Stephanie's Second First Halloween

Chapter 5: Jonathan Crane Has No Idea How Children Work

It had been an accident, really. Jonathan honestly hadn't intended to cause any trouble at all. Sure, in the past, Halloween had been a time for a rather unique sort of celebration. The kind that ended with an extended stay in Arkham.

But that had been before he'd had people to celebrate with. Besides Corvin, anyways, and he shared his taste in celebrations so didn't really count. Nowadays, Halloween was a relatively relaxing time with no work and lots of candy.

Could he really help that he'd taken a vial or nine of Fear Toxin along? He brought the stuff with him everywhere, it made him feel safe! How was he supposed to know that the satchel Jervis made him bring ("It matches your outfit much better than that old bag, March Hare!") would rip so very easily? Sure, his normal bag was reinforced against Corvin's claws, and he should've thought about it, but...

This was his fault, wasn't it? Jervis and Edward were huddled on the ground trying to overcome the urge to run, everyone around them was panicked and sobbing (even children! Oh, what had he done?), and he was failing at comforting Stephanie. At least his Scarecrow Mask was enough filter for her to be unaffected by the Toxin itself (he'd converted it to be part gas mask after the Bat had developed chemicals that actually affected Demons), but seeing everyone else so terrified was definitely upsetting her.

"Hush Child, there there now." He said awkwardly, gently patting her back. He'd been an adult psychologist, he had no idea how the mind might differ with children. "I know it's scary, but everything shall be alright. They'll all be fine in an hour. Or two." Or possibly four. Dammit.

"What's happening to them?" She cried, her voice muffled by the mask. He couldn't see her eyes behind the orange lenses, but he knew they were probably wide in fear. He hated that he had to take a moment to stop himself from purposefully making it worse.

"They have been exposed to a chemical substance of my own invention. I've dubbed it 'Fear Toxin'." Was she too young for this? Most of his social circle were insane and/or geniuses, and he'd met them all past childhood (not long past in some cases, but still), he had absolutely no clue where her cognitive development was at. "This particular strain causes panic and mild hallucinations, but nothing too bad." They weren't reliving past trauma or going through their innermost terrors, at any rate.

"Why would you make something like that?" Stephanie asked. Something about her body language shifted, and she backed away from him. "Are you a bad man like Daddy?"

"Um..." How in tarnation was he supposed to answer that one?! The answer wasn't 'no', precisely, but it sure as Hell ain't 'yes' either. He didn't go around killing random people, he didn't hurt the elderly (unless they deserved it), didn't hurt children (even if they deserved it). He wasn't exactly a saint either, though. "I'm not like your father, Child. I do not attack the innocent for nothing but my own sick pleasures." Maybe that hadn't been the best way to put it. How much did she know of her father's crimes, again? Oh, Ed was going to get him for this...

"Then why?" It was a little hard to believe she wasn't Edward's biological child, with how often she questioned things.

Jonathan took too long to think, but Corvin clicked and whistled an answer he dutifully translated. "Edward cannot lie. He is obsessed with puzzles and riddles. You know this, yes?"

"Yeah. He's different, like Daddy was." Stephanie answered. She hesitantly added, "Not exactly like Daddy, though."

"He is broken, Child." Was that too blunt? "So was your father, and so am I. Instead of questions and games, I obsess on fear. I cannot help it, but I try to direct it at those who deserve it. Or those who volunteer." He had made mistakes, lost himself and hurt people, but he liked to think he'd managed to spare the innocent 90% of the time.

"Who would volunteer for this?!" Stephanie gestured to where Edward and Jervis were tightly holding onto each other, whimpering and mumbling. Everyone else on the block had already run away or locked themselves in their houses.

Who would volunteer? Drug addicts, people who really needed money, idiotic rich socialites, teens on a dare (not that he let them), the rare few who truly believed in the research like he did... Jonathan had the feeling that wouldn't exactly calm her down. Really, his friends were overacting, they should have a much higher resistance after knowing him for so long!

...And pointing that out wouldn't be helpful, would it?