Chapter 10 Scarecrow

Solomon watched in fine detail as the grotesque transformation unfolded before him. The screams of the men pierced the quiet night as their muscles bulged, stretching their bodies to the brink of tearing through skin.

Their frames grew rapidly, unnaturally, and veins thickened like ropes beneath their flesh. A twisted grin stretched across each of their faces—the pain overtaken by the intoxicating rush of power.

"Die, weakling," one of the criminals snarled as they all charged at the masked man.

The serum had lowered their intelligence and amplified their aggression. But that wasn't all it did. One of the men's hands glimmered, turning to diamond, as he lunged at Solomon at Mach 1.

Of course, to Solomon, this was nothing. But he knew his suit wouldn't withstand the impact.

He calmly raised his hand. Scarlet energy erupted from him, encasing the entire area. In an instant, the attackers were frozen—locked in place, not even able to twitch.

Solomon's telekinesis was too powerful. Even he had not yet reached its limits.

A grin formed behind the mask.

He had trained in solitude for years. Now it was time for real-world results. Time to test.

He began with one of the techniques he considered telekinesis's most lethal: precision internal crushing.

Just for show, he lifted his hand and made a slow pinching motion. Scarlet energy wrapped around one man's heart, squeezing.

The man screamed in agony, his body trembling as his heart was slowly crushed within his chest. When Solomon released him, the man dropped to his knees, gasping—then stopped moving. A final pop echoed faintly.

Dead. Forgotten.

Solomon didn't spare him a glance as he moved on to the next experiment.

The others, still paralyzed, were barely able to process what had just happened. They had heard a pop and watched their comrade collapse—but couldn't understand how. Even through the serum-induced fog in their brains, they recognized death.

Another man began to float upward.

Solomon wanted to make a statement. What better than fireworks?

The man ascended into the sky, his chest beginning to glow, the light flickering brighter and brighter. An ominous energy filled the air. Everyone watching felt it—the anticipation of doom.

Elsewhere, in a nearby lab, Scarecrow was preparing his gear. He heard the commotion outside and assumed it was Batman. He'd already booby-trapped the place with fear toxin—but when Batman was involved, nothing was guaranteed.

BOOM!

The explosion rocked the building. Glass shattered, and the shockwave echoed for kilometers. In the skies above Gotham, it was as if a second sun had appeared.

Back at the scene, many of the criminals had already lost control of their bowels. The raw terror of being at the mercy of such overwhelming power broke their minds.

They had believed the serum made them invincible. They had believed in strength through numbers.

They were wrong.

"Ha… ha… have mercy, please…"

"I'm sorry…"

Some began to sob. Others begged. A few even prayed, desperate for a hero—any hero—to come and save them.

"You want mercy?" Solomon asked, tilting his head. The mask made the gesture unsettling.

"Do you think you deserve it? After everything you've done?"

Silence. Their hearts pounded in their chests like drums of doom.

"Well… sorry."

"It's too late for mercy."

SPLAT.

Brain matter sprayed across the crowd. One man's head had exploded without warning.

Some wanted to scream, but they still couldn't move.

SPLAT.

Another.

Panic set in. Pure, mindless fear. Solomon was killing them at random, and the unpredictability only made it worse. Some vomited. Others muttered prayers to gods they hadn't spoken to since childhood.

Some still clung to hope that Batman would come.

But he didn't.

One by one, they all died.

Solomon walked past the headless corpses as if they were trash on the side of the road. They were inconsequential to what he came here for. It was time to kill his real target.

Batman was in his Batmobile, racing toward the explosion site. He, like many in Gotham, had seen the blast—and from the color of it, he already knew who caused it.

A scowl appeared on his face as he thought back to his investigation. Solomon had been very elusive, always slipping through his grasp. No matter how hard he tried, Solomon was one step ahead.

Batman remembered how he had scoured Gotham for Solomon. Ever since Solomon left the Young Justice, he had left a scar on the team that never seemed to heal—especially on his brother. It could be seen as many of the kids had talked to Black Canary on what happened on the island

Robin had asked him for more training, kid flash practiced like never before, seeking advice from barry.

Aqualad had relentlessly dived into training, constantly practicing everyday. Finally M'gann had seeked help from Martin Manhunter. She seemed to have overcome her fear of Solomon.

Superboy on the other hand made him very cautious. Ever since Superboy awakened his powers, his aggressive behavior had risen dramatically. He had many close calls, nearly killing several of the villains he faced. He seemed to be constantly growing stronger, to the point that many of the team's greatest enemies were no longer a threat to him.

Off course that was the same for the team, as it seems they have improved drastically. Maybe they might even surpass us. Batman thought as he recalled the data he had gained from the team. Their growth was far faster than theirs, maybe not superman, but something may happen in the future.

Batman's mind returned to the details of his investigation. He had found no solid evidence, only scattered reports of a boy stopping muggings. None of the witnesses could provide a clear description. Solomon couldn't be seen on camera—seemingly invisible—though people in the recordings could clearly see him with their eyes.

Batman rapidly reviewed Solomon's known abilities in his head, glancing briefly at a glowing green rock in his hand. He had made precautions on Solomon, and this was just one of them. He did not know how this would affect Solomon, but he was still kryptonian after all.

Another precaution had had put in place was calling for help. He normally wouldn't do this, but he had no choice.

Most of the Justice League was off-planet, leaving only heroes like Green Arrow, Red Tornado, and Black Canary available. He had called them—they would all meet at the designated location.

Solomon had finally reached Scarecrow's lab. The traps were completely ineffective.

"Scarecrow," he called out.

"Stop hiding. I know you're here."

Solomon didn't bother looking toward the corner—he didn't need to. He could hear the thumping of Scarecrow's heart.

An object was suddenly thrown at Solomon, filling the room with thick gas. Scarecrow, wearing a gas mask, emerged from the shadows, confidently approaching him.

At first, he had assumed it was Batman—but after witnessing the earlier explosion, he knew it was someone else.

"I've spent my life studying fear. Dismantling it. Breeding it like a virus. You think this little display of yours can frighten me?" Scarecrow said.

Solomon remained silent. Slowly, he raised his hands, as if preparing to clap.

Scarecrow's confidence faltered for a moment, realizing that the toxin wasn't affecting Solomon. Perhaps his mask was protecting him.

BOOM!

A powerful shockwave erupted as Solomon clapped his hands together. The blast dispersed the gas in an instant, launching Scarecrow across the room. He slammed into the wall with a heavy thud, cracks forming in the concrete from the impact.

His head was spinning, not able to understand what had just happened. His body hurt, and he could barely breathe. He was just a human, and so that attack had done a lot of damage.

Solomon stood tall, mimicking one of his favorite Marvel heroes moves. Though not close in power, it was still more than enough to get the job done.

He slowly turned his head, taking in his surroundings, absorbing all the details with inhuman precision. Then his eyes landed on one of Scarecrow's fear toxin bombs.

He picked it up, instantly understanding its mechanisms and design.

"So… you love creating fear," Solomon said calmly.

"I've read your mind."

"Causing terror in others brings you joy."

He stepped closer to Scarecrow.

"Why don't you be afraid for a change?"

With one swift motion, Solomon ripped the gas mask off Scarecrow's face and activated the bomb in his hand. The gas spread slowly across the room, creeping into every corner.

Scarecrow tried to crawl away, desperate to escape. Holding his breath didn't help—eventually, he gasped for air.

Terror surged through his mind like electricity. He scrambled to a corner, breaking down completely. Clutching his knees, he rocked back and forth, screaming as hallucinations of his greatest fears tormented him relentlessly.

Solomon stood silently, watching. His mask betrayed no emotion.

Scarecrow began to sob, then bolted toward a shard of broken glass on the floor. He couldn't take it anymore—he would rather die than continue feeling this fear.

Solomon was about to let it happen… but then, he heard something.

One kilometer away, a vehicle was rapidly approaching. He could hear the engine and, more importantly, the familiar heartbeat.

Batman.

But that wasn't the only thing that caught his attention. A few miles out, a group of individuals were flying toward his location. One of them gave off the distinct mechanical hum of Red Tornado.

That still wasn't what intrigued him most.

Behind them, trailing close, was a group of kids.

Solomon immediately halted Scarecrow's suicide attempt.

This man could not die yet, he still needed to put on a show for Batman.

What really excited him most was seeing his brother. Though that thought diminished as he quickly realized Superboy probably hated him.

Batman arrived first, as Solomon heard a thud outside.

Thank you all for reading, im sorry for the short chapter. I have no excuse, but procrastination. I hope you enjoyed.