Mid-morning. The sky outside was bright but dulled by clouds smeared across Midtown. Dent sat behind his desk, a quarter turning in his fingers. He flipped it, caught it, flipped it again. His gaze drifted across the river, but it never settled on anything.
In the corner, a television played on mute. Vicki Vale stood reporting from Elm Street, her lips moving in silence.
Dent picked up the phone, squeezing the coin in his hand.
On his desk, a copy of The Gothamist lay open, the headline bold:
OCCULT COPS AND KILLER CROC
By Marion Perez
He smirked. "Wonder which one you got to squeal, Mari."
A crackling voice answered. "Hello?"
"Sam. It's Harvey."
"Harvey! I'd ask how things are, but I can just watch the circus on the news. How much of it's true?"
"All of it."
"Even the giant lizard?"
"So I've heard."
"No shit?" He chuckled. "Well, it is Uptown. No offense."
"None taken," said Dent, flipping the coin, "Listen Sam, I need call in a favor."
"What kind?"
"I need you to smooth something over. Burned a bridge I didn't mean to."
"Who?"
"Tiffany Haskell."
Sam laughed. "What the hell did you do?"
"Came at her too hard. Thought I had good intel, but I didn't. Now, she's pissed. Elliot said she made a scene last night when he was having dinner with his folks at the Marseille."
"So what's the ask?"
"A job."
"That's a big ask. Something else I should know?"
"She's got connections, strong ones," Dent turned the coin over his fingers.
"You know, there are rumors about her."
"Really?"
"Don't play dumb. You've heard them too."
"I don't deal in rumors."
Sam sighed. "Alright. I'll reach out."
"Appreciate it."
The second line beeped. Dent clicked over. Rita's smooth voice was almost as grounding as the coin.
"You've got a call on hold—and Judge Hawkley's here."
"Who's on hold?"
"Tiffany Haskell. She sounds…heated."
"Keep her there. Send in the judge."
He dropped the coin on the desk and stood as the door opened. Judge Hawkley stepped in. He was in his mid-fifties, lean, and with a tailored overcoat folded over one arm.
"Judge. Welcome to Uptown."
"Harvey." Hawkley smiled as he set his coat on the rack. His eyes took in the city skyline. "Always loved the buildings in Uptown—they've got character—like Gaudí meets Gothic antique. Distinct, but also stubborn."
"Pretty on the outside, but crumbling underneath," Dent said.
"Pinkney buildings are like that. Nobody was maintaining them, well that's changed now." Hawkley stepped to the desk. "I won't take much of your time."
"I could use the break. What brings you?"
Hawkley nodded toward the paper. "How much of it's true?"
"She doesn't invent things."
"A giant crocodile man?"
Dent shrugged.
"I did what you wanted," said Hawkley, "Asked around about Loeb."
"And?"
"Not good. Word is, he sent Flass after a cop's wife. Downtown's pissed."
"Guess they don't like the taste of their own medicine."
"Loeb is scrambling. He sent Internal Affairs digging through different precincts. They're digging hard. And the Governor called him personally this morning."
Dent already knew Loeb was using I.A. to check his people in Uptown. He used their presence to dial up the pressure on Homicide, but the Governor? He leaned forward.
"What did the Governor want?"
"Ripped into him about a citywide crime database—ask why only parts of Gotham are syncing to it. Said if it had been done on time, maybe these murders could've been stopped."
Dent grinned.
"I also had an idea. Something that could help when you run for DA."
"Who says I'm running?"
Hawkley threw him smirk, "When that time comes, you'll need money."
"Could use that now."
"There's someone who might be able to help. Problem is, he doesn't normally play local politics."
"You're not talking about—?"
"He'd be a strong backer."
Dent scoffed. "He's a kid who beds every socialite in Downtown and spends his nights partying and his days hungover."
Hawkley cleared his throat. Dent forgot sometimes how uptight the Judge could be.
"He just needs guidance. A lot of us have tried, but no one has gotten through to him."
Dent scoffed. "I"m not looking to be some billionaire's big brother."
"But you are looking for influence. The Wayne name still carries it. People respect The Wayne Foundation and outside of Gotham the company has strong influence."
Dent leaned back, thoughtful. He picked up the silver coin from his desk, flicked it into the air, and caught it.
"If he plays by my rules, then maybe," said Dent, flipping the coin and catching it. "I'll think about it."