Chapter Three

It had taken very little time, and yet quite a bit of persuasion to find the correct shipping yard. Nightwing stood atop a nearby building, watching for any signs of life. He now regretted not asking who this very specific buyer was. However, doubtless that would have been pushing his luck anyway. Besides, Nightwing was confident he could find the name he wanted by the end of the night.

As dusk closed in, so did a dark figure, the afterimage of his silhouette with the sunset surrounding it, fading from memory. The warehouse was already filled with shadows by the time Nightwing entered it through a window set high above the ground. Walking along a beam, he surveyed the scene below, searching for the right opportunity to insert himself into the conversation.

"There's no way."

"I'm telling you, that's what I heard."

"The boss was only joking you."

"I don't think so."

"Then the boss is insane."

A new voice came from the darkness, crisp and calm. "Insane? Now what makes you say that?"

"Who's there?" The man was beginning to show signs of apprehension, however he wasn't nearly as scared as he should have been.

A figure stepped from the shadows, tall and thin with a mask over his face like that of a scarecrow. "He is not insane. His ways are different from yours, that much is certain. However, he is destined to bring Gotham into a new era."

"A time of madness you mean. You must be as crazy as him."

"Oh?"

"Why else would you wear a mask? Especially a mask like that."

"I am his emissary and will follow his instructions in a similar fashion to the way he operates."

"You've got a lot of big words."

"There is even more behind my words than what you hear."

There were four men below. One was the scarecrow. The other two were saying nothing, afraid of provoking this stranger. However, the other man was obviously frustrated and annoyed.

"So tell me this. Why don't we ever see the boss, huh? Why does he never come around?"

"Why would he deal with a lowlife such as you? He gives me his instructions and I pass them on to you."

"That's another thing. I've never seen you before either. How do I know you're really in charge?"

"Because I am."

What happened next, Nightwing couldn't see clearly. However, the man screamed and lay on the floor, his hands covering his face. The other two men were backing away, a split second away from running. However, they were stopped by the man in the mask, authority evident in his voice after his display of power, whatever it had been.

"You can't leave just yet. Finish unloading these crates. After that you must stand and guard them. You won't be leaving for quite some time, I'm afraid."

"What about…?" one man began, glancing at his companion, who was whimpering on the ground.

"Leave him."

Without another word, the scarecrow turned and left, his steps echoing through the large, nearly empty room. His footsteps slowly died away and the men turned to each other with fear in their eyes before returning to their work.

Nightwing hooked his grappling hook around the beam he stood upon and slipped silently down behind a pile of crates, leaving the rope swinging in the air. From the shadows leapt a shadowy demon, the fear already in the ruffian's eyes increasing ten fold as his mouth opened to scream, though no sound made it from his throat. His companion turned at the sound of the man hitting the concrete, but wasn't quick enough to stop himself falling to the ground, his legs swept out from beneath him. A dark boot collided with his skull and unconsciousness found him, darkness covering his vision and his mind. Nightwing stood between his two fallen enemies, pausing only a moment to savor his swift triumph. A whimper drew his attention and he walked over to the man rocking back and forth and crouched down beside him. The thug hadn't even noticed the demise of his fellows.

"What did he do?"

There was no response.

"The scarecrow. Who is he?"

It was like the man couldn't hear him. Like he didn't even know he was there.

"What did he do to you?"
Frustration filled him and Nightwing tore one of the man's hands away from his face. What he saw was a man completely unhinged, a wild look in his eye and fear in every line of his face. Nightwing drew back, repulsed and, dare he admit it, slightly unnerved.

"Scarecrow… Scarecrow…"

With a growl, Nightwing grabbed the man by the throat and slammed him into the side of the wall, the crash echoing off the walls.

"Who is the scarecrow? What has he done?"

"Run! Hide! Run! Scarecrow!"

Nightwing dropped the man and spun around, his eyes wide with terror, expecting to see Scarecrow behind him. But there was no one. The man was utterly mad, his mind seeing things that weren't really there. Insanity had come over him in the blink of an eye while Nightwing had watched and yet he could not determine how it had been done. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing; all too aware of how much fear had taken hold of him in the short time he had been here. Fear was a powerful ally and this Scarecrow had become a master of it. Glancing at the idiot on the floor, Nightwing decided he was harmless, trapped in his own terrors, and turned to the crates. Retrieving a crowbar from atop one of the boxes, Nightwing pried the lid off of one of the crates and peered inside. Within were containers of a greenish liquid. It was the substance his informant had told him about. The liquid that apparently had no purpose but that a specific buyer was very interested in. Whoever this Scarecrow was, he was obviously working for the Joker and Nightwing could see why. They both dealt in insanity. Suddenly a door crashed open and the warehouse was filled with the footsteps of a dozen people. Sprinting toward the darkness behind the pile of crates, Nightwing climbed back up the rope to the rafters, pulling the cord up after him and securing the grappling hook to his belt. A dozen police officers entered the warehouse with guns drawn and quickly secured the scene, apprehending the three hired hands.

Once again anger threatens to fill me, but I can't let it. Anger that my investigation has been interrupted. But greater than the anger is confusion. Why are cops here? Who tipped them off? What do they think this is? I have to find answers and I won't get those by going down there and asking nicely. It's time to visit an old friend of my father's.


"Why are your men intruding on my investigation?"

Jim Gordon leaned back in his chair and contemplated the young man in the mask standing before him. Rarely had he dealt with this relatively new vigilante, having most of his interactions with the Batman. Accusation filled the tone of this youth, but Gordon was far from being intimidated. He had worked with the Batman for years against ruthless villains, many of whom were scarier than the Batman himself. However, this new hero showed promise and he was obviously on to something, otherwise he wouldn't be so upset.

"We've been following a group of drug dealers for months and finally caught up to them. I was told that their leader was going to visit the job site tonight and thought that this would be the opportune moment to strike. Unfortunately we missed him by nothing more than minutes by the sound of it. And it seems you had already apprehended the other suspects so there wasn't a whole lot for my men to do except secure the drugs."

"They could be some type of drug, yes. But not like you think."

The police commissioner's eyebrows drew together in a frown. "What do you mean?"

"How much trust do you put in your men?"

"I would trust them with my life. I hand picked every one of the men I work with."

Nightwing glanced at the door and then stepped closer. "I saw the leader of those thugs. He had a mask like a scarecrow and he did something to inspire fear in his men. I couldn't see what, but he drove one of them to insanity."

"My officers told me about that one. They couldn't understand what had happened to him."

"That's not all. This scarecrow person isn't the top of the chain. He works for the Joker."

Silence fell.

Commissioner Gordon stood slowly. "You mean to tell me the Joker is back?"

"Not only is he back, he's already begun whatever mad scheme he has in store for Gotham. And whatever it is, it's connected with the substance in those containers that your men have, hopefully, secured. Call it a drug if you will, but I think it's connected with that man going insane. I think it's something of the Joker's design."

Again the conversation came to a halt as Gordon walked to the open window and stared out at the city bathed in moonlight.

Nightwing waited a moment before speaking again. "You said that someone told you their leader would be there. Who's your contact?"

"I don't know. He never gave a name."

"Can you find him again?"

Gordon turned to Nightwing with a thoughtful expression. "Yes, I think so."
"Good. Tell me once you have and I'll have a talk with him."

"How will I find you?"

Nightwing shrugged. "I'll be around."

The sound of footsteps neared and Gordon turned at the sound. The door opened and one of his officers stepped into the room. Gordon turned to Nightwing only to find that he was no longer there.

"A Batman trick if ever I saw one," he grumbled under his breath.

"What was that sir?"

"Nothing. What is it?"

"That man we nabbed at the drug site got sent to Arkham Asylum. I just got a call from them. They said he won't stop laughing."

Police Commissioner Jim Gordon couldn't exactly say why, but chills crept up his spine.