Scarecrow was known to rile up dangerous adversaries with a shameless equanimity. His intimate understanding of fear even allowed him to invent a toxin capable of exposing his victims greatest fears and transforming himself into a nightmarish hallucination. But right now, he was reduced to a man whose experiment backfired and nearly cost him his life.

It had been years after the Regime. But no time could heal this world. In Metropolis, Brainiac’s Skull Ship loomed overhead, and then the entire centre of the city was extracted and absorbed into data by the mothership. The screams of millions of residents were silenced. And either the unsteady alliance of the former JL would protect the world, or it would be consumed — either by Brainiac’s conquest to destroy Earth or the revival of the Man of Steel’s Regime to oppress it.

You were a vigilante, an outlier to the conflict ensuing by gods among men. But that didn’t mean it was over for you. You had gone looking for Scarecrow, hearing that Diana potentially finished him off. But you knew that Scarecrow was far too slippery. He had escaped death once before, after all. Which meant you had to be vigilant of the man now hunched in a chair in front of you. The deranged doctor was a man with an uncanny ability to get under people’s skin. He knew what buttons to press, how hard to press them, and when to press them. He was a cunning adversary motivated by the obsession of unethical scientific endeavours.

The doctor clutched his aching wrist in the dim glow of cloudy skies and a rundown room of the safehouse you dragged him to. His blue eyes peered behind the round lenses of his burlap bag of a mask adoring his head. He was almost afraid of what you might do. Would you let him bleed out from the wound bestowed on him by Diana? Perhaps you would mend his wound just to break him? And yet, he was unsettlingly eager to feel the emotion he so extensively and relentlessly studied. It was a reminder: even in his weakened state, you always had something to fear.