The Dark Knight Legend Read online

  Gordon smirked and said with a shrug, “He does that.”

  SIXTEEN

  In the Applied Sciences lab, Fox was hard at work redesigning the new suit Bruce had requested.

  Fox explained how this Batsuit was made. “You’ll be lighter, faster, more agile.” Fox paused. “Now, there’s a trade-off. The spread of the plates gives you weak spots.”

  “We wouldn’t want things getting too easy, would we?” This suit, flaws and all, was exactly what he’d been hoping for.

  Bruce put his arm on Fox’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ve always wanted to go to Hong Kong.” He showed Fox a detailed plan for their trip to find and bring back Chairman Lau. To make the plan work, the first thing they needed was a very special kind of airplane.

  Fox knew exactly where to get one.

  In Hong Kong, shortly before day break, Batman crouched on the rooftop of a building directly across from LSI Holdings. The new Batsuit moved comfortably, and the redesigned cowl allowed him the freedom to turn his head with greater ease.

  Batman pulled two black boxes from his Utility Belt and snapped them together to create a high-powered, scope-like rifle.

  Slightly below where he stood was Chairman Lau’s window. Batman fired four times. With each silenced explosion, a sticky bomb attached to the glass of the LSI building. Moving quickly, Batman leaped into the vast space between the two buildings and floated toward a large window. He crashed through the glass.

  Lau’s office door was locked. Batman kicked in the door and swooped down on Chairman Lau. In a lightning-fast move, Batman attached a small pack to Lau’s back, and then, just as he’d planned, the timers on Batman’s four sticky bombs ticked down to zero.

  The police burst into the office just as the wall and ceiling behind Lau and Batman exploded. Batman quickly pulled the rip cord on Lau’s pack. A weather balloon emerged from the pack, filling itself with helium. The balloon floated gently two hundred feet up, attached to Lau by a thin thread of high-test nylon.

  A low rumble filled the room. The rumble grew louder and louder until the thread from Batman’s weather-balloon pack was caught in the nose of a massive, soaring aircraft.

  Lau and Batman were yanked from the building and carried off into the glowing orange-and-yellow sunrise.

  A few days later, Lieutenant Gordon was in his office looking through case files when Detective Ramirez rushed in.

  “You’re gonna want to see this,” she told Gordon.

  He followed her down the stairs and out the front door.

  Chairman Lau was sitting on the ground, tied up and gagged. A sign taped to his chest read: Please deliver to Lieutenant Gordon.

  A few paces away, the media was interviewing Harvey Dent about Lau’s miraculous reappearance.

  “By taking Lau out of Hong Kong, the Chinese government claims its international rights have been broken.” The reporter thrust his microphone into Dent’s face. “How do you respond?”

  “I don’t know about Mr. Lau’s travel arrangements,” Dent said with a small laugh. “But I’m sure glad he’s back.”

  The DA had a plan. If Lau would give them damaging information about the mob, he could charge all of Gotham’s mobsters as one criminal. They would all go down together.

  Lau made a deal with Harvey Dent. In exchange for information, Lau would be given exactly what he wanted: immunity, protection, and a chartered plane back to Hong Kong. They also agreed that Lau would stay at MCU, where Gordon could keep an eye on him, rather than at the county jail.

  Within the hour, SWAT teams were dispatched throughout Gotham City. The police nabbed 549 of the mob’s nastiest thugs, including Sal Maroni.

  The criminals arrived in overcrowded buses at Gotham Municipal Court.

  Paperwork was piled on Judge Surillo’s desk in thick stacks. With more than five hundred defendants, people were squeezed into every nook and cranny of the courtroom.

  She read the charges. “Eight hundred forty-nine counts racketeering. Two hundred forty-six counts fraud. Eighty-seven counts conspiracy murder—” A playing card slid out from between two documents—a joker.

  Judge Surillo set the card aside and began the trial.

  “The public likes you, Dent,” Mayor Garcia told the DA. They were in city hall, across the street from Judge Surillo’s chaotic courtroom. “That’s the only reason this might fly.”

  “They’re all coming after you, now,” he warned. “Not just the mob. Politicians, journalists, cops—anyone whose wallet is about to get lighter without the mob’s money in the hidden lining.” Dent didn’t blink against the mayor’s unwavering stare. “Are you up to it?”

  Dent was ready for anything that might come at him.

  “You better be. If they get anything on you . . . those criminals will be back on the streets.”

  The mayor stepped over to the window and looked outside, adding softly, “Followed swiftly by you and me—”

  Bang!

  A dark shape cracked the glass in front of the mayor’s office.

  “It’s Batman.” Dent stared at the limp body that had hit the mayor’s window. The body was hanging by its neck from the municipal flagpole, cape loosely billowing in the wind.

  Dent rushed outside to get a closer look.

  It wasn’t Batman after all, but an imposter. A joker was pinned to the imitation Batsuit.

  Dent stood by as Lieutenant Gordon read the handwritten note on the playing card aloud: “Will the real Batman please reveal himself?”

  In Bruce Wayne’s plush penthouse, Alfred was busy overseeing the decorations for the Dent fundraiser.

  “How’s it going?” Bruce asked Alfred.

  “I think your fundraiser will be a great success, sir,” Alfred said with a smile.

  Across the bottom of the screen, in a bright bold font, read the words IS BATMAN DEAD?

  An image of a fake Batman filled the screen.

  “Police have released video footage found concealed on the body,” the anchor reported as the tape began to roll.

  Looking straight at the camera, the Joker declared, “You want order in Gotham? Batman has to go.” He leaned in to the screen, his disturbingly comical face filling the picture. “Batman must take off his mask and turn himself in. Every day he doesn’t, people will die. Starting tonight. I am a man of my word.”

  Bruce clicked off the TV and sank back into his couch. He needed a plan.

  Detective Ramirez was in a meeting with Lieutenant Gordon. They’d sent the joker card to the lab to check for fingerprints. The results were in.

  “There are three. They belong to Judge Surillo, Harvey Dent, and Commissioner Loeb,” Ramirez reported.

  Gordon realized that the matches were for the Joker’s future victims. He barked orders at Ramirez. “Get a unit to Surillo’s house. Tell Detective Wuertz to find Dent. Get them both into protective custody.” He surveyed the police working quietly at their desks in MCU. It was the calm before the storm. “Where’s the commissioner?”

  “City hall.”

  Gordon nodded at Ramirez. “Seal the building. No one in or out till I get there.”

  Judge Surillo got into her car. Two men in police uniforms had told her that Gordon wanted her to get safely out of town. Trusting the officers, Surillo started the engine. A second later, her car exploded, heaving upward in a massive fireball.

  From the wreckage, burning playing cards fluttered onto the street.

  Jokers.

  Lieutenant Gordon rushed to Commissioner Loeb. “I’m sorry, sir. We believe the Joker has made a threat against your life,” he said.

  “Take my word for it: The police commissioner earns a lot of threats. I found the appropriate response to these situations a long time ago.”

  Gordon felt that Loeb was being much too calm about the situation. “Sir,” he explained, “the joker card had your fingerprint on it.”
/>   “How’d they get my print?” Loeb asked before taking a drink from the glass on his desk.

  “Somebody with access to your house or office must’ve lifted it off a tissue or a glass,” Gordon said, considering the possibilities. With sudden realization, Gordon shouted, “Wait!”

  Loeb was already choking. He stumbled back, grasping at his throat, gasping for air. Liquid spilled across the desk, and within seconds it was smoking, eating its way through the wood, biting into the metal beneath.

  “Get a medic!” Gordon shouted, even though he knew it was too late.

  Gordon then called Detective Wuertz and ordered him to find Harvey Dent. Quickly.

  Dent was next on the Joker’s list.

  SEVENTEEN

  Bruce arrived late to the Dent fundraiser, making a grand entrance by helicopter. “I’m so glad you started without me!” He held up a copy of Dent’s campaign poster and read the text: “I believe in Harvey Dent.” The poster had an American flag down the center, overlaid with a picture of Harvey.

  “Nice slogan, Harvey,” Bruce said. Then he addressed the crowd: “I started paying attention to Harvey too, and kept my eye on the things he’s been doing as our new DA, and you know what?” Bruce pointed a finger at himself. “Now I believe in Harvey Dent.” A cheer rose from the crowd.

  Bruce rode the wave of applause and continued. “On his watch, Gotham feels a little safer. A little more optimistic. So,” he told his friends, “get out your checkbooks, and let’s make sure that he stays right where all of Gotham wants him!” Alfred passed Bruce a glass, which he raised high in a toast. “To the face of Gotham’s bright future—Harvey Dent.”

  Nodding graciously, Dent thanked his host.

  Having thrown his support behind the one man good enough to stop crime in Gotham, Bruce went outside to his patio.

  Rachel joined him.

  “Rachel.” He struggled to tell her how he felt. “The day you once told me about, the day when Gotham no longer needs Batman—it’s coming.”

  Gotham needed Batman, and he could not give up the role until someone else came along to be Gotham’s hero.

  “It’s happening now,” Bruce said excitedly. “Harvey can be the hero. He locked up half the city’s criminals, and he did it without wearing a mask. Gotham needs a champion with a face.”

  “You can’t ask me to wait . . . ,” Rachel began. There was a noise at the door.

  Unaware of what he was interrupting, Dent came out onto the balcony. “You sure can throw a party, Wayne. Thanks again.” He shook Bruce’s hand vigorously. “Mind if I borrow Rachel?”

  Rachel glanced over her shoulder at Bruce as Dent led her back into the bustle of the party.

  Bruce wished things were different. He’d happily give up being Batman to be with Rachel. That was his plan. He hoped he wasn’t too late.

  Dent took Rachel into the kitchen. He said, “Facing death makes you think about what you couldn’t stand losing. And who you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

  “The rest of your life, huh?” Rachel’s heart sped up. She hadn’t expected to have this conversation with Harvey. Not tonight. “Marriage is a pretty big commitment.”

  Harvey smiled and took both her hands in his. “What’s your answer?”

  As she considered his proposal, Bruce entered the kitchen. Sneaking up behind Harvey, Bruce grabbed him in a sleeper hold, and he slumped to the floor.

  “What are you doing?” Rachel demanded.

  “They’ve come for him.” Bruce quickly filled her in. “I just got a call. The Joker’s men got to Judge Surillo and Commissioner Loeb.”

  At that moment, guests at the party began to scream.

  Bruce stuffed Harvey into a closet. “Stay hidden,” he warned Rachel as he slipped out the kitchen door.

  The Joker moved through the party, his fake smile frightening the guests.

  “Where is Harvey Dent?”

  No one answered. Joker threatened a man and his wife with a knife.

  Rachel could not stay hidden. “Stop!” She stepped boldly into the room.

  “Hello, beautiful,” Joker greeted Rachel, grabbing her arm and pulling her close. “You must be Harvey’s squeeze. You look nervous. It’s the scars, isn’t it?”

  Rachel didn’t respond. She kept her gaze steady and refused to show him fear.

  When he stepped slightly back, she slugged him hard in the stomach.

  The Joker touched the sore spot and mocked, “A little fight in you. I like that.”

  “Then you’re going to love me!” Batman said as he pounced, catching the Joker with a powerful blow. The villain fell backward, away from Rachel.

  As Batman approached, the Joker kicked at him with a knife that was hidden in his shoe. The blade caught Batman between the armored plates of his Batsuit, right in the vulnerable spot Fox had warned him about.

  Ignoring his own pain, Batman leaped toward the Joker, grabbing him around the waist and hurling him across the room.

  The Joker got to his feet and grabbed Rachel once again. “Just take off your mask and show us who you are.”

  Rachel shook her head at Batman.

  “Fine, then,” the Joker said, raising the stakes. He pulled out a shotgun and blasted a pane of glass in the window next to him. Dragging Rachel over to the hole, Joker dangled her out the window.

  “Let her go.” Batman’s voice was steady and serious.

  “Very poor choice of words.” The Joker laughed as he opened his fist.

  Rachel was falling. No one could survive the long drop from Wayne’s penthouse to the pavement below.

  Swoosh!

  Batman leaped out the window after her, wrapping his arms around her. By activating the fabric of his cape, he managed to slow their descent, but not enough to prevent a crash.

  Slam!

  Batman enveloped Rachel in his cape as together they smashed into the hood of a taxi.

  The driver yelped as they rolled off the hood, down the windshield, and onto the pavement. They were scraped and bruised, but alive.

  The Joker escaped the party, and Dent was safe.

  For now.

  EIGHTEEN

  Bruce was deeply troubled by what had happened to Judge Surillo and Commissioner Loeb. He didn’t want more people to get hurt because of him.

  Bruce looked at his Batsuit, considering the problem. “Criminals aren’t complicated, Alfred. We just have to figure out what this Joker person is after.”

  Alfred shook his head. “Respectfully, Master Wayne, perhaps this is a man you don’t fully understand.” Alfred told Bruce that not every criminal has a reason for his violence. “Some men aren’t looking for anything logical, like money. They can’t be bought, bullied, reasoned with, or negotiated with.” Alfred’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Some men just want to watch the world burn.”

  Hours before the funeral for Commissioner Loeb was about to begin, Gordon saw a campaign poster for Mayor Garcia defaced with a crazy clown grin and “ha, ha, ha.” Lieutenant Gordon realized the Joker was adding to his list of victims.

  Bruce Wayne went to the funeral, hoping he could protect both men. He scanned the buildings, noting police snipers on every rooftop. SWAT team members surrounded the stage. After the mayor spoke, an honor guard was going to fire bullets into the air to salute the late commissioner.

  Bruce looked at each police officer and each SWAT team member. He was checking out every person in the guard one by one—when he found the Joker. The permanent smile on his face gave him away.

  The service began, and Bruce struggled to get through the crowd. He didn’t make it before the speeches ended. The honor guard raised their weapons, and when it was time, the Joker fired not at the sky, but directly at the mayor. Gordon dived, saving the mayor by taking the bullet himself.

  The crowd screamed. People ran in every direction. From where he’d
been sitting on the stage, Harvey Dent had seen a SWAT team member shoot one of the Joker’s men in the leg. Dent knew the man was now in the back of an ambulance. Dent wanted to interview him before they went to the hospital.

  Distracting the ambulance driver, Dent leaped into the front seat and drove the Joker’s thug to an abandoned building.

  It took only a few minutes of questioning for Dent to get his answer. The Joker’s next target was Rachel.

  When Rachel answered Harvey’s desperate call, she was at the Major Crimes Unit. Cops and eyewitnesses were crammed in every available chair and interview space. “Harvey Dent, where are you?” Rachel asked.

  Dent didn’t answer the question. “Where are you?”

  She was annoyed. “I’m where you should be, at Major Crimes, trying to sort through all the—”

  He cut her off. “Rachel, listen to me, you’re not safe there.”

  She didn’t understand. “This is Gordon’s unit, Harvey.”

  “Gordon’s gone, Rachel,” Dent said. “I just heard that the Joker’s named you next.” He continued, “Rachel, I can’t let anything happen to you. I love you too much. Is there anyone in the city we can trust?”

  “Bruce. We can trust Bruce Wayne.” Her voice was strong and certain.

  “OK. Don’t tell anyone where you’re going. I’ll find you at his penthouse.”

  After hanging up, Dent went back to questioning the injured gunman. He wanted to know the Joker’s true identity.

  Batman appeared, interrupting the interrogation.

  Dent told Batman, “The Joker got Gordon and Loeb, and now he’s going to get Rachel!”

  Batman calmly replied, “You’re the symbol of hope that I could never be. Your stand against organized crime is the first legitimate ray of light in Gotham for decades. If anyone saw this”—he indicated the thug bound to the chair, cowering in fear—“everything would be undone; all the criminals you got off the streets would be released. And Jim Gordon would have died for nothing.”