Elle was playing her music loud again.

It really was his fault. He'd given her his personal laptop in an effort to give her a distraction. He'd created a personal user profile for her, which had made her beam, though it had been for the express purpose of keeping her out of his files. She would surf the web, read stories, download books and music and generally stay out of his way. Unless she was doing this.

He also wondered what kinds of fun little viruses she was downloading into his computer with all her pirated material.

Stripping off his latex gloves he left his chemicals on the desk and stormed into the make-shift kitchen with a scowl. Elle was laying across the steel table on her stomach, feet kicking idly above her. A few of his hired thugs (well not so much hired as fearfully loyal) lounged around listening along with her. The song was some sort of heavy rap thing that made his head hurt.

Come with your attitude, cocksucka fuck yo life.
I'll tie you to a chair and make you watch me fuck your wife!

The thugs cheered and laughed together until Crane reached over and hit the space bar to pause the song before he was forced to listen to anymore. The thugs, suddenly realizing he was in the room, didn't complain, but got suddenly quiet. Elle looked up, a bit startled, but was quick to smile again.

"Howdy, Doctor." she beamed. "The boys and I were just listening to some music."

"Yes," he let his gaze slide around the room, mildly amused that each thug seemed to draw away or avert his eyes, "I could hear it."

Elle didn't seem to catch on, and suddenly pushed herself up into a sitting position with an excited cry. Crane drew back a little, brows raising as she clapped once. "Oh! I forgot. I found your theme music."

"My what?" he sounded tired, even to himself, and ran his fingers through his hair. The girl grinned brightly and nodded.

"Your theme music, you know..."

"No, Elle, I don't." He massaged his temple and sank into the chair beside the door. It was doubtful he would be able to get back to his work tonight. "Listen, I don't have the time or patience for this so-"

"Wait, wait, wait!" Elle held up the quiet-finger, fiddled with the laptop, then hit the space bar watching for his reaction.

A tisket, a tasket,

The Scarecrow's out his casket,

Turn out the lights and lock the doors,

Praying that he passes.

As the eerie lullaby played through, Crane's brow slowly began to rise. She waited expectantly as the heavy bass-beats of rock-rap swelled over the chorus, not discouraged when he didn't speak.

"It's the song I sang to Max, remember? He really seemed to freak when he heard it, and it's just so perfect. Even the boys think so."

Crane glanced over at the "boys" in question, but none seemed eager to admit to what she was saying. After a moment he sighed and reached over to close the laptop with a deft smack. Elle frowned, crossing her arms.

"He liked it, you big grump. I don't see why you can't just admit that you do too."

"Tell you that, did he?" he asked, but before she could reply a gunshot went off far in the compound.

The room exploded into movement; the thugs standing and cocking their own firearms while Crane shot from his chair and into the hall. He heard Elle scrambling after him, but paid her little mind. This was no time for distractions.

Crane made it into his study, snatched up the thin belt with a small cache of his toxin in liquid form, and strapped on the wrist-mounted vaporizer that connected to it. As Elle stumbled into the room, looking doe-eyed and frightened at the sound of more gunshots, he slid on his suit jacket and hurriedly buttoned it up, careful to thread the thin tube that connected his toxin to the dispenser through his sleeve. This was so he could expel many doses without having to reload, and with a little smirk, he hit the switch that fed in the consentrated toxin. After that, he grabbed his mask, resting neatly on the table, and switched on the tiny air filter, then pulled it over his head.

Elle yelped, covering her ears as the gunshots sounded closer. At times he almost forgot how fragile she really was, despite her crimes. She might be mouthy and obnoxious at times, but murder had sent her into catatonia for nearly two years and apparently gunshots made her mumble frantically to herself and shake her head. She sounded like one of the crazed homeless that wandered the Narrows, conversing with inanimate objects.

Sighing irritably, Crane grabbed her upper arm and drug her into the hall just as the lights went out. Elle yelped, but he squeezed her arm for silence.

"Stop crying." he snapped, peering into the darkness and moving them slowly forward. They were being attacked, it seemed. Only a few people had the power or stupidity to do such a thing, even fewer had the information to pull it off. Who in this city knew where he lived? And who of those fools was ballsy enough to cross him?

Guess now we really have to move, huh Jonny?

He didn't dignify that with an answer and continued, instead, to drag Elle through the darkness. A light flashed down the hall as a gun was fired there and Elle threw herself against his side, clamping a hand over her mouth by the muffled sound she made. She was trembling, especially as he dislodged himself from her grip and pressed back against the wall. Somewhere far off, people were shouting, he heard the dull smacking sound of blows being exchanged then stilled as the lights flickered back on.

That was fast.

The two men in the hall both turned when they noticed him, but he'd already raised his arm, expelling a cloud of white into their faces. Clinging to him once again, Elle burried her face into his jacket and held her breath as they moved forward. One of those men had been in his employ, but it hardly seemed to matter.

He ain't now. Scarecrow chuckled. Crane rolled his eyes and hurried down the next hall.

If you're going to speak at all, please refrain from using that atrocious grammar. The voice laughed, but didn't reply further.

Elle had started sniffling again, clutching at the back of his jacket like a life-preserver, and had yet to take a breath. At this rate she would pass out, which in turn would slow him down, so he reached back and took a fistful of her hair, dragging her around to search her eyes. The girl slapped both hands down over her mouth, eyes wide.

"If you don't calm down, I'll shoot you myself," he enunciated each word to be sure she got it all, "Do you understand?" Brow furrowing, she gave a frantic nod and he motioned toward the door at the end of the hall. "We need to get to the garage."

She finally let her hands slide away from her face and took a shaky breath. He gave her a moment to settle and do as she was instructed, then took her upper arm and once again they were running. Down the hall, through the door and around a corner. He'd never noticed how needlessly large this place was before.

What had he been thinking?

When they got to the garage, Crane nearly tripped over Elle back-peddling away from the bullets that whizzed passed him. Two men waited inside, opening fire without question. He assumed they weren't his, and if they were God help them because he wa going to tear them apart. The girl shrieked as he shoved her toward one of the vans and dove behind it himself. The gunmen followed as fast as they could. The first rounded the front of the van and was greeted by a thick cloud of toxin. As he hacked and fell to his knees, Crane snatched away his gun. Usually his distaste for such weapons would have made him toss it away, but at the moment, that didn't seem particularly rational.

Behind him Elle shrieked again, and he turned in time to see her grab the extended arm of the other gunman and slam it down against her knee. He fired off a round that hit the wall near Crane, and she repeated the motion, but this time he heard the distinct sound of bone snapping and the gun skidded off under the van. While the man behind him began to scream about flies in his brain, Crane stepped toward his partner and grabbed the front of his shirt.

"Who sent you?" he demanded in the distorted voice his mask produced. The guy clenched his jaw and simply glarred. He wanted to play the big tough thug, though Crane noted the slight tremor in his limbs. Very well then. Hand going to the switch on his belt, he narrowed his eyes. "Cover your mouth."

The gunman frowned in confusion, but Elle understood who the comment was directed at and did as instructed with both hands. Crane filled the air with the less potent toxin and waited for the man's eyes to widen as he choked on the smoke.

"Answer me." he growled in a voice so menacing it had Elle stepping back. The guy cried out, trying to pull from Crane's grip and shaking his head frantically.

"Warren!" he cried. For a moment, he was still, but then, clenching his jaw, Crane dosed the gunman again and let him crumple onto the concrete. He stood slowly the adjust his rumpled suit, digesting this news.

I think we made him mad.

You made him angry, I did nothing.

It's all the same to him, Jonny-boy. Now he's out to get us both.

"Boss?!" one of his men yelled, stumbling into the garage with a raised gun. Crane didn't reply, letting the man find him on his own. Elle was still covering her mouth and looking slightly paler than normal. Upon seeing the thug though, the tension in her shoulders eased slightly.

"Boss, you alright?"

"With no help of yours." he replied gazing down at the writhing thug at his feet.

The guy took in that Crane was holding a gun at his side and the two frantic shooters, then swallowed.

"They tried to throw us off, make it seem like an operation, but these guys was clumsy. Not too good with their weapons either. Jake and Todd are ganked, but the rest of the boys are checking for anymore guys just in case."

Crane didn't even pretend to know who those names belonged to. He wasn't in the habit of getting to know his men, beyond their dependabilty and skill. Most were bumbling idiots, like this gift to society standing in front of him, and he had little patience for street trash. After a moment, the guy laughed.

"They wasn't even organized, Boss. Only had 5 or 6 men and we ganked 'em all in what, two minutes?"

Crane answered by calmly raising his gun and putting a bullet into the skulls of both gunmen on the ground, then with a slow exhale, he handed the gun to the his thug. As the guy stuttered in shock, he pulled off his mask and snapped at the frozen Elle to follow him.

"Pack it up." he said to the gaping thug, in his normal detatched tone, "Everything. We're moving tonight."

"Where we goin'?" the guy asked obediently, hurridly stuffing the gun into his waistband as if to keep it away from his boss. Ignoring this, Crane pinched the bridge of his nose, which seemed to put the guy even further on edge, and sighed. Had Warren really been so foolish as to believe he'd be that easy to get rid of? Part of him was insulted.

"Send someone out to scout a new place in the Narrows. Something simple, preferably with running water and electricity."

Nodding, the thug hot-footed it back into the compound as Crane leaned back against the van. Elle was fidgeting beside him, eyeing the two dead men on the floor and the growing puddles of greyish red around them, but he paid her little attention. His thoughts were on Edward Warren and the ways he was going to make him suffer. The idiot had obviously taken their earlier exchange as a challenge, insecure rat that he was, and decided to retaliate. However, being such a miserly little creature, he'd obviously hired out the cheapest hitmen he could find. Any criminal in Gotham could tell you, that in such matters, you always got what you paid for.

Gunna make the piggy squeal. Scarecrow hissed angrily, Sizzle strips of bacon and eat out his insides.

That's just disgusting. Crane chided. Though he had to admit, his other half was moving in the right direction.

Moving right along, beacuse I'm in no mood to play Mosey Around the Plot with this story. I want to get to the fun parts already...and the fun people...-hint- ;D

ANYWHODIZZLES, what did you think of Crane, all with the coldness? I hate it when he's protrayed as a wimp, and even in the movie he was kinda a girly-man, what with the running every time there was danger. I'm not going with that.

I'm gunna turn more toward cold, methodical Year One Crane, tweeked enough that he really would be dangerous and scary to the citizens of Gotham.

Also I just like killing people and being generally violent and cruel in my stories...I'm twisted like that. ^_^