I must needs laugh in myself

[crossedstaves]

The Scarecrow wasn't in Robinson Park that night. He hadn't filled several containers with gasoline from different gas stations and carried them through the gates into the darkness. Nor did he leave two would-be muggers knocked out — merely knocked out, not twitching in a pile of their own appalling neuroses — behind him. He certainly did not

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[agreenhell]

Pamela may not be able to talk to the plants, to hear their pained screams as the cruel flames lick at them, devouring blade after innocent blade of delicate green grass and irreparably scorching through the bark of magnificent tall trees, but she can smell the smoke, the unmistakable mix of gasoline and wood burning on the breeze. And as she rushes from her nearby home (because really, where else would she choose to live? She sleeps in the greenhouse more often than not) she can hear the flames crackling through vegetation and feel their heat. She pauses to bite back a scream and fetch a bucket of water, knowing it will do precious little to fight the fire - but she has to try.

And after the water is gone, she tries stomping the fire out by herself, but it's spread too far. There's nothing she can do but wait for the fire service to notice and turn their harsh hoses on the park, and so she is left full of impotent rage.

Well, perhaps not that impotent. Poison Ivy realises that someone must have seen who did this, and she will

[crossedstaves]

The poked man's eyes flutter momentarily, but he doesn't rouse. There's no smell of alcohol about them, and no bottles, nor any signs of drug use. Their position on the ground suggests they were rolled off the path. Otherwise, they look... untouched. Possibly even restfully angelic! And awfully difficult to wake.

Eventually, Sleeping Beauty may be persuaded to arise — figuratively, anyway, he doesn't get off of the ground. Confused and lethargic, he asks thickly through a dry mouth, "What... what happened?"

[agreenhell]

Ivy kneels down beside him and adopts a sweet, worried tone of voice. "Gosh, I'm so glad you're alright. I was going to ask the same thing - what do you remember? Are... are you drunk?"

Even as she asks, she runs through the evidence in her mind - no signs of alcohol or drugs, and yet this is not the behaviour of someone waking from a normal sleep, not quite. And he was awfully difficult to wake. Her scientific curiousity is piqued as she considers the list of chemicals one could use to knock people out like this.

[crossedstaves]

It's difficult to say what might be running through his mind at this point. Not long ago, a skinny dude offered him his wallet and a weird mist shot out from his sleeve. Everything went black. Then, hello, nurse.

"Nnnno," he decides. "Feel... feel weird, though. Wasn't drinking. Was just... walking..." Yeah. At 4AM. "Ran into some guy..."

[knight_so_dark]

The first thing Batman does is check to make sure the Joker is still in Arkham.

The cops will be at the scene of the blast before he will, so it's important to keep to the shadows, observe unseen, and look for clues on his own. Traces of gasoline and other chemical residue on the burnt grass are certainly of interest, as is anyone in the park who isn't carrying a badge.

[crossedstaves]

The police aren't the only ones there before the Batman: in the hubbub of extinguishing the fire and examining the primary scene, two bodies rolled behind some bushes have been overlooked. Both are male, dressed in nondescript jogging clothing. One is freshly deceased, without any obvious injuries, and the other is unconscious, one sleeve rolled up where someone's taken a sample of his blood. The grass shows some light indentation where someone knelt by the deceased man. There aren't any bottles or drug paraphernalia in the surrounding area, nor the scent of alcohol.

The unconscious man stirs and groans quietly, one hand coming up to grope clumsily at his face.

[knight_so_dark]

It's getting to be a theme in Gotham, horrendous fire-induced facial scarring. Well, son, better men than you have had worse.

"What happened?"

[crossedstaves]

Really, he's lightly singed at best. There's a different reason for touching his face, which he doesn't have the presence of mind to lie about like the first man had to Ivy.

"Told him, gimme your wallet... he said, okay, don't hurt me..." The man recalls groggily. "Held it out, then — something, sprayed me, in the face. What... what time is it?"

Even part-time muggers have obligations, you know.