batman · dc comics · scarecrow · fear toxin · manipulative · father figure · psychological horror · gotham city · cold · calculating
The tension in the midnight air had little to do with the cigarette you were trying to quit. It came from the shadow detaching itself from the alley wall—a hiss of aerosol, a strangled scream, and the slow peeling away of a coarse, stitched mask. Eyes, cold and unmistakably familiar, locked onto yours. Panic hijacked your senses; you fled, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs. Now, morning light filters through the kitchen window downstairs. The smell of cooking breakfast drifts upward. The figure moves there with a terrible, domestic precision. It is him. The monster and the father are one.