Work Text:
Imadi Williams trudged toward her shop’s back entrance, cursing summer. Sweat gleamed on her dark brow as she fumbled for her keys. Gotham’s July heat was unbearable, even in the mornings. Her face suddenly twisted into disgust as she got closer to her door and caught a whiff of the air. It was thick with the sickly smell of rot.
She eased the shop door open and crept inside. The stench pervaded her small tailor’s store but there was no source.
She called John Anthony. His store, Anthony Fabrics, was the neighboring shop. Maybe he knew what to do. He did not answer.
A feeling of nausea was rising in her now but so was an inkling of something awful. For days now, John’s clients had been coming into her shop asking why he was closed.
Imadi pushed back through her door and walked over to Anthony Fabrics next door. She stood staring at the door in dread before finally knocking. Nothing.
Holding her breath, she gently turned the knob and the door gave way. In the dim light she could see John hanging from a pipe in the ceiling; his body bloated, green, and rotting.
#
In the deep hollow of the Batcave, Bruce examined the blood-stained burlap cloth from which Mr. Anthony had been found hanging. Burlap usually signaled Scarecrow but he had to be sure. The Batcomputer was running the samples and verifying it against the GCPD database.
At first glance the GCPD were quick to say it was self-inflicted. But evidence mounted that Mr. Anthony showed no signs of depression and left no note. The state of the workroom also gave rise to suspicions of foul play. His books showed that business was good. His girlfriend had been out of town at the time and was not suspected.
The GCPD and Batman knew that Mr. Anthony was running a double business. Selling fabrics to hobbyists and professional sewists by day. But by night, he made the costumes of Gotham’s worst criminals who had no ability to craft themselves. Working with such clientele gave him a long list of possible enemies.
The computer lit up and chimed signaling the results were ready.
“Read the results to me.” Bruce said, staying by the examination table where the burlap was laid.
“Blood Sample A: John Anthony; Skin Sample A: John Anthony; Skin Sample B: Jonathan Crane; Hair Sample A: Jonathan Crane” The computer continued reading a list of the various findings, it’s feminine voice echoing off the cave walls.
“Computer, do we know the location of Jonathan Crane at this time?” Bruce already knew the answer.
“Jonathan Crane is currently in cell 10 in block A in the Patient wing of Arkham Asylum.” The computer answered.
He had been there for the past month actually. This was the point the police reached before they stalled and other cases took over. Bruce needed to pay a visit to Arkham first.
#
The screams of those gone mad filled Batman’s ears. With some patients, they would yell or taunt when they first caught sight of him. Though others screeched in terror and backed away, praying he was merely a demon of their nightmares and nothing more.
He was led swiftly by the orderlies to a room where Crane sat alone on a bolted stool in front of a table. He was looking down, almost as if asleep.
“Professor, the Batman is here to see you.” One of the orderlies said loudly. “We’ll be just outside in case you need us.”
Both Scarecrow and Batman knew they could break everything in the room and the orderlies wouldn’t dare come back through the door until Batman walked out alone.
“Good evening.” Crane said, polite as always.
Batman didn’t bother with pleasantries and instead threw the burlap cloth down onto the table. “It is part of your costume. Why was John Anthony found hanging by it?” he growled.
“I guess I’ll have to get material somewhere else.” Crane said, picking up the cloth to look at it. “I’ve been here since the end of June. How should I know what happened?”
Batman’s eyes narrowed.
“I don’t even know how he got the full costume. I can sew. I only got fabric from him.” Scarecrow said, growing small as Batman suddenly moved around the table behind him.
Batman grabbed a clump of Scarecrow’s red hair and jerked his head back at a painful angle while jamming his knee into his back forcing Crane’s ribcage to make uncomfortable contact with the table edge. The table, being bolted to the floor, rattled but didn’t budge.
“I‘m telling the truth! I heard he died from the news in the common room. I didn't have anything to do with it!” Scarecrow hissed through gritted teeth.
Batman took another moment and then let go. He grabbed the burlap and stormed out of the room, leaving the former professor to realign his spine.
#
Batman ducked under the police tape behind Anthony Fabrics and opened the door. The back room was still in much the same condition it was found in that day and the smell of death still lingered in the air. John Anthony was a chaotic worker. There were cuts of fabric and sewing tools strewn haphazardly about the room. Batman saw his rogues in lifeless muslin mock-ups and crumpled costumes in various stages of completion.
He moved to examine a green coat bearing black question marks that lay on the floor. There were small tears and a giant stain on the lining. He knew the Riddler would never stand for that; he was too concerned about his appearance for it to be on purpose. As he took the coat an idea started to form.
A toxicological examination had not been performed on John Anthony. His state of decomposition was advanced and the method of execution seemingly too obvious.
“Your samples, sir.” Alfred had painstakingly taken apart the Riddler’s coat at the seams.
Batman pulled back his hood and then carefully laid the coat pieces on the computerized examination table and took samples from the stain and tears. After a while the computer displayed the results.
“Specimen A: Human Gastric Acid ...
Trace Elements - ... Aconitum Root …”
“Wolf’s bane! He was poisoned, sir!” Alfred looked over to Batman.
Batman kept his blue eyes fixed on the computer’s screen. “A deadly plant. This is Ivy. But it’s sloppy work. It isn’t like her to divert attention from herself like this. She always has a message. Something isn’t right.”
“Computer, what was the last date and known location of Pamela Isley?” Bruce asked.
“Friday May 15, 2020. Escaped from Arkham Asylum.” The computer answered.
#
It was in the middle of August when Bruce attended a gala hosted by the House of Nox, a Gotham-based luxury fashion brand. He had previously decided to come up with some excuse not to attend, but a look at John Anthony’s records told him it was wiser to be there.
Bruce didn’t have to do much pretending when it came to looking bored. The event was standard and somewhat mind-numbing. That was until he was introduced to the heir to the Nox fortune, Jameson Nox.
Jameson Nox was a short, wispy man with terracotta skin and nervous brown eyes. Beside him was a tall, skinny red-headed woman that Bruce immediately recognized. She had tried to change some of her features but he saw through her. It was Ivy.
Bruce kept an eye on them as the evening continued but near the end he realized he had lost them in the crowd. It was then that a scream broke out from the other side of the ballroom. Jameson Nox had been found dead under a table.
Immediately the windows overlooking Gotham city began to crack as thick vines wrapped around the building and the ballroom doors slammed open making way for a flood of giant and deadly plants. Screams echoed throughout the room as those trapped tried in vain to find a way out.
During the distraction of the others finding Nox dead, Bruce had managed to slip out of the ballroom. Batman returned in his place moments later.
“Are you really going to protect these so-called innocent people, Batman?” Poison Ivy’s voice came from everywhere simultaneously.
Batman did not waste time replying.
“Do you realize how much the fashion industry pollutes our planet?!” A flurry of vines attacked him. As he jumped out of the way, a single, spiky vine caught his foot and jerked him upward toward the ceiling several stories overhead.
A large red blossom came through a broken window and unfurled, revealing Ivy. She had her plants pull him closer to her.
“Nox was your original target.” Batman said, fighting back other vines.
“Of course! Anthony was supposed to make tonight’s gown. He promised it would be gentle on the environment.” She growled. “Do you know what he gave me?! ...POLYESTER! It’s basically plastic, Batman! Do you even- AHH!” Ivy screamed as a batarang slashed across her face.
Batman had managed to reach his belt while she ranted and cut himself loose. He grabbed his grappling hook and swung over to the other side of the room, throwing exploding batarangs and keeping track of where the civilians were.
Ivy screamed in fury as her plants were torn apart in flames.
A few of the beams overhead were cracked and crushed during her entrance. Batman locked his grappling hook to one and pulled it down on her.
“Yo- You don’t understand…” The plants slowly began to recede and wilt as she fell out of consciousness.
Batman stood still as the police came in.
“What is it?” Jim said, looking down at Ivy.
Batman shook his head and walked away.