Hello! I hope you all had a happy New Year. I'm glad I finally got this finished, as I've been eagerly anticipating this part of the story for months. Also, we're officially done with Arkham Origins, and it's only a matter of time before we move on to Cold, Cold Heart. Thank you for sticking with me so far; I honestly didn't expect this story to get as much traction as is has, and the thought that you guys actually look forward to each update is really what gives me the motivation to write as fast and as best as I can. As usual, please review because I love hearing your thoughts, and I'll see you all in the next chapter!
Christmas morning was unusually peaceful in Gotham City. The chaos of the night before had faded to a lull, allowing the citizens of that metropolis to go about their holiday plans as they'd originally intended before the actions of the Joker and his hired assassins brought into question whether there would even be a Christmas Day to celebrate. All across the city, children were opening presents, parents were frantically cleaning in anticipation of their in-laws' arrivals, and, if only temporarily, it was as if the terrible events of Christmas Eve had never even happened at all. It was in this unusual moment of peaceful normalcy that Laura Anderson could be found curled up in bed, sound asleep and blissfully unaware of anything beyond her world of dreams.
That is, until she was rudely dragged awake by the shrill ringing of her phone.
Without even bothering to check whom was calling, she rolled towards her night table and yanked her phone off the charger, pressing it up to her ear and only just remembering to press the small green button on the screen to accept the call.
"Anderson speaking," She muttered groggily into the microphone.
"Merry Christmas to you too, sis. Don't you sound fantastic?"
"Jesus fucking Christ, Chris," The brunette groaned, rolling onto her back and blearily glaring up at her bedroom ceiling. "It's not even ten o'clock!"
As she grumbled to herself at her loss of a sleep-in morning, Laura could hear her brother cackling on the other end. "Uh huh, that's why I called. Most people don't sleep in till the crack of noon."
"They do when they don't get home from work until five in the morning." She grumbled petulantly.
"Yeah, I caught some of that on the news this morning." Chris said, most likely making himself breakfast if the clanking noises emanating through the speaker were any indication. "Dad did, too."
Laura's head dropped back to the pillow with a groan. "Well, fuck."
"Fuck indeed," Chris agreed.
David Anderson was the type of man who put being a good father before everything else. Neither of the Anderson siblings could ever recall a baseball game, shooting competition, or piano recital that he did not attend, nor did a PTA meeting go by in which David was not in attendance. His devotion to the well-being of his children only increased after his divorce, fully intending on filling the role of both parents for his young son and daughter. He had always encouraged his children to follow their dreams, and had repeatedly assured them both throughout their childhoods that he would support their decisions, no matter what they chose as their path in life.
That being said, David had not taken it well at all when his eldest child expressed her desire to join the most notoriously corrupt police force in the history of the United States.
"Should I be expecting a lecture later?" Laura sighed, getting up out of bed and making her way to the small kitchen in her apartment.
"You might have actually lucked out this time," Chris told her as she turned a knob on the stove, turning on the burner underneath where her newly-filled teapot rested. "Dad's mostly blaming the FBI; says none of it would have ever happened if they'd kept better track of hired killers. You'll probably just get the "I'm-Glad-You're-Safe-But-Make-Sure-To-Keep-It-That-Way Talk."
"I heard that, Christopher." Another voice filtered through the phone, followed by her brother cursing under his breath. The sound of the phone changing hands could be heard before the other voice spoke again.
"Laura?"
"Merry Christmas, Dad." The brunette yawned, fishing a tea bag out of the small box resting on her countertop. "And before you ask, yes, I'm fine."
"Good." David sighed, his relief palpable. Then, almost as an afterthought, "And Captain Gordon?"
"Alive and well." Laura told him. "He's Acting Commissioner until Hill appoints a replacement for Loeb."
"Best of luck to him," She heard her father mutter under his breath.
The sergeant chocked back a laugh. "He's going to need it."
David sighed. "I don't suppose I could persuade you to come up for a few days?"
"'Fraid not," Laura said, lifting the teapot off the stove and pouring the now-boiling water into a mug. "After last night, the whole department's going to have to do overtime. I'm on-call until further notice."
David let out a defeated sigh. "Well, I hope you can come over soon. Getting out of the city for a while would do you some good."
"I'll visit as soon as things settle down around here," Laura assured him.
"I'll hold you to it. Love you, kiddo."
"Love you too, Dad." Laura said, shaking her head slightly at the nickname.
She heard a small click, signaling the end of the call, and put the phone down, sipping her tea and taking a look at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. It was just after nine, and she knew she didn't have to be at work until four, but it was pointless to go back to bed. Draining the last dregs of her tea from the mug, Laura meandered her way to the bathroom for a shower, dreading the mountain of paperwork she knew was waiting for her.
-VI-
Two hours later, Laura found herself attempting to put a dent in the obscene amount of paperwork sitting on her desk, only half-paying attention to McKenzie's attempt to fill her in on that morning's goings-on.
"…And it wouldn't be that big of a deal, but just about everyone in city leadership is compromised now."
That got Laura's attention, head snapping up to look at the blonde detective leaning against her desk, attempting to make his way through a report of his own. "Wait, what? When did that happen?"
"Early this morning," He told her, nodding his head towards the stairs leading to the lower floors of the building. "Eddie Nashton ended up being on Black Mask's payroll. Well, the Joker's, actually. Apparently he's been collecting data for months about nearly every official in the city, and leaked it to the media about six o'clock this morning. Now, there are protesters outside City Hall calling for Hill's resignation and half the city council's under investigation. There was a ton of stuff on Loeb too, and enough about Grogan's connections to the Maroni family that he turned in his resignation this morning, effective immediately."
"Eddie Nashton?" Laura asked, brow furrowing. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but she couldn't quite place it.
"He made head of Cyber Crimes a few months back," McKenzie supplied.
The sergeant thought for a minute, trying to put a face to the name. Cyber hadn't been a division she'd ever had a reason to visit much, and despite working in the GCPD for the better part of a decade, she'd only ever met a handful of its members.
"Not the snotty guy with the glasses?"
"That's him," The blonde affirmed.
Laura had only interacted with Nashton a handful of times, but it'd been more than enough for her. She recalled the way he'd sneered at everyone around him, an air of (Undeserved, in Laura's opinion) superiority about him wherever he went. The few times she'd made her way down to Cyber, the sergeant had noted the way he'd snap at the others in his department, berating them for not accomplishing their work fast enough for his liking or not to the caliber he preferred, holding them to seemingly-impossible standards that evidently only he himself could meet. If that wasn't enough to sour her opinion of him, Laura could swear the last time she'd visited, he'd called her a mindless brute under his breath as she'd left.
"Christ, that guy was an ass. Well, Grogan won't be commissioner now, at least. That's something to look forward to."
McKenzie let out a huff of laughter and scurried to his desk as he saw Conway walk into the bullpen, likely to avoid a lecture from the captain, leaving the sergeant to her paperwork. With a sigh, she dove back in, letting out a silent prayer that today's work was the worst to come, though she sincerely doubted that would be the case.
A loud knock on her office door pulled her attention away from her work about an hour and a half later, just as she had gotten about a quarter of the way through her reports. She called for the visitor to enter, still not looking up from her papers, and only spared the figure entering her office a glance once they'd come within two feet of her desk.
When she did finally look up, the brunette nearly dropped her pen.
Standing before her was quite possibly one of the most handsome men Laura had ever seen. He cut an impressive figure, nearly six and a half feet tall with broad shoulders and a fit build that just about any man would kill for. The man had a head of thick dark hair, high aristocratic cheekbones and a jawline that could cut glass, to say nothing of the pair of strikingly bright blue eyes fixed on her that Laura couldn't help but find familiar. He was decked out in a three-piece suit that the sergeant was sure was worth more than her yearly salary, with an expensive-looking black leather trench coat draped over one arm.
Though the sheer attractiveness of this man was certainly more than enough reason to catch her attention, it wasn't, in fact, what had shocked her. What had was his familiarity, having seen his figure often adorning the covers of the celebrity gossip magazines she'd frequently seen Montoya reading and advertisements for his company all across the city, though it had been nearly twenty years since she'd seen the man in person.
Standing before her was Bruce Wayne.
Thankfully, her moment of shock had only lasted a fraction of a second, and she quickly schooled her face into a mask of professionalism before he could notice her momentary lapse.
"Can I help you, sir?"
Wayne shot her a smile. "I'm looking for a Detective Driver? He called my office and said he'd like to speak with me."
Laura paused for a minute, trying to come up with what Driver would want with the billionaire standing in her office. She recalled Driver was assigned to a double-homicide in Park Row; Just the night before, multi-millionaire CEO Horace Riley and his socialite fiancée Clarissa Rodriguez had been gunned down by Ian Chase, Rodriguez's ex-lover whom was currently sitting in lockup over in Old Gotham. The bodies had been found in Crime Alley, only…
Only ten feet from where the Waynes were murdered, her brain finally supplied.
Nodding, she motioned for him to follow her. "Detective Driver isn't in right now, but his partner is."
Leading him down into the bullpen, Laura stopped in front of one of the desks, behind which sat a pretty blonde whom was looking increasingly frustrated with her computer. "Mr. Wayne, this is Detective Rachel Fey. Fey, this is Bruce Wayne. Driver called him about the Park Row case?"
Laura saw Fey's eyebrows skyrocket towards her hairline before recovering, standing up and quickly offering the man a hand to shake. "Y-yes. Uh, if you'll please sit, Mr. Wayne, we've just got a few questions for you."
Leaving her to it, Laura returned to her office and started back on the mountain of paperwork still waiting for her. It wasn't long before another knock sounded at her door, and when she looked up, Barbara stood in the place Wayne had only minutes before.
"How'd you manage to get stuck here two days in a row? And on Christmas, no less." Laura teased.
The redhead shrugged, plopping herself down into the chair in front of Laura's desk and pulling out her laptop. "Dad has to be here until late tonight anyway, so there was no point being at home by myself. At least here I can poke around in stuff."
Looking over the teenager's shoulder to check that the door to her office was firmly shut, Laura leaned forward. "Speaking of, how did that business with our, ah, new friend go last night?"
Barbara smirked, looking up at her from behind the laptop screen. "Everything's taken care of. Penguin's stuck with six crates full of useless weapons, all thanks to the Batman."
Taking in Barbara's pointed look, Laura rolled her eyes at the teenager and let out a small huff of laughter. "Fine, fine, I'll say it; you were right and I was wrong. If I hadn't taken your advice last night, things would have gone a lot worse than they did. Happy?"
The redhead shot her a cheeky grin. "Very."
Laura shook her head and went back to her paperwork, though she couldn't quite keep a smile off her face. Out of her peripherals, she saw Barbara glance through the small window fixed in her office door and peer down towards the bullpen.
"Any particular reason the Prince of Gotham is sitting in the middle of your department?"
"Not that it's any of your business," Laura answered, not bothering to look up from her work, "And mind you, the only reason I'm even telling you is because I know if you really want to know you'll hack the computers anyways, but Driver called him here. Thinks he might be able to fill in some of the blanks on a double homicide on Park Row last night."
Barbara frowned. "The one with that CEO and his fiancée, right? He knew them?"
"Couldn't tell you, honestly," Laura shrugged, "It's Driver's case. Wouldn't surprise me though; there aren't that many people in Gotham in that tax bracket. Makes one's social circle a bit limited, I imagine."
A moment of silence passed, and Laura thought Barbara had dropped the issue, before…
"Huh. He's pretty hot, though."
Laura let out a snort of laughter, and Barbara shot her a look. "What? You don't think so?"
"Oh, he's hot," Laura agreed. "Just not much else."
"What," The redhead teased, "You don't think he's got a thoughtful mind and a heart of gold under all that Armani?"
"I mean," The brunette laughed, "That if half of what Montoya's told me from her Gotham Insider subscriptionis true, the man's so shallow I could stand in a puddle of him and not get my feet wet. Not even Adonis could make up for that."
"Ouch, harsh." Barbara grinned. "Not your type, then?"
"Definitely not."
-VI-
Two weeks ago, if anyone had told Chuck McClary that he'd be looking to join up with Penguin's gang, he'd have told them they were insane. He had a steady job, a wife who depended on him, and a baby on the way, he'd tell them, and he wasn't about to jeopardize all that by getting involved with Cobblepot and his lot. He wasn't his good-for-nothing brother-in-law, after all.
Then again, two weeks ago he hadn't known the owner of the small hat shop in which he worked was secretly a serial killer, and unlike two weeks ago, he was now unemployed with a wife who depended on him and a baby on the way. It's funny, he thought to himself, how much things can change in such a short amount of time.
"Come on, Chuckie! Mr. Cobblepot ain't got all night!"
Kieran, said good-for-nothing brother-in-law, threw one arm around his shoulders, hurrying him along the docks lining the east side of Amusement Mile, as if sensing Chuck's sudden hesitation. The man led the two a bit further down the docks, his easy swagger in stark contrast to his companion's nervous demeanor, until the pair arrived in front of a large black ship, huge white letters painted on the side announcing its notorious name to all within sight.
The Final Offer.
"Ease up, will 'ya Chuckie? Christ, you're making me nervous!" Kieran laughed, slapping his brother-in-law on the back before leading him up the gangplank and onto the deck of the ship. "Now, just follow my lead and you'll be fine. Mr. Cobblepot's looking for a bunch 'a new guys for somethin' big, and with the Bat fuckin' everything up, he ain't got the luxury 'a being picky. So long as ya don't do somethin' stupid, you'll be bringing home a big, fat paycheck in no time!"
The two made their way through the bowels of the ship, taking more than a few detours to avoid the many corridors that were flooded with seawater. After what seemed like an eternity, the pair emerged in a large, arena-shaped room packed to the brim with men Chuck thought looked more appropriate in a prison yard than on the streets of Gotham. Shooting his brother-in-law a wink, Kieran pushed his way through the crowd towards the other end of the room, leaving Chuck alone.
After a few minutes milling about and trying desperately not to be noticed, the room's attention was grabbed by a small, hunched man appearing on the balcony overhead. A roar of approval emanated from the gathered crowd, eager to get the meeting started, and the appearance of their employer signaling that their wish was soon to come true.
"All right, settle down, you lot! We've got a lot 'a work to do, and not 'a lot of time to do it." Penguin snapped, his accented voice carrying across the arena. "After the fiasco we got landed in last night, somebody started rumors that we were down an' out. That some wanker in a clown costume could get the best 'a us! Ha! A load 'a shite if I every 'eard it. No lads, what we got is an opportunity on our 'ands! With Black Mask gone, ain't nobody in our way from takin' over Gotham 'cept the Bat, and all we need to put 'im in the ground is an edge."
Penguin shot the crowd a nasty grin. "An' I got just the thing."
Booming footsteps sounded from behind the gathered group, and the whole room promptly turned at the sound. A murmur went through the crowd, ranging from exclamations of surprise to shocked cursing to muted awe. With slight hesitation, Chuck turned around to see what had caused such a fuss, and froze in terror at the sight. Struck with the realization of just how far in over his head he was, the former hat-maker's vision blurred as he suddenly began to feel woozy.
The last thing Chuck saw before he fainted was a pair of glowing red eyes.
-VI-
"…And in other news, prominent political activist Quincey Sharp has begun lobbying the Gotham City Council for funds to reopen Arkham Asylum. First making his plans known last night on The Jack Ryder Hour, Sharp's move has been met with overwhelming support from Gotham's citizens, many of whom, like Sharp, have serious doubts about the capabilities of Blackgate Penitentiary to hold Gotham's most dangerous criminals following the two prison riots that took place on Christmas Eve. The Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, more commonly referred to as Arkham Asylum, opened in 1921 and remained in operation until fifteen years ago, when it was closed due to the deinstitutionalization policies adopted by the city council, with all convicted criminals then being incarcerated into Blackgate Penitentiary. Estimates for the cost of renovating and reopening the asylum…"
Laura was only partially paying attention to the news, most of her attention fixed on the half-dozen chicken cutlets frying in the pan before her. Checking them one last time to make sure they were thoroughly cooked, Laura scooped the cutlets out of the pan and stacked them onto a nearby plate, watching as the grease from the cutlets soaked into the paper towel underneath. The brunette took the plate from the counter and placed it on the adjacent breakfast bar, leaving the cutlets to cool for a moment while she made her way to her bedroom to change.
Laura quickly shed her work clothes and tossed them into her hamper, redressing herself in her customary sleepwear of sweatpants and an oversized tee-shirt. As she did, the sergeant noticed her clothes from the previous day strewn across her bedroom floor, as she'd been far too tired to bother with putting them away. Letting out a huff, Laura scooped them up and made to throw them in the hamper; she knew that if she didn't do it now, she'd end up putting it off until they hadn't moved for two weeks. As she picked her discarded jeans off the floor and threw them towards the wicker basket in the corner of the room, she noticed a small, shiny object fall out of one of the pockets and land on the floor. Frowning, Laura picked up the object to inspect it, and recognized it instantly.
The flashdrive from the Park Row Sewage Plant.
The little object was much the same as she'd seen it only the night before, its bright metallic red surface still merrily reflecting the light, no worse off than it had been when she'd plucked it out of the wreckage of Bane's computers. Laura frowned at the little device, having forgotten she'd even picked it up, silently debating on what to do with it. Technically, just being in the possession of the flashdrive was withholding evidence, and even with Gordon as Acting Commissioner, it could cost Laura her badge if anyone found out. That being said, if whatever was on the drive somehow involved Bane, shouldn't someone at the GCPD take a look at it?
"Leave another assassin for us in there?"
"No."
The memory of her short meeting with Batman outside the sewage plant flashed back to her, and Laura recalled the angry, almost enraged look on the vigilante's face as he stormed out of the plant. Something down there had upset him, and at the time she'd thought it was another failed assassination attempt. But now…
Now it doesn't make sense, Laura thought to herself. The Joker's plan all along was to lure Batman to Blackgate to kill Bane, and Bane had known that. He wouldn't have confronted him in the sewage plant, and there was no point in rigging the computer to blow if he wasn't planning on killing him there and then. Unless…unless Batman was the one who destroyed the computer, Laura realized, the pieces beginning to click into place. Which means Bane had something on him. Something he was lording over Batman that was sensitive enough to warrant setting off a military-grade explosive to destroy any evidence in order to keep it quiet. Which then begs the question…
"What did Bane want you to see?" She murmured at the drive.
Dinner forgotten for the moment, Laura hurried out to her apartment's small kitchen and sat herself down at the breakfast bar, pulling over her laptop from where it rested on the opposite end. Barely waiting for the machine to boot up, the brunette inserted the drive into the USB port on the side, watching with anticipation as the computer processed the files the small device contained. A second later, the drive's memory opened up, and she quickly scanned the contents of the drive. Oddly enough, there was only one file; a short video, only about five seconds long.
Frowning, Laura opened the file, watching as the clip played. The screen lit up with the image of Batman kneeling in the snow on the roof of the Gotham Royal Hotel, awash in the light of the spotlights mounted on the police helicopters she could hear hovering off-screen. The vigilante turned towards the camera, or rather whomever it had been planted on, a scowl written across his face.
"You just ran out of time." He said, a second before the window faded to black.
Laura let out a huff, quickly playing the video a second time and then closing the window to check the file's memory again when the clip again revealed nothing. But, just as before, there was nothing on the drive, nothing but that single five-second video from atop the Gotham Royal Hotel that seemingly revealed nothing. Nothing, in Laura's opinion at least, that anyone could make out anything compromising from and certainly nothing to warrant the sort of reaction Batman had displayed the night before.
"You just ran out of time."
Laura's head snapped up, hurriedly looking around the room to check that she was alone. Affirming that she was, she quickly checked her computer, sure she'd closed the video and hadn't set it to repeat, but upon inspection, it proved to indeed be closed. Frowning, she scanned the room again, freezing in place as she remembered she'd left the television on in the living room. Grabbing her laptop, she practically sprinted across the apartment's open layout, tossing the computer down on the couch and diving for the remote, quickly rewinding the then-playing GCTV News.
"…And in celebrity news, GCTV's very own Vicki Vale was able to interview local celebrity and Wayne Enterprises owner and CEO Bruce Wayne this Christmas Eve, though to some mixed results. Take a look!"
The camera cut to Wayne and Vale standing in front of what looked to be the Wayne Enterprises building in the Coventry District, the previous night's blizzard only just beginning in the form of a few flurries.
"No man is an island, Bruce. You've been back for almost two years now – you can't expect me to believe that Gotham's most eligible bachelor is spending another Christmas alone." The blonde reporter stated, tilting the small microphone in her hand towards the billionaire.
"You just ran out of time." Wayne snapped, walking off-screen and ignoring Vale's attempts to call him back.
The sergeant sat there for a moment, shocked at what she'd just heard, before frantically replaying both the short video and the interview, not quite sure she wasn't, in fact, hallucinating.
"You just ran out of time."
"You just ran out of time."
"You just ran out of time."
Laura shakily sat herself down on the couch, not sure how much longer her legs would support her, as she attempted to process the information she'd stumbled upon. She'd never have believed it if she hadn't heard it with her own ears, but in retrospect, it began to make sense. The high-tech suit, the military-grade equipment, the nearly decade-long absence from Gotham with seemingly no explanation… it all led to a single, inescapable conclusion that left Laura utterly stunned.
Bruce Wayne is the Batman…
