2012-08-08 Intervention

There are parts of Gotham City where nothing ever quite seems to last the way it should: precarious holes pockmark the streets, businesses fold nearly as quickly as they open, and the children laughing and happily playing in the schoolyard one year oftimes wind up stalking the corners the next, primed to serve as the eyes, ears and hands of the criminals infesting the city.

Crime Alley is one of those places; Risso's Carniceria is one of those would-be businesses.

And a decade or so ago, the wirey man with sunken cheeks and pale, papery skin who goes flying through Risso's front window was one of those children.

"Ha--ha..." Inside the butcher shop, Spoiler stumbles over to the wall near the broken window and braces against it with an arm folded over her stomach as she tries to catch her breath. "--now stay--*hff*--/down/!" she calls after the man. After another big gulp of air, she steps away from the wall and plants her hands on her hips; outside, the man scrambles to his feet with a scowl and begins advancing--only to inexplicably stop. "That's /right/," she taunts as she takes a step away from the window. "You stay /right there/, before I throw your junkie ass--"

KLIK!

Spoiler's eyes grow wide when she feels cold steel against the back of her skull--even her /mask's/ eyes get a bit bigger. She only saw /one/ body shuffling around in the darkened buthcer shop; it never occured to her to check the back. All traces of that bravado are gone, now, replaced by cold, sick fear; she tries to call upon her meager training - to duck, to knock his gun away, /something/ - but she remains still--save for her trembling hands, anyway.

Red Hood is the kind of heartless bastard that is only a heartless bastard when it comes to people doing things in his territory. As far as he's concerned, the entirety of Gotham is his territory. Which is why the disturbance at one particular butcher shop has managed to draw his attention. Attention that probably should not be on this shop at this very moment. Because that means things can go very badly for those that are causing the attention to be on this particular butcher shop.

Whiff-whiff-whiff-SHUNK!

The sudden and speedy arrival of the bladed wing that looks almost as if it could belong to the Bats, is what will have that gun wielding jerk in pain. That blade is tres sharp and the embedding of it into that hand should accomplish giving the Spoiler a chance to duck and maybe even getting him to drop that gun. Whether he does or not, it doesn't really matter, because death is coming from above.

Perhaps Red Hood can be found based on reversing the trajectory from which that wingblade managed to arc and curve to handle the gunman. But the sudden arrival from above, since he's dropping with his knee bent and aimed to collide with the skull of this asshole that's already outside and in his way, that should be good enough to let people know he's here to make this mess go away. Or make it worse. Who knows. There's a huge gun held in both hands as he drops in, cocked and locked and ready to for war.

"Big mistake, assholes."

The gunman is as pale and malnourished as his pal; after dropping the gun, he yanks his bloodied hand to himself to nurse it, leaving Spoiler free to--

--well, stand there, at least until Red Hood's feet hit the ground. Her eyes do dart around to find the source of the blade, but it's dark in the butcher shop, and she's /still/ trying to catch her breath. Mortal terror really takes it out of a girl, at least as much as hip-tossing a junkie does. When the 'Hood /does/ land, she punctuates his declaration by throwing a vicious elbow back into the gunman's nose, causing him to stumble backwards as she brings her hands forward, over her racing heart. She blinks a few times at the imposing figure in red and black, her mask's eyes momentarily narrow, and then:

"--Batman?" she asks in a small voice.

"He wishes."

Red Hood's voice is snarky and angry as it comes from beneath that helmet he's wearing. Both of his guns are held up nice and easy as he rises from his crouched landing and proceeds to shoot at both of the junkies right for their heads. One shot is hopefully a cakewalk and quite easily sent towards the junkie nearest him on the outside. While the other bullet is sent in a very close and fast manner past the Spoiler's own head. Clearly, Red Hood has decided that this horrible vigilante has not been scared enough. Not to mention she just attempted to call him the one thing that he does not ever want to be confused with: Batman.

Hood's shots are done with so much ease that he doesn't even seem to falter in his conversation. "The hell are you doin' on my turf?" One junkie going down is enough to give Spoiler a start; the bullets aren't exactly surprising - huge handgun, and all - but the suddenness of it catches her off-guard.

Just when's over it enough to turn and slug the other guy in the face, a /second/ bullet whizzes right past her ear; /that/ one causes her to stumble forward with a frightened cry, and she has to throw her hands out to catch the wall before she smacks into it or the ground. Between that scream and her greeting to Red Hood, Steph will have plenty to chastise herself for later.

"You /killed/ those guys!" she cries out in a shrill, trembling voice. Okay, add 'stating the obvious' to that list too. She pushes off of the wall to get a proper look at him, but the way she wobbles is enough to make her settle for keeping a hand against it. "I--" Her eyes dart between the dead man on the inside and the 'Hood himself. "--these guys--they broke in, and--" She swallows thickly and tries to get her quaking voice under control.

"Thank you," she whispers a moment alter.

"Shit happens." is the epic response to the mentioning of his murderous tactics. The Red Hood is not exactly a stable mind at this moment and he has already starting putting the guns away into the holsters on his sides. He's not worried about them getting back up. Hell, there may not be anything left to do but mop and hose down the street, really. As long as the problem is taken care of. "But guess what? This means those assholes won't be able to break into any other stores and harm anybody else trying to make a decent living in this piece of shit town. Isn't that right?" Hood's tone is beyond patronizing. As if he's talking to a newborn vigilante baby.

Hood crosses his arms over his chest as he works on listening to the babbling coming from the Spoiler. He doesn't move to make sure she's okay. He doesn't even stand like he gives a crap. His body language is all annoyed anger. "Since it's obvious you have no fuckin' clue what you're doin', suppose you leave this shit to the professionals and save this horrible outfit you're wearing for Halloween. Before you get yourself killed." Okay, maybe he's a little like Batman.

"Wh--"

As she looks down at her homemade costume in in disbelief, Spoiler bites down on her bottom lip to give herself something to think about /besides/ the heat flushing her cheeks. He's swaggering around in a trumped up bike helmet and he has the nerve...?

"Wh-whatever," she manages to utter in quiet but otherwise even tones, turning away from him with a dismissive handwave. "Asshole," she adds beneath her breath.

As soon as the word leaves her mouth, she stiffens. He /still/ has two guns, and a serious case of the batshit crazies; with a small shudder, she glances over her shoulder at him. "Do-do you know how many people I've heard say the city is 'theris'? In the last month, even?" she quietly asks, trying to divert him away from the namecalling a little.

"And yet, I'm the only one actually backing up my statement. Curiouser and curiouser." Hood is fine with having this little chit-chat with the vigilante of fail, because there's no police sirens at the moment. Hell, this is Crime Alley. They may not ever show up, to be perfectly honest. And Hood is completely fine with letting the bodies stay here until they present themselves to be a problem in his dealings. Right now, though, they may actually work to serve as some kind of warning sign. So it all works out.

"So. What's your story? I'm not due to rough up Falcone's Jerks for at least another hour. And I'm willing to bet you're not gonna' quit Pajama-ing around just because I said to. So let's hear it. The epic origin story of... who are you?" It almost sounds like Jason is /enjoying/ being an ass right now.

Spoiler's eyerolling is hidden beneath her mask, a fact that makes her a little more comfortable with not looking at the 'Hood for any longer than she absolutely must to be assured that he won't shoot her in the head. "Yeah," she mutters, leaning back against the against the wall so that she can slide down it. "Two dead crackheads in an abandoned butcher shop: Superman'd better watch his ass."

As soon as she plops down on that butcher shop's grimy floor tiles, she buries her masked face in her hands and quietly groans at her inability to stop poking the crazy, gun-toting bear.

"Spoiler," she quietly offers after a moment's hesitation. "I got m--the--a /criminal/ thrown in jail, after I found out about a job he was planning, so now..." She gestures at herself a little before remembering that there's a wall between them; as she curls her hands in her lap she finishes, "--this."

"Spoiler. Eh. I've heard worse." Red Hood has an attitude problem and it's starting to show. Even as he stomps his way through the broken glass and blood to step into the butcher shop. He doesn't do much of anything besides standing there to tower over the Spoiler in her seated position. "You need to be trained. You can't just jump into this line of work. Not in Gotham, you can't." Hood is actually taking the time to help someone out? "You should give ol' Batty a ring. He's always good for taking in young, impressionable types and turning them into targets for his enemy's rage. You'd be perfect!" Maybe this is less helping and more being an ass. "Or. You could be smart and get yourself a couple guns and even the odds."

"Like I said," Spoiler murmurs, lifting her head just enough to peer up at the Red one from beneath her own hood, "people keep telling me the city is theirs--him included." Beat. "Don't think he'd approve of the guns so much, though--what with all the, you know."

She stretches a hand out towards the guy lying in his own blood whose eyes are frozen in pain and fright.

"He was /real/ clear about /that/." Her voice shifts a bit to mime him--only it shifts /up/ and becomes flatter, more machine-like. "'No killing. No endangering civilians. Will hunt you down if you don't comply, blar blar'." Her eyes shift to the holstered guns, and then she just focuses on the ground between her knees.

"Guess it's workin' for /you/, though..." she quietly admits.

"You could be workin' for me." Red Hood has no idea where the hell that came from. But it's probably more of this whole thing where he's trying to be like Batman and acquire some sidekicks of his own. "You could tag along. Take some notes. Let me show you how this city really works. Some of us ain't scared of the Batman. He can't be everywhere." Red Hood likely sounds like he's grinning from beneath that helmet. Since his features can't really be seen at this moment. "Shit, I could even teach out how to kick the Batman's ass if he comes knockin'. I do it all the time."

Where the hell /did/ that come from? Spoiler jerks her head up to stare at him, but there's a /helmet/ in the way; hardly ideal for getting a read on the man.

Nevermind that the last time Stephanie had to 'get a read' on anyone, she was trying to gauge whether or not Mrs. Haverford would give her an extension on her end of term paper on Hamlet.

"But you're--" Crazy? A killer?

A hero?

She slowly presses her lips together and lowers her head when it occurs to her that she isn't quite sure what to make of him--and that he very well may not care, even if she were.

"I--don't even know who you're supposed to be," she murmurs. It's something of a deflection; her head is still spinning a bit from that offer. "Besides, I guess, some guy who maybe doesn't like Batman very much." She glances up at him. "How am I supposed to know you wouldn't just /shoot me in the head/ one day?"

"Listen, sweetheart. This is a Limited Time Offer. Pretty soon, there ain't gonna' be enough of Batman left to flap in the night. You can bet on that." Red Hood takes some steps to help him hop back out and into the street. He's clearly ready to make sure that his exit is just as epic as his entrance is. "So you ain't got much time to pick your side. Better figure it out fast."

Hood is not all about trying to talk people into joining his side. He'd much rather just fuck with their heads until they don't know what to think or what to do. Which is why he lifts his hand and shoots a grapple line off his gauntlet. "Just remember who was here when you needed help the most." And his grapple line hooks and he starts going upwards at a high speed. It sure the hell wasn't Batman, was it?

"Okay, but--"

Before she can finish forming a complete thought, Red Hood has--apparently moved on. She hurries to her feet and leans gingerly against the windowsill to keep an eye on him as he walks out onto the street. "Hey--augh, /god/--" She says a little prayer of thanks for her gloves as she shifts her hands away from a jagged line of broken glass. "--wait--" Her eyes widden when the grapple line goes out. "Wait!" she repeats, bracing a foot on the window as if preparing to hop out after him; before she can even begin to make that jump, though, he makes his escape, leaving her to watch him disappear into the night.

"How do--" Beat. "I would've--" Biting her lip, she settles for just climbing outside and hoofing it a few blocks down the street, to the alley where she stashed her bike. Hopefully, it's still intact; she would hate to have to spend the rest of the evening futilely searching for her stolen headlights in the Bowery. Along the way, she fetches her phone from her utility belt and quickly jabs at the keypad.

@Spoiler_Alert: @Gotham_Police 2 for 1 tacos de cabeza @ Risso's!