"How've you been?" Harley asked as she entered the back room Scott had been given as an office. It also doubled as a sleeping area, keeping him away from the other goons. The desk, the chair Scott sat in, and a military style cot were the only furnishing in the dimly lit space.

"Hey," Scott said wearily. He smiled because he hadn't seen her in over a month, Joker's assignments having taken priority. "I've been working like crazy."

"Crazy is the name of the game in this outfit," Harley told him, walking over and sitting on the corner of his desk.

"Joker has me running around all over Gotham," Scott explained. "During the last three weeks, I've had to threaten, assault, or eliminate the last remaining pockets of criminal activity not under his control."

"Cleaning house," Harley guessed. "He won't want any opposition at his back as he moves forward with the next part of his plan."

"I haven't seen the boss much lately," Scott admitted.

"He's been digging through the information left behind by Penguin, Two-Face, and any other crime bosses who are either dead or pushed out of Gotham," Harley explained. "The information found usually gives Joker new bases of operation to target or storehouses to loot. With every operation, J's hold on Gotham intensifies."

"It must be pretty strong by now," Scott said. He spun the diagram around on his desk so Harley could read it easily. "See what he has me drawing up plans for."

Harley looked the blueprint over, and her eyes suddenly flicked up to stare at him. "Seriously?"

"I'm afraid so," Scott admitted. "The GCPD, Gotham City Police Department is the next target for takeover."

"They have lots of guns," Harley warned. "And, they're better trained than some of the street level stooges you've faced so far."

"Helicopters, SWAT teams, body armored troops," Scott listed off. "Getting past them will require a large number of our own people, striking multiple locations at the same time. If we can spread them out, take them down in smaller groups, we could thin their overall ranks to make the final assault easier."

"You'd have to work fast," Harley added. "They'll catch on if too many patrols start failing to return. You may have to launch all your attacks against them at the same time."

Scott leaned back and dropped a fist against the surface of the desk. "I wish there was a way without the casualties this is going to involve. Killing thugs and murderers is one thing, but this is different. These are cops."

"They're Gotham cops," Harley reminded. "Do you know how many of those dedicated public servants have innocent blood on their hands?"

Scott shook his head.

"You got a taste for desperate and it landed you in Joker's ranks," Harley continued. "Wanna know how many of those thugs you mentioned got their start? When a gang moves in to a neighborhood, they give potential members a choice: join up or someone in your family is going to die, perhaps all of them. The new recruits can't get help from the cops because even if the police felt like helping, the cops can't do anything until an actual crime is committed, and by then, it's too late. Most gang neighborhoods are poor, making moving somewhere else out of the question. Lacking much of a choice, the people give into the gang and join.

"One day, the new recruits will find themselves staring down the barrel of a cop's gun, leaving them the choices of becoming a cop killer and losing any chance at getting out of the criminal life, getting killed by the cop, or spending a good chunk of their life behind bars where they'll be the plaything of the thugs, murderers, and rapists already confined there.

"Prison guards have heard every sob story you can imagine, tailor made by the cons trying to get them to relax so the criminals can escape. Naturally, you can imagine the effect it has on the guards. If you were being victimized by another prisoner, the guards won't want to listen because they suspect it to be a lie trying to catch them blindsided.

"How many of the thugs and killers you've already put down were only there because they didn't have a choice other than death? Many of them were people like you, but you didn't think of that once before mowing them down, did you?"

Scott sat back in his chair as if Harley had slapped him in the face.

"Why the sudden accusations?" Scott asked.

"You're hesitating to kill cops because they carry a badge, just like you used to do," Harley told him. She leaned forward, placing her palms on the desk and glaring into his eyes. "This is Gotham, a jungle of concrete, stone, and steel. In the jungle there are only the predators who devour others and the prey who get devoured. You already made your choice as to which side of the line you wanted to stand on, don't come complaining to me because you don't like the foul taste it leaves in your mouth."

Harley stood up but kept her hands on the desk like a crouched lion ready to spring. Tears welled in her eyes as she went on.

"Sometimes, you can't change your mind after you realize your mistake, can't take back the damage you've caused," Harley told him. The anger had drained from her voice, leaving it a mournful whisper. "Even if later you realize death would've been better than where you ended up, you're still stuck, no going back, no mending what's been broken, and you can't bring the dead back to life."

Tears flowed uncontrollably from Harley's eyes, and she rushed from the room. Scott stood halfway up from his chair before deciding against going after her. As much as he wanted to console her and find out what was troubling her, if Joker caught him chasing Harley through the building while she was crying, Scott suspected he wouldn't be given the time to explain.

Sitting back down, Scott silently stared out the door after her. He felt as if he'd only been in on half the conversation, and he reasoned something must've happened to Harley personally, perhaps one of those "mistakes you can't take back" she'd mentioned. Scott wondered what it could be. It was doubtful any of the goons would know, and even if they did, they'd probably be less than forthcoming. Asking the Joker about Harley was suicidal, so Scott decided if he wanted to help Harley, he'd have to do some research on his own time.

Looking back to the blueprint of the GCPD, Scott searched for weaknesses and entry points he might be able to use during the attack.

   ***   

Scott reported to Joker's office when he felt the attack plan couldn't get any better. It would probably be one of the most costly fights in terms of casualties, but the other plans Scott had considered had even higher body counts.

Joker was putting away in a tall cabinet the important things taken from the fallen crime bosses. He had Two-Face's coin on a plaque. The wood was covered in a clear finish, but only one side had received a stain, giving the plaque a two tone quality. Penguin's umbrella leaned against the inside of the cabinet on the bottom shelf.

What caught Scott's eye the most was a perfectly square box painted black with no other ornamentation. It sat by itself in the center of the top shelf at eye level. Nothing else resided on the shelf with the box; in fact, Scott seemed to think the other souvenirs were stacked in such a way as to give the box prominence.

"You're getting quite a collection," Scott remarked.

"Yes, but with all collections, I do have a favorite," Joker replied with a snicker. "Can you guess?"

"The black box," Scott speculated.

"Yes, indeed," Joker confirmed happily. "I'll even show you what's in it if you promise not to tell."

Scott nodded and stepped forward for a closer look as Joker tilted back the lid. When he looked over Joker's shoulder, Scott felt lightheaded. Sitting in the box was a perfectly preserved human skull. Draped over the skull was a black cowl with vertically pointing ears.

"Is that?" Scott managed to ask.

"It most certainly is!" Joker declared proudly. "I should've put it together sooner that Bruce Wayne was Batman. After all, who but a billionaire could've afforded all those fancy toys?"

Scott's mind was reeling with all the new information swirling around in his mind like a hurricane.

"Once I knew who he was," Joker went on. "I tore through his place and found where he keeps all those expensive goodies. He had a massive computer down there in his cave, although working in such dim light must've been hard on his eyes. The computer was encrypted, but after six months with the best hacker I could get, Batman's files are mine."

"What did he have on the computer?" Scott asked. "Police files and such?"

"Yes, but also a little bit more," Joker snickered. "Bats kept records on all us crooks. How do you think we knew about Two-Face's secret exits? It also seems like he didn't trust anyone as we found a stuffed data file with information on the Justice League and how to take down each and every one of them!"

"Why would Batman have those?" Scott questioned.

"The files say they're for containment if one or more goes bad or has their mind messed with," Joker told him. "But, that's not what I'm going to use them for. Who would've thought the person who would be responsible for my taking over the world would be Batman? That really is funny!"

Joker had trouble getting out the last sentence more than one word at a time as he was laughing too hard.

"If you killed Batman, why are you keeping it secret?" Scott asked.

Joker suddenly straightened up, the laughter and smile gone. He closed the box and slammed the cabinet doors. Taking a fistful of Scott's shirt, the clown pulled him close until their noses almost touched.

"I don't tell anyone because I don't want anyone to know," Joker growled through gritted teeth. The feral grin reappeared as the Joker added. "It's an inside joke."