Must Love Hyenas

29: Master of Terror

Harley put her arm around the Joker's shoulders as he helped her out of the van.

"Considering the traps Scarecrow left behind in other locations, don't you think he'll use the fear gas here as well?" Harley asked.

"Undoubtedly," Joker confirmed. "Those clown masks aren't simply stylish, they're also functional with breath filters built-in. They neutralize both fear and laughing gas. Can't have the boys laughing themselves silly when there's work to be done."

The front doors were thrown open, instantly triggering a cloud of brown fog as fear toxins were released from wall mounted canisters. The Joker gang ignored it and swept into the building unhindered. Joker put on a gas mask and offered one to Harley; she put it on before the two of them followed the gang into the mental facility to hunt a madman.

Resistance was surprising light, and Harley wondered about the reasons until she realized the number of guards Scarecrow had left at the various ambush points of the chemical production facilities had most likely thinned his available forces considerably. It was unlikely he had many left, forcing Scarecrow to trust in the debilitating nature of his fear gas for a final defense.

The goons looked to Harley and Joker for directions as the two of them had been here before. Harley pointed down the left hand corridor leading to the office Johnathan Crane had used during the time she'd been working there.

One of Joker's men swept the hall up ahead with a thermographic scanner, checking for heat sources. Switching off the hand held unit, he hurried back to the Joker and Harley to report.

"Only one heat signature registering," the man told them, his voice slightly muffled by the mask over his face. "It's in the back office."

"I'll handle this," Harley volunteered.

"Are you sure, Harley?" Joker questioned. "You're still on the mend. You didn't have to come on this raid. The boys and I can finished Scarecrow."

"You're sweet, Puddin'," Harley said, patting the side of his face. "He tried to kill me with his fear gas. He tried to take the city from us. It's time I tell Crane how disappointed I am in him."

Joker waved to the men. The goons stepped aside and let Harley go the remainder of the distance alone. When one of the thugs looked questioningly at Joker, the clown answered the unspoken question.

"She'll be fine," Joker assured them. "Harley knows what she's doing."

Forcing through the pain it required, Harley kicked open the office door at the end of the hallway. The person occupying the office looked up from his desk at the sudden intrusion. Covered in a long black coat, a noose hung around his throat like a grotesque necktie, and a wide brimmed hat concealed most of the burlap covered face. Eyes glittered like dark jewels in the shadow of his facemask and hat.  Scarecrow placed his boney hands upon the top of his desk and rose slowly from his seat, his narrow sleeves accenting his spindly nature to make him seem a skeletal spider.

No explosions of fear gas had erupted around her as they'd done when she'd been trapped in Scarecrow's rigged factory, so she removed her gas mask and waved at Scarecrow.

"Hey there," Harley said as if meeting an old friend and not a rival for control of the city.

"Harleen Quinzel," Scarecrow hissed, his raspy words sounding like a dusty wind passing through a pile of dry bones.

"So that is you, Dr. Crane, and you remember me," Harley said, clasping her hands together. "I'm touched."

"You stole my fear neutralizing gas," Scarecrow accused in a deathly whisper. "You shouldn't have done that."

He took a step toward her. A gleaming syringe was clutched in the gaunt fingers of his right hand, a viscous fluid of dull orange contained inside.

"You're really ungrateful," Harley pouted, hands on her hips. "I tested it out for you. Besides, it really needed work. Your gas targets only the fear center of the brain. The new and improved version targets many parts of the brain in order to make it hypersensitive to humor."

"You don't have the skills to alter my creation," Scarecrow declared, his voice low and his words evenly paced like the fluid movements of an approaching viper. He took another step toward her.

"I have a gun," Harley countered. "When I put it to the head of a chemist, you would be surprised what I can get done. Did you know he also made the gas into a concentrated liquid form? We used it inside these."

Harley reached into the small pouch Wilkins had given her, pulling out a handful of six-pointed metal jacks before tossing them into the air. She ducked out of the room, putting her back up against the outside wall an instant before the jacks landed on the floor, exploding on impact. Each of the points flew off in a different direction similar to diminutive missiles. Scarecrow tried to dodge, but too many projectiles existed for him to be successful.

One of the flying points of metal struck Scarecrow in the arm, and the tiny needle inside delivered a dose of liquefied Joker gas. The criminal pulled the dart from his arm as a snicker escaped his lips.

Harley walked back into the room and smiled at Scarecrow as he keeled over backwards while giggling uncontrollably.

"I do appreciate all the work you did to create the gas, Doctor Crane," Harley said loudly over the increasing intensity of Scarecrows' laughter. "Don't worry. Mr. J and I will put it to good use."

Harley left the room. Closing the door only partially muffled the hysterical fit that was consuming the self-proclaimed Master of Terror.