Gotham was a mess. But then again, when had it ever not been one massive disaster on top of another?

In the past year the city had been riddled with one maniac after another. Ravaged by turf wars between bosses and there'd even been a few more Joker related nightmares than anyone was willing to admit. It was hardly unusual for Gotham to be experiencing these horrors. But the sheer volume and frequency was beginning to have people concerned. Even the most hardened of Gotham's citizens had started to stir as the uneasiness grew more potent with every day.

They were a city waiting for the final shoe to drop.

The military almost looked like an improvement on being a GCPD cop. But there were just some luxuries that couldn't be afforded or desired once tarnished. So here he was.

Ward sighed, the sound grating on his lungs even as he took another drag from his cigarette. Should have stopped years ago, shouldn't have ever started din the first place but not too many people grew old in Gotham. If cancer got him it would be a far gentler death than most others in the city.

Besides, he needed this one.

"Well, get to it." Ward ground out, fingers pinching the cigarette in his hand harshly. "Am I going home disappointed or not?"

The disinterest in his voice was nothing more than a thin veil of contempt to cover a larger underlying concern. He needed money, living in Gotham was not cheap and the Daun family had never been from particularly wealthy pastures. They belonged to the other side of Gotham.

The one not holding banquets and playing around like royalty. The ones that stuck to the shadows and mingled closer to criminals in the slums than they would gods like Bruce Wayne. Gotham was inherently a rich man's city, they were just the degenerates that worked under them.

They were the human filth and fodder of Gotham City.

And god did this human trash need this job.

If Ward's rudeness put off the office standing in front of him, he hardly let it show. Wouldn't have mattered if Cash had, Ward was too busy making and effort not to stare at the man's metal hand. Hand was putting it generously, the thing was a hook and Ward vaguely wondered how easily it could be used to slit a human throat.

Better yet, how useful it might have been against a crocodile. In all likelihood, Cash had also considered this.

"Mr. Daun." Officer Cash began, tone tinged with impatience. Ward would have been more concerned had the officer not always sounded like that. Even when his mood was a considerably good one, he had that same tone.

"Your application to work at GCPD is shaky at best. You pass all the tests with flying colors, and you know your way around the city. However your position is a insecure one." Ward bit down a sigh. Here it comes, the usual nail in the coffin. "Having been dishonorably discharged."

All at once a familiar swell of rage bubbled up inside of Ward. The urge to defend himself had angry comments on the tip of his tongue, so he bit down to choke the words before they could get free.

He knew better, no matter what he argued it was pointless – he had been dishonorably discharged. His name tarnished and no matter how much he protested the truth of the allegations – the decision had been made. He lived with it now.

Once the initial surge of indignation had settled back down to a low burn in his stomach, Ward gave a stiff nod. He was well aware of his own position. Letting his resentment get the better of him wouldn't help his case.

"Now in Gotham we take whatever we can manage." Cash continued, exhaustion heavy in his tone. "We're always understaffed, there aren't nearly enough good cops left in this city as it is. Despite the nature of your discharge we were willing to at least consider your application."

It went unsaid, but Cash knew much of the police force was corrupt. Gordon had been making efforts since he was appointed commissioner to weed out that corruption and bring some sort of good grace back into the force. But it was a deep-rooted problem and even after years of weeding they were still being overrun.

They needed more men. They needed more good men. While Ward's record didn't exactly endear him, it seemed Cash was willing to take whatever help he could get where he could get it.

Cash paused, sizing up the silent man sitting in front of him. There was a very obvious moment when Cash's mind switched from patient to 'fuck it'. With a small sigh he tossed down Ward's files, the man didn't so much as flinch at the sound.

But the mood had shifted. Suddenly the little room with only a desk between the pair of them felt less like a job interview and more like an honest to go interrogation. Ward tensed slightly, eyes flickering from the metal table under his clasped hands and the now strewn about files, to the hardened cop standing in front of him.

This was not right. Ward realized with a small start, this really wasn't an interview anymore. Not the kind he'd signed up for anyway.

The very air around them seemed to thin out, leaving Ward struggling to even out his breathing grasping his fingers so tightly they turned white. It would not have surprised him if the oxygen in the room had been replaced with fear gas.

"What exactly do you want to talk with me about?" Ward asked slowly, each word measured and guarded. Then tacked on a terse, "Sir."

Cash again was silent for a moment, eyes fixed on the tense man as if searching for some sign that this was worth the time spent arguing with Gordon.

"We need more people." Cash repeated slowly. The words sounding almost painful to say. "But we don't need them here. We need them out there."

Ward looked up, his eyes holding all the questions that he didn't dare voice. Not yet, not out of turn. Cash had allowed him a small level of rebellion already, not ordering the cigarette be put out, even as the stick grew shorter and shorter. Left seemingly forgotten to burnout. He'd even allowed the potential recruit a bit of lip.

"The city is going to hell, being run by more underground groups and mob bosses than even the cheesiest noir movies. We can manage petty thugs just fine, basic robberies, crimes of passion – the usual stuff is easy. Organized crime is a bit more difficult to keep tabs on."

Now he had the potential recruit's undivided attention.

Good, because he was going to need it for the proposal that came next.

"We need people on the other side." Cash clarified and knew that his meaning had finally sunk in when Ward startled. Back snapping up straight as his hand unintentionally crushed the cigarette.

Ward was a local boy, he knew exactly what was being proposed here and exactly how many different kinds of dead he would be should he accept.

"You're offering me a job." Ward murmured in disbelief. "You're offering me a death sentence."

Cash said nothing to contradict the young man and stayed silent as Ward laughed. The sound very nearly hysterical and Cash most certainly didn't stop the kid from reaching for another cigarette to replace the one he'd ruined. The boy was going to need all the small comforts he could get for this one.

Ward's hands were shaking as he lit up the second one. His head was going a hundred miles a minute. Nobody would fault him, anyone that lived in Gotham for any amount of time knew exactly what the city was like just under the surface. Sometimes not even that, sometimes it was right there in everyone's face.

All that was enough to give Ward time for pause but his mind kept circling back to a different matter. He was being offered a job; they were actually considering taking him despite his record. They would take him.

He could make money.

Gulping, Ward steeled himself and took another drag of his cigarette before speaking words that might condemn him. "What's on the table? Exactly."

"Undercover." Cash said immediately, striding forward to the table between them and placing down a totally separate set of files. These ones were blank on the outside but Ward knew that they'd be far more interesting than his had been underneath.

"It'll be your job to report back to us on any movements made by the gang you're assigned to. You'll have to do most of it on your own – wires or any other form of open communication will get your found out in a microsecond. These criminals, some of them, are more highly armed than this own station. So when you go in, you do so clean everywhere except in your head. You won't take photos, write down notes, nothing. Everything you carry out will have to be in your head. All you have to do is keep your head down and gather any information you can."

Cash listed off the basics, keeping a keen eye on the boy's face as he spoke. Looking for any sign the boy was about to turn pale and pass out on him. Instead he saw Ward looking at the file placed in front of him like it was a chance. A chance locked in a jar of barbed wire and salt water.

He wasn't sure if Ward was willing to dive in or not yet.

"They kill their own men on spot." Ward muttered, hands clutching the file tightly as he slowly flicked through the papers. Each one being handled with care and disgust at what he was reading. "A failed riddle, a joke not laughed at – for breathing. How do you expect to even get a mole into even one of these places?"

"With your position."

Ward looked up, eyes hard and narrowed. "My dishonorable discharge."

"A disgruntled ex military man who was rejected from the police force." Cash listed off the lie that had just a hint of truth to it. "Furious, humiliated and stupid with youth – he joins a gang to get his revenge and put his talents to go use. To steal money he rightfully deserved."

It was a convincing story, a familiar story actually. The sort that littered Gotham. It was the perfect cover, one that was not unique but just meaty enough to convince a boss that it was a thug waiting to be ordered around. Anything to stab back at the people they felt slighted by.

He thought about the little apartment he was currently living in. Thought about the cockroaches and the expired milk in his mini fridge – the fact that he was already due rent and a cardboard box was going to be the next best thing. That or move in with his sister and frankly the box looked like a better option.

Their family needed money as well. Ward knew that his sister was running out of clever ideas to keep her own place and she was still living in that damn shed with all her broken gadgets. Their brother was better off but Ward knew he was in a bad position. In danger.

But then again, in Gotham who wasn't in danger?

More than anything else, they needed the money to keep paying for their baby brother's schooling. That was the real problem, keeping Archer safe and moving up in the world. They had to pretend they weren't struggling or he'd drop out of college to work. Boy had more heart than he did common sense.

They needed this.

Ward must have been almost crazy enough to land himself in Arkham because god forbid – he was actually considering taking this job.

"Say I agree, take this job…" Ward began slowly and Cash knew a foot in the door when he saw it.

"You won't have any trouble paying that rent or keeping your cupboards stocked for a very, very long time."

It was tempting. Ward could feel himself being swayed as he read over the proposal. It was presented bluntly, no sugar coating this potential suicide mission.

On the files there was information on himself, the proposed offer and the money it would provide. Looking over the number, Ward's eyes widened a fraction and he took the cigarette out of his mouth to curse lowly in quiet appreciation. It would most certainly cover his rent.

Beyond that information there were propositions on exactly what form of death he'd prefer. Which gang he might be able to join. It was presented as an offer but Ward noticed a small note under the different gang names that stated the decision would ultimately fall to the police commissioner.

So he was just being asked for a preference – how considerate of them.

"What's this?" Ward asked abruptly. Reaching the end of the fifth page only to catch something strange in the wording. It was plural, as in multiple officers undercover. "You got more recruits going for this?"

"Three in total." Cash answered flatly.

"I'm competing for the right to die in a gang war then, am I?" Ward drawled, feeling a need to be vindictive with his wording. They all knew exactly what this was and Ward was not about to spare them his considerable amount of scorn.

"Not quite." Cash corrected Ward and there was a stale smirk on the man's face. Prompting Ward's curiosity, the expression was akin to something a guilty man would wear when he felt blameless. There was more to this.

"We will be sending three people in, each to monitor a different threat. You'll be just one of these three."

"Where are the other two then?" Ward asked flatly, only for the door to the interrogation room to swing open. Had he been more suspicious Ward would have thought they'd set themselves up for that entrance.

Ward glanced up at the now open door. At first all he saw was another officer in uniform and mistakenly assumed this was one of the other people going undercover. Then the officer moved and Ward was hit with both confusion and unwilling understanding all at once.

The papers landed back on the metal table with a loud thud, and Ward was suddenly up and in Cash's face. To the officer's credit he didn't so much as take a step back as Ward's hands slammed down on the metal table with a resounding bang.

"You're crazy if you think for one damn second I'd ever agree to this!" Ward snarled, very nearly shouting the words.

The officer by the door flinched and dove for his gun but Cash waved him off with a hard look. The nervous officer's hand still lingered as if expecting Ward to really lunge at his boss.

When in Gotham…

Cash looked at Ward with a steely, unmoved stare. Ward met it with his own glare. It was unlikely this officer was the only one behind this but he was the mouthpiece. The one Ward was currently sharing a living space in. The one that put forward this insane idea to begin with, so he was the one dealing with the brunt of Ward's outrage.

"Heya, bro!" Ward groaned, shoulders slumping forward as the petite body behind the spooked guard pushed forward and into the room. Whatever form of intimidation he'd been angling for drained away as the younger girl darted into the room, beaming from ear to ear.

"Clio…" Ward lamented, turning to face his little sister with what he hoped was a stern look as opposed to a pleading one. "What the hell are you doing here?"

As if he wasn't perfectly aware of where this little stunt was headed.

"Job offer." Glancing up Ward met with his other younger sibling's eyes. Caiden stood in the doorway, content to hold back and wait while Clio had rushed on in. "Same as you."

With three Daun children suddenly in the small space it felt incredibly crowded. Caiden could make himself tiny in the corner but Clio filled up all the space she could with her energy and Ward was an imposing force. As if he thought through sheer force of will alone he could will this situation away.

All the while Cash stood back and sized up the trio. They were all massively flawed, but they'd been the ones he made the calls to. Should the offer be accepted he could outline exactly why. The first hurdle was to get them to agree. It was not a task anyone took lightly.

"This is ridiculous!" Ward snapped, turning back towards Cash with a snarl. The older officer didn't seem at all phased by Ward's anger.

"This is the deal on the table." He reasoned flatly.

"You expect me to let my brother and sister sign up for this suicide mission? No way, no way in fucking hell."

"I expect two grown adults to make their own decisions." Ward might have really taken a swing at Cash in that moment. He was furious, burning with a rage he hadn't felt since facing the people that issued him with a dishonorable discharge.

It was true, none of them were children anymore. Even their youngest was already in his early twenties and Archer was blissfully absent from this line up. Ward was the oldest, he'd practically raised these kids himself – of course he would feel entitled to at least have some say in this.

But at the end of the day he couldn't stop them from doing anything. He'd tried to in the past but it was apparently a family fault in the Daun's – stubbornness.

"I'll leave the three of you to consider our offer." Cash gave Ward one last lingering stare before marching right out of the little room with the other officer scampering after him.

The very second the door shut, Ward turned on the pair.

"What in blazes do you two think you're doing? Are you trying to turn me grey before I hit forty?" He demanded, looking between the two of them like they had lost their minds.

"Arron called up and asked us if we wanted a job!" Clio recounted excitedly, the girl buzzing around the room. Inspecting every little thing she could get her hands on. Couldn't stand still for a second, not even to listen to her older brother's scolding.

Clio was their youngest next to Archer. She'd never been particularly focused, at least not on anything she was supposed to focus on. If she wasn't moving she was talking, if she wasn't talking, she was tinkering. School had been a nightmare of course, she simply had too many answers that were not what people wanted to hear and a hundred more questions that shouldn't be asked.

It was almost a relief when she finally bailed out of school. Perusing a mechanic apprenticeship. It was almost a relief to see her out of her lair but Ward would have much preferred she stay there rather than come looking for an exploit like this. Clio wasn't taking this seriously, she never did.

She'd just picked up the files when Caiden's hand came down and pushed them back onto the table. Giving his sister a level stare before turning that same disinterested look onto Ward.

"Mr. Cash contacted us with an offer. Not unlike yourself." He reasoned. Ever the analytical one, if just a little callous.

"I applied to be a cop, not a sacrificial pawn."

"So you were about to refuse his offer?" Caiden pressed and Ward's teeth clenched together in frustration.

The little shit had a point and Ward had never been in the habit of lying to his family. The closest he got was a little white lie they shared to Archer.

To protect him.

Caiden would pick apart such flimsy arguments without a second thought so Ward didn't bother putting them forward in the first place.

"You do realize what this is right?" Ward asked, exasperated with the pair of them. "This isn't a kid's game. The people they're talking about are criminals, serial killers – nut jobs. They'll kill you if you so much as look at them wrong."

"Welcome to Gotham." Caiden drawled, dropping down into the seat Cash had refused to use during his discussion with Ward.

While the younger brother began to flip through the proposal he'd refused to let Clio handle, Ward turned to their sister and tried to appeal to her instead. Clio might not have been as sensible as their brother but she was far less driven by money. Caiden was willing to die for a good buck.

"I've got nothing better to do. What can I say, this is pretty exciting." Clio shrugged, a guiltless grin playing out on her face. She wouldn't die for the coin but she'd certainly die for the adventure. Ward hadn't factored in his sister's sever hatred for boredom.

"You're serious." Ward breathed, mortified with the two of them. He couldn't believe it. "Both of you."

Clio's grin brightened as she swung off the back of Caiden's seat, peering over his shoulder down at the papers. Oh god, they really were.

Groaning, Ward snuffed out his cigarette. Knowing it would win him no brownie points with the other two. He could not believe his piss poor luck, he had to be born with siblings just as suicidal as himself.

"We need the money." Caiden rationalized, not looking up from the papers in his hands. "I need a new job."

"You've been working just fine up until now." Ward argued bitterly.

"I need a new job." Caiden repeated firmly. "Mr. Sionis came to visit the office last week." There was a pause and then in the same tone he delivered all news, Caiden continued. "He hates my face."

Abruptly it became very clear to Ward exactly why Caiden needed a new job. Sionis Industries might have a legal front but everyone knew Black Mask had an entirely less legal operation playing behind the scenes. In fact his gang was on that list currently in Caiden's hands. He was staring at it.

If Sionis didn't like Caiden then…well he was right to try and get out while he still could. If he still could. His little brother might not have been a particularly emotive person but Ward only needed to look at the slightly hard look behind his eyes and the tenseness in his shoulders to know he was well aware of the danger.

In a way Caiden had already been playing this suicide mission long before GCPD thought to hire him.

With a long suffering sigh Ward leant back against the metal table and regarded his brother and sister with tired eyes. He gave in.

"We do this. We do it together. Agreed?"

Both brother and sister snapped their heads up to look at Ward. He fixed them both with a hard stare, they had better take him seriously when he placed down these rules.

"No theatrics, if we're going to do this it has to be taken seriously. We look out for one another first and foremost. The city comes second to this family. We will work together on this, I won't have GCPD use our lives as a stepping stone – you understand me? If you need to get out, you tell me immediately. Do you understand me?"

Clio was quick to pounce on him, very nearly clearing the table between them just to wrap him up in a hug. Ward tensed for a second but gradually returned the embrace. He was still learning how to cope with physical touches, but Clio was nothing if not a hugger.

Beyond his sister's shoulders, Ward could see Caiden watching them. Stoic face threatening to soften into a smile, they had him now.

"Of course. We understand perfectly, Ward." Caiden agreed with less dramatics than Clio. His words as good a confirmation as her hug.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Clio sang happily, spinning away from Ward with a massive grin on her face. He almost smiled back in answer to her glee, only the thought of the danger this represented stopped him from doing so.

Only she could look so gleeful about working for a psychopath. Worse than that, lying to a psychopath.

Her boredom must have scrambled what was left of her brains.

"So, now that we're agreed." Caiden mused, looking up at his brother and sister with that faintly sinister look. The groups on that little piece of paper, flashing up as he held it firm between his fingers. About as appealing and damning as a suicide note.

"Who are we going to die for?"