Characters:
hatesafrica and
ornithophobiaWhere: Some street in the city.
Rating: Probably PG-13.
Time: August 2nd.
Description: Rachel goes to get herself more acquainted with the town and all the stores, and has an unexpected meeting along the way.
(
Another one bites the dust. )
So the third day, he didn't even wait for nightfall; it couldn't have been far past twilight when the Scarecrow ventured out looking for someone, anyone. Any urgent issues he'd already sorted out with his first two subjects. Now he just needed to get as much of his toxin distributed as widely as possible.
He wondered, coming across the first person he saw, how long it'd take for these thick people to realise that walking the lesser-populated streets alone was going to be a bad idea from now on. Ah well, no use looking a gift horse in ( ... )
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He held his hands out, palms outwards to show the girl how empty and weapon-free they were (for the time being.) Obviously she was on the verge of flight, and although he doubted that he could do anything to significantly placate her, perhaps the gesture would buy him more time to enjoy this.
"You're right, I'd be crazy to try anything now," Scarecrow said, not deigning to mention that the screams were more or less what he was planning on getting. "Luckily for you, I'm a very reasonable person despite what you may have heard. I don't intend to hurt you." Which is sort of true. He hazarded a few steps forward, as if around a cornered animal. At least he could be sure this one wouldn't bolt very far.
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"Actually, it may just be simpler to show you what I use it for," he offered. "But first, a quick dose of medicine--"
And without further warning, in one practised motion he took one large step forward and brought his arm up, outstretched, a white dust-like cloud of poison dispersing from the sleeve.
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She coughed, in the meantime, and waved her hand in front of her face to get the gas away. As her hand moved by her eyes, she saw the first one; an ant, crawling over her finger. She grimaced, flicking it away with another finger. It managed to stay on, though; then she noticed more, over her hands and arms. She started brushing them off, rubbing her arms with her hands. When this didn't do anything, she held her face in her hands, trying to stop from panicking. They're only bugs, she told herself; they can't do any permanent damage.
That was when she felt them crawling over her legs, her feet, her waist, her everywhere. She felt them over her face, even in her mouth. She spat ( ... )
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"Aha, you weren't exaggerating. You really can scream." It wasn't too late yet and he knew he'd have even less time than he had with Rhode the evening before -- a setback that was a lot more irritating now that he had to confront it -- but the girl was a stranger and so he had little interest in spending too much effort picking apart her mind. "Let me guess-- spiders? Snakes? Rats ( ... )
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After a little rummaging, he found something that was probably the communicator, except it was more like half a compact mirror and half a cell phone. He lies low for two days, and suddenly everyone's outfitted with new "technology," huh? Talk about timing. Letting the purse fall to the ground, Scarecrow walked briskly over to where the girl was kneeling on the ground. Ignoring her attempts to crawl away through whatever delusions she was experiencing, he seized her wrist.
"For your sake, I hope very much that this will get through to you. Now, you'll need this--" he explained, forcing ( ... )
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Just thinking about it made her start to panic again, and she took deep breaths to try and calm herself. She could hear small snippets of what he was saying. He... wanted her to call? Well, she sure wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste, and she searched for the red button they had talked about. She could barely see it, under the ants. When she felt the man's hand leave her wrist, she backed up frantically, searching for the button. She shook the device, trying to get some of the insects off, and finally saw the button. She pushed her thumb down on it hurriedly. Whether or not it could hear her, she began to ( ... )
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He rose and gave the girl some space -- no, no sign of knives from this one yet, but better safe than sorry -- and shrugged at her display. "But you're not going to get them off you that way. If you're holding out hope that help will arrive before they consume you whole... I wouldn't count on it."
...Whatever "they" were. It'd be interesting to see if this one would be the first to go truly mad, but he'd have to check up on the effects later -- time to abscond before help did arrive. With that, Scarecrow left the girl to her own devices.
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