Awaiting Purpose [Crane]

[Selina Kyle - Catwoman]

This time she would be prepared. Or she would try to be. It was a different location, evidently, as the last apartment had been...'redecorated.' And poorly at that, considering it had been condemned. She had a half a mind to what truly happened, and it had not a damn thing to do with an interior decorator.

But that was not where this all started. It had been a rather quiet night at the Iceberg, and she had been in a booth, alone, watching whoever was singing on stage. She had barely been a third of the way through her drink when another had been brought to her, along with a few extra napkins. Nodding to the waiter, Selina had given the briefest nod to say she would accept the drink. She'd finish her first one at her leisure, and then move to the next one. There would be no rushing in her alcohol consumption this evening. It was rare enough she didn't have some sort of second string wannabe villain coming up to her. So as she savored her drink, she would relish the quiet evening out.

And then, and only then would she replace her empty glass with the fresh one, plucking the napkin with the note upon it, and look at it. A phone number. How coy. Fishing her phone from her purse of the evening, she thumbed the numbers onto the screen, pressed one extra button, and let the call resume. It was an answering service, the woman on the other end a heavy smoker, and leaving an address, a time, and additional details for her, asking her once if she needed them repeated. Politely she stated yes, just to double check the information she had scrawled on another napkin with a found pen.

She'd honestly had more peculiar ways she'd been hired for a job. This person was being more than secure in garnering her skill.

And so it went, her own cursory research showing it was an avant garde highrise in North Gotham where she would be headed. A bit more asking around was able to get her the source of the owner. A name that made little sense to anyone but a few people on this planet. A dumb anagram that clearly pointed the owner of the property as being one Edward Nygma. And as he wasn't seen at this apartment currently, that only meant one thing. Or at least one thing that she could tie to it.

Crane was there.

She'd be avoiding the elevator this time.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane stared into the mirror. Something was staring back at him, along with his reflection. The doctor made it a point to often avoid his gaze with the mirror. He was already beginning to sweat.. This wasn’t going to be difficult, just grab the syringe and put it in. His reflection was staring back at him much more hallowed than the other side. Was he afraid? He looked away from the mirror and down at the syringe. No, that wasn’t the reason. It never would be.

He took the syringe in his hand and swallowed the lump that formed in his throat. It wasn’t going to be that bad. He could handle it. If it were anyone else a doctor would have told them that there was a great possibility that this would go badly and end in a high risk of going into cardiac arrest. He angled the needle and put it to his wrist. It was never difficult for him to find a vein. Without another thought he pushed it in and immediately pushed the top down.

The moment it shot through his blood stream he ripped the needle out and threw it across the small bathroom. He held the bottom of his elbow with his other hand and tried to steady it as it shook. He could feel every nerve inside pinching and the pain was becoming more and more intense. Dr. Crane stumbled back and hit the wall hard. Like a rock, he dropped down to the tile floor and tried his best not to become a mangled mess. His breaths were heavy and short, now only able to get them through his teeth as they were tightly gripped in pain.

CRACK!

His shoe rammed into the bottom of the porcelain toilet and spread a crack straight down the side of it. He called out in pain, cursing into the air nothing that sounded like English. Miss Glass wasn’t far. She came rushing in and began to panic. He struggled on the bathroom floor just to stay in one sound mind. He never thought he’d feel such incredible internal pain. Miss Glass didn’t know what to do. She kept stepping around him and asking him questions he couldn’t take in enough breath to answer. He didn’t want her to do anything, there wasn’t anything she could do. But he could barely bring himself to think about anything but the pain threatening to consume him.

Between a short breath he heard a knock at the door. It set off one of his camera alarms in the adjacent room. It made a loud computerized beep that only chirped twice before turning off. Miss Glass was making things harder, he just needed to be alone. “Answer the door!” He shouted at her. If only to get her away from him so he could take care of this. His back arched and he groaned. What was happening? Was it working?

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

Having been with Jon as long as she has, there's a great many normally alarming sounds that Heather has come to accept as a matter of course. There's also a great many sounds that she doesn't think that she'll ever get used to, no matter how usual they are for her to hear. But the sound of a syringe being tossed isn't enough to draw much of her attention. The knock on the wall does, but that's mostly because she knows for a fact that Jon doesn't have a patient today. Still, it's only enough to catch her attention and make her wonder if she should go check on him. It isn't until there's the much louder sound of something breaking that she immediately forgets about what she's doing and follows Jon's cries to their source.

"Jon?!?" she asks, clearly alarmed, "What happened? What should I do?" She has no idea what he's been doing so she couldn't even begin to guess at what's going on, let alone come up with what she should do about it. But after a few moments she begins to realize that perhaps Jon is not merely choosing not to respond - something he does more often than not - but actually may not be able to. And that thought is more than enough to cause her to panic. Jon could be dying right now and she doesn't know what to do!

So she does what she always does in these situations - she forgets to breathe. Fortunately, just as Heather is beginning to see stars and VerMillion is preparing to prevent the upcoming blackout, Jon manages to jar her out of it by not only saying something but giving her something to do. But the door? Such had been her distress that she didn't even notice that the alarm on the door had gone off. But Jon wants her to answer it at a time like this? No, wait, perhaps he was expecting someone - maybe even someone who can help with this? They weren't expecting company as far as she knows, but then again Jon doesn't tell her anything. Besides, why would Jon in this state bother to tell her to do something if it weren't very important for her to do it?

Literally running out of the bathroom and to the front door, she jerks the door open. And she certainly wasn't expecting to see the woman on the other side of it. Not that she had anyone in particular in mind to see, but it's not anyone who come to visit Jon before - not that she knows of, anyway. "Who are you?" she blurts out first, but doesn't wait for a response before she adds in a rush, "Something's wrong with Jon and I don't know what to do." While she has no idea whether her earlier guess that Jon knows it's someone who could help is right, at this point she suspects that pretty much anyone would be of better use in this situation than herself. She's barely holding it together, and that's quite obvious given the degree to which she's hyperventilating.

Other than that and her extremely freaked out expression, in spite of all the rumors to the contrary she appears to be in one piece. In fact, Jon's fortunes lately have been such that she's had the time and ability to restore her appearance to what is, for her, the 'usual'. The brightness of her hair indicates a fresh dye job from what was probably not the cheapest bottle. She's wearing a graphic t-shirt from some currently trendy rock band, and her jeans are a pair of those low-rise, faded, and slightly ripped affairs with the rhinestones on the back pockets. And chucks - she almost always wears chucks.

[Selina Kyle - Catwoman]

The car she'd driven herself. Instead of a decent dress, she'd worn jeans, and a sweater. Oversized and in a deep charcoal grey. It was chilly enough she'd opted for a jacket. And her purse. And gloves. Closing her eyes before she knocked, she slightly shook her head, the words from Pam even echo'ing through her head. No doubt it would be Crane plus one. Another variable she hadn't wanted to include in this little visit. But then again, he had gone through so much trouble to get the message to her. Even though he was one of the few that did have her number.

While waiting she wasn't shocked to hear the clamoring on the other side before the door was thrown open by the petite redhead. Or bottle-red, as the hue was quite alarmingly vibrant. Raising a brow at the question, she walks beyond the girl into the 'house' and calmly takes her coat off. At least it isn't a saucer of cream this time. It's a frantic, freaked out manic-pixie dreamgirl, and Jonathan indulging in whatever he's been doing in the name of research this time. Slipping off her coat, she holds it out to the girl.

"Where is he?" Nonplussed, she pushes some hair over her shoulder, glancing around. Crane is clearly not sitting, waiting with a cup of coffee.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

It wouldn’t have been difficult to tell where the doctor was. Half screams that were coming from the bathroom that only stopped when they turned into the choking groans of the doctor trying to breathe. Miss Glass had become a distant memory in his mind since she’d last left the bathroom. There was far too much going on to keep his thoughts straight. The doctor was a mangled mess on the floor that was thrashing and kicking about. The pain shooting from his arm had now shot through his entire body and he felt it threatened to send him into cardiac arrest.

As he moved about on the floor he felt a pressure in his chest that continued to increase. He didn’t know if it was the beginning of his body failing to control what was going on, or something much deeper within his bloodstream threatening to come out. He wanted it…Either of them would be possibly affective for what he wanted in the end. He wasn’t afraid of death, it was an impossibility for him.

It was much more likely that the serum was affecting the Scarebeast. This was what he wanted, he just had to endure it. With his hands shaking and his chest threatening to give way to where the chemicals wanted to take him he managed to slip his hand into his jacket pocket. He wrestled out another syringe but his hands were shaking far too badly to uncap it. The syringe slipped from his hands and clattered to the floor.

If he could have spoken more than the occasional groan or scream he would have cursed. It was only then that Miss Glass came back into his mind. He could use her to give him the shot. She had seen him do it before and he was certain the she could do it herself with little coaching. She would have to go completely without coaching. The doctor wanted to do it without her, but at this rate he was running out of options. Instead of trying to shout for her attention he kicked the wall with his left foot hard.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

Such is Heather's distress that she doesn't react at all when the woman holds out her coat. It's as if the movement is foreign to her and she doesn't recognize the implied request. Instead she stands there, staring at the woman dumbly as if nothing the stranger is doing makes any sense to her at all. Which is partially true - the sounds coming from Jon are clearly quite alarming and yet the woman doesn't appear to be very much alarmed at all.

It isn't until the question is asked that she makes any sort of movement at all. And that is to wordlessly run to the bathroom, not giving the woman any indication that she is to follow or making any attempt to be sure that she will. Instead she simply goes to Jon - which is exactly where she wants to be anyway. No matter what's going on or how horrifying it may be to her, she wants to know what's happening to Jon even if she can do nothing but watch.

She reaches him about the same time that he kicks the wall. "Jon?!?" she asks, no sooner having said his name she is drawn back into the same level of panic she was in before Jon told her to get the door - the one where she completely forgets to breathe. She fails to notice that a new syringe seems to have appeared on the floor next to Jon, seeing only him and the condition he's in.

[Selina Kyle - Catwoman]

She sighs. Honestly, Pam was right. Very right. And whatever dynamic is going on between Heather and Jonathan, at the very least, she seems to care about him. Even if he seems to see her as more of a test subject than actual paramour. As the girl stares at her blankly, Selina states nothing, does nothing until the screams and commotion seem to rock the girl from her stupor and she scrambles off. And that's rather what it's like. Almost a trained animal-maybe a dog? That is summoned. The few words the former DJ did squeak out were of alarm. And confusion-that much was very evident.

Closing the door and locking it behind her, Selina moves to drape her jacket over the nearest chair. pulling her hair up and into a bun, it's secured with a dark elastic band. Not quite dawdling, she's moving at a dedicated pace, barely shocked when the noise of something colliding with the wall happens. Rubbing her temple she's quick to fish her phone from her pocket, sending a rather blunt text: "Your boyfriend is having issues." And then it's shoved back into her jeans. A quick scan of the room she's in seems to show nothing really amiss. Nothing that a thorough cleaning wouldn't fix. A bit of dusting and a quick run around with a vacuum.

Pacing the hall where Heather sprinted, she can see the water creeping into the hall. With every squishing step, she is fighting her instincts that are screaming at her to leave. Turn around, and just go. That unless this was a blatant trap, she needs to flee. Unable to quench the curiosity of her very namesake, she continues on, the scene in actuality more graphic than she probably could have wanted to imagine.

The normally bereft looking Doctor is not only beyond that point, but seems to be in some sort of bodily distress. Still at least five feet between her and Crane, she can see he's fighting something. Quite literally his own personal demons, while Heather hovers. She should back up before she's nailed by one of his flailing limbs. Another sigh, and she closes the gap to the point she can talk to the two of them, without getting hit. "Heather, my name is Selina. Has this happened to Jonathan before?" Green eyes flick to where Crane is ...fighting and convulsing in the growing puddle of water. "Is he experimenting on himself?" If the redhead can answer the questions, it would go quite a long way as to figure out just what steps next needed to be initiated. Considering how bad he's shaking, she's really, really tempted to use one of the several syringes she herself has strapped to her forearm. This time she came more than prepared, despite her calm, and more than collected demeanor. Crouching near the toilet, she is careful to avoid even bumping Crane as she reaches to wrench the water line shut. Looking back at Heather, she glances around the bathroom before calling out to her, "Go grab towels, please!" Not only will the distraction get her out of the room, but give her a chance to assess the situation properly. Narrowing her eyes at one of the agonizing grunts coming from Jonathan, she hopes to some higher being that she wasn't pulled here for her medical specialty. Because she has none.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

If he could have let go of his wrist without feeling like his entire body was going to explode he may have pointed to the syringe himself. Miss Glass had watched him inject himself and others a thousand times. He had confidence that she could do it. The fear in her eyes and panic in her voice was clear as he laid there just trying to get control of his own body. He much have looked pretty bad from this position but it actually felt twice as bad as it looked. Miss Glass was never one for stability, he was going to have to make it clearer for her somehow.

But before he could even try to think about how he was going to do that, in immense pain already, his neck and hair began to feel wet. There was a large amount of water that had begun to leak from the toilet that he’d cracked. It was just going to be one more thing to make this harder. Despite the condition, the cool water on his neck was at least a distraction from the pulses his body kept jumping into. He couldn’t feel it on his back but the doctor rarely ever felt anything there anyway.

Finally, the real distraction entered the doorway. The pain was so immense it was amazing he was actually able to cognitively remember who it was. Miss Kyle stood before him, saying something to Miss Glass that now came out as mumbled. He saw the world around him tilt and blur, threatening to take his consciousness. He squeezed tighter and fought it, trying not to lose focus. Things were going from bad to worse. If Miss Glass could just use the syringe he’d stabilize…Probably.

He couldn’t make out what they were saying but no one was reaching for the syringe. The cool on the back of his neck began to diminish as the water line was cut. It gave him a moment to scoot up with a push from his feet and spin the needle around next to him with his elbow. He wanted Miss Glass to do it. He’d never seen the feline give a shot to anything and he wasn’t about to experiment with that tonight. His was shaking on his arm, he couldn’t take it anymore.

The doctor let go which caused his jaw to drop and another rush shoot through his body. His fingers curled over the syringe but he kept dropping it. Still determined to do it himself he kept trying.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

With her attention so much on Jon, Heather hardly reacts when the woman arrives behind her. At least not until she's spoken to - then she indicates that she's aware that there's someone besides Jon and herself in the room by looking at Selina. But that's only to cast a rather horrified and frightened expression her way - clearly she's not much for conversation at the moment. Then again, either this situation is new and unusual or she freaks out this badly about everything. Of course, Selina wouldn't know how she is normally, and the truth is probably somewhere in between those two possibilities. Still, the expression alone is enough to communicate that the answers to her questions are most likely no and yes, respectively.

Quick to turn her attention back to Jon, she hears but is quick to ignore the request for towels. What would that really do besides unnecessarily put her in a position to not be able to see for herself what's going on with Jon? Yes, they'll eventually need towels to clean up the water, but it's definitely not an immediate necessity. She'd like to find out if Jon's going to die before she worries about a puddle, even if it's a big one. Then again, she's also completely blind to just how badly she's doing herself in this situation. All she cares about is how Jon is doing.

Which is probably why she's so quick to notice that he seems to want a syringe that's on the floor. This finally prompts her into some real action - she's quick to step over to the syringe and pick it up. Will this help Jon? Given how hard Jon was trying to get it, she can only assume yes. She's never used one before, but it's true that she's seen Jon use one a very large number of times. It doesn't seem like it would be that difficult.

But as she looks at it, she can see that it's shaking - because her hands are shaking. Not as badly as Jon's and for an entirely different reason, but she's pretty sure she shouldn't be trying to stick someone with a needle right now. But, desperate to help Jon now that she has what is likely the solution in her hands, she suddenly figures out how to do what she needs to do. "VerM..."

---

Even before she can get the entire name out, she suddenly takes a gasping breath her whole manner changes entirely. Abruptly she's looking at the syringe with nothing more than idle curiosity, completely calm as if nothing of any concern whatsoever is happening. But she doesn't inspect it for more than a second or two before she looks instead at Jon, and now her expression is one of mild irritation. Still, she steps right up to Jon with no hesitation in spite of his movements, grabs his arm, and injects him with it with all the confidence of someone who has done so in this exact situation a thousand times. Of course she hardly has that level of skill, and Jon will no doubt get a nasty bruise in that location, but that's the least of Jon's worries right now.

When she's done she discards the syringe by dropping it carelessly on the floor, straightens, then looks over at Selina - glancing her over as if seeing her for the first time and saying, "Hello. Selina, huh?" And, now that she's done with the syringe, she doesn't seem to be especially attentive towards what Jon is doing at all, except to glance down at him a moment later to see if there's any change. And even then she doesn't seem to be especially concerned about or bothered by the situation.

[Selina Kyle - Catwoman]

It never has to be easy. Ever. Never clear, concrete or singular with Jonathan. She should have known better. Pam had given her clear instructions on not only what Crane was doing, but what he was doing to the girl. It wasn't a lover, a friend, but more an...experiment of sorts. And she just couldn't get over how unsanitary the whole situation was. If he didn't overdose right then and there in front of her, he'd get some sort of necrotizing facitis and need to amputate.

Ah, well, it seemed that Heather, or VerMillion, or whatever had finally snapped together, or to...whatever. She wasn't in psychology for a reason, and really had no frame to ask questions. Either way, it seemed a bit of color was turning Jonathan back into a member of the living, rather than the other side. Deftly she pulled her sleeve primly over her wrist, and merely nodded in the redhead's direction. "I'm taking it he's experiment on himself again. And do you have towels?" She'd repeat each question clearly, her enunciation perfect. If Heather hadn't been able to understand, she wasn't going to take chances on this other side being able to understand either. Assumptions really, really never got anyone, anywhere. And she'd rather not be here with wet shoes.

It was such a pity that Jonathan was ...redecorating yet another one of Edward's homes. He had such a beautiful, classic style that was now being overhauled into East End chic. And not in the bidding war sort of way. More the ...had to, the toilet is leaking everywhere and people are beyond inebriated to call a plumber. And then when someone perhaps just maybe needed to use the facilities, they would just use the entire bathroom. And repeat, again and again, ad naseum. East End Chic, complete with aromatherapy.

If possible, she was going to keep one eye on ...Crane, as it seemed his convulsions were ceasing for the moment, and the woman....the interesting mix of both Heather as well as her radio personality, blase and fearless, seemed to inject Jonathan...with something. At least it would save her the hassle of using her own stash. Sad as it was, as unpredictable as she were, it was the Scarecrow who set her into overboard in her planning. This time she had not only made sure she had a beautiful arsenal of injectables 'just in case', but she was waiting on a phonecall. Or a text. Or a response of any sort.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

His hands were shaking far too badly to handle this. He had underestimated just how hard this was going to affect his ability to reverse it. Even if he'd got the needle in his skin he wouldn't have been able to find a vein with his hand shaking life this. He could have done it blindfolded, but not tremoring. But the last time he let go of the syringe he couldn't even pick it up again. Miss Glass had rushed to his side and grabbed it herself. Finally, it looked like something might happen. He grabbed his arm and tried to keep it still, with about as much success as he had trying to hold the syringe.

But for as shaken as Dr. Crane was, Miss glass was shaken herself, for a few moments. He watched the change happen. It was something he would have documented if he wasn't busy dealing with something else. A fascinating phenomenon from what was a very calculated on purpose miscalculation. Miss Glass had started to be able to switch between personalities in her psyche willfully. It wasn't so much the trigger of the situation as it was her calling it forth herself. But he couldn't think about that now, he could hardly think at all with the pain surging through him.

The needle went into his skin and he bit his lip hard, drawing blood. She had completely missed the first time but the second hit. She'd made a mess out of his skin for how many times she'd watched him, but it wasn't completely her fault with how badly he was shaking. But within a few moments of the substance in the syringe settling into his bloodstream he began to settle. Slowly, the shaking came down and rested with the occasional twitch. His breathing was hard at first but it too eventually came down and became deeper and longer with each pause. He had been lying there on the floor, about to go into cardiac arrest and one had no alarm to it and the other seemed to be preoccupied with cleaning the bathroom.

Keeping the area clean was the furthest thing from his mind. He didn't care that his back was wet or that the floor was steeped in water from the broken porcelain that he'd knocked off with a hard kick. It was the absolute last thing on his mind since the syringe went in him. Right now, he had work to do and he had to get up and get to it. For a moment when the drug was coursing through him, he thought he might change, which would have been the worst case. Miss Kyle wouldn't have had to worry about keeping the bathroom dry anymore, there wouldn't have been a bathroom and he was sure he'd have fallen through many floors.

With an unsteady breath the doctor tried to raise himself enough to sit against the wall. He really needed to get to his feet and into his lab room but he didn't have the strength at the moment. He looked up at Miss Kyle and sighed heavily. "Miss Kyle….It is not…Just an experiment." He spoke labored, not even realizing that his once empty hallowed sea blue eyes were now tined with a pale yellow. "Towels are in Miss Glass bathroom." He panted once more, using a lazy raise of his hand to point her in the right direction down the hall.

His hand dropped heavily and he closed his eyes, resting his head back against the wall. Getting up was going to be a chore in itself and right now his body demanded to stay there while water pooled around him. He didn't care whether the towels came or not.

[Heather Glass - VerMillion]

VerMillion is a little bit surprised by the situation herself. She's always been able to come out whenever she wants to - she doesn't want to a lot, though, especially lately. But though she's pretty sure that Heather appreciates all of the times that she's kept her from passing out, she doesn't remember Heather ever asking her to come out. Weird... In any event, now that she's out and now that she's injected Jon with whatever that stuff was, she's actually kind of bored right now.

And when she hears just how carefully the other woman in the room is speaking to her, her expression falls a bit. "Hey, just because Heather can't talk when she's freaking out doesn't mean that both of us didn't hear you the first time. You don't have to be patronizing. Also, your priorities are ridiculous," she comments, and she would say more, but that's when Jon seems to have recovered enough to speak up himself, actually answering the questions.

While he does so, she notices how Jon is attempting to shift his position, so she literally offers him a hand. Is she strong enough to move Jon around? No, of course not, but she's strong enough to help him move himself around. If he accepts the help, anyway - but then again she's not exactly afraid that it would be awkward if he left her offered hand alone. Either way, she doesn't then make any move to go retrieve the towels - Selina seems to be the only one here that thinks that they're necessary. VerMillion doesn't think there's any rush to get them, and if Jon disagreed then she's sure that he'd tell her.

[Selina Kyle - Catwoman]

With the bathroom still actively flooding, she states nothing. It seems that VerMillion clearly has the situation under control. And that Jonathan, well, he's fine now. Fine as in...not about to go into cardiac arrest, and his ...project worked.

Raising her brows and yet saying nothing, she politely smiles to VerMillion, inwardly praising the fact she chose art history to major in. While the duo go about getting Crane upright, Selina is able to get a foot on the lever to the waterline, effectively shutting it off.

While they may not care about torching Eddie's home, she does. It's sad in a way, that she seems to forget that not all of those on the opposite side of the law care about basic human functions. No doubt the room will be full of mold in a week, not that it seems either Jonathan, or his ...friend will seem to care.

Clearing her throat lightly Selina steps out of the way to allow the duo more room. "Well, Jonathan, it seems that the syringe helped? Thankfully?" It's not that she's being rude, it's just she honestly has no idea what she just walked in to. And the only real preparation she has had was Ivy letting her know Crane had a girlfriend. Even though she may have to disagree on that aspect, because clearly she's more of an experiment in Jonathan's eyes, and she's never seen the man more passionate about anything other than his work. Perhaps in his mind's eye, they are one and the same?