"…Based on the foregoing reasons, the prosecution's motion to dismiss the charges is hereby granted."
"It is hereby ordered as follows:
1. The murder conviction of the defendant, Otis Flannigan, is vacated.
2. All charges against the defendant, Otis Flannigan, are dismissed with prejudice.
3. Blackgate Penitentiary shall immediately release the defendant, Otis Flannigan. His detention is void as of the date of this order.
4. This order is final."
A copy of the verdict was passed around among a few people, finally returning to the black-eyed Otis's hands.
"I heard you were crying hysterically in court yesterday afternoon and almost got locked up again for contempt?"
Jay tapped the newspaper that had just arrived this morning. The front page showed Bob giving an upright, eloquent speech to reporters.
"Look, the boss stole the show far more than you did. 'Saving every lost soul'—I didn't know he could talk with such gravitas."
"I… I was too excited at the time." Otis smiled sheepishly, carefully folding the verdict and placing it gently into his inner pocket.
"Thank you, Captain. Thank you, everyone."
He suddenly bent down and bowed to Jay, then bowed to Allen and the others one by one, only to be grabbed by Wilson.
"A bow is not enough. You have to treat us to a fun round of drinks!"
"No… no problem." Otis's expression suddenly became awkward. "Can it wait until I get my back pay next month?"
"You expect a guy without a paycheck to buy you drinks? Besides, you're the only one who didn't lift a finger." Jay scoffed. "You make the arrangements, I'll cover the bill. But this has to wait a bit. We have enough trouble right now."
He turned his head and shouted, "Allen!"
"You stay at the precinct," Jay patted the paperwork expert's shoulder, then signaled to Nygma. "You watch him, don't let him work himself to death."
He pointed to Wilson: "Since you're so keen to come to work, go next door and keep an eye on the construction crew. Don't let them slack off.
We need to get the forensics and medical examiner's departments set up quickly. Tell them I'll give them a personal bonus of two hundred dollars for every day they finish early."
"Also…"
"Captain, someone's here for you!"
Jay looked up to see a limping figure walk through the precinct doors.
"Cobblepot!"
Though this was expected, he hadn't anticipated the man would voluntarily show up at the precinct.
"Hello, everyone."
Cobblepot gave a slightly shy wave to the group. "Jay, Mr. Falcone hopes we can work together to bring the criminals who are disrupting Gotham's order to justice as quickly as possible."
"Yes, that's right," Jay laughed softly, walking out of the office while asking Cobblepot in a low voice, "I guess Falcone doesn't trust you that much. How did you get him to agree to let you handle this?"
"Why don't you guess again?" Cobblepot hobbled along behind him, responding with a quiet laugh.
"I'd guess you used retreat as advance, recommending someone else to him, maybe Victor Zsasz. He might have thought you were planning a subtle move, maybe even a coup, so he sent you away to deal with the problem."
The smile on Cobblepot's face gradually froze, and he followed Jay toward the police car park without a word.
It wasn't until they reached the lot that he sighed and said, "Jay, you shouldn't be so smart!"
"Huh?"
Jay was instantly confused. How did the word 'smart' apply to him?
If he were smart, how could he have failed to get into college in Gotham, where everyone has a PhD?
"You're absolutely right," Cobblepot said with a somewhat gloomy expression. "I suggested that the valiant Mr. Zsasz lead the team to deal with this crisis, but Mr. Falcone rejected the proposal.
He said he reached an agreement with you to temporarily avoid a large-scale purge, so I was sent to cooperate… or rather, monitor the police's actions. Ah! Thank you!"
He ducked into the passenger seat of the Crown Victoria after Jay opened the door. "Why aren't we taking your…"
He spread his arms wide to indicate a larger size. Jay closed the door and fastened his seatbelt. "I'm afraid some people might feel ashamed if they saw it. Oswald, you must have James Gordon's number."
"Of course, Jim is also my friend. He saved my life once, and I never forget that." Cobblepot chuckled gleefully. "Do you want me to contact him for you?"
"Yeah, just tell him we're coming to see him now. The East Precinct can't handle… can't solve this case alone. We'll meet at Central Precinct's parking lot."
…
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flickering intermittently, casting unsteady shadows over the rows of parked police cars and concrete pillars. The Crown Victoria rolled over a small, damp patch of motor oil and settled into an empty spot.
Jay turned off the ignition, and silence instantly descended inside the car, broken only by Cobblepot's slightly embarrassed and irritated breathing.
He had called his friend, his Jim, and although Gordon agreed to the meeting, his tone treated him like a criminal from start to finish.
"Jay, he… I treat him as a friend, he shouldn't…"
"Of course, I completely agree with you on that point. The guy is just stubborn," Jay rolled down the window and waved to the figure walking toward them in the distance between the vehicles. "Hey, Detective Gordon, over here."
"Yes, it would be wonderful if Gotham had more reasonable police officers like you, who wouldn't misunderstand law-abiding businessmen like us."
"Stop it, Cobblepot. You have absolutely nothing to do with 'law-abiding.' It's just that for me, the law is a tool, not an ideal. Hey!"
He opened the car door and jumped out, extending a hand to Gordon who had walked closer: "Good morning, Detective Gordon. I'm Captain Jay of the East Precinct."
The boastful undertone of the statement made even Cobblepot, standing nearby, frown, but Gordon simply smiled, swept his trench coat, and shook Jay's hand.
"James Gordon, currently in charge of the Gotham Police Major Crimes Unit."
JAY: (╯‵□′)╯︵┻━┻
Leading the MCU? What's the point of showing off now!
Jay frowned in thought and asked doubtfully, "Then where did the former head, Peter Grogan, go?"
"He said his health wasn't great lately and transferred to Homicide," Gordon said with a look of helplessness, knowing he was stepping into a hot seat. "Don't talk about that. Your association with him…"
He pointed to Cobblepot, who had just climbed out of the car, "…will get you into irreparable trouble one day."
"It's nothing. Mr. Cobblepot is a reasonable partner. His boss suffered a loss, so of course, he'd come over to check things out," Jay patted Cobblepot's shoulder. "Let's get to business. Falcone must have called you to his manor too, right?"
"That's right," Gordon nodded. "I told him the police would catch the culprits, and I warned him not to take rash actions. It won't benefit him."
Ugh!
Jay felt his blood pressure rise. Seriously, bro, are you perfectly capable of turning friends into enemies in every necessary communication?
He took a breath and motioned to the two men: "Let's talk in the car. We need to consolidate the clues."
…
"A disciplined group of heavily armed, masked thugs. The leader has violent tendencies, and they currently have seven million dollars in old, non-sequential bills." Jay looked at Gordon in the back seat via the rearview mirror. "What else?"
"That's all I've seen so far. 'Get out of this city.' Clearly, they want to replace the Roman," Gordon thought for a moment and said, "This is a huge undertaking. Where did they get the people and the guns? Who is the biggest arms dealer in Gotham?"
Both men's eyes instantly focused on Cobblepot in the passenger seat, who immediately raised his hands.
"It really wasn't me. I also watched the footage. Half the guns they used were Eastern European standard-issue weapons. Logically, they most likely would have flowed out through me… Of course, I only handle the business for Mr. Falcone.
But I checked all the customers who bought Eastern European weapons in the last year. Their shipments were small, and the weapons are all still in their possession. As you know, there hasn't been a war in Gotham in the last year."
He shrugged. "Perhaps they brought the weapons into Gotham themselves?"
"War…"
Jay repeated the word, then suddenly asked Cobblepot: "Oswald, if you were planning to take down Falcone and take over, how would you do it?"
"Heh heh… Why would I? I would never…"
"Stop it, hurry up and think. I said if," Jay snarled, impatiently cutting him off. "If you keep making excuses, I'll let Falcone know this is real."
"Oh, oh… I… I would… first stir up conflict between him and other gangs, and then win over his other subordinates to support me," Cobblepot was startled, blurting out the answer instinctively.
"The conflict has already started," Jay mused. "Then the next step…"
"He wants to replace the Roman, which means he's aiming for control, not just massacre," Gordon suddenly interjected from the back. "The next step should be to rally those subjects."
"Recruitment and attack might happen simultaneously, but…"
Both men's eyes landed on Cobblepot again. "Oswald, he's going to come for you."
"For me?"
Cobblepot's eyes darted around. "You two want me to… collect intelligence for you? Although we are friends, this is far too dangerous for a businessman like me."
"It's not that easy. Don't start thinking about conditions yet," Jay shook his head. "You're notoriously clever.
He won't trust you; he'll only ask you to supply him with weapons and ammunition, not bring you into the team. If you refuse, he'll find a way to bloodbath your bar anyway."
"My… bar… Uh-huh," Cobblepot smiled. "Then again, if he requires my services…"
"It's not service. It's submission."
Jay sneered. "Think about those three guards. This guy isn't the type to let you surrender and keep half your assets.
If you make a mistake with Falcone, he might still give you a chance, but this guy will just use a lead pipe to break your other two legs and all your bones, then seize your inventory and supply routes."
"Don't even think about playing both sides. You had better be careful not to back the wrong horse."
——————
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