In the beginning, when Bruce first heard the grim news that Harvey had been attacked on his way to work, resulting in disfigurement from acid burns, he immediately rushed to visit him.
Harvey Dent's head was entirely wrapped in white bandages, a condition he would have to maintain for the foreseeable future. He lay weakly against the hospital bed, with his fiancée Gilda sitting nearby. The atmosphere in the room was somber, and when Bruce arrived with Avery, no one even had the energy for polite greetings.
To be fair, Bruce Wayne, a so-called empty-headed playboy, and Harvey, a once-promising district attorney, had never been close friends. Their camaraderie paled in comparison to Harvey's bond with Batman, rooted in shared ideals. But still, Harvey felt touched that Bruce had come to see him.
"It's clear you really do consider me a friend," Harvey said, with a hint of emotion.
Now, the many people who used to flatter Harvey were nowhere to be seen. Clearly, the sight of his disfigurement and the likelihood that his career was over made those people unwilling even to maintain appearances.
There was no way for a disfigured man to continue rising in politics. Soon enough, someone else might even take his place as district attorney, as his appearance could negatively impact the city's official image.
Bruce shook his head. "I've always considered you a friend. You've made real changes for Gotham, things I could never achieve alone."
"Don't put it that way. You've done so much for charity, haven't you? How many people in this city would do something so generous, even if they had more money than they could spend?" Harvey said with a bitter twist to his smile.
"Everyone has their own field of expertise."
Bruce smiled. "I'm glad you see it that way. I'll continue to support you as you work in the field you excel at."
At this, Harvey's expression darkened, his hand clenched slowly into a fist on the bed. "Looking like this… what right do I have to continue on?"
Harvey's fiancée, Gilda, shot Bruce a glare, irritated by his tactless mention of Harvey's recent trauma.
Bruce, seemingly unfazed, continued, "I've already contacted the world's best reconstructive surgeon. Once your injuries stabilize, you'll be able to undergo surgery, and I'll cover all expenses."
Seeing Harvey's astonished expression, he added, "This is my small way of honoring Gotham's Knight of Light—please don't refuse."
Back in the car, Avery looked over at Bruce and said, "You seem troubled. It's because of Harvey, isn't it?"
Though phrased as a question, his tone made it clear he already knew.
Bruce gazed out the window. Harvey's hospital room was on the third floor; from here, he could even catch a glimpse of Gilda pacing by the window. He looked away. "I failed to keep him safe," he murmured. When they first began working together, Batman had promised to protect Harvey's safety.
Avery frowned slightly. "You shouldn't see it that way. Once you agreed to work together, you couldn't have backed out just because protecting him might be difficult. Every decision carries risks that can only be minimized—not avoided. Besides…"
Avery's gaze turned cold. "Besides, after what happened with Maroni, I made it a point to monitor Dent's security closely. If this happened even with those precautions, it means someone is actively scheming to ruin him."
In this city, too many businesses are enmeshed with crime. Compared to Batman, who operates in the shadows, Harvey—living his life openly in the daylight—had already disrupted too many operations and become a visible target. As heartbreaking as this attack was, it wasn't entirely surprising. In fact, those conspiring against him likely weren't limited to just one group.
Bruce nodded solemnly. "You're right. That's why I need to find out exactly who is behind this."
Avery offered no reply, but he reached over to buckle his seatbelt, ready to drive them back.
Since those two kidnapping incidents, Avery, who used to only accompany Bruce to formal events, now rarely left his side. This arrangement was a deliberate precaution to prevent any more abductions.
It was Avery's idea. He believed that while Bruce couldn't easily break his image as a hapless billionaire, Avery himself had no such limitations. A bodyguard-butler was entirely plausible, and, after all, it was far more normal for a billionaire to have close protection than to be constantly unguarded and thus repeatedly kidnapped.
The sound of the car starting was followed almost instantly by another, far more alarming noise—the unmistakable ticking of a timed explosive. Bruce and Avery, both immediately recognizing the danger, exchanged a quick look before each kicked open their respective doors, diving out of the car and sprinting as fast as they could.
Boom!
A searing wave of red-hot air surged across the street as the blast erupted, shattering the quiet with a roar and sending thick plumes of smoke billowing into the sky. The entire stretch of road was caught in the detonation, leaving a trail of destruction. Thankfully, no pedestrians had been close enough to get hurt, though several nearby parked cars bore the brunt of the explosion, reduced to charred wreckage.
"What happened?"
Gilda, hearing the explosion from her third-floor hospital room, rushed to the window and looked down, only to see Avery and Bruce's slightly disheveled figures, along with the smoking remains of their vehicle.
She covered her mouth in shock.
"What on earth happened?"
Harvey, watching from his hospital bed, couldn't help but ask.
At the scene.
"It looks like whoever's behind this has their sights on you too," Avery said coolly, surveying the burning wreckage of the explosion site.
"Yeah, I got that," Bruce replied, his expression equally tense as he lowered the hands that had been covering his ears.
Soon, a police patrol arrived, drawn by the sound of the blast, and Bruce and Avery were brought to the station to give their statements. Gotham PD officers proceeded with a thorough investigation, examining the site, checking surveillance footage, questioning potential witnesses—everything standard in such cases.