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Oh, this made me feel sad, which really just means you did a good job of relaying the message to the audience.
Since we're kind of chatting about description, you should know I think it was well done here. You kind of hit it in the action- his fearful blue eyes, or I pushed a loose strand of dark brown hair back into place.
It just flowed into place- no stopping for a character description.
I don't know much about Batman, but I love fanfiction, and I think its clever that your character actually has a history with a villan, and that he was a bully, not some poor victim.
I think the regret and sorrow he feels about the way he treated Crane gets a little repetetive, but the way he can't shake it also shows how sincere he is so I wouldn't suggest cutting very much out.
I enjoyed it- if you post some more I'd be generally happy to read it. If its too sad, you'll have to warn me cause sad things tend to stick with me for the rest of the day.

Princess: I actually ran this by a friend before posting it, and I did cut some unnecessary detail (like, one or two lines, but I did fall into that trap again). I learned a while ago that sneaking description in with action tends to work when done right.

The Batman fandom in general is pretty psychological, which is an appeal for me. A lot of the villains are regular people (i.e., no superpowers---or at least, not ones they were born with. Case in point: Poison Ivy) with extreme obsessions and talents to match, and often tread into gray areas based on their psyche and motivations. And they tend to be insane.

I realized on my recent comic binge that when the bullies come up, either they are just mentioned for back story, or when they come up in revenge schemes, they seem to have no idea why the Scarecrow is tormenting them (sometimes persisting even after he clues them in). So what if one of them actually did feel regret before Crane managed to get his hands on him? And if a comic already did this, I clearly do not have it.

Considering this is a fic that will involve the Scarecrow...put it simply, he is a cruel, cruel b*****d whenever he gets revenge. My favorite example: to punish him, his great-grandmother (who raised him alone) tainted his Sunday suit with chemicals that attracted wild crows. She then trained them to attack him by doing the same thing to the scarecrow out in their yard---only she put a rat in the mix so they were rewarded with food, and thus likely to do it again. They recognized the smell and attacked Jonathan whenever dear old Granny locked him this old church/aviary in their backyard (he grew up on old, dying plantation. Plenty of land, and no one nearby to hear him scream).

When he figured out how she did it, he intensified her formula, turned the tables on her, and killed her. This is made even creepier with how he later discusses it in casual conversation, just to show how disassociated he is with the fact that he, oh, killed someone in a horrible manner. To be fair, with how she raised him, she had it coming...

That said, expect tears, because the revenge scheme I have planned is likely going to push a few emotional buttons. And this being the Scarecrow, he likes to play on a person's worst fears.

This is your warning, but I will post an additional one for chapters that get a bit extreme.

Desert: I maintained the attention of a sleepy college student! Do I get a prize? ;D [/kidding]

Thanks, both of you. ^^

As a note, a lot of things here are probably going to change. There is other information I want to present (and I have it written in another file), and I have been working on trying to insert it without breaking the flow. Some of it will likely end up in this chapter if I cannot find another place to put it (though how I am going to place it is another matter...). If I greatly change this chapter, I will re-post it.

In any case, this is what I have so far.

Princess, a bit of a sadness warning, as there is a tragic/horrible memory involved, some creepy imagery, and (somewhat heavy) foreshadowing to greater tragedy.



The school stretched out over the grassy fields as my car made its way closer. We were still a bit of a distance away, but I clearly saw the building, an old redbrick two-story high school. It had a fairly large parking lot, and a path cut through to the main road, but the rest of it was green with a few trees scattered here and there.

I found a space that was not too far from the school and parked. Judging by the number of cars here already, it seemed only a few members of our class had arrived so far.

I got out of the car and walked to the other side to get Lucy's door. She carefully stepped into the lot, pulling the ends of her sun dress out of the way as I shut it. I looked over at the entrance where several people were mingling already. Taking Lucy's arm, we walked over to see just who had arrived.

Ricky Butcherson was here. He still wore an eye patch after that incident with the finch. So was Marvin Taylor. He's put on a lot of weight since I last saw him. Owen Thomas, Dean Partridge, Susie Wilkins, Lauren Hobbs, Freddy Gilmore---so many of my old friends and classmates made it, and I found myself beaming with joy to be reunited with them.

“Hey, Schmidt!”

I turned to see Billy Black come up. Billy was one of my best friends back in the day, but we lost touch about three years after high school. He was a slightly short, stocky kid, not much taller now than he was in high school. His blonde hair was cropped and neatly combed to the side, and he wore some old but clean slacks and a polo. In comparison to my memory of a long-haired, pot-smoking rouser in jeans with holes in both knees, he certainly changed a lot.

“Billy!”

We ran up to each other and shook hands, then gave a quick, one-armed hug.

“Glad you could make it,” I said.

“Yeah, me too!”

“It's been years. How come you never called?”

“I've been busy. Why haven't you?”

“Traveling. Business.”

We walked down the hall towards the gym. Lucy saw some of her friends converging, and left me and Billy alone. As we walked past the lockers, Billy snerked and looked over at one set.

“I wonder if it's still there,” he said.

“If what's still there?” I asked.

“I carved a little picture into the pillar over there,” he said, pointing to one of the large divides that separated a group of lockers. He examined it, and grinned. “Yup. Still here!”

I came over to look. It was very small, probably scratched in with the tip of a safety pin. It was a dumb sketch of a stick figure with two horns coming off its head, and holding a badly-drawn pitchfork. I had to admit, I was a little surprised that no teachers caught it and had it painted over.

“Say, Jordan,” he said suddenly.

“What?”

“Do you remember the locker prank?”

“What locker prank?”

“The one with the bird?”

I suddenly felt sick. I didn't want to think about it; I just wanted to get to the gym and enjoy the reunion.

“Yeah,” I said.

“They never found out who did that, did they?”

“No.”

“Any idea who did do it?”

“No.”

Billy laughed a little.

“I wish I knew. That was a good one, wasn't it?”

I quickly changed the subject.

“I think they're gonna start soon. Let's go see who else is here.”

Billy nodded and started to walk towards the gym. I hung back for a few seconds before I slowly followed him.

Why did you have to bring that up? I thought bitterly.

The locker prank had to be one of the sickest ones any of us had ever done. It wasn't by far the worst---there were many that could easily hold that title---but it was certainly the grossest, most disturbed prank any of us could have pulled.

It was just after lunch, and the halls were crowded. Crane always ate alone, as far away from the rest of us as he could. I don't remember if he chose the library to hide in, or outside in a corner of the school where no one else liked to sit. It didn't matter either way.

He walked up to his locker and entered the combination. Nearly every other locker required a bang or two to open; Crane's was especially bad because we were always slamming him into it or inside of it. After he fiddled with it for several minutes and got it open, he let out a terrified scream and jumped back. Everyone turned to look.

A crow, clearly dead from the rotting maggots falling out of its eyes, sprung out at him, its wings poised as though it were ready to attack. It was loaded on a spring, which was stuck to the locker wall with no less than four layers of duct tape. Feathers and maggots dropped from its dead body, and glistening red paint dripped from its beak. The inside door was also dripping red paint, with “NEVERMORE, SCARECROW!” painted in large, deformed letters.

Most kids were laughing. Some of them gave looks of disgust, and a few, “ewws” were heard among the laughter. For a few seconds, no one noticed Crane on the floor, curled up and with his hands over his face as if the dead bird was going to attack him. I saw him just as he was getting up, his face clearly red, his body visibly trembling, his belongings scattered all over the floor from when he dropped them.

No one bothered to help as he scrambled to get his things. He didn't even bother to shut the locker; he just grabbed what he needed and bolted down the hall to the taunts and jeers and---to the more savvy of us who picked up on his reaction---bird calls. He stepped on his own shoelace and slammed into another locker, nearly dropping his supplies again. After getting to his feet a second time, he turned the corner and disappeared from sight.

A teacher, Mr. Larson, came at that point and pushed through the crowd to see what the commotion was about. Everyone started to settle down as he made his way. Mr. Larson was one of those teachers that no one liked to mess with. We were all quiet by the time he saw Crane's locker.

“Who did this?” he demanded.

No one answered. No one owned up. Mr. Larson had all of the “usuals” come in, which was most of the football team, me, and a few others who were more or less known for picking on Crane. He couldn't get any of us to fess up, and he couldn't punish us without any proof, though he did threaten to suspend the members of the football team if they didn't admit to it. It didn't work. None of them had done it.

Crane didn't go near his locker for weeks. He tried harder than ever to avoid us, to pretend it didn't happen. But the damage was already done. The way he curled up and trembled and tried to defend himself---he gave away a weakness. And it was a weakness we would continue to exploit until graduation.

The teachers tried to locate the culprit, but they were never found. I knew, though. I knew who found that dead bird and brought it to school. I knew who managed to get the locker combination from the school records. I knew who sneaked out of class a little early just to rig it up and paint our favorite nickname inside the locker door before the lunch bell rang.

I knew because I did it.

My stomach churned a little. I consoled myself because I eased up on Crane for about a week after that, but old habits die hard. I wish I stopped then and there. I didn't.

I blinked a few times as the memory faded. What was I doing?

Oh, yeah. The reunion.

Doing my best to banish the memory to back of my thoughts where it belonged, I quickly ran to catch up with Billy. We got to the gym shortly enough, and I was determined to not let Crane bother me for the rest of the day.

Let it go, Jordan, I told myself. These things happened years ago. Nothing I do now will change it, and it's far too late to fix anything.

I heard laughter and music in the gym, and immediately, my mood lifted. I saw Lucy wave over at me. I returned it, then went to find Billy.



One thing I was toying with was putting the revelation of the prankster later, but that really depends on if things work out the way I want them to. I already changed the plot drastically from what I originally intended with the reunion (more on that later).

In any case, I leave you to rip it apart, question, comment, etc.

I want to do that normally whenever I read one of the comics.
That prank is not too far off from actual pranks some of the bullies pulled in canon (let me put it this way: aside from "Scarecrow," they also called him "Ichabod," and one prank pretty much replayed the ending of The Legend of Sleepy Hollow...). Normally followed (eventually) by a nice bit of revenge when Crane can get the time and resources to do it. Sometimes a bit too disproportionate to the crime, as evidenced by him leaving victims dead or worse...

I will see about editing it to have Jordan interact more before going off with Billy, because you are right. It does seem a bit cut short.

I torment my own characters too. I love emotional turmoil. It provides a nice bit of conflict and when done right, adds just the right amount of tragedy and complication.

I admit I am mostly in the fandom for the villains (after Scarecrow, my favorites are Harley Quinn and the Joker. After them, it literally varies by day who I like next. Today I feel kind of "Riddler" ), but you can mostly thank a childhood friend for getting me started. Name a superhero, and he was into it, but Batman was the only one I honed in onto myself. I started with the Batman: The Animated Series cartoon and graduated into the comics. I use both as a source.

I am the same way when it comes to villains. I like the most current version of Jonathan's back story because it makes him more complex. You have his great-grandmother (as mentioned above---she was also a crazy religious b***h), being bullied at school, having to grow up a b*****d in the 60's-70's, and having both parents abandon him---though, partially in his mother's defense, she was kicked out after her "little folly," (she was a teenager), and there is a chance she might have wanted him, but his father fled as soon as he realized she was pregnant. Which could be why she abandoned him too. Who wants to raise a child alone?

And it was not that Crane did not try to make the best of it. He picked up very quickly on people using fear to get what they wanted (hence his obsession with it, and his eventual desire to understand it in its entirety), and moved to show that he learned his lessons well. He even did this legitimately at first: he got amazing grades despite his torment, taught himself some aspects of chemistry (see: above mentioned revenge with the crows), turned to studies both as an escape and to better himself, and eventually grew up to be a college professor. And it could have ended right there if he did not fire a gun in class to make a point about fear...

The comics make it clear it was not any one thing that put him on the path to crime: it was numerous things, failure to escape those things/change his path, and then the straw that broke the camel's back. Even so, it is still clear that even if he could not prevent all of it, other parts (like the gun in class and the revenge scheme with the crows---he did that before he was out of high school, even!) were entirely his choice and entirely his fault, so he is not a completely blameless victim. And no, they do not treat the back story as an excuse for his actions. He is still a terrorist (quite literally in this case), and his schemes still need to be stopped.

It is a few steps up from frightening birds as a kid and moving onto people...well, that and being mocked for his raggedy wear by fellow professors because he would rather buy books than update his wardrobe. Yeah, that is a great reason to turn to crime... [/sarcasm] Have to love how they thought in the 1940's. Yes, Batman and most of his classic villains are that old.

After working on the next two chapters, I hit a snag. The easiest way to fix it is to take Lucy out, which solves the issue of keeping her or not. Which is good, because I found a much better way to re-work what I wanted to do now that she is out of the way. I mention it to explain why she randomly disappears.

The girls I randomly mentioned will also be changed to boys. The next chapter (when I finish it) will shift the focus a bit. It remains to be seen if further warning is needed, as I did want to make this one tame (the chapter after, however, will definitely need a warning), but the build up might stray from that plan. Here is hoping I finish it today or tomorrow.

I intended to make Jordan's daughter a bit of a plot point. I can say now that there will be a warning when she crops up again.

That seriously was how his great-grandmother came off to me in the comics. The kind of woman you do not cross or dare put a toe out of line if you are in the same room with her (and in Crane's case, he had a very good reason: the aviary threat was [usually---in his own words, "a child's curiosity knows no bounds"] enough to keep him out of trouble). There is a picture in her room where she and Jonathan appear to be at some formal event. She has her hands on his shoulder and is smiling like a cat that got the canary, and his expression is...grim and forlorn. It is an "I do not want to be here, but I really have no choice" kind of look. It could easily be taken as a symbol of the control she had.

This is a character who only appears for something like...six-seven pages in around a hundred, half of them wordless. Yet the writer managed to make her a powerful influence and undertone in other parts.

I had to do that with characters who were just too good in my original works. Some of them were taken out entirely; others were reduced down to much smaller roles, but I have separate stories for the parts I could not contain in the main story.

Jordan is just going to be in the car alone. Which, I actually like better; it gives him less to distract him from his guilt.