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Last Edit: Sept 18, 2012 13:59:53 GMT -5 by croc
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Post by croc on Sept 18, 2012 0:45:32 GMT -5
There was a group of survivors living down there in the long-abandoned subway station. And every one of them had something in common. They were outcasts, being the most unfortunate and ill-fated of Gotham City's many citizens. So they had all migrated down into the sewers in an effort to make an escape from a dangerous life on the streets. And while they were not criminals by the definition of the word they also harboured a killer within them. A Killer Croc. The small group were the only ones in his life who could accept him for who he was.
The homeless were all huddled around a small fire that had been lit inside an old rubbish bin. The glow of the flames cast light all around the area. Almost out of the reach of that light, back against the old station wall, arms crossed and watching the people stood Killer Croc himself. A family. The people who he was watching looked very similar to a large, dysfunctional family. The eldest of the people sat in the center of the group; the surrogate father figure, maybe. Shadows from the flames danced across his long, white beard and ragged clothing. Other people were dotted around him, mostly men but also a few women and a couple of children even. A family. Croc did not want a family, and so he kept his distance from the group.
Croc’s current situation did not feel natural at all to him. None of the people in front of him around the rubbish bin choose to bother him – none even made the odd stare or concerned glance back in his direction. In fact, at one point, he even wondered if they knew he was there. That would make for a nice surprise. And so, not feeling as part of the group and not interested with staying around by the fire with the ‘family’ of homeless people, Croc decided it was time to leave. See if anyone noticed. There were certain things that he had to attend to anyway.
Bile, swamp-like water sloshed around under Croc’s feet in the sewer tunnels and other water trickled down the rusted pipes and framework. The water he was walking in was dirty, with a brown colour. There was some rubbish dotted around the sides and a lot of rats swarming around. The place oozed a strange scent, which was not totally repulsive to Croc as it would be to nearly anyone else. He liked it in his own way. It smelt like home.
Though there was something slightly array.
There was definitely another smell mixed in with the sewage. Croc noticed this and came to a stop, lifting his nose into the air and concentrated in taking in the odd, new smell. It belonged to something living, he was sure. A person…
At an excited pace he stalked down a side tunnel, tracking the scent like a hunting dog and eager to find whoever dared to enter his domain. Every step he took down through the tunnels and the scent grew stronger. He slowed his pace as he reached the source of the scent. It was familiar, belonging to someone he had come across in the past. Who? He couldn’t remember until his eyes were laid upon him.
The man who he was tracking was a Dr. Jonathan Crane.
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Sept 25, 2012 21:54:58 GMT -5
The Penguin and what he had done to him was never far from his mind, even after his wounds had healed. The doctor’s arm was in far between working condition, with only a minor strain every now and then. He had already visited with Luthor, and gotten much of the equipment he needed to fix what had been done. Before he could carry out anything however, he had to make a place for his grand plot. This was something that not even Luthor would know about and he intended to keep it that way.
Edward and him had already had their encounter and given him the apartment. The apartment as spacious as it was couldn’t be used for this. It was an excellent lab and he had taken measure to make sure it was properly turned into one, but for this he needed an entirely different environment. On the tenth floor on the North side of Gotham was just far too exposed for the danger that this plan was going to contain, and contain it he had to.
Dr. Crane was no stranger to the sewers in fact, earlier in his career he used them often, and much earlier in his childhood he had become acquainted with them. His fingers dipped into the grate in the alley way and he pulled it open to throw a load of heavy equipment down the dark hole. The sound of the chains and shackles trickled down the ladder until he knew they were safely at the bottom and he followed them down. Before he began his decent he pulled the manhole back over to cover his tracks and jumped off the last few steps so he wouldn’t land on the chains.
His pace was slow as he began through the sewers, carrying the heavy equipment. He didn’t want anything to fall into the middle or get hung up on any of the piping stick out so he had to take it slow. It did give him time to reflect on these walls which were all too familiar to him.
----
He had gained an opportunity! This was it! This was it! He was free! Jonathan’s heart fluttered with an essence of absolute relief when he took a giant leap off of the porch and bolted into the forest ahead…..This was how he wanted it to feel, but it didn’t. His hands were black and sticky, his clothing was soaked in blood, ash and mud. The only thing that could be clearly seen on his was the streams of tears that were falling around his cheeks. He barely made it through the field past the ominous looking scarecrow before he looked back to see if something was after him.
Nothing was, but his mind almost expected there to be. The house had seen everything, the scarecrow had seen everything! Everyone knew what had happened. He finally made it into the tree line and the world around him got much darker. He didn’t have a problem with the dark normally, but at a dead run it wasn’t very inviting. But he couldn’t stop now, he could never stop, he was going to be running the rest of his life. He looked back again just to see the silent house that had disappeared quickly into the tree line behind him. He should have been looking forward because he jumped right off of a clearing that sent him tumbling down the hill and into the mud. As if he didn’t have enough on him. The whimpering boy tried to get up, his elbows and face now partially covered. To his knowledge he wasn’t hurt, but he didn’t care. Jonathan went straight back into a dead run.
He couldn’t believe what he had done, he’d never be forgive for this. He couldn’t ever be forgiven in the first place! He was an abomination and everything was going to think of him like that. Jonathan must have run for an hour before he came to a dead halt when the ground below him changed. His shoes had hit pavement, was he at a main road?...Had he really run that far? The filthy child stood in the middle of the road for only a moment before a blinding light hit his eyes. The large Iris of the boy turned into the light as it came to a screeching stop inches in front of him. A man had gotten out of the car that nearly hit him and started shouting at him. ‘Jesus…Kid…Kid!’ Was all he got out before Jonathan broke into a dead run again for the adjacent tree line.
It would be another two miles before Jonathan finally had to stop to breath. Had he taken a breath at all through all of that? That was a stupid thing to think….Of course he had. He wasn’t sure where his mind was, lost in the darkness of the woods. He knew from driving with his mom that this could go on forever, especially if he was going in circles. From running in a single direction, he doubted that he had, but being a young boy alone in the dark woods was not a good incentive to think rationally. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something that seemed out of place in the forest. It was a small dip that led into a decent sized hole.
Slowly, the boy made his way forward to inspect. The smell hit him first but upon discovering that the tunnel was man-made he decided to take it. It must have been a sewer that led to….somewhere. He was out of options and right now this looked like the best place to go. As he walked through the darkness of the sewer he felt content until his foot splashed into a large sewage puddle. It only got worse as he progressed. By the time he knew it he was hanging onto the side ankle deep in whatever it was. It took another 30 minutes before it started to let up…
When he came to a fork in the tunnel the tears finally swelled back up into his eyes and hopelessly he laid against the side of the round wall. He did his best not to pout, but his heart was in his throat, he had no idea what to do, where to go, what he was doing and what he would do from now on. His eyes were wide in the darkness, his iris trying to adjust to the world around him that was much darker than the cabinet at home or the crawl space under the stairs. A whisper came through the tunnels and made his hair stand on edge. A lump formed in his throat and he pushed off of the tunnel wall to stand in the middle. None of this would have happened if he just wasn’t afraid. He could have planned this out, he could have done this better. His eyes squinted and his body leaned forward to try and see further down the tunnel that led straight. The boy swallowed and his eyes sunk back into his head as a realization stood in front of him.
---
It was in these very sewers that he had first come to Gotham. Where he had realized he was a god and that all things…all choice were determined by fear. It was only the beginning, but it was an important start that drove the rest of his life. The thought eventually cleared from his mind as he began to walk and wobble over boards to cross to another side of the sewage. The chains were not making the job any easier.
Coming to an edge in the sewer he found a nice dead end that would work perfectly for what he needed. It was deep enough in the sewers that no one would hear anyone’s screams. Carefully he began setting up the shackles on the walls and hanging the chains where he needed them to be. The harsh crackle of the chains suddenly stopped as he felt a presence behind him. Upon turning around his eyes met with the scaled beast.
It was no surprise to see him here. The last time they has seen each other they were locked arms in a battle at the asylum. The monster had effectively ruined his chance to bring Agent Tiffany to oblivion, and possibly cost him more than that as he got thrown into Arkham Asylum again. Regardless of all the past between them – Dr. Crane was not stupid; he was in the lizard’s territory.
“Croc…” He spoke in a cold greeting.
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Last Edit: Oct 2, 2012 17:34:40 GMT -5 by croc
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Post by croc on Sept 30, 2012 19:55:03 GMT -5
For a second the crocodile man's eyes wavered, unsure if what he was seeing was in fact actually there. After all, he had not seen Jonathan Crane in a long while and had previously wondered if they ever would again; their last encounter hadn't exactly ended on friendly terms.
In a way Croc was disappointed. He had been hoping that this person had been a minor, a quick and easy kill. Now things had been upset with the unscheduled arrival of Crane. "Jonathan Crane? I didn't expect to find you down here." He relaxed his body posture from its crouched position, realizing that the hunt was off. Maybe not for too long; it depended on Crane's motivations.
What was Jonathan Crane after? Croc could not figure it out. He saw no reason for the man's presence in the sewers, as they were his domain. It was a well-known fact in the city that only those with nowhere else to go dared to venture down into what had become the Minotaur's labyrinth.
In fact, similarly to Minos in the original myth, a few criminal pinheads in the underworld of Gotham City found the sewers their dumping ground of choice. The bodies of the miscreants unfortunate enough to find themselves wronging the mob would never be found after they were let go and the manhole was closed off. It was a near perfect method of ridding themselves of those they wanted gone. Only some skeletal remains would be found on the rare occasion, washed out of sewer outlets around the city. It was an almost untraceable scheme - word of mouth and concrete suspicions was not strong evidence against the mob. Evidence was required, and evidence was something which was sorely lacking from the prosecutors' offices.
Then it was possible that what Jonathan Crane wanted was a place to go. Though it was unlikely. While admitting it to himself left a bad taste in his mouth, Croc could not deny that there was a noticeable difference between the homeless and Crane. He was better off than the city's bums and could afford one of the numerous apartment buildings around the city. To a degree he was even more better off than Croc himself, though he did not care; he no longer wanted to be associated with general society, to the point he even did not fancy being counted among the other human waste in the city.
And so the man's presence remained a mystery in Croc's mind. He could not discern a reason for his being in the sewers, past simple irritation on Croc's behalf. That's when he noticed that for once Jonathan Crane was not completely alone; with him he was brought some equipment: chains, shackles and the like.
Croc smiled vacuously. Crane was planning something, setting up some kind of entrapment for someone. He had no reason to be going after Croc, right? Crane didn't seem too displeased with their latest encounter, past the unease that Croc himself felt. While he didn't look to be expecting it, Crane didn't seem to have completely ruled it out, meaning that he was most likely preparing something for someone else.
Which left yet another question tugging away at Croc's mind: who? Like he'd thought, no one would want to come down into the sewers at their own free will unless they had nowhere else to go, so who was it that Crane targeting here? Surely not one of the homeless. Perhaps it would be someone else from the surface world who should not be roaming around in his domain. That would be irksome to Croc. Crane was overcrowding enough, despite being so scrawny.
Which was yet another reason why it would be incredibly foolish for Crane to go after Croc. No one would tie down the Minotaur in his own labyrinth, despite how the myth had turned out; and especially not someone as physically unimpressive as the man before him now - not even with his fear toxin or Scarebeast persona. The thought was pitiful, to say the least.
He stepped forward a few easy paces as he thought, closing the distance between the two. In a deliberately threatening tone he asserted, "Those shackles better not be for me."
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Oct 15, 2012 17:16:12 GMT -5
Dr. Crane stepped away from the shackles he was pinning against the wall. He may have to adjust a few of them as sewage water was leaking from the walls. He couldn’t have anything flowing over the chains that would cause them to rust. She was going to be under his control, but there was no reason not to have her properly contained down here. In this place, among the rats and the mutant crocodiles she could stay without attracting the attention of the bat family that would try to save her. All in vain, unfortunately.
Slowly he took a few steps forward, adjusting the frames of his glasses and letting his project go for a moment. “Just too blind to see it…” He spoke in a serious monotone toward him. “Aren’t beasts of your type supposed to have superior eyesight?” He jested to him, clearly demeaning him for his looks. The beast deserved it after what he had done even if there was never any agreement between them. He had never even asked him for anything after his shoulder was repaired. No, there was no need to ask him, Dr. Crane had taken what he wanted regardless that day and his payment was a swift hit to the wall with the beast storming out.
Of course he didn’t expect the reptile to attack him here. He should have known better in the first place and just let him be. Dr. Crane was going to keep his distance however, his toxin didn’t work on him and the beast was far larger than him. He had never had good luck with animals or mutations in humans when it came to his toxin. Something in the genetic make- up was able to counter it but in time, he would remedy it. Fear was always more fascinating in humans that any other creature. Human’s had the ability to react upon their fears in several different ways, as animals tend to do the same things over and over. Croc was no exception to any of this, to Dr. Crane he was just another beast.
Croc should have really just moved on instead of prodded his curiosity for what he was doing, there was nothing for him here. But at the mention of the chains the doctor’s cold eyes locked with the reptile’s. Oh…He thought these were for him? No, he had used him already and he had done his part, whether or not he was ever aware of it. Carefully, Dr. Crane lent down and picked up a certain chain that had a large collar at the end of it. At that point he began a slow advance toward Croc. “Are you scared?” He asked with a clearly unstable voice. His mind began to take over anything that he was doing to ask himself the one question that got him in trouble so often. He let the chain dangle from his hand, silently threatening to put it around the beast, he wanted to see the fear in his eyes or send him running away with his tail between his legs.
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Last Edit: Oct 18, 2012 23:59:17 GMT -5 by croc
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Post by croc on Oct 18, 2012 23:58:11 GMT -5
One would have to be a fool to both insult Killer Croc’s appearance and then suggest a more physical conflict – especially someone weighing in at an embarrassing featherweight like Jonathan Crane. If he was imposing a challenge with the shackles then he was a dead man. It was as simple as that.
Killer Croc, matching the movement of Crane, took another step forward and once again shortened the distance between the two of them. At the distance they were at the good doctor would not last for more than a brief moment, given that Killer Croc felt the situation irksome and decided to end him there on the spot. One blow from the behemoth of a man surely would down any “normal” person with grievous injuries, given the correct placement and primal ferocity – neither of which Killer Croc would fall short in, either.
"Do I feel scared? Of course not. What I actually feel like is eating you."
The expression of Killer Croc remained neutral, if tainted with a slight bitter annoyance. He would not be giving anything away to the ex-psychologist; from past experiences he had discovered the level of deviancy and deceit involved in the profession at times. A few of the ones floating around the city were not the ones to become involved with on a mental plain. In any case, it would be up to Jonathan Crane to perceive the threat of his bones becoming the next hard object lodged in-between Killer Croc’s teeth.
It would be interesting to discover if he really was as fearless as he sometimes claimed to be…
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Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow
"and at the end of fear...Oblivion"
Player: Jon ~
Registered On: Feb 15, 2012 20:39:14 GMT -5 ~
Posts: 941
~ Relationship Status: Won't Say I'm In Love
~ Partner: Fear
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Post by Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow on Oct 29, 2012 17:13:22 GMT -5
These walls were as home to him as they were to the lizard before him. Just because he spent less time in them doesn’t mean that they were any less his own. If Croc though he was going to leave on pure intimidation he was mistaken, it would have just been wiser for him to leave him alone. Then they could both go about their way. Though the animal seemed to have a fear of having his home invaded by the Scarecrow, and in this he believed he had every right to be afraid.
He rattled the chains in his hands in hope to raise his anxiety about it. It would be incredibly difficult to get this chain over his neck and hold him as he wished. The Killer Croc was a monster compared to his height and weight. He would never be able to hold him and the beast had shown on multiple occasions how easily he could throw him around when he wanted. Dr. Crane couldn’t deny, holding him like a zoo animal was tempting and it would have been a good test on the chains that he had. The chains had to be able to bear a lot of strength if things were going to go wrong. In fact, just looking at the size of Croc towering over him was enough to believe he needed more.
Eat him? A sinister smile came over his features. Did he really think he could eat him? It was impossible; the thought wasn’t even worth acknowledging. But Croc was in far better condition that the last time they had met civilly like this. This was excluding his encounter with the Scarebeast. Before that he had broken him out of an armored car and tended to a wound on his shoulder that was badly infected. His eyes scanned over the shoulder that he knew was previously hurt. The skin had seemed to heal completely, even with the small bumps and nicks in it that indicated it had been scratched and picked at, at one time.
He should have been scared. Dr. Crane wouldn’t have been very good to eat. He was tall and very thin, it would have mostly been a crunch and un unpleasant muscled taste. He had no fat on him and nothing substantial that would taste good to him. Something told him that it was hardly the point however. Croc just wanted to get rid of him for being in his home, and any bone to crunch on would have probably pleased him, such an animal he was…
“You belong in these..” He held up the chains to him near his face. “You know it..” The doctor jested to him but he knew it would be better to leave the lizard alone. He just couldn’t help himself. “Why don’t we try them out?” He tilted his head as he asked. T was clear he had no fear of the animal, he wasn’t meant to be feared. Man was meant to dominate him.
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