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Afternoon of Thursday, November 1, 2001
The Scarecrow arrived in the tunnel system underneath Gotham State University. Phobos was crossing the corridor from one cell to another, with Deimos close behind carrying a tray packed with hypodermic needles, medical waste disposal bags and sports squeeze bottles.
“Phobos,” The Scarecrow called, “have you given Batman his ‘medicine?’”
“Yes,” the red-head replied, “and we were also able to get some sugar-water into him.”
“Excellent,” the blank-faced criminal praised. “I don’t want him to dehydrate.”
“We were just about to give Robin his daily injection.” Deimos explained. Then she asked, “How much longer are we going to keep him on his regimen?”
The Scarecrow put a brown-gloved thumb and index finger on a brown-bagged face. “I might risk taking him off the Fear Serum in a day or two. It may be that he’s already been driven stark raving mad by the unrelenting terror.” Then Scarecrow reached a decision. “After you give him today’s shot, let’s remove his straightjacket and see how he reacts.”
The unholy trio entered the cell containing the Teen Wonder. Robin was seated, squeezed into a corner of the padded room. His chin was on his chest with his legs spread widely apart as he stared at his groin, a look of abject horror on his face.
Phobos grabbed a bottle off of the tray and squirted water into Robin’s mouth, some of which he unknowingly swallowed. Deimos then exchanged a hypo for the bottle. The Teen Titan offered no resistance as Phobos injected the fear-engendering formula into his neck. After Phobos dropped the used needle in the disposal bag, The Scarecrow took the tray and set it out in the hall while his assistants removed Robin’s straightjacket.
As soon as he was free, Robin slid to the floor on his back until he was at a point where he could stretch his limbs to their maximum without touching a wall. All the time his chin remained on his chest, his horrified gaze fixed between his legs.
“Interesting,” The Scarecrow observed. “He is obviously hallucinating that he’s tied up spread-eagled somewhere. I’ll check on him every hour, but be sure to lock the door behind us. I doubt he’ll have any awareness at all, but there’s no sense taking any chances.”
The Scarecrow rubbed two hands together. “Now, let’s look in on Batgirl.”
Batgirl’s cell was next to Robin’s. The Scarecrow looked through the eye-level sliding panel in the door. The Purple Paragon lay on her belly, her face buried into the soft flooring, her head pointing away from the door.
Phobos unlocked the door. At the sound, Batgirl began shaking violently.
“Look, Doctor!” Phobos exclaimed, “Batgirl is still reacting to her environment!”
“Fascinating!” exclaimed The Scarecrow. “This could be fun! The fearless Batgirl, reduced to a quivering mass of jelly!”
The threesome slowly approached the prone heroine. After Phobos injected the triple dosage into Batgirl’s neck, she turned the Shapely Sentinel over.
Even The Scarecrow was momentarily taken aback by the look on Batgirl’s face. Wide-eyed, her high cheekbones were accented by a face frozen in a silent, open-mouthed scream.
The Scarecrow leaned in. “Boo!”
Batgirl reacted with a guttural, feral sound that hardly seemed human. Her entire body shook in a convulsion of sheer horror.
“I’d say this experiment in terror has been quite successful! Take off her straightjacket!” The Scarecrow ordered eagerly.
As soon as the henchgirls had done so, Batgirl sprung to her feet. Startled, Phobos and Deimos shrank back.
The expression on Batgirl’s face remained unchanged. Another low moan emanated from her throat.
Phobos and Deimos evilly looked at each other. They then walked right up to Batgirl and shouted, “Boo!”
“Well, boo to you two, too!” Batgirl’s fists simultaneously connected with the human crows’ chins! Instantly, her face returned to its normal lovely self!
The Scarecrow looked on in shocked silence as Batgirl cockily observed, “I have to compliment you on your up-to-date straightjacket, Scarecrow. I doubt even Houdini could have escaped from that one.”
“Impossible!” The Scarecrow sputtered. “How did you-?” A brown-gloved palm smacked against The Scarecrow’s own forehead. “Of course! I should have considered-”
What The Scarecrow should have considered was lost for the moment, as Phobos and Deimos recovered enough to brush past their boss and flee. The Scarecrow made it out of the cell, but with Batgirl in hot pursuit, had no chance to slam the door on the healthy heroine.
Batgirl approached the Felon of Fear menacingly. Before she could strike, however, The Scarecrow held up a hand.
“Rather than chasing after me and my associates, you might want to consider that your first concern should be to minister to your friends. For them, seconds might mean the difference between a full recovery and a lifetime of insanity!”
That stopped Batgirl in her tracks. While the criminals fled, the eerie laugh of The Scarecrow echoed through the tunnels as the Dark Knight Damsel began the process of rescuing her fellows . . .
“Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo!”
Morning of Monday, November 5, 2001
It was difficult, but with samples of The Scarecrow’s Fear Serum available, the laboratory at Gotham City Hospital was finally able to formulate an antidote. Before the weekend was out, Batman, Robin, Batwoman and Flamebird all had appeared to make a full recovery.
Dick felt well enough Monday morning to attend his Psych 201 class. The Scarecrow’s rampage had given Professor Crane an excuse to spend another week on his favorite subject.
“Take the example of the ‘protection racket,’ as worked by the gangster. He wants money - - so he makes people pay him. And how does he do this?
“He makes people afraid - - so terribly afraid they pay him what he asks. Yes - - he puts real fear into their hearts - - and he gets money! Lots of money - - all because people are AFRAID of him!”
A new voice then boomed from the back of the classroom, a voice very familiar to Dick. “But your days of making people afraid are over, Professor . . . or should I say . . . Scarecrow?!”
Jonathan Crane squinted through his oval glasses to see in the back of the room. “What is the meaning of this? Who said that?” A figure stepped forward. “Batman?”
“Yes, Scarecrow, and I’m placing you under arrest.”
“Is this some sort of fraternity prank? I’m not The Scarecrow. This is ridiculous. Go away! I have a class to teach.”
Dick was stunned. His professor, The Scarecrow? Sure, it made some sort of sense, but was there really any evidence?
Chief O’Hara and several uniformed police followed Batman down the aisle. The Chief slapped a pair of handcuffs on the academician while reading Professor Crane his rights.
Batman addressed the class, trying not to look at Dick. “I’m afraid this course has been suspended for the time being. Class dismissed.”
Professor Crane’s irritation had now turned to utter panic, the denials as he was dragged away becoming more and more desperate. “But I’m not The Scarecrow! This has to be some kind of mistake!! I’m a tenured teacher! Respected! Published! Not some costumed idiot! Please, listen to me! Listen to me!”
That afternoon, Robin slid down the Batpole and found Batman in the Batcave.
“I can’t believe Professor Crane is The Scarecrow!” the college student declared.
“The evidence is overwhelming, Robin,” Batman explained. “A tunnel from The Scarecrow’s headquarters led to a manhole in the alley behind the professor’s brownstone. There were signs it had been recently used. Based upon that, the professor’s expertise in the field of fear and the threat to public safety, the police were able to obtain a warrant to search his home.
“Inside they found hidden away shopping bags from the farmers’ market, credit cards from some of the customers at the Cracked Barrel and the contents of several of the safe deposit boxes from the Eve’s Marque.”
“What about the rest of the loot?” Robin demanded. “And what about the jewels from Spiffany’s?”
“Robin,” Batman responded in a serious tone, “they also found a tank of Fear Gas and a complete Scarecrow costume!”
“But-” Robin began.
Batman cut him off. “As far as I’m concerned, the case is closed.” Batman smiled kindly at his ward. “I know you liked and respected Professor Crane. I’m sorry, I truly am.”
Robin knew there was no point arguing further.
“I’ve got to attend a Wayne Foundation function this evening. Do you want to come along?”
“No,” Robin replied, sulkily. “I’ve got homework. I think I’ll do it down here in the Batcave.”
“Okay, old chum. Beep me if Commissioner Gordon calls.” Batman went over to his Batpole and hit the Compressed Steam Batlift button. In seconds he was on his way back to Wayne Manor.
Robin sat down in the Batcave at his favorite spot to do Dick Grayson’s homework. Try as he might, however, he just couldn’t concentrate on his Intermediate Economics assignment. His thoughts kept drifting back to the question of Professor Crane’s guilt or innocence.
Finally, he got up and made his way to the Batcomputer. He quickly typed an e-mail:
Then the Nineteen Year Old Wonder returned to his studies.
Shortly after five o’clock . . .
Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!
“Hello. This is Robin speaking.”
“Hi, Robin. This is Batgirl. What’s up?” Barbara Gordon had called her father’s office from her apartment and asked Bonnie to patch Batgirl through to the Hot Line.
“Batgirl, I think Batman has made a mistake with the arrest of Professor Jonathan Crane. Batman’s not quite himself. He was more deeply effected by his experience under the influence of The Scarecrow’s Fear Serum than he’s willing to admit. I don’t believe Professor Crane is The Scarecrow!”
Batgirl was genuinely surprised by her younger friend’s words. The thought of Batman arresting the wrong person was almost unthinkable. “I thought the case against Crane was airtight.”
“I don’t know,” Robin said skeptically. “It’s almost too pat, like someone was setting him up.” Robin didn’t dare tell Batgirl about the attitude the professor had expressed towards costumed criminals in class.
“But it does all fit, Robin,” Batgirl pointed out. “From the videos it was determined The Scarecrow was five foot, nine, the same as Professor Crane. Even the fact that The Scarecrow committed his crimes in the afternoon goes against him. Crane had classes and office hours during the mornings.”
“Something’s not right,” Robin protested. “After all, he didn’t have classes or office hours on Sunday. Besides, except for the farmers’ market and Spiffany’s, none of his targets make sense. Why rob a Cracked Barrel Restaurant and the Eve’s Marque? How much money would there be in a restaurant like that and what are the chances of anything really valuable being in a hotel safe?”
Batgirl was beginning to have some doubts, “Well . . .”
“And where’s the rest of what the gang stole? Surely he didn’t give most of it to those two henchwomen!”
“What do you propose we do?” Batgirl asked.
There was silence for a moment. “I can’t help but feel we’re missing something . . . but to change the subject for a moment, I want to thank you for rescuing us all.”
“Oh, Robin, no thanks necessary, especially after all the times you and Batman have saved me. I must say, though, I was quite worried about the four of you. Those delusions must have been dreadful!”
“Yes,” Robin said simply. He wanted to avoid Batgirl asking what his hallucination was. “By the way, why do you think you were immune to the Fear Serum?”
I’ve been wondering about that myself,” Batgirl admitted. “Maybe it’s because I endured the Fear Gas without any medication. Or maybe because I faced my greatest fear in Teen Supreme’s isolation tank or, perhaps, due to the fact I survived Playgirl’s and Nora Clavicle’s virtual realities or-”
“Holy Association!” Robin shouted. “That’s it!”
In an old brownstone less than two blocks away from Professor Jonathan Crane’s residence, a figure concealed in shadows stuffed jewels and cash amidst clothes and personal items in two large suitcases.
‘Now that Crane’s been arrested, I can leave town. For the time being, The Scarecrow will retire.’ Very self-satisfied, the five foot, nine inch person sang softly, “Pull up to the bumper . . .”
“In just a few minutes, a squad car will be pulling up to here!” a female voice announced. Batgirl and Robin were standing in the doorway, blocking the only exit from the room.
Bright white teeth clenched in a scowl and the whites of piercing eyes flashed at the Dynamite Duo as the dark figure whirled around. The flat-topped head bobbed as wide ruby lips parted to snarl, “You!”
“It’s all over, Scarecrow,” Robin announced, “or should I say . . .
Doctor Grace Bergman?!”
The beautiful African-American scientist was strong and wiry. The woman would have eagerly pitted her fighting skills against Batgirl, but she had been defeated in hand-to-hand combat by Robin once before. Bergman knew she had no chance against the two of them. With Phobos and Deimos long gone with their shares of the loot, she knew it was hopeless. “How did you figure it out?”
“Professor Crane is, perhaps, the world’s leading authority on fear, but there was nothing in his background to suggest he could create your fear-causing chemicals,” Robin explained. “That would take a biochemist, such as yourself. When I checked and discovered that you owned a building near Gotham State University and found you had been part of the prison work detail Legs Parker set free, it all came together.
“But why frame Professor Crane?” Robin asked as he slipped a pair of Batcuffs onto the doctor’s wrists.
“No particular reason,” the villainess answered, “except he seemed like an obvious choice. I knew if I succeeded in driving any of you masked sheros or heros insane, I needed a scapegoat if I was ever going to get any peace.”
“And why target the Cracked Barrel and the Eve’s Marque?” Batgirl wanted to know.
Bergman’s expression and demeanor turned from defeated to angry. “The management of both of those establishments suffer from xenophobia, the fear of the different! The Cracked Barrel discriminates against lesbians and gays, while the Eve’s Marque is biased against blacks and women! You should be aware of that, Batgirl!”
The siren of a squad car arriving outside was heard. Less than a minute later, Chief O’Hara and two uniformed police burst into the room. After giving Doctor Bergman the Miranda warning, they had led her to the door, when suddenly she turned and stared menacingly at Batgirl.
“You may have defeated me this time, Batgirl, but be warned: I liked being the boss. The Scarecrow shall return! . . . and next time, I’ll create a substance that will destroy your mind,
"one fear at a time!”
Once Doctor Bergman had been taken away, Batgirl and Robin shared an involuntary shudder.
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