ㅤTHE CITYSCAPE IS A MERE BLUR outside the window as my car streaks through gotham's streets, each passing streetlight nauseatingly bright, seeming to flicker due to the vehicle's speed. the roar of the engine, almost deafening in its fever pitch, matches the anger broiling, churning, in my gut. i shouldn't have been the one to answer this call. i shouldn't have been the one to receive the news — over a voicemail, no less, stripped even of the courtesy to speak with kelso man - to - man. but he's always been this way, hasn't he? and i should know more than most, left to pick up the scraps in his wake.
ㅤmy grip on the steering wheel tightens, knuckles blanching white at their uppermost points, and my foot all but slams onto the gas. the grimy, neon world around me is dizzying as i fly past pedestrians and pickups alike, manic thoughts almost daring another cop to flag me down. everything beyond that is a blur, from managing to park the car to practically storming inside the iceberg lounge and demanding to be directed to its owner.
ㅤa quick flash of my badge and the bouncer points me to the bar — empty, save for one familiar patron. eventually, i find myself approaching from behind . . . and i freeze in my tracks. the burning rage in my chest, the all - consuming fire that led me here, gives way to an icy sense of dread that spills through my ribs, pours into every vein and roots me in place. i try and untangle the knots that my stomach's currently twisting into and take a seat at the bar, leaving one stool between me and the club's owner.
ㅤ" i'm not here for business, cobblepot. " i know who he is. what he's capable of. but if i'm looking for any sort of cooperation, i need to take it slow and easy. the bartender affords me a glance, and i briefly raise one hand to request a drink. i'm not picky. not right now, anyway. DO YOU KNOW THAT HE'S IN LOVE WITH YOU? my stomach tightens, brow involuntarily furrowing. kelso and i have never been close, never been friends. not in any sort of traditional sense, anyway. but it's true what they say about the men you serve with — you come back home as brothers, like it or not. and given my track record, i'm sure he likes our newfound familial ties a hell of a lot less than i do.
ㅤbut that deep bond is exactly why i'm here now, talking to a known criminal like we're catching up on old times. " you know where he went, don't you? he left me a voicemail— he sounded stressed. and the only other sound was the same, tired jazz you play here, day in and day out. "
