View source for 2012-02-17 - The Mark

{{Logsummary|
Title=The Mark
|Summary=Attempting to find her feet as a vigilante-in-potentia, Cassandra is out on the streets of Gotham. She's chosen a place she believes will be quiet - the perfect location to practice quick and stealthy movement through the rooftops, and so it is, until a nearby distress call attracts the attention of a familiar blue-haired superheroine. Things only get messier from there.
|Who=[[Batman]], [[Cassandra Cain]], [[Ember]]
|Date=2012-16-02
|Where=Financial District, Gotham City
|}}


Very few important things occur in Gotham's financial distract at this hour. The office lights are predominantly dead, only the repetitive blink-blink of security systems hinting at the high-pressure hustle and bustle that will consume the towering blocks throughout the day. Even the streets are relatively silent, a few cars passing through; pedestrians all but non-existent, except for people like Cassandra Cain...

Or rather, people like she /was/. No longer a vagrant, she's transitioned from the sodden sidewalks to the rain-slick rooftops. Gone are her unflattering, dirty garments - and even that oversized coat. In their place she wears a sort of hotch-potch ninja garb, a short-sleeved catsuit augmented with straps, shinguards, lightweight pauldrons and... a utility belt, pouches carefully filled with an unseen variety of devices.

Her feet, clad in oiled leather, make a soft pitter-patter scarcely heavier than the sheeting raindrops as she makes her agile way across the tops of this area's lofty skyscrapers. Her breathing is held deep and level, causing the scarf wrapping the lower half of her face to inflate and deflate in rhythm. Her dark eyes are intent on the roof's end as she travels, veering around and hopping over venting hatches and aerials.

When she reaches the other side, a hand flies to her waist and comes up bearing a pistol. The trigger is pulled, emitting a snapping hiss as a metal-capped cord unwinds in coiling loops, bearing with blinding speed for the next mighty 'scraper. She leaps before the connection is made, left arm thrust behind her to balance the still-raised right, legs wide and immobile for an instant-- and then she's soaring like an eagle.

She hits the edge of the next building, already starting to climb, suppressing a grimace as the impact sends a tremor through her body; trying to ignore the pain in her chest, upon her ribcage where a bullet wound lies covered and bandaged. This isn't what she should be worrying about. Within the very building she's climbing, a trio of men stalk around a room lit only by dim lamps. Two bear guns, the other remains conspicuously between them as he chatters inanely, nervous, twisting one hand around the opposing wrist. In the other he holds an emergency transmitter, currently sending out an alarm that - under normal circumstance - would be putting out an all-points bulletin on the police network. Sadly for Mr. Gibraldi, it isn't. Because it's been rewired.

A scrambled, nonsensical signal fires off into the atmosphere as Cassandra climbs, unawares.

She's also unaware that, from a window on the next building along, the barrel of a high-calibre sniper rifle emerges to take a slow bearing on Mr. Gibraldi. It's entirely invisible from street-level. Anyone higher might get a glimpse... of course, those with sufficient technology could also pick up that signal, and trace it. It leads right back to this very building, and even to the man himself.

He's on the roster of protected individuals, because Mr. Gibraldi is worth millions. Billions, even.

What a shame he's about to die.


Ember has been slowly adapting to this strange new world she's in. She was alive, well and not so alone anymore. Still thoughts went back to her own world, there were fewer and fewer left the longer time went on, to protect it. No that there was much left they could do. Still every person the few heroes left could save was still a small victory against those who terrorized the world. The lost magus only thinks on that once and a while these days, she's kept busy helping with smaller things. Letting more powerful sorts be freed up for bigger things, it's not a problem to her however. A certain Martian had sent her to patrol Gotham, prehaps Bats was busy, or there was just too much in one night for even Bats to handle either way she's now in the city, airborn and having already left a group of would be muggers in the hands of some rather jerkish cop named Bullock she's headed on her way. When she gets a call over the comm about the signal. 

< I'm on it. > 

The Magus is airbone and now is heading for the source of the signal, the sniper would likely see the airborn super hero. She doesn't spot the sniper just yet, she does spot the ninja however. Given how this world is? Someone sulking about the source of a singal like that, looking like that? Totally an assassin right? So Cass might pick up something dropping towards her from above. Still she is checking around that ninja might not be alone. Either as she swoops in on the ninja. 

"Hey you!" Prehaps she might get the sniper's attention however as she's not doing much to hide her self.


"I don't need your /opinion/, Tony!" Mr. Gibraldi finally slips over the edge he's been inching toward for hours now, having received an anonymous tip regarding his imminent assassination. An e-mail arrived, encrypted via protocols used only by his offshore trading company, bearing a simple warning; and an image. A fearsome wolf's head enclosed within a circle. It doesn't mean much to him, but that only makes it scarier.

"I need a goddamn hero, okay! That's what I need. And what do I have? Meatheaded idiots like you two." The large, dark-suited target of his rage takes a half-step back, shaking his head and looking back toward the nearest window, scanning it with rattled caution. A hand fumbles for the safety on his handgun, checking for the twentieth or thirtieth time that it remains off. He might need to open fire in a hurry.

Meanwhile, the businessman receives his desire, albeit not in the form he might expect. Ember's dive carries her just out of Cassandra's visual range, at least for a moment - Cassie's eyes slip alternately left and right as she climbs, taking in her peripherals. She doesn't expect to encounter anyone, having chosen this spot for precisely that reason. But it's Gotham. You don't sleep on the city streets for several years without learning how unpredictable and dangerous it can be. Which is why she doesn't jump when the cry rings out, doesn't start climbing faster even. No. She swings out to her left, tilting as she makes a deft hop.

Beneath the mask, she releases a relieved breath, fingertips sliding out of a pouch at her waist.

And then the mysterious ninja reaches up to pull her mask down, feet set on the wall and motionless as she reaches for one of her so-rare smiles, directing it up through the drizzle toward the other girl. She's hoping she's at least somewhat recognizable; but she knows not everyone's so quick-sighted as she, so she leaves her hands as visible as she can - considering she needs to maintain a grasp on the rope. She's harmless, a friend.

Although, like Ember assumes, she's totally an assassin. One of the world's deadliest.


Ember just knows that something's up right now, and she's uncertain of the details but there clearly is a ninja here and likelyc ould be the assassin. Her radar is not totally off at least. She does however, she pauses for a moment. Wait was that the girl she was with when she ran into the Jester's nightmarish twin? It clearly is what is Pusher Girl doing here. She's got to wonder that. That can't be the problem is it if it is that strange girl. Why would she help her then go try to kill someone else. At least that's how she sees it. She now looks at the ninja ya it is her and she makes a gesture of what's up now? She then starts looking if her friend isn't causing problems then where's the source of the alarm...


Cassandra's jovial expression doesn't last long, fading to one of puzzlement and then concern as she observes the young homo-magi's reactions. They draw the same conclusion, in utterly different ways; something is indeed wrong. Ember's questioning gesture is returned with a single-shouldered shrug as the former drifter looks around, peering around the frame she's lodged against, into the plate glass of the skyscraper. It's not clearly visible from more than a few feet away, but she makes out Gibraldi and his bodyguards--

Right before a shot rings out. In the still of the night, a round fired from a gun that powerful can't be missed. A yell echoes from inside the building, where the bullet has missed its mark, instead finding a bank of servers against the far wall. Mr. Gibraldi is huddled beneath a desk, sweating and cursing as his guards take position on the other side. It's in that moment that fires break out, spreading quick and fierce.

Fire alarms are due a beat later. The sprinkler system goes off. It all happens in moments.

Wide hazel eyes find Ember's through the downpour - and even if Cassandra were the talkative type, there's be no time for anything more than a barked command - because they need to move. Her mouth draws to a line, her hand motions toward the window behind her, and then she's off in a flash, scaling up the building. Twelve feet are covered rapidly before she /leaps/, both legs propelling her powerfully, her grapnel-rope unwinding until it snaps and drags her back in toward the skyscraper. Glass shatters instantly.

Cass lands in a roll, separated from the quarry and his men by an open door, leaving the rope trailing behind her as she darts her gaze around rapidly. Another shout echoes from within, the second man, black and very muscular, finding her and quickly drawing a bead with his semi-automatic. That happens in another moment.

In the next building along, invisible to all concerned, the sniper is reloading.


Now wasn't the time for talking No it wasn't at all the time for talking as the rain comes down, her own green eyes lock with Cass' for a moment before she now starts to seek out the sound of a gun fireing. AS Cass heads on she knows one shot came from the outside. She's got to find the gunman, prehaps she wll she now seeks out looking she heard the shot and is trying to track it back to it's point of origin.


Ember's efforts will be swiftly rewarded as the gunman returns to the window, ready to draw aim again. He's not that quick in doing so - and given his near-miss upon Gibraldi, this might indicate a general lack of competence on the assassin's behalf. It may take her a moment or three to locate him though, clad in black and situated in a building about a hundred yards from the outer edge of the target skyscraper. As she draws near, she'll probably notice not so much the man himself, as an apparent ally one floor up. NOT clad in black.

And not carrying a sniper rifle either. The thick, heavy muzzle of a knockoff pray n' spray is thrust from the one lit window in the building, a savage grin showing on the balaclava-clad face behind it. A half-second later, the thumping rat-a-tat of submachine-gun fire lights up the night. Bullets light the air around Ember.

Cassandra has her own, rather similar problem as the handgun trained upon her expels three bullets in fast succession. The blaze of her eyes is the last thing her own assailant sees, before with a swish of ebon scarf she's simply gone; streaming away from the field of fire and blurring through the room as she strafes from wall-to-wall, ending up before the open door. One more bullet finds the air before she launches herself upward, legs spread against the frame below, back planted against the plasterboard.

"Sonuva..." The black man's hands are shaking as he stalks forward, either too focused or too rattled to notice the slowly spreading fire in the corner of the room. The sprinklers aren't able to stop it; the flame is of electrical origin, water simply sizzling and popping where it strikes, providing the oxygen required to further fan the blaze. It's likely to consume the room within a few minutes.


Ember has spotted the figure in the window as he's attempting to line up another shot. Ember is not intending to give the man a chance to fire, she focuses her powers, and seems to shimmer with shadows as she lets lose her own powers upon herself. She then makes for building, while moving in a zig zag pattern to prevent her being so easily shot. She is not sure how many of them are in there, but she keeps moving in. The back up however is armed with some sort of weapon and she's comming under fire, she dodges some odf the shots, another it defelcted by her armor but she's also hit and grazed at least on that burst. She tries to ignore the pain and fire a bolt of flames at the guy, not intending to kill him but certainly enough force from the dark flames to ruin his day.


"Come out where I can see you! Put your hands up and we'll end this. Nobody has to die."

Mr. Gibraldi's man keeps advancing as he speaks, finger shuddering on the trigger, his gun the slightest squeeze from firing. From her perch atop the doorframe, Cassandra draws a slow, shallow inbreath, holding it once it's in. The resulting silence lets her hear each footfall perfectly even over the spitting spread of flame inside, even over the businessman's sobs from beneath his desk. Across the room, the other bodyguard is leaning out of the window near the sniper's side-- near Ember's side...

"Shit," he suddenly hisses, the dispassion in his tone resulting through utter astonishment as he watches the metahuman's burst of return fire (pun intended) explode against the next building along. The hail of gunfire stops immediately, a high shriek taking over, his dark clothing ignited and skin rapidly scalding beneath. Hitting the floor, he drops his gun, which lets off an erratic burst, serving as additional warning for his murderous comrades on the level below.

The sniper himself has withdrawn, ducking back into the shadows, where the other two men await with their own weapons drawn - one, the 'muscle' by his size, unsheathing a heavy combat knife and swinging open the rear door. The building is otherwise abandoned, an office for rent full of corridors lit dimly only by the occasional economy lightbulb; part of the backup system restored by the assassins to aid in their night's work. "Let's get the hell out of here. Gibraldia's gonna die in that blaze - there's no way, we saw to that. What's he gonna do? Jump out the frackin' window?"

His companion, armed with a shorn-off shotgun - a thug's weapon if ever there was - nods grimly and steps to the door. Serving as a pointman, armed with the perfect brutal weapon to see them through any resistance in the narrow corridors. But who would possibly offer any? What does anybody plan for in Gotham?


The naked face of Gotham's night holds more stories than most cities could even make up. The crooked, marked man. The armed, quietly terrified men around him. The markers of other corruption that burn in the spreading heat. The Batman watches it light up the night. From across the street, above the sniper; above his cover. Ember won't even glimpse him, if the Dark Knight has his way. He slips like a spectre to the reverse side of the structure and drops, at some point affixing a batline to the apex of his drop. He lands silent against the outer window of an abandoned office, and swifly manipulates the lock open, slipping in just as soundlessly. The loudest part of the Detective's arrival is the window -clck-ing back shut behind him, before Batman is out and into the halls between officespace, rapidly moving to intersect the predictable retreat of the pressed thugs. 

They move into the shadows; they seek solace in the dark. They actually almost walk right past the Dark Knight, in their haste and attention on the wrong details. The still, black-clad ninja against the wall doesn't even draw notice, until the pointman's shotgun goes off; into the ceiling. The heavy stock and barrel is parallel against - and sort of /into/ the killer's face, his hand twisted nastily, possibly broken, in the grip where it drags down the trigger uselessly, spending the weapon entirely until the unlikely event it's reloaded. The cape flutters, the Batman ascends, gone in a flourish of motion as he presses himself ceilingward, lost in the dark before any of the assassins even get a good /look/. Yes, they have numbers. Not nearly enough numbers. A batarang blinking with a single, blue LED whips through the air with the quietest whoosh at the back of the large, knife-wielding man's head.

"What the /FUCK/?" one thug helpfully inquires. The point man just screams, and clutches at his hand and face. He's probably having trouble seeing due to pain and shock. Most people aren't used to this shit.


Ember isn't out to kill, that's the hardest thing to worry about with her powers. She tends to use less than perhaps she should due to it, but none the less she's got one handled, however the sniper is hiding into the shadows. Fine she's going to try to get in and the dark works for her it works very well she'll try to make her way in and just fade into the shadows as she'll stalk the two thugs. 

Whelp there goes that plan as it seems someone else has showen up, Batman may indeed be the night, but she does make use of her own abilities to ambush the one asking what's going on. Who'd get an armored fist to the fast. 

"Game over."


"I /told/ you to come out!"

The bodyguard's tone is becoming less stable as he approaches the doorway, shaken by the events of the evening and by the strange, disappearing ninja he's trying to reach. Cassie remains motionless and inaudible, not shifting one tiny inch until the barrel of his pistol begins to peek through the portal below. In that instant, her dark eyes narrow to slits, and then she moves, a decade and a half of relentless conditioning propelling her away from the wall; seeing her twist like an acrobat, then thrust her legs out simultaneously, taking the massive man in the chin with both bootheels.

-crack-

Across the street, the more experienced vigilante's batarang collides with oxlike cranium. A startled, enraged grunt becomes a roar as the handy-dandy gadget releases an electric current directly into the knifeman's skull. With his brain partway scrambled, his first reaction is to run facefirst into the wall, stumbling and staggering to right himself in the correct direction before he charges again - this time at the Batman.

It's the first time he's had his lumpen, scarred visage facing the Dark Knight; who should have ample time to notice, during the approach, that the hired muscle wears a set of infrared goggles over his beady eyes. He's snarling as he leaps, making a wild but potentially eviscerating slash up into the darkness. Whoever these amateurs are, they've clearly been armed by someone with resources to spare. That also explains the sniper rifle, aimed down the corridor toward the resulting melee. The scope's useless at such range, of course...

But these men are reckless, hardly afraid to shoot from the hip. He pulls the trigger.

-crack-

Cassandra hits the floor in a crouch as her poor victim is thrown backward, gun flying from his hands as all two hundred pounds of his honed physique impacts the carpet. Gibraldi lets out an unstifled yell of, "Oh god!" The desk he's hiding beneath suddenly topples as he kicks back against it, both arms wrapping around his balding head, body lost to the quivering terror of a man who knows he's seconds from dying.

But the raven-haired girl is already moving past him, a black blur as she swoops through the dimly-lit office, upon the businessman's second line of defense in the instant before he can level his own shaking gun-arm. The sad vibration of his semi-automatic becomes a sharp clatter as she raises a leg, toe catching the barrel just as the trigger is pulled. A shot rings out, leaving an ugly hole in the ceiling; and then there's a second sharp impact as she swiftly swaps legs, planting that foot to sweep high with the other.

He's down with a bloody nose immediately, struggling not to vomit as Cass kicks his weapon away.

"No," she says; in somebody else's voice.

-crack-

That one's all Ember's, as her gauntlet finds the face of Batman's second assailant, coming hot on the tail of his desperate high-calibre round. He releases a stream of saliva as his head snaps to one side, the rifle tumbling from his grip as he goes down to his knees, barely catching himself on one arm to avoid collapsing completely. But it seems he can take a punch, at least, and he's in motion immediately.

"Didn't they tell you," he grates out past clenched teeth, whipping himself around, a heavy boot snapping out to try and take the homo-magus in the shin. "It's no game, kid! This is /life and death/." Grinning savagely, he goes scrabbling for his gun - it may be expended, but it makes a damn fine club. "This is the League of Assassins, you dumb bitch!!" Well, at least that part was easy.


The sniper's return fire was one reason why Batman hauled himself up into the shadows of the ceiling. It's still a good reason to fend off that angry, disoriented slashing with his cape. The blade's impact still stings, may bruise, but it doesn't cut the fabric of the Dark Knight's own portable shadow. It also allows the assailaint to press the attack, to rush in nice and close, as the Batman crouches back against the doorjam, supporting himself above with one hand... the round fires off, and so does the Bat. In the seconds between shots, less if he has the right rifle; Batman makes it count. He springs off the wall nearly parallel with the ceiling, snapping the large man's hair in his previously defending gauntlet. At his velocity, the towering thug's head is sent lurching painfully back, before a wad of his hair comes ripping out rather audibly.

The things he says. "Would have been easier on you if you'd just stayed down." Most men don't keep coming after a taser to the neck. This guy's special, but not in the right ways for the situation he's in. The Dark Knight can already see Ember's got his last friend in the world taken care of, and besides that... size isn't everything. In his moment of doubt and pain the Batman strikes, lunging in almost singular motion to drive a forearm and elbow into the again-charging man's midsection, all his weight and momentum betraying him as his ribcage visibly shifts and reseats, utterly jarred. The staggered mountain of a malcontent mauls the drywall as he rebounds off it with a resounding crash, and falls groaning in the hallway.

There's only a brief nod to Ember, now. He restrains the three men quicky, then the Dark Knight moves past her to the sniper's perch, batgrapple already in his hand, sounding out the hiss off a compressed line an instant later. They're not done here, as far as he knows.


Ember says, "You know I'm kinda of hungry." She gets a rather not nice grin on the guy's face now, however they seem to be handled at this point. Bats can get the gunman as she stares down the last one, dark energy shimmers bout her hand. He comes in at her with it like a club she'll attempt to weave out of the way then black tendrils will come out of her hand trying to latch onto the man and start to drain him. It won't kill him but he'll get weaker and weaker should she be able to get ahold of him. To the point he'd not be able to stand. 

"An Assassin should be well informed about their target, you are not."


"Me too, precious," replies Ember's sneering assailant as she ducks aside from his clumsy blow. Shifting grip on the rifle butt, he steps in closer, lasciviously rolling a fat tongue over his lips. "How about you n' me get-- hngh!" His ill-judged threat dies at conception, black tendrils coursing over his body as he attempts to stumble forward in weak-willed desperation. Equipped these men may be, but they're not trained for this.

They're barely trained at all. He's on his knees in seconds, clawing at the ground as though he means to drag himself toward Ember, as though he might do any good if he can reach her. His grip on the rifle is already failing, quivering fingers trailing it across the floor beside him, and then with one last snarl he stills. Batman is free to restrain him and his partners; though he might note as he does that the larger has some seriously bulging veins on him. Not healthy, that. Probably not /natural/.

Meanwhile, the Bat's odd little protege doesn't hang around, leaving the cowed men to their own devices; unarmed, she's sure they can be no threat. If they've got sense, they should realize by now she's not here to murder. If she'd had any such design she could have taken out all three of them. It seems to have sunk in.

Our would-be victim is a slightly different matter. He's deep in confusion, irrational and scared.

Naturally, Cassandra's the last person he wants to interact with right now; but he's malleable in his fear. Breathing a sigh behind her ebon scarf, she reaches down to haul him by shoulder and wrist, directing a pair of quick, cautious glares to his downed men before she pulls Gibraldi through the room. The smell in the office is acrid now; the flames coating a third of the floor and still sizzling away under the patter of the sprinklers. It's not the kind of blaze that's going to be extinguished, and that's why they have to move.

Once she reaches the next room, the raven-haired girl directs her 'captive' to one side. Moving fast though keeping her motions exact, not rushing the process - keeping her head - she steps to the rope already trailing from the roof. The street below is too far to take the man with her; she's got a lot in that utility belt, just not the two hundred plus feet she'd require to safely lower him. But the alarms are going off.

That means fire service, it means /police/. And the building has a helipad.

By the time Batman and Ember should arrive, she's removed the belts around her waist and thighs, adjusting them appropriately to fashion a makeshift harness. Being of the Dark Knight's own design, they're naturally strong enough to bear the average adult male. The trick is going to be getting Mr. Gibraldi into it...

"D-Don't kill me," he stammers, throwing up his hands as she reaches to pull him toward her. Frowning, Cassandra steps back, puts up her own arms and repeats what she told his bodyguards, "No." Although it's kinder this time, only as much as she can make it with her painfully limited vocal chords. An adamant shake of her head makes it clearer, coupled with a gesture toward the harness. He doesn't look very reassured.


The bulging, suped up shithead does give the Batman pause. He takes a few moments to stoop by the thug and take a blood sample from the man's neck, with a little black self-contained unit that looks made for just that purpose. A theory that would be confirmed by its insertion into a compartment in the Dark Knight's belt that's half of a very miniaturized biology lab.

The Dark Knight arrives at the burning building through Mr. Gibraldi's office window, crashing inward and landing in a roll amid a shower of glass and splintering wood. It's not the quietest entry of the night, but it's certainly efficient. From Ember's vantage point the view is less abrupt, Batman all but sailing on spread cape across the distance between buildings, accelerating rapidly on a powerful retracting grapple line towards that window. Microgrenades are already in his hands as he comes up, cape raised to shield his face from the worst of the smoke. They're tossed with alarming precision into central hotspots of the encroaching blaze, flame-retardant foam erupting voluminously in all directions. 

To all appearances, it practically eats the fried servers like some kind of grotesque sci-fi b-horror monster. There's always the chance there's data to preserve, for one thing. "Who hired them to kill you? Be more useful to me than /barbecue/." Never mind that he'd never let the fire consume the building, much less any of them, if he can stop it. At least slow it down for the fire department. The Dark Knight isn't immediately violently hostile. He's actually pretty calm, at a glance. Come at him brah.


Ember looks at him as she drains him she looks down at him as she stops short of harming him long term. "As I was saying. Your in over your head and I'm not much to write home about really." The wound on her leg however visbaly is mending itself, as she puts to use the drained energy. She letsout a breath and makes sure they are out of business. He looks at him for a moment as he keeps a look at the guy. She keeps draining and she says, "I'd not get up if I were you, be smart stay down. Do you want to really see what else I can do? Even if you stop me, Batman's here and do you really think you could /escape/ him in that condtion." She wonders about those Viens and that worries her something ain't right here.


It's not a subtle entrance, and one doesn't need cunning ninja senses to detect it.

Doesn't matter; what matters is that Cassandra Cain is no longer the last one standing.

The helpless CEO isn't cooperating - and Cassie knows there's no time for this. It's a moment in which many would be cursing, at least inwardly, but she allows the pressure only to further focus her. Moving like brutal silk she darts forward, easily twisting Gibraldi around and slipping him in a half-nelson. The other arm reaches for the harness and slips it around his neck, a little grappling trickery getting both his upper limbs esconced firmly before she turns him back around and shoves him through the already-shattered window.

His scream is blood-curdling, but it doesn't last long.

-click-

At a touch of the small device upon her belt, the bat-grapnel's release mechanism is triggered. The businessman is suddenly hauled breathlessly up the sheer, sleek outside of his company's vast skyscraper. He'll hit the top in a moment, though he'll be left hanging and caught in that harness until help arrives. Fortunately, his non-vocal saviour just happened to slap a beacon flare onto the back of his jacket before sending him up - it's going to be uncomfortably warm for a couple of minutes, but it should tell the arriving police helicopter precisely where he is. She just hopes the assassins were already dealt with...

And that's what she finds out a second later, darting against the doorframe and then plunging into the office beyond as Batman's capsules begin to do their work. Her guard is raised, and she's ready to leap into an evasive dive when she stops /dead/. A blink of her eyes expresses her mute astonishment as her gaze settles on the Dark Knight himself, hovering over her 'collateral damage'.

Yeah; she can probably assume the threat has been handled.

"Nngh," says Mr. Damage, trying to avert his eyes from the Bat without success, "Goddamn Batman, huh? And two minutes ago I figured I was a dead man. I can't tell you jack-shit, tall, dark and ugly. Boss got an e-mail this afternoon; /anonymous tip/, y'get me? Implied he should pick himself a suitable headstone. No name, no information, just an image attachment. Some weird animal head in a circle or somethin'. All I know, I s-" suddenly he's coughing, talking too fast and inhaling a lungful of residual smoke, "S-Swear, m-man."


"Better hope the police get a sketch, one more specific on the animal, and the /exact/ shape." If he gets the time to tell the story. By the Dark Knight's sudden motions, he means to throw him to his death. In a flurry of leveraged force, the Bat bounces the bodyguard off the wall and flips him out the window, earning a scream before bound legs support him dangling there waiting for the arriving police, as well. 

Batman blasts aside the foam into more lingering flames with a small cannister of compressed air. Clearing some off the equipment, he stoops to pry open a server, "Source of the fire? All probably fried." Alas. He doesn't share Cassandra's shock at seeing him here, obviously. "Building this size'll have at least server room or two. I'm going to find where the network traffic comes in." A palmtop computer much like the one given to Ms. Cain is flipped open, the Dark Knight following the power drain, eyes on the walls, floors, ceilings. He works quickly, before the authorities finish closing off the scene and moving in.


Ember sees the guys are handled at this point. She makes sure they are secured but well? She looks at the guy for a moment "What the heck was that?" She's not sure she wants to know but she really wonders at some point once making it secure she needs to go find Pusher, and wonders just what she's doing here. She knows Bats is here to do his thing but Cass is a odd questionf for her. Either way she's going to go find her and see what she can do. She makes sure the hitmen are still secure and then she's on her way.


When the Dark Knight turns his eye to his ward, he'll see a girl much more concerned than she should be at the action he just took; she looks as close to mortified as somebody with dulled emotions could, her mouth faintly open, brow furrowed and eyes rather unnaturally widened. She's frozen for several moments before he turns toward his work, when she draws a quick breath and straightens up, reaching with one hand to push back her messy black bangs. There's little more for her to do, now; so she busies herself with the other man, hauling him from his consciousless pose on the floor to prop him against the interior wall.

Before Ember arrives, Cassandra is up and moving about the room, checking over the fallen desk. A quick rifling turns up a stack of papers - which she's about to bypass, unable to make any sense of what's on them, when a single page is dislodged from what was the output tray on Gibraldi's printer. It flutters to the floor, revealing a stylized wolf's head set against a solid black moon. Her eyes glaze, and she bites on her lip.

Which is when the homo-magus suddenly appears. Cass takes a sudden step back, uttering an uncharacteristic gasp, hands lifting with martial intent before her senses run a double-take. Seeing Ember, she settles, lowering her arms and sparing a fleeting smile for the girl as she steps forward and retrieves the page. She doesn't look further at it, pressing it against her chest as though to keep it hidden. Then she bows her head, slowly, conveying thanks as she keeps her hazel eyes firmly fixed on Ember's green.

Then she does the most surprising thing, for someone who's not heard her speak.

"Cassandra," she offers with halting care. So much for 'Pusher Girl'.


He'll be pliant, glad to help the police. Glad to turn on his corrupt boss. Glad to give all the leverage they need. Perhaps, if he's helpful an frank enough? The Batman will even help him out, down the line. Here, now? The revelations necessary to crack who's equipping assassins with military-grade hardware to hit the white collars in his town need to be unearthed. Fast.

The Dark Knight is gone for several long minutes, locating the servers, breaking into the room without leaving evidence he's done it, and dumping the system's logs and data to a series of small black thumbdrives. There's only so fast these things go. The perimeter around the building is set up, men are already moving into place to retrieve the fellow up near the roof, trying very hard not to wriggle by the time the Batman moves back into the room, scanning from Cassandra to Ember. "We should move. There'll be more answers soon." Gordon's men will do their pass on the evidence while Batman looks for more... then does his own.


Ember looks at Cass grins a little bit and oddly while her gear shows the breach from where she got tagged with the bullet? There's not damage there save some red flesh the sort you see on wound that's almost healed. She grins says, "Good to meet you Cassander and better than the nick name I had for you." She looks a little amused before she takes a glance about. "Hopefully that's everything..." 

How does Bats show up like that so far as she knows he's got no 'unatural powers' the level of his skill clearly more than makes up for it. "Understood we shouldn't get in the cops way, also do you know a Officer named Bullock? I dropped some hoods off to him eariler and he seemed to be in an foul mood about my delivery." She notes before she moves to follow.


Giving one's name... it's a risk at any point, but it seemed appropriate here. They've each made a save for one another-- and the other girl seems lost, like she was, and still partly is. Forced to run from something, she thinks, or trying to run /to/ something. It's hard to be entirely sure. There's a well-meaning air to the metahuman that she hopes now won't translate into freely sharing a name given in confidence. Perhaps she can afford one last extension of trust; twice in one week probably won't kill her.

Brushing her thoughts aside, Cassandra offers one last nod to Ember before she slips in beside the Batman, making toward the broken window. A hand slips to her waist, unhooking a grapnel-gun much like the one she's left up on the roof. She purloined a matched pair from the Batcave; because you never know when you'll need to make a second getaway. She's taking aim when Ember addresses her second question, and holds fire for a moment, glancing up toward the Dark Knight. They have to disappear - and go their separate ways, naturally - but she'll wait for his cue before she disappears into the rain-slick night.


The Batman considers Ember for a moment. He still hasn't managed to track down her evil counterpart, and she seems prone to seeking out trouble of other sorts regardless. It's hard to read the stoic chiseled face behind and beneath the cowl, and the Batman offers only a deadpanned, "Ask Detective Bullock about the incident with the school bus." It's probably not a good idea.

There's a nod to Cassandra, and then the Dark Knight is out the window, in freefall; air rushes past his cape, spread in shadowy bat-themed parachute, the dangling men getting an impromptu encore as the Detective descends. His own grapnel doesn't even appear until halfway to the street, used to arc his landing over the police cordon, tumbling back to his feet as the batmobile rolls up purring, the sleek black armored hybrid of a supercar and APC already making way for the Batman via sliding canopy as he tucks away his grapple gun.