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Blank walls to his left. Blank walls to his right. Blank walls in front of him. Blank walls behind him. That seemed to be all there was in that accursed room. Blank walls. Jonathan Crane sighed and closed his eyes, trying to go to sleep while doing his best to keep himself awake. He didn't want another hideous, inexplicable nightmare.
Crane was, or used to be, a psychiatrist. Before Fear Night he was the head of Arkham Asylum where he performed experiments and stored away 'favors' to a certain deceased drug dealer known as Falcone. It was also where he kept his toxin. It made sense to him at the time. Keep the nutty gas in the nuthouse. Nobody would pay much attention the inane after effects of the toxin because all of its inhabitants were already crazy, right? Especially him.
Just because he was a little off in the head didn't mean he wasn't qualified for the position he was in. He had always respected the power of the mind over the body. This was probably a good thing since he was now prisoner in his old workplace, tied up in a straightjacket and propped against the head of a plastic bed. We're not there yet though. He found the mind to be fascinating and he studied it, taking his curiosity to college with him, graduating best in class and boosting himself up to the best in the business in Gotham. There was only one person he knew of who loved the mind and its power more than he did and that would be the Scarecrow. Only the Scarecrow was set on using it for dark intentions. Unfortunately, Crane could do little to stop him, for the Scarecrow was Crane himself. Having the voices whispering dark and cunning words into his head and finding himself around the wrong people, he soon found himself in a life or death situation with the League of Shadows. They wanted his toxin spread across the city's water system so that they could bring Gotham to its knees. His first thought was that this was just another crazy that needed to be admitted into his asylum and did nothing. That was, until, he began receiving death threats. That was when the Scarecrow took over once again, mass producing the toxin and dumping it into the water pipes under Arkham. By the time Crane realized exactly what he was planning to do, he was too deep in his work to dig himself back out. After the Batman took out a few other villains and saved the city from a possible time bomb set off by the Bane, he was landed here, tied up in Arkham Asylum, his own home betraying him. That was when the nightmares began.
The same thing every night, Crane could not make sense of them. He was in a room alone with tall stone pillars and shiny marble floors. He would walk forward and peek out a window where a flaming metal 'G' would fly toward his head, crashing through the window and landing on the floor. Then the lights would all turn out and millions of pairs of devilish red eyes would surround him, each one accompanied by a Cheshire cat smile. They would start moving in circles, spinning faster and faster until he was surrounded by blurs, forcing him backward towards the flames where he would always stumble and fall before the whole place ignited and the building collapsed on top of him, screams of an unknown man filling the air around him. It just didn't make sense to him. Then again, not much did anymore.
"What are they doing now?" The agent in the control room spun around and looked up at his boss. Nick Fury was a tall man with a serious look on his face at all times, a black eye patch covering one of his eyes. Just by that you could tell that this was a man who wouldn't take no for an answer.
The agent turned back to the screen. "Nothing much, sir. Most of them are still contained in Arkham. Wayne, Kyle, and Blake aren't doing much either. I think that Bane fella must've worn them out a bit. As for agents Dent and Dawes, they're off somewhere in Iran completing their explosives training."
Nick nodded. "I see. Keep watching, agent."
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He couldn't keep watching them. For super villains/heroes, they sure were boring. The agent took a deep breath. "Sir, I really don't think they're going to do anything. They actually pretty boring."
Nick smirked. "Well then. I guess we'll just have to make their lives a little more exciting, won't we?" The young agent's eyes lit up. Could he possibly get away from this computer? Nick walked over to the door. "Round up some other good field agents, Mr. Clark, and bring these people to me. The Haminitati aren't going to fight themselves, now are they?" On that note, he walked out of the door, leaving an overexcited new field agent frantically searching through the database to find the best agents in the organization to help him with this prison break.
Well... whaddaya think? Should I post more? Lemme know please!
-jumpingjaxx13