Fic: Gotham City Remix (6/7)
Fic: Gotham City Remix (6/7)
Summary: Gorden Walker has taken Sam Hostage. To save him, Dean and Chloe go into the heart of darkness: Gotham City.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural/DCU
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: Pg for language and minor violence.
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #61 winter. The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Sam leaned against his bonds in exhaustion. He’d been trying to get out of the ropes for hours. And the end result, they’d loosened just a little. But then he’d leaned into the slack out of tiredness, and tightened them right back up.
It was like trying to learn to walk all over again. On some level, he understood that he was trying to retrain neurotransmitters and that progress didn’t just happen overnight. Particularly for something that required fine motor skills like untying a rope. But it was so frustrating!
He felt like he was trying to climb Mt. Everest with rocks in his pockets and cement overshoes.
It didn’t help matters to think about Dean, in jail here in Gotham, with Agent Hendrickson quite possibly closing in. From everything that Gordon had said, Sam was sure that Dean wouldn’t last long in a Gotham jail. Even with Dean’s natural ability to fall into a metaphorical sewer and still find metaphorical gold there. Metaphorically speaking.
With a sigh, Sam stared down at the ropes. If only untying the ropes was like pushing a button or moving something heavy. He knew he could do that. When Dean’s wellbeing hung in the balance, he could find it in himself to move mountains.
But not untie ropes with his brain - apparently.
So he was no Jean Grey. Right now he’d settle for being a River Tam. Unfortunately, he was more like Uri Gellar.
With another long sigh, he leaned his head back, and stared up at the rusty post he was attached to.
He blinked. Why the hell couldn’t I just punch through the beam?
As he probed the thought, he looked around the room to see if he was tied to a load-bearing support. It appeared so. By punching through the thing, he just might bring the entire building down on himself.
But maybe not. Maybe - if he hit it just right - he’d fall forward. Then, the beam itself would protect him from the worst of the debris.
Under any other circumstances, he’d never in a million years try anything so crazy. But his brother was in trouble.
So he shut his eyes, and visualized an invisible wrecking ball punching its way through the beam. Over his head he heard a metal ringing and felt the vibration dance its way down his spine. He looked up in time to see the ceiling buckle overhead before he was pitched forward on his face. Heavy debris rained down on him with crushing force. Just before he blacked out, one thought crossed his mind: that was a mistake.
Then he knew nothing.
***
Police Commissioner Jim Gordon stared across his desk at the FBI agent who had managed to catch the attention of most of the Gotham Major Crimes Unit. In the space of a few short days, Agent Hendrickson had helped them clear out a major chunk of their backlogged paperwork, suggest and implement a more effective filing system, and even re-open a few cold cases by giving the detectives new avenues to peruse.
All in the name of finding a misplaced suspect: Dean Winchester.
In a way, Gordon felt sorry for Mr. Winchester. Agent Hendrickson was relentless. That was the kind of motivated spirit that the GCPD needed more of.
“Detective Bullock told me that you’ve made yourself indispensable to our staff,” Commissioner Gordon took off his glasses and polished them clean before returning them to his eyes.
Agent Hendrickson shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve always been a quick student of the game. I get the impression that the rules here are different than in most cities.”
“That’s God’s own truth,” Gordon said. He got up and walked to the window. Outside, a baleful yellow sun tried its best to break through the perpetual miasma that hung over the city. “Gotham has its own special character.”
“It’s like the poorest part of New York on the coldest midnight of the year,” Hendrickson observed.
“I prefer to think of her as a grand old lady,” Gordon said. “Past her prime, maybe. But there’s life still in her.”
Gordon turned to look at Hendrickson thoughtfully. “She could use a few more men like you.”
Agent Hendrickson smiled in a self-depreciating way. “It’s too bad that I’m committed to bringing Dean Winchester to justice.”
“Yes,” Gordon cleared his throat. “About that.” He walked over to his desk drawer, and pulled out two sheets of paper. Both had been delivered to him about five minutes prior. Both would make the young agent very unhappy.
Oh well, Gordon thought philosophically. It’s all well and good to be an idealist. But sometimes it takes a cynical streak to make a man a truly good detective.
“Approximately two hours ago, Mr. Winchester was released into the custody of an official representative from the Justice League of America.”
“Excuse me?” Agent Hendrickson blinked.
“I have a signed order here - bearing the signature of the President of the United States, no less. It’s a bit of overkill, but I will say that the Justice League knows how to cut through the red tape.”
“Excuse me?” The agent looked like he’d just been told that there was no Santa Clause.
“The Justice department cut a deal with the attorney for the brothers Winchester. They plea-bargained down to lifetime community service - to be served with the Justice League. Apparently the heroes have big plans for those boys.” Commissioner Gordon chuckled. “I almost feel sorry for them.”
“I don’t . . . That’s.” Agent Hendrickson looked completely pole axed.
“And - You’re to be given a commendation.”
“I am?”
Commissioner Gordon nodded, “And a promotion, if this second order is any indication.”
“They delivered the order to you?” Agent Hendrickson stared at him suspiciously.
“They would have to, son. Because your new job - is to be the FBI Liaison to the Gotham City Police Department.”
Hendrickson blinked.
“Excellent detective work - on the Winchester case that is,” Gordon smiled. “You’re going to fit in here just fine.”
“Thanks,” Hendrickson said as he slowly sat down.
Gordon smiled the tiniest bit. “You’ll probably want to save the second letter - although I understand that they want to give you a full ceremony. Present you a plaque and everything. And you’ll want to report to the local FBI Headquarters. Congratulations, Agent Hendrickson. Welcome to Gotham City.”
Agent Hendrickson appeared slightly mollified by Commissioner Gordon’s words. Although the commissioner thought he could see the gleaming suspicion in the agent’s eyes that Dean Winchester had pulled something over on him.
Ah well, Commissioner Gordon thought with a mental shrug. He’s a problem for the Justice League now. He chuckled mentally. Although, judging by his rap sheet, I feel sorry for the hero who is tasked with looking after him.
Summary: Gorden Walker has taken Sam Hostage. To save him, Dean and Chloe go into the heart of darkness: Gotham City.
Author: pen37
Beta: Clarksmuse
Fandoms: Smallville/Supernatural/DCU
Characters: Chloe, Sam, Dean
Pairing:Chloe/Dean
Rating: Pg for language and minor violence.
This is a part of the Special Projects series. You can find the rest of the series here.
Written for the Crossovers100 challenge. Prompt #61 winter. The table is here.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7
Sam leaned against his bonds in exhaustion. He’d been trying to get out of the ropes for hours. And the end result, they’d loosened just a little. But then he’d leaned into the slack out of tiredness, and tightened them right back up.
It was like trying to learn to walk all over again. On some level, he understood that he was trying to retrain neurotransmitters and that progress didn’t just happen overnight. Particularly for something that required fine motor skills like untying a rope. But it was so frustrating!
He felt like he was trying to climb Mt. Everest with rocks in his pockets and cement overshoes.
It didn’t help matters to think about Dean, in jail here in Gotham, with Agent Hendrickson quite possibly closing in. From everything that Gordon had said, Sam was sure that Dean wouldn’t last long in a Gotham jail. Even with Dean’s natural ability to fall into a metaphorical sewer and still find metaphorical gold there. Metaphorically speaking.
With a sigh, Sam stared down at the ropes. If only untying the ropes was like pushing a button or moving something heavy. He knew he could do that. When Dean’s wellbeing hung in the balance, he could find it in himself to move mountains.
But not untie ropes with his brain - apparently.
So he was no Jean Grey. Right now he’d settle for being a River Tam. Unfortunately, he was more like Uri Gellar.
With another long sigh, he leaned his head back, and stared up at the rusty post he was attached to.
He blinked. Why the hell couldn’t I just punch through the beam?
As he probed the thought, he looked around the room to see if he was tied to a load-bearing support. It appeared so. By punching through the thing, he just might bring the entire building down on himself.
But maybe not. Maybe - if he hit it just right - he’d fall forward. Then, the beam itself would protect him from the worst of the debris.
Under any other circumstances, he’d never in a million years try anything so crazy. But his brother was in trouble.
So he shut his eyes, and visualized an invisible wrecking ball punching its way through the beam. Over his head he heard a metal ringing and felt the vibration dance its way down his spine. He looked up in time to see the ceiling buckle overhead before he was pitched forward on his face. Heavy debris rained down on him with crushing force. Just before he blacked out, one thought crossed his mind: that was a mistake.
Then he knew nothing.
***
Police Commissioner Jim Gordon stared across his desk at the FBI agent who had managed to catch the attention of most of the Gotham Major Crimes Unit. In the space of a few short days, Agent Hendrickson had helped them clear out a major chunk of their backlogged paperwork, suggest and implement a more effective filing system, and even re-open a few cold cases by giving the detectives new avenues to peruse.
All in the name of finding a misplaced suspect: Dean Winchester.
In a way, Gordon felt sorry for Mr. Winchester. Agent Hendrickson was relentless. That was the kind of motivated spirit that the GCPD needed more of.
“Detective Bullock told me that you’ve made yourself indispensable to our staff,” Commissioner Gordon took off his glasses and polished them clean before returning them to his eyes.
Agent Hendrickson shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve always been a quick student of the game. I get the impression that the rules here are different than in most cities.”
“That’s God’s own truth,” Gordon said. He got up and walked to the window. Outside, a baleful yellow sun tried its best to break through the perpetual miasma that hung over the city. “Gotham has its own special character.”
“It’s like the poorest part of New York on the coldest midnight of the year,” Hendrickson observed.
“I prefer to think of her as a grand old lady,” Gordon said. “Past her prime, maybe. But there’s life still in her.”
Gordon turned to look at Hendrickson thoughtfully. “She could use a few more men like you.”
Agent Hendrickson smiled in a self-depreciating way. “It’s too bad that I’m committed to bringing Dean Winchester to justice.”
“Yes,” Gordon cleared his throat. “About that.” He walked over to his desk drawer, and pulled out two sheets of paper. Both had been delivered to him about five minutes prior. Both would make the young agent very unhappy.
Oh well, Gordon thought philosophically. It’s all well and good to be an idealist. But sometimes it takes a cynical streak to make a man a truly good detective.
“Approximately two hours ago, Mr. Winchester was released into the custody of an official representative from the Justice League of America.”
“Excuse me?” Agent Hendrickson blinked.
“I have a signed order here - bearing the signature of the President of the United States, no less. It’s a bit of overkill, but I will say that the Justice League knows how to cut through the red tape.”
“Excuse me?” The agent looked like he’d just been told that there was no Santa Clause.
“The Justice department cut a deal with the attorney for the brothers Winchester. They plea-bargained down to lifetime community service - to be served with the Justice League. Apparently the heroes have big plans for those boys.” Commissioner Gordon chuckled. “I almost feel sorry for them.”
“I don’t . . . That’s.” Agent Hendrickson looked completely pole axed.
“And - You’re to be given a commendation.”
“I am?”
Commissioner Gordon nodded, “And a promotion, if this second order is any indication.”
“They delivered the order to you?” Agent Hendrickson stared at him suspiciously.
“They would have to, son. Because your new job - is to be the FBI Liaison to the Gotham City Police Department.”
Hendrickson blinked.
“Excellent detective work - on the Winchester case that is,” Gordon smiled. “You’re going to fit in here just fine.”
“Thanks,” Hendrickson said as he slowly sat down.
Gordon smiled the tiniest bit. “You’ll probably want to save the second letter - although I understand that they want to give you a full ceremony. Present you a plaque and everything. And you’ll want to report to the local FBI Headquarters. Congratulations, Agent Hendrickson. Welcome to Gotham City.”
Agent Hendrickson appeared slightly mollified by Commissioner Gordon’s words. Although the commissioner thought he could see the gleaming suspicion in the agent’s eyes that Dean Winchester had pulled something over on him.
Ah well, Commissioner Gordon thought with a mental shrug. He’s a problem for the Justice League now. He chuckled mentally. Although, judging by his rap sheet, I feel sorry for the hero who is tasked with looking after him.