2110/The Dark Knight & The Detective

The Dark Knight & The Detective
Date of Scene:	20 August 2017
Location:	Gotham
Synopsis:	Batman introduces himself to Detective Renee Montoya.
Cast of Characters:	Renee Montoya, Batman

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Renee Montoya has posed:
    Renee Montoya is not like other detectives. She is never really off the job. Even if she tried. The job comes home with her. In her thoughts. In her heart. Facts, figures, interviews, notes, they all whirl in her head to and fro, unceasingly, until they align. And she almost has the crux to this one.
    In her apartment, Renee is sitting in the dark, the only light that of the television which is on - but whatever is on, Renee's really not paying attention to in the least. She's dressed down, to a pair of comfortable shorts, and tank top and some kind of drink - probably alcholic in nature, is cradled in her hand in a tumbler, the bottle wedged between her hip and the couch as she stares at the board. A board of evidence, clues, and patterns she's strung together from the recent crimes in Gotham - a little private project of her own.
    Presently, there are several photographs, each 'x'd out, as possible candidates. And, she's asking herself, "Okay, Renee. Let's try this again. If none of the possible suspects that makes sense are capable of doing shit like this, who is? What's the -real- motivation behind all of this?"

Batman has posed:
A light breeze flutters the curtains of the modest apartment of one of Gotham's Good Cops(tm). They're still too rare a commodity, even with Jim Gordon captaining the ship-- the ones that are both clean -and- capable? That's a shorter list still.

Maybe it was the time she dragged his unconscious form out of a burning warehouse and didn't even try to peak under the cowl and get herself tased. Maybe it's the GCPD docket or recommendation from Gordon himself that her relatively young career carries with it. Maybe it's just information she has, a threat Detective Montoya is adjacent to, that makes a conversation imperative. It's not the first time the Dark Knight has cornered her out of nowhere, but it is perhaps the first outside the GCPD or a crime scene-- a personal visit.

... For a weighty topic. "Settled on a prime suspect?" It's unlikely Renee has an inkling anyone is present before the calm voice incants its simple query over her shoulder. The Batman is draped in his cape, unthreatening and one with the shadows, as if simply conjured into place by some unheard chant; of course, the window and skilled silence are the more likely conclusion-- if one wants to be /boring/ about it.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    Renee starts. Who wouldn't? She sucks in a breath, as she looks to the cape and cowled form of Batman, expelling that breath shortly, "You know," she says to him, with a dry sort of casualness, "I have a door. You must've missed that, in your training. You, and Questions. Almost shot him. God, if this becomes a regular thing, ...," her head lowers into her hand briefly.
    Then, she answers, "Victor Sells. Apparently was a terrible guy. Black magic Vodoo that Dresden saw die in a housefire after some mystical battle a few years ago. Two kids. Both older, now. Both pretty responsible. Nice kids." She's interviewed them, followed up. Verified their stories.
    "Then there's the Beckett's. Sells' financeers. Wanted revenge on John Marcone." Of course, Batman will know who Marcone is, a high standing mafia boss who just yet hasn't taken the step to the ultra-criminal world like Penguin or Two-Face. They're still terrible people, but they've not been in Gotham since Sells died and Marcone found out they were behind all his bad luck."
    She finishes the tumbler off, and remains on the couch. "They had a nephew, though. Randall Connor. Apparently Randall obsessed over his Aunt and Uncle, and their - high society, fast life lifestyle. He hasn't been seen in months. Nobody reported him missing."

Batman has posed:
"You want some IAD badge in the pocket of a scumbag with a grudge against me to start tarnishing your dossier?" The Dark Knight queries in return without missing a beat. "A highlighted bullseye on your back for any lunatic fresh out of Arkham who'd object?" The retort is swift, and probably familiar-- but not /entirely/ without sympathy.

"The only way to keep a secret is if no one knows." It's the closest she'll get to an apology, just now... and full of deeper truths than a cursory glance at the dismissive certitude might suggest. Batman is silent for the rest of the explanation, save an occasionaly monosyllable of understanding, his lens-obscured, artificially blank gaze following the connections through the artifacts pinned to Renee's board. One mustn't forget his earliest teacher was Alfred, and Casefile: Geriatric Noir Edition is familiar indeed.

"So the most likely explanation is this missing blood relative is either responsible for or being used in a ritual surrounding this dead-or-undead mage." Batman says it like it's nothing surprising; not like it's not important, but like it makes far more sense than most would decide that kind of thing -makes-. "At least no one will miss any of them, one way or another." It's so dry, so deadpan, it's hard to tell if it's even a joke. The Bat doesn't smile. "The source of that much demon blood is a missing point of concern." He points out once more -far-too matter of factly.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "Funny thing about internal affairs. They know just how hard to push to make most people feel inadequate and frustrated without drawing so much attention to themselves so you can call them out for being corrupt. Probably just one of the reason Gordon grinds his teeth as he reads daily reports," Renee half-jokes. But, her response is telling. IAD doesn't scare her. And, nothing is going to stop her getting to the truth. Even if it's working with Batman, or his portoges. Or 'wizards' like Harry Dresden who most of the department thinks is more than a bit loopy in the head.
    "Intution tells me the nephew got ahold of something of Sells'. Diary. Spellbook. Something. Maybe his Aunt and Uncle told him what really happened."
    She shakes her head, "RItual blood was spent. Mothers, of the missing children." That? That has her gritting -her- teeth, briefly. She pours another tumbler, offers it, graciously, to Batman, first. She doesn't expect him to take it, but she's got halfway decent manners.
    "Last murder sight we were at, Dresden said a binding ritual was done. Said it was for not just any plain old demon, but something old. Powerful. Elder Demon, he called it." She closes her eyes, "Be glad you didn't see it. If you didn't see it." She's not sure what Batman sees, or what he gets his hands in. Isn't sure she wants to know.
    She exhales, "Nightwing alright?"

Batman has posed:
The Dark Knight doesn't voice any gratitude for Montoya's fearless perserverence; but his own record speaks for itself. There's a reason th Caped Crusader is here at all; as Renee implies, there are many sources for the Bat to turn to for intel. He nods along with her gut instinct, which falls largely in line with his own initial thoughts. It's probably not a surprise to anyone that it takes very little for the World's Greatest Detective to get up to speed on this-- rather outside the box crime.

A steady hand forestalls the drink; he's always on duty. "I have a trusted ally I can call in for help vanquishing the demon." Batman intimates evenly, with that same methodical, baritone-incanted certainty. Just another day at the office.

Rather than answer her question on his eldest protege, the Dark Knight asks one of his own. "Nightwing and Robin-- were they prepared? Assets on the field to the GCPD and one another?" The deceptive non-chalance of the questions, the sudden segue, the subtle but -intent- attention the Detective is now focusing on her; he's better than IAD, that's for certain.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    "I don't think you can prepare for someone turning into a -- demon, right in front of your eyes, when you think you're just dealing with a drug bust," Montoya says, quietly, sobered. And, even as expected, Batman doesn't go for the shot, she downs it instead, capping the bottle and stopping there. "They were better prepared than I was.
    Finally, barefoot, Renee gets off of the couch and she studies the still figure of the Dark Knight, looming in her apartment. Her eyes move to the open window, then back to the Batman. "Have to find it, first. Lead is through Connor. Just have to find him, now." One hand rakes her hair back.
    "This is some top level really screwed up crap, Batman. Don't get yourself hurt. Gotham needs you as much as you need it."
    She recognizes that part of him, clearly, because, likely, she sees it in herself, too. Gotham gives her purpose. More than any other city could. Or, would. "Window is always open, I guess." She might as well invite it, since it's bound to happen, anyways.

Batman has posed:
"They're not you." It's not meant as an insult. It's really not. But it's hard not to take a bit of one anyway. The GCPD is understaffed by the good and undertrained as a whole; it's a tough gig. The Batclan is better equipped, thoroughly trained, and prone to possible impossible standards; clearly Pennyworth's fault. Batman keeps a respectful distance, attention shifting to Montoya as she moves.

"I'll pass Nightwing your concern." He appreciates when people worry about his safety, really he does, and the Caped Crusader promises to take it under advisement; someday.

".. And let you know what I find on your persons of interest." Not so much 'if', but 'when'. The window is always open-- of course it is. And if it actually isn't, he'll just pop it. The Dark Knight is already gone; if he heard the hospitality there's no sign.

Renee Montoya has posed:
    Renee exhales, "So that's what Gordon is always grumpy about, after he leaves his office and the window is open," she tells herself, moving slowly to close it. But, she feels good. Better. It's - well, a good feeling when you know someone is on your side. It's better, when you know that person is Batman.
    It frees her mind enough she actually turns away from the crime board for a moment or two to put the whiskey bottle away. To sit on the couch, and turn the TV on to something she'll actually watch. For a few minutes, anyways.
    "Well, Randall Connor. Guess you and I," she tells herself, "Are going to have a conversation. Probably after you and Batman do."