THE KILLING JOKE

Part 6: The Campaign

The Gotham City Hall was a hive of activity, buzzing with the energy of reporters, campaign staff, and Gotham's upper crust who had gathered for the mayoral election's final debate. The grand hall, draped in banners and signs bearing the names Harvey Dent and Bruce Wayne, was packed to capacity. Outside, the streets were filled with onlookers, curious citizens, and protesters—everyone eager to see what the future held for their city.

At the center of it all stood two men: Harvey Dent, Gotham's charismatic District Attorney, and Bruce Wayne, the billionaire philanthropist. Both men had come to symbolize hope for a city drowning in crime and corruption. But they couldn't have been more different. Harvey was a fighter—a man of the people who had spent his career battling Gotham's criminal underworld with relentless passion. Bruce, on the other hand, was a reluctant candidate, drawn into the race by public pressure after years of quietly funding the city's rebuilding efforts through Wayne Enterprises.

Behind the stage, in the darkened wings, Harvey adjusted his tie, his jaw clenched as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He could hear the murmur of the crowd, the flashing cameras, the restless energy of a city yearning for a hero. This was his moment. He'd been waiting for it his entire life.

His campaign manager, Grace, walked up beside him, her face tight with concern. "You ready, Harvey?"

He didn't answer right away. His mind was elsewhere, turning over the weight of the decision he was about to make. His face, usually so full of confidence, was shadowed with doubt. "Do you think they believe it?" he asked quietly. "That I can actually change things?"

Grace frowned. "You've been changing things for years. This city knows that. You've put more criminals behind bars than anyone else in Gotham's history. You're the best shot we've got."

Harvey nodded, but the tension didn't leave his face. "Yeah, but what if it's not enough? What if... what if this city just keeps eating itself alive? What if no matter how hard we fight, we can't stop the rot?"

Grace put a hand on his shoulder, her voice steady. "You're the symbol they need, Harvey. You've given people hope. That's more than anyone's done in years."

Harvey glanced toward the stage, where Bruce Wayne stood, talking quietly with one of his aides. Bruce, always calm, always collected. A man with more money than most could imagine, a man who'd never truly had to fight like Harvey had. Yet there he was, competing for the same position.

Harvey's lips pressed into a thin line. "Wayne... he doesn't belong in this race. He doesn't understand what it's like out there. He hides in his tower while people like me are down in the trenches. He's not Gotham's saviour. He's a symbol of its excess."

Grace started to respond, but before she could, one of the stagehands gave them the signal. It was time.

Harvey straightened up, took a deep breath, and stepped out onto the stage to thunderous applause. Across the podium, Bruce gave him a polite nod as they shook hands in front of the crowd. Cameras flashed, capturing the image of the two men—the heart and the money of Gotham's future.

The moderator, a stern-looking woman with a clipboard in hand, stepped up to the microphone. "Ladies and gentlemen of Gotham, thank you for joining us for this historic debate. Tonight, we will hear from our two candidates for mayor: District Attorney Harvey Dent, and businessman Bruce Wayne. Both men represent a vision for Gotham's future, but only one will lead us into it. Gentlemen, the floor is yours."

Harvey looked out at the crowd, his eyes scanning the sea of faces—people desperate for a leader. He could feel the weight of their expectations pressing down on him.

Bruce spoke first, delivering a polished, measured speech about infrastructure, education, and reform. He emphasized his family's legacy in Gotham, how Wayne Enterprises had poured millions into rebuilding the city after years of neglect. It was a strong pitch, filled with hope and promise, but Harvey could see through it. Bruce's words were carefully crafted, but they lacked the fire, the drive to fight for Gotham the way he had.

Then it was Harvey's turn. He stepped up to the podium, his jaw set, his voice steady as he began.

"Gotham," he said, "is a city that's always stood on the edge of something great. But every time we get close, we fall back into darkness. We've all seen it—the crime, the corruption, the greed that tears this city apart. I've spent my career fighting it, putting mobsters behind bars, rooting out the filth that tries to drag us down. But the fight isn't over. It's just beginning."

The crowd murmured in agreement, some nodding, others applauding softly.

"But here's the thing," Harvey continued, his voice rising. "The fight to save Gotham isn't just about laws or money. It's about sacrifice. It's about how much we're willing to risk for the future of this city. And I'm willing to risk everything."

He paused, glancing over at Bruce, then back to the crowd. "Bruce Wayne is a good man, a decent man. He's done more for this city financially than anyone could have asked for. But money isn't what Gotham needs right now. We need courage. We need people who are willing to get their hands dirty, to face the evil that lurks in our streets head-on."

His eyes hardened, his voice lowering as he delivered the line that would echo through Gotham's history. "You see, in this city, you either die a hero, or you live long enough to see yourself become the villain. I've seen good men fall, twisted by power, by corruption. But I won't be one of them. I will fight for Gotham, and I will give everything I have to make sure this city doesn't fall into the hands of those who would tear it apart."

The room went silent for a moment, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. Then, slowly, the applause began. It started as a murmur, but grew into something thunderous, shaking the walls of the hall. Harvey stood tall, his chest swelling with the energy of the crowd. This was his city. These were his people.

Bruce Wayne watched from his podium, his face unreadable. He clapped politely, but his eyes were focused, studying Harvey with the quiet intensity of someone who saw the deeper layers beneath the speech.

As the applause died down, the moderator stepped back to the microphone. "Thank you, Mr. Dent. And thank you, Mr. Wayne. Ladies and gentlemen, you've heard from both candidates. Now it's up to you to decide the future of Gotham."

Harvey and Bruce shook hands again for the cameras, but this time, there was a different energy between them. Harvey could feel the tension in Bruce's grip—firm, unyielding, but with an undercurrent of something darker. As they parted, Bruce leaned in, his voice low enough that only Harvey could hear.

"Be careful, Harvey," Bruce said softly, his tone warning but not hostile. "Gotham has a way of breaking even the best of us."

Harvey met his gaze, his eyes flashing with determination. "Maybe. But I'm not planning on breaking. I'm planning on winning."

Bruce gave a faint nod, but the worry in his eyes remained as they turned away from the cameras and the crowd, heading off the stage into the uncertain future.

In the shadows, unseen by either candidate, one of Jack Napier's men watched the debate with a smirk on his face. He slipped out of the hall unnoticed, the wheels already turning in Jack's mind. Gotham's future wasn't going to be decided by politicians or money.

No, Gotham belonged to chaos.

And soon, everyone would see that.