Bruce Wayne sat in a recliner in front of a large flat-screen television, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. He sipped at it thoughtfully, almost bored, as he regarded the live press conference occurring elsewhere in the city play out on his screen. A rare free day from his responibilities as the head of Wayne Industries, but never a free day for a man who needed to be aware of one of the most important men in the city... who also happened to be what Bruce considered a dear friend. Commissioner Gordon was givinng one of his usual speeches, assuring the citizens of Gotham that with the tireless efforts of the police and a certain caped crusader, their days would go by in peace and prosperity. Bruce yawned. These speeches were all well and good (he'd heard many compliments about Gordon's speeches and presentations from many citizens) but they were just words. As a man of considerable action, Bruce preferred to act to show the citizens that they could trust the Dark Knight and the local authories. The speech went on for a few more moments. Gordon said: "In conclusion..." and Bruce sighed with relief and lifted the mug to his lips to take another scolding sip...
The bullet was not picked up by the cameras. What was picked up was a sudden hole's appearance in the center of Gordon's forehead and an explosion of ruby gore out the back of his head. Bruce didn't even notice as the mug slipped from his fingers, spilling hot coffee on his pajama pants. He saw it as if it was in slow motion: the hole, the bloom of red, the dead eyes, the body falling. Screams from the crowd, screen switching to panicked news anchors. None of that mattered. All Bruce could see, as if it was branded on his eyes, was Gordon's face.