2

Harleen Quinzel arrived home not too long after her conversation with Gordon. Looking around her dank old rotten apartment she could not help but feel a twinge of jealousy. It was Harvey Dent day and everyone around was jumping for joy about him, celebrating him; a man who had been DEAD for a year!

"Happy Birthday Harley," she sang to herself.

She had bought herself a cake which she was presently fetching from the cupboard. She lit some candles, humming to herself.

"Make a wish Harley," she said to herself before blowing the candles out.

She was half way through her second slice of cake when the phone began to ring. It wasn't a sound she was used to hearing and she walked over with caution before picking up.

"Hello? Harleen Quinzel speaking. Who is th…"

"You're presents in your office Harley," the voice on the other end of the line said. "Happy birthday Miss Quinzel."

That was it. The line rang off after that. Putting down the phone she thought over the words. Her office? At Arkham? Leaving the cake on the side she grabbed her coat, letting her inner child guide her. After all, wishes sometimes came true.


Harvey Bullock was enjoying the celebrations, particularly the drink, as he felt a presence at his side.

"Harvey, a word if you don't mind," the Mayor said.

"Oh, sure thing," Bullock responded, glugging back his drink.

"It's about Gordon," the Mayor murmured. "I shouldn't be telling you this but we are planning to drop him this Spring."

"What?" Bullock demanded.

"I know he's a friend of yours but listen Harvey, the Commisioner job, by Spring it's all yours."

"Sir, I…" Bullock began, unsure what to say. "That man's a hero."

"A war hero Harvey," the Mayor corrected. "It doesn't bode well to have a war hero running the place in peace time. Either way, I am lead to believe his health has taken a drop recently. The free time will do him good."

"It'll come as a shock to him Sir," Bullock replied.

The Mayor seemed to ignore him, treating the man as if he was happy at the news. "Congratulations Harvey," he said. "We may have another hero named Harvey yet."

Bullock couldn't find the words to respond until the Mayor had wondered away. But he had to talk with the Mayor. He wasn't going to let Gordon down.

"SIR!" he shouted.

But before the Mayor could answer the entire left side of a nearby building blew into a cascade of fire and ash, smoke billowing out into the crowd. A screaming crowd was consumed by ash and debris.


Gordon was loitering at the train station. Barbara would be there in at least ten minutes. He hadn't seen her for quite some time and there was a home coming party planned. She had only managed to get out of her work due to its being Harvey Dent day. This seemed a valid reason to be home with the family. Thank God they didn't know the truth about Dent. Suddenly Gordon's phone began to ring. It was Bullock.

"Harvey, what is it?" Gordon asked, still in an irritated state from having to give a complimentary speech about Dent.

"Gordon," the muffled voice of Bullock shouted, the screams and shouts of a crowd around him drowning out his words, "the entire left side of a building has been set alight. We need you here…"

"Wait, only the left side?" Gordon questioned.

"Yeah, the right sides fine from what I can see," Bullock responded. "Gordon, we need you down here…"

"On my way," Gordon replied.


Bruce Wayne was staring out of the window, out onto Gotham, Alfred striding into the room.

"What was that?" Alfred asked.

Bruce didn't reply. He didn't know. There had been an explosion, yes, but Alfred could work that out for himself. He turned from the window, sprinting to the remote of the TV, switching it on to the News. The breaking news was written in large, clear letters at the bottom of the screen: "ATTACK ON GOTHAM CITY". There were images of the destruction. Half of a building had been blown to bits. Then the screen flickered. The image was gone, replaced by a grey fuzz. Then there was a new voice, replacing that of the reporter.

"Gotham," a deep, muffled voice spoke, "heed my warning, this is only the beginning." Suddenly the shot of a man wearing a mask over his mouth flickered on to the screen. "Where is your knight now Gotham?"

Then the screen fell into black silence.


Harleen Quinzel was striding along the corridors of Arkham Asylum. These were the walls, she thought, that tomorrow she would begin work on a career changing case. People might just think twice about her once they saw what she was capable of. Because getting in to the mind of THAT patient was not a simple task. The bosses knew that. She thought of the praise she would get and a childish grin formed on her lips. She walked into her office, flicking on the lights. She expected someone was playing a trick on her-having a joke at her expense as they usually did. But she noted that there really was a present awaiting her on the desk, next to it an envelope and a bunch of flowers- red roses no less. Like a kid at Christmas at she ran over to the desk, tearing the envelope open.

"Hope you're looking forward to tomorrow as much as me pretty girl, J." it read.

She raised an eye brow with a momentary uncertainty before smiling. It was vital for a patient to get on with the psychologist and it looked as if this was a great start. That assuming "J" stood for what she thought it did. She sniffed at the roses before rereading the card. She really was looking forward to it now.