It had never been a pleasant ordeal to placed as the mayor of Gotham, and in most cases the people would find themselves voting as best they could and only discovering the will of their candidates after they had won, either becoming corrupt in order to secure safety or ending up in the east bay soon after their inauguration ceremony. You'd need to have the right face, the right record, the right voice, every single element of your being had to exude happiness and hope to such a point when you practically shit out rainbows on command if you ha any realistic expectations of making it out here. This city was aging and mutating into a shadow of its former self and they all could read the writing on the wall of this cold tomb of a metropolis, people were scraping by on the desperation and kindness of others in one moment and being leeched dry by those who held a bitter intent and more lethal a means to persuade others to their side. Diplomacy had died with their white knight Harvey Dent, officially reported to having been murdered by the masked vigilante Batman a little more then a year ago, and now the days of trying to fight back with clever wit and using loopholes within the legal system were nothing more then a faint whisper. The people had spoken for justice, they had spoken for blood, like an angered mob with torch and pitchfork summoning the devil himself to their aid...they found their marked savior in the guise of Harold Ambrosia.
His two predecessors spanned a total of a staggering forty years dating back to the deaths of the ever precedented Martha and Thomas Wayne with the somewhat loose willed and sparsely valued Aubrey James, who was well received by the public as he made deals with both criminals and police departments alike to provide a quick solution. That being said, sometimes the fastest solution wasn't the one that was done using the best tactics or even the best deductive reasoning, as in the case of the aforementioned murders he moved to arrest on the cases first lead and pressured the GCPD into making an arrest regardless in order to boost his political appeal and put the people of Gotham at ease. After his removal some time later from office, he was met by a stark opposite in power known as Anthony Garcia, a far younger political idealist who swore to appease the people by using civility and proper procedure above all else. With the appearance of Batman two years into his term however, things were starting to look murky as the polls began showing the people were more interested in a new brand of justice from this faceless newcomer and backroom brawler then his educated ethics. He supported the bat in every which way that he could, all the while stating no official involvement in the matter and instructing the police to allow his assistance as long as he kept his word and refrained himself from stepping on anyone's toes. One of the few times that everyone seemed to be content with the way things were run, but when the mafia became backed into a corner between an overly enthusiastic district attorney, a mayor who was longing for re-election, and a wild card who was beating their men into bloody submission, they called on aid from a man they knew only as "the Joker."
The swath of destruction left five public officials and thirty-seven decorated officers in shallow graves, and Garcia was drug through the mud all the way into impeachment some two months later, leaving with a smile on his face to try and save his reputation but there was an underlying shame in his eyes that you'd have to a fool not to point out. Ambrosia hit the scene as a friend of his from college, who had supported him through and through stating that he had been a faithful mayor, the recent events having been something that would have made a mockery of any political vehicle and off of that stance he planted the seeds of his own career. Vowing the same public relations speech that they all did, but he had spent enough time in the dirtiest streets to have grit and reliance that people were clamoring for, and on election day he took home eighty-seven percent of the votes in a historical landslide. The Joker had meant to show the people of the world that Gotham was an infection underneath the surface that was bubbling up, and that their lives were all just meaningless in the long run for as long as they continued to play along with the secrets of quote en quote "scary people." What he left behind was a crack in the sidewalk, and Harold let the infection sprout back up at the cost of innocent people and the benefit of the drug trade which exponentially served as a weed sprouting from it.
It was just after noon on a Friday, October 30th to be exact, when he had issued the two highest ranking officials of the department to meet him at his office for a standardized status report of the lot of everything that had taken place in the last handful of days, the media had been breathing down his throat ever since it happened and he had spent his night sleeping in to avoid a statement. Both and Melvin and James had arrived a few minutes later then his original orders, but he had a small lunch delivered so he was satiated at the moment, slumped over his desk indulging the urge to eat and attempting as best he could to ignore the urge to fall asleep on his desk using his pastrami sandwich as a pillow. The door creaked open in a hurried precession of footsteps and the two entered his domain and sat down in a fit of belated breath, each of them holding a stack of papers in hand of which he had assumed were him, seeing as after three marriages and three divorces he hadn't felt he was that fortunate. Taking in a heaping mound of pastrami into his mouth with greedy anticipation he motioned for the duo to proceed with their report as he nearly found himself scraping red pepper garlic sauce off of his fine Armani suit, although the two relented for just a moment as they saw a momentary irritation in his eyes as begrudgingly failed to find a napkin to offset the mess he had been making.
"Boys...i'm not in the mood for suspense, now I asked you here for a report on what the fuck is going on out there! What happened at the station? I have every feminist and wannabe Gloria Allred hounding me over an official statement, so you have better brought me something." He barked, halfway through having almost choked on a piece of a half mangled rye bread.
"They used some kind of directed energy weapon, it sent out a pulse which caused paralysis to most of the officers at the station. From our findings at the scene, it seemed as if half of them were somehow immune to the weapon but we don't have any further leads." Gordon had been the first to speak up, while his counterpart sat quietly and let him walk across the fire.
"And the incident at the mall, i'm guessing that you didn't burst in there and give them a what for? Did you, commissioner?" He was snarling at this point, a hellish fire in his as if he was expecting a far better outcome from his finest.
"No sir, at the moment I was off duty sir, I had already gotten all of my paperwork done for the end of the month. With all due respect sir, we didn't exactly have a way of predicting that any of this was going to take place." He tried to reason with a raging bull that just happened to also sign his paychecks, as he had been angrily adjusting his collar.
"Commissioner, you came into this office, and from the moment I saw you approach my desk I could smell alcohol on your clothing. I don't care if you do it on your own time or if you are taking shots with the fucking Delhi Llama, in the midst of everyone that's going on you should have known better then to be intoxicated in a crisis situation. I have already spoken to Melvin about this, and considering the recent losses in senior staff, I am going to have him take your position as of today and you are going to be let go." He hadn't taken his eyes off of James for a second, who right about now was completely speechless and couldn't manage to do more then pan back and forth between the two of them as he soaked in the situation in full. "I'm sorry, James, hand in your gun and your badge."