Gotham: Year One

[industrious]

The Smiler

Longarms are next to useless up close. Especially sniper rifles.

The Smiler attempts to parry the blade with the butt of his weapon, but he only succeeds in redircting the attack from his chest to his left shoulder; the blade easily slips in one side of the hitman's body and out the other. His muscles spasm; he drops the rifle.

Spoiler

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Current Status: Injured(1), and Stunned.

Crimson Avenger's turn.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Crimson Avenger

The Crimson Avenger smiled beneath her scarf. At last, we have the advantage. Keep it up. She kicked the rifle away, hoping to send it skittering over the edge of the catwalk. Her right hand grabbed at the man's wounded left shoulder, bearing down hard on it to keep him distracted. She then feinted a body blow and swiveled into an uppercut into the grinning assassin's jaw.

[industrious]

The Smiler

It's a good hit. One can see the blood filling the Smiler's mouth. But somewhere along the line, someone taught him how to take a punch.

He's bruised; injured, certainly, and dizzy from blood loss, but he's not nearly down for the count.

Spoiler

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Status: Injured(1), Bruised(1), Stunned
Terron's Turn

[Terron]

Luigi hearing the sound of hand to hand combat goes out of cover, sprints until he has a clear shot, and pulls the trigger of his crossbow, aiming the bolt to the Smiler's midsection. "For the old times ...amici."

[industrious]

The Smiler

Unfortunately, the Smiler is too obscured by those in melee with him for Luigi to get a good shot in. His bolt barely grazes the Smiler's side, leaving a shallow cut that fails to do little more than make the Smiler wince.

Spoiler

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Status: Injured(1), Bruised(1), Stunned
Sophistemon's turn

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

Combat is, by the nature of its unquantifiable variables, a chaotic enterprise. The most brilliant of strategists are those who are able, somewhat, to foresee the most likely outcomes and then act accordingly so as to arrange the battle in their favor. Ultimately, however, even the best laid plans collapse upon the moment of contact, shattered by the violence that unfolds, washed away by the adrenaline that surges through the veins of the combatants. Someday it may be possible to avoid this pitfall through the use of robotic or otherwise modified human warriors. But when that day comes, when the stratagems of brilliant men unfold with perfection upon the battlefield and confrontations are won by noncombatants who sit comfortably thousands of miles away...

Will it be half as exhilarating?

Lock-Up circles the Smiler like a shark, searching for an opening in the mobster's position. He would love to slug the murderous creep in the kidney, have him pissing blood for a week, but it's probably better to knock him out quickly, get him away from the warehouse and into a nice, warm, cozy cell in the Slammer. He raises his nightstick and brings it down on the crown of the Smiler's head - not hard enough to kill, that would go against the intent - but certainly hard enough to rattle his brains a little and maybe send him under.

But combat is chaotic, so we'll see what happens when the club comes down.

[industrious]

The Smiler

He's dizzy from the pounding he's been taking, as well as the blood loss, but the hitman still manages to get an arm between the Bolton's elbow and the club; a brief jab at a specific point makes the resulting blow far less powerful than it should have been; it would bruise faintly in the morning, but really, nothing more.

Spoiler

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Status: Injured(1), Bruised(1), Stunned

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

Combat, as has been mentioned, is a most wholly unpredictable thing. Who could have foreseen that Lyle's arcing overhead blow would have made successful contact with the crown of the Smiler's head, only to have been rendered all but harmless by a brief blow to one of the vigilante's exposed pressure-points? And who would have dared put money on the odds that, after having had his assault deflected, Lock-Up would have dodged backwards a half-step, recovered his momentum and then surged forwards again, swinging the nightstick along a horizontal plane so that it slammed, with terrible (although, of course, nonlethal) force, into the tender temple of his slippery foe?

[industrious]

The Smiler


Who could have expected it? Certainly not the Smiler, who, in his weakened condition, was powerless to stop the blow.

Lock-Up's club connects soundly with the hitman's temple, sending the man staggering backward; his body goes limp as a result of the impact.

So terrible is the blow that the Smiler's legs give out, and he leans backwards, against the railings of the warehouse. So terrible is the blow, and the damage to the hitman's head that he is disoriented; he leans too far; the railing, instead of stopping him, acts as a pivot point. For a precarious second, he balances perfectly on the rail, head one way, feet the other.

But gravity and momentum gently nudge him along, and the Smiler falls, falls down into the pit of drugs, arms flailing uselessly for a handhold, for some way to break the fall. He tries to grab the railing, tries to grab the edge of the catwalk. He fails.

The wind has been knocked out of his lungs, so he falls silently, his face contorted in a silent scream. He hits the container, begins to sink, gasping for air all the while.

"Ha...."

"Ha..."

"Ha..."

His face is covered by the churning chemicals, and the Smiler is seen no more.

[Terron]

"Buono picchiare amici..." comments Luigi to Lock-up, as he peeks to the vats of drug where the Smilier is now swimming

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

"Hell." Katherine says, and collapses against the nearest stable surface - which happens to be the railing. For a moment she teeters an it seems she's going to follow on and fall to the floor, but she just manages to right herself. "Need help." She gasps. There are tears of pain in her eyes. "Jesus Christ my leg hurts."

The cop looks down at where the Smiler has fallen, and tries not to think of the last look on the man's face, or those echoing feeble gasps of laughter. How much evidence had gone down with that man? That was almost the worst thing.

She fumbles down for her swordcane and grabs it. She's dropped the sheath god-knows-where, and it's pretty useless for anything other than poking people with it, but it makes her feel better. She looks at the two ex-combatants standing near her, and snarls at them. The pain in her leg is even worse than before, and she's pretty sure she's snapped or broken something, from the way it's trembling and refusing to support its own weight. "Come on!" She snaps. "Let's go and find out what Crane is doing. And who the hell are you anyway?" Another stab of pain makes her bend almost double, and she only just keeps her hand steady on the railing. "Jesus ****ing Christ." She gasps.

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

He lunges forward, desperate to have the Smiler for his collection, but when the man falls over the railing and plunges silently into the vat, Bolton makes no effort to rescue. When the assassin laughs his last and sinks beneath the surface of the chemical maelstrom, Bolton actually nods his head, approvingly. He could only device a few punishments as seemingly horrible as drowning in a churning vat of steaming drugs, and all were equally lethal. This was a death, at least, in which justice was served. Still, similar thoughts go through his mind as do Katherine's: any information that they might had dragged out of the Smiler was now lost to them forever, provided that they didn't find another source. Speaking of the injured policewoman...

Bolton takes a step towards her and extends a hand so that she can rest some of her weight off of her damaged leg. "Here," he says. "We'll pay... Crane? You said? We'll pay him a visit and then get you to a hospital." As he waits for her to accept his offer of help, he offers her a small grin from beneath his mask.

"They call me Lock-Up."

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Crimson Avenger

The Crimson Avenger freezes as she watches The Smiler topple into the vat of drugs. He'll die if nobody helps him! Nothing that can be done. That stuff is pure poison - he's already dead. Something about his eyes unnerved her - through his half-screams and half-insane laughter, she saw no fear of death in his eyes. That was the worst of it - there was nothing in those eyes but acceptance of the void.

She sees the policewoman teetering on the railing, and that snaps her back into action. "Be careful, officer. Gotham can't afford to lose any more of its finest." She offers the policewoman a hand to right herself, and assistance walking if she accepted it.

"Who am I, Lieutenant Walker?", the Avenger replied as they headed towards the office, noticing her badge and rank for the first time. "Call me a concerned citizen. Gotham's always been a hard town, even before the Wayne murders. But someone has to stand up and draw a line in the sand. Someone has to be the bloody vengeance of the people it preys upon. That's who I am - a Crimson Avenger. " The Avenger reached into her trenchcoat and withdrew an M1911, eerily similar to the ones issued to the police force. As they advanced towards the office, she watched out for possible attacks from oblique angles - the four of them had been assaulted too many times today, and she would not let another ambush get the better of them.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

"Great. Y'know, I was asking for a name. Are you another pair of freaks or something? There's got to be some sort of fancy dress party around here that I'm missing." Despite her bitter words, Katherine takes Lock-Up's help gratefully - or at least with great relief - and practically drags herself across to the man's shoulder and bears her weight there. There's a sharp intake of breath as she briefly takes her weight away from her good leg to do this, and then it settles and she looks up, her face less obviously pained. She looks down at the vat of steaming chemicals, wondering if a body would float to the fore. She didn't appreciate the way this would scare of all the crooks - just another last way the Smiler would spite her. She sighed. "Who the hell was that guy? And I'm Walker. Lieutenant Walker, if you please." The fact that she spits the title doesn't seem to make her any friendlier.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Crimson Avenger

"I don't know who that was, but he was clearly working for someone who doesn't want change to come to Gotham. Dent's wounded. Badly.

"Who is his accomplice, Lieutenant? You were initially more interested in getting to him than getting to Dent's would-be assassin." At least I hope he's a would-be assassin. That wound looked bad. Like before mother sister gunned down just seven years old survived for what?

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

He considers for a while before smiling even wider. He walks slowly, carefully, so as to cause the injured policewoman no more pain than is necessary. "No," he says. "Not freaks. At least, I don't think so." He looks over at the Crimson Avenger. "Just... people doing some good where good needs to be done." He chuckles, and it's not obscured by his growling false voice. "If it'll make you feel more comfortable, though, I keep a spare mask with me. You know, in case you want to join in."

He looks back to the Crimson Avenger.

"You saw the wound? I was too far away - on a roof. Do you think he'll make it? This city needs a man like Harvey Dent."

[industrious]

The Office

The office is still small, cramped, and badly lit. There have been a few differences, however. The desk that was in the center of the room is now pushed against the window, and where it was previously filled with paperwork, it is now filled with large sacks of (presumably counterfeit) cash.

Professor Crane is a tall, thin man; he looks rather like Ichabod Crane in all that man's depictions. He's furiously scribbling equations in messy-looking script as the group enters. At the sound of the door, he looks at the assorted crew, and he shrinks as far back into the corner as he can.

"You don't understand! I was forced into it!"

Upon further notice, the man's left hand is cuffed to the radiator, and there are scattered remains of various instant meals around him.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

"Do what?" Katherine snaps. Even at the male freak's careful progress, the movement was much to fast for her and she was having to clench her teeth together to stop undignified little yelps of pain escaping from her mouth. It was not a good day. "You've got a lot of convincing to do-" The policewoman broke off to look around the room, and grudgingly admitted, as if it were only a passing circumstance "-though it looks like your alibi's pretty good."

Katherine grunts, and looks at the safe. "Hey, crazy male freak, care to get me up to that safe? I want to have a go at cracking it, unless the scarecrow here has a key?" Another glare, and then back to looking at the safe. "I was here before, and I think there might be something in there."

Katherine is about to urge Bolton further forward, when a thought strikes her. She frowns, and speaks incredulously. "Crimson whatisit? Lock-up? What the hell kind of names are those? Did you two get hit on the head when you were kids or something?""

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

He nods and, moving carefully in the cramped confines of the office, the burly vigilante maneuvers the policewoman over to the safe. He chuckles, again, at her mention of having been struck on the head in his early pre-adolescence. "Maybe," he plays along. "That would explain a few of my career choices." When they reach the safe, Bolton looks over his shoulder at the frantic-eyed skinny man. His grumbling, growling voice never falters. "You. How much do you know about this operation?" And then, back to Katherine: "You were pretty good with that sword cane. I can't remember ever seeing one used before."

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Crimson Avenger

The Avenger was silent for a moment. They might have seen me assist him - can't let them learn who I am, not yet. "Close enough. Before he was pulled away, I could see he was still moving, but just barely. It wasn't a normal round either - I suspect it was an incendiary round. Even if he survives, the damage will be...catastrophic. She was silent again for a moment - Gotham's savior had been struck down. He would either become a cautionary tale against bucking the status quo, or a martyr. Which would he become?

The Avenger entered the office alongside Lock-Up and Lt. Walker. She ignored Lt. Walker's taunt about her nom de guerre - she didn't need justify her actions. She cocked her head quizzically at the rail-thin man, his fear quite evident. "Forced into what? What's going on here?" She tightened her grip on her handcannon, glancing behind her to make sure they still had an egress should one be required. Her attention snapped to the Lieutenant as soon as she mentioned the safe. It can't be. That's not possible. It can't be this safe. Still, her attention was on Lt. Walker, and her attempts to break into the safe in this poison factory.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

The woman gets to the safe and, almost whimpering, takes her hand from Bolton's shoulder and tries to lower her head to the safe's level. There's a yelp as her bad leg bears itself down on the ground, and the cop only manages to keep herself upright via the use of her swordcane as a lever. Placing her head to the safe, she grips it's dial and starts fiddling with it, trying to work out the correct combination through simple sound.

Due to the strange mixture of adrenaline and pain in her system, it's much easier than she'd expected it to be. She's able to simply have part of her brain carry on with that task while the rest focuses on other issues. "Cane was a gift from Cobblepot." She mutters. There was what might've been a click. Sword-cane, I mean. Gave it to me after he had my old team killed." (Click). There's a bit of bitterness, just a bit, ice-cold and dragging anger and fury and resentment underneath it like an iceberg. "Was planning to use it only on him, as my revenge, but figured Dent as mayor would be a good enough vengeance. First time I used it. Felt good." There's satisfaction in her voice.

"And if you're wondering what this whole place was about, it was a drug-manufacturing faculty. I was investigating it. There may be some evidence of that stuff in here. Saw paperwork in here last time I checked. Didn't think much of it at the time, but who the hell hides bloody paperwork?" She pulls her head away from the safe and motions for another pull-up from Bolton, grimacing. "Let's hope this hasn't all been a waste. Good luck, eh?"

With that, she attempts to pull the safe open.

Spoiler

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Spending a Hero point to Take 20 on the disable device roll, for a total of 35. Does it work?

[industrious]

Johnathan Crane

"Well...you see..."

He tries to stand up, to assume a more professorial position, but the handcuffs snap against his wrist and the radiator, and he's jerked to the floor, the chair thrown a few feet away from him.

"Ow..."

"I was contacted by Falcone after Gotham University fired me for a liason with a student. I mean, I'm an award-winning biochemist. But make one mistake, slip up one time, and you're thrown out of academia forever. He offered me a job working with 'experimental chemical compounds.' And for the past several months, he's locked me in this room, and forced me to solve equations relating to diluting various narcotic compounds. Which, while exciting to actually do research again..."

He backs off at that; his enthusiasm for experimentation might be seen as proof that he was willing.

"I wasn't willing, you understand. But you have to learn to cope somehow. The key to the safe is in the desk drawer."

The Office

But it was. The exact same safe that had haunted the two of their dreams. Down to the very last detail.

The safe swings open on well-oiled hinges as the two stare breathlessly at it. Inside it lies a simple leather pouch with a drawstring tie. A thin layer of sand coats the floor of the safe. And it looks perfectly ordinary. And yet...

"They kept mixing that stuff with the drugs. I don't really understand why."

Then Crane starts, jerks upwards.

"I almost forgot!" Crane exclaims. "They've got some guy held prisoner in the basement!"

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

Katherine snatches at the bag with an almost frantic energy, and ends up putting her weight on the wrong foot again and slamming down onto the wall for support, staring at the pouch with an unhealthy look on her face. It's a pallor, a greyness, the shock of the rationalist who is presented with something beyond their ken and logic.

"Wha-sand-dream?" She manages to gasp out. It's debatable whether Bolton or the Avenger hear her.

Her leg hurts, far too much, but in an abstract and far-away kind of way. She stands up unsteadily, and reaches for the bag, and stops. "Crane." She says. Her voice is odd and hollow. "What is this bag, and who is the man down in the basement? He's nude, isn't he, with hair... like twilight..." Her voice trails off as she realizes what she's saying, and comes back stronger. "Tell us what you know, and we'll get you out of those cuffs. And maybe get the law to go easy on you, present you as a unwilling accomplice. First question first, before those other ones - what were you working on here? What was it he wanted you to make?"

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

Bolton lowers himself once again so that Katherine can take her weight off of her bad leg. He stares into the safe, at the pouch and the sand, and shakes his head. "Was this what you were expecting?" And then, in response to her story, he nods. "Cobblepot. Yes, and Falcone, too. And al-Ghul. You might get your chance, before everything's over and done with." He smiles, although she can't hear it. She had potential. And the Crimson Avenger, too. He just might have to show the both of them the Slammer, maybe bring them into his little enterprise. "And don't worry, it's not a waste. The assassin is dead and we've got their scientist in custody. We've wrecked their business here. It's not a waste."

He turns his head to look at Crane. "This... powder. Do you know what it is?" And then, when the thin man mentions a hostage, Bolton's spine straightens, unfortunately drawing Katherine up on the tips of her toes, should she have an arm around his shoulders. "Who? Where?"

[industrious]

Johnathan Crane

"I don't know!"

His eyes are growing frantic, and his fingers fly to his handcuffed wrist, where he starts scratching at it.

"They just mentioned him while they were feeding me. And...they had to keep me from escaping. I've been trapped in this room, locked to this damned radiator for months! They had me designing their new drug. And they tested it on me! Please! Knock me out! I can't take much more of this!"

He lunges towards the bag, and once more, the cuffs keep him leashed.

"Basement. Knock me out. Please..."

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

He moves to take a step forward, but is hobbled by Katherine's dependance on his shoulder. "Hold on," he growls. "Give us just a minute." He looks towards the Crimson Avenger. "Subdue him. Make sure he doesn't hurt himself." And then, to the scientist himself. "Doctor... Crane. Calm down. You're safe, now. We aren't going to hurt you." He's not used to pretending to be friendly - and the thought of a teacher having a dalliance with one of his students turns his stomach - but right now Crane was more important sane than otherwise, and certainly more useful to them conscious.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

Crimson Avenger

The Crimson Avenger gasped as she saw the interior of the safe. She wasn't sure how this could be happening am I still dreaming?, but there it was: a simple leather bag, its contents the most precious thing in this world or any other. She saw the policewoman's reaction as she headed towards the biochemist. "No, Lock-Up. Crane is not important. The man below is - unimaginably so. I'll make it as painless as I can, Dr. Crane," she said, putting the tall, thin man in a sleeper hold. As he passed out, she studied Lt. Walker's stunned visage. "You recognize it too. The naked man in the glass bottle. The man in the tweed suit with all the empty books. How...how is this even possible? How can two people that have never met share the same dream?"

Too many questions. Answers are below. She released her hold on Dr. Crane, and headed directly out the door, moving with a directed purpose towards the stairs to the basement.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

Lock-UpAnd then, when the thin man mentions a hostage, Bolton's spine straightens, unfortunately drawing Katherine up on the tips of her toes, should she have an arm around his shoulders.

Bolton hears a strangled scream from his side, and turns a little to see Katherine glaring utter daggers at him. Instead of cursing him, though, she looks at Crane. "Should've kept him awake." She said. "He was an addict. Addicts can get talky. Could've told us more stuff we needed to know."

She looks at the other woman, and is surprised to know precisely what she's talking about. "That was it. Creepy as hell. When did you get it? Been here before?" The policewoman grunted, and glared at Bolton. "Male freak, you know what we're talking about? This whole thing is getting strange."

And before we leave, someone get that pouch. Without touching it. Use gloves. And take Crane." The policewoman spits. "They're evidence. Not leaving them behind, after all this. Been far too much work."

[industrious]

The Basement

The stairs to the basement go down for what seems like far longer than they should; while the fluorescent lights are working, they do so only barely. The light is dim and constantly flickering.

The basement is all of one room, and unfinished; plain concrete walls and floors, with dust scattered almost entirely over the floor. Almost entirely. For in the middle of the basement lies a man, pale and naked, a black chalk circle circumscribed with white runes.

He is gaunt, and painfully so. All in the group had seen pictures of Holocaust survivors, freshly liberated from camps; the man in the circle was at least as thin as those wretched beings. He is naked, and utterly so, curled in the fetal position to preserve any last shreds of his dignity. He is as pale as a corpse, and were it not for the slight movements he makes, one might think he was one. A shock of blue-black hair, tangled and ratty completes the picture.

At the sound of footsteps, he turns towards the group, eyes widening in shock and surprise. Slowly and with what seems to be a great deal of effort, he extends his hand outward, the limb never leaving the confines of the circle, begging for aid.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

The policewoman looks at the other female freak. She knows that the prison must be broken, smashed. There's no way it could not be, not as a cop, not even as a cop in Gotham. "You wanna, or shall I?" She asks, and smiles. "You can even use my stick. It'd be a honor."