Gotham Central (Law-Enforcement, Mafia, Thriller, IC)

[Waztaskio]

OOC: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=408519

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January 1st, 1997 - Gotham City Police Department HQ - 9:00am

In the Gotham City Police Department, the most unpeaceful location in Gotham was not the streets, but the very center of police operations in the City of Gotham. The Gotham City Police Headquarters in Midtown was as rowdy as a WWE wrestling championship that happened daily. Citizens who would end up walking into the station would see officers engaged in fist fights with detainees, aggressive force, and downright chaotic stacks of paperwork on almost every desks that came into sight. Detetive Richard Parker however, had grown used to this scene after spending over three years in the Gotham City Police Department. Robbery-Homicide, was headquartered right at the front door of the station making it one of the most visible of the detective units within the GCPD. Detectives worked from desks, rotating in and out of the interrogation rooms, and was overseen by the Captain of the entire station Julia Evans.

The police department had it's own unique structure, with supervisors always being Sergeants and Lieutenants taking the role of managers for various units. There was Lieutenant Gregory Jenkins, assigned as the Patrol Lieutenant, Lieutenant Barry Rothchilds as the Major Crimes Unit commander, Lieutenant Danton Quinton as the Crisis Response Units commander, Lieutenant Jimmy Hoss as the Aviation Units commander, and finally Parkers boss Lieutenant Beck Carter as the Robbery-Homicide commander with Internal Affairs overseen by Captain Evans. The structure was neither efficient, nor well defined, and numerous power struggles erupted from the disorganization, but was ignored by the various Commissioners despite objections from Chief of Police Troy Bradshaw. It was this environment that Richard Parker had to live with, and somehow manage to do his job.

As he sat at his desk going over the crime reports, he was approached by another detective who leaned slightly over his desk to speak. "Long night, Parker?" Parker, not even looking up chuckled and nodded. "Yea, ruff night Pierce. This new crime wave is draining me. Just last night we had twelve separate robberies alone, with even more cases of burglary and petty theft. This city is insane." Pierce had been assigned as Parkers supervising detective, and had been in the GCPD for over twenty years. Although he was known to engage in acts of corruption from time to time, he never attempted to profit from the spoils, and genuinely attempted to do the right thing when he could. "Don't let this get to you too much. It's Gotham, and it's cursed. Do what you can, but nothing more." Said Pierce.
As they proceeded to talk about the reports, the patrol sergeant on duty soon called out to Parker. "Yo, Parker! We got a hit on one of the robbers from last night from one of the uniforms. Hart and A Street, get down there." Parker and Pierce soon made their way to their vehicle, and began to head down to the scene.

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January 1st, 1997 - Hart and A Street - 9:20am

By the time Parker and Pierce had arrived, the suspect identified as "Allan Henry," was barricaded within the premises of a small apartment complex and claimed to have hostages. Pierce immediately got on the radio, requesting backup and CRU. "This is Robert-10 to Dispatch, we have a Hostage Situation at the intersection of Hart and A Street. Requesting 10-13 Code 3, and a CSU response team. Suspect may be armed, and possibly unstable." After Pierce placed out a call for backup, Parker was gathering information from Detective Shiella, who had originally called it in. Appearently, after failing to get him to admit to stealing the property in question, he took a street hostage and retreated into the building. Parker could only at this time await CRU, before deciding to proceed.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

January 1st, 1997 - Major Crimes Unit, Upper West Hill, Scott Boulevard "2nd Precinct" - 9:00am
Kareema Howard


She never liked MCU.

She sat down on her chair as she looked on the paperwork...there's so many on her table it's actually just small size of papers. No, not many paperworks. Major Crimes Unit has been known for some time as one of the most corrupt division in GCPD, and that's saying something in this wretched hive of a city. Nobody, not even the poor citizens, like the situation. But they can't complained, nor is she, for crimes have become their life. In her case, it was a forced one.

She liked the building, though. Fancy one, despite their proper lack of funding, but MCU managed to keeps their building well-conditioned and maintained. After all, the clients need a good place for them to talk, and that's not going to happens if the place is dirty and hot. There's a Boyle case to do, won't work much, one of his employees filed a restraining order of sexual harassment attempt. As sad as it is, she couldn't do much but let it unsolved or forged.

Of course, Falcone was giving her some headaches when he relentlessly demanded explanations on the Butcher of South Island, who killed one of his men, a middle-ranked one. Possibly a made man. That's going to be hard, though. For now, she looked on both the case of The Butcher and The Boyle Harassment case.

Which one is more endearing and interesting, though?

[Nova Socrum]

January 1st 1997, Maple Hill street
Officer Paul Phillips
9:20am

Gotham, a place many in law enforcement would consider to be the nail in their coffins. Working here signaled for outsiders the end of their careers. It was not a prestigious jobs as many outsiders who were sent here were disgraced officers and those from gotahm were crooked cops in it with the criminals. But not me I am a difference, one that Gotham needs. Or so I thought as waited in the parking lot eating a glazed donut after giving a ticket a car with expired parking meter.

The Radio buzzed to life with dispatch alerting all units to head towards Hart and A street."10-4 Dispatch, I am on my way over out" Phillips said into his policemen radio. He was just enjoying a donut in a lonely parking lot. He started his police vehicle raced towards the scene of the crime, knowing that his was serious is the MSC unit was called in.

The intersection of Hart and A street 9:30
Paul raced his way to the crime scene with his lights on. He had finally made it there saw and detectives Parker and Sheilla outside the building of the crook. Paul parked alongside them and got out to gather with them.

[Waztaskio]

January 1st, 1997 - Hart and A Street - 9:45am

---

The past twenty minutes of the scene had been tense, with the suspect firing shots out towards the cruisers occassionally from a side window to later retreat back from the window when shots were returned. No demands had been made, yet considerable amounts of yelling and screaming were heard from around the scene and inside the building. Small police barricades were set up, with most of the patrol officers engaging in standard crowd control techniques to disperse the crowd while the remainder kept their guns trained on the building. At around 9:40am, CSU units had finally responded and strengthened the perimeter around the complex with Lieutenant Quinton now leading the scene. "Detective, what's the situation?" Quinton asked Pierce, who had been redirecting some of the newly arrived uniforms to assist with crowd control. "Well, we got an armed and possible mentally unstable son of a bitch claiming to have hostages and firing pint shots for the past twenty minutes." Detective Pierce said.

"How many hostages detective?" Pierce shrugged, "Don't think that makes much of a difference to you guys either way, does it?" Lieutenant Quinton would simply ignore his comment, and begin to assemble his team. "Alright, we got an armed gunman inside with possible hostages. Here is the plan. We're going to breach through the front door, making our way up the stairs until we reach the room of the shooter. We will branch off in smaller teams to clear the area, until the building is secure. Flashbangs are authorized for use, now let's move!" Quinton and his team of eight stacked up on the front door, while Detectives Parker and Pierce stayed behind with the rest of the uniforms. The team would bust the door down when they were in position, and sounds of gunfire would be heard from the automatic weapons of the team and the pistol of the suspect. After a two minute firefight, a flashbang would go off within the premises and begin to set a small fire that would begin to quickly spread throughout the building. Quinton, noticing this immediately ordered his team out of the building despite not having secured the now wounded suspect or any of the hostages.

It would only take ten minutes for the house to fully be engulfed in flames, with the Gotham City Fire Department ordering the police and bystanders to back away from the building. Their warnings served to be a great benefit, due to what happened next. The building exploded, with flames and burning piles of wood coming out from the windows and sides of the building peacefully gliding their way down to the pavement. Parker and Pierce, could only sigh and watch the burning mess of a scene unfold as the fire department attempted to clear out the remaining fires. Their suspect was now most likely burned alive, with all hostages also being killed within the complex. In normal circumstances you could expect this kind of reckless endangerment to be met with appropriate consequences, but in the case of Quinton he was not disciplined in the slightest. With the building now a smoldering pile of rubble, Pierce and Parker would make their way back to the station, contemplating how to proceed after seeing such a disastrous result.

[The V O I D]

Gotham Central Hospital Building
Midtown
Gotham City
January, 1997

Thomas O'Riley, also known as Doctor O'Riley or simply Doctor Riley, was in his office at Gotham Central Hospital. Gotham Central was rather well known in the corrupt city as one of the more corrupt hospitals. Although, ironically, this turned out to be a good thing. The gangs and organized criminals of the city all funneled their money to this hospital to ensure it had some of the best medicines and equipment available, on top of the city funds. Gotham Central was an unofficial, de facto 'safe area' that was to be kept crime-free aside from its illicit funding; criminals and civilians of all kinds usually came here, if they had medical insurance or the money to afford it, or were a member of one of the crime families paying off the hospital to care for their members. Usually, everyone left here alive. Doctor Riley was one of the more respected doctors of Gotham Central; as, so far, he had a patient survival rate of 97%. That meant, in every year, if Dr. Riley got 100 patients, 97 of them would leave alive. The three who didn't usually were beyond saving anyway, or were discovered to have been terminally ill.

Dr. Riley was currently contemplating his latest victim. Her name was Sam, and by far she was his youngest victim yet at age 20. Her 20th birthday had been a few days before he took her to his warehouse. Dr. Riley was waiting as the clock ticked by; currently, his medical team was working on his patient, a man named Alex. Dr. Riley was awaiting reports from his team on the status of the patient. If things were going well, he could leave and visit Sam at his warehouse. No doubt she was getting antsy in awaiting their next session together. Dr. Riley was thinking of all the ways he could cut and stab and slash. His musings were interrupted by a knock at the door. Dr. Riley frowned briefly, but then quickly put on a friendly demeanor as he always did, getting up and opening the door. It was one of his team members. He raised a brow expectantly.

“Dr. Riley, Alex woke up. The procedure worked - another job well done.”, his team member informed him. Dr. Riley nodded, and then the team member walked off. That was Riley's cue. The man walked into his office and set it up so he was clocked out on lunch break. Today was the day Sam died. How unfortunate, but such was the way of the world. Thomas walked out of his office and left Gotham Central; getting into his car, a sleek black car that he'd bought a few years prior. Thomas started the car up and drove off from Gotham Central Hospital. Thomas drove at the speed limit, stopping when he needed to. He was careful to make sure he wasn't followed on his way to the warehouse, which had few cameras guarding it. Thomas pulled into his usual space near his warehouse - a place in an alleyway, someone would pass by without a second thought then. Thomas disengaged his car, and took the keys out as he exited. Thomas entered the warehouse, following his mental map into his torture room. He'd cleaned it last week, before taking Sam. Sam noticed him, and began whimpering in fear and pain, trying to squirm away in her binds.

Thomas closed the door, locking it. He walked over to her; she was badly bruised and beaten, but the fun part hadn't happened yet. No, that was yet to come. Setting down his tool bag on the table; he opened it. Thomas took out a scalpel, another knife, and various other tools. As each one hit the table, Sam seemed to cringe in the corner of his eye out of fear. Thomas also took other tools from his drawers in the table. The murderer turned and looked at his victim, who met his eyes with a deep seeded fear. Thomas only smiled at that; he could almost taste her fear, her pain. But it wasn't over yet. Thomas walked over to her; pulling her up and putting her on a table he had constructed. Strapping her down, he bound her tightly to the table, the gag in her mouth muffling her whines and groans of protest. Thomas walked over to his toolkit, hands brushing over the tools. Deciding to grab the nearest tool, Thomas walked back over with a large knife; a wide smile on his face.

“It's your lucky day, Samantha. The Doctor is in.”, he said in a gleeful, sadistic tone. And, had there not been a gag in the young woman's mouth as Thomas began his usual procedure, he was certain the room would be filled with her blissful screams.

[Recon]

Chris Zhou
January 1st, 1997. 09:00.
Major Crimes Unit, Scott Boulevard, Upper West Hill.

He had got in twenty minutes early, enough time to turn on his computer and give it the infuriating time it required to power up. The result of some long forgotten federal grant. Chris busied himself by refreshing the pot of coffee and pouring himself one. He wished a few of his colleagues a belated, "Happy New Year" before leafing through his paper, as he waited for the clock to hit 09:00 or sometimes 09:05 or 09:10 if there was a great article in the sports section. No one cared, and Chris did love his sports. Knights, Blades, Wildcats and especially the Guardsmen, he followed all of them. The best thing about working in the MCU was the location, Upper West Hill, just a short car ride from his home. He often thought of his luck, Midtown? Who wanted to drive over the bridge and slog through all that traffic every morning and evening? He didn’t. It had been hard enough attending the academy every day, riding on the monorail to headquarters. The Monorail had been sketchy back then and from what he read in his daily Gotham Gazette, it was only getting worse and worse. He wouldn’t change a thing about his routine, five to ten minutes door to door, perfect.

The work itself was not perfect. After his promotion to Detective and assignment to the MCU, Chris expected things would improve. This was the MCU, an elite unit – supposedly – tasked with disrupting organised crime. But to his disappointment, things here were no different than anywhere else in the GCPD. They had taken one look at him and put him on Asian gangs. Each time a criminal with the name, Chen, Wong, Lee, Kim, Nguyen, Park or hundreds of others appeared on the Unit’s radar, they were quickly assigned to Chris. Vietnamese, Chinese, Korean, Japanese or even Pacific Islander, if you were arrested for anything more serious than been drunk and disorderly and you identified yourself on the census as “Asian or Pacific Islander” there was a good chance your case had crossed his desk. This was useful in some ways; he could focus the units attention on those who really deserved it, violent criminals, those who had no respect for their community and the people who lived in it. But mostly it was frustrating, Detective Zhou was little different to Officer Zhou. If there was a crime involving the China Basin, somehow he would always be involved. Still reminded himself there was the easily commute, the pension and it was still infinitely better than painting trucks out in the desert. Chris sighed and took another drink from his cup of coffee before typing the next name onto the computer system.

[Waztaskio]

January 1st, 1997 - Gotham City Police Department HQ - 3:00pm

"And now, let us turn over the camera's to White House Press Secretary Mike McCurry." A reporter would say, while the White House Press Secretary would make his way to the podium. "Good afternoon, everyone. I hope I did not keep you all waiting." Laughter would be heard around the room at the comment, but would die out quickly. "Today, on behalf of President Clinton, Vice President Al Gore and Attorney General Janet Reno will touring a variety of cities on the eastern-seaboard to visit with local police departments and local governments to ensure that the crime rate stays low within the United States, and continue to serve as a model for policing the world. As you all should have received, we have passed out documents detailing out the Vice Presidents upcoming trips with the Attorney General and I shall take questions on that now." Parker would sit at his desk with Pierce, going over the latest case-work as well as listening to the press briefing from the White House. "A lot of shit, if you ask me. Crime rates ain't never been as low as they think it is." Parker said, looking up at Pierce.

"They got a different view of things Parker, you can't always blame your politician for not knowing the entire situation on the ground. No matter what city they visit." Pierce said, continuing to listen. "Mr. McCurry, question!" A reporter would say, as McCurry would point his finger at her to allow her to speak. "On this list, it states that the Vice President and Attorney General will be visiting Gotham City, New Jersey on January 25th, and my question is if the Vice President has any concerns for security while travelling through what has been called the domestic-warzone of America." McCurry would respond, "All questions concerning the safety of the Vice President and Attorney General must be forwarded to the United States Secret Service who are taking appropriate measures in ensuring the safety of all parties." After answering the question, other reporters would begin to ask follow-up questions to which Parker would completely tune out the television. "This Vice President of the United States coming to Gotham on a new Anti-Crime tour? Is this fool crazy?" Pierce would only nod, "If he is, we'll see a case-file on him later this month." Pierce would chuckle, with Parker merely shaking his head. "I don't like this Pierce. Too much power coming to this city, and this city loves to corrupt power."

---

January 1st, 1997 - Gotham City Hall - 4:50pm

"Are you kidding me!" Said Jefferson Mark, Mayor of Gotham. Over an hour ago, he had watched the press release being transmitted on every news station across Gotham. The Vice President, along with the Attorney General would be coming to Gotham City towards the end of the month. "It does not appear that way. I'm already receiving calls from the Secret Service to help with general security. They don't want any incidents." Said Commissioner Edward Tulley, of the Gotham City Police Department. Tulley had been called to City Hall not longer after Mark's rage at the announcement to discuss possible options on how to handle this. Gotham might as well be known as the capital of crime, because it's crime rate is the highest in the United States which makes sense why it would be on the Vice Presidents agenda to visit, however they felt he was out of his mind. "What are we going to do? They'll want to talk with some of the officers, and councilman. If they find-..." Tulley was cut off.

"They're not going to find anything, commissioner. So long as you do your job right. If the Vice President wants to come to Gotham, you are to ensure that NOTHING happens during his visit or I assure you commissioner, that you will never work a government job in this town again!" Tulley wanted to speak up, but said nothing. Mayor Mark had made his decision, and challenging it would be a foolhardy mood. "I'll head down to Major Crimes right now. Tell them to get their informants together, and the families locked down as good as we can. What about the Falcones, sir?" Mark would shake his head. "You let me worry about the Falcones, commissioner. We're going to be having dinner in a few days, and I believe I can ensure their cooperation. They don't want anymore federal influence over this city, then we do. They'll play ball." The meeting would end, with the commissioner leaving City Hall and heading to major crimes to personally berate Lieutenant Barry Rothchilds of Major Crimes to ensure his unit would ensure that nothing happens during the Vice Presidential visit. And that if it did, he would personally slice his throat. This visit was going to be a major moment for Gotham City, yet if they can't ensure safety of the executives. It could be their heads on the chopping block of the world. An embarrassment, Mayor Mark had no intention of going through.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

January 1st, 1997 - Major Crimes Unit, Upper West Hill, Scott Boulevard "2nd Precinct" - 4.30 PM
Kareema Howard

The Boyle Harassment case would be nothing compared to what she believed about justice. The best is for him to paid her off. Making her "disappear", while cheaper, turned out to be not since he had to paid off more thugs and dumping process and evidences. Of course, if the staff is an idealistic one, assassination is an option. But idealists tend to died on their first six months. Including hers. She sighed to herself as she sipped on her coffee. Speaking of cases, MCUs cases on female harassments usually dropped on to her, since she's female, and perhaps one of the few ones in MCU.

She heard some chatting, and stopped one of the junior Detective. "What happened? Why's the chatter?" she asked. He looked flustered, knowing that she's a tough one, and not easy to backed down. "Vice President's coming to Gotham for the new Anti-Crime tour. We better get our shit together, because we will help on their security!" and then he went away. Oh fuck up, this is too much for Gotham. Any dangers coming, and GCPD gotta be poured down to the sewers. And let's not get into the possible leaks on corruption.

She contemplated on whether to do her job, or intentionally break the job in order for GCPD to be reformed, even minimally. No case-solving for Boyle, or for Falcone for the time being.

[The V O I D]

Abandoned Docking Port
South Channel Island
Gotham City
January, 1997

Thomas had just finished his procedure with Samantha. She was now in pieces in a trashbag in the back seat. Slowing his car to a stop, the man looked around; there was no active cameras here, nor any witnesses in sight. Just like all the previous dump sites. Thomas slowly got out of his car. He opened the back door to his car, grabbing the large trashbag full of parts and blood. Thomas carried it out of his car, and, just like every other scene, he opened the trashbag and began dumping the parts piece by piece, separating them and strewing them about. White latex gloves keeping fingerprints away. He made sure to keep the head inside; the head was always the least damaged. No teeth pulled, no cuts; nothing was ever made wrong with the head. Thomas kept it wrapped in the bag and dropped it next to the edge of the dock. He then turned and walked back to his car. After getting in, he started the car; pulling off the gloves.

“Another job well done, Doctor.”, he said to himself; smiling slightly, he added: “And may there be many more.” Thomas drove off of the docks and headed away, driving towards home. The session was still fresh in his mind; the scent of Samantha's blood, the sound of her muffled screams for help. Her screams when he began to butcher her. Oh, he relished in these thoughts as he drove home. Almost on autopilot, Thomas looked at the various men and women as he drove by towards home; behind his glasses, he imagined their screams and what they would feel like when he killed them. And this only increased his overall happiness with himself. Smiling widely, a bright honest smile for such a man. Thomas' pager went off. Oh. It was time to do more actual doctoring. With a slight frown, he called his team.

“Well? What've we got?”, he asked, expectantly. A new case for him to work on. Some sort of flu or something. Just great. Thomas knew he'd begin looking for his next victim tomorrow; it was his day off, after all. Thomas always felt his urge the most when around patients. But he wasn't going to toss away his hard work. Besides, it felt good to help people, too... in different ways. Thomas liked the feeling of no one being the wiser to his true nature; to what and who he really was. Thomas contemplated what his coworkers might think if they knew they worked with the Butcher of South Channel Island. He also contemplated what his team would think. Chuckling to himself, Thomas drove towards work, deciding not to be late if he knew what was good for him. Didn't want his boss on his ass. And so, to work the Doctor went, even as the Butcher seethed just skin deep.

[Recon]

Chris Zhou
January 1st, 1997. 17:50.
Major Crimes Unit, Scott Boulevard, Upper West Hill.

They knew all about it. The Vice President was coming to Gotham. They’d received a call an hour before to hold over the day shift. Chris was bemused but they had all been assured, this would count as overtime. Chris had tried to keep himself busy, but he could sense the nerves in the office. The call had been from the Commissioner's office. Rumour had it; Tulley had gone Code Three all the way across the city. It was unusual, if any of the top brass was to visit the office, they usually knew in advance and prepared accordingly. The DEA or FBI were invited to discuss some long dead case, a few notable faces were brought into booking, the streets around the district were emptied of any undesirables and the desks and corridors were all kept clean and bright. Appearances were important, it was almost the only thing they had. The Lieutenant also knew this was different, Chris watched him peer out of his window as the sound of sirens grew louder. The Commissioner had arrived.

Chris buried himself in a case file, hoping to look busy and more importantly not catch the Commissioner’s eye. The Lieutenant’s office door opened, “Sheila, find a street map of the city. Bigger the better and lay it out in the conference room” Rothschild barked at his secretary. The man was nervous; he was putting on his suit jacket as he walked towards the elevator lift. All eyes were on the little dial, it lit up, Ground floor and then Going up. Edward Tulley arrived in dress blues. There was no time for pleasantries, the Lieutenant attempted to steer him towards the conference room. He was mostly successful, but everyone in the Office watched with a smile as all the glass in conference room door cracked as the Commissioner barged his way forcefully in. The Commissioners aides stood outside the door but they could all still hear. All the detectives had stopped working, and listened to the Comissioners voice, it was not clear, but some words were distinguishable. “GIOVANNI FALCONE????? IT’S THE VICE PRESIDENT. DROP IT. DROP EVERYTHING!” about ten seconds later, they heard “SHUT THEM DOWN” there was a pause, Rothschild had said something in reply, and the commissioner became more enraged, “YES. ADAMS, LINCOLN AND THE TUNNEL. SHUT THEM ALL DOWN. IT’S THE GODDAMN VICE PRESIDENT!”

It went on for a few minutes more, but the commissioner’s voice was quieter now and Chris could not hear. Eventually the door opened and both men appeared. The Lieutenant stepped forward looking shaken, “Come on gather round. Quicker! Quicker!”. It took a moment for the crowded office to hover around, Chris heard a voice next to him whisper, “And now it rolls down to us”. Rothschild smoothed his suit; no doubt he could feel the Commissioners eyes burning into the back of head. “I`m sure you’ve all heard the news. The Vice President and Attorney General are visiting Gotham. All investigations are immediately halted” there was an immediate uproar, and Chris heard, “What about Maroni? What about Dimitrov?” Rothschild voice showed anger for the first time, “They’ll be killing people again AFTER the Vice President leaves. All Cases are closed”. The uproar died down, “OK! The Feds will be flying down from Washington tomorrow, if they want a coffee you get it for them, if they want to inspect the tunnel or one of the bridges. Shut it down for them, immediately. Whatever they want, you give them” he tried to catch the eyes of his audience, “If Mayor gets one complaint from Washington about this trip. Some of you will be going to a trial board, whether you deserve it or not”. The Commissioner behind him nodded approvingly.

[Waztaskio]

January 2nd, 1997 - South Channel Island - 1:00pm

Parker and Pierce had been given a new case, which was really just an old case gone cold. The Butcher of South Channel Island, had apparently struck again and it just so happen that Parker and Pierce were driving through the area when a couple of uniforms issued the dispatch call for a homicide near an old abandoned dockyard. When the two arrived, they were greeted by only a single patrol car staffed by one officer and a partially cordoned off crime scene. This was however, to be expected from the GCPD as officers were either too lazy or had other "commitments," to attend to and usually did not fully enclose a perimeter unless it was absolutely necessary. This was a huge hassle to RHD, whose cases would sometimes be thwarted by dumb rookie officer mistakes that rest fully on the first responder to the scene, yet he privately sucked in his frustration and did his job as best he could.

"Good afternoon, detectives. I hope you had a good lunch?" The officer said, to which Pierce chuckled. "Yea, double cheeseburger with a pinch of murder sure is a great combo." Pierce and the officer would share a quick laugh, as Parker would already be examining the remaining evidence of the scene. "Body was chopped into pieces, but the head remains untouched. This does look like the work of our guy." Parker said, while Pierce looked over the head and nodded. "It's fascinating isn't it? The Butcher of South Channel island. Only he doesn't butcher your head, just everything else." Pierce said, while Parker continued to look over the remains to soon be taken away by the coroner who had also just arrived. "South Channel island is run by the Falcones, and I find it really hard to believe they don't have a say in this. I mean from the case file, this guy had a warehouse full of dead bodies here. Surely the Falcones aren't this blind." Parker said, standing up from the body. "Well, then let's go ask them. I'm sure we can find whatever Falcone holds the most sway in these parts of town." Pierce said.

Parker would shrug to the suggestion, as he rubbed his chin slightly. The Falcones would probably be the best place to start, however Major Crimes might just shut their investigation down hard if they pursued them. And if the investigation was shut down, the butcher may strike again. No, Parker couldn't allow that to happen, but at the same time he couldn't just MDC search a Falcone relative without sufficient reasoning. And the only person who would be able to help was Major Crimes. "We're going to Major Crimes, and we're going to ask them to look into something for us. It may be better to have them approach, then us." Parker said, getting into the car followed by Pierce on the passenger side. After leaving the docks and later arriving at the Major Crimes Unit "2nd Precinct," Parker would head inside and demand to talk to a detective with intimate knowledge of how the Falcones operate, but would refuse to give a reason as to why. This was sure to gain some suspicion, but Parker knew that eventually someone in the MCU would have to come and speak to him.

[The V O I D]

Midtown
Gotham City
January, 1997

Thomas had finished up work, and taken off for the night. Of course, what his boss and coworkers didn't need to know was that he was using his drive home to look for a new victim. As he drove passed people on the sidewalks - some poor, some rich; some homeless, some not. Some old. Some young. It didn't matter to Thomas; he was just imagining the scent of their blood, the sounds of their screams as their flesh tore piece by piece. He had to suppress his sadistic smile. Thomas always felt the urge strongest after he did the deed in the first place; mostly, because it was so fresh in his mind it was easy to project it onto others. Thomas pulled into a parking space on the side of the road when infront of his apartment building. Getting out of his car, Thomas began walking towards the door.

“Evenin', Tommy.”, said Rachel, one of his neighbors, who was out for a smoke. “Evening, Rach.” Thomas responded, keeping an even tone; it was his automatic response. Thomas smiled slightly at her as he passed by her to head into the building; she had smiled back, assuming he was being friendly. If only she knew Thomas was imagining all the ways she'd scream; all the ways she'd cut, snap, tear, bleed. Thomas felt his heart pound as he continued suppressing the urge; going up the stairs to the third floor. He walked over to a room with '3B' on it. He took out his keys, unlocking the door and entering it. Thomas locked the door behind him, closing the chain lock as well. He placed his bag down, walking through the small apartment; it looked normal, if a bit hyper organized... showing extreme signs of OCD. Thomas walked over to a room in his apartment that had a combination lock on the outside.

He unlocked it, opening the door and closing it partially behind him. With the flick of a switch, the room was now filled with light. Thomas looked around the room; it had a variety of tools on the walls and a simple computer on a table inside it. Most of the tools were ones he used for torture. Thomas got onto the computer, logging in. It had a bunch of text documents, and that was all. Opening a new document, he titled it 'SAMANTHA'. Typing away in his log/journal, he detailed every last slice; every last cut; every last slash, stab, scream and tear. Every detail of every bone and how quickly it broke, and what it all looked like. There was no detail spared. After all was said and done, he saved the new log and logged out of the personal computer. He then stood up, leaving the room; closing the door, locking the combination lock on that door. Thomas then walked over into his bedroom, sitting down on his bed. Opening the drawer to his nightstand, he pulled out a folder; opening it. It only held a picture at the moment, and a name.

“Hello, there. Nice to meet you. Don't worry, Andrew... the Doctor will be in very soon.”, he talked to himself. But for Thomas, he was talking to Andrew; for Thomas, this was to be his next victim. Putting the folder and picture away, he laid down in his bed. It was a good night. Tomorrow was another day. And tomorrow would be the start of the last week this Andrew lived to see another one.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

(Image)

January 2nd, 1997 - South Channel Island - 1:00pm

Parker would shrug to the suggestion, as he rubbed his chin slightly. The Falcones would probably be the best place to start, however Major Crimes might just shut their investigation down hard if they pursued them. And if the investigation was shut down, the butcher may strike again. No, Parker couldn't allow that to happen, but at the same time he couldn't just MDC search a Falcone relative without sufficient reasoning. And the only person who would be able to help was Major Crimes. "We're going to Major Crimes, and we're going to ask them to look into something for us. It may be better to have them approach, then us." Parker said, getting into the car followed by Pierce on the passenger side. After leaving the docks and later arriving at the Major Crimes Unit "2nd Precinct," Parker would head inside and demand to talk to a detective with intimate knowledge of how the Falcones operate, but would refuse to give a reason as to why. This was sure to gain some suspicion, but Parker knew that eventually someone in the MCU would have to come and speak to him.

January 2nd, 1997 - Major Crimes Unit, Upper West Hill, Scott Boulevard "2nd Precinct" - 1.10 PM
Kareema "Karen" Howard

Another day at this hive of corruption. Oh, how long she wished for the day the VP comes along to Gotham. She already prepared for this, too. It's quite of a usual business for black market to has access to sniper rifle and although Karen could just used Falcone or Sullivan's weaponry, using a black market is another way of gaining access to one. Although, given that it could incited something much more terrible if the crime families were implicated in the attempt, well, that could be bad too. But that is hard to do, and without justified reasons it would be harder to get her hands on one.

So she settled on a sniper rifle from black market. Soviet Union had fell, and they have plenty of good arms to be bought. It's expensive, but she still have some of monthly allowance from Falcone left that she rarely used, so she could bought SVD Dragunov. And with ten bullets. Now she needs to practices upon the use of sniper rifle, probably lend a sniper rifle or hunting rifle from Sullivan and use it at firing range or something.

Anyway, while she is in her paperwork mode, and arranging for the plan of security detail, one of the junior detective mentioned two detectives from RHD asking for someone who knows of Falcone's operations. Well, that is her field.

She arrived at the front and saw the two detectives. "Hello, gentlemen. My name is Det. Karen, at your service. So, I heard you two want to know about Falcones operations? I can give you some information, but for what purpose? Our activities is a little bit busy so any information you can tell to me will be helpful in my search for Falcone information."

"And you can trust no one knows this but you two and me," as she motioned for the three of them to move somewhere secluded to avoid any passer-by.

[Main Nation Ministry]

1/2/97

West Side Penny Arcade

Gotham City. The worst place in the world. Well, maybe also Caracas in Venezuela, but that's an different story. Joseph was polishing a bagatelle table game, when some teens dropped by. "Welcome to West Side Penny Arcade. Got some nice machines to have you, guys try-"
"This place is so old school. Where the hell is the arcade machines?" one of the teens said to Joseph.
"Surely, teens like you should be nice. I mean there is some pinball machines, everyone still remember pinball. So you kids are going to be nice for once or are you soulless without emotion?"

The teens left, probably snickering behind Joseph's back. He needed to survive otherwise, he didn't want to have his own place be robbed while he was gone. He needed to make a reputation for once. He needed to start over and didn't have snitches for once. Joseph went through the employees only door which simply led upstairs to his room. It wasn't a five star suite, but it was a place to live. He went to his phone and made a voicemail to the Falcone Family.

"Hello? I'm a simple businessman wishing to expand. Now I like to have permission to buy some guns from you, guys. I think some shotguns and some shells would be fine. If you get this message, message me back or head to my place in West Side. It's the Penny Arcade place. Bye."

[Waztaskio]

January 2nd, 1997 - Major Crimes Unit, 2nd Precinct - 1:13pm

After a few moments of waiting, a Detective Karen had approached the group offering her assistance if they followed her to a more private place. After they arrived, Parker and Pierce introduced themselves, and Parker took over the remainder of the conversation. "Detective Karen, we're working on a murder case of the Butcher of South Channel Island, we believe that the Falcones may know some important details we have yet to discover. The Butcher operates in South Channel Island as his name states, and from our knowledge the Falcones have influence over that island. It stands to reason that since most of the murders end up around the dock yards of the Island as well as the mass grave we found at one point, I believe the Falcones know a little bit more then they're admiting to us at this time and we wish to question them. I need to know who is the Falcone in charge of overseeing operations of South Channel Island and where can we find them, and we believe Major Crimes has that information." Parker said, as he awaited a response.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

(Image)

January 2nd, 1997 - Major Crimes Unit, 2nd Precinct - 1:13pm

After a few moments of waiting, a Detective Karen had approached the group offering her assistance if they followed her to a more private place. After they arrived, Parker and Pierce introduced themselves, and Parker took over the remainder of the conversation. "Detective Karen, we're working on a murder case of the Butcher of South Channel Island, we believe that the Falcones may know some important details we have yet to discover. The Butcher operates in South Channel Island as his name states, and from our knowledge the Falcones have influence over that island. It stands to reason that since most of the murders end up around the dock yards of the Island as well as the mass grave we found at one point, I believe the Falcones know a little bit more then they're admiting to us at this time and we wish to question them. I need to know who is the Falcone in charge of overseeing operations of South Channel Island and where can we find them, and we believe Major Crimes has that information." Parker said, as he awaited a response.

January 2nd, 1997 - Major Crimes Unit, Upper West Hill, Scott Boulevard "2nd Precinct" - 1.15 PM
Kareema "Karen" Howard

Well, this is interesting. She could added things to the current situation. Maybe implicating someone. She was unsure where to started, though. "Well, there's this man, his name is...Johnnie Rocker. But everyone calls him John. He's no Italian, so he's no made man. He's Irish, more importantly former made man in the Sullivan. He has a pub as a front for black market, and some said that in his basement of the pub, he held some...murders there. Dumped the bodies elsewhere, even with his background," as she chuckled grimly. "He's important to the Falcone, because of his IRA background."

"I tell ya, he's probably the man you're looking for. He no longer felt happy with his current position since he's no Italian, and he wants to make a name of himself." She stopped short from telling more, but one last thing. "Another thing, the CRU guys have some grudges on him, and I bet Falcones didn't like a loose cannon like him. So rounding up some CRU guys and hit the place if you need some backup."

"That's all I can tell. Shutting him down and you're shutting down part of the black market trading. Unless you really want some heat on your back."

[Recon]

Chris Zhou
January 2nd, 1997. 16:20.
Gotham International Airport, Gotham City.

He was glad to see the back of them. The men in suits were talking casually as they boarded their plane back to DC. The Lieutenant waited until the Gulf Stream taxied onto the runway before walking back to car. It had been a long day. The feds had arrived at 06:00, the first of many advance teams preparing for the Vice President’s visit on the 25th. With the Major Crimes Unit being tasked as liaison, Chris had borne the worst of it, thank god tomorrow is a Friday, he thought. They had started off with a whistle stop tour of the bridges and tunnels connecting the airport to Uptown. The plan, which the feds were reluctant to share, seemed to be using the bridges to reach Midtown to visit the GCPD and then Downtown to City Hall. Chris was tempted to take them straight through the Narrows, past the Asylum let them really see something, but the Lieutenant wanted it all to go smoothly. So the convoy of vehicles took the much more civilised Midtown Bridge instead.

Throughout the journey they had to put up with the comments. Gotham’s high crime rate was well known, but with the decline nationwide, it was becoming more conspicuous by the day. In the past, you could have lumped cities together, what was the difference between a Gotham and a New York? But as other cities cleaned up their acts, Gotham’s reputation grew. Thus the federals treated them no better than drivers. A location was provided and the GCPD units task was to get them there in a prompt and efficient manner. At each the location, the federals would spend an hour or more, making an onsite assessment and then they would return back to the car. At no time would they ask the cops who lived and worked in the city each day to offer their expertise. The high crime rate deemed all of them to be incompetent, at least in their guest’s eyes.

Aside from the officially requested locations such as GCPD and City Hall, there were unscheduled stops at Wayne Tower and Gotham City Stadium. Chris had watched the news the night before, this was reported as a working trip, it better be, he thought. Discussing how to lower the crime rate was one thing, but a potential event at the stadium and a quick tour of Wayne Industries would complicate matters massively. It was not implausible, Gotham was not on the top of a national politician’s list of dream destinations, if two birds could be killed with one stone, any warm blooded babykisser would see it as an opportunity. The day ended as it started back at the airport, the guests checked out the heliport and with a cursory goodbye, they were up and away. He could not take another day wasted on this duty, he had told Lieutenant Rothschilds on the journey back, when the next advance group were expected to arrive, he would rather be out in uniform for the day. Anything was better than this he thought, acting not as a MCU detective but as a glorified taxi driver.

[Waztaskio]

January 6th, 1997 - 2nd Precinct - 1:00pm

"Station, meeting. Briefing room, now!!!" Lieutenant Rothschild yelled out onto the precinct floor, startling the MCU detectives and some suspects. The detectives, knowing not to cross their lieutenant would quickly begin to make their way into the briefing room, as Rothschild stands at the podium with a rather annoyed expression on his face looking over the detectives in the room. "What the hell, are you idiots doing?! Can someone answer me that?!" Rothschild yelled out, looking around the room for someone to answer. The room would be dead silent, with the detectives either trying to avoid eye contact with the lieutenant, and the rest attempting to look as they're paying full attention while also trying to keep themselves on a low profile. "Nobody wants to speak, right? Nobody at all?" Rothschild said, still receiving no answer and would clearly look to be getting angrier.

"Alright, that's fine. You're detectives who clearly don't know shit, from piss. I'll make this easy for you. Detective Clemons, get your ass up here now!" Rothschild said. Detective Clemons had been in the MCU for over ten years, and was considered one of the more senior detectives of the unit. He was a little bulky, and always had various items of food nearby wherever he went, but otherwise he was a pretty effective detective when he chose to be. As the lieutenant called him out, he would slowly make his way up to the front, standing on the right side of the podium, "Yes, lieutenant?" Clemons said. Lieutenant Rothschild would take out his pistol from his holster, pointing it at Clemons face and disengages the safety.

"Detective Clemons, what is this in my hand?" Rothschild said, while Clemons stared down the barrel. "A firearm, lieutenant." Clemons said. "Glad you're paying attention. Detectives this is indeed a firearm, a pistol to be precise. My pistol. Now you all my be wondering why I'm point it at this huckable sack of falcone garbage, and to that I'll be glad to answer. In a few FUCKING WEEKS, the PRESIDENT OF THIS COUNTRY, is COMING TO GOTHAM! Something I feel you all have just placed on the backburner. Now unless you all forgot how Gotham works, let me remind you." Rothschild would grab hold of the barrel of the pistol, slamming the handle into Detective Clemons face, causing him to fall back and hold his nose that began to bleed.

"Fuck!" Detective Clemons shouted, as the lieutenant placed his firearm on the podium. "In Gotham, you bend or you get bent. Knowing this, let me go over all the things you all seem to not be on top of. First, an RHD detective comes in asking for information on the Falcone in charge of South Channel Island. Then I hear that this same RHD detective after talking with a detective here, is later reported to be shaking down various local crime bosses for answers in regards to a Serial Killer. If that weren't bad enough, it's making the Falcones pissed at such a precious time. And, if that weren't bad enough we got this this note today from the gang known as The True." Rothschild would reach into his upper suit pocket, pulling otu a crumpled note as he straightens it out and begins to read it.

"Dear detectives of the Gotham City Police Department. We here at The True hope you have received this letter, and hope it gets to the appropriate officials in good faith. We wish to inform you of an upcoming massacre that could very much be triggered by the mishandling of a certain "operation," by your department. We are of course referring to the Vice Presidents visit to Gotham in the coming weeks. The Vice President will be captured by our most experienced members, and any interference from the Gotham City Police Department will be met with a massacre. Take this as a warning to stay away from the Vice President, lest you be caught in the cross-fire. We are one. We are God. Play with us, and you'll be gone. Sweet day Gotham, Sweet Day."

As Lieutenant Rothschild would begin to crumple up the note, a voice would come from the doorframe. "It's always something in Gotham, isn't it Lieutenant?" The man would wear a ceremonial GCPD uniform, and be bound by a wheelchair as he enters the room. "Chief Bradshaw, what brings you to 2nd Precinct?" Rothschild said, as Bradshaw sighed. "Seems there would be action here, and from what I heard coming in I was right. The True is at it again." Rothschild would nod, as the chief would roll himself further into the room looking at the detectives. "Detectives, this is Gotham. Strange shit happens on the daily, and some of it is downright paranormal. However, don't feel scared. I've been in this department for a long time, longer then most of you in this room and even crippled I still come to work with an attitude to work as hard as I can to make it better. I however, came here to make an announcement. Due to the upcoming events in this city, I no longer feel I will be able to faithfully execute the duties as Chief of Police. It is effective, on January 8th that I will be officially considered retired from the service and a new Chief will be picked from among the detectives and staff of 2nd precinct. I cannot go into details, but anyone who wishes to put their name in the running will be eligible, and be subject to approval from the Commissioner himself. So if you believe you can hack it, like I did at one point, speak with your Lieutenant and get your name submitted."

Chief Bradshaw would give a small salute, before wheeling himself out of the room. "Well, outside of that. To finish off this briefing, we have new assignments. I need some detectives to "assist," with the investigation of the Serial Killer in South Channel, and the rest focused on The True. You can start by asking around West Side, and follow the leads where they take you. Dismissed!

[Recon]

Chris Zhou
January 6th, 1997. 15:15.
South Channel Park, South Channel Island.

Chris did not need to be told twice, he had watched the whole display with Clemons and then the Chief. The whole department was falling apart under the strain and his gut was telling him to keep his head down. Being out here, freezing in the cold, assisting the RHD was still better than working under the microscope on "The True" investigation with Lieutenant Rothschild. He had been partnered up with Detective Karen Howard, who had served in MCU much long than he had, so as the Senior Detective she had the lead. Working together in the same office, meant they knew each other, but they had only worked together infrequently. He had only served for one year and while Howard was Asian, she wasn’t Chinese, so perhaps that was the reason they had not worked together in the China Basin.

Lieutenant Rothschild had arranged their assignment. He had heard Howard was the one seen talking to RHD, so when the roles had been handed out, the Lieutenant had pulled him aside.

“This Serial Killer is an important case for the department and this unit, so all leads will need to be cleared through me. I`ll decide if whatever we learn makes it appropriate for MCU to take over the investigation, if not I will pass it all onto Lieutenant Carter at Robbery-Homicide directly. Chain of Command Zhou, Howard forgot about it, you’d better not”.

That was the part about keeping his head down. It did not feel good, but he wouldn’t feel any better if he was drummed out of the Department.

The Park was long past its glory days, city workers still arrived every morning to trim the bushes, cut the lawns and to clean up the broken bottles and used needles, but even the GCPD tended to avoid the park at night. The last body had been found on the South Channel and the park was considered an ideal dumping site. Thankfully they did not find another trash bag full of body parts. Standing out here in the cold for hours waiting for forensics that was one of the reasons he did not regret leaving patrol. It was bad enough taking off his thick winter gloves to write notes every time they had to conduct a field interview with whatever homeless person, junkie or those very few insane people who still attempted to use the park as it was designed, for exercise and leisure.

All the time they were being watched. Chris had felt eyes upon them since the bridge. Their police issued Black Dodge Diplomat stood out around here, amongst the Lincoln Continentals, Imperial LeBarons and Cadillac Coupe DeVilles preferred by the Falcone mob. After touring the park, they walked back to the car. There was a group of men stood around the entrance to a restaurant, with a faded sign above, Giuseppe's Clam House. It was a Falcone hangout, they were all over the place here on the South Channel. Chris gestured towards the restaurant, “Let’s ask these guys”.

As they both walked across, Chris took off his gloves and stuffed them in his coat pocket.

“Gentlemen, GCPD” he flashed his badge. “We are looking for someone suspicious; they would have been in this vicinity, New Year’s Eve or New Year’s Day”.

He saw the blank faces staring back at him,

“Come on guys, you want us here about as much as we want to be here. He’s a serial killer. A loner. Anyone?”

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

January 6th, 1997 - South Channel Park, South Channel Island, 3.14 PM
Kareema "Karen" Howard

Detective Zhou is her partner, well sort of. Despite the fact that he is her partner, they were never worked together since both of them had a different areas to be watched upon with her on the other side and his on China Basin. It didn't minded her much, though. Keeping herself working alone could be good as to not associated her with the MCU, though the fact that she's MCU muddled up things faster than she ever wanted to. Of course, now they had to worked together for the Serial Killer Investigation. It seemed someone leaked of her meeting with RHD, perhaps they though they were being good or currying favors. No need to be done like that, then again.

She accompanied Zhou on their journey to South Channel Park, where they found the body. Forensics already on their task, but with whatever left on it. She didn't liked on the South Channel Island. This place is Falcone's, and she didn't liked moving around in her police identity, she is much comfortable not on this kind of identity, but on the civilian one. Perhaps something could be changed in the future.

Both of them headed to Falcone's hangout, and as they entered the place, she was relieved to saw none of them had a familiar face to recognized her. It minded her much to be remembered constantly about her mafia links. But perhaps she could use some favors, "Look guys, I appreciated if you all don't want to talk something. But I know you all dealt something illegal behind Don himself. I can tell him about these...things," as she delightfully looking into her hands. Few of them looked shifted, but so far nothing.

"I mean...I'm pretty sure he won't likes these things you did behind him. I can hide these things you all do....if you can tell us something. Anything. Anything can be appreciated, as long as it has results. It doesn't, and well, say goodbye to your life," she smirked to them.

[Recon]

Chris Zhou
January 6th, 1997. 15:18.
South Channel Park, South Channel Island.

You could cut the tension with a knife, not that Chris wanted to see one. Those blank faces they had first encountered had changed quickly from confusion to anger. Detective Howard was certainly confident, this Chris had no doubt. Implying you’d get these men killed if they did not comply , wasn't an enforcement tactic, he remembered from the academy. Back in the Basin, Chris found the softly softly approach worked best for him, shake hands, make nice and ensure that everyone knew you were not here to trying to change the status quo. Then you could get results. It had worked for him, but Karen had a different approach one that probably included a sledgehammer. It wasn’t working well, he saw the men were restless now.

Finally one of them spoke up,

“I ain’t ever seen you before officer, what’s my name?” he paused a beat; “You don’t know anything about me or my business” he looked to catch the eyes of the men standing around him, “And even if you did. Why would anyone believe a cop? Everyone knows you guys are biggest cheats and crooks in the city”

They all shared a laugh at that. Chris slide a hand inside his coat and felt for his pistol, these mob guys could turn in a moment, he’d seen the films, one minute your laughing, the next minute your lying in a pool your own blood. Just at that moment, the door to the restaurant swung open.

A man stepped outside and the crowd which had been surrounding them quickly turned “Come on guys, stop blocking the door way. You ain’t got anything better to do than scare off my customers?”.

The men muttered, but with reluctance dispersed. The owner watched them leave before turning his attention on Karen and Chris.

“Please Detectives, it is cold. Come inside.”

Chris gave Karen a look before following the man inside.

It was deliciously warm, he felt better already as they were steered towards an empty table. The detectives took the seats against the wall, as their training recommended. It was quiet – as expected for 3pm on a Monday – just a few small groups. Couples, work colleagues perhaps and one table certainly of mobsters, they all wore the same combination of suits and expense jewellery. Behind the counter was likely a small kitchen, empty from what Chris could see. Beside it was another room, perhaps a store room or something else. From his seat, he did not have a clear view, but there was certainly some movement going on in there and he could hear raised voices. The owner walked back to the counter, closed the door to that room and returned a few moments later with three cups of coffee. “Please” he said as he handed over the cups.

“This is my restaurant, I am Giuseppe.” He motioned to the name above the counter, “We want no trouble here”.

Chris added some milk and sugar and gave the coffee a stir.

“Sir, we are involved in the investigation to the serial killer. Have you heard about the case?” The man nodded,

“I saw it on the news. It’s all they talk about now”.

Zhou didn’t say anything; he just took a drink from his cup. It was stale, he almost spat it out, when the Coffee reached his tongue. Instead Giuseppe spoke this time, he leaned across the table and lowered his voice

“If I was to know something about this killer, perhaps something someone else had seen. A car, would you detectives kindly leave my restaurant in peace? Starting arguments out front is bad for business”.