2012-11-17 Letter of Introduction

Finnigan's Pub sees a rather predictable rotation of business, typically following the shift changes of the nearby GCPD Precinct 1 Headquarters. It's pretty easy to tell the difference between the types of off-duty cops who hang out there. There are those who are honest workers, just looking to decompress after a long and stressful day with a frothy beer. There are those ornery cops, sometimes good, sometimes crooked, who come here to fraternize with the females and go home drunker than their badge should permit. Then, there are those who come here to keep an eye on the kids, so to speak.

That's Jim Gordon.

No stranger to drinking, Gordon has been sitting at a booth with Detective Benson from the MCU division, splitting his attention between the conversation and his parental watching of the drinking cops. At one point, Gordon quietly excuses himself, taking his beer and trench coat to the back patio for a smoke. He slips out into the cold Gotham evening, slipping a cigarette loose and popping it into his mouth. The first drag is taken in deep, then, with a sigh, he releases the toxin into the cold air and leans up against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment.

Jim's not going to be alone for long, as, a few minutes after he walks out there, the door bursts open, and a female cop, still in uniform, quickly walks back over to the edge of the patio, hands shaking just for a moment before she can grip the railing, head leaning over, giving that heavy breathing of someone who make be a little sick to their stomach does when waiting for the vomit to just come up already. The brief view of her uniform shows she lacks any stripes on her sleeve, so at the very least she's not a veteran. She mutters something to herself, as well.

"Fucking... idiot. You couldn't even stay there. What the fuck are you doing here, anyway?"

Well, that's sure to get the Commissioner's attention.

Gordon raises an eyebrow, simply watching for a moment as she tries to get sick. He takes another drag of his cigarette, blows the smoke away, then leaves his beer alone on a table before crossing toward the other side of the patio. "Ah, excuse me, officer?" he calls out. "Is there something wrong?" He makes sure to speak before getting close, so as not to startle her.

The woman takes another deep breath, and doesn't seem startled by the call of the person behind her. It seems she had noticed the presence, at least. She takes another breath, before turning her head. "N-no, it's fine, just.... something from inside. There's not a problem here." She says, before turning around at another breath. One can almost seem the moment the person in front of her registers in her brain, her eyes widening, her entire body almost locking up, and it's a few more moments before she can speak. "Oh... Oh, God, sir, I'm sorry, I didn't... I mean, I didn't see it was you out.. or... I'll..." She looks over to the door, swallowing, that slightly nasueas look on her face that was there first incredibly pronounced now, as she turns back to the railing. "I just need a minute here... the... ladies room should be free by then."

She doesn't sound drunk, and there's no mark of commendation on her uniform, the thing professional starched, the all weather coat above it brand new, the leathergear at her belt showing very little signs of wear. She didn't look too young, but she might have well been wearing a 'Hi! I'm a Training Employee' mark above the nameplate that says 'Moore'.

Raising a hand, Gordon tries to calm her nerves. "Hey, look, it's alright." He cranes his neck a bit until he can see her nameplate, while certainly not noticing the remarkable new-ness of her gear. "Officer Moore." For a long moment he studies her, not smelling any obscene amounts of alcohol, nor noticing the telltale sway and slur of a person who's imbibed too much. Eyes narrow behind spectacles, and the older man motions toward the bar. "Listen, if there's some sort of problem inside - if it's another officer - well I need to know about it." He steps up alongside of her, leaning his cigarette-wielding arm upon the railing as he turns to face her with an expectant look on his face.

The woman starts shaking hear head vigourously as soon as she understands the question, her shaky voice carrying certainity at least on that fact. "I'm really... really sorry, sir, and no, no, it's... well, it's not really their fault. They just... I mean, they've been here longer, so maybe they've seen more of that sort of sh-" She cuts herself off quickly to replace the wor. "Stuff. I haven't, though, and it's just sticking in my head about how that guy was just... it was just a bit of the... spine, but otherwise he was right in ha-" She seems to heave suddenly, her mouth getting covered by her hand turning quickly over to the railing, before retching again, the undignified sight, sound, smell... or, rather, everything about someone throwing up immediatly evident unless Gordon looks away. There's a shaky intake of breath following it, and then a groan of abject dispair of what she just did, and who she was in front of.

For a moment, Gordon seems confused. However, he eventually remembers the report of a body found, and... ah yes, he pieces it all together. Suddenly, the stern expression softens, and he reaches out a fatherly hand to place on the officer's shoulder while she wretches.

Waiting patiently until she's done, the Commissioner pats her twice, before turning back to face her again. "Don't think any less of yourself, Moore." He looks inside for a moment, frowning. "You're right, most of those guys have been at this longer, and we get jaded. It's bad." Looking back to her, he adds, "Lot of them will tell you to toughen up, but believe me, that's not always... the best thing."

The woman heaves once more, but given the current time, she may not have gotten anything to eat /just/ yet inside. Certainly it was a small favor, given the situation she found herself in. "Not... It isn't? I can't keep.... /doing/ this everytime I see a... a body like that. This is Gotham! I could have... could have gone to Trenton, or Edison if I didn't... I mean, if I knew I couldn't handle it. I'm supposed to be tougher than this, supposed to be /better/, and I end up puking in front of the f..." She pauses again, but probably decides it isn't worth it, "fucking head of the Department two weeks in! How..." She's yelling, and knows it, as she swallows and lowers her voice. "How would... not... toughening up be better then not doing... /this/?"

It is with a smile that Gordon observes the officer's reaction and response. "Hey, they don't pay me to be the department psychiatrist, you know," he answers. It's an effort to lighten the mood, but it's short lived. "Honestly, though, this... whole being a cop thing? It's incredibly complicated." He leans over a bit, leveling a finger toward Moore in an effort to highlight the severity of his next words. "But very important that you tackle the challenges well."

Leaning away, the Commissioner removes a notepad from within his trench coat. He's a bit old fashioned that way. Casting the cigarette aside, he stomps it out while flicking out a pen. "I'm going to schedule a time for you to meet with Doctor Holloway." He looks up at her, interjecting any complaint she may have. "Don't worry, every damned officer in this force has seen Holloway, including myself."

Moore just seems to be even more embarassed at the clarification of Gordon's position, gritting her teeth and seeming to mentally kicks herself, even as she responds with a slight smile, a nervous on, in front of Gordon. She seems to respond a lot better to the general advice that's given, her body seeming to untense just a bit as she's told there's no clearcut answer to being a police officer. "Yes... yes, sir. Certainly, I... I'm not going to give up, I know that much. I didn't... I didn't mean to imply that." She says, before she looks a mix of suprised and aungished at the need for a psychologist. "I..." She blinks. "You've seen them? But..." She pauses, and then lets out a lot of air, and gives a much more geniune smile, a shaky one. "I... suppose I should have figured that." She says, before looking a bit unsure. "There's just... well, one thing. The... the report? It... I remember, it said the guy.. the guy was apparantly homeless." She seems to be trying to remember exactly how it was written. "That it appeared to be an... industrial accident. And that Detective Gains was the supervising inspector, and Officers Townes, Ramariez, and Nichols were there to provide access control, right?"

"Of course I have," clarifies Gordon with a smirk. "Hell, it's Gotham City. We're cops. We see some pretty serious shit, the shrinks have just as hard of a job as us." He begins motioning back inside, when she suddenly brings up the report. Gordon turns back slowly, perking a bushy eyebrow. "Gains?" he asks. "Honestly, Moore, I don't read every report that's out there. I only caught a glimpse of it." He stuffs the notepad away before stuffing hands into pockets beneath the trench. "Why do you ask?" Oh he's not annoyed, not in the slightest, but if an officer is willing to bring up a report to him, there must be a good reason.

Moore gives a nod to that, one that's strong, indicating she feels /no/ need to disagree with a point that's being made. "I know, I know... I guess I just didn't figure... people like you, or some of the older detectives... ever needing it." She says, before looking slightly downcast at the mention of the report. "Well, it's... you may want to take a look at the report, sir. Because... well, the thing is." She halts for a moment. "It's just that that, not once, anywhere in it..."

And suddenly, Moore smiles. It's not a nervous smile, or a shaky one, or one that shows good humor being used as a release valve. It's a calm, confident smile of someone completely in control of the situation. Her body langauge changes at the same time, going from tense and apprehensive to relaxed and uncoiled, professional, and, once again, in control. "Did that report mention an officer named Moore."

From behind Gordon, there's a slightly distored male voice. "You always have to be so goddamn dramatic, Hepburn."

Gordon blinks twice, and suspicion enters his eyes. He seems to recoil just a bit when she makes her confession, for it could mean any number of things. However, before he can draw any of those conclusions, there's a voice behind him.

With a swift turn, Gordon peers the other way, while reaching for the sidearm that's concealed beneath his trench coat, to see where the voice is coming from.

Behind Gordon, there's a man near the urban shadows near the patio, dressed tactical gear, at least visually indistingishable from the type Gotham's SWAT officers would wear, right down to the 'SWAT' markings on the back and the uniform's shoulder patchs. The tactical vest at his front looks to be full, and the M4 hanging from a tactical sling at his front doesn't look particularly costume. His face, of course, is covered by a balaclava, only his eyes visable, and his voice still carried that tell-tale distortion as he seemed to ignore Gordon's hand, addressing the man himself. I mean, seriously. I give her a simple order of keeping you out here until we're in position, and she decides to make a production out of it like we're about to start handing out playbills in the pub."

'Moore' gives a histronic sigh. "I didn't sign up for this job to play the mundane and commonplace, boss. We've got enough neophytes doing that as it is. If I am given a job, I like to take pride in it and give people a /show/."

The man sighs. "I suppose I can't argue with that." He says, before waving a hand. "Oh, and come on, Mr. Gordon. If I wanted to kill you, I could have already shot you in the back, had Hepburn try, or use that sniper that just got in position. If I wanted to /kidnap/ you, hell, she's gotten close enough to jab you with a syringe already. I'm just here to talk."

Slowly, Gordon removes his hands from beneath the trench, showing them in a sign of peace. However, he's studying the individual carefully, only momentarily looking away to glance at the female officer nearby. "Alright, then, you have my attention," he speaks up, looking back to the SWAT impersonator with a forceful voice. He slowly closes the distance between them, though making a point to stop about halfway between. "Let's talk. First, who the hell are you, and second, why the charade?" He gestures about. "You -must- know where my office is!"

He's not happy. Certainly not happy. It was enough that Batman pulled stunts like these, but at least he pulled them off alone. Nor was he an enemy. These people?

Unknown.

For his part, the man in front keeps his hands away from the rifle, simply letting it hang down at his front. A cursory look behind Gordon will reveal 'Moore' has her hands folded behind her back, away from the standard issue automatic at her hip. The man speaks again, shaking his head. "I suppose if I was from some podunk agency I could simply make an appointment with your secretary, walk into your office in a rumpled suit, and circulate some memos about interagency cooperation, but that's just not how people like us work, Commissioner. At least not at the beggining. I needed to get you somewhere that was seculded, with an escape route, and where a hidden face wouldn't be immediatly suspicious. It's not like I had a lot of options, but at least you went out back yourself. I was thinking Hepburn here would have to lure you out."

He pauses for a moment. "Though, I suppose I've done enough of the dramatic bullshit myself. The woman behind you is Agent Hepburn. I'm Agent Geiger. We're with S.H.I.E.L.D. This is sort of a... letter of introduction.

The fact that they both have kept their hands away from the sidearms is the first inclination Gordon has that they do not mean harm. When at last the man identifies himself as being with S.H.I.E.L.D., the Commissioner visibly relaxes. "Jesus Christ, you could have just said so," he mutters. Turning, Gordon eyes the woman for a moment. "Hepburn." Then, he looks back over to the SWAT officer. "Geiger. Right." A coy smirk forms on his face.

Now needing another smoke, Gordon retrieves the pack of Pall Mall's from within his trench and lights up. "Well, it's about time you people made contact with me. We've got problems. On a few different fronts. But, I'm sure you already know all about that, so, lets go ahead and cut to the chase. You've got me... what do you need from me?" He shakes his head. "Anything, it's yours."

Geiger pauses for a moment as Gordon seems to relax, and he can't help but broadcast some minor suprise, his eyes flickering over to Hepburn behind, who gives a raise of her eyebrows, and a shurg herself. "Well... first, Hepburn. Gordon's people are going to start asking questions, soon. Get in there and give me some warning."

Hepburn nods. "Of course, boss. A pleasure to meet you, Commissioner." She says, another smile on her face, before she takes a deep breath, and her body tenses up again, the nervous rookie cop returning as her face turns back to uncertainty and concern, before going back into the bar.

Geiger continues once she's gone. "I suppose I could have. But Hepburn is right in the fact that playing the part of a super secret agent is one of the rare pleasures of this job. Yes, the names aren't real. Last time I checked, I never read an intelligence intercept of the Batman walking into your office, talking off his mask, and handing you a bussiness card. I have my own need for an intact cover."

Another pause. "Admittedly, I am a bit... well, suprised on the attitude. Was expecting a little bit more hostility, though I suppose I'm more used to the muncipals abroad then back here. I'm not the FBI, either... I can't take resources from you, openly, not without risking our own facilities and cover. My job here is to monitor and interdict organized criminal elements in order to ensure the general collective security of all UN member-states. We'll set up a channel of communication, but the most I might need from you are a few officers in the right place, and the right time.

"And a few badge and cruiser numbers you won't mind someone else using."

Before Hepburn departs, Gordon turns to her and nods his head. "Pleasure is mine. Oh, and make sure you make that appointment. I can't have someone pretending to be a nervous wreck without having her see Holloway."

Turning back to Geiger, Gordon considers the irony of his secret alliance with the Batman. A wry smirk twists its way onto his face. "Alright, I'll give you that." He closes the distance so as to make things a bit more comfortable, though he's sure to blow his cigarette smoke quite far away from the agent.

"Listen," he defends, "I've been doing this long enough to recognize a ruse when I see it. I'll need -some- kind of official document, or, something, if I'm going to permit this kind of connection." A small laugh escapes from beneath his mustache. "I mean, not that just anyone could pull off the mimicry you guys have spun, but, you know, I need -something-."

A stern expression sets in on Gordon's face, as if to suggest that this one will be non-negotiable, as far as he's concerned.

Martin Kavanagh gives a quick nod over to Gordon. "Oh, of course. I'll have it delivered to you with the proper credentials. Minus our names, certainly. But given that all I've given you so far is an actress and a man dressed in uniforms I could have bribed someone to get, I understand you want to verify that I'm not actually working for the Falcones. Even if they'd probably pay better. To tell you the truth, we'd be doing the same thing even if you said no... but I've got enough problems keeping to cover without having to worry about muncipals trying to connect the dots."

He gives a nod, before adding. "We can work out the particulars through correspondence... but I do need to ask something. How... well do you know the Batman?"

Gordon nods in a satisfied way and says, "Thanks for understanding. Believe me, this will remain... discreet." His eyes squint slightly, and for a moment, there is quiet between them. "Like my acquaintanceship with the Batman."

On that subject...

Gordon sighs a bit, pausing to take another drag of his cigarette. It's fortunate that the weather was chilly; it will keep his unfinished beer, left behind on the table, nice and cold. But that's not where his thoughts are - they are upon this S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, and how in the hell he knew that Batman had a working relationship with Gordon.

"Well enough to trust him," he finally answers. "I know that his methods can sometimes be... -extreme-... but it's Gotham. He does the sort of thing I can't."

Geiger stands still, in silence. "That much I guessed. Someone like that needs contacts in the Police Department... And I suppose you wouldn't tell me if he was one of your officers. I don't think your security's good enough to keep me from finding out if he's actually a concept working out of your department, however, so that's a... easy point to disprove."

He opens his mouth again, before cocking his head. "I'd ask more, but your friends are in motion. Good to meet you, Commissioner. And we'll be in touch." And with that, he's backing up, around a wall, and to clearance, never saying that, with the security Batman had... he could have been Gordon himself, and he wouldn't know a damn thing about it.