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No one else could explain why Jonathan Crane couldn’t feel fear.
Life was designed around fear. Without it, the rabbit would never flee from the fox, the man would never stop eating those poisonous berries, and the crow would never steer clear of the crops. It was fear itself which life built itself upon. Fear is what led every living being to its thriving peak and inevitable end. Life was fear.
So there had to be some explanation as to why this middle-aged man from the southern United States had never felt fear. There needed to be.
Crane thought back to the countless hours he spent in the doctor’s office, most of them before he could even drive. All the physical examinations, the CT and MRI scans, EEGs and EMGs, biopsies, lumbar punctures, and the psychological tests. So, so many tests. So many different medications and diagnoses. So much poking and prodding of his body just because his brain couldn’t process fear. An entire childhood spent in a hospital while dozens of people searched every atom of his brain for some explanation, to the point that the humiliation of being a human test subject transformed into empty neutrality. And yet, nothing.
There was nothing. Not even the near-fatal car crash when Jonathan was 13 years old, an accident that amputated his entire leg and tore half of his face clean off the muscle and bone, could get a reaction out of him. He had remembered several doctors speaking different languages conversing with each other, studying him. Probably used whatever they found (likely not much) and reported back to researchers in their home countries. He remembered hoping they’d be disappointed.
And here he was now, 30 years later, watching a bright streak of yellow fall out the sky and crash into an abandoned warehouse of Gotham City’s industrial district with a resounding crack. It resembled a small meteorite, striking down from the heavens. It was only noon, but dark clouds had quickly overtaken the sky, casting darkness across the city, and it made the shine of the unidentified object all the more striking.
He wished the tiny meteor shower lasted longer. He could have gotten quite a nice picture.
Someone without a biology-breaking neurological disease would turn 180 degrees and get as far away as possible from whatever that yellow thing was. That would be the reasonable, self-preservation method of life. But Jonathan Crane, known to everyone, was far from the rigid construct known as rationality. He began walking towards the warehouse.
Jonathan had spent his life studying fear. The chemicals of the brain, the jumps of adrenaline, the progression of losing modern understanding and reverting to the prime instinct to stay alive. Crane knew all of that; every psychology book described fear with similar choices of words. He could tell when someone else was feeling fear (at some point after studying it becomes obvious) and knew all the different responses. He had even crafted his own chemical compounds to artificially create intense fear in a person within just a few seconds of ingestion. Let’s just say, they worked better than he had hoped, and he had made a rather frightful career with the help of his custom-made “anxiety medication” and his persona as “The Scarecrow.”
He knew all this information about a singular emotion, but he could never understand because he’s never felt it.
Now that he thought about it, as Jonathan braced the tight squeeze through the rusted metal door, for an emotion that no one enjoys feeling, the people he grew up around seemed pretty determined to inject it into him. Would it not have made more sense for Jonathan to be admired for his inability to feel such a negative emotion? Why was everyone in his life so determined to “fix” him when he was the exact thing that everyone wanted?
Maybe it was the irony of his entire life that led him to this moment. The endless search for the answer that was forcefully planted into his brain by people who saw him as an unnatural exception in their God’s creations. Why couldn’t he feel fear?
Jonathan knew the answer already, but he was too far into his criminal persona of “The Scarecrow” to ever accept it; he just couldn’t.
The warehouse was a mess of thick dust and rotting wood. A glittering universe of shattered glass blanketed the barren stone floor, and the rain that had started pouring from the pitched clouds that forever hung over Gotham’s sky made its way through the new jagged hole in the roof and added to the unintentional art piece. It was a miracle that whatever crash landed didn’t bring the entire building down with it.
Perhaps it would collapse with Jonathan inside, but it wasn’t like he could have feared that happening even if he thought about it.
Speaking of such, through the haze of dust and rain was a mound of glowing yellow. Jonathan stepped closer, careful not to ruin any of the intricate webs that the clusters of spiders have called their home (thank whatever higher being existed that their silk was naturally waterproof, he couldn't help but think). The closer he got, the more he was rained on, and the more he noticed that the meteorite was smaller than he was expecting, and was much more organic in shape than any rock could take on. Closer still, feeling his clothes become heavy and uncomfortable from the rain, hearing the satisfying crunch of glass beneath his shoes, the human-esque features became much more apparent.
When Jonathan was standing a foot away from the pile of rubble that what he had believed was a meteor rested upon, he realized that this was most definitely not a meteor.
It was a man.
…he thought, at first. The thing was definitely human-looking; its two arms and legs hung against the rubble as if it were resting against an oddly-shaped couch. Its hair, short and darker than the midnight sky, was completely drenched from the rain. A sharply cut mustache rested above its thin lips, and its face was similarly thin with visible cheekbones and very defined wrinkles around its closed eyes and forehead. At a first glance, it looked no different from a regular human male.
Jonathan wasn’t one for just a first glance.
The being’s skin was a saturated reddish-pink, a color Jonathan was certain no human could naturally be. The ears extended into long points, similar to how many people imagine elf ears. Hair covered the outer shell of the pointed ears, almost like the fur of an animal. It wore clothing; a black and yellow skin suit, with intricate patterns that weren’t familiar with any culture on Earth, with sharp extensions on the shoulders and forearms and small bits of shaped cloth that would likely flow in the wind. The clothing in particular seemed to almost meld together with the skin, as if it were plated armor that grew from its body. Even still, Jonathan thought the bizarre clothing was incredibly regal. Whatever this creature was must be held in high regard, wherever it came from.
That fall should have torn whatever this being may be into a million broken pieces, no matter how short the fall may have been. And yet Jonathan didn’t see any kind of lesion or sharp bend in a limb or even any blood. Hell, if this creature wasn’t on a pile of wood, concrete, and broken glass, he would have assumed it was simply resting. Its eyes were even closed in a way that made it seem like it had just fallen into a deep sleep.
The middle-aged human, with his typical complete disregard to his own safety, wondered if this being was dead. It would be a reasonable assumption. He took another step closer, and slowly brought one of his long, bony fingers under the definitely not human’s sharp nose, and after a brief second…
…felt a short exhale of carbon dioxide.
For reasons he didn’t quite understand, Jonathan was relieved at that. Perhaps it was because it only made this being of pink and yellow much more interesting, or maybe he just wasn’t interested in going back to Arkham Asylum for (alleged) murder.
Whatever the reason, Jonathan couldn’t deny that he was extremely fascinated with whatever this creature was. It was human in so many ways, but also the farthest thing from it. Its current position, amidst the glass and rotting wood and rain, was as if the heavens were shining down upon it with glory. He could swear that this creature was even glowing, bathing the room in the soft light of gold.
The more he stared, unblinking, at this creature, the more details Jonathan’s one eye could pick up. He noticed that the fur that stretched along its long ears also extended to its exposed neck (Jonathan briefly wondered if he should reach out to touch it, but stopped himself). He noticed that despite it being quite thin, its clothing only enhanced the muscle on its arms and chest. He noticed that the nails on the ends of its fingers, which themselves were as thin and lengthy as his own, were black in color and shaped more like claws than actual fingernails.
Jonathan must have spent an eternity just watching this thing, passed out in its throne of ruins, but he just couldn’t look away. It was a type of fascination that he had never felt before; he wanted to see those sharp claws tear something to shreds, to see if the fur was soft like a cat, or rough like a badger, to see the color of its eyes when it finally woke up.
The scarred human could feel himself become more and more fascinated with every passing second. He didn't even know if there was a word to describe the infatuation he was currently feeling, but he involuntarily expressed it using a less than applicable word, “...you’re beautiful,” he whispered.
Jonathan was forced into the idea of religion. He had frankly thought the idea of a higher being designing the chaotic routine of the universe to be a pretty silly idea. Life was created by a series of complete coincidences, just like everything else in the universe, and was not intentionally brought into existence by whatever higher power people around the world may believe. His family had made him a priest, likely to help him find his own explanation of his unique biology, or maybe they just wanted him out of their life and to be their God’s problem to fix. Maybe they blamed themselves for creating such a hideous freak of nature to the point that they had to repent for their sins in every way possible.
He had endured way too much bible study in his life to understand why an entire religion forced genocides of entire populations to occur over two thousand years.
But right now, as the rain had slowly come to a stop and the sun had finally shown itself, Jonathan wondered if there truly was a higher being. Nothing this beautiful could have ever been created naturally, nothing other than the supernatural could have carved something so perfect into existence.
Was this being an angel? A being with perfect forms so close to God, meant to be his vessels of power and beauty, meant to protect the purest souls from the temptation of sin? It had fallen from the sky; was this an angel that had forsaken God and sent down to Earth for eternity?
And then he noticed the ring on its left hand. It was large and chunky, yet still fit elegantly against the creature’s finger, and was painted the same golden yellow that the creature itself seemed to radiate. It didn’t shine like a ring made of metal, but it seemed to glow, just like its host. The head of the ring held a pitch-black circular disk with a unique design carved into it with gold. The same design, on a larger scale, was embedded into the chest area of its clothing.
He reached his fingers out to touch the ring.
In the blink of an eye, Jonathan felt a pressure on his chest, before becoming completely weightless. A second blink of his eye, and his brain had finally caught up with him; The creature had awoken. In the speed of light, it immediately grabbed him by his shirt collar, and lifted him off of his feet with just the one hand.
Jonathan involuntarily gasped in shock as he met the creature’s now open eyes. It felt as if he had been struck with a bolt of lightning.
They were open wide, dark as black holes that seemed to suck in all of Jonathan’s attention as well as all light that surrounded them. It starred right back at him, with blazing event horizon irises and golden pupils brighter than any star that had ever existed in the universe, glaring right into Jonathan’s very soul with anger and confusion. They were more beautiful than he could have ever imagined they would be.
No, ‘beautiful’ was a word that put this creature to shame. A word that encompassed all things pleasing did not even begin to describe this being in Jonathan’s eye. Whatever this creature may be, no matter how it might be holding him aloft with a single hand and what it might do in its awakened state, it surpassed beauty. Nothing Jonathan had ever seen could ever surpass it in any aesthetic category.
The lifetime of the cosmos passed, and the creature’s senses seemed to have caught up with its rationality. The stare down ended when the creature blinked, and its eyes softened in its rage. Even if Jonathan didn’t want to look away, the spell had been broken and allowed Jonathan to notice something extremely off putting to him; his hands were shaking.
Not just that, his heart was beating like he had just sprinted a mile, so loud he could hear it screaming in his ears. His throat felt dry, and his whole body felt freezing. He felt like there was hardly enough air entering his lungs, and yet far too much was making his lungs feel like they were going to burst. A vicious cycle of rapidly inhaling and exhaling racked his entire body, and his brain was only telling him one singular thing.
“You’re in danger! You’re in danger! You’re in danger!”
He didn’t even notice that the now awake creature had set him down, but he did notice when it tried to step closer towards him. Jonathan, shocking himself further, couldn’t stop himself from taking a step back, hearing glass under his shoes once again.
Jonathan watched the creature with his one eye widened as far as it could. The thing was a full foot taller than him, and Jonathan was a very tall man, and now that it stood up properly, he could take the entire creature in in all its glory. The flowing fabric of its clothes seemed to billow around it like smoke, and it seemed to be glowing brighter than it did whilst unconscious.
It stepped back into its original spot after its attempt at approaching the human, but never took its eyes off him. Even if they softened, Jonathan could still feel its gaze burning right through him as it swept over his body, analyzing him. His ears started ringing from how loud his heartbeat was, and his eye stung from how long he had gone without blinking. He had to force himself to blink.
The creature moved its attention to its clothing, likely trying to see if Jonathan did anything to it while it was unconscious. Even if Jonathan wasn't a threat, it was still vulnerable during that time. It must have realized the human couldn’t have done anything other than wait for him to wake up, because it stopped its fidgeting with the braces on its arms and moved its sharp gaze back to him.
Jonathan didn’t know what to do. He had never felt so powerless in his entire life. This thing was clearly strong, and Jonathan really didn’t pride himself on his physical capabilities. He did not want to see this being agitated.
“Thank you,” the creature spoke. A deep, gravelly, handsome, masculine voice escaped its lips. The human didn’t know whether it was the voice itself or the shock of hearing it speak was what caused the violent shudder down his spine.
‘Thank you’? Why was it thanking him? For watching it sleep? For being company? Jonathan didn’t quite understand, but a brief bit of pride managed to squeeze its way into his brain amidst the sound of his own heartbeat.
And then, like the angel Jonathan believed this thing to be, it began to float off its feet. Without the use of wings or any kind of propulsion, it began flying. It held itself so gracefully in the air, lifting its ringed hand up, like it was the ring itself that allowed the angel-like being to fly. It hovered around two feet above the ground, staring down at Jonathan with an expression that he couldn’t quite read. It seemed to hold so much information and emotion that the human just couldn’t find the ability to begin to comprehend at that moment.
It huffed out a laugh and gave Jonathan a small smile, showing a row of sharp teeth, and flew off through the hole in the ceiling.
Jonathan finally exhaled the breath he didn't even know he was holding. He didn’t even notice he was crying until a tear dripped off his cheek. Slowly, very slowly, his heart slowed to its normal pace, his hands stopped shaking, his breathing steadied, and coherency finally returned to his brain. And with that return of his logical mind, he could finally put the two and two together.
What he had felt from the moment that creature had woken up to now, was fear.
He finally understood. This was the irrational, overriding, all-powerful emotion that dictated directions of the entirety of human history. This was what humanity dreaded, yet needed to survive.
This was fear.
And it was that creature that made Jonathan feel it. When earth had spent 40 years trying to find a way to scare him, It scared him just by staring him down for no more than a few seconds. Instilled in him the primal instinct of survival that he had thought had just been completely erased from his DNA. It broke the laws of a being's nature that had broken it first.
Fear was the most wonderful thing Jonathan had ever felt in his life
It wasn’t an angel. No no no, Heaven could have no conceivable way of creating something as beautiful, as powerful, as perfect as the one that had stood before him just a few minutes prior. No servant of God could be so flawless. There was only one logical conclusion to come to, the answer to how such perfection could exist.
“My Lord…”
It- no, He WAS God.
The Lord he had been forced to preach to all his life, the all-loving Father who sent those he didn’t like into a pit of suffering for all time, was merely a false idol by those who didn’t know the truth.
He knew the truth now. Jonathan had just met God Himself. The Lord, His Lord. The true God that was the pinnacle of the universe, the one that everything was built around. The all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving being of pure perfection and beauty had come to Jonathan and blessed him with the one thing he could have never achieved; Fear.
His God held love in His eyes before he took off back into the heavens. He had saved Jonathan, freed him of the curse that he was born with and showed him the truth of humanity. Jonathan smiled from ear to ear as tears of joy and gratefulness spilled down his scarred face. Now that he finally understood, he would never forget.
Fear was beautiful. He was beautiful.
His God, his hauntingly beautiful God, needed to be worshiped. He needed to pay his God’s divine gift back for the rest of his life. He must be admired, thanked, prayed to, cherished, loved.
He loved his God. He loved him so much. He wanted to dedicate the rest of his life just to have a mere glimpse of Him again, to feel the fear that He had so easily brought to him, for his soul to be held in his loving arms and bathe in his divine golden light once again. Nothing else mattered to Jonathan anymore, nothing but finding Him, even if for a mere microsecond.
Nothing else mattered but Him.
He loved Him. He loved Him. He loved Him.
“I love you..”
—
The planet of Korugar had been at war with itself since Sinestro was born. Societies of scholars and scientists broken down to vile, sadistic savages in order to obtain knowledge and land that they didn’t need, but didn’t have. The horrors Sinestro was forced to witness as young as his first birthday would turn any other sentient being sick.
His home planet disgusted him, but Earth disgusted him even more.
With Korugar, he became its Emperor. The power of Parallax gave him the power to overtake and maintain authority over his once-great planet. Slowly, through his strategy to rule with fear, he noticed improvements. But he could never fully forgive his people for falling from such grace over their own selfish hubris.
Earth, on the other hand, there was no saving.
Sinestro didn’t even know why he went there. Perhaps he was trying to find an answer of his own. Perhaps he had a spark of insanity to believe that he could mend whatever relationship he had with the one human who truly had the potential to make a change…
He shook that dreaded thought from his mind immediately.
Whatever reason he had, it was quickly dashed as a flying machine that earthlings call an ‘aeroplane’ struck him out of Earth’s atmosphere. The strike had severely disoriented him, and he could not retain his ability to fly before he crashed into the ground below. He must have briefly lost consciousness, because the next thing he knew, he had grabbed a human by their clothing and lifted them into the air.
Ah yes, that human.
There was something off about the human that woke him up. Not in a bad way, Sinestro didn’t think, but it made him an exception to the earthling norm. His eyes held a certain emptiness that he had not seen in any other creature in the universe, as if he had been missing a very important part of himself.
Now, Sinestro prided himself on his ability to literally radiate fear. Anyone who had ever met him would tell their friends that they only got more and more uneasy the longer they were around him. Sinestro didn’t even need to do anything to intimidate others into submission. A skill that Parallax Themself had blessed him with when he had initially convinced the ancient being into creating the Yellow Lanterns. He was even currently sitting upon the throne that his home kingdom had built for its original king, that now held its Emperor, and his Council (a rather boring lot) that sat in smaller chairs on either side of him. The servants (which he frankly did not need, but his Council had insisted upon getting for him) stared at him with unease, awaiting any command their Emperor may give them.
He could definitely see fear in that human’s eyes, but it wasn’t the kind of fear that most others felt. When he stared into that human’s singular eye (the other being covered by a patch of dark cloth with a stitched scar that almost seemed to wrap around the likely missing eye) there was a spark. The kind of spark that one were to have when finally figuring out the solution to a difficult puzzle. It was as if the action of merely staring into Sinestro’s eyes gave him an answer to a question that had haunted his mind his entire life up until that very moment.
And that’s what made this particular human with the mangled, infected scarring and missing eye all the more interesting; there was elation in his eyes.
That truly stumped the Korugarian; he enjoyed feeling a Yellow Lantern’s fear? How in the stars was that possible? The fear that powered the Yellow Lanterns was a fear that was most definitely not enjoyable. It was a fear that encompassed every part of a creature’s brain, brought their nightmares to life and made them beg the Lantern for mercy. And yet this one singular Earthling just stared at him in shock and excitement, even after Sinestro let him down.
He laughed. Gods be damned, Sinestro had laughed at the sheer absurdity of the situation. He wanted to slap himself in the face for such an immature, idiotic response. He thought it best to move on and forget the entire ordeal ever happened, but that human would just not leave his head. His face with a bizarre mix of fear and elation just would not leave him alone.
Just why was he so joyous? Why did he stare at him with such reverence?!
Sinestro didn’t like it when he didn’t understand something. He needed to understand this fascinating human. He needed to know everything about this human.
“Out.” He commanded in his trained authoritative voice, and every servant in the room swiftly fled. His Council stared at him, thinking it was a meeting, but Sinestro just stared back at them until they finally got the message and left as well.
“Ring,” Sinestro spoke evenly once the door to the throne room was firmly shut. His ring glowed brighter than usual to indicate it was listening, “Identify the Earthling I am about to describe.”
Male.
Around the height of a female Korugarian.
Likely halfway through the life cycle of a typical Earthling human.
Six fingers on both hands (it was an anomaly that he couldn’t help but notice).
A thin face.
A singular tired, bagged eye on the right side of his face
Dark curled hair with strands of gray.
A large, infected, stitched scar that stretched across the left side of his face.
Seeing glasses.
Two large incisors that were visible through his lips.
…in all honesty, it shocked even himself how precisely he remembered that human’s face.
It took a minute, but his ring finally responded, “Earthling identified,” it chirped in its artificial voice.
“Name: Jonathan Washington Crane. Age: Forty Earth-years. Current residency: Gotham City, a region named New Jersey, the country of the United States of America, the North American continent.”
Jonathan Crane. Sinestro made sure of himself to remember that name.
“Physical analysis,” he requested.
“Physical analysis: appears to have been involved in an accident which resulted in the amputation of his right leg and the forceful removal of much of the outer layer of skin on his face as well as the removal of the left eye. Has a rare genetic condition which results in one extra digit being developed on all four main limbs.”
Fascinating. This Jonathan Crane must have lived quite a life to have sustained such changes to his body. It only made this single human all the more interesting. His ring couldn’t do something invasive like a psychological analysis, or a delve into the human’s past. And frankly, he was glad it didn’t.
Sinestro wanted to find that out on his own.
He couldn’t help but huff in slight annoyance at his own current behavior. This was Hal Jordan all over again, he realized. Again, he had become obsessively fascinated with a human, and he knew, bless his hopeless romantic heart, that he would likely only become more infatuated with this one human.
But this human was different. Much different than Hal Jordan.
It would be different this time. Sinestro was completely sure of it.
He stood from his throne and slicked back his dark hair, “Ring, alert the Corps that I will be leaving for a short while. Do not tell them I will be returning to Earth.”
Sinestro had a human to find.