Scarecrow had always been underestimated.
In a city of theatrical monsters, he didn't look like much at first glance. No towering physique. No army of mercenaries. No citywide cult of personality.
Just burlap. A mask. A voice that sounded like dry leaves scraping pavement.
But fear was more efficient than muscle.
When people thought of Scarecrow, they thought of gas—thin yellow clouds curling through hallways, creeping under doors, sliding into lungs. Once inhaled, it peeled back the layers of the mind and dragged out whatever horror a person had buried deepest.
Fear toxin wasn't limited to vapor. It could be embedded in dart tips. Coated onto blades. Pressurized inside capsules that burst on impact.
Sometimes it didn't just terrify.
It rewired.
Under the right dosage, victims became pliable—suggestible. Not mindless, but weakened enough for manipulation.
And beneath the chemistry, Jonathan Crane wasn't helpless in a fight. Years ago, he'd fused elements of Crane-style hand strikes with unpredictable drunken boxing footwork. The result looked erratic—almost comedic—but it was violently effective.
If Gordon's convoy had been hit, it wasn't brute force.
It was fear.
"Where exactly?" Lex asked, guiding the SUV onto the main road.
"A block from Wayne Tower!" Barbara shot back.
Lex's foot slammed the brake.
Tires screamed against asphalt.
Barbara lurched forward against the dash. "Why did you stop?"
"This smells wrong," Lex said.
"Wrong? My father—"
"Listen to me."
He turned toward her, voice steady.
"Wayne Tower is currently fortified. Gordon stationed armed officers there. If Crane attacked just one block away, he wasn't trying to stop the convoy."
Barbara's breathing hitched.
"He was staging."
"For what?"
"For reinforcements."
Lex's gaze hardened.
"If Tower security responds to the ambush and leaves position, Crane walks into an empty fortress."
Barbara swallowed.
"Even if it's a trap, I'm going."
She yanked a dagger from her boot and pressed it against his neck.
"Drive."
Lex didn't flinch.
"This car won't get us there fast enough. And the two of us aren't enough if Tower's already compromised."
"Then what do we do?"
"We escalate."
He killed the engine and stepped out.
"Wait here," he said, pointing toward the tree line. "Give me two minutes."
Barbara hesitated—then nodded.
She drove the SUV off-road and tucked it near the woods bordering the estate's outer perimeter.
From there, she watched the manor grounds anxiously.
Most of the guards inside were former Gotham PD—loyal to Gordon above all else. The moment word of the ambush spread, they'd wanted to mobilize.
Gordon's direct order had stopped them.
Hold position.
Barbara bit her lip.
Thirty seconds passed.
A minute.
If Lex didn't return soon, she'd drive herself.
Then—
A low mechanical growl cut through the trees.
Her head snapped toward the sound.
The Batmobile burst from a concealed tunnel entrance and accelerated toward her position.
Her heart leapt.
"Batman!"
The vehicle drifted smoothly to a stop beside her.
The canopy slid back slightly, revealing the dark silhouette within.
"Ma'am," Lex said in a deeper register, masked and armored. "I heard you require assistance."
"Yes! My dad—Chief Gordon—Scarecrow attacked him!"
"Then let's not waste time."
The passenger canopy lifted.
Barbara scrambled inside.
The cockpit wrapped around her in matte-black precision—screens, weapon mounts, reinforced panels.
"Thank you, Mr. Batman," she breathed.
The canopy sealed.
As the engine revved, Barbara's panic momentarily gave way to awe. She touched a console.
A compartment snapped open and partially deployed a rocket mount.
She jerked her hand back.
"I'm so sorry!"
"It's fine," Lex said, retracting it smoothly. "Seatbelt."
She fumbled it into place.
As they accelerated, she studied him.
"If I may… you seem different today."
"Different?"
"I don't know. Just… different."
He didn't respond.
Then she gasped softly.
"Oh—we forgot about Lex."
"Lex?" he asked evenly.
"He saved my life," she said quickly. "I guess he's… a friend."
"Is he?"
"I think so."
She squinted slightly.
"How did you know where I was? And that I needed help?"
Lex suppressed a sigh.
"I'm Batman," he said flatly. "I monitor Gotham."
"Oh."
A beat.
He shifted gears.
"Speed mode engaged."
The Batmobile surged forward.
Wayne Tower loomed ahead—glass reflecting smoke-stained daylight.
Just as Lex suspected, Gordon had been bait.
Crane had wanted Tower access since the Joker lost control of the district.
Years earlier, Crane had attempted to dose the Joker directly with fear toxin.
It hadn't worked.
The Joker hadn't reacted.
He'd laughed.
And then beaten Crane unconscious.
Since then, the memory lingered like a splinter in Crane's psyche.
Now the Joker was contained.
The opportunity had returned.
A garbage truck had rammed Gordon's transport vehicle from the side.
Toxin canisters rolled beneath the doors and burst.
Yellow gas filled the air.
Gordon and his officers were herded into the damaged transport car afterward—doors sealed, ventilation compromised.
Not enough to kill.
Enough to distort.
Inside, every shadow looked predatory.
Every sound felt like imminent death.
Gordon, through sheer force of will, had managed one clear transmission:
"Hold positions. Do not deploy from Tower."
Then static.
Crane had expected Tower to ignore that order.
They hadn't.
So he adapted.
He positioned himself across from the fortified entrance, holding a detonator.
"Gentlemen," he called out theatrically.
"If you fire on me, Commissioner Gordon and several of his companions will be reduced to decorative fragments."
He bowed slightly.
A grotesque mimicry of stage performance.
From behind a concrete barricade, a small burlap effigy dropped and shattered.
Gas billowed outward instantly.
Tower guards coughed as the yellow mist rolled toward their defensive line.
Crane's voice floated over it.
"Oh, and I brought you a present."
He giggled.
High-pitched.
Distorted through the mask.
The toxin spread.
Inside the transport car, Gordon gripped his radio tighter as hallucinations clawed at the edges of his vision.
Outside—
The Batmobile turned the final corner.
Lex saw the gas cloud immediately.
"Stay inside," he ordered Barbara.
"What about my dad?"
"I'll get him."
The vehicle's internal filtration system sealed automatically.
Lex armed the counteragent dispersal system Alfred had installed weeks ago.
Crane had come prepared.
So had he.
The Batmobile accelerated straight toward the spreading yellow fog.
....
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