DEATH IS AN ESCAPE, only a coward accepts death.
Jim Gordon was many things, but not a coward. Over the years Jim had managed many terrible things that he was not proud of, but he has tolerated injustice long enough, and even when he always obeyed the law Jim had limits.
That man is one step closer from coming out…
"Detective Gordon?" was the first thing Gordon heard. Gordon yawned, blinked, and lifted his face from the desk and took a look at a case file he was reading, and then turned to see Nigma's wide expression, one of great amazement. Jim grabbed the file tightly.
"Sit down." A GCPD officer said in the background of Jim's ears.
"Don't move." And another officer had arrived with a new inmate. "Don't touch my face." Argued the fat inmate whose cuffed hands were too tight, "Easy up, man." He proclaimed.
"Shut up," said the cop.
The GCPD was in disorder and chaotic with traffic that day.
"I need my pills. I need my pills." The man who had just arrived into custody kept talking in a mantra.
"You wish." The cop behind him dragged him over to the cells.
"Back, back, come one." The female officer ordered the inmates on the cells to back away as the man continue to chant incoherently.
"WHERE ARE MY PILLS?" The 40's or so man, got loose, shouted, and took over the female officer's pistol, fired a few rounds to the ceiling, and held her at gunpoint. Gun's cocking everywhere and Harvey who was reading the newspaper stared interestedly at how fast Jim Gordon waltz into the action.
"Give me my pills, bitch." The armed assailant whispered to the female officer that he was chocking with his arm.
Jim stopped mid-stairs as a sort of déjà vu hit him; he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Hold your fire!" Gordon yelled, walking down the stairs, "Hold your fire! I got this!" He waltzed into the police crowd, "hold your fire," arms stretch in front of him, "easy, easy," controlling the situation.
"Sir, look at me. Not at them, look at me." Gordon strolled closer as the man grunted.
"My name's Jim. Jim Gordon. What's yours?"
The man tried to answer, but quickly went into his mantra, "I need my pills."
"Everything's gonna be all right."
"Look at me." Gordon gazed at the near desk and grabbed an Aspirin bottle. "I got your pills right here. Huh, you want some pills? Want some pills? All right." Gordon took out an aspirin pill on his free hand. "Here you go, here you go. Here are some pills for you, all right?"
The man took the pill and put it on his mouth, "These aren't my pills."
Gordon used the moment to throw himself at the guy, another déjà vu fell on him and he made a wrong move. Time froze, his body was in shock, he looked down and his white shirt was stained with cherry-red wine, but it couldn't have been wine, he had no memory of even drinking last night, Barbara was at sleep when he came home, and they couldn't even have dinner. Gordon fell on his knees, blinking fast, eyes getting heavier, Gordon heard in the background, "Rookie! Are you alright!?" Harvey's words echoed once but rapidly silenced by the sound of gunfire.
As nice as it sounded, maybe it was a bad decision from the start. Gordon was going to die like his father, like a cop. Jim let the darkness take him away while he felt many hands around him trying to help him, but they were just cutting off his breathing space.
Something echoed on his ears, a name, someone had called him. He yawned, blinked, and lifted his face from the desk and took a look at a case file that lay in front of him, then turned to see Nigma's wide expression, Jim grabbed the file tightly before putting it down and looking back at Harvey who was reading a newspaper.
"Sit down." There it was again, a Gotham City Police Department officials argued in the background, "don't move," another officer had arrived, "don't touch my face," argued the wide inmate who's had his hands too tight to fight back, "Easy up, man," he cried.
"Shut up," said the cop as Gordon got up and walked down the stairs and see that the GCPD was in a chaotic disorder with déjà vu striking again, "I need my pills. I need my pills." The man who had just arrived into custody kept a mantra, Gordon watched closely. "You wish." The cop behind him argued as he dragged him over to the cells.
"Back, back, come one." A female officer ordered the inmates on the cells to back away, as the man continued to chant incoherently, "WHERE ARE MY PILLS?" The 40's or so man, got loose and shouted.
This was something Jim Gordon somehow expected to happen, Jim pushed the female officer aside in time but the man managed to take her firearm, and fired a few rounds to the ceiling before he pointed his gun at Gordon.
Gun's cocking everywhere and Harvey who was reading the newspaper stared interestedly at how Jim Gordon had taken action.
"Rookie, you are one dumb son of a bitch," Harvey whispered.
"Give me my pills, man." The armed assailant told Gordon with trembling hands, Jim stopped moving as a sort of déjà vu hit him again; he raised an eyebrow and tilted his head. "Hold your fire!" Gordon yelled, "Hold your fire! I got this!" He gazed back at the police crowd, "hold your fire," arms above his head, "easy, easy," controlling the situation.
"Sir, look at me. Not at them, look at me." Gordon tried to move away, but the man grunted, so he didn't.
"My name's Jim. Jim Gordon. What's yours?"
The grunting man said, "I need my goddamn pills, pig."
"I'm trying to help you, everything's gonna be all right."
He watched every movement Gordon did up-close, "Look at me." Gordon gazed back at the near desk, "I got your pills right there. Huh, you want your pills? Your pills? All right."
Gordon tried to grab the Aspirin bottle on the desk,
"Stop!" The man shouted.
Gordon ambled to the desk and grabbed out an aspirin pill from the bottle.
"Here you go, here you go. Here are some pills for you, all right?"
The man saw the pill bottle and stared at the pill in Gordon's hand, "Those aren't my pills."
Gordon sprang at the guy, they struggled for control of the gun, when the gun was missed fired as if time itself had frozen, his body was shaken, he looked down and his white shirt covered in blood, not his blood. The adrenaline had kicked in. He was covered in another man's blood. It had been so long since he killed someone. One of the many reasons he left his job in the arm forces.
Distracted, Gordon bend down on his knees, blinking fast, eyes getting heavier, "Rookie! Watch out!" Harvey's Bullock's words were silenced by the sound of gunfire. The man was still alive. Gordon had made a bad call or maybe somehow deep down he knew it was the wrong choice, but the right one. He did not want to kill. Killing another man was supposed to be a cop's last resort.
As Gordon welcomed the darkness he felt different emotions and saw memories that were not his own, yet a man that looked just like him. Hundreds of fragments that he couldn't decipher unlocked in his mind. His breathing space was cut short and dizzied-off.
Gordon heard the echos of his name. Somehow he knew Nigma had woken him up. He yawned, blinked, and lifted his face from the desk. "Ed. Not now." Gordon warned with a finger, and Nigma's wide expression fell flat.
"Sit down." Another déjà vu incoming, almost like a long-lasting dream, Gotham City Police Department officials argued in the background with an assailant. "Shut up," yelled Gordon at the same time the cop did, from the stairs he had the attention of the whole GCPD that was in a chaotic mess.
"I need my pills. I need my pills." The man who had just arrived into custody, Gordon moved closely.
"You wish." Gordon recited alongside the cop that argued as he dragged the prisoner over to the cells.
"Back, back, come one." A female officer ordered the inmates on the cells to back away, as the man continued to chant incoherently.
"Move." Gordon ordered her aside as the 40's or so man, got loose, "WHERE ARE MY PILLS?" he shouted. Gordon gave him a left hook which started a fight, but quickly the cops grabbed them both which led to the man taking the gun from the nearby cop and shooting him. Gordon observed a death that could have been prevented, or rather a death that should not have occurred in the first place. At that point, bullets started coming out everywhere and everything went black.
Jim Gordon was many things, but not a coward. Over the years Jim had managed many terrible things that he was not proud of, but he has tolerated injustice long enough, and even when he always obeyed the law Jim had limits.
That man is one step closer from coming out…
"Detective Gordon?" was the first thing Gordon heard. Gordon lifted his head from the desk and then turned to see Nigma's wide expression, one of great amazement. Jim frowned. It felt like the thousand times he had done this already. He had seen everything, the past, the present, and the future. He was right. Gotham wasn't safe. There was a war coming. And he was the only one that could stop it. One way or another Gordon wasn't going to fail this city.
"Sit down." A GCPD officer said in the background and Gordon sprang to the balcony.
"Don't move." Another officer had arrived with a new inmate. "Don't touch my face." Argued the fat inmate whose cuffed hands were too tight, "Easy up, man." He claimed.
"Shut up," said the cop.
The GCPD was a chaotic disaster.
"I need my pills. I need my pills." The man who had just arrived into custody kept talking in a mantra style.
"You wish." The cop behind him dragged him over to the cells.
"Back, back, come one." The female officer ordered the inmates on the cells to back away as the man continued to chant incoherently.
"WHERE ARE MY PILLS?" The 40's or so man, got loose, shouted, and took over the female officer's pistol, fired a few rounds to the ceiling, and held her at gunpoint. Gun's cocking everywhere and Harvey who was reading the newspaper stared interestedly at how fast Jim Gordon walked down into the action.
"Give me my pills, bitch." The armed assailant whispered to the female officer that he was chocking with his arm.
Jim didn't stop mid-stairs this time, none sort of déjà vu bother him now. "Hold your fire!" Gordon yelled, and amble closer, "Hold your fire! I got this!" He passed by the police crowd, "hold your fire," and took the aspirin bottle, "easy, easy," he had total control of the situation.
"Sir, look at me. Not at them, look at me." Gordon strolled closer as the man grunted.
The man replied, "I need my pills."
"I got your pills right here. Huh, you want some pills? Want some pills? All right." Gordon took thrown the aspirin bottle to the man. "Here you go, you wanted some pills didn't you?"
The man tried to grab the pill bottle letting go of the female officer, "My pills! No!"
Gordon used the moment to throw himself at the guy. Surely, this was meant to be the end of the story, but somehow Gordon got shot again. Once more death had come for him. How many times had Gordon been through this? A hundred times? Thousand times? Maybe he'd never remembered, but he did remember something very important, every moment in his future life.
Something had taken hold of him, his old self. Gordon took the necessary measurements, unsheathed his pistol and shot himself, even that didn't stop it as Gordon got back up on his desk once more.
"Fine," Gordon got up and walked directly with a gun on hand to the root of all of his problems.
"WHERE ARE MY PILLS?"
He raised his eyebrows in a grimace like when the wind blows through an office and you want to run away after been find out; only to come out smiling stupidly and followed with a one-eighty turn. A dark serious tone took over Jim Gordon. He pulled the trigger with no words given.
The body of the man fell alongside the female officer; the other cops had to quickly remove the heavy corpse that felt on top of her. Slowly Jim put his gun away as he walked out in silence.
"What the hell?" Harvey came to intercept him.
"Somebody takes a cop's gun, you shoot him. That's basic." Gordon retorted.
Harvey had many times to say, but his expression said everything.
"Bullock, Gordon, you're up. Double homicide, Theater District." The desk sergeant came in interrupting their conversation.
"Give me a break. Shift nearly over." Bullock demanded.
"Yeah, nearly." Jim Gordon said in parallel to the desk sergeant. Harvey, a bit confused followed behind, as Gordon had already left the GCPD station by then.
The look in Jim Gordon's eyes was one of determination, tiredness and not fucks given.