Prince of Darkness ~ Gotham

~ Chapter Eleven: Councilmen Killer ~

Who is this guy? And how does he know Dad? Holly wondered as her mother invited the strange man into the apartment. Holly noticed his limp as he walked but kept her gaze focused on his face as he thanked Barbara for letting him in. "I'm Peter. Peter... Humboldt. Lovely to meet you at last," He smiled. "Nice to meet you, Peter," Barbara replied. Peter looked over in Holly's direction, walking over to the sofa. "And who might you be, little miss?" He inquired. "I'm Holly," she introduced herself, shaking his hand as he held it out. "Pleasure to meet you," Peter smiled.

"Holly and I never get to meet any of Jim's friends, cause he never tells us anything," Barbara chuckled, as did Peter. "Mm. Men," He shrugged. "Don't I know. Would you like a drink?" But before Barbara could take a step towards the kitchen, Jim entered the conversation, leaving Holly to sit and watch. "No, he's a work friend. It's a work thing," He insisted. Holly could smell the tension in the room as "Peter" stuttered, explaining how he just got back to Gotham and had an idea to talk about with Jim. But as he turned to look at Jim, the subtle but evident message of "You need to leave," was clear.

"I'll walk you out," Jim said, placing a firm hand on Peter's shoulder as they walked out, the door closing behind them. "Wasn't he a nice guy?" Barbara questioned, breaking the awkward silence. "Eh... I guess so," Holly responded, both unaware of what was happening below them outside.

~~~~~~~~~

"I told you never to come back here!" Jim growled, grabbing Oswald by his shirt and pushing him against the concrete pillar. "I know. I know. I-I apologize. But I-I just wanted to speak with you!" Oswald stammered. Jim looked around every once in a while, hearing the sounds of police sirens wailing off in the distance. To Jim, it felt like at any moment Falcone would appear out of the shadows and discover the truth. "No! If Falcone finds out you're alive, he'll kill us both!" Jim warned.

Still under Jim's tight grip, Oswald's eyes started welling up with tears of fear. Despite Jim's warning to never return, he couldn't bear to be away from the city he had lived in his entire life. Gotham was Oswald's home, and it always would be. "I should've killed you. I should put a bullet in your head right now!" Jim's knuckles popping under the pressure of his balled fists and anger. "But you won't, Jim Gordon," Oswald spoke with confidence. "Because you're a good man. You may very well be the last good man in Gotham, and that's why I want to help you!"

"I don't want your help," Jim shook his head. "No, no, but you need it! That vile creature Fish Mooney, Don Falcone, the police... not even your own partner trusts you. They will always hide the truth from you! But not me. Never," Oswald insisted. "You saved my life!" Jim let go of Oswald and started to walk away, cursing to himself and wishing he hadn't. Out of the corner of his eye, Oswald saw an empty bottle lying in the street and grabbed it. "Kill me now or trust me!" Oswald shook the bottle in Jim's direction. Without warning, Jim smacked the bottle of his hand, shattering it on the concrete below them. As he turned to walk away again, Oswald still kept talking.

"I told you there's a war coming, Jim. There will be so many deaths," Oswald limped over to him, grabbing the rolled-up sleeve of his shirt. "So many. Do you want to save Gotham? I can help you! I can be your secret agent!" "Yeah, until Falcone finds out you're alive," Jim scoffed. "Nobody looks for a dead man. That's the best part," Oswald contradicted. Gordon looked around again and stepped closer, asking Cobblepot what he meant by the supposed war. "Why will there be a war?" He questioned. "Well, as you know, war is just politics by other means. And isn't politics just money talking?" Oswald hinted.