The first light of dawn struggled through Gotham's heavy clouds, falling grudgingly across the entrance to the Eastern District Precinct. The air after the rain carried a chill and the earthy tang of wet soil, but it could not disperse the strange mixture of gunsmoke and blood that had lingered all night.
Wilson and several officers laboriously shifted the last few sandbags blocking the entrance, then carefully dismantled the final "surprise" Nygma had installed on the door hinge-a clever mechanism connected to a flashbang and a pepper spray dispenser.
Creeeak-
With a shrill scrape of metal, the precinct doors, covered in scratches and scorch marks, slowly swung open. The sight outside made even these officers, who had seen just about everything Gotham had to offer, suck in a sharp breath.
Bodies in black stealth gear lay strewn across the open space outside. Some had been charred black by high-voltage shocks, while others snored thunderously under the effects of powerful sedatives. Plenty of unlucky bastards had walked straight into lethal traps, their bodies twisted into unnatural positions. Congealed dark-red blood mingled with rainwater, painting a brutal tableau.
"Holy..." Wilson's mouth hung open, the rest of the sentence catching in his throat. He knew the fighting outside had been fierce last night, but he had not expected anything this spectacular.
Gordon held his cigar, his brow knotted. Picking his way carefully through the obstacles littering the ground, he reached a relatively clear spot, took out his phone, and called the logistics and medical examiner departments at Central Headquarters.
"It's Gordon." His voice was hoarse after a sleepless night. "Outside the Eastern District Precinct. We need a lot of backup. Send at least seven prisoner transport vans. Yes, prisoner transport vans. And... tell the medical examiner's office to send a few extra vehicles