Part Two

Carmine Falcone "the Roman" sat on the terrace of his luxurious villa overlooking Gotham's suburbs. Dressed in a white tuxedo his hands he shook the martini in his hands, "My dear are you alright?"

His wife smiled taking a whiff of the smoke pouring out of the end of her cigarette, "Yes, it's just cold."

"Come here, then." Carmine urged, "I'll keep you warm." She complied finding comfort in his hold, "The city is quite beautiful at this time of night."

"It is."

With an expression full of caring he rested his chin against her head, "But not quite as exquisite as you."

She laughed, "You're a hopeless romantic, Carmine."

One of his bodyguards entered, "Pardon the interruption, sir, but Mr. Maxwell is here; he says it is urgent."

Carmine sighed, "If you'll excuse me, I have business to attend to." He left his wife alone to watch the view while he met Simon Maxwell, his most trusted Lieutenant, in the dining room. "Hello."

"Sir, I'm sorry to bother you." Simon said respectfully, "But I have news you'll be interested in."

"Yes?"

Simon raised his eyes ever so slightly, not making eye-contact with the Roman. "Our man at the Boss' night club has news."

"Really? What is our good friend, Maroni, up to?" Carmine asked casually.

"They have Batman."

---

Bruce had a nightmare. In it he ran down the alley where his parents were killed. He could hear the laughter of the gunman getting closer and closer. The skies bled red. His hands were dipped in the crimson stain.

He fell into the shadow and hid. But there came a light, his father was searching for him and Bruce was more than happy to run to him. As he came closer, Thomas Wayne pulled a weapon out of the large smoking wound in his chest and aimed.

"No!" Bruce roared, he turned away only to find the pistol's barrel in between his eyes. His father fired.

"Wait!" Bruce screamed breaking out from his slumber causing the guards to momentarily jump back in shock.

"Keep it down." One of them barked annoyed at the unwanted surprise.

Bruce groaned and momentarily struggled against his restraints and hesitantly laid back into the chair.

"Stay still you piece of trash!" His guards demanded training their weapons on him.

Trash, that's what he was? This man with barely a high school education had nailed his character down pact. Bruce grimaced and lowered his head in shame. Why had he done this? What had this brought him? He had killed men in cold blood. The Joker was right, they were the same.

---

Alfred watched the news reports on the television in his small but modest apartment. The headlines played across the screen without stop, each time slowly shoving him off of the cliff that he had perched himself on top of: Batman kills.

Folding his arms to hide his shivering fingers from his own sight, he closed his eyes in disgrace. Everything he had done for Master Wayne, his years and years of support, it had all been for naught. His father would have intervened the moment he suspected something.

The butler rocked his head back, reeling from the realization that he was not Bruce's father, tried as he had over the years to be. "I have done this to him." He looked at a picture of himself from many years ago with Bruce's parents: so many smiles, it had been such a beautiful day, such innocence. Alfred sighed loudly unable to contain his grief any longer, "I'm sorry, Thomas. I'm so sorry."

---

The mayor pushed his way through the barricades surrounded by personal bodyguards. "Commissioner, I want to have a word for you!" He roared ignoring Bullock as he attempted to intercept the statesman.

"This is just what I need." Gordon whispered quietly under his breath before breaking a smile and shaking hands with his boss. "Good to see you again."

"I wish I could say the feeling was mutual." The mayor replied dryly, "But every time I see you it only means things are worse. What is this I hear about you searching local homes?"

Gordon nodded, fully expecting this to be the topic of this unwelcome visit, "We're searching for Batman, he was apparently injured and we doubt he could have gotten very far."

The mayor frowned, "I don't want you acting like the Gestapo."

"Excuse me, but do you want Batman arrested?" Gordon asked to which the mayor nodded, "Then I'm going to have to leave no rock unturned in searching for him. I can promise you that my men are taking every precaution possible to ensure the safety of the public."

"There had better be no mess-ups, Gordon. Not with the election just around the corner. If you cost me, I will make sure your career crashes and burns! Got me?" He waited a moment while a deadly silence filled the air, "Got me?"

Gordon grimaced, he showed no fear, no signs of being intimidated, "I have a job to do." He declared leaving the mayor to attend to business.

---

Bruce could see his utility belt. They had casually placed it on a table less than a dozen feet from him. If he could get to it, a few well-placed smoke-bombs should procure him an easy escape.

But it wasn't as easy as just that. Maroni knew who he was and a man as cold and merciless as him would have no qualms about giving him up to the police. So what if he escaped? Would he kill the Boss? Would he kill? Could he kill?

The question was a loaded one, something that couldn't be answered with a definitive yes or no. Those officers' deaths were his fault; there was no disputing that, but how much farther did he want to go?

Whatever his decision would be it would have to be made quickly. There wasn't much time, Maroni would be back soon and if the crime boss didn't hear what he wanted to, Bruce would end up with a smoking hull in his skull.