INTERLUDE-1: JOHN & KARLA

AN: Ok, 2 more interlude chs to wrap up the scenario and shed some light on some new and old characters. 

Power Stones Target: 150 >Today. 1000> End of Week.

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John Stoner was a GCPD traffic officer in his mid-30s, with a rugged appearance that seemed to blend effortlessly with the gritty streets of Gotham. He had a lean build, a rugged jawline covered in light stubble, and eyes that held a weary but observant glint. His dark hair was cut short, a practical choice for his line of work, and his features bore the marks of someone who had seen more than their fair share of the city's turmoil.

His colleague, Karla Fence, was a novice in her late 30s whose upbeat personality stood in stark contrast to John's more weathered demeanor. With her short, cropped hair that she frequently ran her fingers through during moments of reflection, she exuded a sharpness. There was a certain harshness in her eyes, a sign of someone who knows the city's dark reality.

John leaned against the hood of their patrol car, the city's skyline serving as the backdrop to their conversation. He exhaled a heavy breath, his eyes scanning the streets they patrolled, "It's been quiet for far too long, Karla. Ten years of peace, and suddenly, the gangs are stirring up trouble again. Something big's about to go down. I can just feel it."

Karla nodded, her gaze fixed on a group of youths loitering on the corner, their body language tense, "The last thing we need is a gang war brewing on these streets. It's like they're itching for a fight, and it's not just one gang—it's all of 'em, stirring trouble in their own territories."

John's jaw tightened, a grim expression on his face, "It's like they're waiting for a spark to set the whole damn city on fire."

"Word is," She added, her voice low, "that Black Mask's been making moves again. Rumors say he's been planning something big, pulling strings from the shadows."

"Black Mask," He muttered, a flicker of concern crossing his features. "That guy's trouble. If he's back in the game, it's bad news for everyone. Last time he was active, the city was knee-deep in chaos."

Her gaze turned steely. "We've gotta stay ahead of this. I heard the newly appointed ops have been monitoring some unusual activities, shipments moving in odd patterns, and reports of new recruits joining the old gangs. Feels like a storm's brewing."

John straightened up, a sense of duty etched in his features, "We need to keep our eyes open, Karla. This city's always on the edge. One wrong move, and it could all come crashing down."

They exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them.

John's phone buzzed, the familiar ringtone indicating his daughter's call. He grabbed it, expecting to hear her voice on the other end. But as he pressed it to his ear, a chilling, unfamiliar voice seeped through the receiver, sending a shiver down his spine.

"Officer Stoner, you've got thirty minutes. Head to Fumes' Leathery in the industrial district. Alone. Don't make any detours, or your daughter pays the price."

The blood drained from John's face. His hand tightened around the phone as a cold sweat formed on his brow. This wasn't some random call; this was a threat, a warning that pierced through the calm of the moment.

"Who are you? What do you want?" His voice was strained, his heart hammering against his chest.

"Questions later. Move now. Don't make me repeat myself. Thirty minutes."

The line went dead before he could respond. He stared at the phone, his mind racing. The industrial district was a hotbed of danger, especially at this hour. But the mention of his daughter made his decision for him.

"What's wrong?" Karla asked, noticing his expression.

John's voice trembled slightly as he relayed the disturbing call to her, his concern for his daughter evident in every word, "They've got my daughter and they want me to go to Fumes' Leathery in the industrial district in thirty minutes. Alone."

Karla's eyes widened in alarm, understanding the gravity of the situation, "We need backup, John. We can't just walk into something like this alone."

He shook his head, his mind already made up, "They were clear. No detours, no one else. Just me."

"But your daughter..." Her voice trailed off, her concern mirroring John's.

He clenched his jaw, the weight of the situation heavy on his shoulders, "I have to go. I can't risk her safety."

The urgency in his voice spurred her into action, "I'll come with you, John. We'll find a way to handle this together."

"I promised Lily's mother that I would always keep her safe," He pulled out his gun and pointed it at his partner, "Please..." His eyes softened for a moment, "I can't take any chances."

Karla looked at him, her expression a mix of shock and uncertainty as she nodded her head silently, understanding that the situation was more dire than he had let on, "Okay...but promise me you'll be careful."

John gave her a curt nod, "Thank you. Just don't do anything stupid until I get my daughter back." Without another word, he walked towards his squad car, the stakes feeling heavier with each step.

As he settled behind the wheel, he took a deep breath and started the engine. After a final glance back at Karla through the rearview mirror, he put the car into drive, the headlights illuminating the streets as he made his way to the industrial district.

"Hold on, Lily. Daddy's coming to save you."

Earlier, Karla noticed a bike near the pump, that belonged to some small-timer thug, just around the blocks. She dashed for it, 'Not gonna let you walk into a trap, John.' Upon reaching it, she saw a mohawk punk sitting atop it, smoking weed leisurely.

She raised her service pistol at him, "Get off the bike, hands where I can see them."

The punk froze, dropping his joint in shock, "I have a prescription for that shit!"

"Shut up and get off the bike," She ordered, keeping her pistol trained on the punk. "Keep the keys in."

"Alright, alright! Take it easy, lady," The punk slowly got off the bike, keeping his hands raised. "Just don't shoot, okay? I'm only eighteen, man. I haven't even lost my v card yet!"

She ignored his pleas as she holstered her weapon and climbed onto the bike, revving the engine to life. She glanced at the punk over her shoulder, "Tell your boss that Officer Fence sends her regards." Without waiting for a response, she sped off into the night, hoping to catch up to John before he reached the industrial district.

'Don't do anything stupid, huh?' Karla thought, pushing the bike to its limits. 'Sorry, John. But I can't just sit by while you walk into a potential trap. I may not be able to stop you, but maybe I can help level the playing field a bit.'

With the wind whipping past her, Karla raced through the streets of Gotham, determined to help her partner any way she could.

Back at the gas station, the punk dusted himself off before picking up his joint from the ground.

"Fuck! Dad's gonna kill me if he finds out I lost the bike again." He grumbled as he lit the joint once more, taking a long drag.

[Fumes' Leathery] [3pm]

John parked his squad car in front of Fumes' Leathery, the tension in his body palpable. He knew he was walking into a potentially dangerous situation, but he couldn't bring himself to care. All he cared about was his daughter's safety, and if going alone meant getting her back unharmed, then so be it.

Taking a deep breath, he exited the vehicle, his eyes darting around the area as he cautiously approached the leathery. The workers inside were busy processing hides, paying him little attention as he scanned the premises for any signs of danger.

His phone vibrated, signaling a text message. Pulling it out, he saw a picture of Lily tied up and gagged, fear written all over her features. His blood boiled at the sight, and he clenched his fist tightly, his resolve solidifying. Then a call came in, showing an unknown number.

"Make any sudden move, and your daughter's skin will become a nice pair of boots," A gruff voice warned, confirming John's worst fears.

"Let her go," His tone was firm, but there was a hint of desperation in it. "What do you need?"

"Now you are asking the right question," The voice replied, sounding pleased. "You see that blue Aston on your right? Get in it."

John's gaze landed on the luxury sports car parked nearby, its sleek design standing out among the surrounding vehicles. As he approached it, he noticed that the doors were unlocked, almost invitingly. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and slid into the driver's seat, the plush leather interior providing a stark contrast to the rough surroundings.

"Drive to the docks, to warehouse #12," The voice instructed, its tone commanding.

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Next Chapter: Interlude-2: Two sides