Under the Foundation

by cringethinking

The death of Max’s sister destroyed her childhood and her family. Twenty years later she still digs for the truth as a journalist in Gotham. When she meets someone on a fringe website called Nigma, the layers of her foundation and that of Gotham’s inexplicable corruption begins to crack. Based on the universe of Matt Reeve’s Batman and Riddler Year One comic.

18. My Happy Place

Chapter 18: My Happy Place

In therapy I learned a few coping strategies for panic attacks. When my thoughts get so dark I can't breathe. They would tell me to go to my happy place. I didn't know what that meant. What is my happiest place underneath all the clutter of the worst? Can I even remember something like that when all I'm trying to do is cling on for life? How far back do I need to go? Then I started thinking about it when I was okay. It went back so long I shouldn't remember it. A time where everything was whole and simple. Mr. Trunks was still my compass through the day. Celeste was still around to teach me magic in small things.

Our dad made us a spaceship from scratch. Just an assembly of cut out and taped boxes painted with stickers. Two seats for Celeste and I. When I walked into the garage, I didn't see cardboard or tape or stickers. I saw a galactic vessel, waiting for courageous astronauts to make it legendary. Made of aluminum and steel, a rocket prepared to expel mass. The astronaut suits my mom got us last Halloween still fit. Still complete with the unicorn stickers on my own. The Space Odyssey theme humming from Cece as she placed her hands to her hips in pride— doing a stance like any astronaut going to tread a world unknown. Our dad waited by the ship, saluting us and we saluted back. He had our ship on a moving lift laid flat. He sat before it as we sat in front. Mom brought in moving night lights of galaxies and even a fog machine.

Our dad called, "And I give to you, the bravest women to ever set course into space! Commander Cece and Major Cori!"

I yelled back, "And Mr. Trunks!"

"Yes!" Dad amended, "And Specialist Trunks, of course. They will be flying to the galaxy of space monkeys to discover their secrets for all of mankind!"

"No, Dad," scolded Cece, "We're going to make friends with the space monkeys!"

"Oh, how silly of me," chuckled Dad.

"It's okay. Just don't mess up again."

"Alright! The countdown will begin shortly! Have you said farewell to your family?"

Cece called, "Bye mom!" Mom was in the room setting up the lights and machine.

She called back, "Bye babies!"

"Tell my wife I loved her and I'm gonna die!" I called with as deep as I could make my voice.

Cece giggled, "Major!"

I had Mr. Trunks on my lap, Cece in front with the controls. Soon the garage started to fade into our metal holdings. Dad's voice was projected on a screen in our cockpit.

"We do this for America and for our classmates and teachers! And our cats!" Cece announced.

I whined, "But I don't go to school."

"You go to preschool, Major."

"That's different!"

Dad called over us, "The countdown begins now! Strap on your seatbelts! 5, 4, 3, 2, 1! Blast off!"

He raised the lift with us tilting upwards and started to shake it. Resembling the engines quaking our ship as we pushed from earth. Mom started the fog machine like the pillows of clouds from the rocket. The special effects were nulled against our intense thrill. Cece and I were fits of squeals and giggling, with myself raising Mr. Trunks in the air like we were on a rollercoaster. Major Tom from Peter Schilling was playing on Dad's boom box in the garage. Mom switched on the galaxy lights from our bedrooms then turned off the lights in the garage. The walls were colourful in green stars and purple planets. Nebulas and other spaceships coming into view as we passed through Earth's atmosphere.

Dad called from underneath the lift, "Ground control here. Checking in on the crew."

"We're in orbit! I repeat! We are in orbit!" Cece chirped as she jammed the cardboard buttons, "Collecting data now! No space monkeys in sight!"

"Keep an eye out! The space monkeys come out when you least expect it!"

Then mom popped out from the dark with an alien suit making a startling growl. Cece and I screamed, "Space monkey! Get the lazer guns!"

"Mr. Trunks didn't pack them!" I yelled back.

"Silly elephant! He's been eating too many cookies!"

"Hey, he's been getting better!"

Mom and Dad were trying not to laugh out loud at Cece and I. Then another roar from my mom. Cece screamed, "Ground control! We have a space monkey in our sights! It's huge and ugly!"

Mom broke character, "Hey!"

Dad affirmed, "This is ground control and that's unconfirmed, Commander. I'm looking at the space monkey now through your suit cameras and it's very beautiful."

Mom swooned, "Awe."

Cece and I were sputtering giggles. Suddenly our spaceship began to shake vigorously, making Cece and I scream.

"What's happening!"

Dad said, "This is ground control! The space monkey blew a gasket!"

"Oh no! We're lost in space forever!" I yelled.

"You're going into a space storm!" Dad said as he started to sway us back and forth on the lift. Cece and I squealed in laughter. I looked up to the projector light around our garage. An imagination that young is always the most powerful. I didn't see the walls surrounding me. I saw the stars and planets of space. The light from Mom's flashlights were real comets coming for us that we'd try to dodge. A moment that comes to me not very often. One of the last good memories with Celeste. I find myself grounding when I think back to it. When my imagination was cherished and rewarded. When I was surrounded by love and games. A small relief from my nightmares now. That come to life when I open my eyes.

---

Cori opened her eyes from the alarm on her phone. The morning sun shining into her room. She instinctually went to slide her hand over to Edward. Only to remember last night and it's entirety vividly. The screams and cries of Joon. The sweet words of Edward not enough to drive the fear away. The thought of him now such intense fear she tried not to think about it. Her dread for his safety, the heartache for Joon and his family, the demons in close corners with familiar faces. That day she called in to work, unable to process the events of her day awake. She ignored Cindy's slightly annoyed tone on the phone and crawled back into bed. She slept the entirety of that day. Her phone was on silent. When she awoke it was six pm. She checked the time to see a text from Edward. She didn't read it, but it was enough to relieve her— knowing he was still okay. Another day went by just like that. Then another day. She'd only get out of bed to use the washroom and drink water, but not much else. Cindy's patience would wear thin every call. When it was Friday, she tried to call in sick again.

Cindy picked up the phone, "No! Fuck no, you're not calling in sick again!"

"I'm sorry… it's a nasty bug and I'm not kicking it."

"Tough tits. Chug a bottle of honey and get your ass to work today. You know how many articles you have due?"

"I'm aware. I just don't think I should be going into work like this."

"I don't give a fuck. We have a quota, cupcake. The more you go without completing your work the less likely I get paid. Which means you don't get paid, understand?"

"I'll be doing subpar work at best if I came in today."

"That's bullshit. I know a bullshit excuse when I hear one. I can gladly give the reigns to Boyd if you're not up for it. Might as well come in to pack your desk, at least."

Cori blew a sigh, "You're gonna fire me?"

"If you don't come into work today, yeah! You just had a week of vacation and now you're pulling the sick card? The hell with that. Act like you have a job or you won't, cupcake."

"I got thirty minutes to get to work. I'm not even ready."

"Then you better start hustling."

Cindy hung up the phone, making Cori toss her own across the bed in anger. She was still wearing sweatpants and a partially stained tee shirt. The same clothes she'd been wearing for 2 days straight. She crawled from bed and put on a zip-up hoodie and tied her hair back in a half-ponytail. She didn't pack a lunch. Just the clothes on her back and the purse over her shoulder. It was snowing today, but she couldn't care as of now. She was heading for her car, anyway.

Cori went through her doors with a fast, begrudging pace. Shirley came to her door from a walk and called, "Hi, Cori!"

No response offered; Shirley dejectedly went back into her unit.

Cori got outside to a chilly morning falling in fresh snow. She came up to her car and tried to start it, but it was turning over again. She tried again and again, the vehicle simply wheezing and sputtering before it would die. Cori slammed her hands to the steering wheel, cursing through gritted teeth before resting to the seat seething.

Edward would be able to fix it.

Cori angrily bit her lip and thought of something else. Anything else. The task at hand to get to work so she wouldn't be fired. She loathed everyone. She hated Cindy, she hated the people she passed on her way to the train station. She hated how they all wore coats and winter wear where she was in sneakers and a hoodie and suffering because of it. Sitting on the train she hated the faces around her. Her music was blaring in her ears muffling all of their sounds. A discontent glare riddled to her face; she kept her head down. She hated herself for not getting changed as she looked at all the stains on her pants. She could smell her own body odour from the neck hole of her sweater. She wanted to care about how she looked but she couldn't. All she wanted to do was sink into her bed and stay in the pit. Stay safe and enclosed from everyone else. Hoping that one day the death of Joon wouldn't haunt her.

She walked through downtown like she was surrounded by zombies. Every face passing her somehow at fault for Joon's death. A systematic murder. A failing of the moral collective. The hate grew worse when she came into the Times Building. Larry at the front desk had to do a double take to make sure it was actually Cori. She didn't acknowledge him. She went into the elevator with two minutes on the clock to be at her desk. Her first morning to work without Edward in months. The longest she'd gone without speaking to him. Somehow it was slowing her movements as if she was underwater— knowing full well why he was gone.

She came into the office of politics and Boyd called, "Holy shit, Atkins! Thought you were dead."

She stopped to another flicker of Joon's body on the chain. Cori glared him down for a moment not saying anything. Boyd's carefree smile began to dwindle as the glare pierced into him like a dagger. He slowly turned his desk back to his computer, "Nevermind then."

Cori continued to her desk and Manny called, "Hey baby! Jesus Christ, you look like shit. You still sick?"

Cori didn't answer, just flopped her purse to the chair. She logged in and clocked in a minute late. She made her way to the break room after that, desperate for a coffee. However, as she got in there, she broiled to see it was out of service. A flood of rage came suddenly as Cori grabbed the machine and began to shake and smack it, alerting the worried glares of the others in the room and in the office.

Cindy walked by, "Jesus, Atkins. Who shit in your cereal?"

Cori ceased her slamming of the coffee machine and snapped, "You really want an honest answer to that?"

"Who? Me? Because I told you to get off your ass and come to work?"

Cori rolled her eyes as she stepped from the coffee machine. Cindy blocked her way from the break room, "You've been shitting in my cereal for a week with your constant absence, Cori. Now you come to work smashing up company property smelling like my ex-husband's armpit. I don't know if being around your family set you into a mental breakdown, but for God's sakes, figure it out and get your shit together if you wanna keep working here."

Cori held her tongue, desperately holding back the library of curses she had in mind. She watched Cindy walk away with her heels clapping behind. She wanted so badly to throw the empty cup to the back of her head. She took a more subtle approach and crunched it in her palm then throwing it in the garbage. Cori went back to her desk, seeing the draft for Mitchell's campaign of 2019 on her screen. She saw his face and wanted to crawl from her skin and fade away.

I'm stuck in this chair writing stories about this asshole. All he does is let drugs through his city. Give power to the mentally insane drug lords. All they do is mercilessly prey on the vulnerable. What am I doing? I'm not doing anything with my life here. I've been promised crime stories for two years. Yet, I'm still here writing about this dolt. Why? Fucking move. Go back home. Edward's gone so what's the point of living here anyway? What the fuck is the point in anything?

Manny popped from his cubicle just as tears were beginning to come.

"Hey. You okay?"

Cori glanced up to him and shook her head. Manny calculated what to say next, not used to seeing Cori in a state like this.

"What happened? You were out of work for two days and you don't look sick."

Cori wanted to tell him the truth.

I saw a man's head eaten off by an alligator and I can't stop thinking about it. I blame myself because I didn't call the cops when I should have. I listened to Edward. Who doesn't see the danger in that. Who I broke up with and after being sown to the hip with him for three months, I don't know how to live without him. He's the only comfort I've had in three months.

Cori muttered, "I'm sick. I'm pissed I had to come in today."

"No offence, girl, but bullshit. You don't look like yourself. You got coffee stains on your pants, you haven't brushed your hair, and you smell like you've been wearing the same clothes for days. The fuck is wrong with you? Did Edward break up with you?"

Cori didn't move, just looked up with tears under her eyes. Manny asked again, "Or did you break up with him?"

Cori sighed sadly, "Yeah."

"Why?"

"I can't talk about it. Please… don't make me talk about it. Just leave me alone today. Please."

Manny wilted as he sat back down to his chair. Cori wasn't absent at home, but she was absent in her thoughts. Coming into work just for the appearance, not for the work. She stared into her computer for hours, dreading the work she had due. Lunch break she didn't move, she kept to her screen dejectedly. She tried to type something to bring to Cindy. Anything to get her off her back. The words just reflected the death of Joon. The injustice of his murder and barbarity of that. A story without the words. Then Cori sat from her chair and went to Cindy's office.

She knocked at the door and Cindy called to it. When Cori came in, Cindy was having a salad before her computer screen of online shopping.

"What is it, Atkins? You better not be trying to go home. You don't look sick, so it's been confirmed you were bullshitting me."

"I want to write a crime story."

Cindy raised a brow, "Which one?"

"It hasn't been seen by the police yet. Only I saw it. It's something that deserves a story."

"Was it reported to the police?"

"I didn't report it. So, no other news outlets have gotten to it. I want to first. Then I'll report it to the police."

"What the fuck are you on about?"

Cori bit her lip and said plainly, "I'll write your bullshit for Mitchell, if you let me cover this crime story on the side and send it to the crime floor."

Cindy asked in concern, "Is this why you missed so much work? What did you see?"

"Something I can't talk about. But I can write about it. You can read it before it's published. I have no shadow of a doubt you're gonna want this in the papers."

Cindy bit her lip and nodded, "Fine. This better not be a waste of my time or yours. If it is, you can kiss your job goodbye."

"It's not a waste of time."

"Good. Get to it, then."

Cori went back to her desk ready to unload the horrors of Joon's death in a way people could understand. In a way that wasn't too specific, but enough detail that people raised eyebrows. That would bring heat to New Beginnings and Mr. Stone. That would make people know Mr. Joon's name. In her article she never confirmed death or cause of death. No names of the parties involved except Mr. Joon, himself. That he was the owner of New Beginnings and mysteriously disappeared. That he was last seen being dragged into a van by known assailants seen with Richard Stone, Managerial Director of KTMJ. That he was taken back to New Beginnings Rescue and never came out. She as the author predicted drug trade, even though she knew for certain. Giving the audience their own ideas and own outrage to the owner's disappearance— finally ripping the shawl from the secret Mr. Stone and Higgins hid behind. She wouldn't dare mention Falcone— knowing well that was an infamous mafia lord in Gotham. It was a story with so many factors, but in her writing only shown a part of it. Joon's story. The story she could have helped. But she'd be damned to stay silent.

By the end of the day, she brought it in, as well as her other works for Mitchell. Cindy eagerly flipped through it, and her face went slack jawed the more she read on. Cori could have sworn she saw Cindy's hair rattle on her face as she shook. Cindy looked up to her in wide, disturbed eyes.

She shook the paper in her palm, "The fuck is this?"

Cori said flatly, "That's my crime story."

"Crime story?! You're accusing the manager of KTMJ of foul play. New Beginnings Rescue being a mafia spot, and some underground conspiracy bullshit! Have you lost your fucking mind?!"

Cindy's voice had split into anger unlike anything Cori had ever heard before. "Do you understand what this is? This is slander! You could be charged if this was published. I could be charged!"

"Why would you be charged?! You're the chief of political journalling!" Cori snapped back angrily.

Cindy crushed the paper in her palm without care, "What did you see? Tell me, what happened?!"

"I'm not telling you that. Just send the story to Gilbert, this isn't even your department."

Cindy scoffed and placed the copy in the shredder, "There isn't a chance in hell that's getting published, ever. You've lost your fucking mind."

Cori shrieked, "Are you serious?!"

"Did this… Richard Stone… did he see you witness this? What about the other one? Any of them see you there?"

Cori raised her shoulders, "No. You're telling me this is bullshit, now you're asking me if I was seen? Do you believe me or not?"

"Of course I don't believe this! I was just… fuck it! You're fired!"

Cori's mouth fell, "You're gonna fire me over a draft?"

"No," coolly said Cindy as she scornfully walked over to her, "I'm firing you because you faked being sick to skip out on work. I'm firing you because you wasted the entire day on this shit. You're clearly unwell in the head. You're coming to work in stained clothes like a hobo, smelling like one, too. You're smashing coffee machines in the break room, and oh yeah, the only co-worker who you get along with is Manny. You're not dependable, you're not a team player, you're a whiner and you're a conspiracist in political journaling. There is a rap sheet of reasons why I'm firing you. You're a good writer when you write what I tell you to. When you're on your own, you come up with fringe, disemboweled bullshit."

Cori's rage was finally in her throat, climbing for air, "No, Cindy. This floor is entirely disemboweled bullshit! We don't journal! We don't write what the people want, we write what Mitchell wants! We're paid to write bullshit. Honestly, doesn't that sicken you? How do you get up in the morning knowing your dream for journalling was bought out for the mayor?! You've used me to two years. Every month you've promised me I'd get moved to crime. You've lied to me, every time! You don't have to fire me! I fucking quit! I'm sick of writing this politically paid horseshit and you know why?! Because it's a fucking lie! He's shit! Just when I was starting to think you weren't. Turns out, you're shit, too! Fuck you!"

Cori stormed from Cindy's aghast glare urgently, slamming her office door shut as she left. Cori huffed to her office chair, grabbing the few things she needed from her desk such as her family pictures and rosary candle. Anything else wasn't important enough to take. Manny shot up, "Cori! What the fuck?! Oh my God… did she fire you?!"

"No," growled Cori as she shovelled the pictures in her purse, "I quit. Because this place is horseshit. Cindy is horseshit. Mitchell is most definitely, a hundred percent horseshit. We're getting paid out by a corrupt political figure for crying out loud. It's gross and wrong and… lies! It's all fucking lies! I'm not staying here for a minute longer."

"Cori," softly said Manny as he batted away his tears, "Girl, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know. Definitely not be Mitchell's bitch. Not for a second longer." Cori's voice shook weakly. But her movements were quick and staggering. She grabbed her things and looked up to Manny. Then she went around the corner to his cubicle and gave him a hug. Manny held her back tightly, closing his eyes still fighting the tears.

"I'm sorry, Manny," she whispered, "But I can't be here anymore."

She parted from him just to see his lip shaking. She fought her eyes away; certain she'd start sobbing if she looked a second longer.

"You better text me, girl!" His voice went wavy.

Cori dimmed a smile, "I will." She raised her hands as she walked from the cubicles, gathering everyone's attention, "Fuck this place! And fuck Mitchell!"

A few of the journalists even clapped and cheered for her. She raised her fist all the way to the doors like a Breakfast Club icon. Cindy looked out her office door to her leave, not a glare of anger or annoyance, but simply concern. A two year chapter closed so fast it barely happened. Cori recited all of the memories in her office chair at the Times, seldom good. A time warp of wasted energy. The only fear clinging her to her chair was livelihood. Making a living and paying the bills. The uncertainty was the last thing on her mind as of now. She was engulfed in white hot rage. Rage rarely felt, but for the first time she was letting it rule her. Not even the cold air of late November cooled it. Fear was finally dormant for a bout of relief. Replaced by self-indulging anger.

The train carried this anger. All the way to the East Tricorner stop. Her stop was south to her apartment. Bodies moved past her to get off for east, and it was almost involuntary. She hoped off with the other passengers to East Tricorner. She knew where she was going like a dog chasing a car. But didn't know what she'd do if she caught it. When she got to the street of New Beginnings Rescue, she went into the diner. The same diner she witnessed Joon's murder on Edward's laptop. She didn't order anything, just sat at the corner window watching. Judging every body that came in or out of the building. Her blood curdled to see Higgins again. Surprisingly for her, it wasn't fear. It was anger and vindication. He was all smug smiles and laughter with the goons in the streets— carrying large boxes inside the store. Undoubtedly drugs— drops.

Then a body she wasn't expecting at all. A woman with the likeness of Joon's daughter came to the doors. Higgins pointed her inside, almost authoritative in gesture. Cori wasn't sure what to make of that. She stayed for too long at the diner tables glaring down the rescue's walls. Waiting for something to happen, or nothing at all. Perhaps to fuel the anger she was beginning to cling to like Mr. Trunks or Edward. Without either, a new addiction was in order. An obsession.

Cori ran back to her apartment then, nearly slipping over the slick of ice a few times. When she got into her apartment she clamoured for her laptop at the dining table. She opened Nigma first, but it wasn't ready yet. Not formulated to what it needed to be. Tabs after tabs were pulled up. Scouring her resources for every whisper of detail. Starting with Renewal. Then Higgins. Falcone. Mr. Stone. She knew too much from Edward, but what about her own cracks? Commissioner Savage was a prominent memory, it rubbed her wrong the day he called her with threats and flexing. She pulled up as much as she could on every avenue of information she had. The more she searched, the more suspicious it all became. Every damning thing was another pain for Mr. Joon. A life taken for money, reputation, self-preservation and clout. So much clout. It disgusted her more and more. A man she didn't know, but his death would forever haunt her. The guilt that she witnessed it and didn't save him. That same guilt was a parent of her rage now fuelling an obsession she couldn't understand. Suddenly then, Edward's actions were becoming clear.

Cori went for her phone then, finally reading the texts and seeing his five missed calls. Many of them were apologies, pleas of paragraphs confessing all the things he figured she wanted to hear. The words only pierced her worse. However, a message grabbed her attention.

"There's a lot I keep hiding from you. I don't want to hide from it anymore. There's a darkness in me, Cori. I'm choosing to use it for good."

It worried her at first, but she related to it far more than she ever thought she would. Especially now. She couldn't help but wonder if this anger was how he felt, too?

She knew he was busy at work, but she did text back, "Me too."

With all the information in tabs and in her drafts, she pulled up her journalling on Nigma. She started her own blog on the site under her pen name. Whatshedoing26. The title: The Writings of a Disturbed Journalist.

In her first blog, she wrote her witnessing of Joon's murder. The involvement of Stone and Higgins. Even Falcone. She opted to leave out anything considering the commissioner— seeing it would sell her out. Renewal was something being grossly violated by the criminal of the New Beginnings Rescue. Waterfront Industries. Tying together KTMJ and perhaps even the GCPD. A rubik's cube mystery that each cross stretched the puzzle longer. She was halfway through the damning article when a buzz was heard for her unit downstairs. Cori froze to the sound. Fear crawled back faster than she could imagine. She thought for a split second it could be thugs trying to confirm where she lived. She sat up from the chair.

Maybe it's Edward.

She didn't know what to say to him, but in that moment, she prayed it was him. She pressed the button, "Yes?"

A familiar voice spoke, "Hey, is this Cori?"

Cori flummoxed, "Cindy?"

"Yeah, can I come up? It's freezing down here."

"Why the fuck should I let you into my home?"

"Ugh. Cori, trust me. You're gonna want to talk to me. It's important."

"Why?"

"I can't tell you down here! Just let me in, please!"

Cori's anger made it entirely too easy to ignore it and tell her to leave in a colourfully obscene way. However, she got thinking of her discreet concern in the office. The chance of Cindy knowing something she didn't. Cori pressed the button to open the door.

Cori waited at the door for her knock, when she did, Cori opened to Cindy still wearing her snow-caked suede high heels, pencil skirt but a puffy white coat and beanie. Cori gave her a droll and discontent glare as a greeting to her home. Cindy muttered, "Well, can I come in?"

Cori opened the door for her, "Can you?" She walked back to her table letting Cindy close the door behind them.

"Look, I know you're pissed with me. But… there's something we need to talk about."

"No way," grumbled Cori, "I can't use you as a reference? Damn. There's goes my last hope."

Cindy chuckled as she came to the table, "Ha. I never said it but I always liked you. Smart-mouth with ambition. Reminded me a lot of myself."

Cori let her sit down before asking, "Why the fuck are you here?"

"I didn't have to read a paragraph into that article to know it could never be published."

"Yeah, I figured that. It was bullshit, remember?"

Cindy winced, "No! No… it wasn't. None of it was bullshit. Do you even know what you wrote?"

"What are you saying?"

Cindy itched the back of her head and asked, "You got like… water or something? Coffee? A fucking bottle of wine? Seriously, you just let guests walk in and not ask them if they want a drink?"

Cori pushed from her chair in exasperation, pulling a glass from her cupboard and pouring Cindy a glass of water. "Well, shit. You fire me then give me shit on hospitality when you invited yourself in. No wonder your divorced."

Cindy shrugged, "I'm not apologizing."

Cori thunked the glass of water before Cindy with a vacant glare and plopped down to her chair again with her arms crossed. "Well? You were talking about my article you called bullshit not being bullshit."

"It wasn't. I haven't a doubt what you wrote was a hundred percent true. That's why it could never ever be published. Not at the Times, not at GCN, not even in your fucking diary. No one can ever know they killed Joon. Do you understand me?"

Cori's eyes went wide, suddenly her company with Cindy was a threat, "You… knew?"

"Yes. Don't look at me like that, I'm not here to whack you. I'm a grunt in this bullshit, but… I have intel from someone high on the food chain. I knew about Joon, and when I saw your article, it scared the living shit out of me. I don't even want to know how you saw, less I know the better. All you have to know is that you will die if you put that story out there. There's no if, ands or buts about that. You say anything, Cori, and they will get you, too."

"You came here to threaten me?" Cori growled.

"No! I came here to warn you, dumbass. You think this was the whole entrée? There's so much more, so many levels to this I can't even lay it all out for you. Because I don't even know how large it goes! This is system grade corruption. It threads to the Times, to KTMJ, to bank tellers and lawyers, even to the mayor's office. It's all connected. It's jealously protected. Even the slightest crack in the foundation they'll see it. They have so many eyes, ears and faces you won't suspect until it's too late."

Cori muttered in disturbance, "How do you know about all of this?"

"Come on, cupcake. You were on the money about Mitchell. You make it seem like I have a choice publishing that shit. No one has a choice here. We do what we're told, or we end up like Joon. That's Gotham. That's always been Gotham."

"So what? I'm just supposed to keep this to myself? Let others like Joon get used and murdered so these cogs can keep turning? Isn't it our job as journalists to expose them? Bring power back to the people?"

Cindy made a faint smirk, but her eyes only reflected pity, "Like I said… you remind me of myself at your age. It's a fight that can't be won, Cori. We bring pens and paper, they bring guns and axes. Don't turn out like me. Leave this city, pack your bags while you still can and get the fuck out. Or you'll end up like me… or worse. You can never speak of what you saw. Not to anyone. Not to the neighbours, your boyfriend, Manny, not to your mom or your family, no one. For your own safety you need to keep it to yourself."

Cori quaked weakly, "And if I don't?"

"Then you'll die. They will find you and kill you. All who don't play the game or keep quiet die. You'll be joining a docket of would-be heroes who tried to expose the truth. I don't know… I liked you a little too much to let you walk into the lion cage without being warned away first."

Cori glanced down to her laptop still open, and closed the Nigma tab. Her draft of the article forever deleted. She closed the tabs of Carmine Falcone, Mr. Stone and Higgins, as well. Then she closed it.

Cindy watched her do this quietly and asked, "You were about to, weren't you?"

Cori sighed, "Yeah."

"Jesus H. Christ… I couldn't have gotten here sooner. That was a good call, Atkins. Just make sure you stick to it and remember what I said. For your own safety. You're way too damn young to fall through the cracks. Believe me, firing you I did you a favour. Times has far outlived it's prime. You're a damn good writer. It was about time you stopped dicking around there, anyway."

Cori creased a small smile, "So, you'll be my reference after all?"

"Fuck no. But… you won't need it." Cindy made one last long, contemplative sigh before standing up and pulling her coat back on.

Cori sat to her chair watching Cindy put her heels back on before saying, "It's not right. Joon deserves to be heard."

Cindy slipped her last heel on slower than the last at hearing it. She glanced up with a forlorn stare, "Writing it isn't going to change anything. Not the police. Not the government officials. You want justice for Joon, don't go for the gut… go for the neck."

Cindy left her home leaving the words echoing behind her. Cori pushed her laptop away, knowing it would do her little good now. All the suspicions Edward brought home was now confirmed. Finally his obsessions were clear as crystal. Kindred in every bone of her body. The nerve to prey on the poor and disadvantaged like parasites. To take what is not theirs to keep. To murder and take loved ones as their prey were fed on. No different than Hewitt.

Predators. Left to run rampant and purge families of their happy place. Monsters hiding in plain sight. There's no vengeance that can come easily from this. I climb up the scaffolding now. Maws below me. I'll just have to keep climbing and not lose my footing. If journalling is a large gust of wind blowing me down to death, then I gotta take a page from him. That woman at the rescue. Joon's daughter. Why was she there? What can she tell me that I don't already know?