"Ignore him, he's an idiot. You know what to take. You talk to Leland, don't let a guard say anything. I got a medical degree, he's got... I don't even know. Did you finish high school, son? I fucking doubt it." Jonathan wasn't in the mood for Lyle yelling in his ear today and he didn't want to see another one of his... colleagues looking at him like that.
He came close to the bars, furious that Lyle had essentially driven Edward to escape and Delite to such misery. The only option he had - baiting him.
"Yell at me again, boy. See what fucking happens."
"Don't call me boy, you pathetic little man." Lyle let go of Delite in favour of grabbing Jonathan by the collar and pulling him up to the bars. "You fucking faggoty hick. Where the hell are you coming from, talking like that, when you're less than nothing, huh? You don't deserve to kiss my boots, freak."
At a bit of a loss, Delite was just watching them, unsure whether to interfere. Probably not much he could do. Still. "He's the best doctor I've ever had."
"That's just kinda sad than, isn't it? They don't got good doctors in China?"
And with that, Jonathan's temper snapped without meaning to and he pulled the pencil from out of his jumpsuit pocket and stabbed Lyle in the fucking hand with it, making sure it got in deep and twisting it hard before he was forced to yank it free and back off while Lyle was in shock. A pencil wasn't much of a weapon but Jonathan brandished it like it was a sword. Leland always sharpened them to a point, they were quite deadly.
"You racist piece of shit. You're damn lucky it wasn't your fucking eye but if you come near me again, it damn well will be." Jonathan felt his chest heaving and his pulse racing. Fear. He was afraid. He was anxious and afraid and he fucking hated it. "Don't fucking touch me."
At least it was making Delite laugh. On the other hand, Delite's response to violence was often laughter, hard to break that conditioning. Bolton was screaming, but clearly from anger more so than pain. He was glaring at Jonathan as he held his hand, eyes narrowed. "I'll make you regret that, freak. I'll fucking make you lick my boots for-- WILL YOU SHUT UP!?"
Sounding hysterical more than anything, Delite was still giggling, so Bolton grabbed him. "I'm going to lock your ladyboy here in solitary and then I'm going to deal with you. Maybe it's time we go to the showers again, huh? You faggot are practically begging for it."
"What? You wanna fuck me in the shower. Jesus, Bolton, you ain't my type." Jonathan dismissed as he looked him up and down before rolling his eyes. "Let's say I were a faggot - I wouldn't wanna fuck with the likes of you. Ugly ass ape."
Jonathan looked at Delite and hated that he couldn't help him. When he had half a chance, he'd jail break him. If he could. Maybe they'd have an option soon.
"Besides, the way you hold yourself, it's fucking textbook, son. Psychologically speaking, you're overcompensating. Small dick."
"Like I'd wanna be a freakshow like you with your monster dick," Bolton said mockingly, which did make Delite sober up, so he could interject a protest, very seriously.
"His dick is beautiful!" He was ready to defend it against anyone. Whether they wanted to hear about it or not.
"Christ, you fucking queer! Don't you have any pride? They don't teach you that, over there in ching chong?" Maybe he was doing it on purpose at this point, it was hard to say. "I'll give you a beating, you ugly ass fucker." That was directed at Jonathan again. "Maybe you should all just be castrated, might be better for the world."
"You're an evolutionary relic, Bolton. You'll die alone and hopefully, your bloodline too. Only child, right? Good." Jonathan smirked and spread his arms out. "Us Rogues, we ain't short of spreading ourselves around. We're gonna populate Gotham, we have the superior genes. You, my stupid moronic friend, are the doomed one here."
Lyle had a year. Tops. And the way he was going. Jonathan felt a week was more accurate.
Jonathan might be insecure and yes, very much not spreading his anything, but he didn't have to show that all off to Bolton. "You won't touch me again. Trust me. You touch me one more fucking time and I'm gonna end you."
There was some blinking, because evidently Bolton didn't follow all of this entirely. But finally he scoffed, then let out an unamused laugh. "You pregnant or something, you queer? Who fucked you, the Joker?"
He laughed again, then gave Delite a shove, making him stumble a few steps. "I'll be back for you. And I'll make you eat that damn pencil."
"Bye, Professor Crane!" Delite smiled at Jonathan. "I liked the speech!"
"Not you, Delite. You have a lovely evening. I'm talking to the moron who's holding you." Fuck that guy. Racist piece of shit. If he came back and actually picked a fight-- what the fuck was he supposed to do? He couldn't take him in a fight but he had to. He couldn't let that fucker win. Not any more, not again.
There was silence for a good twenty minutes or so, then footsteps came closer. Edward was dressed in somewhat civilian clothing. Green suit instead of the Arkham jumpsuit, no more damn orange, and his trusty cane with him. He was being picked up right now, but he knew he had to go and say goodbye to Jonathan. He owed him that much.
He approached the cell, not surprised to catch him sulking. Perhaps seething was the better word. "Jonathan? I just came to wish you well..."
He cleared his throat, unsure how to proceed here. "I promise you, I'll find the solution to this particular puzzle yet. And fast."
"You know my full name is Jonathan Ulysses Crane. That's how you know they fucking hated me. See, the south loves denying it but it's full of 'em. Racists. Homophobes. You name a bad word for an ignorant folk and you got small town Georgia pegged." Jonathan licked his lips and looked up at the ceiling, his heart racing in a way he wasn't used to. He felt like he was back in Georgia again and all he could think of was his Granny's cold stare and the way his father would whisper in his ear after every experiment.
"Let's try it again, Jonny."
"I got a cracked skull once, just like you. At age ten. Cause the local kids thought I was a queer... left me out in the dirt roads. I walked to hospital, blood down me. They didn't wanna pursue shit cause I provoked." He was the queer one. Jonathan drummed his fingers anxiously on his leg and cleared his throat, realising his internal thoughts were now external. Why was he doing that? He didn't want to tell Edward this shit. He shook his head and held his hand up to Edward.
"Catch you later, son. Don't worry about this, it's just the way of the world. Goes in cycles. Bully comes in, bully goes out. It will have a solution."
"It will, Jonny..." What was happening? Edward stepped closer to the bars and he caught Jonathan's eyes, or at least tried to. Something in them was triggering certain memories. That wasn't the colleague he'd gotten used to somewhat trusting behind those blue eyes. There was an empty conscience if ever he'd seen one. "I can solve it. I can solve everything."
It was what he did, after all. "Look, we're all in this together, aren't we? All along the edges of society." Looking at Jonathan right now, it terrified him to his core. He hoped he was good at masking that, but he wasn't too confident. Jonathan was good at picking up on fear, for obvious reasons. "We stick together. At least against everyone else."
He remembered people around him, he remembered family and colleagues but in the end of all things, he was always back to being alone. Even now, Edward was leaving and he wouldn't come back. Jon was alone. Alone and he had to fix it. He couldn't rely on anyone else. He always ended up let down. He could rely on one thing and one thing alone. That he was the Scarecrow and no one could ever scare him.
"You can pick a lock, can't you?" Any lock, any time, anywhere. Those fancy little gadgets on the cells, Edward always bragged about them being easy. "If you're with me, if you ain't bullshitting me, unlock the cell..."
"Any lock, any time, anywhere, faster than anyone. Er." Damn, had to be honest if he was making a serious claim, so he conceded. "Faster than just about anyone." Whatever. Definitely faster than anyone in Arkham. And, of course, he could not resist a challenge. He walked over to the door of John's cell, looking at the keypad and muttering. "Today is November sixth and we're already on the third shift, they'd not have updated into wintertime yet, happens in a few hours. So just going by the grease on the--" Trailing off, he quickly typed in the code, a triumphant smile when the door sprung open.
Then he realised what he'd just done. "...er, you probably shouldn't right now, Jon. You know how Bolton gets."
"It don't matter, don't worry about it. Go home, Ed. You're free."
Jonathan offered Edward a smile as he stepped out of the cell but his smile wasn't quite right. Something was off. Something wasn't right. He wasn't exactly hiding it either. "You done good, son. I appreciate it." The help, the jail break, the everything. It was good but Edward had to leave. He knew that, above all else, that Edward should probably leave.
Jonathan turned around and started walking away, whistling idly as he did so.
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icebergloungers2022-11-05 07:24 pm
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He came close to the bars, furious that Lyle had essentially driven Edward to escape and Delite to such misery. The only option he had - baiting him.
"Yell at me again, boy. See what fucking happens."
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At a bit of a loss, Delite was just watching them, unsure whether to interfere. Probably not much he could do. Still. "He's the best doctor I've ever had."
"That's just kinda sad than, isn't it? They don't got good doctors in China?"
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And with that, Jonathan's temper snapped without meaning to and he pulled the pencil from out of his jumpsuit pocket and stabbed Lyle in the fucking hand with it, making sure it got in deep and twisting it hard before he was forced to yank it free and back off while Lyle was in shock. A pencil wasn't much of a weapon but Jonathan brandished it like it was a sword. Leland always sharpened them to a point, they were quite deadly.
"You racist piece of shit. You're damn lucky it wasn't your fucking eye but if you come near me again, it damn well will be." Jonathan felt his chest heaving and his pulse racing. Fear. He was afraid. He was anxious and afraid and he fucking hated it. "Don't fucking touch me."
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Sounding hysterical more than anything, Delite was still giggling, so Bolton grabbed him. "I'm going to lock your ladyboy here in solitary and then I'm going to deal with you. Maybe it's time we go to the showers again, huh? You faggot are practically begging for it."
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Jonathan looked at Delite and hated that he couldn't help him. When he had half a chance, he'd jail break him. If he could. Maybe they'd have an option soon.
"Besides, the way you hold yourself, it's fucking textbook, son. Psychologically speaking, you're overcompensating. Small dick."
no subject
"His dick is beautiful!" He was ready to defend it against anyone. Whether they wanted to hear about it or not.
"Christ, you fucking queer! Don't you have any pride? They don't teach you that, over there in ching chong?" Maybe he was doing it on purpose at this point, it was hard to say. "I'll give you a beating, you ugly ass fucker." That was directed at Jonathan again. "Maybe you should all just be castrated, might be better for the world."
no subject
Lyle had a year. Tops. And the way he was going. Jonathan felt a week was more accurate.
Jonathan might be insecure and yes, very much not spreading his anything, but he didn't have to show that all off to Bolton. "You won't touch me again. Trust me. You touch me one more fucking time and I'm gonna end you."
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He laughed again, then gave Delite a shove, making him stumble a few steps. "I'll be back for you. And I'll make you eat that damn pencil."
"Bye, Professor Crane!" Delite smiled at Jonathan. "I liked the speech!"
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Oh, wait.
"Not you, Delite. You have a lovely evening. I'm talking to the moron who's holding you." Fuck that guy. Racist piece of shit. If he came back and actually picked a fight-- what the fuck was he supposed to do? He couldn't take him in a fight but he had to. He couldn't let that fucker win. Not any more, not again.
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He approached the cell, not surprised to catch him sulking. Perhaps seething was the better word. "Jonathan? I just came to wish you well..."
He cleared his throat, unsure how to proceed here. "I promise you, I'll find the solution to this particular puzzle yet. And fast."
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"Let's try it again, Jonny."
"I got a cracked skull once, just like you. At age ten. Cause the local kids thought I was a queer... left me out in the dirt roads. I walked to hospital, blood down me. They didn't wanna pursue shit cause I provoked." He was the queer one. Jonathan drummed his fingers anxiously on his leg and cleared his throat, realising his internal thoughts were now external. Why was he doing that? He didn't want to tell Edward this shit. He shook his head and held his hand up to Edward.
"Catch you later, son. Don't worry about this, it's just the way of the world. Goes in cycles. Bully comes in, bully goes out. It will have a solution."
no subject
It was what he did, after all. "Look, we're all in this together, aren't we? All along the edges of society." Looking at Jonathan right now, it terrified him to his core. He hoped he was good at masking that, but he wasn't too confident. Jonathan was good at picking up on fear, for obvious reasons. "We stick together. At least against everyone else."
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He remembered people around him, he remembered family and colleagues but in the end of all things, he was always back to being alone. Even now, Edward was leaving and he wouldn't come back. Jon was alone. Alone and he had to fix it. He couldn't rely on anyone else. He always ended up let down. He could rely on one thing and one thing alone. That he was the Scarecrow and no one could ever scare him.
"You can pick a lock, can't you?" Any lock, any time, anywhere. Those fancy little gadgets on the cells, Edward always bragged about them being easy. "If you're with me, if you ain't bullshitting me, unlock the cell..."
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Then he realised what he'd just done. "...er, you probably shouldn't right now, Jon. You know how Bolton gets."
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Jonathan offered Edward a smile as he stepped out of the cell but his smile wasn't quite right. Something was off. Something wasn't right. He wasn't exactly hiding it either. "You done good, son. I appreciate it." The help, the jail break, the everything. It was good but Edward had to leave. He knew that, above all else, that Edward should probably leave.
Jonathan turned around and started walking away, whistling idly as he did so.
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