InsaneJournal

Who: Jonathan Crane (OPEN)
What: "Research" and murder
Where: Abandoned Warehouse
When: Evening after this conversation.
Rating: Hard R - Graphic torture, mentions of rape



“What do you fear?”

The voice whispered over the young woman's ear and she trembled, looking up at the man before her, drowning in the cold blue eyes. She turned her head away as the flat blade of a knife pressed against her cheek. “N-nothing,” she said, voice breaking and she shuddered at the laughter that spilled from peach colored lips.

“N-nothing?” Jonathan mocked, turning the knife, drawing the very tip of the blade across her cheek. “You fear me. You fear this moment, right now, when you don't know if I'm going to press this blade into your flesh or simply walk away,” he leaned close enough that his lips could have touched hers if he bothered to raise his head anymore. “You fear what I could do to you,” he smirked even more as her body started shaking harder, a million images running through the woman's head. “You fear you're going to die strapped to that chair, you fear...”

He trailed off, looking over his shoulder at the man who entered the room. “What?” he snapped, eyes flashing as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

“The boys are wondering how much longer you're going to be? They're bored.”

“Long enough!” Jonathan snarled, turning. A sickle flew through the air, cutting across the man's throat, severing his common carotid artery before he turned back to the woman, sighing heavily. “Well that killed the mood,” he muttered.

“P-please, let me go!” she said, lifting her head to follow him with her eyes as he moved across the room to retrieve his sickle. “I-I'll do anything...I have money...I know people with money! I...please, I'm real good...”

Jonathan froze, a look of disgust crossing his face before he turned back to her. “First of all, you don't know anyone, I picked you up at a dive bar. Secondly, that's sick. Why would I want some drugged out whore who probably has more diseases then the CDC could identify?” Shaking his head he turned back to the table he had been inspecting, wondering why the women of his acquaintance kept offering him 'anything'...one day he was going to take them up on it.

“S-so you're not going to rape me?” She asked, sounding hopeful, relieved to get rid of one worry.

“I certainly won't...” he then flashed her a grin over his shoulder, looking as sweet as an angel. “But I'm sure my men wouldn't mind, I'll ask them later,”

The woman started to cry and Jonathan turned back to his toys, selecting one that resembled a handful of spider legs tied to a stick. “Now, since you won't tell me what you're afraid of, I am going to have to test everything,” he said with a grin. He crossed the room to her, starting to unbutton her shirt with quick fingers, examining her bare breasts. “Left or right?”

“W-what?” she asked, confused.

“Which do you like better, your left or your right breast?”

“I-I've never...they're the same!”

“If you say so,” Jonathan said, shrugging. He affixed the tool to her left breast, licking his lips as the ends of the Spider's 'legs' sunk into her skin, blood sliding down her breast, causing the woman to scream. He stood, grabbing a length of chain from the floor and feeding though the hoop on the end of the Spider, locking one end with a carabiner and following the chain out the door. “Marcus, could you start the truck and drive off once you connect this to the hitch?” he asked, tossing the end of the chain at someone.

“W-what are you doing?” the woman said, no longer stuttering, but panting in pain, watching him and the chain now attached to her breast.

“Well, I'm standing here. Marcus, however, is going to get into the truck and drive away. When he does, the truck will pull on the chain, dragging it behind, and as you are currently attached to the chain, it will pull on you, and...well, breast tissue isn't really that strong if you catch on,”

The woman's eyes widened in terror and her head jerked towards the door as she heard a car door slam, an old truck starting up. “Rats!” she screamed, jerking on her bonds. “I'm afraid of rats, you sick fuck!”

“Finally.” Jonathan muttered, raising his hand in a universal 'stop' motion. “Now, was that so hard?”

“Get this off of me!”

“Mm, not quite yet,” he said and dropped his arm. The truck outside started off and the woman's scream of pain echoed beautifully around the warehouse as her flesh was torn off, trailing out the door. Jonathan crossed back across the warehouse, ignoring the blood smears as he crouched, examining the damage before standing again, moving behind the unconscious woman to release her handcuffs.

He scooped her into his arms, carrying her across the room to a second, stone table, laying her on it and binding her bed against the stone. He left the warehouse for a moment, returning with a cage that contained a large, brown rat. Two men followed, one setting up a video camera while the other carried part of a small barbeque grill that was smoking.

Jonathan set the rat's cage down on the table, unlocking it and carefully grabbing the rat, holding it by it's neck as he fished under the table for a second cage that had a metal bowl attached to it. He placed the rat on the woman's chest, watching it for a moment before lowering the cage, nodding to the man with the grill as he stepped back.

The man stepped forward, using a pair of long tongs to remove burning coals from the grill, placing them in the metal bowl on the cage, filling it carefully to maximize space. The pair watched as the rat started to panic, darting around as the cage started to gets smokey, heating up.

“I want her watched at all times, do not let the rat free until it escapes on its' own nor let the coals go out,” Jonathan said, not looking from the woman who was starting to come to as he applied smelling salts to her nose. “Good evening, I have to run some errands, but I'm sure you'll enjoy your new friend,” he said, tapping the cage with a pen.

The woman looked down, locking eyes with the frantic rat, and started screaming again. The rat paused at her screams, looking at her, before taking a bite of her ruined breast, clawing at her skin. Jonathan watched the pair for a moment, blood rushing through him, heating with her terror, rushing to his skin, causing him to flush. He coughed, turning away from the table. “Keep a recorder on her, leave the cap on,” he said as he headed for the door. “I have no need for visuals,”

He left the warehouse, ignoring the guard who nodded to him, collapsing into the back of the car that was waiting for him, head falling back against the seat. He swallowed thickly, reaching down to adjust himself before the driver climbed into the car. “Where to, boss?”

“The Clinic, I have some work to do,”

The man nodded, pulling out into the street, not looking back at his boss having already learned a lesson of what the man was capable of his first week on the job. Fear Toxin was not something he ever wanted sprayed in his face again...or injected into his blood.

--

Jonathan locked his door again and crossing the office to his desk, opening his laptop as he fished his headphones from his desk drawer, closing it after in such a hurry he strangled himself with his tie. Making himself comfortable in his plush leather chair he slipped the headphones into their jack before opening the lid of the laptop and clicking an icon on his desktop, the live feed from the warehouse flooding his ears, the woman's screams of terror the sweetest music he had while he prepared case notes.

As he typed a constant thought kept hammering at him until he leaned back in his chair, sliding his glasses off his face and pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, as if he could squeeze the thought out of his brain and let it float away to torment someone else.

The problem, with the nights events, despite how pleasurable they might have been is that they were just that, pleasure, raw and untamed. Torture, violence, all base and crass with none of the elegance and beauty he could have given it.

It some something Joker could have pulled off. Disgusting.

It hadn't even been something worth displaying, giving to the world as his gift. It wouldn't scare anyone, it would disgust them, turn a few stomachs, and then life would move on. They wouldn't care, they wouldn't remember...they wouldn't fear.


He tilted his head back, staring at the water stained ceiling of his office. He needed something more...something worth him, worth Scarecrow. He needed to make his mark on Colligo, lest he be forgotten under a sea of criminals with a catchy hook.

He wanted the city to remember who the fuck Jonathan Crane was.

He groaned, his head falling forward onto the desk with a thunk, slipping the headphones from his ears, all pleasure of the girls' screams lost. If he kept this up, he might as well just walk up to the police and turn himself in, saving is life from mediocrity.

He grabbed his spare cellphone, dialing the men at the warehouse, putting one of the ear buds back in as he called. “Just kill her, do whatever you want first, I don’t' care.”

“The rats partially through her chest boss...”

“It's not worth it, fuck her, shoot her, get rid of her.”

“Ya' want us to still paint her with that pumpkin?”

“I guess, but leave her somewhere dirty, a trash dump somewhere, she's not worth the time for anything else.”

“Ya'got it boss...mind if we pass her around a bit?”

Jonathan made a face, both at the idea and the fact he already gave his permission. Idiots. “Whatever, just be quick about it, I don't want someone to find her and trace her back to me through you,”

“Alright, I'll tell the guys, thanks boss,”

Jonathan hung up the phone, tossing it in the drawer where it usually lived when he didn't need Scarecrow's contacts, turning his attention back to the laptop, deleting the random characters that appeared when had bounced his head off of the keyboard.