Disc: don't own Jonathan or Gotham

Jonathan Crane was just getting up after a long night of tossing and turning. He sighed, running a hand across his tired eyes and yawning. He hated insomnia…

Well, maybe he could catch a nap sometime today. Being at a lair stationed in the so-called "country-side" of Gotham, it was relatively quiet and peaceful.

"Hey, Jake! Check this out!"

Well, it was.

The Master of Fear slid out of bed and walked over to the window, peering out at the grass a story below him. Five teenagers-three boys and two girls- were milling absently around, kicking at stones and trying to peer into the downstairs windows. Jonathan growled to himself. True, they weren't doing any damage-at least not yet-but they were on his property, snooping where they shouldn't, and the Master of Fear was not about to let some kids wander around his lair. He'd just pull on some regular clothing and go downstairs to shoo them out. Suddenly another voice floated up from the yard.

"I bet some old geezer lives here. Who else would live this far from the city?" The girls tittered appreciatively as the other boys guffawed.

Just ignore them… Jonathan thought to himself.

"Hey!" one of the boys yelled, as if he'd just been graced with the best idea known to man. "What if he's still sleepin'? Should I scare 'im?"

That was too much.

Pulling a t-shirt over his head, the Master of Fear stomped over to the window and threw it open. "HEY! You kids! Get off my lawn!"

Unfortunately, this little outburst did not yield the desired affect.

Quite the opposite in fact.

All five teens burst out laughing and one of the boys, who looked like he was more muscle than brains called, "What're you gonna do, Grandpa? Wow, you're skinny. An' real white, too. Whatsa matta? Don't get out much? Hahaha! You're a nerd grandpa!"

The boy's adolescent friends joined in his laughter and Jonathan felt his face grow red.

"THIS IS PRIVATE PROPERTY!" he yelled. "GO AWAY!"

One of the girls pretended to shriek and grabbed the bigger boy's arm as she giggled under her breath. The other girl laughed out loud as the two other boys, who were smaller and obviously cronies of the large one, howled.

Catching his breath, the large boy looked up at the window and sneered. "You gonna make us leave, Skinny?"

The Master of Fear gritted his teeth, all semblance of rationality leaving him. Throwing open his night-table drawer, he grabbed a few things and strode downstairs, slamming the back door wide. The teens turned and one of the girls even squeaked, but then started laughing again at Jonathan's scrawny legs and striped pajama pants.

Eyes narrowing, the Master of Fear zeroed in on the larger boy, who had one of the girls still clinging to his arm. It was amazing, even with how angry he was, Jonathan felt completely focused. Even with shaking hands, the Master of Fear held up a bottle in front of him, aiming it at the bigger boy, who had begun to saunter over to him.

"Do you know what this is?" Jonathan hissed, holding the container up in front of the boy's face.

The teen snorted. "Uuuuh…a spray bottle?"

Jonathan let a slow, evil smile spread across his thin features. "Oh, but it's not just any spray bottle. It's a test-subject maker!"

For a moment, the boy looked confused. Then, obviously trying to save face in front of his friends, he smirked shakily and started with fake nonchalance, "Oh, yeah, like I haven't heard that one bef-AUUUUUGH!"

The boy fell to the ground, as the Scarecrow sprayed him in the face.

"AUGH! NO! THE RABBITS! THEY'RE EVERYWHERE! AUGGGHGH! MOMMY! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

The teen's friends weren't laughing now. They backed up slowly, eyes wide with delicious fear, the boy's girlfriend having dropped his arm like a hot rock the moment he started to wail.

Grinning, Jonathan pulled a small sphere shaped like a pumpkin out of his pocket and threw it down, stalking back into the house and slamming the door shut behind him.

The sphere exploded on contact and the sounds of wonderful screams echoed in from the yard, following the Master of Fear as he went to the kitchen to get some coffee.

"Well, would you look at that?" he murmured, pouring himself a cup, "Screaming lawn-gnomes."