Author's note

Writing Alfred has proven to be somewhat problematic, I don't understand why but I'm having a blast with this character and it's difficult for me to be serious with him.
Bonne lecture.


Chapter 2

February the 15th, 23:54 PM, the victim's name is Carl Herbort, a 32 years old Haitian man, he stopped everything linked to drug after he got out of jail and has been working as a busboy in a restaurant ever since. He was one of these rare criminal who repented and changed.
He was going to leave the hospital on the next day, he fully recovered from the poisonous drink he had been forced into consuming. Batman joined Carl in his room, the man did not seem surprised to see him.
"How did you manage to survive?"
"I'm guessing it wasn't my time to go."
"Tell me about the time you've spent at Blackgate with Joker."
The man looked away, his facial expression grew gloomy.
"We never talked and I've always been uncomfortable just looking at him. He's nightmarish, he's like a glamorous diva trapped in a slender ghoul's body, everything about him is wrong. I couldn't stand it."
"If you were so afraid, why were you provoking him?"
"Provoking?"
The detective got closer, bending his body slightly over Carl, in a way he could be a little more intimidating.
"I know why he dressed you up as a dog, or should I say a bitch."
The victim sigh while rubbing his palms anxiously and ashamed.
"Okay, I use to call him names, he never replied, never fought back, he always ignored me. It was dark times, Batman. I didn't have the rage to keep living, but I didn't have the courage to end it either, so I relied on his actions to save me."
"Save you?"
"If he'd killed me, I would've escaped my miserable life, but he didn't... Well not then and my time in jail went a lot easier, the inmates thought I was brave for taunting the Joker all the time."
The vigilante understood his nemesis plan, a thing that no one's willing to fight for is a worthless thing. His life was nothing of worth then, but now...
"I can't believe he's back, after all these years..."
Carl was sorrowful, he did not survived the attack because he was an accomplice, he survived it to become one. Now, he would do anything asked by Joker only to save his skin. The hero stepped back in realization that the man was not one of the enemy.
"Carl, Joker is not yet aware of your survival. You can move, you can change your name, you can escape."
Batman never liked lying, he knew well that the clown would find him again somehow and make him do horrible things before murdering him without mercy, still he needed to give this man some hope. If anything, it could slow the process.
"I will..." He nodded like the defeated person he now was.

February the 16th, 1:23 AM, he is in an interrogation room with the two thugs, Yessar and Andre. Both of them have always been involved in crime, but never been in charge of anything, they were simple hired arms and nothing more. Even though they weren't very bright they could still be playing a role in the whole bomb situation.
The questioning went almost as planned, the detective beat them both into a pulp, breaking one's humerus only to find out that none of them were connected to the case. He left them into police custody and went back to the Batcave.

"Any leads, sir?"

"No, but I have an idea." He replied gathering all of the surveillance equipment he had.
Alfred looked at it concerned, he had been consumed by the seven days of spying he just had done with Bruce and was not looking forward to more pointless screen-staring.
"I will investigate the buildings and for each done with nothing found I will wire up key points to where a bomb should be set in order to achieve maximum damage."
"Do you really possess enough cameras to do this?" He said, considering the small pile of gadgets his friend had huddled.
"Not yet. I'll get more as I advance, beside, I can't examine all the places of Gotham in one night." He put everything in the Batmobile. "This will do just fine for now."

As he got out of the Batcave, he opened up a map in order to pinpoint strategically which place to start and end with. His mind wondered off a bit, reflecting on Carl and the two thugs. Making one's death slower always made him feel guilty, yet torturing gangsters for answers he might not even get made his mood lighter. Come to think of it, Joker's murders were forming the majority of the crimes weighting on his conscience. Every time he'd kill someone the detective was disappointed, still he knew his nemesis felt the same kind of disappointment toward him every time he would let a criminal live. They were constantly expecting so much from one another, expecting one not to end the person's life and expecting the other to complete the violence he had started with an individual. He reconsidered the gift as it kept haunting his thoughts. He reflected on this twisted complicity they share when unleashing their savageness onto one another. Suddenly, Batman cut his line of thought short before fully losing his focus and got back on his operation.

February the 23th, 23:47 PM, it took the caped crusader three days to inspect and set up his equipment through the entire city. Alfred and him has been spying Gotham for four days and their work had been utterly useless.
"Isn't there anybody you could interrogate?"
"I don't think so..."
"What about Quinn, sir?"
Bruce thought about her, in fact before Joker's gift, she was in his mind constantly.
January 17th had been a shocking day for the people of Gotham, including himself as Harleen Quinzel was declared sane and released from Arkham. The doctors claimed she just completely changed in a matter of 24 hours during mid December. They kept her under observation continually, tested her, provoked her, but she really seemed fully rehabilitated. The psychiatrists spoke out about their theories on how this could have happened, but still they remain unaware of how this was truly possible. Batman was not buying it at first, he spoke with her the day after her released, she seemed sane. He kept an eye out for her, but she really was sane. Even as Joker escaped on February 2th, nothing took place. He just ruled her out of his suspect list.
"It's worth a try."

February 24th, 0:26 AM, Harleen have been living in a tiny and pitiful apartment, she had no job and did not seem to go out much. He came in by the kitchen window. He would have knocked at the door but he knew she would not have answered. In the living room, she was sitting on the floor, her face almost against the TV screen, playing Call of Duty with the volume extremely loud. A black hoodie, underwear and socks, that is all she was wearing. She had a microphone on, it was an old cheap thing, it was almost impressive that she could connect that lame object to a modern console and make it work.
"Checkm8! One versus one, head shot only! I swear I can take ya!"
The player named "Checkm8" replied with a voice that oddly sounded like Alfred's.
"I do not know on what you are swearing, but get ready to disappoint it."
"OOH! It's on!" Batman stepped in, ignoring what he just heard.
"Quinn."
She screamed and jumped up, sending her controller and microphone to the ground.
"What's wrong with you!? Breaking into my home and fucking scaring me!" She bent down and spoke in the mic "I gotta go." Shutting down her console, she looked up at the vigilante with a smirk. "You're gonna send me back there for panic attacks if you keep getting in by the window."
It was easy for her to take things lightly, she already seemed peaceful and merry. The detective was adjusting on which traits were part of her personality and which were part of the madness and now gone. He no longer believed her sanity was some sort of fraud, but was sometimes uncomfortable with her. It felt like watching a scary movie and holding your breathe for that jump scare that never happen. It was difficult to accept that she no longer was a foe.
"You never open the door."
"'Course not! Have you met my ex-boyfriend? He's kind of violent, ya know?"
"Wouldn't you recognize my voice?"
"Nope." She went to the kitchen, with him following, opened the fridge and got a beer out. "Want one?"
"What if you get a piece of paper, draw or write whatever you want and give it to me? Then every time I knock I could slide it under your door and you would know it's me."
"Oh please! You're the last person I'd trust around him, he'll find out! You would tell him."

Batman was getting a little impatient, he had been there for a few minutes and haven't even got the chance to start questioning her, because getting in her home properly was already a mystery on its own.
"How do people reach you, Harleen?" She stopped smiling and looked at him with a severe expression.
"Only my true friends knows how." She put her beer on the counter and started approaching him. "But since I have to follow to rules now, I'll tell ya..." Her hands rested on his chest while she got on tip of her toe in order to get closer to his face. She then whispered. "They knock at the kitchen window and I let'em in."
The detective sighed while the girl giggled and got back to her drink.
"I'm here to ask you some questions. It's about Joker..."
"I haven't seen him since Arkham, what am I suppose to know?"
"Anything about a bomb? Destroying a building?"
"What? Ain't that what he usually do?"
"Any contacts?"
"The ones I know are all locked up right now." She was quick in her responses, way too quick.
"You're hiding something from me." She rolled her eyes.
"Why don't ya beat a confession out of me?"
A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of these words. He was picturing the clown in his head, his gift, it was bothering him now. This awoke a hunger in him, he felt the need to fight, to conquer this situation again. He feared losing control over himself. As he got closer she stepped back, only to end up against the counter. She was not looking afraid, rather blasé. Harleen put her hand on him pushing him delicately.
"Don't. Really don't... I was kidding." He stayed near her, doing nothing, she did not remove her hand from him.
"You listened to him carefully, right?" She looked away. "Tell me what he said, I can figure it out..."
"I doubt it."
"Then leave! I don't know shit!" She pointed to the kitchen window. He gave her some space.
"He's threatening to blow up a building unless I do whatever he says."
She slowly smiled and started chuckling while walking toward her living room, he waited. She came back holding a teddy bear, now laughing and threw it to Batman who did nothing.
"Show me where he touched you!"
"It's not like that."
"What is he asking?"
"That's not important! I can't find the bomb, that's what this is about." She stopped laughing.
"Did he specify it was a building in Gotham?"
His heart almost stopped, he felt so dumb. Exhaustion mixed with shame filled him as he realized how much more work he had to do and how stupid he had been to let this detail slip. He did not answered her, he was going to wait for her to turn around and leave promptly. Harleen went to pick her plushie up and headed back to the living room.
"Maybe he'll finally destroy Arkham."
He had not investigate Arkham either. He vanished from her apartment saying nothing.

1:56 PM, most people in Arkham should be asleep, which would make the inspection of the asylum easier. He never enjoyed drawing attention to himself, especially in that place. He did not need to bring any equipment since the last renovations and upgrades had been paid by his own company. They changed almost the entirety of the plumbing, the ventilation, made the cells sound proof which helped in making the place more tranquil and they also improved the whole surveillance system with their technology. It was a fortress, yet Joker kept escaping without difficulty.
The caped crusader decided to stop by the security room in order to advise the guards and workers of his presence. While in there, he took a look at the image on one screen; two cells, facing one another, in the maximum security area still had their light open.
"Who's cell are those? Why are the lights open?"
A guard and a psychiatrist were in the room with him. The guard answered.
"It's Joker's and Edward Nygma's. The inmates can now control the light, but if they start flashing it we can cancel their control from here." The psychiatrist continued.
"We believe it helps them to feel a little more free while accepting some authority."
Batman approached the keyboard and opened the cameras from within their cells. They were at their door, looking at each other. Joker was standing on one leg, his tibia had a cast. The guard chuckled.
"Are they having a staring contest or something?"
Suddenly Joker started moving his arms and hands around. While the workers seemed perplexed the detective recognized what he was doing; American sign language. He had learned it before so he focused to understand what he was saying.
Joker: Pawn B2 to B4.
Nygma responded.
Nygma: Knight G8 to F6.
Joker: Bishop C1 to A3.
Nygma: You are already losing.
Joker: No. Play fast.
"What the fuck?" Added the guard.
"They're playing chess in sign language, naming the piece followed by the position it will take." The psychiatrist's jaw dropped.
"That's... impressive." Batman would have agreed, but this could be problematic.
"You need to get someone who knows ASL to keep an eye on them or change their cells so they cannot communicate."
"I'd rather find someone than move them."
The detective left the room to go analyse the architecture, seeking the place that would initiate maximum destruction. He discovered two key locations, both in cells; the first one was Harleen's last cell, the second one was Joker's current cell. He decided to start with the empty cell since examining the clown's cell could take a some time.
No one had occupied the room since January 17th, but it was kept clean by the maintenance crew. He looked, everywhere, trying to find holes or weak spots on the walls, floor, ceiling, moving the furniture, but nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, as he turned around to leave he noticed a graffiti, a small one on the door. It was written with a permanent black marker: KNOCK ON THE KITCHEN WINDOW. He contacted the guard.
"Who made the graffiti in Quinzel's last cell? Was it her?"
"We don't know who but it wasn't her, we had eyes on that girl non-stop for a month."
"When was it first seen?"
"February 15th. Why is this so important? It's meaningless..."
"It is." He did not want to attach more people to this messed up case and knowing the earliest recordings on the cameras were from seven days ago, looking back a the footage would be useless.

The hero was standing in the the corridor, near the end was light, their cell's light. He was not looking forward alone time with Joker knowing he had not found anything and his enemy still had almost complete power over him. He decided to blur to the camera in his cell in case he would have to do something horrible under the clown's command.
As he got in between their cells, Joker's smiled widened. Nygma communicated something to him.
Nygma: Wild idiot appeared.
Edward closed his light and left his door's window. Batman walked toward the door leading to the last key location. Behind it, he was pressing himself against the door continually speaking although not a single sound could get through these new walls. The vigilante prepared himself for catching him. Opening the cell, his nemesis let himself fall outside of it screaming.
"SOUNDPROOOOF!"
He caught and pushed him back almost instantly letting him fall on the ground. He shut everything behind him.
"Since when do you speak American sign language?" The detective bent down to help him up.
"I don't remember." He went limp. "Take me like a princess!" They stared at one another, one cheerful and smiling, the other disenchanted. "C'mon Basty, I know I'm not much to look at when I'm in here, but you can use your imagination."
In Arkham, he was not allowed to use make up nor nail polish since most of these products were toxic when eaten and he would be the kind of person to hide this in one's meal. The person would not die of it, but they could get very sick and it simply was a scenario the workers preferred to avoid. He still had intense facial traits without it, but was simply less vivid. He had somewhat pulpy and light red lips, bleached white skin, strong law lines, blond eyelashes, light green eyes, etc. Make up was not a requirement for him to have a very unique face.
"I think you're fine like this."
"Ahh... you're just saying things." He giggled as the hero walked passed him to investigate a first wall, feeling slightly awkward as what he said was not meant to be taken that way. "So, you're not gonna help me? Bats?"
The first wall seemed fine, not a crack, no weak spots, not even a stain was on it.
"Looking for something? Maybe I have it on myself..." He was now examining his bed, but he already had in mind to inspect him. "Just so you know, I'm not okay with dry. Not at all."
Batman stopped abruptly, deeply uncomfortable. Was he vaguely asking for sex? He did not want to just fuck him here and now. He rethought of when Harleen was making innuendos about him and Joker during the questioning, maybe she was right. The clown rolled on the floor trying to face his hero.
"I mean, some people in Arkham really aren't smooth. I know and I'm okay with them shoving a finger or two up my ass during a casual body inspection, but can't they be gentlemen enough to lube themselves just a little!? Just enough so I don't feel rape!" He cackled while the dark knight actually felt sorry for him.
"I was not going to do that anyway."
"That's a shame."
He was done with the bed and moved to another wall. He was glad he had misunderstood what Joker was talking about, yet he felt that maybe Quinzel was right and this was to some extent a sexual thing. In fact the last fight was very sexualised by a lot of elements, like the messages on his body, him being almost naked, still it was unexpected but not really out of the ordinary. Come to think of it, the smaller man is a masochist, so what really surprised Batman was that he took the beating, enjoyed it but did not get an erection. It was not his intention to arouse him, but he would have expected this reaction from him and was wondering why this intense assault did not make him...
"It was hard, you know..." Still in his thoughts, he turned to look at Joker completely shocked and answered.
"What?! It was?" The clown seemed puzzled.
"... it was hard to just let you bring me back here." The detective went back to his task feeling foolish while the other man climbed up from the floor to his bed. "You okay, baby? Maybe you should be the one locked up here." He mocked him.
Only one wall left, but there seems to be nothing to be found anywhere.
"Did you found my bomb?"
"I did, I'm here for another case." Joker burst into a loud laughter.
"No you didn't! Don't lie to me!" The caped crusader was done with investigating the cell, he had found nothing. He turned around to face his nemesis sitting in his bed and chuckling. "You can't lie to me."
"What do you want?"
"By now, you must have searched through the whole city."
The hero approached him and placed his hands on his shoulders, he wanted to take a look at his cast and under his shirt where the ribs had been broken. The clown had a vicious smile and Batman thought that it was weird he was not asking for anything.
"I'm going to take a look at your bandages and cast." He lift up Joker's shirt just a little.
"Can you feel me through your gloves?" He ran his nails from the neck to the chest, scratching the bat symbol. "Can you feel me through your suit?"
"Not really, so don't bother." He was done with the bandages, the rapidity of this man's healing capacity was astonishing; he would be fine in a matter of days.
"You're probably gonna head out to search other cities. Trust me, don't."
The detective thought that the fact Joker knew that he was done with inspecting Gotham was from an easy assumption; but how could he figure out if he leaves the city? Has he hired someone to spy on him? He now had a dilemma, if he did not leave Gotham, maybe he would never find the bomb, but if he leaves to find it, perhaps it would trigger the explosion.
His cast was normal.
"It's funny how I'm going to escape and you'll have to sit back and do nothing."
"You're escaping now?" The clown lied down on his bed.
"Naaah... I'm tired. Beside, you interrupted me and Eddie's game! We'll finish it tomorrow."
Nygma could probably remember the positioning of each piece of the game until the next day, but he did not think Joker could. He was lying and there's nothing he could do about it. His foe was planning something big and he was at his mercy.
"Close the light before leaving." Batman was stunned that his presence was bothering the pale man. This was uncanny, yet he did what he was told and while stepping out of the dark cell he heard him murmured in a bitter voice. "You smell like her."

Back in the Batcave he explained the dilemma to Alfred, none of them were sure of what to do. He also mentioned the graffiti about the kitchen window.
"I'm not sure if I should warn her."
"Why is that, sir?"
"I don't know if she's a victim who had been stalked or if she's an ally to someone in there, someone who will escape, like Joker. I know she's sane, but I don't trust her."
"I'm guessing you would like me to keep an eye on this cell's camera so we will know who sees the graffiti."
"Yes, but I also wonder who did it." Everything was getting more and more obscure, with details surfacing but never quite making sense and everyone acting strange in a hazy way. "I don't know what to do about the bomb..."
"I do not think there is anything else you can do. I suggest you wait for a new event to take place. I'm sorry sir, but you are completely out of leads."
"I'll see about that."
He glanced at the screens full of surveillance footage feeling drained. His butler started walking away, they both seemed ready to call it a night, but before Bruce just had to ask the question.
"Alfred, have you been playing video games?" He stopped moving, but did not turn around. "Harleen was playing a game and one of the player had a voice really similar to yours."
"That girl was Miss Quinzel?" He slightly turned his head. "Surprising. I would have expected an ex-criminal to aim a lot better." He then left the room casually.