"Shi—"
Scarecrow plummeted between two buildings, his head ricocheting off pipes with sickening clangs—left, right, left—as he tumbled down the narrow shaft.
Above, the enforcer he'd dragged went flying in another direction, landing with a thud on the rooftop.
Scarecrow, meanwhile, was accelerating.
Fear toxin surged through his body, building pressure in his lungs like a shaken bottle.
Boom!
He slammed into the alley floor, bonescrunching on impact.
And in that instant—he burst.
The impact triggered a violent burst of yellowgas, a cloud of fear toxin erupting from his body like a bomb.
It spread instantly—flooding the alley, curling between buildings, spilling into the open streets like a living fog.
On the ground level, nearby enforcers heard the crash. They turned, saw the plume rising—and froze.
Panic kicked in.
"Unknown gas! Move in—get people out now!"
They rushed toward the scene, shouting for civilians to evacuate as the toxic cloud began to consume the block.
————————————-
High above, in the Council tower, Heimerdinger stood at the window, his small hands gripping the ledge as he stared down.
He could see the gas. The chaos. The fear.
And he remembered Scarecrow's words: Soon, I'll disappear. Work from the sidelines—quietly. As I was meant to.
His brows furrowed.
"Oh my," Heimerdinger whispered, eyes wide. "He did it."
Behind him, a voice: "Who did what?"
Mel Medarda stepped into view, heels quiet against the marble floor. She folded her arms, watching him curiously.
"If you don't mind me asking," she added.
Heimerdinger pointed out the window without turning.
"To him," he said. "The one behind that gas."
Mel squinted, her eyes narrowing as she saw the smoke and the crowds scattering.
"What the—?" Her voice caught.
BAM!
Both she and Heimerdinger turned sharply.
The chamber doors burst open. Grayson stormed in, out of breath.
"Scarecrow!" she shouted. "He escaped!"
Her eyes locked on Heimerdinger as she said it.
Mel turned her head slowly toward him. "Scarecrow… the one who caused the hospital tragedy?"
Heimerdinger didn't flinch. "Our people's lives take priority. Help them," he said firmly to Grayson.
She gave a quick nod and rushed back out.
Heimerdinger turned to Mel. "Yes. It was him who caused it."
Mel arched an eyebrow, arms folding. "You told us he was in a cell for questioning. Anything interesting about him?"
Heimerdinger nodded grimly. "He wants people to talk about him. To remember him. There's a high chance he's from Bilgewater."
"Bilgewater…" Mel repeated under her breath, eyes narrowing slightly.
Heimerdinger turned back to the window, watching the yellow gas spread like veins across the city blocks.
Then, without a word, he began walking toward the exit.
Mel called after him, "Where are you going?"
"To help," he replied. "And to understand a future threat."
And then he was gone.
—————————
Crane was changing clothes.
"Hope I'm not late," he muttered, adjusting his collar—more to himself than anyone else. "I mean… we didn't specify the time, so technically, I can't be late. Right?"
He glanced to the side, staring directly at a cracked undercity wall.
"Walls can't talk," he reminded himself.
"Money talks."
Satisfied with the logic, he shifted his body—skin flushing red again, features snapping back to their original shape. His true face.
He stepped out of the alley and caught his reflection in a puddle.
"Hmm." He tilted his head. "I look… like me. Me is good."
Then he tried to fix his hair.
Instead, he somehow made it worse. Messier. A little wild.
He squinted at his reflection again. "Perfect."
Crane wandered through the undercity streets, eventually making his way toward the Last Drop. On the way, something caught his eye: Jericho's.
I like food, he thought. People like food.
He nodded, convinced.
Crane took a seat at the counter and tapped twice. "Big man Jericho, I would like six kebabs."
Jericho turned, looked him over, then just stared.
Crane blinked, confused—then widened his eyes in realization. "Oh. Right."
He reached into his pocket and slapped the money down.
"Moneytalks," he grinned.
Jericho looked down, gave a small nod, and smiled back.
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Now holding five kebabs—he already ate one—Crane made his way toward the Last Drop.
He paused outside the door, took a breath, and stepped in.
The room buzzed with noise: groups of drunk patrons, people making shady deals, others laughing too loudly.
Crane didn't pay them any mind. He walked straight forward.
Behind the counter, Vander was serving drinks.
Crane slipped onto a barstool like he belonged there.
"It's good to see you again… here's a kebab," Crane said, holding one out. "Take one. Don't be greedy."
Vander took it but didn't eat. He looked Crane over.
"I've heard a lot more about you since we last met."
Crane gave a cautious nod. "Oh, uh… you mean the—"
"The kiss," Vander said, brow furrowing in an attempt to intimidate. "I've heard what you and my daughter shared."
Crane blinked, then raised an eyebrow. "If this is intimidation, just know—your daughter already does that."
Vander's furrow faded. He smiled.
"Doesn't surprise me."
He took a bite of the kebab.
His eyes lit up slightly. "Jericho's. Good choice." He chewed thoughtfully, then looked back at Crane.
Crane smiled. "Yeah. Now, could you tell me where Vi and the others are? I'd love to chat more—but I don't want the food to go cold."
Vander pointed to his left. "They're down there. Now go—I've got a bar to run."
Crane gave a small nod. "Fair enough."
He turned and made his way downstairs, the kebabs still warm in his hands.
Reaching the bottom, he paused at the door, adjusted his grip, and opened it.
————————-
As the door creaked open, four heads turned.
Powder was sitting on her bed, sketching something on the metal frame with a piece of chalk. Vi stood nearby, arms crossed, watching Powder's progress.
Claggor was slouched in a chair, flipping through a book. Mylo sat in another chair, bored out of his mind.
They all looked up at once.
"Yo," Jonathan said, holding out both hands. "Kebabs, anyone?"
Mylo shot up instantly. "Finally! Something's happening."
He snatched one and took a massive bite. "Jonathan, you have just cured me."
Jonathan blinked. "Oh. Uh… glad to help."
Powder and Claggor came over, each grabbing a kebab with a quick "Thanks," before digging in.
Vi hadn't moved. She just stared at him, surprised—maybe more than surprised.
Jonathan offered the last kebab toward her with a sheepish smile. "Uh, kebab?"
Vi nodded and took it—but didn't eat.
"So… did you talk with Vander?" she asked, voice casual, but not really.
Jonathan nodded. "Yeah. I mean, not for long. But—uh—the kiss came up."
Vi's eyes widened. "You told him?!"
"What? No! I thought you did!" Jonathan looked genuinely confused.
Vi turned to Powder.
Claggor muttered, "Busted."
"I had to tell someone!" Powder blurted, still chewing. "It was big news!"
Vi sighed and rolled her eyes. "It's fine."
She looked back at Jonathan, then down at her kebab—the last one.
A slight blush touched her cheeks.
"You wanna share with me?" she asked, lifting the kebab up between them.
Jonathan shook his head, glancing away. "Nah. I'm full. Already ate on the way here."
Vi scrunched her face and took a dramatic bite out of it. "Your loss."
Jonathan looked back up at her, saw the blush on her cheek, the sparkle in her eye.
"…Actually," he said slowly, "yeah. Let's share."
Vi furrowed her brow, the same way Vander did. "But you said you were full."
Jonathan shrugged. "Well… looking at you made me un-full."
Vi raised an eyebrow. "Good. Now take a bite."
She held out the kebab, firm like it was a command.
He leaned in and took a bite.
Then Vi took a bite right after—smiling as she chewed.
From across the room, Mylo groaned.
"And this is why I don't want a relationship."
"Too much sharing," he added, turning to Claggor and Powder. "Relationships aren't for me."
"You're only saying that," Claggor said without looking up from his book, "because you know you won't have a chance with a woman in the future. And when we bring it up, you'll pretend it was your choice."
Mylo coughed, clearly caught. "What the—how—no way, I—"
"You just got read like a book," Powder said, giggling.
Jonathan smiled around another bite of kebab.
Vi elbowed him lightly. "You enjoying this?"
He nodded. "The kebab's good too."
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