Bruce Wayne/Batman, Dick Grayson/Nightwing, Selina Kyle, Barbara Gordon, the Scarecrow, and all other important characters belong to DC Comics/Time Warner.
I am using them without permission, however I have not and don't expect to make money from this.

Rated PG : mild language; violence, some mature concepts.

Reviews are greatly appreciated.

Chiroptophobia

Maneuvers

- - -

By now you have perhaps realized that you have been affected by a psychotropic drug of my own design. It has resulted in an artificial phobia: one which has made you feel fears you have probably never imagined before. Your condition will only grow worse without treatment.

I am the only source of that treatment. If I wish you to slowly become more fearful until you eventually go mad, you will do so. If I wish to offer a cure - for a considerable price - you will pay. The decision is mine. The uncertainty is yours. Do not cooperate with the police or the Batman, and I may be favorably inclined.

-The Scarecrow

"What do you think?" Bruce asked, pausing in the path he had been pacing for the last several minutes, ever since Dick had arrived to discuss what each of them had discovered the previous day.

"Can't say much for his writing style," Dick muttered.

"It gets the point across."

"I guess." The two notes, the original of the one sent to Commissioner Gordon and a copy of the one Marian Davis had received, both lay on an evidence table. They appeared identical. Bruce watched Dick poke a finger at the nearest piece of paper from his seat. "Billingsley must have gotten the same thing."

"Yes. He wouldn't admit it, but he must have. He seemed sure he would be offered the cure, so maybe the Scarecrow's contacted him since then, and obviously he's decided to pay."

"Lucky Ms. Davis and Gordon didn't just cave like he did."

"True. But I can't blame Billingsley too much. It's not easy to deal with fear like that. With trying to hide it..." Bruce glanced at him for a moment and quickly turned away, pacing again.

Dick's voice followed him. "The security guard, Tyrell, didn't get a note."

"No. He doesn't have that kind of money. Plus he was only drugged because he got in the way. The Scarecrow has no interest in him. I'm a little surprised that Gordon got one, but the Scarecrow probably couldn't resist gloating."

"You haven't gotten one either."

"He knows Batman wouldn't pay his extortion money. And he wouldn't give me the antidote anyway."

"Yeah, I guess. Can't you sit down? You're making me nervous."

Bruce hardly noticed the comment as he turned and started back along the same path. "Phobia," he muttered, mostly to himself. "An irrational fear. Why bats? Did he do it on purpose? Can he control what each person became afraid of, or is it random?"

"I don't think it's random. But I don't think he can control it either."

"Acrophobia, the fear of heights. Entomophobia and arachnophobia, fear of insects and spiders. Monophobia, fear of being alone; and mysophobia, fear of dirt and contamination. What do they have in common?"

"Nothing much."

"Why those things then? Does it mean something?" Dick's words finally registered. "What do you mean, it's not random but the Scarecrow can't control it?"

Dick frowned and answered slowly and thoughtfully. "Well... It's just a theory. But Gordon--" He hesitated. "Well, he felt dirty, out of guilt, and it's been exaggerated into a fear of dirt. Tyrell, the guard, said his wife used to tease him about being anti-social. Maybe he felt a little afraid that it was true, and that got exaggerated too."

"Interesting idea." A few remembered words nagged at him. "Billingsley. He said something about not wanting to seem like he's looking down on anyone. Said it a couple of times. And then his dream, about getting to the top and ending up alone and falling."

"What about Marian Davis?"

"She referred to criminals as maggots and vermin, come to think of it. She hates them, and hate and fear often go together."

"So there's some connection, for all of them." Dick was leaning forward in his chair, his eyes intent. "It's not really obvious, except in Gordon's case. Probably subconscious. But I think those fears came from their own minds."

"And the drug just brought them out..." Bruce stopped, staring thoughtfully without really seeing anything. "It could have amplified an existing fear, in the form of something symbolic of what the person really is afraid of."

"Exactly." Dick waited, then spoke as Bruce started to pace again. "So the next question is: why bats?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, why did you get a phobia of bats? Why of something that you use as your own symbol? What's the connection?"

"None that I'm aware of," Bruce said cautiously, not sure why he felt so uncomfortable.

"What do bats mean to you? What are you really afraid of?"

"Nothing!" he said sharply.

"There must be something. We just finished saying that there's a connection between existing fears and these phobias."

"And as you said, it's just a theory." He turned his back, staring blindly into the depths of the cave. Had that been the soft squeak of a bat in the distance?

Dick's voice was very quiet when it broke the silence between them. "What was your dream about?"

"Nothing."

"Must have been something. Maybe it would help to talk about it."

"Look..." Bruce turned to face him, finding Dick's face concerned and set into determination. "I can see what you're getting at, but in this case what I dreamed isn't important. Where this - this bat phobia came from isn't important. What matters is that now I know what it is. It's just an artificial phobia, a fear that isn't even real. It's only fear, dammit. That's something I've lived with all my life. I can fight it. Control it."

"Can you? This isn't like being afraid of someone sticking a gun in your face."

"No, it isn't. That's something real. Worth being afraid of. Bats... that's nothing. I know there's nothing to be afraid of. All I have to do is keep telling myself that."

"Is that what you tried before? Like the time you fell off that roof?"

"I wasn't ready! I didn't know what to expect. Next time it'll be different." Almost without realizing it, Bruce had crossed the space between them and was leaning over the table, his face only a couple of feet from Dick's.

"Next time. They know your weakness now. They'll use it again."

"Won't do them any good," Bruce said grimly, glaring.

Dick showed no signs of being impressed, but after a moment he shrugged. "If you say so."

"Good." Bruce turned away, leaning against the table. "We have to find the Scarecrow. Get that antidote before Billingsley gets the chance to pay up. After I left Billingsley's office I planted a tracer on his car." He pointed at the display on a nearby monitor. "We can watch where he goes. If it's anywhere unusual, we'll follow."

Dick smiled as Bruce turned back to him. "There's Barbara too. She wants to help, and she's going to watch Gordon in case he's contacted again."

"Mmm. I doubt the Scarecrow will ask him for money. Jim's not rich enough to interest him, and he wasn't the intended target of that attack." Bruce sank into the other chair. "Marion Davis - she's also unlikely to pay, and he knows it. The Scarecrow - Jonathan Crane - is a very smart man. Clever and careful, but he has a weakness, the reason he went after someone like Davis or the mayor. We saw it in those notes. He's not just after money; he wants power over these people, the thrill of having a hold over them, of feeling superior to them. He may be content to just let them suffer."

"I can talk to Barbara about it again."

Bruce glanced up at Dick, finding that same smile on his face. "Watch out with her," he said. "You don't want to get too close. And you don't want her getting too involved with this case. Could be dangerous."

For a moment Dick looked like he was about to argue, but then he nodded. "So we watch Billingsley," he said, standing up and stretching before taking a seat at the tracking monitor. "Fine. I can take the first shift."

- - -

Darkness... A wall that seemed to go on forever, as far as he could see. Hesitantly he stepped through the one opening into deeper darkness... A child was laughing softly and chillingly, a sound that seemed to carry an infinity of evil and malice...

"Bruce..."

"Bruce!"

"Wha - What...?" He lurched into wakefulness, finding himself sitting at his worktable in the Batcave, head pillowed on a pile of printouts.

"Are you okay?" Dick was staring at him from in front of the display of the tracer in Avery Billingsley's car.

"Fine. I was just resting for a minute. What happened?"

"Take a look." Dick swiveled in his chair to point at the screen. "Our pal Avery seems to be slumming."

Bruce got to his feet and joined him, leaning over his shoulder. "That part of town's certainly not on his way home, and it's not likely to be any place he normally goes."

"So we check it out?"

"Let's go."

Bruce turned and crossed the room to open the small closet where his costume hung, just as he had done so many times over the years. But this time... The fear had gotten worse. How much worse he realized as soon as he reached out. He hesitated, reached again, and again stopped, flesh crawling at the thought of touching that bat-like mask, wearing that cape like leather wings, seeing himself reflected in other people's eyes as a giant, monstrous bat.

Dick would be watching, couldn't let him see this... Bruce managed to touch it, to wrap his fingers around the hanger and lift it out - the cape swirled, the edges lifting like batwings, moving as if it was alive... He barely prevented himself from dropping it.

"Are you all right?" Dick had his costume on except for mask and gloves, and had stopped to stare at him.

"I'm..." He almost said sure, he was fine, but that would be too obvious a lie. With a shudder, Bruce shook his head.

"I'll go alone."

"No. I - I can do it." Bruce turned away from the expression on Dick's face and steeled himself. It was only a costume. Only cloth. Somehow, by keeping his mind blank, he got it on. The hardest part was the mask, the sensation that he was vanishing into some horrifying bat-creature, being taken over, polluted, destroyed; as he lowered it over his face.

Trying not to show how deeply shaken he was, Batman turned to face his partner. "Let's go," he said.

"I'll drive."

He didn't even have the will to argue.

- - -

The Batmobile got them there in less than ten minutes. Nightwing parked far enough away not to be seen, and the two of them took to the rooftops. In minutes they were looking down on the scene below. Sure enough, there he was: Avery Billingsley with a briefcase in hand, looking tense and nervous as he fidgeted and looked around.

There was motion at the corner, as a tall, thin man in a long, belted coat with a hat pulled low on his head stepped into view, staying close to the wall of the office building Billingsley was standing in front of. Batman watched intently as he moved closer. Jonathan Crane. It could be no one else. Billingsley had stiffened, every line of his body radiating fear and hostility. The two faced each other, exchanging words they were too far away to hear. Crane reached for the case. The businessman pulled it back, and jabbed a pointing finger at him, then held out his hand.

He wanted his reward, the cure, before he handed over the money, that much was clear. It was equally clear that Crane either hadn't brought it or wasn't going to give it up yet, as the faint sound of laughter drifted to their corner of the rooftop.

Billingsley advanced on Crane, his free arm waving furiously, his voice raised in a shout. Two more men seemed to come out of nowhere; from a narrow alleyway, Batman realized on second glance. They grabbed Billingsley, yanked the case from his hand, one of them knocking him down with a hard blow to the side of the head.

Batman was on his feet, Nightwing right behind him as he reached the edge of the roof. Only a moment to anchor their lines and they were sliding swiftly and gracefully down to join the fight, landing with a light thump that was barely enough to alert Billingsley's attackers. The two men froze, then turned to run. Cowards, just like most of them. He charged after them, fastening his eyes on the Scarecrow. Catch him now, force him to tell where the antidote was, and this would all be over.

The two thugs rounded the corner back into their alleyway and disappeared, Crane on their heels. Batman sprinted to catch up, and saw them a few yards ahead, headed for a low wooden wall. The first reached it and jumped to grab the top, pulling himself up swiftly despite the encumbrance of the money-filled briefcase. The second did the same, and turned back long enough to help Crane scramble up and balance precariously. The one who had been in the lead moved to the alley wall and began to climb a rusty ladder, followed by his companions.

By then Batman had reached the wall and climbed it in one smooth motion, Nightwing at his back as he started for the ladder. The Scarecrow was within his reach - he grabbed at the fleeing criminal's foot. Crane stopped long enough to kick at him and then was off the ladder, running across the rooftop they had reached.

Batman followed - couldn't let them reach the doorway they were headed for, probably leading back down to the street - but the Scarecrow abruptly stopped and whirled to face him, hand emerging from a pocket holding what looked like a paper bag - he ripped it open and whipped it overhead, sending it tumbling, the contents spilling out on the breezy air in a cloud of small dark shapes that whirled and fluttered in the harsh illumination from a light over the door.

"NOooo!" Batman barely recognized the scream as his own voice. Terror flooded him, leaving room for nothing else but the image of a swarm of bats surrounding him in a tornado of high-pitched calls and leathery wings, tiny teeth ripping at him... He doubled up and fell to the rooftop surface, curling into a self-protective huddle, barely aware of Nightwing pausing beside him and then running on.

Get away... That all-consuming impulse made him open his eyes again and look around desperately. They were everywhere, a few still drifting in the air, most lying where they had fallen. Trembling, he stumbled back to his feet and into a crouching run in the only direction clear of them, towards a corner.

Once there, he crouched, becoming aware of Nightwing struggling with the two thugs while Crane disappeared through a doorway into what looked like a stairwell leading down. Even as he tried to force himself to go and help, the brief fight was over. The two thieves ran after their boss. Nightwing hesitated, seeming about to go after them, but then he bent to pick up the briefcase which they had dropped and headed back.

"Batman, are you okay?"

"Yeah... Yeah... I'm fine..." He stared past his partner fearfully.

"Sure you are. Come on, let's get out of here."

"I..." How could he say that he couldn't? That he was trapped here by those small, fluttering objects?

"Batman, they're not real bats. Just paper cutouts. Paper. Nothing to be afraid of."

"I know what they are!" Fear suddenly transformed into anger and shame. Batman straightened, determined to show he could do this. It occurred to him how he must look, a grown man terrified by a handful of bat-shaped pieces of paper.

They picked their way through them, Batman hating the way he flinched every time the breeze made one stir, almost as if it were alive and ready to fly at him. Nightwing was at his elbow every step of the way, but his concern was only an irritant, only making the humiliation complete.

Finally, they were climbing back down the ladder, and then stepping onto the sidewalk where they had started. Billingsley had disappeared, but the distant sound of sirens came to them through the cool night air.

"They got away," Batman muttered to himself.

"But not with this." Nightwing lifted the case.

"No. They'll try again." And next time - what? Batman tried to think, to make a plan, to anticipate his enemy's next move, but all that came to his mind was the image of himself shivering in terror on that rooftop. It must never happen again - but at the moment he had no idea of how to prevent it.

- - -

Quietly, she edged into the bar, pausing at the back wall to peer through smoke-filled air and scan the crowd. Many of the same old faces. Her former friends, still here. She felt a twinge of pity for them, stuck in this dreary life with no hope or ambition of something better. She thought she herself had moved on and put this behind her forever - but here she was again.

A few heads turned, eyes sharpened in interest, then widened in recognition and swiftly slid away. Not many would want to talk to her. Not many had ever really felt comfortable around a woman who didn't fall into their neat categories of girlfriend, wife, mother, hooker, drunk, junkie - or victim.

Enough. She saw the people she was looking for, both of them, sitting at the bar. She watched for a time, waiting for them to notice her, making sure they weren't with anyone else. Outside of a few nods and casual greetings, they appeared not to be. Finally, one of them turned on his stool to check out the crowd, spotted her, and nudged his companion. She caught their eyes, nodded her head in the direction of the door, and stepped back outside. When they emerged a minute or so later, she was waiting in the shadows.

"Hello, Danny. Marty."

"Hello, Ms. Kyle." Marty emphasized her name just enough to be ironic. "Kinda a surprise to see you. Since you don't hang with our kind anymore and all."

The best defense would be a good offense. "You fools. What did you expect when you popped out at me like that, practically in front of where I live? I knew I was being watched. Would have served you right if the Batman had given you what you deserved. I was tempted to do it myself."

"We didn't mean nothin', Catwoman," Danny said.

"Does that mean you're back in the game?" Marty asked.

"Never left, boys. Just a vacation." Selina paused. "What have you two been up to?"

"We've been on a job with the Scarecrow."

Just as she had suspected. "That thing at Police Plaza? The attack on the mayor?" She let an admiring note enter her voice. Nothing like a little praise to soften them up. "That took a lot of guts, with so many cops around."

"Yeah, cops and Batman. But we did it. Scared the crap out of him with that bat. Man, that was sweet." Marty was grinning.

"I saw on TV. Amazing, the way he went right off that roof. He could have been killed."

"Yeah!" Danny said enthusiastically. "Too bad, we coulda been the guys who got rid of the Batman!"

"You? But it was the Scarecrow's idea, wasn't it?"

"Nah," Marty answered. "We told him about what happened when we ran into Batman near your building. When he dropped the batarang. The Scarecrow was real impressed. He's the one who figured out Batman is afraid of bats now, but - he couldn't have done it without us!"

"I see," she said slowly. "I was wondering how the Scarecrow knew... but you told him. Very clever of you."

"Yeah, the Scarecrow's kind of creepy, but he's okay. Pays well." Marty was watching her carefully. "But if you want to get the old gang together..."

"No. You're right, the Scarecrow's pretty impressive. And he seems to have a way to get to Batman." She smiled coldly. "I have a few scores to settle with the Bat myself. Tell the Scarecrow I want in. Arrange a meeting, if you can."

"Sure thing, Catwoman."

She watched them go back inside, the thin smile on her face fading. It was taking a chance, a big one. This could mean the end of what she was trying to do with her life, her way out of the dead end this bar and its inhabitants represented. But she could see no other way.

It was time for the Catwoman to prowl again.

- - -

TBC...