Batman stood on the support beam overlooking the warehouse. There were twenty-two men below. Scarecrow, however, was nowhere to be seen. He didn't like that; it didn't bode well for the plan.
It was the first time that he had taken Robin with him to tackle one of the 'big baddies' as the boy was wont to call them. Batman would have preferred to have chosen a different baddie to begin with, but they were all high on his list of psychopaths he never wanted Robin to meet, so in the end it wouldn't matter which one he chose, it still would be too soon for him.
Every time Jonathon Crane escaped from Arkham Asylum, he introduced a new variation of his fear toxin. Batman had been inoculated for three separate toxins to date. Whether or not they would aid him if he were introduced to this latest batch remained to be seen. But the plan hatched to obtain a sample of the newest toxin required two people; one to create a distraction while the other stole the sample from wherever Crane's lab turned out to be.
Normally Robin would be the distraction while Batman tackled the Scarecrow, but once he had gotten a glimpse of the number of men, their roles had reversed. He still hated the idea of Robin going up against Scarecrow alone, but there was no way the ten-year old was ready to take on twenty-two armed guards by himself. Some talk from below, however, had led them to believe that Crane was busy elsewhere this evening, so breaking into the lab, stealing the sample, and destroying what toxins were left had been deemed the safer option.
Batman counted down the time left that Robin needed to position himself near the lab. Wouldn't do to begin too early and alert everyone else that the lab was in danger. Another benefit to Batman being the distraction would be the greater likelihood that those present would believe the Batman was working alone tonight. Perhaps, if there were any other guards in the vicinity, they would rush to take him on, and leave Robin's path open, believing the boy was absent.
Five . . . Four . . . Three . . . Two . . .
The Batman dropped from the rafters, and pandemonium reigned!
It didn't take long to locate the lab. The warehouse was two-thirds open space, so the rest of the storage building held only one hall on the three levels built in the remaining portion. Each hallway had just four doors off of it, but held two staircases at either end, providing each level's occupants with two exits, rather than one.
Robin knew exactly when Batman appeared from the muted sounds of gunfire. He waited another couple of minutes for any other guards hanging out back here to rush out in a vain attempt to tame the Bat before Robin slipped out of the ventilation system and dropped to the floor silently. He checked each of the rooms before moving on to the next level. It wasn't until he reached the third floor that he hit pay dirt.
He picked the lock, and entered the room; keeping low. Luck was with him. The lab was deserted!
Robin straightened and rushed over to the row of mini-refrigerators lining the counter against the back wall. A cacophony of shrieks and barks sounded as the animal population present noticed him. He paused, looking in sympathy at the cages stacked on one end of the room. What horrendous experiments had Crane subjected them to?
Robin was supposed to steal a couple of vials of the latest fear toxin, and then set charges to destroy whatever remained of the lab, but looking at the array of pitiful creatures that would be left helpless, Robin didn't think he could do it. He couldn't leave them to die in the resulting fire. The animals were innocent of any wrongdoing. They were as much Scarecrow's victims as the people of Gotham.
He hurriedly pried the lock from the refrigerator door and took his samples; carefully storing them in a pouch on his belt especially prepared to help protect the glass vials from breaking should he find himself in a fight before he could escape. He moved around the room, setting his charges in strategic locations that would best destroy the contents of the lab quickly and as efficiently as possible. Now, he was supposed to retreat to a safe distance and blow the lab to smithereens before heading to the rendezvous point.
Instead, Robin began swiftly opening drawers and cabinets in a race to find the key to the animal cages before Batman either finished with the men below or someone came to check on the safety of the toxin. Robin wanted to free as many animals as he could before he was forced to retreat and proceed with the plan. He needed the keys to do it. He couldn't take the time to pick or break every lock on every cage. It would take far too long, and he was quickly running out of time as it was.
Bingo! Second to the last drawer he tried . . . Robin grabbed the set of keys and ran to the nearest cages. The animals were going bonkers at his approach. Robin paused a minute to reassess the condition of the cages' occupants. Were they merely afraid of him or were they infected? He couldn't, in good conscience, release animals that were rabid and likely to attack people. He couldn't take the time to rescue the cages without risking discovery and endangering himself and the plan. Destroying infected creatures might be the most humane thing he could do for them, but dying in a fire was too cruel . . .
Robin glanced at the clock on the wall. He was running out of time. Already the sounds of gunfire were diminishing. Batman would be retreating soon in expectation of the explosion. He would be expecting Robin to have left the building and proceed to the rendezvous point. If he were very late, Batman would worry. He might even decide to return to the warehouse to find him, endangering himself should he return at the time that the charges went off.
Indecision warred inside of him. Why couldn't he have been the distraction? Oh, yeah, because there had been too many guards for him to handle. They would have kicked his butt before he could have neutralized even half of them.
His eyes scanned the animals desperately, searching for signs of escalated fear compared to a normal reaction. Leave the monkeys that were pinballing around their cages, and release the ones seemed curious, he decided. Leave the dogs that were slathering at the mouth, and release the ones that were merely barking for his attention. Leave the cats that were hissing and attempting to claw at him upon his approach, and release the ones that were hunkered quietly near the rear of the cages. It was the best he could think to do . . .
He opened the door to the hall in preparation of the mass exodus, and the released animals scurried toward freedom. But the ones left behind . . . Tears blurred his vision. They hadn't asked for this, but he couldn't release them only to have them attack innocent people later. If a child were mauled or killed by one of these now obviously rabid creatures, Robin knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself.
He paused by the glass cages on one of the counters that held the rats, looking back and forth between them. He couldn't tell which rats were contaminated and which were the control group. That Crane would have experimented on the larger animals and not the rats was inconceivable. He would have started on the rats before progressing to larger and more varied animals.
Robin extended his gloved hand near the glass of one cage and then to the other, hoping that the occupants of the infected group would react in a way that would tell him which group he could safely release. Neither group reacted to him in any obvious way that helped him decide. Was it possible that these rats were all apart of the control group? Had Crane already destroyed the contaminated rats?
Robin checked the clock again. He was late! The gunfire had nearly ceased. Either Batman had taken them all down or he had already begun his retreat! He would be expecting the explosion to happen any moment now, and Robin was still hovering above the rat cages. He started to turn away and leave, but made the mistake of looking back over his shoulder.
Batman made a terrible mistake when they had altered the plan. He hadn't taken into account the boy's incredible love of animals, and the high probability that Crane had several test animals kept in the lab.
Robin returned to the rat cages and carefully, but quickly, took the top off. His gloves would hopefully offer him a measure of protection. He reached inside to pick up one of the rats, hoping the action would give him the information he needed to make an informed decision. The creature his hand found squeaked, but didn't fight him. Maybe this group was the control group!
He looked at the rat closely for signs of madness or paranoia. How did one tell if a rat was paranoid?
Suddenly the rodent twisted around and bit his hand between his thumb and forefinger. Its teeth were incredibly sharp and its jaws were strong for an animal so small! His gloves hadn't been able to provide him any protection at all as he felt the teeth penetrate deeply into his hand.
Hissing in pain, he released the rat instinctively, but the little beast had a hold and didn't act as though it meant to release its victim any time soon. Robin caught the rodent in his other hand and squeezed, hoping the rat would let go so that he could toss it back into its cage. The creature hung on as if its very life depended upon it.
So caught up in his struggle, Robin wasn't aware that he was no longer alone in the lab . . . Until, that is, the heavy base of a microscope came crashing down onto his head, and then he became aware of nothing.