Jonathan Crane stepped up to the officer.

"Dr. Crane, thanks for coming," she said as he stopped in front of her.

Roman had been arrested, and was trying his best to seem insane in an attempt to get Crane down here. An attempt that worked.

"Not at all," Crane said with a smile. But he wiped the smile from his face. "He cut his wrists?"

"Probably looking for the insanity plea," she said. "But if anything should happen--"

"Of course," he nodded. "Better safe than sorry."

He stepped into Torchwick's cell, where he saw him leaning back against the chair with a smirk.

"Yeah, Dr. Crane, I can't take it anymore," he said. "It's all too much. The walls are closing in. Blah, blah, blah. A couple of days of this food, it'll be true."

"What do you want?" Crane asked.

"I wanna know how you're gonna convince me to keep my mouth shut," the ginger-haired mob boss said.

"About what? You don't know anything."

"I know you don't want the cops to take a closer look at the drugs they seized. And I know about your experiments with the inmates of your nut house. See, I don't go into business with a guy without finding out his dirty secrets. And those goons you used. I own the muscle in this town. Now, I've been bringing your stuff in for months, so whatever he's planning, it's big, and I want in."

That wasn't going to work for Crane, or for the boss. "Well, I already know what he'll say. That we should kill you."

Torchwick chuckled, shaking his head. "Even he can't get me in here. Not in my town."

Crane was not taking that as an answer. He took off his glasses, and set them down on the table.

"Would you like to see my mask?" he asked, pulling out his suitcase, and setting it down on the table. Torchwick took note of how excited he seemed as he opened it. "I use it in my experiments."

He pulled out the mask. It was an odd thing. Shaped like a scarecrow's head. "Now, it's probably not very frightening to a guy like you," he said, "but these crazies, they can't stand it."

Torchwick watched in confusion as Crane put on the mask. "So when did the nut take over the nut house?"

Crane pressed a button in the case, and a puff of smoke burst out.

Roman could feel the smoke suck through his nose, into his lungs. In an instant, he felt himself overwhelmed with fear, and he screamed at the top of his lungs as he stared up at Crane as he leaned towards him, his mask far more terrifying than before.

"They scream and they cry . . ." a demonic voice came to his ears, causing him to scream louder, ". . . much as you're doing now."

After his toxin cleared, Crane removed his mask, put it back in his suitcase, and walked out of the interrogation room to meet the officer.

"Well, he's not faking," he said. "Not that one. I'll talk to the judge and see if I can get him moved to the secure wing at Arkham. I can't treat him here."

With that, he walked away, with a sick smile on his face.

He'd always took pleasure in moments like that . . .