2013-01-17 I'll See What I Can Dig Up

Jim Gordon didn't have the best town house in Gotham City, but as the leading man for the GCPD, his salary was nothing to be embarrassed about. The Lower East Side was often considered upper middle class, but Gordon and his daughter, Barbara, have lived in the same place for years. A small, two bedroom spot, with bedrooms on the top floor, a couple of rooms on the ground, and a little back patio where Gordon often goes to smoke.

The Commissioner sits in his living room as the night rolls on, unable to sleep, in spite of the second bottle of beer sitting on the coffee table before him. The television is showing an episode of "Walker: Texas Ranger" - a show many of the boys in blue like to talk about, but one that Gordon has never seen. A particularly derisive scowl is on his face as he watches Chuck Norris giving a good roundhouse kick to an otherwise poorly written and played villain.

"Jesus... Christ."

Gordon stands, leaving the television on while snatching up his bottle and heading toward that back patio, where he lights up a smoke and hunkers down inside a leather jacket to keep warm.

Over the years, certain patterns have become apparent to the Dark Knight. Poison Ivy's murderous breaks with reality and dreams of a plant-ruled utopia, the Joker's ever escalating rampages-- the Clown Prince's crimesprees and mad master plans, then there's Jim Gordon's smoking habit. It's hardly on the level of the other intricate causal relationships, but Gordon's trip to the porch was inevitable by measure of more than the cheese content of his TV shows.

Members of Batman's team have been surveilling Gordon since he was attacked, running counterintelligence against anyone choosing to do the same; but tonight, it's the Dark Knight who locks down the location. The Joker's back in Arkham, the mob is ominously quiet. "We need to talk." It's a familiar refrain.

On unheard frequencies, jammers fire up and transmit ultrasound to baffle any other listening devices trained on the head of the GCPD. "How are you feeling?" It's scarcely warmer than the first foreboding notice, except perhaps in content. Somehow, Batman stands at the back corner of that secluded patio, his back to Gordon's house; as if he'd been waiting there for him.

Except, of course, Jim would've had to pass by to light his smoke, and that's impossible.

By now, Gordon has gotten so used to these encounters that he barely even jumps. Startled, yes, enough to pause in lighting his smoke and close his eyes to suppress a sigh. His eyes briefly rise toward the window into his daughter's bedroom, which is still dimly lit by the glow of a computer screen, before he returns to looking at the masked crusader from behind.

"Surprisingly well," he answers. "Thanks to a little help from a guy who calls himself 'The Sentinel'." There is a brief pause as Gordon lights the cigarette, then takes a few steps to bring himself closer.

"You ever seen the show, 'Walker: Texas Ranger'?" he asks, as if small talk were something these two ever shared. "Terrible show." In truth, the last thing he wanted was to discuss matters of safety and security in Gotham. Not with budget shortfalls, politics, and a police force now dwindled in numbers due to cop killings, with no sign of fresh recruits coming any time soon.

"A healer?" As averse as Gordon seems to be to discussing all the hard topics, Batman is all but zeroed in on them as they arise, or have arisen. "What else do you know about him?" There's a certain ease in the Dark Knight's stature that few see; despite his intimidating mantle, Batman leans easily, rests one arm over the other, surveying the backyard as much as Jim himself.

"You're still being watched, Jim." By men who don't work with Gotham's Knight or his allies, as far as the Bat has been able to discern. The grim tones carry somewhat alarming implications.. after all, they have yet to learn Bane's intentions. "I don't think you're the target, but that's not going to stop people like this." They've used the Commissioner once, after all.

"Tell me everything you can remember about the man who took you from the Joker." The million dollar question, really. What did Jim discern about his own predicament? Batman learned years ago to trust Gordon's abilities. "He has to be the one who had your phone tapped."

"That's just the start of it," answers Gordon. "Some kind of..." He pauses, visibly having a difficult time dragging the word from his brain to his voice. "... super-human."

Wince.

"He showed up when I was, uh, -released-. Formed some kind of green shielding over the roof of that building in Chinatown. Then, once the police showed up, he just -took off-." With wide eyes that seem to almost mock the gesture, Jim shoots his hand up into the air. "Flew away, up into the sky. Didn't see any rockets or anything." He shakes his head and takes a drag of the cigarette. "Seems harmless enough, honestly. He dropped off some poor old lady and the muggers who attacked him a few weeks ago." A shrug is all that follows. "Says he grew up in Gotham, but I've got no names other than, 'Sentinel'."

Much as he'd rather be discussing the horrible acting of Chuck Norris, the Commissioner lets that subject drop in favor of more important matters. He leans up against the guardrail separating his patio from the small, fenced in back yard beyond, and turns slightly to face the Batman. "Christ, my -phone- was tapped? Well, that explains a few things. Good thing the Joker shot it when Ms. Kyle had it in her pocket, I guess." A momentary glance is spared inside. Was his new phone tapped as well? Did he have a ticking time bomb resting idly on his coffee table?

"The man who took me was big. I mean, -big-, like he'd been dosing himself for a while. He wore some kind of strange mask on his face, had tubes from it running into his body. Made his voice sound pretty screwed up. He wanted to know about our communication methods. I of course told him nothing. Said it was a one way street." He perks an eyebrow, for it really was that way, wasn't it? Aside from the little calling card perched atop the District One Headquarters, of course.

"Green shield, hmm?" It's a rhetorical echo. Clearly, the Batman has his own ideas about this Sentinel. That, or something in Gordon's account amuses him; it's always difficult to tell. "Long as he's on our side." And keeps it between their very particular lines-- that's always a dealbreaker in Gotham City. Batman doesn't have to tell James Gordon that, however.

"Briefly-- we locked it down after the interloper intercepted several messages coming to your device from the Network." Batman doesn't call /anything/ bat-whatnot, it's worth noting. "Long enough for them to clue in to your uncanny intuition on that case-- and our operating protocols. It felt like a test."

All of this leaves the Dark Knight somewhere between wary, and curious. Gordon's interrogation does nothing to allay that fear, instead of everything to confirm it. "I'm going to hurt this bulldozer, Jim." Beat. "What else did he say?" No monologue? No blathering threats? This. is. Gotham.

"On our side," answers Gordon with more than enough sarcasm in his tone. Another puff of the cigarette its taken, its second-hand smoke pointedly blown away from the masked visitor. "He seems to be one of the good ones. Also, he -does- understand the standing order to arrest all vigilantes on sight." Sarcasm becomes a smirk, for Jim wasn't going anywhere near his gun. Nor did he check to see if his neighbors were watching. Batman didn't miss things like that.

"It's a woman you're looking for," he adds. "This interloper. She showed up the night I was released. Kept to the shadows, real paranoid type, said she was someone 'with a job to do' before taking off." He shakes his head. "I never got a good look at her, it was too dark. Or -she- was too dark. Struck me as the well trained type. Bounty hunter, mercenary, something like that." He levels his cigarette wielding hand toward the Batman. "You find her, you might be able to get a lead on our little pal from the WWE."

On that subject...

Once again, the Commissioner seems to sober up, which is an irony as he moves away to grab the cold bottle of beer from where he'd set it near the patio door. He takes a good long pull from its contents, secretly hoping that it would help to settle him down once Batman pulls the inevitable disappearing act. "He said a few things, all right." The beer is replaced, the cigarette is puffed on. "Made a few veiled threats, about what he was going to do to us, and to the city. Now, listen, I'm not convinced he's got it out for you personally, not like the Joker, but he -wanted- me to tell you about my encounter with him." A bushy eyebrow shoots up into the air. "He wants you to know who he is, at least, what he showed to me. He's playing mind games, and I can only guess he has something big in store. Public unrest, a high influence assassination, -something-."

"If he's juicing on some kind of designer steroid or stimulant, he'll be as obsessive and arrogant as any other junkie." Which might be underestimating the Dark Knight's quarry-- or hitting the nail dangerously close to home right out of the gate. The Bat is known for both. He doesn't underestimate anyone enough to cut corners when it comes to Jim Gordon's security, however-- his own people have been personally seeing to spykilling operations related to this particular threat. It's a high compliment, and the Bat doesn't train fools.. or chase fool's errands.

With the Joker away, it might even be pressing enough to remain priority one, Gotham willing. "What are his threats towards Gotham?" The specifics may or may not clue the Dark Knight in, but he gathers the details like a hoarder with expired coupons nonetheless.

Batman has learned to trust Gordon's intuition, though-- if Jim says Bane is up to something large and deadly, it behooves the Caped Crusader to pause a moment and listen. "If we can predict his next move or draw him out..." It may not even get to 'big'. The Bat hasn't lived this long relying on his good fortune, however; he would have never made it past eight.

There is no disagreement from Gordon in regards to obsessive steroid, or other drug uses, and their effects on the user. Jim knew it well. How many junkies had he pulled from the gutters and sent to Methadone Clinics to get cleaned up? There is a quiet shake of his head as he considers the terror addicts face, both within themselves and also at the hands of the law.

He's also seen thugs hopped up on speed capable of a few particular terrors of their own.

"Who knows?" answers Gordon. "Maybe he views Gotham like some kind of easy target. Figures it's the kind of place he can put a crown on. You and I know he wouldn't be the only one to go down that road. Either way, if you want to try and draw him out, I'd keep a few sets of eyes on Gotham's movers and shakers. Think... think men like the Mayor, Bruce Wayne, hell, even the District Attorney. He might even come after me again."

As if in afterthought, Jim reaches into his jacket while exhaling a final puff of his cigarette. "Take this," he offers. It's a business card, with the name 'Sentinel' and a telephone number. "Sentinel left it for me. Local number, forwarded to the Caymans, all protected by shielded attorneys and what not." A grin curls at the corner of his mouth. "Sounds kind of familiar. Anyway, you just might want to get in touch with him, see where he stands. We might need his help, if push comes to shove."

"I already know where to look." The Batman notes evenly, confidently. There's one prominent suspect he has who, if she doesn't know the mercenary hired by Bane? Probably /is/ the mercenary hired by Bane. Either way works for the Dark Knight, in this instance. "If he thinks Gotham is a soft target, he's not as smart as he thinks he is." Batman appends in response to Jim's theory.

The offered card is slipped away into a hidden compartment within his cape for later study, barely glanced at immediately-- though indeed, that may be all the Caped Crusader needs to commit the number to memory. "I'll see what I can dig up." It's not exactly like him to ask for someone's help, per se, is it? Besides, he doesn't even know if this Sentinel should be trusted.. much less relied upon.

Of course, Gordon does propose one particularly unique challenge in the list of disturbing scenarios to concern himself with: this drug-fueled crimelord targetting Bruce Wayne. It's high on the list of Batman's concerns and considerations as he silently swings away from the Gordon household, three small gyroscopic drones whizzing away nigh invisibly into the night on similarly whispering rotors, their jamming mission complete with the Dark Knight's disappearing trick.

"I'll see what -I- can dig up." Gordon pinches the cigarette out, then tosses it into a little trash bin he'd left outside just for that purpose. His neck, already craned to watch as Batman departs, turns just enough to notice that the glow from a computer screen in his daughter's room has gone out. With a quiet sigh, he goes back inside... and makes plans to visit his FBI and DEA contacts in New York again.