Chapter 24
While the green cocoon pulsed at the heart of Root Base, encasing Alex in his transformation, a sinister plan brewed in the vibrant, reborn streets of New Gotham. Not in the gleaming quarters of Dockers Square, but deep below, in forgotten sewers where damp rot clung to stone.
In an abandoned pumping station, lit by flickering torches, Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow, studied a vial of murky purple liquid with morbid fascination. Nearby, balancing on a rusted pipe, the Joker cackled.
"…and the toxin infiltrates the plant's vascular system," droned one of Crane's pale, twitching minions in a hooded cloak, clearly a test subject of the "product." "It mutates its metabolism. The fruits look normal for hours. But when eaten…" He coughed, wild fear flashing in his eyes. "…the world flips. Fear… hallucinations… aggression."
Scarecrow permitted a thin, joyless smile. He glanced at the vial, his voice dry with scientific regret.
"Pity the toxin's unstable in water and degrades under direct UV in minutes. Airborne delivery would need carrier particles—too easily filtered or they'd settle too fast."
The Joker's chilling laugh ricocheted off rusted walls.
"Your song's over, dear Ivy!" he shrieked into the damp dark. "Green paradise? Ha! Purple nightmare! HEE-HEE-HA-HA-HA!"
---
The next morning, New Gotham woke not to birdsong and floral scents but to screams. First scattered—on the market, in the park. Then more. About fifty citizens across the city erupted in uncontrollable rage, seized by terror, hallucinating nightmares, attacking passersby. Panic spread like an oil slick. Root's forces—mercenaries and retrained police—acted swiftly, brutally. Tasers, tranquilizers, restraints. No deaths yet. But the idyllic atmosphere was shredded. This was just the start.
Pamela Isley stood in the infected factory. The air was thick, cloyingly sweet. Her creations, usually vibrant, were grotesque—leaves curled, stems twisted, flowers pulsing an unhealthy purple glow. Even their energy felt warped, deranged. Mercenaries in hazmat suits cordoned the area.
"Here," one pointed to a perimeter section. "Weak point. Breached, but cleanly. Professionals… or guided by them."
Pamela didn't respond. She approached an infected plant, ignoring a mercenary's warning gesture. Her fingers, gentle yet firm, touched a purple leaf. Her eyes closed. Her consciousness merged with the sick plant, probing its essence, sensing the alien virus devouring it from within. Her bond with flora, honed to extraordinary heights, became her scalpel and microscope.
"Artificial," she whispered after minutes, eyes opening, burning with cold fury. "Synthetic nightmare. Programmed… like a virus. Not to kill the plant. To corrupt its fruit. Turn them into… conduits of madness." She clenched her fist, purple sap oozing between her fingers. "It couldn't… or wouldn't… target water or air directly. Too complex? Too obvious? Or…" her gaze traced the roots, "…this strain's unstable outside plants. But through fruit… perfect." She wiped her hand on a mercenary's suit with disgust. "Fucking Scarecrow."
"Is the factory isolated?" she snapped.
"Yes."
"Thank the Plants," Pamela exhaled. "But in one day… how many fruits shipped?"
"Roughly… five thousand. Already sent to markets, stores citywide."
Pamela's face hardened. Five thousand ticking time bombs.
At Root Base, tense anticipation reigned. Harley, studying a city map dotted with red markers (outbreak sites), jumped as Pamela entered.
"Rose! What's happening? The city's gone nuts!" Her voice lacked its usual playfulness.
Pamela, concise and emotionless, laid it out: the factory, Scarecrow's virus, tainted fruits, five thousand threats.
Harley listened, her face shifting from shock to rage to chilling calculation. Her mind, freed from the Joker's fog, worked at terrifying speed. She sprang up, pacing, spitting a plan like machine-gun fire:
"Point one: Vaccine! Can you make an antidote? Protect the other plants? Treat all factories and network hubs! Now!"
Pamela nodded, already sifting her knowledge. "I can. Using my DNA and aggressive antibodies. But for the whole city… it'll take time."
"Point two: Lockdown!" Harley shouted, undeterred. "Declare an emergency! All markets, stores—under guard! Every fruit checked before sale or purchase! Purple hue, weird smell—trash it! Our mercs and cops on every point!"
"That'll spark panic," Pamela noted.
"Panic's already here!" Harley shot back. "Point three: Truth! Hit every forum, social media! Official statement: Scarecrow tainted fruits at Factory #7, Dockers-West. Source sealed, vaccination started, goods being checked. Tell people what to do, who to call if they see purple crap! Lies and rumors are worse than Crane's poison! Point four: Hunt! All free cops and mercs—scour the city! Find Scarecrow's lab! Find that pale freak!"
She fired off the points like battlefield commands. But as she stopped, something heavy flickered in her eyes. She glanced toward the corridor to the lab with the cocoon.
"Damn…" she whispered. "He said it. 'If it's too good, fate's just winding up.'"
Pamela met her gaze, nodding wordlessly. They split—Ivy to her vials and plants to craft a shield, Harley to consoles and maps to organize defense and start the hunt. Alex's seven days had just begun, and Gotham was already burning.
---
Forum: Parahumans
Section: Rumors
Thread: Zombies in Gotham? For Real?!
Author: MyLittleKvas
Text:
PEOPLE, DID YOU SEE THIS MORNING?! At the 5th Street market, some guy ate a purple peach from a Floravita Industries stall and 10 minutes later TURNED INTO A ZOMBIE! Tore his shirt, screamed about spiders, attacked people! They barely restrained him. AND IT'S NOT A ONE-OFF! Saw three more in the park—same deal, same purple fruit! Videos here --> [link to stream: "Market Maniac.mp4"] --> and here --> [link: "Nightmare Park.mov"]. Is this Ivy's new attraction? Or is the city back in the shitter? ANYONE KNOW WHAT'S HAPPENING?!
Comments:
Konspirolog: I TOLD YOU!!! SlaveGreen, STILL WANNA BE HER CHAIR?! IT'S HER! IVY! HER PLANTS ARE POISONING US! SHE WANTS US ALL AS SLAVES! GREEN APOCALYPSE BEGINNING! RUN FROM THE CITY NOW!
Moderator ✅: Not even banning this one.
SlaveGreen: @Konspirolog YOU OUTTA YOUR MIND?! I don't believe a word you say! She didn't do this! She gave us life, clean air, food! And yeah, I'd be her chair any day! She's a goddess!
Adekvat228: Typical Gotham Wednesday. Seriously, from the videos and description—classic work of that sack-headed dipshit, Scarecrow. Jonathan Crane. Fear, aggression, hallucinations—his MO. Except now he's using Floravita fruits, the sneaky bastard.
RabbitInAHat: Not magic.
GreenMistress ✅: Hey, all. Since this thread's blowing up, let's clear things up.
Facts:
1. Sabotage hit one of our PERIPHERAL factories (Factory #7, Dockers-West Industrial Zone).
2. Culprits (confirmed involvement of Jonathan Crane, "Scarecrow") injected plants with a synthetic mutagen toxin.
3. Toxin affects ONLY fruits. It does NOT spread through air, water, or contact with uninfected plants.
4. Infected fruits have a distinct purple hue, may emit an unusually sweet or chemical smell.
What WE'RE doing:
- Source (Factory #7) is isolated and deactivated.
- Emergency vaccination of ALL other plants and network factories is underway.
- State of emergency declared. ALL Floravita fruits at markets and stores are under mandatory inspection by our specialists and law enforcement. Suspicious fruits are seized and destroyed.
- Large-scale operation to locate Scarecrow and his lab is active.
What YOU should do:
- DON'T PANIC. Situation's under control.
- When buying Floravita fruits, INSPECT them closely. Avoid fruits with purple spots, veins, unnatural color, or smell.
- If you spot suspicious fruits or symptoms (sudden aggression, hallucinations, panic attacks), IMMEDIATELY call emergency services (new number: 555-19-23) or report to the nearest patrol.
Konspirolog: YEAH, SURE, YOU DIDN'T START A GANG WAR, DIDN'T POISON PEOPLE, DIDN'T FAKE AN ASSASSINATION ON YOURSELF! WAKE UP, GOTHAMITES! IT'S ALL HER! GREEN PLAGUE! RUN!
Moderator ✅: @Konspirolog: Violation of Rules (1 - Baseless conspiracy theories, 4 - Capslock, 6 - Insulting generalizations). 6-hour ban. 🚫
---
Seven days. Seven days of pulsing light, strange dreams, absolute silence. Consciousness returned to Alex slowly, like surfacing from a deep, warm ocean. The capsule's petals parted with a hiss, releasing steam and a sweet biopolymer scent.
Alex stepped cautiously onto the cold lab floor. First, he checked himself. Arms, legs, chest… no visible changes. Lean muscles, no bulk. He snorted skeptically, glancing down.
"Well, no tits grew, and the dick's still there," he muttered. "Can breathe easy."
But tensing his muscles, he felt a difference. Not superhuman might, but… condensed strength. Tighter, more responsive muscles. Harley's level post-Pamela's mods, nothing more. Disappointment pricked: Something off? Then anxiety hit. The lab was empty. No Pamela, no Harley to greet his triumph. Gotham was in deep shit.
He hurried to his room, pulling on black pants and a gray tee. The clothes fit as before—no bursting seams from sudden biceps.
In the main control room, Harley hunched over a console, screens flashing city maps, data streams, news feeds. Her usual flawless makeup was smudged, deep purple shadows under her eyes. White-blue hair a mess. She heard footsteps, glanced at the door, and her gaze slid over Alex with no interest, like he was a ghost or another report, then flicked back to the screens. Seconds later, she looked again, frowned, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Hallucinations now…" she rasped. "Bad timing, damn it…"
Alex approached. His first urge was to smack her head for a wake-up. But he held back. New strength… what if he misjudged and knocked her out? Better not risk it. Instead, he asked evenly, "What happened while I was out?"
Harley stared. Real, slow focus. Her eyes widened. She leaped up, chair screeching back.
"ALEX?!" Her shriek shattered the room's silence. "YOU'RE REAL?! HALLELUJAH!" She was on him like a monkey, arms around his neck, legs around his waist. "You're back! Just in time! Well, almost—missed the apocalypse by a bit, but details!"
She babbled, still clinging, in her chaotic style—wild gestures, emotional outbursts: Scarecrow, purple fruits, street zombies, Factory #7, vaccination, emergency, checks, forums, hunt… Seven days of horror crammed into two frenzied minutes.
"…and so," she finished, yawning wide, "while Rosey's brewing antidotes, I'm steering this ship…" Another massive yawn. "I… I'm gonna sleep. No energy…" Her head dropped onto his shoulder, breathing deepening, asleep, still gripping him.
Alex gently pried off her hands and legs—lighter than expected, or was he stronger?—carried her to a nearby lounge, laid her on a couch, and draped a blanket over her. He studied her exhausted face, scratched his head.
"Trouble again," he sighed, unsurprised. "Fast expansion… influence spread thin. Control slipped. Expected."
Back at Harley's terminal, he skimmed reports, arrests, inspection maps, forum posts (pausing briefly on GreenMistress's thread). Harley and Pamela had reacted fast, ruthlessly, containing the crisis short of catastrophe. But Scarecrow and his allies were still free. That demanded… decisive action.
Alex opened Parahumans, found the "Rumors" section, and created a new thread from GreenMistress's verified account.
Forum: Parahumans
Section: Rumors
Thread: Scarecrow, You Piece of Shit
Author: GreenMistress ✅
Text:
Good evening (or whatever time you're at). Time to end this hide-and-seek with Jonathan Crane, aka Scarecrow, who thought poisoning people through my fruits was a laugh.
Offer:
1. $50,000,000 cash. Clean. Anonymous. Or crypto—your choice. To whoever provides VERIFIABLE info on Jonathan Crane's (Scarecrow's) EXACT LOCATION and/or his current lab/hideout within the next 48 hours. Info must lead to his immediate capture.
2. Amnesty. If the tip comes from one of his… "associates" or sympathizers and checks out, we guarantee full amnesty for involvement in this incident and safe exit from Gotham (or legalization here, if you prefer).
Key Notes (READ THIS):
1. Bring info IN PERSON to Floravita Industries' office (address attached). No calls, DMs, or anonymous drops.
2. To anyone thinking of lying or scamming us for cash: Congrats, you're now on the list of personas non grata for living, working, or existing in areas controlled by Floravita Industries and partners. Sanctions will be personal, total, and… highly inconvenient. Think twice.
Offer expires: 48 hours from this post.
Good luck to the honest. And to you, Johnny. Hope your buddies run fast. Or hide well.
Alex sent the post, leaned back, and stretched. Superpowers weren't wowing yet, but this move… he was in his element. The hunt was truly on.