AN: The Abromovici twins appear in Arkham City-the big guys, used to be conjoined and now are not? Them. This really does happen, by the way, in the prequel comics for Knight. (Worth it for the sheer lack of fucks given by Alfred. Dear god. GOALS.)
This one is 'fear of being alone'. Sorry it's up a bit later, had to run a virus scan-because if Loki gets a virus, y'all get NO stories AT ALL, and that's bad.
McStaken-Looking back, it may have been a mistake.
Jonathan nudges one of the twitching behemoths with the pole of his scythe. Leave it to Penguin…nosey little creature, never could leave well enough alone…as though he would ever be anyone's private chemist. And not for that price.
No matter. These two idiots have been tracking him through Gotham for the better part of two weeks. They're not hard to avoid, and anyone with half a brain knows to keep their mouths shut about his whereabouts, but…well…it's the principle of the thing.
And so he let them find him. Even set up a little scarecrow with a mock cowl on it, in case they didn't get the hint. And now?
Now he has to decide the best way to send a message to Cobblepot. This has to be handled with care. Penguin's hard to rattle-his time with the mob families has made him irritatingly immune to the simple-yet-effective 'dead henchman', and depositing a hallucinating imbecile in his lobby isn't much better.
Hm.
"What're you doing?" Kitty presses up against his spine, arms winding around his stomach. "It's been-what are those?"
"Cobblepot's." He pats her hands. "They've been sniffing around a bit too much for my liking."
She shrugs, presses her head against his back.
"Any ideas?"
"Still thinking about it." He twists around, notes in some despair that he has lost another shirt to the Kitty Richardson Foundation, and taps her head. "You shouldn't be out of bed."
"You've been gone an hour."
"You have a phone."
"S'just a cold, it's mostly gone."
And she accuses him of being the bad patient. Humph.
He picks her up, ignoring the sudden wheeze of outrage, and proceeds to cart her back towards their room.
"Put me down!"
"I don't trust you."
"Trust is important in a relationship." she snarks, and he snorts.
"I trust you not to poison me. I don't trust you to go back to bed."
"Jonathaaaaan…"
"Mister Finch, you will find two of Penguin's employees in the front room. Confine them, I'll be down to see them later."
"Uh, right, boss."
"Tell him to put me down!" Finch makes a little whimpering noise and flees the room. Kitty coughs and mutters, "I don't like him anymore."
Penguin's people-known, apparently, in hench-circles as Mister Hammer and Captain Sickle-are formerly conjoined twins. Jonathan finds this decidedly interesting indeed.
He's settled them into a pair of reinforced rooms (one of his formulas induced amazing displays of violence) while he considers what to do with them.
"Just send them back." Kitty suggests. "Oswald can worry about the other shoe dropping for a bit until you come up with something."
"Mm."
"You're the one always complaining about the amount of gore in the world." He shrugs and leans his head against her fingers until she resumes making little circles on his scalp. "And it would get them out of here."
"Perhaps." He yawns and takes his glasses off, sets them on the stack of pallets serving as a table. "I am annoyed that Cobblepot sent them in the first place. If I wanted to see him, he'd know."
"Could be worthwhile, though."
"The last one resulted in a fractured collarbone due to a Bat infestation."
"Fair."
He's pleasantly drowsy, now, and there's something to be said for that state of mind. It can be…inspirational, being half in dreamland.
"I think I need to dose them." he murmurs. Kitty's fingers move to his neck. "The temporary formula, that didn't work quite right."
"Tomorrow."
Yes. Tomorrow.
Twins, Jonathan has found in his (admittedly limited) studies, often share a phobia. Oh, not the boring surface phobias, but the real, deep-seated visions of horror…
It's fascinating, really, and he'd love to know if it's nature or nurture. One day, perhaps…but not today. Today, he has a message to send out.
He's kept these brutes sedated. He's had to. One-armed or not, they are capable of doing immense damage. He's not in the mood to suffer injuries. Certainly not at the…hands…of these imbeciles.
The sedatives are wearing off now, however, and they're making it quite clear that they don't like their rooms. They keep calling to each other, booming voices echoing down the hall. It would be irksome if it weren't giving Jonathan some ideas.
"Thought you were going to dose them up."
"I may." He drapes himself over her shoulders. "I'm debating again."
"So what happened? The, uh, separation scars look new."
"Apparently the clown cut them apart. I don't know why, and I don't care. But this wasn't voluntary, I understand." Oh, hey, tea. If he handles this just so… "They don't seem to be coping well like this."
"Hm."
It's almost unfortunate he doesn't speak Russian, but…he has henchmen for that. And Google translate, unreliable though it may be.
"We'll see how this goes." He straightens up, taking her mug with him, and starts walking away. "I think I'm going to get the tape recorder-"
"Give me back my tea."
"What tea?" Walk faster. Long legs will carry him to relative safety. "Did you leave yours in the kitchen again?"
"That is mine, you took it from me, give it back!"
"I had this when you came down here." There, ten feet away already! He'll be fine. "Really, Kitty, and you accuse me of being absent-minded…"
"Really?" Uh-oh. "Give it here, I waited twenty minutes for that damn kettle-"
He takes a sip and sidesteps into his office.
"Thank you for bringing me tea, Kitty!"
Will he regret this later? Probably. Does he care? No.
Contrary to popular belief, Jonathan is a Good Person. Truly, he is. And to prove this, he's going to reunite his guests…in every sense of the word.
If the anesthetic happens to be laced with fear toxin, well…
He is a scientist, after all.
He-or, rather, his employees-have gotten them onto a pair of gurneys and shoved them as close together as possible. This probably won't be permanent, but really, if they decide they've gotten used to being apart, well…
This is, after all, a big life step.
"Uh, boss, they're wakin' up."
"I see. They're firmly restrained, yes?"
"Uh, yeah."
Such confidence.
"You're quite sure?"
"Yeah, boss. They're good."
"Good. Now I want you to keep out of the way, but if something should go awry…you know what to do."
Got it, boss."
Oh, he dislikes them so…
"That scar tissue's awfully thick." Kitty informs him. "Getting a needle through that's going to be rough."
"You say that, but I've seen you get limbs off with less-than-ideal tools."
"We'll see…good morning, boys." She reaches up and adjusts the light. "And how are we feeling?"
They blink and squirm a bit. Their predicament doesn't seem to be registering. It will, it will, he has every confidence.
He fills a pair of syringes and grips Mister Sickle's wrist. The big gorilla tries to thrash, can't, and ends up bellowing something that likely consists of swear words. Perfectly normal. It's likely the man isn't used to not being in control. Jonathan knows the type very well.
They're always so fun to break…
The man's snorting like an angry bull by the time Jonathan removes the needle from his vein, but he starts screaming in English when his brother's still-limp hand is lifted.
"Touch him and die a painful death!"
Ah, familial loyalty. Always so fascinating…
"This is for your own good, Captain Sickle." he says softly, patting Mister Hammer's cheek in an attempt to wake him a little more. "You're going to be together again."
"What."
"Mm-hm. And then you're going to tell Penguin that if I wanted to see him…he'd know."
Hammer jerks away from his hand. Much better. The toxin should start to take hold very soon. Now, his camera is working…his employees are nearby in case of an incident…
"Whenever you're ready, Kitty."
"I think I'm going to need to cut through…you boys stay nice and still for me, all right? Wouldn't want there to be an accident."
Sickle is already starting to feel the effects. Interesting-they're both about the same weight, and the injections were administered within thirty seconds of each other…oh, he really wishes he could keep them and just observe.
"Father…please…"
Kitty reaches over for a scalpel and leans over Hammer to cut into the divot where his arm would have been.
"Yeah, I just need to butterfly it…Joker probably used a chainsaw."
To the surprise of none, one the men near the door steps out. There's the sound of retching. Well, now he knows who's the first to be…fired.
The screaming starts in earnest when the skin and muscle peel apart like a cut of steak. Sickle's pleas to the father promptly turn to desperate screams and death threats. Then they go straight back to Russian and Jonathan's left to hope he can translate everything from the tapes.
"One of you come here and pinch these together for me-stop your crying, you didn't want to be alone, I'm fixing it."
Hammer is silent. Well, well, even amongst twins, the reactions are unique…and these two, what a surprise.
Penguin, he's sure, appreciates none of this.
"No, no…do not. Do not."
English again. Unenlightening English. He turns Sickle's head away from his brother, provoking a new round of screaming and jerking. The restraints hold, however, and he digs his nails into the man's cheeks.
"Now, now, this is what you wanted, isn't it?"
He narrowly dodges a glob of yellow spittle and that's it, his patience is gone. He grabs a handful of straw left over from his Batman scarecrow, stalks back across the room, and beckons the remaining crew member over.
"Get his mouth open."
"Boss?"
"Now."
He narrowly avoids losing a finger, but the mouth is, eventually, yanked open. Quick as a flash, Jonathan stuffs the straw down Sickle's throat and steps back.
The operation is finished in relative silence after that. All things considered, anyway.
"Boss. Boss."
"What?"
Oswald breathes deeply and reminds himself that Miss Marquis has his spare e-mail passwords. Killing her could prove…problematic.
"Uh. The big ones are back. The ones you hired over from the clown?"
Finally! Where have those fools been-oh.
Oh, dear.
Damn you, Crane!
Crane-and it was Crane, the bile-covered straw in Sickle's mouth is a dead giveaway-has…he's ruined Oswald's perfectly good help. Ruined them.
The twins are only upright, Oswald's sure, through sheer force of will. Other than that, they're…well…
They've been restitched. Oh, it'll be easy enough to separate them again-the stitches are, as far as he can see, more cosmetic than permanent-but…but…
All he wanted was to see about some chemicals. That's all. And Jonathan Crane, the burlap-covered drama queen, had to overreact and look at his goons! Look at them!
One day. One of these days, he's going to behead Crane with his own scythe and spare himself the trouble.
"Call a doctor, Miss Marquis." And now he has a headache coming on. "See about getting them apart." There's no answer. "Miss Marquis."
When he looks up to see where she's got to, she's speed-walking out the door, face green. Lovely. He has to do everything himself, doesn't he.
Crane is going to be very sorry once Oswald tracks him down, and that's final.
THE END