"Dr. Crane, I assume you know why I called this meeting?"
Dr. Crane? One foot in the door and already, I've been stripped of the title, Professor; that can't be a good sign.
Dean Richards, a stocky sixty-two year old man with thinning hair and a penchant for wearing the same grey suit every single day, looked up at him, awaiting Jonathan's response.
"Dean Richards, I can assure you that what happened today was a terrible misunderstanding. I've already left a message with Ms. Andrews expressing my deepest regrets. It's the best I can do until I see her face-to-face."
"This is not the first misunderstanding you've had, Dr. Crane. It is however, the most serious. Ms. Andrews doesn't seem to desire an apology. In fact, I've been fielding phone calls from her attorney all afternoon."
Jonathan's jaw dropped. He had heard her tell her fellow students, moments before they had left the room, that she was fine. She said it was only a scratch. She lied.
"Now you've left a message, admitting your guilt. This it too much Dr. Crane; I think it would be best for this university if you resigned immediately."
"Dean Richards, don't you think that's a bit premature?"
"Resign or I'll be forced to fire you," he reiterated.
"You can't fire me. I've done nothing wrong," Jonathan said.
"You brought a gun into the classroom! Worse yet, you fired that gun and injured a student."
"I was proving a point; humans and animals are instinctively frightened by loud noises. The gun was merely a visual. It wasn't supposed to go off."
"But it did go off Dr. Crane. You're lucky a vase was the only thing you destroyed. Nevertheless, you know a piece of that vase stuck Ms. Andrews and her lawyer told me she needed fourteen stitches to close the wound. She almost lost her eye, Dr. Crane."
"As I said before, it was an accident. My lesson plans have always been unorthodox; they are not based on consensus. I thought that's why you hired me?"
"I partly have myself to blame for all of this," Dean Richards continued, shaking his head in disappointment. "I hired you because I thought you were the breath of fresh air this university needed and I was wrong. The other Professors have condemned your methods as borderline dangerous, but I dismissed it until now. You've violated a written law. The student handbook specifically states that firearms are not allowed…"
"That's what the student handbook states," Jonathan interrupted. "No where is it expressed in any of my employee paperwork that a Professor is not allowed to bring a registered firearm into the classroom under a controlled setting."
"Some things are simply assumed, Dr. Crane."
"But you can't fire me based on assumptions, Dean Richards. Perhaps I'm the one who should be calling my attorney? This is a wrongful termination as far as I'm concerned."
"Jonathan, you are a brilliant young man. I'd hate to see your belligerence ruin your career before it has a chance to begin. Don't be so quick to burn bridges and lose references. I see you doing great things, but it won't be at this university," and with that, the Dean stood and pointed Jonathan in the direction of the door. "You may collect your things and security will escort you out of the building, Dr. Crane."
Jonathan had been made a fool of. He'd been forced to walk past rows of his former students and listen to their snickers and snide remarks. All the while, two lumbering security guards stood on either side of him, watching him with open apprehension as if he were a mental patient about to snap at any moment. He had seen Dean Richards one last time before he left Gotham University, when he had walked into the man's office and deposited his letter of resignation on his desk. The Dean had been in a congenial mood, offering Jonathan his hand, which he reluctantly accepted.
The humiliation was unforgivable and finally, it was enough. He would take no more. That same evening, he returned home to find a small box on his doorstep. Inside rested a bright blue flower he'd never seen before and a note.
There is nothing to fear, but fear itself.
You know what you have to do.
Yes, he knew exactly what needed to be done, and with this final ingredient and the cryptic note as encouragement, he had perfected his fear toxin, complying with the mysterious written orders as they came to him and anxiously awaiting the day when he would meet the person, or persons behind them. With the toxin in its final stages, Jonathan now wielded a power far greater than he ever could have imagined; the power to unleash the fears hidden deep within the human psyche – the power to destroy minds.
Now, all he needed were some reliable test subjects and he knew exactly where to look. Two individuals topped his list, but they would all be dealt with in time; all of them. His former colleagues, who had never shown him an ounce of respect once they saw he was half their age; his students, who laughed at him behind his back because of his slender build and frail stature, and the occasional female student, who would stay after class to flirt with him subtly, and sometimes not so subtly, simply because they drove him to distraction.
Jonathan already knew the habits of his prey and knew precisely when to strike. Dean Richards was always the last one to leave the building and this night was no different. One might feel sorry for the man, having to put in such long hours, day in, day out, but everyone knew he officially stopped working at 5:00. The rest of the day was spent playing Solitaire on his computer and staring out the window until the last car pulled away. Everyone knew his ways; no one ever said a word about it. Tonight, the Dean's act of false dedication worked in Jonathan's favor.
He had been careful to stay in the shadows, remaining unseen as the cars left one by one. Dean Richards emerged from the building two minutes after the parking lot emptied and he whistled cheerfully as he walked to his car. The Dean nearly jumped a foot when Jonathan tapped him on the shoulder unexpectedly.
"My apologies; I didn't mean to frighten you," Jonathan said.
"Dr. Crane, what are you doing here?"
"I wanted to mend some fences, to paraphrase our previous conversation."
"And you felt the need to do this, in the parking lot, at 9:00 p.m.?"
"Some things simply cannot wait until morning. Please, forgive the intrusion. I wanted to tell you that you were right. Since leaving Gotham University, I have been making the most of my talents and I have you to thank for that."
"Glad to hear it, have a nice evening, Dr. Crane," Dean Richards said, obviously feeling uncomfortable as he opened the car door.
"There is one more thing," Jonathan said, leaning over the driver's side door. He fumbled through his coat pocket for just a moment before he found the small aerosol canister he'd been searching for.
"What's that?" the Dean asked expectantly, blinking and rubbing his eyes when Jonathan sprayed the toxin in his face and shut the door.
Immediately, the man went into convulsions as he screamed and clawed at the glass. Jonathan could only imagine what the older man must be seeing; perhaps being shut inside the dark car left him feeling entombed, buried alive…now that was interesting.
But the evenings festivities were short lived. The Dean clutched his chest and his body stiffened like a board. A feeble old man with a feeble old heart, he succumbed to the effects of the toxin all too quickly.
"Drive carefully, Dean Richards," Jonathan said before he disappeared into the darkness from where he'd come.
Revenge was his but he felt vaguely unfulfilled. He had wanted to shoot the Dean so very badly, shoot him with the same gun that had gotten his tenure revoked; it would have been appropriate, but incriminating, unfortunately. All things being equal, the deed was done. He took comfort in that.
You know what you have to do…
Jonathan looked at his watch. It was only 9:15. Plenty of time to pay his litigious former student, Abby Andrews a visit; she was a vivacious young woman, perhaps her reaction to the toxin would prove more intriguing? It might be wise to stop by his home and pick up a less concentrated dose before he dropped by. In its less concentrated form, the toxin was a powerful hallucinogen and after the feeling of emptiness that surrounded Dean Richard's death, Jonathan was in the mood to play.
If things went well, there was a chance he'd be in bed by 11:00. A good night's sleep is essential, especially when one has a job interview the next morning. He would be interviewing for the job of Director at Arkham Asylum, but something told him it was just a formality. The mysterious notes he'd been receiving told him that the job was his for the taking and he never disobeyed those annotations.
His former student and employer murdered on the same night? Of course they would suspect him. He certainly had motive, but there would be no evidence. The toxin did not linger in the blood stream and by the time samples were taken, all traces of it would be gone.
Armed with that knowledge, he knocked on the front to her third story apartment, located in the Narrows where he knew she lived alone. So foolish for a girl like her to be walking these streets on her own; one never knew what kind of monsters could be lurking in the shadows.
He could feel her watching him through the peephole and he focused all his efforts on retaining a quiet, unassuming demeanor, never once betraying the eagerness in his heart.
In her hesitation, she opened the door just a crack, but it was all he needed. Jonathan pushed passed her and forced his way into the apartment
She seemed more flabbergasted than frightened, not realizing the depths of her peril until he'd covered her mouth with a piece of duct tape. Only then, did she begin to scream.
"Ms. Andrews," he whispered in her ear as he held her trembling form, "Would you like to see my mask?"
Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed my little take on Dr. Crane's firing from Gotham U. I've blended the original comics along with the movie itself. I hope it works.
Thanks in advance to all who take the time to read and/or review!