Detective | ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴛᴍᴀɴ

𝒇 𝒐 𝒖 𝒓 𝒕 𝒆 𝒆 𝒏

"Holy shit!" Jess cursed with her eyes bulging out the sockets of her face. Gil Colson, the DA, was in Penguins underground club, dripping death all over his face. In a way, she shouldn't be surprised. The first time she met him, he used to rub the hell out of his eyes like a crackhead rubs their nose. Jess couldn't grasp her newfound news; it felt as though everyone in Gotham City's law enforcement was as corrupt as the people she puts behind bars. "Gil Colson, you paranoid, greedy little fuck bag." She cursed with narrowed eyes.

Footsteps from behind her caught the detective's attention. She turned around to see her mother, hair wrapped in a silk scarf and the same black robe she's had since Jess was little. "Baby?" Martha asked. "It's late. What are you doing up?"

"Work." Jess smiled sheepishly.

Martha only chuckled, pulling out a seat. "You get that from your father."

A snort left Jess's lips. "I'm pretty sure I get it from you."

Martha was silent between the two, watching her daughter shuffle around paperwork. "Is he any good?" She suddenly blurted.

Jess snapped her gaze at her mother. "Who?"

"The prince of Gotham." Martha scratched the back of her neck nonchalantly. "Given that, you are wearing his shirt, and he hasn't left your side all day today."

"Mama!" Jess gasped in embarrassment. "That's so embarrassing."

Martha held her hands up in surrender. "What? I meant is he treating you good." 

Jess gave her mother a look, signaling she knew exactly what she meant. "It's complicated," Jess muttered. "He's hard to read, reclusive, and likes to be left alone."

"He sounds like you." Martha snorted, leaning her arms on the table. "But I can see the twinkle."

Jess rolled her eyes. The twinkle, the stupid story her mother used to tell her when she truly knew she met her soulmate. "Mama, that's a children's story."

"Now, when did you stop believing in the twinkle?" Martha gasped.

"When I realized that the world is a dark and cruel place." Jess held up a photo of Mrs. Mitchel's little boy. "This is what happens when you come home from trick or treating, only to find your father wrapped in duct tape." She placed the photo back onto the table with a huff.

Martha pursed her lips. She wanted to say something else and knock some sense into her daughter, but that wouldn't do anything. Jess's light died out a long time ago, or so she thought. "Well, let me help you out with some of this," Martha said, motioning to the many papers taking half the table hostage. "Two minds are better than one." Jess watched her mother shuffle some of the pictures, a crease forming on her forehead. Perturbed, she flipped an image around in her hand. "That's Gil Colson..." Jess answered. "Gotham's D.A."

"Where is this?"

Jess could see her mother's detective mode kicking in. "The Forty-nine Below. It's Penguin's inner circle from the inner circle." Jess poked the glossy page from behind with her pen. "From what I'm seeing, everyone who makes Gotham's justice system dirty goes here."