3

Fox was exactly as she remembered him: comforting, genial and courteous. The freckles on his dark skin fascinated her, almost tribal in appearance, moving with every smile.

He looked up thoughtfully as she waited for him to explain what her work was to be. "What has Gordon told you?"

"Zilch." She shoved her hands into her pockets, feeling the weight of her army knife on her hidden belt. Her Glock and Beretta were neatly secured in her side holsters. She was no longer a woman who left things to chance. "He said you'd explain."

He laughed and scratched his wiry grey hair. "I only know what's been given in statements. Mostly it's the usual heckling and grouchy letters any large company gets. Two incidents do stick out. A visitor was accosted in the parking garage, got roughed up and took a few bruises home. Never caught the guy. Second was one of the staff…that's really all I have. It was strange because she reports everything in endless detail. This, she just admitted to and that was the end of it."

Jasmine looked at the floor in thought. Her hand went to her scar, and she remained that way for several minutes. Eventually, she looked up. "I'm not even going to ask for the security tapes. If you'd had those you wouldn't be talking to me."

"No, we wouldn't." He sounded half regretful, and glanced at his computer as if having the footage to get rid of her would have been wonderful. She hid the look of amusement at the tone.

"Is there anyone specific I need to be assigned to?" Oh, a name would make all the difference in the world!

He frowned. "I'll let you know. Right now, just get to know the building. Here's your ID, and don't lose it."

She clipped the plastic card to her jacket, and thanked him. Apparently, Fox wasn't the one who had requested her presence. Walking out, she pulled up the mental map she'd formed from the directory. Following her gut, she found Bruce's office, and to her surprise smelled hot tea. Tea meant Alfred, and Alfred meant Wayne.

Jasmine nudged the door open with her toe, and met Bruce's innocent grin as he sat behind his desk, hands folded neatly before him. "Save it for Time Magazine, buddy. You set me up."

"Aren't mad, are you?" He asked, standing up to shake her hand.

She sat down across from him, and looked over her chin as she leaned back. "Not really, but I think Fox has few choice comments to make when he gets you alone. You really should have warned him."

"I think Master Wayne could give all of us a warning, Miss Richards." A crisp English voice spoke at her elbow. Alfred handed her a large mug of tea, and smiled kindly, his blue eyes sparkling. She grinned back, unreservedly. Alfred Pennyworth was one of the few people she felt more than professionally towards. He was also one of the few who was really what he seemed.

Beaming up at the older man, she accepted the tea. Taking a long, loving sip she let out a satisfied sigh. "Bless you, I needed this."

"And no wonder." He muttered, glancing meaningfully at a paper on a nearby ottoman.

She laughed, and raised her cup to no one in general. "Bruce, give this man a raise."

A snort from the corner told her Alfred had retreated. Bruce came around and sat on the arm of her chair. He raised a dark eye brow, his slender face serious. "What do you think so far?"

"Of?"

"The two incidents Fox told you about."

Slowly, she reached out to set her mug on the handmade glass table beside her. It was one of her better pieces. "I think you are all hiding something from me. I think something serious has happened, and you want to be sure I'm the one for the job. Otherwise, you'll just stick me on security to keep your promise." She leaned her head back to look the billionaire in the eye. "Our year-long agreement is up first of the month, so after that maybe you'll be honest with me. For now, I'll play along. What's up?"

After exchanging a look with his butler, the business owner stood and walked towards a file cabinet. "The Joker has sent a couple of videos threatening Wayne Enterprises."

"Tell me you're kidding! As if I haven't heard enough about that guy already,"

"I assure you, we have validated this threat, Miss Richards." Alfred spoke gently from his seat, but the words silenced her.

Bruce nodded. "Gordon and Batman have, according to rumor, started hunting this guy down." He held a large packet in his arms. "It's not very pretty, think you can look?"

She nodded, and took the many folders in her lap. Opening the first, she felt like she was looking in a mirror. A girl, maybe sixteen, was sprawled on a nameless sidewalk, shot twice in the chest. Her eye were glazed, wide, the look of fear still apparent. Her mouth had been carved from ear to ear in a grisly smirk. Another showed an elderly man hanging over a railing, his mouth pulled into the smile by wires wrapped around his head. Face after face, name after name, and autopsy after autopsy, but none of them children. In all the carnage, there was one line that remained uncrossed.

"Gordon compiled this, didn't he?" She asked, reaching to her own scar.

"Yes. It took him a couple of months; it's from all over the country. At every scene, he leaves a joker card. These are just the ones involving homicides. There are thefts, vandalism, assault, blackmail…" Bruce trailed off. "It's like a bad film, isn't it?"

No, she thought, it's worse than that. Her gut told her none of this was the worst. The worst had yet to surface. She tied the folders together and handed them back. "I've got them, give them back to Gordon."

"You sure? I can let you keep them a while,"

"I'd really rather not."

Putting them back and locking the drawer, Bruce turned and slid his hands into his pockets. "Do you need any equipment? Anything at all, I can find it for you."

"I'd love my own Alfred, but I think that's not in the deal." She said, standing abruptly. "Mostly, just convince Fox I'm on his side."

"I'll pass on the message. Anything else?"

She thought for a moment. "A second phone, secure line. Voice activation would be nice, but not necessary."

"Done. You've met Rachel Dawes, right?"

Jasmine sensed dangerous ground. "A couple of times, why?"

"Which tie should I wear?" He pulled two out of each pocket, and held them up, obviously having planned to ask her from the beginning. She groaned and grabbed her tea again.

"Wear the one Alfred already selected, nimrod."