THE DA COULDN'T UNDERSTAND WHY JUDGE FADEN INSISTED ON MAKING THE HEARING PUBLIC," says Rachel in the car ride. I feel like throwing up, sitting in the car with a murderer, but I hold it back. "Falcone paid him off to get Chill out in the open."
"Maybe I should thank them," Bruce says. He doesn't look at Rachel at all. She moves her mouth a lot when she talks. I, to be perfectly honest, think Rachel is very pretty. Her brown hair is pulled back on the top in a way I can never perfect.
"You don't mean that," says Rachel. I see where the conversation is going.
"What if I do?" Bruce looks Rachel in the eye as the horrible thought of my brother in a orange jumpsuit being shoved into a cell at Gotham prison for murder crosses my mind. "My parents deserved justice."
"You're not talking about justice," says Rachel. "You're talking about revenge. "
"They're completely different, Bruce," I say. The fear has worn off. Now I am mad. What has happened to my brother? Who has replaced him with this murderer?
"Sometimes they're the same," Bruce defends himself.
No, they're never the same," says Rachel. "Justice is harmony. Revenge is you making yourself better, Bruce. Which is why we have an impartial system."
"Your system is broken," Bruce's says plainly. Suddenly the car swings to the left, jerking me around in the back seat. We drive down to what looks to me like a forgotten parking garage.
"You care about justice? Look behind your own pain, Bruce," Rachel says, clearly on edge with my suddenly cocky assassin of a brother. "This city is rotting. They talk about the depression as if it's history. It's not! Things are worse than ever here."
"Falcone has been flooding our streets with crime, and drugs, preying on the desperate, Bruce," I say, a bit edgy as well, "and new Chills are formed every day." I stare out the window at all the homeless, dirty people over small fires. "Falcone didn't kill mom and dad, but-" Rachel interrupts me.
"But he's destroying every thing they stood for, Bruce." We aren't in the parking garage of hobo central, but web are stopping at bar. "Here you go, go thank him for it. We all know where to find him. As long as he keeps the bad people rich and the good people scared, nobody will touch him."
"Bruce, people, good people, like mom and dad, they'll stand up against injustice. They're gone," I say. The part of my heart that is jealous of all the years Bruce got with mom and dad is piercing with pain. "What chance does this city have if the good people do nothing?"
Marilyn, I'm not one of those good people."
"What do you mean?" Rachel doesn't know what is pushed into his jacket sleeve, what is missing a bullet, a bullet that is in Chill's back.
"All these years...I wanted to kill him." Bruce Wayne, billionaire orphan murderer. I don't like the sound of that. "Now I can't."
He pulls the gun from his sleeve and stares at it in his hands. Rachel stares with almost as much shock and disbelief as I had when he shot it. They lock eyes for a moment, then Rachel slaps him. When he shows no sign of pain, she slaps him again. Her red hand print is on his face.
"Your father would be ashamed of you." That probably stabbed Bruce in the heart with a knife of regret. As tears come up in my eyes, and Rachel's, he slams the car door open and slams it shut. We dart down the street. I stare at my brother through the blurs of the hot tears of fury backing up in my eyes. I watch as he throws it into the water with a grunt. Then he stomps off to the door of the bar. That is the last I see of him before the car gets too far for me too see him.