10

Jasmine spent the first half a day at work trying to look as innocent as she possibly could. After lunch, she pulled her monitor around so no one would see it as they casually walked by. She would cheerfully kill Jack if this didn't work the way he'd sworn it would.

As much as she hoped he wasn't lying, she knew this moment would prove it one way or the other.

The night before, Jack had outlined a plan to pull out Zeke and cut off his section of the mob. It would force her father's hand, how she wasn't quite sure, and why she didn't ask. It would allow Jack to get one step closer to his brother, as well as the other obvious pluses. Namely getting another criminal off the streets and clearing their honor somewhat. Her job was to punch in a computer virus into the city's mainframe that would highlight any traffic Zeke's group caused. It would supposedly self erase in six hours, leaving no damage. Jack was going to appear at one of their 'special hangouts' as he called it to stir up some trouble. All the attention would alert specified groups in specified agencies, and the rest of the job would be done for them.

Swallowing her nerves, Jasmine opened up a case file with a notepad hidden with the other papers. Reading off of it, she franticly typed in the addresses, passwords, file codes and so on until she found the place Jack had listed. Inserting a disk into her disk drive, she loaded the virus into the system. It seemed like forever before the complete sign flashed and she could restart her computer.

"Brian, pull up the alerts."

Brian Richards looked up from the file he was filling in, and frowned. 'What's going on?"

"We got a hit on the chatter filters. Here," The office tech punched a few buttons allowing the older man to see the page. The list was rapidly filling in. "It's in Gotham. What the heck?"

Brian stood, his blue eyes boring into the numbers, reading them quickly. His square face growing hard, he whipped around and pointed at another man. "Pull up this info on the big screen, I want a grid of Gotham to show the numbers in map format as well."

They stood looking at the way the numbers tallied. A few minutes later a news clip played, showing confirmation of the digital records. "It's like the rest of Gotham disappeared and this is what's left," the techie murmured.

Brian smiled and drew in a breath. Zeke had not abandoned him. "Someone from an old team just threw us a bone, boys."

Seeing the man slouching against her car, Jasmine hustled over, unlocking quickly. "Can't you get in before someone sees you? This is the police parking, you know!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Jack climbed in and pushed back his sickly green hair. "Well, checked my little homemade baby here," he waved what looked like a poorly made GPS around, "and we are trending."

"You mean it worked? Someone's coming, it worked?"

"Uh huh, like a charm. My ah…associates are eager to move to another step." He grinned disturbingly as she pumped a fist. "Now what shall we do?"

She pulled in a breath. "You're the guy with the plan, you tell me."

He rolled his eyes. "Do I really look to you like a guy with a plan?"

"No, but then, you never did." She replied, pulling out into traffic. "I'm in a good mood. Tell me where to go and I'll give you a lift."

He sat in silence, though not in stillness. Some part of him was always moving, hands, fingers, feet, toes, arms, legs, head, face, nothing was at rest. He'd gesture to show her where to turn every so often, but neither made an attempt at conversation for several miles.

At a long light, he finally turned to look at her. "Why did you keep the knife all these years?"

She glanced at him strangely. "Is it important?"

"It could be."

There was another pause before she answered.

"You were my only friend back then. Shoot, you were probably my only friend all along. I kept it because it was a gift, and learned to use it because I have it. I don't go anywhere without it because of the same reasons. Does that answer your question?"

He nodded, and pointed to the left, indicating another turn.

When they slowed to a halt, it was a drop site for shipping containers. Nothing moved except a few stray cats that looked ill enough to be health hazards. "Tell me this isn't your place."

"Ah, no, but a friend is loaning it to me. Here, this one." He found a set of red containers that were clearly placed there for storage rather than shipping. Opening a door, he bowed, showing her the way in. It was pitch black and she kept glancing back to see if he was laughing at her.

"You're kidding, right?"

"Just keep walking."

"A giant razor isn't going to come from the wall, is it?"

"March."

Moving carefully, she felt her way towards the back. Suddenly, he pulled the door shut behind her. "JACK!"

"Relax, I'm right behind you."

"That's not comforting."

He humped, and suddenly a mechanical hum filled the air. She felt the floor move, and grabbed at his arm to keep her balance. Light began to spill around them as they lowered into a deep shaft. At the bottom, a door opened to reveal what looked like an underground garage. Instead of cars it held large black army grade vehicles for ground and air, stacks of supplies, medical equipment, weapons, a wall of computers, several work tables, a door labeled LABS, and two plastic encased sanitary areas. In one corner was a kitchen area, with a living area right beside. Along the wall near that was a row of beds with heavy drapes to pull around them for privacy, a dresser and night stand.

"Glad you could make it, sir." An all-too-familiar voice said from the left.

There was Alfred, looking completely calm and holding an apron before him as if about to tie it on.

Jasmine looked around wildly, and there was Bruce, eating pie at one of the work tables, reading diagnostics on a screen. "Jack," he called absently, "Jasmine. There's some food in the oven, if you're hungry."

"Starved!" Jack yelped, and took off. Jasmine just turned to Alfred.

"Please tell me what's going on here."

He smiled and patted her back. "I know it's a bit much. Here, come have a cup of tea, it'll calm you down."

Had it been anyone besides Alfred, she might have hit them. Instead, she followed meekly to the table where Jack was inhaling roast beef at an alarming rate. She was handed a large cup of tea and a warm croissant. The older gentleman sat beside her and smiled gently.

"You see, we've been helping Jack chase down his brother for some time. Master Wayne and he created the virus you put up for us."

"So you guys are telling me you created the Joker to help Jack?" She shook her head and took a vengeful bite from her bread. "What kind of fool idea is that?"

"Granted, it's not been the easiest scheme. However, Jack has been able to handle most of it himself, with the exception of certain items. Really, all we've given him is funding tools, and a place to stay while the fictional face of the Joker keeps the law looking for the real one. He's done his share to help us, giving us clues to where other types of crime tend to happen."

Jack spoke around a mouthful of potatoes. "Nothing like having an investment paying back, you know."

Alfred gave him a glare. "Be that as it may, we need to see what you were made of before we brought you in on our little plans."

"Little? Hardly!" She turned on Bruce who had just started over. "And where do you fit into this."

"Me, personally? No place. Batman however, does."

The silence was absolute.

Jasmine clenched her fists and turned to each of them slowly. No one was kidding, no one was moving. "Who else knows?"

"Fox may, but we don't come out and express ourselves. Rachel does, and she'll be thrilled to have a friend who knows too."

"Glad I can help, what the heck are you all thinking?"

Alfred sighed and put his hands on her shoulders. "That we can help each other. Batman can't do everything, neither can a face villain," Jack waved happily from a newly filled plate, "but people with similar happenings and goals in their lives can make a formidable army, miss. I know you can keep our secret, but no one will force you to fight with us. Think it over and let us know."