Jonathan Crane awoke with a nasty crick in his neck in the darkened makeshift theatre with a pimply teenaged usher staring down at him disapprovingly. His mind was cloudy for a few seconds as he tried to piece together why exactly his head was lying on something with the texture of a brill-o pad before it all came rushing back to him.

"Sir, the movie is over. You're going to have to neck with your girlfriend elsewhere."

Crane's eyes flew open in indignation and he glared at the boy who dared speak to him in such a manner.

He might have been a bit more intimidating if he'd actually possessed the ability to move his head out of its terribly uncomfortable position, but it seemed as though he'd pinched a nerve and was unable to stop using Techie's head for support.

Well, he could extract his arm from around her shoulders, at any rate (how had that happened?) and continued to glare at the whelp. "I can assure you, boy, we were not necking."

"Regardless, sir, the film is over, everyone else is gone, you'll have to vacate the theatr--"

He stood abruptly and towered over the youth, the effect only slightly ruined by his neck's strange pose and the usher took an involuntary step back.

"If I want to continue inhabiting this fleabag tent until dawn, I will do so."

The teenager drew himself up to his full height (roughly eight inches shorter than Crane) and spoke as levelly as possible. "Sir, don't make me call security."

"Please do," he replied pleasantly, grimacing as he forced his neck to straighten out with an angry 'POP!'.

"I will, sir," the boy threatened, but Crane could see he was getting anxious.

A sleepy yawn sounded from behind him and Techie made that half-purr, half-growl noise she did whenever she stretched out. "Want me to break his knees? I didn't bring my pipe with me, but I'm sure I can improvise." She smacked her jaw a few times and rubbed her face, coming back to the world of consciousness fully.

"That won't be necessary," he replied easily, whipping out his mask and slipping it on in one smooth motion.

For all of the three seconds it took for Crane to give the usher a faceful of fear toxin, his expression went from slightly defiant to that of recognition and then finally, his features crumpled and he wilted.

Crane paid no attention to the CRASH that echoed behind him as chairs started toppling like dominos and just started for the tent's exit. He cast a single backwards glance and found that Techie had been alert enough to scramble away from the cloud of fear toxin, one of her sleeves held over her nose and mouth to avoid exposure, thus revealing herself to be the cause of the chairs collapsing on one another.

He left the 'theatre', removing his mask as he went and wasn't surprised in the least when, a few moments later, Techie caught up with him and grabbed him by the sleeve, yanking sharply. The sound of the metal chairs still hitting one another and crashing to the ground behind them forced her to shout in his face.

(Though he suspected she might've done that without the background noise.)

"What the hell was THAT?" she screeched angrily.

He looked at her innocently. "Is there a problem?"

"You could've given me a little warning!"

"About?"

"The fact that you were going to go toxin happy! I could've been hit!"

"And?"

She swatted him on the arm. "Jonathan!"

He sighed melodramatically. "It's not as if I wouldn't have given you the antidote…eventually."

There was a spectacular BOOM that cut off whatever reply Techie had been preparing and they both turned in time to see the tent they'd just been in collapse.

She glared at him. "You see what you made me do?!"

"Yes…you brought down the house. Brava." He brought his hands up and mockingly applauded her.

She swatted his arm again. "I don't suppose it matters to you that the Captain might've still been in there, does it?!"

"Strike me once more, woman," he said warningly, not needing to finish the threat.

She looked apologetic, but still distressed. "But the CAPTAIN!"

Crane released a long suffering sigh. "The usher said the theatre was empty with the exception of the two of us. She obviously already left."

"Captain wouldn't abandon us," Techie said with conviction. "Where could she be?"

As if he cared?

"Follow the nearest senseless path of destruction and I'm sure you'll come across her sooner or later." He smirked and gestured at the fallen tent. "That is, the nearest senseless path of destruction that you aren't responsible for."

A blood curdling scream rent the air, startling both of them and a WHOOSH of hot air hit them in the face as a pillar of flame shot up in the distance.

"I stand corrected. We follow the nearest path of flamey death."