Chapter 6

Batman forced himself to remain calm but alert as he soared up into the heights. It was by now almost routine, climbing up into the heavens through the use of his grappling gun, but even the slightest mistake would mean he would tumble to an ignominious death below. Occasionally as he climbed faces would spot. Only a few times did they ever try to oppose him; he had dealt with them, appropriately. Others would cheer; he had no time to respond. Most just stared in astonishment, the reaction he preferred.

There was a definite routine to climbing, one which he struggled not to rush through as he traveled to his rendezvous with Gordon at the top of the Maclaughlin Building. He was not under any strict deadline—1AM would do—but the urgency of the crisis before drove his every move, both as Bruce Wayne and Batman. Above all, a very personal drive to finish what he started gave him greater determination than he had ever known, but not necessarily greater wisdom.

The Joker is as smart as you are, maybe smarter. The only way to beat him is not to fall into the traps he's laid out before you. It was a bitter thing to consider how often the Joker outsmarted him in recent days; he could not afford to let that happen again, even once.

He worried intensely about Rachel's safety; the Joker knew of his feelings for her, and could always strike him that way. His calculations were now complicated by Rachel's… interesting viewpoint of what she wanted him to do. Kill the Joker? There were times when I wanted to do that, but I always declined. He also knows that's a line I won't cross, will undoubtedly take into account in his future plans.

Batman then realized that Rachel was still suffering from the effects of what had been done to her, and the death of Harvey Dent. When we capture the Joker, she'll realize that killing him wouldn't be the right thing to do. After all, she had taught him that lesson with Chill; surely she would not ignore it in this case.

We can be together if the Joker is defeated, she had intimated. It was exactly what he wanted! And yet… I feel guilty at the idea. She loved Harvey; wouldn't I always be second in her mind and heart? And haven't I caused her enough pain? She would definitely be better off without me, in case someone else learned the truth…

While those words were logical, they were also painful in a way kicks and punches could never be. First I wanted her, then she didn't want me. Now she wants me, but I'm not sure I want her—not because I don't want her, but because I think she's better off without me.

The Batman sighed. Once she's in her right mind, not only will she forget all that stuff about wanting to kill the Joker, she'll want to move on. For him, the only thing that mattered was stopping the Joker, before he ruined anymore lives. We can all agree on that!

He raced up the last of the exterior stairwells and onto the roof. In the distance, through the darkness he saw a single solitary figure. Batman ran towards him.

Propping himself up with a cane, Commissioner Gordon nodded as he came up besides him.

"Evening, Commissioner," Batman said.

"Still getting used to the title myself."

"You wear it well."

"Thank you. High praise indeed."

"How are you feeling?"

Gordon shifted his weight, which caused him to wince. "I've been worse, but not much."

"We've got a problem."

"No kidding. If I never see another circus clown, it'll be too soon."

"I screwed up," Batman said reluctantly, but without hesitation. "More than once. Dent's dead because of me. All those people on the ferry. Your SWAT men."

"You did save Dawes."

Did I? "I don't know if I'm the right guy anymore," he confessed. "You may have been right, we've been hit by escalation." For the second time, he decided to lay all his cards on the table, before someone he trusted: "If you say so, I'll step aside for good." The last time I made that offer, Dent decided to stick with me. What will Gordon do, now that it's all gone to hell?

"The thought… had crossed my mind." Batman winced internally. "Maybe the fight is hardest just before the end. We had them on the run, then they turned to the Joker. It's not like they could get anyone worse, could they?"

"I don't think so." I hope not.

"You got any leads? You found him the last time."

"No, he's gone to ground." And I promised Lucius not to use the surveillance net anymore. Not that it would have worked much longer; I have to assume the Joker has figured out how I tracked him down by now. "We're back at square one."

Gordon sighed and rubbed his forehead. "Then we'll have to do it the old-fashioned way: good old police work."

Batman hated to do so, but he had no choice but to bring it up: "What about the bent cops who helped the Joker? Have you got them all?"

Gordon frowned. "We're definitely onto them. But I admit, I don't trust everyone. Not nearly."

Batman nodded. "Use the men you trust personally, and no one else."

"And what are you going to do?"

"Do I have a green light?"

"Yep. Greener than green."

"I don't follow."

Gordon did not answer right away. In the darkness, he looked troubled. "If you caught the Joker, got him in your grip, what would you do?"

Tear him to little pieces. Batman closed his eyes and bit his lip. "He'll probably be worse for the wear by the time I brought him down," he admitted, refusing to say anymore.

"Would you put him down for good?"

"I don't kill." For now…

Gordon nodded. "I think that's the right call."

Now Batman was troubled. Trying not to be accusatory, he said: "You think?"

Again Gordon paused. "The Joker has hurt Gotham bad. Real bad. Just between you and me," he said, pausing in anticipation of an acknowledgement from Batman, which he gave by nodding. "The Mayor and the other big shots want the Joker off the table for good, yesterday."

"Did they want me to do it?" Gordon nodded.

"That's not the way I work."

"It may be the way they work."

"What are you implying?"

Gordon shifted his stance, shaking his head. "I don't know. I've never heard someone in the City government be so blatant about wanting to eliminate somebody. It's happened in the past, sure, but they've always been quiet about it. For him to go off like that, the big players must be really putting pressure on him."

Batman understood the reference: the City government was nothing more than a puppet, playing to the real masters, the one's with money and influence. Big business, big labor, the mob, for decades these groups had vied to control the machinery for their own ends. In recent years, the mob had grown ascendant; now that they were in retreat, the other powers might be pushing behind the scenes to take over. And Number 1 on the list of threats to their ascendancy was a wildcard like the Joker. Of course, that means Enemy #2 on their list would be none other than himself! He couldn't help but smile at the irony.

What he said, however, was pure business: "Have they done anything? Or is it just talk?"

"Sounds like talk for now. But I'm not that plugged in."

"I'll keep my eyes and ears open." As Batman and Bruce Wayne.

"Regardless of what's going on behind the scenes, we have to stop the Joker. We lose everything if we don't."

"Right. I'm on it."

"Good luck."

"You too."

Batman left and began his descent. The meeting with Gordon had gone just about as expected; on the plus side, apparently they didn't blame him too much for all the screw-ups with the Joker, even though he blamed himself. On the minus side, it looks like the City (and possibly the police) was about to take the gloves off against the Joker.

Batman knew it was more than a little hypocritical that he was concerned that officialdom might start acting behind the scenes. But knowing his own abilities and limits, and the temptations that unchecked power could bring, he worried about an overreaction. Gordon seems to be for restraint, but that might just have been for show. And in any case, he may not have full control over the cops. Besides the mob and the Joker, who was to say they wouldn't follow someone else who could wave a paycheck in front of their noses? That was the most likely scenario Gordon was speculating about: if the City really wanted to take off the gloves with the Joker, there were plenty of cops who'd do it for free, and even more who'd do it for cash.

After a while he finally glided to the ground and where the Batpod was hidden. Riding way, Batman considered what this meant for the future. We may end up cris-crossing paths on the street, he thought with dismay. Better be sure to be careful.

Rachel was so lost in a mixture of pain and stupor that at first she didn't hear the doorbell. Just the pink elephants again! If only it had been so innocent; drunkenness really wasn't any relief, or even escape. It was just a way to make everything confusing, and to forget about it in the confusion. When you came to, all the problems were still there, just worse for having further delayed in attempting to solve them.

"Well to hell with my problems," she slurred. But her ingrained sense of responsibility had not yet been totally killed by her mutilation and medication. Slowly, painfully, she picked herself off of the floor of her apartment and made her way to the door.

When Rachel peered through the viewer she was surprised: it was Mayor Garcia. Hurrying to steady herself, she quickly made herself presentable, then opened the door.

The Mayor stood there, dressed rather causally. Off in the distance, she could see two guards watching over the area. They didn't look like police, but civilian bodyguards—no less tough because of it, however. Smiling, he said: "May I come in?"

"Sure." Rachel gestured, and he walked inside. The guards did not, taking up positions just outside her door.

He sniffed slightly. Rachel was embarrassed; the stench of alcohol was everywhere. But he did not respond to that. Instead, he made his way to the living room and sat at a couch. Rachel sat down in a seat across from him.

"How you feeling, Rachel?" he asked gravely.

Rachel sighed. "Terrible." She hesitated, then continued: "I've stopped taking the prescription pain medication, because they screw up my mind."

"How's the booze working as a substitute?"

She winced. "Not much better. A lot more pain, for a little more control over myself. It's a fair tradeoff."

Garcia shook his head. "It's not fair. Nothing about what happened to you is fair."

She nodded. "I know." But what can you do? It was an effort to keep from breaking down at it all.

"I've already said more condolences to you and your family than you'd ever want to hear, so I won't do it again." That was gratifying. "I'm here because I need your help."

Rachel nodded. "Just give me another week, and I'll be back on my feet litigating cases again—"

"—screw litigation. You and I both know that won't accomplish squat."

For a second Rachel thought the alcohol was having a laugh at her expense. Screw litigation, that won't do squat, she repeated silently to herself. It was an astonishing thing to hear from him. But the more I think about it, the more I like it!

Still, Rachel was too cautious a person to dive into something unknown just like that. "Mayor, once we get a new DA, I'm sure we can—"

"—the gloves are coming off, Rachel. The Joker's gone so far over the line, it's open season on him. He's going down. Permanently."

It was almost impossible for her to believe what he was saying. Not wishing to get her hopes up, she continued to be discrete: "Did you make contact with the Batman, ask him to—"

"—Batman's out," he said cuttingly. "Looks like he won't get his hands too dirty, if you know what I mean. So be it. Now he's just an obstacle. If he gets in our way… too bad for him."

Rachel's heart began to leap at his words. This is too good to be true! "So, are you suggesting, the police might have an 'accident' when they come across the Joker?"

His face was grim. "If that happens, I'll pin the medal on myself." He leaned in closer. "But you and I know that's not likely to happen. The cops in this town are hopeless. Half of them are on the mob's payroll, and the other half couldn't find the hole in the donuts they stuff themselves with every morning." It was a brutal putdown she occasionally heard in the DA office. In the past she would chide anyone who did so. Now… "We're going to do things on our own. The right way."

"And you want me to help out," Rachel said.

"That's right. We're assembling a handpicked team, professionals. They're going to go out and deal with the problem directly. Anyone who's ever been within a hundred feet of the Joker, we're going to find them and get the answers we need—one way or the other." His face darkened. "Eventually, that will lead us to the Joker. And we'll put him down like the mad dog he is."

She nodded. His words brought back memories of political science classes in college; of death squads and secret police in faraway countries. It was appalling. It was… intriguing.

And it was potentially worrying. Not because Rachel disagreed—not anymore. But it would be very easy for this to blow up in their faces. She had to test them. In a coy voice, she asked: "What's to stop me from going to the press and blowing the lid on this?"

The Mayor sat back and smiled. "Words are a devalued currency in Gotham City." That was true. "I wouldn't have come here tonight if I didn't have all areas covered." That was also true, and it made Rachel nervous. There's a dozen break in and murders during a robbery attempt every day. What would one more be? "But that's just background. I know you won't stop us, because you want to join us. You deserve to be with us." He stood up. "You want payback for the guy who did this to you?" he gestured to the left side of his face, which unlike hers was unblemished. "You want to make our streets safe again? The last guy who thought he could clean up Gotham by the book was a good friend of mine. He was much more to you. You know how that story ended."

With Batman—Bruce Wayne—going for the girl he secretly wanted, while conveniently getting the competition out of the way! A tear flowed down Rachel's right cheek; her hands balled into fists of rage.

He came over and sat down beside her. "Batman won't do it, the police sure as hell can't do it. It's up to us, the concerned citizens of Gotham. We're the only ones who can save our city and eliminate the Joker once for all. You can help us do that." He paused. "Or you can go back next week to work, and spend your 9-5 Mondays-Fridays plea bargaining with hundred-time offenders of drug laws, or watching Maroni's men get off on technicalities. A or B. What's your answer?"

Rachel's mouth quivered; she had never been so angry in her life, so furious with the hopeless state of things. Anything was better than to just sink into despair; she had to act!

"I'm in."

The mayor smiled and patted her thigh. "Excellent. Here's what you do: tomorrow night at 9PM, stand outside your building, and wait for a black Lincoln towncar to pull up to you. The driver's name is Dave. He'll say his name, then ask you for directions to the Show. You tell him it's SouthTown. He'll open the door, and you get in; he'll take you to the HQ." He suddenly dropped down next to him. "Make absolutely sure you're completely alone, that no one follows you. If they suspect anything, they have free reign to deal with you as they see fit. Understand?"

Rachel gulped and nodded. "Good. Once you're at HQ and briefed, you'll be in, but until then, we have to maintain security, plausible deniability." He held out his hand to shake. "You made the right choice, Rachel. I promise you, you'll be well rewarded for your troubles."

"The only payment I want is—" and Rachel proceeded to describe what she wanted done with the Joker's head and certain of his body parts. Reading about war crimes in a class on international human rights in law school, this particular atrocity that soldiers sometimes did with their captives had always stuck in her mind like a noisome slime. Now, she could think of nothing better to do with the Joker when they caught him. I only hope we catch him alive, so I can see it in person!

The Mayor's eyes went wide. Never thought prim and proper Miss Rachel Dawes would say something like that, did you? she thought nastily. But he then smiled and said: "Couldn't have said it better myself. Remember, 9PM tomorrow. Dave. Southland."

"I will."

Nodding, the Mayor got up and made his way to the door. Rachel escorted him out. Once she was alone, she laid down on her couch, feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks. The prospect of striking back, of getting revenge, was so tempting, so palpable, it brought a sense of quasi-sexual release for her. Cooing with pleasure, Rachel closed her good eye (her left eye had an artificial eyelid attached in place and would remain unblinkingly open for the rest of her life), and began fantasizing about all the extralegal things this 'team' the Mayor alluded to could do for the good of Gotham.

After all, why should only the bad guys in this town have fun? It's time for some payback! And her list was a very long one, indeed.