Sending a Message (Invite)

Butcher had been arrested at the Tower, not that she hadn't been prepared for it. No, this city was rotten all the way to it's very core. It didn't take a lot of investigation to see how reckless the Titans had been in stopping the robbery. Raven ordered guards to open fire on a suspect that had stolen nothing. Robin carried weapons way beyond the scope of anything that was legal to buy or carry. The Titans had appointed themselves judge, jury, and executioner for criminals of Jump.

That was a policy that Butcher would never stand for. The supers couldn't be trusted. Give an inch, they take a mile.

In the van, she was sat with two officers who had their guns drawn and watched her. How'd that cop know her name, anyway? The only thought she had would be through the military. Did their detectives really bend as far as calling in military favors for the Titans? They don't care about the crimes the heroes commit, but anyone that threatens them is priority number one?

"You tried to kill a hero, you know?"

Butcher looked up at one of the officers who spoke, her eyebrow raised. She laughed a bit at the comment.

"Allegedly, aye. Wild thing bout it is... did yah know that Raven lass... she's a demon. From Hell. Y'know that? Her Daddy wants to kill all the lot of yah, and me too."

She smirked at the look on their faces. The one who spoke frowned, and the other one lunged forward, throwing an elbow into Butchers nose. It broke easily, she couldn't defend herself in handcuff. Her only reply to that was laughter.

"Cops beatin on tha criminals... how very Jump City of yas."

Her comments did little to diffuse the situation, and by the time they were at the station and they were walking Butcher out her nose was bleeding profusely and her mouth was filled with blood. She reckoned she had a few broken ribs too, but they didn't take mercy on her and instead threw her into the interrogation room. Properly restrained to the table, she was waiting for the detective as spots popped up in her field of vision.

"So what'dya think?" The cop driving asked Barlowe in the passenger seat.

"About what exactly?" Barlowe asked anxiously. He had a couple ideas but he was itching for a cigarette right now.

"This thing with the department of metahuman affairs. You for it or against it?" The Officer explained.

"Well that depends. We have specially equipped and trained officers to try and deal with any metahumans that break the law. How many have you heard actually bringing any in without the titans handing them off?" Barlowe answered with a question of his own. This was a waste of time no matter how you looked at it. The Federal Government were trampling over state rights, which no doubt would have caused pushback from the govenor and senator of each city that endorsed the other titans teams. "I can tell you though that if they have criminals like Zero spearheading their operation, that there's something else going on and this ain't in the public interest," he added pointedly as they arrived at the station.

Barlowe got out and had a chance to see Butcher manhandled out of the van. He gave them a questioning look as she was hauled off. Someone had a unique way of making friends. It was still nagging him as to why she would just openly show up at the number one place to get arrested- he wasn't going to like this, his gut was telling him as he had a quick smoke before heading in after them. He'd enter into the interrogation room with a cup of coffee in one hand and a folder with what he compiled. "Alright Rebecca- let's make this quick so we can get you patched up on yer way to a cell. I hate repeating myself so I'll move onto the important stuff. We have footage from traffic cameras of someone wearing attire closely resembling the description given to us, and what we have found you with. We have also found yer prints on the rifle you tried to murder a supported hero of the state with. I'm sure you have an entertaining story for me..." Barlowe said simply, not completely unsympathetical to how she was treated on the way. Was probably wasting his time even caring but- he'd humor the idea for the moment.

When the detective came in, Butcher noted exactly how direct he was. She wasn't sure if that was a good sign or a bad one, but the idea of being patched up wasn't something to scoff at. Her nose hurt, even though it was nothing she couldn't handle. Not even close. The Titan's were better hitters, she reckoned.

"No 'ello? My paw said anyone who don't introduce themselves is a sleekit bastard." She squinted at his badge for a moment, reading the name. "I'll chalk it up ta bad manner, though, Detective Barlowe."

She straightened her back and rolled her shoulders a bit. She could feel her senses coming back to normal, which was nice. She didn't have a concussion or anything. She could see and think straight, even if a nap sounded wonderful at the moment.

"I came with ya because I know, that in a few hours that phone'll ring and you'll be lettin' me out. Fair warnin'. 'Till then, I wanted a chat. Supported hero of the state. That's a good phrase... are we allowed to smoke in 'ere? You got one for me?"

She'd look to his folder, wondering just how much information he'd managed to get from his sources. He called her Rebecca Telford, so it was unlikely he knew about her family. That was good. She would lose her cool if he'd brought that up, and she was afraid even DOMA's hands would be tied if she did anything like that.

"Yer a right radge, y'know that? Workin' fer the Titans, bein' above the law while you got that badge... it's a lot. Jump City loves these heroes, but me..? I think the lads just have really good PR. Y'know that one of them heroes tried to execute the trespasser that night yer talkin' about? Executioners, judges, juries... and they hold yer leash real tight, don't they? Taught you some tricks too... the coppers in this city even go around due process. This force is rotten right to it's core, ya see. It's been flying fer a long time just fine... but you needa know, if you keep this up they'll come for you next. Get the criminals. All of 'em. You gotta stop being the Titan's lap dog."

Barlowe was still mostly indifferent, despite what Butcher was saying. It did help paint a better picture for him. "It ever get cramped in that small little world of yours?" Barlowe quipped as he fished out his cigarettes, he wasn't a cruel man so lit one up and offered it to her. She was restrained to the table after all. Barlowe would likewise light one up for himself, which may or may not have implied that he was using her as an excuse to smoke himself. Someone would bail her out in a few hours? Part of him doubted that but that would explain the carelessness. Nothing like government corruption to put your work into perspective. "You're awfully well informed. Are you also aware that they had shot up the place because the thief had cloned themselves? And it's a federal offense stealing from a museum, as you should also be aware. No one would bat an eye at this if this were Gotham, if what I've been told is true," Barlowe commented, no dismissing what she was saying but putting it in a different light.

She probably would like it if this was Gotham. "The titans are legally allowed to undertake crimefighting as the situation warrants due to the commendations made by the state officials. They are not above the law, and have likewise not broken any state laws- as viewed by the state. In other words, they have done nothing wrong in the eyes of the state that warrants me needing to arrest them. If you have an issue with that, you may get more traction if you take it up with the governor or senator and leave your illegal .50 cal at home," Barlowe said with a sip of coffee.

Butcher smirked at his comment, but took the cigarette gratefully. The man was civil, if only a little stupid. She couldn't blame him. There was a time when she herself was convinced that heroes and metas - supes in general, were a good thing. She's learned since then. Especially with what she'd seen in her short stay at Jump so far. Even the shiniest little supes had dirt.

"You don't strike me as the type of guy who'd get far in Gotham, laddy. I reckon you'd be gettin' the same treatments as that one - what was the fellers name again? Hood? That one."

He explained that the Titans were sanctioned by the states laws to be heroes, and to that she raised a brow. They weren't deputized, no. Those would be on public record. Robin's real name isn't even anywhere in the books.

"Sanctioned by the state to exist in that little Tower of theirs. Not to commanding the officers of the law. Assault and battery is illegal. Criminals deserve a trial, Barlowe. Don't be a fuckin' loon. What happens when the Titans take the next step, eh? Enforcin laws, passin sentences... when do they get to make the laws? Y'all bloody idiots in this filthy city would just laugh as you reap what you sowed. You're not a bad man, Detective. Jump doesn't deserve it. They're stupid, but they don't deserve that kinda martial law."

She took a long drag on the cigarette, puffing out smoke and looking up to the Detective with hard eyes that had seen more than her years would imply.

"You'll be gettin' that call, cuz that gun wasn't so illegal. My actions weren't so illegal. I was told to get the brats for the federal government before DOMA even showed up. They wanted it quietly, y'see... they didn't want to risk the civil war. Not one bit. Your state, your town, and your corrupt department weren't trusted to do the right thing, ya see... rightfully so, thinking that states even have the right to give anyone immunity to whatever crime they feel the need to commit. Ya gotta bark up a bigger tree for that kinda power. I got a bigger tree. Oh, and the Gotham shit..? There's a reason that fuckin Bat doesn't have a tower in the middle of the fuckin' city. It's illegal. No matter what their police department might say. Heh. Times are changin', old man. Pick a side."

She'd spit the butt of the cigarette, as well as a mouthful of blood onto the floor with a scoff.

"Cowboy law in Jump City. Shit's about to get real crazy round here, I reckon."

And then Barlowe just laughed. Did she seriously just make that claim? Further, was she seriously accussing his department- his entire state of being corrupt? Was she seriously trying to stick up for the criminals that his department and titans have been dealing with for ages it seemed like? "Sorry, it just struck me as funny that you're trying to claim that the would-be supervillains that pass through these doors are treated unfairly," Barlowe said casually finishing his cup of coffee and started on his "second" cigarette since sitting down. This entire thing was bizarre and made little sense to him. For some reason his thoughts shifted to Masters, who he had the "fortune" of hearing on the radio one day- had to love freedom of speech. Masters and people like him were entitled to their opinion same as everyone else, and there was atleast a grain of truth to what he was saying. Barlowe would have preferred dealing with someone like Masters than someone like Butcher, who was a perfect example of taking something too far. Once she was done with her little tirade of accusing literally the entire state of being corrupt, something which did rub him the wrong way because he grew up in Jump. He adjusted his posture and let off a drag from his cigarette before grinding it into the table.

"Claiming to be a hired gun for the government. That's quite a claim, if that's true. But then that would cast into doubt what DOMA's intentions are. Because if people found out that their government was putting hits out on what many would consider to be heroes in their own right- why, that'd generate a whole lot of bad publicity and cast much scrutiny on the department. If it IS true- though I doubt you care, I'm glad it'll be on record that you said so," Barlowe said like a silk covered razor, he was going to hold his ground here. He'd be wasting his time trying to put a dent in her feeling untouchable. She was just a hired gun with a chip on her shoulder for one reason or another over the titans. But that... didn't make enough sense to him. She clearly wasn't in it for money, and if it was a grudge he didn't know the particulars. Clearly DOMA or whoever she worked for wasn't too picky with who they enlisted so that was neither here nor there.

"So while we're on the topic of 'criminal' rights- you decide that girl only deserved an executioner? Or did your superiors forget to pack you a judge and jury when you brought that .50 cal? Because I can assure you that anyone that passes through those doors are put through due processing, evidence is collected and a trial is scheduled as is normal," Barlowe continued more seriously. He'd be judging her reaction before finishing by saying, "So what's your actual issue with the Titans, lassy? Did they bust your boss or something? What made you decide that a teenaged girl's life could just casually be snuffed out  'because you were ordered' to do it?" Barlowe finished his voice barely gaining volume but his demeanor was different than it was a moment ago.

When Barlowe started laughing, Butcher simply raised a brow. She wasn't exactly sure what type of powerplay this was, but she felt like it was a poor one. Easy to see through at least. Or had he finally lifted his veil and revealed that he didn't give a shit about how villains were treated? When he finally spoke, Butcher paused, looking at him like a rather confused rabbit.

"Do... do I think villains might be treated unfairly?"

She asked, then spat the blood that was in her mouth from his officers beating on her while she was in cuffs towards his feet. Then she started laughing herself. This had to be some sort of plausible deniability play right? He turned the recordings on just to have them say that he didn't think any unfair treatment happened right as she had just been beaten. It had to be the case. The detective was crooked. Not shocking, but it was news to note.

"I've worked for your government my whole life. I've served this country and dreamed of serving it since I was eight. A fuckin' hired gun, you god damn loon! And fer yer fuckin' record, I was beatin' to bloody in cuffs on my ride over! Treatin' me real fair considerin' I'd be gettin' that pardon."

He talked more, making it clear he hadn't been listening at all. Whatever. She was fine with what she'd gathered at this point. She'd get a call to get her out, and she'd made the conclusion that Barlowe was as bad as the rest of this division. She came looking for someone she could work with. Nothing of the sort here.

"Tryna kill her... yeah, that's why she be breathin' after a shot from meh. I'm done talkin to yah, yer off yer fuckin' trolley. Get me my lawyer and get the fuck outta 'ere."

She didn't even blink at the question, much less acknowledge it or question why he asked it. He still didn't have the WHY or any information that would actually help anyone understand what motivated her, and she was done with him. The feeling was completely mutual. He wasn't going to get anything out of a rank and file if she was telling the truth. Though it did reinforce the negative impression he already had with DOMA and the big wigs of the federal government. All of this sounded like the results of good ol' fashioned government brainwashing. "Let the record show that yes, you look like shit. Once the chief questions the officers responsible and if it is determined that they had no reason to do so, they will be reprimanded and be required to retake their 'training' course to avoid this breach in discipline in the future," Barlowe said paraphrasing what Kris had stated while also clearly threatening to shoot him and the officers there if they tried to intervene. Of course, the difference here was that none of the cops threatened to KILL anyone. Barlowe would gather up his folder and cup before getting to his feet.

"And why would you need a lawyer? As you said yer expecting to get out of this scott-free because someone in the federal government is going to give you immunity to all of the laws we enforce here," Barlowe added, throwing what she had just said right back in her own face. It was probably petty but in this case it was also valid. Not that he expected her to care, she had already proven that she was incapable of looking beyond the shaders her handlers had put around her eyes. "My duty is to this city and it's citizens. And until now all I had to worry about was keeping a gang war from happening. Now on top of that, I have to worry about a civil war caused by someone half across the country who doesn't have to directly deal with the consequences of their actions," Barlowe said knocking on the door to be let out. "Oh, and as far is Gotham is concerned- you have no idea what I'm capable of," he finished ominously before he was let out. He made sure to ask that someone patch Butcher up on her way to a cell on his way out. Now he had some paperwork to do... fantastic.

Butcher wasn't paying much attention to the Detective anymore. She'd lost her faith in the department, and once she was out of here decided she'd have to move ahead without their support. Something about punishing the officers that were beating on her, but there wasn't a camera on the truck and it'd be their words alone as evidence - no way a department this bloody filthy would be using hers at all. She thought of that movie Rambo, and almost said the words 'First Blood' out loud, but decided against it. Nothing useful was happening here.

"I need a lawyer, because I'm not gonna walk to me bloody hotel after this. He has to earn his keep 'round 'ere."

Like the police should have to in Jump, but again, arguing with this guy was a waste of breath. If he wanted to ignore the federal government and their laws, then they'd be on the receiving end of the next hunt. She'd given the warning. He gave her a... was that a thinly veiled threat? Really? She couldn't get a read on this guy. He wasn't right in the head. She responded with a strange stare and nothing else as they escorted her to the infirmary.

"Can I take that phone call in thar, or does it have ta be after?"

She asked, starting to doubt they'd even give her a call. They didn't reply to her, but after they wrapped her ribs and put her in the jumpsuit, they dropped her off at the phones and gave a tap and a harsh 'make it quick'. She went over and dialed a number from memory, leaning on the wall a bit for support. She was feeling better, but sore was sore.

"Marcello. Get down 'ere and don ya fuckin' dare say I told ya so..."

Upon dropping that name on the phone, it was as if she clicked her fingers and said some magic words. While she waited for her guest to arrive, she would be brought a hot meal and some painkillers. No booze though, as she would likely request. And within the hour, another officer would unlock her cell, bringing her a bag containing her belongings, and inform her that she had been posted bail. She would be escorted out to a limousine. Very conspicuous, obviously, but there wasn't an attempt to hide the persons within. Cigar smoke would be smelled as the door opened for her into the back.

Marcello gestured her in practically off screen, just motioning with his hand in view. "They sure worked you over, eh?" He would shut the door after her and they would be off, in a well protected car. There were patrols along the streets that would fall in line as they passed, just in case. "You need some ice? There's some booze back here too. Help yaself."

The change in attitude was pleasant, perhaps mostly because she was confident that someone was paying a lot of money to make it happen. She was careful not to run into Barlowe again after that, though. Didn't need to see that grouchy fucker again for a while, no, she had things to do before she met with him again. She took the painkillers, a few extra for the road, and was escorted out. The officers kept a wary eye on her, but she paid them little mind as she got in the limousine and immediately took the booze as she grunted at her associate.

"Hn. Aye, but it was worth goin' in fer. Shows em as useless." Her tone was less jovial as it was when the arrest had happened. She seemed to be in soldier mode now, planning the next move. "So reckon I'll get ta plan two then. Ya got one of those cigars fer me? Let's get the fuck outta 'ere."

It was going to be a long two weeks.

Marcello just gave a brief nod when she asked for a cigar, pulling out the case and then handing her one. He also took the liberty of lighting it for her when she was ready for it to be lit. "JCPD is nothin if not passionate. Emphasis on the nothin." He gestured to her. "Course I guess that's why you're here, eh?" He noticed the car wasn't moving and turned to the front. "Tony, get a move on already! You're takin up traffic!"

"Sorry boss!" And then they would take off.

Marcello returned to Butcher. "So what's your next plan then? Still gonna meet up with the feds?"

Glad they were moving, Butcher took a healthy swig of the liquor and let Marcello light her cigar for her after she cut it. She chuckled a bit at his joke at the expense of the JCPD. The lot of them were useless, she agreed.

"Somebody has to do some bloody work 'round 'ere, aye?" She responded, glad the painkillers were in full effect and the liquor seemed to kick in faster. "Nah. That boy, the Nomad one, he wasn't right. Off his trolley, that one. I'm rootin' fer his transfer."

She had a feeling he wouldn't be sticking around. His display of force at the end was nice, but the lad had too much sympathy. He wasn't hardened like a proper solider should be.

"I reckon I'll be usin' you fer a bit. Ya said thar was a group givin' ye a hammerin', aye? I'll start with them."