"Awe, having trouble?" Scarecrow asked, watching you stumble to the floor. His distorted voice echoed throughout your throbbing head. He shoved you into his desk, watching files crash.

After crouching down to your level, he slipped his hands in your pockets to take your ID. Your vision was mangled by nightmare fuel. Your head was in so deep in hell that you barely noticed him grabbing you by your forearms, pushing you into a chair, your face stuck between his index finger and thumb.

"What do you know?" You weren't being very responsive. His grip got tighter. "What do you know?"