Part Four

The police broke down the door leading into the home and immediately began to sweep through the house. Gordon followed in the rear and was greeted by the stench of rotting meat. It only took several minutes for the officers to secure the small but cozy home.

After the search had been completed without incident, Bullock approached Gordon who stared at an empty make-up kit on the couch. "The owners of the home are dead, gunshot wounds to the head. Napier is long gone. No sign of the girl."

"Damn it." Gordon exclaimed, exasperated, and stomped out through the front door.

Bullock stared at the kit for a moment before his eyes darted to a sharp object to the side; a rusted blade lay before him, its edge covered in blood.

Bruce descended into the cave with the moon hanging over him like the grim reaper urging him onto his inevitable doom.

Using a rope tied to a piece of machinery outside left behind from the now cancelled construction project he managed to lower himself onto the central platform. He turned the flashlight in his hands on and peered across the cave. The bats were gone apparently after moving on elsewhere. After a careful search of his immediate surroundings he spotted an entrance into the depths of the cave. Bruce loosened the rope and with a deep breath moved inwards leaving his lifeline behind.

He had been without a purpose, but now, something had changed, as he traveled deeper he felt the answers he had so long sought being answered and for the first time he did not want to die.

Bruce traversed a small cave tunnel with only his light as a guide and the sound of wings fluttering in the distance. He moved on for what seemed like miles, the caves were expansive and any sane man would have turned back for fear of getting lost, but he wouldn't.

He emerged into a new chamber, and with just a quick sweep of his light he was astounded. A massive peninsula of rock had formed in the center. Bruce moved across the naturally formed bridge and looked to the ceiling literally covered by bats.

They had give him purpose, revitalized his life. And with this glimpse into the dark abyss something clicked in Bruce's mind. He knew what had to be done.

The next morning Alfred walked into the study to make his usual rounds and run whatever errands needed doing. However, this day, he found Bruce sitting on the couch writing down notes onto several slips of paper, almost frantically.

"Master Wayne, you're not going to the office today?" Alfred asked a little surprised by this break in the almost flawless routine.

"No, there are more important things to be done. Alfred, come over here." Bruce exclaimed placing several slips of paper into a brown envelope. "I need you to take this to Lemon Design and Fabrics."

Alfred nodded and grabbed Bruce's envelop even as he was taking notice that one of the pieces of paper placed inside had seemed to contain sketches of some kind of figure.

"You must do this in person but do not give any identification and tell them you will return in six days to pick it up, they are to follow the instructions inside the envelope to the letter. Do not mention my name or open the package when you receive it." Bruce moved a picture aside and opened a safe, "Here; that should be enough to ensure they cooperate." He stated handing his butler several thousand dollars in cold hard cash, "That's a down payment for them. Inform them I will also pay an addition bonus upon completion."

"Sir, what is this all about?" Alfred inquired worriedly.

Bruce grimaced slowly, "Purpose."

Harvey Dent, the former district attorney, stared at his opponent arrogantly, "Well if Mr. Weeks would do what was necessary and give the Gotham Police Department the funding they need then Jack Napier wouldn't still be running through the streets killing whoever he pleases."

Weeks' retort was both clumsy and poor, and Dent loved every minute, especially with the cameras that were rolling. "How would you spend the budget then? Gotham is a city with many problems and handling all of them is a difficult task."

Dent laughed, "If you're having trouble dealing with Gotham then maybe its time to step aside for somebody who can." The election for Senator had heated up in recent days especially with the increasingly popular cry for social change that had been heard from nearly every corner of the city.

The press soaked it up and watched every misstep of Weeks with a predatory eye. After the debate finally ended, both candidates retreated to their various camps and after Dent socialized with his supporters and staff he left amidst the smiles and praise of the city citizens.

Opening the door to his nice and comfortable apartment Dent immediately entered the kitchen taking little notice of the presence hiding in the shadows. He grabbed a bottle of wine in celebration and with a big smile began to pour it into a glass.

"I hope you have one for me." The Joker said entering the kitchen. He was wearing a goofy purple tuxedo to go along with his freakish makeup.

Dent dropped the bottle on the floor and stumbled back in shock, "Jack? What are you doing here?"

"Me?" The Joker grinned, "Not much, I was going to ask for a sip but I see it's already gone to waste." He said pointing to the broken bottle at Harvey's feet.

Dent gulped and finished what wine was in his glass, "You know you shouldn't be here."

Joker grimaced, "Hey I thought we were friends. That's not very friendly; after all I've done for you." He laughed loudly holding his ace in the deck over Harvey's head, "Imagine what the people would think? If they found out their up and coming star and the boogieman of Gotham were both buddies. Especially since you've used me to hammer your political opponent so badly, it would make you look like a criminal. Wait, you are a criminal!"

"I haven't touched a soul!" Harvey exclaimed.

The Joker patted Dent on the back, "But you got me those explosives with your connections, didn't you? When I asked for them you were more than eager."

Harvey gulped, "Why are you here, Jack?"

"I need something else from you." Joker asked grimly.

"What?" Dent inquired, "If its more explosives, I can't, not without raising a red flag."

Joker shook his head, "No, of course not and besides I wouldn't try the same trick twice." He rubbed his hands together, the madness of his mind becoming ever more twisted.

Dent was now becoming frustrated, "Just get to the damned point."

"Screen time." The Joker exclaimed, "And lots of it.