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Present Day

Gotham City

Along with a number of skills in his wheelhouse, Harvey Bullock had a set of pipes, and today they were getting a workout. If he wasn't sweet-talking the ladies on the corner he was rounding up the dirtbags on parole, keeping them ever focused on the threat of being tossed in jail if they didn't tell him what he wanted to hear. Pronto.

Typically, Jim Gordon could only just barely tolerate his partner's investigation tactic of choice, but today, he was colored impressed. Whatever had gotten stuck in Harvey's craw wasn't getting unstuck anytime soon. The man gave new definition to putting the streets to work.

At the moment, that entailed running after one Mickey Sikes. He and Harvey could typically catch parole violators without much hassle. But this guy knew he was dead meat, so he ran and FAST. Down alleyways, up side roads, through a restaurant kitchen, and finally inside the back entrance of a strip club.

Mickey worked fast, but Jim worked smart. He caught him off at the pass by bursting in through the side door, badge and gun drawn. Gun pressed outward, Jim cornered him. "Back it up, Sikes. Don't make this any harder on yourself."

A moment later Harvey rounded the corner and grabbed Mickey by the back of his shirt. The guy flailed his fists wildly in an attempt to get in a solid punch. With a grunt, Harvey yanked him forward and slammed Mickey's head against a window pane, just hard enough to shatter it.

"That!" Harvey yelled, engaging those pipes. "Is for making me run."

Mickey let off a surprised cry of pain, shaking the glass out of his hair. "Police brutality, that's what this is. You think you cops can do whatever you want, but I got rights."

Harvey rolled his eyes, bored. "I've already heard that song. Sing me a new one, and I might forget that I saw those stolen laptops in the backseat of your stolen car. Ever hear of keeping a low profile?" When Mickey didn't immediately answer, Harvey shouted, "No? You've got five laptops. Look it up!"

Jim stood vigilant, just a few inches off of his partner. Then he moved carefully out of the way as three young, scantily clad women walked past, sporting big fake eyelashes, string bikinis, and high heels.

Harvey's face and body language instantly softened. "Hello, ladies. Excuse us. Pardon the interruption."

One of the girls waved back, friendly-like, before throwing back the red velvet curtains and walking up to the stage. An announcer called, "Let's give it up for the beautiful, Peaches, gentlemen!"

Mickey chewed his lip. The wheels turned slowly, but he was thinking. "Look, I have no idea..."

Harvey bore down on him. "I haven't even asked you what we're looking for yet, you sleazy punk!" He turned to his partner. "What do you think, Jim? Think I'm wasting my breath? Think I should haul his ass downtown?"

Jim shrugged, as if commenting on a predictable sports event. "I think it might cheer you up." He shared with Mickey, "He's havin' a bad day."

Harvey nodded. "Yeah, I am having a bad day. A nice clean arrest on the books might be just the ticket-"

"No, wait, I..I know things." Mickey struggled to string sentences together. Jim wondered if putting the guy's head through a window might negatively affect the quality of information they received. "What do you need to know? C'mon, just ask me."

Harvey grabbed him by the collar. "We need the dirt on a new drug out on the streets. Might be gettin' slipped to someone when they're not lookin'. Makes them lose their mind, do things they'd never do under any circumstance. Any of that ring a bell?"

Mickey said, "Sounds like a drug already out there. They got all different types to scratch that itch."

"No, see now you're not listening. I said a NEW drug. I'm lookin' for one that hasn't been in circulation until only just recently, like yesterday recently. Something nobody's heard of, 'cept maybe a no-talent clown like you."

"I… I think I might have heard something about one guy who was selling drugs, but now he's not selling drugs." He brightened. "But he might start up again selling drugs-"

"Wrong answer, Mickey." Harvey's voice became deceptively quiet, like he was talking to a small child. "You better wrack what brains you have for the right answer, or else your kidneys are gonna hear about it."

Jim ran a hand down his face. This was getting them nowhere. When his hand fell back at his side, he blinked as he saw a nearly nude woman walking right up to them.

A blonde with a purple feathered boa and not much else called over, "Hey, Harvey."

He turned half a face. "Aw, the lovely, the talented Destiny. How you doin', baby? Trust me when I say that I will drop almost anything to catch your show." His white knuckle grip on the perp never flinched. "But you mind giving us a minute, sweetheart? I'm just having a conversation with my pal over here."

She tilted her head, interested. "Did I overhear you say something about a new drug dealer?"

Harvey turned his full attention. "I don't know, honey. What you got for me?"

She popped her gum. "Oh, you know, Louie the Lip, Frankie Fists, the Penguin. There's no order any more ever since Fish left town."

"Tell me about it. Every time I turn around there's someone else comin' up trying to be crown prince of the scumbags."

Destiny added, "Or leaving town."

Harvey released his grip on Mickey and handed him off to Jim, not unlike how he might hang up his coat at the end of the day. "What'd'ya mean 'leavin' town?"

Destiny leaned in. "They're leaving town, just not the city limits."

Jim understood the code for 'left town' by now. The phrase held new meaning in Gotham. Could have "left town" into a John Doe body bag, took one too many in the teeth, or got fitted for his last pair of brand new cement boots.

She added, "It's got some girls around here scared."

Harvey said, "You don't say. Why don't you tell me a little more? Let me help you ladies out, if I can."

Meanwhile, Mickey inched to the side, looking like he was either trying to steal second base or make a break for it. Jim clamped down on his shoulder, saying, "Just don't."

Destiny said, "Somebody goes into the hospital for something. Or sees someone a little less licensed for medical help? They don't come back."

Harvey asked, "And where are all these people really going to?"

"That's the thing," Destiny said. "Nobody knows."

Harvey half-smiled. "Darlin', hear this. Somebody always knows." He pinned a couple crisp twenty dollar bills in the side of her G-String. "Thanks for the tip. Here's something to put towards your college fund."

She shared a look with him as she turned to go on stage. "I always do."

Harvey called after her. "You're a lady and a scholar!" He whistled to an aging, short bald man wearing a tattered business suit. "Hey, Sergei. Sorry about the window. Couldn't be helped. Casualty of war."

Sergei looked over and said in a heavy Slavic accent, "Forget the window. You keep coming when I have the no-pay-watch-girls-all-day customer. That's all I need."

"You got it, boss. I'll be back here on Friday." Harvey looked back to Jim, who just finished slapping cuffs on Mickey.

Harvey nodded his approval. "You got him? Good. Let's get the hell outta here."

"You feelin' better?" Jim asked.

"I'd feel better if for once we could get a tip that fits a case we already have." He did say, "But I'm getting there."

He might have gotten there, too, if Jim hadn't taken a phone call right after they secured Mickey in the back of the squad car. It was the Captain. "Jim, I need you two on site at a crime scene at Gotham General."

Jim frowned. "The hospital? What happened?"

"Just got a report on a local EMT. He grabbed up a scalpel and started cutting into anyone in the hospital who crossed his path. Nothing's confirmed yet, but we think he might have been slipped the same drug as your deceased truck driver."

"What makes you think that?"

"Just like the impact wasn't what killed the driver, the knife fight didn't kill the EMT. He dropped dead of unknown causes before anyone could take him down."