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.: Scarecrow'sCrow :.
Jonathan's POV
The feeling of the cold, harsh metal against the skin of my hand was simply intoxicating as I darted through the dingy, dirty streets of The Narrows. The rats and mice parted way for me as I took a sharp left into a putrid-smelling alley, stumbling and narrowly avoiding an unused, rusted-up dumpster. In a game of cat and mouse, however, there is no time for mistakes, so I quickly regained my footing and sped up, bolting even faster than before.
Jon, if you don't hurry up, he'll catch us, you know. If we get sent back to Arkham, then I'm not going to talk to you for the whole stay. Just putting that out there.
"I'm sure I'll survive the duration of the time with a reprieve from your insistent yammering Crow. Now kindly shut your trap as I'm trying to concentrate."
The Batman was surely not too far behind now, and that made me clutch my revolver even tighter. Scarecrow was right (for once) about Arkham. I couldn't go back there; I could not stand being half-heartedly 'psychoanalysed' by my previous underlings. It was utterly and completely degrading. I just had to escape. All I needed was a basic distraction - I mean The Bat was simple-minded after all. I cautiously looked both ways from the mouth of the alley. Upon seeing nothing suspicious, I staggered awkwardly towards a dilapidated letter-box.
I tried to calm my breathing, but I had been running for about six blocks without a break, and though now may not be the best time to take one, I sure as hell was going to. A sudden scraping noise to my right silenced my heavy breathing. I screwed up his eyes and pushed my ageing glasses up my nose to see through the near pitch black, and barely made out a mangy looking homeless man who looked absolutely wasted. And quite frankly, he smelledlike it too.
I wondered what that stench was. I personally thought it was you with all that sweat Jon; I mean we used to be a lot fitter than this.
"Well, being drugged-up to the eyeball-teeth doesn't leave much room for exercise Crow. And may I remind you that it's your sweat too. Now what do we do with this degenerate? I was thinking 'distraction' myself, but I bet you were thinking somethingalong the lines 'torture-him-until-he-spills-his-greatest-fears'."
Oh Jon, you know me sowell. I've got a plan-
"Please, not another one. The last time I let you make a plan, you singedoff our eyebrows."
This is a betterplan though. Let's do both. Torture him and use as him as a distraction.
"Hmm. Ok, good plan Crow. Exceptthat I already thought of it. Now hush and do your thing."
I receded into my mind, and watched in an almost otherworldly state as Scarecrow stood up straight and stepped towards him with the infamous scarecrow swagger, with what I'm sure was a menacing facial expression, but that couldn't be helped. What can I say? The guy is enthusiastic about what he does. Sometimes I wonder if he enjoys it too much.
The man was obviously too far out-of-it to know danger when it was staring him in the face and didn't even react in the slightest to our presence. Typical drunk.
"Hey. You there. Yes, you with the overpowering odour. What's your name, o' flea-ridden one?"
"Muh... Me? Well mah pals call me Tic. Tic Johhhness... Pleaseah meetcha misturh fancee pants..." He slurred, saliva dripping from his mouth as he showed off his grossly under-cared for teeth in a wide smile, the wind blowing his limp, greasy hair into his greyish, gaunt face.
"Well hello there, Tic as your, I'm sure, many friends call you. Now tell me Tic, how many bottles of magic juice have you had tonight?" He asked, gesturing towards the empty bottles of cheap cider. "In fact, don't answer that. Your gravelly voice hurts my ears. Just answer me this, Tic, would you like to see my mask?"
"Muh...Mask? Sure Fancee-Pants, ah luv masks... used to have one... when a wis a fire-fighter, afore a wis fired... an whut not..." He ground out, periodically drinking from a filthy looking bottle.
"Fascinating. Well this mask of mine is precious to me." Scarecrow reached into my inner blazer pocket and, with the most care that he could muster, removed the sacred –to Crow anyway- burlap sack, and gently placed it over his face, turning on the gas mask.
The drunk stared at us with an expression of sheer confusion, eventually followed by realisation –wonderful, even the homeless drunks knew of us.
"Yuh... You!?" He exclaimed as a look of horror crossed his features.
That look was priceless, and I knew Crow wouldn't be able to stop himself after seeing it. He lifted our arm and sprayed my precious fear toxin in his grubby face. The reaction was almost immediate; Tic fell to his knees, dry heaving, tears falling freely from his glazed eyes. Now that I think about it, it should be interesting to see how my toxin affects those under the effects of alcohol.
It appeared as though he was screaming, but his throat produced no sound. Crow was highly disappointed by these turn of events.
"Scream, god damn you! Jon why won't he scream?! I need to hear him scream!" Scarecrow shouted to the heavens.
Listen Crow, I know he should be screaming. Maybe it's something to do with the alcohol in his system? I honestly have no idea... it's fascinating... And I was counting on him attracting the Bat's attention whilst we made a break for it.
The homeless man continued to shudder back and forth, obviously seeing his worst nightmare, but still he was silent, except for his heavy breathing.
Scarecrow was exasperated. He grabbed our head –quite tightly may I add- and roared out in anguish; "BUT HE HAS TO SCREAM!"
The outburst caught me off guard. Never before had I seen Scarecrow so emotional. I had to calm him down, and fast. I needed to get back in control so I could fix this situation.
Crow... It's okay. Come on, we'll find someone else to harass, what do you say? Come on let me take over ag... Are you... Are you crying!?
"NO! I'm not!" He replied in anguish, but the lie was quite evident from the tear streaks on my face.
I had to take over right now. Imagine the humiliation this would cause when the Bat got here! And he surely would after that outburst from Crow.
Crow, just let me take over. We'll talk about this later. Come on, Hurry up!
"Fi... Fine" And with that, Scarecrow let go of the reins, and I was back in control.
Instead of, as I should have done, running away the first chance I got, I removed my mask and stuffed it harshly into my pocket then began furiously wiping at my face, trying to rid myself of the offensive sign of weakness. It was at this point the Dark Knight swept into the alley silently, observing the scene calculatingly with a mild curiosity.
Batman's POV
"I can't believe you started crying. What are you? A scarecrow or a mouse? We will be talking about this later."
Who the hell is he talking to? Does he have an accomplice? I searched around the alley for another presence, but the only other person I could see was an unconscious man covered in a layer of sweat and dirt lying in the middle of the alley.
After a silent pause, he spoke again; "Answer me this Crow. What kind of person cries because they can't get their victim to scream? God we are fucked up. Come on then, let's go before that flying rodent gets here."
Crane turns to leave, but I couldn't let him do that. No way.
Slinking along in the shadows with an almost inhuman speed, I block his path out.
"Where do you think you're going Crane? Back to Arkham I hope?"
"Dear god! When did you get here!? Let me leave at once!" Crane frantically tries to cover his eyes with his longish brown waves, but it really didn't matter. I had seen the reddish, watery crystal blue eyes. He'd been talking to himself?
Time to try intimidation; "You know I can't do that Crane. Are you coming quietly, or do I have to use force?"
"Do you think I'm scared of you Dark Knight? I am the Master of Fear! Don't make me laugh at your insolence. Just let me pass or you might regret catching up with me."
Well intimidation didn't work... However as I've found from experience, an angry villain tends to make more mistakes.
"Have you been crying Crane? Seems like something The Master of Fear would do. Cry."
"...How dare you insinuate such a ludicrous notion. The very thought is beyond laughable that I, The Scarecrow, would show such raw emotion. I'm not capable of it." He dead-panned.
"Showing a little bit of empathy for your victims isn't illegal Crane. However, gassing innocent people with a hallucinogen is." I lunged for him, and he jumped backwards in an attempt to avoid my grasp.
However, in doing so, he tripped over the unconscious log of a man, and one of his arms twisted around behind him, and when he hit the ground, it gave off a resounding snap. Broken. The other arm banged of the floor harshly, releasing all the contents from the canister up his sleeve. The white gas consumed Crane, and then quickly dispersed. Crane's intense eyes locked with my own, he screamed once, a blood-curdling cry of sheer terror, then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed completely, convulsing.
Then he laid still.
I ran to him, releasing his broken arm from where it was trapped underneath his back and picked him up without a second thought. As much as it went against my rule of not bringing my work home, I needed to get him back to the cave. He had been exposed to an almost fatal concentration of his own toxin and I had the antidote in a large enough dose in the cave, and quite frankly, if he didn't get it within about 10 minutes, this coma state would become permanent.