The patrol car rolled slowly through the East End. Rain had stopped an hour ago, but the streets were still slick, reflecting the grey sky. Marco drove with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the window frame.
Darnell was pressed against the passenger window.
"Hey, check it out." He pointed at a flower shop on the corner. "Think we should grab a couple of those potted plants for Edward? Spruce up the forensics lab?"
"Forget it," Marco said without looking. "I'm afraid he will figure out how to make them talk, then spend all day arguing with a ficus about murder weapon trajectories."
Darnell snorted. "Fair point. Guy's weird enough without... wait, what the hell is that?"
Marco followed his gaze and frowned.
Up ahead, a small crowd had gathered on the sidewalk. Four or five people in white robes stood next to a stack of cardboard boxes, handing out flyers to anyone who would take them.
The one in front held a hand-painted sign with uneven lettering:
"YOU ARE NOT LOST - ONLY NOT YET HOME"
"BLOOD BINDS US TOGETHER. A NEW BEGINNING, FREE FROM THE SINS OF THE PAST."
"Another cult?" Darnell groaned. "How many of these things are there in this city? Feels like a new one pops up every week."
"At least seven or eight hundred in the country at this point," Marco said, pulling the car over to the curb. "Gotham probably has a dozen active at any given time."
He opened the door and stepped out. The crowd instinctively parted as he approached. The white-robed figures froze mid-pitch when they spotted him.
He stopped a few meters away, hands in his pockets, studying them.
"Gentlemen," he said. "You can preach all you want. First Amendment and all that. But do not cause trouble in this district."
The leader, a thin man in his forties with hollow eyes and a receding hairline, stepped forward with a stack of flyers.
"We are not causing trouble, Officer. We are bringing good news to those who suffer."
"Good news." Marco's gaze drifted to another sign propped against the boxes. In smaller print, it read:
JOIN THE BROTHERHOOD AND RECEIVE ONE FREE LOAF OF BREAD.
He almost laughed. "Free stuff for converts? That is the oldest scam in the book."
The cult leader's smile tightened. "We are offering sustenance to the needy. There is no scam."
"Sure." Marco stepped closer, lowering his voice so only the cultists could hear. "Here is how this works. You can hand out all the bread you want. You can talk about brotherhood and whatever mystical bullshit gets you through the day. But the second I hear about you harassing residents, holding illegal gatherings, or pulling some kind of 'donate all your worldly possessions to the cause' routine, I will invite you to the precinct for coffee. And we will have a very long conversation about what 'brotherhood' really means. Like spending a very long time in Blackgate Prison."
The leader opened his mouth to respond, then thought better of it. Under Marco's flat stare, he just nodded slowly.
"Understood, Officer."
"Good. Keep it that way."
Marco turned and walked back to the patrol car. Darnell was leaning out the window.
"You really think they will listen?"
"No." Marco climbed back in and slammed the door. "But now when they do not, I can say I warned them."
Darnell shook his head as Marco started the engine. "Fucking cults. They're like weeds. You pull one out, and ten more grow back."
"That is Gotham," Marco said, pulling back into traffic. "There is always someone looking for answers. Or looking for an excuse to do bad things and call it holy."
He had just merged into the flow of traffic when his phone rang. The caller ID showed Gordon's name. He answered, putting it on speaker.
"Yeah. What's up?"
Gordon's voice came through tense and frayed around the edges.
"Marco, where are you right now?"
"East End patrol. Why? What happened?"
"Do you remember the Dr. Morris case?"
Marco frowned. "Yeah, what about it?"
"While running down his associates, we found out he recently signed off on expelling a doctoral candidate from the psychology department. Jonathan Crane was apparently doing some controversial research on fear responses. We sent two officers to question him this morning. And one of them is in a hospital bed right now, twitching and babbling nonsense. The other one nearly strangled his partner to death in the elevator on the way out. Both of them are reporting hallucinations. Whatever Crane did to them, it broke something in their heads. He used some kind of aerosolized toxin. According to the hospital, it causes severe psychological distress. We are calling it a fear toxin for lack of a better term. And we do not know how much of it he has left, or what he is planning to do with it."
"So you need backup." Marco was already calculating routes in his head, mapping the fastest way out of the East End. "Where is he?"
"We think he is holed up in his family's old estate, the Crane House. It has been abandoned for years, but the basement matches the layout of his university lab. If he is cooking up more of that toxin, that is where he will be."
"What do you need from me?"
"Military-grade gas masks. Standard GCPD respirators are not going to cut it against whatever he is using. I know you keep a few sets in your vehicle..."
Marco glanced at Darnell, who was already unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing into the back. "How many do you need?"
"As many as you have got."
Darnell popped open the storage compartment beneath the mobile kitchen unit, and dragged out a small metal case. He flipped the latches. Inside were four military-grade gas masks with fresh filter canisters, neatly packed in foam.
"I have got four," Marco said. "That is it."
"Four is better than nothing. How fast can you get here?"
"Give me the address."
Gordon quickly rattled off an address on the outskirts of Gotham, near the Narrows.
"We are setting up a command post at the main gate. Move fast, Marco. This guy is dangerous, and I do not want to give him time to prepare."
"On our way."
Marco hung up and flipped on the sirens. The patrol car surged forward, engine roaring as he forced it through a gap in traffic. Horns blared behind them. Darnell braced himself against the dashboard.
"Crane House?" Darnell shouted over the wail of the siren. "That place has been haunted for like twenty years!"
"It is not haunted," Marco said, yanking the wheel hard to avoid a delivery truck. "It is just old, creepy, and full of rats."
"And now it is full of a psycho with fear gas." Darnell pulled one of the masks out of the case and inspected it.
Marco did not respond. His mind was already running through the information.
Jonathan Crane.
Psychology researcher.
Expelled from Gotham University.
Now hiding in an abandoned family estate with a hallucinogen.
This guy is Scarecrow, he thought.
For a brief moment, he considered it. One clean shot would solve the problem and earn him three easy skill points.
Then he dismissed it. Gordon was already involved. This was going to be a by-the-book operation, whether he liked it or not. And besides, killing a suspect in cold blood, even a dangerous one, was not something he could justify.
The city blurred past the windows as they sped toward the outskirts. Eventually, the urban sprawl gave way to scrubland and patches of dying forest.
Crane House appeared on the horizon like a rotten tooth.
The estate stood at the end of a long gravel driveway, cut off from the world by overgrown hedges and skeletal trees. The main house was a decaying Gothic Revival structure of crumbling stone and boarded windows. Its roof sagged under the weight of time, and the chimneys leaned at uneasy angles, as if they might collapse at any moment. At the entrance, a wrought-iron gate hung crooked on its hinges.
Several GCPD patrol cars were parked in a loose perimeter around the gate. Officers in tactical vests stood in clusters, checking weapons and reviewing a map spread across the hood of one of the cars. Gordon was at the center of it all.
Marco killed the siren and pulled up next to Gordon's car. He and Darnell grabbed the case of gas masks and climbed out.
"Gordon!"
Gordon looked up. "I was starting to think you got lost."
"Traffic." Marco set the case on the hood and popped it open. "Four masks, like I said. Who is going in?"
Gordon stared at the masks for a long moment, then glanced at the officers around him.
"Four is not enough for a full team."
"It is enough for two people," Marco said, pulling out one of the masks and handing it to Gordon. He slung another around his own neck. "You and one of your guys. Darnell and I will hold the perimeter."
Gordon shook his head. "No. I will take someone in. You two stay out here and coordinate with the rest of the team."
Marco raised an eyebrow. "You? Who exactly are you planning to rely on?"
He glanced at the officers standing around them. None of them looked ready to walk into a building filled with fear gas.
"I can handle it," Gordon said stiffly.
"No offense, but I cannot command your people. They do not know me, and I do not know them." Marco pulled the second mask off his neck and held it up. "Darnell and I will go in. You take your guys and set up a perimeter. Make sure Crane does not slip out the back while we are clearing the inside."
Gordon looked like he wanted to argue, but the logic was sound. After a moment, he let out a frustrated breath.
"Fine."
"Then we will handle it." Marco handed the remaining two masks to Darnell. "We have done this before."
Gordon did not look convinced, but he nodded. "All right. The main entrance is through the front. According to the blueprints, there is a basement access through the kitchen. That is where we think he is set up."
"Got it." Marco checked his sidearm, then looked at Darnell. "Ready?"
Darnell pulled on his gas mask and adjusting the straps. "Let us go fuck up a mad scientist."
Marco pulled on his gas mask, checked the seal, and started walking toward the manor.