Batman Arkham Knight (21 page)

There was no easy way to calm him down. Batman needed to try a different tack.

“All right, Simon. You’ve got me. I am a monster. But Scarecrow turned me into this. Scarecrow hates me like he hates you.” He shifted his tone to conspiratorial. “Maybe the two of us can work together, and defeat him before he turns you into a monster, too. What do you say to that, Simon? Do you want to help me defeat Scarecrow?”

Stagg stared, and all at once his fear was replaced by giddy confidence.

“You hate Scarecrow, too?” he said with a gleeful madness. “You want to hurt him for what he did to us?”

“I do, but I need your help,” Batman replied. “Tell me what happened. Why did he put you in this cell? Tell me, and I’ll let you out.”

Stagg nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes. I’ll tell you. He lied to me, you know.”

“He lied to me, too, Simon. All he does is lie. But we’ll make him pay. Go on.”

“We were supposed to work together,” Stagg said angrily. “My company
built
the Cloudburst machine. It was going to be used to seed clouds over deserts. To bring rain to areas that needed water.” Stagg pushed his face close to the bars and held his hand up, partially covering his mouth. “I was trying to be a good man, a helpful man, but he decided he wanted the Cloudburst for his own reasons. He wanted to buy it from me.

“In the beginning I said yes—after all, what he wanted to do with it sounded like a hoot, but then I changed my mind. I didn’t want to sell him my machine. I changed my mind because I’m a good man. Not like him. He’s a very bad man.”

“Yes, he’s a very bad man. What was he going to use it for, Simon?”

Stagg’s fingers nervously scratched at his chin, cutting into his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“He said he had some kind of gas—I can’t remember its name.” He balled his hands into fists and started hitting his head with them. “Damn, damn, damn. Why can’t I remember? I should know the name of that gas, he bragged about it to me so many times. What is its name? What is its name?”

“Simon,” Batman said, trying again to calm him down. “Stop hitting yourself. That’s what he wants you to do, and we’re here to fight him.”

“Right.” Stagg stared at Batman and lowered his hands to his side. “Yes. We can’t let him win, can we?”

“No, we can’t, Simon. Let me ask you, did he call the gas his fear toxin?”

Stagg leaped for joy. “Yes. Yes, that’s it. Fear toxin. He said he wanted to use my machine to disperse it over Gotham City. To make everyone afraid. But I didn’t have the full picture until later. That’s when I said to him ‘
no way.
’ If anyone was going to turn Gotham City crazy, I told him, it would be me—but I’m all about money, not fear. There wasn’t enough profit in it for me. So I told him no.”

“And how did he take that?”

“He was
livid
. He sent his soldiers after me and they threw me in here. You know what that bastard said to me? He said he was going to leave me here to die. He’s a bad monster, not like you.”

“Thank you, Simon,” Batman said, convinced that if there’d been more money involved Stagg would have let Gotham City go to hell, the same as Scarecrow. They both deserved whatever happened to them. “Simon, I’m going to stop him. But do you know where he is now? I checked, and he’s not on this airship.”

“Oh, he wouldn’t be. The Cloudburst machine is on
Stagg-2
. That’s another of my airships. They’re probably tethered together, so it should be floating real close to here. That’s where you can find him. He would be there.”

Batman started to move out of the room.

“Monster? Where are you going?” Stagg said, his voice rising again. “You said you were going to free me.”

Batman turned back to Stagg and smiled. For a moment Stagg’s fears seemed to lessen and he smiled back.

“You’re right, Simon,” Batman answered. “I said I was going to free you. But did you forget? I’m a monster. I lied. Bye, Simon.”

He shut the door behind him, but he could still hear Simon Stagg screaming at the top of his lungs.

Good. He deserved it.

Batman made his way to a large circular door marked “Emergency Exit,” opened it, and saw
Stagg-2
floating about three hundred yards away. The two ships were tethered together, as Stagg had said. Without hesitation he jumped, and his cape once again unfastened into wings.

He saw a flash of light explode on
Stagg-2
’s undercarriage. Then twin missiles circled the airship and rocketed for him. Stealth ceased to be an option—Scarecrow’s men had reported in. They must have been waiting for him to show himself.

Batman tightened his grip on the wing struts and forced them down. He dropped as the missiles flew over him, missing by inches. They made a wide arc and targeted him again.

Wonderful
, Batman thought.
Heat seekers.

As the missiles approached again, he zoomed up and let them pass under him. The missiles arced back almost immediately, learning his moves and adapting to them.

He had no choice. He dove toward
Stagg-2
, luring the missiles along with him. There would be no time to steer out of the way—everything depended on whether or not Scarecrow realized what was about to happen.

He was closing in on the airship, and the missiles were still on his tail.

If Scarecrow didn’t act immediately, they would hit him and detonate, so close to
Stagg-2
that the airship would explode, as well.

Batman landed on the airship’s hull and grabbed hold. He closed his eyes and waited for the explosion. It was a massive game of chicken, and it looked as if Scarecrow wasn’t going to blink.

Until he did.

The missiles veered off at the last moment, rocketing up and away from the ship, only to explode once they could no longer do any damage.

Batman crawled along the skin to the emergency door and used the voice synthesizer. It was only after the door slid open and he scrambled safely inside that he finally let himself exhale.

Even so, they would know he was there.

His sensors revealed a cluster of red dots, all gathered in a small room at the rear of the airship. Using the schematics, he made his way through the hallways until he reached the door. He kicked it in and entered.

Scarecrow’s soldiers were standing in the back of the room, weapons at the ready. Scarecrow was closer, with his back to the door, staring at a computer screen. Barbara’s face was on it, but as Batman entered, Scarecrow grabbed a bat and shattered the screen.

“Barbara?” Batman said. “Where the hell is she, Crane?”

Scarecrow backed away, behind his soldiers, giving them a clear shot.

“Where you’ll never find her.” He turned to his soldiers. “I’m afraid my schedule has changed. You boys know what to do.”

They raised their weapons to shoot, but Batman became a blur of motion. He dived low and took out the first goon, then, without pausing, leaped to his feet, grabbing the head of the next closest thug and smashing it into the face of another. Both went down fast. A fourth merc—the last—lunged at him. Batman grabbed his wrist, pulled him in tight, and slammed his elbow into the back of the man’s head.

His wound twinged, reminding him that he had placed additional armor there to support the shoulder and prevent further damage. So far it was doing its job. He turned back to Scarecrow and spotted a small machine behind him—most likely this was Stagg’s Cloudburst device.

“It’s over, Crane. Your toxins and your plans. Now tell me where you’re holding Barbara Gordon.”

“Don’t talk to him, Bats. Beat him up until he’s nothing more than pummeled meat. That is the best way of tenderizing tough cuts, you know.”

The voice came from behind him. He didn’t have to turn to know who it was.

The Joker was standing there, again dressed in his wide-brimmed hat and aloha shirt. His fists were covered with boxing gloves and he stabbed at the air as if sparring with an enemy.

“Don’t talk him to death, Bats. Beat him to death. Smash in his face. Cut open his chest. Remove his heart, show it to him, then squeeze it until the blood runs dry. C’mon, pal. It’s all you and me now.”

“Get away from me,” Batman shouted. “You’re not real. You’re a lie.”

“And you’re not? Only one of us wears a mask, pal. And it’s not the guy with the chalk-white face. With me, what you see is what you get.”

Batman whirled and grabbed at the Joker, but he was already gone.

“I’m here,” the voice said from behind. He reached out again, but Joker had already moved. “You need glasses, Bats? I’m right here.”

The Joker was standing in front of him again, arms spread wide, fingers splayed. Batman jumped at him.

“You’re dead. Your ashes were flushed into the river. You can’t ever come back again. You’re
dead
.”

Then he stopped.

The Joker’s blood was making him madder than he should be. It was trying to take control of him. He needed to fight back, but he wasn’t sure how.

“You’re right, Bats. I
am
dead. A figment of your hopes and dreams and failures. And judging from your reactions, you’ve got a load of them. But Scarecrow’s not a fever dream. He’s real. I may have crippled the Gordon bitch, but he’s the one who’s having his way with her now.”

“Shut up, the Joker,” Batman muttered. “Shut the hell up.”

“I can’t. I’m nothing but a sick blemish on your head, which means you’re the one who’s actually doing all the talking. You’re the little meat puppet, mouthing the angry words. But he, he should be your target—not me. And you should kill him the way Gordon killed me.

“So what are you waiting for, Batman? Kill him.”

“I don’t kill.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that. But we know better. Your greedy demands killed your parents. I hope that movie was worth it. You got popcorn and jelly beans and all it cost you was Daddy and Mom.”

Batman thrust a fist at the Joker, but the clown evaporated at his touch then appeared again behind him.

“C’mon, pal. You’re not an idiot. You know I’m not really here, so you’re wasting all that energy when you should be using it to kill him. C’mon over to my side, old friend. You’ll see how much fun it is.”

It was the Joker’s blood talking, and Scarecrow’s toxin was only making it worse. Batman was unable to shut out the voices shouting in his head. If there was only one way to stop him from talking, Batman had to take it.

He turned against Scarecrow and hit him.

It felt good.

He hit him again.

“Tell me where Barbara is and I’ll stop. For God’s sake, Scarecrow, tell me.” But Scarecrow didn’t answer, so Batman hit him again.

He slammed his fist into Scarecrow’s face, kicked Scarecrow’s legs and heard his knee bones snap and shatter. Suddenly, Scarecrow seemed to be in tears, begging for Batman to stop, but he didn’t.

The Joker laughed and leaned into the figure, bloody and beaten.

“Relax, Crane. The fun’s just starting,” the Joker said.

Batman punched Scarecrow again.

“Relax, Crane. The fun’s just starting,” Batman said.

“If only you knew how liberating this is,” the Joker said.

“If only you knew how liberating this is,” Batman repeated.

“Look at me, Crane. I’m amazing. And this body… you wouldn’t believe how strong I am. Though I suppose you’re getting a good idea, aren’t you?”

“Look at me, Crane,” Batman said. “I’m amazing. And this body… you wouldn’t believe how strong I am. Though I suppose you’re getting a good idea, aren’t you?”

“What’s wrong, Crane?” The Joker cackled. “Are you scared I’m going to kill you? Well, news flash… I am.”

“What’s wrong, Crane?” Batman echoed. “Are you scared I’m going to kill you?

“Well, news flash. I… I…”

Batman fell back, staring at the broken, bloody figure of Jonathan Crane, lying in a pool of his own blood, gasping for breath. Pleading for life.

“I—I can’t… I can’t… I won’t…” he said, and he stared at his own hands. Something was wrong—they weren’t bloodied. He looked to the floor. There was no blood anywhere. He looked around him.

Scarecrow was gone.

What the hell is going on?

He felt a sudden pain to the back of his head, gasped in surprise, and fell to his knees.

Scarecrow was behind him, a steel rod in his hand, and he hit Batman with it again and again until Batman could barely see him, let alone think.

“Let me help you, Batman,” Scarecrow said. “You’re afraid of dying, aren’t you? But you’re not dying—even if you wish you were. My toxin is filling your lungs, drowning you in your greatest fears.” He raised the steel bar over his head and slammed it down again.

The bar hammered Batman’s face, smashing him back to the ground, but he refused to scream. Scarecrow stood over him, placing his foot on his opponent’s throat.

“What can you see?” he demanded. “A city engulfed in fear? Your life betrayed by those you trust the most? Your darkest secrets revealed?
What can you see?
”

The Joker leaned in close to Batman and laughed.

“He doesn’t know it, but he’s talking about your parents’ deaths. That’s still our little secret. Oh, and your next greatest fear, turning into me. Well, sorry to tell you this, but that ship has sailed. You’re already ninety percent there.”

“
NO!
” Batman shouted. “I’m not you. I’ll never be you.”

“Who are you shouting at, Batman?” Scarecrow asked. “What fears are you experiencing that are agitating you so? Actually, it doesn’t matter if I know—not as long as you do. So as I tear your mind apart, Gotham City will watch. And when everything is ready, I will cut that mask from your face and the whole world will see the fear in your eyes. Then they, too, will understand what I’ve always known. You’re not their savior. There is no savior.

“And there will never be a savior.”

He brought the rod down again on Batman’s face and this time Batman was unable to stifle his pain. He screamed, and Scarecrow hit him again.

“Now we’re making progress, Batman. Pain releases fear. And fear makes you mine.”

“Kill him, Bats,” the Joker shouted. A second Joker appeared behind him. “You can’t let him kill you. That’s my job. Kill the ’Crow.” A third Joker joined the chorus, then a fourth. “KILL THE ’CROW!”