Nights blurred together, a haze of passion and vigilantism. George's days were filled with Barda's warmth, his nights with Selina's sultry allure and Gotham's endless cries for salvation.
On the rooftop of GCPD, Commissioner Gordon stood, his weathered face illuminated by the harsh glow of the Bat-signal. Batman materialized from the shadows, a towering figure of muscle and menace.
"Jesus!" Gordon startled. "You gotta stop doing that."
"What is it, Commissioner?" Batman's voice was gravel and steel.
Gordon lit a cigarette, his hands shaking slightly. "We've got a problem. Big one. Attacks on Gotham's elite. But it's not your average mugging or kidnapping."
"Details," Batman demanded.
"Victims found unharmed physically, but..." Gordon hesitated, taking a long drag. "Their minds are shattered. Pure terror etched on their faces."
Batman's eyes narrowed behind the cowl. "Any connections between the victims?"
"All influential. Judges, CEOs, even a few dirty cops we've been watching. But here's the kicker - no demands, no ransom. Just... fear."
The voice in George's head cackled. "Scarecrow. This should be fun, kid."
Batman remained silent, processing. He knew who was behind this, but Gordon wasn't ready for that revelation. Not yet.
"I'll look into it," Batman growled, turning to leave.
"Wait!" Gordon called out. "There's more. Whispers on the street. They're calling him... Scarecrow."
Batman paused, his cape billowing in the night wind. "Scarecrow," he repeated, letting the name hang in the air.
"You know something?" Gordon pressed.
"Not yet," Batman lied. "But I will."
With that, he was gone, leaving Gordon alone on the rooftop, the taste of fear as bitter as the smoke in his mouth.
Batman swung through the city, the voice chimed in again. "Time to face your fears, George. Think you can handle it?"
Batman wondered what his worst fears would look like.
* * *
The Batcave hummed with tension, screens flickering with data on Gotham's elite. George, still in his suit minus the cowl, paced like a caged beast.
Alfred's voice cut through the cave's gloom. "Master George, perhaps a cup of tea to calm your nerves?"
"Fuck the tea, Alfred. We need a plan."
Big Barda, lounging against the Batmobile, raised an eyebrow. "Language, little man."
George shot her a look that could melt steel. "Not now, Barda."
The voice in his head chuckled. "She's right, you know. Cool it, kid."
George gritted his teeth, forcing himself to focus. "Scarecrow's targeting the city's power players. We need to draw him out."
Alfred's face creased with concern. "Surely you're not suggesting..."
"A party," George interrupted. "We throw a goddamn party."
Barda straightened, intrigued. "Go on."
"We invite Gotham's most corrupt. Judges on the take, dirty cops, embezzling CEOs. The whole rotten lot."
Alfred's eyes widened. "Master George, that's practically inviting disaster."
"Exactly," George grinned, a predatory gleam in his eye. "Scarecrow won't be able to resist."
Barda nodded slowly. "It's risky. I like it."
George turned to the computer, fingers flying over the keys. "Alfred, start the guest list. Make it exclusive, VIP only. The kind of event Gotham's elite would kill to attend."
"Very good, sir," Alfred replied, resignation in his voice.
Barda moved closer, her presence a mix of comfort and challenge. "And what about security?"
"Minimal," George replied. "We can't spook Scarecrow. But I'll have a few tricks up my sleeve."
The voice in his head cackled. "Oh, this is going to be fun."
George ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. "We'll need to be ready for anything. Scarecrow's fear toxin, hostage situations, the works."
Barda placed a hand on his shoulder, her touch electric even through the suit. "We will be."
George turned, meeting her eyes. For a moment, the weight of what they were planning hung between them.
Barda leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. "For luck," she murmured.
George touched the spot where her lips had been. The trap was set. Now, all they had to do was wait for the prey to arrive.
* * *
The ballroom of Wayne Manor glittered with false smiles and blood money. George Wayne, dressed in a suit that cost more than most people's homes, played the part of gracious host. His black eyes scanned the crowd, a predator among prey.
"Well, well," a sultry voice purred behind him. "If it isn't Gotham's favorite playboy."
George turned, coming face to face with Selina Kyle. Her dress clung to her curves like a second skin, green eyes sparkling with mischief.
"Ms. Kyle," he nodded, keeping his voice neutral. "Enjoying the party?"
Selina pressed closer, her lips brushing his ear. "Not as much as I enjoyed our little... rendezvous the past nights."
George's jaw clenched. "This isn't the time or place, Selina."
"Oh?" She pouted, running a finger down his chest. "I thought you liked living dangerously. Remember that rooftop in Crime Alley? The way you-"
"Enough," George growled, grabbing her wrist. The voice in his head cackled with glee.
Selina's eyes flashed. "You weren't saying 'enough' when I had my legs wrapped around you, kitten."
George forced a smile, painfully aware of the eyes on them. "Why don't we continue this conversation... elsewhere?"
He led Selina away, warning her that this is a staged party to draw out the Scarecrow. When he came back, George caught sight of Judge Faden, belly full of champagne and pockets lined with bribes. The urge to put his fist through the man's face was almost overwhelming.
"Steady, kid," the voice whispered. "Save it for the main event."
Hours crawled by. George glad-handed corrupt officials, made small talk with mob bosses. Each fake laugh, each handshake with blood-stained fingers, made his skin crawl.
Then, the lights flickered.
A cold wind swept through the ballroom. Screams erupted as a figure materialized in the center of the dance floor.
Scarecrow. Burlap mask hiding God-knows-what, fear toxin ready to flow.
"Ladies and gentlemen," his raspy voice cut through the panic. "Welcome to your worst nightmares."
George's eyes narrowed. Show time.
Chaos erupted. Scarecrow's masked goons swarmed the ballroom, spraying fear toxin from canisters. Screams pierced the air as Gotham's elite crumpled, clawing at invisible horrors.
"Shit," George hissed, slipping away from the pandemonium. The voice in his head laughed. "Time to play, kiddo."
In seconds, he was in the Batcave. Alfred stood ready, cowl and gear in hand. "Sir, the situation upstairs-"
"I know," George growled, stripping off his tux. "Scarecrow brought friends. Bastard's getting cocky."
The batsuit slid on like a second skin. George grabbed the gas mask, custom-built to filter Crane's latest concoctions. "Alfred, initiate lockdown. No one gets in or out."
"Very good, sir. And the guests?"
George's eyes, black as pitch, narrowed behind the mask. "They made their choices. Now they face the consequences."
He grappled back up, emerging through a hidden panel. The ballroom was a nightmare come to life. Judge Faden writhed on the floor, screaming about rats. Commissioner Loeb fired wildly at shadows.
And there, in the center of it all, stood Scarecrow. His ragged form towered over a cowering socialite, needle-tipped fingers caressing her face.
"Now, now," Crane's voice oozed false sympathy. "Tell me your deepest fears, my dear. Let the terror consume you."
"How about you face your own fears, Crane?" Batman's modulated voice cut through the chaos.
Scarecrow's head snapped up, those dead eyes locking onto the Dark Knight. "Ah, the Bat arrives. Come to save your precious elite?"
Batman's fists clenched. "I'm here to put you down. For good."
Scarecrow cackled, spreading his arms wide. "Then by all means, Dark Knight. Show me what you've got."
Batman moved like a shadow, his fists connecting with surgical precision. Thugs dropped like flies, bones cracking under his onslaught.
"Is that all you've got?" he snarled, hurling a goon through a table.
The voice in his head cackled. "That's it, kid. Make 'em bleed."
Scarecrow's laughter echoed through the chaos. "My, my, Batman. Such violence. What would dear Gotham think?"
"Shut your goddamn mouth, Crane!" Batman roared, spinning to face the Master of Fear.
But Scarecrow was already retreating, slipping through a side door. "Catch me if you can, Dark Knight!"
"Shit!" Batman cursed, vaulting over writhing bodies. He burst into the hallway, catching a glimpse of burlap disappearing around a corner.
The chase was on.
Batman's boots pounded marble floors, breath hissing through clenched teeth. Scarecrow always one step ahead, taunting, always taunting.
"What's the matter, Batman? Afraid you can't keep up?"
They crashed through the kitchens, staff scattering in terror. Pots clattered, knives flashed. Batman ducked, weaved, never losing sight of his prey.
Up stairs, down corridors. A deadly game of cat and mouse.
Finally, a dead end. Scarecrow, cornered on a balcony overlooking the Gotham skyline.
Batman's eyes, black as pitch hidden beneath white lens, locked onto his enemy. "Nowhere left to run, Crane."
Scarecrow's laughter dripped with venom. "Who says I'm running?"
The air crackled with tension. Two monsters, face to face. The hunt was over. The real fight was about to begin.
Batman lunged, fists flying. Scarecrow dodged, barely. "Getting slow, Crane," Batman growled.
"Am I?" Scarecrow cackled. "Or are you just predictable?"
They danced across the balcony, a brutal ballet. Batman's blows cracked ribs. Scarecrow's needles grazed armor.
"Give it up," Batman snarled. "You're finished."
Scarecrow stumbled, cornered. "Perhaps. But not before-"
A hidden canister. A hiss of gas. Batman's mask, knocked askew.
"Shit!" Batman cursed, inhaling toxin. The world warped.
Scarecrow's laughter faded. "Sweet dreams, Dark Knight."
Batman's vision swam. He waited for the horrors, the nightmares.
Nothing.
Just... silence.
And then, a voice. Familiar. Mocking.
"What's the matter, kiddo? Afraid of a little peace and quiet?"
Batman's eyes widened.
Silence. Crushing, suffocating silence.
Batman blinked, expecting monsters, demons, his parents' corpses. Nothing. Just... emptiness.
"What the hell?" he growled.
The voice in his head chuckled. "Welcome to your personal hell, kiddo."
Suddenly, he was George again. No cape, no cowl. Just a kid in a classroom, staring at a blank worksheet.
"Mr. Wayne," a faceless teacher droned, "your life goals?"
George's pen hovered, trembling. The page remained empty.
Flash. A dingy apartment. George, older, fatter, slouched on a couch. TV blaring. Pizza boxes piled high.
"This can't be-" Batman choked.
"But it is," the voice sneered. "Your greatest fear. Mediocrity."
Another shift. Wayne Manor. George in a suit, shuffling papers. Board meetings. Charity galas. No bat signal in the sky.
"No," Batman snarled. "I'm more than this. I'm-"
"Nothing," the voice finished. "Without the mask, without the mission, what are you?"
Memories flooded back. A highschool nobody. Comic books his only escape. Dreams of being something more.
Batman fell to his knees, gasping. "I can't go back. I won't."
The voice laughed. "Then prove it, kid. Show me you're not just another worthless brat playing dress-up."
Batman's fists clenched. His eyes, black as night, snapped open.
"I. AM. BATMAN!"
The hallucination shattered.
Batman gasped, his lungs burning. Gotham's night air hit him like a sledgehammer. Scarecrow was gone. Vanished into the shadows.
"Shit," Batman growled. "Lost him."
The voice in his head chuckled. "Tough break, kid. Guess fear got the best of you after all."
Batman leaned against the balcony railing, chest heaving. His mind raced, replaying the nightmare. Mediocrity. Monotony. A life without purpose.
"Didn't know that scared me," he muttered.
"Everyone's afraid of something," the voice mocked. "Even you, Bats."
Batman's eyes narrowed. "Maybe. But fear doesn't define us. It's how we face it."
He looked out over Gotham, its lights twinkling like fallen stars. A city of millions. Each life unique. Each with its own struggles, triumphs, purpose.
"Even the ordinary have meaning," Batman realized. "It's not about being extraordinary. It's about doing what's right."
The voice snorted. "Getting soft on me, kid?"
Batman's lips curled into a snarl. "Not a chance. But perspective helps."
He pulled his cowl off, wincing at the lingering effects of the toxin. Scarecrow was in the wind. The hunt would have to wait.
"Time to call it a night," Batman growled. "Got corrupt figures to schmooze down there."
He switched out of his suit & the voice cackled. "Sweet dreams, Georgie-boy. Don't let the mundane bite."
Batman's only response was a grunt.
Wayne Manor. Once a beacon of Gotham's elite. Now a war zone.
Glass crunches under polished shoes. Dust hangs thick in the air. George Wayne stands amid the wreckage, his eyes cold steel.
Gordon approaches. Worry etched on his face like a bad tattoo.
"George. What the hell?"
Wayne's voice is gravel and ice. "Crane. Scarecrow."
Bullock snorts. Useless as always.
George scans the room. Corrupt faces. Fear-stained suits. His trap backfired.
"Excuse me, gentlemen."
A fat cat in an expensive suit waddles up. "Wayne. This a setup?"
George's glare could cut diamond. "Bad luck. Now beat it."
Gordon's hand on his shoulder. Concern in those tired eyes.
"You okay, son?"
A lie forms on George's lips. "Fine, Jim. Just need a minute."
The vultures clear out. George retreats to a corner. Exhaustion seeps into his bones.
Then she's there. Big Barda. A goddess of war in heels.
"Could've stopped him, George." Her voice rumbles like distant thunder.
George doesn't look up. "I know."
She moves fast. Grabs his collar. Slams him against the wall. Her strength terrifying, intoxicating.
"Not including me was a mistake and you know it."
Silence hangs between them. Heavy. Dangerous.
George meets her gaze. No more lies. "I screwed up. Won't happen again."
Barda's lips curl into a predatory grin. "Damn straight."
She kisses him. Hard. Fierce. A battle and a promise.
When she pulls back, her eyes burn with challenge and desire.
"Don't forget it," she growls.
George nods. Still reluctant to include Barda in his crime fighting against Gotham. "I won't."
Barda stalks away. A force of nature barely contained.
George watches her go. His mind racing. His body aching.
He's Batman. But he's not alone. Not anymore.