Masterstroke | The Dark Knight Trilogy

ONE - HARDCORE

My name is Nina Adelaide Carter. I'm a twenty-six-year-old detective who doesn't mince words.

Started out in Bludhaven PD's Crime Branch, where my unit became a legend, dismantling organized crime piece by piece. Transferred to New York, took down the Manhattan Mob, then came to Gotham, tired of desk duty. Today, I stormed out of the courtroom, fuming after hearing Crane plead for another Falcone goon.

I snapped at Rachel, suggesting she get her own shrink. "Dr. Crane," I called out, catching him as he left, "are you recruiting in Arkham now?" His stiff reaction confirmed my hunch. I made sure he knew I was onto him before slipping out of the building, only to bump into a guy in a red hood. "Sorry!" I muttered, barely catching his smooth response before he disappeared.

***

Hours of sifting through files and churning out reports had a way of numbing the thrill of the job. Fieldwork was where the action happened; the paperwork, less so.

Suddenly, Gordon burst out of his office, gun drawn. "Carter! With me!" he barked.

"On your six, Boss," I replied, grabbing my own weapon and sprinting after him.

We charged up the stairs to the rooftop. Gordon threw open the door and shouted, "Freeze!" I followed closely, eyes scanning for the target. There, in front of us, was a burly burglar in a sleek black suit, bounding across the rooftops, effortlessly scaling A/C units before leaping to the next building's fire escape.

"What the hell was that?" one of my colleagues asked, trailing behind us.

"Just some nut," Gordon answered dismissively.

I hoped that nut wouldn't turn into a persistent problem.

***

"Nina, why don't you head home?" Gordon said, pausing at my desk. "You could use some rest."

"So could you," I replied with a smile.

"Your shift ended two hours ago. Go," he insisted, handing me my cap.

"Alright, I'll head out. Call if you need anything," I said, rising and heading to the locker room.

Living in Gotham was risky, even for a cop. I hadn't been attacked yet, but the threat was always there. Falcone's thugs were especially untouchable. I lived a few miles from the station, not in the Narrows but still in a rough area. With my helmet in hand, I walked to City Hall to retrieve my Suzuki motorbike, parked in the underground lot.

As I neared the building, a hand snatched my wrist, yanking me into the shadows. I swung my helmet blindly, someone yelped, and I pulled out my gun. A second man pressed something cold to my head.

"Drop your gun!" he ordered.

I complied slowly, but a dark figure tackled his accomplice. With both guns trained on each other, I gave the man a choice. He fled, and I remarked, "Smart choice."

The dark figure approached, shrouded in shadows. I aimed my gun at him, but he remained still.

"Falcone sent them to kill you," he said.

"What did I do to deserve that?" I asked.

"You rattled his cage," he replied.

"Who are you?" I demanded.

"Someone like you," he said before vanishing into the night.

***

"Unacceptable." Commissioner Loeb's frustration echoed through the room. "I don't care if it's rival gangs, Guardian Angels, or the Salvation Army. Get them off the street and off the front page."

Spinelli quipped, "They say it was just one guy. Or a creature."

"It was some asshole in a costume," Loeb shot back.

Gordon raised his hand. "This guy did deliver us one of the city's biggest crime lords."

"So typical," I muttered, following Gordon into his office. "Falcone is behind bars thanks to Batman, and now he's a public enemy."

"That's not it," Gordon sighed. "They think he's dangerous."

"And Loeb just wants the credit," I retorted.

"That too," Gordon chuckled.