boxofmisfits | Progeny of Fear

Call it a stroke of luck that Jonathan Crane happened to be at the circus when the Flying Graysons met their tragic end, leaving their only child with nowhere to go. No extended family, and it looked like the boy was off to a foster home. Then Dr. Crane had volunteered to take him in. He was a well-paid psychologist, and could easily afford to take care of young Dick. So, that had been that.

Truth was, Crane had a bit of an ulterior motive. Seeing the boy with no family, Crane had sensed an opportunity. Perhaps it was time to take on a protege. Someone to train in the ways of causing fear and possibly even carry out his work in the future.

The next year was spent gaining the boy's trust, making sure he was comfortable, but not going so far as to spoil the child. Dr. Crane would not tolerate spoiled brats. It was only when Dick finally called him "dad" that Crane had taken him into the basement and showed him his real work.

From then on, Crane had started to teach Dick all there was to know about fear, and what he could do to help his adopted parent. He'd tried to steer the boy into science, but Dick preferred more active extracurricular activities. So, Crane had paid to have his son learn martial arts, and encouraged his gymnastics. It might actually help if he had someone more combat-oriented helping him, after all.

In the end, it paid off. Whenever Crane went out as Scarecrow, his son went with him.

Dick was grown now, and struck out on his own as Nightwing, a dark terror of the night, though the two still popped into each others lives to help the other out.

Scarecrow lay in a crumpled pile on the factory floor, looking up at the dark vigilante who had once again foiled his plans. Most of his henchmen were knocked out or restrained, so it looked like his plot to drug cosmetics with fear toxin was foiled. Before he could be taken, a goon that got lost in the fray jumped out and tried to defend his boss. This gave Scarecrow time to get to his feet and make an attempt for the emergency exit.

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Oh what Dick's life would have been had Crane not adopted him. Perhaps passed around from foster home to foster home until he aged out. Even if Crane had known nothing of children at the time, he was a patient man and what was raising a child compared to what he did at night?

"No police or vigilantes will get in our way." Crane gathered up the empty soda cans and plates to bring them back to the kitchen, setting the plates by the sink and the cans in the recycling.

"Maybe we'll live in Wayne Manor," he grinned, imagining having a big fancy mansion instead of a series of dingy safehouses "or the white house." imagine if they spread their influence over the entire country? How wonderful that would be...

"Hm, seeing that vapid playboy scream in terror would be quite satisfying," Crane mused. Rich billionaire like that was probably afraid of something cliche like spiders or his stocks tanking, but it would still be a joy to watch. Living that kind of life with his son, while they ruled Gotham with fear was the dream right there.

"Turn whatever excessively large rooms we want into a gym for you and a lab for me, and we'd be all set."

"I bet it would be so easy, too," Dick snickered "He'd probably fall to pieces if he had to put on his own shoes, I bet he's got a valet for that." he added, amusing himself with the mental image. Still, however simple it would be, being able to play with the untouchable Bruce Wayne like that, being able to rule over Gotham and do what they wanted, it was a satisfying thought.

"A gym in the house? That would be pretty amazing."

"His butler probably dresses him too," Crane quipped in a deadpan tone. He only showed this side of himself, the side more prone to light humor, in his son's presence. Normally Crane had a rather dark sense of humor, the few times he did say something humorous.

"As well as a large library. We might have to auction off most of his things to make room, of course." The Penguin might buy half the inventory alone, if he and Dick ever went through with it. That man did like his fancy junk.

"Auction off or just fling out into the street," Dick smirked "Just imagine all of Bruce Wayne's precious expensive suits being worn by homeless drug addicts, kids painting graffiti on his fancy portraits, dogs chewing on his designer shoes..." the thought of such luxury being ruined so carelessly would probably horrify most rich people, and that was the exact reason Dick found the idea so delightful.

Progeny of Fear

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as usual apologies forever