The Treadmill [Summer]

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Six o'clock in the morning, and Harvey Bullock found himself in unfamiliar territory.  The gym.  He'd greatly prefer to be getting his exercise in by jogging on the streets of Gotham, but not today... not on rainy, 38 degree December morning. "Colder than a witch's tit out there," he remarked immediately upon entering the gym. Finding no one he deemed worthy of hearing any of his other colorful descriptions of the weather, Bullock shed his coat and moved straight to the treadmill.  It was a fancy contraption that featured more gadgets than he possibly needed to run in place. 

The only bit of technology he really needed was his iPod.  He'd found it among a mass of other electronic devices that had been recovered from a pickpocket.  There wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that they'd ever find the actual owner.  And since it featured playlist was loaded with his favorite artists-- classic rockers like Tom Petty and Neil Young, legendary bands like Zeppelin and CCR-- he could find no legitimate reason not to take ownership of the tiny music player. 

As "Runnin' Down a Dream" began to play, Bullock thought about why he'd chosen to run on a treadmill at the ass-crack of dawn instead of grabbing another hour's worth of shuteye.  A glance down towards his flabby belly revealed that it had grown to be considerably larger than he'd like it to be.  Normally it wasn't a big deal.  He'd hide his growing girth beneath a dark leather jacket.  But that wouldn't work today. 

Today he was scheduled to meet with Summer Gleeson for a television interview.  He'd been tracked down by the popular news anchor for comment on his latest high-profile bust.  As he put it, "Some  whack-a-loon programmed a bunch of online video games to hypnotize teenage kids.  While under his spell, they'd beat the tar outta their folks, then drop off stacks of money and jewelry for the nutjob computer geek...  I followed one of the zombified teens until they dropped off their loot, then I stuck around until the bastard came to retrieve the shit."  (He knew he'd have to self-censor his language when it came time for the actual interview.)  "Detective Work 101." 

What began as a quick comment for a news blurb soon evolved into a cover story, with footage of Bullock's interview scheduled for the eleven o'clock news.  If that wasn't enough to rattle the crusty ol' cop's cage, it appeared that Summer Gleeson herself was going to be conducting the interview!  "Summer Gleeson?  Don't get me started on her," he said, offering unsolicited commentary to the woman running on an adjacent machine.  "Just about the only reason I ever bother to stay up to watch the news." 

...And one of the main reasons he was on a treadmill on this particular morning.  He couldn't burn off the last few months' worth of calories, but he could tone himself a little bit by skipping the morning's coffee and bear claws, replacing them with exercise and H20.            

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Forced to rise before the sun, the pretty redhead woke from her slumber at the sound of the alarm on the nightstand. After untangling herself from the tangle of sheets, she adjusted her eyes to the dark room and began to start her day. It had been a late night, but with modern make-up to cover up the dark circles under her eyes and soften her prominent cheekbones, her gaunt expression would quickly be returned to its typically, stunning self in a matter of minutes. She went through her normal routine, only pausing at times to compare the length in her same-colored pencil skirts before deciding on what she wanted to wear. Still in a bit of a daze, she arrived at her beloved studio with a smile, prepared to start her hectic and busy day.

Her producer approached her with a devilish grin. “You did it Gleeson!” He exclaimed, and Summer tried to meet his excitement. “Don’t I always?” She knew he was referring to the interview she had managed to arrange with one of the GCPD’s finest, Detective Harvey Bullock. Most of the officers would have denied Summer before she could bat one of her pretty eyelashes, though the man seemed to agree much to her surprise – to all of the studies surprise. “I figured I would head over to the PD on my lunch to start setting up for the interview. The place smells like those beef and cheese gift arrangements you get for Christmas and stale coffee, but the story is worth it. I promise if I find any pictures of us on the wall being used as a dartboard I will steal it.” She teased with a wink, but her producer was instantly confused. “No- what? Gleeson. He agreed to a live interview. Here. He’s coming here.” Her jaw dropped. “Seriously? He’s coming here?” Props to Harvey Bullock.

To say she was surprised was an understatement, but a devilish smirk quickly played on her red lips as reality set in. The police usually avoided any live interviews; in fact, they usually avoided any interviews at all. Of course Summer had a hidden agenda, but she wouldn’t reveal it until it was far too late to turn back. “Perfect.” She claimed almost sinisterly as she put her things away at her desk and started toward hair and make-up. Despite her near-flawless cascade of red curls and tasteful make-up she currently sported, Summer never missed on the opportunity to be pampered and annoy her co-host.

Her eyes continued to dark toward the double glass doors to her home in studio B on the second floor. The moment she laid eyes on the detective, she was going to insure that she was the first to greet him – impressions were everything. Not to mention, she only had so much time to win him over before the cameras started rolling. The moment her eyes fell on the detective, she displayed her most charming smile before sliding out of the director-styled chair she had perched herself in. Leaving the diva disposition behind her, she tried a different approach as she waved toward him, sending a look at several of the interns and personal assistances to inform them that she had this under control and they were not needed.

outfit: Summer is wearing this

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Once he arrived at the police station, Bullock endured a bit of razzing from his so-called buddies at the MCU.  If they had any clue that he held Summer Gleeson in such a high regard-- a level that most likely would have been considered a "crush" if Harvey was still in his teens-- they would have been merciless in their ridiculing.  Thankfully, however, he was able to spin his story to his fellow boys in blue like this: "My mouth was runnin' faster than my brain, that's for damn sure!  They asked me for an interview.  Me, bein' a dumbass and probably a little cocky after makin' a big bust, what do I say...?  Sure!  ...Open mouth, insert foot." 

Bullock was fairly proud of himself.  He'd successfully directed the jabs away from the topic of his unhealthy interest in the bubbly newscaster who was young enough to be his daughter.  If they wanted to ride him for speaking without thinking, so be it.  He could handle a morning of that.  And once they were done teasing him about his performance on camera-- that, he knew, was inevitable-- all would be forgotten.

"Hey, Bullock!  Make sure they film your good side... Oh wait, you don't have a good side!" 

A steady stream of that type of joke flowed throughout the morning.  His response was always a prominently displayed middle finger.  By ten o'clock, he'd stopped looking up.  He'd just let the bird fly and keep his nose buried in paperwork.

When the clock revealed it was 11:30, Bullock rose and headed for the door.  After dodging a few volleyed paperwads, he exited the GCPD and climbed into his Crown Victoria.  He could've walked to the television station, but opted to drive.  "Don't wanna get all sweaty for Miss Gleeson," he said to himself, feeling free to say her name aloud now that he was away from his colleagues. 

The drive took no time at all... especially since he turned on his police lights so he could speed through reds and yellows.  After parking illegally, he straightened his tie and exited the vehicle. 

Once inside, he was greeted by a receptionist.  "Yeah, I'm here for an interview with..."  He didn't finish his sentence, however.  His voice tapered off as he became mesmerized by the television personality.  There she was!  Across the room and heading his way! 

Summer Gleeson.  Beautiful red hair with a perfect portioning of curls.  Any more and she might look like a grown up version of Little Orphan Annie (only in need of a haircut).  Any less and her look might be too rigid and uninviting.  But this beauty was anything but uninviting!  Her frame was tiny, but featured a near perfect distribution of curves.  And style!  Bullock was guy who preferred brown, black or sometimes navy.  Not on Summer Gleeson, though!  That belt... sunburst yellow!!! It seemed to suck all of the light into the room towards it, causing the woman wearing it to glow brighter than anything else around her.

"...An interview with Summer Gleeson..." he finally managed to spit out.  Without hearing what he was told about where to wait, the smitten detective started drifting towards the sexy broadcaster.  "...Summer Gleeson..." he muttered once again.  (If the boys at the GCPD could see him now!)     

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Smiling ear to ear she extended her manicured hand to shake the detective’s hand. “Summer Gleeson. It’s great to officially meet you, Detective Bullock! Thank you so much for coming on my show. This will be fun!” Her tone was inviting and eager, willing to get the interview started though there was a few matters that needed to be addressed before they can begin. She looked him up and down. He seemed to clean up well – at least better than she had expected anyway.

Summer didn’t have the best reputation around his particular precinct. She would use her good looks and charms to get classified information out of the Gotham City Police Department. When it came to spreading the news – Summer was ruthless, but she could hide it very well if needed. There was always some underlying motive and this was no exception. Now that he had arrived willing to conduct an interview that was live on her show, other windows began to open for her.

“You look great, by the way.” She said with a flirty smile. “Follow me, I will show you to hair and makeup. It should only take a few moments and then we can begin.” She turned to lead the way to the hair and make-up department. Strutting through the studio, keeping a pace so that they would be walking side by side, she pointed out several different operations that were being prepared for their interview.

When they finally reached the room, she looked to the make-up artist who loathed the redheaded diva with a passion. “He will only need a base coat of foundation, that way the camera doesn’t make his face look shiny.” Summer instructed, as if the woman hadn’t been doing this for years. Still, the redhead exercised control in many of the operations going on at Gotham Live Studio’s: everything needed to be perfect. Turning back to her honored guest, she smiled once more. “Is there anything I could get you, detective? Water, coffee…?”


outfit: Summer is wearing this