Chapter 27

BRUCE WAYNE

After nearly two months, Wayne Manor was alive once more as he strutted through the garden, inching closer towards the empty seat in front of Thomas, who, while still confined to a wheelchair, seemed to be looking quite well.

"So, how does it feel to be home?" he questioned as he plopped down on the chair. As Thomas looked up, the frown on his temple vanished.

"Good, quite good. I was getting tired of being stuck up in the Hospital," he replied as he closed the newspaper and pushed it on the table.

"You have been rather busy," he said as he pointed towards the headline, which once more as much during these two months was taken up by none other than Batman.

The mass breakouts from the prisons had filled the city with criminals once more, and the police were more or less ineffective in dealing with all the gangs and such. So, it was up to him to deal with these people.

He just stuck up a brow.

"What can I say? Someone had to step up in the absence of Gotham's White Knight," he teased, and Thomas shrugged.

"From the way, things are going, and our new Mayor seems to be behaving, that title will soon be taken from me," he said, and he was right,

The newly elected Mayor, Anthony Gonzales, was, for some odd reason, very vocal in his opinion about Thomas Wayne and how much he disliked the billionaire despite the whole city hailing him as a hero after what he and his company had done for the city at great peril to himself.

"Do you think he was behind it?" Bruce questioned about the incident that had taken place at the hospital when Thomas and his entourage had been rained down with pamphlets smearing not just his name but putting in the spotlight his relationship with Selina Kyle.

Somehow, the newspapers had gotten wind of her connection with the Falcone, and now half the tabloids were using this to smear Thomas's and hers's name.

"No," Thomas answered, his tone dark and serious, as he took something out of his pocket and swung it towards him.

"That was someone else," he said as Bruce caught what Thomas had flung into the air. It was a card. A card from Poker, the Joker.

Something which he wasn't seeing for the first time.

"You need my help with this," he asked, and Thomas didn't answer.

"I will tell you when I do," he said as Thomas leaned back in his chair.

"Speaking of that, I had a talk with Rachel about you," Thomas suddenly cut in, surprising him for Rachel had yet to give him an answer, something which was eating away at him.

This was a positive development.

"What did she say?" he asked.

"She seemed conflicted about everything; she seems to be struggling to come to terms with what you do," he told her, and he had reasoned out that much.

"I know," he replied, even as his lips thinned.

"Fox wants to talk to you as well. He wanted to visit you at the Hospital but was too busy at the company," he replied as Thomas nodded.

"Speaking of that, how's the reconstruction of the Tower going? I didn't have time to check on that," he questioned.

"It finished a week ago, thankfully the damage wasn't severe enough to damage the structural integrity of the Tower," and indeed, for while the Waynes were rich, reconstructing the whole Wayne Tower wouldn't have been easy for them.

"Good, then I might visit the company tomorrow; I have been away for too long already," Thomas said, and his eyes shifted towards the wheelchair as he concernedly asked.

"Will you be fine?"

"Yeah, I will be," came the answer and if Bruce saw Thomas's fists ball up, and the skin around his eyes crinkle he didn't contest on that as he twisted the joker card in his fingers.

Just who was this guy.

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SALVATORE MARONI

The atmosphere became extremely tense as the door flung open and the intruder entered the Hall, dressed in a purple suit and his green hair, white paint caked on his face with lips drawn on with red pain, that covered what seemed to be scars on his cheeks.

This meeting had been called together for they had realised that this was the best and only time for them to act, the upheaval that had occurred during the attack on Gotham had given them all a new life, yet they all saw it for what it was.

Temporary. For Thomas Wayne still lived, and as long as he lived it was impossible for them to regain the control they had lost. Attempts had been made at his life, yet they had all been thwarted.

And so this parley had been called, the first of its kind for they knew that their survival lay in unity. Otherwise, the two knights of Gotham would eat them alive.

"Tada!" the man joked as he spread his arms wide, and Maroni didn't miss how the lining of his jacket had bombs sewn into it and raised a hand, stopping his men from gunning down the man.

"Who are you?" Gambol was quick to ask, and his eyes narrowed at the man.

"Mee! I am just a helpful clown looking for entertainment," the man answered with a sing-song voice.

"You are the clown," Igor cut in, and the purple-suited man nodded.

"Yes, indeed it seems some of you have heard of me, though i prefer to go by Joker," he continued.

And he had as well, though through only whispers. He was an upcoming criminal, a crazy one who went after anyone and everyone. An anomaly with no name and history.

"Why shouldn't I blow off your head right here you clown," Gambol screeched and the clown waved his finger.

"You could," he said as if he wasn't talking about his own life.

"But then, who would tell you that none of your plans would work," he continued, ridiculing them all.

Gambol was enraged at the insult. The man had always had a short temper, yet Igor seemed interested as he leaned back.

"And you think you have a better plan to deal with him," Igor questioned, and the clown nodded comically, his movements animated and exaggerated.

"Yes, I do," he replied.

"And what is it?" Maroni questioned, finally deciding to listen to what the clown had to say.

He saw his face turn towards him, a small shift in his expression as his smile widened.

"It is interesting that it is you asking that question," he continued, making him frown.

"But you see, I have a policy I don't help criminals for free," and now it began to clear up.

The clown was after money.

"How much?" he asked.

"Half of everything," the man said.

"Have you gone mad," Gambol shouted as he got up.

"No, I believe it was a fair offer considering that you wish to take down the city's richest and most powerful man," the joker continued.

"Batman is not your problem. No, he is dangerous, alright, but he is a myth, a legend. He may incite fear in you, but Thomas Wayne-Ohhh, he is different. He has removed your fear from the people, he has eroded away at your power, decimating your image throughout the underworld, slowly, and has reduced you all to...."

He came to a halt as he leaned forward and looked them all in the eye.

"...crying little babies!" and he could see Gambol getting flushed at those words.

"He is beating you all at your own game, and you are all here twiddling your thumbs,"

"Enough!" Gambol stood up and struck the table.

BANG!

"Not so fast! Not so fast, you see," the clown said as he backed off and tilted his jacket, showing off the bombs strapped to the inside.

"I will leave my calling card here, so you can contact me when you ultimately decide to hire me. You will see a sample of my work in the news tomorrow," and with that the man ran off towards the centre.

"And you better decide quickly because you don't have much time," and with that, he walked off, giving them all a short bow.

"After him!" Gambol shouted as him and Igor motioned for their med to do the same, yet a part of him felt that this was not going to be fruitful if the man had invade this space, eh would have prepared an escape plan as well.

"What did he mean by that?" Gambol asked, the question which was on all of their minds until Igor called off.

"You girl, get me something to eat," he said to a waitress standing behind him.

"Yes, of course, sir," and he watched as she moved away, accepting his command.

And had he noticed, he would have realized that this was not a regular waitress. No, her name was Talia, as displayed on her badge.

Yet what was more important was that the second name was left unwritten.

A day later, deep in the underground of Gotham City, in the darkness, a man sat infront of an old TV watching a clip of Thomas Wayne stepping out of his hospital as he was showered with pamphlets.

One of which eh held in his own hands, as he looked at the face of the girl highlighted.

"Interesting!" he eked out, his voice a husky murmur, for his face was covered by a mask, a mask which kept him alive.

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