Johanna Crane-Heaven help you.
Arkham Asylum was creepy in the sunshine, unnerving on a rainy day, and the gateway to Hell at night.
Well, Hell's waiting room, anyway. Hell itself was in the basement, in a room that had been locked ever since Jonathan Crane had been committed to his own asylum. That room had been his laboratory, and nobody was stupid (or brave) enough to go in there and clean it out.
These days, the only time those heavy doors were pushed open was during a breakout. Or, occasionally, in the middle of the night.
Like tonight.
This room had once been the boiler room, back when Arkham had been a proper hospital and not this dying beast. These days, it was cold and dark, the only sounds being the dripping of the leaky pipes, the squeaking of the mice, and (if one listened very closely) the screams of prior victims.
Arkham was a very absorbent location.
Cobwebs clung to the tables, coating cracked vials and old syringes with dead insects. The notebooks that had once been here were long gone, tucked safely away in a bookshelf in an unknown lair. Dead mice lay in a dark corner, far from the door, well away from the swinging light bulbs.
This had never been a pleasant room.
Scarecrow left the dust alone-he wasn't here for science, and it added to the atmosphere. After pinpointing a soft scuttling as coming from the corner with the dead mice, he picked his way over and gathered a fat, hairy spider into his hands. Perfect for his little arachnophobe.
He secured the creature in an old bottle before melting back into shadows to wait for his prey.
Soon enough, there was the sound of running and a man's voice called, "Get back here!"
The doors creaked open enough to let a small figure slip inside. A minute later, a larger figure-his victim-burst in, wheezing and coughing at the dust. Allergies? Best to take that into account, then.
"Hello?"
He stole along the wall, keeping out of the light, and sidled up alongside the guard. Patience, patience…spiders never caught flies by rushing at them, tempting though it was.
"Hello? Is someone in here?"
He stepped into the room.
And the Scarecrow struck.
The guard had no hope-spindly though he may have been, Scarecrow had had practice subduing unwilling help. All it ever took was getting one arm around the neck and pressing his lovely glove (how had he ever survived without it?) against the wrist or the throat.
"Shh, shh. There's nothing to fear."
The guard stopped struggling at once. Scarecrow could feel his pulse against his fingers, feel the frantic wheezing. Asthma, maybe. Hm.
"We've been waiting for you." he hissed. "It's been ever so long since we got to play."
"Please…Crane…"
"Jonny-boy's not here right now."
"I-I…"
"Hush little baby, don't you cry." He trailed his needle down the man's cheek. "Scarecrow's gonna sing you a lullaby."
The man was crying now, pleading to be released and swearing that he wouldn't say anything.
"Promises, promises. Jonny makes 'em all the time. Never keeps 'em, either."
Since when have I broken a promise to you?
You promised not to get us caught, and here we are.
I'd hardly call one promise 'all the time'.
WELL IT FEELS LIKE IT.
Teenage girls…
HISSSS.
Did you just hiss at me?
Maybe.
Jonny would have facepalmed if he'd had the ability. Too bad.
He wrestled his new toy into a cobwebbed chair, patted around for an inhaler, and found it in the man's back pocket.
"There. Now you won't die. This won't hurt unless you thrash, and even then it'll only bruise."
"Please, Crane, don't do this…"
"There is no Crane." Scarecrow petted the man's face, relishing in his attempt to jerk away. "Shh, shh. There's no reason to act like a child."
It wasn't time for the injection yet. First he had to introduce his little pet.
"I brought you a friend." he said, picking up the bottle. "Look at it. Eight legs, all to hug you and caress you and poke around inside your mouth."
The guard was crying now, rocking and crying and starting to wheeze. Scarecrow frowned. Inhaler or spider? Decisions, decisions.
Spider, he decided. If the man's breathing problems made it difficult for him to scream, he'd deal with it then. Or maybe not-might be interesting to see someone trying to scream and unable to manage it.
He opened the bottle and shook the spider onto the man's hair.
That alone resulted in a long, low wail and a frantic attempt to get the spider off. And now it was time for the injection.
He gripped the man's wrist and jabbed one needle into the tanned skin there. It would take a few minutes, so he may as well give him his inhaler. Just to be sure.
It didn't do very much for the wheezing. Jonny wondered if there would be a reaction to the toxin. Who cared?
Then came the screams.
They were slightly raspy and weak, but they were enjoyable all the same. Scarecrow laid his hand against the man's throat, feeling the vibrations there. Mm. Perfect.
Nice tone. A little weak, but that's to be expected.
Shut up, I'm trying to listen.
You have no class.
Nope.
The vibrations were weakening as his breathing worsened. Alas. All good things must come to an end.
There were few things more boring than watching somebody die of an asthma attack, and he had to be back in his cell anyway.
He picked up a rusty scalpel, ignoring Jonny's wines about where had that thing been, and made a quick, deep slice across the man's throat.
The screams turned to gurgles, and then the gurgles turned to blood dripping onto the floor.
Jonathan Crane removed the mask, put on his glasses, and reached up to turn off the light above his workspace. That would teach this idiot that mocking him was never a good idea.
"Thank you for luring him down here."
"Sure, love."
They could feasibly risk an escape, but it was cold outside and there was no reason to bother.
"I think I'll just leave him down here for the time being. They'll find him soon enough."
"Mm."
He turned off the last light and they left the room, leaving the door open just a crack.
Just enough to draw someone inside.
The spider, finding that it was now on a stable surface, scuttled down and retreated to the corner with the dead mice to clean itself.
All was quiet.
THE END