A man in a tattered Batman-esque outfit walked into the abandoned building. There was a drug deal already going down inside, waiting to be interrupted by the man. The man pulled a small canister out of his pocket, and opened the valve, letting the chemical free in the air. He laughed like the madman he was as the people around him collapsed in fear, each seeing things the stuff of nightmares. The man left them, still chuckling to himself. He walked down the street down to Crime Alley, and saw a robbery.

"What do we have here?" The man asked in a distorted voice, which caused the criminal to stop for now.

"Who are you?" the criminal asked.

"Why," the masked man replied, "you know who I am."

"Shit!" the criminal cried. "Go away!"

The Scarecrow laughed. "There is no escape from me!" he yelled in maniacal glee. "You know that, don't you?!"

"No, please!" More mad laughter. "Please! Leave me alone!"

"Why should I?"

"I'm doing this for my family. M-my daughter. She's sick."

"Should've thought of them before coming down here." The Scarecrow turned to the woman the criminal was robbing and said, "Leave. Unless you want to see me gas this man and get caught up in it in the process."

The woman left, and the Scarecrow walked up to the criminal and said in a hushed regular voice, "Leave, and pray you don't cross my path again." The criminal bolted almost instantly.

As his watch beeped, letting him know that it was almost dawn, he decided to return to the Scaremobile, which he hid in a tunnel he found shortly after the Batman died at the hands of the Joker, who, oddly enough, led a normal life afterwards. At least he did, until the Scarecrow became a vigilante. Now the Joker was madder than ever. And it was up to the Scarecrow to stop him before Gotham was destroyed. Anyway, Johnny got to the Scaremobile and drove to the Cranium, formerly the Batcave, underneath Stormcrow, formerly Wayne, Manor. He got out of the Scaremobile and changed.

He walked up the stairs into the Manor, and Alfred Pennyworth asked, "Why must you wear the mask and do the job of Master Bruce?"

"Because no one else will, Alfred."

"By the way, master John, I keep meaning to ask, why did you choose me to be your butler?"

"Because Crane Manor has always been your home. It would be a shame to evict you just because I moved in."

"You sound just like Master Thomas."

"Who?"

"Thomas Wayne. Bruce's father."

"He was a good man, I take it?"

"Quite. He was the best man in Gotham."

"A surgeon, if I remember correctly."

"Right. The best one, too."

"Right. I'm going to get ready for the Charity Ball that Miss Kane is hosting this afternoon."

"Yes, sir, Master John. Which car will you be taking?"

"The Tesla."

"Ah, a fine choice."

The middle-aged bachelor of Gotham went off to get ready, even injecting himself with a restorative he cooked up with Wayne Chem a few weeks ago. The restorative merely gives him the chemical equivalent of a good eight hours of sleep. Some nights, like when partying with Bane and Zsasz, he gives himself a different restorative that heals wounds and, most of the time, leaves no scarred tissue. When he was first starting out, he had redecorated the Batcave as the Cranium (it took him a few days to come up with the name), the Bat-gadgets as the Scarecrow-themed gadgets (for example, the Scare-computer and the Crow-talon), sold the batarangs on the black market, and put in a large order of birdarangs from Lucius Fox to continue the Scarecrow theme.

He wore his black tuxedo and diamond cufflinks to the Charity Ball, and there he met:

"Selina Kyle."

"Jimmy Stormcrow," he introduced himself. "It's always a pleasure to make the acquaintance of such a panther."

"I thought a scarecrow such as yourself would be too headless to show your face at these kinds of events." She responded.

"How about we go somewhere private?"

"By all means." And they left the area for an empty bedroom.

When they got there, John closed the door, turned to Ms. Kyle, and said, "I know you're Catwoman."

"And I know you're actually Jonathan Crane. There's no point in hiding from me."

"How did you-"

"A small scratch above your left eye that I gave you about a year and a half back."

"I forgot about that. So, I'll ask you the same thing I ask all of Bruce's former allies. Will you be my ally as I clean up Gotham's streets?"

"And why should I help you?" she asked him slyly, slowly circling him as she spoke.

"Because I cooked up a little something I hope can bring Bruce back, the only side effect being his mind could be a bit shattered."

"Shattered?" she asked in confusion, stopping her circling.

"Shattered, but moldable."

"Meaning I could make him think that he and I are married?" She put her hands up to her chest in a hopeful manner when she said this.

"Probably. I don't know the effects this chemical will have on the dead, but on the living, it fixes the body up without any scarring save fatal injuries."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The only test subject for these experiments was me."

"But you're still here."

"Yes. That's because I always keep a vial of the restorative on me at all times."

"But You don't have a vial on you."

"Look deeply into my eyes." She did so, and she noticed something.

"I see, I think, a microchip."

"That 'microchip' is a nanovial of my restorative. Since all ingredients of the restorative can be found in the human body, I store a self-refilling vial inside my body."

"Clever boy. I want me one of those."

"Unfortunately, installing said nanovial causes permanent retinal damage, so my eye was replaced with a synthetic one."

"Anything else you want to tell me?"

"Yes. My other eye has a different restorative in it, so it, too, is synthetic."

"Meow. I'll work with you, but," she grabbed his collar as she spoke, "you have to give me some of those 'restorative nanovials' once a month."

"Deal."

"What?"

"I accept your request. How big of a shipment?"

"Um, a gallon would do." She was so obviously confused as to what was happening.

"So 3.78 liters. Alright, and would you like a syringe with which to administer the restoratives?"

"Yes, please." She was still wondering why he was acting this way.

"And what day would you like the shipments to be made?"

"The fourth of each month would be good."

"Very well. The terms are settled. Hone in on the signal when I call you, please." He handed her a beautiful bracelet as he spoke. "I look forward to working with you, Miss Kyle."

"Yeah, you, too." She was still a bit dazed as he left. Johnny, on the other hand, was very pleased with himself that he managed to get Catwoman confused just by talking simple business with her.

Later that week, he decided to try recruiting Fries to his side.

"No. I won't do it," Victor replied, obviously busy with other work. "Every boss in the underworld knows that it was you who took up the mantle, so none of us are willing to help."

"Unless I allow you to work in the Cryogenics Department."

Victor stopped working and turned to John. "Are you serious?"

"Yes, I am."

"And Nora?"

"She'll be moved to a secure corner of your workspace, where you'll be permitted to perform personal research and safe experimentation in addition to the work assigned to you by my staff."

"What would my clearance level be?"

"I have already informed the Cryogenics Department that you were given class-B clearance and were given a place on the Board of Directors. All you have to do is take this ID card from my hand, make arrangements for your belongings and wife to be moved, and log in to Stormcrow Enterprises." As he said this, he pulled out a key card and held it out invitingly.

"Wait-why only class-B clearance if I'm on the Board?"

"Because you'll be head of the Cryogenics Department, and you don't have to come to the meetings."

"Then why am I even on the Board?"

"I think your opinion would be insightful, from one scientist to another."

Victor took the card and asked, "When's my first day?"

"The day after you have Nora in your workspace."

"Thank you for this opportunity."

"No, thank you. It's a pleasure doing business with you."

Next up was Professor Strange. This one would be a little difficult.

"Why would you want him to be the first deceased human subject?" Teddy, an employee in R&D, asked.

"I have my reasons. Begin the experiment."

"Yes, sir, Mr. Stormcrow," Lucius Fox said.

The restorative was administered to Strange via gaseous dispersion. After half an hour, Strange opened his eyes before bolting upright.

"Why am I at Wayne Enterprises?" he asked in a deep, strong voice that had a commanding feel.

"What's the last thing you remember, professor Strange?" John asked him.

"I remember activating Protocol 11 right before dying."

"And now you live."

"What division am I in? I recognize Mr. Fox, but I do not believe I remember you working here."

"You are in Human Testing Chamber 152 of Stormcrow Chem R&D."

"Stormcrow? I assume, Mr. Crane, that you are the new CEO."

"Indeed I am, but I haven't gone by that name since the last CEO died."

"And how did that happen?"

"He gave Joker the cure before himself, killing him."

"Cure?"

"Joker poisoned Bruce Wayne with a sample of his blood. He needed a cure in order to continue living. He gave that cure to Joker, leading to his own demise."

"How sad. My condolences. I have but one question, Mr…. Stormcrow."

"And what would that be?"

"Why did you revive me, and how?"

"How is answered by, 'with a restorative that was derived from the Lazarus Pit'. Why is because I needed you alive in order to ask you my question."

"And what would that be?"

"Would you like to work for me as a high-level employee?"

"Why would I do that?"

"Because the restorative I used on you doesn't seem to have affected your mental state, unlike the Lazarus Pit. I need more tests done, but none of us have the time."

"I see. I assume you can just as well?"

"Indeed I can. These were manufactured by StormcrowTech, after all."

Teddy joined in on their conversation. "I'm sorry, what are you talking about?"

John turned to him. "My eyes."

"Why would your eyes be manufactured?"

"Look closely, further into the pupil."

"A nanovial?"

"Yes."

"Of what?"

"This restorative as well as another one."

"Why? What do you do that requires multiple restoratives?" Strange asked.

John turned back to him. "In case I don't get any sleep one night, and in case I get kidnapped and tortured."

"Given who you are, I wouldn't worry about the latter."

"Anyway, are you in?"

"On one condition."

"What's that?"

"I get to perform the periodic psych-evaluations of all employees."

"That's fine, as long as you have another psych-evaluator with you - awake - to make sure that you're not giving your usual BS evaluation that you give to get a test subject."

"Do I get to choose my assistant?"

"Why~?" he asked cautiously.

"I have my reasons."

With further caution, Jimmy replied, "Fine, but as long as they're not TYGER."

"Alr—"

"And they have an active license."

Strange almost pouted. "Fine."