Fear is... (Jonathan)

[Deleted]

Since the meeting with Oswald, Lex was feeling guilty and depressed. Heading back to Metropolis he once again went over details- big and small – in the hopes that he wouldn’t fail twice. After recovering from a sort of anger attack, the information involving Crane began to make sense, rather than the information about Edward. The man was obsessed with fear. Fear is a weakness that all beings have, it is a psychological object that affects all the senses. Power is gained through fear and despair. Fear is a virus capable of destroying systems of mass importance such as government, to complicated psyches known in the human body. Lex was no psychologist, but the key was there.

If fear was malleable, it could be manipulated and turned towards the right direction. Everything was ready for a meeting with Jonathan, the question being where? Wtih a slight pause he takes out his cellphone and dials a number answering, "Mercy, Let's go on a drive"

The bumpy drive around Gotham, only reminded Lex that Gotham was dirt, brick, and blood. However all nations were built like this- and its a fact that he's constantly reminded of. Lex is careful not to say anything important to Mercy other than "Drive along the outskirts" Jonathan would likely be in a safehouse or a homeless shelter; the insane are everywhere.

Looking out of the window, he sees a small child and a women walking together to a rusty playground. Thinking back to his childhood, he remembered quite vividly those trips. His mother would take him to the store and buy two chocolate milks, then they would head to the playground and talk and tell stories. His father working late into the evening, his mother having time since she was looking for new work.

In those times he really did rely on his mother; she was a strong woman an independent woman. Mercy, who was driving, looked to her rearview mirror and abruptly stopped the car. Lex jolted forward as the seatbelt tightly strained for safety. Lex, in an alerted state, strikingly asked, "Mercy what's the problem?"

It had been a few days since she got used to Gotham, she had been there countless times before, but every trip took time to sink into. Gotham was no Japan nor Berlin; it was desolate and dreary. Mercy saw out of the corner of her eye, a dark shape confined on the ground near a sewer drain. Afraid to hit it and more afraid to just pass by it, she had to stop. Analyze the situation, breathe deeply, protect Luthor, and get through the obstacle. The car slowly moved a few inches forward and her eyes began to widen in shock. A hint of uncertaintly and delight quivered in her low alto voice, " Lex that's Crane"

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane lay a silent broken man, half on the sidewalk and half on the street heading into town. He had registered that it was all over but it had only been a few hours since he was dumped off. For the moment all he could do was mull over what was happening to his body at this moment and what had happened to him over the course of the past few hours. How long had it been? Two or Three hours since he was thrown out of the car and onto the street. Dr. Crane hadn’t moved an inch since he was placed here, they could have come back and got him for another round if they wished.

He had failed in that whole half of the plan he had set up. Everything had just come to shambles in a moment as Penguin ripped VerMillion from him. Though he couldn’t confirm if she was dead or alive at that moment, he knew that they would have killed her in front of him if that was their true goal. No, He believed VerMillion was alive somewhere and The Penguin was holding her captive or torturing her to talk. The Penguin would soon come to find after all that he did not obtain the Scarebeast in the raid and he would be coming back for it. That really meant he had to move somewhere….Before he found out. There was always the option that he may question VerMillion about it first, but if she wouldn’t talk he would come back for him.

What was he going to do? How was he going to get her back? Considering his elaborate plan with Edward he didn’t ‘need’ VerMillion to do the job but it was going to make it far easier. The job was almost turning out to be about even with work either way. Still he was going to persist, since he couldn’t die, he couldn’t lay here forever. It would be impossible for him to just stride into The Iceberg and demand VerMillion back, not this soon and not after all of that had just happened. This time….He may need to use someone.

The thoughts rolling over in his head only fueled a depression that was setting in. This was something he would never let anyone see from him, but face down in the gutter it would have been difficult to determine. He could feel the heat from the day still rising off the pavement and resting to his face as it rose. He was already drenched in sweat from head to toe just from the pure exhaustion of what The Penguin had done to him.

Dr. Crane hadn’t moved a muscle in the few hours it had been since he dropped off. His movement was complete stone, and if people were to walk by they would have probably thought he was dead. It was quite the opposite. Dr. Crane was very much alive, just very injured. A shadow was cast on the ground at the level of his vision, like the sun had come up but the shadow was far too dark and appeared much too quickly for that. Noise actually started to feed into his ears, he was sure the left one wasn’t picking anything up. Possibly clogged with blood from how hard he had been struck. That whole side of his face would be black and blue by morning. The noise was the sound of crackling pavement underneath tires, someone was trying to get by.

His head pulled up from the gutter slowly and his iced eyes were blinded by the headlights. He squinted and immediately went to shield himself from it, but let out a cry instead as his body reminded him that arm was broken. Using his good arm Dr. Crane finally attempted to get to his feet. Someone was stopping for him? He just wanted them to go away, if they needed to get passed him they had plenty of room to go around him and continue on. He stood in front of the vehicle for a moment, light blazing into his eyes. The doctor stood there, hunched over, his clothes were ripped and tattered from his collar to the hem of his slacks. There were parts of his body that were exposed and not exposed where you could tell he was bleeding badly. His distal part of his lower arm was clearly dislodged and was threatening to press out of his skin, there would be no doubt it was broke. His good arm came around himself to coddle his rib cage as it too had been injured, leaving him with a possible few broken ribs. The doctors face hadn’t turned and darker colors yet, but it had swollen in parts and showed that he had been beaten without mercy. Over all it looked like someone had taken a baseball bat to his body repeatedly.

A slow limp was all it took to get out of the street and onto the pavement. Getting over the gutter felt like an eternity, but it only took him a moment to step passed the pain. The doctor was aiming for a wall that was still facing the street, he could let these people pass and the world could leave him alone. Carefully, the doctor found a spot on the wall and leaned up against it, letting his head press back against the brick.

[Deleted]

Lex presses his face inward only slightly as he stares at the person in front of the limo. Mercy’s matter of fact observation seems impossible. A man- if you can call him that- with blood and broken bones standing in front of a limo, is a doctor world renowned for is excellence and obsession with fear and toxins? His unbuckling of the seat belt and creaky noise from the leather seats, gives Mercy ample time to listen even more intently for instruction. “Follow him”, Lex says before stepping out of the limo. Mercy nods and the car moves forward, making a sharp left and stopping a block away. He watches the limo drive away, and then glances to a badly injured Crane. So this is how they meet? Lex didn’t mind that he had to go all this way to find Crane. He expected to find him in the outskirts – but the fact that Crane was so…bruised and battered made him cringe. He wonders about Crane’s plan; toxin that turns people into monsters. Cobblepot must have been involved in the finances –a deal that would probably come back to haunt Crane. The plan he has in mind completely overshadows monsters and toxins. He also didn’t seem to care how Crane was injured or why; it simply wasn’t important. Crane was a very expensive tool, the deal is priceless and so rewarding to reject. Though the question of how he will respond is innumerable –actually it probably isn’t. Crane will most likely respond cryptically and protectively. He played the situation out in his mind. Each step on the sidewalk was a step closer to the confrontation. He wasn’t worrying, so much as his anxious nerves were getting the best of him. He took a relaxing sigh as he stepped near the wall, looking directly at Crane.

“Jonathan Crane… I didn’t expect to find you in such excruciating pain, instead I imagined you being dressed in some sort of comfort clothes; a more polished image.” said Lex who’s brown eyes pierced and fixated on the decaying Crane. Lex hadn’t seen many people in conditions like this before. Mercy had done a wide range of things with the people blocking him. It was rational to make the argument that people committed horrible, imaginable things on each other to get into better positions. Lex was wearing an Armani suit, black polished dress shoes, and a red tie with green outlines; green representing money and red representing blood.

Glancing to the left, he added in a direct tone,“ I admire you work, which is one of the reasons why we are meeting. Your work is artistic and creative, but above all its special. My name is Lex Luthor, billionaire and CEO of Lexcorp, the fastest growing business in security, technological, biological, and electronic innovation and research. From creating better weapons to curing cancers to solving Worldwide debt and poverty issues; In two years we’ll surpass IBM.” He shifted his weight to the wall, now a few feet next to Crane. It was too early to foresee how this would go, a push and pull progression was inevitable to proceed. Before he was about to speak, his cellphone was buzzing, it was Mercy. Barely putting forth any real effort into answering, pressed off; Lex cleared his throat and continued in a gravitating tone, his baritone voice, “But I’m not offering you a job” Lex chuckled and said, “I’m offering you an opportunity to do something that is more important you your current plan and one more rewarding.”


Crane had to be depressed now, his options were clear. Listen and accept the deal, or die off. Every organism’s main goal; accept and survive or struggle and die. He prided himself on his genius level of instinct and intelligence. He was very curious about Crane’s reaction, stepping inward and whispering, “ I’ll give you Batman.”


Mercy was feeling particularly cold and annoyed as she parked the limo. This was the third time in Gotham that Lex had taken matters into his own hand and completely disregarded her protection. She liked Luthor, he was a generous boss who took great use of her advanced knowledge and abilities. Her focus and concentration was unmatched in Lexcorp. Hell even the people who worked there went out of their way to not associate nor even come into contact with her and staring at her incredible physical body would ask for a direct kick to the chest.

However, one of the things that continue to boggle her mind is when Lex’s ego expands to the point where her position becomes “Chauffer of Mr. Luthor”. She mumbles to herself, “Why the hell do I do this…” She knew why she does it. She loves it, but Mercy is quick to reaffirm that she doesn’t do it for the money nor for the fine dining –even though the food is exquisitely good – Mercy can’t help but feel empty. Now, she has never nor will ever be an open, sensitive, and caring woman. This mental conversation has been going on since Japan. She glances at her left mirror and see’s no one coming. It wouldn’t be such a bad thing if she talked to Lex, personally. Except that talking personal issues, is unprofessional. One of the many policies of Lex Luthor is, “If it’s personal, I don’t want to be hear it.” When Mercy was first hired, the policy was easy to abide by, she too didn’t care for personal issues; it’s not in the job description. Yet now things are changing.

The deals are personal, the issues are frequently personal, and her concerns are rationally personal. The deal with Crane was important; however he didn’t tell her why he needed to see Crane- that was unusual considering she was his muscle, eyes and ears. Aside from Lex, she was the most dangerous person capable of reducing him to nothing. Taking her phone out of her pocket, she calls Lex. It rings and rings, she thinks “Stay focused, be direct but don’t throw everything down at once, think of a reason for Lex to come back for a few minutes. "It was time to present her view for once. The connection was severed, once Lex hanged up on her. She sighed and with perfect delivery replied, “Not the first time that douche has done that to me."

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane’s breathing was bated and heavy, he clearly needed medical attention. Medical attention from someone rather than himself would never happen. He would never allow someone else to work on him, especially when he was perfectly capable of doing so himself. Right now, he had very little time to assess just how bad the damage was on his body and if he would be able to repair it by himself. All he felt like doing at the moment though was lay down in the gutter in peace. Whoever that was wouldn’t even let him do that. Now he was forced to the side of the street against the wall.

The doctor head was dipped, the shimmer of his glasses couldn’t be seen, in fact he had no idea where they were. It was unfortunate that happened so much. He must have lost them somewhere between the car crash and Penguin. Thankfully he didn’t really need them to see. Things that were ten feet or more away just became slightly blurry. As a result the car was only slightly out of focus. As was the person that he had caught out of his peripherals stepping out of the vehicle.

Dr. Crane’s head hung heavily toward the ground he stared at. It was dipped forward but his back was pressed against the wall. Bloodstained strands of hair, soaked from the sweat that the heat from the pavement had generated, covered the dark spiral that his eyes had become lost in. The asylum has once stated that the man looked like he was literally looking into another world, and into another world he was. It was his world, the only true one that existed. The hallowed glacial eyes of the doctor rose slowly as the blurry figure approached him. His body slid down slightly on the wall. The weight of his upper body becoming too much for his legs, they wavered, but he balanced himself and caught the wall with one hand. The other stayed in front, it was terribly swollen and looked as if it had been broken in several places.

He recognized the man immediately, of course he did being in his line of work. He had never met the man in person, but he had read plenty about him in the paper. It was a man that he couldn’t see as a threat to him personally, but rarely did he ever. In his unfortunate state he would have rather Mr. Luthor not seen him this way. A god that was buckled over barely breathing and left lifeless on the street. This was probably the most broken anyone had ever gotten to see him, aside from the Joker that had stabbed him deeply into the rib cage and pulled up until it sliced to a bone. As Luthor got closer the doctor didn’t move but he his iced eyes locked with his to watch his movements. The gesture was threatening as his body was not the only thing that looked unstable at the moment.

Yet the man was being so cautious in his approach. He nearly crawled along the wall himself just to get closer. With each slow movement he could taste the anxiety, that even though the God was broken and bleeding, battered against a wall, people still had a reason to fear him….and fear him they did. Mr. Luthor had every reason to be acting the way he was, he had every reason to fear The Scarecrow. “I know who you are…” A rasped whisper was aimed toward him while he was still talking. He didn’t care much for interrupting because that not how he intended it to come out. It was low and barely audible over Luthor’s voice alone, but he had made it clear that he knew who he was and what he stood for with it.

The cold and unstable demeanor of the doctor didn’t change as Luthor progressed in his advance. What could be more rewarding? Though his outer exterior stayed the same his mind began to wonder exactly what he was talking about, and his statement to follow confirmed his thoughts. How did he know about his plans?....This man didn’t know anything. He thought he knew what he was seeing, however he had seen it, but he would never understand. He would never be able to comprehend what was going on around him. No, the man that crept the wall beside him thought he knew what was in front of him, but could only see a small portion of the grand picture that took the frame.

Finally Luthor got so close he could touch him if he wanted with little effort on either of their parts. If he was wise he would keep his hands to himself. Besides getting close enough for Dr. Crane to jump him, the man had already exhibited some sign of intelligence just from the way he had approached him, very humble and very cautious. Aside from the comment of his current attire and his health he had remained respectful, in which he could toss the comment aside. Rarely did he care for the opinion of others on the way he looked. He simply heard it too much. His head leant back to the wall but kept turned toward him His eyes never left Luthor’s Iris, they bore passed his as if he could see through him into his thoughts. It would be questionable whether the doctor had blinked since they made eye contact.

His chest rose taking a deep, yet shaken inhale through his broken ribs. His eyes never lost contact with Luthors but they weren’t wide and focused as they normally were when he had someone with him. The doctors eyes were tired, he looked exhausted. Yet he never made a move to act upon his exhaustion. Dr. Crane licked his cracked lips, the blood from earlier still stained his teeth as he pursed out a dark whisper. “The Batman..”. His interest was mild at best but not for reasons one would think.

Rolling his head slightly, a rumble came from his chest. A hopeless laughter rang from it weakly, wincing with a sharp pain that came to his left side. It was a rare sight to see, a genuine laugh from Dr. Crane. “What would I…Want the Batman for?” He asked knowing full well why he would want the Batman. There would only be one reason and one reason alone, it wouldn’t be the folly of the others in his field that only wanted him for glory and to bring down what he stood for. No, the Scarecrow wanted to know what made that Batman who he was, not his name, not his face…What fear made the man?

As for just being handed the Batman, especially in his current state didn’t sound like a good deal, he was going to have to do much better than that. His interest was there, but he wasn’t going to let Luthor onto that, as someone he just got through talking to would say, ‘it’s just good business’. “What do you want?” The doctor finally asked coldly in response, knowing there would be a catch to whatever he had in mind.

[Deleted]

Luthor remains intently interested and prideful as he made his introduction and proposal. However, the immature, almost inaudible response of the bruised and battered skeleton man startled Lex only for half a second. It was like a skeleton slowly succumbing to death, spitting in the face of the god, offering life again. His slightly pauses and continues his detailed introduction – the annoyance could wait- He continued hearing the man’s exhaustible breathe every time he finished a sentence; he wasn’t giving a lousy speech, but a riveting one. The manners of the man were appalling. Business packages come in all sizes, some with a depth of schizophrenic inmate. Crane was not in a position to say no, declining would stop all and any progress that Lex wished to have. Progress that would sustain both parties. Lex slightly refocuses onto the issue, when Crane pulls an odd reaction: Laughing. He says nothing, he suspects nothing initially, simply because his deal is being mocked and shamed. Granted that his introduction was filled with dramatic tone, he put enough resonance and seriousness into it, that would make “ordinary” people react differently. Lex understands that neither Crane nor he is in plain terms, “ordinary”; the truth was immensely far from that conclusion. As Crane speaks his mind, Lex easily counterattacks.

Lex had been in the game for a long time… To be trivial at this hour, meant he had gotten Crane’s attention. Lex thought the comment more entertaining than Crane’s laugh,“Well that’s really up to you Dr. Crane. A better question would be, “Why do I need the Batman?” And once again you could provide the answer wholeheartedly. However, If I may, I’ll describe exactly why you need him very articulately. The Batman, unlike many heroes, is motivated completely differently than others. He fights villains, criminals, and thugs on personal terms. Stooping to their levels, mind games, etc in order to effectively block them from gaining the goals that they so desperately want.” Pausing, then continuing, “Yet you are a different animal, with different motivations. A former doctor specializing in Phobias, you need to know what makes him do what he does. What fear impacts the decisions he makes, and more importantly how you can use that fear – that interesting method to further torment and understand him like no one else.” He’d liked to say this to all criminals that he encountered – except that most weren’t worth his time. He shifts his weight next to Crane, but with slight distance. “Your not unlike, Edward Nigma, Cobblepot, or the others. However, your mind and record is filled with more details and thesis’s that up until now... Outshined the others. You don’t want to kill him or torture him. You want to understand him, or better yet his fear. Our demons demolish and influence us from within.” He can predict with relative outcome that his message hit it’s target. His technique was perfect, his emotions and logic connected.

The air around him is filthy and dirty, which is why he coughs briefly. His system hasn’t had a cold in many months. Getting one now, especially in Gotham, would take weeks to cure. Bad enough that the city was in need of a cure far more than Lex would be… but Lex deleted the thought with ease; if he could wipe Gotham off the map he would, but the plan would be tiresome with so many details. Mercy would have to kill hundreds of people; LexCorp would have to produce chemicals and weapons… It wasn’t practical. His thoughts shift to why Mercy abruptly called him, especially so early in the meeting. Mercy was good at everything, from killing to hacking banks, to creating effective diagrams and hacking into government agencies. But that doesn’t explain why she called him. His eyebrows shrug, finally relaxing, while he blows his nose with a handkerchief. He should call her back, it could be serious, but Crane’s interjection before he can dial the number stops him from going down that path. Lex, licking his lips, slowly responds, “Nothing. I don’t require a service of yours, a loan, a payment of any kind. I do hope you remember this transaction though.” He sighs, fully-knowing that this meeting has entered it’s second phase, as well as the fact that he truly was being benevolent. People in Gotham had a reputation of not trusting or believing in anyone, which was a good method to put to practice. Though that practice seemed to block needed deals. “Trust no one, but befriend everyone” was a signature motto that Lex’s mother told him.


A perplexed and stunned Mercy awakes from her nap after the car alarm goes off. She usually doesn’t take naps on the job, but when you don’t get enough sleep due to working, and after your boss blatantly brushes you off like dust, you have a logical reason to. Rubbing her head, she checks everything twice, saying vibrantly with a hint of sarcasm. “You can never be sure all the time”. Seems time has gotten away from her as she yawns to herself. She ignores her initial idea of calling him one more time –she puts this out of her mind- and instead steps out of the limo. Mercy looks at the sky then to the limo. “God I hate this limo.” Mercy says after thinking about it; though to be frank, she doesn’t need to think about anything. She isn’t one to think about every detail, she does what she is told and uses the best option to get the reward. It’s very simple, yet she sits down on the sidewalk, knowing that there its somewhat more complex then she makes it out to be. She already knows that Lex needs her, and she knows that she is an integral part to his plans –most of them- yet; her emotional response has control at this point. As her monologue continues to spew, footsteps are heard right around the corner. A tired and curious Mercy quickly stands up and looks to her left, seeing a man running from a group of about six others. She can’t fully see what they are carrying, due to one of the sun’s rays, obstructing her vision. Getting back into the awful limo, she sternly and forcefully says, “There’s no point in me sitting her, whining about my “dull” life”. She purses her lips and continues,“However, I do like to play.” Her smile is one of new action and the idea of putting her skills to the test. She drives the car down the alleyway, visibly seeing the last guy run. “The hunters are about to become the hunted.”

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

It was Mr. Luthor that was tampering with the temperament of a god. He was fear incarnate, the arbiter of terror, the master of horror. Nothing he could do would ever make him able to defeat him. He was breathing now; even after all he had been through. His breath was ridged and each inhale felt like sharp knives were scraping up the sides of his chest. The knives were probably not far from the truth if his ribs were broken, and he was sure that they were. Just a wrong movement could make them puncture into a vital organ, he needed to get to a table where he could operate on himself. But right now he was occupied with unwanted company.

There was a skeleton that lay against the wall staring back at Mr. Luthor. His skin, or what was left of the battered and bruised organ was littered with several lacerations, exposing that the god did in fact bleed. There wasn’t much meat in between the skin and the bone, especially on his arms. It was clear that the doctor didn’t eat very often, and yet his chest was hard and he was still very agile. He kept going regardless of his frail appearance, and he was anything but the meaning of the word. No, The skeleton before him feared no oblivion, he couldn’t die.

Mr. Luthor had an Ace somewhere in this, he could hear it in the soft pauses in his voice. It was at that single moment that he became captivated with a better question. Much better than the one that he was posing to him. His eyes seemed to be looking passed Luthor now, peering into another world. His mind was simply somewhere else, somewhere far from where he once was. His eyes were looking into another world entirely, one that surrounded the only question in the world that mattered. The world seemed to just fade away from them as his mind went over the concept and his reservations about the Batman himself.

Batman was a fallacy to this world. He was an illusion to what the people of Gotham called hope. Dr. Crane was the first to lock hands with the Batman and although his attempt at overthrowing him failed, he saw just who he was inside. Not even the mask could hide who he really was, even if his name was undisclosed and his identity kept a secret. Dr. Crane could see the truth behind who every man was as long as they were able to express fear….and what is human without it? What is anything? Batman was nothing to him, nothing but another fearful man and quite an annoying one at that. If he was to get his hands on him it would be only to prove the truth to him once and for all.

Dr. Crane’s body had slumped forward slightly away from the wall. His knee had bent back and foot had pushed forward as if his body really wanted to sit. It wasn’t hard to tell that the man was exhausted from the wailing that The Penguin had done to him. His body was tired and it was ready to give out at any moment. But Dr. Crane was a stubborn man and if there was anything he held on most tightly to it was his consciousness. With his eyes so brilliantly locked into this other world it was easy to assume that he just might lose any state of being in this world at any moment. Suddenly his eyes jumped back to life at the mention of Edward Nigma. His Iris brightened and quickly became cold again as it locked with Mr. Luthor’s.

He couldn’t deny that there were similarities and differences between Edward and him. They were close but entirely opposite of each other. They had similar goals for the world but done in entirely different ways. Through truthful eyes they were polar opposites, with a common past. This past would be known by no one but them however and anyone else Edward had already chosen to share it with. None had seen it quite as clearly as he had. Though he would never admit it, especially to this man there was little Dr. Crane enjoyed more than that moment. As for being compared to him, that was unacceptable, Dr. Crane was a God.

Mr. Luthor had his attention at this moment and was keeping it well. How long he would be able to keep his attention would determine upon what he said next. When the words, “Nothing in return” processed through his mind he almost smiled. Did he really believe him to be so trusting or so foolish? How many times he had ran across this exact scenario? Or done it himself entirely? “A Gift?” The doctor asked blankly, dropping any emotion from his face. There was a certain heaviness in his voice. He must have expected him to be a skeptic of his intentions at first. Why would Lex Luthor take all this time just to come out and find him and give him a gift like this? He had a hidden purpose and Dr. Crane was going to find out what it was.

Dr. Crane leaned toward him further, sliding against the wall. “Tell me….more…of what..you want…” He spoke showing a great interest behind his voice this time though it was mused through a slight hiss coming through his teeth. His body was still pushing to the side, toward Mr. Luthor. His words were followed by an uncomfortable crack that echoed throughout the empty street. The doctor cried out but stifled it the moment it left his lips. He was in no condition to talk here but he didn’t care. Any reason for cooperating with him would be solely to answer that ‘one’ question, and he always had that exterior motive in mind….But right now, in his condition….What choice did he had but to comply?

[Deleted]

Dr. Crane’s raspy voice was an attribute that was very interesting and very… annoying to say the least. However, Lex abruptly shifts in his approach when Crane loudly cries out in pain. It was as if some dark and pitied individual was stabbed through the heart. Lex’s defensive mechanisms take place as he moves away ever so slightly, still listening but being cautious. In times like these, Mercy would be right next to Lex, insisting that they get in the car. But Mercy was in the limo and Lex was without his knight. After a few tense pauses begins thinking. Dr. Crane’s raspy response prior to his “noise” is played back over and over again. The doctor was an interesting figure, with different rhythms to the way he phrased things, and a different psychology than Lex’s that –offered a misguided, paranoid, and fear-worshipping view.

When Crane asks to know more about Lex’s interests, Lex’s face resembles stone. He doesn’t move away –already knowing that moving away would lead Crane to think that he didn’t have an answer, that he wasn’t “prepared”. Lex looks rather cool with a hint of restlessness, though he responds lightly saying, “ Dr. Crane, what I want is for you to accept the deal and take interest in the fact that you have the perfect opportunity to deal with Batman, no strings attached.” He pauses, looking downward and steps closer to Crane, noting that the cracks in the pavement could be symbolic of the meeting, and continues “Though my curiosity in the matter would strictly be, for lack of a better word – observational.” Clearing his mind, he slides to the left of Crane, mentally sighing and remaining determined to get the deal done.

The tension in the air seemed to be rising, due to the physics of the responses from both parties; offer, block, explanation, block. “Dr. Crane you have every right to be cautious and protective, but is it logical to not accept a prize, that internally you have a manipulative interest in, but on the surface you show none of it, simply because you don’t want a change in perception?” A small amount of stress and uneasiness leaves Lex. He had been feeling particularly warm this day, which was strange. Actually, Lex uncomfortably realizes a truth that he won’t readily admit, especially for someone of his status: He had shown vulnerability. Lex Luthor didn’t shown vulnerability, so why did he now? The subconscious part of his mind, knew the answer, but it intended to let the conscious part linger on.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane seemed as if he had plenty of time after accepting this type of deal to figure out exactly what a plan around it would be. He never understood why Professionals continued to try and make deals with him, it never made any sense. They just continued to make the same mistakes over and over, idiocy and to no purpose or higher meaning at that. There were very few, if any deals that the doctor made with others that didn’t either go completely his way or didn’t happen at all. The always backfired on the user, and often on himself, but he had a reason. No deals ever went good with the master of fear…the barely breathing corpse in front of Mr. Luthor was proof enough of that.

He sucked in a cool breath of air to try and ease the pain from the crack of his body. He needed to set these bones the first moment he could, it almost seemed as if some where barely hanging on. When Luthor changed positions he watched him carefully, moving his head to accommodate for each movement, even if each took all his energy. The proposal was given with care of course, it was apparent he may have had some idea of who he was dealing with, but he was still a fool.

Still this could have been beneficial for both of them…or at least him if done right. The doctor took another deep breath and swallowed hard, trying to find the strength to speak. The world around him was becoming tunnels and he had to start working fast to get himself medical attention. Slowly his hand shifted from the wall and slid into his jacket. “I’ll accept your offer; under certain conditions that will be met my way…I will have him my way.” He spoke seriously, pausing to cringe with pain that reminded him he needed to wrap this up. His fingers laced around nothing, an empty pouch that lay nearly torn in his tattered clothes. The Penguin’s men had taken every drop of toxin from him, he’d have to make more if Luthor wanted it…but he knew what he was really after.

Dr. Crane would need more resources to make more toxin if Mr. Luthor wanted a steady supply of that as well. He had several barrels of the ingredients he needed, thankfully stashed away throughout the city, things that Penguin would never find. There were things he lacked however. A sufficient lab to work in, although he never needed very much, would help greatly in production. If Luthor wanted quality he would have to provide him with one, but if he wanted a demonstration…of the whispers of the Monster that he knew had flown around since the asylum….

“I can give you a demonstration” Dr. Crane spoke without saying it’s name, he believed if Luthor wanted it he would acknowledge that he knew what he was talking about. “If you can get me to a medical lab.”

[Deleted]

As the doctor spoke, Luthor intenttly waited, which was cordial and respectful allowing every ounce of his answer to strike him. Luthor mentally noted that the deal was going well, but that Crane would never trust him. He kept that in mind when he looked at Crane, his brown and dark hazel eyes jetting at the broken doctor. If he was the living embodiment of fear, he also had immense reason and justification. Fear had a weakness, possibly the absence of fear but in more practical terms: the courage of fear. However powerful one may be, the weaknesses inevitably hurt them in the long wrong. With a scuttle of his feet he wonders if such a perfect individual exists; the only example worth measuring would be Lex. Lex fit the statement like a glove.

The counterexample would be that he failed in getting rid of the obstacles that so often stopped his plans from working.. .and the cost for that was dearly. Luthor smiles and somehow empathizes with the broken doctor. Lex had also been broken by Superman time and time again. However, he learned from his mistakes; He was sure that the doctor did as well. Listening but hardly nodding his head, Lex quickly interjected, “You will have him your way, but there are another set of conditions that must also be met in order to ensure that this plan can be executed with the highest precision.” Lex feeling a lump in his throat, coughed slightly. The cough wasn’t too loud but it could have given Crane the signal that Lex was also injured… He didn’t want to be sick.

Crane’s offer of a demonstration sparked a further interest in a conversation that was dying before. His eyes lit up, his chin protruded and his million dollar smile couldn’t help but show itself. A demonstration? It wasn’t that he doubted the doctor – he didn’t. Maybe it was the fact that Crane for the majority of the deal was being protective and silent. Yet now he wanted to give some kind of demonstration to probably test his powers of fear. Lex’s silence in the matter was due to his recollection of events. Oswald told him bits and pieces of the ingredients in the Toxin and it’s real purpose. But aside from those minor details he wasn’t entirely sure if this demonstration would be effective. He looks at Crane with a sense of mystery and curiosity, for he did hear rumors of a strange and evil type of monster.

Rumors had no real value, but for eighty percent of the lie, about twenty percent had some real value. As he is about to talk, Lex’s face droops and his gaze becomes one of melancholy as a powerful gust of wind slashes at him. His thoughts trail to his mother and how she often took him to the park when he was young. The park and the streets glinted with glass and Jack Daniel’s whiskey bottles as they do now. The air is suffocating, intently focused on killing any form of life. While the breeze comes in to nestle its kin and subdue the heroin smoke that tainted the alleys, and taunted windows. Speaking idly and quietly at once, "You'll have a medical lab -but the demonstration shall be tonight." Depending on how Crane takes that will tell Lex all he needs. He takes out his cell phone, texting Mercy to pick them up.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Trust….Trust was a word that didn’t exist in the doctor’s mind. It was a false perception of one’s dependence or reliance on another. He never needed such things, and he knew the falsity that lay behind the concept. Trust was a made up word so that people could fall victim to another’s desires. Putting some kind of faith in a farce of a reality where you didn’t have to be afraid of what another would do, but it was a lie. The truth was much more than that. Trust was just a word that needed to be buried and tossed away with the others that covered the truth.

Dr. Crane seemed indifferent to his interjection, not caring one way or another if he approved or not of his conditions. Once the doctor had the Batman he would do what he wanted with him. Of course he didn’t have to release that kind of information to Mr. Luthor, but he should have known better. It all goes back to that little illusion of trust, such a falsity it was through and through. As Dr. Crane couldn’t trust and would never trust Mr. Luthor, he shouldn’t ever attempt to trust him. To do so would be his own undoing, and for many it was. Even the Penguin had cut his losses, even if it ended with Dr. Crane being put in this situation.

The cough caught the doctor attention however, being attuned to any medical abnormalities. It wasn’t a cough that something simply went down the wrong way or something in the air caught his throat. The cough itself was horse like there was already something wrong with him before they met. His eyes turned colder toward the man, there was defiantly something more to this than good will, and the two things could have possibly been related. He would find out soon enough he was certain, on his own time or on Luthor’s. Although it could have been simply nothing, a human illness that one got from the worldly surroundings, he would log it as a possibility for now and remember the exact way that it happened.

He could see the want flood into the others eyes at the mention of a demonstration. It wasn’t what Dr. Crane wanted but perhaps if done on his terms it would be worth it in the end, especially to be to a lab of his own where he could be back in his element. It would be much easier to stand up to Luthor then, when he could stand on his own two feet without the support of the wall. Then he would be able to show Mr. Luthor the power of the beast that he had probably only heard whispers of. The rumors of roars within the asylum the night of the FBI raid.

Dr. Crane paused in his already shaken movement and became quite still. He searched the others eyes , his own flooding with a darkness that came from being taken advantage of. “Quite demanding..” The doctor breathed softly to the air. It was a high demand to someone that was bearly standing as it is. Where did he get the idea that he could demand him of anything? But the doctor wasn’t a fool. He was in no condition to protest, even though a demonstration without medical care could possibly render him even worse than he was. “……So be it.” He finally agreed with a nod and let his head fall back to the brick as he dialed for a possible ride. The doctor swallowed hard and stared up at the night sky, not able to keep a brilliant focus as he normally could. His vision was already hazing, but he could do this one task…He could do this one task…

Anything at any price.

[Deleted]

Luthor was silent and his heartbeat began to pulse faster and faster. He had the upperhand currently.. but would it last? He paused mentally remembering how these deals usually go. He hadn't lost a deal in sometime, but he remembered the bitter feeling of losing. He hated losing more than he liked winning. To be defeated was to be destroyed to be destroyed was to be forgotten and to be forgotten was to be useless. Lex wasn't useless and neither were his plans. He turned to Crane with curious and perusing eyes and asked, "Would you like to take a ride?"

While his attention was on Crane, he was truly thinking about Mercy. Mercy was the best at her job and it was unusual for her to call. You could say that the relationship between Lex and Mercy was uninteresting- and Lex being the benevolent, loving and powerful boss that he was, wanted to keep it that way. The outside world was a cut-throat world. Every move is analyzed, bludgeoned or worse... ignored. Shifting his tie to the right, signaled that this meeting was coming to a close - and an odd one at that. Never in Lex's life had he met with someone so bruised, battered and shackled. Crane was a perfect - no,.. The perfect example of how Social Darwinism played out. He is sinister and brilliant, but weak. Weak in the way that he views others and doesn't see the ploys and traps. He internalizes it or throws it out. Remembering his enemies and trusting no one. Ordinarily, Lex would agree and shake hands. But two facts stuck with him. First, Crane wasn't ordinary or complex - he just "was". Secondly, business as Lex knew it was changing rapidly. Having a conservative mindset helped, but one must also have a liberal-free way of thinking of improving.


The car came to a stealthy halt and Mercy’s eyes began picking up every location; every signal, every possible entry. She was searching for the men. She heard a yell and looked to the left. The men were savagely beating the other man who had glasses. It was six on one; the odds were heavily against him. Stepping out of her car she breathed in, just as her confidence surged to full power. This would be easy and good practice. Approaching the men slowly, custom-hand gun in her holster. She spoke loudly and vibrantly, “Hey assholes. Get off the man”. She flashed a destructive smirk as the men turned around, now taking out pipes and assault rifles.

She imagined Lex smiling at her and giving her a vacation, maybe even a double-raise in salary. She made more than most people working at LexCorp, why not give her what she deserved.

“The man isn’t worth anything… you’d have more luck robbing an accountant than robbing.. a scientist.” Said Mercy in a low husk. The man had an ID bag on him, she couldn’t read his name, but she was positive he worked as a scientist or an engineer. The bleeding man looked up at Mercy, thankful and fearful at the same time. The leader of the gang was dressed poorly and carried a lead pipe in one hand and an assault rifle in the other.

“Who the hell are you?” he yelled defensively with a high pitch pop. She didn’t respond immediately because that statement had been yelled or asked about her about forty thousand different times. Of those cases about forty percent of the people asking her were targets who were swiftly taken out. No trace, no evidence, no nothing.

Professionally dealing with the rich and arrogant people who were enemies or portentially enemies of her employer, Lex. She daringly stared at all of them, using the same stare she had seen Lex use countless times before. It was one of his signature weapons, only now it had a new master; herself. She began walking closer to the men, but still about forty feet away. It was getting dark out and the dark breeze was a signal that a thunderstorm was coming. She didn’t know much about the location she was in, but she knew that the boarded houses and smashed windows were a sign of poverty and violence.

If the fight erupted, the police would be here quick, considering that the outskirts of Gotham were a one way ticket to the jail cell. She taunted him again, “You guys are pathetic –no in fact your worse than pathetic. You have no chance of getting anywhere in the criminal world if you think you can beat up scientists. Hell everybody does that.” The man turned around, face visibly red and started shooting at her as his other men began firing as well . The excitement drove Mercy... to unusual heights. The fight - eh.. bloodbath that ensued resulted in six people dying-- including the man being chased after. Collateral damage always presents itself says Lex Luthor. However she didn't feel like thinking about him. She wasn't a waiter, she was an employee who worked hours on end, risking her life for crazy missions. But the smile on her face was evident of her darkside, the one that was never expressed only hinted at.

The police sirens shootout from all angles. The way back to the limo was short and quick.. if only she hadn't tripped over a table. The snapping motion dislocated her knee as she began to cry out only to silence herself. This wasn't professional, she was better than that. She entered the limo - limping all the way- only to look in the side-view mirror to see that her arm was bleeding. She looked around in the car for a towel. "Guns, computers, tasers, matches, posion and tires... And we don't have any towels?" said a disgruntled Mercy. Sighing only made the pain worse. A loud and vibrating noise emoted from the car. Could it be...? She mentally remembered having her phone with her, she put it down after calling Lex. Glancing around to make sure no one was coming, she opened the door with much pain to her arm and leg. Grabbing the cellphone, her tone was polite and assertive at the same time. It was Lex!! She nodded and ended the call. She turned on the car about to drive when she realized something. If Lex saw her.. she would be fired. She remembered. "Maybe those acting skills will come in handy."

The ride to where Lex was was fast, but it began raining right when she arrived. Lex would be in for a surprise or she would be out on the streets with a bullet in her head.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

Dr. Crane, in his current state knew that he was in a lower position. Mr. Luthor had the physical standing over him this time as in another setting and another time he wouldn’t. Dr. Crane was far more limber than him and he was confident that he could come up against him in any situation, but would rather avoid it. Mr. Luthor was simply a waste of his time unless he had something to offer. In this case he had ran into a wrong place wrong time situation….and it was the wrong time. He had no interest in the Batman and whatever scheme Mr. Luthor was concocting. Dr. Crane already had all the answers except…except…The one he couldn’t refuse.

Perhaps it would have been more refuseable if he was in a better state. But now he was being taken advantage of and his demands were getting higher. It was something he was simply going to have to deal with for the moment. So with the man’s question he didn’t answer. It was more of a rhetorical question regardless. If he was going to have to show him tonight there was no doubt of where he had to be and it was in the car. The man insulted his intelligence…

His eye contact never faltered from Mr. Luthor’s, even after he had refused to answer him. There was a deep nothingness behind his stare with only a slight hint of the fatigue that came from hours of torture having just ended. But he could take more, he was impossible to break for he was no mere man. Dr. Crane was a God. A god stood before Mr. Luthor, leaning against the wall and peering into his frightened soul, because he may have been trying to cover his fears with his logic and his paper….but he couldn’t hide from him and he could never escape fear.

Even as the car pulled up near them the doctor refused to take his stare off of Mr. Luthor. In fact he backed up to the car door and let his injured hand pull the latch open. A hiss came through his teeth when the pain shot through his senses but he quickly covered it by dipping himself into the car. Having done it in handcuffs so many times, getting into a car without the use of his hands was becoming second nature. After he pulled his feet in he got comfortable in his seat. Dr. Crane’s head leaned to the window, only breaking his gaze from Luthor as he moved out of sight for a moment. The cooler window felt good on his forehead, a reminder that he could still feel to a certain extent, not the idea he’d want to give off to Mr. Luthor.

It was his idea to keep most of the Professional Criminals in the dark about what his true motives were. Many of them talked and many of them had theories of their own. Dr. Crane had heard many of them whispered among one another and throughout the asylum. It was always interesting to see them try to rationally work out their own fear of him through making it into something it wasn’t. It would be impossible for any of them to truly understand, but he had already come to this conclusion a long time ago and Mr. Luthor was no exception to the rule.

There was a woman in the car with them, his chauffer perhaps, but he paid her no mind. His focus was on breathing and trying not to make a positively broken rib hit something important. His breaths were calculated and low because of this. Mr. Luthor got into the car and he observed him only once before looking deeper into his own thoughts. “Private” Was the only word he said and Mr. Luthor could take it as he wished.

[Deleted]

Pain and suffering seems not to impact Luthor much. A plea or a cry for help falls on deaf ears in matters dealing with a god. It seems to be a double-bladed sword in a way, probably due to the fact that most people need some of it to get what they want – yet in the end they receive far more than they originally intended. He had lived a life of pain and suffering, he had lived a life of nothingness. The lessons he was taught at a young age instilled in him a powerful sense of responsibility and durability. He cared nor did he want to care about other people’s problems. However it can’t be ignored that time presented situations that forced him to give slightly more than he anticipated. If hindsight is 20/20, then foresight is 1/20th. For Lex the stats were higher but even then, it would be impossible to fully predict change in routines and business partners. And while he understands this thought, it pains him to truly accept it. One may understand and see potential in an idea or investment, but the actually risk of accepting it may cost one everything. Business for the most part was slow and crude. Lex had carved and killed his way to the top. His reign of power was only just beginning and he would need Crane to prove to the world why he was supreme.

His confidence is at medium level at the moment of entering the car. Sitting down in the lush chair actually makes Luthor smile- a reaction he rarely shows. It’s a symbol of comfort, no.. a type of transition from one playing field to the next. The tenseness that he feels makes his arm ache slightly. He hadn’t envisioned this meeting to take a long time and he’s sure Crane didn’t either. But then again Crane didn’t envision meeting with Luthor at all. He quick to mentally add that Crane’s quietness throughout most of the meeting is annoying. But he senses that Crane’s feelings in this matter are layered in such a way that his present emotion is one that exonerates a sense of helplessness. It’s different from Lex’s.. it’s fearful.

Mercy’s steady and gradual speed indicates her professionalism as well as her understanding that Lex loathes rides. Lex understands Mercy well and vice-versa, which is why they seem to have some type of telepathic link. Although telepathy is quite rare in the science field, the possibility that their thinking is “psychic” is largely disproven through years of socio-economic data. People who know and work with each other every day for years have similar ways of thinking. The data is enlightening because it re-affirms ideas that Lex has had. This data reinforces the ideals of social Darwinism and work habits, but they also relate to the versatility or adaptability of the mind. His attention now drifts to the stillness in the car. The limousine isn’t compact or rough, rather its smooth making the trip anywhere relaxing. Contrary to an idea that popped into his vast mind, Lex knows that he must once again facilitate Crane in order for him to talk. Crane was vastly weak and judging from his interesting and unusual report he is a quite man. A man obsessed with fear that he doesn’t care to talk or look at another people due to his own complex , narcisstic personality that believes it is the embodiment of fear. Crane’s reponse to getting in the car was shallow; a warrant for examining the statement certainly should be made later.

Before speaking, he pauses before turning on the heat. Feeling only slightly chilly, he decides that the heat will provide another layer of offense as he derives answers from the skeleton sitting across from him. The change in tactics is abrupt but it is calculated to some degree. Knowing that Crane is sick and disgusted in this car, brings Lex to another introduction. “ Why did you decide that Cobblepot was the best rogue to make a deal with?” says Lex who has some thoughs on the matter but decides not to barrage, instead his eyes turn to the creatures’ shoulders offering a kindly, perceptive gaze at the man’s shoulders. The shoulders were balance, strength, and intelligence. Dr.Crane’s inward position and the subsequent clinginess to the corner of the door, catches t Lex’s keen dark-brown eyes. He didn’t smirk, instead licking his lips to reply to a different topic. He quietly adds with vigor, “Your convictions didn’t serve you well in that scenario or any others. Were you alone in your experiments or did you have test subjects?” Lex’s eyes dart forward now, he takes out of his pocket a cigar and lights it, the car bumps slightly as the horrendous pavement known in Gotham takes its toll on the fancy limo.

[Jonathan Crane - Scarecrow]

To Mr. Luthor it must have seemed as if he struck gold tonight, a very lucky man to run across The Scarecrow lying in the middle of the street. But he couldn’t understand how foolish he was, thinking he was in control. For the moment he might have been, but how long he would be was yet to be determined. Dr. Crane simply didn’t plan like that, he let things happen with a goal in mind and as long as he was continuously moving toward that goal it didn’t matter what happened in the middle. This left a huge amount of error margin for things to go wrong, in fact the doctor counted on things to go wrong. This is why so many other rouges failed in their plans, they planned far too tightly and one mishap throws everything off. Dr. Crane had learned to plan loosely and he came out victorious for it in his eyes. From the moment that he had agreed to go through with this to Mr. Luthor he had formulated a goal, how he got to it was yet to be determined and it would work perfectly that way.

Dr. Crane was hurt, badly, and every breath he took was a reminder of it. Even as Mr. Luthor stepped into the car and seemingly ignored his request he showed it but putting his head to the window the moment it came to reach. The coolness of the window felt good against his sweltering head which probably had remains of blood from the brutal beating he had taken. There had been so many shocks to his chest that night he was sure he would have burns for weeks. Dr. Crane stared into his own reflection through the glass and saw that his eyes were somewhat swelled and his nose was bloody. It was not very professional in front of another Profession Criminal ‘near’ his caliber. His breath hit the window and caused small circles of condensation to form each time. He was exhausted…and yet…despite his despise for speaking in the car Mr. Luthor insisted.

His icy glacial eyes, now worn and emanated a dark hue from within finally turned to him without any movement to lift his head at first. He looked as if he was a man possessed by a darker force than himself, it brought a blackness into his eyes that one would only see in a being that was from the shadows itself. His body laid lifeless against the door, with a stillness that had been proclaimed in every psychiatric magazine published about him and every report in the asylum. Dr. Crane stared at him, letting his first question pass by without an interjector to stop him from asking the second. Even after he was done speaking it took several seconds for him to finally turn his head to lock eyes with him. He kept his relaxed posture against the door, one that would convince many that he lacked a heartbeat in his chest.

“Mr. Luthor…I don’t think you understand…But how can I expect you to” He answered him darkly not owing him an explanation to anything he had asked. Giving him all the information on his project that he had conducted with Mr. Cobblepot’s funding wasn’t part of the deal for him to come with him, only that he would show it to him. Everything else that Mr. Luthor had offered him had been “A gift”. The man had already known far more than he should have, but Dr. Crane had anticipated that news would get around, the fear spread like wildfire around Gotham and always came out in the end so much bigger than it was, such was the beauty of it. Slowly his corpse came up from the corner and his elbows slid on his skinny knees to press forward to him. He came as close as he could, invading into Mr. Luthor’s space, though careful not to hurt his own rib. “Everything I do serves me well..” A whispers left his lips directed at him, far more cryptic than it possibly seemed on the surface, but he didn’t expect him to catch that either…The man was a fool to even get in the same car with him. Dr. Crane didn't move back after speaking, he kept his glacial glare toward him and his space suffocated, showing his conviction in the statement and searching his eyes for something he desired most.

[Deleted]

In times such as these, one must remind themselves that progress is painfully slow. It’s exactly that as he listens to Crane speak in phrases, he does what he normally does when conversation is going nowhere- he drinks some alcohol, breathes out, and re-thinks his plan. As a man of business, he felt obligated to construct beneficial deals. These deals bring good fortune and then bad results or they bring bad fortune and good results. Everything was changing so fast, he seemed to get caught up in the change in corporations and laws, etc. The sip of alcohol keeps his nerves from getting remotely dangerous.

The heat is turned up due to the incessant cold snap that has awakened Gotham. He understands that Crane will not be easy to crack, no professional criminal ever is. But he is smart in not showing his extreme side, it would destroy the deal and break a relationship that hasn’t even truly begun. A popping doubt entered his complex mind… it is possible or more so that Crane doesn’t care to begin with. If he truly was “fear incarnate” why did he show no interest?

It doesn’t boggle Lex, but the fact that he has talked in phrases instead of succinct thoughts…Mystifies him. Cryptic messages that expose Crane’s hostility to anyone he works with as well as projecting a kind of non-responding emotion. Crane was an entirely new challenge, one that Lex was extremely interested in; but that interest is sending the wrong message to Crane. It’s not sending a message. Crane was similar to Lex. He was talented and resourceful, but he made mistakes. If fear is coherent in all of us, why does he express his fear through simple phrases? These thoughts pick up and die down as the limo races to the key area where the next level of business arrives. Lex breathes quietly without pause or worry.

Perhaps it was Crane’s way of doing business, he as the corpse of Gotham left to die, feels it insignificant to deal with a god such as Lex. If two gods can be in the same vehicle, can the balance of power change or does it negate each other? He offers the corpse a small glass of water hoping that the dead being would drink to replenish his system. If water was the drink of the gods, then another god would find the elixir perfect.

A sharp sting reminds him that he bruised his leg upon entering the limo. Mercy uncharacteristically sped off without even giving Lex a nod or a tap on the arm. As his heart began beating slightly faster, it was time to continue a monotone conversation as they’re destination approached. “Jon, why are we in this business? We lie, make deals that we have no intention of keeping, steal, kill, blackmail, bribe, and assault and enact plans that grow and then fade away. Its cycle, like the stock market, that is analyzed yet never changed. It is uncharacteristic of “fear” to be in a position of death. You enjoy death, you empathize- you become death at times. If it is all a rebirth, why don’t we do something else?” Pausing to take two more sips of his alcohol. “If I were in your position I wouldn’t accept this deal, there is another way of surviving of continuing with your life. Life is about fear, fear of dying of losing wealth and status- of being forgotten or of losing your children or loved one. We are both fear.” He shifts his weight trying to assume a formal-slightly informal tone.

The limo comes to a gradual halt. Mercy with a bright blue-green umbrella opens Lex’s iron-fisted door. The air was cold and comforting, a perfect way to enter level two. The concrete, brick wall had a black and gold sign labeled, “Ronnie’s Table shop”. The shop is wide; it is dark, which is why Mercy turns on a flashlight. As they head down the stairs, a smell of dead fish and meat arises. The fact that Lex turns around to see how Crane is, is the first red flag. Lex continues and beam on the flashlight gets hazier and hazier.