AN: Directly related to 'Caged Bird'. Still feeling evil. YOU CAN'T STOP ME. (Also, I'd be a great assassin, I managed to get literally like three feet away from a rabbit and stay there for five minutes before it saw me and booked it.)
Guest-Is that so? How unfortunate...for you. Hello, new best friend. Really? You know, I rather think I owe you for that concussion...will your heart in a jar be acceptable?
Christineoftheopera-It's his own fault. He shouldn't provide me with such fodder. He really shouldn't...but oh, well.
Razor looks at the phone in his hand and shudders. Why. Why him. Why did he have to come out, why does he have to answer the phone, why is he in Gotham.
The phone continues to ring, the cheap screen lighting up with the name Jonathan in stark black letters.
Someone kill him now.
"Uh, boss?"
"Outside, that is rude." Richardson hisses and he's quick to step away, stammering apologies.
On the other end, Crane is not amused.
"What is going on?"
"Not you, boss-"
Crane cuts him off, voice cold.
"If you value your sanity, you'll go back over there and put her on the damn phone now."
He does value his sanity, but Crane's far away and Richardson's right here. She might…do something to him.
"She's talkin' to Nightwing, boss, I swear I don't wanna-"
"Grammar." he hisses, and Razor almost wishes he worked for the Joker again. Almost. "And I don't care if she's talking to Batman, walk over there-"
"Fuck off!"
"What's going on."
Aw, hell. It's bad enough that Crane's pissy, now he's worried. Why is this his life.
"Nothing, boss, everything's under control."
"Then go over there." Uh. But. NO. "I don't hear your footsteps, Mister Razor."
Please. Please let Batman come. Yeah, he sees the irony there, but he doesn't even care. If Batman comes, he'll go to Blackgate and be nice and safe (ish) and on his LIFE he'll be good from now on, get a job at Gamestop or something.
"I said, GO OVER THERE." Scarecrow's rasp is downright demonic over the phone and Razor…well…
He twitches. And accidentally hangs up.
He's fucked. God no. Please no.
The phone rings again. The standard rrrrrrriiiiiing! has never sounded so ominous. Razor will swear that he hears the Funeral March playing in the distance.
The phone is suddenly plucked from his trembling fingers.
"Idiot…hullo-Jonathan, really, you're being a little dramatic."
He debates, a bit, on staying behind and begging Batman to arrest him, but…Nightwing. He doesn't wanna stick around for the aftermath of that.
Maybe he can get pulled over for speeding.
THE END