WARNING: This story is rated R (just to be safe) for language, violence,
and mild sexual content.
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Batman, Nightwing (even though I'd like to) or any of the related characters. They are owned by WB, AOL Time Warner, and DC Comics. Created by Bob Kane, God rest his soul.
Agent Thomas, Carmella and Sammy, along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.
Timeline: Sometime after NML, but before the "Bruce Wayne Murder?" series.
This is one of the first chapters I wrote, it was part of the reason I wanted to write this story. I love writing for members of the GCPD. They kick my ass!!
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!
* * *
Tylenol, Advil, Aspirin, anything. That's all Detective Renee Montoya needed. That and a very large cup of coffee. She wished she could blame the blast for her headache and lack of sleep, but in truth it had nothing to do with it.
She had spent the previous night on the graveyard shift, midnight to dawn with her partner, Detective Harvey Bullock. Her headache hit just before three thirty in the middle of a shouting match between some drunk and Bullock. About five minutes in to it, she began pitying the drunk.
She finally got home a few minutes past five, and after a quick shower she was in bed. Unfortunately she had forgotten to change her alarm and it went off a quarter after six. After that she couldn't get back to sleep. At a half past seven, when the explosion went off downtown, she knew her chances for sleep were shot.
Now she was rummaging around in a squad car's glove box hoping to find something to relieve her headache.
"Detective Montoya?"
She cringed hearing her name. "What?" she snapped at the rookie cop.
A little more cautiously he continued. "The Commissioner's looking for you."
She climbed out of the car muttering in Spanish under her breath. "Do you have any Aspirin?"
"No m'am."
"Can you find me some?" she said more as a demand than a request. "And get me some coffee," she added.
"Right away."
Montoya found the Commissioner sitting on the back of an ambulance. His shirt was open and a medic was having great difficulty tending to his wounds. His arms were flailing in emphasis, pointing to different areas and people as he spoke, or rather yelled orders to an officer.
"And where the hell are Montoya and Bullock?!"
"Right here," Montoya said making her way over to the ambulance. The Commissioner stood when he saw her, and the medic raised his arms in defeat giving up on him.
"The National Guard has been contacted, but four other bombs went off this morning, all in more populated areas than here, so we're on our own for the time being. I want you and Bullock-" He stopped and looked around. "Where's Bullock?"
"He's on his way."
Gordon sighed. "When he gets here, tell him that you two will be heading up the search and rescue team. They're getting a tent up on the corner of Church and 5th and pulling any doctors we can get our hands on. Send any survivors there."
"Alright."
When she didn't move right away, the Commissioner lost his patients.
"Today Detective!"
"Yes sir," She smiled for the first time that morning as she turned her back on Gordon. She nodded and headed off toward the group of officers gathering around a squad car. One of the officers was holding a megaphone out for her as she approached. "Thanks," she said to the officer. She grabbed the megaphone and jumped up on the hood of one of the unmanned police cars. "Listen up!" Her voice carried down the streets and everyone fell silent. "I want four groups! Two groups start on the east end of the road on either side, and the other two groups do the same on the west end! I want ever building searched. There is to be no door unopened, no room unchecked. I want ever brick on this street turned over! Am I understood?"
There was a rumble of yes sirs.
"Move out!"
Once everyone started moving Montoya jumped off the car, almost falling into Bullock.
"Nice speech."
"Harvey, you look like hell." And he really did. His eyes were red and puffy. The stubble on his face was beginning to take over into a beard. And even the toothpick he was always gnawing on looked like it had seen better days.
He looked up at her from underneath his eyebrows. "So do you." He looked around him then shouted. "Can we get some damn coffee over here?!"
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Batman, Nightwing (even though I'd like to) or any of the related characters. They are owned by WB, AOL Time Warner, and DC Comics. Created by Bob Kane, God rest his soul.
Agent Thomas, Carmella and Sammy, along with the story, though, are mine. Read but do not hurt.
Timeline: Sometime after NML, but before the "Bruce Wayne Murder?" series.
This is one of the first chapters I wrote, it was part of the reason I wanted to write this story. I love writing for members of the GCPD. They kick my ass!!
Anyway, enough of that mumbo jumbo crap, I hope you like! And please review!!!
* * *
Tylenol, Advil, Aspirin, anything. That's all Detective Renee Montoya needed. That and a very large cup of coffee. She wished she could blame the blast for her headache and lack of sleep, but in truth it had nothing to do with it.
She had spent the previous night on the graveyard shift, midnight to dawn with her partner, Detective Harvey Bullock. Her headache hit just before three thirty in the middle of a shouting match between some drunk and Bullock. About five minutes in to it, she began pitying the drunk.
She finally got home a few minutes past five, and after a quick shower she was in bed. Unfortunately she had forgotten to change her alarm and it went off a quarter after six. After that she couldn't get back to sleep. At a half past seven, when the explosion went off downtown, she knew her chances for sleep were shot.
Now she was rummaging around in a squad car's glove box hoping to find something to relieve her headache.
"Detective Montoya?"
She cringed hearing her name. "What?" she snapped at the rookie cop.
A little more cautiously he continued. "The Commissioner's looking for you."
She climbed out of the car muttering in Spanish under her breath. "Do you have any Aspirin?"
"No m'am."
"Can you find me some?" she said more as a demand than a request. "And get me some coffee," she added.
"Right away."
Montoya found the Commissioner sitting on the back of an ambulance. His shirt was open and a medic was having great difficulty tending to his wounds. His arms were flailing in emphasis, pointing to different areas and people as he spoke, or rather yelled orders to an officer.
"And where the hell are Montoya and Bullock?!"
"Right here," Montoya said making her way over to the ambulance. The Commissioner stood when he saw her, and the medic raised his arms in defeat giving up on him.
"The National Guard has been contacted, but four other bombs went off this morning, all in more populated areas than here, so we're on our own for the time being. I want you and Bullock-" He stopped and looked around. "Where's Bullock?"
"He's on his way."
Gordon sighed. "When he gets here, tell him that you two will be heading up the search and rescue team. They're getting a tent up on the corner of Church and 5th and pulling any doctors we can get our hands on. Send any survivors there."
"Alright."
When she didn't move right away, the Commissioner lost his patients.
"Today Detective!"
"Yes sir," She smiled for the first time that morning as she turned her back on Gordon. She nodded and headed off toward the group of officers gathering around a squad car. One of the officers was holding a megaphone out for her as she approached. "Thanks," she said to the officer. She grabbed the megaphone and jumped up on the hood of one of the unmanned police cars. "Listen up!" Her voice carried down the streets and everyone fell silent. "I want four groups! Two groups start on the east end of the road on either side, and the other two groups do the same on the west end! I want ever building searched. There is to be no door unopened, no room unchecked. I want ever brick on this street turned over! Am I understood?"
There was a rumble of yes sirs.
"Move out!"
Once everyone started moving Montoya jumped off the car, almost falling into Bullock.
"Nice speech."
"Harvey, you look like hell." And he really did. His eyes were red and puffy. The stubble on his face was beginning to take over into a beard. And even the toothpick he was always gnawing on looked like it had seen better days.
He looked up at her from underneath his eyebrows. "So do you." He looked around him then shouted. "Can we get some damn coffee over here?!"