Chapter 11
Recall
Was it wrong that he felt sickened at himself for liking human company?
What made now any different than any other time in his life? Was it the setting? The forced proximity? Had something changed? No, nothing had changed, humanity still laughed at him, they still feared and hated him, and he hated them too - he did not want their company. But little Tony...that wasn't even her name though, was it? Was it any different that he wanted her company? Part of him simply never wanted to see her again so as to stop feeling so torn and confused about the situation, part of him wanted to talk to her again. It had been so long since he had wanted to be around anyone.
It was too risky for him to let himself feel close to anyone, he knew if he kept his distance then at least he would be able to shrug off her inevitable future betrayal like it meant nothing to him. Yes, that seemed like the best thing to do.
He wouldn't go looking for her again, he told himself.
But then he stumbled across her anyway on his way to the mess hall. She was working on fixing the fencing around the arena, but she wasn't alone so he didn't bother stopping. Admittedly though he did linger outside the mess hall - despite the nervous looks he got from several passers-by - half hoping that she was going to follow after him. Only of course she hadn't.
That had been an hour ago, now he was waiting in the main entrance hall. It was nearly time to leave for the nightly collection of supplies from the supply drops, he was most regularly involved in this one as this particular drop site lay close to the edge of Two-Face's territory and the gang had been known to take the loot for themselves when the possibility arose. He also knew that Tony was often on this particular mission, normally sent well ahead the rest of them to make sure that no one was lying in wait for them. He wasn't really certain how to feel about her risky job now, the idea that he might one night stumble across her cold dead body in the street made him feel uneasy.
Nearby, leaning against the glass of his cabinet prison, Victor Zsasz sneered at him. This expression quickly faded when Croc walked over and thumped the glass. The pane of glass shook, but didn't splinter despite the distinct cracking sound that accompanied his move, it was still enough to frighten Zsasz into retreating to the back of the cabinet.
He normally did not turn up quite as early, and he had already gotten more than a few questioning uncomfortable looks, though no one dared actually question his presence. It wasn't because he was waiting for her (oh no, looking up every five seconds to see if she had arrived yet was perfectly normal), or so he tried to convince himself.
But she never showed up.
It wasn't that she was simply late either, as time passed and the others arrived it quickly became apparent that she wasn't the only one missing. Quickly it circulated that these were not the first men to go missing either, and then the Penguin himself turned up and called several of them aside for a new plan.
'I suspect it's that bloody Jervis Tetch git. The freakin' Mad Hatter,' he told them, crushing the end of a cigar beneath his shoe. 'I thought he was around, didn't think the twit was stupid enough to mess with me. The Hatter's never done this before, so I guess it's up to you lot to make sure he never does it again! Croc, the boys will need a tracker, you know what to do.'
Where was she?
Clara's head felt ridiculously heavy, it was an immense job just to look up. She appeared to be sitting at a table and opposite to her was a white rabbit. Realising this was impossible she closed her eyes again before looking again.
The white rabbit was still there, sitting as still as a statue.
She blinked trying to make sense of this, and then her eyes fell upon the black and white symbol of the rabbit's shoulder that indicated its loyalty lay with the Penguin, and she realised it was a man in a mask. This man was completely silent but she could she could hear someone cheerfully humming nearby. She slowly turned her head and looked up the long table she was sitting, and saw that neatly seated on both sides of the table alongside her were more men in masks, some belonged to the Penguin, others were clearly from Two-Faces gang judging by their clothing, while some were wearing no allegiance badges at all.
And all of them, except one, were wearing the same eerie white masks, and sat in the same stony silence.
The lone individual who hadn't yet been masked she recognised as being one of the group that had chased her, his upper half of his body was slumped over the table as if he had had too much to drink, but he was moving, struggling weakly against the bonds that tied him to the chair. He wasn't the one humming though, crouched upon the table was a short slim figure in an oversized top hat, in his hands was one of the rabbit masks.
The bound man didn't stop struggling until the mask was over his face, and then he stopped moving at all. And Clara couldn't help but begin to wonder if perhaps everyone at the table was dead for how unnaturally still they remained. Did the masks kill them?
White rabbits, top hats? Wait a second, this all sounded very familiar. Alice in Wonderland...it was the Mad Hatter. That psychopath who kidnapped and eventually killed his victims!
Fear getting the better of her, Clara tried to stand up, not realising that like the others who had been chasing her, she was also tied down. The jolting motion of her movement rocked the chair, and its legs clattered loudly against the hard ground.
The Hatter stopped humming.
She didn't dare look to see if he had heard, but she didn't need to, a few moments later he stood on the table directly in front of her, somehow avoiding knocking over any of the delicate porcelain mugs and teapots upon its surface.
'This little rabbit didn't drink enough tea. Oh, forgive my poor manners, dear me,' he said crouching down so that he could peer more closely at her, he then scowled and deftly pulled off her beanie. 'Oh now I don't like that, it is poor manners to not take off your hat.'
Fully ignoring the irony of this statement, he brought forth another mask and began to bring it closer to her face.
Clara wanted to struggle, but though she found she had some motor control, it wasn't much. She leant back as far as she could, but she knew it wasn't enough, her eyes darted everywhere in search of escape, struggling with the bindings around her wrists.
'My, my, as fidgety as a march hare aren't we?' the Hatter said, then paused and smiled at his own suggestion. 'A march hare? Ah, yes, March Hare, so glad you could make it. It would be rude of me to give you one of these, wouldn't it old friend?' he said gesturing at the white mask he held. 'I suppose I should get you something more fitting, March Hare, it would be only fair.'
'I am not a rabbit,' she said, almost drunkenly, she found that her words came unprompted, she was not in control of them.
'No, indeed not, my old friend.'
'I am Clara,' she said abruptly, and struggled anew, her head spinning. 'I shouldn't be here.'
'Clara...?' The Hatter sat back on his folded legs, wild mind a whir, then he smiled widely, eyes dancing with happiness. 'Alice? Alice is that really you?'
Unwelcome fingers reached towards her face. Though her processing was slow, Clara's mind danced between multiple disconnected subjects at once, and she realised she was probably having a panic attack.
The odds were not adding up, a thousand images danced in her mind's eye; both from memory of reality and fiction she had read. And in her desperation to process them, one very strong image became melded with that of the current situation, and before she could even think about it, Clara was laughing.
Sweet innocent Alice, lost in a strange world, on a journey without a goal; oh how she wished she could be that character.
'I'm not Alice!' she laughed at the Hatter, and in her mind's eye she saw the night when she had been at the asylum, waiting for Dereck to turn up so she could drive home. He had been late, and was unapologetic, and she had been so...nasty to him...
'Clara, you were supposed to be waiting outside in the carpark!'
'I had no idea how long you would be, why would I want to wait outside in the cold?' she grumbled, frowning at him through bleary eyes; it was already past midnight, she didn't want to be here right now anymore than he did.
'It's the middle of summer-' Dereck stopped mid-rant and looked around uneasily at their surroundings, his face tinged red as he realised he had an audience, there were other people in the staff room. 'Good evening, Dr. Stone,' he addressed one of the senior doctors, who sat filing paperwork in one corner of the room, discretely trying to appear uninterested in the situation.
Dereck turned his attention back to her.
'Sorry, I've been up since 5AM this morning. Look, forget I said anything. Let's just get out of here. Where's that other intern Theo?'
'He went to go find some coffee.'
'What? But there's a coffee machine right here,' Dereck replied, jabbing one hand in the direction of said machine. Clara raised one eyebrow, the machine appeared to be smoking at the wall.
'It's broken,' said one of the staff in passing, almost mournfully.
'Theo said that he was going to fall asleep if he had to wait any longer. He only left a few minutes ago, he should be back soon,' Clara added indifferently.
Dereck, looked to Clara, his expression indicating that he might have a break down if things got any more ridiculous. 'Just text Theo and tell him to get back here immediately, Clara, I've got a client at a hearing tomorrow morning, I'll be lucky if I get four hours sleep tonight!'
'Hey, I don't want to stay here any later either. If your car hadn't broken down I would have gone home hours ago,' she replied, taking out her phone to call Theo. 'As a student intern, I'm not supposed to be here past dark, it's not safe or something.'
Dereck didn't reply, he simply sat down at one of the tables and placed his face in one hand.
Clara turned away from him and lifted her phone to her ear, listening to it as it rung. Her eyes drifted back to the damaged coffee machine. The air above the coffee machine was shimmering, like a road on a hot summer's day, it didn't look quite like smoke. Clara scowled as the ringing stopped and switched to voice mail, she hung up and wondered what on earth her classmate was doing that was taking so long.
'Is that thing on fire?' she asked Dereck, pointing to the coffee machine.
'It's probably just steam,' he chastised her. 'Now, either Theo appears in the next five minutes or I'm paying you to leave him behind.'
'No, just listen,' she added hurriedly. 'There is sound, like a sort of hissing.'
One of the doctors beside the machine had noticed the odd shimmering too and had decided to take matters into his own hands, and was now in the process of unplugging the machine from the wall.
'Hey, what are you doing?' complained another.
'Something's wrong with the ventilation system,' complained the other, now crouched upon the ground. 'I can hear the hissing of gas, and this vent cover isn't fixed to the wall.'
'We'll report it to management later, they'll probably fix it in a decade or two,' joked the one of the doctors.
'I think there is something in there, like a canister. Hold on a moment,' the doctor reached into the airvent, but then abruptly shuddered and withdrew his hand, stumbling back so fast from the vent that he fell over backwards.
'What is wrong?' asked the other, the attention of the rest of the room now drawn to the scene. The doctor who had attempted to clear the vent was now swiping frantically at his arms as if trying to beat off dirt except there didn't appear to be anything on his arms.
'Maggots! There are maggots everywhere!' yelled the doctor on the floor.
'Calm down, Carl, there aren't any maggots here-' abruptly the other stopped midsentence and was now looking down with horror at his own bare hands. 'My skin, my skin!' he shouted before stumbling backwards and tripping over a chair, all the while yelling.
'What's wrong with him?' someone yelled, the other doctors quickly crowded around the thrashing men, but it was only when Dr. Stone shoved the others out of the way and got a good look at them that panic really broke out. One of the fear stricken men upon the floor tried to lunge at Dr. Stone but missed and fell.
Dr. Stone took one look at the men, squinting through his rimmed glasses, and staggered back.
'He's been gassed. We're all being gassed! Everyone, get out of the room and lock the doors behind you, we have to isolate this area as quickly as possible!' he commanded.
Clara only distantly heard these words though, her main concern was on how the staff room suddenly seems twenty times as big and how the roof seemed to have opened up above her so that cold howling wind filled the room and battered at her eyes and ears. Beside her she saw Dr. Stone as a crumpled creature, covered in loose skin and rocking on his heels, she staggered away from him as she tried to understand what was going on.
Suddenly something big and heavy with hands of iron gripped her arm and yanked her forwards. Clara did not recognise what this thing was, its face was warped and twisted with long sharp teeth. Eyeless, it let out a pitiful gurgle that horrified her to no end. She fought back, twisting and tugging until she managed to free herself from its grasp.
But from where it had gripped her, her skin itched and when she touched it peeled away. Her fingernails came away in her hand.
She felt as if she was going to be sick, too scared and confused to scream, she grit her teeth but felt them crumbling in her mouth like chalk.
Her vision was strained, every colour too bright yet solid shapes were undefinable and warped before her eyes, and all she wanted to do was run. The office was decaying around her, the metal rusting brown and the glass going opaque, she could hear screaming and yelling nearby, and when she looked up all around her were angry faces. Furious faces with bared teeth and narrowed eyes, they reached to grab at her, to tear her withering skin from her decaying flesh. One raised a sickle, she managed to avoid the worse of the blow but it caught her across the left cheek. She screamed and yelled, and kicked.
The wraith fell and from its hand fell the sickle. Clara swiped the weapon as one of the other wraiths made to grab her. Another wraith came at her, catching one of her wrists in its crushing grip, trying to pull her down.
Terrified, she could hear nothing but the ringing and pounding of the blood in her own head, Clara brought the sickle down into the wraith's neck. But it wouldn't let go. The skin on her hands and arms shrivelled and fell away, but her determination to fight and flee, to fight to flee, did not. She swung again and again at the monster's neck until the grinning corpse by her feet stopped moving, its head lying on the other side of the room.
But still there was no relief, her fear did not fade with her foe defeated, and all the while she could feel herself falling apart, she could see the bones in her hands now, she could see her beating heart behind her ribs. And there were still enemies everywhere, who wanted to speed up the process, who wanted to pull her apart and leave her scattered across the floor.
Another lunged at her, she swiped at them but too fast, the sickle went flying and disappeared somewhere into the blurry room, only it was no longer a room but a mix of bright colours, orange, grey and red, she could barely make out shapes, but they were outside, she was sure of that.
She ran after the weapon, her only defense, picking it up just as another grinning corpse lunged at her, she escaped their grip but was hit full on by their charge and thrown across the room. When she staggered to her feet she tried to take a step back only to realise there was nothing to step on. Behind her was a cliff face, there was nothing below but the blackness of an endless cavern. And then she was falling, hitting rocks on her way down, she felt something crack in one arm. Nothing but blackness was above her and she was still falling. But like her vision, her thoughts then blurred beyond use and she thought no more.
...
It was not something she immediately remembered when she later woke up two days after the event in a hospital bed, but she had awoken again in transition.
At the time fear had still ran rampant through her veins. She lay at the bottom of a staircase, upon a hard metal surface, one of the metal walkways in the asylum. Her left arm in agony and one side of her face stinging like crazy.
The sickle - only sometimes it looked like a fire-axe to her warping vision - was still in her hand. The world occasionally morphing from one form to another. There were people all around her now, doctors, medics, security personnel; two were trying to help her up.
But Clara had never been more terrified in her life. She snarled and screamed at the first one who tried to get her to stand. His face morphing from that of a leech to a pig and then back again, startled by this newest hallucination she struck out with her weapon without thinking, and caught him across the arm.
They had then pinned her, forcefully removing her weapon from her shaking hands so that she couldn't hurt anyone else. But as they set about sedating her, Clara remembered where she was and knew Dereck had to be nearby. She looked up the staircase to where she knew the staff room was, and there at the top of the stairs lay Dereck, half sprawled, legs out of sight but visible from the chest up, and he was-
'Now, let's not play games Alice,' said the Mad Hatter. 'I've got a lovely blue dress for you somewhere around here, no need for malice.'
'I'm not Alice!' Clara laughed again, and she remembered the night at the asylum ten times more as she spoke her mind without control. 'I'm the queen! The queen of Hearts, the red queen! Off with his head! Yes, right off with his head! He had no head, it was off because of me!'
Part of her mind was screaming, but Clara was too delirious with fear and confusion to care. All she could think of was all the bad memories that she had tried to block out. Dereck was dead...in her own terror and delusion she had killed him. He had been dead for more than a year now, but like some Frankenstein experiment she had forced him to continue living within her own mind, denying anything had happened. He lived on in a story, while she did not. It was like she had been sleeping all this time, and she had only just woken up, the horror brought back afresh.
'The q-queen?!' stuttered the Hatter, and went a funny green colour, for a moment it looked as if he was going to be sick. 'Your majesty?...' he trailed off again.
Clara fixed him with an empty stare, for her mind was elsewhere, but like a puppet she animated her memories of the story and scowled.
'Of course it's me, you imbecile!' she yelled. 'How do you not recognise your own sovereign? Don't grovel now, you are late enough as it is. You are a suspect in the case of the stolen jam tarts, but we need a court, where are the others?'
'I didn't steal them, I swear!' he suddenly cried out, so loudly and unexpectedly that Clara would have jumped out of her seat if she had not been tied down and dosed with who knows what. 'Why would you follow me? I haven't done anything wrong!'
'I'm not following you. As a queen, I follow no one. I have my loyal subjects to follow you for me,' Clara stated, raising her nose into the air.
The Hatter immediately glanced suspiciously at the gathered group of the men in masks, though he said nothing, Clara knew what he was thinking and decided to play on his paranoia. This was all obviously a delusion of his, a fantasy, these people were only real characters as he perceived them to be.
'And if I deem you acts suspicious, I would think very much that I would send out my subjects to check on you,' she said. 'I haven't played croquet in a while now, the flamingos all flew away, you see? I used to play croquet with Alice, who I also haven't seen in some time. You wouldn't be hiding her, would you?'
'Who's Alice? Hah, I've never heard of her,' replied the Hatter, trying to pick up a mug of tea but ended up just spilling it down his front. He fidgeted and tried to clean himself with a piece of cloth. 'Oh dear, right on my best suit, Alice won't be pleased.'
'Alice?' she asked.
'Where?!' he yelled shrilly, looking around the room.
'Where indeed?' but Clara had chosen the wrong words this time, for the Hatter's eyes now fell on her with suspicion.
'You have her, don't you?!' he asked, shaking so violently that his hat fell off, he grabbed it quickly before it hit the floor - behind him the men in masks jolted violently before freezing back into place. 'Give her back!'
'How dare you! Off with your head!' she shouted back, not quite realising the danger of the game she was playing.
'But the executioner isn't here,' replied the Hatter in a sing-song voice. 'And if I get rid of you, Alice and me will be free forever! No more running and hiding from your forces, it will be teatime all the time!'
But just then there was a great crash, and the sounds of several voices, the Hatter looked up, nervous. Clara had no idea what was making the noise, but once more seized the opportunity.
'But my subjects are already here,' she said to him savagely. 'And they will see you to death!'
'Oh no, my tea party, it's ruined! Run my rabbits! Run!' he shouted to the seated masked men. 'Find Wonderland and escapes the queen's tyranny! Escape through the door within a door within a door! Out and up! Out and away!'
The Hatter was off, followed closely by the men he had already masked. Three of Penguin's men who he had masked but not untied, struggled futily in their chairs to do the same, each in turn knocked their own chairs over.
Just then the intruders broke down the door, or rather Killer Croc came bursting into the room, the door crumbling like cardboard as he barrelled through it. She felt she could almost cry in relief.
He looked around wildly, arms raised to fight, but then his gaze fell upon her, tied up at the table, and he hurried over, the wooden floor creaking as he stepped upon it. From the angle she was at, he seemed to take up the whole room and for a moment she was terrified he was going to carelessly crush her by accident. She didn't know what he was up to, so naturally she was scared.
Clara suddenly found herself leaving the ground, Croc having picked the chair she was strapped to up into the air. For a moment saw the pale scales of his underbelly then there was a series of sharp cracks behind her, involuntarily she yelped thinking that the sound was her bones breaking. But then she was dropped on top of the table and Killer Croc was hurriedly leaving the room, and she realised that the chair she was sitting on was what had been broken. The rope not having anything to be wrapped around any longer, came loose and she pulled her hands free.
Just then the rest of the Penguin's gang poured into the building, some pointed their weapons at her, but they lowered them once they realised who she was and paid her no further attention, looking around instead for the Hatter or anything else they might shoot.
Immediately she tossed aside the character of the queen of hearts, and she switched to Tony.
''Bout time you got here, the teas all cold, what kept you?' she snarked at them as they dispersed around the room, weapons at the ready.
'Watch your lip, street-rat,' said one, going over to pull off the masks of the still struggling prisoners. Clara fixed her gaze on his back, feverishly wishing she could kick him from where she was, her nerves weren't really any better and feeling mildly insane wasn't helping.
'This floor is clear!' shouted back one of those that had poked his head into the back room. 'Moving to the second floor now.'
'What time is teatime?' she found herself asking to without meaning to. 'Is it when the tea is on the table or is it just a time of day?'
'What the hell are you talking about?' shouted the man nearest to her.
'Why, this!' she promptly kicked the nearest porcelain teapot over, it hit the floor and smashed into a thousand pieces, Clara laughed hysterically.
It wasn't easy for many of them to hear her over the shouting and thundering of feet as they searched the building, but those nearest to her looked in her direction uncomfortably, almost scared, and this thought made Clara laugh all the louder.
'Your face is very shiny,' she commented, grinning as the nearest one tried who tried to frighten her into shutting up by snarling at her - she felt no fear, just a giddy delirium, and this didn't surprise her because she couldn't feel surprise either.
Needless to say, they didn't share her sense of humour. The guy nearest to her promptly leant forwards and shoved her off the table so that she fell to the ground below, still giggling. She was ignored, nearly trampled on twice as people passed, and eventually she crawled underneath the table, out of the way and out of sight.
Her delusional hysteria was slowly fading though, her high on adrenaline could only last so long, and quickly her laughing became quieter, and soon she stopped laughing altogether. Utter despair filled her.
No one even noticed her absence, she lay forgotten on the stone cold floor.
When it quickly became clear that the Hatter and his henchmen were long gone, attention immediately turned to ransacking the building for anything of value. Croc's attention returned to Tony, he was surprised he hadn't seen her, half convinced that she would have followed after him once she was freed.
He himself searched through the building for a little while, but there was really nothing worth taking, there was a one room full of chemicals, tools and blueprints which he had no use for, the rest of the place was just old books, broken clocks and some raggedy moth eaten clothing that looked like museum pieces that had been left out to rot. There was kitchen area, though this had been practically emptied by the time he had gotten there. Tony should have been in the thick of it, scavenging was her game, but she was no where in sight.
He couldn't let himself appear too concerned, he knew any weakness shown was something the others would jump on without hesitation. He wasn't going to ask any of them if they had seen her, so he would have to find her himself. So he waited, watching from a distance. What had happened to her? Had the others hurt her while he was elsewhere? She had appeared fine, albeit scared, when he had broken her free of the chair, but he hadn't stuck around long enough to see if she was alright - he had been too worried about the others coming up behind him - he had thought she would stick close to him after the incident.
Perhaps she was scared of taking anything in front of the others in case they took it from her, or maybe she was just being very stealthy and somehow avoiding everyone's (even his) attention - very unlikely. The most likely scenario was that as soon as she gotten free she had left, perhaps deciding that it wasn't worth the risk of sticking around, and certainly not for one moment regarding him.
After about half an hour, and every cupboard and draw in the building had been turned out and emptied, it was time to leave, he finally returned to the room with the long table where Tony had been previously.
But she wasn't there either.
Those that had been victims of the Hatter were still not completely over their sedation, now that they were leaving these people were being helped to slowly stumble their way back.
It quickly became clear that Tony had definitely left, she was simply no where in sight and her scent was already weakening, she hadn't been in this room for at least a quarter of an hour or longer. He followed the others out into the streets as they set about getting back, shuddering as the cold of winter hit him, the icy wind whistling down through the streets. He could smell that she had already gone this way, but then inexplicably, only a little further on, she had veered off from the direction the rest of them were heading.
Silently he changed paths as well, following after her, no one commenting on him leaving but they all watched him as he left.
Had she ran off deliberately? Would he need to catch her and bring her back or should he just let her go? He didn't owe her anything and she wasn't really tied to him in any way either - the deal they had was transient, and only would last as long as it benefited them both, she had held up her end of the deal while he had done the same, there was no reason why now she couldn't simply cut it off there and leave.
He snarled in frustration and continued his search for her. If she was going to dare to make him feel concerned then she owed it to him that she stuck around. Out here she would die anyway, he remembered how skeletal she had appeared the first time he had seen her. At the time he had almost thought she wasn't worth the effort, but beggars couldn't be choosers, and back then he wasn't finding food very easily either. If she stayed out here she would starve, or die from the cold anyway.
If it had been an attempt to escape, it had been a poor one.
He found her only a few minutes later, she hadn't gone far. Hiding behind a dumpster, she was curled into a ball against the wall. She looked almost dead, pale and staring blankly at the wall, teeth chattering from the cold. She didn't even notice him until he stood directly in front of her.
She raised her blank gaze to him when she realised she was no longer alone, then wordlessly she got to her feet.
'What are you up to?' he questioned her suspiciously. It didn't look like she was running away, if anything it just looked like she had given up.
'I lost my way,' she replied emotionlessly, the blank expression on her face unchanging. She didn't say anything further, she just stood there.
He gestured for her to follow and began to lead the way back. This time she did follow him, but with how quiet she was he almost would not have noticed if she hadn't.
...
'Parasites, the lot of them,' the Penguin was saying, after taking a draught of wine. 'You have to pull them up by the roots if you want to get rid off them permanently, by which I mean wring their necks right proper! The Hatter is just going to settle elsewhere now, but at least he ain't our problem no more. Who knows, hehe, maybe he'll decide the Joker's bimbo would make a nice Alice, hahaha!'
The Penguin was pleased, very pleased, and perhaps slightly drunk. It was easy enough to slip away from the front of the throng of people without him noticing, even when the one leaving was someone who towered over the lot of them by several feet. Croc had seen Tony trying to slip away and followed after her, he wasn't the only one though.
An older man with greying hair got to her first, and promptly began shouting at her. Tony didn't appear particularly bothered, but then again at this moment she seemed indifferent to everything. But then the man grabbed the front of Tony's jacket in one fist and appeared as if he might strike her.
Croc growled and stepped forward, taking hold of Tony, lifting her easily and yanking her from the man's grip. Then he turned and began to head away from the main room with her held under one arm, it can't have been very comfortable for her but to carry her any other way would have looked suspicious and he didn't want to risk that. As far as the world was concerned, Tony was just another lost soul who had the misfortune of having been around Killer Croc more than once - as far as the world was concerned, Tony and Croc were not working together.
Then to his surprise the old man began to follow after them.
'Oi, what are you doing?!' he shouted, chasing after them. 'You let go of my son now! He's part of this gang as much as the rest of us! You can't just go around eating us!'
Croc whirled around to glare at him, he didn't answer in words, he simply bunched up the muscles in his shoulders and growled, but then he took in what the man had said. 'Your son?' Croc looked at Clara dubiously.
She didn't answer, but he now remembered her saying something along the lines of someone believing they were related to her.
'Follow me, and I'll tear you to shreds!' he growled at the old man, who actually seemed to be sizing him up for a fight. Normally he would have taken such an action as an insult and torn the man to shreds anyway, but Tony was shivering in his grip and he wasn't about to drop her just to kill an old man.
Even with this threat in the air though, the man barely reacted - backing up a few steps but hardly fleeing for his life, glaring intently. He was missing one eye, and Croc suspected he couldn't see very well out the remaining one either. Either that or the man was completely insane. Croc didn't care, there was only so much he would put up with, if the man did try to follow them again he doubted he would be able to control himself.
He stormed away, Tony still under one arm, but she was beginning to move now, grabbing at his a wristguard and struggling.
'Please, I can't breathe!' she choked, and it was only then that he realised he was inadvertently crushing her. Seeing no one else around, he readjusted his grip, throwing her up into the air before catching her in the crook of his arm so that she rested against his chest, then continued on his way. He should have really just dropped and left her, but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
There was no way he was going to simply leave her lying around after finding her in the state he had, she'd be easy prey for anyone.
So he took her to the only place he knew was safe, the storage room that they had given him to sleep in.
He placed her on top of pile of sand bags so that she could sit. But she didn't sit, she fell back bonelessly against the material as if she had no life in her. It was only now, that when they were alone, that she spoke again. As he moved to stand up after placing her down, one delicate little hand grabbed at his wristguard again and held on tight.
'Don't go,' she begged in a broken voice, her eyes still had a distant look to them, but she was definitely looking at him. 'You're alive, you're alive, don't fade.'
'Yeah, I am alive,' he confirmed gruffly, but she didn't respond any further, just looking up at him with a wavering gaze as if not quite believing he was there. He realised with a pang that she trusted him, and she wanted him around, he argued weakly with himself that he wasn't going to let himself fall for it but found he didn't have the strength. Whether it was selfish trust or not, he would take it.
He settled beside her make-shift bed, getting to his knees that they were almost level.
'What's the matter?' he asked awkwardly, he didn't want to frighten her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and turned away from him. 'Stupid mind, stupid memories, stupid Hatter, stupid me! But my fault, all my fault...' she muttered, and then turned her pale face back to him. 'Please don't leave, if I'm alone, everything will come back, in my head anyway, stupid, silly me.'
Tony was definitely more lucid now but she didn't seem quite right in the head. He didn't know what was she babbling about, but he could tell she was scared, but it was not of him.
'The Hatter is gone,' he told her.
'I don't care less about the stupid Hatter,' she replied quietly. 'I-...it doesn't matter. I'm being weak, and that's stupid. But I feel so close to just giving up. Damn this place!'
She sat up, and took a deep breath.
'I'm sorry...cards, want to play crazy fates again?' she frantically scrambled to draw out the cards, she gave him a sad little smile.
'It's crazy eights,' he told her. 'Sure.'
Perhaps it wasn't really the best solution to the situation, but Croc knew little in the way of comforting. Tony played terribly once more, but as time passed she slowly began to calm again, and pretty soon she was beginning to fall asleep.
'I want to stay here, can I stay here?' she asked sleepily, sometime later. 'I won't be any trouble, when I wake up tomorrow, I'll make sure not to wake you.'
Yep, she was definitely crazy, but he found he really didn't care. He liked that she didn't seem to mind that he was supposed to be crazy too.
'You can stay,' he told her. 'I don't mind.'
'That's good,' she said quietly, and closed her eyes. 'That's good...'
He watched the gentle risings of her sides until her breathing slowed and she fell asleep, before he settled down himself, leaning back against the pile of sandbags.
Perhaps it was strange that he thought this was the weirdest thing to have ever happened to him, for someone to be so tranquil around him after so many years, but then again his whole life had hardly been normal.
A/N: I'm going away soon for two or three weeks to my grandparents' who have no access to the internet because they live right in the middle of nowhere :( so I won't be posting for a while - though I'm going to try to post one more chapter before I go there.
The flashback is actually a large chunk of the original prologue I wrote for this story, but decided to scrap the prologue because it made more sense for the story to start within Arkham City rather than meander around for the first chapter before it. I'm a little worried it was too gruesome for a T rating, but I wanted to portray it like a true nightmare, I don't really want to change the rating though, I've been so careful to keep swearing mild.
Also, longest chapter ever 0_0
Response to reviews:
Sunnycroc: Thank you for you lovely review:D, on the matter of card games the only card game I really know is snap, but I know that if they played that well...snap would go Clara's fingers DX (ouch! erm, if you know how snap is played, from my experience the game often turns violent lol)
Blitzwing'ssister: *facepalms in embarrassment* the name thing...oops, how did I miss that? Erm, you have a very good point. I'm not certain how I'm going to correct this (I guess I'll have to cut out that line), thanks for bringing it to my attention, I'll try to do something about it soon. For now let's just say Clara didn't realise coz lol? Thank you for your review!
Serendipity's tears & TurtleKidTheWoolGatherer: Thank you :D
Quick summary of this chapter:
Clara awakens, still tranquilized from before. She becomes aware she had been kidnapped by the Mad Hatter very quickly, and tries to escape. He notices her struggling though and begins to talk to her, calling her March Hare, and when she inadvertently says her name is Clara, the Hatter decides that she is Alice.
Clara flashes back to the terrible night that resulted in her incarceration at Mercy: She was waiting to give her brother a lift back from Arkham Asylum on the night of the breakout, she was gassed while in the medical facility. While under fear gas' influence, she inadvertently killed her brother before falling down a flight of stairs and knocking herself out.
Back in the present, Clara begins to laugh at the absurdity of being innocent Alice, and declares that she is in fact the Queen of Hearts ("Off with his head!"). This bluff fools the Hatter, however this turns for the worst when he decides that in order to defend Alice he must get rid of Clara. However before he can do this, the Penguin's men arrive.
Killer Croc bursts through the door, scaring off all the enemies present. He frees Clara and then goes in search of the Hatter and his henchmen. Clara has a mental breakdown as a result of the flashback and begins acting weirdly until she eventually grows comatose and crawls under the table. Clara doesn't want to come out from under the table, but is eventually persuaded after the others begin knocking the table about and she crawls out. Still traumatised from the event she tries to set back on her own, only she doesn't know where she is and quickly gets lost. She sits down beside a bin and tries to calm herself down. Eventually Croc finds her, having realised she's set off in the wrong direction. She wordlessly gets to her feet and follows after him, back to the museum. One-eye is there and gets into a bit of an argument with Clara, but Croc steps in and takes her away. Clara begins to speak again by this point, obviously very distressed. She calms down after a few games of crazy eights though, and Croc agrees to let her sleep in the storage room for the night.