Samhainophobia

General disclaimer: All distinctive characters and related elements featured in this publication are trademarks of DC Comics. I claim no rights or profits.
The text of the publication is intellectual property of myself, Lana Dragičević. Not to be used, altered or distributed without my expressed, written consent.

Notes: I'm terribly sorry. I had my final exams, which went well, which is nice. So I didn't update at all, which isn't. :(

To those of you who read this story, a heartfelt thanks and a promise to keep a better schedule.

Also, if you fancy a coloured Batman-related drawing for yourself, I'll gladly take your requests and upload them for you on my deviantART page (Given on my user page here). Happy holidays!

Euphobia is a fear of hearing good news.

To Carycomic: Thank you so much for the comment and support. I didn't know about the Underground Railway, I thought it was a metaphore for both escape routes and tunnels. I may change something on that last chapter, then. And I laughed at the mental image of Crane's shovel attack. I would be so like him. XD

To ShimmeringPhoenix: I'm very glad and surprised that I caught a bit of the actual atmosphere of small towns. I love such places in general, they at times seem more humane than the overcrowded cities. Thanks for following the story, and thanks for sharing the info about the town that disappeared in the twenties! Is it a 'ghost town' now, or transformed into something else?

To ColinatorGX: Thank you for the feedback, I love how you catch on to the step by step development of Crane I intended. He is indeed just a scared human inside, perhaps even more scared than most.

To Trumpeteer34: He did pull a Dr. Jekyll on himself, didn't he? XD It seemed better than to always have him gass himself by accident. I'm glad you liked the image of him on the steps.

Chapter Six: Euphobia

A large black vehicle took the first turning off the main district road. Driving slowly across potholes and muddy puddles, it painstakingly made progress toward the remote town called Charleston on the Creek. It was far too large a car for this small local road. Batman's glance raced back and forth through the corn fields, attempting to catch a glimpse of his opponent. He wasn't certain that the Scarecrow couldn't be lurking somewhere close.
His car suddenly ran over a metal object, which screeched in protest. It was a rusty bicycle, lying abandoned on the road. Perhaps the Dark Knight would have been pleased to know it was Crane's treacherous getaway vehicle. He would have known he was nearing his quarry.

As it was, he felt uncertain and ill at ease. The fields stretched on and on, each clearing between them bringing false hope that it was the end. A storm was brewing from the west again tonight, the wind shifting corn stalks, creating an effect of movement.
Suddenly he saw a silhouette to his right and stopped his car abruptly, leaping out towards it. Twisting his body as he ran, he flung himself sideways at the shadowy figure shifting gently in place. What he pounced on heavily was no man, however, and the Dark Knight painfully struck a wooden construction. Straw flew around him. He got up feeling slightly winded and saw that he had nearly been right in his initial guess of the figure; it was nonetheless still merely an ordinary scarecrow.
The Batman shook his head and walked back to his car with a rueful smile. He drove off into the night, leaving his short time acquaintance to remain standing, looking rather the worse for wear.

The next morning proved to be a faint distress for Maggy when she saw that some vandal had thoughtlessly abused her scarecrow. Again.

***

Crane was sitting pensively on the steps of the entrance to Ms Tembrooke's establishment. After a few minutes of meditative silence, he rose. He took several steps forward until he reached the gate to the house, only then turning back. He tried not to think of what had turned out to be one of the safest homes he had ever had. He pointfully ignored the way Mayor Bentle and Andrew were standing around the back of the house, peering at him fearfully from behind the corner. What mattered was that he had reached a deal with the Mayor. He had a free rein now in this sequestered little town, so to speak. Once the reins arrived, of course.

The street was empty, apart from Ms Beth standing in the middle and gazing into the distance like a watchful old prairie dog. Crane went to stand next to her and managed a faint smile. Crickets chirped in the silence. Paper Halloween decorations that had been abandoned during the festival swirled down the streets. The wind was getting stronger and Crane saw lighting in the distance. He looked at his watch and counted the seconds until he heard thunder. The storm was getting nearer and so was his adversary. It was barely an hour until midnight.

'Finally', said Ms Beth quietly. 'Here he comes.'

'Aye. I see him.'

Thomas Grentley came slowly up the road, rope in hand, Crane's docile mare following him obediently. He handed the reins to Crane and surprisingly winked at him with a devilish twinkle in his eye.

'Knew there was something fundamentally wrong with you the moment I saw you, Mr Crane.'

'Grentley!' snapped Ms Beth.

'It's all right', said Crane with a short glance towards her.

'Shoulda known, really. Ain't never seen a live man with a coat so filthy and ragged before.'

'Going to be a mess again very soon, I'm afraid', replied Crane ominously.

'Seen plenty of scarecrows like that, though', went on Grentley doggedly. 'Dead giveaway, if you ask me.'

'Yes. I bet you knew all along. I wonder why you fainted when we told you, then?'

Grentley frowned and narrowed his eyes.

'Didn't faint. My blood pressure just jumped momentarily, that's all.' He gave a Crane a solemn nod and went to the back. Crane thought it was the nearest to respectful acknowledgement he would get from old Grentley.

He stroked the mare's nuzzle fondly. He had placed his few belongings into two saddlebags, which he now strapped to the saddle carefully. He also strapped down his weapon of choice. Ms Beth smoked her pipe in silence and watched on. When he was done with the preparations, she nudged him gently in the ribs.

'How much longer?'

'I still have ample time.'

'Time enough for one last game?' she asked, catching his eye.

'Would you let me?' he said timorously. 'Even now?'

Ms Beth blew a puff of smoke.

'Come, then. Let's get organised.'

***

The car was stuck in the deep mud, the wheels rotating futilely, the engine roaring in frustration. Several crows fluttered away, alarmed at the noise. The Dark Knight pressed various buttons on his command board and the car finally raced forward. There was still time, but he was worried that he might be too early, or even worse, too late for whatever plan the Scarecrow had set into motion. The Dark Knight passed row upon row of scarecrows, each one smiling at him in a sinister fashion. Batman wondered briefly what he had gotten himself into. The scarecrows were too strange a coincidence to ignore.
Slowing down to weave and maneuvre through the muddy tracks, Batman hoped against hope that the residents were in no big danger. He couldn't bear to have innocent lives on his hands. He suspected the worst deep inside. The Dark Knight was a pessimist. It saved time and disappointment.

***

'There. What d'you say to that?' exclaimed Grentley triumphantly. They had drawn straws and he had been playing cards alongside Crane. Ms Beth slumped in defeat and put down her cards.

'Finally! I knew I'd beat you one day...' stated Grentley proudly. He turned to his co-player. 'And you... Bravo! I knew there was something right about you when I saw how you play. Same as me. Takes a man of quality to cheat so well at cards!'

'Oh, you two! I knew it!' declared Ms Beth.

Andrew gave a snort of laughter and smiled weakly for the first time since he had been introduced to the real Professor Jonathan. Mayor Bentle sat to the side, stroking his beard, deep in thought. Crane glanced at his watch and his insides squirmed nervously. It was nearly time. The old woman saw his fleeting expression of despair and stood up.

'Is it time?' she inquired politely, as if they were discussing mundane everyday schedules.

'Yes. I bid you all farewell, then. And I sincerely thank you once more.'

'Thank you, sir' said Mayor Bentle almost inaudiblely. It was the first time he had spoken that evening.
Crane nodded to him respectfully, his throat dry, and stepped off the porch. He was already dressed for the occasion, in his scarecrow costume. He picked up his mask from where it had been placed on a wooden table, hearing the sharp intake of breath from his hitherto companions. The first prize certificate for Ms Tembrooke's Halloween scarecrow lay next to it. It brought up a bittersweet feeling in Crane.
He sighed heavily and left the house, this time not turning back. He walked very slowly to where he had tied his mare to a post. He was surprised when he saw Ms Beth standing there already. She smiled sadly at him.

'I wish you good luck, Jonathan, whatever happens now.'

He stood opposite her and bowed his head.

'Thank you. I won't ever forget your help. And I won't forget you. So now you needn't be afraid of anything anymore', he said.

'Will you come back one day?' she blurted out.

'I don't know... I really don't know. Once I've completed my work in Gotham, I will − '

'You will come back, dear, when... when you've sorted yourself out.' She patted him on the cheek. It felt oddly comforting. The old woman reached out into her pocket and handed him a small box.

'This is for you.'

'What is it?'

'You can open it later to find out.'

'Thank you, Auntie Beth.' Crane reached down and kissed her gently on the forehead.

'Until we meet again, then', he said huskily and forced a final smile.

Crane put on his mask and dark hat with exaggerated care. He mounted the horse and took off down the road, towards whatever fate awaited him there.

***

The black vehicle came to a stop. This had to be the place. The Dark Knight came out of his car, cautiously looking around himself. The streets were completely empty, the wind howling down them eerily. The Batman strained to hear any telltale noise, but only heard the wind through the trees and a distant wind chime. Suddenly he detected the loud clapping noise of hooves on concrete.

Crane saw the powerfully built man standing at the end of the street and his heart stopped for a second. He swallowed his fears and misgivings, drowning them in his concentration. It was the moment of truth. He leaned toward his horse's ear, fervently hoping no one else would hear him.

'Giddy up, Daisy.'

He added more loudly: 'Onward, Nightmare!'

Because you had to have style.

The Dark Knight strained his eyes and saw what was approaching. A fine black horse was coming down the road at a brisk trot, its breath forming thin smoky tendrils in the cold night air. The rider was grim and silent, but one could easily guess his identity.
The church bell tolled midnight.
The Dark Knight walked resolutely forward, his senses heightened to react quickly. If this was going to turn into a showdown, so be it.

***

The horse joyfully sped up into a gallop, grateful for the chance to finally get some exercise. It raced forward, making the wind whistle frantically in Crane's ears. He pulled the reins, trying to stop Nightmare's acceleration, but the mare ignored him in her moment of freedom. The man known as the Scarecrow gave up and held on tight in resignation. Batman stopped in his tracks as man and horse rushed towards him madly. He flung himself to the side and rolled across the ground when he saw that they had no intention of stopping.

The Scarecrow experienced a fleet gut-wrenching moment as the horse jumped. The air seemed to slow down for the second they flew through the night. The Scarecrow's body jolted painfully when the horse landed on the ground once more, its hooves ringing jarringly through the silence. Batman arose, taking out bolas from his belt, as the Scarecrow forced the horse to turn back to face his opponent. He aimed to throw, hoping to tangle the legs of the villain's steed.

Thunder rumbled and Nightmare whinnied nervously. The Scarecrow patiently undid the straps holding his weapon in place. Lightning struck a nearby field, briefly illuminating the square. The Dark Knight flung his weapon as the mare suddenly reared and the Scarecrow swung out with his scythe. The world sped up.

The bolas missed both the horse and her rider, clattering uselessly across the cobblestone square. The Scarecrow swung down from Nightmare, releasing the animal from his grasp on the reins. The horse watched its master uncertainly as he scythed the air theatrically several times, forcing his adversary backwards.

Nightmare pricked up her ears to the sounds of windows opening. She masterfully ignored the cries of people watching the strange scene playing itself before their eyes. The Scarecrow dropped his weapon and deflected a sharp blow from the Batman. The mare briefly paused in her newfound activity of drinking from a fountain to witness her master being knocked down. She snorted in disapproval and continued to gulp up the water.

The Scarecrow squirmed slightly stunned in the steel grasp of the Batman, which was holding down both his wrists. He jerked his head forward suddenly, hitting the vigilante on the nose. He felt his arms momentarily released and used the opportunity to punch Batman upwards in the jaw. Using the brief seconds it took the Dark Knight to recover, he leapt up and assumed a ready pose. The vigilante threw himself violently at the thin man, who merely stepped backwards. Batman hit the pavement painfully, creating a sound not unlike a slab of meat being slapped. He managed to get up and resume circling the Scarecrow, much to the villain's chagrin. He had hoped that the big man would at least be winded.

People had started gathering outside their houses, fearfully watching the ongoing fight. They weren't commenting the situation anymore; they were completely silent.
The Batman and the Scarecrow were simultaneously backing away from each other a few steps, each wanting more space to maneuver. Batman felt strained and anger was building up inside him. His burlap-masked opponent had displayed more zeal than he'd thought. The Scarecrow for his part was unusually calm, feeling oddly detached from himself. He felt as if he was watching himself from outside, not altogether there.

They both struck at the same time, the Scarecrow with his hand at a right angle, the Batman with his steel boomerang. Time mentally slowed down to a standstill, forming a gruesome tableau. The metallic weapon had cut deep along the Scarecrow's arm, through the fabric and into the flesh. At the same time, the Scarecrow's long arm had continued its orbit and the hand had slammed into the Dark Knight's throat in a calculated blow.
Batman's vision exploded into sparks of light, his throat in sudden, searing pain. He fell to his knees very slowly. His brain had gone numb, he was unable to react, all his awareness centering into the feeling of choking. He steadied himself with his hands on the stones, gasping for air. He heaved a few deep breaths and looked upwards.
The Scarecrow was standing above him gravely, scythe in bloody hands. The Dark Knight didn't close his eyes. He couldn't.

'The end', said the Scarecrow hoarsely.

The scythe swung.

***

The Scarecrow never thought he would make it this far. He had been all but exhausted, when his hand had instinctively sliced through the air right at the vigilante's throat. To his surprise the man had dropped to the ground helplessly. Some cruel twisted fate had decided that the Batman was to run out of luck on this night. The Scarecrow picked up his abandoned scythe, slowly walking toward his nemesis. He wanted the Dark Knight to see that he had lost and that he was powerless. To make them both know who had ultimately won. The vigilante's life now hung by a thread all too easily cut by the scythe.
The Scarecrow stood above the Dark Knight, preparing his final blow. It would be necessary to be precise, in case he missed his target and ruined the plan he had put together. Regret briefly stung the Scarecrow's heart, but Jonathan Crane ignored it firmly.

'The end', said the Scarecrow hoarsely.

He swung the scythe and shattered it deliberately on the stones. Jonathan Crane took off his mask, knelt down neatly in front of the Dark Knight and whispered:

'And now I lose.'

Because sometimes you needed mercy, if you wanted justice.