William looked at Bruce expectantly, but the man steered the conversation back to him again.
"I want to know what happened afterward. How exactly did the suspect die?"
"Do you have any sense of priorities... fine, fine!"
After meeting those cold eyes, William knew he couldn't persuade Batman.
He could only patiently recount what happened next.
At four in the morning, William opened the temporary holding cell's iron door ahead of schedule and watched Morse approach him with a mocking smile.
"Before you shone that Laser Pointer at me, you never imagined I'd walk out of here, did you?"
"Why so quiet, little cop? I bet you're absolutely furious right now."
Seeing William remain silent, Morse grew even more brazen, even reaching out to pat William's cheek.
He failed to notice that William had already undone his watch clasp and was slowly taking it off.
Morse was about to be stuffed into a Paint Can full of cement and dumped in the harbor anyway, so William didn't mind teaching him another painful lesson first.
But not yet. He needed to wait until the man took a few more steps and entered the cameras' blind spot.
Like right now.
"Oi, you piece of shit!"
Morse turned, and his cheekbone met a heavy fist wrapped in a watch.
His body twisted like a corkscrew in an instant. His feet stayed planted while his upper body rotated ninety degrees, and his head slammed into the wall, splitting his scalp open.
William advanced with a grim expression, his fists raining down as a duet of screams and cheers echoed through the room.
The screams came from Morse; the cheers came from the suspects in the neighboring cells.
As it turned out, no matter how strained relations between Gotham's police and civilians were, anyone with