(December 10th, 8:30 PM, Gotham)
Whether or not you were the champion of good favor, or the most appropriate approximation of Belial, there was a certain level of expectation surrounding the signing off of a city's own unsung hero. Not often in recent history had there been a time where people had found it irrelevant to pay their own respects back in kind to the greats who had once risked their very earthly, fleshy vessel for the sake of the common good by the time they had saw it high time to depart. Nearly each and every culture had a means of celebrating the passing of the torch to another generation when it had been made all but inevitable to all who had bothered to pay such a level of attention, and among the likes of the pharaohs and sheiks gone off into the mist to fade away from this shallow plane of being, James Gordon stood with his head held high as the fruits of his life's labor saluted before him. For much in the same way that another man had very similarly poised himself throughout the lot of Herman Melville's own fictional adventure, Gordon had spent most of his life chasing an elusive behemoth the likes of which he hadn't cared to imagine, and found the charismatic man with a full head of hair reduced to a frail, old man. Autumn had begun to set in and his bones had cared to confirm it only further as he slowly drew a fresh breath of air and collected himself in the moment, one step at a time he made his way to the podium that was more clear to him then the faces of those around him. He was being ushered towards it by the booming voice of one of his former colleagues and now his only option was to obey and give a word of wisdom to those that he was so immediately going to be leaving behind, a massive cluster of bodies and steadily dissipating voices silencing as he cleared his throat.
"There...were some things I had prepared for tonight...but I don't think that I should end things sounding like a broken record. It has been my job to keep the people of this city safe, as best as I could, for the last fifteen years...and I could not be any happier with the progress that this city has made in that time. Some have criticized the choices I have made, and some of you have even decided to show up for tonight, and for that I am eternally grateful. Although...I am going to be leaving Gotham behind, I realize that there is still much to be done in Gotham, but as an old friend of mine once said...vigilance is the price of safety. Though I may no longer be the commissioner, or even a part of the force, I have faith that there shall always be someone who is willing to fight for their city and for their own safety of mind. This city has taught me that...that there is so much more that makes Gotham then simply buildings and paved streets, it's the people who live on and within them. This, is, was, and forever shall be, our city." He finished as one well heighted man came towards him with a glass of what he had assumed to be champagne and lifted it to the sky, to which the crowd reciprocated effortlessly.
The Albatross, a significantly smaller convention space then the lavishly opulent Gatsby, however in the wake of what happened not nearly long enough ago there were some stains that had managed to be removed from the fabric but not the mind. In total the guest list had surpassed numbers usually held for dinner dates with dignitaries and religious hierarchy, roughly in the thousands if you counted the attendance in conjunction with the seemingly hive minded paparazzi who were clamoring together outside to get a brief word with the former commissioner, although no one would ever admit such a thing to him. Most knew better then to make a spectacle out of the man, even if that was exactly what took place, he wouldn't ask for anything more then to cost through this night in the eye of the tabloid's media firestorm. A light appetizer of shrimp glazed in a devilishly delectable white honey sauce, a sixteen ounce steak cut from the most tender and careful of conditions, and a procession of willing and eager hands waiting to cap off the evening fueled by lost youth and the pompous arrogance of those hiding just how glad they were that his was retiring. For it's just as they say, while the cat is away, the mice shall play. A single voice called James away by the end of what had to have been the hundredth handshake, domineering to say the least and forceful by its own nature, but still subdued enough that it was able to be used in polite society. A man of which Gordon had known all too well over his years in the city, nearing middle-age looks and a head of well manicured dark brown hair approached him in a fine two button suit.
"Well, Mr. Wayne, I never thought that I would see the day you would attend an event like this." He mused to the man, which he had curiously enough seen grow from an orphaned boy to the man he saw before him, Wayne's hand raising and veering off to the left to point to a ravishing redhead who had managed to turn the parties attention entirely from him. Nothing too surprising, as this had always been the standard for any function he showed up at, and no matter the hair color or bust size they were all beyond words...and they were always his.
"A friend of mine had heard something about an open bar, we couldn't resist stopping by to see you off, we'll be heading off for a night on the shore. Perhaps you'd like to join us?" Bruce offered as he motioned to the front door leading back out into the rest of world, away from dying light of the evenings affair.
"Thanks for the invite, but it's not exactly my place, I hope you'll understand." James answered courteously, leaving him to simply nod in acknowledgement.
"Did you believe what you said, about having faith...in the future of this city?" He questioned.
"I always have, it's a matter of who's willing to fight harder, and it might just come down to them or us." Exclaimed Gordon.
"Are you referring to vigilantes, or the common citizens?"
"One thing they don't teach you...when you eat award winning steak and drink from a bottle of wine worth three times my pension, there is no difference between the two. And that's what gives me hope, Mr. Wayne. I know that you weren't the biggest supporter of "you know who" but he did some good, and on nights like tonight and at times like these...all I hope is that they're keeping themselves busy." Bruce's shoulders lowered at hearing this, and he nodded one last time before giving his goodbyes to both James as well as the entire convention center.
Leaving moments after and hailing a taxi, he gave the man at the wheel a few twenty dollar bills and told him to take him to the airport, opting for a scenic route and stated that he had wished to see the place as much as he could before boarding his flight. A five minute detour through the downtown district, and then a long straightaway taking him all the way to the city's outer limits, the very next stop taking him just outside of the airport with few minutes remaining before he would be needing to check in, the lights of the runway seemed to be the only thing still lit up for miles. It all happened so fast that the time between taking a seat in the mix of all of the other wayward peoples to actually collecting his meager luggage and walking down the terminal would bleed out into obscurity. Halfway there, the light of where the entrance ramp merged with the plane glowing in a sort of heavenly ambiance, a dark figure would come forth from the side of the darkened wall and locked eyes with him.
"Did you enjoy your soiree?" It asked, calmly as a guttural growl came seeping out of a slit in the expressionless, white mask that was covering its face.
"I did, I didn't think you'd be stopping me at the airport, seeing me off?" He sarcastically remarked.
"Don't be coy, now, I'm not going to start spouting off lines from Casablanca. I just wanted to say thank you, and that I wish you all of the best, wherever it is that you end up." It explained, taking one more step an advancing from out of the veil of shadows, the faint embers of light casting off the red and black hooded cloak and garb that had covered the remainder of its form."
"It might just be a fool's intuition...but I think that you'll do just fine...uh, I never got your name?" He let out in one well calculated breath, the figure who now appeared more human in nature with the additional illumination brought to the discussion began to slowly respire.
"Invictus..." He spoke coldly.
"Well, then, it's been an honor. If you'll excuse me, there are some people that I need to see, and I'm very late."