*Malcom POV*
*Location: Gotham City, New Jersey*
*Date: January 1st, 2002*
As the smoke slowly disappeared either out of the sewer tunnels or in some more mystical way, either way, all that remained were the dirt walls, which looked like they were barely stable, and some odd-looking candles, which would explain the source of the light. Either way, they were melting quickly, but that wasn't my biggest problem at the moment, no, that would be Wallace, who was currently staring at his hands, at his new form, and contemplating his new life.
"Th-Think you could fix me now, o-or at least slow down the process a bit more?" Wallace said with nearly no hope in his voice, as though in his own way he knew.
I just shook my head, though, not wanting to get his hopes up for nothing, sure I had a large bag of tricks alongside a few favors I garnered while in this new reality, but nothing that could help him now.
"I'm sorry, Wallace, once the transformation starts...well, even if it ends halfway, it can never be undone."
Hearing that Wallae didn't respond, not right away anyway, as he leaned against the wall in a huddled position, and started crying. Unable to hide the pain anymore, knowing full well that while he stopped more people from getting hurt, he had changed forever doing so.
"Jesus, what am I going to do now?"
I just sighed as I picked up the two halves of the scorpion with one hand, slinging them over my shoulder as I approached the tunnel, ready to get out of the sewers and clean myself/my clothes off.
"No idea, but...but right now I'd be more worried about getting out of here, the cops in Gotham may be mostly dirty, but all it takes is one to cause a whole shitstorm, they'll blame you or me, two freaks near the sewers where a bunch of homeless people died, who knows the restign officers could get a medal...well if they geet their hands on us."
Wallace, still crying, looked up at me, his red eyes staring at me as he wiped his face and stared at his hands. Then I saw it, I saw something else in his eyes besides the fear, the panic, and the rage behind it all, determination, or some inkling of what he needs to do now.
"This...This isn't over, is it? More of those things or something even worse will make its way here, right?"
I nodded my head, both curious where this was going but also not liking it at the same time.
"I think...I think I know what I need to do now. Someone needs to keep an eye down here, on these people, and make sure they can live to get a better life."
"So since I'm already a big old freak, might as well use it to my advantage, get rid of all these assholes and make sure that Gotham's underbelly is safe."
I solemnly nodded my head, knowing full well that while this version of Killer Croc and the prime version had similiar outlooks when it came to Gotham's homeless population, protecting them, other than that, I don't really see how much in common Wallace and Waylon had beyond that. It was a bit sad, I was unable to prevent it, but sometimes...sometimes you can't prevent someone's origin story, only influence it and make sure it swings in the right direction.
Take Two-Face, for example, sure I could try to prevent or heal whatever version of the accident transformed him into the crime lord we know. The problem was that eventually, that alternate personality, that anger buried deep in him, would take over, and even if this reality didn't have a Harvey Dent, I was sure it had some possible version of Two-Face running around, going through their daily life unaware of the larger machinations at play. One of the few things I could do, though, was prevent beings like The Spiral or The Dark from gettign their grubby mits in them.
Those two would probably be the biggest pain in my ass while in Gotham City; the others would find their own playthings. Well, except for The End, The End would simply wait and let everything die. They may have been the fear of death itself, but they were sentient, sentient enough to see they didn't need to choose or create an avatar or artifact, well, not unless it wanted to or if it happened naturally somehow. Then there was The Desolation, honestly...they scared me the most, I was burned by the portal's energy, by the rip between reality and my skin, forever scarred because of it.
The Desolation's choice in cultists or avatars was...obvious; it favored those who were burned and yearned for destruction. That was the part that always frightened me personally...I knew that somewhere deep inside me I wanted to destroy this world, this universe, for forcing this task upon me, and well, if they sent a clever enough speaker, someone who knows how to hit your every button like the Joker did with Harley Quinn, I could be changed as well to a force of destruction.
It wouldn't be a pretty sight and well...I don't know what I'd become afterward, what I would do with all that newfound power and want for destruction, to have people both fear and worship the flame. I then saw Wallace look at me as I began my trudge through the sewers once more, ready to get this whole thing over with and seal away this artifact regardless of its current state.
"H-Hey Malcom, could, could you come find me every once in a while and just talk? I don't think I'll have many friends after this."
I smiled, looking at him, that even though he was still saddened for himself and his body's fate, he was accepting his new role of guardian well.
"I'll do that, maybe bring a good Checkers board down here if you want."
We both smiled as I made my way out of the tunnels. I made a mental note to find Wallace once a week and play a good game of checkers. I didn't know if it would help him relax and keep himself in control, but I think...I think it would be a good idea to do so as a friend, to help him out and let him relax one time a week, even if it's for a little while.
*Journal of Johnathan Crane, Gotham University*
*Date: January 1st, 2002*
This week has been most interesting; it seems as though my research into the subject of fear has finally borne fruit. For example, I interviewed a man who claimed to have been buried alive for three whole days, unable to move, unable to even blink. It was interesting to learn about and understand. At first, I was only able to understand the basic fears people had, like bats, snakes, or any other creepy crawlie, as most people call them.
This one, though, this one was more fruitful in what I'm trying to understand. You see, fear isn't just about surface-level things; fear is a deeper psychological thing that attaches itself to the human mind, drives them to do certain things, and commit certain actions. Like the Fear of Death, for example, sometimes people will do everything they can to eat healthier, exercise, and do everything they can to live a little longer, to avoid the feeling of dying and seeing what comes next.
Although I myself have been...having interesting dreams lately, I dream of a grand tower. A twisting spire in the distance that reaches up to the sky with thousands of windows filled with green light pouring out of it. In it, I saw hundreds of faces, each one filled with terror as various things entered their rooms, their cells, and did something with them, snuffing out the green light in the process. Eventually, all that light, all that suffering went to the top, forming a gigantic ball until it eventually expanded and exploded in a bright array.
Then I wake up, in a cold sweat, feeling as though I was being watched, as though someone was observing me and everything about me. Learning all my dark secrets, every horrible thing about me, and well, not judging me, but...but instead simply absorbing the information as though it didn't matter, as though the things that made me were unimportant to it and just another thing it observed in its long existence.
Now that...that is interesting, to understand one's own fear of feeling small, of feeling watched and judged. More research will eventually be needed and understood before I get to the core concept of what makes fear...fear, how it is formed, and how it affects one's conscious and subconscious, and influences their lives and everything about them.
My own as well, to see what each person has in common, what overlaps each one has with one another, and how it can be categorized. Although recently there have been talks or well rumors anyway of my potential firing, something I will need to plan for in the future.
No matter my research will contiune either way, and back to the young man who told me of his experience, of his strange dream. Well, at least I believe it to be one anyway, as there was no way they could've possibly survived the experience unless they were extremmly lucky. Either way, the young man said he was hiking through the woods, wanting a relaxing day outdoors and somewhere away from the city. That's when he found it, the hole, the hole that would forever cement his fear of underground spaces.
In my personal opinion, anyway, but this young man leaned over, curious about where it came from before falling it. Now, normally, you'd expect them to die or to survive with a broken leg, but this young somehow was unsctached, further proving my point, it was nothing but an odd dream. Nonetheless, being so young, instead of staying in one place for rescue or to wake up, he went into the cave and eventually instead of simply walking, began to crawl, not noticing how the cave was starting to swallow him whole.
So of course, he became stuck, unable to move, not even a wiggle in total darkness, no way out or home, and all alone in the woods. I, of course, am no author, so I am unable to turn it into complete words on how terrified the young man was when he spoke of his experience, of the darkness and the hopelessness of the situation, of how he had no way out, and not one person who knew he was there.
No friends or family nearby to help him get out or find a rescue team, nothing but the bugs and darkness to keep him company in the place that would've become his tomb. A truly interesting and novel experience and one that...that seems to fill me up, as though I was hungry, oh well, no matter, more research will need to be done as it seems more and more people are experiencing odd dreams or situations.
It did make me wonder if I should get a tape recorder or stick with pen and paper, perhaps a mixture of both, to make sure I didn't lose any precious information.