A/N: Sorry for posting a bit later than usual, I was going through a time change. This chapter is a pivotal one. Thank you to everyone who stuck with this until this point, you guys are just absolutely awesome!

Heath thoughtfully observed the business people walking up and down beside him.

"Bitchell sits on the second floor," Nicky quietly explained. The two men were sitting on the steps of the Gotham Court building. Advocates, procurators, attorney, and judiciaries walked past them, only some of them shooting the guys a scolding look. Heath tossed away the cigarette and stood up.

"Great. You'll show me."

"I can't. The court knows me," Nicky looked horrified. "They scanned me two years ago."

"Really?" Heath raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"Vindicated, but..."

"Perfect. Then you have nothing to fear." Heath took Nicky by the shoulders and gave him a slight push.

The building looked even more glorious from the inside. Heath smirked. How ironic.

"To the right," Nicky whispered, frantic eyes darting back and forth. Heath obediently turned. They passed two large doors, cramped with media reporters and two blank faced policemen.

"What's going on?" Heath quietly asked, eyeing the commotion.

"Hearing," Nicky responded. His pallor face lit up.

"That means Mitchell's office is free for the moment." Heath wordlessly ran up the wide staircase. The second floor was made up of offices of various lawyers. It was mostly empty. A young woman in a brown suit with a folder in her hand quickly passed them, shooting them a wary look.

"That's the new DA," Nicky explained in a hushed town as soon as the woman disappeared.

"A significant opposition to us."

"Us you mean by criminals?" Heath specified, eyes traveling from one office label to another.

"Of course."

Heath smirked and came to a halt.

"Stop. We arrived." The label Judge W. Mitchell glimmered back at him. Heath didn't even try the knob. Instead, he squatted down and took out the punk's knife. Carefully inserting it into the key hole, Heath turned the blade. The knob gave a nice click. Heath lightly pushed the door with his hand. It swiftly swooshed. Heath looked back at Nicky and smirked.

"After you." Nicky bit his lip. Heath chuckled and, standing up, entered the cabinet. It was spacious, decorated in dark wood, with a closet and a working desk. Heath whistled.

"Why exactly do I need to tell him to resign?" Heath turned over the cases on the table. Nicky cautiously looked around and closed the door.

"Um, it's something to do about Falcone's client," Nicky pinched his forehead.

"Something about exposing someone who the client distastes..." Nicky shook his head.

"It's confusing. I didn't really understand it. Falcone did not want to go into detail." Heath's eyebrows creased. Thoughtfully taking out the knife, he slightly tossed it in the air, before catching it again. His eyes darted up at the young man.

"How long has Falcone had that client?" Nicky rubbed his forehead, trying to remember.

"Three years, maybe four? I don't know. I do know that it's a very lucrative client, and Falcone doesn't want to lose him."

"Then what does Bitchell has to do with anything?"

Nicky waved his hand in unconcern.

"He's just a pawn. The client doesn't care for him. Falcone just wants to put Faden on the spot. 'Ll make everyone lives easier."

"Then why resign? Isn't easier to kill him?"

"Not really. There's going to be a big investigation, given that the judge himself is murdered. Plus, Roman doesn't want to drag attention to his client. The DA is already suspicious enough."

Heath contemplated over the information for a second. His finger traced a line on the desk.

"How often are hearings here?"

"Every other day," Nicky shrugged. "I told you. The new DA is very active."

Heath nodded, not really paying attention to what Nicky was saying. A paper , particularly the first sentence, on the judge's desk caught his attention. Heath abruptly shoved the folders which were covering the paper aside.

Miss Rachel Dawes,

I will indeed look into the matter of Jack Browning using the city's criminality to progress his own interests.

Heath looked down at the signature. William Mitchell, Judge. God, this was perfect. Heath glanced back at Nicky, impatiently waiting at the door. A dreadful feeling crawled into the inside his neck, tying a small not in the middle.

"Let's go. I'm done here," he said in an apathetic voice. Nicky exhaled in relief and walked out, holding the door for Heath. The hearing was still going on when they lowered down to the first floor. The skyscrapers looked dark next to the navy blue sky. Heath lit a cigarette and breathed out the smoke.

"Tell your boss that I'll be done with the task by the end of this week," he finally said. Nicky nodded and abruptly turned down an alley. Hath took a deep inhale of the smoke, desperate for it to calm down his nerves, but ended up in coughing it up. Suddenly, his cell phone rang.

Johnathan yanked off his mask and rushed up to Winnifred.

"Freddie," He firmly took her by the elbows. She stared at him with wide, terrified eyes. Johnathan tightly smiled, leading her down to the couch.

"Johnathan," Winnifred whispered, still not quite recovered from the shock. There was a small stream of blood running from the corner of her lip.

"What...what was that?"

"It's okay," Johnathan rubbed her by the shoulders and quickly walked over to his closet. Taking out the bottle which said ALPRAZOLAM, he walked backed to the kitchen. Pouring in some water, Johnathan mixed the drug in the cup, before returning to Winnifred. She was shaking.

"Hey," he touched her by the shoulder. Winnifred jerked, yet accepted the cup.

"What is this?" She asked, taking a sip of the mixture.

"Alprazolam, commonly known as Xanax." Winnifred spat out the sip she've just taken.

"Are you trying to feed me with drugs?" She instantly fired up. Johnathan held himself from rolling his eyes.

"They'll call me you down, I promise."

"Oh no, thank you, I'm calm now," Winnifred snapped and shoved Johnathan back his cup. Johnathan sighed and placed the cup on the table. Winnifred crossed her arms, trying to stop the shivering. Johnathan traced her gaze to the mask, lonesomely lying on the floor.

"Is that for your experiments?" Winnifred quietly asked.

"Yes." Johnathan picked up the sack and placed it into the cupboard.

"Why did you come?" He asked, turning back around to Winnifred.

"I was looking for Heath. It's important." Johnathan raised his eyebrows.

"Is it concerning Browning?"

Winnifred's pressed lips and stubborn expression gave away the answer. Johnathan sighed and walked over to the cord phone.

"That's what happens when you're friends with a psychologist."

"You can never make him a surprise birthday party," Winnifred added, standing up and walking behind Johnathan. The intern smirked and dialed in the number. The dial tone sang into his ear, before abruptly cutting with Heath's voice.

"Hello?"

Winnifred immediately grasped the receiver out of Johnathan's hand.

"Hi, this is Winnifred. Where the heck are you?"

"I'm in Gotham, why?" Winnifred licked her crackled lips. Her tongue touched the edge, sensing the fresh blood on it.

"Listen, I have to tell you something important to tell you. Jack has a business with a mobster."

A sigh echoed in the receiver.

"Yeah, I know. Anything else?" Winnifred frustratingly clutched the phone.

"Heath, we have documented evidence -"

"We?"

"I and Charlotte. We borrowed Browning's business papers for examination."

"Hackers," Heath chuckled.

"Heath."

There was a short silence in the receiver.

"What kind of evidence?" he finally asked.

"Like everything," Winnifred wildly gestured, almost knocking off Johnathan's glasses. Allegations to crime scenes, letters to some Roman, documentations of illegal transactions..."

"Alright. Thank you."

"Wait, Heath," Winnifred frantically tried to grab his attention, sensing that it's slipping out of his hands.

"What?" His voice snapped, as if swatting an annoying fly. Winnifred bit back her hurt and quietly sighed.

"I'm sorry for what happened." It was silent.

"It's okay. It was addressed to you anyway." Winnifred lowered down the phone, staring at the receiver, uttering a monotonous dial tone. Holding back her tears, she handed the phone over to Johnathan.

"See you tomorrow." Johnathan heard her trying to stifle down a sob. "Good luck on your press conferences." The door quietly shut down behind her. Johnathan slowly sat down, passing a hand through his hair. He sharply lit up a cigarette and leaned back on the wall. The smoke curled in front of Johnathan's eyes twisting and fading away. He knew that Heath was capable of surprise if he felt like it was necessary. It was his default mode, switched off years ago.

Dear Freddie,

Browning wants me in jail because he finds my face to irritating. I see only one reason stopping me from doing that. However, if I follow that reason, I would lose. I don't want to lose. I still hold the joker. If I have the joker, then why should I lose?

Heath

Charlotte yawned into the coffee mug and glanced and Winnifred. She was sitting on the lobby couch, tightly clutching the white mug to the point where her fingers went pale. Charlotte lightly touched Winnifred by the shoulder.

"Freddie? Did you tell Heath?" Winnifred blinked and looked at Charlotte.

"Yeah, I told him," she blankly answered.

"And?"

"He said thank you. That's all what I've been hearing from him since the past four days."

"Good morning, ladies," Bobby cheerfully came in, sipping on his coffee.

"How are you all today?"

"Well," Charlotte tiredly smiled. Bob raised one eyebrow.

"Certainly doesn't look like it." Winnifred cracked a distorted grin. Bob showed her a thumbs up and switched on the common room's television.

"Brighten up your ladies' mood with some television." The voice of news reporter filled the room. Winnifred sighed and stood up to get herself some more coffee. She was careful to avoid Jack, who just entered the room.

"Hello, I am John Rein, here on Gotham News..."

Bob tossed the remote on the couch and sat down next to Charlotte. Winnifred meanwhile poured herself some of the coffee from the teapot and started walking towards the couch.

"This morning, at eight twenty three am, Judge William Mitchell was found dead in his office with his throat cut."

"Oh dear," Bob shook his head and took a sip. Jack's face was unreadable.

"Next to the body was found a joker card, most likely carelessly dropped by the murderer."

The TV flashed an image of the joker card, spattered with blood. Charlotte felt her breath being knocked out. She knew that joker card, everyone knew it in this town. There was a sound of shattering porcelain behind her.

A/N: TADDAA! As always, reviews are greatly appreciated ;)