"Stand by!"

A buzz resonated through the room, the sound like a nest of hornets stirred up by an errant stone. The hunched figure of a man looked up when the locks of the massive steel cell door clattered open, one after the other after the other, the same repetitive pattern he had to listen to every day…

Buzzing.

Lock one…click

Pause.

Lock two…click

Lock three…click

Pause.

Lock four, aaaand…

The door swung open on cue and the man gave a gentle laugh.

"Lunch," the guard growled, extending a food tray consisting of stale bread, some peas, and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy…or dog food. The platter rattled as it fell atop the man's lap, and the guard snorted in disgust. "Enjoy."

"You're late."

"I ain't late."

Twin blue eyes gazed up at the guard, the color of glacial water…ice…blue diamonds. Their beauty was marred by the ever present shadows darkening his eyes, and the cold cruelty that radiated from the very pits of those soulless orbs.

"Two minutes, forty-eight seconds."

"That ain't late, you idiot," the guard replied brashly, pointing a stubby finger at the food. "An' if you wanna keep complainin', I can just take that stuff away from ya, and you won't have anything to eat at all!"

The eyes searched the guard's face, studying everything from the scruffy goatee to the unshaven stubble to the worn, tired look in his face. "Grant…you look like hell," the hunched man spoke in a quiet tone, a mixture of a hiss and a whisper, like a child telling a juicy secret. The guard rolled his eyes and turned without another word, swearing profusely beneath his breath.

"You said the same last time. I know I look like hell. I have you nutjobs to thank for that," he snapped, turning back to face the man and unlocking his restraints.

"We just love your company."

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." Grant pointed to the food. "Eat, I'll be back in half an hour."

The man said nothing, only watched with the same freezing glare he held for any human that entered his domain. The cell door slammed with a thunderous CLANG!

He sat in the silence, looking down at his hands, obscured by the extra long sleeves of the straightjacket. Tentative fingers, skeletal and white, worked through the fabric, gripping the piece of stale bread and bringing it up to his trembling lips.

He never desired food when he was in his right mind. He would go days without a solid meal, relying on power bars and salads to aide in satisfying the growl in his stomach.

But after he lost it all…all the self-deprivation he thought made him a better, more focused man seemed trivial. Useless. After all, he was…human.

The man dove into the hard piece of bread, setting on it hungrily like an unfed dog. He didn't bother with utensils now, not caring when he used his covered hands to shovel food in his mouth. His eyes closed, a euphoric feeling of content filling his belly and his mind.

People would walk through the halls and see him through the small window, they'd see a broken man, a useless lump of flesh and muscles and bones, a mind shattered by the grip of insanity. They saw a monster, unabashed by his own ideals, his uncaring for anyone or anything.

The man stopped midway through his mad feeding frenzy and snapped his head up, his eyes focused on the rectangular window on the door. A familiar set of eyes stared back. They were darker blue than his own, staring at him with a hatred expected from this man. He was the new DA of Gotham. He was a man who hated anyone in the city who did anything remotely illegal. He was Harvey Dent.

And Harvey Dent hated Jonathan Crane the most, because it was he who put Rachel Dawes into Arkham.

Crane's lips turned up in a satisfied, if not smug, little grin. He held up a hand and waggled his fingers in a mocking wave. The eyes narrowed with more animosity and soon disappeared from sight. Jonathan watched the empty window and gave a nod, slow, still smiling.

"Right on time as usual, Mr. Dent," he said quietly before picking up his fork and placing it to his lips, finishing his meal in a more restrained way than earlier.

----------------------------------

"I don't know why they have to feed the guy," Harvey snapped, kicking his feet up onto his desk and staring at Lieutenant Gordon. "He doesn't deserve a meal. And if he does, it should be one of those last meal deals."

Gordon didn't reply, but gave a shrug of agreement. "Hey, I hate the fact he's getting off the hook for hurting your friend. She was a good attorney."

"The hell she was. She was a good kid. Wish she was still around," the younger man sighed, rubbing a hand over his weary face. Handsome, with warm features and wavy brown hair kept out of his eyes and neatly fixed on his head. His eyes were deep, like the dark recesses of the ocean, and held a maturity, as well as a childish playfulness. "What do you got for me, Jimbo?" He asked with a grin.

Gordon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. The nickname the young man gave him stuck, and he always felt foolish when he was called that. The older officer placed a file on the man's desk. "Not much. So far it's 3 more dead. We have all the best officers out in the field looking for him. But he's covered his tracks."

"Not well, either." Dent flipped open the folder and stared. Four playing cards, face up. Each bearing the emblem of the "Joker". "So…he's got a name, according to the media. Joker. How original."

"I've heard worse."

"And this guy kills people with…laughter?"

The lieutenant nodded again. "Not the most conventional way…"

"Well it gives me the creeps." Harvey pushed the cards aside to look at the photos beneath. Three people, two young men and one woman, all grinning manic smiles at the camera, eyes wide and staring, as if looking straight at Harvey himself.

"And…no one can find him?"

"Not even Batman." Gordon flinched as Harvey gave a short, loud laugh.

"The batman…right. He's too busy playing dress up and flying around the city to be of any help."

"He's brought in a lot of criminals Harvey. A lot more than we can bring in alone." He hesitated a moment before adding, "He brought in Crane."

This sent the younger man into a broody silence before he moved to shove the file in his desk. "Until he turns to the dark side, helping those he promised to stop…until then, I'll take your word for it, Gordon. Thanks for the help."

Gordon nodded and turned to leave, but not before throwing a glance at Harvey over his shoulder. "Hey, Harvey, don't…don't get too wrapped up in this stuff, okay? I'd hate to see you run yourself to the ground."

Harvey leaned back into his chair, waving the lieutenant off. "Don't worry about me, Jimbo. I'm a big boy. Besides, I go it all under control." He watched as the older man disappeared and waited, his eyes focused on the door. He expected Rachel to waltz by, adding on to Gordon's words of caution. He had gone to see how she was progressing at the asylum. According to them, she was getting worse. Watching her rock on the floor, her eyes wide and filled with never-ending terror, sent an angry thrill through his body. The monster who did that to her was just down the corridor, stuffing his face with food.

That's why Harvey took up the job of DA. He wouldn't let people like Crane destroy anyone else.

With that, he pulled out a coin, a silver dollar he kept in his pocket, and flipped it with a rhythmic ping in the air. It calmed him. It helped him think.

Furthermore, it got his mind off of Crane and back on the file he needed to work on for his next court case.


Author's Note: Hey guys! Back again with the sequel to 'Mind of a Scarecrow'. I hope you guys enjoy this story, as I really have no idea where it's gonna go, so it'll be a surprise for us all ;) It's gonna have Scarecrow, Harvey, maybe a little Joker.

Enjoy the story, and tell me what you think! I love to hear your guys' opinions.