"Who on earth could be crazy enough to be out at night?" muttered Harvey Dent, as he stormed to his front door in response to the loud, incessant knocking. "J, I might have known," he commented, as he opened it.

"All right, spill it, Harv!" snapped J, shoving his way inside. "Where do we find the Headless Batman?"

"I'm surprised you haven't found him already, wandering around outside at night like an idiot," retorted Dent.

"We found this letter, Mr. Dent," said Crane, holding up the piece of paper.

"And what letter is that?" asked Dent.

"It's a letter addressed to you from the Batman," replied Crane. "Dated twenty-five years ago."

"I'm aware of no such letter," replied Dent. "And why would the Batman be writing to me? I never met the man."

"Harvey, I think it's time you told the truth," murmured Ivy. "And stopped living this lie. For all our sakes."

Dent looked at her. "Pam," he murmured, taking her hand. "You know I can't…you were there…"

"Yes," she interrupted. "And if you won't tell them, I will. I'll tell them what you told me when you thought you were dying, the secret you made me swear to take with me to the grave. And I've kept that secret. But now the Headless Batman has taken Harley prisoner, and you're our only hope for finding them. You need to tell us all that you can about him, about your history with him. Please, if you care about me at all, tell them the truth."

Dent sat down, keeping hold of Ivy's hand. "The Batman…wasn't always like he is now," he murmured.

"What, dead and headless?" asked J, sarcastically. "You don't say."

"I mean the monster that he is now," retorted Dent, glaring at him. "He was my brother. Not literally, but as close as one. I came to these shores with him – I was a mercenary as well, but neither of us cared about the money particularly. We were engaging in this conflict on principle. We both believed in restoring order to a lawless and rebellious land. That was the perception we both had of the revolution – that the colonists were committing treason against the king they had sworn allegiance to, and had to be suppressed by any methods necessary. Only…once we arrived here…I began to see things a little differently. I thought we were on the side of righteousness and justice, but I saw only cruelty and hatred in our dealings with the rebels. It wasn't right, none of it was right. I couldn't get past it, but…the Batman could. He held his principles higher than he held the lives of his fellow humans, and he couldn't see the harm his ideals were inflicting, for in his mind it was all for a good cause. The violence of today would make for a brighter world tomorrow. The lives lost in the present would be worth it for his vision of the future coming true. Or that's what he claimed, but we all know the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I really think his actions weren't motivated by good intentions at all though – I think it was more about vengeance. It was all to teach the rebellious traitors a lesson for daring to disrupt order, for instigating chaos…he wanted them to pay for that."

Dent sighed. "I tried reasoning with him, but that only made him angry. He accused me of sympathizing with treason, of being a traitor myself. We fought bitterly. And then he…crossed a line. There was a battle not far from where the Van Tetch farm is now, near an old windmill. The wounded had been taken there, and Ivy and her mother were tending to them. The Batman broke in and…tried to kill them. He tried to kill everyone, including the woman and her child. I managed to stop him, but it was the last straw. I couldn't take it anymore, couldn't stand seeing the monster he had become. So I killed him."

He smiled wryly. "I let Nygma take credit for firing that cannon, the one that took the Batman's head clean off. But I was the one who did it, and had the shell explode in my face as a result. That's where Ivy and her mother found me. I thought I was dying from my wound, so I told Ivy the truth, as a kind of confession, I suppose. I wanted someone to know I had murdered my best friend. I had no idea he would come back to life – I had no idea he could. Such a thing seemed impossible. I've always assumed he came back to avenge himself on his murderer, and I suppose I should have come forward sooner letting people know it was me. But Nygma took the credit, and the Headless Batman didn't seem picky about who he killed, so I didn't know what good it would do to go public. Blackfire knew – I had confessed to him to purify my soul. But I remained silent otherwise. It was all very well, killing the Batman, but if people knew all, if they knew how I had betrayed my best friend, how I had stabbed him in the back, or more literally, shot him in the face…it didn't reflect well on me. I'm a respected figure in this town, known for meting out fair and equitable justice. My reputation would have suffered if people knew what I had done – that I had come here to murder traitors, and ended up becoming one myself."

"That's one way of looking at it," said Ivy. "It could also be argued that you did the right thing – you believed in something that was wrong, and realizing that, you changed your mind. There's no shame in that, Harvey."

"There is shame in betrayal," murmured Dent. "Batman became an evil, heartless man, but he was my friend. And I killed him. I never received any letter from him, though," he added, looking up at Crane. "He must never have delivered it to me."

"No, it was found…on his body," stammered Crane. "I suspect he died before he got the chance to give it to you. Probably for the best, as you already feel guilty for what you did…"

"What does it say?" interrupted Dent.

"Oh, go on, tell him!" chuckled J. "I wanna see the look on his face!"

Crane nodded slowly, and read the following:

Dear Harvey,

I have been considering what you said, the things we talked about, and the things we both believe in. We both fight for what we believe to be right, to reshape the world the way we want to see it. You told me that perhaps the colonists felt the same – perhaps they saw a vision for their future that was better than what the crown of England could provide. You said the colonists were men and women deciding their own destiny, and that it was not our place to cast judgment upon them. You said that subduing them was not worth the death and destruction, the horrors we have seen, and that to punish someone in this fashion was no longer justice, but vengeance.

I have reflected on this, at the scene in the windmill, and my behavior there, and I believe you are right. I have gone too far, been too consumed by my crusade that I have blinded myself to the true harm I am doing to people undeserving of it. I will return home, but I must ask for your forgiveness before I go. Meet me at the windmill on

Crane stopped. "It cuts off there," he said. "I suppose he was interrupted in the middle of writing it."

"But he didn't finish it, or send it to me," said Dent, quietly. "Why?"

"Maybe he changed his mind," said Crane. "Maybe he was interrupted from completing it, and whatever interrupted him hardened his heart again. Maybe he forgot about the letter, or was planning to destroy it after the battle, the evidence that he too betrayed his own cause…but then he died. And he was haunted by that letter, the letter that someone stole, someone who would know he betrayed himself…someone he had to kill, for the sake of his reputation, so they would never besmirch it with accusations of treachery."

"Why would the reputation of a dead man be more precious to him than his own head?" demanded Ivy.

"I don't know," retorted Crane. "But it is. He didn't care about retrieving his head, but he'll do anything to get this letter back. And I suspect more than that – I don't think he can risk anyone else knowing about this. And now we all know, so we'll all have to die."

"Well, he can try to kill me, but he's tried a lotta times before," retorted J. "But first we gotta find him. Any thoughts on where he might be hiding out, Harv?"

"No idea," replied Dent. "Don't the dead usually haunt places that were important to them in life? If that's the case, maybe he's at the old windmill. That's where he wanted to meet me twenty-five years ago, and that's where he had a change of heart, according to the letter."

"Ok, let's head out," said J, turning to leave. "Get it? Head out!" he chuckled. "I mean, I'm going to rescue Harley - you losers can stay here if you want."

"What if it's a trap?" demanded Dent.

"Of course it's a trap," retorted Crane. "And yet, I fear we must spring it. We must risk our lives to save Harley, and end the Headless Batman's reign of terror once and for all."