Gotham felt stifling that night, a pitch-black sky pressing down on its densely packed buildings without a trace of moonlight. Neon barely tore through the darkness, casting strange, shifting colors across the puddles in the road.
The streetlights glowed feebly over the empty streets. A few hurried pedestrians occasionally passed, pulling their clothes tight and walking briskly, not daring to cast a single unnecessary glance.
Sirens circled in the distance. The wind carried a faint, cold chemical odor, mingling with the rank smell of the streets. The clouds grew thicker, the wind blew harder, and the whole city was eerily quiet.
Blue-gray toxic fumes had already begun rising from the chimneys of the Ace Chemical Plant. Scarecrow, Jonathan Crane, stood in the central control room, looking down from above with a cold gaze, like a lofty god.
His men were loading crates of toxin canisters onto refrigerated trucks, which headed separately toward Gotham's Diamond District, Old Town, and Burnley District-he had originally intended to target the City Hall District, but unfortunately, Penguin had brought Two-Face, Harvey Dent, into the operation this time.
The man, once Gotham's most celebrated young prosecutor, had flipped a coin and then strictly forbidden Scarecrow from causing trouble on his turf.
Fine. It made no difference. Those toxin canisters were only appetizers anyway. Tonight, he would plunge all of Gotham into fear.
The phone rang. Scarecrow answered, and Penguin's voice came through the receiver. "Are you ready, Dr. Krayne, my dear friend?"
"Of course." Scarecrow grinned, looking at the crows wheeling through the air. "Thank you for so generously providing the resources, Oswald. They'll allow my toxin to reach every street."
"This is a fair trade. As agreed, control of the Ace Chemical Plant is yours, and I'll cover all the raw materials needed to mass-produce