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."
Member
Half Pint,
AlteredTundra,
mickilennial,
AndyC,
Sep,
Roman,
Supermaxx,
mattmanganon,
Izurich,
Simple Unicycle
