- Hey, hey, hey. Hey, wake up.
Skids.
Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey, Skids.
Can you smell the bacon?
I smell bacon.
- Wha--
- Where--where--what--
- Come on, Skids. Up and at 'em.
- You're late. - I'm-I'm what? Where--
Don't you remember?
You were supposed to rat me out.
Tell your boss, Commissioner Gordon,
you know who the Scarecrow is.
But oopsie-daisy, here we are instead.
Oh, no, no, I--
Yeah, yeah, yeah, it's bad.
It's bad.
Uh, the last guy who tried to rat me out,
I ratted him out, Skids.
But I-I used real rats.
- My-my head, it hurts. I can't think straight.
- Yeah, that's because right when you were
least expecting it, I-I hit you as hard as I could
in the back of the skull with an old rotary phone.
Repeatedly.
More than sufficient to render you unconscious.
It was an emotional response, Skids.
And I'm not proud of it.
And, uh, now I got a broken telephone
and a lot of shame.
But dad-gummit, I was angry and I was hurt
because you are not who you said you were, Skids.
You're not Tony "Skids" Rossetti at all,
are you?
That's a costume, isn't it? A second skin.
What happens when we peel the skin, Skids?
Who do we find underneath?
GCPD, Skids.
Well, boogedy-boogedy-boo. We got a spook.
- What's-what's around my neck?
- I call it a kill collar. Is it too tight?
I hope not.
It's not supposed to kill you by strangulation.
See, the kill collar is wired to your heart rate.
And the kill collar only goes ka-pop
if you panic.
You stay calm, you stay happily capitated.
But you blow your cool, you give in to fear...
Your meatball rolls off the spaghetti.
- So what, you gonna drug me up with your poison?
- Oh, come on now. That wouldn't be sporting.
You have genuine courage.
I'm not gonna rob you of that.
Real steel spine infiltrating my gang like this.
I respect courage.
But I still think I can scare you.
Because fear was here first.
Fear comes gushing out of the womb with us.
We don't have to learn fear.
Like that delicious panic that comes
from the barrel of a loaded gun pointed right at your face.
Nobody taught you that. That's wisdom.
Or a big knife in the hand of a maniac--
would you like to see my knife?
Switchblade, witch blade, boogedy-boo!
No? Not scared?
Still cool as a cucumber? Okay.
Sure, it's not all that scary if I wave it around
way over here, but, isn't this funny,
the closer I wave it to your soft parts...
if I put the point anywhere near your eyeball...
And then if I, you know,
- lunge...
- At you a little-- careful, Skids,
your kill collar'll go pop.
You see?
Even a brave cop like you has all kinds of fears
he can't do anything about.
It's not courage that sets limits on fear.
Fear sets limits on courage.
- I'm not afraid to die, you f-freak.
Aww. What a childish lie.
That has never been true, whoever said it,
never once in the history of human civilization.
Here, I propose a wager.
If you win-- uh, well, let's just say
you want to try to win.
Here, put your palm down flat on the table here.
Like that, yeah. Slap wood there,
you lily-livered varmint. Come on, come on.
Just put your hand on it. There you go.
Now, spread your fingers out real wide.
- Hey! - Aww, come on,
that's a million miles away from your fingers.
But it scared you pretty good, didn't it?
You tried to stay calm,
but you had nothing to say about it.
See, you want to spread those fingers out.
- Oh, that's a lot closer.
I'll be honest,
I can't see too well in this mask.
But you trust me, don't you?
Let me try again. I used to be real good at this.
Long time ago.
Haven't had a lot of practice lately, but--
you know this game.
Uh, tough guys everywhere play it.
Some people call it "Five Finger Fillet."
I always called it...
Stabberscotch!
Because you hop, hop, hop between the fingers, right?
Rules are simple.
Fast as you can between all the fingers
without an accident.
See, now you're getting a little nervous.
Why is that? Let's apply a little logic.
Stabbed finger isn't gonna kill you, is it, Skids?
But if you don't stay calm, you lose your meatball.
Remember? It should be easy to--
- Keep it together. Keep it together.
Talk yourself through it
as if you can reason with instinct.
Now, going between each finger in order is easy.
But how about a different pattern?
Say, one, two, one, three, one, four, one, five.
Ooh! Ooh, that's-
- that's much harder. - J-just relax.
Just relax.
- Keep your eyes open, Skids. Watch what I can do!
Two, six, three, six, four, six, three, six,
- two, six--whoo! - Stay-stay calm!
- Stay calm! - Oh, Skids, Skids,
now you're getting scared and I can taste it.
Mmm. I can taste your fear.
It's like a big spaghetti dinner
just like great-granny used to make.
Oh, the bravery.
Skids, it makes it all the more savory.
of an unfinished symphony.
Join us now for another tale
of life and death in Gotham City.
March 2nd. Fugue and upheaval citywide.
Penguin and Two-Face make the final moves
to consolidate absolute power.
And as the city convulses with crime,
the Scarecrow reaps a harvest of panic,
peddling psychedelic nightmares
under every broken streetlight.
It's a tuneless concerto of pandemonium.
And worse still,
Catwoman is more than happy to pounce
on whoever is caught without a chair
when the music stops.
Batman and Robin can't waste a moment's time
if they hope to stabilize the situation
roiling Gotham's brutal ganglands.
Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Step right up, ladies and gentlemen,
boys and girls, to the big top
of Haly's Harbor Circus and Sideshow.
Once a respected name in wholesome entertainment,
now a thoroughly mobbed-up front operation
for innumerable low-rent criminal enterprises.
You won't find much of an audience
during the day for their ill-mannered clowns
and inebriated acrobats,
but the darkest hours of the night
are a different story.
- Next up to the auction block tonight,
ladies and gentlemen, please direct your attention
to my lovely assistant, as if I have to ask.
Oh, Fifi!
- Oui, oui, monsieur. - Ooh-la-la.
Wheel that next cage on out here,
would you, mademoiselle,
so we can take a look at this magnificent
800-pound silverback gorilla.
with a different kind of paying customer.
A menagerie of colorful criminals
that rivals the actual menagerie on offer
for illegal purchase.
- Ladies and gentlemen of the underworld,
this extraordinary brute stands a full 7 feet tall.
He has been trained in the use of American Sign Language
and small firearms.
He can roll his own cigars.
And he answers to the name Knuckles.
Now, everyone knows the right exotic pet can be
the lynchpin to a memorable criminal identity.
And whether you're fleshing out a safari-themed gang
or just looking to add a little surreal flare
to your illicit escapades,
Knuckles the Pistol-Slinging Gorilla
is the last word in making your gimmick pop.
So shall I start the bidding at 100,000?
As the frenzied bidding commences,
all eyes are on the auctioneer.
All save one young pair watching keenly
from the shadows of the trapeze rigging
- high above. - Robin to Batcave.
I'm in position with eyes on what has to be
every C-list racketeer and dope lord in town.
Even the lovely assistant looks like she's scheming
- to loot the joint. - There are enough
outstanding warrants under that tent
to fill a new wing of Blackgate, Robin.
But we're only interested in one of them tonight.
Androcles Thorne.
- Androcles Thorne. Scanning the crowd.
Target acquired.
- His father, Rupert Thorne, is the last
of the old-school Gotham crime capos,
and he's cashing out, retiring.
- So hotshot Androcles wants to finally take over
the family business.
- He has big ideas, but he's rash,
careless, inexperienced.
If we take Thorne's operation out of the mix,
we may have a chance to stabilize the underworld.
- And Knuckles the gorilla is sold...
To Maximillian Monkeyshines.
Congratulations, Max.
Please pass the financial particulars
in an envelope to our lovely assistant
for collection.
- Okay, he looks like a lightweight.
- What's the play? - Pickpocketing 101.
- Many more exciting items up for auction tonight.
We've got a dancing sea lion, some Komodo dragons,
and one of those elephants that likes to paint pictures.
But first, ladies and gentlemen,
behold the king of beasts!
A magnificent fully-grown male African lion.
- That lion is what young Thorne is after.
When he wins the auction,
you intercept the envelope
with his bank account number inside.
If we put the squeeze on his financials,
- the rest is easy. - Sure, I'll swipe it
from the assistant backstage without breaking a sweat.
But why are you so sure he's interested
in the lion, Batman?
They're running everything from hyenas to ostriches.
Androcles Thorne, Robin.
If he's trying to launch a flamboyant crime career,
all he's missing is the lion.
Um...
- According to myth it was Androcles
who pulled a thorn out of a lion's paw.
Oh, right. Sure.
In "Aesop's Fables"?
- Eventually attributed to Aesop,
but originally from Apion,
in his lost work "Aegyptiacorum."
Someone is not keeping up with their assigned reading.
- Uh-oh. - Bat computer...
Adjust the daily schedule
to increase Robin's library time
to three hours in the evenings.
Aww, man.
Why does Gotham gotta have such educated crooks?
- Expect Androcles to get into a bidding war
with Rat King Cole.
Cole intends to buy the lion
for his daughter Georgina's eighth birthday.
He's certain to outbid Thorne,
so you'll need to distract him at the crucial moment.
- Not a problem. Tell Alf I'll be home
- for dinner. - Excellent.
I'll have him serve you in the library.
- Batman out.
But the boy wonder has little time
to rue his misfortune as the auction is heating up.
- Very good. Do I hear 200? 200.
A bid of 200 from Mr. Androcles Thorne.
- Do I-- - 300.
- Well, 300 is the bid from His Majesty Rat King Cole.
Okay. Better get to work.
Rat King Cole is not an easy man to reach.
The only phone he answers is the burner in his vest pocket.
I bid 400.
and is known to exactly three
of his most trusted associates,
all of whom are sitting in the big top bleachers
beside him.
So who could that possibly be?
- What the--hello?
- Yeah, hi, is this Rat King Cole?
Who the hell is this?
- King Cole, you jolly old soul,
how are you?
This is Blabbo the Birthday Clown.
You might have seen me on TV.
- What? - Listen, I hear
little Georgina's turning eight.
Is that right? Boy, they shoot up
like weeds, don't they?
How'd you get this number?
Look, can I level with you?
Business is bad, straight up bad,
and I'm always trying to scare up a little action
where I can.
So do you mind if I ask you, how are you fixed
for birthday entertainment at the present time?
- And the lion is...
Sold to Androcles Thorne.
- What? Wait--
Congratulations, Mr. Thorne.
Please pass your personal banking envelope
to our lovely assistant.
Hey, what's the big idea?
You sound busy. I better go.
Think it over, though. The name is Blabbo.
- What the hell just happened?
- And better luck next time to Rat King Cole.
That's why we ask you to silence all cell phones.
Next on the auction block-- uh-oh, folks,
it's Olive the Oil-Painting Elephant.
- If I find
that birthday clown, he's gonna wish
he was never born.
As the verminous vice-lord vibrates with rage,
the boy wonder trains his eyes on his next target.
Oh, merci, Monsieur Thorne.
The assistant collects the payment envelope
from a jubilant Androcles Thorne
and heads off to deposit it backstage.
- Now for some pickpocketing 101.
Hiyah! Nimbly negotiating
the aerial rigging,
the former circus boy is easily able
to follow the assistant unseen.
As she couriers the precious envelope
to a secure area...
with an almost numinous silence,
Robin reaches out and swiftly takes--
- Hiyah! - What the--
A sharp elbow to the chin?
- Uh-uh-uh, Boy Wonder.
You don't get to collect the kitty
if you didn't ante up.
- Ow. What--aww, no. Catwoman?
Indeed.
Robin's first impressions were on the mark.
The lovely assistant was planning to rob the joint.
And discarding her extravagant wig
as she stuffs a thick stack of bank envelopes
into her getaway bag,
it seems as if she already has.
- Stay down, kid. - Seriously?
Fifi the French girl?
Yeah, I'm not subtle.
Now, focus up. I didn't hit you that hard.
I'm turning all the animals loose,
then the lion and the loot are coming home with me.
Do the smart thing
and fly on home yourself, little bird.
No reason to risk losing any of those baby teeth
- over this. - Are you kidding?
This isn't just another one of your heists, Catwoman.
The financial information you're carrying
could ruin half the Gotham underworld.
- Sounds like I get paid and the good guys win.
- No, it sounds like a bunch of small-timers
who are already feeling the squeeze go bust
right as Two-Face and Penguin are turning up the heat.
- So what? So the small-timers
eat each other alive.
- And how many innocent citizens are
collateral damage?
Mm, sorry, kid.
I didn't buy this pitch from the Bat,
so I'm definitely not interested
in the travel-size version.
- I'm not letting you get away.
- Mm, then you're going to watch the circus burn down.
- Uh-uh, you're not starting any fires tonight.
Hmm. Okay.
- Make a move and--
Oh, baby bird,
the move's been made.
- Holy stampede!
- Yeah, Fifi gave Knuckles the Gorilla a flamethrower.
- Oh, sweet mother Mavis, the gorilla has a flamethrower!
- Tell Batman I'm fighting this war
on my terms from now on.
I don't run it by him first and I don't ask permission.
If he wants to avoid collateral damage,
he'll keep his face clear of my boots.
As she disappears into the smoke and chaos...
- Robin to Batcave. - Batman here.
Did you get the envelope?
- Uh, good news and bad news on that front.
The circus is on fire and Catwoman is getting away
with a fortune in mob money.
- Catwoman? What's the good news?
- No time for extra library tonight.
Gotta go. Robin out.
The Catwoman refuses to be tamed.
For the city is a jungle, and the jungle needs a queen,
a truth that undergirds life and death in Gotham City.
- Are you looking for fun?
- Are you looking for the life of the party?
- Are you looking for Blabbo the Birthday Clown?
Well, he's easy to find.
- See his listing in the Gotham yellow pages
for his exact business address,
which is also his place of residence.
He's waiting by the phone.
So if you're looking for a Blabbo,
there's no way you won't find him.
- Blabbo the Birth--
- We interrupt this broadcast for a breaking news bulletin
from Gotham City One.
- Good evening. This is Jack Ryder.
I have just arrived on the scene of a report
that there is an army of escaped circus animals
rampaging through downtown.
Their leader is said to be-- what does that say, Mickey?
A gorilla with a flamethrower? That can't be right.
Oh, okay. Nope.
That is what I'm looking at. Apologies, Mickey.
All right, you know what, though?
Let's stand back a minute here, Mickey.
You got the shot.
You really want to die on this hill?
For what, a local news award?
The city is advising owners of downtown businesses
to board up their windows if at all possible.
Robin the Boy Wonder is on the scene
and is doing a miraculous job
of herding the beasts to safety.
But many animals have broken into storefronts,
and they're causing considerable property damage.
I'm told there's literally
a bull in a china shop on Front Street.
That's obviously gonna be the headline,
but we've also spotted an ostrich
in a ceiling fan store
and a giant Pacific octopus
in an adult novelty shop,
so maybe put the little ones to bed
if you're gonna stay with our coverage.
Neither of those situations
is gonna get more family-friendly.
We're with this story as it develops
on Gotham City One.
Gotham, portrait of an obscurity
in onyx and jet.
Join us now for another tale
of life and death in Gotham City.
A quiet night outside the towering Greek columns
of the Gotham Museum of Fine Arts.
"'The Harlequin' is here,"
proclaims a black and red banner
strung across the stately marble façade.
It refers to a priceless work of art on display inside
but might just as accurately refer to the arrival
of a windowless van just pulling up
to the museum's front steps.
- Okay, you mugs. This is it.
and Wallpaper Services"
is what the van says on the outside.
But the crew inside has
a different job in mind for tonight.
- Scare up the night watchman
and I'll handle the rest.
- Sure thing, Ms. Harley. - You got it, boss.
Hauling a load of stolen paint supplies
to the service entrance,
the two thugs make a bid for immediate attention.
- I'm coming, for crying out loud.
Hold your--
The heck is all this?
- They're paint cans and paintbrushes, pally.
Where do you want us to put 'em?
- What? - Yeah.
We're the painting crew, Mac.
- What? Nobody ordered a painting crew.
- Oh, really?
That's too bad, Jackson.
'Cause I'm here to paint the town red.
an animate fever dream
arrayed in crimson felt and bells.
Pinwheel eyes spin behind a black mask
set upon a leering mug of alabaster.
Harley Quinn has begun her criminal career.
What an entrance.
- Oh, brother, a new one. - Yeah, that's right.
I'm the new act in town.
Now, don't get cute or Rosso here will show you
how he puts the pain in painting.
- Who are you supposed to be, like, a mime?
Mime?
What, I look like a mime to you?
- Yeah, I'm getting a mime vibe.
- 'Cept I'm screamin' at ya, you ding-dong.
Oh, boy, are you ign'ant.
- Look, I don't keep up with you kids
and your crime gimmicks.
Crime Mime makes as much sense to me as Calendar Man.
- Okay, wise guy, that attitude ain't promotin'
a healthy lifestyle.
You better take your vitamins.
- Huh? - Hold him down
- and pinch his nose, boys. - What the--
Harley Quinn introduces the night watchman
to a fistful of mixed pharmaceuticals.
- Oh, go on, ya baby, swallow 'em.
- They're just psych meds.
What kind of psych meds?
- The kind that'll make you feel better.
- Psych!
- Now that'll knock him out for a while.
- Yeah, but they'll come looking for him
if he doesn't call in.
- We gotta put some mustard on it.
and coveralls at the door,
the newly-minted crime gang creeps its way swiftly
to the grand gallery.
- Okay, you coconuts, the painting's in here.
Now, remember--
But the remainder of that sentence is forgotten
as Harley Quinn first lays eyes
upon "The Harlequin."
Oh, my jeepers.
Her heart stops.
It's a miracle.
She's never been more certain of anything
in her entire life.
It's meant to be.
Because the face staring down at her
from within the picture frame,
it's the face Harley sees every morning
staring back at her in the mirror.
It's me!
It's the spittin' image of ol' Miss Harleen Quinzel.
Her mind reels with the cosmic coincidence.
Nero, can you believe this?
Don't that look just like me?
You mean the painting?
Rosso, is that not bizarre?
- I'm not sure what you're referring to, boss.
Are you not seeing this?
This is the most noodle-bendin' freak-out
I've ever experienced.
What are the odds of an exact likeness?
- You know, boss, no offense, but--
- That girl in the painting, she looks just like me!
Girl? In the painting?
- Okay, that's definitely a painting of a man, boss.
In fact, it is.
More specifically, it's a painting of a man
in his late 50s with a handlebar mustache
and eyebrows that meet in the middle.
But Harley Quinn has found her calling,
and there's no turning back.
- Ooh, yes sirree, bobtail. A perfect likeness!
- Okay, so how are we gonna get it out of here?
- It's big. Gotta move it quick.
- Backup security will be here any minute.
Oh, relax, you screwballs.
We're not here to steal the painting.
What?
- Steal a billion-dollar painting?
What would be funny about that?
- Oh, boy. - Uh, we trying to be
- funny here, boss? - Doy!
Yeesh, yeah, hello, I'm trying to win the heart
of a comedy legend, remember?
No, no. No robbery.
We're just here to receive the next sign.
What sign, boss?
Another sign from Mr. J.
He's led me this far.
He's gotta have something else in mind for me.
- Oh, boy. - I got the gimmick,
I got the outfit, but something is still missing.
That bozo out front didn't even get my getup.
- Boss, security is coming.
- Ah, maybe the clue is hidden in the painting.
Like those kitty magazines at the dentist's office.
- Uh, boss-- - Ooh, look!
A push-button audio tour.
- We can do this in the daytime, boss.
Welcome to the Gotham Museum
of Fine Arts exhibition of "The Harlequin."
- Hiya, toots.
- Who is "The Harlequin"? - Ooh, good question.
- A rowdy mixture of wit, ignorance, and grace
in a checkered costume.
- Ha! You got that right, sister.
What else? Come on.
- Boss, they're coming up the stairs.
"The Harlequin,"
theater's most beloved star-crossed lover
and magical fool.
Magical fool.
Oh, I love that.
You're really telling my life story, Miss Priss.
- The harlequin plays the most crucial role
in the traditional pantomime show.
- Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Give me the crucial part.
- For Harlequin alone has the power
to magically transform dreary melodrama
into madcap comedy.
- I do? How do I do that?
- Boss... - The secret
to the Harlequin's power is a magic bat or club
called a slapstick.
Magic bat!
That's it!
I need a killer slapstick routine.
- Slapstick comedy may involve both intentional violence
and violence by mishap.
- Those are Mr. J's favorite kinds!
- Boss, hurry up, please.
- As the epic comedy of the harlequinade unfolds,
amazing transformations happen on stage
at the touch of Harlequin's magic bat.
A fat policeman might become a living skeleton.
Or a dog may turn into a pile of sausages.
"Eureka," I says!
Unfortunately, so has security.
- All right, nobody move.
We have weapons drawn.
Okay, I know this looks bad,
but I think I can clear everything up.
I just need a bat that makes a dog turn into sausages.
- We're going back to Blackgate, Nero.
- Ah, it looks like it, Rosso. - No sudden moves.
We got you surrounded.
- Aww, youse two worry too much.
We're gonna be fine.
This whole scene is a classic setup.
The punchline is gonna be killer.
- Yeah? - What's the punchline, boss?
I don't know yet.
- Hmm. - All right, everybody,
hands where I can see 'em. Police are on their way.
As the security team closes in,
it would seem that barring
uniquely helpful comedic inspiration,
the criminal career of Harley Quinn has ended
before it even started.
But just then, Harley sees
salvation is rushing to meet her.
- Wait, wait, I got it. I got the punchline.
What's made of ivory and camel hair
and weighs 13,000 pounds?
- What-- - What's made
of ivory and camel hair and weighs 13,000 pounds?
- The heck are you talking abou--oh!
Everyone, look out!
Out of the way!
- An elephant with a paintbrush!
that not only have the escaped circus animals
reached the museum,
but Olive the Oil-Painting Elephant
has helped herself
to the abandoned painting supplies.
Wow, look at her go!
Rock on, sister.
Sweet frozen Moses!
Forget the crooks. Save the artwork.
- Boss, how about we get out while the gettin' is good?
- Heck yeah. What are you waiting for,
you duds? Let's beat it.
Mr. J needs me to find that magic bat
and make some sausages.
As Harley Quinn ambles headlong
down the trail towards to her prefab fate,
her prize seems within reach.
Yet destiny may still scatter her breadcrumbs.
No matter how current your map,
it's advised to ask for directions
when navigating life and death in Gotham City.
- Ladies and gentlemen, the Iceberg Lounge presents
the incomparable, inconsolable Miss Violet Bump.
Gotham, a company of marionettes
twisting in the wind.
Join us for another tale
of life and death in Gotham City.
The Iceberg Lounge.
Headquarters of the newly unified
- Penguin/ - Two-Face crime super-syndicate.
Though their partnership is already paying
handsome dividends to Oswald Cobblepot--
in the form of expert legal machinations--
Two-Face, meanwhile, is feeling
no concomitant benefit.
I don't want to do this.
Too bad.
We flipped for it. You lost.
Still suffering from a crippling disharmony
between his two halves,
he has spent the last several days
barricaded inside a luxury hotel suite,
piled to the rafters with obscure legal texts,
unable to bear any company but his own.
And he is running out of ways to cope
with a world full of choices that refuse to be as simple
as heads or tails.
- Welcome, dance enthusiasts,
to the "Learn to Dance at Home" series.
So you've decided to learn to dance the Two-Step.
Obviously.
Yeah, get on with it.
Let's boogie-woogie.
- With these easy-to-follow-along
instructions, you'll be two-stepping
in no time.
It's as easy as counting to two.
One, two.
- That's what we wanted to hear.
- Is your partner ready? - Yeah, yeah, yeah.
We're ready. Just get the show on the road.
Don't talk back to the record, please.
Shut up.
I can't help it if I got manners.
- Gent, place your right hand on her left shoulder
whilst your left arm is held out to the side,
slightly bent.
On the first beat, step forward
as your partner steps back.
- Like that? No, you move back.
I said I'm gonna lead.
Are you even listening to the music?
You realize it relates to our activities.
- Yes. - On the second beat,
glide each foot past the other--
quick, quick, slow, slow.
- Your foot goes there, dummy.
Watch what you're doing--
- What did I do? - One, two.
One, two. One. Two.
One, two, one, two. One. Two.
That's it. That's it. Now you're getting it.
One, two, one, two.
- One, two. - You're not even trying.
- I hate you. - One, two, one, two...
You're a midge.
A pestilential speck
buzzing in my ear, you know that?
- You are nothing to me. - One, two, one, two...
- The quintessence of insignificance.
I don't know what that means.
I know you don't.
- Of course you don't'! - One, two, one, two...
- Suddenly... - One, two...
- Huh?
What was that?
- Harvey? It's Oswald, old chum.
Are you all right?
What's going on in there?
Go away, Oswald.
And tell them to knock off
that ugly racket downstairs.
We're not doing any more
pro bono legal work for you.
- Aww, Harvey, that's not what this is about.
- You sold us a bum steer, Cobblepot.
What are we getting
out of this little partnership anyway, Oswald?
As near as we can tell, you have gotten
about a half dozen certifiable legal miracles.
You're practically police commissioner
thanks to us,
and we're over here scraping bupkes.
- I told you, I'm going to help you get well, Harvey.
The best medical attention money can buy.
Isn't that what I said?
This is well beyond the pale, Harvey.
You can no longer function in society.
Go away.
- But that's soon to be remedied, old egg.
I have someone here who can help you.
We said hit the arches.
We're not opening the door.
- He's a world-renowned psychiatrist, Harvey.
I spared no expense.
He was a protégé of the great professor
Hugo Strange.
The Hugo Strange?
Formerly chair of psychiatry at Gotham University?
Yes, Harvey, the very same.
This is his prize pupil.
You might say he's the second greatest
psychiatrist in town.
Oh, second greatest.
- The number two man. - That's it.
He's quite a remarkable physician,
and he's right here.
- Won't you speak with him? - No.
Are you certain, Harvey?
Why don't you ask the coin?
Go ahead, Harvey. I'll wait.
We could ask the coin.
I could ask the coin if I want to.
Oh, come on!
- There. Isn't that bet--yikes!
I see we're not a moment too soon.
This is him?
He's so skinny, he's only got one side.
You're taking cheap shots at his looks?
That's rich. I'll give you
some beauty tips, pretty boy.
- Yes, clearly we don't have a moment to waste.
Harvey Dent, I'd like you meet
your new personal mental health professional.
His name is Dr. Jonathan Crane.
- Why, hello, Mr. Dent, I'm so very pleased
to make your acquaintance.
Oh, the good doctor
is really going to get in your noggin
and give it a fresh coat of paint.
You won't believe the difference.
Isn't that right, Dr. Crane?
Oh, most certainly.
I think we're gonna make excellent progress
if you just put your trust in me.
I promise you...
You don't have a thing to fear
from Dr. Jonathan Crane.
What's this?
Unbeknownst to all present,
the Scarecrow stands unmasked in their midst.
A surgeon of the psyche.
What diabolical malpractice does he have in store
for Gotham's most famously fractured fiend?
The answers in the next excursion
out beyond life and death in Gotham City.
To be continued...
written and directed by Dennis McNicholas.
Batman created by Bob Kane with Bill Finger.
Based on characters from DC.
With performances by Jeffrey Wright,
Aristotle Athari, Ike Barinholtz,
Rosario Dawson, Steve Higgins,
Toby Huss, Gillian Jacobs,
John Leguizamo, Dennis McNicholas,
Tim Meadows, Seth Meyers,
Bobby Moynihan, Chris Parnell,
Katie Rich, Ben Rodgers,
Paul Scheer, Pete Schultz,
Brooke Shields, Brent Spiner,
Kenan Thompson, Alan Tudyk,
Bradley Whitford, Melissa Villaseñor,
Eli Brueggemann, Doug Bossi,
Ronjini Brown, Chris Gibney,
Julie Larson, Erica Phillips,
Rosie Phillips, Tony Phillips,
Zoey Phillips, Deirdre Quinn,
Robbie Wyckoff.
Executive producers, John Berg, Angela Petrella.
Produced by Dennis McNicholas.
Executives in charge of production,
Shaleen Desae, Peter Girardi.
Producer, Tyler Dorson.
Production services by Cast Media.
Producer, Colin Thompson.
Coordinating producer, DJ Lubel.
Music by Doug Bossi.
Sound recording, design, and mixing
by Big Yellow Duck.
Sound design, mixing, dialogue editing,
and rerecording mixing by Chris Gibney.
Dialogue editing and additional post-production
by Julie Larson.
Original songs by Doug Bossi and Tony Phillips.
The characters and events depicted
in this podcast are fictional.
Any similarity to any actual person
living or dead or to any actual events,
firms, places, and institutions or other entities
is coincidental and unintentional.
This podcast is protected under the laws
of the United States and other countries,
and its unauthorized duplication,
distribution, or exhibition
may result in civil liability and criminal prosecution.
Country of first publication, United States of America.
copyright 2022,
Warner Brothers Entertainment Incorporated.
Batman and all related characters and elements
are trademark and copyright DC.
All rights reserved.