If there was one thing the Scarecrow loved above everything, it was Gotham City. The town might be filthy and devoured by crime but a constant feeling of fright that couldn't be found anywhere else crawled through the streets. This particular atmosphere was unique not even Blüdhaven and Hub City, the only cities where the number of murders per days were higher, couldn't mimic something quite like that. It was as if something in the water gave a new breath to the monsters once the sun set. How would it have been possible for them to survive their numerous wounds otherwise ?

The Doctor Jonathan Crane knew very well what he was talking about. Throughout his life he'd suffered more supposedly fatal blows than most of his colleagues and far more than the Joker. And you see, if sometimes the human skeletal framework was incredibly solid, organs never were. During his medicine studies he'd learned that bones were stronger than an iron bar of the same weight, the rib cage in particular was as supple as it was robust to protect the set of vital organs that were beneath it. But very often it just wasn't enough. While he worked as an intern at Gotham General Hospital he'd discovered that the heart of a man could stop hours after a fight because of a blow to the chest, that if someone stayed too long with his head upside down he risked a stroke and how many brawl winners had been found dead without any apparent injuries ?

But the Batman had never killed anyone. As a doctor he knew it was virtually impossible given the way he handled criminals. It was just as impossible that the journalists covered his mistakes, as the scandal press loved nothing more than seeing a hero fall. His theory was that Gotham was inhabited by an Eldritch abomination, maybe Cthulhu himself, and that he gave them all strength against Batman. The poor Dark Knight sometimes had to call other heroes for backup but was it enough ?

Well, the state the League of Shadows had left the town into amply answered that question.

The bridges had been damaged, the grime accumulated, the water and electricity supply was cut for now and fear covered the town like a heavy war fog. One could have thought that a man as organized as the Doctor Crane would hated the Chaos but i twas the contrary. He wasn't worried for his living arrangements, after all he was probably one of the only one who planned ahead and stocked up on water and food where he lived. He wasn't worried about the probable epidemics of cholera, plague and Hansen's disease either. As a matter of fact he was impatiently waiting for the epidemic and the mass panic it would cause. That and he was going to steal the pharmaceutical companies's stocks. Of course all hospitals had some stocks just in case, but it wouldn't be enough to heal te whole city and being able to choose who would live or rot in a place that looked more and more like Bogota by the day was real power. The power of Fear that sometimes made him feel like a God.

" …It became boils breaking out with sores on man and beast... "

Exodus. He couldn't keep a low chuckle from escaping his lips. Great Granny Grace had made him learnt entire passages by heart. He'd found it humiliating. Now ? Quite inspiring. The way people made up merciless beings that ruled through Fear was… fascinating. As if the most primitive part of their brains whispered to them that they truly needed to fear to be alive.

But he'd study that later. Right now, he had a test subject to collect.

The Scarecrow rose slowly, cautiously between the roofs until he was in the perfect spot, there he leaned his carcass against the tiles, fingers crossed across his stomach
He'd spied his prey for weeks, making sure that she'd be a perfect lab rat. Her father was a well liked salesclerk, her mother a benevolent nurse who always helped her neighbors for free when there was a medicament shortage. She was popular in high school without being vile. Religious, she helped the minister prepare the mass, often helped the local charitable organizations and leaded the abstinence club.

Pretty, young, intelligent, sweet, beloved… Mourned.

He'd studied her reaction when the photographs of her had appear beneath her pillow, the look of anguish on her face when she saw her half naked silhouette through the curtains, the fear when she told her parents everything was alright. Then he started to appear at sunset when she closed her window for the night, like a specter among the shadows. It was then that the terror started to eat her from the inside. Her parents, as afraid for their daughter as she was afraid for them, had bought sleeping pills for her and slipped them into her food to make their precious offspring feel better. Little they knew that he'd replaced them with drugs laced with low amounts of fear toxin to worsen her nightmares. The turmoil of emotions he'd carefully built up was at it's peak.

Ripe for the harvest.

He let himself slide on a few feet before gracefully jumping toward the facade of the building and clinging onto the raingutter. It would have broken down under the weight of someone who wasn't as skeletal as he was. Crane took a picklock out of his pockets and reached through the bars for the lock. It gave way seconds later and the window opened, letting a warm breeze invite him in. The iron bars were more of a decoration than a real protection and he slipped in between them like a ghost.

The room was in semi darkness, opening the window hadn't helped since he'd broken every lamppost in the vicinity three days ago. The horrified look on her face had made him shiver in anticipation. He prowled around the bedroom for a few seconds, looking at her various trinkets, before finally approaching her sleeping form, looking at her from above like Füssli's monster. She'd pushed the drapes away, proof that she wasn't so peaceful after all and her eyelids twitched because of her nightmares. Crane smirked. As fascinating as her fear could be, he couldn't allow himself to stay too long. He switched the robin for a bottle of Ether and a gauze compress. Once the fabric was soaked he put it an inch from her nose, allowing her to breath the fumes. After a few seconds her breath became calmer and her eyelids stopped moving. The scarecrow put his things away and swiftly wrapped her white frame in his coat, darker and less noticeable. As he lifted her from the bed, her neck secure against his shoulder, some of her red hair stayed on the sheets.

Minutes later, as the doctor was disappearing in the sewers he had a amusing thought. A young virgin in a white nightdress, crimson hair spilling onto her back like blood, vanishing into the darkness of the night, taken away by the God of Fear.

Bradbury would have loved.


Short I know but hey, I'm french and in college and have three other fanfictions o3o. This was written for the DCfanfictionWriters group on deviantart, the prompt for this month was "Fear Toxin". I know, not a lot of it but I love the subtlety and I'm really, really fond of this text. Pervy, unsettling, very characteristic of my headcannon for the Scarecrow, bucket loads of creepy symbolism and alliterations in "s", because sss= snake, and snake= fear for me, however since sss= snake then sss= fear Example : "...his carcass against the tiles, fingers crossed across his stomach."

... Will you be able to find the creepy hidden symbolism in this text :D ?

Notes about this :

- What happened to the girl ? It's in the text.

- Hansen's disease is another name for Leprosy. Since he's a doctor I thought he would know about the diseases's other names and stuff.

- Yes there's a passage of the Bible, no I have nothing against religion. The good doctor does. ANd he has a bit of a God complex remember ? : "I am the master of FEAR, the Lord of Despair [...] SCREAM Hosannas of ANguish ! To SCARECROW ! The All Knowing God of FEAR !" If THIS doesn't scream God complex to you I don't know what does.

- Yes, Great Granny Grace. Because GGG and Grace is a synonym for Mercy. Fits like a glove. Also, Crane means "Skull" in french... so Jonny's name can mean " Skull given by God". Come on, how awesome is that ? That and his initials are J.C... My headcannon is that Nygma refers to him as the Antichrist. And hates him.

- Füssli made a nice paint called « The Nightmare ».

- Ether works better than chloroform and has less side effects, it's also easier to find.

- A robin is an old synonym for a picklock :3 .