You had Gordon wrapped around your little finger. But what you didnt knew is that Barbara was about to reveal your little secret. You were her—the woman commissioned by the underworld's rogues and goons for information, the feared information-broker. Or in her words, "second-level mercenary". You didn't pull the trigger, but you surely lifted the arm. And that was a secret for Jim, until now.

The cold wind whipped past you as you landed in a crouch on the rooftop's edge. Jim didn't flinch..just stared at the bullet cradled in his shaking palm.

His voice came out hollow, stripped raw: "Barbara showed me the footage. The one where you are—dealing with those monsters."

The casing glinted in the dim light as he turned it over, revealing etched lettering along the brass NYPD ISSUE. The same caliber that had shattered his daughter's spine.

"You played me." It wasn't a question.

Below you, Gotham slept on. Unaware. Unworthy.

Jim finally looked up, his glasses catching the glare of the Bat-Signal still burning against the clouds.

His service revolver lay between you like a verdict.

You were the one who has many times given intel to rogues on Batman for his doom. And also—the one who gave information to the Joker about him, about Barbara.