Chapter Text
Fear. Beautiful, delicious fear.
Ignored by so many. But not by Scarecrow.
No, the Scarecrow knew its power well. The primal feeling that evolved to be something so much more complex than just a way to survive.
The lanky figure waded through the gas that filled the police station, watching officers writhe and scream on the floor, or try to run from or fight off whatever they were seeing.
“Let’s see…” She grabbed a clipboard from a desk, flipping over the report to the blank side of the paper and using the pen to note down what he saw. “Officer… what’s your name? Ah, Jones. Itching, screaming… ah, bugs. Classic.”
“GET THEM OFF! GET THEM OFF ME, THEY’RE EVERYWHERE!”
“Bullock… hm. Frozen, not what I expected… fascinating.”
The man built like a brick was pressed against the wall, staring just past Scarecrow with wide, terrified eyes. Oh, it was intoxicating.
“Pity Gordon isn’t here. After last time, I would love to poke at his brain…”
“Scarecrow!” Riddler shouted from outside. “We gotta go! Bats incoming!”
“Dammit.” Scarecrow grumbled. “Idiotic Bat, never letting me do my research in peace. Stupid-”
They kicked over a crying officer from their chair and went to hop into Riddler’s car. Painted bright fucking green with purple question marks, because everyone in this city was a master of subtlety.
“Get going, tell some of your guys to make a big enough distraction somewhere else so I can actually get some fucking work done.”
“Can’t you get volunteers like a normal person?” Riddler joked, in a way that he clearly knew the answer was “no, I’m not normal and neither are you, fucko”. He pulled out of the hole in the wall they’d made in the GCPD and drove off, turning on his radio. “Ladies, gents, and everyone in-between, we’ll need a distraction near the Police Department on Bleake Island, please and thank you!”
Riddler swerved between cars while Scarecrow continued to write, managing to keep their handwriting legible while muttering to themselves.
“Could be acarophobia specifically… with the itching. Yes, common sensory fear. Ailurophobia, yes, that one seemed to have it to some degree, wouldn’t stop muttering about not wanting to be scratched and ‘fuzzy little demons’.”
“Pfft- since ‘ailuro’ is Greek for cat, I’m assuming-?”
“Fear of cats, yes.” Scarecrow pointed his pencil at Riddler as they made a sudden turn. “And that one curled in a ball, claustrophobia, most likely. Curling up as if the room was closing in.”
“Don’t you ever get bored of this?”
“Never. Now, hurry up, will you?”
“Work to be done, yeah, yeah.” Riddler waved her off a bit. “Keep your straw hat on.”
“Bitch.”
“You love me, buddy.”
“That’s reserved for my girlfriend.”
“Not like that, dummy-”