Orion here once again!

We're going to try and keep a decent schedule going, if only to keep the momentum of the fic alive. Other than that I really don't have much to say, these first few chapters are just meant to set things up. Don't really have much else to say, other than thank you for reading through!

This city was sick. That was probably James Gordon's first thought as he stepped into his newly assigned office. The smell of cigarettes and cheap booze followed him as he marched forward, carrying a box of his personal belongings.

He did his best to ignore the stares he was getting, all from officers he didn't have a chance to know. A part of him was already checking his surroundings, hardly phased at the cacophony of noises that drowned out the station as a whole. Men and women on all sides, being booked on numerous charges. The frown on James' face worsened as some officers to his right pocketed clearly-stolen money, not even attempting to hide their deeds.

His city had gone to hell. Yes, it had been a while since he had been here, but to see it now? It was like looking at a dying relative. The good, decent memories still echoing in his mind, poisoned by all the wrong around him.

This wasn't the first sort of assignment he had gone through. Years on the force had taught him well. But that didn't excuse the gut feeling James had in his stomach. He was just waiting for the other shoe to drop at this point, unsure of what to expect from here on out, even as he stood in the center for another moment.

The commissioner had already spoken to him on the phone, promising a team on his first day, but James didn't see anyone there. In the bare-bones room, there was only his own things, still laid on the box that James had brought in.

He rifled through his things, trying to at least get a feel for what was probably going to be the main part of his day from here on out. He took out a single photo, and the weariness that had been plaguing James this whole time began to seep away. His wife, daughter, and son stared back at him, smiling and practically climbing all over him.

It had been taken right when he had just arrived back home. Most of his fellow Marines had been going through the same thing. Distracted by the family. His sister had taken the photo without him realizing. Barb had insisted on taking it with him.

'For good luck,' she'd said.

A throat clearing interrupted James's thoughts. He looked up, almost instinctively trying to stand at attention. He must have missed his team or something, considering that Commissioner Loeb was standing before him.

"Sir," James said, holding himself back from snapping into a salute. "Apologies, I was just getting settled in." He didn't have to worry about that, not here. It was hard to tell whether or not the commissioner was impressed; his face was rather impassive, all things considered.

"Easy, Gordon. Glad to see you're already up and at it. Like the desk so far?"

He didn't, not really. It looked like someone had dragged it out from an alley and tossed it into the room, hoping for the best. James could see the wear and tear, what looked like years of use against it. He picked at one area in particular, fingers brushing against scratches deep in the wood.

"It could use a bit of work, but I'll manage, sir.. Where's my team? I was expecting to see more people here already."

The commissioner let out a snort before squeezing through the door, pulling it shut behind him.

Loeb was certainly on the heavier side, and looked like he hadn't been on the streets in a long time. Receding hairline, jowls stuck in a perpetual frown. The uniform he wore was messy, hastily put together. Like Loeb had just thrown everything together. Small things that certainly irked James, but it wasn't like he could call it out.

He gestured for James to look out the window, where the seemingly endless stream of people being dragged in—either in cuffs or not—continued to swarm the station.

"They're out there, Gordon. Lotta work to be done in Gotham. Work that'd probably break any lesser man, if I'm being honest. Especially on Halloween." His superior remarked, seemingly unfazed by everything he was witnessing. James couldn't help but agree. He'd wanted to go out tonight. Give his son his first real experience with the holiday. But then work called him in, and it was only sheer dumb luck that Babs was able to at least keep James entertained. She wasn't going to her school's dance, or any sort of hangout that needed her attention.

"I read your file. Your work in the Middle East, and that stunt you pulled in Chicago. It's got people's attention. Folks dunno what to make of you." Loeb grunted, stepping out of the office as he motioned for Gordon to follow him.

"Sir? I was hoping to get my work started already. If there's something you need me to do, just tell me. I'll get it done." James wasn't antsy, no. He would never concede that, not to the Commissioner. Not to his wife. Not to anyone. But he hadn't managed to get any work done in months, and that was starting to get to him. Something was going on, and Loeb wasn't telling him anything.

"Easy, Detective. You're getting your assignment. Right now, in fact. You wanted work? Here," the Commissioner said, gesturing towards a room he had stopped in front of. "Let's see what you can make of this." James entered, eyes narrowed, as he stared at the room. It looked like the kind of place that any team could call home. Desks piled with notes, files upon files filling the room. Finally a whiteboard, which held a map of the city and most importantly, sketches of what looked like a giant bat which was almost taunting him.

It was a list of crimes. Or, more accurately, attempted crimes. In terms of connection, James couldn't see anything.

A robbery of a bank here, a mugging behind a back alley there. Even an instance of a couple and their child nearly getting killed, in what was either a random act of violence, or a targeted hit. It was the sort of crimes that James had seen often, back in Chicago. You didn't leave that city without seeing your fair share of horrors.

But all these had failed. The reports varied. The bank crew found themselves surrounded by smoke, and beaten until they couldn't stand, much less identify what had attacked them. The mugger? Dragged into the shadows, kicking and screaming. His would-be victim only caught a "glimpse of something 'dark and fast'".

Perhaps the greatest thing mocking him was the last crime, involving the family, right where the previously mentioned sketch was. It was going to be a clear-cut case, a tragedy. Then, what was described as 'a giant bat'—by two terrified adults and a child—swooped down, beating the attacker into an almost unrecognizable pulp.

If Loeb hadn't been here, watching his reaction, James was sure he would have laughed. A vigilante in Gotham? It was a surprise to be sure, but anyone could have had enough and taken matters into their own hands. But a giant bat? That was just… absurd. But first impressions were everything, so James had to be sure.

"Sir, is all this… accurate?" James frowned in confusion at the honestly sad lack of details. He winced, feeling the sudden impact of Loeb slapping his shoulder. The man chuckled, almost mockingly, at James' flinch.

"Like I said, Gordon. Folks don't know what to make of ya. Plus with your previous incidents… well, you're not exactly any officer's friend here." James could practically feel the slime coming off the Commissioner, and fought the urge to smack the man's hand away from his shoulder. He bit back every insult, every sneer that he could, and decided to speak.

"I know I've made my fair share of mistakes, sir. I'm grateful for the chance to prove myself, and get whatever trust I've lost here." Every word tasted like salt, drying his mouth. It was as if James was rubbing sandpaper on his tongue. But he couldn't afford to lose his cool. Not here. Loeb could only snort, tossing a small stick of nicotine gum in his mouth.

"You're gonna have to earn that trust again. But yeah, it's all accurate. We have ourselves a giant bat sweeping through Gotham, stopping crime. Dunno when the rest of the team's coming in, but don't expect a long line of volunteers. For now? Figure something out, then maybe we'll talk. Good luck."

With that, the Commissioner walked away. Or more accurately, staggered away, given the older man looked like he was one burger away from a heart attack. James kept staring at the back of Loeb's head, almost hoping his glare would induce that heart attack in question. When nothing happened, he could only sigh as he marched into his office.

If he was going to be given the horrible assignments, he was going to do them right. So he started with some basics. Even if the basics had, like James' sanity, left the station as soon as a giant bat was mentioned.

The issues were there, right off the bat. James inwardly groaned at the accidental pun, cursing whatever higher power was at work, but he was starting to lose his train of thought. The first issue was the locations.

The bank robbery was on one side of town, the mugging on the other. The attempted triple murder was smack dab in the middle of the last two crimes, at what most of the city had come to know as "Crime Alley". James paused at that mention, his hand brushing up against the map.

Everyone knew about that location in particular. James himself was barely shipping out when he heard about the Waynes getting gunned down in cold blood. It was—in most people's opinion—the tipping point that had made Gotham into the hell it was today. Given how things were looking right now? A small part of James couldn't help but agree. Gotham had died when the Waynes did.

James shook his head, trying to get out of his own reminiscing. Now wasn't the time to get all teary-eyed. There wasn't anything he could do then. It was doubtful that he'd be making a difference now, with how Loeb was already treating him. But he had to try, damn it.

Locations were all over the place, yes. But they still gave James in the chaos, there were signs. Patterns. Ideas of where to look.

He had lost track of time—jotting down countless notes on the whiteboard in front of him—when someone behind him cleared their throat. He turned around, coming face to face with a woman. She was blonde-her hair tied tightly in a ponytail-with steely blue eyes, and she was dressed smartly in business attire, a far cry from everybody else he'd had the pleasure of meeting that day. Above all else however, it was a familiar face, especially given the way she chuckled at him.

"I'd heard we got a new hire. Didn't think it'd be you, Jim."

"Sarah Essen, as I live and breathe. I thought you'd still be guarding suits in Washington."

She let out a snort in response. "My old employers decided to 'cut costs', so I didn't really see a point in staying up there. I tried one of those cushy office jobs the V.A. offered, but I can't just sit still, yaknow?" Essen said, offering a shrug. "And well, here I am. Working with you."

"Here you are," James shot back, chuckling alongside her. A ghost of a smile on his face. Maybe things weren't going to be that bad. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a worn pack of cigarettes. Barb had warned him to not get attached, but everyone had their own vices. Vices he was sure Essen still had.

"Still smoke?"

"Not as often. But I take one every now and then. Need a break?"

"Understatement of the century. Loeb's got me working a wild goose chase."

Essen let out a very unladylike snort, leaning down to look at James' own work. She eyed what was clearly her own handwriting, having been erased to make room for a set eyes. Sarah looked back at James, who didn't even look apologetic.

"Goose chase or not, you've got at least some leads. It's always good to have a fresh set of eyes, but that one? We just got that a few day ago." She noted, tapping the sketch that had gained Gordon's ire. "Heard there were crazies up here, but a giant bat? Didn't think the world had gone mad."

"Seems it's always been mad. Wanna head to the roof? Seeing as how we're working together, might as well try and compare notes. That and we don't wanna stink up this place with smoke."

She let out a laugh as James gestured for the door. She nodded, indicating for him to follow.

"Just like old times. Come on Jim. Let's talk shop. Just don't mind Flass if you see him. Man's a pig at the best of times."

"Flass?" The name rang some bells, from the whispers James had heard walking up here. Even with the hell surrounding him, there was some comfort in the fact that he wasn't about to walk into it alone.

"You'll know him when you see him. Now come on, I haven't had that brand in a while."

James huffed as he walked alongside Sarah. Maybe, just maybe, things weren't going to be as bad as he had thought.

Next Chapter: 28th November