12 Chapter 12

James Gordon stood just outside the Gotham City Police Department, the smell of tobacco snuffed out every other smell near him. His eyes were unfocused as he stared at the gray wall that was littered with tiny black spots from cigarette burns. Relying on his muscle memory he brought his hand to his mouth as he took a drag from his Camel One Hundred cigarette. Although he stood outside, his mind still hadn't left the interview room. Jessica Shann, her cries and pleas, begging him not to tell anyone about what she had done still lingered on his mind. She said he was supposed to be the good guy as she was dragged out of the room by Officer Reagan. Was he a good guy, an evil guy, he didn't know? It's hard to judge the actions of a man in the present, only the future holds those answers. What he did know right now, is that good, evil, none of it was as important as his daughter. He would burn the whole world down to protect her. He took one last drag on his cigarette and flicked it against the wall, adding another tiny black mark against the gray as the cigarette fell onto the ground, joining its brethren in the largest cigarette graveyard in Gotham. "Tch," he grunted, "it just isn't my day" he mumbled as he walked away from the still standing Gotham City Police Department.

Gordon lifted the handle to his car as the door swung open. He shifted his body down and into the driver's seat as he closed the car door. This car was precious to him, it was a sanctuary from everything, it was the only place besides his home that he could take off the imaginary mask he wore during work. His hand fumbled into his pocket as it searched for his phone, he needed to hear their voices, see their faces. The phone rang and rang until it clicked and connected his call, "hey you," he heard his fiance's voice over the phone. Her voice was like the smell of rain, it was a sound that promised his safety right here and right now, even if a storm was on the horizon. "Hey back," he mumbled as his eyes focused on his baby girl wrapped in a pink blanket snuggling against his wife's chest, she was his sunshine. A smile slowly started to grace his face, "tough day? I didn't even hear you when you left this morning," his wife said as she looked over his exhausted face. "Yeah, but I'm better now," he replied still unable to take his eyes off his daughter. "We miss you, when are you coming home?" His fiance asked, "as soon as I can baby," he replied.

Call it a gut feeling, an instinct, a premonition, but something was coming to this city, something that would sweep him away if he didn't start to prepare now. He had to reach out, he knew the person he had to talk to, he was a man that was partially responsible for his father's murder. He may not have pulled the trigger, but he put his father in the bullets line of sight. Some people may call it dishonorable to associate with a man that would do something like that, but if there was one thing he learned in his short time in Gotham, being honorable in this city is the fastest way to find a bullet lodged in your brain. His hand twisted the key lodged in the ignition bring his car to life with a roar that soon became an idle hum. His hands gripped the steering wheel as he drove out of the parking lot and onto the main road. He knew where he was going, everyone in Gotham knew where it was but only a select few have ever made it through the door, although, most people wouldn't call that an accomplishment. Gordon had a single invitation with no expiration to this place, he never thought he would have to use it, but, sometimes to fight evil you needed to utilize evil.

Gordon slowed down on the road as he approached his turn into the long driveway. His car smoothly transitioned from the hard asphalt onto the smooth cement driveway. Gordon looked at the mansion a few hundred yards ahead of him, more police have turned dirty in this place than any other place in the city. He swore to himself, that he wouldn't become like his father, as he slowly approached the guardhouse that stood right outside the mansions giant metal gate.

The driver's side window lowered as the guard left his post inside and carefully approached Gordon's window. "How can I help you," the guard asked as his hand rested inside his suit jacket on the handle to his holstered weapon. "I'm here to see Carmine Falcone," James Gordon announced as the guard peered through the car window looking for anything out of the ordinary. "And you are?" The guard asked as he finished his search and brought his eyes from the backseat to match Gordon's. "James Gordon, my father was friends with Carmine," Gordon answered as he looked into the eyes of the guard. "I'll see if he has time to see you," the guard responded as he walked backwards into the guardhouse his eyes never leaving Gordon's. Gordon sat in the car as he waited for the guard to return, his thumbs nervously tapping against the steering wheel to pass the time. The gate in front of him creaked as it slowly began to open as the guard in a much more relaxed fashion walked out of the guardhouse. "There should be a few places to park near the front door, you are to leave all electronics and weapons inside the car before you exit the vehicle," the guard stated with a rehearsed sound with a mixture of seriousness. "Thanks," Gordon muttered as he shifted his car into drive and slowly began rolling up his driver's side window.

Gordon put his car into park and turned off his engine. He unbuckled his seat belt and reached across his waist to unclasp his holstered weapon. He opened his glove compartment gently laying his weapon inside, slowly closing the glove compartment and locking it up. He fetched his phone out of his pocket tossing it onto the passenger side seat and began to unclip his smartwatch from his left hand. Gordon shut his eyes as he centered himself before he opened his car door and stepped out onto the cement paved driveway.

Gordon stood outside the mansion's door about to bring his knuckles up to the door as it gently opened. Another well dressed guard stood in the middle of the doorway, "welcome Mr. Gordon if you could please come in and stand here." The guard ordered politely as he pointed to a spot a few feet inside the entrance hall. As Gordon took his first step towards the doorway the guard slid to the side to allow him to pass. "Don't take this personally sir, but I'm going to have to pat you down," the guard communicated as he approached where Gordon was standing. Gordon spread his legs apart and extended his arms away from his side as the guard patted his legs, waist, chest, and arms. "Thanks Mr. Gordon, let me bring you to Mr. Falcone," the guard said as he began to lead him down the hallway.

"Jimmy," the voice boomed with cheer as Mr. Falcone walked up to meet his old friend's son. "It's been such a long time, I heard you recently came back to Gotham but I just couldn't believe it." Mr. Falcone smiled as he extended his arms and hugged Gordon. "Carmine, it's been a while," Gordon responded as he released himself from the hug and began to look around. "Anyone that has argued crime doesn't pay has never been inside your house," Gordon quipped as Carmine bellowed out a laugh. "I'm a legitimate business owner, everyone knows that," Carmine lied with a smile on his face. "I'm so glad your back, I don't know how Gotham survived without a Gordon to keep watch over the city." Carmine voiced as he gestured for James to follow him, "come let us take a walk outside, I could use the fresh air," Carmine said as he walked away with James beside him.

The fresh air blew the scent of a freshly mowed lawn against Gordon's face as he walked side by side with the biggest crime boss in the city. "I caught a case this morning, a woman was murdered downtown last night," Gordon remarked as they both kept the same walking pace as the last few minutes. "Ah, I heard about that this morning on the news," Carmine remarked, as he slowed down towards a large marble bench surrounded by dark green hedges. "This world sure is changing, back in mine and your father's day, bad guys killed bad guys, but now murder is bleeding into all parts of Gotham. A young beautiful woman snuffed out, you think the murder could have found an overweight balding middle aged man instead. This city needs all the beauty we can get." Carmine wistfully stated as he reminisced about the old days. "Yeah, he left his name at the scene, I was wondering if you knew him?" Gordon asked, "ah, so you need a favor" Falcone acknowledged as Gordon stilled and tensed at the word favor.