Guns & Whistles | Victor Zsasz

CHAPTER | 1 |

❝ Discretion Advised ❞

After closing the Sionis Investments investigation, the GCPD gets a new Sketch Artist, with an interesting work ethic.

────────────────────

A lure of sepia threads through the tension of lavender mist, sunk deep into the asphalt, as it does every nightfall. Leaving all who dwell in the city bereft of their wits, once again restored. And soiled streets wet with grief, are washed away; flooded by the dawn.

The smoggy cityscape flashes by outside the windows, each turn causing the armrest to be gripped a little tighter. Other passengers, their heads drooping and bobbing along with the bus. Match struck eyes keep an anxious watch on the flashing street signs, taunting their soot with their bright colors and bold fonts.

The sun's scornful face finally peeks over the passing buildings. Jovie raises her free hand to shield her eyes, but it's too late. A bright glare pierces through the dirty glass, sending a sharp jolt right through her. Burn the past few months' strain ever further in the dark hollows of her eyes.

Jovie had journeyed to many parts of the country, but nothing could have prepared her for the cesspool of depravity that was New Jersey. The reputation of this area preceded it, as a poster child for corruption and crime in American cities. It was a nightmare built of metal and stone, expertly crafted to deceive its residents. Jovie couldn't shake the feeling that this place was void of time, too familiar with its troubled past while reflecting every sense of its uncertain future.

Even in the thick of summer, the city was lifeless, the oppressive heat doing nothing to thaw the cold and unwelcoming. Jovie couldn't shake the eerie feeling as she spotted the sign for "Old Gotham" territory.

With a deep breath, she tugged on the wire cord to signal her stop and picked up her briefcase.

A narrow, poorly-maintained road divides the space between the looming historical district - black with coal and old as time.

Overshadowed by the shining glass constructs of New Gotham, which seems to remain as the sheer sparkling drop of a new mint coin to the muddy water of the city's very docks. Jovie's heels clicked and clacked across the grimy sidewalks, her eyes darting from one dark alleyway to the next.

Iron gates lay partially open, leading to office buildings where the wealthy elite would scurry about their business, blissfully unaware of the terrors that lurked beyond their barricaded doors. The occasional city tree providing a brief respite from the oppressive concrete jungle.

The precinct loomed ahead, perched high on a clearing, Its pillars and arched windows seemed to be watching her every move, and she couldn't shake the feeling of being exposed, vulnerable. The word "POLICE" emblazoned in bold letters, signaling the end of the line for those who dared to cross the line.

The stone stairs leading up to the entrance looked shallow in comparison to the grandeur of the building itself.

Jovie ascended the stairs with a sense of dread, each footfall a weight heavy upon her shoulders. The entranceway was quiet, save for the sound of her own breathing and the hum of the overhead lights. The air was thick with the stench of fear and despair, and she knew she was walking straight into the belly of the beast.