Everyone has bad days.
Marco let out a breath, thinking that statement had never been more goddamn accurate.
Outside the precinct, the three-way brawl was winding down. Through the window, he could see officers moving in to start making arrests. In his earpiece, Edward's voice came through.
"Team Three, balding man in the grey jacket, northwest corner. He's the one who organized the church group. Team Five, woman with the megaphone near the burger shop, she's with the Women's Alliance..."
Marco was about to head outside to oversee the arrests when he caught movement in his peripheral vision. Darnell sprinted toward the new building.
"Hey! Darnell! What the hell are you doing?"
Darnell didn't answer. Marco frowned, then shrugged. Probably had to take a piss or something. He turned his attention back to the scene outside, making a mental note to give bonuses to Petty, Bronnie, and Dominique for their excellent performance in baiting the crowd.
Then realization hit him.
"Oh, shit. My frittata."
He spun around and ran for the new building, taking the stairs three at a time. But it was too late. By the time he burst through the cafeteria door, the damage was done.
Darnell sat at the table, fork in one hand, the pan in the other, shoveling the last of Marco's breakfast into his mouth.
"Marco..." Darnell spoke through a mouthful of eggs and sausage. "You weren't eating it, and..." He swallowed. "... food gets cold if you leave it sitting around..."
Marco stared at the empty pan. "You didn't leave me a single bite!"
He looked at the table and spotted a small plate with three cloves of roasted garlic sitting there.
"You even made yourself garlic?! That's my garlic!"
Darnell had the decency to look slightly guilty, but only slightly. "I thought you forgot about it..."
"I was working! There was a mob outside!" Marco grabbed the empty pan and resisted the urge to hit him with it. "You know what? Fuck it. I'm going to the burger shop."
He stormed out. Darnell called after him, but he was already halfway down the stairs.
By the time he reached the burger shop on the corner, his anger had cooled slightly. At least until he saw the line. The various protest groups had formed a queue that stretched around the block. Apparently fighting built up an appetite.
He waited. And waited. And waited.
When he finally reached the counter, the teenager behind the register gave him an apologetic smile.
"Sorry, officer. We're out of the triple-layer beef burgers."
Marco stared at him. "What?"
"It's sold out. We've got chicken sandwiches, though..."
Marco closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and counted to five. When he opened them, the kid was still looking at him.
"Give me a large box of fried chicken."
"We've got..."
"Large."
Five minutes later, Marco walked back into the precinct with a box of mediocre fried chicken. He dropped the box onto the desk in the lobby, grabbed his baton from his belt, and headed for the interrogation rooms.
The officers in the lobby exchanged glances and quietly made themselves scarce.
For the next thirty minutes, the precinct's interrogation wing echoed with the sounds of shouting and crying. Nobody went to investigate. This was just one of those things you learned to ignore if you wanted to survive working at the East End Precinct.
When Marco finally emerged. He carried a stack of signed confessions, neatly organized and ready for filing. His hair was slightly mussed, his shirt untucked, but he looked significantly more relaxed.
He walked to his desk, set down the confessions, pulled out his phone, and called Darnell.
"Get in the car. We're heading out to arrest someone."
"Uh... you good?"
"Let's move."
---
The assault vehicle had barely made it two blocks from the precinct when Marco's phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered without taking his eyes off the road. "Hey, Doc. We just left. This isn't anything exciting or fun, so you can sit this one out—"
"Captain." Dr. Quinzel's voice came through the speaker. "We might have a problem. Raven's missing."
Marco's foot slammed on the brake.
The tires screeched against the pavement, and the vehicle skidded slightly before coming to a full stop. Behind him, two more patrol cars also braked hard, horns blaring in protest.
"What do you mean, missing?"
"I don't know. I just got to Anna's room and found her trapped. You should probably see this for yourself."
"Fuck." Marco grabbed the radio. "Units B and C, proceed as planned. You have the addresses for the church leadership. Arrest everyone on the list. If anyone resists, you're cleared to use force." He switched channels. "Unit A, return to the house with me. Repeat: Units B and C continue the operation. Unit A follows me back."
He wrenched the steering wheel hard, executing a U-turn that left rubber on the asphalt. The assault vehicle's engine roared as they sped back toward the precinct.
"Did Raven leave because of those assholes this morning?" Darnell asked from the passenger seat.
"What else would it be? You think she went out for ice cream?"
They pulled into the parking lot with enough speed to make the suspension groan. Marco and Darnell were out of the vehicle before it fully stopped, running for the new building's upper floors where the officer dormitories were located.
Anna's room was on the third floor. When Marco opened the door, he saw Dr. Quinzel pacing near the window. Anna stood in the corner, pressed against the wall. Her entire body was wrapped in black shadows that looked like living tentacles. They coiled around her arms, her legs, and her torso, pinning her in place. Her face was pale, and her eyes were red.
Darnell muttered. "Did the kid do this? What kind of horror movies have you people been letting her watch?"
Marco shot him a look and walked over to Anna. He reached out and tried to grab one of the shadowy tendrils. His fingers passed straight through it, yet something was clearly holding Anna in place.
Darnell pulled out his pocket knife and poked at the shadows with the tip of the blade. They didn't react at all.
"Captain, I tried to stop her. I swear. But she just... she looked at me, and my shadow..." Anna swallowed. "She said she didn't want to be anyone's burden anymore."
Marco slowly looked around the room. It was small but cozy. Anna had clearly tried her best to make it feel like a home. There were two beds, one for her and one for Raven. On Raven's bed sat a strange stuffed animal. It looked like some bizarre cartoon creature with far too many eyes.
"These things..." Anna swallowed again. "The shadows usually disappear on their own after a while. She left through one of her portals. She said she was going somewhere she wouldn't hurt anyone."
"But why would she leave?" Marco looked at Dr. Quinzel. "When the League of Assassins attacked the precinct, she didn't run. What changed?"
Dr. Quinzel stopped pacing and crossed her arms. "I think it's adolescent psychology. And before you give me that look..." She pointed at both Marco and Darnell. "... emotional volatility during adolescence is completely normal. Especially after seeing ordinary people reject her. That kind of external validation of her worst fears can trigger extreme responses."
Marco let out a breath and clapped his hands together.
"Okay. Let's think about this rationally. She's gone, which means that demon thing won't come looking for us anymore, right?"
Darnell spoke slowly, "The church won't have any reason to keep harassing us. And no one needs to worry about the precinct being attacked."
"So her leaving is good for everyone," Marco said. "At least our lives just got easier. Except she's out there alone. And her father might find her."
"Yeah," Dr. Quinzel added. "And there are those cult fanatics. She didn't take any money."
The room fell silent. For a few seconds, nobody moved. Then, everyone jumped into action at once.
"Darnell!" Marco barked. "Get Ed and Otis!"
Darnell scrambled for the door, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to leave.
Marco turned to Dr. Quinzel. "I know you're one of the best psychologists in Gotham. You ran circles around Dr. Strange without even showing your face. So, where would she go? What's she thinking right now?"
"Flattery won't work on me. You should know that by now. From a psychological perspective, Raven's behavior isn't a simple runaway situation. It's a form of self-imposed exile driven by guilt, self-denial, and a distorted sense of heroism. Her destination won't be random. It'll be somewhere symbolic."
Marco stared at her. "I barely finished high school. Can you say that in English?"
Dr. Quinzel took a breath.
"The cultists this morning called her the 'Devil's Daughter.' That's her worst fear. And when she saw normal people agreeing with them, screaming for her to be handed over, it confirmed everything she's been afraid of. In her mind, she's the problem. So leaving isn't just running away, it's an act of heroism. She's protecting everyone by removing herself from the equation. It's a very adolescent way of thinking."
"So where does that take her?"
Dr. Quinzel's expression grew more serious.
"The docks, a bridge, the edge of the city, maybe the place where she first arrived in Gotham. Or... she might go somewhere that represents a final confrontation."
She suddenly went pale.
"Oh God. Marco, she's not just running. She will confront the cultists directly and hope to end it once and for all."