158/There Are No Friends in Gotham, Only...

There Are No Friends in Gotham, Only...
Date of Scene:	26 April 2017
Location:	Gotham City
Synopsis:	Summary needed.
Cast of Characters:	Batman, Karrin Murphy

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Batman has posed:
2:30 am in Gotham. The perfect time for a break from late-night paperwork.

The city skyline is barely visible, made out more by lights in buildings than their contrast against the night sky behind them.

The G.C.P.D. rooftop is usually quiet save when a certain floodlight is turned on. Currently, it's obscured by a tied-down tarp that completely obscures it.

Luckily, nobody else is up there smoking or eating right now.

However, there is someone present--a figure that stands in the darkest corner of the roof, the tips of its feet and the edges of a dark cape betraying its presence.

Karrin Murphy has posed:
While she and Harry were getting *closer* to figuring out the nightmares mess, they still hadn't totally succeeded, so Karrin's been doing everything in her power to avoid going to sleep. That means working late nights, taking shifts when she can, and generally tossing herself completely at the case which had finally landed in SPECTRE's lap.

Of course, only getting a rough 4 hours of sleep a night would catch up with anyone after a while, and she's really starting to feel it in the middle of the night. So, she's made herself a fresh cup of coffee and has now come up to the roof to get some fresh, chilly spring air in attempts to wake herself up. She's still in her uniform, though her shift ended hours ago, she simply didn't feel like changing. She looks half ghostly beneath her fringe of bobbed blonde hair, the exhaustion making her normally cute face taunt. With a slow, deep breath, she steps out into the darkness. And stops. Immediately stops. She wasn't alone.

While it was her honed instincts that told her she wasn't alone first, she doesn't actually see the figure initially. Her ice blue eyes quickly track across the rooftop, taking in all the darkest corners, even as her shoulders instinctively hug the door she came out of. Always a cop, even when half asleep. Finally, she catches sight of those feet and the dark edge of a cape. She stares straight at the man in darkness, making it clear he's been seen.

Batman has posed:
Slowly, the figure steps out from the shadows.

"I see you have arrived, Officer Murphy. Right on time." The voice is a man's voice, but cold and calm in tone.

As he steps out, the man's dark blue cape is visible first, until he shrugs it back slowly, revealing a dark suit with a white, high-necked dress shirt beneath it. Much of his face is obscured by a shadow cast over it by the brim of his dark hat, but his eyes glimmer silver, not unlike the pale light cast by the moon.

"You must forgive me for my caution," the man continues. "As you may be aware, one must be wary--it is often said that there are no friends in Gotham, only strangers."

Karrin Murphy has posed:
The woman watches him quietly, pale eyes wary and certain. Her gaze narrows a bit at the cape, having thought for a moment perhaps it was the Batman, but the rest of the get up doesn't match. It's a weird mix of vigilante and rich show. A slight smirk crosses her full mouth and she takes a few steps closer, letting the roof door shut behind her so they will be informed if anyone else dares come out and join them.

"...People who say that are lies. When you work in the shit like this, all you can depend on is friends, real friends. Even if they are few and far between. But... caution I can understand. That's always wise. So, now you get to decide -- you want to be my friend and tell me what the hell is going on here, or you wanna brood in shadow some more?" Karrin asks flatly, her voice flat and open, dead serious. But the offer of friendship is earnest as well.

Batman has posed:
"Perhaps you are right," the man says in his cold voice. "But not all of us have the luxury of friendship. For the time being, let us be colleagues."

He takes a single step forward, his back straight and his arms at his sides. Even moving further out of shadow, his face remains obscured.

"You--the Gotham police--have been investigating the death of Bruce Wayne. That death is of interest to those of us in...other fields as well. I had an opportunity to approach a member of your force, here and now, and so I stand with an offer of information. As best I can provide it."

Karrin Murphy has posed:
The woman takes a long, deep drink of her coffee. She desperately needs it, especially for a conversation like this. She looks him up and down, trying to take in every detail about him possible. What weapons he carries, who made his outfit, if there are any injuries present, or rips in the fabric. What he smells like. She takes another step closer, trying to get into an angle where she can see his face as well. Karrin is a detail oriented detective, she leaves no stone unturned.

"I will always accept information. And colleagues, well... We'll see how that information pans out, yes?" She mutters with a half wry smile, having worked very hard to earn her badge and position, it's not something she's willing to share just because someone snuck up on her on a roof.

Batman has posed:
The man offers a slight smirk in response, but it quickly fades. "Let me begin with a statement and a question. Bruce Wayne is dead, this much is true. But...who is this Bruce Wayne?" His head tilts to a shallow angle. "That is to say: what do you know about this Bruce Wayne?"

Karrin Murphy has posed:
Another sigh escapes her lips, trying not to be completely annoyed at the obfuscation but she's not her normal, patient self on this little sleep. Karrin stares at him over the rim of her coffee cup. "You know, colleagues generally don't like playing guessing games with each other but just share the information because we're all very busy people and having half truths just makes people chase their tails and waste time, but...what do I know? I've only been a cop ten years." Karrin mutters flatly, the impatience not well hidden in her sardonic tone.

"Bruce Wayne. Playboy, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, lost his parents at a young age, probably f*cked him up for attachment or committment the rest of his life. Doesn't let many people in personally or professionally. Lets the board of his company run it mostly. Now supposedly dead."

Batman has posed:
"Officer Murphy," the man replies, "it is my understanding that you--you, specifically--recognize that some conversations cannot be...held so freely. Still," he adds, "we will speak as we can."

The man adjusts the golden clasps of his cape that connect via a small chain. "What you have described certainly fits the history of Bruce Wayne." He is quiet for a long moment before asking, "Are you sure that you have the right one? For that matter, who would want him dead?"

Karrin Murphy has posed:
An honest groan escapes her lips, "Look, we're ALONE on this roof. Alone. Door is shut and anyone else comes out here, I'll know it. We can barely afford security cameras on the front door, much less the roof, so nothing's being taped. This is as close to being able to speak freely as possible. But fine, if you came to speak in riddles, whatever..." Karrin isn't liking it, though, and the skepticism is clear in her bloodshot blue eyes.

The other questions draw a bit of a look from her. She doesn't answer at first, but takes another long sip of her coffee. "Lots of people who'd want him dead. Board members who don't like what he's doing with the company. Possibly someone who thinks he knows more than he should. Whomever stands to inherit Wayne Enterprises. A spurned ex-lover. Humans are, generally, fairly horrible things. There is never a shortage of reasons to kill one if someone is crazy enough." While Murphy isn't entirely in the cynical, careless cop portion of her life, she's certainly walking the tight rope of being hopelessly cynical. "...as for the right one, we have a body. I... am sure some DNA tests could be done, if we can get ahold of a hairbrush or something. But... is there a reason we SHOULDN'T have the right one?" Karrin asks, her eyes now narrowing suspiciously.

Batman has posed:
The man shakes his head. "Were your security the only thing constraining me from speaking more openly, this conversation would be quite different." He raises a hand, palm upward. "Your question is an important one, and that may lead you to an answer."

He inhales deeply and clears his throat. "Bruce Wayne is dead. But I can tell you this much: Bruce Wayne is not dead. It might be even more accurate to say that while many Bruce Waynes have been dead, many more Bruce Waynes are not dead."

Karrin Murphy has posed:
"...You sound like an insane man, you know that? And, you realize, implying that Bruce Wayne is not dead makes me jump to the conclusion that either YOU are the original Bruce Wayne or you are working with or very close to him. You dress fancy enough. Most vigilantes in this city don't have enough money to go around with gold links on their very pretty capes." Karrin states flatly, nodding towards the clasp at his throat that she did not miss in the darkness. She stares hard at him as she makes that accusation, his reaction to it will give her as much information as his circling words have.

Batman has posed:
The man stares at her silently as she suggests his identity. When she finishes speaking, he continues staring...and then chuckles, which rolls into louder and more continued laughter that contrasts greatly with the coolness of his statements.

He laughs for several long seconds before calming himself. "Officer Murphy," he states, "I thank you for that gift of laughter. It is not often that I have the opportunity."

The man places his hands on his hips. "For your generosity, I will offer a quote. 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.' But that itself is a limited view. This is not the only conversation we have had, or will have. Many are happening right now. Many will never happen. We have met, we meet, we will meet, we have never met."

Karrin Murphy has posed:
The silence that comes in response is a hard stare that says Karrin Murphy actually might be considering murder herself. Still, he has given her information. His response has, practically, confirmed for her that Bruce Wayne isn't dead. Whether he's sponsoring this strange mad man or is this strange mad man, she has no clue. And then he's going on about meetings, and Karrin's just had it.

Calm as can be, like she does this every night, Karrin reaches up and directly tosses the rest of her cup of luke warm coffee in his face. "...Oops. Sorry. I thought maybe you were having a seizure. You're rambling like a mad man. Sometimes cold water snaps people out of it, but I only had coffee. Sorry. It was an emergency. For your health, you know." She deadpans flatly, no regret in her voice. "...That being said, well... if you don't have more sane information to give me, it seems I'm out of coffee. I'll need a refill."

Batman has posed:
Murphy's coffee soars through the air toward the man's face. Right when it would make contact, though, the liquid instead continues its airborne trajectory /through/ the man and splats a second later on the rooftop surface behind him.

"Please forgive me, Officer. I would readily serve as the target of your frustration, but...as is so often the case...I am reminded that I am merely a phantom to the world of men." He purses his lips, the corners of his mouth drawn into a slight frown.

"I urge you to think on our conversation. I hope it can bring you the answers you seek. The information you need is at hand--it just may require looking at the world from a different angle altogether. One that may not normally be visible."

As he finishes speaking, the man begins to disappear, fading away like smoke.

Karrin Murphy has posed:
"Lieutenant. I'm a *Lieutenant, buddy. I worked hard for that title, use it." Karrin half growls, the frustration clear in her voice, only growing deeper as the man disappears like that and manages to avoid her coffee. She really needed to coffee someone. And then the man is pulling his literal disappearing act. Karrin stares, watching him as he literally dissolves into nothingness in front of her. No shadows, no side stepping, no fancy cape flip. He just fades out of existence.

Well. That shouldn't be possible.

The woman waits until he entirely goes and then, where he was previously, she reaches through the air and shoves her fist into the side of the building's over hang a few moments as she mutters, "Damned." Punch. "Frustrating." Punch. "Idiot. Magic. Men." Between each word, she stuffs her knuckles intk brick in frustration. There. That feels a bit better. She then sighs, still exhausted and coffeeless. She turns on the ball of her foot and heads back inside, calling down the hallway as she hits the main floor, "We need to get a DNA test on Bruce Wayne's body..."