Thread 6311437

Welcome Back! Due to some new job shenanigans this is a bit late but I hope you guys enjoy the new cover art for this thread. Last time we played; Mark had accepted a night shift working the guard detail for Bruce Wayne, suspected target of Kal. C. Late and Anarky...

Previous threads: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Gotham%20City%20Beat%20Cop%20Quest

======

"Let's put Bunko and Chen in the car by the road. No offense to 'em but Bunko's a little lazy and if he can take a shortcut patrolling he will."

Hawthorne chuckles dryly with a nod.

"Looks like you already got the next lesson taken care of. It's important to know your strengths and weaknesses but it's better to know your fellow officer's. Because when shit really hits it, it helps to know what to expect."

"Like with you?"

"Right. You know to be there to help me pull the boot out of their ass when I'm done with em." He chuckles with a wry grin that could be taken as cocky. But the glint in his eye lets you know it's well earned.

A conflict of muffled voices at the front draws your attention and just as fast as he grinned, the smile is gone and his jaw is set as he marches stiffly to the front. You watch him freeze in the door and a vein begins to creep up his neck.

"Bunko." He says in a seething whisper. "The man said no shoes..."

=====

The meeting between you all is short. Hawthorne makes his position clear, outdoor patrol goes to Banks and his partner while Bunko and Chen handle the main road. There's hardly any time for small talk as the butler, Mr. Pennyworth, is less than subtle in his desire for their to be as few people in the manor as possible. Hawthorne sets the channel for your radio checks and sets them for the top of every hour. Everyone nods in quiet agreement and you break for your patrol routes until Banks catches you by the arm for a quick moment.

"Hey D, just wanted to ask you about Kimble real quick. I worked under him and everything but we aren't like... tight or anything. But I know he feels kinda shitty because he gave me a hard time over the undercover stuff and he didn't know about-"

You cut off his rambling.

"On the clock, Banks. Whaddya need from Kimble?"

"I just wanted to invite him camping. Let him know it's water under the bridge, y'know?"

"Sure thing man, I can let him know. I'm sure he'd be interested, military dudes love camping right?"

Banks shrugs but lets out a relieved chuckle.

"Guess we'll find out. Have a good shift, D."

"You too, Banks. Be safe."

You watch him head out with Costas but you can't help but notice Costas' expression as he glances at you over his shoulder. Eerily reminiscent of the first glance you got from Rogers at the gym. His eyes flick over your shoulder and he quickly turns away, you glance yourself and see a stern faced Hawthorne.

"Costas isn't the biggest fan of Metas." He says quietly. "Had family that was uh... y'know."

You frown. Collateral was the word he didn't want to say but you've heard your own fair share of stories.

"Did his family have the insurance?"

"They won't sell to Gotham residents. Not ones that could afford those premiums anyways. But look, don't let it bother you."

"It doesn't, we're both blue. If he can leave it at some bad glances then I'm fine letting it lie."

"Good man." He says with a firm slap on your back. "Now, we're gonna do an initial sweep of this place before I start teaching you how to work internal."

"Internal?"

"Standard stuff, home searches, pen testing, some trivia. Keep the mind sharp while we walk in circles. C'mon, you can pick the first lesson."

>"Tell me more about searching a house? Isn't it the same as searching anywhere else?"
>"Pen testing, guessing that's penetration testing. We gonna check doors and windows?"
>"Trivia sounds interesting, I'm assuming it'll be like GCPD trivia or is this your way of checking that I actually listen to you?"
>Write-In

>>6311438
>>"Pen testing, guessing that's penetration testing. We gonna check doors and windows?"
We are so back. I finished catching up with the last one and wanted to compliment the writing a bunch, but the thread fell off the board. In dialogue between Mark and Grey, Mark tried to guess the end of a story and just guessed wrong, cool realistic flow. Also red lady remembering nightwings robin times wistfully, because Nightwing manwhore powers apparently work on ghosts.

Anyway, time to find 0 evidence of break-ins or weird happening in batman's house.

>>6311455
+1 TIME FOR THE BASICS

>>6311438
>"Pen testing, guessing that's penetration testing. We gonna check doors and windows?"

>>6311455
>Because Nightwing manwhore powers apparently work on ghosts.
They work on aliens, so why not? The Robin as a whole has pretty strong game with supernaturals: Batman has a history with a few (Zatanna and Wonder Woman most prominently, but also Nocturna), Dick Grayson's (in)famous for his bodycount, Tim dated Cassie-Wonder Girl if I'm not mistaken, and Damien Wayne has in various versions dated Raven, Flatline, and he also had that whole love triangle with Djinn and Lobo's daughter.

>>6311438
>"Tell me more about searching a house? Isn't it the same as searching anywhere else?"

imagine coming close to finding the batcave only to have to be intercepted by someone in the batfamily

>>6311438
>"Tell me more about searching a house? Isn't it the same as searching anywhere else?"

>>6311455
>>6311483
>>6311631

"Pen testing, I'm guessing that's penetration testing. We gonna check doors and windows?"

"Among a few other things. Houses like this got all types of weak spots. Glad Wayne isn't dumb enough to pay for those big heavy front doors and then flank em with windows."

"Still plenty of windows."

"Yeah well. One thing at a time. Let's start with a clean and easy sweep, make sure the only other person in for the night is Jeeves there."

"Pennyworth, sir." A polite but firm voice calls from behind you.

"Fuckin-" Hawthorne jumps, angrily tugging his collar. "Sneaky for an old guy aren't you?"

"Shall I put on bells, sir?" Pennyworth asks dryly.

"How about a tour? And drop the 'sir' Officer or Sergeant is fine."

"Of course, sir. Follow me."

Hawthorne sighs but nods for you to follow, as Pennyworth guides you back to the entrance Hawthorne quizzes.

"Alright, slick. Points of entry for the house, talking general here."

"Windows and doors?"

"Not that general. Not A house, THE house. This one."

"Windows, doors, uh... Mr. Pennyworth, any skylights or secret ways in and out?"

Hawthorne raises a brow but you shrug it off.

"Rich people are weird, if anyone is gonna have a secret exit it's someone harassed by the press. Right?"

"Fair enough. Whaddya say, Pennyworth?"

"The dining room has a skylight, though Master Wayne has long since installed a sliding cover for it. As for secret passages, I'm afraid you won't find anything as clandestine on this property."

"How many entrances then? Counting the front door?"

"Two." He answers simply. "The front door and the back doors leading to the garden."

"Really? All that money and he skimps on the doors?" Hawthorne chimes in. "Not forgetting a balcony or a little employee entrance for cooking staff?"

"I assure you there is not. The only staff present is myself and the occasional housekeeper, the very same that served his parents."

"Good." Hawthorne grunts. "House has a lot of windows, most em don't look like they open. Two entrances limit the soft spots for anyone trying to get at the VIP. But what's missing, rook?"

You glance the hall as Pennyworth leads you to a new set of doors, the windows are near five foot they don't open just like he said. You glance up and the vaulted ceiling doesn't show any hatches or implication of a cellar. You scan again and look back to Hawthorne.

"Very first room we were in. What was against the wall?"

You look back in your mind and pull the mental image, you spent plenty of time idling around since Hawthorne mainly covered things you'd already decided. That's when you pick it.

"The fireplace?"

"Good memory." He says simply. "You'd be shocked, but I've been called to more than one scene where the only way in or out was the chimney. Most of the time it was thieves who got wedged going in or out. Grey closed a murder where the smoking gun was soot trapped in the grooves of the guys sneakers. Built like a pole."

"I didn't think it was relevant..." You say quietly.

"Anything can be, especially when it's about securing a scene or a VIP."

"No I mean, the chimney is probably plugged right?"

"How so?"

"I mean, Winter cold is really starting to set in now right? Mr. Pennyworth doesn't strike me as a lazy guy, so I assume if that fireplace was used then it would have a fire going. That aside, it was warm when we came in. This place has central AC doesn't it?"

"Right you are, sir." Pennyworth says as he rounds a corner stopping before a long hallway lined with doors on either side.

"Sly pick up, son." Hawthorne says. "But if that deduction was wrong, then it means a whole mess of potential problems. Being clever don't make it smart, you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes, sir. Trust my gut, but verify."

He nods once firmly, nothing else to be said. Hawthorne turns and clears his throat.

"Sorry to hold you up, Mr. Pennyworth. I'm guessing these are most of the rooms for the east wing?"

"Indeed, the eastern study, the pantries, the kitchens, and the old parlour are here. We passed the dining room before this corner."

"And the western wing?"

"The western study, the garage, the library, and the theater."

"Understood, we'll need to sweep them just to make sure nobody got here before we did." Hawthorne grumbles as he reaches out and grasps a door knob, only to have the door's path blocked by a polished shoe.

"I'm afraid the old parlour is off limits unless Master Wayne offers his express permission."

"We'll wait. Go wake up 'Master' Wayne."

"I'll do no such thing. Master Wayne is currently sleeping off a night of imbibing himself."

"Well, wake the party boy up. A little hangover won't kill him."

"The answer is no, Sergeant." Pennyworth states bluntly before presenting his silk gloved hands with wrists touching. "Master Wayne has agreed to this detail because your commissioner has impressed it's importance on him. However, I answer to neither you nor the commissioner. So unless you plan on restraining me and violating the hospitality offered to you..."

He trails off but Hawthorne grinds his jaw.

"Can I ask why, Mr. Pennyworth?" You prod gently.

"The parlour is untouched and has been for a long time. Mr. Wayne prefers it be left exactly as his parents had, he is quite protective of that space and I won't betray him to satisfy your curiosity. Professional or otherwise."

>"Hawthorne, maybe we can let this go? It's one room that reminds him of his folks, we can let it go."
>"Mr. Pennyworth, would it be an option if you just held the door and we looked inside without entering?"
>"Mr. Pennyworth, how about if only I go in? Bruce and I have spoken a few times and so have I with the commissioner. I have an interest in touching as little as I can but I also have a job to do."
>"Sorry, Pennyworth. This is our job, I can promise we won't touch anything but we HAVE to enter the room. Just once to clear it."
>Write-In

>>6312843
>"Mr. Pennyworth, would it be an option if you just held the door and we looked inside without entering?"
A visual inspection through the door should be fine, unless Mr. Wayne wants the dust bunnies and cobwebs exactly where he left them or something.

>>6312843
>"Mr. Pennyworth, would it be an option if you just held the door and we looked inside without entering?"

>>6312843
>>"Mr. Pennyworth, would it be an option if you just held the door and we looked inside without entering?"

Probably the best compromise we can get.

>>6312843
>"Mr. Pennyworth, would it be an option if you just held the door and we looked inside without entering?"
>”Sir, mind if I pull something from my toolbox to check?”
If Hawthorne gives the go ahead…
>Ask a question to the Lady in Red: “Is this room secured?”

>>6312843
>"Mr. Pennyworth, would it be an option if you just held the door and we looked inside without entering?"

>>6312860
We should follow up with Shivers either way. We can get a look at the rest of the house without needing to scour the whole place.

Urban Augury can also give us an idea for what we’re in for.

>>6312860
+1 for the smart superpower usage, though I am vaguely afraid that we'll get zonked out by the emotional intensity of the room where the Prince of Gotham had his "I Shall Become a Bat" vision.

>>6312959
Isnt this place basically on a lay line inside another layline?

Practically have the red lady just walking by us

>>6312845
>>6312849
>>6312859
>>6312860
+3 That 4Chan is Spam-Cucking me over.

Locked in for peeking from the doorway.

I'll need 1d100, Best of three for obvious reasons.


Sorry to put off the update but I finally got assigned to that new job and am jumping through more than one hoop at the moment. I'll take the rolls and have an update out tonight since it'll be the first time I can bring my laptop with me. See you soon, God willing.

Rolled 98 (1d100)

>>6313273

Rolled 67 (1d100)

>>6313273
Normal look or Spooky Bullshit look?

Rolled 14 (1d100)

>>6313273
Rolling

>>6313282
>98
>best of 3
Of course right here is a point where Gotham is strongest

>>6313282
Damn
Option 1) Brain aneurism
Option 2) Mark knows too much now
Option 3) Just a very clear and chill flashback to young bruce. Chill for Mark I mean, no blacking out, no nosebleed, actually easy-going use of powers.

>>6313293
You forgot Option 4, the comic book option:
>After seeing the room, Mark become a criminal with a schtick based on some sort of obsession or superpower he has, eventually fighting Batman

>>6313332
Kek, the Cobra cometh.

>>6313359
What started as some weird schtick of a rookie, ends up with Mark having a full on costume and living in a abandoned Zoo.

>"You don't follow a *Cobra* into their burrow, and expect to not get *BIT*, Officersssssss"
>"MARK, WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? SINCE WHEN YOU GOT ENOUGH MONEY TO BUY A FUCKING ZOO?!"
>"Oooooh, Officer Hawthornessssss! It only took a few incidents on the Sssssnake section, and enough media coverage, to *plummet* the pricesss!"

>>6313282 (waow)
>>6313288
>>6313289

"Mr. Pennyworth." You begin lightly. "Would it be an option if you just held the door and we looked inside without entering? I can empathize with Mr. Wayne's wishes and I know we're technically guests. But we also have a vested interest in keeping him safe and that means doing our jobs."

Pennyworth's face settles into an unreadable mask, his eyes holding yours in a stare on par with Hawthorne, before he nods shallowly.

"In the interest of compromise I can agree to that." He steps to the side and pulls the door open slowly.

"Sir, you mind if I pull something from my 'toolbox' for this?"

"It even gonna work? We're outside city limits."

You pause for a moment. You hadn't even realized it but he's right, Wayne Manor lies a few miles outside Gotham City limits but you hadn't noticed any interruption or dulling of the whispers. If anything they seem a little more animated than usual.

"I mean I don't turn it on and off, it's working right now. Maybe cause Wayne is a..." You trail off before you can say 'Son of Gotham' like that would mean anything to him. "He's a pretty big part of Gotham, or maybe the house used to be considered Gotham when it was originally built?"

"Your ghosts consult with land surveyors?"

"I don't know. I just know I can still tap into it."

"Go ahead." Hawthorne says after a brief pause, holding his stance with folded arms.

You step forward, your toes in line with the threshold of the room, your eyes scan over the space. The furniture looks like antique but well worn, the cushions showing faded colors, somewhere in the depths of the room along the wall that holds the door you hear the steady ticking of a grandfather clock. You feel a lingering presence over your shoulder but not the butler or Hawthorne, you feel her.

"Is this room secure?" You whisper.

You feel something wash over your shoulder. Like gentle cold mist it seeps through the fabric of your shirt and tries to cling to you as it passes over and into the space itself.

"Yes... Though only physically." A voice whispers past your ear.

Then you blink.

A series of rapidly moving images that you somehow manage to absorb flash by you in a flurry. A clock face at 10:48. Falling pearls surrounded by shards of glass. A mirror that reflects eyes that aren't your own. The eyes of a child. The eyes of someone dead. Then comes her voice, so soft you almost have to strain to hear it.

"I am the eleventh hour that never comes. The hand that leads downward. I watched the window break, the glass life of a child split in two, I felt the cold wind push through the gap along with it's avatar. It's shape the shape of fear itself. Fear that brought a cold shiver. And the city shivered with him.... this place is safe. It may be one of the few truly safe spaces left."

The crashing DONG from the Grandfather clock shocks you back to reality as Hawthorne pipes up.

"Look clear?"

"Yes, sir." You reply quietly, still replaying those snapshots from someone else in your mind.

He takes a step up himself and gives the room his own sweep.

"Pretty pristine for a room nobody uses, Pennyworth."

"I never said the room was unused. I said it was not to be entered without Master Wayne's permission." He replies steadily.

Hawthorne grumbles and takes a step back, waving his hand for Pennyworth to close the door once again.

"What's the upstairs looking like?"

"Bedrooms, Guest rooms, and staff quarters. As well as a private study and library."

"Bruce Wayne likes to read?" Hawthorne scoffs.

"One must have some way to occupy the time between Paris and New York." Pennyworth replies flatly.

"I bet." Hawthorne replies in matched tone. "Please, show us to the stairs. We gotta check the windows, any balconies, and if you got a cellar or attic we need to see that too. But first we'll clear these real quick and meet you back by the front."

"Of course." Pennyworth replies with a shallow bow before turning on his heel and striding to the end of the hall and then turning to stare straight down it at the two of you.

"He doesn't trust us." Hawthorne says quietly to you with a chuckle. "C'mon."

He opens the door to a fully kitted commercial kitchen. A stainless steel wash basin adorned with freshly cleaned glasses and bowls that are flanked by polished silverware. Hawthorne closes the door behind you both with a quiet click before scanning the room and then speaking low.

"So what'd you pick up on Spirit FM?"

"I don't talk to ghosts." You clarify.

"What'd you hear back from 'the city' then, slick?"

"Room was safe, real safe apparently. But say some weird stuff, a clock, the window, and pearls?"

Hawthorne frowns.

"The mugging that killed his folks. Report said it was over a pearl necklace. His father went for the gun..." He throws up a hand. "Wasn't the first or last time it went down like that."

"Yeah... I was also told there was an avatar that uh.. was shaped like fear."

"Your voices always so... poetic?"

"This specific one, yeah. I don't know what it means but-"

"But you got the same feeling I do? Something's hidden in that room, my gut's telling me, something big."

"Sir, if this is just because he's rich-"

"It's a factor." Hawthorne cuts you off. "I won't deny that, but it's also a real feeling in my stomach. Wayne is in the papers, FireBug? Wayne-Tech, unreleased shit. The assault on the museum? We're right next to each other and I get winged? Not to mention I saw a side table in there with a letter on it. The heading looked real similar to that Blackgate heading you stuffed down your shirt."

"You're starting to sound like Question."

"Broken clock is right every once in a while." Hawthorne replies. "Besides, you can't tell me you think it's entirely impossible that he could be involved in this business with the Warden. ARGUS coming for the jail which just so happens to be a laundry for the last bits of mob cash still swirling, Wayne and Dent doing all but roll out the red carpet for feds to set up shop here? It fucking stinks."

"I don't know.."

"That's why we check things out. When we go to head upstairs, I'll have someone fake a code and send you outside. Wait a minute for us to be up and then you come back in and check out that parlor. Just look for anything suspicious or ask your voice for some guidance. If it's still clear after that I'll drop it."

>"Sorry, sir. I understand a gut feeling, but this is outside the scope of why we're here. I don't feel comfortable doing it."
>"The room is safe, sir. I know that for a fact, I've never been lied to by my shivers before. We can look into Wayne or ask Question to do it for us but we don't have enough evidence for me to justify this. I'm sorry."
>"Alright, I won't make a mess but I'll give the place a thorough sifting. Just keep Pennyworth busy as long as you can up there."
>"Alright, but I'm not touching anything or digging around. Just stepping in and getting a look at that letter. We don't want Pennyworth getting suspicious."
>Write-In

>>6313546
>"Alright, but I'm not touching anything or digging around. Just stepping in and getting a look at that letter. We don't want Pennyworth getting suspicious."
Trying to argue this is outside of our purview doesn't hold much water thanks to our extracurricular activities. Best we go in with as light a touch as possible just so Hawthorne drops it.

>>6313553
+1
Worst case scenario if we get caught: we argue “sleepwalking” like what happened to us at that one crime scene ages ago

>>6313553
>"Alright, but I'm not touching anything or digging around. Just stepping in and getting a look at that letter. We don't want Pennyworth getting suspicious."
>"Considering I put myself into a coma on Halloween and having a mini-stroke shaking Bruce's hand, I want to get to next year before risking another hospital stay."

>>6313707
+1

>>6313546

>>6313707
+1

>>6313553
>>6313555
>>6313707
>>6313867
>>6313960

"Alright, but I'm not touching anything or digging around." Hawthorne opens his mouth but you press on. "JUST stepping in and getting a look at that letter. We don't want Pennyworth getting suspicious."

"Not even time for a shiver?"

"Considering I put myself into a coma on Halloween and had a mini-stroke the last time I shook Bruce's hand, I don't think so. I want to at least close out the year without another hospital visit."

"You picked the wrong career then, son." Hawthorne grumbles. "Besides you got a clean bill of health, Reiner showed me the scans."

"Clean bill of health or not things have still been... weird surrounding my Shivers. Just, I wanted this assignment to ease back into average police work. Can we stick to that?"

Hawthorne pauses for a moment and behind the usual stern wall put up by his eyes you see real consideration that breaks through in a sigh and a nod.

"Yeah. Yeah, you got it slick." Hawthorne replies. "I uh... I didn't mean..."

He trails off and simply nods again before grabbing his walkie from his belt and lifting it.

"Bunko. It's Sergeant Hawthorne, y'there?"

"I copy, Sarge. Go ahead." Bunko comes through laced with static.

"Two minutes I want you to call through the open line here. Tell me you got a 586 and then forget about it. Whatever I say you go along with, I'll get you some easy overtime in exchange. Hear me?"

"Absolutely Sergeant. Ring you in two."

The radio crackles as Hawthorne jams it back into his belt and moves to the door. You can't help but feel a strange sense of heaviness as you watch him.

"Sir? Is everything okay?"

"We'll talk." He says after a brief pause. "Later."

You've heard this tone before. He'll make good on that promise in his own time, the stubborn old mule. You give him a slight smile and nod in agreeance as you follow him into the hall.

You pull the door shut behind you both as Hawthorne strides to Pennyworth with his shoulders squared and chin raised.

"Looks fine down here. How about that tour of the upstairs now jeeves? Minus the 'Master's' room of course, don't wanna intrude on the hangover he's probably sleeping off, eh?"

Pennyworth stares at him for a moment with an eyebrow raised high. Then his eyes shift back to you, there's an eerie familiarity in the glint that resides in his stare. That same look of steady analysis you've seen in Grey's eyes before. It's almost unnerving to be on the receiving end of it from someone outside the GCPD.

"Hello?" Hawthorne asks, clicking his fingers. "Sooner you show us the upstairs the sooner you get to go back to your duties."

"Very well." Pennyworth replies with a stiff tone. "Follow me and please keep your voices down."

"Absolutely." Hawthorne replies, nodding for you to come along.

As you retrace your steps back to the foyer and you start angling for the stairs you hear your radios crackle.

"Sergeant, this is Bunko. Copy?"

"Got you clear, Bunko. Go ahead."

"Sir, it looks like I have a 586 out here. Just wanted to know how you wanted me to proceed."

"Son of a bitch." Hawthorne sighs off mic before depressing the key. "Hold where you are, I'm gonna send DeLucia out to assist so you or Chen can stay with the car. Expect him in less than five and walk him through it."

"Received."

Hawthorne glances at you and sighs apologetically.

"Sorry, rook. Grab the ticket book from our shop and write it up."

"Sir, I-"

"The mansion isn't going anywhere and neither is the heating. You still need to get a few traffic citations under your belt, better to take em as they come up."

You nod obediently and make for the front door.

"And when you're done wait for me right here, don't wander off or get distracted talking to Bunko. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." You say with faux boredom as you step through the massive doors into the still frigidity of the night.

The door closes behind you and you shudder, though you aren't entirely sure if it's the cold or this underlying feeling of unease that seems to linger like graveyard fog. You give it a count of thirty before twisting the knob and slowly leaning into the door so it opens without sound. Thankfully Pennyworth hasn't been slacking and the well oiled hinges swing the heavy door open without a sound and you slink back down the hall to the parlor.

The closer you get to the door the more you feel this pressure in your chest. Not like before where it felt like something inside wanted out. Now it's a solid force like someone sitting on your chest and refusing to move and the weight only grows heavier the closer you get. You put you hand on the knob and hear a faint whisper.

"Truth."

You turn and step inside, softly closing it behind you, the dim moonlight giving you just enough vision to make your way over the antique rug and lean down to a piece of paper still next to the torn envelope it came in. The letterhead is exactly what Hawthorne and you saw in the Warden's office. You gingerly slide the letter out and read swiftly.

"Dear Mr. Wayne, it saddens me to reach out to someone who has provided so much in the way of funding and support with poor news. However, I am also aware how busy your schedule is so I hope you understand why I will do away with pretense and address you plainly regarding the inquiries you made earlier this year.

In the case of Inmate 3347, Joe Chill, it is unfortunately my duty to inform you we will be unable to keep him incarcerated at our facility once administrative duties are fully shifted to the new ARGUS liaison set to be assigned in the coming months. I know this will be upsetting news but he simply does not meet the criteria for the new facility. That being said I have already reached out to the wardens of Crowley Penitentiary and Van Kull to ensure that he will face the rest of his life sentence in a prison suited for a man of his merit. Alternatively, I have been in contact with City Hall and there has been some discussion of inmate transfer to Arkham in the interim. However, such an act would require some maneuvering that could be eased with assistance from City Hall. If you have any interest in pursuing this course of action, simply let me know or pass along a similar sentiment through the Mayor's office. I know from personal experience that it can bring more peace to know someone that has hurt your family is kept close at hand. Many thanks to yourself and Mayor Dent, without you there wouldn't be a better Gotham on the horizon.

Yours faithfully, Adam Quinn, Warden of Blackgate Penitentiary."

You let the letter gently settle on the dustless side-table again as you feel your chest tighten. You put a hand on the arm of a nearby couch and let out a shaky breath as your heartbeat gets louder in your ears. For some reason that name invokes a pure dread in you. Joe Chill. You check the date and it was sent only two days prior to Halloween. You haven't looked over the after reports for the riots but there's a chance Joe Chill never made it through them. The thought brings a scowl to your face, it'd give merit to the idea of Wayne being involved with the riots if Chill happened to be one of the casualties just before he was sent out of Gotham. But you can't imagine the Bruce Wayne you've spoken to doing something like this...

The strange feeling passes over you only for your heart to fire through your chest again as a massive GONG from the grandfather clock echoes in your skull. You whip around but the time is nowhere near the top of the hour and the pendulum hangs still in the case. The silence in the room feels oppressive now as you feel that familiar cold presence lurking behind you. She's here again.

>Get out, you saw the letter and your shivers are already acting up just from being in here this long.
>Obviously the Lady in Red wants to show you something or tell you something. Take some breaths and clear your mind so she can come forward.
>This room is steeped in extremely heavy emotions and history. Maybe you can channel some of that and get a better idea of who Bruce Wayne really is.
>Write-In

>>6315046
>Get out, you saw the letter and your shivers are already acting up just from being in here this long.

>>6315046
>>Obviously the Lady in Red wants to show you something or tell you something. Take some breaths and clear your mind so she can come forward.
Fuck it, I'm tempted. Also-
>HeChill
He is VERY NOT FUCKING CHILL.

>>6315046
>Obviously the Lady in Red wants to show you something or tell you something. Take some breaths and clear your mind so she can come forward.
Trust in the City. I want Mark to NOT find out Bruce is Batman. I want him assuming wrong or seeing the truth in front of him as fake news and falsified evidence, like the spell all of Gotham is under.

>>6315046
>Get out, you saw the letter and your shivers are already acting up just from being in here this long.
Do we not want to avoid the comas and strokes and othe rmind whammies?

>>6315054
+1

GET OUT OF THERE, STALKER!

>>6315046
>Obviously the Lady in Red wants to show you something or tell you something. Take some breaths and clear your mind so she can come forward.

>>6315046
>Obviously the Lady in Red wants to show you something or tell you something. Take some breaths and clear your mind so she can come forward.

>>6315055
>>6315089
>>6315192
>>6315336

"Something on your mind?" You whisper in the silent still air of the parlor.

Your breath spreads out in front of you, a lacey mist that's disturbed by an invisible breeze passing through it. You shudder as the cold rolls over you and guides you to the vanity mirror and it's worn stool. If you let your eyes go out of focus you can almost make out the shape of a young man on it. His form shifting and rolling like the same mist from your mouth. Then you hear it faintly, his voice.

"I don't want to go..." The voice mumbles.

He's young, very young, but despite the difference in years something in your recognizes it immediately as Bruce Wayne.

"Master Bruce, I-" A familiar accented voice attempts to reply.

"I can't Pennyworth!" The voice cries out, you hear the echoing screech of the stool leg dragging over hardwood.

"I see..." Pennyworth says simply.

Then you hear the sniffling followed by a pregnant silence that has you straining to hear anything else... Then the clicking of polished shoe on floor. You can't see anything but the sound is clear enough in your mind that you can track it all the way over to the same wall that looms behind the grandfather clock. A dark wood plaque sits with an old rapier held aloft on pegs, the blade is perfectly clean without a speck of dust even now, the steps stop just before it. Then slowly they return to the stool and Pennyworth begins to speak again.

"How about we make a deal? If you can be strong enough to attend the funeral... Then I believe you may be strong enough to hold his rapier."

"Really?" The voice is small, hidden behind snot in the throat.

"Really. When we get back I'll even teach you how to use it. How to fight. So the next time you're in danger you know what to do."

"Like Zorro?" Bruce the younger asks through a final sniffle.

"Like Zorro." Alfred affirms.

You watch the misty figures embrace and Pennyworth carries Bruce to the door and you hear it close firmly. Zorro... You feel like that's important, like you're missing something right in front of you. But you're interrupted by the door opening again, or at least the sound of it, followed by two sets of shoes clopping inside then stopping.

"Master Bruce, I just cannot say I approve." Pennyworth's voice returns, less soft now.

"You've made that very clear, Alfred." Bruce counters, his voice deeper. A man now, but just barely.

"I am simply doing my duty in being honest with you. Master Richard is only a lad and I find myself questioning if you fully comprehend the road you're setting him upon. I question if it is the best course for him."

"I seem to remember not being much younger than he is when we had our first lesson with the rapier, Alfred."

"Then you know I speak from experience." He answers brusquely. "If I had known..."

"You couldn't have known." Bruce replies evenly and lightly. "But now we both do. That's why I thought you'd understand that this is important to Dick. More than that it's important FOR him. When I was a child, after I had lost my parents, I didn't have a way to release that... anger. That grief. You can't tell me you haven't seen that same mix brewing in him."

"He hides it well." Alfred sighs. "But yes, I have noticed signs..."

"Then you know he needs a release for that. A way to exorcise that hate before it consumes him and I can provide that in a way nobody else can. I can and I will." Bruce says the final words with a conviction and intensity that surprises you slightly.

His footsteps move, heading to the grandfather clock now, as Alfred speaks from the door.

"I will trust that you know best, though I cannot help but worry that his path may hold the same pain and loneliness that I watched you endure. It was hard enough once, but now..."

"Now he has the both of us." Bruce says gently. "You don't have to do it alone. After all, I'm not a boy anymore Alfred."

"Of course not, Master Bruce..." Alfred agrees, but his tone is underscored by nostalgia. "Will you be in for dinner tonight?"

"Working late, if you wouldn't mind bringing it down."

"Of course."

The voices fade out and you're left standing in front of the grandfather clock yourself, unconsciously walking closer to it as Bruce had until you stood in his place, you blink and take in the sight of your finger on the minute hand. Something urging you to rotate it forward but another equal urge telling you to walk away before you do something you can never take back. Even the silence is deeper like the city itself is holding it's breath.

>Set the clock to 10:48, just like your vision. You can't help yourself when you feel like a breakthrough on something is this close.
>Walk away. You've already seen way more than you intended and this rock in your gut is telling you this is the one knot you shouldn't untangle.
>Write-In(?)

>>6315511
>Walk away. You've already seen way more than you intended and this rock in your gut is telling you this is the one knot you shouldn't untangle.
Always trust your gut.

>>6315511
>>Walk away. You've already seen way more than you intended and this rock in your gut is telling you this is the one knot you shouldn't untangle.

NOPE.

"So what'd you pick up on Spirit FM?"
"I don't talk to ghosts." You clarify.
Don't be like that Mark, Spirit FM is a cool way to call shivers
>>6315511
>>Set the clock to 10:48, just like your vision. You can't help yourself when you feel like a breakthrough on something is this close.
Enough edging the reveal. Does it even change much? Mark's not gonna tell. Marks *is* going to get yelled at. "I thought the other you were involved in the current conspiracy bullshit" should cover his ass a bit in front of batman, but then Mark is gonna have to lie to Hawthorne. That's gonna suck.

>>6315511
>Walk away. You've already seen way more than you intended and this rock in your gut is telling you this is the one knot you shouldn't untangle.

>>6315511
>Walk away. You've already seen way more than you intended and this rock in your gut is telling you this is the one knot you shouldn't untangle.
Let's let ol' Batty keep his sense of secirity. He needs it

>>6315515
+1
I like to think we earlier learned our lesson in having some ignorance be bliss (see Darkseid).

That and I know a “are you sure you want to do that?” when I see it.

>>6315584
This

And there's NO way we weren't clocked (heh) as a security risk in the middle of all this. I wouldn't be surprised if Pennyworth noticed us via motion sensor or something and is just trying to see what we're doing.

>>6315511
>Walk away. You've already seen way more than you intended and this rock in your gut is telling you this is the one knot you shouldn't untangle.
While I’d like the idea that Mark capital K Knows at this point, I do think he’s gained enough awareness not to follow through his temptation until he feels he actually needs to. The clock revelation will have to wait a bit longer.

That being said, a slight reach for the clock before thinking otherwise.would be fitting.

>>6315613
Tbh, this just makes this moment a gigantic chekhov's gun.
And would make it's payoff that much more amazing if the red lady called us here at a time of great need for the city

>>6315511
>Walk away. You've already seen way more than you intended and this rock in your gut is telling you this is the one knot you shouldn't untangle.
Coma avoidance squad, checking in again.

Back from work, wrote this >>6315613 here.

>>6315634
Yeah, I figured Mark’s smart enough to place those two puzzle pieces together. I also figured he’s grown enough to realize what it’d mean for him and everyone in Gotham to connect them. It’d be like being able to summon Godzilla for one time only: you damn well better be sure your other options are gone before you did it.

Also, I kinda want to see Alfred’s fencing skills, now.

>>6315511
>Walk away. You've already seen way more than you intended and this rock in your gut is telling you this is the one knot you shouldn't untangle.

Fuuuuuuck that.

>>6315515
>>6315516
>>6315532
>>6315562

Your finger rests on the cold black metal of the clockface, the glass covering it long gone, but you resist the strange temptation. Somewhere in your gut or maybe in the back of your turbulent mind; you know what's waiting for you. At the same time another piece of your brain, sealed away in the dark, knows that some things are better left unearthed... at least for now. Pulling your hand away you swallow dryly as the cold presence behind you dissipates and you feel your skin rise and pimple. Somewhere in Gotham a man smiles for the first time in a week as he gets to enjoy dinner with his son.

You softly close the door behind you as you emerge in the hall before quietly sneaking back to the front door just in time for your radio to flare twice with a quiet crackle. You straighten up as you pull the walkie from your belt and press the button.

"All done, sir. Waiting at the front door like you requested."

A beat passes and then you hear Hawthorne's voice rumble through the box.

"Copy. Almost done checking the upstairs, go ahead and-" He stops for a moment and then his voice returns. "Pennyworth is gonna come keep you company while I finish this up apparently, I'll wrap it up soon as I can."

"Understood, sir. I'll stay by the door until you relieve me."

The channel goes dead as you slot the radio back into your belt and cross your hands in front of your waist and straighten up. Before long you hear the soft clicking of Pennyworth's polished leather soles coming down the stairs. He's perfectly poised and his posture impeccable, but you can see it in his eyes. A quick scan from head to toe as he looks you over before they begin sweeping the room, the entire time never breaking or slowing his stride, as he comes to a slow stop next to you he adopts the same posture as you both settle into a tense silence. You feel nervous and you aren't even sure why, the skin on your forehead prickles and it feels like a warm sweat is forming on your hairline. You clear your throat awkwardly and try to relieve some of the pressure with casual chat.

"You know. I actually know a guy from England..."

"How exotic." He replies dryly. "Where in England?"

"Oh uh... I don't really know. He was a rough guy though, lots of swearing, smoking, all around a bit of a dick actually.." You trail off awkwardly.

"Manchester or Essex, then." Pennyworth remarks casually, pulling a brass watch from his waistcoat and checking it. "Half past ten, if I'm lucky I'll be able to have the floors waxed before midnight."

"I thought it was freshly waxed?"

"It was." He says pointedly, his eyes darting to the ground.

You follow his vision and cringe as you notice tiny pieces of dirt and detritus that just barely dull the shine of the floor, in a broken but clear line right back down the hall you came from. You glance up at him and he's already fixed his eyes on you, his face cool and neutral.

"I did-"

>>6315584
>>6315613
>>6315641
>>6315687

He holds up a gloved finger to silence you.

"I trust your curiosity is satisfied?"

You furrow your brow in confusion but he simply maintains that iron gaze, unshaking. After a few seconds you nod.

"Yes, sir."

"Then we will leave it at that." He says putting his hand back down.

A far less elegant clomping follows his words as Hawthorne thunders down the staircase, thumbs tucked into his duty belt as he hits the floor with long strides.

"Place is massive but secure. Windows don't open, can thank gothic architecture for that, and the attic is fully sealed. No balconies to worry about and uh..." He trails off looking at you both.

"Everything good here?"

"Yes." Pennyworth says before you can speak. "I was just ensuring you wouldn't need to be going in or out any further tonight. I haven't set the alarm system you see. I also need to lock up some of the more sensitive areas of the house."

"I think we're good, we good rook?"

"Yes, sir."

"Alright then. You heard the man, Pennyworth. Feel free to lock up and handle whatever else you have on your plate tonight, we'll be doing a few exercises."

"Excellent, I will be up to disarm it at 7am sharp. I'll begin preparing breakfast at 7:30, as such I've been instructed by Master Wayne to offer you an invitation to sit in for breakfast, if you wish."

"Sure he'll be up in time for that after a night of partying?"

"The miracles of modern medicine." He replies dryly. "A banana bag makes an effective Apéritif."

Hawthorne snorts at that as another smile nearly cracks the edge of his mouth. He glances at you and raises a brow.

"We still gotta go in at nine. You willing to forgo some sleep for free chow?"

>"Sure, Grey warned me it would be a double and I got plenty of sleep today."
>"I'd rather head home if it's all the same, sir. Sorry, Pennyworth."
>"Sure, but shouldn't the offer also extend to Banks and the others? If it wouldn't be too much work for you to accommodate some extra seats?"
>Write-In

>>6315877
>"Sure, Grey warned me it would be a double and I got plenty of sleep today."

>>6315877
>"Sure, Grey warned me it would be a double and I got plenty of sleep today."
I hope Bruce understands we didn't mean anything by it when he watches our snooping back on the hidden camera feed.

>>6315877
>>"Sure, Grey warned me it would be a double and I got plenty of sleep today."

>>6315877
>"Sure, Grey warned me it would be a double and I got plenty of sleep today."

Alfred continues to be awesome

>>6315877
>"Sure, but shouldn't the offer also extend to Banks and the others? If it wouldn't be too much work for you to accommodate some extra seats?"
We can offer to help prep, even.

>>6315877
>"Sure, Grey warned me it would be a double and I got plenty of sleep today."
Let's roll

>>6315877
>"Sure, Grey warned me it would be a double and I got plenty of sleep today."

>>6315879
>>6315881
>>6315887
>>6315924

"Sure, Grey warned me it would be a double and I got plenty of sleep today." You look to Pennyworth. "I could help too, pretty handy with a knife actually."

"I appreciate the offer, but I have handled all of Master Wayne's meals since he was a child." Pennyworth says evenly, but you detect the underglow of pride. "Even when entertaining."

"I assume he had more than two guests at a time usually, eh?" Hawthorne asks.

"Most definitely, sir." Pennyworth replies. "Now, I must finish tending to the house and get my rest if I'm to be of service in the morning."

"Goodnight, Mr. Pennyworth." You offer politely.

Hawthorne offers a grunt and a nod which Pennyworth returns with dignified silence and a shallow bow. Turning stiffly he vanishes down the hallway you just came from. You and Hawthorne share a glance as his footsteps recede into the echoing darkness, punctuated by the faintest sound of a lock being engaged. Hawthorne's shoulders hop once with something mixed between a scoff and a chuckle as he jerks his head towards the other hallway.

"Come on, I promised you a lesson on clearing a house." He mumbles under his breath as you follow along. "We can talk after Emilio Lopez there goes to bed."

Going further into the manor Hawthorne talks over his shoulder to you.

"So you know a few tricks already, that means this'll be a quiz and a lesson all wrapped up in one. Let's take this for instance." His hand slaps a heavy door. "Now don't go whole hog on it, doubt the department could afford to replace it. Look at it and tell me what you see."

"Hinges hidden, that means it swings inwards."

"Right, so when you go to pie it don't half-ass the job. You wanna throw the door open as you hold one of the sides here." He presses himself against the wall as he clutches a phantom pistol. "You're on the left so how are you pie-ing this out?"

You mirror his posturing on the other side as you open the imaginary soor and then step out, hand raised.

"Start far right and clear left a sliver at a time as I step."

"Nothing goes past that door before you clear your sightlines. Your partner will cover the other half but if you're flying solo then it's a step back, half circle keeping that gun up as you cross from one flank to the other."

You demonstrate the technique and Hawthorne nods along before gently pushing you back a step further.

"Doors are bottlenecks." He says simply. "Everyone knows that if you wanna get in a room you gotta take the door, means anyone inside waiting for you knows exactly where to be looking or where to get the jump on you. That means you stay far enough away when you do this that some asshole can't stick a blind arm out and grab you or your weapon."

"But, what if I went for a window? Or-"

>>6315976
>>6315979
>>6316086

"Look. We aren't always paid to be smart." Hawthorne cuts you off. "Most of the time we get paid to do the dumb shit nobody else is willing to. That's why these kinds of drills and experience are important."

"Any other tips then?"

"Question, actually. The door opens inwards, right? Where does that put the most danger in the room?"

You pause for a moment and glance at the dark oak.

"Behind the door?"

"Right, that's why when you check these for real you wanna toss it out as hard as you can. If you don't hear it bounce off the wall then it isn't clear... or maybe he's just real skinny."

"But what if it's one of those doors with the hydraulics? Or if it's already open?"

Hawthorne grunts and turns the knob to the study, leaving the door wide open.

"First. You clear like normal." He states, giving the door a wide berth as he slowly and steadily swaps sides. "Then when you go for entry..."

He sticks his foot flush against the base of the door about halfway then he leans forward to grip the knob and gives the door a few solid tugs.

"Don't step too close because then you won't be able to get into the room enough to properly clear it. Your foot on the door is your anchor, your pivot point, keeps the door secure incase anyone tries to push it on you."

"But what do I do after that? Someone behind the door tries to slam it on me and it bounces off my foot?"

"Equal and opposite reaction." He says before driving his shoulder into the door, rapidly slowing before he makes contact. "Odds are they'll be standing there like a dipshit wondering what went wrong. So send it back at em."

He steps into the office and vanishing behind the door. His hand snaking around to gesture you closer before he starts blindly and slowly grabbing.

"THIS. Is not the move of an expert criminal, but you'd be surprised how many people pull it and how many people get gotten by it. Too many damn TV shows have a cop walking in with his gun held out in front of him like a blind fellas cane, they figure they can get the jump on you and wrestle it out." His hand finds your wrist and he grips firmly but not tightly. "Let's assume someone got the jump on you like this. What do you do?"

>Shoulder check the door at Hawthorne, lightly.
>Mime clicking on the safety and letting your gun go before drawing your tazer.
>Grip his wrist back and pull him and the door with you as you back up, catching his hand in between the frame and your gun.
>Draw your baton and bring it down on the wrist gently.
>Write-In

>>6316608
>>Draw your baton and bring it down on the wrist gently.
I have no clue about cqc but "never let go of your gun" seems like a safe bet

>>6316608
>Shoulder check the door at Hawthorne, lightly.
Can't just drop our sidearm and disengage for obvious reasons.
Staying in that doorway playing tug-of-war is a death sentence as Hawthorne said however.
One might check the door back into the perp forcefully so as to break their grip AND allow them to bounce back out the doorway immediately, though this isn't guaranteed to work.
While it's not ideal, pic related is a popular sentiment in the LEO community for a reason. Immediate violent action is the name of the game here.

>>6316608
>Grip his wrist back and pull him and the door with you as you back up, catching his hand in between the frame and your gun.

Make his body move in ways that a human body should not.

>>6316785
+1, seems like it would break an arm if they didn't let go.

>>6316608

>>6316785
+1

>>6316607
>Shoulder check the door at Hawthorne, lightly.
>>6316785
Wouldn't that turn into a tug of war?

>>6316971
Everything here would. The idea is to force your opponent to move in a way that the human body cannot.

Like bending an elbow backwards to break a grab. You wrench their wrists and possibly even injure them on the door. It’ll make holding the gun impossible.

>>6316785
>>6316798
>>6316924

If this were a real situation you'd have to act immediately. You briefly consider drawing your baton or tazer but taking your focus away from keeping your grip could be even worse. You pull back slightly and prepare the check the door when Hawthorne's voice echoes in your head.

"...Your foot on the door is your anchor..."

You've been under him long enough to start knowing how he thinks. He's got that foot planted, waiting for you to bounce off the door so he can wrench the gun from your hands, so you don't fall for it. Your free hand shoots out, clamping around his wrist, as you simultaneously walk backwards. You take long slow steps as not to actually hurt him but the effect is still displayed. Hawthorne's forearm is held fast against the edge of the door. The angle he holds your weapon doesn't give him the leverage to pull back, not without letting your weapon free, so you keep retreating making sure to use your legs instead of your upper body to pull his wrist into a point where it's sandwiched between the doorframe and the door. Hawthorne's hand releases and gives you a thumbs up as he takes a step back and pulls the door wide while rubbing his wrist.

"Not bad, rook. Not bad at all. Most people get grabbed by the arm and forget they got a set of working legs right under em. You walk on em all day, odds are they'll give you a better chance than your arms."

"Unless you have arms like Kimble."

"Kimble's a freak of nature. He wakes up and starts doing burpees. He actually likes em, the sick son of a bitch." Hawthorne chuckles.

"I know..." You reply with exaggerated sadness.

"Yeah well, you seem in good shape to me. Not too much longer before we're off special assignment and back to patrols."

"I'm excited. It's been fun working all the cases we get, helping out the Detectives or whoever. But I'm not looking to skip the line, I wanna put in my hours on the beat like everyone else. Well, if I leave the beat at all."

"What's that mean?" Hawthorne asks, arcing a bro as he steps into the study and sits on the plush arm of a leather chair.

"Nothing just... I promised Banks that if he ends up getting iced out due to the Gorchakov thing that I would stay on beat with him. Partner up so he wasn't alone."

"Jesus Christ, kid..." Hawthorne groans.

"What? I can't just abandon him, especially since I'm the one that convinced him to take the stand."

"He shouldn't have needed convincing. He shouldn't have gotten involved with Gorchakov's games in the first place. First time he was told to do something on the low he should have gone and reported it to Kimble or Reiner."

"You don't mean that."

"Why not? Look, he's fresh. Not as fresh as you but still, in the time he was here before you he was trying anything he could to jump ranks or get in with a specialty team. Undercover, Narco, SWAT, anyone who would listen got a sales pitch."

"He's ambitious, There isn-"

"He's hungry is what he is." Hawthorne cuts you off. "He's too fixated on making himself look good that he leaves the police work on the side. Banks is trying to make a point. To prove something to someone, maybe even himself. But you didn't cause his problem, you shouldn't shoot your career in the head before it even starts."

"Banks is a good guy. He's a good cop, he stood right there with me and Kimble when FireBug came at us. He took a ball of napalm for Dent."

"He did his job." Hawthorne says simply. "Then after that he went back to being Gorchakov's gopher because he was so blinded by MAYBE getting to work in Undercover that he was willing to ignore the marching band of flags waving in his face. I don't dislike him, I don't think he's a bad cop, but I do think he's shortsighted and you're destined for better things than walking a beat your whole life."

"Seems to have worked out for you." You reply curtly.

Hawthorne only glares at you before letting out a slow sigh and then shrugging.

"Horses and water." He mumbles. "Come in here and close the door, since this chat isn't going anywhere how about we talk about something else."

You step in and gently close the door, giving the hall a quick left and right in search of Pennyworth. It clicks and you find a desk chair to sit in.

"So." Hawthorne prods. "The letter, Blackgate like I thought?"

>Tell Hawthorne everything, including your shivers vision and 'feeling' regarding that clock.
>Tell Hawthorne about the contents of the letter, if what your gut is telling you is true maybe you should play what you saw close to the chest.
>"Letter was a bust, love letter from some heiress or something. I didn't read it through."
>Write-In

Also
>How does Mark feel about what Hawthorne said about Banks? Does it change his plan to keep the promise of staying on beat?

>>6317870
>Tell Hawthorne everything, including your shivers vision and 'feeling' regarding that clock.
He's running the show here, best we give him everything we have and let him decide what to do with it.
>How does Mark feel[...}?
Hawthorne has a point. It wouldn't do us any good to shitcan our own career just to keep that promise. That said, if Banks DOES get iced out (which may not even happen), it's not like that's the end of things. If we make detective, we might be able to start throwing our weight around on his behalf after a while.
Whatever the case, It's certainly something we should bring up to Banks when we get a chance.

>>6317870
>Tell Hawthorne about the contents of the letter, if what your gut is telling you is true maybe you should play what you saw close to the chest.
Also
>We can live in denial for now, hopinf it never comes down to that because Banks doesn't get frozen out
Again: the cop he flipped on is also a traitorous cop-KILLER. I don't think anyone will begrudge him.

>>6317884
>Again: the cop he flipped on is also a traitorous cop-KILLER. I don't think anyone will begrudge him.
You'd think that, but the fact that he's testifying against his 'fellow cop" is all a lot of shitheads will care about. That whole brothers in blue bullshit runs deep in every department man.

>>6317889
>the fact that he's testifying against his 'fellow cop" is all a lot of shitheads will care about. That whole brothers in blue bullshit runs deep in every department man.
Would they rather he kill them instead of testifying against them? Because that's what Gorchakov was doing

>>6317870
Backing >>6317884 though we should still bring it up to Banks later like >>6317879 said

>>6317870
>Tell Hawthorne about the contents of the letter, if what your gut is telling you is true maybe you should play what you saw close to the chest.

>How does Mark feel about Banks?
We can definitely take steps to make sure that more people in the department know about his partner’s murder. Let’s see the shitheads side with him then…

>>6317998
Gorchakov’s partner, I mean

>>6317998
>>6317884

"Yeah. It's dated for two days before Halloween, from the warden."

"Son of a bitch." Hawthorne growls.

"Relax it wasn't personal correspondence. He was writing Wayne to let him know about a specific prisoner he'd asked about earlier this year. Joe Chill."

"Chill..." Hawthorne rolls the word around as he squints. "What about him?"

"Apparently Wayne asked that he stay in Blackgate even after it goes federal with ARGUS. He also, not so subtly, tried to get Wayne to lean on city hall so they'd approve some plan of shifting the cons from Blackgate to Arkham until they find new cells for em out of county. Didn't seem familiar, it read like the runner up in an ass-kissing competition."

"Still. Shifting inmates to Arkham?"

"Guessing most of the Arkham inmates are gonna get shunted to whatever ARGUS makes out of Blackgate, where's that leave the hospital?"

"I don't know but my gut tells me Wayne wasn't in on the riots."

Hawthorne sucks his teeth and slides off the arm into the plush chair with a soft puff.

"Yeah... nothing from your shivers?"

"Old memories of his. Him and the butler, talking about that kid he took in." You say simply, better a half truth than a full lie. Even if it is only a lie of omission.

Hawthorne grunts and nods.

"Sir, can I ask you something? Regarding Banks?" You inquire, shifting the subject.

"Shoot."

"He seems really worried about his career taking a hit from this but... I don't really get it. He's doing the right thing here."

"The right thing is different for everyone, kid."

"I could understand that if this was as simple as taking a bribe or maybe turning a blind eye to something minor. But Gorchakov killed a cop."

"It's not that cut and dry, Mark."

"He killed a fucking cop." You reiterate. "He could have and probably would have killed ANY of them. Any of US. If they got in the way or learned too much. What did they expect Banks to do?"

"You want the handbook answer or the real answer?"

"What?"

"You've seen a good side of the GCPD, Mark. You've experienced a little razzing like the superman stunt, you were bothered by Kimble's methods with his CI's, and I saw you go green in the gills when Fischer made it clear he'd have rather seen that junkie kid's head get ventilated than spare a man to book him. And those are just the small blemishes on that side of the face."

"It's not like you to sugar coat things, Hawthorne. You think I won't see this stuff myself eventually?"

"I know you will." He says firmly. "But my job is not just to train you in how to be a cop. It's to evaluate you and decide what you're ready to deal with."

"And you think I can't deal with it?"

Hawthorne sighs.

"Fine. God's honest it is. This isn't about Banks or Gorchakov, it isn't even about the badges he put black stripes on. It's about them. Every individual officer it's about him or her." He leans forward in his seat, his eyes locked on yours. "This mess with Gorchakov, I can't tell you what people expected from Banks. But I can tell you what they would have preferred; a bullet in Gorchie's head and an investigation that gets nowhere. Preferably blamed on a gang."

You blink a few times and your jaw works but no sound comes out as you try to rationalize this.

"Think about it." Hawthorne says, spotting your bewilderment. "Gorchakov gets turned in. Every case he's ever touched is tainted. Any cops who worked those cases are gonna be under the microscope now. Anyone who signed an evidence log, watched over a scene, collected spent casings. Every. Single. One. Of those people are gonna have IA swarming them like flies on shit. Our ENTIRE department is gonna be looked into which means the guys who did what you said earlier are all sweating because the time they let their sister skate by on a petty theft could pop up on the radar now all because of one person. Anthony Banks."

"But I thought Gordon-"

"Slayed the dragon? Pulled out corruption by the stem, roots and all? Corruption isn't a plant Mark, it's a fuckin fungus. So long as one spore lives the whole fucking mushroom'll spring up again. Then those mushrooms take in new recruits and make them spores of the same kind. It's why Gordon wanted to implement this TO program city-wide. The Watch Commanders are all hand picked by him, who in turn, approve who can and can't be a TO."

"How the hell did Gorchakov get approved?"

"Connections. Happened before Reiner replaced the last Watch Commander and then the union rep made sure he kept that spot. He knew a lot of people, probably buddies at his strip joint poker sessions, all of em probably more pissed off than your average grunt at Banks. All of em holding their jobs the same way he did, for now. Gordon didn't win a battle when he became commissioner after exposing Loeb, he enlisted in a war."

"So the GCPD is just as messed up as it's always been..." You say quietly.

"Bullshit." Hawthorne corrects, his voice firm but not angry. "I lived through this shit when it was at it's lowest. I was given the same opportunities to get in the mud. Got offers that would make make any normal kid from the Narrows thank Christ almighty, let alone someone who moved up from cardboard to plywood. But I never considered em and it wasn't because of honor or some other bullshit. It was because all I saw was another asshole thinking money meant they could do anything they wanted."

"So you said no but still moved up. You ran with SWAT and Narcotics, you're a Sergeant! Banks could do the same."

"Mark..." Hawthorne speaks lightly. His eyes have shifted, that righteous fire now dull as he drops his eyes to his hands as he slowly rotates his wedding band. "I know you have a high opinion of me... Not a lot of people do, especially not many people like you, but you need to know I'm not perfect."

"I know that."

"No. Not really. I still moved up through the ranks and got my chances because even though I didn't pocket the cash... I didn't say anything about the ones who did. I was never a participant but I sure as shit was complicit."

"What..."

"Times were different. Not an excuse but, I wasn't worried about my career going to shit, I was worried about Suzie and my boy. So I kept my mouth shut, I let things slide, one of those offers I was telling you about... Falcone capo came to me and my partner during the time Grey and I were split up. We had responded to 242 at one of the family's favorite bistros. Some schmuck was in the back with a fork jammed between two ribs. What did he do to deserve that? He slurped his pasta while the that capo was trying to talk on the phone. By the time we got there the guy was pretty adamant he'd tripped getting up from the table and did it to himself."

You frown and swallow what feels like a ball of sandpaper as you listen. Hawthorne's face shows it's full age as he tells this story, his usual stoic features seeming to sag with time and regret.

"This son of a bitch, this arrogant pigheaded prick of a wise guy, we asked him if that was correct and he laughed. 'Disrespected him in his own joint' he said. 'Accident was bound to happen.'" Hawthorne scoffs. "But because someone else called it in we had to put something in the report, make it look clean, he offered us five grand apiece to put down that we checked the cameras and what we saw backed up the tripping story."

"And you..."

"Turned him down, like I said. But my partner... he said 'Shit! I'll take his half!' like it was a joke." Hawthorne's hand curls into a fist so tight you hear a knuckle crack. "Then he laughed. And the capo laughed. And... fuck me. So did I. We all fucking laughed it up while a guy with cutlery in his chest sat there staining a kitchen towel. But the real fucking joke was that after Gordon took over, I figured I could make up for everything I looked past. That there was no reason I couldn't be the man Suzie thought I was. When things were easy I ran down every scumbag I could find, like a man possessed, to try and make up for being a spineless pussy when it was hard to do the right thing... and it got her killed. All those turned cheeks and unheard conversations. For nothing. I didn't protect a fucking thing except myself."

The silence between you feels like a physical gulf. The air as solid as any wall. Your brain running all his words through your mind as you process this. You never thought Hawthorne was a saint but at the same time... you don't even know what to think. The quiet lingers until Hawthorne straightens up and meets your eyes again. He looks tired.

"You're the first person I told all that to... and I understand if this changes things. But I thought about what you said. 'No secrets' you deserve that, Mark."

>"You did what you had to do for your family and trust me I know just how tight those bonds are. The fact you're still torn up about it after this long means you were never like them. Not really."
>"I don’t really know what to say to that, sir... I mean, I get it, I do. I just... never thought you could do something like that. Not after everything you’ve taught me about being a good cop."
>"I understand times were different... But I don't know how to trust a system based on silence. One that's STILL based on silence. I wanted to make a difference but with everything you’ve told me it seems that it never changes. If Gordon couldn’t do it there’s no way I could. Not really."
>Write-In


Since we got a small amount of votes but some good chatter I decided to incorporate it into the scene. Please let me know what you guys think as this is probably the biggest Hawthorne lore dump yet and I'm curious what your thoughts as players are on this. Also, I haven't asked in a while so as a secret extra vote for the Author's note readers...

>Who is your favorite character in the quest so far and why?

I hope you guys enjoyed reading this chat as much as I enjoyed writing it. See you soon.

>>6318325
>"I understand times were different... But I don't know how to trust a system based on silence. One that's STILL based on silence. I wanted to make a difference but with everything you’ve told me it seems that it never changes. If Gordon couldn’t do it there’s no way I could. Not really."
Hawthorne's clearly been sitting with this a long time, so I'm not about to try and placate him on this. What I am more worried about, from Mark's perspective, is how you even navigate that sort of system without being a part of it.
It feels like the moment we stand up and do the right thing, it's gonna paint a gigantic target on our back. Us and anybody we might care about...like it's already done with this whole SIM business.
Christ, why's Gotham gotta be a fucking mess on every level!?
I feel like this is a well earned bit of melodrama. He's an old man and we've been through enough bullshit together already to justify him trusting us enough to confide in us like this. I also like how it presents the ever-present issue of systemic corruption and the challenges that poses to characters who have to actively engage with it like Mark, Hawthorne, Banks, anybody who doesn't have the ability to buck the system entirely like a classic Cape. Feels very appropriate given the hook of this Quest.
As for my favorite...it's hard to say. I wanna put down Hawthorne, but that might just be because he's the one we've had the most time with and know the most about. I don't know, I think you do a good enough job writing characters in general that it's hard to say any stick out as my absolute favorite.

>>6318325
>Write-in
“With all due respect sir, fuck that. I’m not going to hold things against you that I’ve never seen for myself.”

“I get that you have a hard time letting that go. But all I’ve seen is a TO who wants to leave a better GCPD than he came into.”

“All this business about Banks and staying on the beat? I did that because of what you told me about the force, about what we could be.”

>>6318338
>>6318338
Can't we do both of these? or is it conflicting too much?

>It feels like the moment we stand up and do the right thing, it's gonna paint a gigantic target on our back. Us and anybody we might care about...like it's already done with this whole SIM business.
Not only is Mark a good guy cop, he's also a meta without being a cape. That's double the target layers.
>Christ, why's Gotham gotta be a fucking mess on every level!?
Blame the comic writers
>the ever-present issue of systemic corruption and the challenges that poses to characters who have to actively engage with it like Mark, Hawthorne, Banks, anybody who doesn't have the ability to buck the system entirely like a classic Cape
We play Mark as the good guy Shivers cop but you can't full Disco Elysium in Gotham. Mark as a character is no messiah, and neither are we the voters and players, and neither is the QM writing this. Any of us here, players and QM, might be liable to fall for this sort of thing and take the money in real life if we were ever offered it. That's the REAL devil deal right there. And what can any of us do about human nature, about the animal survival instinct wearing a modern suit and tie, living in a society on a world where money equals power time and time again? What can any of us do other than what we're already doing as individuals?

>>6318325
Caught back up at last. Really enjoyed reading everything that happened on Halloween night and the stuff with Allison was all pretty cute. Glad anons didn't choose to be retards and hide how fucked up Mark's life has become from her like some sort of dumbass cape. Like Nia.
>"I understand times were different... But I don't know how to trust a system based on silence. One that's STILL based on silence. I wanted to make a difference but with everything you’ve told me it seems that it never changes. If Gordon couldn’t do it there’s no way I could. Not really."

>Who is your favorite character in the quest so far and why?
Probably the Question. He's always entertaining when he shows up, I like his interactions with Mark and I enjoyed watching how his character has developed over the course of the quest. Mark's earnest boy scout routine is more effective than any therapy or medication.

>>6318399
>Like Nia.
Legit forgot she existed before I read your post. You know, probably a good sign.

>>6318399
>Like Nia

Fuuuuuck anon, now she’s gonna show up again. Don’t even mention that bitch’s name.

>>6318325
>"You did what you had to do for your family and trust me I know just how tight those bonds are. The fact you're still torn up about it after this long means you were never like them. Not really."

Question, or Hawthorne for OCs.

>>6318337
>Christ, why's Gotham gotta be a fucking mess on every level!?
Multidimensional and multiversal demonic bat monster.

>>6318533
>Multidimensional and multiversal demonic bat monster.
I REALLY wish they'd stop doing these types of retcons. Cheapens the fuck outta these stories to make every issue in the setting the machinations of a single big bad evil guy retroactively.

>>6318538
>Cheapens the fuck outta these stories to make every issue in the setting the machinations of a single big bad evil guy retroactively.
But that's how it is and how it has always been in real life? Online too. Whenever some stupid fucked up shit happens it's almost always 1 deranged sociopath creature behind it all- and if it's multiple people, they will not be more than single digit numbers of individuals, guaranteed. It's this shit over and over again

Update: I am being tasked with a double so I won't really have time for an update tonight. I'll leave the vote open and try to get an earlier update in tomorrow. If you have any Q&A style questions or story things you want clarified feel free to ask now and I can occasionally pop in for short responses to those tonight. I just can't crank out a full update sadly.

In the mean-time feel if you haven't voted you should go ahead and do that. (I'm talking directly to you, anon. Stop lurking.)

>>6318325
>>"I understand times were different... But I don't know how to trust a system based on silence. One that's STILL based on silence. I wanted to make a difference but with everything you’ve told me it seems that it never changes. If Gordon couldn’t do it there’s no way I could. Not really."
So Banks is still fucked and is going to be two-face. Got it.

>>6318906
Nah, we'll keep him honest.

>>6318337
>>6318399
>>6318906

The silence drags on a few seconds longer as you gather your swirling thoughts. Eventually you clear your throat awkwardly and speak up.

"I understand times were different... But I don't know how to trust a system based on silence. One that's STILL based on silence. I wanted to make a difference but with everything you’ve told me it seems that it never changes. If Gordon couldn’t do it there’s no way I could. Not really."

"Now you listen." Hawthorne begins, his voice gathering more of that steel it typically holds. "I didn't tell you that so you could let it stop you. I told you so you'd understand the slant of the hill you're pushing this rock up."

"Hawthorne, I'm jus-"

"I ain't done." He cuts you off. "Now you're right, you're no Jim Gordon. You're green as they come, lack real world experience, and you don't understand the full scope of the problem you wanna fix... but so was Gordon once. It's like I said; Gordon thought he was picking a fight with Loeb but really he was signing up for a war. The edge you get over him is you can go into that war with both eyes open."

"So what I should be encouraged by the fact that things have barely changed? Gotten marginally better?"

"Change is change. You weren't the person to start this shift and you might not even be around to see it finally work out. I know I won't. But I'm gonna leave knowing that the GCPD is better now than when I started, that what I did helped people even if it came late. Even if I could have helped more." He slides forward until he's on the edge of his seat, his elbows digging into his legs as he leans forward. "The thing you got over everyone else is who you are. I'm not like you. You've got the kind of integrity you can't teach, you and Gordon both. That's why I respect both of ya."

You look in his eyes and you see the emotion there. Blunt and forward as always. Pride. You nod.

"Now I didn't say all that so we could throw a pity party for either one of us. I fucked up but I'm doing my best to fix it. That's what a man does. Besides, I plan on making up for some of my own shit by setting you loose on the department someday because I believe that with some time you'll end up a damn fine officer." He straightens up in his seat and holds your eye. "Because even though I rag on you for sounding like an Eagle scout troop leader sometimes; I believe you mean what you say with everything you got."

"I do."

"Do you?" He scoffs. "Cause it sounded to me like you were wondering the point of it all just a second ago. You were gonna learn this sooner or later, son. The deck's stacked against you, that's your weight to carry. But the real question is if you're gonna use this weight as something you lift to become stronger or if you're gonna let it pull you down like an anchor."

You remember that phrase well from your earliest days of training, just a few months ago, everything seems so different now. Hawthorne rises from his seat and approaches yours as he holds out his hand.

"You're not gonna let it be an anchor, are you?" He asks firmly.

"No, sir." You reply, grasping his hand and rising to meet him as he claps your shoulder.

"Good man. Now let's-"

The radio crackles to life and you hear Bunko's meandering voice come through.

"Sergeant, I got someone on the street out here, sedan with the brights on just facing the gates. Haven't made a move yet but it's been over five minutes."

Hawthorne goes to grab his belt walkie only for another crackle. This time Banks.

"Also got something in the rear garden near the cemetery, Sarge. Found a coat tossed over the top of the fence, someone might have hopped it."

Hawthorne mutters a curse as you speak.

"Do we do something?"

"Like what?" He replies

>"Like I go and check out the cemetery. Give Costas and Banks a hand sweeping it."
>"Like I go and make sure Bunko isn't freaking out over a pizza delivery boy."
>"Like you go and check out the cemetery. Give Costas and Banks a hand sweeping it."
>"Like you go and make sure Bunko isn't freaking out over a pizza delivery boy."
>"Fair point... we should stay here. We're the house team after all."
>Write-In

>>6318978
>"Like I go and check out the cemetery. Give Costas and Banks a hand sweeping it."

>>6318978
>"Like I go and check out the cemetery. Give Costas and Banks a hand sweeping it."

Also, I don't knwo if it's been proposed yet but we'd be damn good in IA.

>>6318978
>"Fair point... we should stay here. We're the house team after all."
>Write-In
“Everyone, comms check every 5 mins. Mansion team is staying put. Two things at the same time? Someones playing games with us. Keep your eyes open. Bunko, see if you can tell them to get moving.”

If possible, call in a potential disturbance but no assistance required at this time so at least someone outside knows of something ongoing.

This is a setup. The coat could have been easily pulled after crossing. It was left there for a singular purpose, to be found. The car too is a distraction that requires resolving.

>>6318978
>"Like I go and check out the cemetery. Give Costas and Banks a hand sweeping it."
More of a Grecian phrase than Roman, but that phrase about planting trees you’ll never rest under popped up in my mind from Hawthorne’s speech.

>>6318978
>"Fair point... we should stay here. We're the house team after all."
>>6318988
This, do NOT fall for distractions!

>>6318988
+1

>>6318978
>"Fair point... we should stay here. We're the house team after all."
We were assigned to guard the HOUSE, how about we do our job?

>>6318978
>>6318988
+1

>>6318978
>>"Fair point... we should stay here. We're the house team after all."
>>Write-In
We have meta powers. We know this is a major gotham centerpoint given the red lady influence.

Why don't we just get a feel for the area the same way we did for the sewers and FEEL if something is off?

>>6319316
I think trying to use shivers in Bruce Wayne’s house would be the shivers equivalent of looking at 50 flash bangs go off

>>6319601
At the very least we'd get a stellar BTAS reference.

>>6318988
>>"Fair point... we should stay here. We're the house team after all."
>>Write-In
>“Everyone, comms check every 5 mins. Mansion team is staying put. Two things at the same time? Someones playing games with us. Keep your eyes open. Bunko, see if you can tell them to get moving.”
>If possible, call in a potential disturbance but no assistance required at this time so at least someone outside knows of something ongoing.
>This is a setup. The coat could have been easily pulled after crossing. It was left there for a singular purpose, to be found. The car too is a distraction that requires resolving.

Too good of a point to pass on.

>>6319834
Question is rubbing off on us, kek. Okay.

>>6318978
Changing >>6318983 to instead back >>6319834

>>6319834
+1

>>6318988
>>6318990
>>6319001
>>6319094
>>6319834
>>6319844
>>6319880

"Fair point... we should stay here. We're the house team after all."

"Exactly right, rook." Hawthorne replies lifting the radio.

"Uh sir... there is one thing though."

"Spit it out, they're waiting on our call."

"Just... this stinks. Two things at once? A conspicuous car out front making itself stand out AND a jacket that was just LEFT on the fence? When the first thing anyone would do after making that hop-"

"Is to take it with em..."

"Especially with two flashlights wandering around out there, we aren't exactly being subtle about us being here."

"You might be onto something, rook." Hawthorne grunts before handing over the radio. "Show me you know how to delegate."

You accept the brick from his hands and depress the button.

"Everyone. We're gonna be doing comm checks every five minutes on the minute, simple 'radio check' will do. Mansion team is gonna stay put, I think someone might be playing games with us. Banks and Costa, keep your eyes open, whoever left that coat maybe wanted it to be found. Bunko and Chen, have a talk with that driver and see if you can't get em to move along or produce some ID that proves they live in the area."

You release the button and glance to Hawthorne who nods once and takes his walkie back before holding it to his own mouth. All the while heading for the door back to the halls.

"You get that?" He asks simply.

"Received, Sergeant." They reply piece by piece.

"Sir? Should we call this in? Not full on lights and everything but just let dispatch know we have a disturbance?"

"I don't know. Should we?" He raises an eyebrow.

You take the hint and lift your own belt walkie.

"Dispatch, this is 1-Adam-0, we have an 11-54 at Wayne Manor and potential 415. Code 6 for now but please stand-by to receive." You stand there in awkward silence for a few seconds before Hawthorne slaps your bicep and clears his throat. "Oh uh.. how copy?"

"Received, 1-Adam-0, alerting patrols in surrounding area of potential 415 at Wayne Manor but holding them for now. Over and out."

The line goes dead and you sheath your radio while Hawthorne nods approvingly.

"Bit awkward but you got the point across." He chuckles. "We're gonna split. I'll take the front door and west wing, you take the back and the east. Check in... three minutes. Then every five like you said."

"Understood, I'll radio if anything comes up."

"Same. Keep your eyes up."

You watch Hawthorne vanish down the dark hall, the clicking of his boots slowly fading with him. You lightly touch your backup's grip, tucked firmly in your belt, an act that brings you a little more peace of mind than you expected as you start your own patrol. The windows are tall and framed with blackened steel or wrought iron, like something out of a Bram Stoker novel, running your fingers along the base make it clear that the only way to open these is with something heavy.

The more you walk the more those ephemeral whispers have spikes of emotion. There's no words you can make out clearly but more than once you're washed over with the icy water of fear or feel your heart shrink with a sense of inevitable dread. You pause by one of the tall gothic windows and stare out into the night swearing you feel something looking back at you. Somewhere in Gotham... high above it all, a man looks down on the lights of the city and the blackness between like the squares of a chessboard. You shake off the sensation and raise your radio.

"Check-in."

"Clear for now, still sweeping." Banks replies.

"West Wing is clear." Hawthorne answers.

"Driver for the sedan pulled out when Bunko approached, I got half a plate that I'm trying to match to make and model." Chen answers.

"Bunko get a description of the driver?" Hawthorne asks through crackling static.

"Male, average build, wearing a some kind of hat like a fedora or something."

Your stomach clenches. Please God don't let it be who you think it is...

"Costas, Banks. That jacket you found, describe it." Hawthorne asks probably sharing your same flop-sweat.

"Track jacket, red with those white stripes down the side." Costas replies. "No sign of anything apart from that so far."

"Copy. Next check in five." Hawthorne says simply.

You let out a sigh of relief and sheath the radio. At least it isn't another instance of your worlds bumping, but still something about this all is making the back of your brain itch. The pieces of the puzzle you've picked up so far aren't quite meshing. As you make it to the back of the house you stand before two grand glass doors that lead out to a small patio surrounded by luscious foliage. Deep green dotted with colorful flowers that are only now starting to lose their vibrance and wilt. Then something catches your eye... the faintest rustle of the plants. Probably the wind or an animal... or something else. You freeze and reach to the switches mounted on the wall. One flick and the back patio is drenched in light and as you stare you realize you've already put hand to holster.

Thump.

Your grip tightens, impressing the diamond hatch into your palm as you look up towards the source of the sound. It's deep and rhythmic like a heartbeat that looms directly overhead.

Thump.

You glance outside again and feel that familiar prickle only to have another sound bring your eyes back up. You can't explain why your mouth is bone dry and your eyes refuse to blink, but the silence in your head lets you know it's more than instinct and paranoia putting you on edge. Something is near you. Something alive.

>This is exactly why you're working in pairs. Radio Hawthorne to sweep the upstairs while you check out the back patio.
>You haven't really SEEN anything outside, but that noise? It's there. You need to check it out.
>That sound could be anything, but more likely than not it's Pennyworth getting ready for bed or maybe Bruce woke up. You definitely saw something move outside, you should check it.
>Write-in

>>6320547
>>This is exactly why you're working in pairs. Radio Hawthorne to sweep the upstairs while you check out the back patio.
What is this, the Spencer Estate? This place got immensely spooky all of the sudden.

>>6320547
>This is exactly why you're working in pairs. Radio Hawthorne to sweep the upstairs while you check out the back patio.

>>6320551
It is where Gotham's hammiest goth lives.

>>6320547
>This is exactly why you're working in pairs. Radio Hawthorne to sweep the upstairs while you check out the back patio.

>>6320547
>This is exactly why you're working in pairs. Radio Hawthorne to sweep the upstairs while you check out the back patio.
Is the Bat himself lurking near? When he knows we're on the job and Alfred told him we didn't touch the clock hands?

>>6320547
We don't need to go out. There's only one way in and out from our position. The door.

If it's there and wants to come in, it has to go through the door. Why not have the rear team investigate while we hold the door.

We go down, and bogey has minutes of clearance.

>>6320655
But that puts the rear team in danger... though if anything happens we can always bust out the door and draw a bead on any Uniform Tango in the vicinity, right?

>>6320547
>This is exactly why you're working in pairs. Radio Hawthorne to sweep the upstairs while you check out the back patio.

>>6320658
... someone's gonna be in danger if there is danger

But us down means someone can get in the house. If someone gets attacked outside, we can help

>>6320547
I agree with >>6320655
Better to hold the door and call for backup.

>>6320551
>>6320632
>>6320640
>>6320643
>>6320655
>>6320760
>>6320688

You glance once to the door and draw your radio, this is the reason you work in pairs.

"Hawthorne?" You radio in. "Got a sound upstairs, east wing. Can you check it out? I think I may have seen something on the back patio so I'm gonna hold the door."

"Copy. Bunko, you and Chen move your patrol car to the gate and keep an eye on the front door. DeLucia, hold the door until the rear team gets there to clear it."

"Received." Chen's voice comes through.

"Yes, sir." You answer back, tucking the radio away again.

You breathe a little easier now. Allowing the thump upstairs to lie in the background you focus your attention back to the rear door, the light not revealing anything and for a moment you start to wonder if you were imagining things. But then the leaves rustle again.

"What the fuck?" You mutter to yourself as you pop the strap on your holster.

A man, Caucasian, tall as Hawthorne strides out of the bushes. A flat cap rests snugly above his eyes, which are nearly swallowed whole by his pupil. He strides forward confidently with a grey stone brick in his hand and a flat expression. You pull your weapon as his face twists into a snarl and he rockets that brick straight towards you.

"Fuck!" You shout, shielding your face from the flying shards and throwing yourself to the side. You let your shoulder slam into the wall to remain standing.

The brick clatters down the hall and as you look back up you see him sticking a leg through the door, ducking to fit through the empty frame. Red track pants with white stripes, the owner of the mystery jacket. His eyes lock with yours and he speaks low.

"Where is Bruce Wayne?"

>Raise your weapon and fire, center mass, unarmed or not he's way too close.
>Draw down on him and get distance, rear team or Hawthorne had to hear that glass shatter. The cavalry's coming, keep him at bay and distracted.
>He's unarmed but more than that he may know something. Holster your gun and draw your (baton, OC Spray, tazer).
>He might be bigger than you, but you've been working on your cardio. Take off deeper into the halls, maybe you can lead him right to Hawthorne.
>Write-In

>>6321116
>Back up and place a hand on your holster, unclipped but not readied, and tell him to put his hands up and get on his knees if he doesn't want a new hole -- "and don't get any smart ideas, I'm a meta and you don't stand a chance"
>Shoot if he makes any other move

Drawing without shooting squanders the quick-draw bonus. Maybe dropping our powers will spook him, if nobody's told him about us.

>>6321116
>Draw down on him and get distance, rear team or Hawthorne had to hear that glass shatter. The cavalry's coming, keep him at bay and distracted.
Perp's under the influence and belligerent. He gets exactly ONE chance to get the fuck on the ground.

>>6321116
>his eyes, which are nearly swallowed whole by his pupil.
Is he a drop-head? On some other substance?
>strides forward confidently with a grey stone brick in his hand
He came here armed
>"Where is Bruce Wayne?"
And he's after the VIP
>you stand before two grand glass doors that lead out to a small patio
And he just brick smashed the glass doors
>A flat cap rests snugly above his eyes
Slight eye protection, spray might be bad here

>He's unarmed but more than that he may know something. Holster your gun and draw your (baton, OC Spray, tazer).
Tazer, it also benefits from quick draw. He's big, he has big mass, he's an easy target for the voltage to collapse him onto the glass he broke

>>6321116
>>6321119
+1
The sheer audacity would win us a some time.

>>6321116

>Draw down on him and get distance, rear team or Hawthorne had to hear that glass shatter. The cavalry's coming, keep him at bay and distracted.

Its not combat optimal or clever but its a respectable move.

>>6321277
Hawthorne should stay in place. This may be a multi-man assault and we don't want to leave other areas exposed. Rear gaurd should come though. Should be consolidating around the house; hope Hawthorne called it.

He's also doped up; threats may not work. Altered state of mind. Why don't we make use of the doors like Hawthorne mentioned? Fall back and leverage his arm?

Rolled 6 (1d100)

>>6321119
>>6321121
>>6321203
>>6321277

Give me 1d100, Best of 3.

My roll is for mystery reasons soon to be revealed.

Rolled 94 (1d100)

>>6321562
>6
it's over...

Rolled 19 (1d100)

>>6321562

Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>6321562
>6
Hope that's good for us.

>>6321564
>>6321565
>>6321570
>>6321125


Your first action is to retreat, not much, just enough to get a foot planted behind you and assume proper firing stance. The entire time he lumbers through the frame your eyes are darting over him trying to take in and make sense of everything you can see.

Possible drop head from that look in his eyes but there's no tears or irritation, they look more glazed than anything. He was armed until he chucked it at you, but looking the size difference is far from non-existent. That hat is also pulled low, could block spray... All of that combined with his abandoned jacket and him mumbling over Wayne spells out that he's here on a mission but not exactly the most forward thinking. You can stop this without killing him... you hope.

Your hand tightens on your pistol but you don't draw it yet. You summon your strongest voice and bellow a lawful order.

"GCPD! Drop to your knees and put your hands behind your head!"

"Wayne." He grunts once, bringing another heavy leg through the doorway. He's inside now. "Find Bruce Wayne..."

You steady your breathing and take a step back as he takes another lurch forward.

"You should know.." You start firmly. "I'm a meta, you don't have much of a chance against me... If you surrender now I won't put a new hole in you."

You try your best to sound intimidating but your words seem to go completely unheard as he breathes heavily in a steady rhythm. He slowly inhales and holds the breath. You don't realize it but you mimic the action. Your fingers still on your weapon, the metal feeling like icy inevitability, your eyes focus on center mass and the muscles up and down your arm go tense.

A rapid exhale prefaces his sneaker chirping off a freshly waxed floor as he puts the power of that massive leg into launching himself at you down the hall. His form is textbook but yours is near perfect. The high pitched chirp covers the sound of oiled metal sliding over soft leather. The first footstep falling covers the click of your safety before the gun is even level. By the time the second foot is in motion you've already leveled off and released that held breath. Just like you practiced.

Bang.

Your ears ring as the explosion bounces off the walls and all through the manor as you stare at the spreading circle of deep red that's now soaking his shirt. Behind him you see a hole in the door frame accented by crimson speckles. His foot drags suddenly as he slumps to the side, gripping his chest, he looks up at you with wide scared eyes. His pupils are pin-pricks now as he stares up at you.

"Why did you shoot me?" He asks in a breathy voice, before he stiff-arms the wall and slowly slides down until he crumbles over his own legs.

His breathing is shallow and rapid, the blood isn't surging from the wound so you probably missed a major artery. But his eyes are fluttering now, that glaze gone and replaced with confusion and pain. He's awake for now but soon he'll pass out and after that...

>He isn't a threat anymore, now you need to focus on first aid and keeping this guy alive so he can be questioned later.
>Keep your weapon trained on him but radio for an ambulance and the rear team. You aren't getting close to him without some back up.
>Keep your weapon trained on him, this may be a chance to get some answers. (Ask him what?)
>Write-In

>>6321597
>>He isn't a threat anymore, now you need to focus on first aid and keeping this guy alive so he can be questioned later.
Somebody had him hypnotized. Goddamnit. We should have noticed that earlier.
He's not in any position to answer questions right now, so let's make sure he doesn't die before he can.

>>6321597
>He isn't a threat anymore, now you need to focus on first aid and keeping this guy alive so he can be questioned later.
Could be the Mad Hatter's work. Make sure to secure his flat cap.

>>6321597
>He isn't a threat anymore, now you need to focus on first aid and keeping this guy alive so he can be questioned later.

>>6321597
>>He isn't a threat anymore, now you need to focus on first aid and keeping this guy alive so he can be questioned later.

>>6321597
>He isn't a threat anymore, now you need to focus on first aid and keeping this guy alive so he can be questioned later.
Oh shit oh fuck this is a setup

>>6321597
>He isn't a threat anymore, now you need to focus on first aid and keeping this guy alive so he can be questioned later.

>>6321597
>He isn't a threat anymore, now you need to focus on first aid and keeping this guy alive so he can be questioned later.
Check the cap. Fuck. I didn't even think of Jervis Alicefucking Tetch. :/ Damn. Poor bastard.

>>6321599
>>6321603
>>6321616
>>6321631
>>6321636
>>6321656
>>6321752

An icy spear goes through the center of your gut as you register the expression on his face. The sincere confusion in his words. Your gun finds home again on your hip as you rush forward.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck..." You chant before grabbing his legs and pulling his legs straight and dropping to a knee.

"Stay awake pal, I'm gonna put some pressure on the wound and it's gonna hurt like hell but just focus on breathing and stay awake for me."

One hand finds the wound and you feel a mixture of cold and warm blood, part sludge part liquid, spread across your palm as you lean down with all your body weight. His eyes bug out as he throws his head back and one of his hands grips weakly at your forearm. You ignore it as your other hand gropes at your belt for the basic first aid pouch. Eventually you draw out the wad of gauze and tear the plastic with your teeth just as two beams come bouncing to the backdoor.

"GCPD!" Banks voice hollers, the strengthening of the beam heralding his arrival.

"In here!" You call back. "Call a bus, now!"

The two men round the door fully, Costas muttering a curse and holstering as he runs inside to join you. Banks pulls his radio and speaks rapidly.

"Dispatch, I need an ambulance for Wayne Manor. Male, Mid-Thirties with a GSW to the torso, still awake. Code 3. 10-9?"

"Received, have you at Wayne Manor with a Male vic suffering a gunshot to the chest. 10-41 coming in loud and fast. Cause?"

"Officer involved 246, scene isn't secured yet. Divert additional units and..." Banks pauses and frowns in your direction. "Don't forget an RA."

As Banks speaks Costas slides next to you, pulling his light he flashes it in the suspect's eyes before huffing in frustration and whipping the cap off his head and tossing it aside. He mutters a few things to the suspect and manages to get a nod out of him, you press the gauze to the wound and Costas grasps your wrist before taking it from you.

"Move aside, DeLucia." He huffs, pushing you with the sharp point of his elbow.

"What!?"

"Nothing personal." He says, taking the gauze fully from you now and stuffing it into the wound, much to the suspect's agony. "Banks, come get DeLucia's gun."

"My gun?"

"Jesus Christ." Costa sighs. "You're a suspect! You shot this guy and until you're cleared by IA it's gotta be handled that way. Now get the fuck away from the victim and wait. Please."

His harsh words stun you but Banks hand on your shoulder shakes you out of the stupor. You glance down at your hand, shining and slick with blood, suddenly the scents all hit you at once. The burning acrid gunpowder and the sharp coppery tang of blood invade your nostrils. Your shooting hand buzzes faintly, going from the tips of your fingers to your elbow. You stand on weak knees and back up, the shift in perspective drawing your eye to something.

"What the... Banks, his hat." You point a bloodied finger.

"Huh? What abou-... the hell?" He murmurs as he notices the same thing. "Are these wires?"

He lifts the flat cap and thin wires connect to metal disks with some sort of adhesive pad. It brings back memories of your youth in the early days of trying to diagnose your Shivers. You reach out for the hat but Banks pulls it away.

"Uh sorry, but you're a bit..." He nods at your vitae soaked hand. "Also Costas wasn't wrong, book says we have to treat this like any other shooting."

You give your hand another look and let out a mirthless chuckle.

"Yeah... Yeah that makes sense." You state quietly. "You wanna?"

You shift your hip and lift your arm, letting Banks withdraw your pistol with two fingers. He drops it on a side table as he preps a few evidence bags. As he's dropping in your pistol you hear the clomping of Hawthorne running down the hall, his forehead glazed with perspiration. Pennyworth follows behind him steadily with a double barrel tucked politely beneath his arm, the break open and revealing the backs of two shells loaded within. Hawthorne glances at the man on the floor and then you. Relief hits his eyes before he blinks it away and straightens up still catching his breath.

"Holy shit... big fuckin house." He huffs. "This you, DeLucia?"

You nod somberly. Hawthorne notices the baggy with your weapon.

"What happened?"

"I don't think this guy is bad." You blurt out. "I mean, I don't think he was here of his own free will."

"What like someone put him up to it? Blackmailed him?"

"Or put this on him." Banks chimes in holding up the bag containing the hat. "See the wires?"

"Brainwashing? Or hypnosis?" Hawthorne mutters, taking the bag an examining the hat. "Look of these reminds me of what we found from those kidnappings a few years back... All those girls..."

"Hey!" Costas barks. "If you have his stuff secured do one of you wanna tag me out? Arm is getting tired holding pressure here."

Hawthorne tosses the bag back to Banks and steps forward.

"Outta the way pantywaist." He growls, leaning down and putting a massive hand over the wound. "I once gave CPR for twenty-three minutes before EMS showed up. Didn't hear a fuckin peep outta me on how my arms felt."

Costas stands up relieved, shaking his arm and grimacing at the blood on his hands and wrists, he glances to Pennyworth.

"I need to wash this stuff off, you got a spare bathroom?"

"Plenty." Pennyworth replies politely, stepping aside to allow Costas through.

Costas doesn't as much spare you a glance but you step up too.

"Yeah, I think I wanna-"

"Nope." Hawthorne grunts from the suspect. "No washing anything off. Not even a rag. Hear me?"

"Yes, sir.." You mumble.

"Banks, head out front and be ready to lead EMS through this maze of a house. See if you can't get Bunko on the horn and make sure he's off the street so they got clearance."

"Understood." Banks says firmly, taking all the bagged evidence as he jogs down the hallway leaving you alone with Hawthorne and the (maybe) innocent man you shot.

You stand in the hall almost dissociated. Everything feels so normal again. A split second of violence and then it all returns to another quiet winter night. The voices of Shivers a muted audience watching this show play out through your eyes. You glance at him and see his eyes just barely conscious... maybe he could answer a question? You know you wouldn't want to talk to the guy who shot you, so maybe this is your only chance... But it would definitely look bad to IA, but it's a clean shoot, so does that really matter? At the end of the day you know you're innocent and they'll know that too. Surely.

>Lean down to the man and ask him something... (What?)
>Stay away from the man, just focus on your own breathing and keep a straight head for the interview that's sure to come.
>Write-In

>>6322191
>Stay away from the man, just focus on your own breathing and keep a straight head for the interview that's sure to come.

>>6322191
>Stay away from the man, just focus on your own breathing and keep a straight head for the interview that's sure to come.

>>6322191
>Stay away from the man, just focus on your own breathing and keep a straight head for the interview that's sure to come.
Is shooting this guy going to be Mark's peak retard moment? I think we should lay off the lethals for a bit...

>>6322191

>Stay away from the man, just focus on your own breathing and keep a straight head for the interview that's sure to come.

>>6322242
>peak retard moment
All Mark knew was this guy was trespassing on private property, threw a brick at him, refused to comply with his orders, and then charged him. This is as clean a shoot as it will ever get, hypnotic headwear aside.

>>6322191
>Stay away from the man, just focus on your own breathing and keep a straight head for the interview that's sure to come.

>>6322242
I don't think it was a bad call, necessarily. We operated on what we knew at the time, and an imminent threat by a physically-imppsing dude smashing in, charging towards us even after a warning. I'm pretty sure this is in keeping with police procedure. Batman would disagree, but we aren't Batman -- we aren't a master of every martial art , wearing bat-themed body armor, or bound to his code. In this case he'd have been right to take another option, but even if we had, there's no guarantee we wouldn't have gotten our bell rung or worse. This guy was big and busting through windows. I am not a fan of cops, but even I'd have a hard time calling this unreasonable, and New ayork and New Jersey (I forget which state we're in for.this version of Gotham) explicitly bases their standards on reasonableness. Plus, thIs is GOATHAM... Remenber on Halloween, when the other cops were pretty sure they'd get away with shooting a fleeing druggie in the back of the head?

Mark will probably be pretty traumatized, though.

>>6322249
>>6322251
Well the best we can do is hope the guy survives getting shot as fine enough as he can be, and we get whoever mind controlled him into going after Wayne

>>6322262
Here's hoping, but IA shouldn't be a huge issue. He threw a brick at our head and charged.

>>6322264
Also on the note of IA, please God let us have our bodycam on for this one.

>>6322265
I dunno, it might not catch the brick... And the meta one-liner might not look great in context.

>>6322271
Even if it doesn't catch the brick, it'll catch the glass shattering. Beyond that, it'd be our word against his, which wouldn't count for much given that hat we secured as evidence.

>>6322265
Wayne manor’s got lots of bugs and cameras. If anything else, maybe Bruce’ll foot the legal bill.

>>6322395
I should hope he does given we did it on his behalf. And he better not be butthurt about Mark shooting a guy either.
We followed our training, same as him or any of his wards.

>>6322493
I mean, Alfred showed up with a shottie.

>>6322495
>I mean, Alfred showed up with a shottie.
And Master Bruce bitches and moans whenever this happens (which is generally when Alfred is proven right in keeping guns in the manor in the first place)

>>6322199
>>6322206
>>6322242
>>6322246
>>6322251

For some reason the only thing that floods your mind is protocol. Proper procedure states that you can't have any more contact with the victim, that you'll be taken in for an IA post-incident interview, and once your statement is taken you'll be on ice until they clear you. It's simple really... but you can't stop pacing. You can't stop watching the slow crawl of blood that pools away from his body. All the while the voices in your head are picking up in volume and blending until your thoughts sound like TV static with brief flashes of the confusion in his eyes as he hit the ground. Your breathing is getting shallow and ragged and you don't even notice until Hawthorne's voice cuts through the fog.

"Mark." He semi-shouts. Feels like this wasn't his first attempt.

You peel your eyes away from the crimson ooze and find yourself staring into a picture of absolute calm.

"Breathe." He tells you, the same tone as when he gives an order but calmer. "Breathe and go wait outside with Banks."

"Are you su-"

"Go. It'll do you a lot of favors to show em you're willing to cooperate. Makes you look better in their eyes." He speaks with pointed enunciation ensuring all of this gets through this daze.

You nod along with his words and start retreating, but freeze and ask one more question before you go.

"Is everything gonna be alright?"

"You'll be fine, son. I know you aren't the type to go firing off for no good reason, if you shot then it was because you had no other option."

"What?" You ask confused. "I wasn't asking about me, I was asking..."

You trail off with a nod towards the man and Hawthorne sighs.

"I'm not a surgeon. But it was through and through, bleeding is under control right now, and he might be out but he's still groaning and breathing... we just gotta see."

"Right. Just gotta see." You echo.

"Get out front and stand-by for your ride back to the station. I'll bring you some of that breakfast, alright?"

"Yes, sir." You mumble, turning on your heel and walking back through the house like it was a dream.

The next hour passes like smeared ink. Lights. Faces. Bank's voice droning on like he's speaking from the inside of a fish tank. You respond but you don't think of the replies, you don't think of anything, it's almost scary how your body manages to come up with answers to questions you never heard. To offer reassurances to doubts that never registered to you. The ambulance arrives with a small team of three men who hustle past you. Time slips by you again like loose sand between spread fingers and now you watch the doors slam shut, Hawthorne stands by speaking to some kind of superior as he towels away the crimson stain from his skin. You feel a hand on your shoulder that gently squeezes...

Then you blink.

You bounce around gently in the backseat of Costa's cruiser. The warm yellow lights of Gotham's street poles swim past like a calming strobe light.

Just beyond them you can see the moon, it's waning form half obscured by clouds as it produces it's own pale light. It brings you comfort for some reason. Then another voice rings out.

"You hear me?" It comes from the front seat.

"Huh? I'm sorry, what?" You reply with a shake of your head.

"I said we're almost there. Get ready to hop out. I'm reporting to Reiner, you're going to interrogation room one. Understood?"

"Yeah, I've been there before."

"Yeah well good, it'd be a bad time to get lost." He replies curtly.

The cruiser turns wide and pulls into the front lot of Precinct One. The lights cut off and he sighs before stepping out and around to open your door for you. You climb out and mumble a thanks as he throws the door closed behind you. Together you both head for the main doors.

"I gotta talk to Reiner and give him my statement about what I saw. Banks too."

"Sorry."

"For what?" He asks. "Part of the job, man."

You enter the lobby and the rush of warmed air doesn't fill you with that familiar feeling of security like it did before. Now it just make's your skin crawl as if you were freezing. Costas gives you another glance and a nod.

"Room One." He reminds you before striding off towards the pen himself.

You shuffle through the halls running everything back through your head. The rustle, the brick, the flying shards of glass, and it just plays on loop until you turn the door knob and open it to that sterile room. Fluorescent light buzzing and a familiar face on the opposite side of the table, his recorder already standing like an obelisk on the table.

"Detective Irons." You say through dry lips.

"Officer DeLucia." He replies warmly. "Take a seat for me."

You pull back the cheap metal folding chair and drop in. The metal bites the backs of your legs but you don't pay it any mind. That's how it's designed after all. You look up at him and can't help but notice over his shoulder how pale you seem. How heavy your eyes look. You break from your own gaze and nod to him.

"Are you IA's main detective or something?"

"One of a couple. They put out the feelers for someone to come in for this tonight on short notice and most detectives I know aren't fond of the night shift unless they're working a case."

"Are you? Fond of the night life, I mean." You say trying to feign a casual tone.

"I'm a night owl. I like to read." He replies simply. "And however much I wish this was a social visit, we have things to discuss."

"Yeah... I know."

"Are you ready to get to it then?" He asks, his hand hovering over the recorder. "No off the record this time, I'm afraid."

"I'm ready." You say without fully knowing if you mean it.

His hand descends another inch and the click of the recorder fills the compact space of the interrogation room. He clears his throat once and squares his shoulders as he looks you in the eye and asks simply:

>Officer DeLucia, explain tonight's incident in your own words for me.

>>6323413
>You pull back the cheap metal folding chair and drop in. The metal bites the backs of your legs but you don't pay it any mind. That's how it's designed after all.
Oh no are we in the DEATH CHAIR?
https://youtu.be/Z_MqK4rB_Js

>>6323413
>Officer DeLucia, explain tonight's incident in your own words for me.
Okay, effortposting time.

"Hawthorne and I were chatting,s coping out the house for possible means of entry, discussing procedures and other aspects of policing. Just TO and rookie stuff. We coordinated with Wayne's butler on some of it. Eventually we got a call fro Bunko about a suspicious vehicle parked facing the gates at the front, out of the street. A man in a... A fedora. A hat! Oh shit..."

"Anyway, so Bank also mentioned a coat tossed over the top of the fence... Probably it belonged to the, uh, guy I shot, since it matched his clothes. Not sure.We stayed put because we were the house team... My call, but Hawthorne greed it was the correct one. I delegated some instructions, for Bunko and Chen to check on the driver. Banks and Costa went looking for who threw the coat. Hawthrone and I split up the check the house's interior and exterior, which is when I heard the sound. I was checking the back and heard a noise, a rustling in he plants. I turned on a light, radioed Hawthorne to check on a sort of thumping upstairs, rhythmic. I radioed Hawthrone to check that, and stayed put."

"The man in he flat cap, the one I shot he, came out of the bushes, hurled a brick threw the window, right at me. I ducked and dived, to protect myself, and he came through the glass door he shattered and demanded to know where Bruce Wayne was. I saw he was big, bigger than me, seemed to be under the influence, and he looked strong. I told him I was GCPD and to drop to his knees and put his hands behind his head. He just kept going on about needing to find Bruce Wayne. I... I tried to intimidate him to stand down, warned him I was a meta. I figured that might spook him, make him reconsider. I warned him I'd shoot if he didn't stand down. Instead he hurled himself at me, full force, perfect form or next to it."

"I... I shot him. He looks confused after a shot him, asked me why I did it. He was scared, and confused. And... Afterwards, we ended up finding out about the wires in his hat. Hawthorne says GCPD's seen them before... Supervillain shit. I didn't know... I'm guessing there was similar stuff in the fedora on the driver, if we took him in?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. I... Just didn't see another way to stop him safely to protect myself and everyone. He looked too far-gone for a taser or spray to be reliable, and he was big, and fast. I hope he pulls through."

Not that we know if a taser or spray would even work on a Mad Hatter puppet, but the doctrine for lethal force in NY and NJ relies on knowledge at the time of the shooting, not discoveries thereafter. All we knew was he looked high, was big and strong, and he was determined and unresponsive to attempts to order or bluff him down, and he was after our VIP who has been targeted by supercriminals before.

>>6323481
+1

>>6323481
+1, let's get this show on the road

>>6323481
Supporting. I see nothing out of place with this summary of events.

>>6323413
Has Mark forgot again and just walked off with Alfred's shoes?

>>6323927
kek, I choose to believe so. Not like they would let him remove them until after evidence was collected, at the very least. They probably have blood on them.

>>6323481
>>6323757
>>6323790
>>6323792

"Alright... Hawthorne and I were chatting. Scoping out the house for means of entry and doing some training-"

Irons cuts you off with a raised hand.

"Sorry to interrupt officer. If we could keep your statement related strictly to the incident that resulted in the discharge of your weapon that would be appreciated. Unless of course this is relevant to your state of mind at the time of the shooting?"

"Understood, uh... a bit after that we got radio'd by Officer Bunko reporting a suspicious vehicle out on the main street near the gates. Driver wasn't ID'd but they were... wearing..." You trail off, the fog of fear giving way to that familiar turning as your brain tries to put something together.

"Officer DeLucia?" Irons prods. "I understand it's been a rough night on you but I need you to focus for me. This is important. Now Officer Bunko radio'd in a suspicious vehicle, what next?"

"Right, uh.. not long after that we got an additional call from the rear team, Officers Banks and Costas, reporting that they found a red track jacket strewn over the fence leading into the Wayne property. It was a red track jacket with white stripes, probably belongs to the guy I uh... That I..." Your mouth goes dry and Detective Irons steps in.

"No need for speculation at this time, please continue. What did Hawthorne do in response to the calls from your team?"

"Hawthorne has a particular method of teaching where he let's me make judgement calls on things like this. It was my suggestion that Bunko approach and get an ID on the driver while the rear team swept the outdoors for an intruder. Since Hawthorne and I were the house team I suggested that we split up and cover the two main entrances we had identified to the mansion; the front and back doors."

"And how did Sergeant Hawthorne respond to these suggestions?"

"Positively."

"So was it himself or you that gave the order over the radio?"

"Me, sir."

"Alright, so once you split up. That was when you encountered the suspect?"

"Yes sir, when I was by the back door I noticed a rustling in the leaves of the garden that surrounds the back patio. I turned on a light and around that time heard a thumping coming from the upstairs. Rhythmic. I radio'd to Hawthorne to check the sound and stayed put to see if I saw anything else outside."

"And you did."

"I did. The man in the flat cap, the suspect, came out of the bushes. He was armed with a brick which he threw through the glass of the backdoor forcing me to get out of the way for cover. He came through the hole and demanded to know where Bruce Wayne was. I noted he was larger than me, seemed to be under the influence, and he looked strong. I identified myself as GCPD, telling him to kneel and put his hands behind his head."

"And did you have your weapon drawn at this time?" Irons interrupts.

"No sir. The strap to my holster was unbuttoned and I had my hand on my weapon, but at the time, I hadn't drawn."

"Is there a reason for that?"

"I was hoping I could still resolve the incident without violence, or at least lethal force."

"I see. Did you, at any point, attempt the use of your less-than-lethal equipment."

You swallow and shake your head.

"Out loud please, for the recorder."

"No, sir."

"Was this due to a lack of equipment? Meaning, did the GCPD fail to issue you with less-than-lethal means or otherwise provide you with faulty equipment?"

"No, sir."

"Would you like to offer your reasoning for not making an attempt with the less than lethal tools available to you?"

"Yes, sir. He looked too far-gone for a taser or spray to be reliable, the hat he was wearing could have easily blocked my ability to reach his eyes with spray just by looking down slightly. As for my taser, my hand was already on my weapon due to our initial interaction being that he was armed."

"But at the time you decided to discharge your weapon he was unarmed, on account of him throwing his weapon to gain entry to the house."

"Yes, sir. However he was continuing to advance on me and I couldn't be positive he was completely without weapons on his person. Simply put... I didn't believe I had time."

"Alright." He speaks simply and jots a few things down before looking back up with that mask of neutrality. "So you hadn't yet drawn your weapon and he didn't respond to your identification. Please go on."

"After I informed him I was GCPD I received no response. The suspect continued to advance through the doorway while mumbling about Bruce Wayne. I tried to spook him after that..."

"Spook him?"

"I... I tried to intimidate him into standing down. I informed him I was a meta-human and told him that I would shoot him if he didn't comply with my orders, I thought it might give him second thoughts or rattle him. Instead he hurled himself at me, full force, perfect form or next to it."

"And that's when you decided to discharge your weapon?"

"Yes, sir. I drew and fired a single shot at center mass, just like I was trained. He froze, clutched the wound, hit the wall, and slid down."

"I see. Now you stated you fired in accordance with your training. But the distance from that glass door to where you were standing was what? Ten feet? Fifteen at the most?"

"I don't know, sir."

"You'd agree it was close, though?"

"Yes."

"Yet you managed to clear your holster and put a shot center mass before he reached you. That's impressive. Is this a skill you've practiced or a matter of natural talent?"

"Practice, sir. I've put in time at the range working on shortening my draw."

"Very wild west of you, Officer. Any particular reason?"

"I wanted to be ready to react to anything, even if it happened fast. I wanted to be faster."

"I see, let's move past that for now. Isn't it true the GCPD academy teaches it's cadets to fire until the threat is neutralized. Now you also stated earlier you believed he may have been under the effects of drugs?"

"Yes, sir?"

"And you weren't concerned a single shot wouldn't be enough to stop a potentially intoxicated man who was..." He glances down at his notepad. " Quote: 'larger than you' and 'looked strong'?"

"I don't... I didn't..." You pause for a moment and collect your thoughts. Irons waits patiently. "After I fired the initial shot I paused to see my effect on target before committing to firing more rounds. I didn't want to risk friendly fire on a missed shot or pass through in-case the rear team came up behind him."

"And after you struck the suspect? Did he say anything or do anything?"

"Yes, he asked why I shot him. He seemed genuinely confused and his eyes didn't have the same blown out pupils and glaze that led me to believe he was under the influence. He seemed... scared."

A few more seconds of jotting and Irons nods to himself as he slaps down a period and looks back up to you.

"Officer DeLucia, are you confident that your decision to use lethal force was in line with the department's guidelines and policies?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you believe the suspect had intent to cause you injury or worse? Or do you believe he was trying to get past you to Bruce Wayne? If the second case is found to be true, does this change how you view the shooting?"

"Despite his words being centered around Mr. Wayne, he had his eyes on me the entire time. I was along the wall of the hallway after avoiding the brick and his path was leading towards me, not down the center of the hall."

"And if he was trying to reach Mr. Wayne and was set on ignoring you?"

"Doesn't change anything in my opinion, sir. Our assignment was to protect the VIP."

"Do you believe you accomplished that?"

"Yes, sir." You answer firmly.

He scrawls a few more things down and then looks up to you before straightening in his chair.

"Officer DeLucia, this investigation comes with the risk of administrative or disciplinary action if evidence comes to light that disputes or contradicts your statements today. The same is true if it is found that your use of force was excessive as defined by GCPD policy. In the event of either of these occurrences you'll be removed from your position and may face criminal or civil charges. Do you understand?"

"Yes..."

"With that acknowledgement, I only have one more question to ask at this time: We understand that law enforcement is a field with rapidly developing situations and demands swift judgement calls in the heat of the moment... Looking back on the situation, a few hours removed from it, would you have made a different decision?"

>"No, sir. I acted within my training and within policy. I’d make the same call again."
>"I know I did the right thing, but it doesn't make me feel any better about it. Especially since I don't think he was acting under his own will."
>"I wish I had tried my taser, it may not have worked and could have resulted in a scuffle but at the same time there wouldn't be a man potentially losing his life because of my actions."
>"I don't believe I made a decision, sir. He came at me and my training kicked in."
>Write-In

>Any additional comments before Detective Irons formally ends the interview?


Feel free to let me know how you guys felt about this segment, The Shooting and this Follow-up. I wanted to avoid making it feel dry and use it as an attempt to build out Mark's internal sense of self a bit more. Put his values and logic, as determined by a lot of your choices, on display here for you. Curious to hear your thoughts.

Also: >>6323927

Yes. Yes he has.

>>6324004
>"I know I did the right thing, but it doesn't make me feel any better about it. Especially since I don't think he was acting under his own will."
I don't want to try and brush off our role in shooting a man, nor do I want to pretend like making a bet on unreliable methods is something any sane man would do. Doesn't really feel like something Mark would say in either case.
To that end, I think it'd make sense for Mark to express remorse and shock based on the immediate aftermath and revelations of the shooting. Watching a guy crumple because you put a hole in him sticks with you, same as realizing he wasn't even in control of himself when you did it.

>>6324004
>>"I know I did the right thing, but it doesn't make me feel any better about it. Especially since I don't think he was acting under his own will."

I want to say something about the hat but I don't think it is good to tell it to IA as while it might be relevant to another investigation it probably will seem like DeLucia trying to bluster and cover a mistake.

>>6324004
>"I know I did the right thing, but it doesn't make me feel any better about it. Especially since I don't think he was acting under his own will."
>"Regardless, I'm fully aware that I have to be held to account at some point, legally, personally... and possibly morally."
With the fairly recent revelation that demons actually exist, I think it'd make sense that Mark'll be thinking about what the big G might say regarding this. After all, Catholicism is big on guilt.

>>6324054
+1
Next time let's just go for the tazer

>>6324004
>"No, sir. I acted within my training and within policy. I’d make the same call again."

>>6324054
+1 to this Catholic concern. But also, as I said before, we did what we could with the knowledge we had at the time.

>>6324004

>>6324009
>>6324032
>>6324054
>>6324075
>>6324250

"I know I did the right thing... but it doesn't make me feel any better about it. Especially since I don't think he was acting under his own will."

Irons remains silent, you can see him studying you while his fingers lightly drum on his notepad. Eventually he nods his head and jots one final bit down before flipping the pad closed.

"Well, it may not be much but there's similar sentiment being shared by the other officers involved in the incident. Banks, Costas, and Hawthorne have all given statements sharing the same theory. Trust that we'll be looking into it, thoroughly." He rises from his seat and you raise a hand.

"Sorry, sir. I just wanted to know if there was any word on the..." You wrestle with 'suspect' or 'victim'. Thankfully Irons covers for you.

"Mr. Papeti."

"Mr. Papeti." You echo. "Is he alright?"

"He's at the hospital, they're doing the best they can. As soon as we know more, we'll let you know." He notes your fallen face and leans over the table slightly. "Listen, you said you know you did the right thing. Even if the worse comes to pass for Mr. Papeti, that's just how the job goes sometimes. You can do everything right and then find out it was still wrong later, you just gotta remind yourself that you acted on what you knew. Not what you know now."

"Maybe, regardless I'm fully aware I have to be held accountable at some point. Whether legally, personally, or... morally."

Irons pauses at this, digging in his pocket for a moment before look back to you.

"Are you a religious man, Officer DeLucia?"

"Catholic."

"Every sunday?"

"When I was growing up. Now I just try to make it when I can, do mass on the holidays."

"These situations are difficult, even if use of force is justified, especially for newer officers. Consider talking to your priest." He hands over a small business card. "Or you can call our in-house counselor. GCPD foots the bill for any active officers who make use of her services. You can thank Mayor Dent for that."

You don't take the card. Instead just looking at it.

"Active officers." You repeat. "Isn't there a chance I won't be one by the end of this?"

"All the reason to go sooner rather than later." He says, setting the card on the table and tapping it. "Besides, have some faith. If everything you told me is true, I'm sure this'll be cleared up in no time."

He steps around the table to retrieve a large paper bag that was tucked in the corner behind you. He sets it on the table and pulls out a few sets of extra large evidence bags and then a set of cellophaned GCPD gym clothes, the usual sweatshirt and sweatpants.

"Now I'm gonna give you some privacy, I need you to fully undress and transfer your clothes into the bags. We'll do the usual tests for GSR or any other foreign substances and then get em back to you freshly laundered." He offers a cordial smile and extends a hand. "I wanna thank you for answering all our questions despite the stress of the night."

"It's important to get a statement while it's still fresh in the mind." You say accepting his handshake, though half-heartedly.

"Grey was right, you're a sponge." He nods to the bag again. "Clothes and shoes. Knock when you're all set."

He steps out of the room, leaving you alone in a stillness that makes your stomach lurch. You work with mechanical stiffness as you undress. Light tinkling sounds by your feet as you untuck the uniform shirt and a handful of tiny glass shards scatter across the floor. Looking down at them you notice a small smudge of blood on your shoe, only... that isn't your shoe.

"Fuck's sake..." You groan, staring down as Pennyworth's formerly pure white house shoes.

Nothing to be done about it now, into the bag they go along with everything else. You finish changing and pick up the bag before giving the door two firm knocks. Another officer opens the door and makes off with the bag, but just beyond him you see a familiar face.

"Grey." You smile weakly.

"Mark." He returns, giving you an up and down. "You doing alright?"

"Not really." You say honestly. "Only thing keeping me from really coming unglued is that he might end up surviving."

"Hawthorne gave me the details. It'll be alright."

"Shouldn't assume." You offer weakly with a chuckle.

"Yeah..." He replies simply.

You both trail off into an awkward silence, you avoid Grey's eyes and he shifts from foot to foot.

"You wanna... you wanna go sit down and talk about it?"

>"I was actually planning on going to church, maybe do confession or just talk to a priest. "
>"Yeah actually. I'm sure you've been through something like this before, right?"
>"Detective Irons actually gave me a card, says the number is 24/7 so I was gonna give that a shot."
>"Thanks, Grey. But I wanna be alone right now, was gonna go sit in my car and... just sit with it for a second I guess. Take some space to get my head straight."
>Write-In

>>6324610
>"I was actually planning on going to church, maybe do confession or just talk to a priest. "
Aside from the possibly killing a guy thing, we also have a lot of other stuff to talk about. Demons are real, so are wizards. The City of Gotham manifests in our head as a lady. We're maybe spiritually tied to a serial killer, and/or an alien? It's a lot.

>>6324610
>"I was actually planning on going to church, maybe do confession or just talk to a priest. "

>>6324610
>"I was actually planning on going to church, maybe do confession or just talk to a priest."
No better time to get closer to God, now that we know demons are real and likely walking among us.

>>6324610
>"Yeah actually. I'm sure you've been through something like this before, right?"
Confession is best for when we’ve had a chance to reflect and get our thoughts in order. For a good Catholic it’s not just about saying sorry and seeking forgiveness, it’s about making an effort to grow from our mistakes and overcome them. I think Grey’s advice would do us more good at the moment.

>>6324610
>"Yeah actually. I'm sure you've been through something like this before, right?"

>>6324669
+1

>>6324610
>>"Detective Irons actually gave me a card, says the number is 24/7 so I was gonna give that a shot."
Is Harley Quinn a counselor still?

Man, what a culmination to the night.
Now, Mad Hatter wouldn't go for Wayne out of the blue, I'm damn sure. Bruce is neither blond nor a 12 year old girl. So, I guess it's that time of the year where we blame everything on Calc. Anarky going for Bruce made sense, Scarecrow helping Anarky is weird, and Mad Hatter out of all people going for Wayne after Anarky failed is a pretty clear giveaway of a larger plot. Calc is running out of "naturally motivated" villians to send.

Firebug was naturally motivated to attack Dent for example, just needed a little nudge, but now he's in jail. Who's gonna be next? I sure hope Calc isn't rich enough to afford Deadshot or god help us all Deathstroke. But yeah, he's getting less subtle. Apparently he *really* needs Wayne gone. Or maybe just threatened? Hatter is a sloppy guy to hire if you're planning murder.

>>6324883
Doubt it. The quest is late on batman timeline. She might be in arkham, or task force x, or sleeping on poison ivy's couch, but she most likely isn't a doctor anymore.

>>6324954
Tetch's tech is often commissioned or co-opted by other villains because it's surprisingly good, right?

>>6324954
>Doubt it. The quest is late on batman timeline. She might be in arkham, or task force x, or sleeping on poison ivy's couch, but she most likely isn't a doctor anymore.
But it's a pretty distinct timeline, since Zsasz, Two-face, and Firebug all just got started, and Bats is JLA but doesn't yet know about Darkseid.

Tie vote between speaking with God and speaking with Grey. Settled with a coin flip.

1. Church
2. Grey

Update soon to follow the result.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Nothing happened...
Shitty fucking website removing my options field

>>6324669
>>6324697
>>6324737

You consider the church for a moment. There's so much you want to get off your chest from the past weeks.. fuck it, the past few MONTHS. Demons, wizards, the fact you may have a sort of spiritual avatar of the city in your head. But there was something your grandfather made clear to you growing up, confession wasn't about clearing your conscience and it wasn't always even about guidance or advice from the church.

"I told the men I served with the same thing, each and every one of them." He said to you after Easter Mass. "Before we left to come back home I told them to sit with me and do confession. It didn't matter I was with them when it happened. That I knew. That I offered advice in the moment. Confession for them wasn't about taking the burden off their souls, it was about making a promise to God. A vow that before they got home they'd lay down the weight they carried and that they'd be more than what war and necessity had made of them. They'd be men again. Fathers and sons. Men, not soldiers."

Looking at Grey now you can see some of your Nonno in his eyes. That same kind of worldliness he seemed to have. You smile slightly and nod.

"Yeah actually. I'm sure you've been through something like this before, right?"

"Seen it a time or two. Only ever went through it once." He glances around the bullpen, more than once Officer giving you the side eye. "Let's chat somewhere private."

"I got a place." You reply.

The damp smell of mildew, sweat, and rusted metal is almost comforting as you open the door to Kimble's makeshift PT clinic. Your socked feet gently depressing the thin foam mat he put down. You settle onto a half deflated yoga ball that forms around you like a bowl while Grey groans into a squat over the end of a weight bench.

"Gotta start with askin. How're you handling this?" Grey begins.

"Poorly." You answer honestly. "I can't stop myself from thinking about if he doesn't make it."

"He's in surgery. From what I've heard it was a clean through and through shot, he might have better luck than you think."

"From what you've heard? Seems like fucking everyone already knows about this." You groan.

"Word travels fast. Especially when it concerns Bruce Wayne, most of the department is out there waiting to see if more goons show up."

"Most of the department, not just our precinct? Bit much ain't it?"

"I've been passing along the theories we've been putting together. Guess this lit a fire under everyone's ass, gave Gordon enough reason to authorize a full on task-force to finally crack down on this Calc fella."

"Fucking Calc." You mutter. "Using people... innocent people. Making us..."

You trail off and rub your eyes. They sting with fatigue and the dark behind your eyelids is so comforting you almost struggle to open them again. When you do, Grey is leaning forward with elbows on his knees.

"I gotta ask, Mark. Because it's a possibility, much as I hope it doesn't come to pass, if that fella you shot ends up dying. What are you gonna do?"

"I'm gonna feel like shit. Like a murderer." You answer quietly, honestly.

"I figured that's how you'd FEEL but I'm asking what you're gonna DO?"

You cock a brow at him and he sighs.

"That's the problem with being young. Look, whatever happens? It happens. He lives, he dies. None of it changes the fact that you're gonna have to keep coming into work every day. Gonna have to put on your belt and carry that same pistol on your hip."

Your blood runs cold and you feel a jolt of electricity in your gut.

"And eventually... You're gonna be put in a bad situation again. Someone is gonna be on the bad end of your gun and you might have to do it again. Go through this again. It's easy to say 'it's part of the job' but it's another entirely to go through it. But the first step is to stop wallowing in the past and the present, think about your future. You hear?"

"I hear..."

"Then tell me, if this fella dies... What are you gonna do?"

>"I'm gonna find the sick bastard who put that hat on him and put him away. I'm gonna make it right."
>"I'm gonna train harder than before... less than lethal tactics, de-escalation strategies... I'll make it so I don't end up in that position again."
>"Get right with God. If it ends up going that way, that's my first concern. Only way I could move past it."
>"Maybe push to get into a position that's less likely to make me the trigger-man? Join the guys in Community Engagement to help people another way."
>"I'd learn about him, if he has any family... I'd keep an eye on them. Try to make up for it, if that's even possible."
>Write-In

>>6325134
>"I'm gonna train harder than before... less than lethal tactics, de-escalation strategies... I'll make it so I don't end up in that position again."
This is something a LOT of officers don't even bother with, as I'm sure you all know. It's hard to stay in shape, man-handle suspects, and put your trust in less than reliable methods of pacification.
Obviously there's a time and a place to take a shot like we did, but even in Gotham, the vast majority of criminals are not hypnotized patsies or super villains. I feel like we have something of a responsibility to try and get them under control without putting holes in them.
I wonder if there's a Judo place somewhere nearby. I think it would pair very well with his base as an amateur wrestler, not to mention the technical grappling and conditioning involved would go a long way towards evening out any weight disparities in the future.

>>6325134
>"I'm gonna train harder than before... less than lethal tactics, de-escalation strategies... I'll make it so I don't end up in that position again."

JUDO CHOP!

>>6325134
>"I'm gonna train harder than before... less than lethal tactics, de-escalation strategies... I'll make it so I don't end up in that position again."
And regardless if he pulls through or not…
>"I'm gonna find the sick bastard who put that hat on him and put him away. I'm gonna make it right."
>”I mean, I’m going to do that last one whether or not he pulls through. Being human means God let us make our own choices for ourselves, good or ill, dumb or wise. Calc taking that right away from someone makes me absolutely furious on a fundamental level.”

>>6325150
By the same token, we aren't a superhero. It isn't unlikely we'll still run into big, strong, fast, possibly armed or metahuman people making attempts on our lives or the lives of others. Less-than-lethal is ideal when possible, but what Grey is asking is what we're going to do next time that isn't an option. Next time we have to shoot center mass. How we'll cope.

>>6325134
>"I'm gonna find the sick bastard who put that hat on him and put him away. I'm gonna make it right."
I vote we cope by being damn good at our job.

>>6325134
>"I'm gonna find the sick bastard who put that hat on him and put him away. I'm gonna make it right."
What >>6325193 said. This is how to cope, not how to change things because some things cannot and can never be changed by us

>>6325134
>"I'm gonna find the sick bastard who put that hat on him and put him away. I'm gonna make it right."

>>6325170
I mean, we literally just recovered from a mini coma.
We're still a bit unsure of our physical capabilities. Can always ask question/nightwing about developing better skills.

>>6325236
I mean, we're already training with Kimble for the moment. Why not ask him?
He seems to be pretty physically oriented in how he handles things, so I imagine he'd be able to point us in the right direction if we wanted to explore deeper less-than-lethal training.

>>6325134
>>"Get right with God. If it ends up going that way, that's my first concern. Only way I could move past it."
>>"I'm gonna find the sick bastard who put that hat on him and put him away. I'm gonna make it right."
In that order

>>6325193
Problem with the “Find the Sicko” choice for me is, we were gonna do that anyway. I was using the vote to say I’d like to have Mark learn more melee skills for combat.

>>6325134
>>"Get right with God. If it ends up going that way, that's my first concern. Only way I could move past it."

>>6325150
>>6325167
>>6325170
>>6325193
>>6325207
>>6325228
>>6325238

"I'd start with finding the sick bastard who put that hat on him and put him away... I'd make it right. He took a man's free will, Grey. God's greatest gift to us... the ability to choose your own path, good or ill, dumb or wise. Someone taking that away, for what, for a pile of money? Makes me sick."

"Turn down the gas on that flame." Grey says lightly. "Anger is a good motivator but it clouds your judgement. We're gonna catch this guy anyways, I swear it, but will that help?"

"What?"

"Will that help you?" He reiterates. "The next time you have to draw on someone. Shoot them?"

Your mouth goes dry. Your mouth moves but nothing comes out except a frustrated sigh.

"Train." You say with certainty. "I'm gonna train harder than before... less than lethal tactics, de-escalation strategies... I'll make it so I don't end up in that position again."

"That's good... but Mark. You're not gonna make it through your career without being brought to the line, the next time it might not be as clear cut as it was this time."

"Clear cut!?"

"Yes." He says firmly, his voice shaking you from that bubbling tide of shock. "A big man chucking a brick at your head and bursting through broken glass to get at you is as clear cut as it gets. Mind controlled or not."

"But he was innocent, it's not the same as shooting Firebug or if I had to shoot SIM."

"Our job doesn't revolve around those crazies. Nobody is having a moral struggle with shooting Killer Croc of all things, Mark. But what about that gas station robber?"

"Who?"

"Your first day. The one who put buckshot into Banks' vest. I read the report as soon as I found out Hawthorne was involved, I read what your report. That you could feel his fear. You knew he was doing this because he was desperate and over his head. Used that to get him to surrender. But what if he didn't?"

You find yourself mimicking a beached trout once again. Grey's eyes are hard but you see a sadness behind them. He doesn't want to be the one to bring this harsh truth down on your head. But someone has to.

"I'd shoot him." You finally say. "Center mass, like trained. That's why I shot Papeti. Instinct and training."

"And you'd be in the same situation you're in now. Same guilt, same questions. You're never gonna make peace with it. Never even gonna make peace with the idea of it." His voice takes on a different tone, one that's almost reflective. "You gotta make sense of it. Of WHY you pulled that trigger. To know that you didn't pull the trigger for the wrong reasons. It wasn't wrath or fear. It was to protect someone else, in service of someone else, only done because you had to."

It clicks for you, at least, the idea starts to set roots as you sit on his words.

"So what do I do? Just tell myself that every day?"

"Remember when you tried explaining your Shivers to us? What was it you said; 'It's like a radio with a wonky signal.'?"

You nod.

"Same goes for things like this. All those fucked up thoughts, all the self doubt, replaying to see if there was an angle you didn't consider. It's just static on the radio. You did what you had to do because if you didn't, someone would get hurt. That's the truth. The knob'll drift every now and again, but you just have to tune back into that truth and the noise'll dissipate around it."

"You're sure?"

"It's the best I got for you. It isn't something you're 'telling yourself' either. It's a fact and all facts take time to be memorized. But eventually you won't have to remind yourself. You'll just know."

You lean back, letting your back rest against a stack of crumbled boxes filled with old extension cords and power strips. It feels like a California king to you right now. You hadn't realized just how tired you were despite the extended naps in the car and your apartment. Grey's not looking too much better himself, you notice he's still wearing the same shirt.

"You didn't work tonight did you?"

"Nope." He says simply.

"Then why are you here?" You ask, partially knowing the answer.

"Someone had to look out for you." He says simply. "Hawthorne's only ever regretted shots he didn't take and Kimble would probably try to feed you on some 'blood makes the grass grow' non-sense."

You chuckle despite yourself, your eyelids heavy.

"That's marines, not army."

"He's made that clear." Grey chuckles back. "You gonna be alright, son?"

>"Yeah, what you said... it actually helped a lot. Thanks Grey, you think they'll care if I get some sleep down here?"
>"Yeah, yeah I think I will." (Lie)
>"I don't know. I won't know until we find out if Mr. Papeti pulls through. But if he doesn't? I think I'll be able to manage."
>"Not until we get the guy behind this all, you gotta promise me that if you get a solid lead on Calc or the guy with the hats. You'll let me in the loop."
>Write-In

>>6325621
>"Yeah, what you said... it actually helped a lot. Thanks Grey, you think they'll care if I get some sleep down here?"
I'm sure Ms. Gotham probably wants to chat with us for a minute too.

>>6325621
>"I don't know. I won't know until we find out if Mr. Papeti pulls through. But if he doesn't? I think I'll be able to manage."

>>6325621
>>"I don't know. I won't know until we find out if Mr. Papeti pulls through. But if he doesn't? I think I'll be able to manage."

>>6325621
>"Yeah, what you said... it actually helped a lot. Thanks Grey, you think they'll care if I get some sleep down here?"
"It isn't something you're 'telling yourself' either. It's a fact and all facts take time to be memorized. But eventually you won't have to remind yourself. You'll just know." is a powerful line in my opinion because it's true in real life too.

>>6325621
>"Yeah, what you said... it actually helped a lot. Thanks Grey, you think they'll care if I get some sleep down here?"

>>6325621
>"Yeah, what you said... it actually helped a lot. Thanks Grey, you think they'll care if I get some sleep down here?"
Good scene, QM.

>>6325624
>>6325698
>>6325727
>>6325854

"Yeah, what you said... it actually helped a lot." You sigh and lean further into the boxes creasing around you. "You think they'll care if I get some sleep down here?"

Grey smiles warmly and you see his shoulders shift a fraction of an inch as he drops a subtle tension.

"I think you'll get away with it." He says as he stands to his feet with a groan. "As for me, I think I'd prefer a bed."

"You sure? There's more boxes."

"You've got a young man's spine, Mark. Cherish it while you can."

"I'll do that." You mumble as you let your eyes close.

Grey chuckles at the sight of you and your makeshift nest, shaking his head as he heads for the door.

"I'll talk to you in the morning, Mark. Sleep well, buddy."

"Yessir..." You slur as the adrenaline crash drags you off to a deep slumber.

The last thing you remember is the sound of the door clicking closed...

And then there was music. The familiar chords of the piano that build into crescendo only to ease into melodious "...Sulle'eco del concerto..."

The warm light of afternoon washes over the porch of your grandfather's house. Despite his move to America there was a few things he was insistent upon. Not least of which was his 'spot'. He sits on a familiar old bench affixed to chains, letting it swing gently, his fingers picking at a small piece of citrus. You stand in the doorway, letting the music drift both past you and through the open window that sits next to nonno's bench.

"Buonasera, soldatino." He says without looking up, flicking away a piece of peel into his garden bed.

"Ciao nonno" you reply quietly.

"You can do better than that." He chides gently in his accented voice.

"Posso avere un'arancia?" You say back unsteadily.

"Molto bene!" He says with a wide grin, he pats the spot on the bench next to him. "But not an orange. Clementine."

You hop onto the bench, the chains rattle slightly, your legs dangling as he pushes off and sets you on a gentle swing. He pulls the tiny citrus apart and hands you a segment.

"Grazie." You mutter before biting into the sweet fruit, it's juice refreshing and the flesh soft.

"What are you two getting up to?" Another voice comes from the door, your father. "Mark, we don't leave the front door open, remember?"

"Sorry, dad..."

He steps out and closes the door behind him, dropping onto the bench to sandwich you between him and nonno. He raises a brow and nonno passes him his own clementine from the mesh bag he keeps tucked against the armrest.

"Grazie." He says before picking at it himself. "Alice is almost done cooking dinner, so let's not get stuffed on fruit."

"No need to tell me about temperance, Mario." Your grandfather chuckles, flicking another piece of skin into the mulch. "I've talked very much on the subject."

"You ever bring up the time Ma caught you three sheets to the wind on Nocello in those sermons?" He prods back.

"To err is human. Besides, it was my son's wedding."

"That it was, that bottle was also a gift for your son's wedding. You and I shared one shot and then you whisked the rest of the bottle away."

"You didn't even like it."

"Cercare il pelo nell’uovo." Your grandfather responds.

A moment passes and both of them begin to laugh, rattling the chains above as your father sighs and cocks an ear.

"Speaking of the wedding, I didn't even realize you were listening to this." He says with the glint of memory in his eye. "Allie give you this record?"

"No, è stata tua madre." Grandfather replies.

"Nonna got it?" You ask quietly.

"Oh! Mark's Italian is getting pretty good." Your dad chirps, giving you a pat on the head. "I didn't know that either, Pop. Ma wasn't big into records like you are."

"True. But it was the song you danced to at your wedding, mio figlio. It is special."

"That it is." Your father replies with nostalgia laced in his voice. "Wonder what she's thinking to herself now, looking down at three generations of DeLucia, sitting on a swing, munching on clementines."

"Hmm. She'd probably say: 'Perchè non aiuti in cucina, culo pigro.'" Your grandfather laughs.

"Ass in the kitchen?" You say back confused.

"Pop!?" Your father nervously peeks over his shoulder through the window. "You're teaching him swears?"

"He is old enough to speak like a man, at his age I was watching Michael Schirru face the firing line!"

"This ain't the old country anymore, come on. Whaddya think Allie would do if she heard him talking like that?"

Your grandfather's moustache twitches and he reluctantly answers.

"She would... uh come si dice? Box his ears."

"If he were lucky." Your dad tacks on. "And you'd get it worse."

"This is true." He replies steadily.

The song drifting through the window dies out and the crackling of vinyl static replaces it. It reminds you of something he told you only a few months prior. A voice whispers in your ear and you echo it.

"He who sings prays twice." You repeat almost absent-mindedly.

Your father arches a brow and glances up to nonno.

"You love your sayings, Pop. Teach him more of those and less of the other stuff, eh?" He leans down to you and taps your shoulder. "Why don't you go inside and switch the record out, Mark? Then help your mother set the table. I gotta talk to your nonno alone for a second."

You nod meekly and hop up from the bench, letting your feet drop heavily on the porch. As you approach the door you hear your grandfather speaking low.

"Did you hear back from them?"

"Yeah, I did. Good news is..." He watches until you let the door click behind you, but his voice still carries through the open window. You can't resist listening in closely. "The good news is that they weren't bullshittin us. It really is free."

"Mario... I don't know about this. Anything free-"

"Costs more than you can pay. I know, Pop. But we're already in that spot anyways. They're some of the only people willing to look into this who aren't gonna cost us an arm and a leg."

"Non lo so, figliolo..." Your Grandfather wanes. "This place, is it the place for a child?"

"Thought he was a man?"

"He is at the age he can SPEAK like a man. There is big difference."

"We'll be careful, Pop. Keep an eye out for anything shady, I just want my boy to be able to sleep at night. I want him to be able to go to school for more than a few months at a time before the voices start telling him his teacher's husband is cheating or showing him visions of all sorts of non-sense." He sighs, outside your view your grandfather puts a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I just want him to be able to have a normal life, Pop."

"I know, figliolo... I know." He comforts. "Being a father is not easy. But you do a good job of it. Mark, he is a good boy. Kind, even if he shares your temper."

"OUR temper." Your father corrects. "I just don't wanna mess him up and right now the people giving us the best shot are the people at Arkham..."

You blink.

The industrial lights of the basement leave your vision blurred as you lean up from a pile of crushed cardboard and feel a tight knot in your lower back squeeze panfully.

"Wha?" You groan as you lift a hand to block the light.

"Mark." A familiar voice calls out.

"Wakey wakey, slick." A gruffer voice calls.

"Hawthorne?" You mumble.

"And company." He says, stepping into the room trailed by Grey. "We come with some good news."

"Yeah? Was last night all just a dream?" You grunt as you grasp his hand and he yanks you to your feet where you wobble for a moment.

"Not quite." Grey chimes in. "But the surgery was a success. He pulled through and woke up a few hours ago."

That news snaps you awake.

"He made it?"

"He made it." Grey confirms.

"What about the investigation? Has he talked to anyone yet? Has he given his statement? Did he say i-"

"Stop." Hawthorne says firmly holding up a hand. "He wasn't in the shape to answer questions, woke up around seven this morning awfully confused why he was handcuffed to the bed."

"Current opinion of IA is that this is the work of Jervis Tetch, goes by Mad Hatter." Grey offers.

"Hatter? Jervis?" You repeat.

"Stupid fuckin name." Hawthorne spits. "Freak we picked up years back, serial kidnapping cases all over the city. Over ten girls between thirteen and sixteen, real sick sack of shit. Was apart of the last break-out."

"So what's that mean for me?"

"We don't know yet, but we were told to pass something along to you." Grey says. "The victim, Mr. Papeti, he says he wants to talk to you if you'd be willing to visit Gotham General. But Irons would be there with you, anything you guys talked about would be considered in your case."

>"Who cares about Irons, can we go now?"
>"I don't think that's the best idea. I don't wanna mess anything up or give IA any ammo against me."
>"I'm not gonna visit him until he's given a statement and IA clears me up, once that's done I'd be glad to meet him.
>Write-In


Song from the dream: https://youtu.be/grDlxUTKQt8

>>6327059
>"And you decided to just wake me up to tell me, instead of chucking my unconscious ass in the trunk and driving me there when you got the news? Let's go!"

>>6327063
+1

>>6327059
Beautiful scene there, QM.

>>6327063
+1 for this

>>6327063
+1!

>>6327063
+1

>>6327063
>>6327093
>>6327128
>>6327155
>>6327159

You clamber up from the boxes, sending a few of them tumbling while the rest slowly decompress from your removed weight.

"And you decided to just wake me up to tell me, instead of chucking my unconscious ass in the trunk and driving me there when you got the news? Let's go!"

"Told ya." Hawthorne says with an elbow to Grey's side. "Get dressed kid."

You look down at your outfit and back up to him with a raised brow.

"You need your uniform since IA is going to be there." Grey clarifies. "It also means you need to watch yourself since it's official. Means anything you two talk about could be used against you by IA or his lawyers."

"Means don't go in there blubbering." Hawthorne tacks on. "You say sorry at any point and that IA chump is gonna take it as an admission of guilt or the perp is gonna have some slick talking lawyer make the same argument."

"Hey, I know that IA Chump." Grey huffs back. "Irons is a good detective."

"Good detectives do their job. His job is to find a way to hem Mark up so if the other fella brings charges against the department, our coffers are safe and Mark's strung up like Nana's laundry."

"He survived, guys. That's what's most important." You remind them.

They both grumble an agreeance but you still see the concern in how Hawthorne torques his jaw. Regardless, a quick stop in the locker room nets you a shower and a fresh uniform. It's only when you reach for your duty belt and grasp at open air that you're reminded: you aren't out of the woods yet. You shut it firmly and take a deep breath before heading through the pen, ignoring the pitying glances and scarce whisper. Bunko makes eye contact and offers you a shallow nod as you make your way out front and into Grey's sedan.

=====

Anesthetic and nitrile gloves. Two scents that are as ingrained in your brain as your dad's cologne or mother's perfume. It smells like home in a way that makes your stomach twist or maybe that's just Hawthorne's words playing back in your head as he signs a form authorizing you to visit Mr. Papeti, under IA supervision. You feel a cold finger sliding down your spine as that whisper tickles the shell of your ear again.

"Almost time for tea... Clock is ticking."

You flinch and rub the palm of your hand against the offended ear, rubbing away the tickle traveling down your canal. The voice isn't quite the Red Lady, more like a choir of differing pitches and accents that still only come through as a whisper. You ignore it for now as you step into the room and see a familiar face that's drawn tight with fatigue and deathly pale.

"Mr. Papeti, I'm not sure if you recognize him but this is Officer DeLucia." Irons speaks from a chair set off against a window, his leg crossed and that silver recorder in his hand.

"Familiar but... I don't remember him really." Papeti says weakly, his throat sounding like dust and sandpaper. "Fuck. Everything is still all smeared."

"It's alright, the doctor said this was likely gonna happen. Does seeing him bring back anything at all?"

"Getting shot." He says right as his pulse spikes.

Your stomach draws in on itself as you awkwardly shuffle.

"Are you sure you can handle this?" Irons asks gently.

"I gotta." He insists. "I told you."

Irons simply nods and looks to you, beckoning you towards the bed with one hand while the other clicks on the recorder.

"Officer DeLucia, at the request of Luca Papeti you've been asked to come down. He has something he would like to say to you and has insisted it be a matter of record for both our own internal organization and any potential legal proceedings he may bring at a later date. You may proceed, sir."

"Officer." Papeti groans. "What's your name, your first name?"

"It's Mark, sir." You offer.

"Mark." He raises a weak arm towards you on the bed towards you and points. "You."

You swallow once.

"Thank you... for saving me."

It's like cold water in your face. Your old loose jaw returns as the only thing you can manage is:

"What?"

"You saved me." He repeats. "From being a fuckin... slave or something. Stopped me from hurting anybody. The pain from getting shot, it woke me up, then you guys got the hat off and I was me again."

His extended hand opens, inviting a handshake, he looks at you and forces most of a smile.

"Thanks for not unloading on me."

You grasp his clammy hand and give it a delicate shake.

"I'm so-" You cut yourself off, clearing your throat. "Ahem, I wish it hadn't come down to shooting you at all, sir."

"Me too, but you didn't know."

"Mr. Papeti, I believe I can take this as confirmation you have no plans on pursuing legal action against the GCPD or Officer DeLucia personally?" Irons interjects.

"That's right."

"In that case." Irons says, standing from his seat and clicking his recorder off. "I believe there's nothing else for me to do here. I'll enter your statement and see that Officer DeLucia here can get back to work."

"Just like that?" You ask, stunned.

"Just like that." Irons confirms.

"Aye wait, I'm pretty tired but, I thought you were gonna take my statement?" Papeti says.

"Sorry, Mr. Papeti, I was assigned to the internal investigation of Officer DeLucia. Thankfully it seems the detective assigned to this case is already here." He strides across the room and opens the door. "Grey? He's ready for you."

Hawthorne enters first, all but ignoring the man, while Grey follows in and gives Irons a tight handshake and a grin.

"Appreciate ya, Brent."

"Just doing my job." He replies simply. "Good luck, hope you catch this Hatter."

"That's the plan."

"Officer." Irons calls to you one last time as he's half out the door. "You're reinstated to full status as of this moment, I'll have your uniform and belt waiting on your desk when you return. Good luck to you too."

"Thank you, sir." You say quietly.

He gives you a thumbs up and vanishes, letting the hydraulics of the door his softly as it closes.

"You cover taking statements yet? This is a good time to learn."

You take them and glance to Hawthorne. He nods once.

You clear your throat and turn to Papeti preparing your questions.

"Can we start with when you believe you were put under this... hypnosis?"

"I was doing my morning jog, I hit Robinson Park every day, when I got flagged down by this lady. She was trying to hawk me that hat."

"Lady? Can you describe her?"

"Eh.. kinda? She was white and short... She uh..." He trails off, his face almost a grimace of pain. "Jesus man, I'm sorry I can't... the more I try to remember the blurrier it gets."

"Did you see her face? An estimate on age?"

"I'm sorry I don't remember... her face it was covered by this big floppy hat like a gardening hat or something?"

"A bonnet?" Grey asks.

"I don't know..." He groans, his pulse spikes again.

"Hey it's alright." You assure him. "We're gonna figure it out together, I only have a few more questions..."

=Choose as many as you'd like, but know that Papeti is weak right now and can only answer a few questions before needing to rest again, additionally some questions have potential to be more upsetting than others. If picking multiple votes then order them from what you want to ask most to least.=

>"Do you remember if the hypnosis was instant? Or did it require a command or phrase?"
>"You said you remember her hat, do you remember anything else about her outfit?"
>"Was anyone nearby when this happened? A vendor or a busker? Someone else we could talk to?"
>"Do you you have any connections, friends, family, maybe your work? Things that could make you a target?"
>"How's your short term memory? Do you remember everything that's gone on since you woke up?"
>"When you think about the woman does she seem familiar to you? Had you ever seen her before you met in the park?"
>"Do you have any memory from your time while under? Anything at all?"
>"Do you recall ever hearing a... a voice in your head? Feminine?"
>"Does the name Kal Quincy Late mean anything to you?"
>"Does the name Mandragora mean anything to you?"
>"Do you have a grudge against Bruce Wayne or Wayne Enterprises?"
>"I notice you're still cuffed on one side, was this at the doctor's direction or do you still not feel totally in control of yourself?"
>Write-in

>>6327645
>"Was anyone nearby when this happened? A vendor or a busker? Someone else we could talk to?"
>"When you think about the woman does she seem familiar to you? Had you ever seen her before you met in the park?"
>"I notice you're still cuffed on one side, was this at the doctor's direction or do you still not feel totally in control of yourself?"

>>6327645
>(to Hawthorne) “Wasn’t it an older lady that offered a hat to the Mayor that time we were guarding him? Was Tetch still locked up during that?”
>"How's your short term memory? Do you remember everything that's gone on since you woke up?"
>"When you think about the woman does she seem familiar to you? Had you ever seen her before you met in the park?"
>"Was anyone nearby when this happened? A vendor or a busker? Someone else we could talk to?"

>>6327645

>"Was anyone nearby when this happened? A vendor or a busker? Someone else we could talk to?"
>"When you think about the woman does she seem familiar to you? Had you ever seen her before you met in the park?"
>"Do you remember if the hypnosis was instant? Or did it require a command or phrase?"

>>6327689
>>(to Hawthorne) “Wasn’t it an older lady that offered a hat to the Mayor that time we were guarding him? Was Tetch still locked up during that?”

>>(to Hawthorne) “Wasn’t it an older lady that offered a hat to the Mayor that time we were guarding him? Was Tetch still locked up during that?”
No fucking way. He'd notice the wires and stuff

>>6327645
>"Was anyone nearby when this happened? A vendor or a busker? Someone else we could talk to?"
Most important is getting the lead first
>"When you think about the woman does she seem familiar to you? Had you ever seen her before you met in the park?"
Context second
>"Do you remember if the hypnosis was instant? Or did it require a command or phrase?"
Triggers third
>(to Hawthorne) “Wasn’t it an older lady that offered a hat to the Mayor that time we were guarding him? Was Tetch still locked up during that?”
It's too good not to bring this up here. Just as an aside

>>6327689
+1
But do the Hawthorn question last.

Mechanics of hypnosis aren't that important I believe. Plus it's probably an "upsetting" question.
Same about the woman's outfit. White and short, she's probably the new alice. Time to look for disappearance cases.
I don't think that guy was targeted, just nabbed at random.
No way hatter told this guy about Kalc or anything important really.
>>6327645
>>"Do you have a grudge against Bruce Wayne or Wayne Enterprises? Not because we doubt the hypnosis, because we want to know if it's easier to hypnotise people who already have a grudge."
>>"At what date were you kidnapped?"
>>"Was anyone nearby when this happened? A vendor or a busker? Someone else we could talk to?"
>>"Do you remember anything from your time under hypnosis? Even a visual description of a street you walked? Or a car you enetered?"
Most head-hurty question for last.

If I were Tetch, I'd just work on that guy in some random ass apartment or inside a van. Then again, Tetch is crazy as fuck, he might have actually taken our vic to have tea. Good thing we're not in charge of the decision making on the eventual breach of his hideout. Like do you gun down hypnotised people in rabbit masks or do you send cops in non-lethal riot gear and hope that the henchmen aren't packing heat? Only in gotham type shit.
It's a cold lead we have, but you gotta start somewhere. I wonder if the databse guys found the car with half the license plate Banks got.

>>6327645
Changing my vote in >>6327710 from
>"Do you remember if the hypnosis was instant? Or did it require a command or phrase?"
to
>"At what date were you kidnapped?"
Because it feels like an easy question that can be answered with minimal fuss, and because I agree with >>6327719 about asking hypnosis mechanics being "upsetting"

>>6327719
>do you gun down hypnotised people in rabbit masks or do you send cops in non-lethal riot gear and hope that the henchmen aren't packing heat? Only in gotham type shit.
He did say "The pain from getting shot, it woke me up, then you guys got the hat off and I was me again." I assume if pain is the thing to snap them out of it, then maybe painful nonlethals such as tear gas are what works? With the hats in the way, I think Mark's assessment is right and pepper spray is riskier to attempt. I don't know how tazing might affect the person if the mindcontrol hat is also tech itself; I don't wanna fry a puppeted victim's brain by accident trying to down them.

>>6327719
>if the databse guys found the car with half the license plate Banks got.
OH YEAH THAT CAR WITH THE DRIVER ALSO WEARING A HAT
That's another lead on top of the big guy Papeti here being hatted in the park. I think we'll have plenty to go on with what we're getting from this case.

Oh shit… We can ask our weed slinging informant if he’s seen the hat lady at his park!

>>6327725
Good thinking, anon!

>>6327705
>>6327689
Holy fuck, you're right.

>>6327645
I'll +1 these: >>6327719
When we get out of the room, we should bring up our informant and that lady with the hat at the mayoral meet-n-greet though.