Detective | ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴀᴛᴍᴀɴ

𝒕 𝒘 𝒆 𝒏 𝒕 𝒚

The Tower has never felt more wordless, in Jess's opinion. The blazing sirens of the firetrucks were the only sounds bouncing off the stone barriers of Wayne Tower. A look of frustration was locked onto Jess's ached features. The Riddler's wicked fingers began to curl around her throat the longer it took to solve the case. Soon, he'd have won the game and have her and Gotham's ruin as his prize.

Jess dug her hand into her jacket pocket in desperation for some relief and pulled out her crimpled Red Marlboro pack of cigarettes. She coughed a couple of times before sticking the last tobacco stick of her pack between her pouty lips. She lit her lighter and took a deep breath of the very dry, woody, and unsweetened chocolate that irritated the branches inside her lungs. It almost looked like she wasn't breathing it in at all. Before, she'd suck in their cheeks while the cigarette was in her mouth and then inhale abruptly, which caused an automatic coughing scene.

She sucks in the smoke slowly, holds it within her chest for a few seconds to feel the hazy cloud developing in her head, and blows it out, taking bits of her stress with it. A coughing fit didn't ensure until a voice startled her from behind her. "Yeah, that's a smart idea." Jess almost broke her back from how fast she twisted behind her. "Smoking a cigarette while you have smoke inhalation is probably the dumbest thing I've ever seen you do, and you've jumped off Veterans Cliff."

Jess jumped to her feet with her green eyes blown wide in surprise. "Kyle!" She gasped, dropping her cigarette behind her. She stubbed it out with the back of her heel. "What are you doing here?" She caught sight of his firefighter's uniform. "In Gotham?" Kyle pushed his shaggy chocolate hair away from his sweaty face. She forgot she had to crane her neck up to maintain eye contact with the 6-foot five walking beanstalk that brought Smallville's Basketball team to the playoffs every year.

"I was transferred to the 157 a little over three months ago." He raised a brow. "What are you doing here? This is an active crime scene, and last I remembered, you covered Homicide, not Arson."

Jess crossed her arms while looking up at the smoke still pouring out from the windows. "If Mr. Pennyworth dies, it'll be both." She looked back at Kyle's hazel eyes and his slightly crooked nose. "So, I'm here and, honestly...." She sat down on the stone step with a dramatic sigh. "On my last thread."

Kyle noticed the exhausted look in her eyes, recognizing it from when they were teenagers. She still held the key to his heart in more ways than one. He sat next to her with his helmet in his hands. It's ugly weathered yellow reflecting the siren's red and blue lights. "You know, at the firehouse...." He gave a smile that still managed to make her heart flutter. "You got quite the reputation at the firehouse, lightweight." An embarrassing blush spread across her face. Thankfully, the soot-covered it up; but she could never hide her emotions from Kyle. He saw through her just like Bruce did.

The annual Founders festival was where the humiliating nickname came into play. Before she was Jessica the hardass Kent, she was Jess the lightweight Kent. To explain the meaning behind the name, the festival happened the first three months after she got to Gotham. The city council throws a week-long celebration to commemorate Gotham's establishment each year. Paid for by secret donors, it's the only time of year Jess has seen Gotham soaked in positivity.