Chapter 2
"Well? Can you unlock it?"
"Can I unlock it? Don't insult me with your skepticism. Of course, I can!" Edward snapped, pulling out his rugged laptop case and popping it open. A couple of wire needed to be reattached, but it didn't hinder him much as he connected it to the door and effectively killed the lockdown the place had been under for the past few hours.
"I'm going through security now to see if something's on the other side." He tells them and hummed when he noticed some people on the corridors. "Three goons with burlaps."
"Great, more whack job followers. Can't Scarecrow just stop recruiting already? It's not like he's really using them for anything other than to experiment on them." The detective said as he pulls out his gun. The other officer, Montoya, taps his shoulders and gestures for him to back away politely and to hang in the back behind the cruisers.
When his eyes followed the direction she pointed at, he can see Commissioner Gordon leading the men into formations.
Edward rolls his eyes but does as asked, zipping everything in perfect timing with no mess left behind and ran back to the safety of the cruisers.
"Good job, Eddie. I don't even know why they didn't call you immediately, this is a high-level case." Gordon comments once he sidled next to him. He accepts the bulletproof vest and gas mask from him, equipping it in anticipation of the fight.
"Well, you know how it is in the station." He said, abhorrence decorating his voice. Gordon couldn't help but sigh as he heard it. It wasn't any fault of the commissioner so much as his extreme detachment for everyone but a certain few that caused such a lack of communication.
He sat down behind the cruiser, still looking through the cameras as he sent locations to the man inside the base, and would have kept at it, would have continued looking through the grainy feed of the less than stellar cameras, if it were not for one surprise.
A canister rolled out from underneath one of the cruisers.
As it settled in place, mustard-colored smoke starts to leak out of it, a bit dense and somewhat opaque.
Edward didn't need a second warning to get away from the canister before the explosion occurred.
More shouting could be heard, but the sharp ringing in his ears stopped him from concentrating. What shocked him into action were firm hands holding onto his shoulders as he was pulled off the floor and forced to move as men in blues, blacks, and greys start running the other direction, aiming pistols and handguns while shooting.
"Get him out of here!"
"Yes sir!" He was confused until he was situated on a bike and was now driven away from the arms race. All Edward could do was watch as officers fell down, shots echoed in the air, and a shadow covering their previous hiding spot.
"Fuck, fuck! Scarecrow's got us again!" The man growls under his breath as he speeds, to escape the rural setting of the dense forest and roughly lands them on the highway that was found a ledge below. Edward all but grabbed the officer's back, fearing for his life.
Back in the station, he was put back in his office and waited as the surviving officers returned with no uplifting news.
The Scarecrow got away.
And they lost three men, a woman, and Commissioner Gordon was also in the hospital.
The GCPD had been in a rut for the past month when the city's vigilante had all but disappeared. No matter how much Edward tried to search for the reason as to why, he couldn't find any. Not through city surveillance, or the criminal statements.
Gotham's caped crusader simply went after the Joker one night …
And vanished.
It had been eating Edward alive not being able to find the man. Not when the only failure he ever faced during his job was finding the dispatcher – the man he owed his life to.
While what the Scarecrow had done this night was not good, it all fell on the GCPD's field agents, not on him. He had done his job and had done it exponentially.
Three hours of going through footages and dissecting every frame possible, Edward left the station to go and hide behind his apartment door, to block out the city for the night and go rest his weary head.
But he couldn't sleep. His Insomnia had invaded him once more, and he found himself getting off the bed as he contemplated what manners he could use the driving forces of his mind to work on.
He could go back to the Dispatcher case …
But there haven't been any advances in that problem for quite some time. Especially after the case had been deemed closed.
What of the Batman? Commissioner Gordon's friend? Search for him, like he had been doing for weeks with no resting intervals.
He couldn't, not when he still felt jittery over what had happened in the evening. The memory of a canister, rolling in front of him in such an innocent little spiel still looped in his mind. The gas, as it surrounded them, the rising fear despite the mask being worn and approved by the safety regulations.
What if-
He finally decided on what to do. Edward had gotten out of his room and reached for his coat. His dark green coat to be exact, only worn when he was out of duty. He didn't dare to leave the apartment without a hat, a news boy's hat, an ironic choice for him but he didn't care much as it does a substantial job of covering his red hair and gathering it up in one place.
Walking down the streets at night did not scare him, not when he had faced something more terrifying a few hours ago, and not with the 23 years of experience he had gained of simply living on the streets of Gotham.
It was a cesspool, and depending on your birth, your money, and connections, this cesspool could be under your command.
He left the more dangerous streets to reach the pleasant roads of the upper-class areas. He spies the building with the cross and the snake from afar and directed himself.
He was surprised to find one magpie sitting on a lonely branch, crowing loudly. It caught his attention simply for the fact that crows shouldn't be staying up at night, as ridiculous as it sounds. The nocturnal animals are known for sleeping when the sun is down. Usually, with its pack of murder.
"Are you lonely, buddy?" He asked but felt silly even if the crow replied to him with its crooning voice. Shaking his head, he walks past the crow and into the hospital.
With ease, he charms the receptionist into giving him the room he seeks.
With patience, he found himself in Commissioner Gordon's room.
"Eddie?"
"Hello, Commissioner. How's the surgery?"
"They didn't give me any drugs to sleep it off, they were too afraid of losing me," Gordon says, huffing but then continued to tug at the IV line. "Now I'm just being pumped with pain meds, it's useless. I still remember the cuts."
"Oh, you'll get used to that after a while, don't worry." He said as he grabs a chair and sits down. "I'm astounded that you have not slept yet."
"I can't." He said plainly, as if the reason behind the answer was written on a sign and hung behind him. Edward gave him a pitying look.
"Fear Toxin?"
"Fear Toxin." He confirms. "When we finally catch that man, he'll face justice for what he'd done." Gordon says under his breath.
Was it bad that Edward didn't care? He didn't care for people who tend to be abusive or are corrupt. He knew all the bad eggs in the GCPD, but because his voice really doesn't carry out much unless it concerns the tech, he never says it out loud.
He was rather glad that two of the victims were in these categories.
Admitting it so to the man was not a good way to present himself in his most dire of times.
After an hour or so of talking the older man finally fell asleep, and Edward left the room, knowing that his shift tomorrow will be nothing but hell.
He walked past the same tree he had seen earlier and was intrigued by the presence of a new crow by the first one.
"Oh, you found a friend. That's nice of you." He says, and to his delight, the birds flew down and sat on his shoulders. "Hey, this is my favorite coat. Don't you dare mess it up." He warns the avian creatures-
Only to hear a chuckle from behind.
Edward completely twirls around, ready for a fight, only to be frozen in motion as his eyes lands on the owner of the voice.
He was a tall person, much taller than him. Lanky and gangly limbs awkwardly rested beside him, and a gaunt face with tired blue piercing eyes staring at him hiding behind spectacles. He can tell that the man usually groomed himself into a presentable look, but his current unkempt hair seemed to indicate that he'd been in an accident of sorts. Seeing as this was a hospital, it's more likely to have been the cause of his dishevelment.
"Those are my birds, I apologize."
"Your … birds?" He questioned as he carried one off his shoulders and passed it to the man.
He swore that he can hear the man whisper under his breath "One for sorrow."
"Apologies, I just found that they are good listeners." He said as he took the other one off, passing it back to the man. The Avian released a pleased crow as the man holds it, petting its head.
"Two for mirth."
"Are you … singing?" Edward suddenly blurts out. "Nursery rhymes?"
"So, what of it?" The man has suddenly become defensive, borrowing the bird deep into his chest. His stare, the blankness behind those glasses, rooted itself on him.
Edward blinked.
"Nothing. I'm surprised, is all. I'm more of a ... classic rock and fifties oldies guy myself." He amends, not ready to fight a guy who just got out of the hospital. "Interesting rhyme. The counting crow, right? From the wording, you're singing the original. Three for marriage? Four for Birth?"
"I … never seem to find myself with only three or four crows. They always seem to collect themselves in a large pack. Except for these two, they are lovebirds."
"Then their fledgling will be the marriage or birth crow, do not worry." Edward humors him. The man hummed, blankly staring at the two birds as they start falling asleep. Edward mused with the idea that this man might be considered family for the Avian creatures.
"It may be. It's interesting, usually, people are revolted by my rhymes. It comes with the job, unfortunately."
"Job?"
"I'm a psychologist." The man smiles then, his gaunt face stretching and showing lines, but not nearly enough. Only around his mouth, not the eyes. It spoke of solemnity, it spoke of a finite amount of days that went by without expressions or laughter.
Edward was entranced once more.
"I know a man who also enjoys classic rock, I know many in fact. They are not the best to associate with, I cannot say I enjoy their presence. So, please forgive me if I express less than pleasant thoughts of your chosen genre."
"To each their own, I say." Edward mused, usually it was the fifties songs that people were weirded out by, not the rock songs.
Finally, finally! The smile turned genuine.
"Jonathan Crane." He introduced himself.
Riddle: Anxiety is my grounds, laughter chases me away, and selfishness indulges me. What am I?
Answer: Fear.
Conclusion: I am not fearful. Laughter had escaped me long ago, and anxiety had done nothing but stop me in the past. Selfishness on the other hand …
AN: -
Not gonna lie, I imagine Watch Dogs whenever I write about someone hacking. Marcus Holloway pulling out a laptop and sitting on the curb pose. Aiden Peirce with his phone pulled out and gun by his side. Despite how ridiculous and unrealistic it is, that's how I imagine hacking is.
Anyways, how did the first meeting of our emotionally stunted lovebirds go?
(Yes, Jon was definitely there to finish what he started and maybe kill the commissioner, but something happened ...)