BRUISED ☾ THE BATMAN (2022)

CHAPTER EIGHT

"Above all, don't lie to yourself."

Slow would be a word to describe Alex's life. She was pulled away from her case to help stop petty crimes, even though she knew how useless it was. How she could be doing more with interviewing and investigating her 'joker'. But she's got orders, and as much as she wants to disobey, but knows she can't afford to do such a thing so often. She hasn't had a lot of positive interaction since the funeral, speaking to Bruce Wayne. Positivity at a funeral. That's the way in Gotham city she supposed.

Her free time, aside from arresting these clown followers, was writing the mundane police reports that came along. It was good writing practice but she was growing bored. She always was fearful another joker killing would occur, making the number 3, which could then could classify him as a serial killer. Another serial killer running around Gotham. It was wrong for Alex to see that as exciting.

When her shifts ended, Alex attempted to make an effort to check in on her father, Anthony Flores, who has lived on his own for quite some time. Since the funeral he's been on her mind, thinking of her deceased mother led to thinking of her father. The man was used to being alone, Alex got that from him. She asked how his weeks have been, making sure he didn't need anything from her, like groceries, or rides to appointments. She offered, knowing he'd say no. He was stubborn, also something Alex inherited from him. Alex also called Gordon regularly, enjoying the conversations more with him than her own father at some points. Her father had his good moments but is still the same bitter, angry old man.

Slow.

The printed buzzed, paper jammed in the paper holder. Alex groaned in annoyance and smacked the side of the machine, earning some odd glances from colleagues.

"Yeah, they're still looking for that guy that escaped Arkham." A distant voice mutters, following the statement was the sound of him sipping his steaming cup of coffee. Alex eavesdropped out of pure boredom. It was coming from a cubicle a few feet behind from where she was standing.

"Oh yeah? You'd think they caught him by now. I know a lot of the squad is looking. How hard is it to find a crazy person in Gotham." The other replies. She definitely recognized that voice, belonging to Officer Joe Sims, but the other voice was someone she was unfamiliar with.

"The problem is, there are too many crazies here to find a specific one." Fair point.

"I know, but my wife was telling me this guy was fucked up looking." The young officer trails off. "Skin looks like melted fuckin wax. She said he got chemically burned. Also, has these uh, scars on his cheeks. Like they were cut open." Now Alex's interest was piqued. She turns around slowly and eyes the two conversing men. Could they potentially be talking about the literal serial killer that was on the loose? And if so, why not come to her with this information? She didn't wanna immediately assume, but it was hard not to.

"Kinda like what happened to Commissioner Pike?" Sims' asks in disbelief. She gripped the printer in anticipation.

"Oh shit.. Yea." Before Alex knew what she was doing, she was barreling over to the two cops. Officer Sims and some new recruit. Of fucking course.  Their eyes land on her and grow wide.

"What the hell are you talking about?" She berates. Her body language screamed anxiety.

"Why are you listening to our conversation?" The new guy, his name tag reads Sanchez, asks, clearly confused to who Alex even is. Clueless fucking rookie.

"I'm the lead detective on the Pike murder. This conversation should be one you have with me, not this fucking guy." She jerks her thumb towards Sims angrily. "This isn't gossip. This could be a potential lead. Tell me what your wife told you. She's a nurse there?"

The recruit looked like a deer caught in the headlights. "Oh shit, sorry, I didn't know-"

"Tell me." She has no time for this guy's stupidity right now. She needs any sort of lead right now, rather than gripping to straws, that have been leading her absolutely nowhere.

"She just said the guy is a nutjob, has a fucked up face from an accident he had months ago. Cuts imitating a smile. When we were watching the news yesterday and they described Pike's uh, face, she said it seems familiar. We thought it was just a coincidence...." His voice shaked like a leaf in autumn. He was definitely intimidated by Alex right now, that fact made her feel powerful. She loved it. The pull and position she had, making new guys shake in their boots.

Aside, this sounded like a reliable lead, and more than just a goddamn coincidence. She needed to break this fucking case soon, she was starting to get worried she wouldnt have any further connections until another person was found killed. She didn't want another life being taken. She needed to take this 'joker' down.

"What's his name? How long has he been missing?" Alex is slowly pulling out her notepad from her blazer pocket and scribbling some key words down.

"Arthur Fleck, they've said it on the news. He's been gone for 3 weeks now, I'd say it was when my wife first mentioned it to me." Three weeks since Samuel Locke was killed. She nods, jotting down the guy's name.

"Anything else I should know?"

"That's all. She hasn't said much else, just they're hoping to find him." Sanchez replies, squeezing his hands together in a nervous manner.

"Next time, don't tell this idiot this shit. Come to me. This is important, and this kind of thing can actually get you somewhere. Workplace gossip gets you nowhere." Suddenly she's gone, leaving Sims slightly offended and Sanchez shaken out of his mind. Complete fucking idiots, but to be fair, Sanchez had no clue who the hell she was. He hasn't been on any calls regarding these murders. She was just mad and fairly desperate at this point.

Alex can predict the conversation the two men had after walking away but it wasn't close to being on her mind.

As she left the station, a couple lingering reporters were outside, cameras rolling, microphones in hand. Since the newscasters named the Joker, these people have been camping outside the precinct, trying to get a crumb of information. She knew some of her idiotic colleagues would love to be the centre of attention and give away information they shouldn't be speaking into the grimy hands of these journalists.

"Detective Flores." One calls out to her, shoving a mic into her face. "You're the lead on this case, correct?" Alex flushes red and nods, not wanting to expose but not wanting to be rude. But maybe that's what she needs to do. "Are you close to finding the Joker?"

"Giving him a name will most likely escalate the killings, thanks for that." Maybe she shouldn't have been so rude but it gets the guy to shut up. "If you'll excuse me..." More reporters call to her but she pushes through, annoyance bubbling in her chest. As she reaches the bottom of the steps, she spots a posey of the followers, Halloween make up caked onto their faces, resembling a clown, or jokers on that goddamn playing card. The hype was becoming insane. It reminded her of those women who are obsessed with serial killers, sending love letters, idolizing them, professing their love.

She glances over and notices one staring her down. When Alex makes eye contact with him a chilling feeling rushed through her. As the others are working on setting a garbage can on fire, he just stares at her. She doesn't have time to go over and deal with that. The clown grins wickedly at her. A knowing , sinister grin. It gives her the creeps, but doesn't completely grab her attention.

Under the make up, it was too hard to tell it was the mangled face of Arthur Fleck. She shook her head and continued on to her car.