It seemed taking a few days off wasn't the best of ideas.
Quentin Spacey, killed in his apartment, his intestines removed and baked in his oven. Jeremiah Strong, killed in his house at Gotham Heights, his liver removed and still missing. Now Bartholomew Fairman III found dead in his apartment, both of his kidneys removed and also unaccounted for.
Bruce had copies of the GCPD casefiles lying on the computer console, each open and showing the coroner's report and pictures of the bodies found at their respective crime scenes. He had met each man in passing at various dinner parties, yet he wouldn't go so far as to say they were friends. Acquaintances at best, if you considered they ran in the same circles.
So far the police hadn't determine a person-of-interest, though there was a rather noticeable observation mentioned. Each man currently served on the Elliot Pharmaceuticals board of directors; that was one common link between them. Another, which was not mentioned in the reports, was that each man had cast a vote to remove Tommy Elliot as CEO of the company. However, according to an interview by Bullock of all people, Tommy had been in Philadelphia during these murders with corroborating witnesses. That at least removed his old friend from suspicion.
You're not sorry, Wayne. Not yet.
To say that he and Tommy had parted on less than ideal circumstances would be accurate. In fact, he hadn't heard from his friend since he stormed out of Wayne Enterprises. Bruce was sad to say he hadn't been paying much attention to his friend, but that tended to happen when a psychopathic midget began killing mob bosses.
Still, that connection was there and the vigilante would be foolish to ignore it. The police may have ended their suspicions of Tommy, but the dark-haired man had a much higher standard that needed to be met before he removed a suspect.
As he shifted in his chair, Bruce grimaced. His ribs were still mending, which made some movements rather uncomfortable. There hadn't been much change in the throbbing aches between his leaving and returning to Gotham. The only positive was that he hadn't done anything to exacerbate them, which was something Alfred considered a positive.
Unfortunately, the dark-haired man was questioning the timing of his trip more and more. He was neck-deep in gang wars between Cobblepot and everyone that wasn't on his side, these murders of wealthy Gothamites, and lastly the plans of the mysterious Hush. His obligations be damned, now wasn't the time to take a break. It hadn't been three days ago and it wasn't most definitely now.
Soft footsteps alerted the man to Alfred's approach. "Master Bruce," the older man greeted him.
Bruce nodded his head, not looking at the butler. Instead he raised a few pages of a report in Strong's file. There was some meaning going on with the removal of organs, yet the message was escaping him. Why else would someone go through the trouble of cutting up a body and removing internal organs? Were they trophies? A message? What?
Alfred seemed content to allow the silence to go on as the younger man pondered this line of thinking, but eventually he ended up breaking the moment. "Sir, you do realize it is nearly five in the morning."
"Is it?" Bruce grunted back as he flipped another page.
"It is indeed." There was a crinkling of paper, which caused Bruce to frown. "The morning paper has arrived."
"That can wait," he brushed off.
"I believe you should see it, Master Bruce."
Frowning, the billionaire looked up from the report, turning towards the butler. In the older man's hands was the front page of the Gotham Gazette, a picture of Gordon walking down steps with a couple of men dressed in suits. In bold letters above the picture it proudly proclaimed: COMMISSIONER ON TRIAL.
"What in blazes..." Bruce trailed off as he snatched the newspaper from Alfred and began reading it. "Hearing on alleged bribery charges and...criminal activity?" He could hardly believe it. Tying Gordon's name and being a criminal together seemed wrong somehow. He continued reading out loud, "Allegations stemming from connection to Batman. Hearing before city council in a couple days." He lowered the newspaper and looked to his butler. Alfred returned the look stoically.
"Something's not right." Tossing the paper onto the police files, he began typing on the keyboard, the screen lighting up with activity. Windows popped up, revealing information on the commissioner that he had collected long ago. "I personally looked into Gordon. Most damning thing he had were parking and speeding tickets."
"If I may be so bold, Sir, is it possible that the commissioner is capable of keeping his secrets secret?"
"Of course, but there's nothing in his records that indicate that sort of behavior. If anything, he wouldn't have just been a police sergeant for eight years if that were the case. People that can cover their tracks effectively typically have greater ambition than that. Under Loeb, he would've flourished, not rot away in the same job."
"Perhaps the commissioner realized that character flaw and merely chose to wait. After all, the article does mention photos indicating a close relationship with the former mayor, Hill."
Bruce froze at that. Alfred did make a good argument. Yet in all of his dealings with Gordon, he never came under the impression the man would use such underhanded tactics. He held honesty in himself and the people around him highly, yet was smart enough to know when and if he could bring pressure. Working under someone as corrupt as Loeb taught a man when to stick his neck out, if ever.
But what if Gordon was as sly as Alfred pointed out? It meant that the dark-haired man's judgement of character was flawed and needed a rapid overhaul to correct. His fingers stilled over the keyboard as he consider that thought.
"I believe I need to reinvestigate James Gordon," Bruce finally said, returning to work.
"Having a moment of regret, Sir?" Alfred asked.
"More like calling into question my own judgement. Gordon is either exactly who I think he is, or he's a much better actor than I gave him credit for." At this, Bruce's face hardened. "Either way, I'm going to find out."
Vikki glared at her television screen. It was currently off, so she was looking at a dull reflection of herself sitting on her couch.
Glancing at the telephone, she stared at it as if it offended her. In fact, it was. Bruce Wayne was back in town and he had yet to call her. The damning silence of the electronic device further infuriated her.
The redhead could understand that business took precedence over pleasure. She had had many a deadline where she ignored the world in order to make it, so when Bruce mentioned his obligations to his company, though she was annoyed by it, she understood. However, he said he would call her when he got back and considering that the...ahem...gossip section of the Gotham Star had been riled up about his return yesterday, she figured she would have been one of the first calls he made.
That was currently not the case.
After all of the things she did for him, this is what he did to her. When Bruce was beaten low by every newspaper and media source in the city, she had been there to rebuild his reputation. When he needed help exposing Elliot Pharmaceuticals for their role in the Hagan incident, she was the one that investigated and revealed their evil doings. It was her, it was her! And Bruce Wayne repaid her with silence!
Vikki tore her gaze away from the phone and went back to the television. Why wasn't he calling her? It was well known that the billionaire was allergic to work; he did everything he could to avoid it. So what if he had some out-of-town business meeting, it shouldn't stop him from calling her. Who did he think she was anyway? One of those empty-headed airheads that hung themselves off his arms? Lois Lane? Some woman he could wine and dine and then cast off as if she meant nothing? Like Lane? Hell no! She was Vikki Vale, the number one reporter in the city. That meant something in this town.
The redhead growled. Well then, if he thought he could ignore her, he had another thing coming. She was going to call him and pin him down. They were not finished with one another and she would be damned if he thought he could toss her away like any of the other women he had bedded and turned his nose up at. They had yet to even reach that part!
Snatching up her phone, she dialed in the number for Wayne Manor. It was a well-known number amongst reporters, especially the rookies. When you wanted to make it big in Gotham, you burned up the phone lines to get an interview with Bruce Wayne. If he took a liking to you, you could expect good things to happen to you. She faintly remembered calling the number once every hour for as long as she was awake. Didn't work out for her, but she knew some other, more fortunate ladies that it did.
With the number in, she held the phone receiver to her ear and listened as the familiar ring buzzed. It rang three times, each one shortening the already short fuse she had on her temper. At the end of the third, she heard a click as someone on the other end answered. "You have reached Wayne Manor," a British voice said.
"This is Vikki Vale, Gotham Star," Vikki immediately introduced herself. "I'd like to speak with Bruce Wayne."
"I apologize, but Master Wayne is indisposed of at the moment. Would you like me to relay a message to him?"
The redhead bared her teeth. Oh hell no, she was not going to be relegated to the land of lost messages and voicemails. "You can get me Bruce right now. He said he would call me once he got back from his little vacation and he has yet to call."
She could hear the disapproval in the British man's voice as he said, "The Master is not available at the moment, Miss, and I believe he will be sufficiently occupied for the near future. If you need to get a hold of him, you may try again later, or schedule an appointment with his secre—"
Vikki had had it. "No, I will not make an appointment, just for him to cancel on me."
"Contrary to popular belief, Master Bruce does keep his appointments."
Oh really? Like all of those mayor luncheons he kept canceling? Right in front of her, she might add. If Bruce Wayne would cancel on the mayor of all people, then he would do so on a reporter, no question. "I'm sure he does," she replied with venom in her voice.
"If that is all, I will inform Master Wayne of your call. I bid you good day, Miss Vale."
"Wait! Wait just a second," Vikki cried out. "Just...tell Bruce that he needs to call me. Like now. He and I need to discuss another article."
"Very good, Miss, I will relay the message."
"Thank you."
And with that, the butler hung up the phone, the annoying dial tone blaring into Vikki's ear. With a scowl, the redhead slammed the phone down and nearly shrieked. She knew it. She freaking knew it! Bruce was avoiding her!
That empty-headed billionaire was wrong if he thought he was done with her though. They would be done when she said they were and not a moment before. If he couldn't appreciate all the good works she had done for him, then he could most certainly expect the worst. By the time she was done with him, Wayne Enterprises would be right back where it started before she came to save its ass—no, it would be worse!
A vindictive smirk appeared on Vikki's face. Oh yes, Bruce Wayne had chosen the wrong woman to anger.
It was too stuffy inside, Gordon told himself, and no, he was not gripping the pack of cigarettes that were in his left coat pocket. He just needed to get some fresh air and clear his head. That was all. He was by no means going up to the roof to have a...oh, who the hell was he kidding?
It would be obvious to a ten year old that he was going to have a smoke. He could see the expression of disappointment on Barbara's face, but that wasn't enough to stop him from going ahead with it. Whoever had discovered nicotine should have been locked away for one of those U.N. crimes—crimes against humanity, he thought the name was. Addictive as crap and a habit hard as hell to break.
Couldn't blame anyone other than himself for it, just like this situation with Forbes. The only plus side was with this Forbes fiasco was that he could still blame Vikki Vale for getting him into it in the first place. God damn it, he hated reporters.
There was no gentleness as he shoved the door to the roof open and stomped his way out. Not looking back to see if the door closed behind him, Gordon stared straight ahead for a moment, oblivious to the city before him. His grip tightening on his pack of cigarettes, he spun on his heel and headed to his usual place by the air conditioners; that left him out of sight and able to compose himself before anyone came looking for him.
It was becoming his spot now, he mused. A place all for him to be by himself and try to rebuild any of his mental defenses that were worn away by the simple task of being commissioner. It was a place no friend or enemy could find him. The commissioner didn't have to worry about the world intruding on him as he collected himself, getting ready for the next hits that were undoubtedly coming from him.
Pulling out the pack, he helped himself to a cigarette, flicking on his lighter and lighting up the cancer stick. The rush of nicotine into his lungs was familiar, welcomed yet unwelcomed, soothing and calming to his nerves. He exhaled, letting the smoke steam out from his nose.
Much better.
A small stream of smoke from the cigarette trailed up into the air, but he ignored it in favor of his calming nerves. He took another inhale, shooting the smoke from his mouth this time.
Gordon really needed a break like this, one where he was by himself and undisturbed from all the gossip going around the department. As if it hadn't been hard before, now the whispered rumors of corruption were flying around, gumming up the works that he had tried so hard to clean. He didn't blame them, but it was annoying to hear the whispers and have them stop once his presence was detected.
This wasn't high school anymore, yet it was hard to tell the difference between the two at times.
Gordon paused as he could have sworn he heard the sound of something flapping and...this spot wasn't as private as he thought.
Belatedly, he recalled that this spot was the same exact one that he…
"Here to look into me too?" he spoke aloud, not needing to ask who it was. He already knew who it was.
There was a moment of silence before he heard that familiar gravelly voice, "Should I be?"
"You wouldn't be here unless that's what you were doing." He took another drag on his cigarette. "Can't say that I blame you either."
"Who says I haven't already?"
"Then why are you here?" He glanced up at the caped vigilante for the first time that night, not surprised to see those blank, white eyes boring into him. "I doubt it's a social call."
"Spacey, Strong, and Fairman."
"Now why are you interested in those? All the talk so far has been about me."
"Because there are three dead men and they deserve to have their killer brought to justice." There was a pause. "Besides, I wouldn't be talking to you if I thought you were guilty."
"At least I have one person on my side. Fine, so far all we have is three dead men who all work at the same place with some of their organs missing and parts of their face skinned off. We've only found the intestines of one of the men and that's because they were being cooked in the oven. There's a theory the killer might be a cannibal and is taking the organs to...you know."
"But you don't believe that."
"It makes sense, but why mess up the faces and why take different organs each time?" He took another drag from his cigarette. "The organs might be taken just to throw us off. Or maybe the killer is trying to tell us something, as gruesome as his message may be."
"Connections between the three victims?"
"Only Elliot Pharmaceuticals where they are all board members. They're all rich and all three have made a lot of enemies to get where they were. So far the most recent enemy would have been the former C.E.O., Thomas Elliot."
"Because of his removal from the company."
"Bullock went over there, to the Elliot estate, and questioned him. It was surprising he didn't ask for a lawyer and so far his story is checking out. A hospital visit soon after his dismissal, frequent trips to Philadelphia, it all checks out. We're starting on his staff, the ones at his home and so far we're getting reports of a big move west to Philadelphia, so Gotham is losing one of its favorite sons soon. We're going to have to mark him off the suspect list soon."
The Batman remained silent.
"There is something that bothers me, though. I don't know if it will mean anything to you, but I saw something in the autopsy report. Where the victims were cut open, they were in places where a surgeon would operate on. There wasn't any precision in the cuts, but where the incisions were made and how, they're similar to surgeries. And they were all alive when these cuts were made."
Finally the vigilante said, "I'll take a closer look."
Gordon nodded his head. He figured as much. Bringing his cigarette up, he took another drag.
And then something surprising happen. "I'm sorry about this, Gordon. All of it."
The older man waved it off. "I put myself here. You don't have to apologize for it. You saved my daughter's life and that's all that matters to me. If the same thing happened tomorrow, I'd do it again."
The two of them fell silent then. Gordon found it comfortable, perhaps the first comfortable moment he had in a long time. However, since the two of them were having the closest thing to a heart-to-heart, he had something he needed to get off his chest.
"She has a crush on you, you know," he spoke. He wasn't sure if the Bat was still here or not, but he didn't bother to look, instead choosing to gaze out over the city. "You're all she's been able to think about since then. She thinks I haven't noticed how she's suddenly visiting the station more and more and always finds a reason to go up onto the roof."
Gordon let out a sigh. "I thought you should know, since you saved her. To know what's going on with someone you saved."
When he heard no response, he knew he was alone. That all changed when he heard, "Thank you."
The commissioner jerked his head towards the vigilante, finding him still perched on the A/C unit. It was surprising to say the least. It took him a moment to recover, but when he did, he added, "I can't say I'm too thrilled about it, but I suppose it could be worse. She could actually like one of the boys from her school."
Gordon chuckled then. "I guess I won't have to worry about that happening."
There was a pregnant pause, one that as comfortable as the previous one. It ended when the Batman said, "If anything happens, I'll look after her."
"Hopefully it won't come to that. I plan to stick around and embarrass her around her friends for years to come—unless Forbes gets his way. I swear that man has something against me." He flicked away his cigarette, no long in the mood for it. If he needed to, he could light another one even if it would make Barbara even more disappointed in him.
"He probably does."
"It would be nice to know what it is." The older man snorted. "Knowing him from what 'little' interaction I've had with him, he probably wouldn't give it up anyway. Sometimes I think he would have been better off born as a bulldog. His looks wouldn't change either way."
He shook his head as the image of a hybrid Forbes combined with a bulldog overtook all his thoughts. Actually he was uglier than he thought.
When he didn't receive a response, he looked to the A/C unit and wasn't surprised to find the vigilante gone. That was a first, the lack of surprise. If this was their last meeting, he found he could live with it. It was a nice feeling to have.
Stepping away from the A/C units, he made his way back to the roof entrance where he found, shock and surprise, a certain someone nosing around.
"Looking for me again?" he called out to the small form of his daughter, who jumped and looked up at him almost guiltily. He already knew why she was up here and for whom. For now it was cute, but as she got older, hopefully she'd grow out of it.
"Oh! Er, yeah, I was! Where were you?" the girl picked up on his prompt quickly, but it was obvious that she wasn't telling the truth. He'd let her think she had him fooled, otherwise she might become a better liar.
"Making sure my daughter didn't get into any trouble up here. There's a lot of important equipment up here." He placed a hand on the smaller shoulder, squeezing it gently.
"Right, there's a lot of important things up here," Barbara deadpanned. "There's a huge space over there with nothing on it. Is there air there so important that you can't risk anyone breathing it?"
"And when did you get so sarcastic? I don't remember teaching you that." Gordon began steering her towards the door. "Have you been spending too much time with your mother?"
"You know the answer to that," the girl answered sourly. Whether it was for the fact that she did not want to talk about that subject, or that she wasn't going to be seeing her little crush this night, he didn't know and wasn't going to press further into it.
He had a lot of other things on his plate.