“But they supplied you a false idol,” the lunatic said. “A straw man to placate you. To stop you from tearing down this corrupt city…”

Hardened criminals peered through the barred windows of the prison. They started cheering raucously in the background.

“…and rebuilding it the way it should have been rebuilt, generations ago.” Bane dropped the burning picture. The ashes fell to the pavement in front of his tank.

“Let me tell you the truth about Harvey Dent. In the words of Gotham’s police commissioner, James Gordon.”

Blake turned away from the cupboards, wondering what exactly Bane was trying to pull here. Gordon shifted uneasily upon the couch. Onscreen, the mercenary leader unfolded a sheath of crumpled papers. He began to read aloud.

“‘The truth about Harvey Dent is simple in only one regard—it has been hidden for too long. After his devastating injuries, Harvey’s mind recovered no better than his mutilated face. He was a broken, dangerous man, not the crusader for justice that I, James Gordon, have portrayed him to be for the last eight years. Harvey’s rage was indiscriminate. Psychopathic.

“‘He held my family at gunpoint, then fell to his death in the struggle over my son’s life. The Batman did not murder Harvey Dent—he saved my boy.’” Blake stared aghast at the screen. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“‘Then Batman took the blame for Harvey’s appalling crimes, so that I could, to my shame, build a lie around this fallen idol.’”

Gordon lowered his face to his hands.

“‘I praised the madman who tried to murder my own child.’”

The crowd fell silent, stunned by what they were hearing, as Bane continued reading.

“‘The things we did in Harvey’s name brought desperately needed security to our streets. But I can no longer live with my lie. It is time to trust the people of Gotham with the truth, and it is time for me to resign.’”

Bane folded the papers and put them away. He gazed out over the speechless crowd, which included reporters and neighborhood toughs. Guards and inmates watched intently from inside Blackgate’s forbidding stone walls and towers.

Bane called out to the mob.

“Do you accept this man’s resignation?”

At first no one responded, but then a few angry faces in the back started shouting.

“Yes!”

More voices took up the cry. Inside Blackgate, the prisoners started cheering even more boisterously than before. They whooped and pounded against the bars of their cells. A TV camera zoomed in briefly on an attractive female face in one of the windows. Her guarded expression offered little clue as to what she thought of all this.

“Do you accept the resignation of all the liars?” Bane demanded. “All the corrupt?”

“Yes!” A chorus of voices, both inside and outside the prison, gave Bane their answer. “YES!”

Blake looked away from the TV in disgust. He stared accusingly at Gordon, who sat mutely on the couch. His guilty expression was all the evidence the detective needed. His own face hardened.