Crane, Crane

The Last Thing

He looked incredibly lanky in the bright orange jumpsuit which hung around his body like a sack. Emaciated and exhausted, certainly, he resembled nothing other than (and would he have laughed) a scarecrow. That ridiculous moniker he'd gone under and that damned mask. Crane really had lost his mind. And as much as I wanted to see the man rot in prison for the rest of his life, a part of me felt for him. Not sympathy, but pity.

He was roughed up. Hair dull. His skin white and red, bruises. His eyes blank and emotionless, cast upon the metal cuffs around his wrists. Inside had been tough on him, I'm sure. Maybe learned a lesson.

He'd done his time, but...he deserved a little bit more. I mean, the man tried to drown us in freezing water for God's sake. Now were they just gonna let him walk the streets again?

After all the chaos and pandemonium, Gotham was adjusting to normal. Hell, what did this city know about normal? This was the last thing we needed.

The board would come to their senses. They wouldn't throw a corrupt criminal back into the mix. That was the last thing we needed.

Wrapped in thought as he approached the table, I realized that I'd been glaring at him. He barely met my stare as the prison guard uncuffed him and seated him across from me. There was the soft, faint hum of the fluorescent lights that hung above us.

Aside from the stout guard, we were the only two in the day room. He shifted in his seat a few times as we sat there wordlessly. The silence grew tense and heavy. I was sure he sensed it too when he cleared his throat.

"Commission-"

"Crane, these people aren't stupid enough to let you out of here. And if they are, I'm not. If you dare try anything- anything, you can bet you'll be in a cell until the day you die."

Without another word, I stood up and exited. The very last thing.