"Yes Ma'am."

"Regarding?" She asks you pulling up a phone, it's spiral plastic cord twisting around her index finger.

"Uh..it's confidential?" You offer.

Her eyebrows knit together in a very clear display of: Are you kidding?

Hawthorne leans in and smiles with all the charm of an old mobster.

"Listen Deb.. this is a sensitive matter. The lobby is full of people and we just don't need anyone else getting involved in our business."

"Well my business is making sure nobody gets their time wasted."

Hawthorne grumbles and pulls out his phone, he taps the screen a few times and turns it around.

Her eyes shift downwards and her mouth goes agape ever so slightly.

"You have a reservation at La quête?"

"I know a guy." Hawthorne offers, his voice weary. "I have a reservation for the same time every year. Check the date."

"How!?" She gasps.

"I know a guy." He repeats. "Grey already offers you a bite to eat so why not have him take you somewhere nice? One of the best steaks in Gotham, a glass of wine, Christmas Eve. Tell Gordon that Hawthorne and his Rookie are here to see him. Tell him I said it's important."

You lean forward and tap Hawthorne's shoulder, he holds up a finger, he leans back and you whisper into his ear as he nods. He turns back around and adds: "Tell him we're trying to put a leash on smoke."

Deb's look is confused but she can't stop the glancing down. Surely without anymore words her finger hooks inside the rotary circle and she dials. You're almost impressed by how new this phone looks despite being clearly out-dated. She relays your message verbatim and then takes a slip of paper and begins jotting.

"Mhm.. Yup." She says absent mindedly, her eyes sometimes pulling from the paper to check the phone as if it might run away. She writes one last thing and then underlines it harshly. She hangs the phone on it's receiver and puts the note in her pocket. She turns her eyes to Hawthorne and through a smug smile says:

"The Commissioner is ready to see you, up the stairs and take a right. His is the office at the end of the hall."

"Thanks, Deb. This reservation is yours, you have my word."

"I know, Mitch. I know." She waves a hand as she leans back into her seat and pulls her book back up.

Hawthorne turns to you and once again you feel something just from his gaze, something inside, a piercing almost tearing pain in your chest. Faint and pin-point small but still enough to cause discomfort.

"Ready?" He asks you after a heavy breath.

"It's go time." You reply firmly.

You both head up the marble stairs, reach the landing, and begin the long walk to Gordon's office...

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[Conversation Attitude]
>Gordon is your last hope, you need to make that clear to him. No matter what the cost of his help is you need to accept it.
>Gordon is your last hope, but you can't let him see you flailing in the wind after he just put confidence in you before the sting. Downplay the severity but really push for his help.
>Gordon is a cop, this is about catching bad guys. Appeal to this sense of brotherhood and push for him to help you as one cop to another.
>Tell Gordon everything because at the end of the day, even if you're working with Vigilantes, who is he to lecture you? His work with Batman is the same thing, a greater good, if he refuses to help you he's just a hypocrite.
>Write-In

>General

>Verbatim

=====

Explanations as well as Previous Thread Links and some general chatter below:

I wanted to repost the last update because I didn't realize we were so close to page 10 and it got archived while I was sleeping. I also got three votes before the archiving that I will hold on to (feel free to repost your vote if you wish for a (You) but I do have them regardless.)

Catch up on previous threads here: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=DetectQM

Thread Image includes a cut-out from a very talented Anon's artwork. If you see this, please feel free to plug anything you have! Other than the centerpiece I set up the rest of the image, let me know how you all like it.

Included as usual is a short list of your abilities as well. Sorry for the sudden cut off with the previous thread, I'll do better with keeping an eye on where the thread is.

I'm going to leave this vote open and do another post today (Friday) since it will be a long one again. I want to make sure anyone who wants to contribute gets the chance to do so.

File: 1718662471920910.webm (2.64 MB, 1280x720)

2.64 MB WEBM

>>6041202
>Gordon is your last hope, but you can't let him see you flailing in the wind after he just put confidence in you before the sting. Downplay the severity but really push for his help.
Stand up straight. We decided to go to him and keep official instead of simply getting the files ourselves. If we can safely stay official over cloak-and-dagger, we do. That means something.
Also have this webm

>>6041202
>Gordon is your last hope, you need to make that clear to him. No matter what the cost of his help is you need to accept it.

>>6041202
>Gordon is your last hope, but you can't let him see you flailing in the wind after he just put confidence in you before the sting. Downplay the severity but really push for his help.

>>6041202
>Gordon is a cop, this is about catching bad guys. Appeal to this sense of brotherhood and push for him to help you as one cop to another.

>>6041202
>Gordon is your last hope, but you can't let him see you flailing in the wind after he just put confidence in you before the sting. Downplay the severity but really push for his help.

>>6041202
>Gordon is your last hope, you need to make that clear to him. No matter what the cost of his help is you need to accept it.

>>6041202
Appealing to the Thin Blue Lien won't work on Gordon, or in situation about investigating other cops.

I'm inclined to go with
>>Tell Gordon everything because at the end of the day, even if you're working with Vigilantes, who is he to lecture you? His work with Batman is the same thing, a greater good, if he refuses to help you he's just a hypocrite.
but since that has little support, I'll instead go:
>>Gordon is your last hope, but you can't let him see you flailing in the wind after he just put confidence in you before the sting. Downplay the severity but really push for his help.

>>6041202
>>Gordon is your last hope, but you can't let him see you flailing in the wind after he just put confidence in you before the sting. Downplay the severity but really push for his help.
Approach gordon as if we still have a backup plan. maybe he likes batman because of how many contingency plans he has

>>6041202
>Tell Gordon everything because at the end of the day, even if you're working with Vigilantes, who is he to lecture you? His work with Batman is the same thing, a greater good, if he refuses to help you he's just a hypocrite.

>Last hope
>>6041343
>>6041427


>Confidently Downplay:
>>6041354
>>6041395
>>6041548
>>6041602
>>6041333


>Esprit De Corps:
>>6041368
+1 From Previous Thread with a Write-in


>Hippo-Crate:
>>6041776
+1 From Previous Thread

I have the votes, I'm going to take a little bit to get this written up and posted (eventually) but it will be posted before Sunday. See you soon.

>>6042031
qm are you alive

>>6042792
Yes, I just had a very not good day. I'm sorry for the delay. Thankfully it's over now.

You take a deep breath as you reach for the door handles, you get a grip on your nerves and hold tight, you won't let Gordon see you flailing. You have a plan, or at least you need to present as if you do. But you won't lie, you need Gordon to know he has your trust. You turn the knobs and step into his office.

The dying light of Gotham filters through his window, his desk lamp illuminates the rest of the dim office, you notice folders litter his desk with contents neatly tucked away. But the rest of the office is far from tidy with filing cabinets half open and a collection of open books and dirty coffee mugs.

"Sergeant." He offers to Hawthorne from behind his desk. "If you're wearing your nametag it'll be the second time your name's been read in this office."

Hawthorne folds his hands and his posture straightens.
"I figured you'd seen the report."

"You'd be right, and what a mess of a report. We're either dealing with a rogue officer or someone has access to our uniforms. Neither is a pleasing thought. So forgive me if I'm a little terse, we're between a rock and a hard place."

"We understand, sir." You chime in, adopting Hawthorne's stance.

"I'd hope so."

Removing his glasses Gordon stands from his desk and gestures to a set of old wooden chairs. You and Hawthorne oblige and take a seat as Gordon wipes the lenes with his tie. Without the thick black frames it was hard not to notice the shadows around his eyes and the depths they'd sunk. He replaces his glasses and nods to you. The floor is yours.

"We're bringing this to you because there's nobody better in all of Gotham, nobody we can trust half as much, and even fewer who would know the right thing to do."

His brows raise and you see a rapt attention in his eyes.

"As commissioner all of Gotham is under your watch, sir, so we felt it should be your call over anyone else's."

"Get it out, son." Gordon probes gently. You decide to lay it out.

"We have information on a Mole within the GCPD. Information I received off the clock from an anonymous source."

"Anonymous source?" Gordon echoes.

"I'm willing to vouch for him, Jim." Hawthorne cuts in. "Anything he tells you, I'll back it up. Provided it isn't bullshit."

Gordon holds Hawthorne's stare for a good few seconds before shifting his eyes back to you.

"What'd your source tell you?"

"Mandragora has a mole within the GCPD looking out for the interests of his associates, the other leaders involved in the Lounge Sting, and feeding him information on rivals and Officers. Including myself, I believe."

"Anonymous source?" Gordon echoes.

"I'm willing to vouch for him, Jim." Hawthorne cuts in. "Anything he tells you, I'll back it up. Provided it isn't bullshit."

Gordon holds Hawthorne's stare for a good few seconds before shifting his eyes back to you.

"What'd your source tell you?"

"Mandragora has a mole within the GCPD looking out for the interests of his associates, the other leaders involved in the Lounge Sting, and feeding him information on rivals and Officers. Including myself, I believe."

"And the information you received?"

"A quote. 'La Russie ne boude pas; elle se recueille' it's a quote by Andrew-"

"Gorchakov." He finishes. His fingers tug thoughtfully at his moustache. "Your source has this information how?"

"It's inside baseball, Jim." Hawthorne says quietly. "A tight lid."

Your eyes flicker to him but you just let the moment hang. Gordon needs to think you've already vetted this through. He sits on the edge of his desk and extends a warning finger.

"Remember who you're speaking to, Sergeant."

Hawthorne straightens his psoture once more. Saying nothing else. Gordon continues.

"Let's say I'm following you on this, your anonymous inside source, did they provide any proof?"

You remain silent, but keep your face straight.

"Tell me you've at least got a loose string to pull on?" Gordon insists.

You swallow hard, you didn't want to bring this up if you didn't have to.

"He was directing a junior officer into doing off-the-book assignments, under the guise of a 'test' for joining UC, upon learning about this I pressed the junior officer for details."

"Did you keep any record of your investigation?"

"No sir.." You reply quietly.

"You're sharp for a rookie and have some good instincts on you. But you still have a lot to learn." Gordon sighs. "Go on."

"He was directed to covertly obtain files from GCPD Store Rooms, provide intelligence on assorted individuals and in their final meeting he was requested to make contact with someone, a woman by the name of Helena Bertinelli, and lead her to a room within the Old Gotham Hotel. He denied this assignment and walked away."

"Yet never reported it?" Gordon asks.

Again you simply keep silent and try to hold his gaze. Gordon sighs and stands up.

"Is this officer willing to come forward? Testify to what he saw, heard, and did? Can he corroborate your accounting?"

"I believe so, sir."

"You believe so?"

"I'd have to speak with him, sir. But I believe he'll agree. He's a good cop."

Gordon sighs again, heavier this time, fom deeper in his chest.
"I wish you had done this through proper channels, Officer DeLucia."

He paces the space between his desk and the wall, you go to speak again but Hawthorne holds out a hand. You follow his suggestion and remain quiet.

"But I'm not going to pretend this doesn't exist just because it wasn't handed to me by your Commander. Going forward however, I would urge you to trust in the chain of command that I've set up." He gathers up a file as he sits back down, opening it he plucks out an empty form of some sort that he begins to fill in. "However, just because I have my own suspicions doesn't mean I can act on hearsay."

He hands the sheet out to you and you pick it up, you're shocked by the familiar text, it's a Confidential Informant sheet.
"A CI Contract?"

"Only way to keep his identity sealed completely, it'll be between Harvey and I if he's brought on as a personal CI. I might be Commisioner but I'm still a cop."

"So he'll be anonymous for as long as possible."

"Which won't be forever, we both know. We also know even a dirty cop has the right to face their accuser, word will spread fast, and dirty or not the fact they would even turn in an officer is going to cause a rift. If you get your witness to agree to this, then it'll be proof enough for me they're serious."

"And then?"

"Then we go from there, I'm not promising anything. Putting away dirty cops is more than just putting the cuffs on them, it also means months of reviewing every case they got their fingers on."

"I understand, sir. I'll bring this to him and convince him to sign on."

Gordon folds his hands and nods.
"Anything else?"

"Yes, sir. One thing actually."

Hawthorne steps forward and holds up a hand.
"Sir, this request should come from me. If I may."

"I'm listening, Sergeant."

"It's regarding the assault this morning."

"Your assault?" Gordon inquires, just as much correcting as he is asking.

Hawthorne's face tightens and he nods.
"Yes, sir. I was going to ask you for permission to view inter-precinct records."

"I'm assuming you want to see all Traffic Officers who were assigned to the event this morning?"

"Yes, sir." Hawthorne repeats.

"Is there a name you're expecting to see in there, Sergeant? Is this mole problem deeper than one man?"

"I don't know, but I feel like if I can just get my hands on that book and look at the names.."

"You'd get a gut feeling?"

"Something like that, sir. That and even without a gut feeling, we can work faster than IA."

"Is that so?"

"Be honest, how long out was their estimation for an investigation on this? A month? Two?"

Now it was Gordon's turn to be silent. His eyes now dark and thoughtful as he ran some unknown calculation in his head, his breathing steady and deep.

"If I hand a file over to you, I'll be breaking the chain of command as well, I'll be taking this out of the Mayor's hands. The GCPD will once again be investigating itself for corruption, the very opposite of what the Mayor and I agreed upon when we restructured Internal Affairs.."

He lifts his eyes from his desk and holds them firm and intense on Hawthorne.
"I'd be going out on a ledge for you both if I were to give you that information. If it came to light I circumvented the very system I helped create.. it would put the mayor in a position where he has to stand by his campaign and fire me. Or he'd be viewed as weak for keeping someone openly flaunting his rules in office."

"Politics are a dirty game." Hawthorne comments.

"But you need to play if you want to change anything. As proud as I am of this system we've built, it isn't perfect." Gordon looks away from Hawthorne and to you. "If you get these names and your investigation pulls no leads, it ends there."

"Yes, sir."

"But more than that, if your investigation becomes public, I can't be your safety net. I'd see to it that no criminal charges were brought onto either of you. But your careers would be finished."

"Jim, you can't-"

"Commissioner, Sergeant. And this is not an order, it's a test of faith, I need to know you're both serious about this. If you're willing to put your jobs on the line the inter-precinct list is yours for however long your investigation lasts. I know it's hypocritical, but we have to keep in mind the bigger picture."

You feel your jaw twitch slightly and swallow drly. You exchange glances with Hawthorne and he nods to you, solid and firm, forever the stoic.

"I'm in if the kid's in."

You look back to Gordon and he raises an eyebrow, sliding forward a file.
"Are you willing to put your job on the line, Officer?"

>"Yes, sir. I'm confident this investigation will bare fruit."
>"Yes sir, don't worry. I'll be sure this is kept under wraps."
>"No, sir. But not because of lacking confidence in our case. I failed to consider the position this could put you in, I can't risk the department's reputation on a hunch."
>"No, sir. Our intel on the mole is more solid and I have reason to think these two could be connected. We'll focus on the mole."
>"This isn't fair, sir. We came to you because we figured if anyone would understand needing to go through red tape it would be you."
>"How is this any different than working with our 'mutual friend'? What is he putting on the line to make you trust him so much?"
>Write-In

Apology for the late post, been dealing with some stuff recently, we should be fine for a normal week going forward. As always let me know what you think of the big dialogue wall.

>>6042933
>"Can I speak with Sergeant Hawthorne about this outside, for a moment?"
We have a brain tumor and not a lot to lose. Hawthorne, though... What if he loses his pension? How are his savings?

>>6042928
Sorry to hear it, QM. I'm glad to hear that the worst is seemingly behind you, though.

>>6043027
+1
A late answer is not a bad one

>>6042933
>>"Yes sir, don't worry. I'll be sure this is kept under wraps."

>>6042933
>"How is this any different than working with our 'mutual friend'? What is he putting on the line to make you trust him so much?"

>>6043027
That doesn't need to be an aside. That can be done right here. We can be the entire shield given our possible predicament.

>>6043243
That's not a bad idea, actually. We can take the full heat. It's our idea, and our Shivers.

>>6042933
>"Yes, sir. I'm confident this investigation will bare fruit."

At least he can always have the Justice League as a fallback. If the tumor doesn’t kill him.

>>6042933
>"Yes, sir. I'm confident this investigation will bare fruit."
In for a penny, in for a pound.

>>6043359
Maybe Batman is still willing to hire Mark to be his personal Gotham-whisperer.

>>6043027
>>6043030
>>6043119
>>6043243
>>6043259
>>6043359

"Yes sir, I'm confident that this investigation will bear fruit and stay under wraps."

"Then we never talked about this." Gordon says extending a file. You reach for it but something nags at you, pulling on an invisible string in your mind.

"Do you mind if I speak with Sergeant Hawthorne about this for a moment?"

Gordon's eyebrows arch in surprise but you notice a flicker of a smile at the corner of his mouth.
"Take all the time you need, Officer."

As Gordon leans back and busies himself with some paperwork as you walk a confused Hawthorne to a corner.

"Are you sure about this, sir?"

"Of course I am, what are you talking about?"

"I'm just saying, it's a big risk for you, your pension could be withheld. Your reputation in the department would be-"

"Worth jack if I back away from catching the bad guy because it could inconvenience me. As far as the future let me make something clear to you, since it seems like you've already written yours off, nobody knows shit about the future."

"Sir, the doctor-"

"The Doctor doesn't know you. He's seen you on paper as organs, blood, and a nasty lump. But he doesn't see the things they can't test for: your grit, your gumption, your hutzpah!" He says the final word with a backhanded slap to your chest. His eyes have an unnerving certainty to them, pupils still as ice. "This mole fuck is already in cuffs he just can't feel em yet."

You swallow and can't help a slight smile from forming as you nod.
"Seems like you're sure."

"Damn straight. You won't shake me that easily."

He offers a weathered hand and you take it, shaking tightly. You turn from him and approach the desk as Gordon puts a large looping signature on a sheet of paper, he peeks at you over his frames and extends the folder once again. You take it without hesitation and pass it to Hawthorne. Gordon smiles and pushes another piece of paper forward.

"What's that?" Hawthorne asks.

"The official reason for your visit today." Gordon explains as he extends a pen out to Hawthorne. "As of.. 4:32pm, Sergeant Mitchell Hawthorne, you are officially reinstated as Training Officer for the remainder of Officer Mark DeLucia's field training program. Make sure your Commander gets that signed."

"Commissioner, are you sure? I mean I didn't-"

Gordon holds up a hand.
"If you two had any plans, this arrangement would be the most pain-free way of handling it. Sergeant you're responsible for letting Officer DeLucia's previous Training Officer know that he has been relieved of his duty."

"Yes, sir." Hawthorne replies, voice devoid of tone. You look to Gordon to see if he has more to say but his focus is now directly focused on the papers before him.

You feel a gentle hand guiding you towards the door, as you both exit the office Hawthorne closes the doors behind you softly. When it clicks you notice a slow exhale and his shoulders relax into their normal position.

>>6043604
(You) too
>>6043676

"Well that went about as well as it could have." Hawthorne says, looking down at the sheet of paper still in his hand. A messy M.H. scrawled on the bottom.

"I didn't think he would do that.." You mumble, feeling a seed of guilt take root in your chest. "Kimble was.." You let the sentence drift off as you continue trying to shake off the surprise.

"Kimble is a big boy. He's gonna understand, especially since you decided to trust him." Hawthorne looks around covertly as he speaks. "The real bitch of it is going to be taking this to the Commander."

"Really?"

Hawthorne sighs and starts off back up the hallway, your dueling footsteps the only sound in the near silent 2nd floor.
"You can't expect to take a shortcut and have other people not notice you ended up ahead of them, Rook. Nobody likes surprises, cops even less so."

"Makes sense.. I guess. Are we telling him together?"

"Day shift is about over, now." Hawthorne replies checking his watch. "He's been staying late recently and this event probably just locked him in for enough OT Hours to balloon our budget."

"So.."

"So he's going to be pissed." Hawthorne sighs as he takes the steps down.

"Do we have to deliver the paperwork today?"

"Sooner the better.. but it has been a bitch of a day. I suppose it could wait until the morning, at the latest."

"That sounds good, it feels like I've been on the clock 24/7 for the past week." As you speak you feel your legs tighten and ache, almost like the pain was just waiting for a verbal reminder.

"No better time for a drink, I say. Drop me at the station and get home, get out of the monkey suit and get a hot shower, and when Mendez brings my car back I'll pop over."

"My place?"

"You feel like sitting in a bar with a bunch of strangers right now? Cause I don't. I'll bring a sixxer and we can go over the file."

"All work and no play-" You grunt as you push the front doors of city hall open.

"Makes your TO very happy." He says slapping the file into your chest. "If you have other plans, I'll just keep the sixxer for myself."

"Why not share it with Mendez?" You tease. A grumble and a wave of the hand is the only reply as you both clamber into the car.

"I just figured.. if you didn't want to be alone." Hawthorne looks at you with guilty eyes. The tumor. Try as he might he can't avoid thinking about it. You wish you could too.

>"I could use a break, I need some sleep and just time alone to process everything. You understand, right?"
>"It'll be a change to actually invite someone into my apartment for once, but I'm game. Swing by and we can get into this."
>"Maybe we could take a break from the case tonight? Just sit around, talk shit, do something normal?"
>"I appreciate it, but I'm not a kid anymore. This medical stuff isn't as scary as you think, I'll be fine."
>"I would, but I promised Kimble a meeting with Q and H. Should probably handle that sooner rather than later."
>Write-in

>>6043685
>"Maybe we could take a break from the case tonight? Just sit around, talk shit, do something normal?"

>>6043702
+1
Let's recover from surviving a flamethrower dude and SIM again

>>6043685
>"I would, but I promised Kimble a meeting with Q and H. Should probably handle that sooner rather than later."

>>6043685
>"I would, but I promised Kimble a meeting with Q and H. Should probably handle that sooner rather than later."
>”That, and I should probably inform the odd couple about what’s been going on with me. They might have some ideas on alternative solutions to my tumor.”
>”I kinda admit, I’m wondering if Q might have got the diagnosis already.”

>>6043790
Supporting except for the alternate solutions thing
Do we really want to be in debt to some capes?

>>6043804
jJxlSZud here, posting from home.

There's a difference between hearing an offer and actually taking it, anon. Besides, we're feeling OK now, but if we start hallucinating while on duty, we might want to have more options.

>>6043790
supporting

>>6043790
>"Maybe we could take a break from the case tonight? Just sit around, talk shit, do something normal?"

>>6043702
>>6043769
>>6044170

>>6043781
>>6043790
>>6043804

Tied up so...why not both?

>>6044449
Sure

You smile appreciatively but it flickers quickly as your memory catches up to you.

"I would, but I promised Kimble a meeting with Q and H. Should probably handle that sooner rather than later. Plus I should probably talk to them about my.. yeah." You gesture vaguely to your head.

"I hear you." Hawthorne groans as he reclines your passenger seat.

"But how about after?"

"Huh?"

"I have something to take care of but I still want a break, maybe we just let the case lie for a night. Just sit around, talk shit, do something normal?"

"Normal." Hawthorne scoffs. "Sure, Rook. You have my number."

Hawthorne stretches and you hear a concerning amount of pops and clicks, each one accompanied by a satisfied groan. Some fishing in your backseat produces Hawthorne's dress cap which he lightly drapes over his eyes.

"I'm gonna catch some shut-eye, wake me when we get to the station."

"Yes, sir." You say quietly, appreciating the idea of some quiet time to think. You shift into drive and head out.

====

A quick drop-off later you set up a meet with your masked friends through text. You set it at the place you know best.

"Pizza Palace. 6. Emergency. Both." You keep it as barebones as possible just to be safe. A nearly identical message is sent to Kimble instead telling him '7'

That should give you enough time to have a private chat with Question and Huntress, as well as warn them that this meeting is of great importance. As you drive through the dimming streets that thought troubles you the most, Huntress and Question have been working in tandem with you, even if it was from the shadows, Huntress going as far as to shelter Bass Head for you. You find yourself worrying more and more about this meeting, about Kimble's opinion, even if you do everything right Grey still said he's going for them. Maybe you could convince him to walk away from it? Maybe..

A passing beam of light stirs you from your thoughts. You blink and check your phone. You've been sitting in a stupor behind the Pizza Palace for a while now, thinking back you don't even remember the road leading up to the familiar dumping grounds. A familiar beater is caressed by the thin mists of Gotham City, the door cracks open and you follow suit.

Question tosses out his usual greeting as the three of you stop in front of the dumpster, you can't help but notice the thick padlock now keeping it closed, Huntress gives you a silent nod. Your stomach churns.

"Officer."

"Q, Huntress."

"What's the emergency? I had to walk from the middle of dinner." Huntress asks, steeping forward.

"At six?"

"Turns out storing a brat where I'm staying comes with some schedule changes."

"Oh?"

You feel your own cheeks grow warm.
"You can have him back if you don't like it." She replies crossing her arms.

"No, no. Thank you.. I mean it. You didn't have to give him a place to stay and I really appreciate it."

You see her lips purse and eventually her stiff posture relaxes.

"Yeah well, you're lucky he's quiet, I couldn't handle two motor-mouths in my life."

She casts a glance aside and you follow her line of sight to Question, two thin prongs of metal inserted into the dumpster's padlock. Huntress scoffs and shakes her head but you feel something in your chest, a strange pang, almost like a skipped beat.

"Q, what are you doing?" You ask the back of his head.

"Freeing the truth."

"I thought you said you learned everything you could from this place?"

"It's the principle.." He mumbles as you hear a light click followed by the heavy lock dropping to the ground.

"Glad this is how you handle emergencies."

Question rises from his knee and tucks the small tool in an interior pocket of his coat.
"There's no emergency, Officer. In fact it seems you have everything handled."

"What? What do you mean by-" You pause and sigh. "How much do you know?"

"I know you seemed to gain the assistance of Commissioner Gordon, you left his office with a folder and an additional sheet of paper, the official reason was transferring the Sergeant to his old position as your Training Officer. However, that paperwork is mercifully simple. A single page. Meaning the file you also left with could have been a great majority of things. But I'd put my money on... the listing of all Traffic Officer assignments from this morning."

Your eyebrows move on their own in a state of surprise, Question proudly stands tall and tilts the tip of his cap forward.
"So am I, right?"

"Yeah.. how in the hell? Did you hack City Hall's computers? The CCTV? Bug Gordon's office?" You rattle off theories but each one i met with a shake of the head.

"I abhor the internet, CCTV goes both ways, and I have no reason to suspect the Commissioner in any foul play. I've heard a lot about him, he seems a lovely person."

"Then how?"

"I was there with you, trying to gain access to the file room."

"What? You broke into City Hall a couple HOURS after the mayor was attacked? Are you insane?"

"It was a simple process, nobody questions a fellow officer asking directions."

"A fellow Officer?" You narrow your eyes.

"Yes, speaking of I borrowed an outfit from your apartment. I'll have it dry cleaned."

"You were-" You take a pause and exhale slowly. "One: Stay out of my fucking apartment. Two: Did you at least find anything?"

"I have a list of the most likely suspects, pulled from the file room shortly after your departure. I haven't had the time to go over it yet, your text came through just as I was about to sit down."

"Well I can cut your search short maybe. Where does the Detective Gorchakov land on your list of suspects?"

He digs in his pocket and pulls out a small leather bound notebook, he flips through and pauses before snapping it shut.
"He's my second most likely."

"Second?"

"The custodian at Precinct 3 is hiding something, I just know it.." He says, smashing his fist into his gloved hand.

>>6044503
Q you motherfucker, i love your antics and hate them at the same time.

"Forget the janitor, Q. Focus on Gorchakov, I have a solid tip on him."

"What's your source?" Huntress asks.

You swallow.
"SIM."

She throws a hand up and looks to Question. Question's expression remains as impenetrable as ever, but his hand does creep up to his chin where he rubs it ponderously.

"You trust SIM to be telling you the truth, Officer?" He probes.

"I trust that the mole going down is just as beneficial to him as it is to me."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. He wants to be out from under the organizations thumb. But that doesn't mean I'm letting him get away with anything he's done. He'll pay for his crimes."

"I hope that means you plan on putting him in cuffs." Huntress interjects. "Y'know, upholding law and order, taking accountability. Yadda yadda."

"Yes. It doesn't mean I don't WANT to kill him sometimes. But it would be easy to make myself the one man court. But where would it end?"

She purses her lips and leans against the car.
"So why did you call us out here then? Because your mole hunt doesn't really involve me."

She spits those last words and you see Question angle his body away, it's the slightest tell, and you could be wrong but when a man doesn't have a face you make do.

"It's about Kimble."

"Your, now former, Training Officer?" Question asks.

"Yeah, I brought him in on everything. He knows about SIM, about Mandragora, and about you guys."

"I'll make sure to add him to my rolodex, so what? Honestly at this point it would be easier to list the police that don't know about us. I mean-" Huntress starts mockingly.

"Huntress.." Question says quietly.

"It's a little more complicated than that, he wants to meet you."

Huntress shakes her head.
"Then tell him to be at Jimmy's next week."

You look to Question but he just stands there silently, you can HEAR his mind racing and over your own sight of the alley ghostly illusions form. Hawthorne and Question's first stand-off. Sheets of paper flying by with bold text across the top 'DD-214'. You feel the edges of your face peel away and fresh alley air flooding over your cheeks.

You blink. Then you blink again. It's like living life through a slide-show. You watch Huntress and Question get further and further as a cold force presses against your back. You blink one final time.

Question stands before you with hands firmly placed on your shoulders. Huntress behind him watches you with a worried expression. You check over a shoulder and see your arm propped up on the car, your legs cramp and ache, as you open the driver door and sit down Question kneels next to you.

"Mark? What's going on?"

>"It can wait, in a few minutes Kimble is going to be here. He wants to meet you, unmasked, just like Hawthorne. But the stakes are higher, if he doesn't like you guys... when this is all over he's going to try and put charges on you."
>"Grey, the Detective from Jerry's, he's set on trying to charge Huntress with that murder at the Auto Yard. Hawthorne and I are against it but Kimble is on the fence. This meeting determines where he falls."
>"I think I might be dying.. This morning I was in the hospital and they found a mass in my brain. A tumor. My Shivers are acting on their own and I'm having trouble tuning it out. I need any help you guys might have."
>"I have a tumor in my brain. Doctor's were pretty vague but it doesn't sound good, this investigation is on a clock now. I'm going to need you both, soon. If I can't finish this case I need you both to step up."
>Write-In

P.S. We are confirmed for Hawthorne 1 on 1 time after this meet.

Long text segment means Author Notes: I really enjoy writing Question and I am oh so glad I picked him as the Token 'super' for this story instead of some others I had on the brain. I've also been spending a lot of time consuming new media. Books and Films mainly so if you've noticed any style changes recently my apologies lol. Always open to questions, comments, etc from you guys and I'll probably respond to you directly or in the next Author Note section I end up doing. Thanks for playing and I'll see you soon.

>>6044509
>>"I have a tumor in my brain. Doctor's were pretty vague but it doesn't sound good, this investigation is on a clock now. I'm going to need you both, soon. If I can't finish this case I need you both to step up."

>>6044509
>"It can wait, in a few minutes Kimble is going to be here. He wants to meet you, unmasked, just like Hawthorne. But the stakes are higher, if he doesn't like you guys... when this is all over he's going to try and put charges on you."

>>6044509
>"I have a tumor in my brain. Doctor's were pretty vague but it doesn't sound good, this investigation is on a clock now. I'm going to need you both, soon. If I can't finish this case I need you both to step up."
>”It sounds like it’s related to my Shivers… could be something that grew from using them, or maybe it gave me them in the first place.”

>>6044569
Supporting this and >"In a few minutes Kimble is going to be here. He wants to meet you, unmasked, just like Hawthorne. But the stakes are higher, if he doesn't like you guys... when this is all over he's going to try and put charges on you."

>>6044569
>>6044779
+1 to this combo.

>>6044509

>>6044569
>>6044779
+1 the combo

>>6044814
This is me, by the way.

>>6044569
>>6044536
>>6044546
>>6044779
>>6044814
>>6044930

You take some slow deep breaths, your leg muscles slowly easing, you look up to Question and bite the bullet.

"I have a tumor in my brain. Doctor's were pretty vague but it doesn't sound good, this investigation is on a clock now. I'm going to need you both, soon. If I can't finish this case I need you both to step up."

Huntress gasps gently and puts a hand to her mouth. Question simply looks down.

"It sounded like it was related to my Shivers.. could be something that grew from using them, or maybe it gave me them in the first place."

"I see." Question says simply.

"Yeah? Nothing about how I need to switch toothpastes? Or cut back on the screen time? Or.. uh.. or-"

A gloved hand grasps your shoulder and Question remains silent. You sigh and it drags into a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry, Mark." Question says quietly.

You clear your throat and nod. Tapping his hand to send it away. He obliges and you look to, where you hope, his eyes would be.

"That's not important right now, because in a few minutes Kimble is going to be here. He wants to meet you, unmasked, just like Hawthorne. But the stakes are higher, if he doesn't like you guys... when this is all over he's going to try and put charges on you."

"What!?" Huntress calls out. "Mark, what the hell?"

"Enough." Question says firmly, rising from his knee he brushes off his slacks as he removes his hat. "Go ahead and explain, Officer."

"This whole thing started with Hawthorne and I wanting to handle Mandragora, same as you, Hawthorne didn't care what it took as long as we finally got him. So he was willing to overlook a lot. But as we got deeper and deeper into this mess with SIM, Calc, and whatever else is actually happening, we had to bring in new people. You know Grey.."

"The silver fox with a stick up his ass?" Huntress chimes in. Question gives her another look but she doesn't even acknowledge him.

"Sure." You relent. "He has a more black and white view of the world, he said that when this is all said and done he's going to try and run you in Huntress.. for murder."

Her brows furrow and her eyes spark fiercely. Her silence is made eerie by the slight grinding you can see in her jaw. But it eventually breaks.

"And Kimble?"

"It's like I said. I vouched for you, told him you were good people. He said he wanted to meet you himself so he could verify it."

"And if he doesn't?" She hisses.

"Then he'd give Grey a hand in building a case on you two."

"Us two!?" Huntress says, stepping forward aggressively.

Question steps forward and puts out an arm which she bats away.

"Are you not hearing this? We've done nothing but helped and they STILL want to arrest us. Why are we even entertaining this?" She clutches the lapels of his trench coat and pulls him close. Powerful but with a tenderness, her well manicured hand touches his cheek and the tips of her nails gently trail down to his chin.

She leans up and places her lips by his ear.

Her next words are whispered. You shouldn't hear them. You couldn't hear them even. But yet they enter your mind and play through your ears regardless, you can feel the heat on your neck from her breath, more than that you can feel.. stirrings. You shudder violently, pushing those feelings back and only allow the auditory information to reach you.

"Why won't you walk away from this, Q? I played by their rules because you promised me that it would work out.. but now look. The kid is dying. Mandragora could walk by the end of the week and everything I've done would have been for nothing."

You see Question's hand reach up and cup hers. She sighs.
"I'm tired of this, Vic. I'm sorry for being distant from you but letting Mandragora go.. I didn't just do it physically. Leave with me and we can just be Victor and Helena."

You reel in shock, her words turn to slush between your metaphorical fingers, Helena. The grudge with Mandragora, her grand arsenal, the fact Banks was sent after her by Gorchokov. Huntess is Helena Bertinelli. You look up only to see Question has taken a step back from her, still clasping her hand in his. He whispers but you hear it as if you spoke it yourself.

"Not yet. I'm not ready to go yet, I helped you see through your business with Mandragora. I need you to help me see this through, I need to be more than I was when she beat me."

In the darkness it's hard to tell but you think you spy a small droplet fall from the edge of Huntress' purple mask. She's silent for a while as her thumb strokes the back of Question's hand. Eventually she nods and with a sniffle she turns to you.

"Am I interrupting something?" You hear from behind you. Kimble's voice.

You whip around and though the sun had already dipped below the cityscape of Gotham, plunging the city into a familiar state of artificial night, you could see the large pistol strapped to his hip and how dangerously close his hand lingered to it.

"Officer Kimble." Question says from down the alley, he let's Helena's hand slip away as he spreads his fingers. "When I last met with your Sergeant he preferred I keep my hands visible."

"He's old fashioned like that, must have rubbed off on me." Kimble replies. Still meandering slowly from the dark.

"Kimble when did you get here?" You ask.

"I thought you'd have picked up on me before anyone else, boot. Clean the wax out of your ears, I ditched my car about 2 blocks up the street to be safe. Hoofed it."

"You'd think after the morning you had you'd want to spend as little time on your feet as possible." Huntress chimes in.

"I've been through worse and with wet socks. Appreciate the concern though, ma'am. Would you mind maybe doing a little spin for me? I know you have a history of going full Robin Hood on people."

She sighs and lifts her hands giving a half-hearted spin, more of an exaggerated turn.

"Officer Kimble, I heard you wanted to look us in the eyes. Were you speaking metaphorically?" Question questions.

"Nope, Mark isn't the only one with a 6th sense."

"Then in that case I'm going to reach into my coat and retrieve a can."

"Feel free." Kimble replies, but his shooting arm goes tense.

Question slowly removes the can from his jacket with two fingers. Turning it to himself and releasing a gentle mist. Kimble's jaw drops slightly as Question's hair goes from a jet black to a lighter fiery red and the edges of his face from temple to chin begin to furl and peel away. Question dips his head into his hands and pulls the mask free from his face entirely.

He hesitates. Staring into the blank patch of pseudo-skin for a few moments before Huntress gently touches his back. He sighs and stands straight and proud.

"A pleasure to meet you, Officer."

"And you." Kimble replies, his hand relaxing.

Huntress reaches for her mask but Kimble holds up a hand.
"I can see your eyes just fine, leave it."

"Uh.. whatever you say." She replies.

Kimble looks to you and smiles.
"I won't lie. They're off to a good start."

He turns to the duo and raises his voice slightly.
"Would you two mind waiting by your car? I have something to speak to Mark about."

As they hesitantly walk off Kimble leans into your car.
"Thanks for setting this up, Mark. But I need you to let me handle this now."

"Excuse me?"

"This talk I have with them, I want to have it alone."

You glance to them and back at Kimble.
"Are you sure? I think it would be better if I was here."

"Exactly why I want you to go home and get some rest, that you deserve."

You go to argue back but he holds up a hand.
"This isn't a request Mark, I'm sorry. I need them off-balance, I'm not going to be able to get a good read on these two if you're around. I need you to trust me."

"I do, trust you Kimble, it's just.. I want this to work out."

"Again, that's why I need you to head home Mark. I'm sorry to pull the rank card on you here but this is an order; go home and get some rest."

>"Yes, sir."
>"I'm sorry, Kimble but you aren't my TO anymore. I can't leave the three of you alone until I'm sure everybody will be okay."
>"Why are you so insistent to get me out of here? Are you planning something?"
>"Just promise me you'll hear them out completely. Please."
>Write-In

>No secrets, okay? By the way, fuck off, kid.
Some people.

>>6045246
True that. Things only matter when when it suits them

>>6045243
>>"Why are you so insistent to get me out of here? Are you planning something?"
>>"Just promise me you'll hear them out completely. Please."
no secrets goes both ways

>>6045325
+1 especially
>"No secrets goes both ways."

Kimble better not be the mole. Everything points to Gorchakov, even SIM's hint, but...

>>6045243
>"Just promise me you'll hear them out completely. Please."

Write-in:
>”I wouldn’t advise trying to arrest them alone. You won’t win that fight.”

>>6045325
Supporting

>>6045243
>"No secrets goes both ways. I can back off, but I owe it to them to not just go home after springing this on them."
Frankly, as silly as it might sound, that would just be incredibly rude, and probably put the on edge besides.

>>6045398
Supporting

>>6045243
>"No secrets goes both ways. I can back off, but I owe it to them to not just go home after springing this on them."

You asked my respect on this. In turn, you can't ask me to drop their respect.
You all can go to your regularly scheduled games of cops n' robbers if or when the brain tumor takes me.

>>6045788
+1

>>6045325
supporting

>>6045325
>>6045327
>>6045397
>>6045988
>>6045788
>>6045838
>>6045398
>>6045734

"Why are you so insistent to get me out of here? Are you planning something?" Your voice is tinged with suspicion.

You notice a drop in Kimble's face.
"Mark, are you serious?"

"No secrets goes both ways, Kimble. But I sprung this on them and I owe it to them not to skip out on something I set in motion."

He opens his mouth to argue but pauses.
"Have you ever heard the expression 'Trust But Verify' before?"

"Sounds familiar."

"It was a quote by Reagan. It's what it says on the label, I trust you. I want that to be clear."

"Okay.." You say, curious where this is going.

"But I don't trust them. Everything you told me sounded good, but I need to verify it, from their end. I didn't want to tell you this because I didn't want you to take it personally; but I need to make sure these two aren't pulling something over on you."

"Pulling something? Hawthorne trusts them. They've been on my side since the beginning."

"Which is what makes me so suspicious. Again, this isn't to insult you, but you're still green."

"And Hawthorne?"

"Is one of the best men I know. But can you honestly tell me this business with Mandragora isn't touchy for him? That it could make him a little blind?"

You bite your inner cheek. Kimble sighs and shakes his head.
"If you're really curious what I have planned for them, it's pretty simple, I'm going to ask them the same thing I asked you."

"You're corroborating my story?"

"Pretty much. I trust you, but that doesn't mean I show my ass to a stranger without being sure. They need to earn this."

You lean back in your seat and rub your face.

"Now that you know what's up are you willing to head home? I understand not wanting them to feel nervous but that's exactly what I want, if there are cracks in anything they tell me I'll be ready to catch it."

"I wouldn't try to arrest them alone.. that fight might be harder than you think."

"You don't have to tell me twice, that Huntress looks like she can handle herself, no matter what I learn or what conclusion I come to I'll just thank them for their time and head off."

You screw up your face considering his request and he sighs once again, checking over his shoulder, before pulling his weapon from his holster. He turns it and hits the release and the magazine slides into his hand, turning it upright you can see the magazine is empty.

"I'm more than muscle. I've handled situations like this before, DeLucia. Trust me on this, because my trust in you is the only reason I'm giving them the chance to convince me. Also.. you kinda look like shit."

You glance up and see he isn't lying, your skin is pale and your forehead is flushed, cragged jutting pink lines reach out for your pupils. You blink and feel a slight sting.

>"Alright, I'm sorry. It's been a long day, let me know how it goes."
>"I still don't like this, Kimble. I want to stay."
>"I'm sorry, this was a mistake, maybe you should go.
>Write-In

Most likely will be doing another update before I sleep, just a heads up.

See you soon.

>>6046039
>"Alright, I'm sorry. It's been a long day, let me know how it goes."

>>6046039
>"Alright, I'm sorry. It's been a long day, let me know how it goes."

>>6046039
>"Alright, I'm sorry. It's been a long day, let me know how it goes."
First we doubt him during the van ruse moment
Second we doubt him with Question and Huntress
Damn Kimble's got it rough. Is it the way he's framed and the way he does things that doesn't jive with Mark and by extension us anons? Or are we just needlessly doubting this guy and thinking less of him or that he's some traitor? Why does it seem that way so much? What does anybody else here think? Am I the only one noticing this?

>>6046039
>"Alright, I'm sorry. It's been a long day, let me know how it goes."

>>6046083
I don't think he's a traitor, but what I do think is the guy is way too prone to trying to set up these bluffs and stings and such without telling us what's up, and he always acts needlessly cagey and gets all vague when it's go-time. It may be that he's used to a more military background where that approach is all you need, or even his PTSD kicking in and making him get all terse, but his communication needs work.

>>6046040
Apologies, I actually just ended up getting home and need to be up within the next 8 hours again. I will try for an early update tomorrow to make up for this.

>>6046155
Slight Kimble character insight that may or may not be wanted, so I'm spoilering:

Reminder that the first thing you'd ever seen about Kimble was that he was a man with strict standards and expectations. He also already had a history of washing out Rookies. I try to write Kimble as someone who is expecting soldier qualities from police and, in times of stress, will default back to his coding of a strict adherence to the chain of command when something he perceives as dangerous pops up. For better or worse.

I just wanted to offer this for any anons reading who are having a bit of a hard time getting a handle on what Kimble is 'about' or anyone who maybe feels a little bad that Mark and Kimble seem to be having so many clashes.

(Just imagine if you had picked him as your training officer from the start; how different things would be right now? I wouldn't mind hearing your guys' thoughts on what Mark would be like under the tutelage of someone other than Hawthorne.)

>>6046083
Literally all he had to do was say "I just need to cross reference your guys' accounts. Don't want you standing there so they can check your expression when they say things to course correct." and it'd have been an "oh doy" moment. It's like a five second situation defusal to not look shifty. Do I blame the guy? Nah. I just think his people skills are garbo kek

>>6046296
We can offer to stay away while he does his cross reference, but we should still be back for the conclusion.

For me it wasn't a lack of trust, it was simply a lack of decorum/ respect in the action. We've partnered up with them for some big work with big trust, so just fucking off isn't polite.

Additionally we should probably let huntress know she may be somewhat compromised. We don't know how much or why, but at least it'll get question to check procedures and set up more precautions for her.

>>6046348
Very good point about Huntress/Helena.

>>6046155 is me, and I'd like to change my vote to

>"One of them might be compromised, and I haven't had a chance to tell them yet, so I'l let you do your thing first, but I can't go home yet."

>>6046039
If we do leave, can we PLEASE mention this to Huntress befroe we leave, just in case?

>>6046348
I’m pretty sure we told Q about Gorchakov trying to get Banks to abduct Helena Bertinelli a while ago and Q rushed off to tell her afterwards.

>>6046513
If that was the case, Gorchakov woulda been immediately on Question's shitlist and ideally would have told us.

Right?

File: problem avoided.png (51 KB, 1141x582)

51 KB PNG

>>6046704
>>6046513
Huh, so we did. That said, Q probably assumed it was because she's from a notorious Gotham crime family.

>>6046039
>>"Alright, I'm sorry. It's been a long day, let me know how it goes."

>>6046042
>>6046069
>>6046083
>>6046155
>>6046725

"Alright, I'm sorry. It's been a long day."

"I was right there with you."

"Yeah I know, you could have made this a whole lot simpler if you just told me you were crosschecking my story. I get not wanting me here, having them peek at me to see what they should say. I know I'm green and I have a lot to learn, but I've pulled through for the department before. I think I've earned a little more.. tact." You struggle to find a softer way to end your argument.

Kimble's eyes slip downward and he frowns lightly.
"You're right.. I'm sorry. I have trouble seeing past rank when things get rocky, and that's not fair to you. I just remember my first night being a boot, I was just lost. I had no idea what to do, but the answer was always to shut up and listen to the commanding officer." He scoffs at the memory. "I guess that doesn't really translate well when you go domestic."

"Well maybe you have to switch up how you do things? Talk a little more and share what you're thinking so we can all get on board."

He nods but you can see his heart isn't in it.

Don't get quiet on me now, sir. You're the one who said you aren't all muscle, think about it like this, if you bring me in on the plans then you won't have to be disappointed when I don't pick up on it."

He smiles weakly and nods with half-laugh.
"Sure. Just try not to get jealous if Gray ends up liking my ideas more."

"I'll be sure to do that." You reply with a friendly jab to his shoulder.

You place your foot on the edge of your door and rise from your seat.

"What are you doing?"

"Saying bye, I owe that to them at least."

Placing two fingers in your mouth you let out a sharp short whistle. You see Question and Huntress both turn to face you, taking a few steps back.

"I'm heading home." You say just loudly enough for them to hear. "I trust Kimble, just be honest with him. We're on the same team."

Question gives you a stoic nod and Huntress does the same, her arms lightly wrapped around his. You sigh, the thought of Banks assignment to retrieve Helena Bertinelli tugging at your mind, you feel like you should tell her something but another piece of you deep in your mind soothes your anxious thoughts. It'll be okay, you give them both a smile and drop back into your seat.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Kimble. Text me what you think when you wrap up here."

"Will do. Now go home get some rest."

And there isn't a single detective in the world who could find a reason for you not to do just that..

You move almost in a daze. Parking your car, getting out, climbing the steep stairs leading to your floor.

When the door opens you feel your legs wobbling, the full weight of the day only now catching up to you. Your first order of business is throwing yourself into a hot shower, the steam helps you scrape away all the sweat, grime, and soot you'd accumulated. Stepping out you treat yourself to a fresh pair of clothes and head into your kitchen. The full work of the day has also put a considerable dent in your stomach, it growls and rumbles like a feral cat in a bag, you search your cabinets and scour the fridge eventually settling on a thick cut turkey sandwich and a bowl of hot instant noodles.

Devouring your meal you can't help but reflect on how cop life in Gotham and college life in National City weren't that different, or maybe it was you who hadn't changed all that much. As you gulped down the last mouthful of warm and spicy broth you let yourself sprawl over your sofa. Your feet felt like lead balls attached to rickety sticks, your back ached in such a unique way that it was almost pleasant feeling, and finally the thing that hurt the most was your head. Your temples throbbed and it felt like someone was gently, yet firmly, trying to push your eyeballs out from the inside. It wasn't the worst pain you'd experienced but now knowing what could be the cause of it..

TAP TAP TAP.

Your eyes fire open. The peaceful darkness replaced with a searing LED bulb from your ceiling, you grasp a fistful of cough and haul yourself up. Hawthorne was coming over.. that's right. Your groans as you lift yourself from the couch must have been audible from even the hallway because when you open the door you see Hawthorne looking with mild concern.

"Hey, sir." You say weakly. "Come on in."

"You alright, son?" He asks, stepping in and letting his eyes sweep from corner to corner. Surely an old habit.

"Yeah just.. really fucking sore."

Hawthorne barks sharply and sets a six-pack on your coffee table.
"Hah, you haven't even started to know what that word means. Wait till you get to my age and have a day like the one we just did."

"I don't want to." You say as you collapse back onto the couch.

Hawthorne stands in the center of your apartment with hands on his hips.
"Y'know I didn't get a great look at the place last time but you've got a nice little apartment. What's rent?"

"Lower than it should be, landlady's husband knew my Grandpa so she cuts me a discount."

"Hmph. Not low enough to buy a table?"

"What?"

"Where do you eat dinner? Or do you live off fast food?"

"I got a perfectly good coffee table."

Hawthorne walks over and drops onto your couch, plucking a bottle from it's cardboard sleeve.
"Oh Christ, don't you ever want to have a woman over here? You're gonna make her eat off your coffee table?"

"Oh come one, It has table in the name. It's not like I'm eating at a desk, which I've seen you doing plenty of, do YOU live off fast food?"

Hawthorne pops the top and takes a long swig. Smiling at you he spreads his arms and shrugs.

"What can I say, rook? I like my food how I like my women."

You groan in faux-disgust and grab a beer for yourself.

"Handle that business with Kimble and the latex fanatics?"

"Yeah, I also got into it with him a little."

"About?"

"Just work stuff, y'know. Trying to tell him to communicate better."

Hawthorne chuckles again.
"Shoulda seen him when he first joined up, now that was a mess."

"You raise an eyebrow and enjoy another sip, silence sets in as Hawthorne continues casually examining your apartment. While he does so you try to decide on what to talk about..

>"Speaking of Kimble then, what WAS he like when he first started?"
>What were you like when you first started off in the GCPD?"
>"How'd your talk with Grey earlier go? You guys were at each other's throats."
>"Earlier you told the receptionist you have a standing reservation at some fancy restaurant, right? I didn't even know you liked that kind of thing."
>"So.. how's Mendez?"
>"How about this weather, huh?"
>"Do you think I'm gonna be okay?"
>Write-In (Recommended)

>>6046817
>"Speaking of Kimble then, what WAS he like when he first started?"
>"So.. how's Mendez?"

No heavy subjects. Just jokes and gossip.

>>6046883
+1

>>6046817
>What were you like when you first started off in the GCPD?"

>>6046883
+1

>>6046817
"Speaking of Kimble then, what WAS he like when he first started?"
>What were you like when you first started off in the GCPD?"

>>6046817
>>What were you like when you first started off in the GCPD?"

>Write-in: Why, Hawthorne, are you se inclined to snoop around my quarters? What is it that you wish to glean from such a thing?

Updating in a bit, things ran late today. So make sure to check in probably around 7EST if you want to see the big Hawthorne lore coming up.

See you soon.

"Speaking of Kimble, what WAS he like when he first got the badge?"

Hawthorne laughs deeply.
"Oh boy, almost a total opposite of you, Rook."

"How so?"

He takes a long draw from his bottle and leans back.
"He was still locked into that army mindset, he flew through the academy's psychical exams but he struggled in some other areas.."

He speaks vaguely but you remember your entrance exams for the Academy, They broke them up into three separate exams: Physical, The Practical Knowledge, and the Psychological Exams. The final one was always the most talked about, usually for the explicit instructions to NOT talk about it.

"Anyways, he was having what my dad used to call a 'framing issue' when he transitioned."

"You said he was basically my opposite though, I struggled getting into that police mindset for the first couple weeks after graduation."

"Sure but you came into this looking to help the people here."

"Doesn't everyone?"

Hawthorne smiles warmly, it's almost shocking to see the expression on him.
"You really are a Duty and Honor cop through and through. That's how it should be on paper, sure. But a lot of different cops means a lot of different reasons. Some people are more interested in hurting the bad guy than helping the little one."

"You don't mean he was.."

"God, no. But if he had landed with someone who didn't understand that kind of thing he could have ended up going down a short dark road. But he struggled with the stuff that comes naturally to you, defusing situations, keeping people calm in a crisis, and he had absolutely no way with children. I had to smack him upside the head once for using the shop P.A. to tell a kid to clear the roads."

You chuckle and drink, but Hawthorne's story makes that small piece in the back of your mind tickle. The one that's wondering about Question and Huntress. You decide to ignore it by redirecting.

"You said you understood how a guy like Kimble thinks right? Were you ever military?"

Hawthorne lets loose a sharp cackle and he sits his beer on the table.
"Christ no, I'd have never made it. No, my Father was a marine back in the day."

"World War II?"

"Hilarious. No, he toured through Vietnam. Took part in the Tet Offensive and took a bad wound, came full of piss and vinegar." Hawthorne speaks with a smile but his eyes hide the smallest trace of something else. You can feel it in your own chest, a pang.

"He struggled adjusting then?"

"More than struggled, he lost. Took up a bottle and was homeless. Up until he met my mother."

"While homeless?"

"Yup. She helped out at the Wayne's soup kitchen for credits at Gotham U. While he was getting his ass chewed off by mosquitos she was in college, according to him she looked at him like how you'd look at a wounded bird. Always a second bowl of soup and always a few extra things in the goodie bags they gave out then. Dad told me she was as close to a saint as he'd ever seen."

>>6046883
>>6046893
>>6046911
>>6047230
>>6047343
>>6047485

"She sounds great."

"Yeah, I just wish I had gotten the chance to meet her. She and my dad started seeing each other and he worked his way off the streets, he ended up selling newspapers and got enough for a small place in the Narrows, and that's where I grew up."

You stop before the beer tips into your mouth and lower the bottle.
"Oh, sir. I'm sorry.."

"Oh come on, the Narrows weren't that bad."

"I didn't-"

He cuts you off with a wave of his bottle.

"It's fine, Mark. Really. It was after I was born, there was a complication and.. let's just say you aren't the first person I met who doesn't like hospitals. But yeah, my dad had been out two years at that point and the VA had fallen through on him. The news spread around the soup kitchen and they knew my dad was a former 'client', so they gave my dad a nice chunk of change. Raised that money from the other homeless and anybody they could get to stop outside. Eighteen years and he only ever touched that money for me, we could have moved out of the Narrows but then most of that money."

"Wow.." You whisper.

"It's why I love Gotham. It's a bad city trying it's best to be good."

"You said you grew up in the Narrows, were they still.. y'know?"

"A shit hole? Yup. Wasn't as bad as today though, drop-heads and Joker gang moved in when I was about thirty."

"Yeah, you said you joined young, with Grey right? What were YOU like back when you first started."

Hawthorne raises his eyebrows and pops another beer.

"That might be classified, Rook."

"What!?"

"Ancient history, what does knowing about an old fossil like me do for you? Especially one who's been jawing on and on." He smirks.

"Oh I get it, you just want a break to drink huh?"

"It would be nice."

He holds out the neck of his bottle to you and you join him letting loose a clink.

"But it would be nice to not be the only one chatting away, you spend all day asking questions. Tell me something after I answer ya."

"Something like what?"

Hawthorne shrugs and kicks his feet up.

"You tell me."

You put a hand to your chin and think for a few moments before he follows up.

"I mean actually tell me, I like to try and figure out the endings to stories before I read em. Or hear em."

You mumble to yourself and rack your exhausted brain.

"I'll tell you about..."

>"The time I accidentally attuned my Shivers to New York."
>"How my grandfather taught me to fight."
>"The time I met Nia?"
>"What I saw at a diner, I was meeting a detective named J'onn Jones... but he was already dead."
>"This pretty nasty fight I got into in College. Almost got me expelled."
>Write-In

>>6049385
>"How my grandfather taught me to fight."
>"This pretty nasty fight I got into in College. Almost got me expelled."

>>6049390
+1

>>6049390
+1

>>6049385

>>6049390
>>6049414
>>6049558

"I'll tell you about how my grandfather taught me to fight, and I'll even tell you when I put those lessons to use."

"Gotham boys, even the cleanest of em have gotten their hands dirty." Hawthorne says with a nod.

"It was pretty nasty, nearly got me expelled from College."

"Well hot damn, guess I better get the history lesson started then."

Hawthorne takes one last swig and then sets the bottle down, half turning to you he begins.

"Grey and I entered academy at the same time, we had grown up around each other and worked well as a pair, we performed high enough on the exams to have a choice between precincts so we made sure to go for the same one. Back then this Training Officer program didn't exist, when you got in they threw a bag in your arms gave you your partner and sent you out."

"Sounds.. reckless."

"By design, Neither Grey or I knew but the Commissioner at the time had his fingers in a bunch of pies. Regardless, we ended up split and for the next two or three years we learned to be cops. You can probably guess the lessons were pretty different between us, Grey spent most of his time working scenes, canvassing, that sort of thing."

"Sounds right, I'm guessing your partner was teaching you about how best to kick doors and knock heads?"

"Hah! Something like that.." You watch as his eyes go unfocused and he taps into an old memory.

"It was my third day on the job and we'd done jack shit. The two days prior he spent putting me to work with cleaning the squad cars, traffic stops, and all the paperwork he wasn't interested in. I snapped at him one morning asking when I'd get to do real police work and he told me I wasn't ready. I disagreed."

"So he took you on a dangerous call?"

"Not exactly. He brought me with him for a house call, local enforcer up in Ottisburg, we had a warrant to serve and he brought me along. Made me put the cuffs on."

"Did he fight?"

"Not at all. It was odd, Old Officer Crews wasn't too fond of that though, so before I put him in the back I was stopped. Crews took the cuffs off him and pointed at me, told him if he could knock out his Rookie then he could walk on this. Get a head start."

"Holy shit."

"You're telling me. I was still asking if he was serious when I got tackled."

"So you won right?"

"You may be shocked to hear this, rook. But I wasn't always the prime specimen I am now, I used to be a gangly stack of bones, but regardless.. yeah I won. Same trick I got you with."

"You shot him!?"

"No need. He was trying to turn my face into a pot hole when I jabbed him in the gut with my revolver, I pulled the hammer and that was all he needed to hear to know it was over. I got him cuffed back up and put away."

"What did Crews say?"

"He told me what I did was smart, but there'd come a time when being smart wouldn't be enough. 'You've got guts now you just need to muscle to back it up.' he got me into Boxing and I spent all my weekends and most of my off time training."

File: NonnoDeLucia.jpg (47 KB, 564x758)

47 KB JPG

"Is this leading up to another humble brag about being a Gotham Gold Glove?"

"Humble what? Look if you doubt me we can have another go at it for real this time."

"Maybe when this is all over." You laugh.

"Anyways, Crews was a bastard and he pushed me harder than anyone else had, any mistake meant a week of foot patrol with the ankle jerks. But he helped me be the cop I am now, for better or worse."

"For better." You say with certainty.

Hawthorne gives you a light smile and sighs grabbing his drink again.
"Alright enough about me, I want to hear about this Grandfather of yours."

"I called him Nonno, he was.." You pause your sentence as years of memories with him fly through your mind. You smile and settle for the simplest. "He was the best."

Hawthorne simply drinks and waits for you to continue.

"Eventually it was decided I had enough of a handle on my Shivers, from the medicine and just me learning how to tame it, to go to school. Freshman year. Of course my 'condition' meant I needed extra care, I transferred in the middle of the school year and got put in special education."

"Why? You don't seem slow to me."

You raise an eyebrow and Hawthorne holds up a hand.
"Sorry sorry, you don't seem challenged."

You laugh and give him a quick middle finger.
"Thanks, sir. Anyways I was blowing through the classes and it became kinda obvious to the school that I didn't belong there. But they were also worried about putting me with the normal kids, the whole 'meta' debate was still a headline then, eventually someone had a brilliant idea. To just keep me in Special Ed classrooms while giving me the coursework and textbooks from the more advanced classes I was capable of."

"So they just shut you in a closet and left you to figure it out for yourself?"

"They video'd the classes so I could watch the recording the next day. I was always a day behind everyone else essentially."

"Jesus." Hawthorne growls. "You were just a kid, what was the point?"

You hold up a hand.
"You're preaching to the choir, sir. But it wasn't going to change so I made it work, eventually though other students started to notice that the new kid who was 'Special' was out-performing them. Which led to the inevitable."

"Brats can be vicious. Did you fight back?"

"No, I had gotten into something like that when I was younger. Nonno took me to the park and we talked. He told me words and petty lies weren't reasons to lash out. To be the bigger man."

"Good advice, but sometimes you gotta act."

"He told me that too, in a way, he'd always say 'a man is not judged by his words but by his actions' and I still believe that."

"What happens when the words turn into action?"

"Exactly where I'm going with this. I had one class that would post test results publicly outside the classroom on a corkboard, I was only able to check it when classes were in session so I wouldn't 'disturb' anyone in the halls. Apparently though I had gotten a higher score than some loud mouth."

"His friends were busting his balls about the retard beating him out and I guess he took it a little harsh. Ended up waiting until after school, my classes wrapped up late and most staff had already gone home."

"Let me guess, he sucker punched you."

"He tried. It was the first time in a long time that my Shivers had forced their way to the surface. I turned around while he still had his fist pulled back, he hadn't even swung yet."

"What did you do?"

"I asked him what he was doing."

"And what did he say?"

"He punched me in the nose."

You both stare silently at each other for a moment before erupting into laughter.

"You.. you just stood there?" Hawthorne asks between breaths.

"I was a kid, man! I didn't know he was gonna do that, I'd never met the guy before."

"Whew, fuck." Hawthorne says shaking off the last of his giggles. "You got him back right?"

"I jumped on him and just kinda.." You swing your arms like some sort of sloppy windmill while still chuckling.

"Did it work?"

"Hell no, I got my ass kicked once he got me off of him. He ended up running off when the Janitor came to break it up and I just thanked the guy and limped home."

"Bet your folks were furious."

"They were, but they didn't learn until the next day. They were both working full time, hospital bills y'know?"

"But your Pop was home?"

"Nonno was always home, he only worked on Sundays, so when I came inside and he saw me. Oh boy."

"Furious, right?"

"I learned a handful of new curses that day. He always tried to speak to me slowly because I was still learning, but from the moment he saw me his Italian was coming out at full speed, he cleaned me up while mumbling to himself at mach ten."

"Wait wait, you know Italian? Like you're fluent?"

"I mean, conversationally. Don't ask me to draft any letters to the homeland though."

Hawthorne grunts in surprise and motions for you to continue.

"Anyways I get cleaned up and he takes me out back, the entire time he's mumbling to himself and he drops the old chestnut on me about actions mattering more than words. But there's a new bit this time. He tells me that 'Actions make the man' and when someone acts against me that there's one more thing that makes a man, besides actions."

"Which would be?"

"Le sue fottute palle." You say simply with a reminiscent smile.

"Meaning?"

"His balls."

"Oh." Hawthorne says shocked, then as he sits on it for a moment that same devious smile your Nonno had hits his face. "Are you telling me?"

"Nonno DeLucia, god rest his soul, the God fearing man that he is taught me to fight dirty. Nut shots, throat punches, kicking shins, at the end I'm pretty sure he mentioned eye gouging but he was probably joking."

"Sounds like a tough cookie." Hawthorne says with a low whistle.

"He was the kindest person I've ever met, but he was also a Chaplain for the army, back in the second world war."

Hawthorne raises an eyebrow and quietly asks.
"So was he.. y'know?"

"He had already moved here when the war kicked off, he signed up and served double duty. Translator and Chaplain, eventually he got sent back and he shifted his focus to giving spiritual support to Italian POWs."

"Wow."

"He said in the end we're all God's children."

"He sounded like a real stand up guy, Mark."

"He was, yeah." You say, a bitter sweet weight in your chest.

Hawthorne leans forward and grabs another bottle, passing one to you. He cracks them both and then raises his bottle.

"To learning from our elders." He chuckles.

"Yes, sir." You reply, appreciating the break in speaking.

"So that fight you had in college must've got pretty nasty then, if you were taught to go for the eyes."

"It was after I broke up with Nia, I was angry at.. a lot. It wasn't smart and I guess I was just-"

"Looking to pick a fight." Hawthorne said quietly, a note of sympathy in his voice.

"Yeah something like that. I went to some place, it had a bar and there was a college game on or something. I just remember it being really crowded and that was perfect for me, I wanted all the noise and action around me. My shivers had been acting up and I was struggling to keep a lid on it, anyways this guy at the bar he didn't get his drink or maybe it wasn't fast enough. He grabs the bartender by her wrist."

"Mhm." Hawthorne says expectantly.

"You seem to know where this is going, I tell him to back off. He shoves me. I tackle him onto the ground. We're fighting and I'm just going feral, I'm scratching and smooshing his face into the floor. He's trying to get up but I was on the wrestling team and I just wasn't letting him do a thing."

Hawthorne watches you intently but silently sips his beer as he listens.
"Eventually the people watching start to pull me off but before they get me I nail him good."

"No.."

"Yup. Right between the legs." You say, a tinge of shame flavors your words.

Hawthorne groans and shifts his legs a little.
"How did this get you in trouble with the school?"

"Campus security got called, guy I hit was talking about charges but the bartender stepped in for me. Showed em her wrist and the bruise he had left when he snagged her. They cut us both loose after that but they still sent word to the school."

"Damn rent-a-cops. Too cowardly to put on the real badge."

You wave a hand.
"They were just doing their jobs. I had to have a long talk with the Dean but eventually he decided to let me stay enrolled, on probation. Spent the last year there walking on eggshells, moved back here with my folks and jumped back straight into academy."

You throw your hands up and lean back with your drink.

"I knew you had more guts than you let on your first day."

You shrug and look to the table, the carboard carrier sits devoid of it's amber bottles now, when you finish these up it'll probably be time to get that sleep you need so badly.

>Any final questions for Hawthorne?
>"Well, it's late and we have a new case to get into. I'll see you tomorrow?"

>>6049971
>Any final questions for Hawthorne?
I've got no questions, but promise to tell him Nonno's cannoli story sometime the next time you hang. Might have the recipe around, too...

>>6049971
>"Well, it's late and we have a new case to get into. I'll see you tomorrow?"
and if we can
>Send a text to Q, ask how it went

>>6049971
>Any final questions for Hawthorne?
What’s your craziest policing story? With how long you’ve been on the force, there must have been one or two times where something weird happened.

>>6049978
+1

>>6050095
>>6049978
And a +1 to sending a text to Q.

>>6049971
Changing my vote from >>6050096 to backing >>6050095
But I also want to text Q like >>6049978 said

>>6049385
>"The time I accidentally attuned my Shivers to New York."
>"How my grandfather taught me to fight."
>"This pretty nasty fight I got into in College. Almost got me expelled."

Q and H must be so done with Mark. He just keeps dragging them in front of cops and unmasking them.
Kimble is based, but Mark went the other route in his way of being a cop. Kind of an interesting idea, the alternative Mark "Fuck 'em" DeLucia, who had Kimble as TO. Probably wouldn't talk much to sim. Not without alerting the entire precinct first at least.

>>6050490
>Q and H must be so done with Mark.
Telling them about the brain tumor and that we might need to pass the investigation on probably bought us a lot of leeway, I figure.

>>6046205
Hawthorne or Kimble were the best picks to be a beat cop, with any other mentor probably resulting in Mark being quickly steered to a more specialized roll. Kimble-trained Mark would probably have ended up a lot more of a hardass, and I bet we'd roll Shivers a lot just to understand what the hell he was up to at first.

>>6050095
>>6050096
>>6050099
>>6050100

"Beer is getting low.." You remark.

"So it is." Hawthorne says with a sigh. He eyes his bottle and drains the rest of it.

"We have a new case to handle tomorrow, but before you go I wanted to ask you something I've been curious about."

"Shoot." He speaks as he gathers his bottles and replaces them in their flimsy box.

"What's your craziest story? With how long you've been on the force, there must have been one or two times where something weird happened."

Hawthorne snorts and shakes his head.

"The weirdest thing is when everything seems normal, gives you the creeps when the city gets quiet."

"You're telling me."

"Well let's see. Crazy and weird huh?"

You finish your drink as he strokes his chin and ponders your question, you follow his lead and pack the rest of your loose bottle with their brethren, eventually he snaps his fingers and smiles wickedly.

"Oh you'll like this one, Rook."

"Hit me."

"Crews and Me were at the end of our time together, I was already working on the paperwork to ride with grey while he was gearing up for an early retirement. Old bastard wanted to go out still working the street. He wasn't game for withering behind a desk."

"Sounds familiar.."

"Oh shut up, the thing is we have a tradition at GCPD that your last day before retirement you take one last call before end of watch. Dispatch only sends out the one call for em, barring emergencies and what not, so we eventually get the call. A 273 going down in Coventry."

"A domestic?"

"I'm getting there, cool your jets, Detective. Now we pull up and what we see is.." You see his face wriggle and his nostrils flare, eventually he clears his throat stopping the fit.

"You good?"

"Just uh.. had the image come back into my head. So we pull up and what we see is probably the huskiest woman I've ever seen. I'm talking easily over four hundred pounds but she's still walking around in a pair of heels that are fighting for their damn lives." The more he talks the more his laughter seeps into his words and rattles his voice.

You start to smirk too and put a hand up to your mouth to try and fight back.

"You ever microwave a marshmallow, Rook? Slap it in a tube top and paint a face on it, that's what we were dealing with."

"A tube top?" You spit out in disbelief.

"It was more of a tunnel top on her, if you ask me." He barely gets the sentence out before slapping a hand on his thigh and letting loose a wicked cackle.

"Holy shit.." Is all you can muster without losing your composure.

"Anyways.. ah fuck.. Anyways, this lovely woman was apparently one of those highfalutin corner girls."

"She was a prostitute!?"

"An escort." He corrects. "But she apparently made a pretty penny off people who are into that sort of thing, including the man she was arguing with. She has her purse in her hands and she's slamming that thing into the glass screaming this, that, and the other about how she's gonna kill him."

"What was the John saying?"

"He was terrified of the girl, would only talk through an intercom and even then his lips were zipped tighter than his date's dress. Couldn't help but notice the fella had a ring on his finger so it wasn't hard to figure what this was about but he just wanted her gone. No charges."

"And her?"

"Crews was keeping her busy off to the side but as soon as he said that about her leaving she blew a gasket, bowled right over Crews and charged the door. When I tell you I dove out of the way, I've been slower trying to get cover from gunfire. She's going ballistic and those doors are starting to bulge, I help Crews up and he makes the call that she's going in for assault on an officer and tells me to get the cuffs on her."

"You!? Oh no.."

"Don't worry, I reminded him how this was his last ever collar and did he really want to hand it off to his partner?"

"Clever." You give an approving nod and he waves jokingly.

"I have my moments, and by God was this a top five. I'm stood on the curb watching these two struggle, Crews eventually managed to get ahold of one of her arms with BOTH of his and finally manages to get her down. At this point he's lost his hat, his belt is half off, and he's sweating like nobodies business. The woman is waddling those legs in a frenzy and sends those heels flying. I help Crews haul her up and we get her to the car.. only.."

Hawthorne stops and you see the same seizing in his throat and chest where he's fighting his own humor.

"She didn't fit did she.." You ask quietly.

"No." Hawthorne barely whispers. "No she does not. At this point even Crews is telling me to back off, he's handling this alone no matter what. I'm not protesting, so I do what makes the most sense, I pull out my phone and get some pictures."

"Phones could take pictures back then, huh?"

"Oh yeah, Rook. I just needed to make sure I had my flash powder on me. I get some good pictures but most of them just look like a man wrestling with a skin colored bean bag chair. One image though, this one picture, my magnum opus. He got tired of using his arms so he walks up to those glass doors and they keep a small basket of umbrellas."

"He didn't."

"He did, the main picture at his retirement party is him with one foot on the broad's gut and an umbrella in both hands that he's using to stuff the edges in. I should have won a damn Pulitzer." He cackles madly as he wipes a tear from his eye. "Aw shit, we called him 'Ahab' until he took his last walk out and joined the 10-42 Club."

"Holy fuck.." You whisper with a goofy grin plastered. "That was definitely a crazy story."

"You'll get plenty of your own one day, son. Just keep at the job and.." His sentence trails off as he has the same thought as you.

"We'll see." You say, keeping your smile. "Right now it's pretty late, we should probably get some rest while we can."

He shakes off the awkward thought and gives you a love tap to the shoulder.
"When you're right, you're right."

After that Hawthorne heads out and you close the door behind him, the sudden silence of your apartment weighing on you, you shiver uncomfortably and shake it off. You just need a bit of sleep to fix where your head is at right now.

As you change into a comfortable pair of basketball shorts you slide into your cold sheets and get comfortable. Suddenly a thought strikes you, you grab your phone from the nightstand and bang out a text, the phones light stinging your weary eyes in the dark.

"How did everything go? Sorry to spring things on you."

You hit send and watch the message shift in color, you let the phone rest on your chest and sigh deeply. You'll just stay up a little longer until Question responds.

Just.. gotta keep your eyes open for another couple of minutes.. he answers fast usually so it really. Shouldn't.. Take..

>Roll 3d100

Worst Of Three.

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>6050833

Rolled 90 (1d100)

>>6050833

Rolled 90, 90, 64 = 244 (3d100)

>>6050833
Rolling

>>6050866
Fuck me

Rolled 70, 38, 97 = 205 (3d100)

>>6050833
Am I late?

>>6050871
Definitely not, I did not this time mean 3 1d100's btw. I did want 3d100, if someone just wants to roll another 1d100 though I can bundle you in with >>6050837 & >>6050850

Rolled 23 (1d109)

>>6050874
Rollin’ a one…

>>6050837
>>6050850
>>6050876

137 puts you in the ball park of:

>101-200: The Road.

File: BurningMan.jpg (42 KB, 484x624)

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Warm wind curls around your neck and tickles your ear as you open your eyes in a haze of confusion, along your back is the heat of the asphalt beneath you seeping through your clothes, your vision slowly comes into focus as you realize you're lying on your back. You look to your left and right, you're flanked by tall buildings and the rusted shells of destroyed vehicles, something about this is so familiar to you but the more you try to think the harder it gets to remember.

The sky above is a dim orange, like a sunrise without the hues of pink, the clouds above you move strangely. Stopping and starting, they jerk across the sky as if being pulled by invisible chains before dissolving away and forming new smaller clouds that follow this stilted migration. In the center of them lies a cloud still thick and full, while the others are wispy grey smudges against the sky, It's color is deep and black and it only seems to grow in size as time passes. You feel your throat constrict as the air becomes hard to breathe, it scratches the interior of your throat with invisible nails as it goes down, your eyes widen and you scramble to sit up as you realize the cloud is not growing bigger. It is drawing closer.

From the center of the tar colored miasma there's a flash of light, like lightning in storm only a deep red and vibrant yellow, the dense exterior of the mass is pierced by harsh jets of flame. As you struggle to rise to your feet you hear a scream, low at first but gradually rising, the sound of true fury echoes through the empty street as you finally manage to clamber to your feet. Then the heat comes, almost unbearable you feel an intense burn spread across your back as the cloud divides and reveals it's core; a man completely engulfed in flame and smoke. Between the licking flames you get a glimpse of what could only be a charred corpse, the smell is familiar.

You stumble, every instinct screaming at you to flee, your legs feel tight and heavy, despite your best efforts with every step you take your vision sinks lower and lower until you go sprawling forward. You try to catch your fall but the moment your bare flesh touches the asphalt you're met with a deep and spitting sizzle. The screaming grows closer as the entity bears down on you, rolling to your back you try once more to stand but what you see only adds your scream to the cacophony.

Your legs, from ankle to thigh, are no more. Your shoes stand alone where you had risen and a smear of bone white powder leads to the blocky edges of your upper thigh, which crumbles away like old chalk, looking up again you feel blisters swell all over as the skin of your face goes taut and you find your expression stuck in that state of pure horror as the fire consumes you.

File: DreamWoman.jpg (75 KB, 564x989)

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You only just manage to close your eyes before the liquid in them boils away and when you reopen them again you find yourself standing now. In the center of that road. The sky and strangle cloud remains but the only trace of the entity before are wisps of night colored smoke that fade away. The crushing sense of fear that muddled your mind before is gone and it is now that you realize where you're standing.

You survey slowly, small pockmarks in the street burn with miniature fires like old braziers, the street is lined with pale trees in wrought iron baskets and old Victorian street-lamps fill the space between. Without even meaning to you walk forward, with each step you watch the trees wither and the glass compartments of the lamps fill with that same black smoke. The trees take strange forms the further you walk, their leaves disintegrate and fall to the ground like specks of grey snow, it's only as you near the end of the street that you notice the open doors of a building ahead. As you reach it you turn and look back down the road.

The dried jutting structures are no longer trees, from ground to branch tip, you notice small red tubes running all over the bark. The scent of charred flesh is overwhelming and with an ache in your gut you start to realize these more resemble exposed nerves than trees, with your realization comes a throbbing sharp pain in your head. You put a hand gently to your temple and retreat into the open door to escape this nightmarish parody. As you step in bright light overwhelms you and your eyes squeeze shut tight, that's when the air goes cool and refreshing, you smell the gentle scent of perfume and feel a delicate touch working it's way up your arm until it rests on your cheek.

"Mark?" You hear a female voice say.

You open your eyes and find yourself only a foot or so away from a woman in an elegant black dress criss-crossed with lines of gold. Her features are sharp and her dark brown eyes stand out against her pale skin and raven hair, but as you look closer you notice something about her proportions isn't right..

You take a step back out of reflex and gently push away the hand from your cheek. Her eyebrows knit together in concern but she only nods and takes a half step back. You look over her more fully and see her legs and arms are too long for her body, but you still can't help but to think about how beautiful she is, you pull your eyes from her compelling form and cast your eyes around you. The sky is a deep purple and stars twinkle in tandem with the lights of the city, you notice now you're standing on a balcony overlooking Gotham, looking straight down you see the courtyard below empty save for a single soul. A man in a grey hoodie looks up, his face obscured by shadow, the only thing visible being rows and rows of glowing white tally marks.

"It's a beautiful night tonight." The woman says quietly, her voice gentle but commanding. "I've never seen the moon so big."

Your eyes move with hers as you both look up to the sky. The full moon stares at you, beaming like the headlight of some cosmic vehicle, but in it's center you see a shadow. A dark splotch that is slowly but surely spreading, it's sharp pointed edges creeping ever forward.

"It'll be a shame to lose something so beautiful." The woman says, sipping on her drink as she speaks.

You look down to the street again and see it empty, you raise your eyes and see the city lights have all gone out, even the delicate glow of the moon fades until you stand in a different kind of twilight.

"What is this?" You manage to ask.

"What do you interpret it to be, Mark?"

"I must be dreaming.."

"Then a dream it is." She says simply.

"What am I doing here?"

"You had to run away didn't you? Go somewhere safe?" She speaks through ruby lips that you can't pull your eyes from.

She extends a hand again and despite your slight recoil you allow her to gently touch your chin. She lifts your face ever so slightly and stares into your eyes.

"You're beautiful, son of Gotham." She coos.

You try to speak but find your vocal chords uncooperative. She frowns and pulls her hand back.

"A shame you have to leave so soon."

"I do?"

She nods solemnly.
"This isn't the place for you, not yet. But I know you're the inquisitive type, so before you go..."

She leans in and speaks mere inches from your ear, the chill that runs through your entire body is ice cold and electric.

"I'll answer one question for you."

She pulls back and looks to you expectantly.

>"Who are you?"
>"Who is SIM?"
>"Is this really just a dream?"
>Am I going to die?"
>Write-In

>>6051410
>"Something terrible is about to happen to my home. How do I stop it?"
I can only imagine what SIM's seeing right now, but it definitely isn't good.

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>>6051410
Forgot to include the pic for this so I'll do that here.

Author Notes Below:
[Spoiler] I had a couple dream sequences lined up (5) but I couldn't decide on the one I wanted most so I figured a random encounter style roll would handle it. I'm pretty glad with the one that popped up, the section with the woman was always going to be the capper regardless. I also really enjoyed getting to explore Hawthorne's character a little more as well as get some memories told from Mark's perspective. Would love to hear what you guys took away from their stories.

I'd also really appreciate any thoughts you guys have on the way I wrote the nightmare and this is the one time I'll be a huge queer and say that if an art anon liked that scene, I think it would be a pretty cool illustration. Shameless begging aside, I'm excited to hear what you guys think. Thanks for reading, see you soon.

>>6051416
+1

>>6051416
>imagine what SIM's seeing right now
He was right there in the dream, down below on the street. He saw Mark too
>looking straight down you see the courtyard below empty save for a single soul. A man in a grey hoodie looks up, his face obscured by shadow, the only thing visible being rows and rows of glowing white tally marks.

>>6051410
>>Am I going to die?"

>>6051532
+1

>>6051416
This.

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>>6051532
>giving the dreamscape entity such a vague question
shiggy

>>6051698
Shit bro everyone's gonna die. Spoiler alert am I right?

>>6051410
>"Am I going to die from this thing in my head?"
Specificity saves.

>>6051719
I dunno. I get what you’re saying but the original wording is more in line with Mark’s mental state IMO.

He’s not working a case anymore, there’s no more ethical framework between him and the danger. Just a young guy on the precipice of the abyss. He’s bound to be panicking and not thinking about this thoroughly.

>>6051752
I don't think it's a stretch for him to specify the tumor. It's gotta be on his mind.Pun intended.

>>6051756
Do you really need to ask a fancy dream ghost lady woman if the growing mass of borked cells in your head is going to wind up killing you if it goes untreated?

>>6051416
>>"Something terrible is about to happen to my home. How do I stop it?"
I hate the fact that I already know it's gonna be another one of those vague useless answers dream creatures give in every form of media. But sure. One must try.

>>6051831
Yes, because we're a literal superhuman psychic, in a world where things like being doused in chemicals and hit by lightning is sometimes actually good for you.

>>6051416
supporting

>>6051416
>>6051441
>>6051684
>>6051835

You avert your gaze from her hypnotizing eyes and gaze up at the moon, it's light slowly being smothered by the shadowy mass.

"Something terrible is about to happen to my home. How do I stop it?"

Her delicate hand touches your wrist and slowly interlocks with your fingers. You dare a glance and see that her gaze goes over the railing and to the street below.

"A cyst lies beneath, waiting to rupture, waiting to bathe the streets in red light and liquid. In meat and bone."

"How do I stop it?" You repeat, your legs losing their weakness and your voice gaining back that authoritative edge.

Now her eyes lift to you and she smiles, almost bitterly.
"It cannot be stopped. You can only hope to survive it."

"That's not good enough, there has to be something.."

"It could be relocated, but Fate has dictated it be here, it is the most.. pragmatic solution." She speaks those final words as if they are a foreign language, like she doesn't fully grasp their meaning.

"But it CAN be relocated? Just not stopped?"

She places a hand on your cheek again and you bat it away. Her eyes glimmer and she frowns.

"Trying to stop fate is a fool's errand. Wherever it lies will suffer the fate of Gotham two-fold. To place it elsewhere is to save this city at a cost equal to two others." A dark line breaks away from her eye. The small droplet leaves behind a faint trail of makeup. "You wouldn't want that, would you, son of Gotham?"

You struggle to find your answer. You love this place. You set out to dedicate your life to protect it. To protect it's people, your neighbors, form anything. But could you?

Before you can find your answer a deep rumble shakes the building you stand on. You watch as the woman closes her eyes and sets loose several more tears, she nods gently before looking into your eyes once more. With every word the rumbling grows more intense and showers of stone dust rain down on you.

"If you wish to defy fate then heed my words. The Grandfather will lead you to the cyst. It will lead you to a place where shadows have shadows, where the past dominates the present, a place where it's always 10:48." As she finishes faint beams of red light begin to coalesce around you.

"What the fuck.. What's happening!?" You shout as the balcony you stand on begins to buckle and the railing falls loosely forward in jutting angles of black metal.

The uncanny woman grabs your arms with shocking strength swinging your body from the edge and with a forceful shove you feel your back connect with the door you had entered from. As the door gives way to your weight and you fall backwards you watch as she's consumed in the beam, but before completely vanishing, you hear her voice in your mind one last time.

"I love you."

You wake up gasping for air.

>>6051989

You throw your blanket off in a daze and swing your legs over the edge. You breathe heavily as your feet hit the floor and you slowly manage to wrangle your heart rate.

"Oh fuck.." You mumble to yourself, rubbing your stiff legs gently.

Suddenly a thought strikes you. If that was a dream you had you can only imagine what SIM had seen, though with his presence in the dream maybe he simply saw what you had. You briefly consider asking him before realizing that, even if you wanted to for some reason, it wouldn't even be possible to contact him until he called you first. You turn and see your phone lying in the heap of fabric you kicked off in a panic, picking it up you tap the screen and see a new message.

"I like him."

That eases one worry at least, the real crux of it would be Kimble's opinion of them. You jam a charger into your phone and set a shower, usually you'd run it hot but after the dream you had the idea of it makes your skin crawl, the only upside of a cold shower is when you step out you feel awake and alert. Your mind working constantly under the surface, while you carry out your normal routine, trying to figure out what you even went through to previous night. The options seem pretty clear to you: the dream was the work of your unwanted friend in your brain, Shivers, or both. The last option is the one that scared you the most. Still you try to focus on the substance of the dream and not the root cause as you dress and grab everything you need for work.

As you head out the door you stop and get a strong feeling in your gut. You march back to your room and lift the mattress, dead center beneath the bed is the briefcase you had been given, you reach in and pull out the silver case before kneeling to the ground and sticking it in the small gap beneath your bed. With some wiggling and a few pinched fingers you manage to weave it between the interlinked wooden posts of your box-spring and get it set securely. The grumble in your gut subsides and you head out the door.

====

Only five or so minutes away from the station your phone rings, the screen reads: 'Sgt. Hawthorne'

"Morning, sir."

"Mornin', Mark. How far out are you?"

"Not very, what's up?"

"I figure before we start digging through this file and get our entire day taken away from us we should probably have a conversation with the Commander and with Kimble."

"Ah.. I nearly forgot. You're right."

"Mhm, well I'm outside enjoying a cup of mud from the cart. Figured I'd ask you who you wanted to start with, I can meet you outside the Commander's Office or we can catch Kimble taking down the War Room."

>"We should take it to the Commander First, he'll be the angriest so we should just rip the band-aid off."
>"Let's talk to Kimble, as long as we are open and honest with him about why, it shouldn't be a huge deal."
>"Let's divide and conquer, you talk to the Commander and I'll talk to Kimble."
>"How about you talk to Kimble and I talk to the Commander?"
>Write-in

>>6052001
>"We should take it to the Commander First, he'll be the angriest so we should just rip the band-aid off."
First comes the worst...

>>6051996
>Wherever it lies will suffer the fate of Gotham two-fold. To place it elsewhere is to save this city at a cost equal to two others.
I don't think anyone will miss Detroit or Baltimore. Or Seattle. Or Chicago. Let's be real here there's a lot of cities that we'd not miss in the slightest. You're telling me we could get rid of San Fran or LA? Shiiiieeeet. Fuck it, ship it to Beijing. You know what, Pyongyang doesn't deserve to be here.

>>6052006
+1
Get it over with

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>>6052006
+1

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>>6052019
>Or Seattle
There's a donut stall in Pike Place that I quite like actually, so I begrudgingly say Seattle gets a pass.

>>6052019
Canonically, Gotham is worse than all those places, at least tge American ones. There's no city you dislike in the USA which Gotham can't outdo about the aspects you dislike.

>>6052001
>"How about you talk to Kimble and I talk to the Commander?"

>>6052001
>"Let's talk to Kimble, as long as we are open and honest with him about why, it shouldn't be a huge deal."
Why not just get Superman to throw the mysterious doom box into space? Most of space is pretty empty.

>>6053091
> throw the mysterious doom box into space
Do you want Space-Godzillas? Because that's how you get Space-Godzillas.

>>6053217
He has a point. If Mark and SIM find the nuke box deep below Gotham, what happens then? Do we simply call Batman who calls Superman, and we leave it to them?

>>6053274
I'd say so. Seems like their proper jurisdiction. The streets are ours, the sky is theirs.

>>6053274
If time allows, I wouldn't be opposed to handing the box off to Batman. That said, I get the distinct impression we're not gonna have that much flexibility when we do find it.

>>6053274
>Do we simply call Batman who calls Superman, and we leave it to them?
Yes.
>>6051996
>"If you wish to defy fate then heed my words. The Grandfather will lead you to the cyst. It will lead you to a place where shadows have shadows, where the past dominates the present, a place where it's always 10:48."
Bros, what the hell is the wöman talking about? Some deep DC lore?

>>6053289
The Batcave
Bruce Wayne, gothic drama queen that he is, accesses the Batcave from Wayne manner by setting his parents' grandfather clock to 10:48, the exact time of their death, so that every time he suits up he is immediately put into Trauma Mode

Rolled 2, 5 = 7 (2d6)

>>6053289
>wöman
Rolling

>>6053289
>>6053298
SHIVERS [Formidable: Success] - An echo of a different shard from a different cop in a different place, resonating through the strings of the basketweaving forum to here.

>>6053294
Damn, what an emo. No way Mark could know that though, so that's gonna be one of those "prophesy makes sense only after actually happening" things for him.
>>6053299
Kek
Wait, is Mark a moralist

>>6053217
Sounds like someone elses problem to me.

>>6053294
Bruce really does belong in Arkham with the rest.

>>6052006
>>6052100
>>6052125

You sigh.

"We should take it to the Commander first, he'll be the angriest so we should just rip the band-aid off."

"I had a feeling you'd say that, alright. I'll meet you in the bullpen when you get here and we'll tell him together."

"I did have another question, sir."

"Hit me."

"Do we tell him why we ended up paired together?"

"What do you mean? Why wouldn't we?"

Your stomach gurgles and tightens, ever since that dream it's felt like you've been walking around with an ice cube in your gut.

"Just have a bad feeling is all.. Gordon told us if the investigation goes public then it's over."

You hear shuffling and the faint sound of a door clicking shut.

"Do you really think the Commander would do that? Put our dirty laundry out to air over wounded ego?"

"I don't know him as well as you do and while I don't think he'd do it intentionally, it opens us up. Commissioner Gordon told us that he can't risk being exposed on this."

"He also told us to respect the chain of Command, Rook. I know this has you rattled, hell the pressure is even weighing on me some, but we can't buckle. If we can't trust our own commanding Officer why do we even bother putting on the uniform and coming into the office like it's some sort of play?"

"We're hunting a mole.. we have no idea how deep it goes. If Gorchakov, or another rookie pawn of his, isn't on that list of traffic cops then this runs deeper than a single person. Which means.."

"Everyone brought in on it is a leak risk. I know, I'm pretty sure I'm the one who gave you that speech when you brought up your friends to me after hiding them. But it also means we're not just dodging the mole, we're dodging our own, you told me you got behind a badge and not a mask because you wanted accountability, didn't you?"

You just frown deeply, your brain scrambles to come up with some response but you draw nothing. Hawthorne notes your silence and sighs.

"I said it in his office and I'll say it again. I'm in this with you, Mark. However you play this, I'll back you on it. But if something stinks don't expect me to take a whiff and smile."

"I wouldn't want you to, sir."

"Yeah, well good. Cause I'm an opinionated son of a bitch, get here as soon as you can and let me know before we head in."

The click of the call disconnecting untangles your strands of thought as you go right back to thinking. No. Debating with yourself, you grip the wheel tightly and shake your head. You got into this job to help people while staying honest and transparent, but as you pull into the lot and switch off the exit you find yourself wondering for the first time..

In a city like Gotham, is there really room for goodness without compromise?

Stepping through the doors you're met with the comforting sights and scents you'd grown accustomed to.

Dark Roast from the old machines give the air a rich aroma and serves to shake the final bits of sleep from you. Bunko gives you a friendly wave and a smile from a set of filing cabinets where he balances a bagel over a drawn-out drawer. Hawthorne stands at the far end with a sour expression and his face pulled tight.

Every step you take you can't help but notice something new, the way the light filters through the old yellowed windows, how each and every badge reflects and glints at you. Your mind snaps back to the dream, that view over the city, the twinkling lights. A hand on your shoulder makes you jolt.

"Woah, sorry to scare you DeLucia." A female Officer says, you recognize her from the front desk.

"Oh, I wasn't.. I just spaced out a little."

"I get it, mornings are rough sometimes, especially with the day you had yesterday."

She smiles warmly, you find yourself almost getting lost in her eyes as they glitter and shine. Everything feels so vibrant: the colors sharper, the sounds crisper, and the smells deep and full. It's only after a few seconds of staring that you realize she's been talking this entire time.

"...never again. At least not on a weekday." She laughs and you awkwardly chuckle along.

"Sorry, not to be rude but I actually had a meeting with the Commander.."

"Oh, of course. I was just asked to give you this." She holds out a folded piece of paper.

"Who is this from?" You ask unfolding it.

"GCFD, her name was Allison. She was on the crew that helped you and Officer Kimble with the attack. Guess she wanted to check in on you."

You look over the paper and see a phone number.

"Oh.." You say quietly. "Thank you for passing this along."

"My pleasure." She chirps before turning on a heel and heading back to the front desk.

You look down at the paper again and stuff it into your pocket. Women should be the last thing on your mind right now. You turn and beeline for Hawthorne who gives you a stiff nod and passes you a copy of the Training Officer Transfer document signed by Gordon.

"You give it some thought?"

"Yeah.."

"And?"

>"We're giving the Commander full transparency. We respect the chain of command."
>"We keep the real reason to ourselves, if he asks I just had a personal favor with Gordon and I used it."
>Write-In

>>6054201
>>"We're giving the Commander full transparency. We respect the chain of command."

>>6054201
>"We're giving the Commander full transparency. We respect the chain of command."

>>6054201
>"We're giving the Commander full transparency. We respect the chain of command."
Reiner hasn't given us cause to doubt him yet. He's a hardass, but he has to be with his job

>>6054201
>"We're giving the Commander full transparency. We respect the chain of command."

>>6054201
QM desperately trying to get us a girl but our autistic pursuit of justice prevents it
>>"We're giving the Commander full transparency. We respect the chain of command."

>>6054354
Verily, our one true love will hand us a cup of just finished ice cold soda

>>6054201
>"We're giving the Commander full transparency. We respect the chain of command."
If Hawthorne isn't worried, no reason we should be. He has more to lose right now. Plus, we're a little out-of-it right now.

>>6054204
>>6054208
>>6054229
>>6054281
>>6054354
>>6054361
>>6054580

"We're giving the Commander full transparency. We respect the chain of command."

Hawthorne just nods and turns to face the door. He tries to hide it but as he speaks you can see the edges of a proud smile on his cheeks.

"If that's how you want to play it, Rook. Let's bite the bullet."

He pushes the door and the fluorescent lights of the bullpen flood the dim office. Commander Reiner sits at his desk, a pair of wire frame reading glasses in one hand and a steaming cup of coffee in the other as he looks over some sort of sheet. He holds up a hand to the light and waves you in.

"If you're going to interrupt my morning, commit to it, come in." He groans as he sips from the mug.

You both step in and the room is once again enveloped in dim light, a corner lamp giving the room a faint orange glow. Hawthorne nods to an opened box of antacids and headache medicine.

"Long night?"

"It was a long night two days ago, pretty sure I've got ulcers big enough to pass coins through at this point." The Commander replies before a lengthy swig of his coffee.

"I'm sure the coffee is helping.."

"You're pussyfooting, Sergeant." He accentuates his point by letting his mug clunk against the desk. He spreads his hands and leans back. "What do you need from me?"

Hawthorne nods to you and you step forward and set the copy of the transfer form on his desk. He leans forward and looks it over, you notice his jaw start to grind.

"You went over my head?" He asks Hawthorne.

"Sir, we-" You start.

"Officer DeLucia, did I address you?" He says with a cold calmness.

"No, sir."

"Then if you want to remain in my precinct you will stay quiet until I get to you."

You put your hands behind your back and tuck your chin. An old habit from the Academy.

"Yes, sir. But not for the transfer."

"You have five minutes to explain then, Sergeant, and God help you if I don't like your answer." Reiner taps the paper firmly.

"As you're aware, I was injured at the event yesterday, an individual held me at knife point and told me that Mandragora would be released by the end of the week or I'd be killed along with the main team responsible for the sting."

Reiner remains silent but his eyes are laser focused on Hawthorne.

"I met with Ma-, Officer DeLucia afterwards and we discussed who we think could be responsible."

"And what conclusions did you draw, Detectives?"

"I believe Officer DeLucia would be able to better explain, sir."

Reiner turns his eyes to you and motions for you to step forward.
"Three minutes, Officer. You and the Sergeant share the clock."

You take a brief moment to compose yourself, still your nerves, and call back on your memory.

"Sir, I've been witness to strange occurrences in the precinct. Most recently I've had it confirmed by an anonymous source that there is a mole within our department."

Reiner's eyes widen and you see a slow red creeping up his neck and to his face.

He turns the half tiled blinds fully closed and checks to make sure the door is fully locked before walking back to his desk and sitting.

"I assume that's how you got Gordon to go through with this?" He asks, once again tapping the transfer form.

You take a breath and recount your meeting with the Commissioner. You can't help but see Reiner's disappointment as you repeat that you took no official record, a source you can't reveal, and most of all that something may have been happening right under his nose.

"So you're accusing Detective Gorchakov of working as a mole for Mandragora?"

"Yes, sir.. I wouldn't make these accusations without a good reason."

"As far as the LAW is concerned, you have no reasons. You recorded nothing. You have no sworn statements. You have no physical evidence of any kind. Am I missing anything?"

You tuck your chin and flex your fingers nervously. You hadn't felt like this you first told Hawthorne everything that night. It feels so long ago now.. a sudden slam makes you jolt. You look up and see Reiner's fist with a speckling of coffee on it.

"Did it go to your head when I said I was betting on you, Officer?"

"No, si-"

"I think it may have, because you seem to have some sort of delusion that you can reinvent the wheel, I mean you must because otherwise the only explanation would be incompetence on a level I've never seen before."

"Sir, he's still-" Hawthorne tries to interject but another bang, this time a flat palm, cuts him off.

"Sergeant. Do not think I am laying this blame on him. As his training officer you had a duty to train this young man, to teach him the ways of the GCPD, and to instill in him a RESPECT for the chain of command and for the authority he holds over the citizens of this city."

"Yes, sir."

"Instead, you two are galivanting around my city as the Hardy Boys. So forgive me if I don't take pity on the Officer for being 'new to this' when it was YOUR job to make sure he adapted and followed the book. What did I tell you when I agreed to let you sign on for the T.O. program?"

"You said to make sure I followed proper protocol."

"To. The. Letter. I said. To the fucking letter, Sergeant."

Reiner sits from his raised position and puts a hand over his face. A few moments of tense silence follow as he breathes slowly, eventually he looks up and locks eyes with you, you feel a tightening in your chest. The corners of your eyes burn. An image appears in your mind against your will, a young boy with dark hair and goofy grin, you feel.. grief.

"Sit down, both of you." Reiner says, softly now. His voice slightly hoarse.

You both oblige and he leans forward sliding the paper back to you.
"Officer DeLucia, when we talked last I told you that nobody tells me how to handle my officers unless.."

"Unless their name was Gordon."

"Exactly. Gordon believed in your story enough to give you a fair shot at this and I respect the man enough to go along with his idea. But.."

You brace yourself.

"But this little investigation you two have gotten yourselves into. It's a slap in the face, you understand how this comes across don't you?"

"I never meant to disrespect you, sir."

"It's not me. It's the system. If an Officer doesn't trust the system he serves to properly seek out justice then what's the point in you even wearing that badge?"

You look down to the brass shield and consider his words carefully, was he right? Did you do this out of a lack of faith in your own department.

"Did you not trust me? I'm really trying to understand here boys."

"Gordon and I go back, sir. DeLucia also had a.. moment with him. We thought we would have an easier time convincing him to help us get that file." Hawthorne replies steadily.

Reiner hits his trademark eyebrow raise.

"Well, at least it was just pragmatism." He says sarcastically.

"More than that, sir. If we asked you to make that call, to pull the file for us without authorization it could have put your job in jeopardy. But Gordon is a legend, even if this got out.."

"He'd be fine but you'd be toast?"

"Something like that, sir."

"I appreciate the sentiment but I employ Police Officers, not martyrs. I expect anyone under my command to not only bring something like this to my attention but to do it promptly and with proper evidence to back it up. It's embarrassing to be a Commander and not know what's going on directly under you, and I apologize for losing my temper with you two. I'm just as angry with myself as I am with you."

Reiner grabs his cup and sips as his free hand taps his desk.
"I want to talk solutions. You claimed Officer Banks was involved and you plan on getting his cooperation. You plan to use the file you 'acquired' to set a suspect pool for Hawthorne's assault."

"Yes, sir."

"What are your moves after that? Have you thought ahead?"

"We check the Officer listings for the day and run em down. Check for connections with Gorchakov or outside criminal elements. As far as Banks goes, I doubt his help will be hard to get." You reply confidently.

"Ratting on another Officer, even a dirty one, is going to get him some cold shoulders. It could completely ice him out."

You bite your inner cheek and nod.
"I know, sir. But I also know Banks is dedicated to serving the department and the city. He won't walk away from this."

Reiner sighs deeply and folds his hands, he retreats into deep thought for a few seconds before nodding and looking to you again.

"Officer DeLucia, Sergeant Hawthorne. I want to make this perfectly clear, I want this case to be a slam dunk. I'm talking flawless, I don't want so much as a drop of ink out of place on your paperwork. I'm warning you that I won't hesitate to kill your career before it starts, and end yours before your pension kicks in. I know Gordon basically told you he'd do the same but my conditions are stricter, and they will remain strict until I have the feeling I can trust the men serving under me again. Are we clear?"

"Yes, sir." You and Hawthorne speak in unison.

"Furthermore, even if you walk the line without a stumble there are still punishments for going around the Chain of Command. Officer DeLucia, when the Sergeant was injured we discussed how if you remained under him that your timetable for graduation into full blown Officer would shift?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Consider it shifted, your graduation will be pushed a full month and you spend that month learning the GCPD Ethics Guidelines front and back. Upon completion of a written exam you will earn your right to walk the beat as a full fledged Officer."

You consider saying something but bite your tongue. You simply nod.

"Sergeant Hawthorne, I know being so close to retirement you think I may not have much I can do to you but I am a sick and twisted individual with quite the imagination. I'll spend the time you take concluding this issue to think of an appropriate punishment, but I can promise you that there will be a second review of your training of Officer DeLucia and if I don't like what I see your punishment will BEGIN with your Sergeant rank being stripped from you. I don't need to tell you that would put quite the dent in your pension, so I recommend you make sure your rookie crosses every T and dots every i."

"Yes, sir." Hawthorne speaks in a low grumble.

"Until the time that this case is resolved you are both relieved of your patrols, you are also barred from Department events, and all requests for time off are pre-emptively denied. So as to not divide your attention. I trust this serves to show you both how serious I am. You're both dismissed, unless there's anything else."

>"I'm sorry for breaking your trust, sir. You stuck your neck out for me and I'm not going to rest until I prove you made the right decision."
>"Thank you, sir. For letting us continue with this case, I promise we'll nail this mole to the wall."
>"That's unfair, you can't demote Hawthorne just because of my mistakes. Please reconsider."
>Leave without another word.
>Write-In

>>6054826
>"Thank you, sir. For letting us continue with this case, I promise we'll nail this mole to the wall."
On the bright side, we didn't get fired!

>>6054826
>"Thank you, sir. For letting us continue with this case, I promise we'll nail this mole to the wall."
Rainer was the good boss after all

>>6054826
>"Thank you, sir. For letting us continue with this case, I promise we'll nail this mole to the wall."

>>6054826
>"Thank you, sir. For letting us continue with this case, I promise we'll nail this mole to the wall."

>>6054826
>>"Thank you, sir. For letting us continue with this case, I promise we'll nail this mole to the wall."

>>6054826
>"Thank you, sir. For letting us continue with this case, I promise we'll nail this mole to the wall."

>>6054829
To also be fair, if we weren't reamed for going over his head for such a banal reason, it'd be even more suspicious.

Gorbochev ideally would think this is more linked to SIM bullshit than him

>>6054826
>>"Thank you, sir. For letting us continue with this case, I promise we'll nail this mole to the wall."

>>6054829
>>6054881
>>6054928
>>6055020
>>6055236
>>6055395
>>6055503

Before stepping back into the glowing hum of the bullpen you turn to the Commander once more.

"Thank you, sir. For letting us continue with this case, I promise we'll nail this mole to the wall."

"Thank me by doing what I've asked." He says without lifting his eyes from his mug as he takes another swig.

"Yes, sir." You say quietly, leaving with Hawthorne.

You close the door behind you and you both give each other a look.

"Could have gone worse." Hawthorne says with a shrug.

"It was the right thing."

"Damn straight, rook. You did good."

"Now we just have to talk to Kimble, should be easier."

====

You step into the 'War Room', slightly thrown off by it's current state. Grey's corkboard and various images are absent, so are the stacks of files, and the wire trashcan once perpetually full of fast food and two dollar coffee is now neat and tidy. Kimble slaps a cardboard lid on a file box, one of many covering the table, and seals the crease with thick tape.

"Bit chilly for spring cleaning." Hawthorne chuckles.

"Word from the Commander, lawyers are already circling the sting like vultures. All the files are being sealed and locked up until discovery gets off the ground. You know how it is."

"Egg heads.." Hawthorne mumbles as he steps aside to help gather boxes.

"What's got you both in so early?"

"Had to have a talk with the Commander, you too actually." You say handing him the sheet.

"Oh?"

"No more secrets, we followed up on meeting with Gordon. He agreed to pass us the files and support our investigation."

"I'm guessing this is part of a 'but' that's coming up?" Kimble replies with a backhanded tap of his hand.

"Mhm. He's going hands off, we're on our own until we get enough solid evidence for an arrest. If we get caught.." You drag a thumb across your throat and Kimble scoffs.

"Never knew Gordon to be a ruthless bastard."

"Watch yourself, Gordon is doing what he's gotta to keep the machine oiled up. He can't let the entire thing breakdown because two cogs got jammed up." Hawthorne speaks with barely any strain as he waddles a stack of three boxes to the door.

"Yeah, well.." Kimble frowns and hands the paper back to you. "Can't say I won't miss the company. But I get it."

"We're good then?" You ask offering a hand.

"Of course." He replies, grasping your hand tightly. But something behind his eyes begs you to question..

"Is everything alright?"

"It's nothing just.." Kimble hems and haws.

"You've got the kid chanting 'No more secrets' like he's in a cult, Luke. Spit it out." Hawthorne gripes as he leans against the door.

"I got a bad feeling in my gut, about Banks."

"What about him?" You ask, all your focus locking in on Kimble and his words.

"I got to catch up with him after the shitshow yesterday. He was quiet, real quiet, and had this look in his eye. Reminded me of Guerrero.

Your mind flashes back to the twisted metal of a wreck.

"Shit.." You whisper.

"Yeah." Kimble returns your low tone. "I was gonna talk to him more today but he put in for some sick days, after yesterday there was no way he'd be told no. He's off for the rest of the week."

"Fuck. That's really not good, I need to talk to him."

"About?"

"Gordon wants him as a CI."

"What!?" Kimble's voice hits sharp and he catches himself.

Hawthorne opens the door and lifts his stack of boxes before taking small steps out into the bullpen as he calls over his shoulder.

"Sorry, Kimble. That's just the way it is." He says the words with extra bass in his voice, giving Kimble a glare that could freeze water.

The eyes of the pen follow Hawthorne as he walks off and the door clicks softly, sealing you two in the war room once again.

"Fuck.. sorry. But are you insane? This is going to kill his career."

"Everyone keeps saying that, but Gorchakov is a fucking mole." You speak the final words in an intense whisper.

"Mole or not, everyone colors outside the lines. You're no exception, you report another Officer for something like this and it doesn't matter what he did, nobody is going to trust someone who turned in another Officer."

"That's not right.. he's doing his job."

"I'm not saying it's right, but be real, the rumor mill is going to grind his reputation into dust. Fuck." He wipes his face and shakes his head.

"I don't think there's another way, Kimble. We need him to get Gorchakov, he was made an accomplice. He deserves the chance to set that right."

"You're right.." Kimble says exasperated. "I'm just saying, don't be surprised if this is a harder sell than you think. Don't think it's one and done either, every day from him signing that paper to getting on the stand he's going to be rethinking his decision."

"I don't think you're giving Banks enough credit."

"I don't know. Banks was my rookie and I thought I had a grasp on him, but the guy who came out of the alley that night isn't the same person. Nobody could be after something like that."

The scent of burning diesel and gunpowder floats by you.

"Then it's up to us to make sure he doesn't lose himself, if we can put all this to bed maybe it'll help him. Cause he KNOWS Gorchakov is up to something. This is his chance-"

The door opens and you both whip your heads to see Hawthorne reentering.

"Glad you boys learned to keep your voices down. Kimble, the entire station thinks you're pissed about me stealing my rookie back so play into it."

"Heard." Kimble says quietly, his eyes still distant as he thinks. He glances at you. "You're right, by the way, I know you are. I just know it's going to suck for the guy."

"We'll still be here for him, he won't be completely iced out."

"Hmph, Yeah I guess so.." He scoops a file box into his arms and gives you a nod, stepping past you to leave the room.

As Kimble nudges the door he suddenly talks over his shoulder.

"Oh, Boot. About your friends?"

"Yeah?"

"They're good people." He says simply before leaving.

Hawthorne sighs and raises his eyebrows.

"Honestly, I expected him to be heated."

"Over the transfer?"

"That and Captain No-Face's attitude."

"He was actually a lot more cooperative this time around."

"Of course he was, kid always gets to em after I've softened em up." Hawthorne grumbles as he collapses into an office chair and sets a familiar file down.

"What are you doing?"

"What do you think? We got the jawing squared away and now it's time to get to work."

Hawthorne opens the file and licks a finger as he peels back the GCPD Cover Sheet. Red bold letters reading 'INTERNAL USE ONLY' adorn the bone white paper.

>"You can get started, but I have something else I need to take care of. Banks took the day and I need him to sign up for CI."
>"Not yet, we start that now and we get side tracked. We need Banks on-board first."
>"No better time than now, the more evidence we have against Gorchakov the better our chances of convincing Banks."
>Write-In

A lot of chatting these past couple of days, let me know how you guys are feeling about the pace of everything right now, I can try to speed it up a little if things are going too slowly for people's liking. Just lemme know.

Other than that I also have a question for you guys since we completed our first real 'Arc' with the conclusion of The Sting:

What are your thoughts on the Sting? Mainly, do you feel like the end result was rewarding as a 'Detective' experience? Putting the pieces together and a lot of prep went into it and how well it turned out was due to your guys' decisions. So I'd like to hear your opinions on that section of the quest specifically if you'd indulge me.

>>6055654
I'd have more notes to give if I wasn't fried at the moment. Sidenote, do we have Banks' number?

>>6055654
>"No better time than now, the more evidence we have against Gorchakov the better our chances of convincing Banks."

>>6055654
>"No better time than now, the more evidence we have against Gorchakov the better our chances of convincing Banks."
We need this open and shut. Airtight. Flawless. You heard Gordon and you heard Reiner. The more we perform autistic prep work and checking, our chances of any fuckups will hit 0%. We need that 0% or we're dead.

Pace is fine QM, we have a 1 week deadline and plenty of buildup.
Sting was great, I can't believe it went as flawless as it did. Detective work was great with the IEDs and the links found to Calc. It still doesn't feel like we're done with a major arc yet like you assume we are, QM, because there's still this Mandragora green light and SIM and the mole. It feels to me we are about 2/3 done with the major arc, but that can change.

>>6055712
Probably would have been more accurate to say you reached your first major milestone, rather than having completed an arc. More of a finale to Act 1 situation (at least that's how I have it organized in my notes)

Thank you for the feedback, anon.

>>6055654
>"No better time than now, the more evidence we have against Gorchakov the better our chances of convincing Banks."

As for pacing and major events, The Sting was was a big one, but bringing down Firebug was honestly the bigger deal to me personally.

>>6055654
>>"No better time than now, the more evidence we have against Gorchakov the better our chances of convincing Banks."

>>6055712
We also have zero fucking clue about who Calc is, despite hearing about him all the way in thread one.

He’s a devious motherfucker who has somehow bent all of Gotham’s psychopaths to his will. And we don’t even know if he’s real yet.

>>6056021
We figured out he's The Calculator, anon. He's a documented supervillain. Remember Kal Q. Late?

>>6056039
I flunked out of geometry, mang.

>>6056048
Guess the only wizardry this anon is aiming for is the 30 year old kind KEK

>>6055689
>>6055712
>>6055862
>>6055747

"No better time than now, the more evidence we have against Gorchakov the better our chances of convincing Banks."

You pull up a chair and drop in, taking a moment to stretch and get comfortable, Hawthorne slides it just between you both and flips the first page. Slowly you comb the names, plenty of them mean nothing to you, as you go along Hawthorne jots a few down on a fresh sheet. You notice he has them separated into three tiers.

Up first:
'Johnny Malone'
'Liam Henrick'
'Michael Tweele'

"Are the names your main suspects?" You ask.

"Closest thing to em, I've been around for a minute and Greys always been nosy so I get to hear plenty. These guys are.. let's say known entities in the department. Excessive force complaints, a shady case here and there, nothing heavy enough to get the union to turn on em but enough that command is more comfortable keeping them on low risk assignments."

"Right.." You mumble as your eyes continue to scan the list, darting to tier two of Hawthorne's list.

'Dan Gallagher'
'Albert Bunko'
'Todd Corrinth'

"Hold on, Bunko? Why are you putting his name down?"

Hawthorne's face sinks and he shakes his head.

"I don't like it but it's my system, this group are people I think could be blackmailed or buttered up into doing something."

"But Bunko.."

"Al has a gambling issue, every couple months he takes a couple days of paid time off to go to Atlantic City and he always comes back begging everyone around here for some OT."

"Sure but I mean, putting a knife to your throat? Do you really think he's capable of that?"

"Our feelings can't get in the way, rook. He is someone who could be compromised, he has kids and alimony, it's like I told you when I taught you interrogation: everyone breaks eventually if you know where to push.."

You frown but know what he's saying is true. You sigh and try to switch the topic away from suspects in your own station.

"So, you have a whole system for this already? Did you come up with it last night."

"Not the first mole hunt the GCPD's done, and unlike most of the jokers out there I was around before AND after the biggest one. Gordon ripped dirty cops out of this department by the short and curlies and I watched the entire thing."

Hawthorne writes a final name and turns the page, as it tilts from you a name catches your eye and you grab Hawthorne's wrist.

"Wait!'

"Christ, son. Use your words. What is it?"

You pull the page back down and press a finger against it..

"Vic Rogers?" Hawthorne repeats.

"He was the rookie that day we did our sparring match, the one who gave me that weird vision when he hit me."

Hawthorne grimaces as he remembers.
"Ah, the creep. You think he has something to do with this?"

"He's always given me a real bad feeling, gut feeling, but I haven't seen or heard anything concrete. It just.." You put your hand to your chin, your mind starting it's almost mechanical cycle.

"Well don't go mute on me, it's just what?"

"I wouldn't want to do that. Be a meter maid."

"Alright? But you would."

"Well yeah, because it's my job but you said yourself the only people signed up for this would be slackers or people being put there as punishment. What rookie would want to waste a day they could spend on the streets with something like this? Who was his TO again?"

"Yuri Miller, known him for a few years now. He's no stand out Officer, always kept his head down when he was coming up."

"Hmm.." You let the wheels work as you stare at the name and slowly a picture starts to click together. "This guy has been giving me a weird feeling for a while now, a bit back he tried getting me into a cold case involving Mandragora."

"Ah yeah, I remember now. It would make sense.. didn't our friend mention he had family in the department?"

"An uncle, yeah. He also seemed to have some friction with Gorchakov at Jimmy's place.." Your words trail off as pieces connect, you see the entire image and look to Hawthorne. "Why?"

"You're asking me?"

"No sorry, I mean why did he and Gorchakov have friction?"

"Cause he's a grade A asshole."

"That's what I thought too, I brushed it off. But he's a rookie in a totally different precinct, the chances he'd met Gorchakov enough times to have that kind of beef are low at best."

"Which means maybe that issue between them is one from outside of work.. But we have to keep in mind that Gorchakov is on that hot shot detective squad. They pluck cases from any precinct they want so the chances they met aren't zero and it doesn't take long before you start hating the prick."

"True but still.. I just have a feeling."

Hawthorne stares at you for a few moments and then closes the file. The movement breaks that familiar processing in your mind and you look up to him.

"What are you doing?"

"You remind me of Grey, when he was younger." Hawthorne says simply, his eyes betray a bittersweet sense of nostalgia. "One thing I learned from working with that Brainiac was to listen to your gut but reason with your head. If you have a feeling about this guy then I say we walk it down."

You consider arguing with Hawthorne but for weeks a voice in the back of your head has been nagging you, something about Rogers was.. off. You stand up and give Hawthorne a determined nod.

"What string do we yank first?" He asks.

>"The family angle, this Uncle of his could be something or at least could give us more of a read on him."
>"Maybe you could get in touch with Miller? Invite him out to a beer or something, see if he can give us any insight on his rookie."
>"We find out why he was at that event, if it was disciplinary then it makes him less suspicious. But if he volunteered for duty.."
>"We keep it simple, with Mandragora behind bars his organization has to be scrambling. We find him, tail him, and see what we see."
>"We clean our own house first, Bunko and other Officers from our department need to be cleared first before we go chasing a loose lead."
>Write-In

>>6056275
>>"We find out why he was at that event, if it was disciplinary then it makes him less suspicious. But if he volunteered for duty.."

>>6056275
>>"Maybe you could get in touch with Miller? Invite him out to a beer or something, see if he can give us any insight on his rookie."

>>6056275
>"We find out why he was at that event, if it was disciplinary then it makes him less suspicious. But if he volunteered for duty.."
SIM come on bro we need you to sell Gorchakov out

>>6056275
>>"We clean our own house first, Bunko and other Officers from our department need to be cleared first before we go chasing a loose lead."

>>6056275
>>"We clean our own house first, Bunko and other Officers from our department need to be cleared first before we go chasing a loose lead."

>>6056274
Changing my vote from >>6056303 to
>"We clean our own house first, Bunko and other Officers from our department need to be cleared first before we go chasing a loose lead."
I remembered what SIM and Firebug said. The rotten wood needs to be found first before we can get rid of it

>>6056307
>>6056317
>>6056331

"We clean our own house first, Bunko and other Officers from our department need to be cleared first before we go chasing a loose lead. Those two psychos said it too, apparently we have rotten foundations."

Hawthorne raises an eyebrow in surprise but nods.

"Makes sense to shore up the base before we start going out. We can start by seeing who here falls into our categories."

"Bunko first.." You mumble as you jot his name.

Slowly you and Hawthorne pluck names from the list. Hawthorne offers his take and you use what limited knowledge you have to offer your own. Slowly you manage to piece together a small list of candidates. As you and Hawthorne begin to discuss what you could subtly do to look into some of these names your phone buzzes. You check the screen and see a series of texts from Question.

'Officer, you requested help with a mole problem at your property. After a lengthy inspection over the past two days we have come to some conclusions:

It doesn't seem to be a lone vermin on your property, we expect two to three for the amount of holes we found on your grounds definitely from the same colony. Removal and Relocation could be lengthy. As for the species of mole we believe it must be one with particularly keen senses and powerful claws, due to the size of the holes and their proximity to natural resources on your property. Chances of the pest being in neighboring properties are likely although it would be no more than one, due to a lack of visible holes from street-side inspection. Be warned, we've observed aggression between members and even cases of cannibalism. The species appears highly aggressive.

Please contact us with how you'd like to move forward on this, we value you as a customer and look forward to hearing from you. We know you're on a limited timeframe so please get back to us quickly if you want to schedule a more thorough inspection."

Hawthorne reads over your shoulder and as you both conclude he sighs and shakes his head.

"What's wrong with this clown?"

"It's coded, he's just being careful."

"Does he know you have him saved as 'Q'? Or that you live in a damn apartment?"

"I didn't say he wasn't being a bit overly cautious..." You mumble. "Still, this is good. I asked him to look into anything he could about the mole and I guess this is as much as he could pick up."

"Quick little shit, I'll give him that. How do you reckon he found all this out?"

You both share a glance and silently agree it would be better to let that particular question go unanswered.

"If he's right we're looking for a small group Gorchakov has put together at the station...but why bring in Banks?"

"Seems simple to me, everything he asked Banks to get for him he could have gotten himself. But that opens him up to risk."

"So he brought in Banks to do it.. but why not ask the others? Unless. They don't have the same clearances as he does."

"They probably aren't too loyal to him, otherwise they'd do what Banks did, at the end of the day criminals are cowards. Even criminal cops."

"So you think they aren't even working for Mandragora specifically?"

"He was never a hands on type, he likes to keep himself insulated from this kind of thing. I'm guessing Gorchy is getting a stipend to keep them paid."

"What makes you think that over blackmail?"

"Again, if it was bad enough to get them to flip on the GCPD then it would be enough to force them to steal instead of having to trick Banks."

You sink into the chair as Hawthorne begins to pace, he lifts a blind and peers out before pulling back with a growl.

"So many Uni's and only a couple days.. We have to narrow our scope."

"I was thinking the same thing." You say quietly. "I'm just trying to think about how we can."

Hawthorne looks over his shoulder at you.

"I have an idea. We brought the Commander into this already, what harm could there be in asking a favor?"

"Now!? Isn't it a little.. I don't know. Soon?"

"He's pissed at us but you heard him, rook. He's just as mad at himself. I can request Gorchakov's department files, he also worked as a TO and had plenty of partners. My bet is that info will shorten our list by a hell of a lot."

You start to rise and he holds out a hand.

"Probably better to go to him alone, besides that text you just got is evidence. Get a Scene kit from the counter and let them know I'm requesting it out until further notice."

You sigh but nod. Hawthorne shakes his head.

"Don't get huffy yet, we have backlogging to do as well. We need a paper trail from start to finish on this." He grimaces but releases a reluctant smile. "Upside is I'll be there with you every step of the way. So you won't be suffering alone."

You smile back as he pops the door and lets in the chaos of the bullpen into the quiet room. As you gather files, being sure to keep them in proper order, you feel a pressure in your head. Slowly like an expanding bubble you feel it pressing from the base of your neck to the crown of your head, your balance goes and you jam an arm into the office table to keep on your feet as lights begin to streak and blend.

>Roll me 1d100

Mid of Three

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>6056864

File: rookandpawn.png (727 KB, 900x470)

727 KB PNG

Rolled 53 (1d100)

>>6056858
>but why bring in Banks?
Why indeed?
>>6056864
Rolling

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>6056864

>>6056865
>>6056866
>>6056874

ROLL: 44

Result: Pass(?)

I will be posting again sometime over my weekend. Unfortunately my time is being cut a little too close today for me to do the 2nd update. So I'll see you soon.

>>6056894
See you then, QM. Enjoy the weekend!

File: AngeloRobustelli.jpg (15 KB, 363x298)

15 KB JPG

>>6056865

A metallic taste wells in the corners of your mouth and you manage to slip into a chair as your ears ring and you feel an overwhelming surge of pain radiating out from the back of your head. You feel your lungs tighten and the familiar surge of adrenaline.

"Fucking brat..." A voice echoes in your head.

Your vision dims at the edges and your head surges and swims. You feel the pinching heat of your clenched fists and a familiar bubble of molten anger in your gut.

Then just as suddenly as it came it fades away. The throbbing pain subsides and you're muscles relax, leaving you draped over the office chair like a sheet. The voice lingers in your head, pulling at the stem of your brain, so familiar. You close your eyes and let the natural fading of the pain and adrenaline bring your mind into slow focus. That voice.. You let out a slow breath trying to push everything but the thought of what you just heard and after a few seconds it clicks.

That voice, you'd heard it before, Angelo. Your hair bristles at the memory of when you had heard him last. There was no doubt it was him, but why now? You chance opening your eyes and the sting is far from what you were expecting, unfortunately it seems you're getting used to this feeling. You lean forward and feel as if you'll topple, your head heavy like a concrete block, but you force yourself to stand.

The door clicks open and Hawthorne enters with a small stack of loose paper, seeing your face his eyebrows knit tightly and he rapidly steps forward to offer you a hand.

"Jesus Christ, Rook." He says as you wave him away, your balance returning to you. "You look pale as a ghost."

"I got something from Shivers." You say, weaker than you intended.

"You're giving me shivers, sit down for God's sake."

"No.. it feels better to stand, to move around a bit." You blink a few times to get the last remnants of this sting to dissipate. "It felt like I took a haymaker right to the jaw, the back of my head started burning, and I was.. really pissed. Furious."

You break free from your own recollection and notice now the true concern in Hawthorne's eyes as he looks over you. You do your best to muster a grin.

"I'm fine, sir. It just caught me off guard is all."

"Uh-huh.." Hawthorne mutters, unconvinced. You glance down to the papers in his hand and nod.

"What'd you dig up?"

"Turns out Gorchakov only had two partners here before he got assigned one for Vice."

"Sounds about right for the two or three that Question thought it could be."

"Yeah well, we could still be up short. His first partner: Derek Gavin Free. He was killed in the line and it was.. messy."

"Shit. You think Gorchakov.."

Hawthorne gently sets a printed image down, a room with not much other than concrete, tools, and sets of rusty pipes. The floor is littered with at least five bodies and a large dark pool of blood.

"Gorchakov and Free responded to an anonymous tip about someone who thought they saw a drug deal. They declare arrived on scene at 8:55pm. By 10:02 another call goes out through the radio of an Officer down, multiple casualties and a call for a bus."

"Free was the officer down, I'm guessing."

Hawthorne snaps and points.

"Exactly. But more than that, Gorchakov was the only survivor. Seven people in a room all firing at each other and he gets out with a graze on his thigh and a face primed for the front page. Whole thing stunk though, his partner had been shot in the back, Gordon even looked into it."

"What was off?"

"Free was killed in a burst. A line of nine mil rounds that punctured both lungs, poor bastard choked to death if the shock didn't put him out first. Official report is when they entered the room there was a buy in progress but it was weapons instead of drugs, someone went for one of the pieces on display and he got caught first. After that it's "Hazy, all I really remember is pointing my weapon and firing until my mag ran dry. When the noise finally stopped Officer Free and I were wounded but otherwise still able-bodied. I attempted to call in the incident via hand radio but found the signal blocked. In a moment of, admittedly, poor judgement I went to exit the room to use my vehicle's radio. I turned back to instruct Free to gather weapons and check the condition of the suspects, it was at that point I saw a suspect raise an Uzi and fire into Officer Free's back, striking him multiple times in the back before succumbing to his wounds. I made the call to dispatch for an ambulance and back up before going back in and trying to stabilize Officer Free. My attempts to resuscitate were unsuccessful." Those are the exact words from the report."

"I can see why Gordon was interested. A space this small with fully automatic weapons.. there are only two outcomes that make much sense. Everyone dying or just the Officers.."

"The biggest niggle I had with the situation was this: I worked for years on narcotics and never once did we see a buy without a doorman."

"A doorman?"

"A lookout. Didn't matter if you were slinging 8 Balls or Oregano, you always had someone on the lookout for cops.. or Batman. But these clowns are trading high powered weapons in broad daylight?"

"You said it was looked into, I'm guessing that means they didn't find anything."

"Plenty of questions, but nothing solid enough to stick Gorchakov with anything. Add that to the press tour he ran on in the papers and.." Hawthorne let's the sentence trail off with disgust.

"Politics." You say hollowly. Hawthorne nods in agreement.

"We do have one partner of his above ground though, they split when Gorchakov got the call to join the Detective's Club. Apparently they were inseparable when they worked the beat for Gangland. If anyone knows what side projects he has going on it would be him."

"What are the odds he'd just work with us?" You ask hopefully.

"Not good. Ashley Kent, apparently goes by Ash. Officer for six years. Partnered with Gorchakov for three following Gorchy's transfer into gangland. Month or so after they broke up he ends up serving a suspension without pay. He's still in the department but he was transferred back to metro and has been riding pine ever since."

"For?"

"He tried picking up a hooker outside the narrows. Hooker turned out to be a UC."

"Wait.. doesn't gangland handle the UCs?"

"For the most part, definitely handle the ones going out as working girls. Escorts are more of White Collar's ballpark."

"So there's a chance this wasn't random?"

"He's a scumbag, but we'll be hard pressed proving Gorchakov made the guy go out to cruise for strange, Mark."

"No, I mean if you knew your former partner had a soft spot for working girls.."

"Wouldn't be hard to set the bait and wait it out." Hawthorne puts the pieces together with a scowl.

"But why?" You ask quietly.

"Maybe we should ask, Reiner gave me active addresses for Kent and for the next of kin for Free. We got nothing but time.. for a bit."

>"Let's hit the partner. If Gorchakov fucked him over it could make for a simpler flip."
>"The next of kin, nobody is more invested in solving a murder than family. Maybe they have some information we could go off of."
>"Is the address for that crime scene listed? Maybe I could use Shivers to see what really happened that night."
>Write-In