Do not assume you know where this is going. Seriously.
I don't own anything but Lorna and maybe Lester there, blah blah blah. DC. The end.
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FROM THE P.O.V. OF LESTER CRUMP
Some kids grow up in gangs, like me. Things just kind of escalated, and when I already crossed the point of no return in the world of crime, I joined the big leagues as one of Two-Face's posse. It ain't the best job, but it gives ya street cred and some cash, plus a cool outfit. We don't really have to do anything, just stand there and look tough, but sometimes things happen. Like Batman, for example. Yeah, I've had a few run-ins with tha bat. I'd like to give myself credit for gettin' the heck outta there before he gets to me. We can't stop 'im. We just ain't that experienced. We're expendable, hired for the grunt work. The boss took a bit of an interest in me. Said I was smarter than the others. So, he gave me a better job: private security. That means I go where he goes n' alla dat.
It had been a quiet day. It was in the evening now, and nuthin' big had happened yet. The boss was doin' a few small jobs on the side, but nuthin' big. Not yet. Not until HE came. The wimpy-lookin' guy with a stupid hat an' straw comin' outta everywhere. I told him he wasn't allowed to see the boss. He gave me dis frown and looked like he was about ta try somethin' when the boss called 'im in over my shoulder.
The little guy waltz past me, "You're boys are a little fridgid, Harvey. Maybe I should help them to lighten up."
The boss actually stood up for the guy, straightening his tie all neat-like, and he said, "You'll have to excuse them. I haven't told anyone about our plans yet." Then he pulled out a flippin' gun and aimed it right at me! That's the problem with workin' for a guy with a split personality. But he didn't fire. Nope. He took out that god damned coin and gave it a flip. Lucky for me, it landed right-side up and he put the gun away, telling me how greateful I should be for my life. Tch. I was jus' doin' my job.
Apparently this was the Scarecrow guy that pops up in the news from time to time. Another big baddie. He an the boss seemed to have reached an agreement about doin' a job togetha, and we, 'da boys', were about to get told. It was gonna be a big jewelry heist. Gotham's a big city so it's gotta have a lotta things to attract tha tourists. Famouse things always gatta stop here, like pop stars, the Oscar Mayer Weiner-mobile, and precious jewelry exibits. They always risk gettin' tha expensive stuff stolen 'cause this city's got a lotta smart wackos who can totally make off with tha exibit. Like what we were gonna do.
Scarecrow said right now was just a check-up. Said way later tonight would be the time we make our move. Things were in order. Whateva'. I knew I was gonna be there, probly gonna hafta fight the bat. This always happens, the cycle, and when I'm done for, Two-Face'll hire a new personal guard. Like I care. My life was pissed away when I dropped outta' tha' aigth grade.
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FROM THE P.O.V. OF LORNA MILES
Near the end of my sleep, I felt the place beside me become unoccupied, but because I wasn't paying attention, I didn't care. I woke up in a very interesting situation the next night to the smell of warm food. The scent of bacon was very strong. I tossed onto my side, sliding an arm beneath the single pillow which lay beneath my head, and opened my eyes to Scarecrow standing at my stove, flipping pancakes in full costume. I couldn't help but laugh. I wish I had a camera.
When he heard me chuckle, he glanced over his shoulder at me, the straw like hair moving over his boney shoulders. He gave the pancake another flip without looking, "Good... well, night."
"You seem happy," I told him when I tossed off the blanket and joined him at his side.
"Not in particular," he re-focused on what his hands were doing.
I turned around and hopped up onto the counter somewhere to the side, dishing a clean plate out of the cabinet, "Those for me too, or do I have to make my own?" I didn't know I have pancake batter, and if I did, I wondered when the expiration date was.
"You too," he replied. I dished out another plate then.
When he was finished, he split the feast. I began to just eat it where I was, but stopped when he glared at me and motioned for me to sit at the table.
"Don't eat like a monkey," he said, plopping down in one of the crappy little wooden chairs. He was so tall and looked so out of place. I wondered if he had always seemed so unusual, and then found myself pondering about who he really was. What made him into who he was? He seemed nice enough ...now.
Scarecrow took off his hat and pulled off his mask, setting them down beside his plate in order to eat, and ran a hand back through his mane of mussed, short red hair. Some straw fell onto the ground. He apologized for the mess.
"I noticed you have a sewing machine," he commented mid-course.
I looked up to him with a mouthful of food and nodded, then swallowed, "Yeah. You wanna use it?"
"Yes. I don't know if you've realized, but costumes and masks are a large part of what I do."
"I think I'd have to be blind not to ...Jonathan." I didn't know what to call him. Me calling him 'Scarecrow' sounded kind of silly, but he didn't stop me or correct me when I said his first name. It was a well-known name, after all. Wasn't like I had to dig it up.
"Yes, or stupid."
"Which I'm not," I said quickly.
"Don't you think that's rather arrogant of you to say?" he put down his fork and leaned back in the chair, looking at me. He looked harmless enough. "How can you, yourself, say if you are stupid or not? To whom are you comparing yourself? To me?" He placed a long, skinny gloved hand on his chest flamboyantly.
I just stared at him, hunched over my plate and slowing the pace of my chewing. Was he serious?
"I'm just playing with you," he blinked.
An awkward moment drifted in as if it had come right through the front door and sat down right there on the table between us.
Jonathan looked back down and started quietly eating again, which made me feel kind of sorry that I hadn't smiled or laughed or something.
"So," I said after a moment, trying to shake off the awkwardness. "What do you need, material-wise?"
"I was thinking about making alterations to a straight-jacket, or constructing a shirt in a similar style. Maybe some... patches... here and there," Jonathan finished off his plate, as did I a moment or two after.
"I always liked your outfits," I told him, standing from my seat. I moved towards him to collect his plate with mine and took them to the sink.
"Really?" he folded his arms, still sitting in the chair.
"Yeah, but I think you could do so much more. I think you sometimes limit yourself," I called back as I turned on the water and washed both plates.
"Well, I can only do so much without proper supplies. Money. Although... I suppose money isn't such an issue anymore..."
"I always thought you'd look good in a cape. Give Batman a run for his money," when I returned, I leaned on the wall behind him, and he stood to turn and look at me.
"No, no. Capes only get in the way. They also give the enemy something to grab you by."
"Ok then," I carefully moved around him, daring to reach out and pick up the hat on the table, moving up towards the terrifying nerd of a professional criminal to place it on his head, pulling it down past his eyes until it hit the bridge of his nose just above the dorky glasses, "No cape."
He smiled, blinded by the base of the cone-shaped hat, which made him look goofy.
"Besides..." his said cooly, gripping the brim of the hat to pull it up. His eyes were glued right on me as soon as he could see again. "I'm trying to scare people, not remind them of their guardian angel."
He asked if we could get the costume done and completed within the span of just a few hours. I went out right away to get the material and supples. The next half of the night was spent attempting to throw together a descent-looking outfit. While I used the machine to make the shirt, he was hand-stitching the mask. While he made the pants, I fitted him for alterations on his hat. Hardley a word was spoken, but we got it all done, and when he came back from the bathroom from changing, he thanked me briefly before starting for the door.
I didn't see him again for the rest of the night, but I remember... hearing sirens... and watching the news.
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FROM THE P.O.V OF JONATHAN CRANE
It was one of those humid, hot nights when the first step outside feels like a wave of warmth crashing against you. I was dressed to impress, though I must admit that the new alterations were a little more than usual. Lorna may have gotten a little carried away, but the overall effect was a good one. People feared me already, and the costume suggested I had just escaped from Arkham - with style! Still, nowhere as queer as the Riddler. Honestly, I don't know why some people wear spandex if it only makes them look worse. Superman had the right to wear spandex. Bane. Not the Riddler or myself. Me in spandex... would terrify even the strongest of men... On second thought, perhaps I should give it another chance.
I met with Two-Face at the museum. To my exasperation, we had actually... God... done a coin flip for whether we would sneak in quietly or just smash the place up and trip all the alarms. The coin landed scarred-side up, so it would most likely get messy. Oh well. The priceless jewels were not my target anyway. I'd be in and out before even Batman arrived...
The first wave of thugs went in front of us, Dent and me, smashing the doors open like a frenzy of flopping fish, terribly disorganized and loud. I could have done this so much more professionally by myself...
The alarms were silent alarms, so the only ruckus was that caused by the brutes, trouncing all over everything. They reminded me of a plague of locusts, destroying everything in their path.
"Come now. Was smashing that vase really nessecary?" I sighed, folding my arms as I looked on the shattered remains of a work of art thousands of years old.
I didn't have to do anything. The plan WAS for me not to do anything until it was time to escape. I made my way casually down the hall and stopped for a brief moment to examine a painting. The jewels were reached in time, and I could practically see Two-Face drooling over them. I opened a burlap sack which he carelessly shoved billions of dollars worth of shiney rocks into, and I told him I had to take care of one thing before we left, so go ahead and go play like the big, disfigured kid and a candyshop that he was. I, personally, never saw much need for money... Especially if you were too infamouse to spend it. I suppose it's more the idea of riches that fuels such actions.
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FROM THE P.O.V. OF LESTER CRUMP
I accidentally knocked over some shitty vase and Scarecrow got mad at me. I'm just happy that pansy ain't my boss. My boss is way hardcore. He was right there with us, smashing things until they lost their shape. I was in the middle of teasing Frankie by makin' him wear this diamond tiara and shooting his feet so he'd dance when we heard the crash of a window, and Frankie went down, blotted out by a big black shadow which rose like the Devil rising from Hell, a pair of nasty white eyes staring at me. I turned to run, but my feet weren't takin' me anywhere. The collar of my jacket was bein' gripped and held back by the bat. Motherfin' pointy ears n' all. He sent me flyin' into the air. It was just plain luck that I got stuck up on a light that was stickin' out of the wall. I couldn't go no where or do nuthin, but I was outta tha fight, which was fine by me. I like my face it's natural tan color instead of black n' blue.
From this kinda' height, I could see everything. The bat was totally wailin' on everybody. The big boss man was the only one to square the freak off in a one-on one, but he was taken down pretty quickly as soon as he ran outta bullets. They said some things I couldn't make out. Eh, I could make out some...
The boss was laughin', and I knew why. The bat didn't know about that Scarecrow dude. Yeah, he'll show up and squash the freak flat. Take 'im by surprise. Now was da perfect time. ...But he never came.
"Scarecrow!" the boss was screamin'. Boy, was he madder than I ever seen him! "SCARECROW! CRAAAAAANNNNEEEE! YOU PIECE OF S !"
We were all hauled off when the cops came. Two-Face went in a different truck, but me an' the boys had to cram like sardines in this one little van. And that's da end of me. Unless I get released early for good behavior.
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FROM THE P.O.V. OF LORNA MILES
It was six in the morning before he came back. By then, I was watching the Gotham Morning News. The top story was a museum robbery that had occured overnight. Batman had "foiled Two-Face once again" and the day - night - was saved. Like always. They said not everything was held accountable for, though. They mentioned Scarecrow, how Two-Face had been screaming his name, telling the police about how they were supposed to be pulling the job together, but there was no trace of him. Not even a single piece of straw.
He opened my door quietly and slipped in, but when he saw I was awake and watching him, he shut it behind him with less caution. In his right hand was a small burlap sack with something in it - oh, I could guess - and on his back was a long tube which was tied over his shoulders by thick leather straps. I recognized it as a container for art.
"You didn't." I stared at him wide-eyed from my spot on the edge of the bed.
"I did," he replied indifferently, striding in towards me with an egotystical bounce in his step.
"Did anyone see you--"
"Come here? No. I made absolutely sure. It was a clean get-away." He crouched down until he was able to sit next to me.
"The news keeps saying Two-Face is spilling all the beans on you. He's pissed," I brought my knees to my chest and hugged them.
"Oh, I don't care if he sts bricks. I'll be left alone for quite a while longer." He sounded so sure. I didn't understand why. It was as if this wasn't a big deal at all to him, like a cake-walk! Meanwhile, I was almost freaking out! "I brought you a souvenier," he said, first taking off his hat and setting it aside. He then placed the bag down and proceeded to take off the tube from his back. I knew it was some piece of art, but I didn't know what it was yet, that is, until I opened it...
It was an original Picasso. I could see the way the light flowed along the mountains of texture and catch on the edges where the piece had been cut right out of its canvas frame. My jaw dropped and my eyes damn near popped out of their sockets, "I can't keep this!"
"What? Why not?"
"It's an original Picasso! Stolen right from the museum!" I couldn't even believe I was holding it. I could get my dirty, oily hands on it! OH DOOM! DOOOOOOOM!
"It's worth a lot of money," he said, nudging me in the side gently as if he were trying to sell it.
"I don't care about money!" and I began to roll it back up with the utmost care.
Jonathan snatched it away from me, nearly making a wrinkle. I cringed. "Fine," he said. "Then I'll keep it. And I'll hang it..." he stood and sauntered to the wall where the largest blank spot was, "right here until I leave." He took some thumbtacks from the desk and punctured the corners of the painting, sticking it to the wall. I made sounds like I was dieing.
"You...! YOU CAN'T PIN A PICASSO UP WITH THUMBTACKS!" I rubbed my face. This was too much.
"I just did," Jonathan looked back at me, placing his hands on his hips. He seemed to enjoy my squirming. "I bet some other art nuts sensed the pain of the painting just now and are writhing on the floor -- Yes! Just like that!" he pointed at me. True enough, I was writhing.
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FROM THE P.O.V. OF JONATHAN CRANE
When I entered the threshold, the first thing I noticed was Lorna on the edge of the bed. She was wearing what looked to be nothing but a large shirt... and was mildly dissapointed that she was just wearing shorts that were concealed. Still...
Her reaction was even greater than I had hoped. It was wildly amusing to me. Not quite fear, but I could see signs of something similar, the way her face turned a sickly shade of green. It turned into a riot after she dropped to the floor in agony. Silly little girl.
I walked by her to pick up my hat. 'Until I leave'. I had already stayed with her in her home for much longer than I had planned, but, why leave now? I had a roof over my head for a while. Food. Plumbing. Light. Even television, though I wish she had a computer... Or any game system. I would like to play the new Silent Hill games when I have the chance, and wondered how far Halo had come since the last time I was put away.
The hat was placed on the top shelf in her closet by the door, and I then proceeded to take off the mask and set it down neatly beside it.
"Jonathan..." I heard her directly behind me, then felt her hand on my shoulder. I turned around for her and idly adjusted my glasses. She was looking at me in a strange way, something very foriegn to me. She told me 'thank you' and said she appreciated the though. The girl asked me if I would be leaving soon. I told her I didn't know...
Both of her hands slid over my shoulders. The feeling of such gentle contact was strange. I had seldomly ever been touched with such tenderness. I felt paralyzed. Heart pounding - the pulse was ringing in my ears. Fingertips brushed my neck, and she never took her eyes away. Her feet moved a few centimeters towards me. She purposely lost her balance on me, forcing me a ways down, to her height, where I felt the softness of lips for the first time in ...forever. It was such an odd sensation. Who would have ever thought that randomly meshing two squishy parts of people's bodies together could feel so good? Maybe it was because it was supposed to mean something.
I returned the kiss on instinct, a little clumsily at first, but I was always a quick learner, and found my ground soon enough. A moan. Her's. I felt my back hit the wall and I lost my footing, mind too occupied - apparently - to keep my balance. We both fell, her on my lap, looking up at me who sat and looked back at her. She was between my legs, her arms hovering beside either side of my hips where her hands held her up against the floor, stomach towards the ground. She looked just as confused as I.
I rose an eyebrow at this interesting turn of events while she boldly rose up from between my legs, that look of confusion melting away into something else. That other look, the one I couldn't pin-point. Arms fell around my neck once more, touching lips. She was teasing me. It's always a bad idea to tease the deprived.
The tables turned when I gripped the material of her shirt which lay just against the lower curve of her back. With my hand balled into a fist, I pressed her in towards me until I could feel the curves of what lies beneath that clothing. She was gracious enough to permit me another moan...
When we edged our way back towards the sad matress in the corner, morning light was beginning to stream through the blinds of her window. She rested beneath me, dining on my lips as I did her's, bodies slowly rolling to the motions of instinct. Was I lucky? I wasn't the most handsome of men. No, I was content, and I felt myself growing a little more fond of the silly little art girl.
Interesting turn of events indeed...