Crane found it was relatively easy to sneak into his old school's gym – on Halloween, people thought that he was merely a member of staff in a Scarecrow costume. He felt the same anxiety and panic at being in those horrible, familiar surroundings, where he had suffered so much and endured so much torment. But it would all be different this time, he reassured himself, as he entered the gym.
It was bizarre to see himself from outside himself. It was even more bizarre to see himself as a young man again, not that he had changed much physically since then. He was still a skinny, lanky, awkward outsider with glasses, glasses which were, at the moment, being smashed into his face as he was held by a jock underneath a basketball hoop, where Chase Foster had just shot a ball. "He shoots – he scores!" chuckled Foster, as the ball collided hard with teenage Crane's face, making him sob in pain. "But looks like I didn't smash the lenses – guess I'll have to try again!" Foster laughed, as his fellow athlete tossed the ball back at him.
"You're going to let him go at once," snapped adult Crane, striding over to them.
Foster looked at him, and snorted. "Who's gonna make us, pal? You? I think I can probably take you in a fight."
"If you think so, try it," replied adult Crane, folding his arms across his chest.
Foster snorted again, gesturing to his friend to flank him as he approached adult Crane. "You asked for it, old timer," he said, rolling up his sleeves.
"Yes, you most certainly did," agreed adult Crane. He shot out both his hands suddenly, puncturing both of their necks with the needles on the ends of his gloves and injecting them with his fear toxin.
"Ow! What the…" began Foster, but then his eyes began to cloud over in hysterical terror of something only he could see. "No! No! Oh my God, get 'em off me! I can't stand bats!"
"How very interesting – you're going to be living in the wrong town in a few years," said adult Crane calmly. Foster's friend had run screaming from the room, and adult Crane suddenly grabbed Foster around the collar, who was still swatting away imaginary bats.
"Now you listen to me," hissed adult Crane. "You will never bully this young man, or anyone else, ever again. Or the bats will return, Mr. Foster. Every night, as you lie in the darkness in bed, you'll hear their leathery wings flapping against the window, their squeaks to get inside your room and claw your flesh. You'll never be safe from them unless you leave him alone. Do we understand each other?"
Foster nodded desperately, and adult Crane released him. Foster fled from the room, gazing back at adult Crane in terror. Adult Crane went over to his younger self, who was cradling his bleeding nose and broken glasses.
"Are you all right?" asked adult Crane gently.
Teenage Crane nodded. "Thank you," he whispered. "I thought…they'd never stop picking on me."
"Well, they have, my boy," said adult Crane. "And they won't do it again, I promise you. It's over now."
Teenage Crane nodded again, sniffing. "I just don't understand…why they do it," he whispered. "I…I don't want to be different, I just want to fit in, and I haven't done anything to hurt them. Why do they want to hurt me?"
"Because people are naturally horrible, monstrous brutes," replied adult Crane. "They see uniqueness as defectiveness. They see a spark of individuality, and they try to stamp it into conformity. They fear those who are different, so they try to hurt them because they're afraid of them. It's just their nature."
"I…I wish I could conform," whispered teenage Crane. "I don't want to be unique or individual. Not if it comes with this much pain."
"Oh, my boy," murmured adult Crane. "Someday you'll be someone very extraordinary, surrounded by people who love you just the way you are. And it'll be worth all the pain you went through, trust me."
"Why should I?" asked teenage Crane. "I don't even know who you are. I like your costume, though."
"Thank you," said adult Crane. "You clearly have excellent taste. You can call me the Scarecrow. Just think of me as your guardian angel, of sorts. If someone tries to bully you in the future, just tell them the Scarecrow is going to get them. When Mr. Foster and his friend tell the rest of the school what happened with me, I daresay they'll be too scared to lift a finger toward you. Your days of being bullied are at an end."
"What did you do to them?" asked teenage Crane.
"I gave them a taste of their own medicine," replied adult Crane, holding up his glove. "I injected them with a toxin I've invented, that makes people hallucinate their deepest fears."
"What a wonderful idea," said teenage Crane. "Then everyone would know how I feel every day."
"Yes, that's the idea," agreed adult Crane. "But you can learn to overcome those fears, my boy. I promise you, by the time you're my age…you won't be afraid of anything."
"Is that even possible?" asked teenage Crane. "To not be afraid of anything?"
"Well, I hope so," said adult Crane. "Otherwise this will all be for nothing."
"What will all be for nothing?" asked teenage Crane.
"Nothing," said adult Crane hastily. "Just trust me, my boy. You have a very bright future ahead of you. You'll be loved unconditionally by so many people. It may not seem like it now, but…there's nothing to fear but fear itself."
"Paraphrasing Franklin Delano Roosevelt doesn't make you profound, you know," said teenage Crane.
"No, I suppose not," agreed adult Crane. "And now I remember why you got beaten up all the time," he muttered under his breath as he stood up. "Anyway, I must be going. I shall see you in the future," he said, smiling to himself as he headed off.
He returned to the field outside the school, where Tetch still stood, looking at his watch. "Yes, precisely on schedule," he said, nodding. "Now head back to the future and see what a mess you've made of things."
"What mess could I have possibly made of things, besides sparing myself a few horrible years of being bullied?" demanded Crane.
"You'll find out," said Tetch, nodding to his time machine. "I'll see you back here to fix things in a few seconds of my time."
"You're not coming with me?" asked Crane.
"Why, would you like to hear me gloat?" asked Tetch.
"I would like to prove to you that you're wrong," retorted Crane.
"But I'm not wrong," said Tetch. "You come to me to explain what happened in this altered future upon your return to the regular future. That's why I'm here now. But I suppose I can come with you and act as the exposition, patiently explaining things to you when you're baffled by what you've done and the outcomes your meddling has resulted in."
"You know, you're starting to sound like Edward Nygma," snapped Crane.
"I'll ignore that, Jonathan, since you're about to have quite an unpleasant shock," said Tetch. "But don't forget that if you anger me, I invented this technology and can sabotage it at any time, leaving you trapped in this hell of a future for yourself."
"Honestly, Jervis, it can't be that bad," said Crane, fiddling the dials on his time machine to return to the time in which he had left.
"You're about to find out," said Tetch, sighing as he activated his own.
