The Birds and the Beetles

[Ted Kord]

There were times when Gotham City managed to trick the unsuspecting into thinking it was a nice place. A few patches scattered around the city had been scrubbed enough to seem presentable; a few self-contained shopping malls had good enough night time security to preserve them from the addles of petty nocturnal vandalism; and when you were hunched down in the back of a yellow cap, peering up at the timeless art deco skyscrapers towering above, it was easy to forget that you were being chaffered the most wretched hive of scum and villainy that the continental United States had to offer.

No, Ted corrected himself. Even Mos Eisley isn't this bad.

A passing glance was cast over his cell phone, a small blue LED blinking away to inform him that new emails had been pushed to his inbox. Unfortunately, they weren't anything important: unsolicited spam messages mostly, mixed in with a few solicited ones that weren't exactly appropriate for browsing during work hours. He frowned briefly at the time, before his gaze shifted to glance out of the window again.

The taxi drew to the kind of arduous, creaking halt that made Agent Kord particularly glad that they hadn't needed the brakes in an emergency. He grimaced at the grubby exterior of the run-down civic building. Only the finest facilities were made available to the GCPD's Major Crimes Unit, apparently.

Pleasantries and payment were exchanged between the Agent and the driver; the door swung closed with a satisfying clunk. The driver barely waited long enough to check that Kord hadn't managed to catch himself in the door before speeding off; time was money, the Agent idly mused.

A hand reached for his pocket as he ascended the stairs, his D.E.O shield flashed at the uniformed police officer standing sentry outside. The grunted reply was non-committal; they seemed as happy about his presence as he was.

The foyer was dim, and were it not for this century's ban on indoor smoking it would have seemed like he'd stepped into the setting of a 1930s New York detective novel. He probably should have found that reassuring, or at least a little exciting, but he didn't. His eyes settled on the assortment of old school CRT monitors that graced many of the scattered desks. Maybe things weren't stone age, but the faux wood panelling age that the building seemed to be trapped in was a far cry from the modern policing he would have hoped for.

He stepped towards the desk, offering his most ingratiating smile to the secretary sitting behind. "Agent Kord, D.E.O," he introduced. "I believe I'm expected?"

[Guy Gardner]

"Expected, and late," a voice called back to him.

Seated upon built-in bench which had seen much better days was a red-haired man. His crisp suit was softened only by a worn brown overcoat, and he wasn't looking up from the tablet he held in his left hand, his right hand holding a paper cup of coffee which had lost its proper temperature nearly twenty minutes ago. Still, he took a sip and set it aside before clicking off the tablet and dropping it into the pocket of his overcoat as he stood. A moment was taken to straighten his tie and look over the man before him.

So this was Ted Kord, formerly of Kord Industries. Not much of a man to look at, he presumed, but his inventions and innovations had at least been interesting in the glossy pages of Today's Science and Popular Invention. Leaving his cup on the bench for facilities to throw out later, the suited man approached.

"Mr. Kord, I've been sent down to meet you. Name's Gardner, Guy Gardner. Recent transfer to the MCU, here," he introduced himself, extending his hand for a shake. "I trust your delay wasn't due to anything... unfortunate?"

[Ted Kord]

"That would depend entirely on your definition of unfortunate, Gardner-Guy-Gardner," he replied casually, gripped the detective's offered hand firmly and throwing back a tight smile.

There was something definitely off about him, though Ted couldn't quite place what it was. It was probably the outfit mixed with the voice: as if he'd stepped out of the pages of some trashy crime novel. If the agent didn't know any better, he'd almost wonder if he was being punked. He fought the urge to sweep his gaze around the room in search of hidden cameras.

"Nothing untoward though, if that's what you're getting at. It's just that the traffic was - unfortunately - atrocious. Maybe you guys should think about investing a little more manpower in traffic control, instead of wasting it on this ineffective vigilante task force of yours."

[Guy Gardner]

Guy fought the urge to crush Ted's hand in his grip. He could do it, he was fairly sure, but a bit of snark didn't call for such action to be taken right off the bat. Kord was DEO, Gardner was a cop. A bit of discord was to be expected.

"Well, I can't speak to the MCU's past history, but now that I'm here, I'd hardly say we'll be ineffective, anymore," he settled on his reply.

With a grim smirk, he couldn't resist adding, "And, who knows, maybe you'll even be able to do something, too. Now, come on, Detective Saunders is waiting for you."

The disappointment of the foyer turned to a hallway of pure, unbridled apathy. Where there had once been carpet, now square tiles of heavy linoleum lined the floor, one here or there a lighter shade than the rest as they'd been replaced only when unfit to walk on, any more. Depending on the color cast by mismatched fluorescent tubes overhead, the walls were either oatmeal or slate grey, and in some cases a bit of both. With his good suit and well-kept shoes, Guy seemed well out of place, but despite his hard soles, he made little noise with each step, silently managing to still blend in.

Ahead of him, Saunders' desk was empty, and she was nowhere in immediate sight. Slowing his pace, Guy turned off toward the small bank of coffee machines and microwaves on one wall. Plucking a cup from one of the stacks, Guy picked the pot which looked the least terrible and poured. "Looks like we'll have to track her down, now," he stated before shaking in a measure of non-dairy creamer and sugar. "And I have learned to never go looking for her unarmed. You're lucky they sent me to fetch you. Had you been sent up on your own, well, with that badge this lot would probably be writing up another missing persons report, by the end of the day."

[Ted Kord]

Like most cops, this Gardner person was a lot of bark. He certainly seemed like he had the physique to do a little biting too, but like most dogs he seemed brash and cocky. Kord had fought dogs like Gardner before. He'd even fought literal dogs. And a tiger. And a man who had been mutated into some kind of half-dog, half-human hybrid. They'd all learned one important lesson that they would never forget.

Beetles don't bark: but they can sure as hell bite.

While Gardner prattled away to himself, Kord turned his mind to the files he'd been given on the officers assigned to the MCU. Gardner hadn't been in there - Ted made a mental note to give someone an earful about that once he was back at the field office; new transfer be damned - but Saunders certainly was. Young. New. Probably lumbered with babysitting duty because no one else wanted it. To be honest, he felt a little sorry for her.

"Detective Saunders," he mused aloud, eyes sweeping the mostly open-plan office space. "Young, petite redhead, shoulder length hair, looks exactly like the extremely pissed-off looking rookie standing in the Captain's office?"

Ted clapped a hand on Gardner's shoulder, offering him another small smile. "Thanks for the assistance, Guy, but I think I've got it from here. He'd already made it a few paces closer to the office before he hesitated, spinning on his heel for a parting shot. "If I ever need someone to help me track down a coffee machine though -" Index fingers aimed at Gardner like pistols. "- I know who to call."

[Guy Gardner]

"Just don't call me on a business venture," Guy shot back. "I don't want to lose all my money."

So that was Ted Kord, has-been inventor and technological genius, Guy thought. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. Leaning back on the edge of the counter, Guy waited to watch the fireworks, and he took a sip from the coffee cup.

Immediately he grimaced, swallowing the hot mess with great distaste. How could Kendra drink coffee with this much shit in it?

[Kendra Saunders]

Fingers smoothed out the jacket of her tailored suit, a shade of green so dark it was nearly black in the fluorescent light of the police station. Her shield rested atop her holstered Glock, both neatly to one side of her computer terminal. Her desk, in fact, unlike the rest of those in the MCU, was perfectly neat and organized.

The other detectives had already taken to leaving things on her desk or bumping things slightly askew to see how long it took her to put whatever it was back into place. Kendra's OCD paled in comparison to her caffeine addiction, however. And at least the men had learned to *not* mess with her coffee.

Kendra minus coffee was not a happy combination.

"Saunders. My office."

The Captain's voice rang out like a shot, cutting through the din of the squad room. The young detective snapped her shield and holstered Glock to her belt, assuming she was about to be handed another case. She paused briefly before entering the Captain's office, waiting to be acknowledged with a nod.

"Pulling you off the Steele case. Got a new D.E.O. agent liaison and you'll be his go-to Detective. Today is going to be a lot of showing him around Gotham...he's not from around here, and you know the city better than anyone. Otherwise, whatever he needs. I'll shift your case load."

She stood there, gaping, for a good two minutes at the very least. Youngest cop to make Detective in the last fifty years and she was going to be forced to babysit a D.E.O. goon. Disbelief and anger spiced her tone of voice. "Captain, with all...due respect...that's a load of-"

The look of impending doom on the Captain's face stopped her sentence, but could not shift the seething anger that had settled in her hazel eyes and danced across her features. Closing her mouth, Kendra took a deep breath and clenched her hands tightly into fists as the door clicked open behind them.

[Ted Kord]

The Captain's eyes narrowed, daggers firing from between her lids that would have pinned him to the world had they been literal, rather than figurative. Her expression seemed to say: Oh sure, come on in. Ignore the closed door. Ignore manners and protocol. Her voice however said something much more sussinct, revealing her knowledge of his identity and her apparent distain and dismay at his presense. Or maybe just his existance in general.

"Speaking of Agent Kord -"

Ted chose to tackle the two hostile women head on, charging into battle armed only with an incredibly charming smile. Well, that and a highly advanced, self-designed handgun that shot bolts of electricity that could render a human instantly and harmlessly unconscious; but if he was forced to resort to using that against either woman, things probably wouldn't end well for him.

"Sorry to intrude, Captain Sawyer: but I couldn't help seeing how negatively Detective Saunders here seemed to be reacting to the assignment you've given her." Ted shrugged, hand gestures downplaying the awesomeness of his insight and noble intentions. "I thought it might, you know, save you both a little anguish if I introduced myself, so Kendra here doesn't end up with the idea that I'm some sort of stuffy white-collar paper-pusher from Washington."

He turned the smile on her, full force. "I'm actually quite charming."

[Kendra Saunders]

The Captain's expression and tone served to ease Kendra's ruffled feathers, as the saying went. She wasn't any happier about giving her the assignment than the young detective was about accepting it.

But it was just that...an official assignment, and she'd simply have to do what was asked of her...

...did he just say he was charming?!

Kendra dug her fingernails into her palms for a moment, breathing deeply before she even attempted to form a reply. Hopefully, she mused, he wouldn't take her delay in responding the wrong way. Fingers straightened and smoothed out the lapels of her jacket and tugged it neatly into place before one hand extended towards Ted.

Recognition flickered in her gaze as hazel eyes cascaded over his features, her voice emerging after another moment. "It's a...pleasure...to meet you, Agent Kord. I'll be at your service while you're stationed here in Gotham."

Well, at least that had come out in a polite and calm tone of voice. Her mother would be proud, and the Captain looked a touch relieved that she hadn't allowed her sharp tongue its normally free reign.

[Ted Kord]

The smile lingered for just a moment longer. "Best news I've heard all day," he replied, his baby browns scrutinised the tell take twitches of Kendra's hazel eyes, inferring much more than the detective voluntarily revealed.

After only a second or so he turned them away, shifting his focus back to the Captain. He considered working his charms there, but from what he could gauge from her expression and posture, it would probably be a lost cause. Plus, she looked like her steely gaze would burrow through the back of his skull, or burn out his soul if he maintained eye contact for too long.

A rare dose of seriousness managed to creep into Ted's voice. "You don't want me here." It was hardly a leap of logic. "You don't want the DEO all over your turf, and you're about as happy to waste manpower on me as I am depriving you of it. I'm not here to get in your way; and as soon as I've learned what your way is, I have every intention of staying out of it."

He hoped his body language was conveying his sincerity: a history of not being taken seriously was something of a plague. "If you can guarantee the full cooperation your team for the next three days, I'll get done; get out; and you can have your detective back." He shrugged. "Fair enough?"

Sawyer seemed to muse the proposal for a question before ever so slightly inclining her head. "Fair enough," she agreed.

"Then I'd best get started," he said, nodding his head in appreciation. "Thank you, Captain. I'd best not keep you."

Ted turned on his heel in an instant; he was half way to the door and to freedom when the Captain's voice interrupted him. "Incidentally, Agent -"

Ted grimaced, then mentally smudged the expression from his face before he turned back.

"The full cooperation of my team was guaranteed from the outset. I may not want you here, but I am a professional; and the same is true of every one of my men." She hesitated for a split second, her eyes flicking to Kendra for an instant. "They're also armed. You might want to bear that in mind before you spend too much extra energy being -"

She flashed the faintest hint of a soul-wrenchingly icy smile. "- charming."

Nervous eyes flicked in Kendra's direction, whose holstered Glock seemed even more blatant. He echoed the Captain's smile with a hollow one of his own. "Fair enough."

[Kendra Saunders]

Her smile warmed her features this time, as if the prospect of shooting him was suddenly making her day alot more positive. Which it was in some way, though she certainly didn't relish the prospect of hurting the poor man.

Well, not much anyway.

Kendra dipped her head in acknowledgment to Captain Sawyer, before straightening herself and following Agent Kord out of the woman's office. Remaining silent for a moment, she strode over to her desk to grab her keys and her cell phone. Tucking the phone into her pocket, she turned and caught sight of Guy Gardner standing on the far side of the squad room. Nodding to him briefly, she returned her attention to the the newest thorn in her side.

At least it would only be a couple of days, she mused.

"Anyplace you'd like to go first, Agent Kord?" Kendra asked, motioning for him to follow her to the elevators that would take them down to the parking levels beneath police headquarters.

[Ted Kord]

"Arkham Asylum."

His eyes narrowed as her gaze snapped in his direction, some sort of hilarious you're crazy themed joke presumably forming on the tip of her tongue. "I'm not checking myself in," he retorted immediately.

The door of the elevator pinged; ever the gentleman, Ted slipped his arm through the metal doors, preventing them from doing that irritating close at the last second trick that elevator doors always seemed to love doing. "But Arkham is the holding tank for most of the criminal crazies this city seems to be constantly spewing out. If the DEO is going to be helping you guys round up these nutbars, we've gotta be sure that the place you're stashing them is secure enough."

He slipped into the elevator car beside her, a little unnerved by the way the clunky old contraption rumbled as the doors closed. His eyes sought out the emergency stop button. Just in case.

"We don't want any break-outs or anything like that," he continued, hoping conversation would keep his mind off the juddering death trap. Not for the first time - and probably not for the last, either - he lamented the fact that he wasn't allowed to wear his utility belt on the job. A grappling gun would have been pretty damned reassuring right now.

"The last thing we need is the same villains busting out of Arkham and going up against the Batman week after week. The media would have a field day."

[Kendra Saunders]

"Media generally has a field day in Gotham when someone wears white after Labor Day. It doesn't take much with them." Kendra replied with a surprising amount of candor. Then again, as a cop and now a detective, she had more experience than she really wanted dealing with reporters, photographers, and those haughty enough to call themselves journalists.

It was enough to make a girl ill, most days.

When the elevator reached the garage level, Ted followed Kendra out of the clattering deathtrap. She strode past the row of squad cars, and the unmarked sedans that may as well have been marked for all their subtlety. Not that her car (http://oi46.tinypic.com/sdn1pw.jpg) was any more subtle, but it was at least impeccably maintained and a machine she could trust.

"Hop in, Agent Kord...and buckle up. I may drive a little fast." Kendra said, an honest smile curling her lips as she slid behind the wheel and turned the key in the ignition.

[Ted Kord]

Ted's eyebrows climbed as they arrived at a car that looked like it had fallen out of the Hot Wheels collection Ted's mom still had in the attic back home. It had all the hallmarks of a classic American muscle car, right down to the chunky dashboard and tiny windshield that offered about as much visibility as a half-open mail slot. His gaze turned to Kendra with a healthy amount of scepticism.

"You drive this?" he muttered, grabbing for the handle and pulling the creaking door open. The seat was incredibly low, and the foot-well was modestly proportioned; probably enough for a tiny little lady person like Detective Saunders, but a little snug for someone with big man legs like Ted.

Not a great place to sit while wearing a suit, either. As he eased himself awkwardly in, he made a mental note to shake up his wardrobe if he was going to be spending any more time riding around in this thing. The door closed with a resounding clunk; the seatbelt locked into place with a considerably less reassuring click.

Secure, he turned his attention to Kendra, throwing up plenty of sarcasm to mask the nervousness that had taken residence in his stomach. "You're braver than I thought."

[Kendra Saunders]

"She's got it where it counts, Kord."

Kendra lofted a slender brow and buckled her own seatbelt after setting her phone in the waiting holder. Sparing a glance at the distinctly uncomfortable looking agent at her side, she desperately tried to mask her smile and failed. This was going to be far more entertaining than she had originally presumed. Perhaps it wouldn't be the dreadful chore she first thought.

"She's a 1971 Dodge Challenger that's been completely restored from the ground up. My dad and I rebuilt the engine and did most of the body work, save for the glass and the paint job." she noted with pride in her voice, fingers trailing briefly over the dash. The engine rumbled to life, echoing loudly in the garage as she guided the car swiftly through the maze of the garage.

Outside, the mid-day traffic was at its usual frenetic pace. The quickest way to Arkham was straight through the heart of the city over to the east side. Kendra bit her lower lip as she thought a moment and then gunned the engine as she slid into the steady traffic and then began weaving through it.

[Ted Kord]

The way his fingers wrapped around the grab handle above the door was involuntary; and bearing in mind that the detective had just admitted to pretty much building the thing herself, he didn't have any reason to put much faith in it's ability to stay attached, either. It wasn't that he specifically doubted her technical ability: it was merely an unknown quantity, and for someone who was acutely aware of every single possible permutation of going wrong in both the car's renovation and the detective's rather enthusiastic approach to the gas pedal, the whole uncertainty was leaving him decidedly perturbed.

The only part of his brain that seemed to be acting freely was the part that oversaw sarcasm; he bit back some comment about having actually paid someone to paint the car such a wretched shade of yellow, and focused instead on paying attention to absolutely anything but the view beyond the windshield. The first target his eyes proposed was the detective's blouse. Not helping. He selected the glove box instead.

"So, I guess the elephant in the -" He trailed off momentarily. "- really cramped car is that you didn't seem all that thrilled about this assignment." He mustered a shrug, though it was hard to pull it off with one hand gripping the interior of the car for safety. "Should I be taking that personally, or do you just have a blanket dislike of government agents?"

[Kendra Saunders]

Fingers slid sunglasses over her eyes as she continued to take turns just a little faster, and accelerate through the narrow openings in traffic with a great deal of...enthusiasm. It was pure, unalloyed pleasure when she had the chance to drive, even with the present company her Captain had foisted on her.

"Should I be taking that personally, or do you just have a blanket dislike of government agents?"

She had the good grace to wince as she eased up on the gas pedal, tilting her head for a brief moment to glance over at Ted. Her dad would have whacked her upside the back of the head for being so rude, and muttered about having taught her better.

"I'm sorry." Kendra began, bringing the car to a stop at a red light, one hand rising to dip her glasses down enough for hazel eyes to meet his. "It's not you. I just have a general dislike of being saddled with assignments just because I'm the rookie detective. I expected it, really...but no offense to you, playing chauffeur for D.E.O. doesn't exactly compare to working on the murder cases I had on my desk."

[Ted Kord]

"Well, if it's any consolation," Ted threw back, trying to pull off a smile but ultimately ending up seeming constipated as as Kendra executed another NASCAR weave through the traffic, "As soon as this is over, there's absolutely no way I'll voluntarily get in a car with you again. Assuming you haven't crashed and killed us both already by then."

He turned away; peered through the windshield looking for landmarks, but all he could really make out was the bottom five stories of an endless canyon of skyscrapers and tenement buildings. Gotham was a vertical city: while the tall corporate monoliths were largely confined to the business districts at the centre of the city, even the fringes of the city's island heart offered a Super Mario assortment of rooftops and platforms for vigilantes to run across, jump off, and zip-line between. It was no wonder there were so many of their ilk here: it was like superhero Disney Land.

"So why'd you become a cop?" he asked, springing a topic change out of nowhere to help distract him from his impending death. "Was it -" He searched for a careful way to word it. "- something to do with your mother? Your file mentioned that she died, but didn't go into any specifics." He glanced in her direction again. "Or is that too personal a question?"

[Kendra Saunders]

"Agent Kord, believe it or not, I have an absolutely spotless driving record. Well...mostly spotless. If you go far enough back, you may find a rash of speeding tickets from when I was a teenager. I blame grandpa for that, however." Kendra grinned a bit sheepishly and took a more sedate pace through the outskirts of Gotham, sunglasses pushed back up into place.

It was a glorious afternoon, and she suddenly had the urge to take a drive on the country roads well outside the city limits. But she had duties to attend, and an assignment, no matter what she thought of the latter. His question caught her slightly off guard, especially since it mentioned 'file'...since when was she on the Federal radar? Or was it because she'd been assigned to him before his arrival and he'd asked for her file?

Either way, she mused, an answer would be found. For the time being however, Ted was still waiting for a response. "Partially. Also, my dad was a Marine. So it was either the Corps or being a cop, and I decided on cop pretty early on."

[Ted Kord]

Sure, blame your grandfather, Ted's mind muttered to him. Who is he, Cyril Saun-

Subconsciously, Ted's fingers tightened their grip. Detective Saunders, as in, Cyril Saunders? Speed Saunders? World renowned racing driver and childhood hero of one Theodore Stephen Kord since about five minutes short of forever? Ted's heart started contorting weirdly in his chest; he wasn't entirely sure whether it was childish adulation or abject terror that the revelation had inspired. Perhaps a mix of both.

That her father was a Marine didn't much help things; not on the Reassuring things to know about Detective Saunders front at any rate. "Well, I'm certainly glad you picked cop," Ted offered back, his brain connecting to his mouth before any part of his grey matter had the opportunity to apply a Do we accidentally seem like we're making a pass? filter.

"I feel a lot safer being potentially annoying around someone who doesn't have easy access to automatic weapons."

[Kendra Saunders]

Oh, she tried not to laugh.

Tried not to extend his obvious discomfort, wondering to herself if he'd read far enough into her file to know who her grandpa was.

Tried so very hard to resist the urge to drift around a sharp turn into the long drive that led to the massive gates of Arkham Asylum.

Kendra failed spectacularly at behaving herself. Her laughter was bright as it escaped her lips, the gleeful sound in sharp contrast to the deft maneuver she managed to get the car to execute. She took a much more mild pace up the long drive, taking the time to compose herself and let Ted at least pretend he wasn't about to die.

"You are perfectly safe around me, even we do find ourselves within arm's reach of an assault rifle. I don't shoot annoying people...too much paperwork to file for an accidental weapons discharge, you know."

She stopped next to the imposing guard outpost, the great black gates now a few scant meters ahead. Window rolled down, she passed over her ID and her shield for verification, along with the ID Ted freed one hand to give her. "Detective Saunders, MCU, and Agent Kord of the DEO." Kendra said, her voice under much better control.

[Curtis Knox]

At first glance the office seemed spartan: but that was an illusion created by a meticulous sense of organisation. Rich wood pannelled the walls, and gave a feeling of wealth and luxury. Bookshelves recessed into them carried a veritable library of literature: everything from psychology to science fiction; from medical journals to magical journeys. Artefacts too littered those shelves: souvenirs from exotic lands, each one perfectly poised to blend into the room's atmosphere, leaving it full but not cluttered. The crimson carpet was plush and carefully cleaned; it marked out a vast welcoming space, interrupted only by the desk that stood sentry in front of the vast, landscape-filled bay window, and the invitingly comfortable chairs that sat ready for visitors.

Behind the desk sat Doctor Curtis Knox, lost in silent contemplation. Like the room, his desk was meticulously organised, but comfortably so: everything had it's place not because of some obsessive or compulsive desire for order, but simply because that is where each item had always been. The only things that disrupted the quaint antiquity that the writing mat, the ink well, the waiting pens and quills, the antique lamp, and the miniature globe all conjured were the computer - a necessary evil in these times - and the intercom.

It was the latter abomination of modern technology that disturbed him, chiming a harsh synthetic buzz as it so frequently did. "Doctor Knox," a voice spoke; Ann Carver, his ever-persistent secretary.

A sigh escaped him as he triggered the intercom, tired words tumbling from his lips without any pretence of civility. "What is it, Miss Carver?"

"I'm sorry to have to disturb you, but I've just been contacted by Security. A Detective and a DEO Agent are at the front gates, but I don't seem to have anything scheduled. Were you expecting them?"

A frown creased the Doctor's brow. He twisted in his seat, peering down the grass-bordered driveway to the distant sight of an obnoxiously painted and crudely designed automobile. "No, Miss Carver," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "I was not expecting them at all."

There was a moment of hesitation before the secretary spoke again. "Should I send them away? I can tell them you're busy, and have them schedule a proper appointment."

Curtis drew in a slow breath. "No, that won't be necessary." He turned back to his desk, and settled more comfortably into the high-backed leather seat. "Arkham Asylum is always more than happy to help the police with anything they need."

[Kendra Saunders]

"Miss Carver will meet you in the lobby. Please keep these visitor badges pinned to your IDs and return them on your way out." The guard said after some few moments, begrudgingly handing everything back over to Kendra.

It had taken some few minutes to obtain permission to enter, during which they'd sat in silence while the dour guard glared as best he could from his little glass box. Having dropped by without an appointment however, it was to be expected, which is why she simply smiled and waited there beside Ted, her car idly rumbling.

The right hand side of the massive gates gave a theatrical creak and groan as it slowly retracted open, wide enough to allow her entrance. The car slid through slowly, taking a slow, proper speed up the remaining portion of the drive, before coming to a stop in one of the marked visitor spaces. Slender fingers unbuckled her seat-belt, allowing it to retract as she clipped her badge and pass to her belt. Her glock and its holster were removed and securely set beneath a panel between the front seats, in lieu of leaving it in the hands of the security they'd soon be passing through.

"Ready?" Kendra spoke, turning to glance at Ted before slipping gracefully out of the car and closing the door.

[Ted Kord]

Freedom beckoned, oh so sweet as the car door opened. The ground looked so inviting: so safe, so stable, and so blessedly stationary. Unfortunately, the car wasn't all too keen on the prospect of him escaping; the cramped leg-space he'd clambered into was putting up a fight, restraining his man-legs from finding their way outside. Only when Ted abandoned any hopes of remaining graceful and presentable did he succeed, half-climbing and half-falling his way out onto the Arkham Asylum parking lot.

Finally feeling his fate back in his own hands, Ted smoothed down the front of his shirt and straightened, eyes sweeping his surroundings meerkat style to survey what the Challenger had prevented him from properly seeing. Mostly, he was looking for escape routes - perhaps a vehicle he could commandeer in the name of national security or something - or failing that, some way to render the Detective unconscious and confiscate her keys.

His gaze settled on a men-in-white-coats van, and he wondered if getting back into a car with Kendra would be sufficient grounds for insanity. A life spent in a comfy padded room seemed infinitely more appealing than a life ended in a high-speed collision with some kind of vehicle or surface that didn't feel like it was going to rattle apart at any moment.

"Yeah," he grunted, eyes sweeping the windows of the vast old house in search of his secondary point of concern: creepy looking crazy murderer people staring at him out of windows. There was a faint sigh of relief as he spotted none, though the voice in his mind reminded him that maybe they were just super-stealthy creepy looking crazy murderer people.

He forced his expression into a friendly-ish smile. "Ladies first, Detective."

[Kendra Saunders]

Her own expression mirrored his, a polite 'smile' residing on her lips as she moved forward. "How very chivalrous of you, Agent Kord. Thank you." Kendra said lightly, smoothing out her blouse and straightening her jacket as she climbed the steps up to the broad porch and the waiting door.

Door was perhaps the wrong word. Ornate, heavy-looking double doors that looked suited to when this monstrosity had still been a mansion. But knowing what it had locked up behind it made it seem...out of place, somehow. Years of learning to bluff at poker against her father, however, left her with an ability to keep her expressions smooth and even. There was nothing to betray her unease at entering the facility as a brawny guard glanced at her visitor ID and pulled open one half of the door to admit them into the belly of the beast.

Well, beast was a relative term. It might have been a hospital and prison for the criminally insane and insanely powerful, but it was still well maintained. The interior lobby hearkened back to the building's origin, in spite of the obvious security and medical paraphernalia that was tucked away in an attempt to make them unobtrusive to the eye. At the base of the grand staircase, waited a petite woman with glasses perched on the end of her nose and a blouse with one too many ruffles on it to be fashionable.

"Miss Carver, I presume? I'm Detective Kendra Saunders, and this is Agent Ted Kord. I do appreciate you being able to accommodate our unannounced visit." Kendra said with a slightly warmer smile, shaking the woman's proffered hand.

"Doctor Knox is waiting in his office. Please follow me." the secretary said crisply, turning with almost military precision to lead them up the stairs.

A couple of flights of stairs and one long, plushly carpeted hallway later, they entered what was presumably Miss Carver's office and the very formal waiting area. Knocking softly on the door, she paused until a deep voice sounded from beyond it. She opened it and stood aside, to allow them to pass, eying them both with thinly veiled displeasure at the interruption to her perfectly ordered day.

Kendra stepped through first, hazel eyes adjusting to the light and taking in the antique decor. It was a sight to behold, no less so than its occupant, who rose from behind his desk. "Doctor Knox..." she began, striding forward to offer her hand. "...I do appreciate you making time to see us. Please forgive the abruptness of our arrival."

[Curtis Knox]

Knox rose as his visitors entered, a warm smile arranged on his features as the young woman strode towards his desk. He returned her handshake with gentle firmness; not quite the traditional and suave greeting he was used to exchanging with a lady, but in this day and age such archaic manners were more likely to be considered as sexist or chauvinist rather than conveying the polite respect that was intended.

Crows feet crinkled at the corners of his bright and perceptive eyes as his gaze examined the duo, weighing up all the details that his psychological and life experience could divine from them in just a glance. "I would imagine," he guessed, eyes flicking from Kendra to Ted and back again, "That you are the Detective, and your friend here is the Agent."

He turned his attention fully to the other man, gauging the movement of the muscles in his shoulder to determine whether or not another handshake was necessary. Kord's hand remained firmly in his pocket; an amateurish attempt to prevent Knox from becoming too comfortable around him, but one that had no doubt proven effective in the past. Perhaps he was subconsciously considering some sort of good cop, bad cop scenario, letting the woman establish herself as the more friendly, amenable visitor while he remained subtly confrontational.

Knox met his gaze, and extended a hand regardless; his expression maintained the same pleasant smile that it had carried since the moment they'd entered, but his eyes almost dared Kord to let himself appear rude in front of the Detective by refusing the gesture.

"Your trousers," he added by way of explanation. "They've been tailored, and from the look of the fabric they're too expensive for anyone from the GCPD to risk wearing them while at work. No offence, Detective," he added, his eyes flicking to Kendra for only an instant.

[Ted Kord]

Ted could see that he was being sized up; it was to be expected, really. You couldn't walk into the office of an eminent psychologist without expecting him to try and profile you even a little.

In truth, that was part of the reason for being here: Arkham Asylum was something of a dumping ground for Gotham's more outlandish criminals. If the DEO was going to be assisting the GCPD, they had to know whether the holding facilities here were going to be up to scratch, or if they'd need to ship them off to a better equipped location elsewhere in the States. Ted cared very little about whether or not the Asylum could cure criminals; but he definitely needed to know if Knox and his staff were smart enough to sift the normals from the crazies.

That said, if Kord was going to be helping to lock up vigilantes as well as villains, it'd be nice to know that the place they were being shipped off to wasn't too barbaric.

"Agent Ted Kord," he introduced, finally electing to return the handshake; he kept it brief, but made a point of matching the firmness of the Doctor's grip pound for pound. "This is Detective Saunders. And yes," he added, "I'm not local. Just transferred in from DC."

[Curtis Knox]

From Washington. Another crude psychological tactic. By providing slightly more information than was absolutely necessary, Kord was testing him again. An inexperienced interrogator might become cocky and complacent in the face of answers that came more easily than they expected; or they might back off completely, not wanting to push their luck with a line of inquiry that had already proven fruitful.

"I trust this means that the DEO has decided to help us with Gotham's little -" he trailed off for a moment, mustering a knowing look. "- criminal insanity problem." The air quotes were heavily implied in his tone.

Waiting for his guests to be seated, Curtis followed suit, reclining back into a seat that was considerably more comfortable and grand than the one afforded to visitors. His fingers laced before him, and he set his gaze firmly on the Detective: no offence to Agent Kord, but it was a considerably more pleasant place to rest his eyes.

"So, Detective," he said with yet another smile, "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit? Are you introducing Agent Kord here to the neighbours, or is there something specific that requires my expert attention?"