Disclaimer: I don't own Jonathan Crane or anything B-man related. C:
a/n: I APOLOGIZE BEFOREHAND ABOUT MY FAILURE TO WRITE ANY CHARACTERS OTHER THAN JONATHAN CRANE. I'm just no good at it. I swear it is my own mental incompetence.
Ohya. I never mentioned. This whole story pretty much is dedicated to Todd, my mind twin because without Todd I wouldn't have found the rough outline of the whole damn thing. Many much thanksen. The chapters are going to be longer (probably) now (which means updating takes a bit, but I don't have a specific word amount for each chapter so pah). The first one was just to see if people liked the idea. I'm awful like that. Also, I go about the Jonathan-Scarecrow thing like Scarecrow is Jon's daemon, or subconscious. Ya'know. Because I've realized it is just so much better that way. And it brings about this queer sense of peace to my mind. Er, and, ah, ek, the genres it says in the little thingie above all this aren't the only ones. It's usually those, but has others in it. 'Cause otherwise it would be b-oring.
T'okay, enough of me, now enjoy the story.
There was a great, thunderous wall that drowned out all other sound. Digging his claws into the sleek, nightmare black seat, wide-blue eyes staring around with panic. Fur flung out in all directions, little spears of a not-so-deep black giving him a feral appearance. A sharp turn caused Jonathan to go sliding into the side- door?- of the machine, dragging bits of hide with him. The seat he was frozen on, was no longer such a "perfect" seat. Twenty long slashes now worked themselves along the butt-cushion. Vision reeling, images distorted and blurred, he shook his head frantically to clear his mind. It made it worse, a ringing in his ears now joined the roar of the vehicle. Heart pounding furiously in his chest, he stood paralyzed for moments longer.
Curious to see what Batman's reaction was to this whole affair, Jonathan's eyes fixed on the crusader.
It didn't even look like he had noticed the cat's predicament, which irked the ex-doctor. 'Dammit',' he hissed at the cape wearing vigilante, 'You pick up a cat, and you don't even take care of it! God, I would hate to see what happened to your childhood pets- If you had any.' Didn't even look his way. Now that wasn't good. Not for bats, anyways. Jonathan didn't know what trouble he could do as a cat, but he would make it hell for the bat.
With a cautious air, and a little 'mewp', he observed the bat as he took out a cellphone that was ringing- what was that ring tone? He didn't know it, and it was damn unusual. Jonathan decided it didn't matter because it seemed this was an important call.
"What? You still haven't found his body, or any trace of him? But he's been missing for three months," Batman questioned, "Are you positive there has no been trace of him?"
Jonathan could make out the garbled voice of Gordon on the other end, but it was incomprehensible.
"Dammit," Batman growled, "So we just presume he is dead?"
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
That he could make out, and his ears twitched faintly at the effort. The only question was, who were they talking about? Who was missing? Who was presumed dead? Who had they no trace of? Frustrated he could not figure anything out, Jonathan lay down on the seat, tail curling around his side. Having gotten used to, at least a little bit, to the extremities of being in moving vehicles while not a human, he was able to lay down without flipping out. It still made his heart race in a dangerous fashion, but he could cope with it.
Off-road was unexpected. Being thrown up and down and not strapped to a seat was an interesting experience. His paws were aching from the grip on the leather seat to keep from flying, claws probably dislodged in places. If he had ever undervalued what cats had to go through before, he no longer did. Cats had hell dealing with cars. For a reason now, it seemed. The off-road experience went by quick, and then a roar reached his sensitive ears.
Flattened against his skull, they still picked up the gargantuan sound that crept forth like a rumble from a great sleeping beast's stomach. Ashamed of being afraid of noises, he kept like that even as the batmobile hit solid ground, and halted to a stop. Trembling, shaking like it was in the negatives outside, the cat refused to remove himself from his curled up position for several minutes, and vain attempts from Batman. While Batman was getting himself situated, or something, Jon took the time to soothe his frayed nerves.
That was unusual, Scarecrow stated, whiskers twitching faintly on his queer looking face- it held an edge of the mask to it that was worn when Scarecrow was in control. As an after thought his subconscious- Jon believed he had read that the proper term was daemon- added, I assume the feline instincts kick in over our human reasoning. We are so jumpy now.
Rolling his eyes, he answered dully, 'No, really? I hadn't guessed.'
There was an unusual silence on Scarecrow's part, and then a bubble of laughter burst forth. Kyahahaha! Kya- kya- kya- hahahaha! Look, look at who bat-freaking-man really is! They can't put two and two together? My word, people are truly imbeciles! Look you twit, it is hilarious!
Interested in what his daemonwas going on about, he turned his eyes towards where Batman had been doing whatever needed to be done- in this case changing into normal clothes. It took a few good seconds to actually kick in. 'Bruce Wayne!?' he sputtered, body shaking with laughter, 'Why that's just- just, you're right! Hilar-i-ous.'
Scarecrow huffed, Don't do that again. That 'hilar-i-ous' thing. It was... not befitting of your character.
Eyes snapping up, and the Scarecrow growing silent and staring up at Bruce as well as the playboy approached. There was a wary 'now-don't-scratch-me' look on his face, as if he had more experience with dealing with women than animals. Wait. That was probably correct. Great, just great. Here Jonathan was, having to deal with a man, a rich man, who probably did not know how to properly take care of a feline. Huffing, he sent a glare in the direction of the Scarecrow, before flipping his blue eyes back on Bruce, who was smiling.
"Now then," the playboy muttered, "What shall I call you?"
Call him? Call him? Oh no. The dark-eyed man had better not call him by a gay name like 'Fluffy' or 'Patches', something along those lines. Anything but. If he did, oh if he did, Jon was going to claw his face off. Slowly and painfully. See how many women he gets after that.
"I think," the tone was playful and brought Jon's rapt attention, "Crane."
Head snapping up, Jonathan stared at Bruce. He couldn't have figured out, could he?
"Hmm, you react to that name? Then I guess that was your name before."
'I hate games where one plus one,' Jonathan grumbled, 'Equals three.'
He just barely noticed Bruce putting the dark collar around his neck.
-
"A cat, Master Wayne?" Alfred inquired, glancing at the disgruntled looking feline with a look of apprehension. There were ways where he was glad that he wasn't going to be Bruce's only company, but bringing home a stray cat? It was odd, even for the billionaire.
"Yes, is that going to be a problem Alfred?" He sounded genuinely concerned, but they both knew Crane wasn't going anywhere soon.
"No, I'm just worried about what he will do to the upholstery," the butler replied, his generally sarcastic tone present.
"The upholstery?"
"Yes, Master Wayne, the upholstery."
Jonathan had lost interest in the conversation at that point, and seeing as he was going to be living in Wayne Manor from now on, had wandered off. Staring at the artwork that adorned the walls, the details in the construction of the home. One painting caught his attention the most- a dark, blurry landscape that a great, golden lion traversed. Large paws sinking into the earth, golden muzzle held up with pride. Wild red and gold mane flowing about its skull, eyes a sharp searching brown. Besides it, dark forms of small felines all having bright yellow eyes except for one- it had blue eyes.
Sudden panic overwhelmed him, and he fled. Tearing down the hallway in a direction he did not know until his paws touched cold tile. It was strange, almost as if he had seen the same painting somewhere, but a haze over his mind prevented remembrence of it. Shaking his head to rid himself of the panic, the feline looked around him. He was in a bathroom in colors of whites and pale blues. A large tub sunk into the floor, and a mirror covered a part of one wall.
With an urge to see what he looked like as a cat, he walked over to the large body mirror, and stared.
Then he blinked in confusion.
Hadn't he just seen himself as a cat?
Then why- why did he look human in the mirror?
Looking down, he saw that he still had paws. Looking into the mirror, he saw himself as a human- with dark cat ears and a tail?
It was odd, and if he was right, and what he was seeing was his human self, than he should have been nude. But, no. He was wearing a dark dress shirt, and skinny pants. The collar was there as well, wrapped around his neck, and his glasses were framing his blue eyes. Strange.
Holy shit, Scarecrow exclaimed, voicing both their thoughts.
'That,' Jonathan muttered, 'Is an understatement of the century.'
a/n; This took a bit to put up because I was debating whether or not to use the idea in the last part. Damn Ozmosis for showing me the manga My Cat Loki and its shota!catboy goodness. /:
Damn him.
Anyways, this story now apparently has fanart. O: Thanks Forest B for the one of kitty!Crane playing with Batman's cape. I love it lots. :3
Review, review, review!
Please, and thank you.