Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Mar 5, 2012 1:10:02 GMT -5
Fear..a distressing negative sensation induced by a perceived threat. Fear was the reason why man survived today. The brain uses fear to activate the fight-or-flight response. A basic survival instinct used to either face and fight your fears, or turn and flee from them. The bases of fear was always there, from the dawn of time, man knew fear. This was the text book definition of course. What he had been taught in school, what he had studied at Gotham University for. Dr. Crane had come to find out that fear was so much more.
His gazed turned from the ravenous birds that fluttered in the cage above him to a figure that had appeared on the wall. Nigma would never stand a chance in front of Crane, he never could. Of this Dr. Crane was certain. If only Nigma hadn't trapped him in a public place. But this was not the time for if onlys. The reality of the situation was he was caught in a public place and this was exactly why. The plan had been calculated from the beginning step by step to be ahead of him the whole time.
If he was going to come out of this alive, he had to get ahead of The Riddler. Dr. Crane exhaled slowly as Nigma continued to talk of Riddles asking him a question he would gladly give an answer to. “I am fear...” Dr. Crane he said with a slight smile. If he thought that it was going to be that easy then he hadn't practiced enough at his own game.
He arched his back slightly and attempted to push into nothing below his feet. His arms were starting to sting with the pain of supporting his body as it hang suspended in mid air. His wrists were starting to numb and tingle periodically. The doctor listened carefully as the trap was explained to him. The Riddler could be barbaric if he wished it seems. “So I am to be ripped apart for ripping you apart..” he spoke of the night they had two months ago. He may have not ripped him apart psychically but mentally Nigma was torn in two.
The game was clear. His eyes darted to the plastic box as The Riddler spoke of it. It held the key to his freedom. But it was under lock and code. There was always a catch. His eyes went to the birds above him as he announced another riddle. The key to his freedom was on one of the birds. The thought sickened him for a moment as he stared into the swarming, flapping, squawking, mess of feathers. Being torn apart by this machine wasn't welcoming, let alone be eaten alive by birds. To free himself he was going to face to face his past.
The thought of his past rose to the front of his mind. His grandmother standing over him telling him that he was 'A bad child!, A terrible child!...A wicked child'. He could never do anything right in her eyes, everything he did was an abomination to the lord. Being born was an abomination to the lord...
The life jumped back into his eyes as Nigma asked him if he was ready to play the game. His eyes darted from the chain in front of him to the plastic box. He couldn't do anything with the box unless he had enough slack to reach it. First his feet needed to reach the ground. The thought of it was relaxing, taking to weight off his arms would be life saving in itself. If anything it would help him think better.
He had to outsmart Nigma. That was the only way he was going to survive this without giving him everything he wanted, and even then the doctor was skeptical of his intentions. He wouldn't pull that chain until the time was necessary, even if he had the slack to reach it. It would be better if he had enough slack to reach the box then pull the chain. The main goal had to be answering as many riddles as he could right. Giving him as much slack as possible. With enough slack he had the best chance to defend himself again the birds, and find the code to the box.
“I'm ready..” The doctor spoke with hatred behind his words. Until he had enough slack, he would have to play The Riddlers way.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 6, 2012 18:46:36 GMT -5
Edward had been naturally gifted at everything, so while he never was a scientist his eyes did observes results like one. His eyes darted to the many screens on his wall that took in different angles and close up of Jonathan. He noticed that Jonathan’s eyes kept going to the birds. Was he scared? He smirked at the thought. It would be so ironic if Edward managed to trap the ‘Master of Fear’ within his own nightmares. He couldn’t determine how Jonathan actually felt from the situation based on what he had seen. He obviously was angry and slightly exhausted with it all, but who wouldn’t be if they were placed in the same situation.
His commentary immediately distracted Edward from his study. He pouted out his lip as he crossed his arm over his chest and leaned back in his chair. “You did not rip me apart,” he snapped, he then forced a smile on his face, “As you can see, I am in one piece and doing better then I ever was. It amazing that perfection can continue to be perfected.” He smirked and nodded to himself. He certainly was not going to mention to the man that the experienced had made him cry, and that the man had been correct. He had been haunted with memories of his father in his dreams for weeks afterwards. The first few nights he couldn’t even sleep, and he imagined Jonathan laughing at him from a far. It only made him angry, which is why he set together his plan for revenge. No, Jonathan had no need to know any of that.
His thoughts were so focus inwardly that he missed the daze look in Jonathan’s eyes. Unfortunate because it would have added to his hypothesis. Instead, he pouted like a child for a moment longer pondering how to begin this riddle. He could dive right into Jonathan’s past and pry it open the same way he had done to him, but what if he decided to answer honestly? What if he answered honestly, and it didn’t effect him? No, all the rogues had something dark in their past. Edward wasn’t a psychologist, but he understood that there are turning points in people’s lives that make them throw society’s judgment behind. Something happened that made Jonathan so obsessed with fear. He assumed he was probably frightened as a child. He was probably the boy constantly hiding in his locker. He chuckled to himself at the thought.
The puzzle of Jonathan would be easy to solve, but first, he wanted to see the man suffer. He knew Jonathan wasn’t as smart as him. Therefore, he would never be able to solve a simple brainteaser. He smirked. Why not have some fun to begin with? Jonathan certainly had.
“Jonathan, you’re lucky you caught me in a good mood. For that, I’m going to start off with something simple. Something a middle school student could solve if they actually paid attention in class,” he said with a new bounce in his tone. “The only pie that cannot be baked. What is it?” he asked with a taunting smirk before shaking his finger at the camera, “And please be detailed or the answer will not be accepted.”
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Mar 6, 2012 21:49:54 GMT -5
The feeling in his hands left again, he made a fist with both of his hands and released slowly trying to get blood pumping to the area. This was no time to be using the use of his limbs. Not that he had much room to move around at all, but he fully intended on it eventually.
It would have been easy for The Riddler to tear him apart right now. To end him and send him to oblivion. There was a deeper motive behind this, he didn't want to kill him, he wanted to make him suffer. He couldn't put it passed the man to change his mind if he was pushed too far however. Dr Crane kept this in the back of his mind. The way that the Riddler had been so quick to answer in that snapping annoyed tone of his brought Dr. Cranesome joy. He could see right through him, he saw the fear in the mans eyes that night.
His chest felt heavy, each breath was becoming work. The noise of the birds above him was bothering him greatly, but he wasn't going to look at them anymore. Not until he had to. Instead he kept his focus on the screen in front of him which held the image of his recent victim. It was time for his first riddle. He listened carefully to the first question. His head dropped for a moment as the context of the question entered his mind. It was a simple riddle, too simple.
The thought of detail ran through his mind, he couldn't answer with what he wanted to. This question, couldn't be answered. Nigma was looking for a reason to hurt him. The thought of the chains being even a little bit tighter was unpleasant. He was already losing feeling in his hands and any tighter, difficulty breathing would go from bad to worse. It would all depend on exactly how much he was going to pull for each question wrong.
Dr. Crane licked his lips before letting out a small laugh that covered hopelessness in his current situation. The best thing to do was to stall it as long as possible. He would have to go back to what he remembered. His understanding of math was more than average but when it came to Pi itself it was all memory. An infinite number if he could keep remembering the numbers he could delay Nigma longer. But he felt if he slipped up at all or took a pause it would be considered wrong.
“Three point one four, one, five, nine, two, six, five, three, five...eight...nine....” He hesitated and tried to remember. “six..” He stumbled out finally not knowing if it was right or not. It was inevitable eventually. Dr. Crane never thought he would ever need Pi longer than that in any instance in his life. For the future he would have to reconsider. Supposing he comes out of this alive which he was fully planning on doing. Figuring out exactly how was still coming to him. Nothing could be done without more slack and after this riddle he was sure he wouldn't be gaining.
The numbers had stopped, his mind was blank. He wasn't even sure if the last few numbers were right anymore. Not that it mattered. Dr. Crane exhaled slowly and braced himself for pain that was sure to come. The tingling in his fingertips was more prevent now has his heart began to race. At least blood was pumping through his veins a bit better. Dr. Crane kept a small smile on his face trying to cover anything that Nigma wanted to see. He was the Master of fear, only he would get that satisfaction.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 7, 2012 18:57:15 GMT -5
The desperate laugh that escaped Jonathan’s lips caused Edward to frown ever slightly. He knew Jonathan knew the answer to his riddle. After all, it was simple enough riddle a five year old child could solve it. He also knew that Jonathan knew that it was almost impossible to solve unless you have all the time in the world. Admittedly, if the man could spout off the number of pi for hours, Edward would have been impressed enough to let him have the answer. (Not Jonathan, but any other man.) No, Jonathan he wanted to see suffer. If he wanted to list the number of pi for hours then Edward would watch happily as the man slowly lost blood flow to his limbs. Edward did not have plans. Jonathan had his full attention, and for that reason, Edward had no problem spending hours of time focusing on him. The laugh itched at his skin. If Jonathan knew that he was incapable of answering then why was he laughing. Edward had never been one to look for fear, but right now, that was all Edward wanted to see. He wanted Jonathan afraid and angry. He did not want to see indifference that came with laughter. He didn’t voice his irritations. He kept them hidden as he waited to see how Jonathan would answer. As the numbers slowly came from Jonathan’s mouth, Edward began to fill a new wave of happiness. He was going to try to go on as long as he could. He smirked. Oh interesting, you won’t get far. He heard the hesitation. He couldn’t say he was surprise that Jonathan didn’t know that many numbers. Only a genius with photographic memory could know a much a larger portion of the sequence then this pitiable man. He heard the last number. “Wrong,” he stated immediately after it hung in the air. Six? No, it was seven of course. “I can’t say I’m surprised that you couldn’t solve such a simple riddle,” he let out a dramatic sigh though with the smirk he was still wearing it didn’t seem real. “I suppose you will be as boring as the rest,” he taunted as his hand moved to a remote.
“But with failure comes consequences,” he remarked before pressing the button that would tighten the chains. He chuckled and watched as the chains rolled into the wall and floor. It was only an inch, but even such a small amount would be extremely uncomfortable.
He decided to be considerate and give Jonathan time to readjust himself to the new pressure. It gave him a longer time to watch the man squirm.
“You are already not off to a great start Jonathan. It would be unfortunate if you don’t even make it to solving the first step of this riddle. I digress though,” he said as he fingers rolled the remote in his hand and in the camera for Jonathan to see. “Since math is obviously not your strong suit, I will move straight into history. “How many people have you killed, Jonathan?” he asked with a straight uninterested look. His eyes now focused on the remote until they darted back up to the screens, “And remember details are always taken into consideration.”
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Mar 7, 2012 21:20:03 GMT -5
Hearing Nigma confirm his failure to answer the question infuriated him. “The riddle was-” He said in protest but was interrupted but a sharp pain on his limbs. A groan escaped his lips, the chains were already tight and uncomfortable the last pull now made it painful. He closed his eyes and tried to steady his breathing with short inhales. He was relatively calm in most situations, this one however made him nervous, perhaps it was the persistent flapping and squawking above his head.
He didn't finish his sentence. There was no need. Nigma wouldn't have listened to his protest anyway. The whole scenario reminded Dr. Crane of an experiment. Something that he would have done himself. Nigma was essentially using the birds, the chains, and the controller, as the conditioned stimulus, trying to get a conditioned response. In other words, creating a phobia. He was using his own methods against him, how fitting.
There was a suspicion he was sure at this point but Nigma didn't know that he feared what was above him. It was hard for him to even admit it to himself. No, in fact he wouldn't admit it to himself and certainly not to the screen in front of him. Looking down for a moment his eyes wet to the chain around his left foot. He attempted to bend his left knee slightly towards himself to hopefully loosen some of the grip but it didn't help. All he managed to do was make some noise and squirm uncomfortably. How was he suppose to think clearly like this?
He didn't have a choice it seemed. It was think clearly or die. An unstable almost unsettling calmness fell over his body and his eyes as Nigma mentioned the next riddle. It wasn't a riddle at all, just a question. An impossible question at that. The thought of having the chains pulled again wasn't pleasant. In any other circumstance he would never admit to killing anyone willingly on tape. Killing someone wasn't out of the question for Dr. Crane, most of the time it came rather easily when he had to. But how was Nigma to know whether he was telling the truth or not in this question?
Dr. Crane for a moment let a sinister smirk appear out of the corner of his mouth. His eyes now staring back at Nigma on the screen. He wanted to answer elaborately, did he really want details? There was only one murder that ever significantly stood out in his mind. No, he pushed that down for now, he wouldn't speak of her unless it was necessary. The birds distracted him for a moment as the thought came to mind. Dr. Crane caught himself twitching slightly at the thought.
He could have went on and on about a mans worth. What was one man to Edward Nigma? His eyes watched him slowly turn the remote in his hands. A familiar gesture. “I've only killed 4 in cold blood that I can be sure of. Who knows what the madness does to a man after I'm gone?” He paused and grinned. He hadn't made it his MO to kill people, it was so much more satisfying to see them cower in terror. He killed when he had to, and perhaps when he wanted to. ..Of course he had killed many more than that but all other he considered to be a 3rd party involvement.
He had to be more detailed in his answer Nigma wouldn't stand by and wait for him to ponder oer all of this. “One mans life is not significant to me Nigma, you can't expect me to remember those who felt the cold grip of oblivion. What I do remember is the terror on their faces. Like the young aspiring mind from my student body at Gotham University. I shot him in the middle of class to illustrate a point.” a hint of anger filled his eyes as he thought about the school board that relieved him of his position for that. Feeling that the chains would be pulled again if he didn't elicit a more detailed response Dr. Crane went on to explain.
– 'So what is fear?' Professor Crane asked his classroom pacing to the right side of the large room. A young lady shot her arm into the air and he pointed at her. 'Fear is a survivalist response in the face of danger, we use it to survive.” She happily responded quite sure of herself. Professor Crane smiled and let out a small laugh. 'Ah of course..A survivalist response. Fear would be used in an effort to try and remedy or escape the certain situation.' He said while moving back to his desk. He walked around to the back of it and opened a small black briefcase he usually brought to class. This time something more was in it besides the usual research papers and ungraded tests.
'If your theory about fear is correct, that is indeed the textbook definition...Lets try a little experiment.” he said while pulling out a gun in front of the class. He held it up to show it to them for a moment before proceeding to load a clip and shove it into the gun. Loaded, he took the safety off and fired it twice into the air. Various students panicked many going under there desks as far as they could manage. The few they stayed up pleased Professor Crane to no end. Once the few muffles and screeches had stopped he continued. “You see? A survival response.” Without saying another word he called one of the young men in the front row of his class. He hadn't ducked under the table but he seemed rather un edge.
Slowly the young man got up and went to the front of the class. Professor Crane noted that the boys hands were shaking. He was clearly terrified of what was to come. He lifted the gun and pointed it at his chest still remaining some distance from him. “Are you scared?” He asked with a clearly unstable smile playing upon his lips. 'N-no...” the boy muttered out. With that Professor Crane fired the gun. He dropped instantly to the floor blood filling onto the tile of the classroom.
“So what is fear?” Professor crane asked the now frantic classroom again while ignoring the boy and walking around the desk to grab something else. “Did fear save him?” He finished his lecture with that. It was to prove a point, fear was so much more, than what they thought.
–
The experiment was glorious to Dr. Cranes eyes but the board didn't agree with him. The boy had actually lived surprisingly but Crane had seen to it that he said nothing negative to the school board what so ever. He still got fired, but no jail time for the incident. It even had a few up sides, he got hired at Arkham Asylum for a few years. "Was that the correct answer?" He asked almost mockingly.
The anger from how he was treated still remained with him though, he was just trying to prove a point. His gaze met the screen again and waited for whatever Nigma was going to do next. Punishment? Another question? Or did he really expect him to give every story of the people he had killed or tried to. The thought couldn't help but come to mind again. What was one life to Nigma?
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Post by Deleted on Mar 7, 2012 22:51:08 GMT -5
Let’s be honest here, Edward was enjoying this. He was enjoying this more then he really should. He always gained some form of entertainment from his riddles and watching people struggle, but there was something about having a man who prided himself on controlling his victims in a state where he can barely control himself. The struggling was how he imagined a spider would feel when they saw a fly trapped in their web. The way his dark eyes took in every screen, every pain, every movement, was sickly and proved that Edward truly was bordered on the lines of sociopathic at times.
The only thing that managed to kill his wonderful mood was Jonathan’s smirk. It caused Edward’s own smirk to falter for a moment. What are thinking, Jonathan? Hopefully not considering lying to me…
He wouldn’t put it past the man, but Edward had an acute detective skill. Reading facial features had always been one of his many talents. The way a muscle moved in your cheek or the look of an eye could give anything away to him. Admittedly, Jonathan’s features were much difficult to read, but still probable.
The answer he receives pulls him out of his suspicion, and back into his puzzle. Unlike most of his riddles, this one was not design to test Jonathan’s knowledge. His goal wasn’t to see if the man was smart enough to live. He had spoken to him on occasion and already knew the man possessed more intelligence then the average buffoon. Admittedly, he possessed enough intelligence that made Edward believe he was actually had a right to life. A rare task to accomplish when it came down to Edward and his respect for other people. No, this riddle certainly was not to test Jonathan’s intelligence. It was to help Edward answer the real riddle.
Who is Jonathan?
Edward knew he should be indifferent to the man and what created him like he was towards every other living creature on the planet, but Jonathan had stupidly decided to grab Edward’s attention. While Edward’s attention span was comparable to a kid on crack, one you had the man’s attention he focused a hundred percent of his efforts there until he got what he wanted or became bored.
Right now, Edward wanted the answer to his riddle. He wanted it. He would get it because the Riddler always got what he wanted.
Four people…interesting. He knew Jonathan wasn’t known for killing people. It was why he had asked the question. The people he killed had some impact on him to cause the man to take that action. He wanted to know who they were because it would lead to his answer. Similarly to following the breadcrumbs, he would have to take it step by step until he found what was hidden in the woods.
Jonathan didn’t give him enough time to speak though because he went into the details instantly. Good, he finally understood that Edward threats were not to be taken lightly, but as he listened to the detail explanation he frowned.
He knew this story. Better question, who in Gotham City didn’t know this story? It’s similar to everyone in Gotham knowing that the Riddler was fired and experienced an accident with a drunk driver. These were the snapping points in their life that started their questionable careers. They were public knowledge and now studied in every criminal psychology classroom in America. It might have been interesting hearing it from Jonathan himself if Jonathan wouldn’t have described this story to answer his question.
I ask you how many people you have killed and you give me a story about someone you didn’t kill…stupid, Jonathan, he thought to himself. The fact that he told the story meant two things: it was a large enough event in Jonathan’s life that he considered it as dramatic as murder or he was covering a larger story up.
“You are quite the story teller, Jonathan. You should have considered authoring children’s books before stepping into this field. Who knows maybe you would have actually been successful unlike this one,” Edward stated nonchalantly, as his wrist rolled with the remote. He leaned back into his chair and brought his feet up on top of the desk. The camera was still aimed at his face, but it looked like Edward was fairly content in his position. “However, you lied,” he stated the fact in a colder tone, “The boy you described lived. I remember reading it in the Gotham Times myself,” he confirmed.
“I do hate liars,” he stated then pressed the button. The chains stretched the man out farther. If he kept getting answer wrong, his bones literally would be dislocated.
Edward wasn’t so focus on Jonathan’s pain at this moment. He wanted the answer to his riddle, and Jonathan was being difficult. Punishing him was fun at first, but Edward would receive no answer if the man was ripped to part.
No answers….it was a horrible thought.
“Let’s go again, shall we?” he said with a friendly smile, ignoring the grunts and pain Jonathan was giving. “What did you do to the bullies at your school?” he asked. Edward was not an idiot. Jonathan might have been okay looking now, but based on his height and slightly dangling features he was made fun of. It might have been a shot in the dark, but Edward was pulling out from his own personal experience. Being the smartest one in school meant you were picked on by the idiots who didn’t understand. Edward couldn’t fully explain his logic, but he saw similar traits in Jonathan as he did himself. It made him think that their starts might not be so different.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Mar 8, 2012 1:24:45 GMT -5
Dr. Crane let his mouth fall open for a moment but he quickly closed it. He choked back the pain by biting his lower lip. Managing to only let a small grunt of pain slip. Judging from the way his arms felt he couldn't take another pull without them coming out of socket. It would have meant death for him, being unable at that point to fight off the birds, to get the box open, to escape at all.
The story he told though as significant it was, was not how he became who he was. It was what started the movement into his criminal profession. Once he realized the incompetence of those around him was when he really began to turn to crime. But what had made him that way? It had began long before he studied, long before he taught, long before he practiced. Even long before the truth he was about to give Nigma.
Through the pain he had listened to his words. This question was a little bit easier for Dr. Crane to answer without giving more than he wanted away. Bullies were always a problem for him. When he was growing up, through most of school, he wasn't the best looking kid. Often teased and pushed around for his scrawny bookwormish type features. There had been many bullies throughout his years in school, adopting a nick name of Ichabod Crane that seemed to stick through most of grade school.
In truth he had always liked the character from the story, he related to him in a way. Constantly being pushed around by others. As he grew older especially into college he developed more pleasing features. He was sort of the perfect ugly duckling story. Now he was tall and handsome. Unfortunately it never got him far because Dr. Crane gave up on love a long time ago. All it was, was a mask for fear. He was such a recluse, especially after grade school that he never even was presented with the opportunity. Buried in his work and buried in his obsession it became his one true love.
He caught his breath life coming back into his eyes. Just the mention of bullies sent his mind into a dark place. It almost made the thought of the birds above him fade away all together. There was too much anger involved. The question was specific this time and it would be easier to answer. It was also something that was not exactly widely known. Something that Nigma most likely wouldn't have heard. Still he thought it best in this situation at least to remain honest.
He still remembered the girls features. Now it sickened him to think of how he could ever fall for her. His eyes darkened as he remembered the event and looked into the figure of Nigma from the projection screen. “I had many bullies throughout school...Two in particular I murdered them on Prom Night in the parking lot” He paused and recalled the bullies image to himself careful not to take too much time in getting to the details. He couldn't risk his arms being pulled out of the socket.
–
He stepped carefully out of the vehicle that he arrived in. It was prom night, he was eighteen, but he arrived with no date. No, the girl that he had loved was here with someone else. She had never loved him, the little game she played on him was just to destroy him further inside. What chance did he have with her? He felt foolish to believe that it might even happen for a moment.
They would come to find that Johnathan Crane was already an unstable individual, and all of their bullying was just bringing him closer to the snapping point. Tonight was that night. Looking around in the parking lot from the side of his own vehicle he couldn't see Bo Grigg's car. Bo Grigg's was the biggest bully in school. He was tall, brutish, muscular, and compared to Jonathan about a dumb as a rock. But he still intimidated Johnathan. It was his sheer size that was the most overpowering.
This was the first night he had ever worn his scarecrow costume. Without the additions that he added later, including the voice distorter and a gas mask built into a much scarier darker looking mask. For now it just consisted of a straw sack pulled over his head.
He was waiting for them to arrive. Bo Grigg's and the girl that had played him for a fool Sherry Squires. She pretended to go out with him to make fun of him and eventually lure him into a trap to get brutally battered by Bo Grigg's. That was going to end tonight. He saw the car pull up, Bo and Sherry inside. Slowly he began his walk towards their vehicle. They hadn't seen him yet innocently getting out and getting ready to go inside.
There were many people in the parking lot still, Crane was just one of many around them. He pulled the gun from his pants and pointed it into the air firing. Panic broke out in the parking lot, Bo and Sherry had seen Crane and got back into the car to try and escape. He never missed a beat continuing his slow walk towards the vehicle. Bo had turned on the car and attempted to peel out of the spot he was in. Having his foot fully down on the gas the tires burned the pavement and shot into a turn quickly. Little did they know another panicked couple was trying to escape as well.
The cars collided, one broadsiding the passenger seat of the car. He had plenty of time to get to them now, the car was going no where. He walked up to Bo griggs side of the vehicle and looked inside. He was lifting from the dash, blood covered his face from the broken glass. Sherry was in a similar state not having her seat belt on she had lifted to find herself bloody. "Fear the Scarecrow..." Johnathan said to Bo and Sherry, without remorse Crane lifted his gun and fired at Bo grigg's.
Sherry began to scream, he remembered the scream so vividly as she pleaded for her life in her state of utter terror. Moving the gun slightly upward he pulled the trigger. They wouldn't ever bully him again. No one ever would.
The realty of the situation hit Crane and he ran back to his vehicle getting in the car and fleeing from the scene.
–
Finishing explaining himself Dr. Crane noticed that the feeling was gone in both arms. That wasn't a good sign. He shifted slightly but his body protested due to the tightness of the chains. It just wasn't going to happen without slack. This story however was the truth. It was the first night that he became The Scarecrow, giving Nigma that much he hoped would give him some slack.
Dr. Crane let his head fall for a second trying to regain some of his strength. Being suspended for this long was really getting to him. Not to mentioned the noise from the ravenous birds was creeping back into his mind. He was happy for the moment at least Nigma was not asking the questions that would lead to a topic he didn't want to talk about. “That was when I realized the true potential of fear..” Through the pain the thought managed to bring a smile to his face, for only a moment before he cringed again and exhaled. "Good enough answer for you? Or have a lied once again.." Dr. Crane asked coughing a bit as he said it.
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Post by Deleted on Mar 13, 2012 19:25:33 GMT -5
Edward chuckled softly to himself at the pain in Jonathan’s features. One more wrong answer and his arms would certainly be loss to him. His fingers tapped lightly on the armrest of his chair as he studied the man, not yet broken but soon to be. Edward imagined his fingers playing along a piano, as if each key was made to make Jonathan say the words he desired from him. Jonathan didn’t have control, and he would be bend the way Edward wanted. Edward’s talent for retrieving the answers he wanted was similar to art of a conductor.
His lip tilted into a smirk when the dark look glazed over his eyes. Ah yes, he had hit the correct button. Again, he was not surprise, but a small irritation was settling in him…how similar were they? He knew they had some similarities, but Edward still liked to believe he was unique. After all, perfection can only be achieved by one: himself. The thought that someone might hold a similar story to his own did not bold well within his mind, but he pushed it aside to be dealt with later. He first needed to solve the riddle before he analyzed the answer.
As Jonathan began his story, Edward felt himself lean back into his chair. His eyes taking in Jonathan’s features with indifference as he judged weather the man was speaking the truth to him. His ears taking in the words and tone of the story, and his mind transporting him into the world Jonathan was creating. Jonathan had never quite described what the two children had done to him, but Edward understood the pain that he must have felt. Jonathan didn’t describe the pain. No, he focused on taking back control of the situation. Control, how they both desired it…
Edward’s mind thought to his own days in school, the abuse and names that never ceased. He desired control instead of being trapped by them and their taunts. His father though always took that control away from him. Edward had always been trapped within all the idiocy. Did Jonathan feel trapped? Was that the reason behind Jonathan? He desired control, but believed it was only granted through fear? The idea that Jonathan was more similar to him then he originally thought did not sit well with Edward, like a bad after taste in his mouth. He prevented the feeling to appear on his features. He kept an indifferent expression as Jonathan finished.
It stayed that until Jonathan taunted him. Normally, Edward would be angry, but he found the comment humorous. He smirked instead.
“I suppose,” he began as he picked up the remote again and brought it to the visual of the camera. He played with it between his fingers, as his eyes seemed indifferent to it. “I suppose….it is an adequate response,” he stated and pressed the button loosening the chains. He tapped the remote to his chin in thought afterwards as he considered the story. He didn’t ask a question right away. His mind danced around the details. “Strange, you were fascinated with the name Scarecrow at the very beginning,” he muttered, not really talking to Jonathan but to himself. It was how he got when in deep thought, “It is obviously personal, probably name calling…or he might have lived on a farm. It’s not something that can easily come to mind to someone in the suburbs or the city.”
He lifted his head away from the tapping remote and focused on the camera and screens. “A broken heart?” he chuckled a bit at the random thought. He knew that this situation was over more then a broken heart, but he enjoy taunting the man. “I never took you as a romantic, Jonathan.” He pushed himself straighter in the chair, “On the topic of love, how was your family life?” he asked, knowing that love and family hardly related to themselves in the life of any criminal, but that part of the reason he asked.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Mar 14, 2012 15:04:05 GMT -5
Recalling the events of his past was easy to this point. The first question before the game had started he avoided on purpose, for a good reason. It was something that he didn't go into, not even with himself. No one knew about his childhood, and he wanted to keep it that way. Once you know about their roots the fear comes easily. No, he didn't have a childhood...
Psychology would say that things done in childhood or experienced in childhood would contribute to things later in life. Many aspects of life your beliefs, personality, social ability, and of course your fears. A phobia can be instilled at any stage of life however, like what the Riddler was doing with the remote. He wondered if Nigma had set the trap up this way for a particular reason. Was it because he asked him if he knew what a phobia was? Perhaps this was his answer.
Seeing the remote brought into view Dr. Crane swallowed and attempted to hold back any emotion from it. It was difficult considering how his physical state was in. He wasn't afraid of the remote, or the chains, or being ripped apart. But he was anxious for relief on his limbs, it was only natural. Nigma's words were delayed and slow. He was enjoying every moment of his agony. Dr. Crane stared into the projection screen and tried to find some reaction out of him from what he had just heard, but there was nothing. Nigma was looking for something else.
He exhaled as he felt the pressure come off of his arms. It wasn't by much, just about as much as had been pulled before. But it felt like thy had been loosened a lot. His eyes shifted away from Nigma's as some blood began circulating through his limbs again. His eyes darter to the chain attached to his right wrist. The metal on these type of chains wouldn't have been easily broken, especially from his position. Regardless his hands wrapped around the chain and he almost gave in to giving it a good tug.
Dr. Crane stopped before he pulled and thought about what he was doing, and why he was doing it. IF he were to pull on one side, it would jerk his other. If he wanted to try any attempt at forcibly breaking the chains it couldn't be while he was in the air. The position was getting to him, clouding his judgment.
Dr. Crane's attention was caught by the mention of the word Scarecrow. His gaze shifted from the chain back onto his captor. The name Scarecrow had significant meaning to him, as did most villains names. He didn't like the direction that Nigma was going with his words. Over analyzing the meaning behind the name and how it came to be. A sigh of relief was withheld as he heard the subject change momentarily.
No one knew about Sherry excluding Nigma now. She was nothing in his mind at this moment and hadn't been for a long time. Dr. Crane had learned that the misplaced emotion to care for others was simply a weakness in a man. Something that could be twisted and used, something that others would prey upon, just like Bo Griggs. If Nigma wanted to believe that a broken heart is what made him who he was, then he would let him.
The statement of being a romantic, although taunting as it was, brought a smile to his face. “All is 'fear' with love and war...” Dr. Crane laughed out softly.
The laughter left him and a very monotone expression came over his face as Nigma asked his next question. Family...He had no family. But the question wasn't in present tense it was in past. Giving away his darkest secrets was something he gave no one the luxury of obtaining. Many at Arkham had tried but it quickly became his therapy session instead of theirs.
“My family life..” Dr. Crane spoke slowly trying to think carefully about what he was going to say next. Getting this answer wrong would mean the chains going right back where they were. Whatever he did he had to keep from mentioning the birds above him, or the reasons why his eyes avoided them. The noise had not gotten any better but he had drowned it out the best he could when calling his past. In this situation if he were to tell Nigma everything, the noise wouldn't be able to be drown out. It would be in both worlds.
“On the subject of love and my family their was none. I never knew my Father and my mother did the best she could for what she had and what she was worth..” His voice became darker with the mention of his mother. The truth was that she simply didn't care, she didn't raise him. The question that Nigma had asked was vague, so would be his answer. He gave him the truth and nothing more, he wouldn't give him more than that. It would take far more than the threat of Oblivion to get that history out of Dr. Crane.
A few feathers from the cage had fallen, one landing on his shoulder. He couldn't help but wince at the sight of the feather through his peripherals. The birds were getting ravenous.
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Registered On: May 5, 2024 5:04:36 GMT -5 ~
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Post by Deleted on Mar 15, 2012 21:49:30 GMT -5
While Edward’s ‘riddles’ were designed in such a way where the outcome could only be life or death, his goal was never to cause fear per se. His mind never focused on fear when building and connecting his contraptions. He immediately used it to force the person to understand the serious nature of their situation because normally people assumed that having intelligence was not a necessary thing to have in order to live. In his riddles, he forced people to use their minds in ways they never considered having to. Fear was certainly a tool Edward used, but not his goal. Edward’s goal was answers.
Admittedly, he did enjoy taunting his contestants. It had something to do with the outright control he held over their lives, the god like feeling. He loved watching them squirm as they struggled like the rodents they truly were. He enjoyed it even more when one of his contestants had caused him wrong in the past. After all, it was about time Jonathan understood that Edward was in control and not him. It was about time Jonathan understood that Edward was far more intelligent then he could ever be. For that reason, Edward enjoyed his slow maneuver of the remote and how Jonathan eyed it with annoyance. To him the remote was not fear, but rather a message, a simple message.
I am better then you.
Jonathan laughing wiped Edward’s confidence away in a flash. He did not enjoy the rat in his game laughing. Edward merely listened with an indifferent expression. Once again, Jonathan managed to link it to fear. Love? Love was just a word fools told themselves to comfort their loneliness and insecurities, and war was just the action of men who lacked the basic intelligence to gain superior control. Edward did not let his thoughts linger on the statement. Jonathan was debating on how to answer his question.
Edward merely rolled the remote in his hand the same way he rolled many of his tootsie pops. He waited patiently as he watched the Doctor struggle with an answer. Hmm…interesting. It appears that he had indeed struck the right cord. Jonathan did not want to reveal this past. The larger clue was how quickly his voice turned dark, almost murderous. Once again that disgusting feeling of having more similarity nudged the back of his mind, but he pushed it aside as Jonathan answered.
Compared to his other answer, this lacked any story. Two sentences was all Jonathan graced him with for an answer. Edward’s eyes studied Jonathan carefully on the screen. The hatred look he was trying to cover meant his words about his mother were slightly misleading. From a normal person, one would assume that it was not necessarily the mother’s fault, but rather society for punishing the mother….but Jonathan’s mention of worth meant something else entirely. To Jonathan the woman must have been worth nothing. The very fact that Edward found question popping into his mind from the statement proved that the answer given could hardly be considered an answer. Answers are not supposed to lead to questions, at least not now!
His lip twitched into a frown, and his finger lingered on the button to tighten it. Then he saw it.
It was the very thing he had been looking for since the start of this riddle. It was quite a benefit for Edward to have so many screens and angles of Jonathan’s current state. It meant nothing went unmissed to his eyes.
The frown changed to confident smirk as he placed the remote back down on the desk. “The answer you gave answered nothing,” he said with a gleeful expression. He should be tightening the chains, but he didn’t. “And while I am curious to know how your mother must have had a hand in the abuse you endured, I will hold off on it. Obviously, you are far too afraid,” he said with the wave of his hand, “to face your past.”
He shifted in his chair, clasping his hands together in a more thoughtful pose. “Consider that a gift, but if you disrespect the gift I’ve given by not answering my next question, then I am afraid you will not like the results,” he stated, and while his words seemed sweet, the malicious look on his face told the truth.
Edward let the silence continue for a moment longer before he stated his simple and quite easy question.
He smiled kindly, “Why are you afraid of birds, Jonathan?”
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Mar 15, 2012 23:23:22 GMT -5
Every turn of his fingers dancing over the remote, the way it fell from top to bottom in his finger tips. It almost made the seconds feel like hours. He was actually so focused on the remote that he didn't quite notice that his laughter bothered the Riddler. The anticipation was building, was he to be stretched out again?
His statement on Love and war was a play on word obviously. Putting his own twist upon it to make it darker. This is how he understood the world, through fear. Love was something that was foreign to him. Arkham was close to believing in his evaluations that he was incapable of feeling the emotion. The problem with their psychological evaluations was that they were never credible and never clear. Somehow he would always turn it into his session, he would be in control.
Control was something that they shared a need for. Just in two very different ways. Dr. Crane could see that now. If he was going to get in control again he had to play the game.
Mentally he was preparing himself for the worse. For his limbs to feel the pressure again, even possibly pull out of place. They didn't the first time but there was only so much the human body could take. His head began to fog and protect itself from the inevitable. How did he get here? His mind raced through the thoughts of the events that had taken place up to this moment. How was he not prepared for this?...Nigma had taken him out of his element....Inspiring..
He was aware that he let his emotion towards the feather get to him. He didn't know how many cameras were in the room, but he knew what fear was. He knew the exact amount of muscles it took to make the expression. He knew exactly how many seconds it last on average and it was more than enough for The Riddler to see. Giving him even the smallest satisfaction of his own tools created a mixture of two of the basic emotions, which would be explained as secondary emotions. The combination of any of the 6 together could create hundreds of possibilities in which every one had a name. In this particular case it was Anger and Disgust, Contempt.
Not feeling his arms being pulled apart made the doctor curious. Not having to go over his mothers part in his life brought some satisfaction to Dr. Crane but he couldn't help but feel it was for another reason. Hearing Nigma call him out on his own fear was infuriating. But to an outsider that looked at Crane there was an eerie calmness about him. His eyes settled in to focus on Nigma's, his breathing normalized no longer in anticipation of the chains being pulled. It was the reason why he was evaluated insane...
Then the real question came...
His expression stated the same, the static, unstable, and questionable ability to feel anything at all. It was a question so personal that he hoped Nigma question himself as to whether he was ready to hear the answer. The thought of respect came into his mind noting the previous statement before the question. He could have easily replied with something smart like 'because I'm drenched in an a pleasing substance to ravenous beaks above him'. This wouldn't have been good for his health however, and certainly been disrespect.
He had to answer.
The doctor took a moment to himself letting the life leave his eyes as he stared through the projection screen. He went so deep inside himself, he could feel the sound of the birds above him getting louder and louder. It was deafening...He would have pulled his arms to his ears to stop it if he could. But the reality was the sound was more in his head than above him. He had to answer, he couldn't wait any longer it would lead to his death. His mind raced within him, behind the empty lifeless eyes. Dr. Crane couldn't think, he was running out of time, he had to answer!
The deafening sound of cawing came to a halt. All the was left was the occasional protest of a bird above him. The life lept back into his eyes and he moved his head around licking his lips and swallowing. He was thirsty ironically, considering all the happened. “Birds..” The word left his lips with a bit of uneasiness. “I'm not afraid of birds...” He stated truthfully. He wasn't afraid of birds in general, only when they mimicked was he was really afraid of, Crows.
He knew that he couldn't be that general with the statement however, it wouldn't be good enough for him. His next words had to be placed carefully without having to face his past. “I was placed in a situation frequently..” He tried to remain vague yet specific to what he asked. “Something about it made me 'dislike' a certain type of bird” Dr. Crane let his focus leave Nigma for a moment and his eyes actually went to the cage above him for a moment.
He didn't know how many crows were in there, it honestly wouldn't have mattered. With all of them fluttering about it all of them might as well have been crows. In the fit that they would be around him he wouldn't know the difference. He would only be able to hear the noise. “I 'dislike' them because I was attacked by them” Again he answered without using the word fear. He was fearless in his mind, and especially wanted to remain so to his enemies. Hopefully the answer would suffice since he explained in as little detail as possible the 'why'.
His eyes fell from the cage and focused back on Nigma's ever thoughtful expressions.
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Registered On: May 5, 2024 5:04:36 GMT -5 ~
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Post by Deleted on Mar 16, 2012 1:53:17 GMT -5
The last time Edward had gotten so much pure satisfaction from a riddle was when the Doctor, who had given him his bad leg, screamed bloody murder as knives carved his arm. Now, Edward certainly not Harvey Dent, but he did have a desire for things to be fair between those who had wronged him. It was fair that if Edward lost his leg, the Doctor lost his arm. If was fair that if Edward revealed his past and fears, Jonathan revealed his past and fears. It was fair, and while that constant mantra in his mind could be comparable to a toddler throwing a tantrum over their sibling getting the better bedroom, he still desired everything to be fair.
It was how Edward justified many of his actions. Society coddled the idiots while the intelligent were punished. It was unfair, and something Edward desired to fix.
He took in Jonathan’s eyes that Edward read similarly to a book. Edward felt as if any heaviness or grudge against the man leaving him this moment. The constant pain in his leg easily forgotten. Jonathan’s eyes appeared lifeless, but it gave him far too much clue to the man’s inward thought process. Jonathan was an indifferent man and his face usually expressionless, but for something so traumatic to create that look it meant that Jonathan…must be reliving his own fears.
Edward could not contain the joyous smile on his face. He felt so close to his answer. It all felt right.
He watched the man fidget ever slightly and the slowness of his lips. To Edward, he didn’t quite mind that receiving the answer was taking longer then he needed. It only furthered proved that he was right. His hypothesis on the birds had been true, and also explained why the man did not look up at them. How Edward loved being right! It almost made him want to dance, but he stayed in his place on the chair watching carefully. The words seemed to be barely on his lips, but then he spoke.
The words came out slowly, as if he were cautious of both how to phrase it and the vision of his past. Normally, Edward Nigma was a very impatient man. He most likely should have been diagnosed with ADD when he was younger, but that would have required attentive parents. However, at this moment, Edward felt extremely patient. The longer it took for Jonathan to speak the more proof it offered that he had indeed been correct. He didn’t even take Jonathan’s first statement to heart. He already knew the answer. It might not have been birds, but it definitely was a type of bird, and it was confirmed a moment later when Jonathan said just that. Oh how Edward loved how Jonathan continued to prove him right.
It certainly was not a detailed answer, but Jonathan’s emotions and his necessity to replace fear with dislike gave Edward all the answer he needed for that riddle. He didn’t even taunt Jonathan with the remote this time because he was in such a good mood. He merely pressed the button loosening the chains to where they had first been.
He leaned back in chair and pondered over the experience. It certainly held a big impact in Jonathan’s life. Attacked by birds, he certainly would be reliving that in his near future. But why would one be attacked by birds?
“Birds are not the creatures known to attack,” he commented, “I also highly doubt the attack happened once. There wouldn’t be such a reaction. You were forced into it. You already confirmed that there was not love in your family. You also did not deny my comment on abuse. It is only logical that the birds are in relation to the abuse.” He wasn’t talking to Jonathan. Again, he was talking to himself, and he started to laugh at the realization. His family had actually forced birds to attack him. His father might have beaten him every day, but he certainly had never been that ‘creative.’
He eventually stopped his laughter when he realized he must come up with another riddle. “I apologize Jonathan,” he began, “I am not laughing at you. I am merely impressed that anyone would go to such lengths. It seems like pointless effort, but I know that there is always a reason behind the action. It brings a riddle to my mind, why would whoever do such an action to you?” he pondered the thought to himself, “They must have thought horribly of you. Trying to fix or hide something in you?” He waved his hand, “Ignore my rambling, just tell me who set the birds on you?”
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Mar 16, 2012 17:05:55 GMT -5
Sweet release...Or at least that's what his limbs cried out as the chains were loosened yet again. He wasn't by any means free or unrestricted at all, but the pins and needles on his skin told him that he was finally heading in the right direction. His wrists slowly moved in clockwise rotation and then back. He made fists with both feeling the blood rushing back to them before carefully releasing his grip.
Dr. Cranes was still heavy. Luckily he hadn't lost any feeling in his legs yet. This could all be explained medically of course, it's easier for blood to flow with gravity instead of against. As Nigma began to speak again he closed his eyes for a moment and coked his head to the left and right to help with blood flow. That's what he justified it as in his mind anyway...
Nigma was trying to break him
His deductions were not far from the truth. There was abuse, but it wasn't his mother. His mother held a dark place in his heart as the woman that neglected to do anything about what was happening to him. The woman that cast him aside and let that...terrible old decrepit creature make him feel powerless. She made him feel so small. And why?
Why?...Because he was wicked in her eyes.
Though Nigma acknowledged that his laughter was not directed at him it still left a sting. But he wouldn't show it, his ability to hold back his emotions was breaking, but he wasn't planning on bending to The Riddler. His eyes remained closed for a few moments longer as he continued to speak. Indeed there was a reason behind every action...and Crane knew exactly what it was.
Dr. Cranes eyes opened as the Riddler finally got to his questions. She was trying to fix him. Always trying to fix him. He didn't raise his head from it's lowered position but instead kept it hanging in the middle. His eyes didn't raise to Nigma's but stead focus on the pullable chain in front of him that was still out of his reach.
“My grandmother...” He answered, his voice not holding much power behind it at all. It was a part of his past he never wanted to think about ever again. It ended the day he finally made it end and he wanted it to stay there, locked in time. To Nigma the word grandmother would have probably almost seemed like a lie, how could an old woman ever get control over him?
He felt his body shake for a moment adjusting itself to it's newer more comfortable position. Dr. Crane took in a few deep breaths and his mind began to help him recall a certain event in particular. “She was the type of woman to cling to her rhymes and her god..” His voice began to be empty and dark. His mind tried to pull into thought about the birds but he shook it off. He remained focus on the exact question Nigma had asked. Why?....He should know the answer..
- - - - -
Jonny dreaded living here. His mother had found yet another reason to leave him with his Grandmother. It had almost become routine now, he would be dropped off and she would go enjoy her life. Leaving him to the care of his 'kind' and 'gentle' Grandmother.
Dinner wasn't great, Jonny wasn't sure if he had ever had a good meal. The fragile and thin boy hadn't gotten his height yet. Compared to the other boys at school he wasn't very big at all. Carefully his hands slipped under each plate and lifted it from the table grabbing each one to stack on the other. The kitchen was lonely, his grandmother had left him to clean up the mess and go watch television in the living room. Piling the dishes into the sink he began to wash them dish by dish.
When he was done drying them Jonny stacked the plates on top of each other and proceeded to walk to the other end of the kitchen to put them away. The floor had been wet below him from being less than graceful at washing. It was the best he could do with his hieght, water was bound to get in other places. Jonny lost his footing but he caught his balance instead of dropping to the floor. He couldn't let that happen....
It seemed to move in slow motion. The bottom plate had slipped from his finger slightly making the second wobble, it caused a chain reaction eventually tilting and then crashing the plates to the floor. The sound was terrible. Jonny felt himself break inside with all the dishes crashing to the tile.
“Jonny?” An old woman’s voice cracked from the darkness of the living room. She quickly went into a ramble that he couldn't understand but had rehearsed all to well. He was a terrible child, a horrible child, a wicked child....He couldn't do anything right or good in anyone’s eyes, how could he? He was the devils child.
Jonny heart felt like it was going to beat out of his small chest. His eyes darted around the room, he knew she was coming. Quickly he turned back to the sink that had started the whole mess and opened the cupboard below it. Being as small as he was he climbed in with no trouble and all and closed both of them behind him.
He heard his Grandmother enter the kitchen. He kept his silence, feeling a tear roll down his cheek which he proceeded to wipe with his sleeve.He was terrified, his knees were hugged tightly to his chest. Something inside him tried to tell him that he would be safe in the darkness. Nothing could get him here in it's cold embrace. It was soothing, and all he had...
“Joooonnnnnnyyyyyyy” The voice toyed with him moving around the kitchen and what seemed out of it for a moment. He heard the footsteps on the tile walking away from his position but the voice continued. “Three blind mice.....Three blind mice....See how they run.....See how they run...” His grandmother began to chant as she walked between the rooms looking for him. She had a sick obsession with nursery rhymes. “They all ran after the farmer's wife....Who cut off their tails with a carving knife...” The voice was getting closer again. The boys heart raced, he felt like a mouse. “Did you ever see such a sight in your life...”
“As...Three...Blind....Mice...” Suddenly the cupboard was ripped open and Jonny screamed at the sight of her. She grabbed him by the arm and ripped him out of the darkness with relative ease. He fought, he kicked, he screamed. He felt the cover of the darkness getting further and further away from him. His hand scrapped the tile as he was drug out. Trying to cling to anything, anything that would help him get away.
“You're a wicked child and must be Punished!” She snapped at him dragging him out of the kitchen by his arm. He knew what was coming.
- - -
Nothing about his posture had changed as he went through the event. He was numb to it to a certain extent at least from an outside perspective. His grandmother he didn't like talking about. He didn't have to talk about the real problem though, the one that he would refuse to let Nigma have.His mind continued to try and live in this illusion. He remained firm that Nigma wouldn't win in this, but he was breaking...
Fear was his tool. His grandmother who caused so much fear in his life was just another victim of it in the end. He had gained back control of that situation...An unstable sinister smile appeared on Dr. Cranes lips as he chanted softly.
“Three...Blind...Mice....”
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Post by Deleted on Mar 24, 2012 9:57:02 GMT -5
Hearing the story hit something uncomfortable with Edward, and it appeared on his face in a small frown before he tried to cover it up with a blank expression. How many times had Edward hidden under the stairs, under beds, tables, cabinets? Hearing the story only made him think of his own panic situations where his heart screamed against his rib cage. The knowledge of what was going to happen froze him stiff. As Edward looked down at the man trapped in his world, he had not expected to see someone who knew…who knew what it was like to live every day in fear.
He shifted uncomfortably not liking how these similarities seemed to arise. He couldn’t even enjoy how broken Jonathan looked at this point. Edward had finally managed to crack something in the man, yet the joy of accomplishment was taken away. Of course Jonathan would manage to turn this in his favor! Of course Jonathan would not allow Edward to feel his success! It infuriated him. Edward controlled the man by a mere press of a button. He had solved the riddle. Jonathan wasn’t winning. Jonathan would not bring Edward into his own darkness.
The smile that appeared on the man’s lips only made Edward angrier. His eyes narrowed, not understanding. It did not make sense. Did Jonathan think that now since he had faced his darker past the riddle was over?
Edward needed to calm himself. He closed his eyes for a moment and leaned his head back against the chair. His mind went into his thoughts instead of stupidly focusing on his emotions. He needed to consider this as a math problem. He needed to separate himself from his own nightmare of a past. It did not matter if they had an understanding of hateful family because they had turned out completely different. Jonathan obsessed himself with fear, probably out of some subconscious desire for revenge over the fear he felt. Edward merely had a short tolerance for idiots. It had nothing to do with his father. Nothing at all….at least that was what he told himself.
Focus, Nigma.
The grandmother had tortured Jonathan, and it somehow involved birds. The question of why had easily been determined with the mention of god, and if Jonathan had failed to mention it, he would have come to the conclusion of the rhyme. The fact that Jonathan remembered that rhyme in particular meant something. Edward did not make it his job to study nursery rhymes, but the more famous ones he had learned as a child. Three Blind Mice was in reference to the three noblemen that went against the church under Queen Mary. A rhyme that stemmed from religion could not have been a random connection. It appeared like Jonathan’s grandmother was attempting to cleanse him for the Lord. The action was quite a determined action, and the woman must have thought him dirty for a reason.
A child is usually seen as precious in most family, and the most innocent. Edward’s father hatred and punishment stemmed from his father’s stupidity and jealousy. Jonathan’s grandmother action seemed completely religious. It is far too difficult for a child to sin at the beginning of their birth, so how would she come to a conclusion that he had sin.
“I never knew my father,” he repeated Jonathan’s previous words to himself, as he sat up opening his eyes. His hands reached to his desk, barely glancing on the remote. It reminded him that Jonathan did indeed answer the question correctly, so he pressed the button that loosened the change quickly. He then grabbed his notebook and pen. Jonathan’s mother must not have been married to the man, which was a sin itself. Having Jonathan then was an abomination. Only a religious person would stupidly punish the thing that did not have a choice instead of the person who created the punishment.
Birds? He scribbled on the notepad and then started writing how they could connect to religion. In the bible birds were primarily used as messengers from god. It was an interesting thought, but he wasn’t certain where he could go with it. He knew one thing though. He knew where Jonathan’s grandmother must have taken him to punishment because she herself would not be able to successfully administrate it. No, it had to be done by the ‘almighty’ Lord.
He pulled his eyes from the notepad to Jonathan who was still in the position hanging. He was closer to the ground now. His feet almost touching. “I am curious, how could your grandmother punish you in a church? I would have assumed a priest would have stopped such attempts, unless he was involved. But you do not seem to have a particular grudge against religious workers, so I am assuming not. So my question,” he began fiddling his pen in his fingers, “which church did your grandmother bring you to be cleanse?”
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Mar 25, 2012 1:50:38 GMT -5
Dr. Cranes eyes lifted from the world they had left into and stared into the projection of The Riddler. The chanting of the rhyme stopped not getting further into it. He had remembered many as a child being constantly plagued with them by his grandmother. How many times did he beg his mother not to take him there? He wasn't sure, all he knew was that she had never cared about him. She never said she loved him. That was all before he had realized the reasons why, something that he craved when he was a child that never truly existed. There was only one thing in life, one true emotion, the essence of all the others.
His eyes scanned over Nigma as he leaned back and thought about what he had said in whatever he was sitting in. Was he trying to figure him out still? That was one thing he would never accomplish, it couldn't be done, not even by the great Edward Nigma. Many had tried and none had succeeded. He could know all about his past and it still wouldn't give him the answer that only Dr. Crane knew. Nigma thought he could even begin to scratch the surface of what made him work? He did welcome the nightmare, so he's welcome to try....
As all were welcome to try. It was always interesting sitting down with a doctor at Arkham, someone doing what use to be his job. They all thought that they were above him, that they were his better. He was just a crazy man obsessed with fear. Dr. Crane knew what they thought, he had seen his own file, he had read their reports, and listened to their opinions about him. They could never seem to stop having an opinion. There was one truth among it all, they were all afraid of him. He could tell from the moment they walked into his cell and sat down. Their eyes would meet his, but turn away, to their notes or the room. No one could analyze him, no one could figure him out and as they quickly found out; soon they were apart of his therapy session.
Nigma wouldn't be an exception to this. The few thoughts that pressed to the front of his mind about how Nigma had confronted him made any expression that was left leave. His thoughts were interrupted by his chains suddenly being loosened again. He pulled his limbs as much as he could, trying to get more circulation and see exactly how much room he had now. It wasn't much, and he still couldn't feel the floor, but he knew he was close.
Something caught the corner of his eyes during the struggle and brought his gaze back to the projection screen. As soon as he had heard the games rules he had formulated a plan to get out of this trap, seeing that Nigma was focused on something lower than him put a confidence in him that what he planed to do would work. From the way his eyes were moving he was reading or writing something. It would be perfect, the problem was he needed to have his feet on the ground...and...
His eyes lifted from Nigma's thoughtful position and stared into the cage above him again. The sight made him turn his head away and look to the side of him. How was he going to focus among god knows how many of those things?..Was he scared? Dr. Crane blinked a few times trying to get his focus back, No...He wasn't scared...He feared nothing....He was fear..
Finally Nigma began to speak after a silence had hung in the air for a few long moments. How could she punish him in a church? It was a road he remembered well, and didn't care to go down. This was the one thing he didn't want to have to talk about, it could have been anything else than that God forsaken place. It was God forsaken, there was no redemption there, there was no God there. Which church was he brought to to be cleansed?...That was certainly the reason, but he had never felt cleansed from anything.
The life left his eyes and seemed to go into another world. In his mind he could see and feel everything like it was happening at that moment. The sounds of the gravel cracking under his grandmothers old truck. The deep mans voice ringing from the radio reciting old hymns. The old dilapidated and long abandoned church just up the road, coming slowly into view.
Dr. Crane blinked and cringed moving his head from it's position to the other side. Looking into nothing. He didn't want to talk about this, he didn't want to go into detail and he certainly wasn't going to be looking at anyone while he spoke about it. “There was no priest...” He began slowly trying to choose his words very carefully. “The church was up the road from my grandmother's home, a short drive...It was...” He paused and collected himself trying not to show that it bothered him to talk about. “It had been long abandoned, it was falling apart. There was no people or priests or God in that place.” His breath quickened. His heart raced, losing his thoughts in his words. “It was only home to...” He stopped himself looking up to the winged demons above him.
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