Fate had been cruel to him, and today, on the eve of Halloween, Jonathan Crane found himself at the start of his career, looking intently at the massive steel gates of Gotham University. Indeed, fate was cruel.
The last time he'd seen them – even though it were for an instant – was the day he was suddenly dismissed.
Let go was the literal term used by the Dean. The imprudent man insisted that his method of teaching was unconventional and posed a threat to the safety of the students. How was he to insight true fear from them? The gun was not meant to harm the students, just scare them a bit. How was he to know the broken ceramic from the container he shot would strike a student in the eye? Imagine the lawsuit.
Yes, the Dean spat that into his face as well. To keep the family from suing the college, they insisted Jonathan be let go. And so he was.
But now he was back.
The gates opened with a high-pitched squeal, bringing Jonathan from his traumatic thoughts. He slid his square framed glasses in place with a slim finger and carefully drove his stolen Telsa up the long and narrow track to the university.
Once at the top he parked in a staff reserved lot and switched off the engine.
Old habits, he reminded himself.
Jonathan was after all a well-known instructor some time ago, with an assigned lot near the main campus, but that detail was of no concern to him anymore. He had moved on, as one would say. Jonathan was a leading psychiatrist at Arkham and although the money was decent, the price of chemicals he needed for his experiments were more than he could afford. This was his only reason for being here; returning to the place he derided so much.
Deep inside his blood began to boil in anger.
He always gave the impression as though he were a stoic man; not far from the truth in his opinion. Jonathan was open minded to adversity and held in such high regard at the asylum. He liked to think it was because he was a prodigy, which his imprudent colleagues revered him for, but he knew better.
They feared him for his sharp remarks and authoritative temperament he held himself in.
On the other hand, the day Jonathan was let go, he was furious. Out for blood, one might say. The screams; the sheer terror imprinted on the Dean's face brought back such fond memories for Jonathan. Memories that made his lips curl into a smile.
How he longed to feel this reaction again. He never felt so elated before.
His skin littered with goosebumps at the mere thought at the terror that came to be. And when the Dean died of shock, he could hardly breath.
His fingers went numb. Glancing down at them, Jonathan realized he was gripping the steering wheel tightly in his hands. Some feeling came back to them moments after he forced his fingers to let go.
Be patient, he thought.
Slowly he composed himself, becoming the stoic psychiatrist he generally was and slid out of the car. The late autumn air felt unusually cool in contrast to his heated skin. It was soothing to say the least. Jonathan brushed back his dark hair, which took to sticking to his forehead, and grabbed his briefcase from the passenger seat. He had delayed himself long enough.
The walk across campus was short. He moved quickly along the footpath until he came to the administration office in the central building. It was empty from what he could tell, but he ambled vigilantly through the lobby until he passed the mess hall.
If he had to guess, he'd say the attendants were there. Jonathan could hear a mass of voices echoing from the closed double doors; just as he had hoped. In any normal circumstance, he'd be there too, eating his lunch and working on his research, but his reality wasn't normal. It had never been, not even as a child.
Stay focused, he told himself.
Now was not the time for memories to resurface, not that it ever was in Jonathan's opinion. Still, he wondered if the bullies from his past would recognize him. He had changed a considerable amount in the years since he'd last seen them. He was still thin and tall, but his muscles had grown to fit his body, so to speak.
That didn't mean he wanted to be noticed. He took one last look at the past, and turned his back to it. He was now late for his meeting on the roof top.
The stairs to the roof were at the back of the building, to which he found without difficulty. They were blocked off with a narrow rope, but Jonathan easily stepped over it and jogged up to the metal door that led to the roof.
It was locked however. A simple precaution, but one that made Jonathan annoyed with himself for suggesting. He knocked twice with the back of his hand and waited. It didn't take long for the brute guarding it to open. Jonathan noted the tatty blue utility uniform he wore, which read Gotham Heat & Cooling on the sleeve.
"Doctor Crane," he greeted.
Jonathan dipped his head to acknowledge him, and walked through the small opening he made between himself and the frame. He was met by three other men wearing the same uniform, one of which was crouched on his knees working on unlatching the panel from the school's air conditioning unit. Jonathan moved across the rooftop to meet with him.
"Evening doctor," he said, sparing Jonathan a look. "I assume the blueprints gave you a bit of trouble finding the staircase."
Jonathan overlooked his previous statement. "Good evening. I am supposed to meet with Silas Lynch."
"That would be me," he said.
He stood up and offered his hand to Jonathan, to which he shook. Now that he was facing him, Jonathan could see the name Lynch printed on the upper corner of his shirt. He was shorter than Jonathan, but stout. His manners were varied, a notion the doctor picked up as Silas shook his hand still wearing his grime covered work gloves.
"It's a pleasure," Jonathan grunted, wiping his free hand on his suit vest.
"On to business, I suppose. May I have the aerosol tank?"
Jonathan agreed with a nod. He was becoming slightly annoyed with the man. He watched as Silas bent to his knees and pulled the panel from the unit. Inside was the compressor tank, attached to a smaller canister by an air hose; the refrigerant as the label read.
Silas detached the refrigerant tank from the compressor and slowly slid it from the unit, pushing it to the side. He then took the aerosol tank and latched it in place, hooking the air hose into the valve at the top of the container.
"It is finished," he said with a grin.
Jonathan was impressed, but only for a second. Silas knew his role well. He replaced the refrigerant with the canister of compressed toxin, so that the toxin would be pumped through the heating ducts, then be pumped back into the compressor when the cycle began again.
However, he forgot where he stood in all this. Of course, this was his experiment and his formula, but not his plan. It belonged to his employer, the man who was paying him. The man whose face he had never seen.
"What orders did your boss give you once the canister was set?"
Silas laughed, "No need to worry. He's not planning on double crossing you, doctor."
"What were the orders?"
"He... uh told us to follow your lead, assist you in whatever you need," the man said quietly.
"Good to hear," Jonathan stated with a smile. "I assume you know to stay put, until I tell you otherwise. As for the others, I need them."
"You need them for what?"
"That's none of your concern," Jonathan replied. "Just have them ready to follow me when the time is right, and remember, gas masks on."
Jonathan latched his briefcase and moved to exit the roof. It was time, the work was finished, and now he could play.
However, he was stopped before he could reach the door. The brute in front of it locked his arms.
"Where are you going?"
Jonathan turned and gave him a wicked smile. "To get dressed for the occasion of course."
The stage life was a ruthless road to travel.
The curtains drew open – or rather the doors – and enveloped Ana in a burst of light. She took a deep uneasy breath, allowing the cool fresh air to fill her lungs, then hesitantly took her place amongst the crowd of eager students.
A sudden chill crept down her spine, sending her into a fit of shivers that stopped her cold. She knew this feeling all too well.
It was fear; the same crippling fear that haunted her every time. Ana did her best to push the feeling aside so that her focus was sharp, but the anxiety remained, lying dormant in the darkest corners of her mind.
Baby steps, she reminded herself as she forced her legs to continue moving forward. Just as she rehearsed. Ana took one step at a time, walking down the stairs of the university as she searched the mass of students in the area.
It was around noon. The air was cool and dry; a strong reminder that autumn was upon Gotham. Many of the scholars were camped out on the lawn to enjoy the decent weather before it became too cold.
Ana settled down at the top of the stairs in the shadow of a stone column and waited. It severed as a temporary nest so that she could keep a bird's eye view of the activity on the estate. So far, it was fairly quiet.
A little too quiet, she thought to herself.
There was absolutely nothing going on.
Ana sighed and stood to her feet, heaving her body up and onto the narrow niche of the pillar. The square base was wide enough so that she could balance her toes on it. Ana had to wrap her arms around the expanse of the support to keep well adjusted.
For as long as she could remember she loved being up high. The thrill of it made her smile in eager glee. She wanted to climb to the top of the university and watch the clouds as they rolled by.
If only she wasn't on a job.
From the pillar of the main building Ana could see everything from the private bank to the high-end museum across campus, and the arena. It wasn't long before she saw him; Brian Rogers.
He left the football field with his friends, slowly making his way towards the fountain in the center of the courtyard. She wasn't expecting him to bring company, although it wasn't unusual. Rogers was the star quarterback of the college team; he was rather popular.
In his private file, it gave a list of scholarships and advances he attained out of high school; family assets and bits of personal information Ana leafed through before being assigned the job. Unfortunately, Rogers didn't hardly have any money to his name.
He's what Ana would call 'quick money' meaning she had been given the chore of pocketing cash from him, as a means to eat.
Rogers moved into position near the fountain. He was on his way back to his door. It was detailed in his file; his schedule and patterns across campus were noted as well.
Today however, his pattern changed.
He was stopped by a woman with dark hair; a familiar woman named Lenore.
Ana needed to act.
She hopped from her perch and moved hastily down the stairs of the university and onto the lawn.
Lenore occupied him. It was her role; influencing people at her will and drawing in their attention. In spite of how good she was, even Ana knew Lenore couldn't hold him or his friends for long.
Ana pressed forward, extending her slender legs to their full extent. She pushed passed a number of scholars along the way carrying on debates that seemed irrelevant to her, and stepped on to the narrow footpath that looped the fountain. Rogers was in site, or rather his back was turned to her. She was able to see his worn leather wallet sticking from his rear pocket, just about in grasp of her hand.
She clasped her fingers into a fist, then extended them out as far off from the palm of her hand as she was capable. Shivering in fear, Ana grasped for the object.
However, before she was able to take it, she was hit in the right shoulder with enough force to spin her around, knock her off balance, and drop her onto the pavement with a loud smack.
A sharp pain shot up her side.
"I am so sorry," a voice bellowed out. "I didn't see you there. Are you okay?"
Ana clinched her jaw tight, drowning out the slur of curses that just about passed her lips. She was in mild pain.
"I'm fine," she groaned in frustration, leaning back her head.
The voice belonged to a young man; a decent looking rich kid in slacks. He gawked at Ana for an instant, shifting his blue eyes over her, then grinned.
"I can see that," he teases.
Ana blushed in embarrassment. This was new to her and a little awkward. She wasn't used to people openly flirting with her – or busting her for that matter. Ana had been told that she was pretty before, but she typically disregarded the sentiment all together.
She looked like her mother; average height and thin. Her dark hair and pale skin came from her bastard of a father.
"I'll take that as a compliment," she mumbled.
To make matters worse, Rogers glanced at them.
His mouth pulled into a smirk as he noticed the rich kid and turned to greet him.
"Way to go man. Grayson landed him a girl," he stated with a laugh.
"What can I say? She ran straight into my arms," he retorted.
Ana rolled her eyes as he proceeded to joke with Rogers. Men can be such idiots at times. As they joke, ignoring her, she shot a glance at Lenore.
Said woman nodded and slipped back into the crowd. Ana sighed; she mucked up. Somehow, she had to make it up – her contact put so much work into keeping tabs on Rogers.
"Some gentleman you turned out to be," Ana said out loud.
"Pardon me?"
Grayson glanced at her, face turning red. How could he have forgotten? He leaned down and offered her his hand. "My apologies, miss."
"It's Ana. My name is Ana," she clarified, taking his hand so that he could help her up.
She took a second to dust the grass off her clothing as Grayson stood beside her awkwardly.
"I'm Dick," he mentioned.
Ana agreed. "Yeah, you are, caveman."
He grinned. "Nice joke. Richard is my name; everyone just calls me Dick."
How charming. Ana sighed and glanced into the crowd. Where had Lenore gone? It was time she took off too.
"Well Dick, I appreciate you being a gentleman and all but I was on my way to meet with a friend. I shouldn't keep them waiting," she lied.
He stopped her, standing in front of her as she tried to leave. "Let me apologize properly. Maybe over a cup of coffee or lunch."
"I don't drink coffee, and I already have a lunch date with friends," She mentioned.
Ana brushed past him. Maybe Lenore had returned to the dorms.
"What if I pay?"
There was an idea.
She stopped and glanced over her shoulder with a fake smile. "Only if my friends can come along."
"I can't say no to a lady," he said with a grin.
Ana told him she'd meet him later, and went to find her accomplices.
The cafeteria was bright and heavy with students; the air smothering. Ana sat down beside Dick; Lenore on her right. She was pleased to see that he had secured a booth as each one was crowded with people. The sandwich Dick bought her sat unopened on the table as Lenore and he spoke – she was ever the social butterfly.
Ana ignored them and picked up a pamphlet left on the table, looking over the layout of Gotham state; lecture times and important dates.
"What are you majoring in?"
She glanced up, noticing that Dick was smiling at her. He tapped his pen on the desk like a makeshift drumstick as he waited for her answer.
"Business," she lied. "Well … I'm studying social science and liberal arts until I can get my PHD in law."
Lenore snorted and curled her lips. "You do love to argue. Mind ordering something for Bekah?"
Ana hid her smile. Lies slipped so easily from her mouth. She took the pencil from him and opened the pamphlet to where the lunch tabulate was, scratching down a fake order. Excusing herself from the table, she walked up to where the display cases were and leaned against them with a sigh.
Rebekah puckered a brow.
"How does she do it?"
Ana hummed. "Do what?"
"Be someone she's not?"
Ana dreaded the worse, considering she mucked up the job Rebekah planned. Shrugging her shoulders, she shivered as the heat above them blared down. The cool touch of the case felt nice against her skin.
"No idea," she said honestly. "You know how she is. Lenore is whoever she wants to be."
It was hard to tell with her. Sometimes even she had a hard time remember the real her.
"Because I asked her to take that role," she admitted.
Ana sighed. She understood. They had a code to follow.
"I can find another," she insisted.
Rebekah nodded in agreement. "I hope so. This is unlike you."
"Richard Grayson took me off guard," Ana admitted. She glared at him from across the room. "Like he knew and intentionally knocked me down."
"Doesn't matter. We'll move on after a few more jobs, then take the valuables to the fence," the blonde declared. She scratched at her arm with a grunt.
Ana agreed in relief. She hated playing student.
Something felt off to her. She curled her nose in disgust. The air smell musty and wet.
Like blood; like that night.
Why did she relate the two just now?
Ana widened her eyes just as someone screamed. Looking over at Rebekah, she watched her cough and double over onto her knees. Her body stiffened in fear; she screamed, adding to the hysteria of the room. The hell was going on?
"They're everywhere," she cried. Her nails dug into her arm, clawing at the patch like skin beneath her high-necked hoodie. "In my skin. I can feel them crawling inside me."
Ana leaned down beside her. There was nothing there; nothing crawling beneath her skin as far as she could see. She refrained from touching her and shouted for someone to help her, but like Rebekah, the others were also in hysterics.
Screams of horror echoed through the room.
But why?
The air, perhaps. It had a strange odor.
It was too late then. Ana knew that she too had been infected.
Her mouth flooded with something and sprayed the floor. Thick lumps of blood oozed down her chin. She gasped in shock and forced her eyes shut. How was this happening? Was the air infected with a virus?
Someone grabbed her arm.
"Ana … please ––
She opened her eyes just as Rebekah coughed blood into her face. It got into her eyes, painting her vision a dark red. She gasped and pushed the woman aside, attempting to wipe it away. There was too much; her clothes were soaked like she had taken a bath in it. Where was the blood coming from?
Ana shivered in disgust and hauled herself onto her feet using the display case as a crutch. Her shoes slipped on the pool of blood beneath her, but she was able to keep her footing and move away from the area. Rebekah was still on the floor, scratching thin lines into her bare skin. There was nothing she could do for her. Ana had to get out of here.
People rushed past her, slamming into her; some begging to help; some trying to escape. She made it to the door and tried to push it open, but it would not budge. Someone had locked it from the outside. Ana screamed in frustration and shoved against it.
"How peculiar," she heard a voice say.
Ana turned and noticed someone, or something behind her. It spoke like a human – laughed at her even as she stared in fear at it – but looked like a monster. The nine-foot-tall creature glanced at her with a wide grin across its stitched face. Blood oozed from its mouth and eyes.
"What are you?"
The creature hummed, leaning its head to the side. "Are you not scared? What do you see?"
Blood, so much blood.
Ana jumped as it poured down her back from the top of the door. This was straight out of a nightmare. No. Nightmares couldn't compare to the real thing. Ana knew. She had seen it before.
"Make it stop," she begged.
Sinking to the floor, she covered her eyes and sobbed.
"Help me … don't leave me here."
Tears ran down her face. It was happening again. The horrid smell of sour dead tissue invaded her nose; the old black goat choking on its own blood invaded her ears.
How did she get back here? Didn't she run?
"I can take away your fear," the monster said. His voice gurgled.
Ana shivered. "Please … please help me."
"As you wish," it laughed.
Something pierced into her arm and to sleep she drifted.