A Dark Knight for Gotham: Part 9

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Please read my journal! THere's not much, I promise! PlEaSe!

OR

A long stream of frustrated grunts and sighs were increasingly audible as they traveled through Selina's open closet door. Selina herself sat at her antique vanity table, a piece quite out of place in her spacious, modern-day closet. She was attempting, in vain, to pin up her freshly curled hair. After stabbing herself with a bobby pin for seemingly the hundredth time, she threw her hands up with vexation.

"Urrgh! Forget it!" Selina yanked out the pins that had been holding her curls on top of her head precariously, and let her hair tumble back down to her shoulders.

Gathering her hair to one side, Selina ran her fingers through it absent mindedly as she gazed at her reflection in the vanity mirror:

She saw a young woman staring back at her, slightly frizzing, curled hair bunched up on one side. Her bright green eyes were surrounded by a flawless layer of make-up; a perfect icon of the rich, portentous and ignorant of Gotham.

Who is that girl? Selina honestly didn't recognize the carefree, vanity-obsessed face that was reflected back at her. Seeing this selfish persona scared her deeply; this was exactly the kind of person that she didn't want to become. That she would never be. But, even though she should have been used to seeing this false reflection, it still disturbed her sometimes how seamlessly someone - anyone - could slip into 1st class with the right price. And nothing would be left of them but a synthetic beauty. But Selina was different.

But how long can I keep up this masquerade? If I wear a mask, I can fool the world, but I can't fool myself. When will my reflection show who I am inside?

She paused to listen to the music she had left playing, stroking her hair thoughtfully as she pondered a manageable yet appropriate hairstyle.

"7 years and 50 days, the time has passed us by...And how could we break up like this? And how could we be wrong? 7 years and 50 days, and I still sing my song. Now I run to you, like I always do, when I, close my eyes, and think of you, such a lonely girl, such a lonely world, when I close my eyes I dream-"

Groove Coverage was abruptly cut off as Selina slammed down the STOP button on the 10W Micro Hi-Fi Stereo System with unnecessary force. She re-entered her walk-in closet, refusing to acknowledge that the lyrics applied to her in several ways. She sat back down at the vanity table, slightly more self-conscious than before.

I think a loose bun will do...

Selina emerged twenty minutes later, gliding down the staircase, sporting a messy, yet stylish bun. Selina had decided to wear a gown she hadn’t worn in some time; Bruce’s fundraiser didn’t mean quite enough to Selina for her to make a big deal out of it. The dress was one of her favorites, though: a midnight blue halter top with an empire waist cut, showing off her alluring curves.

Selina paused by the sofa, ensuring that she had a check made out to Harvey Dent ready; she was pretty generous. In her peripherals, she noticed the T.V., perpetually tuned to the news, was still on from when she had turned it on after work. She pushed Shadow over a little from his comfortable sprawl on the couch so she could grab the remote he was sitting on. But when she raised her head, she was greeted by one of the most shocking and disturbing images she could recall: a Batman fanatic, a hangman’s noose tight around his neck, being slowly lowered from the roof of city hall. A sickening red smile was sloppily smeared over his stark-white jaw. The caption at the bottom of the screen read:

BATMAN DEAD?

Selina groped around for the MUTE button, unable to take her eyes off the screen.

“ …Police have released video footage concealed on the body. Do be warned, though,” the sound flickered onto Mike Engel at the GCN studio. “The images are disturbing.”

The stream switched to a tape of poor quality. It seemed to be set in some type of restaurant poultry freezer. As far as the tape showed, there were only two inhabitants in the room: the person holding the camera, and a man-dressed in imitation Batman armor- tied to a chair in the center of the room, surrounded by various meats.

“Tell them your name.” a thick male voice close behind the camera ordered.

“B-Brian…Douglas.” The man stuttered weakly.

The audio crackled as the voice snickered, directly next to the recorder.

“Are you the real Batman?” The voice asked, dripping with mocking sarcasm.

“No-”

“No? No?” More laughing. Then the voice’s tone changed; harsher. “Then why do you dress up like him? Ooo-hoo-whoo.” The cameraman reached over with a gloved hand to tear off the man’s mask and waved it in front of the camera, too close for proper focus. Crazed mirth echoed about as he twirled it in front of the lens, then tossed it aside.

“H-He’s a symbol,” Brian answered, slightly stronger now. “That we don’t have to be afraid of scum like you.”

“Yeah, you do, Brian.” The gloved hand was now beside his face. “You really do. Huh? Yeeah…” The hand shook Brian’s head back and forth aggressively, then grabbed a handful of Brian’s hair and yanked back hard. Brian whimpered, not unlike a scared puppy, and the hand moved down to stroke his pale cheek a few times in succession.

“Aw, sh-sh-shh-sh. So,” The hand slapped Brian twice on his check, inducing only more whimpering. “You think that Batman has made this city a better place? Hm? Look at me.”

Brian defiantly looked at the floor, refusing to look up-even to the terrifying voice.

“LOOK AT ME!”

Selina herself recoiled as the voice, which she had recognized at this point with a growing dread, shouted at full capacity, livid anger powering the volume. Brian raised his eyes.

There was excessive crackling as the camera was turned around, with a full-face view of the cameraman himself.

“See this is how crazy Batman’s made Gotham.” The Joker said, verbally gesturing to himself.

“You want order in Gotham? Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in,” He rotated considerably, so that Brian was faced his back. Then, as if he almost forgot to add, “Oh-and everyday he doesn’t, people will die. Starting tonight.” He leaned in close to the camera. “I’m a man of my word.”

Then the camera was dropped, and the image became indistinguishable. But throughout the remaining few seconds, the cackles and screams of terror were all too clear.

* * * * * * * ** ** * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * ** * * * * * * * ****************

Starting tonight…

The Joker’s threat was still ringing in Selina’s ears as she rode the elevator up to the eighteenth floor.

Tonight…what kind of a sick bastard hangs someone and then leave a tape of their final moments?

She tried to withhold the tears that threatened to flow for Brian; because the elevator doors had now opened, and Selina Kyle stepped into a world of prejudice, vanity, and ignorance. To her surprise, nearly 100 guests had already arrived.

Wha…?

Selina looked around at all the cheerful, bubbly faces. There was a light, peaceful string ensemble playing in the background. Men hung around the tables of refreshments chatting about politics, while their dates pretended to pick at their food. She found it hard to believe; that while a madman was roaming the streets, these people were content to just let someone else handle it.

Ignorance is bliss…but this is really putting that phrase to the extreme…

Selina took a brief glance around, trying to get as much in as she could in one fleeting look. She was just a tiny bit curious of what Bruce Wayne’s penthouse looked like; this was the first event he’d hosted since he’d relocated.

So if he burns down this place too, at least I’ll know what it looked like.

“Selina!” A mid-set man with graying hair was approaching her, arms outstretched.

“Renfrew!” Selina smiled pleasantly, slipping seamlessly into the part. The two embraced unconscientiously, then Selina kissed him lightly on one cheek, as was custom. He beamed.

“How are you, darling?”

“Wonderful,” Except there’s a psychopathic killer on the loose. “I’ve been looking for ways to occupy myself. I’ve really not had much to do lately.” Excluding, of course, attending a mob meeting, breaking into a museum, and planting one on the Batman. Amongst other things.

He chuckled. “Now Selina, I know you better than that.”

She laughed, but for a different reason that he Renfrew believed.

Please! We’ve barely met at a few parties. I don’t even know your last name! You’ll never know me.

Although she didn’t know it at the time, she was wrong.

“Come,” he continued, waving her over to his previous position next to a stately looking couple.

“Selina, this is Pierre and Dana Chavez. Pierre’s a state senator staying in Gotham for business.”

“Pleasure.” Selina nodded to the aging bald man and his Botox queen.

Pierre smiled widely at her, bobbing his head at Selina His wife, however, didn’t look half as pleased. Or perhaps that was the result of continuous facial injection.

“Now…what were you saying, Pierre?”

Pierre turned back to the conversation, not seeming to mind that his spectacles continued to slip down the bridge of his nose.. Selina was grateful for the presence of the men; that all she had to do was stand there and look pretty.

“Huh? Oh – It’s just with the number of freaks and criminals in this city on the rise, Dana and I are thinking about changing the legislature headquarters to a more…prosperous community.” He said, looking to Dana to back up his statement.

“It’s no place to raise children at all.” She agreed, expressionless.

And you’re just going to be the Brady Bunch, aren’t you? Selina thought sardonically; they didn’t strike her as the familial type.

“So…how are you two enjoying your stay in Gotham?” Selina asked, trying her best to look genuinely interested.

“Well, our suite is quite spacious, but it’s not…” Mrs. Chavez began a lengthy description of how everything in “this city” was somehow crude in her eyes. But Selina tuned her out before she had finished her first sentence. For some reason unbeknownst even to herself, Selina found her mind drifting to an almost-forgotten memory: the first time she rode a motorbike.

‘There. Now just place your hands over the brake bar like this-’

‘Like this?’

‘Just about…’

Selina could recall the touch of his dry, callused hand over hers as vividly as the night it happened. Her eyes stung with tears that refused to fall, and she flexed her hands; as if trying to rub away his notional touch.

‘Now just ease off the clutch…and you’re off-’

But the roar of the motorbike and the deafening, raging rush of the wind rippling through her hair cut off his last words of advice. Selina remembered that sensation clearly; the freedom of the open night road, the thrill of the speed, and the deplorable panic that initiated as she unexpectedly found herself spinning, falling, aspahlt rushing up-blood clouding her vision—

Selina was, quite literally, jolted out of her nostalgia as a passing guest collided into her from behind.

“Oh, excuse me.” The woman said carelessly to no one in particular, squeezing though the gaggle of guests. Selina gave the pear-shaped brunette a sour look, but let her pass. The still, chilled air of the contemporary penthouse suddenly seemed out of place. Shrugging off the feeling, she glanced in the opposite direction, hoping to see what made that woman in such a hurry. Instead, she caught sight of the guest of honor. Harvey Dent was clearly nervous; uneasy in the presence of the well-to-do trust fund committee.

Selina frowned faintly.

So if he’s there…where’s his blossoming Miss Dawes?

She followed his beseeching gaze…to the thoughtless brunette. The woman turned slightly, revealing her countenance. Selina glanced back to Harvey, who was now in a light conversation with Wayne’s butler over a glass of champagne; though still looking rather out of place.

Nice. Real nice, Rachel. Leave your boyfriend to rot while you converse in your comfort zone.

She felt a swell of pity towards him; her first Elite event hadn’t been easy, either. Turning away from Renfrew and the Chavezes, Selina approached the attorney.

“Mr. Dent?”

Even though his back was towards her, his angst was almost tangible. Wearing a slightly pained expression, he turned to her. Selina smiled warmly and extended her hand. He shook it firmly, with a grip that made it evident he’d performed that gesture countless times before.

“Selina Kyle.” She said, introducing herself. “I’m a big adherent to your cause. It’s really impressive what you’ve accomplished in your first month as District Attorney.”

“Thank you,” Harvey said. The corner of his mouth crinkled up into a polite smile. “I really appreciate your support.”

Selina nodded. “I was sorry to hear about the outcome of the Sal Maroni trial.” She said sympathetically.

Harvey let out an aggravated puff of breath. Selina almost regretted bringing it up, but he put a positive spin on the topic.

“Yeah…well, the one good thing about the mob is that they keep giving me second chances.” He muttered.

Selina let out a short, tinkling laugh. Harvey-although in good spirits-appeared to be contemplating something.

“Selina Kyle…” He echoed, squinting as if trying to distinguish her from someone else. “Aren’t you Bruce’s date?”

Selina stiffened, like a glaze would congeal over a statue.

“No,” She said monotonously. “What gave you that impression?”

Harvey flushed a slight shade of pink and apologized, claiming it had just been something floating around.

I’m starting to get the feeling that a gossip addict played a hand in this…someone like...Jaqi…

“It’d be rather difficult for me to be his date without knowing about it.” Selina continued curtly.

Harvey laughed sheepishly, and cast another hopeful look in Rachel’s direction.

“Where is Wayne, anyway? It’s his party…” He grumbled, looking around as if hoping Bruce Wayne would appear out of thin air. But his last few words were unintelligible; drowned out by the roaring reverberation of an approaching helicopter. The room quieted as all head turned towards the balcony door, outside of which the large vehicle landed. For a moment, the crowd seemed to hold their breaths in anticipation. Then the door popped opened.

And out stepped Bruce Wayne, accompanied by his usual arm candy.

Speak of the devil...

Several eyes nearly popped out of their sockets at the sight of the skanky women’s incredibly short neon-colored dresses. Bruce strode into the party through the glass door opened for him by his butler. He might have opened it himself, but his arms were already occupied; an arm around two anorexic waists.

Geez, the guy just can’t keep his hand out of the cookie jar…

“I’m sorry that I’m late. I’m glad to see that you all got started without me.” He unlatched his arm from the models, allowing them to drift about as he spoke.

“Now,” he said, clapping his hands together as he scanned the crowd. “Where is Harvey? Wher-” His eyes landed on Harvey, and made it a point to make sure everyone else saw him as well. The crowd immediately melted away from Harvey’s imminent vicinity.

“Harvey Dent. Man of the Hour. And where is Rachel Dawes?” He called, raising his voice so that Rachel could her him from across the room. “She is my oldest friend, come here.” He beckoned her forward.

Rachel easily joined Harvey at his side; the crowd had receded away from her as well as she grudgingly walked to her date. But she wore an annoyed expression that clashed intensely with Harvey’s goofy smile. But Bruce seemed blissfully unaware of this fact, and continued with his speech.

“You know, when Rachel first told me she was dating Harvey Dent, I had one thing to say: that guy from those gun-awful campaign commercials? I believe in Harvey Dent? Yeah, nice slogan, Harvey.” He shot him a quick thumbs-up.

This brought on a mild wave of laughs. Harvey shifted; embarrassed. But neither Rachel nor Selina even cracked a smile. Selina rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

Is his whole speech going to be like this? If so, I need to find an exit fast.

Rachel just stared at Bruce, her face stony. Bruce waited for the last few chuckles to subside before he continued.

. “But, it got Rachel’s attention.” He said, seemingly in Harvey’s defense, gesturing towards Rachel. But the smug grin on his face disappeared as he approached a more serious standpoint.

“And then I started to pay attention to him…and all that’s he’s been doing as our new D.A. And you know what? I believe in Harvey Dent.”

Selina was genuinely interested now; her expression changed from irritation to bemusement in the same time that it took Bruce to switch modes. Bruce locked gazes with several members of the audience to ensure that they were actively listening.

“ I believe that on his watch, Gotham can feel a little safer; a little more optimistic. Look at this face.” Bruce was looking directly at Harvey now-not a hint of mischief about him at all. “This is the face of Gotham’s bright future. To Harvey Dent. Let’s hear it for him.”

With Wayne leading them, the crowd broke out into fervent applause. Selina even found herself lightly clapping.

I can’t believe I’m agreeing with that man on something, even something as trivial as this. What can I say? The man has a silver tongue. Bruce Wayne, maybe you’re not as vile as I’ve believed.

She made a mental note to herself to not judge her peers. A reminder she’d made to herself dozens of times.

* ** ***** * ** * * * ** * *

Bruce’s smile, unseen by the preoccupied throng, slowly faded. While the guests hurried to congratulate or greet Mr. Dent, (now that Bruce had made it a point of interest) he quietly slipped out to his balcony. Leaning over the cool metal rail, he emptied his glass of champagne on the concrete ledge below in one swift movement. Now holding the drained glass absently in one hand, he stared contemplatively over the sun-set view of Gotham City, an almost irate expression on his face.

A short metallic clunk announced the arrival of another comrade. He knew who it was without turning around.

Rachel..

He knew from the irritated and angry glares she had sent him during his ‘speech’ that a scolding from her was coming. For him, the ironic thing was that, this time, he hadn’t actually done anything to deserve it. Bruce waited until she spoke and the angry click of her heels had ceased before he even looked at her.

“Harvey may not know you well enough to know when you’re making fun of him, but I do.” She said as she joined him at the far railing, clearly awaiting an explanation.

Another accusation…

“No, I meant every word.” Bruce insisted. There was neither trace of malice nor mischief in his tone. He looked her straight in the eyes, to prove further his innocence, showing kindness and love against her malevolence. Nevertheless, Rachel was not convinced. She sighed.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore, Bruce. You’re not the man I used to know; sneaking out at night, asking out dozens of models…like that Marina, and now this…”

Bruce echoed her sigh. “Rachel…you know…why I do what I do. It’s not something I enjoy, it’s a necessary service for my city,” Rachel’s eyebrows eased up into a high arch. “And about Selina…I can’t help what rumors are being spread around. But I wouldn’t expect you of all people to believe them. I just asked her to lunch and she turned me down. It was strictly for publicity. I just thought I might try taking someone who’s not such a Batman hater while I’m out.

“Bruce-”

But he out a hand up, motioning for her to wait; trying to cling to the fragile strand of hope that was left strung between them.

“You know that day you once told me about? When…Gotham would no longer need Batman?” He lowered his voice ever so slightly. “It’s coming-”

“Bruce,” she interrupted his thought-out soliloquy, shaking her head and refusing to look at him. “You can’t ask me to wait for that.”

“It’s happening now. Harvey is that hero.”

Rachel met his eyes; they were shining with the prospect of being with Rachel…of not being alone.

“He locked up half of the city’s criminals, and he did it without wearing a mask. Gotham needs a hero with a face.” Bruce continued, his excitement creeping into his tone. A smile was beginning to curl the edges of his mouth; like he wanted her to join in his happiness, however so weak. But Rachel didn’t smile. Not one inch. Instead she just bored her eyes into his, filled with pity and apathy more than love.

“You can throw a party, Wayne, I’ll give you that…”

The moment was broken as Harvey stepped out onto the balcony. Bruce and Rachel stepped apart instantly. Rachel moved her hand across her lower neck; a particular gesture she executed any time she felt guilty.

“Thanks again. You…mind if I borrow Rachel?” Harvey asked, looking slight uncertain as he addressed Bruce. He had apparently managed to escape his approachers, and was ready to collect his date once and for all.

Bruce tried his best to conceal the brute half of him; the half that would very much enjoy tearing Harvey to shreds. In result, he merely nodded once blandly and watched as his dear friend turned slowly to leave. Rachel swiftly moved to Harvey’s side and linked her arms through his. Unaware of the tension, he turned on his heels and led her back towards the party. Rachel glanced back several times – expressionlessly – towards Bruce.

But then she was gone, and Bruce was left alone once more.

* ** ***** * ** * * * ** * *

“Lieutenant?” Rookie Detective Ramirez sped up her pace as she struggled to catch up with the head of MCU. “The Joker card pinned to the body? Forensics found three sets of DNA..”

She held up the ream of paperwork she was clutching as if to prove her point.

“Any matches?” Gordon inquired. He slowed his pace and turned to face her. The detective wore a grim expression.

“All three.” She replied in a final tone. “The DNA belongs to Judge Surrillo, Harvey Dent, and Commissioner Loeb.”

“The Joker’s telling us who he’s targeting.” Gordon spoke in an uncharacteristically quiet tone, but it soon rose again. “Get a unit out to Surrillo’s house, tell Wuertz where to find Dent – get them both into protective custody. Where’s the Commissioner?”

“City hall.”

“Seal the building – No one in or out ‘till I get there.”

“Got it!”

His star rookie sprinted back toward the exit, and Gordon was off to City Hall.

* ** ***** * ** * * * ** * *

“Gordon, what are you up to?”

Gordon entered through a tight police presence at the doors, to find Commissioner Loeb flanked by armed cops. He checked the windows, delaying an answer to Loeb’s inquisition, then turned to address his men.

“We’re secure. I want a floor-by-floor of the entire building.” He ordered, dispatching several of the armed men. Gordon then turned to the commissioner.

“I’m sorry, sir. We believe the Joker has made a threat against your life.”

The commissioner casually crossed behind his desk and pulled out a tumbler and a bottle of whiskey from a desk drawer.

“Gordon, you’ve unlikely discovered this for yourself, so take my word-the police commissioner earns a lot of threats. I found the appropriate response to these situations a long time ago…”

He sat down and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

“You get to explain to my wife why I’m late to dinner, Lieutenant.”

Gordon, not calmed by Loeb’s un-harried approach, protested.

“Sir, the Joker card had traces of your DNA on it…”

Stephens, another one of Gordon’s favorites, hurried in, holding a list of suspicious figures in the building. Loeb stood up, swirling the whiskey around in his glass.

“How’d they get my DNA?”

“Someone with access to your house or office must have lifted a tissue or a glass.” He took a look at the list Stephens offered, then did a double take as Loeb raised the glass to his lips.

“No - wait! Wait!”

But Loeb was already choking. He dropped his tumbler onto the desk, the spilled liquid smoking, eating into the wood. He collapsed on the floor wheezing and clutching his chest.

“Get a medic!” Gordon shouted, trying to steady the commissioner.

But there was nothing he, or anyone, could do at that point.

* ** ***** * ** * * * ** * *

Two men in official-looking suits knocked at a Brownstone home. The door was opened by Judge Surrillo, and two shiny badges were promptly shoved in her face. After a brief brawl, the two men finally convinced her to leave town.

“But y’all aren’t giving me a whole lot of information…”

“These are dangerous people, Judge. Even we don’t know where you’re going.” The first man replied. The second handed her a manila envelope.

“Get in, open the envelope. It’ll tell you where you’re headed.”

Surrillo climbed into her car reluctantly, and watched the pair drive away. She then turned on the envelope held in her hand. After a brief inspection of the address sticker on the front, she flipped it over and slit open the seal. She pulled out a single piece of crisp, white paper. There was only one word printed on it:

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UP

Before Surrillo had time to even to process the page, her car imploded, heaving the vehicle upward on a fireball. A passerby was thrown to the ground from the force of the explosion. After a moment, burning debris fluttered to the ground, amongst which were playing cards. Every one of them a Joker.

* ** ***** * ** * * * ** * *

Tonight…

Why must those words ring so ominously?

Selina couldn’t put her finger on it, but something – something sickened and deranged – about this Joker character made her shiver like she hadn’t in ages. Moreover, she wondered if he would truly keep his word.

How many people will die tonight?

“Selina? Are you listening?”

She clicked back to the here-and-now; after 40 minutes of frivolous chatter, Selina was struggling to stay focused.

Dana sighed, causing her frilly dress to shudder over her frail body.

“I was just saying – Pierre, you too,” She nudged her husband out of a passing snack tray. “That, I mean, how can you live in a city like this?”

“Well, the crime rate has dropped significantly in the last few-”

“No, I don’t mean in that way. I mean the kind of city that looks up to a vigilante. And a masked one at that.”

Selina downed the remainder of her champagne while she struggled to find an appropriate and contained response to this.

“Well, why shouldn’t we be proud of an ordinary citizen standing up for the innocent? For justice?” Selina placed the empty glass down on a platter and gave Mrs. Chavez a reproachful look.

“I would hardly call what he does ‘justice’…” Dana grumbled. Selina just smiled, and pretended to reconsider her stance.

As Selina struggled to control her violent streak, Dana eventually drifted away to her husband. Selina turned away from the vacant space. Her eyes caught on some motion in the corner; the elevator doors sliding opening.

Someone’s late…

But that someone had actually arrived precisely when he intended to.

“We made it!”

A balding detective, petrified with fear, was pushed to the floor flat on his face. But it was the person behind that made Selina’s blood run cold. An earsplitting gunshot fired into the air confirmed