DC: All for One Chapter 9 — Backed into a Corner

In Gotham, you can die at the drop of a hat. One day you can just be walking on the side of the street and next you have been shot in the head for the forty dollars you made scraping shit out of the fast food toilet. Chances are they will never catch your killer either. It does not matter if you are good or bad, it does not matter what political party you support, it does not matter what religion you are. Everyone in Gotham gets equally shit on. There is no such thing as good luck. There is only not having bad luck.

Ethan knew all of this and yet it did not stop the anger that had started to bubble up inside him from erupting, in the form of him bashing a metal pipe against a dumpster. Despite the injuries he carried. Artemis did not say anything as she watched him do so, this was the first time she had ever seen him display even a hint of emotion, and a voice in her head told her it would be unwise to interrupt whatever crisis he was going through.

Ethan smashed the metal harder, again and again, the pipe cracking against the dumpster with a loud hollow sound. Everything had been perfect. Everything had gone according to plan for at least mostly. In a month or so when he had found a meta ability that could manipulate memories he would have been free, he would have gotten away with murder and several other heinous crimes. But now all of that had just come crashing down, the house of cards he had built crumbled and all it had taken was one variable that he had not accounted for.

Iron Row.

Iron fucking Row.

Even thinking of the gang made his blood boil to the point where he wondered if he had some sort of mental affliction. It was not surprising to be angry. But to be this angry was strange, he had to resort to bashing things like a damn monkey just to make sure the anger did not affect his higher thinking. As exhilarating as this new emotion was, he knew he could not afford to keep delving into his baser instincts. There was also the fact that Artemis was calling his name and he had ignored her for long enough.

"Ethan," she shouted, and she tried to grab him.

"Stop, Ethan, please," she added, and Ethan finally obliged as he turned around to face her.

His chest rose and fell slower. His grip loosened. The pipe dropped from his hand and hit the ground with a dull sound.

"I apologise for that, Artemis," he said. "I struggled to control my temper."

She stared at him. Her face was tight and pale.

"Who were those people?" Artemis asked.

Ethan thought for a moment on what to tell her, though he needn't think long, as he knew Artemis wasn't stupid,  and he also knew that based on the trajectory of how things were currently going she'd easily find out he was lying.

"Iron Row," Ethan replied as he limped slightly over to an overturned trash can and sat on it. "My parents bought from them a lot and were in debt... it seems that they decided it was time to collect." He tried to show some emotion at that point, but it was an impossible task; it would've been like asking him to show emotion for the gang members who had just shot at him. 

Artemis' eyes widened. "You mean..." she said tentatively. 

Ethan nodded. "They're both dead," he replied. 

Her face shifted in a way he did not recognize at first, it took him a moment to understand that it was shock trying to settle into grief, that it was grief trying to surface in a controlled way.

"I... I am so sorry," Artemis said, as she stepped closer even though she did not touch him. "I did not know it was that bad. I knew they were bad people but I did not think..."

She stopped herself, the silence that followed felt heavy in a way that she could feel but he could only observe.

"You do not need to be sorry," Ethan said, while his hands rested loosely on his knees. "I will be fine."

She looked at him like she wanted to argue, but she could not, since she did not know how to respond to someone who spoke about it without any change in tone.

"Why did they attack you?" she asked quietly. "If they were just there to collect."

He looked away for a second, then back to her.

"I caught them in the act," he replied, he made sure his voice stayed level. "They were not expecting anyone to be home, I came back early. They panicked. I reacted. Things escalated."

Her brow lowered slightly at that, though only for a moment.

"And the others?" she asked. "Why there were more of them."

"I assume they had backup nearby," Ethan answered, while he kept his gaze steady. "That kind of group does not work alone."

She nodded slowly, accepting the answer, did not press him further.

There was a pause after that, where neither of them spoke, the city noise felt distant and unimportant compared to the small corner where they both stood.

After a moment she spoke again.

"What do we do now?" Artemis asked, her voice was softer.

Ethan reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded wad of cash, held it out toward her with a steady hand, while his leg shifted slightly as the pain in his side reminded him that his body had limits.

"You are going to make yourself scarce for one night," he said, while his eyes stayed on her. "You are going to get a hotel room and you are not going to come back here until it has blown over, you are not going to tell anyone where you went, you are not going to take your phone out in public."

She looked at the money, then back at him.

"I cannot just leave you here," Artemis said, her shoulders tightened.

"You can and you should," Ethan replied, his voice stayed calm while the urgency sat underneath it, he kept speaking without pausing. "You were seen with me earlier today, if anyone connects you to what happened, they could connect you to the building and find your mom."

She hesitated for a moment before letting out a loud sigh, then slowly took the money. "I do not like this," she said.

"I do not need you to like it," Ethan replied. "If you want your mother to be safe then it's necessary."

She studied him for a few more seconds, then nodded. "Alright," she said.

He found it strange that she accepted it so easily, part of him expected resistance that never came especially since she was so close with her mother, though he did not comment on it and just narrowed it down to him getting a lucky break. 

She looked at him again. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

He folded his hands together loosely, and looked out toward the street. "I am going to do the only thing I can do," he replied. 

There was only one real option left in front of him.

A direct link had now been made between him and Iron Row, there was no version of this situation that did not end with questions being asked, bodies being found, reports being filed. His parents would be discovered soon, when they were, people would ask where he had been, why men from a large gang had been inside a broken apartment that belonged to two addicts, why they had died and why an entire hit squad had attacked the building to try and kill him.

If he tried to disappear, he would look guilty. 

He was backed into a corner and the only move that gave him control of the narrative was the move that put him in a position he hated more than any other.

He had to call the police.

He had to tell them what happened.

He had to let them bring him in.

That was the only choice that did not collapse the house of cards he'd built entirely.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone.

He stared at the screen for a long time, then he began to dial.

_____________________________________

Kieran Deloe lounged at the head of a scarred wooden table in the warehouse that served as one ofIron Row's many bases, while he toyed with a switchblade that flicked open and shut in his lap. Tommy had just dragged in the two dealers after the books raised flags, but Kieran didn't sweat the details—he had Eddie for that. Kieran glanced at him now, his gold-toothed grin splitting wide. "Eddie, my man, what's the damage? These boys dipping into the cookie jar?"

Eddie adjusted his glasses and cleared his throat. "Yes, boss. The east side drops show a shortfall of approximately eight thousand over the last month. Collections reported full, but the tallies don't match. It's systematic, there are consistent skims on every run."

Kieran let out a wuiet chuckle that rumbled from his chest like gravel in a tumbler, snapping the blade shut and leaning forward on his elbows. "Eight grand? That's a nice chunk of change for candy bars and hookers, ain't it, fellas? Sit your asses down. Let's chat. I love family talks."

Marco hesitated in the doorway, his thin frame blocking the light from the hall, but Rico shoved past him and dropped into a chair, wiping sweat from his upper lip with a shaky hand. Marco followed, perching on the edge of his seat like he might bolt, his eyes flicking to the door every few seconds. "Boss, it's not what it looks like," Marco started, his words tumbling out in a rush. "We had a rough week with those Falcone pricks jumping the runners. Lost product. We were gonna cover it from our end. Honest, we were gonna square it with you soon."

Kieran tilted his head, his grin widening until it looked like it might split his face, and he drummed his fingers on the table. "Rough week, huh? Eddie here says the jumps were two weeks back, and you reported full that night. No losses. But every drop since then's light? Sounds like you're treating my money like your personal piggy bank. Tell me, boys, you planning a vacation? Maybe to sunny Mexico with my cash for margaritas and whores?"

Rico leaned forward, his hands splaying flat on the table. "No, boss, I swear on my mother's grave, it was just the one time to plug the hole. Marco's kid's sick—hospital bills piling up. We dipped a little to breathe, but we're good now. We'll pay double, triple even. You know us we're loyal."

Kieran nodded slowly at first, his eyes distant like he was considering it, then he reached across the table and patted Rico's hand almost gently, his calluses rough against the man's skin. "Loyal. Yeah, I like that word. Family's all about loyalty, right? Covering for each other when shit gets tight. Eddie's numbers might say different, but hey, family's family." He squeezed Rico's hand tighter, his grip turning vise-like until the knuckles cracked audibly, and Rico winced but held still, sweat beading on his forehead.

Marco jumped in with a nervous voice. "See, boss? We're making it right. Just give us a week... no, two days. We'll deliver the full take plus interest. You built this crew from scraps, and we respect that. Please."

Kieran released Rico's hand with a sudden jerk that made the man yelp, then leaned back and lit a cigarette, the flame from his lighter dancing in his eyes as he inhaled deep, the smoke curling from his nostrils in lazy spirals. "Respect. That's another good one. You know what I respect? Honesty. Straight talk. Not this bullshit about sick kids and jumps." He exhaled a plume that hung heavy between them, then flicked the cigarette ash onto Marco's shoe, watching it smolder there. "Eight grand's a lot for 'breathing room.' What, you boys think I'm blind? Or just stupid?"

Rico swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing like a trapped animal. "Boss, we made a mistake. It won't happen again. Let us prove it, double the next run, we'll get on our knees if you want! Iron Row's blood, right? We're in this together."

Kieran laughed then, a wet, barking sound that started in his gut and built until it shook his whole frame, tears of mirth glistening in his eyes as he slapped the table hard enough to rattle the ashtray. "Together! Oh, that's rich. You skim my product, lie to my face, and now you come kneeling? Like dogs begging for scraps?" He stood abruptly, the chair toppling behind him with a clatter, and circled the table slowly. "I gave you roofs over your heads. Guns in your hands. Women who didn't spit on your ugly faces when you touched 'em. And this is how you repay me? By fucking me over for chump change?"

Marco rose halfway from his chair, hands out placating. "Kieran, listen we'll fix it. Name the price. Anything. Just say the word."

The laugh died in Kieran's throat, replaced by a snarl that twisted his scarred face into something feral, his eyes bulging as veins throbbed in his temples. "Price? The price is your goddamn loyalty, you thieving rat-fucks!" He lunged forward and grabbed Marco by the throat, slamming him back into the chair so hard the wood groaned, his fingers digging into flesh until Marco gagged and clawed at his wrist. "You think you can steal from me? From Iron Row? I'll show you what happens to a dog who bites the hand!"

Rico bolted up, chair scraping, but Kieran spat full-force at his face, the glob hitting Rico's cheek and detonating in a flash of searing heat that shredded skin and muscle, sending him reeling back with a scream as blood sprayed the wall in red arcs, his hands flying to the ruined crater where his eye used to be. "What the—ahh, fuck, boss, stop!"

Kieran released Marco only to backhand him across the jaw, the ring on his finger splitting the man's lip open as he toppled sideways, chair and all, crashing to the floor in a heap. "Stop? You want me to stop? After you two been laughing behind my back, counting my money like it was yours?" He stomped on Marco's knee, the crack echoing like gunfire as the bone gave way, and Marco howled, writhing on the concrete while clutching the shattered joint. "I built this gang from my own sweat and blood! Me! Not you dog fucking shits!"

Eddie shrank into the corner his face ashen as he whispered, "Boss, maybe we talk this out—"

"Shut your fucking mouth Eddie or you'll be on the floor with them!" Kieran roared, whirling on him with eyes wild, then turned back to Rico, who crawled toward the door on his belly, leaving a trail of blood and charred flesh. Kieran hawked up another wad and spat it onto Rico's exposed back, the glob bursting against his shirt and igniting fabric in a bloom of flame that seared through to muscle, the man shrieking as blisters rose and popped, the smell of cooking meat filling the room. "Crawl all you want, you backstabbing worm! You think you can run from me?!"

Marco dragged himself up on one arm, tears streaming through the blood on his face. "Kieran please, family remember? We been with you since the docks. Mercy, boss, mercy!"

Kieran knelt beside him, grabbing a fistful of hair to yank his head back, exposing the throat. "Family? This is family." He bit on his finger letting blood drip before flicking his hand and letting the blood his Marcus, a moment later it detonated. Marco's scream cut off in a gurgle as shock set in, his body convulsing while blood bubbled from the crater, soaking his collar in dark rivulets.

Rico reached the door, fingers scrabbling at the handle, but Kieran was there in two strides, stomping his hand flat with a crunch of bone that pinned it to the wood. "Going somewhere, Rico? We ain't done chatting." He forced the man's jaw open with one hand, the other hawking phlegm deep from his throat before spitting straight down, the glob landing on Rico's tongue and detonating in a burst that shattered molars and shredded gums, blood foaming from his mouth as he choked and thrashed. Kieran purposely kept the explosions as weak as they could to cause maximum pain, and that is what they did.

Kieran hauled him up by the collar, slamming his ruined face against the doorframe once, twice, the wood splintering with each impact while Rico's screams devolved into wet gurgles, teeth clattering to the floor in bloody pieces. "You stole from me! Lied to me! Thought you could play me for a fool?" He punched Rico's gut, the fist sinking deep before detonating a sliver of knuckle skin against his ribs—the explosion ripping inward, shattering bone and puncturing lung in a spray of red froth that painted the wall. Rico sagged, gasping impossibly, but Kieran held him upright, whispering hot against his ear. "This is what family gets when they forget who their father is."

He snapped Rico's arm at the elbow for good measure, the bone protruding through skin before he dropped some of his blood on it and let the exposed shard explode, shrapnel tearing through muscle and artery in a fountain of blood that soaked Kieran's shirt. Rico's body jerked once more, eyes glazing over as life fled, and Kieran let him drop in a heap, the puddle spreading slow across the threshold.

Marco lay still now, shock claiming him, but Kieran dragged him center-room by the ankle, positioning him beside Rico's corpse like mismatched dolls. "Look at your partner, Marco. That's the end of someone who had no fucking loyalty." He knelt and forced Marco's mouth open, spitting inside, the glob hitting the back of the throat and bursting downward, shredding vocal cords and esophagus in a spray that choked the man from within, his body arching in silent agony as blood frothed from his lips, eyes bulging in final terror before going vacant.

Kieran stood, breathing heavy but the coke in his system turning the rush to euphoria as he wiped blood from his hands on his pants. "Clean this shit up, Eddie," he said to the accountant, who nodded numbly from the corner. "And get the crew in here."

Eddie scrambled up, averting his eyes from the bodies. "Yes, boss. Right away."

The door opened again before Eddie reached it, and Vince stepped in, folder under his arm, his face paling as he took in the scene. He froze, swallowing hard. "Boss... I have news on the Kane hit."

Kieran turned slowly, his grin returning like a mask slipping into place. "News? Spill it, Vince. Make it good."

Vince placed the folder on the edge of the table, careful not to touch the blood. "The hit on the Kanes went partial. We got the parents. But the son he lived. Fought back hard. Beat nearly a dozen of our guys before he slipped away. They said he moved like a special forces type. He ended up leaving four in the hospital."

Kieran paused, the words hanging in the air as he lit a fresh cigarette, the flame almost unmovingg in his hand despite the tremor starting in his fingers. He inhaled deep, held it, then breathed the smoke out in a forceful jet that hit Vince's outfit and detonated in a small burst, shredding leather and blistering skin through leather and flesh, the man yelping as he hopped back, clutching his chest while charred bits flaked off.

"Boss!" Vince gasped, face twisting in pain. "What the hell?"

Kieran paced now, the cigarette dangling from his lips as ash fell unheeded. "First I lost Creedence.. Then Eric. Now this? Some of my best men carved up by the goddamn kid responsible? All of this because of one child. One snot-nosed brat who thinks he can play with the big boys?"

He paced faster, his voice rising with each word, fists clenching until knuckles whitened. "Who the fuck does he think he is? What makes him think he can touch Iron Row and walk? I built this from spit and blood, Vince! Me! Not some punk with a grudge!"

Vince whimpered from the floor, cradling his ruined chest where skin peeled in red strips. "Boss, please... the pain..."

Kieran whirled and grabbed Vince by the collar, hauling him up so their faces inches apart, the man's feet dangling as blood dripped from his shoe. "Where is he now? Tell me, or I'll make your whole face match."

Vince sobbed, snot mixing with tears. "Boss please help—!"

Kieran punched him square in the gut, the fist driving air from his lungs in a wheeze that left him gasping. "WHERE IS HE?!!!"

Vince choked, clutching his stomach. "The police station! They took him in after! He is there!"

Kieran dropped him like trash, Vince crumpling to the floor in a heap. He pulled his gun from his waistband, and aimed at the man's head as Vince looked up with pleading eyes. "Boss... no..."

The shot rang out, blood spraying the wall in a fan as Vince's head jerked back, body slumping still. Kieran holstered the gun and turned to Eddie, who cowered by the door. "Contact our informants at the station. Find out what they have on the boy. Clean this shit up. I want him gone. Today."

Eddie nodded frantically, scrambling out the door without a backward glance. Kieran sat down heavily, lighting another cigarette as the smoke filled the room, mingling with the coppery scent of blood. The anger simmered now. Ethan Kane would learn what happened when he fucked with the Boss.

_____________________________________

Ethan walked through the doors of the police station with two officers who had arrived at the scene after his call from the alley near the apartment building, they led him past the front desk where clerks typed on keyboards and phones rang with calls from dispatchers reporting incidents across the city, then one of them stopped and pointed to a wooden bench bolted to the wall in the waiting area near a vending machine. 

The officer who pointed wore a uniform with a name tag that read Ramirez, m he stood next to the bench while Ethan lowered himself onto it with movements that favored his left side where a cut from the fight pulled at the skin under his shirt. Ramirez looked down at him, "Do you want something to drink? We have water from the cooler over there or coffee from the pot in the break room, or do you need to call someone in your family to tell them what happened and that you're here at the station now?" He asked.

Ethan looked up at Ramirez from the bench where he sat with his hands resting on his knees and his back straight against the wall, "No, I do not want anything to drink, and I do not need to make any calls right now, but thank you for offering."

Ramirez nodded once and placed his hands on his belt where his radio clipped to the side crackled with a voice from another unit requesting backup on a different street, "Alright, sit tight here, I'll be back in a second to get things started with your statement and the report."

Ramirez turned and walked across the tiled floor of the station lobby where footsteps echoed from officers moving between desks and suspects sat in handcuffs on other benches waiting for processing, he reached the counter at the processing area where a colleague named Patel stood behind the counter entering data from a clipboard into the system, he looked up when Ramirez leaned against the edge and picked up a pen to sign in the arrival log. 

Patel set down his clipboard, "Hey, Ramirez, what's the deal with that kid you just brought in and sat on the bench over there?" He asked with a curious expression.

Ramirez finished signing the log and placed the pen back in the holder on the counter, then he glanced back toward the bench where Ethan remained seated without shifting or looking around; he just looked straight ahead which was a little creepy. "The kid's name is Ethan Kane, and from what he told us on the way over and at the scene, both of his parents got killed in their apartment earlier tonight in something tied to a gang, probably Iron Row based on the tattoos we saw on the guys we picked up, they tried to take him out too but he fought them off and got away before calling it in from a payphone down the block."

Patel stopped typing and leaned forward on the counter with his elbows resting on the surface while he shook his head slowly and looked over at Ethan again, "Man, that's heavy stuff for anyone, let alone a teenager like him, I can't even picture coming home to find your folks gone like that and then having to run for your life from armed thugs, it makes me feel bad just thinking about what he's probably processing right now with no warning or time to prepare."

Ramirez nodded and flipped open a notebook from his pocket to review the notes he had jotted down during the initial response at the apartment where blood stained the floors and shell casings scattered near the door, then he lowered his voice and added, "Yeah, it's a bad scene alright, the crime scene techs are still there collecting evidence and the coroner just arrived when we left with him."

He then leaned forward while looking at Ethan. "You know what though? Something about this kid is off to me... he hasn't cried once since we picked him up or even raised his voice when he described walking in on the bodies, he's a little creepy too, feels like I'm talking to a damn robot." He shivered slightly after speaking before turning back to Patel. 

Patel crossed his arms and tilted his head while he stared at Ethan who sat motionless with his gaze fixed on the floor tiles in front of the bench, "You're right, most kids his age would be breaking down or at least asking a ton of questions about what happens next, but he's just sitting there like it's another day, no tears, no shaking, nothing, it makes me wonder if he's in some deep shock that hasn't hit yet or if there's more to him, like maybe he's one of those psycho types," he said with a shrug.

Ramirez shrugged as well and closed his notebook before slipping it back into his pocket, "Could be shock from the trauma blocking it all out for now, but I've seen enough cases where the calm ones turn out to have secrets or be completely unhinged, we'll see what comes out in the interview, but yeah, it crosses my mind that he might be a psycho."

Patel uncrossed his arms and picked up his clipboard again to resume entering data, "Keep an eye on him during the questioning, if his story doesn't add up or he slips on details, maybe you might need to dig deeper, but for now, I hope the poor guy gets some help after this, losing both parents in one night to gang crap is no way to grow up."

Ramirez agreed and turned to the computer terminal next to Patel to begin the protocol steps for intake, and he typed Ethan's full name and date of birth from the identification card Ethan had provided earlier into the system to check for any prior records or outstanding warrants that might connect to the incident. The search returned no matches beyond basic residency information linked to the apartment address where the bodies remained under guard until the investigation team finished photographing the positions and collecting samples from the walls where bullets had embedded during the shootout. 

Ramirez then filled out the incident report form on the screen with details from the call log that included the time Ethan had dialed emergency services and the initial description he had given over the phone about discovering the scene and escaping the attackers who followed him to the street. He attached digital scans of Ethan's injuries using photos taken at the ambulance with a department camera that showed bruises on his arms and a gash on his torso from a knife that one of the gang members had swung during the confrontation inside the apartment. 

After completing the form, Ramirez printed two copies, one for the file and one for the interview packet, and he stamped them with the station's official seal from a pad on the counter that left ink marks on the paper edges. He radioed the on-duty sergeant in the back office to confirm availability of an interview room, and the sergeant responded over the static that room four stood empty after the last suspect had been transferred to holding cells downstairs for the night. Ramirez noted the room assignment in the logbook on the counter where entries from earlier shifts listed similar cases of assaults and thefts reported that evening, then he gathered the printed forms and a blank statement sheet for Ethan to fill out during the session.

Ramirez walked back to the bench where Ethan still sat without having moved or spoken to anyone passing by in the lobby, "Alright my friend, let's go and get you settled in the interview room," he said. 

They started down the hall with Ramirez in front and Ethan behind him matching the pace despite a limp from the leg. They passed a door on the left that allowed a view inside to a desk covered in folders and a computer screen displaying maps of the city districts, the man inside looked up from reviewing a report on a string of robberies in the financial district and noticed Ethan through the glass as they continued past toward the end of the corridor. 

Commissioner Gordon set down the report and watched them until they reached the door marked Interview Room Four, where Ramirez unlocked it with a key from his ring and motioned for Ethan to enter. Ramirez closed the door after Ethan sat at the table with his hands folded in front of him on the surface. "A detective will be in here soon to take your statement snd let you know what's going to happen, don't worry too much about it, this is all standard stuff you're not in any trouble," he said with a reassuring smile. 

Ethan nodded at him politely. "I appreciate your help, if I do not see you again before I leave then thank you," he said courteously. 

Ramirez smiled at him. "No problem, all part of the job." After that Ramirez left the room and locked the door from outside before heading back toward the processing area to file the forms. 

Gordon stepped out of his office into the hallway just as Ramirez passed by again, and he stopped him, "Ramirez, hold up a minute, what's the situation with that kid you just put in the interview room, is he a witness or a suspect?" He asked. 

Ramirez halted and turned to face Gordon with a start at seeing the commissioner there but quickly straightened his posture and cleared his throat, "Commissioner, I didn't expect you still here this late, but yeah, the kid's name is Ethan Kane, and it's a double homicide case from an apartment on the east side, both his parents are dead from what appears to be a gang hit, the kid says they came after him too but he got away after a fight."

Gordon rubbed his chin with one hand while he stood in the hallway and processed the information, "Damn it all," he muttered. 

"Is there a problem with the case, sir, or do you know the kid from somewhere?" Ramirez asked. 

Gordon nodded and dropped his hand from his chin while he looked down the hall toward where Ethan waited, "Yeah, I know him, he was at my house just a week ago for dinner, he's one of my daughter's friends from school."

Ramirez raised his eyebrows slightly but kept his expression neutral as he held the forms in his hand. 

"What do we have on suspects so far, any arrests at the scene or leads from the neighbors who might have heard the shots?" Gordon asked.

Ramirez flipped through the top page of the forms to confirm the details he had entered earlier, "We arrested two guys inside the apartment who were still there when the first units arrived, both of them had heavy injuries, and they match the description the kid gave of the initial attackers, we're running their prints now to confirm ties to Iron Row since that's who he pointed to as the gang involved over debts his parents owed."

Gordon stood silent for a moment with his arms crossed over his chest while he thought about the connection to his daughter and the potential risks if the gang decided to target anyone linked to Ethan, then he uncrossed his arms, "Has the kid called any family to come down here, maybe aunts or uncles who can take him in tonight after we finish the interview and release?" He asked. 

Ramirez shook his head and adjusted the forms in his grip to prevent them from slipping, "No, sir, when I asked him earlier if he wanted to make any calls to family, he told me straight out that he didn't have any to contact, so we're looking at child services getting involved if there's no one else on record for him."

Gordon exhaled through his nose and looked at the floor tiles for a second before raising his eyes back to Ramirez, "Damn, that's rough on top of everything else."

Ramirez waited without speaking while Gordon glanced once more toward the interview room, "Keep me posted on this one, Ramirez, let me know what comes out of the interview and if those arrested guys talk or if we get any more from the scene techs, and if the kid needs anything immediate, like a place to stay tonight, I'll see what I can arrange through channels."

Ramirez nodded, "Will do, Commissioner, I'll make sure the lead detective loops you in on updates as soon as we have them, I'll just head back to processing now to get these filed."

Gordon turned and walked back into his office where he closed the door behind him and sat at his desk to pick up the phone and dial his home number to check on his daughter and warn her about the situation with her friend, while Ramirez continued down the hall to the processing counter and handed the forms to Patel who stamped them received and placed them in the incoming tray for the night supervisor to review before shift change in the morning.

Inside the interview room, Ethan sat at the table with his hands still folded and his eyes scanning the bare walls where paint peeled slightly in the corners from years of use and cleaning with harsh chemicals, he waited for the detective assigned to the case to enter and begin the questions that would test the story he had prepared the moment he had called the police.

Ethan reviewed the details in his mind, the sequence of events he would describe starting from returning home early to find the gang members already there executing his parents over the debts, then the fight that ensued when they turned on him, using improvised weapons from the kitchen and living room to disable them before fleeing out the apartment only to see more gunmen; which ended up with him going through the window. 

He planned to omit any mention of Artemis as he didn't want them to bring her in. He calculated the risks of the arrested men contradicting his account once they woke up in the hospital under guard, but he figured their loyalty to the gang and dislike of the cops would keep them silent or their injuries would delay any statements long enough for him to establish his version first, he was the victim here after all.

"Hi Ethan. I'm Detective Harper," she said before looking at him with a sad expression. "I am very sorry for what you went through today. I know this is a lot to handle in one night, especially on your own. We are going to go at your pace. If you need a break at any point, a glass of water, or even a pause to step outside the room, you just say the word. You are in control of the timing here."

She waited a moment, giving him space to respond if he wanted to, though she did not expect it from the blank look on his face.

"When you are ready," she continued, her tone still gentle, "I would like you to start from the beginning. Tell me what happened when you got home this evening. Take it step by step. Tell me anything you remember about the people who were there, anything they said, anything they did. There is no rush. We can stop any time you need."

"I believe I'll be fine thank you detective." Ethan looked at her across the table and began his recounting in a steady voice that did not waver, "I came home earlier than usual from walking around the neighborhood, and when I opened the door to the apartment, I saw two men standing over my parents who were on the floor not moving, with blood around them from gunshot wounds, and the men turned to me and said something like 'you're next, kid' before pulling out knives and coming at me." He didn't give the full details as he didn't want them to think that he was the target, and if he had told them that they had been propped up on the couch they'd assume that they had been waiting for him. 

Harper wrote notes on a pad from the folder while the recorder captured the words, "Did you recognize these men or hear them mention any names or reasons for being there, anything that could help us identify their group or motive?" She asked. 

Ethan paused for a second as if recalling, then continued, "I didn't know their faces, but they had tattoos on their arms that looked like the ones Iron Row uses, the chain links with spikes, and I remember my parents owing money to that gang for drugs they bought on credit, so I think that's why they were there... to collect or punish them for not paying."

The interview continued with Harper probing for more details on the fight, and Ethan described the fight as well as his escape in vague detail, trying to make it seem more desperate than anything skilful. 

"Alright, I think I have enough, thank you very much Ethan. We'll verify this as soon as we can, in the meantime, since you're a minor with no family listed, child services will send someone to discuss placement options, but for tonight, you can stay in a holding area here if needed." 

Ethan nodded without comment. 

Detective Harper then walked out of the interview room with the folder tucked under her arm, she closed the door behind her and turned the lock before heading down the hallway. She reached the break room at the end of the corridor where she glanced over her shoulder to confirm no one followed her from the main area before she pulled her personal cell phone from her pocket and dialed a number. "It's Harper, I have an update on the Kane kid you asked about, he's here at the station right now, I just finished putting him through the interview in room four."

Kieran's voice came back over the line, "The little shit's right there in your building, you got access to him, so send someone in that room now and have them put a bullet straight through his skull, make it look like he grabbed a gun or some suicide bullshit."

"No way, Kieran, I'm not throwing my badge and my whole career in the trash over one punk kid who got lucky in a scrap, we do that here and  internal affairs swarms the place and I'm the one doing time while you sit safe in your hole," she replied with slight annoyance. 

"You forget whose money keeps your ass out of debt and your kid in that fancy school, Harper, you're on my payroll, so you do what I say or I make one call and your life's over anyway, now get in there and handle it or send one of the others on the payroll," Kieren spat out not even hiding his distain. 

Harper closed her eyes for a second while she listened to his breathing heavy over the line from the coke still in his system that amped his rage, then she let out a sigh that fogged the window glass in front of her, "Listen I'm not going to go in there to put a bullet in his head, but I do have another idea... he's underage, seventeen from what his ID shows, and with no family on record to claim him after this mess."

"So what if he's a damn kid, that didn't stop him from carving up my crew, age means shit in this game," he replied.

"It means child services gets called in automatically for cases like this with minors who lose guardians in violent crimes, they'll send a social worker tonight to pick him up from here and transport him to a temporary placement, probably one of the group homes on the west side or a foster setup until they sort the paperwork, you can use that window when he's in transit or at the home, set up an ambush on the route or hit the place after drop-off, less eyes and no cops to deal with."

Kieran stopped pacing on his end and sat back down at the table with the chair scraping against the floor as he pulled it closer, and after a pause he nodded, "Yeah, that works better, no mess in your precious station, get the details on when they pick him up and which home they take him to, call me back with the route or the address as soon as you know, and make sure no one flags him for protection or changes the plan, you handle the paperwork to speed it through."

"Got it, I'll handle it all now," Detective Harper said before hanging up and getting to work. She took a deep breath as she pushed aside the large amounts of guilt she felt for what she was about to do, but in the end she had to do it. For herself and for her family. 

...

Commissioner Gordon sat at his desk in the office with a tired look on his faces. He leaned back in the chair which creaked under his weight and he rubbed his eyes with one hand while he thought about the boy in the interview room down the hall. The kid had lost both parents in a single night to what looked like a gang execution and now he faced the system as an orphan with no family to claim him. Gordon recalled the dinner at his home just a week earlier when Ethan had sat at the table with Barbara and the conversation had flowed easily among them. He wondered how a teenager handled that kind of loss without breaking down in the way most people would expect... it troubled him that Ethan seemed so composed during the intake process.

Gordon picked up the phone from the desk where it rested next to a half-empty coffee mug and dialed the home number.

"Dad? Is everything okay did you forget something at home again?" Barbara said from the other end of the line. 

"Hey Barb..." Gordon replied while he held the receiver close to his ear. "I need to tell you something... it's about one of your friends from school."

"Someone from school? Who is it?" Barbara asked, though her tone shifted with concern that carried over the connection.

"It's Ethan Kane," Gordon said as he glanced toward the door of his office which stood slightly ajar. "He's here at the station right now."

"What happened?" Barbara responded quickly, the panic in her voice evident. "Is he in trouble? Did he get hurt? Is he okay?"

Gordon paused for a moment. "I can't get into the specifics yet and you know how these things work with ongoing cases. But he's safe here for now and we're handling the situation."

"Dad, that doesn't tell me anything," Barbara said with a frustrated tone. "If Ethan's at the station then it must be serious, I want to come down there to see him."

"No, Barbara," Gordon interjected firmly while he shook his head. "You stay where you are, you know better than to rush into the middle of police business."

"But he's my friend," Barbara protested. "If he's there alone then he might need someone he knows... I can at least talk to him and help him feel better."

Gordon sighed softly into the phone as he leaned forward in the chair which adjusted with a slight shift. "I understand that you want to help him and it's good that you care about your friends. But right now the best thing is for you to let us do our jobs here at the station."

"Please, Dad," Barbara pleaded. "Just tell me if he's okay or if there's something really bad going on with him."

"He's not hurt in a way that needs immediate medical attention," Gordon assured her while he tapped a pen on the desk surface. "I'll let you know more about what happened when I can share the details without compromising the investigation."

"That sounds like it's worse than you're saying," Barbara replied and doubt lingered in her response. "You always hold back when it's something big... now I'm really worried about him."

"Trust me on this," Gordon said as he set the pen down next to the folders. "Ethan is in good hands here and we'll make sure he gets through whatever comes next."

"Fine," Barbara conceded after a brief silence on her end. "But promise you'll call me back soon with an update and don't leave me hanging all night."

"I promise," Gordon agreed while he nodded to himself. "Now get some rest if you can and I'll talk to you later."

"Okay, Dad," Barbara said before the call ended with a click that echoed in his ear.

Gordon placed the phone back on the desk where it belonged and he let out a deep sigh. He ran a hand through his hair which felt disheveled from the long day and he stared at the wall across from him. The phone rang suddenly on the desk and it jolted him from his thoughts as the sound cut through the silence. Gordon looked at the caller ID on the screen which displayed Harvey Bullock's name. 

"Harvey, what do you have for me?" Gordon asked as he settled back into the chair.

"Jim, it's about Montoya," Harvey replied. "I think she's missing, I've thought things were strange for a while and now it's something more than just a hunch. I can't just ignore it anymore."

"What makes you say that?" Gordon questioned while he grabbed a notepad from the drawer which he opened to a blank page.

"I got a call from her three days ago right after the City Hall explosion," Harvey explained as he paced on his end which Gordon could hear in the background steps. "She said her mother was sick and she had to leave town immediately to visit her. But it didn't sit right with me even then and now I've checked her apartment where everything looks too normal for someone who left in a hurry."

"Go on," Gordon prompted.

"Her favourite boots are still there in the closet and she never goes anywhere without them for more than a day," Harvey continued. "The duffel bag is under the bed unpacked, but her work jacket is missing along with her badge. There's a to-do list on her desk that is half finished... listen Jim I have a bad feeling about this and o think it involves Ethan Kane."

Gordon stopped writing for a second as the name registered with him. "Ethan Kane?"

"Yeah, the same kid from Gotham Academy who popped up in the Upshaw case," Harvey said and excitement built in his words. "I think there's a connection here that ties back to the bombing and the murder. Renee must've been closing in on something with him and now she's gone without a trace."

Before Harvey could add more details, Gordon interrupted him. "Harvey, Ethan Kane is at the station right now. Both of his parents have been killed in what looks like a gang hit."

There was a pause on the line before Harvey responded. "What? His parents are dead?"

"That's right," Gordon confirmed while he set the pen down on the notepad. "He called it in himself from an alley near the apartment and the officers brought him here for a statement. It seems tied to Iron Row over debts the parents owed."

"Jim listen to me, that makes perfect sense in a way you might not see yet," Harvey argued as he stopped pacing on his side. "Iron Row wasn't after the parents at all. They were targeting Ethan himself, I don't know how but they must've discovered that he was responsible for killing Upshaw, this must've been a revenge hit, or maybe this could even be Ethan trying to tie up any loose ends."

"How do you figure that?" Gordon asked with a raised brow.

"Think about it," Harvey pressed. "How often is a gang hit sent on a couple of nobody is like the Kanes? They're a bunch of goddamn junkies, no there has to be something more here, Jim you gotta let me interview him."

Gordon sighed into the receiver as he considered the points Harvey raised. "Listen Harvey, the kids just lost both his parents barely six hours ago I'm not gonna interrogate him for crimes that have no solid evidence. Put the Ethan stuff on the back burner for now. If Renee really is missing then that's the priority we need to focus on first."

"I'm not happy about brushing this aside Jim, every instinct I have is telling me the kids involved," Harvey replied. "What if Ethan killed her or kidnapped her to keep her quiet? I'm telling you the common thread in all this mess."

"I don't believe that for a second Harvey," Gordon stated firmly while he shook his head. "It's more likely that Iron Row is involved in whatever happened to Renee if there's a gang connection."

"Why not both?" Harvey challenged as he glanced around the apartment where the broken door reminded him of his entry. "Ethan could have been using the gang as a smokescreen."

"Harvey you're starting to sound ridiculous now, we stick to the facts we can prove," Gordon insisted. "Start with verifying Renee's story about her mother and check any leads on her whereabouts."

"Fine, but I'm telling you that kid is bad news," Harvey grumbled. "I'll file the missing person report officially and pull in resources to search for her."

"Do that," Gordon agreed while he flipped the notepad closed. "And keep me updated on what you find about Renee."

"You got it Jim," Harvey said as the call wrapped up with mutual understanding despite the tension.

Gordon hung up the phone and leaned back once more in the chair which supported him through the ongoing strain. He thought about the web of connections that linked Ethan to multiple cases and he wondered if Harvey's suspicions held any weight after all.

As the hours ticked by in the office, Gordon reviewed the initial statements from the scene where Ethan's parents had met their end and he cross-referenced them with known Iron Row operations that the department tracked. He picked up the phone again to call the lead on the gang unit "Tell me what we have on Iron Row's recent activities," Gordon said to the officer on the line.

"They're ramping up collections in the east side," the officer replied with details that filled in gaps. "Kieran Deloe is calling the shots and he seems to be wanting to expand, as far as I know he's been calling in all debts."

"That fits with what happened at the Kane apartment," Gordon noted as he added to his notes. "Keep on them and keep up to date with the other gangs territories, Iron Row seems to be on a full on collision to starting a gang war, something I hope we can avoid."

"We'll dig deeper sir," the officer assured him before the conversation ended.

Gordon set the receiver down and he stood up from the desk to stretch his legs which felt stiff from sitting too long. He walked to the window where the city lights flickered beyond the glass and he contemplated the safety of everyone involved in the unfolding events. He was worried about Ethan, about Barbara, even about Harvey. He returned to the desk and he dialed Harper's extension to get an update on the interview.

"Harper, what's the status with the Kane kid?" Gordon asked when she picked up.

"He gave a consistent statement with the one he gave at the scene with a few deviations here and there," Harper reported. "We're waiting on child services now for pickup."

"Make sure he's comfortable until then," Gordon instructed as he ended the call.

(AN: This is kinda boring tbh but it's mostly setup and shit, stuff that you need to do. But yeah shits going down next chapter and Ethan is going to have to take on an entire gang while maintaining his cover. That's going to be a little hard when a certain capes crusader comes into the mix.)