Gotham. Night. Fading stars peep through the smog.

“On any ordinary summer night, the Tombs Gotham Waterworks would be silent as the broken stones of their namesake, save for the gurgle of water passing through to the City of Fog.”

A hallway of large pipes. Sharp shadows hide the nooks and crannies. The hint of a cape—or wing?—around the corner, through the mess.

“But not tonight, for the Scarecrow is on the loose and the Caped Crusader hunts the darkness!”

Scarecrow [slowly]: “What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow / out of this stony rubbish? Son of man, / you cannot say.”

Flash to Batman, eyes asquint, watching an empty corridor intently for come what may.

Scarecrow [chanting]: “There is shadow under this red rock, / come in under the shadow of this red rock…”

Batman lunges, swinging on a batarang, crossing from catwalk to catwalk, hiding under a dock.

Scarecrow [loudly]: “I will show you something different from either / your shadow at morning striding behind you, / or your shadow at evening rising to meet you…”

Batman freezes, silhouetted against a cathedral-like circular window by a floodlight. That light was new.

Scarecrow [softly]: “I will show you… fear in a handful of dust.”

Scarecrow blows downwards, gently. The powder mixes incarnadine in the multitudinous pipes, making the green one red, swirls, drains, spirals, and is gone, leaving a stain like rust.

Batman: “Scarecrow!”

Closeup. The mask of the Scarecrow, stuffed with straw—a hollow man draped over a nest of open pipes and knobs, his costume. Back to Scarecrow. He looks like your favorite uncle or college professor, in another life, perhaps. He has lifted up his palms to his face as if he were praying, were it not for the indelible traces of red on one.

Batman [angry]: “What have you done‽”

From out of nowhere the Masked Avenger plummets downward, roundhouse punching the Scarecrow, sending him flying.

Scarecrow [triumphant]: “You’re too late. This is the center of the water network, the fear sensitizer is already spreading through the city. The Shadow falls on the twilight kingdom. Gotham is done!”

Closeup. He is too late, and angry. Batman scowls and shakes his head.

“But Batman knows the Scarecrow is right. The nerve agent would spread in minutes, especially with the heat wave!”

The vigilante’s cowl suddenly lifts.

“An insight strikes Batman! The Scarecrow was a consummately careful researcher before he went bad…”

Batman kneels, rummaging through the bags, searching… searching… finding!

“Would he have created a water-borne fear toxin—without a fear anti-toxin?”

The Scarecrow, now trussed up by Robin who is keeping a watchful eye on him, staggers up, receiving a gut punch for his trouble.

Scarecrow: “Wait—wait, no—ugh!”

Ignoring his self-serving cries, Batman empties two bags of blue powder into the same pipe.

“One to negate the fear toxin, and one for good measure.”

Batman: “Pray this reduces the damage, Scarecrow.”

Scarecrow: “You fool. You have no idea what you’ve done.”

Batman: “I’ve saved the city.”

This is the way the world ends

Scarecrow: “No. You’ve destroyed it.”