Difference between revisions of "2012-02-17 - The Mark"
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| − | 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 | + | 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. | 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. | ||
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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. | 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. | 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. | ||
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But these men are reckless, hardly afraid to shoot from the hip. He pulls the trigger. | 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. | 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. | ||
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"No," she says; in somebody else's voice. | "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. | 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. | ||
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His scream is blood-curdling, but it doesn't last long. | 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... | 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... | ||
