A
It had been a long year for Dr. Jonathan Crane, probably the hardest year of his life. His failure to anticipate the variable factors had driven him to rethink his plan. With Ra's Al Ghul dead, it had taken a little over a month to be able to repair the chain of contact with the League. Then once he had reestablished contact, there had been months of meticulous work gathering together what resources and contingencies he had left before he was a wanted man. And now, just shy of the anniversary of Fear Night, he could finally begin to reap what had taken so long to sow.
He had realized after his narrow escape, that being involved so directly left him exposed. That was how Brigid had caught on, though it had taken her a while to work out the details. All of the news reports had cleverly left her name out of every story they had done on the incident. Clearly, either she, or her superiors, had instructed Gotham P.D not to release any information about her involvement, and Jonathan knew why. They were hoping that by keeping her involvement a secret, it would be easier to select a jury that wouldn't be biased if they managed to arrest him. Jonathan knew that under normal circumstances her eyewitness testimony would be enough to put him away for life.
But, from what he had seen of the news the past few months, there was a hotshot prosecutor eyeing his potential trial. Harvey Dent was the newest District Attorney, and most of his fame had come from high profile cases. The newest D.A surely, by Crane's estimation, wasn't going to miss the opportunity to crucify him personally. They had fought to keep the F.B.I out of the city so far, it wasn't likely to change now with a D.A that had a hard time stepping out of the spotlight.
It was very clever, but this time Jonathan knew his adversaries. This time, he was playing the long con. It might take years, but that was of little consequence. Now he no longer had to maintain the façade of working at Arkham, more of his effort could be efficiently used to strategize. War, he mused, was not defined by a single battle in the span of a few hours. It was the effort of years of work.
Jonathan and his affiliates had started slowly, revisiting the cache of the fear toxin secretly, mixing it with different street narcotics and selling it. Because of his previous study on the subject while in the hospital, he knew that diluting the drug with opiates had a lasting effect on the brain, damaging its ability to properly moderate hormones. The end result was that anyone that took the drug would develop a severe mood disorder, most often accompanied by unexplainable bouts of rage or anxiety. He had burned through most of his mob contacts with the poisoned drug, minus Maroni, who he had intentionally avoided. Crane knew that Maroni, just like Falcone, had a habit of being irritatingly clever, and it was best to keep his presence a secret from the man. He didn't expect that Maroni would be so forgiving of him considering what had happened to his uncle.
So, on the night he finally got arrested, he was quite calm. Crane knew it was only a matter of time before he was caught, though he had managed longer than he had initially predicted. The Russian, Chechen, was really the last one he could peddle the toxin to in Gotham. All the others had cut ties with Dr. Crane after a few months of realizing the unwanted side effects of the drug, but as typical with criminals, they had all declined to tip off their fellow underworld associates of the risks of dealing with him. He had fully expected to have been caught before now, but Gotham P.D was slow. And as much as no one wanted to admit it, Batman was not omnipotent.
That night, it was quiet in the parking garage, that was until Chechen's dogs started barking. Chechen himself began to shout, angry about the quality of the drugs. Laughing, Crane repeated the same statement he had said to the others. Buyer Beware.
What had shocked him, however, were the three terribly costumed fake 'Batmen' that started shooting them before the actual Batman made an appearance. He had managed to hit one of the fakes with a face full of toxins in the midst of the chaos. Dropping their argument, both Crane and Chechen went their separate ways, getting into vans and quickly tried to flee. Of the two of them, only Chechen escaped.
Crane saw Batman, smirking from his position on the floor, he watched him carefully as the cadre of other suited idiots tried to justify their own actions. The original only offered a few comically short words of wisdom to silence them before departing. After the real Batman had left, Dr. Crane who was stuck sitting next to the other men, recalled something Brigid had said to him.
"Overall they don't come from a specific career, though they most likely could work in a job where they feel rules are being broken. It's only in rare cases that their behavior escalates outside their personal life into the public." Her voice whispered to him, the memory clear and sharp.
Dr. Crane's smirk grew wider as an idea crossed his mind, and he eyed the man beside him. The man was sweating profusely, the dark paint streaking down his face. He noticed the doctor looking at him, and would only fleetingly meet his eyes. From the quality of the clothes that were hidden under discount hockey pads spray-painted black, Crane would guess he was an office worker. Maybe an accountant, or human resources.
After all, he was rather bored waiting for the police to show up, why not start with a bang. Jonathan thought he might as well send a formal greeting to Brigid, the kind of thing he imagined friends might do for one another after a long period of not speaking, albeit in a more dramatic fashion. After all, it was what she said to him at the party so long ago that had given him the idea. What she had reluctantly told him in the basement.
Jonathan turned his full focus on the man next to him, speaking so quietly the other two men thought the doctor was speaking to himself. After all, he was crazy. But when their friend stood up, struggling against the concrete fence behind them to get to his feet, they only thought he was trying to run away. He had a family, getting arrested by the A.V Task Force would pretty much be grounds for a divorce. They never thought he would climb up on the railing, swinging his feet over it so he was seated facing the vast drop to the street below. Just as they were asking what the hell he was doing, he slipped off the side and disappeared. They were so high up, they didn't hear the crash below, or the screams of onlookers.
"That should get Gotham P.D here faster, wouldn't you agree?" Dr. Crane asked them, burning into theirs with a malevolence that made their blood run cold.
A
Late morning light brushed across the room hesitantly, the shadows from the surrounding mountains were doing their best to hold the sun at bay. Scattered papers spread out over the small wooden table, the oldest specimens boasting several small coffee stains. One article in particular, a Xeroxed copy of a newspaper report laid on top of all the others, its title proudly displayed:
Scarecrow's Run From Justice Over: Former Psychiatrist Dr. Jonathan Crane Arrested Last Night
By Warren Spencer
After almost a year avoiding capture, last night the former Psychiatrist and Chief of Staff at Arkham Institute for the Criminally Insane was arrested and detained by police. Police had reportedly received an anonymous tip, arriving on the scene in time to apprehend both Dr. Crane in addition to three Batman impersonators. Gotham P.D released an official statement during the early hours of the morning verifying the identities of those arrested. Their stance on the incident last night was quote, "possibly a drug deal gone wrong,"
Nearly a year ago, Dr. Crane, also referred to as Scarecrow, launched a sophisticated terrorist attack on what is now known as 'Fear Night'. Crane has successfully alluded capture until this point, and just three months ago a spokesperson for the Gotham P.D informed the Gotham Gazette that they had reported to the F.B.I their suspicion that he may have fled the city, or possibly the county. It is not yet clear if Crane spent his time hiding in plain sight, or if he has recently returned. The F.B.I when asked, officially declined to comment on the situation or any ongoing investigations related to Jonathan Crane.
However, an inside informant with the Gotham P.D advised us that Crane might have taken one last victim last night. Of the three vigilantes that were taken into custody alongside Dr. Crane, only two made it to the station alive. Our sources lead us to believe that the Mayor wants to keep this information as quiet as possible, possibly to secure more funding for the Anti-Vigilante Task force, headed by Lt. James Gordon. Our source could not yet confirm the nature of the vigilantes death, or exact identity until they release a more in-depth statement tomorrow afternoon. However, speculation leads us to believe this man could have been Scarecrow's last victim. The Gotham Gazette will be covering any updates pertaining to the obscure nature of his death as soon as the details are officially released.
Brigid came into the room, seeing the offending article on the table. She had gotten the call the night before from her supervisor, disclosing the details of Jonathan Crane's capture. When she had discussed it the night before, she was cool and composed- everything that she should be. Now, so many emotions competed for space in her chest she couldn't decide if she wanted to scream or break something.
This past month she had been investigating a suspicious nurse in Colorado, and frustratingly the woman had somehow gotten off. The only consolidation was that her nursing license had been officially revoked, and she was prohibited from working in any medical or care facilities in any state. Brigid still hadn't appreciated the leniency, but there wasn't much she could do once the judge and jury passed down the sentence.
Other than the case, as the anniversary of her time in Gotham had approached, she had appreciated the starkly contrasting environment here. It was dry and cold, each day bright and sunny despite the snow and fierce winds. There had only been the occasional cloudy day, but even that had been tempered by the sprawling forests and mountains, which kept her mind off the memories of the dark foreboding shadows of the city.
She had gone to therapy longer than she had been ordered too, though that had only been so successful. Finally after months of trying and failing to put all the pieces back where they had started, she had given up. It seemed as if a storm raged just beneath her skin, constantly threatening to rip her to shreds. Brigid was different now, though no one seemed to notice anymore. After giving up therapy, she had decided the best thing to do was to act as if she was fine; at least until she could deal with it all. Her drinking the first few months had gotten slightly out of hand, but she had gotten it under control. It had only been a reflexive coping mechanism, a habit she had picked up, and it wasn't difficult to recognize the behavior for what it was.
But without it, she still couldn't relax enough to sleep.
Brigid had to go back to Gotham in preparation for Dr. Crane's trial, a daunting task if there ever was one. If possible, she was supposed to try to get statements from him as well, a side project for the Behavioral Sciences unit that could be beneficial if she could secure a confession The heads of defense had made it clear to the head of her department, that it was imperative to discover if there was anything left of the terrorist group. They expected, in addition to the trial itself, to have every name of every contact Crane operated with. It was unprecedented, they said, that a man with seemingly everything- so highly respected in his field- would have committed such an act of terrorism. Brigid, who was unable to verbalize her opinions on the matter, merely gave them a lackluster grunt in lieu of a response.
They had insisted that she be the first approach, regardless of her protests. She had argued that perhaps it would be a conflict of interest, given the upcoming trial. More than that, interrogation wasn't something she had ever excelled at. They all knew the real reason why her supervisor, Mr. Farragut, wanted her to go. The department for defense surely imagined it was a sort of penance for screwing up so badly last year. Farragut just wanted to push her, see how much pressure she could take. He was part of the 'old guard' that believed you could only reach your potential if you were pushed to the absolute edge.
Regardless of what her supervisor wanted, the D.A's office made it clear they preferred to use Rachel Dawes as the star eyewitness. They'd use her notes, they had assured Brigid, and other evidence that Brigid had sent Rachel. At the very least, Brigid would be able to escape having to sit in a courtroom near Dr. Crane, and that was just fine with her. She wanted to wash her hands of that man, that place. She wondered if, once Crane was in prison, if maybe she would be able to overcome the cacophony raging inside her and finally get over this.
Trying to keep her mind busy with anything other than the next few weeks, she collected her papers and filed them away in her briefcase. Meticulously she packed her things, dressed and departed for the airport. The sense of foreboding only grew the closer she got to Gotham. The director had not been able to confirm the details of what had happened to the vigilante who was arrested alongside Crane, other than he appeared to have committed suicide. Brigid knew Crane was fully capable of bullying someone into killing themselves. No one had confirmed it yet, but she was absolutely sure that Dr. Crane had murdered the man.
As the sun dropped over the horizon through the small plane window, Brigid focused on keeping her thoughts silenced, and tried to gather her resolve before she arrived.