When Bree came around she was stripped of her belt and was tied to a chair inside the large room. She was lucky her mask was still on, she had no idea why they left it, but she didn't care.
Apparently the sedative had worn off, and her ears were no longer ringing, and her eyes were clear. She looks around the room. There were no soldiers, only her, a few men, and Crane.
Crane wore some sort of a mask basically like a bag with holes in it. It reminded her of a scarecrow. Oh, so no wonder he calls himself the Scarecrow. She thought.
"Glad you came around." He says, standing infront of her. She didn't say a word, just looking at him.
"Stupid plan, coming in here by yourself. You even got yourself trapped. I thought you were better at this." He laughs.
"So sorry your plan didn't work out so well." He says, his tone sarcastically sorry. He walks over and kneels infront of her.
"Oh, trust me, that was all a part of the plan." She says and kicks his feet from under himself and stands, swinging the chair around and it hit his face. He howls in pain and rolls to the side. A guy came at her and she looks back then rams the chair right into him, hitting him in the gut and chest. Another come up from her side and knocks him down, doing a back flip and landing on him. The chair crushing him instantly. She stands and runs, jumping and grabbing onto the railing and hoisting herself up. She turned around but was met with another whiff of white smoke. She coughs, stumbling to the side. These were much different effects from the other. She heard warped voices and noises. Her vision was twisted and just completely off. She turns and saw Crane without his mask. Except, his eyes were deep black holes and blood poured from them. When he grinned, it was like someone cut his mouth to form a smile. She grips the railing, trying to pull herself up so she could fight.
Crane reached for her mask but she swatted it away and stood, swaying from side to side. He kicked her in the gut and she fell, landing on her hands and knees, gasping.
"Let's see who the woman behind the mask is." He says, his voice deep, contorted to Bree. He grabs the mask and yanks it off, grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing her to look up. Jonathan almost doubled over in shock and fear.
Bree looked up at him, seeing only the image she was forced to look at. She jerks away, finding the will to fight and stood. The vision flashed from different images. He was the bloody beast she saw first, then her dying mother, then her murderous father, then, something she has always feared more than anything in her entire life.
Herself.
Crane had no chance of escaping. He tried shoving his men in front of her but she plowed through them by shooting them, breaking their necks, or worse. Her breathing was ragged and her eyes were wide with fear and something else. Something he couldn't recognize or even comprehend. And it frightened him more than anything. Even the Batman, or his other self.
She didn't know why, but Bree was sure to get to herself, or in this case, Jonathan, to get rid of them. The vision of herself was grinning wickedly, blood on her hands and had long, overgrow, and black chipped nails. Bree only knew one thing; destroy her.
Bree was always taught to face her fears, no matter what it was. And this was no exception.
Crane was horrified; he didn't know what to do, or where to go. She was coming for him, and he knew it. He ran down the stairs and tried making his way to the door but Bree jumped in front of him from above.
She grabbed his throat and lifted him up, flipping him onto a table. She just about crushed his windpipe until she grabbed his wrist, twisting it to where she might've yanked it clean off. He jabbed her in the ribs with his watch and she let go just enough for him to flip off the table onto the ground. His wrist hurt like hell.
She pushed the table aside, and then yanked Crane up. She punched him in the gut, then the face. Bree was a machine; she just kept on throwing punches, over and over and over. He tried to feebly fight her off but he was no match for her. She pinned him down, one knee pressing on his shoulder, her other leg pinning his wrist down with her heel. Crane didn't say anything, he didn't do anything. He knew this was the end.
Bree's visions lessened a bit, but she knew she had to take it out. She knew what she would do, crush it's windpipe with her hand then break its neck. She raised her hand to do the deed until someone grabbed her from behind and yanked her up.
She just about turned and beat them too, until someone injected a needle into her neck and pressed down. She screamed in surprise, for she felt no pain. She collapsed back but something black caught her. She was tired, she didn't know what to do or think. Everything was getting foggy, and messy, and blurry.
So finally, she gave in, and let the darkness consume her.