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“Please,” the man begs through his sobs. “Please, I have a wife, children-”“Yes, yes yes,” Edward says impatiently. “You have a wife and a family and a dog and a cat, choose a door.”The man does, and Edward hears a jolt of electricity and a piercing scream and chuckles. “Wrong door, moron.”
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Scarecrow looks over the screaming men, women, and children in the streets from his rooftop perch and cackles in delight.His formula works like a charm as his ‘specimens,’ rip themselves and each other to pieces before his eyes.God, he loves Halloween.
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“Riddle me this,” Edward says breathlessly. “What’s long and hard and has cum in it?“Bruce pulls away from where he was leaving bruises on Edward’s neck to glare at him. “Edward. Seriously?”“A cucumber. Riddle me-” Bruce’s mouth covers Edward’s before he can get out another word.
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“How is it coming?” Edward asks, holding as still as possible.Ellen looks up from her sketchbook and smiles. “Just a few more minutes. Try not to move, the light’s hitting you just right.”Edward does as his daughter asks and holds still. He has other things to do of course, but Ellen’s art project needs come first.
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Every once in a while, Selina feels like a night in.So she sits in the middle of the sofa, Pam to her left, Harley to her right, watching some baking show on Netflix that all three of them like.Yes, Selina thinks as she settles in, it’s nice to have a night in.
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“For the last time, I am not dressing up for this damn Halloween party.”“Oh, please Jon, for me?”Jonathan growls then takes the Freddy Krueger costume from Edward’s hands, cursing him and his irresistible pout the whole damn time.
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Jonathan has lived on this Earth for nearly half a century, yet he doesn’t think he’s ever met a group of people he despises more than the shrieking, gibbering, narcissistic, preening, maniacal, weak fools he’s been saddled with in this Godforsaken bedlam.“Hi, Professah Crane!” Harley calls out from across the room before bounding up to him and giving him a hug.The fact that Jonathan doesn’t respond by shoving her away or worse is proof enough that he doesn’t despise every person in Arkham.
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There’s a definite spring to Edward’s step as he walks down the sidewalk leading towards his apartment, humming an old Gene Kelly tune as he does so.In fact, he’s so pleased with himself that he grabs hold of a street lamp pole and swings himself around with one hand belting out for all the world to hear him “What a glorious feeling, I’m happy again!”No one pays him much mind as he does this, it’s far from the most ridiculous thing Gotham citizens have ever seen the Riddler do.
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Harley opens the door to find a motley of children, some dressed as princesses, some as monsters, three as Batman and even one as her outside, all with their bags and plastic pumpkin containers open wide.“Trick or treat!” a dozen tiny voices sound off at once, and even though Harley is a Ph.D. well into her thirties, she can’t help but squeal in delight herself.“Happy Halloween, ya little imps!” she says, funneling as much candy as she can give to them, including an extra Hershey bar for the little girl dressed as her.
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In a way, Jonathan thinks, it might be better if Edward was just dead.
There would have been a sense of closure at least, instead of this limbo, where Edward is out there in an unlisted Gotham hospital somewhere, comatose, hooked up to machines, unable to interact with the world around him, out there where Jonathan cannot get to him either to stand vigil, or put him out of his misery, or even just to hold his hand one more time.
Edward is gone, out of his reach, and now all Jonathan does is scribble away at a new formula and bide his time, all Jonathan has left is Scarecrow, fear, and revenge.
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It’s 4 am when Jonathan finally abandons his formulas and chemicals and staggers up the basement steps.Edward is still lying back on the couch when he enters the living room, and he looks up with a theatrical flourish. “Ah! Look who’s returned! Lazarus himself!” He considers his lover with a raised eyebrow that somehow conveys his concern. “You look even more appalling than usual.”Jonathan scoffs. “Bless your heart, Edward,” then he says a bit more softly, “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”Edward shrugs. “Someone has to make sure you don’t drop dead in your ‘laboratory’ one of these days, and it certainly doesn’t seem like it’s going to be you,” He gets up from the couch then and takes one of Jonathan’s slender, aging hands into his own. “Come, dearest. Time for bed.”
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Some days are harder than others.Some days, he’ll be finishing up his morning routine and it won’t quite be his reflection in the mirror, but another him, a him with a cruel gleam in his eyes obscured by a domino mask, a him who shakes his head in pity and asks what he’s doing, why is he still going along with this farce, when is he going to go back to who he was really meant to be?It used to be easier to ignore him.
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Edward’s been staring at the blank sheet of paper in front of him for hours, ever since he started to feel that old itch again, the one in his brain that he can’t quite scratch, the one that only abates when he puts pen to paper and scribbles out riddles again.It would be so easy he thinks, to go back, to don the old domino mask again, to engage his only rival in the grand game again, to finally prove his intellectual superiority over the Dark Knight, to fail, to be taken back to Arkham to sleep in a bare room on a hard cot, to be under the watchful, smug gaze of Bolton, to only see his daughter through the glass of the Arkham visiting room, to never see Penelope again, to prove that Bullock and Sharp and Strange were right all along.Instead, Edward pushes the paper away and reaches for the bottle of medication he was supposed to take a half an hour ago, he’s already lost everything once, he doesn’t think he can survive it a second time.
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Dr. Leland told him at the very beginning that this reformation would be difficult, but not today.Today, Edward’s cracked a smuggling operation that has left GCPD stumped for months, he’s seen the ringleaders taken away in handcuffs, he’s the apple of the eye of every reporter in Gotham City, his phone is buzzing with messages of congratulations from his friends and loved ones, and there’s no Batman in sight to show him up.Some days are harder than others, but today, today Edward is happy.
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It’s tempting to forget, the longer Penelope spends in Edward’s company, that he was formerly a notorious criminal, that he has killed people in the not too distant past.Tempting, but not possible.They were at her office late one Friday and it was dark out when they left, to where they were parked separately on the street. She wasn’t paying attention to her surroundings and a man emerges from the shadows with a knife to her back, demanding her money, and she reflexively screams.Edward is there in an instant, and the sight of a former Rogue scares the man into dropping his switchblade and attempting to run, but that doesn’t satisfy Edward and he grabs the man and tosses him to the ground. The man barely has time to grunt before Edward’s pulled out his sword cane and has the tip of the blade at his throat.“Riddle me this,” he says in a tone that is all too familiar to Penelope. “I begin and have no end and I end all that begins. Who am I?” The man begs for mercy as Edward lifts the blade slightly. “I am Death.”Penelope finds her voice just before Edward stabs him. “Don’t!”Edward pauses, which allows the man to scramble to his feet and run down the dark street. Edward takes a deep breath, then reassembles his cane before saying, “Well, that was amusing. Perhaps let me walk you to your car next time?”Penelope remembers now all too clearly that Edward has killed before and has just demonstrated that he has no qualms about killing again and all she can do is nod.
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Most of Joan’s colleagues don’t believe that Edward really has amnesia, and she can’t blame them she supposes, it wouldn’t be the first time a patient’s pulled that con.When she enters the exam room the rehabilitation center has set up for psychiatric sessions and sees Edward in person for the first time since she’d left Arkham years ago, she hardly recognizes the withdrawn, visibly frightened man as the Riddler.“Hello, Edward,” she says gently as she takes the seat next to him. “My name is Dr. Joan Leland. I used to treat you at Arkham. Do you remember me?”Edward shakes his head and speaks in a guarded, resigned, heartbreakingly sad tone that Joan had never believed he was capable of. “No. I’m sorry. I don’t.”And Joan knows in that instant that this isn’t a game, that Edward’s lost himself. “It’s alright,” she says. “I’m here to help you. We’ll get through this together.”
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Halloween was not a holiday celebrated at Arkham, lest Crane get any ideas, but GCPD was a different matter, much to Aaron’s delight.He came to the party fully decked out as a pirate, complete with hat, dress coat and an African grey parrot he’d borrowed from his aunt Francine.Aaron almost bust his gut laughing when the bird told Bullock to ‘fuck off’ when he tried to pet it.
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Gordon walked into GCPD and into an office covered with streamers and balloons.“Happy Birthday, Commish!” Bullock and a few other officers shouted, handing him crudely wrapped presents and a slice of cake.Gordon rolled his eyes at their display but smiled all the same.
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“Hey! Spooky!”Jonathan slowly opened his eyes and turned over on his stiff cot to see Aaron Cash standing awkwardly in front of his cell door, holding a blanket in his arms, “Dr. Arkham says it’s gonna be chilly tonight. Here’s an extra blanket for you.” Cash opened the cell door and deposited the blanket inside, then shut the door and walked down the hall.Jonathan got up off of his hard cot and took the blanket, making a mental note that the next time he attempted an escape, to spare Cash.
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Gordon had never believed that Jonathan Crane had any regard for human life, until the first time Joker had escaped from Arkham after…after Barbara had been released from the hospital.Joker had been found a day later, tied to a wooden stake in a field just outside Gotham, bloody and bruised, with a note pinned on his chest that read ‘To Commissioner Gordon, with my sincerest Regards. Jonathan Crane.’Even the Scarecrow, the Master of Fear himself, had some standards.
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Alex wasn’t sure what he expected to see on Halloween night in Gotham city, but the sight of Scarecrow riding a horse and swinging a scythe down Main Street sure wasn’t it.Maybe it’s the alcohol in his blood or his natural lack of fear, but instead of running inside for cover as Scarecrow passes him, he shouts “Happy Halloween, Bro!”Scarecrow must be in a good mood tonight, for instead of turning around to swing at him or douse him with his fear gas, he cackles in delight and continues riding.
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It took some digging, but Bruce finally found an old Psychology Journal article that Crane had written years ago, before being the Scarecrow had taken over his life.Bruce almost hated to admit it, but the man was brilliant.He didn’t think it would do too much harm if Crane was sent this article, to remind him of who he used to be, of who he could become again.
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Aaron knows he shouldn’t, but sometimes he just has to puncture Nigma’s ego a bit.So he stops by Nigma’s cell in the morning and hands him a copy of the Gotham Gazette, one that Nigma takes eagerly, not knowing that Aaron’s already filled out the Crossword and the Sudoku puzzles.Aaron walks away, hears Nigma’s frustrated shout and laughs.
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“Look, Nigma,” Aaron says, his arms crossed, glaring at the reformed crook who was glaring back up at him in turn. “I don’t like you and I’m pretty sure you don’t like me,” Aaron sighs a bit, “But the Doc is a friend of mine, and I’m pretty sure you care about her too.” He holds out his right hand. “Truce?”Nigma looks disdainfully at it, then his eyes soften just a bit. “Truce,” he says, taking Aaron’s hand into his own and giving it a shake.
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“But why won’t you tell me what’s going on?” Ellen demands, her fists clenched at her sides. “I’m not a little kid! I can handle it! What are you so afraid of!?”That you’ll get hurt, Edward wants to say, that you’ll be used against me, that you’ll end up like me.Instead, he says, “I don’t have to explain my actions to anyone, child, especially not you,” and he tries to ignore the hurt look of betrayal on her face as he does so.
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After having his plans foiled (and his leg broken) by the Dark Knight, Jonathan was taken back to the infirmary at Arkham Asylum, where he was strapped to a bed and left alone.He didn’t know how long he’d been lying back in bed when he felt his mouth go dry. “Doctor,” he called out. “Could I get some water?” An orderly walked past him, gave him a frightened look, then hurried to exit the room. “Anyone?” Jonathan asked again. “Water, please?”Just when he thought that he’d be left alone for the rest of the night, he saw a young nurse, one of the new ones he thought approach his bedside cautiously and place a glass of water on the stand next to him. “Is-” she stuttered a bit before speaking up again. “Is there anything else I can get for you, Mr. Crane?”Jonathan took a long sip and said: “No, thank you, child.”
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Ever since Bolton started at Arkham Asylum, he’d hated Nigma’s guts.He’d hated all of the inmates, of course, but Nigma, with his ever-present smirk, his preening, his smart mouth, and his know it all attitude, the way he acted like he deserved something better than to be locked away and put down like the sick dog he was, really got on Bolton’s last nerve.And the way that the media fawns over him now, the way that people actually line up to hire him, the way that she looks at Nigma and smiles when she thinks no one else is looking, it’s almost more than he can bear.
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He was supposed to be having a meeting with Dr. Arkham, but Lyle Bolton walked into an empty office.When he turned to leave, the door slammed shut seemingly on its own and it was locked by the time Bolton attempted to pull, uselessly, on the doorknob.The sound of hissing suddenly reached his ears and he smelled something funny in the air, something pungent, but almost sweet and his heart started racing as soon as he realized what was going on. Gas.He began to holler and scream and pound at the door as the gas coming in from the AC system reached him and he began to see his old childhood terrors in front of him once more, and the only sound he heard in response was a high pitched, manic cackling coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once.“Happy Halloween, Lyle.”
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Gordon has a daughter, Jonathan finds out.She’s a bright thing, talented at computers, and the only light in the Commissioner’s dark world.Which should make her a tempting target, but Jonathan always holds back, for although she is the daughter of an enemy, she also reminds him of who he might have been in another life, so he can never bring himself to harm her.
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Barbara picks up the strangest things on communications sometimes.This week alone, she’s overheard Two Face’s henchmen debating over whether Joker was actually another form of Pennywise, a surprisingly domestic tiff between Riddler and Scarecrow, and Jason getting into a fistfight with a Mall Santa and losing.Frankly, it’s the most entertaining part of her evenings.
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Crane made it out of the museum entrance with his share of the loot under his arms, leaving behind a hall full of screaming, terrified patrons. He looked around for any sign of his partner. “Nigma? Where in the Hell did you get to?”“Up here!”Jonathan looks up to see Nigma standing on the facade that hung over the museum entrance, placing a green question marked trophy on top. “Perfect!”“Are you seriously wasting time playing with trophies?”“It’s not wasting time you basic bumpkin, it’s the whole point of this heist! Now, help me get down.”Jonathan considered him, then the blue and red lights he could see in the distance. “You’re the genius, get yourself down.” He ran off towards the getaway car, smirking just a bit at the curses the Riddler let out.