I'm just hoping I can play as the TMNT next time around, lmao.
Mao Mao
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Rewriting it...
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BATMAN
OLD GOTHAM
HOMECOMING - BITTERNESS
Harvey Dent. What more could be said about a childhood friend who undoubtedly had every reason to be furious? It was hard to blame him, given it had been years since their last farewell at a lively high school grad party. Rather than reaching out the moment he landed in Gotham, Bruce let two long weeks drift by in complete silence, with each day stretching on until Harvey decided he'd had enough and undoubtedly contacted Alfred to set up this long-awaited reunion. Seated outside a vibrant café, Harvey was finishing typing on his phone when he spotted Bruce approaching, an air of awkwardness trailing him like a shadow. As he took a seat across from his old friend, the tension was palpable, to say the least.
"Hey there, how's it going?" Bruce offered a hopeful smile, clearly aiming to lighten the mood.
Harvey raised an eyebrow, his face shifting into a scowl as he shot back with biting sarcasm. "'How's it going?' Seriously, Bruce? That's the best you can do after disappearing for eight years? No letters, no texts—just this? Impressive, truly."
"I needed to find myself, you know that." Bruce replied, a hint of regret flickering across his face as he spoke.
"Find yourself? Since when does 'ghosting' everyone in your life count as self-discovery." Harvey retorted, his voice edging towards a shout. "I never thought you'd just disappear on us—especially not on Alfred. He needed you just as much as you needed him. That girl from the repair shop and I had to step in, trying to fill the void you left behind. Just thinking about it gets me so fucking furious, Bruce."
Harvey was always merciless, his bluntness a constant since their middle school days. Fortunately, that hard-edged demeanor hadn't dulled with time. Perhaps that was exactly what Bruce needed—a stark reminder of the consequences of his choices, something Alfred would never have the heart to deliver. Feeling the weight of his friend's words, Bruce realized how much he had missed their dynamic over the years of travel. With a shaky breath, he finally admitted, "You're right. I shouldn't have pushed you, Alfred, or anyone else away. Yet, I chose to. Now, I'm here to make things right—not just with you, but with everyone I've hurt with my choice. I am genuinely sorry."
Bruce noticed a subtle shift in Harvey's demeanor; the fire in his eyes began to cool. He let out a deep sigh, and a faint smile crept onto his face. "Well, it's a start," he said, the edge in his voice softening.
"I guess those years away have worked some magic. You've actually grown up a bit." Harvey teased, unable to resist a jab.
Bruce chuckled in response. "You have as well, Chief Deputy District Attorney Dent."
"Yeah, well, nothing like uncovering the depths of Gotham's corruption to speed up the aging process," Harvey said with a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as a wry grin crept onto his face. "And what about those student loans!"
Alfred had informed him about Harvey's rise in the legal field. Fresh out of law school, Harvey participated in a groundbreaking lawsuit against the renowned Doctor Thorne for medical malpractice stretching years, resulting in revoking his medical license. Harvey caught the attention of the former District Attorney, who nominated him for his current position just before passing away from liver failure. Now, with a special election looming to fill the vacant position, whispers began to swirl that Harvey might be contemplating a run. It felt as if Gotham itself was beckoning to him, recognizing the potential hidden within the man willing to grapple with the shadows. This sensation was all too hauntingly familiar for Bruce—an echo of his current crusade. But this was something that could easily be something truly monumental. Unable to shake his curiosity, he leaned closer to his friend and asked:
"I've caught wind of your ambition to run for DA. Is there truth to those rumors?"
Harvey looked surprised before quickly giving way to a flash of irritation. "Don't put any stock in whatever the Gazette is spinning."
Bruce raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. "That's a shame. I honestly think you'd make a fantastic DA."
"Oh, y-you really think so?" Harvey stammered, his surprise giving way to an unmistakable spark of interest.
"Absolutely, Dent. You've always been the one to take a stand against injustice. I checked out your record as a prosecutor, and honestly, it's extraordinary. Taking down a caporegime in your first year? Getting justice for the victims of Dr. Thorne? I remember that day you almost got suspended for standing up to Tommy because you were fed up with his bullying. That moment made it clear to me: you were destined for greatness. And now, you have the chance to do even more." Bruce's voice was warm and sincere as he touched his friend's hand reassuringly. "I want a safer Gotham, and I'm convinced you're the only official who can make it happen."
Harvey sat speechless, the weight of the moment enveloping him. "I... I need to discuss this with Gilda. She's been encouraging me to run."
Bruce's eyes widened in surprise. "Gilda? Gilda Gold?" The name seemed to spark a flash of old memories, and his expression brightened at the revelation. The smile that spread across Harvey's face spoke volumes, filling Bruce with unexpected delight. Gilda had been a cherished friend from middle school, but she only knew Harvey from high school before moving away during their sophomore year. Now, the news of their rekindled friendship intrigued him more.
"Wow, how did that even happen?" Bruce asked.
"Well, she ended up attending the same law school as me, and then things just fell into place. We've been together for three years now. I really think she's the one." There was a warmth in Harvey's tone that made Bruce's heart swell with joy for his friend. Yet, amidst the happiness, a bittersweet ache lingered within him—a sorrowful reminder of the love that remained just out of reach as his crusade pressed onward.
"Hey there, how's it going?" Bruce offered a hopeful smile, clearly aiming to lighten the mood.
Harvey raised an eyebrow, his face shifting into a scowl as he shot back with biting sarcasm. "'How's it going?' Seriously, Bruce? That's the best you can do after disappearing for eight years? No letters, no texts—just this? Impressive, truly."
"I needed to find myself, you know that." Bruce replied, a hint of regret flickering across his face as he spoke.
"Find yourself? Since when does 'ghosting' everyone in your life count as self-discovery." Harvey retorted, his voice edging towards a shout. "I never thought you'd just disappear on us—especially not on Alfred. He needed you just as much as you needed him. That girl from the repair shop and I had to step in, trying to fill the void you left behind. Just thinking about it gets me so fucking furious, Bruce."
Harvey was always merciless, his bluntness a constant since their middle school days. Fortunately, that hard-edged demeanor hadn't dulled with time. Perhaps that was exactly what Bruce needed—a stark reminder of the consequences of his choices, something Alfred would never have the heart to deliver. Feeling the weight of his friend's words, Bruce realized how much he had missed their dynamic over the years of travel. With a shaky breath, he finally admitted, "You're right. I shouldn't have pushed you, Alfred, or anyone else away. Yet, I chose to. Now, I'm here to make things right—not just with you, but with everyone I've hurt with my choice. I am genuinely sorry."
Bruce noticed a subtle shift in Harvey's demeanor; the fire in his eyes began to cool. He let out a deep sigh, and a faint smile crept onto his face. "Well, it's a start," he said, the edge in his voice softening.
"I guess those years away have worked some magic. You've actually grown up a bit." Harvey teased, unable to resist a jab.
Bruce chuckled in response. "You have as well, Chief Deputy District Attorney Dent."
"Yeah, well, nothing like uncovering the depths of Gotham's corruption to speed up the aging process," Harvey said with a bitter chuckle, shaking his head as a wry grin crept onto his face. "And what about those student loans!"
Alfred had informed him about Harvey's rise in the legal field. Fresh out of law school, Harvey participated in a groundbreaking lawsuit against the renowned Doctor Thorne for medical malpractice stretching years, resulting in revoking his medical license. Harvey caught the attention of the former District Attorney, who nominated him for his current position just before passing away from liver failure. Now, with a special election looming to fill the vacant position, whispers began to swirl that Harvey might be contemplating a run. It felt as if Gotham itself was beckoning to him, recognizing the potential hidden within the man willing to grapple with the shadows. This sensation was all too hauntingly familiar for Bruce—an echo of his current crusade. But this was something that could easily be something truly monumental. Unable to shake his curiosity, he leaned closer to his friend and asked:
"I've caught wind of your ambition to run for DA. Is there truth to those rumors?"
Harvey looked surprised before quickly giving way to a flash of irritation. "Don't put any stock in whatever the Gazette is spinning."
Bruce raised an eyebrow with a sly grin. "That's a shame. I honestly think you'd make a fantastic DA."
"Oh, y-you really think so?" Harvey stammered, his surprise giving way to an unmistakable spark of interest.
"Absolutely, Dent. You've always been the one to take a stand against injustice. I checked out your record as a prosecutor, and honestly, it's extraordinary. Taking down a caporegime in your first year? Getting justice for the victims of Dr. Thorne? I remember that day you almost got suspended for standing up to Tommy because you were fed up with his bullying. That moment made it clear to me: you were destined for greatness. And now, you have the chance to do even more." Bruce's voice was warm and sincere as he touched his friend's hand reassuringly. "I want a safer Gotham, and I'm convinced you're the only official who can make it happen."
Harvey sat speechless, the weight of the moment enveloping him. "I... I need to discuss this with Gilda. She's been encouraging me to run."
Bruce's eyes widened in surprise. "Gilda? Gilda Gold?" The name seemed to spark a flash of old memories, and his expression brightened at the revelation. The smile that spread across Harvey's face spoke volumes, filling Bruce with unexpected delight. Gilda had been a cherished friend from middle school, but she only knew Harvey from high school before moving away during their sophomore year. Now, the news of their rekindled friendship intrigued him more.
"Wow, how did that even happen?" Bruce asked.
"Well, she ended up attending the same law school as me, and then things just fell into place. We've been together for three years now. I really think she's the one." There was a warmth in Harvey's tone that made Bruce's heart swell with joy for his friend. Yet, amidst the happiness, a bittersweet ache lingered within him—a sorrowful reminder of the love that remained just out of reach as his crusade pressed onward.
I should get a post out by the end of the day.
BATMAN
OLD GOTHAM
HOMECOMING - AGREE TO DISAGREE
"You truly don't know what you've just done, do you?"
Bruce's uncle confronted him, and the displeasure was evident in his tone and expression. The conference room was nearly empty, except for a few eager individuals hoping to have a personal conversation with the newly appointed CEO. Despite Philip Kane's composed facade, a subtle glimpse of his unfiltered thoughts was ready to break through, catching his nephew's full focus.
"Shutting down the entire arms division, canceling those DoD contracts without reason, will cost the company millions! Not to mention, our competitors will surely swoop in to grab those contracts, especially Powers Technology. They've been eagerly waiting for an opportunity to gain an advantage over us, and now they've got it." Philip's hands clenched as he exclaimed, struggling to contain his outrage. Yet, his anger cut deeper than it seemed. To everyone else, it appeared as a simple objection from a man on his way out. But to Bruce, it felt like a desperate final plea to change course now before... Before what, though?
"I understand your concerns, uncle." Bruce smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I have already devised a plan to recuperate any lost profits during this transitional period."
"It isn't just about the money." Philip nearly shouted; his frustration was pretty evident. After taking a moment to collect himself, he stepped back from Bruce and continued in a last-ditch effort, "Your decision will definitely ruffle some feathers with the investors and partners I've dedicated sixteen years of my life nurturing for the company. I can't bear to see all my hard work undone by a mistake that could simply be overlooked. Your father would agree with me and berate you afterward."
The room fell into stunned silence as Philip's final words hung in the air, nearly every eye focused upon him. Frantically, he quickly tried to backtrack, stammering, "Ah, that's not what I meant-"
Bruce felt the tension in the room escalating as if any criticism of him or his father was forbidden. Emilia, in particular, was appalled by the remark and wasted no time in contacting security to have him escorted out of the building. It felt not just insulting but also as if he was being treated like that fragile child all over again. That was almost two decades ago; he had managed to move forward in a positive and healthy way. At least, that's what he told himself. But just before things could've gotten any more awkward, Bruce cut in to defuse the tension and carefully approached his uncle. "You could be right, Philip. My decision might indeed disappoint my father. Unlike you, the chance to have that personal connection with him was taken from me, but I've dived deep into how his decisions made Wayne Enterprises a global powerhouse. Thomas Wayne was ambitious, yet never lost sight of the principles he pledged to uphold as a doctor long before even inheriting the company."
"You see it in the several donations to the ICRC and other humanitarian agencies for his own pocket. Keeping that in mind, my father would actually agree with me." Bruce declared firmly to the whole room. His uncle was stunned and disheartened, realizing he couldn't sway his nephew to reconsider. With a heavy sigh, Philip began to leave the room, feeling utterly deflated, even though security was on its way. He hesitated to leave, then turned to Bruce and spoke in a hushed tone:
"At least you're as brave as he was—you'll need it."
Bruce stared at his uncle in surprise, struck by the veiled warning that seemed to be the only piece of advice he could offer. Emilia came up to him and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am." Bruce answered warmly as Lucius Fox joined them. "While I disagree with Philip's comments about your father, he does have a point about the financial hit we're going to face. I really hope your plan pulls through."
A member of the board spoke up nervously. "GCPD should be at least be open to hearing our offer, especially with the recent increase in crime."
"I still think it's too risky to get involved with them given their... reputation," another border member interjected.
"That's why we should be helping them out," Emilia chimed in.
"This isn't a guaranteed deal, and I am exploring all other options. I hope to have lunch with the commissioner soon to discuss a potential partnership. In the meantime, I want us to prepare for the worst-case scenario regardless." Bruce declared as he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, quickly pulling it out. A text from Alfred flashed on the screen that made him chuckle: Harvey insists on talking today. Meet him at the cafe near his office.
Bruce's uncle confronted him, and the displeasure was evident in his tone and expression. The conference room was nearly empty, except for a few eager individuals hoping to have a personal conversation with the newly appointed CEO. Despite Philip Kane's composed facade, a subtle glimpse of his unfiltered thoughts was ready to break through, catching his nephew's full focus.
"Shutting down the entire arms division, canceling those DoD contracts without reason, will cost the company millions! Not to mention, our competitors will surely swoop in to grab those contracts, especially Powers Technology. They've been eagerly waiting for an opportunity to gain an advantage over us, and now they've got it." Philip's hands clenched as he exclaimed, struggling to contain his outrage. Yet, his anger cut deeper than it seemed. To everyone else, it appeared as a simple objection from a man on his way out. But to Bruce, it felt like a desperate final plea to change course now before... Before what, though?
"I understand your concerns, uncle." Bruce smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. "I have already devised a plan to recuperate any lost profits during this transitional period."
"It isn't just about the money." Philip nearly shouted; his frustration was pretty evident. After taking a moment to collect himself, he stepped back from Bruce and continued in a last-ditch effort, "Your decision will definitely ruffle some feathers with the investors and partners I've dedicated sixteen years of my life nurturing for the company. I can't bear to see all my hard work undone by a mistake that could simply be overlooked. Your father would agree with me and berate you afterward."
The room fell into stunned silence as Philip's final words hung in the air, nearly every eye focused upon him. Frantically, he quickly tried to backtrack, stammering, "Ah, that's not what I meant-"
Bruce felt the tension in the room escalating as if any criticism of him or his father was forbidden. Emilia, in particular, was appalled by the remark and wasted no time in contacting security to have him escorted out of the building. It felt not just insulting but also as if he was being treated like that fragile child all over again. That was almost two decades ago; he had managed to move forward in a positive and healthy way. At least, that's what he told himself. But just before things could've gotten any more awkward, Bruce cut in to defuse the tension and carefully approached his uncle. "You could be right, Philip. My decision might indeed disappoint my father. Unlike you, the chance to have that personal connection with him was taken from me, but I've dived deep into how his decisions made Wayne Enterprises a global powerhouse. Thomas Wayne was ambitious, yet never lost sight of the principles he pledged to uphold as a doctor long before even inheriting the company."
"You see it in the several donations to the ICRC and other humanitarian agencies for his own pocket. Keeping that in mind, my father would actually agree with me." Bruce declared firmly to the whole room. His uncle was stunned and disheartened, realizing he couldn't sway his nephew to reconsider. With a heavy sigh, Philip began to leave the room, feeling utterly deflated, even though security was on its way. He hesitated to leave, then turned to Bruce and spoke in a hushed tone:
"At least you're as brave as he was—you'll need it."
Bruce stared at his uncle in surprise, struck by the veiled warning that seemed to be the only piece of advice he could offer. Emilia came up to him and asked, "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, I am." Bruce answered warmly as Lucius Fox joined them. "While I disagree with Philip's comments about your father, he does have a point about the financial hit we're going to face. I really hope your plan pulls through."
A member of the board spoke up nervously. "GCPD should be at least be open to hearing our offer, especially with the recent increase in crime."
"I still think it's too risky to get involved with them given their... reputation," another border member interjected.
"That's why we should be helping them out," Emilia chimed in.
"This isn't a guaranteed deal, and I am exploring all other options. I hope to have lunch with the commissioner soon to discuss a potential partnership. In the meantime, I want us to prepare for the worst-case scenario regardless." Bruce declared as he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket, quickly pulling it out. A text from Alfred flashed on the screen that made him chuckle: Harvey insists on talking today. Meet him at the cafe near his office.
I will write shorter posts for now so I can be at least more active.
BATMAN
OLD GOTHAM
HOMECOMING - FIRST DAY
Bruce had only managed to catch five hours of sleep before his alarm jolted him awake. This afternoon was reserved for the company board meeting at Wayne Tower, where he would be officially appointed as the new CEO of Wayne Enterprises, taking over from Philip Kane. He had expected his uncle to put up a fight, but to his amazement, Philip gracefully conceded, showing no signs of resentment so far. Even now, he couldn't shake off the dread that had long haunted him for years: the fear of failing his father. A constant reminder of this fear loomed above his seat: a portrait of his father, a formidable figure set against the Gotham skyline. Bruce took a long slip from his cup of water, secretly wishing it was something stronger.
"Bruce!" A Scotch neat sounded very lovely right about now. "Good to finally see you."
"You too, Emilia." Emilia Lawford, the company chairwoman, was his mother's dearest friend who established a nonprofit for mental health services that saw success. Bruce offered a warm smile and gently shook her hand. "How's Warren?"
Emilia tried her best to conceal her disappointment and nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, you know, he's still working on his undergraduate degree. But enough of that, the meeting's about to begin. I just wanna say that your mother would be so proud of you if she were still here with us. As would your father, of course. I have something for you, I found this a while ago that belonged to your mother, and you should have it."
Bruce was handed a small, neatly wrapped box. And opening, his eyes sparkled upon finding not just one but two different class rings nestled inside. One was a solid yellow-gold Amethyst gem ring engraved with "Gotham Academy - 87," while the other was a sleek silver Onyx gem ring with "Gotham U - 1991" etched into it. Both rings were beautifully crafted, and the gems still held their vibrant colors. Even though Bruce knew the rings were too small for him, he cherished them as mementos of his mother's remarkable academic achievements. Martha had graduated as a salutatorian in high school and earned her bachelor's degree in mathematics long before she met Thomas Wayne. Bruce was truly grateful for the gifts.
"Thank you so much for finding them," Bruce said sincerely as he closed the box and tucked it in his jacket pocket before pulling Emilia in for a warm hug.
"Of course," Emilia replied, her eyes welling up with tears as she gazed at her own class ring, almost identical to her friend's. Their embrace was cut short by the arrival of Philip, indicating that the meeting was starting very soon. Emilia composed herself, wiped her tears, and took a deep breath before telling Bruce, "You'd better take your seat. We can catch up more personally over drinks later, alright?"
Bruce nodded and made his way over to the chair at the end of the conference table. The portrait was daunting and unavoidable in its presence, even as he took his seat. He cast a quick glance at the folder resting on the table. Undoubtedly, it held a wealth of documents and reports detailing the projects and initiatives the company had been pursuing in recent years. He made a mental note to delve into it during the lengthy meeting. Then, his attention was soon drawn to a filing tab labeled "Weapon Manufacturing" in bold marker. Bruce's whole demeanor shifted as he realized that this subdivision was responsible for researching and producing 3D-printed weaponry for potential military use.
To say that he was displeased would be an understatement.
"Bruce?" Emilia's voice echoed in the room, laced with concern. "Is everything alright?"
Bruce straightened his tie, preparing to announce the dismantling of the subdivision despite the potential impact on profits and relations with the Department of Defense. He was ready to take a stand, even if it meant facing opposition from other board members and investors. But that meant working some angles to get back on their good side. Luckily, his family name still carried weight in this city. "I have some concerns I'd like to address right now. If everyone could please turn to page..."
"Bruce!" A Scotch neat sounded very lovely right about now. "Good to finally see you."
"You too, Emilia." Emilia Lawford, the company chairwoman, was his mother's dearest friend who established a nonprofit for mental health services that saw success. Bruce offered a warm smile and gently shook her hand. "How's Warren?"
Emilia tried her best to conceal her disappointment and nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders. "Oh, you know, he's still working on his undergraduate degree. But enough of that, the meeting's about to begin. I just wanna say that your mother would be so proud of you if she were still here with us. As would your father, of course. I have something for you, I found this a while ago that belonged to your mother, and you should have it."
Bruce was handed a small, neatly wrapped box. And opening, his eyes sparkled upon finding not just one but two different class rings nestled inside. One was a solid yellow-gold Amethyst gem ring engraved with "Gotham Academy - 87," while the other was a sleek silver Onyx gem ring with "Gotham U - 1991" etched into it. Both rings were beautifully crafted, and the gems still held their vibrant colors. Even though Bruce knew the rings were too small for him, he cherished them as mementos of his mother's remarkable academic achievements. Martha had graduated as a salutatorian in high school and earned her bachelor's degree in mathematics long before she met Thomas Wayne. Bruce was truly grateful for the gifts.
"Thank you so much for finding them," Bruce said sincerely as he closed the box and tucked it in his jacket pocket before pulling Emilia in for a warm hug.
"Of course," Emilia replied, her eyes welling up with tears as she gazed at her own class ring, almost identical to her friend's. Their embrace was cut short by the arrival of Philip, indicating that the meeting was starting very soon. Emilia composed herself, wiped her tears, and took a deep breath before telling Bruce, "You'd better take your seat. We can catch up more personally over drinks later, alright?"
Bruce nodded and made his way over to the chair at the end of the conference table. The portrait was daunting and unavoidable in its presence, even as he took his seat. He cast a quick glance at the folder resting on the table. Undoubtedly, it held a wealth of documents and reports detailing the projects and initiatives the company had been pursuing in recent years. He made a mental note to delve into it during the lengthy meeting. Then, his attention was soon drawn to a filing tab labeled "Weapon Manufacturing" in bold marker. Bruce's whole demeanor shifted as he realized that this subdivision was responsible for researching and producing 3D-printed weaponry for potential military use.
To say that he was displeased would be an understatement.
"Bruce?" Emilia's voice echoed in the room, laced with concern. "Is everything alright?"
Bruce straightened his tie, preparing to announce the dismantling of the subdivision despite the potential impact on profits and relations with the Department of Defense. He was ready to take a stand, even if it meant facing opposition from other board members and investors. But that meant working some angles to get back on their good side. Luckily, his family name still carried weight in this city. "I have some concerns I'd like to address right now. If everyone could please turn to page..."
So, by post, do you mean like a regular post or something else in mind?
Finally done. Here, have a little treat for me:
BATMAN
WEST SIDE
FIRST FLIGHT - A SIGHT UNLIKE ANY OTHER
West Side always seemed to be overshadowed by its larger neighbor on the lower island in recent decades. The neighborhood had been neglected by city officials in allocating sufficient funding to the area, making it relatively insignificant to both tourists and its own residents. Despite numerous attempts to breathe new life into the neighborhood, promising initiatives often became mired in bureaucratic red tape and were then ultimately forgotten. Quite conveniently, there was no shortage of funding available when it came to renovating several of Old Gotham's historic buildings into luxurious hotels, often complete with chic restaurants or trendy bars. And the blatant neglect all stemmed from one significant reason:
West Side was built for the working class of Gotham.
For Officer James Newman, though, it was going to be a slow late night. But he'd take that over patrolling the Narrows or, heaven forbid, East End any day. Besides, the calm made it the perfect opportunity to size up his new partner, Mason Nichols, and decide whether he'd be a headache, a pushover, or a perfect fit for the badge. And so far, while driving along the streets, the rookie cop was leaning every more slightly towards being a big headache.
"So yeah, I want to be able to uphold the law like my father." Mason declared, his voice brimming with pride.
But maybe, just maybe, he could be molded.
"But your father was with the LAPD for about thirty years, right?" James asked, to which Mason nodded.
"Gotham City is a whole different ball game, kid. You've got to watch your step and be aware of any toes you'd be stepping on, or your career in the force will be a rather short one." James warned, his eyes scanning the rookie up and down. The newcomer may have thought he knew a thing or two about Gotham from whoever convinced him to leave sunny LA in favor of the gloomy city. But little did he know what he was truly getting himself into. "I'm sure your father knows all about that."
"I suppose so." Mason shrugged as he turned towards the window, gazing at the deserted street. "He and I haven't talked much in a while."
"He disapproved of you moving here?"
Mason let out a chuckle. "You could say that."
Suddenly, the dispatcher's crackling voice broke in over the radio, interrupting the conversation just as it was getting somewhere. James, visibly irritated, shifted his focus to the road, ignoring the ongoing transmission. "Central to any unassigned West Side units. Disorderly conduct reported at Cameron/Bedford Station. Suspect is described as a white male in his late 30s, behaving aggressively towards metro security."
Mason grabbed the speaker mic and spoke into it rather quickly, "Dispatch, 1-02. Request received."
James shot a glance at the rookie, sighed in resignation, and made a sharp right toward the station. The early morning was beginning to stir, with people bustling inside their homes as they prepared for the day ahead. Some were already out on the streets while others lingered at bus stops and more yet made their way to subway stations. As they arrived, the identity of the individual became unmistakably clear to James. He was one of the many persistent homeless individuals whom he dealt with regularly despite only living on the streets for just under a year and a half. He stood there wholly soaked, along with his duffle bag filled with belongings, clearly aggravated and mumbling some colorful words towards the nearby security guards.
Stepping out of the patrol car, James marched over to the man, hand ready on the tazer. The homeless man turned at the sound of footsteps, casting a disdainful look in the direction. "You here to make fun of me, Newman?"
James managed to maintain his composure, though a soft chuckle slipped out as the question was posed. He was just about to deliver a smug retort when Mason appeared, clutching an unopened emergency blanket. "Here, sir. Hopefully, this will warm you up and get your clothes dried up." The rookie said earnestly as he handed over the blanket and then pulled out a small notebook. He made sure to take a short moment to collect himself before asking, "Can you tell us what happened?"
Mason wrote down how the man was waiting for his boyfriend to arrive in the early hours when he was approached by someone working from the city as a cleaner. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he and his belongings were sprayed with cold water. Security promptly intervened but seemed to pay no attention to the unjust act and kicked him out despite paying the fare earlier. That was the story, at least for the moment. And honestly, to Mason, the homeless man's genuine distress and the dramatic display of his drenched bag seemed to make it an open-and-shut case. On the other hand, James was getting increasingly frustrated with his partner's sympathy towards him. This was the same person who showed apparent disrespect towards police officers, often getting cited for camping outside and then playing the victim card whenever alongside his boyfriend. His antics were getting tiresome to be dealing with constantly, and it was going to end now—one way or the other.
"Interesting story, Matty." James chuckled sarcastically, turning his body camera off as he edged closer to the man. "Why don't we let my partner figure out what really happened while you and I have a heart-to-heart?"
Matty shot a fearful look towards the other officer, silently urging him to step in and do something. Mason met his gaze and contemplated whether he should risk potentially straining his partnership with James. Having just graduated from the academy, he knew that jeopardizing his reputation within the force for some homeless person would be incredibly irresponsible and reckless. But that terrified expression on his face propelled him to speak up despite the risks.
"I wasn't done questi-"
"You are now." James cut him off, guiding the homeless man towards a nearby alley, losing the blanket in the process. All before Mason could have protested any further. It felt like a warning, firm yet delivered with a touch of kindness but laced with an unmistakable sense of unease beneath the surface. At least, that's what he told himself to rationalize his decision to allow a likely innocent man to be taken, unable to shake off the uncertainty of his partner's intentions. Still, a part of him couldn't help but be grateful that his solidarity seemed to remain largely intact. Eager to clear his mind, Mason sought out more details about the incident from the metro security guards waiting nearby to clear his mind off the mess.
But Mason was frustrated to have learned nothing substantial for them. So, rather than letting the headache of the situation linger, he opted to request the security footage, which the guards were more than willing to provide to the department. But when Mason returned to the patrol car, much to his surprise, his partner was nowhere to be seen. He had expected his absence to be brief, but as the morning commuters started pouring into the station, it was clear that something was amiss.
Suddenly, he heard a sharp yelp emanating from the alleyway, and then Matty came sprinting away, unknowingly heading straight for him. Acting quickly, Mason lunged and caught him before he could slip away, fully aware that he was not acting right. The suspect struggled furiously, squirming and wriggling all about, but Mason managed to pin him down to the ground. With his knee firmly planted in the man's back, Mason locked eyes with him and demanded, "Where is my partner?"
A crowd was beginning to gather around them; some took out their phones to film the unfolding situation. Matty screamed in terror, his gaze fixated on the alleyway, "A bat took him!"
Mason was taken aback by the answer. "A what?" He couldn't comprehend what he was hearing, almost wanting to burst into laughter at its sheer absurdity. But then, why was it said with such sincerity? "Do you take me for an idiot?"
"No!" Matty shouted, frantically shielding his face with his hands. "You have to believe me, it-t it was a huge bat! Your partner was about to pummel me with his baton when it swooped down and snatched him right out of the air. I swear!"
There were too many people to press him for more, and the crowd was still growing in size. So, Mason had no other choice but to detain him and call for backup, although he didn't appear to be a violent person at the moment. Matty fought against being restrained; he struggled upon hearing the handcuffs being pulled out of the holster. "Stay still, damn it!" Mason yelled out as he hoisted him up from the ground, opting to push him against the patrol car. But before having the chance to do so, the awful noise of a sharp thud against the car caused him to flinch, inadvertently releasing the man from his grip. The crowd erupted into panic as Mason turned to find his partner lying on the car roof, severely battered and bruised.
But he was still breathing.
James lay unconscious, his right arm twisted at a grotesque angle and his hand utterly crushed. Without a moment's hesitation, Mason sprinted over towards him, not caring about Matty's hasty escape and the growing crowd gathering around the car. As he tried to assess his partner's condition, deciding whether to move him, something on the roof above caught his eye. The sun was making it hard to see clearly, but it looked like someone in all-black attire, possibly wearing... a cloak? It soon vanished from view, leaving him bewildered. But his attention swiftly returned to James, who was starting to come to. Mason reached for his radio and urgently called dispatch for an ambulance and backup. Then he tried his damnest to comfort James. "Help is on the way. You're alive and breathing. Just stay with me, okay?" Mason asked, desperate to keep his partner conscious and for answers, "What happened to you?"
James' eyes snapped wide open as he fought to face his partner, tears cascading down his face as he vividly relived the horrifying ordeal. With great strength, he managed to choke out, "A bat attacked me."
West Side was built for the working class of Gotham.
For Officer James Newman, though, it was going to be a slow late night. But he'd take that over patrolling the Narrows or, heaven forbid, East End any day. Besides, the calm made it the perfect opportunity to size up his new partner, Mason Nichols, and decide whether he'd be a headache, a pushover, or a perfect fit for the badge. And so far, while driving along the streets, the rookie cop was leaning every more slightly towards being a big headache.
"So yeah, I want to be able to uphold the law like my father." Mason declared, his voice brimming with pride.
But maybe, just maybe, he could be molded.
"But your father was with the LAPD for about thirty years, right?" James asked, to which Mason nodded.
"Gotham City is a whole different ball game, kid. You've got to watch your step and be aware of any toes you'd be stepping on, or your career in the force will be a rather short one." James warned, his eyes scanning the rookie up and down. The newcomer may have thought he knew a thing or two about Gotham from whoever convinced him to leave sunny LA in favor of the gloomy city. But little did he know what he was truly getting himself into. "I'm sure your father knows all about that."
"I suppose so." Mason shrugged as he turned towards the window, gazing at the deserted street. "He and I haven't talked much in a while."
"He disapproved of you moving here?"
Mason let out a chuckle. "You could say that."
Suddenly, the dispatcher's crackling voice broke in over the radio, interrupting the conversation just as it was getting somewhere. James, visibly irritated, shifted his focus to the road, ignoring the ongoing transmission. "Central to any unassigned West Side units. Disorderly conduct reported at Cameron/Bedford Station. Suspect is described as a white male in his late 30s, behaving aggressively towards metro security."
Mason grabbed the speaker mic and spoke into it rather quickly, "Dispatch, 1-02. Request received."
James shot a glance at the rookie, sighed in resignation, and made a sharp right toward the station. The early morning was beginning to stir, with people bustling inside their homes as they prepared for the day ahead. Some were already out on the streets while others lingered at bus stops and more yet made their way to subway stations. As they arrived, the identity of the individual became unmistakably clear to James. He was one of the many persistent homeless individuals whom he dealt with regularly despite only living on the streets for just under a year and a half. He stood there wholly soaked, along with his duffle bag filled with belongings, clearly aggravated and mumbling some colorful words towards the nearby security guards.
Stepping out of the patrol car, James marched over to the man, hand ready on the tazer. The homeless man turned at the sound of footsteps, casting a disdainful look in the direction. "You here to make fun of me, Newman?"
James managed to maintain his composure, though a soft chuckle slipped out as the question was posed. He was just about to deliver a smug retort when Mason appeared, clutching an unopened emergency blanket. "Here, sir. Hopefully, this will warm you up and get your clothes dried up." The rookie said earnestly as he handed over the blanket and then pulled out a small notebook. He made sure to take a short moment to collect himself before asking, "Can you tell us what happened?"
Mason wrote down how the man was waiting for his boyfriend to arrive in the early hours when he was approached by someone working from the city as a cleaner. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he and his belongings were sprayed with cold water. Security promptly intervened but seemed to pay no attention to the unjust act and kicked him out despite paying the fare earlier. That was the story, at least for the moment. And honestly, to Mason, the homeless man's genuine distress and the dramatic display of his drenched bag seemed to make it an open-and-shut case. On the other hand, James was getting increasingly frustrated with his partner's sympathy towards him. This was the same person who showed apparent disrespect towards police officers, often getting cited for camping outside and then playing the victim card whenever alongside his boyfriend. His antics were getting tiresome to be dealing with constantly, and it was going to end now—one way or the other.
"Interesting story, Matty." James chuckled sarcastically, turning his body camera off as he edged closer to the man. "Why don't we let my partner figure out what really happened while you and I have a heart-to-heart?"
Matty shot a fearful look towards the other officer, silently urging him to step in and do something. Mason met his gaze and contemplated whether he should risk potentially straining his partnership with James. Having just graduated from the academy, he knew that jeopardizing his reputation within the force for some homeless person would be incredibly irresponsible and reckless. But that terrified expression on his face propelled him to speak up despite the risks.
"I wasn't done questi-"
"You are now." James cut him off, guiding the homeless man towards a nearby alley, losing the blanket in the process. All before Mason could have protested any further. It felt like a warning, firm yet delivered with a touch of kindness but laced with an unmistakable sense of unease beneath the surface. At least, that's what he told himself to rationalize his decision to allow a likely innocent man to be taken, unable to shake off the uncertainty of his partner's intentions. Still, a part of him couldn't help but be grateful that his solidarity seemed to remain largely intact. Eager to clear his mind, Mason sought out more details about the incident from the metro security guards waiting nearby to clear his mind off the mess.
But Mason was frustrated to have learned nothing substantial for them. So, rather than letting the headache of the situation linger, he opted to request the security footage, which the guards were more than willing to provide to the department. But when Mason returned to the patrol car, much to his surprise, his partner was nowhere to be seen. He had expected his absence to be brief, but as the morning commuters started pouring into the station, it was clear that something was amiss.
Suddenly, he heard a sharp yelp emanating from the alleyway, and then Matty came sprinting away, unknowingly heading straight for him. Acting quickly, Mason lunged and caught him before he could slip away, fully aware that he was not acting right. The suspect struggled furiously, squirming and wriggling all about, but Mason managed to pin him down to the ground. With his knee firmly planted in the man's back, Mason locked eyes with him and demanded, "Where is my partner?"
A crowd was beginning to gather around them; some took out their phones to film the unfolding situation. Matty screamed in terror, his gaze fixated on the alleyway, "A bat took him!"
Mason was taken aback by the answer. "A what?" He couldn't comprehend what he was hearing, almost wanting to burst into laughter at its sheer absurdity. But then, why was it said with such sincerity? "Do you take me for an idiot?"
"No!" Matty shouted, frantically shielding his face with his hands. "You have to believe me, it-t it was a huge bat! Your partner was about to pummel me with his baton when it swooped down and snatched him right out of the air. I swear!"
There were too many people to press him for more, and the crowd was still growing in size. So, Mason had no other choice but to detain him and call for backup, although he didn't appear to be a violent person at the moment. Matty fought against being restrained; he struggled upon hearing the handcuffs being pulled out of the holster. "Stay still, damn it!" Mason yelled out as he hoisted him up from the ground, opting to push him against the patrol car. But before having the chance to do so, the awful noise of a sharp thud against the car caused him to flinch, inadvertently releasing the man from his grip. The crowd erupted into panic as Mason turned to find his partner lying on the car roof, severely battered and bruised.
But he was still breathing.
James lay unconscious, his right arm twisted at a grotesque angle and his hand utterly crushed. Without a moment's hesitation, Mason sprinted over towards him, not caring about Matty's hasty escape and the growing crowd gathering around the car. As he tried to assess his partner's condition, deciding whether to move him, something on the roof above caught his eye. The sun was making it hard to see clearly, but it looked like someone in all-black attire, possibly wearing... a cloak? It soon vanished from view, leaving him bewildered. But his attention swiftly returned to James, who was starting to come to. Mason reached for his radio and urgently called dispatch for an ambulance and backup. Then he tried his damnest to comfort James. "Help is on the way. You're alive and breathing. Just stay with me, okay?" Mason asked, desperate to keep his partner conscious and for answers, "What happened to you?"
James' eyes snapped wide open as he fought to face his partner, tears cascading down his face as he vividly relived the horrifying ordeal. With great strength, he managed to choke out, "A bat attacked me."
I am almost done with my post for sure, with the weekend here now.
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