Faded Fear || Jonathan Crane (ON HOLD)

001 - Meeting Again

  In my chair, I wait for my next patient to be brought to me by Arkham Asylum guards.

And I knew exactly who it was. Jonathan Crane, or Scarecrow.

He wasn't new, but he was just caught by the dark knight himself! It happened quiet often, along with other crime lords of Gotham. And, I've treated a lot of them, too.

  I hated Jonathan the most though. And I'm sure he hated me. He teased me about how my siblings were dead and how it was all my father's fault. It was his fault, though. And I hated him for it. He was a useless father. And a horrible man. But, he only turned like that when my mother had died from cancer. It was a rough time, and it hit David harder than the three of us. He owed money, a lot of it, when my brother and sister were killed. I was injured, but somehow survived four gunshots. And I would do anything to get my sister and brother back.

  Soon, there was a knock at my office door and I knew the guards had finally come to drop off Scarecrow.

"Come in!" I yell, loud enough for them to hear me. Not a minute later, the guards had emerged from the doorway, with a handcuffed Jonathan behind them.

"If you need anything just call," one of them says, while the other shoved Jonathan, making him sit on the old, leather couch that was in the middle of the room.

"Okay, thank you," I thank them. They leave without another word. I turn my attention to the man seated on in front of me. "So, Jonathan. How are you today?" I ask him, a slight smile on my face.

"What's it to you?"

"Actually, I want to know how Batman keeps capturing you and bringing you here. Aren't you supposed to be the master of something?" I tease.

"I am the Master of Fear. Don't test me, doctor. I will kill you," he challenged.

"You can't. This whole island is heavily guarded, better than before. So, you couldn't lay a finger on me, the surgeons, or the nurses that are on this island! And besides, you haven't even hurt me since any of you have broken out. It makes me wonder. . ."

A sigh was the only thing he gave and he sunk into the the couch.

"Alright then, how was your childhood?" I ask.

"You've read my file, why do you care?" He rests his head on his hand, a bored expression on his face.

"Yeah, but that's been written down. How about you let me hear your perspective about it?" I lean forward on my desk, my arms folding on top of it.

Another sigh. "Fine, if you must know, I wasn't cared for by my parents. I was given to my grandmother. That wicked old hag, she thought I was some kind of demon child. But, I killed her," he speaks so casually.

"And your school life?"

"I was bullied, picked on. They called me Scarecrow, because I was skinny and tall. They picked on me, teased me, called me names, pushed me around, like I was some kind of peasant. But, I got my revenge." He smiles wickedly.

"Some say revenge is an idiots game,"

"I could kill you."

"You could, but then again, you can't. Now, tell me about how you started with the fear and such." He's silent for a while, debating on speaking or not. And finally, he does.

"Fear. . . Fear had always intrigued me. I liked the feeling of being better, bigger, and the cause of fear. I liked scaring things, especially as a child. I scared people, animals, it's all the same, when you think about it. Then, I became a professor at Gotham University, specializing in phobias," he explains, sharing at the wood floor.

"Eventually getting kicked out for experimenting on your students?" He nods. "I went to Gotham University for a while. I got my psychology degree there. Anything else you want to tell me?"

"How did you feel when you seen your siblings get killed? Scared? Hopeless? Empty?"

"What - ?!"

"Don't act so shocked. Almost everyone is Gotham knows about the killing. Your father owed money, didn't he? So, they came after you three. How did it feel, being shot four times? Although, you had the most gun wounds, you're the only one who survived. It's crazy isn't it, Lillian?" He asks, smirking at me.

I start to feel my skin get hot as I became angry. "Don't talk about that like you were there! You know nothing! You act as if you're the greatest person to ever live. I'm not the one chained to a couch! I'm not the one locked in an asylum! I'm not the one who's obsessed with an emotion!"

"I-"

"No, you don't get to talk. Why is it that you get to pick on me, tease me about my family being dead? My father was useless! He was abusive, an alcoholic, and a drug user! And I'm glad I actually survived those gunshots. You want to know why? Because, it tells me that I'm not weak enough to be killed by my father's stupidity!" I rest my fists on my desk, staring directly at him.

"Did you ever think of joining us?" He asks.

Us?

"No! All my hard work would be worthless. Besides, I wouldn't want to work with you."

"Really? You don't want revenge on who killed your family?" He tested.

"I'm not an idiot."

Before either of us could speak again, we both hear a loud crash outside my door. There was another bang and the door swung open, revealing two bodies that drop down almost instantly, lifeless. I stare at them in shock.

"Not so 'heavily guarded' now, huh?"

"Shut up!"

"They better come after me," I hear him mumble.

"You're not going anywhere. We'll be safe in here. Don't worry," I grab the keys from the limp bodies and my hands became covered in blood as I successfully grabbed them. I stare at my hands for a quick second, the deep red almost dripping from my finger tips. I wipe the blood off my hands and on to the dead bodies.

"No, we won't. Well, you won't. The Joker will blow this place sky high! And Poison Ivy - do you even know what she does? Killer Croc is obviously the sewers. Lillian, this is an asylum. Filled with inmates!" He explains. Oh, right. Like I totally forgot about the inmates.

'Obviously, I won't last. And, I cannot trust Jonathan. Or, maybe I can?' I question myself after I had locked my office door. "I can't trust you. You're obviously unstable, and you're probably lying."

"Listen, I've got to get out of here too. I can help you, trust me," he pushes up his glasses closer to his eyes.

"I can't trust you, I just said that."

"You can if you try," he stares at me.

God, don't stare at me. I think about this for a second. I'm not seriously thinking about letting him go, am I? God.

"Ugh, fine," I unlock his handcuffs and he quickly stands up, cracking his wrists. He had whispered a 'finally' and looks down at me. His height was almost intimidating. I knew he was tall but it still surprised me. I suddenly feel small next to him.

"Okay, we've got to find Edward," he says, dropping the cuffs somewhere on the floor. I hear the metal clank together as they hit the ground.

"Edward? Why him?" I ask.

"Well, he'll obviously know the easiest way out."

"Oh. . ." I mumble.

Edward, The Riddler, was always my favorite. He was smart, charming, and I couldn't help but think he was attractive. His riddles were hard but, nevertheless, fun. And that's why I had always liked them, and our sessions. Maybe I shouldn't be thinking of him like that, not right now especially. Getting out of my thoughts, I catch Jonathan giving me a glare.

  "What?"

"Nothing, let's go."

And, without another word, we head out to begin our horrible journey to find the one and only Edward Nigma in Arkham Asylum.