"Come on, come on..."
Gordon's hands gripped the steering wheel. His eyes burned holes through the windshield, locked on the road ahead. In the passenger seat, Marco clutched his injured side. The convoy tore through the old district, sirens wailing, red and blue lights painting the buildings in strobing colors. As they turned onto the main boulevard leading to GCPD headquarters, Marco caught the first glimpse of fire reflected against the low-hanging clouds.
"There," he said.
Gordon didn't respond. His foot was already flat to the floor.
By the time the assault van screamed into the GCPD parking lot, the flames had mostly died down. A few officers were wrestling with a fire hose, spraying water at smoking windows on the east side of the main building. The brick facade was scorched black in places. Shattered glass covered the pavement, crunching under tires as the convoy pulled to a stop.
The evidence vault building stood adjacent to the main structure, its steel doors hanging wide open. But unlike the main building, it looked relatively intact. Two bodies lay in spreading pools of blood near the entrance. An ambulance had already arrived, paramedics working frantically on the downed men. But even from thirty meters away, Marco could tell it was futile. One of the victims wasn't moving at all. The other was twitching, limbs jerking in that way bodies do when the nervous system is shutting down but hasn't gotten the memo yet.
Gordon was out of the van before it had fully stopped, boots hitting pavement at a run. Marco followed more slowly, one hand pressed to his bruised ribs, the other resting on his sidearm.
"SOMEBODY TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!"
Officers turned, some looking relieved to see him, others looking like they wanted to disappear into the pavement.
Gordon zeroed in on a captain trying to slip away into the crowd. He grabbed the man by the shoulder, spinning him around.
"Dominic, talk to me. How long ago did they leave? Which direction?"
Dominic looked like he'd aged ten years in the past hour. His face was streaked with soot and sweat, his hands trembling as he tried to light a cigarette. It took him three tries to get the lighter to work.
"I don't... The evidence vault, it's always been William and Matthew running it. But tonight it was just the two of them. They'd sent everyone else back to hold the main building."
He took a shaky drag from the cigarette, eyes not quite focusing on Gordon's face.
"Then about twenty minutes ago, we heard shots from over there. Brian and Nelson went to check it out. Soon as they cleared the door, they got dropped. Multiple shooters. After that, nobody..."
He trailed off, looking at the ground.
"After that, what?"
"After that, nobody went out." Dominic said it fast. "We killed the lights, barricaded the doors. There was gunfire coming from all directions. Had to be at least a dozen of them. We couldn't—"
"You couldn't what?" Marco stepped up next to Gordon. "You couldn't step outside to help two officers bleeding out on the pavement? Fifty cops inside, and not one of you thought maybe you should return fire?"
Dominic's head snapped up, his face flushing red. "Who the fuck are you to—"
"I'm the guy who just spent the last two hours getting shot at," Marco interrupted. "So yeah, I think I've earned the right to ask questions." He gestured at the evidence vault. "How many shooters did you see? Or were you too busy hiding under your desk to count?"
"We were pinned down!" Dominic's voice rose. "They had us surrounded! What were we supposed to do, charge out there and get slaughtered?"
"You were supposed to be cops," Marco said flatly.
Gordon held up a hand before Dominic could respond. "How long have they been gone? Which way did they go?"
Dominic took another drag. "Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes. Before they left, they lobbed a grenade through one of the windows. Conne's dead. Two more are critical." He pointed west with the cigarette. "Three vehicles. Looked like they headed toward the Diamond District, but I can't be sure."
"I'll call West District, have them set up roadblocks." Gordon was already reaching for his radio.
"Don't bother," Marco said. "Brown's boys probably didn't even show up for shift tonight. You'll be lucky if they answer the phone."
Gordon shot him a look but made the call anyway, stepping aside to speak into his radio. Marco turned back to Dominic, who was avoiding eye contact.
"Were the shooters masked?"
Dominic hesitated. But something in Marco's expression made him nod. "Yeah."
Gordon finished his radio call and rejoined them. "West District says they'll 'do what they can.'" He waved Dominic away. "Get your people organized. I want statements from everyone who was here. And secure this scene properly."
Dominic nodded and hurried off, looking relieved to escape.
Marco watched him go, then turned to Gordon. "What's worth hitting GCPD headquarters for?"
Gordon's jaw worked for a moment before he answered. "I don't know exactly. William and Matthew were Loeb's people. They ran that vault. But over the years? We've seized millions in cash, enough guns to arm a small militia, drugs, explosives... Plus whatever else Loeb was keeping off the books."
"Off the books?"
"You think everything that gets confiscated goes into the system? Some of it disappears, gets 'lost in processing,' or sits in that vault for years without proper documentation." He started walking toward the evidence building. "Come on. Let's see what's left."
---
The GCPD evidence vault was built like a bank. The outermost layer was a bulletproof check-in counter where officers signed evidence in and out. Past that, a heavy steel security door led to the main storage area, floor-to-ceiling industrial shelving packed with tagged items in plastic bins and cardboard boxes. Or at least, that's how it should have looked.
Now the shelves were almost empty. A few items remained but anything of value was gone. Gordon stood in the center of the room, slowly turning in a circle. Past the main storage area was the high-security vault. It was designed to withstand explosives.
Right now it stood wide open. Two bodies lay just inside the vault entrance.
Marco approached slowly, his boots crunching on debris. The closer he got, the worse the scene looked. Both victims had been shot in the legs. Then someone had gone to work on their heads with something heavy and blunt. The damage was extensive. Skulls caved in, faces pulped beyond recognition. Blood and brain matter had sprayed across the floor and walls.
On the wall behind the bodies, someone had spray-painted two words in bright red: THANK YOU!
And lying on top of one of the corpses was a playing card.
Gordon knelt next to the bodies, pulling on latex gloves. He picked up the card, holding it up to the light. It wasn't a standard playing card. Someone had cut letters from newspapers and magazines, pasting them together to form a message: I'M DONE WITH IT. RETURNING IT TO YOU - B.M.
"Black Mask," Marco said, reading over Gordon's shoulder.
"Maybe." Gordon studied the card. "But this was prepared ahead of time. You don't cut and paste newspaper letters on-site. He was going to kill these two from the start."
"So why make them traitors?" Marco crouched next to one of the bodies, examining the gunshot wound in the leg. "Money? Blackmail?"
"Probably both." Gordon stood, surveying the empty vault.
Marco looked at the corpses again.
"You said they were the Loeb's guys."
"Yeah."
"So either they went rogue, or..."
Gordon turned sharply. But Marco pushed anyway.
"Or someone higher up green-lit this."
"Don't go there. Loeb's an asshole and a crook, but he's not stupid enough to rob his own evidence vault. It would destroy him. The investigation alone would end his career."
"Maybe that's the point." Marco stood, brushing dirt off his knees. "Tonight's been one giant clusterfuck, and all of it points back to GCPD corruption. Your headquarters gets hit, your evidence vault gets cleaned out, your officers get killed..." He met Gordon's eyes. "Someone's sending a message."
Gordon stared at him for a long moment. He held up the card, and spoke, "We find out who did this. We're following the truth to the end."
"Sure," Marco said. He didn't sound convinced.
Silence stretched between them.
Gordon broke it first. "Where was your bat-themed vigilante tonight? With all this going down, I would've expected him to show up."
Marco had been wondering the same thing. "Maybe he was busy."
"Busy doing what? This was an attack on the GCPD. That's exactly the kind of thing he usually..." Gordon stopped. "Someone made sure he was busy."
"You think they distracted him on purpose?"
"If I were planning this, I would." Gordon looked around the vault one more time. "Marco... If all of this had happened in the East District tonight would your people have acted any differently from these guys?"
"Of course they would. They'd never be as stupid as the people here."
Marco smiled pleasantly and shook his head. "They wouldn't come out. None of them. Not even the first two. And they'd barricade every door and window with heavy objects. A grenade launcher shot wouldn't even get inside."
"Let's get out of here. CSU can process the scene."
Gordon frowned and walked out of the evidence vault. Marco followed, watching him issue orders and make arrangements. They were walking back toward the main entrance when Gordon's phone rang. He answered, listened for a moment, then went very still.
"Say that again."
Marco watched Gordon's face drain of color.
"When? How many?" Gordon hung up, staring at the phone.
"What?"
"That was Loeb. One of Don Falcone's secondary vaults just got hit. Same MO, and masks as the robberies last month."
Marco's brain stuttered. "Black Mask hit Don Falcone?"
"That's what Loeb says."
"Then who the fuck hit the GCPD?"
Neither of them had an answer.
---
Three kilometers away, atop the Gotham Trust Building
The fight had been going on for fifteen minutes, and Batman was starting to lose his patience. His opponent was never staying still long enough for him to land a solid hit. Every time he pressed an attack, she flowed backward, whip cracking out to harry him. When he tried to create distance, she closed in immediately.
He threw a hard right cross. She bent backward, spine arching, feet never leaving the rooftop. His fist passed over her face.
"You're good at dodging."
"I'm good at lots of things." She straightened, landing in a crouch on the ventilation housing. "But flattery will get you nowhere, darling."
Batman glanced toward the glow on the horizon, GCPD headquarters, still smoldering. He'd been trying to get there for twenty minutes. Every time he moved in that direction, she cut him off.
He changed tactics, charging straight at her.
She barely avoided his grab, spinning away along the rooftop's edge. Her whip snapped out, wrapping around his forearm. She yanked, trying to pull him off balance. He didn't resist. Instead, he used the momentum to close the distance, his other hand reaching for her. She released the whip and dropped flat, rolling under his reach, coming up behind him.
"Persistent, aren't you?"
"Who hired you?" He turned to face her, cape spreading wide to block her escape routes. "What's your objective?"
"Oh, so direct." She walked along the rooftop's edge, hips swaying. "Someone paid me two hundred thousand dollars to keep you company tonight. I thought that was sweet."
"I'll pay double. Stand down, and tell me your name."
She paused mid-step, head tilting. For a moment, the playful demeanor dropped.
"Double?" She tapped one gloved finger against her lips. "That's tempting."
In the distance, sirens wailed.
She smiled, blew him a kiss. "Deal. I'll send you an invoice." She turned and stepped backward off the roof.
Batman stepped forward, then stopped. She was already falling, the whip snapping around a gargoyle and swinging her toward the next building. Three bounds and she was gone, vanishing into Gotham's rooftops and alleyways.
"Catwoman," she called. "That's my name. Try not to forget it."
Her laughter echoed back, fading into the night.
Batman stood at the roof's edge, watching the direction she'd gone. Then he turned toward GCPD headquarters and started running.