Chapter 3: The rest of the morning and a conversation
Around the same time Lieutenant James Gordon was wrapping up his appointment with Commissioner Loeb, over at the northern outskirts of Gotham City in neighbouring Kane County, 25-year old Bruce Wayne had pulled up to the main yard of Wayne Manor, where he was greeted by Alfred.
"Alfred." Bruce smiled as he stepped out of the car.
Alfred nodded. "I trust that you've been well, Master Bruce."
"I have." Bruce nodded back as he turned towards the manor.
Wayne Manor. Built as a fortress generations past, to protect a fading line of royalty from an age of Equals. Bruce observed before he placed his hand on Alfred's shoulder.
Exhaling as he takes in the familiar sight of the manor, Bruce sighed. Mother. Father. It's good to be back.
After taking in his moment, Bruce turned back towards the car as Alfred walked over to the trunk.
"Allow me to help you with my luggage, Alfred." Bruce said as he walked over to join Alfred.
Listening to these politicians making promises they sure as h*ll can't keep makes my stomach turn, and that's on top of it trying to digest itself for the past hour. Jim thought to himself bitterly as he, Flass, Deputy Chief Vane and a few investigators flanked Loeb as he briefs the press on the latest Birthday Boy-related disappearance outside police headquarters.
"And I can assure you, ladies and gentlemen, that Gotham's Finest are doing everything they can to catch the perpetrator and put him behind bars, where he rightfully belongs." Loeb was speaking, during which he gestured towards Jim and the investigators. "As a matter a fact, the task force has received a wonderful addition from Chicago, who could provide much-needed input on the latest disappearance."
Glancing towards Vane and Flass, Jim's frown deepened. So much for being a cop when Loeb's wasting his breath - and our time - by having us here as window-dressing in front of the press.
Loeb then motioned towards Deputy Chief Vane as he said, "Deputy Chief Vane would answer your questions now."
Jim merely darted his eyes towards Vane as he replaced Loeb on the podium before proceeding to field questions from the press.
"I gotta say, that's one h*ll of a way to start your first day back in Gotham, Jimmy." Flass spoke a few minutes later when they were on the road, en route to the forensic sciences lab located across town.
At present, the forensic lab at Gotham Central is undergoing a major refit for the installation of new technology and a computerized system that could provide additional insight to the evidence collected at the crime scenes, so as such, Jim and Flass had to travel across town to visit the lab at its interim offices.
"First day back and already, those d*mn vultures in the media are putting your moves under a magnifying glass." Flass continued.
"Won't I know it." Jim replied. "Though I have to admit I was a bit impressed with the way Deputy Chief Vane handled those questions."
"Yeah, I had a feeling you'd like him, Jimmy." Flass said as he took a sip from his bottle of cream soda. "Though you don't wanna get too close to him unless you intend to go soft."
Jim frowned as he lit up a cigarette. "What do you mean by that, Flass?"
"Oh, take it from me, Jimmy." Flass shrugged. "Just like the rest of the brass, Vane's just an opportunist who's more interested in advancing his own career and climbing to the PC's office, or at the very least, make it to chief, than actually making a d*mn difference here in the streets, on top of caring less about who actually runs 'em."
Jim snorted. "Aren't they all?"
Flass chuckled. "Knew you'd be a good fit with us, Jimmy."
"Yeah, well, anyways, care to brief me on what we have so far on the latest disappearance, Flass?" Jim asked.
Before Jim could get a reply out of Flass, the detective suddenly slammed on the brakes, causing Jim's cigarette to flew out from his mouth.
When Flass shifted the car to park and got out, Jim frowned as he got out of the car and demanded, "Flass, what's-"
"Nothing I can't handle solo, Jimmy." Flass replied as he approached a group of four teenagers solicitating near a snow-covered dumpster, where he settled his sights onto the boy in the middle.
The boy in question paled at the sight of Flass, who demanded, "Mother know you're here instead of at school, Stevie?"
"Oh, f**k..." Stevie muttered as he bolted, only for Flass to grab him by the shoulder and slammed him onto the nearby wall.
As Flass punched him in the chin, Stevie protested as he tried to say, "...not doin' anyth-"
Watching Flass cut the boy off, the frown on Jim's face deepened.
I keep talking to myself. This time I say you'd better gather up all your facts before you take down another fellow officer, especially in public. Jim thought to himself as he observed Flass beating and humiliating the boy, all while the boy's friends looked on in fear, not sure if it'd be wise for either one of them to intervene.
Green Beret training, and he sure knows how to use his size. Jim observed, his frown deepening as he watched Flass dump the boy in a nearby dumpster. I watch and I don't do a d*mn thing and I memorize every move.
Then, watching Flass finished with the boy, Jim thought, For future reference.
Jim was already seated in the front passenger seat in the car when Flass returned, which prompted the lieutenant to demand, "Was that necessary?"
"Had this little beauty in his pocket, not to mention skipping school." Flass responded as he tossed the object in question to Jim.
Jim frowned as he opened the object, which appeared to be a switchblade, though it turned out to be a comb.
As Flass started the engine, Jim turned towards him and said, "It's a comb, Flass."
Flass merely shrugged it off as he shifted the car into drive and said, "I'm only human."
Jim snorted but didn't say anything else on the matter. Several more minutes of silence followed before Flass said, "Either way, you said anything about the latest disappearance, Jimmy?"
"Yeah. What have we got?" Jim demanded.
"Oh, just the usual." Flass replied. "Window opened from the outside of the victim's bedroom, and birthday candles were found on the victim's pillow."
"Same hallmarks from the previous Birthday Boy-related disappearances?" Jim prompted.
"Yes indeed." Flass nodded. "Which suggests a pattern and hallmarks of a serial kidnapper at work."
"Of course it does." Jim nodded. "How long has the victim been missing?"
"Since Saturday." Flass replied. "She didn't get out of bed the following morning, and her parents became concerned when she failed to turn up by the time it was lunch, so they went to her room to investigate and found the birthday candles on the pillow."
Jim felt his insides tightening. "And you think the lab should have the prints."
"That's what we're about to find out." Flass replied. "However, I wouldn't get my hopes up about them, not when the candles from the previous four disappearances yielded nothing useful."
"As in we could be looking at someone whose prints aren't in the system." Jim stated. "Besides forced abduction of the victims from their bedrooms and the birthday candles, do we have any other connections between each of the disappearances?"
"Yes." Flass nodded. "From the photos provided by the parents of each of the victims, they all bear resemblance to a debutante named Amanda Grant, who disappeared five years ago."
"And let me guess: Amanda Grant was never found." Jim surmised.
Flass smiled. "You know, we could really make a great team together, Jimmy."
Jim only grunted. "Let's see what the forensics lab has to say on the candles from the latest scene."
Flass nodded, though even as Jim made the remark, he knew there is a very good chance they are grasping at straws.
G*dd*mnit. Jim grumbled as he lit up another cigarette. We might be spinning our wheels on this. Not even a full day back in Gotham and already, the reality of this place being a stinkin' h*llhole has pierced right through my bulletproof vest.
Meanwhile, over at Wayne Manor, Bruce wasted no time helping Alfred in getting his luggage settled.
After finishing with the luggage, Bruce spent the rest of the morning meditating in front of his parents' tombstones in quiet contemplation.
By the time Jim was shown to his new office in the Major Crimes Unit squadroom, it was already lunchtime and at Flass' suggestion, he headed down to the cafeteria for lunch.
As he looked at the menu behind the counter, a voice behind him said, "Honestly, you of all people should have known by now that the food here is crap, but then I remembered that you just got back from Chicago."
Jim turned around at that remark, and he raised an eyebrow when he realized that he was staring at none other than Officer Max Eckhardt, who has four service stripes on his sleeve, indicating his 20 years of service.
"Officer Max Eckhardt." Jim said. "It's been a while."
"Indeed it has been." Eckhardt nodded. "Word got around fast, and I see you've been made lieutenant. I suppose some congratulations are in order, along with a welcome back."
The officer then extended his hand to Jim, though the lieutenant didn't take it.
"I appreciate the welcome back, Officer." Jim said. "You still assigned to the 11th?"
"That, I am, Gordon." Eckhardt replied. "Not that I envy your position, having to take charge of a task force investigating those disappearances that has been the non-stop focus from those vultures in the media."
Jim exhaled. "So what brings you here?"
"Oh, only that the chief needs to hear my game plan for the upcoming contract negotiations with the city." Eckhardt snorted. "As President of the Gotham Patrolman's League, I won't stand by and allow the city to trample on the voices of 25000 officers as they see fit, especially when the Mayor is nothing more than a f**king turncoat who hates police and is only using the police reform platform to buy votes."
In mentioning the mayor, Eckhardt was referring to Mayor Clarence O'Leary, who was first elected three years prior under a platform of rethinking law enforcement, all as law enforcement agencies across the country continued to face criticism for their heavy-handed law enforcement tactics.
In particular, the Gotham City Police Department was singled out as among the worse offenders when it comes to civil liberties violations, especially towards the city's largely-impoverished black and Latino communities.
Ongoing militarization of police, coupled with the heavy-handed crackdown on drugs, as part of the costly War on Drugs, and hostile relations with the black and Latino communities, were among the targets of criticism, criticism that became more inflamed in light of the 1992 Los Angeles Riots.
Naturally, O'Leary would take opportunity of the trend and campaign on a platform of improving police accountability, reversing the militarization and restoring community policing and other reforms, a platform that was instrumental in his election as Mayor in 1994.
Upon taking office, O'Leary wasted no time implementing his campaign promises. Among his first acts was to slash the police overtime budget and impose a procurement freeze on heavy weapons and equipment.
O'Leary's continued targeting of the elite weapons teams of the department made him a target of Eckhardt's criticisms, and the administration and the police unions frequently clashed on law and order matters.
However, O'Leary's decision to limit the scope of reforming the GCPD's civilian watchdog, which was charged with oversight, on top of other budget freezes that slowed down the rollout of his promised community policing programs, made him unpopular with advocates for police reform and accountability.
His decision to impose a hiring freeze and budget crunch to the Gotham Metropolitan Transit, which prompted the agency to defer what was already urgent maintenance work and reduce services, also didn't help matters, especially when the savings achieved were diverted to flashy, pork barrel projects.
On top of all of that, he was also accused of favouritism, especially in rewarding primary campaign backers with major projects, and there were rumours that he had solicitated kickbacks from the mob, just like the typical corrupt city officials he had campaigned to clean out.
Of course, being Gotham City, there was not much evidence to support the allegations, owing to the mob's effectiveness of intimidating and silencing critics, and even with his approval ratings taking a dip, O'Leary has already declared his intention to run for a second term in the following year's election.
"So I've gathered." Jim remarked. "Heard about the proposed cuts to the police budget, so it sounds like you've got some work cut out for you."
"Yeah, well, part of the problem is the Mayor and those politicians think they know a d*mn thing about policing and folds under the pressure of those citizens lobby groups, those that think they know everything." Eckhardt scoffed. "Not to mention those meddling know-it-alls are pushing for the Mayor to go after the Rapid Response Unit and cut funding to it."
"Sounds like the Special Operations Bureau Chief would complain about it as well." Jim said.
"Indeed he would. In fact, First Assistant Chief Rojas was the one who transformed the RRU into the elite powerhouse we know today, and those proposed cuts would definitely not fly with him." Eckhardt said. "In particular, I shudder to think how bad things will go should those idiots cut off funding to the Quick Response Team."
Jim nodded in recognition of Rojas' name, and while he couldn't recall the exact circumstances that saw him meeting Rojas in person the first time, he knew it was from before his transfer to Chicago.
It might have been while he and Laney were working on a case and required backup from the Quick Response Team, of which the then-Lieutenant Angel Rojas commanded, for the take down of the suspect.
He also remembered not being impressed with the way the case went down, as a result of the trigger-happy QRT killing the suspect during the take down, though Laney didn't even seem bothered one bit by the way the case ended.
Given the way Chief Lewis and Commissioner Loeb are, I really shouldn't be surprised that trigger-happy Lieutenant Angel Rojas is now the First Assistant Chief commanding the Special Operations Bureau. Jim thought. On top of him being the deputy chief that commanded the RRU prior to his current position.
After exhaling, Jim decided to change the channel and asked, "So how's Weaver?"
"Oh, he left the force last year, and you wouldn't believe where he's at." Eckhardt replied, prompting Jim to raise an eyebrow.
"Where?" Jim prompted.
"He's head of the Mayor's security detail." Eckhardt sneered. "Can you believe that? Leaving us to work for that turncoat?"
"Can't imagine." Jim shrugged.
"Yeah, that's the problem with those elites like that Mayor." Eckhardt said. "Always thinks he knows what's going on in this city, thinks he knows a d*mn thing about the desperation that's on the streets and thinks he's exempt from practicing what he preaches, just like those Wayne losers that got what's coming for them."
Jim's facial expression remained neutral at the mention of the Waynes, though he tensed inward.
H*ll, I am looking right at the man that pulled the trigger that fateful night. Jim thought about the promise he made to the young Bruce all those years ago. The fact Eckhardt's not only still on the force but is also now the president of the d*mn union speaks volumes.
"I presume there were no further leads on the primary suspect's whereabouts?" Jim asked as he decided to play along.
"Must've bailed out of town right after realizing what he's done." Eckhardt shrugged. "Frank's been meaning to contact the feds and have him subjected to a nation-wide arrest warrant, but he hasn't had a chance to get to that after what you did to him."
Yeah, well, more like it was easy for Frank to pin the murders on the scapegoat and conveniently use what I had to do as a diversion. Jim thought but didn't say out loud.
Instead, the lieutenant said, "Well, can't say I'm sorry that Frank was unwilling to amend his search warrant that day."
"Yeah, well, you'll be pleased to hear that Frank pulled the pin not long after you were transferred." Eckhardt scoffed. "Last I heard, he's building code inspector in some small town down south in Mississippi."
Jim nodded thoughtfully before glancing at the nearby clock and said, "Either way, I'm certain you don't wanna be running late for your meeting with the chief."
"Of course." Eckhardt nodded before he proceeded to take his leave. "It's good to see you back in Gotham, Lieutenant. On that note, watch your back if you wanna get far in this town."
Jim inhaled before he replied to Eckhardt's retreating back. "I'll be sure to take that under advisement."
Once Eckhardt was gone, the lieutenant sighed and shook his head.
More like I am definitely in the boiler room of H*ll for my sins. Jim thought to himself bitterly.
It took the smell of the grease from the cafeteria's kitchen for Jim to realize that he had lost his appetite.
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