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Morin honestly hadn't expected Crane to do something like that.
It immediately reminded him of a classic scene.
"This knife is highly poisonous. Touch it and you'll die."
(Lick.)
So people like that actually existed?
Morin was genuinely astonished.
But in his original plan, Crane was still useful.
"Could it be that once he puts on the mask, the madness buried in his daily personality fully activates," Morin speculated, "causing a suppression and decline in his intelligence?"
He watched as Crane's eyes went unfocused, his pupils contracting violently.
Morin became interested.
...
A short while later, Morin left the room with a satisfied expression and closed the door behind him.
That frightening little stunt had been unexpectedly enjoyable.
Watching the drastic change in Crane before and after, and seeing how a few casual words could make him jump, Morin immediately understood Crane's obsession with this kind of behavior.
Contrast was a wonderful thing.
It brought an inexplicable sense of satisfaction.
A common example was acting like a pig to eat a tiger.
Compared to that, using drugs to induce hallucinations and then creating contrast felt slightly inferior.
Morin tested it briefly.
Then he lost interest.
His power level made detours unnecessary.
Overwhelming force was simpler and more efficient.
"Since Crane is out of the picture, the plan needs to change..."
Morin had attempted to use mind-control magic on Crane in the room, but Crane's condition was far too severe.
After taking a breath and entering a state of fear, Crane instinctively began breathing heavily to relieve the pressure.
At that point, the air was saturated with fear toxin.
An overdose meant death.
Morin had no intention of saving him.
Crane was a villain.
A scumbag.
If he died, it saved resources.
Since he couldn't be controlled, he had lost his last remaining value.
Morin took out his phone and made a call.
"What's wrong?" Gordon answered.
"I ran into a little trouble," Morin said. "Where are you right now?"
"Oh God, don't tell me you trashed another place," Gordon sighed. "I'm at the station."
"How can you slander me like that?" Morin replied. "Do I look like the type who goes around trashing other people's places?"
"This time, I didn't start it."
"So you did trash it," Gordon felt like spitting blood.
Why does it always feel like your job is demolition?
"Don't worry about that yet," Morin said. "Come to Arkham on Narrows Island."
"I found something."
"Arkham?" Gordon was startled. "What's wrong there?"
"The director here, Crane, is insane," Morin said. "He's been helping thugs, forging psychiatric evaluations to keep them out of prison, and secretly conducting human experiments."
"He created a neurotoxin that amplifies fear to the extreme. For his own twisted enjoyment."
"...Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Morin said, recalling how the toxin had been instantly neutralized the moment it entered his lungs, never integrating with his body before being expelled.
"But Crane isn't doing so well."
"Did you hit him?" Gordon asked. "Is he dead?"
"Do I look like a violent person?" Morin asked back.
"You don't look like one," Gordon said dryly. "You are one."
"I didn't touch him," Morin said. "He inhaled his own toxin. Then, in fear, kept breathing more and more."
"He's gone insane."
"He's about to die."
"Wait," Gordon said. "You're saying Crane created the toxin himself, right?"
"So how did he inhale it?"
"Didn't he know how dangerous it was?"
"Who knows," Morin said. "Some people even lick poisoned knives."
"For a psychopath like him, isn't that normal?"
"...Fair point," Gordon said. "Do I need to bring backup?"
Gordon had already decided Morin was involved.
He just chose not to say it.
If Morin didn't want to explain, there was no need to push.
After all, blaming a scumbag for crimes was never a problem.
And if that were the case...
Wouldn't the criminals Crane had "saved" end up as test subjects instead?
Gordon's eyes lit up.
Karma really was a bitch.
The heavens spared no one.
His mood improved significantly.
"There's something else," Morin said, turning toward the elevator.
He remembered the key was on Crane.
He didn't bother going back.
He took the stairs instead.
Which made him wonder-
Why didn't Rachel take the stairs in the movie after discovering Crane's true nature?
(Ghost: "I don't know. Probably stupid.")
In any case, elevators always had staircases.
Otherwise, what would you do if it broke?
Morin descended toward the bottom floor.
"What is it?" Gordon asked.
"A major event that will affect all of Gotham," Morin said.
"Our plan is for you to become commissioner."
"This will help your promotion."
"So come alone. We need to discuss how to handle this for maximum benefit."
"Affect the whole city?" Gordon stood up immediately.
"Yes."
Morin reached the bottom floor.
He scanned the area and headed toward the only room with faint noise.
"I'm certain that if what they're doing isn't stopped, the entire city will be endangered."
"What are they doing?" Gordon asked, starting his car.
"We'll ask them."
Morin kicked the door open.
The explosion of sound froze everyone inside.
The room was massive.
Tall.
More like a factory than a room.
Clearly excavated and modified later.
No proper factory would leave water transport pipes exposed like that.
The distance between floor and ceiling was nearly ten meters.
The door Morin had kicked open was halfway up, requiring stairs to reach the main floor.
Steel barrels were scattered everywhere.
Several water pipes had been cut open.
Before Morin arrived, liquid from the barrels was being poured into the flowing water.
Now?
Everyone stood frozen.
The thugs stared blankly.
Why wasn't Crane here?
Who was this man?
"What are you doing?" Gordon heard the noise through the phone and felt uneasy.
That sound-
A door being kicked in?
"Relax," Morin said, phone in one hand, the other in his pocket.
He looked coldly at the frozen henchmen.
"I'll be fine."
"Get him!" a small-time boss shouted after snapping out of it.
He's not one of us.
Something's wrong.
"What the hell is happening?" Gordon demanded.
"I'm clearing the site," Morin said. "I'll call you later. I'm about to move."
He hung up.
"Hello? Hello?! Damn it!"
Gordon tossed the phone aside and floored the accelerator.
He didn't call for backup.
Not because he was heartless.
But because Morin's recent displays had completely shattered his sense of scale.
He wasn't worried about Morin at all.
Breaking into a mob-controlled bar.
Knocking out multiple armed groups.
Without killing anyone.
That kind of strength spoke for itself.
Combined with the abilities Morin mentioned earlier...
Gordon had zero concern for his safety.
He was rushing because he was worried Morin might accidentally wipe out everyone with useful information.
Back at Arkham.
Morin walked calmly toward the thugs aiming submachine guns at him.
What followed was inevitable.
An unquestionable, one-sided victory.
Less than ten seconds.
They never fired a single shot.
"What happened?" Gordon asked urgently over the phone later.
"You didn't kill them all, did you?"
"Why do you always assume I kill people?" Morin complained.
"Do I really look like someone who enjoys killing?"
"Of course not."
"I just knocked them all out."