#listen bitch line made me cryy

[lostcryptids]

todays movie was a found footage movie that was just 50 minutes and it took place fully from like a ring doorbell camera. there were only like 4 characters and one of them was a salesman that you think is going to come up later but he just kinda cuts his hand on a potato says this, leaves, comes back again and tries to sell a vacuum, and then vanishes from the movie

[calpalirwin]

According to Plan

A/N: Let’s check in on our girl Mads.

And away, and away we go!

~~~

Chapter 11

Madison

~~~

“Hey, how’d he like the gift?” Mike asked as I climbed into the passenger seat.

I didn’t say anything. I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. My breath came out in shudders.

“Hey,” Mike said once he got me to open my eyes. “What happened?”

I think we broke up. I fumbled with the locket around my neck. I don’t understand… Then, all the emotions poured out and I started sobbing.

At home, I relayed the hospital events to Mike and our parents in shuddery breaths and hiccuped sobs. I didn’t think he’d choose for me to leave, I finished. I know he’s upset, but I didn’t think he’d ever tell me to go.

“Oh, honey,” my mother mused. “He probably didn’t mean it, sweetie.”

“Yeah,” my dad agreed. “Just give him time to cool off and to cope, baby. One fight doesn’t always mean it’s the end.”

But, I meant it. I told him if he let me walk away, I wouldn’t come back.

“That’s okay, Mads. It’s okay to say things you don’t mean. It’s okay to take them back. You’re seventeen. It’s totally normal to let emotions get the better of you.”

This wouldn’t have happened if we never moved here. I got up from the couch and went to my room. I didn’t come out until spring break was over and I had to go back to school. My phone stayed silent. I don’t know what I would have done had Ashton messaged anyway, so it was probably for the best.

Monday morning, I emerged from my room at 6:40 to go on my run. I went about my normal morning routine, finding solace in doing what I had always done. I was finishing getting dressed when Mike popped his head in my room. “Hey,” he smiled. “You feeling okay?”

I shrugged. My fingers felt restless from a week of no signing.

“Nothing, huh?”

I shook my head sadly, blinking away tears.

He walked over and stared at me through my mirror, his chin resting on my head. “That’s okay. You don’t have to communicate if you don’t want. Just… well… you have to stay motivated, okay? They won’t let you get the implant if you start slipping into a depression. I know it sucks. But, September isn’t that far away. Keep your head up.”

I nodded and wiped at my eyes. I felt awful. Like my heart had been ripped out of chest, leaving nothing but a gaping hole of nothingness. But, I needed to pull myself together. Even if Ashton was too stubborn to see the good he had, I wasn’t. I still had Yale. And my surgery had been approved and was scheduled. I had to keep to the plan I had before Ashton. I worked too hard to ruin my life over a boy. Even if I really loved that boy and I’d feel better if I still had him, too.

I don’t know what I expected at school, but Ashton hunched over crutches at my locker with a giant grin on his face wasn’t on the list. “Hey,” he greeted warmly. “How was your break?”

I jerked away as he tried to reach for me. I looked up at him, my fingers itching to move, then thought better of it. I shook my head and walked to homeroom. I’d just have to manage without my locker for now.

“C’mon, Mads… talk to me,” he pleaded when he finally hobbled his way into homeroom.

I opened my bag and pulled out a book, determined to ignore him.

He waved his hand in my face until I dropped my book. “So, you’re not gonna talk to me?” he continued to badger once I was looking at his lips.

I picked up my book, shutting him out.

A note slipped over my book, landing on my desk. I glanced at it. 

Mads, I’m sorry. 

I looked over at Ashton who reached over to grab my hand. He was able to give it a quick squeeze before I was able to snatch it away.

I shook my head, suddenly feeling angry. He didn’t get to do that. He didn’t get to yell at me, tell me to leave, ignore me for a week, and then pretend like everything was normal. As much as I wanted for things to go back to the way the were; as much as I wanted to accept his apology and tell him how sorry I was myself; as much as I wanted to feel his hand on mine, I just couldn’t. Something in me was broken and I didn’t have the slightest clue on how to fix it. I took his note and crumpled it in my fist.

“Aw, what’s wrong, Irwin?” Ben Anderson sneered at us. “Trouble in freak paradise?” Ben’s hands slammed down on my desk and he grinned a nasty grin as he said the word ‘freak’ staring directly at me as he did so.

“Aw, what’s wrong, Anderson? Claire leave you again?” Calum shot back. I imagined the words sounded just as nasty as Ben’s, but Calum’s face looked as tired as both mine and Ashton’s. Almost like he was heartbroken, too.

“Cal, don’t,” Ashton told him. “He’s not worth it.”

“Yeah, Hood. Listen to the cripple with the freak girlfriend,” Ben continued to sneer.

I’m not sure what compelled me to do so, maybe the way his mouth contorted around the word ‘freak’. Maybe it was the way he called Ashton a cripple; maybe it was for all the years I had dealt with crap from people just like Ben; maybe it’s because I had been so angry lately that if I didn’t let it out I thought I’d explode; maybe this was me exploding; Whatever the reason, I clenched my hand in a fist, cocked my arm back, and socked Ben straight on the nose. “Douchebag…” I muttered.

Ashton and Calum looked from me, to Ben cradling his face, to back at me. Their eyes were wide and their mouths hung open as the teacher walked over to see what all the commotion was about. “What is going on over here?” Mrs. Hemmings demanded.

I curled and uncurled my fist a few times, becoming more aware of the pain shooting through it with each flex.

“Well?” Mrs. Hemmings demanded again, impatiently.

Ashton and Calum broke into nervous laughter. Ben started to speak rapidly, “She just hit me! The bitch just hit me!”

“Whoa!” Ashton said, “1.) She’s not a bitch. Call her that again and I’ll break your nose myself. 2.) He started it, Mrs. H. Mads was just defending herself.”

“Bullshit!” Ben spat, “she broke my nose!”

“You could use an improvement,” Calum sneered.

“That’s enough out of you three,” Mrs. Hemmings said before turning to me. “Miss Clifford? Would you care to explain.”

I quickly scribbled a note. 

He called Ashton a cripple and me a freak. I don’t like bullies.

“So you thought hitting him would be the answer?”

I shook my head and packed up my stuff, deciding to go to the office on my own accord seemed better then him ordering me.

She held up his hand to stop me. “Miss Clifford, stay in your seat, please,” Mrs. Hemmings said.

I stopped moving and sat back in my seat.

“I’m a firm believer in dealing with incidents in my classroom within the walls of my classroom,” Mrs. Hemmings said. “Mr. Anderson, I suggest that you go to the nurse and get yourself cleaned up. And I expect to see all four of you later for detention where we’ll continue this conversation. Understood?”

We all nodded.

I sighed as Mrs. Hemmings walked away and Ben went to the nurse. I had never hit anybody in my life. I had never had detention before, either. But, it was probably better than being suspended.

“Nice punch,” Ashton whispered to me, grinning.

I looked at him blankly before I picked up my book again.

Ashton sighed and put his head on his desk. He had that same defeated look in his eyes that he had in the hospital.

It made my heart hurt knowing that this time it was because I was ignoring him. But what was I going to tell him? I could forgive him for saying the things he had said out of anger. But, could I ever forgive him for letting me walk out like I meant nothing to him? Could I trust him not to take his anger and frustrations out on my every time something upset him? Could I trust that he wouldn’t let me go again? Could I trust myself that I wouldn’t run scared when he pushed me away like I was doing now? And even if I could, it didn’t change the fact that we were going on two different paths in a few more months. Even if we could move past this fight, it didn’t change the fact that I was going to Yale and he to Duke. 

I thought about what he had told me at the lake house- about how we’d make it. I thought about the little apartment near Duke we would maybe live in when I came back from Yale in 2 years. 

I quickly shook away the thoughts as I felt a smile creep onto my face. No. It would mean another goodbye and I was barely surviving this one. Us being over now would save us both a lot of heartache. Well, it would save him the heartache. As for me, I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get over him.

“You punched someone? Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Mike scolded me during first period, as he looked at my hand that was bruising up rather nicely.

“It wasn’t her fault,” Ashton interjected. “Anderson was way out of line.”

“And you just let her deal with it herself? Smooth move, Irwin…” He glared at Ashton before turning back to me. “Have you absolutely lost it? What if you’re suspended? You think Yale wants somebody who breaks people’s noses when they look at her the wrong way?”

I rolled my eyes. It wasn’t like he’d never gotten in trouble for punching someone.

“Drop it, Mike. Luke’s mom isn’t going to suspend anybody. We’ll spend a few days in detention; it won’t even get reported to the office,” Ashton tried again to come to my defense.

“Oh, put a sock in it, Irwin! This is your fault, you know! All of this!” Mike yelled at him, his own hands clenched into fists.

I finally snapped myself, my fingers grateful to be moving. Shut up! Both of you! Mike, you can’t get mad at me for defending myself and you can’t get mad at Ashton for not defending me either, when Ashton made it very clear that we weren’t together anymore. Now, both of you, zip it!

“Mads… I didn’t mean… Are we broken up? Is that what you want?” Ashton asked.

I sighed, suddenly very confused, along with angry and frustrated. He had a point. We had never actually said the words that we were breaking up. But between the fight and ignoring each other all break, I had assumed we were. Can we not do this now? I asked, feeling my eyes water as my vision went blurry. A wave of new anger rolled over me. God, I was so sick of crying!

“Yeah, we can talk later. Maybe after detention we can go figure all this out?”

I nodded. I didn’t sign for the rest of the day.

In Mrs. Hemming’s class after school, she had us all sit in different parts of the room. “So, have we all calmed down?” she asked after we took our seats.

I nodded, along with Ashton and Calum. It was Ben who shook his head. “She just gets away with punching me?” he asked.

“From all accounts I’ve heard and seen, it was self defense,” Mrs. Hemmings told him. “Mr. Anderson, you have a history of acting aggressively. Miss Clifford does not. If I report this I’m certain it will affect your future much more than it’ll affect hers. But, if you’re so inclined...” she let the words hang in the air.

“No, it’s fine,” Ben huffed.

“That’s what I thought,” Mrs. Hemmings smiled. “Now, as for you, Mr. Hood and Mr. Irwin. You two didn’t really have anything to do with this, so you’re both free to go.”

Ashton and Calum exchanged a look, grabbed their stuff and left the room.

When the door closed, Mrs. Hemmings turned his attention back to Ben and me. “So, are we in agreeance that this won’t happen again, and to move past this particular situation without retaliation?”

I nodded, and after a glowering look from Mrs. Hemmings, Ben also nodded.

“Good,” Mrs. Hemmings clapped her hands together. “See you both in class.”

I grabbed my stuff and left the classroom. Ashton was there, waiting for me. That was weird.

“Yeah, Luke’s mom is like that. You ready?”

I nodded and followed him to his truck. I sat in the passenger seat, everything feeling so familiar I almost forgot what we were doing. “So… look, I’m really sorry. About everything,” he blurted. “I was angry, and I took it out on you. And it wasn’t right. Especially when all you were trying to do was make me feel better. I just… needed time to be miserable, I guess.”

I nodded, taking in his words. I’m sorry, too. I could have been more sympathetic.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I was a jerk. I would’ve left me too.”

I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. I want so badly to move past this.

“Then let’s do that,” he practically begged. “Don’t give up on us.”

But college… we’re going to two different places. I thought I could do it, but honestly, I don’t think I can say goodbye to you again.

“Who said we had to say goodbye?”

2 years is a long time to be away from someone you love. And what if I decide to do grad school?

“You want to do grad school?”

I don’t know. Maybe. Yale has a really good Masters program for photography.

“But, the apartment at Duke…” his lips stopped moving.

I sighed a heavy sigh. This wasn’t the plan, I signed more to myself than to him, beginning to cry. The plan was always Yale… I didn’t plan to fall in love. I didn’t plan to have my heart broken. What do I do?

He wrapped his arms around me, and I let him hold me. Despite the past week, he still felt so safe. “Do you trust me?” he asked, tilting my chin so I could see him.

I don’t know. I want to. God, I want to…

“Madison. Do you know that I’m sorry? Do you believe me?”

I nodded.

“Can you give me another chance? To make it up to you and show you that we can handle whatever distance we’ll be facing?”

Why didn’t you message me during spring break? I wiped my eyes.

“I was angry. I was angry at myself for letting you walk out. I was angry at you for being so level-headed when I just wanted you to be there for me; to let me be angry. I was scared that I just fucked everything up. Then, when I finally calmed down, I didn’t think texting was going to be enough. So, I went to your house, but your parents said you were sick.”

You came to my house?

“Yeah. I thought you were actually sick. Stupid…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, something I had learned he did when he was embarrassed by his actions. God, a matter of months had all it taken for my world to take a complete 180 and all over a boy. A boy I knew I would spend the rest of my life loving. “I’m so sorry…” he was saying.

I leaned my head back and stared out into the parking lot. Was it worth getting back together when I knew what it felt like to lose him? Was it worth the risk? What would happen if we had a fight like this with states between us rather than a few street lights? 

On the other hand, what if everything got even better? What if Ashton made me happier as time went on and we only feel deeper for each other? Could I live with myself if I called things off without knowing what we were actually capable of?

I thought about each question, grateful that Ashton remained quiet so I could think in peace. In the end, I decided that I owed it to myself to listen to my dad’s advice, as well as the advice I’d yelled at Ashton while he laid in a hospital bed. That one fight, didn’t mean it was over, and that one little setback didn’t automatically spell disaster. As fearful as I was about our suddenly very unstable future, I wasn’t ready to let this be our ending. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to the only boy I ever loved.

Okay.

“Okay what?”

I’m willing to give us another chance.

“Good, because I’ve really missed you.”

I reached over to kiss him. I’ve really missed you, too. But, can we not push each other away when we’re angry? I really didn’t like that. Or you, to be honest.

“I didn’t like me either,” he half laughed. “No ultimatums either. You can’t threaten not to come back if I need time to cope with things. No matter how angry I sound and how angry it makes you feel.”

I nodded. Honesty and no being jerks to each other. Simple.

“Simple,” he agreed.

[hamlet-writes]

Study Hall

Jonathan Crane was used to dealing with unexpected visitors, whether they be potential assailants or fellow rogues (or both).  Therefore, the insistent knocking on his apartment door came as no major surprise.  Glancing somewhat warily in its direction, Jonathan unfolded his legs and rose from the tattered leather couch he had been perched upon.  He started forward to greet his guest, then paused, thought for a moment, and swiped the syringe of fear toxin from its spot on the coffee table before crossing the room in two long strides and cautiously pulling the door open.

He had been expecting a number of people- Edward, here to pester him yet again; Jervis, here for medication or advice; Batman, here to break his nose and drag him back to Arkham- but the young woman he found himself faced with now was not one of those options.  Her long, blonde hair was disheveled and tangled, yanked out of its neat ponytail and falling forward over her tear-streaked face, and she looked up into his eyes with such an expression of horror and relief that he found himself speechless.

"...Ms. Randall?" Jonathan asked after he had regained his voice, incredulous.  That seemed to be the final straw for poor Molly.  With a strangled sob she half-stumbled, half-jumped across the threshold, throwing herself into the stunned Jonathan's arms.

"Professor Crane, please," Molly gasped, clutching his shirt in balled fists as if he would disappear if she let go. "I-I-I recognized you on the street, b-but I didn't tell anyone, I sw-swear!"  Almost by instinct, Jonathan wrapped a protective arm around his former student’s trembling figure, pulling her inside and closing the door. "My dear child, what happened?" Jonathan asked.  Even as the question left his mouth, he had already figured out the answer.  If the floral blouse pulled haphazardly back across her chest after being torn open wasn't a clear enough indicator, her shredded and blood-stained white skirt certainly sealed the deal.

"My-my coworker followed m-me out on the way home," Molly stammered out between quick breaths, still clinging desperately to Jonathan. "I...t-told him I wasn't...B-But he wouldn't, wouldn't listen t-to me.  I-I-I couldn't get him off, I couldn't, h-he wouldn't..."  She broke off at that with a sound somewhere between a whimper and a shriek, burying her face in Jonathan's chest and sobbing hysterically.

It took every ounce of Jonathan's self control to swallow the righteous fury threatening to overtake him.  Setting the vial of fear toxin down on the table, he grabbed his coat from where it hung on its hook by the door and pulled it over Molly's quaking shoulders, leading her gently inside.

“Shh...” Jonathan said. “You’re safe now.  I got ya, Molly.”

How odd to see the Scarecrow speaking so gently now, so different from the callous cruelty he usually reserved for his fellow human beings.  Stranger still to see Jonathan, usually so averse to physical contact, allow Molly to keep her vice-like grip on his shirt even as he settled both of them onto the raggety couch tucked against the peeling and mildewy wall.  For a long while he simply sat there, one arm still around her, rubbing reassuring circles on her shoulder with the thumb of his hand as she sobbed into his chest.

After what seemed an eternity Molly finally pulled away, wiping the last tears from her red and puffy eyes and pulling Jonathan’s coat tightly across her chest.

“...Ms. Randall,” Jonathan said after a moment’s pause. “You’re most certainly welcome here, but why come to me?  Why not go to the police?”  A strange question, given his open despisal of the Gotham City Police Department, but Jonathan was willing to admit that there were some things that they were better equipped to handle than he was. “Or the hospital, at the very least?”  The girl’s wounds were obviously more than psychological, but she bit her lip and shook her head.

“No, I- my parents are paying off my student loans,” Molly said, wiping the heel of her hand quickly across her face. “If they found out this happened, they’d think it was my fault.  I can’t afford that.”  Jonathan clenched his jaw but made no comment, simply nodding.

“But why me?” he asked. “Outta anyone you coulda gone to?”

“You were the closest person I knew I could trust,” Molly said.  

Her words hit him like a truck.  “Trust” and “rogue” weren’t words that were usually associated with each other, and for good reason.  Jonathan hadn’t earned his reputation as one of the most dangerous people on the eastern seaboard on words alone, and to hear Molly say that she trusted him was almost surreal.  The thought brought him back to his days as a professor, and that was enough to set the beast in his chest to growling again.

“Who did this to ya, Molly?” Jonathan said, and his voice was low, barely above a whisper, but it carried on it the beginnings of a storm.  The underlying threat was not lost on Molly.

“Professor, I really don’t-” she began, biting her lip.

“Who?” Jonathan insisted.  Molly looked him over for a moment, pulling his coat more tightly across her shoulders and shivering.

“Michael Bromley,” she said, then cast her gaze down to her lap. “Professor, can I...use your shower?”  The girl was giving him exactly the opportunity he needed and she knew it.  Jonathan nodded and put on what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“First door on the right, my dear,” he said, offering her a hand and pulling her gently to her feet.  She nodded slowly, starting away from him and sliding the door wordlessly shut behind herself.  As soon as the latch had clicked Jonathan had swiped his phone from its spot amongst the clutter of the coffee table, hurriedly typing in the number.

“Edward, I need an address,” Jonathan said as soon as the phone stopped ringing.

“Well hello to you too,” the Riddler said. “I’m doing wonderfully, thank you for asking.”

“This ain’t the time, Edward,” Jonathan snapped.

“Well, if you want information, you’re going to have to pay like anyone else,” Edward said with a bored sigh, no doubt draping himself dramatically over the nearest chair or person.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake-” Jonathan began.

“I run a business, Jon, you can’t just expect me to give out freebies to every tall, dark, and handsome man,” Edward interjected.

“Edward, please,” Jonathan said, lowering his voice.  There was a pause on the other line.

“Fine, but only because you asked so nicely,” Edward said, recognizing the rare urgency in his friend’s voice. “What’s the name?”

“Michael Bromley,” Jonathan said.  The faint tapping of computer keys was the only sound for a moment.

“Just sent it to you,” Edward said with a bit of a huff. “I hope you’re gra-”

Jonathan hung up before he could finish his sentence.  Stomping across the room, he swiped his mask and the syringe of fear toxin from their spots on the table before slamming the door behind himself with a loud clang.

~

Michael Bromley fumbled with the apartment door, finally managing to get the key into the slot and throwing his shoulder against it to force his way inside.  Scratching at his sideburns, he chuckled dumbly to himself before stumbling through the dark.  Thick fingers finally found the light switch, and a hazy yellow glow flooded the apartment.  Bromley didn’t even notice the figure illuminated suddenly from behind until a hand grabbed him by the back of the neck.  Something jerked his head down, cracking his face against the kitchen table with enough force that he could feel his nose collapse in on itself even before blinding pain shot through his entire skull.  He cried out, clutching his bleeding face with rough hands and stumbling away before whirling to face his attacker.

Jonathan stood snarling from beneath his mask down at Bromley, framed by a crown of faltering yellow light- THE SCARECROW ON HIS PERCH.  

“I know what you did,” Jonathan growled, stalking towards Bromley.  The man finally seemed to take in the mask leering down at him, the hangman’s noose fastened around the monster’s neck, the syringe clutched between claw-like fingers, and all the color drained from his face as he took a hasty step away.

“What the hell’re you talking about?” Bromley said.  He knew, oh, he knew what he had done, Jonathan could see the fear in his eyes now, and in a different circumstance it might have brought a sadistic smile to his lips.  This wasn’t the time for pleasure though, oh no; this wasn’t just control, not power, this was pure, righteous fury, and a dangerous growl rumbled like thunder in the back of the Scarecrow’s throat as he advanced on Bromley.

“Don’t play dumb with me, boy!” Jonathan snapped.  He bared his teeth beneath his mask. “Didja think she owed ya, hmm?”  Bromley scrambled backwards, striking the back of his knee on one of the chairs around the table in his haste to escape and falling with a harsh crash to the linoleum floor.

“Didja think she’d say yes to an animal like you?”  Jonathan tightened his grip on the syringe, prowling forward. “And ya are, ‘cause only an animal woulda done what you did to her.”  Bromley swallowed hard, glancing feverishly around for something to defend himself with.  

“Didja enjoy it, Bromley?” Jonathan hissed. “That rush of adrenaline when she tried to push ya away?  The feelin’ of power when ya hit her?”

“Why the hell do you care, man?!” Bromley said, high and strident with tremulous terror. “She’s just some dumb bitch!”

Three things happened next.  The first was that whatever thin barrier had been holding Jonathan back shattered.  He launched himself at Bromley with a high-pitched sound caught somewhere between a growl and a screech, plunging the syringe into the animal’s jugular and jamming his thumb down on the stopper with enough force to bruise.  

“She was my student,” Jonathan snarled.  Bromley stiffened, eyes widening with shock as the fear toxin slid like ice through his veins.  Jonathan could see the fear set in, could see reality slipping away, but it brought him none of the usual satisfaction.

The second was that Bromley began to tremble, crying out and clawing frantically in a desperate attempt to free himself from underneath Jonathan’s snare.  Jonathan dug one viciously bony knee into Bromley’s stomach, pinning him to the floor and glaring down at him.

“D’ya feel that, Bromley?” he growled. “It’s got ya in it’s grip now, don’t it, boy?”  

“Get off!” Bromley cried, trying to shove Jonathan away. “Get off get off get off!”

“How’s it feel, Bromley?” Jonathan hissed. “To be completely powerless?  To try an’ get away, terrified, but be unable to escape?”  He grabbed a fistful of Bromley’s shirt, lifting him up and slamming him down hard on the linoleum floor. “To be completely at someone else’s mercy?”

The third was that the door flew off its hinges, crashing into the drywall as a swift heel cracked against it.  Jonathan’s attention snapped to the door just as a gauntleted fist grabbed him by the hangman’s noose fastened around his neck, and he gagged as Batman yanked him off of Bromley, tossing him across the kitchen.  Day-old dirty plates and unattended pans clattered to the floor as Jonathan landed with a cacophonous crash on the table’s surface.

“How?” he gasped, teeth bared in a pained snarl as he propelled himself to the floor, keeping the table decidedly between him and the Bat.

“The neighbors heard everything,” Batman said, reaching for something on his utility belt.

“Oh no you don’t,” Jonathan growled.  Heaving with all his strength, he flung the table off its wobbly legs and into Batman, making a mad dash towards the open window.  Just as he was steeling himself to take the drop from the third floor, there was a flurry of yellow and red, and a puckish, masked boy appeared in the frame.

“Mind if I drop in?” Robin asked, grinning cheekily.  

“You li’l brat,” Jonathan growled, reaching into his coat for the switchblade.  Robin grabbed the top of the window frame and lifted himself up, swinging through the window and kicking Jonathan hard in the chest.  The Scarecrow stumbled backwards, wheezing from the impact.  Unfortunately, Batman had recovered from the momentary distraction, and was ready for him now, confiscating the knife with one hand and twisting Jonathan’s arm behind his back with the other.

“Damnit!” Jonathan swore, trying vainly to jerk himself out of the Bat’s vice.  Batman pulled up ever so slightly on Jonathan’s arm- a warning, but it sent a spike of pain up through his elbow that made him gnash his teeth together.

“Check on him,” Batman said, jerking his head towards Bromley.  His struggles had ceased, and he lay curled up in the very furthest corner of the room, shivering violently and gasping for breath.  Robin nodded, darting to the man’s side.

“Don’t bother,” Jonathan snapped. “He ain’t wakin’ up.”

“What did you do?” Batman growled.  Jonathan chuckled despite himself.

“My toxin’s effective at a concentration of point-one molar,” he said.

“How many did you give him?” Batman said.  Jonathan couldn’t help it- he threw back his head and laughed.

“How many, Crane?” Batman insisted, pulling up sharply on Jonathan’s arm, whose laughter turned quickly to a pained gasp.

“Five,” Jonathan snapped. “The mind can only take so much.”  Robin looked up from his crouched position beside Bromley’s comatose form.  Batman turned to look at him, and the boy simply shook his head.

“Why?” Batman said.

“Why?” Jonathan said, and the beast had begun to rumble in the back of his throat again. “Why?  If you had any idea what that, that animal had done, you woulda been here yourself long ‘fore I was.”  He tried once more to pull himself out of Batman’s vice-like grip, to no avail, and fell back, gnashing his teeth together like a feral beast. “But where were ya, Dark Knight, hmm?  You self-proclaimed protector o’ the innocent, you come to the aid of an animal, but where were ya when she needed your help?”  Batman said nothing; he knew he would keep talking, yes, Jonathan always kept talking, perhaps too much, a byproduct of his teaching years...

His student.

“She showed up at my door, jus’ a-sobbin’ away, bleedin’, an’ she asked for my help,” Jonathan snarled.  Well, that wasn’t exactly fair- Molly would be horrified by what he had done, he knew it, but the man had deserved it...

“Who?” Batman asked.

“Molly Randall,” Jonathan said, as if it were obvious. “He-”

“WayneTech employee,” Batman interrupted, pursing his lips.

“Well, yes,” Jonathan said, though he wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything.

“What happened to her?” Batman asked.

“Whaddo ya think?” Jonathan spat, craning his head to glare back at him.  Batman clenched his jaw and said nothing.  Jonathan’s attention was drawn to Robin, glancing uncertainly between rogue and vigilante, and the small part of him that was still a teacher hoped the boy had no idea what they were talking about.

“Your time passed, Batman,” Jonathan said. “She didn’t need protection, she needed revenge.”

“Not like this,” Batman said.

“Exactly like this,” Jonathan snapped.  Red and blue lights pierced through the hazy yellow glow still illuminating the apartment, and police sirens crescendoed slowly to life.

“Took ‘em long enough,” Jonathan scoffed.  Wordlessly, Batman steered Jonathan towards the door, allowing for one last glare at Bromley’s eerily still form before he was being led swiftly down the stairs.  Batman all but shoved him down the last flight, and Jonathan squinted against the sudden light.  

“Hey, wouldja look at that?” a gruff voice barked, and a rough hand yanked the Scarecrow’s mask from his face. “If it isn’t our favorite straw-stuffed freak.”

“Charmin’ as always, Detective Bullock,” Jonathan said, giving the man his most unimpressed look as Batman pushed him further into the throng of GCPD officers and squad cars.  Flashing lights, angry voices, and callous shoves surrounded him, flooding his senses, too much, too much-

Someone was snapping handcuffs onto his wrists, yanking him out of Batman’s custody, he wasn’t sure who- not that it mattered- and a nightstick was rammed into the small of his back, forcing him towards the nearest, very unappealing backseat of the squad car.  He’d been pushed halfway into it when he turned, locking eyes with Batman.

“You know I’m right,” Jonathan said.  A hand planted itself on top of his head, shoving him the rest of the way into the seat and slamming the door behind him.  Through the window Jonathan maintained eye contact with Batman.  The Bat looked away under his scrutiny, and the Scarecrow grinned.