"When I saw that balloon go up on TV, I knew it was one of mine, and I said to myself, "Jimmy boy, you better call the cops right away, or they'll try and pin this on you." The balloon owner said as Jim and Harvey stood on the other side of the metal table. "So it was you who called us? And here I thought my partner had gone to the trouble of tracking you down," Jim replied. "How exactly was one of your balloons used to kill Ronald Danzer?" Harvey questioned the owner. "It was stolen by my bum of an ex-employee a month ago, Carl Smikers. That's what I get for hiring a kid," the little man mumbled the last sentence under his breath.

"Did Carl ever mention Danzer?" Jim inquired. "Hell, no. I'm surprised he even knew who Danzer was. We ain't talking about one of those intellectually superior types here," The owner shook his head as he took off his hat. "You've got an address?" Harvey asked. The owner nodded but warned the detectives when they found him, they had to get back the others. Not understanding what the owner was implying, Jim asked him to clarify what he meant by "the others." "The other balloons, a grand a pop those things are. He stole four,"

Jim and Harvey slowly looked up to each other, realizing with Danzer dead, there were three targets left. But with an overwhelming amount of people living in Gotham, anyone could become the next target of the Balloonman. As they were about to continue their investigation and hopefully pinpoint who exactly the Balloonman was intending to target, they were too late. As he had struck again.

~~~~~~~~

In the middle of the night, it all seemed quiet as Holly got out of bed for a glass of water. She quietly shuffled over to the fridge, hoping not to wake her parents. But as she stepped into the kitchen, she could see her father sitting on one of the barstools, his head buried in his hands as the lack of sleep was getting to him. "Dad?" Holly spoke softly, tapping his shoulder. Jim blinked a few times, the room only illuminated by the faint building lights outside the open windows and the glow of the fridge. He couldn't see his daughter that well, only just the faint outline of her. "Hey, you should be asleep," Jim told her. "I just came down for some water. But, judging that you're also up at 2 a.m., something's going on," Holly responded.

She's got a point. Jim reasoned with himself as he watched her grab her glass. "You know you can tell me what's going on, right? I can handle hearing lots of things," Holly leaned across the counter. "It's not that I think you can't handle it, Hols. You've got six years of your childhood left, I don't want you to have to hear about all these horrible things," Jim sighed. "Well, moving here was kind of a reality check for me. That life is not always rainbows and sunshine," She took a sip from her glass, feeling the cold liquid run down her throat.

Jim hesitated for a moment. Regardless of whether he told her or not, word was going to spread about the Balloonman the second he struck again. "Is this about that guy attaching weather balloons to people?" Holly questioned. Perhaps she already knows. "Yeah, it is. The victim, Ronald Danzer was a con man. Nobody cares about what happened. All they can do is celebrate and say he got what he deserved. But what happens when it's the next person? Someone higher up? It's not right. Everyone has to matter, or nobody matters," Jim spoke.

Holly nodded her head in agreement. "Dad, you're not in any danger, are you?" she asked. Jim could smell the fear even though his daughter did her best to hide it. He stood up from his stool and brought her into his arms. Holly felt a little more at ease, knowing at that moment he was okay, but the fear of that changing lingered. "You don't have to worry about me, okay? I'm not going anywhere. Remember what you used to call me when you were little?" Holly lifted her face from his chest, a tiny smile forming at the memory. "You're a tough old bird?" Holly remembered. "Exactly! You've got a good heart, Holly. And I hope you never have to deal with the daily scum like I do,"

Holly hugged him a little tighter. She thought she'd be used to wishing him to stay safe by now, but every time, it felt like he was being sent away again. Only this time, he was closer to home. "You should go back to sleep. I'll be okay," Jim promised, watching as his daughter walked back to her bedroom, wishing a last goodnight before shutting her door.

~~~~~~~~

The next morning, the Balloonman's next victim was identified. But his victim this time hit closer to home. It was none other than Lieutenant Cranston himself. First a con man, now a cop. "It doesn't matter if you a cop. If you dirty, the Balloonman gonna get you," A man on the GCPD television screen spoke as Jim, Harvey, and Essen watched the broadcast inside her office. "It's time the people of Gotham realize that they have to stand up for themselves," Another interviewer spoke up. "Hey, Balloonman ought to get to my landlord next. He's a crook. And his name is Harold bl..." Before the old lady could finish targeting her landlord, Essen shut off the television, stressed to the max first thing that morning.

"This is wonderful. This is like my dream of how today was gonna go," Essen spoke sarcastically. "Besides the black eye to the department, now we have a vigilante who kills bad cops," "With all due respect, captain. Cranston wasn't that bad," Harvey interjected. But Essen was having none of it. "But whatever he was or wasn't guilty of, Cranston was a lieutenant in the GCPD. You don't get to go around killing cops!" She sighed. "So where are you on this and the Danzer murder?"

"We're looking for a man named Carl Smikers. He was an employee at the factory where the balloons were stolen. We have uniforms staking out his apartment, but he hasn't been back since last night," Jim explained as he held up Smiker's file. "And you like him for this?" Essen raised an eyebrow. Bullock answered almost instantly saying Smiker was guilty, further stirring his point to have Smiker be in a room with a detective. He'd be bawling his eyes out like a baby with a confession soon enough. "He's definitely connected, but I'm not sure he's the one," Jim added, which made Harvey scoff.

"He had weather balloons! Cranston and Danzer were killed with weather balloons! He's the guy!" Harvey insisted. "Smikers never graduated high school. He's never held a job for more than a year. He's got busts for soliciting, possession," Jim debated, pulling out the arrest records from the file as proof. "Why don't you tell her about the other balloons?" Harvey suggested. Captain Essen's eyes widened with surprise and further question. "What other balloons?" she asked. "Smikers' boss mentioned that four balloons are missing. There are two of them still out there," Jim mentioned.

The captain inquired about who the last two targets could be, and based on Cranston's recent death, the image became clearer for both Jim and Harvey to find a motive. "Danzer and Cranston were both known figures and known to be dirty. Killer didn't need any special knowledge to target them. So, it's likely the next target is public and known to be corrupt," Jim predicted. "Basically, every elected official in Gotham should stay indoors," Harvey shrugged with the corner of his lips tilting up in a joking manner. But to Essen, she did not find it funny, neither did Jim. "Find him. Now," She instructed as Harvey assured her that they would.

"We will? What happened to the killer doing the city a favor? You're gonna make me think you actually care," Jim shook his head at his partner's hypocrisy as they grabbed their jackets and headed for the door. "Listen, smartass, you want to kill a corrupt financier, be my guest. You kill a cop, then it's a job safety issue!" Bullock retorted. "Shouldn't we come up with a plan first?" Jim suggested. "Relax. One thing I do know is how to find someone," But judging how Harvey used to idolize Cranston for his "disciplined" and "righteous ways," Jim had mixed feelings about that statement.

He watched Harvey flirt with some of the hookers, harassing and kicking the asses of a few street criminals, but the detectives came up empty-handed. It wasn't until around noon it seemed like Harvey got some info from one of the women he frequented. And as Jim watched his partner order a wrap, he caught up to him and pressed him for info. "What did he tell you?" Jim questioned. "Nothing, I was just hungry," Bullock replied before taking a bite from his wrap. As they walked into one of the smaller apartment buildings, Harvey forgot to mention the details.

"So, our suspect had a prior for soliciting two years ago, right? So, one of my girls thought he looked familiar, remembered he liked big, brawny types. So, she pointed me to that p­imp, that guy who specialized in that. He remembered..." "After you roughed him up a little," Jim cut in. "...that he used to do deliveries for this dry cleaner, Mr. Chang. And he remembered, on top of everything else, the guy was a mahjong guy. He was into these Chinese bookies for five grand," Harvey finished. "And they sent you here?" Jim asked. "By way of some bike messengers, the guy that runs pickpockets on the south side, and a pot sticker joint the guy apparently loved,"

Jim and Harvey approached Smiker's supposed hiding place and quietly approached the door before Harvey knocked on it. "Dragon Palace," he called out. The door opened, and a woman poked her head out, claiming they didn't order any food. "Carl Smikers?" Harvey inquired. The woman's eyes widened at the name, and she looked back inside the apartment and told whoever was with her to run. Harvey pushed the door open the rest of the way, and the detectives ran inside.

Smikers tried to jump out the window and onto the fire escape, but Jim was quick to grab him and push him into the mattress lying on the floor. Jim quickly pulled out the handcuffs and detained Smikers while Harvey was getting thrown around the room by the woman, being chased around the small living room with a TV. "Jim, a little help here?!" Bullock called out to him. Jim turned around and reached for his gun, telling the woman to put down the TV and get on her knees. Slowly, she threw it onto the couch, which then bounced onto the ground, breaking it. Bullock got the woman into a second set of handcuffs, but not before getting one last hit, knocking her into unconsciousness.

~~~~~~~

With her first day of school only a couple of days away, Holly decided to finish working on one of the smaller paintings she had yet to complete when she left the suburbs. Her bedroom was full of light as it bounced off the freshly painted cream-colored walls, soft music playing in the background. As her artistic state of mind worked its magic on the endless wilderness of greens and blacks and small strands of light blue, a knock came from the front door. At first, it was really soft, but the second time she heard the knock, it seemed more desperate and serious.

Holly shut off the music and went to answer it, surprised to see who it was. "Montoya, what are you doing here?" Holly asked. "Good to see you, Hols. Is your mother home?" Montoya questioned. "Yeah, but she's in the shower right now. Can you come back later?" Holly replied. "No, I can't. It's very important," Montoya insisted. The Gordon daughter opened the door the rest of the way and let her inside. Montoya sat in the living room as Holly went to the kitchen and grabbed them something to drink. "Shouldn't you be in school?" Montoya questioned.

"School doesn't start till next Monday. Weird private school scheduling," Holly answered, sitting next to her. As if the conversation couldn't get any more awkward, the shower shut off, and Barbara walked into the room, wrapped in a robe and slippers. She nearly had a heart attack when she saw Montoya and Holly talking to each other. "Sorry to scare you. I knocked, and Holly let me in," Montoya explained. Barbara gave her daughter a look of "Are you serious?" before focusing her gaze back on Montoya. "Listen, it's been a stressful day. I've got a meeting in an hour, and I don't have the time for chatter," Barbara shook her head.

Both Montoya and Holly could smell the foul stench of something, and only when they looked down at Barbara's hand did they realize she rolled a fresh blunt. "You know I could have you arrested for that, right?" Montoya asked. "You disappointed?" Barbara smirked, sitting on the opposite end of the furniture. Montoya looked over to Holly, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Holly, why don't you go to your room? Your mother and I need to talk about some things in private," Montoya requested. "Alright then," Holly nodded before getting up and returning to her painting. But before she could even lift her paintbrush, she heard her mother and Montoya seemingly arguing. 

"Don't play with me, Barbara. I was there, remember? Through all of it," Holly heard from Montoya as she slightly opened her door just enough to hear. "Don't you mean you were a part of it?" Barbara retorted, making Montoya go silent. A part of what? What is mom talking about? "Fine, just answer the question," Barbara stood up, the smoking blunt still tucked between her fingers. "Yes, and this is done. You've come knocking on my door twice this past week, and now you've accused me of being a drug addict. You can leave!" Barbara pointed to the door.

"Not until we talk about Gordon, he's killed a man," Montoya insisted. "You told me about it, it's not true!" Barbara scoffed. "It's not Mario Pepper, another man. And he killed him on the orders of Carmine Falcone, the biggest crime boss in Gotham," Holly's eyes widened at hearing this, and she tried to disassociate the thought of her dad being a part of that. He wouldn't! He couldn't! Not unless mine or mom's life was in danger! Right? Holly debated with herself as Montoya's words filled her head and tried to poison Barbara's mind too. "You're lying," Barbara denied. "But, you know, I guess I should be used to that,"

Renee stepped back and nodded, tucking her hands into her jacket pockets. "True. When we were together, I did lie to you. A lot. But you always knew..." She stepped closer to Barbara, and from the corner of her eye, still watching and listening from her door, Holly saw Montoya and her mother so close together they almost brushed lips. "You looked in my eyes, and you knew when I was lying to you. Am I lying now?" Montoya asked. But Barbara would not give her the answer she was looking for. "Is it just because I love him? Is that why you are so determined to destroy him?" Barbara questioned.

"I've been sober for a year. Look, and I know that doesn't erase the things that I did. But I still care about you and Holly. I can't stand you being with this man, you deserve better," Renee pleaded. Their foreheads pressed against each other, the gentle caress of their breath spreading across their faces. As Barbara and Renee made eye contact, Renee tried to kiss her, but Barbara turned her head. "Leave, now,"

Montoya pulled away from her and started to walk out, but she suddenly stopped just a few feet away from Holly's door. Montoya looked back at Barbara, telling her to ask Jim where he was the night Oswald Cobblepot disappeared. "That's the name of the man he killed," Holly could feel her heart beat against her ribcage at these spiraling thoughts swirling in her head. First, her father might've been a part of the mob and killed someone, and now her mother had a secret past she and her father had no idea about. Processing it all made her feel sick to her stomach, and she could hope and pray it was all rumors, or she just misunderstood.