Disclaimer:Batman and all associated characters are the property of DC Comics. No profit is being made from the publication of this story, and no copyright infringement is intended. The only characters belonging to me are the original ones, created specifically for this story.
Author's Notes: I'm so sorry for the update lag. I had this chapter near completed for at least three weeks, but then I started my work for the summer, and didn't have much energy left for anything else, so I didn't finish the chapter until this weekend. As for more practical matters, my friend Mia did beta this, as she usually does, but by her own admission got so caught up in the action that she forgot to look for mistakes, so if you see any, feel free to drop me a line, and I'll get it fixed. Mia also remarked on the lack of Connie in this chapter, to which I can only say that Connie will come back strong in the next one, I think I can pretty much promise you that.
I still love reading your reviews, so I'd be very happy if you'd take a few minutes to let me know what you think. Any other questions or comments, feel free to email/pm me. Hope you've all had a great summer so far! Enjoy!
"I don't care if you're the president of the United States. You got your ass kicked, Bruce, you're not going anywhere…"
Bruce winced in pain as he tried to sit up, but was pushed back down on the bed, firmly but gently, by a pair of latex gloved hands.
"Is that you official diagnosis, doctor?" He quipped, but quickly decided against provoking her further when two of her fingers suddenly applied a bit more pressure than the others, making him wince again, and two steel blue eyes narrowed in his direction.
Her name was Leslie Thompkins, she was a spirited woman somewhere in her fifties, who usually divided her time between working with Wayne Medical on making new medicine available to an increasing number of people, and working to save as many as she could as part of the core team in one of Gotham's largest free clinics. She had shoulder-length dark hair streaked with gray, which was usually gathered in a ponytail, and attentive, kind blue eyes that gave her a calm but caring expression, except when provoked.
Leslie was also an old friend of Thomas Wayne, the two having met when Leslie was still in medical school. Bruce had brief memories of a much younger Leslie at the Manor, attending a party thrown by his parents. Never one afraid of speaking her mind she had gotten herself involved in an argument, only to have Thomas Wayne siding with her, much to the surprise of the opposing part. Much later, Bruce thought he could see what had made his father take an interest in Leslie. They both seemed to share a very idealistic core, believing that as people of means and a good education they had an obligation to help those who had less.
Of course, Leslie had also been an invaluable resource to Thomas Wayne's offspring. Because there were some injuries that Alfred Pennyworth, with all his military and medical experience, could not fix, and for those Leslie had come in as nothing less than a life saver. Although, she had very nearly refused to help him. He could still vaguely remember the look on her face the first time Alfred had found it necessary to call on her. She had looked at him with something resembling disgust, both amazed and angry that the son of a man she had admired greatly, a man as socially conscious as Thomas Wayne, thought himself good enough to step above the law. But, luckily for him, the doctor that was such a large part of Leslie's personality won out, and as time went on, and she saw what he could accomplish as a vigilante, her resentment had grown milder. She was still the first to speak up against his activities, but in addition to being a voice of reason in his life she had also taken upon herself the role of his protector.
"You are not going anywhere." She repeated, putting emphasis on every word, before adding almost as an afterthought;
"Unless it's the sofa upstairs. I'd say 'bed', but that would be too much for me to hope for, wouldn't it?"
The words were spoken kindly, but with a hint of irony that was impossible to miss.
"Indeed." Bruce saw no cause to argue. It would be useless, and it would probably only earn him a scolding for reckless spending of his energy.
Leslie had barely left the mansion before Bruce disregarded the doctor's orders and made his way, albeit somewhat gingerly, into the secret network of caves that was the base of operations for his currently incapacitated alter ego. He had discovered a long time ago that he rather lacked a talent for doing nothing.
Carefully, as to not further damage his already broken ribs or worsen any of the other injuries Leslie had listed to him earlier, he eased himself into a chair that faced an array of computer screens, and, touching a button on the desk in front of him, the screens were brought to life.
A while later, when each of the screens showed the details of a case file concerning Floyd Lawton's victims, he registered the approaching sound of footsteps and quickly concluded that Alfred had probably discovered that he was no longer to be found upstairs and had decided to check the most likely place his master could have escaped to. His conclusion was proved correct when he heard the older man's voice behind him.
"If you would excuse me saying so, Master Wayne, but you do make a bloody poor patient…"
Bruce shrugged, and leant back in his chair, trying to ignore the jolts of pain surging through his body as a result.
"We all have our faults, Alfred."
"Indeed, sir. But not everyone has faults that might very well get them killed one day."
"I can't just lie and bed and do nothing, Alfred… It's almost as if Talia wants me to figure it out. Or perhaps she just said more than she had meant to, in the heat of battle. Either way, I intend to figure out what she has planned. She's the mind behind all this…Floyd Lawton is just the well paid hand that does the work."
Alfred noticed that his master had a deck of cards in front of him, and that he had placed some cards so that they corresponded to the monitors. He had read enough of the reports to know that each victim had been found with a playing card somewhere on their person, as if the whole thing was a poor mimicry of what the Joker had done, perhaps to reawaken public fear, or just to confuse the police in their investigation. Now Alfred also noticed that all the cards were from the suit of spades, and that the numeric value had so far moved steadily upwards, starting at two of spades and, with the last three murders to be committed, reaching seven. The remaining cards, Bruce had placed in a row in the middle of the table, and he was meditating over them, his hand sometimes resting on a card, moving it slightly, before moving it back.
"Any luck in discovering who the next victims may be, Master Wayne?"
Bruce shook his head slightly, but then seemed to change his mind, and said;
"Maybe."
There was a moment of silence, before Bruce continued.
"It seems he's graduated from criminals to crime fighters…" Bruce observed quietly,
"He started with a homeless guy…among the lowest in the ranks of any city…" While he spoke, Bruce slowly placed one finger on the two of spades card that rested on the table beneath the screen showing Charles Corcorran's autopsy photo.
"Then came a drug dealer" His finger moved to three of spades, lying beneath a screen showing another autopsy photo, this one of a once beautiful young woman.
"Then another…" Again his finger moved from one card to the next, but this time he hesitated, as if reconsidering.
"But something changes here… The first two had no family and very few friends who cared enough about them to even ID them to the police. They were nobodies, in every sense of the term… But Mark…Mark was different, he was one of mine. And Lawton had to have known that…the chance of him picking one of my informants out for a random hit is, statistically, very slim. It could be a coincidence of course, but I don't believe in those kinds of coincidences. I think Mark was the turning point…to show me that this was something other than random murders, or even random assassinations, something personal."
Bruce paused, and threw a glance over his shoulder, as if to see if Alfred had reacted to any of what he had just said. But Alfred stood quietly as always, waiting for his master to continue.
"After that, Lawton moved on to people in law enforcement… Derek Seaver was a court clerk, Claire Girard worked as a secretary in the District Attorney's Office, and Adam Trent was a cop…"
Bruce paused again, and the sentence hung unfinished in the air between them, until Alfred urged him on.
"But?"
"But this is all just the beginning." Bruce sighed.
"The real challenge Talia has undoubtedly promised Lawton begins now, when I'm aware of the plan… That's why she will most likely have saved the most important people for last."
"Important to whom, sir? You or the city?"
"Knowing Talia, and considering our…history, adding what she said during the fight, I would imagine both."
Again his fingers touched the card, this time the seven cards that he'd placed in the middle of the table. Gently he pushed the King and Ace of Spades away from the others.
"I think I know who these are supposed to represent…but the others…"
"The King and the Ace, sir?"
Bruce placed a finger on the King and the Ace in turn, and said quietly:
"Commissioner Gordon… and the Batman."
There was a moment of silence as both men seemed to consider what had just been said. After a while, Alfred finally asked:
"And the others?"
"That's what I have to figure out…" Bruce replied.
"What I'm afraid of is that I'm going to figure it out the hard way."
Georgina Reed was standing in front of her bedroom mirror, skeptically surveying herself. At the moment it was her outfit that made her uncomfortable. Red stiletto heels, black hotpants and a top that felt heavy with sparkly stones under the black blazer was not how she had grown accustomed to dressing. And although, on some level, she might have thought it refreshing to go out in something other than her work clothes, she was far too nervous to consider that an advantage.
What worried her most was that, because of the way she was dressed, there would be nowhere to conceal her gun, and she did not like the thought of going out without a weapon. It felt as if she was forced to go out without a lifeline. She knew, of course, that many people in Gotham walked the streets unarmed every day, and that most of them survived, but when walking Crown Point and Bowery with Harvey Bullock, she had also seen her fair share of those who had not been so fortunate, and she did not want to end up like them.
But she couldn't go to a club in her everyday clothes, much less her uniform. And Bullock had been very clear about how if she expected to meet this Nyssa Raatko character, she needed to fit in. Nyssa would not, and could not, deal openly with the police, that would surely get her killed. But Georgina had understood, from what Bullock had said, that Nyssa would sometimes be sympathetic towards law enforcement, and help if she was asked, and it served whatever hidden purpose she thought herself to have in the city.
Georgina herself didn't know what to think. This all seemed incredibly shady to her, but, she thought while she locked the door to her apartment, if it can help us stop Deadshot, then maybe it's worth it. She had begun to realize that as a Gotham cop, the ability to compromise was a necessity. That they did not have the resources needed to do battle on all fronts, but that they needed to prioritize, and go after the biggest threats first. And that that meant sometimes having to make deals with people they would rather have put behind bars. Walking through the darkening city streets, she began to understand how Bullock had become so hardened.
Much to Georgina's surprise it didn't take her long to get into the club. The line had been crowded with people, some fresh faced and others already well into their night out, and within half an hour of her arrival one of the guys at the door had singled her out and pulled her, along with some other women, out of the line and into the club.
Inside there was a sound level unlike anything Georgina was used to, and she was reminded almost instantly why she didn't spend her free time frequenting the Gotham club scene. The flashing lights felt as if they temporarily blinded her, and the throbbing bass made it impossible for her to hear anything of what was going on around her. Georgina felt instantly uncomfortable, but gritted her teeth and kept walking deeper into the club.
She had no idea what, or who she was looking for. Bullock had been beyond vague when directing her, which was unlike him, and only served to make her even more skeptical of the situation. She moved past the bar, zigzagging between the tables in the seating area, and was about to walk in a wide circle around the dance floor, when something, or rather someone caught her eye.
She didn't know what made her look at first. It was a feeling more than anything, the feeling of being watched. She glanced around and saw nothing, but that did not erase the feeling that there was someone watching her.
Then, as if she had appeared out of nowhere, Georgina spotted a woman across the room that did not quite fit with the rest of the club's clientele. When she looked closer, she noticed that it was a small difference, nothing she would have noted with more than a curious glance had she been out just for fun.
The woman was dressed all in black, as opposed to the much more colorful garb of the people around her, and had short-cropped hair as dark as her clothing. She looked like she might have mistaken this club for one of the underground Goth clubs Georgina knew there were plenty of around the city, but this woman did not seem fazed at the prospect of not fitting in at all. There was a clear feeling of purpose about the woman, and Georgina suspected, mostly based on the burning glance that lingered on her that tonight she was part of that purpose.
Involuntarily Georgina shuddered, as the black-clad woman silently beckoned her to follow; only to disappear from view through what Georgina assumed was a back door of some description. Hesitant at first, Georgina followed. No use in backing out now. Deadshot was probably already on the hunt for his next victim, and if this was helping to put a stop to him – so be it.
The door turned out to be an emergency exit, which lead to a network of stairs making up a series of fire escapes, all criss-crossing, coming from the different floors. But Georgina couldn't see any sign of the elusive mystery woman, so she warily began making her way downwards, towards street level and the alley behind the club.
The alley was dark, as was the norm of Gotham City alleyways, and Georgina became all the more wary of her surroundings because of it. The alley was blocked off by a brick wall at one end, and the barrier was so tall that she would not be able to scale it without some kind of assistance. Silently, Georgina prayed that she wouldn't have to when movement behind her made her spin around.
Facing her was the mystery woman from the club. She was clearly older than Georgina, but Georgina found that she could not guess how old the woman might be. There was something…ethereal about her that still felt very powerful, more like a demon than an elf. Because of the darkness, Georgina could not clearly make out the other woman's facial features, and she realized that if she was asked, she would have trouble giving an accurate description.
"Nyssa?"
Georgina noticed to her annoyance that her voice was trembling slightly when she called out. The call had the desired effect though, the woman took a few steps forwards, then stopped to survey her. Georgina returned the favor. From this distance she could make out a few more features. High cheekbones, elegantly shaped eyebrows, a bottom lip that was fuller than the upper lip, a rather small nose and almond shaped, electric blue eyes under tousled black hair.
"You are Miss Reed, I presume?"
Georgina noted that there was no trace of a Russian accent in the other woman's voice, and wondered whether or not Bullock had really been right when he said she was Russian. Warily she responded:
"Yes… how did you know?"
"Harvey Bullock…he showed me a picture…so, when you came into the club, I would know." She paused for a moment before continuing.
"I have what you came for."
Slowly, she put her hand into her pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, which seemed to glow almost ghostly white in the semi-darkness. Georgina drew a deep breath. This was why she was here?
Georgina Reed may not have been a very experienced police officer, but one thing she had learned: Nothing in Gotham comes without a price.
"What's the catch?" She asked.
She saw a glint in the other woman's eyes and suddenly became scared that she had somehow gone too far. Before she could figure out exactly why that was, Nyssa had taken a step back and said something in what sounded like Russian, apparently calling two muscular-looking, black-clad men forward. Without hesitation, they effectively barred any escape route she might have taken and began to direct blows and kicks in her direction.
For a split second Georgina had no idea what was going on, but when one of the two gorillas caused her to stumble with a well-placed low kick, she instinctively understood that this was for real and that she would have to fight back. She managed to regain her footing and dodge a blow from gorilla number two, but only to have gorilla number one deliver a blow directly to the back of her neck, knocking her down easily. While she was on the ground, gorilla number two came back into the fight, delivering an effective kick to her ribs. Georgina thought she could feel at least one of her ribs crack, but didn't have time to think about it–she was too busy gasping for breath. She managed to stumble onto all fours, and was surprised to see blood trickling from her mouth onto her hands. Just as she was instinctively trying to crawl away from her attackers, she heard something being spoken loudly in the same Russian-sounding language, and the two men disappeared into the shadows once more.
She barely registered the sound of footsteps, but reacted when Nyssa's slim figure crouched over her. Georgina braced herself for a killing blow, but instead felt a cold hand against her chin that lifted her head slightly, allowing her to see into a pair of electrical blue eyes that seemed to gleam in the darkness.
Nyssa put a finger to her lips, and spoke gently.
"This city is for vultures, Georgina…"
Georgina almost winced at the use of her first name, but managed to restrain herself.
"They think that if you have enough money, everything is for sale. And most of the time they are right. But I know…and you have learned, that there are some things which demand a greater price, or a greater sacrifice than money. Sometimes…"
She paused and eyed Georgina with an intensity that was unlike anything Georgina could remember having experienced before.
"Sometimes only blood is payment enough."
Nyssa wiped blood off Georgina's jaw with one hand, and held up the folded note in the other. Knowing that she would only get this one chance to take what she had come for, Georgina quickly grabbed the note, staring almost disbelievingly at it.
Nyssa stood, and turned to leave, when Georgina called after her:
"If you know all the things they say you know… why are you helping us?"
Nyssa stopped, and turned back, a slight smile visible on her face.
"I was brought up to believe that even among criminals there is a code of honor. When I came here, I was quickly proven wrong. So now I help those who are willing to pay the price…"
"Does that include beating the shit out of your clients?" Georgina asked, some of the fighter spirit having found its way back into her voice.
Nyssa's smile broadened, and she shook her head before she continued to walk. Georgina watched her go, and oddly enough she thought she heard a faint, high-pitched and slightly unnerving laughter accompany the supposed private investigator. Only when Nyssa had disappeared from view did it occur to Georgina to look for the two men Nyssa had with her, but they were nowhere to be seen.
Georgina Reed spent the rest of her night in the emergency room, and her mood when she came to work the following day was suitably worn. Josie raised an eyebrow at the sight of her split lip, and asked carefully:
"Hey rookie… rough night?
Georgina shot her a dark look from across the desk, but softened slightly when she saw the worried look in Josie's eyes.
"Yeah…guess you could say that."
"What happened?"
Georgina shrugged and shook her head slightly in response.
"It was nothing…"
"Doesn't look like nothing." Josie remarked, but didn't push it further.
Georgina pulled the hard won note out of her jeans pocket and began typing what had turned out to be an address into their database. She had no idea if it was legit or if it would turn out to be just another red herring, but a part of Georgina hoped it would be Floyd Lawton's address. But, as she had become increasingly more aware, it could also be a dead end. The machine began its search, and Georgina leant carefully back in her chair, taking a moment to feel her sore ribs, also acquired the night before.
Just as she did so, Commissioner James Gordon emerged from Maggie Sawyer's office. He made his way through the bullpen, sometimes smiling and nodding or exchanging a couple of words with some of the detectives as he passed them. He was about to walk past Georgina and Josie when he saw Georgina's face and stopped.
"Officer Reed? What happened to you…?"
"I walked into a door."
She was fully aware of how ridiculous her response sounded, but she didn't see any reason to tell anyone about her night out clubbing…at least not when she didn't know how legitimate the information gained would turn out to be.
But Gordon, as she would soon find out, was not that easily fooled.
"Do you have a minute, Officer?"
Georgina was surprised at how gentle his voice sounded, and since she didn't think it seemed like a good idea to refuse the Police Commissioner, she nodded, and got up from her seat. Gordon didn't say a word, only lead the way to a disused office down the hall and closed the door behind them. Inside, he turned to Georgina and said;
"You know, most people have forgotten that I was in the military… it's a long time ago, but still…"
"So?"
Georgina didn't want to sound like an ungrateful fourteen year old, but on the spot she couldn't think of a better response. Gordon seemed to understand her intentions and smiled a small, forgiving smile before continuing.
"So, I know what someone looks like after they've been beat up."
He didn't give her a chance to comment on this before he continued;
"Georgina… I want to know who did this to you, and why."
Georgina looked up at the use of her first name. That wasn't something she was used to her bosses using, or even knowing. But Gordon apparently did. And since she had a feeling that it would be just as bad an idea to lie in the face of Gotham's Police Commissioner, she took a deep breath, and told him everything. About Bullock, about Nyssa Raatko, about the attack, the price and the note. Gordon stood silent and mostly devoid of expressions until she finished. Then, he kindly asked:
"Is there anything you want from me?"
Georgina raised an eyebrow, and replied;
"Like what?"
Gordon shrugged.
"Some time off… Bullock's head on a silver platter…"
She tried to remain serious, if nothing else to try and minimize the strain on her two cracked ribs, but nevertheless snorted with laughter when Gordon mentioned Bullock.
"No thanks…" she managed to say, trying to hold back the laughter.
"I want to see if we get anything on that address I got… but if we don't, Bullock's ass is mine."
"Good enough for me," Gordon nodded, before Georgina excused herself and went back to her desk.
Barely half an hour later, Georgina noticed the looming shadow who she knew belonged to Harvey Bullock in the hallway outside.
Probably hovering around, waiting for his opportunity to take credit if I get something off that address Georgina thought, feeling the smoldering anger she held against Bullock from the night before flaring up. She decided to be fair, and made her way out into the hallway to confront him.
He noticed her the moment she closed the door behind her, and although his smile faded slightly at the sight of the bruise she sported on one cheek, that didn't do anything to subdue her anger.
"So, how'd it go last night?" Bullock asked, sounding just as cocky as he usually did.
Georgina shrugged, pretending to consider her response.
"Oh, not too bad… I got an ass-kicking and a couple of cracked ribs…"
He seemed to pick up on where this was going, and tried to calm her.
"Listen…Reed…"
"Bullock, shut up! It would have cost you five seconds…five LOUSY seconds, not even that, to warn me that this Russian broad you set me up with took her payment in blood. And you didn't bother to say anything. Thanks to you, I spent most of last night in the emergency room!"
Apparently Bullock had now realized that he was getting yelled at by someone half his size, and found it was time to start arguing back.
"Look, I'm not exactly tight with the broad… I thought maybe she'd go easy on you! Did you get anything from her about the Lawton guy?"
"Easy? Yeah, sure, I guess if you call a couple of Russian mob guys three times my size easy…"
Both of them paused for a while, each staring at the other, sizing up the opposition.
"As far as Lawton goes…" Georgina began, her voice back to its normal volume,
"I might have gotten a lead off that private investigator of yours. What's it to you?"
Bullock seemed to quickly pick up on the fact that he might be on the verge of getting screwed, because he quickly voiced a protest.
"Reed! We had a deal! If I got you what you needed, you'd mention me to the brass."
Georgina seemed to stop for a moment and take stock, before she calmly, as if explaining something, replied:
"Bullock. You screwed me over. I have issues with people putting me in the hospital and expecting gratitude. So, what's to keep me from screwing you back? I think I'm just going to keep my mouth shut…"
Inside the Major Case offices you could hear a pin drop. Gordon had been on his way to leave, when he had heard the argument between Officers Reed and Bullock. The silence around him indicated quite clearly that he wasn't alone in that, because everyone in Major Case, including Josie MacDonald, had stopped what they were doing and was paying attention to the shadows outside the door.
"She's a tough nut to crack that one…" Gordon remarked quietly to Josie, whose desk he was standing next to.
Josie raised an eyebrow and looked sideways up at Gordon.
"I'll say… I don't think I've ever heard Bullock take heat from anyone like that before…except from you."
A sly grin tugged at the corners of Josie's mouth when she saw the somewhat embarrassed reaction of the Commissioner. He had known Harvey for years, and been one of the witnesses to his…versatile career path through law enforcement, mostly as a colleague, but also as boss, during Bullock's brief previous stint in Major Case.
Activity returned to normal when Georgina re-entered the room, and she hadn't even sat down at her desk before the printer beside her spat out a piece of paper. Georgina grabbed it absentmindedly, having seemingly forgotten what she had set the computer to work on before her argument with Bullock. However, it didn't take more than a quick glance down at the paper in her hand for her to remember and utter;
"Son of a bitch!" Loud enough for everyone in the office to hear her.
Josie looked up briefly, asking:
"You got something?"
Georgina flipped the paper around and placed it on top of everything else on Josie's desk.
"Yeah." She declared, her voice almost breathless with triumph.
For a brief moment Georgina waited, until she saw Josie rummage frantically around her desk for another piece of paper to compare to the one she had just given her. Then, as she noticed Josie's eyes widen, a wolfish grin crept up on her lips.
The two of them locked eyes for a second, before Josie turned around sharply, calling after Gordon, who had come a few steps closer to leaving the office.
"Sir! You need to see this!"
Gordon turned quickly, encouraged by the urgency in Josie's voice, and in five steps he was back at the desk where Josie sat, alternating between utter surprise and eagerness.
"Georgina got a hold of Lawton's last known address… He was even stupid enough to give us his picture!"
Gordon glanced over her shoulder at the two sheets she was holding. One was from INTERPOL, proclaiming that the dangerous criminal named Floyd Lawton, aka Deadshot had escaped custody and was at large, while the other was a print out of a tenancy agreement with a copy of a driver's license attached. The name on the contract was obviously fake, as well as the driver's license… but the images matched.
"Samuel Colt-Winchester….that figures," Gordon muttered,
"The guy took his cover name from inventors of guns and ammo."
"Get this to Maggie," Gordon continued after a moment,
"And prepare yourselves for one hell of a roll-out."
Josie stood quickly, grabbing the two sheets from Gordon and heading in the direction of Maggie Sawyer's office. The rest of the squad room seemed to come to life in a sudden sense of urgency. Some made phone calls; others stuck their heads together in quiet conversation, while some shouted commands over the heads over everyone else. In the middle of this, Gordon noticed, Harvey Bullock still stood hesitant, now just inside the door. Gordon noticed, and raised his voice just enough for Bullock to hear him.
"You looking for a chance to be a hero, Bullock?"
It was said half in jest, half in seriousness, but it was apparent from Bullock's reaction that he really wouldn't mind a chance to get a foot in the door with Major Case again. Gordon seemed to consider the reaction for a moment, then turned to Georgina.
"What do you think, Officer? Would you trust that guy with your life?"
Georgina screwed up her face in mock concentration, and seemed to consider Gordon's question thoroughly, before she shrugged and said;
"Sure. Why not?"
Bullock's mouth fell open in surprise, and Georgina couldn't help but grin at that. Gordon seemed to think something similar, because he smiled, before locking eyes with Bullock and nodding towards Georgina.
"You're with her. Now get moving…both of you."
The apartment that was registered on Floyd Lawton was in an upscale part of the city, in a newly constructed apartment building. At first Georgina thought this odd, she had expected him to hide in a dump, some rundown building where whatever other tenants there were would not dare to look at him twice for fear of dying. But, as Bullock had remarked while they drove uptown: What's the point of having one of the best paid jobs in the world if you're not going to spend the money?
She settled for that. It made sense, in a way. Floyd Lawton certainly seemed like the type who liked showing off a bit.
Their entry was silent. Or at least as silent as it could be, with at least fifteen police officers from Major Case and a couple of SWAT teams, trying to gain access to the building. The teams quickly divided, one on the elevators, one on the stairs, each followed by two small groups of policemen. Georgina found herself, separated from Bullock, in one of the teams going up the stairs. She wondered for a second whether or not Bullock had made a conscious move to get on one of the teams riding the elevators, and came to the conclusion that that was probably the case.
She didn't really have time to be dismayed, and even if she had, she probably wouldn't be. She was beginning to understand that this was Bullock's way.
As Georgina and the team in front of her emerged from the stairwell she discovered that they were the first ones to get to the apartment in question. The SWAT team prepared to breach the door, Georgina found herself tasting the adrenaline of fear. Her weapon was drawn, but pointing towards the floor, her finger on the trigger. It was as if she could clearly feel her heart pounding against her ribs, and for a moment she thought it might break free of her ribcage, but she somehow managed to control it by staring intently at the door in front of her. She was trying to visualize what it would look like inside. At the academy they had trained for a variety of different scenarios, but no matter how much they had been drilled in the proper procedures, Georgina had discovered that nothing could really prepare you for the reality. What the drilling did do was create a sort of alternate consciousness that, if you kept training it, could in some cases override your natural instincts. And although Georgina was nowhere near mastery of this, she had already tasted what it felt like to have your instincts suppressed by learned actions. Focusing her thoughts away from her instinct to turn and run, she managed to get her pulse more under control, and as the splintered lock gave way in front of her, everything sped up.
The SWAT team spread through the apartment like scattered marbles, shouting commands in a language that seemed all their own. Georgina, being inexperienced compared to most of the other police officers had, almost as a second thought, been pushed towards the back of the group, and so most of the rooms had been cleared by the time she entered. She glanced around, and relaxed when she saw that there were no armed assassins apparent anywhere. Within five more minutes, the apartment was crowded with yet more police officers, and they all started to tear the place apart, looking for evidence of what Floyd Lawton had been up to.
Georgina joined her colleagues in the search, and made her way carefully through the apartment, taking in her surroundings, looking for anything that could help her learn more about Floyd Lawton. As she should have expected of a professional assassin, there wasn't much to find. She walked further and further into the apartment, until she ended up in the bedroom.
The bed was made, and showed no signs of having been slept in recently. Everything else in the room appeared equally immaculate. There were no books or other paraphernalia on the bedside table, no clothes or shoes strewn about. Nothing to indicate that an actual person really lived there. She slid open the door to the closet, to see if there were any clothes in it at all, but just as the door slid open she was surprised by an arm emerging, and a hand gripping her. Before she could even think to resist, she was pulled sideways towards the closet, she collided with the opened door, was knocked off balance and fell to the floor. She yelled out in surprise, just as a dark-clad figure stepped out of the closet and made for the window.
It didn't take her long to get back on her feet and lash out after her attacker, but she was just a moment too late, her clawing fingers couldn't get a good grasp, and she was brought down again by a swift tackle. He was halfway out the window by the time she had gathered her wits enough to draw her weapon and aim. She fired twice in quick succession, but with so much adrenaline in her veins, her aim suffered, and one round missed, embedding itself in the wall. Round number two, however, hit its intended target, but the hit wasn't significant enough to stop him in his tracks. Instead it only served to hurry his exit, and Georgina could hear the fire escape clatter as her suspect fled the scene.
Still fueled by adrenaline as well as a certain anger, she followed, crossing the room in two steps. Just as she was about climb out onto the fire escape to take up pursuit, shots were fired from below in her direction. Instinctively, she spun away from the window and crouched down in an attempt to avoid the bullets. She counted three shots, and then waited for about five seconds before daring to think about continuing.
Whether or not she would actually have had the guts to pursue Deadshot turned out to be irrelevant. Just as the five seconds passed, two other police officers came running through the door. She realized that they had probably been alarmed by her surprised yell, and that what had seemed like several minutes to her, had in reality only been a matter of seconds. Before either of the officers could begin to question her, the familiar voice of Harvey Bullock sounded loud and clear from the doorway.
"What the hell is going on here?"
Georgina, who had sat crouched on the floor as if frozen when the first two officers entered the room, now got slowly to her feet.
"Son of a…" she began, mostly to herself, but she didn't finish. She noticed Bullock looking to her for an explanation, and began hesitantly:
"It appears that…that the suspect was still on location." She said, eying Bullock's reaction. As predicted, his eyes widened, and his voice rose to a dangerously high level.
"What?"
At that point Georgina braced herself for a screaming match with Bullock to defend her actions, but before either of them could begin another voice interrupted.
"Bullock…outside."
Bullock's eyes shot a wicked glance at the speaker, but the third voice only grew more insistent at that.
"Now."
Bullock reluctantly moved aside to reveal the much smaller, but no less commanding form of Captain Maggie Sawyer. Georgina could hear Bullock muttering curse words under his breath as he removed himself from the room.
Maggie Sawyer's presence seemed to cause several of the officers that crowded the entrance to the room to lose interest as well, and only a few stuck around to hear what would happen next.
"What happened, Reed?"
"The place was cleared, and we were checking all the rooms for possible evidence… I was in here, alone, and I thought that since the room really didn't look lived-in, that I'd check the closet for clothes and shoes just to see if there was anything there at all. I slid open the door, and he jumped out at me and slammed me into the side of the closet…"
"You get a good look at him?"
Georgina shook her head.
"Tall, dark hair, medium build… Fair bet that it's our guy, but he didn't exactly stick around…"
Maggie Sawyer sighed, and asked:
"Then what happened?"
"He bolted for the window. I lashed out at him, but he tackled me and sent me to the floor for a second. I pulled my weapon and fired just as he was climbing out through the window…
"How many shots did you fire?"
"Two. One missed, hit the window frame, but I think the second one hit him in the shoulder."
Sawyer nodded.
"We had another quick response team surrounding the building on ground level…If he got out, they'll know where he went."
Still shaken, Georgina made her way into the hallway a few minutes later, where she again crossed paths with Bullock.
"Wanna take the night off rookie?"
Somehow Bullock managed to combine sounding patronizing with sounding worried, and Georgina thought to herself that he was probably the only person in the world who could pull off that combo.
"No," she said, with a determination that seemed to surprise Bullock,
"I want to tear this place apart. There is no way he lived here this entire time and didn't leave some kind of trail, and we're damn well going to find it."
To her surprise, Bullock grinned.
"I like where your head's at."
The following night Jim Gordon sat alone in his office at Gotham's City Hall. On the desk in front of him was a plastic evidence bag sealed with red tape, half a bottle of Jim Beam along with a tumbler with half its contents remaining, and a cell phone.
Gordon's eyes travelled slowly from one item to the next until they rested on the phone. He eyed it suspiciously, as if he was waiting for it to read his mind and start to ring. Another beat, nothing happened… With a sigh, Gordon reached for the tumbler, downed the rest of the contents, and pressed a button on the phone.
Even when he knew it was coming, the rasping voice on the other end still made him shudder, although it didn't take him more than a second to compose himself and utter the crucial words.
"I have new info on our friend Mr. Lawton. One of my detectives got a lead off of a contact on the street, which lead to an apartment building uptown… We tore the place apart and found his hit list. Almost got him too, but he slipped through the net… Icy son of a bitch…"
There was a pause, and although nothing was said, Gordon felt as if the creature on the other end blamed him for letting Lawton get away, but he wasn't sure if it was truly the feelings of the Batman, or the fact that he blamed himself for letting Lawton slip.
"Who's on the list?"
"A couple of lawyers from private firms, as well as the Assistant District Attorneys and the District Attorney, one we haven't been able to identify, me…and you."
"We've both been on his list before." The voice concluded.
"Yeah, but we're playing the odds, don't you think? Second time lucky might not happen this time…"
"Have you warned the lawyers?"
"Of course I have… All of them accepted police protection, thank god, although I'm not sure how much good that'll do, considering who we're dealing with. But it's the best I've got… I'm more worried about the poor soul I can't offer anything…"
"You haven't been able to track the person down?"
"Nothing to go on. All except one were listed by name, but in the third spot all that's written is an alias. The Queen of Hearts…
On his side of the connection, Bruce's mind was reeling, and he had to focus intently not to slip out of character.
"I really wish I could help, " Gordon continued,
"But I have no idea who this is."
The voice on the other end betrayed no emotion, but the words spoke for themselves.
"I do."