Jonathan Crane was startled by a knock on his door. "Goodness, that's the fifth visitor this day!" he exclaimed, looking up from his book and glancing at Lenore. "I blame you, my pretty – I was never this popular before."
Lenore chirped contentedly as he petted her before opening the door. If he had been surprised by any of his visitors before, it was nothing compared to this. "Alice?"
"Hello, Professor Crane, have you seen Jervis?" asked Alice. She was wringing her hands, shaken and nervous. "He hasn't come back home, and I'm so worried…"
"He was here earlier," said Crane. "But only briefly, then he ran off. Something about being late for a very important date. I assumed it was something to do with you…"
"No…no, I dunno where he is!" Alice sobbed, and she burst into tears. Crane was surprised, but ushered her inside, gesturing to a seat in front of the fire.
"Now, now, my dear, we'll sort this out," he said, patting her hand. "Why don't I pour you a cup of tea and then…"
But he was cut off as Lenore suddenly began squawking and flapping her wings violently. "My precious, what is it?" he asked, turning to her and frowning. There was fear and panic in her eyes, and Crane came over to comfort her. "What is it, my beauty?" he whispered, petting her and trying to calm her down. It didn't work – she just kept flapping her wings and cawing at Alice.
"I'm sorry, my dear, she's never done this before…" began Crane, but at that moment, Lenore flew off the perch and began clawing at Alice's face.
"My precious, no!" shouted Crane, rushing over to pull her away. "Stop it!"
He ripped Lenore off Alice, but was shocked to see, instead of blood on her face, blobs of clay. The realization struck him in an instant.
"You…" he gasped, but with a roar of frustration, Alice transformed in front of his eyes into the monster Clayface.
"That little runt is dead!" he shouted, transforming an arm into a hammer and lashing out at Lenore. She fluttered out of harm's way, and Crane seized her in his arms and held her protectively against him.
"What are you doing here, Basil?" he demanded. "Why the disguise?"
"Like you don't know, Professor!" sneered Clayface.
"I don't!" shouted Crane, as Clayface struck at him. "We haven't spoken in months! Since the last time you were in Arkham…"
"Yeah, and what happened last time I was in Arkham, Professor?" demanded Clayface.
"I…don't remember," said Crane.
"You do!" hissed Clayface. "I do! We were all in the Rec Room, and they were showing The Terror on TV! You remember The Terror?! The film that I starred in?! The film that made my name and my career?! And do you remember what you said about it?!"
"No…I…I think I was reading a book," stammered Crane. "I wasn't even paying attention to the film…"
"Maybe not, but you still had to put in your two cents," growled Clayface. "You looked up from your book and said, and I quote, 'This dialogue could have been written by a child.'"
Crane stared at him. "Well, I…imagine it could have…"
"It was outstanding dialogue!" shouted Clayface. "Delivered in an emotionally compelling way from an emotionally complex character! It was the performance of a lifetime! It was a role that Olivier couldn't have bettered! My character was three dimensional, with a heart-tugging backstory and realistic development!"
"Weren't you…the monster?" asked Crane, slowly. "In a relatively low budget horror movie? I didn't think B-movies were known for their gripping dialogue…"
"It was not a B-movie!" roared Clayface. "I am not a B-movie actor! Everyone praised my performance in that film! Everyone! Except you. What do you know about gripping dialogue or acting, I'd like to know?! Nothing. You just presume to criticize! Everyone's a critic, aren't they?! Well, you're gonna die for it!"
"Don't you think you're overreacting a little bit…" began Crane, but Clayface swung at him again, and he dodged out of the way. "I thought actors were meant to be able to take criticism!" he shouted.
"They don't have to when they're ten foot monsters!" shouted Clayface.
"I suppose you have a point," agreed Crane, ducking as Clayface's arm pounded the wall behind him. "But what will killing me solve?"
"It'll make me feel a lot better!" retorted Clayface.
Crane sighed. "Can't argue with that," he muttered, dodging another blow. "Reasoning is clearly useless – time to start fighting violence with violence."
He grabbed the teapot from the table and threw it at Clayface. The scalding water hit him in the face and he howled as he began to melt, steam rising off him. "Need more water," muttered Crane, racing toward the bathroom. A blow from Clayface suddenly knocked him to the ground. As Clayface raised his fist, Lenore flew up into Clayface's face and began attacking him. She pecked and scratched at him violently, shrieking in rage. Clayface tried to swat her away, but she flew in between his arms, continuing to peck at him. He finally managed to slam an arm into her, knocking her against the wall. Crane had by this time regained his feet and raced into the bathroom, grabbing the showerhead from the wall, turning on the water, and pointing it directly at Clayface.
"Now get out of here, Basil, or I swear to God I'll turn you into a puddle of mud," he hissed.
Clayface growled but backed away from the running water, heading toward the door. He opened it and suddenly came face to face with Jervis Tetch and Batman.
"We had a deal, Karlo," growled Batman. "And you broke it."
Clayface grinned and shrugged. "C'mon, Bats, I was never doing it for you," he said. "I was doing it to give the performance of a lifetime, which I did. Talk about emotional complexity! The character I created had it all – torn between two men, the one she had married and still loved, but was making her life hell through a terrible misfortune, and the one who had always loved her, and wanted nothing more than to see her happy. Quite the compelling situation, don't you think?"
"You kissed me," retorted Tetch, glaring at him.
Clayface snorted. "I was in character, like all great actors. Anyway, take what you can get, freak."
"Pot to the kettle," snapped Tetch.
"Are you coming quietly, Karlo, or will I have to freeze you?" asked Batman, reaching for a pellet in his belt.
"What, back to Arkham with the rest of the freaks?" sneered Clayface. "Yeah, I guess. But you'll have to take me and the Professor back separately, or I might try to kill him. Not to mention this freak," he said, nodding at Tetch.
"Mr. Tetch will not be going back to Arkham," retorted Batman. "He's a sane man."
"Really? I thought this whole act was because you didn't believe in his so-called sanity," retorted Clayface.
Batman looked from Tetch to Clayface and back. "I was wrong," he muttered.
"Say it a little louder, please," snapped Tetch.
"I was wrong," repeated Batman. "I'm not ashamed to own up to that. I'm a detective, but a detective can make mistakes. According to all the evidence I had to hand, Mr. Tetch was about to return to his old ways and harm those people. Everything I did, I did in the belief that I was protecting an innocent family. Many times I've been too late to protect the innocent, and the only action I can take is to bring the ones who harm them to justice. I didn't want to be too late this time. So I acted, and I made a mistake. It happens."
"I'm glad you can exonerate yourself like that," retorted Tetch. "Rationalize and excuse your behavior, like all true psychopaths. But then I imagine you're used to doing that, when all you do is beat up the mentally ill night after night. I imagine that's how you continue to live with yourself."
Batman glared at him. "I did what I judged to be right…" he began.
"Then I'd reconsider very carefully what you believe to be right," interrupted Tetch. "I don't think any man does things he believes to be wrong. But sometimes a man's definition of right is wrong, if you see what I mean. And I think while perhaps your intentions have always been right, your methods for achieving them have always been wrong. The road to hell is paved with your good intentions, Batman. The road to my own personal hell very nearly was."
Crane had rushed over to see to Lenore, who was chirping softly. "How is she?" asked Tetch, coming over to his friend.
"I think she's all right," he whispered, stroking her. "A broken wing, but give it time and a little care, and it will heal. You did such a very good job flying, my pretty," he whispered, petting her gently. "I'm so very proud of you."
Lenore chirped happily, nestling into his arms. "I'll come with him to Arkham, if I may," said Tetch, turning to Batman. "As a visitor, who will leave whenever he pleases. I'm not going back there as a patient ever again, and I don't care if you believe that or not."
Batman nodded slowly. "Yes, Mr. Tetch," he murmured. "I do believe that."