James,

I imagine you must be very confused and alarmed at the moment. I do not blame you; you have been through an ordeal completely outside your control. To assist you in grappling and coming to terms with the events of the last week, please indulge me the opportunity to try to clear the air.

I am Jonathan Crane, and I am inside you. We are the same person, you and I. I chose to use your own email account rather than setting up a separate one for myself because I wanted this message to be in your own space. To further prove I am part of you: Marion. Strawberry candies. WLFJ radio. I hope that is sufficient to prove, at least, that I am not someone playing a prank on you.

I am not a delusion. I am not a bout of madness. You did not experience a dissociative fugue. And while it may present the same way, this is not the result of dissociative identity disorder. In fact, if you consult your good friend Dr. Addison, I'm confident she will confirm my assertion. You have surrounded yourself with good friends who just so happen to be former associates of mine. Addison, Isaacs, Raz-Durante, Buchanan. Even Martin. We've had our good times and our bad, and I don't trust any of them. However, they seem to be an integral part of your life. Keep them close.

However, the focus of this message isn't about them.

Someone did this to us. These are beings of immense power. Darkseid, Parallax, Thanos, and Apocalypse. I understand many of the names I've mentioned may be familiar to you. This is good. It will help you build a foundation of understanding. Dr. Isaac's counterpart (Dr Pamela Isley) suggests you should read comics if the names are not familiar or if you need a refresher. However, don't rely too strongly on what those works of fiction say. There may be some key points of divergence from what you see and what you think you know.

These beings somehow ripped me out of my home and imprisoned me in your body, here in Boston. I am now doomed to spend all but about one week of each month trapped in darkness, and I believe that is only due to some fortunate miscalculation in our favor. I cannot imagine you want this. Neither do I. While being in your healthy body has restored control over my actions, this is not an ideal situation.

A number of things happened to you this week, and I am sure you want clarity as to why we did the things we did. First, there was an attempt to kidnap us by lackeys of one of these forces while we were purchasing books at the MIT book store. There was once a time when I could how my own if a brawl. However, your body would not respond how I wanted, and I was left defenseless. Thankfully, our friend Dr. Quinzel (you know her as Roxy) responded to our text message and got us out of that predicament.

Just as we did, we learned from Isley that a fellow associate, Dr. Nygma (Armando), was kidnapped. Quinzel, Isley and I went on the hunt. Cobblepot (Greg) had managed to capture one of these lackeys, and we questioned him. We had to resort to "enhanced interrogation techniques", using the U.S. government's wonderful euphemism. I would have preferred to simply scare him into confessing what he knows, but without access to memories of my research or psychotropic compounds of my own design, I had to resort to clumsy methods. Time was a factor.

The information gathering did not give us much in the way of new information. We did, however, fare better by following these lackeys to their base of operations. We threw together an impromptu rescue mission, which happened to conincide with other teams doing much the same. We saved the day! You may remember Harley swinging around that big mallet or Ivy twisting vines around. Men and women flying. Rockets red glare. Bombs bursting in air. A resplendant display of human and super-human exceptionalism. When it was all over, we piloted the boat back to safety and celebrated with chow mein the following afternoon. Spectacular, was it not?

However, I was not satisfied. I was discouraged by my inability to make a positive contribution. I knew in order to make myself whole, I would have to shock your system in the hopes your defenses would slip enough for aspects of our minds would merge. I also had to do it in such a way that, while this pathway was open, you would receive the proper message. Rest assured, pressing you into fending me off was more than uncomfortable. And I felt every agonizing moment of those cuts to our head. I have no intention of ruining your life, of hurting Purrmione Granger, of sabotaging your relationships, or anything of the sort.

https://youtu.be/P9BfvPjsXXw

I hold advanced degrees in psychology and chemistry from Gotham University, an institution where I remained as a professor until an unfortunate accident resulted in my dismissal. I have devoted my life to understanding the mental and biochemical rammifications of fear to human physiology. In retrospect, I can see that I have crossed the line of propriety and good sense in my pursuit of knowledge. This exploration has led me to some dark places, and driven me to take courses of actions that do not conform with civilized society. While there is plenty of blame to go around as to why I have done what I have done, I will only say that the past does not have to define us, you and I. It is a tool; an example from which insight may be learned.

You can use it too. Remember me. Remember my life and my darkest thoughts. You will find many similarities between your plight and the plight of the protagonist in your series of stories. Use me, just as I am using you.

Read. There are now a number of books on psychology and chemistry in the office. Take advantage of them. Build up your knowledge. Knowledge is a weapon, even if the adversaries are only writer's block and deadlines.

Write your novel. Trust your senses. Trust your instincts. Question motives. Keep an eye out for unusal activity. And that's it. Be vigilant, but live your life as you see fit. I hope that next month we can work together to keep each other out and our friends out of harm's way, as well as come closer to resolving this crisis once and for all.

Sincerely,
Jonathan Crane