It was at 8:30 that the first scream began. It was a loud, piercing shriek that split the night like a gunshot. Until then, the city had been in a sort of hushed silence, everyone holding their breath in fear of what was to come. People holding their family close and praying that the events of the night would happen away from their loved ones. But the damn broke and finally there was a scream. And then another. And then.... another. The police, in contrast of their usual response time, were quick to be on the scene. The first one, a girl of only seventeen-years, was hanging from a light post by the neck, her clothing stuffed with straw and hay. It was too late for her, but just down the block, someone else had leapt from their balcony by a noose. This one they did rescue, although the man had sustained severe neck trauma. But then a boy, not quite a teenager yet, had begun to sew his face up with a needle and thread. Long, jagged stitches over his face and mouth, ignoring his mothers frantic attempts to stop him. When she attempted to pry the needle from her sons hands, he shoved it into her eye and continued on with what he was doing. The toxin, of course, was not designed to have people commit suicide. He had not intended for there to be so many deaths, although he wasnt exactly upset about them. The toxin was simple, really. It changed the world of people into a world of scarecrows. You saw others as scarecrows, you thought of yourself as one. It was really very simple in design. No complicated visions. What a scarecrow meant was up to the mind of the infected individual. Those who were burning themselves alive likely saw too much Wizard of Oz. Those who were hanging themselves knew that scarecrows hung on posts. Those who were killing their families knew of him. Police officers who associated Scarecrow with Violence. Violent thoughts meant violent actions. There were people laying in the road who had stuffed themselves with straw and otherwise remained motionless. They were scattered around the streets, laying on benches, on stairs, in cars, /on/ cars... they likely knew that scarecrows were not real and did not move. The police, unfortunately, could not be everywhere at once. And the screaming only continued. It was from the alleyways that he watched from his mobile perch. The black stallion beneath him gave a muted snort, shifting as Jonathan Crane examined people flooding into the streets, screaming for police. There was terror, and it was thick in the air tonight. People were sobbing, begging, crying. They seemed confused and horrified, minds instinctively trying to shut out the trauma of what was happening. It was beautiful, really, to watch them as their minds desperately tried to cope with the situation. Few of them could manage it well, and even fewer acted rationally in their panic. Police lights, all too soon. Jonathan paused his notes, eyes flicking over the scene. A police officer was trying to take control of an uncontrollable situation. People were screaming at him to do something, and there was nothing that could be done. The man was obviously infected as well. His clothing had far too much straw stuffed into it, and Jonathan gave him fifteen minutes before he set himself alight. Beautiful. From a purely scientific standpoint, of course. Jonathan would never say that he took personal pleasure from watching others suffer. Truly, he felt little of any emotion while watching this. Perhaps some sort of pride that his Toxin was working as it should. But certainly not happiness or glee. Another police officer arrived on scene. Time to go. Come, Metus. Jonathan said softly, tugging on the reigns to turn the horse further into the alleyway. The clip-clop on the pavement was soothing, and the rocking of the motion was a comfort. There were few times he could do this without people running in terror. But now? Right now? No one gave him a second glance. Too caught up in their own meaningless existence and terrors to take heed of the man atop the startlingly large beast. I wAnTeD tO seE hoW iT plAyEd ouT. PiGS bURn so wELL. A voice in his head and Jonathan stiffened up, eyes narrowing. No. This is for science, not for pleasure. I will not allow you to ruin my experiment. Jon was quick to hiss out before the parasite got anymore ideas. He was well aware that Scarecrow was able to take control of his body when he wished to, and there was no way that he was going to let the alter-ego destroy all his hard work. aS yoU saY, Jonathan. thE niGHt iS YouNG anD fAr fRom oVEr. You- Whatever Jonathan was going to say was cut off as a police siren flared to life behind him. All units! I have Crane in sight! I repeat! The Scarecrow is in sight! All units to Fifty-five east Monroe! FREEZE. Damn. With a nudge to Metuss ribs, the horse took off like a rocket, Jonathan flattening himself down against the horses neck to prevent drag. The beast beneath him was fast and powerful, and the police were left behind quickly in the tremulous alleyways. A helicopter was hunting overhead, spotlight searching for him. Dammit. No! It was too soon. He had so little data! thE chAse iS oN, Jonathan. gEt oUT of hErE. Metus, /go/!
Posted on: Fri, 01 Nov 2013 20:17:17 +0000
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