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Post by Deleted on Jul 7, 2020 1:28:25 GMT -7
The sarcasm in Isley's voice as she mentions that Dr. Woodrue might be able to help makes Montoya raise her eyebrow, as someone who is an expert in sarcasm -- she catches on right away. Either there's some disdain towards the man, or she truly doesn't believe that he can help, either way, this makes Renee curious about him. She takes her pen again, stroking it through the part of Woodrue's section which says 'worth questioning' - although she probably shouldn't take this woman's word at face value, part of her feels as though this is one time she can trust her intuition.
Renee realises that she finally has some kind of lead as she knows for a fact Harvey Dent had a sample of his blood taken, and Isley mentioning that identification can be possible brings some hope. "I think just identifying it would be a pretty big step in our progress, Dr. Isley. No antidote needed. I would appreciate your help a lot, ya know. Just lemme know what you need and I'll get you it, we need to get to the bottom of this mystery." Montoya may seem like she's being nice, but she's serious, she knows they have hardly anything to go on back at the GCPD - she wants to bring new findings, and this might be her chance.
Listening to the next response, Renee knows for a fact Isley doesn't buy a single word she had said before - she is making up most of this stuff, after all. The main reason she said it is so that she can test what kind of response it gets, to get a feeler for Pamela's mindset. It's an interesting response too, but it doesn't get her any new answers, the precinct are still trying to figure out who it was that got Harvey the antidote - they're not sure if it was Pamela herself, or if Batman really did have his own antidote. "Ha...right." Renee clenches her fist, gritting her teeth underneath her lips because she realises she slipped up by mentioning the antidote, Isley beat her there, she glances back to the mirror, curious about how whoever is behind the window feels about what just got said.
Now for the plot twist - Woodrue has been gone for 6 months and hasn't been seen since. Now, Renee, being a cop - especially of the homicide detective variety - her first thought is "he's dead", in fact, she adds 'probably dead' next to his name in her notebook. People don't just disappear with no trace, especially not these days where the entire world is basically under surveillance - this is an interesting case, she's going to need to look into that. "Disappeared without a trace, huh? That's crazy. I mean, successful professor that even you call the best in the world at what he does - why would someone like that disappear without a word? If that's the case, right now, ya must be considered the best then, right?" Renee takes a sip of her cup of water, swallowing before looking Isley directly in the eyes with an intense stare before speaking bluntly. "Do ya have any theories about his disappearance, Dr. Isley?"
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Post by Pamela Isley on Jul 7, 2020 14:51:43 GMT -7
"What I would need is access to my lab," Pamela said all-too-quickly, "Unfortunately, I'm here." Could she possibly narrow down the list of what she would reasonably need to just a few pieces of equipment that they could bring to the asylum for her to use? Probably. But she has little incentive to actually be helpful and it's too easy for her to claim that it's too complicated without her full lab, so that's an easy argument to make. "And that's assuming that my lab is still functional, and I don't even know that," she added sounding a bit bitter about the situation.
She gave a somewhat vague smile at the detective's reaction as she explained the logic holes in the little scenario that she'd been given. Clearly the other woman had never seriously considered the actual logistics of killing someone with poison from the criminal's perspective before. Which wasn't necessarily a surprise in a homicide detective, as most of her work was probably with victims who were shot or stabbed or something and that wouldn't necessarily factor into every case of intentional poisonings - even with those your typical suspect probably grabbed whatever household chemical they had on hand, not thinking very deeply about their options.
Pamela, on the other hand, had thought about such things a lot - but that didn't necessarily prove that she'd done anything. It was far too easy for her to point out that she was a toxicologist so, of course, her understanding of toxins and their possible uses was incredibly nuanced. Just because you know something that didn't mean that you did anything with that knowledge, after all.
The vague smile reappeared when she saw the other woman's reaction to her comment about the possibility of getting into contact with Dr. Woodrue, if only because that reaction was incredibly predictable. "Probably because he's the prime suspect for attempted murder," she commented about the reasons for his disappearance, "I wouldn't know, though - I was a bit busy being in a coma when he disappeared. I was the last person to see him, so that's special. But like I said, I'm not lucky enough for him to be dead. He certainly deserves it, though."
As she explained this her voice remained remarkably neutral and calm, though she suspected that the detective would read between the lines and figure out that it was she herself who had been the intended victim of that crime. After all, why else would the last person to see someone being sought for attempted murder have been in a coma when that person disappeared?
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Post by Deleted on Jul 7, 2020 15:22:42 GMT -7
Somehow, Renee isn't surprised at all by her response, she figures without the proper equipment, Isley can't be much help -- but she's planned ahead, and she knows what she's going to do. "Your lab, huh? So, you're saying if we had ya in your lab, and said lab ain't busted up, ya can help us identify the toxin in the blood sample?" Renee takes another sip of her water, setting it back down on the table as she pulls the chair closer to the table between them and rests her arms on the desk in front of her, her eyes darting back to the mirror again. "If ya can name...say...five things that will help ya identify what we're lookin' for - I'll see what I can do. Actually, don't name 'em...hold on..."
From what Captain Lincoln told her, from what she understands the lab did get some damage, along with the greenhouse - but she knows for a fact she can get Isley the equipment they need, she knows the right people to call in a few favors with to get it done. One of the people in the research department does have a thing for her, too -- nice looking girl by the name of Jenny. Renee isn't interested, but she knows a crush when she sees one, and she knows if she asks very nicely she can get some necessary equipment.
Renee turns to one of the blank pages of her notebook, using the tip of her index finger to apply pressure to the edge, she uses her other hand to tear at one of the pages, removing it from the book before she slides it over to Isley along with her pen. Renee has her taser attached to her waistband, she knows for a fact the pen can be used as a weapon - but she's giving this woman the benefit of the doubt. Besides, attacking a cop is not a good way to prove your innocence, so in a way it's a little bit of a challenge. "So, I'm gonna uncuff ya - try anything, you'll be on the ground in a second. Don't mess with me."
Montoya pulls out the keys she got earlier from the nervous guard, she looks at the keyhole on the cuffs and matches it up with what looks like the right sized key - she knows what handcuff keys tend to look like for obvious reasons, so she selects the right one, slipping it in and turning as the cuffs open with a click, freeing Isley from her restraints. "I want ya to write down everything ya think will be needed to identify the toxin...do that, I'll get ya what ya need. Work with me, Dr. Isley - I really want to catch the culprit, and I ain't gonna stop until I get a confession out of them, either." She glares directly into Isley's eyes with that last statement, a small smirk briefly curling on her lips as she sits back on the chair.
"So. Attempted murder, huh? Sounds heavy." Renee notes down 'attempted murderer - Isley saw him last', somehow it only takes writing this down in front of her before she realises what Isley says along with this. She leans back and crosses one leg over the other, grabbing her cup of water in one hand and taking a sip before nodding her head, listening to the redhead's words. "I'm not dense, Dr. Isley. Attempted murder, you're the last to see him, ya were in a coma, he disappeared, it doesn't take a genius to connect those dots. What reason did he have for tryin' to take ya out? Professors don't usually try to off their students without some kinda motive, ya know? Plus, doesn't sound like ya have a high opinion of him."
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Post by Pamela Isley on Jul 7, 2020 18:38:22 GMT -7
"Of course, darling. As I said, second-best in the world," Pamela said easily, though when the detective asked her to name five things she would need, she opened her mouth to object. Though she quickly closed it again when she was told to hold on, curious to see where the woman was going with this. She simply watched passively as the paper and pen were put in front of her.
While it wasn't impossible for her to write with her wrists cuffed to the table, it would be terribly awkward so she wasn't about to try. For the same reason, she hadn't touched the water that had been provided yet - she could try, but in their haste to bring in the water she'd not been given a straw, and without such an implement her attempt to drink would have certainly been undignified and might not have worked at all. And especially since she knew the detective had the key, she could wait. Though if it had been held over her head she would have simply waited longer - they'd take her back to her room eventually, and she could get as much water there as she wanted without having to play any mind games for it.
Though it seemed that she wouldn't be subjected to any of that. Instead, she was simply going to be left with no excuses not to write. She could handle that. She lifted the handcuffs to make freeing her wrists as easy as possible for the other woman. At the warning given, she simply stated, "I believe you." She actually had no good reason to try to do anything to the detective anyway. Yes, she found this interview to be annoying, but it was also entertaining. Besides, even if she managed to kill the other woman, it wasn't as if that wouldn't lead to even more and much more annoying interviews.
She didn't immediately respond when the other woman explained what she wanted and gave her that look. Her own expression in response was calm and neutral enough to be difficult to read, though there was a hint of skepticism or perhaps amusement there. She simply paused for a moment to rub some feeling back into her wrists before she reached for the pen - which also gave the detective plenty of time to return to her seat before she picked up the forbidden item, keeping it abundantly clear that she wasn't going to use the freedom she'd been granted to cause any harm. Or at least she wasn't going to right now - it wasn't impossible that she wouldn't change her mind.
Right now, though, she began to make a list, though it was far longer than five items. "Identifying a toxin is not an easy process. First, the cells in the sample need to be examined to see if they're damaged and if so the manner and cause of the damage needs to be determined to find the toxin. If they're undamaged then you're obviously dealing with something that doesn't harm every cell, so you're looking for a needle in a haystack - which is possible if you rule out all chemicals in the sample that are naturally found within the body, but that's a time-consuming process. Then when you've actually located the chemical you need to actually identify it - first determining if it's organic or inorganic. If you're lucky it's inorganic because then you simply need to do a bit of chemistry, and the list of what it could be becomes much shorter. If it's organic, then you need to do a full bioanalysis to determine which of the literally infinite chemical structures it could be. So, knowing nothing about this toxin, I really couldn't be certain which equipment I might need," she commented as she nevertheless started writing a list.
She wasn't saying that she couldn't make such a list, she was saying that she couldn't make one consisting of only five things - instead what she wrote, without having to pause to think about it, a list that amounted to a whole laboratory of equipment she 'might' need to do such an analysis. And the list wasn't fully a lie, either - she suspected that her claim that she needed all of it might be checked by another scientist, so she didn't put anything on it that she couldn't make a case that she might need it with one of her peers. What was actually untrue about it was that she could do far more than she was claiming with far less equipment because she actually was a genius in her field, but someone without her insights and skill might need all of it.
Though she did pad the list a bit by including all the little extras like which chemicals and slides and pipettes she might need - most of which would be assumed, but it did make the list look that much longer. It took both sides of the paper she was given, though it didn't take her that much actual time to write it out - she knew laboratory equipment like the back of her hand, after all. When she finished, she set down the pen on the piece of paper and slid it across the table to the detective. "Just because I'm good at it doesn't mean that it's easy," she remarked with a smile.
Having done that, she set about actually enjoying the fact that her wrists were free by sitting back in her chair and finally drinking some of the water she'd been given - both things she couldn't have done very easily before. She certainly didn't look like she was about to do anything else with her freedom. Though when the questions that the other woman asked cause a hint of anger to pass over her features, though there was only a hint of it in her voice when she replied. "Are you seriously blaming the victim? Professors don't usually try to off their students at all, and I certainly didn't give him a reason. I practically worshipped the ground that man walked upon and never did anything remotely upsetting to him. Ask anyone in my cohort - they'll tell you the same thing," she stated, then took another sip of water to calm even that hint of anger that had been showing. It was gone when she added, "If anything, he was jealous of me - worried that I would surpass him. But that's hardly my fault. And, of course, I have a low opinion of him now. Why would anyone have a favorable opinion of the man who used you for an experiment without your permission?"
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Post by James Gordon on Jul 15, 2020 1:22:04 GMT -7
Arkham Asylum, the place where people that were a few cards short of a full deck went to die. If you wound up here, then your life wasn't going too well. Some doctors decided you were a threat to yourself or others. This is the place where you sit in a circle, talk about your problems, and try to scrape and claw out of the hole you dug yourself in. That is if you're able to get better if you're able to be healed. There are some that will never be able to get out of that hole they dug from themselves, these individuals are dangerous to society. They belong here, in prison or anywhere else that isn't society. Those that have killed and claimed insanity were the really smart ones, they got to spend their days in a cushy full white hospital with three squares a day. Was it much different than ordinary prison? That was debatable, an argument that could be made that being among these doctors and medication was actually healing these people. Those previously mentioned individuals that decided it got them off to commit murder. They'd consider themselves normal most of the time until they were actually caught, then the whole narrative changed.
What about Pamela Isley? A talented scientist gets brought in one night battered to all hell. Officers said she was tied up with vines, and it was obvious to see she had injuries that could be tied to police brutality, or a different sort of accident. When she was brought in she was whacked out of her damned mind. To most, it seemed that Ms. Isley recovered, at least for the most part. She was in Arkham because she repeatedly labeled the two officers she picked up as murderers. She even managed to injure both of them, at least that is what the official report said. That's the official reason she's here but why is she really here? Harvey Dent, the district attorney of Gotham City was poisoned and barely survived the attempt on his life. This was big news, it attracted the attention of Mayor Hill and because it got the attention of Mayor Hill, it would also get the attention of the GCPD and their commissioner, Gillian B Loeb. This one incident had the attention of the entire city and the most important man in the Police Department.
Detective Renee Montoya didn't know the Commissioner would be present when she went into the room to speak to Isley, he arrived a full two minutes later when the interrogation was fully underway.
Commissioner Loeb entered the room, he was a tall stocky man who was a bit past his prime. He wore an ugly brown suit with an ugly yellow tie. He exuded authority, the men that noticed him enter the room knew that they had to watch themselves while they were in the presence of this man. He was followed by five members of his own personal entourage, a couple of him were in the room with him and the others were outside of the room where they were standing guard. The Interview was already being supervised by Lieutenant Hugh Hornigold from the Midtown Precinct's homicide division. As soon as the commissioner entered the room, Lieutenant Hornigold stared for a moment before blinking. He was in a state of disbelief, he didn't know the commissioner was going to be present.
"Staring doesn't suit ya, son." The Commissioner stated in a loud, firm voice. The next thing he did was offer a hand to the Lieutenant. "I know you weren't expectin' me son, but I couldn't help but watch this for myself." Lieutenant Hornigood was startled when Commissioner Loeb addressed him but shook his hand as firm as he could all the same. "Sorry sir, I didn't mean to stare... It's just... Yes, you're right, we weren't expecting you... But we're glad to have you with us." Commissioner Loeb stared at the man intensely, his eyes were like piercing daggers, his gaze was unforgiving and frightening for a man like Lieutenant Hornigold. "Ha! The hell you are! Glad to see me..." His mannerisms switched on the dot, he went from an intimidating boss to a jovial uncle at a family barbeque.
"It is nice to meet you, Commissioner, I'm Adam Turpin. Head of security here at the Asylum.
Loeb turned his attention from the Lieutenant to the man who just addressed him."Pleasure is all mine, son! Hey... Is it okay if I smoke in here? Commissioner Loeb asked, not waiting for an answer before he already pulled out a cigar, holding it out for one of the members of his entourage to light it for him. "Actually sir, this is a nonsmoking envirome-" The cigar was lit, Commissioner Loeb puffed on it for a few times before he approached Turpin. The commissioner was almost a foot taller than the man that said he was the head of security. "Is that so? Well, I won't tell you if you won't, Haha!" The commissioner would blow smoke in the man's face before approaching the window so he could see Pamela Isley and the Detective Interviewing her.
"So who do ya have on this... Uh..."
"I'm Lieutenant Hornigold, Sir. Midtown Precinct 12. That's Detective Montoya, apparently, Ms. Isley prefers women."
"Now that's a joke if I've ever heard one, you sure this Montoya can cut it?" Loeb started watching the interview, it seemed that Detective Montoya was at least a little competent since she was asking the correct questions.
"I assure you, sir, that Detective Montoya is one of our best."
Commissioner Loeb chewed on his cigar for a moment, with a look of disbelief on his face. "Forgive my reluctance to agree, Lieutenant. I suppose we'll see what Detective Montoya has, won't we?"
After that last comment, the room went silent as they watched the interview between Detective Montoya and Pamela Isley with their full attention. Commissioner Loeb smoked his cigar as Pamela Isley took his detective for a ride. She was stalling, she was appearing helpful but purposefully misleading Montoya. This was fine, usually, not even Commissioner Loeb ever expected someone to just flat out admit that they attempted murder on one of the cities most prominent citizens. This was different though because it was one of the cities most prominent citizens, Commissioner Loeb was under a little pressure. He didn't like Pamela Isley either, she was arrogant, thought everyone was beneath her. It was also clear that she had something to do with the disappearance of that little doctor friend of hers. The way she pretended to be humble about "The second best in the world". It was starting to get to the commissioner.
He started grinding his cigar a bit too much where it was almost falling apart in his mouth. After a certain point, the conversation wasn't even focused on Harvey anymore, the main reason this little interview was happening. Montoya was being misled, maybe it was time for a little pep talk. In an instant Commissioner, Loeb would snap his fingers, at that moment a member of his entourage brought up the little trash can that was in the room. Apparently the Commissioner grinding his cigars was a bit of a common occurrence. He'd spit out the cigar and clear his throat. "Lieutenant, pull your detective. I need to have a word with her."
Lieutenant Hornigold thought for a split second about protesting, but he knew that would be a futile attempt. Lieutenant Hornigold would pull out his phone and dial Montoya's number, he didn't want to give away who exactly was in the room since that could be possible leverage for someone like Isley. He waited for Montoya to pick up, tapping his foot as he grew more and more impatient. "Detective Montoya, you're needed in here. This isn't a request." He didn't wait for an answer, he just hung up his phone. He knew that Montoya would most likely protest if she knew the true reason she was bringing brought into the room.
Detective Montoya would eventually follow the order, entering the room. As soon as she entered Commissioner Loeb approached her and offered his hand. "Detective Montoya! I've heard many things, it is so nice to meet you. I'm Commissioner Loeb." He started to be friendly at first, expecting that she'd do what he wanted her to do for the simple fact that he was her boss, and being in the commissioner's good graces was a good way to earn promotions.
"You've been doing a fine job in there Detective, but I believe now is the time to stop dancing around. She was the one that poisoned Harvey, can't you tell? She's running circles around you and I know that isn't your fault because you're doing your best. You can't just outright accuse her of somethin' I get that... But the clock is tickin' here Detective." Commissioner Loeb could smile warmly when he wanted, it was all about putting on an act. An act that kept his officers in line, an act that opened many doors. "I need ya to go in there and show her whose boss. She thinks she has the edge, that she has you on the ropes. You need to show her different. Understand? Mayor Hill is breathing down my neck, so is the damned press." Commissioner Loeb took a deep breath and blinked a few times.
"You need to turn the screws a little, turn up the heat. Do you understand?" All the while he was maintaining a smile. He'd place his hand on her shoulder and winked at her. "You'll play ball, right? Then we can all go home and this little strumpet can rot in here for all we care, am I right? Does she think she can get away with poisoning the District Attorney? You show her just how wrong she is" His warm and welcoming smile turned into one that belonged to a rather sinister individual.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 15, 2020 13:51:55 GMT -7
The sound of the clock repeatedly ticking in the corner of the room is beginning to get to Montoya - she knows she's being played, but she wants to keep pushing to try to get something pinned on Isley - a confession is not going to happen, not at this rate. As Isley finishes the list, Montoya drags it over and gives it a once-over...she has no idea what any of it means, but she knows someone who might. Part of her feels like this is just more playing into the redheads hands, but regardless, she slips the list into her inner leather jacket pocket.
That's when the entire tone of the atmosphere changes - Isley takes things the wrong way, which in Montoya's case might be a good thing - she can tell she's angry, and the hint of disdain in her voice as she lashes out at Montoya with her initial "are you blaming the victim?" statement. Admittedly, Montoya can see how it can be interpreted in this way, instead of responding back - she listens intently. She takes a sip of her water as Isley fights her case regarding the Woodrue situation, Montoya chimes in when Isley pauses to take a drink of water. "I might just do that, Dr. Isley. Maybe ya didn't give him a reason, but what I'm sayin' is - he had to have a reason. People don't normally attempt to kill someone without a motive. That's all it is, whether or not that motive was caused by ya ain't my concern. It's a case worth lookin' into, either way."
Isley continues, with her theory that he may have been jealous of her and worried about being surpassed - this is actually a motive that may be plausible, but Montoya isn't making any judgements based on anything this woman says to her. "Used ya for an experiment...? Tell me about tha-" she doesn't get to finish that sentence before the sound of her phone ringing is heard, causing her to furrow her eyebrows in frustration. "Hold that thought." she hits the button to answer as she answers, "Montoya here. This isn't the time. What do ya need?" - her eyes widen as she comes to the realisation that it's her Lieutenant on the other end when he hears his voice. "Detective Montoya, you're needed in here. This isn't a request." She's taken back by that statement, "What do ya mea-" the sound of the call ending is heard, making her roll her eyes as she slides the phone back into her pocket. "I have to deal with this."
Montoya grabs the book from the table, slipping it into her jacket before she gets up from her chair and turns her back to Isley, heading to the door and opening it before leaving the interview room and shutting the door closed behind her. Making a turn, Montoya enters the viewing room and closes the door behind her - suddenly, she has a man practically towering over her with a hand extended. Loeb. She knows exactly who this man is of course, never personally meeting him - but he has enough pictures of him hanging around where she can't get his face out of her head, she reluctantly shakes his hand before releasing her grip and wiping the palm of her hand against her jeans with a hint of disgust on her face before she folds her arms across her chest, chin held high and eyes narrowed.
"I know who ya are, Commissioner. I'm sure you've heard all about me." Montoya says this bluntly as she knows for a fact he's probably heard about the many disciplinaries that have been filed about her, she looks at her Commissioner and Lieutenant, giving a shrug of her shoulders. "So, seems like the big boys are all here. Either of ya wanna tell me what the hell this is? I'm gettin' valuable information here, and the two of ya are makin' us lose time here." That's when he explains why she's been brought in here - he thinks she's wasting time. Great, now she's the one wasting time when he's the one dragging her in here? Montoya's jaw can be seen moving a little bit as she grinds her teeth against each other, but keeps her lips pursed tightly.
Montoya inhales a deep breath through her nostrils as he talks about the press and the mayor - always the press, always the mayor, can cops do their jobs in peace anymore? "I understand -- but I've got a very specific way of doing this. We ain't gettin' a confession out of her, so I'm workin' on getting something on her instead, seeing as right now we've got nothin' - and yeah, she's probably playin' me, but that'll backfire because I'm determined and I'll come back for questioning over...and over...and over again - until she cracks. Personally, Commissioner - I don't give a damn about the mayor or the press, I'm here to do my job - my way. That's why I was brought down here instead of investigating a murder, that's why I was chosen...so back off, and let me do things the way I see fit." She points towards the glass in the direction of the suspect as she speaks. "That little "strumpet" is tough to crack, if I go in there the way I know ya want me to, we're gettin' nothing on her and she'll be let free by the end of the day, then I'll probably have another disciplinary lined up - you've seen the way that woman is, so your idea is crap, with all due respect." Montoya said this with a hint of frustration in her voice, her eyes locked directly onto Loeb's as she stared with fire in her eyes.
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Post by Pamela Isley on Jul 16, 2020 2:27:24 GMT -7
This situation was simply all too easy for Pamela. She held all the cards here and she knew which she could safely play and which he had to keep tightly to her chest. At a certain level, she supposed that the police had to try, but she simply knew better than to give them what they needed. In fact, she suspected that if she played her cards right she might draw their obviously ample suspicion away from herself... Perhaps not, because she couldn't know what they would do, but there was no harm in trying.
Her lips pursed even before the detective finished her next question - it wasn't a subject that she liked to talk about even when doing so might be to her benefit. And yet the question was never finished because the other woman's phone rang. So her expression cleared as she waited in polite silence during the brief call. "By all means - I have all day," she said politely as the detective got up and left.
Though it did not escape her attention that she was quite suddenly both unshackled and unsupervised... Not that there was much that she could do with this 'opportunity' that wouldn't almost definitely lengthen her stay in the asylum - a fate she wished to avoid at all costs. Then again, mere moments later the sound of muffled voices started up again and gave her an idea of one completely innocuous thing that she could do...
Knowing perfectly well what a one-way mirror is, the sound of muffled voices that shface'd heard more than once while talking to the detective wasn't much of a mystery to her - she assumed that there was someone watching any time she was in one of these rooms, though in her few earlier visits the observer had been smart enough to keep quiet. It seemed that someone new was watching... Someone who thought he was a big shot, no doubt.
When that muffled voice was joined by another that had extremely recently become familiar, she couldn't resist the impulse... She quietly slipped out of her chair, 'wandered' over toward the 'mirror', rested her head against it, and oh so casually watched the door as if simply waiting for the other woman to return.
If the owners of the muffled voices were too busy with their conversation to notice the movement, they might not even realize what she was doing - eliminating the problem of not being able to hear. And if they were not, would she actually get into trouble for listening in on a conversation being loudly held in the next room? She doubted it.
Keeping up the façade of simply standing there to wait, she purposely kept her expression neutral as she listened. Not that it surprised her to hear a conversation about how they're in a hurry and she's wasting their time - that's exactly what her main goal was. She was a bit annoyed by the idea of the detective being unwilling to let it go, but she was confident in her ability to continue the game as long as the other woman wanted to play it.
Though the man sounded both unwilling to allow it and seemed to be in some position of authority - which was a positive, she supposed, not that she appreciated the brutish implications of what he proposed as an alternative. Nor the way he spoke about her, not that either surprised her coming from a man. It was halfway refreshing to hear one speak so openly the way they all thought. The detective was right, though - the very idea was terrible. She knew herself, what she could endure, and also that she absolutely could get away with poisoning the District Attorney. She had to - her babies were waiting for her at home.
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Post by James Gordon on Dec 2, 2020 13:43:48 GMT -7
Attitude, a certain fiery demeanor that Loeb has seen a few times before. That was fine, cops with that sort of attitude didn't last long. Commissioner Gillian B Loeb has existed in this business a long time, and any that questioned his authority would eventually be booted out on their ass. There was only one that has remained, even after all that Commissioner Loeb has done to try and get rid of him. Chief Gordon, James Gordon. Whenever Commissioner thought about that name he got angry, and Detective Montoya instantly made the commissioner think about him. Detective Montoya would submit though, Loeb didn't think she had the same sort of gumption of grit that Gordon had, or was he still around because of luck because he was considered a hero cop? Detective Montoya was seen as a problem most of the time, sure she was a good cop, got results but there were also a lot of complaints against her. Everyone loved James Gordon, but there was a lot left to be desired by those who had dealt with Detective Montoya. "Well! I may know a lot about you but if you knew anything about me you wouldn't have taken that tone with me."
The commissioner took a deep breath, blinked a few times before reaching into his suit jacket. He pulled out another cigar, he always kept a few spare on his person just in case he decided to get mad and grind them down. Next, he pulled out a cigar cutter and his lighter. He cut the tip of the cigar and flung it across the room, not caring about who would have to clean the room later on. He then placed the cigar in his mouth and tossed the lighter to Montoya. It was a zippo lighter from the '70s that Loeb had received during his army days. He leaned forward so that Montoya could light his cigar. "Give me a light, will ya?" She probably didn't want to, but she ultimately relented. Her reasons for doing so might never come to light, but Commissioner Loeb knew exactly what he was doing.
He puffed on the cigar a few times before blowing smoke into Detective Montoya's face. "Alright, here's what's going to happen Detective. You're going to go back in there and you're going to do what needs to be done. We're done playing games with this floozy. She has above average looks, so what? Pretty red hair... I hate red hair. I don't care how you feel about it. You work for me. If I determine that your performance is lack luster then at such time I will deem to enter the room and take over for you. I'm all about second chances Montoya. You need to show me you got guts, that you got gumption that you give a shit about your career. If I'm pleased, who knows maybe I see sergeant in your future." He switched his mannerisms up again, from slightly frightening to now a warm and caring authority figure that was prepared to promote those that played along.
He placed his large hand on her shoulder, he watched her squirm as he did so the first time. She played tough but this broad was easy to read. Right now it wasn't about breaking Pamela Isley it was about breaking Renne Montoya. The commissioner sought to have her on his team, the winning team. Chief Gordon might have a small following but Loeb had the WHOLE police department, the fact that Gordon thought he could possibly stand against him was laughable. He had the mayor on his side, even the governor of New Jersey. He'd reach in his jacket again to grab a handkerchief. He wiped the sweat off his brow, it was hot in this room, possibly because of all of the people. All of which were silently watching while the Commissioner told a lowly detective what was going to happen next. "That'll be all, Detective." He smiled again and gestured towards the door, waiting for Montoya to go back into the interview room and continue her little conversation with Pamela Isley.
"Remember. Don't disappoint me."
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Character Info
Player Info
Avalikia
85 Posts
Joined May 2020
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Post by Pamela Isley on Dec 3, 2020 1:20:27 GMT -7
The more Pamela heard from the man behind the glass, the more he irritated her. She didn't have the slightest idea of who he was, as she'd never cared to pay any attention to the police. That the man was in a position of authority over the detective who had been questioning her was clear, but that didn't tell her anything - she hadn't the slightest idea what the structure of authority was in the police department in the first place, and in the second she couldn't care less about which individuals where in it, even at the very top. Not only did she not recognize the voice, she wouldn't be able to recognize either the face or the name if she knew them.
But none of that really mattered to her. For all of his obvious bluster, he was as meaningless to Pamela as any other man. It was the very fact that he seemed to have some sort of an ego that rubbed her the wrong way - he didn't deserve to have one. That was something she could tell based on nothing but the grotesquely pretentious way that he talked. Here was a man who desperately needed to be knocked down more than a few pegs - it was disgusting!
On the other hand, though of course Pamela's first inclination when such a person came to her awareness was to do that deed herself, at the moment she was feeling rather disarmed. Not in the literal sense, though that was also the case, but her best weapons were social and unavailable to her as a patient of the asylum. Here she had little but her wits which, while substantial, placed her at a disadvantage in this setting. Yet she was also a woman who didn't always side with her logic instead of her emotions.
"So, you're hiding behind a woman and forcing her to do your dirty work for you? Or can you simply not resist having ringside seats to a catfight because that's how your get your rocks off?" she asked, speaking quite loudly to ensure that he'd hear her quite clearly on the other side of the mirror, "Why don't you come and face me yourself, you coward? Or are you going to pretend that you're above hitting a woman even though ordering someone else to do it isn't beneath you?" Her expression twisted into one of amusement as she spoke, turning her eyes as if to peer through the glass. Not that she could hear where his voice was coming from well enough to do the trick of looking right at him, but she was obviously abundantly aware of his presence.
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