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The Bat had made them weak, hidden himself beneath black armor so that they could rear their own soft pink flesh freely. Jonathan moved through the air as though he were walking along invisible strings. The crunch of his feet against brick and plaster was the only sound for miles - this far on the edge of Gotham, there were no sirens.
Passing winds would momentarily let moonlight shine through the thick blanket of clouds overhead, before the greedy skies swallowed its glow once more. That night, a waning crescent was Scarecrow's only onlooker.
Demons, vampires, and ghosts had followed him along the streets that night. They ran ahead of him, darting through backalleys and shortcuts like excited fans fresh streaming from a stadium after a home team's victory. They clawed at windows, dove into sewers, and slipped through cracks beneath doors.
Now they only danced on the edge of his vision, so faint that he could barely tell them from the surrounding shadows.
While his new gas was potent, the good doctor would sooner prescribe it in liquid form. Even now, some of it still swam in his veins, mingling with his blood and bone.
A dog barked, the sound breaking through the air like a firework. His lips, slowly turning upwards, pressed against burlap. Maybe people around here knew how to make a halfway decent security investment.
Pulling a cannister from his belt, Jonathan raised it to the sky like a glass of wine to be toasted.
Jonathan's heart beat faster, his whole body tingling. Like all vices, abstinence only fed the fires of temptation.
The first cannister fell from his hands onto a perfectly mowed lawn. It sat for a moment, a still speck that Jonathan had to squint to see. A cloud of gas burst forth a heartbeat later, flowing first upward and then outward across the air. Even fifteen feet above it, the scent of salvia tickled his nose.
One rooftop and then another. The next cannister was thrown hard than a star pitcher's baseball, cracking open as soon as it hit the ground. Green smoke filled the air, thick as a fog.
Things like this didn't happen on this side of the city.
At least not before tonight.
Christmas was months away, but the gift of fear came free year round. A woman stumbled out of her house before suddenly falling facedown on her porch, coughing profusely.
A short time later, just a little further off, a scream came. One, then two.
Pulling off his mask, Jonathan's sweat-glistened face met cool air. Grinning, he leaned back, elbow joints and back popping, and took a long, deep breath.