AN: Seeing as Batman can get antidotes, Jonathan has to make new strains to get around that. And that probably isn't easy-if it were easy, I'd make some and market it as the new pepper spray. 'Hands up-AUGH!' Ha. Mug me now, asshole.
Johanna Crane-Understandable. Very understandable. Gotham is probably the only city in the world where you can kill somebody and several people will go, 'yeah, bastard had it coming.'
Christineoftheopera-Laugh now, scream later. She's in my laboratory at the moment, actually-drugged out of her mind, of course, but those should wear off soon.
BOOM!
"Jonathan!" Oh, dear god, if he'd set the lair on fire again… "Jonathan, what did you do?"
"I got it!" There was a bout of coughing. "I finally solved the problem! The heat was too much for it!"
Well, nothing was on fire. That was good.
Something had shorted out-she could smell burned wires-but other than that, everything seemed to be fine. Granted, the current subject was shrieking its head off through the gag, but that was to be expected.
"That's good, love."
"It kept wearing off in thirty seconds." he explained, already rummaging for a syringe. "But this should last longer."
He filled the syringe, forced the subject's head back, and injected it before ripping the gag off.
The subject screamed nonstop for thirty seconds…and dropped dead of a heart attack.
Crap.
Three…two…one…
"Dammit!" He flung the syringe against the far wall. "What is it? What is the matter with it? It's not the heat, it's not the plant…why isn't it working?"
He shook the dead subject back and forth before overturning the chair it was taped to.
Oh, boy. This was going to be a long day.
THE END