A joke. He, Miranda, and the other cops were on “trial” before Jonathan Crane of all people. A mob of hoods, mercs, and escaped prisoners—many of whom Gordon was personally responsible for putting behind bars—crowded the former stock exchange, hooting and hollering at the disgusting spectacle. Bane himself watched from the upper gallery. Gordon repressed a shudder at the sight of the masked madman who was close to destroying Gotham. The scars from his bullet wounds throbbed at the memory of his first encounter with Bane in the tunnels months ago. If only we had stopped him then… “The charges are espionage and attempted sabotage,” Crane declared with an undisguised smirk. He was clearly enjoying this obscene role-reversal. “Do you have anything to say in your defense?” Gordon thought Crane belonged in straitjacket, not a judge’s robes. He refused to play along. “No lawyer, no witnesses?
