One Year Later - Halloween Night
The rain in Gotham never really cleaned the streets; it just made the grime slicker.
"I hate Halloween," Robin muttered, crouching on the edge of the GCPD rooftop. He was thirteen now, taller, broader in the shoulders. His red tunic was scuffed from a year of fighting. "It's the one night of the year where the bad guys blend in. I saw three Jokers and two Penguins just on the way over here."
"Focus," Batman said. He stood near the Bat-Signal, his cape heavy with water. " Gordon and Dent are late."
I stood a few paces behind them, holding a black umbrella. Not for myself—demons do not mind the wet—but to keep the rain off the silver thermos of coffee I had brought.
"Mr. Dent is a politician, Young Master," I noted. "Punctuality is not their strong suit. Though Lieutenant Gordon has no excuse."
The roof access door opened.
Jim Gordon (now Captain Gordon) stepped out, looking haggard. Behind him walked Harvey Dent, the District Attorney. Dent was handsome, charismatic, and radiated the kind of golden-boy energy that usually got people killed in this city.
"Batman," Dent nodded, unfazed by the costume. He looked at the boy. "And... Robin. I still can't believe you bring a kid to these meetings."
"I'm not a kid," Robin quipped. "I'm a vertically challenged ninja. There's a difference."
"Gentlemen," I stepped forward, offering the tray. "Coffee? It is a Colombian blend. High acidity, keeps the senses sharp."
Dent blinked, looking at me. "And the butler. Right. Because why wouldn't there be a butler on the roof of the police station."
"We found a body," Gordon cut in, ignoring the coffee. "Johnny Vitti. Nephew of Carmine Falcone."
"The Roman isn't going to like that," Batman said.
"Found him in his bathtub," Gordon continued. "Shot twice in the head. .22 caliber. A professional hit. No prints. No witnesses."
"Except for this," Dent pulled an evidence bag from his coat.
Inside was a carved Jack-o'-lantern. Small, crude, with a wicked grin.
"The killer left it on the toilet," Dent said. "A message."
"Holiday," Batman whispered. "This isn't a mob hit. This is a serial killer."
"Falcone will tear the city apart looking for the shooter," Dent said, pacing. He pulled a silver dollar from his pocket. He began to flip it. Cling. Cling.
"We have to strike first," Dent said, catching the coin. "We have to hit Falcone's money laundering. If we burn his cash, he loses his power. Then we can take him down legally."
"We can't just burn it, Harvey," Gordon argued. "We need warrants. We need to do this by the book."
" The book isn't working, Jim!" Dent snapped. "Judges are bought! Witnesses disappear! Sometimes you have to bend the rules to save the game!"
I watched Dent closely. My eyes narrowed.
I could see it. Just a faint wisp of smoke around his soul. A crack in the porcelain. He was a good man, a righteous man... but he was tired. And tired men make deals with devils.
"What do you say, Batman?" Dent asked, flipping the coin again. "Are you in? Or are you just going to beat up muggers in alleys while the city burns?"
Batman looked at Gordon. Then at Dent.
"We take down the money," Batman decided. "Tonight."
"Good," Dent smiled. It was a winning smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. "I'll get the warrants for the warehouse district. You handle the muscle."
Dent turned to leave.
"Mr. Dent," I called out softly.
Harvey stopped. "Yeah?"
"That coin," I pointed to the silver dollar in his hand. "Be careful with it. Luck is a finite resource. Spend it wisely."
Dent looked at the coin. It was a double-headed coin. He couldn't lose.
"I make my own luck, butler," Dent smirked.
He walked back inside.
Gordon sighed, taking a cup of coffee from my tray. "He's on edge. The pressure is getting to him."
"We'll watch him," Batman promised. "Let's go, Robin. We have a bank to rob."
Falcone's Money Warehouse - 11:00 PM
The warehouse was essentially a fortress. Carmine "The Roman" Falcone kept his cash reserves here before laundering them offshore.
"Heat signatures indicate twenty armed guards," Robin reported from the gargoyle across the street. "And... whoa. That's a lot of cash."
Through the skylight, we could see pallets of untreated bills. Millions of dollars.
"We go in quiet," Batman commanded. "Secure the perimeter. Then we let Gordon raid it."
"Or," I suggested, adjusting my gloves. "We could create a distraction."
"What kind of distraction?" Robin asked.
"The spooky kind. It is Halloween, after all."
I dropped from the roof.
I didn't land silently. I landed on the hood of the lead guard's car with a massive CRASH, purposefully triggering the alarm.
The guards poured out.
"It's the Demon!" one screamed. (I had developed quite a reputation over the last year).
"Open fire!"
Bullets flew. I stood still, letting them pass through the wisps of shadow I projected. I smiled, my eyes glowing red.
"Trick or treat," I whispered.
While the guards were busy shooting at the invincible butler, Batman and Robin dropped through the skylight behind them.
It was a rout. Batman was a whirlwind of violence. Robin was a blur of motion, disarming men before they could turn around.
Within five minutes, the warehouse was secured.
Gordon kicked the doors open, leading a SWAT team.
"Clear!" Gordon shouted.
They walked to the center of the room. A mountain of cash sat there.
"Falcone is going to feel this," Gordon said, looking at the money. "This is a crippling blow."
"It's a start," Batman said.
Suddenly, the back door opened. Harvey Dent walked in. He wasn't wearing a SWAT vest. He was wearing a suit. He walked straight to the pile of money.
"Harvey?" Gordon asked. "What are you doing?"
Dent looked at the cash. He looked at the corruption it represented.
"We can't seize this, Jim," Dent said quietly. "If we book it into evidence, it'll just disappear. Corrupt clerks. Dirty cops. Falcone will have it back in a week."
"So what do we do?" Robin asked.
Dent pulled a lighter from his pocket.
"We send a message."
"Harvey, no!" Gordon yelled.
Dent flipped the lighter. He threw it onto the pile.
The bills were dry. The fire caught instantly.
WHOOSH.
Millions of dollars erupted in flames. The heat was intense.
"Are you crazy?!" Gordon grabbed Dent. "That's evidence!"
"It's garbage!" Dent shouted back, his face illuminated by the fire. Half of his face was in shadow, half in light. "It's blood money! Burn it all!"
Batman watched the fire. He didn't move to stop it.
I stood by the door, watching Harvey Dent.
The fire reflected in his eyes. He wasn't horrified. He was exhilarated.
He likes the destruction, I noted. The duality. Order and Chaos. Law and Fire.
"The Coin didn't tell him to do that," I whispered to myself. " The beast did."
As the sirens wailed in the distance and the warehouse burned, I had a sinking feeling.
We hadn't just started a war with the Falcone family. We had started a war for Harvey Dent's soul.
And I wasn't sure if even the Batman could win that one.
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