Jinny — Roleplayer Guild

Talia al Ghul | The Demon's Head | Assassin
"You may have to fight a battle more than once to win it."

Gotham City

Neon lights flickered overhead, streetlamps reflected dimly against wet pavement, the familiar wail of sirens screamed in the distance, a trio of prostitutes chattered amongst themselves outside of a nearby corner store. One could argue that Gotham City became more colorful and made more noise when darkness fell than it ever achieved during daylight hours. Harvey Bullock shuffled through the streets, ignoring the cautious and knowing glances of the hookers and puffing away on the cigarette in his hand. Up ahead the dimly lit sign of the bar beckoned. The stocky fellow stopped only long enough to drop and stamp out the spent cigarette butt, when a car pulled up alongside him. It was a luxury town car, pitch black, similar to those he'd seen the mafia headmen traipsing about in. He tensed, wondering if he was being pegged for a less graceful exit than Jim Gordon had been granted, while simultaneously weighing the chances of an impending bribe from whichever don occupied the car. 

Harvey didn't move, staring blankly at his reflection in the tinted window. Finally, after what seemed like eons, the window eased down with a mechanical whir. To his surprise he wasn't greeted by a familiar face, or any face at all. Inside the vehicle was dark and the light from the streetlamp overhead only shone in enough for Harvey to lay eyes upon a pair of tawny, shapely legs clad in a fitted pencil skirt. The woman sat on the far side of the vehicle behind the chauffeur, but her face was indiscernible in the darkness. 

When she spoke her voice was carefully measured and richly accented, "Get in. I won't ask a second time."

Despite popular opinion, Harvey wasn't a complete idiot and he had enough common sense to glean that whoever this woman was he wanted nothing to do with her. At least, not if there wasn't something in it for him, and if she was offering anything she'd have said so upfront. It was his experience that anyone that was on the streets in this area of town at this hour was usually up to no good. He braced a hand on the roof of the car and bent down, "Sorry lady, whatever you're sellin' I ain't interested." With that he straightened himself and turned to continue toward the bar, only to be swiftly halted by a towering man stepping into his path. The man was clad in all black military-grade fatigues with a full face mask and tactical vest. Harvey didn't have to assess him to read that he was carrying weapons on his person. A lot of them. 

Behind him the woman's voice chimed nonchalantly, "Alternatively, my companion would be all too happy to....coerce you." When Harvey didn't immediately comply she pressed on, "I promise, I intend you no harm. A moment of your time is all I require, Detective."

Bullock frowned, his eyes narrowing on the imposing thug in front of him. After a moment of further hesitation he muttered bitterly to himself and turned back around, opening the car door and taking a seat beside the mysterious woman who seemed so oddly insistent on speaking to him. The moment the door shut behind him the car lurched forward and Harvey felt momentary panic, suddenly positive he had just signed his death certificate. He turned to the woman sitting an arm's length from him, attempting to memorize or place her face in the limited and infrequent streams of light that passed overhead as the car moved along the road. 

Talia did not immediately acknowledge the detective, allowing him a moment to weigh the situation and realize that his full cooperation was in his own best interest. Bullock was by no means the sharpest blade in the armory, but he was at least wise enough to know that he could not gain the upper hand in this situation and his freedom was currently at her discretion. The proviso, of course, being that that he divulge the information she requested of him.  

Unsurprisingly, the detective's impatience and trepidation getting the better of him, as he did not wait for her to breach the subject of their meeting, "Alright, what's the deal, what's a broad like you want from me?"

Talia's posture changed only slightly, her shoulders rotating back but a fraction, her chin lifting in the faintest manner. And yet somehow her displeasure was conveyed so clearly that she could feel his disquiet at the prospect of having inadvertently angered her. The silence that followed his blunt words was heavy, intentional, and she sensed he could feel the ire in her expression despite that he could not see it. The quiet didn't stretch for long, however, and her response was quickly forthcoming and rather to the point, "You worked alongside James Gordon during his time as the Commissioner." It was a statement, not a question or an answer to his inquiry, "Tell me, what were the conditions of his retirement?" Before Harvey could recite his practiced refutal of having any knowledge on the matter she continued, "Don't bother lying to me, Detective Bullock. I know the company you keep and I am already aware of the gossip of Gordon being forced out. I simply need further information from a source more....closely related to the subject at hand."

There was a warning so subtle but distinct in her voice. A threat that easily could have been missed by anyone that didn't run in circles with dangerous thugs on a daily basis. Fortunately for Talia, Harvey caught on to her implication, and if he was a detective at all worth his salt then he could easily determine that she wasn't the type to make idle threats. Peripherally she noted his body language, telegraphing his discomfort as he rubbed at his face with his right hand, glanced out the car window to take note of the streets they were passing and turns that were being made, attempting to gauge where they were going and undoubtedly wondering if his life was truly in peril.

When he finally replied it was with obvious unease in his voice, "There's some chatter. All speculation, really, but some folks are insisting Gordon's retirement wasn't....kosher. The idea is that if it was just Gordon stepping out then it wouldn't be anything strange, but both his Chief of Police and the Captain of the MCU also stepped down and it's caused all manner of racket in the department. No one will say it out loud but anyone who cares thinks the sudden regime change was an executive order from the higher ups. Some even go so far as to pin it on Gotham's shiny new Mayor. Right now Burrows is acting Commissioner, but no one is expecting that to last long."

Another moment of silence, wherein Talia processed the information he had given. She found herself questioning if Batman's disappearance and Gordon's forced retirement had any connection. She already knew that the Court of Owls had more than a little to do with Bruce's disappearance and she had her assets combing through Gotham's city records for clues regarding the Court's base of operations. Political manipulation was directly within the Court's wheelhouse, so to speak, and if they were once again attempting to retake the city they considered theirs then removing threats to their control would be among the first steps in their plan. That would entail Batman and Gordon, and likely anyone who followed their ideals. Gordon's regime of non-corrupt officials made it difficult for the old money bureaucrats to bend the city to their will, and the presence of the Batman and his affiliates had a habit of inspiring a desire for justice among the city's occupants.         

Talia paused her train of thought to muse over at a later time, confident she had obtained enough information on the subject to pursue the matter when time was of less importance. When she spoke again she shifted the gears of the conversation, "It's my understanding that Batman has been distinctly....absent for some time, and I know this city well enough to determine that hasn't gone without notice or consequence."

She didn't state a question, in the most literal sense, but Bullock read her meaning easily enough, "Some of the Bat's whack jobs have been taking advantage of the situation, especially with the Clown's death. Gangs and mobsters have been getting ballsy and moving in again. Curious thing though, there's been an uptick in vigilanteism, mostly youngin's running around playing hero. One of 'em is even claiming she's Robin."

Green eyes narrowed, one dark brow arching inquisitively as the detective's use of pronouns caught her attention. She spoke one word, "She?"

Bullock nodded, "Yeah. She. Pretty young, not as young as the other one though, the boy. Not as good, either. Hell, I don't even know, I can't keep track of 'em anymore. We got footage of her on quite a few video feeds, she's not nearly as...covert as the others."

"Interesting." was her only response. The prospect of fledgling vigilantes taking to Gotham's streets was certainly nothing new, but Bullock's comment on this "Robin" and her lack of stealth told Talia all she needed to know. And just what did Damian have to say about this "Robin" imposter? Whoever this girl was, she was lucky Batman wasn't around, as he was not fond of inexperienced children taking it upon themselves to join his crusade. However, that didn't go to say the actual Robin wouldn't step in and set the naïve girl straight.   

As the town car rounded another corner she noticed Bullock straighten, recognition alight on his face as he laid eyes upon the same street corner he'd been picked up from. Anxiously he glanced back at her, disbelief in his tone, "So we're done here, that's all you wanted?"

"For now." She extended a card to him, it was black with a matte finish and held no other information besides a number in raised lettering, also in black. 

He looked caught off guard, as if expecting her to draw a weapon on him instead. When he looked at the card, however, he seemed angered. Perhaps he was emboldened by the naïve assumption that he was out of the woods, because the words he spoke then seemed void of the cautious respect he'd employed for most of the car ride, "Listen lady, I don't know who you are but I got my own allegiances to look out for, with people who don't nab me off the streets against my will. I'm not interested in being your lackey, got it, sweet cheeks?"

Before Bullock could utter another word there was a sudden blur of motion and he found himself gasping for air, clutching at his throat as it suddenly felt like a noose was around his neck. There was nothing around his throat though, and it wasn't caused by his necktie either. He shot a desperate glare across the cabin of the car at the woman, who looked as though she hadn't even moved an inch. Despite that he was struggling to breathe he managed to eek out a smattering of words, "...You promised....no....harm...."

Talia turned her head toward him, her reply concise and chilled, "Promises are fickle things, and should never be taken at face value. You disrespected me, and you would do well to remember that doing so nullifies any guarantee of safety." Bullock's gasps were becoming louder with each breath as he panicked, "Calm yourself, Detective. The more you struggle the longer you'll suffer. It's only a temporary blockage of your trachea caused by inflammation, trying to talk simply makes it worse. You'll survive, though you won't be able to speak properly for several days. Instead, why don't you attempt to listen carefully to what I am telling you: You will take this information and use it to contact me if you happen upon any further information regarding Gordon's forced retirement. If you cooperate then you have nothing to worry about, but do trust me when I say that I have eyes all over Gotham and avoiding me will only cause you more trouble than it's worth."

The car eased to a halt in the exact place the detective had been picked up. Bullock's vision was fading, blurred and dark at the edges, and as he blindly scrambled for the latch of the door it suddenly opened from the outside. The fatigue-clad leviathan from moments before reached in to seize hold of Bullock by the back of his collar and yank him out of the vehicle. Still disoriented, Harvey rolled out onto the sidewalk, gasping and heaving. The brute stepped over him and into the car, and Harvey struggled to watch as the car drove off, his vision too hazy to clearly make out the license plate. It took another several minutes on his hands and knees on the sidewalk for the detective to find a proper way to breathe that was only somewhat less painful, and only when his vision began to clear and his eyes stopped watering was he able to make out the crisp black card laying on the sidewalk in front of him.

As a small note for everyone, I personally prefer to carve out a slightly different version of the characters rather than stick doggedly to what has been established in the canon.@Roosan
I think most (if not everyone) would be on the same page with that. That's the great thing about comic characters, they lend themselves pretty well to multiple variant/original takes on their characterization because they've been handled differently by so many writers and their canon history is already all over the place :P

B:TAS has always been my favourite version of the Rogues Gallery and the image on the first page of the OOC makes me think of it so I was using that version. Not exactly friends but not really enemies either.@Roosan
P.S. @Ruby changed the B:TAS-esque red sky image on the first page of the OOC and I'm still trying to convince her to change it back....>.>

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