I ate civilization. It poisoned me; I was defiled.

[restingstitchface]

WHO: Crane and OPEN.
WHERE: Crane's residence and Nonah.
WHEN: Feb 1st - Feb 9th.
WHAT: Jonathan is attending court-mandated appointments. Catch-all log.
WARNINGS: None foreseen.


A: Crane's residence

[Crane hasn't gone unwatched since his experiment last August. He imagines both real and digital eyes have been on him since his freedom had been regained in November. They have been watching him in fear; terrified of his unknown intentions; in awe of his work. The raw power of his intelligence had brought him to the forefront of their minds. His name would never be forgotten. He had controlled their raw fear and inflicted it on them. He had controlled them by controlling their emotions. Controlling their emotions, he had been in control of everything.

He won't remain unwatched once his parole expires in two weeks. It had been apparant within a few minutes of first tasting freedom that he would be subject to intense scrutiny. So he had played along. Other than those willing to visit and indulge him in what they called insanity, he had been compliant. Compliant with the court. Compliant with his court-mandated treatment.

Compliant during treatment was another matter, but that could wait.

He leans back against his chair and sits quietly. He had opened the front door to his guest and followed them into his sitting room. Anyway, his eyes are cold and his face free of emotion. Thoughts are hidden behind that calm facade; curiosity, mostly. He needs to know what makes his visitor tick. He wants to use his control. He tilts his head in an appraising way. This person seems eager to pry. Quid pro quo. That's fair, right? He leans forward and flashes a boyish smile at his visitor.]

Come now. Standing in a man's home is no way to behave. Please sit down.


B: Uptown Nonah

[Demure. Quiet. Crane had rarely been one to speak up at Arkham. Everyone worked around him. They had learned to fear his authority and his sharpness. Orderlies and members of security who had thought to challenge his medical authority had been dealt with. The reversal in fortune had not been without consequences. They had dropped his title. He had swallowed his annoyance. They had jeered. Taunted.

But he had kept his silence.

Now he stands just outside one of Nonah's clinics, a private psychiatric practice, seeking some solitary time before heading in. Every time he walked through that door, they wanted him to talk about his childhood. He had never been forthcoming with those who engaged him with sympathy. But he had controlled the conversation as much as he could manage. A discussion of his childhood had become a discussion about his love of literature, the enjoyment of Joyce and Huxley and Orwell. So they had asked him why he had been attracted to fear as an emotion; questioned what sparked his fascination. So he had spoken of control and power, spiced with a bit of religious fervor. Presented himself differently to what they imagined. Then gone back to his demure, harmless self. One occasion had seen them ask what frightened him - a laugh and a moment later, and that question was turned around.

Things had become more difficult lately, mind. But he would adapt. A moment passes before he's aware of someone watching him - he hears their footfalls and gives a short sigh. He folds his arms and lightly drums his fingers.]

Good morning.

[If it's the afternoon, he hasn't noticed.]


III: Wildcard

[Hit me up with whatever you like! Crane is only permitted outside to attend court-mandated appointments; his probation officer and medical requirements. Please bear this in mind.]

Comments

[restingstitchface]

[Of course D'Artagnan would like to hear the story from him. Of course he wants to hear of him being in a position of weakness. Helpless. Pitiful. In fact, he expected him to share it with his cohorts. Certainly he'd spill the details to that woman who delusionally believes she's terrifying.

He is silent again for another long while, till he chooses to rest his hands on his knees. He inhales deeply. He is not going to share the experience of being so paranoid and phobic that he was terrified of himself, the Batman. Everything.]

Well, it's a rather personal story. To keep it short, he turned my own weapon against me before I had committed myself to turning it against someone else. He was aware of the risk of permanent damage. Perhaps you can connect the threads here without me needing to knot them for you?

[mousquetaire]

[ D'Artagnan leaned forward, frowning at him. He didn't disbelieve Crane. He did find the idea abhorrent, though. This was not how he would ever deal with criminals. Not even if he despised them.

A man had to remain honourable, even if his enemy did not. ]

Your gas. Are you saying he exposed you to it?

[restingstitchface]

[Crane doesn't say anything for a short while. He'd been willing to talk on some points; the Batman turning his own weapon against him, for instance. He'd been unwilling to discuss others. He had also been willing to omit the truth. Well, not quite. He had not turned it on somebody else other than Batman himself.

And his patients. Though they really don't count, do they?

He leans forward, sliding his hands over his knee.]

That's exactly what I'm saying, D'Artagnan. He gave me a taste of my own medicine. You'll have to forgive me if I'm reluctant to share the experience.

[mousquetaire]

[ This is interesting. More than interesting. It flushes d’Artagnan’s opinion of Batman straight into the gutter, of course, but all things considered, it had been languishing at the end of the drainpipe, anyway. No, what’s interesting about this is how tense the mention of it seems to have made Crane, even though he was the one to raise the topic. D’Artagnan wonders if he regrets that; if, for once, he spoke rashly.

He doesn’t push the issue of the gas – in part because he’d felt it himself, and knows what it does to a man. ]

I’m not trying to pry. Your visions can stay as private as mine.

But you said that it changed you. That knowing the Batman changed you. How did it do so, how was the man before all of this different from the man you are now?

[restingstitchface]

[The more D'Artagnan pries at the man he had been, and measures him against the man he is now, the more Crane separates himself from the experience that had shaped him so painfully. What that does might make him seem even less of a man behind his eyes. He certainly watches D'Artagnan a little more blankly.

The nanites had offered protection - and in Gotham there had not been supernatural nonsense to contend with when designing his compound. He speaks calmly as though none of that had ever been a problem. He knows what it looks like but doesn't care. That was then. This is now.

He can speak about it - as much as he wants. It doesn't matter.]

The man I was... was living a masquerade. I was aware of my desires, my greed, my nature, but burdened by the need to divert myself from my work.

[He drums the armrest with his nails.]

I flattered and feigned interest to thugs who believed wealth and strength gave them immunity to fear. Fools who believed they controlled fear. That they understood it.

[Thugs. He spits it out with venom. Falcone, his men, and those patients who had boasted of hurting others. Disgusting. Inferior. He presents himself as patient, even polite, most of the time, but that's who he is under it all.

His eyes close, then, and he spaces out for a short while.]

The change was that I stopped playing along with their charade. Does that answer your question?

[mousquetaire]

[ It tells d’Artagnan that Crane thinks himself superior, certainly. What it actually sounds like is that he had been a more typical sort of criminal before encountering the Batman, and had afterwards become the man he is today – twisted, damaged, obsessed with fear, and always with that hint of insanity when he speaks of that obsession.

D’Artagnan leans back, his expression thoughtful. He’s also very much still focused on Crane. ]

To an extent, I suppose. It tells me he made you want more.

[ A pause. ]

You stopped playing along with them. Something he did made you decide they knew nothing of fear, whereas you did.

The Batman made you afraid. [ Which means he’s even more responsible for what Crane’s become than d’Artagnan had even known. ] What did he do to you?

[restingstitchface]

[Crane leans back, mirroring d'Artagnan's thoughtful expression and focused stare. He's not congratulating the musketeer for his deductive reasoning, but he's not correcting him either.]

Well, like I said, he gave me a taste of my own medicine. I didn't realize it was simply too much to expect him to give me the antidote

[He speaks glibly but stares at d'Artagnan coldly - and if his stare was cold before now it's like ice. He doesn't move, doesn't blink. Just tries pinning him against his with his eyes.]

If that wasn't humilating enough, I was committed to my own asylum. And like any intelligent man I resented it. But I did not run like a coward.

[Unlike Frederick Chilton.]

[mousquetaire]

[ D'Artagnan is shaking his head. He points at Crane, his expression clearly unconvinced. ]

No. He made you taste your own compound.

That means you'd made the compound, that you were intending to use it just as you did here. That doesn't prove you changed, Crane. That proves you were always a criminal, whether you were a thug or not. In that, you never changed at all.

[restingstitchface]

[He finds himself unable to stop his eyes rolling. He wets his lips, watching the ceiling in silence, and does little to defend himself other than shrug.]

That's your opinion.

[He tries to smile, but it only spaces him out more than usual.]

I'm sure the Batman noticed a difference.

[mousquetaire]

That's my opinion.

[ Confirmed. And Crane's further mention of Batman only makes d'Artagnan smile. God, what is that? Some warped form of hero worship?

The deserve each other. ]

Am I wrong? You planned to hurt people, to frighten them, to use them, both before and after what he did to you.

[restingstitchface]

[He shakes his head. Except he then tilts it as if some part of that had been wrong. If he could hear d'Artagnan think, he'd tell him how absurd he's being. He would slate his warped perception and deliberation. Alas, he hears nothing.]

One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them. You believe my intention is to hurt people because you have been conditioned to believe it. You cannot contemplate that pain is anything but unpleasant.

[Shrug.]

Not to say that it isn't.

[mousquetaire]

[ D'Artagnan's eyes narrow. ]

Explain it, then. If it's not about hurting people, then why.

In your own words.

[restingstitchface]

I deem it necessary for my research. I want to learn how their minds work, and thus it becomes a painful consequence. Does that answer your question?

[His tone is quick and sharp.

Still. That pun, though.]

[mousquetaire]

[ D’Artagnan leans back, regarding Crane’s face with interest and care. It couldn’t be more obvious that he doesn’t want to discuss it. D’Artagnan lifts his shoulders. ]

You’re the one who brought this up. You said you’d been changed. I would never have known to ask the question if you hadn’t given it to me.

Why do that, if it’s so painful to talk about?

[restingstitchface]

[Crane's eyes narrow.]

I wanted to see what would happen. Plus I felt it necessary to dispel any misconceptions about me. Regardless of what you think, I am not a bully, d'Artagnan.

[mousquetaire]

[ Ah. There was the crux of it. D’Artagnan looks at him with different eyes.

I am not a bully. He nods. ]

Thank you. [ Quietly. ] That answers my question.

[restingstitchface]

[Crane isn't scolding himself inwardly. He isn't showing any emotion, either. He's heard countless allegations about his past. It means nothing, he tells himself, as he looks blankly at d'Artagnan. It's dead and buried.

If people want to hurt him with it, let them try. If they wish to make it an issue, well, he'll respond appropriately.]

Well, that's good. But now I'm afraid I'm rather tired, d'Artagnan. Do you mind if we continue this conversation at a different time?

[mousquetaire]

[ D'Artagnan takes note of that, too. He stands, and moves towards the door. ]

Of course. I've seen what I needed to see. I'll return tomorrow, unless for some reason I'm needed before then.

[ He moves to leave, but pauses just at the edge of the room. Though hesitant, he looks back to regard the other man. ]

I'm not fond of bullies either, Crane.

[ That's all he says. With a quiet nod, he lets himself out. ]