[ Post a Response | Role Play Board ]
Posted by Nightwing
on 10/15/2008, 5:57 pm, in reply to "What Goes Around (Part 5)"
98.242.72.252
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-----={GCPD Headquarters}=-----
Men and women, dressed in all blue, scurry about the always busy office of one Commissioner Gordon. They dodge one another in a rhythmic movement as if performing a routine dance. Each of them rushing off to perform a specific task that has been given to them, all of which relate back to the constant supervision of one of the top five crime ridden cities in the United States; Gotham.
The large wooden doors leading to the inner den of the Commissioner remain closed. From the outside silhouettes can be seen moving throughout the office via the glazed windows that rest in the middle. Angry and outraged screams can be heard from beyond their protective closure. The passionate discussion concludes rather quickly with the loud crash of a flying object striking something fragile.
Seconds later the left door is ripped open and from the dimly lit room Detective Harvey Bullock storms out followed closely by Gordon. Their conversation isn’t quite over, but it’s evident that Bullock wants it to be. Reaching into his pocket, he produces a bent, half smoked cigarette and places it into his willing mouth. Gordon yells for him to stop, and so he hesitantly stops as the lighter in his hand illuminates the remains of his nicotine relief. As he turns back at Gordon, Bullock lets out a heavy sigh from his first big puff, covering the Commissioner in thick smog.
Gordon doesn’t let it bother him, and he continues his verbal assault on the helpless detective, “Damn it Harvey, how could you let these kid get away? We need one of these punks for a DNA test. If we have any hope of getting any kind of proof on what they are doing, forensics needs something solid they can work with.”
“You’re not hearing me Jim. These kids are on something special. They are faster than that damn kid running around Central City in red spandex. None of us are going to be able to catch em,” Bullock throws his hands up out of frustration.
The older, gray haired man runs his hand slowly along his face, stopping just above his brow. He massages his temples before sliding the hand through his hair and letting it rest on his neck, “Look Harvey, I don’t mean to be on your ass about this, but do you have any idea what kind of effect this is going to have on this city if we don’t do something to nip it in the bud now?”
Harvey glares at his boss and sighs as he slowly nods, “Yeah…”
“Then please, just get me some hard evidence I can throw at the Mayor and the boys upstairs,” Gordon pleads with his hands outreached in a prayer before Bullock.
Without another word, Bullock turns and slowly makes his way towards the door. Gordon lets his head and back slump over, the stress of a new drug raiding his city more than he can handle.
“Looks like you’ve got your hands full Jimmy boy.”
Gordon looks up and to his left to where the voice had come from. His expression shifts quickly as he spots another elderly gentleman sitting on the bench outside his office. Moving quickly, he runs over to the other man with open arms, “I’ll be damned, Curtis Phillips how are you, you old bastard?”
The man laughs and accepts the hug from his old friend. For a moment they pat each other on the back and reflect on the memories of their childhood that come rushing to both of them, “I’m doing ok. I was feeling pretty down on myself until I came in here and saw that little scene.”
Gordon laughs as he walks back to his office door and motions for Phillips to follow. Both men step into the dark office as Gordon closes the door behind them. He makes his way to the desk that rests in the center of the room and takes a seat. Phillips follows suit and takes the seat in front of Gordon’s desk. He leans in, letting his gut push against the desk, and waits for the answers he’s sure are to come.
Pushing the glasses back onto the bridge of his nose, Gordon clears his throat and begins, “I’m sorry you had to see my little outburst back there. There are a lot of crazy things in this city and it continues to get worse with each passing day. That’s why I called you old friend. I need your help. I wouldn’t have done this in most instances, but as I’m sure your now aware, I’m at my wit’s end.”
Phillips raises his eyebrows and sits back in the chair, “I would love to help you out buddy, but I honestly don’t know what I can do for you Jim. I’m just a lowly hotel owner from Las Vegas now.”
Gordon shakes his head, “Don’t give me that crap Curt. I know just as well as you do that you don’t forget how to be a cop. The things that you experience in the field do things to you; they mold you into someone else. It doesn’t take skills to be a cop, it takes instincts and experience. Instincts I know you still have, buried deep down in that old exterior you now wear.”
The younger of the two men rubs his head and scratches at a thought buried deep within his mind, “Jim, I don’t…I don’t know man. It’s been, what, more than twenty years since I was a cop? We had some great times in Chicago and you taught me so much about being a great cop, but I’m not that same kid you helped out so long ago.” Curt laughs to himself, “Hell, I don’t even think I could fit into a uniform now.”
They both laugh and let silence fall over their conversation. Each of them thinks about what to say next, but unsure where to go from here. Gordon finally breaks the silence, his determination restored, “You can do this. I wouldn’t ask this of anyone if I didn’t think I needed the help. You’re a great cop Curt, always was, always will be. You can be someone I trust, someone who will help teach the others, someone they can all look up to.”
Again Phillips shakes his head, “Jim, I’m no role model…”
Gordon stands and buries his hands on the desk, “That’s bullshit! What happened to you? Has Vegas really changed you this much? There was a time that you would have accepted this offer at the drop of a hat. What more can I say to you Curt? I’m out of answers; I’ve exhausted every other option I have. You’re all I have left.”
“Jim…,” Phillips thinks for a moment, look up at his friend’s hopeless face. It tears at his heart to see Gordon in such bad shape. He knows the stakes, but he doesn’t trust himself to fill such a big role. “Can I have some time to think about this?”
Sitting back down in his chair, Gordon peels the glasses from his face and sighs. His large hand reaches for the bridge of his nose and squeezes tightly, “There isn’t a lot of time left. Go back to your hotel tonight and think it over, ok? Let me know what you want to do in the morning.”
Phillips thinks for a moment, sitting in silence. Finally he stands, and nods his head, “Alright Jim, thank you.”
Unable to face his friend, Curtis turns and makes his way towards the door. Before he can escape, Gordon calls back to him, “I still believe in you. You’re rusty and that makes you nervous. I get that Curt, but that doesn’t change the great partner that you were in Chicago. You can be great again.”
Curtis doesn’t turn around, he only nods and walks out. As the door to his office closes once more, Jim lets his true emotions show, slinging his glasses halfway across the room. He glares at the shadow through the glazed doors and frowns, “Or you can go back to a non-existing life in Vegas, working as a humble hotel manager. The choice is yours old friend…”
***TBC***
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