Bad City for Bad People

Arbor Burwick | The Survivor



She wasn't supposed to be here, seated in the G.C.P.D building, waiting for the two detectives to come into the interrogation room to ask her about the murder she'd witnessed no more than an hour ago. The murder of her best friend. This Friday night had started off like many others. Eloise had called her, asking if Arbor had wanted to go to this new club in a sketchier part of town. Arbor had agreed, she was young restless and after the recent breakup with her boyfriend; lonely. When Eloise had come to pick her up, the night gave no indication of how horrible it'd end up. First of all, the club they got to was kind of a bust. Neither of their scenes the two girls lingered anyway, they talked of their epic love affairs more on Eloise's part, their jobs and taking some time off to get out of Gotham when the Summer month's came. Eloise had then gotten up to dance with a man who'd been gazing at her for the past hour leaving Arbor to her drinks. The wraith-like brunette was always a lightweight, so her three rum and cokes were enough to make her feel lightheaded. The club was loud, music throbbing and pulsating about her while people wound their bodies so close together it felt intimate, and almost intrusive to watch.

Finally, about twenty minutes later though it felt like an eternity Eloise was making her way over, a sort of scorn written on her lips. "Not go well?" Arbor shouted over the music, her honeyed and melodic voice never losing it's sway of charm. "My dead grandpa is more entertaining than him. One more round and we'll leave." It was then things happened in such a blur, Arbor had almost missed it. A commotion from outside the club loud enough for the slender brunette to hear it made her sweep her gaze towards the exit with a sort of morbid curiosity. However, that curiosity turned to horror when she heard a loud noise, which sounded like a gunshot. Living in Gotham for the past three years, she wasn't a stranger to the noise, but she also knew what it meant. The rest of the club surged on around her unawares as two men came storming into the club, blood splattering one's cheek. Without warning or speech the first man pointed his weapon to the crowd and began firing, squeezing round after round out. About her people had begun to notice, and screams filled the tiny club while the music cut suddenly.

Eloise had turned to her as if to say something, panic and terror scrawled in her eyes though whatever she meant to say was cut off by the bullet entering the side of her head. Brain matter, skull and blood exploded against the bar, and Arbor could feel a noise rendering out of her throat that Arbor's brain took a moment to process. Around her bodies upon bodies fell and finally kicking her brain into motion the girl, eyes welling with tears carefully crawled her way behind the bar and tucked herself into a ball squeezing her eyes shut until silence finally fell over the crowd. Whether it was sheer dumb luck, or just some bad cosmic joke neither man checked behind the counter. "We have to go before the pigs show up." One said, over the ravishing silence that made her want to break down. "We've punished these sinners, their crass dancing and boozed crazed lunacy. They're hardly worse than our police force. We must eradicate the infection of this city. James would be proud of you Nick... For taking his cause." Another spoke in a high, phlegmy voice with a dark passion.

"I know Greg. But we gotta go." And then by some miracle the sound of feet scuffling could be heard. She was left shattered, death all around her. "Oh god." Arbor moaned into herself, still curled into a tight little ball shivering and shaking like a leaf in fall during a windy day. She didn't know how long she was left there, but it felt entirely too short and far too long before the sound of sirens could be heard. She didn't move, not as people burst into the club, not as she heard the chattering of voices and police radios. All Arbor could do was stay curled in that ball with her eyes squeezed shut, hyperventilating. But it hadn't taken long for a cop to find her, and after having her checked for injuries radioed that they had a witness, and against her will Arbor was brought down with a couple of cops to the station to "give a statement." She still couldn't get a word out, no she felt frozen and numb. That's how she found herself in the small room, blood still smeared on her cheek while images of Eloise's brain matter splattered on the table haunted her.

Arbor would of cried, sobbed into her arms if she could process what had happened to her. To those people and her friend. But she couldn't, so her gaze rested ahead blankly as the door opened revealing not one but two men. One was older looking, reddish hair streaked with blonds, white, and grays; and certainly gruff around the edges. The other was muscular, to the point of being nearly stocky though his hair was cropped short. "Miss, I'm detective Bullocks and this here is my partner Jim Gordon. Can you start by telling us your name?" Without so much as blinking Arbor didn't move, and it wasn't until the older man snapped his fingers in front of her face, making Arbor suck her breath in sharply. "Ar... Arbor. Burwick. I- is my friend okay?" The looks the two shared was all the answer she needed. "What do you remember?" Shooting. Screams of pain and despair, blood and gore. "I- I didn't see their faces." That wasn't a lie and she could tell by the eye roll of the older one that he wasn't too impressed. "Jim, stay with her huh? I need to take a couple other statements from the other survivor. Captain wants the statement soon. Those mooks are still running around out there." And like that he was gone, leaving her with the younger cop. Statement? Arbor couldn't bring herself to talk through what she'd lived through no more than a half-hour ago.

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Oswald Cobblepot | The King



He had been at his own club only a few miles away when Butch had informed him there'd been a massacre close to them. Apparently there were only three survivors. Who had done the shooting. It wasn't something Falcone or Maroni owned; so he doubted it was turf move. And it had been the third one in two weeks. The first time there were survivors though. Though it never hurt to be absolutely sure. "Butch, watch the club. I'll be stepping out to visit Jim Gordon. For god's sake, don't let my club get shot up while I'm out." The curious man barked, his seaweed color eyes darkening with command. "Sure thing. Need a driver?" Jim hated it when Oswald showed up. He hated it even more when Oswald and friends showed up. "No, I will quite alright on my own. Should anyone disturb my establishment, put a bullet between their eyes. Okay?" His wavering voice rang with an authoritative that made him elated. God it felt good to be in charge of his own place. Well... Kind of. The Don Falcone was still a problem, though if Oswald played his cards right- not for long. And Oswald Cobblepot always played his cards right. Limping heavily out the door and hailing a taxicab, the man chanced a glance upwards.

Only cold blackness stared down at him; the smog of this city blanketing out even the brightest of stars up above. Once he got into the backseat of the car, stating crisply where he liked to be taken the cabbie pulled away from the curb, spilling out into the street with the other civilians of this city he loved so much. This home of his, and one day they would know Oswald Cobblepot's name. More than once the cab driver attempted to start a conversation with him; though Oswald wanted to be alone with his thoughts. "Shut up and drive. I'm not paying you to talk." the raven haired man grumped. Thankfully it was late. The normals were sleeping, the criminals were counting their spoils of the day and the lonely-hearts and party-seekers were heading home, winding down. Traffic was non-existent. Finally the eyesore of a taxi pulled in front of the G.C.P.D and throwing him a wad of cash, Oswald stumbled out of the car finding his lamed leg bothering him greatly at this point. As he hobbled towards the step, a few people around him snickering though the man acted as if he couldn't hear it. It was as if he could smell the corruption oozing out of that building, tainting all who walked through it's doors. Except maybe Jim Gordon; which was why it was so nice to have him owe Oswald favors.

Opening the door he was greeted by eyerolls. "Looks like Mr. Penguin found his way back here." One cop, bolder than the rest shouted. This did cause Oswald to tense, emerald eyes burning with a fire that could of scalded. "Hello fine gentlemen. I'm looking fo-" Thunderous steps approached and a hand roughly grabbed the back of his neck with an iron grip. "Well well, if it isn't Jim's snitch. What are you doing here Cobblepot?" Bullocks was friendly as ever and Oswald managed to wrench himself from Harvey's grasp with a fierce glare. "Shall we sit?" Without giving Harvey a choice he began making his way to the desks, and sitting down in the closet open seat to Harvey. "What the hell do you want this time? Jim's busy and I sure as hell ain't him. I will throw you out on your ass Cobblepot. Don't care who the fuck you work for." Harvey snarled, ferocity broiling beneath his voice with a venom that made Oswald chuckle darkly. "The newest nightclub shooting. Obviously I have some self-interest in that. Do you have any leads?" At this Harvey barked a short peal of laughter. "You got some balls Penguin. And if I do?" It made Oswald grit his teeth with resolve as he mumbled "I would owe you a favor Harvey."

Nothing in this world came for free and Oswald was all too aware of that. "Ah, well lucky for you I don't have any information. The only survivor that's not in critical condition is in shock or something. Can hardly form a coherent sentence. So I left Jim in there with her. He has a way with witnesses." Harvey sounded almost proud of himself that he'd shirked work off onto his partner. Opening his mouth to thank him for absolutely wasting his time Oswald was about to get to his feet when the doors banged open and an officer came in pretty much dragging a woman. Now Oswald wasn't normally one to notice the opposite sex, though when his yes fell onto the woman still trying to wrench her arm away from the cop he felt his heart stutter for a moment and his mouth dry. She was beautiful, slender, narrow face with large stunning eyes colored the deepest shades of hazel. Her hair was short, choppy almost that made her look far more matured in his opinion. Oswald was instantly intrigued.

Perhaps his trip down here hadn't been an absolute waste after all. Turning around to find Harvey gone he figured there was nothing much left for him; though the nagging feeling to try to impress this girl washed over him. With a bolstered confidence the peculiar man made his way over once she'd been handcuffed to Alvarez's desk; the cop who'd brought her having disappeared to do paperwork. She seemed fierce, fiery and Oswald's thin lips turned upwards into a grin as he approached her, clearing his throat to gain her attention. "So, how does a fine lady such as yourself find your place in a place so rotten as this?" Not knowing what else to say he delved right into conversation; though at the confusion on her face Oswald chuckled. "Oswald Cobblepot, at your service. You are?" There was that intrigue to at least talk to this woman who acted as if this wasn't her first time at the G.C.P.D.

//Aaaah I'm so horrible at starters >.< sorry for the shit post haha.

For as long as Frankie could remember, she's been running from the G.C.P.D and from the coppers of Gotham. Her rebellious attitude started when she was abandoned on the street in her childhood days, and has become quite the icon in the streets of Gotham. Burglary, arson, breaking the peace, the lot. The street kids looked up to her, no matter how screwed up she seemed in the head.. She brought them food, so they couldn't really complain.

So, when she heard the sirens closing in, she panicked. In the back alley, she had a guy cornered. In order to get his money, she started to threaten and intimidate him. Throwing a punch, when the man reached into his belt to get something, Frankie felt her heart stop. She saw a black object, with a trigger and a golden rimmed outline. With his own gun, she shot him in the foot leaving him crying and wailing in pain. It was all an accident, as he pulled out the gun. A girls gotta do what a girls gotta do to keep alive.

She couldn't believe, for the fifth time in the space of a month, she was being dragged into the station. Normally Gordon, or rather 'Jimbo' as she called him, would take her in. It surprised her when someone else dragged her in. There must be a really high priority case at hand.

Maybe they'd be too busy to notice if she slipped out.

Of course, once she was cuffed to the desk, she let out a groan. "You bloody ass wipe! If you don't let me go, I swear to god you'll regret it!" Once the man gave her no response, a low sigh passed her lips, and she cast her gaze down to her worn-out sneakers. Of course, upon seeing a pair of rather sophisticated shoes in her vision, she looked up instantly.

Call Frankie weird, but she always had a small thing for the weird guys. She hated the normal hunky man with a jawline that could kill - no, part of the reason she stayed in Gotham were for their peculiar males. Her eyes traced over his facial features, and she couldn't help but smirk once she met his eyes.

"Fine lady?" Raising a quizzical amused brow, Frankie tugged at her cuffed hand slightly. "Well, ur, hi Oswald. I'm Francesca Lawrence. Depending on my mood, I might allow you to call me Frankie." With a small smile, Frankie chewed on her bottom lip, looking at the desk. "Damn, how much will the bail be this time..?" Mumbling to no-one in particular, she shook her head with a disappointed sigh

---

Jim Gordon || The Good Cop


Jim was assigned to look after Arbor, and to get her statement. However, unlike Harvey, Jim wasn't blunt. He knew the Captain wanted a statement, but he wasn't going to rush Arbor in case of false information is said because of nerves.

"Miss Burwick, we need a statement. Anything at all, even if it is something small. We can track down who did this, but we need your co-operation. Unlike my partner, Harvey, I'm patient. You can take all the time you need. Do you need a drink, Miss Burwick?"

Jim's face was calm, collection, and relaxed. How he stayed relaxed in cases like these, he didn't know - but when there was a pretty woman involved, he knew he had to make an impression. Arbor looked beautiful. Radiant. Despite the small cut on her lip with dried blood surrounding the small wound, Jim saw that under her scared and frightened aura there was a beautiful, sweet woman. He really shouldn't be thinking this, but he hadn't seen a woman this pretty in a long time. After all, a man can dream, right?

//it's okay!! as an fyi i changed Frankie's FC and I apologize for the short one for Jim\\

Arbor Burwick | The Survivor



She couldn't stand still, Arbor's eyes were glued ahead of her while her hands shook and knee jumped. She flinched when the older cop bustled out of the room, nervously wetting her dry lips. Miss Burwick, we need a statement. Anything at all, even if it is something small. We can track down who did this, but we need your co-operation. Unlike my partner, Harvey, I'm patient. You can take all the time you need. Do you need a drink, Miss Burwick?" He was still quiet, soft like he was trying to be purposely soothing. For a moment she said nothing, taking a few shaky breaths while she stared at her hands for a few moments. "I- I heard names." She admitted with a whispery breath. Oh god she'd never forget that. The raucous buzzing of the florescent lighting was beginning to give her a headache; but it was something for her to focus on. "I was sitting with my friend when I heard shots outside. I- I didn't have time to warn anybody. They walked right by me. They-" The more she spoke, the more Arbor's voice broke with panic.

Taking a breather the woman's jaw clenched as she steeled herself. If this cop promised they could find who'd done this she needed to be strong. "I hid behind the bar when I thought they wouldn't notice. It's... It's hazy but I think, I think I heard names." At this the terror that had crept into the brunettes voice. "I'm sorry, I could I get a drink?" She wasn't thirsty by any means. But an ungodly cold had crept into what felt like the very marrow of her bones. Having this man, Jim if she recalled, go and get her a cup of coffee would not only give her a moment to just breathe, but also the coffee would help her warm up. "Of course." Jim promised, getting to his feet while motioning to the door. "I'll be right back alright? Sit tight." As if she could waltz out of the precinct under the eyes of thirty cops. Instead once the kind, soft-spoken man disappeared to get Arbor some coffee she completely crumbled .

The face in arms, shoulder shaking with quiet tears kind of breaking down. It was something she didn't want him to see, no Arbor hated appearing anything less than strong in front of people she didn't know. Hell she had trouble letting her sorrows show around those she did know. It wasn't logical but Arbor just felt like she should of done something. Just because she was sitting in a police station where half the force were no better than the thugs on the street, didn't mean that Arbor felt safe. The only thing that pulled her out of the moment of weakness was her cellphone ringing in the small clutch purse she'd somehow miraculously managed to hang onto. By the third ring she was wiping tears out of those golden and green orbs and taking a few deep breaths to sound a little steadier. "Hello?" She sounded exhausted, but not like she'd been sobbing into her arms. On the other line a noise that sounded a gasp and a shriek made Arbor wince. "Thank god. I got home from shift and I saw the news- and where are you?! Are you okay? I heard there was a club shooting and I know you and Elle like to go out on Fridays."

Typical of her overbearing sister Layla, she began firing off questions. "I was there. I... I don't think many people survived. E...Elle didn't." For a moment there was silence and Arbor glanced up at the ceiling just managing to hold herself together by sheer will. "Sweetie! I am so sorry. Come to my place, Johhny's gone off for the fishing season. Peter'll behave and he loves his auntie you know." Layla wasted no time in trying to convince Arbor to move in with her for awhile. "No, I couldn't impose like that. Besides I like my place." She murmured her argument for moving in. Layla, Arbor's brother-in-law, and her nephew were all nice people. But Arbor knew that they'd all walk around her on eggshells and in the back of her mind the slender brunette it would be better to just keep going about her regular schedule. "Well.. If you insist Arbor. Just know that you are always welcome here." The two girls had always been close growing up, hell the whole family was tight-knit. However, it was just too much to listen to the pity in her sister's voice. "I'm giving a statement to the cops okay? I gotta go. Love you give Petey a hug for me." With that, before her sister could question what was going on, Arbor hung up and pocketed her phone once again. There was still no sign of the cop, and looking down at the metal table which showed a distorted reflection of her face; Arbor winced.

Her face was bruised, and she vaguely remembering slamming it against the bar when she tried to hide. Lips normally plush and red, were now split and blood was dribbled on her chin. Making a noise under her breath Arbor delicately wiped what she could off. Looking a little more presentable it wasn't too long after that did the door swing open, revealing the gentle man with a steam cup of coffee. Her hands still shook though otherwise she was still, looking more composed. As it was placed in front of her Arbor looked up with him with large hazel eyes, a small smile touched on her busted lip. "Thank you." For a few moments she just took small sips, regaining herself and trying to sort out what had happened in her head. "My friend I and we decided to go out. She wanted to cheer me up, bad break up and all that a few weeks ago. Said there was a new club and so we went. Nothing remarkable happened until it was about closing time. I had a few drinks, so everything is a little blurry. But I remember hearing gunshots outside. I was about to tell Eloise so we could slip out the back just in case, but these two men burst into the club. They mowed pretty much everyone down. I- I thought that I wasn't gonna get to see tomorrow. I didn't see their faces because I was hiding, but they sounded muffled like they masks on anyway. They aren't done though. After they were done shooting people, one guy mentioned they were targetting places they saw as sinful. Corrupted. Mentioned the police department." She took a breath there, and unable to look at the man stared down at her coffee. "I got their first names. Nick and Greg."

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Oswald Cobblepot | The King



Normally women treated Oswald like the plague. If it wasn't his odd disposition, it was the limp of the leg that Mooney had lamed. Or of course the fact he resembled a penguin. Overall women thought him funny-looking and odd. But when this woman lifted her head to look up at him he saw no disgust in her eye's and for the slightest moment Oswald Cobblepot was thrown off-guard. She was amused with being called a fine lady, and out of sheer nerves Oswald smiled down at her, looking around. Jim was still nowhere to be seen and apparently wanting to shirk as much work as possible before the captain got up his ass about it. "Well, ur, hi Oswald. I'm Francesca Lawrence. Depending on my mood, I might allow you to call me Frankie." At this a devilish grin turned his lips upwards as he motioned to the chair open next to her. "May I?" Giving a careless shrug Oswald sunk down, his leg throbbing with relief of having the pressure taken off it.

Wordlessly he frowned at the mention of bail and once again that need to impress her surged in his blood. "If I may be so bold to suggest, Francesca- my help?" At this her brows furrowed together, as Oswald continued onwards, talking underneath the din of the damned police department. "I have a few... Connections here." He was careful not to make her invalid, like she was helpless on her own as Oswald was quite sure that she could easily put a bullet through a man's eyes without losing sleep over it, if it was necessary. Around them cops bustled back and forth, and the original reason of Oswald's visit began to sink to the back of his mind. She looked skeptical of him for a moment and Oswald didn't blame her. He had shown up out of the blue and had begun talking to her as if they were old friend. And, by the looks of her not that it detoured him in thinking she was beautiful in the least, Oswald figured she was one of those adults who had grown up on Gotham's streets. And if that was the case, she must have an inkling of who he was. Who Oswald worked for and the brutality that he was capable of. Luckily for Francesca, she intrigued Oswald. He wanted to get to know her and alright, perhaps he felt that she was attractive. His eyes scanned the room for any sign of Jim.

As long as she didn't murder anyone Oswald could probably get her off bail. And if not, it wasn't that hard to pick handcuffs. "Whatever did you do to end up handcuffed to a desk?" It would be good to know what exactly she had done so Oswald knew how big of a favor he was cashing into Jim. Speaking of the devil, he noted the man exiting the hallway which led to the interrogation rooms. "If you'll excuse me, I'll be back." Oswald promised before staggering to his feet, his face nearly contorting with pain as he began to limp towards the good-hearted cop. "Jim! What a pleasure to see you." Oswald called as he approached, watching Jim pour coffee into a cup. Almost instantly Jim's shoulders tensed with distaste as he slowly turned around; exhaustion written in his eyes. "I hear you have one of the shooter's survivors in that room. Do wish her well for me. Also I'm cashing in a favor. See that woman over there, she'll be walking out when I do." He tried to sound more confident than he felt ordering around Jim Gordan. "She's not really done anything, just a bit of a trouble-maker. Tell Alvarez to lay off. Besides don't you need more attention focused on the shootings. Third one in a month. Speaking of which what are your leads? Naturally I'm very curious as I own a fine establishment that may be peril."

It was true, if something happened to that nightclub Falcone would be pissed. And Oswald decided to voice that while Jim struggled to get a word in edgewise. "My main reason of curiosity of your leads so far, is of course Don Falcone would be... Unpleased if something happened to the club." Smiling, his face rendered rather innocent looking though Oswald was anything but. He was beginning to grow antsy. Really he just wanted to get home, prepare for the next day and possibly manage to be able to help the damsel in the distress he'd left a few feet back, still cuffed to the desk. "Come on Jim. I give you information, you give me some. I found you Foxglove! I gave you the Ogre." Oswald's voice had taken on a rather plaintive and aggravated tone. It wasn't that he disliked Jim Gordan, quite the opposite but it really annoyed him that the policeman seemed to care very little about him, about the friendship that he'd offered. While Oswald had done absolutely nothing to him.

Frankie Lawrence || The Rebel


The more times she repeated his name in her head, the more it sounded familiar. Oswald Cobblepot... Who was he? Someone important. Why was he offering to help her? God knows. When she saw the limp, a small frown came upon his features. Did he always walk like that? Is his knee busted?

Many thoughts circled her head, as she saw him talking to Jim. Seeing the cop look towards her, she instantly averted her eyes, whistling a soft melody silently. However, having a skilled ear, she couldn't help but pick up on the conversation between the two males. Many things sparked her interest, but Frankie tried her best not to eavesdrop. Her gaze went back to the two, her head tilted slightly to right observing Oswald.

Frankie had a feeling he didn't get much positive interactions with people, especially with a female. He seemed like the type of guy people would just disregard as a piece of trash. For some reason, Frankie felt bad for Oswald. He seemed like a fine, sophisticated gentleman - but she had an instinct that he never was able to keep someone's attention for long.

Of course, he had her attention. He sure was quirky - and Frankie liked that. Better than average, normal men like Jim. While Jim seemed slightly more toned than Oswald, she could tell that Oswald just needed a bit of support and positive things in his life.

With her free hand, she placed her head into her hand, her elbow on the desk in order to support her head. Frankie always daydreamed, it was a bad habit of hers - but she couldn't help it. Before long, Frankie began to wonder what Oswald has done, or what he is doing with his life.

---

Jim Gordon || The Good Cop


Hearing a voice, he looked over his shoulder to see Oswald. Great... Hearing what the other male had to say, Jim raised a quizzical brow and kept his lips in a tight line. Oswald was talking about the girl cuffed to Alvartez's desk, right? Looking over at her, he recognized her. Arson, burglary... Too many charges too count. With a sigh, Jim looked back at Oswald.

"Once the statement from the survivor is fully done I will think about relaying some information to you. As for your business... I suggest you install CCTV cameras and only call us if it's urgent. Oh, and please can you take Miss Lawrence and make sure she stays somewhere where she can't cause trouble? If you keep her out of the G.C.P.D and out of trouble for a few weeks - I'll make sure you know more about the case."

And with that, Jim turned his back on Oswald, with the coffee still in his hand. "Alvartez! Free Miss Lawrence from the cuffs."

Now, back to business. Walking back into the room where Arbor was, he settled the coffee down beside her. Listening to her talk, a small smile graced Jim's features.

"This is good information, you are really helping us... Would you feel more comfortable with Arbor or Miss Bunwick? I'll tell my colleages to look into the files for anyone with the name 'Greg' or 'Nick'.. Did you know if they were wearing masks?"

Jim thought logically that, if they did have a mask on, he could trace the local mask shop's records as to who they sold what to. That could lead them onto Greg and Nick.

"Thank you very much for you cooperation.. Now, because we have to take in account everyone's safety, we will have a cop escort you home for your protection.. Would you like me to take you home?"