I said I'd have another chapter in two weeks, and here I am several months later. I don't have any excuses. Just sincere apologies and hope that this chapter won't suck (which it probably will; the muse, she has left me).

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, the setting, anything. That's why I'm on fanfiction.

Chapter 4:

The Doll and the Penguin

Hester-Mae had to admit, the day out with her mother had been nice. She had never been anywhere more than thirty miles away from Arlen, making Gotham the most amazing place she had ever been. Wayne Tower had been unbelievably tall. When they were standing outside she had leaned back and tilted her head back as far as it would go and she still could not see the top. They let people ride the elevator to the top floor. She had stood near a window and pressed her forehead against the glass. She almost felt as if she were flying. Other than Wayne Tower, they had not really gone anywhere. They had mostly just walked around. Walking around had been more than enough. Despite its reputation, the city actually was pretty beautiful in a dark, overbearing sort of way. Well, she thought it was.

And I'm going to rule over everything, she thought. Well, me and Jonathan are going to rule over everything.

She began to worry slightly when she noticed that the sun was getting too low for comfort. It wasn't that she was worried that she and her mother would be robbed, admittedly though that was a slight worry, but that she would miss her meeting with Jonathan. Would he be angry if she were late? Would he understand that she had not wanted to be late? She hoped that he would understand and not be mad at her. She loved him very much and hoped that he would not hate her. Not that he would for something small, but she did not want to take chances. He was her only friend in the world.

She lightly tugged on her mother's sleeve, "Hey, it's gettin' a little late. Can we head back?"

Karen held her palm over her eyes to shield them from the sun, "Well, what do ya know, it is. Good idea, Baby-Mae."

Ignoring her daughter's usual, "Don't call me that!" Karen took Hester-Mae's hand and they headed back to their hotel. The girl pulled the hood of her red sweatshirt over her head as they headed back, not liking at all how obvious it was that she was nowhere near in the same league as the other patrons of the hotel. They were probably all making fun of her and her mother when they were not looking like everyone always did.

It doesn't matter. I'll be Queen Goddess over all of them eventually. Jonathan said so. No one will ever make fun of me or Mom again.

She turned to her mother, "Remember that girl from earlier? She asked me if I could go to a movie with her later. Can I, please?"

Karen looked surprised, "Huh? Oh, I dunno, sweetie. It's a big city and there's scary people around. I don't know if I should let you go out by yourself."

"It's not by myself; it's with that girl and her folks! I'll be fine with her. She's from around here and I think her parents have, like, bodyguards and stuff. Please? She's the only new friend I've made in forever and I don't want to lose her the day I got her."

Karen's face softened, "Ah geez, hon. I don't want to make you lose your new friend. I know how hard it's been for you at school and home. I know you don't think I do, but I do."

She thought for a moment, "Look, if you let me meet this friend of yours and I find out the time the movie starts and ends I'll let you go, OK?"

Hester-Mae blinked. Well, that was easy. Karen had always been an extremely lenient parent, probably because her own mother and grandmother had been extremely controlling, but she had still been expecting more resistance than that. Not that she was complaining. Briefly, she wondered what she would do if Karen had refused. Run away, hope Jonathan would send some thugs to kidnap her, steal some stuff and put a Scarecrow signal in sky, all of the above? She really didn't know. It didn't matter. He would have thought of something. He always did when she needed help.

When they got back to their room Hester-Mae immediately flopped down onto her bed. Her heart was hammering so rapidly she swore she could feel it hitting her ribs. Her breaths were also coming in faster than normal. This was the most excited she had ever been. She could barely even think straight. After years and years, she was finally meeting her brother! She tried in vain to suppress an eager giggle.

"What're you laughing at, Baby-Mae?"

"Nothing, Mom. And—!"

"Stop calling you that, I know," Karen walked over to the bed to sit by her daughter, "So, when's your friend coming over? I'm going to have to talk with her before I let you go anywhere with her, especially in a city like this."

Hester-Mae flipped onto her stomach and placed her head into her hands, "I dunno. Like, seven-ish. Whenever it's time to go to the movie, I guess."

"What are you two seeing?"

"Mm, I think it's a sci-fi flick. Probably a remake."

"You gonna be scared going out with a new friend in the big city?"

The girl buried her face in a pillow, "I'll be fine, Mom. Stop treating me like a baby."

Karen ruffled her hair, "Sorry, honey. It's just that you are my baby and I want to make sure you're going to be OK."

"I'll be just fine," Jonathan'll always take care of me.

"If you say so," Karen kept running her fingers through Hester-Mae's hair, letting the strands fall against her daughter's head. The girl lightly swatted the hand away, not wanting her hair to be too messed up. Not today. She quickly picked herself up from the bed to search for a brush. Finding one, she looked for a mirror. She should look good. Or, at the very least, she shouldn't look like she had just crawled out of bed. Wincing as the brush tugged on every snag and tangle, she managed to make her hair look less like a rat's nest. She hoped. Her hand shook as she placed the brush down. She was so nervous. She shouldn't be, she knew. Jonathan would love her no matter how she looked, right? He liked her even when everybody in school picked on her for how she looked or who her mom was currently dating. He wouldn't care if she didn't look perfect. But he was the only person who was always there for her and if he left her for whatever reason…

No. Must not think like that.

"Nervous about going out with a friend?" Karen asked, "You've never done this before, have you? Ah, geez, I didn't mean nothing by it, hon. I've never really gone out with a friend either. Boyfriends, yeah, but I never really had friends either and…"

Hester-Mae listened on and off to her mother's old stories. She didn't really care what her mother was talking about, but having some level of background noise was helpful. She'd never been this jittery.

On the other side of the hotel, someone else was having jitters as well.

Mary Dahl didn't see why she should be the one who had to babysit little baby Scarecrow while the real thing was breaking out of Arkham. Yes, make the one with the medical condition (that was no doubt aided by hormone pills from her greedy stage parents) lure in the brat because aw, don't she look precious? No one could ever suspect her.

She was not comfortable with this. Not at all. The only time she had ever committed any sort of crime was for personal revenge against her former costars. She wasn't one of Gotham's career crazies. She didn't blow up hospitals or kidnap mayors for the fun of it. She'd served her time, recognized that she had to make severe changes in her life, and tried to move on. She still regularly dined at the Iceberg Lounge, but in her defense the food was some of the best in the city and Cobblepot knew damn well she was not kidding when she said she was forty-six. She had never even met Scarecrow before he had asked -threatened- her to lure his sister away from their mother.

Mary would bet all the money she had ever earned from Love That Baby that the poor girl was not even his sister. To hell with how she looked, she couldn't really be his sister. People like Scarecrow did not have sisters. They spawned out of a dank pit somewhere under the Narrows and the closest things they had to siblings were fellow crazy people like Poison Ivy or Two-Face. Why in hell Scarecrow wanted the kid, she hoped she would never find out.

She looked at her room's clock. 6:45. Right then. Fifteen minutes until she had to grab the kid and get out of Dodge. She was still trying to think about what she would tell the mother. From what little Scarecrow had told her, she wasn't very bright and she wouldn't have a lot of trouble in convincing her to let the kid go, but she was still worried about how long it would take until the mother suspected something was up and decided to call the cops and have the big bad Bat hunt her down. Never fun.

She was still worrying even as she approached the room the kid and her mother were in. Two of her people, Carol and Desmond, were posing as her parents. It was slightly humiliating, considering that she had at least a good fifteen years on the two of them, but they were useful when she wanted to go out in public without all of the oh-are-you-lost-little-girl's.

The mother didn't look quite as Mary had thought she would. Mary had pictured a female Crane with long hair and instead it had turned out that Mama Scarecrow actually looked at least a little normal. Curled hair reaching the shoulders and dyed black to hide the gray, eyes that were actually an ordinary human color instead of Crane's rape-your-soul ice blue or the brat's unnaturally bright teal; really the most Scarecrow-esque thing about her was that she was fairly thin and even then it was a normal thin instead of Crane's too little body stretched out over too much length.

The mother—Karen had been friendly enough. Mary thought it would have been impossible to convince any parent to let their kid go off with a near stranger in Gotham, but apparently Karen had yet to realize that she wasn't in Bumfuck, Georgia anymore. Maybe she really was as stupid as Scarecrow claimed. Carol and Desmond had done their jobs perfectly. They had chatted casually with Karen as if they really were just going to the movies and not abducting the poor woman's daughter to hand over to one of Gotham's most feared psychopaths. They had smiled, told Karen how happy they were that their "precious baby doll" had made a friend so quickly, that Hester-Mae was such a nice girl, and that they promised to take very good care of her and bring her right back to the room once the movie was over. Still, as convincing in the roles of Mary's parents as they were, Mary just could not get over how it should have been much harder for them to convince Karen to let her eleven-year-old child go anywhere with strange people in the most crime-ridden and corrupt city on the face of the planet. She honestly felt bad about taking advantage of a woman who felt almost more like a child than the actual child.

Speaking of which, the annoying little monster had been practically bouncing in her seat in unrestrained excitement all the while the adults, minus Mary as always, had been talking. She was already set to go in a red hooded sweatshirt that clashed horrifically with everything else she was wearing. Mary swore she would ask Scarecrow to give the kid a colorblindness test. That is, if she could work up the courage. Unlikely. Mary had to nudge her in the ribs to get her to calm down just a little bit. If being a normal child meant being that annoying, Mary was almost glad that she had never had a real childhood.

After what felt like an eternity to Mary, Karen got up to kiss her daughter on both cheeks, much to the girl's protest, and reminded her to come straight back once the show was over. The girl practically ran toward the door and out into the hallway, Mary and her bodyguards hurrying after. Mary was able to grab the hem of her sweatshirt after a spectacular burst of speed that left her near breathless.

"Don't—*huff huff*—run—*wheeze *—off!"

The girl stumbled a little and turned back to glare at the blonde, "You sound like an old lady."

Mary did her best to inhale and exhale slowly until she was breathing almost normally again, "I am an old lady, you little brat. Don't they still teach you to respect your elders down in the bowels of whatever hole in Georgia you crawled from?"

"Yeah, but I don't care what they taught me 'cause I hate everyone in Arlen and I don't have to pay attention to nothing they said no more. I only have to listen to what Jonathan says. He's the only person I respect now."

Mary scoffed. The girl leaked snotty little brat from every pore. Bad combination of an overly permissive mother and a presumably creepily indulgent brother, "Well, if you ever want to meet Jonathan at all, you're going to have to do everything I say until you actually see him and you're out of my hair. Got that?"

The girl and the woman in a girl's body glared at each other for a few seconds. Carol and Desmond stood staring at the two, unsure of what to do. The tension was thankfully broken by Karen suddenly opening the door. All four were startled and spun around to look at her.

"Oh, were you all talking? Sorry! Baby-Mae forgot something," ignoring the girl's groan of annoyance at her hated pet name, Karen held up a small pink hair clip, "Here you go! Almost left without it!"

As the girl reached up to take it from her mother, Karen pulled it back, "Oh, no. Let me."

She softly smoothed back her daughter's dry hair, fingers lovingly tracing through the almost straw-like strands. After gently sliding the clip into place, she kept her hands on the girl's face just a little while longer, smoothing away imaginary stray wisps of hair. Although the kid wasn't looking, her eyes were fixed firmly on her feet in an attempt to hide her embarrassment, Mary could see that Karen almost looked sad despite her smile.

"You be safe, OK?"

"Yes, Mama."

"And you come straight back here, now."

"Mm."

Karen wrapped her arms around the girl and pulled her to her chest, "Love you, Baby-Mae. So glad you got a friend."

The girl squirmed, trying to get out of her mother's arms, "Alright, alright! Lemme go! You're embarrassing me in front of my new friend!"

Karen obeyed her daughter's wish and backed away. She looked toward Mary and her hired parents, "You keep her safe."

Carol and Desmond nodded cheerfully and gave their assurances while Mary did her best to quash down a slowly rising bubble of guilt. It was not the time to feel bad about bratty little kids. It was the time to save her own ass. Later, she'd donate a couple grand to some children's fund to save the lives of some kids who were not Scarecrow spawn and feel better. For now, she just had to get the kid to the meeting point, hand her over, and forget the whole mess ever happened.

Karen stared at her daughter for a few seconds longer before giving a final wave and slowly going back to the room and closing the door. The girl carefully watched the door for a couple of moments to make sure that her mother would not be surprising the group again. After a too-long pause, she sighed in relief.

"OK," she said, her voice exasperated, "Can we go now?"

Oswald Cobblepot ran the premier dining experience in all of Gotham if not the entire tri-state area and he very much wanted to keep it that way, thank you. The Iceberg Lounge gave him prestige, respect, wealth, and renown that he had never known even during his time as one of Gotham's top costumed crime bosses. He put in hours of effort making sure that only the best chefs were hired and that every meal that they prepared was absolutely exquisite, that the staff was prompt and polite to a fault, that there was an abundance of the finest ingredients and beverages, and most importantly that there was not the slightest hint of any connections to his former life. True, the occasional "old colleague" would drop in for dinner or a few drinks, but as long as they were paying (no counterfeited money, of course), didn't wear their costumes, and didn't involve him in any unsavory activities, then there was no harm. Tonight, however, was different.

Despite his considerable efforts to make the Lounge a place of elegance and class, he in no way cared to make his night club a "family" restaurant. There was nothing that went on in the Lounge that would make it illegal for minors to enter (gracious, no) and older teenagers of a wealthier persuasion were not an uncommon sight, but for the most part the Lounge catered to an overwhelmingly adult clientele. A group that contained two preteen girls, the taller of whom was extremely underdressed for the occasion, would stand out like a sore thumb in his Lounge. If they had appeared in the dining area proper, they would have garnered, or at least the tall and scrawny girl would have garnered, more than a few stares or perhaps even (heaven forbid) comments on how the Lounge's star must be falling to have customers like that.

Luckily for him, they were waiting at the staff entrance as he had instructed. He didn't like this. He had spent years salvaging his reputation and setting himself up as a gentleman who had severed all ties to a distasteful past. If anyone were to find out about this, his reputation would be in tatters and the Bat would hound him as if he were a cursed Baskerville. Alas, he hadn't any choice. It was either this or have his beloved Lounge flooded with fear toxin at least once a week for the rest of his days. Of all of the places for the freak to have a belated family reunion, why did it have to be his place of business?

The four had crammed themselves into a corner, keeping away from the bustle of the chefs (for which Oswald felt a small twinge of gratitude though towards whom he did not know). The blonde shorter girl waved at him as he entered the kitchen and wearily stated, "Thanks for not making me do this alone, Ozzy. Can you get me a thing of cognac? My nerves are a little fried."

Her nerves were fries, ha. Mary Dahl, the perpetually youthful, much to her ire, former TV star and criminal in her own right who was now one of his regulars. Most likely because he knew better than to card her. He sighed, "Maybe later when you're a proper customer. For now let's just wait for this all to be over."

He glanced at his current "charge." She was not a pleasant sight. Her freckled face might have been considered cute if not for her large, crooked nose that looked horrible on a child and even more crooked teeth. By her clothes he guessed that she did not come from much money but honestly, couldn't her mother have at least gotten the poor thing braces? Not to mention those appallingly bright eyes that seemed to unnervingly pierce into him. Thankfully they were not quite as intense as those belonging to her ghastly brother, who had more or less weaponized his penetrating ice blue gaze. Grotesquely long and thin fingers attached to hands that looked more like flesh-colored spiders than human appendages danced horrifically with one another as those hideously bright eyes darted about the room. The creature was nervous. Good. If he and Miss Dahl had to be uncomfortable, then why should the brat be any better?

Cobblepot looked at his watch. 7:27. Thirteen minutes. Just thirteen minutes and the thing would be gone and the Lounge would be safe. He glanced at her. She was chewing on her nails. Disgusting. And she was staring at him. Those horrible too-large, too-bright eyes were staring at him.

He grimaced, "Do you need something, child?"

The eyes widened even more as the head they were bulging from shook slightly and the mouth below them garbled out something that might have started out as a "No, thank you," in the brain but in the journey to the vocal cords had repugnantly metamorphosed into a barely audible "Nothagyeh."

Miss Dahl piped up, "Can you believe this is the same kid who wouldn't shut up on the ride here? Be happy she's clammed up now, Ozzy. You wouldn't believe how annoying she can get."

It glared at Miss Dahl and stuck out her tongue. Oh, the charming repartee of the juvenile.

He honestly couldn't understand what the Scarecrow would want with the child. Perhaps using the last in the line of his hated relatives as a guinea pig would give him his revenge on his past. Perhaps he wanted a henchgirl at long last and had settled for his backwoods hick of a baby sister out of sheer desperation. Perhaps he had finally flipped his lid for good and thought that this thing would be an ideal apprentice to take on the mantle of Scarecrow and carry on the legacy. Cobblepot didn't know, didn't want to know, and frankly didn't care at all as long as the both of them would stay out of his hair for the rest of his life.

He checked his watch again. 7:29. Damn it. Why did time slow down when one was miserable? Eleven minutes. Just eleven minutes. He could do this. He'd waited in the dark for Batman to find him and interrogate him for longer periods of time. This was nothing. He was a Cobblepot. Waiting was nothing he could not handle.

Hester-Mae had thought that she had the jitters earlier in the hotel room. What she felt then was nothing compared to what she felt in the kitchen. She wasn't nervous when she was driving with Mary and her two people over to what was the fanciest restaurant she had ever seen. She had spent most of that time talking about all the letters she had wrote to Jonathan and what he had written back, about how she was going to be the coolest super villain ever, and how she had to get her hair cut short because these bunch of jackasses in school led by that asshole Jayden had pinned her to a wall and cut off her right braid with a pocket knife and even cut her cheek a little while they were doing it for no good reason (OK, she had made fun of Jayden for thinking Destiny would ever look twice at him because she was all the way in eighth grade, but seriously). When she became a villain, everyone in Arlen would suffer first. Whole town, gone. And then the rest of Georgia for not nuking Arlen earlier for making them look bad. Yeah.

But now she wasn't in a car with a girl who looked just a little younger than her. She was in a hot, crowded professional kitchen like the ones on TV and neither the people rushing around or the short, fat guy with the weird nose—holy crap it was the freaking Penguin could he read minds oh please don't let him read minds—looked like anyone she could talk to.

It wasn't at all like how she imagined she would be meeting Jonathan. She had though they would go to a smoky criminal bar like the ones in the old gangster movies and then she'd be left by herself and then there would be Jonathan. Instead, she was in a claustrophobic, hot room that wasn't at all mysterious and cool and she wondered why Jonathan would pick here.

Maybe…

Maybe he wasn't coming.

Maybe this was all some joke. Some horrible, mean joke. He had just sent her here for a laugh. And maybe for her to be killed and cooked and served to one of the rich people in the restaurant. She fidgeted even more than she already had been doing. What was she doing here? All of a sudden she wanted to be home again. She missed her enormous bug collection that she had caught herself, she missed her ant farm, and she missed her books. She even missed her familiar, lumpy bed, the never-working air conditioner, and her mother's boyfriend of the week whats-his-name.

She was stupid to think anyone actually wanted to be around her. After all, he had pointed a gun at her head when she was only a baby, right? And besides, if no one at school liked her or cared when anything bad happened to her, why should Jonathan?

She sniffled a little and tried to hold back tears.

Don't be dumb, Mae, she consoled herself, He got you all this way. He wouldn't have done that if he didn't like you none. Stop worrying. You sound like Ruth does when her dad's five minutes late picking her up from school.

Her thoughts did little to make her feel better.

"So, when's he showin' up?" she tentatively whispered to Mary.

Mary sharply said, "I don't know," in a way that made Hester-Mae scowl. She was just asking a question. Rude.

She was starting to wish she hadn't brought a sweatshirt. It was so hot. Deciding not to have to deal with Mary again she looked at the Penguin (she still couldn't get over that one of Gotham's old big time bad guys was right there). He looked aggravated already and she wasn't sure it would be a good idea to get a guy like him pissed off and then get fed to a bunch of meat-eating penguins or something. But she was miserable and cooped up and some of the chefs and other people were staring at her and she hated hated hated when people stared at her and she wanted to rip all of their eyes out so they would stop and she had to get out now.

She barely audibly asked, "Um, Mr. Penguin?"

He swiveled to look at her, surprised that she had spoken. He quickly barked out, "What?"

Oh, damn. She hoped he wasn't really angry. If he was, he wouldn't hurt her because she had Jonathan, right? She hoped not. She knew she probably couldn't poison him or burn him like everyone else who hurt her.

"Well, it's really hot in here…" she said.

He raised an eyebrow and snidely replied, "It ought to be. It's a damn kitchen."

"Well, um," Spit it out, dumbass, "I was wondering if I could, ya know, step outside for just a minute?"

"Absolutely not. This whole ordeal is annoying and unpleasant enough without Spooky throwing a damned fit and gassing my restaurant because his new pet guinea pig went and got herself snatched up by some pervert," he said, his hand reaching up to rub his forehead.

She sniffed, "I can take care of myself."

"Maybe in whatever hole in Georgia you crawled out of, but not here."

Hester-Mae pouted and crossed her arms. Everyone except Jonathan thought she was either some little hellspawn or a baby. It wasn't fair. She stomped her foot and said, "Jonathan wouldn't let nothing happen to me. I can go out if I want!"

She immediately regretted losing her temper. This was not one of her stupid classmates that she could intimidate with her height. This was the Penguin. Who was currently glaring at her through his monocle. And could very much have her drowned in cement any time he wanted.

"Listen up, little girl," he said, "You're probably used to getting your way with your mommy and—God only knows why—that freak, but don't think that I'm like them. The only thing keeping you from ending up as the veal for tomorrow's menu is your abomination of a brother so if I were you I'd speak with just a little more respect. Understood?"

She quickly nodded as Mary groaned and rolled her eyes. She turned to Hester-Mae, "What he said. Seriously, girl. Don't make this worse than it is."

Hester-Mae looked down at the floor, avoiding everyone's eyes. This sucks. She hadn't been expecting this. She hadn't known what to expect, but it was not this. People were being mean to her again. Sure, it was just because they were probably hot and bored like she was, but still. Why had Jonathan chosen this place? Why couldn't he have snuck into the hotel room himself and then the two of them could have escaped through the window all cool and stuff? That would have been so much better.

Her eyes rapidly turned toward the back door of the kitchen when several loud knocks came from the other side. She looked at the others. The Penguin shrugged, "It's probably your guy. You answer it."

She softly moved towards the door. It would have been so much easier if everyone else hadn't been looking. Her fingers trembled as they reached for the knob. Slowly turning it, she felt her heart leap into her throat and block off her air flow. That was the only reason she could think of why she couldn't breathe. Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she gently pushed it open.

No one.

Letting out a large gust of air, she stepped out, looking around. She still could not see anyone. Shaking her head, she turned back towards the Penguin and Mary.

"I don't see nobody."

The Penguin scoffed and said, "Nonsense. No one knocks on my door for the fun of it. Look harder. Knowing Scarecrow, it's him and he's doing this on purpose."

She turned back to the door and again stepped out. The cold of the outside was in stark contrast to the hot, crowded kitchen. She wrapped her arms around herself. She knew Gotham would be colder than Arlen, but she hadn't expected this in May. Walking out a little further than before, she turned around when she heard the door behind her shut. Shaking from fear as well as cold, she softly called out, "Hello? Jonathan? That you?"

No answer.

She quickly walked back toward the door. As uncomfortable as it was in that stuffy kitchen, it was better than out in the cold with no one around. Her hand reached out to the knob, barely brushing it before a hand clamped down over her mouth. She let out a muffled shriek before her arms were held behind her back by the assailant's free arm. Her attacker dragged her thin, struggling body several yards away from the backdoor of the night club and pinned her to a wall.

"Gotcha."

Her eyes were wide with terror as she looked at the face of her captor. A large brim covered his face, only piercing ice-blue eyes and a wide grin showing. Under his hand, she gasped. She knew that face. She'd seen in in a million papers and on a million news stories. She even knew that low, hypnotic voice.

"Recognize me?"

His hands removed themselves as he stood back, grin widening further. Hester-Mae simply stared at the figure in disbelief. Her brain was only able to form one cohesive thought, a thought which faintly escaped from her lips.

"Jonathan?"

Very long A/N: Penguin's POV is very hard to write from. I'm not sure I got the right combination of the upper class and cultured gentleman (and humongous better-than-you snob) with the weary retired crime boss who's too old for this shit (and a bit of an asshole, insulting a not-so-little girl like that). I'm also not sure if Hester-Mae is a believable enough eleven-year-old. I'm trying to make her kind of intelligent for her age (if she wasn't at least a little bit I don't think Jonny would have anything to do with her) but lacking common sense and kind of annoying as well because while she's smart, she's still really an immature foulmouthed brat. Is she too annoying?

Horrorfana, welcome to the fandom! Becky Albright's from a oneshot comic called New Year's Evil: Scarecrow. The whole thing's on DeviantArt so you could read it there. It's really hard to find a copy of it (or else I'd have one). You might also want to check out the Batman: Haunted Knight collaboration between Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale which is in most bookstores that carry comic trades. It's got three Batman Halloween specials and Scarecrow's the feature villain in the longest one, naturally.

PS: Jonny's password from last chapter was the issue he premiered in: World's Finest Comics #3, Fall 1941. Not very original, but eh…