The rec-room was quiet and peaceful this evening – almost a homely atmosphere, one might have thought. Pamela was relaxing on the couch, her long legs outstretched over both seats, reading an old gardening magazine. No male inmate dared to disturb her.
Ventriloquist was sitting on the floor, reading a book. Scarface was scolding him for not claiming the couch for the two of them before the plant lady had: "You're such a loser," the puppet waved its hands. "You wouldn't survive a day in here without me!"
Socializing was considered part of the inmates' therapy, along with their individual sessions with psychiatrists and the daily medication. Most of the Arkham patients, however, preferred to be left alone. There were only a few exceptions to that rule.
Scarecrow, for example, was playing chess with Mad Hatter. The game was going on for quite some time and it looked like Professor Crane was losing this one. Tetch kept grinning at him like the Cheshire Cat and Jonathan was not pleased at all. With his chin resting on his hand, he was pondering about his next move.
"Pawn to C3." Scarecrow didn't flinch when a voice from behind his back decided on a move for him with an ungodly self-confidence. He didn't have to turn his head to check who was talking, he knew that arrogant tone. And yet, he did look back – just to see Edward Nygma nonchalantly leaning against the wall, observing the game with the most bored expression possible.
Scarecrow's eyes narrowed. "How long were you standing there?"
"Long enough to know that you're losing," the man simply answered, showing no regrets about the fact that he was not invited. "And you ARE gonna lose, Crane, I can already see that. Unless, of course, you move that pawn from C2 to C3."
Jonathan, who was playing the black pieces, shifted in his chair and turned to face the unwanted helper. "Thank you for your input but I know how to play this game."
"Then why are you doing so poorly?" Nygma mocked and Tetch giggled uncontrollably.
One glance from Scarecrow and Hatter went quiet, covering his mouth with both his hands.
Warning signs like this didn't work on Riddler, unfortunately.
Jonathan sighed. "We can't always be winning, now can we?"
"But I'm telling you." Nygma rolled his eyes in irritation. "You CAN still win this if you do what I said."
Crane pursed his lips and glanced at the chessboard, he didn't like being told what to do, or lectured, or patronized – he was one of the oldest rogues in here, one of the best educated and intelligent of the inmates – and yet, a freshman like Nygma dared to casually order him around. That was unacceptable!
"If I move my pawn there, my king will be unprotected," he pointed out sourly. "And Tetch will take that pawn out with his own king anyway."
Jervis eagerly agreed by nodding his head up and down, the big smile on his face was still there but it didn't annoy Scarecrow that much – it wasn't the cocky smirk of a soon-to-be winner. Tetch was not the type who bragged over his successes which really, he didn't even have that many of, to begin with.
"That's the point," Nygma exhaled, visibly frustrated, as if he had expected Crane to read his mind for the chess strategy. "You want to force his king to do that, you sacrifice the pawn to gain the upper hand later. Just trust me."
Jonathan didn't really see how that was supposed to work, but even if the self-claimed genius was right, listening to his advice still sounded quite humiliating.
"Oh, come on – it's just a pawn," the red-head huffed, seeing Scarecrow's hesitation.
"I don't remember asking for your help."
"And it's rude to stare or to interfere," Hatter added in his usual sing-song manner, not very upset by the situation. "Helping one player doesn't seem too fair."
Riddler ignored the little man, crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side. "Fine, go ahead and lose, Crane, and don't say I didn't warn you. I'll be witnessing your humiliation without further attempts to help you avoiding it."
"You will be witnessing nothing," Scarecrow told him with a treacherously calm, ice-cold voice. "You will turn around and walk away unless you want to wake up one night to the sweet scent of my fear gas in your cell."
Hatter gasped at that threat but Riddler shook his head theatrically.
"Oh, that's cold... And I was only trying to h..."
"You were trying to prove that you're the smartest person in the room," Jonathan cut him off quite rudely.
Nygma was about to say "I am." but he didn't have the chance.
"You always do exactly that. You are compelled to do so by your compulsive need to be admired. But tell me, Edward, what good has that little compulsive behavior ever done you?"
There was no answer. As unusual as it was, Riddler stood there speechless, just glaring.
Professor Crane wasn't done with him yet. "If you were as smart as you think you are, you'd noticed already that the way you act is counterproductive to the very thing you crave for. You repel those around you, and then you blame it on them. But the truth is, you are the one responsible for your failed attempts to socialize. All you're successful at is annoying the hell out of people, that's why no one wants to play chess with you. Think about that on your way out of my sight."
By the time Jonathan finished, Jervis' smile was long gone, replaced by a worried frown. His blue eyes were darting nervously from Scarecrow to Riddler and back. "Jon, it's okay, we can let him stay..."
Nygma's face was red with anger and twisted with a nasty kind of grimace. "Don't bother," he hissed at Tetch through his gritted teeth. "I hope you WILL lose, Crane," he added before walking off to the opposite side of the room.
Hatter's gaze followed him, Scarecrow didn't care. He turned to the chessboard once again and finally made his move.
He moved the pawn, however, not to where Nygma had advised him to.
"That sure wasn't nice," Jervis commented quietly. "He's mad, no surprise."
"Don't mind him. Let's play."
They did, and Jonathan lost.
Nygma didn't talk to either of them for three entire weeks.
-#-
The city was nothing but chaos tonight, darkness consumed Miagani Island, a wild crowd was storming the GCPD, gunshots and screams echoed through the dark streets and narrow alleys.
Their team-up was going better than expected, the three of them were leaving the crime scene in a hurry. The initial heist from two days ago had gone smooth as ever: Riddler's riddles had proven themselves to be useful, providing a distraction long enough for Scarecrow and Mad Hatter to steal an armored truck loaded with money. And earlier today, Hatter had thrown all those money bundles away, tossing them down to the crowd from the roof of the City Hall. Jervis had made some poor Gothamites very happy – at least for a very short moment.
Now, all those fools who had grabbed any of the stolen money were under Hatter's mind-control spell. Tetch had sent his puppets to attack the GCPD. Meanwhile, Riddler had caused the large blackout. With no electricity and the ongoing riot, robbing the Wayne Tower had been a piece of cake for the three of them. Scarecrow, who hadn't believed in this plan from the start, was ready to admit to himself that perhaps he'd been wrong.
That was until that pitch-black shadow came gliding over their heads in an empty alley. The Bat – like a hell-born creature – landed a few steps before them, blocking the path to their getaway car, and possibly to their freedom.
"Your crime spree ends here," the deep, ominous voice came from the dark figure. "You're going back to Arkham, all three of you."
Batman just stood there, motionless like a statue, only the eye-gaps in his mask narrowed slightly. His presence alone was enough however, for Hatter to gasp in genuine panic and for Riddler to take a cautious step back. Scarecrow cursed under his breath and took a fighting stance, getting his scythe ready for the inevitable battle.
And then it began. Two batarangs shot out from under Batman's black cape. Scarecrow had seen that coming, his scythe twirled in his hands as he deflected the attack. One of the batarangs soared up and got lost to the night, the other got stuck in the brick-wall next to Tetch's head.
Jonathan took a swing at the Bat. And missed – the damn vigilante jumped over the blade with little to no effort. A kick to the face sent Scarecrow to the ground but the hit was not strong enough to knock the man out.
Seeing that, Hatter let go of the briefcase with the stolen tech and reached for his precious mind-controlling cards. He threw them like batarangs, in the hope of planting a hypnotic suggestion into Batman's head. But they didn't even touch the target. The Big Black Bat dodged and was about to punch Mad Hatter in the face. Jervis squealed and squatted, his hands protecting his hat – and the mind-controlling band beneath it.
Just as he did that, something went "bang". It was Riddler's question-mark cane with an inbuilt gun that had fired. Batman leaped away and rolled out, the bullet missing his body by a few inches.
Riddler gritted his teeth, he had only one shot left – his cane allowing for no more than two customized bullets. He aimed again, but no, there was Crane in his way. The man had gotten back to his feet and apparently hadn't had enough of the fight just yet.
That worked for Edward too. "Let's get out of here, Tetch!" He ordered and reached for the handle of the metal briefcase with their stolen goods. If the two of them hurried up, perhaps they could make it back to the Wayne Tower and find another solution to their current Bat-problem.
"No! Don't go! We can't leave Scarecrow!" Mad Hatter protested and grabbed the briefcase, struggling to snatch it from Riddler's hand.
Confused by this action, Edward let go of the handle. The only logical solution was to keep away from the Dark Knight long enough for the mind-controlled zombies to get here and help them. Tetch, apparently, had a different idea because he took the metal briefcase and... Riddler could barely believe his eyes – this idiot actually rushed at the Bat, trying to smack him with their priceless loot!
Before Jervis could do so, Batman kicked at his ankle. Hatter fell to the ground, face first, losing both the briefcase and his own hat in the process. A second later, the Dark Knight's heavy boot flattened the unfortunate top-hat, crushing the mind-control band installed inside it. Jervis, spread on the concrete, let out a sorrowful cry – there would be no help coming to their rescue, they were on their own.
Scarecrow growled in frustration, this teamwork was giving him more trouble than doing good. His two allies proved themselves to be pretty useless in close combat and he couldn't even use his toxin without infecting Tetch and Nygma along with the Bat.
He swung his scythe yet again, its razor-sharp blade almost invisible in the darkness, but Batman could see it just fine. There were sparks when the metal collided with concrete.
Hatter yelped as he noticed how dangerously close to his neck the blade had landed.
"Out of my way!" Jonathan hissed and Jervis obediently rolled to the side.
Scarecrow kept going, this time almost getting Bat's right thigh. The bat-suit got torn where the blade scratched the leg but there was no fountain of blood, no scream of pain. Crane knew he needed to try harder.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Nygma aiming with the cane. He quickly realized what was about to happen and instead of moving forward, he jumped back. The bullet hit a rusty shop sign, making it fall down, right on Batman's head. Of course, an old shop sign was not heavy enough to knock out or hurt the Caped Crusader – it slowed him down, however, dazing him for a split second. And that was their chance! All three rogues realized it at the very same moment.
They all came at him – Scarecrow with his scythe, Riddler with his cane, and Mad Hatter with his bare fists. Then, Batman did something they really should have expected. He pulled a small, silver marble from his utility belt and tossed it to the ground. A cloud of thick, white smoke exploded into the air, making it impossible to see anything at all.
Jonathan wanted to back off but it was too late to stop now. His scythe was already in motion. The blade cut through the smoke with a quiet whiz until it met with soft flesh and embedded itself in a solid bone. He didn't have to wait for the smokescreen to fade since the short, high-pitched "gaah!" was enough to let Crane know what he had done.
It was not Batman whom he had hit – no, Batman wouldn't sound like that. Jonathan froze in place, hands tightening on his weapon. The smoke started to dissolve and soon, they were all able to see the result of the fight.
The tip of Scarecrow's scythe was buried deep in Hatter's left shoulder. The blade got stuck in his collarbone, which probably had saved the little man from losing his left arm completely. As gruesome as this injury looked, with the scythe sticking out of the body, the blood wasn't oozing too rapidly and Jervis was still able to stand on his own feet.
Tetch clutched at his shoulder, his eyes wide, staring right at Jonathan with a silent question.
"Crane, don't!" Batman shouted, predicting Scarecrow's next decision.
Ignoring the warning, Professor Crane pulled the scythe out with a forceful motion.
Hatter cried out, blood erupted from his wound and Batman had to react fast. In no time, he was next to Tetch, laying him down and trying to stop the intense bleeding. His right glove was pressed to the open wound, his left – searching for something in his utility belt.
Scarecrow stood there, towering over the two men, looking like a Grim Reaper's incarnation. When his lethal weapon slowly rose above his head, Riddler could already tell how all this would end.
This whole fight – it had been a game of chess, Edward could see that now. They had been making moves, forcing Batman to attack, waiting for the right moment to finally checkmate him. And here it was – their opportunity, their great victory for the taking! With the Bat kneeling over Tetch and playing the hero, having his hands full; it seemed almost too easy to cut his stupid head off. All it would take was a single swing of Crane's scythe. Such a shame that Mad Hatter would most likely bleed out soon after – still, no game could be won without sacrificing some pieces, and this was really a small price to pay for killing the famous Dark Knight.
The blade was about to fall. Riddler held his breath in anticipation.
Then, Scarecrow paused.
"...briefcase," the raspy voice came from under that ridiculous burlap sack which Crane wore over his head. Edward heard him but didn't understand. Where was the decapitation? "Nygma! The briefcase!" Scarecrow repeated angrily.
"Just do it!" Riddler demanded. "Kill him and..."
"Take the briefcase and go!"
Edward felt the urge to protest but Crane cast him a warning glance. As much as he desired to stay and witness the grand finale, he knew there was no time to waste. He huffed in irritation, leaped over Batman and Tetch, and rushed down the alley to the getaway car. With Scarecrow still aiming at the Caped Crusader's neck, there was no one to stop him from escaping. If Crane didn't hurry up... Well, too bad – the loot was in Riddler's hands, so he had won this game already.
As he reached the car, he saw Scarecrow running his direction. Starting the engine, he waited for the other rogue to get in. The door slammed shut.
"Did you do it?" Riddler's voice was trembling with excitement. Tires screeched as he sped up, getting the car out of the alley with a sharp turn. "Did you kill the Bat? Tell me! I need to know!"
Crane was suspiciously quiet. He tossed his scythe roughly to the backseat, blood was dripping from the blade onto the upholstery.
"I need to know," Edward insisted. He took a left turn, into Martin St.
Scarecrow was silently watching the road, either pondering on the answer or ignoring Riddler on purpose, simply to annoy him. After they passed Grand Ave, the man inhaled audibly. "Won't you ask about Tetch?" He inquired.
"Is he dead?"
"And what do you think?"
With the current lack of traffic lights, the streets of Gotham would have normally been a pure survival game – luckily, at this hour there were not so many cars around. Edward could drive fast. He was heading North, to their temporary hideout.
"I think, he was a necessary sacrifice," he commented calmly, trying to be as tactful as possible under these circumstances. "Nevertheless, I'm sorry for your..."
"You are not," Crane basically barked it out, not letting him finish the sentence. "Don't pretend to be sorry, when I can see that, in fact, you couldn't care less. You showed up uninvited, talked Jervis and me into helping you, and then you used us like pawns to get rid of Batman! What is this, some sort of revenge for what I said?"
"Excuse me?" Riddler snapped back. "I offered you two a perfectly good plan, and you both agreed, knowing the risk. I didn't force you to join me! As a matter of fact, I could have stolen that," he pointed at the briefcase under Scarecrow's seat, "...myself. I've never needed any of you. I don't need anybody!"
"Then why did you even ask to team up?!"
"Because it's not fun if I do it alone!"
"Oh, so I hope it was fun," Crane snarled, "because it's the last time we were ever doing a heist with you!"
"Wait." Edward blinked, not sure if he had gotten that right. "We? Is Tetch...? Is Batman ALIVE?!"
The sound of something heavy hitting the roof of their car pretty much answered that question. Riddler yelped in surprise, Scarecrow reached for the scythe. The window on the driver's side burst into pieces and a gloved hand came from outside to grab the wheel.
Edward tried to fight against the intruder but lost control of the vehicle. At this speed, the car went into rapid spinning, the moment he slammed on the breaks. Crane got shoved to the side and bumped his head hard on the remaining window. Batman didn't let go of the wheel, they were about to crash.
The car fell off the road, plowed into a hydrant and finally rolled over.
Dangling upside down, trapped in his seat-belts, Edward was glad to be alive. The blood in his ears was pounding like crazy, he didn't hear the footsteps, nor the sound of the mangled car door being ripped off. It was only when Batman's gloved hand pulled him out of the wreck, that he knew it was over and they had lost.
"I told you, you're going back to Arkham. All three of you," the Dark Knight said without a hint of sarcasm.
-#-
The hospital wing was so damn bright, the obnoxious LED-lights gave him a headache almost immediately after he had come to. Professor Crane had been here before, so he knew exactly where he was, and why. What he didn't know was, how long he had been out.
"Jonathan!" A familiar voice, tainted with a thick British accent, greeted him from the opposite side of the hospital screen separating their beds. "Are you alright? It was quite a night! Oh, how I wonder what happened after the fight!"
"Hello, Jervis," Scarecrow mumbled weakly, trying to turn to face the curtain. He noticed his head was wrapped tightly in bandages. He wanted to examine the injury but his hands were strapped to the bed – a standard procedure in Arkham. "I'm fine. I've been in a car accident. But at least it spared me the beating from Batman."
"Lucky you." Yet another familiar voice popped out in the room, coming from behind the screen on Crane's other side. "Next time, I need to remember not to use my seat-belts, so the Bat won't bother to knock me out with his fist," Nygma sounded as bitter as a taste of blood in Jonathan's mouth but the sheer fact that he could talk at all, meant the man was still in one piece. "Speaking of which, how come you didn't cut Batman's head off when you had the chance, Crane? I don't understand! You had him at your mercy. It is your fault that we lost!"
Nygma went on with his petty accusations and Jonathan really wished he was still unconscious.
Yes, he might have caused their defeat but at least he made his call and lost on his own terms. Edward would probably not understand him but winning was not always worth the sacrifice.