Gotham City.
It's been called many things:
"The Best Place on Earth"
"Land of Tomorrow"
Pfft, yeah, that's right.
I think Superman said it best, "It's like someone built a nightmare out of metal and stone."
I been living in this place for all my life, seen its ups and downs. But it never has been this bad; corruption (Though I have honestly taken a bribe or two, nothing serious.), crime, filth, drugs, laundering, and most importantly: super-villains, all of which flood Gotham's streets today.
I always say this, you don't know Gotham; Gotham knows YOU. I've lived by this since I could remember. Working on the force, I see the worst in people. Just the other day on Fifth Street, man murdered his whole family: wife, two kids, and even the dog. He didn't just kill them, no, because that would be too easy, he had to pin them up with kitchen knives on the walls. As expected, the bloodthirsty husband committed suicide. Man's brains decorated the walls behind him. That's just a normal day in the life of a detective on the Major Crimes Unit of the Gotham City Police Department. Do I enjoy the job? You bet, almost as much as I love the soothing taste of my Dutch Masters cigars.
I been working on the force for seven years now, I work beside Detective Renee Montoya, really good cop. She's got a heart, and she has a thirst for righteousness that even a job on the force can't quench. I wouldn't be surprised if one day she decides to dress up like it's Halloween and prance around Gotham City's streets fighting crime. I work under one of the best men I know, Commissioner James Gordon; honest man. His only downside is he has a really soft spot for the Bat. I mean don't get me wrong, I like the Batman; he's doing better than I ever could at fighting crime. He is what this city needs.
Recently, Internal Affairs has been all over me like a cheap suit. They even started up an investigation on me. Hey, I am an honest cop; I have good means! I just step on some toes, go a little out of the boundaries of the law, and I am in cahoots with the masked vigilante all the time. The Internal Affairs officer called the department lazy, because Batman eventually solves all of our problems. I should've slapped the young man right then and there, but Commish was standing right there. I now set out to prove that member of the rat squad wrong. I want to solve a legitimate crime that has an impact on the city without the help of Bats, as it should be. Today may be my lucky break.
As I woke up, expecting today to be just as melancholy as it always is: overcastted, raining, trashy as ever, good ol' Gotham. All I could think about was to get a fresh batch of amazing donuts from the local Donut Shop. I myself am not the fit guy like a lot of the guys on the force. I have to admit I am a chubby, over weight man. But, whom am I trying to impress, ya know? All I want at the end of the day is a cigar, coffee, and the fact that I am working towards a better Gotham. It's why I joined; I don't want to see Gotham crash and burn. I may be rough around the edges and have a reputation but, in the end, I love the city.
But as I was saying, the day slowly began, just as any. Got my coat and hat on, and began to drive towards the donut shop, when dispatch abruptly reminded me that Gordon needed all detectives for some special meeting. I skipped out on the donuts and began the drive toward the department.
As I pass by the streets, I observe everything. The city is falling to ashes and it shall suffocate in its own filth. Unemployment is as bad as ever, corruption infects everything from the police to public officials. Thankfully the elections are this week for the new mayor. Yet, Gotham's got a few unworthy people running for mayor. For one, Salvatore Maroni. He is a huge mob boss of the whole Maroni Crime Family here in Gotham, and he is running for Mayor. Sadly, he is probably going to be the one to win, when we have honest men like Armand Krol and Councilman Rupert Thorne, owner of Thorne Industries, Wayne Enterprises' main adversary in the business. Sal Maroni just wants the position so he can gain all control over Gotham City. He and the Penguin already control everything in Gotham! Only to be opposed by Carmine Falcone, another huge mob boss in Gotham. As I have said, the City is run by corruption.
I pass by the Gotham City General Hospital, one of the best and busiest places in Gotham, even with the dreary rain. The Gotham City Police Department is in the heart of Gotham, right around City Hall. This is the better region of Gotham, cleaner, less of the homeless, less of the filth, less of everything that makes this city bad. But this area is a huge target for most of those glorified, "Super-Villains", doctors claim they are all "clinically insane" and they should be "treated". Pfft yeah, treated with a nice stay in the electric chair. They seem to come and go from Black Gate Penitentiary and Arkham Asylum; this city is going to ashes.
The one thing I have to say is: Gotham City has amazing buildings. I got to hand it to the Wayne family, without them, we'd be getting nowhere. But I have to say, Bruce Wayne, he doesn't know Gotham like I do. Yeah, the city's buildings may look pretty, but have a day living in the Narrows, or have a day on the force. He wouldn't last a second.
I finally reach the Gotham City Police Headquarters, nice place, especially since Gordon became Commissioner. We even got ourselves a "bat-signal" on our roof when we need an emergency meeting with the Bat.
"Where have you been?"
"Montoya, Montoya relax, just had to stop to get some donuts, ya know me!" I said evasively.
"Anything is better than that filthy habit of yours you call smoking…"
Montoya is a good person; she is always looking out for me.
"Well come on, Gordon already had to start the meeting." She said.
"Alright, alright. Commish will understand, he has a soft-spot for me."
We walked into the special meeting, which was already taking place.
"So, once again, Team A, which is supervised by Lieutenant Sawyer, will take detail here, at Gotham Bay which is where the parade shall end. Team B will patrol at the very beginning of the Parade, which shall be supervised by Detective Marcus Driver. And finally Team C, which is going to be supervised by Detective Harvey Bullock, will be following the Parade as it makes its way through the area. Speak of the devil, I see you finally cared to show up, Bullock."
"Well, ya know, always got to get my fill on the donuts at Jimmy's. Best in town."
"I see…well as I was saying, you will be in control of the whole route of the parade, we will already have crowd control for the boys in blue and have S.W.A.T. snipers at the ready all around the area. If anyone tries anything, we'll know. So at nine o' clock I expect all of you to be at their positions all calling in to report to me. Got it?"
"Yes sir." The detectives said in unison.
"You're all dismissed, except you Bullock."
"Watch out Harv, Gordon seems rather mad." Renee said with unease.
"I got it, I know all of Gordon's weaknesses." I gave her a sly wink, assuring her everything will be okay.
"So whatcha want, Commish?"
"I need you to give your best today. If anything happens, you know they'll pin it on the department. Bad press."
"Don't sweat it Commish. We got it covered, what, your beloved Batman cannot patrol with us?" I said sarcastically.
"I couldn't get in touch with him recently, but I know he's always watching." Gordon said reassuringly.
I put my arm on Gordon's shoulder, "I got it covered Commish, no more bad press. Time to clean up Gotham, trust me."
Gordon gave me a melancholy smile as he dismissed me. I met back up with Montoya.
"Was he hard on you?" She asked.
"Nah. I told ya not to worry, I know Gordon. He's a good, understanding man. He's just goin' through some rough times."
Recently, Commissioner Gordon has gone through a divorce, and had to deal with custody rights and such for his daughter, Barbara Gordon.
"Well where do you want to go, Bullock? We have time to spare, want to grab a bite to eat?"
"Don't mind if I do," I said, "but before that, I gotta speak with Driver."
Marcus Driver was one of the best detectives on the force. He is leading, daring, bold, and no doubt the closest man to becoming Commissioner here after Gordon.
"Hey, Driver. I got to say your recent investigation of that dog-breath Victor Zsasz was great."
"Thanks Bullock, those words coming from you mean a lot. But, credit is due to Batman, without him, I wouldn't have found his location."
Batman helping him in the investigation, just what I wanted to hear,
"Bats just seems to be everywhere at once, ya know?" I said sarcastically.
"Ha-ha, you're always hysterical Bullock."
I gave a smile, and then left him to rejoin with Montoya.
"Charming man…" Montoya said mockingly.
"Let's get outta here."
In the time we had to spare, Montoya and I decided to go to the local diner. Good food, yet terrible atmosphere. It looked as though street punks got to vandalize the whole perimeter. The baseball game between the Gotham Griffins and the Metropolis Meteors was on. Two rival teams playing a terrible game.
"Aww, come on! That was a joke!" A man yelled, as he intently watched the television.
We left the diner, I noticed the rain let up, and I had just run out of my cigars. So, Montoya reluctantly decided to drive me to the local tobacco store and let me buy my cigars.
"You are NOT smoking in my car…" She commanded.
"Fair enough."
We drove to the rendezvous; today was the annual Gotham City Election Week Parade. The elections were held on Friday of this week, the parade is normally held on a Monday, like today.
"Look at them all," I contemplated, "all waitin' to hear their false promises from corrupt officials…"
We exited the vehicle and met up with the rest of the G.C.P.D., we blew off time, chit-chatting away. Until Commissioner walked up…
"Alright team, you know where you're suppose to be. The parade begins its route in five minutes, starting with the band, the dancers, then the candidates on their floats. This is when you must be most alert. When they give their little speeches, you guys can relax, and not be so vigilant. We got S.W.A.T. ready to shoot on command all around the perimeter. Be ready."
Gordon was always good at giving commands, straight to the point, with feeling.
"You got it Commish." I said reassuringly.
Time passed, the parade is turning out to be a success. Once the floats make their ways half way, the candidates shall give their little speeches to try to steal the votes. I personally rarely vote unless I KNOW I don't want a man in office, example: Salvatore Maroni, anybody but this man. Expect me to be voting this Friday.
As I observe the crowd, I notice many political figures drowning themselves in booze, as well as many other important "high society" people in the crowd, enjoying themselves. Men like Bruce Wayne, who is funding the whole parade, actually makes a difference. He actually tries to help Gotham for the better, yet our political leaders spend their money on personal affairs, and getting bribes left and right. I digress...
Speech time has begun; it started with our current mayor, Armand Krol, who is running for his second term. Can't say he was our worst mayor, neither is he our best. Basically the past four years have had no change in his department. Next was Rupert Thorne, he has my vote. Actually trying to make changes to the City, he has the means and his main supporter was Wayne. Seems to be a worthy candidate. Then came Salvatore Maroni, please...I don't even want to hear what excuse he'll make. He started jabbering his mouth, boring me to death, when all of a sudden, nothing, no words, and no cheering, just deafening silence.
The screams started pouring in, people scattering, no control, all anarchy, and just pure chaos. Gordon and my fellow detectives started flooding in over dispatch. Just what this department needed, another huge situation. We all contained the crowd, got everything settled. Gordon had to improvise, so he went to the microphone and stated:
"Everyone please, settle down. Yes, there appears to be a situation. We just need your full cooperation; we need to ask a few of you questions. You all did just witness a murder after all, nothing we cannot handle."
Not Gordon's best speech, probably the worst. People started leaving, people were booing, people were even crying. I can imagine how they felt, but I cannot help to see all the children who came to this thing to have a good time, only to end up witnessing a murder. Ironic, isn't it? A parade, where everyone gathers to have a good time, only to witness a bad experience people will never forget.
We quickly contained the crime scene, and we had volunteer witnesses waiting out interrogations. The S.W.A.T. team, along with Gordon, was determinedly searching the area for the killer, as well as trying to contain the bewildered crowd.
"Looks like ol' Sal had this coming, even after running for mayor, the scumbag..." Marcus Driver concluded.
"Ha-ha, you got that right Driver!" I said.
"Everyone, stop." Gordon began, "This is no laughing matter, this is a murder scene, whether this be a kind old lady or Salvatore Maroni, we should treat it as such." He continued, "Bullock, Montoya, Driver; start interrogating these so called witnesses, because I don't know about you, but I was paying no attention at that moment."
"Yes sir."
Montoya, Driver, and I all began to interrogate the witnesses.
"One second he was talking, the next he just collapsed to the ground!" One witnessed stated.
The most common thing we all heard was that Salvatore Maroni was giving his speech, and then he was shot. But this raised many questions: Who? Why? The scary part is that who WOULDN'T want this man dead.
After the whole fiasco cleared up, forensics and C.S.I. took care of the crime scene as we all collected our thoughts back at the station.
"What happened out there?" Gordon questioned, "I told you all this had to be us at our best! Practically all of Gotham witnessed a murder, because we were slacking! The press is going to make this department look bad! And next thing ya know we'll have the government up in here, telling us what's what! We seriously messed this one up..."
"Look, Commish," I said, "this guy knew what he was doing. Did ya see the Vic's body? Clean shot straight above 'is eyes. That was a professional hit."
"Bullock is right." Montoya abruptly said, "I think this is just a simple case of a "Who did it" murder. But we have little evidence to work on."
I realized this was finally my chance to show Gotham City that its police force can actually solve a murder for itself.
"Gordon, put me and Montoya on the case. I promise you we'll have this thing solved by Election Day." I said.
"But Harvey, what evidence do we have? We have nothing to lead on!" Gordon stated.
"Did forensics take the bullet from the crime scene?" I questioned.
"If you're asking to see the bullet, go right ahead. You and Montoya are on the case. Do me a favor and make this department look good."
Right after those words, you'll never guess whom Gordon had a conversation with, yeah that's right, the Batman, right on our roof. Hope the Bat doesn't cut into my investigation.
I went to the Forensics Lab and obtained the bullet, Forensics quickly informed me they have never seen this type of bullet. It was a light, armor-piercing bullet, something that the pros seemed to use. But I know Gotham inside out; I know its black markets, its dirty little secrets, and I know exactly where this bullet had to come from.
Montoya and I headed for Arkham Asylum. Home of the loonies, the crazies, the nuts, or more commonly called "the mentally challenged", yeah, that's right. The reason I am here is because all of Gotham's so called "Super-Villains" live here. I am here specifically for Warren White, also known as "Great White Shark". He got the nickname after getting' a horrific case of frostbite, leaving him pale white, and causing his eyelids, lips, nose, and ears to fall off, making him resemble a shark. I always laugh at the story, but what defines him as a "villain" is he is the boss of many, if not all, gun rackets here in Gotham. I came here to get answers; if anyone bought this bullet for these illegal purposes, they got it from him.
As we approached the asylum, I never help but notice its dreariness, even with the overcast. It is the type of place that gives ya chills down your spine. What makes it even more daunting is its inmates are the craziest of the crazy. We entered through the building after passing the huge gate that kept the normal people away from the asylum grounds. Even the interiors were a dull, depressing, eye piercing white. The head of security, Aaron Cash, then greeted us.
"Harvey Bullock." He said with a smile.
"Mistah Aaron Cash." I said, while shaking his hand.
"What state of affairs allowed us to be graced with your presence? Oh, and not to mention the gorgeous Renee Montoya."
"Charmed..." Montoya said sarcastically.
"Well, back to business." I said, "We are here because of the recent situation with the murder of Salvatore Maroni."
"Sal Maroni has been snuffed?" Cash said shockingly.
"Yeah, right during his fair. Our only leads are the bullet, which we believe whom ever killed him bought his product from one of your inmates."
"Which one?" Cash asked.
"The Great White Shark." I answered.
"Oh that scumbag...Right this way."
Aaron Cash and a couple guards led me and Montoya through the dreary hallways, of which were very narrow. I never felt so close with the people I put in here...
"Here he is, have fun kiddies. Hey, Shark! You have a visitor, be nice."
"I'll try." He replied.
"Alrighty then. Good luck on the investigation Harvey. It'll be a tough one, I mean, who doesn't want Maroni dead?"
"Same thing I been askin' myself since the murder."
As Cash walked away, it was just Montoya, Warren, and me.
"So, Mr. White..." Montoya said before being interrupted.
"Please, call me Shark." He said with a grin.
"I'd prefer not to." Montoya continued, "So, as we all know, you are the biggest supplier of arms in Gotham City, even right now, sitting in your cell, you command many rackets."
"Yes, cannot lie to the law. Your point?"
"We want to know whom your most recent buyers of this product is." Montoya pulled out the custom bullet, allowing the Shark to see it. Man, do I love it when she leads the interrogations.
"Oh, sweetie. I promised I'd cooperate, so, I am not at liberty to say." White said as he laughed.
"Listen, Mr. White, help us with this investigation and I promise your stay here will be cut shorter."
"Is this a lie I smell?" He questioned.
"Scout's honor."
It's weird, I never seen Montoya promise an inmate a shorter serving period...
"Hmmmm, I am not one to rat out my fellow conmen, but, deal. But I personally could not tell you."
"There's always a catch..." I alleged.
"Look, just go see the man who I answer to, tell him to give you the documents on the recent buyers of that bullet. Tell him I sent you."
"And whom do you answer to...?" Montoya asked.
"None other than The Penguin himself." He answered.
After that talk, we knew exactly where to go. Oswald Cobblepot, or his street name "The Penguin", is a huge black-market kingpin and mob boss, the top of the top. He runs a nightclub, The Iceberg Lounge, which is home to many criminals and criminal activities. When you walk in the club, it looks like any other club; it has its fancy area, and then its dancing club area. But little does everyone know is that it has a V.I.P. room dedicated to criminals. Cobblepot is pretty easy to crack though, just threaten his business and he'll tell you tomorrow's lottery numbers.
As we headed toward the entrance of the club, we were stopped by what appeared to be bouncers.
"Name?"
"Bullock," I responded, "DETECTIVE Harvey Bullock, along with Detective Renee Montoya. We are here to question the owner of this here glorified club. So tell ya boss to get his keister out of there, and come here before we pin him on every crime he committed and burn his corrupt lil' nightclub. Kapeesh?"
It appeared as I actually intimated the bouncer, that's a first. Montoya also seemed impressed with my little speech.
"Excuse us for a moment." The bouncer stated.
We stood there waiting for a while until finally a stout, short, fat man came towards us, chewing on what seemed to be a cigarette holder. It appeared to be Penguin himself.
"Waugh, wah, wah. What do we 'ave 'ere? A couple of the good, honest G.C.P.D. detectives!" The Penguin continued, "What is it I can do fo' ya t'day?"
Before I could say anything, Renee took the lead in yet another interrogation. I love this, less work for me, more time to recollect thoughts and light a cigar.
"Mr. Cobblepot, we are here to question you on the recent murder of Salvatore Maroni."
"You 'ave to interrogate me? Are you insinuating I killed the poor soul?"
"No, but you did sell the bullet used to kill Maroni," Montoya continued, "don't play dumb with us Mr. Cobblepot. We all know you are the kingpin of the black-market in Gotham. Mr. Warren White even answers to you, whom is the leading gun racket leader. He instructed us that you contain records of the people you sell things to."
"Oh, so Shark-y sold me out, eh?" Penguin questioned.
"No, that is not what happened Mr. Cobblepot..."
Before Renee could say another word I stepped in.
"Look Penguin, I ain't got time for this. I have to solve this investigation fast. So, do me a favor and give us those records. If you continue to try and not to answer our questions, we will burn you and your little black-market corporation to the ground, ya hear me?"
Penguin took a big gulp, "Fine. If I give you the records you have to promise me you won't dig around in my business. After all, I mean no harm to the city; I am just a businessman! Also, if ya get a chance, send my condolences to the Maroni family, we were business partners."
"Whatever you say, Mr. Cobblepot." Responded Montoya.
Renee has been confusing me; normally she never accepts these offers. First Great White Shark and now Penguin, I got to ask her.
As we were walking into The Penguin's office of the Iceberg Lounge, I notice all the people enjoying themselves. Little do they know of the man running this place is a complete corrupt psychopath "business man".
"Hey Montoya..." I called out.
"Yeah Harv?"
I whispered, "Were you serious about givin' Shark shorter period time and givin' the Penguin immunity from investigation?"
"Of course not. You know me, Bullock."
There's my Renee.
I smiled and said, "I thought so."
Penguin then gave us the records to the last few people to buy the specific bullet. I read off a few names, all of which were now suspects: 'P. Pauling, Quantity: 1 Ammo Box, Price: $150; A. Falcone, Quantity: 2 Ammo Boxes, Price: $300; J. Vitti, Quantity: 1 Ammo Box, Price: $150.'
It all started to make sense. Both Alberto Falcone AND Johnny Vitti recently bought this type of ammo. Both of which are related and associated to Carmine Falcone, Salvatore Maroni's main rival. Falcone was always out to get Maroni; the rival mob bosses were always fighting over power, land, and businesses. But that P. Pauling name sounds vaguely familiar.
It has to be Falcone, but first I had to make sure. Montoya and I both agreed we needed a warrant to search his mansion. Just in case there is any harder evidence to prosecute with. I am just working on a hunch right now; as I still think that the murderer being the Falcone family is a little too obvious.
We decided to go back to the department to check back in with Gordon and inform him on our progress, as well as obtain that warrant we need to inspect through Falcone's mansion.
As we headed back to the car, it began to rain again. Ah, do I miss the familiar sound of the lovely rain that we always get in Gotham. As winter approaches, the rain shall soon turn into snow, which is just as familiar. If it isn't raining in Gotham, then it's snowing.
We embarked on our voyage to the station. I still couldn't help but feel Falcone isn't our killer. It is just too obvious...possibly that is what our real killer wants us to think. Still, Falcone is the lead we got, so we have to check it out.
After a long traffic filled ride, we finally made it back to the department. Montoya and I noticed two unfamiliar cars parked right in front of the doors, god only knows what this is...
I approached the front entrance as I overheard a commotion inside.
"Gordon I KNOW it is that dirt bag Falcone! He's always out to get our family, and now my father, MY FATHER, is dead because of him! And here is the evidence to prove it! Charge the man; kill him! Better yet, hand him over to me and my brother, we'll show him a real lesson in pain."
I recognize that irritating voice anywhere, it is the giddy son of Salvatore Maroni, Pino Maroni. His voice is like nails on a chalkboard for me. He and his twin brother, Umberto Maroni, were next in line for power in the Maroni crime business, since their grandfather is dying of cancer.
"Look Mr. Maroni," Gordon continued, "we are doing our best to figure out who the murderer was. We understand you are infuriated. We have two of our best detectives on the case right now."
Good job Commish, he handled that in a very delicate manner.
"There is no longer need to investigate, I got the evidence RIGHT HERE." Exclaimed Pino.
Before this fiasco could continue on any further, I decided to intervene.
"Long time no see Pino."
"Oh, look what the cat dragged in, Harvey Bullock, are you one of the so called "best detectives" on my father's murder?" Insinuated Pino.
"Indeed I am. Now, I heard your lil' argument with Commish here, you really have no right to shout at the man. He is worth more to society than you ever will."
"You better shut your trap, Bullock. I expect you know how powerful I am. I could buy you, sell you, and then buy you again!"
"Pfft. Who would want to buy me?"
Both Gordon and Montoya smirked at my remark.
"True." Pino quickly responded.
"Now shut your trap, dog-breath, ya borin' us to death. Now let me see your so called "evidence" to persecute Carmine Falcone."
Pino then handed me an envelope.
'"Within the envelope you will find what was sent to our home. The reason I say it's the scumbag Falcone is because it is written on the Shady Lady Casino's papers!" Pino said.
The Shady Lady Casino was the one of the many fronts and businesses of the Falcone family. As I've said, they are always fighting over territory like five-year-old children over toys.
The contents of the envelope were two sheets; one was the map of Gotham City, the parade route for the fair that was today was traced in blue. And there was a red circle exactly where Sal Maroni was shot. The other sheet had the words "Be Warned" written in red.
"And when did ya receive this letter?" I asked.
"It came in two days ago, I thought it was just another note til I sorted through all our letters today." Pino explained.
"So ya didn't care to check yer mail until today?" I insinuated.
"Well... yes..."
All the signs were pointing to Carmine Falcone as the man behind the murder; yet I still feel it couldn't be THAT obvious. There has to be more to this.
"Well thank ya for the evidence, now get out of my department before we find a reason to arrest you, kapeesh?"
"Pfft. Wait, what? You're not going to go arrest Falcone right now?" Pino asked.
"We don't have enough evidence to persecute him, Mr. Maroni. Now please leave us so we can further investigate in this murder." Renee explained.
"Your department sickens me." Pino said as he and his men walked to their vehicles.
"See what I have to deal with now?" Gordon asked. "Now I got the mob breathing down our necks."
"Commish, look, Pino may be right." I explained, "We have the records of the last few people to buy the bullet used to kill Maroni, and now with this letter all things are leading to Falcone!"
"It seems as though it is. But, don't you think it is a bit too obvious?" Gordon asked.
"We've been saying the same thing." Renee said, "But, it is our only lead, we have to follow it."
"I understand." Gordon continued, "The people of Gotham want me to give a press conference on the situation, you all know how much I hate those. So here, take the warrant and solve this thing as quickly as possible."
"Speakin' of press conferences..." I said as Gordon handed me the warrant, "shouldn't the mayor candidates be givin' their condolences or somethin'? I mean in the end, they still are suspects."
"If you're really that interested, I'll inform you on what the candidates say." Gordon said sarcastically.
"Jus' tell me what my boy Rupert Thorne says!" I said with excitement.
"You got it." Gordon said with a smile.
Now I got an investigation to complete, we may not have hard evidence, and the forensic report has yet to finalize, but we have to work on this lead.
The Falcone Family is constantly moving, leaving Gotham, coming back to Gotham, gaining new territory, etc. So we may have a hard time spottin' the man, so we decide to track down the one man in town who would know where he is.
We approach the local pawnshop, specifically "Vitti's Pawn" owned by Johnny Vitti, son of Carla Vitti, and nephew of our perpetrator, Carmine Falcone. He is a true load, lazy, alcoholic man who is always looking for a quick buck. He was also one of the names on the list of recent buyers from the Penguin's ammo list. We drove into a parking space, in a vacant parking lot.
"Hey Montoya, I think you should sit this one out, it'll only take me a minute." I explained.
"You sure Harv? Normally I lead these things..."
"Nah, I got it." I answered.
I walked straight in and noticed the fat slob sitting at the front desk, snoring.
I start whaling on the bell on his desktop, trying to gain his attention.
"Excuse me mister Vitti, I am interested in pawnin' something!" I said with a mocking expression.
He awoke from his trans state, "Huh, oh, it's you Bullock. I mean DETECTIVE Bullock!"
Him and me have a history.
"Don't play dumb with me, I know you're lookin' for something else." He said with a tone.
"Alright, alright. You caught me. Well, I don't know if you heard but Salvatore Maroni was just killed. Professional job."
"Whoa, wait, what? Maroni, the Salvatore Maroni, is dead?" He questioned.
"Don't play dumb with me Vitti, we know you had somethin' to do with it. You are one of the recent buyers of the bullet used to kill 'im!"
I slammed the bullet casing and the buyer's list on the desk.
"Bullock, you got to believe me. I have no idea what you are talking about! I didn't buy anything from the Penguin! You KNOW me, I am a fat lazy slob, you think I actually have time for that?"
"We have reason to believe your uncle, Carmine Falcone, is the man who hired the assassin."
"Uncle Carmine? He has been out of Gotham for the past four, five months. There is no way he or any of his family, you know besides me and mom, has bought those bullets! But I didn't!"
"Wait, the Falcone Family has been out of town?" I questioned.
"Yeah, out on business or somethin'."
My main lead vanished just like that. That doesn't make any of them innocent, but it makes it less probable that the Falcone family murdered Maroni; I mean, why go to such lengths to kill your long time adversary? Isn't there honor amongst thieves? Vitti is an honest man, I believe him. But this brings me back to the conclusion that the actual murderer was just trying to throw me off...
"I believe ya Vitti, calm down. You're makin' me sweat from all the tension in the air."
I walked out of the shop, and entered the car.
"It ain't the Falcone's." I said with grief.
"Wait, what?" Renee continued, "If it isn't them, then who? We have NO LEADS."
"I hate to break it to ya Montoya, but it's true, the Falcone family has an alibi, they been out of town for the past four months, and you have to think, why would they go to such lengths to murder Maroni? I mean they wouldn't have made it so obvious it was them. Someone is framing them."
"You've got a point, Bullock."
Montoya's phone began to ring, abruptly ending our conversation.
"It's Gordon." She declared.
She began speaking into the cellular, man the future is now. With all these fancy little machines, making us look like mindless drones.
Renee put her hand over the phone, "It's for you, Harv. He has word on the press conferences. And I'll leave it up to you to inform him on our situation."
I sighed as she handed me the phone, the press conference was the least of my worries.
"Yeah Commish?"
"Yeah, Harvey, the Thorne press conference just came on, he was very evasive of all the questions. Looks like your boy was really nervous, he talked for a few minutes, stating I should be the one out there, until he let his lawyer, I believe, step in and talk, fella named Peter Pauling. But I have to say, Mayor Krol handled the conference pretty easily..."
It hit me, the answer to the mystery. It came to me like rushing, cold water on a summer day. Peter Pauling, the name sounded so familiar, until I realized he was one of the names on the buyer's list that Penguin gave to me.
I started sifting through the contents of my coat pocket looking for the buyer's list. Montoya looked confused, as I abruptly handed her the phone, while Gordon continued blabbering on. I found the list, and looked for the recognizable name, and there it was: P. Pauling.
I found the name to what I believe was the answer to our mystery.
"Montoya, Montoya." I said with excitement, "Tell Gordon we'll have to call 'im back. Right now!"
Montoya did just that, as loyal and understanding as she was. She asked no questions as to why.
"Harvey, you look rather excited and ready to go, what happened?"
"Montoya, I found the answer to our little mystery." I continued, "Remember how Gordon said Thorne was evasive and a bit unresponsive and nervous at the press conference?"
"What about it?" Renee asked.
"Well, he said he made his lawyer or whatever answer the rest of the questions for him, and his name was Peter Pauling. P. Pauling, one of the names on the buyer's list!"
"It is all starting to make sense!" Montoya exclaimed. "But that isn't enough to charge the man, I mean, how do we know it was him? Or was it Thorne? Why would Thorne of all people want Maroni dead?"
"I don't know the answers to your questions. But we're about to find out."
"How?" Montoya questioned.
Before I could even answer her question, I sped to the nearest phone booth. Once I got to it, I scrolled through the Yellow Pages looking for Peter Pauling's Law Firm location. Got it, Pauling Law, on 1554 Grand Avenue.
I was so cheerful; I am finally solving a big case, in under a day, without the help of the Bat. Commish will be pleased, and Internal Affairs will change their views on the department. All we have to do is get Pauling to confess.
"Bullock, where are we going? You are being so distant right now!" Montoya insinuated.
"We are goin' to Pauling's Law Firm to bust him and bring 'im in for questioning. We'll get the maggot to crack."
We finally reached the location, and in a rather dramatic fashion, I busted through the front doors with badge in hand.
"This is Detective Harvey Bullock and Detective Renee Montoya, we are lookin' for Peter Pauling!"
To my surprise, it was a lonesome, quiet building with three or more people.
"Mr. Pauling is in his office, in a crucial meeting with one of his partners, is there a problem officer? Oh, pardon me, my name is Gary Campbell, Mr. Pauling's secretary."
He was a scrawny looking fellow, short too. For some reason, just the clean-cut look of him made me sick.
"We need to bring Mr. Pauling down to the station for suspicion of MURDER." Put emphasis on the murder to chill his bones; I love my job.
"Oh Lord, murder?" He said shockingly, " Mr. Pauling is a busy and important man, a greatly respected member of Gotham City. A trusted lawyer for God's sake! He would never commit a murder! Take my word!"
You could tell he was all shook up, just by the expression in his face. It seems as though he is either keeping something from us or he genuinely doesn't know what's what. But, in the end, isn't that always the question?
Before I could continue, once again Montoya took the lead.
"Look, Mr. Campbell, we have reason to believe that he indeed is somehow involved in a murder." She begins, "Does that mean he is the said murderer? No. So, do us all a favor and calm down. Now, please let us continue our investigation."
Campbell looked offended; I love it. Montoya is a great detective; I'll always give her that.
"Do excuse me." Campbell said with contempt, as he stepped back to his desk.
We proceeded towards stairs; each and every step I made caused an eerie creek in the real wood floors.
Once we reached the door, I could finally do the dramatic entrance to arrest the corrupt scumbag. I slammed the door open and said,
"Peter Pauling, you're under arrest for suspicion of murder!"
I got no response, rather a disturbing image. Peter Pauling has been murdered. He was just sitting in his desk, leaned to the side, bullet through the side of his lifeless body, with blood dripping onto the ground. Our only lead was dead, but this only raises my suspicions even more.
The thick wooden door hit the wall behind it, giving me a reality check.
"Montoya, call this in. We got another murdered in the same day. All having to do with the same thing, this just couldn't be a coincidence."
As I was talking, Montoya was already ahead of me as she was calling in dispatch. Just as she was doing that, something hit me.
I ran down the stairs to rejoin Campbell, "Campbell, who did ya say was in a meetin' with him?" I asked.
He gave me a disgusted look and said, "Let me check his schedule book, oh wait, that's right, he's with none other then Rupert Thorne, why do you ask?"
"I think ya should check for yourself..."
He walked past me, giving me a revolting look; I could tell I made an enemy just by being a cop. As he walked up those stairs, I braced myself to hear him scream, and he did just that. I could hear Montoya reassure him that we already have it covered.
"Mr. Pauling is dead!" He said with horror in his voice.
"Look, I need ya to calm down and help us. You are the one and only person who can help us solve this murder, you said he was with Rupert Throne, right?"
"Y-Yes. He was." He said, still obviously shocked.
"Yet you and I didn't see 'im come down those stairs, why is that, eh?" I tried to be gentle on him, as I already was hard.
He had a look of shock in his eyes after I said that.
"That's true Detective, so that means it had to be Rupert Thorne! B-but how...Councilman Thorne would never do such a thing, I knew the man personally! He was a real innovator!"
"I thought so too..." I said understandingly, "He had my vote in the upcomin' elections as well."
I was really confused; I hate to see when good men turn bad. I quickly ran back up the stairs to further examine the crime scene before the rest of the team comes.
There appeared to be no signs of struggle, almost seems as though he committed suicide. I think that is what Thorne made it to look like, as the gun, bullets, and a glass of whisky.
"Are you seein' what I am seein' Montoya? Looks like our murderer wanted us to think it was a suicide."
"You're right! And look at those bullets!" Montoya stated.
The bullets appeared to be the same bullet that was used to kill Maroni, so I quickly sifted through my coat pocket for the bullet. Once I took it out, it was a complete match.
"Thorne had to be our man." I inferred.
"But, why do you think it was Thorne?" She questioned.
"Because that Campbell guy told me he was just up here with 'im."
"Oh God..." she said with astonishment.
I heard the sirens nearing our position, I just felt cheated when it all started pointing to Thorne. This still does not answer why Peter Pauling's name was on the buyer's list, I need to get a hold of that corrupt, scumbag Rupert Thorne. Just as ya think you know someone or something, it shows you something about it that you never knew it could do.
Gordon and the boys in blue began filling up around the perimeter as well as the building.
"What happened here?" Gordon questioned, "Bullock do not tell me you did this to him!"
I was shocked he would even insinuate that, yet I remembered he was tense and stressed.
"Commish! I did no so such thing to 'im! He was dead as can be by the time me an' Montoya got here!"
"Why are you even at the Pauling Law Firm? What are you not telling me?"
Right then and there I forgot Commish wasn't in the loop like me and Montoya was, so I told him about the past couple of hours. I explained how the Falcone Family has been out of town and how Peter Pauling's name was on the buyer's list. I also informed him on my recent knowledge that it had to be Rupert Thorne.
"Wait, wait, wait." Gordon said, stopping me from continuing to talk, "Now here is where you lost me, Thorne couldn't be the gunman who killed Sal Maroni, we got the crime scene and forensics report telling us the bullet had to be shot form over a hundred meters away. A HUNDRED METERS. I know for sure Thorne isn't that good with a gun."
I wasn't the best at measurement and math, but 100 meters is a very, VERY long way away. He was right how the assassin couldn't be Thorne; he of course had to hire someone. Someone good. But the question now isn't who it is now, because Lord knows where he is, and between you and me, I wouldn't want to get on the bad side of a professional assassin.
"Commish, you're right. Thorne wasn't the assassin, but that doesn't matter anymore, because you and I both know we are not going to be able to catch that man any time soon, even if we got his name. The fact of the matter is we need to locate Rupert Thorne, A.S.A.P.!"
"You're right. Montoya!" Gordon called out.
"Yes Commissioner?"
"You and Bullock go locate Thorne's whereabouts, now. Take Driver, Corrigan, or Chandler, any of them. Lieutenant Sawyer and me will take care of this crime scene. Just bring Thorne in before he flees, I'll but an A.P.B. on him, he cannot hide for long."
"Alrighty then," I began, "Montoya let's go. Commish, let us two finish what we started, we got it covered."
"You got it, we'll send out the A.P.B. and a television bulletin. Now, go along!"
Montoya and I raced out of the building; I nearly knocked down a fellow cop. In these small moments, I was both tense and excited. I was tense due to the fact I was on the look out for a criminal whom I once trusted with the position of mayor; and excited because of the rush of this investigation. Normally, when we get a huge case where a super-villain is holding up a bank, has a murder spree, poisoning our sewers, or just disturbing our "peace" in Gotham City, we check it out, and then the Bat will solve the crime and save the day. We, as the Gotham police force, are used to stuff like this. But as I've said, I like Batman, him and me are always at odds, but we share a common trust and respect. But I miss the days where solving murders or mysteries were up to the department and me. I finally get my chance.
Montoya and I first must decide where our perp. would hide out.
"Montoya, where would a multi-millionaire, councilman, mayor candidate hide out in?"
"Why not ask him for yourself?" Montoya responded with a smile.
I gave a slight laugh, and began speaking "I think we should go to the most obvious place he could be."
"And where would that be?" Montoya asked.
"Thorne Enterprises."
Thorne Enterprises is Rupert Thorne's million-dollar corporation that deals in Technology, Industry, Charity, and Agriculture. Thorne's only problem in the industry is that he is against the billion-dollar corporation by the name of Wayne Industries. Though, all around Wayne Enterprises is doing more for the city, now that I know Thorne is crooked and murderous, for all I know he uses all Thorne Enterprises' funds for personal affairs.
Montoya and I begin driving toward the busiest area of Gotham, and its most industrial. This is basically down town Gotham, where we have all of our big businesses and political offices. Wayne Enterprises is right smack in the middle, as the Wayne family help craft Gotham from the beginning. Whereas Thorne Enterprises is on the outskirts of this busy district, so we had to make our way through the traffic filled, noisy, dirty streets all the way to Thorne's fortress of a building.
Once we finally made our way through the battlefield of traffic, and a bit of walking through the crowded streets, which I am not cut out for, we made it to Thorne Enterprises. When you stand right underneath Thorne's building, it is like looking under the Empire State Building, but add a quarter more floors. It is HUGE. My guess is Thorne is waiting in his office, which is probably on the top floor. This is going to be a long elevator ride...or worse, a torturous stair walk...
But, I didn't have time to observe my surroundings or contemplate over the long stroll to his office, all that mattered now was finding Thorne, and doing it as discretely as possible. We walked through the revolving door and a front deskman greeted us.
"Welcome to Thorne Enterprises, where innovators prosper."
"Yeah, yeah." I began, "Where is the owner to this place's main office?"
"Here at Thorne Enterprises, we are not at liberty to say! Who would like to know?"
"G.C.P.D. Detective Harvey Bullock and Detective Renee Montoya; we are here to arrest Thorne for murder, we ain't got time to explain!" I said without delay.
The clerk looked skeptical, and he was about to pull out a radio, probably to call in a few security guards and/or other workers, so Montoya stepped in to quickly stop him from causing a scene.
"We have a warrant to search his office, and we need to make it quick." Montoya said as she pulled out the warrant we needed to search the Falcone house, I love it when she bluffs. "We need to quickly apprehend him, he already murdered two people. We need you to help us, and to do so, we cannot cause a scene."
He was deep in thought, and then said, "His main office is on the fortieth floor, but he ran into the building like five minutes ago. He looked all shook up; my bet is he went to his office. I am very worried about him, I just hope he wasn't stupid enough to commit a murder..."
"You saw Thorne run in today?" Montoya questioned.
"As far as I know," He continued, "yet he still may or may not be here. He could be in his Council office, for all I know he could be out of the City! All I have to say is: Good luck on your investigation."
I pulled Montoya to the side to talk.
"Listen, I know for sure he is here. He'll hide away in this fortress that he knows in and out. I got a plan, you check his main office, and I'll go check out another area."
"Which is?" Montoya questioned.
"Let's just say I got an idea."
"Gotcha." Renee replied as she started running toward one of the many elevators.
I told her I was going to another area of the building, yet I decided to go to the roof. I have reason to believe that this high society scumbag will take the wimp's way out, and wait on the roof for attention. I knew exactly where to go.
I went inside the surprisingly roomy elevator, and I knew for sure I had no time for this elevator to stop for every floor. So I used an old police secret that not many people know. If ya click the ideal floor of choice, but in my case it is the roof, and if ya click the "close door" button, it will send ya straight to the destination you wanted. It's an old police method we used whenever we needed to quickly reach a floor in tall building, such as this one. So, I am for sure using this method right now.
This elevator ride feels like I am taking a journey to the heavens. I may be only feeling this way because I am extremely tense and ready to catch this maggot Thorne, or just because it is a lengthy elevator ride. But I digress; once I passed all 125 floors, I made my way into the roof.
The elevator doors slowly opened; it felt longer than the entire ride, probably due to my anxiousness to see what's beyond them. But besides my feelings, you are probably wondering why I have such a hunch he is up here. My theory is this big corporate councilman will be up here, where the media will watch him and the police cannot touch him. He will end his life up here. Once the doors opened the widest it could, I stepped out and saw the one man I have been looking for all day: Rupert Thorne.
Rupert Thorne was just standing there, as if he was waiting for someone to greet him. He was standing near the edge, obviously contemplating over the idea of jumping.
"Thorne!" I shouted, gaining his attention. "This is Detective Harvey Bullock; we know you murdered Peter Pauling and we have reason to believe you had hired the man who killed Salvatore Maroni. Do I seriously have to proclaim to you the Miranda rights?" I got no answer, "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do may be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to consult an attorney-" Before I could finish I was abruptly stopped by Thorne.
"I did it." He said with a soft, mournful voice.
"You did what Thorne?"
"I killed Pauling, that's obvious."
This would have been the perfect time for a recorder; the only way I would get him to talk again is if I could save him from jumping. With every word he made, I slowly stepped an inch forward.
"So what about Maroni? We know it is you, all of our evidence points to YOU." I put emphasis on the "you"; trying to scare him into thinking we honestly have hard evidence against him. My words didn't seem to shake him so much as to start spitting it all out. "Just spill it Thorne; you'll help yourself by telling us the truth." I kept the conversation going; so I could discretly catch up to him. "They say tellin' the truth is good for the soul!"
"Salvatore Maroni was killed on my watch," Thorne began, "I did hire the assassin to kill him. But I cannot help you find the gunman, he is probably long gone."
"Look, Thorne, now that ya confessed just come with me and we can handle this inside the department. We'll be sure you get less servin' time since ya comin' in without a big fight or mess. Just come with me!"
He was contemplating over it; soon he would have no choice as I made it closer and closer to him. Now, I could almost touch him.
"No." Thorne stated, "You and I both know Maroni was a scumbag. I am an honest respectable man! I came from nothing, and look at me! Maroni had many enemies, can't you pigs just turn the other way for once?"
I felt hurt and betrayed by this man even though I hadn't personally known him. I would've voted for this once honorable man.
"No, you don't seem to understand Thorne. That's not how an honorable police department works. We don't look the other way in times when a felony has been committed."
"I guess you're right…a once honorable man has now lost everything that mattered to him: Honor."
He looked as if he was full of contempt and sorrow, as if he realized the wrongs he has committed.
"I just want ya to know, you had my vote." I said while trying to reassure him he was a good man at heart.
Thorne was getting closer and closer to the edge. It was like a representation of how he was feeling. As if he was on the brink of destruction.
"Funny part is," He began, "if Batman stops crime, the crowd loves him. When a councilman gets rid of scum like Maroni, I'll probably get life in prison if not worse."
"I know what ya mean, but the difference is that the Bat doesn't allow himself to go so low and murder. If he did, he would be just as bas those he sworn he would fight."
I contemplated over what I had just said. Maybe the Batman is what this city needs? Or possibly he is what causes the new scum to breed, like most super-villains, or even small time crooks, such as Thorne.
"Oh, that's where you're wrong..." Thorne stated as he pulled out a pistol, 9mm, as it seems.
"We all got a little monster in us just waiting to get out."
Before I could even fathom what was going on; my instincts set in as I threw myself against Thorne, tackling him.
Within these moments, I save my own skin. Wish I could say the same about Thorne, whom was currently hanging on for dear life over the edge of his colossal building. I find moments like these ironic, how Rupert Thorne is holding on for his life on one of the tallest buildings in the world, that he made from nothing.
"H-Help me! I don't want to die! Please, I'll-I'll confess!" Thorne exclaimed.
Now I have a choice, ya see. I can either let him plummet to the filthy floors below, or save his pathetic life. I would go against my own morals to let the man go.
"Come 'ere." I said as I pulled up the rather heavy councilman.
I was panting as I finally pulled up the fat, grey-haired politician. With my what felt like my last breath, I barely muttered out, "Y-You're under arrest." And I angrily pulled out a pair of cuffs and constrained him.
I did it; I solved it. I solved the mystery I have worked so hard toward, in under a day. I feel greatly accomplished, I feel as though I won the gold medal in one of them Olympic games. All of this without the help of the Batman.
I now felt lost, like I didn't know what to do next. But then I had a reality check and remembered where I was and what I was doing. So, I quickly called Montoya, telling her I got Thorne; and to meet me up on the roof. I could tell in her voice she was excited, but she also questioned what I was doing on the roof with him; I informed her that it was a long story. Without hesitation, I then contacted Gordon and the department, informing them of my situation and how they should send a couple cruisers over. Gordon was also happy about the news. I bet he was surprised how Montoya and I could quickly and efficiently rap up a political murder mystery.
As the cruisers came, so did the reporters. Man, they are annoying. When I think of the press, I think of fleas on the dog, and the police are the dogs. Once these fleas sniff out a good story, especially something as huge as this, they have to get on it, and pitch questions at us. People wonder why we set up crime scene tape...I can see it now, "Gotham's Political Scandal" or "Councilman Kills Mob Boss". Knowing the press, they will somehow mention the Batman into this. It won't bother me, much. All I wanted was to get out of this reporter infested crime scene. So, Gordon allowed Montoya and me to discreetly escape from the site, as he would handle the press.
Once back at the department, we got warm greetings from familiar faces; all of them congratulating us on our recent investigation. Though I didn't show it physically, it made me feel good. I've got to keep up the reputation and stern look, ya know?
Time passed, I was able to recollect my thoughts at the department over a couple cigars and a few coffees, Irish coffees, that is. I have never fully confronted my slight alcohol problem, I ain't a heavy drinker, but then again I drink more than the average person. But I am not an alcoholic!
I sat there with a big cocky smile on my face as I watched the news report on the recent investigation, and Batman was even stated once. Just as I was enjoying it, Gordon told me to meet him up on the roof of the building. It felt good to have the cold winds slap me in the face, almost causing my hat to blow off. I love these cold winter nights here in Gotham.
"Yeah, Commish, need me for anything?" I asked while he was standing still on the roof.
"It's not what I want I want, it's what he wants." He said as he stepped to the side, revealing a tall, horned man. It took me less than a second to realize that it was the Bat himself.
"Oh no, no, no!" I shouted, "I ain't got time to hear what you got to say!"
"Fair enough." Batman said sternly, "All I have to say is: Good Job. There are many times that lose faith in some of the officers here, but I know you better than most here, Bullock. Sometimes, I just underestimate you."
Before I could even respond, the Bat vanished, leaving behind Gordon, me, and the lit bat signal on the roof.
"Batman isn't your enemy, Harvey." Gordon said, as if he was trying to reassure me. "You should realize that. But, seriously, great job today Bullock. You did the department a great favor; I cannot thank you enough. Especially how quick and efficient you and Montoya were in solving this".
I was thankful over Gordon's kind words. I don't hear positive words coming from the Commissioner everyday.
"It's my job Commish, and I couldn't have done it without ya."
Gordon smiled, another thing you don't see everyday, "Go home Bullock, you look disgusting." He said with a wink.
"Tired, too." I said sarcastically.
Gordon and I walked back into the department, where Detective Driver greeted me; he too told me I did a good job. To which I humbly replied I was only doing my job.
I finally caught back up with Montoya, who was obviously happy over the events that happened today.
"Hey Montoya, can ya drive me back to my apartment? I am exhausted, slightly buzzed, and I just honestly don't feel like drivin' my old car."
"You mean you want me to drive you to that pigsty motel you call home? Gladly."
The two of us strolled to her car and began the quick ride to my apartment. We had a playful argument over what will now happen to the elections. Tonight was one of my better nights; a day that makes me feel like there is a better tomorrow. Wishful thinking.
We pulled up to my apartment complex and I exited the vehicle feeling as though my only good day was slowly coming to an end.
"Stay out of trouble, Detective Bullock" Montoya said teasingly.
"I'll try." I responded while we both gave each other a reassuring smile.
Just as I thought the day couldn't get better, the once familiar rain that let up earlier is now snow. I ran back to my apartment, which comforted me with the familiar smells of tobacco and warmth of the atmosphere. I lit a cigar and thought of the day as a whole.
I had an epiphany today that went against my own judgment. Normally, I don't trust anyone, because they always show you a side to them that you never seen before. People can change over night. I trusted Rupert Thorne with the keys to Gotham City; he was my vote for the election. I believed in Thorne, until today, where we saw the slow destruction of the man. Yeah, you can say that there are still some unanswered questions, but the scared scumbag will come clean just for a shorter stay, trust me.
A good man once told me told me that you either die a hero, or live long enough to see yourself become the villain. These are true words of wisdom. This reinforces my idea that you never truly know someone, ever. Just like with the city that I inhabit today, glorious old Gotham City. The city will always surprise ya. Once ya feel comfortable and trusting of the city, right when you think you got everything figured out, the city would introduce a whole new horrifying aspect that you thought you would never see. The experience will vary for everyone's stay at Gotham City. As I've said, you don't know Gotham, Gotham knows you.