Miriam

Five in the morning seems to come far too quickly. I don’t enjoy rising early, but I do anyway, rolling out of bed with a groan. I get dressed, tuck a gun into my waistband just in case. I’ve been set up before. There’s someone waiting for me at the entrance of the carnival. He’s slight, only a bit taller than me, and thin. Delicate features, almost pretty, with thick brown curls most girls would envy. And his eyes, Christ. Arresting, deep blue and so intense even I feel uncomfortable. I figure this is the guy who’ll lead me to my client. A smile softens his face slightly as he extends a hand.
“Ms. Webster.”
It’s the man who spoke to me last night. I still like his voice.
“Hello.”
I shake cautiously, smiling myself. At least there’ll be someone attractive to look at on this job.
“Are you ready to go?”
I nod, motioning for him to go first. He walks next to me, though, just as careful as I am.
“So, what can you tell me about the boss?”
He looks at me strangely, mouth twisting.
“Excuse me?”
“The guy who hired me. Your boss?” I drawl, like he’s stupid. Something dark flares in his eyes. Interesting. “I’m assuming he sent you here to pick me up. What’s he like?”
The guy flushes for a moment, then smirks.
“He’s...well, he’s a genius. Smartest man you’ll ever meet. A little bit twisted. Great with women. Devastatingly handsome.”
I’m confused.
“Are you fucking him or something?”
The guy turns and grins at me, blue eyes bright.
“Or something. Ms. Webster, I am him. My name is Jonathan Crane, but most people call me Scarecrow.”
It takes all of my training not to gape. I’m already embarrassed enough. I’ve checked out and insulted my boss within minutes of meeting him. My trainers would be ashamed.
“I apologize, Mr. Crane. My employers don’t often contact me personally.”
He smiles, but I’m wondering if he’s going to spray that fear toxin at me.
“It’s alright. More of a lapse on my part. I’ve never done this before,” he admits, looking down shyly.
I can see how he’d be charming, a trickster. Getting close enough to infect your mind with fear.
“Am I hired, then?”
He raises his head, grinning playfully. His long fingers are fiddling with the bottom of his shirt and he looks different somehow. Out of control.
“We, ah, both agree on you,” he says, leering.
I’m confused and a little flattered.
“Excuse me?”
Crane shakes his head once, hissing. When he looks up again, the wild expression is gone.
“I beg your pardon, Ms. Webster. My alter ego sometimes appears without warning.”
So this is Crane, and that was Scarecrow, showing his basest emotions. Intriguing, but I just nod.
“I’m sure I’ll get used to it, sir.”
We step inside a Hall of Mirrors, light gleaming from every angle. He leads me through that and to his base, a series of rooms underground. It smells of chemicals and stuff is strewn everywhere. Old food, clothes, bits of medical paraphernalia, comic books, everything that makes up the possessions of a deranged young man. It seems that Crane is not as orderly as he appears to be.
“Sit, please, here,” he says, brushing a Batman comic off the couch. I bite my lip to hold back a smile, but he notices. “I’m attempting to know everything about the enemy,” he explains, settling across from me.
“I see. So, to business,” I say, taking my phone out. “You pay me fifty grand up front, twenty five for every month after that. Hundred grand if I get seriously injured, as well as shelter, food, and clothes. In return, you can use me for anything.”
I’m talking about assassination, body guarding, stuff like that, but the side of his mouth turns up.
“Anything?” he asks, and for a moment I can see Scarecrow.
“No attempting to hurt or kill me, but yes. Pretty much anything.”
It’s not like I haven’t fucked someone for a job before. He just nod, so I figure Scarecrow’s gone and fucking is no longer in the cards. Too bad. He pays in cash, and I am officially working for Scarecrow.
“What can I do for you first, Mr. Crane?” I ask, crossing my legs. He’s standing now, messing with some sort of syringe.
“I’m going out tonight, so your services won’t be needed at my side. I suppose you could tidy my rooms.” He looks over his shoulder, sheepish. “Or is that undignified?” I smile, start gathering his books. I pretend not to notice the Scarecrow mask hanging from his back pocket. “I have things to arrange first, so I won’t be back for some time. You could get settled in. There are several empty rooms down here, although no furniture has been provided.”
“I have my own.”
It feels like a long time since I slept in my own bed. Baby Doll made me sleep at the foot of her goddamned crib. Nasty little bitch.
“Excellent. Well, I’ll be off then.”
He gives me an awkward half-wave and leaves.
By the time I’m done cleaning Crane’s (rather extensive) mess, it’s six at night and people are screaming. Crane must not have travelled far from his base, because I can faintly hear demented laughter and people running overhead.
It’s too dangerous to get my stuff now, so I kick off my shoes, slip my tights off, and undo the first few buttons of my blouse, preparing to relax. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, retrieve my stuff when Crane gets back.
Unfortunately, Crane is not exactly the one who returns to me. I get Scarecrow instead, sneaking from behind to jump out and tackle me to the ground. I’m stuck beneath his weight, wrists pinned above my head, and since I already know I’m fucking twisted, I can admit it’s turning me on. Crane’s not wearing the mask, but I can see Scarecrow behind his eyes.
“Sir?”
I try to struggle from under him, but the bastard’s stronger than he looks. He keeps my wrists together with one hand and moves the other to my bare leg. As his fingers brush the inside of my thigh, I deeply regret taking the tights off.
“So soft,” he murmurs, tracing circles into my skin. “I bet you’d scream so pretty. Make you beg for it.” His fingers move a little higher, teasing, and he’s holding me so I can’t grind down. “Watch you cum on my dick again and again, fill you right up,” he rasps, breath hot in my ear.
“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m asking for, but I’m wet and he feels so good, and it’s been too long.
I almost cry when Scarecrow fades and Crane is back, blinking down at me. I know he’s hard, I can fucking feel it, but he rolls off me and sits up, adjusting his tie.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Webster. I didn’t mean to lose control....Are you alright?”
I prop myself up on my elbows and sigh, knowing my bra is showing but not really caring.
“I’m fine, sir.” I want to tell him it’s okay if he wants to fuck me, part of the job, no emotions wanted, but the guy has just hired me. No need to overwhelm. So I just stand up, brush myself off, and smile. “Well, that was exciting. I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”
I can feel his eyes on me as I fall asleep.