Bane

January 31, 1998

"No. Don't send it by mail. If there's even the remote possibility someone should see it..."

Karen nodded. "Road trip?"

David frowned, and shook his head. "Give it to L.C. and make sure he understands in no uncertain terms the letters need be delivered by hand."

"Entrust The Order's fate to a Citywalker? David, I don't think that's a good idea."

"If we're going to report this, we need to do it quietly. L.C. has no love for Grifford, or The Order. He'll do it, though. He wouldn't- couldn't - possibly accept what The Order is about to do."

"If it doesn't work?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it."

* * *

Detective Frederick Polovatski flexed his fists, released them, and flexed them again as Karen and David let theirselves into his house.

Karen was wary, eying the empty walls of the Citywalker's house. No pictures, no decorations, nothing to suggest that someone called this house a home.

She and David invited theirselves to stand across from L.C. who was sitting on an older beige fabric couch.

"I'm getting really tired of The Order showing up at my door."

"Well, I mean we're not at your door exactly, are we?" David grinned a lopsided grin. "I mean technically we just let ourselves in."

L.C. grunted. "You're not convincing me why I shouldn't just kick your asses to the curb right now."

"This isn't business." Karen l, always straight to the matter at hand. No points for diplomacy. She cleared her throat. "We're not here on business for The Order."

"A social call from the Walkers?" L.C. rolled his eyes. "To what do I owe the distinct pleasure?"

"We need your help." David cut in front of Karen, and held a gloved hand up between he and L.C.. "At ease, Detective. Hear me out!"

Silence hung a moment in the living room, L.C. now on his feet, mere feet from David and towering over him. They stared hard into one another's eyes.

"Shut up. Both of you. Posturing like you two are going to throw down. You're not going to hit a cop, David. You're not going to hit a member of The Order, L.C.. So, let us all stop pretending, shall we?"

"I know why you're here."

"That's probably not true." David flexed his jaw.

"Kid, there's not an important conversation in this city that I don't hear through the songs that she sings."

"Songs that who sings?" David raised an eyebrow.

"Driftwood, you dolt. I don't like what The Order intends to do. It's going to throw the balance off entirely and probably invite something worse in the process."

"Then you'll help us." Karen looked hopeful.

"I haven't made up my mind about that, yet. I don't like to choose sides."

"What, unless that side is law? Justice?" David shook his head. "I would expect inaction from a lot of people, but not you. You're supposed to be a loose cannon."

"Whoah, fuck you, man." L.C. grimaced. "I didn't tag myself with that stupid nickname. I'm not a movie cop, alright? I have a life outside of work."

Silence, again.

"It's insane, Detective." Karen paced a few steps, if only to mark time. The silence and stillness was uncomfortable. "Hunting down the bad guys is one thing. Annihilating every known person, every man, woman and child..."

L.C. nodded. "I know. I don't like it anymore than you do, but did you come up with a plan to stop it?"

"I've written two letters. They can't go through the mail. Too much of a risk. I need them hand delivered." Karen frowned. The idea sounded good when she discussed it with David, but here with L.C. in the same room, it sounded childish, and self entitled to expect anyone to do her work for her.

"I'm still not convinced. Why not deliver it yourself? Why me?"

David and Karen exchanged a series of expressions. Karen pulled at her collar and shifted feet. "David and I are to lead a registration act put into place by The Order. We're to help relocate any remaining Coven that may be still in Driftwood."

L.C. made an exaggerated effort to search The sleeves of Karen's duster.

"What are you doing, detective?" Karen pulled away from L.C..

"I'm looking for an arm band or," L.C. pulled at the collar of her duster. "...perhaps a pin or insignia."

Karen sighed. "We're not nazis, Herr Detective."

L.C. made a face at Karen.

Karen smirked. "...but in order to stop this from happening, we're going to need help. Our names can't be attached to any resistance."

L.C. grunted what sounded like acquiescence, though it could have come off as annoyance. That would be a correct assessment as well. "If I do this, it has to be the last thing I do for you. No more favors, no more surprise visits. I have my own problems right now. Stands roughly seven feet tall or so. Can't be stopped?"

"No one has seen or heard from Bane in a long time." David rubbed the back of his neck. "He could well be dead and gone for all we know."

"For all you, soldier. What you know and what I know are two entirely different things. He's still here. In Driftwood but not. I can't explain it, except that I know he's still here and when he shows up, I'll be there to bring him in."

David nodded. He felt an argument building inside him, and decided it best for now to stifle it and not push his luck. "Fine. You help us, we'll not ask you for another thing."

"Not one more." L.C.'s voice held disbelief.

"Not a one." Karen agreed. She took a long look around L.C.'s living room. Empty walls, no television. All he had was a couch and a loveseat, a coffee table and an old radio. "Maybe spruce the place up a bit. You were awarded a large sum for your help with The Order, weren't you?"

"I donated that money to the families of the officers killed by Bane when he attacked the armory years ago."

David and Karen exchanged glances. Karen nodded. "Thank you, detective. We trust you. Here's to hoping someone puts a stop to this madness."