Chapter 2: Jim Isn't Jim
Harvey Bullock waited for the Strike Force to go through the gate of Arkham Asylum, and retrieve Jim Gordon. It was almost noon, and Jim hadn't checked in at the time he said he would, and dealing with Strange and whatever Frankensteins the doc had been creating, Harvey imagined the worst.
At first, Harvey had considered calling Sylvia, to bring her in on it.
Now, he was happy he hadn't: Jim was MIA. Boy, would Sylvia tear him a new asshole if she ever found out that Harvey, the acting captain of the GCPD, allowed her brother to walk in and get captured like a bait on a hook. Unwilling to suffer the consequences, Harvey ordered the Strike Force to unleash hell on the Arkham Asylum gate, that was until a voice called out.
"STAND DOWN!"
Harvey looked at the walkie-talkie as though he hadn't heard it right.
"Stand down, officers!" Jim's voice was heard. "Stand down. All clear."
"All clear?" Harvey repeated incredulously.
"Yeah, all clear. Sorry to waste your time, Hoss. How about a ride back to HQ?"
Harvey wasn't exactly sure just what the hell was happening over there, but he figured he'd find out when Jim came back. When the doors opened, he half-expected that to be him, but he let out a low, painful groan when Sylvia came barging through, loudly stomping up the stairs and standing in front of Harvey, who forced his lips into a half-convincing smile.
"Hey, Liv." He said with less enthusiasm.
"Where's Jim?" She questioned.
"That's…That is a reasonable inquiry."
Sylvia blinked: "What the fuck is wrong with you? Where is he?"
"He's out...and about. How are you doing, Liv? You look good!"
"You're acting weird." Sylvia noted; she looked around, then back at him: "Where's Jim, Harvey? Is he at Arkham?"
"Well, I mean, he was."
"What the fuck do you mean by 'was'? Did you seriously let him go in alone?"
"No, no, I didn't." Harvey replied, stepping away from his desk and rounding it to meet her in the center. "Liv, as much as I love talking to you, I'm afraid that this isn't the best time."
"Is it not?"
"Frankly, no."
"Well, frankly, Harvey, I haven't heard from Jim all day. And I know you and him are still trying to get through to Strange. And I don't see him here, so—" Sylvia stopped talking as the doors opened; both she and Harvey saw Jim Gordon strolling in with the other officers of the Strike Force.
Curious to the both of them, they found his 'stroll' a bit out of character, but otherwise, he appeared unharmed. And that suited both of them.
"Jim!" Harvey called, running down the stairs to meet his partner.
Jim curiously looked at him as though he'd never seen Harvey before. Then something seemed to click; he pointed, "Harvey Bullock! Hey, Harv!"
Sylvia raised her eyebrows and let out a low whistle. Either Jim had been drinking some heavy booze on his way over here or he was having a time and a half. She casually walked down the stairs, meeting the two detectives halfway.
"Strange is clean?" Harvey questioned, disbelieving. "What happened?"
"Dead end," Jim answered.
"'Dead end'? What do you mean 'dead end'?"
"He's connected."
"So is my mechanic. Who isn't these days?"
"He's connected to people we can't cross." Jim emphasized.
"Like who?"
"You don't want to know. Trust me."
Harvey and Sylvia alike observed Jim. He was abnormally pale; perspiration dotted the lines of his forehead.
"You all right? You look like a sack of fish."
"A small catch of the flu, maybe."
"Well, keep your distance. I'm getting laid this weekend, fingers crossed." Harvey said mischievously, crossing his fingers indicatively, and taking Sylvia's arm. "Come on, Liv—I've got something to show you."
"Does it pertain to you getting laid? If that's the case, I'm fairly certain I don't want to see."
"I'm flattered," Harvey said, smirking. "But that's not it."
"Well, you're flattered, I'm relieved—win-win." Sylvia said, looking at Jim for a second. She approached and he looked her up and down…oddly enough. "Are you sure you're okay, Jimmy?"
A small smile twisted the corner of his mouth as he said, "Never better, Kitten."
Sylvia gave him a look of 'what the fuck'. Then again, she was just happy he was alive and not having been turned into one of Strange's monsters. His overall appearance seemed unharmed, so at least he hadn't been tortured. Still…
"Strange didn't do anything to you, did he? Like psychologically?" Sylvia asked gingerly. She put her hand over his forehead, feeling his temperature.
"Not at all." Jim said, overdramatizing his answer with a large, shit-eating grin.
Frankly, it creeped her out.
"Did he drug you?"
"Why do you ask?"
"You're just…you're acting really weird." To prove a point, she looked him up and down, trying to guess why he seemed so off-putting. Aside from being way too happy.
"No drugs, no hugs, nothing in between," Jim appeased, smiling once more.
"Liv…." Harvey said, popping in again.
"I'm coming, I'm coming…." Sylvia reassured. She touched Jim's shoulder; he looked happy about that. "I'll come back and check on you, okay?"
"Sure thing, sure thing!" Jim responded enthusiastically. "Anything you want."
"Riiiight…." Sylvia returned, looking at him with narrowed eyes.
She didn't really want to give him another moment to respond with something else that might goad her suspicions; after all, Harvey had something important to show her.
She followed Harvey into what would have been Captain Barnes' office. In some ways, Barnes was still the captain. But the guy was still in the hospital with a badly stabbed thigh, and Harvey seemed to take up the captain's hat pretty well.
"Look at this." Harvey handed her the latest issue of Gotham Gazette with the news headline that read 'Former Mayor Dead, Alive, Dead again'.
"I could have come up with a better title for a heading, but I applaud the writer's humor."
"Hardy-har-har," Harvey chortled, taking the paper and holding it up. "Read the article."
"I'm not reading the entire article."
"Paragraph six, first line."
Sylvia glanced, counted and read, "'GCPD saves Gotham from tyrannical, undead former Mayor, Theo Galavan.'….
"Pretty good, right?"
"That would be pretty good…if it was true."
"It is true."
"As according to whom?" Sylvia asked, sitting in the arm chair directly opposite of Barnes' desk; Harvey sat behind it, smiling in spite of himself. "If my memory serves me correctly, Galavan was blown to bits by Butch Gilzean, who was led to the location by Oz. The papers should be thanking them."
"Gilzean…." Harvey laughed. "That guy is as useless as a fly trap in a fire."
"What the fuck does that even mean?"
"I don't know…I heard one of the younger officers use it and I thought it sounded pretty clever."
"You like the article because it gives credit to the GCPD."
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"You never cared if the police got credit for anything; you couldn't even summon a little pride in doing what you do," Sylvia reminded, crossing one leg over the other. Knowingly, she sneered, "It's because you're the acting captain now, isn't it? The GCPD does something, makes you look good, so you wanna take credit for it."
"I'm the Captain. And you'll do well to remember that."
"If the city gave you the key, you'd turn it in a second, wouldn't you?"
"Without hesitation, Little Sister."
Sylvia rolled her eyes dramatically to the ceiling: "I shouldn't be so surprised."
"Who peed in your cereal this morning? Normally, you're pretty easily amused."
"Normally, I am."
"So?" He waved his hand to her, trying to get more information. "Tell big brother Harvey what's wrong. How far do we go back?"
"Too far back."
"Got the wise cracks coming like firecrackers. So, what's eating you?"
"Prior to coming here, nothing really. But..." She hesitated but she glanced outside the window of the door, watching Jim look around as though he'd never been inside the building before.
"You're worried about Jimbo?"
"More than I care to admit."
"Well, there's a reason we call you 'Little Sister' around here. You're his little sister. I imagine you're always worried about him."
"More than usual, I mean. He's acting weird."
"He just got back from Arkham Asylum. You'd be acting weird too…."
"I've been in Arkham, several times—as a guest. I've never acted weird coming out."
"Maybe it's because you talk to a lot of crazies, you're immune to it."
"Pardon?"
Harvey snickered, "Come on, Liv. I know you've been to Arkham, talking to that traitor. How is Nygma? How's he doing?"
"You're more than welcome to poke fun when I have the patience, but right now, I don't." Sylvia said callously.
"Come on, Liv. He framed Jim. I figured after someone did that, you wouldn't spare a minute on them."
"Normally, I wouldn't."
"You got a soft spot for the creep, don't you?"
Sylvia gave him a sour look.
"Don't you fucking pull that kind of hypocrisy on me, especially you above all people. You had a thing for Fish."
"Yeah, well, that was Fish. We're talking about a guy who likes to talk in riddles—literally—and he killed a brother of ours. Remember Pinkney?"
"I don't, as a matter of fact. He was one of yours, and I can understand the animosity you have for Ed but—"
"—What do you see in him?" Harvey interrupted coldly.
"He's got a lot of potential."
"So does a spot of bacteria on my bathroom floor, but I'm not gonna talk it up like it's all that and a bag of chips."
"You never gave him enough credit."
"Why would I? He murdered one of our brothers, and he put your brother—your real brother—in jail for a crime you committed."
"I know the fucking facts!"
"So why keep visiting that moron—"
"—He's not a fucking moron—"
"—He's a waste of your time—"
"—A waste of your time, but not a waste of mine!" Sylvia snapped, standing to her feet so quickly that the chair she'd once occupied had scooted back so hard, the legs had scratched the wooden floor.
Harvey looked up at her, surprised by the outburst of passion. Granted, it might not have been an outburst; her voice had started creeping up in volume, and he'd knowingly hit a nerve.
"You think you have every fucking person figured out, well, you don't." Sylvia said harshly. "If anything, you—and every fucking person in this goddamn building—are the reason Ed ended up the way he did. You undermined every single task he performed, and you've more than once called him a moron."
"I actually only called him a 'dummy'."
"Same fucking thing."
Harvey stood.
"You need to calm yourself down, Liv. What are people going to think if you start defending every wacko, crazy nut job?"
"I don't defend every nut job around here."
"You defend Penguin—"
"—He's my husband—"
"—You're still friendly with Barbara—"
"—Her getting committed isn't relevant to—"
"—And now you're trying to defend Nygma. What does that sound like to you?"
Sylvia shot him a glare worthy of execution as she said through forced calm, "You want to put people down because they don't fit your idea of 'sanity'. Personally, I see more to them—Oswald, Ed, Barbara—they have all potential that your people consistently choose to overlook. That'll be your downfall."
"Mm-hmm…..Mm-hmm, let me ask you this." He hooked his thumbs into the belt loops of his pants. "What's your relationship with Ed these days? You know, aside from visiting him in Arkham, and all?"
"What the fuck are you getting at?"
"I mean, you talked to him each time you came to the station. Jim even told me that—for a second—you had something of a couple's date with them."
"It wasn't a couple's date. It was Jim and Lee, and Kristen and Ed."
"Ah, right…Kringle. Now there's a jewel."
"I'm not talking about that right now."
"Well, I am." Harvey debated, smiling. "You and Kristen Kringle didn't get along, I hear."
"She didn't care for my line of work."
"Yeah, I imagine overlooking murders and under-the-desk jobs might have been a little traumatizing for a records custodian."
Sylvia crossed her arms defensively: "Fine. I didn't care for her. But not without reason."
"Why didn't you like her?"
"Am I on trial?"
"Nah." Harvey said, waving his hand. "I just want to know more about you."
"I think you know enough."
"You know what. I really don't think I do."
"You want some satisfaction?"
"What have we been discussing this entire time, huh?"
"Fine. Here it is. I didn't like her so much because she wanted to see one side of Ed, a sliver of it. She wasn't interested in him until those jackasses she was carrying a thing for suddenly vanished. Then she notices him."
"That's another thing," Harvey speculated.
"What other thing?"
"People vanishing. One officer in particular, actually. Officer Dougherty, I mean."
"Yet another pretentious ass."
"Is that all?"
"What else is there?"
Harvey looked at her for a long moment. He leaned over the desk, hands balancing his weight.
"Personally, I'm starting to wonder whether or not you knew Kristen Kringle was dead before the rest of us did. In fact, I can almost bet on it. You knew Kristen was gone, and you knew Officer Dougherty was MIA before the rest of us. I bet my career that Ed told you every little detail. Being his friend and everything, you coulda taken it to your grave. Am I right?"
Sylvia mirrored him, her hands on the desk as well.
"Don't go asking questions if you already know the fucking answers, Harv. It's fucking condescending." She warned.
Harvey smirked.
"You like Nygma, don't you?"
"Of course, I do. He's my friend."
"Even after he framed Jim?"
"Not right after, but yes."
"That's pathetic."
Sylvia shrugged.
"You're probably right. But" Sylvia picked the newspaper up. "…so is pretending that the GCPD got rid of Galavan when, really, you had to rely on a fucking skell to do the job for you."
"Touche." Harvey chuckled, although the smile didn't reach his eyes.
Sylvia smiled back, but it mirrored the same as his.
They backed off on the subject, leaving the office and heading up to the top of the staircase where Jim was sitting as his own desk, drinking a cherry slushy. Sylvia sat on Harvey's desk, looking over different case files that he had been working on.
"What's this one?" Sylvia asked, lifting one of the folders and looking through it briefly.
"Small burglary, someone robbed a pharmacy. Know the guy?"
"You think I know every skell?"
"I say you know about 90% of them."
"I say you're right." Sylvia agreed. She pointed to the file's name. "He works on the docks as a fisherman. He was regularly paid by Maroni, back when the Don was still alive, anyway. Back then, he was pulling about five-grand worth of coke that was shipped between Albuquerque and Gotham. At this point in time, I doubt he's employed anywhere, probably living in the fucking street."
"And you didn't bother to tell Jim and me?" Harvey asked, gesturing to her brother and himself. "That would have been one less skell to worry about."
"Are you worried about him?"
"Nah, not really."
"Then why would I have told you?"
"She's got a point there," Jim chimed in, winking at her.
Sylvia and Harvey exchanged glances, but let that odd gesture go.
"What about this one?" Harvey said, taking a folder from the bottom of the pile and handing it to her. "This guy has been on our list ever since Barnes took the reins."
"'Jack Marson'." Sylvia said, reading the file's name.
"Sound familiar?" Jim asked.
"Not really. If he's a criminal, he's a small one. Or he's just starting. I don't know anyone by that name."
"He robbed a few banks," Harvey informed. "Got a lot of the bankers pissed."
"Why?"
"He robbed their banks. Didn't rob the normal ones."
"We have normal banks?" Sylvia mused.
"The lesser known banks were robbed—not the good ones like Gotham Statutes."
"Any evidence linking it to him?"
"Plenty. Fingerprints, DNA, photos—"
"So what's holding you back, bud?" Sylvia asked, smirking at Harvey. "You've got the evidence—Barnes should've been on this one like a bump on a log."
"We can't find the creep."
"What does he look like?"
Harvey gave a photo to Sylvia, who looked it over. It was black and white, grainy. A typical stock image that could be found on any nanny cam.
"You can't find Jack Marson, because Jack Marson isn't anybody. It's an Alias." She explained, tossing the photo on the desk.
"How do you know? What's his real name?"
"This picture that you have is of Drake Anderson. The fucker recently got a nose job, and he looks a little more different. Different hair cut, different eye contacts—a little cosmetic surgery on the cheekbones…."
"Drake Anderson?" repeated Harvey. "The Anderson's son? The Family?"
"The same. But you won't find him."
"Yeah, because he's dead."
"Yep." Sylvia chirped with a broad smile.
"You killed him, didn't you?"
"Pass GO and collect two-hundred dollars."
Jim looked at her curiously.
It was odd though. Instead of a disapproving shake of the head as Sylvia had expected, Jim looked more or less intrigued, like he was just hearing of Sylvia's long list of crimes for the first time, and he appeared impressed. And how little surprised Harvey appeared to be by Sylvia's lackadaisical attitude of committing such a crime.
"I figured you would go after Anderson," Harvey said, rolling his eyes. "Not that I don't blame you. I never liked him."
"He was a pain in the ass."
"So was Falcone, but I didn't see you go after him."
"He was a different kind of a pain in the ass." Sylvia reminisced. "At least he had some manners."
"Yeah, now we have different pains." Harvey sighed.
"Like Strange."
"Yeah, like Strange." Harvey said, leaning forward at his desk. "Which makes me wonder, Jim. These people to whom Strange is connected, they must have been pretty heavy to make you back off, huh?"
"Oh, they're heavy," Jim reassured, flashing Sylvia a crooked smile. Like he was trying to impress her.
"I don't want anything dangerous. I just want to be titillated."
"Oh sure," Sylvia mused. "Everyone wants to be titillated."
"Well, not everyone can be immersed in danger like you, Liv."
"I'm not immersed; I'm thriving."
"Like a weed."
"Careful, Harv."
Harvey smirked when Sylvia's tone bordered on dangerous but the small smile she sent him was enough to give him some satisfaction. Knowing that the conversation they had prior to this one had not dampened Sylvia and Harvey's regular back-and-forth was more than reassuring.
"Remember," Harvey said to Jim, "when you called me from the hospital, that time when you had Falcone on the gurney."
"…How could I forget?"
"Remember what I told you? Remember what I said?"
"…I forget…" Jim said seriously, although Harvey seemed gather that was a joke.
"Ha-ha, very funny."
Then something unprecedented happened.
"Gordon!"
Sylvia startled, hearing Alfred's voice. She glanced to see the Wayne's butler running up the stairs, dressed dashingly as always, but looking worried.
"You're back!" He said quickly. "What happened? Where's Master Bruce? Where's Lucius?" His voice rose in volume, as well as concern: "Have you seen them? Where are they!"
Sylvia glanced uncertainly between Harvey, who appeared confused, and Jim, who looked just as confused. And that made Sylvia's suspicions return.
"Hey, Alfred, take it easy," Harvey assured.
"Where are they!"
As though Jim had gotten a social cue, he said promptly, "Alfred…relax. Master Bruce and Lucius are...uh…headed back to Wayne Manor."
"Well, that's a load of hot tosh for starters, isn't it?" Alfred retorted. "I just came back from there."
"What can I tell ya?" Jim said, shrugging. "Maybe they stopped for a snack or something."
Sylvia glanced between Harvey, who now appeared calm, to Alfred, whose world was seemingly crashing down around him, and to Jim, who seemed unaffected by any of it. Feeling like something was off was an understatement for Sylvia as she carefully observed Jim's mannerisms, highly suspecting that Jim was not acting like himself. Maybe Strange had drugged him….
"So what about Strange?" Alfred demanded.
"It's complicated!" Jim responded.
"Well, then, go on! What!"
"Complicated police business!"
Alfred stared at Jim as though he'd gone off his rocker. Harvey leaned into Alfred, muttering, "He's got the touch of the flu."
"I'll try calling the Manor…." Alfred suggested.
Harvey and Jim encouraged him to do so. Meanwhile, Sylvia glanced between them. When Alfred left, Sylvia turned to the two detectives.
"What does Bruce have to do with anything?" Sylvia asked Jim.
"Eh….kids today…."
"That's not a satisfying answer."
"Well, it's an answer." Jim said, winking at her.
"You're insufferable. I can't talk to you when you're like this."
"Well, there's other stuff we can do that doesn't involve talking." Jim suggested, smirking at her.
She stared at him. So did Harvey.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sylvia questioned, stepping away from him. "You're acting so…weird."
"The flu will do that." Harvey offered. "One time, my aunt had the flu and she couldn't even remember who I was—she thought I was an old boyfriend. Now, that was an awkward Christmas."
"Ugh, I don't want to know that!" Sylvia scolded. "This is not the time for jokes, Harvey."
"Calm down, Sugar bean." Jim said gently. "This is the perfect time for jokes. People get all stressed in this place; it doesn't really help matters, you know."
"I can't fucking talk to him," Sylvia said irritably. "I'm going to check on Alfred. See if I can't find out what's going on. Harvey, don't you let him out of your sight, okay?"
"Sure thing, Liv."
Sylvia strode away, rolling her eyes as Jim smiled needlessly on. She waited for Alfred to finish on the phone, watching him become tirelessly stressed as he hung up.
"Voicemail again," He groaned.
"What's going on, Alfred?"
"It's Master B."
"And?"
"And what?"
"I need more than that to go on," Sylvia encouraged.
"Didn't Gordon tell you?"
"Tell me what?"
"I guess he didn't."
"Didn't tell me what!" She goaded. "Alfred, what the fuck is going on?"
"What do you think is going on?"
"I don't fucking know! That's why I asked!"
Alfred seemed to realize that Sylvia wasn't in the loop on any event that was being held so Alfred took her arm, pulled her to the wayside, out of ear shot of anyone else.
"Bruce, Lucius, Gordon—all of them infiltrated Arkham," Alfred explained.
"All three of them? How?"
"Well, it's a delicate plan."
"Yeah, pretty fucking fragile."
"Let me finish, will you?"
"Do it quickly." Sylvia said, rushing him.
"They were going to find out what Strange was hiding, how Strange—ultimately, they wanted to find more evidence against his wrongdoings. Strange is 'The Philosopher', this man who ordered the hit on Martha and Thomas Wayne."
"Okay, I got that much."
"And they went in. But, you see, Gordon is out and about, but I can't find Bruce or Lucius."
"Lucius is the black fellow, right?"
"Correct, Ma'am."
"So Jim is out of the Asylum, but you think Bruce and Lucius are still in there?"
"I think Strange got him."
"Strange is becoming a fucking thorn in my craw hole." Sylvia muttered vehemently.
Alfred blinked, but said encouragingly, "I do believe that Strange has him."
"Let's tell Jim and Harvey, maybe they can send a few people to investigate." Sylvia suggested, taking Alfred's hand and pulling him with her to Harvey, who looked at them expectantly.
"I tried calling the manor a hundred times," Alfred said, distressed. "Not a single word. I believe Strange has him. I'm positive."
"Holy crap," grunted Jim, strolling past Alfred and standing beside Harvey. "Are you still here? I told you a thousand times, Strange is clean."
"You in charge of that, are you?" Alfred scolded, gesturing to Jim as he spoke to Harvey.
"It's strange though, isn't it?" Harvey contemplated aloud. "Strange that they're MIA."
"Ha. 'Strange'…." Jim giggled. "That's funny. 'Strange'."
"Funny!" Alfred exclaimed. "Funny!"
Harvey held out a hand, lowering it to goad Alfred into some sort of calmness (not that it helped) and said thoughtfully, "Maybe I should send the Strike Force back into Arkham….have a little look-see."
"No, no, no!" Jim said quickly. "You don't want to do that. Bad idea. Trust me. Terrible idea." Appealing to Harvey's friendship, he said, "How long have you known me?"
"Well, you got a point. I mean, I guess if you're good, I'm good too."
"I don't know who's got to you, Gordon," Alfred said darkly. "But you're just...just weird."
"That's what I think too." Sylvia noted aloud, agreeing with Alfred. "Jimmy, you're not acting like yourself at all."
"I'm acting like myself, all right." Jim reassured. "Trust me…."
"Trust you?" Sylvia questioned. "You go MIA for several hours, and you don't even ask me to come along?"
"Why would I ask you?"
"'Why would you ask me'?" Sylvia repeated incredulously. "Are you fucking kidding me? I'm the one that got you looking in the right fucking direction—remember, going after The Lady and her associates? Finding out Strange was 'The Philosopher', all of that? And going after Strange, finding out what his seedy plots entail—that's not something you'd want me in on? Please."
Jim stuffed his hand in his pockets, had a thoughtful expression cross his face for a second before he said with a smirk, "I could think of a lot of places I'd like you to get in but Strange's castle ain't one of them, doll."
"Why are you talking like that?" Sylvia questioned.
"Talking like what?"
"That innuendo."
"Come on, Sugar bean. You know I'm just messing with you," Jim said quickly after realizing he had hit a sore spot.
But that's just it, wasn't it? Jim never spoke to her like that. The very idea of anything sexual associating with Sylvia was too taboo to him. At least to her real brother. This man in front of her didn't seem like him at all. Not since he had come out of Arkham.
"'Sugar bean'?" She repeated. "'Doll'? You've never called me that."
"What can I tell ya? I like coming up with pet names for you."
"Well, I don't like it. And—if you haven't realized it, James—I'm your sister. I'm not your fucking 'pet'."
Harvey and Alfred glanced at one another uncomfortably.
A moment passed.
She said carefully, "Jim."
"Yes?"
"What do you call me?"
"Hmm?"
"My nickname."
"He knows what he calls you," Harvey pointed out. "Sounds a little off asking him to—"
"I'm testing something, Harv. So shut it." Sylvia snapped.
Harvey held up his hands and backed off.
She looked at Jim seriously.
"Jimmy…What do you call me?"
"Um…."
"Vee. You call me 'Vee'. Not 'Doll'. And definitely not 'Sugar Bean'."
"Oh right…right…." Jim said, smirking. "The nickname, yeah. You're 'Vee'."
"Right." She looked at him oddly, adding, "What the fuck has gotten into you?"
Jim leaned forward.
"I like calling you 'Vee'. Tell me, sweet thing, what other names do I call you, hm?"
"Jim. I love you," Sylvia reassured. "And I can understand that Strange messed with you or something, and I can understand all of that. But if you continue to talk to me like that, I'm going to kick you hard enough between your legs that your balls will retreat so far up into your prostate that not even your proctologist will find them."
"Ooh, kinky." Jim purred.
Harvey and Alfred backed up a little, certain that this man was not Jim Gordon now. Or at least, fairly certain that Jim was under more than just the flu. Maybe Strange had given him drugs.
Her threat completely flew over Jim's head; in fact, it had spurred him on. He moved towards Sylvia and he kissed her right on the mouth. She was so surprised by it, she hadn't reacted—even when his tongue slipped inside her mouth. When the surprise quickly wore off, Sylvia grabbed both of Jim's shoulders and kneed him so hard in the groin that Jim squealed like a pig. He straightened only for Sylvia to punch him hard in the face.
When she did, Jim looked back at her. Or at least, half his face could. The other half looked as though it had been flattened with a rolling pin. At that moment, the Strike Force attacked him, tackled, and handcuffed him.
"Whoever you are, you're under arrest—"
Sylvia rubbed her face, grabbed a bottle of Listerine sitting on Alvarez' desk and gurgled half of it before spitting it out.
"What the hell—" Harvey began, shocked.
Sylvia rubbed her mouth with the back of her hand: "We'll talk about this later. We have go to back to Arkham!"
"Strike Force!" Harvey gathered. "We're going back!"
Strike Force started peeling out the door, all shouting, "GET JIM! GET JIM!" One of them said, "I can't believe that just happened!"
Alfred looked worriedly at Sylvia.
She said hastily, "Come on!"
"Where exactly are we going?" Alfred demanded as she grabbed his wrist and pulled him out.
"To find Bruce! We'll take my car."
"We'll take mine, it's faster!"
"Fine. But I'm driving."
"Wait, wait—"
"Alfred—"
"It's a stick shift!" Alfred cautioned.
"So! I can drive a stick. Let's go!"
"Oh…All right then!" Alfred said, getting into the passenger seat.
They buckled in and shot out of the parking lot before revving it up, speeding towards Arkham.
"I imagine that you're going to have to undergo plenty of therapy after that monstrosity," Alfred said nervously as he held onto the dash board as Sylvia zipped through four lanes of traffic.
"Please." Sylvia said, rolling her eyes. "That's not the first time I've felt violated. I've endured more humility watching the first Twilight movie."
"Well," Alfred coughed…And he didn't know what else to say after that.