So there are a lot of new followers for this story! Welcome! And thank you, all of you, for following and reviewing. I really appreciate it. Life has been nuts; I got accepted to 3 colleges and rejected by 2 (including my first choice) and now I have to look into scholarships and what not. But I'm rambling. Let's get down to business, shall we?

I've started to watch the first season of Arrow to see how I'm going to incorporate Green Arrow into the Knight of the Castle series. And I'm sooo excited about the upcoming Arkham Knight game! Also, I'll be watching Man of Steel (finally!) soon to see what path I'll be taking with Superman. See, even though I don't post often, I'm always working on the series! ;D

Disclaimer: I don't own Castle. I don't own Batman Begins. I don't own Arkham Origins. And I don't own the Batmobile. I think the latter is the most depressing out of all of them.

And now, onto the story!

Detective Beckett followed Doctor Crane through the halls of Arkham Asylum as they spoke. "Dr. Crane, Miss Adams was your assistant and found dead in your office," Beckett stated.

"I already told you Detective, I don't know why she was in my office," Crane interrupted, not breaking his stride. Frustrated, Beckett stood in front of him, blocking his path.

"We both know that that's a lie, Doctor," she argued. "You were the last person to see Miss Adams alive."

"Detective Beckett―"

"Witnesses saw the two of you arguing at the entrance of the asylum, Dr. Crane," Beckett continued.

"And after that, I proceeded to meet a business associate for dinner," Crane claimed. "He and the wait-staff can tell you that I was there."

Beckett's eyes narrowed, her arms crossing. "I'll be sure to check on that," she assured. She looked away for a moment; that was when she noticed where they stood. The window to her left opened into a patient's room. More specifically, it opened into Carmine Falcone's room. Her stance shifted and she straightened.

"Detective, if you have something else you want to say," Crane hinted, narrowing his eyes at her as he saw the change in her posture. Beckett looked from Falcone to Crane, face blank. But she steeled herself, suspicion appearing on her features.

"I just find it a bit convenient that a man in his 60's who has no history of mental illness suddenly has a psychotic break right before he's about to be indicted," she confessed, venom in her voice.

"As you can see for yourself, Detective," Crane said with a gesture towards the mobster, "Mr. Falcone's condition is nothing but inconvenient. He's fallen into a comatose state that leaves him incapable of doing anything."

Beckett narrowed her brows as she looked back at Falcone. "Incapable of doing anything?" she repeated.

"That's right."

The detective turned towards the window. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but he's speaking right now," she observed. It was true; with straining ears, both the doctor and detective could hear the word scarecrow leave Falcone's lips repeatedly. "Why scarecrow?"

Crane shrugged. "Often times, patients suffering delusional episodes focus their paranoia on an external tormentor. In Mr. Falcone's case… a scarecrow."

Beckett turned to the doctor. "He's drugged?"

"I'm a strong advocate of keeping our patients under control," Crane said smoothly. "That way, they can't hurt anyone around them. Or themselves." Crane looked away from Detective Beckett to the window where Falcone could be seen. "In the outside world, Falcone was a monster. A giant, who only cared about himself and would hurt anyone to get what he wanted. In here, however, only the mind can grant you power, and Mr. Falcone has proven to be nothing more than a deeply disturbed man."

Beckett's eyes narrowed, sizing the doctor up. "You enjoy the reversal," she noted.

"I appreciate, and respect, the mind's power over the body," Crane grinned. "It's why I do what I do."

"And I do what I do to keep criminals like Carmine Falcone behind bars and not in therapy," Beckett hissed, brushing past Crane. "Don't leave town."

Crane took in a calming breath before turning around. "Detective," he called out. Beckett turned towards him, impatience in her eyes. Crane merely smiled. "Allow me to show you something," he offered. "It may help you find the answers you need."

Beckett watched as he walked towards the elevator, completely calm. With a sigh, she followed him into the elevator, hoping he wasn't simply wasting her time.

When the doors reopened, Beckett stepped off behind Crane, keeping her eyes peeled as they walked through the basement. Crane pushed a door open, and light flooded the hallway. He stepped inside, not bothering to see if the detective was following him. She was hesitant, but Beckett entered the room as well, stopping mid-step at the sight that greeted her.

"This is where we make the medicine," Crane explained, continuing to walk forward. Beckett looked around in confusion; this place screamed 'illegal' in every sense. Between the appearance, the people in it, and the fact that they were making medicine in here? Beckett was ready to call dispatch and take Dr. Crane downtown for questioning; Crane's next words broke her train of thought. "Maybe you should take some."

At this, Beckett frowned. "What—"

Her words died in her throat. When she turned to face Crane again, the doctor was wearing a burlap sack over his head, a canister in his hand. He looked like a… "Scarecrow," Beckett breathed, realization dawning on her. She grabbed her gun, but she was quickly sprayed with the gassy toxin. She coughed harshly, dropping her service weapon. When she looked back up, her mind made Scarecrow's mask appear to be melting, with fire escaping his eyes.

"Who knows you're here?" Scarecrow asked, his voice distorted. Beckett cried out in fear, falling to the ground as she stumbled back. "WHO KNOWS?!"

Beckett let out a terrified scream just as the lights suddenly went out. It was dark for a few moments before the generator kicked in, the emergency lights flickering on. Scarecrow looked around, a pleased noise escaping him. "He's here," he announced.

"Who?" one of his thugs asked. Scarecrow cackled.

"The Batman."

"What do we do―"

"I heard he took out ten guys at once―"

"I heard it was twenty―"

"Can he really fly―"

"I heard he can disappear into thin air―"

"ENOUGH!" Scarecrow shouted. "Despite what he may be able to do… even the mighty Batman isn't immune to the compound."

This seemed to satisfy the thugs who began spreading out to track down the vigilante. A clatter made them all jump, pointing their jumps in the same direction. The sound of footsteps drew their attention, but there was a clang heard in the opposite direction. All of the armed criminals were facing different directions, and none of them were sure where exactly the Batman was—

A black figure dropped down in between two of the thugs. Both were startled at his sudden appearance, neither able to pull the trigger before Batman began throwing punches. He instantly knocked one out, but the other barely managed to avoid a brutal hit. The thug pointed his gun at the Batman, but the vigilante grabbed his arm and twisted it before knocking the gun from his grip.

When a third goon spotted them, he fired. The Batman, still gripping the second thug's arm, flung a bat-a-rang at the armed man. It sliced him in hand, making him drop the gun; that gave Batman time to knock the captive thug out and send the third sprawled out on the ground.

Hearing shouts, Batman blended into the shadows, waiting for the next moment to strike. There were yells of worry and terror as two other goons realized that their "co-workers" were out cold. They may have been hoping to take the Batman down, maybe even collect on Black Mask's bounty, but it was proving to be more difficult than they had anticipated.

Positioned on a pillar, Batman waited patiently till one of the goons stood directly below him. Hooking himself to the pillar with the Bat-claw, the vigilante quickly lowered himself and grabbed the thug; an inverted takedown. Screams of horror echoed in the basement as the Batman released him to hang upside-down by his ankle.

Moving to a different vantage point, Batman watched as the last thug rushed to the barely conscious and hanging thug. "How the hell did you get up there?!" was the surprised demand.

Without warning, Batman came up behind him and knocked him out. Plain and simple.

The sound of light footsteps alerted the Batman to one last presence in the basement. He waited till they were close, then countered their attack. It was Scarecrow, attempting to gas Batman once more with the fear-inducing compound. Trapping Scarecrow in a hold, Batman ripped the villain's mask off.

He frowned as his suspicions were confirmed; Scarecrow was Doctor Jonathan Crane. "Taste of your own medicine doctor?" he asked before gassing Crane with the compound. Crane simply laughed at the futility of it.

"You can't attack me with my own creation Batman," he taunted. Growling, Batman slammed Crane into a pillar.

"What have you been doing here? Who are you working for?" he demanded. "NOW Crane!"

Crane blinked at him. "Dr. Crane isn't here right now… but if you'd like to make an appointment―"

Batman knocked him out with a head-butt. The man was out of his mind and would provide no answers. Looking around, he noticed an opened pipe, water gushing through it. What were you planning, Crane…?

A whimper caught his attention, making him turn towards the sound. It was a young woman, curled up on the floor, holding her head. Rushing to her, Batman took her wrist in his hands, feeling her pulse; it was too fast. He also took note of her difficulty to breathe. But the shine of her police badge was what snapped him into action; it was Detective Beckett.

Grabbing her discarded service weapon and tucking it away, Batman took the unresisting cop into his arms and rushed outside.

It was still just Montgomery outside, as the backup he called for still hadn't arrived. "What the hell happened to her?!" Montgomery demanded when he spotted Beckett in Batman's hold.

"Crane," Batman answered. "He poisoned her with a psychedelic hallucinogen; it's a panic-inducing drug. He's been smuggling his drugs in with Falcone's shipments." He took a moment to think. "He may have been dumping it into the water supply."

"What was he planning?" Montgomery asked, looking from Beckett to the vigilante.

"I don't know yet," Batman said, before turning his attention back to the detective. Her eyes flickered between the Batman and her captain, scared breaths escaping her. "Crane is restrained and unconscious inside in a hidden basement. But Detective Beckett needs medical attention, before the damage becomes permanent."

"How long does she have?" Montgomery wondered in concern.

"Not long."

The captain moved quickly, turning towards the street. "I'll get my car."

"I brought mine."

That stopped the captain short. He noticed how the Batman's voice faded a bit towards the end of the sentence. And did he say… "Yours?" Montgomery questioned. An engine roared to life, making him turn around and jump to the side as a large black object zoomed past him. Seeing it fly by and smash into objects without slowing down, Montgomery's jaw dropped.

"I have got to get me one of those."

Two unsuspecting cops who sat in a crushed car that the Tumbler ran over immediately contacted dispatch.

"The Batman has been spotted! He is in a vehicle!"

"Make and color?"

"It's a black…" The officers exchanged unsure looks, "tank?"

Speeding through the streets of Manhattan, Batman drove the Tumbler, trying to determine the quickest route to the Batcave's entrance. "You've been poisoned," Batman told Beckett. "I need you to stay calm."

Detective Beckett turned to him with wide eyes as he sped through the streets, weaving through traffic. "You're…" She could barely speak, her breathing was so sporadic. "You're him," she managed though a gasp. "The Batman."

Batman barely glanced at her as he squeezed them between two buses. "Breathe slowly," he ordered. "It'll help focus your mind." Somehow, Beckett did as told, feeling the poison's effects subside, if only a little bit.

Before he could make the turn towards Central Park, Batman realized that they were being followed. Police cars, two of them, were on his tail. Cursing, he turned the opposite direction to make a detour. He'd go the long way; he should lose the cops by then, and hopefully still be able to get the antidote to Detective Beckett in time.

Gritting his teeth, he floored it.

The police officers pursuing him were doing all they could to keep up with the Batman. His vehicle shouldn't be able to move the way it did, but it could, so they had to make do with their clearly inferior cars. More units joined the chase, some firing at him.

Inside the Tumbler, Beckett let out a startled scream as the bullets bounced off of the vehicle. Realizing she was getting worse faster than he anticipated, Batman's hands tightened on the steering wheel. He turned to her slightly, concern gripping him. "Hold on," he pleaded.

He turned towards a parking garage, speeding through the barriers and towards the ramp. "What are you doing?!" Beckett demanded incredulously as they sped through the parking garage.

"Shortcut," was the only response.

The police officers followed them up the ramp to the rooftop. The Tumbler remained still, as the officers blocked the ramp to prevent him from leaving. An officer exited his vehicle, megaphone in hand.

"Turn off your engine, and step away from the vehicle!"

Of course, Batman would do no such thing. Instead, he flicked a switch that began changing the Tumbler ever so slightly. In fact, all the changes occurred outside the Tumbler, giving it little gliders all over. Beckett looked at the masked man in surprise and slight fear as he slid into a cockpit.

"Trust me."

He fired the canons, opening a path for him to drive off of the roof. While the officers were all staring at the new hole in the wall, no one paid attention as Batman began speeding towards it. As he launched into a rampless jump, the NYPD officers could only watch in complete awe as the Tumbler flew off the parking garage roof onto the roof of an apartment complex.

From the parking garage, the officer felt his jaw drop open. "Who is this guy?!" he exclaimed.

Batman drove from roof to roof, using the rampless jump feature multiple times to keep them up.

"What street is he taking?"

"He's not on a street, he's flying on rooftops!"

Leaving the cockpit, Batman looked at the GPS navigator; Central Park was coming up. There were a few cop cars in the streets below, but they would soon be left in the dust. Batman took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for what he was about to do. He sent Beckett an apologetic look; "Hold on tight," he warned. Before Beckett could question him, he sent them into a rampless jump, but not towards another roof.

They flew off the building, over the tree line, and into the Park.

Beckett screamed and Batman grit his teeth; they landed right on paved ground inside the park, out of sight of all cops. He made sure to stay off of the grass to prevent leaving a trail, at least until he got to the secluded area of bushes and trees that would cover his tracks.

"Stealth mode activated."

Looking over at the detective, Batman saw she was struggling to stay calm. Her hands were tightly gripping the seatbelt and her breaths were tight and long. Batman placed a hand on shoulder, seeing her slightly jolt out of her trance.

"Stay with me," he said gently. Beckett looked from the hand on her shoulder to him and gave him a tiny nod.

They were quickly approaching the hidden entrance to the lair. He could see the hidden entrance beginning to open. "Just hold on," Batman repeated. Despite his words, Beckett's head drooped to the side, her eyes fluttering closed. With a frustrated growl, Batman sped through the entrance, letting it close behind them.

Finally, he slammed to a stop as they got into the lair. He was out of the Tumbler before the door was fully open, rushing to the desk where a vial of the antidote sat. He filled a syringe with the liquid, hoping that it wasn't too late. With a deep breath, Batman grabbed her arm and plunged the needle in, giving her the antidote.

The serum now in her bloodstream, Batman attached the heart monitor Fox had left behind to her. Her heart rate started picking up again, and she was breathing properly. He waited for a few more moments before letting the tension leave his body.

Detective Beckett was unconscious, but still alive. Letting out a sigh of relief, Batman plopped into his chair for a few minutes of rest. He checked her vitals and saw that she was perfectly fine; it was as if Scarecrow had never gotten to her. Convinced she was going to be fine, Batman took out her wallet and found her address.

She needed to get home.

Not even an hour later, Batman was breaking into the detective's apartment and laying her on her bed. After making sure the doors and windows were shut and locked, the vigilante slipped out into the night, hoping that the young woman would never have to face something like this again.

When Castle returned home, his mother was waiting for him in the study. She stopped her pacing when she spotted him, rushing to pull him into a hug. "Oh Richard, thank goodness!"

Castle stood still, completely unsure about what was going on. "Mother?" he questioned. Martha suddenly pulled back and smacked his chest, making him wince out of instinct rather than from pain. "Hey!"

"Richard Castle, what on earth were you thinking?!" she demanded. Castle, still at a loss as to what was going on, shrugged slightly.

"Do you think you could be a bit more specific?" he suggested. Martha grabbed the remote control and turned the TV on (with a little more force than necessary); Castle watched as footage of the police chase appeared. Oh. So that's what got his mother so worked up.

"What do you call that?" Martha demanded, pointing at the television.

"Damn good television?" Castle shrugged, hoping to defuse the situation.

"It's a miracle no one was killed!" Martha lectured.

"A woman's life was at stake, Mother," Castle argued. "I didn't exactly have time to observe the rules of the road."

His mother studied him for a moment before shaking her head. "I have supported you through this, but enough is enough. Tonight proved that things have gone too far," Martha insisted. "You need to stop this."

There was a moment of silence as the writer processed what his mother had said. "Stop?" Castle repeated slowly, disbelief coloring his voice. "Stop helping the city? Stop saving people?"

"You're getting lost in this bat-persona of yours," Martha challenged in concern. "You are a writer, for goodness sakes, Richard! You're not some hardened vigilante!"

"Every night, I am out there. Risking my life," Castle argued. "That bat-persona, as you call it, is the only thing between the innocent and the predatory."

"That may be, but—"

"Not 'may be!' It is! When the mugger or thief stops to think twice, that is fear; that is what I am. It's why Roman Sionis hired assassins to kill me; it's why Roy Montgomery trusts me and why the NYPD doesn't. Because I am the reason the criminals breathe easier when the sun rises!"

Without another word, Castle stalked off back into the cave, letting the door slam behind him.

In the CIA's New York Headquarters, Lucius Fox walked towards the regional director's office, wondering what exactly his boss wanted. The last time Director Quinn spoke to Fox directly was when Richard Castle asked to hang around for research months ago; Quinn deemed the writer important enough to handle the arrangement personally.

Quinn's secretary let him into the office; the director was sitting at his desk, reviewing a file. "Mr. Fox, have a seat," he stated without looking up. Fox did as told, waiting for Quinn to finish doing whatever he was doing.

Finally, Quinn looked up at him, but his eyes portrayed urgency. "Mr. Fox, I need some information," he began, getting right down to business. "It's a product; 47B-1ME?"

"1ME…" Fox repeated, wracking his brain. "A microwave emitter," he recalled, nodding in satisfaction. "They were designed to vaporize enemies' water supplies. Rumor is that they were tested, dispersing water-based chemical agents into the air. It's legal, however, so production was halted."

Quinn's lips formed a thin line, brows furrowed. "I want all the information on the development of the device; all the data, files, back-up disks, everything, on my desk ASAP," he stated.

Fox's brows furrowed. "Did you lose one?"

A smile that appeared to be more of a smirk appeared on Quinn's face. "Mr. Fox, you understand the sensitivity of this information," he began. "I know things are a bit different down in Applied Sciences, but don't need to remind you of keeping things classified, do I?"

The tone of the director's voice was one that Fox knew well. Keeping his mouth shut and his thoughts to himself, Fox nodded cordially as he was dismissed. Exiting the office and mounting the elevator down the hall, he kept asking himself the same question.

What was going on here?

Looks like trouble is on the horizon! And we finally got Detective Beckett involved. She isn't going to be central in the rest of the story, maybe another appearance later on. This story is starting to wrap up; I'd say maybe 5 more chapters in Batman Begins and then we'll move onto the next story in the series!

Please review! And thanks for reading!

Love you all,

Katrina