"We've got a new player rising," A random officer says as he rushes to keep up with the Police Commissioner.
"Who is he?" Gordon questions as he pushes a door open, stepping through with the same hurried pace.
"Not a he sir," He holds out a large picture in which the tired man grabs instantly, "A she."
Jim glances down to the photo for an instant but returns his gaze to the hall ahead as he has to weave in and out of people and other random objects placed in various places. This is just what Gotham needs, a new player. The town hasn't settled out after The Joker incident but how can they? Many people believe that the events brought on by the homicidal clown was much worse than what was before. The Arkham breakout brought on by Ra's Al Ghul and Jonathan Crane was bad, Carmine Falcone's reign of corruption was bad, but the Joker was the worst Gotham has seen in a long while.
Pushing the door open to his office he comes to a complete halt. Standing against a large window, the night's sky washing away the eyes of any onlookers, is the vigilante himself: Batman. He moves forward as Gordon moves to the large desk, turning on a lamp to offer the faintest of light. He slaps the picture down on his desk to offer the Dark Knight a glance but he remains standing, already knowing who was captured in the frame.
"You know who this woman is?" He questions as he takes his seat, sinking comfortably into the plush leather.
"Dominique Falcone," He rasps out in the deep, husky voice.
"Falcone? As in Carmine Falcone?" He curses under his breath silently, "I wasn't aware he had a daughter," He states as he glances down to the picture once more.
"She is the most recent offspring of Falcone from a recent marriage made twenty-five years ago," The Batman says.
"What happened to his two sons?" Gordon inquires.
"The two vanished about the same time of the Arkham breakout."
"She have anything to do with it?"
"Probably." The man says shrinking back into the shadows to make his leave.
"Are you going to take matters into your own hands?" He asks, finally looking up to see the Batman had disappeared, unknowing that he is still in the room.
The answer is always a yes when it deals with people like this. If Dominique had left a paper trail, body trail, anything, Gotham's finest would have been able to put her behind bars. But she is clean and tidy. The female Falcone makes sure she doesn't leave anything behind, she can't afford to. What happened with her Father was something that wouldn't and could be allowed to her, the Bat knows that. So trying to bring her in on things that would be circumstantial wouldn't hold up in court at the moment. But a person messes up so easily and when she does, Batman vows to turn her pretty ass over to Gordon.
Winter in Gotham is such a wonderful time. The railing, fountains, and buildings are covered by the sheek snow. People running around wrapped up in the warmest of clothes as they try to do some shopping or things of the sorts. Then there are other people who could care less about the climate and it's inhabitants and care only about themselves and their pleasures.
Tracking the little druggie down had been a bit difficult. He never stays in one place for too long nor does he have a place to stay anyways. But the scent seems to have grown stronger as more and more people will confirm that they saw a rather gaunt looking man walking by, coughing, stumbling and doing god knows what else. There was even an accusation that he shouted something or another that made no sense at all but this came from a man who was quite fearful of anything and everything. Could it be that there are still people alive battling the effects of the fear toxin? Dom doesn't know nor does she honestly care.
The black Lexus comes to a stop outside a dingy looking building. The door opens as the driver takes Dom's black gloved hand and mentions something about the beggars saying he went inside. The eyes that match the Winter season give the place a once over as she walks, crunching on the snow with her black heels. She waves her driver away, indicating for him to stay in the car with the heat on. She'll need it she figures since she is dressed in a black dress that comes down to her knees. Dominique had been interrupted at a dinner party when someone told her they couldn't find Vincent Razorblade, her drug lackey.
She pulls the black pea coat closer to her body as she attempts to open the front door but no luck since a deadbolt was there, keeping the chains together. Nothing a bullet won't fix. Digging into her large black purse she pulls her trademark silver pistol, steps away slightly, and gives the lock a good four rounds. Exhaling, seeing the fog the warmth of her breath caused, she yanks the chains from the door and heads inside, her heels clacking away. There was no way she would take her shoes off for a fear of getting some sort of disease.
Rubbing her hands together and pursing her nude pouty lips, she stands for a moment before she finally sees a bit of light peeking out from underneath a door. She steps softly though he may already know that someone is in here. Knowing the man inside he may be too stoned or fucked up to realize anything. With a quick twist of the doorknob and a forceful push the door swings open to reveal Dominique standing in the doorway, taking off the black gloves and slipping them into her purse.
Stepping into the room, her eyes glance around and finally come upon the half dressed man, sprawled out on the haggard looking mattress. Noticing the joint in his hand she can do nothing but smirk slightly. Walking into the room further, closer to the bed as she unbuttons her coat, tossing it to the area next to Vincent, the little lamp was doing a good job in keeping the room heated.
"You always strip down like this when you smoke?" She does find it attractive but she isn't the pursuer; She's the persuee. "Button your fucking pants."
The man simply looked up at her as his head rested against the old mattress. Vincent is a rather skinny, gaunt, looking man from some other area than Gotham. His accent feeds into the thought giving the Mob Princess an area of the U.K. Thought it didn't really matter. His is frail, skinny, pale, an such an asshole to anyone other than her. Sure he wants to tell her just what he thinks of her yet he knows to keep his mouth shut on accord of Dominique being able to supply him with an ample of free drugs in order to keep a person on the streets so that she may know anything and everything going on. The British punk gives her a glare as he reaches down to place the buttons back together as Dom takes the joint from his hand and walks from the room meaning for him to follow behind her. Audible protests and declarations of what names suit her brings a smile to her lips.
"Crane was bailed out Sir," Alfred's voice comes from behind the Vigilante.
"I know Alfred," Bruce replies with his eyes still glued to the black and white pictures of who he suspects got the mad Psychologist.
"Do you have any idea as to whom it may be?" His foot steps are heard approaching behind him.
"I've got an idea," He speaks picking up a picture to hand it to his Butler.
Alfred Pennyworth places his trusty glasses upon his face to get a more focused look. The photo looks like it could have been taken back in the seventies. The woman has large, round black sunglasses on. Her long, black hair is dancing around freely in the Gotham wind. The black pea coat is buttoned in full as a black scarf adorns her neck. Her large lips are parted ever so slightly as she steps into a black Lexus, unaware of any camera taking shots of her.
"Who is this sir?" He asks, setting the picture back down.
"Dominique Falcone," He voices with a sigh, "Carmine Falcone's daughter."
"Eh? He's got another one of those brats roaming Gotham?" The obvious distaste for Carmine and his spawns.
"Seems so. Twenty-five years ago he had an affair with a French woman who he later wed. The two only had one child and that would be," He points to a black and white picture, "Dominique."
"I thought Carmine had other children," Alfred says, adjusting his black wool coat, "Aren't they the ones directing the whole Mob scene, Sir?"
"The sons disappeared after the Arkham breakout. The other 'daughter' has vanished as well. My only guess would be that Miss Falcone is behind it all. Seems to be smarter than the usual Falcone spawns Gotham has ran into," He says with a shrug of his shoulders.
"You'll be investigating her soon, yes?"
Bruce gave a hard glance to the pictures once more with knitted brows, "Sooner or later. Crane's whereabouts seem to be more important to me than anything else with the Joker behind the Arkham bars."
Debronzed, I got your message on your post lol.
So, chapter one to Gotham Tales. It's going to get more interesting as more and more posts come along. I'm going to be able to post like once a week for the next couple of weeks. I am moving in with a friend and also working longer hours. But you'll still get your updates to this story as well as all my other ones that aren't already completed. Review if you'd like, please, and until next time... Later folks.