Sergeant Parran is a bulky man who looks fat: he isn't. He looms over his
desk, where three men wearing Fire Department badges spread photographs
before him, explaining something carefully. He pays half attention to them
and half attention to the charred flyer in a plastic bag. He looks up as
Gordon comes into the room and stiffens involuntarily. If he were
standing, he'd probably be at attention. "Evening, sir." he rumbles.
"Copycat." he says conversationally, and conversation all around him stops
on a dime. 

Gordon hms and turns slightly towards Parran at the sudden silence
"Sargent. Have something?" 

Parran nods. "Yessir." he says, extending a thick finger at the Fire
Department officials. "Three theatres down south got firebombed this
morning. Flyers ranting about protecting kids got found. But it isn't the
Joker. Not his flyers. Different sort of bomb: more haphazard, less
well-planned. We got a lot of witnesses on this one." He frowns mightily.
"The crazies are coming out of the woodwork." 

Gordon hrms walking to the coffee pot to refill his cup before returning
to Parran "How many injuries this time? " 

Parran scowls. "Ten. Three fatals, medical examiner says they'd been
drinking. Probably passed out and never woke up." 

Gordon sips his coffee slowly then nods "Just what we need." He says
sarcastically "I want this made a top priority Sargent. I'll handle it
personally if need be. What have the witnesses said? Any leads?" 

Parran nods. "We have a partial license plate and a few of them actually
saw the guy. Twentyish, white, bald, scar or burn on scalp." He frowns
down at the papers as if by force of will he can turn them into the Joker. 

Gordon takes another sip of java, thinking quietly "Have the plate
cross-referenced with any and all makes of the car. Take this suspect's
photo and make sure it is run through all the mug shot photos. Chances are
this is a guy we've seen before, thug just wanting to become a hot shot."
He paces slightly as he speaks and thinks aloud "He probably hasn't left
Gotham yet either. This is a guy who wants attention, probably bragging
about his crime spree already as it hits the 6 o'clock news." 

Parran nods. "Yes, sir." Then he frowns again. "There is no six o'clock
news, sir." he says. "Just radio." 

Gordon gives Parran a glance at the last comment "I don't need you to
remind me Sargent, just find me this man.... now." 

Parran barks out swiftly, "Yes, sir!" He gathers up the papers and heads
down the stairs, edging around Barnes and the engineers, who are each
talking on cellular phones very loudly, to crews of bomb squad recruits
and engineers somewhere beneath the city...

Gordon spots Sarah returning from the stairwell "Lieutenant Essen." He
motions her over, his tone says that he means /now/. 

Sarah makes her way into the room, the door to the stairs closing behind
her, before she's inside, gaze darting towards Gordon, one eyebrow arched
up in confusion, though she moves forward, quickly enough. Her mouth
strays into a fine line, "Of course Commissioner, she states coldy, hoping
this will be cleared up soon." 

The room is still abuzz with activity. The engineer's desks are still
jammed in the stairwell. They shout into cellular phones, trying to make
themselves heard to the crews beneath the city.... 

Gordon looks to Sarah, he's definately not in the greatest of moods "This
morning a fire bommer attacked another theater, ten injured, three fatal. 
Sargent Parran thinks it is a copycat crime. We have witnesses, a partial
ID on the vehicle, a sketch of the perp. Stop whatever you're doing, I
want this guy brought down yesterday." 

Gordon says "It is bad enough I have to tolerate the Joker and his mad
crime spree. I /won't/ tolerate this in my city! Understood?" 

In a brief nod, Sarah's head bobs down, then up, soft curls sliding around
her shoulders. Her eyes narrow to slits, voice sharp and efficient, a tone
that states as well, she's not about to tolarate it -or- Gordon's mood. 
"Understood." Is all she says, before she spins on her heels, depositing a
small folder onto her desk. Afterwards, she gazes onto Gordon, sharp blue
eyes scan his face, her mouth straying more into a scowl, "What do we have
confirmed?" 

Sergeant Parran returns to the room, his immense bulk twisting and pushing
past the desks impatiently. (To their credit, the engineers don't seem to
notice.) He's carrying a stack of Xeroxed sketches, and an original, which
he slides into the fax machine and presses the speed dial button.

Parran says "FBI says he isn't in their files, sir." in his booming voice
that carries above the hubbub easily. "Definitely local talent." 

Gordon says "We have part of the license plate and a description of the
suspect. I have Parran gathering more..." He hrms at Parran's news "...
Well if he's local he's still here, and probably not shy about his recent
act. Make sure our informants at the various bars and the like have a
sketch of this guy."

Sarah's arms cross over her chest, gaze darting towards the officer, then
back to Jim. She remains stiff, body rigid and unrelenting. With a sharp
tone, "Do we have a name, residence, something to connect with his current
location?" One foot gently taps on the ground, annoyed at this turn of events.

Parran rumbles, "I'm sending it out to the precincts now, sir. The patrols
are concentrating on the south areas of the city...if he's on the street,
we'll find him." He shakes his head respectfully to the Lieutenant, not
talking over her. 

Gordon nods to Parran, then looks back to the Lieutenant "People think
they can just get away with anything..." He hrms and cletches his fist
slightly "Well not this time, not on my watch." He says quietly

Sarah's mouth purses more, upper teeth biting down hard enough to drain
all color from her lips. One hand gently sweeps through her hair, a mildly
nerous reaction, though her face is set into a permanent scowl. Her eyes
narrow down to slits, thinking over the possibilities, until more
information is available, only thing to do is wait. Something that does
not bode well on anyone. Her eyes snap to Gordon, watching his face, use
to it enough to not comment or show emotion. 

Anxious minutes pass...about ten minutes later, Parran answers the phone
and hurriedly takes notes, then hangs up. "Got a name." he booms. "Night
staff at Sunnyvale Mental Health Clinic says it's Ivor Jonston,
an...er...." He looks at his notes. "...out patient. With a bord erline
per so nality disorder...." He jiggles the phone hook, then looks up at
the Lieutenant. "You've got more pull with the DA than me, you want to get
the warrant to open his files? I think Maxwell is catching tonight..." 

With a quiet noise, Sarah once again shifts her weight onto her other
foot. Hands plant behind her, propping herself against a desk, to wait out
the night. Her gaze darts to the officer, glancing him over, before
nodding quietly, her eyes dart to Gordon, checking with him first, just to
be sure.

Gordon nods once "Do it..." oO( Great another wanna-be crazy)Oo he thinks. 

With a brief nod in acknowledgement, Sarah moves towards the phone, the
receiver pressed against her ear, hair pushed aside, as she presses the
numbers in. Waiting a moment, her eyes scan the desk she's at, finally,
her voice rings out, asking for the D.A. Eventually, the conversation
begins, as she explains the situation. 

At this hour, the D.A. is less than happy about being woke up, turning
from the group, Sarah argues, taking enough from Gordon as is, and
expecting more tonight, she's in no mood to not get her way. Eventually,
the D.A. agrees, she can imagine its mostly due to the fact he wanted to
get back in bed. As the phone is hung up, her gaze darts towards the
officer. "Got it." Before a hand darts through her hair again, breathing a
quiet sigh of relief at that. 

Gordon waits for what seems like forever. It seems hard to tell if he's
feeling any better at the recent 'good' news. 

Sarah motions towards the officer. "Get on it, we need as much information
as we can. Hopefully gain a last residence, or some form of location." Her
mind races, as she scowls quietly, eyebrows furrowed down even more. 

Parran nods...in a few moments, the authorization to proceed arrives from
City Hall...he faxes it back to Sunnyvale...a few minutes on the phone...a
long fax rolls out. Parran grabs it and hustles it over to the Lieutenant
and the Commissioner, as if it were gold. He studies it as he walks, but
doesn't get very far past the cover sheet. "Current address...." he
mumbles. "That's the same neighborhood as the theatres." He hands it to
Sarah and returns to the phone. "Get me the Twentieth." he says into it
sharply. 

The paper is taken into Sarah's hands, gaze sweeping down over it, speed
reading the entire thing, skimming over the important parts. She shifts it
over just enough to allow Gordon to read as well, figuring he'll look over
her shoulder anyway. 

Gordon hms and reads "Seems he decided to visit his home... And judging
from his state of mind he probably hasn't moved far." 

Sarah nods, before she's moving to the phone. "Lets get swat on it, he'd
be gone by daylight, I fear otherwise, too hot and crazy not to." Her eyes
scan Gordon's, waiting for the official 'go ahead'. 

Jonston was a laid-off dockworker who was arrested in a porn bust. He
agreed to counseling: it was his first offense. The 'borderline
personality disorder' manifested itself as mood swings and belligerent
'political' extremism, according to the file. Parran, on the phone to the
Twentieth, directs them to pass around the sketch to all the officers and
get it to the informants, quick. 

Gordon nods "We can include the swat team, though I doubt a team that big
will be needed. We can probably handle this quietly.... And I want to be
there when he's taken." 

Sarah moves over to her desk, organizing the brief quickly in her mind, as
she scans the fax, reading carefully over each personality disorder and
skill. Her eyes sharpen over the picture, memorizing it, as best she can. 
Finally, her gaze darts to Gordon.  "Don't have many officers available at
the moment, though we can do this quickly with those we have." 

Gordon thinks for a few minutes then nods "We'll start at the home...
though I highly doubt we'll find him there." 

"Maybe enough information to lead us to his current location though. "
Sarah quips back, as she darts towards Gordon, then down the hallway.
"Have the bomb squad be ready, just in case." 


--------Meanwhile, across town...-----------

Gotham: Noonan's Sleazy Bar

        This place is exactly as advertised: a sleazy bar. Its a large,
airy, dimly lit place, everything inside it covered with multiple layers
of grime. The ceiling is low, the floorboards are bare, and the furniture
is battered and mismatched. Still, i t seems a friendly enough place. The
bar is to the right of the door: a long piece of scarred wood. Behind it
are shelves laden with all manner of alchohol: everything from whiskey to
paintstripper. The door set into the wall opposite the entrance leads t o
the back room. 

Places:
Bar  Table 1  Table 2  Table 3  Table 4  Table 5  Table 6 
Obvious exits:
Back Room <BR>  Out <O> 

Catwoman thinks . o O (Of those three, I'll stick with Oswald. He's not
psycho like Harv and Grinny. Just interested in money and luxuries. I can
admire that.) 


Catwoman

     Sleek is one description, statuesque is another. Dressed in the dark
royal color of purple, she blends in to shadows. When seen, she is tall,
almost the height of a man, but nobody would mistake her for one. The
cloth hugs her body tightly, revealing a strong, sensuous form, one part
sleek muscle, one part feminine curves. Her face is partially hidden by a
cowl, somewhat feline in design, though her sable hair tumbles out the
back in a mane to her shoulder blades. Large stylized eye holes frame her
r eal ones, a brilliant emerald shade up close. The cowl ends at her
cheekbones, leaving her perfect nose and chin visible. A complimentary
burgundy colors her full lips. Heel-less black leather boots rise to mid
thigh, protecting her legs, the end of a whi p protruding from the left
one. Black is also the color of her gloves, almost to her shoulders,
nearly form fitting. She radiates confidence even as she fades back in to
the darkness, a cat in the night. 

Tommy

Tommy's a friendly, if somewhat disreputable looking man of average height
and build. His face is regular, not handsome but without any real flaws.
His jaw is strong and square, his hair is very thick: curly and black,
cropped short on the sides but longe r on top. Tommy's eyes are concealed
by a pair of opaque black sunglasses. He wears them everywhere: outdoors,
indoors, day & night. Despite this, he seems a friendly sort.  Tommy's
wearing a black t-shirt tucked into a pair of faded blue jeans. His jeans
are bloused over a pair of scuffed black GPs. He's wearing a tatty green
trenchcoat over the top. 

Catwoman says "Well, someone needs to look after the kids. Keep the
scumbags from getting them. Means they also don't grow up looking to off
anyone they don't like, just for the hell of it. Self-interest, that." 

Ivor, a bald white dude, is one of those snivelling weaselly types who
always ends up at places like this. He'd be a rat if he knew anything, but
he doesn't. He just talks big and complains about how little unemployment
he gets. Tonight he slithers in more quietly than usual.

Catwoman sits at table six, the chiar under her turned backwards. She
talks with Tommy, unconcerned about the stares she gets, or the occasional
glance at the drunk bleeding some from the claw cuts on his arm. 

Tommy doesn't so much as glance at Ivor... the best scenery in the house
is seated across from him. "Bad for business, that." 

Catwoman nods.

Catwoman thinks . o O (No more kids like Holly or Arizona.)

Tommy says "There's too many hitmen in this town already."

Ivor has a little too much to drink, either that or he's -really- nervous,
his pale hands, losing their callouses slowly but surely, shaking a
little. He's also got a burn on his head, and it looks pretty bad. 
Eventually someone asks him how he got it. And he grins a little too wide
and says "Setting fires for the Joker." a little too loud, and people on
either side of him fall silent, a little pool of silence for those who
heard it. 

Catwoman straightens and slow turns, her eyes searching for the one who
mentioned the name. 

Tommy's gaze snaps over to Ivor. "Helloooooo." he says quietly.

Tommy glances at Catwoman and gestures at Ivor. "After you." he says,
grinning. 

Catwoman's lips part in a feral grin. "Looks like a rat has come to play.
Fun." 

Ivor cackles a little. "Yeah...yeah, screwy, ain't it...I mean he has this
-idea- about it...you heard on the radio about the kids, right...yeah! I
mean..." A police car prowls by outside and he freezes. Someone mutters
about the Cataglias and their theatres and the Batman, but nothing can be
made out. The silence spreads a little further. Someone smart puts a
quarter in a payphone. 

Catwoman stands, hand dropping idly to her whip. The drunk with the
slashed arm backs up quickly, other patrons giving some room to the
occupants of table six. "I think we should play." 

Tommy pushes his chair away from the table and rolls his shoulders as he
slides to his feet. 

Tommy leaves the table.

Ivor takes a big gulp of his beer and starts up again. "He came to me and
said 'you're the one I want to do this because I know you'll do it right
and you agree with me', so I said yeah! Showing smut to anyone who walks
in there, they deserved it..." He looks nervously around and tries to
look confident, "Hey, it's just business, right?"... 

Tommy flashes Skofey, the bartender, a "There's gonna be trouble."
glance... but the bartender is already cowering behind the bar. 

Tommy makes his way towards Ivor, keeping on Catwoman's right, giving her
enough room to bring the whip to bear if need be. He glances at her as he
nears Ivor, raising an eyebrow as if to say "After you?" 

Catwoman walks over, her steps as silent as her namesake. Two fingers drum
silently on the hilt of whip as she moves near Ivor. She gives a little
nod to Tommy. 

Ivor just grins nervously into his drink. "Gonna be Joker's right hand man
from now on." he says. "You guys better watch out." he crows. "My new boss
he's a crazy one, you never know what he'll do." 

Tommy shrugs his coat open and palms a 9mm pistol.

Catwoman says "But you do, little rat?"

Tommy raises his pistol slowly, pointing it at the back of Ivor's head.

Ivor laughs. "I'm no rat, I'm the new head guy in the..." He twists his
head around and looks down Tommy's gun. He spits out a curse, and freezes. 

Tommy grins. "Hiya." he says to Ivor.

Catwoman smiles ferally at Ivor. "Actually, you look like a mouse right
before the trap snaps. Maybe... we should talk." 

Ivor scowls malignantly. "He's gonna...you know what he's gonna do to
you..." He falters. Then he looks at Catwoman and wilts further. "Oh,
man." he says. 

Catwoman looks at Tommy. "Want to go first?"

Tommy gestures with his head. "Get up." he says. Without taking his eyes
off've Ivor he says "We'll take him in the backroom." 

Catwoman nods. "Sounds good, Shades."

Tommy grins, taking a step back and glancing at Catwoman. "Call me Tommy."
he says. 

Catwoman chuckles. "Sure thing."

Ivor stutters defiantly, "I ain't goin' nowhere, right? Yeah, right, guys?
Joker would be mad if...you know...yeah, I ain't going nowhere..." A
police car rushes past and Ivor starts suddenly. 

Tommy's grin fades. "Get UP." he says coldly, trigger finger tensing
visibly. 

Ivor shakes his head...then thinks better of it. He stands. Nobody is
laughing. Nobody wants to. 

Catwoman flexes one hand, claws snapping in to view. "You'll move, or I'll
start treating you like the rat you wish you were." 

Tommy says "Hands on your head."

Catwoman thinks . o O (People like this, they actually paid Stan to have
me treat them this way. They'd make me sick, if they weren't so useful.
Nah, they still make me sick.) 

Gordon moves inside, from the street.
Gordon has arrived.
Sarah moves inside, from the street.
Sarah has arrived.

Tommy flashes Catwoman a funny look, but it's mostly concealed by his
shades. He gestures at the back room door with his left hand. "That away." 

Ivor curses. "No way, uh-uh...I don't think so, you want to go in the back
room, that's fine, I guess you both are okay for that if I say so, eh?
Yeah." 

Tommy is standing near the middle of the room, on Catwoman's right, with a
gun pointed at Ivor. Ivor's standing up. 

Someone near the window says "Police." conversationally. The guy at the
pay phone just sits there. A few people shuffle for the back room and slip
out nonchalantly: the cops let them go. They aren't who they want. 

Catwoman mutters, "Damn."

Gordon moves inside, and takes a glance around "Ivor Jonston." He states
waiting. 

Tommy glances up at the door. "Aw, man." he says.

Catwoman looks towards the door, letting her claws snap back in.

Ivor edges towards the back room. "Get them, guys!" he whines...nobody
moves, they just look at him. As Tommy glances, Ivor breaks for the back
room, running as hard as his pudgy little legs will take him. 

Catwoman thinks . o O (He has the worst timing.)

Tommy keeps the gun levelled at Ivor's back. "Hey, Jim, how're you doin'?"
he asks conversationally. 

There is a flash of a badge, before Sarah arrives next to Gordon, her gaze
snapping around the room, looking for the one she wants. Mouth draws into
a fine line, expression blank of emotion. A small calibur gun, those used
by all officers, is held in her hand, a voice yells out. Cold, quiet, as
her gaze snaps to the running man, "Freeze!" 

Catwoman snaps the whip out, cracking it at Ivor's legs. "No, mice don't
get to run far." 

Ivor shouts something incoherent but clearly not cooperative, continuing
to run, before Catwoman's whip lashes around his legs and he goes
pinwheeling to the ground, struggling towards the door. 


Tommy glances back at Gordon and Sarah. "Dropped by for a drink, did ya?" 

Catwoman reels in Ivor, bracing one foot back.

Teeth grind down hard, jaw clenching as Sarah moves over towards Ivor, gun
aimed at his back, though she's still a few feet from him. "Stay down, and
don't move." Her voice rings out, ever the professional, she ignores
Catwoman, wanting to bring /her/ in as well, though for the moment, she's
more interested in the one on the floor. Gritting her teeth again, her
hair bounces around her shoulders, expression devoid of emotion save
disgust. 

Ivor mumbles something and tries to pull his legs free of the whip, but
doesn't have much luck. 

Gordon hrms at the company o( Catwoman AND Monaghan just what I need) Oo
He moves in quickly towards the man he wants "Just picking up the trash
Monaghan." 

Catwoman grins and snaps the whip free. "You can have him. He's not any
fun, anymore." 

Tommy relaxes, lowering the gun to his side and sauntering towards Ivor
and the gang. "What, there's not enough to be cleaned up back at the
office?" he asks, grinning. 

Ivor grins stupidly and starts to crawl for the back door, then he sees
Sarah and for the first time, he seems to get good and scared. 

A quiet throttled sound eminates from Sarah, as she aims the gun at Ivor
still. "Lie still, hands behind your back, legs spread apart.." To
emphasise the statement, she pauses and intones.. "*NOW*." A nearly deadly
tone comes from her voice. "I said don't move." Jaw clenching tightly.

Gordon's eyes narrow, if his mood wasn't bad before it's worse now. "I'm
sure this scum has told you enough, and you know why we're here." His cold
gaze moves towards Catwoman "And you're lucky I don't bring you in right
now as well." 

Tommy laughs.

Ivor lets out a wrenching little sob, "I didn't...I'm not with him...okay,
it wasn't me...I didn't do it. He made me do it, he threatened me..." He
lies down flat with a little encouragement from Sarah's gun. 

Catwoman curls her whip and slips it in to her boot. "Aw, and I thought
you didn't care, Gordon. You know, you're cute when you're official." 

Tommy says "Should stop round here more often, Jim. The Batman is almost a
regular... and we're a better class of scum'n those that hang around the
GCPD cafeteria."" 

Catwoman glances at Tommy. "Bats stops by? Well, maybe this isn't such a
bad place." 

For all intents and purposes, Sarah is ignoring both Catwoman and Tommy. 
Except for that last statement, which draws her gaze from Ivor for the
briefest of moments, once again her jaw clenching, and a rigid posture, as
she snarls over at Catwoman. The instant is but that, a few moments,
before her gaze snaps back to Ivor, reading him, the rights. "You have the
right to remain silent.." 

Tommy straightens his shades with his left hand, letting the gun dangle
loosely from his right. "Sure, Bats comes by." he looks at the door to the
back room. "It's cos of him we inally got the door fixed." 

Catwoman chuckles softly.

Catwoman thinks . o O (Damn, half the cops would have shot already at that
remark. She's a professional.) 

Gordon puts his sidearm away focused now on Catwoman and Tommy "You'll
pardon my inpoliteness if I don't take you up on that offer Monaghan. But
I've got a maniac on the loose... one that's not taken up to drinking." 

Ivor snivels into the tile floor, but doesn't resist any further. "I don't
want...don't let him get me...he said he would...didn't pay me
anything...never even saw him...on my own...child killers!" he suddenly
spits, his eyes lighting up. 

Catwoman goes rigid. "Child killers?"

Gordon's glance darts towards Ivor "And get that man out of here!" He
barks "I don't need him spouting things off in public." 

A pair of cuffs is hauled out of Sarah's belt, she hands them to Gordon,
gaze now fully on Ivor's back, gun kept in close range. "Cuff him and lets
get out of here." She states, her voice still carrying that cold, icy
tone. While her attention is on Ivor, she's far from focused completely on
him, the paripherial vision keeping a constant look out. 

Ivor rants, "Yes! That's what you all are...trying to stop us, but we are
many! This is a crusade now! A holy crusade! To protect the kids!..." He
runs out of breath and slumps down again. "You'll see! You'll see!" 

Tommy shakes his head, looking down at Ivor sadly. "What, you're holdin' a
crusade an' I wasn't invited? Good catholic boy like me?" 

Ivor sneers into the carpet. "I bet the Pope is in on it...yeah, in it
with the TV stations...but there aren't any of those anymore, are there?
Are there? Yeah!" 

Tommy shuts his eyes and his mouth, brow furrowing slightly.

Catwoman looks at Ivor, gaze freezing.

Waiting until the creep is properlly cuffed, Sarah keeps her gun on him,
making sure he doesn't move from his position. Her legs are spread apart,
a stance as both hands move around her gun, eyes snapping over Ivor,
listening to him rant and hoping like heck Jim finishes cuffing him soon. 

Tommy shakes his head and looks away, raising his left hand to his eyes as
if he has a headache. 

Gordon grrs slightly, he is at wits end and moves towards Ivor. He kneels
down and accidently introduces Ivor's face to the floor. An act of
violence that is rarely seen in the commissioner. He then grabs Ivor who
is already cuffed and hoists him up "Get him out of here now!" He pushes
Ivor towards the front door and then throws him out. The cops outside
blink a few times then grab Ivor and take the wounded man to a car.

Tommy murmurs "Later, Ivor." quietly.

Catwoman says "Bye-bye, mousey."  

Mouth dropping open for an instant, Sarah steps away from Jim, before
turning and heading out the door just as quietly. . o O(Oh great, thats
going to cost us this case.) She can't help but curl her lip up, before
storming out, without a backward glance. 

Ivor stares uncomprehendingly at the goings-on, his eyes blank. "Fire's
coming here, boys!" he crows on his way out. "Fire's coming here!" 

Sarah opens the door, and exits the bar. 
Sarah has left.  

Catwoman thinks . o O (He doesn't like it any better than the rest of us.
Good for him.) 

Gordon turns to glance at the rest of Noonan's current patrons, his voice
stern and ridged "Sorry for the disturbance.... let's hope we don't have
to return." He then moves to the door and exits. 

Tommy watches Gordon leave, smiling faintly. "Wouldn't bet on it, Jim-
buddy." he says. "Wouldn't be on it." 

Catwoman gives Gordon a little wave, perhaps a slight look of respect on
her face.