The cool wind tugs at my coat and threatens to reveal my fluffy tail that I have safely hidden under the thick fabric. I yank it around my body and enter the precinct as quickly as I can, Jim close behind me. 

Everyone stares at us, or more likely at Jim because they don't know who I am. We saunter in like we don't have a care in the world and I smirk at them. I don't see Harvey anywhere. He's probably getting a danish or something.

I go and sit at Jim's desk as he goes into the Commissioner's office. Feeling the burn of people's gazes upon me, I growl and then slowly slide off the chair to the floor underneath the desk. I've created a comfortable den of sorts. The desk and railing provide a shield to protect me from their view. 

After about a half-hour, I start to doze off. I'm used to sleeping on the floor, so it isn't a challenge. While my eyes are closed, my ears are still open to the sounds of the precinct. Papers rustling, background chatter, and the opening and closing of doors. 

I sigh, enjoying the noise. Where I was for those two years, my ears could only feast on silence and screams. Most of the time the screams were my own. 

I hear footfalls coming through the open door as most other noises cease. They step with purpose and seemingly climb onto a table. 

"Hello everyone," a man's voice carries through the GCPD as every other sound diminishes. My wolf ears twitch at their familiarity and a shiver runs down my spine. 

I'd know that voice anywhere.

"My name...is Victor Zsasz. I'm sent here personally by Don Carmine Falcone himself on a matter of deep concern to him, so please be respectful. . . I'm here for Jim Gordon. Only him. Everyone else, mind your own business and we're cool."

After a short pause for dramatic purpose, he asks, "So, where's Jim at?"

I sneer. Even though no one says anything, I can hear their heads turning to the Commissioner's office. The tension in the room builds, causing the hairs on the back of my neck to stand on end. 

"Thank you," Victor whispers, and I can imagine the smile on his face.

"HEY JIM!" He yells loudly. "Jiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiimmmm," he continues when the detective doesn't appear. 

I hear the click on an opening door and see Jim's shoes walk towards me. 

"Hi Jim," again, I can just picture his wide grin, "Relax, I'm supposed to take you in alive. Don Falcone wants to talk."

"Tell Falcone we'll talk, but not today," Jim orders, sounding unfazed in the presence of Gotham's best hitman.

"Don't be that way... Alive is a very broad category. A man with no hands can still be alive."

Jim, emboldened by his badge retorts, "There are fifty cops in here, try something." 

I imagine that Victor's smile is fading now.

 "Everybody out."

When no one moves at his demand, Zsasz yells, "PLEASE!?"

Suddenly, all that can be heard is the shuffling of feet as people hastily depart from the building. I scoff silently.

"Looks like it's just me and you now." 

The tension is so thick you should slit it with a knife. It makes my fur stand up and my heart rate quicken in anticipation.

I slam my hand on the desk as I emerge from my den. Eyes are on me as I say, "Or nah. You forgot little ol' me."

"Y/n, what are you doing?" Jim hisses at me. 

I roll my eyes, "Helping, duh."

"I'll give you one last chance to leave, since I'm feeling generous," Victor says, glaring at Jim and I.

"Vic, if you remember me at all, then you know I won't be leaving." I grin at him. 

I can see his mind working a mile a minute to try to figure out who I am. My lips twitch as I await his response. The women by his side, the Zsaszettes, look from me to him, clearly confused.

"C'mon, Vicky," I encourage him, a teasing smirk on my lips. 

His eyes snap back to me and he grins widely, "Y/n?"

"You know him?" Jim asks, peeved. 

I shrug, "Yeah, why?"

"Didn't think I'd see you again," Vic continues, twirling his weapon in his hand.

I pull out my own gun, "Yeah, we'll have to catch up sometime." Before anyone can say anything else, I shoot at one of the Zsaszettes. The bullet nicks her leg and then bullets start flying everywhere. 

Jim shoots at Vic as he backflips off the table in a brilliant display of his physical prowess. Jim and I flip a desk and cower behind it as shots are fired every which way in retaliation. Zsasz walks onto a different table and shoots rapidly at us. Glass shatters everywhere, falling on top of our heads. I shake my head to get the glass off my hood as I think about what to do next.

I fire back and motion for Jim to dash at the exit. He does and I cover him, but he still manages to get hit in the shoulder. Great Jim, just great.

Following after him, I fire at our assailants, hitting a Zsaszette in the head. I bark a laugh of victory as she drops to the floor. Though my victory is short-lived because Victor shoots me in the leg. Cursing, I continue to chase after Jim.

I limp down the stairs and make it to the parking garage. Jim is nowhere in sight, and I can feel my blood dripping down my leg. 

Muttering a few choice words, I head to where I think Jim isn't. He has a better chance if I'm not slowing him down. Besides, my blood trail would lead them right to him. 

I duck behind a cop car, slowing my breathing as the red in my vision starts to fade. Carefully, I place my hands over the bleeding hole in my leg. Then, I decide to hastily take off my coat and wrap it around my leg in a feeble attempt to stop the blood. 

It feels good to have my wolf ears and tail free from the confines of the coat but it's the first time they've been out in the open. I wonder what Vic will think about my changes?

The door opens.

I scarcely dare to breathe as delightful chills run across my skin. 

"Jiiiiim," Victor calls out and then whistles, "Jim?"

I spot Jim only a few cars away from me and slowly start making my way to him. 

As I reach him, Victor asks, "Why are you hiding from me, Jim?"

"Hey! What the-!" I hear someone shout, and then I hear two gun shots and a piercing scream. Using the distraction, Jim and I dash madly to the exit. 

Unluckily for us, we're both injured. Seeing as we're not too fast on our feet, Zsasz is easily able to shoot both of us again. 

He hits me in the shoulder before his other bullet hits Jim. I drop to the cold cement, winded. White-hot pain eats away at my leg and now my shoulder. My tail trashes in agony and anger. 

I hate losing. 

Jim is able to make it farther than I did, which actually makes me smile a bit, until he collapses as well. 

Groaning, I relax my body, seeing sparks as I adjust my position. This is embarrassing and exhausting. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be dead? 

Squealing tires interrupt my thoughts as a car pulls up to Jim and steals him away. More gunshots are sounded but I could care less. Bullets don't concern the dead. 

One last gunshot reverberates around the garage. Then silence and footfalls. He's walking towards me, I can tell even though I can't see him from where I lay face-first on the cold, hard ground. 

"Hey, Muffin," he greets me before slamming the butt of his gun against my head.

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