Hey everyone, like I said, this is a oneshot for now, but could be continued if people like it and wanted me too... :) Hope you enjoy! :D
The lights pulsed around him. Booming bass and screaming voices grated at his eardrums. He hated places like this- stupid clubs just outside of the Narrows that made regular citizens of Gotham feel risky, and some of the riskier thugs feel a little safer doing business with 'posh' members of the city.
But as much as he hated it, coming here was a vital step in succeeding with his experiments. There was just something so… satisfying about seeing the difference between their faces in pure bliss and ecstasy, and their faces when facing their worst imaginable fear.
He watches the bouncing crowd for a short time, but is losing his patience. He wishes he could just use the psychos he deals with every day, but someone might notice. It's better to just use someone here in this dingy nightclub because it can't be traced back to him. Things go wrong in places like these every day. No one would suspect a high-end doctor at Arkham to be in a place like this.
The presence in his head is beginning to get impatient. It wants to move.
"Not yet." The doctor would appear to be talking to himself, but luckily it goes unnoticed by the civilians around him. The presence is getting more defined, and it actually makes the doctor nervous because he can't figure out what exactly it is. It's not a split personality, it's not some sort of stupid ghost story, it's an actual presence with its own thoughts and desires. And the doctor isn't sure what to do about it yet.
A woman in a revealing dress saunters toward him and he represses a gag. It's not that he doesn't appreciate a good time with a woman, but when women come to places like this and try to act sexy and attractive, it just revolts him more than anything.
"Hello, there." She says with a wink. She has long, wavy hair, and her makeup looks like it's caked on. She might be a good subject, but the presence in his head disagrees. She's all too predictable. She wouldn't last, and would be a waste of the five minutes it would take for her to succumb to his newest formula.
The doctor doesn't even acknowledge her presence, and gets up with a silent sigh. He passes right by her and ignores her protests. He scans the crowd, looking for someone new.
There were the people in the showy crowd, who thought all it took was a short dress and lip gloss to make a man follow them out of here. There were the bar-groupies that only wanted someone to buy them a drink. There were the chair-warmers, who would be sitting in the same place all night just waiting for someone to notice them. And then there were the roamers. People that couldn't make up their minds on where to go, but would enjoy the whole place throughout the night.
A roamer was probably best qualified to be a subject. No one could remember them because they never stayed in one place for very long; making it very hard to have a determined witness if they happened to go missing.
He passed by a few groups of people, searching for the right person. Drinks spilled and sloshed all over him, and he had to hold back his temper. He wanted nothing more than to set this whole place on fire and watch as the gas affected them all, but he knew that wasn't going to help anything, so he tried to control it.
There. A woman was standing on the edge of the dance floor. To others, she probably looked stuck up and important, but he could see through it. Her eyes scanned the audience a little too quickly. She shifted her weight back and forth like she was nervous and trying to convince herself that everything was fine.
He grinned.
He walked over to her with a relaxed saunter, and then looked around innocently.
"You looking for someone?" He asked in a smooth voice.
She glanced back up at him, and he read the emotions flicker across her face. Irritation, spite, and calculation. But no fear… He wondered why she didn't fear this stranger.
"No. He's not here." She said, looking back at the crowd.
"So 'no', you're not looking for someone, or 'no' he's not here?" His voice was a little too sharp.
"That's none of your business." She snapped.
"Well, I'm sorry." He said, trying to ignore the increasing irritation of the presence inside his head. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Doctor-"
NO! The voice shouted in his head. Have you gone insane?! You can't give her your real name! Do you want to get us killed?!
He froze. The presence actually talked to him. It had its own speech now. This was getting out of control. He grabbed his head and shook it back and forth quickly.
"You're a freak." The woman said, flipping her hair and hurrying away.
The presence imagined her frightened face as they leered over her…
"Stop." He said to it.
You know you wanted to see it too… The voice thought. Maybe even more than I did…
The doctor shook his head a bit, and scanned the room for the woman again. He may have made a slight mistake, but it didn't mean the night was a complete waste of his time.
Just find someone new…
Now that the presence had found its voice, it apparently wasn't going to shut up. The doctors head was beginning to ache, but whether that was due to the voice or the music in the club he wasn't sure.
He scanned the room once more, but gave up after another comment from his head. He put his hands in his pockets and sulked out of the club. He drove home feeling slightly nauseous and getting more and more irritated as the voice became clearer.
After shutting his front door, he slumped down the wall with his head in his hands.
Aren't you going to take an Advil or something? The voice asks sarcastically. Because I thought that was the reason you decided to waste the night feeling sorry for yourself.
"Stop talking to me!" He shouted. "Just leave me alone!"
Ha! Nice try, doctor, but I feel pretty permanent. It's not like I can ask you to just stop existing. Face it, you created me, and now here I am!
"No, no no no no….." He moaned.
Jonathan Crane. Listen to me! You want to create fear, right? I was created by fear. I know exactly how it works. I can help you get want you want, don't you see? We're partners.
"I belong inside a cell at Arkham." He said.
No you don't! You deserve to have a statue in front of it! Or better yet, in front of the capitol! Just think of the possibilities now that you have help!
He could feel the determination of the presence and the excitement of the future's possibilities.
Anarchy. Revolution. Hierarchy. Him in control of it all… The world run on fear. It sounded perfect.
But it wasn't right! Not that the doctor cared about laws and morals, but if he was going to be in charge, he wanted to be mentally sane enough to enjoy it. He wasn't planning on a second 'voice' to his judgment.
Two heads are better than one…
"Will you just shut up for a second so I can think?!"
The image of a onyx colored bird flashed behind his eyelids, and he cringed back, moving his hands to protect his face. After a moment, he realized that there really wasn't a real bird there, but the presence was trying to show him something.
You're afraid of crows? It was almost a statement.
The half-repressed memory tugged at his awareness, and he tried to shove it away. He was only nine or ten when it happened… A faint shimmer tingled down his arms and back.
The presence pushed the memory away without prying, and the doctor felt the immediate relief.
"I guess two heads are better than one…" He allowed.
Excellent. The voice whispered.
"I know this may sound weird, but do you want some sort of name or something?" He asked.
The image of the crow came back with a flash and disappeared, making the man go through the shock and relief process once again.
Scarecrow. You can call me Scarecrow.