In the depths of Crime Alley, the once-pristine buildings of Gotham City took on a mustier quality. The gleaming whites became sullen grays, and yellow stain seemed to hang in the air, tinting everything in a manner that could only be described as wrong.

Jim Gordon stood at the side of his car, rolling the butt of a cigar between his teeth as he contemplated this. He'd been here before, this street, many years ago. He still remembered what it looked like then, on a cold winter night. He'd seen the dread in the air, but he hadn't seen this. Not this hell.

Across the street from where he'd parked his cruiser was the old, abandoned Crown Theater. A purveyor of old, classic films no one else would play anymore. Right then, something he might call an old reel was playing in his head. An alley just to the left of the old place, flashing red-and-blue, illuminating a young boy kneeling over two bodies. Scattered pearls littered the ground. The look of despair, of uncertainty on that boy's face dominated his thoughts.

He sighed, heavily, and looked at his companions. Detective Sage was silently puffing a cigarette, waiting for his Commissioner to be ready to continue. Renee was staring at her feet, an expression not dissimilar to his own in her eyes. Gordon took a step forward from the car, burying his hands in his coat pockets as the wind chilled the air.

"This isn't a place I ever thought I'd be coming back to." He admitted.

"It's all connected." Victor responded, exhaling one last cloud of smoke before snuffing out the cigarette.

Gordon flattened his lips into a grimace, considering those words. "…So it is."

The officers drew their weapons, keeping them close at hand as they approached the building. Even now, a smooth voice could be heard drifting from within, although his words were hard to distinguish.

"Do you know how many we should be expecting, Montoya?" asked the Commissioner. After a moment's pause, she stopped to consider it.

"No idea." She said in a harsh whisper. "These theaters are small. Probably not many."

Gordon nodded and clicked the safety off of his weapon. "Let's go nab a crime boss."

Glancing nervously between Montoya and Gordon, Sage coughed to get their attention. "Uh, call me crazy, but shouldn't we wait for reinforcements?"

"If he figures us out, he could escape long before the others get here." Jim noted. "Now come on," he nodded towards the door. "move."

Gordon led the way, scurrying up to the door and kneeling beside it. Montoya took the other side and Victor filed in behind her. He peered through the door, to find the lobby decrepit and empty. Dust hung in the air like so many mines, clouding the trim brown carpeting and obscuring the far end, where the screening rooms were. He slowly pushed the door open, keeping his weapon at the ready; it seemed unnecessary, but he would take no chances with Wilson.

Montoya and Sage followed him in, sticking low to the ground. Ahead, they could hear a voice, low and smooth, making what seemed like a sermon. It had to be Wilson, Gordon was sure of it. Waving for the others to follow, he pursued the sound to the far side of the lobby.

"…My people! The true people of Gotham City! The downtrodden, the cast aside, the unhealthy and the unwealthy! For too long has the fat, dribbling upper crust treated you as a collective stepladder to their own fortune! I come to you today with a proposition: join the coming revolution. A storm is descending on this city, and power is up for grabs. Money will no longer guarantee you anything. Power dictates power in the coming age, and we will only gain it through conviction!"

Gordon, crouching to present a smaller target, moved as quickly as he could towards the source of the sound. His knees popped and cracked with every motion, plaguing him in the bitter weather. He ground his teeth and ignored the discomfort until he reached a door: Theater 13. He drew himself up beside it, waiting for Victor and Montoya to line up behind him. The voice was definitely inside.

"…I look in your eyes, and I see the fires that will rise! The roaring flames that will consume this city in their righteous fervor. This is good!"

"We'll see how good it is in a second, you son of a bitch." Gordon murmured. He swiveled himself around, kicking in the door. The others followed, weapons drawn as he stormed the theater shouting at the top of his lungs.

"GOTHAM POLICE! EVERYBODY GET ON THE DAMNED GROUND, N—"

He stopped in his tracks, not five strides in. His mouth hung wide open as his arms dropped to his sides, gently slacking and releasing his sidearm. It fell to his side silently as he numbly scanned the room.

Empty. Completely empty.

Victor kept a tight grip on his pistol, checking under the seats as Montoya approached the back rows, all of them looking bewildered.

"That's not right…" Jim whispered. "This can't be… this is impossible."

And even through it all, the voice continued speaking, mocking him.

"With these fires, we shall spread our justice, and the city and its old ways will tremble beneath the might of change! REAL change! The kind of change that will… oh, I think that's enough. Are you there yet, Commissioner Gordon?"

A cold unlike anything he'd felt jammed into Gordon's spine as he heard his name. His head jerked around in every direction, looking for the source, before settling on the very front of the theater. He rushed down towards it, Vic joining him to find an old boombox sitting patently, wires running out its back and hooking up to speakers throughout the room.

"I don't believe it." Jim groaned, terrified to consider the possibility. Even now, Wilson was two steps ahead of him. But the voice kept talking.

"I think you'll have realized my little ruse by now, Jim. May I call you Jim? Well, ahem, Jim, the truth is I wish to congratulate you. You've been quite diligent in tracking me this last month, and you've come closer than I think you'd ever know. I think you've been my favorite toy in a very, very long time. But… we must all say goodbye at some point."

"Goodbye?" Victor questioned. The prickling on the back of his neck told him all he needed to know, and he grimaced helplessly as the voice of Wilson continued on its tirade.

"Tonight is the end of my little game, and I'll be moving on to much bigger things. And although you've been quite the distraction to relieve my boredom, you're a bit too much to care for with bigger responsibilities coming onto my plate. So consider this a farewell, Jim. It's a shame you won't be able to see my plan in all its glory."

The tape shut itself off, finally finished, but Jim was still staring at the player in confusion. "I… I don't understand."

He started to stand up, but Victor shook his head violently. "Jim. Stay still."

A pause, as the notion of fear entered the Commissioner's mind. "…Why?"

"Think." Victor urged him. "How else could Wilson guarantee we'd find this spot?"

Gordon only had to think for a second before the barrel of a weapon was pressed against the back of his skull. Behind him, he could hear muted sobbing. He took a deep breath, and nearly choked as he asked, "Detective Montoya?"

There was no answer at first, but the weapon in her hands seemed to shake and jitter as she struggled to hold it against him. He heard a faint whisper. "I'm sorry, Gordon…"

"If you were," Victor noted. "you wouldn't be holding a gun to his head."

"Shut up!" she hissed, sounding nearly hysteric as she began to breathe faster and faster. "He twisted my arm, he has my grandparents! Tell me, Gordon, would you do anything less for your daughter?"

The question struck him dead in his heart. Cold sweat poured down his face, and he nearly gagged on the buildup of sheer nothingness in his throat. He choked out, "I… I wouldn't let him force me to compromise my morals."

But she knew as well as he did that that was a lie. I'd burn this whole godforsaken city down for Barbara.

"FREEZE!"

The gun moved away from his head, and Gordon and Sage turned around to see Montoya facing off with Harvey and John, who had just stormed into the room. Bullock seemed unfazed, but John was very clearly distraught.

"Detective Montoya, put the weapon down!" he barked, shaking visibly. "Come on, it doesn't have to be like this!"

"Yes, it does!" she cried, her entire torso heaving with every breath as she grew more desperate. "He's got my family, how am I supposed to—"

She was cut off as Victor leaped from his kneeling position, tackling to the floor and wrestling the gun from her grip. Her cries of protest wrenched Gordon's gut, but he watched on as Sage managed to pin her completely. His own pistol was up to her temple. A good bluff, Jim thought. But for all his faults, Victor would never shoot a fellow officer. No matter the circumstances. That was why he was on this team.

He looked at Montoya. Then again… that's why she was on this team.

"Detective Montoya!" Victor growled. "Renee! Listen to yourself. Whose word are you going on? Wilson's? He's a crook. A liar. Kidnapping… not his style. Making you think he's kidnapping? Very definitely."

Slowly, very slowly, Montoya's frantic breathing slowed. Her forehead was buried into the ground, frustration written plain on her face. Gordon could see what was going on in her mind. She realized now. She was duped.

Even if she hadn't been, this wasn't worth it.

Cautiously, Detective Sage stood, and stepped back. Montoya didn't move, opting to remain still on the floor. He slowly approached Gordon and helped him up to his feet. Jim's eyes were fixed on the officer that had just betrayed them as he was led toward Detectives Bullock and Blake, who greeted him silently. Nothing needed to be said about their situation.

"Remil had information for us." John informed him.

"Wilson's been at the wharves this whole time." Bullock continued, the smoke of his cigarette adding to the clouds in the room. "If we leave now, we should be able to find the right one before the sun's gone down."

John gulped, reluctant to be the one to bring it up. "What should… we do about her?"

Gordon shook his head. "Leave her."

John seemed confused by the order. "But, she's broken the—"

"She's done right by her family." Gordon said to cut him off. "Tried to, anyway. Leave her."

Gordon led the way out, taking long strides to put as much distance between himself and this building as possible. Maybe this place is as cursed as they say…

The others exchanged a glance, before following him out. Only Victor stopped at the door, staring back for a moment at the woman sobbing on the floor. He sighed, unsure of what to make of it, before following the others back to the cruisers. This long night was just getting started. He could tell.

Click

The door shut quietly behind him as Remil Sionis stepped through the door, staring at the apartment he'd just entered. The carpet was plush and as pristinely white as the walls. He looked around quietly, and noted that it seemed he was the only one home. He stepped to his left in the little corner that served as a kitchen, setting his briefcase on the countertop as he moved to the fridge. The stainless steel door swung open smoothly, and he bent over to look at the stock inside.

Three out of four shelves were nothing but neatly arranged, metallic cans of beer. He ignored the ambrosia's call. It simply held no appeal to him. A hungry hand reached down into the crisper drawer, retrieving a bag of his real prize: double-stuffed Oreos. He afforded himself a weak smile at the thought of his treat, gently shutting refrigerator's door behind him. The baggie in hand, he grabbed his briefcase again and stepped back into the hall. The living room was a straight shot from the door, and was as sparse and pristine as the rest of the apartment. Utilitarian, he supposed it might be called. Very little was kept that didn't serve a purpose, whether it be a practical or sentimental one. Remil had always wondered why that was.

As it happened, he did live here. But it wasn't his apartment.

A couch, nearly the same color as the walls sat in the middle of the room, with its back to the door and faced towards the full-panel windows that existed in place of a wall. It wasn't the best of views, but he could see the sunset from here, and a portion of cityscape that was about as pretty as Gotham got. He sat down on the right side, crossing his leg and leaning back into the cushion. There was a television in the corner, but it was rarely used. He preferred to sit and watch the city from his little hideaway. He opened the bag and popped an Oreo into his mouth, quietly chewing as he thought of the day's events.

He frowned.

Some time passed like that, though Remil did not measure it. He was lost in his trance, only broken when the sound of footsteps in the hallway beyond the door caught his attention. He twisted himself around to look as the door opened, and his roommate stepped in.

They were dressed immaculately in a pinstripe black suit, with a matching tie and dress shoes. With their thin figure, one could easily mistake her for a man. Her face was pretty, he supposed, with a veneer of a cocky smile plastered on as the swagger of her normal step degenerated into an exhausted shambling, once she knew no strangers were watching. She used her forearm to wipe off her brow, and her large, reddish-brown eyes caught sight of the fridge with delight.

Her hair was blonde, and erratically styled, two long locks of hair framing the side of her face and dwarfing the rest of what could otherwise be a pixie cut. She casually set aside her own briefcase, throwing the door to the fridge open and gleefully grabbing a pair of beers from the top shelf. She used her foot to shut the door once more, traipsing out to the living room. That was when she noticed Remil on the sofa.

"Oh, hey kid. You're back early." She said in a brusque tone, perking up a bit as she sat down. He nodded at her once, slowly chewing on another Oreo. She offered him one of the beers, mostly an afterthought, but he shook his head. She shrugged and opened it herself, downing a few chugs before looking over at him again.

"You look a little more thoughtful than usual. Something up?"

Remil shook his head no. "Just a long day at work."

She frowned, disapproving of his demeanor with a glance. "You know, I don't have to be a mind reader to tell there's something on your mind. Spill it."

After a moment's silence, Remil bowed his head and allowed himself a little grin. "You're very good at that."

"I've got family like you." She responded, taking another sip of her drink as she threw an arm over the back of the couch. "You start to pick up on what they're thinking underneath the act."

"That so?" he asked, without really expecting an answer. Another pause, and he decided to open up. "I was visited today, at work. A pair of police officers."

She stopped him there, a hint of concern in her eyes. "Hold up, you in trouble? I'm not much of a private practice attorney, but if you need someone to take your case—"

Remil dismissed her with a wave and a chuckle. "Heh, no, nothing like that. They were asking what my uncle knew about a new crime boss in Gotham."

"Did he know anything?" she asked.

"Yes." Was all Remil replied with, leaning forward as he popped another Oreo into his mouth. His companion looked warily his way.

"Your uncle doesn't seem the type to share that kind of information."

More silence, as Sionis chose his answer carefully. "…He didn't."

She nodded, finishing off the last sip of beer and setting the empty can at her feet. She grabbed the second drink, popping the tab open and downing another gulp. "So, did you tell them how you really found out?"

Remil shook his head, looking rather ashamed. "Why would I? It would only cause more trouble. More than it would be worth."

"OK. So that happened." She said nodding astutely, seemingly proud of her blatant observation. "Call me crazy, but I don't see why that's got you down so bad. You helped a couple cops go after some nutjob."

Remil slowly breathed out through his nostrils, lost in thought for a moment. "It… wasn't just that, though. Walking back, I saw Barbara—the Commissioner's daughter, and a boy she was with. They chased after some people chasing some kid, and helped fight them off."

He shrugged, not sure what to say for himself. "They didn't even know the boy's name. They just stepped in, and put themselves at risk for his sake."

His conversational partner swirled her can around, listening to the sloshing liquid within. She focused on it, clearly processing a few thoughts in her own, increasingly-addled mind. "And you're… jealous?" she guessed. The idea stung Remil, but he supposed it was true.

"Sometimes, I just see the way these people dedicate themselves to helping others. They never expect anything in return, they just… do it. Sometimes I wonder if I'm wasting potential. If I should be out there doing the same thing."

His roommate stared at him for a minute, examining him, before looking back outside. The sky was tinted with a bit of yellow and orange now, as the sun began its downward journey. She gave an appreciative sigh, and smiled a bit.

"You know, Remil, you really amaze me sometimes. I don't think I've ever seen somebody with as little at stake on this planet as you, but you always feel like you need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders."

He didn't respond, and in the silence she chugged down the rest of her beer. Setting the can down, she leaned back and set the back of her head into her hands, staring up at the ceiling for a moment.

"…I knew a kid a lot like you, before I started traveling. Always so uptight, and freaked out about his life. What he needed to do with himself."

Remil looked her way, curiosity creeping on his face. "What did he do?" he asked.

She grinned and said, "He found where he wanted to be in life; what the world, and the people he loved needed him for. Then he did that."

She stood, stretching her back and her arms out a bit as she did. "Ahh, wow… tired. Think I'm gonna go take a nap. I'll guess you're crashing on the couch again?"

Remil gave a sheepish sort of smile, and averted his eyes. "Same as always."

She glared at him in displeasure and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know why you insist on breaking your back sleeping on this contraption. I'm pretty sure you're not some perv, ya know, you can share the bed if you'd like a good night's sleep for once."

The boy's grin grew wider, and he steadfastly refused. She threw her hands up in defeat, not one to pursue the matter. She smiled and reached over, tussling his hair with her hand.

"Y'know, you're a good guy, Remil… or whatever your real name is."

She turned around and made her way down a short hall to her bedroom door. She looked back long enough to add, "Don't forget that," before shutting the door behind her.

Click

Remil felt a wave of warmth wash over him, happy for the affirmation. He uncrossed his legs, hunching forward to watch the sunset. The thought still lingered in his mind, though. A simple, peaceful life was all he wanted…

But he could do more.