Paris, France at Christmas. The boutiques and bistros thronged with loved up, gay couples. She - usually in the couture of the season. He - In three day stubble and a Santa hat. That scene was replayed a thousand times across the capital. Cookie-cutter background characters. Jolly laughter, the ring of bells as Santas on every street corner asked for shoppers to think of the poor this season.

Grace Winters - African-American, the daughter of the prestigious Arnold Winters and socialite Gemma Johnson was on holiday in another country. Of course it had to be the city of romance, despite the fact this was anything but a romantic getaway with a beau. In reality she was hiding from her parents.

Contrary to popular belief, you could not see the Eiffel Tower from any point in Paris, though she'd already been there to take the obligatory photograph. It had projectors shining onto it, highlighting everything in green and little spotlights along the framework acted like fairy lights. Large prop baubles hung with snow as she took the shot. It was sent seconds later to two different mobile devices with appropriate salutations for the holidays along with an apology that she wouldn't be attending either of the events she'd been sent invitations to.

Her parents always liked to outdo each other after the divorce and viewed Grace as the scorecard for their petty yuletide wars. Dad held Christmas in Lapland. Mother spent it in Jerusalem. Father bought her a new car, mom bought her a yacht. It had been this way for years and Grace had learned an adequate coping method. She sent a picture and an apology as a way of maintaining neutrality and shut down her mobile thereafter to prevent recriminations and counterarguments to her plans.

She sat in the little family owned coffee-shop she'd found on her first day. It was intimate and calm, not at all like the many Starbucks that thronged the center of the city, and their coffee was decent.

She'd chosen to sit just outside the cafe with her steaming cup. Even in the dead of winter, this cafe had outdoor tables and an awning that sheltered their customers from the snow. Large halogen heating lamps sweated her coat and back as the frost nipped at her fingers. She was loathe to put her gloves back on however. She was halfway through a Kathy Reichs novel and she liked the feel of the pages, the smell of a newly printed book.

'Doctor Winters?'

She blinked out of the world of Temperance Brennan and back into her own. A heavily muffled man had approached and laid a bare hand on the seat opposite her. 'You're a hard one to track. Do you always turn off and remove your phone's battery?'

'My parents do not deal well with polite refusal.' She replied with a small humorous grimace.

'Mind if I sit down?' He queried.

The book went into her bag as her full attention turned to the man who professed to track her. 'By all means. And you are?'

'Agent McMahon, ma'am.' He replied and pulled his scarf and hat from his head. 'We're in the same department.'

She was surprised. He obviously wasn't what she had expected when she heard she had been traced. 'I would like to see some I.D?'

Politely and slowly, he took the small leather wallet from his pocket and put it down on the table. She didn't hurry to pick it up but she did scrutinize every inch.

She ignored the shield, that wasn't important. The information on the plastic card next to it, however, was. Once she'd ascertained that he was who he said he was, she handed the wallet back to him. 'I'm sorry, you can't be too careful.'

'No, I understand.' He replied. 'After what you've been through...' A hand waggled around the left of his face and he grimaced. Grace'd been trying to ignore her reflection in the bistro window for some time now. The right side of her face was a smooth chestnut, the left was a mottle of pink and beige burns. A reminder of the ways things can go wrong. The wound was still raw and occasionally weeped as the underlying tissue succumbed and rallied against infection. 'May I ask how your recovery is coming, Ma'am?'

'As well as expected.' Grace replied and picked up her cup. Her hands were so cold that the sudden warmth from the coffee sent uncomfortable prickles through her fingers. 'I will be available for duty in two month, though-'

'You have the right to return earlier, injury and doctors permitting.' McMahon gave an industrious smile. 'I know the handbook as well as you, Doctor Winters. I have a job proposal.'

'Oh?' She replied noncommittally as she took a sip.

A file slid across the freezing metal table and rested at her elbows. With a suffering sigh, she laid aside her beverage and picked up the wad of paper. Her eyes drifted across the pages as she skimmed for relevant articles. 'Arkham City hmm? Why does this concern the FBI? Why does this concern me?'

'We believe that there is something not right with Gotham, ma'am. Officially of course, any investigation into Gotham would be a flagrant overstep by the Federal Agency, but an evaluation of Arkham City would be more pliable. Terrorists, gangs and rogues. Arkham City could be a rallying point for trouble and the FBI keeps a close eye on troublemakers.'

'Are they your real target, Agent?' Grace wondered as she skimmed the file. 'There seems to be an awful lot on those who are running it. Sharp and-' She paused. 'Hugo Strange?'

'Sharp interests us, but we think the real man pulling strings is Strange. We need a team on the inside - The GCPD are willing to offer some officers. Will you-'

'No.'

'No?' The file slid back across the table. McMahon sighed. 'Doctor Winters, it is our understanding that you are...Acquainted? With one of the individuals incarcerated?'

'Acquainted?' Grace let a disbelieving chuckle. 'That could be said.'

'You met during the Enigma case, correct? Edward Nashton?' The polite, but amused tone never changed. Grace frowned.

'You are aware that was over ten years ago and Edward Nashton was-'

'Was Enigma. The department is aware. It was a daring little operation he put together. He even boasted to having a backdoor entrance into our own servers. Can you not use him?'

'He goes by Nigma now, I believe. No, I can't. He isn't the problem.' Grace picked up her cup and blew the steam as her warm brown eyes searched McMahon's face. 'You don't need me, detective, to tell you that your real threat is Hugo Strange.'

'No. I don't. He was one of your teachers in the FBI wasn't he? What did you think of him at that time?'

'Again, that was over ten years ago. I found him cold, aloof and of course, a brilliant psychologist and profiler. It could be said that there were none finer.' She took a hearty sip of the warm coffee. 'What is it that the FBI suspects of Doctor Strange?' She wondered idly. 'Something quite big to attempt to drag a sick woman into a hellhole.'

McMahon stiffened slightly but then relaxed. 'I see that we will not reach an agreement. I'm sorry to have wasted your time, Doctor Winters,' He scooped up the damp file.

'Indulge me, agent McMahon. What does the FBI suspect of Doctor Strange? You've told quite a few lies to me.' Grace tapped her cup in idle thought.

'Lies? I assure you ma'am-'

'Whatever your intent, agent, i'll give you a word of advice.' She looked up at him. 'It isn't terrorism that Hugo Strange is involved in. It's something more dangerous by far,'

McMahon nodded. This obviously wasn't news to him.

'This has to do with Batman. Everything, do you understand? And this isn't a test. Strange isn't testing him. This is a showdown and i'm entirely convinced that his plan is for only one of them to walk away. Whatever's happening in that super-prison is something on a whole other level. If your superiors are smart, they'll do something while something can be done.'

'And what would you suggest, ma'am?'

Her smile was deprecating. 'That is not in my job description.'

He left her to her coffee, her book and the snow.

A/N: Welcome to another experiment in branching out. I'd like you all to meet Doctor Grace Winters. FBI Profiler. She is a character I hope to play with for Arkham Knight although I have extended her story to include Origins.

Grace first meets Edward Nashton when the FBI graciously loan Gotham Police Department a profiler to help them catch Black mask and The Batman but she's soon dragged into another case entirely. That of Enigma.

This little Excerpt is smack bang in the middle of the game series, during Arkham City. Grace is approached by the FBI, concerned about the potential problems in Gotham but is forced to decline due to injury.

Grace Winters is dark skinned, black hair, brown eyes. She's five foot nine inches, average weight, and has an IQ of 160. She joined MENSA at age 16. At this point, the left side of her face will be heavily scarred after an incident in Nigeria where she was held hostage and injured in the rescue bid though that has not impacted her work in the least. While her condition is shocking at first, she is still a brilliant and rational analyst and more than a match for a number of criminals.

She has a near-obsession with Edward Nigma as he is one of the few persons whose motives and moves she cannot easily discern. He himself feels she is one of his few worthy civilian adversaries and enjoys showing off to her. It may or may not be a flirtationship.