A/N: This chapter... you might think "oh, its just an exposition chapter".. Well, what's one thing you know about me? You think you have all the answers, I change the fucking questions. Best advice I ever heard from Alan Moore was "Don't give the readers what they want, give them what they need. Readers don't know what they want." Don't worry, I intend to do just so. Hell, I'm getting the old (evil Bender laugh) feeling back because not a single one of you know how this arc's gonna end. God I love it. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter... That and a particularly dark Crow makes his redebut...

The Watchman III

---

Three days since the attack on Killer Croc... Three long, boring days filled with the usual waiting, drinking with Someone, plus the occasional assault on a criminal. Sure the bar's lively tonight, not to mention in an uproar over a drinking contest between Someone and a local foolish enough to make a dare. At the manic Irishman's request, the band is extra loud tonight, wailing away on fiddles, drums, and pipes. Funny how one mess of a man can bring so much chaos to this small hamlet in the middle of the hell-hole known as Gotham. Judging by the smiling faces and laughing expressions, however, it might actually be a welcome haven in the storm?

How ironic is it that the smiles disappear as though the hands of the reaper had wiped them clean off in an instant. Just as when Gar entered the threshold days prior, the sight of a tall man, clad in black with a corpse mask and noose on his neck sends the bar into a hush. In the lull, Scarecrow looks about the room, surveying the patrons and gazing for the one man in particular that might...

"'EY!!!! SCAR'CRO! HOW YA DOIN' MACKEY?!" Someone shouts, leaving the bar and walking over towards the entrance.

"Hug me and you die." Scarecrow points out, walking stick held out to keep the admittedly drunken Irishman at bay. From the ghastly tone of Scarecrow's already deathly grave voice, the threat is nothing to take lightly.

"Aw c'mon! T'at's not bit'a fun y'showin' an ol'friend a'ya!"

"You've had more alcohol than I care to imagine. I can smell you from here." Scarecrow reminds even with a good six feet apart from each other. Far enough for a coffin?

"No I 'aven't!"

"Not just booze, Crane." Watchman announces from behind the master of fear.. well, maybe not the master given the slight rise in the white eyes of the villain. "Stinks of bullshit too."

Gasping, Crane spins on a heel to see the Watchman looking down at him. Though the glasses hide his eyes, a noticeable smirk appears on the green face of the vigilante.

"Hello to you too."

"You've certainly changed these past three years." Scarecrow admits from the safer distance than previously occupied. Bored, Someone wanders away to join the growing chorus once more. This fact doesn't distract neither party however.

"Surprised? Shouldn't be. You of all people should've guessed it." That drawling, grizzled voice emanating from Gar's throat seems a strange mixture opposite the ghastly, raspy echo in Scarecrow's.

"And what is that supposed to imply?" If he could, Crane might be raising an eyebrow at that comment. For now, the corpse face will have to remain the same.

"Too public here. Talk downstairs."

Not taking a second to wait for Crane's acceptance, Gar moves to the doorway that leads to the basement. For a brief second, the doctor considers the notion before finally accepting. Best not to piss off the man who could very well rip him in two.

---

In the basement, Scarecrow observes the lack of lighting with its few light bulbs on and darkened corners. A few stains of blood cover the area near the wall adjacent to the stairwell. Peculiar that it might be green blood however..

"I assume this is where you assaulted Croc?"

Glancing over his shoulder, Gar points out "Assault implies first-strike. He got what came to him."

Walking over to a pair of chairs under the light, Scarecrow admits with a jest of irony "Surprised really. I thought you would've killed him."

"Interesting choice of words..." The warning in that statement is well-warranted. Sitting across from the zombie-looking villain, Gar points out. "That's the reason I asked for you to come here."

"I figured as much. You never were the type to just call and say hello."

Eyes obscured by the brightness in the bulbs, shining off green glass, Gar asks contrastingly dark. "I'm also not the type you imagined me, am I?"

"No."

"Then how would you describe me?"

"A child in a man's body lost in this game of life. You're searching for a meaning but what that meaning is definitely is beyond your ability to grasp." Leaning forward onto his stick, Scarecrow dares to invoke some humor at Gar's expense. "Its actually quite sad, really. For all of your threats and bully tactics, you're nothing more than a League-sponsored enforcer."

"Ex-League." Neutral expression turning to a frown, knuckles cracking a bit as he flexes his fingers, Gar's body reads like an open book.

"Right." Scarecrow sarcastically answers. "You think the Justice League would just let someone like you escape? No, they need you as much as you need me at this very moment."

"How do you figure that?"

Leaning back in his chair, Scarecrow points out. "The League has no real reason to exist anymore. Without those hawk people, Darkseid, or Lex Luthor around, the League has no major enemies to contend with. And just like a human being, when a group runs out of something to fight, they become afraid. Why? Because they start to look inward for a demon to fight."

Gar's expression doesn't change from the slight frown, although his hands find his way to a folding position on his knees.

"You've probably noticed how the League has been quietly covering up the fact that they've run out of enemies to fight? With most of the costumed "bad guys" killed during the Darkseid incident, they've become too large to continue the status quo."

"You're beginning to sound like Question." Gar points out without a change of expression. Bad enough they physically sound the same..

"I'll cut to the chase then. Gotham City is Batman's territory and he won't give it up without a fight. Didn't you ever wonder why Batman blacklisted you during your last visit to Gotham?"

"He doesn't want others to ruin his fun. Got that already."

Tapping his stick on the ground once, Scarecrow suggests "Did you get the fact that maybe he was hiding the pact us villains made not to interfere in League affairs?"

"The Bat-embargo, yes?" Garfield suggests. Vague, yes, but that bit of history did have a profound effect during the expansion of the League.

"Is that what they called it? We preferred to call it a different name but if that's what you'll prefer..."

"Get back on point. What does this all mean?" History aside, Crane's stalling and its starting to make a green man's eyebrow twitch...

Another tap of the cane. "It means that without Gotham to keep the League busy, they're going to start looking inward in order to keep their existence going."

"A purge?" Interesting concept but would they?

"They aren't Soviet Russia as far as I'm aware of, Watchman. Something else though... Imagine if the League decided to begin scaling down its activities at the same time their enemies were evolving?"

A brief moment of silence follows that suggestion as Gar puts a finger to his lip. With Scarecrow returning the gaze, bemused it seems from the tilt of his neck, the answer begs to be revealed in the darkness.

"White Rabbit? Desade?.... Ripper?"

"A new breed of villain is evolving, Watchman. The current generation of good guys and bad guys are quickly becoming phased out by those willing to deal drugs and those that aren't. The proof of their success comes in the defeat of your Watchmen group in Jump City recently. Years ago such a team of heroes would have easily defeated a similar group of my kind.."

"That's why the League needs me?" Gar suggests before lowering his sunglasses. Green eyes narrow in the narrower light, staring sharply at the doctor opposite him. "I'm the next generation?"

"Perhaps. The real problem confronting them seems to be your attitude towards fighting this new problem." A third tap. "From what I hear you've been trying to cope with the realities of committing murder. By the old definition of our profession, this would imply a cross between sides. A hero turning bad is nothing new to us but a villain killing other villains is bad for business."

Brow raised, Gar counters. "But business is changing... Becoming grayer than before."

Corporeal mask pulling back into a twisted smile, Scarecrow confirms "And it would seem the only way to stop this destructive new evolution is to fight it with an even greater evil."

For a brief instant, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, a faint, green glow radiates in his emerald eyes. Watchman finds his own face pulling back into a grin as his throat gives way to a playfully dark voice. "It would, wouldn't it?"

---

Outside of the bar, a group of men pile out of a trio of early 20th century vehicles. Shined up shoes meeting wet, cobblestone streets, they don't seem like the type that would normally frequent this area...

---

"And that's why the League needs you. Unlike Batman, who'd never kill one of my kind under any circumstance, you understand reality. You know that the only way to fight this new spread of evil is through fear."

Nodding gently, Gar offers "High compliment from the master of fear."

Bemused snicker through the mask, raspy as it is. "We're not all madmen bent on murder, revenge, and domination. Some of us actually enjoy seeing others embrace our work."

"There's only one problem, Crane. You know no matter what I do, I'm still a product of the old-mentality in crime fighting."

"No killing, no matter what the situation. That rule might've applied to the fifties but today's a whole new situation." Scarecrow relents.

"Strange thing is I've had quite a number of times to abandon that rule since our last meeting. And yet... every time I've needed to break that rule to keep myself alive, I've faltered."

"Hmm, the fight against Desade last week?"

Smile turning to a snarl, Watchman admits "Yes. So far I've covered that I only did it to protect the other Watchmen as well as Raven. But I think its because I'm actually afraid to break that rule."

"Interesting. You accept you need to kill to end this problem early but to do so requires you breaking the moral absurdity you've built your entire life around."

If not for the generalizing way Scarecrow uses in his words, Gar might actually take it as an insult. Not many people ball their fists up then return to normal so quickly after all.

"Everyone has a breaking point, Scarecrow. Sooner or later I'm going to lose my control and break that rule knowingly or not." Gar points out. "I'm asking you for this favor so I can do so without falling back into a relapse."

Fourth tap. "You're asking me to help you overcome your fear of killing to help you fight my kind? And they call me the crazy one."

---

Upstairs, the door creaks open once again. As the gathered customers turn to see who's entering, their joy turns to despair as the new arrivals bear tommy guns...

---

"You help me do this and I'll give you something in return."

Tapping a pale finger to his chin, Scarecrow coos "Equal exchange? What do you have in mind?"

"A one-time chance to test some of your chemicals on a voluntary patient."

Cane falling to the floor, bouncing hard off the concrete, the corporeal face actually stares slack-jawed. No way did Watchman, the man who threatened to end his life on two different occasions, he did not just...

The roar of machine guns brings the attention of both men crushingly back to reality, their necks snapping towards the stairwell. In an instant, both find their way to their feet. Implications, presumptions, thousands of other things pass through their minds... But only one action takes hold: forward motion.

---

Upstairs, bodies crowd the floors, blood seeping into the floorboards and stools as corpses pile up. Casings fill the entryway, coupled with spent drums of ammunition. By the time Gar and Scarecrow make it to the scene, the firefight is already concluded and the shooters vanished.

"What the fuck?" Gar bluntly puts it, looking around at the carnage. Its been quite a long time since he's seen more than just the often seen murder victim. From his line of sight alone, he guesses that least ten to fifteen people lie dead on the floor.

Damon staggers out from behind the bar, clutching his side and walking over towards Gar.

"Damon!" Gar shouts, rushing over to the man's side, propping him up.

"Gar.. fuck!" Pain courses through his body, stinging like a billion bees with hot, molten rods for stingers. Seething, he grits his teeth and tries to speak. "Someone stormed the place, Watchman. They shot us up really good.."

Scarecrow moves for the telephone to call the police. Villain he might be but right now this situation is more important than a simple rivalry.

"Damon, relax. We'll get help as soon as we can." A pause before the thought occurs to him. "Where's Someone?"

Shouting from the back of the building seems to answer that question in its tracks. Judging from the horrifyingly loud pitch, coupled with the gut-wrenching cry of agony, Gar fears for the worst.

"'Crow, keep an eye on this one would you? I gotta find Someone."

Not caring to hear the reply, Gar hopes the villain in question won't disappoint as he leaves to find his host and friend.

Through the hallway leading to the back where the living quarter is, Gar ignores the crosses and pictures lining the darkened path. His attention is drawn to the screaming coming from the kitchen, the window shattered by an unknown source. On the greenish-white floor, however, is a sight he swears he'll never forget.

Someone, sobbing harshly, holds a woman about his age with red hair in his arms. Blood covering the floor, her eyes folded back into her head, its obvious that this woman, Someone's wife seemingly, has been killed. To Gar, the sight is enough to bring a tear even to his eye. The sight of his friend, long-hardened by the tough life of an Irish gangster, crying hysterically for the loss of his wife is enough to bring his mind into a state of shock.

"Someone.."

Through burning eyes, full of tears and brown-colored rage, Someone looks up at his friend with hatred pouring into his soul. "Wh'did t'is, Garf'iel?"

Repeating the name doesn't help as it only leads to the Irishman screaming in rage back, demanding to know who ended the life of his wife.

"I didn't see, Someone. We heard gunfire and when we came up..."

Fighting the tears forthcoming through anger, Someone clutches onto his wife further before leaning his head onto her's. "Wh'ever did t'is... Ah'swear I'll burn th'mall!"

"Someone, help me carry her up to the bar. The medics should be here soon and..."

Setting his wife down instead, Someone stands up now with an insane fire in his own orbs. Reason seems to have given way to insanity, never a good sign in any person.. Fear starts to seriously set in Gar's mind at the sight. Is this how he looked after Kris? Is this what'll finally set him off?

"Docs will'na b'able t'help us now... Woe betide an'one who did t'is t'day.."

---

Outside of the Mad Irishman, Gar notices that Scarecrow seems to have disappeared. Before he left, however, he'd left Gar a little note where to contact him after the heat had died down. Judging from the look in Someone's eyes, however, the thought of heat dying anytime soon might be a fancible illusion. Whoever dared stir the Irishman's rage surely is about to feel the rage of the Irish. Lucky bastard whoever that is...

Police and EMT personnel surround the building, investigations need to be undertaken as well as bodies to clean up. Watchman finds himself staring as Damon is wheeled into an ambulance, alive but definitely seeing better days. Local residents stand behind police markers, watching in shock and sadness at the sight.

"Looks like this really was the heart of this neighborhood... And someone just had to put a bullet into it, didn't they?" Gar whispers to himself, watching as an older woman and her daughter cry as another body is brought out, draped with a white sheet on a stretcher board.

Turning away from the sight, Gar turns his gaze skyward and sees the sky. To his own eyes, it appears just a little more redder than usual. Sarcastically snorting, Gar mutters "I guess that's why Gotham's sky so red, huh? This whole city's bleeding, ain't it?"

A cold wind is all that Gar feels in reply... but not as cold as the feeling that enters his blood stream as a blinding light flashes onto a cloud above the city.

---

A/N2: A LOT to comprehend, huh? Justice League behind the times? Crime's evolving? Gar needs Scarecrow's help to become a killer? The Mad Irishman gets attacked? Someone loses his own sanity? Who did it? Why? What's to gain? Too many questions... Scarecrow is definitely entertaining in this saga of mine... He can be a murdering psychopath, and yet be so damn darkly funny. Yet, at the same time, he's human.. He's not insane like Joker but he's also not a do-gooder like Light became..
Oh, and yes, I DID spoof the Bat-Embargo!

Trivia:
- Yes, Bat-Embargo! Read it twice! I'll explain more about that in a later chapter I have in mind. Funny little quirk though, eh?
- Another reference to Jeffery Combs doing Question and Scarecrow again. (Forgive the race issue here) but I swear that man is the vocal equivalent to Barry White. Not for the inneuendo or anything, but that guy just stands out as a voice, its creepy.

Rhetorical
Who else can't wait to see Watchmen this Friday? Just make sure NONE of you think of Gar during the movie, ok? Bad enough I'm going to.