All the Sinners Chapter Five
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 Five
Bruce arrived home some time after two in the morning. It had not been as bad an evening as he had feared. In fact, much to his surprise, Bruce found his feelings towards Harvey Dent undergoing something of a thaw. Dent shared a lot of Bruce’s opinions regarding effective ways of dealing with crime and possessed an inflexible attitude that was rare among Gotham’s elected public officials.
But he’s still dating the woman I adore.
“What am I, 12?” Bruce muttered to himself with a shake of his head. Rachel just didn’t see him that way and no amount of pining and sulking was going to change that. There were other women out there with the same qualities he admired so much in her, and while none of them could ever be Rachel, that didn’t mean he couldn’t love someone else just as much.
Undressing, Bruce flopped onto his expansive, lush bed and once again silently bemoaned the fact he was doing so alone. It wasn’t that he never got offers and he’d even accepted a few of the more tempting ones, but none of his relationships had ever come close to being what one would consider serious.
His thoughts then turned to the Joker. What was it about him that intrigued Bruce so much? He could never pin-point a singular reason: his bizarre style and way of talking, his utter indifference to the rules of polite society, the fact he was undeniably attractive. Perhaps what ultimately drew Bruce was the same thing that drew women to the so-called bad boys - the element of danger.
It was obvious that the Joker was not someone interested in a relationship and the more Bruce thought about it, the more he thought that perhaps that was a good thing. Clearly he still had a lot of feelings regarding Rachel to work through, why not have some fun with someone he was attracted to while he did so? Assuming that his idea of fun and the Joker’s idea of fun were compatible, which was certainly not guaranteed.
And that’s enough thinking for one night.
He switched off the light and plunged the room into darkness.
-
Leaning back in his chair, Bruce picked up the phone for the third time that morning, not without some reluctance. Luck had not been on his side recently.
But third time’s the charm, right?
In a bid to get a break in the increasingly stagnating Monroe/Frost murders, the Gotham police had set up a tip line, something that really should’ve been done much earlier in Bruce’s opinion. Most of what had been offered was pure garbage, but Gordon had shared some of the more promising leads with him, something he was very sure the Commissioner was not supposed to have done. Gordon didn’t trust his own men and women at the moment and for good reason: Falcone interference.
People who had been previously willing to talk were suddenly clamming up, files had a habit of ‘disappearing,’ the usual. At first he and Gordon had wondered if they had got it all very wrong and Falcone had indeed ordered the murders as they had originally suspected. But then word filtered through regarding Falcone’s desire to deal with the “problem” himself.
In other words, he knew who the killer was.
There was no hope of getting the name from Falcone himself, preferring as he did the mobs own brand of so-called ‘justice,’ but if he knew the identity of the killer, odds were good other men in his organisation (if you could call it that) would know it too.
If we could just get one of them to talk.
At long last, the person he’d been trying to reach all morning picked up. Bruce straightened up, cleared his throat and hoped against hope this tip would pay off.
-
Mitch knew he had to get the hell out of Gotham and the sooner the better. He’d felt this way for quite some time now as it seemed things in the city were growing increasingly crazy and unsettling, but until now Mitch had not acted on his increasing uneasiness due to monetary and sentimental reasons.
None of it mattered anymore. He’d have to find the money, and as for sentimentality...this wasn’t the Gotham he recognised, the city he had lived in since he was a small boy. Sure Gotham had always had its share of problems, but Mitch had never come across anybody like whoever the hell it was that had attacked his former partner in front of his former employer, one of the most powerful mobsters in the city!
Then...then Falcone had actually fired him over it, as if the entire incident had somehow been his fault!
Now that he had made plans to leave, Mitch saw no reason to remain loyal Carmine Falcone. Yes, there was time for a little payback before he went. Not just on Falcone, but also on that freak that had broken Mark’s wrist.
Let’s see how he likes having his mug splashed all over a bunch of wanted posters!
-
Attacking one of Falcone’s human shields in public had been a mistake and the Joker was furious with himself for it. He was an incredibly smart man, but damn it all if he wasn’t prone to doing some dumb things sometimes.
“You’re better than this!” He scolded himself loudly, the words echoing in the large, dusty room.
The Joker yanked out one of the drawers, bottom badly warped, from a mouldy old wooden desk and upturned it, spilling the contents onto the floor. It was a suitably bizarre little collection: a few pencils, some with bloodstains on them, a cat ornament missing an ear, a potato peeler and...aha! He scooped up his favourite knife and put into the pocket of his purple overcoat.
Time for some damage control.
-
Gordon shifted through the pile of messages that had accumulated on his desk while he had been out. One was from Barbara to remind him that parent-teacher night at James’s school was coming up. Gordon smiled as he read it. His son’s school reports were always glowing and he knew in the way a parent does that his son was going to grow up to be a fine young man, a son to be proud of.
A son he didn’t spend nearly enough time with.
Putting it to one side, Gordon carried on reading through the rest. When he came to the one left by Bruce Wayne he paused, not entirely sure he understood. Upon a second reading he thought he got the gist of the message and he didn’t like the sound of it.
-
The light was fading fast as Bruce made his way down town to the GCPD Headquarters. It was just after the evening rush hour; a time Bruce always found to be eerily silent and today was no exception. He frowned as he neared the building, thinking back to his earlier, rather testy phone conversation with Commissioner Gordon. He understood and accepted Gordon’s concerns regarding the claims Mitchell Ricci, Falcone’s former bodyguard, had made and whether it may well be a deliberate attempt to lead them down a false track while Falcone dealt with the real killer. However the more Bruce thought about it, the more he was convinced Ricci was telling the truth.
He parked his car in the lot, mentally prepping himself for the next difficult conversation that was sure to follow. Bruce did not like being on bad terms with the police, they provided him with a lot of his business and he was dependent on their co-operation with his investigations. He also Bruce considered Jim Gordon to be a friend, which made it all the harder to have to disagree so forcefully with him.
Even with all that in mind, Bruce was simply not willing to settle for any compromise that involved letting this lead go and he had a bad feeling that was what Gordon was aiming for. If this was indeed the case, then Bruce was quite prepared to go behind Gordon’s back and to deal with whatever unpleasant consequences resulted from it. If this lead was as good as Bruce’s instincts told him it was, it would be well worth the flack he would get.
-
Gordon sat at his desk, file in hand as he waited with increasing dread for Bruce to arrive. He tried to tell himself that it had just been a mistake and that yes, Bruce would be angry, but surely he would accept that Gordon had been trying to look out for him by refusing to have the witness interviewed and had not been interfering for the sake of it? But even he didn’t believe any of it. He’d done all this because he thought he knew better and he was wrong and that was all there was to it.
A soft, familiar knock at the door announced Bruce’s arrival. With an audible sigh, Gordon rose from his chair, crossed to the door, hesitating for a second before opening it.
“Bruce, come in.”
“Thanks,” Bruce said, a little stiffly. He sat down in the chair opposite Gordon’s desk, while Gordon himself remained standing beside it, which only added to the already awkward atmosphere in the room. He reached down and picked up the file from his desk and handed it to Bruce without a word.
Bruce looked up at him, clearly puzzled. “What’s this?”
“Read it, you’ll see.”
Bruce scanned the contents with a frown, his face tightening with anger when he realised it was a report on the homicide of Mitchell Ricci. Gordon looked away, not wanting to see the explosion of rage that was sure to follow.
It didn’t happen. Bruce tossed the file back onto his desk so forcefully it slid across and dropped onto the floor on the other side. Other than that display he was silent.
Clearing his throat, Gordon said, “I know you’re angry - “
“- I’m not angry,” Bruce cut in, not altogether convincingly. He wouldn’t look at Gordon when he said it, keeping his gaze firmly fixed to the right as though he found the wall suddenly fascinating. “Anger wouldn’t accomplish anything,” he continued, “You made a judgement call. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
It was obviously with a great effort that Bruce managed to say all of this in an even tone. On the other hand, the way in which he controlled his reactions was somewhat disconcerting to watch. Gordon was no shrink, but he was certain repressing rage in this way wasn’t always considered to be the healthy thing to do.
“I’m sorry Bruce.” Terrible, but it was all he could think to say.
Bruce nodded. Gordon wasn’t sure he’d even heard him.
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 Five
Bruce arrived home some time after two in the morning. It had not been as bad an evening as he had feared. In fact, much to his surprise, Bruce found his feelings towards Harvey Dent undergoing something of a thaw. Dent shared a lot of Bruce’s opinions regarding effective ways of dealing with crime and possessed an inflexible attitude that was rare among Gotham’s elected public officials.
But he’s still dating the woman I adore.
“What am I, 12?” Bruce muttered to himself with a shake of his head. Rachel just didn’t see him that way and no amount of pining and sulking was going to change that. There were other women out there with the same qualities he admired so much in her, and while none of them could ever be Rachel, that didn’t mean he couldn’t love someone else just as much.
Undressing, Bruce flopped onto his expansive, lush bed and once again silently bemoaned the fact he was doing so alone. It wasn’t that he never got offers and he’d even accepted a few of the more tempting ones, but none of his relationships had ever come close to being what one would consider serious.
His thoughts then turned to the Joker. What was it about him that intrigued Bruce so much? He could never pin-point a singular reason: his bizarre style and way of talking, his utter indifference to the rules of polite society, the fact he was undeniably attractive. Perhaps what ultimately drew Bruce was the same thing that drew women to the so-called bad boys - the element of danger.
It was obvious that the Joker was not someone interested in a relationship and the more Bruce thought about it, the more he thought that perhaps that was a good thing. Clearly he still had a lot of feelings regarding Rachel to work through, why not have some fun with someone he was attracted to while he did so? Assuming that his idea of fun and the Joker’s idea of fun were compatible, which was certainly not guaranteed.
And that’s enough thinking for one night.
He switched off the light and plunged the room into darkness.
-
Leaning back in his chair, Bruce picked up the phone for the third time that morning, not without some reluctance. Luck had not been on his side recently.
But third time’s the charm, right?
In a bid to get a break in the increasingly stagnating Monroe/Frost murders, the Gotham police had set up a tip line, something that really should’ve been done much earlier in Bruce’s opinion. Most of what had been offered was pure garbage, but Gordon had shared some of the more promising leads with him, something he was very sure the Commissioner was not supposed to have done. Gordon didn’t trust his own men and women at the moment and for good reason: Falcone interference.
People who had been previously willing to talk were suddenly clamming up, files had a habit of ‘disappearing,’ the usual. At first he and Gordon had wondered if they had got it all very wrong and Falcone had indeed ordered the murders as they had originally suspected. But then word filtered through regarding Falcone’s desire to deal with the “problem” himself.
In other words, he knew who the killer was.
There was no hope of getting the name from Falcone himself, preferring as he did the mobs own brand of so-called ‘justice,’ but if he knew the identity of the killer, odds were good other men in his organisation (if you could call it that) would know it too.
If we could just get one of them to talk.
At long last, the person he’d been trying to reach all morning picked up. Bruce straightened up, cleared his throat and hoped against hope this tip would pay off.
-
Mitch knew he had to get the hell out of Gotham and the sooner the better. He’d felt this way for quite some time now as it seemed things in the city were growing increasingly crazy and unsettling, but until now Mitch had not acted on his increasing uneasiness due to monetary and sentimental reasons.
None of it mattered anymore. He’d have to find the money, and as for sentimentality...this wasn’t the Gotham he recognised, the city he had lived in since he was a small boy. Sure Gotham had always had its share of problems, but Mitch had never come across anybody like whoever the hell it was that had attacked his former partner in front of his former employer, one of the most powerful mobsters in the city!
Then...then Falcone had actually fired him over it, as if the entire incident had somehow been his fault!
Now that he had made plans to leave, Mitch saw no reason to remain loyal Carmine Falcone. Yes, there was time for a little payback before he went. Not just on Falcone, but also on that freak that had broken Mark’s wrist.
Let’s see how he likes having his mug splashed all over a bunch of wanted posters!
-
Attacking one of Falcone’s human shields in public had been a mistake and the Joker was furious with himself for it. He was an incredibly smart man, but damn it all if he wasn’t prone to doing some dumb things sometimes.
“You’re better than this!” He scolded himself loudly, the words echoing in the large, dusty room.
The Joker yanked out one of the drawers, bottom badly warped, from a mouldy old wooden desk and upturned it, spilling the contents onto the floor. It was a suitably bizarre little collection: a few pencils, some with bloodstains on them, a cat ornament missing an ear, a potato peeler and...aha! He scooped up his favourite knife and put into the pocket of his purple overcoat.
Time for some damage control.
-
Gordon shifted through the pile of messages that had accumulated on his desk while he had been out. One was from Barbara to remind him that parent-teacher night at James’s school was coming up. Gordon smiled as he read it. His son’s school reports were always glowing and he knew in the way a parent does that his son was going to grow up to be a fine young man, a son to be proud of.
A son he didn’t spend nearly enough time with.
Putting it to one side, Gordon carried on reading through the rest. When he came to the one left by Bruce Wayne he paused, not entirely sure he understood. Upon a second reading he thought he got the gist of the message and he didn’t like the sound of it.
-
The light was fading fast as Bruce made his way down town to the GCPD Headquarters. It was just after the evening rush hour; a time Bruce always found to be eerily silent and today was no exception. He frowned as he neared the building, thinking back to his earlier, rather testy phone conversation with Commissioner Gordon. He understood and accepted Gordon’s concerns regarding the claims Mitchell Ricci, Falcone’s former bodyguard, had made and whether it may well be a deliberate attempt to lead them down a false track while Falcone dealt with the real killer. However the more Bruce thought about it, the more he was convinced Ricci was telling the truth.
He parked his car in the lot, mentally prepping himself for the next difficult conversation that was sure to follow. Bruce did not like being on bad terms with the police, they provided him with a lot of his business and he was dependent on their co-operation with his investigations. He also Bruce considered Jim Gordon to be a friend, which made it all the harder to have to disagree so forcefully with him.
Even with all that in mind, Bruce was simply not willing to settle for any compromise that involved letting this lead go and he had a bad feeling that was what Gordon was aiming for. If this was indeed the case, then Bruce was quite prepared to go behind Gordon’s back and to deal with whatever unpleasant consequences resulted from it. If this lead was as good as Bruce’s instincts told him it was, it would be well worth the flack he would get.
-
Gordon sat at his desk, file in hand as he waited with increasing dread for Bruce to arrive. He tried to tell himself that it had just been a mistake and that yes, Bruce would be angry, but surely he would accept that Gordon had been trying to look out for him by refusing to have the witness interviewed and had not been interfering for the sake of it? But even he didn’t believe any of it. He’d done all this because he thought he knew better and he was wrong and that was all there was to it.
A soft, familiar knock at the door announced Bruce’s arrival. With an audible sigh, Gordon rose from his chair, crossed to the door, hesitating for a second before opening it.
“Bruce, come in.”
“Thanks,” Bruce said, a little stiffly. He sat down in the chair opposite Gordon’s desk, while Gordon himself remained standing beside it, which only added to the already awkward atmosphere in the room. He reached down and picked up the file from his desk and handed it to Bruce without a word.
Bruce looked up at him, clearly puzzled. “What’s this?”
“Read it, you’ll see.”
Bruce scanned the contents with a frown, his face tightening with anger when he realised it was a report on the homicide of Mitchell Ricci. Gordon looked away, not wanting to see the explosion of rage that was sure to follow.
It didn’t happen. Bruce tossed the file back onto his desk so forcefully it slid across and dropped onto the floor on the other side. Other than that display he was silent.
Clearing his throat, Gordon said, “I know you’re angry - “
“- I’m not angry,” Bruce cut in, not altogether convincingly. He wouldn’t look at Gordon when he said it, keeping his gaze firmly fixed to the right as though he found the wall suddenly fascinating. “Anger wouldn’t accomplish anything,” he continued, “You made a judgement call. You couldn’t have known what would happen.”
It was obviously with a great effort that Bruce managed to say all of this in an even tone. On the other hand, the way in which he controlled his reactions was somewhat disconcerting to watch. Gordon was no shrink, but he was certain repressing rage in this way wasn’t always considered to be the healthy thing to do.
“I’m sorry Bruce.” Terrible, but it was all he could think to say.
Bruce nodded. Gordon wasn’t sure he’d even heard him.