The Skin That Crawls From You [A Jonathan Crane Fan-fiction]

'Shoot Me.'

Raven Alcott:

Today is different. It feels like it's been days (despite losing all sense of time due to living in complete darkness 24/7) since the joker has visited me. It feels like years. Good, happy years.

I wait anxiously, trying to calm my tensed lungs which refuse to pump enough oxygen into my cells- as if they were trying to put me out of my misery. How kind of them. The joker would find a way to bring me back of course, and then punish me for dying.

If I'm dead, how will he take revenge on Crane for his misdoings within Arkham? The joker told me everything about Crane's experiments, as if I hadn't known. Jonathon had taken it easy on me compared to how he treated my captor. A part of me doesn't blame the joker for his hatred of Jonathon. I feel it too. If it hadn't been for him, I wouldn't be in this situation. If only he were are cold and unfeeling as he had made himself out to be. Silly doctor; feelings are your ultimate weakness as a criminal in Gotham. Now look what you've done. Damaged a perfectly useful weapon. If only that were all I had been to him.

The stale darkness creeks open and a masculine form enters, his body silhouetted in the door's light. A tall man walks over and sets down a tray. He reaches into his pocket to get the keys for the dog sized door of my cage, but instead, in the dim light; he pulls a gun. I tense and back myself into the corner of my cage.

"I have orders."
A deep voice bellows.

"Get out now."

I don't move.

"Get out now or I shoot."
He booms.

Fucking shoot me.

I don't move.

"Oh fuck."
He says, he looks back for a moment and then stands; toting his gun into either a holster or a pocket. It's hard to see in the dark.

He approaches my cage and lifts it slightly. He then shakes me out of it as if I were a scared cat. I slam into the bars at the front.

"Get out!"
He commands, setting it down.

I creep towards the exit carefully and go to stand. However long I've been inside of this cage has made my legs weak. I try to stand, but stumble; grabbing onto the cage in the dark. The silhouette of the man approaches me and loops an arm under my armpit. His touch sends a spiral of fear through my entire body and I go limp- attempting to slip from his arms and escape him. He doesn't budge, he simply holds me up.

"Walk with me and don't make a sound."
He presses the barrel of a handgun into my lower back.

The police must've found the joker's hideout. The joker's henchmen must be trying to smuggle me to the next location.

I start to walk and decide to push my fingers over his bare hand. Contact, just in case.