Wowzas, thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows! Here's the next bit. I should have more before the next week is out. I hope everybody's enjoying their weekend!
(x)
The ambulance whirled its red lights and siren as it sped off to Gotham General, carrying Paul Henderson inside.
Jim jogged over, heading back towards Harvey. "He's got a pulse. Same as with Lucy Grimwold. It's faint, but it's there." He stared forward in thought. "Hopefully, he'll wake up and have something to tell us."
Harvey tenderly touched his right cheek and said, "I would've asked him about it while we were in there, but we didn't exactly have time to talk."
Jim smirked and the simple movement caused him immediate pain. He flinched at the sting, and he ran his tongue over his teeth, appreciating the fact that they were all accounted for after the throwdown.
Harvey asked point blank. "You mind telling me what in the hell that was back there?"
Jim said, "I thought if I was calm and talked sense he might regain some self-control. It started to work, didn't it?"
"Yeah, you're as good a therapist as Maddie is a homicide detective. Next time you two decide it's opposite day, do me a favor and let me know. I'll put on a pair of pumps, go Vegan, and knock off the nearest jewelry store."
Jim didn't have a particularly long list of things he'd pay to see, but that one would be up there. He reached up and gingerly checked his jaw. He felt the swell of a knot growing just underneath his chin. "That man had a solid uppercut."
Harvey started to amble back towards their car. "If he survives this, he could have a promising career in the heavyweight boxing division."
Suddenly, down the street a blue van jutted forward from its parking space. Its tires let off a short squeal, and the van took off down the street. Jim frowned as he looked at the license plate. "CVX-319."
Harvey groaned as he held his side. "Look, if you're gonna do everything you just did and then start talking like a robot, we may as well just haul you down to the nuthatch now-"
"The van!" Jim shouted as he broke into a run. "It's the same one parked outside Lucy Grimwold's apartment building!"
Harvey's eyes widened, and he barrelled forward, using every ounce of energy he had left to run towards the squad car. He climbed in and started the engine, and they chased after the van already halfway down the city street. Harvey immediately got on the CB, "All units, we are in pursuit of a suspicious vehicle, dark blue Ford C-Max SEL, license plate CVX-319 leaving the crime scene at Gotham's Channel 6 News Building. All units respond. Repeat, all units respond."
Harvey revved the car's engine and sped down the road, stop signs and potholes be damned.
(x)
Inside the van, Dr. Moon felt his heart race as he swerved around the nearest corner and pounded his foot on the gas. Sweat began to pool on his forehead and streamed down the sides of his face. He just had to get to the next traffic signal and pull into the parking garage on 6th and Madison.
While Dr. Moon had never run from the police before, he knew how to lose someone when he wanted to. He drove like a maniac, and once again, he could appreciate the nerve his desperation gave him. He ran through red lights, clipped passing cars, and just barely cleared it around the next corner.
The logic based side of his brain cleared its throat and spoke up in the midst of the mind-numbing chaos. It occurred to him that it didn't matter if he died in a car crash, ran into the side of a building, or got hit by a Mac Truck in oncoming traffic. If he didn't escape the police and bring his research back safely to his employer, he'd beg for death before it was over.
The thought kicked up a fresh throe of adrenaline. Dr. Moon felt his heart pumping away with a ragged fierceness that scared him. He sped through an alleyway, knocking into garbage cans, recycling bins, and mailboxes. He could see the flashing blue and red lights of the squad car behind him, but every time he checked in his rear view mirror, he gained more and more distance between them. He recklessly skidded onto a side street and out onto the main road, just barely scraping past a tractor trailer coming in the opposite direction. The tractor trailer's driver laid on his horn and threw on his brakes, effectively blocking the police car in its path.
Dr. Moon heard the engine of the van roar and took off into the city. He pulled into the parking garage owned by his employer. After taking the ramp down to the basement, he carefully drove his scratched and mauled car down into the underground lanes underneath the city.
The roads you had to know were there to travel. The roads that all led back to Indian Hill.
(x)
Harvey cursed and laid on his horn as a tractor trailer blocked his path. Once he realized it was a losing battle, he maneuvered the car backwards back down the alley the way they came. He corrected and returned to the main road to find the streets completely empty of the dark blue van.
He banged his fist against the top of his steering wheel. "Are you kidding me? You have got to be freakin' kidding me!" He yelled. "How the hell did we lose this fuckwad?!"
Jim spoke calmly, matching Harvey's rage with reason. "He must have had a plan. We'll circle back around. He couldn't have gone far."
They drove around the five block radius, checking every driveway, every parking space, every side street. They found no trace of the van. "I can't believe this. We had him." Harvey breathed a heavy, angry sigh. "Un-freakin'-believable."
Jim frowned, shaking his head as he scanned the streets.
The CB sparked to life. It was the Captain. "Squad car 316, come in. Gordon, do you have him?"
Jim picked up the CB. "Negative, sir. I repeat, negative. We lost him."
The Captain addressed every squad car en route to the scene. "All units advance. We have an ATB on a dark blue Ford van with city plates, CVX-319. He couldn't have gone far."
Jim's face fell slack, and he again he felt the shiner delivered by Paul Henderson throb with pain. He looked desperately for their mark. "C'mon, Harvey. Tell me you see something."
"Just the same thing I always see, Jim," he sighed out. "Only the finest back alleys in all of Gotham."
(x)
Dr. Moon heard his noisy, gasping breaths press out of his body as he slowed down his speed and reached his destination. He pulled up to a large metal entrance and put on his brakes. He showed his ID to the guard on post at the hidden entrance of the Indian Hill facility. He was unceremoniously waved through.
As he drove into underground parking garage, the doctor fell into autopilot. He felt numb, and he realized the numbness went a long way down and a long way back.
Somewhere far back in his mind, a voice spoke up urgently. You have to act. You have to run. You have to do -something-. Just what are you going to tell Strange this time? The voice bellowed angrily. WAKE UP! ANSWER ME!
"Dr. Moon isn't in right now," he answered aloud without energy. "Leave a message at the beep."
He pulled the van into an enclosed parking space, as he had so many times before. Quite suddenly, he thought of the mice he often used for his experiments. He always found himself shocked how in moments of true terror the mice didn't flee. Instead, no matter what the danger, they always returned home.
He understood the mice and their raw instincts now more than ever.
He felt so panicky, so unsure of what to do next or how to do it, that the sound of Dr. Strange's voice coming over a loudspeaker provided an oddly welcome relief.
"Dr. Moon," he drew out. "From your home in Gotham, to the news tower, and now a cop car chase through the city and into the belly of our facility. You've have quite the exhilarating day."
"I've worked tirelessly. That's how progress is achieved." It was weak said.
Hugo Strange spoke calmly, like a father to his child. "You have made progress. Unfortunately, that's never been the problem. Too little, too late, good doctor. This is where your path ends."
He choked out, "No." The tears came now.
"Take heart, Dr. Moon. Death is not the end. As you well know, it's only an illustrious new beginning."
He used his words to fight for his life. "There's still one more subject! This one could be the key to everything!" He thought he was empty of rage, but he was wrong. It was only delayed. He screamed, "It's not too late! IT'S NEVER TOO LATE!"
Wisps of smoke curled out from pipes in the corners of the room, and Dr. Moon looked up into his rear mirror to see a solid garage door closing him in.
Dr. Strange said with finality. "It's never too late, doctor. Until it is."
The room went chillingly silent, save for the slam of the metal door behind him and the hiss of smoke from the pipes. Dr. Moon's eyes were as wide as door knobs. He wanted to run, to scream, to make a break for it, and also his scientific brain knew it would all be in vain. Smoke filled the small metal room, the van, and finally his lungs.
His brain cells were dying. He understood the nasty business of death all too well from years of medical training. In their death, the brain cells sprung forth one last image. He saw himself as a young doctor, eager to discover, committed to his craft, his eyes full with hope for the future.
As Dr. Moon breathed his last breath, he envied, despised, and loved that young man. That young man who started on a path blissfully unaware that each step brought him closer to an enclosed parking space filled with deadly smoke in an old beat-up van at Indian Hill.