A few days after moving into the new apartment, the first day of work for Jim Gordon arrived. That morning, the family ate their breakfast and made small talk while getting their last items for the day together. "Be careful walking through alleyways. I heard those places are notorious for muggings," Barbara warned, finishing the last of her coffee. "That's why they give us tasers and guns," Jim stated. "Well, I need to clock in by 7:30, so I got to head out now." The detective adjusted his dark gray tie before placing a quick kiss on his fiancée's lips.

"See you later, Hols," He quickly embraced his daughter. But before he could take another step towards the door, Barbara stopped him in his tracks. "Jim, I'm gonna need you to take her with you," She explained. The twelve-year-old looked over at her mother confused. They were together all the time while her father was working. What was the sudden change in arrangements? "I'm meeting with designers for the gallery, so I can't keep an eye on her,"

"Barb, my job can get dangerous. And besides, I don't think Holly should be exposed to the violence at her age," Jim attempted to reason. "I could always stay at home!" the girl reasoned. "Besides, you shouldn't be more than a few hours, right?" she glanced to her mother. "Sweetheart, I know you're almost a teenager, but I don't like leaving you home alone. Maybe you two can grab some lunch on break? Spend some daddy-daughter time?"

As Jim was about to repeat his words of concern, Barbara gave him a look that silently said, "Just do it," and stopped them from coming out. "Alright. Let's go, Holly," he quietly sighed. Holly jumped down from her stool and grabbed her black backpack and sketchbook. With one final kiss goodbye, the father-daughter duo got into his car and sped off towards the GCPD.

"Listen, when we get inside, I need you to stay close to me, okay? I don't need to pummel any criminals that try to grab at you," Jim instructed, his gaze still focused on the road. "Don't worry, Dad. I'll be just fine," Holly reassured. The moment they stepped into the old building, a woman wearing a black skin-tight dress and gray jacket stood near the entrance, seemingly waiting for someone. "Detective Gordon?" she called out the moment she saw him. "Captain Essen. It's nice to finally meet you," Jim held out his hand, and she gave it a firm shake.

"Pleasure to have you join us. Follow me, and I'll show you to where you'll be working," Holly trailed close behind as Essen led them up the stairs to a small set of three to four metal desks, a few already occupied. Essen stopped at the last desk a foot or two away from the wooden railing, pulling back the black swivel chair. "If you ever need any assistance, my office is right there," She pointed to the double-windowed door. "Bullock, this is your new partner, James Gordon. Gordon, this is Harvey Bullock,"

The man at the next desk set down his newspaper and adjusted his hat. He said nothing to the new detective but nodded in acknowledgement before returning to his paper. Holly couldn't help but look over to his desk as the front headline caught her eye... CRIME WAVE OF THE CENTURY. It talked about one of the city's first crime waves of robberies and murders, calling for the GCPD's action to fight against it. "Geez..." Holly inhaled sharply as she read the gruesome details of one of the murders. "Jesus Christ!" Harvey jumped back in his seat as he caught sight of the young girl watching him.

"Damn, nearly had a heart attack... who's the kid?" He asked. "This is my daughter, Holly," Jim briefly introduced. "Hi, didn't mean to scare you," She apologized. But Harvey squinted at his new partner, wondering why on earth Jim thought it was a good idea to bring a child to a place that temporarily housed criminals. "You do realize this is not a daycare center, right?"

"Holly's a good kid. She's not gonna cause trouble," Jim stated. There was no way he was giving himself a bad reputation on the first day by drawing attention. "Yeah, right. Essen's not going to be happy about this," Harvey stood up from his desk and walked over to the Captain's office. Jim took another quiet breath, but Holly could tell her dad was becoming frustrated. Not towards her, but the guy who would accompany him to assess crimes around the city.

"I don't think he likes me," she whispered. "It'll be fine. Just keep being good, and hopefully, he'll quiet down," Jim shook his head. A minute later, Essen returned to the desk, Bullock standing by her side as she looked down at Jim's daughter. "I was not informed you were bringing your child here," Essen stated flatly. "My fiancée requested I bring her while she handles business," Jim explained. "While I understand your situation, I am concerned for her safety, and everyone else's here," Essen replied, out of the corner of her eye noticing Bullock's slightly smug smile.

"With all due respect, Captain, my daughter's very calm and collected. She won't cause any problems, you have my word on that," Jim swore. Captain Essen pondered the thought for a moment. She also had children, so she could relate to him on the struggle of nobody being able to watch them. And looking back at his daughter, she could already tell Gordon would stay true to his word. "Alright, I'll allow it. But remember, she's not allowed to walk near the cells, got it?" Jim and Holly nodded, and the girl sat with her back against the railing, finishing up one of her latest drawings.

~~~~~~~

Later in the night, across town, a young boy in a small movie theater stood up from his seat and started clapping with his mom and dad as the movie they were watching rolled the credits. The applause echoed throughout the theater for a minute or two before the viewers began to file out row by row. But this wasn't your average middle-class family. It was the billionaire-power couple, Thomas and Martha Wayne, and their son Bruce. 

When it was their turn to get up, Bruce excitedly gripped his parent's hands, leading them onto the street, where they attempted to catch a cab. But the streets of Gotham were beyond busy for a Friday night. And it was almost impossible to catch a cab before somebody got into the back of one. Peering out the corner of his eye, Thomas Wayne saw a nearby alleyway that led to a less busy street. Maybe they would be able to catch a cab back uptown there.

"Let's cut through here," Thomas pointed out to his family. Martha and Bruce looked over to the alleyway, both feeling a little unsure. "Are you sure?" Martha questioned. "It's the quickest way to getting back home. Come on," The Wayne father answered. The family of three walked away from the developing crowd and towards the damp alleyway, recounting the movie and some of their favorite moments.

"Come on, Tom. You have to admit that scene wasn't that so bad!" Martha laughed as her husband talked about a horribly choreographed fight scene. "Really? Childish drivel," Thomas scoffed. "The acting was fine; the music was lovely. What about you, Bruce?" Martha looked over her shoulder. "Sorry Mom, I have to agree with Dad. It was kinda lame," Bruce chuckled. "Kinda lame? There's no such word as 'kinda' It was totally lame!" Thomas joked.

While the family was distracted with their evening recap, they were unaware that someone stepped out of the shadows and was walking towards them, his hands digging into his coat pocket. "Oh man, you boys are so-" Before Martha could finish her sentence, the mysterious man in black pointed a handgun at them, making Bruce gasp and stop in their tracks. "What's up, folks?" The man's voice muffled behind his black ski mask.

Thomas could already feel the fear in his wife and son, but no matter what would happen next, he needed to stay calm for them both. "Stay calm, Bruce," he whispered, not taking his eyes off the man in black. "Give me your money!" he demanded, his gloved pointer finger on the trigger. Thomas stood calm and composed as if he had been mugged at least a dozen times, and the fear no longer got to him. "No problem, we're cooperating," he assured, reaching into his pocket and handing him the wallet.

Martha held on tightly to Bruce, silently praying that after the man got what he wanted, he would leave them alone. "Now, the necklace," he gestured to the pearls around her neck. With shaking hands, Martha unclasped them from her neck. The man tugged rather harshly, making one of the strands snap and causing pearls to fall onto the wet pavement.

Without warning, the man pointed his gun at Thomas, firing a single shot into his chest. Martha and Bruce watched with horror as he fell to the ground, his eyes full of shock as his hand went to the wound, gushing blood. Then before either of them could say a word, the man shot Martha as well, her grip on Bruce loosening as she also fell to the ground. Bruce stood there paralyzed, unable to move a muscle as the gun was now pointed at him. All he could think about was this possibly being his final moments alive. Would he feel the pain? Would it be quick?

But nothing happened. Instead, the man in black lowered his gun, tucking it back into his pocket as his eyes locked onto Bruce for a moment before brushing past him and running down the way the family came. Still shaking, Bruce bent down, anxiously pleading for his parents to get up. "Mom? Mom!" He begged, shaking her lifeless body. He then turned to his father, pleading and calling out to him. Only a tiny groan came out of Thomas's mouth as he took one last look at his son. "Dad!" Bruce pleaded. Within seconds, the last signs of life faded from his father's eyes, leaving Bruce with a saddening and horrifying realization... his beloved parents were gone.

Slowly, the young boy looked down at his hands, completely covered in dark red blood. And as the bent-up fear coursed through his body, he fell onto his knees, his cry of anguish and sorrow echoing through the darkened passage.

~~~~~~~~

Even with Holly's intense concentration on her sketchbook, the sounds of protesting criminals would occasionally make her stop working, her pencil lingering half a centimeter from the paper. Most of the men and women that came and went were addicts scrambling for another high, some were graffiti artists, and others got into altercations that resulted in injury. But every so often, the occasional murderer or rapist would walk through those doors, hands bound behind their backs.

"I need my pills! Come on, give them to me!" A bald man in a black coat muttered as he was led to a holding cell. But as one of the officers was unlocking it, the man lurched towards her and reached for her gun, holding her in a headlock before shooting up at the ceiling, capturing everyone's attention. The officers pulled out their guns, and pointed them at the suspect. "Hold your fire!" Jim called out, placing a hand on Holly's shoulder, silently warning her to stay down. But that didn't stop her from looking through the railings for a better view of the situation. What is this guy on?

Jim walked down the small flight of stairs, cautiously standing a foot or two away from the addict, the mutter of his need for pills growing louder. "Sir, look at me. Not at them, look at me," He gently spoke. "My name's Jim, Jim Gordon. What's yours?" The man furiously blinked his eyes as his head twitched side to side. "I need my pills..." The suspect growled.

"Okay well, everything's going to be all right," Jim assured. Resting on top of one of the officer's desks, he grabbed a nearby bottle of aspirin, rattling it to draw the addicts gaze away from the hostage. "I've got your pills right here. Want some pills? Here you go," Taking the few Jim spilled into his hand, the addict grabbed them, still holding the female officer in the headlock. "These aren't my pills..." He shook once he ingested them.

While he was monetarily distracted, Jim took this opportunity to incapacitate him, knocking him to the floor with a few blows to the face and legs. The building filled with silence as everyone was stunned by what they had witnessed. "Sorry guys, I didn't mean to bark at you all like that. Got a little bit carried away," the detective apologized as other officers surrounded the suspect, beating him as he tried to free himself.

"What the hell are you doing? We had the drop on him!" Harvey hissed as he grabbed Jim by the arm, dragging him back to the desks. "Well he's dropped, isn't he?" Jim replied. "You could've gotten hurt. Rookie mistake, next time you shoot the son of a bitch," Bullock sighed. Holly slowly stood from ground as the spat between her father and his partner continued. And although she was too young to fully grasp the situations cops found themselves in, she did know that if one person were to start shooting, everybody would fire every which way.

"If somebody takes a cop's gun, you shoot him. End of story," Bullock insisted. Jim looked over his shoulder back to Holly, who gave a comforting smile, silently reminding him that the night would be over soon, and they could finally head home. "Yo, Bullock, Gordon, you're up! There's been a double homicide in the Theater District," The desk sergeant called out. "Give us a break, man. Our shift's nearly over!" Bullock called back. "Yeah nearly, not over yet,"

Doing his best to mask the anger on his face, Harvey stormed over to his desk and grabbed his hat and coat, Jim doing the same. "Come on, Hols. Keep up," he said. "Seriously? Are you going to bring your kid everywhere you go?" Bullock gritted his teeth. "It'll be fine," Jim said flatly before the three got into Harvey's car and drove toward the crime scene. Drawing closer, they could hear the sounds of sirens wailing, attracting some citizens to the area, but the bright yellow and black crime scene tape and officers that drove the crowd back prevented them from seeing who had been slain.

It must be really bad... Holly thought to herself as she watched some people try to stand on the tips of their toes and peer over the officer's heads. "Stay in the car, okay? We'll be right back," Jim whispered before walking with Harvey underneath the tape and over to the cloth-draped bodies. Chills ran down Holly's spine as she saw the blood stains on the coverings. The mere thought of being shot to death made her shiver, no one deserved such a horrific fate.

While she sat in the car, trying to drown out the sounds of the sirens continued wailing, Jim and Harvey talked with a few officers who arrived just moments before they did. "Male, female, gunshot. Their kid saw the whole thing. He hasn't spoken a word yet," Officer Tannenbaum explained. Jim looked over to the fire escape, where a young boy sat on the second to last step, bundled in a blanket, crying quietly into his lap. "So, he hasn't said a word to anybody?" Jim looked back to the cops. "Nope. Hasn't given a name, explanation, nothing." Tannenbaum confirmed.

There has to be some way we get him to talk about what happened, Jim wondered. If the adults couldn't get him to talk, maybe there was someone else who could. Someone who had a caring and kind personality when it came to comforting others. "I'll be right back," he said before rushing back to the car, where Holly remained in the backseat, softly humming. "Hols, I need your help," Jim tapped the window, and she opened the door just enough to hear what he was asking of her.

"But I thought you told me to stay in here?" Holly recalled. "I did, but there's a kid. He's not talking to anyone about what happened. Maybe you could give it a shot?" her father suggested. The car door opened a few inches, and Holly stepped onto the wet pavement. "What do you want me to do?" She questioned. "You're a kid, and he's a kid, if you gain his trust and comfort him, he could give us his name and explain what happened,"

Holly slowly nodded her head, following him to the fire escape, doing her best not to glance at the bodies. Just the bloodied cloth was scary enough, but seeing the corpses underneath was another level of disturbing. "Hi," she whispered. The boy slightly glanced up but quickly looked back at the ground. "My name is Holly Gordon. This is my father, he's going to be helping you with your parent's case," The young girl sat down in the empty space next to him. "I'm so sorry about what happened, I can't even begin to imagine what you're going through. We want to help you,"

He slowly looked over to Holly, softly murmuring his name. "Bruce. M-my name is Bruce Wayne," "Can you tell us what happened, Bruce?" Holly asked. But rather than opening up about the tragedy he witnessed, Bruce buried his face in his hands and continued sobbing. "I know it's hard. I know," Holly whispered, gently touching his shoulder. For a brief second, she looked at her father for extra guidance. He crouched down in front of them and sighed. He knew exactly how the boy felt, for he too lost his father at a very young age. And not a day went by since Holly's birth that he feared suffering the same fate and leave his little girl without a father.

"When I was about your age, a drunk driver hit our car. Killed my dad. I was right next to him. I promise you, Bruce. However dark and scary the world may be right now... there will be light," This time, as Bruce looked up from the blanket, he took the detective's sentence to heart. Maybe in the midst of pain and agony, there would be a light at the end of the tunnel. But at the moment, it was so dark. 

"W-we just got out of the movies. We were walking through the alley to catch an uptown cab, and... a man came out of the shadows. He-he was tall, with a black mask and... he had a hat and gloves, and shiny shoes. He took my dad's wallet and my mom's necklace. And then he shot them for no reason. I should've done something! But I was too scared!" Bruce explained. "There was nothing you could've done to stop what happened," Holly reassured. "But there is something you can do now,"

Bruce looked at the two with a questioning look. "You can be strong. Be strong. Bruce, I give you my word, I will find the man who did this," Jim vowed. "Th-thank you..." the Wayne nodded with gratitude. The sounds of cops gathering near the taped off scene made the three of them look up to see someone exiting a car, trying to get onto the scene. But before Jim could ask who the mysterious person was, Bruce caught glimpse that it was a familiar face and he ran towards them into the arms of an older man appearing to be in his late forties, with already silvery gray hair.

As Holly and her father approached them, the older gentlemen looked at them with a confused glance. "My name is Holly Gordon. This is my father," the girl introduced themselves. "James Gordon," the detective added. "I'm Alfred Pennyworth, the boy's butler," the man replied. "We'll catch the guy who did this, sir," Jim assured. "Your one of the new boys, aren't you?" Alfred questioned. Jim slightly shrugged his shoulders. "You could say that,"

With the tiniest smile, Alfred wished him good luck on finding the killer, and glanced over at Holly for a moment before turning his focus back to Bruce. "Come on, don't look. Head up, eyes front. Don't let them see you crying," Holly could hear the butler's words echoing throughout the alley as she watched them drive off.