Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Dec 27, 2012 10:31:48 GMT -5
The place was heavily guarded, and he had come alone. After the last incident that happened it was best to leave Starfire where she was a go at this alone as he was supposed to. He needed Starfire for one purpose and one purpose alone, and she had fulfilled that purpose. His fingers twitched slightly on the outside wall of the warehouse where he knew she was now being kept when the thought came into his mind. So why hadn’t he released her?....He tried to come up with another reason as to why he hadn’t let her go but only one burning answer came to the forefront of his mind….It wasn’t enough. Whatever sick satisfaction he was getting from this woman wasn’t enough because she wasn’t screaming in her terror; she wasn’t blinded by the truth. It wasn’t a problem; there would be time for that. Right now he needed to focus on getting VerMillion back.
It had taken him a moment of sleuthing around the buildings edge before he got a better feel for his surroundings. The Scarecrow had made sure to note every camera and stay out of sight the most he could, using the shadows to his advantage. His needled glove was hooked to his arm but not entirely snapped in place so the glow wouldn’t give away his position, in return his needles would push nothing but air if used, and that would be lethal. He would have to be conservative in his usage of that arm, but it was nothing he hadn’t handled before.
After continuing around the building more he finally came across a small airshaft that was placed at the bottom of the building, an indication that there was something underneath it, simply more evidence that this was indeed the building and the information he had gained was correct. A guard had walked around the corner toward him and The Scarecrow sunk into the shadow of the building on the ground. He stayed perfectly still until the man passed, heavily armed and well armored. It seems The Penguin spared no expense to make sure that he wasn’t going to get in, even if he did find her. But what he didn’t understand was that these men couldn’t stop him, just as he could never stop him. Everyone succumbs to fear in the end.
Once the outside guard had passed he grabbed the medium sized canister he had with him and pulled it up to the vent. A tube was removed from his jacket and he hooked it to the silver container and then fed the rest down the vent. He fed it down and fed it down until he felt it hit something, the bottom of the shaft which would in turn lead into the rest of the building through the basement and rise into the other shafts. With this in mind he grabbed the duct tape he knew he would need and began to quickly tape the shaft so no air could escape, it was a sloppy way to seal it, but just as effective as anything else. After he was sure it was sealed, He turned the nozzle and let it start slowly seeping through the building. Grabbing the bottom of the canister he picked it up so it wouldn’t make any noise and placed it up against the wall of the building in the shadows, without night vision or a flashlight it would have been difficult to see. But in a few minutes it wouldn’t matter anyway. The toxin will have seeped into the building and he would be able to hear the screams from outside.
The dangers of this didn’t leave his mind, these men were armed and wounded animals or frightened animals were dangerous, mostly to themselves. The thought made him smile from within the mask as he listened and waited. The guard had come around the corner again and his back yet again went against the wall. The man walked across the line of the building until he heard the crack from his walkie talkie, there was a man screaming from the other end of it and the moment he heard it he rushed to the front of the warehouse, obviously headed inside….What a fool, he would soon be amongst their terror. With the opportunity give he took off his mask and turned on the distortion paired with the click of his fans to begin circulating on either side of his face. Once they were secure he placed it back over him and proceeded casually to the front door.
The Scarecrow adjusted his tie and pulled his coat over him more as he walked. There was a sort of spring in his step, a casual cool walk that showed he was in control, he was in power of this situation and that’s exactly what he was. He walked into the building without even looking into it first, there as a guard lying down on the floor just inside who had already stripped and was clawing his skin off. The Scarecrow turned his head and stared down at the man, soaking in the satisfaction of the terror on his face from the flesh eating disease he thought he’d brought upon himself. Jonathan walked passed him and down the hall where two men were at each other’s throats. He stepped by them as they choked each other repeatedly and headed down the stairs where he met yet another guard. This one had already been busy clawing his eyes out and was lying in a pool of his own blood before a door. Carefully The Scarecrow leaned down and took the guards keys from the loop of his pants and unlocked the door.
He had been preparing for this moment, and he knew that VerMillion was possibly on her back screaming to the top of her lungs, just as she was the first time he took her into his world. It was an unfortunate necessity, it would ware and she would be alright after he gave her the antidote. With that in mind he turned the key in the door and walked in. There were several rows of sealed cages, made of stone, grown men screaming and whimpering from within. He was waiting to hear VerMillion’s but as he walked through the short row he didn’t hear it. He checked into each hole in the cells that he had come to passing over several people, not even bothering to put the key in the door to release them. It wasn’t until he saw the tattered mess of what used to be her fiery red hair that was now darkened and dirtied from the conditions around her that he paused just to look at her. She seemed to be stirring from a sleep from the screams and whimpers around her. It seemed like it had been so long since he last laid eyes on her, and now she was in this condition…He shook the thought from his mind and walked up to the cage, expecting her to wake in terror because of the gas.
The Scarecrow reached into the strap in his coat to pull out the antidote and uncap it. He came close to the small barred window near the top of the door and attempted to get her attention. “I didn’t scare you, did I?” He whispered through the distortion of his mask, it cracked and popped as he did, making it louder than he wanted, but among the screams it was nothing but a whisper.
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Post by Heather Glass - VerMillion on Dec 28, 2012 5:12:17 GMT -5
It takes a surprisingly long time for VerMillion to wake up, in spite of the chaos that surrounds her. But she's been in this prison long enough to get used to it - and is perhaps more used to it than the average prisoner. Unlike those who would get an instinctive chill from the sound of the more insane captives occasional screams, to her it's simply an unwelcome loud noise - one that she can get used to and eventually learn to sleep through.
That's not the only thing she's gotten used to. She and Heather have been getting used to each other, even if Heather still occasionally expresses a hope that Jon will know how to fix them. VerMillion still fails to see how it's a problem, but is sure everything will turn out fine either way. Of course, VerMillion takes that attitude with a lot of things, which has made their captivity all the more tolerable. But also very, very boring.
It isn't until the sheer number and intensity of the screams indicate to her subconscious that something definitely not boring is happening that she actually wakes up. But since it's VerMillion on the surface, she doesn't appear to wake up in terror. Instead she wakes up in confusion because the moment that she becomes conscious Heather starts screaming in her head. "Heather, why are you screaming?" she asks, sounding put upon. Just because that's basically how they met doesn't mean that Heather screaming is a normal thing. In fact her alter ego hasn't screamed since. And it's all the more annoying because no attempt to cover her ears can muffle a noise that's actually happening entirely within her head.
There's a short pause as she gets an answer, and it makes her frown and say, "What? Jon isn't..." But it's then when a few quiet words reach her ears. And the voice is familiar; she can recognize Jon's voice anywhere whether he's using the distorter or not - never mind that she's technically never met him. As she looks up to the window, it's probably obvious to him that she's in a state of no fear. Besides her lack of reaction to the fear toxin in the air, the expression the comes immediately to her face is not relief - that emotion that comes when something feared is taken away. Instead it's the simple surprise of something unexpected happening followed immediately by delight at something very positive happening.
"Jon is here!" she says, a smile spreading across her face as she immediately climbs off of her cot. The cell is so small that it's only a few steps to reach the window, but it's far enough to reveal that she still has a significant limp on her right leg. It hurts a lot less than it did since it's had some time to heal, but it's still been recent enough that she can't walk on it without some pain. Though that's hardly on her mind now - it's too drowned drowned out by the screaming coming from both inside and outside of her head and the overwhelming feeling of sheer happiness that Jon is here.
Grabbing hold of the bars on the window, she exclaims, "I'm so glad you're here! Heather was starting to get really worried." Such is her joy that she neglects to consider how confusing that statement may seem to Jon since he's doubtlessly unaware of their new state of mind, but then again he might as well start getting used to that now.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Dec 31, 2012 15:13:07 GMT -5
The screams around him were distracting, but he had a mission that he needed to accomplish. The temptation was great, but he remained focused. There was no telling what kind of extra security was in this place and if he had any other extra precautions. Even if the man was quite occupied at the moment. The Scarecrow wasn’t stupid, he took precautions when they needed to be taken, and as a result he was able to continually stay ahead of a lot of his enemies…
When she finally stood on her feet he noticed that she immediately slumped to one side. She was injured. His mind race with several calculating and sporadic thoughts at once but he kept most of them at bay through the mask. From what he could see the injury wasn’t recent, she was able to stand on it, meaning that some healing had to have already occurred. The thought that he had hurt her to get information no doubt made his satisfaction in what had happened, all the sweeter. This was the reason why he never told her anything. Not that it did much for her health wise, but he would have hurt her anyways. It wasn’t the only injury on her body; he scanned over several other bumps and bruises she had on her face and arms. All would be taken care of when they got out of here.
When she came to the bars he met her gaze. His previous thoughts had distracted him from what was really important. She wasn’t screaming. She wasn’t even panicking. There was absolutely nothing, it was as if he had used brave toxin instead of the toxin he knew he released into the building. From behind the mask he looked baffled. But her words that followed her lack of fear led to even more questions. At first he thought he might have actually heard her wrong, but there was no mistake. What had he done to her?
Jonathan was silent for a long moment, trying to choose his words carefully. “Step back from the door.” The distortion cracked out from the mask and he began to flip through the keys to find the right one for her door. He tried a few keys, to no avail. There was several screams coming at him from each angle, people begging through the bars to be let out, having the keys in sight and so close to where they were. The hallucinations were starting differently for each individual, as it always had. This would have been a perfect place for study, but right now he just had to get her out of the cell.
Finally the right key got into the lock and he opened the door. The Scarecrow wasted no time moving in when he finally had her in front of him again. It was something that he had wanted…something he wanted for a while now. The thought was disturbing to him, but she was hurt. With a shake of his mask he didn’t dwell on it and immediately went to touch her face. He had no problems invading her personal space as usual. His fingers pried at her bruises, checking their texture and feel. “I’m here..” He whispered through the voice masker but there was little point to reassure her, she was not panicked at all. Of course there were scientific reasons as to why if it was brave toxin that was the culprit….but it wasn’t. “You’re not screaming… You’re not even tense.” He commented almost rhetorically to himself as if he had a pad and note paper sitting in front of him to research. He looked down at the injury on her leg. “Can you walk?” He asked, having already seen her make the first few steps but her mental state was still in question in his mind. Hobbling to the cell door wasn’t difficult but walking out of here might have been a different challenge for her entirely.
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Post by Heather Glass - VerMillion on Dec 31, 2012 19:25:14 GMT -5
Although Heather as she had been under the influence of brave toxin is extremely similar to VerMillion, there are a few subtle differences. One being that VerMillion provoked the guards a lot less - by and large Heather is a lot angrier about their situation than VerMillion is. Of course, that simply means that she's been beaten less than she might have otherwise and definitely not none at all. After the extremes of her first few days the guards simply don't like her and haven't been afraid to show it - the visible bruises she's sporting now are all different ages, and there are plenty more that are hidden by her clothing.
Not that any of her injuries seem to phase her at all aside from the obvious limp, and that's more a matter of just how bad the injury to her leg is. Of course, even that is the furthest thing from her mind at the moment as there are more pressing matters than pain she's long since gotten used to. Jon is here! Which, on top of being a rather exciting thing all on it's own, means all sorts of good things - getting out of this hellhole, finally silencing a good half of all the things Heather keeps worrying about...
When Jon asks her to step back, she immediately does so, fidgeting impatiently as he tries to find the right key. She finds herself wondering why he's wearing his mask - she'd really like to be able to see his face herself, rather than having to picture it from Heather's memories. Maybe it's for dramatic effect? Well, she's sure that she'll get a chance later. Right now, she's more than satisfied just to have him here.
Even if the first thing he does is touch her face. Which isn't a problem for most of it, but a couple of her bruises are still fresh and tender - hours old. She holds still for him anyway, though when his fingers find them her face twitches slightly in protest. Even so, she's smiling and lifts her hand to lightly hold his forearm - content to quietly appreciate this moment.
Then he comments on her calmness, and she frowns slightly in confusion. "Should I be?" she asks, though now that he points that out, she finally realizes, "Oh, that's why Heather and everyone's screaming - you're using fear toxin!" That explains the mask too, come to think of it. "Long story, but I'll try to sum up: I'm not Heather, I'm VerMillion. And we think I'm stuck not being able to fear," she explains, shrugging to show her own lack of understanding about why that is, "We're not really sure why we're different people now, but Heather's in my head right now. And she's seriously freaking out." Though she watches him to see if he's understanding that explanation, with his mask on it's unlikely she'll be able to tell unless he says something.
When he asks about her leg, she makes a face at the mere idea of having to walk on it but says, "Yeah, it just hurts a lot. I can handle it if I have to, though, but I wouldn't say no to a walking stick or something." While the split in her mind is the most obvious way she's changed during their time apart, it isn't the only thing. She who used to complain about getting a shot now has a new perspective on the subject of pain. If he'd asked her the same question while her leg was feeling the same amount of pain before she would have absolutely refused to even try walking on it unless the situation was clearly life or death. But that was before she'd experienced being shot twice and not being given any painkiller - it's had some time to heal since and by sheer comparison it really isn't that bad now.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Jan 5, 2013 23:00:00 GMT -5
There were many questions that needed to be asked the moment the next word left her mouth. He was sure this wasn’t brave toxin, and her further comments only lead to even more questions. He hadn’t been this confused about his own work in a long time. It couldn’t have been his mistake, everything was perfect and had gone according to plan, just look at the other men and women in the cells. They were screaming. He turned slightly. They were screaming weren’t they? They were..They were.
It was like he was losing his mind for a moment. The chemical that he had placed into the building was fear toxin; he didn’t have any brave on him. He was tempted to stop where he was and look at his vials to make sure. The temptation to go back around the building and check the canister was growing stronger by the second. But he knew that it would be impossible for it to have happened. He just simply didn’t make mistakes like that….and never did mistakes work out so well or so oddly in the end. So while she was talking, he was listening but his mind was racing at the same time, darting to every possibility that had gone wrong. He also had to keep in mind that The Penguin had his hand in this as well.
She was Not Heather….She was VerMillion. In a short statement from him that would be true but coming from her mouth was very different, especially being directed at him. What had this man done to her? Several medical possibilities jumped into the doctor’s mind, things that he would need tools and time to figure out, two things that he didn’t have at this moment. His mind just took a moment next to her to pause and think about what was going on. It was possibly to become delusional under hysteria but she didn’t have any of the other symptoms. DID seemed like the most likely case, but why hadn’t he seen this possibility before? It just didn’t make sense and it seemed that neither of their sides feared each other.. Due.. to..
…He didn’t know
The fact that he didn’t know was angering him by the moment. He knew everything psychological that there was to know and there was an explanation for this, he just needed to find out what it was. Even Schizophrenia was a possibility brought on by the trauma from the toxin he released; it might have triggered and caused her to have some delusional strain. But still, nothing about this made sense. There was only one conclusion for right now, he needed to get her out of here.
The doctor snapped out of his confusion and figured he would ask questions as they went. There was no time to inspect her leg. Gently he took he arm and put it over his shoulder to help her alleviate the pressure off her leg and use his weight to support her own. It wasn’t an easy feat; he was nearly twice her height. “It’s time to go. “ He said just before he changed his mind about making her walk and got his arms under her legs to carry her instead. It would have been faster, despite his ideals about it. “Where is Heather, and why is she there?” He asked very clearly and simply, he needed a clear and simple answer from her. “When did Heather become like this?” He followed up with a better question to keep her talking as he pulled her through the halls. He only got a glance as he walked, avoiding bodies carefully with each step, just a glance at her leg. It was quite bloody, dried blood; this wound was old and probably infected. If she didn’t want to lose the limb he was going to have to work quickly when they got back to his current place a residence.
That would be another change of scenery that she probably wouldn’t enjoy. The last place they were at, though it was a lab was much nicer than a sewer, but he wasn’t aiming to please her. She could complain about it all she wanted. His only current problem with it was it was not a sterile place and difficult to operate. But he was the best in his field, and he was the finest medical doctor he knew…So it wouldn’t be a problem he couldn’t handle.
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Post by Heather Glass - VerMillion on Jan 6, 2013 1:53:34 GMT -5
Though she can see the physical pause as he tries to understand her explanation, VerMillion can't figure out the exact reason for it beyond a broad guess that it's taking him a moment to wrap his mind around it. And she doesn't blame him - she's a party to this weird thing going on in her head, and she isn't sure she really understands what's going on. Mostly she only knows the mechanics of it - two people sharing a body, one can fear and the other can't, and she can decide which of them is out.
The questions of why it's the case are beyond her very limited psychological knowledge, and while she and Heather were able to make some guesses about the cause they're still just guesses and only somewhat understood. But while she's dealt with this for several days now and is no closer to an explanation, Jon ought to be able to figure it out. Or at least, that's the hope. Of course, while for Heather the explanation is of extremely vital importance along with any possibility of this problem being cured, for VerMillion it's more of a simple curiosity about herself.
Which is why she's in no particular hurry to get it fully explained just now. Instead her main attention is on the thought of leaving. So when Jon offers himself for a crutch, she's quick to try it even though the angle is quite awkward. If only he weren't so tall... But suddenly she finds herself scooped up in his arms. "Or this works," she comments with a smile. No, she'll not object to being carried - and the ease with which it'll make getting around is only one reason... She wraps her arms over his neck to help him hold her more securely and shifts her legs just slightly to keep the injured part of her leg from having any pressure placed upon it.
She, of course, is not worried about her leg. Heather has been, somewhat, though neither of them are a doctor so all they know is what they can feel: it hurts, but it hurts less than it did so presumably it's on the mend. The Penguin didn't seem to trouble himself about it beyond ensuring that she didn't bleed to death, though, and her cell is not exactly sterile so perhaps infection is something to consider. But she wouldn't know, she's not a doctor.
But once she's settled in his arms, she turns her attention to his questions and lets him worry about navigating them out of this terrible place. She doesn't seem troubled by the scene of chaos she's being carried through, and in fact she doesn't care where they're going. Unless Jon plans on locking her up in a cell and depriving her of his presence, it's doubtful that he'd be able to take her to a place that she'd prefer less even if it was lacking in other positives.
There's a hesitation before she answers his first question - Heather's location is not exactly an easy thing to describe. "She's in my head... Her mind 'feels' like it's behind mine to me, if that makes any sense. And she's there because I put here there - when I let her be in front she's the one on the surface, but when I do that she freaks out... I don't know why," she tries to explain. Fortunately, the follow-up question is easier. "It was something over a week ago - ten days maybe? It's hard to tell time down here; they took our watch and there aren't any windows. We think it was on our third day here when it happened," she explains, figuring that he'd know more precisely how long it's been and therefore be able to figure it out from there.
"The Penguin was asking us questions, but back when he was attacking us one of the darts you gave us was brave toxin and we used it - hoped it would help us fight, I guess," she explains further, knowing that Jon will want the story and figuring that she might as well tell it while they're getting out of here, "It didn't help with that, but when Penguin was talking to us it hadn't worn off yet and he got mad because we wouldn't answer his questions. So he shot us twice, and when that didn't work, he gave us fear toxin. And then... well, Heather started screaming because of the fear toxin and I happened." The last bit is said with her tone expressing her complete bewilderment - she knows the facts of what happened, but why they happened are at best matter of speculation to her.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Jan 8, 2013 14:14:09 GMT -5
The Scarecrow was careful as he stepped. There were still several bodies lining the halls with dangerous men. He had already passed some that had managed to find ways to kill themselves, a terrible waste, but they had all the provisions to do so. This why was a controlled working environment was so important, but of course among the chaos there was always panic… and that would be hard to deny. Even to spare the sake of his research, groups could be studied collectively…though his purpose in that would be far more sinister than even he would let onto. No one would understand.
He listened to her carefully, trying to process every word through the near and far screams that faded in and out depending upon their proximity to someone. As she spoke his mind began deducing the possible medical problems. He was able to discard several right away as she spoke but DID was still on the table. She was off on her time schedule; it had actually been much longer than that. The Scarecrow could relate to her in her loss of time. Solitary at the asylum was very similar. Days could go by like hours or hours could go by like days. Without the world and its society…time was indifferent.
His fingers curled around her knee and squeezes as she spoke of The Penguin but it quickly dropped. So he was the reason behind this. An amateur with a needle not knowing what he was doing. He could have effectively done anything to her. The effect of the toxins mixing together was still a large mystery to him although he had tested it before, he had never heard of a reaction like this. That was because the way he had done it was in a controlled environment. This couldn’t have been completely the drugs doing, some of this must have been psychological…But stranger things had happened in Gotham.
The Scarecrows focus came off of the hall and down to VerMillions eyes. His long lank legs stopped taking their outstretched strides and came to a stop in the middle of the corridor. He stared at her for a moment, just taking in the complexity of her iris, maybe he was trying to see Heather? He opened his mouth behind the mask to speak but nothing came out at first as he stared. The news print certainly didn’t do her justice. His eyes became lost in that moment to hers. The shine of her hair still burned through the unkempt tangles and the dirt that had accumulated in her time here. He couldn’t promise her a very pleasant shower, but he had one…Or at least a makeshift one.
Everything around him came back into focus as a man came around the corner, wildly firing off a gun and running toward them. He couldn’t do much with Vermillion in his arms except attempt to remain out of his way and dodge the passing bullets in this fatal funnel. He spun around as the man came by and slammed his back to the opposite wall. But something didn’t feel right, he suddenly couldn’t hear anything and the crack to his back was a steady pressure but nothing that should have been registering was. His vision blurred and he finally heard the echo’s in his inner ear of what sounded like a car continuously crashing. The gun had discharged right by his ear.
The wild man had continued passed them, though where he went he wasn’t sure of. His vision went out again and then came back in a blur. The scarecrow shook his head and then continued down the hall with her as quickly as possible. “We’ll talk later; I’m taking you back to the lab. I’ll run the tests there and I’ll find out what’s going on with you.” He spoke through the distortion of the mask now picking up his pace to get out of the building. His hearing still hadn’t fully come back, and the world was silent around him. There wouldn’t be any permanent damage, but all the same he would have to check when they were out of here. They took a few twists and turns through the building until he had made his way outside and made a B line for his stolen vehicle. With one hand he opened the passenger door and set VerMillion inside, running around to get into the driver’s seat and turn on the car to leave toward his….
‘new lab’
"Tell me about VerMillion."
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Post by Heather Glass - VerMillion on Jan 9, 2013 1:53:18 GMT -5
Honestly, VerMillion hadn't been very much concerned with tracking the days while they were down there, though Heather insisted that it was important so they tried. It was hard, though, as the main indicators of the passage of time was the changing guards and the number of times she was given food. Both weren't completely reliable, though, especially since she could never be sure how long she'd been asleep when she woke up. Especially during the days immediately after her visit with the Penguin when the pain in her leg was intense enough to make sleeping difficult. She's more certain that it had been three days after her capture that the visit had happened, but after that she's no longer sure.
But that hardly matters now - she's with Jon now so therefore the exact amount of time they were apart is unimportant. By any measure it was entirely too long, but in this moment she's simply happy to be with him again. Even if, technically, she's just meeting him now - to VerMillion so many of Heather's memories are so clear that they may as well be hers. And yet what she's inherited from Heather is not complete enough for her to be exactly the same - as VerMillion looks back at Jon she meets his gaze with the same ease as Heather would whenever she was on brave toxin and with the same pair of hazel eyes, but there's a very subtle increase in the intensity of her gaze.
Because she has Heather's memories she may already be familiar with the world outside of her cell but that's not quite the same thing as actually having been there so she drinks up her surroundings with new eyes. Were they to go back to their old hideout exactly as it was before it would seem much more familiar to her as that's where the bulk of the memories she connects with most were made but everything else, in spite of being familiar and expected, is still new to her. In most ways she may be a 23 year old woman just like Heather, but in a few she's like a newborn baby - weeks old. One that's been rather deprived.
And yet there is also a slight hint of Heather in her expression too, though Jon may not recognize it. There's a mildly distracted quality to her, as her alter ego is still screaming about Jon in her head and that's rather unpleasant. She's attempting to ignore it for now, as it was hard enough to talk Heather out of it during the calm after Penguin had left last time, and having Jon actually present this time seems to have made it worse. Seems like it's going to end up being a lot of work, so naturally she'll put it off for awhile first.
When the moment is suddenly interrupted by some guy with a gun, VerMillion is much slower to recognize the danger than Jon. But she does have the foresight to strengthen her grip so that he can do whatever maneuvering he has to do with slightly more ease in holding her - just because she can't fear doesn't mean that she can't recognize that Jon needs to move quickly and that she's hampering that. No, what the lack of fear does do is make her blissfully unaware of why Jon pauses and shakes his head before continuing down the hallway after then man passes. Had she feared she might be more concerned about how close the gun was when it went off, but since she doesn't and clearly saw that Jon didn't get shot she figures that all is well.
When he mentions taking her to the lab, she nods and idly comments, "Maybe you can get Heather to stop screaming at least..." She's not actually concerned about whatever is 'wrong' with her - it's Heather that kept on commenting on how Jon could probably fix them. As far as VerMillion's concerned they're just fine except for the fact that her other half can't seem to handle being 'out' and that she therefore has to put up with all the unpleasant things that have been happening instead of being able to take a break ever.
She gives a happy sigh the second that they're outside - after being cooped up for so long it's a joy being out here where there's so much space around. Even if she immediately gets stuck in a car - at least a car is a temporary confinement. And she's glad that Jon is hurrying now - she'll be happy to have that place behind her.
The question he asks the moment they're both in the car causes her to smile. Oh, how does she explain herself? She hasn't had very much time to figure herself out, after all. But she says, "Well, I'm a lot like Heather. Except for the fear thing, anyway - I know the same things, our tastes are the same... My memory's different though; I remember all the same things, but some of my memories are really clear - the stuff that happened while we were on brave toxin especially - while the other stuff gets hazy. Especially when Heather was really scared - trying to figure out what was going on during a lot of that is kind of a mind screw for me. And other than that I don't know what to say - you already know Heather and all I've done is sit in that cell."
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Jan 9, 2013 10:45:32 GMT -5
His head was still throbbing from the gunshot that had gone off so close to his ear. Better that it was there than somewhere that actually hit him, but his hearing wasn’t the best thing to lose at the moment. Something that loud and that close would have definitely caused damage but not something that couldn’t be healed with time. For the next few hours he would just have to be more cautious in what he did working at 50% capacity. There was certainly more to his research than just sight.
Despite the in and out throbbing of his head he still managed to pull the keys from his pocket and stick them in the ignition. Luckily the man had given up his keys very easily and he didn’t have to go through a struggle before he came here. If not he would have had to hotwire the car and it would have taken more time. The Scarecrow preferred to save time when he could. As he thought of saving time he turned on the ignition and he barely heard the roar of the engine in the old car, that wasn’t a good sign. And it wasn’t until he had turned his gaze to VerMillion that he had noticed she was talking.
He paused for a moment, just staring at her as her lips moved. He could still hear through his other ear but it was quite close to the gunshot as well. He could hear the muffled tones of her voice from one, recognizing several words just from the brain putting the sounds and her lip movement together but aside from that he just stared at her, trying to register. It was good that she was talking, perhaps it would calm her nerves…or one of their nerves. The thought that they were now two people was still difficult to imagine, but there was nothing he could do about it in the car.
The silence was deafening between them, or at least that’s what it felt like between the headache and her words that he was barely able to make out. She was talking about herself as he had asked, something about his toxins and the place that she was at. He would let her talk for a while more before he’d ask her anything else. After a moment of debate he took off his mask in the car revealing his face to her for the first time in a long time. He kept turned to her as he looked down at the mask, nodding slightly to her words to let her know he was listening…or at least trying to. Slowly he clicked off the distortion and the fans and placed the mask on the middle console.
With his mask out of the way he grabbed his glasses in his coat pocket and checked them for any bends or cracks that may have happened from the last time he checked. He put them on his face and adjusted them before he finally put the car in drive and drove off toward their destination. He occasionally glanced to VerMillion. When she stopped speaking and began staring at him he thought of something to ask her off the top of his head, it was the first thing that came to mind. “Did you think I was going to come for you?” He asked softly, turning to her for just a moment. It was an odd question for him. If he had been able to hear himself say it, it would have been even more awkward.
It wasn’t the first time he had thought about it however. It had been some time since they had seen each other last, it wasn’t as if he had never thought about her, his entire plan revolved around getting her back and he had the capability. But she was just trapped in a cell and tortured. There was little sympathy in his eyes, and he would probably produce none, but that question was the closest that it would ever come. He wondered if she thought he would come for her….And now he wouldn’t even know the answer. Perhaps it was better that way.
His eyes focused on the road, letting her talk if she wanted, he wouldn’t hear most of it for a while. The place they were going to was a bit of a drive but it wasn’t too far. He had spent the rest of the time in silence, regardless of what she had said to him or not. She would be able to figure it out on her own if anything that he was either ignoring or couldn’t hear her, either were likely choices. He stopped the car near an alleyway and finally turned to her again, motioning for her to get out and follow him. He grabbed the mask of the console and walked up to the manhole down the alley with her. Dr. Crane took a nearby crowbar that he kept behind the midway dumpster and pried it up. “After you..”
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Post by Heather Glass - VerMillion on Jan 9, 2013 13:57:24 GMT -5
Since Jon is pretending to listen, and honestly VerMillion is just happy to be able to talk to someone who isn't more interested in beating her up than hearing what she has to say, she doesn't really notice that he's not responding very specifically to her words. Not that Jon is ever the most expressive conversation partner.
When he takes off his mask, though, her attention immediately fixates on his face. Damn, Heather's memory hardly does him justice... Not that the memory isn't extremely clear and hasn't been in the forefront of her mind for quite some time, but... well, it's just different seeing him in person.
As she finishes her description of herself there's a long pause, though she's still watching his face and doesn't really notice just how long it is before he asks another question. It causes her to frown slightly in thought. "I hoped so," she replies, "You were taking long enough though that I thought of breaking myself out, but with my leg like this..." She shakes her head as her words trail off, finally letting her gaze drift from Jon to the windows. It's dark out, which is kind of surprising to her since her internal clock is completely messed up and it feels like it ought to be early morning - the sun just coming up. A glance at the clock on the radio informs her that it's actually 1:31 and the total absence of the sun means that it's AM, so she's roughly six hours off. Weird...
"Heather was more worried about it," she continues, watching the city pass by her window, "Was starting to wonder if you were coming or not, and wondering if you weren't because something happened to you or if you didn't want to." But she shrugs, as that's hardly important now since obviously Jon ended up coming after all. She knew that the situation would work out fine in some way eventually. Now how or when, but she hardly pictured herself just sitting there and rotting forever.
The silence that follows that stretches on, and at first she doesn't mind it, figuring that Jon is concentrating on driving. And then she notices the direction they're going and idly asks, "Where did you say we were going?" Her question greeted with only silence, she looks over at him and sees no sign that he intends to respond. Frowning, she then remembers he said something about the lab. But this isn't the right way to... unless he moved it. Having been taken directly from where their car was stopped to the Penguin's prison she hadn't been fully aware of just how compromised their old hideout had become, let alone that the Penguin had taken everything. But now that she thinks about it, yeah she supposes it makes sense to move after that. Hopefully Bobby handled the change of scenery well - she misses the little guy.
The silence after her question continues to drag on uncomfortably. She's used to Jon's long silences - or at least, she remembers plenty of them so it's not unexpected - but she has little patience for boredom. The sheer fact that she's out of her cell is a huge boost, but it doesn't hold her attention for long when Jon's not talking back. Eventually she flicks on the radio and tunes it to her old station - they do news programs 24/7 and she knows right now they'd be rebroadcasting the day's top stories. She doesn't particularly care what's been happening in the world in her absence, but it's better than the absolute silence if Jon will tolerate having the radio on. And when he doesn't attempt to turn it back off after a moment, she figures it's okay.
Finally the car stops, and she looks around curiously at the alleyway - Jon's new lab is around here? She gets out when prompted, wincing a little when she moves her injured leg though the pain is not more than she can handle. Enough for her to instantly miss being carried, but she supposes that was just to get them out of that prison. Oh, well. Her eyebrow raises when he starts removing the manhole cover - it's down there? How... pleasant. Still probably better than the prison, though, so she shrugs that off. If she's learned anything the past few weeks, it's how much she can deal with. So, by the time he's cleared the cover she's already more or less accepted it.
Though she pauses a moment before positioning herself to go to down the ladder built into the tunnel it leads to. It isn't hesitation - after all, she hasn't one iota of fear within her, not counting Heather, so a dark underground tunnel means nothing to her - but she gets a sudden impulse she sees no reason to ignore. Stepping close to Jon, she suddenly pulls his shirt to bring his lips within reach of hers and she plants a quick kiss on them. "Thank you," she murmurs, stepping immediately away again to turn her attention back to the hole she's supposed to go down. She knows he won't like it, but getting her out of that place deserves her gratitude whether he wants it or not, and she can express it however she wants.
Looking at the hole, after a moment of consideration she bends and places her hands on the ground next to it, using them to help hold her weight as she moves her legs down the start of the ladder. Then, when she's low enough, she can move her hands to the top rung and make her way down normally from there. The process is painful as her injured leg does not appreciate taking that much weight, but she simply grimaces and bears it - if that's where she must go, then there's not really any help for it so she won't complain.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Jan 9, 2013 14:50:31 GMT -5
Dr. Crane was a man of few words, and even fewer tonight due to unforeseen circumstance. But it could be certain that when he did speak it was going to come with a meaning, weather cryptic or clear it always meant something to him. To ignore his warnings or refuse to heed his words was an unwise decision and even the professionals in Gotham knew better than to take what he spoke of lightly. When a man rarely speaks, the things he does say are always important.
He hadn’t paid much attention to VerMillion when she had been speaking in the car but as she limped up to him now his full focus was on her. He needed to give her medical attention as soon as he could, the leg looked even worse when she tried to walk on it. However, she would be able to make it down the latter if she tried, she would just need to use her good leg and put a bit more weight on her arms so she could hop down. If they could get down there they could be a bit freer than up here. An ironic parallel.
She stopped in front of him and the man hole for a moment and he cast the crowbar to the side looking at her. He noticed that she wasn’t talking anymore. Maybe she had figured out that he couldn’t hear her very well and stopped trying all together, but she was staring at him so oddly. Dr. Crane never paid much attention to his looks. His hair was usually partially unkempt; his clothes were never properly fitted. Most of his money was spent on his research or his chemicals he needed and everything else came at a second rate including his appearance. As a child he had been taught to ignore his appearance, because he was never graced with the ability to even look at it. When he got to grade school the other children told him what he was worth and it only got worse from there. Growing into an adult he realized what was going on all those years and stopped paying attention to it all together. He didn’t need to waste his time trying to impress anyone with looks. But there was something in the way she looked at him.
VerMillion stepped closer to him, his space was already invaded the moment she was within an arm’s length but he didn’t move from her. Perhaps she wanted to use him as a counter weight to get down into the manhole. He stared at her, wondering what she was planning on doing and if she was going to use him as leverage. The thought came back into his mind about looks; hers were certainly about as unkempt as his right now, except she probably needed a shower far more than him. Yet through the smudges on her face and the blood on her clothes all he could see was who she really was, the very same that he had a fender bender with not a few streets down from here. She would never be able to escape that.
Suddenly his shirt was pulled and caused him to take a single step forward, half a step forward. His mind nearly went blank with what happened next. It had split into so many directions he could barely pull himself back together again to process it. Her lips came to his and met them as quickly as they left. This time he didn’t shove her off, he didn’t walk away from her, and he just stood there like a deer in the headlights. His eyes were far off from where they were standing as his mind went over past events, things that he had repressed and restrained himself from thinking about. Why was she doing this again…He…He had told her about doing this. Yet she claimed to be someone different now, that could have been an explanation. His thoughts of looks surfaced back into his mind and then was quickly shaken off. It impacted him so much; he didn’t realize he just stood there like a blundering fool until she spoke her next words.
His mind finally snapped back into focus and his eyes fell back into their dilation like a bowling ball had just been dropped in him. The word echoed in his mind and caused him to jump completely out of his thoughts from before. He never was one for thank you’s or your welcome’s. They were false words with a false meaning…..This meant the kiss must have been as well. His fist clenched trying to hold his anger at bay as she slipped into the manhole in front of him. The anger was an excellent substitute for any ancient feelings that tried to dig up the past moments ago. That was the same moment that he had also realized he had heard the word Thank you from her. Or had he? Had he just heard it in his mind?
Realizing she had faded into the dark the doctor followed by gripping his hands around the rail and sliding down after she had removed herself. He jumped from the last step and immediately moved to take her under his arm again. It was a bit of a walk from here but not far. “I know it’s not what you’re used to seeing… “He commented, trying to find the right words to say you’re welcome without saying you’re welcome. He knew what he was supposed to say but it never felt right to him. “You’ll be safe here….I…Didn’t mind..Coming to get you..” He spoke socially awkward after, like a man that had never said you’re welcome in his life and he didn’t plan on starting soon. The words were easy to say when they fell with no meaning or sarcasm, but to truly mean them was another story.
Knowing those weren’t the best words to say he continued to lead her until they came into an opening. “Here it is.” He spoke again just trying to drop the subject completely. He walked her over to the only medical table he had and set her down on it. There was a larger part around the corner, but he wasn’t going to take her over there. She had no business seeing all of that and right now what was important was her leg. When he felt she was adjusted he turned from her and began grabbing medical supplies out of a questionable bag on the floor. Everything around them seemed scummy and germy. It was no place for him to work in, but it was the best he could do for now. "Do you know if it exited?" He asked about the wound.
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Post by Heather Glass - VerMillion on Jan 9, 2013 17:57:26 GMT -5
When she reaches the bottom of the ladder, VerMillion sighs heavily in relief. She has neither the strength nor agility to make it down the ladder without using her injured leg, and even taking as much weight as she can with her other legs it hurts a lot. Once there she steps aside to stay out of Jon's way, smiling to herself because she didn't fail to notice how long it took for him to start his own descent...
And the expression doesn't fade as he awkwardly tries to express himself while he helps her the rest of the way. It's still awkward and slow going trying to use him as a crutch, but it's better than having to put all her weight on her leg. "It's fine," she responds simply when he comments on the place, "Still better than that cell..." Well, in some ways possibly not, but it is in the ways that count most to her.
Especially being able to be with Jon again - she missed him. Perhaps not as much as Heather, but she feels a definite tie to him nevertheless. "I know..." she comments to his next statement. That was always something that Heather liked so much about him - he kept her safe. Didn't do a particularly good job of that when the Penguin attacked, but then again what could he have done? VerMillion feels no need to feel safe, though she appreciates the sentiment. And she knows that he didn't mind coming to get her because if he had then he wouldn't have done it.
When they reach the place she looks around, seeing the strange mix of familiar and unfamiliar. She'd gotten used to the way Jon 'decorates' while she was living with him before so the place already seems almost like home to her even though the location couldn't be any more different. She's not concerned about the hygiene of the place as she settles herself on the table that he takes her to - she's barely able to have any concerns about anything as it is.
Actually, she doesn't even think to question why he's taken her to a table when what he said before made it sound like he was more concerned for her mental health rather than her leg, but between her lack of fear and level of trust in him she's quick to assume that whatever he asks of her is probably the correct thing to do. But though the question he asks is confusing at first, she's fairly quick to figure out what he meant. "The bullets? Yeah - two shots plus four bullet holes equals no bullets," she replies.
Her pants are a mess, but the blood on them is old - the stains are only from what leaked from the wound between when she was shot and when the Penguin ordered her wounds to be cared for. Which was quite a bit of blood, but there hasn't been any since. Her wounds had been bandaged then to stop the bleeding but had received no other care, though she'd removed the bandages herself once the wounds were fully closed. Now they're four very angry looking scars - two on the top part of her right thigh and two on the bottom where the bullets had entered and left her leg - but though on the surface it looks like they're practically healed the internal damage is worse than what you see on the surface. Though VerMillion isn't so much concerned about the actual damage as she is about the fact that it still hurts a lot when she tries to use it. It isn't so bad when she's resting like she is now though.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Jan 10, 2013 9:02:18 GMT -5
Dr. Crane began to lay out his tools as she talked about her wounds. If she said that they were through and through shots then they probably were and he could count on that, though he would take a second look himself. It was good that they were clean shots with what seemed like no breaks. The recovery time would be much shorter as a result and from what she had said it seemed the body healed mostly on its own already. The body was a good healer but it wasn’t as good as it could be with proper medical care. The main problem here would be infection and that could be the main cause of her limping aside from the weak tissue itself.
He could hear her clearly now and since she spoke nothing of it he figured she never realized that he hadn’t heard most of what she said in the car. Dr. Crane knew he was a recluse from the world and conversation, seeing little point in it with the lesser intelligent or those that simply refused to see the truth. VerMillion was different however; there was some part of him that wanted her to understand, because she was exempt from all of these rules.
Once he had gotten tools of all size out of the bag he lifted back up to meet her eyes. VerMillion had settled on the table but as he looked her over he discovered a problem. “I’m going to need you to remove those.” He kept his voice steady. It wasn’t the first time he had asked a patient to remove their clothing for injury, but it was the first time he had asked her. Easily justified, her jeans were simply too tight for him to lift from the bottom and work there, he would risk more injury. Dr. Crane shook off any awkwardness of the situation and buried himself quickly in his medical mode.
Dr. Crane stepped away from the table so she could do just that and kept his gaze on his tools. He began sanitizing them the best he could in an environment like this. He couldn’t promise anything was sterile because it most likely wasn’t. His thoughts turned inward as he waited for her to get what she needed to done. First, he was going to clean the wound and then make sure everything was through and through. Second, he was going to check for any damaged tissue and infection. Last, he would brace and bandage and she would be better within the next week. Possibly even be able to stand on it in a few days with full pressure.
Still the thought of her split personalities came into mind even as he prepared to work. It was far to fascinating of a psychological issue. A craving came from deep within that began rushing his theories through his mind, wanting to conduct all kinds of tests for these, but it would have to come later. Dr. Crane could be patient, no matter how much his mind drove him to ask that one burning question to the world. He shook off the thought for the moment, but it was never far from his mind.
The doctor began preparing a syringe as he turned back to the table; idly he thought to explain how things worked down here. “We are not alone down here and the sewers are shared by many. But you are safe here; no one will come this way.” That he was sure of with what he had in the room near them. “We have company but I would rather you not go over there. It’s just best if you stay on this side of the partial tunnel and try to forget anything you hear.” Dr. Crane finished as he finally looked back to her.
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Post by Heather Glass - VerMillion on Jan 10, 2013 17:43:25 GMT -5
"'Kay," VerMillion responds simply to his request, completely unbothered. Awkwardness is the fear that you already have, are currently, or are about to do something socially unacceptable; embarrassment is the fear that you're being judged by others; and shyness is the fear of failure in social matters. She therefore never feels any such emotions, more often feeling confident in such situations unless those normally feared things actually happen and then feeling either anger or sadness if they do and it actually bothers her.
Not wanting to get up, she simply unfastens them and uses her good leg to lift her hips from the table when she needs to, taking her time as she slides them off of her injured thigh - the fabric is stiffer there because of the dried blood, and though her leg doesn't hurt much by simply touching the surface, her jeans are tight enough to jar the injured area if she isn't careful. Tight jeans are cool, after all, especially if you're as thin as she is. She sets them haphazardly to one side, not caring about them anymore. They used to be a favorite pair, but between the bullet holes and the blood... and Heather will probably be having lingering bad memories from them even if she doesn't.
Having done that, she waits for Jon to finish doing whatever it is that he's doing, completely unphased by the syringe in his hand when he turns back to her. Instead her attention is on his words, though she doesn't seem at all concerned by them. "All right," she says with a shrug, as that sounds simple enough. If he wants her to ignore whatever is over there that's she figures that he probably has a good reason for it and she's not the personality that would worry herself about it. Jon always was a bit mysterious about his projects.
Though it's then that her expression suddenly brightens a little and her eyes stop focusing on anything in particular as she says, "Oh, good, you're done screaming. Jon's rescued us. And now we're in this underground lab place..." There's a momentary pause, and then she frowns and adds, "Sheesh, calm down - yeah, we're out of the hellhole." Another short pause, and she says, "Because he told me to. He's gonna look at our leg."
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Jan 14, 2013 16:53:56 GMT -5
Once Dr. Crane was in his medical mode it would be difficult to bring him out of it unless something drastic was to happen. The fact that he knew she was partially undressing behind him didn’t bother him anymore than that rather than it wasn’t often he had partially naked patients that he had seen more than once. Not that he had any emotional attachment to her, of course not… The syringe was prepped and he pushed the bottom of it to release any air from the bottom. Once it was ready he turned back around just in time to see VerMillion begin talking to herself yet again.
The syringe was filled with a simple antibiotic, it was going to help with anything that may have festered and grown around or in the wounds that had partially mended on their own. It wasn’t anything that could help the situation she had going on in her mind however. That was another problem entirely, and Dr. Crane wasn’t sure if it was going to be beneficial or a liability to him. It was probably going to be both and he would have to come up with w away to use both sides of it. But he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to study her this way. What a glorious finding could happen if her fears were separate? Was the brave toxin still in full effect or did the synapse of her mind simply fail? A hundred medical conditions easily jumped to mind but he had to brush it off for the moment, there was work to be done.
So VerMillion…No Heather was screaming in her head the entire time? What a feeling of fear that must have brought in. A confusion to where you can’t even decipher your thoughts from another’s. It was all speculation but it could be slowly worked on to determine what was going on. They seemed to be talking to each other, about what he could only guess considering she was half naked on the table.
Dr. Crane brought himself up to the table, sliding a small stool around and to the side of her so he could sit. The height wasn’t exactly what he wanted, being much taller in the legs than the chest but he had to make due. Carefully he began to inspect her leg. His eyes scanned over every bruise that recently healed and every open wound that still remained. The bullet holes had long since covered themselves, though tissue damage was apparent. There was nothing he could do for that except make sure that the infection was fought. The doctor took a heavy sigh at the damage, having it been more than what he had wanted it to be and turned to grab some rubbing alcohol and a questionably clean cloth. Dr. Crane poured some alcohol onto the cloth and began rubbing it over the area’s he believed to be infected on the front and back of her leg. When he was satisfied he wiped off a small portion of skin near her knee and administered the antibiotic.
He was silent until the needle was pulled from her skin and set aside. Normally he wouldn’t even think about usuing the same needle twice, but in this particular case he was running out of options. She could probably see that he hadn’t moved up very much from where he was last time, but he was going to get back there. Dr. Crane could accommodate to any living condition. Now that she was all taken care of he sat straight on the stool and looked at her. “You can sit up now. Come here, I want to have a look at your eyes.” He reached his hands forward and attempted to touch the side of her face, staring into her iris. Of course simply looking into her eyes wouldn’t let him see what he wanted, even though they truly were the window to the truth. “You can talk to…” he paused and tried to remember who was who. “Heather as freely as you wish? Is Heather gone?” He asked while pulling the skin around her eyes and a few directions just trying to see what he could in dilation without too much light.
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