Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, but I have plans tonight.”

“Come on! You don’t have to lie to me. Who makes plans on a weeknight? Just let me drive you home. I know you don’t have a ride.”

“I really do have plans tonight. I’m sorry.” You’re trying so hard to be polite, but it’s getting more and more difficult. He’s being way too persistent and at this point, there’s no way you’re going to get in a car with him.

Adrian rolls his eyes, listening to you try to gently let down the cook that’s on day six of trying to ask you out. You’ve been working as a waitress at Fennel Fields for the past month. You’re nice, too nice, which is why this guy isn’t taking the hint that you’re not interested in taking a ride in his lifted pickup truck.

He’s clearing a table during one of the slowest times of the day so he isn’t in a rush. He has his back to the kitchen, where you’re unsuccessfully trying to excuse yourself from the conversation. Adrian doesn’t even have to look back at you to know you’re smiling while you try to let the cook down.

You haven’t really interacted much since you got hired. You always say hi to him and smile at him, but you haven’t gotten past small talk. Which is fine with him. Adrian doesn’t need a distraction and you…you’d be a distraction if you tried to get close to him.

You’re cute, in an approachable way. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t think about you sometimes when he got off. Sometimes, he likes to think about what it’d be like to fuck you against the wall behind the restaurant. He wouldn’t ask you out, though. Hooking up, having a quickie in the bathroom, would be enough for him.

On his way into the kitchen, Adrian tries to go unnoticed. He’s walking fast, just trying to ignore the conversation taking place near the doorway, but his eyes happen to wander at the worst moment. They meet yours and seconds later, you’re putting a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Adrian.” The way you say his name is too nice, it’s too warm, and you’re smiling at him again. “Let me take those. I have some free time.”

“Huh? No, I’ve got it.” He tries to argue, but you’re already trying to take the tub of dirty dishes from him. Your fingers brush against his, warm and soft.

When you carry the tub into the kitchen, he doesn’t thank you. Behind his glasses, his eyes narrow and he takes the opportunity to slip outside. The air is cold and the sky is gray.

You used him. You used helping him as an excuse to get away from that cook. Adrian isn’t stupid. He knows you didn’t do that just to be nice…even if you are too nice. Don’t you know what happens to people that are too nice?

He’s eager for his shift to end. Eager to be able to put on his suit and his mask, eager to stop being Adrian Chase for a while and be Vigilante. He has big plans for tonight. He’s spent the past week making a list of criminals to take out and tonight, he knows that at least five of those guys are going to all be in one place. He can’t wait to be able to kill them.

As soon as his shift ends, he’s gone. He doesn’t linger, he doesn’t say goodbye to anyone. After all, he’s just a busboy; no one says goodbye to him anyway. He has one thing on his mind and he’s focused on getting home, getting ready, and getting his hands dirty.

All week, he’s been looking forward to the adrenaline rush of a fight. He’s been planning, deciding what weapons to bring, daydreaming about how he wants to kill each of the criminals he’s targeting tonight. They’re just some shitty drug dealers, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to go easy on them. They might even have some guys standing guard outside that he can pick off before he goes in.

From the information he gathered, they’re supposed to be meeting in an old auto parts shop just outside of town. It hasn’t been in business for years and there’s a scrapyard behind it. He’s already scouted it out, already planted some explosives earlier in the week that he’ll be able to detonate remotely. That way, if anyone manages to escape the slaughter in the shop and they try to hide, he can just blow them to bits.

Vigilante is giddy with anticipation. His only regret is that Peacemaker isn’t there to take part in the fun. His pulse is racing, adrenaline is coursing through his veins, as he approaches the auto parts shop. He’s using the cover of darkness as he crawls along the ditch, pausing when he hears a car drive by.

When he finally pushes himself up, he’s right across the road from the shop. The trees along the side of the street give him enough cover that he could easily prep to shoot one of the men standing guard outside of the shop…if they were alive. His shoulders droop when he sees the two buff guys slumped on the ground outside the main door.

“What the fuck? Are you kidding me?!” Looking around, he doesn’t see anyone else in the area. Jogging across the street, Vigilante can see the pools of blood glistening on the ground beneath the corpses. One of the men has at least a dozen holes in his chest, but they’re too crude to be bullet holes. The other guy…has half of his skull caved in. Vigilante can see bits of skull fragments in the viscera from the blunt force trauma.

“I went through all of that planning just for some asshole to come along and steal my kill?! Who does that?” He looks towards the front door just in time for a body to come crashing out through the window to his right.

The man isn’t exactly dead, but he’s on his way out. Convulsing on the dirt, clutching his chest and coughing up blood. Tears and snot are running down his face when he looks up at Vigilante, one eye a bright candy red and his nose broken. Vigilante tilts his head and crouches down. In one smooth move, he brings a handgun to the man’s face and presses the muzzle between his eyes. “Here you go.”

Vigilante looks at the window as he squeezes the trigger. The shot is loud and sharp, the sound clear in the otherwise silent atmosphere. His lips quirk into a smirk, knowing that whoever is inside will know that he’s here and he has them trapped.

You tense when you hear the sound, lowering yourself into a crouch as your head snaps in the direction of the front of the shop. Hearing broken glass crunch beneath someone’s foot, your eyes shift to the last living man in the shop with you. His breathing is ragged, there’s blood running down the side of his face and from the gash you opened across his gut.

Seeing him take a step towards the door, you turn your head toward him and glare as you try to make him freeze. He ignores your glare and lurches in the direction of the door, clutching his stomach with a blood-slicked hand. Immediately, you dart forward to stop him. You’re armed with a hefty meat tenderizer and one of your sharpest knives, ready to shut him up before he calls for help.

There’s a good chance that whoever is outside might be a cop. A cop or possibly someone working for another drug dealer, here to stick their nose into someone else’s business. Whoever it is, you can’t afford for this idiot to have backup. He has to die.

One strike of the tenderizer to his ribs has the man sprawling on the floor. You straddle his back and lift the tenderizer again, smashing it against the back of his head once, twice, three times. As you lift the tenderizer for a fourth strike, you hear movement near the window and look up just in time to spot a figure outside.

It feels like time slows down. You don’t immediately register that they’re holding a gun, but as soon as you do, a sharp impact hits you in the left side of your chest and sends you falling backwards. There’s an intense pressure inside your chest, an unbearable tickle as you cough and taste copper. Blood splatters your lips and it runs from your nose as you sputter, your right hand releasing the knife to press your palm against your wound.

You struggle to push yourself up onto your elbows, blood pouring down your chin from your nose and lips. Propping up your upper half, you can see the figure hopping into the shop through the broken window. Your vision is blurry, tears overflowing from the white-hot pain in your sternum. Before you can push yourself to stand up, before you can even prepare to attack this stranger wearing a suit and a mask, they aim for your head and squeeze the trigger again.

There’s a sharp ringing the instant before impact. When the bullet enters your skull, you don’t feel any pain. It’s like turning off a light. Everything goes dark, all sound becomes muffled, and your body goes completely limp on the bloody floor.

Vigilante approaches the corpse of the asshole who stole his kills. The large open space inside the auto parts shop is a bloodbath. Bodies litter the floor. Lifeless, soaked in their own blood, broken bones jutting through flesh, brains gleaming through holes in skulls. Some of them were gutted, one of them was disemboweled, a few of them had their heads smashed in.

He isn’t easily impressed, but this was a pretty thorough job. The kind of work an assassin would do. He hasn’t gotten a good look at the thief lying motionless in front of him yet. The thief is wearing clothes that cover them well, along with gloves, a gaiter mask to cover the bottom half of their face, and a pair of tinted goggles to hide the top of their face.

Vigilante crouches down, looking closely to make sure the thief is dead. There’s no sign of movement, no sign of breathing. Tilting his head, he decides to get a good look at whoever ruined his night. He slides his fingers beneath the edge of the gaiter to pull it down and pushes the goggles up.

“Shit.” He leans closer, staring down at your lifeless face. The blood paints your lips like a dark lipstick and runs down the curve of your cheekbones. “Oh, fuck! What the hell?! What were you even doing here?”

Hearing police sirens in the distance, he swears and moves on impulse. Vigilante scoops up your unmoving body and he rushes through the shop to the back. Bursting through the door, he runs deep into the scrapyard behind the shop and tucks himself into an old van with your body.

He props you against the door across from where he sits, watching blood drip from your lips and speckle the front of your black hooded shirt. Your head is lowered, your arms limply resting at your sides with your gloved hands curled into loose fists. Vigilante can’t believe this is happening.

What were you doing here? There’s no way that you seriously killed all of those men yourself! Why?! His thoughts are racing and he can hear the sirens cut as the police cars park in front of the shop. There’s enough ground between there and here, he could easily make it through the fence to the scrapyard and escape. The problem is that he’ll have to leave you behind.

You’re dead. It’s fine. He can’t haul your corpse around with him and he can’t bring you back to his place. Someone will find you here and he’ll see your face on the news in the morning. Everyone in Fennel Fields will be shocked by it, people are going to wonder how the cute waitress got caught up in a drug dealer massacre.

He’s not upset, he tells himself as he lifts your body into one of the back seats and arranges your hands to rest on your lap. His gloved fingers grip your jaw, positioning your head so your face won’t be looking towards the floor. The blood is drying on your skin, your eyelids slightly open and glassy eyes staring blankly at him. “This sucks,” he mutters, leaning closer. “Why’d you have to do it? Why’d you snipe my kills?!”

You can’t move, as consciousness returns to you. The damage to your body is slowly repairing itself, but you can’t move yet. All you can do is stare at the masked man in front of you, unable to even blink, and listen as he rambles. A numbness has settled over you, muffling the pain to a dull ache in your chest and head. You can feel each slow heartbeat, feel the pressure of his grip on your jaw as he positions you like a doll.

You don’t know who he is. You don’t know why he killed you. After he finally leaves, your body heals enough to let you move. With the red and blue lights at the front of the shop, you know that way isn’t an option. All you can do is hide and wait, to make sure you put plenty of distance between you and that masked man, before you’re able to leave the scrapyard.

The healing process is fairly quick, leaving behind faint scars where you were shot. Something that you easily hide with makeup the next day as you get ready for work. You step into Fennel Fields, settling that mask back into place. That sweet, cute, cheerful mask you wear as a waitress. When you spot your favorite busboy, you flash him a smile. “Hi, Adrian!”

Chapter Text

How are you still alive?! He killed you! Adrian put a bullet in your head and he carried your corpse in his arms! He couldn’t feel a pulse when he checked, you weren’t breathing! So how the fuck did you show up at work like nothing happened?

Adrian is pacing in his room, trying to decide what to do. Usually when he kills someone, they stay dead and he doesn’t have them smiling at him the next day at work. You didn’t even have a hole in your head! So that means you healed yourself, right? Either that or it never really happened, but that would mean that Adrian hallucinated the whole thing.

That’s not what happened. He’d know if he was hallucinating, he’s pretty sure. If it was real and he really did kill you, then someone either resurrected you somehow or you’re not normal. Either way, now he has a big fucking problem.

He knows your secret identity, but he doesn’t know why you killed those drug dealers. He doesn’t even know how someone like you managed to take out so many guys with just a knife and meat tenderizer. That was insane! If he wasn’t panicking, he might even find it impressive. The problem is that now you’re going to target him and if you can’t die, how is he supposed to stop you from killing him?

What are you? Some kind of meta human? An alien? A shapeshifter? You look cute on the surface and you’re always nice to him at work, but when he saw you swinging that hammer down onto that guy’s skull last night, you looked like a different person. Before he knew it was you, he was just pissed off that someone stole his kill, but now that he knows the truth…

Adrian stops pacing and sits on the edge of his bed, gripping his Vigilante mask in his hands and staring down at his red visor. He needs to figure out what you are and what you’re planning next, but at the same time…thinking about the way you wielded that hammer is making him hard. He can’t help picturing you in your waitress uniform, taking out that cook that keeps hitting on you, and it makes his cock twitch.

He doesn’t have time for distractions! That’s what he tells himself, even as he falls onto his back and opens his pants. He wraps his fingers around his shaft, stroking his length and biting down on his free hand while he thinks about you. Picturing your uniform splattered with blood, bending you over a table while he pounds into you from behind.

When he finishes, he cleans himself up and he knows what he needs to do. He needs to find a way to keep you from trying to learn his secret identity. If he can’t kill you, he’ll just have to get creative and find another way to stop you. Maybe Adrian can even kill two birds with one stone. He can get closer to you, learn your secret, and keep you from potentially exposing him.

You’re just trying to get through your shift at Fennel Fields. There are a few residual aches from bruises under your uniform. Minor injuries that were left unhealed by your ability. Its focus is survival, after all; not comfort. You’re able to heal enough to stabilize yourself, but bruises and scratches aren’t exactly life-threatening.

As you wait on tables, you think back to last night. Everything was going exactly as planned until that guy in the suit and mask showed up. You’d managed to kill your target and you were taking out the last of the witnesses when he appeared. Subconsciously, you reach up to touch the spot on your forehead where he shot you.

The skin is smooth, just lightly marked by the scar left behind. You know there’s another scar hidden in your hair, at the back of your head. Just fun little reminders of the maniac that killed you for “sniping his kills”. You never imagined you’d be in such an insane situation before, but now you had a problem.

He saw your face. Whoever he was, he got a really good look at your face when he pulled your gaiter down and pushed your goggles up. The guy even posed you in that car seat like you were a doll, putting his masked face just a few inches away from yours.

What if he sees that you’re alive and he kills you again? Your death would just be temporary, but he might take out the people around you. If he found you at Fennel Fields and killed innocent people while he was trying to get to you, you’d never forgive yourself.

The scariest part is that you don’t know who he is. You didn’t see his face. All you can go off of is his voice, but it was slightly muffled and distorted because your brain was still repairing itself when he talked to you. That man could’ve been anyone. He could be any of the customers you’ve served today, he could be any of the people you passed on the road on your way to work. He could even be one of your coworkers, but that’s pretty unlikely.

On your drive home, you’re confident that it’s someone you’ve talked to before. When he was rambling to your paralyzed, half-dead body in the back of the van, it seemed like he knew you. For a fleeting second, you wonder if he was Adrian. Adrian did look kind of sick at the start of the shift and went home early, but the thought of Adrian Chase shooting you in cold blood is almost funny.

Pulling into the driveway at your little rental house, you’re wary. Glancing over your shoulder to make sure you’re not being followed, checking the front and back yard for any signs that someone might’ve been at your house. Everything seems normal and you try to push your anxiety to the back of your mind.

Last night wasn’t the first time you’ve killed someone in this town. There have been others, but you never saw him before last night. You can’t help wondering if it was just a terrible coincidence. Maybe he isn’t from here, maybe he was just passing through town and you’ll never see him again.

It’s not as if death can stop you, though. No, you’ll come back as many times as you need to in order to finish your grim task. You don’t have a choice. You just don’t like getting hurt while you’re being killed.

The house is quiet when you step inside, the only sound that greets your ears being the quiet burbling noise of the fish tank. You lock the door behind you and deadbolt it before starting the shower. Quietly humming to yourself as you strip off your uniform, eager to wash away the sweat and then relax while you try to form a plan.

The water is steaming, the air is full of the refreshing smell of your bodywash. You turn your back to the frosted glass of the shower door, so you don’t see the figure in the hallway. You don’t hear his footsteps, the sound of running water hiding the noise.

When you finally turn around, you instantly jolt backwards against the tiled wall of the shower. Your pulse is racing, blood turned to ice in your veins as you press yourself as far away from the shower door as possible, trying to cover yourself with your hands. He’s standing right on the other side of the frosted glass door, the mask and the suit unmistakable.

A million things go through your head. Instinct makes you want to scream, but conditioning makes you prepare to fight him. Your eyes lower from his red visor down to his hands, expecting to see him reaching for the door handle or holding a weapon. You’re prepared to fight if he decides to yank the door open and drag you out. Instead, you see that he’s holding a paper bag from a taco place.

“Huh.” He tilts his head, but he still doesn’t grab the door handle. The masked stranger is just standing outside of your shower. With that mask and visor, you’re not even sure where he’s looking. It doesn’t seem like he’s trying to threaten you…yet. Right now, it almost feels like he’s just staring at a goldfish in its tank at the pet store.

Vigilante is, in fact, looking you up and down. He’s watching the water droplets run down your bare skin, he’s committing this image to memory for the next time he wants to jerk off thinking about you. It’s when he looks at your chest that he sees the scar from where he shot you and he smiles beneath his mask. It wasn’t a hallucination! And that scar proves it!

He lifts his free hand and puts it against the frosted glass, drumming his gloved fingertips on the smooth surface. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere. Look. I even brought you a snack.” Vigilante lifts the paper bag and shakes it a little. “Don’t keep me waiting, okay?” He leans closer to the glass, pressing his forehead against it. “Because if you do, I might have to put a few more holes in your chest.”

He keeps standing there until you finally nod. Satisfied, he casually turns away without another word and leaves you alone in the bathroom. You keep your eyes on the open doorway as you reach over to turn off the water. You quickly grab a towel and your mind races.

Adrenaline is pumping through your veins as you wrap the towel around yourself, thinking about every spot where you have weapons hidden. You saw him head toward your bedroom and you don’t have clean clothes with you. For a few seconds, you consider sneaking out of the house. If your neighbors see you hurrying down the driveway in a towel, someone will call the police, right?

The scariest part of this situation is that he knows you won’t stay dead if he murders you. No matter how he kills you, you’ll regenerate. No matter what he does to you, you’ll regenerate. He could scoop your eyes out of your skull, he could break all of your limbs, he could crush your ribcage or smash your face and you know that with time, you’d heal.

As you tiptoe towards your bedroom, you pass a small table in the hallway and reach for the knife taped under the top. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. If you’re fast enough, you might be able to incapacitate him.

You’re tense as you approach the open doorway, prepared for him to try to ambush you. Instead, you find him lying on your bed and flipping through one of your books. He looks up when you appear in the doorway and tosses the book aside. It’s in that moment that you rush forward with the knife, drawing it back to show him that you’re not completely helpless.

Vigilante isn’t…whatever the hell you are…but he’s skilled. As soon as you get close, he moves quickly to disarm you. With a few swift maneuvers, he has you against the wall beside your closet door with your wrists pinned above your head. He tilts his head, looking at you through the visor and smiling beneath his mask.

“You’re not even trying! Come on! I saw what you did to those guys last night! If you really wanted to stab me, you would’ve done it!” He leans closer, his grip on your wrists tightening, and he doesn’t even blink when your towel starts to slip. “Wanna know why I’m here?”

“Shut up!” You thrash, trying to free yourself, but freeze up when you can feel the towel loosening. “Just let go. I’m not going to-”

“Hey. Play nice. I’m the one with the body armor here.”

“Just let me get dressed!”

“Seriously? I saw everything when you were in the shower!” Vigilante still releases you, but he keeps your knife pinned down on the floor beneath his boot. He sits on the edge of your bed while you grab some clothes, dragging the knife with him and pushing it under the bed. “So, what’s your problem? I know I killed you last night! I was carrying your corpse!”

You hear him say your name and it sends a weird, prickly sensation along your spine. Not exactly fear, but something else. You’re just really uneasy, knowing that this maniac knows your name. “I can’t die.” You don’t want him to see everything, but you can’t put your back to him. Reluctantly facing the masked stranger, keeping your eyes on him, you get dressed. “What’s your name?”

“Vigilante.” He doesn’t even try to hide the fact that he’s watching you get dressed. Worse, he doesn’t try to hide the slight bulge in his suit, below his waistline. “And you were definitely dead last night. I made sure you were.”

“Well, it’s not that I can’t die. It’s just that death is temporary for me.” Why are you having what almost feels like a friendly conversation with him? He broke into your house and creeped on you while you were showering! Now he’s in your room, talking to you like he didn’t shoot you in the head last night!

Before you can try to question him, he holds up the paper bag from the taco place and shakes it like it’s a bag of dog treats. “I got you some churros.”

“Churros?” You stare at the bag, raising an eyebrow. The way he pronounced that word sounds weirdly familiar. You know you’ve heard it before, but you can’t remember where.

“Tell me why you can’t die and maybe I’ll think about forgiving you for stealing my kills last night.”

Chapter Text

You know that Vigilante probably has a lot of questions, but you have some of your own. How did he get into your house? How long has he been in your house? More importantly, how old are these churros? They’re hard as a rock as you bite into them, the sugary coating turned into a crunchy shell that falls apart between your teeth as you chew.

Of course, you had some reservations about taking food from this maniac. The obvious fear being that he poisoned the churros or drugged them. Logic quickly kicked in, though. Why would he bother poisoning you if he knew you were just going to come back to life? Drugging you would be pretty pointless, too.

Vigilante is standing in front of the fish tank, tapping on the glass and watching the tiny neon fish zip around in a mad panic. “You should get some fighting fish. I knew a guy in high school that filled a tank with them and had them fight to the death until there was just one left.” Laughing and shaking his head, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. “It was so gross! Little pieces of them were floating in the water and the last fish kept trying to eat them!”

You have a churro between your teeth, preparing to bite down, but you pause. “You’re talking about yourself, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am!” Striding across the living room with a little spring in his step, he leans down and plants a hand on the arm of your chair. “You figured that out way faster than I thought you would.” His head tilts, his expression still hidden beneath his mask, but you can hear a hint of something in his voice when he talks again. It’s something between amazement and excitement. “You get me.”

“I don’t. Here.” Holding up a churro, you keep your eyes focused on his visor. At this close range, you can see his eyes through it, even if the color is masked.

Vigilante straightens up and crosses his arms. “Come on! Why did you automatically think I was talking about myself? It’s because you understand! You know what it’s like to be a killer and you love it just as much as I do. I saw the work you did last night! You tortured those guys before you killed them! Nobody that hates killing would disembowel a guy the way you did!”

“Here.” This time, you shove the churro in his direction. You have your reasons, your suspicions. The more he talks, the more familiar his voice sounds, but you need him to say it again. You need to hear the way he pronounces “churro” to confirm your theory.

“Huh? I already had some. I got those churros for you.” There it is again. That bizarre way he said “churros”, overexaggerating the way he rolls the double r’s. Like a suburban dad trying to show off in a Mexican restaurant. The same way you heard a coworker pronounce the word just last week.

Another waitress was talking about how she made churro French toast and you can vividly remember one particular coworker argue that it wasn’t real churro French toast if she wasn’t actually using churros. Everyone made a big deal of the weird way the busboy pronounced the word, laughing and teasing him about it. You remember trying to show Adrian some sympathy because he looked so upset.

Adrian. You stare at Vigilante, but you don’t let it show on your face that you’re alarmed. There’s no way, right? How could this masked murderer be Adrian Chase? The same guy that was getting teased about pronouncing “churro” weirdly. The same guy that doesn’t like small talk at work, the same guy that you saw drop a full tub of dishes once when a cook nudged him on his way into the kitchen.

“Come on! Are you going to tell me or am I going to have to torture it out of you?” He grips both arms of your chair and brings his masked face close to yours, staring at you through the red visor. “Now that I know you can just revive if I kill you, I can get really creative with it and have some fun.”

“I’m human!” You say it quickly, not because you’re afraid of getting hurt, but because you don’t want him to make a mess in this house. It’s a rental and you want to get your deposit back when you eventually move out.

Immediately, his shoulders slouch a little. “Seriously?! Man, it would be way too easy for someone to really interrogate you!” He leans back a bit, but he nudges a knee between your thighs on the chair cushion. “But that’s not everything, is it? Humans don’t just come back from the dead and I’m pretty fucking sure I put a bullet in your skull.”

Vigilante’s voice lowers to a playful whisper as he brings his masked face near the side of your head. “I didn’t even get to hear you scream last night.” His right hand grips your neck and he can feel the adrenaline in his veins blending with something else. He rocks his knee against the warm softness between your legs, his jaw clenching when he feels the blood rushing to his groin.

Your hand slips into the space between the chair cushion and the arm. In seconds, you have a hunting knife pressed against his neck. The name “Adrian” almost slips out, but you stop yourself and spread your thighs a little more so you can lean towards him. “Vigilante. Back off.”

“Oh no! Am I too close to you?” He takes the opportunity to push his knee tighter against you. His blood is pumping hot, the bulge in his suit is more noticeable, but he doesn’t care. As far as he knows, you still don’t know his secret identity. If he wanted to fuck you on this chair, he could do it without taking off his mask and you’d never know who he was!

“I’m cursed…okay? That’s why I can’t stay dead!” This is the most bizarre interrogation you’ve ever encountered. You’ve had fingers cut off before, you’ve been choked out until you lost consciousness, you’ve even had nails shot into your skull with a nail gun when you were being tortured. None of that can compare to the weirdly intimate interrogation that’s taking place right now.

“You’re cursed? That doesn’t make any sense! If you were cursed, why would you keep coming back?”

“I am! I can’t die until I wipe out the entire bloodline of the piece of shit that killed my family!” You’re squirming, your hand still pressing the hunting knife against his neck and your other hand gripping the arm of the chair. You’re trying to determine the best way to get some space between you. If you can just get over the back of the chair, you can use it as a shield to keep him from getting to you, but you’ve seen how fast he can move.

“That sounds like the edgy backstory for a character in a D&D campaign!”

“I’m serious! My family was killed by Jonathan Crane! Well…more like, he was the cause of their death. A serial killer hopped up on his fear gas slaughtered my entire family in front of me and I barely made it out alive. So, until I can kill everyone in Crane’s bloodline, I’m cursed to keep reviving every time I die.”

Vigilante leans back a little and tilts his head. “That doesn’t answer how you got cursed.”

“When I was bleeding to death in my burning house, I heard a voice in my head asking if I wanted revenge. I was pissed off so, obviously, I said “yes”. The next thing I knew, I was stable enough to move and I cut off the serial killer’s head, but Crane…Crane was the root cause of my family’s death. I’ve been tracking down his relatives through genealogy websites and taking them out. Last night, I was only going to kill Roger Crane, one of his distant cousins. But I didn’t expect there to be so many witnesses and…”

“What? So are you immortal until you kill them all?”

“I don’t know if I’m going to age. I’ve only been doing this for a few years,” you admit, looking off to the side. You’re not telling him the whole truth. You’re being vague about the “spirit” that “cursed” you because you know better than to lay everything out to a stranger.

“Wow. That really does sound like an edgy backstory for a D&D character. That’s the kind of backstory a newbie would come up with.” Vigilante steps back, bringing his knee away from your warm thighs. “So what happens when you kill the last one? You just drop dead?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been saving the Scarecrow for last since he’s in Arkham. The past few years, I’ve been picking off his distant relatives so I wouldn’t draw too much attention to myself.”

“Holy shit! You meant the Scarecrow?! How are you even going to get to him?”

“People break out of Arkham all the time. I just have to wait for Bane to go berserk or something and bust a hole in the wall to let everyone out.” You lower your knife and carefully get out of the chair, sidling around him. “Speaking of breaking out of places, how did you get into my house?”

Vigilante cocks his head to the side. “Well, the first time I broke in, I busted one of your basement windows. You know that one behind the bush in your side yard? I smashed it with a brick and crawled into the basement.”

“There goes my deposit when I move. And what do you mean the first time?” You have your guard up, your eyes staying locked on him as you get near the doorway to the hall. “How did you get in the second time?”

“Well, after the first time, I just changed the lock on your back door so I can get in without breaking another window.” He says it like it’s not a big deal, almost as if he’s proud of himself. “Don’t worry! I’m the only one with the key!”

“I don’t want you to have a key to my place! You killed me last night!”

“Because you stole my kills!” Vigilante crosses his arms and he leans on his right hip. “Look, I’m going to help you. But only because I can see how desperate you are!”

You didn’t ask for his help. You don’t want any help. For the past few years, you’ve been perfectly fine with working alone and taking out members of Crane’s family one by one. It’s been easy, it’s been simple. Letting someone else get involved is only going to complicate things, but you can tell that arguing won’t get you anywhere.

He's insane. He’s more than proved it. Trying to reason with him will be like talking to a brick wall. All you can really do is accept his “help”, as long as he stays out of your way. At least he’s skilled, so you know you won’t have to babysit him and protect him in a fight.

“Partners?” he asks, holding out a hand.

“Fine. We’re…partners,” you agree. Getting closer, you take his hand and you see his free arm moving. You duck, narrowly avoiding a swipe of a knife.

Vigilante laughs, shaking his head and flipping the knife in his hand. “Relax! I was just double-checking your reflexes! You know, I didn’t get to see you in action last night. I just got to see the aftermath.” Letting go of your hand, he taps the tip of his knife against his palm. “We should go patrolling together so I can really see you fight.”

“Yeah…maybe.” You’ve been wary this entire time, but now you’re hyper alert of every little move he makes. “I’ll let you know the next time I have a Crane to take out.”

“Oh yeah! Got a pen? I’ll give you my number.” He doesn’t wait for you to respond and he goes into the kitchen to start rummaging around. Vigilante writes his phone number down on some old mail and then tosses the pen to you. “Give me your number.”

It’s surreal. Standing in your kitchen, writing your phone number down on a scrap of paper with a masked man hovering nearby. The same masked man that shot you in the head last night. The fact that he switched from trying to slash you with a knife to suddenly asking for your number, like you’re just two people who hit it off in a bar on a Friday night, is giving you whiplash.

As soon as Vigilante leaves, you sink into the armchair again and rub your face with your hands. Your fingertips graze the scar left by the bullet hole he made. At the back of your mind, there’s a voice grumbling and you can feel the pulsing heat of rage emanating from the presence attached to you.

Vigilante…Adrian Chase…doesn’t know the full truth about what gave you the ability to revive. He needs to just believe the edgy backstory that you gave him because the truth would be too fucked up to share. Too fucked up to probably believe.

You didn’t ask for this partnership, but there’s some tiny part of you that’s intrigued. He’s insane, didn’t even question you about your conscience or if you’ve killed innocent Cranes, but that insanity makes him the ideal person for you to partner with. There’s a part of you that’s actually looking forward to seeing him again.

Chapter Text

You’re in the middle of a nightmare about the past. Blood running down the side of your face and blinding your right eye, that awful tickle in your chest that makes you cough up bursts of red onto the floor. Your fingertips getting rubbed raw as you drag your wounded body across the rough floorboards, unable to support your weight on a shattered kneecap. The unbearable heat of the fire around you, your lungs burning from the intensity of it and sweat stinging your skin.

What violently drags you out of the nightmare is the snarling voice of that presence, echoing in your skull. Cold and deep, in a language that no human mouth could speak, but you can understand the meaning behind the words. It’s a furious demand for you to open your eyes.

The second your eyelids lift, as soon as consciousness returns to you, you try to press yourself further against the bed. Straddling your hips is a masked figure. He’s unarmed, but he doesn’t move when you stare up at him. He just tilts his head to the side, like he thinks it’s interesting that you’re awake.

You can feel sweat drying on your skin, your heart still pounding in your chest from the residual fear. The idea that this maniac was perched on your hips, watching you toss and turn with a nightmare, is mortifying. Heat rises to your face when you remember that this is Adrian. Your coworker, the cute busboy from Fennel Fields, is sitting on your hips and pinning you down on your bed.

“Vigilante? What are you doing?” It’s a miracle that you’re able to speak calmly because on the inside, you’re a flustered mess. Your pulse is racing and your stomach is twisting into nervous knots as you try to distract yourself from the weight on your hips.

“You move around a lot when you sleep.” Vigilante leans back a little and crosses his arms. “I’m surprised you didn’t wake up when I broke the door open. Why’d you lock your bedroom door? It’s not like you have roommates.”

Sliding a hand beneath your pillow, you close your fingers around the grip of a santoku knife. “Off,” you say, lifting your hips.

“Hey! Don’t grind on me!” His knees dig into your hips and he leans forward, grabbing your headboard with one hand to steady himself. “I’m not here for that! I came to pick you up!”

“What?” There’s another rush of blood straight to your cheeks. Staring up at him, you try to focus on his eyes through the red visor of his mask. “I wasn’t planning to go after another Crane until-”

“Until today. I went on one of those ancestry websites and I made a list of Cranes in our area that don’t even have the same last name! We could kill them without anyone getting suspicious! And I have the perfect Crane for us to go after next.” Vigilante’s voice is laced with excitement, bordering on giddiness.

Releasing the knife under your pillow, you turn your head to the side. The alarm clock says that it’s one o’clock in the morning. One o’clock in the morning on a Friday. Does he expect you to break in and kill a Crane while they’re asleep? He seems a little too excited for it to be as simple as smothering someone with a pillow. You can feel his excitement pressing down against you.

“I guess we can go, but I need to get ready.” You’re relieved when he finally lifts himself off your hips, but now he’s looking at the graphic novels on your bookshelf. At least it gives you a little time to regain your composure.

“I don’t want to ruin the surprise, but this is going to be a blast!” He looks back at you over his shoulder while he pulls a book off the shelf, making it clear that he’s not going to give you privacy while you change.

You have practice with getting ready quickly. Black pants, a black shirt with long sleeves and a hood, dark gray gloves, a set of tinted goggles perched on the top of your head, a gaiter settled around your neck that you can pull up as soon as you need to. Then comes the belt, the multiple knives and sheathes, the boots, and the tenderizer at your hip.

The whole time, you can feel your heart pounding with a blend of nervousness and anticipation. Now that you know he’s Adrian, you can’t help picturing his face every time he talks. You can only imagine how awkward it’s going to be when you go to work tomorrow.

That voice is speaking again, echoing from the back of your skull. Jealousy, fury, bloodlust. You can’t speak the same language as the entity, but you’re trying to silently reassure it as you follow Vigilante through your house to the back door. The fact that he’s casually strolling through the house like he lives there just increases the presence’s irritation.

Vigilante feels almost giddy with anticipation. He’s been riding a high since he left your house earlier. The only other person he’s ever killed with is Peacemaker and, obviously, this is different. You’re a woman. His cute coworker that always smiles at him and says “hello”. The fact that you can cave a guy’s skull in with a meat hammer just makes you that much cooler!

As soon as you’re in the passenger seat and the car is pulling away from your house, he finally makes his announcement. “It’s just a three-hour drive, then we’ll park and wait a few hours.”

“What?! Hang on! Ad-! Vigilante, you said we were going after one that’s in the area! I thought you meant they lived on the other side of town!” You’re grabbing the door handle and he speeds up, the car zooming past the blinking traffic lights.

“I didn’t say they were in town! Just think of it as a road trip!” He can tell you’re still nervous, but he doesn’t really care. When you’re stabbing this Crane’s chest full of holes, you’ll want to thank him! “So how does the curse work? Do you have to kill the Crane yourself or can we double-team them?”

“Uh…I’m not sure. I’ve just been doing it on my own,” you admit. Accepting the fact that he’s not slowing down or pulling over, you settle back into your seat and look at your reflection in the side mirror. “Is it safe to drive with that mask? What if you get pulled over?”

“I’m not taking it off. Do you know how many people probably want to know my secret identity? At least five! I can’t risk it.” Vigilante gets onto the highway. A dusty stretch of road, passing fields under the dark and starry expanse of night sky. “What’s your alias? I can’t use your real name if someone might hear it.”

You’re turning in your seat to look at him. “I don’t have one. Everyone that sees me like this dies so I don’t have to worry about my identity getting exposed.”

“Oh my god! Am I your first survivor? That’s hilarious!” He laughs and shakes his head, catching a glimpse of you rubbing your face with your hands. “Wait a minute! Were you going to kill me? If I didn’t shoot you in the head, was I next?”

“I can’t leave any witnesses,” you argue, turning away from him and pulling up your gaiter. “If someone saw me and they talked, I might end up in prison and I’d have to put everything on hold. And when they realized I can’t die, or if I don’t age, I might end up in Belle Reve. That’s if I kept quiet about the whole “curse” thing because that would get me landed in Arkham.”

He slaps the steering wheel, shaking his head again. “Yeah. Your back story is pretty crazy.”

There’s a long stretch of time without conversation. The only sound in the car is Vigilante humming to himself and bobbing his head side to side. The car passes a field where there’s a herd of deer grazing.

You lose track of time, but you tense up when you watch a sign for the next county speed past the passenger window. A look over at Vigilante shows him still swaying to the music in his head, absurdly energized considering that the sun hasn’t even started to rise yet. “Hey…how long are we going to be gone?”

“It’s three hours to drive there, three hours to drive back, and we have to wait a few hours for the perfect time to strike. So...”

“So I should probably call in sick,” you finish for him.

When he replies, you can hear the smile in his tone. “Yeah, you should call in sick. But this is better than working a shift on a Friday, right? You know how crazy it gets on Fridays! Come on! It’s just you and me on an open road! This is the perfect time to get to know each other, partner! What should we talk about? You’ve been pretty quiet for the past half hour. I know! What’s your favorite way to take someone out?”

It's not the kind of ice-breaker you’d usually expect, but you can’t argue that it’s interesting. Vigilante’s enthusiasm is almost contagious. You’re smiling behind the gaiter and relax a bit.

As macabre as it is, there’s a part of you that feels relieved that he wants to talk about what you do. You’ve been working alone for the past few years. Well…not completely alone. The entity is getting angry that you’re happy, but you ignore its snarled commands to stay quiet.

“It’s easier if I can get them with the tenderizer first,” you start, resting your chin in your hand and staring out the window. “One, maybe two clean hits to knock them out. If I do more than two, then it gets messy, but it’s easier to actually kill them if I can knock them out first. When I started doing this, I had a stun gun, but it doesn’t pack the same punch as a tenderizer and…”

“It’s more satisfying to hear their skull crunch. Right?” Vigilante is looking at you, ignoring the road even though he’s driving at least seventy miles per hour. “You know you like it,” he teases, smiling under his mask. “It’s like popping bubble wrap! You can’t stop at one!”

This is fun. He’s passing the time with you, talking about past kills and comparing kill counts. That’s how he finds out that beyond your regeneration and resurrection abilities, you’re just a normal girl. You don’t have insane strength or speed. You’ve only been doing this for a few years and you’ve just been learning as you go. It’s insane!

“When I’m face to face with one of the Scarecrow’s relatives, it’s like…my brain changes.” You’re trying to explain it to Vigilante, but it’s obvious that there’s something you’re holding back. “Like, I stop worrying about being caught and the only thing in my head is “kill”.”

“It’s that killer instinct,” he insists, ecstatic to find someone that understands. “People like us were just made for this.”

That’s a pretty fucked up idea and you want to argue with him. You want to say that the first few times were difficult, that you’d felt so disgusted afterwards that you’d puked your guts out and cried yourself to sleep…but that would be a lie. Whether it was the influence of the presence attached to you or if it’s just some deep, dark part of yourself that awakened after your family’s death, you haven’t had any issues with what you’re doing.

You never would’ve guessed that Adrian would be so cool with this kind of stuff. You never thought you’d let anyone know what you’re doing because, honestly, any sane person would run away. Any sane person would think you’re a monster, they’d think you were out of your mind. He not only accepts the fact that this is just something you need to do, but he seems ecstatic about helping you. A smile settles on your face, deciding that Adrian really must be crazy.

“Hey, so about that spirit thing that cursed you,” Vigilante speaks up. “Was that like a ghost of a family member or something?”

The entity growls a response, the sound echoing in your brain, and you wince. You’re not going to let him know what it just said about him. “It’s…something,” you reply, still trying to be vague. The truth about the entity’s origins, its reason for giving you the ability to revive and regenerate, isn’t something you’re willing to explain to him. Not yet.

Chapter Text

All of the houses look exactly the same. You’re following Vigilante as he strolls along the dark metal fence, not even sure if he knows which house you’re supposed to be looking for. When he said he had the perfect Crane picked out for your first co-op kill, you definitely weren’t expecting something like this.

A doctor’s wife, tucked away in a multi-story house inside of a gated community. He showed you her Facebook before you left the car. She just looks like your typical suburban housewife. Perfectly dyed and styled hair, perfectly manicured nails, posting about how blessed she is, putting up photos of her with local charities and talking about event planning.

This is wrong, right? From the outside looking in, you both look like maniacs for going after someone like her. That voice at the back of your mind argues, declaring that it has to be done. Every member of Jonathan Crane’s bloodline has to die if you ever want to be free from the curse.

It’s like a drug, like a sedative almost. Pushing any hint of guilt aside to replace it with murderous intent. Images flash in your mind from that horrific, fucked up day that you lost everyone, and you look at Vigilante. “All of these houses look the same. Do you know-?”

“Here it is! It has to be this one,” he announces, stopping a few feet in front of you. Vigilante grabs the thick metal bars of the fence and presses his visor into the open space between them. There’s no way he can actually push himself through the fence, but he’s looking at something. “See that grill? That’s the same one from the barbecue picture she posted last week!”

“So how do we get in?” Glancing up and down the span of the fence, you don’t see any openings. The only gate is the one with the guard booth and you doubt Vigilante can convince the guard to let you in. The fence isn’t really built for climbing, for obvious reasons.

“Give me a boost.” When you don’t immediately crouch down for him to step into your hands, Vigilante crosses his arms. “Come on! I just need a boost up to the top. Then I can straddle that horizontal bar at the top and pull you up!”

“Are you sure you’ll be able to pull me up?” You’re looking at the top bar with skepticism, but you crouch down and let him step into your hands. You don’t have super strength, but the entity’s influence does give you more strength than the average person so you’re able to lift Vigilante.

It’s a struggle for you both to get over the top of the fence and you vaguely wonder how you’re going to get back out as you touch down in the backyard. It’s just unfortunate for you both that at that same moment, the sliding glass door to the porch opens. There’s a woman standing there in a short pink bathrobe and heels, holding a mimosa in her hand and watching you both with a smirk.

“Oh, shit!” Vigilante tenses beside you and reaches behind him for a knife on his belt.

You hesitate. This is your target Patricia, but she doesn’t seem scared. She doesn’t seem phased at all to see two strangers in her backyard. Something isn’t right. Does she know why you’re there and she’s just waiting for the police to show up? Or is something else going on? Maybe she’s on Xanax?

“Well, don’t just stand there! Come on up!” she calls, lifting her glass. Patricia walks out onto the porch and glances at the houses on either side of hers.

“What the fuck is this?” you whisper to Vigilante, but he’s already walking up to the porch. You don’t want to get too close too soon. That singular command “kill” is already starting to cloud your thoughts and you’re fighting the urge to grab your hammer and start swinging.

Patricia beams when you both step onto the porch and she leads you into her kitchen. The woman is swaying her hips as she walks, casting a glance back over her shoulder every so often. “You two are so cute! I like this whole costume thing you’ve got going on! What’re you supposed to be? One of those Power Rangers and a ninja? See, me? I don’t have any care to cover up my face. Might as well let everyone see, if they’re getting to see everything else, you know? But I respect that! If you want to stay anonymous, that’s totally up to you!”

She pauses for a second as she looks towards the living room, where other voices are coming from, and then she turns her smile to you and Vigilante again. “Now, you are here for the “Tupperware Party”, right? You saw my ad on my private Facebook? Don’t tell me you’re a couple of lost Make a Wish volunteers for that kid down the street-”

“Yeah. We’re here for the Tupperware Party,” Vigilante interrupts. He’s trying not to laugh. He’s trying so hard not to laugh, because he’s looking around this lady’s house at her beige and cream-colored color scheme decorating and he’s imagining how it’s going to look when it’s splattered with her blood. Sure, he could just whip out a handgun or a knife and take her out right now, but where’s the fun in that?

Now he puts a hand on your shoulder and tugs you closer to him. “I’m Vigilante and this is my partner Bunny.”

“Ooooh! You even have cute little nicknames!” She’s looking you up and down now, raising an eyebrow. “You said they’re your partner? Well, alright. That might be a little exotic for this party, but I bet they’ll be someone’s cup of tea. Let me introduce you to everyone else.”

Vigilante didn’t know about the “Tupperware Party” or Patricia’s private Facebook page. He sure as fuck wasn’t expecting the living room to be full of horny creeps. Within seconds of being introduced, a couple of cougars are trying to get close to him. “Hey! No, hang on!” He glances from them to you and what he sees finally makes him snap.

You’ve already been backed into a corner by a guy that’s way too close for his liking. He doesn’t just see some creep that’s lifting a hand to try to feel you up through your shirt. No, Vigilante is imagining that line cook from the restaurant that wanted to drive you home. He’s seeing the face of the same fucking guy that keeps flirting with you at work every single day. Just as the guy’s hand is about to touch your breast, Vigilante moves.

Across the room, you’re pressing yourself into a corner. Stomach churning with disgust as a guy closes in on you, talking about wanting to see what you’re hiding under so many layers. Your pulse is racing, your eyes flicking between him and Patricia from behind your goggles. The woman is smirking as she sips her mimosa, but that smirk abruptly shifts to a look of sheer horror as a knife drives deep into the skull of the guy that was going to grope you.

Screams erupt around the room and you know that it’s now or never. As Vigilante yanks his knife out of the man’s skull, you charge in Patricia’s direction. Two male party guests grab your arms to try to stop you, but you manage to thrash an arm free. The entity in the back of your skull bellows a command and your free hand moves to the tenderizer hanging on your belt.

Blood splatters the once pristine white carpet, teeth falling to the floor as one man reels back with a broken jaw. The man holding your other arm tries to move away, releasing you, but it’s too late. It just takes one swift strike and a sickening crunch of skull as you cave in the side of his head. The tenderizer is gooey with fresh blood, dripping onto the carpet as you turn your attention back to Patricia.

Vigilante is already covering your back. While you were taking out those two men, he stopped one of the women from drawing a gun from her purse on the floor. Another is sitting slumped against the wall, blood running from her mouth and a deep wound in the center of her chest. It’s when he hears the security alarm going off that he smirks. He didn’t give you all of the info on this lady before you left the car.

Patricia isn’t just some suburban housewife; she’s a drug dealer. Getting prescription drugs from her husband, dealing them out to other housewives and even getting people hooked on the harsh shit. So, Vigilante is ecstatic about getting to dole out some justice while he helps you with your revenge.

Even better than getting to kill a drug dealer? He gets to see you in action! The way you swung that tenderizer into that guy’s jaw? You have no idea how hard that got him! Now he’s watching you sprint after Patricia with your arm drawn back, ready to smash the back of her skull. If he can see the killing blow…

It’s as you disappear out of his line of sight that he hears a pounding at the door. There are still a few party guests left. A few guys that look smug, thinking they’ve been saved. A quick gun draw takes them out and he stands tensed in the living room, the pounding at the door getting louder. He can hear the security guards shouting to open up and his lips spread into a grin beneath his mask.

You have no idea how many rooms this place has so you do everything in your power to keep Patricia in your line of sight. As long as she doesn’t make it outside, you should be fine. Even though you can hear the alarm blaring, hear the security guards breaking down the front door. The “kill” command keeps you tenaciously focused on the housewife as she runs up the stairs, following her at a sprint.

Right as you reach the top of the stairs, you find yourself staring at an open doorway directly across from where you’re standing. Sitting in that room, on the edge of a bed, is a man in his twenties with a shotgun pointed in your direction. Before you can say or do anything, pain explodes in your abdomen and your body flies backwards. Grabbing for the railing is futile, your body already tumbling down the stairs to the first floor with blood pooling beneath you.

The front of your shirt is speckled with holes and that awful, painfully familiar tickle can be felt in your chest along with the buckshot buried in your flesh. Coughing and spilling blood down your chin, you struggle to push yourself up on your elbows. The entity is working to repair the damage and pushing the buckshot out of your body, but every breath feels like knives stabbing into your lungs. The force of the fall probably broke a few ribs and you just hope the spirit heals those, too.

There’s a fight happening in the living room and you can hear Vigilante’s voice, but your attention quickly shifts to the top of the stairs. That bastard is standing there now, reloading his shotgun as Patricia comes up beside him with a smirk. She drapes an arm around his shoulders and whispers something in his ear.

Before he can shoot at you again, you twist away from the bottom of the stairs and dart down the hallway on the first floor. Passing the living room, you get a brief glimpse of Vigilante beating a guy’s face into a pulpy mess. You’re not running away. You just need to get some distance to rethink your strategy.

Your back is aching, your nose is bleeding, but you can breathe without coughing up blood onto the front of your shirt. Ducking into the kitchen, you can hear Patricia’s voice echoing from down the stairs. Taunting you, mocking you. It sends you hurtling back to a memory of fire and pain. Lying helpless and broken on the floor as that monster slaughtered your parents in front of you before turning his attention to your younger sibling.

Fury courses through your veins and your jaw clenches. You have to go back. You have to kill Patricia, even if you take a few more shots to the chest. As long as that asshole doesn’t manage to land a headshot, you should be able to get through this. Besides, you can’t let him turn that shotgun on Adrian next.

Grabbing a chef’s knife from the block on the counter, you charge down the hallway just as the shotgun guy appears at the bottom of the stairs. Adrenaline keeps you moving, even as a fresh round of buckshot fills your abdomen with more holes. There’s blood soaking your shirt, lungs burning as they fill with it, and you grit your teeth to keep yourself from coughing.

Before he can try anything else, you draw back the knife and lunge. The blade sinks deep into his chest, breaking through bone with the force of your strike, and he stumbles backwards. Letting him, you take your tenderizer into your hand again and swing as hard as you can in an uppercut. There’s a sickening gurgle from him as he falls back onto the floor, jaw broken as tears and mucus pour down his face.

Vigilante finishes up in the living room and steps into the hallway just in time to see the finishing blow. He’s grinning beneath his mask as he watches you descend on the guy. Straddling his waist and grabbing the handle of the knife to yank it out and begin plunging it back into the man’s chest over and over in a stomach-churning, squelching rhythm.

His head turns as he hears running footsteps and lifts his handgun, sending a shot into Patricia’s thigh before she can reach the door. She falls to the floor with a loud thud and a shriek. He pouts a little, wanting to take her out himself, but he doesn’t know if that would fuck up your revenge. So, as tempting as it is to just put a bullet in her head and call it good, he knows what he has to do.

He jogs over to her and crouches down to grab her ankle. Humming to himself, he drags her across the floor and drops her next to the shotgun guy. “There you go. Let’s get this done before the cops show up.”

You nod, getting off of the now unmoving shotgun wielder. The second that Patricia sees the state of him, she starts sobbing and screaming. Somewhere deep beneath the pain and rage, you know this is fucked up. This is super fucked up. There’s no fighting back, though, now that she’s in front of you. The spirit’s voice is shouting at the back of your skull and you lift your tenderizer.

Twenty minutes later, you’re sitting in the passenger seat with Vigilante behind the wheel. You’re both covered in blood and the worst of your injuries have healed, but you know you’re going to have bruises. After being dragged out of your house before sunrise, after taking out way more people than you anticipated, you’re exhausted.

In the driver’s seat, Vigilante can feel fatigue catching up with him, too. You got at least a few hours of sleep last night, but he didn’t. Normally, the adrenaline from the kill would keep him pumped for a few hours after, but he feels drained.

By the time he parks in your driveway, he can barely stay awake. He’s sore, a little bit bruised from a few hits he took during the fight, but when he looks at you, you look way worse. He can see your skin through the holes in your shirt, the blood dried and clumping the fabric against your chest.

“Fuck! That was insane, right? Who even was that guy with the shotgun? That wasn’t her husband!” He laughs and shakes his head as you open the car door.

“Come on.” You lean down to look him in the eyes through his visor. “I have a spare room. You can take a nap or use my first aid kit, if you need to.”

“What? Seriously?”

You smile tiredly. “Well, we are partners, right? Come on.”

Chapter Text

There’s a burning, painful pressure all through your chest as you open your eyes. You can feel cushioning beneath you, but your legs are bent and tucked to the side. Right above you is the roof of Vigilante’s car and you can feel the cold air coming in through the open windows as the car speeds down a rural highway.

The radio is off, but you can hear Vigilante humming in the driver’s seat. The last thing you remember is approaching the farm of Jebediah Crane, your target for the night, and getting blown apart after you had the misfortune of triggering an explosive trap. At least it seems like he just gathered up your parts and escaped instead of stupidly trying to kill the Crane himself.

Lifting your head, you can see that your legs have already reattached. Thankfully, Vigilante put them in the right spots. Your right arm is missing from the elbow down and a look at your left arm shows it missing a hand, but they’re regenerating. Which is fantastic because it looks like Vigilante wasn’t able to grab them before loading you into the backseat. You’re just lucky that the entity prefers you have all of your body parts.

That horrific burning sensation in your chest is the feeling of your flesh knitting back together. Looking down, you can see that your shirt was ripped open. You can guess what happened there. Your chest was probably ripped open by the blast, lungs punctured and ribcage shattered, but it seems like the entity prioritized healing that injury first.

It makes you a little nauseous to see your right arm growing back, to see the bone extending on your left wrist to regrow your hand. Worse yet is the stretching sensation of your skin growing and spreading over the fresh bone, muscle, and nerves. You manage to prop yourself up against the door and look at Vigilante in the front seat.

“How long was I out?” You wince when he looks back, his attention dragged away from the stretch of open highway ahead of him.

“Twenty minutes? I saw your head fly like thirty feet away from your body! That was insane! I had to leave your hand and your arm because there was a cow charging at us. Hey! Did you know that more people get killed by cows than sharks every year?”

“Twenty minutes?” Glancing at the clock, you can see that it’s a little after midnight. “Wait. Did you say my head flew off?”

“Yeah! It was pretty fucked up! I had to tuck it under my arm when I was carrying you and I got your blood all over my suit.” The car pulls off onto the shoulder and Vigilante turns in the front seat so he’s facing you more. His head tilts, his expression hidden beneath his mask. “Are you okay? Your head reattached when I put all of your parts together, but fuck.”

Vigilante isn’t going to say he was worried. Do you have any idea how uncool that would sound? He’s not going to tell you that he was afraid you were actually dead. He’s not going to tell you that he pulled over a short distance from the farm and just held your severed head in his hands, looking at your lifeless eyes and searching for signs of life. That would make him sound pretty weak, wouldn’t it?

It's not like he was going to cry if you didn’t come back to life. It just would’ve sucked. A lot. The past few weeks have been fucking amazing for him. Going out with you once or twice a week to kill a Crane, taking you out patrolling with him at night to take down petty criminals and vandals. He’s always so hyped when he gets to hang out with you so…if you actually died….

“Thanks for putting me back together.” It’s a quiet thank you and you look away from him, staring out the opposite window in the backseat. The night sky is dotted with stars and if you squint, you can see the silhouettes of five deer in the field across the street. You can hear the entity snarling at the back of your mind, annoyed that you managed to get blown up and furious that you’d needed Vigilante’s help.

“Come on! We’re partners, right?” Vigilante starts the car again and pulls back onto the highway.

“Yeah.” There’s a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you close your eyes. Your freshly regenerated fingers twitch and flex in your lap. You just need some time. A little time to figure out a better way to get to Jebediah Crane, without triggering another trap. Honestly, you still can’t believe that guy rigged explosives around the perimeter of his farm.

In the front seat, Vigilante is humming again and it’s a song you recognize right away. Something that was playing in the kitchen at Fennel Fields earlier. Something you heard Adrian humming when he walked past you to clear a table.

“My manager called me today to ask if I’m alright.” Your eyelids lift, your gaze shifting to Vigilante. “They’re worried because every time I call in sick, one of the busboys calls in, too. He’s been telling them that he can’t come in because he’s taking care of his sick girlfriend.”

In the front seat, Vigilante’s eyes flick to the rearview mirror to look at you. “Really? That’s crazy!” There’s forced surprise in his voice, bordering on sarcasm.

“They even asked if I’m dating him and when I said “no”, they said he might be stalking me.” Now you’re pushing yourself to sit up, draping an arm around the front of the passenger seat beside him. “My landlady said that the neighbors have been seeing a guy that looks like him walking past my house on my days off. Like, multiple times throughout the day.”

“And that’s a problem why? You don’t know that he’s stalking you! Besides, maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. Maybe you’re intimidating and he’s just trying to figure out what to say to you. Did you think of that?”

“I’m intimidating?”

“Hey! I know what you’re trying to do! You’re trying to trick me into saying something so you can accuse me of being him, but I’m not! I don’t even know what he looks like! He probably looks totally different!”

For a moment, you’re tempted to point out the fact that you know he’s Adrian. Instead, you settle into the backseat and look at your freshly grown hands. You’ve never lost that much before, so it’s surreal to see the shiny new flesh. “He’s cute.” It’s a quiet admission and his reaction sends you flying across the back seat when he almost swerves off the highway.

Your face smacks against the cold glass of the window and you can instantly feel blood gushing from your nose in a hot, coppery stream. Putting a hand over your nose, you look back at Vigilante as he straightens the car. “Vigilante-?!”

“What’s cute about him? What? Does he go out of his way to help you out a lot? Does he make sure no one swipes your tips when you don’t grab them fast enough?” There’s an edge to his voice as the car accelerates.

Climbing into the passenger seat beside him, you find a tissue box on the floor and try to stop your nose from painting the front seat with your blood. “I just think he’s cute. He’s sweet, I like his glasses, I like talking to him at work.”

“So it wouldn’t be a problem if he wanted to ask you out and he just doesn’t know how to! Like I said, he might not even be stalking you. He might just be a concerned citizen that wants to make sure you’re okay!”

You can’t really take any more injuries right now and the presence at the back of your skull is snarling what you can only imagine to be ancient insults directed at Vigilante. Instead of pushing him, you nod and keep trying to soak up as much blood as you can with a wad of tissues. “Where are we-?”

“Even if he did ask you out, it’s not like you have any free time anyway. You’re too busy hanging out with me! You wouldn’t pick a guy like him over me, right? I mean, come on! He couldn’t help you kick ass like I can!”

You’re still nodding, settling into the passenger seat and mopping up the last of the blood. “Yeah. He probably wouldn’t be cool with the whole “killing Jonathan Crane’s entire bloodline” thing.”

“Exactly! See, that’s why we’re perfect together! No one else would get it, but I do!” Beneath his mask, Vigilante is grinning. “And you get me.”

He’s trying not to think about that surge of adrenaline he felt when you called him cute, but fuck did it get his blood pumping! Vigilante already loves watching you obliterate people’s skulls, but knowing that you think he’s cute? It’s a different kind of high. Different from the rush he gets when he’s killing in the name of justice, different from the turn on of helping you slaughter Cranes.

He’s fine with driving in silence, shifting his focus to the Jebediah Crane problem. The old guy rigged the perimeter of his farm with explosives so the next time you go back, you’ll have to attack from the front unless he can disarm the traps. That might eat up a lot of time and if he does it wrong, boom!

A frontal attack would be crazy. He knows the guy is armed; the man is using that farm as a front for making meth. Not to mention the fact that Jebediah definitely heard the explosion when you got blown up.

In the passenger seat, you’re resting your head against the window. Looking out the windshield as he turns off the highway. You look like hell, but he fucking loves it. Dried blood, hair messed up, your shirt ripped open at the front. He stops thinking about the road for a little while and thinks about pulling you into the driver’s seat so you’ll be straddling his lap. He can feel himself getting stiff, imagining your thighs squeezing his hips and your arms wrapped around his neck.

“Holy shit, Ad-! Vigilante!” You reach over, grabbing the steering wheel and turning sharply to veer away from the trailer that the car is speeding towards.

He slams on the brakes, sending up a cloud of dust as the car comes to a screeching halt. You fall against his shoulder and he can’t help but laugh. “You should see your face right now! You totally thought I was going to drive straight into his trailer!”

Vigilante shakes his head, still laughing, and gets out of the car. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He jogs around the side of the trailer he almost hit, disappearing from sight.

You slouch in the passenger seat, feeling almost embarrassed that you got scared. That’s the third time you’ve embarrassed yourself tonight. The first being when you got caught in that explosion and the second being when you told him you think he’s cute. He is cute, but holy shit is he insane! Vigilante gathered up your severed body parts and pieced you back together! Who else could even stomach that?

Maybe crazy is what you need, though. Maybe that insanity is why you mesh so well together. He’s out of his mind and you’re…whatever you are. An undying maniac with a thirst for Crane blood?

A few minutes pass before something occurs to you. Why are you in a trailer park? What is he doing in there? You should be at home, talking about how you’re going to get around those traps. Instead, you’re sitting in Vigilante’s car and watching a stray cat spray on the side of the trailer he disappeared behind.

The second that the trailer door opens, you can feel your pulse accelerating. There’s a figure standing there, silhouetted by the light behind him in the trailer. Broad-shouldered, muscular, wearing a very recognizable helmet. You’ve never met the guy yourself, but you’ve heard of Peacemaker.

Vigilante slips around him, emerging from the trailer and jogging back to the car. Leaning down into the open driver’s side window, he nods his head towards the trailer. “Come on! We’re going to talk strategies and-”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously! Let’s go!” Beneath his mask, he’s grinning. You’ve been partners for almost a month! That has to be long enough for him to introduce you to his best friend!

Chapter Text

You’re not really sure what you expected Peacemaker’s place to look like. Honestly, it wasn’t really something you’d ever thought about because it just didn’t matter. Still, you didn’t expect it to be a sad little bachelor pad inside of a trailer park. The smell of stale beer hanging in the air, the crushed beer cans on the floor, the cassettes and vinyl record sleeves scattered everywhere.

You can barely hear the conversation between Vigilante and Peacemaker over the Poison album that’s blaring in the trailer. The words “tits”, “rack”, and “bang” come up a few times, but the thought of trying to get into that conversation is just a little too much. Letting your attention drift, you look around the trailer some more and every muscle tenses when you notice it.

On the far side of the trailer, there is a live eagle demolishing a bag of sweet and spicy ruffled potato chips. When it notices you staring, it spreads out its wings as much as it can and shrieks, ripping the bag open more with its talons. You quickly cease eye contact with the thing, darting your gaze back to Vigilante.

“Three weeks? Why didn’t you say anything?” Peacemaker cracks open a fresh can of beer and takes a long drink, his helmet settled on the coffee table in front of him.

“We were busy! Do you know how many times we’ve been going out and kicking ass during the week? It’s been awesome!”

“Yeah, but three weeks? Have you guys…you know?” The hero puts down his beer and makes a circle with one hand, sliding a finger in and out of it. “Don’t tell me you haven’t banged her yet.”

“Hey! Our relationship is built on more than sex! Our relationship is built on trust and churros and blood and guts! And dealing out justice to people that deserve it! Like that Tupperware lady. I’m pretty sure the tag on her SUV was expired, too! And it had MLM stickers on the bumper!”

You’re listening to them, leaning a little closer to hear them over the ringing of Poison bouncing off the walls in the trailer. “Wait. Are you talking about Patricia?”

“How can you look at a body like that, with tits like that, and not want to bang her?” Peacemaker gestures at you with his beer can. “You haven’t thought about taking her in the backseat and just-?” He thrusts his hips a little.

It feels like there’s fire spreading across your face beneath your gaiter. You look from him to Vigilante, but all you can see are his eyes. “Hang on! We’re just-!”

“We could do it! We could do it right now! I just don’t want to do it now that you’re trying to tell me to do it!” Vigilante crosses his arms and leans back in his seat. Through his visor, you can see him possibly trying to glare, but it’s barely even noticeable.

Peacemaker huffs and rolls his eyes. He turns his head, looking towards you now. “Bunny, you’re probably waiting on him to make the first move, right? That’s what the guy’s supposed to do.”

“Uh…huh?” Glancing at Vigilante, you realize that both of the guys are looking at you at this point. Even the eagle has stopped shredding that potato chip bag to stare in your direction. “I mean…I guess? But we’re just partners.”

“I know. Vigilante already told me. Look, I don’t care what you identify as. I’m cool. I just think it’s weird you haven’t done it yet.”

“No, wait a second! That isn’t…” You can feel a fresh wave of heat spreading across your face. A blend of frustration and confusion makes you look down for a moment, trying to sort this out. At the back of your mind, the entity is grumbling something in a heated tone and you can feel the intention behind those guttural, low words in a foreign tongue. Rage, bitterness, jealousy…confirming what Peacemaker insinuated.

“Vigilante, what are we?” You know the answer already, but you just want to hear it from him. You need to be absolutely sure about this. What does he think you are? He’s been calling you his partner this whole time, but you assumed he meant partner as in “partners in killing Cranes” or “partners in crimefighting”.

“Uh, we’re partners? We spend all of our free time together, I carry your body every time you die, I’ve slept over at your place a bunch of times! I even moved some of my stuff into your spare room!” He’s counting on his gloved fingers while he lists off a few more things and grins inside of his mask when he sees your eyes widen. “We’ve killed together, we’ve taken road trips together, I’ve seen you naked! The only thing we haven’t done yet is fuck.”

Somewhere along the way, Vigilante seems to have gotten confused. Interpreting “partners” in a different way than you initially agreed to, deciding on his own that you’re not just “partners in crimefighting”. In his head, you’re more than that. You’re in a relationship, you’re his.

You don’t know how long he’s been thinking that you’re more than just a pair of friends demolishing a super villain’s family tree, limb by limb. He hasn’t even admitted to you that he’s Adrian Chase! The presence in your skull begins to roar a series of garbled insults that sound more like animalistic snarls than real words, but you can feel the entity’s intense jealousy burning against the back of your brain like a hot brand.

“Okay, but how have you been together for three weeks and you still haven’t screwed her? We’ve fucked girls we picked up together and you didn’t even know their names!” Peacemaker leans forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Come on, man. Don’t say you need me to be there for you to get hard. Don’t make this weird.”

“First of all, gross. Why would I need to see you to get hard? Just because you happen to be there every time I bang someone, that doesn’t mean I swing that way. And I’m not sharing Bunny! I didn’t bring her here for a threesome! I just wanted to introduce my best friend to my girlfriend!”

“And we might need help with something,” you chime in, desperate to change the subject. The fact that you’ve apparently been dating Vigilante…Adrian…for the past month is still setting in and it’s probably something that the two of you need to discuss in private. “Right, Vigilante? We need to figure out how to get past those explosives…”

“Right! Yeah, we need some help. If Jebediah has the perimeter rigged with explosives, he probably has some other crazy shit going on there! Plus, he has that cow that tried to kill me! You know, cows kill more people than sharks do every year. Have you seen that video of that guy getting his ass wrecked by a bull goring him?!”

Peacemaker looks, expectedly, confused. “Who the hell is Jebediah?”

“Jebediah Crane! He’s a meth dealer from the next county and he hasn’t paid his property taxes in three years!”

You wordlessly leave the room, walking outside into the cool night air. The stray cat that was spraying on Peacemaker’s trailer is now sitting on top of Vigilante’s car. Taking a few steps forward, you sit on the edge of the steps up to the door and tip your head back to look at the starry night sky.

The conversation continues inside. Vigilante is excitedly telling Peacemaker about your curse, about how cool it is that you can’t die. He’s telling him the story about how you met, laughing when he talks about breaking into your house the day after he shot you in the head. It’s like a fucked up fairytale.

“So she has to kill everyone related to the Scarecrow and then the curse is broken? What happens after that? Is she going to just drop dead?”

“No idea!” Vigilante is stacking beer cans on the coffee table, carefully placing the last one at the top of the pyramid he just built.

“Isn’t that going to suck? Like really suck?” Peacemaker glances towards the open trailer door. “What if she just, you know, offs herself after she kills him?”

“What?! No way! She’s not going to kill herself!”

“Why is she so eager to kill off the Scarecrow and his family if she doesn’t want to die? She could just not do what she’s doing and keep living forever! Being immortal would be badass! Why would she want to stop it unless she has a reason why she wants to die?” He drains the rest of the beer can and crushes it in his hand. “What if she offs herself when she’s done?”

“I just won’t let her.” Vigilante pulls his hands away from the beer can pyramid and it crumbles apart, cans rolling off the table and dribbling the last drops of beer onto the floor. His shoulders droop a little and he picks one up, starting over.

He hasn’t really been thinking about it. Honestly, he kind of forgot about it until now. He’s been having so much fun killing with you that he forgot the end goal; killing the Scarecrow so you can lift the curse and be able to die. Why do you want to die?

Through his visor, he glances at the open doorway and he can see you sitting on the step. Vigilante was thinking about it earlier. The possibility of you dying and not reviving. Peacemaker is right, it would suck. He can’t go back to patrolling solo or just doing it when Peacemaker can go with him! That would be boring!

While he’s rebuilding the pyramid of cans, he’s thinking about all of the times you’ve gone back to your house together after a long night out. The familiar bubbling sound of your fish tank, the comfy bed in the guest room, the snack you usually leave in front of the door because you know he’s not going to take off his mask in front of you to eat or drink. He’d miss seeing you smile at him, whether it’s in Fennel Fields or when you’re out kicking ass together. He’d miss the way you say his name, he’d miss the way you just roll with whatever happens.

His voice lowers and he smirks beneath his mask. “I just won’t let her get to the Scarecrow. There! Problem solved!”

“You’re going to stop her from killing the Scarecrow? Even though that’s her whole thing?” Peacemaker raises an eyebrow, but he keeps his voice lowered. “How?”

“I just won’t let her. I’ll kill her and drag her off before I let her kill him. Besides, he’s locked up in Arkham now, right? All I have to do is keep her from getting into Arkham and she won’t be able to kill the Scarecrow. This is a foolproof plan!”

You can hear them, obviously. You’re only sitting like two feet away from the open trailer door and both of them are shouting to each other to be heard over Poison, even if they don’t seem to realize it. The entity chuckles and you can feel the corner of your lips twitch up into a smirk. Shaking your head, you lean forward with your elbows on your knees and watch as the stray cat on the hood of Vigilante’s car stretches.

This “not letting you kill the Scarecrow” thing is just another item to add to the growing list of stuff you need to talk to Vigilante about. That and the fact that, in his mind, you’ve been dating for the past month. Communication is tricky, especially with him. You’ve learned that you need to be careful about how you word things or he’ll completely misunderstand what you’re saying.

“Bunny, call in sick tomorrow. I don’t have anything going on, so the three of us can go take out that meth dealer in the afternoon.” Peacemaker’s voice comes from behind you in the doorway. When you turn to look up at him, he holds out a can of beer.

You hesitantly accept the can and look away as you tug down your gaiter. The beer is cold and, unlike what you expected, it’s smooth with just a hint of bitterness mingled with the hoppy aftertaste. “This isn’t the same brand that you’re drinking,” you point out immediately.

“Yeah, it’s some of the good stuff I save for when I have a lady over.” He sits beside you on the step, taking a long drink from his can and patting your knee. “I’m glad Vigilante’s got a girl like you. I get…not really worried, but anxious, when he’s on his own. It’s kind of like letting a dog off its leash.”

Taking another sip, you stare out at the dark and quiet trailer park. Behind you in the trailer, you can hear Vigilante humming as he stacks beer cans and it’s such a familiar sound to you now that it’s almost comforting. A genuine smile draws at your lips and you look down, a little sheepishly. “Yeah…I really like him,” you admit. It’s not so bad, right? The fact that he thinks you’ve been dating this whole time. You still need to have a talk about it, but you’re not angry. If anything, it makes things a little easier.

Chapter Text

It’s your day off. Your real day off, without you calling in sick. Normally, you would’ve woken up to find Vigilante already hanging out in the living room or he would’ve texted you that he’s on his way to pick you up. Instead, you’re waking up to a firm knocking at the front door.

As you groggily limp through the house, you rub at the bruises on your ribcage. Residual injuries from the unexpectedly difficult fight with Jebediah Crane and what can only be described as his army of rabid cattle. The man himself was armed to the teeth, just like Vigilante figured, but you didn’t expect the cows to be a bigger issue than the explosive perimeter or the multitude of guns the guy had. In the end, you took a horn stab to the thigh and had to be supported by Peacemaker when you made the killing blow with your tenderizer.

The whole drive back, Vigilante wouldn’t let it go. He was mad that you made the kill without him. He was even angrier that he missed taking that cow out with his car when he left the farm.

The knocking persists and you can only imagine your landlady standing out there, wanting to have a talk about the sketchy guy with glasses that your neighbors keep spotting. How are you going to explain to her that you’re not in danger? Even if you tell her that he’s just your coworker, it’s still pretty odd that Adrian walks past your house so often.

Opening the door, you expect to find the sweet elderly lady that you’re renting from. Instead, you find Peacemaker standing there in a casual outfit with a black and white cocker spaniel tucked under his arm. “Hey…uh…Chris, right?” You’re pretty sure that’s what Vigilante called him at one point.

“Yeah. Hey, is Vigilante here?” He brushes right past you into the house and sets the dog down, letting it scamper off. “You’ve got the day off, right?” Chris looks back over his shoulder at you.

“Yeah. We both…” A frown settles on your lips as you close and lock the door. “You know he’s Adrian Chase, right?” Seeing him nod, you’re glad that it’s at least confirmed. “We both have the day off. Are we going to talk about the dog?” Your eyes dart to where the spaniel is now standing on its back legs to get a better look at your fish tank.

“What do you mean? That’s yours, right? Some lady pulled up in an Oldsmobile and told me to bring it inside.”

“My landlady?” The dog lowers itself onto all fours and trots over to you, wagging its stumpy little tail. It’s cute, but you have no idea why your landlady would tell him to bring it into the house. The lease does allow pets, but you don’t have any yourself. The fish tank belongs to the old lady, too; you’re just taking care of it for her.

“Yeah, probably.” Without waiting for an invitation, he takes a seat in the living room. Chris leans back on the cushions, letting out a sigh as he rests his arms over the back of the couch. “We need to have a talk. Just you and me.”

“Okay?” Resigned to your fate as the dog’s temporary caretaker, you let the dog hop onto the recliner with you to sit in your lap. Vigilante isn’t here yet, but you know it’s just a matter of time before he lets himself in. It wouldn’t be like him to pass up the opportunity to go out and kick some ass on your shared day off.

“What’s going on with that curse thing? You can’t die until you kill off the Scarecrow’s family, right? Why would you want to fuck that up? You can’t die! You probably can’t age! That’s badass!”

It’s complicated. More complicated than just deciding that you want to stay immortal. The idea of staying the same age forever, watching everyone around you get old and die? That’s horrific. It’s painful. It fills you with that same helpless feeling you had when you watched your family die.

“I just…I don’t want to do that. It’s not fucking up anything. I don’t want to live forever.” At the back of your skull, the entity is saying something. Its voice is a cold rumble across the surface of your brain, a humming sensation pulsing down your spine. It doesn’t like Chris, doesn’t approve of what he’s saying.

“Vigilante said it was a ghost or something that cursed you. So, what? Is it your mom? Your dad? Some other thing? What’s the deal? What’s gonna happen when you kill the Scarecrow?”

Of course. The real reason for this little chat goes back to the other night when he asked Vigilante if you were going to kill yourself. All you do is shrug. Truthfully, you don’t know what’s going to happen once the Scarecrow is dead; the entity never told you. Truthfully, you do know what the entity is and it’s not a ghost.

You and your sibling used to joke that your parents were in a cult. The reality was that they were just…eccentric. Very into the metaphysical and demonology, very devout to the weird church that they began attending when you were a little kid. The strangest part was that they never forced you and your sibling to go to services with them. You were always given a choice when it came to your participation.

The church members were extremely nice. When you did go to services, there was a warm and comforting sense of community. There were potlucks, celebrations, funerals, as well as the rituals that took place in the basement. Lots of crystals and candles, worship directed at small idols and the use of symbols that you memorized in the children’s group when you were just old enough to start reading.

When you turned eighteen, you were given a gift by the leader of the congregation. You can still remember opening the little velvet box and finding the beautifully handcrafted ring inside. Wooden, anointed with some sort of fragrant oil, with a carving in the place of a stone. It was intricate and you recognized it as a seal, but you weren’t quite sure which one it was. As beautiful as it was, you had only heard of a few other church members being gifted with a ring.

You wore it, of course. You wore it for years, treasuring it as a reminder of home when you moved away. Proudly wearing it in front of your family when you had to move back home to help take care of them after your mother’s diagnosis. The night of the fire, the night of the murder, you finally learned the true purpose of the ring.

That was the first time you became aware of the demon the seal was tied to. The first time it spoke to you, despite having been with you for years. Watching, waiting. You know now that it’s not just some minor demon, either. What you were gifted with was a pact with Glasya-Labolas…a president rank demon. A count.

It’s never told you why it agreed to the pact, to be bound to you by that wooden ring. The ring that shattered into splinters after it spoke to you, the wood sinking into your flesh and permanently binding you to it. The demon’s motives for helping you are unclear and you can only imagine that once you do finally die, your soul is going to belong to it.

Smiling sheepishly, you know that you can’t tell Chris all of this. So ,you’ll let him believe it’s just a random ghost. The entity doesn’t want you to tell him, anyway. It does want you to pet the dog, though.

Ruffling the cocker spaniel’s ears, you lean back in the chair and shrug again. “I’m not going to kill myself. But I can’t promise that I won’t drop dead when I kill the Scarecrow. Look, I heard what Vigilante said about stopping me-”

“I just don’t get why you’d want to give up being immortal! You took a headshot and all you got was a little scar! You got blown up and you just reattached everything like you’re made of Legos or something!”

“I didn’t reattach everything…I had to regrow both hands,” you argue, holding up your left arm. There’s a clear difference in the shade of your hand versus your forearm, your hand being shinier and warmer in tone.

“Why would you want to give that up?”

“I’m not giving it up, I just…” Just what? You’re frowning, trying to think of what you were going to say, but you can’t remember. Why do your thoughts feel fuzzy as you try to get a grip on what you were saying?

The demon is snarling something and you’re trying to ignore it, trying to focus on what you were going to say to Chris. It’s so frustrating. It feels like you’re trying to grab at smoke and it just keeps slipping through your fingers. Why are you doing this? Why does the demon care if you kill off the Scarecrow’s bloodline?

Even after Chris leaves, once he’s satisfied that you’re not planning to die after breaking the curse, you can’t help but dwell on it. The past few years, the entity has been your only constant companion. Praising you after each kill, encouraging you to get your revenge, healing you and strengthening you. Kind of like that toxic relationship where only the friends can see how fucked up it is.

As you’re texting your landlady to ask about the dog currently curled up in your lap, you feel the vibrations of the entity’s voice against your skull. A single word is dancing across the surface of your brain and you wince. It’s a two-syllable word that you can just barely understand, spoken from a mouth not used to speaking an earthly language.

“…Bunny…” The word is joined by a deep, cold chuckling that makes the muscles in your cheek twitch. The voice makes your stomach clench, a chill spreading across your skin as it prickles with goosebumps.

Your grip on the phone tightens, your pulse accelerating. For the first time in a while, you actually feel scared. The demon has never spoken a word you actually understood. You can understand the emotion behind what it says, the intention, but it’s on a primal level like a pet understanding its owner. This is the first time it’s spoken English and the fact that it said Vigilante’s nickname for you is more unsettling than when it snarls in its own tongue.

Hesitantly, you take a deep breath and respond. “Yeah?”

Your response is met with another rumbling chuckle, but no more English. It murmurs something and you can only sense a smugness behind the words. At least it hasn’t demanded that you kill Vigilante and Peacemaker, even if it gets angry every time you’re around them. It prefers it when you’re alone…when it’s just the two of you.  Glasya-Labolas and the undying killing machine.

When Vigilante lets himself into the house, he finds you lying on the floor with the dog curled up next to you. He stands over you for a while, staring down at you through his visor. “What are you doing? Don’t tell me someone broke in and knocked you out.” His head tilts and his eyes shift to the cocker spaniel. “Where the hell did that come from?”

Your eyes are closed, but you reach over to pet the dog. “This is Oreo.”

“Oreo? That’s stupid! It looks like that cow that attacked you. You should call it Bessie.” He flops down onto the rug next to you, crossing his arms behind his head.

“My landlady named him. He’s supposed to be a guard dog, to protect me from my “stalker”.” You look over at him, a faint frown on your face. “We need to talk about boundaries.”

“What? Nuh-uh. I think our relationship is perfect!” Beneath his mask, he frowns. “Wait a minute. You’re just trying to convince me to take off my mask and reveal my secret identity! Well, I’m not falling for it! Even if we do it, I’m keeping the mask on!”

Chapter Text

There’s been a sinking feeling in your stomach all day, but you can’t figure out why. It’s just a normal workday for you. Doing a shift at Fennel Fields, no plans to go out with Vigilante after work to kill more of the Scarecrow’s relatives or take out petty criminals. You’re looking forward to a nice, relaxing evening after work.

The demon doesn’t give you any indication that something’s wrong, but you know that you can’t completely trust that. It’s been calm, quiet. Like it’s contemplating something. That only adds to the squirming anxiety in your gut. The saying “no news is good news” doesn’t apply when you’re dealing with a demon that’s been urging you to slaughter a man’s entire bloodline.

As you’re grabbing drinks for a table, you glance across the dining room to where Adrian is clearing away some dishes. He looks unbothered, so you know that he isn’t feeling what you are. Whatever this is, it’s just you. Maybe it’s sleep deprivation, since Vigilante has been staying at your place longer and longer. Maybe it’s fatigue from working yourself ragged at the restaurant and then acting as the entity’s murder machine after your shift.

Something bumps your hip, making you tense up and look to your right. The newest waitress smirks a little and nods toward Adrian, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“So, are you guys a thing?” She leans against the edge of the counter, crossing her arms under her bust and looking at Adrian.

Are you? Glancing in his direction again, you’re instantly reminded of how dramatically Vigilante reacted when you called Adrian cute. You know they’re the same person. Peacemaker even confirmed it. So, technically, you are a thing, but if you tell her that and he overhears…

“No.” You see her raise an eyebrow and a frown tugs at the corners of your mouth. You’ve been pretty careful not to act too familiar with Adrian at work. She shouldn’t have any reason to suspect anything.

“Seriously? So, what? He’s just super into you and you’re not into him?” Seeing your frown, she rolls her eyes. “Come on! Like you didn’t notice that he’s been eye-fucking you since the shift started. He’s been staring at your ass like he wants to-”

“I have a boyfriend,” you interrupt, just wanting her to stop talking. You’re standing there, holding the drinks that a lovely elderly couple are waiting on. At the back of your skull, you can feel an intense pulse of jealousy from the entity attached to you. It makes you visibly wince, which she seems to mistake for a sign of weakness.

The smile that spreads across her face sets you on edge. There’s something about it, something devious and almost malicious about her expression when she looks at the busboy again. He’s grabbing the dishes off another table, stacking them in the tub with the other dishes. Adrian has his back to you both, completely unaware of the way she’s ogling him.

He's in a great mood, even though it’s a Friday and shit is about to get crazy. Not even the pre-weekend dinner rush can sour his mood because he has something special planned tonight. As soon as his shift ends, he’s going to change into his Vigilante suit and go to your place to pick you up.

He’s been thinking about it a lot, ever since the Tupperware party massacre. You need a long-range weapon so you don’t have to get up close and personal for every kill. If you had some firepower at that Tupperware lady’s house, you could’ve taken out the shotgun guy without getting a chest full of buckshot. So, he’s going to teach you how to shoot. Tonight, in the forest, at the shooting range he put together himself this morning.

“Hey. It’s Adrian, right?” The voice comes from right behind him.

Adrian doesn’t bother to look back. He’s trying to strategically stack a tenth plate onto the pile in the tub without making the top one slide off. “Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you’re doing anything after we close up. Maybe we could get a drink or something.” The new girl, some chick that he’s pretty sure he’s seen wipe her mouth after leaving the walk-in with one of the cooks, gives him this smile when he looks back at her. Why does she look like she just won a prize or something?

“Get a drink? Why would I want to go with you to get a drink? I have drinks at home.” He sees her smile start to falter a little. “And anyway, I have a girlfriend.” Adrian looks away from her as he picks up the dish tub, watching you deliver drinks to some old couple on the other side of the dining room.

“Are you seriously turning me down? Look, I know you’re lying! She said she’s dating someone else!”

“Uh, yeah. I know she is.” Adrian rolls his eyes.

The cogs are turning in her head as she stares at him. “What? So, like, you’re in an open relationship or something?”

“What? No! I didn’t say that!”

“So what’s the deal? She’s your girlfriend, but she’s dating another guy and you’re just cool with that?”

Across the dining room, you hear your name being mentioned. You’re trying to maintain a professional smile while you’re talking to the sweet elderly couple at the table. Trying to ignore the conversation taking place between Adrian and the new girl, just trying to make it through the rest of your shift.

“Because we’re a throuple! It’s me, her, and another guy! And we don’t have room for anyone else!”

You can feel the heat rushing to your face. You can see the shock in the eyes of this sweet elderly couple that’s just trying to enjoy their Friday night date. All around the dining room, conversations have gone silent. You don’t dare to look away from the couple, but you can feel your coworkers staring at you. Glasya-Labolas is snarling in your head, the vibrations bringing on a wave of nausea.

“Alright…I’ll get these orders put in and I’ll have your food out shortly.” By some miracle, you’re able to maintain your professional smile and you nod at the startled old couple before you turn away.

Making your way to the kitchen, you can barely hold it together. The new waitress is staring at you. The cooks are staring at you. Adrian smiles when he walks past you to drop off some dishes, as if he didn’t make an absolutely wild, and false, announcement in the middle of the dining room.

You’re trying so hard to act like it didn’t happen, but every interaction feels so awkward now. As if the rest of the staff are trying to figure out who the third person is in your supposed throuple. Somehow, you make it through the next few hours without quietly slipping out the back of the restaurant and disappearing into the night like a cryptid. What helps you push past the embarrassment is when you focus on that odd sense of dread that’s still gnawing at your stomach.

Things are starting to calm down as it gets later, but the feeling only gets stronger. When you try to check with the demon, you don’t get a snarl or a grumble in response. Just this sense of…anticipation…humming across your brain. It only adds to your anxiety and you don’t like it.

You’re not used to this feeling. Since your pact with the demon started, you haven’t really felt fear. Not like this. Sure, you were afraid for Adrian’s safety a few times during your missions, but this is different. Not a fear for him, not even a fear for your own bodily wellbeing. It’s so hard to describe, so hard to pin down what exactly you’re afraid of.

It's less than an hour until closing time when your heart starts to palpitate. A hard, rapid thumping in your chest that makes you wince and lift a hand to your sternum. You try to push past the sensation, seeing a new customer seated in your section. You have a job to do! And in less than an hour, you’ll be able to go home and just lounge on the couch with Oreo!

Walking over to the table, you dig your notepad out of your apron pocket and put on a smile. “Welcome to Fennel Fields. Can I get you started with a drink? We have…” The second your gaze settles on the customer’s face, your stomach drops. There’s a coldness rushing through your veins, blending with a surge of adrenaline.

The man sitting in the booth is wearing a disguise. A windbreaker and jeans instead of a suit, a baseball cap meant to help distract from his facial features. You’d know his face anywhere. Those cold blue eyes, the shape of his cheekbones, his lips settling into a smile as artificial as your own.

He doesn’t know you and he’s ordering a glass of water, already lowering his eyes to the menu as he opens it. Of course he doesn’t know you. He’s never even seen your face, but you’ve seen his. You could draw Jonathan Crane’s face from memory if you had to.

Kill. No. Kill. Walk away. Kill. Run! You’re trembling as you stand there, staring down at him as you feel your muscles tensing. Thoughts growing fuzzy, rage simmering to the surface as your grip tightens around your pen and thoughts of jamming it into one of his pretty blue eyes makes your smile grow.

Before you can do the unthinkable, Adrian is spilling an entire tub of dishes across the table and splashing the poorly disguised Scarecrow with drink remnants from the cups inside. “Shit!”

There’s a sigh from the man in the booth as he grabs a handful of napkins. “Accidents happen.” There’s a tension behind those words, thinly veiled annoyance as he smiles tightly at the busboy.

Adrian doesn’t apologize. He grabs the cups that fell out of the tub, glancing over at you. Obviously, he doesn’t know that this is the fucking Scarecrow sitting here, unmasked, in the booth. He just sees you gripping a pen and smiling like a maniac at a seemingly random customer. He just wants to stop you from killing the guy in front of everyone and getting tossed in jail.

You can’t move. Frozen in place, eyes fixed on Crane and unable to look away. You’re trying to fight against it, trying to make yourself move, but you can’t even get your fingers to twitch. With your pulse accelerating, with panic increasing the rush of adrenaline through your veins, the edge of your vision starts to blur with tears.

Helpless. Just like when you were dragging yourself across the floor, just like when you were watching your family die at the hands of that fear-amped monster. This man’s monster. In your head, you can hear the agonized screams of your younger sibling and your body lurches forward, the grip on your pen painfully tight. Before you can try to command your arm to lift and poise to stab, you’re abruptly jerking sideways as the muscles of your left leg go lax.

There’s a deep, warning snarl from the entity as you steady yourself and it rings through your skull. Wincing, you drop your pen and cover your ears on reflex, despite knowing it won’t help. The entity is giving a command in its foreign tongue, but the message is clearly “get away from the Scarecrow”.

“F-fuck. Sorry, sir. Let me grab another server to take care of you.” As soon as you turn away, your left leg feels stable again. You’re taking quick steps to put distance between you and Crane, each step making you feel a little better, but you hate it. This was your chance! You could have killed him and gotten the hardest part of your task out of the way!

Why did your body freeze up like that? Why is Jonathan Crane here? He doesn’t know who you are…right? Why would he? You’ve kept your identity well hidden! How would he know what you’re doing, what you’re planning?

“…Bunny…” The entity’s voice is a low rumble through your head, making you open your eyes.

You’re sitting in your car, after your shift. Slouching, resting your forehead against the steering wheel. Still in the Fennel Fields parking lot, staring down at the floor of the car. “Yeah?”

The question is met with a string of words in the entity’s ancient tongue, but you can understand what it’s saying. Go home. Rest. Don’t pursue the Scarecrow. Not yet. No matter how angry you are, no matter how awful it feels to drive home without his blood caked beneath your fingernails.

As you pull out of the parking lot, you know you shouldn’t question Glasya-Labolas. You know that the entity has its own reasons for what it does, secret rationales for every action or order. This is something you can’t let go of. “Why wouldn’t you let me kill him? He was there. He was right there! I could have made it quick and…”

Quick and painless? Your lips twitch into a frown and you sigh, your shoulders slouching. “Quick and painless is too good for him, isn’t it? After what happened to me…after what happened to us…he deserves worse. He deserves to suffer ten times more than we did,”’ you correct yourself.

The demon hums in agreement, but it comes with something unexpected. There’s a strange wave of affection from the back of your skull, a warmth spreading through your chest. It lingers, as if it’s a reward from the entity for doing what it wanted.

You don’t mention the Scarecrow again during the drive home and when you pull into the driveway, your frown returns. The lights are on in your living room and you know for a fact that you turned them off before you went to work. It can’t be Vigilante, right? When you left Fennel Fields, Adrian was still cleaning up.

You reach under the driver’s seat to grab the knife strapped there and slide it up your sleeve before you get out of the car. Just in case you’re wrong. Just in case the Scarecrow is waiting for you inside. You’re gripping the handle of the blade in one hand, the other slipping your key into the lock. You move quickly once the door is open, bringing the knife up, but you freeze at what you find inside.

Chris is stretched out on your couch with his feet propped up, the black and white cocker spaniel curled up on the floor nearby. The coffee table has beer cans scattered across it and you can hear something rummaging around in the kitchen. He looks up at you and lifts the beer he’s holding, smiling. “Hey, Bunny! Sweet place you’ve got.”

“How did you get in here?” You look from him to the door. The lock doesn’t look like it was messed with and, as far as you can see, the windows are intact.

“What? Vigilante gave me the spare key to the back door! He said it was cool if I wanted to hang out and wait for you to get off work. He’s taking you shooting tonight, right?”

You have no idea what he’s talking about. As you open your mouth to argue, your attention drifts to the fish tank and you lower your knife. “Chris. What happened to the neon tetras?” you ask, staring at the tank full of goldfish.

Chapter Text

“I can’t believe that Eagly ate all of your landlady’s fish and Peacemaker replaced with them feeder goldfish from the pet store! That’s crazy! Classic Eagly! Why did your landlady leave her fish there anyway? It’s kind of weird to have your renter taking care of your pets.”

When he doesn’t get a response, Vigilante looks over his shoulder and sees you trudging behind him at a distance. “Hey! Bunny, are you listening? I said it’s crazy that Eagly ate your landlady’s fish! You know what you should do? You should get a few betta fish and just plop them in there with all of those feeder fish that Peacemaker got!”

You still don’t respond. Your gaiter is pulled up to hide the lower half of your face and he can just kind of see your eyes through your goggles when he gets closer to you. What he can see is the way your brow is furrowed.

“What? Are you really that mad? They’re just fish! Besides, Peacemaker replaced them! Those feeder fish are way cuter than the neon ones!” Standing directly in front of you, he puts a hand on his hip and tilts his head. “Are you even listening to me?”

“I saw the Scarecrow today.” Your voice is lowered and your eyes shift away from him, looking off in the distance at the lights of the trailer park. The entity is grumbling at you in your head, still scolding you for taking Chris up on the offer to watch Oreo while you’re shooting with Vigilante.

“No way! The Scarecrow is locked up in Arkham!”

“I saw him! I saw him in Fennel Fields-!”

“Okay, first of all, why would a masked villain be in the town’s best Mediterranean restaurant? And second, I’m pretty sure I’d know if he escaped from Arkham.” It’s true. Ever since Peacemaker asked if you’d drop dead once the Scarecrow is gone, Vigilante has been checking the news daily and looking through every possible resource to make sure the Scarecrow hasn’t escaped.

“He wasn’t wearing his mask. Look, I know what his face looks like under the mask and I know for a fact that I saw him today. He came in around the end of my shift and-!”

“That was him?! Holy shit!” Vigilante quickly shakes his head and adds, “I mean, I saw it from the window. That whole thing with you and that guy at the table. You looked like you wanted to stab his eyes out!”

“I did! And he was right there! I could’ve taken him out, but…” Your voice fades and you can feel it. This bitter taste rising to the back of your tongue, this tightness at the center of your chest. Close, so close that you could’ve just jammed your pen into the side of his neck. “It would’ve been so easy to just kill him right there, but someone stopped me.”

You haven’t really let him know just how involved the entity is with your mission. Vigilante isn’t aware that Glasya-Labolas is constantly present, so explaining it to him would be difficult. It’s still hard for you to come to terms with what happened. The way your muscles seemed to lock up when you felt that surge of adrenaline, like the entity was holding you back. Not to mention how your left leg went limp to prevent you from lunging at Crane.

“Well, maybe he stopped you because he didn’t want to see you go to jail. Did you think of that? Maybe he didn’t know what you were doing and got confused. Maybe you need to work on your communication skills,” Vigilante replies, stepping back. “Maybe he was just trying to help.”

“Yeah…I’m not mad at him. He actually saved me. If he didn’t distract me, I might’ve really stabbed the Scarecrow. And I can’t keep working through his bloodline if I’m locked up.”

“Exactly!” Crossing his arms, he leans on his right hip. “You know, when Peacemaker went to jail, I had to wait for him for four years! Do you know how long that is?”

“Four years?” You can’t help but smile a little beneath your gaiter. “Four years is four years.”

“Wait a second! Why do you know what the Scarecrow looks like under his mask?”

It’s not like it’s something you’re proud of. As you pull out your wallet and slip your fingers into one of the side pockets, you can feel blood rushing to your face. You can’t even look at Vigilante when you slide a picture of Jonathan Crane out and hold it up. “I’ve spent a lot of time memorizing his face, just in case I found him without his mask. And I carry this around so I won’t forget.”

Vigilante cackles and shakes his head. “That’s hilarious! You’re just carrying around a picture of the Scarecrow? Where do you keep my picture?”

“I know, it’s weird. I just-”

“Seriously. Show me the picture of me that you have,” he says, standing next to you and sliding a gloved fingertip into your wallet.

You quickly put the Crane picture away, still blushing under your gaiter. “I don’t have one.”

“What?! Why not? I have pictures of you!”

In your head, the entity is roaring with outrage that’s heavily laced with jealousy. You’re lifting a hand to the side of your head, wincing at the demon’s snarling. “You have pictures of me?” It’s weird because you don’t remember seeing him point his phone at you. Maybe he just printed off pictures from your social media accounts.

No, he did not. As soon as Vigilante pulls his wallet out of a pouch on his belt, not even noticing that he flashes you the ID for Adrian Chase, you can see a thick stack of pictures tucked into a pocket. He’s all too happy to pull them out and flip through them, showing you a lot of candid photos. There are a few pictures of you at Fennel Fields, some pictures of you from a distance in your disguise, and multiple photos that were either taken from through the windows at your house or taken from inside the house without you knowing. Your stomach clenches a little when you see the pictures of you asleep.

“You always carry these around with you?” You’re trying not to let it show that you’re a little freaked out. He seems so proud of himself, acting like all of this is totally normal.

“Uh, yeah. Oh! Check out this one! It’s my favorite!” Vigilante holds up a photo of you asleep in bed with him lying next to you.

The demon’s voice is snarling in your head, the seething jealousy making your brain burn across its surface and causing your stomach to churn. You’re trying to calm it down, but its fury can’t be quelled. As the pain makes the world begin to spin, you feel something in your head. Like the click of a button, like the flip of a switch. The entity’s rage is abruptly gone, the inside of your head silent.

“What the fuck…?” You hold the sides of your head with your hands, blinking away tears that had begun to form. The quiet is almost more unsettling than the demon’s roar and now there are goosebumps rising on your skin. There’s this eerie feeling of paranoia settling over you, mixed with a sensation you haven’t felt in years. The feeling of being alone in your head.

“What’s going on?” Vigilante tucks the stack of pictures back into his wallet, watching you blink and look around. “Bunny? Hey, don’t start ignoring me again!”

“Sorry, I just…something weird just happened.”

“It’s not weird for a guy to carry around candid pics of his girlfriend,” he argues, shaking his wallet at you. “I can’t believe you don’t have any pictures of me.”

Rubbing your head, you still can’t feel Glasya-Labolas and it’s making your anxiety grow. Where would the demon have gone? Did he abandon you? But you’ve been together for years! Did he just temporarily disconnect from you? Do you still need to complete your quest to kill all of the Cranes or…?

Taking a deep breath, all you can do is wait to see if the demon will come back. Focusing your attention on Vigilante again, you tug down your gaiter and frown. “You want me to put your picture in my wallet? Wouldn’t it just be a picture of your visor and mask?”

“Well, yeah. I don’t want someone to look through your wallet and see what I really look like. That’s not the point! I just think it isn’t very girlfriend-like for you to have a picture of the Scarecrow, but not me!”

In your defense, a week ago, you weren’t even aware that you were his girlfriend. “Yeah…you have a point. Oh! Hey, stand over there and do a cool pose.” Pulling out your phone, you open the camera app.

Vigilante eagerly takes out a gun and strikes a pose. He’s pointing the gun at something off to the right, keeping his body turned. Beneath his mask, he’s grinning. This is what he wanted tonight! Just you and him, in the forest at midnight, shooting guns and taking pictures together!

After a few more poses, he jogs over to your side to see how they turned out. Vigilante’s eyebrows lift when he sees that you’re setting one of the pictures as your home screen wallpaper. That’s pretty much the same as carrying his picture in your wallet, right?

You’re turning to ask if it’s okay when you find yourself getting pulled in for a hug. It’s so sudden, so unexpected, that it takes you a few seconds to process what’s happening. His arms are wrapped around you tightly, pressing your chest against his, and it’s not a brief hug. Even after you register what’s happening, Vigilante still holds onto you.

Slowly, you lift your arms to wrap around his midsection and your hands press against his back. You stumble back a step when he tries to lean into your hug. “Adr-! Vigilante?”

When he finally speaks again, his voice is lowered. That energized tone from earlier is gone and you’re almost unsettled by the sharp contrast. He sounds so serious, but there’s a hint of something in his voice. Something warm. “I don’t want you to die. I don’t want you to stay dead.”

Without the demon’s snarling to distract you, those words feel so much heavier. It’s like there’s a hand reaching into your chest, squeezing your heart. You hug him a little tighter and you can feel his armor pressing against your chest through your shirt. “Vigilante…”

You’re not sure what to say, what you can say. Without knowing how things are going to end, you can’t promise him that you’ll always come back to life. You’ve never seen him this serious before and you know that you need to say something to him. There’s a gloved hand squeezing your hip, pushing your waist against his.

“You have to keep coming back. I’m not ready to lose my girlfriend,” he says, his tone lighter this time.

“As long as I’m able to, I’ll keep coming back,” you assure him. Of course, you still have no idea where Glasya-Labolas went. You can only hope that the entity will come back after it’s calmed down.

“Hey.” Vigilante leans back and tilts his head to the side. Through his visor, you can see that he’s looking you in the eyes. “Wanna have sex? Because I do. I really want to do it.”

Raising an eyebrow, you smile beneath your gaiter. “What? Right here, in the woods behind the trailer park? I don’t even know what your face looks like,” you tease, already knowing what he’ll say.

“I’m not taking back what I said. The mask stays on, no matter what. You can just try to imagine how I look. You’ll be totally wrong, but you can try!”

Chapter Text

The night air feels cool against your skin and when you tip your head back, you can see the starry sky above you. Your legs tighten around his waist and your hands grip Vigilante’s shoulders when you feel the rough bark of the tree scrape against your lower back. You almost blurt out “Adrian”, but manage to stop yourself and bite your lip.

This is the first time you’ve had sex since you found your new purpose. The first time you’ve felt really attached to someone, the first time you’ve felt comfortable enough to let loose. There’s no voice grumbling at the back of your mind, no pulse of jealous rage to burn across the surface of your brain. In this moment, there’s only you and Vigilante.

Sure, it’s not the most romantic sex. It isn’t the soft, sweet first time you’d expect with someone. You’re in the woods, behind the trailer park. You can’t even kiss him because he refuses to take off his mask. All you can do is grip his shoulders tighter and rock your hips as he grinds against you.

He hisses, feeling the heat of your slit as his shaft glides through your slick. The grip on your hips tightens and he throws his head back. Through his visor, you can see him clenching his eyes shut. When he says your name, he doesn’t use his nickname for you. His voice is strained and you can feel his tip brush against your stomach, smudging precum on your skin.

You lift your hips, trying to ease him inside, but you can feel him pull back. “What? What’s wrong?”

Vigilante opens his eyes, watching you through the red visor. His head tilts to the side a little and he smiles to himself. “You’re acting different,” he points out. He noticed it when you wanted to take his picture. You seem more relaxed, like you’re really letting yourself have fun on your date night.

“Different in a bad way?” Your breathing is unsteady, your legs subconsciously tightening around his hips. There’s a frown tugging at the corner of your mouth. You’re not sure what he means and you’re immediately worried that you did something wrong.

“No way! I like this side of you!” Vigilante lowers his hips a little, pressing his tip against your slit. “I like you all the time, but you’re-! Ngh!” He pushes forward, sinking into you and closing his eyes as he feels your warm, slick walls around his length. “You’re more fun like this! Fuck, you’re tight!”

You’re clenching your jaw as your back arches, trying to keep yourself quiet. It’s been such a long time since you felt something like this. The warmth of his body pressing against yours, the sensation of being stretched in such an intimate place. You can feel him pushing deeper and your hips buck when he’s finally fully buried in you.

Next time, it’s going to be different. Not just a quickie in the middle of one of your murder-infused date nights. You’re going to do it right. Do it somewhere where he’ll at least take off that damn armor. Right after you decide this, your thoughts turn to a jumbled mess as he starts moving his hips.

Vigilante is pounding his hip into yours, fucking you with a raw intensity that has the tree bark behind you decorating your back with scratches. He’s been daydreaming about this for weeks! Of course, in most of those daydreams, you’re both covered in blood and you’re surrounded by the corpses of criminals.

His pace is fast and rough, his breathing ragged as he feels you tightening. Your left leg slips down and before he can pull it over his hip again, you kick off from the tree trunk and throw your weight forward. He grins, knowing exactly what you’re trying to do.

Of course, Vigilante could easily keep his balance if he wanted to, but he’s going to play along for now. He falls onto his back with you on top, straddling his hips and sinking down on his length. “Oh shit, that’s deep!” His head falls back as you start moving and his hands tighten on your hips, arching his back to grind into you.

Your lips are moving silently, forming Adrian’s name. Pumping your hips, your walls glide along the length of his dick again and again. When you angle yourself just right, your clit brushes against his skin and it has you seeing stars. Your toes are curling in your boots, your heart is pounding harder and faster than it has in a long time.

As you feel the muscles in your lower abdomen start to tighten, feel yourself edging towards release, the familiar sound of gunshot pierces the night. Before you can react, pain erupts in your chest and hot blood spills down your skin. You swear and flatten yourself to keep Vigilante pinned down, listening for movement in the woods.

Instead of just hearing some confused hunter wandering closer, you hear a blood-chilling snarling. You look down at Vigilante through his visor, your blood soaking into his suit. “Adri-!” You’re cut off by a man shouting, deeper in the forest.

“Where the fuck did that thing come from?! Shit, shit, shit!”

“It’s just a fucking dog! Just-!”

“I’m not shooting a dog!”

“Are you fucking stupid?! That thing’s gonna kill Jeremy! Do something!”

The taste of blood fills your mouth as your breathing becomes ragged. Every inhale, there’s a tickle in your chest and you fight the urge to cough. You immediately know that one of your lungs has been punctured. It’s happened to you a few times in the past, but this time is different. This time, you don’t have Glasya-Labolas.

It's getting harder to draw a full breath. Like there’s an immense pressure in your chest, like you just can’t fully fill your lungs. The metallic taste in your mouth makes your stomach churn. Your arms wrap around Vigilante’s neck and you press your face into his shoulder. “A…Adrian?”

“Bunny?” He lifts a hand to your upper back and presses it there lightly before lifting it to see the glistening red layer of blood on his glove. “Bunny? Come on. Just heal yourself-”

“I can’t! I…can’t heal myself without the curse and…” You’re trembling as you cough and Vigilante can smell your blood through his visor. “The curse left me earlier. If it doesn’t come back-”

“What do you mean it left you? Hey! Come on, Bunny! Keep talking to me! Don’t pass out!” Vigilante’s pulse is racing and he turns his head side to side, not even sure what he’s looking for. He can feel your whole body starting to tremble, hear the wet and ragged way that you’re breathing. “What do you mean the curse left?! We still have Cranes to kill!”

When he hears something bounding towards you both, Vigilante’s free hand moves to his belt to grab a knife, but it’s not needed. Oreo steps out of the bushes, his black and white fur splattered with blood. His muzzle is dripping with it, but the dog looks unfazed. The cocker spaniel grumbles as it ambles forward, briefly glancing at Vigilante before focusing on you.

“How’d you get here? Hey, Bunny! Oreo…shit. Bunny! Bunny, open your eyes!” He can feel your body going limp on top of his, your inner walls becoming cooler against his dick and he starts to panic. If you really die, what is he going to do? Who is he going to hang out with?! Where else is he going to find someone that loves killing bad people as much as he does?

It’s a struggle for you to breathe. Your eyes are closed, your limbs heavy and fingertips twitching against Vigilante’s upper back. Every breath sends a painful zing through your chest, a fresh surge of blood up your throat and out your nose and mouth. Your heart is beating slower as you hear a grumbling.

Something cold and wet presses against your forehead. Opening your eyes, you find yourself looking at Orea as you hear that voice in your head again. The low, rumbling voice of the demon, like a cold rushing river. Instantly, you can feel your breathing become easier. Your lung is beginning to heal.

Glasya-Labolas. He’s speaking in that foreign tongue, but the emotions behind his words are clear. Bitter fury blended with jealousy, with the command to avenge yourself. Those words bring with them an uncontrollable wave of bloodlust and your heart races. It’s a familiar flavor of bloodlust; the kind you only feel when there’s a Crane nearby.

Beneath you, Vigilante is beyond confused, but he’s just happy that you’re not dying anymore. Whatever happened between you and the curse, it’s back now and you’re healing. He can even feel you getting warmer around his dick, but even he knows that now isn’t the time to finish. You almost dying really is a mood-killer.

“Adrian, stay here.” Your voice is lowered to a whisper and you start to pull away from him.

“Hey! Wait a second! How do you-?! I mean, that’s not my name! I’m Vigilante!” He lets you sit back on his waist and looks up at you through his visor, feeling blood pump straight to his dick. You look so fucking cool right now. Blood soaking your clothes, running from your mouth and nose, with that murderous look in your eyes. Before he can get another word out, you suddenly vanish.

Not like “you abruptly get up and run away”. No, you literally just disappear like you blinked out of existence. One second, he’s looking up at you and the next, he just can’t see you anymore. Even though he can’t see you, Vigilante can feel you.

He can still feel the weight of you on top of him for a moment, still feel the heat of your skin and the warm slickness of your pussy. His eyes widen when he can feel your walls gliding across his shaft and then his skin is met by the cool night air. “Bunny?! What the fuck? Hey! Come on! Say something! Where’d you go?!”

“Stay here.” That’s the sound of your voice, along with the rustling sound of you pulling up your pants, but he can’t see you. You know that he can’t see you and it’s for the best because you need to protect him. After taking that shot to the chest, you know that whoever is out in the forest with you can see you both, even if you can’t see them yet.

Grabbing your tenderizer and knife, you watch as your invisibility spreads to them. Whoever shot you, it wasn’t just some confused hunter. The fact that you can feel a Crane here immediately makes you think of the Scarecrow, but as far as you know, he isn’t even aware of your bloody quest for vengeance. The last Crane you killed was Jebediah Crane, who was alone when you raided his farm, but you can’t be sure that he actually lived alone.

You’re using the same technique you used when you took down those men in the abandoned garage. Glasya-Labolas granting you with invisibility so you can sneak up on the men and kill them with swiftness and efficiency, taking minimal damage yourself. As you move through the forest as silently as possible, you can see that there are only four men left. A fifth is moving towards the trailer park, dragging the lifeless body of a sixth man.

As your eyes dart from one man to the next, your grip on your tenderizer tightening, you try to determine which one is the Crane. It’s difficult to see in the darkness, only being able to make out their general build. Which one, which one? You deftly toss your tenderizer at the back of a man’s head, sending him sprawling forward in the dirt with a wet thud.

The others all turn to stare at their friend and one begins to bark orders to keep their backs to each other. That’s him. That’s the Crane. You slink closer through the darkness, step by step, your grip on your knife shifting to a more comfortable position.

“Isaiah, I don’t like this! I thought you said this was gonna be easy!” One of the men is hissing to the Crane, his grip on his shotgun shaky. “First that fucking dog comes out of nowhere and mauls Jeremy! Now we’ve got hammers flying at us! I didn’t sign up for this! This is your revenge, not mine! I didn’t even like your dad!”

So that’s it? You can hear the entity humming in your head and you pause, waiting for it’s decision. The demon snarls the order to focus only on Isaiah, but you have other plans. These bastards shot at you in the dark.

They could’ve killed Vigilante and you know they would’ve tried to if you really had died. That’s unforgiveable. Just as you start to rush forward, bullets whizz past you from behind, taking down the men on either side of Isaiah. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, knowing that Vigilante ignored your request to stay put, but you’re glad. There’s nothing more romantic than a co-op kill!

Chapter Text

The smell of blood and stale beer is what greets you first when you regain consciousness. Your cheek is pressed against the sticky floor of Peacemaker’s trailer and you can feel something resting across your back, a body pressed against your side. Opening your eyes, you can see Oreo’s face a few inches away from yours so you can only assume it’s Vigilante’s arm on your back.

Beyond Oreo, you can see sunlight spilling into the trailer through the window. You can hear a rustling somewhere behind you, like the sound of Eagly adjusting his wings wherever he’s perched. As you try to remember how you ended up on the floor cuddling with Vigilante, Oreo inches closer and licks some dried blood off your cheek.

Blood. That’s right. There’s a mix of your blood and Isaiah Crane’s dried on your face. There’s also blood caked on Oreo’s muzzle, which the dog seems completely unbothered by. The sight of the blood reminds you that this little cocker spaniel mauled a man last night. He tore out a guy’s throat to protect you.

Or did he? Was that Oreo or was it the demon’s influence? You lift your arm and reach out to pet the dog, which makes him wag his stumpy tail so hard that his butt wiggles.

You shouldn’t be wasting time lying on the floor with your blood-soaked boyfriend. There are Cranes to kill. You need to make sure that Jebediah Crane doesn’t have more offspring that intend to avenge his death. You need to figure out why the Scarecrow is in town and whether he knows what you’ve been doing or if it’s just a bizarre coincidence.

As you struggle to push yourself up, the arm across your back weighs you down. Before you can try to crawl away, Vigilante is wrapping both arms around you to drag you closer. “Adri-! Vigilante, we need to get up!” you hiss, planting both arms on the floor to try to lift yourself again.

It’s no use. Settling on the floor, a sigh slips past your lips and you look at Oreo. The dog has his head tilted and you reach out to ruffle his fluffy ears. Despite his bloody fur, he still looks cute. He still looks innocent, as if he didn’t rip a man’s throat out with his bare teeth.

You tense, hearing footsteps and a groan somewhere behind you. Eagly screeches a greeting and you hear a yawn. As the steps approach, you frown at the sound of Chris laughing.

“What happened last night? I thought he was going to teach you how to shoot, but you guys came back covered in blood and passed out.” He sits on the couch, watching you from over the edge of the coffee table.

What did happen? You can remember Glasya-Labolas leaving, you remember having sex with Vigilante and getting interrupted by Jebediah Crane’s son trying to kill you both. Oreo passed the demon back to you and you went to get revenge. Then…everything is fuzzy.

“You have a ton of holes in your shirt,” Chris points out. “Did you guys get ambushed?”

“Something like that.” Right. When you zeroed in on Isaiah Crane, the asshole had a shotgun and filled your chest with buckshot before you got him. That would explain why you passed out as soon as you were somewhere safe, but what about Vigilante?

When your masked cuddle partner finally releases you and turns over, you push yourself to sit up. The dog is wagging his tail again and licks at some of the blood dried on his muzzle. “Did anything weird happen with Oreo?” You spare Chris a brief glance as the cocker spaniel climbs onto your lap.

“Oh shit! Yeah, it was crazy! He was fine when you guys left, but then he went insane for no reason. He was barking and growling, but I didn’t see anything outside. Eagly was acting weird, too. They both started attacking the door until I opened it. The dog ran off before I could stop him and Eagly followed him.”

Oreo could’ve killed him. The realization that Chris was alone with the demon-possessed dog sets you on edge. Glasya-Labolas chuckles deep within your skull, speaking in his ancient tongue with a mocking tone. Your arms wrap around the dog and you try to hide your growing anxiety.

“He probably just heard a squirrel.” If you tell him about the demon, things won’t end well for either of you. Glasya-Labolas already dislikes Peacemaker and Vigilante. You’ve been grateful that he hasn’t commanded you to kill them, but the threat is there. Hanging over your head like a guillotine, ready to drop at any moment and make you slaughter your friends.

Should you distance yourself from them? Do you need to go solo again and move on to the next town? This is the longest you’ve stayed in one place since you started on your quest for revenge. Normally, you would take out your targets and go to the next place. Never making connections, barely making an impression on your coworkers. Would Vigilante even let that happen?

You’re driving home with Vigilante in the passenger seat and Oreo in the back. He’s awake now, staring out the windshield through his visor and not speaking. With his arms crossed, it almost seems like it’s intentional. Like he’s trying to give you the silent treatment over something you did.

If you try to move, will he follow you? You’ve never had someone latch onto you the way he has. Something tells you that if you do move, you’ll fall asleep alone in bed one night and find yourself waking up handcuffed to him the next morning.

In the passenger seat, he’s silently fuming. He still can’t believe you were keeping secrets from him! It’s not even just about the invisibility thing, even though that was pretty badass! You didn’t tell him that Oreo was an attack dog! Vigilante didn’t even know that cocker spaniels could kill people!

What other secrets are you keeping from him? Are you lying about having a curse? Did you lie about getting that healing ability from a spirit? Are you actually some kind of alien and the Scarecrow is actually from an alien race that your home planet is warring against?

“It’s not very girlfriend-like to keep secrets from me,” he finally says with a huff. Vigilante doesn’t just want answers. He wants you to know that he’s upset, he wants you to feel bad about it. He wants an apology.

In the driver’s seat, you’re silent. Focusing on navigating the backroads and trying to get home before anyone notices the masked vigilante sitting in your passenger seat. Rolling down a long alley, your shoulders droop and you let out a sigh. “Adrian-”

“Don’t call me that! You don’t even know if that’s my real name! I could be anyone! I might even be the Scarecrow! How would you know?”

“I know because I know you, Adrian!” The car brakes sharply and the dog barks in the back seat, but you’re focused on Vigilante now. “I know the sound of Adrian Chase’s voice. I know the way you pronounce “churro”. I know what snacks you like, I know what flavor of Gatorade is your favorite! I know the way you handle knives, even when we’re at work, and I can recognize the way you walk! I know you!”

“Jesus, Bunny.” He’s grinning beneath his mask and he almost wishes you could see it. Right now, you can only see his eyes through the visor. You really do know him, don’t you? This is why you’re so perfect for each other! “Even if I was Adrian Chase-”

“Adrian, I like you either way. And you know that I won’t be in danger if I know your secret identity. You know mine, right? And what’s more intimate than knowing each other’s secret identities?” The car starts moving again and you take a deep breath, your hands tightening on the steering wheel. “And if we’re going to finish what we started last night, I want us to do it the right way. I want to be able to actually kiss you.”

Vigilante is weirdly quiet as the car finally pulls into the driveway. Dealing with that internal conflict between wanting to gaslight you into thinking he’s not Adrian Chase and the tempting desire to just give in. You’re not making it easy for him.

“So…you want to pick up where we left off?” There’s an almost teasing edge to his voice when he asks this, turning to look at you through his red visor.

“Maybe after a shower.” You wince at the demon’s snarls inside your head and take your keys out of the ignition. “Maybe tonight? Maybe. We have a lot to do, but-”

“You’re right. Oh! How about this? We can do it after we do some recon on the Scarecrow? You want to know why he’s here, right? We can get the security footage from Fennel Fields so we can see how he got there and how he left.” He follows you up to the back door and unlocks it with his own key, letting you and the dog step in ahead of him.

You lift Oreo in your arms, knowing the dog’s going to need a bath. “Yeah. That sounds perfect.” A smile begins to tug at your lips and you ignore the little surge of jealousy that’s emanating from the back of your skull.

While you’re bathing Oreo, you can’t help talking to Glasya-Labolas. The bathroom door is closed and you know that Adrian is in the guest room, doing whatever it is that Adrian does in there. Quietly, you protest to the demon, “I should be able to have relationships.”

The response is immediate. Vicious snarls in that foreign, ancient language with heat behind each word. Jealousy, outrage, a possessiveness that goes beyond anything a human would be capable of. The low, grumbling of his voice echoes off the inside of your skull and makes you wince.

“I know we have a pact,” you whisper, glancing at the door. “But I…don’t like being alone. And this is the first time I’ve wanted something for myself! Something that doesn’t have anything to do with revenge! He makes me happy!”

Another snarl, another rant that you can only make out through the emotion behind each word. The entity is protesting, claiming that things were better when it was just the two of you. Why would you need the company of a human, a weakling like Adrian, if you have a powerful demon attached to you? Why are you saying that you hate being alone when Glasya-Labolas has been with you for years? Why do you need human affection when he’s adored you since the day he first beheld you?

It's that last point that makes you pause, elbow-deep in bloody bathwater. Oreo whines and tilts his head, leaning forward to lick your cheek. “Sorry,” you mumble, resuming the bath. That revelation is still sinking in, the demon’s confession. Is it true, though? Can you really trust anything that a demon says?

In the guest room, Adrian is sitting on the edge of the bed with his mask in his hands. He can hear you weirdly talking to yourself in the bathroom, but he doesn’t really pay attention to what you’re saying. He has his own shit to deal with.

A sigh escapes him as he flops onto his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling and letting his mask fall from his hands. It settles next to him on the bed and he pushes his glasses up a little. You know who he is, you noticed all of those little details about him. You’ve been watching him as closely as he was watching you.

A little grin settles on his face. You’re so fucking weird, but that’s why he likes you so much. Adrian grabs some of the spare clothes he stashed in the guest room dresser and changes out of his suit, knowing he’ll have to scrub your blood off his armor later. Maybe he can wait for the sun to go down and just hose it off in your backyard.

Chapter Text

You’re lucky, you know? There’s just a small handful of people that know Vigilante’s secret identity. He didn’t even want you to find out. Obviously, it was for your own protection! But you just had to push him into this, didn’t you?

The car is quiet, too quiet. Not that he cares. Adrian’s fine with the silence. It gives him some time to think about all of the crazy shit that’s happened in the past twenty-four hours. The Scarecrow sighting, having sex in the woods, you turning invisible, and then you confessing that you knew who he was the whole time! You really would give up information way too easily if someone tortured you!

There’s a grin on his face when he glances over at you. You showered and stuff before leaving for Fennel Fields, but he can still remember how badass you looked. Straddling him on the ground, covered in blood with holes in your chest, that murderous gleam in your eyes. Just thinking about it gets his blood pumping faster and he can’t fucking wait to see you in action again.

Before he can get too excited, he remembers where you’re going and what you’re doing. You want to know why the Scarecrow is in town, obviously he does too, but he can’t let you get too close to the Scarecrow. If you kill him and then you fall over dead, what’s Adrian going to do? He’s not going to let you die!

It’s like he told Chris. He just won’t let you get close. He’ll be the Scarecrow’s personal bodyguard if it means keeping you alive! Why would you want to risk dying anyway? You’re having way too much fun killing your way through the Crane family tree!

“I think my parents were in a cult.”

Adrian’s head snaps in your direction. “What the fuck? Where did that come from?”

In your head, the entity is snarling at you to shut the fuck up, but you ignore him. What you and Adrian have is something special. You’ve never felt this connected to someone, never felt so accepted by someone, and the truth has started to gnaw at you ever since you left Chris’s trailer.

Once you start, everything just seems to tumble out. Like a fucked up confessional where the role of the priest is played by your homicidal, unhinged boyfriend. When you get to the part about the ring, you start to hesitate. You don’t know just how much information you want to give him, you don’t even know if he understands it or believes you, but you push forward.

“Glasya-Labolas. That’s the “spirit” that’s keeping me alive.” The demon is roaring in your head, but he doesn’t leave. Unlike last time, this isn’t a situation that he wants to just avoid. This is your history, this is your fucked up relationship, and he’s furious that you’re sharing it with someone. His roars echo through your skull, vibrate your brain, but you grit your teeth and focus on the road.

“And he’s always with me…except for when we were in the woods last night. That-” You wince as a wave of pain ripples across your brain. He left because of Adrian. Not because you were going to sleep with him; Glasya-Labolas left before you even decided to do that. No, the entity detached from your body because he was fed up with Adrian’s weird shit. He left after seeing the photo collection.

To your absolute horror, the muscles of your jaw strain and pull. Before you can register what’s happening, your mouth begins to move. It feels like your chest is being squeezed, like your lungs are being manually manipulated to force out air to make you speak, but it isn’t your voice that comes out. The voice that leaves your lips is deep and cold, like a winter river. “Stop…stop, stop, stop! Shut up! Stop!”

Your teeth grit, fear coursing through you as you hit the brakes. The car lurches to a stop in the Fennel Fields parking lot, your hands tightening on the steering wheel as you feel something warm and wet running from your left nostril. Every muscle trembles, as if you have electricity coursing through your nerves, and your vision blurs as tears spill down your cheeks.

“Stop…stop…please stop.” There’s a quiver to your voice as the blood drips from your nose and speckles the front of your black jacket. “Please stop. Please-”

“Hey…Bunny?” Adrian’s tone is surprisingly gentle as his hand rests on your shoulder. He’s not a demonology expert, but he’s pretty sure you got possessed for a few seconds and he doesn’t like what he’s seeing now. This isn’t you! This trembling, crying woman isn’t the same Bunny that crushes people’s skulls and gets him hard every time she’s covered in blood!

“I’m sorry.” You wipe your nose on the back of your hand, smearing the blood on your knuckles.

“Come on. Trade seats with me. I’ll park the car and we can get that security footage, okay? Then we can go kick some Crane ass. The best cure for demonic possession is killing people that deserve it!”

There’s a moment of silence. You’re looking at him, confused at first, but then he sees it. That smile, that glint in your eyes. Fuck, if you knew how much he loves seeing that bloodthirsty smile!

Is he good at cheering people up? He knows how to cheer up Chris, but he’s never really paid attention when other people get depressed. But this is different! You’re his girlfriend! His girlfriend that has a pact with a demon that can turn her invisible and is always there…like an invisible third wheel.

“Hey, so if it’s always there, does it watch you every time you kill someone?” Adrian asks this while he’s parking the car, not caring to hide his curiosity. “What about if you’re playing with yourself? What if you’re going to the bathroom? Can it see your dreams, too? Or do you guys have the same dreams when you sleep? Wait, do demons sleep? Or is he awake like all the time?”

You can’t help but laugh. Leave it to Adrian to ask the important questions when there’s a literal demon involved. He’s not even scared, is he? Maybe he was right. Maybe you two really are made for each other. The killing machine and her totally unfazed boyfriend…more like her ecstatic boyfriend.

“I don’t really want to think about that, but yeah. Glasya-Labolas is almost always attached to me. He can see everything I’m able to see, hear everything I can hear. Sometimes he picks up more than I do, though.” Getting out of the car, you can feel blood rush to your face as you realize something.

If you go into Fennel Fields with Adrian when you both have the day off, you won’t be able to beat the allegations that you’re dating. Going in together is going to be like a declaration, like you’re announcing your relationship. Of course, Adrian doesn’t seem to care. He’s tossing your keys to you with a grin, his glasses sitting just a little crookedly on his face. Well, now is as good a time as any.

“So how are we going to get the security footage?” You’re walking alongside him, tucking your bloody hand into your pocket. “We can’t just stroll into the manager’s office and say we need to see how a customer left, can we?”

“I have a plan. Don’t worry about it.” Adrian walks in ahead of you, ignoring the looks that you both get from the rest of the staff and even a few of the regular customers. Clearly, no one has forgotten about him claiming to be in a throuple with you and some other guy yesterday.

You’re lowering your head a little, trying to hide your face. How the fuck are you supposed to look anyone in the eye after that? That new waitress that tried to hit on Adrian is already whispering about you both, gossiping to a table of what you can only assume are her friends.

While you’re trying to ignore the stares of your coworkers and tune out the gossip, Adrian is leading the way to the manager’s office. The manager is sitting at his desk, going over the shift schedule for next week, when Adrian steps into the doorway with you behind him. “Hey. Can I see the security footage for the front door from last night?”

The manager jolts a little, looking up from the schedule. “What are you doing here? It’s your day off. Hang on. Is that-?”

“We need to see the security footage. Please,” you interrupt, not wanting to explain everything to your manager right now.

“Why? What happened?” The manager glances from you to Adrian.

“Because…because someone stole her purse around the end of our shift and we’re trying to find the guy that did it. So, we need to see if his license plate was caught by the cameras,” Adrian rambles, making you glance at him.

“Yeah…that’s right,” you agree.

“And you didn’t file a police report? Did anyone else get robbed?” Understandably, the manager has questions. Unfortunately for you, Adrian has decided to taken it upon himself to answer them..

“We did go to the police and they told us to handle it ourselves. They said it was a waste of their time since her purse was the only one that got taken.” Emboldened by the fact that your boss is just sitting there in silence, Adrian continues. “Yeah, the police chief even said we should just take care of it. Because they’re…shorthanded. Yeah. And since they’re shorthanded, they don’t have enough cops to deal with stuff like this unless it happens more than once.”

“You know…budget cuts. Fiscal year end. Streamlining.” You’re doing your best to support Adrian’s claim, but it’s so hard to keep a straight face. You’re just saying buzz words and, to your astonishment, your manager is just nodding as if it makes perfect sense. Even though you both probably sound like lunatics, he isn’t asking more questions.

The fact that the manager leaves you both alone in the office to look at the surveillance footage is insane. Maybe the whole interaction was just too awkward for him to handle. Maybe he just really needed a cigarette. For whatever reason, he actually agreed to let you look at the video and left you to your own devices in his office.

Adrian is sitting in the manager’s chair, scrolling through frames until he pauses. “Is this the guy?”

“Yeah.” Looking at the computer screen, you see him. You spent a long time committing Jonathan Crane’s face to memory. Those eyes, that jawline, the cheekbones. It’s unmistakably him and he’s getting out of the driver’s seat of a rental car. Not an Uber or a taxi, so you can only assume that he’s either intending to stick around for a while or he’s trying to hide something.

It's not a large vehicle, but there’s enough space in the back for him to carry large cannisters of fear gas if he needs to. Not to mention that the windows are tinted in the back. It would be easy for him to transport that potent gas that caused your family’s death. Just the thought of it makes your throat tighten, makes sweat begin to dot your skin. Glasya-Labolas scoffs in your mind, grumbling with annoyance.

“So we know he’s driving a rental. It looks like a 2016 Toyota RAV4.”

“You can tell that just from this video?” You glance at Adrian, ready to be impressed. He doesn’t really strike you as the kind of guy that can identify a car’s make and model that quickly.

“Uh, yeah.” He taps a fingertip against the glass, drawing your attention to a sign beneath the car’s windshield. It’s obviously a sign from the car rental place and if you squint, you can just barely see that it says the make and model. “Okay, so we just have to look for a black 2016 Toyota RAV4.”

“Can you fast forward to when he left?” Leaning closer, you focus all of your attention on the screen. You watch as he speeds ahead to when the Scarecrow stepped out of the restaurant. He walked back to the car and left the parking lot, turning right and heading east. Not towards the interstate, but deeper into town.

Where are you supposed to check first? As you walk back to the car with Adrian, a picture of the rental car saved in your phone, you know that he might have left town using a back road. That’s usually how you and Adrian get to the smaller towns when you’re killing Cranes together. Of course, he might be in one of the hotels…

“Hospital. We need to go to the hospital.” Sliding into the driver’s seat, you glance over at Adrian. “We’re going to need a plan, but I’m pretty sure that’s where he is.”

Chapter Text

You’re drumming your fingertips on the steering wheel, staring at the ER entrance in the distance. In the passenger seat, Adrian is messing around with his phone. You’ve got a few options now that you’re in the hospital parking lot.

One of you could go into the ER and say you’re having a mental health crisis. If Crane is here posing as a psychiatrist, then you’ll probably see him if you get admitted to the behavioral health wing. Of course, if you’re wrong about him being there, then you’ll risk getting admitted and held for like seventy-two hours. That would be a waste of seventy-two hours.

Another option is posing as a delivery person. You could pretend that you have a delivery for him, go up to the reception desk, and ask where his office is. That would be easy enough. You could even go back to Fennel Fields to pick something up so he’ll think you’re just filling in for the delivery guy.

A better, way more logical option would be for you to just turn invisible with the demon’s help and infiltrate the hospital on your own. You wouldn’t be able to take Adrian with you, but at least you could confirm if Crane is there or not. That’s probably the best option you have. Adrian is going to hate it if you go that route, but maybe you can find a way to make it up to him later.

Glasya-Labolas is murmuring in your head, reminding you not to kill him. No matter how tempting it is, no matter how easy it would be, you need to save the Scarecrow for last. His death has to be the most brutal, the most painful. You need to avenge your family, need to avenge yourself.

“So…why do you think he’s here? Wouldn’t a hospital be the first place someone would look?” Adrian’s voice breaks through the entity’s internal grumbling, dragging your attention to the passenger seat.

You haven’t really thought about that. You were just so focused on finding the Scarecrow that you didn’t consider why he’s in your town or why he would be at the hospital. If he is here, what is he planning? Is he planning to release his fear gas into the building? Experiment on people in the behavioral health wing?

Jonathan Crane doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to pull a “Stalked by My Doctor”, using a fake identity and still pretending to work in the medical field. So, do these people know who he is? There’s no way, right? What kind of lunatic would let the Scarecrow work in their hospital, knowing what he’s done?

“I don’t know,” you finally respond. “I still don’t know how he got out of Arkham. I thought Batman kept track of stuff like this.”

“Oh shit! Do you think Batman is tracking him? I guess we should probably back off. Yeah, we should just let Batman take him back to Arkham. Let’s go to your place and just-”

“What? Adrian, if he’s doing something shady, we have to stop him!” A frown tugs at the corners of your lips. It isn’t like Adrian to back down from a potential fight. You’ve seen him sprint head on into danger over and over again since you started working together. This is the first time he hasn’t been hyped to take down a criminal and deliver some justice.

The truth is, Adrian is having an internal conflict. Which isn’t like him at all! Normally, he wouldn’t even question whether or not he should kill a bad guy! If it was just him or if it was him and Peacemaker, he’d be ecstatic! Taking down someone like the Scarecrow? That would be insane!

The problem is that you’re involved and he doesn’t know what you’re going to do. Yeah, you said that you just want to find out why the Scarecrow is here, but he knows that once your adrenaline starts pumping and you see the Scarecrow’s face, you might snap again. As much as he loves watching you swing that tenderizer and crack open skulls, he can’t let you do it this time.

Adrian can’t let you die! Do you know how hard it’d be to find another girl like you?! He’s going to keep you alive whether you like it or not! Even if he has to make himself the Scarecrow’s personal bodyguard. Even if he has to kill you himself so he can stop you from killing the Scarecrow.

“If the Scarecrow is in there and he’s planning something, I can’t just wait and see if Batman will do something about it! I’m going in!” Ignoring both his and the demon’s warnings to stay in the car, you slam the door behind you and start walking towards the ER entrance.

In the distance, you can see at least five people in the waiting room, through the window. Behind the desk, there are three registration staff members. There’s a nurse emerging from the double doors beside the counter, coming out to get someone from the waiting room.

Glasya-Labolas is snarling at the back of your skull, warning you to go back to the car. Those ancient words in a low, cold voice. He’s telling you that now isn’t the time, as if he doesn’t believe that you can control yourself. As if he thinks that you’ll just go crazy as soon as you get into the hospital and kill the Scarecrow in front of people.

You’re just going to look for him. That’s all. That’s what you tell the demon as you continue towards the entrance and you know now that going invisible isn’t going to be an option. Not when he’s so opposed to you searching for the Scarecrow. So that means you’ll have to think of something else.

It’s as you’re trying to decide on a backup plan that you hear a car door close behind you. The sound of Adrian calling out your name makes you turn in time to see the gun in his hand. You don’t even have time to question him. There’s a sharp, biting pain at the center of your forehead and a rush of pressure before the world tilts, everything going dark as your brain goes blank.

It takes a little while for your brain to regenerate enough for you to see again. When you can, you’re staring up at the ceiling of your car from the backseat. There’s blood caked on your face and down the front of your shirt. The entity is grumbling and you can tell by his tone that he’s chastising you for disobeying.

Shit. It’s the first time that Glasya-Labolas agreed with Adrian on something and you know that the demon knew you were going to be shot. He let you get shot in the head and dragged back to the car as punishment for disobeying him.

Pushing yourself to sit up, you know that you weren’t out for long because the car is pulling into your driveway. When Adrian turns in the driver’s seat to look back at you, you glare at him. “You didn’t have to shoot me.”

“Uh, yeah I did! I said that you should let Batman take care of it, but you just had get out of the car and try to go in there by yourself! You know what? It’s super not cool to ignore your boyfriend! Especially when he’s just trying to keep you alive!” Adrian shoots back, pushing up his glasses a little.

“You shot me in the head, Adrian!”

“Because I knew that I had to stop you from dying for real! You’re welcome, by the way.” He gets out of the car, slamming the door behind him, and stalks off towards the front door before abruptly turning around and coming up to the backseat window. “There’s an old lady in your living room.”

This is pretty fucking bad. You’re covered in blood, with a fresh layer of scar tissue on your forehead. There’s also the added bonus of all of her neon tetras having been eaten by an eagle and replaced with chubby little goldfish. This is bad, really bad. You’re probably going to be evicted and you’re definitely not getting your security deposit back.

You hesitantly walk up to the front door with Adrian behind you, your argument set aside for now. You’re struggling to think of an excuse for why you look so fucked up. Anything you try to say is going to make you sound like a serial killer or like you need to go to the hospital.

The old woman is looking at the fish tank when you step into the living room. As soon as she hears you, she turns to look your way with a slightly puzzled frown on her face. “Now, I’m pretty sure that I left you with neon tetras.”

“I am so sorry,” you start, approaching her. “Something happened and-”

“Oh, don’t apologize, sweetie! If goldfish are more your style, that’s fine! The tetras were pretty, but there’s something so cute about these chubby little goldfish.” Mrs. Rogers smiles at you, despite the bloody mess on your face and shirt. “Oh, sweetie. Did you have another mishap? You should go clean up.”

“What?” You should probably be relieved, but it’s jarring that she’s reacting like this. Any sane human being would be freaked out that you’re standing in their rental house covered in blood, but she’s acting like you just spilled a little coffee on your shirt.

Mrs. Rogers puts a hand on your shoulder, still smiling. “I know that these things happen. It’s alright.” She nods to herself and then turns her gaze to Adrian. “And you…you must be the one we’ve heard so much about. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize that you were her partner. See, there was this nice man that I saw visiting her a few days ago. I assumed he was the one that we’ve been hearing about.”

There’s this coldness spreading down your spine, this prickly sort of feeling that raises alarm bells in your head. “Mrs. Rogers, what do you mean “we”? Do you mean you and your husband?”

Her eyebrows lift and she chuckles. “The congregation, of course! Everyone has been so excited to see you making progress! It’s been hard to keep it a secret, but I’m just so proud of you and how far you’ve come!”

Your stomach clenches as realization washes over you. This sweet little old lady that you’ve been renting from…she practices the same way your parents did, the same way you did as a kid. From what she’s saying, it sounds like there’s a community in town that follows the same practices, probably even a church like the one your parents went to.

“Wait! Is this that cult stuff you were talking about in the car?” Adrian chimes in now, looking at your landlady. It’s weird. She doesn’t look like a cultist. She just looks like a standard little old lady.

“Excuse me? We are not a cult!” Mrs. Rogers snaps. She sighs and shakes her head. “People these days. You wouldn’t know a cult from a choir.” The landlady turns her gaze back to you. “Are you sure that this is who you want as your partner? I’m sure we could find you a nice young man from the congregation.”

“Um…no, that’s okay,” you reply, still trying to be polite despite the shock you were experiencing. “I like Adrian. A lot. So, I don’t really want to meet someone else.” There’s heat rising to your face, as if you’re just talking to your grandma about your boyfriend instead of discussing your best potential murder accomplice.

“Well, alright. If you’re sure. That was all that I needed, sweetie. Oh, almost everything. I wanted to make sure that little Oreo is settling in.” She smiles over at where the cocker spaniel is napping on the couch. “It took him a long time to track you down, you know. You sure moved around a lot those first few years! He couldn’t keep up! It was lucky that I saw him on the side of the road. I knew as soon as I looked at him that I had to bring him to you.”

You know the answer to your next question before it even leaves your mouth. Glasya-Labolas sounds so smug, murmuring within your head in that ancient tongue. “Oreo is connected to Glasya-Labolas, isn’t he?”

“He’s your familiar! My goodness! I’m surprised that your leader didn’t explain that to you when you got your ring! Oreo is here to help you and he’s here to be an extra vessel. Now, I need to get going, but I’ll call you later, alright? There’s a congregation meeting tonight. We’re having a sweet sixteen for Jeannie’s daughter Beth and I need to get the lemon bars started if I want them done in time.”

You’re left standing in your living room with Adrian, staring after your landlady in stunned silence. She’s known the truth about you this whole time?! She’s never said or done anything to make you suspect that she knew! Why is she telling you now?

“So, are we crashing that sweet sixteen?”

“What?” Your head snaps in Adrian’s direction and you see him tapping on the fish tank. “Why would we-?”

“It sounds fun! Come on, Bunny. I know that you want to know what’s going on! And I don’t have any Cranes lined up for us to kill tonight.” Adrian doesn’t need to tell you about the phone call he made while you were dead. You don’t need to know that Peacemaker is going to do some recon at the hospital tonight.

Chapter Text

This cult sucks. Adrian was expecting a bunch of freaks in robes chanting in an abandoned building. Maybe some snake handling or some bloodletting. Instead, it feels like he’s just an uninvited guest at your niece’s birthday party. When that old lady said there was going to be a sweet sixteen party here, he was like ninety-nine percent sure it was code for something like a blood sacrifice or a ritual.

This just looks like a pretty basic church common area. There are folding tables and chairs set up, pink birthday decorations everywhere, a potluck style dinner, and people everywhere. At least two little kids have already bumped into Adrian while they were running around totally unattended. He looks over at the six tiered birthday cake and sighs. It doesn’t even have weird occult stuff on it, just pink frosting roses and icing!

While he’s having the worst time of his life, you’re mingling with the congregation elders and he’s getting weird looks from people. Adrian can’t stop thinking about that shit your landlady said earlier about finding a new partner for you. He still can’t believe she thought Chris was your partner! What’s wrong with Adrian dating you? He’s Vigilante!

He's still trying to wrap his head around the whole “demon possession” thing. It’s always attached to you, but it doesn’t always control you? And it’s the thing keeping you alive, right? So, if you got exorcised by a priest or splashed with holy water, would you just die?

“Why do you look like that serial killer my mom was watching a show about?” Some kid is standing next to Adrian, looking up at him with his mouth hanging open.

“Hey! I’m not a serial killer! I only kill bad people,” Adrian immediately responds, rolling his eyes.

“You kill people?”

Adrian crosses his arms. “No. I don’t. But if I did, I’d only kill bad people. So maybe you should mind your own business.”

From across the room, you can see that Adrian is arguing with a small child, but it’s difficult to pull yourself away from the congregation elders. When you tailed your landlady and slipped into the church uninvited, you expected the congregation to be a little annoyed or shoo you away since you were technically a stranger You didn’t think they were going to welcome you in with open arms like a long-lost family member.

You’re awkwardly standing there with a plate that someone put together for you, piled with everyone’s specialty dishes that they insist you just have to try. Getting congratulated on your progress, being asked if there’s anything you need for your mission. Your landlady is right there at your elbow, beaming like a proud grandparent. As overwhelming as it all is, you still can’t help feeling this little spark of warmth deep inside.

You lost your family. You’ve spent the past few years with a constant distance between you and the people around you, never letting anyone know the truth. Adrian was the first person you let get close to you, followed by Chris to a certain extent. So, to suddenly be surrounded by people that are so happy to see you, people that know the truth about you and wholeheartedly accept you…it makes your chest tighten.

“Do you remember that massacre the next county over? It was in a gated community, wasn’t it?” One of the elders is pulling out his reading glasses and his phone, bringing up an article from one of well over two dozen tabs you can see open. “It was a doctor’s wife…”

“That’s right! They called it a swinger’s party gone wrong, a crime of passion that ended in a murder-suicide!” Your landlady laughs fondly and shakes her head. “That was fantastic work, sweetie. The crime scene photos were a work of art!”

This just went from a sweet moment of acceptance to something macabre, but still bordering on sweet. You never thought you’d see a group of elderly people so amused and impressed by murder. “Oh…I had help with that one. Actually, that was first my kill with my partner Adrian.”

You manage to make eye contact with him and wave for him to come over. He looks uncomfortable and you can’t blame him. Even though everything looks normal on the surface, this is still a…well, you can’t call it a cult, exactly. A group of eccentrics with a love for demons and the occult?

“This is my partner Adrian,” you introduce him, holding his hand. You don’t miss the way the elders exchange glances, how your landlady is giving you that reassuring smile like you just presented the world’s most mediocre finger painting. “He’s my boyfriend.”

“Oh? This is him? Everyone heard that you were with a masked hero,” one of the men comments.

“And, Mrs. Rogers, didn’t you say that Chris Smith was on her doorstep?” It’s an old woman that’s frowning at you now, looking from you to Adrian. “Everyone was so sure that you were working with Peacemaker. He would be such a perfect match for what you have to do!”

“Hey! I’m doing a great job of backing her up! I put together a whole spreadsheet full of Cranes for her to kill and I even color-coded the list!” Adrian can’t help defending himself, even though you were already opening your mouth to stand up for him. “Yeah, maybe we had to have Peacemaker help when we killed that meth dealer, but that’s the only time we needed help!”

“Alright! Calm down, calm down!” The congregation leader finally chimes in, shaking her head. “As long as she has someone reliable to back her up, that’s all we can ask for. She’s been making impressive progress since she came to town.”

From what Adrian knows, you were given some kind of magic ring that linked you with a demon. Like a fucked up Green Lantern situation, but instead of getting flashy powers, you’re just indestructible and you can turn invisible. Maybe that’s better than being like the Green Lantern. Actually, it’s way better!

“You know, some people that have rings go their whole lives without getting a challenge. I’ve only heard of a few people that could finish their challenge, even when they got one. It’s never something easy,” Mrs. Rogers comments.

“That’s true, but our girl here has ambition! I’ve never seen someone tackle their challenge with the enthusiasm she has.” The leader pats you on the shoulder, beaming. “You’re doing your parents proud. You’re doing all of us proud!”

In your head, the entity is snarling something. Calling them cowards, scoffing at the notion that you need their praise when you already have the demon’s approval. It might just be his influence, but you kind of agree that you don’t need their praise. You’re not killing Cranes to make anyone proud; you’re doing it to avenge your family, to avenge yourself.

Glasya-Labolas chuckles in a low, cold echo. Goosebumps raise on your skin and you’re not sure why, but there’s a tightening sensation in your stomach. Flickers of uneasiness that make your grip on Adrian’s hand tighten. No words come out when you open your mouth, your throat seeming to constrict. Almost as if the demon doesn’t want you to speak, doesn’t want you to correct the others and intends to hide your true motives.

When you’re finally able to speak again, you excuse yourself to go congratulate the birthday girl and you pull Adrian along with you. The plate of food is left on a table, your appetite fading fast. “I don’t like this,” you whisper to Adrian, keeping your eyes focused on the other side of the room. You’re walking slowly, slipping your fingers between his for an added layer of support.

“What’s their problem? This is the lamest cult I’ve ever infiltrated.” He looks down at where you’re holding his hand.

“It’s not a cult.” Your hand squeezes his and you plaster on a forced smile as you approach the birthday girl. “Happy birthday, Beth!”

He rolls his eyes and glances toward the door. Adrian wants to leave. He’s bored and he’s still pretty pissed off about what those old people said. This sucks. All he wanted was to go into a cult meeting and take out some violent fanatics. He wanted to smash some faces! He wanted to watch you swipe a guy’s jaw clean off his face with something heavy!

“Adrian!” Chris’s voice rings through the common area from where he’s standing the doorway, dressed in his full Peacemaker costume and helmet. “We have to go! Now! I parked in the handicapped spot so we need to move before…holy shit. Are you guys crashing some kid’s birthday party?”

“Hey! Wait, what’s going on?” Adrian pulls at your hand, trying to walk over to him, but you tighten your grip.

“How did he know we were here?” You watch Chris stride across the room, oblivious to the way the congregation elders seem to perk up at the sight of him. Does he realize he’s walking into a room full of Peacemaker fans? What would he think if he heard what the elders were saying earlier?

“I sent him our location. I always share my location with him! We’re best friends! I share everything with him!”

“You wanted me to check out the hospital so you guys could go to a birthday party? That’s kind of fucked up.” Chris tucks his helmet under his arm, still oblivious to the looks he’s getting. The teenagers you were talking to are tensing up, one of the girls covering her mouth, all focused on him.

“I thought it was going to be something cooler!” Adrian argues, finally pulling his hand away from yours so he can cross his arms. He leans on one hip and seems to completely forget his surroundings.

“Welcome!” The congregation leader walks over, all smiles. “Let us get you a plate. Would you like something to drink? We have punch, soda, draft beer, and we even an IPA that one of the members made themselves.”

“What? Lady, I’m not staying for the party. We have to go. There’s some serious shit going down and we need to take care of it.” Chris lowers his voice as the group of teenagers is shooed away, his eyes darting towards the open doorway. “We have to go. Now.”

“What? Did you find something at the hospital?” Adrian can’t help letting his excitement leak into his voice. If the Scarecrow is doing something fucked up, that’s the perfect chance for him and Peacemaker to catch him and get the guy thrown back into Arkham Asylum! That way, you can’t lose control and kill him!

“What? No! I didn’t go to the hospital. That’s stupid! That’d be the first place someone would look for him! After that bullshit last night with those hillbillies trying to get revenge, I wanted to make sure that Jebediah guy didn’t have anyone else that would target Bunny. And guess what I saw parked in front of the farmhouse.”

As Adrian leans in to look at the blurry picture of a black 2016 Toyota RAV4, you’re quietly seething. What happened after he shot you in the head? How much time did you lose? He planned this behind your back. Adrian went behind your back and sent Chris to check out the hospital! He probably suggested coming to this birthday party just to keep you distracted.

Was he going to catch the Scarecrow himself? Were Adrian and Chris going to handle it without telling you? This is your revenge! This is supposed to be your mission, your reason for continuing to live! So, why…?

That thought slowly sinks in and it brings a chill to your skin, a sinking feeling within your chest. Glasya-Labolas grumbles inside your head, a reassurance mixed with a wave of affection as if to distract you. As if to keep you from questioning your purpose. You never questioned it before.

“Let’s go.” Your voice is flat and you don’t wait for them. Despite the demon’s efforts to distract you, you can’t shake this awful feeling. This uneasiness, this melancholy at the thought that your only purpose now is to kill Jonathan Crane. It never bothered you before, but you were always alone back then. Now, it leaves you feeling empty.

Chapter Text

You’re standing in the church parking lot, staring down at the bags in your trunk and raising an eyebrow. His and hers go bags. Adrian packed his and hers matching go bags in the trunk, stocked with your suits and weapons. You’re not sure if you should be impressed or worried. Especially because you definitely left your suit at home and this is a spare one that he put together himself.

He's humming as he grabs the bags and slings them over his shoulder. “This is gonna be way cooler than that not-cult birthday party. Let’s go kick some ass.” Adrian waits for you to close the trunk and jog to catch up to him before he adds, “But no killing.”

“What? Come on! You’re gonna start throwing Batman rules at her?” Chris is waiting next to Adrian’s car in the handicapped parking spot, arms crossed and helmet back in place on his head.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just looking out for my girlfriend’s best interest. If she kills the Scarecrow and she dies, I’m just going to have her body left and I’m not into necrophilia. And I don’t want to have to carry her everywhere…but I will!”

“Dude, what the hell? She’s standing right there!”

“If I die, I really just want to be put in the ground,” you chime in, opening the back door. You pause when you see Eagly perched on one of the backseats with Oreo sitting in the middle seat. The cocker spaniel licks his own nose when he sees you. “Hey, Chris? Did you drive here with-?”

“Wherever I go, Eagly goes. And Eagly wouldn’t get in the car without the dog. Just get in! We need to get back to the farm!”

You glance back at your own car, but you know it’s in good hands. The congregation will make sure nothing happens to it while you’re gone. Sliding into the backseat with the dog and the eagle, you duck down and open the bag Adrian packed for you. A smile tugs at the corner of your mouth as you pull out the goggles and you glance at the front seat, where Adrian is already putting on his mask.

He didn’t just pack a spare suit for you. The goggles have shatterproof lenses and the strap is a sturdier material. The fabric of the shirt and pants are made of a comfortable, but durable fabric that has better flexibility than what you’re used to. There’s even a bulletproof vest, which makes you realize he’s put a lot of thought into packing this bag. Instead of a gaiter, he packed some sort of lower face mask with a built-in filter.

When you see the weapons, your heart skips a beat and you can hear Glasya-Labolas hum with approval. There are butterflies in your stomach when you lift the brand-new tenderizer, the grip comfortable and molded to the shape of your hand. The knife is a hefty hunting blade with a serrated section that’s going to be perfect for gutting your enemies.

Glancing at Vigilante in the front seat, you almost laugh. This is his love language, isn’t it? Killing, fighting, weapons, armor. It’s intense and brutal in a way that would scare almost anyone else, but you get it. He said it the day after he shot you for the first time and you’d argued with him, but now you know he was right. You get him.

When this is over, when you’re back in your house with Adrian, you’ll have to thank him. However he wants. If he wants to go patrolling for criminals or if he wants to fuck in the woods again, whatever it is, you’ll be on board.

As you’re taking off your shirt to start changing, you happen to glance at the rearview mirror and briefly make eye contact with Peacemaker before his eyes flick back to the road. Beside him, Vigilante is already in his suit. He’s drumming his hands on the dashboard, practically bouncing in his seat.

You’re silent in the backseat, getting prepared both physically and mentally. That thought from earlier is still haunting you. The realization that you only exist now to kill Jonathan Crane. Every dream you had before that horrible night, every hope you had for the future, every goal you wanted to achieve; it’s all faded beneath the vibrancy of your new purpose.

It's not even a matter of guilt. You’ve killed so many people at this point and it never really bothered you. On some level, you can recognize that it’s selfish, but you’re mostly upset that your life hasn’t turned out the way you wanted it to. Sacrificing your ambitions so you could help your family was fine. Giving everything up to become a demon’s personal assassin is completely different.

Even after you kill Jonathan Crane, even if you stay alive afterwards, what will you have left? Can you even try to live a normal life after all of this? Or will you just return to Vigilante? Keep fighting at his side, keep working with Adrian at Fennel Fields and hanging out with him and Chris in the evening? That wouldn’t be such a bad life, would it?

“Shit! He’s gone!” Peacemaker stops the car down the road from the Crane farm and smacks the steering wheel. The driveway in front of the farmhouse is empty. “Damn it! I should’ve slashed his tires!”

“This…might be better.” You glance at Oreo in the backseat and ruffle the dog’s fur before you climb out of the car. “If the Scarecrow was here, then he probably knows about what happened to Jebediah. I don’t know if the son told him or if he was already connected to Jebediah, but I have a bad feeling…”

At the back of your skull, the entity is murmuring in that deep voice. Ancient words that urge you forward, laced with reassurance. You begin taking slow steps towards the farmhouse, placing your trust in the demon’s judgement. You know that the explosives won’t be an issue since Vigilante tripped them all last time to take out some of the crazed bovine assassins.

Behind you, the passenger door slams closed and Vigilante catches up to you in a few strides. If you think he’s not going to go in there with you, you’re insane! This is the kind of shit he lives for and he can already feel himself getting hard from thinking about it! The Scarecrow’s gone, but he knows he might’ve left some henchmen for you to take out and he can’t wait to see you use your new weapons.

Peacemaker takes the car further up the road, planning to park and approach the barn from the opposite side. Now it’s just you and Vigilante, trudging through a field and stepping over the occasional chunk of rotting, exploded cow carcass. He has his bag still slung over his shoulder, beaming under his mask. Vigilante came prepared this time. He packed his bag with extra ammo and some grenades, just in case the shit hits the fan again.

With the sun setting in the distance, this almost feels romantic. Just you and Vigilante, walking side by side through a grassy field. Basked in the orange glow from the sunset on the horizon. The sound of crickets and the swish of the grass around you is the only noise as you both lose yourself in your thoughts.

“You know, you look pretty hot in a bulletproof vest.” Vigilante shatters the peaceful silence because he just can’t hold it in anymore. Seeing you wear the gear he put together for you? It’s the sexiest thing he’s ever seen! You look like you’re ready to smash some skulls and slit some throats! He’s already imagining fucking you in the backseat on the ride home, grabbing that bulletproof vest as he hammers into you.

Beneath your mask, you feel heat blooming in your face. It’s such a weird compliment, but it still makes your heart beat a little faster. You really are made for each other, aren’t you? The maniac and the demon’s assassin. Ignoring the demon’s jealous grumbles, you smile beneath your mask and nudge your shoulder against Vigilante’s.

“You look pretty hot in your armor. Even when you’re putting a bullet in my head.” With a smirk, you jog ahead of him towards the farmhouse. You can hear him hurrying to catch up with you after a few seconds and you pause where the field gives way to the lawn.

Tucked behind a tree, you observe the farmhouse for a moment. The broken window where Peacemaker had busted in last time, the curtains blowing in the wind. It’s silent, still, sitting like a husk with no sign of movement beyond the windows.

The night you killed Jebediah Crane was crazy. You got stabbed through the thigh by a cow’s horn and while Vigilante was dealing with the crazed cattle, Peacemaker carried you through the house. You had to lean on him for support when you dealt the killing blow and you remember leaving the corpse sprawled on the floor of the kitchen. You even remember looking back at him as Peacemaker carried you out of the room, just to make sure the man was really dead.

Why was Jonathan Crane visiting Jebediah’s farm? He doesn’t really strike you as the kind of guy that stays close with family and Jebediah is a distant relative of his. Of course, Jebediah was also a meth dealer. You can’t help wondering if the Scarecrow was using Jebediah’s connections to distribute something extra with the meth or maybe he was lacing it with something.

Vigilante’s shoulder presses against yours as he peers around the tree, looking at the open window. He really wishes he brought a smoke bomb with him. He could just toss it in and scare anyone that’s waiting inside. The second they came running out, he could take them out with a headshot.

“So? What are we waiting for?! I want to get in there and see what kind of crazy shit the Scarecrow has planned!” Vigilante turns to look at you through his red visor, giddy with anticipation. Like a kid just itching to tear open a Christmas present.

As tempting as it is to just rush in there side by side, weapons drawn, you don’t want to risk his safety. “Wait here. I’m going to scope it out first.” You make eye contact with him briefly before pulling your goggles down over your eyes. Glasya-Labolas grunts within your skull and you begin to turn invisible. It begins at your face and then spreads outward, gradually altering every inch of your body until the only evidence of your presence is the flattened grass beneath your feet.

Vigilante rolls his eyes beneath his mask. “It’s not very girlfriend-like to leave your boyfriend behind!” he argues as you begin walking towards the house. He sighs and looks off towards the barn, where he can see Peacemaker checking the perimeter of the building.

It’s weird. It’s really weird. He hasn’t seen a single live cow since the car rolled up to the farm. Last time, there were a ton of them in the field and he knows he didn’t kill all of them with the explosives that night.

He watches Peacemaker check the door and tilts his head when his best friend slides it open. Almost immediately, Peacemaker is closing it again and sprinting across the property towards the line of trees where Vigilante is hiding. “What?! What’s in there?”

“It’s bad, dude! Really fucking bad! Where’s Bunny?” Peacemaker double checks his ammunition and looks back at the barn, every muscle tensed and finger resting on the trigger of his gun.

“Tell me what you saw! Was it the Scarecrow? Was it a ghost? Did the meth dealer turn into a zombie and he’s in the barn eating the cows’ brains? Is it a minotaur from some kind of fucked up experiment? Come on!”

Inside the house, you’re stealthily making your way towards the kitchen at the back. You haven’t heard any movement and it doesn’t feel like there’s someone else here, but something definitely feels off. In your head, Glasya-Labolas has dulled his murmuring. You can’t hear him, but you can feel that he’s annoyed and you don’t know why. Even if you ask him, you know he might not give you an explanation.

As you reach the kitchen doorway, your blood turns to ice in your veins. There’s dried blood on the floor scattered with skull fragments and bits of brain, all left from when you killed Jebediah. The problem is that his corpse isn’t sitting on the floor anymore. His body is nowhere to be seen, but there’s a cannister settled in the pool of blood where you’d left him.

Dread spreads through you, your eyes widening as you instantly recognize what it is. It’s a cannister of fear gas with a timer attached. Specifically placed in the same spot that Jebediah’s corpse was left. The Scarecrow set this up deliberately and you can see the numbers on the timer ticking down. All you can do is turn and run towards the nearest window.

Chapter Text

You’ve never experienced the effects of fear gas before, but you’ve seen what it can do. It can drive a person insane with fear. It can warp their perception, turn a harmless and weak woman into the most horrific monster. You can only imagine that’s what that man saw when he looked at your mother the night he killed her. Sitting weak and terrified in her favorite armchair, still nauseas from attending treatment earlier that day, she must have looked like every nightmare he ever had all rolled into one.

This is no time for spite, no time for rage. You need to escape the farmhouse before that timer goes off and your system is flooded with fear gas. It’s only as you reach the living room that you remember the broken window. Even if you escape, that window is going to let the gas out into the open air. Will that be better or worse than being exposed to it indoors?

Your thoughts immediately go to Vigilante and Peacemaker. Peacemaker said he was going to check out the barn before you split up, but you know that Vigilante isn’t that far from the house. Assuming that he didn’t do something stupid like follow you inside.

Maybe if you can cover it. Maybe if you can disarm it. Sprinting back into the kitchen, you see that you still have time. You have one minute left to decide what to do, one minute to try to save your friends or save yourself.

Rummaging through the drawers and cupboards, you don’t find any tools, but you do find a metal bin and some kitchen towels. You can see the timer still ticking down as you soak the towels in the sink. Sweat is dotting your skin, sticking your clothes to your flesh as your heartbeat thunders in your ears.

This has to work, right? You’ve seen something like this in a movie before, you’re sure of it. As you crouch down to cover the cannister of fear gas and arrange the damp towels around the lip of the bin, your eyes are drawn to something. Movement? No…it’s a blinking light.

For just a few seconds, you freeze in place and stare at it. The red blinking light and the shiny little lens, nestled between some of Jebediah’s retro salt and pepper shakers on the shelf. The Scarecrow is watching you, probably studying your every move and waiting with bated breath for his future assassin to succumb to his chemical cocktail. The worst part is that Glasya-Labolas dropped your invisibility as soon as he was sure that the farmhouse was empty.

Outside, Vigilante is watching Peacemaker. It’s super fucking weird to see him like this. His hands are shaking while he aims his gun at the barn doors and his jaw is clenched. Vigilante is a pretty brave guy, but even he’s a little freaked out seeing someone like Peacemaker get scared.

“Come on! Tell me what’s in there!” He reaches over to put a hand on his shoulder, but Peacemaker flinches away. “Hey.” His voice lowers and he doesn’t back off. Vigilante plants a hand on his shoulder and draws him behind the tree so the barn is out of his line of sight. “Come on. I’m your best friend. You can tell me what you saw. I’ll take care of it.”

“I don’t need help! What? You think that just because I can’t stop shaking, I can’t handle it? I’m not shaking because I’m scared! I’m shaking because I’m energized! I just…I need a second, okay?” Peacemaker’s voice is strained, breaking on the final sentence.

Vigilante lifts both of his hands. “Okay! First of all, that’s a shitty way to talk to your best friend. Especially when I’m just trying to help you!” He looks off towards the house, briefly seeing you at the window before you sprint out of sight again. Tilting his head, his killer instincts are telling him to go into the house.

Just as he takes a step toward the farmhouse, Peacemaker finally speaks again. “It’s cows.”

“What? Wait, were you traumatized by cows?” Vigilante’s eyes wander to the wood pile close to the front door and the axe lodged in the tree stump nearby.

“They’re not normal cows! If you saw the shit that I saw in there, you’d be freaked out, too!” He’s panicking again, peering at the barn from around the tree. “Those aren’t normal cows! There’s something wrong with them. We need to burn it to the ground. If those things get out, we’re all fucked!”

“It can’t be that bad.” He puts his hands on his hips and looks off toward the barn, then glances back at the farmhouse. Curiosity wins and before Peacemaker can try to stop him, Vigilante jogs over to the woodpile. He grabs the axe and starts toward the barn.

In the farmhouse, you can’t see the timer anymore. The cannister of fear gas is under the metal bin, soaked towels surrounding it to try to absorb as much of the mist as possible once it’s released. You have no idea how potent the stuff might be, but you don’t want to stay too close to the bin.

Taking slow steps backwards, moving toward the open kitchen doorway, you don’t take your eyes off of the camera on the shelf. Like staring back into the cold blue eyes of Jonathan Crane himself, your skin prickling with goosebumps as Glasya-Labolas snarls at you to run. You know you can’t run. If the bin gets knocked over when the cannister releases the gas, you’ll have to find a way to contain it as quickly as possible. You don’t want to risk Vigilante getting affected by it.

The last thing you hear before the bin rattles is the entity’s voice shouting from the back of your skull. There’s no time to try to figure out the emotion behind his words because your body is moving with only one objective: protect Vigilante. Like it’s a reflex, like it’s an instinct. You ignore the demon’s snarls and throw yourself over the bin to keep it weighed down over the cannister.

Your blood runs cold as you see the vapor seeping up from the edges, the towels knocked askew when the bin started shaking. Closing your eyes, you bite the inside of your cheek and try to hold your breath. The entity’s voice, the entity’s presence, is suddenly gone and the inside of your skull becomes quiet.

What did your family look like to the man that killed them? Your heart is pounding as your eyelids slide open and cold adrenaline races through your veins. It’s not just fear, but a primal paranoia. The eyes of Jebediah’s stupid little Precious Moments figures on the shelves all seem so wide, their tiny mouths in a perfect, screaming “O” as they all seem to stare down at you.

The walls around you look like they’re alive. Pulsing, writhing, a rhythmic churning as if there’s a heart buried inside. Even when you close your eyes, you can feel things. The skittery sensation of bugs crawling across your flesh, a squirming within your eyes. A fresh layer of sweat dots your skin and you try to convince yourself that this isn’t that bad, but then you make the mistake of standing.

The entire room ignites around you and you swear you can feel the heat of the flames that lick up the legs of the table and chairs. The crackling of sparks, the roar of a fire that’s quickly engulfing the space, fills your ears. You try to push down the growing urge to scream, your throat hot and dry. It feels so real, too real, and you want to run. Everything in you is screaming for you to run and for the first time, you wish you weren’t alone in your head.

Stumbling over to the coat hooks, you snatch Jebediah’s raincoat. You have to keep the rest of the gas contained and you’re not exactly thinking straight. As quickly as possible, you lift the bin, smother the cannister with the raincoat, and put the bin over it again. That should help, even if you did get exposed to a large puff of the fear gas in the process.

The new mask’s filter isn’t made to filter out fear gas, that much is obvious. You’re beginning to shiver as you look around the room, unsure of what to do next. The walls are crawling with millipedes and roaches, all of them ablaze in these bizarre iridescent flames. You can see bugs dripping from the ceiling like water, feel them crawling all over you beneath your clothes. The pressure of so many tiny legs against your skin as they skitter.

You can’t go outside. If you go outside, you don’t know what you’ll do. You don’t know what you’ll see. The gas might make you see Vigilante and Peacemaker the same way that man saw your family. You can’t risk losing your mind and attacking your friends.

Is it paranoia? Is it the onset of insanity? You swear you can hear footsteps coming up from the basement, approaching the kitchen door. Stumbling back a few steps, you keep your eyes locked on that door. Trembling fingers wrap around the grip of your tenderizer as your throat tightens.

All around you, the walls are still writhing and covered in fire. Bugs fall from the ceiling in a squirming, constant rain that makes you queasy. You tense as the basement door opens and a figure steps into view.

Confusion washes over you as you stare back at them. You expected it to be the Scarecrow, to be greeted with the sight of his burlap mask and a smug tone to his voice. Instead, you’re looking at something that makes your knees threaten to buckle. The same height as you, the same build as you, but their features are blurred and masked by a layer of flame that shrouds their body.

They’re another hallucination, right? You know this can’t be real. The fire isn’t real. It’s that fucking fear gas, making you see things that aren’t there. Their flames are different from the fire on the walls. The closer they step, the hotter and drier the air in this suddenly too small kitchen begins to feel.

“Dr. Crane wants to see your face.” Their voice is quiet, hesitant. As if they’re not quite sure of what they’re doing. “Who are you? What are you trying to do?” They hold their arms out at their sides and the flames dancing across their skin grow higher, the heat emanating from them growing more intense. “Look. You’re scaring me.”

You’re stepping backwards, out of the kitchen and into the living room. It’s so tempting to glance over your shoulder towards the front of the house, but you’re afraid to look. The floor looks like it’s cooking and crisping up, the walls in here are oozing something yellowish with a sickly sheen to it like fat or grease. You’re afraid to look back and see Vigilante, terrified that you’ll see something that will make you attack him.

Vigilante is standing in the open doorway to the barn, staring at row after row of…cows. Tilting his head, he squints from inside of his visor. He turns to call back to Peacemaker, “I thought you said they looked fucked up! These are just normal cows!” He steps into the barn and approaches the first pen where five hefty brown and white cows stare back at him.

Leaning against the railing, it slowly dawns on him that something is, in fact, not right about these cattle. “Wait. Weren’t they black and white last time?” Vigilante straightens, looking down the row again. He’s pretty sure the last time he was here, the cattle were black and white. The classic milk cows. These look more like the ones the 4H kids raised when he was in high school.

Vigilante lifts the axe and rests it over his shoulder, watching the cattle. Their heads immediately shift with the movement of the axe, eyes focused on it through the weird haze hanging in the barn. He still doesn’t get why Peacemaker was so freaked out. Waving his free hand in front of his visor to clear some of the mist, he’s pretty disappointed. It’s still not as bad as that “not a cult” birthday party.

A sudden shriek makes him jog out of the barn, hoping that he can find an excuse to bury the axe in some lawbreaker’s face. The shriek came from his car, where Eagly is frantically clawing at the windows and trying to open the car door. He can hear Oreo’s sharp barks even through the door and he can see the dog pacing in the backseat.

“What the fuck? Hey! Be quiet! You’re going to let them know we’re here!” Vigilante glances toward the tree where Peacemaker was hiding before, but the space is empty now. “Peacemaker?” He turns to look at the farmhouse and ducks just in time to avoid a bullet whizzing past his head.

Chapter Text

As a gunshot pierces the silence outside, the tension in the living room snaps. Your fingers wrap tightly around the grip of your tenderizer and you sprint forward, swinging your arm back and focusing on the burning figure standing across the room. Their flames climb higher, swaying and pulsing, before a wall of fire surges from their arms.

You push through it, gritting your teeth against the intense heat, and swing as hard as you can. The tenderizer makes contact with the side of their head, a sickening crunch confirming contact. They stumble to the side, their flames flickering and beginning to waver. You know that you can’t waste even a second and you swing again, this time slamming the spiked surface of the hammer into their shoulder.

Through their fiery veil, you can see the dark gush of blood and hear a scream tear its way up their throat. They refuse to go down, despite the blood dripping down their burning face and their right arm. Twisting sharply, they send another blast of flame in your direction.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as the blast sends you stumbling backwards. You grab the arm of the couch to steady yourself, panting beneath your mask and glaring at the figure through your goggles. This can’t continue. If you push yourself too far, if you act too recklessly, you’re going to fucking die.

Without Glasya-Labolas, you can only handle so much. It’s just lucky that the gear Vigilante gave you seems to have some kind of fire resistance. If you were wearing your usual stuff, you would’ve been engulfed by flames.

Even if you do try to retreat, will you be able to escape? The burning figure is braced against the far wall, dripping blood on the floorboards and crackling quietly as they wait for your next move. “You’re with the doctor? You’re with the Scarecrow?” If you can get them talking, maybe you can buy yourself some time until Glasya-Labolas comes back. Maybe you can convince them to tell you what the fuck Jonathan Crane is planning.

“The doctor wants to see your face.” They lift a burning hand to the side of their head and the veil of fire begins to thin around their eyes. Your pulse accelerates as you make eye contact, true eye contact, with them for the first time. “The doctor needs to see your face. Who are you?”

“Who are you?” Parroting their question back to them, you slowly begin inching toward the broken window. You can hear voices outside, hear Vigilante talking, and your blood turns to ice in your veins.

“Dude, calm down! I was just looking because you wouldn’t tell me what the fuck was wrong with those cows! They’re fine, by the way! Are you having a bad trip or something? I told you that you shouldn’t smoke that shit!”

“Stay the fuck away from me! I don’t know what you did to Vigilante in there, but I’m not falling for this! You’re fucked up, just like those cows!” Peacemaker’s words are followed by another sharp gunshot and your heart sinks.

Your own senses are still being altered by the fear gas. The ceiling is still dripping with squirming centipedes and millipedes, the walls greasy and peeling. If this is what you’re seeing, then you can only imagine the horrific shit that Peacemaker is seeing. It sounds like Vigilante hasn’t been affected so you can only imagine that a second cannister of fear gas was waiting for Peacemaker in the barn.

Across the room, the figure is completely unconcerned with Peacemaker and Vigilante. They’re solely focused on you, as if the others don’t exist. “He made me.” Their voice softens and their flames are beginning to shrink little by little. “He made me. He…empowered me.”

“But who are you?” You persist, edging closer to the window. There’s a part of you that’s still terrified of how you’ll view your friends, with the chemicals still altering your perception, but you know that you need to get out of the farmhouse. Get to Oreo, get Glasya-Labolas to come back, protect Vigilante, subdue Peacemaker somehow without trying to kill him.

“I’m me. I’m…?” The flames grow again as uncertainty and fear leak into their voice. “I’m…?” There’s a weakness to their voice now, a trembling in their hands as their flames lick the ceiling. Shaking their head, they curl their hands into fists and their veil of fire hides their eyes again. “The doctor wants to see your face.”

There’s no way around it, is there? Your grip tightens on the tenderizer as you watch them take a step forward, knowing you’ll have to be quick. Every time you’ve killed in the past, you didn’t feel anything other than satisfaction. This is the first time that you actually feel guilty, the first time you feel a flicker of remorse, because this person isn’t right.

When you close the distance and swing the hammer, there’s a crunch of skull beneath the force and their blood splatters your goggles. There are hot tears brimming along your waterline as you follow them down onto the floor. Ignoring the heat of their flames, swatting their hands away as they frantically try to push you off of them. You have to push through this, you have to survive this, and you know that they won’t give up on exposing you or, worse, killing you.

Clenching your eyes shut, you let the tears spill as the tenderizer continues to strike. Over and over, with a dull wet thudding rhythm that makes your stomach churn. You can hear the impact of the spikes breaking through their skull, the sickening sound of brain matter being ripped and mashed under your strikes. Beneath your knees, the floor is growing wet with their blood and their arms are lying motionless at their sides.

By the time you force yourself to stop, sobs are wracking your chest. You quickly turn your head to the side when you open your eyes, unable to bring yourself to look at the corpse. Their flames have been extinguished with death and you can’t bear the thought of seeing who you really killed.

Pushing yourself to run to the front door, you shift your focus to your checklist. Oreo, Glasya-Labolas, Vigilante, Peacemaker. How you’ll subdue Peacemaker, you’re still not sure. Your main focus is protecting Vigilante, but you don’t want to hurt your friend.

The second that you burst through the front door, you’re met with chaos. The barn door is sitting open, spilling out a suspicious mist into the air. There’s a hellish cacophony of bovine bellows echoing from inside. Eagly and Oreo are going wild in the car down the road, the bird slamming himself against the window over and over again as the glass spiderwebs. In the driveway, Peacemaker has his gun trained on Vigilante until he sees you and you can see a fresh gunshot wound on Vigilante’s right shoulder.

With his gun pointed at you now, Peacemaker’s attention is divided. “What the fuck are you? Where’s Bunny?! What did you do to her?”

Your own perception is still admittedly fucked up. The sky looks like it’s melting beneath the heat of the burning, dripping ball of lava that the sun has become. The once-beautiful sunset is now something straight from a fever dream. When you look at Peacemaker, you’re seeing a distorted version of him. Too muscular, too fierce, and that helmet looks too much like a burning crown when the sunlight hits it.

“Chris, it’s me! I’m Bunny!” Holding up your hands, you remember too late that you’re still holding your tenderizer. Blood and brain matter drip from the spikes and you take a cautious step back. “It’s me! I swear! We breathed in the fear gas-!”

“You’re not Bunny! You’re some kind of fucked up thing that’s wearing her face! Tell me what you did to her, motherfucker!”

Why is there is lava dripping out of his mouth? Your pulse is thundering in your ears as you take a few side steps towards the corner of the farmhouse, not taking your eyes off of him. The longer you stare, the worse it gets. You can see his body bulking up even more, see embers burning beneath his skin.

Every step he takes sends your heart beating faster until the fear finally reaches a peak. Turning, you sprint towards the car parked down the road. You need to get to Oreo, need to get Glasya-Labolas to come back to you, but more than anything, you need to get Peacemaker away from Vigilante.

You can feel the sharp, stinging pain of bullets grazing your limbs and sides. Fighting through the pain, you can feel blood running down your arms and legs as you keep running. In the car, Eagly rams himself against the back window one last time before it shatters. With a piercing shriek that makes you stumble, he bursts out of the back of the car with Oreo clutched in his claws.

You’re forced to throw yourself down in the grass to dodge Eagly and Oreo. The cocker spaniel is barking and squirming, but he doesn’t seem to be in pain. More than anything, he sounds furious. You twist to look back over your shoulder, watching them glide through the air towards the barn. The sight of your dog with the eagle’s wings spread across his back makes your eyes widen.

When you see Peacemaker turn his attention to the flying threat, you know you have to act fast. You can’t let him shoot them, can’t let Oreo die. Running at him, you do the only thing you can. The only thing that won’t maim him.

Vigilante sees it from a distance as he jogs towards the car. He has no idea what the fuck is wrong with you and Peacemaker. Everything is a little crazy right now. Eagly is flying around with Oreo, moving toward the barn. You just threw yourself at Peacemaker and latched onto him like a koala.

“Hey! What are you guys doing? Someone tell me what the fuck is going on!” He frowns inside of his mask, seeing your arms and legs wrapped around his best friend. Peacemaker drops his gun and grabs your hips, trying to pull you off of him. That’s not very girlfriendlike. Or bestfriendlike. What the fuck?

Behind him, there’s a sound that definitely can’t be good. The sound of cows bellowing, the sound of wood breaking, and then the thunder of hooves. More people are killed by cows than sharks each year. That’s the thought in his head as Vigilante breaks into a sprint and adjusts the grip on the axe he picked up earlier.

It’s like the cows have a personal beef with him because he can hear them behind him, charging at him with a symphony of moos and grunts. “Peacemaker! Bunny! Quit dancing and start the car!”

The sound of Vigilante’s voice seems to give Peacemaker the surge of adrenaline needed to dislodge you. His grip on your hips becomes painfully tight and he forces you off of him, throwing you backwards in the grass. Immediately, he crouches down for his gun again and takes aim at you.

You freeze, staring up at his fiery, bulky form. Behind your goggles, your eyes are wide with panic. “Chris…come on. Don’t do this. It’s me! It’s Bunny! The fear gas is-!”

“Shut up! Take off her face! Take it off and tell me what you did! Where’s Vigilante? Where’s Bunny? What did you do to them?!”

There’s no convincing him. Not while fear and rage are overriding his sense of logic. You can only hope that when he pulls the trigger, he doesn’t hit something vital. If you can just hold out until Glasya-Labolas comes back, everything should be okay, right?

Just as you try to glance in the direction Eagly flew with Oreo, you catch sight of Vigilante’s rapid approach. A fresh wave of fear shoots through you at the sight of him. At the back of your mind, you know it’s him, but at the same time, it doesn’t look like him. A black and teal, scaly reptilian monster with a single red eye glowing in the center of its face. You try to fight the fear that threatens to consume you, but the closer he gets, the more nightmarish he becomes.

You can’t do it. Your fight or flight instincts override reason as you struggle to your feet. Peacemaker’s gun is still trained on you as you grip your tenderizer and knife. Goosebumps spread across your flesh as you sprint past him at the scaly monster. A bullet punches through your back as you reach Vigilante, your knife plunging into his stomach as you fall forward.

Chapter Text

Vigilante can see your eyes, staring at him in widened horror as your knees buckle. There’s a fucking knife stuck in his stomach, but that doesn’t stop him from throwing his arm around your waist. He can still hear the thunder of hooves charging from the barn and he knows it’s just a matter of time before the cows attack.

He’s never seen you look scared before. You’re clinging to him and he can see tears pooling at the edge of your goggles. Whatever happened in the farmhouse, it must’ve really fucked you up.

“What the fuck are those things?!” Peacemaker’s gun turns from you and Vigilante to the stampeding cattle.

“Oh shit!” With a burst of adrenaline, he hoists you over his shoulder and sprints toward the vehicle sitting in the grass a few feet away. Vigilante throws himself into the backseat with you, slamming the door just as the cattle reach Peacemaker. As he yanks your knife out of his stomach, he sees the cow at the head of the stampede approach his best friend.

Peacemaker tucks his gun into its holster and prepares to grab the cow’s horns. Instead of the epic bovine wrestling match he was probably hoping for, he takes a headbutt straight to the chest and his body is sent flying backwards. He lands on the hood of the car with a loud crash, the metal crumpling under his bulk like paper.

“Holy shit! Bunny, I can’t believe you stabbed me! What the fuck?!” Vigilante looks down at the tear in his armor, checking out the gushing wound on his lower abdomen. “Great! Now I’m gonna have to sew this up!”

When he doesn’t get a response from you, Vigilante looks from his stab wound to where you’re leaning against the door on the opposite side of the backseat. You’re breathing raggedly and pressing a hand against your collarbone, slouching forward a little. “What are you doing? Hey! Don’t ignore me! Say something!”

As the cattle begin battering the sides of the car and making it rock, Vigilante leans closer and he can see the wound. “Shit. Oh, shit. Bunny. Hey, look at me. Keep your head up and look at me.”

The vest must have slipped. The vest must have slipped just low enough to leave a part of your upper back exposed and now he can see the bullet lodged in your flesh, just below your collarbone. Since you’re not just digging it out with your fingers and healing yourself, he knows that your demon friend or whatever that thing is decided to detach from you again.

On the hood of the car, Peacemaker is twitching back to consciousness. Vigilante watches as he pulls himself towards the center of the hood, keeping his back to the windshield and watching the cattle. The cows are circling the car now, taking the occasional run at the side and making the vehicle lurch.

“Get in the car!” he calls to Peacemaker. If he can get him into the car, then all three of you can just drive away from this and regroup. He didn’t bring enough firepower to take out this many cows and there’s obviously something wrong with you and Peacemaker. The problem is that Peacemaker has his car keys.

You’re trembling and your tears are starting to leak from the edge of your goggles. It’s Vigilante. You know that it’s Vigilante who’s sitting in the backseat with you and trying to pry the bullet out of your upper chest. That doesn’t change the fact that the chemicals in your body are making him look like a teal and black lizardman with one large red eye in the center of his face and no mouth.

“Keep your hand here.” He grabs your wrist and pins your palm against the hole in your skin. Vigilante leans in closer, his free hand reaching out to push your goggles up. Behind his red visor, you can see his eyes moving. You can see him looking you up and down. “Where’s the demon?”

That’s right. Glasya-Labolas. He would have gone into Oreo’s body, right? Where’s Oreo? Still trembling, you look through the rear window towards the barn. Your eyes widen as you see Eagly circling back and swooping towards the stampede with Oreo in his claws.

With your free hand, you point at the black and white cocker spaniel. The dog is dangling below Eagly, barking furiously and thrashing his front legs. When you see Eagly release his grasp on the dog, your blood runs cold and you choke on a scream. The little dog falls, disappearing right into the swarm of fear-infected cattle, and you’re imagining the worst when it happens.

There’s a low, booming bark that seems to vibrate the air around you. The car shakes beneath the force of the sound, causing you and Vigilante to tense in the backseat. From the corner of your eye, you see Peacemaker gripping onto the dip in the front of the car where the windshield wipers are housed. It isn’t one simple yap; it’s a series of increasingly loud barks that eventually give way to a baying that’s so low and intense that it feels like your organs are vibrating.

“Holy shit!” Vigilante leans closer to the busted rear window, watching the cattle scatter. There’s a small black and white figure snapping at their legs, its eyes solid black and mouth frothing. He can see blood on Oreo’s muzzle as he chases the cows, herding them away from the car.

His head snaps back towards the front of the car and he makes eye contact with Peacemaker through his visor. “Dude! Get in the fucking car before they come back!”

For the first time today, Peacemaker actually listens to him. Whether it’s because he’s that afraid of the cows or because whatever was fucking with his head wore off, you don’t know. You press your palm harder against the gunshot wound he inflicted on you and watch him duck into the front seat. The doors click locked, not that it matters since the entire rear window is in pieces.

The adrenaline can only keep you conscious for so long. The intense pain from where he shot your arms and legs is starting to set in again. There’s blood smearing on the backseat and you can hear Vigilante complaining about how badly his car got fucked up. It might be funny if you weren’t slowly bleeding to death.

The vibrations from Oreo’s barks keep rocking the car and you slump back against the door again, letting your head rest against the window. This has been the worst mission you’ve been on so far. You knew you weren’t going to kill the Scarecrow today, but you didn’t expect the absolute shit show that you ended up facing.

There are still so many questions swirling in your head. What happened to Jebediah’s corpse? You know that you killed him. Peacemaker had even urged you to crush the guy’s skull to a pulpy mess of brain and bone. How much does the Scarecrow know about your mission?

What really bothers you is how the Scarecrow conveniently fled the farm before you could get there. Peacemaker did make a scene when he showed up at the church to tell you and Vigilante about the sighting, but the congregation wouldn’t betray you, would they? What if someone at the church overhead and they were in contact with Jonathan Crane? It would be detrimental to your mission…

When did you close your eyes? You blink and stare groggily at Vigilante, struggling to keep your head lifted. The teal and black monster is gone, replaced by your crazy vigilante boyfriend, but you can’t even convey that the fear gas has worn off. It feels like each time you lower your eyelids, they want to stay closed. It feels so warm when they’re closed, so nice.

“Fuck! I can’t fucking believe this! Did you see that shit?! I got hit by a cow!” Peacemaker smacks his hand against the steering wheel, shaking his head.

“Dude, what the hell happened?! You shot me! And you shot Bunny!” Vigilante is putting your hand over your wound again, but you’re not even sure when it slipped. He presses it tight against your wound and looks out through the rear window again. “Where’s the dog?”

“What? Wait…no. I didn’t shoot you guys. I shot those creepy things that were wearing your faces! The jackalope thing and that…” He looks back at you in the rearview mirror and his mouth falls open. “Oh shit! Shit, shit, shit! What the fuck?! I thought she can’t die!”

It’s getting hard to focus on what they’re saying, getting hard to keep your eyes focused on Vigilante. You have no idea what’s going on with the crazed cattle. When the car rocks again, you just assume that it’s being hit by another cow or one of Oreo’s demonic barks. It isn’t until you hear the click of Oreo’s sharp nails on the back of the car that you realize he’s finally back.

“Good dog! Come here, boy.” Peacemaker tries to call the dog into the front seat, but Oreo climbs onto your lap instead. “Where’s Eagly?”

“Uh…closing the barn?” Vigilante has to squint to see it, but it looks like the eagle actually managed to get the barn door closed. The cows are just wandering around a field now, munching on grass, but at least the freaky mist isn’t coming out of the barn anymore.

You eagerly lean down to let the dog’s nose tap against your forehead. Oreo licks your face as you hear the disapproving hum of Glasya-Labolas at the back of your skull. The demon is grumbling about Peacemaker, grumbling about Vigilante, snarling at you for stupidly trying to smother the fear bomb instead of running. While he complains, he focuses on healing your gunshot wound so you’re forced to listen to his ranting as you heal. As always, you don’t understand the words themselves, but you’re able to feel his intention behind each murmur.

The dog stands up on his hind legs to look out the back window, watching Eagly glide towards the car. His little tail is wagging and you reach out to pet him. You know how it feels when the demon snarls his commands and it has to be even more unsettling for a dog to go through that. Oreo seems perfectly fine, other than his anxiety about being separated from Eagly. As soon as the bird settles himself into the front seat, Oreo completely abandons you to curl up in the front with the eagle.

You can feel a tugging at your wounds as they seal up. It’s a squirming sort of feeling and you try to distract yourself from it by thinking about the burning figure you fought. The car starts and Peacemaker begins driving back toward town, but you can’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right about what happened in the farmhouse.

Who were they? They were the same height as you, they had the same build as you. When the thin veil of fire parted, their eyes made your blood turn to ice in your veins. The eyes staring back at you from that flame-masked face looked too much like your own eyes.

Even more unsettling is the fact that when you look at your tenderizer, you don’t see any blood. You don’t see any chips of skull or bits of brain matter. There’s no blood on your goggles. You swear that you could feel the heat of their flames, that you felt their blood splatter across your face when you broke their skull open. You heard their voice! They kept saying that the doctor wanted to see your face.

What exactly happened in the farmhouse? What if they weren’t real? What if the fear gas was so potent that you hallucinated and just imagined that they were there? Something doesn’t feel right about that, though. Why would your hallucination be so intent on making you reveal your identity and why would it claim that the Scarecrow empowered them?

The entity is sifting through your thoughts to learn about what it missed. When Glasya-Labolas murmurs in your head, you can’t understand the emotion behind the ancient words. You don’t know what the demon is thinking, what he’s feeling. When you begin to question him in your head, new words vibrate in your skull and a flood of emotion spreads through your brain. Comfort, affection, adoration; enough love to lull you into a temporary sense of security.

Looking at Vigilante, you can see him trying to pull the rip in his suit closed with his gloved fingertips. “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah! I’m fine! Totally fine! I just got stabbed in the stomach by my girlfriend and my best friend shot me a couple of times, but I’m just great! So who’s gonna explain what the fuck happened back there?”

Chapter Text

It feels too real. The fiery hellscape all around you, the intense heat licking at your flesh. The hard floor beneath your broken and bloody body, the sight of corpses strewn across the floor. Your nostrils burn with the smell of cooking flesh and singed hair, the chemical stink of fabric being scorched and reduced to ashes.

You can’t move, you can’t speak. All you can do is lie there on the floor in a pool of blood, watching the flames creep closer and closer. Listening to the screams of your sibling distort and shift until the voice is no longer theirs, but someone else’s. It’s Adrian’s voice, shouting in agony, and hot tears spill down your cheeks.

Your fingertips dig into the rough surface of the floor and you struggle to push yourself up on your elbows, blood dripping down the side of your face. Your eyelashes are clumped together with gummy, bloody globs and your head is throbbing as if someone took a pickaxe to your skull. Still, the sound of Adrian in pain pushes you to keep moving.

Even though you can barely see through the inferno burning in the room, you still manage to force yourself to stand and charge in the direction of his voice. You can’t lose him! You can’t let him die! Not here, not like this!

All at once, everything begins to warp. The world around you twists and turns, shifting into the farmhouse kitchen. Your eyes widen in horror at the feeling of a knife’s handle in your hand, at the sight of Adrian suddenly in front of you. Without his mask, without his suit, the blade sinking deep into his midsection. Blood blooms at the center of his shirt, drips down from the corner of his mouth, runs from his nose as he looks at you.

“…Bunny…” The voice that leaves his lips isn’t Adrian’s. It’s low, dark, cold. Like a winter river, like a voice not used to speaking English. Like a voice not used to human languages.

Stirring awake, you find yourself lying on the floor of the hotel room you rented last night with your cheek against the carpet. Your breathing is panicked, unsteady. There are tears blurring the edges of your vision, which you quickly wipe away. You can’t let anyone see, can’t let anyone know.

Sitting up, you rest your back against the side of the bed where Adrian is still asleep. Even after rubbing your face and trying to reassure yourself that he’s okay, you can’t shake that feeling of panic. That sense of danger. You know that none of you are safe.

The Scarecrow knows that you’re trying to kill him and someone from the church is probably working with him. Why? You have no fucking clue. Maybe it’s part of their “task” or whatever for their own demon. All you know is that you can’t trust the congregation, can’t even trust your own landlady.

That being the case, you know that you should move. You should pack up your belongings and move on to the next town with your dog. Honestly, this is the longest you’ve ever stayed in one town. Normally, you would’ve slain a few Cranes and moved already. What’s been keeping you here is Vigilante, which makes you realize that he’s your weakness.

That whole time at the Crane ranch, your main focus was trying to protect him. Protecting him from the fear gas, from Peacemaker, from yourself. You failed. You stabbed him in the stomach because you let yourself succumb to panic.

Pushing yourself onto your knees, you glance over at the second bed to see that Chris was the first person to wake up. His bed is empty and the sheets are hanging over the edge of the mattress. With Eagly and Oreo missing, you can guess that he probably took the dog for a walk. In front of you, Adrian is sleeping with what was supposed to be your pillow tucked under his arm like he’s spooning with it. He didn’t even bother to take off his glasses before he fell asleep and they’re sitting crookedly on the bridge of his nose, his hair mussed.

He's cute. You lean back and rub your face again, feeling your cheeks heat up beneath your fingertips. Damn it. He’s cute. He’s always pretty fucking cute. Whether he’s excitedly telling you about a brutal triple kill that he did or if he’s humming offkey while he’s clearing a table at Fennel Fields.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This never happens! Your purpose, your whole reason for continuing to live, is to wipe out Jonathan Crane’s bloodline. You’re not supposed to make connections, you’re not supposed to get attached to anyone. You’re supposed to be…disposable. A tool. The killing machine for Glasya-Labolas.

You’re in love with Adrian, aren’t you? You’ve fallen in love with the maniac that shot you in the head and stashed your corpse in a mini van in a junkyard. You’re head over heels, arrow through the heart, for the guy that pronounces the word “churro” like he’s never heard it said aloud before. The man that once high-fived you after you both cleared out a den of drug dealers, the man that is refusing to let you die even after you kill the Scarecrow.

Very, very gently, you reach out and slide his glasses off his face before he can bend the stems even more. Setting them aside, your eyes wander to his midsection. He changed out of his suit when you got to the hotel and the shirt he’s wearing is riding up just enough to give you a glimpse of his stomach.

Briefly glancing at his face, you make sure he’s still asleep before you lean closer and carefully drag the edge of his shirt higher. His stomach is pretty toned, which isn’t surprising, but what makes your eyes widen is the total lack of a stomach wound. All you can see is a faded scar where your knife plunged into his gut yesterday.

What is he? Adrian has never mentioned having any powers. He’s never mentioned having a demon attached to him like you do. You know for a fact that you really did stab him because his blood was still on your knife when the car pulled into the parking lot. You watched him strip off his suit, you saw the blood and the tear in his skin!

In the back of your head, Glasya-Labolas is murmuring something. You can recognize Adrian’s name in what he’s saying, but he’s not annoyed with him for once. He’s intrigued, which is probably even more dangerous for your boyfriend. It just reinforces what you already know: you need to leave Adrian, for his own safety.

Whether he has the ability to regenerate or not, you can’t put him through another situation like the Crane ranch. It’s not fair to him and you don’t know how much he can actually take. You can’t let him die. You can’t put him at risk.

You climb onto the bed, wanting just one more day with him. One day to be together before you have to leave. You settle behind him on the mattress and slip your arm around his waist, closing your eyes. His hair smells like the cheap shampoo that the hotel has stocked in the bathroom, his skin smells like the bar soap from the little plastic packet, but none of that really matters, does it? You just want to be close to him for a little longer.

The entity is scoffing at you. He’s taunting you for becoming so attached to someone that can die, mocking you for wanting to protect Adrian. Glasya-Labolas is repeating what he told you before. You don’t need anyone else. Just him, in your head, together forever. What can a human give you that he can’t?

Together forever. You hug Adrian closer, pushing your chest against his back. Your throat feels tight and your heart is pounding, your blood rushing in your ears, as you try to just focus on him and memorizing this moment.

There’s still so much that you haven’t been able to do together. He never got to teach you how to shoot. You never got to finish what you started in the woods. You’ll never get to drive home together after a shift at the restaurant, never get to fall asleep together like you did last night. Tears brim in your eyes as you press your forehead against the back of his neck. You’ll never get to lie next to him like this, never get to hear him rant about you stealing his kill.

Adrian is staring at the blurry hotel room, not giving you any sign that he’s awake. You’ve never done something like this before. It’s jarring, but it’s not bad. He can feel your soft breasts against his back and he can feel your hand on his stomach, resting right over where you stabbed him. It’s pretty nice until he feels you starting to shake a little.

He finally speaks up, breaking the silence in the hotel room. “What are you doing, Bunny?” Behind him, you’re tensing up. Your hand is starting to slide away from his stomach, but he puts his hand over yours to keep it there. “Dude. Are you crying? Don’t tell me you’re still upset about stabbing me! Yeah, it was super uncool, but look! I’m fine!”

“I could’ve killed you, Adrian.” Your voice sounds too quiet and he doesn’t like that weird rasp to it.

“So? I’ve tried to kill you like twice! Well, four times, but you don’t know about two of those times.”

“Wait…what?” Your tone changes and he beams as you count the times he’s tried to kill you. “You shot me in that garage that first night. And then you shot me in the hospital parking lot. Adrian, when did you try to kill me besides those times? And why?”

“I just wanted to make sure you couldn’t really die! It’s not like those two extra times worked anyway! I was pretty sure you wouldn’t stay dead,” he argues, absolutely loving this. This is what he likes. Adrian doesn’t like it when you get brooding and emotional about shit that doesn’t matter.

Yeah, you could’ve killed him last night, but you didn’t. It was annoying that you stabbed him, but he’s fine. He just needed to sleep it off. You’re going to kill the mood if you start crying again and Adrian is trying to enjoy being the little spoon, so he’s not going to let you mope again.

Adrian shuffles a little, pushing his back tighter against your chest, and he slips your hand under his shirt as he starts planning. You said you can’t keep living at that rental place because you don’t know if your landlady is working with the Scarecrow. You should just move in with him! Then he can track the Scarecrow and when the time is right, he can be the one to kill the guy for you! It’s the perfect plan and Adrian is happy until you totally ruin the moment.

“Adrian, I can’t stay here. I’ve stayed in this town for too long. I usually move on after a few weeks, at the most. I need to leave.” Your voice is quiet again and he can feel your hand shaking a little when he presses it against his abs.

For a moment, he just lets that sink in. His mouth twists into a frown and he sighs, closing his eyes. “Okay, so where are we going? The next county? The next state? We’ll have to take your car. Mine’s pretty fucked up from that cow attack.”

“I have to go by myself. Look, if the Scarecrow knows I’m trying to kill him, he’s going to try to kill me first. And if he realizes that I can’t die, he’s going to target the people around me. I can’t let what happened last night happen to you again, Adrian. We…we have to break up.”

His hand presses tighter over yours and he opens his eyes again. “Uh, excuse me? You don’t get to just decide that by yourself, Bunny! We’re partners, remember? And wherever you go, I’m going with you! You can’t just decide it’s too dangerous for me and break things off!

“Come on! I’m trying to do what’s best for you! I don’t want to break up, but I don’t want to lose you! I don’t want something to happen to you!”

In a few quick moves, you turn him onto his back and sit on his waist, bracing yourself over him. Your face feels hot, your view of his face is distorted by tears, but you keep your eyes on his. “I…goddamn it! I love you, okay? You maniac! I’m trying to keep you safe and you’re making this harder than it needs to be! So just-!”

Whatever else you have to say, it dies on your tongue when he grabs your shoulders and smashes your lips down against his. Your fingers grip at the pillow under his head, lips moving against Adrian’s as you share your first kiss. After over a month of apparently dating, after having sex in the forest and slaying your way through a man’s bloodline together, you’re having your first kiss with Adrian.

His hands slide down your back, slowly, and finally come to rest on your hips. Adrian pulls your body closer and he bucks his hips, feeling himself get hard beneath you. “Shut up.” His mouth is moving against yours, his fingertips digging into your hips. “If you try leaving without me, I’m just gonna follow you. You know that.”

Chapter Text

“Corrinthleigh Crane.” Adrian leans down next to you with his phone out, ignoring the glare that the manager shoots his way. “She can be our next target! I was doing research on Cranes that don’t live in this county and she’s in the next state! It’ll be perfect!”

You’re in the middle of wrapping silverware and almost drop a butterknife when you hear him. “No. Look, we need to lay low for a while. After what happened at the farm, I can’t do anything that’s going to bring attention to me!” You keep your voice lowered to a whisper, glancing toward the rest of the dining area. It’s pretty empty, with just that lovely old couple that gave you weird looks a few days ago.

“Come on! It’s going to look more suspicious if you stop killing!” He sits in the booth next to you, dropping his dish tub on the tabletop. Adrian puts his phone in front of your face, practically bouncing with excitement. “I looked at her Facebook and she’s doing some really shady shit in her “home studio”.”

Just to humor him, you look at the screen and a frown tugs at your lips. Yeah, Corrinthleigh looks pretty shady. Her Facebook says she does at-home lip injections, butt lifts, and even liposuction. She’d be a perfect target, too. She lives one state over, doesn’t seem to live in a gated community, no dogs, spouses or kids on her Facebook page.

Still, there’s a lingering paranoia after what happened at the farm. The Scarecrow had at least one camera set up in the farmhouse. He had been waiting for Peacemaker to leave before setting everything up in the hopes of uncovering your identity. You knew that was his only objective because the burning woman wasn’t attacking to kill; she was intent on baring your face to the camera.

Thinking about her makes your stomach churn, raises a sense of nausea that makes you clench your teeth. Any time she crosses your mind, you begin to question your sanity. You’ve lied awake on the floor in Chris’s trailer, staring at the ceiling with Oreo curled up beside you, wondering if she really had been a hallucination.

She had your eyes. She was the same height as you, the same build as you. That should be evidence enough that she probably wasn’t real. You just can’t stop thinking about how real it felt. When you were smashing her skull, when her blood was splashing across your goggles.

“She’s perfect!” Adrian insists. “We have the next two days off. We can make it a road trip. Just like when we went after Patricia.”

Remembering the Tupperware Party Massacre, you wince. It was the first time you had help killing someone. In a twisted way, it’s actually a milestone in your relationship with Adrian. The first time you killed together, the first time he slept over at your house. The first time you cared about someone, since you lost your family.

Glasya-Labolas chuckles. You can hear him murmuring in your head, feel the vibrations across your brain. He’s annoyed that you haven’t questioned Adrian about how that stomach wound healed so quickly. He’s curious about Adrian in a way that still really concerns you, so you’ve been trying to keep a bit of distance from him.

For the past few days, you’ve been staying with Chris in his trailer. Oreo has been having a blast since he gets to be with Eagly and Chris seems to like having the dog around. That doesn’t mean that it hasn’t been awkward. Quietly slipping outside when he very obviously wants some private time, waking up to the sound of Eagly screeching to be let outside.

“Yeah. You’re right. Let’s do it,” you agree. Partially to hear the demon’s reaction, partially so you can let Chris have his trailer to himself for a few days. It’s just supposed to be temporary, until you can find a new place, but you still can’t help feeling like you’re imposing.

The demon’s chuckle comes again, humming across your brain and echoing against the inside of your skull. Encouragement, enthusiasm. You’re unsettled by how excited Glasya-Labolas is for this little road trip, but you know you can’t back out of it now. If you tell Adrian that you changed your mind, you’ll probably wake up in the morning tied up in the trunk of your own car with him in the driver’s seat.

A grin spreads across his face and you know you couldn’t say “no” even if you wanted to. Not when he looks so cute, so pumped for a fresh kill. “Pick me up at seven. This is gonna be the best!”

You watch him pick up the dish tub and walk off, humming to himself and practically bouncing in place when he pauses to clear a table. Lowering your head, you try to hide the smile settling on your lips. Ignoring how the demon grumbles at your giddiness, you focus on finishing the mundane task before you.

Around an hour later, you’re waiting tables and trying to plan for tomorrow’s kill. What are the odds that the Scarecrow would’ve warned every Crane in the tri-state area about your mission? If anything, he might be waiting for another Crane death on the news before he tries anything again. He wouldn’t be looking out for his extended family’s best interest and you know that most of his family wouldn’t be capable of taking you in a fight anyway.

“Table for four? Right this way. We have an open four top in her section. She should be with you to take your drink orders in a few minutes.” The hostess shoots you a look and nods at the table of four before hurrying back to the front.

You finish setting down the orders for the table you’re at, not bothering to glance over while you work. It isn’t until you’re turning towards the new group of customers that your stomach clenches and you can feel sweat beading on your skin. It takes a lot to make you feel this uneasy, but seeing your landlady, the congregation leader, a teenage girl, and a middle-aged man at the table…it sets you on edge just a little bit.

As you’re approaching, you put on your best customer service smile. Still remembering how the Scarecrow just happened to know that you’d return to the farm after Peacemaker made a scene about it in the church. Someone at Beth’s sweet sixteen had to have notified Jonathan Crane. Someone stabbed you in the back, tried to botch your mission, and you still don’t know who it was or why they did it.

“Good afternoon. Can I get you started with some drinks?” There’s a tension in your voice and your grip subconsciously tightens on your notepad.

“Do you know how worried I’ve been?” Your landlady, Mrs. Rogers, frowns and shakes her head. “When the neighbors said that you never made it home, I just knew that something was wrong. Where have you been staying? Please tell me that you found somewhere safe to sleep at night.”

“You’re owed an apology, we know,” the congregation leader speaks up. She shoots a glare across the table at the middle-aged man. Beside him, the teenage girl, who you now recognize as the birthday girl, lowers her gaze to the tabletop in what seems to be embarrassment. “Display your penance.”

Before you can speak, you see the man bring his hands from under the table. He sets a small black velvet box on the tabletop and it’s then that you see it. The thumb is missing off of his right hand and there’s a bloody bandage wrapped around his hand. He can’t even look you in the eyes as he opens the box, displaying his crudely severed thumb.

Your voice catches in your throat. You’ve severed people’s limbs before, even decapitated a few kills, but it’s somehow different when it’s someone else’s work. An act of self-mutilation. An act of penance, apology. “What did you do?” Somehow, your voice is steady when you finally find it.

“Joshua committed a sin against the congregation.” The church leader closes the box and pushes it towards you, offering it for you to take. “Joshua is a representative for a pharmaceuticals company. He believed that selling out a valued member of his community would be worth it to get Dr. Crane’s approval. When you betray one member of our community, you betray all of us. And now, every time he tries to use his dominant hand, he’ll be reminded of his betrayal and feel ashamed of himself.”

Wow! That’s so fucking crazy! Adrian is clearing the table next to the one where your weird cult friends are sitting, listening in on the conversation. No, it’s not eavesdropping! He just happens to hear everything they’re saying! Even if he was eavesdropping, it’s like eavesdropping for the sake of your safety!

That’s the kind of crazy shit he was expecting to see at that sweet sixteen. Blood sacrifices! Mutilation! Maybe some chanting and demon summoning! Maybe he’ll have to check out the cult after work. He’s not going to go back to the church, obviously, but they probably have a Facebook group or website he can look at.

Walking off with a tub full of dirty dishes, he’s already planning his evening. Grab some supplies for the road trip tomorrow, get on his alt account on Facebook and try to look up your cult. You guys worship demons or something, right? Shit! There are probably at least five Facebook groups for cults like that! You didn’t even tell me what your cult is called!

Adrian drops off the dishes in the kitchen and heads off to clear another table when he pauses, almost dropping a plate. He has to do a double-take when he glances at the front of the restaurant, making sure that he knows what he’s seeing. You only showed him a picture once, but he has a pretty good memory. He likes to think so, anyway. He has a good memory when it comes to animal facts.

That guy standing at the hostess stand looks like the same guy you wanted to stab with a pen. Adrian squints and pushes up his glasses, but he’s pretty sure that’s the guy. The glasses, the blue eyes, those weirdly high cheekbones. That’s the Scarecrow. Holy shit, that’s the Scarecrow!

He actually drops the plate now, making it crack when it hits the inside of the tub. The impact is loud enough to draw your attention and the attention of those cult members. “Oopsie! Just dropped something. Nope! Doesn’t look broken! Maybe a little cracked, but I can superglue it! Hey, did you know that you can use superglue to keep a stab wound closed?”

“That’s…really interesting, Adrian.” You give him a thumbs up and the people at your table look confused, but you get it. You get him. You love him, remember?

Adrian rides the little high he gets from remembering when you said you love him, but he knows he has to do something about the Scarecrow. What is he doing here? Did he figure out that Adrian is Vigilante? No, there’s no way! He kept his mask on the whole time he was at the farm!

Maybe he figured out that you’re the one who killed the meth dealer. Is he going to try anything in the restaurant? Squinting at the guy again, Adrian frowns to himself. Is that really what the Scarecrow looks like under his mask? This guy doesn’t look like a super villain.

Shit! This isn’t about whether he looks like a super villain or not! Adrian has to keep you from killing the guy! If you kill him, you might die! Like, actually die! Dead-dead, totally gone, just a cold motionless body he’d have to find a way to preserve so you wouldn’t get all gross and rotten.

He looks over at you. You’re still talking to those cult people about something. Drink orders? What do cult members drink? Hang on! Are they all getting diet colas? That doesn’t seem like a cult drink of choice.

His eyes dart to where the Scarecrow is being led over to a table in your section. Adrian can tell you haven’t noticed him yet because you’re still pretty calm. If you had noticed him, you would have that murderous look in your eyes. That murderous, bloodthirsty, sexy as fuck look that makes him grin just thinking about it. He has to push that thought aside as he totally abandons his dish tub and the half-cleared table.

Is Adrian trained to wait tables? Not exactly, but he’s watched you enough to know how to do it. Besides, he can’t let you wait on the Scarecrow again! Even if killing the Scarecrow doesn’t automatically kill you, you’ll still be risking getting arrested for murdering the guy in middle of a public place. Yeah, Adrian would wait for you to get out of jail, but he’d rather just make sure you don’t get arrested.

He doesn’t have a notepad and pen, but he does have a half of a chewed-up crayon he swiped from one of the tables he bussed and he has a napkin. Adrian steps up to the table where the Scarecrow is and he tries to mimic that smile you put on when you’re waiting tables. “Hey. What do you want to drink?”

Chapter Text

Adrian didn’t think this through, but that’s fine. He’s great at improvising! You still haven’t noticed the Scarecrow sitting in your section because every time you look over, Adrian strategically blocks your view of the table. The problem is that he’s starting to run out of trivia about soft drinks.

“Coca-Cola used to have cocaine in it. That’s pretty crazy, right? Can you imagine watching Santa chug a bottle of cocaine cola, like in those old commercials? Hey, do you think cocaine would be legal if they didn’t change the recipe? The Coca-Cola company probably has connections in the government, so they could’ve made it legal. But if you do that, it’s a slippery slope before they would legalize meth, then crack, and then where would we be?”

Jonathan Crane has been sitting in silence for the past ten minutes, seemingly overwhelmed by the amount of soft drink facts that he’s learning today. He’s looking up at Adrian over the rim of his glasses and his mouth is drawing down at the corners. “Can I order now?”

“Why? Do you have somewhere to be? If you’re in a hurry, maybe you should just go to a drive-thru instead.” Adrian can hear you coming back from the kitchen with an order and he moves again. He can’t let you see the Scarecrow, so he does the only thing that comes to mind. He puts a hand on the back of the other man’s seat and he leans down to block your view, hovering over the man.

“Adrian, do you want me to take these dishes back for you?” You’re calling out to him from a few tables away, finally noticing the tub of dirty dishes that he abandoned. It’s weird that he’d leave a table half-bussed, but you know him well enough by now to know he most likely got distracted. Judging by how close he is to that table, he probably knows that customer and wanted to take care of them himself.

“Thanks, Bunny!” He turns to look back at you for a few seconds and there’s something “off” about his face. It’s hard to place what it is, though. He’s not smiling, but he’s not frowning. There’s just something weird about his eyes and you don’t get a good look at them before he turns his attention back to the customer.

You try to shrug it off as you finish clearing the table. He’s usually a little weird and you know how pumped he gets about going with you to kill a Crane. Maybe he’s just hyper, like that time you took out a couple of drug dealers and he insisted on racing you across their property back to the car. You’re still a little upset that he won that race.

As you carry the tub of dishes to the kitchen, you’re thinking about the plans for tomorrow. It doesn’t have to be all about the killing. Even though that thought makes the entity huff inside of your skull, there’s a part of you that just wants to be able to enjoy the time between murders.

It’s been eating at you since the reality of your situation sank in, right before the Crane farm incident. Ever since you lost your family, ever since Glasya-Labolas brought you back from the brink of death for the first time, you’ve been living as a puppet. Continuing to live, just for the sole purpose of killing the Scarecrow’s family.

Can you even call that a purpose? You’re like the killing hammer in an old-fashioned slaughterhouse, like the syringe bearing a lethal injection. Just a tool used to end lives one after the other. The time between your family’s death and meeting Vigilante was just one long blur. It feels like you’re slowly coming out of a dream, and you want to believe that there’s more to your continued existence.

While you’re having an existential crisis at the sink, Adrian is still standing near the Scarecrow’s table. If he takes his order, can he get the drink and come back to the table before you notice him? How is he going to get the Scarecrow’s order to the kitchen and deliver it to him without you seeing him?

“That woman’s name is Bunny?” Jonathan Crane is looking down at the menu when he asks this. His eyes move side to side, reading a salad description.

“Uh, no. Who would name their kid Bunny? What? Like it’s short for Rabbit?” Adrian scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Bunny’s just the nickname I gave her.”

“She was my waitress last time,” the Scarecrow comments. He leans back in his seat and looks towards the kitchen. “Is she alright? She looked like she was having some sort of-”

“She’s fine! Totally fine! I took her to the hospital later and everything! What do you want to drink? Did you know that four out of four cult members pick diet cola? That’s crazy, right?! Why do you think they pick diet cola? Do you think it’s like a psychological thing?”

Setting the menu down, the Scarecrow fixes Adrian with a cold stare. “I think I’ll wait for her to take my order. Feel free to check on the other tables.”

“What?” Adrian glances towards the kitchen and he can feel his pulse quickening. He can’t let it happen. He can’t let you see this guy, let alone talk to him! If you see the Scarecrow, you’re going to go crazy again. Adrian knows you better than anyone else and he knows you won’t be able to hold back if you see the Scarecrow sitting in your section. “She…can’t. She’s busy.”

“I don’t mind waiting.” Jonathan rests his hands on top of the menu, lacing his fingers as he stares back at Adrian. Analyzing him, looking for any trace of weakness that he can exploit. Too bad for him: Adrian is a master at hiding stuff like that.

“Well, she’s not going to come over here. She doesn’t like guys that wear glasses, so she’s probably going to avoid this table. Yeah. You’d be better off going somewhere else. Even if she does come over here, she’s not gonna be nice.” Pushing up his glasses, Adrian pauses and he waits. He can hear someone in the kitchen say your name and he’s grateful that something is keeping you from coming back to the dining room.

You’re following another waitress through the kitchen to the back of the restaurant, your hands tucked into your pockets. The box is in your right pocket, the severed thumb still neatly tucked inside like a trinket. What are you even supposed to do with it? The church leader told you that it was supposed to serve as an apology from the guy that ratted you out to the Scarecrow, but you really don’t want to keep this thing. Glasya-Labolas doesn’t want it, either. He’s been grumbling for you to throw it away, but you can’t do that in Fennel Fields.

“I was taking my smoke break and this guy said he saw a dog run under your car. I think he said it was black and white.” The other waitress opens the door and points in the direction of your car.

A sigh slips past your lips and you rub your face. Sure enough, there’s a man near your car. He’s leaning down, whistling and trying to coax the dog out. You can only imagine that Oreo slipped away from Chris and wandered here to look for you. It’s surprising that Eagly didn’t just corral him back into the trailer.

“Can you cover my tables while I sort this out? It shouldn’t take long. I just have that four top and a table that Adrian’s been hanging around.”

“Sure thing.”

What are you going to do? You won’t have time to drive him back to Chris. You’ll probably have to leave him in the car and text Chris to come pick him up. It’s just another thing on top of the stuff you’re already worrying about. The congregation, the “murder road trip” with Adrian tomorrow, deciding if you want to move into the rental again or find somewhere else to live, your potential insanity, that fun little existential crisis from earlier.

“Hey! I’m sorry, I think that might be my dog. I really appreciate the help, but I can take it from here,” you call to the stranger.

He’s not the Scarecrow. You know that immediately. He isn’t even a Crane because he doesn’t ignite that instant surge of violence that Cranes do. No, as you get closer, he just looks like an average middle aged guy. Maybe a little older than middle age.

Dark hair that’s a little longer on top, a pair of sunglasses perched on his face. He’s wearing jeans and an open button-down denim shirt with a black t-shirt underneath. Honestly, he seems like a random good Samaritan that happened to see a dog that looked like it needed help.

As he straightens up, he sighs and brushes some dirt off the knees of his jeans. “I don’t mind helping out. I wanted to catch the little guy myself, but he’s not moving. Pretty sure he was limping when he ran under there.”

“What?” Your chest tightens as you reach the front of your car, but something makes you pause. From the back of your skull, there’s a low snarl that carries the message that Oreo isn’t here. The demon can’t tell you if there really is a dog under the car, but it can assure you that it doesn’t sense your cocker spaniel anywhere nearby.

The stranger can see your hesitation and his head turns toward your car again. “Might’ve been hit by a car. Maybe you can coax it out. You said it might be your dog.”

“What kind of dog was it?” Somehow, you manage to keep your voice lowered and level. Hiding the unease coiling in your chest, the chill that’s raising goosebumps across your skin. This doesn’t feel like the fear you experienced when you were subjected to the fear gas, doesn’t compare to the tension that filled every muscle in your body when you were face to face with the Scarecrow.

“Why’s it matter? You’re just gonna go back inside if it’s not your dog? Look, just help me coax it out and I’ll take care of it if it’s not yours.”

There are alarm bells going off in your head. A childhood memory surfaces. Your parents giving you and your younger sibling the “stranger danger” talk, telling you that a stranger might pretend to have a puppy in their car just to lure you in. You take a step back as he crouches down again.

He’s rubbing his fingers together like he’s trying to coax out a feral cat and he whistles. “Shit! Is that blood?”

The demon growls in your head and you take another step back. “I’ll call animal control. They can probably handle this better than we can,” you offer, not taking your eyes off of him. Your eyes widen and your heart sinks when he reaches under the car. There’s a sharp yelp and his hand draws back quickly, his fingertips glistening with blood.

You can’t get close to this stranger, you know that. The thought of there really being a wounded dog under your car tugs at your heartstrings, though. You’re imagining Oreo, injured and fucking terrified, and it’s enough to make your throat tighten. “I’ll stand on the other side,” you force out. “Maybe you can scare them and I can catch them when they try to run.”

“Good plan.” His eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses when he looks up and gives you a nod. He stays crouched as you walk to the other side of the car, turning his attention to the underside of it again. “I’m gonna make a loud noise to try to scare it,” he warns.

“Okay.” You prepare yourself for the worst. Watching the ground beneath your car, muscles tensed, ready to grab the wounded dog as gently as possible. It’s just unfortunate, really unfortunate, that Glasya-Labolas couldn’t foresee the future. The demon could only tell you that Oreo wasn’t nearby; it had no way of knowing if there truly was a dog under the car or what the stranger’s intentions really are.

You’re anticipating a shout or a sharp whistle to drive the dog out. Instead, everything suddenly goes dark and silent. Your body falls to the ground, hard, and your mind goes blank. Like a light turning off. Unable to move, unable to see, unable to hear or make a sound.

Glasya-Labolas works fast, healing you and trying to stabilize you. Both of you know that you need to fight and your senses return enough for you to feel your body being moved. You don’t know how much time has passed, but you’re falling onto a plastic tarp on the floor of a car trunk. It’s a fight to open your eyes and the smell of blood fills your senses as you stare up at the stranger’s silhouette, the sun shining brightly behind him.

“Shit. That thing inside you works faster than I thought.” He reaches into his open denim shirt and withdraws a syringe. Before you can start to move, the tip of the needle is being shoved beneath your skin and everything goes dark again. “That should buy me some more time.”

Chapter Text

That’s not good. Adrian is standing beside your car after his shift ended, staring in through the driver’s side window. Your car is still sitting in the parking lot behind Fennel Fields, your purse is tucked under his arm because you left it in the restaurant, and no one has seen you since around two o’clock in the afternoon.

“Shit…” He digs around in your purse for your car keys to unlock the door and he looks around inside for some sign of what might’ve happened. No notes, no weird clues to tell him where you went. If you had to go somewhere, you would’ve told him, right? Or you would’ve at least left him a note or a napkin or a matchbook or something to tell him where to find you!

Sitting in the driver’s seat, he rests his forehead against the steering wheel. Did you leave without him? You wouldn’t do that to him, would you? Just earlier today, you guys were planning to take a road trip on your next day off! You wouldn’t agree to that if you were planning to leave!

Is this your way of breaking up with him? Did you break up with him and leave town to go find someone else to help you kill Jonathan Crane’s family? The thought of that is worse than the thought of you dying. If you were dead, Adrian would at least still have your body with him.

He draws his phone out of his pocket and calls Chris, leaning back in the seat and closing his eyes. Maybe you just went home early. Maybe you’re hanging out with Chris…just without Adrian. Fuck, that makes him feel even worse. His best friend and his girlfriend hanging out without him?

“Come on. Please pick up.” His throat feels tight, which is weird. It doesn’t hurt, but it just feels really tight and his voice sounds weird to him when he talks. The phone rings over and over and over until it goes to voicemail.

“Peacemaker! I was just wondering if Bunny came home early.” A laugh slips out of him as his view of the steering wheel starts to get blurry. “It’s super weird! Her car is still at Fennel Fields and she didn’t take her purse with her! Isn’t that weird? But she probably just forgot them. It’s cool. I’ll just bring them both to your place. See you soon!”

You’re just hanging out with Chris. That’s why you left work early. That’s why Chris didn’t answer his phone. It’s fine! Adrian’s not mad. He’s just happy that you didn’t leave town without him, you didn’t break up with him! That would’ve been a really fucked up way to break up with someone!

When Adrian moves to close the car door, your purse falls out and hits the ground with a thud. “Shit!” He leans down to grab it and recoils when his fingertips touch something sticky. They’re coated in something dark red when he brings his hand up to get a look and when Adrian licks his fingertips, he immediately recognizes the taste.

“Why is there fake blood in the parking lot?” He climbs out of your car and crouches down, tossing your purse into the front seat. Leaning down, Adrian can see a little puddle of fake blood. Yeah, it looks pretty realistic. It’s the right shade of dark reddish brown so it just looks like old blood, but it tastes like corn syrup and Red 40 with a little hint of chocolate syrup.

There’s fake blood under your car and you disappeared in the middle of your shift. He frowns and stands up, looking around for any other clues he might’ve missed. That’s when he sees the waitress that took over your section coming out of the back door. What if she did something to you? What if she lured you outside and did something to you so she could steal your section and get all of your tips?

“Oh! Are you taking her car home for her?” She walks over, car keys jingling in her hand. “I was wondering why she didn’t come back. I guess it was her dog after all.” The woman glances at the fake blood on Adrian’s fingers and she smacks her forehead with the palm of her hand. “Shit! I forgot to tell you! This old guy said he saw a dog under her car and she came out here to check it out!”

He's only half-listening to what she’s saying, latching onto one or two key details that he thinks are linked to your disappearance. The Scarecrow was in Fennel Fields today, so the old guy she’s talking about was probably one of his henchmen! What if the Scarecrow was just distracting him while he had someone else lure you outside to kidnap you?

Adrian doesn’t wait for her to finish talking. Your car is pulling out of the parking lot in a matter of seconds, his phone pinned between his ear and shoulder as he speeds in the direction of Chris’s place. “Peacemaker! Bunny got kidnapped by the Scarecrow! I’m coming to pick you up!”

At the same time that Adrian is speeding down the street, you’re slowly regaining consciousness and wishing you could’ve stayed in the dreamless abyss. The meaty, metallic odor of blood is so strong that it makes your stomach turn. It only gets worse when you register the horrific fact that you can only see out of your left eye, but you can feel it when your right eyelid blinks.

The room you’re in is dimly lit and you’re lying on your side on a concrete floor. Your hair and clothes are damp, the fabric clinging to your body and feeling a little sticky when you try to move. Movement is impossible, pain instantly surging through your nerves and making you go still. Breathing raggedly, the vision in your left eye is blurry. You blink again and something isn’t right with your right eye socket.

“Don’t try to move. You’re just gonna make it hurt more.” The voice that penetrates the silence of this dim room is vaguely familiar, drawing forward memories of the guy in the sunglasses from the parking lot.

Footsteps approach you from behind and he walks around you to grab a chair from where its sitting against the wall. He drags it over, stopping right in front of you, and he takes a seat. His elbows rest on his knees as he leans down, his sunglasses now folded and tucked into the breast pocket of his open denim shirt. For a moment, he just looks down at you and you can see his eyes for the first time. Such a calm shade of hazel, such a contrast to the dark splotches of your blood on his clothes.

Glasya-Labolas is snarling within your skull, swearing and barking death threats in that ancient language that no human mouth could speak. Wincing at the force of the demon’s rage, you know that you missed something. While you were dead or unconscious, something happened between the demon and the man sitting in front of you. The bruise blooming on the side of his face is evidence enough of that. With him leaning forward, you can even see a few busted blood vessels beneath his skin.

“It’s talking to you again, isn’t it?” He doesn’t look smug, doesn’t look amused. If anything, there’s something in his stare that almost reflects concern, maybe a hint of guilt. “What’s it telling you?” He uses your name, your first name, when he asks this.

You want to attack, want to fight him and escape, but even just twitching your fingers brings too much pain. It’s sharp and the agony seems to pulse along your fingers even after going still. Something about your hands isn’t right, just like with your eye, but you can’t see them because they’re bound behind your back.

Opening your mouth hurts, your jaw throbbing, but you push yourself to speak. “He wants you to drown in your own blood and he wants your bowels to flood with acid. He wants to see your guts burn from the inside out while your eyes cook in their sockets.” Your tongue traces along the rows of your teeth and you can feel a few missing, the brush over the empty sockets sending jolts of pain through your bloody gums.

He lets out a short huff of a laugh and runs a hand over his hair, his knuckles busted and caked with dried blood. “I bet he does. He didn’t let you go down easy. Gave me one hell of a fight. If I didn’t have that holy water, I don’t know if I would’ve survived.”

His eyes shift away from your face, looking you up and down. You’re sprawled on your side, broken and drenched with a mix of holy water and blood. Most of it is yours, but some of it is his. He can see his blood smeared across your cheek, beneath the mess of your right eye socket.

Swallowing blood, you manage to lift your head a little. Fighting against the sharp zings of agony spreading through your body, you look down at what he did to you. Your stomach clenches and churns, a dry heave making you close your eyelids. Even at a glance, you know that both of your legs are broken. Something smashed them directly at the joints and they were bent sharply, long pins driven into them like stakes.

Your arms are no better off. Looking over your shoulder, you can see that every finger has been broken. Your left index finger and your last three fingers on your right hand are missing down to the middle knuckle. There are long metal pins sticking through your elbows, keeping them flexed and continuously bleeding.

Breathing becomes difficult with what you’re sure are multiple broken ribs so you let your head rest against the cold wet concrete again. Looking up at him with your left eye, you try to ignore the tickle in your chest, the unbearable urge to cough. So familiar, so nostalgic when you recognize where you are. This is the same old garage where you first met Vigilante and he shot you in the head.

“I told you not to move around. You’re just gonna make it hurt more,” the stranger reminds you, leaning back in his chair. He looks off to the left and then lowers his eyes to you again. “Do painkillers even work on you?”

“What?” It’s such an odd thing to ask, given the circumstances. This fucking maniac has you on the verge of death and he’s asking if you can take painkillers?

“Look, you’ve just gotta put up with it for a few more hours.” He leaves the chair and crosses the room, leaving your line of sight, but he keeps talking to you. “I had to find a way to keep you from healing, so the pins have to stay in. The holy water is gonna keep your little friend from using your body like a puppet to attack me again. I don’t think you were even alive when it did it last time.”

The man returns and crouches down with a bottle of water and a couple of pills. “Not gonna do much, but it might help.” He slides an arm under your upper half and eases you up to a sitting position. The stranger slips the pills onto your tongue and pours some water into your mouth, not lowering you again until you swallow. “There we go. See? I’m not such a bad guy. I just need you to be a good girl and play your role. As soon as I get what I need, I’ll take those pins out.”

The tiny hairs at the back of your neck are raising as you process what he said. This man knows you. He studied you, gathered all of the info he needed to make sure he could render you totally helpless. As long as there’s something preventing your body from returning to its normal state, Glasya-Labolas can’t heal you. That explains why he shoved pins into your joints and you can only imagine that the holy water is preventing the demon from healing your other wounds.

“You took out my eye!” you snarl, glaring up at him. To your frustration, you can’t fight him when he grips your jaw with his bloody fingers.

“You’ve lost worse. You’ll just grow it back.” Those words make you tense and he can feel it. He can see the growing panic in your eye, he can see how your chest rises and falls faster as you begin to realize just how much he knows about you. Still, he doesn’t smirk.

“What happened to you wasn’t fair.” He releases your jaw and leans back, but he uses the back of his fingers to wipe some blood off your cheek. “I’ve seen your file. Read the report about what happened. Losing your whole family all in one night, being the sole survivor. And you killed the son of a bitch that did it to you.”

Closing your eye, you try to calm yourself. You still don’t know who this man is or how he could possibly know so much about you. Even if he just read the police report about the break-in and homicide, he shouldn’t know so much about your link with Glasya-Labolas. “You don’t know shit about me,” you hiss.

“I know that you’ve been wasting your potential, trying to get revenge on the Scarecrow.” Gripping the front of your shirt, he lifts your limp body off the floor and tosses you onto a wooden table. Pain shoots through every fiber of your being, a sharp yelp escaping your lips. Warm fingertips skim along the side of your face in a terrifyingly tender contrast to the violent act of throwing you. “Shhh…you’re fine. Just a little longer and this will all be over.”

Chapter Text

Something about this doesn’t feel right. You don’t know how long you’ve been lying on the table, but the stranger hasn’t done anything else to you. He’s pacing along the far wall or walking over to the broken window to look outside, occasionally checking his phone. He hasn’t hurt you further, he hasn’t given you any explanation as to why he kidnapped you and left you incapacitated.

When you try to question Glasya-Labolas, the demon doesn’t have an answer. All you get is a grumbling from the back of your skull, a surge of outrage and something you’ve never felt from the entity before. Suspicion, something close to worry, but not for your safety. It’s a different kind of anxiety that leaves a prickling sensation across the surface of your skin.

Why did this man kidnap you? Why did he fuck you up so much? If you weren’t you, there’s a really good chance that you wouldn’t have survived what he did to you. This stranger even held his own against your body when the demon used it to fight him. He’s smart, he’s prepared, he’s experienced.

That tickle in your chest from your broken ribs makes you cough, speckling the worn wooden surface beneath your cheek red. The taste of iron fills your mouth and lingers on your lips. Behind your back, your fingers twitch and a surge of pain races through your hands. A grunt slips past your lips, drawing his attention back to you.

Moving across the dim garage, his expression contorts when he sees the blood around your mouth. “Shit. Okay, hang on. Spit it out if you have some in your mouth; you don’t wanna swallow that.” He bends down to grab the water bottle from earlier and puts it next to you on the table.

With unsettling gentleness, he slips an arm beneath your back to prop you up. He uncaps the bottle with his free hand and brings it to your lips, urging you to sip and rinse your mouth before spitting off to the side. The stranger continues to support you even afterwards, letting you gulp the water to rehydrate yourself.

“Easy, easy. You’re gonna get sick if you drink too much too fast,” he mutters, holding you up. When you turn your head to the side, he sets the bottle down and carefully lowers your upper half onto the flat surface again. “There you go. That’s better.”

This is weird. This is really fucking weird. Why is he being so gentle with you, after he beat the shit out of you and broke all of your limbs? Why does he care if you choke on your own blood? While he wipes some blood away from your mouth with his thumb, you avert your gaze because looking at him right now would feel way too intimate.

“Why are you doing this?” The words come out surprisingly steady and you briefly glance up at him before looking away again. “You said that it would be over soon. Are you…are you going to kill me? Are you waiting for the Scarecrow to show up and finish me off?”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with the Scarecrow. I needed somebody who can’t die and you just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He finishes wiping the blood off your mouth and his fingertips trace along the side of your face, pausing near your empty right eye socket. “Wish I didn’t have to get as rough as I did. You didn’t deserve that. Probably hurts like hell.”

The entity is snarling something and you wince as the words boom within your skull, echoing against your brain. Gritting your teeth, you close your eyes and try to soothe the demon, but you know it’s a losing battle. Glasya-Labolas hates this man more than he hates Chris, more than he used to hate Adrian. There’s something about this stranger, something beyond the fact that he tortured you. Glasya-Labolas finally gifts you with a single English word that burns within your head: threat.

“Is it talking again?” The stranger grips your jaw, holding your head in place and staring down at you when you finally open your eye. Your breathing is ragged and there’s sweat dotting your skin. He leans down a little more. “You can tell me what it’s saying to you. I’m not gonna blame you if it’s pissed off.”

You swallow hard and, against the demon’s advice, you tell him. “He says you’re a threat.”

The corners of his mouth draw back into a smile and he loosens his grip on your face. The rough pad of his thumb traces the edge of your jaw as he responds. “He’s got that right.”

“You were prepared for him,” you finally point out. “You had holy water. And you knew too much about me. About us. You even knew about my dog and tried to use him to lure me out!”

“But it worked, didn’t it? Look, I’m not saying this is all some big coincidence. When I said you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, I didn’t mean that I just happened to find you. You’ve been on my radar for a while now. You really think you can take out that many petty criminals and small-time drug dealers without catching someone’s attention?”

Leaning closer, his hazel eyes scan your face as he takes in your growing panic, but he isn’t smiling anymore. There’s something else in the place of that flash of amusement, something that scares you even more. It’s concern.

“I wasn’t lying when I said you’re wasting your potential. You’ve got a gift, even without that parasite latched onto you. You’re a killing machine, but you’ve got a talent for it. Something a lot of people have to work for and a lot of people don’t have the stomach for.”

A killing machine. Glasya-Labolas’s undying killing machine. Your purpose, your fate, your only reason for still being alive. Isn’t that what was bothering you in Fennel Fields, right before you went outside?

Right before you stepped into this mess, you were struggling with the fact that you’re only alive to kill Jonathan Crane and his entire bloodline. In the beginning, you believed that you were doing it for yourself, but you’ve started to question who it’s really for. The demon keeps pushing you, keeps healing you and reviving you, sending surges of adrenaline through your veins every time you find one of the Scarecrow’s kin.

“You’ve just gotta rein that thing in and remind it whose body this is,” he continues, his tone gentler. Like he’s trying to soothe you, like he’s trying to lull you into a sense of comfort, and it’s unfortunately working. “I can get you the help you need. We can find somebody that can help you tame that thing, but you’d have to come with me.”

The entity roars in outrage, spitting venomous vitriol in that ancient tongue. It’s a constant vibration against your skull, making you clench your eyes shut again as tears roll freely from the corners. Threats, warnings, bitter proclamations that it will devour this man’s soul. It’s only then, through the demon’s snarling, that you learn the man’s name. Your lips move silently, forming his name: Rick Flag.

“I came here for someone else. If I can’t get her to come with me, I’m taking you instead. So, think it over. We still have an hour before sundown. If you wanna come with me anyway and try to get this thing under control, I’ll help you.” He pauses before he turns away and begins walking back to the other side of the other room. “I’m not offering to help you because I think you’re some charity case. I’m offering because what happened to you wasn’t fair and I know you can do better than small town vigilante shit.”

While you’re absorbing all of this new information, Adrian and Chris have been aimlessly driving around trying to find the church again. If they can get the address of that asshole that sold you out last time, they can search the guy’s house for you. And if you’re not tied up in his basement or something, they can always interrogate him or even torture him if they have to.

When Adrian pulled up next to Chris’s trailer, he was fuming to find that Chris had ignored his calls because he was walking Oreo. He looks at him now, from the corner of his eye, his grip on the steering wheel tightening a little. “You prioritized walking Oreo over answering my call! It was an emergency! Bunny probably got kidnapped by the Scarecrow and you’re too busy with your new best friend to care!”

“Hey! I didn’t know why you were calling! You call me all the time! You called me at three in the morning the other day just to ask me if I think someone could shoot through six people with one bullet! It’s totally possible! I saw it online!” In the passenger seat, Chris is sitting with Oreo in his lap while the dog sticks his head out the window.

“So, you’re not even going to deny it! Oreo is your new best friend! I see how it is! You like him more than me! Why? Because he licks your face and pees outside? I’ve done both of those things!”

“I didn’t say that! And you haven’t licked my face. Right?” He turns his attention away from the dog to look at Adrian, but Adrian is looking at the church in the distance. “Dude. When did you lick my face?”

“It’s not like I wanted to do it! I had to do it! You were passed out! I was just being a good friend and making sure you were alive! Your skin tasted gross, by the way!” Pulling into the parking lot, Adrian looks at the sign in front of the church for the first time and pushes up his glasses.

“The Church of Solomon?” Chris gets out and sets Oreo on the ground, holding onto his leash.

“Oh! Oh shit! I get it! It’s like that book of demons. I had to look it up for a D&D campaign. It’s the Ars Goetia! Biblical stuff! Did you know there are seventy-two demons?” Adrian walks up the stairs ahead of him, pushing open the double doors. He’s pretty proud of his pronunciation. He memorized it just so he could say it right during the campaign.

“So that’s like the cult’s bible? That demon book thing?” Behind him, Chris doesn’t even hesitate to lead the cocker spaniel into the church. Oreo is just happily trotting alongside him, wagging his tail and sniffing at the air.

“Yeah, probably! Bunny said her parents went to one of these churches in Gotham.” He pauses in the chapel, looking around the empty pews. He’s pretty sure that cult leader is in here somewhere. He saw her Volkswagen at the restaurant and the same one is parked outside. Maybe she’s in the bathroom? He did watch her drink like five diet cokes when she was at Fennel Fields.

“It’s really weird, though. Last time Bunny was in trouble, the demon went into Oreo and turned him into a guard dog. Remember that? You and Bunny were all fucked up from the fear gas, but Oreo was herding the cows! It was crazy! Cocker spaniels aren’t even livestock dogs!” Adrian looks back at Chris and then down at Oreo.

The black and white dog is sitting on the floor, chewing on one of his hind legs. Crouching down to be on eye level with him, Adrian stares unblinkingly at the dog. “Hey. Are you a demon? Where’s Bunny? Can you show us where Bunny is?”

“He isn’t Lassie! You really think Oreo can show us where she is?”

“Hey! You don’t know that he doesn’t have some kind of magic demon tracking power or something!”

“Can I help you?” A voice near the pulpit snaps their attention to the front of the chapel, where the congregation leader is standing. She doesn’t look like a cult leader, even when she’s behind the pulpit. She’s wearing a cardigan and khakis instead of a hooded robe that’s splattered with virgin blood.

As soon as her eyes focus on Chris, her expression brightens. “Oh, hello again! It’s Chris Smith, isn’t it? Are you interested in joining our congregation? We always welcoming new members and we would love to have you join us!”

“Cut the sales pitch, lady. We need to know the name of the guy that sold out my girlfriend and we need to know where he lives. Right now. And if you don’t tell us, we’re not afraid to break a few pews and knock over a few candleholders until you do!”

Chapter Text

When did you pass out? You’re opening your eyes and instead of seeing Flag or the dim interior of the garage, you’re staring down at your own lap. Your hands are resting on your thighs, limp and motionless. At some point, he untied your wrists and you can see that your missing fingers are slowly beginning to grow back.

It’s still surreal to watch it happen. How the cells multiply, how the tissue knits together and spreads to form fresh appendages. The new bone is so shiny before your muscle envelopes it, the capillaries and veins mesmerizing as they spread across it right before the new skin covers them up. You tilt your head and flex the new fingers once they’re finished growing.

Lifting your head, you can feel a similar sensation in your right eye socket. A tightening sort of feeling before the eye begins to reform. Your jaw clenches and you try to ignore the weird feeling, wetness spilling down your right cheek as you take in your surroundings.

You’re in a car. Settled into the passenger seat instead of the trunk, staring at the dark road ahead that will eventually lead to town. From the corner of your eye, you see Flag behind the wheel and you lower your eyes again. You’re unsure if you should let him know that you’re conscious so you quietly call out to Glasya-Labolas in your head. Goosebumps raise on your skin as your call is met with a weak grumble.

“What did you do?” The words are out before you can stop yourself, your pulse accelerating. Snapping your head in Flag’s direction, you see his grip tighten on the steering wheel. “What did you do to me? Why is he being so quiet? What did you to us?”

He waits for you look away again before he answers. “I had to do something to keep that thing from attacking me. I gave you a muscle relaxer. Had to keep him from using you again.”

Flag takes one hand off the steering wheel to reach behind your seat for something. He brings a bottle of water to the front seat, putting it in your hands, before he reaches back to grab a bottle of painkillers. “There. The pins have to stay in for a little longer.”

Lifting the painkillers, you squint a little and examine the bottle just to make sure they are what he said they are. The label says “ibuprofen” and when you open it up, they look like regular gel tabs. After taking a few, you do your best to get comfortable in the passenger seat. It’s not easy with the pins still jammed through your elbows, knees, and ankles, but at least your hands don’t hurt anymore.

The car continues down the dark road and finally slows as it reaches the last stop sign on the way to town. Across the street, the sides of the road are dotted with streetlights to illuminate the pavement. Silence settles between you as Flag turns in his seat, his eyes lowering to where your hands rest in your lap. “I didn’t do that to you,” he admits, nodding at your freshly regrown fingers.

You flinch when you see his hand lift, but just like before, he’s just lightly touching your cheek below your right eye. There’s blood dried there, in a layer of dark crust that flakes onto your lap when his fingertips brush over your cheekbone. For a moment, you’re too lost in the oddly intimate gesture before his words fully set in. “You didn’t cut off my fingers?”

“I didn’t do that and I didn’t do this,” he replies, his fingertips skimming over your cheekbone and trailing to the edge of your eyebrow. “This was just fucked up.” Flag leans closer in the front seat, looking at your new eye. He doesn’t seem phased by it, which is odd. Instead of seeing a look of disgust or annoyance, you’re confused to see him looking almost…relieved.

“What do you mean? How did I lose them if you didn’t do it?” You’re leaning back now, trying to focus. The muscle relaxer in your blood is making your thoughts feel a little fuzzy, makes it difficult for you to ignore how he’s touching the side of your face.

“Ask that thing inside you. I don’t know if demons can tell the truth, but I sure as hell didn’t take off your fingers and pluck your eye out.” Flag turns his attention back to the road and pulls away from the stop sign, continuing into town.

Slouching in the passenger seat, you close your eyes. There’s still pain humming from your joints, the pins keeping them from healing. When you focus on the pain, you’re able to ground yourself. “You know about all of the people I’ve killed. You know all of the shit I’ve done.”

“I know how much trash you cleaned up,” he argues. “You were targeting the worst people you could find. Not a single person on that list was what I’d call a good person. I was looking at the patterns and I saw that you skipped over Cranes that had kids in their house. You can sit there and call yourself a monster all you want, but the facts don’t lie.”

“Shut up. Just…shut up.” Resting your head against the window, you watch the city slowly come into view. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the side mirror, you wince and shift your gaze to your lap. You look like hell. You look half-dead, propped up in the passenger seat, and you’re genuinely surprised the cops don’t pull Flag over when you make eye contact with them as you pass a parking lot.

“I meant what I said.” The car stops at a traffic light and Flag reaches over, resting a hand on your knee. He gives it a slight squeeze, making you look at him again. “I can help you get that thing under control. What you’re going through isn’t fair.” There’s a moment of hesitation before he continues. “I know what it’s like to lose someone. I know that kind of pain. That’s why I wanna help you.”

A while later in the church, Adrian is changing into his Vigilante suit in the bathroom. Chris is already dressed and walking Oreo outside one last time before they head out. The reason why Adrian is hesitating is the fact that they’re relying on the police to show them where you are.

Apparently the cult has way more members than Adrian thought. People from the police department, the hospital, city hall, even the dollar store! One of the cops who goes to this church called the cult leader and said he saw you. They’ve got another cult member following the car you’re in, but this guy is supposed to pick up Vigilante and Peacemaker to follow them.

Adrian doesn’t want to get in a police car. He doesn’t want to work with a cop. What if it’s a crooked cop? What if they drive him and Chris out to the middle of nowhere and leave them there? What if this cop is like the nine-fingered guy from Fennel Fields, who ratted you out to the Scarecrow? Just thinking about getting into a police car makes Adrian annoyed.

He’s going to save you, obviously! He just needs to deal with it, right? You’re still alive, aren’t you? Probably? You can’t die unless the demon leaves your body, but if it did leave your body, you might be lying dead in a ditch somewhere! Even if you are dead, as long as he can find the demon and shove it back into your body, you can probably come back to life! A reverse exorcism can’t be that hard to do!

When he hears a knock on the bathroom stall, he quickly pulls on his mask and finishes getting ready. Vigilante steps out of the stall and grimaces beneath his mask when he’s face to face with a cop. This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen!

“Oh, there you are! Ready to go? Peacemaker already called shotgun, but you can ride in the backseat with the dog.” The police officer is smiling at him like they’re friends or something.

There are tears spilling down your face, mixing with the blood on your skin. It was painful enough to have the pins just sitting in place, but when Flag yanks them out, there’s a fresh wave of agony that makes your stomach heave. Before you can even snap at him for being so rough, he’s throwing your arm over his shoulders and hauling you to your feet.

You’re forced to lean against him for support, stumbling and greeted with a sharp pulse of pain in your knees and ankles with each step. The muscle relaxer keeps the demon quiet in your head, but your thoughts are drifting. Fight, escape, run, Adrian, Oreo, Fennel Fields, Corrinthleigh Crane, road trip, Scarecrow, Rick Flag, kill, kill, kill. Thoughts of murder get interrupted by thoughts about the scent of this guy’s cologne, then you quickly shift your thoughts to how Adrian smells and you wonder what deodorant scent he usually goes with because it doesn’t smell like “cool fresh”.

“Almost there. Here we go,” Flag murmurs, his mouth near your ear. “It’ll stop hurting soon.”

Groggily lifting your head, you see the red glowing sign for the emergency room with the hospital looming behind the entrance. The soft glow of the waiting room spills out through the large glass doors and you can’t fight against Flag as he half-carries you inside. Beneath the fog of the muscle relaxer, you’re thinking about your missing fingers and eye again. Wondering if what he said was true, if the demon was the one that did the damage, just to further pit you against Flag.

“Okay. Easy, easy.” He helps you into a wheelchair and crouches down in front of you, putting his hand on your knee again. His free hand rubs his face for a moment and he glances toward the registration area. “I’m gonna give you something to bite down on. It’s gonna taste bitter. Don’t swallow any of it. I don’t know if it’s toxic and I don’t know if it’ll kill you,” he explains, squeezing your knee.

You’re having trouble keeping your eyelids lifted now, struggling to fully grasp what he’s saying. When he puts his other hand up to your mouth, you don’t fight him. His thumb presses a tablet between your lips and pushes it in.

“Good girl. Just bite down on that and I’ll take care of the rest.” Flag moves around the wheelchair and grabs the handles to start pushing you. “If I can’t get her to show her face, I’m taking you with me instead,” he reminds you, moving towards the registration area. “But if I can get her to come out, you can still join me. I wanna help you. Just think about it.”

Chapter Text

Vigilante doesn’t trust cultists, on principle. They’re shady, they’re usually involved in money laundering or pyramid schemes, and he’s like 99.9% sure that the Church of Solomon is doing some kind of sketchy demon matchmaking and that can’t possibly be legal! That cult leader lady was really trying to sell Peacemaker on joining the church and getting one of those cursed rings you told him about.

He frowns under his mask, glaring at the cop from the back seat. What? They don’t think Vigilante is good enough to match with a demon? No one’s even asked him to join yet! He’s Vigilante! He’s the one that cleans up all the gang activity and drug dealing to make the city safer! It’s not like he wants to have a weird demon parasite, but it’d at least be polite for someone to offer him one!

Just as Vigilante is trying to decide which demon would be his perfect match, he hears the cop’s cellphone ringing in the front seat. Behind his visor, he glances at Peacemaker, who called shotgun before they even left the church. He’s trying to hold Oreo back while the cocker spaniel tries to bite the steering wheel.

The cop puts his phone on speaker and tosses it onto the dashboard. “Got her location?”

“I’ve got eyes on the vehicle. They parked at the hospital, but I’ve got some bad news.” Judging by the tone of the other guy’s voice, that’s another cop. “We missed it before, but the car’s got government plates on it.”

“Shit. Are you kidding?” The cop brakes at a traffic light and Peacemaker turns his head to look over at him.

“What does that mean? She got picked up by the FBI?” Vigilante leans forward, pressing his visor against the cage bars separating the backseat from the front.

There’s a pause before the person on the phone asks, “Do you seriously have me on speaker?”

“Hey! Explain yourself! Why does it matter if the car has government plates?” Peacemaker snatches the phone before the cop can make a grab for it.

Vigilante is thrown back against the seat as the car suddenly speeds across the intersection, running a red light. “Fuck! You know, just because you’re a cop, that doesn’t mean you’re above the law! Do you know what I do to scumbags that run red lights?”

Oreo yelps as the car makes a sharp turn, sending the dog slamming against the inside of the passenger door. Peacemaker quickly picks him up and holds onto him as the police cruiser makes another sharp turn and speeds down an alley. “What the fuck?! Pull over! Just let us out!”

The call goes dead and the cop is sweating in the driver’s seat. “I can’t. I’m going to drop you at the county line. We can’t interfere. If the government is involved, then we have to stay out of it. That’s just how it is.”

“That doesn’t make any sense! You’re a fucking cult! Cults are all about going against the government!” Vigilante argues, checking his weapons. Peacemaker is ahead of him.

The barrel of his gun is pushed under the cop’s chin and Peacemaker keeps the little dog cradled against his chest. “Pull over or I’ll paint the ceiling with your brains and I really don’t want Oreo to have to see that shit.”

The car slows to a stop and the cop holds his hands up. “Look, the Church of Solomon isn’t a cult! And we can’t do anything if the government is involved! We have a deal with them. They don’t bother us if we don’t cause trouble for them. If they take one of us, it’s for a good reason. If we even try to get her back, they’ll retaliate and take more of our “gifted” members! I can’t risk them going after my wife!”

“There’s nothing you can do, but that doesn’t mean we can’t smash in some skulls!” Vigilante holds up your tenderizer and grabs the door handle, but the child safety lock keeps it from opening. “Let me out! I’m not gonna just sit here while the government and the Scarecrow run weird experiments on Bunny!”

At the same time, you’re slouching in the wheelchair and watching the floor roll beneath it. You bit down on the tablet and almost immediately regretted it. Your mouth overflowed with red saliva that strongly resembled blood. It’s soaked into the front of your Fennel Fields uniform shirt and pants. Your joints are aching, stinging with the pressure of the pins still piercing your flesh and muscle.

You’re not in the emergency room anymore. The registration staff immediately had you placed in a room, with Flag joining you under the guise of being…someone to you. You were so distracted by the intensely bitter taste of the tablet that you’re not sure what he told the staff. All you know is that he let them settle you into a bed and he put you back in the wheelchair the second they were out of sight.

Now, you’re being pushed down quiet corridors that lead deeper into the hospital. Your eyes slide to the stiff hospital bracelet around your wrist, but your vision is blurry with fatigue. You’re still fighting the muscle relaxer, fight to stay conscious. It’s so difficult to keep your eyes open and you’re gripping the armrests of the wheelchair so hard that your fingertips hurt.

Your fingertips. Lifting your head, you look at your shiny new skin on the regrown fingers and you remember what Flag said in the car. He said that he didn’t cut off your fingers. He said that he didn’t take your eye out. Glasya-Labolas wouldn’t do that to you, though, would he? The demon is constantly healing you, constantly working to keep you whole, so he wouldn’t actually maim you, right?

“How’d it feel?” Flag’s voice comes from right above your ear. “When I was reading your file, I saw what you did to the guy that killed your family. You really fucked him up before you finally killed him. That must’ve felt pretty good.”

There’s something wrong with you. It’s something you’ve suspected for a while, when you wondered if the demon made it so easy for you to kill or if you always had that vicious side buried deep inside you. The fact that your red slick lips are curving into a small smile tells you everything you need to know. “That was the first time I ever got to see a skull collapse. And it was beautiful.”

“I bet it was.” The wheelchair rolls to a halt just a few feet from a corner. Flag walks around to the front and crouches in front of you, lifting a napkin to your mouth. “Here we go. Let me clean you up a little. We already got this far, so we don’t have to keep this up.”

You’re still slouching in the chair, still wracked with pain and grogginess, but you shift your eyes to look at his. Hazel. Soft hazel. His brow is furrowed while he’s wiping the dark red saliva off your chin and lips. When he pulls his hand away, you finally ask him, “Who did you lose?”

He doesn’t answer you at first, but there’s a frown settling on his lips. Flag lowers his eyes to your legs and he reaches for the pin jammed through your knee. “Don’t tense up.” It’s the only warning you get before he starts extracting the pin.

The pain is sharp, but worse is the fact that you can feel the metal length of it sliding through your muscle and flesh. It’s a struggle to keep your body relaxed and to distract yourself from the pain, you try to focus on the weirdly concerned expression on his face. Almost as if he really cares, almost as if he actually regrets sticking you full of pins.

There’s fresh blood welling up around the entry point and it gushes for a while before your body begins to heal. Flag pulls the pins out one at a time, piling them on the tiled floor. When he pulls the last one out, he rests a hand on your knee and his fingertips gently squeeze. “I lost my son,” he finally admits.

Flag swipes the pad of his thumb below your right eye, wiping away tears you didn’t even realize had formed. He pushes himself to stand and moves around to the back of the wheelchair again. “But she’s gonna fix that. If we can lure her out of wherever she’s hiding.”

“Who is she?” If you can keep him talking and distracted, you can try to check on Glasya-Labolas. The demon is healing you, which is a good sign, but he’s so quiet. You’re used to his roar echoing off the inside of your skull. You try to ask him now, in your mind, if he was the one who took out your eye.

There’s no grumbling response, but you’re suddenly aware of a churning in your stomach. A clenching, a twisting, a weight in the pit of it as if you’ve eaten recently. Your tongue subconsciously traces over your teeth, feeling that the missing ones have regrown. The tip of your tongue brushes across something that makes you gag. Something gooey, but firm, stuck between two of your molars.

Flag stops his explanation about the mystery lady that you’re supposed to lure out and leans down. “Hey. You didn’t swallow any of that stuff, did you? I said it might be toxic.”

“No, I’m fine.” Your hands rest in your lap as he pushes the wheelchair around the corner. You don’t want to tell Flag that you just found a scrap of flesh in your teeth or that you can feel the weight of your own body parts in your stomach. He knows, he probably watched the demon commit the horrific self-cannibalism to maim you.

If you go with Flag, will he really be able to help you take control? Does he really know someone who can do that? If you can completely gain control, what will life be like? So much of the past few years has been dictated by what Glasya-Labolas thought you needed; diet changes, targets, training, even where you lived and what jobs you took. You’ve had the demon’s voice in your head since the night you lost your family and trying to imagine having the power to just ignore him…

“Excuse me! This is a restricted area.” A nurse is speedwalking towards you both from down the hallway. They immediately look unsettled when they see the blood all over you and the way you’re limply slouching in the wheelchair.

“Sorry. We’re coming from the ER. They were sending us to Radiology, but while I was following their directions, I got all turned around.” Flag handles the interaction as you continue to think about the future.

If you do go with him, what is he going to expect from you? No one helps someone for free. Even if you might have some things in common. If you go with Flag, you know that he’s going to want something. Wait. Did he say that the person he’s trying to lure out can somehow fix his dead son?

As you begin to lift your gaze toward the nurse, a hand rests on the top of your hand and fingers stroke your hair. Subtly, gently, Flag redirects your gaze downward. “Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll get this all figured out and get you back to your room soon.”

It’s the muscle relaxer. It has to be the muscle relaxer fucking with your head, because your vision starts to blur. There’s a tightness in your throat and you nod once, just once. When was the last time someone spoke to you like that? Even if he’s just acting, to convince the nurse that he’s not doing something super sketchy, it still has an effect on you.

Vigilante shows you affection, just not like this. His love language involves upgrading your suit and weapons. The sweetest things he’s said to you revolved around your skills as a killer. You love him, you appreciate him the way he is, but this just feels different.

“Hey, do you know if…?” Flag is still stroking your hair as he asks if a particular nurse is working that night. He’s smiling, trying to come across as just asking if a friend happens to be working this shift, but it’s immediately obvious that something’s wrong.

The nurse’s friendly smile fades and there’s an uneasiness in their voice when they reply. “She doesn’t work here anymore. I can’t tell you where she went. All I know is that between her stalker situation and that shooting in the parking lot last week, she wanted to leave town.”

If you were just a little more medicated, you might laugh. It’s funny, isn’t it? Before you even met, you and Flag managed to both cause this supposed miracle worker to quit her job and leave town. This nurse is definitely talking about the last time Adrian shot you in the head and you can only imagine that Flag was stalking her before he got you involved.

Things are not going the way he planned. Flag doesn’t even bother to listen to what else this nurse is saying because he’s trying to plan his next move. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. None of this is how it was supposed to.

It all started to fall apart the second he underestimated the demon. He thought it’d be easy enough to just kill you a few times and bring you to the hospital once you were weakened enough that you were barely hanging on. She was going to see you and she wouldn’t be able to resist helping. She wouldn’t be able to keep hiding from him the way she has been for the past month. She kept dodging him, kept running away from him and tucking herself into some dark corner until he left.

The problem started when that demon gave him more trouble than expected. He thought he could distract it by injuring you, making it focus on healing you, but that thing was vicious. Even as it was healing gunshot wounds, it was sending your body charging forward and striking with punch after punch. He honestly doesn’t know what would’ve happened if he didn’t have holy water on hand.

Worse is the fact that he underestimated how he’d feel about you. He was supposed to just use you as bait, but after reading about the hell you went through, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t feel a connection. A stupid fucking connection that made him hold back when the demon wasn’t controlling you.

Flag looks down at you, his grip on the handle behind you tightening. His fingertips skim over your hair a few times before he grabs the other handle again. “You said Radiology is around that corner and on the left?” he asks, interrupting the nurse’s rant about workplace safety.

“Around that corner, down the hallway on the left, then turn right and go through the double doors.”

He still has you. He can take you with him for now and keep searching for her after he takes care of business with Waller. Pushing the wheelchair down the hall, he rounds the corner and pauses. Waiting for the nurse to walk off and put some distance between you and them, considering how he’s going to get you back to the car. With your demon subdued and the muscle relaxer still in your system, he could probably just wheel you out to the parking lot.

You push through the fatigue that’s fogging your mind and weakening your limbs, carefully standing up and taking a stumbling step forward away from the wheelchair. Your hand braces against the wall to steady yourself and you blink away the remnants of tears. The pain is gone, at least, but you’re still fighting off the urge to close your eyes and just slip into unconsciousness.

“How’re you feeling?” Flag keeps a hand on the wheelchair, prepared to catch you if you lose your balance.

“I can’t hear him.” Your voice is quiet, strained. You can still feel Glasya-Labolas in your skull like a constant pressure, but he’s gone silent. No grumbling, no swearing, no snarling threats in an ancient language. He’s still healing you, still sealing up your wounds, but he’s not speaking. It’s as if he’s asleep on the surface of your brain, healing you without conscious effort.

“Bunny?” A familiar voice echoes from down the hallway, making your head turn sharply. Even though you can’t see Vigilante, you know that was his voice. The sound of running footsteps joins his voice as he calls your nickname again.

Before you can take a step forward, a hand closes around your upper arm. Flag gives you a firm look and shakes his head. “I told you what was gonna happen if I couldn’t find her,” he warns. “Listen to me. I can help you. I’ve got connections. We can find somebody who can help you control that thing.”

“Bunny! Come on! Stop ignoring me! We know you’re here! Tell me where you are so I can save you!” Vigilante’s voice is getting louder.

You can hear Oreo’s nails clicking on the tiled floor as he scampers down another hallway. Finally, Glasya-Labolas speaks again and he’s giving you an order: get to the dog. No matter who you go with, no matter where you end up, you have to keep Oreo with you. The extra vessel, the familiar; your dog.

That’s something you agree with. Even though you still feel weak, you manage to yank your arm free from Flag’s grip. You wait a moment before you register which direction Oreo is running from. The second you’re sure of it, you sprint past Flag around the corner. As you run, you’re listening to Oreo bark in the distance.

Of course, Flag isn’t far behind you. Like a hound with its sights set on a rabbit, baring its teeth in preparation to close on the back of its prey’s neck. You can still hear Vigilante’s voice calling your nickname as you finally spot Oreo. The dog is coming around the far corner and lights up when he spots you.

Your heart sinks when you see him limping and the second you reach him, you’re scooping him up. He doesn’t yelp, too focused on licking your face and wagging his stumpy tail, but you know you saw him limping. A short distance behind you, Flag stops and you can still hear Vigilante calling your nickname. Now you have a choice to make.

Chapter Text

Make a choice. Make a choice! What the fuck are you going to do? Run to Vigilante, keep chasing after your ultimate goal of murdering the Scarecrow? Or do you go with Rick Flag? Get control over Glasya-Labolas, put your “curse” to good use?

There’s an ache in your jaw as you hold Oreo against your chest. The muscles feel like they’re burning, like they’re being forced to stretch and quiver beneath your flesh. The sharp click of a metal cuff closing around your wrist drags your attention back to Flag just in time to see him click a second cuff around his own wrist, connecting you to him by a short metal chain.

“Wait! I didn’t agree to anything yet! I didn’t-!” Your jaw snaps to the side and there’s a vibration through your throat before your lips move against your will.

“Finally…the familiar…” The voice emerging from your mouth is low and cold, distorted. It’s a voice you know well and you can’t stop what happens next.

The vibrations leave your throat, the pressure of the demon’s presence within your skull is suddenly gone, and Oreo begins to snarl. The dog frantically thrashes in your hold, snapping his jaws at Flag and scratching your arms with his sharp nails in his determination to attack the man. You hold on tight, knowing that the demon’s fury will make him go after Flag with no regard for Oreo’s safety.

“Don’t! Don’t do it! Just calm down! We can talk about this!” It’s insane that you’re trying to reason with a demon-possessed cocker spaniel in the back hallway of a hospital, but this isn’t even the weirdest situation you’ve been in this month.

“You’re coming with me. I’m not taking “no” for an answer. Now, get your dog under control.” Flag is keeping his distance from the dog, as much of a distance as he can now that he’s cuffed to you. “I’m not gonna make you leave that thing as long as you calm it down.”

“You need to unlock these cuffs! I’m not exaggerating here! Glasya-!” Your hold on Oreo slips as he launches himself at Flag’s face.

“Holy shit! Is that Oreo?!” Vigilante can hear the dog going absolutely insane somewhere around the far corner and he breaks into a run. The last time he saw the dog, Peacemaker was holding him and trying to explain to the ER staff that Oreo was his emotional support dog. Not that that made any sense to him! Peacemaker doesn’t need an emotional support dog when he has his best friend!

Don’t hospitals have those therapy dogs sometimes? He’s pretty sure he’s seen a video on Facebook about a therapy miniature horse, too. Vigilante grins, imagining your dog fighting a miniature horse wearing one of those silly little vests. That would be hilarious! Besides, Oreo could totally take down a mini horse! He took on a whole herd of cows by himself!

He's prepared to round the corner and see the little dog snarling at hospital staff or a therapy animal or maybe a security guard. Vigilante is not prepared to see you rolling around on the floor, handcuffed to some guy he’s never seen before, with Oreo trying to tear a chunk of flesh out of the stranger’s arm. “Bunny? Hey! Bunny, what are you doing?”

Why are you on top of that guy? Why are you using yourself as a human shield to keep Oreo from going for his neck? Who even is that guy? You said your dad’s dead, right? Is that your uncle or something? What is he doing here?

“…Adrian…”

“What the fuck?” Vigilante sees the dog lifting his face from the guy’s arm. His white muzzle is covered in blood and it’s dripping from his mouth, staining his chest and front paws. Vigilante takes a step back as the cocker spaniel steps over the man’s arm and moves toward him. “Bunny, do something!”

“Adrian!” It’s a warped, low voice barking from the dog’s mouth as he stares back at Vigilante with solid black eyes. “Adri…an! Adrian!”

It’s pretty hard to scare Vigilante. He’s taken down gangs without flinching. He helped Peacemaker and the others with the whole butterfly situation, even though that was way crazier than the stuff he’d usually do. This, though? This is new, this is actually a little bit upsetting. Not scary! It’s not like he’s going to piss his pants like he’s sure that other guy did, but hearing a demon-possessed dog say his name is making his stomach churn just a tiny bit.

From down the hallway, you lift your head and lock eyes with Vigilante through his visor. “Run!”

That’s all it takes to snap him out of his shock. Vigilante turns just as Oreo rushes at him and sprints toward another corner. He has no idea where he’s going, but he knows two things. First, he needs to lose Oreo or that thing is going to aim straight for his throat when it catches him.

Second, there’s no way in hell that he’s going to fight that thing. You would kill him if the dog got hurt. Plus, Vigilante doesn’t fight dogs. He doesn’t even fight Eagly! He just has to hide until Oreo stops being possessed, right? That should be easy, if he can just find a door in this endless stretch of hallway!

While Vigilante is running from the dog, you’re still struggling on the floor with Flag. Part of you wants to run, to try to catch Oreo and force the demon back into your body. You know he swapped to Oreo because the dog isn’t being slowed down by a muscle relaxer. Your thoughts are still fuzzy and your body feels heavy when you try to lift yourself off of Flag. The urge to let yourself pass out on the floor next to him is almost overwhelming, but you fight against it.

“You mind explaining what the hell just happened?” He presses his hand over his left forearm, where Oreo tore into his skin. There’s blood gushing out of the wound, pooling on the floor under you both.

You don’t owe Rick Flag an explanation. You know that you should seize this opportunity to knock him out, get the key to unlock the cuff on your wrist, and escape. Just let him bleed out on the floor. It’d be so easy…if he hadn’t been so gentle with you.

Clenching your aching jaw, you press your hand over his and try not to think about how warm his fingers are. “The muscle relaxer was fucking up his control,” you start, pressing your hand tighter over his and ignoring the hiss of pain that escapes him. “He needed a body that he could use.”

“You don’t seem surprised.” Flag looks up at you and grimaces when you start to pull your hand away. “It’s not the first time he’s done that?”

“He’s done it two times before.” Of course, you’re not going to explain to him that the first time was when you were having sex with Vigilante and the second time was when you inhaled fear gas. “Oh. Shit.” Realizing that you’re still straddling Flag on the floor, you push yourself off his hips and sit beside him.

The chain connecting you jingles and your eyes lower to the cuff around your wrist. “Take this off.”

“No.” Flag stands, forcing you to stand with him, and he keeps his hand pressed over the gushing bite wound on his forearm. It’s a mess of shredded flesh and blood so dark that it looks black as it runs down his skin. “I need to get this cleaned.”

“Take this off,” you repeat, tugging at the cuff sharply. “I’m not going with you. I have things that I need to take care of here.”

“That parasite isn’t looking out for your best interest. You know that, right?” Flag starts walking down the hallway in the direction Vigilante and the dog disappeared, pulling you with him. He tries every door you pass until he finds one that’s unlocked and he drags you in.

All you can do is lean against the wall nearby, still struggling against the muscle relaxer numbing your limbs and threatening to drag you into the welcoming darkness of unconsciousness. He’s looking for a first aid kit while you ponder the idea of breaking your own hand to slip your wrist out of the cuff. You’d have to knock him out first and keep him out long enough for you to break your bones. Without Glasya-Labolas, you know that self-preservation will kick in and make it even more difficult.

“He’s helping me,” you argue, just trying to keep Flag talking. “If it wasn’t for him, I would’ve died with the rest of my family. I wouldn’t be here right now if he didn’t save me.” Closing your eyes, you remember all of the times that Glasya-Labolas has rewarded you and reassured you with those little surges of affection, praise, love. For so long, the demon was your only companion.

Flag finally finds a roll of gauze and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. You take them both from him without a word and start cleaning the bite wound the best you can. He’s not looking at you, but as the gauze winds around his forearm, he mutters a “thank you”.

A sigh slips past your lips as you step back and look away from him. “You took care of me.” You pause and shift your eyes back to him in the dim little room. “You didn’t have to. You could’ve kept killing me. You could’ve just left me with broken bones and shot me in the head.”

“I couldn’t do that.” There’s a hint of bitterness in his voice as he leads you out of the room again. He watches you from the corner of his eye, checking to make sure your injuries are healed, but you seem fine. The demon must’ve made sure you were patched up before it shifted into the dog.

With a sigh, he runs a hand down his face. He needs to convince you to join him. After the shit he saw in that garage, the way that thing used your body like a puppet to fight him. The bruise on the side of his face is still throbbing. Worse than the injury he took was the way that thing started to pull you apart when Flag tried to talk it down.

“You know what that thing to said to me before he took out your eye?” He can see your head turn in his direction and there’s something there. Fear, wariness. You don’t fully trust Flag and he knows it. You’re too smart for that. “He told me stuff like “she needs me” and “now she’s not gonna trust you”. He said that right before he made you eat your own eye.”

When he says your name, it’s in a lower and gentler tone that makes your throat tighten. “Stop it,” you warn, but there’s no venom in your voice.

“That thing is a demon. It’s not helping you; it’s using you. Did he even tell you why he wants you to kill everyone in the Scarecrow’s family? Think about it. Why would a demon care that much about helping you get revenge? He’s using you like his own personal Instacart shopper so he can feed on their souls.”

Before you can say anything, pain explodes in your wrist and your arm is jerked forward as a loud crack of gunshot rings down the hallways. Blood splatters across the floor and you can feel the sharp edge of broken bone slicing into your muscle and flesh. Swearing, you try to lift your arm, but Flag moves first.

You’re shoved behind him as his free hand draws the gun on his hip. There’s no demon to help you push through the pain and you’re already starting to hyperventilate as you look at the mess of your wrist. Shattered bone, stringy red cords of muscle and torn skin, blood streaming from the wound in a constant flow that drips onto the tiled hospital floor.

“Come on!” Flag backs you towards that same little room where you just patched him up.

This is going to suck. Holy shit, this is going to suck! Gritting your teeth, you grab your hand and pull, twisting. There’s a searing pain where your flesh tears further, a sharp cracking as the bones of your wrist break even more. The sound is wet and ragged, like raw meat being mixed. The shards are cutting into your muscle and your stomach churns with nausea as the pain threatens to send you to your knees, but you’re not going to waste the opportunity that Vigilante gave you.

Flag may not have seen the shooter, but you know the distinct sound of Vigilante’s handgun. Pushing past self-preservation, you put all of your strength into pulling at your hand and twisting. A scream tears its way from your throat as it finally comes off and your wrist slips out of the metal cuff.

Dropping your severed hand onto the tiled floor with a meaty, wet thump, you don’t waste another second. Now that you’re free, you need to get some distance between you and Flag. Blood loss, fatigue, and pain are all working against you. Your breathing is ragged, your limbs heavy, as you sprint towards the corner.

Somewhere at the back of your mind, you wonder where Oreo is. You need to find Glasya-Labolas before you bleed to death. There’s a trail of red on the floor behind you while you run and your stomach churns again. This is a level of agony that you’re not used. The demon can usually dull everything so it’s tolerable.

It took him longer than he thought to lose Oreo, but Vigilante is determined to save you. Even though he’s still not sure what he’s saving you from exactly. Wasn’t the government supposedly involved? That’s what that cult cop said. Wait! What about the Scarecrow?

He’s running down another hallway, this time determined to reconnect with you and get you out of the hospital. Vigilante laughs a little when he thinks about it. Usually when someone gets shot, they want to go to the hospital! His grin spreads as he turns a corner and sees you.

“Bunny!” Vigilante jogs over and wraps his hand around your forearm, avoiding the mess where your left wrist used to be. You look pretty fucked up, but if he tries to carry you, it’ll slow you both down. The best he can do is lead you towards the main entrance by your arm.

“I need to find Oreo.” You’re looking back over your shoulder and you’re stumbling, definitely feeling the effect of losing so much blood.

“Why? It’s not like he can’t find you later! Doesn’t he have like a demon tracker ability or something? He’ll be fine! We have to get you out of here before the FBI takes you in!” He leads you through the lobby, past a very startled security guard, and out into the parking lot. “By the way, that was super un-girlfriendlike to get on top of that guy in the hallway! Who even was that guy?”

You don’t answer him, because you finally succumb to fatigue and blood loss. Your knees fold beneath you and Vigilante has to move fast to keep you from falling onto the pavement. The welcoming darkness of sleep wraps around your mind, making your whole body go limp as he opens the door to a police cruiser.