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RELATIONSHIPS
CANON.
RACHEL DAWES. There was this girl you see, in the D.A.’s office. She was passionate and committed, not bad looking either, but that determination fascinated one Harvey Dent. Of course there was his campaign to focus on, the death of their boss, the rise of a corrupt new one, but sitting in the foyers was hardly Harvey’s style. One day you wake up and realize it could be your last, and what are you doing? So he offered a little bargain (made his own luck) and got a date that led to another and another until he realized hell, he was probably in love.
Events passed, the mob wanted him dead, the Joker wanted worse more than likely, and Harvey asked one Rachel Dawes to marry him. He never got an answer in Gotham, the last time he saw her was as the swat car door closed and hid her small smile.
BRUCE WAYNE. Harvey heard enough stories (not everything apparently, tricky billionaires and their secrets), about one Bruce Wayne to gain a more insightful opinion of the man: he’s a giant dick. Well, that may sound harsh but ruining very expensive dates and absconding entire ballets the exact night Harvey and his courted companion were going to see it tends to leave a bad taste in your mouth. Bruce Wayne is a dick. He also throws terrible parties.
BATMAN. The Batman, the caped crusader, flying around the night fighting crime; yeah, it sounds like a crock. Even Harvey thought so at first (The man’s insane, needing a new hobby doesn’t even cover it) though compared to some he was tolerant; curious even. He watched, listened, read in the paper. More and more he realized hey, this guy may be a nut but he’s on to something. Nothing can change if no one steps up. The city needs symbols like this, guardians, it’s been rotten for too long, blinded, and it needs to be taken by the hand and lead safely back. Shock turned to amusement, which turned to curiosity, which turned to grudging respect and finally honest admiration. The city’s ‘Dark Knight,’ he was doing what everyone should have done years and years ago.
Harvey placed his faith in the man, his life even when he revealed himself as ‘the Batman’ in order to give the hero a chance to catch the Joker. He was rewarded in his faith, his ass was saved, the Joker was caught, and all their efforts finally were fruitful. A nice little happy ending.
JIM GORDON. Even Dent had to admit the man was as good a cop as you could get in Gotham, probably the best. That doesn’t stop the suspicion; all of Gordon’s lacky MCU underlings were more than suspicious and Jim Gordon seemed to ignore that fact, dealing with the devils. Maybe Gordon was right, what else could he do? But Harvey was never so sure. It’s one thing working with them, it’s another trusting them, and Gordon put far too much faith in potentially corrupt sources. Worrying was one word, stupid another, desperate the last.
And then Gordon died, saving the mayor, and in the subsequent rush of events Harvey didn’t have a chance to consider it, though part of him silently saluted the man’s efforts. Bad choices but a good man; a dead man but then a living one (and he thought Wayne was a tricky bastard), rising from the dead in time to save Batman from the Joker and catch the clown. Harvey had to admit respect, Jim Gordon was a good man, even if those around him were a disease. Maybe though, maybe putting faith in such people wasn’t so terrible; after all, they helped catch the clown.
THE JOKER. Speaking of disease, there was a prime example. A circus performer out of nowhere, throwing together heists that were practically out of a comic book and thwarting the police at every turn. At first, of course, Harvey didn’t have time to pay attention; the mob was bigger, more dangerous and more influential then some clown in makeup and a purple suit. They were close, so close, to finally putting the lot of them away, wiping that smirk of Malone’s face, and some madman with a costume fetish was not even close to that league.
Or so he thought. One minute he was a side column article Harvey would skim on the ride to work, the next he was on the news, perpetual smile on his face, The Batman needs to take off his mask, putting a hit on Harvey’s head. The fundraiser was crashed, the mayor was shot at, and then the Joker put Rachel in his sights and something in Harvey howled in rage. Suddenly the Joker was public enemy number one, to Harvey and to the bat. He needed to be caught, and he was with the Batman’s help, dragged away by Jim Gordon as Harvey deflected the media. He only caught glimpse of the man face to face once, and instead of seeing some abyss in those eyes he swore fire.
JONATHAN CRANE. Jonathan Crane, aka the Scarecrow, a terrorist Harvey had never had the grotesque pleasure to meet. The attack on the Narrows was still fresh in his mind, in everyone’s, and talk of fear toxin and the maddening screams at Arkham Asylum followed his name in Harvey’s memory, along with Rachel’s voice.
And there was the link, Rachel’s stories, the terror of what the man had done (maggots) was all Harvey knew, and it’s all that mattered. He looked at the files, he listened to the stories and he helped push the harshest sentence when Batman recaptured the madman. Men like him deserved nothing more then rotting in a cell, surrounded by their own companions in filth.
In progress
Anon commenting enabled.
RELATIONSHIPS
CANON.
RACHEL DAWES. There was this girl you see, in the D.A.’s office. She was passionate and committed, not bad looking either, but that determination fascinated one Harvey Dent. Of course there was his campaign to focus on, the death of their boss, the rise of a corrupt new one, but sitting in the foyers was hardly Harvey’s style. One day you wake up and realize it could be your last, and what are you doing? So he offered a little bargain (made his own luck) and got a date that led to another and another until he realized hell, he was probably in love.
Events passed, the mob wanted him dead, the Joker wanted worse more than likely, and Harvey asked one Rachel Dawes to marry him. He never got an answer in Gotham, the last time he saw her was as the swat car door closed and hid her small smile.
BRUCE WAYNE. Harvey heard enough stories (not everything apparently, tricky billionaires and their secrets), about one Bruce Wayne to gain a more insightful opinion of the man: he’s a giant dick. Well, that may sound harsh but ruining very expensive dates and absconding entire ballets the exact night Harvey and his courted companion were going to see it tends to leave a bad taste in your mouth. Bruce Wayne is a dick. He also throws terrible parties.
BATMAN. The Batman, the caped crusader, flying around the night fighting crime; yeah, it sounds like a crock. Even Harvey thought so at first (The man’s insane, needing a new hobby doesn’t even cover it) though compared to some he was tolerant; curious even. He watched, listened, read in the paper. More and more he realized hey, this guy may be a nut but he’s on to something. Nothing can change if no one steps up. The city needs symbols like this, guardians, it’s been rotten for too long, blinded, and it needs to be taken by the hand and lead safely back. Shock turned to amusement, which turned to curiosity, which turned to grudging respect and finally honest admiration. The city’s ‘Dark Knight,’ he was doing what everyone should have done years and years ago.
Harvey placed his faith in the man, his life even when he revealed himself as ‘the Batman’ in order to give the hero a chance to catch the Joker. He was rewarded in his faith, his ass was saved, the Joker was caught, and all their efforts finally were fruitful. A nice little happy ending.
JIM GORDON. Even Dent had to admit the man was as good a cop as you could get in Gotham, probably the best. That doesn’t stop the suspicion; all of Gordon’s lacky MCU underlings were more than suspicious and Jim Gordon seemed to ignore that fact, dealing with the devils. Maybe Gordon was right, what else could he do? But Harvey was never so sure. It’s one thing working with them, it’s another trusting them, and Gordon put far too much faith in potentially corrupt sources. Worrying was one word, stupid another, desperate the last.
And then Gordon died, saving the mayor, and in the subsequent rush of events Harvey didn’t have a chance to consider it, though part of him silently saluted the man’s efforts. Bad choices but a good man; a dead man but then a living one (and he thought Wayne was a tricky bastard), rising from the dead in time to save Batman from the Joker and catch the clown. Harvey had to admit respect, Jim Gordon was a good man, even if those around him were a disease. Maybe though, maybe putting faith in such people wasn’t so terrible; after all, they helped catch the clown.
THE JOKER. Speaking of disease, there was a prime example. A circus performer out of nowhere, throwing together heists that were practically out of a comic book and thwarting the police at every turn. At first, of course, Harvey didn’t have time to pay attention; the mob was bigger, more dangerous and more influential then some clown in makeup and a purple suit. They were close, so close, to finally putting the lot of them away, wiping that smirk of Malone’s face, and some madman with a costume fetish was not even close to that league.
Or so he thought. One minute he was a side column article Harvey would skim on the ride to work, the next he was on the news, perpetual smile on his face, The Batman needs to take off his mask, putting a hit on Harvey’s head. The fundraiser was crashed, the mayor was shot at, and then the Joker put Rachel in his sights and something in Harvey howled in rage. Suddenly the Joker was public enemy number one, to Harvey and to the bat. He needed to be caught, and he was with the Batman’s help, dragged away by Jim Gordon as Harvey deflected the media. He only caught glimpse of the man face to face once, and instead of seeing some abyss in those eyes he swore fire.
JONATHAN CRANE. Jonathan Crane, aka the Scarecrow, a terrorist Harvey had never had the grotesque pleasure to meet. The attack on the Narrows was still fresh in his mind, in everyone’s, and talk of fear toxin and the maddening screams at Arkham Asylum followed his name in Harvey’s memory, along with Rachel’s voice.
And there was the link, Rachel’s stories, the terror of what the man had done (maggots) was all Harvey knew, and it’s all that mattered. He looked at the files, he listened to the stories and he helped push the harshest sentence when Batman recaptured the madman. Men like him deserved nothing more then rotting in a cell, surrounded by their own companions in filth.
In progress