=====

"Basic overview of it all? Bring Mandragora back to Gotham or Vic is gonna ask me to kill someone with him. Those are the ways he'd trust me, at least enough to get the jump on him."

"And you're positive that you couldn't convince him any other way?"

"I really don't know, sir." You answer honestly. "He really WANTS us to be friends or partners or whatever. But honestly I could see him going over the edge..."

Reiner sighs and puts an elbow on his desk as he opens his drawer and pulls out a blister pack of medication. He pops a light pink pill free and swallows it dry. He takes another few seconds leafing through the papers you dropped off before he looks up at you.

"What about the mother?"

"What about her?"

"You saw her die, correct? In a vision?"

"I did, but I don-"

"And Mandragora had the body cleaned up didn't he? There's no record of her in our morgue systems, unless she was a cold case. But if that's so then Rogers wouldn't have any idea either. He didn't see her die either, did he?"

"No? I'm sorry but, I'm not following, sir." You ask with a tilted head.

"What if we told him his mother was alive?" He asks flatly. "She was in witness protection or maybe she changed her name and moved away but we found her through some federal connection like ARGUS?"

"Uh.. that would be..." You settle on the word 'wrong' but you don't say it.

"Unsavory." Reiner finishes for you. "I don't love the idea but you have to admit it could be effective for someone as emotionally driven as he is."

"It could also drive him even more insane." You pushback lightly.

"If we get him in cuffs he can be as insane as he wants with mandatory treatment and therapy." He leans back in his seat. "You know him best, but I think it's best of we talk to the commissioner with a plan in mind."

>"I was going to ask Gordon to pull some strings to get Mandragora back in the city. I know it's a lot to ask but I think it's the best option we have."
>"I think we should send me with him to 'save' someone. He'll have a split focus and it gives me the best chance of surprising him. Even if it is risky."
>"His mom. It's a soft spot, a really soft spot. I think if we dangle that bait he'll definitely bite it... but if we don't manage to bring him in? God..."
>Write-In

We're so back!

I am struggling to decide on a vote, and trying to think outside of the box a little. Anons, please advise:

Would it be wise to possibly use our connection with Constantine to put Vic in contact with his deceased mother, if that's even possible?

Alternatively, would it be wise for us to use the time we bought to coordinate something with Q and Huntress - if we agree to go 'save' someone with Zsasz, tipping the two of them off and maybe wearing a tracker or something(?) would allow for them to intercept. His powers don't seem as developed as I had thought, in some ways. I do think if we tried to lean on SWAT or detectives, he would see them coming from a mile, and if we tried to take him down fully one on one it's a big risk... I would be pretty surprised if he isn't flatly superior to Mark as a fighter. Huntress and Q are more agile/flexible/stealthy than cops and may be able to close in, and the three of us could make the arrest. We could use our powers to possibly anticipate or just estimate where/how to position them?

>>6395775
>Try Constantine
Very smart! Maybe he can show Zsasz that his mom isn't the one behind his powers and that the forces telling him to kill aren't heaven-sent.

>Huntreds & Q
A great fallback.

>>6395767
>You have some contacts who might be able to help out... But Reiner's going to have to okay their involvement, and some (all) of their methods are unconventional
I just think trying to pull the fake mom gambit on a psychic psycho is a bad plan.

>>6395781
I’ll +1 this.

>”…sir, would this be a situation to consider alternative methods? Because I have some contacts that can help if we are.”
>”Also, I noticed that there’s an area in a graveyard where the voices were quieted. Grave of a Captain Logerquist. We could use it as a way to mute his powers, make it harder for him or his “voice” to pick up our intentions, and give him an area for him to frequent for us to plan accordingly.”

>>6395781
>>6395915
+1

>>6395781
>>6395915
Alright, if you guys are behind it, then let's maybe try it out, I will +1 both of these, including the Captain mention.

>>6396067
I am
>>6395775
Ftr
I move around a bunch and mobile post so my ID changes

>>6395915
+1

>>6395781
>>6395915
>>6396066
>>6396067
>>6396121

You settle in the silence. Commander Reiner doesn't seem to mind, waiting patiently with his own fingers steepled loosely on his desktop. He watches you with curiosity but he makes no attempt to rush you.

"Sir." You get out after a minute or so of quiet contemplation. "Maybe this is a situation that calls for... alternative methods."

"Such as?" He asks, his expression still stone-faced.

"I have contacts that could help us, if we were open to the idea."

"Contacts like your so called PI?"

Your heart sends out a pulse of cold blood. Honestly it makes sense he saw through that. The main thing that stops you from feeling too bad is the slight shake of his head that hides a smirk.

"Yes, sir." You offer quietly. "But I also know others. A man by the name of Constantine helped me, the tumor was uh... him."

"He's a doctor and a cape?"

"Not exactly he's a... magician."

His brows furrow beneath the thick plastic rim of his glasses.

"That right? You mean..." He gestures vaguely in the air.

"Real magic. He uh... got the tumor out."

"A magic doctor, then?" Reiner says. "Strange."

"Not a doctor. Bit of a dick actually, but if he can do that for me then who knows what he could do to help us out. Could even shut off whatever it is that's making Rogers full 'end is nigh', maybe."

"Maybe?"

"Last time he helped he owed me in a pretty big way. From what I've picked up about him he seems to not really be the 'doing it for the right reasons' type of guy."

"Seems? How well do you know this Constantine fella? Are we gonna be pulling from the CI funding or is he gonna want favors?"

"I would never-" You start but he cuts you off with a wave of the hand.

"I'm tired, officer." He states flatly. "I need information to work with, there's plenty of good CI's who ask for too much. The law is lenient in some areas for a reason, if we were too rigid then we'd break. So?"

"I don't know, sir. Really. I'd have to talk with him, odds are he might just want something from me rather than the department."

"You ARE the department, DeLucia. Same as every other officer out there, you represent the GCPD in and out of the uniform. You got any other options?"

"Well. The 'PI' I work with. He's helped with the Calc case, helped me reconstruct some evidence, but he's also a vigilante. Now I know the Vigilante Act covers a lot, but I don't know it as well as you."

"Eh.." He sighs. "The act is a mess, honestly. Vaguely worded. Poorly implemented. Essentially made just for The Batman, but its pillars boil down to needing to prove; a 'rapport between police elements and the Vigilante in question' and 'a lack of evidence that the actions of the Vigilante resulted in additional harm.' Basically, nothing exceeding the internal values set by Internal Affairs for Officer Review. Do that and then we can work with whatever or whoever they give us."

"Sounds loose."

"Like I said. Vague wording. There's a reason some people call it 'The Batman law', it smoothed out a lot of the bumps that came up from GCPD picking up his collars. But perps can still make the same accusations towards them as they would towards an officer. Brutality charges and the like, burden of proof is on the city to show that it was valid."

"How's that work? I've never heard of Batman showing up to a deposition or a court case."

"Josiah Power. League Attorney and damn good, he could have given Dent a real run for a case in his prosecution days. I only bring it up because most perps don't even bother trying it against Batman anymore. But your friend?" He shrugs.

"He's reliable, if a bit... off. Eccentric is probably the better word."

"Nuts." Reiner states.

"Very eccentric. But fantastic at tracking people and information down. But, you also mentioned the League. I know a Detective who's affiliated."

"With the League?" His tired eyes stretch a bit further open. "One of ours?"

"No no, out of state. He isn't really even active anymore, not as a detective at least. But he helped me learn to work more with my Shivers than against them."

"Right... You sure know a lot of capes for someone so dedicated to being an officer."

"Gotta know the roads before you can pick one to drive down." You recite. "My pops says that a lot."

"Smart guy." Reiner groans leaning forward again, he takes off his glasses and you watch his reddened eyes blink slowly. "Looks like you have no shortage of options, I can let the Commissioner know you wanna go this route. I think the easiest sell would be your detective friend, especially if he'd be willing to come in and share a badge number or a precinct so we can run background."

"Might be difficult because on paper he's uh... dead. Sir."

The glasses glide silently back to their perch on his nose and he lets a thin stream of warm air flow from it.

"Course he is. Guess we'd do it under his alias then. Look, Gordon has the same soft spot for you that I got. He and I think you're the first drop of something bigger not just for Gotham but potentially departments all over the country. I'm not gonna bullshit you and tell you that it isn't gonna be an easy call for him to approve you. He will. That's just the kind of guy Jim is. But I lack his, seemingly, blind faith in people. What or whoever ends up helping you on this, you gotta make sure it's good. Damn good." His index finger smooshes into the desk. "There are a lot of people who'd love to cut their teeth being the attorney who took on the first major case where the arresting officer was a Meta-Human. Win or lose, even if it's for scum like The SIM Killer."

"I understand, sir."

"I hope." He replies. "What am I taking to Jim, Officer DeLucia?"

>"Tell him we're going to need another one of those quiet contracts. Put it under John Constantine."
>"I'm going with my PI and his partner. They haven't let me down before, they'll maintain anonymity and help me set a trap for Vic."
>"Tell him I'll be bringing in Detective John Jones, he'd probably be willing to come in and meet with you both."
>"When you put it like this it makes me think it might be a better idea to just try and get Mandragora back into the city. Appease Vic for a bit."
>Write-In


The IP Range ban is still in effect and I would rather burn myself alive on national television for all my friends and family to see than buy a 4chan pass. But otherwise, we maintain the weekly schedule! See you soon.

>>6397378
>"Tell him we're going to need another one of those quiet contracts. Put it under John Constantine."
Here. We. Go.

>>6397419
+1
Let's rock and roll

>>6397378
>"Tell him I'll be bringing in Detective John Jones, he'd probably be willing to come in and meet with you both."
He is the most mellow meta we know and ro metaGAME, he's also a psychic alien and this is an alien threat involving a psychic.

>>6397378
>"Tell him I'll be bringing in Detective John Jones, he'd probably be willing to come in and meet with you both."
Kinda want to check on Martian Manhunter again, especially after the whole rigmarole at Arkham.

>>6397378
>"Tell him we're going to need another one of those quiet contracts. Put it under John Constantine."

>>6397454
Didnt said psychic literally get flattened for a month by this thing? Which is what got bats involved?

We may want the consult, but we dont want to overly involve him and get him double flattened. At best, a psych power consult. Thats if he isnt still flattened? Totally slipped if hes still downed atm.

>>6397378
>"I'm going with my PI and his partner. They haven't let me down before, they'll maintain anonymity and help me set a trap for Vic."
I like the Constantine angle, I did pitch it, but it feels like a wide swing.
Regardless of which way we go, I like the way it reinforces theme for Mark to rely on a mix of vigilante AND police tactics to face down his nemesis.

>>6397559
I may be mistaken, but I thought Martian Manhunter had been kncoked out and recovered? If not, he is still there to consult on Zsasz, not to target Darkseid directly.

>>6397421
>>6397545
>>6397419


"Tell him we're going to need another one of those quiet contracts. Put it under John Constantine."

"The Magician." Reiner remarks dryly as he fishes a pen out of a mug on his desk.

"Honestly, sir. You're taking the whole magic thing in stride."

"Son." He sighs, glancing up. "I know how things work in Gotham City. Gordon had me read his 'All Star Files' before I signed on. I know how it goes around here. It's easier not to think about, just take it as it comes."

He scribbles on a piece of paper and tosses the pen back with a ceramic clink.

"Now I'll take this to the Commissioner, gives you a little bit of time to get your magic friend on the horn and give me an actual plan to give to him."

"Shouldn't we act a little faster th-"

"By the book." He says firmly. "That's what I told you right? That didn't come from me, it came from the top. This is the chain of command and even now we're skipping a few links, but it's what Dent wants for this case and the Calc fiasco."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"You're doing good work. I don't mean to..." He trails off, shaking his head. "I need some damn sleep. Was never good at it before, let alone with all this. Make sure you find Detective Bennett and brief him on everything you told me that was Calc related."

"I'll make sure the reports are perfect." You affirm.

"I know. After you brief Bennett I expect to get them in tandem before the week is out. Hopefully by then... Eugh. We'll see what to do then."

He rises from his desk and you rise from your seat along with him. He steps around the desk, letting his hand drag back to you the plastic baggies you'd collected as he heads for the door.

"Make sure processing knows to expect both our prints on the exterior and get someone to take Hawthorne that card. Keep me in the loop."

You step out of the dim, almost soothing, lighting and back into the buzzing intensity of the bullpen's fluorescents. Reiner follows behind you, a coat hanging from his arm haphazardly while he pulls out a cellphone and marches off without another word to you. You can't exactly blame him. You manage to flag down a patrol officer walking by and hand off the card, now secure in a GCPD evidence baggy, with some brief instructions. A quick nod and she vanishes amidst the flow of traffic as dozens of other officers work on their own cases, it's a passing thought but it lingers. You don't dwell on it for long, you move on to...

>Head to Grey and deliver these documents.
>See if you can't get a peek in on Hawthorne and Kimble working Gorchakov, just for a bit.
>Find an officer to run Grey the documents, then head home. You only know one way to get in contact with John and it's on the other end of that briefcase you were given.
>Write-In

>>6397421
>>6397545
>>6397419

"Tell him we're going to need another one of those quiet contracts. Put it under John Constantine."

"The Magician." Reiner remarks dryly as he fishes a pen out of a mug on his desk.

"Honestly, sir. You're taking the whole magic thing in stride."

"Son." He sighs, glancing up. "I know how things work in Gotham City. Gordon had me read his 'All Star Files' before I signed on. I know how it goes around here. It's easier not to think about, just take it as it comes."

He scribbles on a piece of paper and tosses the pen back with a ceramic clink.

"Now I'll take this to the Commissioner, gives you a little bit of time to get your magic friend on the horn and give me an actual plan to give to him."

"Shouldn't we act a little faster th-"

"By the book." He says firmly. "That's what I told you right? That didn't come from me, it came from the top. This is the chain of command and even now we're skipping a few links, but it's what Dent wants for this case and the Calc fiasco."

"Yes, sir. I understand."

"You're doing good work. I don't mean to..." He trails off, shaking his head. "I need some damn sleep. Was never good at it before, let alone with all this. Make sure you find Detective Bennett and brief him on everything you told me that was Calc related."

"I'll make sure the reports are perfect." You affirm.

"I know. After you brief Bennett I expect to get them in tandem before the week is out. Hopefully by then... Eugh. We'll see what to do then."

He rises from his desk and you rise from your seat along with him. He steps around the desk, letting his hand drag back to you the plastic baggies you'd collected as he heads for the door.

"Make sure processing knows to expect both our prints on the exterior and get someone to take Hawthorne that card. Keep me in the loop."

You step out of the dim, almost soothing, lighting and back into the buzzing intensity of the bullpen's fluorescents. Reiner follows behind you, a coat hanging from his arm haphazardly while he pulls out a cellphone and marches off without another word to you. You can't exactly blame him. You manage to flag down a patrol officer walking by and hand off the card, now secure in a GCPD evidence baggy, with some brief instructions. A quick nod and she vanishes amidst the flow of traffic as dozens of other officers work on their own cases, it's a passing thought but it lingers. You don't dwell on it for long, you move on to...

>Head to Grey and deliver these documents.
>See if you can't get a peek in on Hawthorne and Kimble working Gorchakov, just for a bit.
>Find an officer to run Grey the documents, then head home. You only know one way to get in contact with John and it's on the other end of that briefcase you were given.
>Write-In

Now that we're talking about MM, shouldn't we check up on Nia? Our ex? I remember that Batman told us that MM and her were also affected, we might not want to have something with her, but checking up on her seems in character with Mark

>>6397890
>Head to Grey and deliver these documents.
We cannot leave Hawthorne hanging with Gorchakov, the head home option doesn't feel right right now. We handle the documents with Grey to make sure they're in good hands, then we confront Gorsky

>>6397890
>See if you can't get a peek in on Hawthorne and Kimble working Gorchakov, just for a bit.

captcha why are you shitting your self

>>6397890
>Head to Grey and deliver these documents.
We can get ahold of Constantine tonight, hopefully.

>>6398244
The site has been glitching out all day.

>>6397890
>Head to Grey and deliver these documents.

>>6398024
>>6398260
>>6398261

Gorchakov is being handled by Kimble and Hawthorne, though you can't say you wouldn't want to see the whole thing from the start, and you cant imagine Constantine will be too hard to get ahold of. He's a magician after all, maybe he already knows somehow. Regardless, Grey needs this info and if anyone can fill you in on what else is going on with the cases he can. So you head off.

The halls are busy as you head further towards the Detective's corner, all their offices and desks set up in a centralized location with 'the war room' opposite. Through the frosted glass you can see the silhouette of Grey moving now, along with another much younger man with ginger hair. You open the door and step inside to see them both examining the same picture as they stick it to the board. The photo is a familiar one. Two boys with a matching set of dopey grins.

"I know those kids." You say, causing a minor jolt of both men.

"Jesus Christ. At least clear your throat before scaring the hell out of an old man." Grey says as he clutches his chest dramatically. "Come in, close the door. Good to see you in one piece, never doubted ya."

You do so. Grey smiles at you before nodding to his associate.

"Ah, sorrry. Officer Mark DeLucia, meet Detective Owen Kinski. Narcotics."

"Pleasure to meet ya." Detective Kinski offers with a subdued smile. "Heard your name floating around a lot recently, you have Hawthorne as a TO right?"

"I do, I do. You ever work with him when he was in narcotics?"

"Jeez do I really look that old?" He asks with mock offense. "Not really, I was a grunt and he gave orders to the guy who gave me orders. Made an impression though."

"Like an old sofa." Grey quips, pinning another photo to the board. A square headed young man's school ID headshot.

"Wait, I know him too." You say pointing to it. "He was at a bar that Hawthorne and I tracked a suspect to."

"Devlin Castle." Grey says. "I followed through with your reports and paid a visit to your little friend."

"My little friend? You met up with Caesar?"

"You were a little busy and I didn’t want to waste anymore time, we’re already playing catch up. Anyways, I got a copy of the most recent GU Yearbook and took it by. He pointed out a few faces for us. That’s it, just like you wanted."

"Familiar ones." Detective Kinski adds. "I'm heading up the investigation into the university, well I WAS, a different investigation. We've suspected a drop operation to be running there."

"On campus?" You ask. "Do you mean an influx of drops in or-"

"Both. We've picked up a couple small fish dealers already, usually lurking just outside the campus grounds. Hitting the popular bars. All that usual stuff. None of em talked but after your report." He taps a closed folder on the desk. "We went into their chemistry department and walked through inventory with them, there were discrepancies just like your uh, vision implied."

"So you think it isn't just for Scarecrow? The equipment?"

"We think." Grey interjects. "Not exactly swimming in manpower but Kinski was able to frame this in a way that Narcotics was willing to lend him out. Lot of cooks in the kitchen while you pound pavement, Mark."

"Yes, sir. I know. But uh, I have more ingredients." You gesture weakly with the bag of documents you have rolled up and jutting from your pocket. "This one is SIM related."

"Course." Grey says bluntly, his voice more fatigued than upset. "They got me juggling two cases that'll either get me a gold watch or shipped down the river..."

"Grey, I'm sorry-"

"What for?" He stops you prematurely. "This is my job, son. I live for this shit, the bitching it just how I blow off steam. Hand em over."

"Gloves. It hasn't been processed yet, my prints and the Commander's are on it already." You remind him as you set it on the table.

Grey grumbles and pulls a set of latex gloves free from a box that's collecting dust in the corner. Meanwhile Kinski gives you a polite nod and excuses himself to setting up the new row of suspects for the Thanatoxin Operation. You let your eyes glide over the glossy photographs.

Raul and Alvin, the two brothers from your vision ages 19 and 17 respectively. This Castle character is probably muscle, from what you saw he's probably not kept in the loop. But the next two faces are a mystery to you. Older male, Asian, with wire frame glasses and a bowtie standing in front of the same Gotham University background as the kids. Next to him is a woman with a deeply wrinkled face and short spiked hair and frosted tips. You study their faces, running it through your memory when Grey pipes up.

"Those are the two Hawthorne caught having a meeting with Raul there. We picked him up but we're only watching them. Seeing where they go off too when they miss that next meeting."

"The older fella. Teacher?"

"Former head of the Chemistry Department."

"Former? I'm assuming it was one sided?"

"Admin says he had to step down from the position due to personal issues. His wife is sick with something..." Grey pauses for a moment, a birth certificate halfway extruded from the bag. "Terminal without treatment. Which means..."

"Financial motivation." You say quietly. "The woman?"

"Shelly Weston, she's a receptionist at Ace Chemicals. Works directly under the Plant Manager."

"Ace Chemicals... like Caesar's mom. Anarky got a new in at the place. What's pushing her?"

"A simple answer for once. She's been a receptionist for near thirty years and she might make less than we do."

"Tracks. Anything out of the kids?"

"The brothers and their bodyguard?" Grey asks as he gently nudges the document before raising a small camera with a slit in the bottom. "No."

Click.

A flash fires off and a thin sheet comes out of the bottom. Grey looks at it and hisses.

"Gotta get closer. Can't read this crap." He snaps another photo and as he shakes it he looks at you. "Speaking of, is this crap what I think it is. Lauretta Zsasz, Vic's mom?"

"Yeah, the meeting went well. I found these hidden in what used to be her bedroom. Probably... fifteen years old by now?"

"And these..." He trails off pulling a small stack of laminated plastic from the bag. "ID's? Ah, fakes. Lot of fakes..."

"I thought it was interesting too, figured maybe one of those could pop on something. Give us a little more insight."

"Good work, Mark." Grey says simply as he methodically lines up each card against a white sheet of paper and photographs it. "We'll look into these, I know you can’t be on the SIM case fully but trust me. I want him just as much as you do at this point. Hopefully we can get to him without another meeting.”

You silently doubt it but you give him a nod anyway.

"You've probably had a long enough day as it is, I'll make sure this ends up at processing once I'm done getting the pictures I need..." He trails off in concentration as he snaps another photo.

>"If it's all the same to you, do you mind if I stick around for a little bit? I wanna see if there are any hits, sooner than later."
>"Sounds good, sir. But I'm gonna stop by to see how Hawthorne and Kimble are doing against Gorchakov, this bag wasn't all that I found."
>"Yeah that's not a bad idea. I got a call I need to make anyways."
>Write-In



>>6398244
>>6398260
Exactly why I ended up double posting the last update. Also apologies fellas, I'm working back to back twelves and it's kicking my ass. I keep getting home late. The IP Range Ban is still up so, I'm just waiting.

>>6398417
>>"Sounds good, sir. But I'm gonna stop by to see how Hawthorne and Kimble are doing against Gorchakov, this bag wasn't all that I found."

>>6398527
+1

>>6398417
>"Sounds good, sir. But I'm gonna stop by to see how Hawthorne and Kimble are doing against Gorchakov, this bag wasn't all that I found."

>>6398417
>"Sounds good, sir. But I'm gonna stop by to see how Hawthorne and Kimble are doing against Gorchakov, this bag wasn't all that I found."

>>6398417
>"Sounds good, sir. But I'm gonna stop by to see how Hawthorne and Kimble are doing against Gorchakov, this bag wasn't all that I found."
“Hey Gork, is the reason you’re considering suicide because Lauretta Zsasz‘s serial killer son might find out you sold her up the river to Mandragora after killing Free? Because, damn broski, if so you’re right fucked.”

>>6398623
+1
Straight up 'gorkin it', and by it, I mean my evidentse

>>6398623
+1
Straight up 'gorkin it'
And by it I mean my evidentse B^)

Jesus this site is busted rn

>>6398417
>"Yeah that's not a bad idea. I got a call I need to make anyways."

Contacting Constantine is time sensitive, he might be/get busy.

Hey fellas, update will come later in the day as some stuff came up to take care of. Locked in on taking a look at the interrogation and I'll segue that into heading home and trying to contact Constantine. Expect a bit of a longer update next, see ya soon.

>>6398977
Good luck with the TCB, QM. See you soon.

>>6398527
>>6398530
>>6398599

"Sounds good, sir. But I'm gonna stop by to see how Hawthorne and Kimble are doing against Gorchakov, this bag wasn't all that I found."

"Oh?" He asks, brows raising but his eyes remain downcast on the photographs.

"GCPD Patrol Card, Officer Free's. His old partner."

"The one he killed?" Kinski asks over his shoulder, his face an obvious mask of disgust. "You think it had something to do with it?"

"Don't know. Like I said, he's being interrogated right now. Was hoping to catch some of it, see if anything he says connects some dots for me."

"Good luck." Grey and Kinski say in near unison as they return to their respective tasks. You give a polite nod and head back out through the glass doors.

A few detectives give you passing greeting as you make your way back out towards the bullpen and head for the interview rooms. Gorchakov has been sitting in a private cell at the precinct since you brought him in, only time spent outside the cage was in cuffs heading to and from court. He's had a lot of time to think. Think up deflections, half-truths, and remember old dirt. Something in your gut twitches as you pass by the interview room door and head for the observation room instead. Stepping inside, it's lights completely off and a pair of seats sit near the glass. You lean forward and tap the black button that sits above a metal grate in the wall and from it emerges a familiar voice.

"..iece of shit, ask a hundred times. It ain't happening." Kimble says firmly.

You hit another button, this one blue, and the mass window in front of you fades from an impenetrable black to perfectly translucent aside from the various fingerprint smears and... fluid stains on the opposite side. You fold your arms and watch silently.

"And I told you, I aint talking unless I have guarantees. As a matter of fact, should you even be in here Officer Kimble? Last time we met you stuffed a sock in my mouth and let a rookie batter me around his backseat driving like a maniac."

"Cry me a fuckin river, Gorchakov." Hawthorne says, standing tall by the side of the table. His eyes beady black dots in the shade of his Sergeant's hat.

"I fuckin will and I plan on shipping you down it. Excessive force is just gonna be the tip of the iceberg, especially for that little rookie fuck. How's psychic visions gonna play with the Fourth Amendment?"

"How are you gonna tell your lawyer to draft that up when you got a slit throat, Gorchie?" Kimble asks, leaning in on the table.

"Thank you, Kimble. You meathead fuck." Gorchakov looks to the camera and waves with the little motion his cuffs provide. "Right on camera too, how considerate."

"He wasn't talking about us, Gorchakov." Hawthorne says, his boot clicking loudly in the space as he pulls something from his pocket. "Look at this."

The familiar tattered card flutters to the table.

"An old torn up business card?"

"Read the name." Hawthorne growls.

>>6398609
>>6398623
>>6398647

Gorchakov sighs and leans forward to read it. You can't see his face but you notice when he sits back up that his posture is straighter. Shoulder squared.

"An old torn up, dead guys, business card."

"A card we found at the home of a prostitute. We believe she was an informant, or wanted to be." Hawthorne states each word slowly and clearly. Almost like he's dragging it out intentionally.

"An old. Torn up. Dead whore's business card. I'm so fucking sorry, did I get it that time?" He asks in a childish voice.

"Officer Free. Your partner, who you gunned down-"

"According to the GCPD's resident gypsy!? A-a a fuckin carnie?" He laughs bitterly.

"Well, it'll be your right to argue that in court." Kimble says. "But like we said. We aren't sure if you'll make it."

Gorchakov's head falls backwards and for a moment you can see his eyes. Tired. Dark circles. Then he leans forward again shaking his head.

"Fine. I'll bite. Why not?"

"Because her son is the SIM Killer." Hawthorne says flatly.

"Pffft." Gorchakov snorts. "Holy shit, really! Y'know my mother is actually the Queen of England too."

"Keep laughing." Hawthorne states. "You wouldn't know being in the cage as long as you have. But we had an incident the other day. Kimble, give him the report."

Kimble reaches back and pulls a thin sheet of folded paper from his back pocket before tossing it in Gorchakov's face, earning another bitter chuckle, a few seconds pass as he lowers his head to scan it before he shrugs and leans back.

"Wow. Seems you boys have your hands full. A full truck of bodies?" He whistles. "If only somebody... allegedly, knew something that could help you out with that... unless you want my opinion as a detective?"

"I'd ask the rook for detective advice before I asked you." Kimble spits.

"Harsh, Luke. I thought we-"

"Can it!" Hawthorne shouts with a tone low enough to vibrate the glass. You even see Gorchakov's shoulder flinch just slightly. "Before you make any more smart ass remarks, allow me to paint you the full picture."

Hawthorne slowly sidles up to one of the chairs, gently lowering himself into it before removing his hat and pulling two more folded squares from his pocket.

"Follow along, limp-dick. Cause I ain't gonna repeat myself and this isn't a speech you wanna interrupt or zone out."

He gently set the first square down and unfolds it. Getting up on your toes you can make out the header. 'GOTHAM CITY POLICE DEPARTMENT P1' alongside a bright red stamp that reads: COPY.

"This is the report I wrote up with my rookie regarding what he saw with his vision at the pawn shop basement."

A single scoff escapes before a firm glare and a twitch of the upper lip silences it.

"You understand DeLucia's abilities. Fourth Amendment or no. You know how they work. I'm also going to assume that you perused his personnel file on Mandragora’s behalf and saw he was on the SIM case. Did you ever look into that case file?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gorchakov says steadily.

“Well, I brought you some light reading then.” Hawthorne holds up a new sheet, this one scarred with thick black lines. “Censored of course since you’re a dirty rat. But note this little section near the bottom. Matter of fact, I’ll read it for you: ‘Suspect is thought to be meta-human. Abilities seem to mirror those of Officer Mark DeLucia. Limited ESP, Extrasensory perception,” yada yada…”

“You get what he’s saying, Gork?” Kimble chimes in before tapping the paper. “The day SIM went psycho and butchered Mandragora’s right hand man and his security team? He did it in a basement. A pawn shop basement. One that’s pretty fucking familiar to you… allegedly.”

Gorchakov doesn’t say anything this time, those shoulders tense again and his head starts wobbling as he drums his fingers on the table. He sniffs once and shrugs.

“Okay?”

“You were still on the force when that went down weren’t you? I can’t remember honestly, let me remind you what was written on the wall in wiseguy blood: FREE.” Kimble says.

“As in… he’s free now without fatty looming over him?” Hawthorne asks sarcastically. “Or do you think maybe he meant something else? Maybe he meant Officer Free? Maybe he had the same vision the rookie did… Maybe he went back to the house where this card was found, his childhood home. Maybe he had the same vision the rookie did there too?” Hawthorne leans forward. “We kept that report close to the vest. But I’m gonna clue you in so you can connect all these dots I’ve been putting down, detective. The vision in the house was simple. Laureta Zsasz was killed because she’d been ‘talking to someone she shouldn’t have.’ according to the fat man.”

Hawthorne taps two fingers solidly on the card.

“She was talking to Officer Free. She was snitching on YOUR boss. You had to have noticed. He was a junior officer, he’d have come to you.”

“This is all-”

“You told Mandragora that your partner was getting his nose too close to your business.” Hawthorne continues, his scowl etched in granite. “You told him about it and he told you to take care of it. So you shot Free in the back like a goddamn coward. You did that while Mandragora and Angelo went after the witness. They killed her. You killed Free. And the only thing left to do was figure out your story.”

Seconds pass in complete silence. Hawthorne leans back in his seat and watches like a statue, unblinking. Waiting.

“You can’t prove any of this. Not really.” Gorchakov finally says.

“We don’t have to. Because as it turns out, that woman had a child who was there that night. A child I’m sure you know, didn’t it strike you as odd when Mandragora suddenly had a kid with him? A kid he raised to be his perfect hatchet man? A kid who would collect the SIM cards from his victims?”

Another beat and now Kimble speaks.

“You look a little pale, Gorky. Is your uh, ace detective training finally putting it together for you? The SIM Killer and Lauretta Zsasz’s son are one in the same and now he KNOWS you had something to do with his mother’s death. Alleged. Proof. A court of law. None of that matters anymore, Gorchakov.”

“Big whoop…” Gorchakov tries to counter, but his voice loses strength. He clears his throat. “I’m locked up, I doubt he’s gonna fight his way through the whole station to get to me.”

“Maybe not. But you aren’t gonna be here forever.” Hawthorne says in a tone you’ve never heard from him before. It makes the hair on your neck stand up. “Maybe your little DA deal works and you get to walk, how far do you think you’re walkin? Maybe you figure the best place for you is jail? Maybe, or at least it would be if it wasn’t for the fact that SIM has been working to take control of his dear old adopted daddy’s operation lately. Bet that includes a wide network of shankers or worse on the inside.”

“Shit, will he even make it THAT long? See the other side of his case? These things drag on when you dig your heels in, Gork.” Kimble adds.

“That’s right, arraignment is coming up ain’t it? Not a long drive to city hall but… anything could happen. Maybe a street is blocked off… Maybe SIM isn’t a complete moron and knows our routes anyways? You gotta ask yourself, Charlie. If worse came to worse and the convoy was hit while you were in motion… Who here would protect you? Who here would put themselves between SIM and you? A cop killer. An asshole.”

Hawthorne stands up abruptly, making Gorchakov jump slightly.

“Kimble take him back to the cage.” Hawthorne orders. “Your arraignment is at the end of the week, Charles. You have until then to tell us something useful otherwise your life is gonna be a roll of the dice every time you find yourself outside this building.”

Hawthorne circles the table digging in his pocket to drop a polaroid, the same kind that came from Grey’s camera. You don’t get to see it. “Keep this with you. Look at it whenever you think you have a chance of being free again.”

He gives his shoulder a rough squeeze and he heads for the door as Kimble hauls Gorchakov to his feet. You lean forward and tap the button, letting the glass go opaque again. You step out the door and head for the pen but Hawthorne is already gone, most likely heading to turn the card in to processing. You’d go after him but you can’t shake the feeling you’re on a clock. You march through the office and out the front doors…

====

The door clicks shut behind you. Stepping over the threshold to your apartment you feel a fatigue set over you like a heavy blanket of snow, cold and cumbersome. But you aren’t exactly done working yet. Heading to the bedroom you pull the case from its familiar hiding space and punch the button before listening to the trills.

It rings once.

Twice.

Three times.

Ringing into the cold gray night.

Until it clicks.

“Officer.” A familiar monotone answers.

“I need a favor.” You don’t waste any time. “I know you’re busy so I’ll skip the explanation. I need to get in contact with Constantine.”

A pause before a suspicion laced word comes back at you through the plastic receiver.

“Why?”

“I just said-” You groan and grip the handset tightly. “I need him because you’re busy doing research in your cave and there’s a guy out here who dropped off a truck of bodies in front of the GCPD. A full fucking moving truck, do you understand?”

“John Constantine is a dangerous man, Officer DeLucia. You can’t trust him, the only thing he’s concerned about is himself. He won’t help you unless he gains something from it. The GCPD is-”

“Are you even listening to a word I said? A truck full. Writing in blood on walls. Besides, John isn’t that bad, he helped me in a major way whe-”

“When he owed you something.” Batman interrupts you. “If you go to him, you’ll have to pay a price. He’s selfish, arrogant, and more than willing to sacrifice the people around him to get what he wants.”

>”Well at this point, he seems more willing to help than you are. So whatever that price is, I have to accept it. I can’t let the killing go on any longer. Just tell me how to get in contact with him.”
>”If John is SO bad then tell me what I should do instead? Because right now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and any mistake I make is going to lead to a lot more deaths.”
>”Batman, please. I don’t know why you’re so… I don’t even know what to call it. But you’re hiding from Gotham. If you can’t help me contact John then just… help me yourself.”
>Write-In


Weddings are complicated and I severely underestimated all I'd be doing today. So very sorry for this essentially an update at a normal time. I hope the content and length makes it worth the wait. Of course I'd love to hear what you thought about the interview scene especially since it's one of the few times you've seen your buddies in the GCPD operating independent of you. As always, thanks for reading and I'll see you soon.

>>6399364
>”If John is SO bad then tell me what I should do instead? Because right now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and any mistake I make is going to lead to a lot more deaths.”

Congrats QM! And if it’s not yours, please pass us humble anons’ congrats onto the newlyweds!

>>6399364
>”If John is SO bad then tell me what I should do instead? Because right now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and any mistake I make is going to lead to a lot more deaths.”

The interrogation was great. A really good synthesis/recap moment that showed the payoff of our hard work and your storytelling. Felt like a proper detective show!

Congrats on the wedding, be it yours or otherwise.

>>6399364
>”If John is SO bad then tell me what I should do instead? Because right now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and any mistake I make is going to lead to a lot more deaths.”
Could clarifying for Batman WHY we want Constantine help him figure this out? Isn't it just "hey we need psychic help to help Rogers realize that his death visions are lies fed to him by Darkseid"? Like what's our angle clearly stated?

>>6399364
>Write-in
>"Whatever the risk, Constantine's the only one I know that can do what I need. I've learned more about the SIM killer, and his mother - how his mind works, how she died. If I can somehow put him in some kind of contact with her, or at least separate his delusions from the truth about her, I could stop all of this. If you don't have a better idea, just mind your eggs, stick to sulking, and put me through. But I'm open to ideas."

>>6399364
>>”If John is SO bad then tell me what I should do instead? Because right now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and any mistake I make is going to lead to a lot more deaths.”

look John is without a doubt dangerous but if you follow what he says to do and give him what he wants it goes just fine

>>6399364
>”If John is SO bad then tell me what I should do instead? Because right now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and any mistake I make is going to lead to a lot more deaths.”
>”I considered asking Detective Jones for help, but the whole rigmarole with him getting attacked by whatever was mentally riding on me from Arkham Asylum got me concerned. If what was there could do that with me, then how dangerous is the thing that’s stuck on SIM, manipulating him like how a kidnapper would when blackmailing their victim’s family? Hell, I’m not even sure if two of his psychic blackmailers, Red Eyes and the Hidden Lady, are the same entity or separate ones with similar plots.”

Caught up, as always I really enjoy the way you write normal people's relations to capes. Like in dialogue with Reiner where he treats the League like UN or something.
Also.
>"A magic doctor, then?" Reiner says. "Strange."
Booo!
>>6399364
>>”Batman, please. I don’t know why you’re so… I don’t even know what to call it. But you’re hiding from Gotham. If you can’t help me contact John then just… help me yourself.”
Actually yeah. The truck full of dead guys isn't just business as usual, even in Gotham. Come out, superhero, we need you. I wasn't here for the Constantine vote and I agree with Bat, that's a bad idea.

>>6399364
>”Batman, please. I don’t know why you’re so… I don’t even know what to call it. But you’re hiding from Gotham. If you can’t help me contact John then just… help me yourself.”

Come on Bats, get some fresh air.

>>6399364
>”If John is SO bad then tell me what I should do instead? Because right now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and any mistake I make is going to lead to a lot more deaths.”
I'm personally don't feel we should be accusing Bats of anything. As far as I know, he's given enough to this city that I don't doubt him and his reason for seemingly taking the backseat.

>>6399732
I laughed at the Marvel reference

>>6399391
>>6399429
>>6399438

”If John is SO bad then tell me what I should do instead? Because right now I’m caught between a rock and a hard place and any mistake I make is going to lead to a lot more deaths.” Frustration paints your words more than you like but once you begin you figure this is as good a time as any to let it all out. "Besides, whatever the risk, Constantine's the only one I know that can do what I need. I've learned more about the SIM killer, and his mother. I learned how his mind works, how she died. If I can somehow put him in some kind of contact with her, or at least separate his delusions from the truth about her, I could stop all of this."

There's silence for a few seconds... Then it drags on further.

"Look." You continue. "I considered asking Detective Jones for help, he's one of yours right? But this whole rigmarole with him getting laid up by whatever it was in Arkham had me concerned. Whatever is messing with SIM might even be stronger than the Tulpa and the only person EITHER of us knew who could handle it for better or worse was John, because if he wasn't I doubt you'd have worked with him at all."

"Is it the only way?" He asks after another drawn out pause.

"John?"

"Disrupting his connection to whatever it is that clouds his mind. Is it the only way, or could he be stopped through more conventional means?"

"I mean... he could? He's still just a guy at the end of the day, I've even put him on his ass before. But that isn't the issue, the issue is getting to him before he's alerted because if he's given enough warning he'll slip away. I've gone through the entire city before taking shortcuts I'd never seen but somehow I just KNEW they existed. Something telling me to turn left instead of right. He has to have something similar the way he moves and finds hidey holes."

"There are other options."

"Well I'd love to hear em! Because I don't know what's going on with you but this needs to end and I think I can stop all of this with John's help. If you don't have a better idea then... maybe just keep focusing on whatever it is you're sulking over in your cave and tell me how to contact him."

He hums in contemplation for a moment.

"There are more people than you and your killer who know this city inside and out."

"Is this your way of offering to help?"

"No." He says flatly. "But I know someone you can actually trust. Nightwing is still in Gotham."

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>>6399482
>>6399508
>>6400035

"That falls into the same problem I was having with asking Detective Jones. Wasn't he also affected by the Tulpa?"

"A few restless nights and headaches. The same that I put up with. He's strong, versed in techniques that prevent psychic probing, and more than capable of handling someone like SIM."

"I don't know..." You say, letting the idea percolate.

"I said I trusted the GCPD. Gordon trusts you, speaks highly of you. I want to believe in the GCPD so I'm willing to leave it to your discretion, but if this ends up causing more problems for my city then this will be our last conversation."

"By leave it to my discretion you mean...?"

"I can tell you how to contact John or I can send Nightwing to speak with you."

>"John stopped the Tulpa. He can stop whatever is behind SIM, I don't want him beaten to a pulp and tossed in Arkham. I want him fixed."
>"Send Nightwing, SIM is slippery but I saw how Nightwing operated during the Museum attack. Besides, it'll be nice to have a cape come in through the front door for once.
>"There was something else..." (Anything else you want to bring up or speak to Batman about before hanging up?)
>Write-In

>>6400618
>Is Bats working on whatever occurred at Arkahm and took MM and other psychics out of commission? If yes, we take Nightwing, if not, we'll need Constantine.

To the other readers; is it worth the considerable price to try to save Vic Z? Could that turn him to our side, even if he's likely to be stuck in courts and behind bars for the rest of days?

>>6400630
>is it worth the considerable price to try to save Vic Z?
There are levels to this, I think.
For clarity - I was the anon that wondered about using Constantine to cut out the middle man and put Vic through to his mom, and it seems enough of us have liked that idea enough to get us to this point.
Without any metagaming, Mark just doesn't know the scope of what he is up against. Zsasz isn't even the tip of the iceberg, he's a penguin that keeps bonking his head against it. Even if we heal and help him, he won't necessarily be an asset when/if Darkseid rolls up... Though he maybe could be! I just doubt it. Even if we do fix him, he has already committed enough murders to mandate a life sentence, death penalty really but this is Gotham.
It is possible he uses his skills to free himself, maybe even becomes a criminal vigilante that has to evade the cops but fights for good. More likely he ends up a friendly Hannibal type that we can visit and chat with for help.

But with all those considerations aside...

Narratively it makes the most sense for Mark to go with John Constantine, and I'll explain why: Mark is a devout Catholic.
If he goes with Nightwing, it's very likely they will apprehend Zsasz once and for all. I think still very possible that, like Joker or Scarecrow or others he escapes eventually and begins killing again, but let's assume the best outcome possible and say that he will serve his life sentence uninterrupted. That saves a lot of lives!
But if we go with John Constantine, and it WORKS, then we have also saved Zsasz' immortal soul. We will have delivered him from the path of the devil and allowed him to reconcile with God.
I believe Mark would look at the cards in the table and be willing to pay a heavy price to a guy like John Constantine in order to have a chance at not just stopping the murders, but saving Victor's soul.

So!

>>6400618
>"John stopped the Tulpa. He can stop whatever is behind SIM, I don't want him beaten to a pulp and tossed in Arkham. I want him fixed."
>Write-in
>"I know what you fight for, Bats, and it lets me guess at what you believe, but I don't really know that for sure. You know what I fight for, but I'll just tell you what I believe. I'm a man who believes in the love of God, and I believe all of us are made in his image... Maybe we could clobber this guy and toss him in the clink, maybe he'll even stay there, where he belongs. But I believe in what happens after that, too, Bats. I believe in the judgment of the Lord. Victor Zsasz is lost, sick, and he's gone down a dark path to that judgment. If there's a chance, even a small one, that I can pull his ass out of the fire too? That John Constantine can help get the evil out of his head by showing him the truth that I know he wants to be able to see, how wrong all this is, man, how sick it's gotten, I just, I have to try. I have to try. For the love of God, I will pay the price to have that chance, to let him be redeemed."

>>6400649
+1

>>6400630
I care less about saving him then stopping him, but more than that I want to stop whoever Darkseid is behind him. S:
>"John stopped the Tulpa. He can stop whatever is behind SIM, I don't want him beaten to a pulp and tossed in Arkham. I want his whole prophecy stopped."

>>6400649
+1
This makes more sense

Its as much about saving Sim as it is capturing him. We know theres another world power involved. We know heaven n hell exists.

If bats is working on what caused this psychic disturbance, we can leave him to it. If hes not, John it is.

>>6400688
>>6400652
>>6400630
We've had plenty bits of Mark inwardly seething at Victor and wanting to really bring the pain on him before arresting him, especially for threatening all his loved ones like he did. Victor definitely deserves prison for his crimes, whether manipulated from a young age or not. But that doesn't mean he can't be redeemed or saved seeing as the supernatural manipulation victim background of his cannot be ignored

>>6400696
>plenty bits of Mark inwardly seething at Victor and wanting to really bring the pain on him
Right, definitely, and that part of Mark - the judgmental, wrathful, vengeful part - is something he does keep a firm handle on. Those traits make police officers into monsters every bit as bad, even worse in some cases, than a supervillain. They make men into beasts. Mark is a good cop because he keeps those feelings in check. Saving Victor, despite the risk? That's Mark *beating* those parts of himself, making them smaller, and weaker.
I wonder if Zsasz will ever be able to speak in some way to the families of his victims.

>>6400618
>"John stopped the Tulpa. He can stop whatever is behind SIM, I don't want him beaten to a pulp and tossed in Arkham. I want his whole prophecy stopped."

>>6400618
>>"Send Nightwing, SIM is slippery but I saw how Nightwing operated during the Museum attack. Besides, it'll be nice to have a cape come in through the front door for once.
Fuck "saving" Vic. This was my stance since thread one and the literal truck full of dead people really didn't help me to feel sorry for the sad widdle boy sim killer.
The circumstances that made him into something to be removed are tragic and all, but he's still to be removed. Mark is too much of a golden retriever to go for a classic "he's reaching" strat, but maybe one of the sticks Nightwing throws will give SIM brain damage or something.

Bat(I like how Detect writes him as a brick wall in dialogue, it's funny) is right here. Constantine famously fucks over everyone. You think he'll stumble upon Darkseid and then just tank the wrath of an evil space god? The Hellblazer? Yeah right. He'll just redirect that wrath at the closest people around him and bail. Luv me John Constantine as a charcter, but you *never* want him around. Or poking space satan. And for what, one mass murderer who's getting life anyway?

>>6401080
>And for what, one mass murderer who's getting life anyway?
For another child of God made in his image (^:

>>6401080
+1

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>>6400649
>>6400650
>>6400652
>>6400688
>>6400877

"John stopped the Tulpa. He can stop whatever is behind SIM, I don't want him beaten to a pulp and thrown in Arkham. I want his whole prophecy stopped."

"Right." He replies dryly. "I thought it was the opinion of the GCPD that this prophecy was a delusion."

"Better safe than sorry, John should be able to get to the root of that. If this is all mommy issues or if there's an actual threat here. I've seen what SIM sees, these... red eyes. A burning heat. It's fucked but I need to know if his 'shivers' are different to mine or if this is just what happens when you mix an ability like mine with a mental illness."

"And if it IS a third party?"

"Then maybe you won't have a choice to stay down there much longer, because we can deal with a lot, cause something or someone capable of driving a guy to do all this..." You trail off but the message is clear. "You said you would leave it to my discretion so this is the call I'm making."

"Before he left, he came to speak to you." He speaks it like fact. "He left you a card."

You lean off your bed's edge and pull open your nightstand drawer, The Magician tarot card stares back at you.

"He did... how-"

"Bleed on it. Then burn it. Say his name before it goes out. He'll get the message, if he doesn't answer then he isn't interested."

"What do I do then?"

There's a long silence on the other end before he replies.

"Call back. I'll send Nightwing."

The call dies and you're left holding the receiver in one hand and the card in the other. You hang up and slowly rotate the card, the light bounces off it's dull finish. You stare closely, shifting it, giving it a few gentle bendings. It seems totally... normal. Like any card you could get from a forty dollar Tarot deck from some hippy. But then again, it isn't like you haven't seen stranger.

You head to your kitchen with the card in hand and your stomach tight from anxiety. You dig in your pocket and pull Hawthorne's lighter out, setting it aside. You open a drawer and pull free one of your only chef's knives, barely used due to your hours, looking down at it you see your own apprehensive face staring back at you.

"Bless me father, I'll answer for this. I promise." You say to your own warped reflection.

With a steady hand you press your pinkie to the tip of the blade. You grit your teeth and drag down and away to cut a clean line on the side of your finger, you toss the knife into the sink and dangle your little finger over the tarot until a small droplet of your blood falls and splats on the face of the magician. You flick open the cap to the old Zippo and spin the wheel before gently edging the corner into the flames, the corner flares up brighter than you had expected. You step back from the burner and sigh before speaking:

"John. Constantine."

...

...

The top half of the card curls in on itself.

"John Constantine." You repeat again.

The fire edges closer to your the fingertips clutching the bottom center. You lift the card again. Close your eyes.

"John Constantine..." You mutter. "Answer me. you dick."

When you open your eyes you see a large portion of the card has fallen away as ash on your kitchen floor, the blackened edge of the card still holding a faint orange smolder. You flick it into the sink and sigh... only to feel your heart leap into your chest as your front door opens and a familiar face in a trench coat steps in casually.

"Apologies." He says, dusting off his sleeves. "Been drinking. Aim isn't the best and I wound up a floor down from 'ere."

"My door was locked..."

"I said I'd been drinking. I'm not so pissed I'd forget a simple unlocking charm." He says in an insulted tone as he strides over to your couch and plops down. "So, who made you savvy to the card? Never expected to hear from you, just had you pegged as the sentimental type."

"Doesn't matter, I need your help with something."

"You and half of Liverpool, mate. You're just lucky I'm still in town."

"Why ARE you still in town? I thought you had some business to attend to."

"Aye. And I still do." He says fishing in his coat and pulling out a pack of Silk Cut. "Bat-Bastard hasn't paid up on his tab, of course. Off somewhere sulking and moaning about the night or some odd, I'd wager."

"Not far off..." You mumble, sitting on the edge of your coffee table.

"Yeah... So 'ere I am. Hunting for a stray cat since her owner is too stingy to hand over the leash... or answer a bloody phone." He reaches in his pocket again and withdraws a metal disk. He lobs it to you lazily.

It's heavy, polished to a mirror sheen despite the fingerprint smudges littering it. Across the front three letters are etched in bold 'JLA'.

"Knicked that out of his cave. Bloody thing doesn't work, be a good copper and see that gets back to him." He shakes his hand and in a blink his fingers are curled around his lighter. Before he can spark it you reach out and flick the cap shut.

"Smoke out of the window man, I rent."

He rolls his eyes but stands anyways. The window rasps open as he lights up.

"So... Like I said, I need help. SIM is-" You're cut off.

"And like I said, I'm busy." He replies blowing out a stream of smoke. "Looking for someone holding onto a very useful piece of kit. Sorry to have you sin for nothing, lad."

"John. Please." You stand up and John lazily inhales again as he eyes you up and down. You can see the exact moment a devilish glint appears in his eye, an idea, you don't like it.

"Alright, I maybe willing to hear you out. On a condition."

You brace yourself. The price.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing nefarious so wipe that look off your face, please. Information."

"Information? What could I possibly know that you don't?"

"Plenty, copper. Don't sell yourself short. But it isn't exactly your knowledge I want, it's who your institution."

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"The GCPD? John I'm not-"

John powers through your response like you never made a sound.

"A name and an address for starters. Known associates mayhaps? That sort of thing, you see; the woman I'm looking for happens to be a resident of your..." He stares out the window and blows smoke. "Lovely city. All I need from you is to put her name in your robust database and give me whatever comes up so I can work on finding her."

"You done?" You ask, molars meeting from a little frustration.

John shrugs and ashes his cigarette.

"First off, the GCPD database is not the public library. I can't access it willy-nilly and hand out information on citizens. It's against the law."

"Unless, Jolly old Jim Gordon says it's kosher. You said this involved that SIM nutter right? I'm sure he'd sign off." He flicks the butt out the window. "Don't look so surprised, officer. I told you I've been lingering around. People talk. Besides, if Gordon says no then you can just do it anyways, can't you? Just look it up yourself and jot the information down for old uncle Johnny. Nobody ever finds out and you're free of your SIM problem. Sorted."

"The GCPD can't go around handing out details from our database and I'm insulted you'd even think that I'd go behind Gordon's back to give you that informatio, especially when I'm not even sure..." You trail off as John cocks a brow.

"Sure of what? What'll 'appen to her? I have no interest in harming anyone, officer. Cross me 'eart. So long as she hands what she stole over it'll be roses all the way. Nobody will be any wiser."

"If she doesn't?"

"She will." He says flatly.

"Right. Why can't you just use a spell to find her?"

"You think I haven't tried? The artifact she's holding onto has a lovely built in defense against that very thing, makes it a right ballache to keep track of which is exactly how it got knicked in the first place." He spits and closes your window. "I promise you, officer. I simply need to know where to start looking, the rest I can 'andle. I'm far from a one trick pony."

"So just the information on her so you can get back some stolen property?"

"DANGEROUS stolen property I might add, you'd be making the whole of Gotham safer letting me take it off her hands. Trust me on that, nobody needs to be toting that thing around. So... should we shake on it? The offer is going... going..." He trails off and pops a grin.

He extends a hand and gives you a smile that would look more at home on a used car salesman.

>"Alright, you have a deal. But you get the information AFTER you help me, not before."
>"Alright, you have a deal. But you get the information AFTER you help me, not before." (Lie)
>"Deal. I'll talk to the Commissioner, but he's going to want to know the name and so am I."
>"Deal. Gordon already knows I was planning on contacting you, we'll see what he has to say."
>"Fine. I'll look it up tomorrow and get you the information but I expect you to be worth it."
>"No deal, this was a mistake."
>Write-in

>>6401470
>"Deal. I'll talk to the Commissioner, but he's going to want to know the name and so am I."

Worst he can do is say no. Then we just go with Nightwing instead.

>>6401485
+1

>>6401470
>"Deal. Gordon already knows I was planning on contacting you, we'll see what he has to say."

>>6401485
Gonna be funny if its zatanna and we have the catholic shivers cop stuck in a JLAD shitshow

>>6401470
>"Deal. Gordon already knows I was planning on contacting you, we'll see what he has to say."

So what are we going to ask Constantine to do *specifically*?

My original idea was to create some means for Zsasz to communicate directly with his mother from beyond the grave, to get closure on his trauma, perspective on his life, and to dispel the manipulation and confusion that has led him down this path. I don't know how possible that even is! But I know it's roughly inside of John's abilities.
Barring that, do we just have him flex some magic on Vic's mental corruption, try to remove the marionette strings and get a peek at the big, ugly, new god hand that they're dangling from?
Fortunately, his ability to move around mystically means we can set up an 'ambush' really easily - wherever we link with Vic, Constantine can just appear there, essentially, with the former having probably no ability to anticipate it, and from there I think his powers mean the game is up for Zsasz. Maybe Constantine could put both of our consciousnesses in a mental plane that will allow us to talk more freely and try to get through to him without a concern that he will cut the convo short by stabbing or shooting us. Maybe a conference call with his mom being brought into the loop...

>>6401563
I think that ambush and intervention, conference call idea is very good.

>>6401563
This, but also a chance for Mark to talk to Lauretta about her version of events leading up to the murder. Like how did she know Officer Free, what she saw, something that only her and Vic knows to give us a few moments to explain the situation, and explaining Vic’s powers and situation to her if need be.

>>6401777
Also, I’m gonna guess that her and Free were a thing.

Good God, Gorku, you’ve completely fucked yourself, haven’t you?

>>6401789
If that is true, then Gorky might be the Joe Chill to Zsasz' Batman.

>>6401777
Jackpot checked!

>>6401777
Oh wise Jackpot anon, you have a good idea!

We should totally have our own conversation with his mom, first, especially if putting him through directly is problematic for some reason. I bet that would be helpful no matter what.

>>6401485
>>6401506
>>6401562
>>6401556

"Deal. Gordon already knows I was planning on contacting you, we'll see what he has to say. But, I'm gonna need the name."

You grip his hand and shake it once firmly. His smile edges a bit wider and you feel a ticklish ripple go up your forearm as he releases your hand.

"Of course, officer. It's Selina Kyle, need me to jot it down for you?"

"No. You said she had stolen property, something of yours?"

"It's someone's property, for certain. Who's to say who the real owner is?"

"The law might have something to say about it."

"Relax. I was only having a laugh. It doesn't BELONG to anyone. It's owner died, it's a historic piece and a dangerous one."

"You said that before but what IS it?"

"If you must know." He asks with an annoyed huff. "It's a rifle. Very old, eighteen something or other. Very cowboy. Very American. Very dangerous to demons and their ilk."

"A rifle... for demons?"

"The same way a swatter is for flies." John chuckles. "It was on display here in Gotham as a historic piece. All these bloody museums you people are propping up here these days."

"So why do you need it? Are you mixed up with a..." You trail off, mouth going a bit dry.

"I'm mixed up in quite a lot, Officer. The less you know about it, the better you'll sleep at night. Just know that I'm not the only one looking for it, but I am the only one you want finding it."

"How do you know this Selena Kyle lady is the one that took it?"

"Favors." He says simply. "Now enough about me and my dalliance with mystical firearms, let's talk about YOU. Or more specifically this SIM bugger."

"I'll give you the short and skinny of it since I doubt you care about the full story."

"Right-o." He confirms with a pleased nod.

"Son of a prostitute, his mom was either an active informant or was considering it, local crime boss finds out and he makes her kill herself while her son is upstairs."

A low whistle from John but he otherwise maintains a slightly bored expression.

"Crime boss adopts the kid. Decides to raise him up as a hitman essentially, fucks him up mentally, doesn't help that he has the same abilities as me."

"You're taking the piss." John states, straightening up a bit. "Two city talking psychics in the same place?"

"Not EXACTLY the same, just similar enough. His 'city' is telling him to kill. That an apocalypse is coming and that anyone caught here when it shows up is going to have their 'soul trapped' or something similar. He thinks the only way to prevent it would be to make people leave or..."

"Send em to heaven." John finishes with a nod. "Sound logic. For a nutter."

"You don't... know anything about that, right?"

"About what?"

"Y'know... like an apocalypse or something?"

"Mate." John barely gets it out before he barks out in laughter. Real, gut clenching laughter. "Oh you poor religious sods, no officer, the trumpets aren't set to start for another few millennia."

"Oh crimey." He sighs, wiping a tear away from his eye. "Rest assured, if there was an apocalypse on the calendar I'd be off stopping it instead of worrying over some bird with a stolen gun. Quite fond of our little reality here, it's got all my shite in it."

"Right, well. He's delusional then, I was hoping you could do some of your..." You wiggle your fingers in his general direction. "And find out if he's being led around by something else or if it's just something internal."

"I could certainly try, but what are you looking for me to do exactly? Do you just need someone to peek in on him and make sure he's alone in his head?"

"That's part of it. But I was also thinking a way I could try to get through to him... are you able to..." You pause for a second and swallow your apprehension. "Can you commune with the dead? I was thinking if he could SPEAK to his mom, maybe he would start to see through whatever it is clouding him."

"Now now then. That's necromancy, lad. Dark magic. Bad juju." He pauses for a moment and then shifts his grave expression into another grin. "At least typically. I know you worry for your immortal soul and I can tell you from experience the stink of necromancy doesn't come off in the wash. But there is a way we can make that happen without defiling a perfectly good soul. But it isn't guaranteed to work."

"What is it?"

"You mentioned you wanted it for his mum, is that all you wanted? For her to speak to him."

"I thought it couldn't hurt. Also considered maybe speaking to her first, alone. Just in case.."

"Smart thinking, the dead are wily things. But you really think a dressing down from mummy'll be enough?"

"We won't know until we talk to her, tell me about the second ritual."

"It's more complicated than the standard rituals. It's actually easier to send a hand out to pry the soul from whatever soup it's swirling in; up, down, or middle. But only because the price is that stink I mentioned before, more like a stain really. A side effect of 'forbidden' magics." John tumbles his lighter between his knuckles as he speaks, like this was casual bar-talk. "Benefits to it are that the soul doesn't have a choice and it can use any vessel to communicate. Typically, that role falls to the caster but it can use any human present."

"So the more complicated version requires what exactly?"

"Two things." He states, holding two nicotine stained fingers upright. "First, the consent of the soul. This version of the ritual is a bit more light-handed, we reach out to the soul and explain what's going on, why we need it, etcetera. Then it decides if it wants to speak with us."


"How likely is she to say yes?"

"Depends. More likely if we make a good argument or appeal to some unfinished business, spirits love that sort of thing. But the 'ard part comes from what we'd need next. The corpse."

"The corpse!? Like HER corpse?"

"Aye, no substitutions either. Even if it's nothing but bone. It'll work."

"Her body was wrapped up in a carpet and dumped... somewhere. I'd have to find it."

"Not like it's your job or anything." John quips. "But, I know you're on a schedule here. I'm not opposed to doing it the old fashioned way, hosting a seance and letting mummy dearest speak through one of us."

"Is there any way that I'd be able to talk with them together? Like some kind of magic conference call?"

John stares at you for a moment like your head grew wings. He moves to the window again as he fishes a new cigarette, mumbling as he shakes his head.

"Bloody conference call..." He snorts once.

"You said you could get me out of my body before, when dealing with the Tulpa. We spoke through our minds just fine and SIM is unstable, the second you show up he could just decide to shoot or try and stab his way out. It'll be better if we have a neutral place to have this conversation."

"Anyone ever tell you you've got a bleeding heart, copper?" John asks as he lights the pale stick, it's cherry flaring up against the dark backdrop of the alley outside. "I'll tell you the main thing that'll keep that from happening. In order for me to set up that little pow-wow and include our 'maybe' willing spirit I would need to be able to exercise a lot of focus."

"So? What's the problem with that?"

"The problem is the 'eadcase. If he's fightin and wriggling trying to get out AND he has your brand of strangeness going on in his noggin then I'm not going to be able to maintain that spell unless you find a way to sedate him or otherwise get 'im to agree. I had to ask you, remember?"

"So it's possible?"

John rolls his eyes and lets out a spout from the corner of his mouth.

"Aye, it's fuckin possible. But instead of going to all that trouble wouldn't it be simpler to just..." John holds out his free hand, index and thumb, pads smooshed together, with a flourish and a sharp whistle you feel pressure on your biceps and thighs as you're constrained by glowing yellow bands.

"What the fuck!? John!" You spit out as you struggle to move. Thankfully you find yourself free near immediately. "Never do that to me again."

You shudder violently.

"What the hell was that?"

"Simple binding spell. I lie in wait for him and I hold SIM still... Bob's your uncle, slap on the cuffs, shoot him in the 'ead, whatever it is you want out of this. I don't really care. And before you ask, no I can't use that to hold him down so I you can have your astral chat." He puffs again, greedily. "You're asking for a lot here, mate. A lot of time and effort. But a deal is a deal, just tell me how you want to do it and I'll gather the supplies. But if it goes all to pot that isn't my problem, I'll cast the spells but anything past that point is your responsibility."

>"We go the full nine yards. I'll find Lauretta's body AND find a way to get SIM to agree to this little mind meeting. You just need to show up."
>"He won't agree to that, shit I don't even know how he'd respond to someone like you. I'll find Lauretta's body and we'll just have to... surprise him."
>"Trying to find her body could take too long, he's pushing me to help him sooner than later. Maybe... Lord forgive me. Maybe we do it the easy way... with you as the medium."
>"Honestly... we can work out what's wrong with him mentally later. Can you promise me that binding spell or whatever will be able to hold him? Long enough for me to get cuffs on?"
>Write-In


Didn't even mean for this update to be so long, I just can't help it when I write for Constantine I have a lot of fun doing his character. This also serves as an extremely roundabout Hitman reference, IYKYK. Hope you guys are enjoying the return of the Laughing Mage and I look forward to getting to write him and SIM in a future encounter together... most likely.

>>6399732
>Booo!
This fuels me, thank you.

>>6400400
This also fuels me, thank you.

>>6400649
Really enjoy the focusing in on Mark's faith that you guys are doing. I didn't expect this to be much of a moral conflict but the way you guys have built Mark it makes a ton of sense. Really liking the direction this is taking us.

>>6401080
I respect you for standing your ground on wanting to kill Vic as well, you are serving a very vital part of Mark's inner voice. I also am glad you picked up on me making Batman as conversationally obtuse as possible, it is intentional and also makes me laugh.

>>6401789
>>6401841
Throwback reminder; in the vision of Free's death one of the last things he did was pocket a ring from the Pawn Shop, at Gorkie's insistence, so he could give it to his long-time girlfriend. Some of Free's last thoughts were of his girl waiting at home for him.

Thanks for all the conversation between votes keeping things interesting and letting me get in on what you guys are thinking. Hope to see more, see you soon!

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>>6401977
>>"We go the full nine yards. I'll find Lauretta's body AND find a way to get SIM to agree to this little mind meeting. You just need to show up."
I have a fucking stupid idea but I believe it might just work. To preface this, Vic WANTS to trust us, otherwise he wouldn't bother giving us an opportunity to earn his trust, nor would have reacted as he did near the end of our little pow-wow in his childhood home. To that end...why don't we ask him to help us find his mother's Earthly remains? That she didn't get a proper burial most certainly doesn't sit right with him, and working with him in this capacity should establish that we are actually trying to help him in some way, shape, or form.
Sure, he might counter that by saying where her remains lie doesn't really matter given the impending apocalypse, but at the same time he was clearly affected by her death and the manner it was carried out, so it might be worth it to him to give her some sense of peace and himself some closure before the world ends. We could spin it as a bucket list sort of thing, or press him and argue that there's no reason to half-ass things just because the end of the world is scheduled.
Worst case scenario, he refuses and we go about it ourselves. This is the kinda shit Mark said his powers were best suited for, and I'm inclined to agree. Either way, we have options if Vic doesn't want to work with us. It's not like he'd actively sabotage our efforts to find the body if he said no, right?

>>6401985
+1
Fuck it, why not. It has the side effect of distracting Vic a little longer so he isn’t stalking and killing people for a day or two as well.

If we’re feeling particularly devious, we could let him know that one of Mandragora’s top guys could possibly be released from prison soon. Down to the day he will likely be let out.

>>6401985
+1, I like it.

>>6401977

>>6401985
+1
Because I think he'll go for it, and because 'working a case' with Vic sounds like awesome storytelling.

>>6401970
>His smile edges a bit wider and you feel a ticklish ripple go up your forearm as he releases your hand.
The pact was made. Constantine now knows Mark is on the hook... but so is he

>>6401985
+1

>>6401985
>>6402037
>>6402043
>>6402053
>>6402274

"We have to go the full nine yards." You start off, settling onto the arm of your couch while he smokes from the window. "I'll find Lauretta's body AND find a way to get SIM to agree to this little mind meeting. You just need to show up."

"Lovely. I was worried you were going to try and put me to work. I'm assuming you have a plan of some sort?"

"Yeah..." You say weakly, a spark of something insane smoldering in the back of your mind. "It's just... risky."

"Ooh." John coos. "Do tell, offer."

"Well. I was gonna ask him to help me. Just straight up."

A long pause accompanied by a longer drag from his cigarette. John chuckles a little on the exhale.

"Oh-hoho. Bold of you, think he'll bite?" He finally says.

"I do, he's kinda desperate for me to be his friend or really to have A friend period I guess. He WANTS to trust me so I'll use that. Figured I would put it under the guide of wanting to give his mom a proper burial, he knows I'm a Catholic, so apocalypse or not it makes sense for me to push for it."

"So everyone knows you're a soft touch?"

"Everyone knows that I look for the best in people. It doesn't mean I ignore everything else, there's a reason he kept a gun on me when I spoke to him earlier." You toss out. "But I can use it to my advantage, not only try and do something I'd want regardless but earn a little of that trust he's trying to find a reason to give me."

"Sound. Sound." John repeats nodding. "And how do you plan on selling the idea of letting me into his head?"

"I- uh. Hm..." You hum. "That is a work in progress, but I'm leaning towards trying to get you across as someone who is also 'in' on this."

"In on what?"

"The apocalypse. You're a mysterious..." You gesture vaguely. "Something. I think it isn't too far fetched to say that if he could sense it coming that someone else could. Besides I think he'll be just as surprised as I am that magic, REAL magic, exists."

"I'm not a bloody entertainer. Don't expect me to go pulling rabbits out of my arse or pulling coins out of other equally rude orifices." He flicks the butt of his cigarette into the alley. "Though from what you've told me and what I've 'eard he's probably more partial to the old 'sawing a woman in half' gag."

"Don't be a dick, you agreed to try it my way. Just do enough to convince him and maybe play up the magic angle, sell it a little. You can do that right?"

"Oh mate. I'll forgive you that on account of there being an entire ocean between us. In Liverpool there are three rules but only one that really matters." He tugs on his coat pridefully, popping the lapels. "You always keep an eye on Johnny Con-Job."

"And that's you?" You ask with a skeptical tone and straight face, purposefully held to press his buttons a bit.

"Bloody- Yes. That's me, you git." He huffs and settles back onto the sill. "I'll make sure he doesn't suspect a thing, if anything YOU had better make sure you don't blow the play."

"If you think you can handle it..." You say lifting your hands and suppressing a small grin.

"You're winding me up."

"You tried first."

"Bah." John waves a hand in your direction. "How soon will you be able to get me the information on Ms. Kyle?"

He says her name 'Ms. Kyle' in an exaggerated snotty tone before smiling at his own immaturity.

"Soonest possible would be tomorrow, after I bring it up to Gordon."

"Sorted." He announces dramatically, rising to his feet from the windowsill. "I will see you then, I have drinks to get back too before they go warm."

"That's it?"

"Aye. You needed help. I needed help. We set conditions and shook on it. I've naught to do nor any interest in what you do in the time between. Especially when I can't even enjoy a fag properly." He continues on muttering as he straightens his jacket out. "Having me blow it out the window like I'm thirteen again, lost the plot..."

"Thirteen? Jesus." You mutter.

"Right, anyways. Thanks for the help officer, you're living proof that every copper isn't a massive cunt. It's given me faith again in the system, truly. Ta." John looks up and strides for the door.

>"Wait, how will I contact you when I have the information you need?"
>"Wait, before you go I actually had a few questions... (Write-in questions for John before he goes.)
>"You know you're going to help me with SIM before I give you that information right? Just wanna make sure we're on the same page."
>"Wait! I uh... I was curious if you could... Well before you kind of blindsided me with the whole 'demons are actually out there' thing and it's been eating at me for a while. Could you, tell me about the other side? You know..." You point up.
>Write-In

>>6402356
>"Wait, how will I contact you when I have the information you need?"
>"You know you're going to help me with SIM before I give you that information right? Just wanna make sure we're on the same page."
Batman DID have a point. Best we don't hand John every little thing he needs to get out of Gotham too quickly.

>>6402369
+1

>>6402369
+1

>>6402369
This'll do nicely +1

>>6402356
support >>6402369

>>6402369
+1

>>6402356

Update in a bit, had a long day yesterday. Locked in on the current vote!

>>6402369
>>6402395
>>6402423
>>6402445
>>6403844
>>6403878

"Wait, how will I contact you when I have the information you need?"

"Check your back left trouser pocket." John replies with a smug grin.

Your hand slaps against empty space as you tap the outside of your pocket. What the?

"My wallet? Really?"

"I'm a sucker for a classic." He holds his hand up, palm facing you. "I was going to have it show back up on your pillow but..."

Slowly, he pulls his thumb across each fingertip before lashing out with a single violent flourish that suddenly replaces the empty space that once was with a familiar leather square. He gently tosses it to you and you immediately peel open the bill compartment and count silently.

"Oh come off it." John groans. "Is that necessary?"

"I dunno, 'Johnny Con-Job', is it?"

"I left you another card behind your debit. Like I'd need to steal from a civil servant." He grumbles, adding a barely audible 'wanker' that you choose to ignore.

"Of course, another card. What, magicians don't have phones?"

You pull the card free, it's shape folded and jammed tightly in the space. Strangely when you unfold the whole thing you can't pick out a single crease. You tuck your wallet away in your front pocket this time and clutch the card tightly between forefinger and thumb. You wiggle it at him as you talk.

"Stuff like this is why I'm gonna need you to help me with SIM before I give you that information. You know that right?"

"Yeah yeah..." He mutters waving you off. "Don't care in what order it happens, mate. Long as I get my shite back I'll be right as rain. Now... unless there's anything else?"

"No, nothing else. Just be ready when I..." You glance at the card sideways. "Call you."

The door creaks as John turns the knob and steps into the hallway, his coat billowing behind him. He turns on his heel and gives you a brief nod.

"Just uh... tell yourself it 'appened when you blink. It'll help with the headache.”

“Tell myself…? Wha-”

Then your eyes feel a shooting pain for the briefest of moments as the space that once held a full grown man is now completely empty. Nothing aside from the lingering scent of gin and tobacco smoke betray that he was there. The headache does set in, low and aching, as your brain tries to make sense of that sensory malfunction.

“Fucking magic.” You groan, using your toe to swing the door shut while you clutch your head.

Stepping back inside you pour a glass of water and a pill to help wash the pain away. It’s far from the worst you’ve had so you aren’t worried. Instead pulling out your phone as you sip and hitting a speed dial.

“DeLucia.” Reiner answers his phone flatly. “You speak with him?”

“Yes, sir. There’s only… one thing.”

A muffled sigh.

“Go ahead.”

“He wants access to the GCPD Database, looking for one Selina Kyle.” You speak the name slowly and clearly. “Resident, female, apparently in possession of stolen property of his.”

“Did he report it?”

“Uh no, sir. Apparently it’s a…” Fuck this. “It’s a magic firearm.”

“Of course it is.” He replies with an impressively even tone. “And that’s it?”

“That’s all he needed but there is something I need. Lauretta Zsasz, Vic’s mom. I need to find her body.”

“That’s a cold case just a few years younger than you. What for?”

“Part of my plan to handle Vic, sir. Give her a proper burial. Use my contact to put him in… well, contact.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“In contact with his mother? Even though she’s dead?”

“Yes, sir.”

“He can really do that?” His voice is a rushed whisper now, like he asked without even meaning too.

“That’s what he told me. Seeing as I told him he doesn’t get the information until Vic is handled. I believe him.”

“I’ll take your word on that, don’t make me regret it. There is an issue however, those files were federal. It’s going to take time to convince a judge or a bureaucrat to open them up for us.”

“I’m not sure if we have the time to wait, sir.”

“Well, unless you have any ideas the best we can do is put out the request. You’d be welcome to look into it on your own, but the case and its notes are property of the federal government.”

>”Understood, I have enough information to start looking into it without the case files. I’d still like it if you’d put in the request for it still.”
>”Do we still have that ARGUS liaison, Agent Gideon? I could ask him.”
>”Would it be improper to ask the Commissioner to reach out? I’m sure he knows somebody after all his time heading up the department.”
>Write-In

>>6404496

>”Understood, I have enough information to start looking into it without the case files. I’d still like it if you’d put in the request for it still.”
Seeing visions of living and dead Gothamites is kind of our thing.

>>6404466
Welcome back, QM! I hope things have mellowed out?

>>6404496
>”Do we still have that ARGUS liaison, Agent Gideon? I could ask him.”

Imagine the possibilities.

>>6404496
>“He can really do that?” His voice is a rushed whisper now, like he asked without even meaning too.
Oh no Reiner please do not start having ideas on seeing your dead wife and kid or something. That will NOT end well for you

>>6404529
If we ask Gideon, you know he'll try to make Mark owe him for it. You sure you want to owe a favor to the spooks?

>>6404496
>”Understood, I have enough information to start looking into it without the case files. I’d still like it if you’d put in the request for it still.”
I am leery of being in debt to ARGUS

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>>6404496
>”Do we still have that ARGUS liaison, Agent Gideon? I could ask him.”
I wanna deputize a shark man, a mutant weasel, an assassin, an Australian, and a clown-girl.

>>6404687
If we see any iteration of the Suicide Squad operating in Gotham, I'm gonna be advocating for their immediate arrest and re-incarceration.
If Waller doesn't want to explain why she's letting costumed crooks run around, she shouldn't expect LEOs to turn a blind eye to them either.

>>6404698
Being honest, if we didn't spend Constantine's favor and DID meet the Suicide Squad, I'd have used that favor (after the inevitable team up mission) to have John drop them off in Waller's office.

>>6404496
>”Do we still have that ARGUS liaison, Agent Gideon? I could ask him.”

>>6404496
>”Do we still have that ARGUS liaison, Agent Gideon? I could ask him.”
I don't like it, but we are short on time

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>>6404529
>>6404687
>>6404741
>>6404761

"Do we still have that ARGUS liaison, Agent Gideon? I could ask him."

"I've got a number, but that particular tick is attached to someone else at the moment, he's been working with the Mayor's office since Blackgate happened. ARGUS is putting pressure on the mayor to accelerate their timeline on assuming control. You got rapport?"

"Something like that. He said his boss was 'interested' in me."

"Hrm." Reiner grunts ponderously.

"Don't worry, sir. I already said no to the poaching attempt."

"Right... I'll text you the number, the Commissioner just got free. I'll let you know what he has to say regarding the database."

"Understood, I'll be waiting for your call."

The line dies and within seconds your phone buzzes with a new number to try. You waste no time as you also gather a paper and pen. You scrawl across the top as the phone rings; LAURETTA ZSASZ.

The trilling ring ends.

"Agent Gideon, how did you get this number?"

"Agent Gideon, it's officer DeLucia. Mark DeLucia, GCPD."

"Oh. Hello, officer. No offense, but my question still stands."

"I got this number from my Watch Commander. I was hoping to talk to you about something regarding a case?"

"Look, officer. I'm a very busy man, you of all people should understand how heavy my load is already. I don't have the time to be taking on anything new."

"Hear me out, it was something you were at least slightly interested in. Remember Lauretta Zsasz? The cold case."

"I do?" His tone going wary.

"I was hoping I could uh, get a copy of the case files. Unredacted."

"Excuse me?"

"I know you already helped me my giving me the details on her handler for the GCPD but I just found out that wasn't her only connection to the department."

"Officer DeLucia, I remember telling you that when I gave you that information that it would use up your favor with me. I meant it."

"I know that but this connects to the SIM case, I could stop him if-"

"Enough." He cuts you off. "I have too much on my plate to be dealing with the local PD on top. I do not have the authorization to give you anything that has been sealed and I have even less interest in bothering my chain of command with the question."

"Gideon-"

"Agent Gideon. Officer." He corrects you, putting extra emphasis on your title. When he speaks again his tone is lighter. "I'm sorry, but I have orders and responsibilities. Your 'SIM Killer' doesn't fall into that. Please don't call this number again."

The line goes dead and you let your phone clatter on the table as you toss it beside the paper. The heading staring back at you as you begin filling in everything you can recall...

File: WhoCouldThisPossiblyBe.png (2.17 MB, 1082x1179)

2.17 MB PNG

====

Somewhere in Gotham a recently silenced phone vibrates angrily in a suit pocket. The hand that grasps it belonging to another arm. When he answers it, the voice that comes is the owner of the arm. Her voice is scorn and order. Radio waves gnawed by electric mites that crawl into her ears. The arm moves and the hand obeys as the device falls silent again.

====

You stare at the list. You have her former residence, even if it wasn't official that leaves neighbors and other avenues to look into. Common door to door, people in those neighborhoods tend to stick around, you could get lucky. On top of that you have this new connection from Lauretta to Free, without the files you're sparse on information but there's an echo of a name... Mabel. Free's girlfriend or fiancée at the time of his murder, you aren't sure. But maybe his old personnel files have her number or a shared address listed? Beyond that there's 'Quebec' Lauretta's Pimp, guy like that would definitely have a rap sheet and the alias should be more than enough to find him. The only issue is the chance you end up chasing a ghost, you can't imagine most people making it out of their deals with Mandragora. Thinking of him brings up an idea you hardly think could work but exists as a hail mary.

Mandragora himself. If anyone would know where he'd dump a body it would be the man himself, only hurdle is how do you get a seasoned crime lord to even consider giving you an answer to that question? You could try to leverage SIM's desire to have him returned to Gotham. Risky. You could try bringing up his son but while he's still under Calc's thumb you aren't sure it would play well. You gnaw on the butt of the pen as you stare at the paper. All of these are options, some more valid than others, but you have to start somewhere...

>Ask the old neighborhood, you could pull phone records from city hall or do it the old fashioned way going door to door for interviews.
>Look into Mabel. You have no idea how much Free kept her in the loop on his professional life but it isn't uncommon for officers to bring their work home. Maybe she knows something?
>Pull Quebec's rap sheet. Finding a pimp in Gotham is a little like finding a needle in a needle stack, thankfully the nature of their business means you only need to search the stacks on the corners of Chinatown.
>Contact Mandragora. It's worth a shot... maybe.
>Write-In

>>6404875
>Pull Quebec's rap sheet. Finding a pimp in Gotham is a little like finding a needle in a needle stack, thankfully the nature of their business means you only need to search the stacks on the corners of Chinatown.

>>6404875
>Look into Mabel. You have no idea how much Free kept her in the loop on his professional life but it isn't uncommon for officers to bring their work home. Maybe she knows something?
At the very least, she may have a personal item of Free's that we can use for Shivers.

>>6404875
>Pull Quebec's rap sheet. Finding a pimp in Gotham is a little like finding a needle in a needle stack, thankfully the nature of their business means you only need to search the stacks on the corners of Chinatown.
Mandragora's the type to make people clean their own mess, right? He might have made Quebec dump Lauretta

>>6404875
>Look into Mabel. You have no idea how much Free kept her in the loop on his professional life but it isn't uncommon for officers to bring their work home. Maybe she knows something?
Let's go this way and look for opportunities to shiver as we do. We've been dealing with a lot of crooks and seedy types to get our answers lately, let's give Mark a bit of a break and talk to someone 'normal'.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6404994
>>6404974
>>6404969
>>6404904

1 for the pimp
2 for the would have been widow.

>>6404904
>>6404974
>>6405273

Quebec. You circle the name. Angelo's words from the vision come back to you: "Do your best to toss her somewhere discreet." Mandragora does seem the type to make others clean up their own messes. You stare at the name and let the pen tip tap gently on the margins as you stare at it.

Most of the 'organized' prostitution takes place in China Town's red-light district. Most of the players are known but they move around a lot, changing corners or sometimes even renting out storefronts for 'massage parlors' for days at a time before closing up and moving on. There aren't a lot of them around compared to the peak of crime in the city, a combination of Dent's policies and the rise of the self-employed working girl made their intake take a hit. GCPD locked down the ports and human trafficking nearly bottomed out entirely. But so long as Gotham has runaways and homeless they'll always find a way to make some kind of roster. That truth sours your stomach.

You grab your phone and scroll through the contacts slowly realizing you don't have any connections to Vice. Surely Hawthorne or Grey know someone who could-

Your thoughts are cut off by buzzing and your contact list is hidden by a pop-up of Agent Gideon's number. You tap it.

"Agent Gideon?" You ask quietly.

"I've been instructed to cooperate with you on any information requests you have regarding Victor Zsasz AKA The SIM Killer. I can produce the full, de-barred case file regarding Lauretta Zsasz." He speaks in a forced monotone, quickly, like he's working the DMV desk with a line piling up.

"Hold on a second. You said instructed, instructed by who?"

"My boss." He says simply. "I am NOT cleared to discuss anything other than the Lauretta Zsasz case with you nor am I permitted to let you KEEP the file. You'll have access to it under my supervision."

"So what I need to memorize it?"

"You're allowed to take notes, I will review them. Keep in mind, however, if you have anything deemed too sensitive or outside the scope of your investigation on SIM then I'll be forced to confiscate the entire page that the information is on."

"So I have to guess what will get my notes taken away?"

"You can ask. I was told to cooperate remember?"

"Sure seems like it." You grumble.

"There's..." He starts before trailing off, his voice hesitant.

"What?"

"There's a cafe in the diamond district, it isn't too far from your precinct. We can meet there." He speaks casually but you can still feel the weight of words unsaid.

"Isn't that a bit public for all the secrecy you're sticking too?"

"It's not as shiny as your badge but my laminate can clear out a building just the same. I can have the file printed and in front of you within the hour." He pauses for a moment and then adds: "If you're still interested in seeing the contents, that is."

>"I do, send me the address and I'll meet you there. I'm glad your boss recognizes how important this is."
>"I'm... not. Something weird is going on here, I don't like how you flipped so quickly. I'll chase my own leads for now."
>Write-In

>>6405324
>"I do, send me the address and I'll meet you there. I'm glad your boss recognizes how important this is."
Keep Shivers tuned, maybe ask a question of the Red Lady as to what changed. I think I know, though: Waller learned Zsasz is a meta, and wants him as an asset.

>>6405324
>"I'm... not. Something weird is going on here, I don't like how you flipped so quickly. I'll chase my own leads for now."
FUCK Waller and FUCK ARGUS, the last I want is to try and save Victor just to send him to Turbo Gestapo to some bullshit mission for that fat piece of shit.

It might be a little meta, but the implication of having Waller's attention being bad (and something even Gideon told us), and the whole plan that WE KNOW about what ARGUS is going to do for Blackgate can tell us the whole thing

>>6405396
+1

>>6405396
I agree, but we reached out to Gideon anyway. Why turn him down now?

>>6405403
Because we're offered help doesn't mean we're obliged to accept it, even less after we were told no. It was a bad idea to call Gideon in of itself, because now we'll have the glowies sniffing our farts when we go looking for Lauretta's body and surely when we do the ritual with Constantine. We just put ourselves a big target on our back to get swatted while we do the zoom call with her mom, fucking A

>>6405324
>"I do, send me the address and I'll meet you there. I'm glad your boss recognizes how important this is."
I know OOC that ARGUS is bad, and that they are surely interested because they have an inkling of Darkseid or something like that.
But we need to find this woman's body, like, today.

>>6405323
Fuck it changing vote from >>6405402 to
>"I do, send me the address and I'll meet you there. I'm glad your boss recognizes how important this is."

We can use the file and just play it super close to the chest. Mark doesn't have to be naive just because he is down to review the case file with a spook.

>>6405413
>>6405402
Fuck I'm being wishy-washy here wavering like this

>>6405389
>>6405396
>>6405403
>>6405405
>>6405411
>>6405414
Do you guys think the Quebec lead will be good enough to find the body? We might not need Gideon or ARGUS for this. The downside is we still attracted Waller's attention, but we can't ignore how pressed-for-time we are in this current state. What if the Quebec lead is cold because Angelo or somebody else had him offed afterward, and we NEED that file? Crawling back to Gideon/ARGUS will just make Waller happier, and we do not want that outcome.

>>6405437
Quebec will be helpful, but Q + file basically guarantees we locate the cadaver in the shortest amount of time, meaning more breathing room to prepare for Zsasz.

FIjcwxxZ at work here. I could go either way on the vote, but… Before doing ANYTHING ELSE, start the recorder. This sounds like a recruitment scenario, either for Zsasz, Mark, or possibly even both, and knowing what we were told about Waller, we should want any and every chip and card we can scavenge if she decides to play nasty.

Also, seconding asking a question to the Lady in Red, but a different one. “How did Waller find out Zsasz was a meta.”

Next, message one of our coworkers, maybe Hawthorne: “just heard that ARGUS’ holding a job fair soon.”

Also debating sending a notice to Q about us catching Walker’s eye (maybe with a mention of the Greek legend of why peacocks have such fancy feathers), and how to keep her claws off of us.

>>6405487
It sounds cool to try and play 4D Chess with Waller so she can fuck off and not get her grubby hands on neither Vic or Mark. Can he be officially "detained" by the JL, thus, staying out of the jurisdiction of ARGUS? Black van him into other side of the world where he will be kept in check? Sent to the same Tibetan monk temple that Batman went to?

>>6405324
>"I do, send me the address and I'll meet you there. I'm glad your boss recognizes how important this is."

>>6405389
>>6405411
>>6405413
>>6405702

"I do, send me the address and I'll meet you there." You take a beat and feel something, silent and heavy between you. "I'm glad your boss recognizes how important this is."

"She definitely does." Gideon replies grimly.

The call ends and that cements it in your mind. Something is very off here. The denial followed by the near immediate turn around. You check your call logs. Hardly more than three minutes between calls... Did he call his boss and tell her? No... doesn't make sense he'd already told you no. He's working with the Mayor, it's possible she'd be nearby? You shake your head, ignoring the buzz of Gideon's text and go to your room, pulling open the nightstand drawer and grabbing the tape recorder. Better safe than sorry.

Out the door again. A long day that only seems to stretch longer the closer the sun gets to the horizon. Achilles and the Tortoise showing themselves in the streaks of orange, pink, and yellow that manage to breach the cloud-layer. You start your car and head out.

====

You stow the recorder in the inner pocket of your jacket. You'll be a bit cold with a lighter coat but it shouldn't muffle the audio nearly as badly that way. You scope out the lot and see Agent Gideon standing by a Fed-Standard non-descript black town car minus the blackout tint. His face is stern and his hand rests firmly on his chin as he seems to just stare out into the road. You grab your notepad from the center console and step out into the dying daylight. Gideon clocks your movement instantly and comes out to meet you.

Just as you get close, you notice him drop something black and reflective onto his driver seat, the door flicks shut before you can get a good look at it. You feign pulling your coat tighter, feeling the button of your recorder depress down as you clench it through the fabric.

"Agent Gideon, maybe we could take this inside? Cold out."

"Not yet." He says, tone low. "This is the only time we're going to be able to talk without anyone else listening in."

"Listen-"

"Quiet. I can only play dumb so long. I have the file, DeLucia. From what I saw... It has what you need."

"Where her body was dumped?"

"Down to a street, but nothing past that."

"That's all I need, K9 and-"

"Stop." He sighs before glancing over his shoulder again. "I told you a long time ago that you did NOT want to get on my boss's radar. Well now you are, and the scariest thing about that is that I have no idea what her angle here is."

"Whadya mean angle?"

"The Office never does anything unless we get something out of it. Unless SHE gets something out of it. But my instructions, apart from the restrictions on this intel, were to help you. To do my best to give you whatever it is you need." He checks his watch and his Adam's apple bobs nervously. "And that's big because you are persona non grata in The Office. After our initial talk I was called into the office and told that you were Teflon. To stay off. Don’t recruit you. Don’t talk to you. Don’t even look at you. That favor I did you? That was supposed to be the hook, but then she dropped it.”

"What? Why?"

"No clue. But my job isn't JUST aiding LEO. It's recruitment, that’s why I was sent to Gotham. To try and recruit you and anyone else with promise. Agents in Metropolis, Central city, STAR city, National city, anywhere with an abundance of Meta-Crime. All doing the same thing and..." He trails off before checking his watch again and resuming suddenly. "Look, If I had to guess, you being on the good guys side is what got you blacklisted from poaching. But if you CHOOSE to get in bed with us it's different."

"Christ, why're you telling me this?"

"Because I hate this fucking job." He whispers with grim seriousness. "I was on track for Associate Deputy Director for the FBI. Chief of staff after that. She fucked that. I made small talk at a benefit for the agency. One phone call to the director later and I'm reassigned to a task force working a joint OP with ARGUS. 'Temporary.' they told me. A month goes by and suddenly the task force is closing and the office filled my position while I was gone. She gave me an offer that let me keep my pension; join ARGUS and put my 'people skills' to work for my country."

"She did all that just to get a recruiter?"

"She did all that because I had 'potential'. The same thing she's seeing in you right now."

"Why not just give me the file then? Give her the finger and help me stop a fucking mass murderer."

"Can't do that." He shakes his head, stepping back.

"Then just let me see the file. I can take pictures. You could just tell me the street even?"

"No. No no no. Your case is not worth blowing up my entire life, DeLucia. I can't let you."

"Why the fuck not!" You shout, he glances again over his shoulder and moves in to speak in a whisper through gritted teeth.

"Because this case, Lauretta Zsasz's murder, is a single fucking sucker on a single arm of the goddamned KRAKEN that is Mandragora's RICO case. It doesn't matter to anyone else but you, if I give you the name of the street will you be able to sit on it for a week? A month? I doubt it. No, I give you the street, it just means you rush there and I gamble on if you can lie well enough to convince them that you figured it out on your own. And if you can't? Getting fired, losing my pension, and being blackballed would be the GOOD outcome for me."

"So what? Walk away? Walk away because a hoo-" You stop yourself and proceed quietly, holding back this growing simmering anger. "She was a mother doing her best, Gideon. The murder of an innocent mother doesn't mean anything to the feds? Neither does stopping a serial killer?"

"It doesn't. It doesn't fucking matter, Mark. Not in the grand scheme of things. This is a carrot she's using to get you into whacking range for the stick. If you think you can dodge it then by all fucking means lets do it. But when we talk she's going to be listening." He places a hand on the handle of his car. "She's in my phone. I'm supposed to sweep you for bugs, recorders, anything else that can record. That's your chance to back out of this, come up with a good excuse and walk away. Otherwise, you're gonna be waiting for that other shoe to drop. Trust me."

>"It doesn't matter? Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck ARGUS. You're a spineless dick and I'll figure this out myself."
>"Not gonna lie, you got me a little rattled with that speech. Let's get this little show of me walking away over with so I can get back to investigating. Like I should have been from the start."
>"I don't like this and you're right, I probably won't like what comes after it. But I know it cuts the time SIM has to kill more people by a lot, so if that's what it takes I'm walking in with my eyes open. Bring out the file."
>Write-In

Additionally:
With everything you've heard so far, do you let Agent Gideon know you just recorded this conversation?
>Yes
>No



I find it funny that whenever I bring the feds into these situations there's always a marked increase in chatter between you guys. Guess it's easier to see when it glows in the dark.

Anyways, you guys are on a precipice that will determine something very important so I urge you to consider your choices and remember that the Write-In is always there and that there are no wrong choices. Looking forward to it whenever we get there. See you soon!

>>6405887
>"It doesn't matter? Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck ARGUS. You're a spineless dick and I'll figure this out myself."

With everything you've heard so far, do you let Agent Gideon know you just recorded this conversation?
>Yes
Additionally:
>How about you whisper the street name to me right now, or I hand this tape to someone who can get it to your boss? How’s that pension feeling now?

This is, normally speaking, highly unethical. However, Feds are not human beings. Therefore they are exempt from standard morality.

>>6405887
>"It doesn't matter? Fuck you. Fuck you and fuck ARGUS. You're a spineless dick and I'll figure this out myself."
And
>No
As much as I like the idea of extorting him, I think it would make him a foreal Enemy, give him something to tell Waller. He ends up being the coffee runner for the office as punishment and she sends Task Force X to give us a colonoscopy with a brick.

>>6405923
I strongly disagree. He explisitly proved that he is a human being by showing some sort of care about us despite his boss wishes. Maybe not good enough human being...But this will turn someone who symphatize with us into enemy.

And, I think by this point it is perfectly fine to assume (for Mark, without metagaming) that she wants to use SIM in some capacity.
>you were Teflon. To stay off. Don’t recruit you. Don’t talk to you. Don’t even look at you. That favor I did you? That was supposed to be the hook, but then she dropped it.”
>you being on the good guys side is what got you blacklisted from poaching

"So she recruits BAD guys" is reasonable conclusion. And NO-NO-NO! I`m all for saving his immortal soul (and then giving him life in prison), but to use him in some shady way would be a mockery of order and justice. Thus,>>6405887
>"Not gonna lie, you got me a little rattled with that speech. Let's get this little show of me walking away over with so I can get back to investigating. Like I should have been from the start."

>Additionally:With everything you've heard so far, do you let Agent Gideon know you just recorded this conversation?

Extremely hard question. We are in no position to wrestle with Amanda.
I tentatively think "No" anyway, but if we let him know - I think we should then delete it. I really don`t want to fuck with people who go out of their way to do us somewhat of a favor (And he is ABSOLUTELY doing that - he can be screwed just for this conversation alone? just...less of a favor that we would like).

>>6405887
>"Not gonna lie, you got me a little rattled with that speech. Let's get this little show of me walking away over with so I can get back to investigating. Like I should have been from the start."
>No
Good to have this in our pocket for futur... But this is why I didn't want to contact ARGUS in the first place. I hope anons who voted to do so understand as well, and are satisfied with this warning?

>>6405887
Actually fuck this, changing my vote. Waller is chapping my ass but I WANT that address.
>Write-in
>Reach out to shake his hand in a conciliatory manner: "I appreciate you telling me this. Sorry you got caught between us. I think you need to get right with God if you can look me in the face and say it doesn't matter. You haven't had to speak to any of the families. That truck load of dead bodies smells a lot different when it isn't a picture on a piece of paper." And when he shakes our hand we use our Shivers on him to try and clean everything he saw about the file, or his understanding of the address to gain it ourself.
As for telling him about the recording:
>No
Let's keep it, I think it'll come in handy possibly and if he knows we have it and we don't fork it over we are in huge trouble. I'm all for trouble in the story to keep it interesting, but we're too busy right now for that kind of trouble. If we do fork it over, he will be kinda pissed anyways and never trust us again.
>>6405959
Instead I would like

>>6406013
Dunno how this got out of order so bad, but this is my final vote, I think it's worth a shot even if it pisses him off a bit. It's not like he doesn't want us to know the info we are looking for, we should take it out of his hands so he can go back 'clean' and we get what we need.

>>6406013
+1
Even the feds have it rough huh. I want to do right by him and not have Waller kill him offscreen

>>6406013
Will Shivers work well on a guy without close ties to Gotham?

>>6406078
He maybe doesn't, but the information in his head/memories/etc that we are trying to access are very much tied to the city - he said it himself he's got it down to the street address.

>>6406080
How likely is it we can get the location just as well if not better from Quebec himself?

>>6406095
Mmmm... Don't know!

>>6406095
>>6406130
FIjcwxxZ again.

Well, we could do something similar to what we did using shivers for a route through Scarecrow’s place, or try to figure any important items or clothing Quebec had on him when it went down and use them as a dousing rod to find Lauretta‘s body or burial spot.

>>6405887
>"Not gonna lie, you got me a little rattled with that speech. Let's get this little show of me walking away over with so I can get back to investigating. Like I should have been from the start."

>No
HOWEVER, I wouldn't feel safe keeping the recording ourselves. I'd hand to Bats, but I don't want to annoy him anymore than we already have, so ideally we hand it to Gordon. He should be big enough of a fish to hold it secure, and know what to do with it should something happen...

>>6406013
>+1

Supporting this. Just want to note that this whole thing may be a setup to test our powers and confirm we are worth recruiting.

Can’t we just shiver the contents of the folder from his car at a distance?

>>6406446
What if we Shiver up Gideon instead? Try to look in only recent events like when he's reading the file, and maybe discreetly tell him we're gonna do that, while overtly telling him that we've got other ways to look up the info. So plausible deniability if Waller do track us, it wouldn't be weird that we found the place without her files. She wouldn't suspect it was from shivers (well, she would, but she got no evidence anyways).

>>6406587
That was essentially my pitch here:
>>6406013

>>6406587
Though, I will say, I don't suppose we should tell him up front that it's what we're doing. He might clock us, but it'll be too late. What can he do anyways? Tattle to Waller? He probably knows we can Shiver the info out of him and his heads up to not get in bed with ARGUS is all the more reason to peek over his shoulder psychically, imo. He'll probably be glad that he doesn't have to directly disobey his boss PLUS he manages to be useful to stop this killer.

>>6406013
>>6406014
>>6406023
>>6406287

You straighten up slightly and extend your hand, you fingertips the only part of you that gently tremors from the suppressed anger.

"I appreciate you telling me this and I'm sorry you're caught between me and your boss." When his hand finally reaches into yours you squeeze tightly. Maybe a bit too tightly. "But honestly? I think you need to get right with God if you can stand there and tell me it doesn't matter. Cause I was the one who spoke with the parents. I was the one who saw an innocent woman die. Felt it. Maybe you've been behind a desk so long you've forgotten that the bodies stink when they aren't pictures on paper."

He holds your handshake for a moment. The both of you stare at one another and you try, as subtly as you can, to reach into him with your shivers. Like fungal arms you can feel that familiar tingle travel down your arm, across the ridges of each fingertip.

You feel a pressure balloon and fill your inner ears like water. You feel the blister on his left heel, aching to burst. You feel a strange deep sense of sadness mixed with the stinging acidity of fear. A face appears in your inner mind of a young boy, he doesn't look too dissimilar to Gideon, while a face behind him is obfuscated by shadow and mist. Feminine and carrying another bile flavored emotion. You smell the missed wisps of smoke from a birthday candle, the sterile scent of hotel sheets, another man's cologne... You try to focus on the file but all you get is stale coffee on your tongue and the chalky fruitiness of antacids. A hundred street signs float by you but non of them bring themselves into focus as you were hoping.

He breaks from the handshake first and steps back, flexing his fingers. He offers you a silent apology with a tight lipped nod and you silently curse in the back of your mind. He may be in Gotham but he has no connection to it, at least that's the best you can make sense of everything that just poured into you. Not a single thing about the case, damnit.

"That means you're out?" He asks.

"It means I'm gonna get back to investigating this case like I should have from the start. We may as well give your boss her show and split so I can do that already." You feign impatience and clutch your coat again with two hands as you pull it tighter around yourself. You feel the solid click of the recorder stopping itself as you give a faux shiver. "Seriously, it's cold as hell."

"Sure thing." Gideon answers with something like relief in his voice.

He turns and opens his front car door and his voice shifts like a switch being flicked.

"Ah shit. Dropped my phone. It'll just be a second, Officer." He mumbles as he kneels to pull it from between his seat and the center console. If you hadn't been speaking with him just a moment ago you'd be decently convinced. People skills indeed.

"There we go." He says, tucking it into his suit pants. "Now I know I just told you that you won't be able to take the file home and I'll have to review your notes as I said on the phone. But there is an additional layer of security."

"Ugh." You groan, flexing your own acting chops. "How much of this do we really have to bother with. We're on the same side, right?"

"Absolutely." He says, bending at the hip to pull something from his passenger seat. A stubby black stick with a black rectangle attached to the end of it.

"The hell is that?"

"This is an NLJD, our internal lab found a way to make it a bit more compact. I'm just gonna sweep you for any listening devices and-"

"Woah, absolutely not."

"Officer DeLucia this isn't negotiable."

"I'm a cop, you don't trust me?"

"Trust has nothing to do with it, if you want access to our files then you'll need to let me sweep you."

"No deal."

"Officer, unless you have something to hide this shouldn't be an issue."

"I don't have anything to hide but I also don't like bullies. A woman died and I thought you could help."

"My help comes with conditions, Officer. Surely you didn't think I was gonna share this over a beer did you?"

"I don't know what I thought. But I know that my gut... and something extra... they're telling me to walk away from this. So I am." You begin your retreat and wave a hand dismissively.

"Honestly officer, you're being dramatic. Secrecy is the price you pay when you ask an organization like ARGUS to assist you on a simple murder like this, we have bigger fish to fry."

"Nice." You say, walking away now. "Y'know what? Fuck ARGUS and fuck you. You're a spineless dick and I'll figure this out myself."

Agent Gideon mouths the words 'spineless dick?' but otherwise gives you a simple solemn nod. That's about all you'll get from him you assume.

"Well, then all I can tell you is good luck, Officer. You'll need it."

====

Your driver's door shuts and the bustle of Gotham is sealed behind it aside from what goes on in your head. The whispers of the city and your own thoughts perform in dueling choruses as you pull out your phone and hit the contact list again. You stare at the glowing screen, you could easily call and get Quebec's rap sheet sent to you. The main issue you have is narrowing down where he could be working out of and you aren't exactly savvy to how a John would think. You need a guide.

>Text Hawthorne, he grew up in the grittier parts of Gotham and patrolled all the rest.
>Text Kimble, he's the kind of guy who'd purposefully put himself in places like the Red Light Slums. Probably has more than one snitch too.
>Text Grey, he's busy with the elements of the case he's stuck juggling. But you can't think of a better detective.
>Text Question, where you plan on going it could help to have a more... unique perspective and even more unique appearance to ensure answers.
>Write-In

>>6407538
>Text Hawthorne, he grew up in the grittier parts of Gotham and patrolled all the rest.
Been a while since we hung with our TO.

>>6407538
>Text Hawthorne, he grew up in the grittier parts of Gotham and patrolled all the rest.

>>6407538
>Text Hawthorne, he grew up in the grittier parts of Gotham and patrolled all the rest.
Missin' him

>>6407538
>Text Hawthorne, he grew up in the grittier parts of Gotham and patrolled all the rest.
Old man, you won't believe the shit these feds were trying to pull on us

>>6407536
>You feel a pressure balloon and fill your inner ears like water. You feel the blister on his left heel, aching to burst. You feel a strange deep sense of sadness mixed with the stinging acidity of fear. A face appears in your inner mind of a young boy, he doesn't look too dissimilar to Gideon, while a face behind him is obfuscated by shadow and mist. Feminine and carrying another bile flavored emotion. You smell the missed wisps of smoke from a birthday candle, the sterile scent of hotel sheets, another man's cologne... You try to focus on the file but all you get is stale coffee on your tongue and the chalky fruitiness of antacids. A hundred street signs float by you but non of them bring themselves into focus as you were hoping.
Divorced, his wife with another man, his kid away from him, keeping his son in mind and shutting his wife out as much as he can, missing the birthdays, sleeping away from the home, surviving off coffee and gas station antacid, never able to feel at home anywhere again until the day his job puts him in a grave nobody will know exists. This glowie's got a shit hand. So much for Mr. "formerly future Associate Deputy Director for the FBI", huh?

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>>6407561
>>6407567
>>6407585
>>6407586

You shoot Hawthorne a quick text asking about meeting and Quebec's rap sheet. He's been busy acting as Reiner's hands so you can only assume he'd be game for some foot work. The fact he's probably patrolled China Town longer than you've even been on the job is a bonus. Within a few seconds you get a reply back:

'Perfect timing was looking to leave. Meet at Red Lotus and grab a table. First floor.'

Your stomach growls as the thought of a greasy box of Chinese food runs through your mind.

'Sounds good to me. See you there.'

You stow the phone and shift into gear...

====

You twist the cheap cable of your earbuds as you stare into space, your free hand occasionally stirring the ice water that beads onto the table. The interior decor is a smeared collage of reds and yellows while Gideon's words play back to you in your ear. Can get it down to a street... The information is out there you just need to find out what steps were taken and hope that time hasn't washed the tracks. A hail mary but you've gotten by with less. The small booth shakes as Hawthorne drops directly in the path of your vision, shaking you from your thoughts. You withdraw the earbud while he stuffs an old coat into the space next to him.

"Do you do that on purpose?"

"Do what?" He asks, finally settling into his seat and plucking a menu from the side.

"Go around doing everything loud and heavy. You walk hard. You sit hard. Probably setting off seismographs."

"Well excuse me for not being as dainty as a fuckin ballerina, rook. Unlike you some of us had a real day of work."

"Fuck off." You reply with a laugh. "I had to sit across the table from Vic and bite my tongue while he tried to treat me like a frat brother. He brought beer to the meeting."

"Little fucker has manners at least." Hawthorne grumbles before clearing his throat and adding on; "You okay from all that? I got the short of it from Reiner after I shook Gorchakov by his ankles."

"Fine enough, more so worried about the plan moving forward. You end up getting anything from Gorchakov?"

"Nope. But he'll crack, just might take another push to get him to roll. Luckily I got Kimble on that."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. I moved Gorchakov from the cage to one of those solitary rooms we got, haven't used em since Dent took over and his bleeding heart got in the way." He snorts derisively. "Thankfully, last guy who used it musta had a date waiting for him when he got out cause he scratched a lot of tally marks in there to keep track of the time."

"So he spends the whole night looking at tally marks thinking about what you said. That's evil."

"Effective. I told Kimble I'd buy him breakfast tomorrow if he stays a little late and gives the outside glass a tap or two, really make sure Gorchakov is feeling the pressure."

"Evil." You repeat but you still smile a little at the thought.

Hawthorne looks to the side and you see his eyes light up a bit as he smiles and waves his menu. You glance and see a member of the staff march over with a cocked grin. A portly Asian man with clean styled hair and flushed cheeks.

"Ah." He says, tucking his hands into his apron. "I see my zodiac calendar is off, it says; year of sheep but I see now it must be the year of the pig."

"Excuse me?" You ask confused but Hawthorne just laughs dryly.

"Looking at you I'd have to agree, Vien. Got a little extra stuffing in your dumpling since I last saw you." He taps his own stomach knowingly and then points to you with the menu. "This here is my rookie, Mark DeLucia, if he ever comes in here without me to hold him back just make sure your boys in the kitchen don't stop cookin. He can pack it away."

"Vien Dang." The portly man offers you a respectful nod and a slight bow before looking back to Hawthorne. "He and I have known each other for a very long time."

"Mhm, Vien's been working here his whole life. I met him when I was in your shoes, actually." Hawthorne says. "It was my first armed robbery, stopped his old man from catching lead over ninety bucks."

"Gave me twelve more years with him." Vien adds on with a small smile.

"And to show his thanks, I get the employee discount for life. Fifteen percent and it isn't even for the whole joint! Just this floor.." Hawthorne says with faux entitlement.

"That's because this is the only floor I run, Mitch."

"Wait, only the floor?"

"Kid, you never been to Red Lotus before?" Hawthorne asks. "All five floors are all a different type of Asian food. You got Chinese on the base level, then Japanese, then Vietnamese, top floors are for Korean and Thai. Then they go and get the Vietnamese fella to run the Chinese food section."

"They just hired a new manager for the Vietnamese section actually." Vien offers.

"Oh yeah? What's he?"

"French." Vien says.

Both men laugh heartily, winding down with Vien shaking his head with a chuckle.

"What can I get you both?" Vien asks.

"Ah..." Hawthorne sighs. "We're here to talk shop, Vien. Can you do it how we used to? Finger food and a pitcher of water? A couple beers too, nothing imported."

"Of course." Vien says politely. "I'll instruct the servers to leave you be, if you need a refill on anything just leave the empty on the edge."

He backs away and Hawthorne turns his attention back to you.

"Should be a few minutes before they start bringing anything out." He glances down at the recorder and the earbud cable wrapped around it. "You get something from your meeting?"

"Not the meeting with SIM but... A meeting, yeah. Here." You pass over a bud and lean back.

====

A couple minutes later and you're handed back the earbud over a small steaming bowl of dumplings and another long rectangular plate of eggrolls. Hawthorne crunches down on one and washes the rising steam from his mouth with a cold beer.

"Fuckin spooks." He spits. "Never trust someone who has to wear a suit to work, kid. You made the right call stepping away from that shitshow."

"Did I? I dunno, could have made this whole thing a lot faster."

"At what cost? That's what you gotta ask yourself. I've interacted with these fuckers before, Mark, an arm and a leg is just the opening bid for these ghouls."

"Maybe, but now it's up to us to work this out against a clock."

"Then it's a good thing the two of us are good at our jobs. This has to do with that, I'm guessing?"

He pulls a sheet of paper from his jacket and looks down at it.

"Rodney Monteau AKA Quebec. Minor league player in the pimp scene, a few priors for soliciting and a single DV charge that was walked back."

"Any mainstays for where he hangs out?"

"Only one place to hang out for corner girls, Red Light Alley. RLA. All the other girls are either flying solo or they're one of the few 'legit' call girls for the players in the Diamond District."

"All of em?"

"Any girl who's cliqued up is gonna be working the RLA, Mark." Hawthorne tears open a packet of hot mustard with his teeth. "This is as civilized as turning tricks gets, every pimp kicks up a bit of money and they get to put their wares on display. Like a bazaar."

"Bizarre bazaar." You mumble. "Who do they kick up too?"

"Who do you think? Lin Huang. He's been head of the Triad around here for a long time, keeps his nose clean enough to irritate the feds but it's an open secret who runs China Town."

"Right." You sigh. "Does that mean we should be worried about triad muscle?"

"Nah. I told you, he keeps his nose clean. Hands're even cleaner when it comes to girls, lets the strip self regulate."

"So he's just the host? Come inside, don't break anything, and I won't have to call security."

"Bingo. Way I see it we have a handful of options. You aren't the first cop to need to pin down a pimp and you won't be the last, thankfully these pricks got rules."

"Rules?"

"They call it a game for a reason, slick. Keep up." He sets his beer down and leans on one arm. "Now the easiest way would be to go and spook one of the girls."

"Spook em? Like flashing my badge?"

"No..." Hawthorne's face goes grim. "Really scare her, that she could get hurt. That's when they'll send the SOS out to their pimp and with word about SIM starting to spread... probably won't take much.

"Jesus that seems a bit extreme..."

"Maybe, but maybe a good scare'll shake her loose from her current career path. Ignoring the moral issues you have with it, it's also a crapshoot. Pimp could be one of ten or more, I dunno. We could always try and work whatever Pimp we end up catching in the net but..."

"But if word gets out that cops are on the street it'll close shop for the night."

"Exactly. Next there's option two which is trying to sweet talk a girl. We can offer her a way out, protection, yadda yadda. I'm gonna tell you now though the odds of this happening are low. The zoot suit crowd keeps their girls scarce, no car, no place to stay, no friends except the other girls in his stable. Flipping em is HARD work but I've seen you work some magic before."

"What else is there?"

"The usual. We pick a girl and watch her, wait for her to get a customer and uh.. 'conclude' their business. Like I said, they keep their girls scarce, they don't want her to take that wad of cash and think about a bus ticket or a ferry ride. Seeing how 'Quebec' here seems to be a little fish I doubt he has the cash to employ runners."

"Meaning he'll come to pick up the cash himself. So what then?"

"I brought the travel lights. We light em up for a traffic stop and there we have em. BUT if we get spotted and caught out or we pull over the wrong one then it's the same as before. They'll close up shop and keep it bare until we lose interest."

"I mean..." You start. "There's always the really dumb idea I just had."

"Which is?" Hawthorne asks warily.

"We talk to that Triad gangster, explain to him that it'd be better for his ecosystem to hand over a little fish. Especially when it'll help stop the serial killer who has to be making things tense."

"You're right." Hawthorne says, picking up a dumpling. "That is a dumb idea."

>”Oh c’mon, we just need to frame it like a good business decision. Us finding Quebec means the boogieman for his girls is gone.”
>”Sweet talking is my specialty. Plus, I’ve seen where this road ends for these girls and I’ve also seen what it’s like on it. I don’t want to add anymore fear to that.”
>”Tried and true is the way to go, I guess. We better eat now cause it might be a long night waiting for one of Quebec’s girls to score a customer.”.
>”So… how far do I really need to go to ‘scare’ one of these girls?”
>Write-In

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>>6408077
These are all viable options, some more than others, and each with their own pros and cons in the long term.
While I don't really care much about our rep in the RLA, I'm also not keen to ruffle any feathers by scaring the girls or disrupting business. With that in mind...
>”Sweet talking is my specialty. Plus, I’ve seen where this road ends for these girls and I’ve also seen what it’s like on it. I don’t want to add anymore fear to that.”
I figure most girls looking for a way out would be receptive to Mark making them an offer. He's an earnest young man who cleans up nice, not to mention we do have one story in our pocket to really make any young working girl rethink her career.
I know hitting them with the mass casualty event and ensuing deliverance of the news kinda falls under scaring 'em and may be a no-no since it's part of an ongoing investigation, but I figure we can spin it as "I SAW that woman die and I don't want to see another". Not to mention people are already aware of Vic's hackin' and wackin' and smackin'.

>>6408077
>”My college major is in sweet talking. Plus, I’ve seen where this road ends for these girls and I’ve also seen what it’s like on it. I don’t want to add anymore fear to that.”
>”I minored in speaking officious asshole.”

>>6408157
+1
Lmao

>>6408157
+1 based reply

>>6408085
I like this idea, and while telling them about the corpse-van could create a panic in the city, I do think it would work as incentive to cooperate and get protection, if we're desperate.

>>6408077
+1 to >>6408085

>>6408085
>>6408157
>>6408225
>>6408268
>>6408299

"Please. My college major was in sweet talking. Plus, I've seen where the road ends for these girls and I've seen what it's like ON it. I don't really wanna add anymore fear to it."

"I understand these are women and so you wanna go kid gloves, but some of these girls are vets of the trade. Some of em are so deep in that they don't want out anymore." He pauses and wipes his fingers off on a napkin. "It's evolution. You know why perps sentenced on the far side of ten years have more than twice the rate of re-offending? Evolution. They adapted to life inside and then when they get out... it's not the world they remember. Not one they're ready for."

"It's like that for the girls?"

"It's like that for anyone stuck doing something they don't wanna do. Cons, prostitutes, soldiers..." He trails off. "Just saying, a 'major in sweet talking' might not exactly stick with some of these ones."

"That just means I'll need to use my minor in speaking officious asshole."

"Officious...?" Hawthorne grunts while he stabs a dumpling through the side with a lone chopstick.

"Yeah, it means like insisting on helping someone. Pretty sure you described it as me being a 'pit bull' once."

"So you're a pushy goody-two-shoes."

"Yep." You say simply. "If I can convince someone to walk away from this kinda life while we work on finding Quebec then it'll be icing."

"And if you don't it'll be a rock in your shoe." Hawthorne speaks with a mournful familiarity. "Just don't get too invested in the girl, whoever she ends up being, eyes on the prize."

"I'm focused, don't worry."

"Mhm. Well the only thing to do then is decide on a girl, we'll want someone younger and hopefully newer that hasn't locked themselves into this yet."

"What do we look for?"

"It's a gut feeling we'll need to go with. Pimps aren't like what you see in movies, they generally don't go around beating the hell out of their stable, they don't need to. They've probably set themselves up as the most stable thing in their girl's life. Like I said, the pimp doesn't let the girl hold onto or have anything that could help her walk away. He holds the cash, he buys the motel rooms, he drives the car. So on and so on."

"So the doesn't want to turn on him."

"So she CAN'T." Hawthorne corrects. "Nobody wants this life, Mark. But a good pimp can make a girl think it's all she deserves. It isn't a good life but it's stable, they talk or step out and it becomes unstable really quick and it's a lot easier to fear it'll get worse than to believe it'll get better."

"Damn..." You mumble, drinking slowly. "So what do we do?"

"Like I said, we need someone green to the trade. We're looking for girl's who're uncomfortable being out there. Look for someone who hesitates to approach the car to talk to a John, look for anyone constantly checking their phone, and look for a pair."

"A pair?"

"Mhm, just like me and you. Newer girls get someone to watch over em and make sure they don't walk into any obvious traps."

"Like us."

"Like us." He confirms.

"Alright so we identify a weak link, if a new girl is even on the roster, and then..."

"Then you decide how to approach her. Con her into thinking you're a John and once you're alone you can show the badge and see how that 'smooth talking' works for you. Could wait for them to turn in for the night but then we're hoping and praying we have our eyes on the right car when Quebec rolls around and they don't stand around socializing either."

"We could always still do the pull over play, right? Wait for them to get a legit John and then pull em over."

"Sure, could rattle her to see the lights but word'll spread fast. None of this is going down without the word about cops spilling, fast."

>"Better to keep it simple, we'll find a good target and wait for them to be picked up. A charge hanging over their head'll make it easier to get them to talk."
>"I can talk em into helping. I'll pose as a John and then show her the badge."
>"Let's wait until the end of the shift for em. We'll just need to make sure we watch like hawks, no way I won't recognize him."
>"Let's wait until the end of shift, if I can keep my Shivers going at a low level maybe I can get some sort of 'ping' or something when he's close?"
>Write-In

>>6408425
>"I can talk em into helping. I'll pose as a John and then show her the badge."

Good guy Mark, for better or worse.

>>6408492
+1 play to strengths

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>>6408492
>"I can talk em into helping. I'll pose as a John and then show her the badge."
”I’m gonna need a leisure suit, some hair grease, and a gold chain necklace that’ll turn my neck green. Mind if I browse your old wardrobe?”

It's "Mark talks to whores" episode. That could be fun.
>>6408425
>>"Let's wait until the end of shift, if I can keep my Shivers going at a low level maybe I can get some sort of 'ping' or something when he's close?"
Come on, superpowers! Hookers are pretty connected to the city by my estimation, the signal should be nice and clean. Just fish out the weak link that way.

>>6408543
+1, don't wanna overrely on superpowers and DO wanna see greased-up Mark DeLucia trying to be smoove, kek

>>6408425

>>6408492
This is me.

>>6408543
I would like to add this.

>>6408946
LOLWUT Look at my ID number.

I’ve been had boys, I’m secretly Mossad.

>>6408492
>>6408518
>>6408543
>>6408636

"I can talk em into helping. I'll pose as a John and then show her the badge."

"Better hope you're as suave as you think, rook. Mess up and the pimp pipeline closes down for a few days and we'll have to get creative."

"Meaning?"

"We'll cross the bridge if we come to it. It's a lot of bush shaking and rock flipping. Leveraging CI's. It might save us a day tops than if we just waited but I know we're on the ass end of the hourglass here so Grey, Kimble and I gotta pull out all the stops."

"Thank you."

"It's the job." He dismisses.

"Most of it but you've definitely gone above and beyond for me. More than once." You tilt your beer towards him and his eyes flick down to it before he raises his own and gives you a cheers.

"You on your period, rook? Thought I heard some quiver in your voice there."

You almost spray him with a shower of beer but manage to choke it down between laughs.

"You're such a dick."

"One of the perks of getting old. Don't gotta pretend otherwise." he chuckles back dryly. "Now if you're gonna be a John we gotta spruce you up a bit."

"I need sprucing?" You glance down at yourself.

"You're too clean cut, it'd be like the local kindergarten teacher asking for an eight ball."

"I don't-" You give yourself another once over, pulling on the neck of your shirt a bit. "What's wrong with dressing nice?"

"Alright... Let's dirty you up boyscout." Hawthorne grunts, lifting himself from his side and approaching you with the appraising eye of a fussy grandma. "Let's start with the shirt. Tucked in off hours? Are you a fucking psycho or something? Breathe in my face."

"Am I a psycho!? What the hell do you need me to do that for?"

"Quit your bitchin, I got a smell just now. Won't do." He waves an arm and catches Vien's attention. "You got cooking wine back there, right? Get me a glass."

Vien cocks a brow but still vanishes through a swinging door, returning a moment later with a shot glass half filled with caramel colored liquid. He sets it on the table and walks away with a nod.

"He doesn't ask many questions." You mutter.

"He knows better." Hawthorne replies, dabbing his fingers into the glass and flicking specks of liquid on your neck and shirt.

"What the hell?"

"Little babyface like you? You're not doing this unless you're drunk and since we can't have you shitfaced for real, we just gotta make it smell like it."

"Isn't being a drunk gonna scare em off?"

"Half their customers are doped out or in the bottle. Besides... you look more like a sad drunk than an angry one."

"Wanna bet?"

"Relax, relax." He says setting the glass down before looking at your hair. "You got pomade?"

"Used up the last of it at the sock hop actually." You reply snottily. "What's wrong with my hair? Not sleazy enough?"

"Not nearly, but those eggrolls were a little greasy so lemme just." He makes a move for your hair and you step back putting your hands up, half-joking.

"Sir, I'll let a lot slide. But there's no way I'm letting someone rub grease on my head again."

There's a pause and a look on Hawthorne's face makes you wonder if you were a bit too firm on that. Then his brow crinkles and he asks:

"Again? Who the hell rubbed grease on you the first time?"

"Not important. My hair is thick anyways if you just get me some water it'll stay back for an hour or two."

"Works. Get your wallet and take all your cash out, how much?"

"Uhh..." You rummage in your pocket and pull the leather square free. Spreading it and counting quietly. "Eighty something bucks."

"That's enough." He says simply. "Hand em the money first, pretend you don't know how this works."

"When I get her alone what do I ask? If she isn't one of Quebec's?"

"The girls all mingle. Especially the ones in Gotham, someone is gonna have a lead. Even if she doesn't the Pimps around here are in the same network, we'll nab hers and get the information from him."

"I'll try to avoid that if I can, don't wanna paint any targets on someone's back."

"Then good luck, rook." Hawthorne says with a pat on your face before he pulls out his own wad of bills and drops it on the table. "Tab's clear Vien, keep the change!"

=====

The two of you sit in the front seat of Hawthorne's car, tiger striped by the endless series of shadows between the blinking neon signs and steady red bulbs that dangle across the roads on wires. You watch a group of women, four of them, pacing the sidewalk.

"Now watch, she reaches the corner." He commentates as it happens live. "Quick scout around see if she can catch an eye. No bites. 180 and check the other corner."

"See any new ones?"

"Eh... the one in the bad wig. Could be a sign she's new and doesn't have her outfit set up yet. Most girls they have a dress code, try to keep themselves dolled up. Nothing definitive but..."

He trails off as you both watch an old Cadillac pull up to the curb. You watch intently as the girl with the lopsided wig shoots an ever so brief glance at a different woman. A blonde with a heavy fur coat, matching boots, and one of those old cigarette holders held between her fingers.

"I think Cruella there is her TO."

"You really gotta put it like that?" He grumbles.

"It's the same thing, what else am I gonna call her? 'Her master'?"

"Shaddup." Hawthorne growls jutting his chin out.

You both watch as Wig leans on the car window. There's a brief exchange and you see the silhouette of the man lunge as he leans forward and grips her arm. Your hands tighten into balls but you don't move, instead taking the time to memorize the license plate, Hawthorne sideyes you and nods approvingly. Whatever the dispute was it ends when Cruella opens the delicate flap to a clutch purse. You can only barely see the flash of gun metal before the brake lights die and he's pulling off in a hurry.

"Bingo." Hawthorne says with satisfaction. "We found mama bear. She's gotta be a top earner if she's helping introduce the new fish, probably the top girl for whatever stable she's in."

"What about the other two?"

"Blondie there is hanging back, she may have made quota and isn't exactly keen for overtime. Could mean she wants out, could be a soft spot. The other one? No shot."

"Why not?"

"Look at what she's wearing."

"Skirt, leggings, some kind of sleeveless biker style jacket?"

"And long sleeves. These girls make a living selling skin, son. Look at the rest of em, nothing below the knee or past the bicep. All the coats? They wear em half off. She's covering track marks or bruises. She's..." Hawthorne trails off, a sudden glaze settling over his eyes as he stares at her.

"She's what?"

"Bargain goods." Hawthorne says grimly. "Probably on her way out. Probably the whole reason there's a new girl learning the corner."

"Really? But 'on her way out' means what exactly?"

"They don't do 401k or retirement for these girls, Mark. Best case scenario is that getting dropped from the stable shakes her enough to send her home. If she has one."

"She's not going home, not with the amount of drops and god knows floating around here. Jesus."

"She might not even be coherent if you try to pick her up, or she'll be fiending. Either way she can't help us..." Hawthorne sighs and it's like a switch flips as he lifts his chin a bit and looks to you in the dark. "Pick your poison."

>"No need to make things harder on ourselves, I'll pick up the new girl for intel and see if I can't get her to walk away before she's in too deep."
>"New girl might not even know enough to be helpful... I think I should go for Cruella instead. She might be harder to crack but if she's a right hand she knows it all."
>"Blondie. I'll see if I can get her to bite, maybe leverage a way out for the intel if she is looking for an exit."
>"She might not able to help us, but I can help her. I'm picking her up and seeing what she can tell me, maybe she can still kick this junk."
>Write-In

>>6408961
>"Blondie. I'll see if I can get her to bite, maybe leverage a way out for the intel if she is looking for an exit."
I figure somebody like her has been around just long enough to pick up some actionable intel and become dissatisfied with the reality of her position while doing it.
Anyways, my heart goes out to the new girl and the biker, but we're not really in a position to shepherd lost souls at the moment.
Also I'm gonna assume Hawthorne is only half right about the biker chick. Long sleeves like that hide tattoos just as well as cuts and scars, and there's only one type of sleeve anybody would bother hiding in Triad turf. If my hunch is right, she would complicate things MASSIVELY in the short term.

>>6408961
>"Blondie. I'll see if I can get her to bite, maybe leverage a way out for the intel if she is looking for an exit."

>>6408961
>"New girl might not even know enough to be helpful... I think I should go for Cruella instead. She might be harder to crack but if she's a right hand she knows it all."
Bear with me, but I think the "van full of corpses" thing will work well on her. Some of those people might be her friends, and if we make it clear we care a lot less about trying to end all prostitution in Gotham than in stopping a supervillain serial killer, she might help. She's have the most intel.

>>6408983
+1
This is probably not the first time cops have gone undercover to get to prostitutes to ask them about intel to help track down a Narrows serial killer. This is Gotham City after all. It's all serious until Batman has to fight people on top of a giant typewriter or printer or some other bizarre comic book setpiece or office staple

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>>6409177
I think Mark would actually have to be piss-drunk to pull off "I WANT BOTH OF YA!" convincingly. Because there's only one man who can deliver that sentiment earnestly while sober.

>>6408961
>"New girl might not even know enough to be helpful... I think I should go for Cruella instead. She might be harder to crack but if she's a right hand she knows it all."

>>6408961
>"Blondie. I'll see if I can get her to bite, maybe leverage a way out for the intel if she is looking for an exit."
This probably isn't Cruella's first rodeo, and I'm pretty sure we can't divulge the specifics of the SIM killer without breaching confidentiality. That would make it extremely difficult to get details from her.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>6408979 Blonde
>>6408980 Blonde
>>6408983 Cruella
>>6408991 Cruella
>>6409412 Cruella
>>6410347 Blondie

Tie ball game. Rollan

1 - Blonde

2 - Cruella

>>6410441
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o3hHsVtqNFQ

"Blondie, I'll see if I can get her to bite. Maybe leverage a way out for intel if she's looking."

"You think so?" Hawthorne asks, rubbing his jaw.

"The new girl could be so green she knows nothing. It's not impossible she just got here within a week or less."

"And what about Madame? I saw you eyeing her up."

"She probably has more experience with cops than I do. I can't imagine this is the first time GCPD has had to ask some... working girls for help dealing with some of the creeps who lurk around em. Wouldn't be her first rodeo."

"Shit, rook." Hawthorne chuckles. "Glad to see what I say doesn't go in one ear and out the other."

"I've always been a good student."

"Yeah welp, time to prove it." Hawthorne pops open his glove box and removes a small glass bottle with a fiery orange-brown liquid.

"What's that?"

"The Pièce de résistance." He chuckles before leaning low and spraying you across your knee with something smokey like charred wood and something spiced that you can't place.

"What the-" You pause, your nose tingling from the sharp scent. You sneeze and Hawthorne jerks the bottle away like it was made of gold. "What was the point of that, I thought I needed to smell like booze?"

"Yeah well, now you smell like a guy who's trying NOT to smell like booze. Which is what a real boozehound would do. Blondie there might be bored but she aint stupid, better to overprepare than underdeliver."

"Sure." You mumble, lightly fanning your leg to waft some of the scent away. "Does that mean it's time?"

"Sure does, I'll be watching ya. Now get out."

"Me get out?"

"Yeah. YOU get out. You're taking drops if you think I'm letting you use my baby to pick up a hooker! Besides, you're a sloppy drunk who’s out curb cruising in China Town, you aren't driving an American classic around for that. You'd drive a... y'know."

"What? Something like MY car?"

"Well yeah. It's a cheap little beater and you leave fast food wrappers in it for Christ's sake. There's a goddamn penny that's been welded to the bottom of your cup holder. I've seen it!"

"It's not a beater..." You say quietly, looking out the driver window at your beater.

"Quit sulking and get out there, Casanova ." Hawthorne says, pushing your shoulder with a wide mitt. He throws a long leg over the center console and slides into the driver seat as you stumble out the door.

"Bullshit.." You murmur alongside a couple other curses as you head for your own vehicle. But it isn't until you drop into the driver seat that the absurdity of this sets in on you and you feel... guilt?

It isn't like you're actually hiring a prostitute.

You turn the key.

Nothing is gonna happen anyways so it doesn't matter.

You shift into drive with a wet palm.

Why can't you stop thinking about Allison right now?

Your foot gently depresses the gas as you pull out onto a neon street.

It's new and weird but this is just work...

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You round the block once and re-emerge on the far side of the street. All the colliding voices both foreign and domestic start to fall away as you get closer. The face of Allison goes with it and all you can find yourself thinking about is Makana Kaiwi. Any sort of knot in your gut loosens then as you take a slow breath and focus up.

You can see the pinpricks of light as they stare at you from the dark, trying to make it just obvious enough. You slow down near the blonde and lower the window. She approaches your window with energy of a drive-thru employee. Her eyes are sank, at a distance you couldn't notice the deep dark circles and frayed skin around her top lip. Your brief pause to glance over her must have been too long because she huffs, stepping away.

"No window shopping, get on." She says.

"Wait!" You blurt out. "I'm uh.. sorry. I haven't ever... y'know."

Play up the lonely schmuck angle.

"Mhm." She hums, her eyes go up glancing around. You resist the urge to peek over your shoulder and trust that Hawthorne is well out of sight. "What're you lookin for?"

"Company. Nothing uh... in depth." You try not to cringe. "If you know what I mean."

"Uh-huh." She says bored. "Hundred roses."

"Hundred roses?" It takes a second to click before you pull a crumpled set of bills from your pocket. "I have eighty two, here."

You lean forward to hand it over but she takes a single step back, her jaw clenched.

"Hold on." She says curtly.

She digs in her pocket and pulls out a phone. The blue light illuminates her face which is looking far from pleased. Her nails clack against the screen as she types rapidly. She taps one final time before crossing her arms and staring down the phone with dull eyes. Something must come through eventually because you see her shoulders drop a bit as she steps back up.

"Alright." She says. "80's good. But first."

She walks to the front of your car and crouches low, there's a flash, and then she's walking back and letting herself in on your passenger side.

"What was that?" You ask meekly.

"Anything happens to me or I don't call my man in fifteen minutes then he's gonna use that picture to find out who you are and where you live. Understood?"

"Y-yes."

You sit there in awkward silence for a moment before she furrows her brow and taps her phone screen.

"Well come on, that fifteen minutes has BEEN ticking."

You shift into gear and pull off from the curb. She took the bait but now you'll need to think of a way to reel her in....

=====
It's been a while so allow me to refresh you guys on 'Social Boss Fights' as I've weakly named them. You may remember from earlier threads and if so, you know what to do. But as a recap: Below there will be three >options but you only need to vote for what you care about. You can vote in all three as well if you want. Attitude, General, and Verbatim. Attitude will be the only vote that has a "winner", the others will be included/touched upon in the conversation. Below is a brief description on what each >option means.

Attitude: The general mindset Mark has going into the conversation and will direct how he responds to certain things. This is to avoid stopping the conversation every couple back-and-forths for a dialogue wheel vote.

General: Got something you want brought up in the conversation? Want to ask something specific but don't want to do a write-in style vote where you type it as Mark would say it? Vote general and then include what you want to come up, I'll make sure it get's touched on.

Verbatim: Your usual Write-In Style answer where you write as Mark would speak. Want him to say something specifically? Vote Verbatim and drop your line.

=====

[Conversation Attitude]

>It's obvious she doesn't want to be out here doing this. When you show her your badge you'll make sure she knows that your main priority is getting her out of this situation she's in however you can.
>She doesn't want to be doing this but neither do you. You don't have to be a dick about it but this is your job. Show her the badge and offer her the classic ultimatum, she scratches your back with Quebec then you scratch hers with help off the street.
>Like it or not she's doing this work. If she asks for help you'll provide it but after she sees the badge she needs to know that the information she can give you is vital if she doesn't want other people to die. If she doesn't then that blood may as well be on her hands.
>Write-In

>General

> Verbatim



>>6410448
This is one of my favorite songs funny enough. I used to have the classic jacket with all sorts of pins for Bad Brains or Black Flag but in the middle of all of them was a hot pink 'Call Me' button with Blondie on it. Good taste anon.