Atychiphobia

by Wise-One-of-Gotham

Happiness comes and goes, and anger's only for a while. But fear... Fear is always here.

6. Reasons

6. Reasons

"No! We can't eat here! Their chicken nuggets taste like cardboard! And that's an insult to cardboard!"

"Well, Edward, if you can think of another place that is open at 3 o'clock in the morning, I would be happy to..."

"MacRonald's!"

"We're eating here," Scarecrow said firmly, turning the car into the parking lot.

The Riddler pouted, crossing his arms. But, his pouting was short-lived. "Can we at least rob the place?"

The Scarecrow looked at him like he was an idiot. Ha! As if! Edward Nigma - an idiot? "It is a fast food restaurant, Edward. And, not a popular one, either. There is no money to be made. What is the point?"

"I want to leave a riddle for the Bat!"

"You honestly think he is going to investigate a fast food restaurant robbery?"

"If we're involved, yes. He will." Edward tapped his fingers on the dashboard, waiting for Jonathan Crane to agree. "What's the matter? Scared?"

"Edward..."

"No, of course you're not scared! But, just think of all those people in there! The workers! Think of how terrified they'll be to see you! You're, like... Like, the God of Fear! Don't you want to scare some people? That's what you live for!"

"..." Jonathan turned the steering wheel, parking the car across three different parking spots. "If you leave a riddle behind that leads the Bat to us, and we're back in Arkham before this week lets out, Edward, I swear..."

Edward grabbed his cane, joyfully jumping out of the car. He then straightened his tie and hair. "Wait! I forgot my hat!"

Jonathan was pulling his mask over his head, trying to make certain that the gas mask tubes were a little bit crooked. "Forgot where? In the helicopter?"

"No! It must still be back at Arkham! I can't go in this place! I'm not presentable!"

"For the third time, it is a fast food restaurant."

"Oh my God, I just remembered about that breakout from Blackgate!"

"Edward, stop. You are experiencing post-breakout guilt trauma."

The Riddler blinked. Now that was something he'd never heard of before. Stupid psychology... No, no, wait - there was nothing he'd never heard of! It was all coming back to him! He had heard it somewhere! Yes, of course he had! "Oh, yes, I've heard of that."

"I don't know where from. Considering I just made that up."

"...You... must only think you've made it up. It exists. I'm sure of it."

The Scarecrow rested an arm on the hood of the car. "Did you know there is no name given to the phobia of being wrong?"

"Of course," Edward instantly lied. Then he reasoned, "It's probably linked to a more general phobia."

"Indeed," Jonathan answered. "It is." He stared for a moment at The Riddler.

"...Well, can we go, now? I'm not that hungry, after all. I can wait until breakfast."

"You certainly were not acting like you could wait ten minutes ago."

"The feeling passed. I'm fine, now. Let's just go." Edward glanced around, his cautious mind imagining that his father was lurking somewhere nearby... Of course, he couldn't let the Scarecrow notice. That would show vulnerability. And, when working with criminals... Vulnerability was dangerous. Edward opened the door to the car and got back inside.

Jonathan slowly took his mask off and got back into the car, as well. He started the car and pulled around the building and out of the parking lot. "Did you see that?"

"See what?," Edward asked, turning his head to look.

"Never mind. I thought I saw someone." The smallest trace of a smile crossed the Scarecrow's face.

Edward's eyes widened. "What did he look like?"

"I never said it was a 'he'."

"But, it was, wasn't it?" The Riddler's focus stayed on all potential hiding-spots after that. Every shadow and alleyway and bush and tree and trash can and postal box was a subject of absolute terror...

Jonathan fed off that terror. The Scarecrow wasn't used to working with other villains: he rarely ever did so. And, those times he had worked with others hadn't been pleasant experiences. There was absolutely nothing fulfilling about working with The Joker, for instance. The Joker was completely immune to fear gas and never seemed to experience fear at all. Then when Scarecrow made one tiny slip-up - really, it was only a little bit of poison - The Joker acted like all Hell had broken loose. Jonathan Crane did not much enjoy being beaten with a chair... But The Riddler... He was much different. Much, much different than most other villains. He was the kind of person who would jump every single time someone yelled 'Boo!'. He was the type who never had the guts to face anything that scared him. He was so very, very fearful. And, somehow, that made the fact that he was the most irksome, irrational, childish man Dr. Jonathan Crane had ever met... Well, that made it not matter quite as much. The fear was the important thing, after all.

"Jonathan! Something's in that bush! I saw it!"

"Yes, there is something there..." Jonathan slowed the car.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? IT COULD KILL US!"

Scarecrow didn't, for one second, think that whatever was in the bush was actually dangerous. But, he wasn't going to let Edward know that. "It's not me: the engine's going out." Despite what many people would think, the Scarecrow actually did have a sense of humor. Perhaps a cruel sense of humor, but it was a sense of humor, nonetheless.

"WHAT?" The look on Edward's face was worth the small lie. The arrogant, genius Riddler looked beyond horrified. He grabbed his cane, holding it at the ready, just as the creature in the bushes showed itself... Edward lowered the cane. "It's a... cat."

Jonathan frowned. Well, that little game didn't last long. "Oh, look, the engine's working again..."

"Wait!" The Riddler made a move to open the door. "That's not just any cat! I've seen it before!"

Scarecrow watched as Edward Nigma, a grown man dressed in a suit and tie, got out of the car and kneeled on the sidewalk.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty~..."

The cat remained where it was, its sleek, black coat shimmering beneath the streetlights. It licked its paw, ignoring The Riddler.

"Here, kitty, kitty, kitty~... Here, kitty~..." Edward inched closer to it, holding out his hand.

"What, exactly, are you doing?," Jonathan asked.

"I'm calling the cat. Here, kitty, kitty, kitty~..."

"Alright, let me revise my statement: why are you doing what you are doing?"

"Jonathan," Edward said, looking away from the feline for a moment. "That's not just a cat. That cat belongs to Catwoman."

"If you ask her, every cat in this town belongs to her."

"No, I mean, that's her pet cat."

"Do you really think that Catwoman would allow her pet cat to roam the streets of Gotham on its own?"

"Maybe it got out. We have to catch it!"

"Yes, let's make as many enemies as we possibly can in our first few hours out of Arkham."

"I didn't say we were going to hurt it! Just catch it! We could take it to the hideout, hold it for ransom! Here, kitty, kitty, kitty~... Go stand behind it, Jonathan! We'll trap it!"

The Scarecrow considered doing just that, hoping that it would make Edward shut up for a little while. But, when he prepared himself to move, a searing pain coursed through his gunshot wound. So, instead, he stayed precisely where he was. "I don't like cats."

Unsurprised, The Riddler asked, "Do you like anything?"

"Fear."

"Doesn't count."

"Then no."

"Of course not," Edward muttered, taking another half-step toward the black cat. The feline looked up at him with large, yellow eyes. "Here, kitty, kitty..." He reached out for her.

The next thing Jonathan Crane heard were The Riddler's yowls of pain. Jonathan saw a flash of black as the cat dashed into the bushes again, and Edward returned to the car, pulling the door closed behind him. The sleeve of his green suit-jacket was torn at the end, and a few reddish scratches covered his right hand.

"...I just realized I forgot my mask and my gloves, too. And, I'm going to need a new jacket."

The Scarecrow shifted the car into gear and continued down the road.

"And, I don't like cats, either. For the record. Or any animals, really."

Jonathan turned the car down a small city-street. "...I don't mind birds."

"Really? Hm. A bit ironic, don't you think? You know, since you're the Scarecrow and whatnot..." The Riddler trailed off. "But, of course, you don't find anything funny, so..." He sighed, nursing his hand. "How far off is this hideout? And, you said it was old... You don't think Batman already knows about it, do you?"

"Does that matter? He will find it eventually, anyhow, and, considering who you are, he will, most likely, find it sooner rather than later."

Edward grimaced. "...I don't do that on purpose, you know. The riddles... I can't help it."

"Reall-y?," asked Jonathan, pretending he didn't already know, setting up the bait that he knew someone like Edward Nigma couldn't resist.

But, to Edward, it seemed perfectly normal that someone should ask about his obsession. After all, he was the living enigma! He was a complete mystery who kept everyone in the dark. No amount of psychoanalysis could give up a thing about his life! Why, just listen to his interviews with Dr. Leland! He never gave her anything to work with! "Yes, I've tried to stop it before; I just can't. When I began, it was really nothing like this... But, after my first time in Arkham, I just... I really am crazy, like they say. But, you can be crazy and be a genius... right?"

"Of course," answered Dr. Jonathan Crane.

Edward nodded, comforted. "But you aren't, are you? Crazy, like the rest of us... That's why no one wants to treat you."

"If I weren't crazy, why would I be in Arkham?"

"Because if you were sent to Blackgate, then you'd have to go on trial! You see, I've decoded it - their system. No one wants you dead, and if you went on trial as a sane person, that's exactly what you'd be - dead and buried! I'm right, aren't I?" The Riddler smiled triumphantly.

"Why, of course," crooned the doctor, who actually was taking little interest in Edward's theory. It was the fact that Edward asked whether he was right or not at the end of every statement that warranted attention. That showed fear. But, it is always best to build someone up before you send him crashing down. "You're always right: you've said so yourself."

"Of course I know I'm right! And, obviously, you know, too! Why does no one else see it is my question!" He slammed a fist onto the dashboard. "Riddle me this, Gotham!," he shouted, looking angrily out the window. "Why does no one understand? Why doesn't anybody appreciate my genius?"

"It's painful, isn't it? To be ostracized by people who have no right..."

"Exactly! They don't have a right to do this to me! To parade me around on their news like some... some lunatic! I'm Edward Nigma! The Riddler! A genius! The genius! I am the most intelligent lifeform on this planet! But, do they see it? No! No matter how hard I try, no one appreciates my brilliance; not even my own father tried to understand me..."

"Go on," encouraged Dr. Crane, the experienced, professional psychiatrist.

"He used to beat me... Called me 'liar' and 'cheater'... All I ever wanted to do was earn some respect. I just wanted my father to be proud of me! ...Puzzles are the only fairness in the world, you know. Those who are smart enough will reap the rewards of success, and those who are not will fail! That is justice! That's how life should be!"

The car slowed to a halt, and Dr. Crane said, "Thank you, Edward, that will be all for today."

The Riddler turned his head to stare at the man in the driver's seat. The realization of what had just happened hit him slowly - but, of course, not as slowly as it would have hit a non-genius man. "...You just...?" He shook his head, letting out a hollow laugh. "Perhaps they should let you out of your cell to return to psychiatric work, Doctor." He flattened his hair. "If you can fool Edward Nigma - and I'm not saying you fooled me because I knew exactly what was going on the whole time, but that's beside the point - into giving so much away, you can certainly get through to any of those far less-brilliant minds!"

"I have no interest in such work. My only interest is fear." The Scarecrow opened the door, getting out of the car. He winced as soon as he put pressure onto his left leg.

Edward smirked on the outside. On the inside, he was fuming. How had he not noticed that he had been giving so much away? And, to the Scarecrow, no less! He stepped out of the car as well, deciding to take the opportunity to tear Jonathan down. "Are fear and pain interconnected, Professor? Because you certainly seem to be enjoying that wound. Not a single complaint about it! Did you think you could hide it, and it would go away?"

Scarecrow acted as if he hadn't heard anything but the first question. "Actually, Edward, they are very closely connected, in that pain often occurs before fear." He could sense the hostility beneath Edward's calm, outward appearance. But, if anyone could break Edward Nigma, it could only be The Good Doctor himself. "Perhaps you need further explanation? Take yourself, for instance. Your father beat you when you were a child every time you did badly in class - a little bit of information that you decided to omit in your story. He hit you every time you did something wrong, every time you made less than a perfect score on assignments... It made you fear doing badly. You began doing everything you could, including cheating, to do better in class so that you could succeed. You became afraid of failure. A condition that we in the world of psychology call 'atychiphobia'."

The Riddler placed a hand on the top of the car, the corner of his lip twitching furiously. But, Edward Nigma knew very well that the only person who would ever be able to destroy his long-perfected sense of self-control was Batman. So, his voice remained stable: "And here I am thinking that you had 'no interest' in psychology."

"That is fear. Which I always have interest for."

Edward rolled his eyes. And, the Scarecrow thought that he, Edward Nigma, was annoying! Jonathan was the one who never seemed bothered by anything! ...Anything but the Bat. Batman. The true enemy, the ultimate annoyance... "Alright, so you've analyzed me. Does it matter? Am I pretending to be something I'm not? No! I'm still a genius! I'm not you; I don't try to be the Master of Fear. I'll gladly allow you to hold that title and will not fight you for it. I am the Prince of Puzzles, and that's all I ever try to be. So, can we please get back to work?"

"Work?"

"Yes! I have riddles to write, and I assume you have chemicals to mix, or something of that nature. So that we can be prepared when these other people get out of the picture..."

"Other people? You suggest we wait until The Joker is back in Arkham?"

"Well, yes, him and all of those unimportant Blackgate fugitives..."

"That could take weeks."

"I think it'll be worth it. I mean, we want Gotham's attention, don't we? We can't strike while those others are still at large! We'll be all but ignored! Can you imagine doing all that hard work to break out of Arkham, then being overshadowed by other criminals, and still having to go back? Why, that hardly seems fair!"

Jonathan walked down the sidewalk for a few seconds before disappearing down an alley.

Edward followed, watching the ground so as not to step in any puddles or anything else that might threaten the cleanliness of his suit... "By the way, Jonathan, you're bleeding. There's blood all over your pants. You're going to have to get that treated, or you'll just bleed to death. Now, I'm no doctor, but I'm betting you'll have to get that bullet removed surgically..."

"Well, I am a doctor, and, actually, removing the bullet often causes more harm than good."

"I'll bet you my half of the money from our next heist that you'll have to have that bullet removed."

"I don't gamble."

"Really?," The Riddler asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because I distinctly remember reading in the papers about a criminal who called himself Scarecrow a few years back, who was using his mastery of fear to scare some athletes, then bet against their teams to earn cash..."

"That was not gambling. I knew that they would lose. I simply call that an investment with very high, fairly immediate return profit."

"But, I thought you were confident in your skills as a doctor, as well. Having doubts?"

"Very well. I will bet my half of the money that this bullet stays exactly where it is." Jonathan stopped in front of a metal door. He entered a code into a small keypad beside the doorhandle, then pushed the door open.

Edward clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "That's pathetic. I'm going to have to work on that security system."

Jonathan walked into the building, not bothering to turn on the lights.

Edward crept along behind him, feeling the wall for a light switch. He finally found one and flipped it. Nothing happened. "Did you forget to pay the power bill or something?"

"The building has been abandoned for years. And, I believe it would draw attention if the power company suddenly got a payment from Dr. Jonathan Crane, telling them to return power to an old warehouse out in the middle of Gotham's most crime-ridden area."

"I can't work in the dark!"

"Oh? So you are afraid of the dark..."

"Stop it." Edward pressed a button on his cane, then lifted it up to use as a flashlight. "When was the last time this place was cleaned?"

"Never since I have been here."

"I can tell." Edward scrunched up his nose. "What is that smell? I think something's died and is rotting in here..."

"Most likely," Scarecrow said, walking farther into the blackness of the room.

The end of Edward's cane lit up a workdesk, on top of which were various small animals - rats, squirrels, mice - that had been mutilated almost beyond recognition. Pieces of fur and dried blood and feathers littered the desktop. Edward nearly gagged. "God, this place is awful! I'm ready to leave."

"Please do."

The Riddler directed the light to the floor so that he could watch where he was stepping. A large amount of straw covered the floor, along with papers, boxes, books, and... "What's this powder-stuff?"

"Why don't you touch some and find out?"

Understood. No touching any powder-stuff... "I'm hiring a maid, first thing in the morning."

"Yes, I'm sure you'll find someone willing to clean this place up."

"I'm The Riddler. No one would dare say no to me."

Scarecrow pulled back a raggedy curtain, letting a bit of moonlight into the room. He reached up, opening the window that the curtain had been covering.

"What's this? Have we just discovered the only window in this whole dark, filthy building?"

"No. There is a window in the back room."

"Lovely. Two whole windows - both with a great view of the abandoned building next door, no doubt - along with gorgeous concrete walls and flooring - that are only slightly tarnished with blood, chemicals, and God-knows-what-else. What a piece of real estate."

Scarecrow somehow avoided all of the random boxes and pieces of equipment lying on the floor as he returned to the entrance.

"Jonathan? Where are you going?"

"To drive that car off a bridge."

"Oh, okay," Edward said, as if the idea of driving a car off a bridge and into the Gotham waterways was a perfectly normal chore. "Pick up some groceries on the way back, would you? I'm starving."

"I doubt I'll find the time."

"Fine, then. I'll go shopping myself. Needed to find a maid, anyway. Oh, and, before you go, we need to plan out exactly what place we are going to hit first. You know, so I can start thinking of riddles."

"Gotham State University."

"A school? What could we possibly gain from that? Don't we need money?"

"Says the man who wanted to hit a fast food place," Scarecrow breathed, only loud enough for himself to hear. "You seem to think you have plenty."

"Plenty of money for me, maybe. And, if you're counting on me to fund all of your operations, then I suggest that you not use all of your spare time to try to scare and/or insult me." Edward followed Jonathan outside, closing the door to the hideout. "And, another thing: we're going to be all over the morning news."

"No," Jonathan said. "The First National Bank of Gotham is going to be all over the morning news."

"What? Why?"

Jonathan pointed west, toward the center of the city, where a large, black-grey smoke cloud was filling the sky. "Because it's on fire."

Edward turned to watch. "You don't say... Hm. Joker must be busy tonight."

"At most, we'll be on the fifth page of the newspaper."

"We'll be on the news somewhere! Batman's bound to find out! Then he'll come looking for us!"

"Or just me."

"Why just you?"

"Because someone like Batman is, at least, intelligent enough to know that I would off you within the first few hours of any sort of partnership."

"...What?"

"Fair warning: I am very well-educated in all chemicals. And, many chemicals are highly poisonous... Fatal, even."

The Riddler's hand clutched the top of his cane. "...You're joking."

"Yes, because I 'joke'."

Edward forced his mouth into a fake smile. "You're just trying to scare me."

"Of course I am. That doesn't mean I'm not giving a truthful warning, though."

"...You're just trying to scare me and make me paranoid. It's not working, Jonathan."

"Isn't it?"

"No! It's not! Just leave already!"

The Scarecrow opened the cardoor. "Don't drink anything you've let out of your sight for a moment."

"Get in the car!" Edward shook his head as the Scarecrow started the car and disappeared down the road. He took a deep breath, leaning on his question-mark cane. Now where's the nearest place to start looking for a maid? He picked the cane up, twirling it in the air for a few seconds, before placing it back on the ground and walking down the sidewalk, eyes peeled for any place of interest. His mind was racing with ideas to clue Batman in on the Gotham State University operation... Perhaps a number... I wonder what the address is... No, no, not a number... Just a clue... Well, that was the place that Jonathan was first fired from... Fire? Hmmm... Back to the first fire... No! I've got it... With his first riddle complete, his mind settled for other thoughts... Mainly those last words of Jonathan's. "...He was just joking... I'm sure of it."