ScareYoung Short: Afraid No More
"Hand over the toxin formula, Crane," a crook said.
Scarecrow scowled at the audacity but could do little to protect himself from a punch with his hands tied. His burlap mask hid the blood running down his nose. His only response was cold.
"It's 'my dead body,' genius," the second assailant said, holding a crowbar.
There was a twitch of his lip in to a smile under the sewn mouth of the mask. He looked directly up at them now amused. "Exactly."
Neither men had a chance to process his madness when a scythe blade decapitated one from behind sending blood splattering in front of him and some got on his outfit. The remaining crook whipped around only for the blade to come down through his head. Brain matter slid off the tip of it, much to Scarecrow's delight. The scythe ripped out of the man who fell lifeless, wide eyed and now lacking the brain he already had limited of apparently. The scythe was flipped around rapidly before parking elegantly by the side of his girlfriend.
"I was...afraid you were taking your sweet time just to see me suffer," he grinned.
Out of the shadows, Dr. Penelope Young stood with his weapon in hand. It suited her and made him feel a swell of pride but also slight uncertainty as Penelope used to be against him. They were alike though he got caught with his experiments. She didn't. They butted heads a lot during their mutual employment but now that he was on the other side of the asylum, they had plenty of opportunities to get to know one another, and Penelope was just as messed up as he was. Arguably, he didn't mind the dynamic shift to a degree.
The woman softened her expression a little but still held some resting face from the massacre. "When you said you wanted to take me out on the city, this isn't what you meant, is it?"
"Planned, no. But you're a natural born killer when you let your fear take control. Admirable, and I am admittedly liking this version of you. A far cry from the Dr. Young who used to be taken hostage every other riot."
Penelope glared down at him and stomped the staff end right between his legs like a threat. "I'm done being the damsel. It's your turn."
"There's the Scarequeen dressed in white though innocence be damned, what a miraculous sight," he poetically purred.
"You spend too much time with Jervis."
As soon as she unbound him, he grabbed her waist and held her on his lap laughing, "If you didn't like my eccentric behavior, you wouldn't have saved me."
Penelope held the bloody scythe close looming near him like a warning. It almost got him riled up amid the unsettling nature of it. She wasn't afraid like she used to be. She wasn't the doormat doctor he could psychologically torture with his quips and assurance of fear. She had become something much deadlier and with that, Scarecrow saw this woman and felt something he hadn't ever thought he would experience before.
"You aren't afraid," he muttered to himself almost in disbelief of the change.
Penelope hummed, "Not anymore."