Today's newspaper headline plagued students of Gotham with concern. It read in bold letters, "FIFTH GSU STUDENT ATTACK DISCOVERED, VICTIM HOSPITALIZED IN CRITICAL CONDITION."

After taking a sip of hot tea and sitting at the end of her bed, Dahlia folded over the section with the main story and began to read with engrossed curiosity. It was frightening, and somewhat nerve-wracking to now have a connection to such a story. But she couldn't admit to herself if she felt any guilt. It felt deserved, nearly asked for. Taunt the bull, get the horns.

Something stood out. She scrutinized the column more carefully. It mentioned that - in her hysterics - Caitlin was calling out to "a banshee." She was crying for it to stop screaming because her ears were bleeding out puss and spiders. How visceral indeed, she thought.

From what Dahlia saw in that steel room, it was a believable hallucination on Caitlin's end. All of Dahlia's frustrations welled inside and after Caitlin's first scream of terror, and she didn't know anything else to do but scream back. A piercing, furious, impulsive scream. She could barely hold back from striking with her fists.

But she did end up controlling herself, and self assured that the torment was enough. An eye for an eye, no need to be a brute about it.

With a satisfied groan, Dahlia reached both hands high above her head and stretched backwards. Then with an exhale and sigh, she relaxed and reclined on the bed. Cat chirped and hopped up with her, pressing his nose into her side affectionately.

On the following school day, Dahlia lingered behind when class was adjourned. With hushed excitement, she had raved to him about her state of mental wellness in the recent days. Not once in her life did she feel as great as she did now. It was empowering. Crane welcomed this news with with words of encouragement.

Then he approached a new subject. "Now, we need to also consider the issue of funding. It's very expensive to manufacture the compound, and we're dwindling our resources to nothing. My list of investors is short and ill-tempered, but mostly reliable when it comes to trades."

Following the conversation tone, she interjected, "So you're saying we need money ... sooner than later?"

"In a manner of speaking." Crane glanced towards the class window adjacent to the door. All clear. Then continued. "One of my vendors is in need of protection during a job. His last one was disrupted."

Crane's vocabulary was suggestive. Dahlia didn't have concrete feelings toward the clues he was dropping. "Protection during a job? Like ... a heist ... ?" She half expected it to be a joke.

"They plan to seize their assets at Gotham National Bank. A deal between colleagues turned sour or other. Not our concern, not with the GNB being secretly mob-owned. But Frank Kendrick wants to take over and have them removed."

That sounded a lot like theft with extra steps.

Dahlia inquired gently, "They're going to rob a bank?"

Then, an early student walked into the room for their next class. Without skipping a beat, without any change in his speaking volume or intonation, Crane continued the discussion. "The specific section in the library that may be relevant for your paper is 'applied psychology'. I'd recommend starting there and working your way back."

Smooth. She picked up what he was dropping. "Got it. Thanks Professor!" She lifted a hand as a wave goodbye as he nodded, and scampered out towards the library.

If her memory was accurate, Crane's last class of the day was usually about two hours long. Not a concern to Dahlia, who decided to occupy a quiet, open corner of the library just behind the psychology section. She was seated cross-legged on the floor with her bag and some papers strewn about, and chose this spot specifically to have better awareness of any inadvertent eavesdroppers.

"Very astute, Miss Rhodes." Crane approached. He gave her a short nod as greeting, then stopped to peruse a nearby shelf. More quietly, he said, "I understand your concerns, Dahlia, I do. It's an imposing thing to be involved with, but with the risk comes great reward. Jobs like this keep our ideas afloat and keeps our future clear. And jobs like this one in particular can dethrone the mob and get us one step closer to a better future."

Before she could ask any questions, he continued, "I can explain in further detail at another time, if you need. Right now I can just assure you that everything we're doing is for the greater good."

They locked eye contact. Dahlia replied with acceptance, "Okay."

About a week went by while making preparations for the Frank Kendrick job.

Dahlia and Crane had since spoken more about the ideologies of their new partnership. Really it didn't take much convincing on Dahlia's end - she felt that she could trust him implicitly now. It wasn't something she wanted to admit for fear of an inevitable falling out, like others in her life before him. But she knew that he was very, very different.

... It also helped knowing that banks had insurance through the FDIC for things like fires, floods, etc. From what she understood, it would be an impact exclusively to the bank itself and not the customers. And Crane did say that the GNB was mob-owned. His words checked out.

Thankfully for her, Crane had already coordinated much of the "heavy lifting." Really she wouldn't have had any idea where to begin regardless. But he left her some very specific, simple instructions:

1. She was to arrive at his house at 2:00am on the night of the job. They'd review all the beats, the contingency plans, and then get dressed and masked. It felt silly at first, but Crane insisted on Dahlia keeping the blatancy of her identity private. Additionally, he disclaimed that the fear compound might be put to use, and it would be better to have protection for her breathing. It was a sensible reason.

2. The next step was to equip themselves with ample supplies. Dahlia already had brief practice in deploying the compound to Caitlin. It didn't seem sufficient to Crane, so he had her practice deploying two more canisters more rapidly, both from a wrist attachment hidden under each sleeve. She picked up fast.

3. The final steps - Don't engage in chit chat, reveal nothing about your identity, stay close, and stay hidden if anything goes wrong.

At 2:58am, Crane double-checked his watch and then motioned to Dahlia. "The car's here. Out back."

Hm, she didn't recall him having any kind of back area that a car could access. First ensuring that every bolt in the home was locked, Crane led her to the back office. No exception for that door either, he closed and secured that as well. Then by the corner buried with books, he pulled up the rug and revealed a wooden trap door. It led down to a long, long corridor illuminated with sparse lights. At the very end, Crane unlocked a steel door that lead into ... another basement?

Of the two staircases within, one led up into the side yard of a house two streets down from Crane's. That's where they finally emerged. As he re-locked the basement door from the outside, he said quietly to Dahlia, "One of my investors owns this block under a pseudonym. It granted us some neighborly leg room."

Further down on the quiet and somewhat unkempt street sat an idling black car with limousine tint. The two approached.

The Scarecrow asked, "Still ready for this?"

The Banshee replied, "Always ready."