Happy New Year everybody? Got your resolutions figured out yet? I'm still ironing out mine, while cooking food and prepping for festivities tonight. But I did find the time to come by and drop off an update. Enjoy!
Chapter 4: A Trap for a Bat
Rain was pouring atop the tin roof, creating a roar of noise within the large warehouse. It had taken him longer than he anticipated to pinpoint the precise location to target. The first place he'd wasted two days staking out had been the scene of a mob battle the night before. And of course, it ended in the building being caught on fire, a careless act completely heedless of the expensive and lucrative chemicals within. Honestly, Crane couldn't wait until Joker or Dent took the rest of the lagging gangs out so he wouldn't have to deal with this kind of stupidity. An entire two days wasted, and another two days spent trying to locate the next target. It was tedious work, checking, verifying, and rechecking the building and the contents within. But it was worth it, even if it was across town.
Tonight he'd be waiting for the Bat to appear, and once he showed all Crane had to do was drop a few pellets into the barrels of chemicals. The entire complex would be filled with the toxin. This time it wouldn't matter if he had a gas mask or not, it would be absorbed through his very skin. Crane had already taken the antidote and given himself plenty of time to absorb the compound, so it would be little more than a mild nuisance for him. But the Bat would drop instantly into horrified screams. What a beautiful sight!
Clouds had filled the sky by midday and with them came the flooding rain, masking the trailing daylight outside. But he knew his trap would be irresistible for the Bat. The last few days were spent doing more than staking out this location, he was also spreading rumors, planting seeds of curiosity and fear within the underbelly of Gotham. The sleazy nightclubs, the frequented dirty restaurants – they were the typical places he might look for information. He'd done the same thing previously as a setup for the other warehouse but the mob had ruined his plans, as he hoped Batman would realize. The last thing he needed was a confused adversary across town still picking up the pieces from a failed attempt. No, he had to hope the Batman could figure out the obvious, even with his "all brawn, no brain" methods.
Crane pried loose the lids of two large barrels. He hadn't even needed the crowbar to lift them off completely, and he smiled at his newfound physical prowess. This would be a glorious night. Across the building he heard the tiniest sound of clanging metal almost hidden by the pounding rain, and hunkered down behind the barrels in preparation. As expected, a dark shape was slinking across the catwalk above, probably hoping to jump down and surprise him. The Batman could be so predictable sometimes.
Slowly the shape moved, and just as it stopped above Crane, he felt he could chance a movement to get this started. He reached one hand up over the barrel, the pellets clutched within, when a sharp pain shot through it. Retracting his hand revealed a large metallic bat shaped object protruding from the back; he pulled it out in frustration. At the same time, a thump from behind told him the Batman had just landed.
"Come out, Scarecrow. Whatever you're planning, it won't work."
Crane smirked. It didn't sound as though he was even wearing his gas mask, the fool. With a grunt, Crane shoved against the barrel, tipping the brownish green liquid onto the floor in the direction the Bat was standing. Of course Batman didn't take any chances, and took higher ground on top of a table, though he did look a bit surprised.
"I see you were able to find me. Excellent, perhaps you're not as dumb as you look."
The Bat narrowed his eyes. Excellent.
"I suppose you're wondering: What exactly is the Scarecrow planning to do? Can't say that I blame you; with a dangerous man like myself out on the loose, who knows what vile deeds I may be up to?"
Batman's eyes flicked down for a moment. "What have you done to yourself?" Was there a tad bit of concern in his gravelly voice?
Crane looked down at his feet, then he noticed his hand. The hand he'd just pulled the Batarang out of was certainly healed, the blood simply sitting on top of his clothes instead of oozing from the wound. However now there was a thick tuft of fur sticking out of it. He held it up curiously. "What did iI/i do? This was iyour/i stupid Batarang!"
Crane was panicking, he must have been. His heart was racing, and the colors of the room were becoming bright and vibrant, as though someone had turned the contrast up high on his vision. Batman was moving quickly towards him, and Crane held out his clutched hand in warning. "Don't you dare. If I mix this with the… with the…"
His arm was shaking uncontrollably and it was becoming difficult to speak. His tongue felt thick and immobile. What in the world was happening to him? Then pain shot from the base of his spine up his back and into his shoulders. He cried out, shutting his eyes shut against the pain as he hit the ground. The mask was being pulled off, and although he wanted to keep it on, he couldn't move. The pain was excruciating and he vaguely noticed Batman pull the pellets out of his hand. But it didn't look like his hand at all anymore: the fingers were elongated, the palm was extending, and Crane's eyes went wide as he realized whose claws they looked like.
"Bat – man?" he whispered, his voice sounding hoarse and guttural; nothing like his normal smooth tone. What was he turning into? And as he slipped away to unconsciousness he felt the pellets fall silently from his other hand and onto the cold metal floor. In his mind's eye he could see them rolling straight into the chemical. If the Batman was howling in terror, he doubted he'd be around to see it. What a shame.
He lunged, mouth wide and arms outspread at the Bat. Were those large claws his? No, surely not. The Bat was fast though his eyes were wide, and he dodged out of the way. But the fear pellets had already begun to release and he was losing his balance. Easy prey. The toxin smelled horrible, almost like ammonia, and it burned his eyes. Odd, he didn't recall it even having a scent before. Outside. He had to get out of here.
The night was cold as the rain poured down upon him. He was free and running along the back alleys and black pavement of the city. Bright moving lights blinded him, so he avoided the streets and kept to the shadows. But he needed food. Always so very hungry. He clawed absently at his stomach in a foolish attempt to stop the hunger, but the pain only made it worse. What a ridiculous response, Crane thought to himself.
Crimson and spicy: the smell of blood. It was not terribly fresh but still there. He followed the scent, bounding easily between buildings and rooftops. Then in the distance, a bundled up homeless woman was keeping warm under a makeshift tarp, a fire burning within an old trashcan. She was menstruating, Crane realized, but there was no way to tell the beast or even direct it. Like a prowling lion it moved soundlessly and effortlessly between the large trash bins. The frail woman barely had time to scream before his teeth sunk into her soft belly. No she hadn't been menstruating after all. But the baby wasn't doing well, hence all the blood. Eventually her struggling stopped as the beast gorged itself on the woman and the dying fetus within. Crane couldn't take it anymore. He turned away from the beast and wondered if the night would ever end.