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The Mad Hatter's Tea Party

October 8th, 2001

Participants: Nightwing, Batgirl, Batman, Mad Hatter, Bane, Scarecrow, Sandra and Sophie

Scene: Acting on information they gathered about the whereabouts of the recently escaped Jervis Tetch, otherwise known as the Mad Hatter, Nightwing and Batgirl meet up at the abandoned amusement park known once as Happy Land, unaware that the evening will prove quite a bit more dangerous then they could ever imagine...

Entrance -- Happy Land - Amusement Mile [Ha-ha Hacienda]

Within the opening foyer of Happy Land, nothing but decay and age seems to exist here. Abandoned years ago, but not torn down for whatever reasons the city may have. The entire building seems like one great death trap. Rusted roller coaster pylons threaten to weaken and collapse at any given moment. Regardless of this, it would appear that someone frequents the grounds, and by the chunks of metal and patches of rust on the ground, the rides are activated every now and then for reasons that can't be deciphered at first glance. To the north one can see the concessionaires and carnival games, laying dormant, still holding prizes or old rotted food in some cases, easterly lays the path towards the larger rides, a roller coaster, tilt-a-whirl, crazy dance, and all sorts of rides that move fast and whip its riders around. To the west, more tame rides are kept, a Ferris wheel, merry go round, bumper cars and the like. A feeling of foreboding washes over just about anyone and everyone that comes here, as if something were lurking in the dark.
People and Things:
Bane
Sandra
Batgirl
Scarecrow
Joker
Sophie
Mad Hatter
Other exits: [N] Walkway to Games and Concession [EG] Entry Gates to Amusement Mile

Madness! Sheer, and utter madness! The carnival is gloomy tonight. Very, very gloomy indeed. The cold night air howls through the abandoned park, causing rusty gates and other spooky miscellaneous things to occur. All of which are irrelevant. Just know that things are dreadfully frightening, in a dreadfully creepy way. The only shed of light - and when we use the word 'light' we mean insanity - is the table sitting in the middle of the open entrance way. It is decorated with a light and dark purple, checkered tablecloth, and a wide assortment of tea cups, tea kettles and tea pots line it. There are also many chairs, which three are currently being used. Sophie and Sandra, looking much like Alices from Alice in Wonderland, sit like unemotional robots while a funny looking little man sits in a high-packed chair at one of the table's end. He sips tea madly, and sees to be having a delightful conversation with his drones.

Sophie just sits there, looking rather plain, indeed. Well, plain except for that dress she's wearing. The cuteness of this kid is only amplified by her face being washed and her street clothes being exchanged by a dress. Don't know about that wig, though. Doesn't go with her complexion. She can't complain, of course, being under the influence of a certain mind chip.

Dispite the opinions of those who know her, a mind-controlled Sandra is definately unlike the regular Sandra. For one, she's much more lifeless, rather dull and far quieter. She doesn't talk at all unless told to, and for that matter doesn't do a dang thing unless she's told to. She doesn't suffer from internet withdrawl, she doesn't worry about the poor puppies at home in the apartment, who are probably enjoying the chance to sleep on the bed and do terrribable things to the carpet and chew on Sandra's shoes...At least they wont be hungry, with a monsterous bag of puppychow in the kitchen that they could easily chew into when they got hungry. This is one of the things that would be on her mind, if her mind were hers to be on. Were she in her right mind, she would also not be caught dead in a dress, much less an Alice one. As it is, she sits in her chair at the tea party and stares off into nothing as the Mad Hatter cheerfully chatters away.

The steady sound of 'crunch, scrape' add one more sign of life to the normally desolate amusement park as the Scarecrow makes his way towards Hatter and his tea party. He pulls himself up to the gates, favoring his right foot considerably and putting a lot of his weight on his scythe. A pair of sickles hang from the rope around his waist, clinking absently as he walks. He tightens his grip on the scythe pole as he nears the Mad Hatter and his tea party, making a vain attempt to stand up straight and appear uninjured. He also does his best to radiate as much pure hatred as one can with a burlap sack over one's head. Upon noticing and recognizing the 'Alice's, however, he seems almost aghast, taking up the lower portion of the scythe with his other hand. "..let them go, Tetch. Now."

There had been word on the street that the Mad Hatter had been spotted since his escape from Arkham on the north island though to this point no sign had been spotted by the almond shaped eyes hidden behind the cowl that covers Batgirl's face. A grappel line carries the lithe figure of the girl towards the carnival grounds which reside on the tip of Amusement Mile, her black cape floating on the cold night air behind her as she heads towards a rendevous with Nightwing. Nothing has been spotted during her flight or as her feet touch soundlessly on the ground, but as she retracts her grapple the sound of voices nearby can be heard though not what is said.

The night air is cold and quiet, devoid of most of the sounds common to the nearby city. In the distance, the rusting hulks of the abandoned amusement park rides and roller coasters look almost eerie -- if not downright menacing. The twisted metal struts look like something out of a nightmare, dull and black -- barely more then a shadowy outline. Definately no longer somewhere to bring the family, especially on a cloud covered night. Huddled in the shadows close to the abandoned grounds, Nightwing waits in silence -- masked eyes peering towards the faintest glimpse of light coming from the entrance to the twisted, nightmarish park. The wait is short hover and a flickering movement off to the side catches his attention and he tugs his gaze away from his chosen vigil, padding over quietly towards the recently arrived heroine -- holding up a warning hand as he approaches. Not a word passes his lips until reaching his side, and even then it is the barest of whispers. "Good, you made it. Seems that you heard right. Something's definately happening," he murmurs, attention turning back towards the meancing entraceway in the near distance.

From behind the throne step the two mooks that so eloquently graced the Air waves earlier this eve. They look like the twin love children of Luco Brazzi and that scary woman from 'Throw Momma from the Train' and 'Goonies.' Dressed in the ostentatious garb and stupid looking beanies on ther heads. The Thompson Submachine guns they hold just add to that whole 'abmiance.' As the each take position on either side of their 'boss' the frightening becomes apparant. These two schelps he may well not even /need/ to exert his mind control to keep them on the short leash. Both men hold their guns at the ready. They don't look like they would be particularly good shots. They don't seem much like they would care either.

You see, my friends, this is all a pleasant little show, of sorts. Though, if one was to gaze upon the Mad Hatter, they would simply disregard the festivities as a mad tea party - which, of course, it is. Just not your average mad tea party. And, believe me, the differences between a mad tea party, and a not-your-average mad tea party are quite vast. Why, it's about as vast as a Hillaypah and a Zillyzoo. "hOw DoTH tHe liTTle cROcodiLe iMProVE HIs sHiNing tAil," he says to his 'Alices' quite wisely, with all the intent of the world in his voice, "aND poUR THe wATers oF thE nILe, oN eVEry GOldEn scAlE." Doesn't that make sense? We certainly think it does, and that's all that matters. What? A voice? Hooray! "ScAReCrow," the little man cheers happily, throwing his cup of tea over his shoulder, and using his free hands to clap wildly. See, insane people tend to do insane things. Like giggle at something so terrifying as Jonathan Crane and his bladed weapons, "juSt iN tIMe fOR tEa!" The happy little man looks over to his 'Alices' and says politely, "GiRLs, bE dEars, aNd gET tHe SCareCRow soMe TeA."

Sophie pushes her chair out and hops to the floor, taking up a nearby cup of freshly poured tea. With it she walks slowly and without emotion to the lanky Scarecrow, stopping at just enough distance for him to take it. Mmm, Hatter Tea. You know you want some. Ignore that mist that rises from it in the shape of skull and crossbones.

Her host is quite insane, there is little doubt of that. No Worse than anyone she's met since coming to Gotham City. Sandra has been victim of villain and vigilante alike since she moved here only a month ago, but this is the first time she's been controlled.. She settles the teapot back into the center of the table with a stupid little curtsey toward the Scarecrow while Sophie takes the serving responsibility part of things.

Scarecrow takes a step forward, but stops as Tweedle Dee and Dum make their entrance as well. Despite the formentioned intense hatred for their boss, he really has no desire to get blown full of holes this evening. Two is enough, thank you. "They don't have anything to do with me, Tetch," he hisses, grip tightening further on his scythe. His pained expression as little Sophie offers him a cup of tea and that wince as Sandra curtsies beg to differ, however. The tea is not taken. He seems terribly unsure of what to do, however, besides the not-taking-the-tea business, gaze shifting from Sophie to Sandra to the Hatter. He keeps his attention on his nemesis for now, turning his knuckles beneath his gloves white from gripping his weapon. "What do you want?"

The sharp ears of the cowl dip slightly as the girl's head nods in acknowledgement of her companion's words though no words are spoken in return. Its not just the additional sounds that carry on the night air which are clearer now as the world about that seems to have quieted down but Batgirl's natural state of quiet. They'd come to get Mad Hatter and the words she hears definately seem to belong to Arkham's latest escapee from what she was told about him anyways, but as the wind picks up slightly and begins to play with the edge of her cape she realizes one name has been said not once but twice, "Scarecrow too?" The other villain's possible presence here obviously a surprise to the cowled figure as she breaks her silence in a confused question to her companion. Scarecrow's own voice heard after her own question though not so easy to identify by pattern alone.

Well, well, well. This is somewhat troubling isn't it? Certainly the evening no longer seems quite as cut and dry as it did just moments before. Tilting his head slightly to the side, Nightwing listens intently before he nods his own assent to her suggestion. "It sounds like it. I wonder what brings those two together tonight? Whatever it is, it can't be good," he says in agreement, the slightest of frowns creasing his expression as he peers off into the shadows that lay thick over the ground, broken only by the demented little party near the entrance of the park. "There's not a lot of cover between here and there so I think sneaking up on them is pretty much out. Unless we want to take the long way around. I think we're going to have to hope that they're too busy with each other to notice us until it's too late," he muses thoughtfully, his gaze sweeping quickly across the approach to the park -- and finding it annoyingly devoid of anything that might mask their approach. Oh well, the cover of night will just have to serve.

And still Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum stand a silent vigil by their 'boss.' Probably as much because they cannot think of anything to really add to the.. witty repartee. One of the Tweedles levels his Thompson in the general direction of the Scarecrow and he summons the gumption to speak. "I think yous should drink the tea. You are in..insulting Mr. Hatter's hosipital." Well he means hospitality no doubt, but he got out a complete senteance. Why don't we just take the small victories on at a time. Meanwhile the other Tweedle looks to his contemporary and then to Dr. Crane with a look that smacks of 'Yeah.. what he said!'

The Mad Prince, with his dopey knights holding machine guns next to his throne, watches his 'Alices' do his bidding with a bright, cheerful smile on his face. He would pat them on their heads if he could, but he can't, so he won't. The funny looking man is clad in his usual dark green, prim overcoat with a matching top hat. His pants are checkered with light and dark green squares, and his bow tie collaborates perfectly. "I wAnt YOu to COme hAVe a SEat," he grins insanely, and nods to the chair on the far-end of the table, "ANd eNjOY a cUp oF tEa WIth uS." Quickly, Tetch leans forward dangerously, almost as if he is about to fall flat on his face, and into the tricky tabletop. But, the palms of his open hands catches his chin at the last moment, and he gives Crane a toothy smile. "THeRe's pLEeeeEenty oF ROoOooOom," he giggles madly. But, damnit all, there's no room for Birdboy and his lithe pet. Unfortunately, Tetch is unaware of them right now ... but, he is aware of one thing! "/SHUT UP/," he yells angrily and loudly back to Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, but he soon regains his calm, silly, stupid look, which has been focused solely on Crane, "sTaND thEre aNd DOn'T sAy anYThiNG."
... "YOu dOLts."

Unable to do anything but what she's told, Sandra doesn't move, just continues to be there with her big stupid girly smile in a girly dress and dressed like Alice, in a setting that will probably push her much closer to some sort of breakdown...as if the fear thing weren't enough, and the costumed pansies showing up all hours of the night in her apartment. Poor kid. Life for civilians really is tough in Gotham City. Not that she could do anything about anything, of course...she's imagining this is all just a really bad, really silly dream.

Scarecrow twitches. Must.. resist.. urge.. to kill.. He releases his grip on the lower part of his scythe, using it as a walking stick again. He doesn't walk, however. Just leans on it, picking his right foot off the ground briefly. "I don't have time for this," he snaps. "..and I'm not drinking any of your damn tea." He turns his concentration to Sophie again, narrowing his eyes beneath the mask. Think, Crane, how did Tetch's mind-control-doohicky work when he used it on you?

Batgirl shrugs her shoulders slightly in response to Nightwing's question not knowing if it was rhetorical or not and as he points out the lack of cover between themselves and the sound of the voices the girl raises her right hand slightly pointing towards a lone street lamp not too far distant. Lowering her hand she reaches into her belt and pulls out a batarrang before motioning once more with hr right hand towards the lamp, "Make darker?" It may not make it much darker and the lamp going out could cause more attention then its meant to defray, but as Nightwing seems concerned she's trying to be helpful.

Hesitating for just an instant, Nightwing gives a slightly nod as he glances towards the solitary working lightpost on an otherwise rather barren, desolate strip of land. "Do it," he agrees with a hushed voice. With the Hatter and his goons facing the only approach, a few more shadows might be just the thing. "Hopefully they'll just right it off as the bulb bursting, but we can't count on it. As soon as you've blown the lamp, concentrate on getting those guns away from Hatter's thugs. They don't look bright enough to be decent shots, but there's no point in letting them endanger anyone with them," he murmurs back towards Batgirl even as he begins to edge forward through the shadows, preparing to rush towards the small gathering as soon as Batgirl has finished implimenting her idea.

Batman travels in through the Entrance Gates
Batman has arrived.

The two goons Luco Brazzi-esque thugs stand with Thompson's trained. They are quiet now after having been ordered to be so.. well order to be quiet again. In any even the two big and rather... challenged Henchmen stand dutifully awaiting the Hatter's order. As henchmen are wont to be, you can see their trigger fingers itch. You know that last guy they worked for there would've been gun fire by now... The comforting ratattat of their Thompson is no where to be heard yet and it's starting to make them edgy.

It appears there are two more guests that no one - except for Jervis Tetch, of course - knew were sitting at the table. One of the chairs is home to a little stuffed bunny-rabbit, and on the middle of the table is a dead mouse. A dead mouse that appears to have been beaten with a grape jellied butterknife, for the weapon of choice is laying right next to the victim. The Mad Hatter grins some more, then leans back into his incredibly large chair. As he does so, he picks up a random cup and saucer from the vibrant table, then contently pours the steaming, hot tea from the cup into the saucer, and drinks it arrogantly. "QUiTe GOoD tEa," he says with a sudden bounce and giggle, ignoring Crane's violent reaction, "bUT, ... YOur lOSs." Pausing for a moment, and peering at the Scarecrow insanely with one of his eyes, as if reading his thoughts, he glances over to Sophie and smiles brightly. "DEary," he says nicely to her, "gO sIT bAck dOWn aNd dRiNk YoUR tEa."

Sophie lowers the tea cup and turns away from the Scarecrow. So he doesn't want any tea? Fine. She marches back over to the table and seats herself daintily, though has a spot of trouble pulling her chair back to the table. Once that struggle's over with, she picks up the cup that was sitting before her and takes a sip of it. Pinky up, mind you. Don't want to be rude.

It is fortunate that Sandra doesn't know what generally happens to the Hatter's Alice's when he's through with them. Being drugged, shot, beaten, threatened and peepingtommed, she's not yet had the opportunity to experience being murdered. No time for that and going to school and working a parttime job, too, after all. So, she simply continues to be a good little Alice at the teaparty.

Scarecrow mutters something nasty about Tetch and the unfortunate mother than spawned him, limping, though reluctantly, to the other end of the table. o O (Well, Crane, if you live through this, this will be the best acting job of your career. It would be if you died, too, but where's the fun in that?) Swinging his scythe in a downward motion, he successfully sticks the blade in place, though at the cost of Hatter's lovely tea table. A hand goes to the sickles at his waist, hesitates, then falls back to his side as he looks at the two Alices again. It would defeat the purpose of saving them if they got caught in the crossfire. And he's gone to all this trouble already, it'd be such a pain if they died. A hand goes up to his head, instead, where he rubs his temple through the hood. -.-x "I am the butt of one massive cosmic joke," he comments absently before looking back to the Mad Hatter. "They're not really the right ages for Alice," he suggests, with a familiar 'God-why-won't-you-die?' edge in his voice. "..but let's dispense with the formalities. How about you tell me what you want so we can let these two sub-standard Alices go, hmm?" *twitch* o O (Maybe if I *will* it hard enough, he'll just keel over.)

In his usual fashion, The Dark Knight surveys the scene from on high, noting the positions of the players, to include -most- of those that believe themselves hidden. And indeed are quite well camouflaged from all but one who knows exactly what to look for. Batman takes no action just yet save to begin to move towards the scene as well, intending to complement Nightwing's charge, whether the younger man knows it or not. And no, he's not worried about surprising his protegees. He knows his people, they'll adapt without error. He trained them, after all. Of course...the tommy-gun goons will need to be dealt with quickly....and the impact batarangs he's silently withdrawing from his utility belt will go a long way towards that.

The girl pulls her hand back and then snaps it, releasing the batarang towards the street lamp where it hits the bulb causing a resulting 'tink' as the glass breaks and the batarang flies for a few more feet before landing on the ground a few feet from the lamp. As predicted the area does darken slightly though whether the sound has been heard over the talk taking place at the tea party will remain to be seen.

Continuing to creep towards the small gathering taking place beneath the abandon park's entranceway, Nightwing waits for the telltale tinkle of shattered glass to inform him that Batgirl's been successful. Fortunately, the masked man doesn't have long to wait. The faint sound is almost lost in the gentle evening breeze, but it is audible enough to inform the man who's slow steps lengthen into a more brisk, groundeating stride. Yep, now they're committed. With a twisting motion of his gauntleted fist, a razor sharp wingding slides out of it's concealment and into his palm. Without breaking stride, the young man tosses the oddly shaped projectile sidearm, flicking his wrist as he sends it on it's flight towards the closest of the tommy gun toting henchmen. Time to make them drop their toys before they hurt someone else... or by the looks of them, possibly themselves.

Lessee the one closest to Nightwing.. Oh hell we'll say it's Tweedle Dum.. it's hard to tell them apparat anyways. The sound of the wingding cutting air is like an alarm cutting into a hazy dream. He doesn't have time to react before the sound of it impacting on his wrist and the sound of gun clattering to the ground helplessly is heard. The other is, however twitchy. The gun is leveled ready to be fired into the darkness from wence the attack came. The metallic clack of the bolt being pulled back is heard as the Dee prepares to fire. Somewhere, someone rolls his eyes and thinks, 'Pendehoe... I told him to have it locked and loaded before he arrived....'

By the way, it really is good tea. There are so many kinds of teas these days, but certainly none as good as this. Tetch enjoys it quite a bit, even though it sometimes lacks a little punch. A punch like a freight train dipped in sweet, sweet, sweet hallucinogenics. Finishing off the last bit of tea from the porcelain saucer, he flings it behind his back and somewhere into the night air. Following shortly is the tea cup, which has no use if it's empty. What good is a tea cup without any tea? That's like using a potato without a feather, and no one uses a potato without a feather. "tHey aRe a BiT YOuNg," he observes Sophie and Sandra with a scholarly glaze to his voice, but that soon changes with the eruption of a fit of giggles as Crane buries his sickle into the table, "bUT tHEy seRVe thEiR PuRPose PErFEcTly." After all, Crane is here, isn't he? The Mad Hatter is fairly certain that he's here, and with a few heartbeats of staring at the Scarecrow, he nods confidently. Yes, he most certainly is here. "WHaT cAN YOu dO," Tetch ponders to himself wickedly, rubbing his hands together with a sinister grin on his face, and being utterly oblivious to the newly-darkened light, "YOu cAN sTAnd oN YOuR hEAd, PUt YOur FiNGer oN yoUR nOSe, aND chANt YiDDiSH soNGs bacKWards, foR sTArtErs ... wHAt thE ...?"

Sophie doesn't flinch or budge in the slightest at the sudden change in atmosphere. She's got tea! She's drinking it, too. Once her teacup is empty she simply pours herself another, having not been told to stop drinking tea. Mmm, tea... If she were in her right mind, she probably would've thrown the cup and ran by now. Poor child.

Poor Sandra, still of no mind. She doesn't react to the thrown dishes, nor to the clattering of a gun to the ground. She doesn't react to the silly antics of the Mad Hatter or to the insult against her Aliceness. She doesn't stop 'enjoying' the tea party. Poor innocent civilian.
Bwahah! The neck! That's right! He was always so amazed Tetch managed to get the thing up there. A stepstool, maybe? He doesn't quite remember. It's all one hateful little blur. At the sound of the wingdings, however, he snaps out of his brief mental victory and takes action! No, he doesn't try to make his escape, as he's oh so used to doing. He doesn't rush Tweedle Dum, either, as much as he'd like to break a few of that oaf's teeth and shove them down various orifices. Instead, he lunges for little Sophie, trying to get one arm around her neck and use the other to yank that accursed little mind-control device off.. if it's where he thinks it is, anyway. And if it's not superglued on. Ouch. "Oh, the sick, twisted irony of telling you you'd be the death of me.." he still manages to muse.

And then the batarangs are released, one towards the hand/wrist of Tweedle-Dee, and the other 'whipwhipwhipping' through the air straight towards a pinpoint right between a certain Mad Hatter's eyes. Batman launches into his own charge, whispering into his cowl mike as he moves, taking charge of the situation as usual. His charge, incidentally, is not towards the Hatter, or even towards the Scarecrow, but rather...towards Sandra. Time to evacuate the civilians, it would seem.

Batman says, "Nightwing, the goons are yours....Batgirl, move in and take up position to prevent possible escape."

Batgirl hears the sounds of Nightwing making his move as soon as the lamp is out, but then there's a voice in her cowl that of their mentor. If the girl's shoulders rise and fall in a slight sigh it would go unnoticed in the darkness as the girl begins to move forward to take up a background position to keep any from escaping the scene if any get past the Dark Knight and Nightwing.

Watching the wingdings soar with their trademark precision to embed themselves into the hand of Tweedle-Dum, Nightwing continues his headlong flight towards the lonely patch of light beneath the otherwise dark shroud of evening. Even as he continues to compress the distance, the masked figure hears the muted whirl of batarangs soaring just past him, no doubt well on their way to taking out the last of those bothersome tommy guns. Confident that is now one less thing to worry about, the young man's steps begin to slow as he nears the edge of the circle of light oddly cast from the lamp, reaching back over his shoulder to tug free his escrima sticks from where they rest. His eyes narrow as he takes note of the Scarecrow grappling with the young girl and he starts to advance towards the man, but a familar voice sounds to him over his earpiece and he abruptly turns away, attention returning to the Hatter's pair of hired goons. "Sorry to interrupt the party," he says even as he begins to advance on the throne at the head of the table.

With Batgirl still hanging back in the Shadows and a batarang sending the second Thompson into the dirt, The two thugs charge the first visible target and that is Nightwing. Two hamfisted thugs coming right up Mr. Grayson. As for the Bat's other Projectile. It is perfectly on target to crack the Hatter right in the middle of the skull.. but then it clunks soundly into the table.. What the!? How did it hit the table? It would seem it is because the table is raisng up the ground. Enough so that it gets in the way of batarang in flight. Tea cups lift up out from underneath Sophie and Sandra and soon the large tea table completely with Dr. Cranes Scythe impaled through is flying through the air.. Towards the bat. As the dust settles a mountain of a man raises up where the table once was. He once tore down open the copper doors to Dis and set evil loose upon the city. The death's head mask and baleful eyes leave no mystery to who Tetch's new defender is. Bane has joined the fray. Even as he stands he raises up a very very large gun. The type that is meant to be mounted on attack hellicopters. There is a mechanical whir as the barrels beging to spin and build up speed. "A shame.. I was looking forawrd to a good fight, but I have a feeling my associate and I are left short of time." His voice echos like a demon just uncaged from hell. The whir is louder as the barrels build up speed and he level the huge Weapon, "Tetch! tell the women to get down!"

Danger! Danger has come to the tea party! Instantly, and without warning, the funny little man leaps from his huge armchair and onto the nearby table - accidentally avoiding a batarang that would of put him out of commission for the rest of the evening, thanks to his overly melodramatic, but just as welcomed comrade, Bane. "SToP BReAthiNg," he yells out loudly to his 'Alices' and commands them, in a way, to kill themselves. No one steals the Mad Hatter's fun! No one! ... except the Caped Canary, and his little Birdbrain friends. Curses! "CuRSes," Tetch yells as he runs along the top of the table as it wobbles in the air under Bane's might, only to mercilessly scoop up the stuffed bunny rabbit in one of his knobby hands. "No ROom, nO RooM, NO rOOm," he yells loudly, quickly running away.

Sophie's diligence towards that teacup never falters, even as the Scarecrow tugs on her neck, she continues to sip. That is, until the chip is pulled away. Too bad that order didn't reach her in time, Hattie. First her eyelids fall heavy, then spring back open with a flutter of surprise as the child coughs and sputters up tea. Bleh. The cup is actually thrown across the ground, but no, that's not all! Next come the waterworks. Like any child who has just woken up from a nightmare to find out she's still in it, Sophia's face wrinkles and her mouth opens wide in one of those silent screams that don't exactly come until a breath is taken. Once that breath is taken, the child lets loose in an ear-splitting wail that would make dogs howl for days. Her hands go to her eyes as if to hide her from the danger that's everywhere. Oh, the trauma of it all!

Well now. Flying tables. How positively rude! There must be a clause for flying tables in the Miss Manners handbook. Not that Sandra would ever have read it, mind you. The flying furnature is an inconvenience, but not the worst of them. Breathing is fun and a wonderful passtime, but upon command, Sandra-Alice consciously tries to stop breathing. Now, whether when she passes out her body would take over and make her breathe dispite the mindcontrol is not clear, but if not, then there's a problem. Fortunately, however, only a pose ago Batman was headed for her, so though she does obey the Mad Hatter's order, maybe Batman will be able to save the day.

Scarecrow doesn't let go of the little girl just yet, though he seems to be getting quite panicked as the vigilantes close in. The waterworks don't really help. "Sophie, dear, listen to me.. It's Jonathan, and I know I look like a monster right now, but you have to do exactly as I say. You can have the puppy.. you can have a hundred puppies if you want, you can go to school and I'll teach you whatever you want to know, and we can even find your parents.. but only if you run *right now* and don't look back." He raises his voice with the din, hoping desperately all the while that someone doesn't take this opportunity to shoot him in the head. He keeps one arm loosely Sophie's neck even as the table rises up, enough that she could pull away if she decided to run, though he does pivot quickly to put himself between Bane and the poor sobbing kid. Now that his hand is free as the chip has been removed, Scarecrow grabs the sickles off the rope at his waist and holds them ready in his left hand.

Batman reacts as he always does to rapidly changing situations: Quickly and decisively. He leaps into the air, avoiding the flying table with a rather graceful flip. As he lands, his hands once again move towards the utility belt. One hand hits the jamming signal that disrups the Hatter's mind-control chips oh-so-nicely. (Shouldn't have broadcast on TV, you gave the Dark Knight time to prepare). The second hand comes up and tosses several capsules towards Bane, or more specifically, towards that mammoth cannon he's wielding. He's hoping the powerful acid within (Ironically, a derivative of a Joker formula), will damage the gun so much as to make it unusable. Of course, this is all within the span of split seconds, and Batman tucks into a roll that continues to take him towards Sandra, lashing out with powerful arms to drag her to the ground and under the line of fire. This time he doesn't bother whispering, instead shouting over the ruckus: "Nightwing! Stop Crane! Batgirl! The Hatter is yours!" Bane....what on -earth- is Bane doing working for Tetch? Oh well, he'll find out after he's beaten the brute to a pulp.

The cowled figure watches as the table rises and the large form of Bane with gun in hand appears taking aim at Batman even as Nightwing is engaged by the thugs. Every muscle and nerve in the girl itches to join in to help the others but she has her orders and hence does nothing but hang back and watch not willing to let the Batman down yet again. And then the order is given and Batgirl goes into motion though by hanging back there's space between herself and her assigned target though the distance closes faster then would seem possible.

Whoa boy. Talk about your unwelcome surprises. There's nothing quite like watching a mountain of a man rising out of nowhere. Unless it's watching a mountain of a man with a very, very powerful gun rising out of nowhere. It would almost be an intimidating sight... if, of course, Nightwing had the time and inclination to be intimidated. Unfortunately, while the Mad Hatter might seem intent on hightailing it away from the trio of vigilantes descending on his little gathering, his hired muscle doesn't seem to be so inclined. Unless taking a swing at someone is their way of politely saying 'hello'. Which might not be out of the question considering their apparent relative intelligence. Ducking back from the pair of men -- and not incidentally putting a little more distance between himself and Bane on the off chance that Batman doesn't arrive quickly to deal with the mammoth man -- Nightwing waits for the pair of dense henchmen to come to him. And luck being what it is the young girl in the Scarecrow's graps chooses that moment to start wailing. While the two thungs might be startled by that very loud sound, Nightwing is less distracted. With a sharp rap of his escrima stick to Tweedle-Dee's temple, one of the hired guns goes down. The other stick is hurled towards the second on the pair, striking just above his knee -- and judging by the yelp the man gives -- strikes rather forcefully. With the Hatter's hencemen at least temporarily taken care of, Nightwing turns back towards the Scarecrow and the young girl he holds, advancing grimly towards the man.

If Bane scowls or is upset by this turn of events his mask does it's job admirable of hiding any emtion he might show. The capsules of accide strike home and metals sizzles. But still the barrels are up to speed. He's only going to have a few seconds of fire out of this thing but he'll be damned if he doesn't make the most off it... The trigger is gently squeezed and the large gun belches forth a hail off bullets approximately chest high Batman and Sandra are already safely beneath the level of fire As for the rest Bane blinding hoses and if the rest don't have the sense to get down, well then that's their problem. With each round that is vomited out of the gun it sputters more It's few seconds are almost up. Calmly Bane backs away, never taking his view away from his foes even as he prepars to toss away the now useless gun.

The funny looking man runs as fast as his little legs will take him, dragging behind a stuffed bunny-rabbit that flops up and down off the grassy ground. With the one hand wrapped around the leg of the toy, and the other holding onto the brim of his olive-green top hat, the Mad Hatter huffs and puffs rapidly. This isn't fun, he thinks to himself as the sounds of battle echo out behind him. This isn't fun in the least bit. "I'm LaTE, i'M lAte, fOR a vERy imPOrtANt dAte," he wheezes as soft as he possibly can, the pitter-patter of his shoes tapping up and down, "nO tIMe tO sAy hEllO ... gOOdBye! I'm LaTE, i'M lAte, I'm laTE." What Tetch would do for a xylophone made out of silver and piece of blueberry-flavored gum right about now.

"Cr..Crane?" Little Sophie turns her head to look at him, only to find herself face to face with a horrifying monster wearing a potato sack on his head. AGH! Her scream seems to only rise in pitch as she moves a clean fist, and a dress shoe-covered foot squa towards the Scarecrow's treasurebag. Yeah, you know what I'm talkin' about. A few kicks even go to his shins and feet. If and when the child subdues her 'attacker,' she plans on taking off like a bolt of lighting in whatever direction there aren't things that go bump in the night.

And Sandra is not only suddenly given control of her own mind once again, but she ALSO gets to be in the strong arms of Batman. Briefly. And in order to avoid being killed to death, but nonetheless, she lands with an 'urmph' and starts to shake her brains back into working order. Then, the rush of facts wrestles its way through busy signals and it registers on her (at least sort of) that this hasn't been a dream at all. She really is here, there really is there, and these people are real, and like Sophie she screams, but only once before shouting the names she does now. Specifically, 'Sophie' and 'Jona and 'Jesus H. Christ'. Next, shoving to try to get away from Batman--whom she unfortunately does not know from Joe Shmoe, she remembers while doing so that her leg hurts--the remenants of having been shot only last week(?) by Tommy.

Scarecrow, as his player is a girl and hasn't the faintest how to properly act when kicked in certain exclusively male areas, is kicked repeatedly in the shin. o O (Little snot. She's lucky she's such a good cook.) But, as Crane has also been stabbed and cut and shot in the leg, said kicks hurt a little more than they normally would. Still, he manages to release his arm and, after the gunfire has ceased, stumble to his feet, putting a sickle in each hand and pointing the left one as menacingly as he can manage at Nightwing. The fact that he just got smacked around by a little girl doesn't really help, though. Nor does that blood that's slowly seeping out of his right boot. "Touch her and die, bird." He suddenly wobbles a little, the sickle in his right hand clattering to the ground as the hand goes to his head instead. o O (Ugh.. I wish the ground would hold still..) He shakes his head, looking over his shoulder, past Bane and to the Bat and.. "Sandra! For the love of.. Will you *run* already?!" Yes, he does actually *ignore* that steroid-pumped man that's causing so much trouble right now. We'll blame it on the bloodloss.

Batman doesn't seem intent on holding onto Sandra long. In fact, he releases her about the same time that that gun finally comes to a sputtering halt. "Stay low and keep moving" He barks sharply to the woman, and points her in the right direction, before rolling to his feet, and launching into the air in a flying kick towards the man-mountain with the now useless gun. "You shouldn't have come back, Bane...."

As the Hatter runs off the black clad form of Batgirl follows after him, her cape floating out behind her as long strides eat up the head start on her that he'd held. The cowled face remains fixed on her target even as she reaches and passes the fighting taking place though out of the corner of her eye as the last of Nightwing's opponents hits the ground and the sound of Batman's voice name's his large opponent.

As the roaring rattle of Bane's rather impressive gun rumbles out, Nightwing drops to one knee warily, drawing back his hand and preparing to hurl his second stick at the imposing figure. But the rumblings of life from the weapon are short-lived thankfully and the young masked man turns his attention back to the potato-sack wearing Scarecrow, eyes blinking briefly in surprise before narrowing once more. 'Touch her and die'? Wasn't he supposed to be the one ordering the villain to leave the girl alone? Talk about having your thunder stolen. Rising to both feet once more, Nightwing advances with his escrima stick held at the ready. "Give it up Crane. You don't have a leg left to stand on," he retorts sharply, eyes flickering downward momentarily towards the thin trail of blood visible about the man's boot. Judging by that, his statement is quite literally true. "Come quietly like a good boy. You don't look like you're up for any more rough-housing tonight." That at least is true. And hey, it's always possible that he'll actually take the easy option. Though admittedly, few villains choose that route. Sigh.

With all attention seemingly off her, little Sophie takes off running in some odd direction. No telling which, but it's definately out of the amusement park. Scared out of her wits, once again the loveable street starfish joins the streets which she has been roaming for so long.

The now smoldering gun is tossed to the ground where it clatters uselessly.... Bane's baleful red eyes focus on the Bat as he launches at him with a flying kick. "And you should have stayed in your chair Amigo!" is Banes retort. Setting himself in the face of the coming onslaught, the villian exhales sharply as the flying kick finds home on his iron jaw. Bane reals backwards under the powerful blow, but he starts to spin to maintain his balance. As he does His head and shoulder squeeze together trying to trap the Batmans foot, even as a powerful arm underhooks the leg as he tries to spin the bat down to the ground. His other arm raises up and tries to rain down a heavy hammer fist onto the dark knights knee.

Almost ... there ... the Mad Hatter continues to scamper along the carnival grounds and further away from the battle going on in the background. Surely Crane has been captured by now, and his two, lovely Alices are free from his electronic grasp. "FiDDle, fadDle," he curses to himself as a shadow crosses over his tiny form. Looking up with his dark eyes, and widening them in shock, he sees ... Batgirl? A girl bat, to say the least. And, instinctively, he tosses the stuffed bunny rabbit high into the air, and towards his caped foe ... right before the bomb inside of the toy explodes!

Sandra does indeed do as both Jonathan and Batman instructed her. She limps, mostly, hobbling Terry Fox style as Away From Here as she can manage to get and as quickly. She has no interest in knowing any more about what's going on here, the poor innocent lil civilian is terrified enough as it is. So, she, like Sophie, simply runs, and besides a quick look back toward Jona and Nightwing, has nothing to say. (What could you say to something like that anyway?)

"Don't insult my intelligence, boy." Scarecrow pauses, flicking his right hand enough to dislodge something that tied to his wrist. A vial slides out from beneath his glove, which he promptly tosses into his open hand. He'd be a good card dealer.. but I digress. Popping the cap off the vial, he holds a thumb over the top to keep the gaseous purple substance inside. Bane and Batman demand his attention, however, the two beginning to grapple dangerously close. He scrambles aside, blood spilling out of his boot and standing the ground. In his haste and blood-deprived confusion, the second sickle drops as well. The vial is still held to tightly, however, to the point that the glass seems about ready to shatter. "Breathe deep." Releasing the vial, he flings it to the ground several yards away from where he stands. The glass does indeed shatter then, and the highly compressed purple vapor begins to float out.

Batman barely manages to twist into a backflip that avoids Bane's attempted 'snatch and grab'. He looks ready to launch into another attack, but then hears the Scarecrow's vial shatter. The briefest of glances over his shoulder, and another backflip to gain distance, as his hand snatches the gas-mask from his utility belt and places it over his cowl. Unfortunately, the maneuver does indeed buy Bane a few precious seconds. Prime escape opportunity if ever there was one.

Batgirl doesn't know Batman's rogue gallery like the others do, of course it doesn't help that she can't read the information stored in the Batcomputer and in Oracle's files. Hence as Hatter tosses the bunny in the air she doesn't give it much thought as she continues to close the gap until it begins to fall in her periphery vision and then she reacts grabbing the bunny for a moment before and then releasing it to toss it aside as the bomb inside goes off. The explosion sends the girl into the side of one of the buildings the two had been passing, leaving the black form of the girl in a still heap.

When is he going to learn? Sure, it's all nice and noble to give the villain a chance to surrender. But they never, ever accept it. No, instead they fire potshots at you, or -- in the Scarecrow's case -- toss toxic chemicals that will undoubtably have him reliving his worst nightmares any second. All this, and he could have simply waltzed up to the man and rapped him smartly over the head. But noooooooo. And this is his reward. Holding his breath and tossing himself to the side in an effort to avoid the effects of the Scarecrow's vial, Nightwing hurls his escrima stick at the man even as he dives to the ground. His eyes dart between the hooded villain and the billowing cloud of purple that spews forth from the shattered vial even as he hits that ground heavily.

As the Bat backflips out of what could well have been a broken leg, Bane quickly moves back as the purple haze causes a wall between, "Good by Batman... Perhaps I'll come by for a drink and we can finish this." And as the purple cloud puts the wall between him and the Bat he turns and heads off into the night. He moves really well for a man his size. Passing Tetch and the now prone Batgirl he scoops up the small man and tucks him neatly beneath his arm. "Time to go."

Thump! Thump? The Mad Hatter quickly skids to a halt, then turns to look behind him, wondering what it was that made that funny noise. It wasn't his bunny-bomb. That already went klaboomy. Blinking once, then twice, then three times, Tetch spots the Heap of Batgirl laying in the shadows and quickly covers his mouth with both hands. "Uh-oH," he says seriously, knowing what this means for his future. Batman will surely be mad, now. How wonderful! Tetch immediately begins to giggle, then spins around and flees ... into Bane's arms? Oh my!

Scarecrow just can't stand up anymore. And thus, he ceases the standing-up and sits down, blood now flowing freely out of his right boot. He puts his forehead in a hand, watching the gas drift his way with a glazed-over sort of look.. well, as much of one as can be seen from beneath a burlap sack. "Listen to me, Batman," he manages, eyeing the blood as it pools at his feet, "..because I'm only going to say this one, and after that I will blame what I have said on insomnia and stress and blood loss and fear gas.. So enjoy it. Thank you." His sappy little speech is put to an end as he begins a violent coughing fit, a few flecks of blood coming through the slit in his mask. Finally, just to spare himself further pain and torture as the gas seeps into his system, he tips over, unconscious.

Batman's head jerks to the side at the sound of the explosion, and though it's not visible through the mask, his eyes widen considerably as Batgirl gets tossed like the proverbial rag-doll. Needless to say, everything else becomes a secondary concern. He launches himself towards his fallen student, sliding to a halt next to her, immediately reaching to check for a pulse and respiration. Once he's at least assured she's still alive, he scoops her up in his arms, sparing only one furious glance towards the escaping Bane and Tetch. Oh yes, the Hatter is going to pay for this in spades, of that he can be assured. Bodyguard or no..... "Nightwing, get Crane to the proper authorities and medical attention. I'm going to take care of Batgirl." And with that, he launches a grapnel, heading to the relative safety of the roofs to get back to the Batmobile, and the Cave, ASAP.

And just like that, things are over. Crane is out, Bane and Mad Hatter are gone -- thought undoubtably they will be seen again before too long, wrecking their own particular brand of havoc. Nightwing watches on worriedly as Batman scoops up Batgirl and races off, merely nodding to his mentor's orders to take care of what remains -- seeing that Crane and the pair of hapless thugs get to the proper authorities. Which he promptly sees to. Contacting them, he gathers together the unfortunate three who are to spend time in a correctional facility near you before gathering up his wayward weapons -- his job done for the evening.