Chapter 3

Bruce Wayne and Alfred watched the TV in silent dismay.

"You killed the lawyer, good for you Gotham," Rachel said in a flat unemotional tone of voice. "Welcome to my city, welcome to a world without rules." Above her was a handwritten sign saying, 'PRESS CONFERENCE: GOTHAM'S ACTING DA'. She was sitting in a chair, tied up, a burlap sack with eyeholes cut out covering her head. Off-screen, the Joker was chuckling appreciatively.

Rachel continued: "The game begins tonight. Those of you who don't want to play it my way, get out now. But don't take the bridges and tunnels, or you're in for a nasty surprise. Ha, ha, ha," she said mirthlessly. The Joker was laughing even louder now. The last thing on the screen was Rachel, slumping over, from exhaustion or defeat, they couldn't tell.

Bruce Wayne turned the TV off, silent in thought. "At least she's still alive," Alfred said softly.

"It's a threat, it's a threat… and a trap," Bruce Wayne said, more to himself than to Alfred.

He got up, pacing. "Rachel and the other people from the hospital, a hostage situation," he watched him carefully. "Do you have a plan, sir?"

He kept pacing. "I do." He did not elaborate.

Alfred got up. "Tell me what I need to do, Master Wayne."

He stopped pacing. Hesitating, he began: "You know how much I care about Rachel."

"Of course, sir."

"The Joker knows, too," Bruce Wayne said darkly. "He tried to use that against me, and if I hadn't have changed my mind at the last second, Rachel would be dead now." He paused. "He's got her, and he's going to use her again, I know it. Make me choose between her and others, hostages…" His voice trailed away, but the dilemma consuming him was clear: in that scenario, what should I do?

It was an agonizing thought: choose to save Rachel, or some hostages—perhaps many of them. Alfred carefully considered his next words: "If this monster puts you in a situation where someone will die no matter what happens, then that is on his black soul. Do not take the burden of his villainy upon yourself, sir."

Bruce looked back at him, an unreadable expression on his face, but Alfred could imagine what he was thinking: But…

Alfred continued: "But if it's a choice between Rachel, and many hostages…" He stopped, the pain of what he was trying to stay burning within, but he forced himself to go on: "…Batman must save as many lives as possible."

"In other words, sacrifice Rachel," Bruce said evenly.

Finding strength within, Alfred said: "Master Wayne, you and I both know what Rachel herself would say."

"I do." A pause. "I remember you said that Batman must be about more than revenge."

"Quite so."

Bruce closed his eyes. "Objectively, I should have saved Dent. Only he could have put an end to the mob through the law. Rachel was… expendable. But I chose to save her. And I did… at a terrible cost." He opened his eyes, staring intently at Alfred. "If I have to choose between her and someone else, I can't guarantee that I will do the right thing."

Part of Alfred wanted to hug Bruce, to reassure him everything would be ok. Another part wanted to slap him across the face to see reason. He is his own man, so treat him as one. "Whatever happens, Master Wayne," he started to say. Then he stopped, took a few steps towards Bruce. "Whatever happens, Bruce," making an effort to say his first name, "I will be with you whatever happens." He put his hand on Bruce's shoulder. "All I ask is that you consider the consequences of your actions."

Bruce's eyes opened with surprise when he called him by his first name; it appeared he took Bruce's breath away when he put his hand on his shoulder. A warm glow came to his eyes, then suddenly disappeared as he considered the import of Alfred's words. "All right." Bruce turned around and headed for the door.

"What's the plan, sir?" Alfred asked, all business.

"Finding him will be the easy part," Bruce said. "The hard part… well, you helped a lot."

"Good luck, sir."

"Thanks."

It's almost time.

In the darkness, Batman was climbing the complex across from the Prewitt Building, once again trying to keep the fear at bay.

Lucius—bless his moral heart—had agreed to use the phone surveillance device to triangulate the Joker's location. The tactical situation was daunting. Rachel's in there, along with dozens of hostages… and out on the water, thousands of lives hanging in the balance. It was worse than even Batman could have imagined.

Gotta think this through rationally, he thought, musing over the Joker's description of his little game. If one of the boats blows up the other, nothing you can do about it. He says we have till midnight. But when the police go in to rescue the hostages, chances are the Joker will blow them up straight away. Moreover, no doubt he's keeping Rachel close by, as his ace in the hole. Bruce shivered.

We have to cut off the head right away. But the Joker could be hiding anywhere inside. He took out his communicator: "Lucius, did you get the building specs?"

"They're on my screen now."

"I need to know where the Joker might be hiding inside. Figure he's on the side looking over the water. Can you narrow it down?"

"Working on it. I'll get back to you soon." It went dead. Batman continued climbing. When he reached the rooftop, the police had just arrived, beginning to set up a perimeter. Snipers were taking positions. There's something else, something I'm missing… But he couldn't think of it.

His communicator came to life. "Sir, unless they start using their phones I can't lock in." Batman silently swore. "But I was able to trace what floor the Joker was on when he phoned in the threat, and based on the plans, my guess is he's in the executive suite. There's only one elevator and stairwell in, so for SWAT entering from the roof or the ground it would take the longest to reach that location." The communicator now showed a schematic of the building. Quickly a plan came to mind: he would glide around the building, crash through the windows on the floor below, then go up the stairs…and deal with the Joker once and for all.

"Good work, Lucius. Standby." He turned off the communicator. In the mean time, the police appeared to be settled in. Batman strode forward. A police captain who Bruce did not recognize was in charge of things. "Is Gordon all right?" he asked.

The police captain was a pro, only showing a little surprise when he emerged from the shadows. "He's in intensive care, but should make a recovery." He gestured towards the Prewitt Building. "Thanks for the tip."

"What's the situation?"

"It's a hostage scenario, we've got clowns carrying guns watching over groups of hostages from the hospital," the captain said. "Most of them are on the near side, right by the windows—I don't get it, they're sitting ducks."

"There's something up," Batman said immediately. "It's never simple with the Joker, there's always a twist."

"Any ideas?"

Batman couldn't think of any. "Not at the moment. What's your plan?"

The captain turned away, looking back at the building with binoculars. "We've got SWAT teams waiting at the entrance, preparing to drop on the rooftop. We go in simultaneously, take out the gunmen, minimal losses."

"What about the Joker, do you have a fix on him?"

The captain fidgeted. "Uh, no."

"Don't worry, I do. Here's what we're going to do."

"Now wait a minute—"

Batman cut him off. "Get your teams in position, but don't enter yet." He handed the captain a signaling device. "When this goes on, send your men in. Tell them to be on the lookout for traps, tricks—anything. I'll take out the Joker and keep him from blowing up the ferries." As one, they all looked out to the waters, where the two ferries, motionless, were dimly lit against the dark night sky.

"The people on the boat won't pull the trigger themselves," Batman said confidently. Before the captain could argue otherwise, he continued: "There's no point in playing the Joker's game—who's to say they won't blow themselves up if they decide to blow up the other boat?" The other police looked stunned, as if they hadn't considered the possibility. "It'd be just like him," Batman growled. "We just have to make sure he doesn't blow them up himself."

"We better hurry, less than twenty minutes to midnight," the captain said. "Tell the teams to deploy," he said to an aide.

"Wait for my signal." Batman paused before spreading his gliderwings. "Good luck."

Batman soared through the night sky, circling around the building. It was going to be close—suddenly he realized he didn't have enough altitude. He was going to have to enter a floor below. At the last minute he collapsed the wings and covered his face as he slammed into the window. There was an awful shattering of glass, and the impact was like being in a car crash. But the impact had slowed his velocity, so he rolled to a quick stop inside the darkened building. Immediately he sprang to his feet, activating his night vision. There was no one around.

He turned on the communicator. "I'm in, give me a status report."

"Hold on. Here's the information." Instantly his vision was filled with shimmering images of the locations of the gunmen and hostages. None were in his immediate vicinity; most were concentrated on the other side of the building. This is easier than I thought. That made him worried. "Any sign of the Joker?"

"It's real faint, but here's something." The new information came in. Sure enough, two floors above him, a single figure paced about. Him. There were several other shapes, indistinct, moving about. Not human. It was time. Batman headed for the stairwell, then paused: there were booby-traps strewn across the steps. No time to disarm. He headed for the elevator shaft, which was clear.

Using his grappling gun, he fired it and began lifting himself into position. A quick check of the elevator doors showed no traps. Bracing himself, Batman activated the signal device and waited. Seconds later, off in the distance, he could hear dull booms. Showtime. He pulled the doors apart and leaped inside.

The floor was dark and unfinished, with building materials strewn everywhere. He turned up his sensors to full gain, seeking the Joker.

An invisible voice cackled: "Knock knock, who's there?" Batman wheeled about.

"Give me the detonator!" he screamed to the darkness.

Instead of a voice, several loud barks responded. Dogs? Immediately ahead he saw three large canines running towards him. They leaped at him, knocking him to the ground. As one locked its jaws around his left leg, he grabbed one dog by the head and hurled it back towards the elevator shaft. Yelping, its voice quickly faded away. Another dog had his right forearm, tugging viciously. Rolling on the ground, he smashed it in the eyes, which caused it to yelp and release. Now free, he began punching and kicking at the other dog, which released him and shrieked in pain. Before he could deal with the other dog, he was suddenly smashed by a hard metal pipe. Somewhere above him, the Joker was laughing maniacally. He struggled to his feet.

His sonar vision was either broken or sending him too much information; unable to see clearly, he switched it off. Now he was surrounded by darkness, but his sight had not yet adjusted to the dark. A dark shape moved at his feet; he stamped down, again and again. The dog collapsed, its ribcage broken. He pivoted frantically, trying to get a fix—

—something rammed into his left side, knocking him over. Again he was pummeled by the Joker, some of the blows hitting hard enough to bruise or break his own ribs. Ignoring the pain in his chest, Batman lashed out with his arms and legs. A well-placed boot hit home, sending the Joker sprawling away. Wearily he got to his feet, instinctively retreating into a defensive stance, but the Joker was scrambling away, heading towards the windows. Batman followed, emerging from the maze of unfinished walls into a large open space. The Joker was standing by an unfinished portion of the wall, the outside wind whipping through and tossing his hair madly in all directions. He held a detonator in his right hand and his left hand—

—Batman froze. At his side, barely able to stand, was a covered figure who could only be Rachel. Grinning, the Joker got behind her and pulled off the tarp covering her, lifting her to her feet. She was still dressed in a hospital gown, and the bandages on her face had been removed. He could see just well enough to see the hideous mass of scarring. The rest of her face had a haggard, exhausted look. She hung limply in his arms, as if drugged.

Suddenly, she kicked to life. "Batman, don't listen to him! Forget about me, just kill—"

"—Shh, shh," the Joker said, squeezing her throat. "I knew you'd come," the Joker resumed conversationally. Batman very slowly moved to one side, not approaching, then to the other. The Joker watched him but did nothing else in response. "Like me, you couldn't wait to see how it would turn out." He gestured out the window. "In a few minutes, we'll see what Gotham's citizens are truly made of."

"Give up," Batman growled. "You're surrounded on all sides. It's over."

"Not quite, my dear Batman. You hear that?" Batman thought he heard gunfire in the distance, although his head was ringing with pain that he couldn't be sure. "Your flat-footed friends in the police were shooting the wrong people. Appearances can be so deceiving, as you know."

What does he mean? Oh no—

"That's right, your brave SWAT teams just shot a whole bunch of doctors and nurses! Ha! While my men in scrubs 'scrubbed' them out. Hahahahaha!" The Joker tsk-tsked him. "You figured it out the first time, why didn't you help them connect the dots?"

Batman was furious at himself for underestimating the Joker again. If only I had scouted ahead of the police… But there was no time to recriminate. "If you don't surrender, you'll die."

"Everyone dies, Batman. Like I say, if you gotta go, go out in style!" Batman approached him; instantly the Joker held out the detonator. Rachel feebly tried to grab at it, but he tightened his hammerlock around her throat.

Batman was getting desperate. "Alright, you win." He stood up straight. "I surrender. I'll take off my mask if you just let Rachel and the people on the ferries go."

Reaching for the seals of his cowl, Bruce was completely surprised by the Joker's reaction of unbridled fury. "No, no, no, NO! You can't quit the game! Stop, stop right now or I'll kill her and blow them all up!" Batman stopped, for a moment unsure of what to do.

The Joker was still agitated, obviously trying to compose himself. After shaking his head a bit, he opened his eyes and smiled. "Okay, better. Now, getting back to where we were—ah, yes, the ferries." He grinned further, a most unpleasant sight. "Like I said, first I'll show you Gotham's true colors. Wanna make a bet? I bet it's the good people who strike first."

Batman's eyes darted to a wall clock: only a few minutes. "I'll take that bet," Batman said. "I bet when it's midnight, neither boat will blow up."

"You have a strange, misplaced faith in humanity," the Joker said derisively. "Did you learn it from the same place you learned how to beat up people—"

"—if I win, you let her go."

The Joker burst out laughing. "Oh really? You wanna wager? What do I get if I'm right?"

Batman did not hesitate. "A quick death."

"Not much of a prize." But the Joker stopped laughing. He asked shrewdly: "And what if I just decide to blow up both boats for the heck of it?"

Now Batman smiled. "I kill you slowly."

The Joker's eyes narrowed, then he nodded approvingly. "That's more like it. But I'm afraid your mask isn't as dark as you think." He looked down at Rachel and sniffed her hair, licking his lips. "Your little friend here has told me all about you. I know what makes you tick."

Rachel said, chokingly: "I didn't tell you anything, you crazy psycho—"

"—Damnit, you ruined the punchline of my joke!" He kneed her in the back, causing her to stagger. Batman clenched his fists, but did not approach. "Anyway, I can see your black heart, Batman. And it's not as black as mine. Not yet, anyway. But we'll see, won't we?"

"What do you mean?" Instantly he regretted saying anything.

Again the Joker gestured outside with the detonator. "This is all for your benefit." He sighed. "I know I wasn't much of a student—though in my defense, I did burn down my middle school when I was twelve—but you are absolutely the worst. You. Just. Won't. Learn!" He spat each word out for emphasis. "First, I showed you that these losers in Gotham would kill someone they didn't even know, someone who didn't hurt them at all, just because someone like me said they'd benefit from it."

"You'll pay for that," Batman said coldly.

"—not even a word of thanks, that's another problem of yours, ingratitude." The Joker shifted, backing up slightly. Batman took a step towards him. "So again I need to reinforce the lesson. How many people will die before you learn it this time?"

"No one's going to die on those ferries," Batman said resolutely, although he was beginning to worry.

"Are you deliberately this naive, or are you just plain stupid?" The Joker sounded angry again, no doubt incapable of believing anyone could have faith in people.

"He's more human than you'll ever be," Rachel sneered, which warmed Bruce's heart, even if it distracted Batman for a moment.

Suddenly, he then realized that more than a minute had passed since midnight. We'll see who's right about humanity now. A moment later, the Joker seemed to realize it too. He quickly glanced out, then at Batman, then out again. When he faced Batman, he had a slight frown, which stood out against his gaudy carved smile.

"Did you think people deep down were as ugly as you?" Batman said, with all the contempt he could muster. "You're the real joke."

The Joker's frown deepened. "You win some, you lose some," he murmured quietly. "That's chance, for you. Can't rig everything." He actually sounded unsure. The Joker then fell silent, which was as unnerving as anything he said. Finally he spoke: "Time for the final play."

"No more games," Batman said loudly, furiously. "Give up or die."

"You're not very good at this, are you?" the Joker said, his voice regaining confidence. "Never make a threat you can't carry out. You just did it twice; now I know you're all talk."

"Try me," Batman said in a low voice.

"You know, being a hero really sucks. Because you always have to do what other people think is right. Time for you, Batman, to stop playing games." Grinning, he quickly backed up to the window ledge, pushing Rachel halfway out with his right hand, and holding the detonator out with his left.

"No!" Batman cried.

"Yes," the Joker said. "You can either save Dent's two-timing, unfaithful little whore," he shook Rachel roughly, "or the thousands of people on both ferries. Now I know what a hero would do. What about you?"

"Don't worry about me!" Rachel cried. "Please, I don't matter! Save the others!"

"I'd listen to her if I were you," the Joker said with mock sympathy. "After all, skanks like her are a dime-a-dozen, and this one's damaged goods—"

—Batman leaped towards them. The Joker tossed Rachel and the detonator over the side, laughing hysterically.

Like at the fundraising party Batman did not allow himself any time to retaliate against the Joker—every second counted, the only way he could reach her was to leap out right behind. Ahead of him, Rachel was tumbling head over head; he did not hear her scream like she did before. Streamlining himself, he cut down on wind resistance and slowly gained on her. Seconds later, he had caught up to her, and extended his wings. Unlike before, he feared a sudden impact would kill her in her weakened state, so he deliberately steered towards the water, gliding as long as he could.

Moments later, they splashed down in the water. Gasping, Batman disengaged the cape lest it drag them down. They both stopped coughing up water when off in the distance a bright orange fireball illuminated the night sky. It took a deliberate act of will not to simply give in and allow himself to sink beneath the waves.

Wearily he asked: "Are you all right—"

"—I don't believe it, you let all those people die!" Rachel was suddenly alive, and shaking with rage.

Bruce's eyes were moist, and not just from the water. "I couldn't risk you dying, I love—"

"—don't dare, don't you dare say you love me!" Rachel pounded at him with her fists, then pushed him away. "I don't know you anymore! I thought you—this—was about helping people! It was all a lie! All you care about is your own selfish desires." She was crying, screaming, choking with rage, fury, pain.

He swam to her. "Rachel, I'm sorry—"

"—yeah, easy to say sorry with all your money, your ego!" She started to gurgle. "I hate you, Bruce Wayne, Batman, whatever you are! I hope you die—no! I hope you live to be a hundred, and every night you see all those people you killed in your dreams. I hope they tear your heart to pieces, you monster, you, you bastard, you—" Her voice trailed away.

"Rachel? RACHEL!" Bruce came up to her; she had become unconscious, from exhaustion, blood loss, or shock, he didn't know. Gently he put her on his back and began swimming to shore. His body ached everywhere, and his limbs were heavy as iron. But he would gladly endure all the physical pain he felt, all the pain he had endured in his crimefighting career to date, if it could have drowned out the memory of those words. Hateful words. Angry words…

…true words.

What seemed like hours later, a police boat cutting through the darkness came upon them. They lifted her aboard first, then himself. Batman watched the personnel care for the still-unconscious Rachel.

"Which ferry blew up? I only saw one."

"The civilian one," the driver said grimly. "We've found a few survivors, but the rest…" His voice trailed away. They rode back to the docks in silence.

Ashore, Batman watched them medevac Rachel away. Carefully dodging his way through the mass of public officials trying to deal with the catastrophe, he finally ran into the captain, who looked like he aged fifty years overnight.

Stepping into a quiet alleyway, he whispered: "The Joker got away. We found a dead SWAT member missing his uniform, he must have sneaked off during the confusion."

Batman was too exhausted, too broken, to care at the moment. But he felt an overwhelming need to confess: "The Joker told me he disguised the hostages in clown masks, and vice-versa," he said, admitting the screwup.

The captain's face became hard and grim. "It was a disaster. We must have killed at least fifteen hostages, then another dozen SWAT members dead or wounded. You warned us, we should have been more careful—"

"—No, it's my fault," Batman said. "I didn't figure it out until too late."

"What happened up there? For a few minutes, we thought you'd done it, and then…" His voice was frustrated, angry, but above all exhausted.

"The Joker tossed Miss Dawes and the detonator out the window simultaneously. I thought I could get them both, but I couldn't." That was another lie that only the Joker would know to be true. The lies are coming quicker and easier each time. It was another connection he had with the Joker that he would do anything to be without.

The captain didn't seem inclined to press the issue. "Well, you tried. I hope Gordon recovers soon, God knows what we do now."

"I hope so, too." The captain looked at him quizzically, as if expecting more. He then shrugged and mumbled, 'Good night', leaving him alone in the night.

Fifteen minutes later he was back at the Batpod and heading home. Over and over a single word filled his mind, as inescapable as it was undeniable:

Failure...