The exhaust pipe let out one last puff of black smoke like a dying sigh. With a harsh clattering screech as the gears jammed, the G20 finally gave up and died on the road.
This was within expectations. Marco dialed the precinct's tow truck number, glanced around, and planned to find a store to buy cigarettes, otherwise there'd be trouble when the tow truck arrived and he had nothing to offer the driver.
When leaving the Falcone estate, Cobblepot had personally come out to see him off, saying something about "strengthening cooperation" and "friendly relations," before hurrying back inside with a panicked expression.
But that Roman could talk. Marco looked at his watch, more than three hours had passed, and it was already dark.
He was now in the South Bank area near Robinson Park. While not a commercial district, it wasn't exactly deserted either. He climbed out of the car, pulling his thick jacket tighter, and headed toward a small shop across the street.
As usual, several homeless men were lying on the benches along the road, most of them shivering miserably in the wind. Only one man sat with his arms hugging his knees, outside the halo of the streetlight, head lowered, striking a rather brooding pose.
Marco bought a carton of cigarettes in the store. When he came out, the homeless man was still sitting there motionless. He thought the guy might have frozen to death, so he walked over slowly and pulled out his badge.
"GCPD. You okay?"
He was just about to reach out to check whether the man was still breathing when the guy suddenly rolled smoothly to the side and stood up under the streetlight.
Same height as him, looked around his mid-twenties. Black hair, blue eyes, sharply defined features, intense expression. Square jaw that looked like it'd been carved from granite. He stood up and said in a deep voice, "I'm observing this city's corruption."
Marco blinked. "Uh... okay. You need medical attention or something?"
The man's gaze was unreadable. "The system is broken. The innocent suffer while the guilty prosper."
A philosophy major.
"If you're not in danger, I've got a tow truck coming—"
"You carry yourself like someone who's seen violence recently." The man's eyes narrowed. "Military training? Or just Gotham experience?"
Marco felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. This wasn't random homeless rambling. This guy was observing him.
"Just a cop doing his job. You should find somewhere warm for the night. Shelters are—"
"I know where the shelters are." The man's tone was flat. "I also know most of them are controlled by organized crime. The vulnerable preyed upon by the powerful."
Marco opened his mouth, then closed it. Because the guy wasn't wrong.
"Yeah, well. That's Gotham." He started backing toward his car. "Stay safe."
He jogged across the street, jumped into the Chevy, and rummaged through the storage box. Found his baton. Because he'd been visiting the Roman today, he'd deliberately left his gun at home, getting patted down and having a weapon taken would've been embarrassing. And judging by that guy's smooth roll earlier, his skills weren't bad. If he was here to cause trouble, things could go sideways fast.
But when he looked back out the window, the man had already vanished, dissolved into the darkness of the city like he'd never been there.
Just another weird Gotham moment. He stopped thinking about it. By the time the tow truck hauled his wreck back to the police motor pool, it was already past seven in the evening.
He saw that the light in Bob's office was still on. He knocked and entered, spreading his hands.
"Got nothing."
"As expected. A guy like Falcone doesn't give away cheap deals." Bob tapped ash off his cigarette into a paper cup. "You've been having a smooth run lately, but that's either luck or because people don't take you seriously yet. Don't start thinking you're hot stuff and try biting everyone you meet."
"Yes, Chief."
Marco nodded seriously. He knew Bob was right, right now he was still a nobody. And even in the future, there was no guarantee he wouldn't remain a nobody. Keeping his head down never hurt anyone.
"Good that you understand." Bob opened a drawer and put two checks on the desk. "Ten grand each, as promised. Special assignment bonus, clean and harmless. Honestly, using me to launder money... I should've charged you a twenty percent handling fee."
"I worked hard for it." Marco pocketed the checks. Before he could thank him, Bob asked, "When are you coming back to work?"
"I'm still a patient!" Marco practically sprang up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "I'm going to the police union to complain! You can't just work me like this!"
"I'll pay more."
"...But for the sake of justice, I guess I can manage."
"Right." Bob shook his head with a laugh. "I'll give you a few more days off. Come back Monday. And since Darnell isn't coming back yet, I'll need to find you another partner."
"Can't I work alone?"
"Didn't I just tell you, don't think you're that capable." Bob stubbed out his cigarette. "Forget regulations, do you know how high the chance is of a lone cop getting shot in Gotham?"
"Sorry, Chief."
Whatever the reason, Bob didn't want him getting hurt. Marco thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"Considering the kind of people out there... I think the chance of getting shot might be even higher with a partner."
"...That's not wrong either. Let me think..." Bob rubbed his temples. "Go on. I'll call you if there's news."
---
Coming out of the precinct, Marco hesitated over whether to go back to the hospital. Visiting hours were almost over. Although he was technically still admitted, once the time was up he had to stay in his room for the night. But if he didn't go, knowing Darnell's personality, that guy might be racing wheelchairs down the hallway or doing something equally stupid.
So he got a cab to Gotham General. The moment he stepped onto the third floor, a nurse at the station called him over.
"Marco, it's 8:20. Forty minutes left. If you could convince the two ladies visiting Officer Wilson to wrap things up sooner, we'd be very grateful."
Oh hell. Again.
Marco nodded, smiling awkwardly, then hurried toward the ward door.
Great, once again, the officer on duty had snuck off. Completely within expectations.
He paused, listening. No suspicious sounds, strange moaning or chain reaction of weird noises, so he knocked and opened the door.
Instead of the chaotic scene he'd imagined, Darnell was leaning back against a pillow, propped up in bed. At his bedside sat a well-endowed woman, calmly feeding him a peeled banana. After each bite, the two of them looked at each other and giggled.
Near the window stood a young woman with her arms crossed. Deep brown hair hung untidily over her shoulders. She wore a worn leather jacket and faded jeans.
"Hey, man... you're back? Falcone didn't rough you up, did he?"
Darnell tried to sit up when he saw Marco enter, but the movement pulled on his injury and he yelped.
"No, just cheap. Didn't even buy me dinner."
"Dream on!" Darnell grinned, then nodded at the woman beside him. "This is Lisa, Lisa Jane. You met her sister, Lisa Anne, right?"
He looked smug. Surprisingly, the woman didn't look jealous, she greeted Marco warmly.
"Hi, I'm Darnell's friend." She pointed at the girl by the window. "Selina Kyle, my friend. Interested?"
Selina nodded coolly. Marco shivered internally.
What? Am I interested? Who the hell am I to answer that?
That's Batman's canonical love interest. Whoever touches her, dies.
He forced a smile.
"Hi."
"I think your friend's tempted." Lisa whispered something into Darnell's ear that made them both snicker. Then she said to Marco, "This girl's young, beautiful, and skilled. She needs money and is willing to take any job. Want to give it a try?"
Selina frowned at that. Her fingers slid slowly across the wooden window frame, producing a faint scraping sound. Fine splinters scattered down, leaving behind a deep gouge in the wood.
Marco felt a death flag glowing on his forehead like a police siren. Selina might not be a threat now, but if she remembered his face later, and then one night some guy in a pointy-eared mask crashed through his window to drag him out for a "conversation"... he was doomed.
He shook his head vigorously. Even Darnell seemed annoyed.
"What are you talking about? He's my partner! Can't you give him a better rate?"
Marco shot him a look.
Dude, shut up! "Rate"? Am I merchandise now?
"Fine, fine. The banana can't shut you up? What about this?" He pulled a check from his pocket and dropped it on the bedside table. "How about a Benjamin?"
"Wooo!"
Both Darnell and Lisa's eyes lit up. Darnell picked up the check, looked it over, then handed it to her.
"Oh, and, Bob wants me back at work Monday."
"Huh? I'm still hospitalized. You're patrolling alone?"
"He's assigning me someone new. At least you get peace and quiet for three months. I'll be out on the street catching bullets in a few days." Marco sighed. "Also, you guys should wrap up, nurses are clearing rooms soon."
"At least you don't have to piss lying down. Hell, I don't know which is worse." Darnell shook his head bitterly. "You staying at the hospital tonight?"
"No. I'm going home to cook. I haven't eaten yet."
"Hey! Can you bring me something tomorrow morning? I'm craving your chicken parm."
"You're thinking way too much! Just lie there and figure out how to pee first!"
He sat in the room for a few more minutes, waiting for Lisa and Selina to leave before heading downstairs. But he hadn't gone far when a voice called out behind him:
"Officer!"
He turned instinctively, and stepped back on reflex.
"Uh... Ms. Kyle. Is something wrong?"
"Just call me Selina." She came out from the sheltered side of the building, hands in her jacket pockets.
"You seem afraid of me?" She tilted her head.
"No, not at all..." Marco rubbed his face. "Just cold."
"Right." Selina took two more steps forward, looking up at him with a playful smirk. "I heard you know Mr. Falcone?"
"No. I mean, not really. I was just accompanying Detective Gordon from the GCPD."
Gordon already has enough blame on him, what's one more?
"I see." Selina looked around the empty street. "Well... calling a cab here is tough. Would you mind walking me to the subway?"
"Hey, guess what? Actually, no." Marco let out a breath of relief, suddenly cheerful. "I'm broke. I can't even afford a car."