Gotham: Year One

[industrious]

Renee Montoya and Harvey Bullock

Bullock draws his pistol, trains it on Luigi, ensuring the man wouldn't attempt any funny business. Walker was in a different, still locked cell, so they didn't need to worry about him, at least.

Montoya cuffs Luigi's hands behind his back, and marches him to an interrogation room. The ex-mobster takes a seat, as does Bullock.

"Right. As it stands, we can easily convict you of possession of an illegal firearm, and possession of an unregistered firearm. You're looking at at 10 years minimum; max of 25. Any thoughts?"

[industrious]

((More filter problems from DeafNotDumb))

Katherine Walker

Katherine casts a suspicious gaze at Montoya and looks away, muttering under her voice about goddamn certain police officers who didn't know not to be so goddamn obvious about their sex lives in front of other certain police officers who had no goddamn luck. As it was, the best she could do was distract herself with the list of names she'd found.

There were a bunch of strange names that she'd found, and any one of them could have been the right one. Five people was too many, not in the two days in which she wanted to be doing something else.

Some background checks could sort things out quickly. She was pretty sure she'd heard of this H-something Quinzel as some sort of Asylum doctor, but unless she'd been treating and working with the Smiler Katherine couldn't really see what she could have to do with this.

The policewoman grimaced and tried to get into this joker's mind. Considering what little she knew of him the guy had a sense of humor - a twisted, if pretty funny, sense of humor. Any false name he used would have some kind of joke on it, she'd bet.

Leaning forward into the light of the computer, Katherine focused her mind for any clues while her fingers tapped away at the keyboard, checking police databases and internet for any information about these people. At least if she found some first names, that might reveal some godawful pun.

Spoiler

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Gather Information: (1d20+9)[19]
Knowledge: Gotham (1d20+9)[23]
Knowledge: Streetwise (1d20+11)[12]

[Terron]

"I am thinking that you are forgetting the fact that I was almost shot dead in the head by a policewoman. And that I was being a good citizen rescuing Gordon and said policewoman from a building in flames. I'm watching the glass half full instead of half empty officers. So yes, I had this gun, almost everyone in Gotham has an unregistered weapons. It's common knowledge that if you don't have a mean of protecting yourself, you are as good as dead in the streets." shrugged Luigi.

[doliest]

Walker
Walker sits down, concentrating and mumuring a hymm to himself. It was a comforting one, a reaffirming one-one that sang of His Vengeance, descending down on Earth to punish the sinners and heathens, the Archangel Michael swooping through the masses. With that, he let's the world outside his cell come to him.

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ESP-
(1d20+7)[11]

[industrious]

Interrogation Room

Bullock chuckles at Luigi's words, eventually braking off into all-out laughter.

"Really? That's your best defense? Sure I committed those crimes, but I'm really a good person? Guess what, pal," he drawls out the word, making sure that Luigi knows he isn't one.

"The law doesn't care about motive as much as it cares about guilt. And you've got plenty of guilt. The gun charges are just the beginning; I can get you for first degree murder as well. Multiple counts of it. Everything in the holding cells is recorded. And I have no problems in pushing for the death penalty for scum like you."

Bullock slams his fist on the table; the sudden impact leaves a dent on the metal surface.

"I don't care if you hug puppies or saving darling children from burning orphanages. You've killed cops. Your ass is mine, and I have every intention of letting you sit in Old Shockey for a free brain massage..."

Montoya cuts in, her hand on Bullock's shoulder.

"Harvey. Get out of here."

"Not now, Renee."

"Harvey. Get. Out. Before you do something you regret."

Continually muttering his threats, which have now progressed to regrets that hanging was no longer acceptable, or that the headsman with a blunt axe was deemed inhuman, the portly detective shuffles out of the room; Montoya takes his seat.

"Now, then. The way I see it, you have two options. You either let Bullock press for the death penalty, or we can come to an agreement."

Walker, filled with the Rapture of the Lord, hears the entire exchange.

Katherine Walker

After more prodding, and murmured protests about "privacy rights," the company eventually folds, handing out first names. And giving you the opportunity to do further research.

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George Altus - an accountant in the financial district. Highly successful-the man has 2 penthouse apartments in the wealthy area of town.

Rodrigo Gomez - An Puerto Rican immigrant and mechanic at some local garage. Has a criminal history: a DUI seven months ago.

William Milverton- a small-time gangster. Currently spending 10 years for manslaughter; he was also incarcerated three months ago.

Harleen Quinzel - a therapist/psychologist. Worked for six months in Arkham Asylum before setting up her own private practice. Attempts to access her client list were met with failure-she takes patient confidentiality very strictly.

Patricia Zyx - Deceased; a listing in the Gotham Times notes that she was run over by a speeding car only a week ago.

However, just as you finish, the phone at the desk rings. Katherine answers it to hear Ra's Al-Ghul's voice on the other end. He sounds...extremely disturbed. Worried, and very much unsure.

"Detective Walker? Ah. Yes. This is Ra's Al-Ghul. I need you in my office as soon as you can. Please hurry. Ah. You should know the reason why. Well...you see...there's a dead girl in my office."

EDIT: End of Issue #2: Quis Custodiet? Art by Mike Dringenberg

[doliest]

Walker
Walker breaths in. He'd been hoping for the room containing the records, but the Lord chose what he saw. But...why had he seen it? Was he to judge the man..or offer him redemption? He had felt good, and did not stew in his corruption like too many officers or politicians. Good. Redemption it was. First step was getting out of this cell. He begins banging on the cell bars, making as must noise as he can.

[Terron]

"What I said? What would you say if a mad old woman points at you with a gun? I said what she wanted to hear. Luigi D'amato is dead, check your records hulk." hastily replies Luigi to Bullock's outburst, and he settles his coat, or what remains of it.

"Let's hear about this agreement first." says the italian mobster, wearily.

[industrious]

Montoya

"It's called a plea bargain. You give us sworn testimony, both in writing and as a witness implicating every single one high-level member of the Mob you can remember. And in return, you plead guilty to possession of an illegal firearm, and get five years. Out in three for good behavior."

She takes out a manila folder, and begins laying out several photographs.

"Or we go with multiple counts of first degree murder in addition to possession. Not only do we have your confession in the holding cells, but we have both fingerprint and photographic analysis proving you to be Luigi D'Amato. Faking your death was clever, but you'd have only done that if the higher-ups in the Mob were after you. All we really need is to get you to trial, and they'd hear about it. Or one of our other, less upstanding officers to hear who we have locked up here. I don't doubt you'd be found dead in your cell within a day if that happened."

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine stared at Harleen Quinzel. For some reason the name was kicking out at her, jumping up and down on her brain as if it was trying to draw her attention some sort of trick, some sort of p...

The phone rang and Katherine's hand slammed down on it hard, cursing the sound for derailing her train of thought. She brought it to her ears with a snarl, ready to bawl out whoever was on the other line, but froze as Ra's Al-Ghul spoke.

"****. Why me? I'm a goddamn busy woman. You just met me yesterday, chrit'ssake. And we're gonna have to talk about how you got my number. Mr Gul." Katherine stops herself groaning as she realizes that the last sentence there had sounded just like what her grandmother had told her to do about strange men calling her up after first dates. Goddamn embarrassing.

But Katherine couldn't resist one last rejoinder as she rose from her chair and grabbed her coat around her, writing down a quick memo for Bullock to have a look at this Zyx and to arrange her an interview with Harley Quinzel, her hand flying on the paper as she spoke.

You know, Mr Ra's Al-Ghul, I know I shouldn't say this, but..." Katherine smirked. "Told you so."

[Terron]

Montoya

"It's called a plea bargain. You give us sworn testimony, both in writing and as a witness implicating every single one high-level member of the Mob you can remember. And in return, you plead guilty to possession of an illegal firearm, and get five years. Out in three for good behavior."

She takes out a manila folder, and begins laying out several photographs.

"Or we go with multiple counts of first degree murder in addition to possession. Not only do we have your confession in the holding cells, but we have both fingerprint and photographic analysis proving you to be Luigi D'Amato. Faking your death was clever, but you'd have only done that if the higher-ups in the Mob were after you. All we really need is to get you to trial, and they'd hear about it. Or one of our other, less upstanding officers to hear who we have locked up here. I don't doubt you'd be found dead in your cell within a day if that happened."

"Hey nenita! I didn't fake my own dead, one of your amici shot me down without askin' a damn question! If the Mob wanted me dead, they'd have already killed me fair and square, unlike you policemen. And so you are menacing me with that? I thought you were better than your giant friend, but you are just calmer." says Luigi, and then quickly corrects. "Today." He pauses a moment, thinking, calming down.

"I'll give you a better agreement. I will give you the keys to stop the Mob, I'll tell you were they hide drugs and weaponry, I'll tell you who can you trust inside here, and who you should send to rot in prison. I'll even give you phone numbers, addresses, everything. Heck if you let me I'll hunt them down myself. And I'll do it, even if you send me to the electric chair. You know why? Because I've wanted to do the right thing since I recovered from the mortal shot. That's why I rescued Gordon, that's why I didn't shoot the crippled woman, or escaped from detention, or buy one of the many corrupted officers to let me out. I'm just trying to repair the damage I've caused, and you guys wont let me!" Luig said that last words with closed teeth, giving the table a good punch.

[industrious]

Interrogation Room

"Of course we won't."

Montoya remains calm, despite Luigi's insults.

"You killed someone, and more than that, you killed a cop. You've lied to us-repeatedly, mind you. One good deed doesn't make you a hero, and you can't just walk away from your past scott free. And just because you said you're reformed, doesn't convince me at all. You want to help us take down the Mob, then give us the information. And in return, you plead guilty to a relatively minor crime, and spend five years in prison. Working to correct yourself. You want to do the right thing? Well, this is how you do it."

Wayne Entreprises

The ride there is silent. The sun has already begun to set, and rush hour is just setting in. Katherine puts the siren on, to avoid the worst of the traffic, but some ass driving a Hummer on steroids nearly nicks her anyway.

Wayne Tower is the tallest building in Gotham, and its steel and glass construction is quite awe-inspiring. Showing your badge to the parking garage, and to the receptionist gets her to the top floor. And all the while, Katherine feels like a stranger in a strange world, entirely different from the one she normally inhabits. A world of carpeted floors, and frosted glass walls, of sleek and shinning monitors and immaculately clean rooms. One of the rooms she passes is setting up for some corporate event; she can see tuxedo-clad men setting out wine whose bottle price was more than she paid for food in a day.

Ra's office on the top floor is a stark contrast to that world. It is, instead, all wood and leather and brass; there are no windows, and whatever light there is comes from wall-mounted lamps. Nothing in the room looks newer than the turn of the century-not a computer in sight.

And then there's the girl. There isn't any blood, nor any other sort of injury that Katherine can see. She looks peaceful, just lying there face down on the floor. And familiar. With a growing sense of horror, Katherine turns the body over, and finds that it's the girl from the Records room.

Lyle Bolton

It's that time of night again. Time for the work to be done, and for the scum of Gotham to be cleaned up. To be sent into the jail they belong, because the police were too cowardly and corrupt to do it themselves. To lock them up, and throw the key away.

The Paddy Wagon glides through the night, and you grin in anticipation. One of your sources had tracked down Chill to a warehouse near the center of town. So caught up are you in the thought of him finally behind bars for good that you almost hit a police car, your reflexes preventing an awkward accident. Your outfit alone would cause questions. The Paddy Wagon's modifications would cause you to get a cell of your own.

But the night is just beginning, and there is work to be done. Begin.

Selina Kyle

The phone in your office rings, and the voice on the other end is garbled. You can recognize the technology used to do it; it's a crude way of disguising one's voice. Of providing anonymity. It is very effective.

"I wish to investigate the current CEO of Wayne Entreprises. I suspect him of having Mafia connections, or perhaps to overseas agencies. Are you interested in the job?"

[Sophistemon]

Lyle Bolton

He swears under his breath as he swerves to avoid colliding with the police car. The Paddy Wagon, powerful machine that it is, could probably have simply driven over the other automobile, or crashed cleanly through it - but it would have invited unpleasant questions. And, although the odds were far and away against it, he didn't want the blood of one of Gotham City's rare clean cops on his hands. So. Mind on the mission, Mister Bolton. There would be no time or place for mental grandstanding until after Chill was safely in the only sort of custody that could be trusted in this town. Why don't you go over what you know?

All right, he thinks. Joe Chill, a made man, perhaps one of the main made men in Falcone's organization, had recently evaded the forces of justice with a bribe. The corrupt bureaucracy of Gotham City would call it 'making bail', but the money had come from the mob and was thus tainted with the blood of the innocent. Which makes him a fugitive. He was now hiding, like a rat in the wall, in a warehouse towards the center of the city. Because he had 'made bail', the police couldn't touch him.

He nods to the windshield.

"Which makes him my problem."

Warehouses are good, he continues. Warehouses have a lot of aisles inside them, like alleyways. Lots of places to duck and dodge to avoid gunfire. But, as he knew, they're also easy to defend, for many of the same reasons. I'll have to be careful or I'll end up as another corpse in Gotham Bay. I'll need to be silent, stealthy and swift. I can't stay in one place for more than a few seconds at a time. I'll need to be everywhere at once, to keep them off balance until they're all down. The grenades will help keep them disorganized as I take them out. And then... the smile returns. And then I take Chill. And he never gets away.

He reaches the center of the city and parks a block away from the warehouse. He's no fool - they'll be watching the immediate area around their hideout, and their parking lot especially. He'll need to find another way of approach. He kills the engine and leaves the vehicle.

A frontal assault would be suicide, he muses. And they'd have the rear entrance covered, too. Which leaves... He locks the Paddy Wagon, engaging its alarm and heads, quickly, into the shadows. "Up." He removes the grapple-gun from his belt and fires it over his head to latch onto the roof of a nearby building. The automated winch rapidly reels him up. He heads towards the other side of the roof and looks down at the warehouse. He then removes his night vision binoculars and looks down at the area, hoping to spot possible exterior resistance.

Spoiler

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Because I can see them both being useful, I'm going to roll both Notice and Search. If only one would suffice for this kind of thing, please tell me so that I know to only roll one in the future.

Notice: (1d20+10)[17]
Search: (1d20+6)[21]

[doliest]

Walker
He lifts his head up, screaming like a mad man, doing anything he can to get some attention. He needed to get out of his cell. Quickly.

[Terron]

Luigi stares back at Montoya. "You got your pencil ready? Cuz I have lots of numbers and names to tell you, and more than one story." he said, accepting the deal.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine was first and foremost a good policewoman, so she swept the crime scene - or at least, what was presumably the crime scene - for any clues or notes or telltale grime. Brushing underneath fine lacquered desks and crawling across fine antique-style carpets only serves to reinforce the injustice of the situation, and she's in a mildly foul mood as she gets up to look at the lifeless body of the girl.

"Mr. Ra's Al-Ghul." She says calmly. "This girl was in the police department, today, looking for her brother. Now tell me why I shouldn't call the entire rest of my department in here, and let you see how the papers react to the body of a dead young, sweet and pretty girl in the office of Gotham's newest CEO, and how you tried to keep it hidden by contacting only me?"

Spoiler

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Assuming Ra's in the office. Probably doesn't want Katherine poking around too much, does he?

Spending a hero point to get best possible result from Investigation, for a roll of 35.
Rolling sense motive on Ra for his reaction to the murder, because Katherine is naturally suspicious. (1d20+13)[31]
Rolling intimidate to (politely) get Ra off balance and on the wrong foot. (1d20+9)[10]

[Eurus]

Selina Kyle

Selina answers the phone with her laptop already open, checking her e-mail. She stops short (figuratively) an instant later - regardless of the words spoken, the distorted voice made it clear that this was important business.

Upon hearing the question, she pulls up a search engine and quickly refreshes her memory. Mr. Al-Ghul. New management. Interesting.

Something about this situation was suspicious; the secrecy of her prospective client, the vague allegations, the use of a single PI rather than a firm for such a high-profile target... her instincts told her that her client's motivations for wanting to see Al-Ghul exposed were probably financial or political rather than ethical, and perhaps they were simply fishing. But did it really matter? If Al-Ghul was corrupted, he should be exposed, regardless of the reasons. And Selina took no small pleasure in antagonizing the mob in any way possible.

"...Yes, I'm interested."

Actions:

Spoiler

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While on the phone, Selina will run a quick internet search on Ra's, just to pick up any publicly available information on the man, and on recent (defining "recent" as anything up to the events leading up to Ra's taking over the company) events involving Wayne Enterprises for anything suspicious.

[industrious]

Ra's Al-Ghul

(1d20+17)[31]

There isn't any sign of assault or struggle, and considering the opulence of the room, it can be safely said that cleaning off any signs would be very difficult to do without damaging the settings.

However, one of the desk drawers has a false bottom. Katherine can't currently get to it, at least without Al-Ghul noticing, but she can tell it's there.

Ra's is, for his part, indignant at Katherine's accusations.

"I...I...well of course I am trying to cover this up! I did nothing wrong, Detective; she came to my office, we talked for a while, and then she just kneeled over. If word of this leaked out, there would be a scandal! Accusations would be made, and the company could very well fire me; even if they didn't, Wayne Entreprise's stock would plunge. I am responsible for over 200 thousand jobs, Detective. If I can prevent any of them from being fired unnecessarily, I will."

Every word he's saying is true. But he's leaving something out. Something important.

Seline Kyle

There isn't too much to go on. Born and raised in Arabia, the man worked for a powerful oil magnate before it went bankrupt under his reign as COO. The man was a deeply private individual, less devout than most in his country but far more than most in the US, and had donated large amounts of money to various environmentalist causes.

As for Wayne Entreprises...almost everyone knew the story. After the death of the former CEO Thomas Wayne, the company had been limping along for years. A string of new CEOs, some competent, others not so much. But none able to match up against the rising LexCorp in Metropolis. The company's stock was, while not at an all-time low, had seen much higher years. It had sustained slight losses this quarter for the first time in a decade, and the company's future seemed grim.

"...Excellent. I have information that he is planning to sell a certain warehouse to the Falcone crime family later this evening. Here is the address..."

Renee Montoya

"I'll take all you can that this pad can hold."

The interview goes on for several hours, and her legal pad fills up with names, addresses, bank accounts, and other assorted details. Eventually, her stub of a pencil goes blunt, and she is forced to stop.

"We'll stop here for today. You'll be remanded into an officer's custody-probably mine-so that nobody will know you've been here. Think of it as Witness Protection-lite. Sound good?"

Holding Cells

A uniformed officer swaggers in. Young. Red-haired. Cocky smirk. He takes out his nightstick, twirls it a few times.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Warehouse

The warehouse is occupied; a security guard at the front end, and a Wayne Entreprises logo on the front door. The skylights in the warehouse show that the interior is lit-not particularly well, but the hanging lamps and the like keep it from being totally dark. Bolton should be able to enter easily enough, though. At least, he believes so.

The problem, though, is noise. That security guard may be a pushover, but he can contact the police. The grenades would take far too much noise; even using a gun would be risking it.

Too late, the thought clicks in his head. Chill wasn't hiding...he was working. Back on the street, and doing the Mob's business. What was the point of being arrested, if he can make bail, get out of prison, and have the best lawyers prove his innocence? It was a joke, a scam. And Chill and every other Mob man knew it.

[Eurus]

Selina Kyle

Selina notes the address, and the Falcone name with grim satisfaction. If this had even a chance of being true, it was worth looking into. "Very well. If I collect proof, what would you have me do with it? Police?"

Doubtful, she thought to herself with a metaphorical eye roll as she asked the question. Her client probably wouldn't be so secretive if they planned on involving the police.

[industrious]

Selina Kyle

"The police cannot be trusted. Give the evidence to James Gordon. He will know what to do with it. A down payment. One tenth."

The other end abruptly clicks off, and Selina checks her bank account. A wire transfer from the Cayman Islands; she's now three thousand dollars richer.

[Sophistemon]

Lyle Bolton

He growls, his eyes narrowing behind the binoculars before he pulls them away from his face, folds them and places them back on his belt. The front door was guarded - obviously, but it was good to confirm it - and the man was probably armed. Definitely armed, no doubt with a weapon that had the serial numbers filed off. If he wasted time taking him out, he might alert the men inside. And if he went in from the rear, grenades bursting, sending tear gas and smoke everywhere, the man in front would alert the police and he'd wind up in prison. He couldn't let that happen, no, there was too much work to be done for him to be stopped now. He curses, harshly, under his breath. He was a security expert, not a trained soldier despite his years with the police. If he got out of this alive, he was going to make it a point of studying tactics. He exhales, slowly, and waits several seconds before breathing in, a calming method taught to him by his mentor. Breathe, he instructs himself. And think. He needed Chill - not the rest. The rest were small fish in a very big pond. Chill was a shark among guppies, here.

The skylights. If he could get over to the roof of the warehouse, he might be able to look down through the skylights. If he could spot Chill, he could crash his way through, use the grapple-gun to reach the ground, grab Chill and then zip back up again, the gangster in hand, to truss him up at leisure. A few restraints, applied atop another building, and he'd go into the back of the Paddy Wagon to be transferred into a holding cell at the Slammer.

He nods. It was better than nothing. He uses the grapple to go from building to building, quickly making his way closer to the warehouse. He keeps to the shadows whenever he can, to avoid being seen, and should soon find himself looking down into the interior of the warehouse. He keeps his eyes peeled for Joe Chill.

Actions:

Spoiler

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Lyle's going to use his grapple-gun to get to the roof of the warehouse without being seen. Once there, he's going to look through the glass and search for Joe Chill.
Stealth:(1d20+7)[16]
Search:(1d20+6)[20]

[Eurus]

Selina Kyle

Selina's mood flickers between pleasant surprise and more suspicion at the sight of the money. It seemed too good, for a job as straightforward as it was described to be. Maybe it was just paranoia, but her paranoia had an irritating habit of ending up justified. Still, she'd already made up her mind to go. She just had to be careful.

With practiced speed, she changes into her "work clothes" - black catsuit underneath a pair of jeans and a trenchcoat, normal looking enough for this city. Cliché, admittedly, but she had a taste for the traditional and it helped her get in the mood. The mask goes into a pocket for later; it wouldn't do to walk out of her own apartment wearing it, after all.

Before actually leaving for the warehouse, she looks up James Gordon on a whim. Was her client at least directing her to someone trustworthy?

[industrious]

Selina Kyle

It takes less than five minutes to get that information. And if James Gordon wasn't trustworthy, than there wasn't a cop in Gotham who was. Newly promoted to head of Internal Affairs, the man had enough hospitalizations to account for a personalized line on the city medical expense budget. His arrest record included several mid-level bosses, including an attempt on Joe Chill himself.

((I'll get to Lyle soon enough. Right now, I've got an asynchronicity that I need to correct.))

[Eurus]

Selina Kyle

Hm. Maybe I am just being paranoid. I can't imagine that whoever this mystery client is would point me to a man like Gordon if they didn't want to see Ra's brought to justice. Unless there's no meeting...

Mind spinning with possible scenarios, Selina exits the apartment and heads toward the warehouse. A few blocks away, she ducks into an alley and puts on her mask, trying to cross the rest of the distance covertly until she reaches a close enough distance to inspect it through a set of binoculars for activity.

[industrious]

The Warehouse

A simple enough task. Few people check the rooftops, anyway. Lyle swings to the other roof easily, landing safely on his feet. Looking down at one of the skylights-carefully, so that his shadow doesn't obstruct the moonlight, he sees Chill in a cramped office, talking to another man. Both are wearing business suits.

Selina, on the other hand, sees a tall, muscular man on one of the adjacent rooftops. The intruder extends a cable line, and swings onto the roof of the warehouse. Company. Maybe even competition.

Things were never as simple as they seemed. Especially in Gotham.

[Eurus]

Selina Kyle

Well well, what have we here. Unless the Falcones started hiring acrobats, I doubt that he's part of the meeting.

Carefully, Selina flexes her hands, shrugs off her coat to toss it over her shoulder (experience had taught her to avoid climbing in the long garment, if she could help it), and extends a set of dull metal claws through the hard-to-see slits in the fingers of her gloves before stealthily scaling the wall of the building adjacent to the warehouse. Reaching the roof, she crouches down and resumes watching the man through her binoculars.

Spoiler

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Taking 10 on stealth for a 24, +2 for urban camouflage outfit.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine sits down on the nearest chair. She's quite aware that just by doing this in her usual sloppy fashion she's probably ruining a work of art costing several hundred - if not thousand - dollars, but her leg hurts and she's irritable and right now she doesn't care.

"Look." Katherine pushes her stick off away from her so it rests on the desk, and stares at one of the most powerful men in Gotham. "Jesus, I find a killed girl in your office and you complain that I'm getting suspicious! What do you expect me to do? You asked for a cop and you got a damned good cop, so deal. As untrustworthy bastards go you seem quite good enough, so let me help you if you help me."

Katherine takes out a pen from one of her pockets and a notebook from another. It's a basic trick, and one she doesn't expect will work on Ra himself, but often people get more wary and helpful when they know what they're saying is being recorded, and wary people slip up. "So, tell me a bit about this girl. You know her? Did she tell you why she came here? How did she get into your office? Does anybody else know of this? Got any clue about cause of death, and if not could we get some kind of doctor here to find out?"

While she was saying this, Katherine gets up and starts walking around the desk, pacing with the regular click-clack of her stick to aid her thinking and help the rhythm of her questions. Just when it seems she's finished, her pen hovering above the pad and ready to write as she stares at the dead girl, she speaks to the new CEO of Wanysecorp. "Oh, and one thing. Ra's Al-Ghul."

She turns and faces him.

"I'm a cripple cop, but I'm a ****ing good cripple cop. And you gave me a lot of power over you by inviting me to this office, here now. I know when people tell me the truth, and I also know when they leave out something very very goddamn important. You know something you're not telling, and this girl - some goddamn innocent girl searching for her brother all I can tell - is found dead in your office and with that I can bloody collapse your little new empire and blow the whole thing up! So goddamn trust me, because right now I am your cop and I will only be your cop if you tell me what the hell you are doing and why I should be helping you do it!"

Katherine draws in her next hard breath and brushes some hair out of her eyes, the first feminine movement she's taken ever since... well. "It had to be said. I don't think I could do you much damage really but if you cut me out of this loop in any way you are asking for it. We got a good working relationship here." She slumps back down on the chair, all business-like. "Let's not ruin it."

[Sophistemon]

Lyle Bolton

His heart skips a beat when he spots Chill, in his office, talking to another man. His mouth quirks when he notices the suits, but then twists into a smile beneath his mask. After tonight, Chill won't be wearing anything nearly that well-tailored. He had a bright, monochromatic jumpsuit waiting for him back at the Slammer. He makes his way around the skylight, positioning himself as close to Chill as possible, until he can look straight down and see the top of his quarry's head. He kneels and affixes his grapple to the roof. Once he crashes through the skylight, he'll grab Chill and then the automatic winch will raise him back up. From there he'll make his escape to a nearby rooftop, then to the Paddy Wagon. After that... it should be simple enough to evade capture. Gotham City's dark and twisting streets make avoidance a simple task.

His line secure, he tests the strength of the glass with a booted foot. He knows that it's probably tough enough to survive most meteorological stresses, rain, snow, maybe even hail, but he needs to know if he can crash through it. He imagines that he can, three-hundred pound man that he is, but he needs to make sure. If not, he'll need to use his cutting torch, which would make him much more noticeable; something that should be avoided at all costs. It would give Chill time to run, to get away. That wouldn't be tolerated.

Actions:

Spoiler

Show

As above, Lyle's going to test the strength of the glass to see if he can pull off a dynamic entry. I'm also rolling Notice, so as to determine if he sees Catwoman scaling the adjacent building.

Notice: (1d20+8)[19]

[industrious]

Ra's Al-Ghul

His brow furrows. When he speaks, his accent, previously light, is far more prominent.

"She came to office to see if I had anything to do with her brother. Believed I was responsible. I am capable of many things, Detective. But to mess with...what is word? I cannot remember. To mess with them? Unspeakable."

He paces nervously around the office, rubbing his temples. Katherine notices that there is more gray in them than when they had last met.

"I have no clue about cause of death. I am not a doctor, and what little I know is...outdated. That is correct word? I knew girl when she was younger. Spent much of life running away from her and her family."

His lips quirk oddly at the phrasing. He hesitates for a moment, shakes his head.

"Truth? I have illness, Detective. Prognosis...terminal. No idea of timing. I was lying earlier about lack of knowledge. She has same illness I do. I have medication. She refuse to take it. Accept her illness. I do not."

He's facing Walker now, his eyes pleading.

"Do not tell anyone of my illness. Nobody living save my daughter and you know of it. I have only so much time. And I must make best use of it. I can get a doctor in here, confirm diagnosis on girl. May I place a call?"

The Warehouse

(1d20+5)[11]

The man is now crouched by one of the skylights, peering into the warehouse. And he's got something dull and metallic-looking in his hand.

Lyle is intent on his task; the glass will shatter. Noisily, but it will break if he forces it. The two men shake hands and exit the office. The other one, the one who isn't Chill, takes a small packet of papers, and does something with them; Bolton can't tell at this angle.

They're walking down the center aisle now. Just a few more feet...

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine pauses for a moment, and then gives a partial nod. "Do it." She says. "just answer me one or two questions first. Dead bodies don't really get deader."

The cop sits up and puts her notebook in her pocket, no need for grandstanding left now that Ra's Al-Ghul seems to be cooperative and compliant. "You seem to know this girl a bit, so just tell me what illness did she had and why'd she not fight it. And who's this them?"

While she's speaking, Katherine grabs her cell phone from her pocket and tosses it to the CEO. "In case you don't want to use your line, if it's bugged or recorded or could be traced back or some of that muck. Just don't leave me hanging if the rap should come to me."

[Sophistemon]

Lyle Bolton

The width of his grin stretches the fabric of his mask. The glass will shatter, he thinks. He will descend upon the guilty like an avenging angel, a black-suited agent of justice. He hitches the grapple to his belt, behind him, and takes a step back. He wants to have a lot of momentum for this. He waits until Chill is directly underneath him and takes a leap. His booted feet hit the glass and -

- it explodes underneath him, the shards raining down around him like jagged razors, their edges catching the light and reflecting it back. He lands in a crouch, his descent slowed by the line, and rises to his full height. He looks down at the mobster, his eyes narrowed, and reaches towards him.

"You're coming with me," he says, his voice low and raspy.

Actions:

Spoiler

Show

I'm going to try and engage Chill in a grapple. If I manage to get my hands around him, I'll put him in a pin and next turn I'll engage the automated winch and pull us both up to the roof. Once there, I can take care of him at leisure.

Attack: (1d20+7)[21]
Opposed Grapple Check: (1d20+11)[12]