"I need to stop him before he kills anyone else." Silence. He couldn't let the Joker do something as bad as – or worse than – last time. Not only had he murdered innocent people, mocked them in public, but he had tried to destroy all in which Gotham's citizens believe. Gotham's White Knight was led to madness, turned against what he defended. Then Rachel… Bruce stood up and Alfred – who had been just as silent, wondering to himself if young master Wayne knew that he did indeed have limits he shouldn't cross – decided that this was an opportune moment to speak up. "Perhaps you should let the police investigate this first."
"The police won't be of any match for him, Alfred." And they really weren't; not even with their new Commissioner on the job. "But they can collect the evidence that the Batman, as an outlaw, cannot." He was right. But he couldn't wait for the police to finally ask for their Dark Knight's help.
"But how are we supposed to do that?" Because Harley had never gone through this before and she had no idea of what, exactly, she was supposed to do. And it was her one benefit because otherwise Joker could have simply smashed her head against the wall and called her a lousy criminal. Like the Chechen that his henchmen had turned into dog food only months before. "Well that's easy: we find ourselves some friends." There was no long and dramatic pause after his answer. Her next question was automatic.
"What?"
"Friends!" He looked at her with wide-eyes and a small smile and – the "fear inducing" factor aside – his expression seemed to scream 'isn't it obvious?'. He licked his lips and then started the hand gestures as he started pacing around the small room. "Friends, henchmen, clown college drop-outs. Whatever you want to call them, Harley. They can… help us." Harley's mouth formed a small 'o' as she finally realized what he meant. He'd have some connections willing to help out, right? Of course they would think Mr. J was back to causing terror and destruction but that was something they could explain; he is just trying to get better. Joker would have laughed if he knew what she was thinking.
Of course any thug who wanted to find his way into the rogue's gallery wouldn't say no to a big job. And the Joker paid well, yes he did – a nice bullet to the head or a big, big smile depending on how well the job was done. "And where are those… 'Friends' of yours?"
It'd be so easy. Starving ex-mobster would be begging for him to throw them a bone. After he had crippled the mob, far more than Dent or Batman ever could, they would need him. They would hate him, but they needed him. And that was a valuable relationship, because love and hate are fickle things… But necessity is solid. Besides, he couldn't orchestrate all of his schemes alone. He simply needed more than two hands to get things done. And oh what things would be done!
Harley watched as he stalked over to the dirty little window and peered out of it. She couldn't imagine that there was much of a view, honestly. But he was staring so intently, she was just had to be sure. So she stood up and walked across creaky floorboards to stand quietly at his side. He was probably just in deep thought.
It had been a couple hours now. Someone had found the body, the media had heralded his return, and the police had probably denied it.
"We have every reason to believe that the murder was just copy cat crime," Commissioner Gordon said to the room of journalists. Of course it wasn't a copy-cat crime. But he couldn't afford his city to fall into a panic. With a bit of luck, the Batman would have Joker back in Arkham before Gotham caught on. "Rest assured that the force is working on several leads to have the murderer behind bars."
He ignored the barrage of questions that followed his silence, mostly consisting of 'Is it true the Joker escaped from Arkham Asylum last night' and 'There are accounts of the body holding one of the distinct cards he uses' and so forth. He stepped off the podium, looking away from camera flashes, as he and several other officers left the press conference.
"I hope he had better luck with the crime scene that we did…" he muttered, checking his watch. Still early. He'd be counting the minutes to nightfall.
Alfred knew there was no changing Master Wayne's mind.
"I'll lay out the keys then," he remarked, walking back out of the room to leave Bruce to his thoughts.
Bruce took his cup and mechanically drank the tea. He knew Joker would only be found if he wanted to be. The madman could lay low and virtually disappear if he wanted… But he wouldn't do that. Whatever he was planning would be big and flashy, and he knew that Joke wasn't 'hiding' out of fear.