Philophobia [Dr. Jonathan Crane]

Hematophobia

Hematophobia ~ Fead of Blood

Drip

Darcy felt something wet fall onto her forehead.

Drip

The darkness was all around her, blinding her.

Drip

She rolled over, under her she felt hard groumd.

Drip

She pressed her palms over her ears in annoyance.

Driiiip

"My sweet, sweet, Rosie," she shot up to a sitting position. A headach hit her like a boulder.

"Show yourself, Ghul."

Suddenly there was light.

Not bright, florescent. A small lightbulb hung from the ceiling.

He had his hands in his pockets, and a gleeful smirk on his face.

"I have missed your tongue, my flower."

"Te lo vas a perder aún más cuando empujo mi pie a lo largo de su-"

"Enough!"

He pulled his hand out his pocket and reached into his inner jacket one instead.

He pulled out two things.

One, a knife.

And two, a phone.

"I'm going to give you two options . . . and, whatever you choose will determine the physical well being of you, my dear. . ."
                         × × ×
"YOU LET HER BE TAKEN!" Crane screamed in anger. All the rogues stood at the same spot they had passed out at.

"Well, we were a little busy bein gased, scarecrow!" Harley defended.

"You abandoned her!"

"We didn't sign up for this!" Cat growled.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize being there for a friend is such a big deal to you criminals."

"Don't pretend you ain't one of us," Harley said, getting in Crane's face. "Cause we both know you would've left any other one of us."

"Alright, break it up," Deadshot said, pushing the two of them apart. "Doesn't matter what happened. What matter is that we fix it and go after her."

Crane clenched a fist against his head, trying to logically think.

"Where could he have taken her?" Riddler asked, worry etched all over his face.

"What do I do? What do I do," Crane whispered as he paced back and forth having a panic attack.

"We go get her," a deep voice said. Everyone turned to see Batman crouched on the top of the storage container, hidden by the darkness.

"No shit, Sherlock! Any idea how we do that?" Harley snapped.

Batman pulled out a small, phone-like device. "You don't think her and I didn't know this would happen? She's wearing a tracker . . . we have her exact location right now. So, whoever wants to help. We better go now. There's no time to waste."
                         × × ×
"I am a very patient man, Rosie. But you are trying my patience thin."

Darcy was now bound to a chair. A bruise was forming on her left eye, her lip was busted, and there were cuts along her arms.

"I'm dreadfully sorry about that. Must be a terrible inconvenience for you."

He sneered at her, reeling his hand back and backhanding her.

Her neck snapped to the side and she spat blood on the floor.

"Look at you! Weak! Making friends! You've forgotten everything that I've taught you. Everything!"

She just stared at him blankly.

"And what of Bruce and these other boys?"

"What's that term?" she chuckled. "The enemy of my enemy, is my friend."

"League of Shadow members and assasins don't have friends."

"I'm neither of those anymore. I never wanted to be either of those things to begin with."

He walked forward and knelt in front of her. He rested his hand on her own and sighed.

"Rosie . . . this is not who you are. You are a warrior. A fighter. Not a commoner. Not one of those lower-class scum and criminals of Gotham."

"You know nothing of who I am."

There was a bang downstairs.

Both of their heads turned to the door.

"Looks like your friends have joined the party," he chuckled, turning back to face her. "Come. You can choose who will die first."