All the Sinners Chapter Three.
All the Sinners
Disclaimer: All characters featured are the intellectual property of D.C. Comics and Time Warner. No infringement is intended with their usage.
Author’s Note: Although this has some basis within the Batman Begins/The Dark Knight canon, it is an AU. What if Bruce had never gone into the restaurant to talk to Falcone and thusly never been set on the path to become Batman?
Summary: Bruce Wayne is a successful private investigator in Gotham City, using his limitless resources to help the police force. Unbeknownst to Bruce, his latest case is in fact a twisted game set out by an individual who becomes very close to him.
Rating: R for violence and sexual situations.
Pairing: Eventual Bruce/Joker.
Chapter Three
A loud slapping noise jerked Bruce out of his nap. Startled, he sat up in his chair, rubbed his eyes and saw Julie smiling back at him. She had dropped a particularly large book down onto the desk to wake him up.
Off of Bruce’s reproachful look, she said pointedly, “It’s past six.”
“Well, it is my office,” Bruce replied groggily, stifling a yawn. Then he frowned and looked back up at her. “You finish at five. Why are you still here?”
Julie grinned teasingly. “Couldn’t well leave you on your own, could I?”
“No, you couldn’t.” Bruce said, amused. “Thanks, Julie.”
He started gathering his things, telling Julie she could go and that he’d lock everything up himself.
It had been two weeks since Johnny Frost’s murder and he had absolutely nothing. No leads at all to show for the days and nights spent pouring over everything Gordon had given him on the case. No matter how much he tried to make sense of it, tried to pull both these killings together into some kind of coherent narrative (were they even done by the same killer or was this the result of some kind of sick team-up?), nothing added up.
The only thing that had become clear the last few weeks was that Carmine Falcone had likely not been involved in Monroe’s murder after all. He had, apparently, decided to come out and deny it through various people who had dutifully passed the information along to the police. In the past, mob policy had been to never comment on such things. Both Gordon and Bruce thought it suspicious he’d waited so long to do so, but Gordon had also felt that something wasn’t right about Monroe’s death from the very beginning. Coupled with the out-of-character denial, both concluded Falcone was probably telling the truth for once.
While it was nice to be able to cross one person off of their suspect list, it left them back at square one and it didn’t seem they would be leaving there again anytime soon. Bruce rubbed at the throbbing pain blossoming inside his skull. Another headache. Excellent.
Just as he was locking the front entrance door, his cell phone rang. Bruce eagerly dug it out of his pocket, deflating a little when he saw from the caller ID that it was not Gordon.
“Hi, Rachel,” Bruce said, hoping he sounded appropriately happy to hear from her. Not that he wasn’t, of course, but as much as Bruce enjoyed her company, he also desperately wanted good news regarding the case and work tended to supersede everything else in his mind at the best of times.
“Hey, Bruce. I called at the penthouse but Alfred said you hadn’t got back from work yet.” There was a pause. “How are you?”
“Me? I’m…I’ve been better.” Bruce told Rachel about his frustrations knowing she would understand having gone through similar frustrations in her job as a city prosecutor. When he’d finished Rachel was silent for a while, mentally digesting everything he’d told her.
Eventually she asked, somewhat tentatively, “Bruce, you don’t think it’s possible that this is the work of two people, maybe even a group?”
Bruce started, surprised. “Given the difference in how the two victims were killed I had thought…why’d you ask?”
“Well, Harvey - you remember him don’t you? - He said he heard from a source that Carmine Falcone and Salvatore Maroni had some sort of meeting a few weeks back, not long after Johnny Frost’s murder. According to what Harvey was told, it didn’t appear to be a friendly conversation.”
This was news to Bruce and he was curious as to whom, exactly, Harvey Dent’s source was given that neither he nor Gordon had heard anything from theirs. In any case he knew where Rachel was going with this and he had already discounted the idea. “You mean, you think someone could be trying to start a mob war? I thought of that too but…why pick Monroe? His gang was really nothing more than a bunch of teenagers causing trouble.” Bruce raised his free hand to his forehead. His headache showed no signs of retreating.
“Even if it was just to set up Falcone,” he continued, “there are better targets.”
“Good point.” She sounded disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm for her theory. “Sorry Bruce, I know you’ve been working like crazy on this case and my attempts at helping are obviously not all that helpful.”
“No, no, it definitely does help to talk about it,” Bruce reassured her. His words seemed to have the desired effect.
“So,” she said, suddenly playful and Bruce felt himself straighten at her change in tone. “Are we still on for tonight?”
Oh no, what have I forgotten now?
His silence was damning.
“You’ve forgotten,” Rachel said flatly.
“No! I…okay, yeah, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
She let out a small laugh. Bruce wasn’t sure what, precisely, Rachel found so amusing but he’d take being laughed at over being yelled at. Besides, she had the cutest laugh.
“You said you’d come out for drinks tonight,” Rachel supplied. “Look, Bruce, if you want to cancel, it’s fine.”
Bruce thought it over. He knew instinctively what Alfred would say: he deserved a night off from thinking about work to just relax and enjoy himself. Alfred would be right, as he always was, but still…
“Don’t be silly Rachel,” Bruce was genuinely amazed to hear himself say. “Of course I’ll be there. Wherever there is exactly.”
“Oh, um, great. ‘There’ would be the Iceberg Lounge at eight.”
She sounded as surprised as Bruce felt.
-
Alfred, to his credit, had tried not to look amazed when Bruce had told him he was going out. For fun.
Have I really become that much of a workaholic? He thought as he stepped into the shower, relaxing under the warm water. His headache had finally given up and fled thanks to Mr. Aspirin. Bruce felt tired but fought the fatigue. He’d promised to go out and so go he would.
An hour later he was sat at the bar in the swanky Iceberg Lounge - not the kind of place Rachel was usually inclined to socialise at - and impatience was starting to set in. It wasn’t quite eight yet but Rachel was normally the type who considered being ten minutes early a crime worth apologising for.
Maybe Harvey’s the reason for the hold up.
Whilst Bruce had been getting dressed, Rachel had called him again to ask if it was okay if her “colleague” Harvey Dent came out with them. A nasty, spiteful part of him had wanted very badly to say that it wasn’t, but he quelled it and said it was fine.
Although Rachel had yet to say anything to him, it was painfully obvious there was something going on between her and Harvey. Bruce had long ago accepted that she did not reciprocate the feelings he had for her but the idea of Rachel and Harvey as an item bothered him nonetheless. Probably because he didn’t like Harvey Dent much.
Bruce looked over at the entrance for what must have been the fifteenth time. Still no sign of either of them.
Bruce sighed deeply and finished his drink in one big gulp. This was a bad idea.
The man sat on his right chuckled, clearly enjoying Bruce’s irritation. Bruce ignored him.
“So,” the man said conversationally. He had a somewhat nasally voice that was oddly familiar but Bruce couldn’t place it. “Somebody stand you up, stud?”
Turning to see who the hell this asshole was and to snap a retort while he was at it, Bruce stopped when he got a good look at him. He couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s sheer audacity.
“Oh no,” he said with mock disappointment. “What are you doing here?”
-
Rachel adjusted her clothes nervously. Bruce was her oldest friend: she shouldn’t feel so apprehensive and self-conscious. After all, it would hardly be the end of the world if, for some reason, he didn’t approve of her relationship with Harvey.
“You look fantastic,” Harvey said reassuringly. “Everything will be fine.”
Rachel nodded, smiling up at him. He really was a good guy but Rachel had got the distinct impression in the few conversations she’d had about Harvey with Bruce that Bruce didn’t care for him much. Which was odd, since she was fairly certain they had never actually met before.
They entered the cocktail lounge. Rachel wasn’t a big fan of the place but Harvey liked it a lot, as it turned out. There had been some unpleasant rumours about the Iceberg Lounge being mob-owned but those had come to nothing. Besides, Harvey would never be caught dead in a mob-owned anything and Rachel trusted his judgment completely.
She spotted Bruce at the bar. He seemed to be having a very animated conversation with the man seated next to him. At least he hadn’t been wanting for company.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” she said, taking Harvey’s hand.
“Um, well, actually,” Harvey said, looking very uncomfortable. “We’ve met.”
Rachel frowned. “Bruce never mentioned that.”
“It wasn’t under the friendliest of circumstances,” Harvey admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I don’t exactly like to share information with private investigators.”
Rachel winced inwardly. This was going to be even more awkward than she had imagined.
“Harvey, I’m sure Bruce won’t hold that against you,” she lied. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.”
With that, she took a breath and they headed towards the bar together.
-
The Joker could barely contain his glee, which was quite a task as he wasn’t one for modesty. And this, guys and germs, is why scheming is a waste of time. All he’d had to do was wait and his obsession had pretty much fallen right into his lap!
“Brucey,” he breathed. “It’s, ah, it’s more than a pleasure.”
Bruce gave him a look that was equal parts amused and intrigued. It was the latter that had initially aroused the Joker’s curiosity (amongst other things hehe) when they first met. Everyone outside of the insane didn’t find the Joker interesting in any way, more like disturbing. That was just fine by him because he didn’t care for any of them either, especially in Gotham, home of the fakest fakes that ever walked the earth.
Even Brucey was somewhat guilty of presenting a falsehood but the Joker forgave him this faux pas as he, too, had presented a mask of sanity to the outside world for a long time. Until the day not so long ago when that fake face was ripped right off.
“So, how’d you get in here?” Bruce asked, stealing a quick glance toward the door. So, he was expecting company. Annoying, since it meant their meeting would be sadly short, but the important thing was making his acquaintance (or should that be re-acquaintance?) and that had worked out better than the Joker could’ve hoped.
He tsked at Bruce’s question. “Aren’t you even going to ask how I am?”
“Okay Miss Manners,” Bruce replied, grinning. “How are you?”
The Joker raised an eyebrow. “Miss Manners?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
The Joker leaned towards him, blocking out the rest of the world as though he wanted to share a secret. “I’m good now,” he said, smacking his lips and holding Bruce’s gaze in a way he hoped made the billionaire terribly uncomfortable.
Bruce drew away (bingo!) but his face showed no trace of disgust at being so blatantly hit on by another man. Hadn’t the first time either. He still wasn’t exactly comfortable with the Joker’s advances, but the Joker planned to work on that and before long he’d want it more than he’d ever lusted after that stuck-up assistant district attorney woman who…
…Just walked in the door. The Joker scowled, annoyed at being interrupted when things were starting to get really interesting. Bruce saw her and the guy she’d entered with and judging by the slight frown, he wasn’t happy to see them either. Although not because of the interruption to their conversation, the Joker surmised. Yes, this was going to be very interesting.
But for now, the game would have to go into a little time out.
“Well,” the Joker said, sitting back and dropping some money on the bar. “I think I, ah, better be moseying.”
“Why? Did security spot you?” Bruce joked, no doubt recalling how he’d originally caught the Joker trying to sneak into his dull little charity ball.
The Joker huffed. “You act like I couldn’t get into any place fancy. But for your information, I paid security not to notice me.” He winked and then headed for the exit, stealing a quick glance over his shoulder to see what Brucey made of his departure.
He was disappointed to note that the billionaire was focused on the other object of his affection. The one with a date, which was pretty damned pathetic in his opinion. She’s just not that into you, Bruce.
The Joker grimaced. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.
But that, he reminded himself, doesn’t mean it won’t be fun.
Disclaimer: All characters featured are the intellectual property of D.C. Comics and Time Warner. No infringement is intended with their usage.
Author’s Note: Although this has some basis within the Batman Begins/The Dark Knight canon, it is an AU. What if Bruce had never gone into the restaurant to talk to Falcone and thusly never been set on the path to become Batman?
Summary: Bruce Wayne is a successful private investigator in Gotham City, using his limitless resources to help the police force. Unbeknownst to Bruce, his latest case is in fact a twisted game set out by an individual who becomes very close to him.
Rating: R for violence and sexual situations.
Pairing: Eventual Bruce/Joker.
Chapter Three
A loud slapping noise jerked Bruce out of his nap. Startled, he sat up in his chair, rubbed his eyes and saw Julie smiling back at him. She had dropped a particularly large book down onto the desk to wake him up.
Off of Bruce’s reproachful look, she said pointedly, “It’s past six.”
“Well, it is my office,” Bruce replied groggily, stifling a yawn. Then he frowned and looked back up at her. “You finish at five. Why are you still here?”
Julie grinned teasingly. “Couldn’t well leave you on your own, could I?”
“No, you couldn’t.” Bruce said, amused. “Thanks, Julie.”
He started gathering his things, telling Julie she could go and that he’d lock everything up himself.
It had been two weeks since Johnny Frost’s murder and he had absolutely nothing. No leads at all to show for the days and nights spent pouring over everything Gordon had given him on the case. No matter how much he tried to make sense of it, tried to pull both these killings together into some kind of coherent narrative (were they even done by the same killer or was this the result of some kind of sick team-up?), nothing added up.
The only thing that had become clear the last few weeks was that Carmine Falcone had likely not been involved in Monroe’s murder after all. He had, apparently, decided to come out and deny it through various people who had dutifully passed the information along to the police. In the past, mob policy had been to never comment on such things. Both Gordon and Bruce thought it suspicious he’d waited so long to do so, but Gordon had also felt that something wasn’t right about Monroe’s death from the very beginning. Coupled with the out-of-character denial, both concluded Falcone was probably telling the truth for once.
While it was nice to be able to cross one person off of their suspect list, it left them back at square one and it didn’t seem they would be leaving there again anytime soon. Bruce rubbed at the throbbing pain blossoming inside his skull. Another headache. Excellent.
Just as he was locking the front entrance door, his cell phone rang. Bruce eagerly dug it out of his pocket, deflating a little when he saw from the caller ID that it was not Gordon.
“Hi, Rachel,” Bruce said, hoping he sounded appropriately happy to hear from her. Not that he wasn’t, of course, but as much as Bruce enjoyed her company, he also desperately wanted good news regarding the case and work tended to supersede everything else in his mind at the best of times.
“Hey, Bruce. I called at the penthouse but Alfred said you hadn’t got back from work yet.” There was a pause. “How are you?”
“Me? I’m…I’ve been better.” Bruce told Rachel about his frustrations knowing she would understand having gone through similar frustrations in her job as a city prosecutor. When he’d finished Rachel was silent for a while, mentally digesting everything he’d told her.
Eventually she asked, somewhat tentatively, “Bruce, you don’t think it’s possible that this is the work of two people, maybe even a group?”
Bruce started, surprised. “Given the difference in how the two victims were killed I had thought…why’d you ask?”
“Well, Harvey - you remember him don’t you? - He said he heard from a source that Carmine Falcone and Salvatore Maroni had some sort of meeting a few weeks back, not long after Johnny Frost’s murder. According to what Harvey was told, it didn’t appear to be a friendly conversation.”
This was news to Bruce and he was curious as to whom, exactly, Harvey Dent’s source was given that neither he nor Gordon had heard anything from theirs. In any case he knew where Rachel was going with this and he had already discounted the idea. “You mean, you think someone could be trying to start a mob war? I thought of that too but…why pick Monroe? His gang was really nothing more than a bunch of teenagers causing trouble.” Bruce raised his free hand to his forehead. His headache showed no signs of retreating.
“Even if it was just to set up Falcone,” he continued, “there are better targets.”
“Good point.” She sounded disappointed at his lack of enthusiasm for her theory. “Sorry Bruce, I know you’ve been working like crazy on this case and my attempts at helping are obviously not all that helpful.”
“No, no, it definitely does help to talk about it,” Bruce reassured her. His words seemed to have the desired effect.
“So,” she said, suddenly playful and Bruce felt himself straighten at her change in tone. “Are we still on for tonight?”
Oh no, what have I forgotten now?
His silence was damning.
“You’ve forgotten,” Rachel said flatly.
“No! I…okay, yeah, I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
She let out a small laugh. Bruce wasn’t sure what, precisely, Rachel found so amusing but he’d take being laughed at over being yelled at. Besides, she had the cutest laugh.
“You said you’d come out for drinks tonight,” Rachel supplied. “Look, Bruce, if you want to cancel, it’s fine.”
Bruce thought it over. He knew instinctively what Alfred would say: he deserved a night off from thinking about work to just relax and enjoy himself. Alfred would be right, as he always was, but still…
“Don’t be silly Rachel,” Bruce was genuinely amazed to hear himself say. “Of course I’ll be there. Wherever there is exactly.”
“Oh, um, great. ‘There’ would be the Iceberg Lounge at eight.”
She sounded as surprised as Bruce felt.
-
Alfred, to his credit, had tried not to look amazed when Bruce had told him he was going out. For fun.
Have I really become that much of a workaholic? He thought as he stepped into the shower, relaxing under the warm water. His headache had finally given up and fled thanks to Mr. Aspirin. Bruce felt tired but fought the fatigue. He’d promised to go out and so go he would.
An hour later he was sat at the bar in the swanky Iceberg Lounge - not the kind of place Rachel was usually inclined to socialise at - and impatience was starting to set in. It wasn’t quite eight yet but Rachel was normally the type who considered being ten minutes early a crime worth apologising for.
Maybe Harvey’s the reason for the hold up.
Whilst Bruce had been getting dressed, Rachel had called him again to ask if it was okay if her “colleague” Harvey Dent came out with them. A nasty, spiteful part of him had wanted very badly to say that it wasn’t, but he quelled it and said it was fine.
Although Rachel had yet to say anything to him, it was painfully obvious there was something going on between her and Harvey. Bruce had long ago accepted that she did not reciprocate the feelings he had for her but the idea of Rachel and Harvey as an item bothered him nonetheless. Probably because he didn’t like Harvey Dent much.
Bruce looked over at the entrance for what must have been the fifteenth time. Still no sign of either of them.
Bruce sighed deeply and finished his drink in one big gulp. This was a bad idea.
The man sat on his right chuckled, clearly enjoying Bruce’s irritation. Bruce ignored him.
“So,” the man said conversationally. He had a somewhat nasally voice that was oddly familiar but Bruce couldn’t place it. “Somebody stand you up, stud?”
Turning to see who the hell this asshole was and to snap a retort while he was at it, Bruce stopped when he got a good look at him. He couldn’t help but laugh at the man’s sheer audacity.
“Oh no,” he said with mock disappointment. “What are you doing here?”
-
Rachel adjusted her clothes nervously. Bruce was her oldest friend: she shouldn’t feel so apprehensive and self-conscious. After all, it would hardly be the end of the world if, for some reason, he didn’t approve of her relationship with Harvey.
“You look fantastic,” Harvey said reassuringly. “Everything will be fine.”
Rachel nodded, smiling up at him. He really was a good guy but Rachel had got the distinct impression in the few conversations she’d had about Harvey with Bruce that Bruce didn’t care for him much. Which was odd, since she was fairly certain they had never actually met before.
They entered the cocktail lounge. Rachel wasn’t a big fan of the place but Harvey liked it a lot, as it turned out. There had been some unpleasant rumours about the Iceberg Lounge being mob-owned but those had come to nothing. Besides, Harvey would never be caught dead in a mob-owned anything and Rachel trusted his judgment completely.
She spotted Bruce at the bar. He seemed to be having a very animated conversation with the man seated next to him. At least he hadn’t been wanting for company.
“Come on, I’ll introduce you,” she said, taking Harvey’s hand.
“Um, well, actually,” Harvey said, looking very uncomfortable. “We’ve met.”
Rachel frowned. “Bruce never mentioned that.”
“It wasn’t under the friendliest of circumstances,” Harvey admitted somewhat sheepishly. “I don’t exactly like to share information with private investigators.”
Rachel winced inwardly. This was going to be even more awkward than she had imagined.
“Harvey, I’m sure Bruce won’t hold that against you,” she lied. “C’mon, let’s get this over with.”
With that, she took a breath and they headed towards the bar together.
-
The Joker could barely contain his glee, which was quite a task as he wasn’t one for modesty. And this, guys and germs, is why scheming is a waste of time. All he’d had to do was wait and his obsession had pretty much fallen right into his lap!
“Brucey,” he breathed. “It’s, ah, it’s more than a pleasure.”
Bruce gave him a look that was equal parts amused and intrigued. It was the latter that had initially aroused the Joker’s curiosity (amongst other things hehe) when they first met. Everyone outside of the insane didn’t find the Joker interesting in any way, more like disturbing. That was just fine by him because he didn’t care for any of them either, especially in Gotham, home of the fakest fakes that ever walked the earth.
Even Brucey was somewhat guilty of presenting a falsehood but the Joker forgave him this faux pas as he, too, had presented a mask of sanity to the outside world for a long time. Until the day not so long ago when that fake face was ripped right off.
“So, how’d you get in here?” Bruce asked, stealing a quick glance toward the door. So, he was expecting company. Annoying, since it meant their meeting would be sadly short, but the important thing was making his acquaintance (or should that be re-acquaintance?) and that had worked out better than the Joker could’ve hoped.
He tsked at Bruce’s question. “Aren’t you even going to ask how I am?”
“Okay Miss Manners,” Bruce replied, grinning. “How are you?”
The Joker raised an eyebrow. “Miss Manners?”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
The Joker leaned towards him, blocking out the rest of the world as though he wanted to share a secret. “I’m good now,” he said, smacking his lips and holding Bruce’s gaze in a way he hoped made the billionaire terribly uncomfortable.
Bruce drew away (bingo!) but his face showed no trace of disgust at being so blatantly hit on by another man. Hadn’t the first time either. He still wasn’t exactly comfortable with the Joker’s advances, but the Joker planned to work on that and before long he’d want it more than he’d ever lusted after that stuck-up assistant district attorney woman who…
…Just walked in the door. The Joker scowled, annoyed at being interrupted when things were starting to get really interesting. Bruce saw her and the guy she’d entered with and judging by the slight frown, he wasn’t happy to see them either. Although not because of the interruption to their conversation, the Joker surmised. Yes, this was going to be very interesting.
But for now, the game would have to go into a little time out.
“Well,” the Joker said, sitting back and dropping some money on the bar. “I think I, ah, better be moseying.”
“Why? Did security spot you?” Bruce joked, no doubt recalling how he’d originally caught the Joker trying to sneak into his dull little charity ball.
The Joker huffed. “You act like I couldn’t get into any place fancy. But for your information, I paid security not to notice me.” He winked and then headed for the exit, stealing a quick glance over his shoulder to see what Brucey made of his departure.
He was disappointed to note that the billionaire was focused on the other object of his affection. The one with a date, which was pretty damned pathetic in his opinion. She’s just not that into you, Bruce.
The Joker grimaced. Maybe this wasn’t going to be as easy as he thought.
But that, he reminded himself, doesn’t mean it won’t be fun.