Scarecrow realized he had made a mistake.
He had intended to unite with the Joker, to bring this powerful comrade into the fold, but he had forgotten that the other man was a madman.
And "madmen" didn't care about plans.
Of course, he, Scarecrow, was a madman too. Damn it.
That was why he was now lying on the floor with a bruised and swollen face. Fear toxin had no effect on the Joker, but the Joker hadn't killed him. He had merely beaten him until he was sprawled here in disgrace, like a Shiba Inu on the verge of death.
"Wow. Looks like I didn't come at a very good time."
Someone pushed open the door and entered.
The first thing Scarecrow saw was a pair of feet.
Brown leather boots and a gray-white trench coat. But when Scarecrow raised his head, he found that the newcomer was his old friend, Edward Nygma.
The Riddler.
Strangely, Nygma wasn't wearing his signature green coat covered in question marks, his question-mark cane, or his trademark eye mask and green hat.
He was dressed in ordinary clothes, like a junior office worker who had just gotten off work.
"Wow, what's going on here? I heard the Joker was with you. What a hassle. This is rather beyond my expectations."
Scarecrow watched the Riddler crouch down before saying:
"Would you mind telling me where the Joker went? Honestly—halfway through the plan, if the lead actor just runs off, the show can't go on."
Scarecrow struggled to prop himself up.
He saw the figures following behind the Riddler: Movie Freak, Amygdala, and, yes, Ventriloquist and Killer Croc as well.
They were all prisoners who had escaped from Arkham Asylum.
When had the Riddler recruited them?
But what drew Scarecrow's attention the most was the