Before the Scarecrow could even react, the stranger had completely lost all of his cordial appearance, snapping menacingly as he took offense to what had been said about his being either a robot or brainwashed. Stunned, the Scarecrow failed to react quickly enough as the man lunged toward them- he found his hand grabbed. What came next was even more of a shock.

First was a painful sensation (and he was sure it was pain this time), then his right arm burst into flames. Fire! But how? He was fairly sure that human bodies didn't burn the same way one made of straw would, but there really wasn't time to dwell on it when the blaze was crawling along his lower arm. It was one thing to be unfeeling, knowing his body was burning but only because he saw it doing so; it was something else- something far more terrifying- to be able to feel the flames eating through him.

After that, there was unbridled panic. "I'm on fire!" the Scarecrow shouted, pulling away from the conjurer as he flailed. "Help, I'm on fire!"