"If it meant you wouldn't be anything more than a beat cop? Never moving up, no Detective, no Undercover, just the same three hundred square miles and a car. A partner who'll always advance past you?" He cuts you off. "Would you be willing to never get to the level where we could make real change?"

"Yes." You answer without hesitation. "You can make real change as a beat walker, I've seen it already."

"Yeah?"

"I saved a kid from going down a really dark road. He's still trying to be better but I think he's got it, I have faith in him. If the cost for that is to live the rest of my life in my apartment eating Mrs. Dover's leftovers then that's just how it'll be."

You see Banks stare you down now, his face a shifting series of emotions, as he opens the folder and stares reading through the guidelines of the C.I. Contract. You let him work through his thoughts while picking away at your breakfast, the passing memory of Free's death enough to tamp your appetite for now.

"Mark?"

"Yeah."

"I'll make a deal with you." He talks in a slow measured cadence.

"Go on?"

"If you really mean what you said, about staying on the beat. Then I'll talk at trial, I'll turn on Gorchakov publicly. But if I end up getting iced out, if my assignments dry up and I get locked down here, then I want you to stay with me."

"As partners?"

He nods.

"When you graduate to full blues it won't be long before Hawthorne is working admin or retired, you'll need someone to watch your back. We ride together and we help as many people as we can from the street. Not an office or with a unit, just helping people as we see them. Good cops."

"Good cops.." You echo.

"I get that it's a big ask, that's why I wanna give you an out." He digs in his pocket and sets delicately between you both a coin. "We can flip for it. I win then we work the beat together until we get sick of it or retire. You win and I'll talk anyways, but you'll be free to move up the ladder."

"You talk either way?"

"You were right. Those stripes and a job at City Hall wouldn't sit right with me if I got them by letting a shitbag murderer like Gorchakov dodge the chair. I wanna throw up thinking about it now even, his own partner.." His voice trails off and he slowly runs a fingertip along the edge of the coin. "You know me, I can't let that go and live with myself. Not after everything I gave up to be a cop, I can't spit on my own morals like that.."

"So a coin flip?"

"So a coin flip. Call it." He speaks as he snakes a thumbnail beneath the coin, his thumb flicks rapidly and the coin leaps into the air.

>"Heads."
>"Tails."
>"Save the coin toss, I agree. I won't leave you alone at the bottom because you did the right thing."
>"I refuse. I'm glad you changed your mind but this is something you need to really think on before you commit to it. I can talk to Penguin, maybe flip him on Gorchakov at least, then your testimony won't be so critical."
>Write-In

PREVIOUS THREADS: https://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=DetectQM

Cover Image: Fan-Art from the previous thread, done by an extremely talented Anon. Per usual if you want to plug any accounts or anything you post your art on then feel free to reply to this post. If you post any art and want to be credited if I use it for a cover then when you post just include a name and I'll credit you in the opening of the threads going forward.

Author notes and Question below:


Holy fuck, ten threads. Not only ten threads, we also recently passed One Year since Thread 1, I started GCBC as a way to keep my writing skills sharp between jobs writing for some game projects and I've had an amazing time. I've (mostly) stuck to my schedule and it feels good to deliver something consistently that you guys seem to enjoy.

I say it a lot but I'll repeat myself and say thank you for reading this far if you've stuck with me, seeing you guys interact with the story is a big mood boost for my days and every piece of art work I get really floors me and just makes my entire week, the fact anyone would enjoy something I made enough to put their own creative talents to use is just the greatest flattery. Basically this entire section is just to let you know how much I appreciate you guys and really enjoy the character you've sculpted with Mark and in general how much I enjoy getting to hear from all of you when it comes to what you like and dislike. Which leads me to this..

>Are there any moments from the Quest that stick out to you as particularly high quality?
>Alternatively, what's a moment from the Quest that you enjoyed that was more subtle or slow when compared to the more bombastic scenes with say, Firebug and the Sting?

I can say confidently that while it hasn't been an amazing year for me personally, it's been a good year regardless because I got to share something I am passionate about with you guys and in turn some of you have shared your own passion back with detailed write-in's, art pieces, or even just voting for Mark in that King of QST contest. You guys kick ass, here's to the rest of the story. Hopefully it won't take another year to wrap up. See you soon.

>>6118502
>>Write-In
"Edge.

Pa always said you have to walk the talk."

And hug banks after this.

>>6118502
>>"Save the coin toss, I agree. I won't leave you alone at the bottom because you did the right thing."

>>6118517
+1 to this

Cause it’s basically the same as >>6118534 but without challenging Banks as much. And it’s funny.

>>6118502
>>"Tails."

>>6118517
+1

>>6118511
>Are there any moments from the Quest that stick out to you as particularly high quality?
The chase scene with Firebug.

>Alternatively, what's a moment from the Quest that you enjoyed that was more subtle or slow when compared to the more bombastic scenes with say, Firebug and the Sting?
The ladybug scene, or the powwow at Mark's place with the Iranian basket-weaving allusions and JLU references.

Thanks for running, QM. This quest remains one of the greats.

>>6118517
+1

>>6118511
>high quality
Every single scene Firebug was in, all of them
>subtle/slow scenes
Other than our boy Q? I like Hawthorne and Gray's dynamic together. The Batman confrontation was also great

>>6118502
>"I refuse. I'm glad you changed your mind but this is something you need to really think on before you commit to it. I can talk to Penguin, maybe flip him on Gorchakov at least, then your testimony won't be so critical."
Oligatory cold asshole vote.
>>6118517
Don't really feel the hug, just like shake his hand or something.
>>6118511
It's not a "moment" but I liked the trail of clues. Assembling the schizo board was fun, even if it took Q and Grey to actually tell me what the big plot was. Well, it's not like I needed to know the motive to keep on the trail. Still gota go to the lab, figure out who's this "queen" is, try to get to the calc from there. Work, work.
Also the early traces of SIM and Calc were cool. The sim cards hidden in the car and shuffling documents with Grey. Good feeling of uncovering a mystery.

>>6118657
Fun Fact: The 'Iranian Carpet Weaver' thing is actually true. They were used to decipher shredded US documents.

>>6118920
Ah, yes, it was carpets! I mixed it up with the 4chan euphemism. Yeah, I believed it implicitly. it sounded legit.

>>6118517
+1

>>6118511
It's kinda an answer for both of the questions, but the general way that the city feels alive is what brings me back to read this. A lot of Batman stuff tends to get lost in the high level villain schemes, and doesn't have too much time to make Gotham feel like a real place that exists outside of Batman, the Robins, or the Rogues' Gallery. Gotham here feels like an actual city, one going through a bad time but still an actual city where people go about their lives.

>>6118502
>the coin flip
Oh fucj I just realized- if this goes south- banks could be Two Face

>>6118511
One of my favorite scenes is Hawthorne giving the “anchor or weight” speech- I always think of it during tough times

File: APromiseMade.jpg (29 KB, 736x414)

29 KB JPG

>>6118517
>>6118565
>>6118657
>>6118661
>>6118936

You watch the coin spin, it's copper surface ferrying the fluorescent bulbs above across it's two sides, it seems like time slows down. You can follow it's spinning faces perfectly, if you wanted to you could call it. You'd be right. You're certain of it. But instead you just watch as it reaches the apex of it's flight and begins to descend.

"Edge." You say simply.

Bank's eyes narrow in confusion and he freezes as the coin lands left of his hand. Clattering and settling finally, face side up. You glance down and tut your tongue in faux disappointment.

"Guess I'm sticking around with you then. Pops always said you gotta walk the talk."

Banks chuckles and slides the coin off the table and stares at it in his palm. A smile forming as he looks back up to you.

"You're something else, DeLucia."

"Just trying to be helpful. So we have a deal?"

"We do."

Banks offers his hand and you grasp it firmly. You both give each other a firm nod of respect and you withdraw.

"Now no offense or anything but I need to slam this down and get to the station."

"None taken, I'll come with you. May as well hand this into Reiner personally, we can go see Gordon together. It won't be long after that.."

"The warrant?"

"Official investigation, the whole nine yards. If you and Hawthorne did things clean then it should be easy."

"We did. Not much in the way of hard evidence besides my vision but that's what the official investigation is for, you're the one who pulled it all together. We have enough reasonable suspicion that he'll be taken off the force while IA works out what to do with him."

"Yeah.." He speaks, something clearly on his mind.

"I'm almost done so if you wanna bring something up you should do it."

"I just.. Gorchakov is a coward."

"No arguments here."

"When we bring in cowards what's the first thing they do?"

"They flip." You pick up on his train of thought.

"Gorchakov wouldn't hesitate a second to sell out Mandragora or Cobblepot, or anyone else if it would save his skin. Even if it would piss them off and put a target on his back he'd take a chance of death over jail with no chance of escape. He's slimy like that.."

You keep your face still but that sparks something in your mind. If he'd flip on anyone and he was close enough to Cobblepot to share a card game.. what could he know about Calc?

"I'm trying to tell you how this is gonna play out, Mark. He's going to offer up intel, connections, whatever he has to in order to get what he wants."

"Immunity.."

"That's what I'm thinking, once you get to know him he isn't that hard of a guy to figure out. He's a vulture with a badge." Banks grumbles and shakes his head.

"Alright, I can see that but why bring it up to me?"

"You're the one bringing this case to the brass, even if you're a rookie this is something Gordon put you on. Your word probably has more sway than you think.."

"Alright? And what am I swaying?"

"You'll be in the room with the DA, Gordon, and Reiner. You can tell them to deny his request."

"And what if he withholds the info UNLESS we give him immunity?"

"Then we make do without it.. the GCPD doesn't need anything more to dump on Mandragora and Penguin anyways. We'd add an extra 80 years on their already heavy sentences for what?"

"For the family's they've destroyed. For their victims to get justice."

"We buy justice for one family at expense of another? What about Free's family? Or the families of whoever else he's had a hand in killing?"

You stay silent and toss the final bite of your breakfast onto the plate with a greasy flop, your appetite long since evaporated.

"I know it's a lot to ask you two things like this, but if he asks for immunity, you'll fight against it right?"

>"I will. Mandragora and Cobblepot will pay for what they've done, without letting Gorchakov walk free."
>"I can't promise you anything, if his information is big enough then we have an obligation to get justice for the many over the few. Even if the perp is someone slimy as him."
>"If he tries to flip on Mandragora and Cobblepot, I will fight against it. But if he knows about anything bigger, I may just have to let it go."
>"I haven't been entirely up-front with you, Banks. I don't think Gorchakov is JUST a mole for Mandragora's mob. He's a part of something much bigger.." (Give him the full conspiracy breakdown.)
>Write-In

>>6119019
>"I haven't been entirely up-front with you, Banks. I don't think Gorchakov is JUST a mole for Mandragora's mob. He's a part of something much bigger.." (Give him the full conspiracy breakdown.)

The plan is simple, then. We get him to talk, give him immunity, then give Huntress his home address. Then the last thing this fucker ever hears is *fwip!*.

>>6119044
I'm not american so I don't know much about the law there, but I have an idea

We could get Gor to sit on a table, and the moment he asks for immunity we fuck him over. Reiner comes from Capitol City or something like that, right? I can't remember, but I say we could offer Gor the deal of "You get as many years you deserve in jail, but half will be here in Gotham with no short sentence for good conduct and the other half in Capitol City with the whole good conduct deal. Here in Gotham you're nothing more than a corrupt cop that doesn't deserve to see the light of day again, but maybe you can convince other people over there. If you survive at least."

The carrot and the stick method, surely Black Mask or any other mobster on jail is going to be happy with hiring Gor for some dirt on Penguin and other people he worked with, get some immunity on jail and get a chance to get out once he's transfered. BUT, we could use this method if he has something on Calc, we stay adamant on him getting full sentence with what he already did with being a mole, but after it we tell him what I wrote earlier so he's more inclined on actually talking on what's going on behind the scenes of all this

>>6118511
Also damn, a full year already on this quest! Thanks for everything Qm, I really love this quest

>1st question
For me it was the first dream scene with the Lady in Red, and how it was described like as if the whole building was like the city above and below, it was a cool idea that reminded me of Inception or whatever that movie was called, the one with Leonardo DiCaprio and his dead wife that lives on his dreams (DeLucia bad ending???)

>2nd question
The time Mark went to see his parents, I just really liked the whole contrast between the crazy cop stuff that Mark is doing (that for sure any other recruit would never be doing in any normal circumstances) and how their retired parents live their lives in that small and nice community. Hope we get to visit them, and also maybe get on another date with the firefighter, maybe something nice in daytime, maybe that would also bring some of that more normal and lay down time for Mark to calm down with all he's doing.

>>6119019
>"I will. Mandragora and Cobblepot will pay for what they've done, without letting Gorchakov walk free."

>>6119019
>"If he tries to flip on Mandragora and Cobblepot, I will fight against it. But if he knows about anything bigger, I may just have to let it go."
I say we let banks know we have suspicions, but that we're playing it close to the chest and will loop him in as soon as we can. Nothing personal, but we're early stages yet and we don't want anyone getting hopes up or chasing shadows... Besides us, heh.

A slight variation:

>"If he tries to flip on Mandragora and Cobblepot, I will fight against it. But if he knows about anything bigger than them that will seriously entice the DA, Gordon, and Reiner, I may have to focus my efforts on getting him to reveal absolutely every card he managed to get ahold of. And even if he tries that, I will make certain that it won't be total immunity."

Basically telling Banks we'll fight immunity as long as we can, but if it's looking like we're losing that front, then we'll focus on making sure the deal isn't made for anything less than can be squeezed out of him. And at the absolute minimum, we refuse to let Gorcachov keep his job or even work in security/with police if he tries to do that.

>>6119262
Good phrasing and framing, anon.

>>6119019
I'm >>6119233, and I'll back that write-in.

>>6119262
+1

>>6119262
>>6119322
>>6119334

"If he tries to flip on Mandragora and Cobblepot, I will fight against it." You begin.

"Thanks, Mark. I know it isn-"

"But." You continue. "If he knows about anything bigger than them that seriously entices the DA, Gordon, and Reiner, I may have to focus my efforts on getting him to reveal absolutely every card he's managed to get a hold of. And even if he tries that, I will make certain that it won't be total immunity."

Banks looks down and tilts his head.

"I guess that's the best I can ask for. I appreciate it."

"Of course." You say wiping grease from your mouth with a napkin. "But we'll see when the cuffs are on him. I've gotta get in."

You stand pulling your cup up to your lips and gulping the last of the warm rich coffee, you reach for your pocket but Banks holds out a hand.

"Let me, go ahead and get on the road. I don't want Reiner blowing a gasket." He speaks as he pulls limp bills from his wallet and tosses it on the tabletop. You give him an appreciative nod and turn to jog out the door.

====

The bullpen is lively, junior officers ferry papers and draw long barriers of phone wire as they walk and talk between desks. You even see Bunko hunkered down at his desk, his usual breakfast sitting untouched, he mutters under his breath as he mashes his backspace.

"What's up, Bunko?" You ask, peeking at his screen. A long email topped with the GCPD header sits unfinished.

"Sending an email to some journalist trash reaching out for a comment on the murder that went down last night. Crazy broad wants photos."

"Jesus, it was that bad?"

"It was just.. a pile a' parts. Wasn't even that much blood, Detective Bennet said they were probably brought from another location and just dumped there."

"Yeah?" You feign. "He's a smart guy, he'll figure this out."

"I hope he does, this is the most time I've spent in my desk since I had surgery for my sciatica, maybe you can put in a good word for me with the Commander. I hear you're close." He chuckles with a jokesters grin.

"Yeah well don't work too hard. You could end up like me running down cold cases."

"Dream come true for a guy like you, I bet." He jokes as he turns back to his monitor.

You laugh and step away. Scanning the bullpen you see Hawthorne standing in the open doorway with Reiner looking over a stack of papers. As officers jog by Hawthorne holds a hand out and passes them a page from the bottom before returning to his conversation with Reiner. You can see the hall leading to the old War Room and see it repurposed with Grey standing at a board, pointing out several things to a few other officers and some fellow detectives. The laminated picture in the center reveals the topic.

The Old Pawn Shop. The site of SIMs first killing as a free man. You feel your skin go cold and tight as you shake off a breeze that never was. You rub your neck to soothe your standing hairs and sigh.

Between these two you decide...

>To approach Reiner and Hawthorne, you should pitch your request to start the formal investigation before Banks arrives, take one trouble off your mind.
>Check out Grey's briefing, your twisted gut doesn't subdue your morbid curiosity. You need to know what happened, what you may have contributed to.
>Go get dressed and try and stay out of the way, it won't be long before someone comes to find you and honestly you could use a moment alone to straighten yourself out.
>Write-In

>>6119554
>Check out Grey's briefing, your twisted gut doesn't subdue your morbid curiosity. You need to know what happened, what you may have contributed to.

We don’t have shit without Banks. May as well wait till he gets in.

>>6119554
>>To approach Reiner and Hawthorne, you should pitch your request to start the formal investigation before Banks arrives, take one trouble off your mind.

>>6119554
>Check out Grey's briefing, your twisted gut doesn't subdue your morbid curiosity. You need to know what happened, what you may have contributed to.

>>6119554
>Check out Grey's briefing, your twisted gut doesn't subdue your morbid curiosity. You need to know what happened, what you may have contributed to.

>>6119571
>>6119594
>>6119827

You don't let your sour gut dissuade you. The investigation into SIM is what unfurled this whole mess with Mandragora and Calc, this case is your baby and you feel a sense of responsibility and a longing to know what your pet project has gotten up to.

You approach the room and open the door quietly, Grey's eyes flicker to you but he breaks away quickly to continue his briefing.

"The information received was sourced from confidential informants associated with the Mandragora Crime Syndicate, our information is telling us the perp is likely the same individual who we've dubbed: 'The SIM Killer' on account of his habit of snagging SIM cards from his victims phones, as you can see from your dossier, that's a pattern that tracks here. Each of the victims still had their identification, cash, valuables, and other personal effects on them. The only thing touched were the phones."

A junior officer raises a hand and interjects.

"Have you come up with any physical information on the suspect yet?"

"White male, Blonde Hair, Average weight and height, we also know he's left handed. Has to be someone physically fit, chopping up that many bodies takes time, especially considering.." He eyes you again and trails off. "He may also have hand injuries, no prints we recovered from any of the scenes were able to be ran through our database. Too mangled. It's likely he burnt em off at some point, which means he may be in a position that requires fingerprints to be stored. Think private security, former military, that kind of thing."

"And are we cleared to know who the C.I. is?"

Grey grabs a mug and sips, smacking his lips once before answering with a plain. "No. But I can tell you that based on our information it seems like SIM is a former Button Man for Mandragora who seemed to have gotten a taste for killing, with his boss locked up it looks like he's gone off script. Any other questions?"

The junior officer pauses but asks another question, a quiet question with a tone that pulls everyone around him into hushed silence to hear the answer.

"Was it really as bad as they're saying?"

His eyes flicker to you again and in them you see a shard of something.. some emotion that smells like stale cigarette smoke and cheap hot dogs. You resist the urge to sneeze as his eyes drift from yours and meet with the young officer.

"When'd you get out of rookie blues, Officer...?"

"My name is Gotti, I became a full Officer earlier this year, sir.." He answers embarrassed.

A few snickers permeat the room and someone playfully pats his shoulder, but Grey holds up a hand.

"None of that. Officer Gotti, I'll give it to you straight. Everything you've heard about the scene is true."

"Oh.." Gotti replies, almost automatically. A reaction spoken from his bones.

"We aren't positive the number of victims yet, but we're sitting at four. Each one segmented at every joint and connection."

Grey pauses a moment before looking to the board and gesturing.

"The lack of blood pooling at the scene and the state of rigor leads me to believe that it wasn't only the killing that was conducted off-site."

"You mean.. the.." The young Officer stutters trying to put his thoughts to speech.

"The butchering happened elsewhere as well, I'm not even sure at the site of the murder. I met with the M.E. personally and was shown some scrapings on the bone as well as a few shallow nicks, the process was long and meticulous and most likely performed with a small blade. We're thinking some sort of commercially available kitchen knife, if not that then a custom blade not any larger than your average chef's knife. The remains were dumped in that basement without ceremony, all joints and connective bone at the edges exposed and clean, and of course the wall."

"He left a message didn't he?"

Grey leans down to the table and holds up a blown up laminated photo. A familiar dingy wall with an unfamiliar scrawl across it in thick letters.

'FREE'

"You'll probably come to this conclusion yourselves but we believe this coincides with the threat Commissioner Gordon received today. Now th-"

"The commissioner was threatened?" You ask out of shock, a few heads crane towards you.

"Officer DeLucia, please raise your hand if you intend to ask me to clarify something. Gives me a moment to break off somewhere other than mid-word." He speaks with a level of professionalism you've never even heard him approach with Hawthorne.

"Sorry, sir."

He waves it away.

"It's fine. Yes, this morning Commissioner Gordon received a threatening letter that was signed by SIM. Sergeant Hawthorne is in charge of handing them out.." He trails as he leans around you to see through the glass. "If you'd like to know more you can get a copy from him but otherwise I'd like to proceed with the briefing." His eyes are pointed and the message clear. This is something worth seeing.

"Sorry, sir. I'll do that.

He clears his throat once and proceeds.

"Now, the contents of the letter aren't PERSONALLY threatening to the Commissioner but based on the.." His words fade to muffles as the War Room doors create a seal.

Hawthorne and Reiner moved, once by his office now they stand next to Kimble's desk. Reiner leans over him moving a finger over his computer screen and tapping. You approach and catch the tail end.

"..ers. He can't do that if he's breathing through a tube. I understand your position but you'll rein it in. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Kimble answers, firmly but without anger.

They turn and make eye contact with you.

"Just the rookie we were waiting to see." Kimble says with a wide smile.

"Oh?" You reply.

"I spoke with Banks a few moments ago, had him taken with an escort to city hall." Reiner says.

"To see Gordon?" You cautiously guess.

"Yes." He says, his voice still stoic and unrevealing. But you can feel a prideful warmth underneath. "And due to what they will be discussing I'm expecting a warrant to be issued sometime later in the day. I was filling Kimble in on the situation because I want him to carry it out."

"Is that not a job for IA?"

"I've talked at lengths with Gordon and agreed that if the situation called for it we would take a more.. forceful approach."

"Basically if we called him into IA's offices for a chat the odds are he'd bolt like the little rat he is." Hawthorne grumbles. "Better to send a trap on legs. Kimble has a good track record executing pick ups, plus he has some rapport with the guy."

You glance to Kimble and he shrugs.
"We play in the same Rec League, he helped me try to pull that Day One on you with Banks in the clown get-up.." He sniffs and sucks his teeth. "Feels pretty shitty knowing he was using that as another way to make Banks think he had a shot at UC."

Reiner looks to you and gestures to the screen.

"Kimble has been putting together a list of a few known locations where we might be able to find him when the time comes."

"He's off today?"

"Sick-day." Reiner says. "Maybe he smells something on the wind, we jut hope he hasn't spooked enough to skip town on us yet. We'll have a tap on his financials once the warrant comes and we'll check for any airline or bus tickets, but until we get the information it'll be your legwork that finds him."

"MY legwork?"

"Kimble insists on having someone to watch his back. Grey is catching the rest of our Detectives up on the SIM case and I need Hawthorne's assistance dealing with this letter we received. You're the only one left who has any idea this investigation has even been ongoing. It was a natural decision."

"Aren't I only supposed to be working.. with.." Your voice wilts away under Reiner's sharp stare and raised brow. You clear your throat. "Thank you, sir."

"Well now that he's caught up, I actually want to hit the road." Kimble pipes up, hopping from his chair. "Better to start the search early, lock him down, and then keep a tail on him until the call comes in."

You open your mouth to interject but get cut off.

"No objections here, you're clear to locate and monitor, no direct contact until explicitly told otherwise."

"Wait. I wanted a copy of the letter? The one we received this morning?"

"Ah." Hawthorne grunts. Handing you a paper. "Read it on the drive."

"Thank you, sir."

He grunts again, his eyes tired and dark. Not much sleep last night, if he slept at all even.

"Alright, we should get out there early. No need to change either, the uniform would just make us stick out more." Kimble tells you as Hawthorne and Reiner begin moving back to the center office. "I'm printing a list here of the places I think that scumfuck might be hanging out on his day off. Any of these strike your fancy?"

You take the sheet, still warm from the machine, and glance over it.

>Dollie's - A strip club just outside the Narrows near the old Firework Factory. His former #1 spot until he started moving up in pay-grade.
>The Tobacconist's Lounge - Come for the Grand Re-Opening! The only place that sells his favorite brand of cigarette.
>The Berkley - A 'classier' gentleman's club and alleged host for underground card games.
>Hotel Gotham - He had some sort of plan concerning Huntress, or at least her civilian self, maybe he's still skulking around?
>Blue Brass - Jimmy's place, most cops with a day off and nothing to do spend it here.
>Blades Arena - Home to the Gotham Blades, Gorchakov is a big hockey fan and they have open practices today. Maybe he's sitting in?
>Write-In

Rolled 6 (1d6)

>>6120080
I'll leave the choice to better autists and deductionists than I am. I for one will leave it to chance. ROLLING
>1 Dollie's
>2 Lounge
>3 Berkley
>4 Hotel
>5 Brass
>6 Arena

>>6120080
We gotta bullshit with our powers with this

>Before going out ask for Kimble to print photos of all those places
>See if we can get some private place
>Try to focus on Gorchakov, and see if we can sense with the photos in which place he's more than likely to be, or where he is actually in.
>Ask Kimble to watch us and keep an eye if we fall into a trance and take us out if we take a lot of time

Let's limit test, what do you guys think? We can either develop a true to god GPS to locate people with our mind, or if we concentrate on someone and some place we might find some emotional or mental connection between those two. Either way, we end up with some lead of where Gorchakov is, or he's more likely to be.

>>6120215
Solid, but I think we'd need something of Gorchakov too? I feel like tripping balls using the photos of locations (probably digital ones, I doubt anyone prepared printed out photos of building facades for us) will just get us the vibes of the location, not the headcount of everyone in there.

What we need is something of his, that he usually carries with him. If there's anything in the station go zone out using that. If not, then fuck me, I guess we're gonna be guessing.
Another point to maybe consider is that he could be wary of SIM himself. He worked with mandragora, he migth have caught a whiff of Angelo's death.

>>6120080
>Go look for Gorchakov's posessions in the station, use shivers.
>If there is nothing, then I guess Hotel Gotham. He *might* think Angelo's death is Huntress' doing(If he's very out of the loop somehow)? Probably not, I'm picking a location mostly at random.

I don't know if I'm missing some detail about Gorchakov that would make it obvious where it is. I pobably am. I don't think you're meant to just guess this vote.

There aren't many votes and not much of a consensus so I'm gonna leave this vote open and I'll probably touch back on it after a vote or two comes in. An Update sometime this weekend as well.

>>6120080
>Hotel Gotham - He had some sort of plan concerning Huntress, or at least her civilian self, maybe he's still skulking around?
Just instinct.

>>6120080
>>The Berkley - A 'classier' gentleman's club and alleged host for underground card games.

He strikes me as the kind of person to go to a place that makes them seem more important in the trashiest ways.

>>6120215
+1

I (mercifully) have no idea what degenerates do in their free time. We need to do some scouting first.

>>6120080
>>The Tobacconist's Lounge - Come for the Grand Re-Opening! The only place that sells his favorite brand of cigarette.

>>6120080
>>The Tobacconist's Lounge - Come for the Grand Re-Opening! The only place that sells his favorite brand of cigarette.

smokers like any other addict need their fix eventually

>>6120080
>Dollies
Also, I have a theory about the identity of SIM. Have we heard anything about Victor Zazz in this universe? The tally marks and the description of the person being tall and blond makes my think it's him

>>6120818
>>6121476
>>6120678
>>6120245
>>6120215

"If I had to pick, the Lounge. Smoker's are like any other addict he's gonna need his fix eventually." You point to a blurb next to the location. "Silk Cut? That's a brand right?"

Kimble nods.
"Yeah, surprised you know that. Used to be all over the place back in the day but now that's the only place that stocks em, otherwise you gotta ship em in from overseas."

"Overseas?"

"England." He says as he leans down and opens a drawer to his desk.

"Why do YOU know so much about these?"

He withdraws his arm and palms a once bold white package, now crinkled and dull, he lobs to pack to you and you let it bounce off your chest and into your open palms.

"He cornered me at Blue Brass after Banks flubbed his role as Joker Ganger, gave me the entire history lesson and insisted I smoke a few. Pushy fucker. I told him no but when I came in the next morning there was a fresh pack on my desk."

You tilt the box and pear at the crumpled and peeled top.

"This is open."

"They taste like piss." He remarks, standing and gathering his few belongings.

"How do yo-"

"I think I've got everything I'll need. You need to grab anything or should we head out?"

"Head out?"

"To the lounge."

"We don't have any evidence he's even there, we could waste our time."

Kimble shrugs.

"That's police work, you're the outlier with how busy you've been. Most of the time it's the same old story of 'Hurry up and wait' unless you're a specialist or SWAT. Besides when the warrant drops it'll come with a BOLO. We'll find him."

"But if we find him early and tail him then we could get more evidence, add to the case."

"You're a vicious little over achiever, DeLucia. Anyone ever tell you that?" Kimble groans and collapses back into his desk chair. "But I'm not opposed to piling a little extra dirt on this specific grave, so fuck it. Work your detective magic that Grey mentioned."

"Well, I uh.. don't have anything physical to base an answer but I could use my Shivers. Get something of his and use that to track him."

"You have the cigarettes in your hand, why not use those?"

"I mean. I guess I could but he just gave these to you, he didn't even smoke any."

"It's his brand, doesn't that create like a spiritual.. link or... become part of his 'aura' or whatever?"

You pause a moment and furrow your brow.

"You think my Shivers work off auras? You think which brand of SMOKES you buy would be part of your spirit?"

He holds up his hands in faux surrender.
"Don't bite my head off, D. You want something of his you can check out his desk, hasn't been picked up by anyone yet and he didn't clean it all the way out before he moved up to the Detective's Club."

He hops from his chair and gestures for you to follow, walking to the farthest corner of the bullpen."

"All the way back here?"

"Reiner hated 'em. Plus he was mainly working with UC or sucking up to the detectives so it's not like he spent a lot of time here anyways."

As Kimble speaks you open drawers and poke around. Mostly filled with old discarded packs of Silk Cut, receipts for fast food, and more than one half chewed toothpick. You push one aside with a pen and frown.

"Nasty bastard." Kimble mutters over your shoulder.

You move to the other side and open a drawer, this time seeing somethings of a little more interest. An old book, dogeared, yellow at the edges, and with a spine well bent from reading leans against the side of the drawer.

"The Prince?" Kimble scoffs.

"He probably saw himself as the Machiavellian type." You say as you flit through the pages. A few areas are actually underlined with thin pen, sometimes highlighted in a faded yellow.

'The lion cannot protect himself from traps, and the fox cannot defend himself from wolves. One must therefore be a fox to recognize traps, and a lion to frighten wolves.'

'He who wishes to be obeyed must know how to command'

"Oh brother." You mumble to yourself, slapping the book on the desk top as you retrieve the other item that caught your eye; a lonely coin. Old and rusted you pull it from the base and hold it up to the light.

"A coin? What is that, foreign?"

You fingernails scrape at the grime and dirt stuck to it, slowly you manage to see the imprint. A sprinting rabbit. Your eyebrows go up and memories come flooding back.

"No.. it's not foreign. It's not even a coin, not really." You hand the coin up to Kimble so he can inspect it. "This is a token from the old arcade on Amusement Mile, before they shut it down."

"No shit? I've never been, I left after the Mile bit the dust and wasn't back until it had opened up and closed right back down again."

"My parents took me there, when I was young. It was actually where my Shivers got the better of me for the first time."

Kimble looks at you silently. You shake your head.

"It's a long story, but the arcade was on the same stretch as Haley's Circus, when they tent shut down so did the arcade and then.. dominoes." You pause and take a moment to push back the memory, the screaming burning pain in your head and deep in your ears that night. "This coin is nearly twenty years old at this point, he had to keep it for a reason."

"Sure, that or he got it randomly and left it in his desk because it's an old piece of rusting trash." Kimble counters, flicking the coin back to you. "If anything the fact he left it behind proves he didn't really care that much about it. Anything else?"

"Nothing in the desk."

"May as well try with what we've got then." He says, taking a step back he gestures to the desk and crosses his arms.

"Sure.." You mumble, you take a look at everything here and decide to focus your shivers on..

>The Coin, it can't just be coincidence. Something like this has a story behind it, one you may be able to tap into.
>The Book, it might be pretentious but if he's tied a lot of his personality and his views to this book then maybe that could lead you to him?"
>The old packs of Silk Cut, the fresh pack from Kimble's desk may not lead to anything but he smoked these. Physically touched them, inhaled them, made them part of him.
>The 'fresh' pack of Silk Cut, he did get them specifically for Kimble and leave them behind. Maybe there's some deeper connection here you aren't seeing, maybe Kimble's aura nonsense is right.
>Write-In



I'll lock in a vote when I see a decent majority break out or I'm about to get to bed. Then I'll call for the d100 roll after we've decided on an option. See you soon.

>>6122851
>The Coin
The Prince? Many high-aspiring baddies read it and stand by it
Silk Cut? There's gotta be other people who smoke that shit
Now this coin? No, this one's the real deal

>>6122851
>The Coin, it can't just be coincidence. Something like this has a story behind it, one you may be able to tap into.

>>6122851
>The Coin
Every douchey business asshole reads either “The Prince” or “The Art of War”, or at least buys them to keep on their coffee table.
And I’m saying this as I have a copy of The Book of Five Rings about an arm’s length away that I still need to start on.

>>6122851
Regardless of what place we investigate- I vote we disassemble the smoke pack that we were handed (not the drawer ones) incase someone had it bugged/tracker hidden inside of it

>>6122851
>The Coin, it can't just be coincidence. Something like this has a story behind it, one you may be able to tap into.

>>6122958
What hanging out with Q does to a person

>>6122851
>>The Book, it might be pretentious but if he's tied a lot of his personality and his views to this book then maybe that could lead you to him?"

>>6122997
Kek

>>6122997
It’s worth a try to look inside the smokes. That and Q was correct when it came to the bug Batman put on our apartment

Further- it seems the coin is going to win, so we might as well disassemble the smokes.

>>6122868
>>6122913
>>6122937
>>6122978

The coin it is.

1d100 (Bo3)

Rolled 30 (1d100)

>>6123202
You want the best, I'll give you the worst.

Rolled 44 (1d100)

>>6123202
Please have mercy RNGesus

Rolled 42 (1d100)

>>6123202

File: Screenshot 2024-08-21 231621.png (594 KB, 687x710)

594 KB PNG

>>6123215
>>6123230
>>6123233
Nope, no mercy here.

>>6123215
>>6123230
>>6123233


The lord has no mercy but the individual DC's for each item do.

THE COIN.

Roll: 44
DC: 35 (For Coin)
Result: PASS.

Writing.

File: AmusementMileToken.jpg (80 KB, 564x564)

80 KB JPG

You close your eyes and focus. You take measured breaths, the sound of flowing air raising in volume until it's the only thing you can hear. The chaos of the bullpen falls away and you run a thumb gently over the corroded and rough metal. You smell seawater and funnel cake between the earthy smoke of a cigarette. You open your eyes and find yourself staring ahead at a big top tent.

"Should you be smoking that now?" A voice beside you crows.

You shift your eyes over and raise a brow.

"Why? They gonna report me for being unprofessional?" You reply in a voice not your own. You flick ash in the direction of the coroner's van as they load up two bodies delicately hidden under white sheets.

"Fucked up." You remark, taking another bitter drag. "Heard their kid saw the whole thing."

"Really? Jesus.." The other officer remarks. His nametag reading: Young.

"Get used to it, rookie. Bad shit's gonna happen in Gotham, it's like the tide."

"Bu-"

"Zip it, when your TO speaks. Listen."

"Yes, sir." he answer dejectedly.

"Good boy." You reply, taking the cigarette from your mouth to shout. "You wrapped up over there, fellas?"

The coroner's van honks twice and you laugh giving them a wave off. You flick your cigarette to the ground and snuff it with the tow of your shoe, as you look down you notice something.

"Well well." You lean down and pull a small token from the wet sludge of mud and grime. "Lucky coin, Whaddya say Young. Let's hit some skee-ball."

"We should probably get back to start on the report.."

"Ah, you'll have plenty of time for that once we're off the clock." As you speak you lean over and wipe the filth from it off on Young's shirt, his face contorts in disgust but he doesn't say anything. You suppress a chuckle, he's gonna be a good one. "Right now I have an errand I wanna run."

"Yes, sir." He replies again.

"They always told me you were a quick learner. Glad they were right."

You watch as his eyes cast downward, you're losing him. You toss out a hook.

"Young, hey. I'm sorry about the schmutz on your shirt, that was a lame joke. Who don't we start over, huh? Tabula Rasta." You put a hand on his shoulder and fish out a set of keys. "How about YOU drive the shop? Get a feel for it, for when you're driving your own some day?"

He eyes the keys and then looks back to you. You nod and present them.

"Tabula Rasta." You repeat. You see him suppress a smile, the corners of his mouth only giving off the smallest clue. He must be over the moon.

Young grabs the keys and he nods.
"Where to, sir?"

"The Yacht Club, I've got a friend coming in today and I promised I'd come check out his ship. Shouldn't take more than 15, then it's back to the station for that paperwork. How's that sound?"

You blink.

=====

The interior of the shop is... stuffy and humid. A Gotham summer if you've ever seen one. You watch your hand stretch out the open window and angle the side mirror. Reflected back is.. you? No. Gorchakov. Younger with a mean glint in your eye and peppering of stubble all over. The road ahead is dark and foggy, but you know this spot, you've been before.

The shop comes to a slow stop outside a tall metal arch with golden letters topping it.

GYC

You take a breath and hold it. An old trick for dealing with jitters. Your gut rumbles and your sweat feels frozen on your brow, but you keep it together and straighten yourself up the best you can.

"Alright, I'll be right back. Don't go too far, but feel free to take her around the block, y'know? Get as much practice as you can before you move up."

Young looks apprehensive, the entire drive you could see it. His posture was all wrong, sitting stiff and locked up he looked like you. You make a mental note to loosen up a bit before hitting the dock.

"If you got something to say, rookie. Spit it out."

"I was just curious who your friend is, sir. It's pretty late and I've never really heard of a yacht coming in at night. He must be a pretty rich guy to come here though.."

You resist the urge to bash this kid's nose on the steering wheel. You can hear it in his voice, he's fishing. Some kind of prick to think he can fool you into talking. You fake an embarrassed expression and rub your neck.

"Well... to be perfectly honest with you, kid. It ain't a 'he' if you get my meaning."

He blinks out of confusion.

"Sir?"

"I'm meeting a broad, a real high society type, he name is uh.. Mandy. Her daddy owns a few stores in the ritzy parts of town. I worked that diamond thing last June, you hear about that in the academy?"

"I don't thi-"

"Well it was a real ball buster of a case, anyways spent a lot of time talking to his daughter and what can I say? Things clicked." You rush to cut him off before he can reply. "I know, I know. I shouldn't be doing this on the clock but I mean it's so close to shift end and if I can woo her.. let's just say it's a lot of woman."

"You're getting involved with a vic?"

"Oh don't get the by-laws out on me, junior. It's been a year nearly, there's no conflict. Besides think about it like this.. when I'm sipping mimosa's in Gotham Heights you'll be stepping out of pull-ups and into some real cop pants. Do me this solid and you can consider my letter of recommendation for Undercover, Narcotics, or Gangland signed sealed and delivered.

That's it. That's when you see it, the ambition in every rookie, he's hungry for glory and you're offering it on a platter. Gourmet. He just has to take the bite...

Young drums his fingers on the wheel and eventually makes eye contact with you.

"How about SWAT?"

"Hey-o! I knew you wouldn't let me down you beautiful bastard!" You laugh and rustle his hair, giving him playful punches before pulling back and lifting your hands. "Oh I'm sorry, I mean you beautiful killer. Leave it to me, kid. This time next year you'll be toting something automatic and biting the pin on tear gas grenades. Rambo style!" You laugh heartily as you open the door and step out. "Swing back around in twenty or so, when we get back you work on that paperwork and I'll get to writing a letter for Captain Hoover."

"You mean Captain Howard?" He asks.

"That's what I said." You say over your shoulder as you close the door. Breathing a sigh of relief you watch the shop pull away, putting a hand in your pocket you feel that coin. Still cold from the muck.

"If you're really a lucky coin then help me out.." You whisper before turning and facing the arch to the Yacht Club.

With one last breath and a quick shake off to get loose. You inhale through the nose and exhale through the mouth. Showtime.

Then you blink.

====

You open your eyes to Kimble uncomfortably close to your face, his own expression one of deep analysis, when he sees you focus on him he takes a step back.

"You here?" He asks cautiously.

"Uh-huh." You say, blinking a few more times to work some moisture back into your eyes.

"Find anything out?"

"Maybe? The coin was from Amusement Mile, but it was right before he went to the Gotham Yacht Club."

"The yacht club? What's that clown doing there, we'd be lucky if we could afford a pair of floaties."

"Meeting someone, a woman he said. But he was lying, I could.. feel it. Even if I couldn't though he wasn't exactly subtle. Said her name was Mandy."

Kimble scoffs.
"How has this fucker gotten away with it for all these years?"

"I don't know, but he won't for much longer."

"What's the call then? The Yacht Club doesn't sound like a place he'd hang out in his spare time. But it could have a little something extra we could dump on him or the white whale."

>"Call me Ahab, let's go see what Mandragora is keeping on that boat."
>"It would be a waste, we've already wasted enough time on my vision. We should hit the street, cruise his favorite spots in a line."
>"No, the car reeked of those Silk Cuts. He must go through a couple packs a week, let's go to the Lounge."
>Write-In


Apologies, started writing and then got called away for an emergency that thankfully wrapped itself up pretty quick. I still have you dissecting those cigs in the back of my mind don't worry.

As always, would love to hear what you think about this vision especially since it's the first time you're really getting much Gorchakov screentime aside from the few times he tried talking to Mark. What do you think about him?

>>6123489
>"Call me Ahab, let's go see what Mandragora is keeping on that boat."

>>6123489
>"Call me Ahab, let's go see what Mandragora is keeping on that boat."
Gorski's been rotten from the start. Certainly talks to confuse people. Has a lot of fishing or sea analogies too in the way he operates

>>6123481
>"Fucked up." You remark, taking another bitter drag. "Heard their kid saw the whole thing."
Oh, hey, the death of The Flying Graysons?

>>6123489
>"Call me Ahab, let's go see what Mandragora is keeping on that boat."

As for Gorchakov, he's a pretty well-written sleaze with delusions of grandeur.

>>6123503
>>6123517
>>6123566

"Call me Ahab, let's go see what Mandragora is keeping on that boat."

"Hm, alright. Beats staring at Gorchakov for a couple hours until I get to stuff his face into the pavement." Kimble jerks his head and steps away, you follow closely behind.

You make your way through the flood of officers running various tasks, you haven't seen the pen this busy since the sting was about to go off, slowly the crowd starts to thin as you both reach the motor bay and push through the double doors. The familiar dim lighting and quiet was a welcome change from the chaos in the pen.

"Yo, Mendez!" Kimble calls into the echoing concrete room.

She looks up from her desk, an old magazine lazily held in one hand and a mug in the other, narrowing her eyes she answers.

"Luke."

"Crazy morning everyone out there working like they're on fire, if you only saw the motor pool though.. you'd never know."

"That's because I run a tight ship." She replies with a pointed sip.

"Oh so Reiner doesn't? That's what you're saying."

"Did you come in here just to piss me off and ruin my morning?" She asks letting the mug thud to the table.

"Depends, is it workin?"

The two of them stare at each other a few moments, Kimble with a dumb grin and Mendez with a familiar flare in her eyes. They stay like that a few seconds before you clear your throat awkwardly.

"Hi, DeLucia." She remarks without looking. "What brings you and 2nd Lieutenant Meathead by?"

"That's not necessary." Kimble mumbles, his smile growing. "I need my favorite."

"Long shift?"

"Could be all day, well into the night. I need it." He puts an intense emphasis on the final word and Mendez nods grimly.

"Grab the keys, you know where they are." She says as she kneels and digs beneath her desk.

"Mark, could you? Bottom left, magic 8-ball."

"These look a little old." You remark, turning over the scuffed and dulled plastic of the ping-pong sized 8 Ball.

"They should, they're for an 86' Continental."

"What? Out of everything why that?"

"It blends in."

"If you're a pimp, maybe." You joke.

"C'mon. You see a relic like that on the side of the road in Gotham are you even gonna think twice? Too old to boost, new enough to have half decent AC."

Your reply is cut off by the heavy thud of a black duffle. Kimble grabs the zipper and pulls it a small amount before glancing in and nodding.

"Nice." He pulls his wallet and slides out a few bills. "Re-up when I get back?"

"Mhm." She hums as she plucks the bills from his hand and counts them. "You need the binder?"

"Of course."

You watch in an honestly stupefied state as yet another item is produced from beneath the desk. A large black square with a zipper. Kimble unveils the bounty within.

CD's.

>>6123979
>"They should, they're for an 86' Continental."

mfw i just watched the Grand Tour special where clarkson brought that into scotland.

"What're you taking this time?"

"Mark me down for.. 36 Chambers, Paranoid, Facelift, Road To Ruin, and.." He pauses and looks up to Mendez again. She sighs and they both say simultaneously.

"Teenage Dream."

"For tradition." He adds on.

"Mhm. I'm sure."

"It brings back good memories what can I say?" He peeks over his shoulder at you as Mendez flips pages and plucks disks before clicking them into small plastic cases. "Mark, you want anything?"

"Like music?"

"I mean, if you want anything else we'll have to negotiate but for now I'm asking about music, yeah."

"I'm fine."

"No, no. You pick at least one, I don't want to hear you bitching about what I listen to. Besides, you say morale and everyone thinks about a platoon or a squadron. Warm food, dry socks, all that shit. But when it matters most is when it gets down to two. Especially when those two are on hour eight of watching a guy sit in his living room all day, it takes a toll."

He makes a good point, you approach the table and look over the folder as Mendez puts the last CD into a case and passes it over to Kimble before grabbing a sheet of laminated paper and adding his name and CD's to it in marker. She looks to you and smiles warmly.

"Every car that ends up in here I have to go through and dig all the shit out of. You know, you helped out on that."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well those cars are full of a lot of stuff and not all of it is relevant to any cases but it has to go somewhere. Every CD in this bad boy was pulled out of the cars nobody came for." She pats the case affectionately.

"And people want them?"

"You see an AUX cable in your shop?"

"No, ma'am."

"You have Bluetooth in that thing either?"

"No.."

"Well there you go. I lend em out on the condition they get back to me, helps endear me to the common beat walker like your friend there." Kimble simply nods as he sorts through the cases. " Plus I think it says a lot about a person, the kind of music they listen to."

She slides the case forward and gestures.
"Take whatever you want, I know you'll bring it back."

You take a look down and flip a few pages, letting yourself get familiar with the disks and earmarking a few in your head that you may want. You get to the end and flip back.

"I'll take.."

>"Nevermind the Bollocks, I used to listen to this all the time when I was younger."
>"Appetite for Destruction, My dad loves this album. Every road trip he broke it out."
>"50 Years - Don't stop. My mom would play this on nights Dad had to work and we'd be home alone."
>"Hot Fuss, Ni- Uh.. an ex of mine got me to listen to this."
>Write-In (Encouraged)


I've been getting time crunched like a mother recently, so to apologize for the lack of forward momentum in the quest here is another "Mark DeLucia, Canon Personality." Vote. Also I'm curious to see what songs you guys may recommend or think would fit for Mark. I also hope to find the time to get a bonus update in one of these days to help drive the story forward a bit.

>>6123993
>Write-In (Encouraged)
Almost choose one of the many many Now Thats What I Call Music CDs but settle on a Best of Nate King Cole album.

>>6123993
>"Appetite for Destruction, My dad loves this album. Every road trip he broke it out."

>>6123993
>"Got any Biggie Smalls? Man's got a voice like no other."

>>6123993

>Judas Priest

"Defenders of the Faith"

>>6122843
>"You're a vicious little over achiever, DeLucia. Anyone ever tell you that?"
Kek, all game/quest protagonists are. I remember people remarking on it about Harry in DE because (you) jog everywhere and never stop doing quests, because it's a videogame, duh, but for everyone in-game it looks like you're insanely driven.
I think the solution is to sometimes skip days/weeks where "nothing happens", but Idk.
>>6123993
>Any Pink Floyd? Wish You Were Here album or "best hits" collection?
Their longer tracks are good for drawing, maybe they're good for marinating in a car for a day too.
Also Mark lestening to ambient-adjacent music fits in my head. Shine On You Crazy Diamond would go hard when you're a psychic cop on a stakeout.

>>6124114
For other ambient I'd propose "Low Roar", but with unknown date in the quest it might not exist yet. So I went for something old.
"I'll Keep Coming" fits Mark I think. At lest a little.

>>6124116
>be me, Gotham criminal
>huge Kojima fan, just saw Death Stranding trailer
>on my way to boost some rich guy’s car
>put on that funky trailer song to get me in the mood
>friend thinks it sucks ass, unplugs my phone, starts playing galaxy gas rap bullshit

Am I the only one with taste in this fucking hellhole city?

Seriously though, the idea of a criminal riding around with “0” in his fucking CD player is hilarious. He would have good taste in music, though.

>>6124142
>gangbanger goes through the "you watch chinese cartoons, son?" ordeal again with his cohorts

>>6123993
>>Write-In (Encouraged)
We Didn't Start the Fire

>>6124015
I'll back Biggie.

>>6123993
Let's get NOTORIOUS.

>>6123993
>Whats going on By Marvin Gaye its smooth and guarantees getting the ladies

>>6124015
>>6124364
>>6124004

You turn the pages slowly letting your hand hover above "Now That's What I Call Country 6" before giving Mendez a look and a chuckle.

"Kidding."

You flip to the last page and grab it.

Life After Death

"Nice pick." Kimble chimes in, giving you a light nod and patting your back.

"Man's got a voice like nobody else, plus y'know. East coast, Gotham. I'd be a traitor if I didn't."

"Wouldn't have pegged you for gangster rap." Mendez mutters while she writes your name and the album on her sheet.

You shrug.

"It's good, basically poetry depending on who you listen to."

"Mhm, I can imagine all the bitches and hoes Hemmingway must have had around." She replies before handing you a light blue CD case. "Don't scratch it up."

You nod and turn to follow Kimble, who already has the bag slung on his shoulder.

"Time to go, enjoy your double shift of reading auto-mags and drinking enough caffeine to kill a foal."

A silent middle finger is all he gets for that one..

=====

"So? It's cozy right?"

You fiddle with the seat levers and switches. Struggling to get it to a position that you could call 'cozy'.

"Who the hell was riding in this before? They left enough leg room to fit a small tent."

"That was me. I'm usually alone and I like the space to keep everything up by the wheel. But c'mon you feel how smooth the ride is? THIS is luxury."

"It's a very nice boat." You reply, clicking your seatbelt into place and finally settling into a position that didn't make you feel like a lone grape in a bowl. "The seat is pretty nice though, big enough I could fall asleep if I wanted."

"Have a long night? Cause I usually reserve the right to nap on watch for the 6 hour point."

"No I'm fine, just saying it's really.. big."

"You're gonna make me blush." He replies, turning out of the garage and onto the familiar grey streets of Gotham. "It's off to the Yacht Club right?"

"Mhm, we'll check out the boat and see if we can dig up anything. Worse case we just start moving down the list, starting with those cigaret-" You pause. A peculiar idea emerging from your mind. You dig in your pocket and pull out a crumpled pack.

"If you're gonna smoke roll down the windows."

"No.. I think.. Hm." You mumble away as you pluck a cigarette from the carton and move your fingers up and down it's length. Squeezing and searching for any kind of foreign object imbedded in the dry toasted tobacco. Nothing on this one but..

"What the fuck are you doing!? Don't make a mess." Kimble says as you turn the cig upside down and roll it between your fingers to send the loose shavings floating down onto your lap.

"I'm checking these for trackers or any other kind of bug." You reply as you flick the empty casing out the window and pull another stick.

"Gorchakov probably needs a picture guide on how to tie his own shoes, I doubt he's operating like the CIA."

"But his boss might be. You weren't interested in the cigarettes but he gives you a pack anyways? He knows you won't smoke them, so he leaves a bug to keep tabs on us." You mumble as your fingers work another cigarette free of it's toasted insides.

"Grey was right, that Question guy is influencing you." Kimble sighs. As he comes to a stop at a red he turns to you and holds out his hand. "Gimme the cigarettes."

"But I-"

"If you think they might be bugged I got a faster way of handling it that doesn't involve having to shop vac this fucking thing before I give it back to Mendez." He gestures you again to hand over the pack and you do.

"This is a technique I learned in the Army, used it all the time when one of my guys had something they shouldn't." He says as he presses the powered window button and lobs the pack onto the street where it lies limply. "Problem solved."

"We still don't know if it was bugged or not." You protest.

"And? If you found a bug what was the plan? We yell 'Fuck you' into the microphone? Besides if it was bugged then this squirrely fuck is probably on his second rum and coke a couple hundred miles in the sky."

You sigh and pick the flakes of tobacco from your lap, following Kimble's lead you let it fall from your hand outside the window. As the light goes green Kimble gives you a side glance.

"Let's worry about things we can deal with, like that letter."

"The le- Ah. Yeah." You dig in your pocket and pull it out, letting your eyes scan the page hungrily.

"Mark, buddy. Out loud please." Kimble prods.

"Oh shit, sorry."

====

Dear Commissioner Gordon and the entirety of the GCPD.

This is only the beginning. I'm sending this letter to plea with you, in addition to ensuring proper credit is given in whatever future is left, I wish to be remembered for the role I played in this. While I expect to be called many things now, mad-man, serial killer, monster, etc. I expect the future people of this world to know my intentions were rooted in good. I know you're a man rooted in good as well, Commissioner. Your reputation precedes you in all circles I've had the displeasure of serving in, you're one of the few redeeming qualities of this city. But this city is steeped in sin and misery and anguish. Everywhere I look I see suffering and it's only recently I found a way to stop it.

This city is to be sacrificed. I don't know what greater power wants this place or why but it wants it nonetheless and it wants every soul inside. December 25th marks the end of Gotham and every second leading to that moment whatever presence looms over this city eats at the soul of everyone inside. It pricks and pokes them with nightmares and puts silent suggestions into their heads to commit acts of horrible evil. I speak from experience. But I've broken free of my chains and I've been blessed with the sight to see the chains that bind others.

That's why I implore you to publish this letter. Everyone has to know that the end is coming and only through death will they find salvation and that I am the one who will bring it. From this day on I will kill any that I find suffering these filthy streets. I will cut, sever, and tear into the people of this city and save them from this cruel fate and make them into angels much like the one who watches over me. However, from here on is for your eyes only. I do not plan on facing judgment day, the night of the 24th at midnight I plan to take my own life and join the angels I've made so there's no point in tracking me down. My fate is already sealed. I just ask that you respect my work as I have yours and allow me to save as many as possible. Perhaps even you, or the lovely Barbara, to join your late wife. May she rest in peace.

It is divine mandate that no chains hold me, Commissioner. Don't waste the time you have left.

- SIM.

====

"Wow." Kimble says flatly. "You weren't joking that guy is a fucking screwjob, and I thought the masks were bad."

"He's completely off the deep end.." You say, still staring at the letter. Overanalyzing every bit of text.

"I'm surprised you managed to stay cordial with him, the second somebody starts talking at me about God's plan and Armageddon I usually tell em I don't have any spare change." Kimble laughs but you feel something under it. Tense. An unspoken pressure.

Kimble gives you another side-glance as he turns onto the last stretch of road before the Yacht Club.

"I mean, the 24th? As in the night before Christmas?"

"And all through the house." You joke, but your voice fails to carry any joviality.

"There's plenty stirring though, this guy's brain is the consistency of scrambled eggs if he believes this." Kimble scoffs and looks to you "I mean it's bullshit right? Armageddon on Christmas is a bit on the nose."

>"Honestly.. I don't know. I wanna say yes but I've seen things in nightmares and visions.."
>"He's a killer fresh off the leash and he wants an excuse. Don't humor this asshole."
>"I think HE believes it and that's all that matters, he's going to do what he thinks is right and we have to stop him."
>"Yacht Club is right here, we should get to work."
>Write-In

>>6124561
>>"I think HE believes it and that's all that matters, he's going to do what he thinks is right and we have to stop him."
>>Write-In
even if we have to shoot him or throw him into in arkham or whatever maximum prison

>>6124561
>"I think HE believes it and that's all that matters, he's going to do what he thinks is right and we have to stop him."

All the more reason to just shoot this prick on sight. It’s not like we’ll have to live with the repercussions for long.

>>6124592
An addendum:
>Kimble, have you ever wanted to kill a perp? To just skip all of the legal bullshit and do some sick asshole in? Cause that’s not how we do things… right? How do you deal with that?

>>6124592
>>6124594
+1 just to clear things out
We're a Duty and Honor cop, not Batman or a vigilante

>>6124561
>Write-in
>Supernatural stuff clearly exists, but even for me, a person trying his best to stay rooted in reality, it's sometimes hard to tell how much of it is trustworthy. Clearly this guy just believes whatever he sees in his dreams. So no, I don't think it's real.
Mark chose to not give in into insanity, time to stick to this decision, even if it's pure copium.
>Write-in
>Kimble, have you ever wanted to kill a perp? To just skip all of the legal bullshit and do some sick asshole in? Cause that’s not how we do things… right? How do you deal with that?
"Fuck I really should have domed him with my service pistol when we met in that cafe"

Perhaps it's time to call Batman. While Mark is the type to cling to reality, Bat was always a high functioning schizo. He absolutely belives in the armaggedon, and I'm curious what would be his plan. Besides kicking out Nightwing that is. If we stick to "something under Gotham is influencing SIM" theory then we gotta somehow follow SIM's trail to it. And he leaves little physical trail. I hate to say it, but we might need to go searching for clues in dreams.

I also wonder what is Calc's take on all this. Definitely not according to plan lol.

>>6124618
>Mark chose to not give in into insanity
Martian Manhunter and Question as well as Hawthorne himself were huge for this. I bet Mark had the same thought we players did - that SIM is being manipulated by whatever is beneath Gotham
>somehow follow SIM's trail to it
I don't think any cop has walked a beat all the way down into the literal heart of Gotham City miles beneath the Wayne building. The mystety force must be a genuine nuke in power if it can turn the whole entirety of city limits into an actual smoking volcanic crater

>>6124614
I’m not implying we *would* shoot SIM, but it would be natural for Mark to be thinking about it. Kimble is probably the best guy to ask about this, considering his rough transition from soldier to cop.

>>6124561
>>"I think HE believes it and that's all that matters, he's going to do what he thinks is right and we have to stop him."

>>6124556
>yell “fuck you into the microphone”
TOPKEK- as the guy who suggested going through the cigarette pack- I approve this entire exchange

>>6124618
>batman
Would probably be better to pass off this “supernatural shit” to J’ohn Jones and let him know about it if possible - he’s certainly a lot easier to contact than Batman

>>6124563
>>6124592
>>6124594
>>6124614
>>6124618
>>6124646

"I think HE believe it and that's all that matters, he's going to do what he thinks is right and we have to stop him.. even if it comes down to killing him."

"Bit dark for you, DeLucia." Kimble remarks.

"I.." You try to speak but no words come, inside your head you're trapped in a memory. His masked face staring at you. So close. Close enough to do something.

"Kimble." You say quietly. "Have you ever wanted to kill a perp?"

"What?" He asks, genuine shock splayed across his face.

"Just skip all the legal bullshit and just.. put some sick bastard down? Cause that's not how we do things, right?"

His expression goes stony as you speak, turning somber when you reach the end. It's strange how natural it looks on him.

"Mark, brother.." Kimble sighs and drags his hand down his face. He seems to think one thing but he shakes his head and looks you in the eyes. "Yeah. I've been there. Lots of cops have, hell Hawthorne's been there."

"I watched him walk away from it though. But the more I think about it.. the more I regret not putting a bullet in SIM's head the day we met. I feel like.." You pause. Scared to confront a thought that's been lingering in your mind.

You look at Kimble again, as he patiently waits, and remember Hawthorne's story, how Kimble's transition from soldier to cop was rough, how it took time. If anyone would understand it would be him.

"I feel like from this point on every person he kills is on me in a way. Because I had chances to stop him, I had opportunities to try and lead him a different way and if maybe I said something different that things wouldn't have played out like this. It honestly makes the entire sting feel worthless to me, we arrested some of the biggest crime bosses in Gotham to protect people and all it accomplished was lead to this.." You clench your fists as you speak, hate and rage turning your gut into a boiling cauldron. "It's on my hands."

Kimble nods slowly, ingesting everything you said. Slowly he looks to you and then slaps you across the face. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to jolt you, you just stare at him.

"I'm doing for you what I wish someone did for me earlier. Because it wasn't until Hawthorne that I got set straight. He was my 2nd chance, did you know that?"

You shake your head, still slightly in a fog.

"My old TO and I answered a call. A domestic, typical shit, daddy comes home from the bar and decides to wail on mommy. Only this time Timmy's around to watch, his school had an assembly with GCPD where we told them that if you were ever in trouble to call us and we'd come to help. To make things better." Kimble's eyes are distant as he recounts the story. "So anyways, he does what we told him. We get inside and she's looking like hell in a human suit while he's prowling in the kitchen. Pacing like he's pissed off at the DMV, the entire time I'm just watching him.. staring him down because I can see it. In his eyes, in the way he was tensed up. He was on the edge."

"Did she want to press charges?"

"We were getting the usual story. The door, the stairs, whatever. She's too scared to even protect herself. But my TO knew people, he knew how to talk to em. He asks her 'Are you going to wait until he starts doing this to your boy before you finally say something?' and the dad doesn't like that at all. So he starts yelling. Pig this and Whore that, telling his wife she needs to make us leave and the entire time I feel like I'm living in slow motion... Up to the point that he decides the best way to emphasize his point is to grab a kitchen knife."

"He tried to-"

"No. We were at the front door, he was on the other end of the apartment, there wasn't any way he'd have done anything before we could respond but uh.. didn't matter. Because I already responded. The second he got that blade up to chest height I had already drawn and put three shots center mass... right past Mom's head."

"What?"

"She collapsed. First grabbing her ears but.. when she saw what I did she crawled to him hugged his body. Just to the right was the hallway where his son was standing.. he still had the phone in his hand. He was just looking. No tears. Just staring." Kimble blinks a few times and rubs at his eye with his thumb. "He called the police to protect him, he did everything right, and I came to his house and killed his fucking dad in front of him. You wanna know how I felt? Looking at all that?"

You nod gently.

"I wasn't horrified, that I just wounded a civilian. Traumatized a kid. I wasn't even bothered that I had just killed someone in their own home. I was relieved." Kimble whispers. "I took out the threat.. They say nothing exists in a vacuum but that's bullshit. Survival exists there, when it's real.. when you think it's real. It exists without context, there's living or dying and I was trained to live. After that my TO didn't want to touch me, he backed me up that it was a good shoot.. that the dad was close enough to rush down mom or the kid. That I HAD to do it. But it was bullshit.. I'm not fucking proud of it either."

"I'm sorry." You reply with the only thing you can think of.

"Me too. For a long time I was fucked up over that, wasn't until Hawthorne gave me a sit down that I even started to really understand. Sometimes people need the chance to change, just one chance to prove they can be more than what you've seen. The guy was a piece of shit and he deserved every second he would have spent in a cell. And who knows, maybe that time could have changed him for the better. I scarred that kid because I didn't have the capacity to think about what was best for him, I had to learn it. Which is what I actually envy about you."

"About me?"

"How much you care. How easy it is for you to care, to take those things into account, like it comes natural. Hell one of the first times we actually worked together was that Gas Station stick-up. You talked that guy down, you understood him. You didn't see him as a criminal or a threat. You saw him as someone who was in over his head and needed a hand. Not a bullet. You gave it to him without a second thought, even after he shot at YOU." Kimble chuckles. "I'm not gonna lie, I thought you were some kind of idealist looking to clean up Gotham with a gentle hand. But then we met in the alley."

"Firebug.."

"Yeah, what a fucking mess that was. I saw you and, no offense, figured we were screwed. But you surprised me, the moment you saw that maniac you drew down and put some good shots on him."

"Who wouldn't?"

"Fair enough. But still, I could tell you got it. You grabbed Dent and made a run for it, you knew Banks and I had signed up for this, and you knew that it would make you his priority. But you did your job anyways and I respected you a hell of a lot for it. Which is why I'm not gonna sugar coat any of this."

"Alright.."

"This job is shit. It's thankless most of the time, you constantly interact with the worst parts of the city, and every day something is going to challenge your morals, your ideals, it'll even challenge things you thought were concrete about yourself. But it's important that you keep track of what you are, a man. Everyone you meet is also just a man, or a woman, someone like you. Your neighbor. Anyone can kill for a good cause, plenty do it for selfish reasons or sometimes no reason at all. But what makes you a good person, a good cop, is that you're willing to die for a good cause. Even if the cause is tiny. You're willing to be the shield that eats the brunt of how evil this place can get, just so someone else doesn't have to."

"I hear you, but good intentions don't undo the fact that I helped set SIM loose on Gotham."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, but you're only in hell when you intend to do no more good." Kimble says firmly. "Doing the right thing isn't always easy and doing something good doesn't mean the universe owes you a positive outcome. But the only thing you do by giving into that mentality is the guarantee that more people get hurt. We don't do what's right because we think it'll work out for us, we're willing to risk bearing the weight of our decisions because the alternative is letting someone innocent bear the weight of our inaction."

You sit in silence. Kimble's words burying themselves in your head as you mull over everything he's said. Despite it all you feel a bit lighter after sharing this.

"So how do I deal with it? When I see him? Because I will see him again when we find him."

"That's the part where I can't help you because.. I don't know. These feelings aren't gonna go away, I still feel my finger twitch whenever someone moves too fast, but ignoring them isn't the way to handle it. Find a way to make your anger work for you and don't be ashamed about anything you've done so far. You did it all for the right reasons, at least I trust that you did. I trust YOU." He prods you in the chest. "If you meet him and he ends up with more holes that a grater then I trust it had to be done that way. But I think I have a pretty good grasp on you by now and I don't think it'll go down like that. Not if you can help it."

"Yeah?"

"He's a sick fuck. But the operative word there is sick, plus his death would satisfy you and me sure. But we both know it wouldn't mean as much to the family of his victims, people who want the truth and need to see that their system is actually looking out for them. We both know it isn't real justice."

You look out the window and stare at the Yacht Club ahead. Kimble follows your gaze and unlocks the doors.

"We can focus on work for a bit if you want, give you some time to think over what I told you."

>"Let's do that, I could use some fresh air."
>"I don't need to think it over, you're right. Thank you for helping me take a step back from myself."
>"No need, I appreciate everything you told me but.. I don't know. I just still feel like I could have done more."
>Write-In


More Kimble backstory and a fat ol update. Very much so enjoyed writing this out and getting into more of the ideology side of the job, I would very much like to hear what you guys think about Kimble's story, his views, as well as this inner conflict that's brewing in Mark. (I've already seen some talk about it and I like seeing people discuss.)

I may do another update over the weekend to better set the scene for the Yacht Club. But otherwise, we will return on Sunday at the usual time. Hope you enjoyed guys, see you soon.

>>6125134
kimble is my fav character now

>"I don't need to think it over, you're right. Thank you for helping me take a step back from myself."

>>6125134
>"I don't need to think it over, you're right. Thank you for helping me take a step back from myself."

>>6125134
>"I don't need to think it over, you're right. Thank you for helping me take a step back from myself."
Nice talk. I hope the fellow anons wanting us to kill SIM can rein it in now after this. This is the DUTY AND HONOR cop quest, not a usual quest where our protag can simply kill who we anons dislike

>>6125122
I like that this sentiment is more from us players than Mark's own character, though it's absolutely a thought every person with a weapon has naturally had

>>6125129
>The guy was a piece of shit and he deserved every second he would have spent in a cell. And who knows, maybe that time could have changed him for the better. I scarred that kid because I didn't have the capacity to think about what was best for him, I had to learn it
Am I too traumatized or fucked in the head, if my first response is that the kid was already scarred from being in a shitty home like that, and killing his abusive father who would never change is in fact doing the kid a favor? Am I truly too hopeless or too used to the unchange and predictability of those around me that I see an outcome like this in a positive way?

>>6125134
>"Let's do that, I could use some fresh air."

>>6125217
The world needs executioners just as much as it needs counselors, man. Don't worry about it.

>>6125204
QM said in the past that he sees our input as dueling thoughts in Mark’s head, a la Disco Elysium.

So if I’m understanding this correctly (never played that game lol) it’s that the thought of “I’d love to put five rounds in this mother fucker” can cross his mind but never motivates him to action. Like the votes for him to take drastic action are momentary impulses that he’s (so far) managed to reign in.

So in a way, anons like you are Mark’s conscience. And anons like me are his temper. Because the way SIM is written brings out violent impulses in me, whatever that says about me I guess. I’m more or less happy with losing those votes though, the last thing I want is for Mark to go full Cobra and start shooting gang bangers on sight.

>>6124553
>Mhm, I can imagine all the bitches and hoes Hemmingway must have had around."
Probably would have had more, of various flavors, if he wasn't so closeted.

>>6124618
>Batman the schizo
Sometimes, but if this isn't Apokalips, it's Barbatos the Bat Demon and the Dark Multiverse. It's not schizophrenia when it's true.

>>6125134
>"Let's do that, I could use some fresh air."
With all the above in mind, and after that great scene, I strongly support confiding in Kimble that we think SIM is being guided by a supernatural force and are considering calling in the League, since we know at least three Leaguers (Jones, even if we have no idea who he is; Bats; Nia).

>>6125134
>>"I don't need to think it over, you're right. Thank you for helping me take a step back from myself."

>>6125129
>you understood him. You didn't see him as a criminal or a threat.
Well duh, Mark was in his head. Empathy comes easy when you can do that. Or hatred. Being in Gorchakov's head only really made me hate him more.
>>6125134
>"Let's do that, I could use some fresh air."
Mark is just overworked if anything. You're not supposed to deal with mole investigation, city-wide conspiracy and a psycho killer while you're still a rookie.
>>6125502
>I strongly support confiding in Kimble that we think SIM is being guided by a supernatural force
We have just told him we don't really belive in the end of the world, but slipping a line about SIM being easy to mislead with dream bullshit might work, yeah. Maybe not right now though.

>>6125167
>>6125195
>>6125203
>>6125602

"I don't need to think it over, you're right." You start. "Thank you for helping me take a step back from myself."

"Glad to help. You intellectual types have a habit of getting up your own asses." He smiles as he extends his fist.

"Don't sell yourself short, you'd be just as good shrinking heads as cracking 'em" You reply in a half-joking tone.

You tap knuckles and both step out of the car. The salty brine of Gotham Bay blows over you and sends a shiver through your body, the wind is getting a bite to it now. You shake it off and join Kimble as he approaches the glass doors to the Yacht Club's main office. Stepping inside you're grateful for the flood of warmth. Standing at a desk just before the entrance is a man in an antique tuxedo jacket and bowtie, a pencil thin moustache and pointed beard, and an expression that is reluctantly welcoming. A golden nametag reads: Sebastian.

"Ahh, hello gentlemen. Are you lost perhaps?" He asks, eyeing up your street clothes and Kimble's military casual.

"Perhaps not." Kimble replies, pulling a badge from his pocket and flashing it. "We were hoping to get a look at a member's boat."

Sebastian's face get's tight and tense, but his courteous smile remains plastered on his face.

"I see." He says simply. "Unfortunately, Officers, most of our clientele has departed for the season. I'm sure you're aware how the bay loves to freeze over, makes for poor yachting weather."

"That lounge for employees then?" You nod over his shoulder to a set of leather couches you can see just around the corner. You sniff the air too, your amplified senses taking in the rich aroma of some meaty stew or gravy. "Smells like you're setting up lunch too, that a perk for employees?"

"Very astute, Officer." He says with a small bow. "We host multiple events and luncheons for our members during the winter months, when sailing is less than appealing, the membership is year round after all. However I was simply pointing out that the specific boat you seek may have already set sail, so to say."

"Lucky for us we happen to know the owner, he's sitting in our lock-up wearing some chic metal bracelets. I actually have an extra pair if you want to try em for yourself."

"Please sir, I was simply providing you some information. After all I don't even know what vessel you're here for."

"Steven Mandragora. His vessel."

"Of course, sir. I'd just have to get one of our valet staff search key storage. While they do that perhaps you'd be willing to hand over your warrant?"

Kimble's eyes close and you see him clench his jaw.

"You do have a warrant, don't you Officer?" Sebastian prods.

Kimble replies with a stiff finger in his face and a whisper.

"Just, one moment. Don't go anywhere and keep your hands up on the desk too for me would ya?"

Sebastian's face relaxes and he nods, rolling his eyes. Kimble corrals you and leads you close to the door before leaning in and whispering.

"Fuck this guy. Crook concierge piece of shit."

"Can't we just get a warrant?"

"That's gonna kill a lot of time, we'd have to find a judge who'll sign off and the fact we didn't know about this boat before-hand means he went through some level of trying to hide it means they'll need a good reason from us."

"Are we in that big of a rush?"

"I would say no if it wasn't for him dancing around our question so long, he's experienced. Probably waiting for his first chance to tell some wave jockey to go pull the anchor on that thing and push it out into the bay."

"He'd do that? With us still here?"

"This place keeps toys for some of the biggest names in the city. Hell, Wayne has a boat twice the size of your place floating out here. Word gets out they'll roll over for GCPD and they're less than savory clients are gonna dry up and celebrities are like roaches, they follow the mess."

"What do we do then?"

"I'm working on it... Feel free to chip in."

>"How much cash do you have on you? This is Gotham at the end of the day."
>"Why don't we strong-arm him? We're cops, it's not like he can just brush us off, he'll fold if we pull the cuffs out."
>"I mean if he's worried about reputation what's stopping us from just hanging out up front until his 'luncheon' guests arrive? That'll pressure him."
>"I mean.. the fence didn't look that tall. I bet we could get in the old fashioned way."
>"Maybe we should just call this in, maybe Reiner can get us an expedited warrant?"
>Write-In

>>6126792
I don't think I wanna Shivers this. We need to retain sanity and energy for later
Is Mark the type of cop to pull the cash on people like this? This desk man must be no stranger to bribes from the rich crooks
Cuffs intimidation won't shake him. This guy's type are statues
Do we have the time to hang out here until things happen? Green light is over but SIM is loose
Fence jumping can work but the guy will be on alert now that cops came to ask about the boat
I do NOT want to involve Reiner more to get him more pissed at Mark

>>6126792
Let’s consider our options here:
-bribery: this guy is paid enough money to fight the police, there’s no way Mark and Kimble can pay him off
-cuff him: liable to get us into massive trouble
-breaking and entering: this is a good way to make our evidence inadmissible
-call the tard wrangler: Reiner might actually kill Mark, and it would still take enough time for the concierge to move the boat

Which leaves us with:
>"I mean if he's worried about reputation what's stopping us from just hanging out up front until his 'luncheon' guests arrive? That'll pressure him."

Let’s do it the way real world cops strong-arm people: by being such a colossal inconvenience that people will consent to anything they say just to get it over with.

>>6126825
+1
Lawfully-mandated annoyance into compliance, go!

>>6126825
+1
Inconvenience, go!

>>6126825
If that works, that'd be the second time we've done it lol.
Remember the mob boss trying to pull a power move when he told us to wait while he finishes eating? And we just went "Alright" and sat there staring at him.

>>6126792
This is beyond cash and physicality won't help.

The better move is maybe leveraging Dent to get into the dining room. Anything to make our presence significant. That and the underlying threat of cops being here continously for the next month.

We know mandrogas boat is here. We know he's in the clink. That means if it leaves, it's being stolen. That gives us reason to stop a crime in progress if it comes down to that.

>>6126825
My concern is that with this being Gotham, nobody will even blink at the idea of there being criminals among the membership.

>>6126792
>"I mean if he's worried about reputation what's stopping us from just hanging out up front until his 'luncheon' guests arrive? That'll pressure him."
Might as well, though. I have no better ideas.

>>6126825
Could we layer this up by asking various questions? Like their prior history of how securely to boats are kept, inquiring about every possible angle of security to prevent them from being stolen or coming loose?

After all, we want to be very, very certain that it can't go anywhere without deliberate sabotage. Maybe ask about their history?

Maybe after a bunch of questions we "suddenly realize" we should write this down. And oh no, we're missing a pen, diverting the conversation to get one. And once we get one, we'll want to go back through the questions, won't we? Make sure it is perfectly the statements of the Yacht Club...

>>6126953
Potential addition: If this setting is in the Early Age of the Internet, see if we can trigger the Gamestop Battletoads prank. Maybe using Max Payne instead, for the double joke of Bruce Wayne and maximum pain pun.

>>6126953
“I’m sorry, my body camera was off. Would you mind repeating all of that?”

“Oh dammit, I forgot to charge the thing. I need to go find a pen, can you tell me where I can find one?”

“Son of a bitch, this thing is dry. Hang on a second, will ya?”
>Proceeds to awkwardly lick the pen and scribble on a notepad as we attempt to pretend the pen doesn’t work

“Okay, now that all of that is over, can you give us the exact same answers, from the top again?”

“Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t get that written down in time. Can you please repeat that? I’m a slow writer.”

“Would you please stay here and verify your version of events? If we don’t do it now then we’ll have to come back later. It won’t take long, just a read-through of our conversation.”

We’re gonna have this guy on suicide watch by the end.

>>6126963
Banks had a smart phone in his hospital room and Kimble is a GWoT veteran. Based on what we’ve seen from him I would guess he’s been on the force for about 10 years or so? At least long enough to get a reputation.

Usual time in active duty for an enlisted soldier is 4 years, so we’re talking about a minimum of Kimble exiting around 2007. I also haven’t heard any mention of spicy flus, but this is the DC continuity so who knows if that even counts.

I estimate some time between 2017 and 2019. And I just learned that I’m probably only two years younger than Mark… I feel old, anons.

>>6126985
In that case, probably don't want the Battletoads plan. Bit late for something like that to kick off on the scale we'd want to annoy this clerk.

>>6126825
>>6126832
>>6126867

"Shit.. " You mumble, your brain kicking into problem solving mode. "Alright, what can we do?"

"Kick his ass." Kimble offers.

"Too much paperwork." You counter.

As you sit there digging through your head you keep coming back to one memory. One feeling. The state you were in when McCloud was in your face and it was on your shoulders alone to keep him from getting to the letters, when nothing came to mind except for..

"Protocol." You whisper.

"Huh?"

"Follow my play. I'm gonna hit him with the fucking patrol guide."

You go to move but Kimble stops you.

"What's your plan?"

"I'm gonna be a colossal inconvenience to him and this place's 'reputation' until he complies."

He gives you a few seconds of a hard stare and whatever he sees is enough. Nodding once, he falls in behind you with crossed arms and a stoic expression.

"Sorry, sir. We've taken up a lot of your time already."

"Oh it's no problem, Officer. I was just expecting that if you came here with such specific requests you would have a warrant with you as well."

"Yeah well, it's a long process." You say, letting your words linger as you search each pocket slowly and painfully for your notepad. "Only thing is, my body cam turned itself off so I didn't catch the first part of our conversation. Do you mind if we start from the top?"

"Aha. If you remember, Officer. I mentioned a luncheon for our members is starting so-"

"Yes yes of course, it won't take long I promise." You raise your hands and chuckle. "Hey I get it, you know? Nobody likes the fuzz, even cops get nervous driving when they see a parked cruiser lingering. I swear this won't take long."

He sighs but maintains his customer service grin.

"Go ahead."

"Alright, can I get your name for the record?"

"It's Sebastian Deuxmoir." He states, putting a heavy accent on his last name.

"Alright.. D-u-m-o-r-"

"No no, DEUX. D-e-u-x. It's French."

"Oh of course." You splutter, feigning embarrassment. "Let me just fix this and.."

You make a show of pressing the pen firmly into your note pad. Pulling it back and dapping the ballpoint on your tongue before trying again. The entire time you mumble curses.

"Shit.. I'm out of ink. Lemme just-" You start the process again of painfully and slowly patting each pocket before double checking with a quick sweep of the fingers. Making sure to ignore the store of back up pens you keep in your belt. "I'm SO sorry. I just really need to make sure I do this right. I'm still training.."

"I have a pen, sir." Sebastian tries to offer. But you wave him away.

"No, I should really have my own. Uh, Kimble, sir? Do you have a pen I could use?"

"No." He says simply, maintaining his crossed arms.

You sheepishly look to Sebastian and take the pen from his hands, chuckling awkwardly you click it and let out a sigh.

"Alrighty then. So.."

>>6127289
God. this is such an assholish move.

You spend the next ten or so minutes getting through about two questions. Getting the answers were like pulling teeth but you were in the role of patient, refusing to let Sebastian speak for more than five seconds before you noticed something else to address.

"..hold that thought I think my phone is buzzing.."

"..one more time. How do you spell your last name?"

"..please slow down, sir. I don't write that fast."

"..I just didn't know if it was different from a normal lunch haha.."

"..Kimble, you ever pilot a yacht for the army? No that would be the navy wouldn't it?"

When you finally get done recapping the hard facts that:

The boat might not be here.
His name.
It is almost Winter.
The Luncheon is soon.

You dot the page and flip it, making sure he see's the fact that the notepad is mostly filled with scribbles and lines from your 'pen dying' and lean on his desk with your elbows before continuing.

"So you deny that Steven Mandragora has a membership?"

"I wouldn't know off the top of my head."

"So you harbor boats for non-members?"

"No, officer."

"So you wouldn't let someone dock here if they couldn't prove they owned the vessel? I'm assuming you also keep those keys on a tight leash, nobody but the owner gets em. Right?"

"That is right, Officer." He sighs.

"So that means IF his boat is here, it would mean he's a member. That he proved ownership, passed the keys or the anchor or whatever to a staff member and nobody other than him could retrieve the keys?"

He freezes and you see the customer service grin, weathered by minutes of amateur police improv, finally fade. You smile back.

Kimble steps forward, picking up what you're laying down.

"Since we got him in a regular old cell and not the brig. We can assume he didn't pick up his boat recently, which means if it isn't here there was a crime committed."

"Gentlemen.." Sebastian begins.

"If there's a possibility of a theft that's pretty serious. The cost of his yacht too? That makes it a felony." You follow up.

"And shit, if we're looking at a theft then that makes a lot of suspects out of your staff and members. Means we could take a good long time digging into everyone's business. Tell me, is discretion included in your pricing model?"

"This is outrageous!" Sebastian begins, his facade of civility dropping as he goes red faced. "You cannot come in here and behave like this. We have-"

The creaking of the door behind you shuts his mouth. You turn with Kimble and see a man in the full ensemble. Trench coat, fedora, long scarf, and a pair of shoes that cost more than you'll make annually three times over. He pauses mid de-scarfing and stares.

"Hello sir, we're investigating Steven Mandragora. The crime king-pin? Have you been involved in any of his murder-for-hires or extortion rackets?" You ask, doe-eyed and smiling.

"I think I'm in the wrong building.." The man mutters before tossing his scarf over his shoulder and turning back out the door.

You crane your head back to Sebastian and give him your best pouted lip "I'm sorry" face. He stares back at you like he'd set you on fire with his eyes if he could. Kimble leans in again, getting uncomfortably close while lowering his voice.

"Now, my partner here could do that entire routine for a few hours outside your front door."

"That's harassment." Sebastian hisses back.

"Yeah well it's state sponsored so good luck with the suit. Besides.." Kimble gestures to you. "Who can get mad at a fresh out the academy rookie just trying to make his bones huh? Look at that face, could you suspend that face?"

You bat your eyelashes coquettishly and wave a hand.

"Oh stop it. I'm just looking for what any good American deserves... the truth."

Kimble cranes his head back around and raises both his eyebrows.

"He's good, eh? We didn't really want to be assholes about this entire thing but stick enough rich fucks in a room and suddenly they start thinking they can do whatever they want." Kimble shakes his head. "Only pisses me off more when I see the common man covering for them, they pass you a few table scraps, pocket change they wouldn't miss if they watched it land in a fire, and all of a sudden you'll take the heat for em? C'mon man."

You slide up and go for the finishing move.
"You help us with this and the report has us assisted by 'a member' no name needed. You keep your club's reputation intact, we make sure that boat isn't carrying something that gets this entire place into trouble, and we both win."

Sebastian looks between you both, the red in his face fading to a light pink as he takes a stuffy breath. He starts three different sentences, ending them all after the first word with a huff, before he finally relents and reaches beneath his desk. Pulling out a brass rolodex, with a firm pull he removes a card and hands it to you.

DOCK #8

"Show this to an attendant and he will fetch you the key. Now please, get out of my dining room before I really DO file a harassment case."

Kimble plucks the card and nods once.

"Of course, sir. Thank you."

You both go around the desk and you make sure to leave Sebastian's pen perched on the edge of his desk.

====

"You know you can be a real conniving bastard when you wanna be." Kimble says to you. "I mean that was just some major league dickhead stuff back there. Really good."

You both walk single file down the thin docks. Key to Mandragora's boat in hand.

"I don't know I just.. I have a gift for improvising I guess." You reply uncomfortably. "Hard to feel bad for the guy after you turned the whole thing into a class war kinda situation."

"We all got our own ways of improvising, Marx. Cool it." He replies back jokingly before coming to a stop.

A long yacht sits bobbing in the black freezing waters of the bay, an extending metal boarding plank waits to be used, and Kimble whistles low.

"Bigger than I expected."

"Think about who it's carrying."

"Good point.. still though. It's big enough we should split up. Someone can take the outside and the other grabs the interior."

A strong gust blows through and you find yourself clutching your thin jacket and pulling it close. Kimble doesn't react, just waiting for you to settle before he gestures.

"So?"

"So what?"

"So which do you want?"

"I get to pick?"

"Of course, you got our foot in the door."

"I just figured this would be a 'rookie gets the short straw' moment."

"Nah. I told you, when we work together it's as partners. So pick one, I wanna wrap this up before you turn blue."

>"I'll take the exterior, everyone expects something to be hidden inside. That's why I bet he put something out here."
>"I'll go inside, I've been.. learning more about the different kinds of hiding spaces people can use indoors."

And..

>What's your searching technique? (Use this vote to give some more specifics to how you wish to search your voted area. This will affect roll DC)

>>6127299
>"I'll go inside, I've been.. learning more about the different kinds of hiding spaces people can use indoors."

Mostly because I think we should leave Kimble on the outside given his history. He'll be better at clocking anybody trying to sneak up from a distance if this turns into a trap. Which given the fact that Mandragora is hiding something on this boat means there's a non zero possibility he has safeguards in place for intruders.

>What's your searching technique? (Use this vote to give some more specifics to how you wish to search your voted area. This will affect roll DC)

Starting from the aft end of each deck we'll move forward securing doors and hatches as we go to prevent people from moving about if they're here. Once we finish each deck we repeat the process on the next deck down until we reach the bottom and we've secured the entire interior. Special attention should be given to any flooring that's not your standard poured epoxy or non-skid paint by checking for hollow spots by feel and sound. Also worth mentioning is any fuse boxes, circuit panels, and ventilation ducts that are attached to any bulkheads. or anything with external thumbscrews for removing panels. We would store bottles of various liquors inside of vents with velcro to keep them hidden and cold. That also brings to mind that if we find a space that's abnormally cold it means there's electrical equipment of some kind in there even if we can't see it.

>>6127305
+1 planon

>>6127305
+1
This anon knows his boat stuff.

>>6127305
+1
Nice trolling into actual victory you wrote QM, I chuckled at the scarf man doing a 360 and walking away

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>>6127305
Nice. Time for mark to have inexplicable amount of boat knowlege

>>6127566
>how do you know so much about boats?
>My dad likes boats.
Explic'd.

>>6127567
>Dad is now a boat enthusiast, has a portion of the basement filled with model sailing ships and fishing gear
>Once tried to convince Mom to let him make a model of Gotham Harbor circa the 50’s, complete with real water for him to sail his RC boats
>It was the closest they ever got to a divorce

>>6127305
>>6127306
>>6127338
>>6127341

"You take the outside, you're used to keeping an eye out for trouble."

"You expecting trouble?"

"I wouldn't put it past him to have a designated baby sitter watching this thing, or for Frenchy in there to call someone."

"Yeah good point.." Kimble grumbles, kicking the gangplank out to the boat and stepping aboard with his hand on the pistol he had holstered in his waist.

You follow along and step aboard, the shock of the swaying making you swing an arm out to keep balance.

"Easy there, DeLucia." Kimble calls.

"Just need a minute. I'll get it." You say, swaying your body and arm until you start to understand the boats rhythm. Slowly you get your legs back under you and open a hand. "Keys."

Kimble chucks them and you make the catch easily before approaching the door.

"Hey you ever been on a boat before, DeLucia?"

"My dad used to, before we moved the first time, he'd take me fishing sometimes it uh.. it helped."

"You any good at it?"

"I didn't like pulling out the hooks."

He grunts in response as he uses his toe to open a footlocker tied to the deck. You insert the key and twist, calling out.

"Shout if anything goes wrong."

"Shout or shoot?" Kimble asks, but when you lean around the corner you see him laughing at his own joke. You shake your head step inside.

The interior of the boat is cold and still, like a walk-in fridge that was unplugged, you can still smell the faintest notes of cologne in the air. The same cologne you smelled before he concussed you at the Lounge. You pull your phone and flip the light on, getting ready to search..

>Give me 1d100, Best of 3

Amazing plan from >>6127305 so that'll help the DC. Apologies this is so short but the post search updates are going to be pretty dense if things keep going the way I think.

Rolled 95 (1d100)

>>6127915
lets gooo

Rolled 77 (1d100)

>>6127915

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>>6127919

Rolled 63 (1d100)

>>6127915
>>6127919
Allow me to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory. I cast, POWER WORD: NATURAL ONE!

>>6127915
Much appreciated QM. it uhhh, isn't the first time I've had to search a ship. First time this job's come in handy on /qst/ I suppose.

>>6127934
Ah the unusual specificity and relevant skills on the Algerian Shoestring Threading Website strikes again kek

>>6127305
Only thing I'd really add is to check the doors themselves. Hinges, knobs, keyholes - all those places are fantastic to hide shit in.
That and loose objects that can be easily moved around. Pen compartments, bottles that look full but aren't, soda cans with screw-off tops...

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>>6127934
Are you that one Coast Guard guy who was filmed riding on top of a submarine while beating the hatch open with a hammer?

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The demons have compelled me to drop everything and draw this high effort shitpost

>>6128014
I like that the pattern for the chinz in a bunch of anons making a lattice. Super nice touch. Also, that's rad

>>6128014
Badass.

>>6128056
I guess my place in the knowledge-lattice is DC lore, but if Hypercrisis Bro were here he could solo this whole fucking quest with his comprehensively-researched Bathistory.

>>6127919
>>6127920
>>6127924

ROLL: 95
DC: 35
RESULT: Big success!

>>6128014
Holy FUCK, RW. This is incredible, I can't thank you enough for the art, it's stupidly high quality. Amazing really.

>>6127963
Unfortunately no, I'm not a coastie lol. Regular Navy squid that just likes to read a good story from time to time.

While the boat only has two levels that's all the more reason that anything hidden would be hidden well, so you move methodically as you go. First making a list of every point you want to re-examine but first making sure each room is actually empty. Once the rooms are clear of any threat you hunt down a light switch and turn on the interior lights before taking a breath and settling in..

====

You're in a mindset probably not too far from Question, as you move along you check every vent thoroughly. You eye the floors but they seem to be metal with a thin layer of stick-on flooring without the space to hide anything. You turn your attention to all the nooks and crevices you've noticed, even in the dim light your perception feels otherworldly, even the smallest details manage to catch in your eye. Some of the vents are easy to pry open, with already loosened screwheads. But the contents aren't of much interest, a few airplane bottles of booze kept in velvet bags and tucked away, a few of them already drank. The rooms up here also don't give you much in the way of suspicion. Four crew beds, a small living area with a fold out table and variety of cards, dice, and chips. Ordinary living quarters for whatever crew operates this thing for him, the only thing that gives you pause are beneath the cots; several shell casings. Nine Millimeter. You frown and let the brass tumble between your fingers. The smell of gunpowder is faint, must have been fired a good while ago. But still..

You pull your revolver from your waist and head to the bottom floor of this vessel. This is more what you were expecting.. an opulent tub sits in the center of this suite that takes up most of the space. A luxurious queen sized bed sits against the far wall, it's sheets and blankets tucked neatly into place. Whatever shelves for liquor or water don't hold small airplane shooters but full untouched bottles and intricately designed crystal glasses. Every piece of metal decor polished and reflecting. The more you look the more everything in here seems.. frozen. Placed in a particular way. Turned and posed. Probably a maid service or even that limited crew, making sure to put everything in order before he came back. Making sure every last inch was perfect.. except for the spots it isn't.

The best place to look for something he wouldn't want them touching would be where it still seems lived in. His desk, built with dark oak and a tarnished brass trim, covered in papers in a foreign language. From the numbers and the layout of the page you assume it's some sort of business document.

You set it aside and keep shifting through papers, photos, and receipts. The desk is thankfully bare of any trinkets or pens, only papers, and while nothing jumps out at you, using the receipts give you a good idea of the yacht's route is a solid move regardless. The receipts from various stops along the way set up a decent trail from here to some port with enough accents in it's name to convince you it's European, maybe Danish. You stuff them in a baggy and pocket it, carrying on. You move your hand down the sides of the desk slowly, tapping every inch or so listening for the hollow thunk of a hidden compartment. It starts to feel fruitless until you get near the bottom, that hard oak rings hollow around the base.

You move to the front and pull the drawer that lines up only to be stopped short. Locked. A brass keyhole sitting in the center of each drawer. You slam your hand and let out a frustrated sigh.

"Since when has anyone actually used the locks on these things.." You mumble to yourself. Moving to test each other drawer until one slides free. It's contents are simple, as you reach in you feel the glossy exterior of a polaroid and pull it out. You catch the scent of crab, you feel a warm breeze on the back of your neck, and your skin prickles as you stare at the image.

A father and son. Mandragora and a boy who looks too similar to be anyone other than just that: his son. You stare.

His pale skin. His eyes a faded pink. His hair a dusty gray-blonde. A spitting image.

If this is his son then it should be SIM, you've seen bits and flashes of him from other's eyes but he never looked anything close to this boy. The age is off too, the back of the photo is dated. Only 3 years prior. But if SIM isn't the boy in this picture then why call him father? You rise with a frustrated sigh and slam the drawer. In the still air of the room it sounds like a gunshot but with the slightest... something afterwards. You open the drawer and slam it again. A rattle, no. A jingle. Metal on wood. Again you slam and you listen closely. It's low. You kneel and slam the drawer again.. the hollow space. It isn't IN the drawer it's beneath it. You run your fingers against the painted floor and find only enough space to wriggle your fingers beneath it, you shoulder check the desk and it juts a few inches. Nothing falls loose. You groan and stuff your hand further beneath the desk, your fingertips scraping and grazing the rough underside until it catches on something, or rather, it catches on nothing. A hole cut into the bottom, not large enough to fit anything more than a few fingers, you press firmly and ignore the burning pain forming over your stretched and mushed skin. Eventually getting a fingertip inside and swinging your index until your feel the hole start to move with you. As it moves you start to wonder how the hell he managed to hide this with his Christmas ham fists. A thought that is quickly overshadowed by the relieving sound of metal contacting metal.

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You pull out your sore and throbbing hand, the skin raw from being mashed into a space far too small, sending in the other to retrieve the key and get to unlocking. The lock turns like butter, a small click letting you know your pain was worth it, inside the largest of the drawers you see a small file.

A dark red folder has a single word in typewriter font scrawled upon it.

'Mandragora'

Opening it reveals a plethora of photos showing the same boy from the prior image, but taken from a distance discreetly, in various situations. Eating dinner, practicing a violin, sitting in a classroom. You can't help but notice all of these appear to be within the same building, the wall color and general style all matching. The final photo confirms your suspicion.

A massive walled villa nestled in a quiet countryside. Quiet, were it not for the men armed with rifles and sub-machine guns patrolling the walls.

Beneath the photos is another sheet of paper, letters cut from magazines and glued to the page read simply.

"We can help each other. Return to Gotham. Speak to Penguin."

Where the signature would be, you freeze, a stamp. The exact stamp Kent described to you. You set the file down and make sure to put all it's contents back, this could be useful. You know what's making Mandragora tick. You search the other drawers and find a few other items of note, a small leather notebook. Inside are various countries, counties, estates, and towns listed. One by one down the list they've been crossed off, all of them foreign, with this you also find a phone. A phone that makes bile rise in your throat. The same style of flip-burner that SIM gave you, Mandragora must have had a stock pile. You open it and hold the power button until a familiar screen lights up. You click to the contacts and..

Nothing. The contact log is empty, you click furiously through a few more menus and find the call history the exact same. No texts. No calls. No internet history. You flip the phone and pry back a thin layer of rubber to reveal what suspicion was starting to grow in you.

No SIM card.

You silently curse as you snap the phone close and toss it haphazardly to the desk. Was he here already? Or does Mandragora keep a SIM-less phone? The foreign travel makes a case for it maybe, but still... you can't help but feel disappointed you didn't get more. At the very least knowing you have some sort of leverage over Mandragora helps.

You give the desk and each drawer a once over before accepting that you've learned all you can from it. You put your head in your hands and sigh letting yourself slip into the oversized desk chair. You shake your head and prepare to head back to the top deck but when you open your eyes you're somewhere else.

No.. not quite. You're someTIME else, the rocking of the boat is far more choppy and the pale light of Gotham is replaced with the warm glow of the dock's lights shining in. Your hand is wrapped around the base of a large bottle, the other delicately clutching the corner of a photograph. The photograph of your boy. Tears sting your eyes and you grip the bottle so tightly you hear the faint cracklings of it's glass giving way to your grip. The sound of the door breaks you from this silent fury.

"Sir.." A man quietly inquires. "Bad time?"

You look over your shoulder. Angelo.

"No. Come in." You let the photo slip into the drawer and close it softly.

"First of all, welcome back." He begins. "I understand there's been some bumps but I'm working to-"

You hold up a hand to stop his bleating and take several gulps from your bottle. It burns like antiseptic and the aftertaste is floral and earthy. You sigh.

"I fully plan on leaving you in control of the Gotham operations, Angelo. No need to flagellate yourself, I understand that passing the reins means that more than a few of our associates will make their own moves. But I trust you to handle it, I always have."

He bows his head and nods in appreciation.

"Then could I ask what this visit IS regarding?"

"I need a meeting with Penguin."

"He prefers to go by Cobblepot now.." Angelo begins but seeing your face he shifts. "How soon?"

"As soon as possible, it concerns Edgar."

"Oh Jesus.. I'm still sorry to hear about that, boss. He was a good kid."

You clench your teeth and the bottle gives way to your power, exploding in a few shards and dribbling liquid. The alcohol soaks into your newly acquired wound but the sting only drives your anger.

"If you speak of my Edgar in the past-tense again, Angelo. I'll crumple your ribs like a can of beer." You manage to get out through clenched teeth.

Angelo doesn't respond. He simply stares at the floor and nods emphatically. Slowly he glances back up to you.

"Another bottle." You tell him.

Wordlessly he fetches another, this one a thirty year old scotch, you uncork the liquor and take a mighty swig.

"Penguin." You reiterate.

"Yes, boss. I'll get right on it. Should I get you a new crew?"

"They haven't seen anything, set them up with accommodations."

"Like hotels?"

You roll your eyes and ignore his idiotic question.

"I don't know how long I'll be staying in the city this time, but they've seen nothing. The crew is above board so make sure they're well taken care of until I sail back home." Your eyes glance over the sheets. You still can't read them but it's almost like an understanding of them is put in your head. The manifests for every ship that was in and out the day your boy was taken.

"Angelo.." You ask quietly. "Make sure the men are ready for trouble.. I don't know what I'm walking into with this meeting. Bring the boy."

"Slim? You don't think-"

A glance is all it takes.

"Will do, boss. He'll be glad, he's been asking about you."

"That's all." You reply, your mind far from that stray. You look to the closed drawer again and feel that burning in your chest. "Have him meet us at The Berkley. I want him off guard."

"Of course, boss. I'll make it happen." Angelo says quietly as he backs out of the room, his head kept low.

As Angelo closes the door you gingerly open the drawer once again and gaze at the photo.

"I'll find you." You whisper. Before taking another burning swig.

You blink.

Leaned back in the chair with a bottle gripped in your hand, it's cork thankfully still in place, you let out a few breaths and get your mind back under your own control. You didn't even try for that it just.. You shake your head again and stand abruptly. You need to get out of here, the faint sound of a child's voice, the flatline of an EKG, the smell of snow and dirt.

You burst onto the top deck, fighting to keep back gasping breaths. The fresh air flooding your lungs and bringing immediate relief like cold water on a burn. You savor it. Until a harsh noise enters your ear.

"You find anything good, kid? Cause I got jack." Kimble asks you in a rushed tone, his hands rubbing together like a fly. "Please tell me we have an idea of where to go and that it has central heating. I'm gonna lose my balls if we stay out here any longer. "

>"I got dirt on Mandragora and a lead, my shivers took over and showed me a memory. Seems like the Berkley is a bit of a safe space for them."
>"I have some leverage on Mandragora, his son is missing and Calc may have something to do with it. Found some papers that pointed out the Berkley too. We should check it out."
>"The Berkley, that's where. We can stay toasty in the car there at least. No evidence, nothing useful at least."
>Write-In

>>6128482
>"I have some leverage on Mandragora, his son is missing and Calc may have something to do with it. Found some papers that pointed out the Berkley too. We should check it out."

>>6128482
>>"I have some leverage on Mandragora, his son is missing and Calc may have something to do with it. Found some papers that pointed out the Berkley too. We should check it out."

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>>6128482
>>"I got dirt on Mandragora and a lead, my shivers took over and showed me a memory. Seems like the Berkley is a bit of a safe space for them."
No reason to lie to Kimble and say we got Berkley from some "papers". Wonder if we somehow run into Gorchakov there. Or somehow even more dirt on the guy.
>>6128056
>a bunch of anons making a lattice
It's just me stealing imagery from fear and hunger

>>6128482
>>"I got dirt on Mandragora and a lead, my shivers took over and showed me a memory. Seems like the Berkley is a bit of a safe space for them."

>>6128482
>write in
I vote for >"I have some leverage on Mandragora, his son is missing and Calc may have something to do with it. Found some papers that pointed out the Berkley too. We should check it out." option but I want to just mention all the berkley thing to Kimble just so he's on the same page.

>>6128482
>"I got dirt on Mandragora and a lead, my shivers took over and showed me a memory. Seems like the Berkley is a bit of a safe space for them."
I’d prefer mentioning the vision, especially since we told him we’d keep him in the loop with that.

>>6128555
>>6128566
>>6128956
>>6128955

"I got dirt on Mandragora and a lead, my shivers took over and showed me a memory. Seems like the Berkley is a bit of a safe space for them." You mention, patting your pocket that overflows with papers.

"Took over?" He parrots with a furrowing brow. "You got that under control?"

"I'm alright, just keeping you in the loop like you asked." You reply, pivoting to change the subject after he acknowledges with a small nod. "Looks like it hasn't been crewed in a while, everything is cleaned up and seems dead."

"I noticed that too, all the boxes on deck are locked up. Ropes are stowed, sails are down. She's been anchored for a while." He lets his eyes linger over the deck. "Nothing hidden except a few packs of smokes and some drinks."

"Well do you wanna go over the inside too?"

"Nah, we should get moving. I can see the dining room window from here and a crowd is starting to roll in. Won't be long before some rich fuck with a connect gets someone out here to talk to us."

"That's fine right?"

"Yeah but better to just avoid the trouble, plus I trust you. If Grey is willing to let you work a scene you probably didn't miss anything I'd find. Let's get back to the car, we can head to Berkley and camp out until we get word."

"You think we'll see him?"

"I think we need someplace to hunker down and that's as good as any other. Probably better."

You get yourself back to solid ground and re-stow the gangplank before any lingering eyes get too curious..

====

The rumble of the engine dies down just as Kimble wraps up the chorus to 'I Wanna Be Sedated'. The majority of the drive conversation relating to numb fingers, a re-treading of your vision, and a reading of the letter. After which Kimble requested some quiet time to digest the information, 'quiet' being loosely used since he's been belting out every song on this CD like he wrote it. As he slides his seat back he lets out a satisfied sigh and leans back.

"Uh.. Kimble?"

"What's up?"

"What're you doing?"

"Relaxing."

"Are we not going inside?"

He scoffs playfully and shakes his head.

"No. Check the file." He nods to the bag behind your seat and you spin around to open it and pull the thin file.

"You do this on your own?"

"Yup, Reiner gave me access to his personnel files and write up the profile. Peep the vehicle, you see that in the parking lot anywhere?"

"Looking for uh.. a hummer?" You make a face and look to Kimble who shrugs.

You glance up and shockingly a strip club at noon has more than a few cars lined up. But while most of them do have an air of sleaze to them, none have the particular air you're looking for.

"It isn't here, should we-"

He holds up a hand.

"Slow down, Mark. This is my domain, just follow my lead. We're fine here for now."

"But if he isn't here the-"

"Then he could be on his way here. Or on his way to Jersey. We won't know until the warrant drops and the BOLO with it."

You slump in your seat and tap your fingers on the door as Kimble leans into the same bag you pulled the file from and retrieves crinkling bag of pretzels. He settles into his seat and wastes no time ripping into the bag.

"Wun'sum?" He asks, spewing shards of pretzel before swallowing roughly. "They're cheddar."

You take a few and let them sit in your hand as you push them around with a finger. An old habit.

"Is this what we're doing until we hear something?"

"Or see something, he could always show up here." He gestures to the parking lot. "Do you not remember the last time we did a stake out?"

"No, I do.. it's just that one felt a little more. Involved."

"It's because for a good chunk of it you were doing your Urban Shaman thing. But that wasn't the same deal as this, we were scoping a place out before heading in."

"Is that not what we're doing here?"

He sighs and sets the bag down.

"Mark, even if Gorchakov showed up right now and walked into that bar holding hands with Penguin and giving him kisses on his long crooked nose. I still wouldn't get out of this car until the word for his warrant came through. If it makes it easier think of this like fishing, you said your pop took you fishing before."

"Yeah.." You mumble. "I see where you're coming from.. I just don't understand something."

"Let's see if I can, hit me."

"Why do YOU like this? You have a bag set up, your CDs, a specific car even. I thought you liked the action?"

"Oh I do. But nobody can go at 100% forever, the reason I'm so good when it is time to get physical is because I take my downtime seriously. I relax." He holds up a pretzel and smirks. "Plus this is what I trained for. 'Hurry up and wait' was my life for a good few years. I don't mind the downtime."

You gaze out the window again, scanning for any change but it's all as it was a few minutes ago. Kimble sighs aggressively and sits up a bit in his chair.

"Jesus Christ, kid. You're making ME antsy, how about some conversation? We can just shoot the shit for a bit and try to unlodge that stick Grey and the old man got lodged up there."

"I don't have a stick up my ass." You reply defensively.

"Yeah when was the last time you did anything fun? Fun AND not related to the job?"

"Come on, I do plenty."

"Tell me then." He taunts playfully.

"It's my business.."

"So you got nothing?"

You stare at him and he stares back, a friendly challenge.

"I went on a date the other day. It was nice.." You mumble.

Immediate regret washes over you along with a light wave of heat when you see the spark in Kimble's eyes.

"You got a girl? No shit, I always thought you were uh..." He wiggles his hand.

"What? Why?"

"Hey, easy. Nothing wrong with that, it's the modern day and all. You just seem to spend most of your time with guys is all."

"Co-workers." You correct him.

"Ah, so you DO work too much?"

"Oh, fuck off." You reply, breaking into a laugh.

"You know you gotta tell me about her, right? I gotta give her the sniff test."

"Not a chance in hell."

"Don't be like that, Mark. I just gotta make sure she's gonna treat you right is all." He answers in a joking plea.

"She'd pass your sniff test. You've uh.. already met her."

"No shit?" he sits up fully now. "Alright hit me, who is she?"

"Are you not listening to me?"

"I try not to." He replies with a shrug and a laugh. "Alright, alright. I get that this is a touchy subject for you, so you do me."

"I just told you I wasn't like that."

"Fuckin, ha. ha. I mean ask me something, I'll share. You share. it'll be like uh.."

"Like a teen girl's slumber party?"

"Hey, this is totally normal hetero-bro bonding, okay?" He replies seriously before sweeping his legs up and into a cross beneath him and speaking in a valley-girl accent. "Now are you gonna ask me about my hot gossip or not?"

You shake your head laughing at this clown show and give him your answer.

>"Not gonna happen, Kimble. I'll take my turn with the CD player though." (Time skip)
>"What about you? Got someone steady waiting at home for you or are you enjoying Gotham's bachelorette pool?
>"What was your most embarrassing moment on the job? Hawthorne told me this one about 'Ahab'"
>"Tell me about your first kill, I'm guessing it wasn't with the GCPD."
>"What was the army like? Were you a model soldier or what?"
>Write-In (Encouraged)

And

>Anything else you want to ask Kimble while you wait?


Tiny note that there will be an extra update Saturday night around the usual time.

>>6129065
>>"What about you? Got someone steady waiting at home for you or are you enjoying Gotham's bachelor pool?

>Mark can't relax for the life of him
>Kimble delivers peak grunt bants when he's in his relaxed mode
Kino

>>6129065
>"What about you? Got someone steady waiting at home for you or are you enjoying Gotham's bachelorette pool?
>"What was your most embarrassing moment on the job? Hawthorne told me this one about 'Ahab'"

We have him over a barrel. Two for one now, bucko.

>>6129127
Let's hope we don't have to tell him about Cobra

>"So how unusual is my experience as a Rookie? Gotham isn't really your typical city, so I don't exactly know how strange my experience is from what counts as somewhat normal."

>>6129065
+1 >>6129204

>>6129163
The other cops hiss when Mark walked into a room.

He knows.

>>6129204
+1

>>6129105
IMO the banter is the best part, nice to see Kimble relaxed too. I guess he's in his element

>>6129065
>"What about you? Got someone steady waiting at home for you or are you enjoying Gotham's bachelorette pool?

>>6129105
It's peak, as they say.

>>6129099
>>6129127
>>6129204
>>6129230
>>6129284
>>6130055

"Well what about you? Got someone waiting at home for you or are you enjoying Gotham's bachelorette pool?"

"Oh you're gonna turn this on me?"

You hit him with the 'it is what it is' shrug and gesture back to him. He sucks his teeth and seems to contemplate for a few seconds before answering.

"I'm not dating anyone right now, but that doesn't mean I don't get out."

"Took a second for that one."

"Here it comes, go ahead detective."

"I didn't say anything. Just.. interesting that it took you a minute." You prod.

"I MIGHT have my eye on someone, but it's nothing I can go for, so I treat it like eating or drinking. When I want sex I go have sex."

"Dude.."

"You fucking asked, Boot. Don't get prudish with me, I didn't even tell you that my longest relationship was my hand and an old magazine."

"TMI, jesus." You reply crinkling your nose.

"Our special place was the porta john behind the Barracks.." He says wistfully as he crunches on another pretzel.

"I get it!" You reply, breaking into a laugh. "Jesus man, you're a dog."

"Only God can judge me, Catholic boy." He leans against the driver window and nods. "Your turn now, tell me about this PYT you've been seeing under all our noses."

"I havent 'been seeing' her. I saw her, for the first time, pretty recently."

"Mhm.. but you said I knew her."

"Not personally but uh.. she's a fire fighter. Name's Allison"

"Experience on a pole, that's a plus." He mumbles, you slap the bottom of his pretzel bag and send a few jumping up into the air. He curls into a defensive posture and cradles the bag. "My bad."

"Uh-huh. She was working the cannon that shot Firebug out of the air, she called the front desk and asked to make sure I was okay so I just took her out for pizza."

"For pizza?"

"Uh, yeah. Angelo's by-"

"I know Angelo's, good slice and not too expensive. Not a bad pick, first date?"

"Kind of? We'd hung out before at a bar, just a beer and some conversation."

"Oooooh." He lets out in a high pitched coo. "Look at you go, kid. If anyone can make it work with the job it's your straight and narrow ass."

"Make it work? Is it really that hard?"

"Usually it is for rookies, the time they spend on probation before getting into their true blues is usually a little much to handle with a woman in the mix."

"Huh.." You reply, a question bubbling from the back of mind to the tip of your tongue. "So how unusual is my experience as a rookie? Gotham isn't really.. normal, so I don't really know where I fall on the scale."

Kimble pauses and takes a moment to crunch on another handful of pretzels as he mulls over your question, dipping the opening invitingly you take him up on it and get a few more for yourself. After a minute and some change he finally swallows and replies.

"Well. You got lucky, in a way, with pulling Hawthorne as your TO."

"In a way?"

"He likes to do a lot of bullshit." He mumbles past a fresh mouthful. "House calls, random dispatches, you know. Side projects."

You nod in agreeance.

"I don't mind, I like it actually. I feel like I've already got a lot of experience."

"That's the lucky part, the one that bites you in the ass is the 'in a way' I threw in there. He's big on learning by doing but there's a lot of book work that goes into the job too. How to properly fill out forms, radio etiquette, press relations, and the fucking after reports." He groans. "He taught me a lot but most of that shit I had to find out on my own time, he's a great teacher don't get me wrong, but if all you do to practice for your driving test is drive then you're still gonna flunk it."

"Reiner mentioned that when he was reaming us in his office the other day."

Kimble nods deeply.

"I fucking know, he's always so quiet and stern but you get him worked up and it's like you can see steam coming out of his nose. I get where he's coming from but fuck me it turns a guy off of Admin work in the future."

"Thankfully I've got a head for the ink and paper side of things, a lot of nights in the academy I just spent working off my books. Still a lot of 'common sense' things I'm still picking up though. Like.." You pause, slightly embarrassed. "Like we did an interview the other day, for this, and when I wrap it up he asks me about my notes."

"Did you record the interview?"

"Fuck off, you too?"

"Brother.." He begins but just trails off into a head shaking laugh. "It's comforting to know you can fuck up sometimes. That's a classic though, I got dinged by him once for leaving the safety off my pistol once so don't feel too bad, it's a learning experience."

"Why leave the safety off?"

"Old habit." He replies stiffly before pivoting the conversation. "Working with the old man taught me a lot though, granted he was less old back then, but time just adds to wisdom or some shit like that, right?"

"Something like that." You reply, trying to shake off the awkwardness you wandered into for a brief moment.

"There was plenty of time I wasn't a fan of his though."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, man thinks he's the end all authority on most topics. When he gets locked in on something he has a habit of getting caught up in the noise, that's a phrase he taught me, he's almost reckless. The way he runs around like he's still fresh out of the academy, I don't think he'll ever put the badge down if it's left up to him.." Kimble's eyes go distant as he speaks. You hear murmuring voices, Hawthorne. Kimble. The warm glow of the sun. The speckles of a ladybug. You blink.

"At the same time he's got a way with words. He's like if cavemen got to the point of philosophy, it's simple but the way he puts it just really wedges it in your brain. He's good like that. But that's the same reason he's still working a beat despite all his years on, not a knock or anything, but a simple man isn't an ambitious one."

"Not everyone needs more."

"You're right about that, like I said it's not a knock against him, it's just that his attitude has a way of rubbing off on people. I mean hell, Grey never took the leap to Detective until Hawthorne got assigned to a desk after.." He trails off awkwardly, you just nod. You know. "Yeah. He's got a way of making you think you can change the world from the street up."

"Why can't we?"

Kimble looks at you with no small amount of surprise, but there's a warmth behind it. An admiration.

"Who says you can't?" He answers.

You both go quiet and Kimble fishes out a water bottle from the bag and tosses one to you. You crack the seal and down a few gulps before Kimble re-engages.

"So what do you think?"

"Huh?"

"About Hawthorne. In general."

"He's great." You say simply.

"Come on man, say more than that. No judgment here, I'm genuinely curious. You coming back into the fold is the only reason I've been around so I guess I'm just curious how he is now that it's five years down the road."

>What do you think about Mitch Hawthorne? (Be honest?)

and

>Any other questions or things you wanna touch on with Kimble before we move on?

Author Note Below:

Apologies for this being later than anticipated but I hope it was worth the wait. I love getting to have these human moments between people, I think it's my strong point for writing, and I love even more when you guys chime in with things even as small as 'Kino'. It always gives me a smile when I see stuff like that.

I wanted to leave this vote open-ended to encourage some Write-ins and general conversation about what you guys think Mark's overall impression on Hawthorne is now. Long and detailed or short and sweet. It's been long enough that I think we can do it and I can feel a little more secure in how I write Mark's dialogue about him with other characters. This is also kind of a re-touching of what you guys said before on his evaluation form in the start of the quest, now that Mark has some actual field experience with him now both on and off the clock. Really looking forward to seeing the responses for this. See you soon.

>>6130224
>It seems like he can only really do one thing (be big and loud), but he does it very well and it works out most of the time instead of making everything worse.
When we're interrogating he's the bad cop(although, with Mark everyone is a bad cop), when we went to search the prison, his distraction was "to start a loud conflict", he tried to fistfight Q, probably some more things I forgot.
Hawthorne is a red skill maxxer. Based, tbdesu.

>>6130216
>"Experience on a pole, that's a plus."
Kimble, lmao. You know, before he seemed intense and kind of cold, what's with his use of informants and demand to meet our vigilanties in person to "look 'em in the eye". I didn't know he was chill like that.
(That was him, right? I might be mixing up names)

>>6130307
Yeah, that was him. He's just a military lad, work hard/play hard type. A warrior.

>>6130224
>...I think Grey's right. Hawthorne will die on the beat, being a cop. I think it's what he wants. I don't know if I blame him, and I definitely don't pity him for it. He's a hardass for the right reasons, doing what he loves, and what he loves is this job.

>>6130697
>>6130307
+1

Gonna leave this up for longer than usual to give people a chance to toss in a few suggestions if they want to ask Kimble anything else. I'll make up missed time in another update this week in exchange, hope that's fine with you guys.

>>6130224
>...I think Grey's right. Hawthorne will die on the beat, being a cop. I think it's what he wants. I don't know if I blame him, and I definitely don't pity him for it. He's a hardass for the right reasons, doing what he loves, and what he loves is this job.

Ask Kimble about his favorite/craziest cop story.

>>6130867
Yeah do this too

>>6130307
>>6130697
>>6130701
>>6130867
>>6131076

"Honestly... I think Grey's right."

"Oh?"

"Hawthorne will die on the beat, being a cop. I think it's what he wants and I don't know if I blame him, hell I definitely don't pity him for it. He's a hardass for the right reasons, he does what he loves and he loves the job."

"He sure does.." Kimble adds on. "Pretty damn good at it too."

"Yeah, I mean. I've only ever seen him do one thing and that's be big and loud and.."

"Be Hawthorne."

"Exactly." You reply with a chuckle. "To be fair though he does it well and it works out instead of making things worst."

"Ha." He drops with a shake of his head. "If only."

"Oh? I was gonna ask you if you had any good stories to pass the time anyways. Got one with Hawthorne?"

"You've heard the phrase 'Bull in a china shop' before right?"

"Oh man.." You settle in.

"Disturbance at a place in the Diamond District, typical stuff, customer has an issue with the price and refuses to leave. We pull up and it's this uh... boutique or something that sold vases and cups and whatever. Y'know, blown glass.."

"My mom had some stuff like that, kept water for her plants."

"Right, so anyways we get there and the guy is wigging out. Apparently he was looking to get something for a girlfriend or a fiance or something and he can't afford their cheapest thing. It was this little glass bird." He holds up his fingers, no further apart than a ping pong ball. "She was charging fifty bucks for the thing and this guy can't afford it. Which of course means it's our problem."

"How big was this 'disturbance'? Your usual Gotham loud-mouth or worse?"

"Well that's the thing, the guy is hollering so loud we can hear him outside the store. We get inside and catch the tail end of their screaming and that's when she sticks a finger in this guys face and tells us to get this 'bum' out of her store. Dude doesn't like that so he pulls back and slaps the SHIT out of her, I mean that shit sounded like a homerun. There was a snap to it."

"Goddamn.." You mumble, caught up in your own visualization of the story. "What happened then?"

"What'd you think? Hawthorne starts right up and marches up to the guy, he turns around and goes sheet white at the sight of the old man, guy throws up his hands and starts yelling 'It was open hand, it was open hand, I'm sorry!' really pathetic shit." Kimble mimes the gestures and raises his voice a few octaves, the entire time he shakes his head laughing. "So then.. then Hawthorne tells him 'You wanna slap box? Try it on me, see how it goes for you.' like he's Clint Eastwood. Grabs the guy by his shirt and yanks him around going 'Wait over there' as he chucks him towards me. I guess to cuff up or whatever."

"Sounds like him, he likes a hands on approach."

"You're telling me, he man-handled this punk. Threw him too hard or maybe he had rollerskates for feet because he goes ass over as soon as he's shoved."

"Oh no.."

"Oh, yeah. Straight into a shelf." He drops his hands dramatically. "Wooosh. Glass. Fucking. Everywhere."

"The owner?"

"Losing her shit. Hawthorne has a face like he just drank from the dip bottle and the store looks like SWAT did a dynamic through a church window, the entire time I'm standing over this guy while he's groaning and bitching. The owner starts screeching and I just.. scoop the guy up and walk out."

"You walk out!?"

"Hey, I was following orders okay. I gave him his rights and put him in the back of the shop."

"And Hawthorne?"

"Got yelled at for about five minutes straight before he asked her if 'these knick-knacks were even worth anything' and that's about the time she asked for a supervisor."

"What was the blowback?"

"A civil suit against the GCPD for the damage to her art and shop, plus emotional damage, and the real bitch of it was she didn't even end up pressing charges on the slapper. Upside though is that I got to be the next room over as Hawthorne got the most ass blistering smoking I've ever heard. Reiner blew his voice for two days when he was done screaming at him"

"You remember any of it?"

"Something about doing shit by the book, he proposed that maybe if he crammed the book up his ass he'd have a better understanding of it. He even asked me if I wanted to drop Hawthorne as my TO."

"What'd you say?"

"No, of course. There wasn't anyone else who could teach me there anyways, at least not before his little 'come to Jesus' moment he gave me." Kimble sits back and sighs. "Good times, honestly."

You both sit back and enjoy the silence, Kimble reflecting on his time as a rookie and yourself going through your own experiences. The lessons.

Chan fucked me over. Despite writing the final part of the post and hitting "Post" I guess it decided not too. So. *ahem*

====

You both fall into a comfortable silence, fueled by your daydreams of times past, enjoying the time to think.

An hour passes... then two... dotted through is some more conversation, more than a few of the CDs, and eventually you resort to just scrolling your phone while giving the parking lot an occasional wayward eye. This peace and boredom maintains until a handheld radio crackles to life from the bag, muffled by snacks, drinks, magazines, and a very comfortable looking blanket.

"Kimble. DeLucia. Check in." Reiner's firm tone announces through the waves of static.

"Copy, Commander. What's the word."

"The hammer is coming down, the warrant is active and you're clear to engage and detain if you see your suspect."

"Rog, any other intel?"

"BOLO is still going out to trusted officers due to the sensitivity of the situation. When we have a sighting we'll let you know. Until then just keep doing what you're doing."

"Won't be a problem sir." Kimble replies, letting the radio fall from his hand back into the bag.

You look to him expectantly but he leans back in his chair and closes his eyes. Your legs twitch and you have a sudden desire for fresh air.

>"Can I go in now? Just to ask around, maybe get a lead? Now that the warrant is out?"
>"Should we maybe drive around a bit? Get a little more central to Gotham for the call?"
>Stifle your anxiety and sit silently, Kimble knows what he's doing with this.
>Write-In

>>6131303
>>Stifle your anxiety and sit silently, Kimble knows what he's doing with this.

>>6131303
>Stifle your anxiety and sit silently, Kimble knows what he's doing with this.

>>6131303
>>Stifle your anxiety and sit silently, Kimble knows what he's doing with this.
Actually just chill. Going into the Berkley seems useless, our yacht vision was about events that happened months(?) ago. Mark is just used to shit happening all the time. Gorchakov is unlikely to show up here, why would he? To ask the remanants of the Mandragora gang for help with getting out of the city? Nah
Next big thing is the lab I think, and that's gonna be after we're done with Gorchakov. It'll be waay too late by then, and it'll all be cleaned up, but we can trip balls, we'll find something.

>>6131549
+1

>>6131303
>Stifle your anxiety and sit silently, Kimble knows what he's doing with this.
Unless Kimble wants us on Shivers duty now, but he's a bit of a Shievrs-skeptic.

>>6131309
>>6131345
>>6131549
>>6131674
>>6131702

You open your mouth to offer a suggestion, a direction to go, a person to speak with, a location to scour, but ultimately you simply lean back and remain silent. Kimble seems to have found a strange niche in Stakeouts, maybe this is a time to learn and pick up a few tricks from him?

You lean back in your own seat and watch him, keeping an eye close, you let the background fade away and feel a slight buzz in the base of your skull as you observe.. He's nonchalant. Calm. He steadily reads the magazine that he has splayed over his leg but you notice something interesting. The slow smooth movement of his eyes isn't consistent. There's moments where his eyes flicker away, firing up, and locking on like a predator. Every new car that enters the lot has his eyes flick away, watch for a few seconds, and then returning to the magazine as he silently mouths something to himself before resuming his reading. Same goes for every time the door opens, someone walks by, or a loud noise sounds.

You observe his positioning. While he looks comfortable the more interesting thing you noticed was that in moments of activity that Kimble showed no change of posture even once. If you hadn't been watching his eyes specifically you'd have never even realized he even took note. You watch a few more seconds and he repeats the behavior as a man exits the club and stumbles off, day drunk and poorer for it, his goofy stumble down the street catches your attention more than Kimble's reaction and as you look back at him you see he's now staring at you.

"Are you doing it?"

"What?"

"The voodoo you do." He says in joking tone, but you can see a tenseness in his jaw. You can feel a pinhead of displeasure at the idea.

"No, I was.. observing your technique, I guess. What is that you were doing?"

He closes the magazine and smiles, relief more than evident.
"Not much to it, just checking things out when they come in."

"What's the mumbling about?"

"Ah, just an old trick. Learned it from an army buddy, it's nothing special it's just saying it to myself."

"Say what?"

"Whatever I saw." He tosses the magazine and sits up closing his eyes. "Pick a car in this parking lot. Just humor me."

"Uh.. Red one closest to the front entrance."

"Four Door Sedan, Red, Plate number Whiskey-Golf-Delta-8671." He opens his eyes as he finishes and smiles. "It's not much compared to what you can do, but it's good for the job."

"It's way more impressive, my Shivers just kind of.. work, whether I want it or not, most of the time. You've got a really useful skill."

He waves a hand.
"It's nothing you couldn't do with some practice, I had a head start by combo'ing hyper vigilance and caffeine dependency. Try it out."

"Try it out?"

"Mhm, none of your fancy tricks. Shut em up if you can and just rely on yourself and your brain."

"I don't.."

"Mark, just work with me here. Learn something that'll serve you when your 'spirits' go all wack."

You frown but know he's right. You nod.

"Alright, now give the parking lot a glance. Look any longer than two seconds and I'll make you wait until someone new shows up to do it again. We'll start easy with color."

You follow his instructions and look over the lot, letting your eyes drag across each car before squeezing them shut. Blooming circles of deep purple appear in the void behind your eyes as you whisper to yourself like a mantra.

"Black, Grey, Yellow, Tan, Red, Blue, Black, Black."

"Whispering a little loud but you've got it. Now let's test."

The next hour or so is filled with him sharing you his tricks for memory and gives you a few pointers on how to best use your peripheral vision when conducting manhunts or stakeouts.

"Rarely is something or someone gonna come at you head on, you need to keep your head on a swivel and I mean that. Don't just rely on your eyes, use your neck, clear your corners for Christ's sake. For stakeouts it's less about knowing WHERE to look it's about looking at as much as possible. Positioning is the name of the game, you wanna be inconspicuous, and the first thing that draws someone's eye is movement. So move as little as possible until you have to..."

It's as Kimble gets into the weeds on outfit choice when the radio crackles again and you feel a ripple of flesh up your arm and down your spine as the words get out.

"Kimble, Suspect spotted at a gas station on the East End. Moving south-bound."

"Received, thanks for the word, Finn. Keep the BOLO open until we confirm he's wrapped up. If anyone calls in a Continental hauling ass have dispatch wave em off."

"Understood, good luck."

Kimble releases the button and chucks his personal items into the backseat, cranks the ignition, and hits the road staying true to his word. The ride is smooth and Kimble gets out of the main network of Gotham's streets as quick as he can. The outer roads that surround Gotham like a membrane are his aim and he hits it. Avoiding center city traffic you start the rotation to the East End.

"Mark, we might be running into this prick here soon. So I wanna ask you how we're handling him."

"What? Isn't that your thing, you've nabbed more perps on these than I have."

"You aren't wrong but at the same time I don't KNOW this guy. You do, you've.. seen what he's gotten up to. Heard more about how he acts. This can go easy or hard for us but it's all about the approach."

"Kimble I really-"

"I am asking for your opinion. Cop to cop. Partners."

You close your mouth and nod. Pulling on all you know about Gorchakov before telling Kimble..

>"He's a cop killer, I've seen it. If we drop our guard for a second.. we should go at him hard. Guns out and we don't take off the pressure until he's cuffed and disarmed."
>"He's up his own ass, so much so that he might be blind to a play if it strokes his ego. Let's approach him casually. A chance meeting that I wanna make into something more, he offered me a job before. Maybe he's still looking for a gopher?"
>"He's weak willed. Cigarettes, booze, women, respect. He wants whatever he can get. Let's approach him casually, just two cops hanging out on their day off and you invite him along with us. Dealer's choice on where we're going."
>"He's a coward and paranoid, I'm worried if he sees us he'll bolt. We should tail him when we find him, wait for him to box himself in and strike then."
>Write-In

>>6131977
>"He's a coward and paranoid, I'm worried if he sees us he'll bolt. We should tail him when we find him, wait for him to box himself in and strike then."

>>6131977
>"He's a cop killer, I've seen it. If we drop our guard for a second.. we should go at him hard. Guns out and we don't take off the pressure until he's cuffed and disarmed."

>He's egotistical, so he may not immediately clock on we are there to get him, thinking he's that far above us. But he's also paranoid. If we approach him and say the wrong thing too soon, he's bolting. And if he can't...he's a cop killer. In that situation, if we can't maintain pressure on him when he's not in cuffs then he'll certainly try something - very likely aiming for lethal.

Well shit, all of those are technically correct. You know, he is a cop killer, but also a coward. He shot his partner in the back after all. I *think* he won't draw on sight. So here goes nothing, let's hope he doesn't know about BOLO yet.
>>6131977
>"He's up his own ass, so much so that he might be blind to a play if it strokes his ego. Let's approach him casually. A chance meeting that I wanna make into something more, he offered me a job before. Maybe he's still looking for a gopher?"
>Tell him we wanna make it into detectives, possibly UC. We did great as the undercover guy in the big sting after all (play up pride).
>Maaybe hint that we wanna make a big name on the SIM killer investigation while the "opportunity" is there (play up ambition).
>BUT warn Kimble that he shot his partner in the back previosly. Do not fucking relax in his presence.

>>6132091
Anon, that's not a bad read, but also you forgot to write what to *do*, you only wrote *don't*s.

>>6131977
>>"He's a coward and paranoid, I'm worried if he sees us he'll bolt. We should tail him when we find him, wait for him to box himself in and strike then."

>>6132096
>"He's a coward and paranoid, I'm worried if he sees us he'll bolt. We should tail him when we find him, wait for him to box himself in and strike then."

>>6131977
>"He's a coward and paranoid, I'm worried if he sees us he'll bolt. We should tail him when we find him, wait for him to box himself in and strike then."

This fucker is gonna bolt the second he sees us, isn’t he?

>>6132141
Add on: warn Kimble that he killed his partner, be ready for him to make a move when he’s cornered.

>>6131977
>"He's a coward and paranoid, I'm worried if he sees us he'll bolt. We should tail him when we find him, wait for him to box himself in and strike then."
Do what >>6132143 said too. We go with the "he's coward and paranoid" angle but we stay on guard if he tries to kill us when cornered. Telling Kimble the Shivers vision about Free and what really happened in that basement should be enough for him to know immediately

>>6132006
>>6132127
>>6132130
>>6132141
>>6132143
>>6132343
>>6132096

"He's a coward and paranoid, I'm worried if he sees us he'll bolt."

"Off the bat?"

"Would you stick around if you were dirty as shit and saw YOU walking up to him with the Rookie who helped put his real boss in a cell?"

"Good point. Makes it easy though, I don't mind a chase."

"Yeah well.. every chase comes to a point where you corner them or they get away and if we back him into a corner.." You trail off, you can feel ever so slightly the radiating heat of the bullets that landed in Free's back.

"Don't get coy with me now, what's up?"

"I saw him in a vision.. he killed his old partner. Shot him in the back, let him bleed out." You shake your head, dispelling the images in your mind. "We should tail him when we find him, wait for him to box himself in, and strike then. But even if it looks like we have him dead to rights don't relax for a fucking second."

Kimble's jaw sets and his grip on the wheel tightens.

"Understood." He says simply. "I'll keep distance once we get eyes on. Then it's the waiting game."

You let your hand rest on the grip of your revolver, a gift from Hawthorne and a surprising object of comfort, hopefully you won't have to use it..

====

"Is that his car?" You blurt out, pointing a finger. "I recognize it."

"Put your damn hand down, don't draw attention to us. Double check the plate."

You pull the file and read it out-loud confirming your suspicion. After scouring the East End for nearing twenty minutes you'd started to get worried you wouldn't catch up to him but now you have a rock in your stomach thinking about what could go down when you do actually catch up to him. For now though, there's nothing but the trail.

Kimble slides into Gorchakov's lane, more than enough spaces back.

"Shouldn't we be a bit closer?"

"He's a cop." Kimble says flatly. "He knows the book as well as we do, so sometimes the plan that works the best is the one that's less effective while being unexpected. For now we just watch him.."

You maintain your trail as Gorchakov makes a variety of stops. Corner stores, Laundromats, Arcades, and whatever other small businesses manage to thrive in one of the city's worst areas. You notice the same thing every time, he's always clutching the same leather pouch. About the size of a handbag and fastened with string.

"Is he.. is he doing collections right now?"

"Hm. Maybe, not sure who he'd be kicking up to with Mandragora in jail."

"Who said he's kicking anything up?" You offer. "He could be just collecting as usual not letting anyone else know that anything's changed."

"Mandragora's lieutenants wouldn't let that slide."

"After that massacre in the narrows I don't think he has any lieutenants."

Kimble glances to you and raises a brow.

"SIM contacted me again, after Hawthorne went to the scene. Said he did it, said the bodies were Mandragora's men. Including his right hand."

"No shit?" Kimble mumbles, turning his gaze back on the closing door of Gorchakov's vehicle. "He can't have too many more. If you're collecting cash then eventually you need to deposit it, we follow him long enough and we'll find where he keeps his piggy bank."

"You want to get him there?"

"Maybe. I don't like away games and Grey already told me about the IED that you two almost ran into, no way to know if his deposit spot is rigged or has a couple headcrackers waiting around to count and ferry the cash."

"So do we wait for him to leave?"

"We play it by ear.." He mumbles, almost to himself as he focuses on keeping a consistent tail.

====

Another twenty minutes and another set of stores visited. The pouch was now obviously bloated, leaving a lump in his coat, after getting it settled you watch him pull a pack of cigarettes from his right inner pocket and light up.

"Get down." Kimble says, grabbing your shoulder and ducking. You allow him to drag you below the dashboard as he pulls out his phone.

"What? Did he see us?"

"No, but if he's taking a cigarette break there's nothing to do but people watch and think about shit." He clicks his camera and just barely allows his lens to peek over the dash. Using two fingers he zooms in on a blurry blob letting out streams of smoke.

"This is pretty slick. What happened to not being a thinker?"

"Picked this up from a Ranger I split cigs with. He was a mooch but what he made up for it with tips and tricks.." He whispers, focusing on the phone silently until you see the blob extend a dark leg and snuff the butt out and pop the driver door.

You both sit up slowly as the tail-lights flare and the car lurches off.

"We're close." You say quietly. Feeling a familiar cold tingle up and down your arms.

"Closer than you think." Kimble replies pointing forward.

No more than a block down you see Gorchakov's car swing a left into an alleyway between a set of apartments and a bombastic building with jutting striking architecture. The white sign, now stained yellow, reading proudly.

'MONARCH THEATER'

Kimble passes by that same alley and you peer around him, exhaust clouds the alley but deep within you see the red glow of his lights go out. As you get a glimpse at the front you see the old theater door's boarded shut. Tattered and faded police tape flutters in tatters around the corners. The windows that would display posters is busted out and a large grafitti tag of a jester with a lip splitting grin tagged inside steals that place. You shudder as the sound of metal dragging across concrete faintly plays in the back of your mind.

"He's stopping here." You say quietly. "He's using the theater."

"Your voices?" Kimble inquires.

"Mixed with intuition."

"Good enough for me." Kimble replies as he pulls into a parallel spot and turns his mirror to monitor the way you came. "What are you feeling, partner?"

"About Gorchakov?"

"About how you wanna handle him. We could always let him leave but like I said there could be other runners in there and he wasn't packing petty cash. Whatever he's taking from these people." Kimble gazes at the surroundings, most buildings with no fewer than four broken windows, countless cars on blocks, and more gang tags than you even recognize. "Whatever he's taking they need it a hell of a lot more than he does and it could vanish."

"Couldn't they just get it back by asking town hall or the department?"

Kimble gives you a glance that's a mix of pity and understanding.

"I know if it was up to you they'd get it back day of. But that's not how the paper pushers handle it, likely case is that they'll be denied by town hall because they didn't contact the authorities themselves. Not to mention that money is, technically speaking, evidence. Not that we need any more of that, but even if Gordon grabbed Dent by the scruff and made him fast track it until the case is done and dusted and he's gone for good then they'll never see that money."

Kimble keeps breaking his eyes from you to scan the neighborhood and every time he does you see disgust sinking deeper into his features. You can fee it radiating from him very gently. Shame.

>"Let's go in, I have your back and shivers has mine. Just focus on getting him locked down as quickly as possible."
>"We don't have to go in to stop him here, we can set up an ambush for when he or any gophers come out. We just sit on the car."
>"We can't risk him getting away, if he gets into the wind he'll vanish. We play it cool and just track him until we have a more solid chance to actually nab him."
>Write-In

>>6132696
>"Let's go in, I have your back and shivers has mine. Just focus on getting him locked down as quickly as possible."

>>6132696
>"Let's go in, I have your back and shivers has mine. Just focus on getting him locked down as quickly as possible."

As an addendum: move our car so he’s parked in. If he leaves, he leaves on foot. Also call in his location over the radio, I don’t want to take any chances.

>>6132696

+1
>>6132714

Does it actually work like that? If you got money blackmailed out of you and then cops find it, you're not getting it back?
Well, anyway.
>>6132696
+1 >>6132696

Maybe if the case goes THAT fast, we could just "find" all this money afterwards? Idk how police works.