Note: A sensitive topic will be discussed here in details regarding SA. If you feel uncomfortable, feel free to skip into the next chapter.
Song: Nu – Fool
As Mark and Alexandra drove back to the precinct, the car was filled with a tense silence until Alexandra broke it, initiating a debrief.
"So, what's your take on the footage from the Iceberg?" Alexandra asked, keeping her eyes on the road.
Mark exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "Well, we saw Rupert in the footage, hood up, skulking around like he owned the place. Caught him on camera slipping something into Lila's cup, and her friends' too, while they were distracted by the dance floor."
"And fifteen minutes later, they all walked out together," Alexandra added, her voice tight with frustration. "It's clear as day what his intentions were."
"Yeah, but there's a hitch—no footage from the back of the building. They conveniently left that out," Mark said, his tone suggesting suspicion.
"That's not sitting right with me either," Alexandra responded, her brow furrowing. "And the staff? They claim Rupert isn't a regular, which means he's likely hitting various clubs across Gotham. It fits the pattern, doesn't it?"
"Exactly," Mark nodded. "And every description we got matches the photo from the case file. It's definitely him."
The car pulled into the GCPD precinct lot, and they quickly headed inside to report to Commissioner Gordon.
"Jim, the surveillance footage showed Rupert drugging the girls' drinks, but there's nothing from the back exits," Alexandra reported crisply as they stood in front of Gordon's desk.
"And according to the staff, he's not known at the Iceberg, suggesting he moves around," Mark added.
Jim stroked his chin thoughtfully. "That makes it harder to predict his next move. We'll need to alert other clubs and set up some surveillance."
Alexandra then handed Jim the business card. "Oz gave me this," she said, her tone neutral but watchful.
Jim looked at the card, raising an eyebrow. "Cobblepot is not known for playing nice with the GCPD. This is odd..."
"He said it was for 'if I ever wanted to have a good time,'" Alexandra recounted, trying to keep her discomfort from showing.
Jim's expression hardened slightly. "Keep that card, Alexandra. It might be nothing, or it could be a way in. Oz doesn't do anything without a reason."
"Understood," Alexandra nodded, tucking the card into her jacket pocket. "We'll keep pressing on the club angle and see what else we can dig up."
"Good work today. Stay sharp, both of you," Jim advised, his tone both commendatory and cautionary as they turned to leave his office.
Mark and Alexandra exchanged a look, both understanding the weight of their task. As they walked out, the reality of their challenge was clearer than ever; they were up against not just a criminal, but the whole tangled web of Gotham's nightlife.
Song: Treehouse - Alex G
Alexandra sat at her desk, her fingers briskly navigating the police database to locate Lila's address. It was listed in the Narrows—a notorious section of Gotham known for its dense, crime-ridden streets and dilapidated buildings, where poverty wasn't just visible; it was palpable. The Narrows was a maze of narrow alleyways and cheap, crumbling housing, often teeming with the city's most desperate.
By 7 PM, Alexandra was ready to leave. She grabbed her helmet and headed to the basement where her BMW S 1100 RR awaited. As she mounted the bike and revved the engine, a sense of purpose mixed with the thrill of the ride. She wove through Gotham's evening traffic, the crisp air rushing past her, while her earphones blared Gojira's "Silvera," the heavy guitar riffs fueling her drive.
Her first stop was a large department store. Inside, Alexandra quickly picked up several items, carefully selecting things that later would be revealed as thoughtful gifts for Lila. She packed everything into her backpack, ensuring nothing was amiss before heading towards the Narrows.
Turning into the community shelter, the bike's headlights illuminated the faded paint and cracked walls of the building. The shelter, nestled in one of the Narrows' many decrepit blocks, was a haven for homeless and kicked-out teenagers. It was a two-story structure, its once-bright colors now muted by years of neglect and the harsh realities of its inhabitants' lives. Inside, the shelter was just as worn: sparse lighting flickered in the hallways, the floors were scuffed and stained, and there was a perpetual musty smell that spoke of overcrowding and insufficient ventilation.
The main living area was cramped, with old sofas that sagged under the weight of their frequent use. Only two bathrooms and washrooms were available, barely accommodating the needs of over 50 residents. As Alexandra walked through, she noticed the tired, frail figures of the teenagers, some curled up in corners with hollow eyes that seemed too old for their young faces.
The sight of such stark poverty struck a chord in Alexandra. She felt a sharp pang in her chest, a mix of empathy and anger, at the conditions these kids had to endure. Quietly, she made a promise to herself to find some way to help improve their situation.
Approaching one of the caretakers, an elderly woman whose face was lined with the trials of her life yet carried a resilient gaze, Alexandra inquired softly, "I'm looking for Lila. Could you help me speak with her?"
The woman assessed Alexandra briefly, likely gauging her intentions, before nodding and motioning toward a hallway. "Lila's usually in the back reading room around this time. I'll take you to her."
As they walked, the caretaker's shoes clicked solemnly against the tile floor, each step echoing slightly in the quiet of the shelter. Alexandra followed, her mind gearing up for the conversation ahead, hoping that she could offer Lila not just assistance with her case, but perhaps a glimmer of hope as well.
Inside the shelter's makeshift reading room, Alexandra found Lila nestled in an old, threadbare armchair, a book forgotten in her lap as she glanced up warily at the newcomer.
As Alexandra approached Lila, she noticed the young woman's short black hair, cut in a stark, no-nonsense style that framed her pale, almost porcelain-like face. Her hazel eyes, large and expressive, held a depth that spoke of experiences far beyond her years. Lila's frame was slight, her thinness more a testament to her hardships than her nature. In those eyes, Alexandra saw not just a victim but a survivor, someone who had faced darkness and was still standing, albeit precariously.
Recognizing the hesitation in Lila's eyes, Alexandra introduced herself softly, "Hi, Lila. I'm Alex, a detective with the GCPD."
Lila's gaze flicked briefly to the window, eyeing the sleek motorcycle parked outside. "Is that your bike?" she asked, a hint of curiosity breaking through her cautious demeanor.
"Yeah, it is," Alexandra smiled, easing into the chair beside her. "Rides like a dream."
"That's so cool," Lila responded, her initial apprehension melting into admiration. "You're like, really cool."
Alexandra laughed, a blush tinting her cheeks. "Thanks, Lila. That's kind of you to say."
Lila's expression turned somber. "I used to dream about riding bikes... before everything happened." She paused, her voice softening. "My family... we never had much. My dad left when I was little, and my mom... she tried, but things just kept getting worse. She got sick, bills piled up, and then we just couldn't keep up with the rent. I ended up here after she... she passed away."
Alexandra reached out, placing a comforting hand over Lila's. "I'm so sorry, Lila. That's a lot for anyone to handle, especially on your own."
"It makes me think," Lila continued, her eyes downcast. "Maybe I can't ever be like you. No one's going to help me pay for school or anything. I'm just... stuck here."
"That's not true, Lila," Alexandra responded earnestly, squeezing her hand. "Where you come from, the struggles you've faced—none of that defines your future. It's what's in your heart, your courage, and how you rise despite those challenges. That's what really matters."
Lila looked up, a flicker of hope in her eyes mixed with uncertainty. "Really think so?"
"I know so," Alexandra affirmed. "I grew up with a loving family, yes. I have a sister who's far too fashionable and talkative, but she's incredibly loving and sweet. And three overly protective brothers." Her voice carried a warmth that seemed to embrace Lila in solidarity.
Lila smiled weakly, her voice a whisper. "Sounds nice."
"It is," Alexandra agreed. "But having a family or not doesn't decide your worth or your potential. And you're not alone—I'm here, and I'll help however I can."
That's when Alexandra reached into her bag and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped package. She handed Lila a new smartphone. "This has my number in it. You can call me anytime, okay?"
Lila's eyes widened as she accepted the gift, her fingers trembling slightly. "Really? Thank you, Alexandra."
As Lila clutched the new phone, Alexandra shifted the topic back to the sensitive matter at hand, her tone gentle yet focused. "Lila, can you tell me more about what happened that night at the club? Anything you remember could be really helpful."
Lila nodded slowly, her eyes focusing on a distant point as she recalled the events. "It was supposed to be just a fun night out..." she started hesitantly. "We were dancing, having a good time. I didn't know him, but he was around, you know? Just seemed like one of the many guys at the club."
Alexandra encouraged her with a nod, indicating for her to continue.
"He offered us drinks. We thought he was just being friendly. But after that, everything became blurry," Lila continued, her voice quivering slightly. "I remember feeling really dizzy and weak. I tried to keep dancing, to pretend I was fine, hoping it would pass."
"And your friends?" Alexandra asked softly, keen to understand the full scope of the incident.
"They... they weren't doing well either. We should have left right then, but he was insistent we stay for one last song," Lila explained, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her shirt. "The next thing I remember, we were outside, and he was leading us down the street."
"Did you go with him willingly?" Alexandra probed, needing to piece together how the coercion might have occurred.
"I... I don't think so. I mean, I wouldn't have. But I couldn't think straight. He kept saying he'd get us home safely," Lila recounted, a fresh wave of distress washing over her as she spoke.
Alexandra reached out, offering a reassuring squeeze of Lila's hand. "You did the best you could in a confusing situation, Lila. What happened next?"
Lila took a deep breath, her eyes clouded with the harrowing memories. "We were all supposed to get a ride home from him. He seemed nice enough at first," she began, her voice trembling. "But after we walked outside, it... it changed quickly. He guided us to his car, and that's when I noticed my friends weren't really... coherent anymore."
"They were just slumped over in the back seat, completely passed out. I started to panic, but I tried to stay calm, thinking maybe I could somehow get us all out of there," Lila explained, the distress evident in her tone.
"And Rupert?" Alexandra prompted gently.
"He... he got in the driver's seat, and when he saw that I was still somewhat alert, he... he came onto me. Started saying things, touching me," Lila said, her voice breaking as she recalled the violation of her space and safety. "That's when I knew I had to get out, no matter what."
"So what did you do?"
"I waited just until he was distracted, adjusting the rearview mirror, and then I just opened the car door and ran. I ran as fast as I could, not looking back, not even once," Lila recounted, her eyes wide with the vivid memory of fear and adrenaline.
Alexandra's expression softened, understanding the immense difficulty of the decision Lila had to make. "And your friends?"
Tears welled up in Lila's eyes as her voice filled with guilt. "I left them there. I know it sounds horrible, and I hate myself for it, but I was so scared. I didn't know what else to do. I just ran until I found a 24-hour diner and they helped me call a cab."
"It's okay, Lila. You were put in an impossible situation," Alexandra reassured her, her voice firm yet compassionate. "You did what you could to survive. We'll focus on finding your friends and making sure he can't hurt anyone else."
Lila nodded, the relief at being understood battling with her lingering guilt. "Thank you, Alexandra. I just hope they're okay."
"Thank you for sharing this, Lila. I know it's not easy," Alexandra said earnestly, her heart aching for the young girl's trauma but also for the critical clues her account provided. "Remember, none of this is your fault. We're going to do everything we can to stop him."
Lila nodded, wiping away a tear. "Thank you, Alex. For listening... for caring."
Alexandra gave her a determined look, her resolve as firm as her words. "I promise you, Lila, we're going to catch him. And if there's anything else you remember, no matter how small, you have my number now."
"I've also brought some things that might help," Alexandra continued, handing over a new jacket, an emergency keychain equipped with a whistle, a swiss knife, and an alarm, along with an envelope containing some money, snacks, and schoolbooks.
As Lila rummaged through the gifts, her emotions overflowed, and she burst into tears, rushing to hug Alexandra. "Thank you, thank you so much," she sobbed, her voice muffled against Alexandra's jacket.
Alexandra wrapped her arms around the young girl, her heart heavy but hopeful. "You're welcome, Lila. And hey, how about we go for coffee sometime? My treat."
Lila nodded, wiping her tears, a small smile breaking through. "I'd like that," she whispered.
As Alexandra stood to leave, she glanced back at Lila, who was now clutching the new phone. "I'll see you soon, Lila. Remember, I'm just a call away."