Bittersweet Revenge

From Crane's POV! A little background info: Those two antagonists mentioned in the Ch. 1 synopsis? They've been caught at the scene of a crime, and are protesting a prison stay. Jonathan watches from the shadows. Onward!

"You can't hold us in the prison! I'm under strict medical plans! I need to be held in a non-hostile environment!" The voice I knew so well, taunting, mocking, digging into your skin like splinters; and here were the two men who had destroyed me. Caught in a robbery. Evading justice once again with an insanity plea. Oh, I had seen it before, but before I had been impartial.

It is time

"We'll see. Officer Brady, please telephone Dr. Crane at Arkham Asylum and we'll see about your so-called inability to function in a prison environment." I had all of the psychological reports of the citizens of Gotham…many, in fact, I had memorized. But still, phone me over this? After hours? Arkham was shut down for the night, the wards safely – God willing – in bed and asleep. What did they think I was? A traveling shrink at their beck and call? They didn't know that I was already there, hiding in the shadows, torn.

For my bittersweet revenge.

"Crane?" asks Deke, "What's his first name?" And I can see the thrill of premonitory dread that traces itself down his spine.

"Jonathan. He's the warden of the asylum." The cop snarls at him.

"Arkham's not answering," states Officer Brady. No kidding. We're closed, stupid.

"Jonathan Crane?" The wheels in Deke's fat head are turning. Soon, soon there will be…

Dawning recognition.

I swore I'd get you back for it…the day you threw me into the mud in front of everyone. The day you caught me in the alley and took my dignity from me…no! I will not do this again!

"What?" Obberton's rat face, repugnant in its obliviousness, peers at Deke through the semidarkness.

"Daaaamn…it can't be…you remember him?"

"No."

"Anorexic kid with the strange hair and glasses. Sat in front of you in Pharmaceuticals 409. Never talked to anyone, remember? We threw his stuff out the window into the river that one time. Actually, we threw him in the river a few times. Ha, ha!"

"Uhhh…"

"Come on. We tormented this kid for eight years. You kept a tally of how many times you could beat him up. What did you call him…skeleton? No…uh…"

I step out into the circle of police lights. "I believe it was… 'Scarecrow'."

The crowd melts away from me.

You made me who I am!

A part of me just wants to assign this ordeal to Doctor Yang. After all, she deals with the criminally insane just as much as I. She is more than qualified.

My fear of humanity comes from people like you!

And it will spare you the hurt, a part of my brain whispers. Hurt? I just want to see them fall! Beg for mercy…wish they'd never laid a hand on me. Feel like I felt that day…the day I realized that there truly was nothing but fear. It won't hurt me to destroy them.

I want to rip you apart.

That damnable portion of my conscious whispers for me to have mercy on their souls. Out of the corner of my eye I see Rachel Dawes watching me. Wonderful. Ammunition for my enemies, poison for my soul.

Because I can still see a boy…no! Just be silent…

I want to make them suffer like they made me suffer. I died every day for eight long years at their hands, why should I have mercy!

Weasel your way out of this one.

I don't know what I want anymore. As I grow older – and I am not old – I grow more tired of this constant burning, blinding pain, hurt, rage. Impotent. It uses me up from the inside and tosses me aside when it's done…a piece of refuse is this body. As I step out of the alleyway, and people begin to notice me and poke one another, the policeman brings the crooks around to face me. And they face me. My tormenters, the embodiment of my despair. They are the wardens of my fear, as I am the warden of the Asylum. How ironic. My glasses glint on their faces and I can see the still-familiar smirk on Obberton's face.

Sweet,

"Well, well. Johnny boy. Still creepy, isn't he Deke? I heard you're running the nuthouse now…good place for you." Still creepy, am I? Creepy! You will see me in your wildest nightmares.

Deke looks at me with more caution, and I see that he realizes that the tables have turned. All of my young life I have dreamt of this moment, to conquer those who forced me into my shell.

Sweet

"I can't analyze them here. If you'll bring them to Arkham, please, officers, I can begin the evaluation."

Revenge.