Prince of Darkness ~ Gotham

~ Chapter Fourteen: Viper ~

When Bruce requested all those files pertaining to the Arkham plan, the young boy had not expected the large amount of paperwork and scraps his parents had hidden away. Alfred wasn't joking when he said there were piles and piles. They must've had an entire room inside the manor that Bruce had no idea about that contained all those documents. As the mission to find a connection between his parent's murders and the plan consumed his mind, Bruce spent most of his time in the library dedicated entirely to searching the files and pinning them up on corkboards.

"Fancy a stroll? It's a lovely day. Stretch the legs, breath of fresh air," Alfred suggested, eyeing Bruce as he stood on top of a wooden stool as he pinned his next piece. "I'm busy," Bruce declined. "I've got a question for you, Master Bruce. What if all this was a complete and utter bloody waste of time? What if you never discover who killed your mum and dad? Hmm? What if you never get to wreak revenge?" the butler questioned.

For the first time in the past 72 hours, Bruce finally looked away from his work and to his guardian. Usually, in the unfortunate circumstance someone loses their parents due to murder, the family would either want justice or revenge. But the latter was not something Bruce had his mind on at all. "I don't want revenge. I want to understand how it all works. How Gotham works," He explained. "Well, you'd have more chance digging to China with a teaspoon," Alfred commented.

But Bruce remained determined. There was an end to an investigation one way or another, and he would not rest until he found the answers. "Take the Arkham Project, for instance. How did the Falcone and Maroni crime families get such big shares in the deal? I know city hall is corrupt, but... why didn't Wayne Enterprises do something?" Bruce questioned. "Can you pass me that blue folder over there?" Alfred nodded, grabbing the file resting on the desk, and briefly flipped through the papers.

Well, I suppose as hobbies go, this is a damn sight better than grilling yourself like a bloody pork chop. Still, not particularly healthy, is it?" Alfred inquired, hoping to bring Bruce back to reality. But Bruce was so focused on his current task that he barely paid attention to Alfred's words. "Thank you," he said as Alfred handed him the folder. "Are you listening to me?" "Yeah, for sure. I'll take a walk later. Thank you, Alfred," Bruce returned to his work, leaving Alfred no other choice but to leave the room. He may not have gotten through to Bruce this time, but he continued to hold out hope.

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"Hey, it might look like the heel of a hobo's shoe. But still the best burgers in Midtown, huh, Ephraim?" Bullock chuckled as he and Jim stood outside of Harvey's favorite burger bar. "If you say so, but I will add the suburbs had some of the best chocolate malts," Jim spoke, having his doubts. "Then you, my friend, are in for a real surprise!" Harvey nudged him before turning back to the owner. "All right, I want two cheeseburgers. Uh, hold the sauce, extra pickles, two malted shakes," Harvey ordered, fishing out his wallet.

"No pickles on mine, please," Jim requested. "Oh, you got to trust me on this one, Jim!" Harvey shook his head. "Is that right? All right. Pickles. Bring 'em," Gordon caved in. But as the two detectives were busy getting their lunch, neither noticed a certain teenage thief was about to pickpocket a wealthy man just right behind them across the street. "All right, now, you wanna look good in a swimsuit like me come summertime, you're gonna want a lot of this and a lot of this, huh?" Bullock gestured to his food as they sat at the edge of the concrete sidewalk.