Gotham: Year One

[Sojobo]

Gunshots. Angry voices shouting. Another night in Gotham, Hagen supposes, but too much of a coincidence, what with this Wayne Enterprises shipment coming in. With the sound of wet clay, he assumes the form of a late-toiling dockworker, armored in a worn, dirty large peacoat.

He tucks a hand into his new peacoat, resting his hand on the butt of his pistol, and rushes to the corner...

[kpenguin]

Spoiler

DC 13? You mean DC 18, right? Toughness DCs are 15+rank.

[roll=Toughness]1d20+6[/roll]

EDIT: Re-rolled roll was 20.

The bullet just barely grazes off of Hush's armored shirt.

[doliest]

Michael
Michael doesn't seem to be moving at all, beyond breathing, though it's hard to tell if he was even hit, considering how large the coat is on him.

Spoiler

Regen check for disability- (1d20+7)[10]
DC-10

[industrious]

Starting with one, and spreading to the others, the sailor's drop their guns, and raise their hands. They weren't trained for this. They were smugglers, not gunsmen. Unarmed innocents and crazy homeless people were one thing. What appeared to be a highly competent assailant holding the other party hostage was another. They were getting paid either way, and besides. It was Gotham. They weren't going to get anything more than a slap on the wrist. If Chill died in the shootout though...heads would roll. Theirs last.

[DeafnotDumb]

"Police here!" Katherine keeps Chill in her hold, looking out at the darkness of Gotham as her free hand dropped her cane to instead draw her gun. There had been more people here, shooting at the bodyguards. For all she knew, she might've just stumbled onto a gang skirmish. The goddamn irony if she'd just saved this crook's life. "Whoever's out there, get the **** into my view and we can not shoot this out. Even in Gotham, you don't want to be the guys who shot a cop."

The cop glares at all the sailors and small-time around her and gestures with her gun. "Everybody else, down on the goddamn ground! I'll figure what to do with you later." With the burst of adrenaline gone, her leg was starting to ache now, and she was facing an unknown threat probably just about to pump her full of enough bullets to turn her into a lifeless lump with enough lead in her body to set of any metal detector.

This was not doing wonders for her mood.

[industrious]

The small-time do as they're told, though Chill does hurl obscenities at them for doing so. He isn't going anywhere, though; her grip is too good for the mob lieutenant.

"You don't have the figure to be Montoya, and I doubt Falcone's disappointed with me. Who the hell are you?"

[DeafnotDumb]

"Asking someone wearing a mask who she is. Yeah, that's going to work." Katherine snorts and scans the darkness for any possible threat, while the hand holding her gun pats Chill's leg and torso, trying it's best to find anything there - weapons, drugs, papers, anything that could be useful or could be used as evidence against the gangster. "I can see how you got to be such a big player now."

Her legs were starting to seriously complain from standing still. If there was no reply soon, she was going to drag Chill out of here there and then, and damn the consequences.

Spoiler

Notice anything/anyone in the darkness (1d20+12)[22].
Search Chill (1d20+13)[30]

[industrious]

In her search, and punctuated by Chill's comments("Kinky *****" was one of them), Katherine finds a pistol, probably unregistered. The crime boss isn't dumb enough to carry any drugs on him. Of course, given that you're in the middle of what is obviously a drug transaction, a few pictures of the product and a sample would suffice.

Katherine also sees the dead homeless guy, who judging from the pistol in his hand was probably some rival assassin, someone dressed like a mummy on a rooftop...and a dockworker. At least one reliable witness. If he could be convinced to cooperate.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine grabs the gun and flicks the safety on, throwing it to the side. She motions over at the dockworker, a beckoning movement combined with a shout of "Hey, you! Police! Come over here!" Quite apart from any consideration of witnesses or evidence, she needed an extra pair of hands to cuff Chill while she kept her gun on him.

Meanwhile, she maneuvered Chill so he was offering cover from the assassin - whatever kind of freak dressed up in that fetish gear and went out on rooftops - and lifted her gun so it wasn't quite pointing at him, but near enough to leave the message that it could be pointed so if she wished. With the same hand, she beckoned him to come down. While keeping her eye on him for what he'd do when he refused.

It'd be really nice to know what the hell she'd stumbled upon here.

[Sojobo]

Feigning hesitance, "Mitch" the Dockworker stepped out from the safety of the corner, pointing at himself as if saying "Who, me?" Channeling just a little bit of the Cowardly Lion, he hobbled over slowly to the masked woman and the dangerous gangsters.

"I - I don't want no trouble..."

Inwardly, he was wondering what exactly was going on. This didn't seem related at all to that Wayne Enterprises shipment... and who was this extremely capable if also extremely crazy masked woman? Intriguing.

Spoiler

Does Hagen recognize Chill or anyone there?

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine noticed the dock worker beside her, and rolled her eyes. "Oh, for - it's a drug bust. Gonna need you as witness." Katherine threw Chill to the ground (accompanied with a boot to the torso) and stepped back so that she could keep both the assassin and Chill in her view and therefore line of fire. With her left hand she took a pair of handcuffs from her pocket and tossed them to the dockworker without taking her eyes from her target. "Cuff that guy, fetch me my stick and then find some cover. I'd give you my name and rank but I don't want this piece of trash knowing who I am."

There was a pause as Katherine's mind worked, and something clicked."What are you doing out here now? All the dockhands would've been sent home or working on the drug shipment. You got a story to tell?"

[Sojobo]

Mitch, with shaking hands and with nervous, sidelong glances at the mobsters all around him, began to comply with the masked cop. He even jumped a little and made a little noise when she tossed him the handcuffs, as if they were a pair of live snakes.

Inwardly, Hagen was intrigued. A drug bust? A real one? With an actual cop doing her job for once? True, this one could be lying and she was wearing a strange mask, but this might be the shipment Hassad was talking about.

"B-b-boss called," he stammered, fumbling with the handcuffs, "said somethin' effed up 'bout Pier 37 or 39... W-w-wayne Enterprises?"

He continued handling the handcuffs, making an outward show of not knowing what he was doing, but he maneuvered so that only the masked woman could see him and his handling of the handcuffs changed: his stance, the way his body addressed the prisoner and how he prepped the cuffs revealed - he hoped - that he had some experience with law enforcement.

If that failed, there was always the really fast wink he gave her.

Spoiler

Attempting some innuendo via Bluff to send a message to Walker that he is law enforcement.
(1d20+12)[22]

[kpenguin]

Bleeding from his last injury, Hush retreats from the rooftop's edge, trying to get out of the woman's line of sight.

[doliest]

Michael
He lays as his wounds continue to heal. Still not quite holding attention on the group, or noticing the group. Yet.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine notes the dockworker's wink as she lowers her gun from it's aim at the rooftops, and takes it on board. "Pier thirty-nine? This ain't it. Something happening there? - Good job with the cuffs, by the way. Hold a sec."

The cop walked over close to where the injured man in the trenchcoat was lying still and knealt down, near enough to try and gauge the wounds but hopefully out of reach of any attack. Her free hand automatically reached into her pocket and then stopped. With a curse, she called back over her shoulder. "Got a phone? Left mine, didn't want to be identified. We'll need the rest of the cops and probably an ambulance. Once they're here I can think of collecting some evidence without letting nobody out of my sight."

[doliest]

Michael
He shakes his head, getting up to his feet. The gun in his hand is definitely not the kind of thing a 'well meaning citizen' carries. "Walker." He murmurs, repeating his name to himself as he peers over her shoulder, trying to get a gauge on what happened while he was...fixing himself.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine's reaction to the man is immediate, quickly drawing her gun and pointing it at his head from mere inches away, grabbing his coat and pressing right up into his face so no-one else will hear her hiss. "How did you know my name?"

[doliest]

Michael
"It's my name." He doesn't seem the least bit interested in her reaction, instead attempting to peer over her gun at Chill, still trying to get a precise lock on the man's location and state.

[DeafnotDumb]

In a fit of confusion, Katherine lowers her gun. "What the hell are you?"

[doliest]

Michael
"The Saint of the Streets." He keeps his eyes on Chill, continuing to focus on the man, despite the fact that Katherine has a gun in her hand.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine follows the madman's gaze, and lifts her gun again - this time with much more composure and menace. It's not quite levelled at his face, but the threat is easily there. It's careful, though, because she's heard of this guy. "Listen, buddy, I need that guy, so slack off your crusade for a minute. he's gonna get me Carmine and Cobblepot and the rest of them, so slack off. You can get behind that, can't you?"

[Sojobo]

This was getting complicated very quickly; who the hell was this other guy who should, really, be bleeding out all over the sidewalk? And this Walker - the female one - seemed to have seen someone up on the rooftops... who else was lurking around? Hagen did not like this one bit.

"Oh my god," he quavered, "there could be like a million guys out here, is W.E.* really smuggling drugs?"

*Wayne Enterprises

[DeafnotDumb]

"****, yes." Katherine scoffed. "Wouldn't put anything past them. But good luck finding any evidence. These guys probably ain't even the middlemen yet."

The cop didn't turn her eyes away from the Saint. "Do me another favour, and grab me a sample of those drugs for evidence. And some for yourself, if you swing that way."

[doliest]

Michael
"I am His Servant; I dispense His Vengeance on the heretics of this city, who attack those who cannot defend themselves. I came to stop this man who polluted my streets. Who corrupted my people with false promises and sinful vice." He shakes his head, "If 'Carmine' and 'Cobblepot' are responsible for this, they will feel my judgment; it will be the last thing they feel." He looks past her at Chill, "Joe Chill; I will come for you after I have dealt with your leaders. Pray for forgiveness and repent. He may grant you mercy."

Spoiler

Intimidate Check-
(1d20+6)[21]

[industrious]

The Docks

Spoiler

(1d20+6)[14]

As he is carted off by Walker, he freezes, a look of abject terror on his face. Still, his confidence isn't entirely destroyed.

"Walker, eh? Good to know...Patrolwoman."

The Narrows

The Saint of the Streets returns to rest amongst the poor, waiting for the next crisis. Waiting for his flock to call for him.

Agent Clay

Detective Walker gives the "dockworker" a number, to be used in case she needs an additional witness. Hopefully, the photographic and physical evidence she personally collected will be enough.

As he heads back to his appartment, he passes the nearby pier. An oil tanker is driving away, a biohazard sign clearly marked on its side. He can't stop it. He was too late. But there was definitely something off about Al Ghul...

GCPD

The papers are in. The biggest bust in recent memory. Chill wasn't exactly high ranked, as things go, but middle management is better than none. And talk of plea bargains were already floating about.

On her way to her desk, Walker is stopped by Gordon. His tone is neutral; his eyes show how worried he is.

"The Commissioner...wants to see you."

Loeb was known for corruption. Everybody knew it. He was the mob's man, bought and paid for. Talking with him wouldn't be good news at all.

Wayne Manor

It was time for the Visit. To see an old friend, brought low by tragedy. The drive up to the Manor is long and winding; from atop the mountain overlooking most of Gotham, Elliot wonders what his friend saw when he looked down upon the city.

As he pulls up to the front door, he sees another car, an older model and of lesser quality already parked. An older man, with graying hair and a goatee that contrasted with his dark skin is just leaving. His coat, soaked through in the rain slips open for a moment, revealing a suit and Wayne Enterprises badge. He doesn't look at Elliot, merely pulls into his car, and drives off.

Alfred is waiting for the doctor as always. Impeccably dressed, elderly, and unchanging. One of life's true constants.

"Greetings, Master Elliot. Would you care for any sort of refreshment this morning?"

[kpenguin]

"Hello Alf. Some tea would be nice."

Elliot looks back at the car that just drove away. Who was that? Bruce Wayne did not get many visitors... not many with good intentions anyway.

[industrious]

"Very well, Master Elliot."

He returns shortly with a complete service for one. Thomas can already smell his favorite blend. Loose leaves and a pot, of course. Alfred wouldn't dare settle for anything less. And woe to the man who used teabags while Alfred was in sight.

"I suppose you were wondering who that was driving off earlier, then, Master Elliot?"

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine looks at Gordon's eyes, and immediately drops her work and reaches for her stick. She doesn't curse, though, because that would be showing weakness. Instead, as she starts on her way to the commissioner, she turns around a bit. "How's that kid of yours, Gordon?"

[industrious]

He turns around, and smiles. It's strange; she hasn't seen the Lieutenant ever happy before.

"She's good, Detective. Very good."

...

The commissioner's office was three floors up, and the men already in the elevator deliberately closed it on the cane-bound woman. Thus twenty minutes later, Walker entered the Commissioner's office. Fine wood paneling, papers neatly stacked in their trays, and the smell of fine cigars and brandy. Loeb was definitely living the good life. And not on his paltry salary from Gotham City Hall.

"Hello, Detective. Please sit down."

It wasn't a request. And being the worst man for the job(if the job was keeping crime down in Gotham), Loeb was still her boss. She knew she was currently untouchable because of the prestige of capturing Chill, but still. There were other ways to deal with her.

"I was wondering why a detective in the Pawn Department was wandering the docks early this morning. It certainly seems outside your jurisdiction. Would you care to explain yourself, Detective?"

[kpenguin]

Elliot sips his tea.

"Just another company stooge, I assumed. Trying to cheat Bruce out of his fortune."