AN: Could take place early in the Arkham Asylum game, but prior knowledge of that is not required. (But go look it up. Asylum's version of Scarecrow is my profile picture. He has no shirt, which is some combination of awkward and mildly distracting. But the glove kinda negates anything, so...)
Jonathan Crane lay on his back on his cot, listening to his fellow inmates. Arkham was quiet tonight-though that was at least partially due to Edward being absent.
Thank god for small favours.
The lights flickered and died and he lifted his head. Could be Arkham's lousy budget coming into play...or time to get up.
Three...
Two...
One...
The lights came back on.
It was time.
He slithered off the bed and opened his cell with his homemade key. Downstairs he could hear a bit of commotion-namely, Bats shouting that the Joker was escaping. There was a thud, and one of the clown's typical comments, and the fuss died down.
He let Kitty out, acknowledged Harley's greeting (and wished that child knew the meaning of 'indoor voice'), and slipped her the cell key for later. Couldn't have too many crazies running around just yet, Bats would notice.
They had to jump a guard and break his neck-he shouldn't have been down here, it was his own stupidity that killed him-and then they slipped into the elevator shaft in IT.
The lair was just as he'd left it and it was a relief to get out of this ill-fitting uniform and into the familiar burlap again.
"Think this'll end in disaster?"
"Doesn't it always?" He eased his hand into the glove and twitched a finger. "We'll be out by three."
"Good...let me do that, you'll jab yourself."
Hey! That was...
That was...
Fairly likely, actually.
He huffed but stood still and let her get the thing on.
"Gotta run." She leaned up and gave him a quick kiss. "See you later."
I forgot how good she looks in that straitjacket.
Shut up, Scarecrow.
What? I can look.
He pulled on the mask, took one last glance at the monitors-they were just moving Croc now, thank god he was going back to his cell-and left the room.
Not five minutes later, all hell broke loose.
"Joker's escaped! Need backup in-"
The guard rounded the corner and came to a screeching halt at the sight of him. Scarecrow spread his arms and made a 'come at me bro' gesture with his gloved hand.
The guard went for his gun.
Scarecrow threw a capsule at him and he managed to stay upright for a minute before going down, fingers scratching like mad at his arms. Already Scarecrow could see drops of blood beginning to stain his shirtsleeves.
"There was a crooked man, and he walked a crooked mile..."
"GOD NO PLEASE NO!"
"He found a crooked sixpence upon a crooked stile..."
The guard finally tore the sleeves, revealing raw skin underneath. Scarecrow leaned down and brushed a needle against a particularly red spot.
"He bought a crooked cat, which caught a crooked mouse..."
Poor bastard was beginning to foam at the mouth a bit now. Good.
"And they all lived together in a little...crooked...house."
Downstairs, he could hear the forced, painful laughter the Joker's chemicals caused. When he was through, there would be no laughter.
Only screams.
THE END