The "Why So Serious? Gotham City Noir" RPG

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Selina arrived at the party a while after it had started, exactly like she expected, her deep red dress stood out in the sea of black and dark gray suits and as she moves through the crowd she could notice several heads turning towards her. This was her first appearance amongst the rich and powerful men of Gotham, she had made sure to make a few donations here and there to get herself included in this circle, but very few people knew her name and as far as she knew, none of the other guests would be able to connect her name to her.

Being mysterious always worked well for Selina and the less these people knew about her, the better.

She picked up a glass of champagne from one of the passing waiters, sipped on it slowly before she resumed walking among the guests, a soft smile on her lips as she noticed eyes on her.
 
Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part V

"...And so I said to the 'Rabbi, Hey, Why not just cut it down?'" Everyone laughed at my corny jokes and playful anecdotes. Some genuine, some false. I grin at them all as I squint toward the doors, looking for more people to bore. Someone catches my eye. "Excuse me ladies and gentlemen. Have a great night."



"Lieutennent Gordon!" I say practically jogging over to the man. He looked on edge, from what I've heard he always does. "Harvey Dent." I say shaking his hand. "I've heard so much about you."
I take Harvey's hand, but I don't look him in the eye. I'm scanning the room for familiar faces. I see Bruce Wayne talking to Rachel Dawes, the Assistant District Attorney. Shouldn't she be in protective custody? Maybe I've got my information wrong.

Finally, I look back at Harvey and respond, "Likewise, Mr. Dent. I'm hoping that you can become a good ally for the police of Gotham City."

I think about what I just said.

"The honest police of Gotham City, that is," I add.
 
I take Harvey's hand, but I don't look him in the eye. I'm scanning the room for familiar faces. I see Bruce Wayne talking to Rachel Dawes, the Assistant District Attorney. Shouldn't she be in protective custody? Maybe I've got my information wrong.

Finally, I look back at Harvey and respond, "Likewise, Mr. Dent. I'm hoping that you can become a good ally for the police of Gotham City."

I think about what I just said.

"The honest police of Gotham City, that is," I add.

Harvey Dent

Invitation to a Party, Part VI

"Quite right, Quite right." I nod. "I happen to know which category you fall under Lieutenant. Your own of the best cops this city has. I'm just extending my gratitude. Please, eat, drink, dance and socialize to your hearts content."

I noticed my name being shouted from across the room. It was Chase. I could see his name mouthing the word 'Speech'. "Would you excuse me Lieutenant." I said, patting him on the back. "Seems a I'm wanted over there."
 
[?]THE RIDDLER[?]


The Gotham PD had been trying to force a reaction that could lead to the capture of ‘The Riddler’ for nearly three days now, and still nothing. Whether they were thankful that he hadn’t committed another crime, or even more on edge was hard to tell, because lately, the whole of Gotham PD was up to it’s neck in trouble.

Siren’s screeched out in the night, fuelled by an anonymous tip off. Apparently another victim had been discovered with the question mark signature of the illusive Riddler.

The first few men on the scene were met with what appeared to a business man, bound and gagged, laying face down in the mud a little off the main track of Gotham park. His back had a question mark scorched into it, which was stained green, most likely through copper oxidisation to display the colour which the assailant used. It was definitely an escalation of sorts, but to what end?

The body seemed hunched over something, but what exactly was unclear, as the officers radioed for backup before touching anything. A green envelope lay beside the corpse, tearing through the paper, hoping to find a clue that could give them an immediate direction in which to take the preliminary investigation, what they got was another logic puzzle….


My First is in Blaze, but not in Haze.
My second is in Explosion, but not in Experiences.
My third is in Massacre, but not in Sacred.
My fourth is my First.

What Am I?

[?]
 
GOTHAM GAZETTE

RISE AND FALL

This week’s indubitable riser is OSWALD COBBLEPOT. Owner of the Iceberg Lounge and a man surrounded by rumours, Cobblepot has secured himself ownership of the Palomino Club and Michaels Industries. Michaels Industries has had a consistent place on the Fortune 500 since its creation and it will surely put more money into Cobblepot’s already well-lined pockets. Of course, Felton Michael was reported to be not amused by the take-over, and has even disappeared from Gotham all together. Coincidence? Considering that Michaels’ ex-wife Olivia will be running the business from now on, there may be more to this story than meets the eye.

Falling the deepest this week is none other then our own GOTHAM PD. In the last week alone, the murderer known only as the Joker escaped and dealt with his opponents in a rather explosive manner. Progress on the Gotham Knights case has been non-existent, and it looks like there’s a new killer in town by the name of ‘the Riddler’. Looks like the Major Crimes Unit has headed into what will prove to be quite a turbulent year.
 
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"Please, Rachel. You have to understand. If anyone found out who I really was, they'd come after everyone I knew and cared about. The Joker, Crane, The mob. Trying to hurt me by hurting you."

I look again, Rachel's stare is still unyielding and unflinching.

As she kept walking through the crowd, Selina noticed Bruce Wayne, the playboy himself in what seemed to be a pretty intense conversation with the woman she recognized as the DA Rachel Dawes so she felt like it was the perfect time for an interruption.

Selina made her way towards them, waiting for a split second of silence between the two before she took a couple steps closer, effectively and smoothly stepping almost between them, her back turned towards Rachel as she smiled at Bruce, her voice in a low pitch but lout enough for him to hear her;

"Mr. Wayne, such a pleasure to be invited into your house..."


 
As she kept walking through the crowd, Selina noticed Bruce Wayne, the playboy himself in what seemed to be a pretty intense conversation with the woman she recognized as the DA Rachel Dawes so she felt like it was the perfect time for an interruption.​

Selina made her way towards them, waiting for a split second of silence between the two before she took a couple steps closer, effectively and smoothly stepping almost between them, her back turned towards Rachel as she smiled at Bruce, her voice in a low pitch but lout enough for him to hear her;

"Mr. Wayne, such a pleasure to be invited into your house..."

"Please could you give me...."

The words in my mouth sputter and come to a stop as I look at the woman who interloped into my converstation. Her beauty takes me off guard for a moment.

"...A moment?...Umm, never mind."

Rachel starts to back away, I have to keep my persona up. Besides, Rachel and I can talk later. That way we'll be far away from prying ears and eyes.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor."

I turn on the charm, flashing the same smile that graces tabloid covers on a weekly basis, and extend my hand to the woman.

"Feel free to eat all my food and drink as much champage as possible, miss?"
 
"Please could you give me...."

The words in my mouth sputter and come to a stop as I look at the woman who interloped into my converstation. Her beauty takes me off guard for a moment.

"...A moment?...Umm, never mind."

Rachel starts to back away, I have to keep my persona up. Besides, Rachel and I can talk later. That way we'll be far away from prying ears and eyes.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor."

I turn on the charm, flashing the same smile that graces tabloid covers on a weekly basis, and extend my hand to the woman.

"Feel free to eat all my food and drink as much champage as possible, miss?"


Selina smiled up at him, cocking her head to the side slightly as she placed her hand in his, turning the outer side of it up gently as she chuckled softly and looked him in the eyes.

"Kyle." She said in a soft, yet deep voice "Selina Kyle"

Being on the good side of one of Gotham's richest men was definitely in her plans but she couldn't deny Bruce Wayne was gorgeous.
 
Selina smiled up at him, cocking her head to the side slightly as she placed her hand in his, turning the outer side of it up gently as she chuckled softly and looked him in the eyes.

"Kyle." She said in a soft, yet deep voice "Selina Kyle"

Being on the good side of one of Gotham's richest men was definitely in her plans but she couldn't deny Bruce Wayne was gorgeous.

"Selina Kyle. I'm not familiar with that name."

I take a swig of my fake champagne, I'm giving off the impression that I'm tipsy. There's something so familiar about her, like we've met.

"Are you new to Gotham? I don't think I've seen you at any of the other social events"
 
"Selina Kyle. I'm not familiar with that name."

I take a swig of my fake champagne, I'm giving off the impression that I'm tipsy. There's something so familiar about her, like we've met.

"Are you new to Gotham? I don't think I've seen you at any of the other social events"


She smile, taking a slow sip of her champagne too and watching his face over her glass as she did so, Selina lowered her glass and with a soft shrug she nodded;

"I suppose you could say that.", she paused "But I have the feeling you will be seeing more of me."
 
Rachel shook her head disapprovingly and slowly but silently excused herself by backing away from the pair. Bruce was evidently more interested in the beauty of the young woman before him than the chance to repair a damaged friendship; unfortunately for him, as he was no doubt aware, the necessity to maintain his 'playboy' persona was costing him much. Rachel moved to the food table, positioning herself beside Adrian and announcing her presence with a gentle nudge. He glanced up from the lavish buffet and turned to face her, greeting her once again with a warm smile.

"Did you see the boss?" he enquired, a flavoured crisp crackling between his teeth as he spoke.

Rachel shook her head. "No. I started a conversation with Bruce, but you know him...a mindless bimbo in a short skirt walks into the picture and he goes blank."

Adrian sneered, before reaching over to grip her shoulder reassuringly. "He may be Harvey's new best friend, but that doesn't mean you have to waste your time on him. He's just some loser with money. And any loser with money can pass themselves off as a good person." He paused. "But that doesn't mean that they are. You deserve better than him."

Rachel looked to the floor, half-nodding in reluctant agreement. "Yeah, I guess so..."
 
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“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“Ah, Jesus,” Del Arrazio exclaims as he sees the body. “What kind of a psycho case did you talk me into, Joe?”

Detective Joely Bartlett can’t help but smile a little

“Now, Sarge, you know damn well,” she starts, before she stops and stares at the crime scene.
“Joe?” Del Arrazio asks as he looks at her and then to the scene as well.
“What’s the riddle accompanying this?”
“Uh,” Del Arrazio replies. “My first is in blaze, but not in haze. My second is in explosion, but not in experiences. My third is in massacre, but not in sacred. My fourth is my first. What am I?”
“In blaze, but not in haze.”
“Blaze, haze? What the hell is he trying to say? That doesn’t even make any sense!”
“It has to.”
“What?”
“It has to make sense, or he’d be breaking his own rules.”
“Guys like these don’t play by any rules. Not any of ours, that’s for sure.”
“We need to look at this logically.”
“Logically?!” Del Arrazio protests.
“Vincent.”
“Okay, talk me through it.”
“My first is in blaze, but not in haze… it’s a puzzle. There’s four letters.”
“So?”
“The first letter is either a b or an l.”
“And the rest?”
“My second is in…” Detective Bartlett begins to mutter as she takes out her notepad.


“Sarge?”
“Yeah?” Del Arrazio replies, desperate for the solution to the riddle.

Terrified, Bartlett holds up the notepad, which spells out the word: BOMB.

“Ah, hell,” Del Arrazio replies, his eyes widening in terror. He quickly turns to one of the other officers on the scene. “Get me the bomb squad here, on the double!”

* * *​

“Hey, partner,” Del Arrazio says as he comes up to Bartlett with two cartons of coffee. She’s sitting against one of the squad cars, watching the bomb squad leave. The entire scene is lit by the lights of the sirens. Del Arrazio leans against the hood of the car as he hands her the coffee.
“Thanks,” she replies as she accepts and then cradles the cup of coffee.
“We can’t keep cleaning up after this guy’s mess.”
“I know.”
“It’s time we tore up the rulebook.”
“It’s time we nail this bastard,” Bartlett responds as she lays her head a little against his shoulder.
“You got that right, partner. You got that right.”
 
IC: LIEUTENANT GORDON

After Harvey leaves me, I find myself standing alone in the middle of the party. Mingling isn't my strong suit. So I decide to make conversation with someone. I make my way over to Rachel Dawes as she's talking with someone.

"Tell me, Miss Dawes," I announce in my authoritative 'cop' voice, "Where is Detective Montoya? I thought I heard that she was taking care of you in protective custody."

Rachel looks at me with the expression of a teenager who's just been caught sneaking out of the house.

I lean in closer, smile, and allow my voice to soften to a normal tone. "How about we make a deal? I won't tell if you don't."
 
G.K.L.X. PRESENTS: ‘LET’S TALK ABOUT IT’

“Hey guys, Angie Molina here, presenting to you another exciting instalment of ‘Let’s talk about it’! Today I’ll be sitting down with John Law, author of, among other books, the bestselling book Altered Egos: The Mystery Men of World War II. We’ll be talking with him about his latest novel, Man of International Mystery, an investigation into our very own rumoured mystery man, the Batman!” the woman says as she smiles at the cameras. “First though, here’s a word from our sponsors!”

* * *​

“Want a taste of the great life? Take a bite out of our new specials, including the Gotham Burger!”

* * *​

Applause from the public fills the room as the ‘ON AIR’ sign is turned on again.

“As I already said, we’ll be talking with John Law today about his new book, called Man of International Mystery, so please welcome him onto the show!” Molina says as she plasters a fake smile on her face and turns to her guest. “Hey, John, great to have you.”
“Great to be here.”
“Let’s talk about your book here. Man of International Mystery, for people that don’t you know, you like to write about the so-called mystery men, don’t you?”
“Well, they’re not so-called, Angie, they’re very real,” Law replies with a little laugh. “Hell, I should know. I was one of them!”

Another round of applause is heard.

“Now this is very different from your earlier book, Altered Egos, isn’t it? That dealt primarily with the second World War.”
“That’s right, Angie. I decided, or rather, my publisher–” another round of laughs, “–decided I needed to do something contemporary.”
“So you decided to go after our very own Batman. Have you met him?”
“You know I can’t say that, Angie.”
“C’mon, what’s a few secrets between friends?” she replies conspiratorially, not forgetting about the audience for even a second. “Just you, me, and a whole bunch of our friends.”

She smiles as she says that and waves exaggeratedly to the public, who erupt in applause.

“Now, seriously, John, you did meet him, didn’t you?”

John Law simply laughs.

“I guess we’re going to have to read the book for that, huh?”
“You got that right.”
“What can you tell us, John?”
“That everyone that reads the book will learn a little something they didn’t know about the Batman.”
“A little hint, John?”
“Well, I can say this,” Law replies as he turns to the camera. “Batman doesn’t exactly live in a mansion.”

Once again, the crowd erupts into laughter.

“Thanks for coming, John,” Molina says as she reaches over to shake his hand. “John Law’s latest book, Man of International Mystery will be on sale tomorrow at every major bookstore. Now, John, I hear you will be signing the book at one of the stores in the city tomorrow, is that right?”
“That’s right.”
“Can you tell use where?” she asks, the fake smile once more on her face.
“I’m afraid I can’t, Ang. It’s a mystery signing, after all!”

The audience and Molina laugh.

“John Law, people!”

Applause once more.

“We’ll be returning to talk to noted businessman Michael Caine after these messages. Stay tuned!”
 
She smile, taking a slow sip of her champagne too and watching his face over her glass as she did so, Selina lowered her glass and with a soft shrug she nodded;

"I suppose you could say that.", she paused "But I have the feeling you will be seeing more of me."

"I hope so."

I flash a cheeky smile. Even though it's part of my act, there's something about this woman that intrigues me.

"If it's not too much of an inconvience to your schedule, I'd love to take you to diner sometime."

The Batman in my head screams at me. This will be just another distraction and will more than likey hinder my mission. But for once, I cast his thoughts aside. For just a moment, I'm Bruce Wayne again.

"Mr. Wayne! Bruce Wayne!"

I turn to see a man wearing a fedora along with a tuxedo trying to get my attention. He's accompined by a red headed woman in a black cocktail dress.

"You'll have to excuse me. Please, think about what I said. Call the manor and talk to me or Alfred to set up a time."

I make my way across the room and he shakes my hand.

"Alexander Knox, Gotham Globe. This is Vicki Vale. We work Gotham's city beat."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Wayne. It's a fabulous house."

"Thank you, Miss Vale. Although in many ways, I still consider it my father's house."

"Yeah, lots of rich things. So...can I have a grant?"

The three of us laugh as Vale pulls out a tape recorder and Knox starts to scribble on a notepad.

"So, with this party you're endorsing Harvey Dent as DA?"

"Yes, he's a great man. He believes in Gotham City and I believe in him."

"What about Rachel Dawes? Word is that you two or childhood friends. You wouldn't like to see her in charge."

I laugh as they keep taking notes.

"Yes. Rachel is a good friend. Had she seeked the office, I would have endorsed her. But like I said, Harvey has a fire and passion that this town needs."

"Umm...sir?"

Alred taps me on the shoulder and points over towards the food table.

"Mr. Fox would like to talk to you."

"Thank you, Alfred. Mr. Knox, Miss Vale."

I start to turn away from the two reporters, but I tap Alfred and point to Knox before I'm out of earshot from the two.

"Alfred? Give Knox a grant."

"Cash or charge?"

"....Ummm?"
 
PSYCHOLOGICAL PROFILE OF ‘THE RIDDLER’


The starting point for examining this persons actions is the same as any other. Why?


Generally, the style of the crimes and the messages tend to suggest that they are battling for intellectually superiority, possibly due to inferiority in physicality, and as a result of being shunned at some stage in the past, which has led them to exhibit their more brutal side.


However, the crimes are not about the killing, the only clear motive is the one of intellectually combating those in authority, in this case, Gotham PD. The messages are quite conclusive that the killing is not the enjoyable part of the crimes, rather the chase and thrill of outwitting opponents even after they have been told what will happen.


As with the majority of serial killers, the suspect is thought to be male, or at least masculine, due to the victims, and the statistical factors. The ability to overpower each victim also suggests a masculine presence as no drugs or sedatives were detected in the toxicology reports on the victims. HOWEVER, this would contradict the physical nature established via the supposed mental state, which renders both of these observations inconclusive.


The use of explosive material, shows a destructive edge, one which was directed at authority, drawing up what the suspect sees as a game, being very clever to not reveal any clues other than the intentional ones left at the crime scenes or sent to the PD.


Often with these cases, the suspect returns to the crime scene, especially in the recent case of the bomb threat, it would be desirable for him to see how his scheme pans out. The level of intelligence we are seeing exhibited seems to suggest that he would not make things obvious in respect to returning to the crime scene, and may even have electrical surveillance, as to avoid direct detection.


In terms of occupation, we can determine there is a lack of satisfaction from it, and a state of detachment and anomie has developed. The intellect displays could be evidence that this person has a more abstract way of generating revenue, which is further enforced by the lack of any theft from any of the victims.


In conclusion, we are most likely looking for a Man, late thirties to mid-forties, living in and around the Gotham area, with a massive ego and superiority complex. Who has at some stage in the past seemed shunned by others, and is fuelled by a desire to outclass those in positions of authority.


Report compiled by

E. J. Lowe
BEHAVIOURAL SCIENCES DEPT.
 
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It always starts with a dame, and what a dame. They used to call her ‘Poison’, I never did figure that out until now, ‘till all the pieces finally came together. I guess the whole thing started at the beginning of the new year, my office has just opened for business and she was the first person who walked in, and as soon as I saw her, I didn’t’ care if she was the last person to walk through those doors.

She was dressed in a dark green dress that somehow managed to shimmer in the dim light of the smoky room. Her legs were smooth and seemed to reach up from the floor all the way to heaven, full red locks swayed past her shoulders and down her back with every step she took towards my desk. Leaning in, emerald eyes captured my gaze as my mouth went dry just at the sight of her beauty.

“I need a man. For a job.”

I would’ve answered straight away but something was stopping me, her voice was so luscious and velvety that it’s sound almost caressed my ears. And the scent, it was how you’d imagine angels to smell, a little like sweet honeysuckle.

How could I have known that murder could sometimes smell like honeysuckle?
 
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Reaching across the desk, her hand slipped into my top pocket, I could feel her warm as she drew out a cigarette and pulled it into her luscious lips, pouting as her lipstick marked it’s end. Speaking out from the corner of her mouth, yet still possessing more elegance than a choir of seraphs.

“You gotta light?”

She could have asked me for anything right then, and she would have got it. I grabbed a match and pit with all the conviction I could muster, as if my very life depended on lighting that little cancer stick in her mouth.

As the smoke filled her lungs, I almost felt jealous of it, it’s closeness to her. The tarry smoke she exhaled still managed to smell sweeter than any florists, I thought I was dreaming, little did I know it would end up being a nightmare.

“Need a man? For a job.”

Inside I felt as if my attempt to impress was already failing, the thought of what the job was hadn’t even occurred to me yet.

“Yes, there’s a man you see.”

My heart stopped for a few beats at the mere mention of another man, before returning to it’s hugely racing state.

“He’s following me, and I need him…….dealt with. Could you be the man I need?”

Yes was already my answer, long before any questions rolled off the tip of her sensual tongue.

“Sure. I’m all yours…”
 
Oswald is annoyed as he reads through the Gotham Globe. He reads an interesting article about Harvey Dent and growls. Oswlad then throws the paper in the trash can.

He gets up and lights a cigarette and puts in his holder. Taking a couple of puffs he watches the security monitors.

That pretty boy D-A is making life difficult for me to get any information from the D-A's office. Ever since he took over and cleaned it up I haven't heard nary a peep. There's only one thing really to do...take down Harvey Dent the question is how? He is so squeaky clean the Pope looks like the devil when compared to him

He notices that the club's business is rather brisk and gathers himself.

For another time...time to greet the guests.

Oswald mingles through the Iceberg Lounge main floor greeting the guests and making small talk along the way.
 
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“A man that doesn't spend time with his family can never be a real man.”
~ The Godfather (1972)

“Yo, Del Arrazio, your little psych report came in!” Sergeant Davies yells towards Del Arrazio as he walks into the squad room, a file under his arm. With a loud ‘thunk’, the Sarge drops it onto the Detective’s desk. “Happy hunting.”
“Thanks, Jackson,” Del Arrazio replies as he starts reading.

“What’s that?” Detective Joely Bartlett asks as she sits down at the desk opposite of Del Arrazio.
“Pysch report.”
“Yeah, what have they got?”
“Listen to this: ‘The use of explosive material shows a destructive edge’. Yeah, thanks, Doc.” Del Arrazio snorts. “I bet all he wanted was to host a tea party with the C4 he placed under that guy Knoxville.”
“Who is the report by?”
“Lowe from the Behavioural Sciences Department.”
“He’s pretty good.”

Del Arrazio looks up from the file to stare at his partner.

“What?”
“‘He’s good’?”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. He’s good.”

Del Arrazio keeps looking at his partner in disbelief.

“What?!” Bartlett now asks, starting to feel a little intimidated.
“Forget about it.”

Del Arrazio turns back to the file, looking at the other information gathered about the bomb. After a few seconds of silence between the two, Del Arrazio looks towards his partner again, but thinking the better of it, turns back to the report again. Bartlett has taken a few of the pages to read through herself, and every few lines she smiles, which Del Arrazio catches just from the corner of his eye.

“So,” he begins as he looks at her again. She looks back. “You know him?”
“I do.”

Silence again falls.

“You slept with him, didn’t you?”

Joely’s jaw drops as she looks at her partner.

“How can you ask me that?”
“Just, you know, the smiles. The ‘he’s good’. You slept with him, didn’t you?”
“What’s it to you?”
“Gave him a ride on the Bartlett horse, huh?”

Rather than respond, Bartlett grabs the Gotham Gazette, and after rolling it up, smacks Del Arrazio with it. They laugh as Del Arrazio throws up his hands in defence and she gives him another slap with the paper for good measure.

“Detective Sergeant Vincent Del Arrazio, I swear, if you weren’t my partner…”
“If I weren’t your superior, you mean.”

That comment results in another hit with the paper.

“And for your information, no, we did not sleep together. We went out on a few dates, that’s all. He was a real gentleman.”

Del Arrazio just snickers as he goes back to reading.

After a while, Del Arrazio turns to his partner again:
“So, you get anything from that report that I didn’t?”
“Nothing special,” she replies, shooting him a look. “Bomb was made by an expert though. Bomb squad had a bit of trouble with it. Intricate circuitry and all. Military stuff.”
“We know of any bomb specialist like that?”
“None that isn’t in jail, or you know, in the military.”

They sit for a moment, lost in thought.

“Wait a second.” Bartlett breaks the silence as she takes the crumpled Gotham Gazette and folds it back out, showing the front page to her partner.
“Decorated soldier Joe Rigger returns to Gotham,” he reads out loud from the paper. Taking the paper from her hand, he continues reading: “Decorated soldier Joe Rigger returned to Gotham City yesterday, after learning that most of his relatives had recently died in a building accident. Rigger served as a demolitions expert while in the army…” he finally trails off.
“Looks like we got ourselves a prime suspect, for the bomb at least.”
 
After Harvey leaves me, I find myself standing alone in the middle of the party. Mingling isn't my strong suit. So I decide to make conversation with someone. I make my way over to Rachel Dawes as she's talking with someone.


"Tell me, Miss Dawes," I announce in my authoritative 'cop' voice, "Where is Detective Montoya? I thought I heard that she was taking care of you in protective custody."



Rachel looks at me with the expression of a teenager who's just been caught sneaking out of the house.​



I lean in closer, smile, and allow my voice to soften to a normal tone. "How about we make a deal? I won't tell if you don't."

Rachel grinned, her initial nervousness around the Lieutenant dissipating at his quip. She winked in a mock conspiratorial manner, before turning back to Adrian and gesturing towards Gordon. "Adrian, this is Lieutenant Jim Gordon. He's the guy that's been trying to keep me safe for the past few weeks...Jim, this is my colleague at the DA's Office, Adrian Chase. He helps me lock up the bad guys you catch."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant," Adrian said warmly, reaching out to shake the officer's hand. "I've heard a lot about the good you've been doing."

"You're a hero where we work, Jim. God knows what you're doing at this party, though...let me guess, Mr Wayne invited you to make himself look good for the press?" Rachel mumbled, rolling her eyes.
 
Alberto arrived late to the party, as was his plan. Johnny was following him into the entrance hall.

"Right Johnny, mingle and act cool. If you find any potential bribes, tell me and I'll work em over. I wanna have a look at Wayne and I'll try nd get a look at this Dent guy. New DA, may be nice to have a couple of friends around. Oh and there was a laywer that nailled a couple of Moxons goons. I wanna get her a drink," he said. Johnny nodded, and walked off into the crowd, grabbing a glass of champagne as he went. Alberto did the same, taking a small sip before looking around the room. His eyes locked on three people deep in conversation. One of them was a cop, not quite sure what he was doing there from the look of him. One of the other two he recognised from a newspaper article as Rachel Dawes. He wandered over, champagne in hand.

"Hello there Miss Dawes. I was very sorry to hear of your unfortunate accident with those members of the Moxon family. Such a shame when people resort to violence, I've always thought. Still it could've been prevented," he said looking at the cop "Apologies, I should introduce myself. My name is Alberto Falcone, I've just returned from studying law in england. Sad to see that Gotham hasn't changed," Alberto said smoothly, flashing a prize-winning grin and offering his hand.
 
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I stroll up behind Lucius Fox, who's in the process of eating a cracker with a cheese cube on it.

"I hope you enjoy that cheese, Alfred had it flown in from Switzerland."

He turns and smiles, crumbs of crackers still on his face.

"Mr. Wayne. Good to see you."

We shake hands and I look at his face.

"You got a little bit..."

He wipes his face as the realization dawns on him.

"Oh, thank you."

"So. How's my company doing?"

"Stocks are high. We're still in the arms business, but we've been slowly getting out of it and trying to edge more towards medical supplies."

"How about the Applied Science division?"

He smiles a knowing smile. Lucius Fox is too smart to not know what I'm doing with my spare time. I've tried numerous times to tell him, but he turns a blind eye.

"Actually. There is something that's right up your alley."

"Go on."

"It's a project we were doing with Military Intellegence. A vehicle called the whisper. It's a small, one person aircraft. It was designed to allow a single operative to get in and out of a hostile area quickly and quietly. Capable of vertical take off, it doesn't need a runway to take flight. The engine sounds like a ghost. Nearly radar invisible, capable of breaking the sound barrier. It's a damn shame the goverment didn't want to move forward with it."

I arch my eyebrow and look at Fox.

"Hmm..I might just have a look at it sometime soon."

"You'll have to talk to my sucessor in the department. A fellow named Harold Allnut. A rather bright fellow, a bit absent-minded, but a genius in his own right."

I nod and pat Lucius on the shoulder.

"It was good talking to you, Mr. Fox. I'll see you on Monday."

He smiles and turns back to the snack table.

"See you then, sir."
 
AT THE PARTY: PART II

“Let’s just go, John,” Chas Chandler says as he tries to escort his friend out the door.
“Sod off, Chas, I can snog who I want to.”

The man pushes away his friend and seeks entrance back into the main room, when he suddenly finds himself flanked by two security men.

“Is there a problem here, sir?” one of them asks.
“No, no problem, my friend’s just a little drunk.”
“&^%# yeah I’m &^%$ed.”
“Sir, we’re going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Sod off,” the man says again, but he’s forcibly stopped by one of the guards’ hands on his shoulder. The man struggles for a moment, but finally admits defeat when the other guard helps his colleague and together they lift him off the ground.
“Just spare the face, yeah? It isn’t pretty as it is.”

With a loud <thunk>, the man lands on the steps to the mansion. His friend follows behind hurriedly.

&#8220;%&^$ing yanks,&#8221; the man spits at the door.
&#8220;C&#8217;mon, John, let&#8217;s go back to London.&#8221;

Chas Chandler helps his friend up and the two move down the steps the proper way.
 
I don't trust this guy as far as I can throw him. Then again, that's almost second-nature to me. It doesn't help that this is a Falcone either.

Without taking his hand, I ask rather harshly, "Falcone, eh? Looking to take over the family business now that The Roman is out of the picture?"

Maybe I'm wrong about this. Maybe he was studying law, and maybe his intentions aren't crooked. But if there's one thing being a Gotham City cop has taught me, it's to ignore the maybe's.

Everyone is guilty until proven innocent in this town, sadly.
 

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