The testing confirms what he already knows. Fear toxin, albeit in a diluted form.

He's got to either confirm that he's crazier than he thought, or that there really is another disguised Jonathan Crane running around Gotham.

He's got to find himself.

He has to try very hard indeed not to self-medicate when he gets home, but besides patience and any other number of things, self-control is on the list of quickly dwindling properties. Still, that won't solve anything. No, not at all. Instead he checks everything for contamination, checks the cannisters for leaks, checks the stupid cat pee-smelling ( Read more... )

The specialist's hat makes a noise like an acouti;
a collared peccary;
a tapir;
a rabbit;
a squirrel;
a curassow;
moans like a whale in the water;
moans like the wind in my wife's hair;
makes a noise like a snake ( Read more... )

The previous tenant had kept cats, many of them. It made for a useful excuse when they moved in and set up the meth lab. The neighbors were used to the smell. Sometimes the cats come back, but Jonathan doesn't mind as long as they stayed out of the lab area. In fact, there's a lot he doesn't mind as long as others stay away from the equipment: all ( Read more... )