Fear
A Joker X Scarecrow (Johnathan Crane) Slash.
By Zombie-Ta
Don't like it? Get the FUCK out.
Also, I'm writing as "The Dark Knight" (NOLAN-VERSE) style just because Cillian Murphy and Heath Ledger action is just too sweet to pass up, yeah?
Disclaimers - There's going to be smut in this story as it goes on. In fact, there's going to be a whole lot of it. It's male on male, homosexual and very explicit.
I have taken liberties with the characters, as most writers do.
I don't own any of the characters in this story, Bob Kane and his wonderful team do.
Let's all thank him for writing such a lovely world with such OBVIOUS gay under tones. Thanks Bob, you rock.
Fear
Chapter One - Smile Like You Mean It
"Whhhat aarrrre yooou afraaaaid offff?"
The creature that had once been a brutal drug dealer from the meaner streets of Gotham squirmed in the corner. His face was a mask of terror, mouth slack with a high-pitched scream. His eyes opened up to show the gleaming whites, face slick with sweat running in stinking rivers between the stubble on his pasty mug. Behind the rough burlap mask with a stitched grin and torn eyes the young man's lips quirked up slightly. He was Dr. Johnathan Crane... Or at least he had been Dr. Johnathan Crane before that nasty encounter with the Batman. He shivered inside of the layers of his costume, pale skin prickling under the expensive business suit that he had stolen. As if a chill could penetrate those layers of ripped rough cloth that made him what he was right now. His alternate persona which had only grown stronger in the recent months, strengthened by his short stays in Arkham, fed by the fears that he tried to shun in the night.
"WHAT ARE YOU AFRAID OF?!" He barked, enjoying the scream that the pusher issued forth. He had struggled on the ground, crawling and scampering like an insect, to get away from the monster that was Scarecrow. Now tears mixed with the sweat on his face, he lifted his hands and shielded his head from Crane, who was riding high. He enjoyed the fear he saw on the man's face, he could taste it on his tongue sweet and hot. He bent down and put his face down to the drug dealer, so they were nearly nose to nose, using his long fingered hands to hold the man's wrists. The drug dealer screamed and Johnathan could on imagine what he saw while looking into the nearly featureless burlap mask. The doctor forcibly pushed away the memory of what he had seen while looking into the Batman's face after getting a shot of his own medicine.
The months in Arkham, after he'd been caught the night of his release by... That man... Everything after being sprayed by his own weaponized fear drug was hazy. He remembered holding conversations inside his own head with his long time muse Scarecrow. The young doctor hadn't feared that part of him before, not ever, but then again the arrogant doctor wasn't accustomed to fearing much... Back then. Now, however he was fear. Or at least he was when he had his costume on, but then again once the hood was slipped over his head Crane ceased being Crane anyway. He relinquished his body to his other half, Scarecrow. The adventures half, the half that wanted to rip and maim and kill and most importantly scare. With out the hood Crane still wasn't his old self, or at least not the real Johnathan Crane. The old Crane was a creator of fear, he was a confident doctor, a God damned genius of amazing proportions! Fearless and arrogant, ignorant to his own monsters, the ones that now tortured Johnathan in the night.
He often didn't sleep at night, the dark was full of too much unknown. The Batman might be lurking in the shadows made by his half closed door, or under the bed, or in closet. Countless other places! Crane would lay awake in his bed, icy blue eyes open and shifting around in the darkness and finally when light appeared in the horizon sometimes he would sleep. But those weren't the nights he spent away from his small apartment in the slummiest districts of the Narrows, the nights when he was spineless Johnathan Crane. Tonight he was Scarecrow, proud and terrifying and deep down the hidden meek Crane reveled in what horrors he could instill in people. People that had beaten him down for most of his life. Scarecrow tilted his head and looked at the screaming heap of humanity in the face. It was the appearance that Crane had been pitted against sense elementary school, a bully and a wretch.
"Look at the power I have over you..." Scarecrow mumbled and then lifted the drug dealer to his feet, who came easily but still screaming. "Look at the way I can make you SREAM!" He yelled the last word and slammed the thug's head against the unpainted drywall of the living room. He'd come for the thug in the night, slithering into an open window from the fire escape and spraying him while he cooked heroin on the couch. Crane smiled in his soft way under his mask again, just a slight twitch to his unseen lips. "Now..." Whispered Scarecrow, covering the thug's mouth with one hand cutting off his screams, the other hand was lightly on the man's neck holding him upright on that wall.
"I want you to tell me exactly why I haven't gotten my pay yet?" He looked into the thug's fear fevered eyes, catching a small amount of understanding there. Scarecrow let go of his mouth and the thug choked on a scream only to have his cry silenced again by Crane's quick hand. "I'm going to ask you again..." Said Scarecrow in his harsh whisper, hearing his deep voice crackle in his throat. "WHY HAVEN'T I BEEN PAID YET?" The thug's head was jarred back into the wall as Scarecrow shook him with adrenaline induced strength. The drugs that Crane had delivered to this dealer three days ago had not been paid for yet... They weren't a custom job, just the hallucinogen that the League had commissioned him to make. Well, Crane had to admit that he thought that it was strange that a low life like this had wanted the fear inducing toxin for recreational use, but then again Crane had no business with this man other then a simple exchange drugs for money. Well, Crane thought to him self while looking through the torn eye holes of his mask, he had watered down the mixture and added a few things to make it different then his original structure.
Not that it should matter. He panted, the slight amount of vicious physical activity had tired him out. Crane was never a very physically imposing man, always thin and average height. More bookish then anything he supposed and this villain thing was an energy costing endeavor. Johnathan's mouth was open behind his hood, a small amount of spittle had landed on his full pink lips from his angry out burst. His blue eyes widened, then shrunk down to their usual half lidded arrogant place as he took his hand from the criminal's mouth again. The man wasn't looking at Scarecrow anymore, his wide terrified eyes were locked behind him. The thug screamed at a throat bursting pitch, and a blood vessel burst in his bugging eyes. Crane smelled the strong scent of urine and looked down as the man spilled his bladder, all the while screaming in one long note.
The drug dealer's chest seemed to burst open, splitting his grimy tee-shirt at the same time Crane let go of him and fell back onto the ground in shock. The drug dealer was hit with a barrage of bullets, splattering his fleshy middle on the wall behind him. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion as the thug slid down the wall, leaving a trail of thick red blood and guts. Crane looked with mild shocked interest as the man's inner workings spilled out of his torn stomach and slithered all over his thighs like a spilled bucket of snakes. "Well..." there was a short pause and a soft sound like a soft hand on wet skin. "I'm out of bullets." Crane, abandoning his Scarecrow exteriors barely had time to scream before he fell to the ground of the apartment floor. The world swam in his eyes and the sensation of warm blood running from above his right ear was ignored. He saw a pair of brown leather shoes and the cuffs of purple suit pants before the gun was dropped by his head. The sound like soft wet flesh being caressed was herd again and he felt a slight prodding near his rib cage. "... Pick him up will yaaa? ... Um... Fuck... Put him in the caaaaar..."
Crane felt rough hands on his body, hoisting him up like a carpet. His head lolled back on a boneless neck and he caught the blurred sight of a purple shape crouching low, blocking his view of the thug. The man shape turned and looked back toward him, locking eyes with Crane, who whimpered as he saw a mangled face covered in sick war pain. His head met with the frame of the door as the man how held him looked back toward Joker. The doctor finally slipped into unconsciousness as his glasses slipped off of his face from under his hood. They landed on the floor, the slim silver frames bouncing on the stained shag carpet of the floor. Joker snarled at the thug to be careful with him, that they needed Crane before the Clown Prince of Crime turned back to the mangled body of the drug dealer. His purple gloved hands lifted and he softly touched the man's face, caressing the thug like and old friend. Joker slapped him softly as if to wake him up and then stood and walked out of the room whistling with the mixed smell of urine, blood and gun smoke in his nose. He stopped and picked up Crane's glasses from the floor in a fluid movement, licking his lips letting his tongue linger on his torn smile.