten drunk once in my entire life, and it wasn't a fun experience. I remember waking up the next day feeling exactly how I did right now. I had a splitting headache and genuinely felt like shit. However, unlike having a hangover, I am covered in cold sweat and . . . scratches? I'm not even sure where I am, but judging by the small space, I'd say a closet. I see a small shaft of light filtering in from the side of the wall; someone didn't close the door all the way. It's in this small beam of light that I can see the scratches lining my arms. Some are actually bleeding. Did I do this? Why?

And just like that, I remember why I'm in a closet. I can remember the searing pain that engulfed my body as I was thrown into this dank little space. What had caused that? It had to have been whatever that Crane guy had sprayed in my face. You better find a way out of here quickly, Violet. You're going to die.

My mind goes into hyper drive thinking of possible escape routes, not that any are particularly feasible considering what's on the other side of this door. My train of thought breaks when I hear people talking on the other side; the crack amplifies their voices so I can hear what they're saying if I strain my ears enough, "Was that honestly necessary?" That was Two-Face talking. I unconsciously lean forward towards the crack.

"Who's in charge here, Dent?" There was silence. I guess I was right; Crane is the one in charge, which meant he had to be one of Gotham's infamous villains, but which one? "I am." More silence.

"I don't see what the purpose of that was. It didn't accomplish anything." Two-Face, whom I'm assuming is Dent, muttered. Sometimes I forget these people once existed outside of their alter egos.

I heard someone sigh. I think it was Crane. "I could just kill her. She's going to be useless anyway." I heard the sound of clinking of glass, like he was messing with some of the equipment, "You knew she was nothing but a guinea pig when this started." A guinea pig? So, all of this . . . all of this had been a lie? You really aren't special, sweetie.

I fell back from the doorway, scooting back so I was up against the wall. My mind was racing for sure now. Two-Face knew I had been a guinea pig in whatever fucked up experiment this was. Who else knew then? Certainly not Roman? After all, him getting killed obviously wasn't part of the plan. No, he hadn't known. He wouldn't do that to me. I wasn't sure about Eddie. He was conspicuously absent from our escape route. Ivy. Yeah. Ivy obviously knew about this considering she was actually here. Had everyone known about this but me? Is that why everyone was treating me like I was special? It had to have been.

I sat staring at the door in front of me, thinking about how worthless my entire life was when it swung open. For a moment I couldn't tell who was standing there since their face was shadowed, but I soon realized it was Two-Face. He was looking down at me. He had had a pissed off look on his face when he swung the door open, but it vanished once he caught sight of me. I must've looked like a mess, sitting on the floor of a dirty closet in a dirty motel with bloody scratches lining my arms.

He bent down without saying anything and began pulling me up. I noticed right away that he was still holding that gun in his right hand. Gee, I'm surprised he doesn't have two. Before I knew what was happening, he was guiding me back through the lab and out through the door we came in from. I kept my eyes glued to my feet as I walked among the thugs and Crane. They're all laughing at you now.

We walked back out into the deserted motel parking lot, but instead of going to a car, we turned and walked towards a rusty old staircase at the far end of the building. It shakes as we walk up it, heading towards the upper floor of the motel. I lose count of how many doors he leads me past. I glance in the windows of some of the rooms and see thugs lounging around watching television sets with more static than pictures on them in dark rooms. I catch a glimpse of myself in the window of one of the rooms we pass. I have to look away. I look so broken. So pathetic.

At the exact opposite end of the motel, the last door on that floor to be exact, we stop. Two-Face fishes a key out of his pocket and inserts it into the rusty keyhole. I am expecting another dirty motel room, but this one doesn't look so bad. Again, it was probably part of the plan that he would be staying in this motel room from the start. I didn't know why he was bringing me here, but a sudden surge of terror shot through my body.

He must've noticed the look on my face because he simply explained, "You'll be staying in my room."

A/N: Sorry for the long wait! We're in the midst of finals here, which is never fun. I'll be on break soon though so I'm planning on cranking out some chapters then. Thanks for everyone who's continued to favorite/review this story. As always, I really appreciate the feedback and support! :)

P.S. Can anyone guess what Violet's greatest fear was from this chapter?