Prince of Darkness ~ Gotham

~ Chapter Forty Five: She's My Daughter ~

The old Crane house looked like it had been abandoned for at least seven or eight years. Thin wooden boards blocked out the windows, and the clear drapes covered the broken windows. The nightly fog and the pale light of the moon further added to the creepiness as Jim and Harvey pulled into the driveway. They pried off the loose boards covering the front door and walked inside the mudroom, sharply knocking at the next door. "GCPD," Jim announced. But there was no response. Crane had to be in there hiding, there was no doubt about it. As Jim knocked and announced their presence again, he swore he could hear faint whispers and chatter.

"We're coming in," Harvey slowly pushed open the door, and almost instantly, they heard the sounds of metal clattering. The detectives pulled out their guns, following the sound into a makeshift lab in the middle of the dining room. Tourniquets and countless needles were spread across the table. Clearly, Crane was about to either experiment on himself or subject B. The cold evening air howled throughout the abandoned structure, pushing the open back door against the wall. "We should check out back," Harvey suggested.

With guns still in hand, Jim and Harvey walked back into the night. But not even two steps into their search, a bloodcurdling scream ripped through the night, and without a hitch, they followed the sound past the trees to the entrance of a small field. Right underneath a terrifying scarecrow was Crane's silhouette as he hunched over a darkened mound. "Hands where we can see them!" Harvey yelled. "Hands in the air, or we'll shoot!" Jim repeated. But Crane refused to comply, reaching for his gun.

"You think I'm afraid of you?" Crane challenged. "Not another step," Harvey warned. "Afraid of your guns?" Crane began growing impatient and opened fire. Jim and Harvey quickly took cover behind the trees, feeling the rush of the bullets as they narrowly missed them. The second the gunfire ceased, and Crane reloaded his weapon, Harvey popped out of hiding and shot Crane in the shoulder. But Crane continued limping towards them. "I have no fear!" Crane proclaimed. When Crane used up the last of his bullets, Jim and Harvey again popped out of hiding, not hesitating as they fired three bullets at him until Crane toppled onto the ground, dead.

"You take him, I'll get the kid!" Jim said to Harvey as he dashed to where Jonathan was withering on the ground, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he let out a silent scream. "Call an ambulance!" Jim shouted to Harvey, doing his best to help calm the young man down. But Jim's efforts did very little as the fear injection coursed through Jonathan's veins, his heart about to leap out of his chest at intense nightmares that were taunting him. "It's alright, son! It's alright!" Jim assured, cradling Jonathan in his arms as he continued to convulse and whimper.

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Alfred stood by the window back in Wayne Manor, still waiting for Bruce to return from the hike. Master B swore to be back hours ago. What's keeping him? Alfred wondered as he reached for his pocket watch. At any moment, he hoped he would see Bruce's shadow emerging from the woods towards the back door, but as the temperature dropped and gray clouds filled the sky, Alfred's worries only grew from there. He immediately ran out to the back door, grabbing his coat as he followed the trail, calling out to the young boy.

"Master Bruce!" He called out, but only heard bats' wings flapping through the trees. He continued down the path, past the little creek, and hiked up the hill. In the moonlight, the butler could see Bruce and his father's rock piles destroyed and strewn all over. But Bruce was still nowhere to be found. After a while, Alfred gathered as much kindling and wood as he could find in the darkness and struck a match. Maybe Bruce would be able to find his way back that way. An hour into settling in by the fire, the sounds of leaves crunching filled the air, making him turn to just over the ledge. Carefully peering down, he saw the faint silhouette of the Wayne, disheveled and trying to climb back up the hill.