A bit of a short chapter, but this is all set-up for the next one, which will be much more entertaining.

Thomas Elliot was quite surprised that morning when his secretary buzzed him. Though he was a very quirky man who tended to be boisterous and gregarious, he was all business when it came to Elliot Pharmaceuticals. Everything worked like a well-oiled machine. He was always aware of appointments days in advance, had everything scheduled so that he could get the maximum amount of work in a day possible and the only surprises came from the labs whenever they discovered something.

So you could understand why he was tempted to have whoever it was that was interrupting his schedule thrown out of the building. He did not appreciate walk-ins and he was not aware that he had any appointments set up for this morning.

Everyone knew of his strictness in this and that was why the last time he had a secretary, who happened to be quite passive-aggressive and interfered with his well-oiled machine of a company, fired, she was blackballed from finding any work in Gotham. So in short, his current secretary knew how he liked to run things and knew better than to hold back any information such as, oh he didn't know, appointments for instance.

Buzzing her back, "Who happens to be calling so early?" he spoke into the intercom that was affixed into his desk

"It's Bruce Wayne, Mr. Elliot."

And in an instant, Elliot's tune changed. Well, it was Bruce Wayne, playboy bachelor extraordinaire and wealthy billionaire he might add. Oh, and childhood friend, can't forget that one. Oh what to do...

"Bruce Wayne you say?" he buzzed his secretary back, knowing that Bruce would be able to hear him. "Hmm, I'm going to have to think about that one. Have you checked his ID? He's not some escapee from Arkham, is he?"

A moment the length of a heartbeat passed and then he got his response, not from his secretary, but from a deeper bass of a voice. "I suppose I'll just have to kidnap this beautiful young woman here as compensation for coming all the way out here. You never told me that you get to see an incredible beauty like this everyday. I'm jealous."

"If you do that, I'll have to charge you with kidnapping and sabotage," Elliot chuckled. "Let's skip all that, why don't we? Show Bruce in."

As soon as he was reclining back in his seat, the door to his office opened and the big man himself was shown in. With a dismissing wave towards his secretary, Elliot waited until the door was firmly closed before he began to speak.

"So what brings you in today, Bruce? If it's for some pills, I'm going to have to turn you down. It is my ethical obligation to do so," he said in jest.

"Well, when you put it that way, I think I could use some painkillers," Bruce chuckled as he took a seat in one of the two chairs that rested across his desk.

"You're not abusing narcotics, are you Bruce? What would the world think if it's most prominent philanthropist was a junkie?" Elliot asked with a smirk.

"I know what they would think. They'd think 'oh, typical Bruce,'" Bruce replied.

"Sadly, I believe that would happen," Elliot admitted. "So as I said earlier, what brings you in today?"

Elliot observed as the playful mien of Bruce Wayne dropped away for the more business-minded and serious facet of him. Extracurricular activities aside, there was a reason why Wayne Enterprises was one of the largest corporations on the planet. Elliot would admit to being jealous to how far its reach actually extended.

"I wanted to tell you myself, personally, that I'm going to bring your proposal to my board of directors," Bruce said, leaning forward in his seat as he stared the redhead down.

Well, well, would surprises never cease? This was actually a good surprise and while it wasn't the big OK he was hoping for, it was still a step in the right direction for his venture. It was also a revelation whether Bruce knew it or not. By saying that he was going to forward his business venture to the Wayne Enterprises Board of Directors, it meant that Bruce had some reservations about it, but those reservations weren't strong enough to completely dissuade him from turning his proposal down outright.

Regardless, his proposal had a fighting chance still and once those directors got a whiff of the potential profits they stood to gain from this, they would be on board for it. While money may not be important to someone of Bruce Wayne's stature, everyone else was human and greedy as hell.

Elliot revealed none of his thoughts as he flashed Bruce a glowing smile. "That's great! You don't know how much this has improved my day. If you were a woman, I'd be committing some sexual harassment now by kissing you."

"Thank God I'm not, or I would be suing you for sexual harassment," Bruce retorted, his more playful demeanor making a return.

"As if you need the cash Bruce," Elliot chuckled.

"Or maybe I could use some cash to burn a hole in my pocket, Tommy," Bruce said.

"Ah yes, so rich that the cash from a lawsuit can only be used for that," Elliot replied in good humor. "Or you need more toilet paper, Bruce."

"I have better uses for money than for something like that," Bruce grumbled, letting loose a rather loud snort in the process. "In fact, I can think of a million of them."

"I'm sure your can," Elliot agreed. "So why don't you go on with your bad self and deliver my pitch to your board of directors? Let's get the ball rolling."

"I'll give you a call once I have something set up. If I have trouble, you can bail me out and give a more...concise explanation of your proposal," Bruce said as he stood up from his seat. In jest, the dark-haired man added, "Now I feel like you only want me for my money."

"Don't be like that, Bruce. You still have your devilish looks, but I will always be the handsome one," Elliot responded.

"You certainly do have a way with words," Bruce said with a roll of his eyes.

"I like to call charisma," the redhead replied as he stood up and held out a hand.

"Call it what you like," Bruce countered as he accepted Elliot's hand and shook it. "Here's to revolutionizing the world as we know it."

"Indeed," Elliot agreed, heart beginning to pound in anticipation. "Is it Monday already?"

"More like Wednesday. I'll see you around Tommy." And with that, Bruce concluded their meeting.

"Don't be a stranger!" he called after his childhood friend and once the door to his office closed, Elliot plopped himself back into his seat.

Things were moving in the right direction at least. He couldn't wait. His brainchild was about to become a reality, one that as Bruce himself said would revolutionize the world. There was also that little matter of filling his overflowing bank accounts with even more capital as well, but that was just a perk. A really big perk.

Whoever said he wasn't a noble soul?

It was Essen who came in with the results of the lighter. Apparently she had been on her way to inform him of her progress on the Man-Bat case and had been asked to deliver the fingerprint analysis results while she was at it. Reportedly there was some excitement from forensics, which was always a good sign.

Gordon had the file open, eyes scanned over the information he found. Just like he expected, there was a positive match. Good, good. Better yet, there was a rap sheet to go along with the prints. He'd have to go through the files to get every last detail, but for now all that mattered was that they had a new suspect.

Not just any suspect, but a prime suspect.

It had been a simple matter for Gordon to slip the lighter into evidence and after about a day when he had heard nothing, he had gone and made sure that forensics got a look at it. He put out there that he wanted the forensics on the lighter done as soon as possible and for once, he was listened to.

"Judging by that smile on your face, I take it it's good news," Essen said wryly.

"You'd be right. We have a new lead," he informed her as he closed the file. "I'm going to have to ask you to hold off your report for a little bit. I hope you understand."

"Not at all," Essen replied. "I figured from how excited the lab techs were that this was going to be big. If anything, it'll help my investigation."

"And you're sure about that?" Gordon asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"What better way to propel my case than to eliminate possible crimes my perpetrator is involved with?" Essen countered.

Indeed, Gordon thought to himself. "Depending on how this all falls out, I might need you to drop what you're doing and help out with this. That's a maybe at the moment, Lieutenant, but be prepared."

"Sounds like something is heating up," Essen commented.

Pushing his glasses up, Gordon retorted, "Considering the situation, that comment is somewhat inappropriate. Now if you'll excuse me." He stood up and walked around his desk, Essen stepping aside so that he would have easier access to the door.

He wasn't even through the doorway as he scanned the busy room before him, a change from what it had been several weeks ago. He noted a few familiar faces, some of them hostile while others were like Bullock. Now how was going to get their attention? If their behavior so far was anything to look back on, they weren't going to drop everything just because he called for their attention.

However, he was going to have to do this and show some kind of leadership.

"Everyone? Everyone! Listen up!" he barked out. Those closest to him in proximity jerked out of what they were doing and gaze at him in shock. Those further away paused with what they were doing to glance over at him, but then began to resume what they were doing. A bit frustrating, but it was the best response he had gotten so far. "Drop what you're doing, we have a lead on the arsons," he announced, raising his voice as loud as he could.

Some were pointedly ignoring him now and the ones whose attention he had caught were beginning to return to what they were doing before. The rookies were the only ones who were being obedient, though they were appearing uncertain as they glanced at the more veteran officers. This lack of respect frustrated the commissioner more than anything.

A sharp whistle from his side cut through the noise and the next thing Gordon knew, everyone was directing their attention towards Lieutenant Essen, the woman responsible for the whistle in question. Gordon noted in amusement that Bullock had been in the midst of biting a slice of pizza and was currently looking comedic as he stared at Essen, a string of cheese dangling from his mouth to the slice of pizza in his hand. "The commissioner needs your attention for the moment," Essen called out.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," Gordon nodded, inwardly glad now that some sort of protocol was in order. "We've just gotten results back from forensics from the tavern fire. There was a fingerprint that was made on it and it has been analyzed. Fortunately, the print is one that we have on file. We have a new suspect now." He paused as he glanced through the file he held. "A Garfield Lynns."

Gordon blinked and looked back up as he swore he heard what sounded like a someone spitting out their drink in shock. Now who was taking a drink—oh it was Bullock spitting out his pizza. He was wiping his mouth, but even from here Gordon could see how wide his eyes were.

"Did you say Lynns?" the sergeant demanded as he stood up, knocking his chair to the floor. Looked like Bullock had seen a ghost or at the very least heard one.

Glancing back into the folder again, Gordon answered, "Garfield Lynns, yes."

"Well don't that beat all..." Bullock muttered in wonder, scratching the back of his neck.

"Do you know this man?" Gordon asked curiously. From the way Bullock was behaving, it was a rational conclusion he came to. Why else act spooked unless you knew the name?

"I busted Lynns a few years ago," Bullock explained, looking the commissioner in the eye. "I think he's supposed to be locked up in Blackgate or something."

"Well apparently he got out," Gordon said, looking back into the file. "His fingerprint was found on a lighter that was found at one of the arsons, the most recent to be specific. Speaking of which, what was it that you busted him for?"

Bullock was silent for a moment then he looked away. "'Member a few years ago? There were those house fires? Everyone thought it was a rash of insurance fraud, but really it was one guy. That guy was Lynns and I was the one who caught him in the act. Didn't take long to get him to admit that he had caused all the other fires. He was proud of it, the bastard."

"I want everything we have on Lynns pulled out. I want to know where he frequents, where he hides out, his entire rap sheet, everything," Gordon ordered, turning away from Bullock to address the rest of the division. "I want all available officers out there looking for him. I want him brought in tonight for questioning. Let's do this gentlemen."

Almost like magic, the place sprung back to life. Officers were getting back to work, the din of voices steadily rising, and Gordon couldn't help but feel somewhat nostalgic about it. Before he had been made commissioner, this was how the department used to be, minus that previous period of time that they were ignoring him before Essen's intervention. For once he was listened to and from all appearances obeyed.

What were the odds that the mob was involved with this increase in pace?

"I'm goin' to check in on a few things," Bullock suddenly said, reaching for his trench coat. The way the light played off the weeks old food stains on the sergeant's dress shirt almost made Gordon wince. "I know a few places this guy likes to hang 'round. I'll see if I can get lucky and see 'em there."

"Do it," Gordon replied before looking directly at the sergeant. "Take backup with you."

"Sure, uh, you two," Bullock said, looking around before focusing on the first two officers he saw. "Grab a squad car an' follow me."

Not seeing any reason to say no to Bullock's...selection method, Gordon shrugged and turned away. He trusted Bullock enough to believe that the man knew what he was doing no matter what...impression he gave off. In the meantime, he was going back to his office. Speaking of which, wasn't Essen supposed to be updating him about her investigation?

"Lieutenant?" he asked aloud, glancing at the uniformed female. "Wasn't there something you needed to inform me about?"

"New leads have come up. Need to look into them," Essen summed up.

Well that was quick. "Carry on then," he replied and continued walking back to his office.

Falcone carefully set the telephone on its base, then rested his extended arm on his desk. Barely a moment passed when that same arm jerked back to the enraged-looking man and swung back out, knocking the phone off the table and sending it crashing to the floor with a loud clatter. Something might have broken, but at the moment Falcone could have cared less.

"That insufferable lunatic!" the Roman bellowed as he slammed the bottom of his fist on the hard wood of the oaken desk. "When I get my hands on him..." he trailed off, seething as he did so, his fist clenching tighter to the point his fingernails were digging into his skin.

Of all the things he had expected out of this venture with Maroni, this outcome was the last thing he had wanted. A ninth man killed at the scene of a crime, two of his boys—including his nephew—in police custody, and that fire freak had the gall, the gall, to skip town on him. That man better keep running 'cause the moment he stopped for breath, he was a dead man.

And Maroni! That slimy rat wasn't coming out clean on this one. Once Lynns was caught and disemboweled on his desk—he'd see to that personally—the Roman was going to send the entrails to Maroni and declare all out war on him. This was his city and he wasn't going to give it all up because of one of the Italian's underhanded schemes. He'd sooner give up his throne to that two-faced China rat, Loman, then let Maroni be his downfall.

Falcone knew he should've shot the plan down the moment it had been proposed. His gut had been screaming at him, yet he had given in to Maroni. There must've been some ancestor that was a used-car salesman in that guido. It was the only explanation he had to explain how he agreed with the younger man's idea.

Vengeance would come soon enough; there were bigger fish to fry at the moment. According to his informant in the PD, his nephew and surviving man were being interrogated by the cops. While Johnny was a good kid that wouldn't rat, he was also a guy with a weak constitution for pressure. It was very fortunate the more experienced officers would keep their hands off of him, leaving the greenhorns to fumble around as they tried to get information out of him. That would buy time, but eventually, if one of those pigs got fed up and began hammering the kid, Johnny would be squealing to high heaven. The same could be said for his boy. Obviously Falcone had to get his nephew out of there and arrange for an "accident" to silence the other. Not a difficult arrangement.

That just left finding Lynns. The man had vanished after his botched arson at Maroni's dive. If the speculation by the cops held any weight, that crazy bat guy had shown his mug again. Ha! So much for taking that lunatic out. Falcone couldn't help but feel quite smug at that turn of events.

But that was another problem for another they. Lynns was too dangerous to simply leave alone, even if the Roman had felt forgiving. The man's direct meetings with him and Maroni were very damaging, not to mention Lynns could turn stoolie and rat out both bosses. No man was above saving his own neck if he had to choose between himself and another man.

So just handing the fire-freak over to the cops was not an option, not that it ever was. A city-wide notice to all his boys was going out. Five million to the man that bagged that white-haired son of a bitch, dead or alive. Favors were going to be calling in at the local, state, and if need be federal levels. There was no way Lynns was getting away. Falcone was a dangerous man.

And he was going to remind everyone why.