**West Narrows Isle, Gotham - Tuesday Night - 11:47 PM**
West Narrows Isle was one of the smallest inhabited islands in Gotham's sprawling archipelago, a forgotten fragment of the city connected to the main narrows isle by a single deteriorating bridge, home to maybe ten thousand residents who were too poor to leave or too stubborn to abandon what little they had. The buildings were old, the infrastructure was failing, and the streetlights worked sporadically at best.
Perfect for field testing.
Three figures moved through the dark sky above the island, visible only as silhouettes against the cloud-covered moon. To any observer who happened to look up, they might have appeared to be large birds or tricks of light, nothing to be concerned about in a city where stranger things happened nightly.
Langstrom led the formation. His mutation Quirk gave him natural advantages for this kind of operation: enhanced night vision, echolocation that mapped the terrain below, and the ability to fly for hours without fatigue.
"Approaching target zone," he called back to his companions,
" probably around forty structures, and not a lot of people out at this hour."
Van Cleer, adjusted his flight path to match Langstrom's, his own moth-like wings beating with a different rhythm.
"Ready for dispersal on your mark," Cameron confirmed, his voice showing the true believer's enthusiasm he brought to all of Crane's operations.
"Strain Epsilon loaded in both canisters. This is going to be beautiful."
The third figure was the most visually striking: Basil Karlo, currently wearing the form of Hawks, a new hero from Japan whose Quirk gave him red wings for flight but unfortunately none of the other powers as he could only perfectly mimic appearances for now.
All three carried canister-like bombs.
He'd studied footage of him for hours to perfect the mimicry, and his clay-like body maintaining the transformation perfectly albeit for a limited time.
"This still feels excessive for a test run," Basil commented, though his tone suggested he wasn't actually objecting. "Forty buildings, potentially thousands of people exposed, that's a lot of data for one night."
"Comprehensive data requires comprehensive testing," Crane's voice replied over their coms. "Strain Epsilon's long-term effects have only been studied on individual subjects. We need to understand how it behaves when deployed at scale, if the paranoia compounds in group settings and creates a mass hysteria.
They'd reached the optimal position now, directly above the residential cluster, at sufficient altitude that the canisters would disperse their contents evenly during descent. Below them, the island was mostly dark, just a few windows showing light where insomniacs or night-shift workers remained awake.
Langstrom's echolocation painted a detailed picture: families sleeping in cramped apartments, the elderly man on the third floor of building six who was awake and watching television, the teenagers in building twelve who were sneaking cigarettes out their window, the single mother in building seven rocking a crying infant.
All of them about to become test subjects in Crane's ongoing research into the architecture of fear.
"Drop," Crane commanded.
Cameron released his canisters with practiced precision, watching them tumble downward, their contents beginning to mist into the air even before impact. The canisters were designed to shatter on contact with the ground, releasing Strain Epsilon in concentrated bursts that would then dissipate across the island on the night breeze.
The canisters impacted in four different locations across the residential cluster, their contents immediately beginning to disperse. The gas was a sinister black as it spread in the air and was naturally flowing into buildings through windows and ventilation systems.
"Dispersal successful," Cameron reported, watching the invisible spread with satisfaction. "Should we keep watching?"
"Negative," Crane said. "Im on the ground for direct observation, your job is complete go and return to the rendezvous point."
They banked away from the island, their forms disappearing back into the darkness, leaving behind a neighborhood that was about to wake up to a nightmare they couldn't see or understand.
**On The Ground - West Narrows Isle - 12:03 AM**
Suguro Crane stood in the shadows of building four, concealed in an alley that gave him sight lines to multiple residential structures while keeping him invisible to casual observation. He'd arrived an hour earlier to position himself.
The canisters impacted right on schedule, and Suguro began his documentation immediately.
**00:00:00 - Dispersal initiated.
He watched the buildings, waiting for the first signs of effect. Strain Epsilon worked slower than the more dramatic variants, it had to infiltrate sleeping victims unconscious minds, plant seeds of something that they would share a fear with others of that would blossom when they woke.
**00:11:34 - First observable response. Building six, third floor, elderly male subject who was awake at time of exposure. Subject has moved away from window, turned off television. Appears to be checking door locks repeatedly.**
The man, Suguro had observed him earlier, noted he lived alone, appeared to have some baseline anxiety already, was experiencing the initial effects. Seems like a sensation of being watched.
**00:15:22 - Building twelve, second floor. Two teenage subjects who were awake and outside their window have retreated inside. One appears to be closing and locking window and checking outside repeatedly**
More subjects were responding now. A light came on in building seven, the single mother, probably responding to her infant's increased distress. Crane would note that perhaps Babies and young children were particularly sensitive to Strain Epsilon, and would mark it down for further research later.
**00:23:45 - Multiple subjects across all buildings showing consistent behavioral indicators. Increased checking of locks and windows, retreat from open spaces, clustering together where multiple occupants present. Effect appears to be proceeding as predicted.**
Suguro continued his documentation, watching the subtle cascade of fear spread through the sleeping neighborhood.
A police siren wailed in the distance, standard Gotham background noise, but several windows showed people reacting to it with more intensity than normal, peeking through curtains, checking doors again, exhibiting the hypervigilance that Strain Epsilon encouraged.
He was making additional notes about potential refinements to the formula to create something greater than just mass paranoia of being watched, when he felt his phone buzz with a message from Jaina's primary form: *Van positioned at extraction point. Riddler activity detected in adjacent district, hus antics will bring more attention than planned I recommend your immediate departure.*
Suguro checked his timer. He'd been observing for nearly half an hour, sufficient data for a preliminary assessment, though he'd have liked to stay longer to document the full initial phase.
But Riddler activity meant attention, and while Edward Nygma wasn't directly hostile to Crane's Wings, his schemes had a way of creating chaos that affected everyone in their vicinity.
He sent a quick reply:
*En route. Two minutes.*
The van was parked where Jaina had indicated, one of their nondescript utility vehicles that could have belonged to any of Gotham's struggling service companies. Suguro could see three figures inside, one in the driver's seat, two in the back, all identical, all armed with assault rifles.
"Evening," the driver duplicate said as Suguro climbed into the passenger seat. "Test run successful?"
"Preliminary data looks promising."
"What's this Riddler situation?"
"Broke out of Arkham sometime this evening. Nobody noticed until bedcheck because he'd left an elaborate dummy in his cell, you know how he is. He's been setting up something in the Diamond District. We've got spotters reporting unusual activity, and one of my duplicates intercepted police chatter about mysterious question marks appearing around a three-block area."
Suguro rolled his eyes, an expression of annoyance he rarely showed but that Edward Nygma reliably provoked.
"Of course he is. Because subtlety is beyond him. What's our route relative to his activity zone?"
"We have to pass through the edge of it to reach the facility. Should be fine, he doesn't usually interfere with other villains operations, too focused on his puzzles and his need for attention."
The duplicate started the engine, pulling smoothly out of their parking space. "But you know how he gets. Unpredictable when he's in full theatrical mode."
They drove through West Narrows Isle's empty streets, crossing the deteriorating bridge back to Gotham proper. Behind them, a neighborhood full of people slept uneasily or lay awake feeling watched, their psychological comfort eroding minute by minute as Strain Epsilon did its insidious work.
Over the next few days they'd likely go through their days checking over their shoulders, jumping at shadows, doubting their own perceptions.
All of them would contribute to Suguro's research. All of them would help him understand fear more completely, refine his toxins more precisely, perfect his craft of psychological warfare.
For his final plan for Gotham one day…
He felt no guilt about this, inGotham you either cause pain or suffer pain.
A lesson all learn one day in this city.
The drive through Gotham's nighttime streets was familiar and tense simultaneously. Familiar because Suguro had traveled these routes countless times, knew which blocks were claimed by which gangs, where declining hero patrols were likely to be thin.
But anywhere in Gotham could fall into chaos quickly.
They passed through the Narrows, Gotham's most infamous slum, where Suguro had spent much of his childhood, and he felt nothing looking at the buildings where he'd suffered.
They were approaching the Diamond District, one of Gotham's failing commercial centers, when the road ahead suddenly erupted in flames.
Flames, appearing simultaneously across the street and up buildings in a pattern that was immediately recognizable despite the heat distortion.
A question mark. Spelled out in fire across the entire district. Blocking their path completely.
"Fuck," the driver duplicate said with feeling, already reversing. "I told you he was in theatrical mode—"
But behind them, more flames erupted. Another question mark. Boxing them in between two walls of fire that were spreading rapidly, consuming abandoned cars and debris.
And that's when the rest of the street erupted in flames.
Not just question marks now, but a complete enclosure. Fire on all sides, spreading with unnatural speed, fed by some accelerant Edward had positioned throughout the area. The van was now in the center of a burning cage, heat already making the interior uncomfortable, smoke beginning to infiltrate the ventilation system.
"Out," Suguro commanded, his tactical mind already calculating. "Van's compromised. Set it to burn completely, don't leave any evidence of our identities or operations. Jaina, you know the protocol."
The duplicates moved with synchronized precision from sharing a hive mind, all three pulled pins from small incendiary devices they'd kept concealed, tossed them into the van's interior, and then simply…
stood still as flames began consuming them within seconds, reducing three human forms to powder that would disperse and leave no evidence, no DNA, no fingerprints, nothing that could be used to track back to the original Jaina.
Suguro had already moved away from the van as it began burning in earnest, moving toward the one gap in the flames that remained, straight up. He pulled out his phone and texted quickly: *Need aerial extraction. Current location: Diamond District, Park Avenue and 47th.*
The response came immediately, Langstrom and Basil were still in the area, having been monitoring from a distance in case extraction became necessary.
*ETA 90 seconds.*
Ninety seconds. Suguro could survive ninety seconds, even surrounded by fire that was spreading and intensifying.
Suguro stood in the small island of clear space, fire roaring around him on all sides, and allowed himself a moment of genuine frustration. This was exactly why Edward Nygma was such a waste of potential, brilliant mind, extraordinary planning capabilities, all dedicated to proving how clever he was rather than achieving anything meaningful.
The sound of wings came from above, Langstrom and Basil (hawks form) descending rapidly, both moving with urgency that suggested they'd been watching the situation develop.
"Situation?" Langstrom called down, still airborne but low enough to communicate.
"Riddler theatrical bullshit," Suguro called back. "Need lift out. Van's destroyed, Jaina's duplicates disposed of. Where's Cameron?"
"Maintaining overwatch. He's spotted Nygma's position, three buildings north, rooftop, watching with binoculars like this is entertainment."
"Of course he is." Suguro backed up to give them space to land, "we'll deal with Edward later if he persists in being an irritant."
Basil landed first, his hawks hero form folding red wings neatly, his clay-based body making the impact softer. Langstrom followed, his bat wings creating downdrafts that actually pushed some of the flames back temporarily.
"Hold on," Basil said, moving behind Suguro and wrapping powerful arms around his left arm.
"This is going to be undignified but your going to have to deal with it boss."
His body shifted slightly, his arms lengthening and strengthening, his form adapting to carry additional weight. Meanwhile, Langstrom positioned himself to assist, his own grip securing Suguro's right arm.
"On three," Langstrom said. "One, two—"
They lifted together, wings beating in coordinated rhythm, carrying Suguro up and away from the flames that continued spreading below. The fire had consumed the van completely now, eliminating all evidence, and was beginning to spread to nearby buildings in ways that would probably kill many before the fire department could respond.
Edward's statement was going to have casualties. Probably didn't even occur to him as relevant, just collateral damage in service of his need to demonstrate cleverness.
They reached sufficient height that the fire below was just another point of light in Gotham's nighttime sprawl, Van Clear appeared, matching their flight path, having completed his overwatch duties.
"Data was excellent, at least for this primitive form of Strain Epsilon. I'll have a complete analysis within forty-eight hours."
They flew through Gotham's darkness, three villains carrying a fourth, all of them comfortable with their roles in an organization built on fear and horror.