A/N: First Gotham fic...7 Nov 16 update is some fun extra material/Easter eggs if you're into that sort of thing. If you're here for the first time, no peeking! I don't own 'Gotham' or 'Batman,' nor do I profit from their use. This is all just for fun.

Prologue

"Will these be all, Dr. Thompkins?"

The Gotham City Police Department Medical Examiner doubled-checked her clipboard of notes and quickly walked down the row of three cadavers, checking the tags affixed to the body bags. She verified that the serial numbers and names corresponded with her notes and then looked up at the contracted medical waste disposal worker tasked with the unfortunate job of transporting the bodies.

"Yes, these three only."

"If you could sign here…"

"Gladly. Where? Oh." Dr. Thompkins scribbled quickly on a line at the bottom of his board and handed it back. "Thank you very much; I'll be very glad to get rid of that one." She pointed at the one furthest from her. "It makes me sick just knowing it's here after what he did."

"I'll make sure they're delivered safely to the crematorium and you won't have to worry about them, Doctor. Have a good evening."

The courier grabbed the first gurney and wheeled it down the hall as Dr. Thompkins returned to her desk and finished transcribing her findings from a gruesome double homicide that had come in earlier that morning—a drunken, enraged man stabbed his wife to death before dying at the hand of his teenage son with the same knife. As she worked, a typical October rainstorm pelted the windows of autopsy and masked the sounds of the courier wheeling away the three cadavers.

"Have a good evening, Dr. Thompkins," said the worker as he pulled the final body away. Leslie looked up with a friendly smile and waved good-bye politely.

"Thank God," she whispered under her breath as the body of Jerome Valeska was wheeled out of her care, down the hall, and away from the homicide precinct. Thompkins completed her notes on the separate case, filed them away, and collected her things. She locked autopsy and walked down the hall—in the opposite direction the disposal worker left with the bodies.

That evening, after making and then cleaning up from a dinner for two that only she attended, Leslie walked out of the bathroom; toothbrush still clenched askew between her teeth, and picked up the phone just before it went to voicemail.

"Hello?" she managed after quickly removing the brush.

"Lee, it's Jim. Something bizarre's happened."

She frowned and sat down on the edge of a barstool. "What's wrong? Are you alright?"

Across the city, Detective Jim Gordon frowned and turned around, mobile phone pressed to his ear as he huddled under a tattered awning that did little to protect him from the continuing downpour. He looked across the street at the collapsed storefront, the rubble strewn across both lanes of traffic, and the clusters of sirens that flashed in blues and reds blurred by the rain. Nevertheless, his gaze settled on the delivery van half-buried in what only hours earlier was a small pawnshop. An ambulance slowly trundled away from the accident and across his line of sight, momentarily obscuring the crash.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry I wasn't by for dinner."

Leslie's voice came through laced with worry. "So what's the matter?"

"You signed for those bodies to be transported for cremation today, right?"

"Yes, of course. It was the last thing I did."

Gordon sighed. "Alright, you'll probably have to make a statement as the first thing you do tomorrow. You were the last person to see the delivery guy alive."

Leslie Thompkins squeezed the phone tighter unconsciously and leaned forward. The color drained from her face. "What are you talking about, Jim?"

"I'm looking at the delivery van right now. It's buried in a building on the city limits and the driver's dead."

"And the bodies?"

Gordon turned back away from the crash, his face grim as he pressed the phone to his face. "They're gone, Lee. All three are gone."