Author's Note- can't thank everybody enough for the reviews! Honestly, they make my day. I hope everybody enjoys this chapter, sadly it doesn't have the Joker but don't worry- he'll feature really heavily in the next two chapters coming up! They should actually be published quite soon since I've written half of them already and I have my Easter Break coming up in a week- yes, why it's after Easter Sunday makes no sense to me either. As always enjoy.

Chapter Four- Hail Caesar

(Third Person)

Roman Sionis sat rigid in his plump leather chair within his office. Half a glass of thirty year old Glenfiddich was held tightly in his right hand, which lay stiffly on his arm rest.

Truth be told, he hated whiskey- it's flavour was overpowering and it's stale aroma lingered on his palate for hours after a mere sip. But he liked for his enemies and acquaintances- Sionis didn't have friends- to believe he was a man of taste. All of Gotham's elite pretended to be expert connoisseurs, they believed that was why they were above the rest of the people in the city. But Sionis knew no level of appreciation for art or culture could separate the rich from the poor- that deep down they were all made of the same wretched filth.

He'd grown up mimicking all of Gotham's elite; by birth, he was a part of their prestigious order. Like the rest of them, wearing a metaphoric mask to fit in had become second nature. Only these days, he preferred to don a real mask. It seemed fitting to him. Everybody wore masks to pretend to be who they weren't, only Sionis was done with pretending. He wore a mask for irony. He knew that the whole of society was made up of falseness and lies, wearing an actual mask was a constant reminder of it. He no longer felt the need to pretend, he no longer felt the need to conform. And that freed him to do anything and everything.

Still, he liked to drink expensive liquor- if only to further mock them.

Somebody could have swapped his drink for a glass of vinegar he wouldn't have noticed, Sionis actually may have even preferred it. But there was something appeasing about contemplating the day's events with whiskey at hand, it had become methodical to him. He could spend hours on end staring at the dark Ebony wooden wall before him- the same wood that made up his parents coffin and his mask. He'd stare at the dark wood, that glimmered black and he would plan his next tactical move.

As a child he had enjoyed chess, now he lived for it- he was the best player on the board.

Unlike the other Bosses, Sionis knew that no piece were more important than the others in chess. Falcone had made the mistake of underestimating the importance and collective power of his pawns. Especially given that all pawns have the potential to travel to the other side of the board and get promoted to queens- the most powerful piece in the game. This was evident when Falcone had misjudged Jonathan Crane, who Falcone had viewed as one of his many pawns. That mistake was costly, look where it got Falcone in the end- in a barred cell with six inch cushioned padding.

Maroni, now he had been a great player. Roman thought if anyone could bring his empire down to its knees, it may have been him. But alas, Maroni miscalculated the white knight on the other side of the table. The white knight who, only people in the criminal underworld knew, went dark- the knight who went by the name of Harvey Dent.

Nobody had heard what had happened to Maroni since his car accident, his body hadn't ever been recovered from the wreckage. Everybody believed Maroni was either dead, or in hiding since Jim Gordon had enough evidence to lock him away for good now. But Sionis took the missing body as an indication that Maroni was recovering and plotting a comeback. In Sionis' locked top drawer, he had a memory stick full of files containing all the counter attack strategies to deploy if this was the case. In all his years watching the rise and fall of leaders, Sionis knew it was better to be safe than dead.

Maroni had been a King in Gotham's criminal underworld, but like many Kings his reign had been brief and short. Gotham no longer required a Monarch, they needed an Emperor. And with the name of Roman, Sionis was born to conquer.

Sionis took another sip of his drink and savoured its stale taste, feeling its warmth travel down into his cold heart. Only one person had the ability to unthaw it, and that one person was ironically Joe Chill's little girl.

Years ago, Joe had called Sionis up to help deal with his dead wife. At the time Sionis had only been a minor league player in the underworld, but he had been minor league by choice. Roman wanted to test the waters before he would take the irreversible plunge into to sea of crime which swept through Gotham like a tidal wave. Sionis had developed a plan to start his pursuit by going unnoticed by the big Bosses, Sionis would begin benign but like an undetected cancer, Sionis was going to spread until he was an incurable threat.

When Roman had gone to Chill's house, he had gone with a pistol in his back pocket.

He had planned to check if the woman was really dead- Joe was so stupid Roman wouldn't take his word for it without proof- and then Roman had planned to blast four lead bullets right into the back of Joe's head. The bitch had secretly been screwing Sionis behind her husband's back, and although Roman frankly didn't give a shit about her, he was not pleased to lose out on a fuck buddy. Especially one that could ride as hard and as good as her. To Sionis, no matter how insignificant the item- nobody took his belongings away from him.

But it wasn't Joe who had opened the door, it was a small porcelain child.

Her blonde hair was tied up into two different coloured scrunchies, unevenly at opposite sides of her head, and her wide innocent blue eyes stared up at him- curious to who the stranger in her home was. Joe had been too busy frantically scrubbing the stained blood off the floorboards to notice the violent pounds at the door which shook some of the plaster off of the cheap walls, so the little girl decided to answer the call.

Roman didn't realise that two people with rotten cores were capable of producing such a perfect angel- his parents had produced the Devil himself. What he did know, however, was that this angel wasn't going to stay good for very much longer. After witnessing your own father murder your mother, she was bound to have a twisted interior.

Yet still, unknowingly to her and her father, this little girl saved his life. Her trusting eyes thawed at Roman's icy heart, and he knew he wasn't going to allow her to witness the death of her other parent on the same night. He didn't want to be the person to shatter that sweet naiveté, and watch it drain away from her eyes forever. Too many people in The Narrows had broken-down, dead zombie eyes, Sionis would make certain that the girl keep her's bright for that little extra longer. Even if an extra longer was only going to result in being a few extra weeks.

So instead of following through his original plan, Sionis helped clear up the mess in the dingy apartment and tied up loose ends to make sure nobody went looking for Mrs Chill. Not that that was likely. Despite the constant arrests, the Police let The Narrows run themselves, thinking it was already all going to hell. In their eyes, all the crime being concentrated in one area was a good thing- it meant that the more affluent parts of Gotham could flourish, protected from the violence that rampaged through the streets just a few blocks away. Their arrests were only done to make sure that the people of The Narrows didn't get too out-of-hand, and feel they had the power to get an expansion of their area. Gotham was ruled by two groups- the GCPD, and the Mobs. It was paramount, for both sides, that no lowlife stepped out of line for this hierarchy to remain intact.

The lack of concern for The Narrows meant Mrs Chill wouldn't even get a mention in the Papers about her missing appearance. When a Stripper didn't show up for work even for a shift, it was immediately presumed she had died. Their bosses wrote it down that they had quit or been fired to save phoning the cops about the missing persons. A visit from the cops only meant that they'd be seen as Rats, and would be untrusted by the whole of the community. This was problematic for all parties involved: the Police actually had to do their job, and the owner would no doubt lose out on customers as well as Strippers- especially since most Strippers in The Narrows did a little extra work on the side, just to help boost their already low income.

Roman even deposited the body for Joe, he rolled it into a carpet and got his men to drop it into the river where all the other Un-notified Missing Persons were laid to rest. Secretly he was impressed at the strength that Joe Chill had demonstrated on his dead wife's carcass. Although Chill was weak mentally he certainly wasn't physically, his wife's face was almost unrecognisable from the previous on-set of heavy punches. In a way, it was better that Mrs Chill died- no man would have willingly touched her if she had lived through the beating, and that would have been her whole livelihood gone.

Despite the hidden sliver of respect, Sionis charged Joe Chill $5000 for his services. After all, he had killed one of his favourite whores.

Joe, judging from the squalor he lived in, obviously didn't have the cash. It was something Roman knew, he wanted Chill to be indebted to him. It was how he was working his way gradually up the ranks, through favours. A simple favour owed could go a long way, Chill would've been better off if he had dealt with the issue himself- something Chill realised in all his years cooped up in a tiny cell.

An idea had weaved itself into Sionis' head as he poured bleach onto the cracked tile flooring whilst Joe was occupied hysterically scratching the dried blood from his hands, an idea so great Sionis had nearly laughed when he came up with it. He had found a way to kill two birds- or in this case, three- with one stone.

Every minute of every day in the past year, Roman Sionis had spent raging about the Wayne Family. But his fury had now escalated from simmering to boiling hot.

The Wayne's had taken control over his cosmetic company since the accident which had involved him pushing forward an untrialed product, which resulted in many high society woman's faces becoming disfigured. The money from the law suits had caused him to go into debt, forcing him to look for more adventurous- meaning illegal- ways to make a living, which resulted in Sionis owning the vast majority of the whore houses in The Narrows. But all that work to combat the law suits had been in vain, given that the Wayne Family had now legally bought over his entire company.

Despite Roman not knowing anything about cosmetics, the business had been his pride and joy- the only legitimate enterprise he owned which he had inherited from his deceased parents. After the signing of the documents which handed all his power to the Wayne's, Roman had made a secret pact within himself for revenge. Now he could fulfill that promise. Again, nobody took what was his.

So it was Sionis who planted the idea into Joe's head that a robbery of some rich couple would probably raise the money needed within a single day. He even told Joe about the Opera in town, and the convenient dark lane which the Wayne Family always parked their car. Something he knew well, having tailed their car now for months trying to memorize all of their routines, readying himself for his fatal strike.

And this would be it. Sionis was well aware of the outcome of the planned robbery.

Joe Chill was notorious for being the jitteriest crook in The Narrows. It was the reason nobody trusted him to be on Lookout given he had a past history for fleeing from the scene on the first signs of trouble, fleeing without first warning his crew. Sionis knew that if he supplied a gun to Chill, there was no way Joe would leave the scene without at least firing it once. Thus securing the Wayne's fate, and Joe's own.

Roman had decided he wouldn't be the one to break the little girl's innocence, but he could allow for her father to do it. After all, growing up within The Narrows, it was bound to happen sooner or later, and Roman wasn't the one pulling the trigger- quite literally.

Chill, like the good pawn he was, played right into Roman's hand. He was arrested with two counts of murder.

Sionis celebrated that night, surrounding himself with whores and booze. Although he was impressed by the man's strength, he had come to think of Joe as a pest, and in The Narrows- the weakest of the lot had a habit of getting eradicated like the vermin they were. After the party however, he had been left with a bitter taste in his mouth which wasn't from all the cheap alcohol he consumed (he wasn't willing to waste his expensive drink on common prostitutes who wouldn't even pretend to appreciate its flavour) - his thoughts had turned to the small girl in the Hallway. She was probably all alone in that disgusting apartment, still waiting for her father to return from his night out.

Sionis, as always, was right.

When he entered the flat she was sat crossed legged, asleep, a few feet in front of the door. She was so tired she hadn't awoken even when he nudged her with his toe, she'd only fallen to the floor still fast asleep- it would have been comical if it weren't for the situation at hand. Roman let her sleep, knowing it was going to be difficult enough telling the girl she'd likely never see her father again, and watched over her until she woke up hours later.

"It's you again." She stated rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Roman was slightly surprised that she remembered him, it had been at least three weeks since their first, and only, short encounter.

"Listen Kid, you got anywhere else to stay?" His voice was rough from the cigarettes and booze the night before, Sionis didn't know if his raging hangover could take a hysterical child.

"The Morrison's downstairs sometimes take care of me."

An elderly couple directly below Chill's flat had taken the little girl in a few times when her mother was out for days on end, and her father was too drunk to move off the couch. They loved that girl like the child they'd never had, and worried every night about her welfare- hearing her father's drunken stumbles on the ceiling above. Mr Morrison even accompanied her to school every day, just to be certain she got there safely; there were all sorts of low-life scum living in The Narrows.

"Great, Kid."

Roman walked off leaving the child yet again alone to speak to the Morrison's of the current circumstance. They were the ones who suggested that the girl stayed with them- concerned that the Police would want to put her into Care. Even the scum of the streets were disgusted by the horror stories that came out of the Care Homes in Gotham. Sionis was more than satisfied that they'd look after her. He hadn't needed to bribe them, they had voluntarily offered. Roman thought that the Morrison's were perhaps the only decent people he'd ever meet from The Narrows, he'd never met anybody who was willing to do something without a string attached. So although Sionis was satisfied, he didn't like them. Their ability to be naturally moral humans only caused him to loath them, he forever would be unadmittedly jealous that what came so easily to them was impossible to him.

The only thing he had left to do was to tell the little girl she'd never see her dad again.

Mrs Morrison had refused. Apparently she didn't want the girl to associate them with the incrimination of her father as would make the transition with living with them much harder. Sionis had scoffed, not believing that psychological bullshit, but still agreed he'd be the one to tell her- allowing the Morrison's to swoop in to comfort her, thus creating some 'nurturing association with them' or some shit like that. Sionis only agreed because his headache was making it too painful to argue with some high pitched old hag.

When Roman entered the flat again the little girl was standing in the centre of the hallway, clutching onto her Elmo teddy thinking it would bring her bravery. Roman was tempted to turn on his heel and force the Morrison's to deal with the whole situation. Despite being born into richness, Sionis had never been blessed with nobility. It was her unwavering eyes which fixed him into staying.

"Where's Daddy?" Her voice was calm, and her eyes were still steadily holding his gaze. Nobody could stand looking Sionis in the face for long periods of time; his eyes were dull from the lack of feelings, his face was either blank and unreadable or morphed into a twisted grimace of rage. Somebody once had said that a dead corpse showed more emotion than Roman, and they may have been right with that. But the little girl didn't shy away from staring him down, making his intrigue grow further. She was a peculiar thing.

Sionis crouched down to talk to her, he didn't know how to speak with kids so he was mimicking the ways cops do it on the TV and in Movies. He half wished he had shown up with a whole speech prepared, that way at least his words would be poetic and memorable- not that the little girl would ever forget the next words that came out from his mouth.

"Your dad got sent away, for a long time. The Morrison's said they'd take care of you now."

She blinked slowly but she held the stare, she had seen right through the euphemism he'd used. Everybody at her Kindergarten knew what 'sent away' meant, a third of their parents had been taken in by the pigs.

"What he get locked up for?" She didn't beat around the bush.

"He tried to rob a few people, but it went wrong."

Sionis was beginning to find her watchfulness unnerving. The same Sionis who could deal with hard-core gangsters and The Mob, was getting unhinged by a little four year old girl.

"What happened?" Her voice was still calm, although her grip on Elmo had tightened. A trail of cotton wool threatened to pour out of a rip in Elmo's arm, Chill had stumbled across the toy in the gutter after a night out at the Bar. He tried to pass it off as new but the little girl knew better. Still, she loved the present because it was the first present she had ever been given from him and that made it special.

Sionis paused, "He shot at them."

"They dead?" She didn't hesitate with the question, it was as if it was automatic. The little girl didn't even seem surprised.

Inside Roman started to wish she had cried, he figured that most children and adults would have sobbed finding out their loved ones are in jail. Her neutrality and intense questions were really creeping him out. Roman was starting to understand why so many people feared talking to him, this little girl was giving him a dose of Karma. If she carried on this attitude, she'd grow to be a formidable woman.

"Yeah."

The little girl nodded, processing the information.

Sionis rose from his crouched position, suddenly having a need to get away from the small child who was so composed. He felt if her hands had held a knife rather than a teddy, he'd be dead.

"Who'd he kill?" Her gaze rose again to meet his.

"The Wayne's."

She nodded again slowly, and spoke her voice cold and detached- "I'll kill the rest of that family myself."

And with that one sentence, Sionis knew his instincts had yet again been right- she was special.

So Sionis took a backseat, and watched her life progress before his eyes.

Throughout her life, she had managed to keep her wide-eyed look which Sionis had originally mistaken as naïveté which in reality was pure, unadulterated insanity. Seeing her mother be killed by her own father, a person she idolised completely despite all his flaws, had indeed messed her up. Unfortunately for her, she was good at hiding her craziness behind an innocent front. If her twisted mind had been caught early on, she wouldn't have become the messed up person she was today. But Sionis, the only person who realised she was sick as a child, didn't tell anybody.

That was because Roman Sionis was sick himself.

He grew up rich and isolated, with a family that hated him- the one thing they hated more than him, however, was the Wayne's; jealous of their power and influence. One day, Sionis finally cracked and killed them all, evidently their love for hating others had been passed down through genetics. The only thing that bound him to his dead parents were his loathing of the Wayne Family and the cosmetic company, which had been stolen from him. But now, somebody else wanted them all dead just as much as he did. Roman decided he'd allow the girl the pleasure of killing the remaining Wayne when she grew up. It would be his testament to her given that he had caused the undoing of her father.

But the Morrison's years of love and nurture had made her go weak. And although she was still twisted inside as an adult, she no longer felt the need for revenge. So Sionis was forced to improvise.

Roman had heard whispers down the grape vine that Joe Chill was planning on turning on his cellmate Falcone for parole. It was all so Chill could meet with his grown up daughter, who he hadn't seen in nearly fifteen years. Almost two decades on the inside had made him realise the important things on life which he had taken for granted- or seen as a liability- when he was young and reckless.

Sionis choose to, yet again, sell Joe down the river by convincing him that the decision was good, and that the Mob wouldn't retaliate with the rise of Maroni. All of that was utter bullshit. The GCPD and Mob were more alike than anybody could imagine, turn on one of their own and they crashed down upon you like an avalanche.

Sionis waited one whole year later to tell the girl, now a woman, that it was really the remaining Wayne who had killed her father. He knew that you should never rush a good plan. He wanted that hatred to fester again, and he knew it would rot her insides out. Especially since she no longer felt the comfort or love from the Morrison's who had died the same day as her father from a 'small boiler accident'. A little pipe bomb was all it took for Sionis to get them out of the picture.

When he had told her, he had thought she was going to make the same promise she had done as a child. But yet again she surprised him- she didn't. The woman left silently, and that night she slit her wrists.

If it hadn't been for Sionis' men posted on a roof to watch her actions through her open curtains, she would have bled to death. Her body probably wouldn't have been found for two weeks, when the landlord made his monthly rounds for rent. The girl, like Sionis, didn't have any friends. By the time she was found, the maggots and rats would have already gotten to her. They would have eaten away at her delicate features, they would have made her as ugly as the souls of the people in the city.

But Sionis didn't see her attempted suicide as a failure of his plan, he saw it as a victory. If she was willing to kill herself, soon she'd perhaps be willing to kill others too- but more specifically Bruce Wayne. His original plan would follow through.

He toasted his glass to the empty room to that.

What he didn't know was that the Joker had helped the woman see through Sionis' scheme. And it wasn't Bruce she was willing to kill- it was Sionis, himself.

And like Emperor Caesar had been assassinated, the girl was more than ready to stab the bastard to death.