12;05 pm
The Scarecrow's lair
"So. You are the renowned Freudian psychologist Adrienne Crainte, who I met in college."
The Scarecrow paced around a small grey table.
Fear waited, head down.
To escape from Batman, he had used her as a distraction. He had taken her along with him, but that did not mean that she would be anyhing more than a distraction to him now. Still, she remembered the touch of the rope and his long fingers, more clawlike than anything else, but gentle as they had grasped her tighly, bungee jumping from building to building.
The Scarecrow was happy. He grinned. Normally, this would be a bad sign for the reciever, but Fear did not flinch.
"I am delighted, Fear."
Fear lifted her head.
"You have easily defeated the Batman. He will be back, as soon as he recovers. Oh yes, no doubt about that. But it will take a while. Now,"
he crossed over to where she stood, and held out a hand. Fear dropped the vial of neurotoxin into his waiting hand. He held it up to the light. "Incredible. Absoluely marvelous. It's almost exactly like mine, but a bit more concentrated." He was silent for a moment, looking at the vial. Then he turned back to Fear. "Miss Crainte. I am Jonathan Crane."
Fear's eyes widened. The boy in the corner at the high school dance..."
The Scarecrow sighed. "Ah, yes. And you, the girl in an argument with a football player. How sweet it was...."
Years ago, At a High School dance....
Young Jonathan Crane stood uneasily in a corner of the gym. People were all dancing, and he felt quite alone. But not everyone was dancing. A football player bumped young Jon as he passed roughly. Jonathan fell to the ground.
"What a wimp." The jock laughed. Jonathan slowly got up, glaring at the jock, only to be pushed roughly down again. His lip met the floor, and Jon could taste salty blood running down his mouth. He glared at the jock again, and tried to get up once more, cringing when the jock raised a hand. But it never came down. A girl with hair died gray, who wore a flowing gray dress, intercepted it with a martial arts block. "Don't."
The jock sneered. "Who are you?"
"Adrienne. Adrienne Crainte. Ring a bell?" She glared at him, and rather sufficiently, for he backed off. "Fine, Witch. Take the wimp."
The jock walked away. Jonathan stared at his saviour. He had seen her hanging out with the goth crowd a while ago, and had only taken notice because of her strange appearance.
She was beautiful, in a sociopathic way. Possibly something wrong mentally, but certainly able to command respect as being a witch. She helped him up, and took off her scarf, gray again, to wipe away the blood. Young Jon blushed furiously. She smiled at him.
"M-My favorite color is gray. It's like my life. Misty."
She smiled again. "Same here."
Jonathan grew a strange feeling in his stomach. "W-Would you hurt me, If I asked you to dance?"
She smiled, a wonderfully silver color, and took him by the hands.
Several people watched them, including Pamela Isley, Harleen Quinzel, and Selina Kyle.
"Good times, good times." The Scarecrow sighed, deep in memory.
Fear watched him.
He looked over at her.
"My dear Fear, would you hurt me If I asked you to dance?"
He held out his hands.
Fear's heart fluttered. She took his hands.
They began a slow waltz to music only they could hear.
Atop the building, Catwoman watched with nightvision, humming a tune to herself.
"So it really does take two. To argue, to have a converation, to waltz." She purred.
"And to fall in love. Oh yes, I cant forget that."