Mr. Syler groggily opened his eyes in a darkened room, not knowing whether it was still day or night. The thick curtains still were drawn in Dr. Crane's office and memories of what last happened just a few hours seemed but a blur in his sleep-addled mind.
Where am I? Why am I here? What just happened?
Then the blurriness died away and focused to crystal clarity on to the nearest object before him – an 8 mm pistol. Suddenly everything flashed before him, buying the cheap pistol on the corner shop, Harvey's Bargain Firearms just a few blocks from Arkham Asylum. Syler had bought it on a whim, a sudden impulse, an overwhelming desire to avenge his brother's untimely death at the hands of madman doctor Crane who had been tormenting and destroying the lives of countless patients for years under his so-called "treatments." It would end here and now this afternoon at Syler's hand with his gun. Really he was doing everyone at Arkham Asylum a favor, whether they knew it or not. But something went wrong, terribly wrong. Now what was it? Syler strained his memory, rubbing his hands over his face as though it would massage the memory into his mind.
A blinding cloud of smoke, a gunshot fire, whether Crane was wounded or dead Syler could hardly say – judging from the lack of body and police Syler guessed not.
But why leave me my gun? Crane are you playing mind games with me?
Syler angrily grabbed the pistol and shoved it into his pant's pocket. Briefly his smoothed back his greased hair and surveyed the room. The small glowing digital clock on Crane's desk indicated it was 10:27 p.m.
I was out for over 12 hours! No matter, I will find Crane somehow, some way. He must return to Arkham or this office. Knowing him he might still be here – why else would he leave me on the floor except to save me for one of his twisted experiments!
Suddenly, Syler heard some shouting through the door and for a moment he felt it best to stay hidden in the safety of the office, but then curiosity got the better of him and he realized he still had a weapon.
If anyone is to make the rules at Arkham tonight it will be me!
Syler shoved the office door open and a billowing cloud of smoke rolled toward him, burning his eyes. An alarm shrieked and flashed red, nurses and orderlies shoved him roughly aside in their mad race for the exit. Somewhere, deep in the monstrous bowels of the asylum a several small detonations went off, probably muffled by thick brick walls and heavy steel doors caving under the blasts. Syler stood in mute shock, the gun hanging limp and near useless from his hand as he stood in the midst of the bedlam.
Now a few wild shrieks came, gleeful at their release from confinement. As the smoke cleared, Syler saw the forms of patients in loose Arkham gowns racing toward him, their hair tangled, their eyes manic. Syler raised his gun, his hand trembling.
"D-don't touch me! I have a gun," Syler cried.
But the patients raced past him, too delighted at their sudden, new-found freedom to care about a man with a gun. Other patients came, running past him toward the exit and he watched, dumbfounded and powerless. But suddenly the patients suddenly stopped and there was a stillness in the hazy hallway. An ominous voice cut though the silence with the edge of knife:
"Why the long face, Syler? Isn't this what you wanted? That the patients of Arkham go free."
"Y-yes," Syler replied. "But not like this. Who are you, a cop?"
A figure walked close to him, tall, menacing in his steps, the long, torn coat sweeping behind him.
"You saw me not long ago in the shadows, not long ago in your nightmares. I am your worst fears. I am what you see as you toss in a phantasm of terror! I am the wraith you cannot see … I am Scarecrow."
In that brief moment Syler saw Dr. Crane, only it no longer was him somehow. Gone was the sharp gray suit, the fashionable glasses, the cool, professional persona. A straightjacket instead hung upon him, torn into a makeshift coat, which hung upon him like pale Reaper's cloak. Those pale blue eyes no longer held ice, but fiery madness and flickering shadow.
"You are nothing of the sort," Syler replied weakly. "Now stop right there or I'll shoot."
Scarecrow stopped but instead of looking terrified, he only smiled maliciously and held up his hands as though delighted in some sort of new diabolical game.
"Shoot me twice in one day? Oh, no. You already had your fun with Scarecrow. Now it's Scarecrow's turn to play."
Scarecrow took a step forward, still smiling, although his eyes now gazed at Syler hungrily as a cat views a tasty, fat mouse.
Syler hand shook terribly, but squeezed the trigger and fired.
Click.
Syler gazed at the gun in panic.
Empty! No! It can't be empty! It can't, Syler thought frantically. I filled all the chambers this morning. It must be because of the one bullet I fired. That must be it. Fire it again!
Click! Click! Click! Click! Click!
Oh, God, no! No! No! NO!
Scarecrow swiftly grasped at Syler throat like a lunging cobra and closed about it like a vise.
"Oh! Are you missing something? You really don't think Scarecrow would leave his prey with a loaded gun would you?"
"Please," Syler wheezed.
"Be grateful, you will have the special privilege of being Scarecrow's first victim in the new reign – the Reign of Terror. And what a great honor it is!"
Scarecrow briefly released Syler and enjoyed him choking and gasping for breath on the floor before gazing at his forearm and the contraption, which held the deadly toxin.
"Now you have two options, Syler. As my first victim, I give you the special honor of choosing. I can give you a smaller dose – and you'll be screaming for hours until permanent madness – I like that by the way. Or I can give you a concentrated dose and you'll still be screaming and writhing in agony, but you'll die quicker."
Scarecrow crouched close toward Syler, his blue eyes hungry and bright with anticipation.
"So what will be," Scarecrow demanded.
"F-ck you," screamed Syler.
He lunged at Scarecrow for a punch, but he was considerably slower and less limber than the younger, lankier Crane and he jumped easily out of Syler's reach.
"Wrong answer," hissed Scarecrow. "Fine! I'll choose the toxin for you!"
Scarecrow turned his eyes down to dial up the toxin, but Syler already was scrambling to his feet and running for his life. Scarecrow's eyes turned up at his fleeing prey.
"No you don't," hissed Scarecrow. "You're mine! You're life belongs to me! How dare you try to kill me before my reign begins! You will pay! You will pay with your life!"
In a speed Syler barely thought possible, he heard Scarecrow's feet swiftly approach behind him and those long fingers twist into his hair, yanking him back.
"You belong to me," Scarecrow cried. "You are mine!"
Syler closed his eyes, expecting the fatal toxin at any moment to envelop him, but instead he heard the hallway fill with the sound of voices, of people running, of shoving, of shoes squeaking against the floor tile. Syler turned and saw even Scarecrow gazing in shock and anger at the approaching crowd of escaping convicts racing toward them – racing towards the exit.
"Fine way to begin my reign," Scarecrow grumbled and released Syler just moments before the convicts collided with them.
Syler barely managed to throw himself into the safety of the open office to escape being trampled by what seemed like an endless stream of orange-clad convicts flowing into the streets of Gotham City. When the last of them were gone, Syler tentatively gazed out into the hallway. It was completely empty. Gotham City now was filled with the worst convicts imaginable and the madman Scarecrow was among them now.
Blodeuedd: Thank you for such glowing praise! This sequel is such a luxury in some ways. I had to abandon some concepts and characters in Shadows of the Mind because they were not necessary for the story and could have slowed the story down. Now with the background and stage set, I feel I can now launch into something even more daring. But as for your story, I am even more curious what is about to happen because a new chapter hasn't been posted in awhile. Must be something amazing indeed.
Firefly4000: Oh, a new reader! Welcome and hope you enjoy the story. Feel free to post more reviews as you are inspired. : )