Blackbird

LOSES AND VICTORYS

Batman watches from the shadows as Scarecrow's men carry Rachel's unconscious body, laying her down roughly on a rusted metal table. Her face is pale, her breathing shallow—a clear sign of the toxin coursing through her veins.

Scarecrow leans over her, his mask grotesque in the dim light. "Who knows you're here?" he hisses, his voice a slithering whisper. Rachel moans in terror, her eyes fluttering as the nightmare takes hold. "WHO KNOWS?" he roars, desperation and madness mixing in his voice.

Suddenly, the lights cut out, plunging the room into darkness.

Scarecrow's hand moves to his mask, pulling it off with a slow, deliberate motion. His twisted grin is barely visible in the faint light from the street outside. "He's here," he murmurs, more to himself than anyone else.

"Who?" one of his thugs asks, his voice trembling.

"The Batman," Crane replies, his smile widening, though there's an edge of fear in his voice.

"What do we do?" another thug stammers, shifting nervously.

"What anyone does when a prowler comes around," Scarecrow says with a sinister laugh. "Call the police."

"You want the cops here?" the thug asks, incredulous.

"At this point, they can't stop us," Crane sneers. "But the Batman and his Robin have a knack for ruining plans. Force them outside, the police will take care of them. Now go!" he orders, his voice harsh.

"What about her?" the thug asks, nodding toward Rachel.

"She hasn't got long," Scarecrow replies with a cold indifference. "I gave her a concentrated dose. The mind can only take so much. Now go!" The man hesitates only a moment before running off, leaving Scarecrow with his remaining men.

"They say the Bat and his bird can fly," one thug whispers, his voice shaky.

"I heard they can disappear," another adds, scanning the shadows.

"Well, we'll find out, won't we?" Scarecrow's voice drips with mockery as they all turn their guns toward the rafters.

The room falls silent, the only sound the faint hum of the city outside. A sudden clatter echoes behind them, and the thugs whirl around, guns raised. But the darkness hides more than it reveals.

Before they can react, Batman drops from above like a phantom. He grabs the nearest thug, twisting the man's arm and forcing his gun to fire. The shot goes wild, hitting another thug in the foot, who collapses with a scream. Batman spins, delivering a swift punch that knocks the first man out cold.

Another thug lunges at Batman, but he's too slow. Batman sidesteps, slamming the thug into a wall. The man's gun discharges, bullets ricocheting wildly. Batman grapples the thug, then uses his grappling hook to haul the man up into the shadows, disappearing from view.

Panic sets in as the remaining thugs frantically search for their invisible foe. A whisper of movement, a blur of black—Batman reappears behind another man, seizing him by the shoulder and spinning him around. A swift knee to the face, and the thug crumples to the ground.

Scarecrow watches in horror from behind a staircase, his bravado melting away. His men fall one by one, the Bat seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

As Batman finishes off the last thug with a brutal roundhouse kick, Scarecrow makes his move, rushing from his hiding spot. He grabs Batman's arm, trying to force his fear toxin into the Dark Knight's face. But Batman is faster. He twists, driving an elbow into Scarecrow's side, dropping him to the floor with a pained grunt.