Howdy. It's been a while, but here's a timely little one-shot.
Gotham was quarantined. Not for the first time, not for the last time. It wasn't as bad as the earthquake, cut-off-from-the-world incident, but it was definitely worse than the quarantine that resulted from the Joker claiming he and North Korea had infected everyone in Gotham with weaponized gonorrhea. That quarantine had lasted two days, until the leader of North Korea had made a rare appearance to refute the clown's claims.
This quarantine would not be so brief. Luckily for Jonathan Crane, quarantine or no quarantine, he'd be doing the same thing. Being an introverted supervillain who could cook fear toxin for weeks on end had its advantages.
Crane carefully adjusted the heat on the Bunsen burner. A few degrees too hot and the mixture would vaporize, filling the room with terror-inducing gas. A few degrees too cold and the solute would separate, leading to-
Suddenly there came a tapping, as of someone gently rapping, gently rapping on Crane's fourth-floor window. He looked up from his freshest batch of fear toxin. Who or what in the hell was that? Switching off the burner to prevent an explosion, Crane went to investigate. He made sure to bring a bit of finished toxin with him, just in case it wasn't a curious pigeon.
Alas, it was not a curious pigeon. Though it did have wings and it did have a brain of roughly the same size and complexity as the least-loved member of the dove family.
"Hey, Crane, you wanna let me in? It's raining."
"I can see that. Why are you darkening my windowsill?" Crane replied.
"Because I've been flying around for three hours and, not gonna lie, I think I've got hypothermia. I really need to get out of this rain."
Crane leered at the pathetic, sopping bug plastered to the windowpane. "You do know I'm the Scarecrow, yes? Catwoman is known for taking in strays, not me."
"But the Riddler said you'd do it."
"I'm going to strangle that little- Wait! How on earth did you find the Riddler?"
"Two-Face gave me a couple of addresses."
"And where pray tell did you find Two-Face? Last I heard he was considering another attempt at reformation."
"I guess it fell through, 'cause I happened to be flying by and saw him robbing a secondhand store. Don't really get that. Oh, second, two, I get it now."
Crane took a calming breath. "Why didn't you stay with Two-Face or the Riddler?"
"Because Two-Face said he'd shoot me if I didn't get the hell away from him, and the Riddler said he'd love to invite me in so his security robot could annihilate me but because of the quarantine he couldn't get anyone to clean the blood off his rug. So, yeah. But each of them was nice enough to give me another address."
"If they led you here, they really weren't that nice."
Killer Moth peered into the room. "I dunno, it looks dry. That's all I want right now. Crane, I am freezing. Do me a solid and let me in. I'll do anything."
"You are going to regret those words," Crane said.
"Yeah, probably."
Crane opened the window and Killer Moth flapped in. And not a moment too soon. The batteries for his wings, which had been going nearly non-stop for three hours, quit. Killer Moth dropped to the floor with a grunt.
"Phew, that was close." Killer Moth stood and brushed himself off.
Like a toddler with no concept of danger or the permeance of death, Killer Moth started wandering around the room. "Wow, lot of chemicals here. You, uh, planning something?"
"You could say that," Crane said warily. He wasn't remotely concerned with Killer Moth blabbing, but more with Killer Moth touching something, knocking it over, and creating a catastrophic domino effect that destroyed his good work.
Killer Moth whistled. "Wish I had this kind of motivation. Today was the first time I got out of bed before noon. And look how it ended up."
Crane really didn't care about the tragicomedy that was Killer Moth's life, but even without prompting, the buggy villain started recounting his grand adventure. After waking up at a decent, productive hour, Killer Moth had decided to dive into a grand crime. He'd figured, as jewelry stores weren't essential businesses, they'd be empty of all but the most minimal staff. And even Killer Moth could cocoon a single security guard.
What Killer Moth, in all his genius, hadn't considered was that Gotham jewelers were all much smarter than he was. Upon smashing his way into the least-secured store he could find, Killer Moth discovered…absolutely nothing. Every jewelry case was empty. All the precious gems were locked away in a vault or a deposit box or under the owner's mattress. Far, far away from sad little moth paws.
"You thought what exactly? That in Gotham, the most crime-ridden city in America, a city where Girl Scouts carry Tasers when they deliver cookies, you'd waltz in and find riches? How has some convenience store clerk not shot you yet?" Crane asked.
"I'm good at ducking," Killer Moth replied.
"At least you have one talent."
"I've had lots of experience. And I got some more today. There wasn't anything to steal, but there was a security guard. And he was huge. So was his gun. I thought I was going to get my ass filled with buckshot."
"So you flew out of there and promptly found Two-Face," Crane guessed. "And the rest is history."
"More or less," Killer Moth confirmed. "I wish I had a crew like him. If I had a couple of goons I could-"
"Be beaten up by them when you failed to pay them?"
"You do have to pay goons, don't you?"
Crane pinched the bridge of his nose. He was starting to get a headache.
"You know any good goons who'd work on credit?" Killer Moth asked.
"My goons have standards."
Killer Moth removed his helmet and sighed. "I know, I know. I'm outclassed. You're the Scarecrow. You're Legion of Doom material. I'm the guy who tried to rob a granny and got whacked on the ass with her cane."
Crane knew this. He and most of the human race had seen the viral video of Killer Moth's public spanking.
"I'm just happy you let me in before my wings crapped out and I, uh, died," Killer Moth continued. "So I totally respect you and what you've got to do."
"What I've got to do," Crane repeated.
"Uh-huh. No hard feelings, I'm cool with it."
"You're cool with it."
"Yep."
Crane decided the charade had gone on long enough. He leveled with Killer Moth and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."
"You're really going to make me say it?"
"Yes! Out with it!"
"You're going to test your new fear gas on me! Don't get me wrong, I'm not looking forward to it at all, but I accept that fair is fair. You could have let me freeze out there, but you didn't. So go ahead and spray me."
Crane stared at Killer Moth. The unfortunate bug made a weak attempt to meet Crane's eyes but quickly looked away. Like a guilty child unwilling to admit he stole the last cookie, Killer Moth kept his eyes on the ground and shifted his weight from foot to foot.
"That was my original intent," Crane finally admitted.
Killer Moth looked up. "But…"
"But I changed my mind." Crane debated explaining why, in cruel, exact detail, he had decided Killer Moth was unsuitable. The plan Crane had cooked up in the interim, however, required Killer Moth be a bit more trusting. And able to fly.
"How long would it take you to recharge your flight system?" Crane asked.
"The tank's on E, so at least three or four hours."
Crane considered the clock on the wall. Plenty of time to be ready by morning.
"Do it. Then we'll have a chat, no fear toxin involved."
Killer Moth fist-pumped the air. "Awesome! Just point me to the nearest outlet."
Crane did just that. Killer Moth trotted over to the wall and doffed his flight suit. Once he had the wings off, Killer Moth extracted a short extension cord and plug from the suit. He connected it to the wall socket and set the wings on the floor.
"Fun fact, I can also plug a Tesla charger into my suit," Killer Moth said. "Not that you can find one that isn't vandalized in this city."
Once the suit was charging, Killer Moth returned to Crane. "So…what's the plan? Who am I crop-dusting with fear toxin?"
"Filthy idiots and contagious morons," Crane replied.
"Neat. Where am I gonna find them?"
Crane snorted. "This is Gotham. Everywhere."
Killer Moth began to look nervous. "I might need better directions. I really don't want to screw this up."
"No, you don't," Crane agreed. "Luckily for you and your continued sanity, I prepared a list of suitable places to release my toxin. I originally planned to whittle the list down and drive from location to location. You can reach far more of them by air."
Crane transferred the list from his brain to a piece of paper. He handed the list to Killer Moth, who roved his eyes up and down it.
"This is…a really weird list. Why these places? Unless it's none of my business."
"It is, in fact, none of your business. You're indebted to me and will do as I say. But I will explain. These are an assortment of businesses that have wormed their way out of closing for the good of public health. Since a raging epidemic is insufficient reason for them to close, you and I are going to give them a better one," Crane explained.
Killer Moth read over the list again. "Aren't most of these places really fancy, too?"
Crane grinned. "If a millionaire eating gold-plated brunch happened to lose his wallet in the chaos, nothing would stop you from picking it up."
"Flattening the curve and getting paid, I like this plan!" Killer Moth said. "Maybe that millionaire would have enough in his wallet for me to hire a couple of goons!"
The image of how great his life would become once he surrounded himself with the best and burliest goons money could buy was so enticing Killer Moth got lost in it. Crane had to snap his fingers in front of Killer Moth's face before he shook himself out of his fantasy.
"Pay attention! You won't get any goons if you're caught! Or if you fail spectacularly and make me look like an ass in the process! Fear toxin is my signature. I am throwing my name in with yours."
Killer Moth sobered abruptly.
"Much better. As I was saying before you drifted off, I am going to load a portion of this toxin into a pressurized cannister. You will use this cannister to 'crop dust,' as you put it. It is a simple mechanism, but do not aim the nozzle at your face. Now might also be a good time to ask, does your helmet filter toxins?"
"Not as good as I'd like it to. This one time I was flying over the dump and-"
"Then I'll get you a filter for under the helmet," Crane interrupted. "I am planning for all eventualities, including you gassing yourself."
"Good idea," Killer Moth said.
"Get in, spray anyone who looks like they mingle with Bruce Wayne, and get out. Grab any obvious valuables, but don't linger. I am looking for widespread casualties."
Killer Moth nodded. "I can do that."
"You'd better. I am going to start transferring the toxin now. Stay out of the way, keep your hands in your pockets, and touch nothing. Actually, go sit over there by your flight suit."
Killer Moth obeyed, plopping himself down next to his wings. He watched as Crane moved with practiced deftness, handling mind-breaking poison with seemingly casual ease. Maybe, if he was able to carry out this mission, Crane would offer to make their team-up permanent. Then Killer Moth would get some respect, and the first thing that came up when someone searched for him online wouldn't be a video of that time he got kicked in the crotch by the nail salon lady and…
The snores told Crane his partner in crime would have no more idiotic stories that night. Excellent. Crane could now work without any distractions, and Killer Moth wouldn't fall asleep mid-flight.
Crane decided he'd have a strong cup of coffee ready as insurance. He was more than confident in his fear toxin. Killer Moth, on the other hand, was going to need all the help and death threats Crane could give him.
The End!
Author's Notes:
The "suddenly there came a tapping" line is stolen from Poe's The Raven.