The moment Jim stepped a foot back into the GCPD, the entire precinct filled with silence and judgmental looks. "Gordon's here," One officer whispered to another. "What's he doing here?" Another one spoke. "Can you believe this guy?" But Jim ignored their snarky comments as he approached Detective Alvarez, who quietly continued his work. "Hey, Alvarez! You got any of those blank warrants that Judge Bam-Bam signed?" Jim asked. "Uh, yeah," Alvarez nodded, reaching into one of the file cabinets and handing him the requested warrants.

Jim returned to his desk, pulled out a typewriter and started printing the necessary info. No matter what had happened earlier that day, Jim was determined to make this day as normal as possible. But how could it be normal when most of his coworkers despised him and a huge target was on his back? "What the hell are you doing here?" Captain Essen whispered harshly. "I work here. It's my shift. Where else should I be?" Jim answered. "How about Alaska?" Essen suggested. As she sipped her morning coffee, she caught a glimpse of what Jim was doing and grabbed one of the blank warrants.

"Arrest warrants for who?" She questioned. Before Jim could explain his plan, she felt about a dozen eyes still closely watching her and Jim. Feeling unsettled by this, she suggested they continue their discussion in her office. And the second she shut the double doors, Jim answered her previous question. "Mayor Aubrey James, Carmine Falcone, and their close associates. On charges of conspiracy and perversion of justice in the Wayne murder case,"

"Are you insane?" Essen gaped. "Maybe a little. They're gonna try and kill me anyway. Might as well make them pay a price for it," Jim answered. "You're gonna arrest the mayor and Don Falcone. How?" Essen inquired. "My testimony is attached to the warrants. That alone is enough to indict them on a dozen counts," Essen shook her head as she sat back at her desk, unable to believe what she was hearing. "Sure, if you could execute the warrants, which you can't. If the D.A. would prosecute, which he won't. There's not a single cop or lawyer in the city who will help you," She explained.

"I think there are plenty of people willing to help me once they see it's possible to fight back," Jim spoke confidently. "You're dreaming. Nobody will help you. I won't help you! You don't think I want change just like you do?! I have a family, and so do you! Aren't you worried about Barbara and your daughter?" Jim sighed as he remembered the last time he saw Barbara and heard Holly's voice. "Jim, think about Holly. She depends on you, and if you died, I can't even imagine how heartbroken she'd be,"

Jim considered her words, but that wasn't enough to convince him to take Holly and get her far away from the city. "This is my home, this was my father's home. I'm not leaving," He insisted.

~~~~~~~~~~

Outside of Essen's office, a bald man dressed entirely in black walked into the precinct with two women dressed in scandalous amounts of black leather. The man seemed to linger and walk around the building, drawing the officers attention. He banged on a few metal desks before stepping on top of one. "Hello everyone! My name is Victor Zsasz. I'm sent here personally by Don Carmine Falcone himself on a matter of deep concern to him, so please, be respectful," He introduced himself, his hands gripping the edges of his blazer. "I'm here for Jim Gordon, only him. Everybody else, mind your business, and we're cool. So, where's Jim at?"

Slowly, everyone pointed to the office. Even though they were all supposed to look out for one another, they had no problem placing Jim's life in jeopardy. "Hey, Jim! Jim!" Victor called out. Both Essen and the detective turned around, confused by what was happening outside. Without another word to Essen, Jim handed her the warrants before slowly walking out and over to the balcony. "Hi Jim, relax. I'm supposed to take you in alive. Don Falcone wants to talk," Victor explained.

"Tell Falcone we'll talk. But not today," Jim spoke, his voice echoing to the other side of the building. But Victor did not take that response lightly. "Don't be that way! "Alive" is a very broad category. A man with no hands can still be alive," Victor snarled. "There are 50 cops in here. Try something," Jim challenged. Even though he couldn't see it from the distance, a tiny smirk was on the edge of Victor's lips. "Everybody out," He ordered. But rather than do as he told them, the other cops looked at each other, wondering what would happen and if Victor was serious with his request. "Please?!" He urged impatiently.

With that, everyone began to clear the room without further question. Essen was the only one who remained by Jim's side, unsure if she should leave or stay by his side. "Go, boss. Get out of here," Jim told her. "Jim..." she begged, knowing almost immediately the fate Jim would be subjected to. "Go, I can handle this," He assured her, not taking his gaze away from Victor. Essen slowly nodded as she left the building. "Well, how about now, Jim?" Victor continued to smirk, reaching into his blazer and pulling out his gun, and so did his right-hand women. 

Jim reached for his gun and started shooting at Victor, but he managed to dodge the bullets with a perfect flip, landing back on the ground. He and the two women pulled out their guns and immediately returned the fire as Jim ducked behind a few desks, firing a few bullets before taking cover. Jim knew he couldn't hide forever, he needed to escape as quickly as possible, and with only a few bullets left, he was running out of time. As the two women walked closer to his hiding spot, he popped out and shot at both of them, tossing a tiny trash canister in their direction. As he made a mad dash for the stairwell, Jim was shot in the side, but that didn't stop him from getting to safety.

He stumbled down the stairs, clutching his side, and looked behind him to make sure Victor wasn't following. At the bottom of one set, Jim looked at the dark red liquid staining his hand and shirt. Hearing footsteps from above, he ran the rest of the way into the parking garage, hiding behind a cop car. As Victor and the women drew closer and closer to his location, Jim quickly crawled across the lot to another car, unaware the trail of his blood gave away his next location. "Why are you hiding from me, Jim?" Victor asked, checking underneath the cars he walked past.

"Hey! What the-?" Another voice called out, but this time, it was one of the other officers. Victor and the women immediately turned around, shooting her in both legs. While Jim had this morbid distraction, he dashed towards the parking garage entrance. "There he is!" One of the women pointed out, shooting Jim in the thigh. As he lay on the ground, trying to gather his strength and run the rest of the way to safety, another car pulled into the lot and stopped in front of him. Montoya and Allen crouched behind the car doors and started firing at Victor and his accomplices.

"You need a ride?" Allen asked, popping open the passenger door. Without hesitation, Jim got into the backseat as the MCU cops got back inside the vehicle and drove away, bullets still being fired at the car.

~~~~~~~~~~

The final bell had rung for the day, and Holly and Cara walked out of their shared art class, watching each other's backs as they exited the building. Though the chances of one of Falcone's men simply walking into the school and taking her were slim to none, Holly could never be too sure of her safety. Once outside, the girls walked around the green lawn and past the loading zone, where Cara's nanny Florence stood by the limo. "Ah, Ms. Whitstock! I heard you're bringing a guest home," Florence smiled as she embraced Cara. "She's not just any guest. She's my friend. Holly, this is Florence. Florence, this is Holly," Cara clarified.

Holly slightly waved, and Florence smiled with acknowledgment before they piled into the limo. Holly had never been inside one before, nor did she ever imagine what'd it be like to ride in one. But as she fastened her seatbelt, she saw insane amounts of candies and sweets that sat in fancy cup holders. Endless amounts of M&Ms, tiny biscuits, rock candy sticks, and other delectables. "Go on, have some!" Cara encouraged, reaching for a couple of peanut butter cups. Holly slowly grabbed a handful of some of the candies and one of the rock sticks. As the limo started moving, Holly skillfully unwrapped the pop with one hand and popped it in her mouth. "Pretty good, huh? Florence makes sure to add fresh ones every day before school," Cara whispered.

"Lucky! My mom would kill me if she saw me eating sweets for breakfast," Holly smiled. "So, Ms. Holly, what do your parents do for a living?" Florence inserted herself into the conversation. "My mom just opened an art gallery, and my dad works for the GCPD," Holly answered. Florence looked surprised but responded with acceptance. "How very interesting. So, Ms. Whitstock tells me you just moved here? How do you like Anders Prep?"

The questions kept being fired Holly's way, but she had no fear as she responded as clearly and positively as possible. With Cara, she felt like she could be herself and not have to worry about judgment. Her parents did a great job raising her. Holly thought to herself. Later in the day, they pulled into the countryside, and drove past the guarded metal gates, and parked just outside the entrance. Another of Cara's servants opened the limo door, and Holly stepped out and looked at the beautiful mansion.

The architecture looked eerily similar to how Wayne Manor was built, the only difference being that Cara's home only had two levels instead of three. As they approached the front door, another servant was waiting and opened the door for them. "Welcome home, Ms. Whitstock and your guest," He smiled. The interior was greater than Holly imagined. White marbled floors, polished staircases, and figures were carved into the white pillars. "Wow, your house is amazing!" She looked back to Cara. "Thanks. My father inherited this estate from his father when he passed about a year ago," Cara smiled.

"Can I make you any tea, Ms. Whitstock?" Florence asked. "Yes please, raspberry if there's any left," Cara nodded. "We'll be in the library," Taking Holly's hand, the two girls walked into the library, where rows and rows of books lined every wall in that room. Wooden ladders nearly went up to the ceiling, and there were half a dozen small tables and green lamps organized with such precision. "So, is it just you when you get home from school?" Holly questioned. "Most of the time. Mom is at a medical convention, and my dad's part of Wayne Enterprises. So, they don't come home till almost midnight," Cara explained, a sigh at the end of her sentence.

"But you guys spend time together, right?" Holly inquired. "It's usually about business when I'm out with them.  We never get to do things normal families do," Cara admitted. "Maybe this is bad, but I'm kind of jealous of you," Holly's eyes widened. What does she mean by that? "Your parents love you, and yeah, your dad's job is dangerous given what's going on, but you spend time together whenever you can. Like actual time together! I'm just paraded around town like a show-pony for everyone's amusement!"

Holly continued to listen as Cara vented her frustrations. Holly never thought that the children of the rich and famous could be suffering deep down, longing to live a normal life. I guess living the high life has its downsides... "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bombard you with all this," Cara apologized. Holly walked over to Cara's end of the table and hugged her, assuring it was okay. Cara wiped away the tear trickling down her cheek and met Holly's kind and caring eyes. "I'm glad I met you, Hols," She started to smile. "I'm glad to have met you too, Cara," Holly embraced her again just as a knock came from the library door.

"Ms. Whitstock, Ms. Gordon, your tea and biscuits are ready!"