Disclaimers: I do not own Batman/Bruce Wayne, Alfred, Lucius, or the Gordon family and I never will. Crispus Allen and Renee Montoya all belong to the DC Universe. They are from Batman Gotham Knight the animated movie and in the novelization.
A/N: School begins for me in September 2nd. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! Anyways, now that the Olympics are done I can have a few days of freedom before that. Anyways, I hope you enjoy. Things finally get interesting. (Oh, please tell me how I do with the Joker. I admit that I'm not entirely used to writing him.) Reviews appreciated!
Summary: Gordon and Batman rely on each other, but when a threat is against Gordon's family Gordon must rely on Bruce Wayne. What will happen? Will Gordon notice the mysterious disappearances? Post Dark Knight
Loyal Friends – Sudden Will
Breaking news! The heir of the Vanderkaay fortune Grayson Byron was found dead in front of Gotham International Museum earlier this evening.
Bruce's eyes widened and he immediately put the fifty pound weight down.
Bryon was killed; murdered?
How can that be? Bruce knew Byron had at least four body guards following him all over. Were they killed too?
Four other men identified as Byron's bodyguards were also found dead.
Bruce couldn't believe it. Byron had been in perfect health a day ago, but now this happened. It was so sudden.
He wondered who got to him. He knew the killer or killers must be skilled in the art of fighting because he knew full well that Byron's bodyguards were military trained, and had licenses for a bunch of weapons.
Byron was never a friend, but Bruce didn't think of him as the shallow heir of a large fortune. No, Byron was a family man and he often went and held charity events for many different cities besides Gotham.
Who would want to hurt him?
This was unacceptable. He didn't expect to hear such grave news. His heart went out to Byron's wife and daughter.
No family should have to go through that.
He quickly stood up, went into the bedroom, and after pushing some certain things he entered the hidden room to dress up as the Batman.
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Commissioner Gordon arrived at the scene to see an all too curious crowd of journalists and reporters. He also saw the members of the fire department to his people in Gotham P.D. with their flashing lights of blue and red.
What seemed to be an already long night he knew would become even longer. Another crime – a high profiled one had been committed.
When will it end?
He didn't know when, but what he did know was that crime was rising. Gotham had become the fourth in the countries high crime stats.
But to him it wasn't that bad. Before Gotham used to be at the top – number one.
It was all thanks to Batman. He gave hope and a reason to fight.
He made me stronger.
The progress in the city was slow, but at least progress was being made. People were ready, but slowly working to get their city back.
But now he couldn't stop a feeling of fear washing over him.
Five men were murdered tonight. They were – he guessed - strategically placed in front of Gotham International Museum. Four men at the corner of one man in the middle, and that man in the middle happened to be an heir to a fortune that would last Gordon over a hundred years.
Lt. Allen and Detective Montoya stood by his side as he looked at the five bodies in front of the museum.
He shook his head at the horrible sight.
"Byron was burned by his hairs." Allen mentioned.
Gordon frowned. By the hair?
"Died from a heart attack." Montoya added.
Heart attack?
Gordon shook his head again. Byron was most likely terrified. The terror must from being burnt by his hair must have caused the heart attack.
"What about the other four?" he asked.
Before Allen or Montoya could reply someone else answered; a familiar low female someone's voice.
"Pocketknife. Same as Darrin Ward."
Gordon, Allen, and Montoya looked to their right.
There the speaker was.
It was Dr. Diana Campbell.
Her already pale face seemed paler. Her hair was in a bun, and she was wearing very informal clothes as her inquisitive blue eyes shined.
Campbell's eyes weren't on the bodies. She only gave the five bodies a glance and that was it.
"He's getting braver – or maybe just continuing his steps in his plan. Clever fellow. He wants to show everyone that no one is safe – not even a billionaire," she explained.
Her eyes brightened strangely.
Gordon was about to give his thanks, but Campbell turned and walked away without any words.
"You two handle this. Bring me the report tomorrow." Gordon instructed wearily.
Allen and Montoya nodded as Gordon walked away from them; both knowing exactly what he going to do, but not where.
He was going to Batman.
They both approved for when they found out the news that Batman was now a murderer they didn't believe it. They saw the look on their boss' face when he destroyed the skylight and declared Batman an evil to the city. They saw that he was uncomfortable – hell, angry that he had to do it, and what struck them most was the subtle grief.
Besides that, they knew Batman wasn't a killer. They knew and saw enough that the Batman was a vigilante. Batman was an ally.
And it helped that the commissioner gave them hints on the situation.
They had no reason to worry. Batman was roaming the street of Gotham; helping the police clean the streets.
And Gordon would be there to lead the way since Batman was no longer called a symbol of hope. Dent was declared as the hope of Gotham. But he fell.
No, Allen and Montoya knew that Gordon was the hope, and Batman was Gordon's hope.
They never had worried too bad about Gordon's safety because they knew who better to protect their boss than a man who blended so well in the shadows – the Batman.
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In less than thirty minutes, Dr. Diana Campbell arrived in the Narrows, parked, and entered Arkham Asylum thanks to the power of going over the speed limit.
She was a graduate of Gotham University, and was the top of her class. She then traveled the world and interviewed as many people – criminals as she could.
She wasn't that old. She was only thirty three, but since she was so intelligent she passed faster than the rest of the students of her class.
Since the loss of Dr. Jonathon Crane, Arkham had been looking for an heir of sorts for the asylum.
And she was it.
For the past few months, she interviewed most of the criminals in Arkham except for one. She hadn't interviewed the Joker yet, and she also wanted to interview the Batman, but for now – the Joker would do.
She remembered the file she received on him. It was that big.
No name. No residence. Just knives and lint, and habit of terrifying people. Also a knack of causing destruction.
"Dr. Campbell."
She looked at her assistant Mina and nodded. They walked down the halls to the solitary confinement. Once they arrived there, they turned left down the hall and stopped at the door of a private conference room.
And there the Joker was.
He was sitting unchained and sitting smugly on the steel chair. And his eyes were looking straight at them even though she knew that he could not see through. But his eyes were piercing her despite that.
She put her hand on the knob.
"Be careful." Mina said worriedly and nervously.
Campbell merely smiled. She wasn't afraid. It was a part of her living to deal with evil and to fight it with – something else.
"Don't worry. Shut the sound off – confidentiality. But if something does happen – don't' come in. I'll be fine, I swear."
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Barbara Gordon kissed the heads of her two children. She walked to the doorway, but didn't leave.
Instead, she stood in the doorway and looked at them lovingly.
The first two months after the whole incident with Dent was hard. She and her family had been momentarily traumatized.
She had thought that Harvey Dent was a good guy. He was once. But then he broke. She knew that he was close to Rachel Dawes and she knew at once that it was Dawes' death that caused Dent to break.
And unfortunately for her and her family, Dent unleashed his anger, grief, confusion, and frustration out against them.
Dent became a crazed man who set out to get revenge against her husband by using his family.
But Batman saved us all.
She was never sure if she liked the idea of her husband allying himself to a vigilante that dressed up like a bat.
And she came pretty close to hating Batman when she thought Jim was dead.
But then her outlook changed. Batman saved her and her family. He took a bullet for her family and saved her son from Dent before the man could catch that coin of his to see if Jimmy would die or not.
Gratitude to Batman grew as well as her appreciation. She now understood her children's fascination with him, and her husband's trust in him.
She also respected him not only for rescuing her family but for taking the blame.
Batman had taken the blame for all the things she now knew that he never did and would never do. He had taken the blame for what Dent did so he could preserve the "White Knight" image.
Some White Knight…
She knew who the real "White Knight' was, and it wasn't Dent. It was her husband Jim. He had so many chances to give up hope and let Gotham go down the toilet, but he didn't. No, he stayed and fought. He stayed and fought with a clean record and a hopeful mind.
The respect she had for Batman grew because the real "White Knight" trusted him.
She remembered Jim once muttering that Batman was Gotham's "Dark Knight."
She smiled slightly.
The two knights…
One was white and the other dark.
After the event of Dent, she and her family suffered fear of being forever traumatized and some nightmares.
Yes, she and the children had some nightmares for the first few months, but Jim was so helpful.
He soothed their fears and gave hope.
She and the family could never forget, but they finally moved on.
Jim would always protect her and the kids.
She then spotted something on the table between her Jimmy and Barb's bed. It was something black and bat shaped.
It was the Christmas present Batman gave the children.
She smiled wider.
Jim had a protector in Batman.
Batman and Jim.
Heroes in their own right.
Gotham's Dark and White Knight…
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The Joker looked up at the sound of the door opening.
Interestingly enough, the person who entered wasn't Ms. Charlie or the other various psychologists that tried to get into his head.
This was a woman.
He could tell from the get-go it was a different kind of woman. She was pale as milk and she wore very informal clothes.
A smile formed on his face as she sat down in front of him; giving him a better view.
He saw earlier on that she was a bit shorter than he was. Thin looking, but he could tell by the way she sat that she was a fighter. But the question was – mentally or physically?
"My name's Doctor Campbell," she introduced in a slightly low voice.
Oh, he liked her already.
"Campbell… Ah! Re-minds me of something…" he drawled; motioningwith his left hand.
But unfortunately, he wasn't able to finish his sentence for the doctor interrupted.
That was strangely fascinating and infuriating.
"Like the commercial. Campbell as in Campbell's Tomato Soup. I know," she said.
He made a puh sound with his lips.
"The…buh-butt of jokes, huh?" he asked with a mad grin.
The dear doctor, psychoanalyst, or whatever she was didn't react at first, but then a flush came to her cheeks; actually coloring her very pale skin.
He laughed.
Campbell shifted in her seat.
Nervous aren't we?
It was all so amusing.
"You're lucky I didn't have you restrained." Campbell retorted roughly.
Oh, REALLY?
"Well… Ha ha ha hee ha ha! Even if you, uh, tie me up – nuh, nothing CAN stop me, doctor," he cackled.
The latest addition to his stay in Gotham flinched.
"Troubling isn't it?"
He crossed and uncrossed his arms as he looked with disgust and amusement at the cream colored shirt that the rulers of Arkham made him wear as well as cream colored trousers.
He chuckled.
"Cuh-ream white!" he exclaimed. He then leaned scooted his chair further in the table and leaned forward as if telling Campbell a secret. "Have ya ever wondered why white is com-commonly used in puh-laces like this when loooooonies like me prefer the better color – black."
To his enjoyment, Campbell's blue eyes darkened. He liked it when it better that way. She looked so much easier to play with.
"That's what people call ironic," she replied pointedly.
Ooooh.
"SNAPPY!" he growled. He tilted his head. "What do I call yea?"
"Doctor."
"Wha? No name?"
Campbell smiled triumphantly.
Oh, don't make that look lady. I might have to wipe that off.
"Kinda like you. No name; just use of a moniker for every day use."
He smiled.
Feisty.
"You must have come here for a reason. Obviously not for checking me, uh, out. So, what questions do thee have. I might just have an answer."
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Gordon was in his office alone with door locked, window closed, and camera to his balcony off.
He sat in the dark with his only light to be a candle. He was leaning against his chair waiting.
Whoever killed Darrin Ward, Grayson Byron and his body guards concerned. Dr. Campbell was right again. The killer did continue.
And he knew that this killer would only escalate in his crimes.
It was the last thing Gotham needed. Finally the Joker was locked up, but now a serial killer as come up.
It wasn't right.
It's Gotham.
"How do you know it's the same man?" asked a hoarse voice in front of him.
Gordon looked up and smiled slightly at Batman. He couldn't really see Batman, but that was better for the both of them.
He wasn't in the mood for chasing his ally. He just wanted to rest.
"The four bodyguards died from the same pocket knife that Darrin Ward died from. Same marks, same deaths, and that means same pocketknife," he replied. "And we got a new psychologist in town."
Batman didn't blink.
"Dr. Diana Campbell," the masked man said.
Gordon wasn't that surprised. Batman had a way of finding out things.
"Yes, she's the one who I guess profiled the killer." Gordon explained. "And so far she's been right. I'm concerned though. This killer – a serial one is bringing me pains in my gut. I don't like it. No evidence so far except how the first victim was killed."
Batman nodded. "I'll find out what I can."
Gordon nodded as Batman disappeared into the shadows.
He ran his hands through his hair; exhaustion through him. He then checked the watch. It was late. He needed to go home.
Tomorrow would be another day.
He now needed rest.
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Diana raised an eyebrow at that statement from the Joker. She sat up straighter; sensing that the Joker thoughts were on her and what he could do.
She wanted the Joker to start talking; not revealing anything. But to just talk and talk, and maybe she would get the reaction she wanted.
"Why do you do it?" she asked; putting the clipboard on the table.
The Joker looked at her. She couldn't tell if he was annoyed or amused. Or maybe it was both.
"The wind is changing… There's been an eclipse… A full moon! What's today? Monday? Because if it is? I'd like to tell you that I huh-hate Mondays! In fact, I don't really like most days…"
Diana wasn't amused. She wrote a few things on her the paper on the clipboard. She didn't fail to notice the Joker watching her with an indescribable look in his eyes.
"Why the make up?" she then asked; ignoring the scars.
Joker quickly replied nonchalantly, "It makes me beautiful. I have a tendency to grow thuh these enormous pimples. It makes me pretty. It covers up the scars. Do you see my scars? I put the make up on because I'm ashamed of them. Ugly things uh? Do you want to know how I got these scars?"
Diana resisted rolling her eyes. It was the typical intelligent evasive maneuver.
"Why not kill the Batman?" she asked. And if she got to question the Batman she would ask him why he didn't kill the Joker.
Something changed or hitched the Joker's body. Diana didn't' know what, but something happened.
"He's too interesting. Fun! Attractive! The only thuh-ing that keeps me going… He knows something. Do you want to know what he knows? A bug…that's him – like a cockroach. He he ha ha ha hee. But I'm one toooooooo. He completes me."
"Stop rambling. I want the truth. Not some stupid stuff like the things you said," she snapped; forcefully but hopefully Joker could not see it.
Then she got what she wanted.
The Joker got a look in his eyes. It was a look she knew all too well.
She braced herself.
He lunged.
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"La…la…di….la….la…la…."
"Stop singing will you!"
He grinned; looked at his next victim who was tied to a chair.
No, not just tied, but cuffed as well.
"You don't like my singing?" he asked cheerfully. "A shame…"
He grabbed the hammer and tilted his head.
"Why don't you sing?"
His prey howled.
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Diana could barely breathe. The grip the Joker had around her neck with his left hand was strong.
His eyes were boring into hers. Cocoa brown eyes showing mild anger, slight curiosity, and intense humor.
She was now on the floor with him on top of her. His legs each on the side of her waist.
He was smiling, but not in a mad way. It was like even though he certainly had the look of a madman there was also a touch of a genius in him.
Diana mentally told herself to calm down without showing it to the man. She needed to him to think of her as someone to mess with, but also someone who could be broken if one pushed the right buttons.
She tried to struggle, but the grip around her neck tightened. She stopped immediately as the Joker's eyes darkened and lightened at the same time.
"Why so serious?" he growled as he playfully stroked her cheek with a free hand. "Why? Why? Why? That's one ah-annoying question. Can't you think of something else besides why?"
Diana made herself flinch at his touch, but as his grip tightened she knew that she couldn't anymore. Yet she was determined enough to show fear in her eyes although she did not feel it.
"Oh, don't be afraid. I'm not gonna hurt you." Joker said in an assuring tone, and then he laughed.
You do have one annoying laugh.
But she understood the scary part of it. It wasn't necessarily maniacal, but it was close. And sadism was a word that came into her mind.
It clicked.
As he was laughing, she summoned all of her strength and felt the needle drop into her hand. She lifted up her hand and slammed the needle hard into the Joker's neck.
His eyes didn't widen in surprise, but he looked at her, and his grip suddenly lessened in force.
She pushed and watched the medicine be injected into so quickly. She then lifted up her other hand and grabbed the hand that was around her neck.
With a huff, she tore his hand away from her neck as the Joker looked at her with a slight humorous look that was filled with amusement and a hint of awe.
He opened his mouth to laugh, but found that he couldn't. A wave of anger came over his face, but it faded as quickly as it came.
He didn't move. He found that he couldn't.
Diana got up from the floor and looked at him with her own twisted grin. She ran her hand through her hair and tilted her head.
She rubbed her neck quickly once with her left hand.
"You better not having given me bruises. I've got an appearance to keep," she said. Her grin widened. "I bet you're wondering what I injected you with." She switched to a similar talking style of the Joker. "It's a suh-E-cret. Mine!"
The Joker really wanted to laugh. He was enjoying this. She got the better of him. But he wouldn't let that last.
Diana kicked his chest and watched with pleasure as the Joker fell to the floor; landing on his back.
She noticed that even when subdued he still held a confidence and a certain control.
That intrigued her the most.
"You're a spontaneous bastard. You don't plan anything. You're a villain who has a will. I have a will. Everyone has a will. But your will is different from the rest. You're willing to do anything. Unpredictable… You are what I call an agent of a supposedly infinite and glorious chaos. The Joker is a mass murdering schizophrenic clown with zero empathy and a sadistic sense of humor. Why? Why? Why?"
She bent down beside him and roughly pulled the needle out of his neck; confident that no one was watching. The people of Arkham trusted her implicitly.
She whispered almost tenderly in his ear, "Why? The question is for the both of us. Why? It's because of our wills whether they are iron or stupid. Because we want to. Because we can."
With that, she left the Joker lying alone.
Both of them were laughing inside.
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TBC
End-note: Wow, this was one of my longer chapters. I hope you enjoyed! Reviews appreciated! Tell me about what you think of Diana and the Joker! Thank you!