Play it again, Sam (FBI/Open)

[zinda]

It had been a fairly routine day, routine as far as going like she expected her first official day on her new assignment would go at any rate. Forced to watch idly by while Aerie One and Aerie Two were inspected and re-inspected, having to confirm that everything she put down on her report about her weapons and the like was truthful, not that she'd get away with it for long if it wasn't thanks to Force. Meeting her new partner, Agent Samuel Mackenzie, before the two went out on a routing patrol that consisted of nothing out of the ordinary save for arresting a couple of Mr Freeze's lackeys off the street then returning back to base and getting settled into her new quarters.

Looks of distrust were in the eyes of some agents while others flashed smiles and at least pretended to give her the benefit of the doubt. From there? Well It was Veterans Day so she had made it out to a bar once she was off duty, though whether an FBI agent is ever truly off duty is debatable, but her partner full well where she was when she hit a local bar for the evening just to celebrate in memory of old times and old comrades in arms before returning late that night. The lights were out in more ways than one after she flopped down face first on her bed with an aching head, managing to stay immobile until close to 10 A.M. the next morning

Her bloodshot eyes opened reluctantly as a low groan escaped Zinda's lips. Her baby blues were greeted with a pleasant surprise. Amid all the boxes of belongings she needed to be unpacked today after having been closely checked and rechecked by the security and such sat her newest hearts desire. An antique jukebox dating back to the early 50's. A rare prize indeed, one of the first of it's kind and it most definitely was not cheap. Thankfully however it made it past the security checkpoints and was allowed clearance. The highlight of this day would be filling it with some of the old records she managed to acquire at a pawn shop and getting this music machine humming...assuming her partner didn't come barging with more pressing business. Rounding out the decor of her quarters besides the juke, bed and a rocking chair that was obviously someone's idea of a joke, was a DVD player and a stack of movies, mostly old ones consisting of John Wayne flicks and Casablanca, her all time favorite movie.

Maybe just maybe some of the other FBI agents would even show up to say hello and pretend that they actually like her, not that she would lose sleep if they didn't but she could still hope as she hung a picture on the wall she managed to track down of the old Blackhawk Squadron.

[Deleted]

During the FBI agent’s move into her somewhat temporary living quarters within Gotham, it could’ve been overlooked that a large window was left open. Perhaps the unit’s window was left as wide open as it was to get fresh air into the room during the moving process. For whatever reason, and as sure as it was dark as night given the time, the large window was open and allowed for the cool night autumn breeze to flood through the homestead. As the FBI agent, Zinda Blake, moved about her unpacked items of this cherished possession or that needed commodity, the very distinct feeling of someone watching her was now more than present.

[glow=navy,2,300]“Agent Blake.”[/glow]

Came a deep, graveled voice from the darkness beside the window’s fluttering curtains. There was a spot by that opened window which seemed way too dark for the typical shadows in the quarters to cast—it was inky black—and if one peered incredibly close and stared for quite a while, the outline of a tall, toned, dark figure of a man would barely be able to be seen—one with twin razor points atop his head. The Batman.

[glow=navy,2,300]“I’ve come to talk—nothing more. Consider this a grey area, a momentary truce, in our force’s sides.” [/glow]

Still given his stance right beside the large and rather open window, he could be gone in the blink of an eye should the agent find his intrusive visit not exactly welcome. After all, he got into the federal agent’s lodging undetected, he could certainly leave just as traceless.

[zinda]

As far as Zinda Blake was concerned this dorm was not her temporary new living quarters, this was her new home from now until the day the FBI packed up and left Gotham and she went with them. In for a penny in for a pound, and whatever misgivings she may still have about how this scenario went down, the FBI's newest agent gave her word. It's something she has never in all her life taken lightly. Zinda Blake's word has always been her bond and to her it might as well have been written in blood.

Clad in a t-shirt and jeans her Blackhawk costume laying on a chair as a reminder she needed to get it cleaned asap, a sudden breeze blew in from behind her, and she forgot it was left open she'll never know but she spun on her heels as soon as her name was mentioned. She recognized the voice, instantly aware who it belonged to, it's owner someone she had met before before coming to her senses and signing up for another hitch with Uncle Sam.

Her pistols were at her hips, she was actually about to start cleaning them when heshowed up. Needless to say she wasn't a bit thrilled at his arrival. It was amazing, even stupifying that he managed to slip through unnoticed with all the security this place has.

"You have your nerve showing up here[." She grumbled, the frown on her face indicating she wasn't the least bit thrilled to see him. Not now. Especially knowing what it could mean if she were caught talking to him. If she chose she could have the draw on him before he disappeared. She knew his reputation and skill level full wall but her speed in drawing her guns could easily match his ability to vanish, she was sure of it. She considered herself as good at what she does as he does. She was a soldier after all, even if she might overate her own abilities.

"There is no gray area. Not anymore but I am listening. Please tell me you've got the common sense to give yourself up." She whispered quietly.

[Deleted]

Silence met the agent’s angst-filled response to his unexpected arrival within her place. Threats from anyone, regardless of their affiliation, bounced off him like bullets did Superman. Instead, his stony silence and dark demeanor were his go-to method in handling tense-yet-peaceful situation. Didn’t mean the tide wouldn’t change in the blink of an eye, however.

Agent Blake: "You have your nerve showing up here."

Finally, the grim voice of the Dark Knight spoke from his spot in the shadows beside the window.

[glow=navy,2,300]“Same could be said to you and the rest of the federal agents invading Gotham, Agent Blake. I’m here for answers. Why Gotham? Why stake an investigation in this city? I don’t quite swallow the rumor of your being here because of unidentified “masked vigilantes” running the law. Gotham City Police Department and judicial system still reigns supreme when the law is involved. Metropolis has Superman—an unidentified hero imposing justice on their streets. Why not target him and that city as well?”[/glow]

And before the agent could answer he then quickly added his last unpleasant fact.

[glow=navy,2,300]“From the reports I get in regards to your agents’ treatment of these “masks” and some of Gotham’s socialites, people like Vic Sage and Oswald Cobblepot, sounds like I’m not the only one in the vigilante business. Are you truly here to clean up the streets of Gotham or rough them up further through false claims of justice?”[/glow]

Still, no movement on his behalf was made—his darkened, hard to see form was just as still as a statue.

[zinda]

On the surface Zinda kept her frown on, her eyes narrowed while the costumed vigilante whose name was on the top of the FBI's most wanted list when it came to Gotham, dared to lecture her on the rights and wrongs of the governments activities. Inwardly she was counting to ten under her breath, trying to recollect herself and emotionally detach herself from what she had to do. It was her job and the hardest thing about it was to keep from letting her emotions drive her.

"Are you finished? If so, kindly cut the bullshit." Though she wasn't above using a few choice, colorful words to emphasize her point. Her tone was plan, dispassionate and void of emotion as she began to give her retort to his asinine comments.

"First off do not stand there and insult my intelligence by pretending you do not know who I am. You're Batman, there's nothing that escapes your attention in this city. It is after all yours. Or it was rather. The government, the FBI and all it's lawful authorities, including the police and a certain commissioner thereof that you have for years been strongarming to play ball with you are merely taking the city away from those that take the law into their own hands and bringing it back to where it belongs."

She slowly turned away and opened her closet door in a stride of only a few steps, grabbing the jacket with the symbol on it that means more to her than anything else on Earth, and the Cap, holding the cap in her left hand and the jacket up in her right hand. An outfit she donned for the first time several decades ago and will proudly keep wearing until someone puts her in the ground. The Blackhawk outfit, Batman would recognize it well when she returned to the window.

I am here because of you, Batman. I spent the last several months trying to help you and the other vigilantes of Gotham out. A big mistake, never again." She stated calmly. "Yet where did that mistake get me? Threatened with court martial and charges of treason because I wasn't doing my job. I am where I belong now and within time you and everyone littering the streets just like you will be where you belong. I am not at liberty to discuss FBI policy and regulations with you except to say that Superman will be made to fall in line with the laws of the land just as you will be. Noone is above the law. Not even you." She stated matter of factly once more, dropping the hat and jacket to reveal the badge and pistol she was using the clothing to hide until now.

"You're under arrest, Batman." She warned, climbing out the window with her pistol aimed, never diverting her eyes in the slightest while hoping that security cameras would pick him up and re-enforcements would come . Trying to take the Dark Knight into custody underhandedly would be next to impossible. "INTRUDERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR"

[Deleted]

The outcome hadn’t been unexpected from the agent—he was a wanted “mask” after all. Then again Batman’s motives were never as direct as they appeared. It wasn’t like he was coming there in hopes of making a new “B.F.F.” as the kids these days were saying; in fact, he was there to get precisely what he needed and when the young and obviously inexperienced federal agent flashed her badge with her insignia at him much like she was some villager thwarting off Dracula with the Holy Cross, his digital precision camera lens zoomed in and caught hold of the serial number, barcode, even the camouflaged and black light printing of serial numbers within her badge--all in a mere blink of an eye.

And as Agent Blake now made her way to the large open window to confront his inky black form she would see her set of curtains from the window frame, pinned snugly to the wall of her homestead’s room by a strategically placed razor sharp batarang complete with a mic and digital lens attached. A simple stack of moving boxes creating the illusion of his outlined form, the batarang acting as the twin points atop his head. A decoy. A proximity self-destruct time release explosive was set on the little bat shaped shuriken, and when she moved close to cry out intruder—it exploded into a tiny puff of smoke. The detonation, though possibly somewhat surprising, was harmless, concealed, and completely damaging of any possible evidence to be had of such a hot commodity to the Feds.

By the time the reality would sink into Agent Blake about the Bat having never actually BEEN inside her apartment, but merely using one of his many allusive tricks, he was now entering the badge information for personal records to use at his will—in a very hidden and secure location. He had gotten what he had come for and now was onto other matters as the night was still young. Unlike Agent Zinda Blake, he wasn’t someone who made ‘big mistakes’.

[zinda]

Whether Gotham's Dark Knight believed it or not, Zinda Blake was neither young nor inexperienced though to most people it would seem that way without digging beneath the surface. When she reached the window she had managed to get a good enough look at the batarang before it exploded into nothingness for a certain someone to get into her head and pick out the details when she thought about them. There would be nothing traceable most likely but the truth would be there at least so she wouldn't be accused of crying wolf when she yelled intruder.

The blond agent stood there staring for seconds that felt like an eternity at the boxes used to aid his little stunt. A decoy. A MOTHER ****ING decoy! She fumed under her breath, angrily kicking one of the boxes over before climbing back inside the window following a quick scan just to doublecheck for any sign or trace of the wanted vigilante whose name as of now was at the top of her most wanted to slap senseless list. Of course he wouldn't be there but she had to check anyway.

Slamming the window shut she grabbed a beer from her refrigerator and flopped down on the edge of her bed, waiting to see if one of the other agents would actually come in. It was 5 minutes into John Wayne's version of the Alamo, playing on her dvd player on flickering on her television before a smug smile stretched across her lips. He played her for a fool but two could play that game and Zinda Blake wasn't so bad at decoys herself.

Knowing that she was standing in the FBI's Gotham based HQ meant there was no real need to flash her badge at him. She knew enough about Batman through study and hearing word of mouth to know that he would inevitably come calling. Maybe it wouldn't have been tonight but it would have been sometime but that wasn't the reason for the decoy she pulled out of her hat. It all came down to the aforementioned fact: she was in the FBI HQ, there was no need to really flash her own badge to prove she was an agent. Good thing she didn't.

Peeling herself off her bed again, she knew that by now he would probably realize the badge he saw had no numbers, no barcode, no nothing on it except the word sheriff on it. Smirking a bit with her beer in her left hand she sat the toy badge she picked up dirt cheap at Wal-Mart back inside the closet near her official F.B.I. badge. Til the next time, bat-ass!