|Vigilante House Call|
|What: Commissioner Gordon gets an unexpected visitor... at his front door.|
It's business as usual in Gotham City. Which, for Commissioner Gordon, means an abundance of crime and politics. At his level, more the latter than the former unless it's crime in the GPD itself. But eventually he decides it's time to leave the office and head home. His escort pulls away once he safely pulls into his parking spot at home and locks up his car. "Good evening, Commissioner." says a voice from the shadows. "Have a moment?"
Gun's still there. Good.
Fortunately, the voice doesn't exactly seem to have the same lunatic or threatening tone that Commissioner Gordon has come to associate with dangerous types. A gloved hand slips free from its place beneath his trench coat, and he pockets the keys after his sedan chirps behind him. The flashing of running lights cast a bit of a glow over the area, and in that moment, Gordon's artificially keen eyes try to make out a face from behind his glasses.
"I suppose I do," he answers into the darkness, while sparing a brief glance toward his home.
Lights are off. Barbara must be out.
"Have a face I can see?" he adds, while reaching into his trench coat to produce a pack of smokes.
"Sorta." is the answer and a figure eventually steps into the light. Except for the lower half of his face, he's wearing some kind of body armor. It's black but not solid black. Night time camo to blend into shifting shadows. "You can call me, Orion. I thought you might want to hear about the train and the ice fromt he other night."
For a moment, Gordon damn near considers going for his service pistol one more time. The cigarette remains perched unlit in his mouth for a hesitant moment, but it's the words spoken next that give him pause.
Instead of a pistol, his hand produces a zippo that is quickly clicked to life. "I would most certainly be interested in hearing about that," he answers, though it's with a cautious tone.
Once the cigarette is lit, Gordon slowly replaces the lighter and leans back against his car, trying to adopt a casual stance. While any number of questions are coming to mind, he lets the other man named Orion speak, for now.
"Your 'arrest vigilantes on sight' order makes it difficult for us to cooperate with the police, you know." Orion points out. "Or even to stick around and give a statement. If you're cold" and it's below freezing, "we can go somewhere warmer."
"I'm working on that," points out the Commissioner, with more than a bit of ire in his voice while pointing the cigarette toward Orion. "You know how difficult it is to tell you people apart?" he asks. "Like... guessing if the friendly voice is a precursor to a broken jaw and a few days in a dark warehouse somewhere."
Jim dismisses the concern about cold with a brief motion of a gloved hand. He'd lived in Gotham for a while, and Chicago before that. The cold, he can handle. "You're talking about the incident on Joyce Street," he assumes, taking a moment to press the armored vigilante for more information. "You were there?"
"Since we can't walk into the precinct or even stick around at the scene, there's not a lot of options." Orion notes with a shrug. "I'd prefer not getting shot at." He shrugs again. "Whatev. Yeah, I was there. So was Batgirl and an android. And Joker and Harlequin."
Something about the voice seems familiar to Gordon, but he just can't seem to pick it out. He puffs another drag of his cigarette before leaning away from the car and taking a few steps closer, for Orion certainly has his attention now. "I suppose you and your friends will need to learn how to be a bit more clever, then," he suggests. Oh, there's certainly a harshness to the way he speaks, but there is also a deliberate suggestion of amiability there too. As if he wants to apologize, but has no desire to change that situation.
"I'm going to take a wild guess. Joker and his crazy mistress were responsible for it all?"
"I could have waited for you in your home but that would have been rude. Not to mention breaking and entering. Or at least entering." At the question, Orion nods. "The explosions, the cars, the water tower, the train, the ice, all of it. Beats the hell out of me why. But they don't really need a reason, do they? They seemed to be having fun."
"Well, thanks for that." Sure, there was sarcasm in Gordon's voice, but -perhaps- he's warming up a bit to Orion. Perhaps.
"I've dealt with them a few times before," Gordon answers. "I think that about sums it up. Never been able to really pin down any motives on them, aside from... well, just that. It's their idea of fun. Also, they're crazy."
"Did you see -anything- out of the ordinary though? Anything that might suggest what their next target might be?"
Orion shakes his head. "Nothing. Unless you count a couple hyenas out of the ordinary. They didn't say anything about future plans or allude to any other targets." He finishes but then adds after a moment "Joker was sick. Doubt it helps but that's the only thing that stood out."
"Sick?" Well, that's something. It certainly seems to pique his interest. "I'd ask if he was pale, but... well." Gordon takes one last drag from the cigarette before extinguishing it on the ground beneath his boot. Suddenly, something seems to cross his mind. "He didn't look... -green-, did he?"
"Just sick." Orion answer then asks "Green? Why?" He studies Gordon a moment before continuing. "Is there something going around I should know about?"
The question brings a friendly laugh to the Commissioner and he shakes his head. "No, no. Nothing like that. I'm just... stretching. Grasping at strings. You know the drill I'm sure." He takes a closer look at the figure before him then as his laughter dies, once again seeming pensive about this whole encounter in his driveway. "Listen, you, uh, want to come inside? Get warm, have a drink?" An eyebrow perks beneath his glasses, for if this guy was anything like his -other- vigilante counterparts...
Orion's visor hides the upper half of his face but enough is visible to display some surprise at the offer. "I'm not cold." he answers after a moment. "But you must be. And I never turn down a drink."
"I'm used to this," answers Gordon. He turns aside and unlocks the door to his house, flicking a light on as he enters. Once Orion enters, he grabs a bottle of scotch from a small wetbar in his meager living room, pouring two glasses. "So, what's the deal?" he asks, while turning around to study the armored man in his living room. "You, Batman, Bat -Girl-... I mean, why can't you guys lobby the state police or Washington for some kind of -official- status, like SHIELD?" He gestures with his glass in a mock toast. "It sure would make my life a hell of a lot easier." A small grin appears beneath his mustache before he lifts the scotch to take a sip.
Walking into Gordon's home, Orion looks around then takes the glass when it's offered and returns the toast before taking a sip. "You'll have to ask Batman to speak for himself. But I'm pretty sure that whatever he'll say, what you're suggesting is easier said than done. How many complaints and lawsuits do you get from criminals who stubbed a toe because of your cops? And you think Jersey is going to license people to run around beating up criminals? We do things you can't which makes us effective in ways you can't be. There's room - and need - for both."
"Fair enough," Gordon has to admit out loud, giving Orion a conceding nod of his head. "But, you know, I'm a cop. Just like the rest of them. -We- have to play by the rules. Can't really blame me if my guys take pot shots at you guys. You know what I mean?" He takes another sip, before motioning toward Orion again. "So, that said, you tell me. What's your goal in all this? I mean, are you just... an interceder, or is there something specific you're targeting?"
"Interceder? Is that even a word? One who intercedes. I guess it is. I don't have an agenda if that's what you're asking." Orion answer. "I can do it, it needs to be done, and it's fun. Everyone wins."
Gordon laughs out loud and shakes his head. "Hell if I know," he offers. Interceder? Hey, he never was that great in grammar school. Orion's response, however, wasn't exactly what Gordon was expecting. He cocks an eyebrow, but doesn't really respond directly to the younger man's answer. "Well. Listen, son. I appreciate the heads up. But... be careful out there." He glances toward his back window, where not long ago, Batman paid him a little visit on his patio. There is a thoughtful silence before he offers, "Something big is coming."
"I'm always careful, Commissioner." Orion replies, turning serious. "It's a large, dangerous galaxy out there full of being with few morals and even fewer ethics. Gotham is just one little bit of it. Though you do have a surprisingly large number of criminals I can only describe as either insane or bordering on it." He glances at the glass then knocks it back. "You also have some bitchin' scotch."
Gordon can certainly appreciate the suddenly serious tone. "Yeah," he murmurs. "I'm still trying to figure that one out."
And then, Orion knocks it back and makes a remark that brings a smirk to the older man's face. "Consider it a parting gift. We'll replay this if you bring me more information. Deal?" He knocks back his own scotch, then sets his glass down and heads for the front door. "Best you scram before my daughter gets home, kid."
"Information for scotch? I'm not that cheap." Orion says with a snort though he does sound amused. Flipping open a compartment by his belt, he pulls out a card and tosses it onto a table. "Broadcast on that frequency if you need to get me. I monitor it. Later, Commish." There's a flash of bright, white light and when the glare clears, he's gone. Wince. Gordon lifts a hand to shield his eyes, and when he lowers the arm, Orion is gone.
"Christ," he curses. "Those... tricks." He slams the door shut and mutters, "How will I explain -that- to the neighbors."