2012-07-01 Stark Expo - Assassin!

It's been a great expo...and a great trip. The expo, though, is almost over. That's disappointing to those who love it, who would like to live this kind of life all the time. This is the last gasp, and the crowds mill around as the daylight starts to fade, only to be replaced by neon and floodlights, by the brilliance of the future in all of its form. This is a place of dreams...and although the expo itself will fade out very soon, the dreams will likely remain.

With only light security to protect them, trusting in the convention security, the police, both on and off duty, who are protecting the crowds, Governor Charles Sometimes strolls with his daughter, Marissa. It would be odd to see him here...a man rather known for clinging to the past and nostalgic, possibly imaginary, good old days...and it's clear which of the two of them has the lights in her eyes, which of the two is fascinated by this place. "Hold on! I don't think I've checked out that stall yet!" And it's almost over...she can't possibly miss anything. She detaches herself from her father's side to move over towards a flying car. A prototype, of course...and it does nothing to address the real problem with flying cars. Teaching people to safely drive the things. "Isn't it beautiful!" she enthuses, which elicits a smile from her father.

It's been a great expo...and a great trip. The expo, though, is almost over. That's disappointing to those who love it, who would like to live this kind of life all the time. This is the last gasp, and the crowds mill around as the daylight starts to fade, only to be replaced by neon and floodlights, by the brilliance of the future in all of its form. This is a place of dreams...and although the expo itself will fade out very soon, the dreams will likely remain.

With only light security to protect them, trusting in the convention security, the police, both on and off duty, who are protecting the crowds, Governor Charles Sometimes strolls with his daughter, Marissa. It would be odd to see him here...a man rather known for clinging to the past and nostalgic, possibly imaginary, good old days...and it's clear which of the two of them has the lights in her eyes, which of the two is fascinated by this place. "Hold on! I don't think I've checked out that stall yet!" And it's almost over...she can't possibly miss anything. She detaches herself from her father's side to move over towards a flying car. A prototype, of course...and it does nothing to address the real problem with flying cars. Teaching people to safely drive the things. "Isn't it beautiful!" she enthuses, which elicits a smile from her father.

Barbara Gordon has been having a blast at the Expo. She already has a loooong list of nifty gadgets her alter-ego, Oracle, will be purchasing to add to her wealth of equipment in the Gotham Clock Tower. Tonight, the redhead is wearing a costume, because she is just that kind of geek. She's dressed up as Ariel from the Little Mermaid, which seems to make the wheelchair make a level of sense. It's hard to get by on land with a tail instead of legs. She's currently perusing the vehicles herself, chatting with one of the Stark Industries techies there to explain things. "Do you think it can be modified for all hand controls?" she asks, enthusiastically. He is busy staring at her seashells.

Well... Dr. McCoy had mentioned to Scott that he was planning to attend the expo. Of course, he hadn't planned to put it off quite so long. But then, a mad scientist's work is never done. Unlike many of the people in attendance, Hank's attire was rather professional... though he had at least had the common sense to ditch the labcoat at the office. Of course, the best thing about fairs and expos like this... the charming booths that crop up that will deep fry anything you can imagine. Hank savoring a deep fried Twinkie as he milled around the scientific exhibits. He was always somewhat on edge though, that was just his nature. After all, you don't hide an obvious physical mutation like his without being careful.

Pepper Potts is passing by the flying car exhibit on her way to deal with some minor problem or other. The expo is a wonder for the visitors, but keeping things at least LOOKING like they are moving smoothly takes a LOT of work behind the scenes. She's been doing her part to keep everything moving along. As she's passing by a voice asking about the flying car crosses her hearing and the LACK of a reply is what draws her attention. She detours to step around the gobsmacked young man and smile a hello to the mermaid-attired woman. "Hello. I'm sure ... Doug here can answer your questions," she says, putting a hand on the young man's arm to snap him out of staring.

Frederick has mostly been using the Expo as a calorie bonanza. With his particular sort of lifestyle, one never knows where one might find a consistent stream of munchies. For everything perishable, he also snags a bag of pretzels, a can of soup, something appropriate for long term storage and consumption. However, he has also been taking mental notes. Things to try, things to possibly try to incorporate into his own alter-ego. The experience at the press conference taught him that he still needed more options. Gassing a room full of reporters would not have been an advantage, and while he has learned just enough hand to hand skill to hurt himself, he will probably always be dependent on whatever tricks he can weld, borrow, or steal for the AIDOS. For his part, he hasn't dressed up in anything resembling cosplay, but then the dark jacket and glasses he wears might lead one to confuse him with a Matrix clone.

Of course, its then that Frederick wanders into the personal space of one Hank McCoy. And....his shoes. It is an accidental look down, but he cannot help but stare. Its only after thoroughly studying them that he looks up at the Doctor and....oh. Wow that must have looked really strange. Truth be told, what he WAS thinking about was how he might incorporate further agility augmentation or dexterity to the foot design of the AIDOS. What he manages, however is something completely and utterly less related to vigilantism, heroism, or anything resembling a normal greeting. "Uh...do you know if I could get something similar in a size 11 and a half?"

Marissa is still squee'ing over the cars, her father not far behind her. She grins at the woman in the wheelchair, flickering a hi to her. Hoping not to be recognized as famous, despite the bodyguards. Only two of them, one of them a woman. And both hanging back near her father.

Between this stall and the next, there is an alleyway. The extremely perceptive who happen to look in the right direction at the right (or wrong) time might see a faint shimmer, akin rather to a heat wave. Marissa leans forward a little, towards the car. The picture of teenaged enthusiasm, albeit about a subject the stereotypical girl she rather resembles would not show such liveliness about. She's an odd combination of femininity and geekery.

Babs smiles at Pepper warmly. "Thank you. I was just wondering if the vehicle controls could be modified for hand-use only." She gestures at the wheelchair with one hand. "The chair isn't because of the tail. And it's not that I can actually afford one of Mister Stark's awesome toys, but I was curious if they'd ever be ADA compatible." She blinks at the Governor's wave and waves back. Most people probably wouldn't recognize him but, this is Oracle we're talking about. She has a photographic memory. And she reads the news.

Babs smiles at Pepper warmly. "Thank you. I was just wondering if the vehicle controls could be modified for hand-use only." She gestures at the wheelchair with one hand. "The chair isn't because of the tail. And it's not that I can actually afford one of Mister Stark's awesome toys, but I was curious if they'd ever be ADA compatible." She blinks at the Governor's daughter's wave and waves back. Most people probably wouldn't recognize thembut, this is Oracle we're talking about. She has a photographic memory. And she reads the news.

Dr. McCoy, who looks fairly normal at the moment, other than cobalt blue hair, just offers a curious blink at the man asking about his shoes. While they were slightly larger in design than most people, it's not like they were clown shoes. Hank's feet basically forced into fists inside to make them as small as possible. "Excuse me?" Hank asked, giving the young man an annoyed gruff, not at all wanting to discuss his shoes. "You can buy them at any shoe store. And if that was a pick-up line, I'd consider working on your delivery." Hank turned to walk toward the people gathered around Stark's flying car.

Pepper Potts returns "Ariel"'s smile, glancing at the vehicle briefly before offering what little she knows about this particular exhibit. "I'd have to check, but I believe that all Stark vehicles can be modified for ADA compatibility. If you like, I can check with the R&D group early next week and let you know." She brandishes a tablet computer and a stylus, apparently ready to pencil the request into her calendar.

Flying cars...right. Seeing as he's probably been labeled creepy and probably a jerk, Frederick moves to stand as far apart and away from the good Doctor as possible. No doubt it was meant to cover something up, and he had probably picked the worst time and the worst way to broach 'Hey, I'd like to take whatever your foot actualy is and see if I can't adapt it to a human shoe/boot' (Not that there IS a good way to do that). Probably a sign that he should probably practice socializing more. "It...I didn't mean any offense." He manages, even as the good Doctor wanders off. Still, he has a good view of flying cars, and were he the Batmobile sort he might be a trifle more interested. But it seems to be the in thing people are doing right now, so Frederick prepares to ooh and ahh with the rest. Besides, its a flying car. Its just cool.

Flying cars are cool. Shimmers in alleyways...less so, but nobody seems to have seen this one. Which is very definitely not cool. Charles walks up to his daughter and hugs her for a moment. "Maybe I'll get you one, but you'll have to prove you can drive it first." Marissa grins. "Okay." She steps back, turning to regard the car again. It's a bouncy motion, full of the same enthusiasm she's been showing throughout. It's a motion that happens to put her between the governor and that alleyway.

A moment later there's the soft phut of a silenced gun...and mid-bounce, she goes down with an odd, soft cry. It's Charles who shrieks as his daughter collapses, blood pouring from where the bullet passed right through her throat. The bullet likely meant for him. The bodyguards are already moving, one towards Charles, the woman towards the alleyway. Too little, too late?

"That would be wonderful," Barbara says with a smile. From the side pocket of her chair, she pulls out her own tablet and bumps it lightly against Pepper's. The device wirelessly transfers her business card data over with an app. Techgeekery galore. It's info for Barbara Gordon, Gotham University Librarian. The redhead runs her hands over the fabric tail she's wearing to smooth it out. Her eyes are drawn to the slight shimmer in the alley, but a moment too late as the shot is fired. "We need an ambulance!" she hollers, rolling over towards the bleeding girl. She yanks off a "fin" on the side of her "tail" and hands it to the Govenor. "Press that to the wound. Keep pressure on it."

Dr. McCoy glances back at the strange young man as he starts trying to apologize for what happened a moment ago. A brow perking just a bit, as he offers a light nod to "Ariel" and the others around the car. "Stalker." He jokes, gesturing back towards Fredrick. Of course, Hank's focus on the strange young man makes him miss catching any strange shimmers in alleyways or anything else strange. Of course, then the excrament hits the fan as the young woman standing nearby goes down and bodyguards start moving. "Out of the way, I'm a Doctor!" Hank growls, swiftly leaping between the running bodyguards to land in a crouch next to the young woman. Sigh, when is he ever going to whip out 'Back Off Man, I'm A Scientist' with such equal energy.

Pepper Potts nods to Ms. Gordon and glances at the data sent to her tablet briefly, and then looks up when the lady in the wheelchair shouts. She presses one hand to the little bluetooth-like device on one ear and snaps sharply, "Security to Vehicle exhibits, and send medical assistance immediately. I mean it. NOW." Then she hurries to stand over the fallen pair, looking around to try and figure out what happened to injure the girl and where it could have come from... and possibly making a very nice target out of herself.

Fortunately, Frederick had placed his bag far close this time, in one of the access corridors no one thinks to check. Even in a post terrorist world, there are still some places that just aren't covered by cameras, and few people are going to judge him, because quite frankly he looks more like a member of the janitorial or maintenance staff than an attendee. He takes advantage of the initial chaos, and the fact that the Doctor Man is probably now a lot more concerned about a wounded girl to remember a young man asking about shoes. He swips one of the complimentary baseball caps off one of the nearby tables, working towards the exit he has in mind. Ideally, the mixture between curious souls gathering and the few who just get excitable about this sort of things should give him enough cover to find a way to get to his armor without any undue attention. I mean, its a guy in old clothes in a hat...how boring and beneath notice can you get? Let those with actual medical skills handle it, perhaps he can help in another way. Shimmers? Two can play at that game. He locates the bag and then finds the nearest maintenance closet, fitting himself into his armor with all possible speed.

It probably does not help that Charles hesitates...the woman instructing him to apply pressure and then the doctor. But it's only for a moment before he's trying to stem the flow of blood from his daughter's neck. She's already unconscious...to Hank's expert eye? She got real unlucky...the bullet went right through both the carotid and the jugular. There's not much you can do at that point.

There is no second shot, at least for right now...the stealthed assassin didn't get his or her target, but is professional enough not to shoot, say, Pepper. And sensible enough not to run. Which might be a mistake, given who some of the people here are. And professional or not...anyone with an enhanced sense of smell might get a whiff of his fear.

Babs taps a few spots on her tablet, to send out an Oracle Alert to any cell phones or other wireless devices of heroes in her database. An app pops up, she selects her location as the GPS coordinates, and taps a "shooting" choice in a drop down. The message goes out and she can only hope there are some nearby or even in attendance.

Poor Hank, he didn't expect it to be as bad as it turned out to be. While he certainly has medical training, he's a much better Scientist than anything else. And with the damage, there's little he can really do without more advance medical equipment. "Ms. Potts... I know there's a medical display around here somewhere. Anything you can salvage will be valuable to try to keep her alive until a Med Team arrives." Hank is applying as much pressure as possible, wishing he any of the lifesaving tools from the mansion in his possession. "You are not dying on me... goddamn it." Hank growls, almost beastial. Ok, gotta keep that under control around the 'Normals'.

Bruce has been at the Expo, mostly chewing the fat with various executives from this tech firm or that, working out small details on potential joint operations in the future. Things got a little exciting there, but it all worked itself out. He retired to his hotel to clean himself up, contact Alfred to have a Batsuit brought in.

Just incase.

If the worst thing that happens tonight is a group of irrate Neo-Nazi's, Bruce can rest certain that things are fine. But once one peg falls out of place, it's his experience that the rest come tumbling down.

Suited up and perched in the rafters like a dark sliver in the still shadows above one of the communication exibits, Batman listens. Waits. He's got more patience than most people.. New York might not be his regular stomping ground, but he's here..

And it turns out to be a fairly good thing. The all call goes out and Batman responses. "Oracle. I'm here."

His cold voice sounds every bit as detached as he moves through the catwalks quietly. Closing the distance on the source of that sent out distress.

Being a lot less bullet-aware? That definitely makes one calmer. Yet it is primarily with the helmet, the concealing of his face that gives him courage. The idea that he is becoming someone, something else. Maybe he doesn't quite subscribe to the flippant codename he was assigned, but its as good a think as any. Frederick Jager isn't of any use here. Hell, if things had not changed he might have been the stooge or the patsy for the shooters. Moving silently away from his place of changing, he hits the dynamic camouflage and engages AIDOS's sensory enhancement package. He isn't a detective, or a trained hitter, but he knows how to avoid notice and to avoid cops. As he looks for the best escape route to cut off, he starts running scenarios through his head. 'If I wanted to kill a bigwig or his daughter, where would I go...how would I do it?' He muses to himself, the very slightest appearance of moving air the only real sign of his presence as he moves to close off the most promising escape routes. Ideally he won't 'confront' the assassin at all. Someone who is an actual hero will do the job and get the glory. Maybe he can at least keep the aspiring shooter pinned down. As for shimmers? That is why one has multiple visual modes if need be....and a hearing boost.

Pepper Potts waves down the medics that arrive amongst the swarm of Stark Security, the EMTs making a beeline for them while the guards start clearing the area of non-essential personnel and trying to locate anyone 'unusual' lurking about. She kneels down next to Hank to answer his request for the high tech medical equipment hopefully quietly enough to not alarm anyone else within earshot. "They're already carrying the best we have on hand. Maybe we should let them try." She knows almost nothing about medical matters, but that much blood just can't be a good thing.

She's limp now, just a pool of blood around her, her eyes closed. Charles is swearing...he's letting them work on her now, but producing a string of words that one would not expect to come from such a man. It's probably forgiveable, given the circumstances.

Meanwhile, the stealthed shooter has flattened himself against the wall. He's hoping that they'll run past him. Security is, of course, searching the area. Two of them run down the alleyway...and right past the shooter. Somebody needs to issue them better sensory gear. Dragnet, though, will see his silhouette when he looks that way. Not clearly, no, but he might well recognize what he's looking at as dynamic camouflage similar to his own.

Babs holds her S-Phone, not even turned on, to her ear, so it doesn't look like she's talking to herself. "East of my position, there was a shimmer of some sort in the alley between booths," she says quietly over the comm secreted in her ear, letting The Bat know what she knows. She otherwise watches the medics work on the girl worriedly.

Beast nods to Pepper, stepping back once the Med Team is on the scene... his hands and clothes soaked with blood. He'd slip away and try to find the shooter himself, but his appearance covered with blood would certainly ask too many questions. Even if he could slip away and strip down to his X-Men Uniform... that he kept under his clothes for the gene-cloak aspects. So for now, its' remaining with the patient and hoping she gets the best of attention. His hand reaches out to offer a comforting squeeze to the Govenor's shoulder. He may not agree with the man's ideas, but noone deserve such tragety. And hey... if she pulls through, he's got a giant bloody handprint on him.

The shadowy figure is counting off possibilities as he comes to rest up above the scene. Batman's presence is just another black spot in the darkness, eyes scanning the scene below. 'Single shot fired.' Laying out the tragectory of the incoming munitions given the spray of blood around the woman laying on the floor.

Following the projected line of fire... then further East along a projected route of escape. The Bat shifts his visual field once Babs gives him that bit of information.

Dynamic Camouflage figures. Two of them. One looking like he's running... moving more like he's looking for something. The other is definately hiding... "Got them."

The shadow moves, souring off from his perch towards the alleyway on the memory fabric wings... Twisting into a controlled fall that brings him up in a roll deeper in that alleyway. "Don't make me hurt you." Looming like a black smear, voice like gravel in his throat. Clutching a batarang between his fingers beneath the draped black cape.

Dragnet narrows his eyes behind his faceplate. He should warn the other heroic types. His instincts however, no matter how bolstered they are, are to remain hidden and avoid notice. How can he be the only one who sees anything going on? Unfortunately, AIDOS is either cheaper than whatever the assassin is wearing, or....oh, maybe someone does see whats going on. And sees him. And since its SORT of like...crap. He checks his gauntlet, then looks at the gunman, and then at...the FUCKING BATMAN. Looks like things just got complicated. So as to avoid implication in this whole mess, he checks to make sure that one of his knockout gas cartridges is loaded, then attempts to aim the trajectory of the shot so that by the time it goes off, it is hopefully close to the face of the assassin and not along open ground, giving him time to run or compromising bystanders.. Unfortunately the gas does have an area of effect, but at least this should give them a chance to flee and panic. A good deed, and he avoids being blamed. Maybe. So he gets seen...by BATMAN. Can't have everything. THUNK! And off the gas canister goes!

The EMTs do indeed gently shoulder aside those around Marissa, but one of them shakes his head as he checks for a pulse. "Dammit," he murmurs. "Too late." It does seem, though, as if an odd shudder goes through her form, in the moment in which he says that. That...is when the assassin realizes...that somebody's throwing a gas canister at him. He breaks and runs. Right towards Batman, whom he hadn't noticed yet. Oh. Dear. It's not his day, is it. Wrong target and now the Batman. Isn't he supposed to stay in Gotham? Right? What's he doing HERE!

Pepper Potts stands and steps out of the way of the EMTs when Dr. McCoy does, watching them work with a worried expression. She debates contacting Tony and letting him know, but ... there's not really anything he can do about it at the moment. She looks briefly upset when the EMT utters the words "too late", but then flinches and stares when the girl's form shudders. The heck? She glances at Dr. McCoy to see if he also noticed, and is just NOW struck by the odd dichotomy of the man's professional attire and ... VERY blue hair. Curiouser and curiouser.

Oracle listens to Batman's progress over the comm, and she starts working on hacking into the local security cameras. It may be Stark Expo, but that hardware is good old Flushing Meadows.

Right at the Batman.

That's a direction more than one individual has lived to regret. There's not much time to think and a gas canister to deal with as well... The Bat's cape flaps out away from him with hand tossing it around in a long arch, double serving to camoflauge his other hand bringing a rebreather up from his belt to slip inbetween his lips and a disorienting motion aimmed at the assassin's eyes. It gives him that extra second of breath as well to get the breather in before the gas hits him as well by dispursing it away from him.

He carries right through the motion, turning on the heel of his right foot and shifting all body weight back towards the woman trying to pull up short upon him. His elbow slams into her abdomen, just below the diaphram to force the oxygen out of her lunges in a quick gasp.

Down, turning his body over at waist axis to slip out around her left leg, burying his into her knee to force her forward onto the concrete with his armored thigh pinning her down from behind. Right arm wrapped in around the front of the throat, to the bisep, pushing her head forward with the palm of his left hand to quicken the pressure. Breathless and unable to catch it... that doesn't take long at all...

Snapping up and around to face Dragnet. Glaring.. dangerously.. from the man's own smoke. A shadow. Curling it's hands into tight fists.

Beast, or as everyone here knows him... that weird guy with blue hair, wipes the rest of the blood off his hands onto his pants. He misses the strange shuddering of the victim's form... as he offers a smile to Pepper. He's across taken notice of the confused look on her face. "Dr. Henry McCoy. One of the cogs in the machine that is Stark Enterprises. I didn't have blue hair when you hired me." Hank notes with playful smile. Yeah, he totally missed what's going on.

Fearlessly charging into the law of unintended consequences is the intrepid Dragnet. With the camouflage dispersed, one can clearly see the black and gray in stark relief, golden circuitry....veins, some aesthetic weaving of the two? The gauntlet autoloader prepares the next gas cylinder, but he lowers his arm as he is glared at. Fortunately, he has the advantage of a faceplate. While the Batman's narrowed eyes and stern grimace might scare anyone he came into contact with, Frederick Jager's expression if forced to look at people who were obviously trained professionals of the murderous variety would be 'OhgodohgodohgodI'msorry!'. Like another one of Batman's dance partners, his life is defined by fear. Which is why he keeps the helmet on, and just looks at him through the darkness of the faceplate. Indeed, even the Batman might have trouble determine what exactly the armored grenadier is looking at. It is most definitely not into the eyes of the Bat. Rabbits should know better than to look into the eyes of snakes.

The assassin...Bat-snagged. After a moment, she stops fighting. She knows when she's screwed...and she's not the type to have a cyanide tooth. They might find out who hired her yet. But out in front of the stool, Charles Sometimes is...determined NOT to cry as he looks down at his daughter. Who's form shudders again...and suddenly the flesh of her throat is knitting back together. Not instantly, no, it takes time, but that's not natural. Either somebody in the crowd is doing a discreet bit of psychic healing, or there's something else going on. Whichever it is, the governor is now just...staring. Almost blankly. This is...not supposed to be happening. None of it is supposed to be happening. Not people trying to kill him, not this. He's...shaking.

Pepper Potts just looks at Dr. McCoy a moment longer, then back at the girl still lying on the ground. Not exactly the best time for introductions. She sees the girl's body shudder again and her eyebrows furrow together in a faint frown as she can just barely see that the injuries are ... healing. Without thinking about it, she reaches over and puts a hand on the blue-haired man's arm as if to direct his attention to what's going on in front of them.

Babs gets into the security system and then her head snaps up as the first camera picks up the closing wound on Marissa's neck. She looks over at the prone form of the girl. "Did that bullet hole just close up?" she asks the governor quietly, trying not to draw attention to it.

Smart.

Batman doesn't say it, he doesn't say anything as Dragnet backs away. He waits a few extra seconds, following the figure until he's growing out of sight and reaches up to remove the rebreather and slip it on his belt where it belongs. The smoke having dissipated enough that it nolonger bothers the Batman. "Oracle. I have the assassin."

As he goes down onto one knee, the canister used to fire off the gas is snagged up and placed into an empty pouch on his belt. Definately going to take a look at that later... but while he's down beside the woman, he also checks her pulse, then roll her over to get a better look at her. His hand closes slowly around her throat, pulling upwards to push her forward against the wall. "Who sent you." Releasing her hand just enough that air can start returning to her lunges.

"Now."

"H--what?" Hank good give Clark Kent lessons on appearing clueless when he wants to be. But unlike Clark, Hank's look is genuine. He's familiar enough with mutant healing factors, so it's not hard for him to recognize the signs. As Hank pushes his way back in to get a closer look at the knitting flesh. Mutant? Maybe. Metahuman? Perhaps. It's doubtful someone in the crowd would wait til the girl was deadsville before trying to help. So that's ruled out. Hank glances back at Charles and then back to the girl. "Welcome back to the land of the living." Yes, he's always wanted to say that.

He wouldn't see it, the face shield is wondrous for hiding Dragnet's facial expression and any tics he might express. However, there is a slight bobbing of the head, a visible relaxing of the shoulder and a less...coltish look to the positioning of his feet, no longer quite so inclined to bolt. Indeed, even as Batman watches the circuitry fades, the armor becoming blacker than deepest pitch before his eyes...and then, the camouflage is engaged again in that time that he finally turns away. Dragnet doesn't leave the scene, but instead watches from a distance. Concern for the girl perhaps, or maybe he just wants to feel like he is doing something other than getting in the way. The loss of the canister is a lamentable one, but fixable...armor breaches and the energy for an impact shot are far more grave concerns. He really one day must look into a chemist, or perhaps find a way to freebase it himself in a manner that doesn't take quite so long. Still, for the price of a cartridge/canister, he sent an assassin into the waiting fist of justice of the Caped Crusader.

It had its flaws, and he probably will think himself quite mentally deficient for taking on metahuman gunmen, but...there are worse things one could do with ones day.

"Nobody...sent me." the woman gasps. "That asshole wants to put us all into *camps*." She could be telling the truth...there's no evidence she has support, but absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Still...she's breathing somewhat hard, clearly scared. The Bat has that effect on people. Including, often, his allies.

Her eyes fly open and she gasps, then coughs, staring up at the sky. "What the..." All Marissa knows right now is that that hurt like hell, like nothing she's ever felt before. Charles. He's still staring. It's clear he's in some kind of shock. Maybe the jokes about people having apoplexy about things outside their beliefs are true. Or maybe it's just too much of an emotional rollercoaster for him right now.

Barbara rolls back a few feet to give Marissa some room as her phone goes back to her ear. "The girl looks like she's healing. Maybe you should take her to Leslie's clinic? But that might constitute kidnapping of a governor's daughter. Any ideas?"

Pepper Potts's attention snaps over to "Ariel" at that comment, even as quiet as it was, and she frowns a bit more, stepping carefully around to stand next to the woman's wheelchair. "Who are you talking to?" she asks in a quiet but serious tone. If this lady turns out to be some form of media...

Beast steps back, giving Marissa some room as she comes back to life. He steps back and can't help himself, puts an arm around the shoulders of poor Gov. Sometmes... giving it a firm, actually rather firm squeeze. "And to think, all of those speeches you gave. About purity, gene jokes, mutants and monsters." Hank gestures to Marissa and claps him hard on the shoulder. "Karma's a bitch isn't it."

"You had help." Batman states firmly, squeezing the woman's throat to assure he he's very serious. To press the fear further by adding rounds of inability to catch her breath. That also has an effect. "Training. Planning. Weapons. Or all three. Tell me who you're working with." Releasing her throat 'just' enough. His thumb still pressing against the side of her larnyx so that she can clearly feel the imprint of his gauntleted thumb.

Pausing when the voice fills his ears. Focusing on the woman infront of him. "Is she in danger?" To the voice on the other end of his communicator. Clearly not taking his intent stare off the attempted assassin.

Babs frowns at Pepper then lies as cool and smooth as frozen custard. "My father. He's the Gotham City Police Commissioner. If the girl has, uh, abilities, she might be in danger here." She tips her chin at Marissa's father. "Her dad is known for wanting to lock up mutants in camps. There's a doctor in Gotham who is extremely discreet and could look her over without, ah, word getting out." The words are for the Bat's benefit too, so he gets an explanation of the possible danger to the gunshot victim.

Pepper Potts stares at Babs for a long moment, as if trying to decide if the woman is lying. Ultimately, she has no proof, so she can't dismiss her words. She WILL, however, follow up on what she's learned. Especially about a supposed doctor in Gotham. Also, she's not taking any chances. The girl is miraculously alive due to some chance genetic anomaly, and Pepper will be damned if some one else manages to so much as muss the girl's hair. She taps at her own earpiece (not a concealed one) and instructs the security guards around to secure the area. Thankfully most other bystanders were already cleared out. "... and get a bus in here."

Batman. Very intimidating. Too intimidating...the assassin passes out. Without revealing who, if anyone, she might be working for, which will no doubt utterly frustrate the Caped Cruasader.

"Dad?" Marissa manages, her voice oddly rough as the healing process finishes. He's still staring at her. Then. "No. This is not happening. My daughter is not a mutant. Or she's not my daughter." He gets up, starting to walk away. It's clearly more than he can handle right now...perhaps later he'll be able to deal with it. Or perhaps not, given everything that's said about him. Leaving only a lost, confused Marissa, not even clear in her mind on what just happened to her, drenched in her own blood... "Dad?" she tries again. But he's not turning around... (Asshole).

Beast turns to watch the Gov turn to leave, unwilling to accept his daughter now. Maybe he shouldn't have poked the sleeping bear by mocking him. But the man is a monster, even to someone like Hank. So Hank speaks out again, only to make the man feel worse. "Don't feel bad. The mutation gene is usually inherited from the father. So look on the bright side... everything she is, is becuase of you. You should be proud... she's proof that while your ideas are flawed... your genetics are pefectly normal!"

Batman presses too hard on the already injured assassin and she goes silent... unconscious.. His eyes narrow but he's not nearly as frustrated as one might think. "Oracle, the assassin is in the alleyway just east of your position. She's unconscious."

He's up and moving back to his higher position to close distance unseen on approach.

Just in time to see the girl sit up, call out to her father, and be given a cold shoulder.

"This is his fault." Quietly, kneeling with one arm across his bent knee. Watching the exchange between the family... But this isn't his business. As much as the desire is there to break the senators nose for what he's caused.. This is New York. The assassin is dealt with. "Find out where she's staying, I'll have Leslie get in contact with her." It's as close to compassion as he can afford. Certainly doesn't sound it, though.

Pepper Potts looks at Marissa when the girl finally wakes, taking a step toward her to help her sit up. But then Gov. Sometimes actually turns his back on his daughter and her expression goes from concerned to ... flat. The flat expression with thunderous eyes that would make Tony RUN for cover. "Governor. Tell me officially, right now, are you disowning your daughter? You know, nevermind. I don't care if you are or not." She starts tapping on her tablet with her stylus before the man has even had a chance to reply. After a moment she speaks seemingly to her tablet, though the little blue light on her earpiece has turned on. "Solomon. I want emancipated minor documents for both Arizona and New York in my hands. In ten minutes." Then, with a vicious stab of her tablet with her stylus, she turns to Babs. "I'm going to want the address to this doctor in Gotham you mentioned, and I'm going with her." A single chirp from an ambulance siren announces the arrival of the 'bus', and the security guards move to let the vehicle approach.

Dragnet's hearing isn't quite Superhuman. What the suit does do rather efficiently is filter out a lot of the crap that the human ear is not so good at doing. He keeps an ear out on the scene going on, keeping watch from his _better_ hiding place than the one he chose last, ideally a lot less Batman acceptable. He seems to process all of this, that something is definitely above and beyond about the girl. He isn't much for legal paperwork, and he isn't all that great a fallback, but he knows what happens to kids who get outed as anything. As criminals, as being mutants, as being different...he resolves to keep an eye on her, should the worst happen.

Babs rolls up to Marissa and offers her a business card. Barbara Gordon - Gotham University Librarian. On the back it has written "Thomkins Clinic - Dr. Leslie Thompkins" and a phone number. "Miss Sometimes?" Yes, she recognized the girl. "I have a doctor friend in Gotham who is very discreet. It might be a good idea to have her examine you. Feel free to call the number on the back of my card."

Marissa Sometimes sits up, slowly. "What just happened?" She was, after all, out cold for most of it...'dead' for some of it. She's confused, and her dad just walked out on her. He'll probably come back. She hopes he'll come back. He wouldn't actually leave her in the cold, literally or figuratively, right? Because...what the hell did just happen. There's blood on her hands, she stares at them. "I...okay. Doctor." Doctor sounds good, all of a sudden.

Dr. McCoy takes a long pause to glance over, taking note of the name of the clinic and Doctor that Babs is offering Marissa. He makes a mental note of it, and plans to pay a visit himself. Of course, note as the antagonistic Dr. Henry McCoy..... but as the X-Man known as Beast. He might have to utilize some exaggerated 'Beast-growl' way of talking so not to blow his cover. "I should go.. I think I caused enough trouble today. Plus I'm covered with blood. Ladies." Hank offers a nod and slips through the crowd.

Pepper Potts waves the ambulance over, then kneels down and offers a hand to Marissa, at this point totally not caring about the blood everywhere. Her cleaners can do MIRACLES. "Miss Sometimes? I know things are confusing right now. We have an ambulance for you, though, if you'd like to go see that doctor right now." She's not going to press the girl too much, but she is damned sure going to make sure she has a SAFE place to stay.

And, after a long moment, Marissa accepts the hand of a stranger. Which might be the irony of the entire thing...that sometimes strangers will take us in when our own blood let us down. "Alright," she says, a little unsteady on her feet. It's possible that her healing factor has yet to replace all the vital fluids she lost.