#typing this made me realize that this fella carries deadly neurotoxins on his person like they’re cough drops.

[arkhampsych]

@spirit-x-ing | 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐄𝐃.

𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘭𝘵 ? Crane swiped his messages away and returned to his contact album. He realized after scrolling through page after page that the connection he planned to call was criminal — of course he didn’t save their number. He sighed and placed his phone back in his pocket. He’d have to track down this pyromaniac in Gotham’s cesspool of crime and poverty : 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘰𝘸𝘴.

A bit more work than he would’ve liked.

He strode down the steps to his warehouse’s lower level, grabbing his briefcase off the industrial table occupying the center of his room. After switching off the lights at a power control panel, he exited through a side entrance — more convenient than messing with the lock and chain keeping the large front doors shut.

His mind hadn’t registered the half - hour of scenery that passed outside his car between the warehouse and Narrows. He parked his car by an old diner and pulled on a pair of fitted black gloves. The city was always deceptively quiet just before entering the heart of its corruption. 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘮 𝘣𝘦𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘮. Crane opened his briefcase, taking stock of his equipment,

𝘢 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘴𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘮𝘱𝘶𝘵𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦 — not as practical as it was stylish. 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴 𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘭𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘳. 𝘴𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘭 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘱𝘱𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘴. 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘢𝘴𝘢𝘭 𝘦𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦. and his new contraption, 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘹𝘪𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘦𝘹𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘤𝘦.

He removed his watch from his wrist, replacing it with the cuff laced with his deadly neurotoxin. This method of weaponized fear was more convienient than reaching into his coat for the glass syringe he kept tucked inside a black leather pouch. He stood before an alley entrance, his breath clouding at his mouth in a similar fashion to the vapor billowing out of a sewer grate.

Other than the fact the alleyway ran parallel to Park Row, it’s dampened brick walls and littered walkway appeared like any other. After walking only three minutes, a door opened — from the smell, Crane assumed it was the back entrance to some seedy bar. Two men dragged out a helplessly intoxicated man, and proceeded to beat him as he was cornered against a wall. The Good Doctor stepped around them, leaving the gentlemen to sort out their business in privacy.

The establishment he was searching for was only a twenty minute walk. He arrived at an open door, smoke wafting from the entrance. A man sat with his back to the doorway, blasting music through a small speaker while sautering a worn sheet of metal, clad in long johns, a stained thermal, and a face gaurd. The entire room was lined with shelves displaying broken electronics. A bin, occupying the center and blocking much of the walkway featured carelessly tossed or fenced computers and radios. Crane waited patiently for the sounds of searing metal to cease before speaking. Only, his presence was discovered by the demolitions expert first. He spun pointing a gun at Crane from across the room, “ Get out ! ” the man yelled from beneath a metal face gaurd. Crane ignored the firearm, stepping towards a shelf and switching off the speaker blasting noise. “ Hey ! ” The Man stood, lifting his face gaurd and glaring at The Doctor with wide, blood shot eyes, “ Who the fuck do you think you are ?! ”

“ I was referred to you, two years ago … ” The Man looked at Crane skeptically. “ I commissioned a series of remote detonators. ” The Doctor added. The Demolitions Expert grinned, lowering his fire arm “ o h … you’re that nutty professor who wanted to blow the university sky high. ” Crane smiled stiffly at the severe oversimplification of his objective, “ yes. that’s … yeah. ” he nodded to himself. In retrospect, attempting to level Gotham U was, perhaps, a bit frenzied and reckless. “ Listen teach, after the flood I pawned off all the detonators you commissioned to some guy online but — ”

“ oh no, ” Crane interjected, “ I’m here for something else. ” he stepped forward. “ eh ? ” The Man lit a joint, “ What’s that. ” Crane held his breath as smoke was absently blown his way. “ chemical warfare. ”

“ you gonna napalm some poor bastards professor ? ” The Man smirked, his crudely rolled joint dangled from the edge of his mouth and wagged with each word. “ no. ” Crane smiled as patiently as he was able, “ I would like to expose a group of people to a vaporized psychotropic compound. ” The Man stared at him. “ a gas. ” Crane simplified.

“ Wait here. ” The Man tossed his lighter onto his work desk and grunted as he stepped around the bin of defunct electronics. Crane approached the work desk, curious what The Demolitions Expert had in mind. “ You’re looking for some kind of emission device right ? ”

“ preferably one that can be activated remotely. ” The Doctor specified. “ Uh huh. ” The Man pulled a box off of a shelf and carelessly dropped it onto his work station. Crane opened the box and looked up at The Man in long johns, “ what is this. ” The Man picked up a circular device that sat comfortably in his palm. The side had a small black button and several wires connecting to a vent in the middle of the disk. “ Take off the back, ” he flipped the disk over in his palm and picked up a screwdriver, “ Put whatever shit you want your students to choke on here — ” he tapped a small pocket of space intended to hold cartridge, “ Screw the back panel on, press this little button here on the side to calibrate it, and use this remote. ” He reached into the box, grabbing a small cylindrical device with a metal button on top.

“ how much. ” Crane asked flatly. The Man squinted at the device and brushed it with his thumb, “ Shit I dunno … seven hundred. ”

“ each ? ” “ Yeah. ”

Crane exhaled and laid his briefcase on the table. He popped it open, taking out two rolls of one - hundred - dollar bills. “ this should be more than enough … ” He closed his briefcase and lifted the box, carrying it under his arm. The Demolitions Fanatic counted the money he’d been paid as Crane made his way out the door. “ What, you don’t gotta know math to get a degree ? ” The Man scoffed, “ This ain’t even half. ” Crane turned impatiently, glaring at The Fanatic from outside his shop’s doorway, “ it’s more than enough. ” He reiterated. “ Fuck you man — ” The Man tossed a radio out the doorway, It shattered on the ground, springs and screws skipping down the Alleyway. Crane froze, watching the man approach with a gun from his periphery. “ What kind of shit is this ?! ”

The Doctor calmly set the box down, turning towards The Man and raising a hand while reaching into his coat. His other hand re - appeared, clutching burlap. He pulled on his mask, raising both hands to indicate that he was unarmed. The Man stepped back warily “ w — ? ”

Crane thrust his wrist forward. Poison cascaded from his sleeve, tainting the air with terrible 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘴 and 𝘷𝘪𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴. The Demolitions Expert choked on The Doctor’s corrupted drug, his heart beat violently against his ribs as the ceiling above him stretched. He dropped his gun, cowering from the phantom that towered over him.

Crane observed his compound’s effects on the once brazen 𝘱𝘺𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘢𝘤. When he was satisfied by the foolish man’s whimpers, he returned to the box he’d left in the alleyway and set in stride towards his car.