Chapter Three: Favors Sold and Favors Owed
Part One: The Clown and the Crane

It was such a shame, Jonathan thought, he would have enjoyed to re-gas the Batman and have studied him. What drove a man to dress up in the attire of a demonic mammal of the night and go around taking his anger issues out on Gotham's worst?

Scarecrow felt the pull of the mask from his face and Crane immediately looked the Batman up and down, ever analytical he wondered what was going on inside that man's head right now. He got a glimpse when the dark knight spoke to one of the copycats tied up next to him, "Don't let me find you out here again." Crane's first treatment would be that rough voice.

"We're tryin' to help you." This one had a heavy accent, a local born and raised most likely.

"I don't need help."

"Not my diagnosis." Crane retorted with a smug, knowing smile. He watched the caped crusader lower into the… tank? It had to be some experimental military-grade vehicle, right? Tank did seem the most accurate word without truly knowing.

"What gives you the right? What's the difference between you and me?" The copycat persisted.

Scarecrow could easily think of a vividly diverse handful.

"I'm not wearing hockey pads." As quickly as he had come the Batman was driving away. No doubt he had informed Gotham's finest as he did. Crane had yet to hear any sirens.

He sat bored listening to copycat bats drone on about how he and his men were going to jail and justice would be served and the most unintelligent swears from his goon's mouths in return. He'd probably end up in Blackgate for only a short time. Jonathan was too crafty to not get himself back into Arkham as an inmate where he would know every tunnel, every door code, that the janitor's closet on the third floor was never locked…

His thoughts were cut by the sound of many boots stepping closer. He thought perhaps he may have a concussion after all. The Batman dropping onto the roof of the van with the force of a boulder had the vehicle's top smack him rather hard. He still had not heard any sirens as the men approached.

"Well." A single word and smack of lips came resounding from nearby. Just around the car where his vision was blocked. Jonathan tipped his head up looking for the source. In that word, he could tell many things about the individual. Their tone was sarcastic and curious, and they might have had dry mouth. However, the many other things he thought he could also tell were very wrong as he spied someone most peculiar once they came into view, "You know, heh, this is so embarrassing," the man with the colorful purple and green scheme get-up stepped over to Jonathan, kicking away one of the copycat Batman's feet, "bu-T. I'm a big fan of your work, could I," he crouched down resting on the balls of his feet and flicked out a pocketknife, "could I get your autograph?"

A greasepaint-wearing clown had just asked him for his autograph? Jonathan almost laughed. Gotham was certainly getting more exciting. He held up his wrists, showing off the thick black handcuff zip tie he'd be unable to remove himself in any short amount of time. It was promptly cut. The clown's men began to cut loose Scarecrow's and the Russian's men as well. The bad blood between them had been quelled for the present as they were allies against the dark knight. Though they would certainly part ways to do this little song and dance another time.

The copycats had fallen mostly silent. Understanding a bit of the situation they were now in being the only ones left tied up. Glancing around one of them finally spoke up, "You're that guy, the Joker. He'll come back for you."

Genuine confusion seemed to paint this Joker's features, "Who?" Every time Joker spoke it sounded like the end of a bad punch line to Jonathan, no matter the word. His eccentric vocal inflections were rampant throughout his sentences and gave to his sense of a very unstable set of emotions. It was like listening to an audiobook on the art of seduction of the voice – he commanded a presence through his voice alone. At the copycat's silence, the Joker made the most logical guess, "The Bat? Oh no, you see he's pretty busy elsewhere at the moment. That," Joker pointed to the concrete ceiling with the knife tip; though he did mean the sky above it, "light in the sky. It wasn't for a little drug meet." His head snapped around towards Crane, "No offense."

Jonathan had already stood up, rubbing his wrists and checking his mask for any faulty, "None taken."

"So, where was I? Oh right." The Joker got up from the balls of his feet and began to pace still waving that knife around, "He's not coming back and the police; well they're a little… understaffed at the moment." The more the man spoke the more restless it made the copycats feel. Jonathan had to admit Joker's brand of theatrics could instill quite the fear – he wondered how many people may develop coulrophobia in the days to come.

Crane spoke up not wanting to test how short on time they might be, "As thankful as I am for the timely save, why are you here?" It was not a coincidence the Joker was here. Had he followed them? Was he the backup for the Russian?

Joker's gaze flickered to Jonathan and the doctor could see the coal eyes of the clown move in a way that was as if trying to recall, his scared lips parted, "Uhh; well that's not for free you know," wetting them next, "I could use some more guys and I was thinkin' I do you a favor you do me a favor—"

Scarecrow cut the clown off before it dragged on, "Take them." They were petty crooks anyhow and he had no use for idiots that could not even shoot copycat Batmen. He had planned to turn one of them into a research subject, but, if it paid for his swift release from custody he'd find someone else. There were plenty of unfortunate souls living on the streets of Gotham no one would miss.

"I'm allll-so here to pick up Gotham's newest T.V. star." At the raise of Jonathan's brows, the Joker pointed to the copycats, "Tryouts can be boring with goodie types. Since you've already been on the boob tube who d'ya think is the best of the bunch?" He asked Scarecrow.

A sly smile threatened to break upon Jonathan's face, the dear doctor gave them all a once over yet came to rest his gaze upon the one who had been the most annoying, "That one."

Joker nodded his head several times, "He was my first choice too," then spun his hand in the air, "round 'em up." He popped the P. The chosen one was dragged to a van that had been parked on top of the parking building while the rest were being intimidated and tied tighter together in another SUV.

Ding.

Jonathan had been about to take his leave but stopped as they all looked towards the chime of the elevator. It opened to a mousey and tired looking individual checking their phone, as they took a step forward they looked up and froze seeing them too. They backed up one step at a time never letting their eyes go from the men before slamming their hand blindly on the elevator button pad inside. The doors slowly closed.

"That was weird…" The clown spoke with a genuine amount of confusion, "… well, can't have any witnesses to this little autograph signing."

As Joker was about to wave a hand for his men to give chase Jonathan spoke up, "May I borrow a small firearm?" Batman had taken all of theirs and disassembled or otherwise made them useless.

"Huh?" Joker's hand lowered and he swiftly but roughly took a pistol from one of his own men, "What this? You can have it," he laid it in Jonathan's open palm as if it was something disgusting, "I don't like guns much anyway. Just-a one little question, why?"

"That was one of my more long-running experiments," The woman may as well have been at this point since they seemed to keep running into one another in the strangest of ways, "she's frightened of gunfire. It has been a pleasure, please excuse me." He had planned on going to a hideout, taking inventory of remaining products, and sulking about being unable to have a subject to toy with. Yet, fate deemed to drop one right into his lap this evening.

The Joker was liking this fellow a little more and more, the Scarecrow was one of those more controlling sorts – order and all, but he could ignore that for now. The man took care of his own business was the point and he liked that. The good doctor had been a great opening act with that Fear Night to his glorious performance about to rage through Gotham.

"Tch. I never got his autograph," Joker looked on as the Scarecrow stalked quickly towards the stairwell gun in hand, "Oh well, next time." He and his new boys took their hostages. He'd probably find a use for them at some point, or he'd just kill them. He jumped into the back of the van and smiled devilishly wide at the chosen cosplay copycat, licking a canine tooth with the tip of his tongue before running it over the inside of his scars. He did have plans for this one though.