One Winter Knight | Arkhamverse

Chapter 8: Fallen From Grace

"Sometimes it's the people no one imagines anything of, who do the things that no one can imagine." – Alan Turing

Evangeline Winter, in the eyes of Jim Gordon, falls just short of being a guardian angel. The only attributes she is seems to be lacking are the feathered wings, glowing halo and celestial abilities.

It's impossible. Her vision, her plan. No one in this history of Gotham City has ever completed such a feat, not even the Bat. Yet, whether he deems it surmountable or not, and whether he approves of it or not – which he does, but that is beside the point at the current time – it has already begun. Her movement, this... revolution of hers where a single civilian such as herself has been able to rise and organise such an endeavour, will throw Gotham into an awestruck turmoil, rupturing the criminal order strategically systematized by the biggest criminals of the city. It's not purely limited to the criminal underworld however; every class from the high society to the street rats will feel the tremors of her waking earthquake.

The Dark Knight was right. She's not special, but she's dangerous.

A weary hand sneaks under the Commissioner's glasses to rub at his haggard, tired eyes, his spine slouching into his worn office chair like he's trying to sink into it. "You know this is suicide, right?"

Eve's face is brimming with a beaming smile, Jim's lack of faith failing to dampen her spirits. "You trusted me with this case Jim. I know you asked for me not to act on it, but you and I are both aware of how many officers in your precinct are bought out by the crime families and the Riddler. It's about time we brought in the cavalry."

The wise, ageing eyes of Jim Gordon pay the blonde woman and FBI agent on either side of the private investigator a fleeting recognition. Usually, the FBI tends to make it their goal to be as detached from Gotham City as humanely possible. How Eve managed to be granted legal jurisdiction for her scheme and acquire such a formidable force of government confederates – not to mention the SWAT squad – is beyond the imagination of the experienced Commissioner, but with such an influence in the legal system firmly tucked under her belt, she's now capable of ordering around the whole precinct – him included – for the entirety of today. The 22nd day since the shooting. Monday, the 1st day of February, twenty sixteen.

He sighs exhaustedly, sounding a thousand times older than what he actually is. Finding the hazel gaze of the North Carolinian, Gordon comments with a tongue of dry humour "If by some miracle's work you manage to pull this off, I'll be the first to buy you a drink when it's over."

"Better get some cash out of the ATM then," Eve playfully warns, swiftly retrieving her white, mid-thigh length coat from where is rested upon the rack. "Because we head out in thirty."

***

She knew, even with the aid of Brandon Daniels' entourage of agents, that this was going to be no small feat.

With the front door swiftly swinging shut behind her, the private investigator carelessly tosses her coat over the disturbed sofa bed, knowing she'll need it later. Her long legs eat up the timber floorboards as she makes her way into the office, throwing the door open and striding over to Bec who is sat before the set up.

Her friend throws Eve a speculative look over her shoulder, perfectly shaped eyebrow arching. "Where did you run off to?"

"Had to take care of something first. It'll come in handy later," the raven haired woman dismisses, eyeing the screens of each computer intensely.

She stands rigidly stands before her line up of monitors within the security of her office, each screen displaying a different location from the perspective of a GoPro steadfastly attached to the police officer, SWAT member or FBI agent's headgear. Not many officers were let in on the plan, but from the select few that were, they took their orders without so much as a groan of complaint, in spite of many scoffing snidely at the futility of it.