Clothing and Stoning

Spending the night at a homeless center might not have been the best option, but it was an option that prevented me from having to sleep in a park. It wasn't the most comfortable or the most satisfying choice, but beggars could rarely be choosers.

And it also made me realize that I was in a really bad spot where I needed a source of income real quick. For now, I exchanged a few other things that I converted to gold, and of course, I sold them at different stores.

But doing such trades were risky, especially since I didn't have a business to back me up.

But that gold trade from before left me with quite a bit of money that I could use to improve my appearance.

And that was exactly why I was here.

A clothing store that screamed fancy from the moment I laid my eyes on it.

And with an almost certain belief that my wallet was going to bleed from this, I decided to walk in.

As I strolled into the clothing store, I glanced around at the colorful racks and diverse styles. There was a mellow theme that sounded awfully familiar playing in the background as I walked through the sections looking for a decent outfit.

And I won't lie, I was instantly drawn to the section with surprisingly the most laid back vibe.

A sleek black high-neck caught my eye, especially when I felt the fabric, I knew I had to get it. It felt smooth and comfortable, like it was made for me. I grabbed it off the rack and held it against my chest, checking myself out in the mirror. The high-neck added a touch of sophistication, which reminded me of the outfits I used to rock in the past.

Next up, jackets. I spotted a fresh white one that was also the last piece. It was the perfect contrast to the black high-neck, and I quickly slipped it on. The fit was spot on, with clean lines that amped up my silhouette. 

"I am digging this polished look."

Now, onto the pants. I was on the hunt for something that matched the top half and kept me comfy. Black pants caught my attention—they had that classic vibe that never went out of style. I slid them on and noticed the subtle taper towards the ankles, giving them a modern edge.

To complete the look, I needed the perfect pair of shoes. I was drawn to a fresh pair of white kicks on display. They were minimalistic and sleek, effortlessly tying everything together. 

Having to walk in rags for so long, I felt like I was walking on cloud nine after sliding them on.

Stepping back to check myself out in the mirror, I couldn't help but admire the whole ensemble. The black high-neck shirt fit like a perfectly, the white jacket added a touch of sophistication, the black pants gave me that streamlined look, and the white shoes brought it all to life. I was totally feeling confident in this look. 

And with my outfit on point, I headed out of the area, fully aware of the damage I was to do on my finances.

A worthy sacrifice 

From homeless to a model from the magazines, that's what I called development.

But well, firstly, I needed to check out and then I worry about a place to live.

As I made my way to the checkout counter in the clothing store, the cashier's eyes met mine, accompanied by a sly smile. Her confident demeanor and playful energy caught my attention immediately.

"Having a good shopping spree?" she asked, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes. 

Her voice definitely carried a hint of flirtation, making it clear that she enjoyed livening up the routine.

I nodded, smiling at her little trick.

Mostly because I knew it was the change in style that drew her attention.

There was no way she was even going to look my way when I entered the store.

And look at her now.

As she scanned each item, her fingers moved swiftly and purposefully, occasionally grazing mine in a deliberately subtle way. It was as if she enjoyed this little game of touch, adding a playful twist to the transaction.

With a teasing tone, she complimented my fashion choices, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "You've got some great taste there. This outfit will definitely make heads turn."

Her flirty banter was one of the tricks often used in high-end casinos and businesses, and I couldn't help but laugh along. I thanked her for the compliment, feeling a sense of amusement.

She continued the conversation, effortlessly blending small talk with witty remarks. I could feel that she was trying to drag the conversation longer.

Whether it was because of my new look, my massive spending or a mixture of both, I wasn't sure.

As she handed me the receipt, she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "If you ever need a personal stylist or someone to add a bit of mischief to your shopping experience, you know where to find me."

I chuckled, amused at the prospect of this intriguing encounter. With a playful wink, she bid me farewell, leaving me with a bunch of clothes and a dent in my wallet.

But well, clothing makes a man.

It was a necessary purchase.

…

…

Hidden into the deepest corners of Gotham, a man stood staring at the mirror.

A mixed look of confusion, fury, and disgust plagued his masked face.

Jonathan Cane wasn't the most handsome of men, but he had been a decent-looking person.

Sadly, that was true only until his face had been mauled by the Killer Croc, nearly removing his entire face from his skull and throwing him into sewer waters.

Thankfully, because of his mastery over chemicals and medicine, he had been able to stitch the mask alongside his torn face over his skull. 

Which ended up giving him an appearance that terrified grown-ups and kids alike.

Each time he talked, the stitches over his mouth made his flesh stretch.

It was a mixture of luck and his expertise with chemicals that he had not died of infections.

But at the moment, he did not care about such things. Because the look on his face was much more horrifying than it ever was.

He was burning with rage, the humiliation he had faced against that young man was not something he could forget.

He had been handled like a ragdoll, humiliated, and knocked unconscious all within a matter of a few minutes.

His toxins and acids had been utterly useless in front of that person, which had been the biggest punch to his face.

His specialty, his strongest weapon, had been meaningless when he went against that guy.

He gritted his teeth, making blood and pus ooze out of his torn face.

"I... will make him fear me..." He swore, trying to think of the most venomous, horrifying toxins and hallucinations he could create.

He rushed to his laboratory, swerving around to find the best ingredients to prepare his concoction.

He grabbed every liquid he could find and rushed to his workshop.

Only to be stopped cold in his tracks.

"Ughh!"

A sharp pain hit his heart, making his breath quicken and his body freeze.

He couldn't figure out what it was, what was happening.

All he felt was his chest feeling like it had been stabbed with hot iron.

"W-What's wrong–"

He stumbled down as his vision blurred, breath felt short as he wasn't able to breathe.

As he placed his hand over his heart, he realized something that reminded him of the one sentence he heard before being knocked unconscious.

`Enjoy the last twenty or so hours, as it will be your last.`

The words said by Jasper as he made the horrifying revelation about his heart.

It had stopped.

But before he could even cry out for help, his heart solidified into stone, making it crumble onto the ground.

Cold and lifeless.

All because of a certain interaction.

A certain robbery.

And a certain man.

A man that ended the long run of one of Gotham's most famous criminals.

The Scarecrow.

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