Hey guys! Welcome back! So, Gotham is a top favorite of mine, and I've been working on this story for a while, actually. I finally feel like it's good enough to start posting, so I hope you enjoy!
Cassandra Gordon face claim: Samara Weaving. Most, if not all, of her look and style will come from her movie The Babysitter, (first movie). I highly recommend it lol, especially if you like both horror and comedy. Anyway, on with the story!
It was dark.
Not so dark she couldn't see, but dark enough to freak her out, even just a little bit. She could see the outline of the long, gravel road in front of her, going over a bridge and into a city that she knew too well.
She was on the outskirts of Gotham.
A soft breeze brushed back a wavy piece of blonde hair over her shoulder, and it carried the heavy scent of rain. She looked in the direction of its origins, and saw that dark, angry clouds were rolling over the sky, across the bright stars and moon. It was strange she could see them, normally the smog and the city lights completely drowned them out.
As they ominous clouds rolled closer, rumbling thunder grew louder and louder, enough that it seemed to shake her very spine. Bright flashes appeared across it, crackling lightning beginning to threaten everything around her. Soon, the clouds were upon her, and with them, a heavy rain fell in sheets. But she couldn't feel it soaking her skin.
She took a step forward, and that was when she noticed it.
The rain was red.
It was dark red, like the blood coming from a heavy laceration. It pounded down, tinting everything it touched with burgundy. Soon, the entire surface of the trees, the bridge, and the road in front of her were coated in it.
Her hands raised in front of her face, and she saw in shock that the red rain was coating them, soaking her clothing, matting her hair. She took several steps forward, approaching the riverbank with a mounting sense of fear and dread.
Finally, she came upon it, took a deep breath, and looked into the water.
And nearly screamed.
Despite the heavy rain, she could see her reflection so clearly, it was like looking in a mirror. She was covered in the red rain; it stained her white t-shirt and jeans, it got under her fingernails, it ran in her eyes. As it covered her face, its heavy metallic scent stung her nose, and that's when she realized.
It wasn't red rain. It was blood.
Brrriiiinng! Brriiiinnnng!
The blaring alarm jolted her from her dream, and she bolted from her pillow, breathing erratic, as her eyes adjusted around her.
The alarm had brought on the lights, and her partner across the room groaned loudly, rolling out of his bunk. Sitting on the edge, Mason nodded at the clock as he pulled his jacket on.
"Why does shit always happen between midnight and four in the morning?" He grumbled, but stood none the less, jamming his feet into his boots and moving to jog out the door. "Get your ass up, Cas, we gotta go!"
She heard him get on the radio, asking dispatch for the reason for the call, as she sat up and jammed her own feet into her boots. Moving to the coat rack, she grabbed the jacket that read C. Gordon, EMT-A in bold white letters against the black fabric and began fixing her long, blonde ponytail as she hightailed it to their truck. Jumping in, she turned the key as the engine rolled to life, the garage door of the station rumbling up as Mason jumped into the front seat next to her. The rain had stopped, thankfully, as she flicked the switch and the lights and sirens on the ambulance roared to life.
"We've got a shooting over on Washington St., Theatre District. Two adults, one child at the scene; kids claiming to have no injuries." He explained to the girl as cars began to move to the side as they passed. "Dispatch told me both adults are showing zero signs of lividity."
"Fuck, it's only been, what, two days since our last body transport?" Cassandra cursed, pulling a rather sharp turn and honking impatiently at an old Buick until the driver flipped her off, but pulled to the side and let her pass.
"It's Gotham, Cas, you're telling me after seven months on this job that you're surprised?" Mason cocked an eyebrow, but she only sighed, knowing he was right.
The scene was being taped off as they rolled up, and Cas put it into park as Mason jumped out, the officer nodding at them and allowing them to enter. They both rushed to the bodies, a man and a woman, both in their forties. Gunshot wound to the chest on both.
The significant amount of blood and the pulseless, apneic look of the bodies was an obvious conclusion; she guessed the bullet had probably gone clean through the heart or the aorta, maybe even the superior vena cava. Either way, it was clear both victims had lost too much blood.
They were already dead.
"Hey, I need to help them bag the bodies, can you go check on the kid?" Mason asked her as an officer approached with two large, black bags. She glanced over her shoulder to see a young boy, wrapped in a black coat, shivering on the steps. She bit her lip and stood, snatching a warm, wool blanket from the back of the ambulance and briskly jogged towards him.
Once she got within about ten feet, she slowed, keeping her steps calm and steady as she approached. The young boy's gaze was on her shoes, but he didn't even twitch as she came to a stop in front of him. Slowly, she crouched down and smiled gently.
"Hi." She greeted softly, "My name is Cassandra Gordon, I'm an EMT. Are you hurt? Are you in pain?"
The boy's brown eyes were glossy with tears, but he still didn't move. A cold breeze swept by, biting at her exposed skin, and she saw the faintest shudder move through his body. She took an experimental step closer.
"Are you cold? I've got this blanket for you, if you want it."
At first, it didn't appear that he heard her. But then he nodded, just barely, and she swept the blanket over his shoulders, wrapping it tightly around his shivering form. He only grabbed it and pulled it closer, before finally looking into her face as she crouched in front of him. She offered the most reassuring smile she was capable of.
"Are you hurt?"
He shook his head, "No. He…he only shot my parents."
Cassie nodded, "Well, would it be ok if I just looked you over? Just to make sure?"
Again, he hesitated, but then nodded slowly. Pulling on some gloves, she pulled out her pen light and checked his pupils, then waved a finger in front of his eyes as she gaged their response. Then, she did a quick overview of his body, making sure there were no wounds that he was ignoring due to shock and adrenaline. He and his vital signs were completely healthy, aside from an elevated heart rate and blood pressure; but then again, she'd expected that. As she did her exam, she really got a good look at him. Young, only about twelve, with curly dark hair and large brown eyes. His pale face was streaked with tears, and a jaw that had not lost all its baby fat was trembling in the cold.
"Ok," she concluded softly, pulling the warm blanket around him again, "I'm all done. Do you have anyone that we can call? Maybe an aunt or uncle, or a sibling?"
"The police called my butler; he's practically family." The boy told her, voice sounding hollow. As he spoke, footsteps alerted her, causing her to look up. As she did, her blue eyes widened in surprised at the approaching figure.
Her older brother, Jim, was walking towards them, looking sorrowful. She raised an eyebrow at him, but he only shook his head, letting her know they could talk about it later. It was strange to suddenly see her big brother in a suit now instead of his police uniform; he'd only just transitioned to detective last month.
The eldest Gordon finally came to a stop beside the pair, watching the young boy carefully.
"My name's James Gordon," he started gently, "I'm a detective. What's your name?"
The young boy shivered, and Jim shot a questioning glance at Cas, who shook her head subtly. Nodding in understanding, he turned back to the boy.
"It's ok, you don't have to talk." He reassured him and looked over his shoulder. Cas followed his gaze, and saw an older man, maybe early forties, standing next to Sergeant Tannenbaum. She vaguely recalled Jim venting about his older partner, Harvey Bullock, and made the mental connection when a soft voice interrupted her.
"Bruce." Both adults looked back to the boy, who raised his eyes to Jim. "My name is Bruce Wayne."
Holy shit.
The Wayne's? What was the cities most influential family doing cutting through this part of town? And who the hell would gun them down? The sentence you'd catch for that was staggering, if not life-shattering.
Her brother crouched next to her, his voice softening as he looked at the boy. "Can you tell me what happened, Bruce?"
Bruce was silent, then began to sniffle before it turned into soft cries, new tears streaking his face. Quickly, Cas reached for his shoulder and began to gently rub his back, shushing him softly as Jim moved to sit next to him on the steps.
"You know, when I was about your age, a drunk driver hit our car." He started quietly, and Cas met his gaze sadly. "Killed my dad; I was right next to him." Leaning closer, his voice lowered. "I know how you feel right now, and I promise you; however dark and scary the world might be right now, there will be light." He paused, staring right into the young boys eyes as his voice grew stronger. "There will be light, Bruce."
The younger boy seemed to pause, as if mulling over the older man's words, before speaking. "We had just gotten out of the movies," he started, voice trembling, "we were walking through the alley to catch an uptown cab…and a man came out of the shadows. He was tall, and had a hat, and gloves." He paused, before adding, "And shiny shoes. He took my dad's wallet, and my mom's necklace." A fresh wave of tears brimmed on his eyes before spilling down his cheeks as he concluded, "And then he shot them, for no reason."
Cas rubbed his back again, throwing her older brother a stern glance. "Ok, I think that's enough. Jim, maybe you could question him at another time, when he's warmer, maybe?"
The detective caught onto the note in his baby sister's voice and nodded, but Bruce continued as if he hadn't even heard her. "I should've done something!" He cried, "But I was too scared!"
"There was nothing you could've done to stop what happened." Jim told him firmly, shaking his head as he denied the boys misplaced guilt. "But there is something you can do now."
Bruce looked back up at him, tears slowing, as he continued.
"Be strong. Be strong, and I promise you, I will find the man who did this."
Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a car door slamming, and the trio looked over to see a well-dressed, older man, roughly in his fifties. He rushed under the crime scene tape, and Bruce threw the blanket off, bolting towards him.
So this is the butler, Cas connected mentally, hanging back as her brother approached the man.
"James Gordon." He introduced.
"Alfred Pennyworth." The butler responded in a British accent, looking shocked and horrified at the scene around him as he hugged the young boy close.
"We're going to catch the guy who did this, sir." Jim told him firmly, but the butler only raised his eyebrows.
"New boy, are you?"
"You could say that."
Alfred nodded, and told him "Good luck, mate." In a doubtful tone before turning to Bruce. "Come."
As they walked away, Cassie approached her brother, standing beside him as they watched the pair leave. She could hear Alfred instructing the young boy to keep his head up, to not anyone see him cry. She turned to her brother, but neither could speak. They could only watch as the last member of the Wayne family, only twelve years old, walked away.
And as she looked to her right, she could've sworn she saw red in the rain puddle next to her.
"So, the paper tells me you're a hero." Cassie teased big brother as she finished wrapping her hands.
Jim didn't even look up from where he was standing in the middle of the mat, only shrugging. "Well, I'm not supposed to be. I did my job, Cas, and I kept my promise." He looked up as she approached him, the fan in the corner whirring quietly in the room. The siblings always met at this warehouse all the time; four times a week, to be specific. Jim insisted that she had hand-to-hand combat training, and they both needed a workout.
It had only been four days since the shooting in the alley; Jim and his partner, Harvey, had caught the guy after he ran during questioning and attempted to stab Jim. Harvey had saved his life, and maybe Cas didn't know the man very well, but she was grateful to know that someone even the least bit confident was looking after her impulsive older brother.
From the moment of her birth, Cassandra and James Gordon had been inseparable. Their father was killed when Jim was ten and their mother was about six months pregnant with Cassie. The horrific event had shocked and stressed her mother to the point of sending her into premature labor. The youngest Gordon was born barely three pounds, and had the umbilical chord wrapped around her neck, her little body blue and cold. The doctor and nurses had attempted to revive her, and were just about to call it when she suddenly sucked in a breath, began waving her little fists, and let out a scream too powerful and loud for such a small thing.
Jim, struggling through the death of his father, had become immediately attached to his sister. As the small family worked through their grief, he changed her diapers, fed her bottles, played with her constantly, and had even been the first person baby Cassie gave her first real smile to. When she first entered grade school, it became clear she carried the traditional attributes of a Gordon. Hard-headed, confrontational, and unafraid of anything that most people would have the good sense to be afraid of. She lost count of how many times her big brother had to step in when she got too bold with the bigger boys in her class, but he'd never complained, or gotten mad at her. When she was fifteen, she'd punched a boy in the jaw when he pulled up her skirt at school. Jim, at the time, was just finishing the police academy, having just gotten out of the military. When their mother sent him to pick her up, he refused to berate her, as the principal had been insisting on. Instead, he threatened the older boy with possible arrest, yelled at the staff, then took Cassie out for a bacon cheeseburger and a chocolate shake, her favorite.
When their mother passed, not even a year later, it was Jim that had taken her in. It was due to his sacrifices that she was able to obtain her EMT-B license while still in high school, and his good word had gotten her a job on the ambulance right after graduation. Now, just over a year later, they'd both been promoted. Jim with detective, and Cassie with her advanced license.
Gotham had only gotten worse, not that either of the Gordon's were surprised in the slightest. Maybe that's why she stayed behind, even though she hated the city. Jim on his own never thought anything through, and she was terrified that one day, he was going to run into something he had no true knowledge of how to handle, and she'd open her door to Harvey and another officer, sorrow on their faces, as they broke the news to her that the last person on this Earth she truly cared about, was dead.
"So, are we going to get to me putting you on the mat, or are you too busy in La-La land?" Jim's teasing broke through her thoughts, and she looked over at him, smirking.
"I find that hilarious, seeing as I've won the last three rounds." She shot back, and they both got into a fighting stance.
They were there for close to two hours, sparring, working out, stretching, and just talking. Catching up on their daily lives. They technically owned their small basement apartment together, but Jim spent most of his time with his fiancée, Barbara, in her high-priced loft.
Finally, once they were done, she bid her brother goodbye, shrieking in opposition as he pulled her into a sweaty, damp hug, and shoved him away as she laughed. Finally, she saw on her watch it was already nine o'clock, so she packed up and left.
Jim watched his sister carefully as she climbed into her car, throwing one more smile at him before driving away. He always watched her approach her car, and ensured she'd made it onto the freeway just above the warehouse before leaving himself. Gotham was dangerous, and his baby sister insisted on staying close to him so long as he worked with the GCPD, so that meant he needed to watch out for her.
It wasn't anything new; he'd been watching out for Cassie since she was born. After watching his father die, he'd been guilt-ridden for years to come, constantly wondering if he could have done something different. When Cassie was born, not even a week after the accident, he realized he might be able to fix it this time. He could protect his family, his mother and his sister. So, that's exactly what he did.
His watch beeped at him, and he glanced down to see it was now nearing nine-thirty; he'd spent almost a half hour packing up and lost in his thoughts. Grabbing the key, he stashed it in the hollowed rock by the door where the buildings owner had always set it, and headed to his own car.
He and Harvey had a funeral tomorrow.
It had been a quiet few days. She didn't go in until two days from now, so Cas found herself laid up on her couch, The Alchemist propped open on her lap. One hand held the book open, while another was up by her head, quietly twirling a light blond curl around her finger, releasing it, and then repeating the process over and over again. She was just nearing chapter three when the front door burst open, nearly pushing her to her feet, but paused in seeing her older brother.
"Jim? What-?" Her brother's face was dark, an expression she knew all too well. He reached behind their fridge, pulling out one of the small gun safe's they had in the house to pull out his personal firearm. He turned to his sister, jaw tight.
"One of the detectives just stopped by the apartment yesterday and told Barbara that the GCPD framed and murdered Mario Pepper." He told her darkly, and her lips parted in shock and horror, shoving the book off her lap as she came to her feet.
"Whoa, whoa, what? But, Jim, you and Harvey worked that case-"
"I know." He told her grimly, voice hard, which is why I need to go reinvestigate." He started for the door, but his younger sister's voice stopped him.
"Wait! Wait, wait," Cas grabbed her own boots and leather jacket, slipping them on as fast as she could. "I'm coming with you."
"This is police business, Cassie-"
"Oh, yeah? Is that why you're not taking your badge?" She nodded at the empty spot on his chest, where there was usually a lump sporting his formal police ID. Jim paused, looking down at his chest, then back to his baby sister, who simply raised her eyebrows.
"Ok, fine, but stay close."
The apartment building wasn't much better than hers; then again, she and her brother were paying the rent on a detective and EMT salary, so she probably shouldn't talk. Cassie could hear shouts and crying babies, as well as a very strong smell of weed, liquor, cigarette smoke, and body odor lingering up and down every hallway they walked through. Once they reached the door, Jim turned to her.
"Ok, this is Mario Pepper's widow and young daughter. They're going to be incredibly upset, so just follow my lead."
Cassie simply nodded firmly, resisting the urge to roll her eyes as he insinuated himself slightly in front of her before knocking on the door. Soft, light footsteps padded towards them, and the door opened to reveal a tired-looking woman with long, tangled blonde hair and a black eye. Behind her, a little, red-headed girl looked up from where she was tending to some plants.
Upon seeing Jim, the blonde woman's eyes widened, then narrowed.
"Go away." She instructed, but her voice shook, and she moved to shut the door. But Jim stepped forward, planting his foot in front of the door frame.
"Ma'am," he growled, "if your husband was innocent, you need to let us inside!"
That appeared to be all it took. Alice Pepper glared at them one last time before relenting, allowing the siblings to slip inside.
As someone who struggled to keep a cactus alive, Cassie was impressed with the plethora of plants in the apartment, all flourishing. Some held colorful flowers, others had strong, thick vines wrapping around the furniture next to it. The little ginger was still standing by a large fern, glaring at the Gordon's. Upon meeting her eyes, Cas offered a small smile. She'd worked with enough abused children to know they didn't trust easily; you had to earn it. The girl seemed taken aback by the gesture, but then scowled again.
"If your husband didn't kill the Wayne's, how did he come to have Martha Wayne's necklace?" Jim started, looking cautiously around the apartment. Alice scoffed.
"You bastards planted it on him?" She guessed sarcastically, but was cut off.
"Bastards!" The young redhead interjected fiercely, and Cas bit back a smile at the small girl's fire.
"Alice," Jim asked gently, "why would the police have the necklace? We didn't kill the Wayne's."
"So you say." The widow shot back, then shook her head tearfully. "God knows my husband had his demons, but he never killed nobody."
It was quiet for a beat, and as Cassie was desperately trying to think of something else, Jim interrupted her thoughts.
"Can we see his shoes?"
All three women in the room turned to him with raised eyebrows, and both Alice and Cas spoke simultaneously, confusion soaking their tones.
"Shoes?"
It didn't take too long before the younger Gordon knew why Jim wanted to see the shoes; the man they were hunting for had impeccable aim, shiny shoes, and killed the Wayne's even after they complied while leaving behind a witness. No mugger, even in Gotham, would take that kind of heat. Not unless they'd been hired.
And offered a very hefty payment.
"Framed?" Harvey Bullock looked up from his desk, where a small mountain of paperwork sat before him. Jim wanted to present his partner with the evidence he'd found, and Cas just wanted to find out what the hell was going on with this case; it was getting crazier by the second. She sat perched on the desk next to Jim, watching the two interact carefully. Bullock had greeted her with nothing but a grunt and a soft, "How ya doin?" so it was safe to say he didn't particularly like her, nor hate her.
"How do you figure? You were there. We framed him?" Bullock sounded doubtful, but that wasn't deterring Jim Gordon.
"Somebody could've planted the necklace on Pepper for us to find; Fish Mooney could've set the whole thing up." He reasoned quietly, and Cas looked around carefully, making sure no one was lingering too close as the trio continued their conversation.
"Why?" Bullock interrogated, but this time, his voice held a slightly flintier tone.
"To cover up for the real killer." Jim leaned closer, causing his sister to do the same. "Mooney works for Falcone," he paused, as if pondering his own words for a split second, before rushing through the last of his sentence. "Maybe Falcone wanted the Wayne's killed."
"Wait, wait, wait!" Bullock hissed, leaning towards his partner. "Why would such a nutty idea even enter your head?"
Jim paused longer this time, looking up at Cas, and his younger sister merely cocked an eyebrow at him as if to say, Hey, he's your partner, you tell him. Sighing, he whispered, "Montoya, from MCU."
Bullock scoffed softly, "That pill-headed loony bird? Really? What's her proof?"
"Wouldn't tell me; doesn't trust me."
"She doesn't have any." Harvey stressed to his younger partner, also letting his eyes flicker to the young blonde sitting near them before turning back to the paperwork on his desk. "If they did, they would've used it."
"Pepper didn't wear shiny shoes." Jim told him, clearly losing his patience. "He didn't own shiny shoes."
"Shiny shoes, Mother of God!" Harvey slammed his pencil down on the desk, looking around frantically, before turning back to the pair. "Just suppose, for a moment, just suppose Pepper was innocent. I killed him."
"We killed him." Jim corrected.
"In self-defense, too." Cassie chimed in, hoping to at least relieve some tension, but Harvey only threw a harsh glare her way before turning back to Jim.
"Doesn't matter. We'd lose our jobs, at least. The case is closed, so forget about it." Bullock turned back to his paperwork again, but Jim tried one last time.
"Even if the real killers are still out there?"
"Yes!" Bullock hissed, turning around to look the two dead in the eye. "Look, just listen to me for once, Jim. For the sake of your baby sister; forget about it."
But, as per usual, the younger detective didn't forget about it. After they walked away from the disgruntled partner, Jim turned to his sister, practically steaming.
"Something serious is going down here, I need to figure out what it is."
Cassie watched him carefully, face hard. "Hey, I'm with you, ok? I want to help."
"Cas, you're not a detective-"
"No, I'm your sister, J!" She whispered fiercely, leaning in close, "And you are my family. That means whatever crock of shit you're about to get yourself into, guess what? I'm in. For the long haul, I'm in."
Jim stared at his baby sister, wanting to be mad. Wanting to be angry, wanting to drop her at her apartment and watch her lock all the doors and windows behind her.
But just like she knew him, he knew her; she'd follow him, to Hell and back. Because he'd do the same for her.
"Ok, fine, you can come. But you stay close, and you let me do the talking, yeah?"
The blonde didn't even bother holding back her eyeroll this time, but nodded. "Ok, fine. Now, can we go? I'm pretty sure we're wasting time just sitting here talking about it."
On their way out, her shoulder accidentally bumped against another mans. She turned back, smiling apologetically, "Sorry, sir!"
The man, with combed over brown hair, a white lab coat, and glasses, simply nodded, watching with wide eyes as the pair walked out the building together.
Fish Mooney's club was pretty cool, Cas couldn't lie. Just the entryway was gorgeous, and as they entered the main dining room, they were presented with a well-stocked bar, a large dining area, and an empty stage. At the bar, a young man in a black and purple suit and shaggy black hair sat in front of a binder filled with papers, looking deep in concentration. Upon hearing Cassie's heels against the floor, he looked up in surprised.
"Detective Gordon," he greeted, then looked behind him at the tall blonde, clad in a white tank top and black jacket, who's familiar blue eyes were staring at him with the same hard, immovable gaze as the man before him. He opened his mouth again, probably to ask who she was, but Jim interrupted him.
"Tell Mooney I'm here."
"May I ask why?"
"No." Jim denied flatly, before moving closer to the back of the club. Passing the young man, Cassie locked eyes with him for a minute before following her big brother, feeling his eyes trail after them as they walked away.
Jim led her further to a back hallway, moving closer to and in front of her before pushing past a red, silky curtain. They were both greeted with a large room, lavishly decorated in reds, blacks, and golds. There was ornate, expensive looking furniture surrounding them, and despite the expensive lamps and large crystal chandelier hanging above them, the lighting was low. There was a large, glossy black desk at one end, and sitting behind it was a woman, maybe thirty-five.
Cassie couldn't deny her beauty. She had dark, mocha-colored skin and pixie cut black hair, the front bangs dip-dyed red. Large gold hoops hung on her ears, with a maroon dress that sported a high, gold collar on her neck. Upon seeing the detective, she greeted him coolly.
"James Gordon; how nice." Fish Mooney's voice implied it was anything but, however, one could only assume a crime boss would get annoyed when a cop came knocking. She looked behind him to see a younger woman, maybe seventeen. She was tall, not as tall as the detective, but easily five-foot-nine. A white tank top was hanging just a few inches above the waistband of her jeans, and a black leather jacket hugged her frame. Long, blonde hair ran past her shoulders, filled with curls and waves. A set of rather intense blue eyes completed her look, and Fish couldn't help but notice how much she looked like the man in front of her.
She was, however, quite beautiful.
"The day I met you, when I was out back there with your boys…what did you and Harvey talk about?"
Fish Mooney raised a small shot glass to her lips, smirking. "Shouldn't you ask Harvey? He's your partner. And it's rude not to make introductions, detective; who's your friend?"
"She's not-" Jim started to attempt to divert attention away from his sister, but she cut him off.
"Cassandra." She introduced herself flatly, ignoring the glare he shot her way before they both turned back to Fish.
"I'm afraid he might lie." Jim picked up again with a grim look, and Fish hummed.
"He might," she mused, and footsteps caught Cassie's attention as the woman talked. Turning around, the blonde's eyes widened a fraction as two men walked into the room, clad in dark suits and equally dark, menacing expressions. Fish smirked at the siblings. "And you think I'll tell you the truth?"
"Jim." Cassie warned lowly, nodding to the men behind them. The eldest Gordon looked at the bodyguards, before turning back to Fish, his expression never once changing or giving away any emotion.
"You just did."
He started to turn away, placing a hand on his sister's shoulder, but Fish interrupted them.
"James, wait," she ordered, standing from her chair to walk round her desk. Stopping in front of the siblings, she watched them both carefully. "You have a little danger in your eye." She told him, her eyes flickering to Cassie, "And you; you've got some fire in yours." She turned back to Jim, smirking dangerously. "I wonder what you plan to do with that."
"You'll have to wait and see." Jim half-growled, his grip on his sister's shoulder tightening, and Fish shook her head, face drawing into a frown.
"I hate surprises."
As if taking cue from a trainer, the two bodyguards lunged at them like dogs. Cassie's arm immediately flew up, blocking a hefty blow that was coming towards her head, and delivered her own fist into her attacker's gut. He stumbled back, and she whipped around, slamming her foot into his chest. This sent him straight to the ground, and she whipped around just in time to see Mooney slam a lamp onto her older brother's head, sending him heavily to the floor with a loud thump!
"Jim!" She cried, moving to attack Fish, but an arm circled around her throat, locking her in. She gasped, kicking angrily at the smirking woman and clawing at the arm that held her. But the man was stronger, and larger. The more she fought, the harder he was squeezing, and it was really starting to hurt. Tutting, Fish walked towards them.
"So," she crooned, "what's a beautiful young thing like yourself doing running around and getting mixed up with a detective, hm?"
Cassie glared, still struggling angrily with the man. Her oxygen flow was getting lower, and the world was getting dark around the edges, but she fought to stay awake. At her silence, Mooney shook her head.
"Knock her out. Don't kill her yet, I want her alive. She's clearly important to him-"
The crime boss said something else, but Cas couldn't hear her anymore. The darkness finally closed in, and she sunk into oblivion.
When she came to, the first thing she noticed was the ache in her arms. She shifted, groaning softly as she pulled herself from into consciousness, and soon realized why. She was dangling; arms strung up above her with chains that were starting to cut into her skin. She shifted, and realized the balls of her feet were just barely grazing the floor; her shoes were gone. Where the hell had her shoes gone? A cold draft caused goosebumps along her arms, shoulders, and stomach, and she realized with a start that her jacket was missing, too, leaving her in nothing but a tank top and her skinny jeans.
What…
It all came rushing back, and her eyes flew open in fear and horror. It was only then that the smell hit her, and she nearly gagged. She was surrounded by pigs, strung upside down, cut open. Meat market; the butcher area, she was pretty sure. Her breathing picked up, and she looked around frantically. A small prick of relief hit her chest upon seeing her brother. He was also strung up, but he was upside down, and still out. But she could see the rise and fall of his chest, and that was enough for her.
"Hey, look who's awake!"
The voice, one she didn't recognize, caused her to look over to her right. There were three men; one was setting up a camera, (what the hell?) another was standing over a large tray that held something she couldn't see, and the other man was walking towards her, smiling mockingly as he rolled up the sleeves of his violet, button down shirt. Getting closer, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a familiar, brown leather wallet, and Cassie felt her heart jump into her throat.
"Cassandra Lillian Gordon; five-foot-seven, blonde hair, blue eyes, born October 31st, 1983." He paused, mocking placing the wallet against his chin. "So, that makes you, what, about nineteen? Yeah, nineteen three months ago, am I right?"
Cassie didn't say anything simply continuing to glare at him. He chuckled dryly, tossing the wallet to the man at the camera, and slid over to her, stopping a little too close for comfort. "Ah, so you're legal." He whispered tauntingly, reaching up to play with a blonde curl. "That's good; see, I like 'em young, but I'm not a monster, y'know? I still like them informed, just," he looked her up and down, and she fought back a shudder, "supple."
Unable to take it anymore, her temper got the better of her and she spat as hard as she could, right into his eye.
The man froze, closing his eyes, then reached up to slowly wipe it away. Shaking his hand off, he turned back to her, face darkening. She met his gaze, refusing to back down, but was unable to move when he swung his fist forward, slamming it into her gut.
All the air in her lungs escaped her body at an alarmingly quick rate, and she sagged against the chains, almost unable to hold her wait as the man chuckled darkly. "Oh, you and I are going to have a real blast, sweetheart," he taunted, "just let me finish up with your brother, and I'll get to you, ok?"
As he spoke, she heard a familiar groan and looked down, still panting slightly, to see Jim slowly coming to. The man holding the camera walked to the other side of the siblings, and the man in the purple shirt spoke up, looking irritated.
"Hey, what are you doing? Shoot over here, you'll get a better angle."
The one with the camera scoffed, "What, you're a director now?"
"Don't get fresh." Purple shirt snapped, "I'm just sayin'."
"Cassie? What-" Jim started, but cut off with another groan. She winched; all that blood rushing to his head wasn't going to be doing him any favors in the near future. They needed to get away, and fast. She was looking around frantically when loud, familiar footsteps caused her to look over, confusion washing into her bloodstream.
"Hey, Butch!" Harvey Bullock greeted loudly, holding up his hands while speaking in a faux Italian accent. He noticed her, eyes widening a fraction, but didn't draw any attention to it.
"Harvey." Purple shirt-or, Butch- stated flatly, looking annoyed. "Who told you we'd be here?"
The detective shrugged, "Everybody knows this is where you take your problems." He pointed to Jim, "That's my partner you got right there." He then nodded at Cas, "And that's his baby sister. She's nineteen, Butch, what the hell does Mooney want with a kid?"
"Ex-partner," Butch corrected smugly, then shot Cassie a lecherous look, "and Fish doesn't want this little thing dead. She wants her alive, but she sure looks nice all strung up like that, doesn't she?"
Cassie didn't bother to hide her sneer, and Harvey glared at Butch before nodding at his pocket, where the lump of cellphone could be seen.
"Let me talk to Fish."
The two walked off, far enough away she couldn't hear what they were saying, and the other two goons followed. She turned to Jim, who was starting to look worse and worse as he continued to hang upside down.
"J, don't worry, alright? You said it yourself, Harvey's street smart, he'll get us out of this, ok?"
She tried to be soothing, but she wasn't sure how well it was working. Her older brother nodded at her, though, and gave what she assumed what supposed to be a reassuring smile. Finally, the older detective walked back over to the two of them. Crouching next to Jim, he looked between the siblings as Jim spoke up.
"Hey, how you doin?" Jim asked, part joking, and Harvey nodded.
"I'm good. We're going home."
Standing, he looked around at the goons, not appearing to notice Butch coming up behind him.
"Gentlemen, I'm just glad everything could work out-"
"Harvey, watch out-!" Cassie screamed, but too late. Butch slammed his fist against the back of Harvey's head, sending him straight to the ground. She felt her heart plummet, watching in disbelief as the other two goons began stringing Harvey up next to Jim. Groaning, she started tugging her hands against the chains, desperate for a way out.
Ok, think, think! Looks like there's a garage door down there, if I can get my hands out maybe I can snag a gun and get them to cut Jim and Harvey down- no stupid, that won't work, cause they also have guns! Alright, um, maybe if I acted weak I could convince them I'm not a threat? Act unconscious and get them to untie me? Yeah, but what then? You still don't have a weapon!
Her thoughts were interrupted when Harvey began to slowly come to. Both men were now upside down, and it was clear the amount of blood rushing to Jim's head was really starting to mess with him. She pulled harder at the chains, biting back a moan of pain as they scraped at her wrists; she could feel layers of skin slowly peeling away.
"How you doin'?" Harvey asked Jim in a strained, casual tone.
"Been better." Her brother groaned, then nodded at him. "Thanks for trying to help."
"Wish I hadn't." Both men turned to Cassie, "You alright, baby Gordon?"
"I will be, as soon as I get my hands out of these damn chains." She ground out, yanking on the bindings with each word. But it wasn't much use when it came to a fight between a one-hundred-and-twenty-six pound teen and metal shackles.
"Hey, Butch!" Harvey yelled at the man, who was arguing with the other guy about the camera. Butch sighed, shaking his head at them.
"Look, fella's, if it was up to me, you'd get a bullet in the head and a decent funeral. But," he shrugged, "Fish has her ways."
Turning away, he faced the garage door Cassie had just been eyeing. "Yo, Franky! Showtime!"
As if out of a horror movie, the door slowly rumbled up, revealing a massively large man clad in an old-fashioned execution uniform, with the black mask to top it off. Normally, the over dramatic sight would made Cassie at least snort, but the blonde had other things on her mind. She started struggling harder with her bindings as the man got closer, picking up a rather large butcher's knife. He cocked his head at her, then started walking towards her brother and his partner.
Cassie's heart leapt to her throat as she watched him walk towards Jim, and she threw her foot forward, slamming it hard into the guys kidneys. Not much, but she couldn't just let Jim die.
If only it had actually done something.
The kick didn't even make the man stagger, and Jim's eyes widened in horror as the knife-wielding man turned to his sister, shoulders tensing.
"No! Cas-"
But he didn't get to finish his sentence.
A loud rumbling caught her off guard, and she struggled to look over her shoulder. Light was pouring in, as if someone had opened a door, but her curiosity was cut off by the loud sound of gunshots. She yelped and ducked her head, praying none of them were hit with a stray bullet. She couldn't see the shooters, but she did see the men drop, one by one, as the rounds slammed into their chests. Finally, Butch was the only one left standing.
It appeared the criminal had at least some nugget of common sense, because he dropped his handgun and held up his hands by his head, clearly surrendering as the group of men rounded the corner. One man, older than the rest, stopped in front of him. He had to be at least sixty-five, quite possibly older, but was far from fragile or weak. His weathered face was hard, gray eyes stormy, and jaw set as he stopped in front of the younger man.
"Don Falcone." Butch's greeting threw her for a second, and she barely stopped her jaw from hitting the floor when she realized who had saved them.
"Forgive me, young man, I forget what your name is. Or perhaps I never knew it."
"Gilzean, sir." Butch said lowly, keeping his eyes on the floor. Falcone nodded.
"Gilzean; tell Miss Mooney she's too impetuous. If she wants to kill policeman," his eyes raised to Cassie, still strung up like a prisoner, "or an innocent girl, she has to ask permission." He paused, crouching in front of the now-red-faced partners. "There are rules."
Turning away, he quietly instructed his men to cut them down before stopping at Cassie. "Come undo this woman's shackles, Gilzean. Now."
"That's right, there are rules!" Harvey emphasized loudly, clearly just happy to be alive as the don's men began hacking at their ropes.
Butch didn't bother to question Falcone's orders, pulling an old, rusty looking key out of his pocket and jamming it into the padlock on the chains. There was a loud click, and the sound filled her with relief. However, once the pressure was gone from her wrists, her legs buckled, having been out of use for so long. Her breath caught as the floor rushed up to greet her, but a large pair of hands caught her, shifting her so she was sitting on the floor. She looked up to see Don Falcone crouched in front of her, watching her carefully.
"Careful, young one," he instructed quietly, but firmly, "you need to warm up your legs." He stood, instructing one of his men to retrieve her jacket and boots.
She sat, shivering, as her brother fought to clear his head and began to shift towards her. She watched the don, confused, but didn't speak.
What just happened?
Falcone wanted to talk to Jim; he'd sent her off with Harvey, saying something about how the conversation wasn't meant for children. The statement rubbed her the wrong way, but she wasn't going to let her pride get the better of her at the moment. He did, after all, just save her brother's life.
Jim dropped her off at his car, asking her to drive over to Barbara's place and ensured her the woman would take care of her. It was an unspoken request she didn't mention the specifics of what happened.
Upon arriving at the apartment, her future sister-in-law looked horrified at her current state, and ushered her inside, giving her some fresh, warm clothes and reassuring her that she could use the shower as long as she wanted.
Cassie wasn't sure how long she spent in there, just standing under the hot water. The temperature was scalding, but she'd always preferred her showers burning. Once the stream began to cool, she knew it was time. Switching the water off, she dried herself and then rubbed the steam away from the mirror, pausing to look at her reflection.
It was clear she hadn't slept in a while; given how pronounced the dark circles under her eyes were. She'd untangled her blonde curls with a comb she'd found, trying to ignore the ache in her shoulders.
It wouldn't be going away anytime soon.
Barbara had prepared some tea for the both of them when she finally got to the living room, but she couldn't drink it. The two women didn't speak, but even under different circumstances, they probably wouldn't. Neither she nor Barbara were each other's biggest fans. Barbara was nice enough, but she came from a completely different background than Cassie and Jim did. Rich, big house, both parents, expensive education. Not that it was her fault that they'd suffered so much, (that would just be immature to have that as her reasoning) but the two had only one thing in common: Jim. And as long as her big brother was happy and safe, Cas would keep her mouth shut as much as necessary.
Finally, a knock at the door caused them both to look at it, then at each other. Barbara stood, clearly shaking, and walked quickly to the door. The younger blonde also pulled herself to her feet, shoulders tense, desperate for the one person she was hoping for to be standing on the other side of that door. Barbara paused, taking a deep breath at the door, before flinging it open.
Cassie nearly collapsed back onto the couch in relief.
Jim stood at the door, looking even worse than she had. His face was covered in dirt and sweat, and his hand was wrapped in gauze. His fiancée surged forward, wrapping her arms around him as her shoulders began to shake, and the siblings locked eyes. The younger Gordon watched her brother with scared and confused eyes, silently asking him what the hell happened. What had Falcone said? Where had he and Harvey gone after they dropped her off?
But he only shook his head slightly, clearly giving her a message: Don't talk about it. Not here.
As the couple hugged, Cas ran a hand over her face and walked to the large, all-glass wall, staring out into the city. Thunder rumbled, and she realized storm clouds were rolling over them.
Storm clouds that looked just like the one's in her dream.