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Police sirens echo in the distance, but the flashing of blue and red is drowned with an ever present, hellish orange glow of casualties. The alleyway would have been a vacant, dead place in any other night, nothing but cracked bricks from the walls of the old buildings around, puddles from the afternoon rain, trash tossed about, falling out of rusty trash cans. A setting that was once used for activities like the ones they do, but now abandoned, decadent, not even good enough for that.
Tonight, there’s the acrid smell of ashes in the air, and intense adrenaline coursing through their veins, and ringing laughter, and— and Moth kicking at a trash can in an angry stupor, sending it flying towards the wall, hitting it with a clang.
“Dammit!”
The laughter dies down into a couple quiet, leftover chuckles from his so-called partners, Firefly turns his head at him, expression unreadable through the suit, and so does Roxy, an eyebrow raising.
“You good, Drury?” She asks. He makes a noise, something like a scoff, a dry laugh, offended. “Guess not.” She concludes and shrugs, laughing some more to herself.
Always not taking anything seriously. Always having fun. Why was she having fun? How could she when they had to resort to hiding in alleyways like this, like they’re a bunch of petty thieves and nothing more?
“You good, Drury?” He repeats back to her, pitching his voice up high in a mocking gesture, enraged like she’d pressed on the worst ego bruise he’d ever gotten — And those were something Drury was very used to. “Did your thrills fry your brain cells or something? How could I be good when tonight ended like this? We couldn’t even bring anything we stole back! How could this be considered anything other than a horrible failure?”
“Uh, but tonight was okay?” Roxy tilts her head, looking genuinely confused at the frustration bubbling up within him. He just gestures wildly, unable to even begin to explain the situation.
Somewhere a mile or two away, something explodes. Firefly stays in quiet blankness, Roxy continues to not understand. Moth feels like the only sane man, but also like he’s about to crawl up the walls with just how pissed off he is at everything right now.
Why doesn’t anything ever go his way?
“Man, what the hell is wrong with you? We got away, right?” Roxy asks, still looking at him like he’s a crazy person. “That means we won. Did you want to get caught or something? I mean, no judgement, I know some people do.”
“This isn’t a joke, Roxy! I’m not here for a quick hit and run deal like you are. I don’t even care about the goods, in fact!” He steps forward, finger pointing straight at her face, voice full of anger and accusation, to which she is unaffected. “I’m here to prove my worth in the Gotham underworld, to make people know who they should be fearing, and for that, I need an actual confrontation with that damn bat!”
But explaining it is useless, of course. And it gets Roxy to look at him like she’s solving math problems in her head, Firefly continuing his silence. Neither of them could ever really understand his situation, which is yet another reason for him to want to tear his own costume apart like a candy bar’s package.
He can’t lose his marbles in front of his two minions, though. Drury takes in a deep breath, tries to will himself into calmness. There’s already a divide between them as there is — They’re not in this for the same reason. Roxy wants adrenaline and Firefly wants… whatever the hell it is he gets from setting things on fire. They don’t get it. No one really does, it’s the burden the bat’s nemesis must carry.
...well, soon to be nemesis. Tonight was supposed to cement that relationship, but they barely got to see the bat, as always. You see, encounters between the two had happened, but they never lasted long enough. Drury thought he might have seen a shadow following them, but seeing a shadow isn’t what will define him, to those washed-up city people, as the true danger they should be fearing.
It just isn’t enough. None of it is, not if people watch news about them — In which they aren’t even mentioned by name — and just feel compelled to sigh and switch it off, oh, looks like tonight was a peaceful one, he’s seen others do it when he was out of his suit, and it drove him up the wall. And criminals who barely deserved it, stupid showmen like that Joker who just blew up whatever and told an unfunny joke or two, got all the attention and that precious fear from the public. It wasn’t fair.
“Tonight wasn’t bad.” Firefly comments, looking away from Drury and going back to admiring the orange glow emanating from the fire he’d caused. “Not bad at all.”
Drury stares at him. Then at the trash can.
He kicks it again. It just clangs against the wall a second time, more loudly, though not even a dent is put on the metal. Roxy snickers and he pretends to not have heard it.
Maybe he should have picked better minions, as in people who could actually aid him in this journey through real understanding. People who actually gave a damn about the intricacies of a rivalry, rather than… than whatever the hell these two are.
“Don’t you look at me like that either!” He says at Roxy. “You have to show some respect for your leader. And if you’re planning to stick around, at least bother to fit our theme!”
“Uhuh, sure, boss.” She says amid a laugh, not taking it seriously again. “That’s not happening, though. Like, what bug name would I even have?”
“That’s for you to figure out, but just…!” He gestures, unable to find the right words again. He ends up having to settle. “Make an effort!”
Hey, who knows, maybe that’s why they keep losing. He’s accepting any explanations at this point.
They got away tonight because Firefly made the place go up in flames, and Roxy is good at thinking on her feet. That’s a scene that keeps repeating, since that fateful day where they first gathered into a trio.
...an encounter that Drury doesn’t remember in a lot of details because, well, he may have been more than a little drunk, which was only natural, by the way, because they were in a bar. He totally wasn’t moping about not having a proper confrontation with Batman again. But even that, something supposed to be a celebration for pulling off a bizarre crime scheme with all those other people from the Gotham underworld he so wanted to be a part of, was sort of bitter, and not just because of how it ended.
It always came down to Batman never looking at him. And he knows how that sounds, yes he does! But it’s not like that, you see. Of course it’s not.
It runs deeper than just wanting his attention, of course, it’s complex. It’s a matter that, even if small-minded people scoffed at the Killer Moth, he still was determined to win! He knew of his potential, his skills, his wit. He could be at the top of the city’s food chain, if the universe just sprinkled in a bit of luck into his plots.
He was misunderstood by the universe itself, plain and simple. Drury knew with certainty that he deserved a real confrontation just as much as the ones who actually got these, look at the plans he puts together! His team! He was worth something.
He would go as far as to say as he deserved his victory more than anyone else he knew. Really, what has Penguin even done in recent times? Or Mad Hatter? What about Riddler? They were just filling their voids with their own gimmicks, business and kid’s stories and stupid puzzles, while Moth has been out there, picking fights and planning heists, setting places on fire and giving cops a real difficult time.
...well, those two last ones may have been Firefly and Roxy’s doing. But the planning was all him! They wouldn’t be anything without him. Besides, the parts of a team were just an extension of their leader, right? They seemed to operate under that sort of assumption, anyway.
(Which Drury was glad for, because if those two ever realized they could do way more damage if the third party of the group wasn’t him — As much as he hates to admit that — they would walk away without a doubt, or, god forbid, maybe even use it against him, turning their former leader into their puppet. Now that would definitely make his career as the Killer Moth go to hell before it even truly started.)
“Hey, man, it’s okay. I’m sure you’ll get what you’re going for one day.” Roxy assures, patting at his shoulder, and he scoffs, but doesn’t really bother pushing her away.
Yeah, he’d get it alright. And once he did, he’d rub it all on everyone’s faces.
His first real confrontation with Batman would strike fear into the hearts of citizens and criminals alike, he swears to himself, fists clenching. It didn’t happen tonight, but the next one would surely have to work out. All he needed to do was try a little harder.
He sighs and leans against the wall, watching the fire too. Yes, it would shake up the entire city for days. He’d come in with his minions, blazes glowing in bright hellish orange all around them. Would that happen during one of their heists? Maybe he’d set up a trap, plot everything specifically to lure the bat in.
And they’d lock eyes when he reached the eye of the conflict’s hurricane, Moth standing at the very center, showcasing how he was the one to get Firefly to build this scenario. Roxy would be the distraction, keeping the lesser enemies with their hands full, and in the middle of the inferno, would be just the two of them, the Killer Moth and the Batman.
Finally.
Wouldn’t that be the grandiosity he deserves? Plus if he managed to pull something like that off, to make Batman come to him — Knowing he was only human, Drury would get to see him struggle with the fire, the fire that he ordered to be placed where it was, and he’d breathe harshly as he had to make his way to him, weakened. Now, Batman is the moth, and he is the flame.
He’d still try to charge at him, gritting his teeth through the pain of every moment, and Drury would avoid each blow narrowly, swiftly, perfectly. He would charge back, his strength multiplied, he’d land a hit of his own on him, revel in the noise of the impact, the way his body is pushed back with it, breath knocked out of his lungs.
The very thought of the scenario feels like it feeds him, gives him a feeling like adrenaline that he hadn’t gotten even from fleeing from the cops tonight. Maybe the rush of victory feels different from the one of running away with your tail between your legs, he muses.
(It’s also a sort of rush to lose, even though it’s humiliating, even though Batman barely spares him a glance when he shoves him aside and sends him fleeing, but— Nevermind. That doesn’t matter. Who said that, even? Drury sure didn’t.)
“Killer Moth, I should have suspected this is one of your deeds—” The Batman in his mind starts but stops in a coughing fit, weakened. His name coming easily to mind, spot secured as one of the biggest terrors plaguing the city. His one true enemy.
He would grin, high off the power that courses through his veins like its very own hormone, pumping into every receptor of his body, making him soar.
“Oh, you absolutely should have. Who else could it have been?” He says in that maddened expression, watching as he falls apart at the seams string by string, and he takes steps closer, his enemy’s face gaining definition in his eyes. “You’ve dug your own grave here.”
He wanted to see shock on that once stone-like face, to be the one to be able to do such feat, brand it into Batman’s mind that no one was as powerful as him, Killer Moth.
“I’m showing the world, you, what happens when it overlooks someone like me.”
Ah, he can almost imagine every detail on his expression, even through that mask, isn’t it something so wonderful to think about? He wanted to see him fall to his knees at one point, unable to breathe, but still making an effort to try and fight him, turning all of his attention towards the one he might have previously scoffed at too—
A jittery feeling takes over him, in real life. He looks around to see orange glow, though not as intensely as in the image his brain had conjured up. Roxy is looking at him with a raised brow.
“Uh, you just made a really weird face now.” She snickers.
“Shut up.” He huffs, arms crossing. “I’m thinking about our next move. You wouldn’t get it.”
“Sure I wouldn’t.” Roxy shrugs, then takes a step back to stretch, arms up to the night sky. “Well, just tell me when we gotta hit the road! I don’t think the cops are gonna find us here, at least not for a bit.”
“It’s a good resting place.” Firefly says in a bit of a mutter, still staring intently at the ashes that had begun to fly in the air.
...it’s really a completely normal way to frame your enemy, you know. Especially if your goal is one like Drury’s, surely it’s only natural he’d think of him this way, the thought of stepping towards him, steadily crumbling, more exhilarating than any petty fight he’d gotten into during his time as the Killer Moth.
He’d claim what was rightfully his, strip him away from this pedestal, grabbing white-knuckled at the title of supremacy in Gotham’s underworld. And he’d be looking down on Batman as the flames consumed the world around them, marking the hellish end of an era, declaring his victory as he takes his detested’s chin into his face, forces him to see how he’s crowned himself king just now, and, and—
And he’s tugged unceremoniously away from his position.
He’s about to make a noise of protest before he notices it’s Roxy, that she’d started running, that Firefly had too, that sirens blared in the background.
Dammit.
“They’re here, c’mon!” Roxy says, hurried and hushed, but there’s that lilt of amusement there too.
“Hey, wait—!” He swears, trying to follow the two of them but tripping on his feet as he speeds up. “Didn’t you hear the sirens coming? You should’ve warned me!”
“She tried, but you were too busy staring off into space.” Firefly supplements. “Let’s just go now.”
“Yup, hurry! You don’t wanna get caught, do you?”
Drury spares one last look at the alleyway, gritting his teeth.
This is the last time he’s ending up in a situation like this. Really, it is! Everything would be different later, he would make it, or so help him.
It’s just that today just wasn’t his lucky day.