When Bruce requested all those files pertaining to the Arkham plan, the young boy had not expected the large amount of paperwork and scraps his parents had hidden away. Alfred wasn't joking when he said there were piles and piles. They must've had an entire room inside the manor that Bruce had no idea about that contained all those documents. As the mission to find a connection between his parent's murders and the plan consumed his mind, Bruce spent most of his time in the library dedicated entirely to searching the files and pinning them up on corkboards.

"Fancy a stroll? It's a lovely day. Stretch the legs, breath of fresh air," Alfred suggested, eyeing Bruce as he stood on top of a wooden stool as he pinned his next piece. "I'm busy," Bruce declined. "I've got a question for you, Master Bruce. What if all this was a complete and utter bloody waste of time? What if you never discover who killed your mum and dad? Hmm? What if you never get to wreak revenge?" the butler questioned.

For the first time in the past 72 hours, Bruce finally looked away from his work and to his guardian. Usually, in the unfortunate circumstance someone loses their parents due to murder, the family would either want justice or revenge. But the latter was not something Bruce had his mind on at all. "I don't want revenge. I want to understand how it all works. How Gotham works," He explained. "Well, you'd have more chance digging to China with a teaspoon," Alfred commented.

But Bruce remained determined. There was an end to an investigation one way or another, and he would not rest until he found the answers. "Take the Arkham Project, for instance. How did the Falcone and Maroni crime families get such big shares in the deal? I know city hall is corrupt, but... why didn't Wayne Enterprises do something?" Bruce questioned. "Can you pass me that blue folder over there?" Alfred nodded, grabbing the file resting on the desk, and briefly flipped through the papers.

Well, I suppose as hobbies go, this is a damn sight better than grilling yourself like a bloody pork chop. Still, not particularly healthy, is it?" Alfred inquired, hoping to bring Bruce back to reality. But Bruce was so focused on his current task that he barely paid attention to Alfred's words. "Thank you," he said as Alfred handed him the folder. "Are you listening to me?" "Yeah, for sure. I'll take a walk later. Thank you, Alfred," Bruce returned to his work, leaving Alfred no other choice but to leave the room. He may not have gotten through to Bruce this time, but he continued to hold out hope.

~~~~~~~~

"Hey, it might look like the heel of a hobo's shoe. But still the best burgers in Midtown, huh, Ephraim?" Bullock chuckled as he and Jim stood outside of Harvey's favorite burger bar. "If you say so, but I will add the suburbs had some of the best chocolate malts," Jim spoke, having his doubts. "Then you, my friend, are in for a real surprise!" Harvey nudged him before turning back to the owner. "All right, I want two cheeseburgers. Uh, hold the sauce, extra pickles, two malted shakes," Harvey ordered, fishing out his wallet.

"No pickles on mine, please," Jim requested. "Oh, you got to trust me on this one, Jim!" Harvey shook his head. "Is that right? All right. Pickles. Bring 'em," Gordon caved in. But as the two detectives were busy getting their lunch, neither noticed a certain teenage thief was about to pickpocket a wealthy man just right behind them across the street. "All right, now, you wanna look good in a swimsuit like me come summertime, you're gonna want a lot of this and a lot of this, huh?" Bullock gestured to his food as they sat at the edge of the concrete sidewalk.

Jim laughed before catching something out of the corner of his eye, instantly recognizing it as Selina and the crime she was in the middle of committing. "You!" He shouted, getting both the attention of Selina and the man. The man looked down to see his wallet in Selina's gloved hands and attempted to get it back, but Selina fought back and pinned his arm behind his back before taking off while Jim dodged passing taxis and cars to get to her. But the second he reached the other end of the street, it was like Selina had just vanished into thin air.

"Jim! Come on, it's lunchtime! Relax!" Harvey called out to him. Just then, he heard the sounds of an alarm ringing in the distance and started running towards it. Harvey continued to protest, telling him they were on break. But despite the slight smile of acknowledgment Jim gave, he continued running towards the sound. "Oh, brother," Harvey looked exasperated as he dropped his chocolate shake and chased his partner. They found themselves at the nearby convenience store, and as they stepped inside, they discovered the place was ransacked, and gallons and gallons of empty milk cartons were strewn about, along with shelves that had been knocked over and smashed to bits.

"Jim, you can't just pop up and jump every time you hear a bell!" Harvey sighed as Jim shut off the alarm and pulled out his gun. "GCPD! Anybody here?" Jim called out. "Over... Over here!" A panicked voice spoke from behind another knocked-down shelf. Harvey walked over to where the sound was coming from and lifted the shelf, letting the trapped cashier out of his hiding spot. "Thank God you're here!" The man breathed with relief. "Anybody dead?" Harvey questioned. "Some guy, he was stealing milk. I try to stop him, and he hauls away my ATM!" Both the detectives looked behind them, and sure enough, the ATM had been pulled out of the wall.

"All right, nobody dead. We're homicide, and it's lunch. So have a good day, sir. Call 911, and someone will take good care of you," Harvey took a bite out of his burger before walking towards the door. But Jim grabbed his arm, stopping him. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. One guy did this? Stole your ATM over milk?" Jim inquired, confused as to how one single man could haul away an ATM and cause this much damage. "Little skinny-ass dude, guitar case. Drinking milk like there's no more cows. 'Don't vex me, mortal,' he says," The cashier shakily nodded. "Listen, if I had a dollar for every hobo skeez that walks through that door, thinking they're God, I wouldn't be here. But this son of a bitch, he wasn't fooling around!"

Jim asked him if he managed to get a description of the vehicle or the license plate number, but the cashier added another detail that left both Harvey and Jim even more confused. "He didn't have a vehicle. He pulled it out of here with his bare hands!" The cashier insisted. "May we check the camera footage?" Harvey asked, just wanting to get out and finish his lunch before returning to his shift. The cashier led them behind the counter, and the detectives watched as he pulled up the footage. And to their astonishment, what the man said was true. The ATM had been ripped out, and the suspect disappeared with a shit-eating grin.

~~~~~~~~

Back at the GCPD, Jim and Harvey played the security camera footage for Captain Essen, and the longer she stared at the footage, she was just as confused as Jim and Harvey were. But after searching through the suspect's guitar case, they found something that might've painted a clearer picture. "How is that even possible? Who is this guy?!" Essen's jaw dropped. "No positive I.D. as of yet, he's a street guy. We think that this thing..." Harvey gestured to the evidence bag Jim was holding. "...has something to do with his excessive joi de vivre," Harvey answered.

"Yeah, we found it in the suspect's guitar case. It's some kind of drug," Jim handed her the bag that contained a tiny and empty vial. "A drug did that? Wow..." Essen shook her head in disbelief. "Nygma found traces of the drug. He'll have a read on what the hell this thing is by tomorrow morning. Meantime, we'll try and I.D. the strong man," Gordon said. When Jim and Harvey went back into the streets of Midtown, they asked anyone walking the streets if they had seen the man, showing them the clearest picture they had.

But everyone they asked had either never seen him before or barely knew any details to pinpoint his identity. As Harvey met up with Jim again, Jim held out the photo to another young woman, asking the same question he had been asking for what felt like years. "Any chance you've seen this guy?" He asked. "Yeah, I know him. That's uh, Benny. He's a... guitar player, strung out like string," The woman chuckled. "What'd he do?" "Uh, nothing bad. He came into an inheritance no one knew about," Jim lied. "Million dollars. Farm, horses, real nice," Harvey added. "You know where we can find him?"

"Twenty dollars," The woman bargained, holding out a hand. Jim reached into his coat and pulled a ten, and despite him being ten dollars short, she revealed where Benny could be hiding. And as they followed the woman's directions, they found themselves underneath a dark and musty bridge, and as they continued their journey into it. The trail of empty milk cartons and dairy products led to where the man was hiding, curled up next to the ATM with a crumpled-up piece in his hand. His body trembled, and he groaned in pain as he muttered to himself, begging for the pain to stop.

"Sir? GCPD! Let me see those hands!" Jim spoke, pulling out his gun as did Harvey. "Oh... Help me. I need... more," Benny pleaded. "More what? What'd you take?" Jim inquired. "It felt so good. And now I don't feel so good. Something's wrong, I need more! Please, you have to find him!" Benny stumbled, trying to step towards the detectives. Through his pain, he explained the man had a mangled ear and wore a suit. Jim nodded for him to keep speaking as a distraction while Harvey tried to place the man in handcuffs.

But Benny pushed Harvey away, and the pain in his voice was replaced with anger and insistence. "Sir, we need you to calm down and put your hands behind your back!" Jim stepped over with Harvey, and once again, the man pushed them both with enough strength to make them slide across the wet concrete. And just like he did in the security footage, the man grabbed the ATM with his bare hands, holding it above his head and ready to throw it. "I said NO!" Benny's skin turned gray and pale white as his voice got deeper, and Jim and Harvey told him to drop it.

But before Benny could even consider when to throw his heavy weapon, every bone in his face cracked and disfigured him. Soon, it carried on to his legs, and he felt the machine's weight underneath his trembling figure, Benny lost his grip as more of his bones cracked, and the ATM came crashing down, flattening what was left of him into a pancake. Exchanging glances that silently asked, "What the hell?" the two detectives pocketed their guns, both in shock and silence about the disturbing death they witnessed. Jim thought he saw it all, but this moment sent a clear message. Just because you may think something is impossible, it doesn't mean it is.

"God help us if that drug gets out,"

Little did they know that above them, the man with the mangled ear was distributing the same tiny vials to anyone he saw roaming the streets. And by the next morning, Gotham would be in chaos once again.

~~~~~~~~

"Ms. Kean, Ms. Gordon, a pleasure to finally meet you in person," The headmaster smiled, offering his hand to the two women to shake. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you too, Mr. Koch," Barbara smiled as his office door shut right behind him. During the drive to Anders Preparatory Academy, Holly's paranoia of being sniffed out by the children who came from old-money families would hound on her was intense. But when her mother told her they were going to tour the school first, Holly felt a bit more at ease. At least she'd be able to find her way around and not be stranded.

"I see you've just moved here from the suburbs, is that correct? It says in your profile that you took a lot of art electives?" Mr. Koch questioned Holly. "Yes, I find Art to be a fascinating subject, especially when it comes to studying about O'Keefe, Da Vinci, and Botticelli," Holly nodded. "Well, our art program will not disappoint you then. I've known Mrs. Scherer for the past nine years, and many of her students have become amazing artists. Some have even had their work hung in the Gotham Art Museum,"

Barbara grinned at Holly, placing a hand on her shoulder as she looked back to Mr. Koch. "I just opened my art studio about a month ago. I guess art runs in the family!" she spoke with glee and joy. While Holly did her best to assess these uncharted waters she was venting into, she could tell between them that her mother was getting more of a kick out of this school than Holly was.

"Well then, here's your schedule, Ms. Gordon. Stay right here, and I'll grab your student guide," Mr. Koch walked out of the room, and as Holly waited, her mother squeezed her hand with excitement. "I used to go to this school when I was your age. A lot has changed now, but..." Barbara breathed in the scent of old books. "...It brings back many memories, and you will make lots of friends here," The office door clicked and opened, revealing Mr. Koch and a boy around Holly's age, if not a bit older. "Holly, this is your student guide, Thomas Elliot. Thomas, this is Holly Gordon," Mr. Koch introduced the children.

"Wait, your father's that cop that found the Wayne killer? Interesting," Tommy asked her. Holly gave a slight nod as they both stepped into the hallway, hearing Barbara wish her daughter a great first day. "First off there's the office. Don't be fooled by Mr. Koch, he can be strict as hell," the boy spoke before they walked down the long marble and light gray hallway. They walked past the rows of large lockers, which looked nothing like the ones Holly had in her old school. Ander's lockers had more style and were more upper-class. "So, do you have any interests regarding electives?" Holly questioned, breaking the silence.

But Tommy didn't give her an answer and just continued looking straight ahead. "Thomas?" Holly tapped his shoulder. This caught his attention, but it also changed his attitude. "Listen, you may be new to this school, but just so you know. We're not friends, so don't try to act like we are," He hissed. "I-I was just asking a question," Holly stammered. "You see, Gordon. Our classes of wealth just can't mix. I come from centuries of wealth, whereas you..." He scanned her for even the slightest detail that would indicate a different class. But granted everyone at the school wore uniforms, there was not a lot to judge her on.

"Whatever, the point is you stay in your lane, and we won't have problems," Tommy smirked. Holly took a deep breath and stepped closer to him, her eyes growing serious with a touch of darkness. "And what if I don't?" Holly dared. Tommy opened his mouth to speak, but as his gaze was locked on hers, he was unable to form his new sentence. "Come on, let's get this stupid tour over with," He muttered, rolling his eyes.