Yin sighed tiredly as she entered her apartment and hung the car keys on the key rack. The Riddler, who had placed his phone call on their way up, followed her in and shut the door after them.
"They should be here within twenty minutes," he announced.
"Good," Yin nodded. Setting her purse on the table near the door, she sank into the couch. It was good to be home after such a bizarre outing. She just hoped that either Scarecrow was being caught at the moment or that she would be able to pick him out from among the Arkham staff tomorrow.
The Riddler came and sat next to her. "I'll let you know if I find any possible candidates before you do," he said.
"Likewise." Yin drifted into silence. It seemed that for the time being, they had talked themselves out. After a moment, however, something new came to her and she gave him a sidelong glance. "You know, I had a long talk with Ethan when I thought you were dead. After the Crossword mess was over, I went back and talked with him again."
"And by then I suppose he already knew that I wasn't very dead," the Riddler said.
"With all the news coverage, he couldn't help but know, even in Arkham," Yin said. "He greeted me by saying he'd heard that you'd got that second chance I wanted for you."
"That must have been interesting."
"It was." She flushed a bit. That hadn't been all that Ethan had said.
"And you've got your second chance, too."
"My second chance? For what?"
"To figure out some more of these mysteries about the dude. Maybe come to like him more."
Ethan had said it with a slightly mischievous smirk and Yin hadn't taken him very seriously. But she had thought a lot about his words since then.
"I suppose he wondered how I survived."
Yin started back to the present. "He did. I didn't tell him about your machine; I just said I wasn't sure how you did it, which is true." She folded her arms. "You told me more or less, but not the details of how it worked."
"I told you more than I told anyone else," the Riddler informed her. "Not even The Batman knows about the machine."
"And you probably wouldn't have told me if I hadn't pressed you about it," Yin said.
"It isn't the sort of the thing I want to get around," the Riddler said. "I'm proud of my genius and my inventions, but that one rarely worked. And at the mere sound of something that can revive the dead, people tend to become a wild stampede. I didn't need that, especially when it likely wouldn't have helped most people anyway. Naturally, if it would have worked more, I would have been only too happy to introduce it."
"I understand." Yin paused. "I've often wondered, what was your reason for inventing those external hard drives for the human brain? I mean, was it just something exciting and challenging for you, something that had never been done before, and you were proud to be the one to come up with it? Or was it that you wanted to make something that would help people?"
The Riddler hesitated. "Now that," he said flatly, "is a loaded question."
"It's that difficult to determine your motivation?" Yin asked.
"No; it's that difficult to separate one from the other. I was proud to be on the cutting-edge of technology and inventing something that would change the way people thought. Julie was caught up in dreams of grandeur, while I was busy thinking of the practical uses and how the discs could be used in everyday life. I was excited about that, and also about the fact that it was my idea. Mine. I was alright with Julie sharing the credit; she had helped the invention along, after all, and I trusted and valued her. But I absolutely wasn't alright with Gorman butting in. I knew a shady businessman like he was would find a way to take the lion's share of the profits, and more importantly, the recognition, and I wasn't willing to let that happen."
"I'm sorry it didn't work out for you," Yin said quietly. "But you know, if you wanted, you could become an inventor now. There wouldn't be any Julie to betray you or Gorman to buy into it. And if he tried, you could certainly keep him from it."
"I've considered all that. I do still invent things on the side, for my own personal use." He smirked. "Maybe someday you'll see the application of some of them. Of course, you'd probably have to see me on the job."
Yin smirked too. "Considering how often we run into each other, and the number of strange cases we're involved with, I won't be surprised if it happens. So if you've been doing anything on your cases that your friendly neighborhood police detective would frown on, you might want to consider changing your methods."
"Oh, now you haven't heard of anyone being killed in some sort of clue-ridden deathtrap, have you?" the Riddler purred.
"No, but I have started to hear about more than one trembling criminal who was shaken to the core by playing and losing a battle of wits against a mysterious opponent. It didn't take too much thinking to figure out what happened." Yin turned to face him more, poking him in the chest. "Or who they were up against."
"Really now. And I thought I was being so careful." He looked entertained. "And just who were these trembling criminals?"
"As if you don't know." Yin leaned back. "Murderers, mostly. A blackmailer, a kidnapper . . ."
"And they all survived to stand trial in your by-the-book justice system."
Yin paused, a new thought suddenly coming to her. "Riddler . . . were you really going to kill Gorman in that death maze you put him through?"
The Riddler froze, as though caught in a lie. But he swiftly recovered, smiling in a secretive way. "Wasn't I? I thought I was very convincing. Although I suppose it's possible that I was instead scaring him with the mere threat of the possibility." His voice lowered. "He ruined me. Maybe I wanted him alive to suffer what I had suffered."
"Was that the case on the ship, too?"
". . . Good question. It doesn't seem like he would have survived all those crates exploding around him."
Yin propped herself up on the back of the couch with an elbow. "I've been learning how you talk in riddles," she said. "I should, after all this time. You haven't admitted it was the plan to kill him even then."
"Maybe I wanted his last living sight to be the destruction of the Bio Discs he stole from me."
"Or maybe you wanted him alive to suffer the ruination that would follow the destruction of those Bio Discs." Yin watched him carefully. "That would be more like an eye for an eye."
"It would, wouldn't it." He looked back. "How long have you known about these trembling criminals?"
"A couple of weeks. And all in all . . ." Yin shook her head. "I can't say I approve of your methods for getting them off your clients' backs and ready for arrest, but I imagine some people would say you're noble for not letting them run free. And I guess I have to give you credit for leaving them alive. More and more I'm thinking that no one could ever know all of the mysteries about you."
"Good."
Yin regarded him curiously. "Is that really what you want? I know what you said about a riddle that everyone knows the answer to being worthless. But you're a person, not something inanimate and intangible like a riddle. People like to be understood."
"No one understands anyone completely. What fun would there be in life if you knew everything there is to know about someone?" He smirked, then sobered. "But . . . a little understanding goes a long way."
Yin nodded, picking up on the silent message. "Okay then," she said.
The knock at the door startled them both. "That must be my men," the Riddler said.
"I'll make sure." Yin got up and went to the door, looking through the peephole. Recognizing the two Riddlemen standing there, she undid the chains and opened the door.
"Tell me, Yinsey," the Riddler said as he stood, taking his cane, "does all that protection on the door keep out the criminal element?"
"Most of the time," Yin said. "Joker broke the door in once."
"Ah yes, I heard about that." He slung his cane over one shoulder.
"Remember, whichever of us learns something about Scarecrow first contacts the other," Yin said.
"Oh, I'll remember," he said. "Just don't forget that it goes both ways. Goodnight." With that he strolled into the hall. The Riddlemen nodded to Yin and followed.
Yin sighed, shaking her head as she shut and locked the door. "What a weird night," she said to the empty room. Then, smiling a bit in spite of herself, she passed through the living room on her way to prepare for bed.
xxxx
The rest of the night passed without further Scarecrow incidents. But across town, under the hill occupied by Wayne Manor, all was certainly not peaceful and calm as morning dawned.
"NO!" Penguin wailed from behind Batcave bars. "No, I'm not gonna polish the silverware! No more silverware! Polish it yourself, Jeeves! I'm still a Cobblepot. I've got my dignity and pride!"
The sound echoed throughout the cave, scaring the bats that often nested near the ceiling.
On the ground, Alfred winced. "He certainly is in a state. Dignity indeed!"
"It's been at least six hours and the gas hasn't worn off yet." Bruce typed furiously at the computer. "I haven't been able to determine any of what's wrong with him. I need a sample of the gas before I can really figure out what's in it."
"Actually, I suppose we're only assuming Cobblepot was gassed at Arkham," Alfred said. "He could have escaped and then become one of this Scarecrow's victims outside."
"Unlikely. Penguin would never walk around dressed like an inmate if he could help it. It's more likely that it happened at Arkham and he escaped afterwards. But with everyone else, they were sprayed once, briefly, and the gas wore off in a few minutes. I hate to think how long they were dousing him with it for it to still be affecting him."
"How very ghastly," Alfred proclaimed in horror.
"No kidding. And they haven't even reported Penguin missing yet. Either they really don't know he's gone, which I doubt, or they wanted him to get away."
"Why on Earth would they want that?" Alfred exclaimed.
"I wish I knew. It couldn't be for any good reason." Sighing, Bruce stood and began to remove the cape and cowl.
"To bed now, Sir?" Alfred asked hopefully.
"Maybe later. If it happened at Arkham, it's just possible Ethan might know something about it." Bruce began draping the Batman suit in its special place.
Alfred came over, resting his hand on the wall. "If it happened at Arkham, chances are no one got any sleep until Cobblepot made his break," he said. "Ethan Bennett is very likely still asleep. It's barely dawn!"
Bruce blinked. "It is?"
"And that is why you are going to go upstairs and have some sleep yourself before you do any more investigating on this case," Alfred said, gently steering Bruce towards the elevator.
"Okay, Alfred, you win. But . . ." Bruce frowned, looking back in the direction of the cells. "I don't like the thought of leaving Penguin down here unattended. And you need sleep too."
"Poppycock. I've gone without sleep for far longer periods of time," Alfred insisted. "Go up to bed, Master Bruce. I will stay and observe our Penguin in his gilded cage."
Bruce smiled in a bit of amusement. "Just don't get too close unless it's an absolute emergency," he cautioned. "We don't want Penguin recognizing you as the Wayne family butler."
"In his condition, he would probably think I was part of his delusion," Alfred said. "But of course you're right, Sir. I won't let him see me."
"Good." Bruce pressed the Up button for the elevator and stepped inside. "Goodnight, Alfred. Although I guess it's Good Morning now."
"Goodnight will do," Alfred said. "Goodnight, Master Bruce, and I do hope you will sleep well."
"I'm sure I will, Alfred." Bruce started to step into the elevator, but froze upon hearing another wail from Penguin.
"And I'm sure Mr. Cobblepot won't," Alfred sighed. "How typical, that his worst nightmare is being a servant!"
"I wonder if he remembers when Dracula brainwashed him into being his servant," Bruce mused.
"I should almost like to remind him, if he doesn't," Alfred said. "But I suppose that would be too cruel even for him, in his current state."
Bruce smiled. "Night, Alfred," he said. The elevator doors closed.
For a moment Alfred gazed at them, lost in thought. But at the next cry from Penguin, he jumped a mile.
"I already set the table twice! For a hundred people both times! What more do you want?!"
"Too cruel indeed," Alfred muttered.
xxxx
Yin was surprised by how well she slept, considering everything that had happened the night before. But she still woke up sooner than she might have otherwise. Deciding to take it as a reason to get back on the case instead of trying to go back to sleep, she dressed and had a bagel on the run as she headed out for work.
Since Arkham was an institution for the criminally insane, the police had tried to investigate every member of the staff. Yin imagined the Riddler was right, that Arkham kept some information back, but she continued to hope that the police files would at least net a good clue.
An hour later she wasn't any closer to learning the identity of the person on the staff who was apparently obsessed with fear. But as she was studying the file of one of Arkham's doctors, something else curious suddenly jumped out at her.
"A former professor at Gotham University," she read aloud. And judging from the time frame, he had been there at the same time that the Riddler had been a student. That bore investigating. She got up, the folder under her arm. Hopefully the Riddler would remember this person and something about him.
Chief Rojas abruptly appeared in her path. "Just a minute, Yin," he said gruffly. "Where are you taking that police department property?"
"I was just going to make a copy of the picture to show someone," Yin replied. "He might be able to tell me something more about this man."
"Oh yeah? What's so great about him?" Rojas peered at the folder. "Do you think he's the one behind all the spooky stuff last night?"
"I have no idea. That's why I want to know more about him. Since I already know someone who might know him, it seems the logical place to start."
Rojas didn't budge. "This wouldn't be that Riddler character, would it?"
Yin frowned. "Would it matter if it is?"
Rojas didn't look pleased. "I don't know what's got into you lately, Yin. First you were running around with The Batman, and that was bad enough. Now it's the Riddler."
Yin's lips pressed into a thin line. "You know, Chief, he did directly save us from disasters—twice. At the risk of his life both times. But I guess that wouldn't make much difference to you; it never did with The Batman, either."
"I still say there wouldn't have been any of these nutcases if The Batman hadn't brought them out," Rojas said.
Yin didn't really believe that, but she came back, "If that's true, then I guess we have The Batman to thank that Riddler was around to save us recently."
Rojas stared at her, stuttering over his baffled reply.
A bit amused, Yin slipped past him. "See you later, Chief."
This time he didn't try to stop her.
"Batmen . . . Riddlers," he growled instead. "What's this city coming to, when those kinds of people are who protects us?"
xxxx
The Riddler wasn't in the office when Yin walked in. But since the door was unlocked, she was sure he had to be around. On a hunch, she turned the rock paperweight on his desk and crossed to the doorway of the panel as it opened.
As she had thought, the Riddler was in the back room, typing on the keyboard connected to the giant computer screen. "Good morning, Yinsey," he greeted without turning around.
Yin approached him from behind, a hand on her hip. "I could have been someone else, you know."
"You're right—I would have known." Smirking, he pointed upward at a mirror.
Yin shook her head in exasperation. "Okay, Riddler." Deciding to ignore for the moment that he was definitely looking at Arkham's hacked records, she came over closer to the console. "I wanted to pick your brain about something."
"Really? Did you find something worthwhile?" He half-turned in the chair to face her.
"I'm not sure. Do you remember seeing this man before?" She held up the picture of Jonathan Crane.
He took it, studying it in thoughtfulness. "Ah, Dr. Crane. I remember hearing that he joined the Arkham staff."
"That's right." Yin took the picture back as he handed it over.
He leaned back. "He was a psychology professor at the university when I met him. He was nice enough, yet I always had the feeling that there was something . . . not quite right about him. He was angry inside. Sometimes it seemed like he held contempt for the entire human race."
"Are you serious?" Yin sat down on another chair. "What did he say that made you think that?"
"Sometimes it was more the way he spoke, rather than what he said. He could sound so mocking when he was explaining some of the theories about human behavior. I particularly remember him sneering at the ideas of love and loyalty. He strongly implied that he felt love was selfish, only meant to satisfy yourself with the thought that someone cared, or the thought that you were being so righteous if you acted like you loved someone."
"That's disturbing," Yin frowned.
"Not entirely unfounded, but I'll agree that I don't think it's always the case."
"Could he be behind the Scarecrow attacks?" Yin demanded.
"Well, he could certainly be capable of it," the Riddler replied. "As to whether he would actually do it, I couldn't say."
"Why did he leave the university?" Yin asked. "Do you know?"
"Not really. The board never really liked him or the way he taught his class. I always assumed that they finally got fed up. I'll admit I was more on his side in the matter; I wasn't too fond of the board, especially after they refused to believe that I wasn't responsible for the malfunctioning Bio Disc."
Yin studied the photograph, trying to determine if she could picture all that the Riddler was saying as being true about Dr. Crane. Not that a picture would necessarily be very helpful to that end, but she hoped to at least discern something from the eyes. Perhaps there was a flicker of darkness in them. Or perhaps it was her imagination. Either way, it wasn't proof of any of what she was being told.
"Did he ever talk to you?" she wondered. "I mean, aside from class."
The Riddler paused. "It's strange, actually," he said. "I seemed to be . . . well, the teacher's pet, if you will. He seemed to particularly like my answers to his questions. And I remember one time when he took me aside after class and told me we were really two of a kind."
Yin raised an eyebrow. "Why did he think that?"
"He said some strange thing about how we both knew we were better than the majority of the human race, in spite of how they all thought we were inferior. I said I didn't think I was better, just smarter. He said that was the same thing. Well, I suppose it is, but anyway. . . . I asked him what he was talking about, since he seemed to be well-respected by the students. He said his genius wasn't properly appreciated, but someday it would be."
"That sounds like something a mad scientist would say," Yin said.
"Yes, but as I said, Yinsey, everyone on the staff at Arkham is at least a little bit off-center. I don't doubt that he had some potentially concerning ideas. The question is whether they extended to driving people out of their minds with fear."
"Did he ever talk about fear in class?" Yin queried.
"It was a psychology class," the Riddler said dryly. "Fear is a huge part of psychology."
Yin shook her head. "What I mean is, did he talk about it more than would even be expected? Did he dwell on it? Maybe seem excited by it?"
He paused to think. "I do remember one time when he described an experiment some scientists in Europe performed to determine the types of things people feared more often than anything else. He talked at some length about how fear of things such as snakes, heights, and death were common and then started asking the class about some of the things they feared."
"Were they willing to talk about it?" Yin asked.
"Some were. I wasn't among them."
"That doesn't surprise me," Yin said. "But did Crane try to get an answer from you?"
"No; he said I was wise not to reveal my fears for everyone to hear. After all, I wouldn't know who might be capable of using them against me." He shrugged. "It made sense to me, so I didn't think anything of it."
"He's sounding creepier—and more promising—all the time. Riddler . . ." Yin smirked. "How would you like to take a trip back to Arkham and see if he still remembers you?"
"Only if it's not as a patient," the Riddler said matter-of-factly.
"It would just be a visit," Yin said. "I'd be with you."
"Then let's go," the Riddler grinned. "If Dr. Crane is the Scarecrow, I most certainly want to talk with him." He started to get up.
"Wait a minute." Yin placed a hand on the console. "What have you been learning here?"
"Nothing as interesting as the idea that you and I have just come up with together," the Riddler replied. He tapped on a few keys and the hack to Arkham was broken. "It looks like they keep certain information out of their own files, too. Or maybe just out of the computer copies."
"Maybe they were afraid of a hacker," Yin remarked.
"Hmm. I suppose. The secret Arkham files. Now that would be something interesting to find." The Riddler headed for the door, his cane slung over his shoulder.
"And the sessions Dr. Crane has with the patients," Yin muttered as she followed. "I can just imagine the kinds of things he asks them."
"It could be further evidence against him," the Riddler agreed. "It might be worth looking into."
"And the Portman woman . . . could she be working with him or whoever is Scarecrow?" Yin wondered.
"For that matter, what if Scarecrow is a woman?" the Riddler shrugged. "I know he doesn't look it, but some women have ways of hiding that when they want to."
"I guess. Scarecrow didn't sound like a woman, though," Yin pointed out.
"True," the Riddler conceded. "Although that wouldn't have to be a definite deterrent against the idea, either. Anyway, just suppose Scarecrow is a woman. Portman could be responsible . . . although somehow I got the feeling that she wouldn't go into the field and would be more likely to sit back and watch things unfold."
"I got the same feeling," Yin said.
"I am sure that she's aware of the experiments and encourages them," the Riddler said. "Maybe she even runs the experiments while someone else plays Scarecrow."
Yin made a face. "Could Arkham really be that unlucky—to have three mad scientists working there almost at once, Strange included?"
The Riddler turned back at the door to look at her. "Yinsey, with Arkham, it can never get too unlucky for anything."
He was completely serious now, and Yin felt a chill run up her spine. "What kind of a place is it really?" she asked, her voice hushed.
"Sometimes it's really only a step or two up from the stereotypical asylums of a hundred years ago," the Riddler said. "There isn't any electro-shock therapy, but I wonder if some things aren't just as bad." Not wanting to discuss it further, he turned away and headed outside.
Yin chased after him. "Riddler!" She caught him in front of the car. "I want you to tell me honestly. Is Ethan in any danger, being there?"
The Riddler hesitated. As he turned back to face her, she could see that he wanted to be truthful, yet he didn't want to hurt her. "Everyone's in danger there, really," he said. "But as for Ethan Bennett specifically . . . I haven't wanted to say it, but I've wondered if Hugo Strange could have planted subliminal messages in his mind that led to him being unable to cope with integrating into society in the past. There's no proof of such a thing, and it's completely reasonable that Ethan couldn't have handled the pressure without Strange giving him a push in that direction, but knowing what we know now about Strange, I wouldn't put it past him.
"As far as I'm concerned, Dr. Portman is cut from the same cloth. I don't have any proof of that, either, so make of it what you will."
Yin clenched her teeth. "I wouldn't put it past Strange, that's for sure," she said. Unlocking the car, she went around to the driver's side and got in. "And I'll be keeping a close eye on everyone there when we go. If the entire staff is corrupt, and we can turn up enough evidence on them, it shouldn't be too hard to get a court order to listen to all the Arkham tapes. Then we'd know."
The Riddler got in as well. Ordinarily he might have made a crack about Yin listening to his tapes, but he could tell it wasn't a good time for a joke. So instead he said, "I'm all for bringing down Arkham's staff, Yinsey. I'll help however I can."
Yin finally smiled a bit. "I know you will."
xxxx
They were coming out of the theatre, laughing, happy, talking about the film they had just seen. It was a lucid dream; he had experienced it so many times and he knew what would happen. Yet it still felt as fresh as if it just had happened.
This time, as with some past occasions, he descended onto the marquee of the theatre as Batman. He leaped down, trying to make it over in time, trying to stop the unknown mugger before he could come out and pull the trigger . . .
A heavy chain swirled out of the darkness, wrapping around him and binding his arms to his sides. He gasped, yelling without any sound coming out, and fought to break free. But even as he tried, the twin gunshots echoed through the landscape of his mind and let him know that once again it was too late.
A cold, cruel voice started to laugh. The chain pulled tighter. "Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall. Humpty Dumpty had a great fall."
"Who are you?" Batman choked out. "Why are you doing this?"
"All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Humpty together again." Without warning the chain flew free, releasing him to fall into the sea of crimson pooling from the lifeless bodies of his parents. It spread farther and he splashed, down, down, into an endless lake of blood.
Bruce sat up straight in bed, his eyes wide, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat. He breathed heavily. He had to calm down. It had just been a dream.
Yet part of it had been real. Part of it had been his reason for becoming The Batman.
He got up with a groan, brushing his hair aside as he stumbled to the window. This Scarecrow thing was really shaking him up, and he hadn't even personally encountered the madman yet. He had been trying to steel himself against the thought of the fear gas, since he knew Scarecrow was very likely to try to use it on him, but in actual practice he knew it might take him by surprise and he would be affected anyway. And he could easily imagine what sort of images it would dredge up.
"I'll get that for you, Sir."
He turned, looking over as Alfred hurried into the room to open the drapes. But upon really focusing on Bruce's shaken appearance, Alfred stopped and regarded him in concern. "Another bad dream?" Alfred had come in after many such dreams through the years.
"Yeah," Bruce nodded. He sighed to see the overcast day outside. It about matched his mood right now. "How's Penguin?"
"He finally fell asleep ten minutes ago and I dared to go up and check his vitals," Alfred said. "His pulse rate seems to be evening out. Perhaps the gas is wearing off at last. I never thought I'd be glad to hear Oswald Cobblepot being his normal self, but after the last few hours I feel as though I've been in his nightmare right along with him!" He shuddered.
"Sorry for putting you through that, Alfred," Bruce sighed. "Hey, I'd really like to get out to Arkham and talk to Ethan. Maybe by the time I get back, Penguin will be awake."
"Speaking of Arkham and Ethan, The Batman received a message from Detective Yin," Alfred said. "It seems that she and Edward Nygma are going to Arkham to see one of the doctors, a Jonathan Crane. Apparently he was one of Mr. Nygma's teachers at the university."
"Really?" Bruce blinked. "I met Mr. Crane yesterday. He seemed okay, but after what Nygma said, I don't trust any staff members there."
"Nevertheless, are you still going to Arkham when they're already on their way?"
"I think so, Alfred," Bruce said, as Alfred was sure he would. "I can talk to Ethan while they talk to Crane. Maybe together we'll come up with something that will help."
"Will you at least stop for breakfast first?" Alfred said hopefully.
"I don't think so," Bruce said, also as expected. "Well, not unless there's something I can eat on the way."
Alfred smiled. "I believe I can easily whip up something to go."
"Great," Bruce said. "But I'll need to drive myself over, unfortunately. You'll . . ."
"I know." Alfred sighed, heavily. "I must keep watch on Cobblepot."
"I'll make it up to you, Alfred," Bruce said. "I promise."
"Just find out who's behind this and quickly, Master Bruce," Alfred said. "And without getting yourself hurt. That will be more than enough to make these unsettling hours worth it."
"You're on," Bruce smiled as he headed for the shower.