Daggett Industries
Scarecrow was going on a solo mission. One he prepared for, relying only on his wits and gadgets. The emotional pain of the thought of Catwoman and Riddler keeping their distance from him filled him with dread, and he hoped this scheme would help take his mind off it.
It took days of planning, stealthily sneaking around the building avoiding detection, and planting his devices. But he managed to pull it off.
His victim would be Roland Daggett. One of Gotham's many corrupt businessmen. He's made several deals with supervillains and the mob before. But Scarecrow was going after him for something far more despicable, yet legal.
He crawled into a vent in Roland Dagget's office. Now was time to wait.
Roland Dagget stumbled into his room, having had a long and tiring night. He proceeded to open the dark-oak wooden door to his pristine office. He felt the cold, chilly hand of lady death shiver up his spine. He spun around, unnerved by the queer happening.
"...Just the wind.."
He mumbled to himself, turning away from the entrance door. A faint click could be heard from the door. Roland sat down. A book fell from a shelf. Nothing suspicious. Then his phone rang.
Roland picked it up. He heard a soft raspy whisper.
"I̷s̵ ̸t̵h̵e̸r̴e̸ ̵a̵u̸g̵h̸t̴ ̵w̸e̵ ̸h̶o̸l̵d̶ ̴i̶n̶ ̴c̴o̷m̷m̵o̵n̸ ̴w̴i̴t̴h̴ ̴t̸h̷e̶ ̶g̶r̶e̴e̵d̷y̷ ̵p̶a̵r̵a̴s̷i̶t̶e̶,̷ ̸w̸h̷o̶ ̷w̷o̴u̸l̵d̷ ̶l̷a̶s̴h̵ ̷u̴s̴ ̵i̴n̶t̶o̸ ̸s̶e̷r̷f̷d̶o̴m̶ ̷a̶n̴d̸ ̴w̷o̵u̸l̵d̵ ̴c̸r̴u̴s̷h̵ ̷u̷s̶ ̴w̴i̵t̴h̶ ̶h̴i̷s̵ ̸m̸i̶g̴h̵t̵?̵"
The rhyme was followed by heavy breathing
Daggett slammed the phone down, distruved by this ominous message. Then more books fell from the shelf in succession.
Daggett felt his sweat slip from his brow. His eyes began to dart back and forth across his office. HE slammed the phone down and reached for the pistol he kept in his top drawer of his desk.
"Wha- wh..what the hell.."
He voice shook slightly, as he aimed the gun at the door of his office. He was expecting a thug or a loonie from Arkham to bust in, wanting money. Was it Batman? Had he not disappeared after all? Damn rumors, he shouldn't trust the media.
The gun was pulled down to the table, by itself. The weapon would not budge from the spot . Then a pop was heard. One of the lights went out. Pop. another. A few others started flickering rapidly.
Dagget was confused, what the hell was going on? He tried his best to lift the weapon off of the table, to no avail.
He ran to the door, pulling on it with all of his might to swing it open and get out of his office. But he was locked in with the unknown.
An explosion was heard from behind the door. Then screaming. Daggett looked out the window of the door. His employees, were running or cowering in a fetal position as if they saw their greatest fears.
Dagget's eyes were popping out, his breath panting more and more with each heavy gust of air that left his lungs. It was time for Crane to strike. He jumped down. His body was limp as a cadaver. Clothes looking torn and ragged. He then looked at Daggett, his masks having the look of a stitched mouth.
Dagget screamed in terror at the sight of this corpse-like raggedy man falling from the ceiling. He was paralyzed in fear.
The Scarecrow got up, holding his long scythe. He then threw chains at Daggett, which coiled around his body like snakes.
He threw some chains at Dagget. They coiled around his body like snakes, ensnaring him. He whispered"
"No saviour from on high delivers,
No faith have we in prince or peer.
Our own right hand the chains must shiver,
Chains of hatred, greed and fear."
"Wha-. wha- wh- what the hell are you!?" Daggett spat out, trying his best to break the chains that covered him, to little effect.
"I am the Scarecrow, Master of Fear! Certainly you've heard of me! I've been active in Gotham for quite a while. Is it the lighting? I mean I can turn if off if you wish?" Scarecrow shut the flickering lights out. All that lit the room was the moonlight.
With a swift bludgeon of his scythe, he knocked Daggett out cold. He then pressed a button, releasing the coils. He the took out some pieces of metal from the books, as well as under the table.
Roland's vision grew dark..no..the bastard just cut the light off.
"S-scarecrow? Y-Your just a loonie from Arkham!" He spouted, knowing who the man was now. His fear declined knowing that it was just a man in a mask.
"What do you want, you freak!"
Scarecrow smirked "Freak? Well…. if you say so. What do you think I want Mr. Daggett?"
"I don't know what the hell you want, ya' bastard!'
He struggled harder to break his chains
"You ain't gonna get away with this, the GCPD are going to clean your clock!
He said with a toothy grin
"You're just a man in a playsuit, pretending to be scary. Well guess what, I ain't scared of ya'!"
"Do ya' hear me!"
"I ain't scared!"
He hollered into the darkness
"Oh you should be, Mr. Dagget." He pointed at his syringes "Do you know what I plan to inject in you?"
"Wha-?"
He squinted, trying to see in the darkness.
"Syringes? What with that silly fear goop you keep? Ha! It's all fake. I ain't scared of' nothin'!"
"Fear goop? Oh no, no, no Mr. Daggett sir. I would never waste my precious fear toxin on swine like you. No, this is not my toxin. It's yours."
Daggett's eyes widened. He knew his company was in the middle of a massive scandal. They lobbied against environmental regulations, which led to them dumping chemicals into the environment, poisoning many impoverished communities. All for profit.
"If you lay one finger on me I swear to ya's I will hunt ya' like a dog! Ya' hear me you rat bastard!?"
"You don't frighten me Mr. Daggett. You are a paper tiger. All your power comes from those you ruthlessly exploit. Do you know why I dress in rags, Mr. Daggett? Scarecrow is not merely a symbol of fear. I am a symbol of poverty." He said with spite.
"Now- how about I lay 5 fingers on you?" Scarecrow injected the carcinogenic sludge he collected from the water supply into Daggett's veins.
Dagget yelped in pain due to the 5 syringes so crudely plunged into his body. He fell over in pain, as the water injected into him burned the injection site; his eyes rolled into his head in agony, as he shook in the floor, trying with all of his strength to slip away from the chains and escape this madman.
Scarecrow giggled maniacally.
"You've probably heard the news stories about what your poison has been doing to the poor and rural communities of Gotham. Heart disease. Liver failure. Cancer. I wonder what you'll get? All of the above? Oh Mr. Dagget, you will have to tell me sometime. Hopefully you won't live. Because then I'll have to come back for you. Tata for now. This place really cramps my style." Scarecrow bludgeoned Daggett with his scythe, knocking him out. He then pressed a button on a remote, and took the chains out, as well as the gun on the table.
"Fuckin' Magnets, how do they work?" Scarecrow snickered as he left the building, filled with Daggett's employees still cowering in fear.
Poison Ivy's Greenhouse
Ivy sat in the small lab section of her garden, trying to create a growth agent for some of the plant beasts she had created. They were lovely little things, but they could be a bit bigger. Then if Hatter came to call, he'd be devoured in two bites.
A flower curled around her ankle, warning her of someone approaching.
Ivy stood from her work table, shedding her gloves and walking towards the entrance to see the intruder.
Jonathan Crane stood outside the Greenhouse hoping to get Ivy's attention..
"Hi Ivy... may I come in? I would love to see your garden."
There was a long pause, before the trees and vines covering the entrance shifted and parted, allowing him entry.
"What do you want, Crane?"
Ivy asked.
She stood leaning against a tree, looking at him curiously.
He looked around. The plants were not the botanical horrors he had hoped.
"Well- you probably heard of my attack on Daggett industries which left the company crippled. It's what they deserve after polluting the earth and water with their filth. Dr. Crane gave Daggett a taste of his own medicine."
"There are more pigs to fry. But there's something I- I want to ask of you."
She nodded slowly.
"Honestly, that was quite...satisfying to see. For that, I'll hear you out. What would you have of me, Scarecrow?"
Crane had trouble speaking out. What he could say could impress Ivy- or enrage her.
"I need you- and your skills as a biochemist. You see, I would like to change myself. Be... like you."
He was still sore from his encounter with Catwoman and Riddler- both physically and emotionally. He missed his friends, but didn't know if they would continue to support him. They didn't understand his ways. Barely anyone did.
"I want your physiology. To not have to eat and live off sunlight. To not have to be attached to humanity. To create botanical beauties in my own garden."
She looked at him for a long moment. Was he serious?
"No, you don't." she said bluntly.
"You don't want this."
She dug her nails into the wood of the tree supporting her as the memories flashed back.
Months stretching into years, or was it only minutes? A smiling face, someone she used to trust. Someone she used to love, now pumping liquid pain into her body.
Crane was a bit confused. He saw Ivy fearful from his suggestion.
"Ivy... I assume the transformation was unpleasant. It is ok if you don't want to talk about it- but I will listen."
She shook her head, laughing a bit.
"Crane, even if you could somehow convince me to do this to you, it wouldn't matter. I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out for years, but I have no idea. I doubt the purpose of the initial experiment was even to do this. It was a lucky twist of fate. I was just as likely to die than become Poison Ivy."
"Well as scientists, that is the purpose of experimentation, no? We will first try them on lab rat, obviously." Crane sighed.
"I understand if you aren't willing to help out with the experiment, given your... past experience. But- do you think I can have some genetic material of yours? A q-tip swab to the mouth, or even a blood sample if you would let me."
She looked at him for a long moment.
"And what would I get out of this?" she asked flatly.
The vines on the floor started to shift, curling around her feet in an attempt to comfort the distress their mother was experiencing.
"Wouldn't it be nice to have another person like you Ivy? Who has the same connections to plants? Who doesn't use as many resources as the other humans? And if we can replicate it on one person, why not others? The world can truly belong to the plants then."
"Of course if you need my help- I'll supply it. Mad Hatter has broken out of Arkham, and he seems to hold a grudge against you. You might just need a Scarecrow to defend your garden."
She pauses for a long moment.
"If Hatter tries to make a move on me, I expect you to help."
She said finally. She held out her wrist. "I trust you keep your syringes clean?"
"Yes, of course. I have no desire to see him harm another person, let alone a- friend." Crane took out a syringe and test tube, in a sterile package. "I have every thanks to give."
Crane wrapped a tourniquet around her arm
She said nothing, simply watching him.
Some vines subtly curled around his feet, a quiet warning to not hurt their mother.
Ivy looked down at her arm. "Been a long time." she said bluntly. Crane drew the blood into the test tubes. Ivy grimaced slightly at the pain, but didn't move as he took her blood.
"Since I've been around another doctor. Longer since I've been around one who knows what they're doing."
Crane blushed at Ivy's subtle compliment "Yes- many doctors are stuck in their ivory towers. Unwilling to listen to their patients. But I do."
Crane took out a piece of cotton, and wrapped it around her arm with a bandage
"It's usually recommended to wait 15 minutes before taking this off, but I believe you have an accelerated healing factor."
"They've been in their towers, and I've been in a greenhouse." she said with a slight smile.
"And yes, thank you. I'm aware of medical procedures. I'll be alright in a couple minutes."
She flexed her arm a bit. A few flowers bloomed in her hair, tiny white blossoms curling around her ears.
Crane was satisfied with his little arrangement
"I have work to do. But I would like to see you again- if just to chat. I will stay close, in case you have any Hatter problems. You know my number."
She nods
"Sure, Crane. I'll see around, alright?"
The plants behind him parted once more, letting him exit.
Johnny waved goodbye to Ivy and smiled on his way out. He would have to find another geneticist to help him. And perhaps someone who would secure funding for the process as well.
The Iceberg Lounge
Jonathan Crane had safely stored Ivy's blood samples in a locked up compartment in his Catacombs. Now he just needed funding and resources for his latest experiment.
He decided to visit his old friend Oswald Cobblepot. The two had much in common. Bullied in their youth for their appearance, and having a love for their feathered friends. But they grew apart over time. Penguin was a capitalist motivated by money and power, while Crane was more of an anarchist who wanted to use fear to break down such social hierarchies
But- w̸e̷ ̵l̷i̷v̵e̶ ̴i̸n̴ ̵a̴ ̷s̸o̸c̵i̸e̵t̸y̸, and sometimes one has to participate in this society.
Crane was in his raggedy Hoodie. He was rather conspicuous in the Iceberg lounge where people were wearing fancy suits. The usher looked disgusted at him, but was terrified once he looked him up on the VIP list.
Crane was seated, and a waiter soon went to his table.
"May I have your order, sir?"
Scarecrow muttered "Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie,"
The waiter's brow lifted. He got the message and left to meet Cobblepot. Now Crane would just wait.
"Oh- and I'll also have Scarecrow's Sweet Nightmare." While Oswald was creating drinks named after the villains, Crane requested his not have any alcohol or caffeine. The only drugs he would take was his fear toxin.
Oswald had almost genuinely murdered the staff member who had come into his office with a frightened look on their face, seemingly shaken, when he had given strict orders for his staff to stay out of his way. Or, there would be consequences.
He had been occupied with strenuous matters of work, his head buried in stacks of gruelling paperwork.
He had grown exhausted with the constant workflow, but with the weight of Martin's life presently being in jeopardy, he had to be prepared for anything. A taxing workload was routine.
When his staff member had given him news that someone who had a code had come to visit him, he was both pleasantly surprised as well as exasperated. His waiter would have to face a punishment for his lack of knocking, but that could be settled when this had blown over.
In the end, he had given in with a defeated sigh, "Bring them in." And with that, the waiter went back outside to usher Jonathan Crane into Cobblepot's office.
Jonathan Crane? Now, there was a list of people he was expecting to see, and the Scarecrow was most definitely not one of them.
"Jonathan, what a pleasant surprise." Oswald drawled. He sounded worn out, he was feeling as much. His eyes had tired bags under them, and his attire wasn't as crisp and sharp as it was normally. He looked like an utter mess. Nothing like the usual Oswald Cobblepot did, he looked... human.
Crane walked in, holding his vegan pumpkin spice beverage in his bony fingers, drinking it with silly straw glasses that went over his real glasses.
He looked at Oswald. He was reminded of Riddler's condition, although it seemed Oswald could maintain a conversation.
"My my Oswald." He stated "You don't look well. Perhaps you should tell me what's on your mind, before I tell you what's on mine."
Oswald was aware he didn't look exactly presentable, but he didn't know the extent of such. He furrowed a brow, eyeing down at his attire self-consciously. He would have to get rid of the waiter after all.
Nobody could see him like this, besides perhaps Jonathan. "Jonathan," He straightened his uniform, his industrialist mask setting in stone. "I'd much appreciate to know the reason you have come to visit me, it is quite late. My personal matters are not of significance to you."
He scrutinised the familiar ally of his. He hooked his fingers together, regarding Jonathan expectantly. Oswald was a businessman who preferred to get straight to the point, especially when he had more pressing matters to attend to. Unless, he was putting up an image.
"Very well then." Crane took another sip of his drink before speaking "I have some projects I have in mind. It will require genetic engineering- not my field of study yet. I hear you have connections with Linda Friitawa, a disgraced but brilliant geneticist. I would like you to introduce me to her."
Oswald nodded, "I have connections with many people, Crane. Is that all?" Linda Friitawa. That was another name he hadn't heard in a while, what could Crane possibly employ her for?
He didn't care to poke his head in Crane's operations, though, especially when he was already occupied with ensuring the protection of his son.
"All I ask is a place where we can do our experiments. Shelter, a laboratory- instruments and supplies used for chemistry and bio-engineering." Scarecrow didn't want to ask Penguin for more than he needed.
"In return for this favour, I must ask. Would you be opposed to... an alliance of some sort? An agreement of mutual protection, perhaps?" Spoke Oswald.
Normally, he would consider this deal quite unfair, but in this case, Martin's protection being ensured was a far finer fee than any other request he could possibly make.
"We are in dire times, Crane. Without the Bat to manage the rot of Gotham, authority is questioned and it leads to anarchy, a lawless city."
Oswald took a brief moment to reflect on it. "And allies are a vital factor to survive in such a time of mutiny, of mayhem."
'Look how fragile this man is.' Thought Scarecrow. 'Scared out of his mind due to this lawlessness. Of course he needs the law to maintain his corrupt power. A little imbalance and he calls it anarchy. I will show him true anarchy one day.'
"I would not be opposed to such an arrangement. But I know you have many connections. And if this alliance has me cross my friends- H.Q., Eddie, Kitty, and especially Ivy then it shall be ended immediately. Understood."
Oswald wouldn't admit his true intentions, since it would put him at a severe disadvantage if Jonathan ever decided to turn on him. Which is why he had conjured up such an elaborate lie, believable when it came to a man such as himself.
His son was, admittedly, his greatest weakness. Which was the reason why most people didn't even know he had a son. If he were forced to either give up his empire, one he'd built over years of being tormented and reminded of how incapable and hopeless he was, mocked for his appearance, the betrayals he'd faced, or his son, he would give up his empire without even a split second of hesitation.
"Very well, Crane. I will gladly cooperate with your terms. But understand that I expect this to be reciprocated." With that, Cobblepot offered his hand to shake.
The Professor observed the Penguin. He seemed to be hiding the full truth. Showing just the slightest vulnerability. But to what, Crane didn't know.
"If you have any corporate big shot or mobster rivals who needs to be put in their place, I can easily take care of that." Crane stuck his twig like hand out as well
"How convenient it is that I do," Oswald stood up from where he'd been seated for the past plenty of hours, shaking Crane's hand in his.
"I have a certain reptilian problem that must be taken care of. You are aware of who Killer Croc is, I'm sure? Relations with him have already been quite tense lately, but as of recently, he has crossed the line."
Killer Croc? Crane had read his Arkham files. They had some things in common, like being bullied in their youth for their appearance. But more to the point, Croc's monstrous form was beautiful to Crane. The terror it causes people just by the sight. Going up against Croc filled Scarecrow with fear and delight.
"And what lines did he cross exactly?"
Oswald's mood seemed to visibly sour at the reminder of coming home, only to see his front door torn off and his staff being nowhere in sight.
The raw terror that had gone through him when he realised Martin could be in danger, dead, even. The way he'd grasped onto his son with watery eyes, the absolute relief.
It was too close to the feelings of a distant time, in which Oswald hadn't been as vigilant as he was now. At his son's expense. The day Martin had lost his voice.
"A personal line." He spoke with a hostile edge to his tone.
"Hmm ok. If it's personal I don't need to know. But if you would like to talk about it to Dr. Crane it will be confidential." Perhaps Croc killed or threatened a loved one of his? 'Penguin has been closed off to romance, meaning the relationship was possibly a close friend? Or even a child. ' Thought Crane. He was curious for more, but found it unlikely Oswald would just tell him.
"But onto Croc- we know he is very dangerous. I am going to need to need the laboratory to cook up the right concoctions to go up against him." He started slurping his drink again.
Oswald didn't entirely trust Crane, but he had respect for the man. Regarded him rather highly. He was an intellectual, a former professor of psychology. He respected the man's ingenious, was almost fond of it. Perhaps, he could let him in on the secret.
"Thank you, Crane. Perhaps I'll tell you, if you're absolutely positive you can keep a secret. And, if you ever use this information against me, understand that there will be no compassion from me. Even as allies. If I'm to tell you, swear you won't."
He kept his tone firm. Another ally he could trust would be advantageous, he decided, and if Crane knew who to protect when the time came, that was also beneficial.
He nodded along in agreement, "Indeed. The laboratory will be prepared by tomorrow morning at latest."
"I would never." Crane took his job as a psychologist seriously- he bent the rules, desiring to befriend his patients, but confidential information is just that.
"Thank you for the preparations. I look forward to working with Dr. Friitawa."
"Do you swear on it?" Oswald narrowed his eyes in suspicion, he had to make sure. He never made empty promises, whenever he made a promise, it was a promise.
And he would fulfil it at any means, unless it involved placing his son's life in jeopardy. Unless he was pulling some elaborate scheme, which wasn't often. "I'm sure Dr. Friitawa will feel the same."
"Of course Mr. Cobblepot. I swear on it."
Oswald was quite content with that answer. But the formalities he decided wouldn't be necessary, with the admission he was about to make. "Please, call me Oswald."
He cleared his throat, "There have been rumours spread around that I have a son. They're correct. Martin Cobblepot, an orphan I adopted at an early age after having grown a bond with him. He reminded me of myself, teased relentlessly by the other children. I sympathised with him, and taught him lessons. I didn't see myself having children before him, but he's been the source of my joy for many years. But he... in an incident, he had become a mute. Croc, had somehow found out about him. And had threatened his life."
The entire admission made him more vulnerable and that was a risk. He heard his phone go off with a buzz, but he decided to set it aside for now.
"Oh Oswald, there is no distinction between a son and an orphan you adopted." Scarecrow remembered the times his fundamentalist grandmother beat him, believing him to be Satanic. "If anything the bond is stronger. The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb. It is interesting that Croc only threatened him. Perhaps he can be reasoned with. Then again, perhaps not."
Crane sipped more of his faux-latte, but it was almost out. A gurgling noise was heard as his crazy straw sipped the last drops at the end of the glass
"Agreed. To me, he is blood. I wouldn't lay a single hand on him, raise my voice at him, if he held a knife against my throat."
He thought the idea of settling down into a loveless marriage with some harlot who only married him for his wealth sounded horrendous, Martin and his bond was greater than any blood child could ever possibly be.
"Now that Martin has been threatened, I must do everything in my power to ensure that the crocodile will understand the extent of what his 'message' has brought upon him." He had almost scowled in disdain at the obnoxious sound, but feigned indifference.
Crane sympathized with the man. Despite his wealth, power, and cruelty, he could love just like the rest of us.
"So the Croc sent you a message, huh? He has plans that involve you? What did he say? That info might be helpful in defeating him."
"To stay away from him and his people. Which won't be happening after the stunt he pulled. But, it may be possible to threaten his people, lure him into a trap and thus, corner him."
"His people eh? So Croc has little crocling goons who follow him? Interesting." What could Croc be planning? "Yes, that is a good plan. We'd have to find them first."
Crane got up
"I appreciate the help Oz. In the meantime, I better get some rest to prepare for tomorrow. We are going to have a long week ahead of us."
"A long week indeed." Oswald sighed in exasperation, tired. "Don't overwork yourself, Crane. Rest up." He spoke, somewhat hypocritically, with something close to, but not quite, kindness.
Possibly consideration, as he gave his... acquaintance, a nod to dismiss him. He called an usher to see him out.
Oswald was not a man to be underestimated. He had been underestimated all throughout his life, for his appearance, and in the past, even his status.
Those who had underestimated had copped a ruthless punishment. He had gone from being a nobody to being a somebody. He had built his own empire through thick and thin. And he was keen on making that known.