Gotham City Hall

Police Press Conference

"As I'm sure most of you are aware, the department has been able to crack down harder on the known crime syndicates in the past few months than we have been in years," Commissioner Gordon spoke into the microphone. He hated the public speaking almost as much as the press that often twisted his words for a headline, but it'd all sadly become a part of his job. He often yearned for the old days when he was out on the streets, working to keep it clean rather than pushing paper and leaving himself open to the media. Sure, life of an active duty policeman was dangerous, especially in Gotham, but somehow it seemed safer to him than the hordes of instigators just waiting to make his words into something they weren't. "So much so, that Blackgate is being filled rapidly and on the brink of overpopulation. The guard to prisoner ratio has grown significantly smaller between injuries while subduing inmates, as well as the sudden swell of population. As I'm sure many of you have heard in the last few days, there have been talks on what this means for the prison as well as the city as a whole."

"Commissioner, we just received word that there may be an attempt on your life," a voice crackled over his earpiece, adrenaline immediately filling his body. "The tip comes from Harley Quinn, claiming El Spectro put out the order. May we advise cutting the conference short, sir?" Not wanting to alert the crowd of anything suspicious, he gave a curt shake of his head, knowing that his eyes in the sky would see it.

"Dispatch more Officers to cover all side streets and lines of sight for a three block radius," another ordered. "Pickup anyone even remotely suspicious. No one knows what this guy looks like and we can't afford to keep our guard down."

Gordon's eyes roamed over the crowd before him, skimming over the familiar faces of reporters and photographers before him. There were some he hadn't seen before which only unsettled him slightly; there were bound to be new faces at these things, but given who was after him he couldn't help but be suspicious.

El Spectro was infamous for his ability to hide in plain sight and get a job done right before everyone's noses without anyone seeing it coming. GCPD had arrested several men over the course of fifteen years, believing they'd found their man, only to learn that they were nothing more than a fall guy. Sometimes they found that out during interrogations, but most of the time they learned it once their suspect showed up dead in a cell or prison courtyard.

El Spectro was Gotham's biggest drug runner, pushing into assassin-for-hire territory. As far as the Department could ever tell, the man set up the hits but never executed them himself. After several reports of witnesses claiming to see a car cruise away from the scene of several murders, Commissioner Gordon had a theory that the phantom stayed close to make sure the job was done.

If he was right, that meant that he could be closer than Jim Gordon thought.

The Commissioner cleared his throat before continuing to speak. "At the moment, we do not have anything definitive to report, but in order to keep the stories from running too wild, I'll share some of the possibilities with you all. There are humanitarian laws that prevent overcapacity in prisons and therefore must be followed. Because of this, this means that one of two things can be possible; transferring of inmates to other high security facilities in neighboring cities in order to regain control. Or, the release of inmates believed to be reformed and of no real danger to anyone in the city." As soon as he said the words, the crowd before him burst into conversation; some speaking directly at him while others spoke to their peers beside them. He sighed, having expected as much. He spoke louder into the microphone. "We understand the concern that this brings to you all and is why we are very carefully weighing the options before making a decision. But as I said before, there are laws that must be followed in regards to the inmates' human rights. Not to mention, the safety of the guards who keep watch over them."

"Commissioner! Commissioner, question!" one reporter yelled above the others, drawing his attention.

Jim nodded at him in acknowledgment, watching the man carefully as he noticed he was a new face."Yes?"

"Why not just go with the idea of transferring inmates to other prisons? If not, wouldn't it be better if the city just built another prison or expanded on Blackgate as it stands now?" the reporter asked.

"The answer to both such questions is very simple; they require time and money that the city cannot afford," Jim answered. "There needs to be a certain amount of funding allocated to these possibilities, to all of them really, and in order to do that it needs to be determined how much each will cost as well as where the money will come from. No matter the decision, there will be costs that affect the city as a whole and that will not be taken lightly."

"Commissioner Gordon, have there been any—" the words of another male reporter cut off abruptly as a peer nearby let out a sharp scream.

The Commissioner turned his head in the direction of the chaos, Officers running through the now scattering crowd to the source. His blue eyes captured the scene in silence as he faintly paid mind to the overlapping voices all around him; a sharp, diamond shaped throwing knife driven through the middle of the reporter's neck so far that it was visible through and through. A small crowd of Officers surveyed the body, looking around as if the killer would materialize before them. "Don't just stand there, dammit!" he yelled at them, voice booming over the speakers. "Search! They can't have gotten that far!"

"Sir, we should really get you inside somewhere," a beat cop, Officer Wentz said beside him. He turned to face them, finding another young Officer, Dick Grayson, beside her. "You're still a target."

"Which is exactly why I'm staying here, to draw them out," the Commissioner replied firmly. Dick Grayson's eyes narrowed at something in the distance as Officer Wentz tried to insist with their commander. "But sir—"

"Look out!" Officer Grayson cried out, shoving both his comrade and the Commissioner to the ground. Officer Wentz screamed as the three crashed to the ground. "Shit, she's hit!" A knife identical to the one lodged in the reporter's throat protruded from the woman's shoulder as she winced and gritted her teeth behind the podium. Officer Grayson was torn between helping her and going after the source of the attack; he'd seen the slightest glint from light reflecting off the blade in a third floor window of a nearby office building. He edged his head just slightly out from behind their cover, looking back at the window but seeing no sign of anyone there.

"If you have a line on them, then go," the Commissioner told him, recognizing the look on the young man's face. "Call for backup along the way."

"Yes, sir," Officer Grayson said with a firm nod, positioning himself in a crouch before running across the street as fast as possible, dodging behind any cover available.

"Sir, am I going to die?" Officer Wentz asked, feeling the sharp pain of the knife cutting through muscle with each stuttered breath. "I just got engaged and I don't think my girlfriend would appreciate that very much." She let out a nervous laugh, wincing in pain once more as Jim Gordon fixed her with a stern expression.

His words were a reassuring contrast. "Fiancé," he corrected. "In my experience, you need to remember to say that when you talk about them. Otherwise, they'll make this knife in your back seem like a papercut."

"Papercuts hurt like a bitch, sir," she said in return, earning a small tilt of his lips in return.

"As I imagine that wound does."

Several Officers dressed in riot gear, shields in hand, suddenly joined the pair, circling them and creating a fortress from any other attacks. The point man assessed them, waiting for further orders as he said, "We ran into Grayson, said you two needed evac."

"Officer Wentz, more than myself," Jim said. "Officer Grayson needed backup as well. He was heading to a possible location for the suspect. Did you spare men to assist him?"

"No sir, he never mentioned it," the other man said with eyebrows drawn. "He only told us that you needed help."

Commissioner Gordon sighed in irritation, both at the man before him and the young man deciding to play hero. "We get Wentz inside safely and then I want at least two of your men sent to that building," he said, gesturing to the building he'd seen Dick run into. "They're clear to check every inch of that place, looking for the suspect and for Grayson. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir."

Jim Gordon shook his head in exasperation, hoping he wouldn't have to be making many house calls at the end of the day. Least of all to Bruce Wayne who'd lost enough at a young age without having to add his adoptive ward to the list.

Just a short chapter to get the story going, establishing a bit of a timeline (if you read BLACK DAHLIA). I've decided to make this part of the same universe I guess, but in the past before all the events of BD. Technically, you won't have to have read it to read this but there will be a familiar face from there making an occasional appearance here so...yeah 😅 Anyways, I hope to update soon and that you guys will enjoy this story as it goes.

As usual thanks for reading and please feel free to let me know what you think in the comments 😎