Song: Bonfire – Blue Foundation
I was yanked from sleep not by the tender caress of morning light but by the insistent, grating blare of my ringtone—a sound so jarring it could raise the dead.
"What the hell!" My groan was half irritation, half disbelief as I squinted at the clock. 9 AM. Not exactly the crack of dawn, but early enough to question someone's sanity for calling.
I grabbed the phone, and the caller ID flashed 'Celine.' "Hello?"
"Alexandra! How long do you plan on sleeping in?" Celine's voice was sharp, a flick to the ear through the phone.
"Ah, well, not much longer, now that you've effectively scared the daylights out of me," I muttered, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.
"What?" She sounded confused.
"Never mind, sis. What's up?"
"Alexandra, I'll be at Elysian Heights by 10 AM. Be ready!" Her tone brooked no argument.
I sighed, resigned. "Yes, ma'am."
Celine had been staying in a villa owned by the Lacroix Corporation, nestled in Gotham Heights, just a 15-minute drive from my place. She wanted proximity to Wayne Manor—understandable, given her... interests.
After a quick shower, I glanced at the clock: 9:30 AM. Plenty of time to dress. I rummaged through my carry-on, which lay sprawled haphazardly on the floor from the night before. I selected black cigarette trousers, a black undershirt, a leather jacket, ankle boots, and sunglasses—my armor against the world outside.
Approaching the window, my fingers inadvertently caressed the piano keys. The city sprawled before me under grey, yet unthreatening skies.
"It's been too long," I whispered to no one, my thoughts drifting to music, to the times I played and sang for mom and grandma. I wondered if Damien felt this pang of longing too.
With a sigh, I sat at the piano, allowing my fingers to find their way to the opening notes of "Yebba's Heartbreak," my voice softly mingling with the melody, a fleeting solace before the storm of the day ahead.
I had just settled into the melody, my mind drifting with the notes, when the doorbell shattered the morning calm. I paused, a note hanging in the air, and went to the door.
"Sœur!" Celine's voice bubbled with excitement as she leaped into my arms, peppering my cheeks with kisses. "I missed you!"
"We have so much to do, Alex! What are you wearing? It's your first day here, and you look like you're dressed for the apocalypse. Did you have dinner last night? Breakfast this morning? Where are all your 'human' clothes?"
"...Celine, I missed you too," I replied, my words wrapped in a chuckle. She paused, her energy momentarily dipping before she seized my hands and pulled me out the door.
"Let's grab breakfast! There's a ton to catch up on, and we don't have much time!" She declared as we stepped into the waiting limousine, her earlier excitement reignited. She relayed the destination to the driver—a chic breakfast spot by Gotham Bay.
Though Gotham had its charm, it lacked the serene beauty of Vermont. We found the restaurant bustling, a hive of the morning rush. To maintain some privacy, we switched to French.
"How do you find Gotham so far, sis?" Celine asked as we waited for our food.
"It's barely been 24 hours, Celine," I sighed, stirring my coffee.
"I know, but any first reactions?"
"Depressing," I admitted after a moment's thought.
"I know, but you get used to it," she reassured, then quickly shifted to business. "The firm is fully up and running. We've already secured contracts with several international clients from Europe and Asia." Her eyes sparkled with the thrill of success, a sight that always brought a smile to my face.
A thought then struck me. "Have you seen Bruce yet?"
A shadow crossed Celine's features, and she looked away. "Not yet."
"Celine! When exactly do you plan to talk to him? The whole city knows you're here, and I'm sure so does Bruce."
"I can't, Alex... It hurts just to think about him. Part of me misses him and wants to talk, but another part is just... afraid," she confessed.
"Okay, but at some point, you do have to face him. Celine, you've loved the guy for years. You've kept your heart locked away, and he hasn't noticed. You either chase him or leave him."
"I will, Alex. I will."
The conversation then meandered through updates on Alderic, Xavier, and Damien, plans for the city, and finally, my joining the GCPD.
"Ready to join the GCPD?" she asked.
"Yeah, I guess. Not sure what to expect, but I'm excited."
"Jim has been looking forward to meeting you! When do you have to show up?"
"Around 2 PM."
"It's noon now. Want me to drop you off at the penthouse?"
"Yeah, thanks, Celine."
"I'll see you soon, sis. And we need to go shopping for some better clothes for you."
"Yeah..." I sighed, resigned to the inevitable shopping spree. Forever the fashionable one, Celine. Something I am certainly not.
Dropped off at my penthouse by noon, I had ample time to settle in, unpack, and explore my new urban fortress. The third bedroom sparked an idea—it would make a perfect personal gym. Sure, the tower boasted several top-tier facilities, but something about having my own space appealed to me more.
As I rummaged through the kitchen drawers, I hunted for something specific, a key that would unlock a new slice of freedom in Gotham. There it was: the key to my BMW S 1100 RR. A smile cracked across my face. "Fuck yeah, now we're talking." I had pre-ordered the motorcycle before arriving, instructing Celine to stash the keys and the protective gear in the kitchen upon its delivery.
Clad in my protective vest and boots, I made my way down to the private basement parking. The bike sat there, sleek and imposing—a beautiful beast waiting to be unleashed. I switched on the ignition and grabbed my helmet, plugging in my earphones. The thrill of the ride ahead sent a surge of adrenaline through me. Gotham's streets wouldn't know what hit them.
Song: Not your kind of people – Garbage
Alexandra Lecroix revs her motorcycle as she leaves behind the opulence of Gotham Heights, the posh, tree-lined streets gradually giving way to the harsher grit of central Gotham. It's around 1:30 PM, and the sky hangs overcast, casting muted shadows on the bustling city below. As she rides, the pristine mansions and manicured gardens of the wealthy fade in her rearview mirror, replaced by towering, steel-gray skyscrapers, graffiti-covered walls, and the endless hum of city life.
The streets grow tighter, choked with vehicles as the city inches closer to rush hour. The smell of rain clings to the air, mixing with the exhaust fumes as traffic thickens. Alexandra skillfully weaves her bike between the crawling cars, her leather jacket rippling in the wind, the city's pulse quickening around her. She rides past packed sidewalks, where Gotham's inhabitants move like ants, a sea of faces, unaware of the chaos lurking beneath the surface of the city.
Her path takes her past the looming shadows of Gotham's industrial district, where smoke rises from old factories and neon signs blink erratically. As she nears central Gotham, the imposing skyline swallows her, with the distant figure of Gotham City Hall standing tall like a monument to the corruption she's so often had to fight. The faint wail of police sirens echoes in the background, and Alexandra knows that beneath this organized madness, the city's darkest elements are waiting. She tightens her grip on the handlebars and accelerates, her destination just ahead.
Alexandra pulls into the parking lot of the Gotham City Police Department, her motorcycle's engine growling as she comes to a stop. The GCPD headquarters looms ahead, a dark and formidable building standing tall against the grey Gotham skyline. The weight of the city's corruption and crime seems to press down on the structure, but it remains an unyielding bastion of law and order—at least, that's what it's meant to be.
She parks her bike in one of the few available spaces, cutting the engine with a swift motion. The sudden quiet is almost jarring as the sound of bustling city streets fades into the background. Alexandra sits still for a moment, gripping the handlebars, before unclipping her helmet and pulling it off. Her wavy, ginger hair cascades over her shoulders, the strands tousled from the ride. She holds the helmet at her side, its black surface reflecting the muted sunlight filtering through the clouds.
Taking a deep breath, Alexandra closes her eyes for a brief second, collecting herself. The familiar scent of rain-soaked asphalt and the faint waft of city pollution hit her senses. She runs a hand through her hair, brushing it back with an air of calm confidence. The moment passes, and with one last glance at the bustling street behind her, she turns her attention to the GCPD.
The heavy, double doors of the precinct seem to loom larger with each step as she strides forward, her boots echoing against the pavement. Commissioner Jim Gordon is waiting inside, but before she faces whatever chaos the day has to offer, Alexandra straightens her jacket and steels herself for whatever Gotham throws at her next.