Caesar looks at you with a sigh, a silent request for you to chime in…

>"If you're really just worried about making money it's hard to argue with something like dock work. It isn't glamorous but you don't need to do it forever. Just until you save up enough to get into a local school.
>"GCPD is always looking for new officers, they'll even sponsor you for a criminal justice degree. They have a list of approved degrees, I could pick one up for you."
>"Sports scholarships are a real possibility, you could join your school team or one of the under 18 AM leagues. You should go for it and see what you feel like pursuing AFTER you get into a school."
>Give him a subtle shake of the head. You're not getting in between on this.
>Write-In (Encouraged)

>>6351455
>Write-In (Encouraged)
"Well... GCPD is always looking hard for new officers, and the department will sponsor you for a criminal justice degree. She says you're always drawing, yeah? Maybe a leap, but have you considered becoming a police sketch artist? Better than patrolling a beat, safer, but it can still be life-saving work. I... Well, I've had a good run lately and there are some folks up the chain that I think would listen if I put in a word. I think you could be great."

>>6351520
+1?

>>6351520
+1
We can take him on a ride along sometime if he wants. Sit him down with Hawthorn or Kimble as well.

>>6351455
>"GCPD is always looking for new officers, they'll even sponsor you for a criminal justice degree. They have a list of approved degrees, I could pick one up for you."

>>6351520 is good, too, as an addendum.

>>6351455
>"GCPD is always looking for new officers, they'll even sponsor you for a criminal justice degree. They have a list of approved degrees, I could pick one up for you."

Also agreeing with the police sketch artist idea, and adding in courtroom sketch artist for good measure. SigInt could also be an option, if that's the dudes who sit in the disguised vans listening in on wiretapped phone lines or hanging out with Oracle.

>>6351560
Good point. If the GCPD is willing to sponsor a degree, he could be anything from a beat officer to an IT specialist. There’s no need for him to be a Capital C Cop just cause he joins GCPD.

That being said, the kid’s a fighter. He’s gonna want to mix it up.

>>6351455
>>"Sports scholarships are a real possibility, you could join your school team or one of the under 18 AM leagues. You should go for it and see what you feel like pursuing AFTER you get into a school."

>>6351638
Yeah, my thinking with sketch artist was:
>All cops are constantly recruiting because all departments are understaffed
>This guy is apparently 'always drawing' and into art
>His mom is right there, and if I were a parent in GOTHAM I would NOT want my child to be a police officer????
I mean it's a hard sell IRL, can't imagine it'd be easy to bring someone in when they might be expected to contend with *checks notes* Scarecrow, Calculator, Hatter, Firefly.... Scream Queen... Joker, Bane, Freeze, Ivy, Croc, Grundy, Court of Owls, League of Shadows, etc etc etc
I think if he gets in the mix and decides he is up to the risks and challenge of being a Real Cop that would be cool, but I know a Gotham sketch artist can absolutely save lives.

>>6351520
>>6351539
>>6351546
>>6351553
>>6351560

"Well... GCPD is always looking hard for new officers, and the department will sponsor you for a criminal justice degree. She says you're always drawing, yeah?"

"Used to." He says with a shrug.

"Maybe a leap, but have you considered becoming a police sketch artist? Better than patrolling a beat, safer, but it can still be life-saving work."

"They just hire people for that?"

"I... Well, I've had a good run lately and there are some folks up the chain that I think would listen if I put in a word. I think you could be great. You'd also get to learn some other skills like interviewing."

"What? Like for jobs?"

"No, like knowing the questions to ask. Knowing when to press and when to go easy, being good at art is just a start."

"Is it hard?" Isabelle asks.

"For some people." You answer. "We only have two artists for all our precincts, the tests aren't super easy but if you can secure a contract to be the main sketch artist for one of the departments?"

You rub your fingers together and raise a brow. It gets a laugh from Izzy and a smirk out of Caesar, it helps ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Conversation flows a little easier from there, Bianca bringing up stories of Caesar's multiple career choices as he grew up ranging from cowboy to pilot and more. Izzy gleefully explains her plan of becoming a 'cat doctor' and has more than a little to say on how exactly that differs from being a vet. You find yourself smiling and laughing, getting lost in good company and a truly delicious meal. Bianca shares some stories about her life with Val before the kids, she tells Caesar about her hometown that was just a bit outside of Campeche. She tells you how she learned English from her father who only learned it so he could follow baseball games over the radio.

Before you know it, Bianca has taken Izzy away to prepare for bed and you're left helping Caesar rinse the dishes and load them into a small washer.

"So, saw two of your friends on Halloween." You say, passing a plate off to him.

"Friends?"

"Yeah dumb and dumber, the brothers."

"Ohhh, those fools." He scoffs. "They stupid as hell, D."

"Trust me, I know. One of em tried to grab my gun while I was dealing with a suspect."

"Shit. You handle it?"

"I punched him in the mouth." You say casually.

"Oh shit, D! That's some gangster shit."

"He was a string bean and a teenager. Also it isn't gangster, I shouldn't have had to do that. But I let myself get distracted cause of the..." You trail off, something clicking in your head. "Caesar?"

"Whaddup?" He asks, planting a cup in the washer.

"You kinda had a role in Anarky right? I mean you had your little... crew. Or whatever."

"Shit, kinda is right... they only..." He pauses for a moment and checks over his shoulder. "If I tell you some stuff, is that like... covered under statue of limitations?"

"Statute." You correct gently. "And honestly, I'm not interested in getting you in trouble with the law. Obviously."

He sort of bounces in place and looks over his shoulder again with a concerned look.

"I'm not gonna tell your mom either." You sigh.

"Word, so do you remember when Dent was running for re-election? He put up them posters all over Gotham with him looking all serious an shit, like a general." He launches into the story in a whispered flurry.

"Yeah? I think I do but they we- Caesar... that was you?"

Caesar nods. Something like pride twinkles in his eye as he keeps the volume low.

"Yeah. That was me, it got me big street cred."

"Changing 'Harvey Dent' into 'Hairy Cunt' on some posters got you cred?"

"People hate The Man. No offense."

"Yeah, none taken. So what? Anarky approached you after that?"

"Not really, Bass Head lived at that orphanage and it had a lot of Anarky dudes there. He was kinda like... kinda like Izzy, y'know? 'Cept he didn't talk as much. I'd take the bus there and help him sneak out, I'd teach him how to tag and how to draw."

"So they approached you there?"

"I dunno about 'approached' but a guy hit me up while I was lifting some new cans. He was nice, I guess. Paid for my shit instead of me stealing it. Talked a lot about a revolution or whatever, said he liked my artist name."

"Czar."

"Yeah. Said it was dope, said I could be doing a lot more for the cause or whatever the fuck. But I was sold soon as he told me that there'd be money in it. Told him I'd do it, he introduced me to the two dudes and Bass Head just followed me into it." He stops for a moment after that and frowns. That pride being replaced by something that looks like shame. "He's good right? The lady you set him up with, she takes care of him right?"

"I'm pretty sure he's living better than me." You comment.

"Good man. Good."

"So you weren't fully IN, but those two were?"

"Yeah, they told me about this house show they went to. Like a band in a basement type of thing. That's where they got in, some place outside the college."

You had been having such a nice evening that it hadn't even occurred to you that your police brain had switched off. But the moment you hear that, there's a faint click. Gotham University, if it's not the core of this Anarky business it's at least a hub. A big one.

"Caesar... how much do you know about where they went? An address or maybe the name of the person who owned the house?"

"They just called it 'Greasy Street' or something like that." He says with a shrug. "But I also went to a few meetings, well not really meetings it was like a party in a parking lot. But I saw faces, the dude who got me in talking to a couple others. One dude was Mexican but like, preppy and the other one was a real fine chick with one of those haircuts with the shaved side and everything. I could go with you to the school and point em out!"

"What?" You say on reflex as you're broken out of a thought. "That's not necessary."

"No offense, D. But you're a bit old to be walking around a college on the low. They'll sniff you out as a pi-olice officer quick." He says. "Plus, if I help like solve a crime won't that make it easier to like apply to the police station and stuff? I could help you on some undercover type shit, D!"

>"Absolutely not, no offense Caesar but this is a dangerous situation. You know that already, you just gotta focus on helping out your mom and leave the police work to the police officers."
>"I appreciate the offer but, we've got enough probable cause to go to the college out and open. No undercover work this time."
>"I'm pretty sure I'd be fired before I could get the sales pitch out, Caesar. Sorry but the GCPD isn't gonna let a kid into harm's way even if it would help."
>"They'd never approve it, too much risk in your going to campus... but maybe we could work another angle. We could photograph our perps, show you a book and let you finger anyone you recognize as anarchy. Help separate the wheat from the chaff."
>"They'd never approve it, so that means if we did do it that it'd be off the books and quiet. They don't know we're coming yet but that could change as soon as word about the lab gets out. Just sightseeing and you pointing a few people out to me. That's it."
>Write-In

>>6351796
>"They'd never approve it, too much risk in your going to campus... but maybe we could work another angle. We could photograph our perps, show you a book and let you finger anyone you recognize as anarchy. Help separate the wheat from the chaff."
I feel like this is a fair compromise. Caesar wants to help, and this would let him do exactly that. Besides, we've got a bit of free time to ourselves. Might as well put in some legwork and see if we can set the investigators up for success.
We should definitely hit up Commander Reiner about this beforehand though. I'd rather not do this off the books and have it bite us in the ass again.

>>6351812
If we were going official and these are students their mugshot for their ID should be on file.

>>6351812
+1
We learned our lesson. We do it on the books

>>6351796
>"They'd never approve it, too much risk in your going to campus... but maybe we could work another angle. We could photograph our perps, show you a book and let you finger anyone you recognize as anarchy. Help separate the wheat from the chaff."
As the other anon said, we can just go to the school admin and ask for a copy of the image files used for student IDs, then filter it down to a manageable number and go through them with the kid.

>>6351796
>"They'd never approve it, too much risk in your going to campus... but maybe we could work another angle. We could photograph our perps, show you a book and let you finger anyone you recognize as anarchy. Help separate the wheat from the chaff."

>>6351796
>>6351812
this
Also:
"Well lets consider this a mock job test. Could you do a sketch from memory of them so we could zoom in on them faster. Would be better than just a description."

>>6351812
>>6352187
>>6351870
+1

>>6351796
These anons have great ideas.

>>6351812
>>6351863
>>6351870
>>6352064
>>6352187
>>6352229

"They'd never approve it, too much risk in your going to campus." You say with a shake of your head. Caesar visibly deflates and is already murmuring a 'thanks anyways' before you get an idea. "But... maybe we could work another angle."

"Another angle?" His head lifts and he hangs on your words.

"We could photograph our perps after we bring em in, or even just pull pictures from the campus registry. Show you and let you finger anyone you recognize as Anarky. Help separate the wheat from the chaff." You take a dish towel and dry off your hands. "We could treat it like a... mock job test. Could try a sketch from memory, better than a description and saves us from bringing you down to look at a bunch of strangers."

"Shit, I could try!" He says with a wicked grin. "I got my stuff in the room I'll be right back."

He jogs off as you start up the dishwasher. A shudder runs through you as somewhere in Gotham a man dips his fingers into coppery syrup and smears it across cold metal that reeks of exhaust. He scrawls a prayer to a false god. You blink a few times rapidly as the scent hits you and rapidly fades like the cologne of a passing stranger. Before you have time to dwell on it Caesar returns with a thick sketch pad and a cluster of pens and pencils clutched in his hand. He drops them onto the table and gets seated, planting his elbows and taking on a serious expression that poorly masks the excitement behind his eyes. You settle down opposite of him.

"Alright so how do you wanna do this? How real do you want it?"

"I can handle whatever you got, D." He says with confidence.

"If you say so..." You say quietly as you consider what to ask of him.

>"I'm gonna describe a guy I saw in a vision earlier today, guy by the name of Raul. I want you to draw him."
>"Let's test your memory. Sketch out the guy who recruited you from memory.
>"Let's start easy. Sketch me, show me you have the chops."
>"Alright, we're gonna do this legit then. You'll interview me and sketch based off the questions, so make sure you ask good ones." (Who do you want to have in mind for the sketch?)
>Write-In

>>6352691
>"I'm gonna describe a guy I saw in a vision earlier today.l. I want you to draw him."
>DON'T tell him the name

Good starting test. It's unreasonable to expect him to know what sort of questions are most useful for a sketch artist, but if he needs clarifying questions regarding Raul, that's fine.

On the off chance he knows Raul, though, don't drop the name. it might skew the results.

>>6352704
+1
Keep it simple

>>6352704
+1 here!

>>6352704
+1

>>6352704
>>6352720
>>6352742
>>6352776

"I'm gonna describe a guy I saw in a vision earlier today, I want you to draw him."

"Alright... do you want me to like? Ask about him?"

"I'll just describe him, just focus on trying to draw him."

"Alright, D. Hit me."

"Hispanic Male." You begin clinically. "Black hair, slicked back and really neat. Expensive haircut. His eyes were... dark and kinda wide."

Caesar sketches furiously, his eyes locked onto the tip of his pencil with laser focus.

"Ears were tucked back, not overly large or small, his nose was flatter but still had that triangular shape from the bridge down to the nostrils. Clear skin, no marks, tattoos, or scars. No facial hair."

"Shit slow down..." He grumbles. You don't relent.

"His head was taller than it was wide, he was a slim guy. Mouth was wide, could see most of his teeth when he smiled. Eyebrows were thick and well trimmed. Sharp chin."

"Dude." Caesar breathes, his pencil moving rapidly.

"It won't be any easier trying to coax these answers out of someone shaken up from just being mugged or worse, Caesar. Sometimes the only way they can get it out is in one big burst all at once."

"That's a shit way to do it." He comments.

"Maybe, but maybe they can only get themselves to go through it once. Now come on. You got this."

You leave him in silence for another minute or so as he sketches, erases, and gnaws on the eraser of his pencil at points. Eventually he turns the pad around and the face you see is.... generic. It looks like your run of the mill Hispanic late-teen, the eyes aren't quite symmetrical and the chin is too rounded. There's still more artistry than realism to it. But it's a good foundation.

"Not bad. Not the guy I saw fully, but on the way."

"Well you said it all at once! How was I suppos-" His voice gains some heat but he quiets when you put a hand up.

"Caesar, it's okay. You weren't going to be perfect at this your first time, there's a reason people go to college to pick up this skill. It's not something you can just do." You slide the sheet back to him. "But it's a good start."

Caesar lets out a huff and drops his pencil. He stares at the sheet for a couple seconds before looking up at you.

"Really?"

"Really. Just, focus up on whatever work they're giving you for online classes and in your free time put in some practice. The more you work at it now the easier it'll be at school."

"Aight." He says simply. "I'm gonna look up videos on Youtube, I think. Portrait videos and whatever, y'know?"

"Sounds like a plan, Caesar." You grunt as you rise from the table and push the seat in. "But your sister is in bed which means you're probably not far behind yeah?"

"Yeah, I guess." Caesar sighs after glancing at the stove clock. "When I graduate, do you think you'll have been promoted enough to like, vouch for me?"

You let out a snort and shake your head.

"Who knows." You say simply. "Get some sleep, man. I gotta work in the morning too."

"Alright, I'll see you around then, D."

Caesar posts up for a dap and you deliver. A crisp clap of your hands connecting and you give him a pat on the back before he breaks and leaves the kitchen, scooting past his mom as she appears in the doorway, craning her head to watch him head for his room. She turns back to you with a smile.

"Thank you." She says simply.

"No thanks needed, I made a promise."

"Val always said that; Lo prometido es deuda. A promise is a promise." Her smile takes on a more melancholy shape. "Val was a complicated man... but he was good. In his heart, he was a good man. Good father."

You aren't entirely sure what to say so you supplement with nods.

"Well, I'll do my best to make sure Caesar is set up so he doesn't have to resort to anything... unsavory just to support himself."

"I tried, but I was working too often and I couldn't always watch him." She takes a moment to lightly swipe at her eye. "This house arrest has actually been good for us, I think. We don't butt heads as often as we did in the beginning, he helps more around the house... do you really think it may be over soon?"

"I can't comment on an ongoing investigation, not in any meaningful way at least..." You say sadly.

"I understand." She responds, straightening up slightly. "You are probably waiting to get home yourself and I'm keeping you occupied, I'm sorry Officer."

"It's no problem at all. I actually wanted to ask you about something before I left, figured it was best to wait until the kids were away."

"Oh?"

"It's about your neighbor's across the hall. I heard that there were some... disputes? Arguments?"

"Ah, yes." She says nodding. "But they've been quiet since they visited a little bit ago."

"Visited? Ms. Welles you aren't supposed to have-"

"I didn't let them in, or even tell them my name. They actually came over to apologize."

"They? The both of them?"

"Si, they apologized for the fights and said they realized things had gotten a bit out of hand. Apparently they were both Bebedores empedernidos." She mimes a bottle to her lips. "Drinkers, you know?"

"No shit? Huh."

What settles after is a silence filled only by the faint ticking of some clock in the warm atmosphere of the apartment. You awkwardly clear your throat and gesture past her to the door.

"Should probably get home, long day tomorrow most likely."

"Of course." She says quietly stepping aside. "If anything else happens with the neighbors I'll have Caesar text you?"

"That would be great, ma'am. Have a good night." You say twisting the knob and letting the cold night air infiltrate this warm space.

=====

You nod to the officer's across the street in their car and get a gloved hand wave in return. By the time you've settled into your car and started the engine your phone is buzzing with a call, from Hawthorne. You shift into drive and pick up as you hit the main road.

"Hey, sir. What's up?"

"What's up is I finally got free of numb nuts and the drooler brigade."

"Excuse me?" You ask, almost choking on a laugh.

"That stupid bastard the believes 'The Cobra' is a real thing. When his bodies started turning up by the wagonload I gave him a one time offer. Be first in line or go to the back."

"Snitch before they snitch on you. You Darwin'd him."

"Damn right. Sang like Donna Summer too. Turns out 'Anarky' is recruiting from the University, only get this-"

"None of the kids have actually seen Anarky in person?"

"You're quick." He says. "You thinking the same thing then?"

"That Anarky might just be a name on the door to get em in? You think they're being played?"

"I think it's fuckin likely. Buncha yuppie idiots convinced they have it bad, nobody better to buy into the scam."

"What's the plan then? Have they started interrogating the others?"

"Good amount of em, got all hands on deck dealing with the load. Have to split some of em between precincts three and four because our holding isn't big enough. Reiner's more than a little happy you didn't make him look like an ass with the QRT and he's got a clear runway from city hall and Gordon to bring this home."

"Holy shit. What's that mean for us?"

"A lot of work. Dent told Gordon he wants this handled before New Years so we're on auto-approval for OT and it isn't mandatory but you better believe it's expected that we put in some off-clock work for this."

"I figured but I mean for US, personally."

"Reiner has us helping Grey out since he's focusing on the SIM Aspect and handling the limp dicks at ARGUS. A judge approved a warrant for any Kal Quincy Late property which means they need an officer to head up the teams that are gonna be sweeping town checking em out. At the same time, that moron's word and your report has got Reiner wanting someone to do a little preliminary sweep at Gotham University, see if we can't get an idea on where these Anarky kids are coming from so we can figure a way to grab it by the root."

"And you want to know what I'd prefer to work on?" You ask hopefully.

"You just might be a genius, DeLucia." He responds sarcastically. "Grey wrangled both Kimble and I into it, I figured I'd work the college and Kimble can help out with the store sweeps."

>"Works for me, I'll come with you to the college. I have a bit of a secret weapon we might be able to use."
>"I'll help Kimble with the sweeps, the faster we can get to Calc the faster we can wrap this up."
>"No offense but, you're a bit old to be wandering a college, sir. Maybe Kimble should accompany me."
>"You missed out on the raid chasing the Anarky angle, how about you and I conduct some sweeps and Kimble takes the college?"
>Write-In

Do we pursue the college angle and follow up with what we just fucking told Caesar? Or do we stay on Calc's ass with his properties?

>>6353051
>"Works for me, I'll come with you to the college. I have a bit of a secret weapon we might be able to use."

Just a thought, but... I've noticed quite a few of the big names involved with Calc's plan are involved because he has something that he can use against him. Scarecrow being forced to wear his self gassing suit. Anarky's lieutenants being unable to see their boss in person, despite his "lead from the front" tendencies. Mandragora's kidnapped kid used as leverage to cooperate with Penguin and the other mobsters... So, what's the Sword of Damocles hanging over The Hatter? And was that hat that was meant for us a way to talk to us rather than to make us a puppet to kill someone?

>>6353051
>"I'll help Kimble with the sweeps, the faster we can get to Calc the faster we can wrap this up."

>>6353051
>>"Works for me, I'll come with you to the college. I have a bit of a secret weapon we might be able to use."

>>6353067
>>6353157
>>6353158
Why go for one over the other? I'm stuck between deciding these two. What made you guys vote for what you did?

>>6353170
Anybody working the campus is gonna be conspicuous, Be it Kimble or Hawthorne, there's no getting around it.
With that in mind, I'd rather have Kimble heading up the store sweeps as that's where he'd probably be the most helpful. They should have enough to go on to avoid any booby traps and scope out hidden evidence without us.
As for having Mark go to the college specifically, we just suggested we'd do as much to Caesar, not to mention we're one of the few officers involved in this case who could conceivably pass as a college student.

>>6353158
+1
>>6353170
While I also want to stay on top of Calc, with Caesar and a dollop of Shivers we can make more of an impact on the overall case at the college. Kimble is a skilled officer, we can rely on him to make progress with the layup we've given him doing the groundwork on Calc.

>>6353175
>>6353193
Okay then, thanks for the explanations guys

>>6353051
>"Works for me, I'll come with you to the college. I have a bit of a secret weapon we might be able to use."

File: FE7977FB-524F-484F-B329-1D713EBD5AFC.jpg (91.9 KB)

91.9 KB JPG

Just wanted to wish those in the thread a happy New Year's before I inevitably forget and sleep through it.

>>6353318
Happy new year anon, and happy new year to everyone here, also happy new year DetectQM, for another crazy year of this amazing quest

But I wanna wish a happy new year specially to you, yes, YOU, the person that's reading this :)

>>6353170
I went with the college option because I felt like hanging out with Hawthorne, and if we need to be sneaky, it would be pretty easy to fake being an older college student since Mark's is somewhere in his mid twenties.

Wonder if GCPD will ever get sued because mark's abilities are an invasion of privacy. Or maybe it's allowed it's for an investigation.

>>6353774
As I recall, the language surrounding "invasions of privacy" in that part of the country are mostly concerned with whether or not you saw somebody engaging in a sex act where they had a reasonable expectation of privacy otherwise. With that in mind, I'm pretty sure we're good to go so long as we don't use our powers to watch reruns of people fucking in the privacy of their own homes.
That said, the legislation around using our powers to do our job is new, and therefore probably vague as fuck. That could help us or hurt us if we ever have to go to court, so it might not be a bad idea to look into lawyers that specialize in Criminal Law and Metahumans.

>>6353067
>>6353158
>>6353193
>>6353196

"Works for me, I'll come with you to the college. I have a bit of a secret weapon we might be able to use."

"Don't be cute. We're nearing the finish line."

"Caesar, apparently his intro to Anarky was at the college. He's seen some faces of guys who were leading the push for recruitment, I was thinking we could have him look over our POI list and see if any faces jump out."

"Works for me." Hawthorne says simply. "I'll take whatever we can get on this."

"You sound impatient, why the rush?"

"Son is visiting for new years and I'd prefer not to have work to juggle with him around."

"Oh shit, that's great! Is he coming just for New Years Day or-"

"It's the week of Christmas is all, he lands Christmas morning and heads back on the second. It's not a big deal, just uh.."

"Just what, sir? This is good news."

"Eh, we'll talk about it tomorrow." He says stiffly before muttering to himself. "It's damn late."

"Understood, I'll be in early to get the shop together. We'll knock it out before lunch."

"Understood, see you then." He says before unceremoniously hanging up.

====

Another dreamless night prefaced by texting with Allison about a potential dinner with your parents. Not anytime soon but, when the case is finally cleared up... maybe.

The early morning air cuts through the blue dyed wool of your uniform shirt, even piercing that lingering warmth from a hot shower that you cling to. You roll your shoulder and shake off the final bits of ache that still cling to your joints. Your belt feels lighter without your weapon, your duty 'medically restricted' until your blood test comes back clean, but that doesn't bother you one bit as you close the trunk and step back.

"Ready for our 'inspection', rook?" Hawthorne asks from over your shoulder, handing you a flimsy coffee cup filled nearly to the brim with oil black coffee.

"Ready as I can be." You reply, taking a sip. "Never knew the GCPD ran the resource officer program for Gotham U."

"Eh." Hawthorne grunts. "Run is a strong word. We have a program for elderly officers or special cases, we vouch for em so the university doesn't have to deal with private security schmucks."

"Ahhh, I get it. That's your plan then?" You ask, cranking the key. "You'll fit right in as the old retired cop coming to work on campus."

"Yeah? You think my foot'll fit right in your ass? Maybe jammed down your neck?"

"But you gotta set a good example for your son!" You protest, laughing as you turn onto the road.

"I'll throw this coffee in your goddamn face, rook, I ain't joking."

"Alright, alright." You begrudge through chuckles. "When we get there whadda we do?"

"Check in at the front office, get visitor passes, then we have free reign of the campus. Officially, we're there to do a walk through looking for any security issues and also we'll pick up the yearly reviews for the Resource Officers. Those usually get rubber stamped anyways."

"Sounds simple enough."

"It's basically a holiday to get assigned for inspection, Bunko and Chen handle it usually."

"So once we get there I'm guessing it's on me to decide where we poke around?"

"I really do think you're picking up the whole police officer thing quicker than most." He says dryly as he drains the still steaming coffee. "Yes. Seeing as you're barely out of diapers in my eyes I think it's best you take lead at the college."

>"We start where everything happens, the common areas. It'll serve as a good temperature check, see who gets nervous when the cops are visible."
>"We go where everything actually happens, what's the closest bar to the campus with less than three stars online? The kind that wouldn't look too hard at a fake ID."
>"We should start with the office, pull records of anyone with disciplinary issues and start there."
>"Maybe we start with frats and the club spaces? If you were looking to recruit then it makes sense to go after people already looking for a place to fit in. Or to be there as the net for the ones that don't.
>Write-In

>>6353783
>>"Maybe we start with frats and the club spaces? If you were looking to recruit then it makes sense to go after people already looking for a place to fit in. Or to be there as the net for the ones that don't.

>>6353783
>"Maybe we start with frats and the club spaces? If you were looking to recruit then it makes sense to go after people already looking for a place to fit in. Or to be there as the net for the ones that don't.
No idea where we’ll start, though. Little Pink clubs on college campuses are a dime a dozen.

>>6353783
>"Maybe we start with frats and the club spaces? If you were looking to recruit then it makes sense to go after people already looking for a place to fit in. Or to be there as the net for the ones that don't.
Find some information for art and law classes for Caesar, perhaps some photography too. Couldn't hurt.

Do we need to be officially in uniform or could we go in and pose as a college kid.

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33.6 KB JPG

>>6353857
I don't think we look young enough to pull a 21 Jump Street, lol... Do we?

>>6353783
>"We go where everything actually happens, what's the closest bar to the campus with less than three stars online? The kind that wouldn't look too hard at a fake ID."
Social revolutionaries and ideologues love bars. Anti-establishment types are less likely to like frats, methinks.

>>6353916
+1

Every campus has a crummy bar with a dealer that sells $80 grams of coke to anyone that asks. Even if the Anarkiddies aren't regulars, someone there will have a solid lead, but I think at least a couple of them hang around.

Frats is definitely a cold move, clubs too, the people that go to those places to 'fit in' are normies, preps, ideologically opposed to anarchy, financially stable, more well adjusted. The REAL outcasts and radicals don't go there to find their place.

>>6353928
Couldn't we just leverage our weed dealer?

>>6354105
I doubt Wisdom the Hippie is tight with the real hardcore violent anarchist scene. They'll want something stronger.

>>6353916
I'm sure we could easily pull off a "GI bill".

>>6353916
+1

>>6353787
>>6353837
>>6353852

"Maybe we start with the frats and the club spaces? If you were looking to recruit then it makes sense to go after people already looking for a place to fit in. Or to be there as the net for the ones that don't."

"Eh. Sure." He offers.

"Sure? Something wrong with my plan?"

"Just don't figure the pansies Anarky recruits are the type for a fraternity or any of that shit. These kids are raging against their mama for asking em to do dishes, they don't wanna get into all the hierarchy bullshit of a fraternity."

"I get where you're coming from but when I was in college all the 'weird' kids or whatever usually ended up in some kind of club. There was even a communist... marxist... thing that people joined. The point is, people are paying to go here for the most part. They wanna find a place to fit in while here."

"I don't know. In my day if you wanted to find a place to fit in you'd go to the closest dive bar and get to know two or three guys over darts, pool, and liquor. Then you'd meet every weekend and do it again."

"So you're saying we should scope out a bar?"

"I'm not saying shit. This is your show, rook. You can run it wrong all you want."

"Since you're so confident about that how about we do both? Whichever one gets us the bigger lead wins."

"Loser buys a case of beer." Hawthorne grunts.

"You're on."

=====

You step out of the warm shelter of your shop into the cold grey parking lot outside the admin building. Students mill around moving in and out of the smaller wings that flank the main building. Hawthorne steps inside with a smile and extends a hand to a security officer who stands by the door.

"Harry." He says simply. "How the hell are ya?"

"Living the dream." The elderly officer chuckles.

"Kid, you go ahead. I'm gonna catch up here for a second. Just grab the reports from the desk and ask the receptionist for help finding anything."

"Yes, sir." You answer promptly before heading inside, the last things you hear from them being:

"Your rookie?"

"Yep. He's a good egg, bit green but he's got the hea-"

The door hisses closed behind you as you click your shoes across freshly mopped tile. A kindly looking woman at her desk gives you a smile and holds up a folder for a moment.

"I assume you're one of the officers doing today's inspection?"

"Yes, ma'am. Officer DeLucia and Officer Hawthorne."

She clacks at her keyboard and squints at her computer screen before nodding once and giving you a full smile as she hands over the file.

"Here you go. I included a map of the campus in there since this is your first time doing inspection. The administration building closes at three and most of the student recreation areas close at the same time."

"Oh, do the inspections usually go on so long? It's still morning."

"Some officers are more thorough than others." She chirps. "Now unless there's something else I could help you with..."

"There is actually. Can you point me to where most of the clubs and fraternities pick up new members?"

"The Rec-Hall is where you want to go, they usually have some stands on the weekend or the community board." She smiles. "Anything else?"

"No, ma'am. You have a good day."

You step back outside to Hawthorne writing something in his notepad and tucking it into his pocket before giving a hearty handshake to the senior guard.

"Appreciate ya, Harry. Say hello to Sasha for me."

"Will do, Mitch. You get one for me."

"Oh I will, the kid's buying." Hawthorne calls over his shoulder as he sidles up to you. "You get what you need?"

"Yup, Rec-Hall. You?"

"Address of the place all the burnouts drink. Porky's."

"We'll fit right in then." You quip.

Hawthorne gives a genuine laugh at that handing you the torn piece of paper with the address before he secures his hat firmly.

"Let's get to it, I want that beer."

The campus is surprisingly active, the month before Christmas means a lot of last minute rushing before going home. Your own mind drifts back to your time in school on the west coast, holidays were always extra stressful for you with cross country flights. You shudder as questioning voices swirl around you like leaves in a windstorm, questions of the future and internal doubts. You shake them off easily, you dealt with them just fine over your years in school. But not enough to stop yourself from zoning out as you feel an elbow tap your side and suddenly you're being embraced by the heating inside a hall with a high-ceiling.

"Hey." Hawthorne says gruffly. "I asked you a question."

"Sorry, sir. I was just uh, reminiscing."

"Stow it for now. I asked where you wanna start in here."

You glance around at a small set of booths, maybe three or four with small groups talking casually. Behind it is a massive corkboard with posters and various papers. One of which has a striking color scheme... yellow and red.

>"The Frats, more specifically we ask about rejected members."
>"That corkboard back there, I think I spy a hammer and sickle."
>"We shouldn't be looking at the booths. We should look at the people doing the recruiting, the ones not behind a booth."
>Write-In

>>6354157
>"We shouldn't be looking at the booths. We should look at the people doing the recruiting, the ones not behind a booth."

>>6354157
>"The Frats, more specifically we ask about rejected members."
If the Frat angle pays dividends, this will be how it does so, IMO.

>>6354157
>"That corkboard back there, I think I spy a hammer and sickle."
Perfect, communists are the natural enemies of anarchists, like fascists and anarchists, or liberals and anarchists, or liberals and communists, or communists and communists!
And the loudest most annoying communist organizer probably has a Twitter feed full of callouts about at least one member of Anarky. Thank you CIA!

>>6354157
>>"We shouldn't be looking at the booths. We should look at the people doing the recruiting, the ones not behind a booth."

>>6354157
>>"We shouldn't be looking at the booths. We should look at the people doing the recruiting, the ones not behind a booth."

>>6354234
>>6354292
>>6354767

"We shouldn't be looking at the booths. We should look at the people doing the recruiting, the ones not behind a booth." You say casting a gaze over the crowd, an action that's swiftly stopped by Hawthorne pulling a file from your hands and opening it.

"Easy with the eyes junior. You'll scare the fish." He murmurs before raising his voice and pointing to a few spaces on the ceiling. Surveillance cameras. "Camera's looking operational?"

"Yes, sir. No obstructions, good coverage..." You play along before leaning in. "Any reason for the performance?"

"Just a hunch..." Hawthorne says before motioning you closer as he points to nothing in particular.

"Did you see something?" You ask quietly pretending to study the file with him.

"Got a buddy, a lot like the guard here. Retired cops or medical reasons. One of em works in Loss Prevention at Gotham mall."

"Alright?"

"He told me once about his trick for shoplifters. He'd stand right in the open and they'd give themselves away. Just like when a pickpocket bumps a fella and watches where he checks for the wallet... someone hiding something on em... tends to have tells."

His hand points to a distant corner with a small black dome on the ceiling. He drops his voice to barely above a whisper.

"Right under this one. Since he saw us that left hand of his has been jammed in his pocket."

"Good eye, did you see what he stuck in there?"

"It was yellow and he's real squirrely about it, shifting around."

You both turn around, giving him your backs as you feign another look around.

"Think he could bolt?" You ask.

"You're starting to learn the right questions, DeLucia. He reads like a runner to me. Lucky for us."

"Lucky? You looking to step up your cardio?"

"Lesson time. What's a runner do? They run. If they can't run their legs..."

"They'll run their mouths?"

"Thatta boy." He offers with only a tinge of condescension. "Now go talk to em."

"What? Me?"

"Mhm. If he runs you'll catch him."

"If I don't?"

"I'll be by the door with a baton reserved for his knees."

"And if he takes the fire escape?"

Hawthorne tenses his jaw for a moment and narrows his eyes. He sits on that for a few seconds before closing the folder and giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Don't let'em." He says simply.

"Don't let him?"

He nods once before he takes a step backwards and closes the folder. "I'll be by the door."

You sigh and try not to make it too obvious that you're going to approach him, instead keeping your eyes upwards pretending to scope out more of the space casually. Slowly but surely you make your way to him and Hawthorne was right, you can see the micro-shuffles he takes to make space. The way he rotates to keep his left side away from you, he's telegraphing in a way that's almost painfully obvious. You straighten up a bit and, after you make sure you're between him and the fire exit, you catch his eye and make a decision on your approach.

>Wield your authority. Play at already knowing what he's up to and that it's better to just give it up now and save himself the trouble.
>Be Mr. Nice Cop. Build a little rapport, ask him about his time at the school, then gently blindside him with what you know.
>Play the long game. Anarky and it's associates don't have the best view on police. Play into it by being the bumbling cop who's getting a bit too close. Spook him with some slip of the tongue info and see where who the runner runs to to spill the beans.
>Write-In (Encouraged)

>>6355375
>Be Mr. Nice Cop. Build a little rapport, ask him about his time at the school, then gently blindside him with what you know.

>>6355375
>Play the long game. Anarky and it's associates don't have the best view on police. Play into it by being the bumbling cop who's getting a bit too close. Spook him with some slip of the tongue info and see where who the runner runs to to spill the beans.
Anarkists are going to be ACAB. They won't trust an Officer Friendly.

>>6355624
+1

>>6355624
I thought the idea was not to let him get away?
If he goes for the fire escape we might lose him, if he goes through the front door he's going to get stopped by Hawthorne. Do we have people ready to quietly tail him?

>>6355685
We don't want him to escape us. If we can tail him, he didn't really get away.

>>6355624
>>6355636

"Excuse me, sir?" You start innocently enough, putting on your best disarming style.

"Hm?" He grunts, still half turned from you.

"Sorry to bother you but I'm here doing a safety inspection for the university, making sure the guards on campus and the security here is up to par."

"Oh, uh, yeah things are pretty good."

"You feel safe on campus then? Like a scale of 1-10 where would you say?"

"I dunno man..." He turns to face you a bit more now, his shoulders less tense as he takes in how young you are.

"Can you think about it?" You glance over your shoulder at Hawthorne and then back to the kid. "My supervisor is really on my case to do this right man, I'm just a rookie. Could you help me out? Just pick a number."

He sighs and shrugs.

"I guess like a seven?"

"And could you just give me a reason for that? Like a suggestion or something?"

"I don't know, man. I gotta class soon so-"

"I understand totally. I'll just put down more cameras and uh..." Another glance to Hawthorne. "You seem like a good kid, so maybe you could help me out with one other thing?"

"Dude." He says flatly, you can see it in the way he eyes you now. You're an annoyance, not a threat. The fear is reserved for Hawthorne now, tension visible in this kid every time you turn back from glancing at him.

"Sorry, sir. You're absolutely right. It was a longshot anyways you don't seem like the Anarky type."

His pupils swell as you see a nervous swallow drag down his throat, but you play oblivious and mirror the expression as he repeats back to you:

"Anarky?"

"Fuck." You groan. "Forget I said anything, please. I really-"

"Is something going on?" He asks, his voice is tight and dry.

"Nothing you need to get worried about we've just gotten some tips about some things potentially on campus and- I really shouldn't even be saying this to you. Look, I appreciate your help with my inspection but I oughta get out of your hair. Can you please not say anything to anyone? We don't wanna scare anybody and it would get me in a lot of trouble."

"Sure thing, bro. I won't say nothin."

"Thanks." You sigh with a wide smile. "I appreciate that, now I'm gonna head out front and check a few things out there, you have a good day now."

You walk off and head for Hawthorne, he raises a brow and you just nod towards the door. He follows you back into the windy gloom.

"You working an angle?" He asks simply.

"Mhm, told him we'd be camped out front here for a bit. I let slip that we're looking into Anarky and he got tense. Scared."

"So you walked away?"

"Figured we could tail him wherever he runs off. Bought us some time saying we'd be out here, probably too shaken to run past us. Gives us time to find a good spot to wait."

"That's a gamble." Hawthorne grumbles.

"My gut says it's worth the wait, just to see."

"Good news is we won't need to drive the shop after him. Kid doesn't drive."

"How do you know?"

"No lanyard for keys. no bulge in the pocket aside from the one he was hiding from us, shoes are worn to hell and scuffed badly. Means he's walking in em often and probably can't afford to replace em. No job, no cash, no car."

"You pick some things up from Grey?" You tease.

"Nope. This is stuff you'll learn the longer you work, how to size someone up. It's gut feeling for now, but the more work you put in the more you'll be able to describe it. You'll have to."

"I'll have to?"

"For reports. 'I stopped the kid because I had a bad feeling about him' is a nice way to get a case thrown out. You need to be able to verbalize your suspicion and explain your thought process to a superior... or a jury."

"Well, we're about to have some time to talk about it."

"Ha. Guess so." He grunts.

====

"Kids these days stuck to their fuckin phones." Hawthorne grumbles as you both walk slowly down the sidewalk. "If he could get his face out of that thing for ten seconds maybe this'd be a challenge. Much further and we'll be off the fucking campus."

You both pause at a corner you watched him turn, giving it a good fifteen or so seconds before you peer around it and spot him halfway to the next corner with his face still buried in his phone with his fingers flying.

"Sorry, you WANT him to catch us?"

"Don't get fresh with me, rook. I just feel like an asshole taking all these precautions when he wouldn't notice a Jeep if it ran over his toes."

You make it to the next corner and wait again. Hawthorne's finger taps impatiently on his holster. You silently count and then peer around the corner to see... nothing. Or at least no sign of your tail. You resist the urge to panic and instead focus on scoping out the area for anywhere he could have gone and then you spot it and sigh. A chalkboard tented on the sidewalk like a wet floor sign.

'TONIGHT: WC and The Roadrunners! Only at PORKY'S'

You lean back around the corner and glance at Hawthorne.

"He went into a bar."

"Oh really?" Hawthorne asks, a wicked grin hitting the corner of his mouth. He glances at a sign on the corner and shakes his head. "Porky's. I told ya, rook. It's always the bar. You owe me a beer."

"Well technically, I found him on campus. He just came here after the fact..."

"I'll explain why you're wrong when we wrap up here. But now we got a question."

"Do we go in?"

"Or do we wait em out?"

>"Let's go in, we can handle some rowdy teens and it'll catch em off guard to have cops on their home turf."
>"We wait it out, bar closes eventually. You can get the shop and we can find somewhere discreet to snap some pictures, see if Caesar can ID anyone."
>"Place like this has to have a back door for receiving stock right? Why don't we knock and convince the bartender to let us linger in the back, see if we can't listen in a bit on the room?"
>Write-In

>>6355743
>>"Place like this has to have a back door for receiving stock right? Why don't we knock and convince the bartender to let us linger in the back, see if we can't listen in a bit on the room?"
We go in now, we risk spooking him again and he takes his accomplices with him. Let's get in without ruffling any feathers and see what we can see before we crash the party.

>>6355743
>"We wait it out, bar closes eventually. You can get the shop and we can find somewhere discreet to snap some pictures, see if Caesar can ID anyone."
Stakeout time!

>>6355744
+1

>>6355744
>>6356047

"Place like this has to have a back door for receiving stock, right? Why don't we knock and convince the bartender to let us linger in the back, see if we can't listen in a bit on the room?"

"What makes you think he's gonna be 'convinced' of anything? He probably knows his clientele."

"Then he also knows if we catch even a single underaged drinker in that bar we can have his liquor license."

"Look at you, playing hardball. But I got a method of my own." Hawthorne says with an approving grin. Ho nods and leads the way as you both slip into an alley.

The first thing that hits is an acrid scent of piss and liquor. Hawthorne sighs contentedly and glances around the alley with a small smile but you see his eyes are as focused as ever. Eventually he holds out an arm to stop you and then points.

"That one there says Porky's. I'll knock, let me do the talking."

"Sure thing, wanna let me in on your method?"

"It's simple. People tend to take my threats seriously."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing, babyface."

"Fuck you." You with faux hurt. "Maybe it's just respect for an elder. That's why they talk to you."

"Uh-huh." Hawthorne grunts as he steps past an overflowing dumpster to stand before the door. He clenches his fist and brings it down twice. Hard.

A few seconds pass before the door opens and a short portly man with a flat nose peeks his head out. His beady eyes dart between you and Hawthorne as he's beckoned out of the shop. Hawthorne doesn't stoop despite the clear size difference, if anything he seems to be lording it over him, despite his aggressive posture Hawthorne speaks lightly. So lightly in fact you struggle to hear him over the sounds of the city bouncing off the walls of the alley. You swallow and taste the bitter burn of a shot followed by something salty and savory... peanuts?

"DeLucia." Hawthorne's firm voice pulls you out of your own head as the strange taste dissipates.

You step forward and nod to the shopkeeper.

"Mr. Bergen here has agreed to let us in the back here. Right?"

"Yes, sir. Anything for the police!" He chuckles nervously.

You follow Hawthorne as he steps inside. The stinging smell of liquor remains while the piss smell vanishes, but it's replaced by the chemical odor of urinal cakes instead. You lean close to Hawthorne and whisper.

"What'd you say to him?"

"Turns out he hosts poker games here on the weekends, he's pretty deep in the hole and I offered to clear the debt up for him."

"How?"

"School Officer I talked to is an old buddy, I helped him get the gig. He owed me and Bergen owed him. Therefore. Bergen owed me."

The narrow hallway is lit by dim and dying light tubes. Blue stretches across the wall like grasping fingers coming from the neon sign. A low murmur of conversation grows louder as you approach the end of this hall and corner that leads to the open bar floor. You hear a clack as, what you assume to be, pool balls collide and scatter. The little man turns around and holds up his stubby fingered hands.

"Th- tha- tha- that's all, folks." He says. "Go any further and someone might see you. If someone has to piss this is also the way to the bathroom, that's all I can do for you."

"That'll do." Hawthorne says simply. "Just go serve drinks like normal, we won't cause a fuss. Scout's honor."

The round bartender sputters a few more words of caution before he rounds the corner and vanishes. You only risk peering a single eye around it yourself. The bar isn't packed but it has a healthy amount of customer's for a weekday. You can tell just by looking that half the people in here can't be over twenty-one, you let your eye drag over each one slowly until you spot a familiar face. Two actually.

"Sir." You whisper quietly. "I see the kid we talked with."

"And?"

You peek again and freeze.

"And he's talking to someone I saw in a vision at the toxin lab. Raul."

The pair are too far for you to make out their conversation but it's energetic, at least on the side of the younger boy. Raul stays relaxed, holding a bottle by it's rim as he leans on a counter by the front window. A clenched hand of post-it notes are being shaken in his face and the entire time he wears a grin that reads equal parts amusement and condescension. He gently takes the post-it notes and sets them aside before putting his bottle on them like a coaster. He loops an arm around the younger man's shoulders and speaks to him. Whatever he's saying, it doesn't land, as the younger man shakes his head and lightly shoves Raul away. Your legs tense up as you get ready to move, if a fight breaks out you'll have no choice but to step in. But to your surprise that doesn't happen. Instead Raul raises his hand in a peaceful gesture, only not to the one who shoved him, but a different boy standing to the side. Large, blond, and wearing a varsity jacket. The longer you look at him the more you smell oranges and a faint ache begins to creep in. Another small exchange of words take place but this time you hear the response of the younger boy clearly.

"Go fuck yourself, man!"

He turns and shoves the door open, drawing a few heads which all look to Raul. He stares coolly at the door as it clicks shut before picking up his beer and screwing his face up into a frown as he tosses the now sopping post-it notes into a garbage can by the front door.

"See anything?" Hawthorne asks.

"Some sort of fight between our guy and Raul. He was stashing sticky notes in his pocket, Raul trashed em."

"We can pick em up later then, what else?"

"Most of the people in here looked to Raul when it went down. He has muscle too, football player."

"Muscle." Hawthorne scoffs. "They're children, rook."

You grunt in reply as you peer again and see Raul take up a seat at an empty table, he nurses his beer and stares at the door while the jock busies himself with the game on TV.

"We making a move or learning anything here?" Hawthorne asks, needling your patience just a hair.

"Trying." You hiss.

>This isn't working. Police tactics won't cut it here, you need to lpay to your strengths. Use your Shivers on Raul.
>This isn't working. Police tactics won't cut it here, you need to lpay to your strengths. Use your Shivers on the jock.
>"We can't just wait back here anymore. We can blindside Raul, right now. Have a little chat with him at his table."
>"He looks like he's waiting for someone. We just need to see who, maybe get a photo for Caesar."
>Ask Gotham a question directly. (Urban Augury)
>Write-In

>>6356104
>"He looks like he's waiting for someone. We just need to see who, maybe get a photo for Caesar."

Did we fuck up? It sounds like we fucked up

>>6356103
>a short portly man with a flat nose peeks his head out. His beady eyes dart between you and Hawthorne
>"Th- tha- tha- that's all, folks."
>bar is named Porky's
Hehehehehehehe

>>6356147
I think the situation is salvageable, but frats and school clubs definitely were not the right place to sniff out disaffected radicals and petty criminals; we had to give away the game a bit in order to get lead to the spot where we probably should have started.

>>6356104
>This isn't working. Police tactics won't cut it here, you need to lpay to your strengths. Use your Shivers on Raul.
We've already had some psychic contact with him so I think maybe a little bit of Shivering will produce something that could give us an edge.
While we are using our powers, we should tell Hawthorne to keep an eye on Raul and the jock, and snap us out of it if we need to roll, or intervene if something happens like Raul clearing out. We really need to arrest him before he leaves the bar imo, and ideally we will snag that kid we spooked earlier so he doesn't blow what's left of our cover. Might have to just eat shit on that one. But with Raul's brother detained we have justification to take in Raul - he's an obvious 'known associate', we just observed an exchange that would grant probable cause separately, and if we can interrogate him, we can use the Intel we've already psychically gathered PLUS the leverage of arresting his brother at the lab to get a confession.

>>6356187
+1

>>6356104

>>6356187
+1 this then

>>6356187
>>6356342
>>6356385

"I'm gonna use my shivers." You state quietly. "Keep an eye on the guy at the empty table by the door. Hispanic, dark hair, polo shirt. Keep one on another at the bar, varsity jacket and big, if something happens do whatever you have to to wake me up."

"I'll slap you silly if I need'ta." Hawthorne promises, taking your position as he groans into a crouch to peer around the corner.

You take the rear position and slide down the wall until you're sitting. You shift slightly as you get comfortable and start your breathing exercises to clear your mind and keep you focused. Focused on Raul. On more than just who he is. That rushing current you've seen before, that you've touched, that you've let nearly consume you. You've experienced enough of it to know that it exists in layers. You don't use your shivers to try and look into who Raul is. You peel the layers until you get to WHAT he is.

Then you blink.

Dress shoes dangling at eye level. The cuff of pleated slacks connected to them. Eyes traveling upwards, ignoring all warning. The creak of tired wood and strained rope.

Then you blink.

The taste of salt on your lips. Wet streaks carving hot paths through the cold skin of your cheeks. A growing pressure like your lungs might pop.

Then you blink.

Goldenrod and Gladiolus, they're petals gently touching. The dim Gotham sun reflecting off the glass as it rests on the polished surface of a headstone.

'Michael Araya'

A smaller hand clenches your pinky and ring finger. But you don't look, the world is already blurry.

Then you blink and feel the tear break free and again you taste salt... sea salt. You hear the gulls. You smell brine and algae. You feel anger. A black rage that flickers behind cool skin. The heat unable to be doused, fueled by... hope? A voice echoes in your mind:

'A proposition to honor your father...'

You grit your teeth and through force of will you pull yourself back. Forcing your eyes open even when it feels like the skin is ripping away in tattered shreds. Salt stings your eyes as you stare out over a moonlit sea and an old sign encrusted with salt spray and graffiti reads simply: Amusement Mile.

File: AmuMile.png (1006.4 KB)

1006.4 KB PNG

The scene before you rips like shorn fabric as you're violently grabbed by the collar. The sensation sends a pulse of nausea out from your gut like a sonar ping that raises every goosebump on you. Your vision swims and swings so violently that you can't make out a single thing and then you're stuffed into darkness before a mass slams into your body pushing all the air out of your lungs.

"Sorry, rook." Hawthorne whispers. "Someone is fixing to piss."

"Where?" You manage to gasp in a hushed tone.

"Closet. Not much space."

"No... shit..." You grumble.

You both tense as heavy footsteps grow and then slowly fade past you. You both wait a few more seconds until the creaking hinge of the bathroom door closing spurs Hawthorne to open the closet door and mercifully remove his weight from your body.

You follow on legs that are still a touch unsteady. Bracing yourself on the wall for a moment as Hawthorne leans in.

"What'd you see? Talk fast."

"Right uh..." You groan, rubbing your head. "Saw a lot, he's reminiscing on something or... it just sits on his mind. But I saw a place, somewhere he feels safe. Amusement Mile."

"The Mile?" Hawthorne asks. "The mile's been abandoned since Gordon's..."

"I saw the sign, by the boardwalk."

"That means it's inside past the fences, you sure it was recent?"

"Sign looked decrepit. I'd guess so."

"So now what?" Hawthorne probes.

You sit on that for a moment. Good question...

>"We have to take Raul in now, we can use the fact he's related to the kid I caught in the sewers to do it. We pump him for more info on Amusement Mile at the station."
>"We leave and pass this along. We grab people now maybe it scrambles the Anarkists, maybe Amusement Mile is a bigger deal than we think and scattering em to the wind hurts us."
>"Nothing yet. We still don't know who he's waiting on, I don't really want to hide in that closet again but... we do what we gotta do."
>"I'm tired of leading the way, what's your gut telling you?"
>Write-In

>>6356476
Hmmmm I wasn't thinking that Raul may be high enough up on the chain to cause a panic, or at least a readjustment, if he got scooped, but that makes sense. That other kid might already do so, but I am thinking maybe he failed to convince Raul there was a problem.

I'm kind of split. If we arrest him, we will have enough leverage to get some valuable intel, which I feel sure he knows, and we might just be saving his life.

Mmm yaknow I think Mark has been busting ass and overall lining things up very nicely. Let's take advantage of Hawthorne's considerable experience - he's been flexing it nonstop since we got to campus, right? I think he would've struggled to get all these same variables in place (Raul, his brother, knowing about the shipments, Amusement Mile, etc), but with them in hand, I trust him to make a good decision, maybe even the best one possible.

>"I'm tired of leading the way, what's your gut telling you?"
Maybe more
>"If we detain Raul over there now, it could spook his crew, but we have his brother and can lean on either one with partial immunity for the other. Either of them could know something about Amusement Mile we need to know first, or they could know about something bigger... But I think the Mile might be where he was recruited, it might be where a lot of them are hanging their hats, might even be a place to find Calculator. Let's decide this together. Should we scoop the kid before we leave campus, or just take this lead back to the station and have campus police maintain some kind of eye on him?"

>>6356519
+1
Mark did plenty, let's throw the old dog a bone

>>6356519
+1, he was right about the bar and about how to get in. We each have our strengths.

>>6356615
Right, was thinking about him coaching us on the kid's shoes, also. We compliment each other very well as officers - Mark is able to glean things a normal human can't with their own sensory perception. Hawthorne is able to glean things that a normal human COULD - if they possessed his exceptionally honed skills to do so. Asking him to take the wheel like this is the best way for us to develop those same skills, and with our insights he can do some A1 police work in a fraction of the time.

>>6356474
>"I'll slap you silly if I need'ta."
I do enjoy how everyone is just used to Mark's specialist role now. Like "Ah, yeah, the oracle cop, yeah, sometimes you gotta shake him awake, but he gets good info." Kimble and SWAT guy bants about him were funny too.
>>6356476
>>"We have to take Raul in now, we can use the fact he's related to the kid I caught in the sewers to do it. We pump him for more info on Amusement Mile at the station."
Get him to the station, "I saw you do it" in columbo's voice gotta spook him enough to crack at least a bit. Mark can give a real Big Brother scare sometimes.
Actually, the assassination attempts on Mark are gonna go crazy in a year or two. If I was a mobster and I knew that one cop only needs one of my items or a place I've been to to literally see into the past is scary. Keeping your phone away won't save you anymore, the GCPD is watching.

Just having Hawthorne lead now is good too, we had to spend 2 extra updates because we made a wrong choice

>>6356519
>>6356610
>>6356615
>>6356636

"I can't lie to you... I'm tired of leading the way." You begin, Hawthorne lets out a small laugh at that as you continue. "What's your gut telling you? You were right about the bar being a good lead, maybe I need to learn how to think like you do a bit more."

"C'mon." Hawthorne says lightly. Leading you to the same back door you came in.

The stink of the alley is as oppressive as ever. Hawthorne leads and pulls his radio from his belt.

"I mighta been right about this, but I've been wrong about plenty. That's the lesson I'm gonna teach you right now, earlier than I learned it." He dials the frequency and lifts it to his face, finger hovering over the button. "GCPD is an organization, no man's an island."

The button clicks and Hawthorne speaks clearly and firmly:

"Dispatch, this is 1-Adam-0. 10-40 on Officer Kimble, probably gonna have to reach him over his desk extension."

"10-4, 1-Adam-0. Looking into that now."

Hawthorne keeps walking as he waits, glancing over his shoulder at you.

"I need you to go back to the college lot and grab the shop. Bring it back here, I'll meet you at the corner."

"But isn't that a bit conspicuous?"

"That's the point this time." He states before the radio interrupts him.

"10-40 is confirmed, stay safe 1-Adam-0."

"Appreciate it, Dispatch. Over and out." He tucks the radio and fishes in his pocket, producing his phone the moment it begins to ring. He answers on speaker phone. "Kimble."

"What's up, boss?"

"You still handling the paperwork from your field-trip with QRT?"

"That's one word for it. Nearly done at least, why?"

"Get an unmarked and grab a second. Head for Amusement Mile and sit tight."

"Watching or intercepting?"

"Watching. One of em is gonna be a young Hispanic male, black hair, preppy haircut. Other guests are unknown but no more than two additional."

"Understood, I'll get there quick as I can."

"See to it." Hawthorne says simply before hanging up.

"Sir, what are we doing?"

"Setting the trap. That Raul kid strikes me a smart kid. Smart people piss me off, too clever." He spits. "But there comes a point bein clever loops back around to being predictable."

"So you're trying to bait him?"

"Something like that. We're two blueberries driving around a marked shop, gonna stick out like peckers at a brothel. So we work with that. Did you notice how he was sittin?"

"Facing the door, back to the room..."

"Means he isn't scared of anyone coming up behind him. He feels safe in there, got a big linebacker acting as his bodyguard but keeps him at the bar. Close enough to help, not close enough to hear anything. The people he's waiting on are gonna be sat right in front of the door, backs to it. With the first thing they see being this kid's face."

"It's a power play." You say quietly.

"It's always a power play." Hawthorne adds as he checks the sidewalk before stepping out of the alleyway. "He's got himself in a position where he needs to flex that power to stay in charge. That's always how it is with young people in this shit."

"So where do we fit in?"

"We sit on the bar. Park right out front, maybe enjoy a coffee. We don't push on any of em, in fact maybe we cut someone a break. Something to relax him enough that he won't think he's the focus. Because he's big man and his word is law, he can't just cancel the appointment." He pauses on the corner. "He's gonna head somewhere safe, but private. We count on him heading there."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then hopefully we get a look at what this shitbird drives. Then we brew a strong pot and spend the night sifting through traffic cams to follow him. When hunches fail you can always make up for it with elbow grease."

You sit there for a moment taking in his words before he glances at you and furrows his brow.

"You waiting for an invite in the mail, rook? The shop! And drive it back with the windows down and the heat off."

"Wh..." The word dies on your tongue with a look. "Yes, sir!" You reply, hurrying away and once again thanking Kimble internally for the focus on cardio he put you through.

====

"Damn, rook. You look cold." Hawthorne says to you around ten or so minutes later. "Good job. It'll make this next part easier."

"W-what next part?" You ask, your teeth clacking slightly.

"Nobody's been in since you left, couple have gone out." He opens the door and climbs in. "Just pull up to the curb right out front and park it. Then follow me."

You do as he says and follow him with your hands cupped by your mouth. Hawthorne heads straight for the front door and opens it as if he was a regular, heading straight for the bar without so much as a side glance at any customers.

"Ay." He barks. "Barkeep, you do an Irish coffee?"

The familiar squashed face of the bartender peers over and he nods.

"Uh.. y-ye-yuh-ye-yu-yup." He stutters out.

"Good. Get me two mugs, hold the Irish. My partner's damn near blue in the lips here."

You manage an up-nod to him as you approach the bar with your hands tucked underneath your armpits. He's acting casual, so you play along, but you keep your eyes active. Raul clocked you both the moment you came in, his power play head of the table seat means he doesn't notice you watch him covertly pull a thin phone from his pocket.

"Ah-" You hear Hawthorne say. "Make a fresh pot, how long's that been sitting there?"

"B-b-bo-bout thirty minutes."

"Twenty five minutes too long, then. Go ahead make a fresh pot." He slightly raises his voice. "We ain't going anywhere anytime soon."

The barkeep silently gets to work fixing a fresh pot of coffee and the mood has noticeably dampened in the bar. Hawthorne now turns his eyes over the room before settling on the jock who still holds a beer in his hand.

"I hope you're wearing that thing because you peaked in College, son." Hawthorne says giving him a slow up and down. "Otherwise someone could assume you might be under the legal age to consume alcohol."

You see the jock swallow harshly and set the bottle down. Hawthorne raises a brow at it and smirks.

"Go ahead and get, I'm on a break anyways." He turns his back to the bar and speaks again. "When I finish this mug though? Well, gotta earn those tax dollars some how."

This causes a small surge of people who leave their bottles and glasses behind as they make for the door. You notice Raul still locked in on his phone, typing with a single hand before he stuffs it in his pocket and joins the mass of people. He grabs a hoodie from the front door and throws it on with a hood up. You smirk when Hawthorne says to you:

"Go out and start the shop up, rook. Make sure you sit in it while it warms up."

"Yes, sir." You drone in the most miserable tone you can force and join the precession as it spills onto the sidewalk.

Your eyes never leave that hood as it bobs through the crowd, slipping between disgruntled students deprived of a beer at eleven in the morning. You settle into the driver seat and crank the key enough to kick the heating on and relish in warmth that creeps through the fibers of your uniform. The street is lined with cars... you just have to find the one he's taking and... there.

You pull out your notepad and jot down the make, model, and color as best you can tell. The plate number joins it on the page right before he flips around in the road and heads north, straight for the highway that takes him to Amusement Mile. You keep your head down as he passes by, tail-lights disappearing as he rounds the corner. You give it another minute or two to be sure and then hop out and head right back inside just to see Hawthorne already approaching the door.

"What're ya getting out for? Go!" He hollers.

"B-b-bu-but, sir! Your c--caw--cuh-c-coffee!" The Bartender calls from behind him. Hawthorne doesn't bother looking back as you turn on your heel and run back to the shop jumping in the front seat and turning the engine over fully as you pull away from the curb.

"Bit of a dick move to get him starting another pot that you weren't even gonna drink, dontya think?"

"Coulda shuttered his bar." Hawthorne counters.

"Fair enough." You reply, tossing your notepad into his lap as you round the corner. "Got the vehicle details."

"Good work, he went this way? North?"

"Mhm."

"I still fuckin got it." Hawthorne declares quietly. "Kids these days're easier to read than Doctor Suess."

"What's the plan when we get there?"

"You tell me, I set you up now it's time for you to score. I can't do all the heavy lifting."

"You did one thing." You grumble. "But uh..."

>"Whoever his guests are, I wanna get em all in the same place at the same time. Association means we have probable cause to nab em, you and I go in while Kimble watches the front."
>"We should find out who the other guests are before deciding on anything, GCPD has resources like our shared database with the DMV right? While they have their meeting we collect plates and get some names."
>"We take em full force in the middle of their meeting. Kimble and his second can come with us, a four man team means we can handle three suspects easily."
>"No man is an island, like you said. Maybe we could loop traffic in on this? Once we have his car and the other guys he's meeting with we could track em all over the city or set up individual tails. Play the longer game and nab him on something more concrete than his little brother being a banger."
>Write-In

>>6357500
>"No man is an island, like you said. Maybe we could loop traffic in on this? Once we have his car and the other guys he's meeting with we could track em all over the city or set up individual tails. Play the longer game and nab him on something more concrete than his little brother being a banger."
These guys are peons. We want their bosses, and their operation. Better to get our details and let them loose, then track where they're going and investigate those area for bigger fish. Supervillains and capos.

>>6357500
>"No man is an island, like you said. Maybe we could loop traffic in on this? Once we have his car and the other guys he's meeting with we could track em all over the city or set up individual tails. Play the longer game and nab him on something more concrete than his little brother being a banger."
These guys are just kids playing at being "revolutionaries".

>>6357500
>"We should find out who the other guests are before deciding on anything, GCPD has resources like our shared database with the DMV right? While they have their meeting we collect plates and get some names."
I want to know if he's meeting someone we should give a shit about or if it's just more LARPers.

>>6357500
>"We should find out who the other guests are before deciding on anything, GCPD has resources like our shared database with the DMV right? While they have their meeting we collect plates and get some names."

>>6357541
>>6357561
Think any of them are dead ends instead? Why not traffic to trace plates on the others if they're students

>>6357500
>"No man is an island, like you said. Maybe we could loop traffic in on this? Once we have his car and the other guys he's meeting with we could track em all over the city or set up individual tails. Play the longer game and nab him on something more concrete than his little brother being a banger."
Seems like the move to me. He could be meeting with someone that has superpowers or just batman-like skills/gear. If we let him bounce on the bar we should commit to this strategy and cast a wide net. They aren't onto us yet, though I am gonna anticipate that the window on that will close soon. Raul is a catch specifically because having a family member will let us leverage partial immunity, and it'd be wise to arrest him before charges are publicly pressed on his sibling; idunno if he would have been clued in on the lab bust yet, and even if he was, idunno if he'd be able to know for sure that his brother was captured.

>>6357510
>>6357525
>>6357645

"No man is an island, like you said. Maybe we could loop traffic in on this? Once we have his car and the other guys he's meeting with we could track em all over the city or set up individual tails. Play the longer game and nab him on something more concrete than his little brother being a banger."

"Like?"

"Who knows? Could be meeting with someone else who's powered like Crane's wife or geared up like Firebug. So we cast a wide net and only move on Raul after the meeting."

"So you wanna pick Raul up today?"

"Before we publicly charge his brother with anything at least. Raid wasn't in the paper so I'm guessing Gordon and City Hall want it hush? Gives us until tomorrow at least, they were supposed to move."

"Dent wants to keep the raid under wraps so he can drop the news himself. Apparently he's got some speech planned for the end of the week. He's hoping by December he can loop in another win with Grey wrapping up the SIM and Mandragora case." Hawthorne leans back in his seat with a contemptuous grimace. "Then he gets to ride into the new year and new election cycle as the Mayor who stopped a major serial killer and Scarecrow attack. Press'll eat him up."

"Jesus, he's expecting a lot from the GCPD, especially considering his whole 'Police the police' angle."

"Yeah well, we've been moving fast these last two months. But you aint wrong. Grey's under some serious pressure..." Hawthorne trails off.

"Worried about him?"

"Hell no." Hawthorne snaps, but not with any real heat. "Just know the son of a bitch is all."

You both sit in silence for a few seconds before Hawthorne clears his throat and grabs the dash radio. Holding it close and speaking clearly.

"Dispatch, this is 1-Adam-0, can I get a 10-11 on the most senior Traffic officer who's working right now?"

"10-4, Sergeant. Hold." A few seconds pass until it crackles again. "1-Adam-0 go to Channel 8."

"Thanks Dispatch, out." Hawthorne says before twisting the dial. "Sergeant McClintic?"

"Mitchell Hawthorne." A weary voice from the other end replies. "What can I do for you?"

"Well I got something here that isn't parking enforcement or a buzzed driver bumping a city bus."

"How exciting." McClintic says dryly. "Wanna be more specific."

"Got a set of plates I want you to put the traffic cams on lookout for. Flag em, should have more for you before too long on top of that. Give you something to do behind that desk of yours."

"Surprised you didn't go to the Commissioner's kid with this."

"Word is, QRT has her on loan. Besides, I want cops on this, no offense to Gordon's girl of course. But any acronym other than GCPD does the leg work that's what gets on the front page."

"You start caring about glory, Mitch?"

"Hell no." He chuckles before giving you a side glance. "But my rookie wants to be in the paper."

"Didn't we all." McClintic drawls. "Consider it done, Mitch."

"Good hearing from you, pal. Keep a line open for the other plates, I'll get em to you in a batch."

The radio goes dead and you shake your head.

"When are you gonna let the paper thing go?"

"Never." He answers simply with a grin as he checks his phone. "Oh! Kimble has eyes on Raul. Kid parked up and went inside, just parked on the boardwalk like normal but went into the wreck of the park."

"That happened while I was gone, the demolition, they haven't done any work on it?"

"The city, meaning Dent and Gordon, aren't in a hurry to put it back together after what happened with Ba-"

"Dispatch to 1-Adam-0. Please respond."

"Dispatch, 1-Adam-0 here. Calling back so soon, you miss me?" Hawthorne says.

"Negative, this is a 10-5 from Commander Reiner."

"Shit... hit me then."

"Negative, 10-5 is designated for Officer DeLucia."

Hawthorne gives you a puzzled look and hands the transceiver over. You raise it and depress the button with a firm click.

"Officer DeLucia speaking." You say simply.

"Relaying a message for you, Officer. 10-19 Precinct 1 ASAP. Code Black."

10-19, a call to return to the station. But that code...

"What the hell?" Hawthorne grunts to himself. "Ask her to repeat that."

"Uh, repeat." You say into the transceiver.

"10-19, Precinct 1, Code Black."

"10-4." You reply back, setting the transceiver into it's cradle. "Sir, what's code black? That isn't in any of our handbooks."

"It's because it's an in-house term started by Loeb. We threw it out when Gordon took over."

"What's it mean?"

"Means a black out. Media and in-house. Whatever it is he isn't willing to talk to you about it over the radio or phone. Can't risk media or anyone else learning about it. Loeb usually called it in whenever it was something involving his dirty laundry."

"So if the Commander is using it... must be serious yeah?"

"Yeah. Serious enough that you should put your foot down, drop me off with Kimble and then get back to the station as fast as you can."

"Drop you off?" You ask, you feel your gut lock up and the hair on your neck stiffen. It feels like someone is watching you.

"Message was for you, rook. Dispatch made that clear by having me hand the radio over."

"Yeah but I mean it's not like you didn't hear it-"

"Doesn't. Matter." He says firmly. "If Reiner wanted me he'd have asked for me. He wants you, so go. I'll keep Kimble and Costas in-line. Figure out what I can from the guests."

>"No way, I didn't get this far to turn around right before we get to see them. If it's a black out then that means there's no rush right? I'll just stick around long enough to get eyes and see if I can Shivers anything up."
>"Understood, sir. Just, keep it to eyes only? We don't wanna spook em, let the cameras do the following. Have Kimble get some clear pictures."
>"Fine... just don't let that Raul kid slip you. Grab him after he gets back to his dorm or something? Won't be long before the organization finds out nobody moved shop."
>"Well if he didn't want you to come, he should have said so. I'm bringing you with me, I'm a better cop when I have you around to bounce ideas off of."
>Write-In

>>6357980
>>"Fine... just don't let that Raul kid slip you. Grab him after he gets back to his dorm or something? Won't be long before the organization finds out nobody moved shop.
Surely, this isn't something related to SIM.

>>6357980
>"Fine... just don't let that Raul kid slip you. Grab him after he gets back to his dorm or something? Won't be long before the organization finds out nobody moved shop."

>>6357995
Surely Mark’s parents or girlfriend are not currently chained to a radiator in a condemned building listening to that freak wax poetic about “cleansing the city”.

>>6357980
>"Fine... just don't let that Raul kid slip you. Grab him after he gets back to his dorm or something? Won't be long before the organization finds out nobody moved shop."

>>6357980
>"Fine... just don't let that Raul kid slip you. Grab him after he gets back to his dorm or something? Won't be long before the organization finds out nobody moved shop.
SIM dies today

>>6357979
>"The city, meaning Dent and Gordon, aren't in a hurry to put it back together after what happened with Ba-"
Oh shit, it's the amusement park from The Killing Joke.

>>6357980
>"Fine... just don't let that Raul kid slip you. Grab him after he gets back to his dorm or something? Won't be long before the organization finds out nobody moved shop."

>>6357995
>>6358011
>>6358040
Go-time, anons.

>>6357995
Could be the results of the blood tests...

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312 KB JPG

>>6358147
The quest will end the same way as that play from Team America: everyone has AIDS.

>>6357995
>>6358011
>>6358034
>>6358040
>>6358084

You grip the wheel tightly for a moment. Only to relax your grip after a few seconds and nod as the light turns green and you take the last turn.

"Fine... just don't let that Raul kid slip you. Grab him after he gets back to his dorm or something? Won't be long before the organization finds out nobody moved shop."

"Ha. Little shit like that couldn't slip me on his best day. I'm fuckin velcro." He says with a sly smile.

"I trust you." You reply simply. "And Kimble."

"It'll get done. Don't let it distract you from whatever Reiner lays down for you. Another lesson, rook." He waits for you to slow down as you approach the corner just down the street from Kimble's reported stake-out spot. "There's never a case more important than the one in front of ya. Doesn't mean you neglect your other cases, but when you're working one you only work the one. You understand me?"

"I think so." You offer.

"You're a smart kid, you'll figure it out on the drive over. Now get the hell out of here before you blow our cover with this damn thing." He says over his shoulder as he hops out the passenger door, the entire time unbuttoning his deep blue work shirt to reveal a grey sweatshirt.

"Layering up?" You prod.

"Ah fuck you. I'm an old ass man, I get cold."

You go to give him one final stinger for the road when you get a clump of fabric to the chest and watch it fall over the gearshift.

"Put that in my locker when you have a second." He says with the last laugh.

"Right. Good luck, sir." You offer up.

====

The longer you drive back to the station the stronger that sensation of being watched grows. Your stomach rolls like an insomniac as a few drops of cold sweat start to form at your neck. You haven't felt like this since you insisted on doing a talent show in middle school, an anxiety born from knowing you would have eyes on you and with those eyes , the expectations. But something nags at you, a recurring thought that skirmishes with your deeper thinking, is this fear because you're scared to mess up this "show" or is it from feeling like you're on-stage at all? Or... maybe you fear the audience.

As you turn into the parking lot your distracted thoughts are banished by a more concrete source of confusion. A lone white box truck sits in the middle of the front-side parking lot. As you park and step out you mentally note that the civilians and staff vehicles weren't simply moved, they were entirely vacated. A small awning is set up with a medic cross and more than a few pale and clammy patients... fellow officers.

A few Officers stand by a series of sawhorse barricades emblazoned with the words "TRAINING IN PROGRESS" creating a perimeter around the truck isolating it from the rest of the lot. As you approach one of them lifts a hand as he gets his radio.

"Name?"

"Officer Mark DeLucia, Commander Reiner sent for me?"

"He's here, sir." The officer, Yusef, speaks calmly into the radio.

"Send him through." Reiner's voice replies.

The Officer lifts the thick wooden board and steps aside to let you pass. As you do, he mutters to you.

"Shit is bad..."

You head deeper in and notice more heads than one looking at you. You try a casual smile but you can tell it comes out... wrong. A tightness in your chest makes breathing into something you need to put more than thought into and the closer you get to the truck the worse the feeling is. Commander Reiner stands above a massive sheet of plastic tarp above a few crime scene techs who fiddle with field kits. His glasses are clenched in his hand and his eyes are focused on the truck, staring at the back of it, only looking away when your footsteps catch his ear.

"Ah, DeLucia." He says quietly, his eyes sunken and his skin ashen. "Thanks for coming."

"Didn't really have a choice." You try to joke but Reiner only nods.

"No, I suppose you didn't." He glances at the truck again and sighs.

"Everything okay? Hawthorne explained a 'code black' to me, I didn't even know we did stuff like that."

"We don't." He says firmly before he lightens up. "At least we shouldn't. But this is... it's a lot."

"You're making me nervous, sir. What did you need from me?"

"What only you can do. Hennelly had a lot of good things to say about you after you helped QRT with the lab raid."

"Yes, sir. I'm assuming you're hoping I can do the same thing today with... whatever this is?"

"I don't want to put you under any pressure. It's... a lot." He pauses for a moment to assess your reaction, it's mostly confusion. "Look, you're a rookie officer. I'm not gonna ask you to do anything yet. I'm just... Just gonna show you."

Without a reply he immediately heads for the truck raising his voice before calling.

"MOVE DOWNWIND."

You follow after him, feeling like you're eight chasing after your dad again, you can't help but pick up on the speed at which people move away. Whatever is in this truck, nobody is eager to see, or apparently smell, it again. Reiner gets before the doors and seats his glasses on the bridge of his nose with a determined huff before gripping the cold white handle and looking at you over his shoulder.

File: AIForShockValueNgl.png (1.3 MB)

1.3 MB PNG

"If you have to throw up, it's okay. You wouldn't be the first today, it doesn't mean anything."

"Wha-"

Your words are cut off by the heavy clank of the lever disengaging as Reiner groans and walks backwards opening the rear of the truck and unleashing a hellish miasma.

Your eyes water before the smell even hits you but when it does, it strikes you almost physically, as the air is pushed out of your chest by a gasp mixed with a gag. You put a hand on your knee as you're subjected to the onslaught of layered rot that oozes out into the chilled air like a poison that clings to the back of your throat. Shit and copper. Rotten produce with a sharp sweetness. You can feel your stomach gurgling as you take in the haphazardly covered bodies that litter the truck floor; some of them maybe only a day old closer to the door while the ones further back are little more than the curdled remains of what was once human. Hand smeared on the back of the truck, looming over the pile of corpses, is a message scrawled in blood that has turned a deep brown with highlights of crimson:

APOKOLIPS IS

You feel a firm hand rest between your shoulder blades and another grip your shoulder. Your mouth floods with saliva like it's trying to wash this necrotic film from the inside of you. You let out a shuddering breath and feel something acidic rising on the back of your throat.

"It's alright. Do what you have to.." Reiner reiterates.

>Throw up. You can't stop it at this point anyways, better to get it out of the way so you can try to focus.
>Try to not throw up. You're a professional, or at least supposed to be. You need to straight up, wipe your eyes, and get to work.
>Force yourself closer, just let it wash over you and force yourself to get used to it sooner rather than later.
>Take a short walk away from this. You weren't ready for that, nowhere close. Get some fresh air and do a few of Jones' breathing exercises to get your head back on straight. Then, try again.
>Write-In

>>6358357
>Throw up. You can't stop it at this point anyways, better to get it out of the way so you can try to focus.
Speaking from experience, the best way to get over it is to get it out of the way. Better we empty our stomach before we get into the psychic weeds on this anyways.

>>6358357
>Throw up. You can't stop it at this point anyways, better to get it out of the way so you can try to focus.
Hopefully Mark’s lunch wasn’t too heavy today.

>>6358357
>Throw up. You can't stop it at this point anyways, better to get it out of the way so you can try to focus.
He might have Shivers, but Mark does NOT have his shit together. He is not a living walking volumetric shit compressor with his shit compressed to the density of neutron stars in its togetherness. He is nowhere close to Hawthorne or Grey or even Reiner's level yet

>>6358357
>>Throw up. You can't stop it at this point anyways, better to get it out of the way so you can try to focus.
Yeah, okay, that's not exactly the involvement I thought SIM would have, but jeez. Wonder who the detective they have working on this considering Grey needs to give all his attention to the fuckery going on involving ARGUS.

>>6358417
They can't take Grey off Calc's case either. ARGUS and by extension Dent wouldn't have any of it if Reiner tried. Whoever they have on SIM now needs to be fully briefed on it so they know the exact psycho he is... though if they see this truck, they'll know

>>6358357
>Take a short walk away from this. You weren't ready for that, nowhere close. Get some fresh air and do a few of Jones' breathing exercises to get your head back on straight. Then, try again.
Meta Martian Breathing, First Form: Don't Puke!

>>6358357
>Throw up. You can't stop it at this point anyways, better to get it out of the way so you can try to focus.

>>6358084
>Oh shit, it's the amusement park from The Killing Joke.
It makes sense desu, a huge giveaway was Barbara helping the special forces with intelligence and stuff. If it didn't happened maybe she was at college or something else idk

>>6358357
>”…aim me.”
>Throw up.

Wonder if some of the SIM cards we first found are to these victims…

>>6358464
I assumed she was Oracle, but hadn't pieced together that the Anarkists were operating out of the exact same park.

>>6358359
>>6358383
>>6358407
>>6358417
>>6358449
>>6358497

You grit your teeth as the acidic tide rises. You manage to grunt out a single request.

"Aim me..."

Reiner grips your shirt and turns you to the side as you let loose a spew of this morning's breakfast bars and stale bullpen coffee. You retch dryly as others around you look away and cover their own noses. Reiner pats your back as you feel the nasal drip stinging down your throat.

"You're alright." Reiner reassures you. "You're only human, just like the rest of us. You'll get a tougher stomach down the line."

You nod, shaking free the droplets of tear clinging to your lashes, the back of your hand wipes across your face as you straighten up. You give what could pass as a wave to the few sympathetic faces still watching and face Reiner.

"Lucky I skipped lunch, I guess..."

"I don't think any of us are lucky today." Reiner says, his eyes lingering on the inside of the truck.

"How did this happen?"

"Well, CCTV shows the truck being pulled into the parking lot around eleven fifty. We didn't get a good shot of the driver's face but the outfit he was in line's up with your report from Wayne Tower, when you met. He leaves and within ten minutes it's reported, Officer Chen checks it out and..."

"So why the code black?"

"We've been building up faith in the GCPD for months now, we might be low on funds and thin on manpower but our approval with citizens is rising. People are starting to believe in the GCPD again instead of hoping Batman comes to save em."

"And you don't want to undermine that by advertising someone drove a truck full of corpses onto our front yard and walked away."

"Essentially." He confirms. "Some people noticed the commotion and I cleared the area. Passed onto press it was a training exercise using simulated corpses. Just a time buyer is all."

"Right." You grunt, taking a moment to shake off the rumblings of nausea still lingering. "Who's the lead detective on this with Grey handling ARGUS?"

"I am." He says firmly. "I was a detective in Missing Persons back home, before I took the job here as Watch Commander."

"Wow, uh. Alright, go ahead then. Tell me what you've got."

"We've been running fingerprints since, we estimate no less than fifteen bodies but until we get them out onto a sheet... we can't be certain. We also have a pretty good idea of time, at least some of em. The ones closest to the door are fresher, rigor is lighter, less bloat, the usual signs. Ones in the back?" He huffs once. "Old. Estimate of a month and some change on the furthest one back. Vics are majority male and adult, though all the women we've ID's thus far are known sex workers."

"The other IDs? Any common theme?"

"Impoverished, most of the prints we pulled pinged in social services."

"He's been lurking around the Narrows. Probably can't venture too far out."

"All of the vics went out the same way, but through various means. Blood loss. Throat, wrists, or heart. Only seen the heart kills on the women."

"He's got a soft spot for sex workers." You say quietly, almost without meaning to.

"We also found one thing. Hand closest to the door had this in her fist." He gestures to a crime scene tech who brings over a baggie. "We assume this is due to Gordon ignoring his letter. Another way to reach out."

Your stomach lurches again, tightening around the void you recently created, for a moment you're thankful it's already all gone because between you Reiner holds up a small silver burner phone. The same cheap brand that you'd spoken with SIM over so many times.

"I've seen this before. He must have a whole pile of em..."

"Mobster's tend to buy in bulk. Probably took a heap of burners with em after we kicked Mandragora's operation out at the knees. No calls to or from, SIM card is clean as well. We assume he's gonna use it to call us with demands or maybe just to hear the sound of his own voice."

"And the... message?" You ask, vaguely gesturing at the back of the truck.

"Fits the religious psychosis you mentioned, saving people from eternal hell by sending their souls to heaven early... only he didn't finish it. Usually they stick a 'nigh' at the end of their doomsday declarations. We're thinking maybe he ran out of blood or time."

"Maybe it's the whole message." You say without really thinking about it, almost instinctually.

"Makes no sense then. Could mean he's deteriorating, it's what the spelling implied to me."

"The spelling? How?"

"I have access to the jackets of every officer, including their entire history at academy. He had top marks, like you, but still spelt 'apocalypse' like a fourth grader. You really think it's intentional?"

You stare at the words and feel that awful sense of deja vu. But the more you dwell on the thought the louder the sound of your own heartbeat becomes in your ears. You pull your eyes away and rub your jaw thoughtfully.

"I don't know..."

"Well, I'm putting my chips on you that you can find out. Open to take a run at it?"

"Yes, sir." You say, feeling a bit more grit in your gut now.

"If you need anything to help, just let me know." He stands back and folds his arms. Watching.

>Focus on the cell phone, it was the last thing he touched. It had to have been. "Could you hand me the cell phone?"
>Focus on the woman closest to the door, her hand still extended like a call for help. "Pass me a glove... I think my best bet is to... make contact."
>Focus on the message on the back wall, it's falling flakes of blood.
>Write-In

>>6358764
>Focus on the woman closest to the door, her hand still extended like a call for help. "Pass me a glove... I think my best bet is to... make contact."
I think this is worth the risk if we can narrow down exactly where and when she was slain. I'm willing to bet money that SIM had a hiding spot he committed the majority of these murders in, just as a matter of practicality. I'm also willing to bet he's counting on us finding it and has it trapped, but that goes without saying. Either way, we gotta find it on the off-chance he's still there waiting for us.

>>6358764
>Focus on the woman closest to the door, her hand still extended like a call for help. "Pass me a glove... I think my best bet is to... make contact."

>>6358764
>Focus on the woman closest to the door, her hand still extended like a call for help. "Pass me a glove... I think my best bet is to... make contact."
Requiescat in pace

>>6358764
>Focus on the woman closest to the door, her hand still extended like a call for help. "Pass me a glove... I think my best bet is to... make contact."

>>6358764
>>Focus on the message on the back wall, it's falling flakes of blood.

>>6358764
>Focus on the message on the back wall, it's falling flakes of blood.

>>6358764
>Focus on the message on the back wall, it's falling flakes of blood.
We know what it is out-of-character obviously, but in-character we're chasing the gang of a masked villain who spells his name "Anarky." If I was Mark, I'd think SIM had adopted an identity, like Gotham kooks tend to do.

>>6358999
Trips witnessed.. and also I suppose you have a good point here. I guess I sort of assumed that Apokolips was something that the average cop - Rookie or not - is at least vaguely aware of, yaknow, on account of guys from there showing up every so often to topple buildings and kill people.

QM could you clarify whether Mark, or any GPD officers, have a clue about that word? Seeing as Dent is pre-Twoface, it's conceivable to me that there maybe has not yet been a global invasion by Darksied or his people as of yet.

>>6359010
When we mentioned a big planet with firepits, Batman was alarmed and assumed aliens, but didn't say "oh shit, Darkseid, I know that guy," so I assume the New Gods are not widely known.

>>6359016
Yaknow what, I totally forgot about that! But now that you say so, I'm smelling what you're stepping in.

>>6358853
>>6358874
>>6358999
>>6359010

Sorry for the delay, unexpected scheduling issues with work. Gonna take the roll now and then post tomorrow despite it being my usual day off.

1d100 Best of Three.

Also;
>>6359010
>>6359016

There is no public knowledge about Darkseid, New Genesis, or any of that. None at all, Mother Boxes and Father Boxes are still very recent discoveries in my timeline.

Rolled 54 (1d100)

>>6359468
They see me rollan'...

Rolled 34 (1d100)

>>6359475
Theyy hatiin`.....

Rolled 24 (1d100)

>>6359468

SIM is always our damn Achilles heel. Even the dice know to make shit involving him way more difficult for drama sake.

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>>6358775
>>6358784
>>6358817
>>6358834

"Pass me a glove... I think my best bet is to... make contact." You mutter, eyes unable to pull away from the cool pallor of her stiff fingers.

Reiner works without comment, peeling black latex gloves from a small box on the ground and passing you a set. He's watching you now with that same appraising eye he had in your early weeks. The latex snaps and you let a slow breath out as you try to clear your mind of the stench and the disgust as you pull yourself onto the back of the truck. Kneeling down you resist the temptation of pulling the sheet back to reveal her face, you need as few distractions as possible... but there is one thing you feel like you can't ignore, not with this strange... malice in the air. You dig into your memory and pull memories of Nonno and Sunday School forward.

“In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. May God who formed you receive you, and may the earth give you peace. Amen.” You whisper with closed eyes before extending your arm to grasp her frozen hand.

You feel the way her bones creak in resistance as you tighten your grip ever so slightly and let the voices in. As the cacophony blends into a slurred mess of noise you feel her hand squeeze back firmly. Too firm. You open your eyes to neon tinted darkness. Green and Red flicker in equal amounts ahead only to vanish as the glow of the 'Bar Hall' fades further behind. Your feet splash through shallow puddles as you're led by the tight grip of a man's gloved hand. You're nervous but there's also an itch behind your eyes that you can't blink away... you know you shouldn't but...

"You said you had drops, right?" You find yourself asking.

The grip tightens for a moment, bordering on painful, but you can't find yourself to care about anything besides the answer. Then it relaxes slightly as he speaks.

"Yeah, lots of drops. I have a plug who hooks me up." He says simply. "Just a bit further, I stay out of the way so nobody rips me off, you know?"

You find yourself nodding, it makes sense, but that lingering sense of danger remains. You, the real you, tries to take in everything in her vision. You desperately search for signs of businesses, notable graffiti, and then you spot it. For the briefest of moments that red and green light flickers to life again. A cherry... It sparks something in the woman's head but you can't get to the thought, buried beneath chemical desire and a mounting fear.

"Wasn't this....?" You trail off as the aforementioned thought eludes you. But he seems to understand what you meant.

"It was." He says simply. "But ever since that guy got his arm ripped off people don't come around here anymore. Works for me, I like privacy."

Something in the way he says privacy makes your skin crawl but your doubts, along with any other thoughts, are completely washed away as he reaches in his pocket and produces an old ring of keys and with it a scrap of trash. Trash you recognize.

The wrapper for a whole pack of drops... if he has that then he could have days worth of hits. He may be a little creepy but you've handled worse. You emerge through the other end of the archway and he turns to a stained and rusted door, unlocking it promptly before opening and stepping aside.

"Ladies first." He says.

You can see his face clearly now as he lifts his head. It's Vic, his same over-enthusiastic grin stapled to his face. No shade and shadow anymore. You see him.

You feel the push and pull inside this woman's head but ultimately her feet move without consulting her brain and you waltz into the dingy darkness as he seals the door behind you both. The space isn't as bad as you expected, there's furniture, a few lamps and hanging bulbs give the space a warm and delicate lighting. Which is required seeing as every window has ply-wood or thick cloth coverings. He removes his hat and tosses it onto a nearby crate before shuffling around it to pull out a shoebox.

"Help yourself." He says politely as he sets the box down on a ratty table that sits in front of a weathered love seat. "I'm no stranger to this so, feel free to take some before we get started. If that makes it easier for you."

You feel the seat give slightly under you as you settle down and he retreats into the darkness where you can only faintly make him out. Your eyes can't pull off the box, small amber bulbs just barely reflecting the low light. You reach forward and pluck one from it's alcove. You're already tearing up just looking at it, but you also look at the others still lying in the box. He must have noticed too because as he begins unzipping his jacket he speaks again.

"Feel free to take more than one dose, if you want. I hear the sweet spot is around three blinkers." He chuckles like he's told himself a joke in his head. "I mean after all, you can't take em with ya."

You don't need any further permission. You snatch up another few bottles, maybe one or two more than he implied you could have. But you're quick, while he pulls his shirt over his head you take the opportunity to deposit the stolen drops into your handbag, he won't know any better with the supply he has here. You twist the plastic tab at the top and flick it into a distant corner, a move that gets a chuckle out of the man before you upend the bottle and gently squeeze two drops into the widening maw of your pupil. You feel the liquid hit and then electricity as your eye swivels like an oiled ball bearing.

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The jingle of his belt buckle is the soundtrack to your second dose. Hitting the other eye now until that rough itching on the back of your eyeball is soothed by the cool spread of the drops. You sigh in relief as his pants hit the floor and he steps forward into the light. Your vision is streaky and pulsing, the world a glass pane smeared with oil. The drops cause your eyes to lose focus as you sink into the couch fully. Every blink gives you a second of clarity before the film returns over everything and it's in that second that you see him. Fully prepared.

The first thing you notice are the scars. Down to only his boxers, it's impossible not to see them now, pale lines mark his legs in neat rows with the majority slashed through. A few lines even peek out from the hem of his underwear. His chest is decorated with raised skin, only these ones are fresher. Dark reds and vibrant pinks, freshly healed or still healing skin. A brown scab lies across a row of older tallies. That freaky fucking smile is still on his face as he slowly advances.

"What... fuck...?" You manage to breathe out.

"I want you to know I'm not doing this for... pleasure. Getting clothes that fit is just a little tricky right now. Can't let them get messy."

"Fuck... away..." You gasp before your eyes roll back as a wave of euphoria tenses the muscles in your gut.

"Can't do that." He says in a somber voice. "I still have to save you. You should be glad that it was someone like me picked for this. Someone... from all of this. In a way. Anyone else would have started at city hall or the heights. They wouldn't have bothered saving 'the dregs' of society."

The words aren't even reaching her anymore as her brain dissolves into fractal shapes and endless spirals of color. But you're still listening intently and watching through your own eyes as you pull back from the woman. You watch him meander closer until he picks up the shoe box and reaches beneath it. You hear a small tearing sound and he produces a needle.

"This will knock you out." He speaks softly, reverently. "Being saved is far from painless, but I'll do the best I can for you."

You watch the needle slip into the soft flesh of her neck as her glassy eyes begin to swim and the eyelids flutter. Within a few minutes she's unconscious and you feel your grip slipping as he lifts her body and holds her to his chest as he marches into the deeper gloom of whatever this place is. The further he goes the dryer your eyes feel. The more they burn. The more they yearn for just one...

Blink.

You open your eyes and feel some moisture rolling down to the point of your chin. Your hand is gripping tightly to the dead woman's hand, her fingers crossed and bent in your palm. You release slowly and watch as the fingers remain in their new position. You mumble another prayer and wipe the tear from your face with your clean hand before degloving and dropping off the back of the truck. Reiner doesn't approach you, instead letting you collect your bearings, which for you means a few laps of pacing as you blink rapidly to banish the phantom itch that followed you. After a minute or so you head over to him.

"What'd you see?"

"Not much." You say sadly. "Confirmed he's prowling the Narrows, preying mainly on sex workers and the others who can't make it out."

"Any idea on where he's staying?"

"I saw something for a moment, a flicker of a neon sign, it was two cherries with the stem. She knew something about it but she was strung out, too strung out for me to push on that. He mentioned something about someone having their arm torn off?"

"Jesus. Doesn't ring a bell... and that's the sort of thing that would ring a lot of bells. Must've gone unreported... Anything else?"

"I don't think we were fully correct about his motivations. He isn't operating there because he's mainly concerned with not getting caught, he thinks they deserve 'salvation' more."

"So he drinks his own kool-aid." Reiner states quietly. "Could be useful info, something we can try and take advantage of if he calls us."

"Maybe but he's cautious. Extremely. Took off his clothes to make his kill, apparently he's laying so low he won't even go out and buy anything new."

"Good. That means the outfit we caught him on with CCTV is what he'll be in for the next few days, hopefully."

"Not only that, he's deteriorating. He's cutting himself, more like scarring I guess. Tally lines, probably one for each victim. I had a vision before of him in a crawlspace and he was doing the same things on the foundation... Guessing he shifted to doing it to himself since he cut ties with Mandragora."

"You got a real winner for your first big case. Not a lot to go on but I can't imagine a man having his arm taken off is gonna be something hard to learn about, the detail about the cherry also helps. If you're interested, you can help me process the truck and the vics. Maybe you'll learn something, but if you'd rather go off clock now, I know your visions can take it out of you."

>"I'm fine, the sooner we can get these people out of this truck and somewhere proper, the better."
>"I think I'll take that offer to wrap my shift, sir. I'm expecting some photos soon that I need to bring to a friend of mine, part of the Anarky case. I can do that without billing the department."
>"I think I can look into the cherry on my own time, sir. Hawthorne and Grey are both from the Narrows, maybe they have an idea?"
>"I think I can look into the victim, the woman, she was a drop head and SIM was hoarding the stuff. I have a CI who's tapped into the drug flow, maybe he can give me a point in the right direction?"
>"I think I might actually know a guy who can look into that cherry, arm-ripping situation. He's a... Private Investigator. (Contact Question)
>Write-In



Large text walls mean only one thing. Let me know what you feel about the vision and that whole section in general. I'm also curious to know what you guys think of SIM, or Vic Rogers/Zsasz, at this current moment. He's been out of the story for a little bit but I have been keeping him busy in the background.

As always, eager to hear any theories, questions, or comments on the update. Early Sunday updates will also be returning as it seems my schedule might finally be reaching a settling point post-holiday. Sorry for the inconsistency as of late, but with this shit out of the way we should be back on track! See you soon.

>>6359865
>"I think I might actually know a guy who can look into that cherry, arm-ripping situation. He's a... Private Investigator. (Contact Question)

>What you think
Zsasz is an extremely baller and extremely underrated villain. I am excited to see him develop skills as a killer as we develop skills as a cop. I am thinking about his interview tapes from the first Arkham game, and how he seemed to be able to infiltrate, stalk, catalogue info, and frighten his targets with such total precision - it reminded me a lot of Batman! I think he is frightening because of his ideology, but also his skill as a non-powered serial killer. Like many DC villains/heroes, what he has instead of superpowers is WILLPOWER. Excited for him to feature more in the plot.

Also, I will just say that I have personal trauma from homelessness and sex work, and while creeps and killers targeting that population can sometimes make me really sad, I can also say I know firsthand that it's real as hell; there is something vindicating about the fantasy of bringing that kind of predator to justice. Other anons may feel differently, but if I think it might be cool if, as he gets into pursuit, Mark meets and befriends a prostitute (or maybe brothel worker, or dominatrix, idk) that has some real agency or even the ability to genuinely be helpful. Someone that isn't JUST vulnerable or desperate due to poverty/drugs/trauma. I think you do a very good job of humanizing criminal elements and showing a vision of a positive relationship between cops and people that get into crime/criminal markets because of things beyond their control. In the same way that I like capeshit for showing me a vision of a world where someone with immense power *chooses to give it away*, I also like it for showing me a vision of a world where cops *actually help people* and aren't by and large part of a larger cycle of pain and repression. When I was in a position not terribly unlike the woman you just described, cops threatened me more. So, idunno, I am only speaking for myself but I have a real appreciation for the rare story that manages to convincingly depict an alternative to that dynamic, if that makes sense.

>>6359865
>>"I think I might actually know a guy who can look into that cherry, arm-ripping situation. He's a... Private Investigator. (Contact Question)

Let Question dig, we can help Reiner with the processing

>>6359865
>"I think I can look into the victim, the woman, she was a drop head and SIM was hoarding the stuff. I have a CI who's tapped into the drug flow, maybe he can give me a point in the right direction?"
Wallace may prove useful yet again.

>I'm also curious to know what you guys think of SIM, or Vic Rogers/Zsasz
It's a good pick. Is it a coincidence that both of Mark's main "super" connection, hero and villain, are both named Victor Szasz, or did you do that on purpose?

>>6359914
Nope, unintentional lol

Though to be fair they only share half a name since Question's is Vic Sage. But it didnt even dawn on me until multiple threads deep.

I also decided to go with "Vic" Rogers for SIM as opposed to Victor because I was worried that a sharp reader could call the Zsasz ID early.

I also almost didn't use VZ as the main personal antagonist to Mark because I was debating between him or Professor Pyg. Realized that I know much more about VZ than Pyg and also I felt like Victor was a much more customizable villain, if that makes sense. His gimmick could come from a lot of things so it gave me more freedom to make his motivations match the story.

>>6359865
>"I think I might actually know a guy who can look into that cherry, arm-ripping situation. He's a... Private Investigator. (Contact Question)

FUCK YES ITS OUR FACELESS BRO

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>>6359933
>Though to be fair they only share half a name since Question's is Vic Sage.
Actually, much like Rogers... Sage is a pseudonym.

>>6359941
I've been out cape-shitted in my own thread, I guess the Alias is yours now. Good luck, I left the story beats in the top drawer.

Really though, I can't believe I didn't know that, or maybe just didnt remember based on the amount of times I subconsciously spelled Zsasz as Szazs and had to stare at it for a couple seconds before fixing it.

>>6359865
>"I think I might actually know a guy who can look into that cherry, arm-ripping situation. He's a... Private Investigator. (Contact Question)
The Q returns...

>>6359948
Obviously, the mysterious spirit of Gotham works in mysterious ways, kek.

>>6359865
>"I think I might actually know a guy who can look into that cherry, arm-ripping situation. He's a... Private Investigator. (Contact Question)
Let's buy a couple of welcome mats and place them in front of our windows.

>>6359865
>"I'm fine, the sooner we can get these people out of this truck and somewhere proper, the better."
>"I think I might actually know a guy who can look into that cherry, arm-ripping situation. He's a... Private Investigator. (Contact Question)

>>6360037
At this point Mark has had enough break-ins into his apartment both real and dream that he should absolutely go and do this. Bonus if Batman and any subsequent home invader notices and comments on it. Allison and Hawthorne and anybody else visiting the apartment should comment on it too

>>6360047
>Have your home being broken in on a weekly basis
>Get used to it
>Cape shit
>Time goes on, this is still a trend even when I'm a detective
>Get home, see that the new tv remote was opened and the pieces are still on the coffee table
>"That's Q"
>Other night, get home, the window is slightly open and the air moves the curtains
>"That's Batman"
>Other night, get home, it reeks of cigar, the rug has dried mud and there's one of my wine bottles open
>"Goddamit Constantine, that was for tomorrow's dinner with Allison's parents"

>>6360076
kek

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>>6360076
>fall asleep after a long day chasing down leads
>dream I'm in my apartment, but the couch has a gigantic ass dent in it
>"That's...I don't remember."

>>6360100
It's a shame we chose to forget our meeting with him... it'd be hilarious to convince him that a toilet is Earth's version of a throne.

>>6359865
>>"I think I'll take that offer to wrap my shift, sir. I'm expecting some photos soon that I need to bring to a friend of mine, part of the Anarky case. I can do that without billing the department."
Man, it's annoying how easy it is to be serial killer. We barely have shit on SIM and that's with superpowers.

>>6360105
>>6360100
We had to forget for Mark's own sanity and so Darkseid doesn't gradually twist him up like how Darkseid has been manipulating Vic this whole time

>>6360127
Oh, I know the consequences of doing so. I was there for the vote to have the Lady in Red block him from our psychic brain server.

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>>6360127
I stand by my decision to forget about Darkseid for now, but if he thinks a little but of red rum and thunder will turn us into an unwitting worshipper like Vic, he's got another thing coming. Mama and Papa Delucia didn't raise no fucking weak sister, much less a hopeless murderer.

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>>6359904
>>6359939
>>6359987
>>6360037
>>6360044

"I'm fine." You assert. "The sooner we can get these people out of this truck and somewhere proper, the better."

"Damn straight, we can figure out what to do after we ID these people and get some officers out to the NOK's. They shouldn't find out about this through the news or a press conference."

"Well." You say, an idea forming. Potentially a bad one. "I think I might actually know a guy who can look into that cherry, arm-ripping situation. He's a... Private Investigator."

"He local?"

"No, he's out of state. Bit out west, just visiting for a while."

"Well if he isn't licensed then we can't have him doing anything that could blow back on us. I told you I want this clean."

"I know, sir. But asking around isn't really stepping over any lines is it? He's got a way with people, could probably find out what we need to over a drink."

"Hm." Reiner grunts softly. "And he's good?"

"I've seen him make good evidence out of literal garbage." You say confidently enough to get a single chuckle out of Reiner.

"Alright, but it's the same speech as usual. Probationary period and all..." He trails off and waves a hand before addressing some scene techs. "Everyone, head to motor pool and get the chainlink segments, the one with the covers. I want a wall around this truck in the next ten minutes. Go!"

You pull out your phone and the dial tone follows shortly.

"Detective." Questions says quietly into the phone. "Trouble?"

"Nothing like that, Vic." As you say this you notice Reiner swivel his head towards you with a brow raised. You tuck the phone and say to him. "Different Vic. Small world."

"I hear whispers." Question says. "Detective. Are you in danger? Are you calling me Vic as some sort of code? Maybe-"

"No, Vic. Everything's fine, just talking to my Watch Commander. Look I wanted to know if you were busy?"

"Not particularly." He says, you hear the thunk of his loafers on a table. "Huntress ordered some Moo Goo Gai Pan, but she took it to her room just as I was getting to the good part about where these fortune cookie authors get their informatio-"

"I mean are you busy with WORK." You clarify.

"Oh not at all. Ever since she started insisting I stay at the hotel with her, I've been filling my days with day time television and the mini-bar. Why do you ask?"

"I got something you might be able to help with. Trying to track down a location I saw in a vision."

"Tell me more." He says, you can hear to focus in his voice now.

"General location is the Narrows, it's literally around the corner from what might have been a bar or some other hangout spot? It had a neon sign of two cherries with the stem and was next to a sort of arch... tunnel thing."

"That'd be all I needed if I were a local, have any other strings to pull?"

"Yeah, get this, apparently whatever that place was shut down after someone got their arm ripped off there."

"You're sure this isn't hyperbole?"

"People from the narrows don't shake easily, especially when it comes to something that brings in cash. If it wasn't literal then it was a close second."

You hear the scratching of pen on paper and rustling.

"I'll look into it for you, detective. I'll invite Huntress along too, I'm worried she's going stir crazy."

"What makes you say that?"

"She always listens to my theories, but recently she doesn't seem to be interested in talking unless it's about going out. But without a case to work on, what's the point?"

"Q- Vic, buddy. I think she means 'go out' as in a date. Y'know, dinner and a movie or something? Maybe after you run this down you could take her to get a hot chocolate or something, I'm sure she'd like that."

"Perhaps you're right." He says thoughtfully. "Truth be told, Detective? I never was much good at romance."

"Shocker." You grunt.

"Pardon?"

"I was talking to another officer. But uh, the Cherry spot is near a part of the Narrows everyone avoids, might have some dealer activity?"

"Understood. When I find the cherries do you want me to investigate the area? Maybe we could catch your SIM Killer off-guard."

You glance to Reiner, watching him help start to organize the men moving fences into the lot. Far enough away that maybe you could slip something to Question quietly...

>"No. He has powers like mine, if you're there to hunt for him he might be able to sense that. It's too risky, just find the cherries and let me know the location."
>"Absolutely not, Q. Hard line. I had to convince the Watch Commander to let me even ask you for this, don't get in any fights or break ANY laws. Just find those cherries for me."
>"If you think you have a chance to find him... do it. But make sure Huntress remembers the deal, he goes to court and not a morgue."
>"It would be to the right of the cherries, a few doors down on the right with covered windows. Don't go in half-cocked, he's killed... I don't even know how many and he's meta. Do what you have to do to stay safe..."
>Write-In

>>6360156
>"No. He has powers like mine, if you're there to hunt for him he might be able to sense that. It's too risky, just find the cherries and let me know the location."
Just ask some questions Vic, all we need from you right now.

>>6360162
+1
Mark you retard! Call Q something else besides a shortening of his real fucking name that he shares with our nemesis when our fucking boss is RIGHT HERE

>>6360156
>"No. He has powers like mine, if you're there to hunt for him he might be able to sense that. It's too risky, just find the cherries and let me know the location."

>>6360156
>"No. He has powers like mine, if you're there to hunt for him he might be able to sense that. It's too risky, just find the cherries and let me know the location."

>"Different Vic. Small world."
Kek!

>>6360156
>"No. He has powers like mine, if you're there to hunt for him he might be able to sense that. It's too risky, just find the cherries and let me know the location."

Did this sperg just give Question’s name to the police force?

>>6360181
Nobody heard us say "Q" I don't think, and we definitely didn't say "Question" out loud either. He should be good.
That said...Mark definitely needs to have OPSEC drilled into his head.

>>6360156
>"No. He has powers like mine, if you're there to hunt for him he might be able to sense that. It's too risky, just find the cherries and let me know the location."

>>6360162
>>6360165
>>6360175
>>6360180
>>6360181
>>6360228

"No." You state flatly. "He has powers like mine, if you're there to hun for him he might be able to sense that."

"Is that something your Shivers can do?"

"Sometimes. Either way, it's too risky, just find the cherries and let me know the location."

"Hmm... Fine. But I'm going to check a few other things I've had on my mind since our meeting the other night. Does 'The Flying Graysons' mean anything to you, as a Gothamite?"

"No? I mean I know it was a circus accident that happened not long after I was born. But that's it, they had a tent on amusement mile but uh... I have a suspicion someone else is using the space now."

"Of course." He says calmly, though you can hear his furious scribbling. "There is only one more thing..."

"What?" You groan.

"Was it really necessary to use my name when speaking to your Commander?"

"Yes, he's a sharp guy. Plus, if you bring me something substantial then he's gonna want to cross every t and dot every i to make sure the case can hold water. Which means meeting you." You lower your voice before adding. "The real you."

"I see. I'll be in contact then, detective."

"Than-"

The line disconnects.

"Your PI working on it?" Reiner asks over your shoulder, making you jump slightly.

"Yeah, he's gonna ask around the Narrows and see what he can find out. Soon as he texts me I'll pass anything along."

"Good. You know it's good that you're already 'networking' so to speak."

"Yeah?"

"It's an important skill not a lot of people consider for successful officers. Ones who do more than write reports and answer calls. Networking, it's good to know people who can help watch the blind spots of an institution."

"No man is an island. Hawthorne told me that earlier."

"Really?" Reiner asks, seeming genuinely surprised. "Hmph. He really does shine when he's given a chance to teach. Shame he doesn't want to go any higher up."

"I get where he's coming from. He doesn't want to be away from the street and the people..." He trails off as a line of officers with a series of carts and wrappings fil into the fenced in space.

"Is that your plan?"

"I don't know yet." You shrug. "I love working the beat so far. But I can't say things like, working the sting or helping QRT weren't exciting.”

"Well, enjoy it while it lasts, the adrenaline doesn't come with excitement forever." He extends an arm in front of you. "Step back."

You both move out of the way as one set of techs wearing jumpsuits and face shields climb into the rear of the trucks while another set of officers lie out the tarp flat and weigh down the corners. You watch the lead tech walk the length of the truck carefully, taking small glances beneath each sheet. The entire time her face remains void of any emotion, almost like she's skimming a newspaper behind her round glasses.

File: DocSharpe.jpg (85.2 KB)

85.2 KB JPG

"Commander Reiner." She calls out. "Looks like the cold preserved the bodies for the most part but.. the ones in the back here we won't be able to move them. Putrefaction is too strong. I'm also not seeing any larvae despite the age on some of these bodies."

"Nothing?" Reiner asks, stepping forward to the mouth of the truck.

"Not from a once-over at least. I'd need them on a slab before I can really check the nooks they like to hide in sometimes. It does imply something about how they were being kept. Cold enough to stop complete sloughing but also sheltered enough that it doesn't seem like any insects got in to breed."

"Good information to have." Reiner states. "Flag the ones we can't move and head down to the morgue. I'm sure you're gonna have a busy night."

The lead tech points to a few of the bodies pressed against the furthest wall as he heads back to the front. A second tech, likely her assistant, delicately places tented yellow cards on each of the blankets indicated. The lead tech peels her gloves and face mask off before extending a hand, which Reiner gently takes and helps her step down.

"Appreciate you coming down, Lara" He says as she gracefully steps down. Now that she's closer you can see the deep shadows under her eyes, just like Reiner.

"No problem, I understand why this is so sensitive." She says casually before slipping off the GCPD Guest pass and handing it off to Reiner. "Any idea when I can expect them?"

"Before dusk."

"Perfect. Gives me time to buy a fresh pack of smokes." She says casually unzipping her jumpsuit. "Make sure to avoid any ambulatory movement on the ones up front."

"Why?" You ask, almost on instinct.


Her eyes shift to you as if noticing you for the first time.

"Who is this?" She asks Reiner, still looking you over.

"Officer DeLucia. He's a rookie and very curious."

"Ahh, your up and comer. You should have introduced us." She extends a hand and offers you something that could technically pass for a smile. "Dr. Lara Sharpe. I head the Gotham County Coroner's Office."

"Officer DeLucia. What he said." You reply, pointing to Reiner while reciprocating the handshake.

"As for the why. More people than you’d think assume rigor mortis is permanent or at least that it lasts far longer than the actuality."

"How long does it typically last?"


"Depends on the subject." She answers clinically. "Rigor is caused by the slow loss of adenosine triphosphate, that's the chemical that actually relaxes your muscles, causing them to lock up. But I would say the ballpark is anywhere from thirty-two to eighty-ish hours for the rigor to let go. If you go around bending the muscles onset with rigor you make establishing my timeline a bit harder."

Timeline… Time… Your brain runs a quick calculation and you can't stop yourself.

"That's great." You murmur.

"Pardon?"

"I mean... the body of the woman I used my powers on. She's still in rigor, which means it had to have happened recently or at least within that window you said. That means we might be closer than I thought to-"

"Eh, Mark." Reiner cuts in. "Dr. Sharpe is a friend of the department and of me personally. But she isn't with the GCPD. How's about saving the case talk for now."

"Sorry, sir." You mumble.

"Don't worry about it. Learning the small things is the entire purpose of the FTO program. Now, Doctor?"

"You're right, I should be going. Good luck, to the both of you." Dr. Sharpe offers politely before another officer comes to escort her to the gap in the fence.

====

The next half hour consists of a team of Crime Scene Techs slowly pulling each body from the truck and resting them gently on the tarp splayed behind it. As the last of them before those marked are carried out Reiner unbuttons his cuffs and rolls his sleeves up to the elbow. He pulls a pair of black gloves and passes you a fresh set.

"We're gonna look for ID's first and foremost. Wallets, library cards, dog tags, anything that could confirm a name to put to the face."

"We already ran prints though, right?"

"The ones previously ID'd are going to be set to the side." He says calmly. "Not everyone here is gonna be in the system and even if they were, that takes time. The whole city uses the same database and it's running on outdated computers to keep it safe. Security by obsolescence or something like that."

"Seems a bit dangerous. What if something breaks?"

"Wayne Tech supplies us with the outdated parts. Made to order."

"The GCPD seems to rely on Wayne's companies a lot..."

"I felt the same way at first. Even talked it over with Gordon, he told me that if the Wayne's were corrupt then it's the biggest secret in Gotham and everyone’s keeping it." He nudges you with his elbow gently and nods to the bodies. "Computers aside, we should talk about the work yet to come."

"You mean next of kin?"

He nods solemnly.

"It's not a fun part of the job but it's an important one."

"Is there a dedicated officer for it?"

"No, it's not that specialized. We have it set up as a volunteer program, the department treats it as a full shift meaning you get a full day's pay in addition to those hours going toward your pension. Officers are also encouraged to take the rest of the day off. Though with a mass casualty event like this, we can't do that for everyone. Not with the budget we have now."

"Makes sense." You say quietly, watching another body be settled onto the cold ground.

"You'll have to do it at some point yourself as part of your training." He pauses for a few seconds before continuing. "I wouldn't be opposed if you wanted to get it out of the way today. We could handle one of these ourselves or you could wait for Hawthorne if you'd be more comfortable with your TO joining you. I know it isn't an easy thing to do, but it's part of our duty."

You look out over the row again and your eye fixes on the hand of that woman. Stretched out like a plea for help. You can feel the electric tingle of fear that she felt when he emerged from those shadows looking like... that.

>"We can go together. I've learned from Kimble and Grey as much as Hawthorne. I think I could learn from you too."
>"I can wait for Hawthorne, he doesn't show it much but there's a side of him that can be empathetic and gentle."
>"I'd really rather wait to do it down the line, going from my vision to doing that is... it feels like too much at once. Sorry, sir."
>Write-In


Wrote more than I was intending too for this update actually lol.

Just wanted to say I had an absolutely shit day yesterday and seeing all the chatter and posts between votes helped lift my spirits a bit. Especially the comment from >>6359873, I hope I can do the subject matter justice and thanks for sharing some of your story with the thread. Means a lot to me that this has seemed to connect with some people, like the anon who told me he's used the 'Will you let it be a weight to be lifted or an anchor to hold you down' line in his personal life. That shit is cool to me.

Hoping you guys enjoy this and feel free to let me know how you're feeling about the Doctor and Reiner since, despite being a major part of the department, he hasn't really had too much time with Mark. Such is the life of an administrator I suppose.

Anyways, glad you guys seem to be enjoying this particular section of the quest and I hope to see you enjoying more going forward. See you soon.

>>6360701
>"We can go together. I've learned from Kimble and Grey as much as Hawthorne. I think I could learn from you too."
I wouldn't be opposed to a little coaching for this. Besides that, we're leaning towards going detective, so I wanna pick his brains for a bit and ask about the job. Besides, never hurts to build a rapport with your boss.
I'm glad SIM was keeping busy in the background. Feels like it's been a hot minute since he's come up in the narrative, so I'm glad he made a splash. I'm also appreciative of how this dovetails into the "procedural" part of police procedurals. A lot of cop media will pay lip service to the job not just being foot chases and gun fights, but that's usually just showing stuff like boring administrative work or department politics. As far as I'm aware, it's rare that media depicts it as it really is at its worst: i.e; morbid and disgusting, especially when dealing with dead bodies. Even the shows that focus on gruesome deaths and post-mortem investigations get it wrong by virtue of cleaning it up for general audiences, so kudos for keeping it real.

>>6360701
>"We can go together. I've learned from Kimble and Grey as much as Hawthorne. I think I could learn from you too."

No use delaying…

>>6360701
>>"We can go together. I've learned from Kimble and Grey as much as Hawthorne. I think I could learn from you too."

>>6359010
As a longtime /co/ dweller I'd like to point out that Apokolips is a Marvel villain iirc. Are we getting some kinda meta crossover hints or red herring?

>>6360751
Not a big Jack Kirby fan are ya?

>>6360706
+1

>>6360751
>>6360752
Kek

>>6360700
Kek! I mean, Bruce Wayne isn't corrupt in terms of being selfish or malicious, but he IS technically corrupt in that he is a criminal, so...

>>6360701
>"We can go together. I've learned from Kimble and Grey as much as Hawthorne. I think I could learn from you too."

Sorry to hear it's been a rough one, but thanks for running nevertheless.

>>6360726
>>6360740
>>6360763
>>6360841

"We can go together. I've learned from Kimble and Grey as much as Hawthorne. I think I could learn from you too."

"Glad to hear you're getting a wide perspective. We'll go after we do a quick search of each of em. External only, we're going pockets, shoes, and hands. Anything inside the mouth or other cavities is for Dr. Sharpe to find and catalog."

"How often are things being found in... cavities?"

"Often." Reiner says casually. "But you won't have to worry about that. Anyone suspected of 'storing;' contraband like that is put into a dry cell for twenty-four, forty-eight hours. The toilet has no water and is this foot or so drop onto a grate with very fine holes. Once they've relieved themselves to the point we're sure anything swallowed or stored would be present we just hose it down and see if anything is on the wrong side of the grate."

"You could have just stopped at often..." You grumble.

"Could have." He confirms before stepping forward.

The last body is laid out. The blankets revealing just enough of their features to unsettle you. It feels like a dark cloud is looming despite the few pillars of sunlight that manage to pierce the veil the perpetually coats the city sky. Reiner kneels by the first and looks up to you before nodding at the end of the line.

"You'll start down there, we meet in the middle. Now come here so I can show you the right way to do this."

You loom over his shoulder and watch with a macabre focus as he pulls the blanket back. A young man, maybe your age, a wide gash across his throat. The jagged edges of his skin are yellowed and pale. His neck and chest covered in, now deep brown, blood that crusts and flakes just like the message scrawled on the wall. His pupils contain what looks like a white fog that you can't seem to pull your eyes from.

"DeLucia!" Reiner says firmly. Snapping you out of your own thoughts. "I know it's a lot right now but, focus up."

"Sorry, sir. The shivers make me a bit more... thoughtful after an intense vision. My senses are still fired up."

"Good, then use them to watch me closely."

He pulls the rest of the blanket off and begins by kneeling over the body and firmly patting the front pockets. You hear a faint jingle and he gingerly reaches in with two fingers and withdraws a set of keys.

"Someone get me a tray!" He hollers and before long a plastic box is brought to him. "I want one of these at the feet of each victim, they aren't to be moved until we get an ID to label them. No ID means Jane and Johns, number them."

He flips the keys over in his hands and you scan over them too, pointing from above.

"I don't see any car keys, no FOB either. So many keys though."

"Probably work related. Most of these are your standard match cut, cheap, easy to make en masse." He tosses them into the box before moving his hands to the waistband and gently pressing. "Same as patting a suspect for weapons but you want to be delicate, check firmly but don't put too much pressure or..."

"It'll damage the body?"

"Essentially." He says, sliding his hands around to the small of the back to check. "Be careful lifting as well, spine is stiff."

He pulls back his hands and shuffles down slightly.

"Finally, you take off the shoes." He speaks as he peels off a pair of dirty sneakers, the white bottoms tinged pink. "Turn it upside down. Firm couple of shakes. Then a sweep with the finger."

He lets the shoes clatter into the box as he waves you off and moves to the next. You move to your end and kneel down, pulling back the sheet to look at the woman you just shared a mind with and all you can feel is a hot churning sadness in your stomach. You close your eyes for a moment and let another silent prayer be formed before you reach down and get to work.

=====

You let out a heavy sigh as you ball up the gloves and toss them into a garbage can in the bullpen before heading right for the coffee pot and giving yourself a hot cup to pull warmth back into your body. As you sip it you try not to picture the faces. You try not to think about them. How they all looked like Abigail Reyes. Just for a moment. You manage to pull your thoughts away from that spiral and lose yourself in how bitter and hot the coffee is, the pain and distaste keeping you distracted. You spot Reiner pop into his office after coming in slightly behind you. He emerges a few minutes later with a coat just as you've drained your cup. He approaches you and shakes a small set of keys attached to a keychain displaying a small photo in resin.

"I double checked my email and a few of the IDs came back from fingerprints. Including the woman you used your Shivers on. Makana Kaiwi, her parents live in Otisburg." He recites, stepping past you without breaking stride. Leaving you to catch up after you toss your cup away.

"Borders the narrows..."

"And no missing persons report for her. This is likely going to blindside them." He speaks so casually about this but you can detect the weariness under it, the numbness from repeated exposure.

"I see." Is all you can muster in response.

"Yeah. It's not gonna be an easy visit." He says over his shoulder as you both enter the parking lot. "Which is why I'm lightly suggesting you take a backseat on this and watch me. Be there as my support officer, there'll be plenty of time for you to do one yourself."

You open your mouth to reply only for Reiner to keep going.

"Though, I also know that your visions are very... intimate. So if you feel like you need to be the one to do it, I won't argue. But I will give you some advice."

You reach his plain sedan and he unlocks the doors, hand resting on the driver side as he looks over to you.

>"I felt what she felt... It should be me who breaks the news. You said it yourself, I'd have to do it someday regardless."
>"I'm okay with that. I'm not exactly at a hundred percent, I've never really seen that many... y'know."
>"Would it be okay if it was someone else, actually? I want to take lead on this but after seeing what I saw and feeling it... I don't know if I could do well with her parents specifically."
>Write-In(?)

>>6361067
>>"I'm okay with that. I'm not exactly at a hundred percent, I've never really seen that many... y'know."
Yeah no in this specific instance, Mark's probably not in the greatest mindset to go up and tell her folks about what happened.

>>6361067

>"Would it be okay if it was someone else, actually? I want to take lead on this but after seeing what I saw and feeling it... I don't know if I could do well with her parents specifically."

There's doing the right thing and there's traumatizing ourselves without reason.

>>6361115
+1
Watch and learn

>>6361126
Mark has to gain experience somehow

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145.5 KB JPG

>>6360751
Apocalypse is a Marvel villain. Apokolips is the homeworld of Darkseid and the other sinister New Gods of Jack Kirby's Fourth World setting, who are these days often portrayed as DC's biggest bads.

>>6361067
>"I'm okay with that. I'm not exactly at a hundred percent, I've never really seen that many... y'know."

>>6361067
>"I'm okay with that. I'm not exactly at a hundred percent, I've never really seen that many... y'know."
Wonder if Mark mentioned how he felt Officer Free’s murder in his report…

>>6361115
>>6361263
>>6361274

"I'm okay with that. I'm not exactly at a hundred percent, I've never really seen that many... y'know."

"Well, you did well. Most officer's first Mass Casualty are a lot... messier." He tries to speak diplomatically. "Though... I'm not sure if what we got is better or worse."

He pulls open his door and ducks into the car. You follow suit hopping into the passenger seat. The vehicle is... nothing special. While Kimble's car is filled with loose CD's, protein bar wrappers, and the occasional piece of laundry and Hawthorne basically treats his car as a second child, you find yourself a bit off-put by how sterile it feels. The only personal touch is an air freshener that's shaped like a Christmas tree with a poorly drawn angel figure on it. It's sun bleached in spaces and cracks with age along it's edges. Whatever scent it produced is long gone as now the car simply smells of leather and whatever detergent Reiner uses. He catches you eyeing it as he turns the key and the car starts smooth.

"My son made that for me." He says simply. "This thing's just a rental but I make sure to put it up in whatever I'm driving."

"A rental? You've been here a little over a year now I thought?"

"I have been. Would've been cheaper at this point to just buy a new one but I got a good deal."

"Didn't feel like driving the old one cross country?"

"Lost that car a while before I moved. Accident. Just didn't see the need in replacing it and then I got here and figured I'd just work it out with a rental." He answers you casually but as he turns onto the street he drops into the tone you recognize most often. "Now, you won't be speaking but that doesn't mean you can just sit back, I want you to pay attention, and learn."

"That was the plan, sir."

"I know it, but there's subtleties to this that you may miss so I'm gonna tell you them upfront. The first thing is choice of words. They need to be direct and unambiguous. Nobody is 'lost' or 'passed' or 'gone to a better place'."

"What do we say then? Is it alright to say they've died or should we specify that they were murdered?"

"You only give specifics if they ask and if they do, you present them a card. Now I know you did a notification of sorts already for the gentleman you spoke with at Blackgate?"

"Valentine." You answer. "I know it wasn't exactly official."

"That was a special case, you had rapport with the family and they were in WitSec. But things are different on a normal notification. On our end there's no tears, no hugging, no sharing of scripture or other religious platitudes, and no promises."

"No promises?"

"No. It's important to not go around handing out hope despite how much we have or don't have. Our job is to report the facts and offer the resources of the department. We want to minimize our impact and let them begin healing as soon as possible. Odds are I'll send someone a few days from now to ask them some general questions."

"Why not ask why we're already there?"

"Emotion muddies up memories." He answers simply. "Especially losing a child. The only things they'll remember are their best days right now. They have to get used to the new reality before they can be helpful, in that way."

"You've done this before then, for missing persons?"

"I lived it." He says simply, never taking his eyes off the road.

"Sorry, sir?"

"Losing a child." He lays out, gently tapping the air freshener for a moment. "My son. We lost him a year before I took this job."

Your jaw is locked partially. He speaks as if reciting facts from a history book but you see how his eyes still flick to the air freshener. How he grinds his wedding band against the wheel to make it wiggle on his finger. Your eyes dip to the steering column and you see the small photo more clearly now. A younger and brighter looking Reiner with a redheaded woman with kind eyes and a young boy with messy brown hair and crooked teeth. Reiner notes the silence.

"It's okay, you don't have to be gentle with me. It's almost been ten years since then, I've found my ways to get by."

You only nod as your brain still scrambles to file all this away. Links to so many things appearing, like his odd office hours and how he seems to almost never leave the office. Though the ring is still a question mark, you'd never heard Reiner mention his wife. Then again, he's always been a private person. Maybe this is your chance to learn more about him?

A silence settles between you that he seems unbothered by as he continues driving.

(Feel free to pick multiple options)
>"May I ask how he passed?"
>"Does your wife like living in Gotham?"
>"What made you take the job here? New scenery, or something else?"
>"Ahem... Could I ask you how you think my TO program is shaping out? Am I still on track to be a full officer by December?"
>"So... Missing Persons, what was it like working that office? Seems very detective focused."
>Accept the awkward silence.
>Write-In (Heavily Encouraged)

Chance to get to know Reiner here, totally open to doing more than one question for this and especially curious to see if anyone has a Write-In question for him. Also shorter update is on purpose cause the next one is probably going to be a good amount of words. See you soon!

>>6361432
>"Ahem... Could I ask you how you think my TO program is shaping out? Am I still on track to be a full officer by December?"

>>6361432
>Accept the awkward silence.

Uhhhh. UHHHHHHH.

>>6361432
>"So... Missing Persons, what was it like working that office? Seems very detective focused."
Only the finest of spaghetti shall spill from Mark's pockets.

>>6361432
>"What made you take the job here? New scenery, or something else?"
>"So... Missing Persons, what was it like working that office? Seems very detective focused."
>Write-in: "When... Back at the truck, you mentioned... You said a few officers had already lost their lunch. I take it that doesn't include you. I know how this city tends to pile bodies, even though this was my first time really seeing it face to face... I guess I wanted to ask, do you ever miss being someone that gets sick looking at something like that? If I lose that sensitivity, am I gonna miss it more than I value the control I gain?"
>Write-in: "Have you ever been on a case with an M.O. similar to SIM? Obviously the city has a, uh, colorful history with mass murderers and spree killers, if this is reminding you of any of them... I guess I'm curious how that shook out in the end."

>>6361432
>>"What made you take the job here? New scenery, or something else?"
>>"So... Missing Persons, what was it like working that office? Seems very detective focused."
>>Write-in: "When... Back at the truck, you mentioned... You said a few officers had already lost their lunch. I take it that doesn't include you. I know how this city tends to pile bodies, even though this was my first time really seeing it face to face... I guess I wanted to ask, do you ever miss being someone that gets sick looking at something like that? If I lose that sensitivity, am I gonna miss it more than I value the control I gain?"
>>Write-in: "Have you ever been on a case with an M.O. similar to SIM? Obviously the city has a, uh, colorful history with mass murderers and spree killers, if this is reminding you of any of them... I guess I'm curious how that shook out in the end."

>>6361432
>"What made you take the job here? New scenery, or something else?"
>Write-in: "When... Back at the truck, you mentioned... You said a few officers had already lost their lunch. I take it that doesn't include you. I know how this city tends to pile bodies, even though this was my first time really seeing it face to face... I guess I wanted to ask, do you ever miss being someone that gets sick looking at something like that? If I lose that sensitivity, am I gonna miss it more than I value the control I gain?"
>Write-in: "Have you ever been on a case with an M.O. similar to SIM? Obviously the city has a, uh, colorful history with mass murderers and spree killers, if this is reminding you of any of them... I guess I'm curious how that shook out in the end."
These are the ones I'm most interested in and seem the least intrusive. I stand by my old statement that nobody likes a nosy psychic up in their business. That's probably especially true when you're the psychic's boss.

>>6361432
>Write-in: "When... Back at the truck, you mentioned... You said a few officers had already lost their lunch. I take it that doesn't include you. I know how this city tends to pile bodies, even though this was my first time really seeing it face to face... I guess I wanted to ask, do you ever miss being someone that gets sick looking at something like that? If I lose that sensitivity, am I gonna miss it more than I value the control I gain?"
>Write-in: "Have you ever been on a case with an M.O. similar to SIM? Obviously the city has a, uh, colorful history with mass murderers and spree killers, if this is reminding you of any of them... I guess I'm curious how that shook out in the end."

>>6361477
>>6361993
Fuck I forgot I voted already. Go with the second one please.

>>6361432
>>Accept the awkward silence.
Yep, none of my business

>>6361432
>Accept the awkward silence.

>>6361523
>>6361543
>>6361672
>>6361993

An awkward silence creeps in but you push past it, you know how hard it can be to revisit stuff like that. Better to shift the topic.

"So... Missing Persons, what was it like working that office? Seems very detective focused."

"It was." He answer easily. "I spent most of my time watching CCTV feeds and traffic cameras. I had to stop doing fieldwork after my injury."

"You got injured?"

"Gunshot wound." He says simply, taking a hand off the wheel to pat his leg. "Low caliber weapon, bounced off my femur and tore my leg up from the inside, plenty of muscle damage but it stopped shy of my femoral artery. I can walk fine but anything past a brisk jog and I'm in trouble."

"What was the case?"

"No case. Mugging. Guy pulled a gun on my wife and I as we were leaving dinner and I just reacted. Reached for my gun and by the time I drew it I was already on the ground and he was already running. After that I got promoted to admin and helped run the division."

"So what made you take the job here? New scenery, or something else? Promotion wasn't what you wanted?"

"New scenery, that and an interesting program I heard Gordon was looking into." He answers without hesitation.

"A program?"

"Mhm. At least at first it was, when he brought me aboard I was able to help him gain support."

"Support for what?"

"Allowing meta-humans into the police force." He says giving you a side glance. "It was supposed to be a program to bring a meta individual in from an established team, with the UN endorsement serving as a voucher. But Gordon was open to hearing from me on this because I was an outspoken member of the HUM."

"Wait, you are?" You ask, surprised. "What did you do for HUM?"

"I was an organizer. Head of a local chapter, they all encouraged me to come out here and walk the walk. So I worked with Gordon to convince Dent to allow Meta-Humans into the police force, not through an initiative, but naturally."

"Dent didn't want to go for the PR move? Kinda surprising."

"The mayor is a man of optics, to put it politely. He agreed with us that with a big show comes pressure and being a cop is already hard enough without knowing you got the whole world looking at you waiting for a slip. We wanted to keep it under wraps longer but... Dent approved that article outing you as a Meta-Officer."

"So he changed his mind?"

"He saw new optics." He corrects. "But thankfully Gordon has enough contacts with the Gazette to keep them from bothering you. At least until you're a fully fledged officer."

"Damn... yeah I can't imagine trying to go through my TO program from the start with all that."

"Exactly. We agreed it was better to let you train in as normal an environment is possible. We don't want you to be super-cop, we just want you to be a good cop like any other recruit."

"Speaking of being a good cop. When... Back at the truck you mentioned... you said-"

"Get it out, officer." He gently pushes.

"You said a few other officers lost their lunch. But I'm assuming that doesn't include you. I know this city tends to pile bodies, even though this was my first time seeing that in person I know that I'm probably gonna see more. I might even see worse... I guess I just wanted to ask. Do you ever miss being someone who gets sick seeing something like that?"

"That's a heavy question, DeLucia." He answers gently. "You afraid of the job changing you?"

"Not exactly, I just find myself wondering sometimes if I'll end up missing that sensitivity more than I value the control."

"You’re worried that maybe, if you get too used to it, you'll lose a part of what you think makes you a good officer. Or a good person?" He finishes. You shrug. "I have good news and bad news for you. The good news is that you are going to get used to it. The physical stuff. The smells. The sights. Repeat exposure to anything is gonna wear you down. The bad news? It's still going to affect you. When I go to sleep tonight, I'll probably see those people we found today. Just don't dwell on it, son."

"I'll try not to." You answer uneasily. "It's hard sometimes though. Have you ever been on a case with an M.O. similar to SIM? I know we have our own, uh, colorful history with mass murderers and spree killers, I guess I'm just curious if you had worked something like this, to know how it shook out in the end."

"Suicide." He answers bluntly. "Guy had kidnapped five women, all of them teachers, we managed to save three. When we had the building surrounded he stonewalled us but I guess he figured out there wasn't a way out. So he shot himself."

"Jesus." You say quietly.

"Honestly, I'm just glad he only used that gun on himself." He says before he pulls to the side of the curb and parks.

"Are we already there?"

"Almost, just down the road here. Doesn't feel right to just get in and drive off like any other day when this is the worst day of their lives. This little walk gives them time to compose themselves and step inside. It's a little thing but it matters to me."

"Understood, sir." You state simply, following his lead as he steps out of the car.

"You're a religious man so you should understand what I mean by this. Your role is to act like you're in church. Respectful, attentive, quiet. Your other job is to watch for signs of shock or anything else. Finally, I plan to prompt you. When I step back, you present them with this." Reiner pulls a small baggy from his coat and folds it carefully before handing it to you.

"A charm bracelet?"

"Anklet." He corrects. "We took it off of her and I had them put an express on running it. No DNA that isn't hers so I've deemed it acceptable to return this to them. Give them something to hold onto to until we can release the body back to them."

"Understood, I'll wait for your cue."

"Alright then." Reiner sighs heavily. "Let's get it done."

=====

Knock knock knock.

Reiner's knuckles rap firmly on the door as he stands straight with his hands folded in front of him. You stand behind him with hands folded to hold and conceal the jewelry. You both wait in absolute silence, you realize you're holding your breath but before you can feel bad about it you notice there's no fog coming from Commander Reiner either. Then the door opens.

"Hello?" A heavy-set man asks through a half opened door. Behind him you can see a woman craning her neck.

"Hello, sir. I'm Commander Reiner from the GCPD. Are you Mr. Kaiwi?"

The man sighs and opens the door fully, the woman behind him approaches and places a hand on his arm. You notice the photos along the wall behind them, pictures of themselves and a young girl, you try not to linger on them.

"Did Makana do something?" The woman asks.

"No ma'am." Reiner says. "We are here to deliver bad news."

"Oh Jesus Christ..." The mother whimpers, you can see how tightly she grips the arm of her husband who stares through Reiner with an expression you can only describe as anticipatory dread.

"Perhaps it would be better to go inside, so you could sit?" Reiner offers, but it's ignored entirely.

"Was it an overdose?" The father asks, the very question sending a shudder through his wife.

"No, sir." Reiner says, shifting back into his original stance. "We are still mid-investigation so there isn't much I can share at this time. Your daughter, Makana, was found dead earlier today, less than four hours ago. It is the opinion of the county coroner that her death was caused due to blood loss following a stab wound to her heart."

The wail that hits your ears is guttural and animalistic. Like a rabbit with it's leg snapped in a trap. The mother sinks to her knees, attempting to pull her husband with her, but he remains standing. You aren't sure he could move even if he wanted to. All you see are tense muscles and teary eyes as he nods.

"Did she-" His voice breaks slightly and he clears his throat. "I'm sorry... Was it fast?"

"She didn't suffer." Reiner confirms immediately.

"Do we have to... go in and identify..." Mr. Kaiwi's voice cracks and trails off. His wife let's out a wet choke at the question.

"No, sir. We've confirmed her identity through fingerprints." Another line that hits Mrs. Kaiwi like a bucket of cold water. "Unfortunately due to the nature of the case I can't confirm when your daughter's body will be released to you. But I want you to have my card, this has my personal extension at the station. If you need anything answered from us or just want to check in for a status report, please don't hesitate to contact me."

The husband takes the card, his movement slow and dreamlike, his eyes are unfocused and heavy as he stares down at it.

"We will." He says quietly. "Thank you."

"We do have one other thing. A personal effect we retrieved and felt it important to have returned to you quickly." He steps back and you take your cue, stepping forward and presenting the bag in both hands as if it were a delicate artifact.

"I'm sorry for your loss, sir." You say quietly.

His large hand gingerly lifts the bag from your hand and he lets it unfurl. You see his lips twitch, a heavy swallow, and his chin crumples into wrinkles as tears finally breach his eyes and he gags on the sob that he forces to stay back.

"Maka... baby." He chokes out.

You step back next to Reiner and the both of you wait for a moment as the father finally breaks, kneeling to his wife and joining her in a hug that looks like it could break bones. Reiner looks to you and nods his head back towards the road.

"Mr. and Mrs. Kaiwi, I would again like to extend my condolences and the condolences of the GCPD. Please contact me directly if there is anything you need."

Neither of them reply. They hold the jewelry between them, cradled like an infant, as they both sob openly now. Reiner gives a half bow and turns, nodding to you. You follow him and their wails follow you down the street. Eventually dying out as you both get into the car and shut the doors.

"Fuck." You mumble.

"Yeah." Reiner replies wearily.

Then he starts the car and the both of you spend the entire drive back in silent contemplation. Though you can't stop thinking about those photos...

====

The lights of the station seem dimmer as you sit at your desk. Your mind is occupied with the weight of today, not just the things you saw and heard but something... else. You can't put a finger on it but you feel like something has changed inside you. Somehow. You linger on the memory of that man, one of Mandragora's goons, who was engulfed in flame in your alley dumpster. Burnt like trash. Your first look into the eyes of Gotham's brutality. You realize you never found out if he survived, last hearing he was in critical condition, maybe you shoul-

"Hey there, slick." A graveled voice calls from behind you, interrupting your introspection.

"Sir." You offer with a weak smile. He sees through it immediately.

"Don't put on a show for me." Hawthorne says, leaning on your desk. "Reiner took me aside, explained everything. Hell of a day for you huh?"

"Something like that." You say. "Just trying to process it all."

"I get that, Reiner says you’re clear to take the rest of the day and I do my best processing with a cold beer and some good friends. How's about we head to The Blue Brass, have Jimmy pour us that Pale Ale you owe me?"

"What about Raul?"

"Like you said, we stayed out of the way and picked up two other plates. Matched one to a Gotham U Professor with tenure. Dr. Mick Dolgoff, teaches contemporary literary theory whatever the hell that is. The other belonged to the rental company outside Archie Goodwin Airport. The boys in traffic were glad to have some real police work to do for once, I trust em to keep close tabs." He pushes off your desk and slaps your back. "Now come on, you really do owe me that beer."

>"Sure, I could use a little distraction and I always pay back a debt."
>"Sure, but I think YOU owe me the beer. My lead just so happened to take us to the bar, so in a way, I got us the information."
>"I don't think so, I was gonna take the night to myself. Another time though."
>"I was actually gonna head home and invite Allison over for dinner or something. Just a quiet night."
>Write-In



I got snowed on heavy and lost power for a bit there, but I'm back now! Sorry about the wait, I hope the length of this update makes up for it at least a little. As always, feel free to let me know what you thought of the scene and what you think about Reiner now that you know a touch more about him.

Also, HUM stands for Humanity Unified Movement. Their motto is "Human first. Meta Second." It's an organization that pushes for meta-human acceptance and integration into normal society. As most meta humans disproportionately become some form of vigilante or criminal due to a lack of real options due to their powers. Especially so in the case of people with outwardly presenting powers.

Finally. Secret vote.

>What's bothering Mark right now?

There's a lot of options but I want your guy's input on what part of today was the most challenging for him. He's confronted death before but this is an entirely new way it was presented to him.

>>6363453
>"I don't think so, I was gonna take the night to myself. Another time though."
This shit is clearly weighing on Mark, so I'm not sure he'd be in the mood for the bar or a date. This is starting to look like one of those hour-long shower type of nights.
>The reality of death. What used to be people turning into cadavers at best or chunks of meat and gristle at worst.
Reiner said it best, you get used to it, but it still very much effects you. Beyond who you are as a result of your upbringing or background, the raw juxtaposition between a body and the person it used to be just hits you on an instinctual level. I imagine for Mark who's had to live through the last moments of multiple victims now, the effect on his subconscious is even more pronounced than it usually is for others.

>>6363453
>"I was actually gonna head home and invite Allison over for dinner or something. Just a quiet night."

>>6363453
>"Sure, I could use a little distraction and I always pay back a debt."

>>6363469
+1
Hawthorne will understand. He knows how hard-hitting first time mass casualty straight into first time NOK contact can be, a real double-whammy. He'll get his owed beer, just not tonight

>>6363453
>"I was actually gonna head home and invite Allison over for dinner or something. Just a quiet night."
It's been a little while since our last Allison scene.

As for what's bothering Mark? I think we've seen and experienced death or near-death first hand enough times to grapple with that already. But those parents seemed very normal and loving. Mark is pretty close with hsi parents, and works a dangerous job. I imagine he's thinking about how they'll feel if he dies.

>>6363453
>>"Sure, I could use a little distraction and I always pay back a debt."

Mark has had a night thats for sure

how much the city and his connection to the city focuses on death both of its people and of the "city" even if mark isnt trying to connect with death in any way

>>6363453
>"Sure, I could use a little distraction and I always pay back a debt."

As for Mark: I think if I were in his shoes, I would be feeling really confronted by the magnitude of what my life has become about, and what it is probably going to be about. I wrote in a question about how Reiner felt regarding desensitization to death and gore because Mark is going to see a lot of that. He is going to see it and FEEL it in ways that Reiner, and most cops, will never fully understand.

I would be thinking: How many more mass murder scenes will I visit this year? How many will I visit over my career as a cop in Gotham, specifically one that is utilized for his ability to experience firsthand the events leading up to those deaths? How familiar with death and destruction am I going to become?

I would also be feeling an almost indescribable pain at having handed off that bracelet to the bereaved family, if I were Mark. For a few minutes, he WAS that girl. For a few minutes he was wearing that bracelet. For a few minutes, that poor woman and her husband were Mark's parents. Does that make sense?

All of that would be just a massive, huge mindfuck.

>>6363453
>"I was actually gonna head home and invite Allison over for dinner or something. Just a quiet night."

>>6363453
Parents having to bury their own child

Tie between Allison and Hawthorne with 3 a piece. 2 Votes for a long introspective shower.

Broads:
>>6363481
>>6363514
>>6363560

Brewskis:
>>6363494
>>6363545
>>6363555

I'll give it another hour or so and then flip a coin if nothing changes. First come first serve on the tie-breaker provided you haven't voted yet (unless you're swapping a vote.)

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>6363815

FLIP!

1. Bar with Hawthorne
2. Home with Allison

>>6363514
>>6363560
>>6363481
>>6363827

"I was actually gonna head home and invite Allison over for dinner or something. Just a quiet night."

"Ahhh, I get ya." Hawthorne says, giving you a charged nod.

"What?"

"Don't be coy with me, rook. I was married once. Nothing takes the edge off a long day like a long night." He elbows you teasingly.

"You're gross, man." You reply, chuckling despite yourself.

"It comes with being an old man. One of the perks." He quips back to you, showing a bit of a genuine smile. You know why he's doing this, but you still appreciate it.

"I promise you'll get that beer though." You tell him while rising from your desk. "I always keep my promises."

"Beer tomorrow is as good as beer today." Hawthorne says simply waving a hand. "Have a good night with your girl, son. I'll see ya tomorrow morning."

"Goodnight, sir."

====

Allison picks up on the first ring as you're on the road.

"Hey Mark!" She chirps. "Bit early for a call, you on a break or something?"

"No, I actually got the rest of the day off. Lot of... stuff going on today. I put in a lot of work and the Commander let me off early."

"Stuff? Is everything okay?"

"It's a-"

"An active investigation. Understood." She cuts you off but her tone is tinged with understanding. "I get it. Did you want to order some dinner? If not I could pick something up."

You feel your shoulders relax as that smile sneaks onto your face again.

"You're the best. Yeah, ordering in sounds good. Find something good to watch on TV, like a movie."

"You still watch movies on TV?" She laughs.

"I used to watch tons with my nonno. I've seen more stuff from before I was born."

"An old soul." She muses teasingly. "Want me to pick it up?"

"No, I don't wanna have you go out of your way. I'll order it when you get here. Chinese sound good?"

"Perfect. I'll come straight over once I'm off then, if you don't mind me using your shower."

"Not at all. I'll see you in..." You glance at your dashboard. "An hour-ish."

"See you then, Mark."

Click.

====

Once you get home you spend what time you have left before Allison arrives to rush around your apartment cleaning up various water bottles, ramen cups, and energy bar wrappers that you'd let accumulate from late night dinners and last second breakfasts. You scoop the smattering of dirty laundry and chuck it in a hamper before unceremoniously kicking it into the back of your closet. You put the cherry on top by digging through one of your drawers and pulling out a stocking stuffer from your mom last year. A candle.

You head to the living room and set it right in the center of your coffee table before lighting it. Perfect. You head back to the room and get into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and your old college wrestling t-shirt, pulling it over just as you hear a knock at the door. You open it with a smile already on your face only to have it flicker for a moment before turning into a laugh.

Allison stands before you, her face smeared with black streaks and her hair a mess. Your lips twitch as you try to suppress the laugh.

"I'm sorry it just... it looks like you just had a stick of dynamite blow up in your face."

"Ha. Ha." She says dryly. "Some jackass fell asleep while smoking in the East End and I drew the short straw to go poking around for hot spots in the ash."

"Damn, was everyone alright?" You ask, stepping aside and letting her clomp inside with some heavy duty boots.

"Yeah, nobody got hurt. Just how fucking dumb do you have to be to to fall asleep with a cigarette in your mouth?" She groans. "You mind if I borrow something to wear? I was expecting to be sweaty, not sooty."

"Absolutely, bottom right drawer for shorts and I keep shirts in the middle. You want me to order while you're in the shower? I was gonna order from Chen Restaurant."

"Please. Put me down for Beijing Beef and sweet and sour soup."

"Will do. You know where the bathroom is just uh... don't use the white towels."

She gives you the finger while smiling behind it and disappears into your room. You take a second to light the candle and make the call as you hear your shower kick on. You settle onto the couch and flip through a few channels trying to find something nice.

"...Dan's Discount Auto! If you need a used car for cheap, Dan is your ma-"

"...New Years Eve, experience the ball drop in a way nobody has before! Only in Manhattan, one man will suspend himself in a glass orb held over two-hundred feet in the air only to let it drop at midnight and escape entirely unharmed! 'Impossible' I hear you saying. 'That could only happen through some sort of miracle.' Well, dear viewer, then it's a good thing this feat will be performed by the newest icon in the art of escape: Mister Miracle! Tickets available starting at-"

You flick again and land on something familiar.

"You got things pretty much your own way now, haven't you, Louie?" A low voice says through the speakers.

You settle into the couch and fifteen minutes or so later, Allison reappears with wet hair pulled into a bun and a set of your old clothes hanging off her. She makes her way to the couch and drops next to you, glancing at the screen.

"Black and white? You really ARE an old man."

"It's Scarface, the REAL Scarface from 1930-something." You say waving a hand slightly. "My grandfather said this was the era of movies that was the most real."

"Oh yeah?" She asks, her damp head settling on your shoulder. But you don't mind.

"Yeah. This movie was made in a gap where there was no real code for movies, like what you could and couldn't show, so stuff like this managed to get away with putting in stuff that wouldn't fly just a handful of years later."

"Black and white movies make me think of romances or westerns." She muses quietly.

"You're a western kinda girl then?"

File: AllisonDawes.jpg (52.1 KB)

52.1 KB JPG

"I'm a Clint Eastwood kinda girl." She corrects before going quiet for a few seconds as you continue to watch the film. "Hey, Mark?"

"What's up?" You ask, looking down at her on your shoulder.

Her lips press into yours, warm and soft, you feel yourself melt into the couch as you let the kiss linger. She breaks it after a few seconds and leans closer into you.

"I needed that." You say quietly, your face settling into a sad smile unknowingly.

"Me too." She reciprocates. "You sure you don't wanna talk about your day? It can really help, even if you have to be all vague about it."

"Allison I-" You're interrupted by a knock at the door and you take the opportunity to slide out from under her and stand up as she groans in disappointment.

"I was so comfy." She grumbles.

"I know, but this means you get your soup. Silver linings." You answer.

As you approach the door you find yourself debating in your head. Today WAS hard and it IS weighing on you. Telling her the nitty-gritty would break department rules... but you don't exactly have to tell her everything. Maybe just a picture?

>Despite you two not yet putting a name on it quite yet, in your mind, she's your girlfriend. You trust her to keep it to herself if you divulge some details just to get some of this weight off your shoulders.
>You trust Allison, but rules are rules. Maybe you could just give her the cliff-notes of the day without much detail, you're sure she's seen her fair share in the FD and EMS fields.
>You'll talk about this, sure. But with someone else... You don't want to burden your relationship with the gloom of your work quite yet. (Name who you'd like Mark to chat about this with later)
>Say nothing when you get back, she'll be distracted by the food and the movie and forget. You don’t want to bother anyone with this, you just need to shake it off.
>Write-In