Gotham: A New Generation (IC)

[The Nordic Model]

Ryan Choi
Gotham University - Friday, October 17 - 7:45 PM

Ryan arrived at Gotham University’s physics department in a painstakingly punctual fashion. He needed to be at Dr. Palmer’s lab by 8:00 PM sharp. As he entered the University, he couldn’t help but notice the numerous police cars parked outside. Crime was on the rise, especially around areas with youngsters like in the University. He strolled into the building, straightening his tie to ensure that he looked proper for Dr. Palmer. Last night he naturally looked a bit disheveled. As he walked in, a behemoth of a scene lay in front of him. The ceiling above Ryan was broken, desks and chairs were turned over. Some spiders and mice still littered the hallways.

Ryan, undeterred, carefully entered the lab to find Dr. Palmer (The Atom) and his friend Adam Cray sitting down, looking particularly in shock.

“Er, hey guys. Did I miss something? I’m here to talk about the superhero stuff, remember?”

[The Democratic Marxists]

Dr. Ray Palmer
Ray turned around in his wheelie chair to find that annoying kid from last night standing in his lab again. Perfect timing. Just after a massive animal assault on the University, this kid had to show up and add to Ray’s already poor mood. Seriously. The Atom had been getting a ton of flack the whole day by the media for stealing the District Attorney’s car (it had to be the DA’s). Plus, he was the prime suspect in the collapse of Ace Chem. Then, he’d literally spent the past 30 minutes at the lab chucking textbooks and staplers at a worrying variety of critters. He really just needed to curl up in bed with a good book and hot chocolate.

“Er, hey guys. Did I miss something? I’m here to talk about the superhero stuff, remember?”

“Oh. Hey Ryan,” Ray said coolly and somewhat dumbly, “Listen, there’s been a systematic attack on the University...using insects and small creatures. Our focus has shifted temporarily from arms dealing to the current crisis. Apparently, because of all the panic in the library, things broke and stuff, so there might be injured students or staff members stuck inside the building. Batgirl just crusaded off into the night, so it’s our job to save those few people. Adam has located human body heat in specific areas to find out where people are trapped. Ryan, your job is to figure out who’s behind this attack. Research any supervillain who can control animals, etc. I’ll go rescue the people stuck inside.”

Ray jumped up, clicked a button on his suit’s belt, and it automatically wrapped itself around Ray. It was time for some true heroic antics!

The Atom
Ray’s suit’s enhanced hearing function caught the distant cough of a human. “Hello...” Ray called, “are you trapped?”

“I’m down here! Help! *cough cough* Help! I’m stuck!” The voice whimpered. Two bookshelves had toppled onto this poor kid.

“Here.” Ray said reassuringly. He shrunk to ant size, slipped under the shelf, and grew back to regular size. The momentum shoved the two shelves aside. The girl beneath the shelf immediately captured Ray’s attention.

“Thanks.” Her sleek voice was like maple syrup on French Toast. Ray could see that she was injured, probably a couple of broken bones. He picked her up and brought her downstairs to an ambulance.

“Um...my welcome? You’re very pleasure. I mean...you’re very welcome. It was my pleasure.” Ray fumbled. He asked her name.

“Nitika Subramanian. And you are..?”

“Dr...Er...Atom.”

“Dr. Adam?” The girl repeated in confusion.

“Um, no. Just Atom.”

“Ok. Thank you Atom.” And with that, the ambulance carried her away.

That awkward moment when you realize you have a crush on one of the quiet students in the chemistry class that you teach.

[Tamrida]

Dr. Byron Meredith/Merrymaker

Echo appreciated that Meredith respected her want for silence, she wasn't one for small talk and it would have been awkward to constantly answer with short replies that were vague and short. She also didn't reply to his question when they arrived at the hideout, she simply got out of the car and hoped that Meredith figured out that it was indeed the right location and that he was to follow her. Echo lead Meredith into the water tower where they would find Riddler pouring over notes and schematics.

With no response to his question, but rather her moving out of the car and towards the building, Dr. Meredith assumed that following her was the right thing to do, so he got out of the car and did just that.

"Riddler, I've brought Dr. Meredith like you've asked." Echo said as she ushered Meredith inside.

"Good, now you can go join Query at the warehouse now, she should be almost done. Once you two are done there you can meet me at the docks with our surprise." Riddler responded, not looking up from his notes. Echo left without a word, leaving the two men in the water tower.

"Now, Dr. Meredith, as you can see I have spent my time studying the docks and devising the best possible plan for retrieving the box that Penguin wants. Since the box will be heavily guarded by the League of Assassins we'll have to very careful about our approach. Now, I've been working on some prototypical stealth tech that might work long enough to for us to slip in, grab the box, and get out without alerting anyone. If that fails I have a back up that's better left as a secret. Now, I know you're probably stunned by my brilliance, but try to muster up some words to praise my plan at least."

The last remark struck a nerve with Dr. Meredith, and in a measured yet hostile tone he said, "It would do you well to never interpret my silent observation as acceptance, ignorance, or stupidity Mr. Nygma." He paused for a moment to let that sink in before discussing what he thought about the plan. "It is of the utmost importance that we can solve this problem without a hitch, and that these prototype stealth devices work as well as you want them to without killing us or failing at a crucial moment. As for a backup plan, you better hope that they don't fail as well, and just in case, I will bring my own tertiary plan just in case, that I will keep as a secret to myself until the time comes." He pauses again to ponder over something that was bugging him and then decides to bring the issue up to the Riddler "There is also the issue of betrayal by Mr. Cobblepot, either intentional or unintentional. As it stands, he is the one who can gain the most from deceiving us, as to either get us out of his way to further his own gains, use us as a distraction for the GCDP so he can do something else without a problem, or to just further his own standing with the 'caped crusaders' and authorities by reporting our plan, and if he will not intentionally betray us, there are plenty of ways to unintentionally do so. Maybe his information was wrong and there are more then just fifty shadow ninjas on the boat, maybe the dock workers weren't bribed enough and decide to betray us, maybe his distraction won't show up. All of these are variables that need to be taken into account."

[Bycrest]

Dr. Byron Meredith/Merrymaker

Echo appreciated that Meredith respected her want for silence, she wasn't one for small talk and it would have been awkward to constantly answer with short replies that were vague and short. She also didn't reply to his question when they arrived at the hideout, she simply got out of the car and hoped that Meredith figured out that it was indeed the right location and that he was to follow her. Echo lead Meredith into the water tower where they would find Riddler pouring over notes and schematics.

With no response to his question, but rather her moving out of the car and towards the building, Dr. Meredith assumed that following her was the right thing to do, so he got out of the car and did just that.

"Riddler, I've brought Dr. Meredith like you've asked." Echo said as she ushered Meredith inside.

"Good, now you can go join Query at the warehouse now, she should be almost done. Once you two are done there you can meet me at the docks with our surprise." Riddler responded, not looking up from his notes. Echo left without a word, leaving the two men in the water tower.

"Now, Dr. Meredith, as you can see I have spent my time studying the docks and devising the best possible plan for retrieving the box that Penguin wants. Since the box will be heavily guarded by the League of Assassins we'll have to very careful about our approach. Now, I've been working on some prototypical stealth tech that might work long enough to for us to slip in, grab the box, and get out without alerting anyone. If that fails I have a back up that's better left as a secret. Now, I know you're probably stunned by my brilliance, but try to muster up some words to praise my plan at least."

The last remark struck a nerve with Dr. Meredith, and in a measured yet hostile tone he said, "It would do you well to never interpret my silent observation as acceptance, ignorance, or stupidity Mr. Nygma." He paused for a moment to let that sink in before discussing what he thought about the plan. "It is of the utmost importance that we can solve this problem without a hitch, and that these prototype stealth devices work as well as you want them to without killing us or failing at a crucial moment. As for a backup plan, you better hope that they don't fail as well, and just in case, I will bring my own tertiary plan just in case, that I will keep as a secret to myself until the time comes." He pauses again to ponder over something that was bugging him and then decides to bring the issue up to the Riddler "There is also the issue of betrayal by Mr. Cobblepot, either intentional or unintentional. As it stands, he is the one who can gain the most from deceiving us, as to either get us out of his way to further his own gains, use us as a distraction for the GCDP so he can do something else without a problem, or to just further his own standing with the 'caped crusaders' and authorities by reporting our plan, and if he will not intentionally betray us, there are plenty of ways to unintentionally do so. Maybe his information was wrong and there are more then just fifty shadow ninjas on the boat, maybe the dock workers weren't bribed enough and decide to betray us, maybe his distraction won't show up. All of these are variables that need to be taken into account."

The Riddler

"If there's one thing I know about Cobblepot," Riddler said as he ignored Meredith's first comment. "It's that he gets his information right. That salty old bird may look like he's lost his edge, but he's still as sharp as a tack, and he's always planning something. I fully expect Penguin to betray us, that's why we're not going to pull this heist off without leaving behind some evidence. We'll make it look like Penguin's men were the ones to raid the ship, he's always got his hands on some kind of advance tech that it wouldn't be hard to pin this one on him. If that doesn't work, I can always slip hints to the local authorities."

Riddler moved over to the monitors that where showing the live feed of the docks via satellite. "As you've said yourself, Penguin is in a position to gain everything, but he's also in a position that could cost him everything if he slips up. It would be wise for him not to betray me, but it always helps to be cautious. Now that we've discussed that, shall we proceed with the mission?"

[Tamrida]

The Riddler

"If there's one thing I know about Cobblepot," Riddler said as he ignored Meredith's first comment. "It's that he gets his information right. That salty old bird may look like he's lost his edge, but he's still as sharp as a tack, and he's always planning something. I fully expect Penguin to betray us, that's why we're not going to pull this heist off without leaving behind some evidence. We'll make it look like Penguin's men were the ones to raid the ship, he's always got his hands on some kind of advance tech that it wouldn't be hard to pin this one on him. If that doesn't work, I can always slip hints to the local authorities."

Riddler moved over to the monitors that where showing the live feed of the docks via satellite. "As you've said yourself, Penguin is in a position to gain everything, but he's also in a position that could cost him everything if he slips up. It would be wise for him not to betray me, but it always helps to be cautious. Now that we've discussed that, shall we proceed with the mission?"

Dr. Byron Meredith/Merrymaker
Thinking it over for a second, Dr. Meredith decided to just go along with it for the sake of progress, although he wasn't satisfied with the mission. "Fair enough," he said, "if that is all there is to discuss, I should be going, it is fairly late and I need to get my equipment ready for the plan tomorrow. Should there be any changes to the plan during the day, by either yourself or the Penguin, I would like to be informed of them by a messaged sent to my office. Now, if there isn't anything left that you would like to discuss, I will take my leave and meet you back here by about 8PM tomorrow for a final check on equipment and readiness so that we can be ready for action at 10, when Mr. Cobblepot said the boat would be here." With that said the doctor tuned to leave.

[United States of Brainy]

The Penguin

Oswald smiled to himself as soon as Merrymaker and the Riddler had left. They had taken the bait like fish on a hook. Now, he just had to make sure they stay hooked and then reel them in when the time came. Slowly, ever so slowly, so they didn’t fall off the line. It was an art and Oswald considered himself a master at it.

Chuckling, the laughter sounding like a “hack-hack-hack”, the Penguin picked up the phone and dialed a number. The voice on the other line was curt and to the point. All business. Just the way Oswald liked it. “Are you available? Tomorrow night. Gotham Harbor. 10pm,” the Penguin asked. “If you are, I have a job for you….”

[Pax Nerdvana]

Gotham Harbor
10:34pm, Friday- October 17th

The Nanda Dawn quietly entered the mouth of the East River on its way to the Port of Gotham. The freighter had been caught in a bad Nor’easter but had managed to plow through the choppy seas with minimal delay. Which was good because the cargo it carried required delivery before the setting of the sun the next day. No, not the pallets of medical equipment packed in the hull, slated for delivery to a Gotham biotech company. This cargo was special, not on the original manifest. Nor were the crates of assault rifles. They had been loaded onto the freighter when it had been hijacked off the Java Sea.

The new masters of the vessel had taken control three weeks earlier, locking the crew below decks. But, unlike other pirates, they were neither interested in ransom nor selling their plunder on the black market. They had needed a ship, one that had as its final destination Gotham City. For a far more sinister purpose than mere maritime piracy.

The cold, October rain fell in sheets on the deck, whipped by the salty Atlantic gale. Even the most seasoned sailor would be chilled to the bone but the hulking form standing watch on deck neither noticed nor cared.

Ubu only cared about serving his master, the great Ra’s al Ghul. And the service he was performing this night was safeguarding and delivering the cherrywood case tucked in an inner pocket of his robes. The rifles would be distributed to the degenerates and the craven of this city. To sow chaos and further the goals of the League.

But the case had special import. The case was why fifty Shadow ninjas lurked on the decks and within the bowels of this ship. The case was the reason why Ubu was here. The faithful bodyguard had no idea what the case held. Nor did it matter. Neither curiosity nor greed tempted Ra’s most trusted servant which was the reason he was chosen for this mission.

There. The bright beam of a high-powered flashlight pierced the drenching rain. The signal from their agents on the pier. Over two dozen of them. They had overpowered and tied up the dockhands, locked them in a warehouse. The captive workers would serve as hostages if any heroes were foolhardy enough to show. As for the police and harbor security, some fool of a local crime lord had paid them off. Yes, the League was well aware of the machinations of these so-called supervillains, another reason for the shadow warriors. In all his wisdom, Ra’s al Ghul had seen to it that nothing would interfere with their plans and Ubu and the ninjas were the instruments to ensure that.

Ed Johnson
Near Gotham Harbor

Ed Johnson was now approaching the harbor. Through his night vision gear, he saw a ship docking. It looked like there were a large group of people on the pier, but they were crowded together, so he couldn't count them. He in the shadows of a warehouse so he could observe them, and figure out what in tarnation was going on. He pulled a small monoscope from his pocket, and held it up to his eye. He looked through it, and saw what appeared to have the makings of a hostage crisis. He silently wished for an M4A1 with an M203 grenade launcher. He wouldn't stand much of a chance against them, even with his skill with his M1911. His gas mask had a small, built-in camera. He turned it on. He would wait, and observe what was going on. He would make a move if necessary. He placed his right hand on the butt of his handgun, out of instinct.

[United States of Brainy]

Gotham Harbor
10:52pm

The freighter pulled up to the wharf, giant ropes being thrown off to secure the vessel to the pier. Ninjas flitted off the deck, using skyhooks and ziplines to swing through the air and take up overwatch positions in the adjacent warehouses. Others were perched on the ship’s scaffolding and radio towers. Watching through night vision goggles, swords and hi-tech weapons at the ready. They not only had anti-personnel weapons but rocket launchers and an extra surprise hidden under a tarp on deck.

Ubu, surrounded by a personal bodyguard of ten ninjas, descended the gangplank. He was greeted by the team of agents acting as dock workers, their presence illuminated in the hi-beam glare of eight white-paneled vans.

“Quickly,” Ubu snapped. “Get the rifles loaded into the vans. I don’t wish to be here a moment longer than necessary." He patted the case inside his robes as a reminder of his real mission here.

The agents hurried to get the work down. Cranes began off-loading the crates of rifles. The rain had decreased to an intermittent drizzle, oily puddles of water splashing against boots and everything slick and damp. Ubu scanned the area with narrowed eyes. Everything seemed quiet but Ubu knew that only a foolish man expected the best without preparing for the worst. They still had hostages, both the real dock workers in the warehouse and the captive crew aboard ship. Not to mention all the firepower and deadly skill of his ninjas. Yes, whoever dared to interfere would face a challenge indeed!

[Auphelia]

Nightwing

Dick continued to rev his motorcycle angrily until the fated shower of sparks fell from the links in the fence, and the distinct buzzing sound died away. He hopped off his motorcycle, and disconnected the wire, spoolig it back into his glove launchers.
Dick took a few large steps back from the fence, sprinting toward it and leaping toward the side of one of the massive concrete pillars supporting the fence. His legs impacted the concrete and he grabbed two of the fence bars. Pushing upwards with his legs and arms he propelled himself up towards the top of the fence.

He planted his feet on two of the bars and pushed, gripping the top bar of the fence he flipped over vertically sliding down the vertical bars and landing in a crouch.

The various lights placed around the grounds worked to his advantage, his suit darkening to match the pitch black effect surrounding the lights. Nightwing stuck to the bushes and hedges, keen to avoid security patrols and the drones flying overhead. It would take him about an hour at his current rate.

He continued, until he found himself at a clearing, a fountain park of sorts. And it had lions, lions.
"Now I've seen everything." He chuckled to himself.
He gave them a wide berth but found himself caught between a dog patrol at the base of the small hill adorning the fountain, close to a road.

Nightwing crept down the hill, drawing his Eskrima sticks and activating them, they crackled angrily. He threw one at the dog and broke into a sprint toward it's handler, sliding around him and bashing him in the knee with the stick, before whipping up and grabbing him in a chokehold, lowering him to the ground softly and picking up his other Eskrima stick.

He looked around, seeing a camera trained right on him and witnessing the entire ambush. He threw a Wing ding, that shattered the lens and he started running toward the house, traversing through the bushes away from the road. Every guard and his mother would be here in god knows how long, the closer he was to the house when that happened the better.

The rest of the pack gave chase, unworried about the loss of their "handler". The dog hit with the heavy stick limped, its shoulder obviously broken, but seemed to ignore whatever pain it might have. The pack, seven in all, chased this Nightwing character, frothing at the mouths, barking furiously. They quickly close the gap, not heeding the same branches Nightwing is forced to duck under or jump over. German Shepherds, Saint Bernards, Labradors and Rottweilers nip at his heels, almost as if encouraging him to go faster. It is a furious chase of paws and boots, the wet ground from the brief showers earlier in the night turning up in wet clods, spraying everywhere and ruining the perfection of the lawn. They force him down path after path, an endless maze with no end in sight.

Then, as if hours later, the HoverDrones arrive. With four circular rotors framing the sphere of their main body, the HoverDrones are futuristic in every sense of the word, glowing a cheerful green. Five in all, they spread out and issue the same cheerful warning from tinny speakers embedded in their titanium-lead hulls, impervious to bullets and EMPs alike. At the sight of the drones, the dogs back off slightly, making a ring around the so-called hero.

HELLO, UNAUTHORISED ENTITY.  YOU HAVE TRESSPASSED ON PRIVATE PROPERTY.  YOU HAVE FIVE MINUTES TO REMOVE YOURSELF FROM THE PREMISES OR ELSE WE ARE AUTHORISED TO USE OUR SECURITY FEATURES.  HAVE A NICE DAY.

The drones wait for a moment, as if waiting for Nightwing to surrender, but before he can they all go still and their lights go off. The lights go off and the only sign they are still on is the whirring of their blades. Then, with a chirp, the drones begin to glow red and their tinny voices speak once again in unison, if a bit more menacingly.

FULL SECURITY LEVEL TWO ACTIVATED.  YOU HAVE TRESPASSED ON PRIVATE PROPERTY.  THE POLICE ARE ON ROUTE AND YOU ARE TO BE DETAINED.  PLEASE STAY STILL FOR CONTAINMENT.

At once a slot opens on all of the machines and a yellowish-white material begins to spray out of the drones. No more than a small stream from each, when it touches the grass around Nightwing it expands exponentially, even stray flecks touching only one piece of grass swelling to the size of tennis and footballs. The foam cascades down, forming a small barricade and rapidly swelling towards the man. In seconds he will be caught, and not even Batman himself could escape from containment foam once touched. If Nightwing wants to escape, the moment must be now.

The sound of sirens in the distance cut off all of this, as well as the sound of a large explosion near the front gate. Things have spiralled out of control, to be sure.

---

Ruth Bingum

Batgirl
Finally, they came to the Grand Dining Room and Barbara’s breath was just taken away. Despite everything she had seen, nothing prepared her for this. “You know, I would have been just fine with a cheeseburger,” she told Ms. Bingum as her mouth began to water and she took a seat.

A tinkling laugh burst from the woman's mouth, the musical arrangement of the vocal patterns sounding like diamonds pattering down on the high end of a piano scale, the very laugh of luxury and sophistication. What a silly thought, a cheese "burger" in the Bingum Palace! This Batgirl truly was a worthy Jester! She almost felt guilty about how this girl would have to die.

Almost.

"Darling, I can't let Gotham's newest and best caped crusader eat a mere cheeseburger on a night like tonight! After all you have done at the university and to keep me safe, it would be a snub of the highest regard. We have everything you could ever want. Roasted boar, peacock, quail, falcon, eagle, songbird, crane, turkey, veal pie, pork roast, filet mignon, and those are just the meats I can identify from here! Feel free to take a look around the table and take anything that strikes your fancy. I have had everything made . . . cheeseburgers being the obvious exception, I suppose," she says, smiling warmly and offering Batgirl a knowing wink. She remembered a time when she had wanted a simpler life, if it only meant she could sing. She drew on that in order to put on the facade of a knowing conspirator, wrapping this heroine around her little finger.

She snapped and suddenly, from several hidden doors, a dozen butlers came out. Eight stood at attention and the other four marched in perfect synchronicity and poured the girls' first glasses full of water to the exact same level, and then retreated back, leaving the second glasses empty.

"If you request a drink, simply summon a butler over with a simple snap or gesture. You have no need to worry about being seen as rude or brusque, I compensate my staff quite well to accommodate my somewhat antiquated views on servants. A callback to a bygone era, when this house was full of life, I suppose."

She turned to the two girls, who had seated themselves silently, though for far different reasons. The blonde, Sydney, seemed to be breaking her neck trying to take the entire room in, probably not even aware that her mouth was as wide open as the night sky, dotted with millions of stars, like diamonds strewn across a fine silk brocade. The other, Mary, seemed to have forgotten the vaguely irritated attitude of before to begin filling her plate with all kinds of foods she had never seen before. She knew the types, people not used to or from this world of wealth. People like Sydney were awestruck and sought to be rich themselves, a good kind of henchman. People like Mary were different, but the end result was the same. They didn't see the fairness in it, regardless of the fact that life is not fair. Why should Ruth get to sit in her, in this case, literal ivory tower when the poor struggled day in and day out to get whatever they could to survive? However, they quickly changed their tune when they saw something they could benefit from. Everyone had a price, and these were the best kind of henchmen for someone like Ruth, who had everything to offer. She would have to keep track of these two, for future recruitment. Who knew when she would need an army?

"Girls, please, eat as much as you want. As you can see, the soup kitchens won't be running short for several weeks no matter how much you take."

She had been planning evil machinations for hours now, perhaps it would be nice just to have a nice conversation over a lovely meal with equally ambitious women, no matter how misguided their use of power was. Besides, if tonight went well she might be seeing a lot more of Batgirl in the future.

And then the explosion happened. Even from their vantage point, almost forty stories in the air, the fireball appeared larger than life, consuming the front gate. A stream of ten cars, distinguished by their flashing lights, was stopped, while three vehicles were able to continue on. And who knew how many had been near the gatehouse when it was destroyed!? Abraham! She couldn't leave her chief of security, The Guard in her grand Court! She stood abruptly, having just seated herself, and pulled her phone out her her handbag for the second time that night. Quickly repeating her code and bio-metric scanning, she hit the number for Abrahanm's line. It rang, once, twice, three times . . . and then on the seventh ring he answered!

"Madame, you rang?"

"Abraham! What was that!?"

"I do not know madame. We believe the fence has been breached previously. The backup systems were coming back online when suddenly the guardhouse was engulfed in flames. Is the line secure? I just have this cheap one on me."

Ruth checked her phone and saw the green signal, indicating the line was closed to the two of them. "We're clear."

"I split into ten to find the trespasser, and probably would have died had I not. Either way, I lost my oldest form, which is always a drag, along with the other five guys who were in the building. We need to catch this guy. Before the guardhouse was destroyed, the operating system got a signal from some drones in the East Garden Memorial Maze Sector #3 saying they were in the process of apprehending the suspect, so I'll be heading there next. I'll call when I get there, in about five minutes, okay? Don't answer, it is just to reassure you. Now, given the situation, I think that a HoverTur- "

"Fine, Abraham. Upgrade to Full Security Level 3, HoverTurrets in effect. Lock down will be initiated as well. But please, replace the bullets in the Turrets with rubber ones, okay? The police are here, and I wouldn't want to leave a bad impression, or mar this lovely dinner with Batgirl."

"As you wish, madame."

"Stay safe, Abraham."

"I always do, madame."

He cut the signal and Ruth stared down at her phone for a moment before turning it off and stuffing it back her her bag. She quickly wiped her eyes where a small bit of moisture had accumulated and turned back to the girls and Batgirl.

"Well dears, there appears to have been an incident at the Gatehouse Guardhouse, and we are now on lock down. Have no fear, this house is virtually impregnable, and nothing short of the Justice League could get in without my say so," she says, smiling reassuringly, her eyes betraying a hint of worry. Not for herself, as she knows what she says is true, but rather for The Guard. The first member of her Court, it would be a bad omen for him to perish so soon. And she couldn't have bad omens, could she? She didn't have her High Priest yet! "Now, who is ready to eat!?"

Around the house, large mechanisms begin to work. A large wall goes up around the entire perimeter of the house estate and the bridges begin to sink down, going so far as to sink beneath the waves of the lake so far below. The hovering towers and gardens begin to settle into their proper positions as part of the main house, setting down for the first time in years. The animal cages are sealed off from the outside by steel plating, and the lake water begins to rise, only to fall short several metres of the rim of earth.
A special metal curtain sealed off the lake, the same material the wall is made of surrounding the house, and another wall comes up from the ground around the rim of the former lake, and jets begin to pump molten lava into the newly created moat. In minutes the entire house is now surrounded by a moat of lava, complete with randomly erupting jets and intense heat. And then the real work begins. A solid sheet of greenish-white light covers over the entire house like a dome, emitting from the top of the wall around the home, shielding everything. Around the estate, from under every greenhouse, hundreds of HoverDrones and HoverTurrets swarm. Each HoverTurret has 5 HoverSpies, small cameras that are tiny orbs in their own right. They dock on the HoverTurrets and can be deployed to seek targets. In less than ten minutes the entire estate will be covered in these hovering death robots, as well as the police, guards, The Guard, and her animals.

Ruth Bingum won't have to worry about interlopers tonight.

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

"Darling, I can't let Gotham's newest and best caped crusader eat a mere cheeseburger on a night like tonight! After all you have done at the university and to keep me safe, it would be a snub of the highest regard. We have everything you could ever want. Roasted boar, peacock, quail, falcon, eagle, songbird, crane, turkey, veal pie, pork roast, filet mignon, and those are just the meats I can identify from here! Feel free to take a look around the table and take anything that strikes your fancy. I have had everything made . . . cheeseburgers being the obvious exception, I suppose," she says, smiling warmly and offering Batgirl a knowing wink.

Babs knew that the feast was meant to impress but, in fact, it had the very opposite effect. Her initial salivating hunger gone as soon as her host announced the bill of fare. Her expression hardened, in exact juxtaposition to her host’s warm and inviting smile. “I don’t mean to be rude, Ms. Bingum,” Babs addressed her, “but, by my count, fourteen of the animals you’re serving tonight are on the List of Endangered Species. The killing of any single ONE carrying a penalty of $25,000 and six months in a federal prison. I’m sure you weren’t aware of that but ignorance of the law is no excuse.”

As the crimefighter waited for the diva to explain herself, the two college girls, Sydney and Mary, had eagerly taken their seats and, with a ravenous glint in their eyes, began piling their plates. Babs had seen that look before and she was disappointed and frankly a little disgusted. It was pure, selfish greed and desire, unrestrained by any sense of right or wrong. Sydney seemed overwhelmed, in a hypnotic trance while Mary started grabbing, grabbing, grabbing, but it was clear that both girls envied the opulence before them without any concern for the moral consequences. The girls had youth for an excuse but frankly her host ought to have known better.

Despite Ms. Bingum’s assertions to the contrary, Babs would have liked nothing better than a cheeseburger and fries, this obscenity of a feast before made her want to vomit. Even the fact that the leftovers would be given to charity didn’t soften her repugnance. Babs’ opinion of her idol was changing rapidly, the rose-tinted glasses finally coming off.

Babs was about to confront her host once more when…AN EXPLOSION SHOOK THE ROOM!!!

A sudden flash of bright hot orange-red lit the chamber, a thunderous BOOM deafening their ears! Racing to the window, Babs eyes widened as a huge fireball plumed in the distance! Seems to have originated at the gatehouse! Dick! I have to get out there! She raced back to Ms. Bingum but the diva was already on the phone.

"Fine, Abraham. Upgrade to Full Security Level 3, HoverTurrets in effect. Lock down will be initiated as well. But please, replace the bullets in the Turrets with rubber ones, okay? The police are here, and I wouldn't want to leave a bad impression, or mar this lovely dinner with Batgirl."

Unbelievable! Was this woman still concerned about dinner?! “Call off your security,” Babs snapped, an edge to her voice. “We have a mass casualty event and we don’t need your ‘HoverTurrets’ or whatever they are causing any more injuries.” She needed to get to Dick, that’s what she needed to do. But her host had other ideas.

"Well dears, there appears to have been an incident at the Gatehouse Guardhouse, and we are now on lock down. Have no fear, this house is virtually impregnable, and nothing short of the Justice League could get in without my say so," she says, smiling reassuringly, her eyes betraying a hint of worry.

As if on cue, there was a loud roar, the floor shaking, as the entire manor descended, finally settling with a thump that reverberated through the walls. Babs re-activated her comm unit in her cowl, tried to hail Nightwing but got nothing but static. Babs noticed the static-y green haze that had fallen over the windows, no doubt an energy shield surrounding the mansion and interfering with comms not linked to the manor’s own channels, the crimefighter surmised.

“Ms. Bingum, I need you to deactivate your security systems. You can raise them again once I get outside but right now, I need you to turn them off. NOW.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order.

[Auphelia]

Batgirl

“I don’t mean to be rude, Ms. Bingum,” Babs addressed her, “but, by my count, fourteen of the animals you’re serving tonight are on the List of Endangered Species. The killing of any single ONE carrying a penalty of $25,000 and six months in a federal prison. I’m sure you weren’t aware of that but ignorance of the law is no excuse.”

“Call off your security,” Babs snapped, an edge to her voice. “We have a mass casualty event and we don’t need your ‘HoverTurrets’ or whatever they are causing any more injuries.” She needed to get to Dick, that’s what she needed to do. But her host had other ideas.

As if on cue, there was a loud roar, the floor shaking, as the entire manor descended, finally settling with a thump that reverberated through the walls. Babs re-activated her comm unit in her cowl, tried to hail Nightwing but got nothing but static. Babs noticed the static-y green haze that had fallen over the windows, no doubt an energy shield surrounding the mansion and interfering with comms not linked to the manor’s own channels, the crimefighter surmised.

“Ms. Bingum, I need you to deactivate your security systems. You can raise them again once I get outside but right now, I need you to turn them off. NOW.” It wasn’t a request, it was an order.

Ruth Bingum

Oh, this girl was smart, wasn't she! Despite the fact there were 22 endangered species' on the menu, she thankfully had a crackpot team of lawyers that chewed up people far more versed in the legal code than Batgirl and spit them out . . . for fun.

"Oh no! No no no no! You must understand, all of these magnificent creatures died of natural causes, and though I do not know the exact laws that allow deceased animals that my lawyers had cleared with the clerk, I will have my lawyers send the certificates and appropriate papers to your offices so you can review them. I would never do anything to harm an animal, much less eat one that had met a violent end to sate my hunger! If you must know, I thought this would be a reward for you for your hard work, so I wanted to make sure everything was here . . . ," she began to sniffle, tears welling in her eyes, making attempts in vain to quell the flow. "Except I forgot cheeseburgers! B-because of course you would have simple tastes! You're a down to earth crime fighter and I'm a terrible person who tried to give you PRIME RIB AND POTATOES AND NOW MY ABRAHAM IS IN DANGER AND YOU WON'T DIE TOO!" She collapses into the chair, tears streaming down her face, past her hands that she is trying to cover her shame with. A wonderful performance, if she does say so herself. She interjects a steel into her posture, and the stream of tears slows to a trickle and eventually stops. And now . . .

"No. This isn't," she says, wiping the tears from her face, leaving her perfect skin raw. "This isn't how this should be happening. I mean, Batgirl is here for goodness' sake!" she muses almost to herself. Suddenly she stands up, nearly knocking over the ornate chair she had been sitting in. "Batgirl. I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave the manor, not with you having only guest status during a Level 3 event. However, there is another way you can help. You are good with technology, correct? I have a safe room where there is computer access to every security measure in my estate. I'm not an expert, but I could get you manual control into the drones at the very least. But we must hurry. With the explosion, I wouldn't be surprised if Abraham put in a kill order on your friend. Come with me, please. There is nothing you can do out there without causing more lives to be put in danger."

She begins to rush out of the hall before looking back to the two girls. Mary is warily watching the situation whilst Sydney had . . . oh no.

"Miss Bingum! I can help!" Sydney said, turning towards the window and throwing two forks in quick succession, each hitting random points, causing the massive sheet of glass to shatter. When she gets to the force field she flicks her fingers oddly in a certain spot and kicks her way through the electric field, somehow. A miracle, no doubt. Ruth rushes over to the edge of the room and sees Sydney is now in some sort of controlled slide down the side of the building, straight towards the lava below. Then she jumps, twists, and lets out her dress, catching the air just right to glide over . . . and she did it. No more than a speck now.

That was. A thing. That happened.

Ruth turned to Batgirl once more. "I suppose you have to save poor Sydney as well. Mary, please stay here. Don't get any ideas. Batgirl, please follow."

She turns to run through several rooms and hallways, and 30 seconds later she is twisting a Rembrandt painting just to to reveal a panel of wall leads to a solid steel elevator door with a gauntlet of bio-metric scanning technologies. She turns to see if Batgirl has followed. She hopes so, for the girl's sake. This palace has many surprises the uninitiated could stumble into . . . and never come out of.

[Sterkistan]

Nightwing

Nightwing tore through the branches and bushes as he fled the pack of dogs, his boots pounding as he sprinted along.
He noticed the dogs had stopped though, and surrounded him as the drones came to bear on him.
"Sorry about that, but I need to see someone tonight."
He primed himself as the drones went dark, and as soon as they were spitting the foam from their nozzles he was off. Performing an alternating set of flips and twirls he was flipping toward the dogs on the perimeter. He stopped himself on his feet, ducking down and spiralling his foot into the side of one of the dogs heads.

As the drones spat the foam toward him he drew his grappling gun, firing it at the nearest drone and flicking the switch as he heard it grip the connector between one of the blades and the body of the craft. He was pulled toward it, the blades on the drone speeding up as the computer fought to correct the anomaly.
He grabbed onto the underside of the drone, flipping onto the top and pulling a chip from the computer on his glove, placing it on the top of the drone, where it adhered.
"Computer get me into the security system! I need access now! Find me a back door!"
The computer began working to bust into the security system, but it would take time.
The drone bucked forward to try and get him off,
"Woah hey, settle down there."
He grabbed the rotor guards, grunting as he twisted them to get the drone aligned with the house. he jutted the rotors forward, fighting the drone as it tried to align itself. He continued along, the drone's FoF tag preventing the others from firing on it.\

That was until there was a massive explosion from the gatehouse.
"Oh, shit." He twisted the rotors toward the gatehouse, forget Barbara. This was more important now.

The drone made it most of the way there, until the motors in the front rotors broke, and they twisted forward. His elbow and upper arm went into the blade, the rotors snapped as they smacked into his armour, but it didn't stop them from vutting into the plating and bashing his arm. The drone tilted sideways and smashed into the fence, the right-hand rotors coming off and the body crashing to the ground, protected by the tough hull plating.
Nightwing went clean into the bushes, rolling into the base of a tree and groaning as he stumbled to his feet. He walked toward the officers standing by the fireball.
"Not my prettiest entrance... What's happened?"

He also got a beep from his wrist-mounted computer, protected from the blades by the armour.
He tapped at the computer, a backdoor opened into the estate's security system. It was a tough system alright, Waynetech's best and brightest, which was inevitably their downfall.
"Let's settle this down shall we."
He uploaded his custom virus, and it began taking admin privileges from the members of the estate.
"And, walah."
He began returning the security systems to their standard configuration, hopefully the guards would think that this was an order from the top. And just to be sure, he ran interference on all the estate's radio networks.
He tried to contact Barbara again, "Barbara, what the hell's happening in there, I've just had dogs on my ass and I'm not really feeling it right now."

[United States of Brainy]

Batgirl

"Oh no! No no no no! You must understand, all of these magnificent creatures died of natural causes, and though I do not know the exact laws that allow deceased animals that my lawyers had cleared with the clerk, I will have my lawyers send the certificates and appropriate papers to your offices so you can review them. I would never do anything to harm an animal, much less eat one that had met a violent end to sate my hunger! If you must know, I thought this would be a reward for you for your hard work, so I wanted to make sure everything was here . . . ," she began to sniffle, tears welling in her eyes, making attempts in vain to quell the flow. "Except I forgot cheeseburgers! B-because of course you would have simple tastes! You're a down to earth crime fighter and I'm a terrible person who tried to give you PRIME RIB AND POTATOES AND NOW MY ABRAHAM IS IN DANGER AND YOU WON'T DIE TOO!" She collapses into the chair, tears streaming down her face, past her hands that she is trying to cover her shame with. A wonderful performance, if she does say so herself. She interjects a steel into her posture, and the stream of tears slows to a trickle and eventually stops. And now . . .

Ms. Bingum was losing it. And despite everything, Babs couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sympathy. Her story about the animals seemed far-fetched but if she had the appropriate documentation then there wasn’t much she could do. It still wasn’t 100 percent right but it would be legal. Her host sank into a chair, her body language one of utter defeat. Babs laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder but lost in her misery, it seemed the diva hardly noticed. Babs wished she had time to comfort the distraught lady but lives were in danger, including Dick’s! She hated to have to resort to force and even if she did manage to pry the phone away from Ruth, there was still the matter of the bio-metric locks and the verbal authorization required to disable the security systems. Better if she could coax the phone away from Ruth…

"No. This isn't," she says, wiping the tears from her face, leaving her perfect skin raw. "This isn't how this should be happening. I mean, Batgirl is here for goodness' sake!" she muses almost to herself. Suddenly she stands up, nearly knocking over the ornate chair she had been sitting in. "Batgirl. I cannot in good conscience allow you to leave the manor, not with you having only guest status during a Level 3 event. However, there is another way you can help. You are good with technology, correct? I have a safe room where there is computer access to every security measure in my estate. I'm not an expert, but I could get you manual control into the drones at the very least. But we must hurry. With the explosion, I wouldn't be surprised if Abraham put in a kill order on your friend. Come with me, please. There is nothing you can do out there without causing more lives to be put in danger."

A kill order! The crimefighter couldn’t hide the alarm on her face. “Quick! Let’s go!” she insisted, allowing Ms. Bingum to lead the way. The diva’s suggestion was a damn good one, Babs kicked herself for not thinking of it on her own! With the security drones and the rest of the estate’s security systems at her disposal, Babs had no doubt she could end this emergency without any further injury to any one else. Plus, she could get to the bottom of what was happening, whether the explosion had been an accident or the start of something larger. Hang on, Dick, help’s on the way!

"Miss Bingum! I can help!" Sydney said, turning towards the window and throwing two forks in quick succession, each hitting random points, causing the massive sheet of glass to shatter. When she gets to the force field she flicks her fingers oddly in a certain spot and kicks her way through the electric field, somehow. A miracle, no doubt. Ruth rushes over to the edge of the room and sees Sydney is now in some sort of controlled slide down the side of the building, straight towards the lava below. Then she jumps, twists, and lets out her dress, catching the air just right to glide over . . . and she did it. No more than a speck now.

OH NO!!! “STOP!!!”

Babs raced back but the girl has already, somehow, broken through the force field and well…just…glided…away. Okay, now I’ve seen everything!”

Ruth turned to Batgirl once more. "I suppose you have to save poor Sydney as well. Mary, please stay here. Don't get any ideas. Batgirl, please follow."

Racing down a maze of corridors and hallways, they finally stopped in front of a Rembrandt painting, Syndics of the Drapers Guild. To Babs’ amazement, as if anything could amaze her any longer about Ruth Bingum, the painting hinged to the side, revealing…a secret passageway, whaddaya know. The passageway ended in an armored elevator. “You’re not a supervillain, are you?” Babs chuckled as she entered the elevator and they both descended to who knows where…

[Auphelia]

Batgirl
Racing down a maze of corridors and hallways, they finally stopped in front of a Rembrandt painting, Syndics of the Drapers Guild. To Babs’ amazement, as if anything could amaze her any longer about Ruth Bingum, the painting hinged to the side, revealing…a secret passageway, whaddaya know. The passageway ended in an armored elevator. “You’re not a supervillain, are you?” Babs chuckled as she entered the elevator and they both descended to who knows where…

Ruth Bingum

"No, I am no villain, just a woman with a long line of paranoid ancestors and a lot to have stolen."

Suddenly the elevator stopped and the lights went out. A dull red glow from the emergency light flared on.

"What in the world?" Ruth pulled out her phone and saw the alert. This was bad, really bad. "It would appear that someone has hacked my security system and reset everything to default. WITHOUT REVERSING IN THE PROPER ORDER! The sea life, all of it, covered in lava! The containment doors for the animals opened, flooding the cages and killing all of them! Whoever this idiot is, they have caused over 17 unique species' to go extinct in one fell swoop." She paused as the building lurched. "And the lava is now free to flow without the walls to stop it. Meaning my house is now being flooded with lava, and my gardens are on fire, and thousands of HoverDrones are coming back to roost, to add to the bonfire, with us trapped inside."

She couldn't even describe her fury at this moment. Whoever this was, she would make them PAY.

"Phone, trace hacker."

She prepared to wait but the response was almost immediate. It was . . . "NIGHTHAWK!!!"

She seethed, too angry for words. All across the estate, thousands of animals who hadn't been in their cages and billions of insects flew up in a fury, irritated beyond all imagination. Nothing would be safe against their attacks. They became a hurricane, a vortex, and Ruth didn't care. Someone had just destroyed her life's work, her collection of animals, and sentenced tens of thousands of innocent animals to die.

She would have Nighthawk's head.

And then she would feed it to her dogs.

Then, like a cool breeze to soothe her rage, a thought flew into her head. The vortex died down almost as soon as it began. She cast out her range of power and realised something quite wonderful, truly amazing indeed!

"Wait. I can fix this! Phone, how much time do you need to regain control of the system?"

The phone beeped and in a matter of seconds had regained control. Ugh, hackers! They loved to break in but always forgot to set up their own defences once they were in.

"Phone, shut the outer doors to the animal enclosures, now! And set every non-flaming building to hover, as soon as possible! Initiate Fire Protocols in any burning building."

The phone beeped twice and suddenly the elevator, nay, the whole room they were in lurched. A few seconds later the elevator's lights returned to normal and it continued down to the Safe Room. Ruth turned to Batgirl, explaining what had just happened, to put the hero at ease.

"Batgirl, I think the animals are saved. Given the angle of the cages, the fact they were filled with air, and the fact the moat had risen so high, I don't think many of the habitats actually flooded! Hopefully. We'll be able to know more once we get into the Safe Room."

She checked the elevator number as it sank into the rest of the building, and braced herself as it came to an abrupt halt. Then the doors opened, leading into her Safe Room and security centre, a technological wonder on par with the HoverPanels.

"Welcome Batgirl, to my own personal Batcave."

[Lic]

Tim Drake
Tim’s bike raced towards the tiny dot on the bike screen that represented Barbara’s location. Bristol Manor. Who knew that Barbara Gordon, of all people, wanted to dine with high society? As he weaved in and out of Gotham City’s traffic, a thought occurred to him.
“Alfred,” he said through his bike’s communication system, “you did say Dick is with Barb, right?”
“Indeed, Master Timothy. It is unclear, though, if he’s with her or...I’m not enlightened at this point of what he’s doing,” Alfred replies.
“Ok. I’ll try giving Nightwing a call then, alright?”
“Very good, sir.” The line disconnected. Tim then went through his comm system and found the emergency contact for Dick Grayson. Geez, Tim thought, It’s been a while since I’ve talked to Dick. This is going to be awkward.

“Er, Dick! Hey pal. Long time no talk. Uh, listen...sorry there’s no time to catch up now. Say, why’re you up at Bristol? Yeah, Alfred noticed. Hey, are you ok? Sounded like barking back there! Listen up, I’m racing over to Bristol Manor to help you and, I’m assuming, Barb out with whatever you’re doing —”
Just as Tim was finishing up with Nightwing, a call was coming in from Alfred.
“Um, Dick, listen...I’ll call back, ok?” The line fizzled out.

“Alfred, what is it?”
“Master Timothy, a situation has been detected at the Gotham Harbor. I’m unclear on details right now, but from what I know it’s a League of Shadows related scenario.”
“Ok, I’m checking it ou....”
Just as Tim was finishing his sentence and approaching the estate, he saw a massive exp,Osian occur beyond the gates of the Manor. He gazed at it in calm shock.
“Alfred. I’m going to have to check in with you later, stay alert.”
“Yes, Sir, Oh, and you may be interested to know that Master Damian has hurried off again.”
“Oh boy. Find out where he is for me. Make sure he doesn’t do anything that’ll get himself hurt.” Tim was always worried about Damian. He knew Bruce would never forgive him if something happened to Damian.
Alfred gave his classic reply, “Very good, Sir.”

[Haedros 92712]

Park row
The Crooked Man

I can smell it. The unmistakable fetid scent of humans. The scent of the rot they invoke. The blood they shed, the tears they cry. I smell it all on this dark night, in a place full of blood, tears, and rot. Humans have a strange way of things. They name the most insubstantial things, such as locations. I believe they call this place “Crime Alley...” Yes... there is no mistaking it... humans despair here. A gunshot in the distance. Another worthless being leaves this world... wrenched away by those who are his brother of flesh... Then a figure passed by... a young human of the female gender. Another creature for me to purge... The Crooked Man left his hiding place. His lips peeled back in his horrific grin. A scream was heard on Park Row. It was left alone, and never mentioned by those lucky few who woke in the morning.

[The Mank]

Damian Wayne
With a quick duck, leg grab, and drop kick, Damian had a band of drug smugglers and anarchist assassins tied up and ready for pickup by the GCPD. Damian fake-yawned.
“You guys didn’t even try,” he taunted. “Well, at least I got to stretch my legs.” Just as Damian was basking in the joy of seeing the criminals failing to flip him off, a call from the Batcave was coming in.
“Mmm. Tim, whaddya want?”
“This Alfred, your humble servant, Master Damian. What are you occupied with at the moment?”
“Um...drug stuff. I’m near where Ace Chem used to be.”
“In that case, Master Timothy and I would demand you to return back to the Manor promptly and without argument,” Alfred icily and sternly said.
“Ugh, Alfred, I’m getting tons of petty thieves in this area! Cmon Al, let me stay, just for a little longer,” Damian whined.
“Actually, I’d like you back home for a different reason. An increasingly urgent situation is being seen on the docks, and I’d think you’ll be the expert on this one.” Alfred said with an edge to his voice.
Expert? Well, that’s a first.
“Ok, Alfred. I’ll be home soon, just making a pit stop at Gotham University to make sure everyone’s ok there. You know, the attack and everything.”
“Very well. Be quick, alright? Don’t waste any time.”
“You have my word Alfred.”
Damian hopped in his car and zoomed off to the University.

Robin
Damian dashed up the stairs at the University. Several desks and chairs littered the staircase; he leaped over the obstacles. He just needed to make a quick check on each floor that no civilians were trapped inside or injured. He checked under the occasional fallen shelf, shoveled through the piles of rubble...when he spotted him.

A tall chap in a blue and red armored suit was vanishing and reappearing in and out of the rubble, helping students out. Wait. No. He wasn’t disappearing. He was shrinking.

“Well well well, if it isn’t the Atom.” Damian let out. You’ve got a ton of explaining to do, don’t ya...”

[Bycrest]

The Riddler & Merrymaker
Gotham Harbor- 10:53 P.M.

Riddler and Merrymaker drove up to the outskirts of the docks under the cover of night and in full costume. Riddler had already informed Echo and Query about their part in the mission should it come to that, so they were waiting in their designated positions. With all the reconnaissance Riddler did, the two villains had a good layout of the area and made they their way to a position that overlooked the freighter. Riddler looked through a pair of binoculars to survey the ship below and watched as workers moved about the ship.

"I'd wager that those are the League of Shadows ninjas working down there." Riddler said, handing Merrymaker the binoculars. "Well, we better not waste any time, strap on the stealth gear and try to find the box, meet up back here if you haven't found it within the hour. Most importantly, don't get caught, you'll likely be tortured if you're not killed on the spot."

With that, Riddler slipped on his stealth gear and headed down to the ship, activating it as he went. There were two things that he'd left out of the information he told Merrymaker; one was that he intended to take the box for himself. A puzzle like that deserved to be owned and beaten by the best and brightest, not put on a shelf by some geezer that was probably playing them for a fool. The other thing Riddler had neglected to mention was that he had no intention of going through with their partnership. He would go on with his own plan and didn't care if Merrymaker got caught in the cross fire.

Before he got too close to the boat, Riddler radioed in to Echo and Query who were waiting for his signal. "Make sure you get the boat ready, we'll need a quick escape for this one. And when I give the signal, send in the robots to distact the League. Whatever's in that box will be mines."

[Tamrida]

The Merrymaker
The Merrymaker soon followed after the Riddler, his entire plague doctor styled costume becoming cloaked in a shield of invisibility, something Dr. Meredith wondered how it worked. As he approached the vans with dock workers loading unknown goods into them. He decided that this would be a good place to put one of his backup plans, and quickly and carefully, he attached a powerful explosive device to the underside of two of the vehicles before entering inside the ship, trying his hardest to remain undetected. He managed to enter into the ship, yet decided to plant the rest of his explosives before seriously searching the ship, scanning the engine room, cargo hold, and other places below deck with no sign of it. He managed to hide his explosives by mergeing them into the mechanisms of the ship and behind wall panels that he managed to unhinge and then reattach, making it nearly impossible to spy them unless intentionally searching the devices out. He knew that the case would be too special to be in a simple crate or cargo hold, and he decided to head up to the captain's room for clues on where it might be.

[Ormata]

Father Frost
Otisburg

The apartment was full of smoke, the curtains pulled shut and the bed somewhat stained. It was cheap, unbearably cheap and insufferably annoying, but it was also a place one would normally not find such strange things as Slava was. One normally did not expect mercenaries in such locations. He’d chosen the place specifically for that very reason, though the Russian did not expect to find a good bit of resistance. He expected the people to be docile, to be submissive in a manner, and he had most certainly not gotten that. The man sat on the bed, just a light shirt on and a cigarette between his fingers.

Manager apparently didn’t like smoke. She stood in front of him, two thugs on either side, arms crossed. Lady most certainly also wasn’t pleased with him, no not at all, and she expressed it verbally. “You need to pay. Been here a week without paying and I will get my fucking money, one way or another.” Her eyes narrowed in an annoying sort of manner, like how a pig eyes it’s next meal, and the fact that the eyes were beady didn’t help that. Slava sighed in his response, shaking his head.

“Was that a threat?” His voice lacked a good bit of the connotations that Russian accents normally had. Slava was also not pleased with her; she was a shrew, in his opinion, didn’t give him enough respect. No, she didn’t at all. The Russian took another drag of his cigarette, the light as though a little candle in the darker room. The only light on her side was the door cracked, a shard of brightness piercing-through and over the stained carpet and kitchen tile.

“Damn right it was. You owe me money. Seven hundred, now.”

Blowing smoke up into the air, Slava got-up from his seated position. He wasn’t much taller than the others, not by a long shot, though his body spoke of a bit of action. The plain shirt and blue jeans did nothing to dissuade any observer from that fact. “No, I think you’re mistaken on that.”

“Really? That so?”

“That’s so.”

A sharp jerk of the neck was all it took to send the two thugs in. The first came at him with a brute force right haymaker, a train of a blow that’d lay-out most people in one punch. The man didn’t make any noise, not when he threw the punch, not when he approached, not during the altercation. Slava countered, grabbing a hold of the man’s arm and jerking it along as he stepped out of the way. A knife flashed out from a little sheath, out and playing in Slava’s hand before it was punched once, twice, three times in the space of a second and some change into the man’s side. The thug still made no noise, just falling to the floor as Slava whipped-around to see the other man charging at him, football style, intending to pin him against the wall and murder him there. A stab to the side brought the man to rest, the knife biting and penetrating his skull with a heave, the body moving forward of no volition but inertia’s. The Russian sidestepped the corpse, clipped just a bit as he did so. Didn’t step cleanly or quickly enough; damn shame. That sort of thing wouldn’t have happened in the younger days. The corpse splayed itself out against the couch, laying there face first. Grabbing the knife, bracing himself against the corpse by placing a foot against the still warm carcass, Slava tugged the damn bayonet free, blood covering the length of it’s blade. The body hit the carpet with a dull whump, splayed-out and crimson slowly spreading down and over the ear in rivulets, fast-running as though a waterfall.

“See...I think I deserve a free room. I’m still paying you by not killing you, you know.” He spoke quieter now, low and quiet and yet still reaching every point in the room. The Russian was lightly heaving from the exertion; despite the moves, well, it was still an exercise he hadn’t done in a bit. Normal, everyday knife fighting was something you practiced and hoped you wouldn’t need and Slava most certainly didn’t make it a necessary thing in his life.

The Manager stood there, stood there and said nothing but a frozen look on her face. The man took a step forward, drops of blood staining the carpet and lips pursed. “Say nothing to the police. Have the rest of your people clean this,” Slava motioned to the corpses, “this shit up. And remember...I will always be listening. Always. Don’t get yourself killed over a cheap apartment room, like how you got these two pieces of shit killed. Do you understand?”

One nod. She scurried out of the room.

After making sure both of the thugs were dead, especially the first with a series of cuts against the man’s throat with almost surgical apathy, Slava cleaned his knife on one of the corpses jacket, whistling as he cleaning the weapon for blood once again and putting it away. He opened a bottle of vodka, mediocre stuff that was most certainly American, pouring himself a drink in a little glass cup. Then the phone rang, the little flip-phone Slava had bought for his working calls that was fucking annoying as all hell with the ringtone. Slava answered. The voice on the other end was rough and hard, a little British accent that denoted the caller as whom he thought it was.

“Are you available? Tomorrow night. Gotham Harbor. 10pm,” the Penguin asked. “If you are, I have a job for you….”

“I’m always available. Give me the details.” Slava knew the man from before, a few deals from before, and listened intently for the details. He’d be getting paid extra, too. Interesting. Very interesting. Slava didn’t often take jobs from Mr. Cobblepot, no not at all considering the greater distances that normally spanned between the two of them, but he knew that the man was well and truly a criminal who had other criminals do his dirty work. The man was in many ways a coward, but he was also most certainly a well-paying coward. All the man had was his money and his word, and in a world where his word meant rather little his money was all that was left. Slava bargained a half-now, half-later deal out of the man, though, just to be safe that Mr. Cobblepot wouldn’t skimp on him. Just for insurance.

---

Father Frost
Red Herring Bar
9:41 PM

Slava needed muscle. There was only so much a singular person could do and yes, there was a hell of a lot of people who enjoyed breaking things yet did not enjoy wearing a stupid damned mask, a stupid damned getup, or following the orders of some maniac who had a slight grasp upon the concepts of such things as sanity. There were way, way too many insane people who made stupid, stupid requests, and frankly some people had gotten tired of it. A good few were with Cobblepot, the man having a good deal of common sense compared to his stranger counterparts such as The Riddler. That bastard loved planting fucking evidence at the scene of a crime, always. Just swallow your ego at get on with it, thought Slava, get over yourself. Big ego bastards.

He entered the bar, a lower-roof place that was in all reality built into the basement of another place with a little staircase leading down to it, and saw the potential goons there. All Slava needed were people who’d blend-in reasonably with the dockworkers that he expected to find there, big men with big muscles who had poor, poor faces and somber demeanors. There were a few of those at the bar, looking down enough on their luck yet suspicious of the random bastard who’d arrived at their bar. The Red Herring was out of the way, after all, and hell it wasn’t even advertised on the more modern methods of finding shit, such as Google Maps. The place was a hole-in-the-wall, pure undercover joint that more than likely catered to either the microbrew hippies or the criminal elements. Slava nearly expected both.

“Hell do you want?” Muttered one guy, taking a quick swig of his beer.

“Just a few hands. Dirty work these days and a lot of bodies need to be moved, if you know my meaning.” Slava’s accent bled through the tense atmosphere, some suspicion being stirred-up. One guy with the group, likely the near-elder with his graying hair and lesser body compared to his fellow bodybuilders, a leather jacket and blue jeans making a strange combination with his black combat boots, whipped his head around like he’d been slapped. His eyes were spooked, too, little too wide and a little too intent. The man looked to old enough to have served in Vietnam, had the look in his eyes, too.

“You a fuckin Commie?”

“I’m asking to hire some people, not start the next revolution. No, I am not a fucking Commie, McCarthy,” came a more bitter response. The Bratva were strictly Capitalist, after all, working their ways for profit and gain, not fucking starving farmers. Was an insult to Slava’s being, that comment. He swallowed it, though.

“Good. Nice to see some reformed folk.” The wild-eyed was more somber with that comment, turning back to nurse his drink. “What’s the pay? What’s the job?”

“One hundred USD, per man, per hour, job might take three hours at best. Just got to move some bodies along the waterfront.”

That perked the ears up, both with the group Slava was talking to and with the bar in entirety, really. He had no shortage of recruits after that comment. By the end of the ten minutes, it was nearly like a talent competition, though in fairness the Russian hired nearly the bar’s patronage in total. Man nearly felt bad for the waitress and bartender, considering they were losing their customers to a good degree. Nearly. Might pay one of the pretty ladies a visit later-on as an apology. He did like the legs, that was for sure.

Slava took another look. Yes, most definitely pay a visit. That was that.

---

Father Frost
Gotham Harbor
10:52 PM

He’d gotten there two hours earlier, a delivery truck holding the man’s suit, and at a closed building he’d set-up his little observation region. A few cameras were there, there up and up in the dark glass of the office building, zoomed-in to watch where the cargo vessel was to be, and on his phone he saw them running-about on the deck of the vessel. Looked to be a good few, most of them moving with little to no hassle, little to no difficulty in the sheer locomotion of movement. Assassins. Figures. As far as Slava was concerned, they were just more targets to be killed. The men he’d sent down were already well and fully prepared, all garbed in street-rat clothing and shit that’d make a dockworker a dockworker, and all armed to the teeth. He’d nearly ran out of a few guns, all things considered, but hell. Uzis were rather easy to get those days, rather easy to get and rather easy to conceal with their shorter lengths compared to most. All it took was a thicker coat and boom, you had a man taking a walk, nothing more.

Slava could see the various teams moving, all ready for the signal. One team was taking a rather slow walk on the pier, alongside the cargo ship target. They were told what to do, and were somewhat vetted to insure that each had played some form of throwing sport and that they did, in fact, know how to throw a damn ball. A grenade was a bit different than a ball, but hey fuck it. It was as close as Slava could get without asking “Who’s committed treasonous acts”. They knew their job and they knew it well; it was a pretty simple job, after all.

Another crew was beginning to move into the warehouse, armed with Uzis and with strict orders to get in there and murder the hell out of any asshole from the ship. Each of them was also armed with an oil filter, modified to act as an ersatz suppressor. Granted it wouldn’t do enough in the way of actually being a suppressor, those things being professionally made being far more preferred, yet it was a damn bitch to get one of those things into the US, not to mention getting it into Gotham itself. The oil filters were easier, and besides that, Slava didn’t much expect those bastards to get their own job done. They were distractions to keep people contained where they could be otherwise murdered. Various other crews kept on moving into position.

Gasoline containers were nearby, too, and they looked close enough to the cargo ship to deal a good bit of damage. Slava made note of that bit. He started to get into his suit, quietly, carefully, and watching the cameras for any sort of change.

[The Democratic Marxists]

The Atom
Ray had just burst out of a pile of rubble when he heard the voice.

Robin
“Well well well, if it isn’t the Atom.” Damian let out. “You’ve got a ton of explaining to do, don’t ya...”

“What are you...like, the 500th Robin?” Ray sneered. The kid had talked to him in a somewhat arrogant and self righteous way. Look, Ray knew Ace Chemicals had collapsed. But it was an old warehouse anyway. Why was everyone giving him such a hard time about it?

“Look, I’m sorry about Ace, I knew Wayne was buying it and all. But, see, I saved the entire Otisburg District at the cost of one building. You often have to make decisions like that when dealing with biochemical weaponry,” Ray tried to explain. He examined the kid, top to bottom. He was only, like, 5’ 6”. Ray could take this guy easily in a fight. He spoke again to the little tough guy.

“Look, what are you gonna do...arrest me? Superheroes have to deal with this collateral stuff all the time! I’m sure Batsy has had his fair share of building demolishment. Get over it!”

He wasn’t quite sure if Robin was gonna get over it.

[United States of Brainy]

The League
Gotham Harbor- 10:53pm

Silence.

An easy enough concept to grasp. People think they have an understanding of what it means to be silent but in this regard, like many others, they prove themselves woefully inadequate. Silence, true silence, takes years to master. A lifetime even. The shadow assassins inside the warehouse had mastered true silence. The men that had entered to kill them had not.

Oh, they thought they were being quiet, creeping around in the dark. But to the trained ear, they might as well as had tin cans tied around their ankles. These clumsy men who called themselves killers but were not, who carried weapons without being weapons themselves, were about to get an object lesson in what true silence really means.

One with the dark, stealthy forms slid down rope lines, swords drawn. Surrounding the intruders, they landed on light feet mere inches behind their unwitting targets. In unison, they struck, a single swipe of the blade each. Only in death would their victims finally achieve that true silence for themselves.

As for the men heading down the pier toward the Nanda Dawn? Grenades at the ready and dark deeds on their minds? Pffft-pffft-pffft-pffft. Poison darts, again from the assassins inside the warehouse. Firing from top floor windows, silent death awaited these men with the prick of a needle.

Ubu surveyed all this. With narrowed eyes, he spoke one word. The word traveled through air, through comm channels, to every single shadow warrior and agent on the pier and on the ship.

“Go.”

Instantly, smoke grenades dropped everywhere. A thick, impenetrable fog shrouded the pier and the ship and the warehouses. The artificial cloud made visibility impossible, except for the warriors of the League who wore specially filtered goggles. Not that sight was absolutely essential. A shadow ninja had learned long ago how to see as well with his other senses as he could with his eyes.

They fanned out. All of them except for Ubu's personal detail and those guarding the hostages on ship and on shore. The vans were also guarded and overwatch still provided on the ship and the buildings. For the rest, they fanned out, throughout the pier, skipping across rooftops, running as if floating on the rotted boards of the pier. With one single mission- to hunt down and slaughter every single one of these men remaining that dared to raise their hand against the League of Shadows.

[Bycrest]

The Riddler

Riddler was skulking around the docks, searching the warehouse near the docks and any supply crates that where brought in. So far he hadn't seen any sign of the box and was starting to think Penguin had set them up. It was then that he starting hearing a commotion coming from the pier near the ship.

"Well, it seems someone has wandered into the League of Shadows' web, I wonder if it was Merrymaker. If so, then he probably won't last long. Riddler thought to himself.

He looked around the area to make sure there wasn't anyone in the immediate area, and hastily move farther out of the docks. "Seems like things are starting to kick off, send in the surprise." Riddler radioed over the Echo and Query.

Off on the outskirts of the docks, Echo and Query were waiting in a truck for Riddler to call them. Once they received the go ahead, they open the back of the truck to let out a couple dozens of robotic penguins, each set the remotely exploded when they either reach a desired location or were interfered with. A majority of them were programmed to detonate within the ship and others were duds just to keep people guessing. Whatever was going on down at the pier was going to get a rude interruption when these started going off.

"Now to keep searching for that box. If it's not in any crates, that must mean someone is carrying it, and I'll get it off their corpse if I have to." Riddler said as he moved back towards the freighter.

[The Mank]

Robin

“What are you...like, the 500th Robin?”

What impertinence! Damian despised Atom’s dismissive attitude towards him. “You’re not some bigshot either. It’s not like you’re a Justice League member or something!” Damian shot back. “And at least I’m doing hero work. You’re a criminal now!”

“Look, I’m sorry about Ace, I knew Wayne was buying it and all. But, see, I saved the entire Otisburg District at the cost of one building. You often have to make decisions like that when dealing with biochemical weaponry.”

“Yeah, but it’s your responsibility to make sure you fight crime without breaking shit! You should have reported the biochem stuff to the Disciples. We could have prevented this as a team. But no, you had to moonlight as some emo lonely vigilante! This ones on you. And you stole the car.”

“Look, what are you gonna do...arrest me? Superheroes have to deal with this collateral stuff all the time! I’m sure Batsy has had his fair share of building demolishment. Get over it!”

“Get over it? Get over it? You just nicked and wrecked the DA’s car and destroyed a building which was gonna give hundreds of people jobs, and you’re telling me to get over it? Of course I’m bringing you in! Red Robin and the Disciples will deal with you.”

Damian, being the hothead that he was, had a feeling that Atom wasn’t going to go down without a fight. Damian preferred to be the one pulling the punches first. He quickly dropped a few moves: a couple of kicks, an uppercut, and an attempted tackle. Damian pulled out a pair of handcuffs and wanted to lock Atom’s hands up. He really hoped Atom wouldn’t shrink on him. Then it would be game over.

[The Democratic Marxists]

The Atom
Ooh boy. The kid was spunky, Ray had to give him that.

“Get over it? Get over it? You just nicked and wrecked the DA’s car and destroyed a building which was gonna give hundreds of people jobs, and you’re telling me to get over it? Of course I’m bringing you in! Red Robin and the Disciples will deal with you.”

“Kid, I’m giving you three seconds to walk away before this gets messy.” Ray warned. He expected that Robin would stay and whine some more. But what Ray really wasn’t prepared for was the fight fest. The first kick landed in Ray’s stomach, but he was wearing an armored suit. He blocked the other few kicks. Ray didn’t fight back aggressively because he really didn’t want this moronic angsty teen to seriously get hurt. Unfortunately for Ray, the only body part of his that was exposed was his jaw. So when the uppercut punch landed on the bottom of Ray’s face, he was caught off guard and fell to the ground. He would have shrunk earlier, but he was so unprepared for this fight that he hadn’t thought of it.
Oh man, that kid’s got some serious knuckles, Ray thought as he lay on the floor. His mouth was bleeding, and his jaw throbbed. He pushed himself back up for a bigger shot at the kid, only to stagger and fall again. The kid had tackled him.

Ray could feel the shackles closing over his hands. That’s when the world went black.