InsaneJournal

Who: Hannah West, Jeremiah Crane, Enigma and mentions of Jonathan Crane
What: After effects and murder
Where: Outside Apartment Building C
When: After this thread.
Rating: High - R
WARNING: Murder, mentions of sexual acts., character death.
Notes: Gdoc - 4, 779 words



Something was wrong, Hannah was certain of it. Jonathan had said he'd text her nearly an hour earlier and hadn't. It wasn't like him, to not do what he said he was going to do, and Hannah was positive that something must have happened. She didn't know what, but her instincts told her that it wasn't good. And, after making sure she had her mask, as well as her PDA and her key, Hannah decided it was time she went looking for him to find out what had happened and to see how she might be able to help fix it.

As it turned out, she didn't have to go very far. Just outside of the apartment building where they lived, she found him. For several long moments she had simply stood there, too horrified to even consider doing anything more than staring. Ultimately it was her noticing that glowing question mark that she recognized all too well that seemed to snap her out of it, her heartache being shoved aside as rage unlike anything she'd ever experienced before washed over her like a tidal wave. And while part of her still wanted to scream, and cry, and beg any deity that might listen to bring him back, Hannah didn't. Instead she calmly pulled out her PDA, fingers trembling only slightly as she sent a quick text to Jeremiah to tell him that something had happened to Jonathan and she needed his help. Now.

Once the message was sent, Hannah made her way back into the apartment building just long enough to locate a ladder in the utility closet near the elevator doors. Dragging it back outside, she propped it up against the cross that held her recently adoptive father's dead body. Then, as she waited for Jeremiah to arrive as she'd all but demanded, Hannah began to think of exactly how she was going to deal with Enigma once and for all. Because of that much, she was absolutely certain. By the time the day had come to an end, that bitch was going to be nothing more than a bad memory. She would see to it, no matter what it took.

Jeremiah took longer then intended to answer his sister’s call, having forgotten his own face mask and enduring a nightmare of trampling horses and a headless Jonathan before he managed to get back into his apartment to grab it.

Thankfully, his constant exposure to, and over exposure from the Fear Toxin allowed him to recover quickly, and he all but ran to his sister’s side, looking to her first to make sure she was alright, before finally seeing the body next to her as an actual body, rather than a scarecrow hung up as one of his father’s pranks.

“Nooo,” he whispered, heard clearly through the mask, stumbling backwards until he tripped and hit the ground, shaking his head violently back and forth. “Papa...” he whimpered, voice close to breaking, close to screaming.

He looked at Hannah, eyes begging her to tell him this was all just some sick joke.

"Stop it."

The words were spoken loud enough to be heard through the mask, the tone sharper than any Hannah had ever used around, or especially toward, Jeremiah thus far. She gave a great tremble, attempting to get her own emotions in check before she spoke again. This time, the sharpness had given way to a matter-of-fact tone of voice that left no room for arguing.

"You need to focus, Jeremiah. Be upset later. Right now, I need your help. He needs your help." She paused, sucking in a breath that sounded raspy through the mask she wore, and cast her gaze back over at Jonathan's dangling form. Her emotions once again threatened to get the best of her, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes. She forced them away, though. There would be time for that later. Right now, there were things that needed to be done.

"We need to get him down," she finally said, looking back to the teenager on the ground in front of her. "We can't let anyone else see him like this, and I can't do it by myself. So get up and help me." She paused, her stomach churning at the thought of what they were about to do. "Please," she tacked on after a moment, the first sign of real upset causing her voice to waver as she peered over at her adopted brother with eyes that shone with an odd mixture of pain, loss, and fury the likes of which she had never felt before.

Jeremiah swallowed thickly, tears streaming down his cheeks as he pushed his way to his feet, staring up at their father’s body. “I...I’ll need a hammer,” he said softly, before climbing up the ladder, trying not to break down.

He reached out, ripping the mask free of his father’s hand and the nail that held it in, dropping the burlap down onto the ground, before pushing Jonathan’s broken glasses up his nose. “Hurry.”

That was better. It wasn't good. Nothing was good right now, and Hannah didn't think it'd ever be good again. Not until - and only if - Jonathan showed back up. She knew that he might. There were plenty of people who claimed that anyone who died, simply came back to life. But she wasn't certain about that and, right now, she wasn't going to let hope deter her from doing what needed to be done.

Making her way quickly back into the apartment building, she once again went to the utility closet to locate a hammer. While grabbing one, she spotted a large, flat piece of plywood with wheels attached on the bottom. More than likely it was meant for someone to use to get underneath hard to reach places without having to scoot across the floor on their back. Much like something a mechanic might use. Why it was in the utility closet of an apartment building, Hannah didn't know, but she wasted no time in grabbing it and half-carrying, half-dragging it outside with her, along with the hammer.

Holding the hammer up for Jeremiah to take, Hannah swallowed hard as her attention seemed drawn to Jonathan. When her parents had died, not too long before she had arrived in Colligo, she had been upset but had also noticed, during the viewing of their bodies at the funeral home, and even in the morgue shortly after their accident, that they had looked peaceful. She couldn't say the same for Jonathan, though. She knew it was probably her own mind, her own emotions, causing her to see more than was there to see, but she couldn't help but think that he really just looked broken.

But not as broken as Enigma was going to be, when she got ahold of her.

Shoving thoughts of revenge aside for the time being, Hannah purposefully turned from Jonathan's prone form to Jeremiah while crouching down to pick up their father's fallen mask. "Once we get him down, we can wheel him inside and use the elevator to get to the apartment," she said simply. Was it an ideal plan? Definitely not. But, given the short notice, and the fact that Hannah didn't want anyone to know that Jonathan was dead until Enigma had joined him, it was going to have to do.

“Into bed,” Jeremiah corrected, not looking down at his sister as he took the hammer and started to pry the nails from Jonathan’s hands. He kept his body pressed against his father’s bloody one, ignoring the all too familiar feel of the blood soaking his clothing as he kept his father upright instead of flopping to the ground.

He got an arm free and grabbed it, wrapping it around his neck, still holding his father up as he worked on the other wrist, finally working that one free and catching it as well, pulling his father’s body close as he started to step down the ladder, bringing Jonathan with him.

With each step, more of the crossbars were revealed, including what rested under Jonathan in glowing paint.

I make you weak at the worst of times,
I keep you safe; I keep you fine,
I make your hands sweat, your heart grow cold,
I visit the weak but seldom the bold

Jeremiah’s hands trembled as he stared at the riddle, anger, pain, rage and hurt filling him. “You’re going to kill her, aren’t you?” he asked, staring at the words.

As the riddle was revealed, Hannah's attention was drawn temporarily to it. She felt a sick twist in her gut as she was easily able to identify what that particular riddle meant, unlike the ones she'd been subjected to when Enigma had tried to kill her. Swallowing hard, she responded to Jeremiah's question with a simple, "Of course I am. Now come on. We need to get him inside."

Turning, she grabbed the edge of the plywood and dragged it closer to them. Once they'd managed to get Jonathan onto it, making sure that his arms were resting on his torso so they wouldn't drag the ground, Hannah looked back to her brother. "I'm not as strong as you are, so I'll pull. You push." And, with that, she got into position at Jonathan's feet to do exactly as she'd said.

Jeremiah moved to his sister, pulling her away from the plywood cart. “Hannah, relax, I’ve got it,” he said softly before pulling her into his arms, hugging her tightly. He tilted his head down, pressing his lips against her ear. “Destroy her,” he breathed, allowing his own madness to show for the first time since arriving at Colligo, setting free the demon he kept hidden under easy smiles.

He pulled away, studying his sister before reaching into the large pocket of his hoodie, pulling out a small handgun, one that would easily fit into her hand and not make it impossible to shoot. “Make her hurt for us, alright?” he asked, giving her a bright, and fake grin, before he tucked his father’s legs in a bit, pushing the plywood card easily for his size, giving testament to his experience with the act.

The hug was almost her undoing. Until that moment, Hannah had managed to keep a tight lid on her emotions. However, the moment Jeremiah's arms went around her, she felt the tears return and trembled violently from the force of everything she was feeling. Drawing in a breath, the sound amplified by the gas mask, Hannah did her best to compose herself as he pulled away and handed her a gun. She nodded numbly, sniffling as quickly as the mask would allow, and watched as he led their father's body away.

"I'll be back," she called after him. "Lock the door behind you and don't answer it for anyone. Not anyone, Jeremiah. I'll be back. I promise."

The minute they were safely inside the building, she drew in a steadying breath and turned toward the streets of Colligo laid out before her. Somewhere, there was a murderess running around who needed to be dealt with. And, no matter what it took, Hannah was going to see that it happened.

"Okay, little Riddler," she muttered as she slid the gun into the waistband of her pants and began making her way down the sidewalk, mind already whirling with various ways she could track her target down. "You've had your fun. Now, it's my turn."

“Honestly, men!” Enigma muttered as she swung her father’s cane, smashing the glass in front of a grocery store, climbing in. “We don’t want to go out there, there are things in the night, the gas is poison,” she mimicked, grabbing a cart and filling it with the groceries she and her henchmen would need in the fall out shelter to wait out the gas attack.

“What’s the point of paying them, if they won’t do something simple like the shopping?” she asked the loaf of bread she held up before tossing it into the cart, adding a few more before turning the corner. “Okay, I don’t actually pay them, but seriously, you’d think for a damn amazing blowjob they could at least pick up the milk, but nooo.”

It seemed as though Hannah had walked for hours, although it probably had only been about fifteen minutes or so, when she finally managed to spot Enigma making her way into a grocery store through the large, now shattered, display windows. Saying a silent thank you to whatever force had ensured that she track the woman down, the girl paused for a moment at the corner across the street just long enough to glance around and make sure she was alone. Not seeing anyone else nearby, she wasted no time in crossing the street and climbing through the window as well.

Although she still felt shaken from what had happened, she was surprisingly calm as she made her way systematically toward the near constant babble coming from the other woman. When she finally spotted her, Hannah silently doubled back and around, coming up on the aisle from the opposite side to block the easiest exit out of the area where they were standing. Hand sliding into her pocket, fingers wrapping around the cool steel of the handgun, she calmly reached up and pulled her mask away.

If the toxin got to her, so be it. She needed to be able to see clearly if she was going to pull this off, which meant the mask had to go.

Once it was removed, she let it drop to the floor and spoke up at the same time. Her tone was flat, lacking any real emotion whatsoever, but her eyes shone with anger and determination as she leveled her gaze and called out, "Hey. Cutie. I have a riddle for you. Want to hear it?"

The squeaky wheels of the cart froze, and Enigma poked her head around the corner, quickly retreating at the sight of the gun. “Not really, sweetheart, why don’t you go home and play with Daddy Crane?” she called cheerily, checking her hips before remembering she was still wearing the short skirt she had changed into at the lair, and thus didn’t have a weapon on her except the cane.

“Of all the days to dress like a slut,” she muttered before sighing, banging her head against the shelves behind her for a moment, looking at the ceiling of the store. “I’m sorry, pop...” she whispered.

"Oh, come on," Hannah called out, her tone going from flat to almost friendly. "I worked really hard on it," she added, a cruel sort of smile crossing her face for the briefest of moments before her expression once again became dark with calculated rage. Slowly she made her way toward the aisle, each footstep echoing in the abandoned grocery store. "I'm not as good as you are, of course, but I think I'm making very impressive progress all things considered. Are you sure you don't want to hear it?"

Pausing, she waited for a moment before adding, "It will only take a second. Really. I have things to do, so it's not like I have all day."

Enigma took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment before squaring her shoulders, facing her death like a Nigma as she turned the corner, leaning against the rack of donuts next to her, giving Hannah a smirk. “Alright Baby Crane, get it over with,” she said, trying not to stare at the gun, instead keeping her eyes on Hannah’s.

This was it. Once she took the next step in her plan, once she'd pulled that trigger, there would be no going back. Hannah could practically hear those who had known her back home screaming at her not to do it. She could all but see the disappointment, and even disgust, that Sara would have once the news got out what she'd done. However, none of that mattered to her at the moment. All that mattered, all that Hannah could think about, was making damn sure Enigma paid for what she'd done to Jonathan. And if that meant selling a piece of her soul and becoming a killer, so be it.

At least she and Marlon would finally have something in common besides the same biological father.

"Okay," she said with a slight shrug, taking a step closer and eyeing the woman closely. "Some try to hide, some try to cheat; But time will show we will always meet. Try as you might to guess my name, I promise you will know me when I make my claim." Her lips twisted into a heartless smile as she tacked on a downright chilling, "The answer is pretty obvious, of course. All you have to do is say it, and who knows? Maybe I'll turn around and walk away from this on the spot."

“You won’t,” Enigma said. “I never did.” She pushed off the rack, moving closer to Hannah, shortening the aim. “Do you have what it takes, little Crane? Too look someone in the eyes and shoot them cold?” She knelt, looking over the gun for a moment before raising it, making sure it was lined up perfectly with her head. “I killed my first man at your age. I beat him to death with my cane, hitting him over and over again until his skull was so much powder, his brains pudding. I wore his blood for days,”

She rolled her eyes up to look at Hannah. “But it didn’t stop the pain,” she said and closed her eyes. “Death.”

Hannah's face was a mask of indifference as Enigma spoke. She bid her time, waiting until the woman had finally answered, before calmly responding, "That's the thing about me that you don't seem to get, Enigma. I don't care about the pain. What I care about is making sure that things are fair." Taking her time, drawing it out, she continued.

"You killed Jonathan. You left him hung up on display for anyone who came along to find. So, really, it's only fair that the same thing happens to you." She gave a slight shrug of her shoulders, even if the other woman couldn't see it through her shut eyes. "But I don't really have time for that," she admitted. "So this will just have to do, I guess."

And with that, Hannah raised the gun and took aim. However she hesitated before pulling the trigger. Not because she was having second thoughts, but rather because she wasn't sure she wanted to end it that fast. Not when Jeremiah's only request had been that she make the woman hurt. So instead of taking the shot that she had all lined up, she instead lowered her aim a bit and said in that same calm tone, "First, though, this is for what you did to me."

Shooting Enigma in the knee, she only paused long enough to draw a breath before adding, "And this is for making Jeremiah cry." That being said, Hannah calmly shot out the woman's other knee, gun instantly retrained on her target's face. "Oh!" she added after a few seconds. "I also only think it's fair that I tell you, once you're gone? I'm taking that cane of yours. I think it's going to look very nice once I melt it down and form it into a pumpkin for the table in my dining room. Don't you?"

Enigma blinked as Hannah lowered the gun, before screaming as the devil child shot out her knees, tears streaming down her face, streaking her mascara easily. The mention of her cane, her father’s cane however, had her head shooting up, launching for the girl.

All thoughts of a peaceful death were gone as she tried to literally claw Hannah’s face off with her nails, screaming in rage at the very idea of the unworthy twerp touching what was hers, dragging her ruined legs behind her as she did so.

She would make the little bitch pay.

When the scream echoed in her ears, Hannah was ready. Raising her gun, she took aim while simultaneously taking a step back. "So much for dignity in death," she said, disgust lacing her words. "I'm sure your father would be proud." And, not wasting anymore time if only because she wanted to get back to Jeremiah sooner rather than later, she pulled the trigger.

Once it was done, Hannah didn't feel any real sense of relief. She didn't feel much of anything, actually, aside from satisfaction at knowing it was over. She stared down at the woman for a long moment before calmly tucking the gun into her waistband and moving to where Enigma's cane rested on the ground. Staring at it for a long moment, she used the toe of her shoe to slide it across the floor to where the woman lay. She'd never had any real intention of taking the cane. Truth be told, she didn't want anything to do with it at all. But pretending otherwise had definitely, definitely, been worth it.

With one last glance at the scene before her, she picked up her gas mask, pulled it back over her head, then made her way out of the grocery store without so much as a single glance back.

Jeremiah was curled up in a corner of Hannah’s room when she returned, his knees drawn tightly to his chest, rocking back and forth, muttering into his knees. Across from him, on the bed, Jonathan was laid out peacefully, arms crossed over his stomach to hide the gaping wounds (and to keep his intestines in his body).

As soon as Jeremiah had finished the task, he had broken down, as evidence by the bloody hand prints leading to where he was, blood dripping from his arms where he had scratched at his skin in a panic.

By the time she'd gotten back to the apartments, the sadness that had been overshadowed by rage had finally managed to catch up with her. Climbing the stairs one at a time to the floor she lived on, not wanting to take the elevator in case someone witnessed her and took note of the gun she was carrying, each step made her feel more and more like crying. There was an overwhelming sense of loss that had settled inside of her heart and she knew that it was never going to really go away so long as Jonathan was gone.

However she also knew she couldn't give in to that sorrow. Not yet. She still had things she needed to do. Like look after Jeremiah. Because even though he was technically older, Hannah had no doubt in her mind that the loss of their father was going to take a much harder toll on him than it was on her. As his sister, it was her job to make sure he got through it. Somehow.

Finally reaching the apartment, she opened the door with her key and stepped inside, shutting it softly behind her then making her way silently to her bedroom where she was fairly certain she would find not only her father's corpse but also her brother. Yet even with her understanding that Jeremiah likely wasn't going to be well off, she was still stunned at the sight that greeted her. For a long moment, she stood in the doorway and simply stared. Then she seemed to snap out of it and moved further into the room while trying to decide the best way to proceed.

"I'm back," she announced first and foremost. Opening her mouth to say more, Hannah instead opted against it and gave a soft sigh. Then she made her way to Jeremiah, wrapping her arms gently around him in a hug. For a long moment, she was completely silent, before finally she murmured against his hair, "I told you I'd come back and I did. See? And now, we're going to find a way to get through this, because that's what he would want us to do. We're going to stick together and, more importantly, we're going to survive."

By the end of her small speech, Hannah wasn't sure if she was speaking to him or to herself. Either way, she meant every word she said. They would get through this. There simply wasn't any other choice.

Jeremiah clung to her, burying his face in her shoulder, wetting it with his tears. After a moment of silent sobbing he spoke, his voice broken, harsh from the crying. “His will...he named Justin and Harley our guardians,”

And that had been the biggest shock, not that Jonathan had named the two people he trusted most to take care of them, but that he had provided for Jeremiah in his will, not only with guardians, but money, belongings, everything he had split easily down the middle unless they were intended to share.

The only thing not split, in deference to Jeremiah’s phobia was Nightmare the Horse. That was left solely to Hannah.

“I don’t want new parents,” he said brokenly. “I want Papa back, I want us to be a family again,” he whispered, clinging harder to Hannah.

Hannah’s stomach drew into tighter knots at Jeremiah’s words. Immediately, the emotional side of her began to fight against what she was being told. Accepting it meant accepting that Jonathan was well and truly gone, and she simply wasn’t ready for that. No. Colligo was a place where the impossible was made possible. People came back from the dead. They admitted to it easily enough, over the public message board, all of the time. There was no reason Jonathan wouldn’t do the same.

Unfortunately, the easiest way to bring him back - via use of the very same blood that had healed her injuries in a matter of mere minutes - simply wasn’t possible in this case. Hannah had considered it, in passing, upon discovery of his body. However she’d realized almost immediately after she’d had the thought that it wouldn’t work with him. He’d suffered too many injuries - most of them causing a massive amount of blood loss - and therefore it just wouldn’t work at all.

Still. She refused to believe he was gone for good. They just had to wait it out. That was all.

Holding Jeremiah tight while he spoke, she tried coming up with something to say to calm him. All she could really manage, though, was a simple, “It’ll be okay, Jeremiah. I promise. It’ll be okay.”

The problem was, she wasn’t sure that was true. Jonathan might never return again. He had died at the hands of another, true, but he had caused a great deal of pain and suffering in his wake. If the guy in charge decided to make an example out of him, there was absolutely nothing she nor Jeremiah could do about it. Although she was certain that no one could force them to become the charges of either Justin or Harley. Even with a will in place to dictate such a thing, Hannah was fairly certain she could take it to court, contest it, and would win. It wasn’t as though manipulating the courts was hard if you knew what you were doing, after all.

But she saw no reason to say such a thing to the young man clinging to her at the moment. No, instead she simply continued to hold him close and tried to be as reassuring as possible. She wasn’t very good at it, but she did her best.