A Study in Fear Inquiries Welcome

CW for blood, centipedes, syringes

"Oh, yeah. That's definitely broken."

"Why didn't you tell me you were injured?"

"Let me fix you up before you bleed out all over my ______."

"This is nothing. You should see the other guy."

"You're bleeding!"

"I'm fine. I'll walk it off."

"Please help. It hurts so much."

"Get back here! You can't just leave when you're injured!"

"I don't think I can walk. My leg is pretty messed up."

"That's a lot of blood."

"Hey, stay awake! You can't fall asleep with a head injury."

"Oh my god, your eye!"

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Why are you limping?"

"You didn't tell me whether you did it."

Mary doesn't turn her head to look at Jonathan as she hears him in the living room doorway; the glowing tip of her cigarette catches the rise and fall of her features, the curve of her cheekbone, as she leans further out onto the fire escape to exhale smoke long and slow into the night.

What had she seen? Or rather, what had she not seen? What had her mind filled in for her, what had her consciousness turned blankly away from?

A dead girl in an alley. There are a lot of dead girls in a lot of alleys in Gotham — in a lot of cities, even, in every city and suburb and backwater village in the continental US. But Mary had seen that much tonight, coming out the back door of the club and being met with that slack face — sickly green under the exit sign, ludicrous, clownish — and Jonathan standing too close, too close.

Claustrophobic.

"An experiment?" she asks now, disdain creeping in. Her eyes settle on him, but their expression is unreadable, beetle-black in the dim light.

In that quick glance, Mary had recognised the girl — woman, only a girl in the way all women stay girls in places like Gotham, girls being easier to cast aside, always — as Oswald's latest investment. Six shows a week already booked. Thousands of dollars in singing lessons, on the hair, on the clothes. Making it big.

And in that quick glance Mary had gotten involved. Get in the car. Hissed. Her fist clutching Jonathan Crane's sleeve, dragging him away and into the backseat, glancing back once-twice-three times at the closed fire door. A tense, silent car ride.

He keeps a respectable distance. Looming over Dahl does nothing to help him. She knows Jonathan too well to be bothered; either he'll drug her or he won't, but just standing close is nothing. Maybe an annoyance. And if Mary decides to do something to Crane? Her hands won't be getting dirty. She has men for that. So the good doctor finds a seat, making himself comfortable.

"I thought she was someone else."

Not quite. Not exactly. Not really. It had been a visual sucker-punch; the young woman stepping out at the wrong time, catching the eye of both Jonathan and the violent passenger in his head. An uncanny resemblance to a girl he knew a long, long time ago. His first kill come back to haunt him.

"She looked right through me, no recognition at all. Of course it wasn't-" he stops with a hum, mouth twisting up in a scowl. Just thinking about it has Scarecrow restless inside his skull. This isn't the place for Jonathan to give up control. There is no threat to deal with; the woman is already dead. "Doesn't matter now. People die all the time in this city, and if Oswald wants revenge for someone breaking one of his toys, let him try."

Jonathan doesn't have the resources or manpower Cobblepot has. How many rogues really do? But he's a single man in a big, dense city filled with cracks and crawlspaces for him to slip into. Every person that might be sent to drag Crane to the Penguin is going to end up a test subject for the good doctor's terrible work.

based on who i know is applying, i know already i'm not gonna get it. but i've been saying for months that i wanna cross train for this position and i cover for the upgrade for it. so y'know. fuck it we ball :)

based on who i know is applying, i know already i'm not gonna get it. but i've been saying for months that i wanna cross train for this position and i cover for the upgrade for it. so y'know. fuck it we ball :)