Diabolical | T. Drake ✔

[00] Scaredy Crow

A pungent smell of chemicals diffused through the damp air of a dark basement with only one corner lit up. In that corner, an old broken table was patched up with screws and tapes, and on top of that table was an entire setup of a chemical testing lab.

Test tubes, boilers, flasks, and a stash of needles along with syringes were aligned painstakingly while a thin figure worked in the corner. Beside that table were cabinets that contained more of the apparatus.

"I must get it right... It must be right this time..." He was mumbling in the silence, focused on his task as he mixed the contents of two test tubes, stepping back when the conical flask emitted a grey fume.

His features were covered with a gas mask, his eyes sunken into hollow rings above his cheekbones. Thin skeletal hands poured yet another chemical into the mix, stirring it until the grey faded into light yellow.

The basement he was in didn't look like an ordinary basement either. It appeared to be an ancient lab with all the equipment fixed up for use but having a very old feel to it. It seemed as if years ago, that very basement had been used for extensive chemical experimentation, judging by the variety of equipment available.

He searched for his pen, finding it under the table as he straightened and completed writing the equation he was testing. It would be his third attempt at creating the solution and he had a feeling that he had gotten it right at last.

"So do you want me to gas you or inject you?" He asked, switching on the other bulb that dimly illuminated a man tied to a chair, shaking in terror.

"No... Please, no..."

"Relax, Scaredy Crow, it's not your gas," he filled up a syringe with that yellow liquid, "it's an antidote. The antidote if I have gotten it right."

That man was none other than Jonathan Crane, best known as Scarecrow, and right then he was at the mercy of a thirteen year old boy who had locked him up in his basement and was blackmailing him for the past few days to give up the recipe for his fear gas.

Seeing that there was no use blackmailing him as Crane hadn't said a word except turning every question into a psychological evaluation, the boy had to resort to other measures. He ended up using the fear gas on Scarecrow himself and claimed that he would prepare the antidote by testing it on him.

Thus, Jonathan Crane was under the effects of his own created fear gas. But right then, even the gas couldn't show anything else in comparison to that little midget who could easily haunt even Scarecrow's nightmares.

"How do you know it's right this time?"

The boy shrugged, "I think it is. And that will be confirmed in just a sec. So hold still..."

"No! Get away from me!"

The needle punctured his skin as the so-called antidote was injected into his veins. A burning sensation erupted inside him but his screams were muffled out by a damp grey towel that the boy thrust into his mouth.

"I told you to be silent... The tenants upstairs are going to wake up otherwise and I'd prefer if we don't have to face any other company at this crucial moment," he warned, taking out the towel when the screams subsided.

Crane was shaking but the green fumes swirling in his vision had stopped. And that midget no longer looked like a version of the grim reaper wearing a raven mask. Instead, he was just a thirteen year old in baggy clothes, wearing a conventional gas mask as if to mock Scarecrow.

Everything that had felt so terrifying earlier was beginning to get tamer and Crane looked around in relief, finding himself in just a basement with no scary individuals except one.

"Is it working?" The boy asked eagerly, removing his mask to reveal a thin skeletal face with dull blue eyes.

The suffocation that had gripped him earlier was also starting to fade but his eyes sparked in contempt as he spat out, "you are insane, Timothy... Insane..."

"Coming from someone of your level, I'll take it as high praise," he smiled and Scarecrow drew back again, alarmed that he might do something else that would result in a tortuous experience.

He had been there for five days yet he already felt he was losing his mind, something that had never happened before.

"Though I must ask, how does it feel to get a taste of your own medicine?" The boy smiled triumphantly, realizing that his antidote had worked as Crane no longer looked terrified.

"Shut up," he hissed, trying to think of a way out but his brain was shutting down from exhaustion.

Timothy grew alert as if he had just recalled something and skipped back to his table, finding the page he had opened in his notebook. There he started listing down the effects the toxin injected into Jonathan Crane had had on him.

Anger, hatred, mild relief, and then slowly coming back to normal behavior. P.S. This specimen is 100% asshole, next time choose someone more cooperative. He wrote down in a hasty scribble that only he could understand.

"So how do you feel?" He asked not looking up from his notes.

"I feel like killing you," Crane hissed, "insufferable little psycho."

"So you're no longer afraid? Ah, the gas is no longer affecting you then, I knew it!" He did a whoop of joy, looking back at Crane who was bracing himself for another tortuous experience. "Thanks a lot, Doctor Crane. With your help, I've finally made the antidote!"

"Thanks?" He erupted, "you're keeping me here without my will, and by the way you're injecting me, I might as well die any minute now from chemical poisoning!"

"Look, Mister I love to use chemicals on everyone but myself, be grateful you're not in Arkham. One tip from me to Batman and you'll easily be behind bars," he shrugged nonchalantly, quite unaffected by the murderous glare the man was sending his way.

"Fuck Batman."

"If you prefer dudes obsessed with dressing up as bats then go for it," he chuckled, not seeing the disgusted face Crane made as he closed his notebook at last, "so what do you want to eat? Except for rats, of course."

"I do not eat rats, you disgusting filth!"

"Appreciate the compliment," he totally ignored the hatred in the man's tone as he added, "I am going to fetch food from the supermarket, do you want anything?"

Jonathan had never before met someone as absurd as that little boy. He considered but then knew he had no other option. If the boy was asking him himself about food then why should he keep starving? Besides, he wasn't sure whether the little psycho would let him go or not either.

"Just bring something which is food by human standards," he remarked, "and for the hundredth time, do not bring me rats."

"Gotcha. I'll be back in a while," he checked his bonds again to make sure that Scarecrow wouldn't be able to escape in his absence then picking up a large black coat, the boy hid himself under it and left the basement. 

He had switched off all the lights, leaving Jonathan Crane in darkness again, cursing his fate for being held hostage by that tiny but menacing kid.

***