Gotham's New Bird | T. Drake

Chapter 27

Chapter 27

Fuck.

Robyn's stomach jumped into her throat.

Scarecrow was standing before her, on the platter was multiple syringes filled with some green substance. Next to those was a plate of food and a glass of water.

"I'm sorry you're going to do this in such nice attire," he leered, not reallly meaning anything he said, "I didn't have anything that would fit you. Or anything at all." He chuckled. He set the platter on the table by the door.

"Let's start of with some questions first," Scarecrow said and pulled a chair from the table, swinging it around in front of him and sitting in it backwards. Robyn glared at him.

"Do you know how you got here?" He asked. Robyn stared daggers. "I drugged you. Slipped some of the toxin into a glass of champagne while you were with the Waynes, dear. Remember the guy you bumped into?" Robyn recalled what he said. Now that she thought of it, she did remember accidentally shouldering into someone and almost spilling her sparkly drink. Hastily, she apologized and brushed it off, pushed it to the back of her mind, and forgot about the incident soon after.

"But why me?" Robyn asked, her voice raw.

"Because, honey, I am, for one, testing and figuring out what fear does to people. And secondly, a henchman of mine seems very interested in you. He said you two were very good friends when you were growing up." Robyn's face paled. She looked at the floor.

"Now, next question: how tolerable to pain do you think you are?" She replied with silence. Scarecrow clicked his tongue and produced a small notepad and pen from his ratty labcoat pocket. He scribbled something down.

"Not that it matters much anyway," he muttered just low enough for Robyn to hear. "Can you describe what you saw while under the influence of my fear toxin?"

Robyn was stumped. She dug in the deep depths of her memory, but all she could remember was holding Tim's hand, and then, nothing. Robyn shook her head in defeat.

"I don't remember," she whispered trying to spit hate.

"C'mon, dear," he crooned and tapped her head with his pen, "Dig a little deeper, try a little harder." His hand grabbed her jaw and forced her to look into his beady eyes. She squeezed her eyes shut and opened her mind.

"Uh, I saw, uhm, shapes -- they're blurry --," Robyn stammered, trying to describe what she saw, "and, uh, colors, lots of them, but at the same time, it's dark. Really dark."

"Is that all, dear?" Scarecrow asked. Robyn nodded hesitantly. She saw something flare up in his eyes. As soon as it was there, it was gone. He unknotted the nylon ropes that bound Robyn's hands to the chair.

"Eat up," was all he said before he slammed the metal door. The tray of food was on the table. She stared at it. Despite the hunger gnawing away in her stomach, she had no appetite.

Robyn untied her ankles and went to the door and turned the knob. Locked, just as she'd suspected. She sighed and looked at the food. The sandwich and fruit didn't look too bad, not that she thought about it.... She quickly finished her food and drank her water.

Then she sat.

And sat.

Robyn quickly became bored. She decided to sit back down in her chair and entertain her thoughts with Tim, trying to remember his looks and his quirks.

Tim's shaggy hair parted down the middle; some locks too short to fit behind his ears would fall in his face. It was black with an undertone of blue, it seemed, when the light hit it just right. His eyes were almond-shaped, and when he genuinely smiled or laughed, his eyes would almost squint closed. His irises were a wonder to look at. They were blue, but not bright. It was more of a pale, steely color, with a hint of green around the outside. And his mouth... she could go on about his mouth for ages. Light pink lips covered the most strikingly beautiful smile she'd ever seen. She wanted to kiss them all day long.

Tim's fashion sense was astounding; he always dressed to impress. And impress he did. He practically had his own group of fangirls that would die for him any day.

And he always smelled like cinnamon and fabric softener, with the occasional hint of coffee. His voice sounded like how he smelled: sharp and straight to the point and full of wisdom. That was the cinnamon. And at the same time, soft, smooth, and sweet. Like he cared for everyone and everything; this was the fabric softener part. His touch was light, too, like nearly everything was fragile, like Tim had super strength and everything could break if he touched something too hard. His fingers were like his footsteps: carefully and strategically placed.

The sound of the metal door banging open scared Robyn out of her wits. She shrieked and covered her ears. Gerimone and another man, smaller, but just as muscular, strode into the room. Robyn felt the blood drain from her face and her hands begin to sweat.

"No," she growled, the men approaching her. "No!" They grabbed her and lifted her from the chair after hooding her. She fought and clawed and screamed, but their steel grips on her arms were unbreakable. "No! No! No! Stop! No!" The pair dragged her through the door and into a musky hallway. Robyn screamed when she felt herself being lifted and set onto some sort of table. She thrashed around when she felt her ankles and wrists being restrained once again. Her voice was hoarse, worse than before.

Eventually, she stopped screaming and pulling against the restraints and let her head fall back ahainst the cool metal table. The hood was torn off -- some hair with it -- and bright flourescent lights beamed into her eyes. Robyn blinked and squinted until her eyes adjusted. She saw Gerimone and the other man guarding the door to the brightly lit room on one side of her. On the other side, Scarecrow, in his white labcoat.

He lifted a syringe. "Now, let's get started, shall we?"

Ξ

Looool i have been putting this off for 5 months sorry ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Uh summer break has started so maybe i will update more

I haven't been very Motivated™ lately sorry

Anyway

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