I try to work out the kinks in my back as I step on the elevator next to Abby.

"Rough night?" she asks, with a wink.

"You could say that," I reply. It wouldn't have been so bad, since I'm used to late nights. What I'm not used to is sleeping on the floor, but with Harley's broken arm, it seemed like the gentlemanly thing to do.

As the elevator door opens to the Major Crimes Unit, everyone, with the exceptions of Abby and I, rushes off in one direction. I notice the rest of the floor is nearly empty, with everyone crowding around one door.

"C'mon," Abby says, leaving the small box.

"What's going on?" I wonder aloud as I jog a few paces to catch up to her.

"Are you serious?" Abby asks. At my blank look, she continues. "Didn't you see the news last night? A truck full of weapons heading to the Joker was chased down by Batman."

We reach the horde trying to push into the small room. I can barely see over any heads, and Abby is dwarfed.

"I'll never see anything from back here," she moans.

"Everyone nonessential, back to your desks," a voice cuts through the din from the centre of the crowd. I identify it as Commissioner Gordon's. "If you need to be here, you know who you are."

I hear a few more groans, including another from Abby, as most of the mob disperses. I turn around to walk away and a black mass hits my shoulder, brushing me aside. My eyes follow the Batman as the rest of the crowd parts in front of him.

As I walk back to my desk, I wonder if the Batman has taken off his mask and armour since I heard him beating up Oswald's guards. Doesn't he have a day job?

The briefing quickly devolves into an argument. Bullock started defending his decision to cut off the trucks as soon as the door closed, and Gordon has been arguing on my behalf that now we've lost our biggest lead on the Joker.

"What would you have had me do?" Bullock demands. "Have my guys split up and follow every truck?"

"You were given more than enough cruisers to do so," Gordon points out firmly.

"You could have waited for them to separate," I interject. "I could have let you know which one was the right one."

"Well lah-di-dah." Bullock turns toward me. "And how was I supposed to know you could do that?" he asks, jabbing his finger at me.

"I told you when the truck started moving and where to head it off, didn't I?"

Bullock stops. He doesn't have a good response to this. "Look, all I knew was that there was a truck that could supply an army heading to the Joker," he says, changing tactics. "I did what I had to do to make sure it didn't get there."

"We could have found the Joker last night," Gordon barks. "He could be sitting in his cell in Arkham right now, instead of out there," he gestures to the map of Gotham, "still planning God-knows-what!"

"Yeah, or he could've sent someone else to pick up the truck so he could make sure it wasn't followed, like the driver already told us!" Bullock bellows back, before apparently realizing he's trying to shout down his superior and quiets. "The Joker was tipped off. We didn't have a shot last night."

"We didn't know that," I growl.

"No, we didn't," Gordon says, turning and shaking his head. "On top of that, you disobeyed direct orders."

"But now we have a baker's dozen of scumbags, sitting in lock-up, waiting to sing like little canaries," Bullock cuts in, trying to continue his rant.

"Which is the only reason you're not suspended right now," Gordon states.

The room goes quiet in response. Bullock's fists clench in anger. No one other than Gordon dares make eye contact, having just heard something they know should be private.

Finally Gordon breaks the silence, addressing the entire room. "Our best lead right now is Bullock's baker's dozen. I want you all looking into their records. Find someone close to them, someone who might know where they've been spending all their time." He nods, and everyone takes it as their signal to start filing out of the room. Gordon focuses back on Bullock. "You'll be interviewing them," he tells Bullock. "Don't come back to me until you have something."

Bullock slinks out of the room.

"You think any of them'll talk?" Gordon asks me once the room is empty.

"Some of them will want to," I admit, "but I don't think any of them will know anything useful. The Joker will have made sure of that."

At this point, I'm used to slews of people randomly running by my desk, off to another emergency. Emergencies are constant in Gotham.

Each time I try to listen as officers rush by, hoping to learn something that will intrigue me, or help me to find someone I'd like to meet. Both the Miami Metro and Gotham City Police Departments would be embarrassed by the number of people who've ended up strapped to one of my tables just because their officers weren't too careful about case-related information.

This time though, I hear something that sets me on edge, and makes me glad it's nearly the end of the day. As a trio of uniforms breezes past me, I hear "amber alert" and "Hatter".

I know it's a bad idea, and normally I hate getting roped into helping someone move, but right now I'm glad I agreed to help Harley.

I glance over at the clock next to my bed. It's six in the evening.

After the briefing at the GCPD building, I returned to Wayne Manor, finally peeled off my armour, caked with the sweat of a long night, and collapsed into bed. It looks like I've slept for most of the day, but that's alright; I get my best work done at night.

I roll over and switch on the plasma screen TV hung on the wall across from me. GNN, the Gotham News Network, comes on immediately. It's all I ever watch.

"-and now speculation is arising that the Batman himself may be responsible," a blonde, female news anchor says, a graphic picture of Zsasz's head that someone managed to slip past crime scene tape to take inserted to the right of her head. The picture quickly zips off-screen. "In other news, a police operation almost ended in tragedy last night. We go now live to Dan Wentworth on the scene. Dan?"

"Thanks Diane," a young, black reporter in a suit, his head shaven, says as the feed switches. He's out on the street, near the spot where I sliced the tires of the truck carrying the Joker's weapons. "Last night, this street was the setting for a massive accident, as a semi-truck rolled over onto several cars, injuring three, including six-year-old Lisa Brookeridge. Witnesses on the scene say that they saw a black vehicle driven by the Batman, popularly known as the Bat-mobile, destroy the tires of the truck, causing this accident."

There's a knock at the door of my bedroom. I hit mute.

"Come in," I call out.

The door opens to reveal Alfred. "Ah, Master Wayne, you're awake." Alfred glances at the TV. I can tell from his expression that he instantly knows what this report is about. "I hope you're not paying any attention to this crass sensationalism."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good," he says with a nod. "Now, I have dinner prepared. If you wish, I can bring some up for you."

"That won't be necessary, Alfred," I step out of bed, grabbing a robe. My stomach is demanding food, but I'm barely paying attention as I try to plan my next move. I'm not going to deal with Quinn tonight. She may be my best lead in two separate cases, but I won't get anywhere by trying to search Gotham for her. I'll put the word out that I'm looking for her and get Oracle to update me on any sightings and see if anything comes up.

I can only hope she decides to wear her extremely conspicuous costume soon.

As I start to lead the room, I see the news change out of the corner of my eye. I turn the sound back on.

"-city-wide amber alert is in effect, as eight-year-old Cady Williams and her older brother, nine-year-old Jonah, have gone missing. They were last seen waiting for their mother to pick them up outside their school. Some witnesses have reported seeing Jervis Tetch, also known as the Mad Hatter, in the area, but his involvement has not been confirmed."

I turn off the TV. "I'm sorry to skip another meal," I announce to Alfred, "but I need to find those kids."

"With all due respect, sir, you'll be more useful to those children with a full stomach," Alfred points out. "I'll bring something downstairs for you."

"Thank you, Alfred."

I've been trying to vary where I buy the reams of plastic sheeting I use, but I don't think the teenager working the cash register, his eyes blood-shot with prominent veins, was too interested, even though I bought enough to last me until I leave Gotham. Still, I leave the supplies in my car as I leave it parked just outside my motel room, and head inside to get everything else I need.

I look around as I enter. I don't see Harley, but the door to the bathroom is closed and I can hear movement behind it. I put down the bag I have slung over my shoulder than contains the kit I need to examine crime scenes, and grab another, similar bag from the closet. It's already filled with dozens of different blades for all possible needs, as well as a syringe and small bottle of M-99.

I take out the syringe and push the needle through the rubber stopper on the top of the bottle, preparing the dose for my encounter with Jervis. I'm sure I had more tranquilizer than this, and as I watch the amount of tranquilizer decrease, I wonder if I'll have enough to last me until I leave Gotham. I don't have a way to buy any more until I get back to Miami.

I briefly consider asking Deb to Fedex me the spare bottle in my apartment. I don't think that would go over well.

I slip the syringe back into its outside pocket of the bag and sling it over my shoulder as I hear the bathroom door open behind me. I turn to see if Harley is ready to go and do a double-take.

Harley is wearing a skin-tight black and red leotard, with ruffs around her neck and wrists, her face covered in white make-up with black lipstick, and a black mask that does nothing to hide her identity, all topped with a jester hat. Subtle.

"You're not wearing that," I state bluntly.

"I beg to diffah," she grins.

"I'm not doing this if you're wearing that."

"Alright," she shrugs. "I don't mind stayin' in."

We stand there, trying to stare each other down, for a full ten seconds. She looks like she's perfectly fine with waiting until tomorrow, but I know that each second is crucial, since Jervis just kidnapped two new playmates. That, and I really want to kill him.

"Fine," I sigh, "but you have to stay out of sight."

Harley bounces up and down a few times before skipping out to the car. This is a terrible idea.

It's dark by the time I have my armour on and race out of the secret entrance of the Bat-cave, hidden deep in the woods behind Wayne Manor. I press a few buttons on the dashboard, and a secure communications channel with Oracle is opened.

"Oracle," I say, "do you have any information on Tetch's location?"

"I'm sending you the address of the school the Williams children were taken from," she responds, "and I'm looking into the ownership of the houses nearby, but Bruce?" she continues, "everything checks out so far. If Mad Hatter is hiding more than a few blocks away-"

"I know Oracle." If Tetch made sure to kidnap the children far from where he's actually staying, he'll be difficult to find. "Just update me if you find anything."

"I'll try my best," she says, and the line goes dead.

I speed towards the school, hoping a thorough search of the area will lead me to those children before it's too late.