| Last Time - August 19, 2003
| Lyla's Apartment
His feet stopped right at the door of it and colour began draining from his face. His hand hastily gripped the knob, turned it and pushed. His whole body was screaming at him to get inside.
The reason for such behaviour was simple. Upon nearing the door, his nostrils had been attacked by a familiar smell. It was a scent he knew all too well and that's what spurred on his urgency to get inside.
Immediately after entering…
He froze.
Chapter 5
| August 18, 2003
| Outside of Lyla's Apartment
"H-hey man…" One of his 'friends' said, his body language speaking volumes about his opinion as he fidgeted nervously, his eyes darting around in a paranoid manner. "Do you think this is a good idea? What if that guy comes back?"
The others didn't say it, but he knew they somewhat shared the same concerns. After all, it hadn't been that long since they had all got their asses handed to them in that alley by one man.
"You all saw him leave," He scoffed, before gesturing to the empty hallway they were in. "Does it look like he's coming back?"
The anger boiling up within him became stronger at the still uncertain expressions plastered among his little friend group. He turned to the slightly shorter brunette beside him and lightly shoved him.
"Oi, don't be fucking pussies," He growled, though most of his anger was directed at the guy who beat him and his boys up. The humiliation of being defeated even with more numbers along with the fact that he was denied that sweet piece of ass had been the fuel for him to follow the woman and her friend to this apartment
A twisted grin grew on his face at the thought. Excitement was evident on the glint in his eyes as he turned back to the door in front of him. Her door.
With her escort gone, she had no one left to protect her. No one left to stop him from taking what he wanted.
"Come on boys, if that fucker wanted to come back, he would have already," He snickered. "Stop fucking pissing yourselves and lets have our fun, eh?"
A few seconds of glancing between each other and then confident smirks appeared on all their previously fear-stricken faces. "Let's fuck the bitch."
"Music to my ears, boys," He chuckled. "Now stand back." He said, stepping back a bit from the door before raising his foot. He then swiftly kicked the door with enough force to open it, even if it was locked.
And without further ado, the group of young delinquents entered.
As the night stretched on, muffled screams echoed around the walls. Some heard the cries and pleas for help, but no one came to the rescue nor did anyone call the authorities.
When the sun had risen, they all left the building with satisfaction written all over their faces, proud of the sick crimes they've committed. Meanwhile, no one would ever find the body until the next day.
| August 26, 2003 - Present Time
| At the Funeral
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
He didn't know when it started raining. For all he knew it could have been raining the whole time. He didn't know when the funeral began or ended either, he just came, stood perfectly still in front of her grave and stayed there.
He could remember hearing faint voices, some he recognised, some he didn't. Most of them were simply offering their condolences while others said good things about Lyla.
He didn't pay attention to any of them. In fact, he didn't pay attention to anything these days. The time between the fated funeral itself and the day he found her body was apparently around a week, but it didn't feel that way to him.
It felt like only a minute had passed since that day. It felt like only a minute had passed since he found her corpse. Since he held her lifeless body in his arms. Since he looked into her cold, dead eyes. Since he gazed upon her defiled, mangled form.
It was a stark contrast to how he'd seen her last. How she looked when he left her.
She was happy then.
Full of energy.
And most importantly, she was alive.
He couldn't see his own reflection as he stared at the grave, but he looked a lot like her in the moment. His eyes had lost all its brightness much like his pale face. His body was impossibly still similar to her corpse.
His insides were just as empty as his outside. His mind was blank.
What should he have been feeling? What should he have been thinking about?
Was he supposed to feel sad? Was he supposed to cry?
He didn't know. All he felt was…nothing. Just nothing. He felt completely numb.
Honestly, he preferred this over the alternative where he'd weep. He didn't want the pain. He didn't want the all too familiar pain to surge through him again.
"Please?" His voice broke when the word slipped out of his lips as he closed his eyes. He silently pleaded to whatever deity that still remained in this world for him to stay like this, just for now at least. His prayers were unanswered of course.
At that moment, the images of seeing her dead body were being replaced by happier ones. The ones where she was alive. The ones where she was smiling. The ones where she was with him. The ones where he could feel her warmth.
One would think that was good, but it was far from it. The mental pictures only further reminded him of what he'd lost. Of what he was missing.
He was expecting all the grief and depression to come flooding into his body at once, but it was much worse. The pain entered his body slowly, invading every nook and cranny of his entire being, agonisingly torturing him with every fleeting second.
His heart burned. It was cracking ever so slightly.
His breathing was heavy. His chest rose and fell erratically.
His eyes were moist. Tears were welling up in them.
His fingers were twitching. It was barely noticeable.
His legs were shaking. They were fighting against the gradually increasing weight on his shoulders.
.
.
.
Minutes passed and his state worsened. But, he held strong. He fought back, defying the odds stacked against him. Alas, it was a losing battle and he was only delaying the inevitable.
.
.
.
When the dam of emotions broke, everything failed.
It began with his lower body. He fell to his knees shakily, his body unable to fight against the pain of loss flowing throughout his body.
Then the tears came. They poured out of his eyes uncontrollably like a flood as his heart shattered into a million pieces.
Sobbing, Percy's hands balled into fists as he gripped them tightly, so tight in fact that he was drawing blood, but he didn't care.
His whole body felt weak as he knelt on the ground. He tried closing his eyes but the tears never stopped. He tried to stand but failed, his body only growing more dependent, searching for anything to anchor it down back to reality, to support it, which is how his hands found themselves grabbing onto the gravestone in front of him.
He was stable for the most part with help from it, but he was still in unbelievable pain.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Tears fell on the ground alongside the raindrops. His hands were clutching the slab of stone placed in front of him so hard it began to crack, small crevices were appearing on the topside.
.
.
"Why?" His voice came out absolutely broken, mirroring the state of his body, both mentally and physically.
That was his only question. That was the only thought that ran through his head at that moment.
Why?
Why'd she die? Why'd she suffer? Why was she taken from him?
If anyone deserved to be in pain. If anyone deserved to die. If anyone deserved to suffer. It should have been him and he would have gladly accepted it if that meant only HE would be in pain.
…but why her? What had she done to deserve this? What had she done to die in such a way? What had she done to suffer such a tragic fate?
His head shot upwards.
"WHY!?" He screamed to the heavens as thunder boomed in the distance.
The rain was landing on his puffy eyes and his grief-stricken face but he continued to glare at the sky. His lips parted slightly before closing again. They were trembling, quivering as he gazed into the dark clouds above him.
His eyes were glued to the skies, desperate to search for some kind of answer. Some kind of reason as to why she died. Why Lyla had to suffer through that.
Images of her brilliant smile that could put even Apollo's to shame. Her vibrant, brown eyes that were so full of life, passion and innocence. Her angelic face that never seemed to frown, that always appeared happy. They all flashed through his eyes.
The feeling of her hand on his. The feeling of her arms wrapped around him, comforting and soothing him. The feeling of her warmth against his body. The feeling of her lips on his. He was reminded of it all in his mind. Reminded of how he'll never feel those sensations ever again.
The memories of her making him smile. Making him laugh. Making him happy. The memories he'd spent with her alongside their friends, having the best time of their lives. The memories he'd made with her ever since they met. They were all flashing through his very tear-stricken eyes.
Lyla was one of the best people he's ever come to know. One of the best friends he's ever had. One of only a few whom he had come to see as more than just a friend. One of only a few whom he had to come like romantically.
She was also more than just the woman he liked. She represented what could've been his second chance. A second chance at the life he'd always wanted. A second chance at falling in love.
And she was now gone.
His second chance was gone. Taken from him. After everything he had done and fought for just to get it, it was all for naught because in the end, he lost it.
That feeling of defeat, knowing that all that effort he had poured into moving on, trying to open up again, giving his new life and home a chance. Knowing that it was all for nothing.
It made him angry.
The skies suddenly became even darker. The rainfall was becoming heavier. The wind was picking up speed.
His head had now dropped. His hands fell limply at his sides.
Mustering up all the strength he could, Percy tried to stand up. With a grunt he raised one leg first before using it as support to bring the other one up. Then, he carried his whole body up. Though unsteady, he was able to stand on both his feet.
His knees buckled initially, appearing to fall once more but he didn't allow it. He grit his teeth as he fought back intensely. Determination flowed through his mind then to the rest of his body.
A second passed. Then another and another.
Soon, he was able to finally stand properly. The weight was still present but it was dismissible.
Although he could now stand on his own and he'd already stopped crying, Percy's heart still ached.
A fact that only made him angrier.
He clenched his fists again as a scowl broke out on his face.
Breathing heavily, he slowly turned around and walked away.
| Park Row, GCPD Precinct 13
With the funeral having been held nearby Lyla's apartment, the distance between the burial site and the police station in her district was considerably shortened. As a result, it made Percy reach it faster than if he were to travel from his own home.
He only paused for a moment outside the entrance when he got to his destination. There, he could hear several distinct noises coming from inside the building and it only got louder once he walked through the front doors.
Upon his arrival, he'd already garnered the attention of whoever passed by due to the fact that he was soaked from his head all the way to his toes. He ignored the stares, his feet not stopping even after his entrance as it led him to the center of the bustling precinct.
He stopped momentarily for his eyes to get the chance to scan the huge place. Desks were littered all over the floor, their surfaces occupied by stacks of paper and computers to go along with them. Cells containing thugs of all kinds were placed on the left side of the building. And further along the middle were two sets of stairs that led to a second floor with even more desks and a big office in the middle.
His gaze passed by them, but they weren't what he was focused on.
Men and women wearing uniforms crowded the building; a lot of them were walking around the place with a few appearing to be in a hurry, some were busy shoving criminals into the holding cells to join their other detainees and some were just sitting idly by their desks, either drinking, eating or both.
They were who he was focused on, his eyes darting from person to person as he looked—
"Hey." A hand grabbing onto his wet arm shook him out of his search, causing him to turn around. His attention immediately went to the brown-skinned man's face, and not long after, he turned his back on him.
Not the person he was looking for either.
"Hey," The detective repeated, slight irritation slipping into his voice at being ignored. "What are you—"
The rest of the words died in the man's throat when Percy quickly spun around once more. The angry glower on his face never vanished since he left Lyla's grave, so as he finally gave the policeman a good look at his expression, it was open on display for him, causing the man's face to pale.
He backed off instantly, letting go of the black-haired man.
"You're all good man, just…try to dry yourself off, yeah?" He said swiftly before walking away.
With the hindrance gone, Percy went back to his search, this time his body walked around as he did to cover more ground. It was not long after that he was suddenly grabbed again, feeling a hand clutch his shoulder.
"Kid…?" His body moved so fast, he took both the detectives behind him by surprise as he now faced them.
The man who'd grabbed him was Detective Crispus Allen, a bald, dark-skinned man sporting a grey blazer over a light blue dress shirt. Percy knew him. After all, he was one of the two cops assigned to the case of Lyla Brown's murder.
The other was standing right beside him. A Hispanic woman with raven black hair that fell just past her shoulders. She was Allen's partner, her name was Detective Renee Montoya. Her attire consisted of an ash grey trench coat over a dark, navy blue button shirt.
The former almost looked amused as he inspected Percy's state after retracting his hand. "What are you doing here, kid?" He asked, his voice sounding as gruff as when he'd last spoken to him.
"I know who killed Lyla," Was his curt reply, his scowl disappearing as his lips formed into a thin line. He was most definitely still angry, but it was more controlled now for the time being.
The detective wouldn't say it outloud, but when he met Percy's cold gaze, it made some of the hair on the back of his head stand, causing him to pause for a moment before speaking.
"Okay…" Allen nodded, crossing his arms. "Let's—"
"So…" Montoya interjected. "You're only giving us this crucial information — that could've helped a lot in the investigation — now after a week. And when we last asked you if you knew of anyone who would have wanted to hurt Miss Brown, you didn't give us an answer." Her brows furrowed slightly as she spoke, not angry but not exactly delighted either.
However, her voice had an edge to it that Percy mistook as irritation for him having withheld the information until now, so he turned his attention to the woman and glared.
Allen, seeing this, cleared his throat to direct Percy's focus back to him. "Now now partner, the kid must've still been in shock at the time, so we can't really blame him," He said with a stern tone.
Montoya's expression visibly softened at that, realising her mistake. She hadn't meant to sound as harsh as she did, but the exhaustion from having come up with dead ends at every turn ever since the investigation began made her mood foul.
She didn't offer any verbal apology though. Not that Percy wanted one.
"They—" Percy tried to continue, ignoring the apologetic look that the Hispanic woman sent his way, but was stopped.
"Could you hold that thought for a minute," Allen said suddenly before grasping the
shoulder of a shorter man that was walking by, effectively stopping him in his tracks.
Once the man was looking at him, Allen said. "Hey, could you get us a towel for him?" He pointed at Percy. He let go of him after earning a quick nod as he turned back to the younger, but taller man.
"Sorry about that, but we can't really have you dripping all over the floor. Just had it cleaned last week," He said. A pause. "How are you, kid?"
Percy pursed his lips. He really didn't want to do small talk. He wanted to do what he came to do then leave.
"Great. Having the time of my life," He said, sarcasm literally dripping from the words as they rolled off his tongue. "Also, I'm not a kid." He added icily, irritation visible through his narrowed eyes.
"Ah, of course, my apologies. It's just…nevermind," He cleared his throat. "So what should I—"
"Percy's fine," He interrupted rudely, but neither of the detectives in front of him called him out on it.
"Alright, then Percy—"
"Do you want to listen to what I have to say or not?" He asked bluntly, tired of waiting.
"We want to. Definitely, just…" Allen began, but paused when he saw the same man from earlier running towards him with a towel on hand.
"There," The man tossed it to the detective.
"Thanks," He uttered to the man who left as swiftly as he came before passing the towel over to Percy. "Here, use this."
Percy silently complied, starting off with drying his wet hair. "Can I talk now?"
Allen shared a quick glance with his partner and nodded, before they both turned to him with open ears.
"Let's hear it, Percy."
"That night…"
"This is the same night she was killed, right?" Allen inquired, getting a slow nod in reply. "'Kay go on."
"On the way to her place we encountered some kids."
"Kids?" Allen repeated, his brows scrunching. "How old?"
"A little younger than me," Percy paused, a scowl reappearing on his face as he balled his fists in rage. "They wanted to force themselves on her…"
The two partners' eyes widened slightly at that.
"What happened?"
"I didn't let them," Percy said. "I hit them a little bit and they passed out in the alleyway." It wasn't exactly a lie.
Allen looked unconvinced by his answer though he didn't press it. "Then…?"
"Lyla and I left them and I continued walking with her to her apartment. When we reached it, I left her there and went home," He was seething as he continued. "The kids must've followed her home and attacked her when I left. And-"
"Okay, okay, I think we get it," Allen interrupted before he could go off on a tangent. He paused for a few moments to think before he continued. "These kids…did you ever get any of their names?"
"No."
"Could you describe any of them at least?" Allen asked, taking out a notebook and a pen from his pocket.
Percy's grip on his fists tightened at that. He would never forget that face nor that voice.
"Yes," He nodded. "Their little leader."
"He was Italian…his accent gave it away. He was almost a foot shorter than me. His black hair was short, newly cut. He was a little round, overweight. He wore a gold watch on his left hand. There was also a scar on his right cheek. And one of his teeth was silver. Is that good enough for you, detective?"
It took a few seconds for Allen to reply as he'd been writing it all down.
"Yes. Yes it is," He nodded, tucking the notebook back into his pocket along with his pen. "Thank you, Percy. Rest assured, we'll look into them."
"What?" Percy asked, confused. "You're not going to arrest them?"
Montoya was the one to reply. "Not how it works, kid," She said, causing Percy to take a step towards her, his hands falling to his sides as he stopped drying himself with the towel.
"Did you hear a word I said?" He scowled at her, but Montoya remained unfazed and kept a serious expression as she took a step towards him as well, her hard gaze softening.
"I did. I'm not that much older than you, you do know that, right?" She said with a glint of amusement in her eyes. "But, what you gave us only makes them suspects. And they'll remain that way until my partner and I actually get some solid evidence to prove that they committed the crime."
Seeing Percy's anger not being lessened in the slightest at her explanation, Allen decided to give him some reassurance. "This was a big help though. You gave us a good lead, one we'll follow up on and will hopefully help speed up the investigation."
"…and if these kids are the ones who did this, then we'll catch them. You have my word," he added.
Percy stared into his eyes quietly for a few moments. When his gaze broke off from Allen's, he threw the towel at the detective.
"Contact me when you get them," He said, turning around. He was about to walk away when a hand grabbed his arm.
Surprisingly, it was Montoya who'd taken a hold of him. "What?"
She didn't respond at first. Instead, she opted to shoot him a small, genuine smile.
"We'll find whoever did this. You can trust us, okay?" He didn't give a reply, his gaze only lingering on her for a few seconds before he pulled his arm away from her and left the precinct quietly.
The sound of footsteps reached her ears as Allen went to her. Neither broke the stillness between them for a few moments.
"I like him," Allen said suddenly with a grin.
Montoya rolled her eyes at her partner.
"Come on, let's get to work."
"Right behind ya, partner."
| Lyla's Apartment Building
| August 28, 2003
"I have no idea what you're talking about…"
The conversation he had not moments ago replayed in his mind, causing Percy to grit his teeth in both frustration and anger as he walked to the last apartment in the hallway.
He hadn't been sitting still for the past two days. While the detectives were busy investigating, he was busy as well. He'd questioned a number of people in the neighbourhood, asking around if anyone had knowledge of the whereabouts of a certain, young man.
The day before, he'd roamed around tirelessly until the evening, talking to every single person he could find, but he never got anything useful. That's what led him back to Lyla's apartment building as he hoped to find something useful. Something to help prove that those boys truly were the killers.
He had knocked on almost every apartment near to Lyla's, and everytime, the residents would either shut the door on him or give him nothing. Such was the reason for his sour mood on this particular morning.
When he reached the last apartment where someone could've possibly heard or even witnessed the crime, Percy sighed, trying to compose himself and make himself seem approachable so that the person would be more inclined to give him information.
A few seconds of silence and he knocked.
Unlike many of the other people he'd visited prior, the resident of apartment 315 gave an almost immediate response. Their footsteps echoed through the walls and shortly after, the door swung open.
"Good morning!" Said the young, black-haired man wearing a red hoodie. The smile he had when he opened the door was short-lived, quickly fading upon seeing Percy as a mixture of both horror and fear crossed his face.
Percy stayed quiet while his eyes narrowed at the boy's expression.
"H-hello sir, what can I do for you?" The man said, attempting to appear calm, but failing.
"August 18, 2003," Percy started and already the man's face was losing colour. "Around midnight, did you see or hear anything weird?"
The demigod's intimidating stature and height coupled with the menacing scowl on his face struck fear into the man, his face impossibly getting even paler as he tried to let out a reply.
"U-u-uhm…"
"Did you?" Percy reiterated, inching closer to the man, making him even more nervous.
He gulped. "N-no…I didn't…uh. Sir, if that's all then have a good—" The man stammered, smiling anxiously as he started closing the door on Percy. Although before he could even shut it or finish his sentence, Percy held the door in place with his hand, rage quickly building up in his eyes.
"Sir?" The man asked, scared for his life.
Percy's response was shoving him, causing him to be sent backwards and falling on his behind. In quick succession, Percy entered the apartment and closed the door behind him, but not before locking it, causing more fear to seep into the frightened boy's mind as he watched him come closer and closer.
Unable to stand due to Percy's presence, the boy opted to crawl farther and farther away from him, wanting to distance himself from the intruder. However, he soon had his back pressed against the wall, having unintentionally cornered himself. Without anywhere left to go and with Percy literally standing in front of him, staring him down, the man could only speak, and even that he was having trouble with doing.
"W-what do you want?"
Percy crouched in front of him, his face coming close to his. "Tell me what you know,"
He growled at him, causing a shiver to run down his spine.
"I-I d-don't—" He stumbled on his words, infuriating Percy more.
"TELL ME!" He snapped and at the same time his fist embedded itself into the wall behind the man, narrowly missing his head. The man stared at him, wide-eyed and a hundred times more terrified, his body frozen in place.
"I said…"
"Okay! Okay! I'll tell you!" The man raised his hands in defeat as he spoke before Percy could. "I was there, okay?"
The man quickly began to explain.
"I recognised you earlier…I saw you that night. You were with Lyla. I know her, she's a nice girl…" He panicked when he heard Percy growl again. "Y-you were both by her door when I entered my place, just got home cause I was held up at work."
He inhaled shakily. "Anyway…later, I'm guessing about half an hour after…I…" He avoided Percy's gaze as he continued. "I heard a noise outside and I went to check it out. It came from her apartment…there were like four guys outside and they kicked down her door…"
Percy's eyes widened. "Stop," He said, causing the man to look at him, confused. "Tell me…did any of them look like…" He then proceeded to describe the appearance of the same boy he suspected to be the murderer.
He was frozen into silence momentarily once the boy nodded. Afterwards, he inhaled sharply.
He was right.
.
.
.
He pulled his arm out of the wall and stood up, though his eyes still never left the boy.
He'd gotten what he wanted.
…but, he needed to know one last thing.
"Why?" He clenched his fists.
"W-what?"
"You saw it, right?" At his question, the man dropped his head guiltily before nodding in confirmation.
"Then why…" He snarled. "Why didn't you do anything?"
The man sighed. "You don't know…those guys…"
"Their leader…he's…"
| Giovanni's Italian Restaurant
| August 28, 2003
Detectives Renee Montoya and Crispus Allen were currently standing in front of the entrance to the Italian restaurant, their investigation having led them there after they'd found out exactly who Percy had described to them.
Suffice to say, the case was made much more complicated as a result of their realisation.
"I'll give it to him. Kid's got some luck," Allen snickered as they waited by the doors, hoping to expel some of the tension off his partner's shoulders.
In all the years he'd known his partner, Montoya has shown that she was not afraid of anyone, no matter who they were, and she rarely ever looked uneasy. This was one of those rare instances.
Allen knew that behind her hardened exterior, she was a little anxious for the upcoming encounter. He sure as hell was. After all, it wasn't everyday they would be meeting up with one of the most powerful gangsters in Gotham.
"You got that right," Montoya agreed, allowing a small grin to form momentarily on her face before her default expression returned.
It was at that moment when the entrance opened, a man wearing a black tuxedo with matching black pants and bow tie came out to greet them.
"Mister Maroni shall see you now," The man said, standing to the side as he bowed politely while holding out the door for them.
The two detectives shared a glance, nodding to each other before entering the establishment.
The restaurant was very lively, filled with customers dining in. The sounds of food being eaten as well as their chattering reached both the detectives' ears upon their arrival.
Not long after walking in, the man from before joined them. "This way, signore," He said to Allen, gesturing for him and his partner to follow, which they did.
They were then led further into the restaurant, passing by numerous tables and waiters carrying dishes on the way. Eventually, they arrived at their destination, a table on the far left — secluded from all the others — with three seats. One was already occupied, conveniently leaving two left.
By the table, there were four tall men in suits, their arms crossed as they stared down at the two officers who'd been led there. Their guide left, having excused himself after he had finished his job of bringing them to his boss.
Allen spoke up first, his eyes fixed on the man sitting down. "GCPD," He said, flashing his badge. "Name's Detective Allen, this here is…" He gestured to the woman beside him. "My partner, Detective Montoya. We—"
"Come, sit," The man with a big belly — seen through the suit he wore — said, interrupting him, all while his gaze remained glued to the plated lobster in front of him.
"I don't think—"
"I insist," The man turned his head to look at Allen, his face finally unhidden. His brown eyes bore into Allen's as a smirk tugged on the man's lips.
"Alright."
No words needed to be exchanged between the two partners as they took the seats placed on the opposite side of the table facing the man they'd come to see.
Now that they were both seated, the man shot them both a toothy grin.
"Welcome! I'm Giovanni Maroni."
This was him. The man they'd come to see. Any average Gothamite who didn't know much about the criminal underworld of Gotham would not recognise the man sitting across the table. Montoya and Allen were different though. Being seasoned detectives as well as having more extensive knowledge than most about the criminals who plagued the city, they knew who he was.
Giovanni Maroni, the younger brother of the late Salvatore Maroni, the former Don of the Maroni crime family, and an underboss in the Cobblepot crime family. His position in the criminal organisation, what he could do, who he had power over, the kind of influence he had on multiple districts. Both detectives knew very well about.
"We know who you are," Montoya said bitingly, her lips pursed into a thin line. "We're here to ask you a couple questions regarding a case."
"Cutting to the chase, straight to business. I like that," Giovanni said, not losing his grin. The Hispanic detective looked unamused much like her partner as they both stared at him with scrutinising gazes. "Very well. Anything to help out Gotham's finest."
"Do you know where your nephew was last August 18 from 12 a.m to 2?" Allen asked.
"Umberto?" Allen nodded.
"Nah. Kid's family and I love him to death, but I don't know where that little rascal goes off to with his little posse. Was probably banging some whore," He barked with laughter, though it quickly died down at the lack of reactions from his audience. "Why? He in some kind of trouble?" He asked, feigning concern.
"That's what we're trying to find out," Allen said carefully. "Could we speak with him?"
"Afraid ya can't do that, detective," Giovanni said.
"And why is that?" Allen asked, suspicious.
"He's been in Korea for the last two weeks and last I checked he was still there," He answered.
"Hm," Allen mused aloud, allowing the corners of his lips to curl upwards into a small smile. "You see that's funny cause we have a witness who claims to have seen your nephew in Gotham twelve days ago."
For a moment, Giovanni lost his grin, something that didn't go unnoticed by the two detectives.
"Huh, well I don't know what to tell ya," He shrugged. "Kid's in Korea, maybe your guy was lying."
Before Allen could reply, Montoya beat him to it.
"Just so you know…" She glared at him. "If you know your nephew did something, and you're purposely hiding him from us…"
"You'll what?" Giovanni frowned. "I have to say I'm not liking that tone of yours, detective."
Allen was ready to intervene at a moment's notice as he watched his partner and Giovanni stare each other down. There was no need however as the gangster's expression immediately lit up after a few seconds, a smile erupting on his face. His laughter soon echoed around the table, prompting his bodyguards to join in as well.
"You're feisty, I like you," He grinned after he stopped laughing, enjoying the glare he elicited from Montoya. Shortly after he turned to Allen. "Got anymore questions for me, Detective Allen?"
"No, that's all of them," He replied, sighing as he stood up. Renee did the same. "Do give us a call when uhh…Umberto gets home. We'd still like to talk to him."
"Will do," Giovanni and Allen shot each other fake smiles as they shook each other's hand.
When Montoya and Allen turned to leave the table, they found Giovanni's men standing in the way, blocking their path out. Both detectives' eyes went to the gangster, looking at him in askance.
"Before you go though…" Giovanni grinned widely, flashing them his shiny teeth. "I'd just like to say good luck on catching whoever it is you're lookin for. Though I'm sure talented detectives such as you two don't need it. The both of yous will find 'im in no time and close the case…just like that." He snapped his fingers and his men dispersed.
Allen eyed the man warily. He muttered a quick thanks before leaving the restaurant with Montoya right behind him.
"He knows something," Montoya said once they were out. "The kid was right."
"Maybe," Allen said, deep in thought. "He was definitely lying about Umberto being out of the country, but other than that we have nothing. We can't really go back either since he won't give us anything and it'll be risky considering his temper." He glanced at his partner while uttering the last word.
"This'll be a little tricky," Allen admitted. "We don't have much to go on. Even with over a dozen people living near the vic, supposedly no one ever heard or saw anything. There was little to no evidence left at the scene of the crime. And our only suspect is Maroni's nephew."
"Only in Gotham," Montoya snorted, eliciting a chuckle out of her partner. "Nothing new."
"Yeah," Allen nodded with a fond smile despite the situation. "Nothing—"
The ringing of his phone cut him off. Pulling the device out, Allen quirked a brow at the unknown number before accepting the call.
"Hello."
"Percy?" Allen recognised the voice, gaining the attention of Montoya who immediately looked to him for an explanation. "How'd you get this number?"
"That doesn't matter, I figured a few things out."
"What do you—"
"The kid I described to you last time, his name's Umberto Maroni."
"I know."
"Did you also know that someone saw him and three others break into her apartment that night?"
He was stunned into silence for a good second. "No, I did not. How did you—"
"You're welcome."
"Wait a- damn," Allen said as the call ended instantly after. He placed his phone back into his pocket and turned to a confused Montoya who'd only heard of his half of the conversation.
"Turns out our boy did some digging of his own. Figured out our suspect's name, and apparently even got someone to talk. Said that they saw Umberto along with three others break into the vic's apartment the night of the murder," He said, smirking as he saw his partner have a similar reaction to him.
After a few seconds of being speechless, Montoya grinned. "I like this kid."
"He's a good kid," Allen agreed as they both began walking back to their car. "Think he'll consider switching career choices? Definitely need more men like him in the force."
"One can only hope."
.
.
.
In the vehicle once it started moving, Montoya remembered what Giovanni had said.
"…the both of yous will find 'im in no time and close the case…just like that."
His words had been bugging her ever since they left, uncertainty flooding her mind as a result.
"Something feels off…about all this," Montoya uttered out loud.
"Off how?" Allen turned to her.
"I don't know. Just got a bad feeling."
Allen sighed, directing his eyes back to the road.
"Yeah. Me too."
| Gotham State Penitentiary
| September 4, 2003 - A Week Later
"You gonna keep staring at my ugly mug or what?"
That annoyingly smug voice rang in his ears again, as if it was taunting him.
Percy had many scenarios play out in his head for when he would finally find himself face-to-face with the man responsible for the murder of Lyla. Admittedly, most of them were quite graphic and violent, and he wasn't ashamed in the slightest. The rest were less bloody, although they would've still been satisfying nonetheless.
Either way, he imagined himself feeling delight or a euphoric sense of jubilation since he'd be able to finally do what he had dreamed of doing ever since that day when he stood in front of his best friend's grave. Perhaps he could've even felt a little proud, having helped the two detectives who were working on the case.
But, right now, right here, as his sea-green eyes bore through the glass, staring directly at the man sitting on the other side, he didn't feel any of the above.
In fact, he was rather angry.
It'd been a few days since this man had been sent to Gotham State Penitentiary for his crimes, and Percy already found a way to visit him. Actually, he might even be his first visitor.
Currently he was sitting down, gazing at the thin man in a prison uniform in front of him. He's never said anything ever since his visit began, as he was still trying to process what the hell was going on.
He had helped Allen and Montoya.
He made that guy talk.
He said it himself. Four men broke into her apartment, one of them matching the description of the boy who'd attempted to force himself on Lyla earlier that night.
'So why…?'
Why was it not Umberto fucking Maroni who he was facing right now?
.
.
"You didn't kill her," Were the first words he chose to say.
Luca Mareli — the man who was found guilty for raping and killing Lyla — smirked in reply, the finely trimmed bush of hair sitting below his nose quirking upwards as he did.
"You don't say," He said, brow raised. "Lemme guess, she was your girl?"
Receiving a harsh glare in response made him chuckle. "That explains it." A pause. "Why're you here kid?"
"Why is Umberto not behind bars?" Percy demanded, gritting his teeth.
"Ah, that," Luca clicked his tongue in amusement. "That's an easy question actually. Expected something like…why'd you do it?" He said, trying to mimic Percy's voice.
Getting silence and more scowling from Percy in return, he decided to answer.
"So you're not a complete idiot, that's good," Luca grinned. "Hey. What's the kid's last name?"
Percy narrowed his eyes. "Maroni," He said. "But what does—"
It was at that moment that everything clicked inside his mind. Everything Falcone had told him about the man known as Giovanni Maroni replayed in his head and everything began to make sense.
The reason why that kid was scared of him. The reason Umberto got off scot-free. The reason why it was not him he was talking to right now. It was all because of him.
Many questions then began forming in his mind.
"That man knows how to hold a grudge."
Falcone had told him this, but he never really gave it much thought till now since it's been a year and he'd never encountered the man again. But, was that the reason why?
Was this him getting revenge for the time he saved Carmine? If so, why now? Why—
Luca's laughter brought him out of his musings, causing his attention to be focused back on him.
"So you've met him," He smirked at the look of realization that had crossed Percy's face. "Didn't think you actually knew the boss."
"Why is he doing this," Percy asked, now knowing it was Giovanni who was protecting Umberto. "How is he related to him?"
"He's his nephew," Luca answered with a smile. "You know…family, they always look out for each other, so don't even bother. Let it go, kid. You're out of your depth here. Only thing you can do now is to just walk away."
Percy was seething. He didn't care about that. He didn't care about what kind of power Giovanni had. He wasn't scared of him back then, he wasn't scared of him now.
If he was going to stand between him and Umberto, then he'd go after him too.
"No," He said resolutely, clenching his fists.
"Well…" Luca sighed. "Don't say I didn't warn ya."
"Umberto will rot in a cell, just like you. I'll make sure of it."
Luca eyed him up and down. "Nah. That'll never happen."
"And why's that?"
"Cops. Lawyers. Everyone has a price," He shrugged before smirking. "You think any of those narcs are gonna help you?"
Luca laughed at Percy's surprised expression. "Holy shit, did you actually think that?"
"Did you notice how no one batted an eye when I pleaded guilty? When I confessed to all my crimes? That must've looked sketchy as fuck, but everyone still looked the other way. Wanna know why? Because no one cares. No…"
His voice began fading away as he was too engrossed in his own thoughts.
"Because no one cares…"
When he said that, his mind went to Montoya and Allen.
They cared didn't they? They seemed like they did when he'd spoken to them.
…but what if they were merely deceiving him?
Doubt had begun to plague his mind as he questioned their intentions.
They wanted to help him right? They wanted to bring Lyla's killer to justice too…right?
Then he really thought about it.
If they wanted to genuinely help him, they would've arrested the right man. Instead, they arrested Luca. He told them that someone saw Umberto enter her room the night of the crime, but they still arrested Luca. Despite that fact, they still arrested the wrong man.
His heart skipped a beat as his eyes widened.
He was right. They weren't on his side either. They were just like all the others who looked the other way, not caring if he was truly the right man.
Luca's voice then returned to mock him. "Man, you really are an idiot, aren't you?
Percy remained silent as the man laughed at his expense.
.
.
.
Percy cut his laughter off by slamming his fist against the glass.
Everyone in the room froze, all the guards and inmates — including Luca — were staring at him agape. While his fist was definitely bleeding and it stung a fair bit, the damage sustained to it couldn't compare to damage done to the glass. It had multiple cracks on it now with even more being made by the second.
It looked like it was about to shatter.
In a split second, the guards burst into action. The ones on Luca's side immediately began dragging the prisoners back into their cells, while the others on Percy's side surrounded him. Their stances were cautious as they approached him.
"Sir, we're going to have to ask you to calm down and…"
He didn't look at them nor did he listen to whatever words poured out of their mouths. His eyes were fixed on the bewildered Luca, who was being sent back to his cell.
"I don't need help," He muttered, breathing heavily as he thought about what Luca had helped him realize.
He didn't need the detectives' help. He didn't need anybody's help. He knew that now.
He cursed quietly. He was already fuming with rage because of what Umberto had done to Lyla and how he'd evaded capture, but he was even more so now at finding out that he couldn't trust anyone.
He was angry at himself for having been naive enough to think Allen and Montoya could help. And he was much more angry at them for having betrayed his trust.
"Sir…" The guard's voice from behind him reminded him of his current situation.
He grunted, reeling his arm back away from the glass as he let it drop to his side while dismissing the searing pain in his fist as he unclenched it. The pain he felt currently at figuring out how much of a fool he'd been dwarfed it.
Without much delay after, his whole body turned towards the guards behind him and walked past them.
None of them dared to stop him from leaving the building.
| Gotham Police Department
| September 5, 2003
Allen almost spat out the coffee in his mouth when he saw Percy storming into the building. He hadn't seen him in over a week, so he was not expecting his arrival. He did, however, have some sort of an idea as to why he was here.
It hadn't been long since he and his partner had arrested Luca Mareli for the murder and rape of Lyla Brown, and since he got news that the man had been thrown into Gotham State Penitentiary after he was found guilty. He'd also learned recently that it was only a few days ago that Percy Jackson had decided to drop by the prison he was in to talk to him.
Judging by the scowl on Percy's face and knowing that he had visited Luca, he clearly knew something. Either the time he spent speaking with Luca had given him answers to certain questions or he had once again done his own investigations.
Regardless of the how, the fact was he, unlike the general populace, didn't seem to believe that Luca Mareli truly was the one responsible.
If he did, then he would surely be more happy now that the man who'd killed his friend was behind bars.
Allen was forced to stop making assumptions when Percy came to a full stop right in front of him.
"I just want to know one thing and one thing only, that's all I'm here for," Percy said quickly. Allen noticed anger seeping into his voice. "Why?" He asked, glaring at him.
"Why did you arrest Luca and not Umberto?"
Allen was silent for a moment as he set his mug down onto his desk. His lips then parted, but Percy interrupted him.
"It was him and you know it."
"So why—"
"All the evidence points to Luca being the culprit and he even confessed to doing the crime itself. The case is closed, Percy. Be happy that your friend's killer was caught and move on," Allen said. At that moment, he couldn't help but feel guilty for the unconvincing lies he'd spouted, unknowingly clenching his fists in disgust as a result.
He hated lying. It wasn't in his nature, but in this situation, it was for the greater good and for Percy's safety so he had to do it.
Percy's chuckles brought him out of his thoughts. "You really believe that, don't you?" He said as his head dropped for a moment. Allen heard him let out a long sigh before raising head, his face now smiling which unnerved the detective.
"You know…he said that you didn't care, that no one would help me. I believed him at the time, but after I gave it some more thought I wanted to see for myself," Percy's eyes didn't look like they held much anger for him, confusing Allen as he instead saw resignation and acceptance.
"Now I'm sure of it," Percy said, nodding. "He was right. Everyone has a price, even you and your partner. And I guess Maroni paid just the right amount, yeah?"
Allen was silent now.
Percy didn't care if the man looked guilty as he turned around.
"If you won't do the right thing, then I will. Unlike you, I won't allow myself to be bought or manipulated," He said, about to leave.
"See you around, detective." Were Percy's parting words as he walked away.
It looked like Percy had the final word until he found his arm being grabbed before he could get far. He turned around and saw Allen behind him, a serious expression on his face.
"Come with me," Allen said, leaving no room for an argument.
Percy eyed him suspiciously before he eventually nodded, allowing himself to be dragged to an empty corner in the precinct without many people nearby to eavesdrop on them. He was pressed against the wall with Allen in front of him. Said cop's eyes were darting around, paranoid.
It was only after Allen was absolutely sure no one could hear them that he directed his focus back to Percy.
"I'm only doing this because I don't want you doing anything reckless that could get you killed," Allen said. "So listen well and don't tell anyone about what I'm about to say to you, okay?"
Percy looked skeptical but nodded.
This time, Allen spoke softer, more quiet. "First of all, I'm not on Maroni's payroll and neither is my partner," He said defensively, repulsed by the thought of him or Montoya ever working for that man. "And secondly, yes, you are right. It is Umberto who did it, not Luca."
Percy's eyes widened, surprised to find no deceit within Allen's words. He still didn't fully trust him though, confused about who to believe. Allen didn't sound like he was lying, but…
"Why didn't you arrest him then? Why let him go?" He said, voicing out his doubts that held him back from completely trusting the detective.
"It's complicated," Allen sighed, pausing to think of what to say. "What do you know about gangsters in Gotham, Percy?"
He wasn't sure of the purpose of asking such a question, but he still decided to answer, mulling over what he knew in all the time he's spent in Gotham before talking.
"They were in charge. People like Falcone were running things, and no one could rival them. Now they're gone."
Allen didn't question him about how he knew the name Falcone and Percy was silently relieved about that.
"You're right and you're wrong," Upon seeing Percy's confusion, Allen clarified. "Falcone isn't the one running things around here anymore. Some say he's dead. Some say he went into hiding. Some say he fled the country. Either way, he's gone, but that doesn't mean others like him are too."
Allen knew his explanation was not at all helpful and was more vague than anything else, but he couldn't let him know too much.
"The fact of the matter is that, despite the Bat doing his crusading everyday, there are still a lot of very powerful bad guys out there, evading the law," Allen grimaced. "And let's just say the boy we both want behind bars is related to one of those guys."
"…Maroni?"
"Maroni," Allen nodded.
"What are you and your partner doing about it?"
"We're working on it," Allen said, his tone sounding concerned when he continued. "This is why you can't do whatever you're thinking of doing, Percy. It's too dangerous, these people…you can't just go after them like that. If it was that easy, believe me, all of them would be locked up."
"Look, I appreciate what you did before, helping us out like that though you could've gotten in trouble for it," Allen said. "But you have to stop here. Leave this work to the professionals. Montoya and I are on the case, you can trust us. We'll get Umberto AND Giovanni, that I can promise you."
"How long?" Percy asked, his anger returning as he glared down at his fists. "How long would I have to wait until Umberto is caught?"
A beat. "I'm sorry…"
"…but you're gonna have to wait a while longer."
Allen felt his heart crack a little at that statement, but he didn't let it show, keeping his normal expression on. This wasn't the first time he's had a conversation similar to this with certain friends and family members of victims, but it still hurt to know that he couldn't do anything to help them, that it wouldn't be for a very long while until the people who'd done wrong against them would be brought to justice.
All because those very people were untouchable, above the law due to their wealth and influence. He hated it. Not having the ability or freedom to do anything against them. Having to be careful with every little thing he says or does because one wrong move could jeopardise the whole operation and could even get him taken off the force.
He couldn't do anything right now. Not yet. So he watched as Percy once again wordlessly began to walk away, but stopped suddenly when he was a few feet away from him.
"I trust you."
Then he left.
.
.
.
Later when he met up with Montoya, he told her everything.
"You told him?" She looked at him incredulously, the volume of her voice having been louder than normal. "Do you have any idea what kind of danger you could be putting him in?"
"I know the risks, Renee," Allen sighed, avoiding her gaze. "Besides, I didn't tell him much, just enough to get him to give up. I wasn't gonna watch him get himself killed."
"…and he deserved to know the truth. We owe him that much at least," He added.
A pause, then he switched topics. "So…" He cleared his throat. "How'd it go? Got anything?"
"Nope," Montoya frowned.
"Yeah, thought so," Allen snickered, rubbing his eyelids in slight irritation.
Seeing her partner in such a state, Montoya placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Hey, we'll catch him…and his uncle. Don't worry."
"I know…" Allen shot her a sad smile. "It's just…the job, everything's kinda getting to me."
Montoya nodded, familiar with the feeling. "We've all been there."
"City's a dark place. It's our job to shine some light on it. But, sometimes, even we have a little trouble seeing," She said. A pause. "The kid's gonna be okay."
Allen chuckled. "Damn right. He's a tough nut, that one…kinda reminds me of you actually."
Montoya raised a brow at his claim, but she made no attempt to deny it.
The two descended into silence for a good minute.
"You okay?" She asked, seeing the distant look in her partner's eyes.
"I'll be fine."
'I'm sorry, kid.'
| MacLaren's Pub
| September 5, 2003
"…but you're gonna have to wait a while longer."
"Leave it to the professionals."
He did not want to leave it to them. He wanted to do something
He did not want to keep waiting. He wanted to see that little shit behind bars.
Percy frowned as he downed another glass of alcohol. Currently, he was back in MacLaren's Pub all alone while he drank and drank. He was there to gather his thoughts to think of what to do next and to also calm himself down, having been restless ever since he left the police station.
The drinks were helping ease his nerves a little, but the emotions within him were still active as ever.
His body was screaming at him to move. Screaming at him to get out there and do the exact opposite of what Allen told him to do. And Percy found himself agreeing.
He did say he trusted Allen and to an extent, Montoya. He meant it too, but they had another thing coming if they thought he was just going to sit around and hope for the best while the man truly responsible for Lyla's death was out there, enjoying his freedom.
He wanted to do it himself. He wanted to find him. He wanted to hurt him. Hurt him badly.
At that very moment, someone apparently heard his wish.
And granted it.
.
.
.
The entrance to the pub opened.
Footsteps followed.
Then came that voice.
"Ahh…hey, what do you boys want?"
His breath hitched. His heart stopped. His whole body was rooted in place. All for one second.
He heard their voices. He heard them as they took their tables. He heard them as they took their orders. He looked normal for the most part as he did, but in truth, there was a storm raging inside of him. Two sides had already begun battling for dominance about what to do.
He was breathing heavily now. His eyes were dilated as they stared at the bottom of the empty glass in front of him. His fists were clenched. His feet were twitching, aching to move and in all honesty, he was so very tempted to see where his darkest desires would lead him if he were to give in.
But the part of him that was rational kept whispering in his ear, restraining him from doing so no matter how hard it was.
"Just walk away."
The detectives were on the case. He could just ignore them and mind his own business. Besides, Allen and Montoya would get him eventually, right?
He said he trusted them. He did. But could he truly trust them?
The uncertainty was tearing him apart.
Because he really did have no idea what would happen if he just let them go now.
If he took matters into his own hands though…Umberto and his friends would never be a problem, ever again.
There were two choices in front of him. Two parts of himself inside his body fighting to win.
If Lyla or Annabeth were here by his side, making a decision would've been easy. He would've been more sure of himself. He wouldn't be filled with so much doubt. But, neither were present. Both were dead.
It was at that moment that something snapped.
A side won.
.
.
.
He stood up from his seat.
And his feet moved.
He was headed towards Umberto.
Then all he saw was red.
AN: Damn, shit really bout to hit the fan now.