[RL, Eddie & Renee] Christ Climbed Down
Gotham was heading for hell in a hand basket. Big damn hand basket. Her head was pounding, and for good reason. She'd spent most of last night - most of yesterday - tracking a Batman that thought killing was an acceptable solution to the city's problems. Renee used guns, yeah, and sometimes she killed - but she'd been a cop for years, and knew how to avoid it where possible.
She'd been a cop. Batman was outside that law, and as such, he couldn't kill. It was actually sort of...sickening, to think that someone would do this.
Someone good, too, because the trail kept going cold. It was pure chance that she'd run into the Riddler, tracking the same impostor. That had been a lot of fun. Really, nothing like arguing over who borrowed and twisted whose gimmick.
The city was in bad shape, and though there were more heroes than usual working to correct it, certain things couldn't be helped. It felt like No Man's Land, and Renee had more bad memories from NML than she'd care to admit. The food shortages, the power outages - regular life was fast becoming impossible to lead. Luckily (more or less), Renee's life hadn't been regular in more than a year. Maybe even longer than that, if you really wanted to dissect it. She didn't.
When the trail had gone cold, and the bickering over where to look next got tiresome, Renee opted to head back to the relative safety of her apartment. (She was certain she'd be moving in the month, now that both Dent and Nygma have visited.) Her bad luck held, and not ten minutes after getting inside, mask off, she heard the muted rumbled of electronics dying as the power went. Fucking black outs. A glance out the window told them it stretched for blocks.
More hospitable than she'd have been inclined to be in a Gotham that wasn't in danger of collapsing, she'd put Eddie up on the couch. The couch was in the living room, several rooms away from her bedroom.
As the light filtered in through her blinds, Renee shifted in bed, pressing her face into her pillow. Why hadn't she drawn the drapes? She needed black out drapes. The sun came in too easily. Shifting backward, Renee pressed against her body pillow, letting out a breath. She'd have to get up soon, see where the NEtwork was and what she could do for them, but right now, she just wanted to allow herself to cuddle with her body pillow.
...
She doesn't have a body pillow.
Jerking up, fully awake, Renee moved to the other side of the mattress, reaching for the gun holster that hung at the bed's side. Why. Why was Nygma here, in her bed? "The FUCK do you think you're doing?" She grabbed a handful of blanket and yanked it up over her chest, trying to hide her habit of sleeping in just a bra and panties. God damn it.
She'd been a cop. Batman was outside that law, and as such, he couldn't kill. It was actually sort of...sickening, to think that someone would do this.
Someone good, too, because the trail kept going cold. It was pure chance that she'd run into the Riddler, tracking the same impostor. That had been a lot of fun. Really, nothing like arguing over who borrowed and twisted whose gimmick.
The city was in bad shape, and though there were more heroes than usual working to correct it, certain things couldn't be helped. It felt like No Man's Land, and Renee had more bad memories from NML than she'd care to admit. The food shortages, the power outages - regular life was fast becoming impossible to lead. Luckily (more or less), Renee's life hadn't been regular in more than a year. Maybe even longer than that, if you really wanted to dissect it. She didn't.
When the trail had gone cold, and the bickering over where to look next got tiresome, Renee opted to head back to the relative safety of her apartment. (She was certain she'd be moving in the month, now that both Dent and Nygma have visited.) Her bad luck held, and not ten minutes after getting inside, mask off, she heard the muted rumbled of electronics dying as the power went. Fucking black outs. A glance out the window told them it stretched for blocks.
More hospitable than she'd have been inclined to be in a Gotham that wasn't in danger of collapsing, she'd put Eddie up on the couch. The couch was in the living room, several rooms away from her bedroom.
As the light filtered in through her blinds, Renee shifted in bed, pressing her face into her pillow. Why hadn't she drawn the drapes? She needed black out drapes. The sun came in too easily. Shifting backward, Renee pressed against her body pillow, letting out a breath. She'd have to get up soon, see where the NEtwork was and what she could do for them, but right now, she just wanted to allow herself to cuddle with her body pillow.
...
She doesn't have a body pillow.
Jerking up, fully awake, Renee moved to the other side of the mattress, reaching for the gun holster that hung at the bed's side. Why. Why was Nygma here, in her bed? "The FUCK do you think you're doing?" She grabbed a handful of blanket and yanked it up over her chest, trying to hide her habit of sleeping in just a bra and panties. God damn it.