Bree went to her alternate hotel and sat on the couch, taking out the folder and setting it on the table. She stood up and walked to her room, taking off her dress and pulling down her hair. She changed into a black pencil skirt, black pantyhose a white dress shirt tucked in, a black blazer and black stilettos with a silver steel heel.
She picked up the file and looked through it. She looked at Bruce's past, about his parents, what happened to them, what they tried to accomplish, and what they left him, which was basically everything they owned. Some billionaire, she scoffed, living on the remnants of his fathers' kingdom.
She also learned he had ties with the infamous Batman, but it didn't explain how. She had only heard stories of the Batman, and had seen footage of him on the news, but that was about it. She looked over the rest and then shut the folder, walking to the bathroom and pulled out the metal trashcan. She took a lighter and started it, lighting the file and throwing it in the trashcan. It burned slowly, till ash was only left. She sighs and walks out, grabbing her purse. It was time to visit an old friend.
She drove to Arkham and parked the car, walking inside. She took an elevator to the lower floor, since that was where the more… dangerous, inmates were kept. She asked for Jonathan Crane and the man asked for her I.D. She glances at the security camera then slowly takes it out, handing it to him. He barely glances at it then gave it back.
"Welcome, Ms. Revette." He says and presses a button, opening the door. She turns and puts it back in her bag. She was escorted down the hall to the very end, and the man opened the door and she walks inside, the door shutting behind her.
And there sat Jonathan, sitting in a chair infront of a table, his hands in hand cuffs. She drops her bag, it made a loud BANG. But Crane didn't look up, or flinch.
"Hello, Jonathan." She says and walks to the table, sitting across from him.
"Hello, Breanne." He replies. Bree tilts her head to the side,
"You still remember me?"
"Of course we do." He said, his voice a little bit off. Bree brushed it off, then leaned back in her chair.
"Why did you do it?" she questions, cutting to the chase.
"What made you this way?"
Jonathan didn't say anything at first, then tilted his head to the side, still looking down.
"We wanted to help people. They needed our help, they needed the medicine. We fixed them up nice." He said, his voice breaking he seemed agitated. He looks up slightly, lifting his head. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had heavy bags under his eyes.
"We can fix you too, Breanne. We can help you." He says, except it didn't sound like him, it didn't sound like him at all.
"Who's "we"?" Bree questions, leaning forward slightly.
Suddenly Crane banged his fists on the desk and stood up, leaning close to her,
"SCARECROW!" he shouts. She jumped slightly, leaning back. Not expecting it.
Then he started to laugh. Not like anything was funny, it was a psychotic laugh. He sits back down on the chair.
"You're afraid. You're afraid of us." He cackles.
"I'm not afraid of anyone." She murmurs. He shoves the desk forward slightly,
"Oh, yes you are, Breanne. You are afraid of yourself. I know your mind, I know you better than anyone. Maybe even yourself." He laughs. She had it.
She stood up and shoved the table to the side and pushed Crane back, pressing her heel against his chest so he couldn't get anywhere.
"You're a monster." She hisses. He laughs, his hand going up her leg slightly.
"Says the one who made one of herself." He says and smirks. She shoves him down and he falls backwards, off the chair, laughing away. She stood straight and fixed her jacket, turning and picking up her bag.
"I'm taking you back, Bree." He says, this one sounded more like himself.
"And this time, you're here to stay." He laughs.
She turns, walking back out and shutting the door. She had had enough for one day. Now, she needed a shopping spree.