Sarah closes the door behind her, as she enters from the Stairwell.
Sarah has arrived.

The second floor is abuzz with activity. Some of the cubicles have been
cleared away. Some of the older desks have been pushed into the stairwell.
Police officers, detectives and federal agents from a dozen precincts and
a half-dozen agencies come and go.  Phones ring off the hooks, even now,
late at night. Photographs of the Joker's grinning face and the dull
mugshots of his suspected accomplices litter the desks...evidence reports,
crime scene photos, all these form a mishmash of activity under the buzz
of conversation, speculation and the continual clatter of ancient computer
keyboards and even typewriters. It happens every time the Joker does
something big. Even off-duty officers hang around, where they won't be in
the way, but where they can help when needed. The fax machine hums. The
phones bleep. And they probably will until the Joker is dead or back in
Arkham... 

The stairwell door is pushed open, before Sarah appears, the door swinging
shut behind her. With a swish to her hips, her legs carry her towards the
coffee machine, a can of coffee linked under her arm. With purpose to her
stride, she sets it down, before heading back to her desk, avoiding one
officer, striding straight down the aisle, people avoiding her afterwards.
Her expression shows only too well she isn't one to be messed with at this
moment. 

Gordon enters the main room from his office. He looks visibly tired, and
worn out. He probably should have left hours ago, but alas he is still
here. He seems to be looking for someone, and finds her arriving from the
stairwell. "Lieutenant." 

Agent Barnes and the FCC team, knowing all too well how much they are
outclassed, disassemble Joker's transmitters in the corner and argue over
a map of the Gotham sewer system how best to send the teams in to find and
remove them. From time to time they look up at the police officers
plaintively, hoping they are making better progress, but they never are. 

Sarah's head swivels as she hears Gordon's voice, changing her pattern
through the maze of desks and officers, she pointedly makes her way over
to Gordon. "Yes Commission?" Her eyes dart, unconsciously over to Barnes,
before back to Gordon. There is a line to her mouth, still ever the cool
composure to her form. 

An officer waves a phone at Sarah. "Lieutenant...the FBI agents down at
the National Guard post say they've got a break...they're on their way up
here." If it's anything like the last eight 'breaks' in the case, it's
probably just more questions. 

Gordon looks to Sarah "I see we are both are here late....." He pauses
hearing the officer "Well.. we may have the answer to my question
forthcoming." 

Sarah's a few feet from Gordon, as the officer speaks, her attention split
now between the two, with a nod to her head, silken blonde waves sweeping
over her shoulder, she acknowledges the man's voice. Her head turns as she
regards Gordon, finally able to close the gap between the two. "So it would seem.."

Barnes says "No, no...he's got to be blocking the other satellite relay,
he can't be blocking it at the source." Another FCC agent: "But how do you
know that?" More technical argument erupts from the engineers. A very
tired-looking Fire Department arson investigator pores over photographs of
the burned-out movie theatres. A bomb squad member (they somehow always
manage to look alert) goes over a diagram of the TV station for the
umpteenth time. If something is to turn up on these, it's a matter of the
one thing that the GCPD doesn't have: time.


Gordon hms and nods, catching site of agent Barnes, before looking back to
Sarah "For once I'd like to see a true break, but unfortunately all we get
are more questions... and the mayor and press are starting to give more
pressure than usual... if that's possible." 

One hand sweeps through Sarah locks, eyes narrowing to slits, her
expression is bleak, hiding any exhaustion by her stubborn personality
alone. "Its their entertainment he's trying to destroy. " Her voice turns
cold, as she moves over to the nearest desk, the only sign of her feet
hurting. She leans against it, hands planted on each side of her. "They
want action, and we aren't able to give it.. yet.." 

Gordon hrms "If we don't get anything soon the only action people are
going to see are more funerals I fear." 

The door to the stairwell sweeps open and two haggard men in black suits
enter. They approach Sarah quickly...though so many new faces have
appeared around the station that it's a strangely gutwrenching moment
before she recognizes Agent Drake of the FBI, though his partner is
unfamiliar. 

Sarah's mouth quirks into a deep scowl, before her attention is focused on
the two FBI men. With a raised eyebrow, her body straightens,
considerably, all profession, she turns to face the men, an imposing
figure, one hand extends. "Good morning Agent Drake." She intones without
emotion. "I hope you have some good news?" 

Gordon straightens his glasses as he watches the two men. He remains quiet
for now. His mood is one that says 'you better have good news or else'. 

Agent Drake is smoking almost without knowing the cigarette is attached to
his upper lip. "We got the guy who swiped the National Guard truck for the
Joker." he says. His partner swigs down the last of a caffeinated water
bottle. "He was trying to hock the tires. He says the Joker stiffed him.
Don't know much more, he's being transferred in from the Pihlly field
office." 

There is a light to Sarah's eyes, as she listens, before her mouth strays
into a soft line. "He being protected ..?" There is a dangerous tone to
her voice, gaze darting from Drake to his partner, then back. 

Drake nods. "As much as the Bureau can afford. Plus the Guard is not
fooling around with this one either. Now do you want the bad news, or do
you want to wait for the report?" His partner sneers at his shoes and
mutters something about how there won't be any film at 11.

Gordon eyes the cigarette, annoyed by it. One thing an ex-smoker just does
not need. He clears his throught a bit. 

With a voice of razor sharpness, Sarah states, "Give it all now, we might
as well have it at once, than wait to read it." Her eyes continue to
narrow, expression dark. One hand rests on her hips, the other strays at
her side, a picture of quiet confidence. 

Gordon's eyes narrow slightly on Drake "Yes out with it Agent. If I'm
going to hear it on the news I better have a counter response prepaired in
advance." 

Drake says "We got the final manifest on what was in the truck. According
to the Philly RA, Smiles has a lot to smile about. Plastic explosives, but
we already knew that. Grenades. A fifty caliber machine gun. Riot guns,
fully loaded." He sighs heavily. "The street value of these things is
huge. And I mean huge. But we haven't seen one. Not one gun, not one
bullet, nothing." Drake pulls hard on his cigarette. "We can't miss them
when we see them, either. He's still got them. And ten will get you twenty
at Quantico that he'll use them."

For the briefest of moments, Sarah's face pales, swallowing hard, her gaze
darts over to Jim, then back to Agent Drake. The action takes only a few
seconds, before her calm, professionalism recovers, a low sound eminating
as she speaks. "Oh just great." Before she's motioning to the door. "When
will we be able to speak with the guy?" 

Gordon rubs his temples slightly oO (Be ready to run the gauntlet with the
press again tomorrow Jim) Oo

Drake doesn't react to Sarah's reaction, probably because he had a similar
one. "Tomorrow." he says. "Tomorrow evening. Ah, sir, I'm glad you're
still here." Drake straightens up and tries (unsuccesfully) to look Gordon
in the eye. "With your permission, I'd like to put in a request for FBI
SWAT:Tactical to reinforce your people. I know the GCPD is underfunded.
They'd be put in as backup for your people and strictly under the
Lieutenant's orders as case officer. Er. Is that acceptable to you? Sir."
He stammers out. Fatigue is beginning to show. The partner opens another
bottle of caffeinated water. 

Sarah's eyes flash at this, as she nods slowly. "Good." She states with
all sincerety at the 'tomorrow' bit. As he speaks with Gordon, she allows
her hand to move to the back of her neck, gently rubbing the skin and
knots out. 

Gordon gives a slow nod "That's fine Agent Drake. You're right, we could
use some backup on this one. Do whatever it take to bring the Joker in.
The sooner he is put down, the less headaches we all shall have. I'm sure
you are as anxious to get home just as much as we are."

The partner lets out a dark chuckle despite himself. Drake nods. "Yes,
sir. Well, good night Lieutenant...good night, Commissioner." The partner
just gives a perfunctory wave and they withdraw. One of the engineers has
fallen asleep at his desk. 

With a raised eyebrow, Sarah's sharp eyes catch sight of the engineer, a
smirk to her face as she picks up a small eraser and flings it at him, the
aim quite, surprisingly good, as it flicks him on the head, before she
turns around to face Gordon. "I want first crack at the guy. " Her mouth
strays into a quiet and perfect scowl. She's not about to take 'no' for an
answer on this. 

The engineer yipes and sits up. Barnes sniggers. "Go home, Neubaten." he
says. Neubaten staggers blearily down the stairs, then returns a moment
later for his coat, then returns a moment later for his glasses. 

Gordon gives a small smile and nods "Of course Lieutenant, he's all yours.
Should I have Jeremiah Arkham standing by to care for him afterwards?" 

Sarah remains emotionless, as the poor man keeps returning for his items,
though, her mouth quirks, just a bit. Finally with a sigh, she's facing
Gordon completely, with a hmm. "Yeah, might be best." 

Gordon moves to the coatrack by his office door and gets his. Turning
while putting it on he says to Sarah "I'm heading home Sarah, coming?" 

Sarah's hand moves through her hair, eyes narrowing to slits again,
glancing around to make sure no one notices, she moves back to the desk,
leaning against it to raise one leg up, crooked at the knee, with some
obversation, you'd note her feet are killing her. At first she doesn't
hear Jim, her hand moving to the back of her neck again, rubbing the kinks
out, before it hits that he's grabbing his coat. Straightening, "Yeah,
lets go.."