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Michael
Hm. Stalker? Maybe. He slips it into his trenchcoat pocket, moving back into the street. He still had quite a bit of time before Falcone would be eating again, or his 'meeting' with the commissioner. All that time, and nothing to do. He couldn't head back to the Narrows until after those two were accomplished. He simply begins walking the streets, heading to the golf course to wait. Maybe he'd see something along the way.
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
The Dream came suddenly; from the instant head met pillow the whirlwind of images began. A city in ruins, not just a city but a palace, with halls made from possibilities and gates crafted of horn and ivory. A naked man with hair the exact shade of twilight knelt within a circle, shivering inside a glass cage. Then a leather drawstring pouch, locked within a safe and stored away in a warehouse on the South Side of Gotham, it's contents incredibly precious...
It ended in a library, where the books opened to blank pages. And a tall man with pointed ears in a tweed suit fumbled for one last volume before offering it to you.
Please, he says. You have to help.
The Apartment
Hagen awakes to the sensation of being poked into consciousness. It's the littlest Gordon, green eyes already remarkably steady and unnerving, even at her age. It was, he reflected, a good thing, that he wasn't in his normal apperance. She'd probably beg for his autograph.
"Excuse me, mister. I need to get to school."
The Streets
Sleep amongst the wretched always filled him with nightmares. Flashes of memory, just barely eluding him upon wakefulness. But there was the Duty and the Purpose, and until he remembered, they would suffice.
The church is still marked to be condemned, and its premises are empty. But the good Father is still leading his flock in prayer from its steps, and heads are bowed in reverence.
The Holding Cells
The woman from last night walks in, looking noticeably calmer now. She's still pissed, of course.
"Right. I'm taking you to Interrogation Room D. Turn and face the wall, hands above your head on the wall."
Michael
He moves about, heading through the city once more. He had appointments to keep. Never thought he would, but he did. A golf course, then a resturant. In one he would save the church. In the other, he would execute a monster. God had two hands, and in a way, he must serve both of them.
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
"Al right seniorina, I'll comply, but again I think there's no reason for me to be here." Luigi stands up and faces the wall, with his hands on it. Again he lets his gift slip between his words.
OOC: When Montoya touches him to put the handcuffs, he'll use his aura to drain will and then emotional control on her, both DCs are 17
"I ought to disagree, you know that I've not done anything wrong, and that harassment charge, as you well know is not enough to imprison anyone, nor treat him like I've been treated. Plus I've the permit for the gun in my house, I just don't carry it all the time." Explains Luigi. "Ouch, that hurts."
"Good. Then you won't have any problem if we ask you a few questions before we release you."
Montoya leads him to the interrogation room, where a very large man is busy devouring an open box of doughnuts.
"He's all yours, Bullock."
He scarcely looks up from his stash until Montoya closes the door on the two of them. He's got beady eyes; they flick around the room, always searching, always appraising. Even though he's got fingers like sausages, they still move swiftly as he scarfs down the confections.
"Right," he says. "Looks like Montoya set your cuffs too tight. Want me to get em off you?"
Luigi narrows his eyes, trying to read the guy in front of him. "I guess she had a bad day, having to get up so early to do her job. It annoys everyone you know? The name is Luigi, Luigi Bottoni. I'm from Italy as you might already know." he offers.
OOC: First he'll try a sense motive ( (1d20+1)[8] )to know if he's acting his dislike to Montoya. Then, if he is, or if Luigi thinks he is, he'll try some bluff (1d20+8)[19], and diplomacy (1d20+6)[11]. If all this fails, he'll use his emotional control over him.
You don't know whether something automatically fails or succeeds in social situations.
Secret Rolls:
Spoiler
(1d20)[20](1d20)[17](1d20)[17]
"Good. Now, then. Current residence and occupation?"
Bullock really dislikes Montoya; Luigi is certain of it. When he first arrived, he could see it in their eyes; disgust at Bullock's prowess with pastries, and a hatred at Montoya dragging him to interrogate him.
Katherine wakes from a dream of dark corners and shadows, and snarls as she rolls over in bed. This is because she realizes that in waking life her leg is bad as it ever was, regardless of the brief respite sleep offered.
Her stick's deposited some ways from her bed, for yesterday was a late night and she dropped it soon as she could collapse in the right direction, still clothed: she's regretting the haste now, because she has to both hobble over to her cane and then get out of a set of perfectly comfortable clothes. After limping over and grabbing her stick she decides enough is enough and sets out for breakfast, still dressed in the crumpled remains of what she wore last night.
It's halfway through a dreary breakfast that she remembers a tip, a hint she has from somewhere, about some safe in the south of Gotham, something to bide her over before it's time for her to meet that hitman and explain to him in great detail how upset she is.
With a hint more life, the cop finishes her meal and gets dressed in her usual gear for covert operations. The only question was, where in Gotham's south side should she be? Gordon's in hospital, Montoya's asleep, Hagen's busy with the kid and Bullock was out of the question. Looks like it was up to her.
Still thinking, Katherine checks her gun and makes sure it's working okay. Who knew? She could get her chance.
Spoiler
Rolling Knowledge (Streetwise) and Knowledge (Gotham) for any clues Katherine can remember/recall about that south side of Gotham.
Hagen woke, instantly forgetting whatever it was he was dreaming about as was his wont; he always slept with his blanket over his head, childlike, mostly out of paranoia someone would sneak up on him while he slept and he wouldn't have his face on. Maybe, perhaps, because he thought each morning there was a chance he'd emerge from his blanket cocoon whole again, that the face he'd see in the mirror that morning would be his own, naturally and without effort.
Someone was poking him; he reached under his pillow for the gun he always kept there, and putting on the rather boring face he had become accustomed to these last few days holed up in this place, he jerked the covers off.
And saw Gordon's little girl staring at him oh so seriously. He sighed. Leaving the gun where it was under the pillow, he sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his (newly formed) eyes.
"Don't call me mister," he says, feigning drowsiness. "My name is-" Were her eyes really that green? Just like Stella's...
"-Door." Uh, what? Where'd that come from? Lame, Matt, lame. Feeling self-conscious, which no self-respecting actor should ever feel, he got out of bed irritably. "Alright alright, lets get you to school..."
Barbara's school was just across the street from her (former) home. It was funded by the University of Gotham; "The Experimental School." Which sounded more than a little unnerving, but upon further inquiry, Hagen learned that this was where new methods of teaching and learning were attempted. Someimtes with success, others with failure, but on average, this place was the best free school Gotham could muster. He was pretty sure that "Learning through explosions" was a joke, too. The fact that it was written up on official letterhead was just an April Fool's Day prank. Several months late.
Warehouse
The warehouse was in the industrial district of Gotham, only a few blocks from Town Hall, ironically. She could remember the address, as well. And more importantly, it's current owner: Wayne Entreprises, and its brand-new CEO.
Unfortunately, the place was private property. And without a warrent, she couldn't get in. But Mr. Al-Ghul was supposed to be very open with the police, anyway...or at least, he had said as much upon arriving in Gotham.
Appointment
It's getting close to his appointment time. The Commissioner's golf course was almost three miles away.
The way Katherine figured it, this was a time where the direct honest approach might actually get something, if only more information on how to succeed at the direct dishonest way. The cop made sure her badge was safe in her inner pocket and tried to think up an excuse as she knocked on the door.
"Police." Katherine remembered just in time not to shout the word. "Want a couple of words, please."
With any luck, she could get a couple of bribes out of this. WayneTech wasn't above stuff like that, and very very rich.
Michael
He breaks into a run. He did need to keep that appointment. He had just enough social grace to know that. He wasn't quite sure how he was going to handle this. And he didn't play golf. He wondered how one went about it.
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
Katherine covers up her indecision with an intimidating stare as she thinks. After a moment, she speaks. "Listen, buddy. The things I want to talk about are things your boss would rather not have me talking about in public. A warrant mean I'd have to tell somebody about what's in here, safe and all, and that way I don't get a cut and your boss loses his cut, too. Now do you wanna let me in, or should I get back to the police station?"
"I'm currently without a job, and taking a temporary residence in The Logs residence." states Luigi, telling the truth. He crossed his legs, and rested his head on his closed fist, elbow on the desk. "Life is hard these days..." he says, looking past the man, into oblivion. However, his sight was on Bullock.
Notice [roll]1d20+1[/roll] to check for any thing on Bullock worth of notice.
A hobo on a golf course was an event that occurred with some regularity. Naturally, the security staff of the exclusive club had prepared several contingencies for this. Tazers were perfectly legal weapons, after all, and trespassing on private property was a crime.
Spoiler
Attack Roll:(1d20+3)[9]
DC 20 Toughness Save(Stun)
Attack Roll:(1d20+3)[14]
DC 20 Toughness Save(Stun)
Warehouse
The security guard grunts, and raises the barrier.
"If anybody else bothers you, my job's on the line. You get me fired, and I'll get pissed."
Tough-guy, macho talk. Katherine knows better than to let that get to her.
The warehouse seems more like a factory, really. A refinery, with great vats to store liquids. As she wanders among the railings(which were definitely not OHSA compliant), she comes across another group touring the place. Front and center was a man dressed in a very sharp and expensive-looking green suit.
He was a tall man, a little over six feet, and wiry of build. He moved with the casual grace of a practicing martial artist, and while his receding hairline was dotted with specks of silver, his temples gone permanently white, his complexion was that of a far younger man. He had a particularly odd mustache; beginning slightly above the corners of his lips, and proceeding downward. And his eyes were level as the new CEO of Wayne Entreprises stared at Katherine.
"Now, gentlemen. Who the hell is this young lady prancing about my warehouse?"
Michael (1d20+5)[9] (1d20+4)[9] (1d20+5)[19] (1d20+4)[23]
Walker swings to the side, surprised by the first taser, though not the second. (Is equal a hit or a miss?)
Assuming it's a miss-"I have an appointment, you know." He was restraining the urge to take out his weapons and open fire only by the need to make his appointment.
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
The second taser just clips Walker, but it's enough, sending a very large amount of electricity through the Saint's body. It's all they need to pick him up, and carry him to the gates of the club, where he is unceremoniously thrown out, and the gates locked.
Michael
He stays outside, hoping that he got here quickly enough that the man he was waiting for hadn't arrived yet. If he had...well, Walker had other ways of getting in.
He lets the inside flow through him, trying to get a feel for if his appointment has already arrived.
Spoiler
ESp (1d20+7)[16]
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
"That's detective to you, Mr Ra's A-Gul. I ain't no lady." Katherine Walker stares the most powerful man in Gotham in the face, refusing to back down even in the face of sanity and common sense. Her mind clicks again as it digs up another fact, the old detective instincts still there after all these years - what was it Hagen had said about W.E, both at the scene and at her house. "I heard tell something about a biohazard container at piers thirty seven and thirty nine, and things about something pretty you've got hidden away here. Now, do you wanna have this conversation in public or in your office or something?"
The warehouse office isn't nice, or pretty. In fact, it reminds her of the one they all used during her detail. Small and cramped, with filling cabinets, overflowing bins, and barely enough space for two chairs and a decently sized desk.
"Now, then. I'm terribly sorry, but I find this sort of thing to be rather exciting. I've never actually talked with a law enforcement official in this country before. What was it you wished to ask me about?"
Golf
There are many rich people, dressed in golf shirts and comparing overpriced clubs and drinks. Walker doesn't know which one is the Commissioner. If one even is the Commissioner.
Walker
Hm. A better way, then. Walker uses all the skills he has honed sliding between alleys and dodging pursuers until he could put a bullet in their brains to try to slide in along a back entrance, timing it to avoid any attention.
Spoiler
Steatlh (1d20+13)[20]
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
Katherine pauses as she sits down, and then decides to go for a certain amount of honesty. She has no idea what will be the most effective approach here, and this way is simpler. "Got reports about some biohazards on pier thirty seven, and a bunch of shifty stuff on pier thirty nine, all down to you. Or your company, whatever. Now, it's pretty neat that there's a drug deal at 37 on that night, distracting us police from whatever's going on two piers upwards, ain't it? And what's more, I've been hearing talk down in the underworld about a little safe with somethings suspicious in it - right in this damn building."
"I'm not quite accusing you yet, Mr Gul. I don't have near enough evidence, but in my mind whoever owns the company usually has a pretty big stake in what's going on, no matter what they say. How about you set on proving me wrong and give me some information on these suspisions of mine, so I can get back to grilling proper criminals?"
He seems genuinely surprised by that frank remark. Evidently, he's not used to undercover dealings at harbors. Given where he had come from, perhaps that wasn't too surprising.
"That is most unfortunate. I'm afraid that I can't help you there, Detective. Though as for our own shipment, I am not going to tell you anything especially interesting. It is true that we are shipping many chemicals of a...what is the word...volatile? nature, but we filled out all the necessary forms with your department several weeks ago. And we shipped them at night because it wouldn't do to have a panic in the streets at the sight of a truck with biohazard signs on the road."
Spoiler
If you want to see if the man is lying...Sense Motive checks for each statement he makes.
He blinks at the mention of a safe, and his expression grows more guarded.
"I'm afraid I will need to see some form of identification before I discuss anything further, Detective."
I'm assuming I'm still in the school, like the office or something.
He knew why he was still hanging around the school; the Smiler was still out there, and Barbara could still be in danger. It was necessary to keep an eye on her until they figured out their next move.
But he also realized there was another completely irrational reason why he was here, the moment she stepped out of her car when he dropped her off and said, "Bye Door."
It had hit him then. On his first date with Stella, he had made some horrible pun about his name being Door... Door Matt. She had laughed and said she had never wanted to hear such a groan-worthy pun again; obviously, many more followed, though it was the last time he had made that particular joke.
Till now.
So instead of being back at his penthouse apartment hacking his way into that website, he was here in the Experimental School's office with a "Visitor" badge pinned to his jacket, wearing "Door's" face and leafing through these pamphlets.
He frowned at the "Learning through explosions" part, and went to ask any nearby secretary, "Was this like some joke or something? Or do you actually teach kids, like, arson?"
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