"How's it coming, Captain Gordon?" asked Bruce Wayne, arriving at the police station the next day.
"Not good," sighed Gordon. "We're getting nowhere. No one will give up any information on Ivy's boyfriend. No one will even admit she has one. One of the guys we arrested, Nygma, said it was him, but he's clearly not the guy we're looking for."
"Have you questioned them all thoroughly?" asked Bruce.
"I'm not sure what you mean, Mr. Wayne," said Gordon, puzzled.
"I mean used every method at your disposal," said Bruce, quietly.
Gordon looked at him. "You mean…beat 'em? We're really not supposed to do that, Mr. Wayne…"
"Sometimes to help the law, you've got to break the law," interrupted Bruce. "And if they won't give up this guy voluntarily, what else do you suggest we do? Let them go back out there to rob and kill more innocent people? I'd rather knock a few criminals around than let them get away with hurting others."
"Look, Mr. Wayne, my job's already on the line because of my actions," murmured Gordon. "Going against the corruption and the bribery – people are looking to get rid of me. I can't give them a reason to fire me like that…"
"Then let me do it," said Bruce. "And if they ask, deny all knowledge. That's what they do."
"You really want to sink to their level?" asked Gordon, gently.
Bruce shrugged. "I call it evening the odds. We're outnumbered in this battle, Jim – the only way we can win it is by fighting a little dirty. But I will never sink to their level," he muttered, heading into the interrogation room. "I will never take a life."
Seated at the table was the man Bruce loathed most in all the world, Jack Napier, looking his usual smug, superior self as he propped his legs up on the table, casually smoking a cigarette. The man was a murderer, with no sense of guilt, and no remorse for his crimes. He deserved worse than a beating, thought Bruce as he glared at him, and as Jack smiled broadly back.
"Morning, Brucie!" he said, cheerfully. "Lovely day, isn't it?"
"You're very chipper for a man who spent a night in the cells," muttered Bruce.
Jack shrugged. "Well, what does a guy like me have to be unhappy about?"
"You're under arrest," pointed out Bruce.
"I have faith that this little misunderstanding will be cleared up in no time at all," said Jack, grinning and puffing on his cigarette. "Anyway, it's just a little blip in my happiness, when I got so many other things to be grateful for. I got my health, I got an incredible doll, I got a home, and a job, and I earn a decent living…"
"Doing what, Mr. Napier?" asked Bruce.
"I already told the cops," replied Jack with a smile. "Insurance. I sell insurance."
"You wouldn't have any knowledge about a certain bank robbery at Gotham National a few nights ago, would you?" asked Bruce, casually.
Jack chuckled. "Why would an insurance salesman know anything about that?"
"Because you're a liar," growled Bruce, leaning forward. "I know you were there – I saw you there."
Jack grinned. "Oh. You're the one who survived!" he chuckled, leaning back and puffing on his cigarette. "I knew you looked familiar!"
"So you admit it?" demanded Bruce.
"Don't think I admitted anything, sport!" chuckled Jack. "The story was in the paper – they mentioned there was a survivor, and printed your picture. I was just trying to place where I'd seen you before."
"You can't just admit it, can you, you filthy piece of criminal scum?" demanded Bruce. "You can't tell the truth, for once in your life!"
Jack tapped out his cigarette into the ashtray. "Well, what is the truth, really, Brucie?" he laughed. "When there are so many versions of the truth out there. Might as well pick the version you like best. People wear a lotta different masks, and no one is ever who you think they are, so why be obsessed with just one truth? Life is so much simpler when you just go with the flow and play whatever role you want, whichever role strikes your fancy at the time. Like a game, or a joke. You just gotta not take it all so seriously all the time."
"I shouldn't take the murder of innocents seriously?" demanded Bruce. "Real pain and human suffering I should just treat like some stupid game or joke, is that what you're saying?"
"That's what I'm saying," agreed Jack with a chuckle. "I mean, think about it. You know we're all criminals – you've got proof, and the evidence of your own eyes, but you can't touch us. You gotta admit, Brucie – that is pretty funny!"
He laughed, and Bruce seized him around the collar, slamming his fist into his jaw. "Tell me who's protecting you!" he roared. "Tell me his name!"
"Aw, he's angry!" laughed Jack, raising his head and smiling at him through bloodied teeth. "And he's so scary when he's angry! Really, I'm shaking in fear, Brucie!" he giggled. "You think I can't take a beating?"
"Not like mine," growled Bruce, cracking his fist across his face and hearing Jack's nose break.
"Yeah, you're good for never having fought a day in your life, rich boy!" chuckled Jack, still grinning through the blood pouring from his nose. "But I think you can do better with practice! C'mon, is that all you got? Try harder! Gimme your best shot!"
He kept laughing, and Bruce grew furious, grabbing him by the hair and slamming his face into the table repeatedly. "Tell me!" he roared. "Tell me his name!"
"What the hell is going on in here?!" demanded Harvey Dent, entering the room suddenly with Commissioner Loeb and Captain Gordon. "Why is a civilian even in this room, and why is he being allowed to manhandle the prisoner?!"
"Gordon, answer him!" snapped Loeb.
"No idea, sir," muttered Gordon. "One of the men on duty must have not been paying attention…"
"Get me his name and fire him!" snapped Loeb. "Mr. Napier, you have my sincerest apologies on behalf of the GCPD for this horrible breach of conduct – is there anything we can do to make it up to you?"
Jack chuckled, wiping away the blood. "Maybe another smoke."
"Allow me," said Dent, handing Jack a cigarette from his case and lighting it for him.
"Gordon, I want an explanation!" demanded Loeb. "Not just for this, but for the raid on the Arkham Club!"
"We were tipped off that the club was illegally selling alcohol, sir…" began Gordon.
"But you didn't find any alcohol on the premises, did you, Gordon?" demanded Loeb.
Gordon shared a look with Bruce. "Did you?" repeated Loeb, his eyes flashing dangerously.
"No…sir," stammered Gordon.
"No. So you've kept all its patrons in jail overnight in this huge waste of taxpayer money!" shouted Loeb.
"The voters of this city will not be pleased, Commissioner," said Dent. "If the police arrest and detain everyone without probable cause, the public will turn on them, and there will be chaos in Gotham. You don't want chaos, do you?" he asked, lighting up his own cigarette.
"No, Mr. Dent, I don't," agreed Loeb. "I can only apologize to you, and to Mr. Napier, and to everyone who was wrongly arrested last night. Rest assured Captain Gordon will face strong disciplinary action for acting without my permission and against my orders. And of course you, Mr. Napier, and all your fellow patrons will be released at once, with our sincerest apologies."
"Well, no harm done!" chuckled Jack, wiping more blood from his face. "Won't be pressing charges against the cops or anything – I ain't that kinda guy. Forgive and forget, that's me. If only some of us in this room were so enlightened!" he sighed, smiling at Bruce.
Dent helped Jack to his feet while Bruce glared at him, and then his gaze shifted to Dent. And he remembered suddenly that Ivy had mentioned the name Harvey while he was on the phone with Selina. Harvey Dent. If he was Ivy's boyfriend who was protecting the criminals…then Gotham was rotten to the core, all the way to City Hall. Could the corruption in Gotham really be that high up? He didn't want to believe it, but now that the suspicion was planted, it wasn't going away…
"Commissioner Loeb, I have eyewitness evidence that Mr. Napier was involved in the robbery at Gotham National," Bruce snapped.
"Oh yes? Who is your witness?" asked Loeb, looking at him skeptically.
"Me," retorted Bruce. "I'd be willing to testify in court…"
"Mr. Wayne, we've already seen that you bear Mr. Napier a grudge," interrupted Dent. "Your testimony would be worse than useless, completely biased as it is. And who would believe the word of a man who goes around beating up innocent men for no reason?"
"He's not innocent!" hissed Bruce. "He's a murderer, and a thief…"
"You have no proof of that," interrupted Dent. "Our justice system, in case you were unaware, Mr. Wayne, is based on the premise of innocent until proven guilty. And the District Attorney's office, and the police department, has no proof of Mr. Napier's involvement in any criminal activity. Therefore he is a free man, and free to go. You may not like it, but that's the law."
"That's the law!" repeated Jack, with a laugh. "And the law is paramount in this city, ain't it?"
He passed Bruce and blew out a cloud of smoke into his face. "Welcome to Gotham, Brucie boy!" he murmured, grinning.
Bruce glared after them, shaking in rage, and then turned and stormed from the police station without another word. It was all clear to him now. If he wanted justice, he couldn't depend on the police. He would have to take the law into his own hands.