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emotionalcadaver · 5 months

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Part 16: Why Do We Fall

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: Batman's return to Gotham forces Jonathan and Vanessa to reassess their current living situation.

Word Count: 1,698

Notes: Takes place during The Dark Knight Rises. Warnings for depictions of violence.

Masterlists: Main • Series

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“No lawyer? No witnesses? What sort of due process is this?” Jim Gordon asked them. The court was uncharacteristically quiet, save for his voice. Vanessa shifted, ever so slightly, in Jonathan’s lap, head cocking as she looked down on him and his group of followers.

“Your guilt has been determined. This is merely a sentencing hearing,” Jonathan said. “Now, what will it be? Death…or exile?”

“Crane, if you think we’re going out onto that ice willingly…you have another thing coming.”

Jonathan nodded, and shrugged. “Death, then.”

“Looks that way!”

Their commissioner had balls, she’d give him that.

“Very well. Death…” Jonathan brought his gavel down with a decisive clang. And then, in the bitchiest voice she had ever heard her husband use, he added, “by exile.”

The crowd erupted into cheers. Vanessa laughed, pressing her smile into Jonathan’s neck as she watched Gordon and his people be led away by the mercenaries.

All except for one. At the corner of the group, she spotted Miranda Tate, Wayne Enterprises’ new CEO, being led by the arm by Barsad towards Bane, who was standing on the edge of the crowd. He rested a hand on her shoulder, almost affectionately, and began to guide her away.

Her head tilted curiously. Bane had said that the courtroom was their turf. They got to make the rules. Decide what happened to each and every person brought before them. And yet here he was, trying to challenge their authority.

They adjourned for the day, waiting until the spectators had been ushered out by their goons before descending from the safety of their throne to head into the back room they’d fashioned as their bedroom.

“Bane took Miranda Tate with him, even though she was captured with Gordon’s people,” she observed.

“I noticed that too,” Jonathan was fumbling with the microwave they had in the corner, reheating a few servings of soup for them for dinner. “Maybe he took a shine to her.”

“Their contact did seem rather affectionate.”

He passed her a bowl of soup and a spoon, grabbing his own before joining her.

“It’s probably for the best not to antagonize Bane.”

She winced at the mere thought of it. The man looked like he could snap both of them in half like a toothpick with just one hand. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“It’ll be good to finally be rid of Gordon.”

“I’m surprised it took them so long to find him,” she said around a mouthful of soup. “I know it’s a big city, but Bane’s men seem…experienced in what they do.”

“Gordon’s got a lot of allies.”

“Mm. Well, it’s done now,” she shifted to rest her head on Jonathan’s shoulder, eyes darting lazily towards the window. She stiffened. “Oh, shit.”

“What?” he asked, suddenly on high alert. She didn’t answer him, instead setting her bowl down and scrambling to her feet, staggering towards the window.

Oh, no. Oh, come on. They were having so much fun.

Behind her, she heard Jonathan getting to his feet, following to stand behind her and stare out the window.

To where a burning bat symbol was emblazoned on the tower of one of the bridges.

∗ ∗ ∗

“You have the notebooks?”

Jonathan patted a pocket in his backpack. “All here. You got the remaining seeds for the flowers?”

“Yes,” she said, double checking inside the innermost pocket of her own pack that the bag of precious seeds was still there.

Jonathan glanced around the bedroom. “I already double checked the lab.”

She nodded. They’d taken care of all the remaining test subjects too. He looked back at her.

“Is there anything we’re missing?”

“Nothing that I’ve noticed,” she did her own quick sweep of the bedroom, but spotted nothing that couldn’t be easily replaced.

“Okay,” Jonathan hoisted his backpack up over his shoulder, his mask clutched in his hand. He held the other out to her. “Let’s go.”

Pulling her pack on to rest comfortably between her shoulder blades, she pulled up her half face respirator, fitting it snugly over her nose and mouth. Just in case. Grabbing tightly onto Jonathan’s hand, she let him tug her along down the hall, towards the main room and the exit of the courthouse.

They didn’t have an entirely concrete plan as to where they would go yet. Right now they just needed to get away. Wait for the dust to settle, then maybe root out a safehouse they could use.

All they really had to do was avoid the Bat, and they should be fine. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too hard; he was likely to have his hands very full with Bane.

There had been a slew of activity since the Bat’s symbol had appeared. Bane’s men were all being called away from the courthouse to City Hall, where a batch of the city’s cops who the Bat–presumably–had freed were marching.

One thing was for sure, they weren’t sticking around to get shot or pummeled by either side, thank you very much. Jonathan pulled his mask on as they rushed towards the exit. Maybe once they were outside they could find a car or something to steal.

“Going somewhere?”

Bane was leaning against the wall that he so often was hovering by while he watched them take their court cases.

Vanessa froze, taking a step back. “We’re not sticking around to be smacked around by the Bat once he shows up.”

“That won’t be an issue.”

“You don’t know him,” Jonathan huffed.

“Your presence is still required.”

“Court’s been canceled for the day, I’m afraid.”

A growling sound came from Bane’s modulator. “Your toxin will be of the utmost value in the fight against the police.”

Jonathan hesitated, for the briefest of moments. “No. No, I don’t think that it will.”

Bane took a threatening step forward. They took one back. Around them, mercenaries had filed silently into the hall. Jonathan squeezed her hand.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” he said to Bane. “But we have to look out for ourselves, first. Surely you understand,” the detonator in his hand clicked, and then the toxin bombs around them exploded. Almost instantaneously, a thick wave of gas rose to fill the entire courtroom. So thick it was difficult to see through.

By the time that the mercenaries started screaming, they had dodged Bane as he lunged for them and raced out the door, down the street and around the corner.

∗ ∗ ∗

They managed to dodge the worst of the fighting, and scramble their way up a building using a fire escape, settling on a rooftop far enough from the battle that they didn’t need to worry about getting struck with stray bullets or explosions. Sitting down with their backs to the wall, looking out over the city, they resigned themselves to just wait until it all died down.

It was considerably safer up there on the rooftops than it was down on the streets, at least.

Jonathan had his arm around her, head leaned against hers, fingers tracing nonsensical patterns into her shoulder. She was just barely beginning to doze, thinking about how it actually wasn’t all too bad up there and maybe she could take a quick nap and by the time she woke up it would all be over, when another thought occurred to her.

“Jonathan?”

“Mhm?”

“You don’t think that bomb Bane was threatening the city with will go off, do you?”

“Hm…” he frowned. “It’s possible. If Bane gets pissed enough…he seems like the kind of guy who would be happy to take us all down with him if given the opportunity.”

She frowned, chewing on her bottom lip worriedly. Jonathan gave her a squeeze.

“If it does go off, we probably will be incinerated before we even know what happened.”

“Oh, that makes me feel better,” she muttered dryly. Jonathan chuckled, kissing her forehead.

“Bats won’t let that happen.”

“Huh. Something he’s actually good for,” she curled in closer to him. “I love you,” she wanted to make sure she told him that, just in case this actually was it.

Jonathan shrugged. “You’re okay, I guess.”

She made an indignant sound and he laughed as she lightly shoved him, pulling her into his arms until she was half spread out in his lap. He kissed her.

“I love you too.”

Giggling, she closed her eyes.

BOOM!

Her face creased at the sound, scrunching closer to Jonathan.

“Oh my god,” he said, sounding very exasperated.

“What?” she opened her eyes, following his gaze across the city to where the Bat’s…aircraft? Plane? Whatever it was, it was flying through the city at a furious speed, the spherical bomb that Bane had been threatening the city with attached to a cable and being dragged behind it.

“Is he…is he fucking towing a neutron bomb?” it wasn’t as question so much as just the most absurd statement she’d ever had to utter in her entire life. They both winced when the bomb, dangling precariously, almost smacked into the side of a building on a sharp turn, before the aircraft was swooping out over the bay, barreling towards the open water. Soon it was but barely a speck of black against the horizon.

There was a sudden, distant boom, and then a blinding flash of light. She sucked in a harsh breath at the fireball in the distance, cringing back on instinct. Jonathan held her tighter.

“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s far enough away from us.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, just staring at the pillar of fire rising in the sky. “Do you think he’s dead?”

“The Bat? Maybe,” he huffed. “But I’ve learned not to get my hopes up when it comes to that.”

She snorted. It was true. If anyone could survive an explosion like that, it was Batman. He was like a goddamn cockroach.

Jonathan hummed, kissing her forehead. “You know what I want to do?”

“Go knab some test subjects off the street while everything is still in chaos and no one will notice?”

“Actually, I was thinking of getting pizza, but I like your idea better.”

Laughing, she leaned further back against him, and closed her eyes.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series

#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x oc #the dark knight trilogy #my ocs #my fanfiction #vanessa sullivan #vanessa sullivan x jonathan crane #why do we fall #the shadow game

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books-to-add-to-your-tbr · 6 months

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Title: The Shadow Game

Author: Amanda Foody

Series or standalone: series

Publication year: 2018

Genres: fiction, fantasy, romance, LGBT+, mystery

Blurb: Enne Salta was raised as a proper young lady, and no lady would willingly visit New Reynes, the so-called City of Sin...but when her mother goes missing, Enne must leave her finishing school and her reputation behind to follow her mother's trail to the city where no one survives uncorrupted. Frightened and alone, Enne has only one lead: the name Levi Glaisyer. Unfortunately, Levi is not the gentleman she expected; he's a street lord and a conman. Levi is also only one payment away from cleaning up a rapidly-unravelling investment scam, so he doesn't have time to investigate a woman leading a dangerous double life. Enne's offer of compensation, however, could be the solution to all his problems. Their search for clues leads them through glamorous casinos, illicit cabarets, and into the clutches of a ruthless mafia donna. As Enne unearths an impossible secret about her past, Levi's enemies catch up to them, ensnaring him in a vicious execution game where the players always lose. To save him, Enne will need to surrender herself to the city...and she'll need to play.

#the shadow game #ace of shades #king of fools #queen of volts #amanda foody #series #2018 #fiction #fantasy #romance #lgbt #mystery

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a-blade-disguised-as-a-girl · 2 years

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Good morning to finishing school students who become streetlords, streetlords who fall from grace, self-destructive ring fighters, aspiring journalists with compassion fatigue, drug heiresses with a penchant for arson, mentally ill poachers, murderous romance novel fans, explosion enthusiasts, nightclub owners who need a vacation, thrill-seeking prima ballerinas, overprotective prima ballerinas, whiteboots forcibly adopted by gangs, human lie detectors, vultures who find the truth, and girls who commit crimes in a hideout with thirteen cats <3

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rhysknees · 1 year

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Everytime Harvey goes back to Bryce

#yeah does anyone know this series or is it just me #Harvey gabbiano #enne scordata #levi glaisyer #the shadow game #the queen of volts #ace of shades #amanda foody #books #ya books #reading #young adult #ya fantasy #meme #fantasy #booklr #tumblr #Bryce belfour

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nikkilovesbooks · 2 years

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cactus-cactus-cactus · 8 months

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#lol #books #the diviners #the shadow game #secrets of the immortal nicholas flamel

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spiderziege · 1 year

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oc doodling. who are these people

#dont ask me about their story there is none #/j youre always welcome to ask about them but there genuinely is not much of a story. they just vibe. and live in a haunted city #finally drew all their dogs tho ive been meaning to do that for. years. but dogs are so hard to draw #my art #oc art #the shadow game

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sophia-torrenismyqueen · 2 years

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Jonas Maccabee WIP

So this was supposed to be just a quick one shot but I just had too much i wanted to write about and so it turned into a full on story. This is chapter 1, i guess. Raymond was dead. It has taken hours for the sting of Jonas’s breaking oath to fade, even now there was a lasting tingle of years of loyalty and hard work towards Raymond and the Scarhands coming to an abrupt stop. The slight itch of his wrist marked the end of an era, the end of a mentor, the end of a friend.

It was so quick. Raymond didn't deserve such a meaningless death, just another victim, another statistic proving the necessity of fire escapes. He deserved to be executed at Liberty Square, hanged in front of a jeering crowd.

His last moments should be spent staring at the snarling faces of the people he once served, the people who once served him. Just like every other influential gang lord. Raymond deserved to see the impact he had made and the lives he had changed, he could finally see how many people took time out of their lives to see him.

Even if they were coming out of anger, they were still coming.

Jonas deserved to be there too. Hidden in the crowd, holding Raymond's gaze just long enough to cross his heart one last time and show respect to his Lord at the very end.

If this was a just world Jonas would go back to Scarhand base and be happily initiated into his rightful place as Lord of the Scarhands with Raymond’s blessing. He would have achieved the one thing he had been working towards his entire life. But this was not a just world.

Raymond died trapped in a burning building, his gang hearing Raymond’s vulnerable last screams, the one thing they should never hear. They writhed in pain on the ground the moment he took his last breaths, then collapsed in a line to recover from losing their leader, their lifeline.

Jonas woke up last, he was shook awake by a burly shopkeeper ensuring Jonas had not died. After shakily climbing to his feet and balancing on a concrete wall, his eyes finally focused and Jonas realized his first impression had been wrong. He was not the last person to wake up.

St. Morse branded suit ripped and singed, the skin underneath bruised and bloody. Thick curled hair tipped with orb-maker bronze was matted and slick from blood dripping down the scalp. Soft tears dried on hard chocolate colored cheeks. Levi Glaisyer sat hunched against a brick wall, breathing shallowly and occasionally wincing in response to whatever was happening in his unconscious mind.

It was now that Jonas remembered what else happened at Raymond’s fiery funeral. Pup had pushed past the crowd of Scarhands gathered around the burning building, joining the confused yet frightened crowd until he finally realized who was inside the crumbling property.

Jonas was just a few people away from Pup when an echoing cry of anguish rang from the building, notifying the boy of exactly who the crowd would soon be mourning.

Jonas watched how his eyes widened just slightly, how his lips parted a millimeter farther apart. Pup’s poker face was too practiced to notice much else. As quick as lightning he pushed and prodded his way to the front of the crowd, eyes only focused on the high window the scream drifted from. He sprinted to the door, ignoring the pleads of well-meaning Scarhands not wanting to lose another person to this fire.

Pup took a step back and rammed into the solid oak door. He promptly stumbled back, the door having barely shaked. Then again, thump. The door shook a bit more. Thump. Thump. A low wimper came from Pup as he hit the door once again. He was going to be sore tomorrow. Thump. Thump. Thump. Finally the door fell off its hinges and Pup barged inside, covering his mouth with a tattered sleeve and letting out a deep cough.

The crowd watched with a variety of emotions, awe, disappointment, fear, but every one was hoping that Raymond would be saved. It was a shame that hope would be wasted.

It was a surprise for many Scarhands when Sedric Torren’s muscular cronies ran after Pup into the steadily growing flames, but not for Jonas. He had seen them lurking outside of the building when it caught fire. He had felt rage as hot as the blaze when they laughed to each other at Raymond’s first gut-wrenching scream. But Jonas just couldn’t reason why Sedric Torren would want to kill Raymond.

The Scrap Market was where most of his drugs, specifically Lullaby, were bought. Jonas had no doubt he would find out why though. After all, he didn’t become Scarhand’s second for not knowing these things. Well, apparently Jonas wasn’t Second anymore. He should be happy, but a promotion seemed minuscule compared to the loss of the renowned Eight-fingers.

Skidmark was the first to fall, he was one of the earliest Scarhands. Despite this and the rumors he and Raymond were friends-with-benefits, Skid had refused the position of Second or even Third to the Scarhands, instead recommending Jonas for the promotion. It hurt to see him clutch his wrist and fall to the ground, the burly man whimpering pleads for Raymond before blacking out entirely.

Just a second after Skidmark fell Pup’s limp body was being pried out of the burning building, Torren’s men pulling him by the armpits. They paid no attention to the trail of blood being left behind by a fresh wound on Pup’s head, one that they must have caused.

The crowd sagged, all hope of Raymond’s survival deflating in a collective wail. Only then did Jonas finally start to feel the tingle of his oath to Raymond breaking. It grew steadily into a sharp pain in his left arm, then a consuming fire of his entire body, finally Jonas felt nothing at all.

His last thought was of Raymond. Eight-fingers. Scarlord. Oily black hair and sleazy gold teeth, but he was so much more. Jonas met him at nineteen years old, in the Deadfish Getaway, of all places. Raised by the New Reynes streets and a sickly single mother constantly making her way in and out of the Hospital, Jonas Macabee had barely scraped together a high school diploma through the depressing North Side public school system. This was a great accomplishment considering his countless absences and suspensions throughout the years, and yet Jonas couldn’t find it in himself to be happy.

His mother was still recovering from another debilitating flu, most likely flirting with every doctor and nurse within a three mile radius at this very moment.

Due to his introverted and lone-wolf nature Jonas was left lonely and lost in a cheap cigarette-scented bar, the steady drip of what may or may not be water through the shabby tin roof being the only thing to keep him company. Jonas had lived his life one second at a time up until this point, living hard and fast on the edge. Only now did he realize he had no plan for the future, no savings to lean back on, nobody waiting for him at home.

And so Jonas took another sip of his cocktail, an ugly pea green thing that tasted of gasoline and lip balm, distracting himself from the fact his future was just as bleak as everyone else drinking their troubles away in this god-forsaken bar.

Just then a tall man sat across to Jonas, disregarding the many open seats not directly facing a stranger. He was pale and starved looking, long black hair wrapped in tangles behind him. With a face so rough and scarred, Jonas struggled to even realize his odd expression was excitement. While he was pulling a tattered leather drawstring bag to the table Jonas noticed that his left pointer and index finger had been sawed down to nubs, the skin of his pointer loosely hanging, Jonas watched it flap with a sort of morbid curiosity, still wondering why this strange man had taken an interest in Jonas’s unassuming figure.

“Hey there, you look down on your luck.”

The man said, finally settling as he stared Jonas down; an excited glimmer in his eye.

“I bet you're young, lost, tired, and if you're in this sort of place, not particularly law-abiding.”

Jonas didn't know if he should be offended by the remark or impressed at how accurate it was, so he settled on a sarcastic stare and eye roll to express himself.

“Not a talker then, that’s alright. What if I told you that there was a way to start a profitable and successful business for, let’s say, some more illicit property. With plenty of like-minded people, of course. A sort of ’Black Market’ if you will. Completely hypothetically, of course.”

He paused suddenly, dark eyes gouging out a reaction in Jonas’s. Though he really had no qualms about the idea, having occasionally dabbled in selling such things as Mistress or Lullaby himself, Jonas was well aware that the woman sitting a booth behind them was eavesdropping on the Man’s proposal.

If she was a whiteboot in disguise or a snitch Jonas didn’t want her thinking he was involved in something that could get him stuck in jail just hours after graduation. Oh how his teachers would laugh if they found out the odd Maccabee boy was arrested the moment he had left school.

Swirling the half-drunk cocktail in his fingers, small ice cubes clinking at every moment, Jonas hummed and replied. “I don’t typically get mixed up with that sort of thing.”

The Man’s mangled hand jerked out and abruptly grabbed Jonas’s wrist. The drink slammed on the table, ice stilling while his other hand shook its pointer finger in front of Jonas slowly.

“No, no, no, don’t lie to me…” He leaned forwards, pale lips almost touching Jonas’s ear. The Man’s warm breath brought his heart rate to a pounding high, the closeness unnatural, his ominous words unnerving Jonas.

“You know, I can tell when you're lying.” He whispered.

“It’s my talent. My mother‘s side. Amy Kitamura, making me Raymond Kitamura. Like she used to say, every time you lie, I can hear it. I can see it.

I can feel it.”

“So I’d advise you to say the right thing. I really don’t like it when people lie to me.”

The man slowly pulled away, his eyes never left Jonas, who had been still as a stature throughout the eerie warning.

“Now, I can tell you know your way around a bit of forgery, I saw you walk in and pull out your ID. It said ‘23’ but you can’t be a day over 19.”

The man seemed to recover from Jonas’s earlier lie. He was now smiling knowingly, as if he and Jonas shared some secret, which he supposed they did.

“Did you do it yourself? It’s a smooth cut, clean, impossible to see with the untrained eyes…” His smile widened more, stretching across his entire face, almost inhumanly.

“I think you would make a great addition to our market. Meet us tomorrow.”

He pulled out a small piece of paper from his sack, it had an address and time written in sloppy childish handwriting on the back.

While Jonas was investigating the Man had slipped out of the bar, leaving nothing but the mysterious paper and an air of promise behind.

734 Guillory Street. 5:30 am. No whiteboots.

After a quick glance around the bar, Jonas stuffed the note into his jeans, chugged down the rest of his unpleasant drink, and stumbled through the creaky door after the Man. He was climbing into a large battered truck when Jonas found him. By the time he had in turn noticed Jonas, the Man was already driving away, lending nothing but a wink through the car window to the young man’s wandering glance.

734 Guillory Street. 5:30 am.

734 Guillory Street.

5:30 am.

Maybe it was a bad idea to meet with mysterious and greasy men speaking of black markets get-together at five in the morning, hours before Jonas normally woke up, and yet there wasn’t much of a choice.

Go back to an empty apartment, no plan for the future, nobody to comfort him, no reason to continue living an empty life devoid of emotion and importance, or take a risk. Trust an obvious criminal with questionable motives and a hazardous idea, get himself into more trouble than he’s ever been in, and break the countless rules of lying-low and keeping out of attention that’s been pummeled into him from childhood?

There was really only one option.

Tomorrow at 5:30 am, on 734 Guillory street, Jonas Macabee would be there.

#Ace of shades #fanfiction #Jonas Maccabee #Raymond Kitamura #The Shadow Game #Levi Glaisyer #God I love worldbuilding #Flashbacks

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guillory-street-gossip · 2 months

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Sorry guys I'm thinking abt the guild again. Like if Bryce didn't pit harvey and rebecca against each other from literally day one maybe these stupid fucking business partners wouldn't have contracted terminal infighting disease and perhaps the three of them would have been in posession of the north side like at LEAST 2 years ago. But no we couln't have that because they all have the pettiness of a high school drama club and also the drama department is literally burning down and everything's on fire oh god oh god.

#the shadow game #shadow game #king of fools #queen of volts #guildposting

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petrareads · 2 months

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#i apologize #if I stole someone’s idea #but always fun to do it again 😎#petrareads #petraposts #books #booklr #ya novels #polls #bookish #hunger games #throne of glass #shadow hunters #carry on #the mortal instruments #the infernal devices

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emotionalcadaver · 5 months

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Part 15: Watch the World Burn

Fandom: The Dark Knight Trilogy

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x OC

Summary: One by one, they had been dragged before them. And then delivered to the gates of hell.

Word Count: 2,083

Notes: Takes place during The Dark Knight Rises. Warnings for depictions of blood and violence.

Masterlists: Main • Series

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The courtroom was in chaos.

A crowd had gathered, armed and angry, jeering cruelly in Noah’s face as he was dragged by the guards to the golden chair that had been set up in the middle of the room. His hands trembled. No one would tell him what had happened to his wife, or his children that had been ripped away from him in the chaos over the past couple of weeks. The chair was growing closer now. He had heard rumors about what became of the men before him who had been taken up to the courtroom. All of them sent to the furthest depths of hell. He squeezed his eyes shut, breaths coming in panicked puffs.

They were not gentle as they pushed him into the chair and then stepped away. The cheers of the crowd thundered in the room. Then there was the quick and sudden clang of a gavel being struck, and the room fell silent almost instantly. Noah’s eyes glanced upwards, trailing over what he could only describe as a desk mountain: a mass of books, papers, and what looked to be the remains of the benches and seating that had been previously set up in the courtroom. It both created a barrier from the feral crowd, and allowed the spindly man and dark eyed woman perched atop it to look down on the poor souls dragged before them.

“Mr. Noah Spearing,” Jonathan Crane spoke from his throne. Curled in his lap like a snake, an arm slung casually around her husband’s neck, was Vanessa Sullivan. Her hair was tied up in its usual bun, but her gas mask and goggles were off so that Noah could see her pale face. He looked away from her quickly. It was known that Crane did not take too kindly to people eyeing up his wife. Crane continued, voice loud in the new found quietness of the courtroom. Even from so far away, Noah could feel those pale blue eyes boring into his soul, peering into his brain. “You are the senior vice president of Daggett Industries. And have spent your life profiting from those less fortunate than you.” Crane lifted the papers he was looking over.

“Please,” Noah croaked, “if I could just have a moment to speak with Bane–”

“Your guilt has already been determined,” Crane leaned forward. Sullivan’s eyes shone with amusement as they looked down on him. “And we are the ones in authority here, Mr. Spearing. Not Bane. This is merely a sentencing hearing.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Noah saw one of the guards who had escorted him to the chair shift, hands flexing around his gun. He was looking up at Crane with no small amount of distaste. Perhaps he would be saved after all. He kept his eyes trained on Crane, breath held as he began to clutch onto a small sliver of hope.

But he had been so focused on Crane, he had almost forgotten about Sullivan.

The poor guard barely even managed to raise his gun halfway to take aim at the psychiatrist before there was a crack of gunfire and his chest exploded, blood spewing everywhere and some of it splattering onto Noah’s face. The guard’s body went down like a bag of rocks, hitting the wood floor with a wet thud. Sullivan had barely even moved from her position in Crane’s lap. She was holding a gun in the hand not slung around Crane’s shoulders, still aimed at where the guard had been standing a moment ago. She was too far away to make out exactly what type of weapon it was, but considering the way the guard had been ripped apart by her shot, he wouldn’t be surprised if it was some sort of shotgun. Crane pursed his lips as he looked at the man’s body, like a disappointed parent who had stumbled across their child doing something distasteful.

“Donahue, would you take care of that, please?” he said softly after a moment when no one moved. Sullivan’s eyes swooped across the courtroom, a silent challenge in her face. There was a quiet fury in her dark eyes, the promise of pain and death to any that even thought of attacking Crane. Two men swooped in to collect the guard’s body from the floor and dragged it outside, leaving a red trail of blood across the floor. Crane sucked in a deep, incredibly exasperated breath. “Perhaps I should take this moment to remind you all, there are fear toxin bombs planted all over this courthouse that will be detonated should anything happen to Dr. Sullivan or myself.” He allowed a moment of silence for the threat to digest amongst the crowd. “Now, Mr. Spearing. I offer you a choice: exile, or death.”

There was a loud, thunderous cheer at the word death, and Noah felt his last glimmer of hope slip away. No one was coming to save him. He was left at the mercy of Crane and Sullivan’s cold, merciless eyes. The shouts of the crowd began to grow in volume and Crane brought the gavel down with a booming clang and a shout of “Order!” The crowd grew quiet again almost immediately at the Master of Fear’s command. Noah began to tremble.

“Exile,” he could barely get out the word. Crane’s lips twitched upwards, his eyes flickered over to his wife who seemed to have settled from the cold rage that had been awakened at someone attempting to attack Crane. Her lazy smirk from when Noah had first entered the courtroom was back in place. Crane slipped an arm around her and pressed his cheek to the side of her head.

“What do you think, my darling? Shall we give him what he wants?” Crane spoke lowly, eyes dancing cruelly as he looked down at Noah. Sullivan’s smirk grew into a full, twisted smile, leaning back into Crane’s embrace with her head tilted.

“Hmm. Oh, I suppose so. He does look so pathetic,” Sullivan’s voice was low, almost a husky drawl, and had it not been so terrifying it could have almost been seductive. Crane brought the gavel down with another loud clang.

“Exile!”

Immediately he was being lifted up and dragged away towards the exit. Behind him, he could hear the roar of the crowd’s cheers. Sullivan was laughing, that low, terrifying voice calling after him, “Do enjoy the ice skating, Mr. Spearing!”

∗ ∗ ∗

The courthouse became their kingdom, seated atop their throne each and every day while the men and women Bane’s people rounded up were dragged before them. Vanessa recognized some of them. Politicians or rich idiots who had been plastered all over the television and magazines before Bane arrived and stripped them of their power. She did not weep for any of them, as they were sent to their doom.

The ones that they did like, or more accurately that piqued their interest, they had taken to the back room. They’d sent a few of the men Bane had left in their command to the ruins of Arkham, and had them bring back supplies for their experiments: a metal chair with braces to hold test subjects down, needles, surgical and laboratory equipment. Any and everything that they could need to begin anew their research.

And with the Bat nowhere in sight, it felt like old times again. But even better.

Bane had even supplied them with a helping of seeds, which they planted in huge pots that they kept in the lab. Soon they had enough blue flowers sprouting up from the soil to make a dozen bouquets, had they wanted to. The moment the flowers began to open, Jonathan set near frantically to work, crushing them to create more of the precious toxin they’d been separated from for so long.

The threat about the toxin bombs was true. All it would take was the flick of a switch on the detonator Jonathan carried, and the courthouse would be flooded with the toxin in seconds.

Curled against Jonathan’s chest like a cat, Vanessa hummed, letting her eyes flutter shut in response to the feeling of his long, pale fingers stroking through her hair. They still had an hour or so before they needed to be up for their next round of court cases.

Words couldn’t begin to describe how good it felt to actually, really sleep in the same bed as him again. She hadn’t even realized just how much she missed the little moments of domesticity with him.

It only made her hate the Bat more. If it weren’t for him, they never would have been locked away.

Hopefully it was true what people said about Bane actually killing him.

“Jonathan?” she asked softly.

“Hm?” his chest buzzed pleasantly with his mumbled acknowledgement, stirring just the slightest bit against her as he adjusted himself.

“Let’s make sure that we never get stuck in Blackgate again.”

“Mm…” he hummed again, clearly still half asleep. “I think I could be persuaded of that,” he mumbled dryly. Vanessa snickered.

“That so?”

“Well, I don’t know…maybe you should try and convince me,” his eyes were still closed, but a small smile was playing on his lips. Vanessa narrowed her eyes, rolling from where she was laying on his chest to crouch over him, touching one sharp cheekbone and brushing her nose against his.

“Hm…” she cocked her head, adjusting herself so she was fully straddling him. Jonathan’s eyes cracked open a sliver, blinking at her fondly and lazily. “Let’s see what we can do about that, then,” she whispered huskily, taking great pride in the way his pupils dilated in response to her words, kissing him deeply.

∗ ∗ ∗

“This is a mistake! Where is Bane?” Philip Stryver cried out the moment he was shoved into the golden chair set up in the middle of the courtroom, positioned right in front of Jonathan and Vanessa’s throne, so they could look down on their victims. See the unfiltered expressions of terror that crossed their faces.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at the tone he could detect still in Stryver’s voice. Entitled until the very end, hm?

But this one did not interest him all that much. He was just another skeezy, rich, overgrown child. And from the looks of him, one dose of the toxin would likely kill him.

Jonathan preferred test subjects who could last at least a few trials. It gave them more time to observe the effects.

“There’s been no mistake, Mr. Styver,” he called down to the weasley little man. Situated in her spot comfortably curled in his lap, he heard Vanessa chuckle, index finger circling lazily against his shoulder where it was wrapped around him. She had her face half pressed into his neck, making it awfully difficult for him to remain focused. Especially when her lips lightly brushed against his skin from time to time. She was surveying the crowd lazily, watching for anyone who might think of trying something again.

“You are Philip Stryver, executive vice-president of Daggett Industries? Who for years has been living off the blood and sweat of people less powerful than him,” Jonathan cocked his head, looking down at Stryver disapprovingly. He’d heard about Daggett. Anyone who worked for him, especially in such a high level position, frankly probably deserved whatever horrific atrocities were dealt their way.

“Call Bane. I’m–I am one of you,” Stryver pleaded.

Vanessa laughed like it was the most absurd thing she’d ever heard, her body shaking with it. Jonathan had to agree. He’d skimmed over Stryver’s file while they were waiting for him to be dragged before him. Born rich and growing even richer in his adulthood, with two loving, stable parents and a happy childhood. He couldn’t have been more different from either of them if he tried.

“Bane has no authority here,” Jonathan smiled cruelly. “This is merely a sentencing hearing. Now, the choice is yours! Exile or death!”

All around the room, the crowd began to chant and cheer. “Death!”

Jonathan banged his gavel thunderously. “Order!”

“Ex-exhile,” Stryver stammered. Jonathan fought the temptation to roll his eyes. Typical. But not unsurprising. He knew word had begun to spread about what they did to those who chose death.

“Sold!” he brought the gavel down. “To the man in the cold sweat.”

They picked him up and began to haul him away while Jonathan called for the next guilty soul to be dragged before him.

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#jonathan crane #jonathan crane x oc #the dark knight trilogy #my ocs #vanessa sullivan #vanessa sullivan x jonathan crane #watch the world burn #the shadow game #my fanfiction

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