DC Converso: Gotham at Midnight #1
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Dixon Docks, Gotham City
Gunfire sounded around the docks, and rattled off the up-armoured police cruiser, as the man with the considerable gut dressed in a blue suit and fedora pulled the trigger of the machine-pistol he held. His targets, taking cover behind the cruiser, were two of the GCPDs finest, and while both seasoned officers they were still unable to get a shot at their attacker.
“This is Officer Drury Walker calling command!” The skinnier, almost emaciated one of the two yelled over the radio in his hand. “We’ve managed to track Harvey ‘the Slug’ Bullock to the Gotham Docks but are under heavy fire. Officer Drake and I need backup ASAP!!” He added, his voice barely audible over the continued gunfire. “I repeat…” He stopped, as the engine of the cruiser began to smoke before exploding just as Drake pushed him out of the blast radius. Coughing and spluttering, Walker peered through the smoke, expecting to see his partner emerge, only to see Bullock’s flabby form silhouetted there.
“Alright copper, I should kills you.” Bullock drawled, as he replaced the ammunition clip in his machine-pistol. “But I got a message for Commissioner Thorne, tell him that my boss Jimbo suggests he reconsider his offer, or people he cares about start getting whacked.” He added, as he aimed the gun at Walker. “You understand me?”
“Thorne won’t cave to men like the scum you call your boss and his threats!” Walker snarled, as he kept his eyes on the gun. “Gordon will never get control over the GCPD!”
“Some lip on you boy.” Bullock cackled, as he aimed his weapon at Walker’s legs, the skinny man shaking slightly as he stared the career criminal down. “Maybe this’ll teach you some respect!” He snorted as he pulled the trigger, the gun clicking but not firing as the round jammed in the barrel. “Stupid piece of cra…” Bullock growled, only for his words to get cut off by a gunshot, his stubby arms moving to the bullet hole in his leg, before he fell clutching his new wound.
“Lip and a gun.” Walker answered coldly, as he kicked the machine pistol away. Walking over to the wreckage of the cruiser it became apparent that Drake was dead, his body burnt beyond all recognition. Kneeling down next to his partner’s body, Walker found what was left of the radio he had dropped, before flicking the button, desperately listening for the hiss of static. “Officer Down,” he stated quietly. “Officer Down.”
**
GCPD Headquarters, Gotham City – One Day Later
Commissioner Rupert Thorne was an older man, one whose teeth were stained with decades of nicotine and tar. And while he was well known for taking a hard stance on crime, Thorne always made time for his officers, even if it came at the extent of his own.
“Detective Walker, I know Internal Affairs has already asked you about Detective Drake’s death, so as such I won’t ask you about that.” Thorne told the skinny man sitting on the chair in-front of him. “Nor will I mention how Mr Bullock’s lawyer, one two faced twisted piece of s**t moulded into the shape of a man, has got him released on a technicality.” He added, as he looked nervously at the clock, before removing a pair of glasses and a bottle of scotch.
“Then what are we talking about?” Walker asked, as he fidgeted in his seat.
“Your compassionate leave, it would be cruel to make you continue so soon after the death of your partner.” Thorne announced, as he poured the scotch out, before sliding a glass to Walker. “I’d recommend leaving the city for a while, take Faith and hit the Keys or something, because Bullock doesn’t forgive easily, although we can hope he forgets you soon enough.”
“With all due respect sir,” Walker begun, only for Thorne to wave his hand to cut off his complaint.
“I know, I know, you won’t go anywhere while the city is in the state it’s in.” Thorne sighed, as he took a sip from the glass. “At least meet me halfway, take it easy until you are cleared for active duty. There are plenty of cases that need a good dose of desk work.”
“Do I have a choice Sir?” Walker asked, as he watched Thorne take another long sip.
“You always have a choice Walker, everyone has, you just have to make the right one.” Thorne told him, as he put the glass down and ran a wrinkled hand through his thinning white hair. “There is one more thing, Officer Drake’s funeral is in a week and a half, being his partner for three years you may want to say something to let people know that he was a good cop, and not the corrupt swine Jack Ryder and Vikki Vale paint us as. And the world needs good cops considering what's been going on recently in Colorado and Central City”
“I would be honoured, Drake saved my life so many times both on and off duty.” Walker stated, before finally taking a drink himself. “It’s the least I can do.”
**
Gotham Airport
The tall well-built bald man dressed in a grey suit walked through the crowd, and up to the baggage carousel currently spewing luggage from the flight that had departed Moscow via Barcelona onto American soil. Taking his bag, and walking towards security, the man handed over his passport, Cyrillic characters telling the bored man at the desk just who he was, and why he was here. To be honest he was unsure himself, policing the slums in Moscow were hard enough, the ones in Gotham were said to be impossible. Yet despite that Anatoli Knyazev knew he was the man to try, as the youngest ever recruited agent of the FSB in Russia, and recipient of the Medal of the Order "For Merit to the Fatherland” he was sure he would leave his mark…or at the very least die trying.
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