Novel & Cerita Gotham Detective Bullock

The very place that had ‘disposed’ of my parents’ estate. I looked up to tell him, but found him leaning over me, his hand resting on the back of my chair, effectively caging me. "Efficient," he murmured, his breath brushing the nape of my neck. My skin broke out in goosebumps. "But be careful, Ebu. Looking too closely at a ledger can sometimes lead to a very short life." Before I could answer, the glass door rattled. A man in a sleek, grey coat stood there—Detective Rowan Black of the Valemont Watch. He held a badge that shimmered with anti-glamour wards. Behind him were two enforcement wolves.

His body was refined with thick muscles, giving him a well-built physique. With a serious expression, he walked up to Ivy and Zack, extending his hand towards Zack for a shake. "It's an honor to meet Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. I'm Detective Callus, Detective Finn's new partner." Zack took his hand without a word of pleasantry. His eyes darted between Finn and Bryan. Bryan nodded, with an unspoken explanation. "I have briefed him on everything," he told Zack before glancing at Stella, who was silently watching the scene unfold. A chuckle escaped her lips, rolling her eyes in disgust. "You all won't get anything from me..."

Detective Sullivan attempted his way over towards me, but barely passed Elizabeth when Captain Johnston’s voice was heard throughout the room. “Anderson! My office!” I take one last look at Elizabeth before sulking my way into his office. “Captain.” I say shaking his hand. “Detective Anderson. I didn’t expect to see you back in my office, let alone my squad room. How have you been?” His calm demeanor taking me by surprise. I half expected the same reaction I had gotten from Elizabeth. The way I left everything; I was amazed he wasn’t yelling down my throat.

I responded immediately. He laughed at that, but then took on a serious pensive look. That rattled me a bit. Gboyega was never pensive, he was always smiling and carefree. "You need a detective and I know just the one. He's very good at his job too. Very discreet. He's like a blood hound. He'll dig up all the dirt on anyone, even details that have been hidden in the past." I looked at him, understanding hit me at his words. I knew exactly what he was talking about. He probably used him to get dirt about people he did business with.

He scowled loudly and detective try to made some words but couldn't because of the fear. "Actually sir, i haven't done anything. I was busy last night and by mistake i left the office without security." He stuttered. "By mistake you left office and killed the security guards with your hands." Robin asked dangerously making detective eyes snapped open at him. "Boys go and give his body to our doctors so that they could take out his body parts and donate them in our hospital so they could be used by somebody deserving." Robin ordered and 2 people among M14 started to drag the detective.

The man smiles and I study his actions carefully. He could have another weapon, so I have to be careful. “I don’t believe you know me.” The man says, and though I am aiming a weapon at him, he does not seem to have a hint of fear. “Oh, really now?” I answer him sarcastically and he chuckles. “I’m only going to ask you one more time, who the heck are you, buddy?” I add and he sighs. “I’m Oliver Martins, I am a detective and I work with the NYPD.” He confesses and my eyes widen a bit.

She has seen his face connected to a name and a history and a set of actions that span two decades of carefully managed crime. He is not an operative. He is not a muscle sent ahead of the car. He is fifty-eight years old with silver hair kept short and an expensive watch catching the weak light of the service corridor and a scar along his left jawline, faint and old, and he is looking at Elena Vasev with an expression that is not anger and not surprise. It is the expression of a man looking at someone he believed was dead. "Elena," Dominic Reale says. And Elena Vasev, who has not moved and has not lowered her weapon and has not changed her expression by a single degree, says:

He pleaded. "I'm not interested." I said in a serious voice, though it was shaking a little bit. "I’m here because I heard rumors of your detective report, then the hospital incident...The wolves.” My eyes went open in shock. I released him slowly. "How do you know that? He stood up, dusting himself off. "You're pretty strong and rough for a lady...but then again, you're a detective. I should have expected this much." My red eyes were fixed on him, demanding an answer. “Who are you?”

“After all the trouble you’ve caused me? You’re lucky I don’t kill you on the spot.” “Relax, Thorton,” the detective says with a heavy sigh. “I won’t put up a fight. Come, sit. Let’s talk this out like men, huh?” Damien and I exchange a look. We both lower our weapons, albeit slowly. I take the chair across from the detective and study him closely. I’m on edge, ready to leap at a moment’s notice. I underestimated this madman before; I won’t make the same mistake again. I rest the butt of my gun on my knee, pointing it at him in clear view—a warning. “The boy you shot,” I mutter. “From what I understand, he has next to nothing to do with the Mafia. He’s an innocent young man.”

The older man seemed satisfied. Then he reached into his jacket. And removed a flash drive. A small black flash drive. Worn. Scratched. Old. Yet somehow terrifying. "What is that?" David stared at it. "The reason people keep dying." Elsewhere, Chief Inspector Bethwel Kanda's convoy approached from the opposite side of the quarry. The officer had heard the gunfire from several kilometers away. His expression hardened. This was escalating beyond a criminal investigation. This was war. His phone rang. The detective from headquarters.