AN: Originally I was going to call this chapter 'Jailcrow' because I thought the pun was funny. But no time for puns, time for a conclusion to this thrilling tale! Enjoy this pseudo-epilogue.
"Alright, kid. To your cell."
Jonathan grimaced at the sound of the cop's voice. He sounded like he had smoked ten packs of cigarettes a day, which was pretty bad on the ears. He turned to look at the cop.
"I'm going, I'm going." He sounded utterly defeated; like someone who had lost everything. In some respects, he had. He had lost his reputation, his chance at glory, and his remaining fear toxin samples. Part of him wanted to beat the cop up, but considering that fact that he was both taller and more muscular than him, he let the idea slide.
The cop just glared at him from behind his sunglasses. "Good. You'll be here for a long time, kid." His gaze softened a little as he took off his sunglasses, revealing his blue eyes. "Honestly, I just wish I knew why you did it. Hate seeing kids getting drawn to evil."
I'm not evil, Jonathan wanted to snap at him. But he bit his tongue and sighed. "Where is my cell, anyway?"
The cop placed his hands on his hips. "It's Cell 1941. Just down the right hall."
"Good to know," Jonathan muttered. He tugged at the collar of his uncomfortable prison getup and began to walk down the right hall. He spotted some other teenagers looking at him. Most of them looked looked fairly normal, while some looked like guys from a freakshow. One was covered in scales and was looking at him like he was a snack, licking his lips. Jonathan just cringed and tried to ignore him -and how much he looked like he could so easily break out of the bars- and turned his attention elsewhere. To his left, he spotted an empty cell that had a note on the wall. It read 'LATER LOSERS. YOU CAN'T HOLD ME. - LW'. Maybe if they could escape, I could, Jonathan thought.
Eventually, after passing through many cells, he spotted his cell. The number 1941 was engraved in what looked like gold, but was probably just copper, just about the cell door. He sighed, bowed his head, and walked into the cell, closing the door behind him. The cell was mostly empty. There was a bed, a book on the floor that that was lying cover-down, with him guessing that it was probably an journal or a guideline book for the prison, and a small, dusty TV hung up in the top-right corner of the cell.
"Some place to stay," Jonathan quipped to no one in particular. He jumped onto his new bed. Surprisingly, it was kind of comfy. He had half-expected the beds here to have bricks instead of mattresses. It was almost like his old bed, in his old room.
But it wasn't. It was a cell. It didn't have his drawings, his laptop, Lynch...
That last thought made him sit up. It seemed that, right then and there, it all hit him. He couldn't go back home. He was cut off from his family. Mom, Uncle Otis, Lynch...
He choked back a sob. "This can't be my life," he mumbled, placing his head into his hands. This couldn't be what the rest of his life was going to be. Slowly rotting away in his jail cell, near to psychopaths like that crocodile-guy. "This has to be a dream. I'm at home. I got away." He began shaking his head rapidly. Wake up, Jonathan! Wake-"
Suddenly, a loud ringing noise filled his eyes, causing him to look at the source of the noise. It was something in his pocket. He reached into it and pulled out his phone. The cops must have forgotten to take it off him. On the screen was the word 'MOM'.
Jonathan cringed. He never wanted Mom to find out about what he had done. He just had a feeling that she would lost her mind. He didn't want to hurt her, or Otis for that matter. He sighed, pressing the green button and holding the phone up to his ear. "Hello?"
"Jonathan?" It was Mom. Her voice sounded frantic, and like she was out of breath. Either that, or one second away from just bursting into tears. "Is that you?"
Jonathan didn't say anything at first. He just stared into space, barely blinking. The shock of this whole situation was all finally crashing down on him. He was a criminal, a prisoner. Just like the guys he had passed by. After a few seconds, he returned to reality, clearing his throat. "Yeah, i-it's me, Mom."
"The... the news. Apparently, you hurt people! Innocent people! They're saying you're the Scarecrow!" Towards the end of the sentence, he heard her voice crack, which only made him feel worse. "Please... tell me it's not true! You can't be a criminal! You're my pride and joy! You're my baby!"
Soon, a cacophony of tears began to crackle out of the phone. The sound of it alone caused tears to stream down Jonathan's face. "Mom... I..." He tried to find the words to calm her down, but he couldn't. He had a feeling that she wouldn't believe him when he said that he wasn't the real villain in the situation. "You can come up to my cell later in the day. Bring Uncle Otis, too. I..." He swallowed. "I love you, Mom."
That's when he heard the beep, signalling the call's end. Jonathan placed the phone down, staring at the wall. Two emotions were welling up inside him. There was sadness, for hurting Mom like that. He never wanted to do that. God only knew how Otis felt. He could only imagine that he was taking it as well as Mom...
But there was also anger. Anger at being foiled. Anger at having his moment taken away from him. Anger at Batgirl.
A bully? Him? No, he wasn't a bully. The other people were bullies. He was just fighting back. There wasn't anything evil about that. If anything, he deserved to be feared. Some random girl dressed up as a purple bat didn't have the right to take that away from him. Just thinking about it made Jonathan want to flip his bed over, but he knew he wasn't physically strong enough to do so.
That's when he heard it again. His phone was ringing again. He held it up, expecting it to be Otis. It wasn't. Instead, the screen read 'UNKOWN NUMBER'.
He didn't know why, but he answered the call, holding the phone up to his ear. "Who's there?" He asked. He heard the trembling in his voice, praying that whoever was on the other end didn't.
"Jonny?"
Jonathan's eyes burst open as he held the phone away from him. "Dad?"
He would recognize that raspy, worn-out voice from anywhere. It was his father, Gerald Crane. Phoning him right now. The thought alone was dizzying? How did he get a phone? Did he escape Arkham? Was he let out? Why didn't he hear about it?
Eventually, once his mind calmed down, he brought the phone back to his ear. "How... how are you ringing me?"
He heard Gerald chuckle. "I stole one of the guards' phones. I remembered your phone number, Jonny. A father never forgets!" He sounded joyful, happier than Jonathan had ever heard him before. He heard Gerald clear his throat before continuing. "I heard about what happened in Metropolis. How you dressed up as a scarecrow and attacked people. You're in jail now, aren't you?"
Jonathan felt his shoulders sag. "Yes, I am."
He could have never expected what was to come next.
"I'm so proud of you, son."
What? Jonathan froze, trying to process that. His father? The man who always turned him away when he tried to show him a drawing? The man who didn't come to his school play? The man who barely seemed to acknowledge his existence? Proud of him? Had he gone mad himself?
He coughed. "Proud of me?"
Gerald laughed over the phone. "Of course! When I heard you were gassing people with my fear toxin, making them see their darkest phobias, my heart swelled with joy! My own son, following in my footsteps in this cruel, cruel world." Now, he just sounded positively elated. "You're just like me, Jonathan."
After hearing the last part, Jonathan's face contorted with fury. The one thing he knew that he wasn't was his pathetic excuse for a father. He was strong, Gerald was weak. He was smart, Gerald was foolish. He was justified in doing what he did. Gerald did it for his sick kicks. The fact that he thought the two were even comparable was... almost sickening.
He held the phone up to his mouth. "I am not like you. At all," he spat into the speaker. "What excuse do you have for doing gassing your classroom? None. I was pushed around my entire life. I actually have a reason for doing the things I choose to do."
He heard Gerald scoff. "Don't tell me you think that makes you moral, son. I may be classified as insane by the board of Arkham, but I'm clearly more rational than you." Now, his voice was infinitely less cheerful, sounding more like the pessimistic asshole he was back at home.
Jonathan growled. "Shut up!" He wasn't going to be pushed around by his loon of a father.
"Now, son. I know you're angry." Now, Gerald sounded a little desperate. As if he was feebly trying to win back his love and affection. But listen to me. When I break out of Arkham -and I will- I'll get you. You can be my sidekick! We can continue my research in fear! We-"
Jonathan gripped his phone so hard he thought that he would break it. When he spoke again, he sounded borderline demonic. "Leave me alone!" With that, he threw his phone across the cell. It hit the adjacent wall and broke apart. He couldn't even muster the energy to get up and gather the parts of it. He just sat on his bed, staring up at the slowly rotating ceiling fan and feeling sorry for himself.
He felt his mind be drifted back to Barbara. That was probably the biggest disappointment of Metropolis. Finally, he had found a friend. A friend from kindergarten, no less. She was fun, spunky, and she had a good heart.
Well, at least that's what he thought. Just when they were getting really close as friends, she just had to ruin everything. He still thought about her calling him 'evil' back in Sweet Justice. The thought made his blood boil. He was the furthest thing from evil. It was Doris and Leslie, they were the evil ones. They were the ones who deserved to suffer. Maybe he should have gone to one of their houses before he attacked that Barbi girl.
Then, she had probably screwed up his chances at presenting himself at the science fair. Just to stab him in the back She had said that friends don't let friends do 'bad things'. But she did a bad thing by doing that, not to mention pretty much telling him to stay a submissive, weak punching bag. To him, friends don't let friends get picked on by monsters. Hell, she didn't even help him when he was getting harassed by Leslie in the mall. And she had the audacity to claim he didn't care about hurting Barry. Some friend she was.
Maybe he should have expected it. Barley anything went his way in the end. What made him think that being friends with Barbara was going to be any different?
He stared at the dusty window in his cell. The sun was peeking out, illuminating his room. It didn't make him feel any better. Instead, it just mocked him. He just looked down on his lap.
"I will escape," he muttered, picked at his fingernails. "I will escape and take my revenge. On all of them. Batgirl, Leslie, Doris... Everyone."
But, unfortunately for Jonathan, it didn't look like his escape would be happening any time soon.
And that is the end! I hope you all enjoyed this story, all 13 chapters of it! Please drop a favourite it you liked it. Also, here's a little question: How sympathetic do you find Jonathan in the end?
My next story will be a stand-alone sequel to this. It will focus on different protagonists, namely the Super Villain Girls (and Barbi, because if the show won't use her, I might as well use her), as well as a different antagonist. It won't be a direct follow-up to this. So, if you were expecting a true follow-up, I am sorry. But hopefully, you'll all like it.
But, who could the antagonist be? Which villain will I be reinventing for my fanfiction?
Well... I'm afRaid that I'm not going to outrIght say it in this author's note. But I'm sure you Diligent reaDers wiLl be ablE to figuRe it out...
Until I post again, this is ManOFiction245 telling you to keep your eyes out for my next DCSHG fic. see you on the flipside!