The "Why So Serious? Gotham City Noir" RPG

[Byrd Man]

​

Wayne Manor

Alfred looks at me in the mirror as I finish with my tuxedo tie.

"Something wrong?"

"No, sir. I'm just reveling in your discomfort."

I shake my head as I finish with my tux and turn to Alfred.

"Everything set?"

"Of course."

I make my way from my walk-in closet and out towards the massive foyer at the front of the house with Alfred right behind me.

Alfred's wants a show. I'll give him a show.

"Very well then. Let the party begin."

"Quite so."​

 

[Eddie Brock]

The Joker had heard about Harvey's party. Word travels fast in Gotham, and there's very little that the madman doesn't know about - a scary, but true, reality. The Joker felt full of glee as he imagined so many targets in one place. It was a perfect time to make his influence known to those who were still surprisingly ignorant.

Too many people regarded The Joker as just a killer. But he was so much more! He was an artist - painting with his victims' blood. He was a musician - orchestrating a symphony of screams. He was an idol - one that Gotham would come to respect...or else. Though killing was The Joker's pastime, his goals reached far higher into the sky.

Batman's intervention had left the criminal underworld in shambles. The fall of Falcone created a huge hole for someone new to take control of organized crime. And though others like Maroni had long pined for such an opportunity, The Joker would not rest until his gang reigned supreme. Once The Joker had seized control of crime, he would inevitably seize control over Gotham itself.

Gotham would fall, with many more cities to follow it. The Joker and his men would work their way up to Washington D.C. Then, with America safely in hand, The Joker would turn the country - and subsequently the world - into his own playground. And soon, everyone would subscribe to one philosophy - The Joker's!

It would be a perfect, crazy world.

But first, The Joker needed to concentrate on the task at hand. He had stalked his elusive prey for some time. But now, he needed to catch this man before the party. For The Joker - though he'd never admit it - needed help.

Help from...

"Jonathan Crane," The Joker hissed as he approached his target. Tonight, the goal was not murder. Crane could prove to be useful.

Crane was instantly distressed at his pursuer's appearance. Crane had heard about The Joker, but ever since the Narrows incident, Crane had fled from Gotham until he could perfect his plan. Crane, as well as so many others, was disgusted by The Joker's strategy. Likewise, he came to fear the madman.

Crane stumbled out of his chair and raced out of the restaurant where he was previously staying. The Joker smiled as his prey took off. The chase was on.

Crane needed only a minute to get his gas ready. He had been caught off-guard, and it had frightened him.

"You know," The Joker begins as he methodically stalks Crane down a dark alleyway, "I'm a big fan, Jonathan. Or is it Scarecrow? A man such as myself can appreciate the humor of a psychopath running the madhouse."

Crane scrambled frantically for a small canister. Once he found it, he ducked behind a wall and panted slowly. He waited patiently until The Joker turned the corner. Then, Crane popped out and unleashed his 'Fear Gas' on his attacker.

"Feel fear surround you!"

Something happened after that frightened Crane more than anything he had experienced before. The Joker merely stared at Crane with a dull expression. Much to Jonathan's horror, his gas had no effect on The Joker.

If that was true, then what horrors was this man truly capable of?

The Joker seemingly ignored Crane's outburst as he continued, "You're something of a chemist. I am too, you see." The Joker motioned to his makeup. "Smear-free! However, my skills are not adept enough for my next trick. I require someone of your expertise."

Crane was cornered. He had nowhere to run, his gas was useless, and Crane had no physical prowess to brag about. Crane received a natural dose of his own medicine - fear.

"W-w-what do you want?" Crane asked nervously, his voice cracking.

The Joker leaned in and smiled. "Come. Let's talk."
​

 

[Gallagher]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part I

The Next Day:

My head was still swirling from the events of the previous evening. The madman's reckless slaughter of innocent people still fresh in my mind. Still, Harvey Dent isn't so easily defeated. I had a party to attend.

I sat in the back of my black sedan the driver whistles as we enter the grounds of Wayne Manor. "Not gonna be too crowded thats for sure." He quipped as we drove up the path and stopped outside the grand double doors.

"Thanks Geoff." I smile as I hop out of the vehicle and smooth my self over, I felt a slight pang of guilt wearing such an expensive suit to a 'fund raiser' but appearance in my line of work is everything. People are fickle.

The hired help opened the doors for me as I entered the enormous hall of Wayne Manor. I spot the host on the other side of the room.

"Mr Wayne." I call out.

 

[Eddie Brock]

IC: RED HOOD

I hate Gotham City. Let's get this out of the way before we get to anything else. My loathing of this rotten pit of human wasteland is unmatched by any of its residents. It's the most crooked, corrupt city in the entire world. Harlem, Camden, East Saint Louis - Hell, even Hub City - all pale in comparison to this barren tundra of crime and evil.

Now, let's get to my life story. I promise it'll be mildly interesting. I wish I could tell you about my father, but that good-for-nothing deadbeat got the Hell out of here when he found out my mother was pregnant. Oh! My mother! She's a trip! Nothing but a lousy meth-addict who slept with half of the male population in Gotham. It's no wonder the **** got pregnant. I'm not sure if she stopped doing drugs during her pregnancy. Knowing how stupid she was, she probably didn't. Maybe it's why I'm so f**ked up. Who knows?

Anyway, big surprise, Mom ditched me. You can't afford diapers and crystal meth, so guess who got the short end of the stick? As if that wasn't bad enough, the ****e didn't even care enough to take me to an orphanage or whatever. She just left me on the streets.

I was seven years old. And she left me to fend for myself on the dirty, dangerous streets of the world's most depressing city. Wonderful woman, wasn't she?

Well, it's been a little over ten years, but it feels like a damn century. I've done a lot of things that a normal person would be horrified at. But when you're starving and cold, your convictions tend to go out the window. I'm not saying I'm proud of any of it, but survival instincts come first. It only took three years alone to realize that I needed a knife. So what did I do? I beat the s*** out of a guy and took his knife.

I won't go into further detail. No, I didn't kill him, but I'd rather not talk about what came next.

Many times I've had to pull that knife. When you're a 'helpless' teenager on the street, you instantly become a target. The only way to protect yourself is to make others fear you. And if that means fighting dirty, so be it. You have to do whatever it takes to survive.

Well, I'm done with 'memory lane.' I think you get the point. My life may be horrible, but it's merely a product of my environment.

Not anymore.

Batman has changed things, sure. But he's afraid to take every step necessary. So are the cops, but what else is new? Someone has to protect this city and all the scumbags in it. Yeah, they may be scumbags, but they're innocent scumbags. Not like the scumbags I'm going to hunt. The men I'm after deserve everything I give them - and more.

Criminals may fear The Knight, but soon...they'll be seeing red.
​

 

[Eddie Brock]

The Joker's encounter with Scarecrow soon comes to an end. The Clown Prince of Crime has received what he's asked for, and he leaves his horrified accomplice alone. There's no reason to kill Crane - not now, anyway. Besides, if there's anything wrong with the first batch, The Joker will need Crane alive to try again. However, The Joker still feels overjoyed by the fact that Crane will have trouble sleeping for the next few nights.

Now, The Joker needs to make sure that his new weapon is effective. So he decides to visit an old friend, John Jenks. Jenks is a one-time supplier of unique weapons for The Joker - such as the Killer Jack-in-the-Box. But Jenks is a cowardly fool, and he almost spilled the beans on The Joker's operation. He'll make a perfect test subject.

Jenks, like so many before him, found himself reluctantly in the employment of The Joker. Money talks, but it practically screams when the alternative is death. With a blade to his throat, and a well-paying job offer on the table, Jenks agreed to make whatever The Joker needed. It was a decision that he still harbors guilt for.

Jenks was working quietly in his warehouse. He always was a loner - something that would betray him on this night. As he toiled away, creating a custom machine gun, he heard someone enter the warehouse.

"Johnny? Heeeeeeeeeeeeeere's JOKER!" the madman calls out, making his presence known.

The sound of that voice sends chills down Jenks' spine. "Leave me alone!" he calls out, pleading for his life. Jenks scrambles, looking for something to protect himself with. For a weapon manufacturer, he has trouble finding anything. His heartbeat begins to race.

The Joker continues to walk forward in his personal staggering style. The Joker quite enjoys the hunt, and he really enjoys slowly approaching his prey. Tension makes the kill more satisfying.

"I need one final favor from you, Johnny. And then you will be free from my services," The Joker promises. He stealthily reaches into his pocket and wraps his gloved fingers around the small canister.

Jenks calls out in desperation, "What? What is it?"

The Joker wraps his palm around the concealed metal container. "I simply need you to breathe," he hisses softly as he breaks open the canister on the floor in front of him.

A hideous purple gas begins to fill the room. The Joker merely stands, soaking it all in. His natural immunity to Fear Gas carries over into this new creation.

"What is this? I feel..."

"Strange?"

Jenks begins to cough as he nods. Suddenly, his coughing becomes more violent. What comes after, however, is infinitely more terrifying.

"Heh. Heh heh. Hehe. Ha. Haha. Hahaha. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

The Joker stares on in admiration as his victim breaks down into uncontrollable fits of laughter. Jenks looks up to see his attacker. The look in Jenks' eyes screams utter fear - which contrasts eerily with the unnaturally large smile on his face. Finally, one silent tear runs down Jenks' face as his laughing ceases and his smile freezes. And like that, he collapses on the floor - a smile permanently formed on his dead face.

"Batch 1: Success. Now, if you'll excuse me, Johnny - I have a party to get ready for!"
​

 

[Eddie Brock]

IC: LIEUTENANT GORDON

"Hold still," Barbara commands. I reluctantly steady myself so she can put the finishing touches on my bowtie. When she's done, she takes a step back, examines it, and happily states, "There! The world will never know that James Gordon can't tie his own bowtie."

It feels a little tight, so I loosen it slightly. I pull on the lapels of my jacket and straighten everything out. "How do I look?"

"Like the day I married you," Barbara replies with a smile. "Same mustache and everything."

"Give Babs and Jimmy my best," I request. I grab my car keys as I prepare for the drive to Wayne Manor for this fancy party.

Barbara frowns. "Do you have to go, Jim?" she pleads. Oh, how I wish I could oblige. But there are important matters to be dealt with tonight.

"Honey, I want to show my support for Harvey Dent," I remind my wife, "He's one of the few honest politicians. With him on the courts and Batman in the streets, Gotham may actually become a safer place."

"I suppose so," she sighs. I know she supports my endless crusade, but I can see where it interferes with our love life. "But is it so wrong that I want to spend the night with my husband?" she asks while absent-mindedly running her fingers down my coat.

"You were welcome to come," I explain to her again. I don't know why I try - her response is always the same.

"No, thank you. A lavish party at Bruce Wayne's mansion? The amounts of snobbishness and gluttony you will encounter there..."

I smile. My wife never desired the 'rich' life. She despised those pretentious millionaire types. Though, from what I've seen, we can trust Mr. Wayne - even if he acts a little wild and irrational from time-to-time.

"It's an occupational hazard, darling. I'll be back by midnight."

And I hold the car keys in my hand as I make my way out the door. Here's hoping I can survive being in a room with so many artsy-fartsy people for the night.
​

 

[Harlekin]

AT THE PARTY

“Susan! Such a delight!” the man and the woman called Susan kiss each other on the cheek as they meet. Another man stands to the sight, taking a slow drag from his cigarette.
“Who’s your companion?” she asks, her voice a little huskily.
“Oh, this? This is Floyd… Floyd, really sorry dear chap, what did you say your name was?”
“Floyd. Floyd Lawton.”
“A pleasure to meet you. Susan Gayle,” the woman says as she extends her hand. Like a true gentleman, Floyd Lawton bows down to kiss it, but the boredom can be plainly read from his face as he does so. Susan either doesn’t notice or ignores it as she suppresses a giggle.

* * *​

“This is Alan Scott, from Gotham Broadcasting, I’m sure you’ve… heard of him!” the man exclaims, already laughing at his own joke before delivering it. As a courtesy, the men around him laugh along, their boisterous laughs echoing throughout the room.
“You slay me, Tony, really.”
“So…” the man pauses for a moment to choose his words carefully. “Scott, what do you think of these madmen running around on the streets today? It seems like you have an endless supply of news.”
“That’s not particularly something I enjoy, Westwood,” Alan Scott replies, and Westwood can’t help but take a step back. “They need to lock these men up and throw away the key.”
“You don’t think they can be rehabilitated?”
“Son, take this from an old horse: Men like that are as sane as they’ll ever be.”

* * *​

“What do you think, Chase, really?”
“I think Harvey will make a fine DA,” Adrian Chase responds, taking another sip from his glass. He’s been asked the same question twenty times in the same amount of minutes. Already, he’s tiring of the fake smiles and conversations. He wants to go home, to his family.

* * *​

“What do you think, Harry? We in for a boring night?” Gary Washington asks as he looks at the cameras again. Parked just outside the Wayne estate, the black van attracts a few of the curious, but none dare actually approach the vehicle. A few miniature cameras screen each of the visitors as they approach the gate, looking out for suspicious faces and stolen cars.
“Chances are we’ll get a few celebrity snapshots, but that’s it,” Harry Stein replies as he leans back in his chair, putting his feet onto the desk. “Just another boring night at Wayne manor.”

 

[Cyrusbales]

[?] THE RIDDLER [?]


A discarded newspaper sat atop an oak table, it’s owner disgusted by the level of impetuousness displayed by his adversaries. Leaving a note for a killer in the tabloid? What response did they expect? He was not interested in being the mouse, this was his game to prey as the cat, they should have known that by now, but it seemed he’d have to show them again.

The reaction to this attempt at interaction seemed uncharacteristic as the man paced across the green carpet, muttering curses under his breath. No-one had ever taken much concern or notice of his intellectual musings before, now these people thought they could ‘understand him’ by poising him an ambiguous question?

“All of Gotham City knows them!” He sneers out of the side of his mouth in disgust.

“But they do not know all of Gotham City”, spitting out a few more words in repulsion.

“Who are they?”

His mocking tone would be obvious to even the most ignorant of people, it was clear he was not pleased in the slightest.

“Where’s the syllogistic structure? Where’s the manipulation of language?”

Unable to continue the rant out of pure frustration, he suddenly pauses in thought. A horrific smile turns up the sides of his lips.

“You like riddles do you…..”

 

[MST3K 4ever]

Oswald sits at his desk as Felton Michaels owner of the Palomino Club and Michaels industries comes storming into his office. His bodyguards stand in front of Oswald but Oswald uses his umbrella to gently push his guards aside.

He says, "Gentlemen while I applaud your willingness to protect me I have been expecting Mr. Michaels. If you would be so kind as to wait outside and see to it that no one disturbs us at this time. Oh and Terrence see when the next time the fish are to be fed."

Terrence nods and leaves with the other bodyguard.

Oswald looks at Michaels and says, "Please have a seat Felton. Can I offer you a beverage of some sort?"

Fleton growls and says, "I'll settle for your head on a platter Cobblepot."

Oswald arches an eyebrow slightly and says, "Why Felton I detect a sense of hostility towards me? Whatever for?"
Felton says, "You know damn well why I'm hostile!"

Oswald says, "Ahh yes that matter about me taking over your club and your company. I assure that it is all perfectly legal and any lawyer in Gotham would tell you that as well. Your company is a publicly traded company and I bought out the remaining shares and also several of your other stockholders were willing to sell to me as well. It is all perfectly legal and smart business as well. Your club is in a prime location and I have no intention of dismmising anyone on the staff either. Your company is a consistent Fortune 500 company and is expected to see serious gorwth over the next year thanks to those contracts you locked up in Japan and England."

He lights a cigarette and takes a drag on it.

Oswald then says,"I am just looking to make some minor changes, such as appointing your ex-wife to the board of directors and making her my executive C-E-O and manager of the club. Those changes I am assuming you are so hostile about. Don't worry I full intend to be nothing more than a silent partner your ex-wife will be the one running day to day operations."

Felton says, "None of my keys work or access codes for that matter. My staff has been told to ignore me Cobblepot I built that company from the ground up and I'll be damned before I let you and that gold-digging b**** steal it from me."

Oswald says, "Again Felton such language I don't know how much more I can take. As I stated previously everything is prefectly legal you don't have a single legal leg to stand on in this matter. The only left for me to say is...you're fired."

Felton stands up and pulls out a gun and says, "Screw you Cobblepot. This gun has no numbers on it or anything I kill you no way it ever gets traced back to me."

Just then the bodyguards re-enter and quickly disarm Felton. He struggles a bit and says, "All-right you win Oswald. Let me go and I'll leave Gotham."

Oswald chuckles a bit and says, "Oh my dear Felton that boat has already sailed. Terrence when are the fish due to be fed next?"

He replies, "In the next twenty minutes."

Oswald says, "Well I have noticed that lately they have looked a bit under-nourished. Go ahead and feed them there usual meal and make sure Mr. Michaels joins them for their feeding as well."

Felton's eyes grow wide and says, "No you can't do that. Please Oswald...have mercy on me..please!"

Oswald says, "Felton, Felton mercy is a gift from God. He is merciful beyond words that however is a character flaw I do not share."
He nods at Terrence and Felton is dragged from the office screaming.

Oswald looks at the other bodyguard and says, "Harold see to it that Felton's car is disposed of in a proper manner. Then you and Terrence of cleaning up the tank in time for business tonight."
Harold nods and leaves.

Oswald picks up the phone and calls Felton's ex-wife.

He says, "Hello Oliva this is Oswald Cobblepot...delightful thank you very much...I just thought I would inform you that I have followed through on my end of our deal...yes yes Felton will never trouble you again and the information you gave me about the company will be most useful..."

 

[Byrd Man]

"Mr Wayne." I call out.

I've made my way through the party, putting on my act and socializing with everyone. Dent calls out to me and I smile.

"There he is, the man of the hour. Harvey!"

We shake hands and I pat him on the back.

"Eat up and drink as much booze as you can, it's on my tab afterall."

I laugh and take a giant gulp of the club soda in my hand that looks like champagne.

 

[Gallagher]

I've made my way through the party, putting on my act and socializing with everyone. Dent calls out to me and I smile.

"There he is, the man of the hour. Harvey!"

We shake hands and I pat him on the back.

"Eat up and drink as much booze as you can, it's on my tab afterall."

I laugh and take a giant gulp of the club soda in my hand that looks like champagne.

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part II

"I have to thank you again for doing this Bruce." I say reaching for the no-doubt incredibly expensive Champagne. "Your a great help, and a good man. Hopefully one day I can pay you back somehow. Lord knows I owe you one."

 

[Byrd Man]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part II

"I have to thank you again for doing this Bruce." I say reaching for the no-doubt incredibly expensive Champagne. "Your a great help, and a good man. Hopefully one day I can pay you back somehow. Lord knows I owe you one."

I force a laugh that makes me almost hate myself.

"Ha! Harvey, you want to repay me? Do it by being the best DA Gotham has ever seen."

I place my hand on his shoulder, my face get's serious as the playboy persona vanishes.

"I believe in Gotham CIty too, Mr. Dent. I also believe in Harvey Dent."

 

[Gallagher]

I force a laugh that makes me almost hate myself.

"Ha! Harvey, you want to repay me? Do it by being the best DA Gotham has ever seen."

I place my hand on his shoulder, my face get's serious as the playboy persona vanishes.

"I believe in Gotham CIty too, Mr. Dent. I also believe in Harvey Dent."

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part III

I notice a visible change in the young Wayne's demeanor and attitude. Frankly it was startling. I look him in the eyes and see the same fire that drives me.

"Thanks for your support Bruce." I say with a genuine smile and a pat on the shoulder. "So, what's your take on the Batman situation? Nutball? Or genuine help?"

 

[Byrd Man]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part III

I notice a visible change in the young Wayne's demeanor and attitude. Frankly it was startling. I look him in the eyes and see the same fire that drives me.

"Thanks for your support Bruce." I say with a genuine smile and a pat on the shoulder. "So, what's your take on the Batman situation? Nutball? Or genuine help?"

I laugh, putting my defenses back up.

"Like I told my friends when this whacko showed up, a guy who dresses as a bat clearly has issues. But he's doing good in Gotham. I hope he gets the nicest cell in Arkham when they catch him."

 

[Gallagher]

I laugh, putting my defenses back up.

"Like I told my friends when this whacko showed up, a guy who dresses as a bat clearly has issues. But he's doing good in Gotham. I hope he gets the nicest cell in Arkham when they catch him."

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part IV

I smiled and nodded. "My sentiments exactly. But as long as theres people like this... Joker... around, we may need extreme examples. Oh god, I'm sorry Mr Wayne here I am boring you with my ramblings. Enjoy the party. It's on you after all." I laugh as we part ways. "Time to mingle." I say as I chuckle, determined to enjoy myself for once.

 

[Eddie Brock]

IC: LIEUTENANT GORDON

I finally arrive at Wayne's swanky party, and I feel myself sigh as I make my way up the steps to the front door. The place is already packed, and I can hear the noise from out here. God help me survive tonight.

After entering the door, I am approached by a British man - the butler, I presume. "Excuse me, sir, but can I take your coat?" he asks politely.

I grip onto my trenchcoat. "No, thank you," I respond equally politely. Call it paranoia, call it cautiousness - but I like to keep my coat on me. I carry my badge and gun in there when I'm off-duty, and I like to be prepared for everything.

And with so many high-profile guests tonight, I don't think it's entirely unreasonable to be safe. There's no limit on how many people want to see Harvey - and others like him - dead.
​

 

[Harlekin]

“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“He isn’t responding. I knew this was a longshot,” Del Arrazio angrily says as he slams down a copy of the Gotham Gazette on his desk. It’s the second day they’ve printed the ad with the riddle, calling out the Riddler. There’s been no response.
“Give it time,” his partner, Joely Bartlett replies as she smiles and looks up at him. “Guys like this, they’ve got a modus operandi. These riddles are important to him. He’ll respond.”
“What we should be doing is tracking him down!” Del Arrazio replies, exasperated with the case.
“How?”

Del Arrazio sighs. His partner is right. There are no leads.

“We can’t let him keep doing this, Joe,” he says as he looks to her. It’s obvious he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in a few days now.
“I know.”



“I know.”

 

[Gallagher]

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part V

"...And so I said to the 'Rabbi, Hey, Why not just cut it down?'" Everyone laughed at my corny jokes and playful anecdotes. Some genuine, some false. I grin at them all as I squint toward the doors, looking for more people to bore. Someone catches my eye. "Excuse me ladies and gentlemen. Have a great night."

IC: LIEUTENANT GORDON

I finally arrive at Wayne's swanky party, and I feel myself sigh as I make my way up the steps to the front door. The place is already packed, and I can hear the noise from out here. God help me survive tonight.

After entering the door, I am approached by a British man - the butler, I presume. "Excuse me, sir, but can I take your coat?" he asks politely.

I grip onto my trenchcoat. "No, thank you," I respond equally politely. Call it paranoia, call it cautiousness - but I like to keep my coat on me. I carry my badge and gun in there when I'm off-duty, and I like to be prepared for everything.

And with so many high-profile guests tonight, I don't think it's entirely unreasonable to be safe. There's no limit on how many people want to see Harvey - and others like him - dead.
​

"Lieutennent Gordon!" I say practically jogging over to the man. He looked on edge, from what I've heard he always does. "Harvey Dent." I say shaking his hand. "I've heard so much about you."

 

[Apprentice]

IC: RACHEL DAWES
​

Rachel took the time to rush back to her apartment and don a silky scarlet dress before signalling a taxi and directing it towards Wayne Manor. Although she usually enjoyed engaging the driver in light, empty comversation, she ensured that the journey was a silent one. Her body ached and throbbed as a result of her previously sustained injuries and the impromptu combat that she had thrown herself into. Her skills had been honed only by several year-old self-defence classes and minimal training from Lieutenant Gordon, both of which had only led her to success in the brawl due to the surprise element. The thugs had into expected her to strike first, and neither had Montoya; even though her muscles were sore and weary, the Assistant District Attorney was pleased that she had made her point.

The automobile halted at the back of a small queue of cars within the gates of the Wayne Estate. Rachel politely thanked the driver, pressed a number of crinkled green bills into his palm, and slipped out of her seat, her stilettos indenting themselves into the gravel as she walked. Clutching her purse close to her chest and drawing a translucent red shawl around her shoulders, she ascended the oh-so-familiar stone steps and followed a trail of guests into the foyer. There, an assemblage of freshly-dressed staff awaited, their black-and-white garments perfectly straight and neat. A young man moved to Rachel's side within moments, politely enquiring as to her needs. Her lips parted as she began to reply, only for an aged Englishman, also impeccably attired in a tuxedo, to interject.​

"I'll assist this particular guest, Jonathan," Alfred Pennyworth said softly.

As the waiter nodded and turned away, Rachel smiled warmly. "Alfred. It's good to see you."

"And you, Miss," Alfred responded, reaching around to remove her shawl. As he began to carefully fold it, he remarked, "I'm terribly sorry to hear about your ghastly attack. I came to visit, but a brisk young policewoman informed me that you were in protective custody."

Rachel reached up and tapped her nose in a mock conspiratorial manner. "I'm still supposed to be. Sh!"

A lopsided grin tugged at Alfred's lips. "I won't tell a soul about your great escape." He paused. "You know...Master Bruce was intending on seeing you himself, in the hospital. It's just that he's been very busy."

"You don't have to make his excuses for him, Alfred. I understand." Rachel squeezed her companion's shoulder reassuringly.

Alfred's brow furrowed. "Exuses? Never!" His smirk returned. "I could've said that he was off..." He glanced about, and seeing that the hubbub of the guests was drowning out their conversation, continued. "...taking care of those nasty men that attacked you. But you did a good enough number on them yourself, eh?"

"Yes. It was all very Calamity Jane of me," Rachel quipped, chuckling. "Of course, it took a pretty heavy toll on me, too."

Alfred took her hands in his own, his rough-hewn skin brushing against her own. "If there's anything I - or, Master Bruce, for that matter - can do for you, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks, Alfred," she murmured genuinely, befofre excusing herself and blending into the crowd. She felt a hand close over her shoulder and span, startled by the sensation. "Oh!"

"Sorry to scare you!" Adrian Chase exclaimed, embracing his colleague excitedly. "It's great to see you back on your feet, Rachel!"

"I've missed you, Adrian," Rachel admitted, honesty filling her tone. "I really wanna have a long chat with you about everything that's been happening at the office, but I need to show my face to the boss first. You know how it is."

"I certainly do." Adrian leaned across to her and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. "Hurry back."

As he fell back into the general throng, Rachel reached up and proved her cheek with an errant digit. "Well..."

"Rachel? Aren't you supposed to be in protective custody?"

The voice caused Rachel to turn to face its owner - "Bruce!"

 

[Byrd Man]

​

The voice caused Rachel to turn to face its owner - "Bruce!"​

"Rachel!"

Rachel Dawes is my oldest friend and one of the few people who know about my double life.​

We hug for a brief moment. The over acting is part of my act, and she knows this, but I am really revleaved to see her again.

"I heard about your recent run in with the Moxon Family's goons."

My voice drops down to a slight whisper. To everyone else, my voice is being drowned out by the noises of the party. But Rachel can hear me well.

"I promise you, I'll bring The Moxon's to justice for this."

As well as being my friend, she's also my connection into the Gotham DA's office and sometimes, even The Batman needs help.

"So, what's the good word in the DA's office?"

 

[Apprentice]

"Rachel!"

Rachel Dawes is my oldest friend and one of the few people who know about my double life.[/left]

We hug for a brief moment. The over acting is part of my act, and she knows this, but I am really revleaved to see her again.

"I heard about your recent run in with the Moxon Family's goons."

My voice drops down to a slight whisper. To everyone else, my voice is being drowned out by the noises of the party. But Rachel can hear me well.

"I promise you, I'll bring The Moxon's to justice for this."

As well as being my friend, she's also my connection into the Gotham DA's office and sometimes, even The Batman needs help.

"So, what's the good word in the DA's office?"

Rachel removed herself from Bruce's firm grasp, her brow furrowed; the millionaire's ignorance had insulted her, and her injuries seemed to throb even harder. "How would you expect me to know? I was in hospital for three weeks, Bruce, and then thrown into protective custody which I just escaped. This begs the question: did you know all that and just figured that I'd keep in touch with the goings-on at the office?" She paused, ensuring that her tone was cheery and airy enough so as not to attract the atention of the other partygoers. "Or have you been so wrapped up in that big mask of yours that I'm not important enough to get through?"

 

[Byrd Man]

Rachel removed herself from Bruce's firm grasp, her brow furrowed; the millionaire's ignorance had insulted her, and her injuries seemed to throb even harder. "How would you expect me to know? I was in hospital for three weeks, Bruce, and then thrown into protective custody which I just escaped. This begs the question: did you know all that and just figured that I'd keep in touch with the goings-on at the office?" She paused, ensuring that her tone was cheery and airy enough so as not to attract the atention of the other partygoers. "Or have you been so wrapped up in that big mask of yours that I'm not important enough to get through?"

"I-I knew about your stay in the hospital...I keep on telling myself I would go visit, but I never managed to make time. I'm truly sorry for that."

I look into Rachel's eyes, I can't escape her steely grasp.

"I know I can't make up for it, but is there something I could do to show you how sorry I am?"

 

[Apprentice]

"I-I knew about your stay in the hospital...I keep on telling myself I would go visit, but I never managed to make time. I'm truly sorry for that."

I look into Rachel's eyes, I can't escape her steely grasp.

"I know I can't make up for it, but is there something I could do to show you how sorry I am?"

Rachel bowed her head, and an exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "I understand that the city needs you. I know that, and I know what I said to you when you were rebuilding this place. But please, please...let me in. I want to be in your life again, like we were before you underwent your little transformation. Is that possible?"

 

[Byrd Man]

Rachel bowed her head, and an exasperated sigh escaped her lips. "I understand that the city needs you. I know that, and I know what I said to you when you were rebuilding this place. But please, please...let me in. I want to be in your life again, like we were before you underwent your little transformation. Is that possible?"

"Please, Rachel. You have to understand. If anyone found out who I really was, they'd come after everyone I knew and cared about. The Joker, Crane, The mob. Trying to hurt me by hurting you."

I look again, Rachel's stare is still unyielding and unflinching.

 

[Eddie Brock]

A pair of The Joker's goons congregated around the perimeter of Wayne Manor. They stayed a distance away so their conversation could not be overheard.

"What's the plan, again?" the younger-looking one asks the other.

The older one sighs. "Jesus, kid, it's really simple," he replies, sounding very aggravated. "You, me, and the other guys are going to infiltrate this party. Don't draw any attention to yourself."

The younger nods.

"When the Boss sends the signal, we put on our masks--" the man pulls out a clown mask, "--which have been fitted with a special inhaler to function as a gas mask. First, we have to set up the canisters in the locations that the Boss spoke of. When we put our masks on, we activate the switch to release the gas."

"What about this?" the younger asks while motioning to a special gas mask with a note attached. The note reads, PUT ME ON, NOW.

"You need to inconspicuously slip that to Harvey Dent without him seeing you," the other explains.

"Why don't we want Dent to die?"

"Trust me, kid - you don't want to get inside the Boss's head. Now let's go."
​