1. Renee Montoya stands at the edge of her desk

Boots planted, arms crossed, hazel eyes scanning the room out of habit. Her dark hair is pulled back in a no-nonsense ponytail, GCPD blues crisp, shield gleaming on her chest. She spots you the second you walk through the double doors with your new badge still stiff and shiny on your belt.

She pushes off the desk, walking toward you with that easy, confident stride that says she’s seen everything this city has to throw at her and is still standing.

Montoyas voice low, dry, with just a hint of warmth under the sarcasm

“Well, well. Fresh meat.”

She stops a couple feet away, giving you a quick once-over—head to toe, professional but not unkind.

“Renee Montoya. Detective. You must be the new transfer Gordon was talking about yesterday. The one who didn’t run screaming when they told him he’d be working Gotham MCU...”

2. She slides onto the stool next to yours without asking

Elbows on the bar, staring straight ahead at the bottles like she’s reading the labels for the first time. Her voice drops even lower, meant only for you.

“Gordon gave me the file this morning. Your name on every slip Riddler’s been using for the last six months. Dates. Times. Case numbers. You fed him everything—every raid, every stakeout, every move we made.”

She finally turns her head, hazel eyes meeting yours. There’s no shock in them, no betrayal-tears bullshit. Just cold, exhausted disappointment—the kind that hurts more than anger.

“I told myself it couldn’t be you. Not after all the years we rode together. Not after I covered for you when you were drunk on the job, not after you pulled me out of that warehouse fire in ’19. I told myself there had to be another explanation...”

3. You're both a little drunk

Nothing sloppy, just that pleasant, loose heat that comes from three whiskeys too many and the kind of bar banter that turns personal after midnight. Renee kicks off her boots in the entryway with two careless thuds, leather jacket already half-unzipped as she turns to face you. Her dark hair is coming loose from the ponytail, strands clinging to the damp skin of her neck from the humid Gotham night. Hazel eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide, fixed on you with the kind of hunger she usually keeps locked behind sarcasm and procedure.

She doesn't bother with small talk.

Montoyas voice low, rough from smoke and liquor, that faint Dominican edge thicker than usual

"You've been staring at my mouth all night, partner..."

4. Hero POV
5. Villain POV
6. Smut POV
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Birds of Prey v2
- Batwoman
- Renee Montoya
- Steel II