Why did all the crazies love to come out on Halloween? Actually if Cassie was honest with herself the crazies came out every night in Gotham, but on Halloween it just got ridiculous. She had already broken up a gang of Freddy Kruegers fighting hockey mask wearing Jasons and stopped a Jigsaw rip-off serial killer because villains today lacked any creativity, using movies for inspiration when they couldn't use past Rogues. She scowled at the thought of past Rogues; the new Riddler had disappeared after his last crime spree over two weeks ago. Still, Batwoman was taking her first breather for the night, and she tried to enjoy the short reprieve. She missed the days when Halloween was strictly a Scarecrow holiday and other criminals encroached at their peril. Not that Scarecrow Halloweens were ever safe or less straining, but at least with him you knew that no one else would be out and the master plan would involve fear toxin in some form. Too bad Crane was now a permanent resident of Arkham; unable to make those daring escapes with a less able body.
Age was a cruel and undiscriminating mistress. She was reminded every time she saw Bruce. A man who once never allowed himself to be anything but at the peak of human physical condition, reduced now to using a cane to walk. Dick said it was better than dead, but sometimes Cassie wondered. Was such a weakened state really better than dead for someone like Bruce?
"Hope you're rested up."
"Would it matter if I said no?"
"Would it matter to who?"
It was a fair question. Cassie didn't have to be up here. If she really wanted she could go home, take off the costume, walk right past Bruce and go to bed. Gotham would survive a night without her.
However, Cassie knew that it mattered. It mattered to anyone she cared about, and ultimately there would be a night that Gotham would not survive without a bat. She stifled a grunt. "Who?"
"It's Halloween. Who do you think?"
Cassie could hear Barbara's all-knowing smirk. She felt a headache coming on. "I don't want to play."
"Scarecrow."
Cassie knew Crane wasn't dead, but the man certainly was too old to be much of a threat anymore. She still checked up on him and the other rogues rotting in Arkham from time to time. Crane didn't get any visitors, so she knew he had no one to pass his toxin off to.
Barbara interrupted her thoughts. "It's not Crane. This one has got a Dorothy and Tin man with him. A best group costume gone bad."
Cassie missed the joke. She just asked for the coordinates and was off.
Bruce Wayne did not like to admit when he did not know something. He rarely ever did it, especially aloud. But he had been studying the pictures, the facts, every possible angle, and something was missing in the Troy case. His instincts knew it, and they were well tested. He needed a fresh pair of eyes.
That was the thought going through his head when he heard the roar of the Batmobile. He didn't like someone else driving his car, but he had little choice against nature's aging process. He rose, grabbing his cane and scowling at the many popping noises of his body. Bruce Wayne was not the type of man to sit by and watch the action, but computer work was all he could do against crime now. He loathed the day when he would no longer be able to do even that. He dwell on the negative later, he wanted to hear Cassie's account of the night.
He only had to wait a moment until the Batmobile blazed into the cave, briefly illuminating the dark space. The engine died and Batwoman popped out. Cassie pulled the cowl off immediately. Bruce remembered her complaining about keeping all her hair stuffed into it. His suggestion of cutting it off earned him a glare, but she never brought it up again.
"Who's this new Scarecrow?"
Cassie didn't even pause on her way to the vault to change. "Nobody."
Bruce followed behind her, carefully navigating his cane so he didn't fall. "He's a new threat."
Cassie closed the door to prevent Bruce from entering but continued talking. "Hardly."
Haunted memories from fear-induced encounters flashed before Bruce's eyes. "Fear toxin is not something to be taken lightly."
Cassie emerged in her civilian clothes. "I know. He didn't have any."
Bruce waited for her to continue.
"All he had was a female sidekick, a robot, and an army of mutants."
That didn't fit with the old Scarecrow's M.O. This one must have something else in mind. "What kind of mutants?"
"I don't know. There was a big cat, a dog, and monkeys with wings."
Now he understood. "Wizard of Oz. He's copying the book not the criminal."
Cassie took Bruce's position in front of the computer screen to type her logs. "I've never read it."
Cassandra Cain's upbringing was both an asset and a liability in Bruce's eyes. She was without a doubt one of the best fighters alive and could now talk well enough, but the simplest bits of trivia still could throw her. It was this lack of basic knowledge that always worried Bruce. "At least rent the movie."
"It presented no challenge to me Bruce."
Bruce remained quiet as Cassie finished her logs. Before she could retreat to her room he stopped her, grabbing an arm. "Cassie, I want to talk to you about the Troy case."
He felt her stiffen but he continued. "You've neglected it. They happened over three weeks ago and we've discovered no leads. This cannot happen."
Cassie's voice held an icy tone. "The police have found nothing either."
Bruce let his voice drop into his Batman growl. "We're not the police." He dropped her arm and made for the stairs. He wanted to check on Alfred before he went to bed.
Cassie heard the clock entrance close and sat down in front of the computer, pulling up the Troy case files. Cassie knew she wouldn't find anything new tonight, but she also knew that Bruce would check in the morning. So she opened them obediently, trying to read the blurred text.
Cassie knew that she was avoiding the case. Not just because it seemed to be a hopeless mystery, with no clues or suspects, but because every time she saw or heard the name Helena, visions of a splattered mess on pavement filled her head. She couldn't admit this to Bruce though. Instead she just struggled to stay awake as she studied the crime scene photos once again.
A/N: I know it's the wrong holiday, but planning has never been one of my strong suits. Anyway, thanks for the reviews or just reading.