The Skin That Crawls From You [A Jonathan Crane Fan-fiction]

Back To Black.

The back door's handles rattle after the twisted driver hops out.
"Let's see what we've got,"
His muffled voice says to no one in particular.

When the doors swing open; the light of dawn floods the van in a cast of orange haze. In the midst of the momentary beauty, my eyes focus on him.

He's young, dare I say handsome, if not for those two deep gashes tilted upward at each corner of his mouth. His eyes are shadowed by a darkness that seems to go much deeper than just 'dark circles'; rather it's from the very set of his gaze that sends shadows down his sockets. He wears an Arkham uniform as i do- but there's something so much darker in the way he holds himself. There's something so much darker in his twisted grimace.

He tilts his head for a moment and cracks a smile, a sick and dangerous smile.

"What do we have here?"

" looks like somebody took Dr. Crane's crown."
He sings in a taunting voice.

I swallow the sour lump in my throat and without thinking, I press a hand to Jonathon protectively, as if to keep him behind me. We're cornered. I have to keep him safe if I want answers. I have to keep us both alive. I begin to feel a warmth rushing through my fingertips. With every moment of contact, the heat increases within my palm and radiates into my fingers. I feel a buzzing flow drain from my wrists and through my hands.

I ignore the man in front of me for a moment and glance down at Crane. The color begins to return to his dying face, and his eyes begin to shutter beneath their lids. Between my fingers, a dark wine colored glow builds quickly.

Not only can I take energy; but I can give it? I pull my hand away and stare down at the doctor. He coughs slightly and begins to shift- his eyes still closed.

When I look up again, the scar faced man is smirking.

"Oh a meta,"
He clicks his tongue with an undertone of rebuke. The hair on the back of my neck stands with his voice, with his words.

A meta-human? Like those I had heard about on the news? I suppose my new found ability could only be attributed to that. To being meta-human. I can't help but cringe.

The man lunges into the van like a feral animal, and I slam backward into the wall, terrified.

"Oh oh!"
He says.

"Dont- don't go,"
His eyes shift between Dr. Crane and I.
They then lock onto me, staring into me through Crane's thick mask, the man's brown eyes are manic in the morning light. I have to look away.

"Let's just- let's make an arrangement!"
He says, leaning back as he kneels in the low van. He pushes his hands out as if he were reasoning with me, but his palms are caked with dried blood. The maroon smear travels down his bare forearms in the form of dried-out droplets.

He realizes where my gaze lies and looks down at his palms.

"Oh this, well nothing a little soap and water can't fix, y'a see-"
He mumbles, licking his lips.

I have to do it again, I have to lay a hand on this madman, I have to save Jon, I have to save myself I have too-

"Let's stop with this chit-chat!"

"And get to the point!"
He growls, before lunging at me again and wrapping his hands around my throat. The pure force slams me against the wall. I struggle to break free, grasping at his knuckles and begging my new found 'meta abilities' to save me. But before I can even fight it, he's shoved me into the ground, his knees holding down my shaking arms.

"'Night night ScareCrow killer!"
He hisses, I gasp for air beneath his suffocating grip as the corners of my eyes become fuzzy. Until the twisted scarred face that stares down at me goes out of focus. Until it all fades back to black.