Bruce's breathing trembled as he stared at the glowing candle in front of him. His need to conquer fear and explore pain was too great to ignore. Slightly rolling up the sleeve of his sweater, he brought the palm of his hand closer and closer to the flame. He could feel the heat rising into the air and touching his palm, but even that warning sign didn't deter him. As he brought his hand down, he winced as it burned his skin, burning a hole that grew larger the longer he kept his hand there. He bit the inside of his lip, trying to hold back the inevitable cry of pain that would escape when he couldn't take it anymore. Suddenly, footsteps approached the library and Bruce quickly snapped out of it, hiding his hand behind his back and hoping Alfred wouldn't see.

"Ah, there you are. Been all over the bloody house looking for you," Alfred sighed with relief. "I-I'm sorry I worried you," Bruce stammered, his burnt hand still aching from the pain he inflicted. Alfred noticed Bruce's hand behind his back and stepped closer to him. "What have you been doing?" He questioned. "Nothing," Bruce answered. Alfred could smell the sense of guilt from a mile away. "You, my old son, are a terrible liar. What have you got there?" Bruce stepped away, terrified of what Alfred would think once he made the discovery. "Come on, show me,"

Slowly, Bruce revealed the blistering red mark on his palm, and Alfred's eyes widened, and he became angry with himself for allowing this to happen under his nose. It was his job to protect and care for Bruce, and he neglected to keep him safe. "Oh my god, you stupid little boy!" Alfred exclaimed, grabbing Bruce by his sweater with such roughness he started shaking again. Seeing this made the butler feel guilty, and he pulled Bruce into his arms, assuring him that everything would be okay. 

"How about we go fix that up, yeah?" Alfred suggested. Slowly Bruce nodded, and Alfred led him into the nearby bathroom and fixed his wound.

~~~~~~~

It was approaching 10:30 that night, and as Holly and Barbara ran out to the store to grab a few odds and ends for tomorrow's dinner, Holly could feel a sense of unease, particularly because of where the shop was located. Why they didn't go somewhere that was more populated, she didn't know. All she could do was hope nothing would happen to them. As the first week in Gotham proved, nothing good happened after dark. She watched her mother scan every shelf, looking for the right spice, but no matter how many tiny plastic bottles she picked up, Barbara never seemed to find the right one. 

Holly looked around cautiously like she was waiting for someone to pop out of hiding and frighten them. Though she put on a brave face, she tightened her grip on her mother's hand and she took notice of this. "Just another minute, Hols," She whispered. A lot could happen in a minute, but Holly suppressed those thoughts to the back of her mind as her mother finally found what she was looking for, and they paid for their stuff. The unease only lingered as they stepped onto the murky and wet streets. Under the faint glow of the streetlights, she could see homeless men and women bundled in blankets, holding up signs that either asked for money or "Will work for food,"

She couldn't help but feel a pang of pity, not being able to imagine what it would be like to worry if they'd get their day's meal by a good Samaritan. Barbara gasped as the bag she was carrying ripped a hole, and one of the spices fell onto the ground. Holly quickly reached down to grab it, but as she went to stand up again, she saw the bright headlights of a van seemingly driving toward them. She and Barbara quickly crossed the rest of the street, only to see the van stop in front of a few teenagers standing around a trashcan fire.

Curiously, they both poked their heads out to see what was happening. A man and a woman stepped out of the van; the man was carrying a basket as they approached the children. "Hi, I'm Patti. This is Doug," The woman with pulled-back hair and glasses spoke. "We're from the mayor's homeless outreach project. We have some sandwiches and soup," "We've got cookies, candy. Who here likes chocolate?" Doug questioned. Three of the four teenagers walked towards them and took food out of the basket. But Holly noticed the fourth teenager looked a bit skeptical. As Holly looked toward her mother, she could see a sense of unease on her face.

"Holly, we shouldn't stay here. It's not safe," Barbara whispered. But just as they were about to turn and leave, Holly caught the faint gleam of something metal. Only then did she realize that when one of the teenagers hit the ground, she saw a needle clutched in Patti's fist. She proceeded to do the same with the second teen while the third struggled to fight her off. As the teen began to limp away, Patti and Doug started chasing him but were intercepted by a nearby homeless man, but Doug was quick to shoot him dead. "Run! I'm right behind you!" Barbara grabbed her daughter's hand and followed close behind as Holly ran to the car about thirty feet away.

Barbara fumbled with the keys as she struggled to unlock the car doors, Holly could only tell her mother to hurry up as she feared one of the kidnappers had heard their frantic footsteps and was coming after them next. She pulled on the car door handle, hoping by some miracle if she pulled it just hard enough, it would open. The door unlocking had been their greatest relief as they piled in, the mother and daughter's hearts pounding as they sped down the road. "Call your father!" Barbara reached into her purse and handed Holly her phone as she continued driving.

Holly could barely type in her dad's number as her hands trembled intensely. Pick up, Dad. Please pick up... Holly chanted as the line trilled. After the third ring, Jim picked up. "Barbara, is everything okay?" he asked. "Dad, it's Holly. We're on our way home, but something happened," Holly swallowed the lump forming in her throat. "What's going on?" "Some kids have just been kidnapped! And someone was shot!" Holly tried to keep her composure, but watching those kids get taken replayed in her mind like a broken record.

Jim's heart sank as he feared for his fiancée and daughter's lives, but he stayed composed as he asked his daughter where it happened. Holly could only look over to her mother, and she put the call on speakerphone. "Hols, where did it happen?" Jim repeated. "It happened near that restaurant... erm, Chez Vous, I think it's called that," Barbara spoke up. "I'll be over there with backup. Just get home safe, okay?" He sighed. Holly and Barbara both promised they would before the call ended. The second they arrived outside their building, they rushed up the stairs and into their apartment, holding each other close the second they locked the door.

"It's okay... I've got you," Barbara whispered. "I hope Dad can help those kids," Holly muffled into her mother's chest. "I hope so too..." Barbara trailed off. 

~~~~~~~~

As night turned into day, Jim remained at the scene where the murder and kidnappings happened, inspecting the homeless man who had been shot to death, trying to protect the children. Underneath the man's jacket was a familiar silver chain around his neck, something Jim saw so many times while in the army. He reached into his pocket, pulling out the pen he carried around whether he was on duty or not, and lifted the chain to reveal that the homeless man was once a veteran. 

"Hey, I got you one, but I dropped it," Bullock said as he approached with his cup of coffee. "Yeah, thanks. Where is everybody? They should've been here hours ago," Jim questioned. "I don't know," Harvey shrugged before sipping from the plastic cup. "What do you think?" Jim asked. "I think it's been a long shift. We give this bum three hours, then we knock off," Harvey responded. The chirping of police sirens came from behind them, and they looked over to see one of their colleagues finally showed up. "This guy was a war vet," Jim spoke softly, almost speaking under his breath.

"And I salute his service, now he's a dead bum. People are shooting bums all the time. We might as well be looking for the tooth fairy," Bullock replied. "Hey guys," the other cop spoke, shutting the police car's door. "How come you weren't here?" Jim questioned. "Well, good morning to you, too," Officer Bo looked surprised to see Jim's grumpy mood. Jim felt like nobody was taking this case seriously. Others may not care about what happens to homeless people, but when it came to children forced to fend for themselves, it hit Jim differently. "Where were you?" Jim repeated, his question ending this time with a slight snarl.

"At a restaurant down the street, Chez Vous. They had some homeless junkie kid, who fell through their front window last night. I've been taking care of that," Officer Bo explained. "This is a murder. You're a first responder, you're supposed to preserve the integrity of the crime scene!" Jim sighed. "Jim's got a point," Harvey looked towards Bo. "Well, the restaurant pays me 50 a month to look out for them. So, I'm supposed to sit here and babysit a dead wino? I've got a family!" Bo scoffed. "Do you know why the kid jumped through the window?" Jim inquired.

"Who knows? He was high," Bo suggested. "Did you ask him, or did you stand there and do nothing?" Jim hesitated, wanting to say more, but he stopped himself. "Why am I the bad guy here, and why are you asking me all these questions?" Bo looked concerned. "I'm asking about the kid because he might be related to the victim! And you're not a bad guy, you're just a bad cop," "Who do you think you're talking to, Jim?!" Bo's anger reached its peak. And as the two men looked like they were about to fight each other, Bullock stepped in between them, trying to calmly break up the fight. But all his calmness flew out the window when he dropped his coffee, and spilled it all over the ground.

"HEY! Now listen here, you two bickering like children is not gonna solve anything! Bo, shut up and do your damn job! And Jim, cool it with the questions, this isn't some interrogation. Not yet, anyway. Just cool your jets, and let's talk with this kid. Are we clear on that?" Bullock snapped. Jim and Bo went silent, backing down from their almost fight, and nodded their heads. "Good," Bullock sighed as he bent down to pick up the cup of wasted coffee.

~~~~~~~~

When they all returned to the GCPD, Jim and Bullock stood as they listened to the kid, Mackie explained what happened during the luring and kidnappings. And from what Holly and Barbara briefly described, it seemed to match perfectly. "And then Zeb and Smoke went right down, and that's when that wacky dude shot Soldier. That's when I realized I had to get out of there. So I ran, and I ran, and that's how I ended up on the floor of that restaurant!"

Jim squinted as he remembered Holly describing what the woman used to knock them out, remembering it was a needle or something that looked like one. "She used a pin? Are you sure it wasn't a needle?" he asked. "I swear, it was a big pin! This is not the first time! Street kids have been disappearing for weeks now by the dozens! No one knows why!" Mackie explained. "This is the first we heard about it," Harvey told him. "Why would you? Nobody gives a crap about us! I mean look! This is proof!"

Mackie turned around and attempted to show where the woman tried to stab him at the base of his neck, but Bullock was having none of it. "That's not proof! That is a scab! Now listen, Mackie. We're grown-ups! We're smarter than you," Bullock hissed. "Whatever!" Mackie scoffed and shook his head. "So you're gonna tell me the truth! It was you, wasn't it? It was you who killed that poor old man. Now, you're gonna tell me the truth or I swear, I'm gonna beat it out of you. THAT OLD MAN WAS A WAR VETERAN!" Bullock shouted.

"Listen, Cat was there! She saw the whole thing, ask Cat!" Macky swore, hoping to save himself from any more danger than he had already been in. Seeing the fear and worry on his face, Jim had no choice but to step in and pull his partner to the side. " Relax, no one's gonna beat you. Who's Cat?" Jim asked. "What do you mean, no one's gonna beat him? Isn't that what I just said I was gonna do right now, just now? I was gonna beat him?" Bullock shook his head at Jim. "You come over here!" Jim grabbed his partner by the arm and pulled him out of earshot of the frightened Mackie.

"He is 16!" Jim reminded him. "Yeah, and six-foot, 220. He can take a punch!" Bullock rolled his eyes as Jim gave him a look that silently asked, That's really your excuse? "Look, I wasn't gonna beat him. I just wanted to scare him. But if I did want to beat him, I could! It would be my prerogative," Bullock attempted to justify. "It's illegal. You can't just threaten to beat up a minor!" "How now so righteous? Hmm? Not long since you put a man in the river!" Bullock said, his voice a little higher and drawing the attention of people walking by them.

Luckily, no one said anything, or maybe they didn't hear Bullock correctly. Whichever it was, it made Jim look around subtly, not wanting to draw any attention to the fact that he actually spared Oswald's life instead of killing him. "You want to say that a little louder? Not everybody heard," He spoke rhetorically. "Ever since then, you've been a royal pain in the ass. Do you think I or anybody around here gives a crap about a dead snitch or your guilty conscience? We got our own problems!" Bullock spoke softer but with an extra dosage of rage.

"Guilty conscience, call it what you want. I'm gonna do what's right!" Jim defended. "You're beginning to irritate me..." Bullock growled, grabbing Jim's suit and balling it in his fists. "Take your hands off me..." Jim warned before shoving Bullock back. His partner stumbled back, stepping on the foot of one of their colleagues sitting at their desk. "Hey! Watch the shoes, clown!" He shouted. Bullock, his ball of inner rage just as bright as ever, kicked the colleague right where the sun didn't shine, and he fell onto the ground, clutching his crotch.

Jim glared at Bullock as he brushed himself off, claiming his shift was over and there was nothing Jim could do to reprimand him. But even if Jim didn't have that authority, someone else did. "Bullock! Gordon! A word in my office," Captain Essen pulled both of them to the side. As much as they were acting like kids, she had the common decency not to embarrass them in front of everyone. Seeing the seriousness in her eyes, both men knew she was not playing around, and they followed into her office, quiet as mice.

"He's saying he has a right to stop me from beating on a mope!" Bullock complained the moment Captain Essen sat at her desk. "Damn right, I do. He's a child, and even if he wasn't, that's still assault," Jim nodded. "See, Cap? How am I supposed to work with this?" Bullock questioned. "Look, Jim, it's not like I can order you to break the law, but this is Gotham. You don't bend, you'll get broke," Essen sighed. "I understand," Jim acknowledged. Essen leaned back in her seat, saying she thought he was with the program by now. She reminded him that he had been with the GCPD for the past two weeks, and with everything going on between the power and crime wars, he had to know the dark side of Gotham by now.

"Rest assured, Captain. He is," Bullock responded, slightly calmer now. "Well, let's get back to work. Where are you at?" Essen inquired. "Well, if the boy we have is telling the truth, there's a couple of kidnappers out there abducting homeless children in numbers. They lured them close with a food truck from the mayor's Homeless Outreach Project. And they drug them with a jab from a big pin," Jim explained. "But my question is, Why would anyone want to abduct scraggly-ass orphans in bulk? I mean, where's the market? They're out on the street because no one wants them anyway. If they said they were snatching cute girls, I'd believe them. But what would anyone want with a lard-ass like Macky?"

Before Essen could respond to Bullock's point, out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone peering into her office, seemingly watching the conversation. "What is it, Ed?" She looked over, inviting him inside as he proudly held up a piece of paper. "Guess what I found. I did a blood test on him, and he had high levels of ATP," He grinned. "Now what's ATP? It's a fast-acting knockout drug. They used to use it at the old Arkham Asylum to bring down troublesome patients. It's hard to get. No recreational use,"

"Okay, that's interesting," Bullock nodded. Maybe this case wasn't a lost cause after all. "Is there anything else?" Essen asked Nygma. But he shook his head, the proud grin still lingering on his face. Essen thanked him, but he didn't seem to get the hint his presence was no longer required. She thanked him again, and this time he left the office. "Get to work. And keep this quiet. No press. Not a word," Essen returned her focus to Jim and Bullock. "Shouldn't we tell the public what's going on? Warn them?" Jim questioned, his protective fatherly instinct kicking in.

"No, it's department policy. We don't advertise this kind of stuff. Causes panic. The headlines will read "Gotham's Kids Snatched," Essen shook her head. "Which is true," Jim pointed out. "No press. That's an order. Follow up on the drug, the ATP, and the Arkham connection," Essen instructed. "But Arkham's been closed for like ten years!" Bullock stated.  "Try 15," Essen corrected.

 "Drug suppliers might still be in business. We should start from there," Jim spoke. As he and Bullock were about to walk out the door, Bullock stopped in his tracks, remembering they were on bad terms with Fish Mooney since these abductions had taken place on her turf, just like the Wayne Murders. "Hey Captain, this happened on Fish Mooney's turf. Do you want to see if it's safe for us to go back there, or is she still mad at us?" Bullock queried. "That's a good question," Essen replied.