Smith got on the line with Gordon not long after the first call. "Jerome Valeska and the single female, they're getting out at Wesker and third. The other two are staying in the van. A cop car just caught up with us. What should we do?"
"Split up," ordered Jim without much thought at all. "Who knows the amount of damage Jerome Valeska can do there. Take the cops with you."
"Alright, I've let Miller know to follow the van and to keep you notified. I'll go after Jerome. Looks like he's headed for the Gotham Broadcasting station..." Muffled sounds of shifting ensued, like Smith's phone was placed into his pocket without the receiver being turned off. The sound of a car door being slammed shut. The engine revving and the car driving away. A gun getting cocked. And then the not too distant warning voice of Smith's, "Stop there! Take another step towards the station and be shot."
Jim continued to hold on to the line as he strained his ears to pick out what muffled dialogue followed. There seemed to be a rather lengthy exchange between both Jerome and the cops who'd stopped him in the street. The sound of visceral yelling erupted out of the blue, Jim couldn't tell who from. Two shots that rang through the air. Some shouting. A loud thud. More muffled dialogue and after the world went quiet on the other end, Smith's voice returned to the line. "I'm sorry sir. We've failed to apprehend Jerome Valeska. He tricked us... made us think he was going to be compliant, then he injected one of the cops with a red substance. It turned the cop mad. The guy tried to attack us - should I say he tried to claw at us."
"A red substance, you say?"
"Yeah. He left the syringe sticking out of the guy's throat. We had to wrestle the guy down, and this gave Jerome the opportunity to make his escape - which he did. And now he's disappeared into the station."
"Damn it..." cussed Gordon, though he wasn't exactly surprised. Jerome always did have those extra tricks up his sleeves. "Fine... follow him into the building, as far as you're able to. Keep me updated."
Jim could see another call waiting for him, it was flashing on line 2. He ended line 1 and switched over. It was Harper.
"Gordon, Bill and I managed to track down Bullock's phone. It's in a construction site belonging to Sionis' Design House - even though the building's like eighty percent up already. The doors weren't locked on entry. We found the phone in a room, all on its own. No Harvey here. There's nothing in this room, no furniture and the flooring's not even done. But there is a large wooden hatch on the floor, should we attempt to enter?"
"Yeah do that, but proceed with caution. Get Bill to go first, you back him up."
"Alright," she replied.
Line 3 was already blinking urgently. Gordon knew he'd be kept busy that day, but this was just one thing after the next. "I need to hang up now, Harper. Keep in touch."
"Will do."
He switched lines. He found Miller on Line 3.
"Detective, the van's stopped again in front of a blimp hangar. Johnathan Crane has exited, he's carrying a large box. Jervis Tetch is still inside the van, and he's about to move off. Who should I follow?"
Wiping a hand over his forehead, Jim debated the decision in his mind. He didn't want to lose either one of the two inmates, but he'd to choose.
"Sir, you'll have to decide quickly. Tetch is getting away already."
Jim hated the position he'd been put in. Just one of those getting away could prove disastrous. But the thought of Johnathan Crane with a large box of goodness-knows-what and given free reign over a blimp - that sounded like the more immediate danger. "Stay with Crane," he instructed. "Stop him by any means possible."
"Roger that sir," came Miller's voice. "Wish me luck!"
"Luck..." replied Jim flatly. The truth was he wished he was there himself, in Miller's place. But he knew he'd to have faith in the men under his charge. He'd never be able to be all places at once. Even though he hated waiting behind a desk for the phone to ring, it's the only shot at getting a few things done at one time.
He ended Line 3 and dialed the one final person who was left unaccounted for. Lucius Fox. The phone began to ring. Jim listened to the repeated tones, going over and over again. He wondered where Lucius could be. Last he'd heard, Lucius was headed for the Narrows, but he ought to have been back by then. No other lines were flashing then, so Jim decided to let Lucius' phone go on ringing. And it did... till the signal was suddenly cut off. Jim dialed him again, and this time, all he got was an error message from Lucius' service provider about the phone not being accessible. He didn't know what that meant for Lucius - if Harvey's disappearance wasn't enough...
"Hey Alvarez," he called over his colleague. Alvarez responded. "Can you try to ping Lucius' phone? We might have another missing agent."
It took five of the robed men to drag Waylon Jones up a cliff while he desperately struggled under his constraints. Lucius could tell that his energy was getting sapped by the end as he was struggling a lot less when they left him right at the edge - or perhaps he was merely afraid to fall. Lucius hadn't thought much of the croc-man, but now, he was the only potential friend he had in this entire affair.
The robed man who kept beside him since the tower, urged him to Waylon's side, instructed him to sit down, and two other men came to constrain him to Waylon's tangled chain net with two separate ropes. Lucius knew they were preparing him for his death, and logically, there'd be no reason to continue to be compliant. But he didn't think he'd a chance in hell to overpower this lot.
Coincidentally, his phone began to ring then. The men in robes perked up, and pointed to his pocket where his phone sat comfortably.
"Your friends are searching for you," said the man in the hood. "They don't know that you'll be dead soon."
Lucius didn't like that, he didn't like it at all. The truth was that he wasn't prepared to die, especially not in this manner - chained to a croc-man, at the edge of a cliff off the worst part of Gotham.
"Last chance," he offered. "Give me Bruce Wayne, and I may consider letting you go."
Beads of perspiration dripped off the side of Lucius' face. He knew Bruce's last known location was Gotham General, but he couldn't be sure if he was still there or if he'd left. He'd been reluctant to share even that, but he was close to caving.
As he considered his options, his gaze drifted over to Waylon. The man with the reptilian appearance stared back at him with a look of melancholy - the first sign of true human emotion from someone he wouldn't expect it from. He didn't know if the man could read his low opinion of being chained to him, but it sure felt that way.
"Choose now, before the world ends," said the man in the hood.
Ironically, something in those sad eyes gave him the determination to withhold what little he knew from the stranger. If the world was to end, why go out as a coward? He would keep his conscience clear down to the final second. "No," he said with newfound courage. "You won't get a thing out of me. You'll just have to find Bruce on your own."
Waylon's expression changed. He too seemed empowered by Lucius' sudden boldness. Both men turned to the man in the hood, who seemed a little more disappointed at these turn of events than they would've expected. "Toss them over," he instructed, turning away.
The phone still rang as the robed men pushed the both of them closer and closer to the edge. Lucius wedged his eyes shut, bracing himself for a painful end. He felt Waylon moving slightly, as though he was straining to look over the edge.
And all at once, gravity took over - the wind whistled swiftly through his ears and he felt the splash of salt water all around, encompassing them completely. The ringing stopped. For a moment, everything else stopped as they sunk like heavy stone.
Then Waylon began writhing through the chains. His struggle got more and more vicious - enough to jolt Lucius' eyes open. The croc-man had already managed to get his arms free, and was busy untangling his legs. But they were still sinking. Lucius looked up at the fading rays of light from the water's surface, what seemed an eternity away. The little oxygen in his lungs were threatening to disappear completely, and he thought about drowning. But Waylon Jones hadn't given up. In three ticks, his legs were free and he emerged from his constraints, leaving the weight of the chains and their attached ball bearings entirely attached to Lucius.
For a moment, the two men caught each other's glances - Lucius helpless and pleading for his life, Waylon, a free man, and considering going up to the surface for air. But that moment passed quickly, and Waylon swam downwards instead, tugging on the ropes that held Lucius down. They had been secured tightly. Holding the two ends of the rope, Waylon gnawed down on the fibers with his sharpened teeth. The ropes snapped in no time, and Waylon slipped an arm under Lucius' shoulders, swimming vertically upwards with speed unlike that of a regular man's, and broke through the surface with a huge splash.
The two men gasped for air as they looked above at the cliff from where they'd fallen. The robed men, and the man in the hood were gone, leaving them bobbing in the water all on their own. The two of them - they'd survived miraculously. "Those fools didn't know that I'm twice as strong underwater," explained Waylon, blinking reptilian eyes. "Indian Hill turned me into a freak, but this freak has just proved he can survive where no other man can."
For some reason, Lucius found that thought absolutely amusing. He burst out in laughter, feeling a surge of new joy, just for being alive. He gave Waylon a grateful pat on the shoulder. "You sure showed them!"
Waylon grinned proudly. "Now let's go back and ruin the plans of these twits."
"I'm with you a hundred percent."
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