War on Terrorism in Gotham

January 14, 2015:

Lois Lane and John Walker meet at GCPD.

GCPD Headquarters


NPCs: None.


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

John Walker has finished with the Commissioner, filling the local police in on his arrival in the city, the scale and scope of his mission, and the powers afforded him by the Patriot Act, God and the United States of America, in that order. He stands out for sheer size, 6'4" and broad, like a pick-up truck, his black suit almost bulging at the seems to accomodate his musculature. He catches a few resentful glances from the detective pool, but pays them no mind. The locals never like having to cede control. They think they can do better.

If they could do better, he wouldn't be here.

He pauses for a moment to use the water fountain, refreshing himself as much as he can on the swill that runs in Gotham's pipes. Reminder: bring bottled water when in the field. Or a canteen. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, almost running into a pretty brunette coming out of a different office.

"'Scuse me, ma'am," he says with a hint of southern in his voice, taking a polite step back, his posture ramrod straight.

Don't know what pretty brunette he's talking about, but he did nearly run into Lois Lane. She was a new transfer herself, civilian wise, carrying a case that was soon set down upon the nearby chair as she effectively dodges the man. She was lost in her own thoughts, fingers dialing against the code that kept the case locked until its opened and reveals two new shiny glocks. For ladies of course!

"Oh. Sorry." She finally says, giving the rather tall and burly man a look over. He was something to shake a stick at, but nothing that she'd worry about, at least not right now.

The glocks were soon taken from their case and settled upon her person, the papers that were left inside folded up and stuck into her back pocket. It was cold as ice in Gotham, the peacoat that she wore did nothing to shake the chill.

John Walker looks at the guns with a raised eyebrow. Pistol packin' mama. He didn't necessarily approve of women in the workplace, but, if they were going to be there, at least have them well-armed. "Nice guns," he says genuinely. "Glock's a good idea, the lighter weight's gonna let you keep your aim steady and reduce the kick."

He gestures for her to walk ahead of him, the elevator just a few steps away, "Judging by your coat, I suspect we're going the same way?" he says.

The case was left behind in the chair, there was no sense carrying it when she really didn't need it after all. She's heard of the cases in Gotham, and if she was going to try her hand at actually doing Private Investigative work? Her feet and hands probably wouldn't be the thing to protect her. "Thank you." She smiles, her own genuine to his compliment.

"Oh. I know all about that Sir." She wasn't bragging, but she did shoot a gun or two in her time. As he motions the way, she gives a slight nod and begins to walk ahead, her scarf tugged a bit from her peacoat and fixed around her neck so that the air doesn't kiss or lick the skin.

"I really can't say that you're not from these parts, as I'm not. But you seem like you're a little bit too polite for this crowd. New transfer? New promotion?" Journalist by heart, it was almost her nature to question things. "Oh. Sorry." She stops abruptly, pushing the down button upon the elevator. "I'm Lois Lane." She reaches out a hand for him to shake, bright eyes resting upon his, albeit briefly.
John Walker chuckles, "I do admit, the people up here could probably use a lesson or two in manners. I'm from Georgia myself," he says. "John Walker," he says, taking her hand, his big mitt swallowing her delicate fingers.

"Lois Lane. The reporter? I thought you lived in Metropolis," he says. He's not generally a fan of the press, as a rule, but they had their purpose as long as they remembered their place. And that meant she was, "Sam Lane's daughter? I had the honor of meeting your father several times." he says, "Is he well? I'm afraid I haven't kept up since I left the service."

"John Walker? Pleasure to meet you." He was a Georgia boy, they were either real asshole backwood hicks or pure gentlemen, yes ma'am's and thank you darlins'. Lois herself was a city girl, she was used to rude, could handle the entire spectrum if she had a chance.

She does nod, releasing his large hand as the elevator dings open. "Ex-reporter. For now. I'm taking a hiatus to see if I can give the Private Investigation business a go." And.. dear god. He knew her dad and was in the service. She could see it now; when doing a background check on John Walker, General Lane will call and give his personal best. But she keeps that smile upon her face as she steps in and presses the button for the first floor. "He's doing just fine, as well as any man of his stature could be. If I talk to him next, I'll tell him you wish him well."

Yeah, she's gonna call. "What are you doing here in Gotham?"

John Walker smiles, "I'd appreciate that. Private investigator, eh?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "You going to get a fedora to go with that peacoat, then?" he smiles. When she asks about his business, he seems perfectly at ease.

"I'm the new Director of Homeland Security here in Gotham. Under my costumed identity of U.S. Agent, I'm going to remove the scourge of terrorist scum from the city. With my foot." he says. "I'm quite looking forward to it."

"Hah." She barked out, glancing up towards the number upon the elevator. The floor wouldn't come fast enough. "I don't need a fedora. Thank you very much.." As far as she was concerned? Conversation over. She really didn't know the man well enough to joke with him about her chosen profession, she was sure she could hear Clark now scoff at her decision, ask her not to go, say she was making a big mistake and.. probably flying high above Gotham to keep watch.

Leaving in secret? Best way to do things.

As the door opens, she takes a step forward, her hand catching the edge of it with a slight smirk. "Gotham, doesn't have terrorists." She states plainly, then steps out as soon as she feels the strain of it against her fingers. "Gotham is the birth place of criminals and shady deals in the dark. There aren't any terrorists here."

John Walker shakes his head, "That's where you're wrong. Terrorist just a kind of criminal. A criminal who inflicts terror with mayhem, violence and a total disregard for the innocent. Sounds to me like most of the people they have locked up in that collander they call an asylum," he says. "I'm not interested in arguing semantics. I'm interested in getting results and making this city safer. IF that means I have to call the Joker a terrorist so I can knock his teeth down his grinning throat, so be it."

The elevator reaches the bottom floor and he gestures out mildly, saying all of this in a cool and even tone, "Ladies first," he says, gesturing for her to go ahead.

Inwardly, Lois' head tilted back as she stared at the ceiling, releasing a low growl of anger yet, Outwardly? She was pleased as punch. She exits the door, her hand lifting to rub at the back of her neck as she gives a slight wave towards the man in question. "Well. I do wish you good luck in your endeavors." Read: Stay out of my way.

"Pretty sure I'll be seeing you tomorrow, there are a few more things I need to pick up here. Til then, stay out of trouble, ya' hear?" Now, she was slightly mocking him, but chances are he probably wouldn't pick up on her tone.

John Walker laughs, walking behind her as they make their way towards the front doors of City Center, "Oh, these aren't my offices. I was just clearing up a few jurisdictional issues with the commissioner. PDs tend to get a little wary of federal intervention, and I was just assuring him I'm here to work with him, not over him." Even if that was, technically true, and he'd remind the Commissioner of it if there was any squawking.

He easily catches up with her, stepping ahead and opening the glass doors before she can reach them, holding it open, "And it's my job to go looking for trouble, Miss Lane. Sounds to me like we might be in the same sort of business. Maybe we could talk about it further sometime." he says, "There's gotta be someplace here that serves a decent steak without drownin' it in Frenchy bullshit, right?"

"So where are you set up exactly?" Lois asks. But she does seem a little baffled that he did make nice and not sneak into town as most. He really was the polite sort. Even when he opens the door, she stops, eying him warily and bundling herself up as she steps out into the chill.

"We possibly might be in the same sort of business, I completely agree. I don't have any cards or anything made up just yet.. but.." She tugs her purse close to her, digging into the thick of it to draw out a piece of ruined paper and a pen to scrawl her number across. "I'm not too familiar with Gotham, but I'm sure a quick internet search could bring up at least a neutral place for us to meet and eat. Just find one.." Her voice trails off, as the paper is ripped in two and her number offered. "Give me a call. I'll be staying at the Gotham's Arms until I find a permanent setting."

John Walker nods, "I'm starting out in the Federal building, just down the block, but I'm hoping to rent a bigger space. Might have to do it out of my own pocket, though - the budget's already stretched kind of thin. Nature of the beast. At least I'm not an accountant," he says, taking the card. "Do you have a car waiting or a taxi? I wouldn't recommend walking alone at night. I'd be happy to escort you, I have no pressing business." Even if he did, he wouldn't just leave a woman to walk in Gotham at night by herself. Unless she was a whore.

Lois smiles, always one to give off friendly advice. "You're better off staying in the Federal Building. Renting your own place is asking for it to be.. well.." She stops in her cadence, people were probably going to blow up the Federal Building no matter what. "Just let them spend the money and do that crap for you." Which is what her dad would have said.

Though, she holds up her hand, giving a slight shake of her head. "I don't need an escort. I'm fine." She was pretty sure, that at least one of her screams would garner the attention of the man of steel, and then the talk would be had as to why she was in Gotham in the first place. That's what happens when you leave a note. "I'm loaded to the nines and I know how to handle myself just fine." The General's daughter, ladies and gentlemen.
John Walker grins, he can't help it, at that last bit, "Fair enough. Never be afraid to resort to Second Amendment remedies," he says. "And you're probably right. It's just my pride saying that it ought to be better. But pride's a sin, ain't it? I always forget that one. You take care, little lady." he says.

He lets Lois get a few steps down the street and steps into the alley. Most of the bulk of the suit is him. Some is the shield strapped to his back. It only takes him a minute to move from his civvies to his costume, pulling the hood up into place by the time he's climbed the fire escape and jumped onto the roof. This rooftop crap was annoying. He wasn't a fucking acrobat in short pants, he was a grown ass man. Luckily, his strength made it easy to leap from roof to roof, although he had to land in a roll unless he wanted to sound like a stomping giant. He'd get the hang of it. And this way, he could sleep easy knowing Lois got home safe. His Mama would never forgive him if he let a general's daughter get mugged on his watch.

"See you later." Lois smiled and turned, and walked away. There was no need for her to.. okay. She looked back, only to see no one standing there. Good. Probably better. So, she walked. It wasn't a far stint, not too far at least for Lois to speed walk her way through the cold, nearly at a half run, gloved hands pressed against her coat to keep it snug against her neck as she pushed on like she was in the blizzard of the year.

"Hey! Hey little mama! Gimme that purse?" A guy called out. She was small as he was tall, and a little bit bulky to boot. And she was heading right towards him with no intentions of slowing down.

"I said.. give me that purse!"

He reaches a hand out towards Lois which was soon smacked away, the same hand chopping him right in the throat as he grips his hands around and struggle to breathe, her foot drawing back and launching upright to kick him right between the thighs.

"Sorry friend. My mother always said to keep your tampons on you at all times. Need my purse to conceal them. You know, being a proper lady and all.."

She continues to speed walk on, glancing back every now and then to watch the would-be robber fall, and groan, and cough.. and with no retribution coming her way, she dashes her way across the street and into the Gotham Arm's. Safe, sound, and warm.

The robber swears to himself, muttering about bitches and slinking off into an alley. Right into a very wide, very strong chest.

"You're a very stupid little man," U.S. Agent says. He snatches the scum by the throat and yanks him into the darkness. The sound of screaming and bones snapping is all that can be heard for a moment.

Kneecaps are such fragile things.

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