DC: A Cop in Gotham

Chapter 24: Barry, Let's Catch The Flash Together!

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"How do you feel?"

Gordon, his familiar stern expression softened by the reunion of an old friendship, took a swig from the half-empty beer can he was holding. The quiet night air surrounded them, the usual chaos of Gotham feeling temporarily distant.

"Not great," Dean admitted, his voice laced with frustration. "Those scum in there should've been shot eight hundred times over, but a single mental health certificate spared them the death penalty." His words were sharp, carrying the bitterness of someone who had seen the system fail too many times.

Dean reached out for the beer can, his intent clear, but Gordon quickly dodged, holding it out of reach. "If you don't want Barbara to smell alcohol on you and get upset when you get home, give it here."

Gordon let out a small, reluctant sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly as he handed over the beer. "Alright, alright. It's bad enough I have someone keeping tabs on me at home. Now I've got you watching me out here too."

Dean didn't hesitate, pouring the beer onto the pavement without a second thought. The liquid splashed against the ground, the faint smell of hops mixing with the night air. "I managed to get some useful information from Ivy. About this whole incident—we might be able to work with her."

Gordon nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Ivy's not entirely bad at heart," he said after a pause. "Her intentions can sometimes be noble, but her methods? Way too extreme. If she could find some balance, she'd be a valuable ally."

Hearing that, Dean smirked faintly. "Glad to see we're on the same page, Commissioner. Just leave this one to me."

He turned on his heel and hurried off, leaving Gordon standing there, watching as he headed toward Ham. The Commissioner shook his head slightly, a mix of concern and trust flickering across his face.

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The heavy door to Poison Ivy's cell creaked open, the sound echoing through the sterile halls of Arkham. Bright, artificial light spilled into the room, causing her to squint against its harshness.

Two guards entered, their uniforms stiff and impersonal. Between them, they carried a potted aloe vera plant and a small sunflower in a plain terracotta pot. Without a word, they set the plants down in the corner of the room and turned to leave.

"What's this supposed to mean?" Ivy's voice cut through the silence, sharp and suspicious. Her emerald-green eyes narrowed, darting between the guards and the plants. She knew Arkham's staff weren't known for their kindness. This had to be some kind of trick.

One of the guards paused, a sheepish look crossing his face. He slapped his forehead theatrically, as if just remembering something. "Oh yeah, almost forgot. I've got a message for you…"

Before climbing into the patrol car for the night, Dean paused, patting his uniform absentmindedly. His fingers brushed against something small and smooth in his pocket—a single sunflower seed and a tiny tracker.

He chuckled to himself, shaking his head at the discovery. "A sunflower seed and a tracker. About the same level of utility in this situation."

Looking up, he turned to Gordon with a grin. "I suggested to Ham that we put a few plants in Ivy's cell. It might help reduce her hostility toward the staff."

Gordon raised a skeptical eyebrow. "You're serious? You do realize she can control plants, right? Giving her potted ones is like handing her the keys to escape. Ham would never go for it."

Dean shrugged, his grin widening. "Oh, he agreed. On one condition: if she uses them to escape, she loses the privilege permanently. And if Ivy's got any brains, she won't take the risk."

Inside her cell, Ivy sat cross-legged on the edge of her cot, her gaze fixed on the two plants. The guard's message lingered in her mind, and she contemplated the situation carefully.

After a moment, her lips curved into a sly smile. "Fine," she said, her voice carrying a note of amusement. "But I've got one more condition. Last time I was out, I saw those pitiful plants in your office. Clearly, you people have no idea how to care for them. Hand them over to me."

Her logic was sound. If Dean had thought this far ahead, she could easily see the same risks and rewards. Escaping Arkham only to be caught by Batman within a week was a cycle she knew all too well. Spending time in Arkham had become one of the longest-standing constants in her life, and she wasn't about to jeopardize the rare comfort of having plants for company.

Dean's voice echoed in her mind. "Unless she thinks she can avoid capture forever, she won't misuse this privilege."

He was right. She couldn't avoid Batman—not forever. And with Dean now in the mix, the odds were even slimmer.

Dean stood on the edge of Arkham's property, his gaze lingering on the ominous silhouette of the building in the distance. The mist curling around its edges gave it a sinister, almost otherworldly appearance, its lights glowing faintly like malevolent eyes.

"This is insurance," he murmured to himself, his voice barely audible above the gentle night breeze.

Slipping the tracker and sunflower seed back into his pocket, Dean turned his attention to the small figure resting against his chest. Manaphy, exhausted from the day's events, had fallen into a deep sleep. The little creature's soft breathing was steady and calm, its tiny body rising and falling in rhythm.

A patch of drool spread across Dean's uniform, but he didn't seem to care. He gently adjusted the Pokémon, his mind racing as he pieced together the threads of the mystery before him.

"The Prince of the Sea…" he muttered, his thoughts growing heavier. If this legendary Pokémon was truly what he suspected, then Manaphy was more than just a pawn in this game. Poison Ivy's intel had only scratched the surface, hinting at a much larger and more dangerous force at play.

"A red figure… one that makes the green of all things tremble."

Dean clenched his jaw, his mind racing. He could only think of one person when it came to that description.

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Back in his room, Dean leaned against the desk, the weight of the day settling over him. He let out a long sigh before pulling out his phone. The quiet hum of the city outside was a stark contrast to the chaos that had unfolded earlier.

He scrolled through his contacts and hit dial. The line rang twice before a familiar voice answered.

"Hello, this is Barry Allen. Who's—"

"It's only been three days," Dean interrupted, his tone dripping with mock annoyance. "Don't tell me you've already forgotten my number, *Forensic Examiner Barry.*" He deliberately stretched out the words, smirking to himself.

Barry, who's about to bite into a chocolate bar, froze. He quickly set it down, wiping his mouth as he grinned. "A day without you feels like three years, buddy. Isn't that what you always say?"

Dean rolled his eyes, though there was a faint chuckle in his tone. "Don't act like you've been worried. If you thought something happened to me, you'd have been here in half a second."

Barry leaned back in his chair, casually spinning in place. "True enough. Besides, if you're calling me now, you're obviously fine. What's been going on in Gotham? It's been radio silence on your end."

"It's been… very eventful," Dean replied, his voice dropping slightly. "I'll explain everything later. Right now, I need your help with something."

Barry feigned a dramatic sigh, tossing the wrapper from his chocolate bar into the trash at lightning speed. "I knew it. You never call unless you need something. Fine, what is it?"

Dean's tone grew serious. "Have you noticed anything unusual about The Flash recently? Anything out of the ordinary in his behavior?"

Barry paused, genuinely considering the question. He quickly replayed the past few days in his mind: racing through Central City to save people from burning buildings, stopping a few robberies, eating a lot of hot dogs, spending time with Iris, and, of course, more hot dogs.

"Nope, nothing weird," Barry replied casually. "The same as always."

Dean exhaled, relieved. "Good. But keep an eye on him. When I get back to Central City, we're going to investigate this together. Barry, let's catch The Flash."

Barry nearly choked on the air he was breathing. "Excuse me? Did you just say we're going to *catch* The Flash? Dean, do you even hear yourself right now?"

"It's not what you think!" Dean snapped, already anticipating the teasing. "This is about justice, not some petty grudge."

Barry grinned, leaning forward as he replied, "Dean, come on. You've been holding this weird vendetta against The Flash for years. Admit it—it's because he has more fans, runs faster than you, is a nicer guy, and maybe—just *maybe*—he's stolen your thunder a few times."

Dean's fists clenched at the string of jabs. "That's beside the point. Just do what I asked, okay?"

Barry laughed, though he reluctantly agreed. "Fine, fine. But only because you've clearly got something serious going on."

As the call ended, Dean tossed the phone onto the desk and leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair.

A faint flicker of movement caught Dean's attention. His eyes shifted toward the shadows in the corner of the room, where the faint outline of a figure seemed to merge with the darkness.

"Batman," Dean muttered under his breath, the name slipping from his lips like an accusation.

The figure remained still, cloaked in the dim light filtering through the window. Dean's eyes narrowed as he assessed the silence.

Had Bruce been watching him the whole time? Perhaps he was too preoccupied with Damian, or maybe he simply didn't feel the need to reveal himself. Either way, the silent observer was clearly there for a reason.

Dean's mind raced. 'He knows. He heard everything I said to Poison Ivy.'

Turning his attention to the window, Dean stared at the full moon hanging high in the sky. Its silvery light bathed the city, casting long shadows that danced with an eerie rhythm.

"The fifteenth," Dean murmured to himself, noting the date.

His voice grew quieter, almost as though he were addressing the invisible figure in the corner. "You heard it all, didn't you, Batman?"

The room fell into silence once more. Dean's gaze lingered on the city below, its chaos and beauty reflected in his conflicted eyes.

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