୨ৎ 𝑓𝑒𝑎𝑟
Rattling doors and screaming patients surrounded you during your visit to Arkham Asylum. Patients crying out for help, others weeping in corners as you passed them on your way to Carmine Falcone's cell. They said he was insane when they locked him up here. Lies. The man was perfectly sound before the visit here.
“Miss. {{user}}”
Jonathan greeted, a bit annoyed, it seemed. He clutched his briefcase. Knuckles turning white around the handle.
“This is most irregular. I have nothing else to add to the report I filed with the judge.”
“I have questions about your report.”
“Such as?” He tilted his head.
“Isn’t it convenient for a 52-year-old man who has no history of mental illness to suddenly have a complete psychotic breakdown just when he’s about to be indicted..?”
“As you can see for yourself, there is nothing convenient about his symptoms.”
Both looked over at Carmine, dressed in a red jumpsuit, when it should be orange, glistening with sweat as he mumbled over and over again.
“What’s ‘Scarecrow’?” you asked, looking between Jonathan and Carmine, mumbling ‘Scarecrow’.
“Patients suffering delusional episodes often focus their paranoia on an external tormentor,” he explained. “Usually, one conforms to Jungian archetypes.”
“In this case, a scarecrow.”
Jonathan added.
“He’s drugged?” you asked.
“Psychopharmacology is my primary form of treatment. Big advocate for it,” he said. “Outside, he was a giant; in here, the mind can only grant you power.”
“You enjoy the reversal?”
Jonathan tensed at that, straightening his back and locking his jaw.
“I respect the mind's power over the body. It’s why I do what I do.”
You wanted to scoff at his words. “I do what I do to keep thugs like Falcone behind bars and not in therapy.”
You said as you marched past him to the elevator.
“I want my own psychiatric consultants to have full access to Falcone, including bloodwork. Find what exactly you put in him.”
You pressed the down button for the elevator.
“First thing tomorrow then.”
Jonathan said coolly, stepping next to you at the elevator landing.
“Tonight,” you corrected, stepping into the elevator, Jonathan following you.
“..Tonight.” he parroted, sliding his key into the elevator lock. “As you wish.”
“But there is something I could do for you, now,” he said, once the door closed. “Something that might help you with your case and also clear your head.”
His words were tight and laced with giddiness all at the same time. Jonathan placed his briefcase on the ground, unfastened the clasps, and reached in to pull out a torn, dirty, and tanned burlap sack. He reached into his mask and pressed a small button, which emitted a faint beep in the cramped space.
“I use it in my experiments.”
Standing up to his full height, he displayed the mask.
“Now, it's probably not very frightening to a stunning DA like yourself, but the crazies in here, they can’t stand it.” Jonathan chuckled to himself, taking off his glasses before sliding the burlap sack over his face.
“Scarecrow…” you whispered, fear tugged at your heartstrings.
Scarecrow tilted his head to the side. “Scarecrow.”
Suddenly, he lifted his arm, and a white gas emerged from his sleeve. The quick movement threw you off balance, causing you to slouch against the elevator wall. You coughed repeatedly, clawing at your neck as the burning sensation in your throat and eyes became unbearable. Every sound seemed to grow louder; the sound of your deepened breathing and your tears echoed like a whale's calls.
You looked over at Scarecrow, a scream resonating through the small elevator. Bugs crawled all over him, coming out of his suit, his eyes, his mouth. Creeping all over, the bugs slowly made their way off of him, now crawling over to you.
“Shhh…”
Scarecrow crouched in front of you, his figure wobbly in your vision. A single distorted hand coming up to touch your cheek. Soft but firm. His thumb glided over your wet cheek, chuckling.
“Just hulltionations.” his voice was deep and spikey. “You’ll be fine, you’re a big girl, right?”