Light Casts Shadow
Cutscene: Light Casts Shadow
Author
IC Details
Synopsis:

As the Court of Owls unleash their second attack, Jim Gordon makes a decision that might cost him dearly.

IC Date: August 20, 2019
IC Location: GCPD Headquarters
OOC Notes & Details
Posted: 20 Aug 2019 21:34
Rating & Warnings: PG
Associated Plots

Their feet clamber up the stairs, Jim Gordon taking two at a time while Harvey Bullock huffs and puffs his way behind him. Outside GCPD Headquarters, the moonlit night is alive with sirens as the second Court of Owls attack befalls the city.

The first attack had been small, isolated, almost focused attacks — people, targets. Tonight, the Talons widen their net and scramble their motives. No longer is it just Lincoln March that is in their sights, making it harder for GCPD to predict where the next attack will be. Already calls have come in — the Talons have taken to Gotham City in greater numbers. A decision had to be made, and the moment Jim Gordon headed for the stairwell, both he and Bullock knew what it was.

Gordon shoulders his way out onto the roof, crossing it with broad strides. Bullock is wheezing his way out after the Commissioner just as Jim rips off the canvas that covers the enormous, dormant spotlight that occupies one corner of the rooftop.

"You light that up, Commish," Bullock barks out at Jim's back, "they're not gonna even give you a chance to explain yourself. That'll be it! You will have chosen your side, and it ain't gonna be the side that they want the Commissioner of Police on."

Jim's hand lingers on the switch, looking down at his scarred knuckles. His fingers flex and relax around the grip, the rubber worn and familiar. How many times had he climbed up to the roof of GCPD headquarters and pulled this switch without thinking twice. The city needed it, needed him to make that call. And now…

"You always know what I'm going to choose, Harvey — I'm not going to back down because it might cost me." He turns slightly toward the heavy-set man — the man who had been his partner, always would be his partner even after he became Captain, and then Commissioner. The moonlight reflects off the lenses of his glasses, draining the color from his salted red hair, the blue of his tie, the taupe of his trench coat.

Harvey's jaw sets, and he nods slowly. "Let me do it."

Jim blinks, and he begins to shake his head. "No, Bullock, that's — "

"What've I got to lose? My pension? Ha. I'd've just wasted it on booze and women." It's a flippant throwaway comment that only Jim would know is part of Harvey Bullock's enduring demeanor — his own mask that hides the hard, dedicated cop who rallied back from corruption. He showed Jim that there is always a path of redemption.

He starts toward Jim, surprisingly quick despite the Harvey's bulldog frame. He is already a handful of steps from Jim before the Commissioner throws his weight behind the switch, slamming it into place with a zzt. The signal has not been lit in over eight months; it flickers, and its immediate heat burns off the dust and cobwebs that gathered around its frame. It shines bright into the night, catching a few solitary clouds. Jim's back is to it, but he can still feel its brightness heat the back of his trench coat. It brings a relieved smile to his lips. He's made his call — come what may.

"Uh. Jim?"

He looks up to see Bullock staring, slack-jawed, at the skies. Jim turns slowly around, looking up to the spot where the spotlight hits the clouds. His eyes widen, because there in the dark shines the face of an Owl, staring down over Gotham City.

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