Chapter Text
The evening was absolutely freezing. It was cold and stiff and wet and all things that Commissioner Jim Gordon hated. It was a long, boring day for him, with little crime and few incidents. Of course, he was glad that the citizens of Gotham were safe, but it meant a slow day for the officers in the GCPD. In this city, finding crime usually means looking across the street or around the corner, but it was quiet outside, and had been all day. Probably because of the record-breaking heatwave that had blanketed the city earlier this week.
Just as Gordon was about to clock out early, the phone rang. Hoping for a call that might at least give him an excuse to leave his office, he reached for the receiver. It was Martinez.
“Hey Martinez, what can I do for you?” The phone was wedged between Jim’s right ear and shoulder as he tried to tidy his desk, moving papers to the left and a few pens toward the front.
“We just learned about a uh-” There was a bit of shuffling, “-A small illegal drug import that’s due to come in at about 11:00. Wait no- wrong- it’s at 11:30,” More moving around. “The Freak’s probably there.”
“You mean Vengeance? Where did you hear this from?” Jim began packing a few items- a flashlight, clipboard, walkie talkie, pen, pencil, etc- into a bag.
“The Big Batty himself said so, left a few files n’ documents with Gwen in the lobby.”
“That’s.. out of character.” Jim was a little worried; Why did Vengeance ask for help? Was it big? No, the alleged documents claimed it was small, but what could it be?
Martinez continued, “He also said the shipment’s coming into Gotham Harbour—at the docks in the south of Tricorner. It’s a hotspot for illegal shipping because it’s easy to use without much verification, and there's plenty of space for big loads.” Jim nodded, voice tinged with concern. “Alright. Thanks. I’ll head over.” He finished packing, grabbing his vest, then hurried downstairs after a quick farewell to Gwen, the secretary.
The car was parked around the back, and the Commissioner jumped in, immediately attempting to turn the air conditioning to full. It didn’t work. He pulled the key out and inserted it back in, twisting gently. Then violently. The car turned off, then never came back on. That was an issue.
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Bruce Wayne had told Alfred that he didn’t need friends. Alfred, ever the voice of reason, disagreed.
“Master Bruce, you must leave the house sometime during the day. Dory is telling me that the people are starting to believe you to be some sort of vampire or ghoulish creature” He had said as he polished another plate. “Honestly, I myself am not sure if they are wrong. Maybe if he had some sort friend or acquaintance, or-”
Bruce cut him off, stating plainly, “I do have an acquaintance.”
They bickered for a moment longer before Bruce finally declared he was going to work out—or maybe find someone to put behind bars. That’s how he ended up with a thin stack of folders, papers, and photos in hand, heading toward the GCPD.
After realizing that he would have to speak to him in order to give the Commissioner the evidence, Bruce decided to stick to the shadows and place the stack on the edge of one of the desks in the lobby. Gweneth’s specifically, because she was out for her smoke break at the moment. Vengeance stayed for a few more minutes, observing and sneaking around the room until he felt satisfied enough to take his leave and get back to the car, only, it seemed that the Commissioner was having trouble with his car.
Vengeance checked the time. Ten sixteen. Little time to waste due to the distance of the Harbour and the needed preparations. He looked to the sleek custom black car he drove in, then to the sputtering SUV. He sighed.
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Jim never thought he’d see the day where he would be allowed into Vengeance’s car and yet here he was, sitting in the passenger seat beside the dark knight himself. In complete silence.
“So, when did you start doing this whole… thing?” Jim asked in a rather quiet voice. He was scared to ask, but the silence was becoming too deafening.
“Hn. Last year.” Was the response.
“Oh, yeah, cool. Cool. I thought so, because the crime rates began declining around a year ago.”
“Hn.”
He looked around a little more, gaining some confidence. He noticed a few compartments, one with what appeared to be some sort of makeup, another packed with CDs, and a few more with other gadgets and screws. After a glance to the left at the driver, Jim slowly reached toward the CD case. When no objection was made, he began looking through the organized box. To his surprise, he saw a lot of what he knew the teens were listening to, at least what the kids who got dragged into the station in the late hours were usually blasting. Did Vengeance have a kid?
“What,” Vengeance interrupted his thoughts.
“I just didn’t expect this to be your taste,” These were definitely teen angst artists and albums, so maybe he did have a kid.
“Hn. What did you expect, Tchaikovsky?”
“To be honest, I wasn’t expecting music at all. I thought that maybe they’d be audiobooks or something,” He paused. “Something older, I guess.”
“I’m not old,” Wow. Real information about the night stalker.
“How old are you, around my age? Less probably, with all those kicks and flips you do.” Gordon wasn’t expecting a response, but he got one anyway.
“I’m a legal adult.” Vengeance’s voice seemed to waver, if possible.
The immature response surprised Gordon, who was expecting a “Nice try” or a “I am a one-thousand two-hundred year old demon creature” or something else like that.
“What are ya then, 21?”
There was no response for a moment, but then Vengeance repeated the previous phrase.
“I am a legal adult.” He said, with more confidence than before.
Gordon leaned back silently as he thought. A legal adult, huh. So younger than 20. Probably around 18 or 19. It wasn’t totally impossible, but it was definitely weird to think about. If he was 18, then he’d been beating up criminals and doing the police’s job since he was 17 or even 16 depending on his birthday.
He couldn’t be 18 though, because vengeance was so serious, and knew like 40 types of martial arts. To be so masterful in all of his techniques and detective work, he’d have to have been training for the better part of a decade at the very least.
Then again, he dressed up as a bat called vengeance and beat people up in the dead of night, probably while listening to emo music.
“So you’re 18?”
Vengeance didn’t answer, but he did press a button in the front of the car causing music to turn on. Vengeance was apparently either not in the mood for or wasn’t fond of the specific song playing, because he pressed another button and the song was cut off by another.
Gordon listened silently to the instrumental beginning, wondering if he used all of his speaking privileges until eventually the lyrics started. Taking out a few files from his bag, he began skimming over the information organized into tabs and folders, stopping only when he felt a pair of eyes on him. Twisting to the left slightly, he made eye contact with the knight beside him. The knight immediately turned away.
“You don’t mind?” Vengeance's voice was hoarse and smooth at the same time, which always confused Jim.
“Do I mind that a child is running around the streets of Gotham dressed as a bat and doing my job?” Gordon asked. He was now slightly worried for the kid, because what happened to him that he's like this, and who’s letting him do this, and how is he doing this, and-
“I am a legal adult.” As if that made anything better.
Gordon sighed and shook his head a little. Was he concerned? Yes. Could he stop this kid from doing what he does though? No.
“Just know that I’m in your corner kid, I’ll be looking out for ya.”