Bruce finished pulling on his mask and surveyed his equipment carefully. Despite still being in his cave, he could feel his heart tremble in anticipation of the coming events. Tonight, even if he had to haul it tooth by tooth out of those henchmen minions, he would finally gain the current location of the Joker. He settled into his car, took a deep breath and allowed the engine to roar into existence. He couldn't help but smile as the vibrations shook the impressive vehicle, the power beneath his fingertips waiting with bated breath for the command to lurch forward. He ran through the steps of his plan once more before allowing the vehicle to leap through the hidden exit and onto tarmac road. He sped up, urging the tumbler onwards in its greedy assault on the road. For three long weeks he had prepared for this night, he didn't have the luxury of being late.

Ten minutes later he had stealthy maneuvered the famous vehicle through the back streets of Gotham, arriving at his destination undetected. He turned the engine off and adjusted the radio, allowing it to interpret the secret conversations of the above building. Saoirse was having an important meeting with the Commissioner concerning her sting operation which he greatly disagreed with. Yet it was beyond his power to extract her from such perilous circumstances, Saoirse herself had made that crystal clear upon accepting this ridiculous mission. Despite being one of the most cool-headed and logical people he knew, she was completely irrational where her sister was concerned.

His attention snapped back to his radio when the Commissioner's tired voice floated across the air waves. 'How's the relationship going with Junior?'

'Better than expected.' Saoirse responded, her voice sounding forced.

'Now, you called me here saying you had some important information concerning the Joker. He's been a ghost for weeks which is disconcertingly out of character for him. It sets my teeth on edge knowing he's out there, waiting to strike… Do you know where he is?'

'Not where he is right now... but I can tell you where he'll be tomorrow.' Bruce sat up in the car and quickly adjusted the dials on the radio. How Saoirse had managed to extract such valuable information from that idiot was simply beyond him. Who would tell that Junior moron anything in the first place? He took a deep breath and adjusted his mask. He needed to keep his emotions under control; Saoirse had left him for this investigation in order to protect her sister... He would have to accept that and make sure his emotions didn't distract him throughout the rest of the night. After reigning in his jealousy, he settled down to listen once more.

'Where?'

'In the Narrows, the abandoned warehouse where I was held hostage. There's a deal going down tomorrow between my father's mob and what's left of the criminal world in Gotham which will be headed by the Joker. It's to do with the drug I told you about.'

'Cerulean?'

'That's the one.'

'Saoirse, this is it! The break we've finally been waiting for! If your father is caught tomorrow along with all his cronies and the Joker... this entire investigation will have been a success! This mess... it'll all be over.'

'Junior wants me to be there.'

'Well then, I'm afraid you'll have to go. We can't afford for you to be cast in any suspicion... not now when we're so close to the end. What time is the deal going down at?'

'10am.'

'They're doing it in the daytime to try and avoid Batman. But unlike him, the Police aren't nocturnal.' A small smile pulled at Bruce's lips.

'So tomorrow? It all ends tomorrow?' Saoirse's voice whispered, unable to believe what she was hearing.

'Tomorrow.' The Commissioner confirmed. Bruce twisted a dial and the illegal eaves-dropping device was silenced. He spent a moment re-adjusting his plan to cope with the new update before the Tumbler whisked him down a deserted alleyway towards the Narrows. It took some time for him to locate Saoirse's former warehouse, the one where her free-will had been horrendously decimated in those animal cages. After pulling up in front of the gloomy building he swiftly exited the vehicle and inspected his surroundings: all was quiet. He cautiously approached the warehouse and quickly found the backdoor he had entered undetected through last time. Inky blackness which would strike fear into most men's hearts greeted him like an old friend. There was nothing to fear from the darkness, it was only the terror of the unknown lying beneath the darkness' invisible cloak which made most afraid.

The cloak dangerously slashed the air behind him as he ventured into the depths of the warehouse, listening for any sound of inhabitants hiding in its shadow. He had circled the dark heart of the cavernous room twice before determining no-one was home. He switched off his night-time vision goggles and set about planting some hidden camera and audio devices. They may prove the difference between the freedom or imprisonment of Michael Conlon. He strode purposefully around the warehouse now, comfortable he was alone. Yet it was after he'd cleverly concealed one of the last cameras when he heard the clumsy footsteps outside. He ignored the instinct to freeze and hurriedly concealed himself behind a cage. Just as he became indistinguishable from his surroundings, the lights flicked on, chasing the shadows into the furthest recesses of the warehouse. Eight men shuffled clumsily into the room and Bruce's blood pounded when he recognized his face-painted foe leading the charge. He restrained the battle cry dying to be released from his throat and subdued the revenge which reared its ugly head, demanding justice for Rachel's death. He cleared his mind and focused on the best form of action… it seemed he would have to escape undetected from this warehouse. If he didn't, all plans concerning the Police's conclusion to its sting operation tomorrow would be ruined.

He surveyed his surroundings and placed his bet on a shattered window some fifteen feet from his hiding place. The shadows were thick around the window but there was an unnervingly bright ray of light slicing through the darkness. It meant he would have to risk revealing himself as he careered towards this emergency exit. He slowed his breathing and was checking to see if the coast was clear before dashing out of the warehouse when he saw something which made him freeze. He shook himself from his static position and stealthy approached the very men he had been trying to escape from. Upon closer inspection, Bruce realized with mounting alarm that his initial suspicion had been correct. The guard which the Joker had kidnapped from Gotham's Museum of Art some three weeks ago was bound and gagged in one of the animal cages.

'No, no, no, no, no. This simply isn't acceptable! My lips have to be painted red not purple.' The Joker said, holding a tin of purple face paint in his palm. He dipped his thumb into the sticky substance and placed a thumbprint on his trembling henchmen's forehead.

'I-I'm so s-sorry –'

'Sorry? You're sorry? Well I suppose that makes it alright then.' He wiped the paint on his jacket before yanking a gun from his pocket and placing a bullet between his minion's eyes. The purple thumbprint was quickly lost in the mini-tsunami of blood which oozed from the collapsed corpse. Everyone stopped working for a moment and stared at their leader with fearful eyes. 'Well? What are you waiting for? Will one of you fine gentleman fetch me some red paint! And if I were you, I wouldn't come back with the wrong colour unless… well…you want to end up like your friend here.' He gestured casually to the dead body. The youngest of the mentally unstable quickly headed towards the exit, completely ignoring his fallen comrade as he stepped around the pool of blood. The Joker approached his hostage's cage and tapped on the rusted bars with the barrel of his gun. After striking the bars thirteen times, he leaned forwards and carelessly threw the gun away. 'Hi Barnaby. How you doin' in there? Feeling a little left out? How about I come in there and we have a little chat.' Bruce adjusted his position and silently switched places with the adjacent cage so he was directly behind the hostage's one. The fabric concealing his presence was thin; he could hear Barnaby's distressed breathing. 'Now, I'm going to let you in on a little secret Barnaby. It's to do with the whole war-paint thing I've got going on. Frankly everyone's at a loss as to how the red stays so perfectly on my lips and scars, it takes a lot for it to rub off.' After some shuffling around, he finally sat on what sounded like an upturned bucket. 'You see… it's all about balance. I use red paint but it doesn't have the right… feel to it, you know? It lacks… what's the word I'm looking for… character! So what I do is very simple; I take the red paint and I apply a little bit of a twist to the liquid by adding some of my own favourite red liquid. Do you know what that might be Barnaby?' Bruce could hear him shaking his head. 'Guess.' The Joker hissed.

'Cranberry juice?' Barnaby asked hopefully, his reply receiving howls of maniacal laughter from the Joker.

'Cranberry juice? Oh Barnaby… not the sharpest weapon in the drawer I'm afraid. But not to worry, I've got a knife that will slice open your jugular as if it were made of butter. And when your blood is oozing from that clean cut, you'll have the honour of knowing it was your blood which I used to highlight my scars.' Barnaby let loose a muffled yelp. 'Oh… you look scared Barnaby. But you don't have to be afraid of me… I'm not going to hurt you… no, no, no Barnaby, I'm only going to kill you.' Another moan of anguish. 'Hey… shush shush shush shush! You're a stand-up guy Barnaby; I mean really, even with a name like Barnaby, you manage to pull it off. And that's why I'm going to make your death nice and quick. After all, what are friends for?'

Bruce had had enough. He climbed gingerly onto the roof of the cage and before the Joker's minions had time to look up, he was already bearing down upon them, his bat wings melting into the surrounding darkness. He landed correctly and had quickly despatched of the remaining six escaped convicts before quickly rising. He turned slowly and faced the cage where the Joker was eagerly pressing a knife against Barnaby's neck. 'Oh good, you made it. I wasn't sure which address to send the invite to. Though I must admit, you are a little early. The party doesn't start until 10am tomorrow. Now I know you prefer night-time and I tried to get the new uptight boss to change it, but he was too busy being the alpha male to hear me out.'

'Let him go, this is between you and me.'

'You see, that's where you were always wrong… it was never just between you and me, it was always you trying to distract me from fighting with your precious city.'

'Let him go or I'll behead you.'

'Beheading someone who's twenty feet away and behind bars of steel is even a little out of your league.

'I wouldn't be so sure.' Bruce unhooked Baudelaire's laser device and aimed it at the cage. The red beam easily traversed the distance separating him from the cage and passed through the steel bars as if they were made of cotton candy. 'If it has such an effect on steel, imagine what it'll do to your flesh.' Bruce growled.

'You with your finicky gadgets, always trying to disrupt our fun.' The Joker muttered as he roughly shoved Barnaby to the ground. He unlocked the cage door and stood grinning before his cloaked enemy. 'I can tell you're fighting with all your emotions… and I know you missed having me around. I mean, with only cold asses such as that Irish brat Conlon running things, you must be pretty bored.' Barnaby scrambled out of the cage and pelted towards the exit, his running almost comical due to his bound wrists. Bruce's gaze never left the Joker; he was the most unpredictable foe he had ever come into contact with, easily making him the most dangerous.

'What are you going to do with all this Cerulean?' Bruce asked.

'Redecorate the city, Gotham looks so glum at this time of year, some blue powder should create a lovely atmosphere.'

'Tell me.' Bruce growled, sweeping forwards and lifting the Joker off his feet.

'You should know from the last time we shared an interrogation room that unlike the other cowards in the rest of your precious city, I'm not afraid of your strength. You know as well as I that you have nothing to threaten me with.' Bruce threw him to the ground and stepped backwards, trying to re-gain control of his emotions. The Joker peered up from his crouched position, his lips pursed in confusion. 'You're not going to do it, are you?' He asked.

'Do what?'

'Kill me.'

'I will never lower myself to your level.'

The Joker propped himself up onto his elbow. 'You still have your one rule, don't you? The one which separates you from the mob bosses you play cops and robbers with.' He gingerly sat up. 'How many times do I have to tell you, you're not one of them.'

'One of what?' Bruce asked, his temper slowly cooling.

'An enforcer of the law… part of the justice team. You see, a guy like you could never have joined the police academy, gone through the corrupted motions until you eventually wrestled power from some donut-loving fool sitting behind a desk. No, no, no. That wasn't enough to satisfy your vision for Gotham… not to mention your love of violence.'

'I don't have to justify myself to you.'

'Well if not to me, then who? No-one in this city understands you like I do. You're only trying to obey your most natural carnal instinct. You see these people you hunt, or criminals as you brand them, they were defected from birth, polluted by the corruption of this city. If natural selection had its way these men would be dead. But unfortunately for the likes of you and me, our race has managed to pull the wool over mother-nature's eyes leaving it up to us to restore the balance. We're like ark angels from Darwin, here to ensure the survival of the fittest.' Bruce grabbed the Joker and upended him onto one of the surrounding steel tables. He allowed his resolve to weaken and swiped the Joker with an old-fashioned one/two combination. The joker crumpled beneath the blows but continued to laugh maniacally. 'Oh no, don't stop now. Just give in, keep hitting me; allow your strength to spirit your anger away! I know you've got it in you; I can see your "noble intentions" trying to hold him back. Come on, don't be shy, I want to meet your darker side, he's always just below the surface when I'm around.' He crawled to his feet and made a show of fixing his hair. 'Come on, we're in a deserted warehouse! Who's going to see you rip my head off and dance over my bleeding body? You know… maybe if you stop fighting with yourself you can actually escape the loneliness which plagues your entire existence.'

'It's not me who's lost in solitude. You're alone because all you have is darkness. You try to bring everyone down to your level in order to prove that you aren't a blemish on the entire human race.'

'Preach all you want, but all these noble intentions aren't going to beat me or allow this city to accept you.'

'I'm tired of your madness Joker; it's time for you to go back to the nuthouse.'

'Back to Arkham? Oh, you really wouldn't think I'd go back there now would you?'

'I suppose I'll have to employ some force in order to ensure your co-operation.'

'Now you sound like a cop!' Bruce stood before the Joker, wondering why such a destructive beast had come into his life once again. Did someone like this deserve to live? Was it justice that he survived with all the innocent blood on his hands?

'Hands out.'

'You think I'm going to come quietly? Me?'

'If you've forgotten, I'd take some satisfaction in reminding you how our last fist-fight ended.'

'Exchanging blows is of no interest to me, where's the fun? The excitement? You can't kill me then and you won't kill me now. I must say I am disappointed, it's clear to me that you haven't grown at all… Yet I suppose that's only to be expected seeing as you lacked your ideal opponent: me.'

'Let's go.' Bruce said after disarming the Joker and quickly cuffing his wrists.

'Ah, ah, ah. I don't think so.'

'You don't have a choice.'

'Don't you understand? When I say I'm not going back to Arkham… I mean it. You think I'd let you just chaperone me away without the tiniest hint of a fight? BOYS! PAPA'S GOT A PROBLEM HE NEEDS FIXING!' He suddenly roared. That's when Bruce heard it, the pounding of feet outside, the rest of the mad henchmen the Joker had freed from Arkham. He wrenched open a nearby cage, stuffed the Joker inside and locked it. Instead of hiding in the shadows as would be his usual plan, he sprinted for the entrance, looking to meet the confused men in a head-on collision. The door was flung open and soon Bruce was losing count of how many henchmen he'd knocked unconscious. Another few bodies collapsed when he turned to deal with the men behind. Six machine guns were aimed at him, enough gun-power to kill him even with his armour. For a split second no-one moved. It gave Bruce just enough time to activate Saoirse's device before the men opened fire. After thirty seconds of deafening gunshots, the men stopped shooting and stared at Bruce in amazement. He couldn't help but smile, they all had pretty good aim, it seemed ridiculous that out of the volley of bullets which had been released in his general direction; not one had hit him. He looked at the wall behind him to see the bullets concentrated to certain points, bending to the will of the powerful magnetic field. He turned to see the men drop their guns and try to flee. He caught them all before they'd made it halfway across the warehouse and threw their unconscious bodies beside the earlier dispatched ones. He slowly returned to the Joker's cage and leaned casually against the bars.

'Time to go.' He growled once again. The Joker fixed him with a loathsome look before reluctantly leaving the cage.

'You know, maybe we could share a cell this time, I bet your head would fascinate the "doctors" in Arkham.' They were almost at the entrance to the warehouse, Bruce keeping an eye out for any other intruders. As they opened the door all was still and silent in the inky black night. Bruce made a start towards the Tumbler, wondering if he should knock the Joker out before driving him to the station.

'SURPRISE!' Bellowed a voice. Before Bruce had time to react, a figure was hurtling towards them from the roof, falling at a high speed which meant he didn't have time to move out of the way. The figure walloped him to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs and badly bruising his back. Just as he tried to stumble to his feet, the Joker took off at an impressive speed for someone who was cuffed. Amazingly, the suicidal figure was back on his feet and was observing Bruce with hateful eyes. It was the youth who had left to buy the red face paint earlier. Bruce saw what looked like a grenade in one of his hands and did his best to dive out of the way as its pin was already removed. A massive explosion shook the ground but it was not the type of power which tore people limb from limb. As he lay stunned on his back, he noticed the surrounding air was permeated with electric blue particles, like dust. He couldn't use his hand to cover his mouth from inhaling the toxic hallucinogen and soon felt the drug enter his body. His vision blurred and he tried to close his eyes to stop seeing things which he knew weren't real.

Saoirse was still driving. She should have been home hours ago but the tantalizing fact that all of her misery could be finished tomorrow was something which kept her restless. After circling Gotham's safer roads, she finally gave in and looped onto a narrow alley, heading for the Narrows. She locked her doors and made sure to keep up a constant speed, regardless of what colour the traffic light said. After twenty minutes of tense driving, she found herself on a deserted road leading to the warehouses she had been kept prisoner in some time ago. She pushed the accelerator down and promised she would sweep around the industrial estate once before going home. It was stupid that she was doing this in the first place; she didn't want to get caught by anyone.

The car purred onwards and as she approached the warehouses, she turned off her lights and managed to navigate her way around the warehouses by the dawn's weak light. After some time re-tracing her steps, she found the correct storage unit. She paused in front of it for a moment, looking to take in the calm before the storm. Just as she was about to leave the deserted place, she noticed something from the corner of her eye. Something blue. Against her better instinct, she unlocked the car door, took out the gun Junior had given her and approached the building. The entrance was flung open and there were two bodies lying in a pool of blue powder in its wake. Saoirse bent down and scooped some of the powder onto her fingertips. There was no doubting what it was. She flicked the powder away and stepped over one of the still bodies, looking to seek answers to what had happened here. She continued onwards and was about to go around the other body when she noticed it was clad in strange clothing. She squinted in the poor light and terror gripped her when she recognized the armour.

'B-Batman?' She stuttered incredulously. She dropped to her knees and placed her ear against his mouth, praying for him to be breathing. Relief flooded her heart when his raspy breath registered and she immediately went into action. Any scene where Batman was lying unconscious in a pool of cerulean was not one to hang around in. She ran back to her car, brought it as close to the pool as she could and began the difficult process of dragging Batman's body into her backseat. She couldn't leave him there, not after everything he'd done for her and Gotham.

A tense few minutes later, she was out of the warehouse and speeding down a motorway, her mind buzzing with questions. Her main aim was to put as much distance between her and those warehouses as was possible and as the miles continued to peel by, she realised she had no idea what her next step should be. She couldn't take him home, trying to drag his unconscious body up three flights of stairs was out of the question, she couldn't take him to the Applied Science department; the security was out of her control until she was in the department itself. Perhaps the station? But what would they do with an unconscious Batman? Put him in the infirmary, patch him up and let him go home without having to take his mask off? No… the best thing she could do for the moment would be to drive and hope he would wake up before she had to return to the warehouse in a few hours.

Around two hours later, Saoirse had paused on a deserted road some five miles from the cities centre. She craned her head around for the hundredth time to peer at the sleeping legend, being able to take note of many characteristics she had never had the time to notice before. His armour for one, was incredibly sophisticated. This had escaped her in the past due to the material being cloaked almost constantly in shadow. And his cloak was immobile for now yet she knew it could easily support his weight in flight.

Yet despite the fancy equipment, it was the face which still captured her attention. The sharp eyes were closed and the jaw was relaxed. Even under such unusual circumstances, she couldn't begin to fathom who it was which hid beneath the mask. Curiosity was burning… she could feel it implore every fibre in her body to discover the greatest mystery of Gotham: the identity of the Batman. She found her fingers extending towards the ferocious-looking mask, her hand inching its way closer to the seam which separated it from the rest of the suit. It was a mere inch away from unveiling the face of Gotham's guardian when she paused. She relinquished her grasp and settled on placing her hand on his shoulder. 'You keep your identity Batman. I don't want your privacy to be breached in the same way mine was.' She withdrew to the front of the car, opened the door and sat on its bonnet, horrified by the atrocious action she'd almost committed. Looking to distract herself, she decided to watch the sun rise over the glittering towers of Gotham and forced herself to think on hat the new day would bring. Sometime later, she returned to the driver's seat where she allowed herself to stretch contently. She turned to check on her slumbering passenger and nearly jumped a foot when she saw his open eyes. 'You're awake.' Was all she could manage. He slowly rose and held his masked face between his hands as if he were suffering from a sickening headache. Which he was.

'How did I get here?'

'Coincidence. I was in the wrong place at the right time.'

'You were at the warehouses?'

'Exactly.'

'How long was I out?'

'Few hours… honestly I'm amazed. I was out for two days when I came into contact with that stuff.'

'It must be less potent if ingested orally.' Batman muttered.

'Maybe… oh and eh…' His gaze flicked back to hers. 'Your mask… I didn't touch it when you were asleep. So I still don't have any idea who you are.'

'I'm aware.'

'But how –'

'Because if you did remove my mask, you would be unconscious in a puddle of your own vomit due to the electric shock you'd have received.'

'Oh.' His eyes flicked to the clock on the dashboard and he immediately forced himself into a properly seated position.

'I need to pick up my car.'

'Where is it?'

'About a quarter mile from the warehouses.'

'Fine, sit back, relax and we'll get it.'

'It's too dangerous -' Saoirse turned around and fixed her gaze unflinchingly on him.

'Stop with such nonsense, I have no time for it. Lie down so no-one will see you and we'll retrieve possibly the greatest vehicle in the world. End of story.' Saoirse turned on the engine, turned the car a hundred and eighty degrees and headed back towards the one place she really didn't want to return to.

The Joker stooped over the now dead body of his fallen comrade. He plucked the red face-paint from his pocket and tutted at the empty space where Batman had originally fallen. His feet crunched through the blue powder and after entering through the abandoned door, he flicked on the lights inside the warehouse. He had seen something quite interesting while locked for that small amount of time in a cage and proceeded over to where his interest had been piqued. It was the wall adjacent to where Batman had miraculously avoided six machine gun rounds of fire. He peered inside a crevice in the old wall and after rummaging around for a moment, he withdrew a wire with a small lens on the side.

'Well, well, well. What have we here?'