I'm getting really into the Crane/Scarecrow fandom so I decided to make a story centered around him. :)
Disclaimer: I do not own Batman Begins or any relating characters
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"Good afternoon, Miss Baker. And a happy eighteenth birthday to you."
"Thank you very much, Alfred. Could you show me where Bruce is?" asked Layla, stepping inside of Wayne Penthouse and gazing around with awe. Her prominent red hair was pulled into a tight pony tail, as the cold December air whipped against the back of her neck. It had been nearly three months since she had ventured off to her freshman year at Stanford University - in sunny California, respectably - where she was studying for a degree in psychology.
"Master Wayne should be in his bedroom, Miss Baker. Would you like me to show you?"
Layla gave a brief laugh. "It's only been three months, Alfred. I remember fine."
"Very well," said Alfred with a smile, disappearing into the kitchen. Layla went over to the elevator that was already so familiar to her, pressed the "2" button, and made her way to the second floor. Straight through the first door was Bruce Wayne's bedroom. Once inside, Layla noticed Bruce laying in his bed, sleeping soundly. She came over to him slowly and shook him awake.
"Bruce, wake up. It's Layla." She grinned when his eyes fluttered open, and he smiled. "You do know what day it is, don't you?" she asked.
Bruce gave a yawn, stretched, and slowly sat up in bed. "December tenth?"
"My birthday," said Layla with a pout. She said the word "birthday" as if it was the most important day of the entire year.
Bruce chuckled. "I know, Layla," he said, standing up to hug her around the waist. "Alfred and I have missed you the last few months. It's great to see you. How's the fancy college lifestyle treating you?" he questioned.
"It's fine." She paused, looking thoughtful. "I miss it here, though."
"Of course," said Bruce. "You've come a long way since your pick-pocketing days," he remarked.
Almost a year ago, Bruce had come across Layla in the Narrows, pick-pocketing wealthy strangers. He had confronted her, but poor Layla, seventeen at the time, had begun to cry and confide in Bruce - she told him of her parents, who had abandoned her nearly four months ago, leaving her to rot on the cruel streets of Gotham City. Once she'd finished crying, Bruce had developed a soft spot for her situation, and had invited her to his Pent House. Soon after that, he'd placed her in one of the female orphanages Wayne Enterprises funded - but she frequently came around the Penthouse, usually on weekends, and soon enough, Bruce had formed a fatherly bond with the girl. Since then, he'd paid for nearly everything Layla needed - food, clothing, and the other necessities - and just a short few months ago, her entire college tuition.
Layla nodded and grinned, revealing her teeth. She reached to the back of her head and undid her pony tail, and her long, almost waist-length hair spilled over her back. "Only because of you. If you hadn't taken care of me, I'd probably be in jail right now, or worse," she said thankfully.
"I... wouldn't say that," said Bruce hesitantly. They both knew it was true, Layla would have ended up in jail, probably - but he didn't want to ruminate on such a dark topic on her special day. "So you're eighteen now, Layla. Big day. What're your plans? Sneak off to the basement when I'm not looking, take a spin in the convertible?" Both of them laughed at the suggestion, because only six months ago, Layla had done just that. When Bruce had found out, he hadn't exactly yelled at her, but since then, the entrance to the basement had been kept pretty much bolted shut.
"If I have your permission this time." Layla reached into her back pocket, retrieving her license. "I am a legal driver now."
"We'll talk," said Bruce, patting her on the back. "Let's go downstairs. Alfred prepared a big breakfast for your birthday." He led Layla to the elevator, and they took it down to the dining room, where an impressive breakfast waited - eggs, pancakes, bacon, hash browns, fresh fruit, home-squeezed orange juice, and hot coffee - was spread across the table.
Layla glanced into the kitchen, where Alfred was preparing parfait cups, which she assumed were also for her. "Alfred, this was totally unncessary," she said with a wide grin.
"It was my pleasure, Miss Baker," said Alfred, returning her grin, "you know Master Wayne and I consider you family around here."
Like Alfred had said, Layla was already very aware of the daughterly way Bruce and him viewed her - but still she turned to Bruce, who nodded in agreement.
"Well all right then," she said eagerly, "let's dig in."
XXX
An hour later, when both Bruce and Layla's stomachs were filled with Alfred's deliciously-prepared breakfast, Layla stood up and announced, "I have to get going. I have some business in the city to take care of."
"Business?" asked Bruce curiously. "You've only been studying psychology for three months."
"I know, but when my psychology professor found out I had direct connections with Bruce Wayne... well, he was very quick to find me an internship in the city," explained Layla. "I took it for the experience, of course, but it also means I'll be studying here in the city for the next three months. I'm not going back to California until March."
"What about your courses?" piped in Alfred, who was noticeably pleased that they would be enjoying Layla's company for the following few months.
"I'll be taking them online. It's a great opportunity."
"Sounds like it," said Bruce, coming toward Layla to hug her goodbye. "Good luck kid, it's good to have you home."
XXX
The Narrows, as far as Layla was concerned, were the darkest and scummiest district of Gotham - she should know, she'd spent four months living on its streets, until Bruce had found her. However, although they had improved since the Batman appeared as Gotham's nobel vigilante, Layla still had the right mind to avoid them, until today. Today, the Narrows were the only place she was going to find the man she was looking for.
Layla pulled up to the nearest shabby restaurant in her cherry-colored Mustang, the car she'd dreamt of having for the last two years - and a birthday present from Bruce. Instead of entering the restaurant right away, however, she ducked into the closest alley way, carrying a small trunk with her. She took out a tiny key, unlocked the trunk, and gazed into it - inside was a long red cloak, strictly customized, a pair of dingy-looking grey boots, a red shirt, and a small black mask, big enough to cover only her eyes and small amount of forehead. Layla changed into these garments quickly, disposed of the clothes she'd been wearing previously, and entered the small restaurant, looking as collected as possible.
In the far back of the restaurant sat Salvatore Maroni who - if Layla had been informed correctly - was the new "boss" of Gotham's biggest crime mob, since the previous head, Carmine Falcone, had completely lost his mind the year before and been admitted to Arkham Asylum, where he still resided.
As Layla came up to Maroni's table, where he sat sipping booze and gazing at her very interestingly as she approached, two guards in black coats stopped her roughly and searched her before allowing her to go further. She took a seat across from Maroni with a very serious expression.
"Who the hell are you?" he said immediately, scrutinizing Layla's outfit. "And what's with the fairy tale get-up?" He paused. "I'm pretty sure that cape isn't going to protect you from any bullets, Miss Baker."
Layla's eyes grew wide. She was shocked - how did Maroni already know her identity? - but still, she kept herself composed, and she answered, "Call me Red."
"All right, Miss Baker," replied Maroni with a smirk, leaning forward slightly. "What can I do for you?"
"Do you mind me asking how you figured out my identity, Mister Maroni?" said Layla evenly.
"We've talked before, Red. Just last year you were a small-time thief and drug dealer. Made page twelve in the Gotham Times, or did you forget?" Maroni smiled, while Layla scowled. "Great for you that you were never caught, but I don't make deals with anyone without getting a little dirt on them."
"Like Falcone," commented Layla. She'd done her research - on Falcone, Maroni, and especially Johnathan Crane, the man she was specifically looking for. She was so personally interested in Crane, aside from needing his assistance. She had only been studying psychology officially for about three months, but she suspected that Crane had a case of Dissociative Identity Disorder, by the looks of his masked alias.
"Exactly. Now what can I do for you, Miss Baker?"
"Red," corrected Layla coolly. "And I need to know the whereabouts of a certain Johnathan Crane, Mr. Maroni."
"We don't do deals with that asshole anymore, not since what happened to Falcone-"
"I'm not saying you have to have anything to do with Mr. Crane, I just need to know where he is," interrupted Layla. "We've done business before, Mr. Maroni, you know I'm trustworthy."
"What makes you think I know where Crane is?"
Layla looked him dead in the eyes. "Because mob activity in Gotham has been steadily rising again, Mister Maroni, which means you have connections. Connections I don't have."
Maroni hesitated for a moment, thinking over the situation. "Get me drugs from Crane," he replied simply.
"What?"
"Drugs. From Crane," said Maroni, nodding his head. "Personally, I don't like the guy - complete whack-job, running around in a fucking Scarecrow mask - but, the fear toxin he made could be useful for our operation." He looked straight at Layla, who was gazing back, listening intently. "I'll tell you where he is, but I want the drugs in return, or we'll have a problem."
Layla considered it. Although she'd never met Crane, she didn't exactly take him for the generous type - not the type to give his drugs out without pay, anyway. But if this was her only option, she was going to take it.
"I'll talk to Crane about it," she agreed. "Where is he?"
Maroni grinned maliciously, took out a small card from his back pocket, and scribbled down an address. Before handing it over to Layla though, he answered, "He's in the only place safe enough for him to show his face nowadays - the depths of the Narrows. Rumor has it he's been tweaking his fear toxin." He slid the card across the table to Layla, who pocketed it.
"Thank you, Mr. Maroni," she said calmly, standing up and turning to exit.
Before she could leave, however, she heard Maroni call from behind her mockingly, "Don't let him scare you, Little Red Riding Hood."
XXX
Well, what do you think? I'd really love reviews, and any ideas would be appreciated as well. :)
