"So... peculiar," a languid voice drawled while the familiar cold touch of an oxygen mask latched onto your jaw, nimble fingers skillfully tucking the straps behind your ears, successfully securing the mask on with little protest. A thick, murky cloud of formula pervaded the mask within seconds, seeping past your lips and into your lungs bitterly.

Crane had first planned to utilize you like a mere lab rat, just another human subject that would end up in Gotham River by the end of the month -- but a few tests told him something new; you, you were special. Not a drop, syringe, or breath of toxin worked on you. You had become the subject of his interest over the past few weeks.

"Not a single symptom, hm?" His gaze flicked over to the laboratory monitors, which evaluated your vitals, and sure enough, your heart continued to thrum at a regular pace.

"Perhaps the anomaly lies within brain," Crane mused out loud, flicking a supple finger against the stomach of a syringe, which held a bubbly purple liquid. He lolled his head to look down at you, fixated to a metal medical table, with leather restraints snaked tightly around your wrists and ankles. A hospital gown provided futile protection against the crisp table beneath.

"What do you think, little bird? Shall I take a peak inside and see?" A lopsided grin tugged on his sewn face, knowing full well you couldn't reply at the moment. He lowered the syringe at a deliberate pace towards the crease in your arm, milking any reaction he could rouse from you.