[rl] Harvey and the Joker
It was strange being a part of the same thing he had been fighting so hard to destroy - maybe not a part but just another passing by, not a kink in the system. The Gotham underground was a disgusting place but it had the information he needed.
Like guard shifts at Arkham, routes and secrets and silly little details few would know. Like damning information on crazy Carmine Falcone screaming about scarecrows in a room no one seemed to know. Harvey was a planner, had always been a planner, ever since he had sat down in high school and decided he wanted to be a public servant, and mapped out how it would work. He thought on his feet but even then there was a sequence going though his head: cause, action, effect. The ultimate goal.
He felt filthy from the meetings and veiled threats, feet moving by themselves down the scarcely populated streets, quiet for the late time and what it brought. He stopped when he noticed a building, an abandoned one, fairly close to the police station. Harvey hesitated, brushed his fingers over the coin in his pocket, and walked inside.
It was big, empty, and exactly the same as the last two times he had come. Months ago, when he had first found the community, when the Joker had played games and veiled his comments; life insurance and playing with fire and little quips that went over his head until he had burned half alive. He stared at a distant wall, wondering what would have happened if he had killed the Joker that night, let himself wring the clown's neck until it cracked. Why he hadn't. Why he still didn't. His fingers curled tightly around Liberty. When he lied to himself he said he had no regrets.