[57] - [Video]
[The angle swings around a bit before it settles on Crane. It's hard to work the buttons with his hands shaking like that. Ah, fear toxin karma. The best variety. Crane is talking very, very quickly.]
It's compelling. Rationally, I am aware of exactly what process my mind is going through. My body. Pulse racing. Perception warping. I can almost pinpoint to the minute of when I would have been dosed. When the reaction began. [Pause.] Perhaps when it ends. Possibly fatally. It depends on the dosage. If I've built up a resistance. If the resistance still lasts through the death toll.
[Crane twitches, before moving slightly to the left, as if there was something sitting next to him.]
I have quite a list of suspects. The Bat Man, for obvious reasons. Eames, in the spirit of extreme wardening. Perhaps. Nygma, because... [Crane trails off. There's no good reason.] It could have been any of you. All of you.
[Crane twitches again, before shifting the camera away from himself.]
I tried to take notes. [He continues, in a very slow voice.] But the hallucinations make it hard to see exactly what I've written. [The camera hovers over a notebook. Crane's right. He's written most of his sentences over the top of each other. What little is legible is a collection of disturbed rambling.] Writing it down didn't help. It didn't help at all.
It's compelling. Rationally, I am aware of exactly what process my mind is going through. My body. Pulse racing. Perception warping. I can almost pinpoint to the minute of when I would have been dosed. When the reaction began. [Pause.] Perhaps when it ends. Possibly fatally. It depends on the dosage. If I've built up a resistance. If the resistance still lasts through the death toll.
[Crane twitches, before moving slightly to the left, as if there was something sitting next to him.]
I have quite a list of suspects. The Bat Man, for obvious reasons. Eames, in the spirit of extreme wardening. Perhaps. Nygma, because... [Crane trails off. There's no good reason.] It could have been any of you. All of you.
[Crane twitches again, before shifting the camera away from himself.]
I tried to take notes. [He continues, in a very slow voice.] But the hallucinations make it hard to see exactly what I've written. [The camera hovers over a notebook. Crane's right. He's written most of his sentences over the top of each other. What little is legible is a collection of disturbed rambling.] Writing it down didn't help. It didn't help at all.