Song: Starts right here – League of legends, Foreign Air, Kenny Manson.

Alex strode past the front desk with her chin lifted, her posture exuding confidence that seemed misplaced in the drab office setting. The receptionist, deeply engrossed in her paperwork, didn't even spare a glance upward—unless she chose to ignore Alex deliberately.

Clearing her throat, Alex mustered her politest tone. "Hi, could you please direct me to Jim Gordon? I'm here about a job."

The receptionist's eyes flicked up, meeting Alex's with a glance that was cool and detached. After a brief moment, she returned to her documents. "Name?" she asked, her voice flat.

"Alexandra Lacroix," Alex replied, her voice dropping to a murmur. It had been a family consensus that while in Gotham, she would mask her true identity due to the GCPD's rumored affiliations with the underworld. It was an irony not lost on her: a cop in the heart of danger, yet cloaked in secrecy.

She had opted for the pseudonym "Alex Victoire" for everyday interactions.

At the mention of 'Lacroix,' the receptionist's demeanor shifted suddenly. She stumbled slightly in her chair, her professional facade cracking. "Ah, yes, Madam Lacroix, apologies! Right this way, please."

Puzzled by the receptionist's reaction, Alex followed, her mind whirling with questions about what lay ahead.

Alexandra follows the receptionist into the dimly lit corridor of the Gotham City Police Department, her boots echoing softly against the cold, hard floor. The air was thick with the weight of anticipation and the faint scent of stale coffee. As she approached the bullpen, her eyes found Commissioner Jim Gordon, standing by his cluttered desk, poring over a stack of files.

Gordon was a figure molded by the city itself—his features rugged and worn, telling stories of countless nights spent in the grit of Gotham's darkest corners. His hair was a grizzled mix of peppered gray, slightly unkempt, matching the stubble that shadowed his jawline. His eyes, a deep set of weary brown, seemed to constantly scan the room, vigilant and discerning.

He stood with his arms folded, his brow furrowed deeply as he reviewed the reports before him. The lines on his face were like the pages of a book, each one etched with tales of personal sacrifice and the burdens of command. The classic trench coat he wore hung slightly open, revealing a simple, functional tie and a badge that gleamed dully beneath the fluorescent lights—a silent testament to his dedication.

As Alexandra approached, her presence seemed to cut through the low buzz of the busy precinct.

The receptionist called out, ''Lieutenant, Alexandra Lacroix is here''.

Gordon lifted his gaze from the papers, and for a moment, his stern expression held firm. But as his eyes met hers, something shifted. Perhaps it was the slight tilt of her head, or the determined yet hopeful glint in her green eyes, but a subtle change came over him.

The corners of his mouth, usually downturned in a perpetual frown, began to soften. A genuine smile, rare and fleeting, broke through the usual sternness of his features. It was as if her arrival had brought a brief respite to the weight he carried on his shoulders. This smile didn't quite reach his eyes, but it transformed his face into one of approachable warmth, if only for a moment.

"Alexandra," he greeted, his voice a gruff, welcoming rumble. "Good to see you here."

His smile, though slight and fleeting, was like a beacon in the often shadowy atmosphere of the precinct. It spoke of a mutual respect, a shared readiness to face whatever challenges Gotham might throw their way, together. Alexandra couldn't help but return the smile, feeling a surge of reassurance—here was a man who knew the city's scars as well as she did, yet still dared to hope for better days.

As they exchanged greetings, the subtle interplay of light and shadow in the room seemed to underscore the moment—a brief, shared connection amid the chaos of Gotham. It was a reminder that even in the darkest places, understanding and camaraderie could still flourish.

"How was the trip from Vermont?"

"Decent, sir, though I'm still acclimatizing to the weather here," Alex replied, trying to sound relaxed despite the shift from rural calm to urban bustle.

"Please, call me Jim. Your father and I go way back. It would be an insult to have you use formalities with me."

"Sure Si— Ah, Jim," Alex corrected herself quickly, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. "Apologies, the habits from police academy are still fresh."

Jim chuckled softly, leaning back in his chair. "I must say, your resume is rather impressive for a trainee cop. I'm eager to see what you can contribute to Gotham. We need people who carry the light like your father did. Following in his footsteps is noble."

"Thank you, Jim," Alexandra said, her smile reflecting genuine appreciation.

Jim nodded, then his expression turned reflective. "You know, your father was instrumental during the early days of Gotham's transformation. When the city was just starting to buzz with industry and life, he was right there, spearheading initiatives that weren't just about economic growth but ensuring the community thrived. He helped set up job training programs, worked on affordable housing projects, and was deeply involved in improving local education. Gotham owes a lot of its vibrancy to his vision."

Alex felt a swell of pride at Jim's words. "I hope to carry on that legacy in my own way."

"Exactly the spirit we need," Jim agreed, his eyes brightening. "And that's precisely why I'm confident you'll do well here. Gotham's as tough as it is rewarding, and with your background, I believe you'll help us illuminate the darker corners of this city."

"Today will be about orientation—getting you acquainted with the department and its routines," Jim explained as they walked through the bustling precinct. "Tomorrow, you'll be assigned your first case. You'll be working alongside Senior Detective Mark Reeds."

Jim gestured toward a man seated at a cluttered desk near the corner, leisurely sipping his coffee. As they approached, Mark set down his mug and stood, extending his hand with a warm, if slightly roguish, smile.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said, his gaze appraising. "I must say, you're far too... striking to be partnered with an old bucko like me. Looking forward to working with you, Lacroix! Your family's contributions to Gotham haven't gone unnoticed; we really appreciate it."

Alex shook his hand, responding with a polite smile. "Thank you," she said simply, appreciative.

Song: Playground – Bae Miller

Commissioner Jim Gordon guided Alexandra through the bustling corridors of the Gotham City Police Department, his steps purposeful amidst the chaotic hum of activity. The precinct was a hive of constant motion—officers darted from one room to another, phones rang persistently, and the air buzzed with the low murmur of conversations about the city's latest crimes.

As they walked, Gordon's demeanor was all business, the lines of concentration etched deeply across his brow. He gestured to various departments as they passed, his voice a steady stream of information. "This here," he pointed towards a group of desks cluttered with maps and photos, "is our Major Crimes Unit. They're the brains handling the high-profile cases—organized crime, major heists, and so forth."

They stopped at a large, transparent board filled with strings connecting various photographs and names—a visual maze of Gotham's criminal underworld. Gordon picked up a laser pointer and highlighted several areas on the map of Gotham that were marked with different colors.

"As you can see, Alexandra, Gotham's not just dark alleys and masked vigilantes. It's a battleground of power struggles among various factions." His pointer hovered over a picture of Sal Maroni. "Maroni controls the drug trade in the northern districts. His rivalry with Falcone," he moved the pointer to Carmine Falcone's stern face, "who holds the south, has been nothing short of a cold war, spilling out into our streets."

He then pointed to another image, this one of Oswald Cobblepot, a man with a sly grin and sharp eyes. "And then there's Oswald, also known as the Penguin. He's a wildcard—smarter than he looks, and twice as dangerous. Tries to play both sides but is building his own empire in the shadows."

Gordon shifted the pointer to several other less familiar faces, each connected by strings to various criminal activities like arms smuggling, human trafficking, and extortion. "These are the lesser-known players, but no less dangerous. Each of them has a part in the chaos that grips our city."

Leading Alexandra away from the board, they continued their tour, passing through a busy evidence room where officers cataloged items behind secure windows. "Every piece of evidence comes through here. It's the lifeblood of our investigations. Handling it right can make or break a case."

Their final stop was at the operations center, a dimly lit room filled with monitors displaying live feeds from around the city. Officers watched the screens intently, ready to dispatch units at the first sign of trouble.

Gordon leaned against the back wall, his arms folded as he surveyed the room. "We keep an eye on everything here. Real-time crime reports, ongoing investigations, surveillance feeds. It's the nerve center of our operations."

Turning to Alexandra, his expression softened slightly, "Your role will be crucial. You'll be starting in Homicide, but I want you on the pulse of these major cases too. Learn the players, understand their motives, and anticipate their moves. You're not just solving crimes; you're helping to save this city."

As they left the operations center, Gordon's pace slowed. "I know it's a lot to take in on your first day, but you'll find your footing. You're here because you have a knack for understanding the complexities of such cases. Gotham needs that now, more than ever."

Alexandra nodded, absorbing every detail, every name. The weight of her responsibility settled on her shoulders, heavy but not unbearable. She was ready to step into the fray, armed with knowledge and backed by the determination to make a difference.

Gordon clapped her on the shoulder, a firm, encouraging gesture. "Welcome to the GCPD, Alexandra. Let's get to work."

As they walked back into the hustle of the precinct, Alexandra felt a resolve firming within her. This was more than a job; it was a calling. And she was ready to answer it, alongside Jim Gordon and the rest of the Gotham City Police Department.