CHAPTER 8 – OLD FRIENDS, OLD FOES

Jim Gordon, once the Police Commissioner of Gotham City, was now retired, in theory, at least. But in practise, he still seemed to be as immersed in the world of policework as ever. He wasn't sure if it was because they still needed him, or because, as much as he hated to admit it, he needed them.

Standing in his grubby brown raincoat in Dr Tom Barker's office, watching the detectives, uniformed officers and forensics teams do their thing, he really felt like a useless old fart more than ever. But he had to be there, had to feel like he was doing something, anything. Gordon had retired after the murder of his wife, Lieutenant Sarah Essen. And the man who had killed her, the same man who had crippled his daughter and put him through years of mental torment, was the one who had murdered Dr. Tom Barker and his patients.

The Joker…

When would this ever end? It was a grim, never-ending cycle. The Joker escaped from Arkham, and lives were destroyed, in more ways than one. Then he was caught and locked up, only to escape again. All the victims seemed to blur into one sickening whole, a sea of grinning corpses. Gordon believed in justice, in doing things the right way, never crossing that line that would make him one of them. But The Joker stretched Gordon's morals to breaking point, time and time again. He constantly found himself thinking that the world would be a safer, better place without The Joker in it, and as much as he tried not too, a part of him, deep within him, hated himself for not killing this monster when he'd had the chance.

Gordon shambled outside for a cigarette, only to remember that he'd quit smoking because of his angina. He swore under his breath, turning to go back inside. But suddenly, he stopped, his shoulders tensing slightly.

"You should stop sneaking up on me like that," said Gordon, turning to face Batman, "I've got a bad heart."

"The Joker", growled Batman, skipping any form of pleasantries, "What's he done this time?"

Batman was crouched in the shadows, perched on a ledge adjacent to the front stairway. With his cape draped around him, and only the white slits of his eyes clearly visible, he really did look like a ghoul of the night.

"Used his laughing gas on a therapy group for depression," answered Gordon, "Probably his idea of a joke…"

There was a brief pause. Gordon shuffled uncomfortably on his feet.

"Did you hear that Harvey Dent is the DA again?" he finally asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes," Batman replied, "He told me."

"I remember when the three of us – you, me and Dent – vowed to make Gotham a better place," sighed Gordon, staring out into the gloomy streets, "And now that he's back in the DA's office, it almost feels…"

But when he'd turned back to Batman, he was gone.

"…just like old times," he said to himself, before going back inside.

…

Harvey Dent pulled his car to a stop outside his house. He'd bought the very same house he'd used to live in back when he was last the District Attorney. Back before the accident. The place held many painful memories for him, but he still felt he had to live here again. Just another one of the many ways he tormented himself.

When Dent discovered the front door was unlocked, the first thought that flashed through his mind was that Gilda, his estranged ex-wife, had finally returned to him. But then he remembered that this was Gotham City, and this town trampled on dreams, crushed spirits, and sucked all the life out of any hope of a happy ending. So it was far more likely some burglars had broken into his house. Carefully, he opened the door, and crept inside. The living room lights were all on. Taking a deep breath, Dent walked in, and was shocked to find himself face to face with The Joker.

The Joker was sat back in the armchair in Dent's living room, his feet resting on the coffee table. His coat and hat had been slung over the sofa - he'd made himself right at home.

"Harvey, so good to see you," The Joker said, before theatrically gasping in horror, "But what happened to your face? Did you get surgery? Shame - that was always your good side! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The Joker threw his head back and burst into laughter.

"What do you want, Joker?" snapped Dent.

The Joker's laughter stopped, though his malicious smile remained.

"Ah, you're right, let's skip the foreplay, and get straight down to the dirty business."

The Joker tossed a file onto the coffee table. Harvey Dent eyed The Joker suspiciously, before picking it up. It was the phone records that showed Dent had contacted Brian, who the police now knew had broken The Joker out of Arkham.

"That's a copy, by the way. I have the original kept somewhere safe. I have to say, I don't know why you busted me out, but whatever the reason, I'm grateful, I assure you. But I need you to do something else for me..."

"I'm not going to help you!" shouted Dent.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" laughed The Joker, "Oh, but you will. That file shows that you contacted the man involved in my escape. Yeah, it isn't 100 proof, but face it - I don't need proof, all it needs is for someone to say you're corrupt, and you're through. People don't forgive easily. You're always going to be seen as Two-Face, no matter what you do. Everyone knows you're a psycho, so they assume that you're going to help other psychos. If this file finds its way to the press, you're done. Everything you've worked for will come collapsing around your ears! HAHA!"

Harvey Dent was silent for a moment. He'd despised The Joker since the first time they'd met, in this very room. The Joker had attacked him on Christmas Day, terrifying his wife. Dent had never forgotten that night, but he also couldn't forget that it was thanks to him The Joker was here right now, and the bastard could prove it. He took a deep breath, before closing his eyes and breaking his silence.

"What do you want?"

"Simple," said The Joker, hopping up to his feet, "I want you to ruin Bruce Wayne. You're the District Attorney; you have a lot of power. I want you to create some evidence that suggests Bruce Wayne isn't as squeaky clean as he seems. Implicate him in fraud, extortion, organised crime. And most importantly, I want you to make him seem like the man who is responsible for my escape. I want it to seem like me and Bruce are best buddies! HA HA!"

Dent felt his gut tightening. He was no fan of Bruce Wayne – he didn't appreciate rich kids who'd had everything handed to them their whole lives – but he didn't deserve to be framed for crimes he didn't commit. Dent's carefully laid out plans were falling apart. He'd wanted to help, but now he was being blackmailed into abusing the trust of those who had helped him regain the post of DA. But if he didn't do this, the betrayals he had already committed against them would be revealed, and he would be ruined all over again.

Be corrupt, and stay in a position to help people, or be honest, and lose everything? Dent couldn't decide. He would have to let the coin decide for him. He took it out and flipped it, feeling The Joker's mad eyes burning right through him the whole time. The coin landed scarred side up.

"Okay," he muttered, "I'll help you."

The Joker smiled.

"That's what I like to hear, old pal."

The Joker slung his arm around Dent's shoulder amiably. He leaned forward, whispering into Dent's ear.

"So, I think you should be...starting your investigation of Bruce Wayne. I'll be contacting you soon with details on the next step of our plan."

The Joker grabbed his coat and hat, and sauntered towards the door.

"I'll let myself out. Adios, Harv! HA HA!"

Sauntering down the street, away from Harvey Dent's home, The Joker was feeling very pleased with himself. Soon, Bruce Wayne would be disgraced, his reputation destroyed. Oh, the sweet irony of the famous crime-fighter being seen as little more than a common criminal!

But that was just the beginning. Oh, The Joker had a grand master plan, and it was only just starting to come together. But the pieces of the puzzle were slowly but surely falling into place. Once his masterpiece of destruction was complete, Batman would never be the same again.

"Oh, Brucie boy, you're going to have a really bad day! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"