2014.04.19 - The Court of Owls: The Nest

The records in Richard Powers' laptop were largely destroyed by the electromagnet, but a few snippets remained. One was a mention of recent purchases of items -- armanents, actually -- being shipped to one Lincoln March. Which brings Shen Kuei to the stately manor that lurks on the outskirts of Gotham...

It has been said that owls do not make their own nests, but rather steal the nests of others. Then, perhaps, it comes to no surprise to Shen Kuei when he finds himself venturing into the bowels of tunnels beneath Lincoln March's home -- an old, storied labyrinth that once served as another link in the underground railroad. The long, narrow passageways are supported by rotting wood, with the constant dribble of water from above serving as a reminder that at any moment, this place could collapse -- though the gleam of lights above (powered by a distant generator) indicates that this place has seen recent use and care.

When the tunnel terminates, the sight is, perhaps, a little daunting -- a massive cavern, nearly the size of the mansion which sits above it -- empty and foreboding. Notably, no bats lurk in this place; the first act of its new owner was to carefully exterminate each and every single one. The entire room is cloaked in darkness, save for a few bright flashes of light -- small 'areas' set in the middle, looking so small and tiny, dwarfed by the enormity of the cavern that surrounds them. A station for several computers, set out here; a station for several weapons and armanents (including a silent Talon costume -- no doubt Shen Kuei would recognize it) set out there. And... a medical station, complete with bed and several medical devices.

Jason Todd is probably no longer resting at the latter; in all likelihood, he's likely paying attention to the fourth station -- the largest, near the back, up against one of the cavern's wall. A massive map of Gotham is plastered to it, with various colored tacks pressed into its surface. At a glance, it looks like... a war-map.

-

Jason wasn't at the medical station, though he was not exactly fighting fit, either. He'd been able to climb back into his armor only just today; the Hood sat nearby, as did his gunbelt and combat webbing. Bruises were fading from blue-purple to the sickly greenish tinge that told of healing. He was recovering. Didn't mean he didn't look like ten pounds of asswhuping in a five pound sack, but he was doing better than he was. Tape over his nose was keeping it straight, some stitches closed up the split in his lip... Yeah. Definitely ten pounds of asswhupping in a five pound sack.

Despite it all, he was alert and wary. His 'new friend' was familiar, but not. He didn't allow himself to fully relax. It's why his guns were within range of his hands, his Hood sitting there, recently reparied and functional. He was a bat at heart, and keeping track of all the data would be important if this went south.

-

Within Shen Kuei's line of work, it has always been about the challenge. There are people in the world, people he knew, people that his employer would fund, that could undo every single bit of damage that magnet did. Grant him full access to the computer. But, no. He used an advanced recovery program run by a contracted person in Gotham, known for his hacking capabilities. It was sufficient. He does not need to read an entire story to get to the end chapter.

Navigating the tunnels in his usual garb, the Cat is one with the shadows. As if his presence were not even there. Although finding an underground area of such raw size is a touch surprising. He saw no records of it, although his audit was less than exact. Infravision goggles are lifted, zooming here and there, searching the room for any that might be hidden in the darkness. His goal had been Mr. Nygma. But from what he had heard, he was not the only source to his true agenda in Gotham. The Owls, ultimately, were a cover. A convenient excuse to Batman for why he's out and about...

It seems to be an operating area. The Talon costume is certainly surprising. But his eyes miss nothing. An elevator. And what seems to be an arsenal of power suits. No chi. No heat. They must be not housing any users, like the one that seems to be repaired.

To call the Cat silent in his approach towards Jason would be to discredit the name. His chi is zero. His breath is held. The very beat of his heart is such a subdued whisper, one would barely hear it with an ear to his chest. Advancing with surprising speed, specialized stepping techniques displacing his weight through customized insoles, a large cavern is no barrier.

His intent is to reach Jason Todd, manoeuvring masterfully even if for some reason he did an abrupt 180 to stay out of sight, to strike with a single knuckle into a particular nerve in his spine. If successful, he'd go rigid as a statue, rather thoroughly paralyzed.

Hopefully things can start out simply.

-

Do things ever really go that simply?

In Jason's world: no, never. Nothing ever goes as planned, which is why he's alerted to the presence of another in, of all things, the gleaming reflection of the Hood on the table next to him. There's no movement to betray that he's seen the Cat; he hasn't heard him, no. Not until he's nearly there. Then, he catches his feet up on the table, hands on the back of his chair, and leverages himself over the back of it and lands in a crouch a good ten paces behind the Cat.

"Nice shoes. Bat made, or custom?" His own, heavy boots should have made a much noisier sound upon landing. They didn't. His kriss knife is in his hand, but the flip and landing cost him dearly; those broken ribs creak in his chest, and his breathing is shallow and harsh. He's not up for this, but by God, he's not going down without starting some shit here and now.

-

"Oh. Impressive." Shen Kuei comments when Jason Todd goes whirling overhead. "I am as quiet as the Dark Knight himself, when I've a mind." Turning to face the broken bird, he adjusts his trenchcoat, assessing for a few moments. "Do you know who I am?" he wonders then. Fingers grasp the fine white of his half-parted shirt, pulling it open to reveal the full black tattoo. In the last five years, there isn't a person alive who knows about mercenaries and martial artists who wouldn't recognize it. But Jason Todd... well. Maybe he had no time for such a thing.

"I have no interest in fighting an injured youth, who would be no challenge even at his peak. I recommend you step down, and allow me to do my business. I'm looking for certain technology. From Tesladyne. Would you happen to know anything about such?"

A smile creases his lips then, mirrored shades reflecting the spots of light. "I'm a professional. Information given would be repaid in kind. If possible... I don't like to force such things."

-

Jason takes the brief moment to look offended. Seriously, did that come out of that asshole's mouth? Not a challenge on his best day? Who the hell says that to a guy in his own lair with a knife? Okay, so he's a little roughed up, but jeez.

"Fuck you too, buddy." Rude gesture given, Jason didn't relax, he just shook his head.

"Wouldn't tell you jack and shit, pal, so why don't you see yourself out so this doesn't have to get messy with the 'youth'." His cocky sneer wasn't all talk; the Cat could disdain him all he liked... but Jason had a habit of killing his teachers once they had nothing else they could give him.

-

"SHEN KUEI."

The voice rumbles from high above; up the elevator shaft -- accompanied by a set of glowing, yellow eyes. Eyes that Shen Kuei no doubt recognizes -- the same glowing eyes that saw him before, from within the depths of the Powers' building. The voice, too -- synthesized, still, to disguise its nature. Rumbling with an electrical hum.

The elevator is descending, down toward the base of the cavern; the Talon stands upon its surface. The suit looks... different, this time. Sleeker; more modernized -- more to it. There is something resembling a slim backpack on it; the wrists have what look like mounted bracers -- though the muscles look just as large.

-

"Hmm. It seems you don't know me, after all. Then your consciousness is not required for my current operation." He shifts, a slow exhale done, and the whirl in his hands seems almost hypnotic. Loose muscles seem equally fierce. All signs of what he might do are erased. It is impossible to even tell the Cat's center of balance. If Robin truly has an eye for one's ability in martial arts, he is looking upon someone who stands above the Batman. Someone who rubs elbows with Lady Shiva, Richard Dragon, the Bronze Tiger... at the peak, unable to look up and only down.

In a heartbeat he moves, peculiar motions that seem like he's shifting forward, appearing a meter at a time in a shift without taking the step between. A foot slides forward, and he then rushes forward with arm back.

Only to skid to a stop, when his name is called. A glance backwards to the elevator, and the descending Owl. He's within striking range, but never did; a mistake. He's underestimating Jason due to his condition. And the Red Hood would know it. Being looked down on... well. He has a reputation for making even those of Shen's tier regret it.

"Have you come back, with a new toy?" he wonders.

-

Jason's ability to measure fucks about what this guy is going on about, in this instant, is minimal, even if his ability to measure skill isn't. He can see the way the other man moves, and he's hardly the first to pass through the League or others like them. In the end, Jason's found, they all take a bullet or blade the same way: with shock at their mortality, the sudden fall from the peak they thought they were on. That's the problem with being a the top: it's a long, long way to fall from there; sometimes you forget there are people climbing up after you, with tricks you didn't learn.

The 'Talon's' arrival doesn't help things. Jason doesn't know if he should interfere, or if this is something between the two of them he's not aware of, but-- there's no way he's letting Shen get onward and upward to the main event without even trying anything.

Which is why he's dodging back-- still slower than he should be, dropping off one of his hotbangs; light and heat and noise. His domino mask will compensate with a tap of a finger, but who knows if Shen can. Some of those people he's met on the mountain tops can stare into the sun for hours and not blink. He's just hoping Shen's not like that.

Now he just has to get away without getting between the Owl and the Cat... or get to a point where he can provide proper cover fire. Either or. Now he just needs to get past him to get to his kit. Easier said than done, if that flashbang didn't do it's job.

-

The Talon continues his descent, slow and steady; he seems to be in no rush -- despite the battle that rages between Shen Kuei and his 'protege', of a sorts. The detonation of that hotbang sends a brilliant flash of light through the cavern, briefly illuminating the shadowy figures of the other Talons -- other suits, silent spectators that lurk upon the edges of the walls -- numbering in the two dozen, perhaps. All of them cold, lifeless, dead -- all of them unmoving.

"Toys?" the Owl asks, as he descends; the gleaming gold eyes continue to watch the two struggle. "I've long since put away such childish things, Shen Kuei. My purpose is far more direct. Has your client," he asks, "told you who I am? What I am? Where I'm from?"

The elevator settles upon the ground; the metal cage opens with an automated rattle. "I'm here to save the world, Shen Kuei. For people like your son."

-

The flashbangs do surprise Shen Kuei, but not in the result desired. Presently, he's wearing his sunglasses; highly advanced, multiple layers that go opaque as light gets brighter. However, that does mean he's suddenly looking at a much darker world that slowly begins to fade back into cover. A mild mistake. The Cat only assessed Jason by his martial potential. But this is not a dojo. They are not bowing, and then fighting to the end. No. This is a street fight with no honor. One where anything goes.

Sometimes, he forgets that.

And there is definite truth. A bullet into Shen Kuei unprepared is no different than a vagrant on the street. A sweep of his hand grasps four throwing stars, gauging Jason before flicking his hand out in four sharp *snaps*. They are aiming to eventually hit him in the leg, and hopefully slow him reaching his weaponry.

But then he suddenly goes still. The Cat's eyes slit, and it's obvious that got through his controlled exterior. "No." the Cat admits. "And to be honest, I am not required to know. ...You offered me money before, Mr. Owl. To not get involved. I had to decline. It was a manner of honor. However, I have concluded my investigation of the Court of Owls. I now only need one particular piece of technology."

"...If you give me that, or tell me where it is, then you can do what you wish. And if someone wishes to hire me to stop you, make sure you are available to outbid."

Almost listlessly, he reaches inside his trenchcoat, and slowly pulls out a sleek wakizashi. Custom made, but at a glance it is through the old, ancient methods. "But if you mention my son again... then this is no longer simple business. He is outside my life. And that is where he will stay." The hint is clear. If a threat is made to the Cat's son, then the elder Owl had best be prepared for his fury and resources to crash against him.

-

Metal bites into Jason's leg, but the armor he wears slows it down; Batman uses batarangs to similiar affect, and Jason prepares for the ultimate confrontation with that hated enemy. He stumbles, but he does not not stop.

"Jesus, listen to you," Jason mutters, grabbing his webbing and diving under the table. Cover attained, webbing will get wrapped around his chest and hips. "Man, as somebody's 'son'? Let me be the first to tell you? That shit don't fly. If it isn't him or me, someone, somewhere, is gonna make that boy bleed over you, someday."

There the snapclick of a round being chambered; he doesn't have his fun semi-autos or his rifles, just his handguns.

"Might as well slit his throat now, if you've mad a lot of enemies, pal," Jason added, bitterness dripping from every word. He knew what it was to be a failed son, to know that your were dead because you weren't the image of your father. "You killed him before he was ever born."

Taunts delivered, it was time to add the spice with supression fire. Good thing he wasn't actually trying to hit anything; his ribs were on fire and having his arms to aim was akin to a Herculean effort. Sweat broke across his brow, down his neck.

"Anytime you want to skin this cat, Hooter, is fine by me!"

-

"Rage," the Owl replies to Shen Kuei, "is another obstacle on the path to success. You are an extraordinary warrior; your martial prowess exceeds my own." The Talon steps forward; claws gleam in the shadows. "But you will not defeat me -- not so long as you insist upon defeating yourself."

The Owl speaks over the gunfire, his voice radiating outward through the cave: "Pride brought you here; in your arrogance, you thought to step into the enemy's den, unaware of the resources he had at his beck and call. Rage blinds you; in it, you lose all sense of reason, clarity, and focus. And now? With nothing more than seven words, you are defeated, Shen Kuei:"

"We will kill your son."

Cue the lights. Two dozen pairs of them -- brilliant yellow eyes that flash open in the darkness. Each suit of armor -- cold, dead, motionless, chi-less -- has awoken, as if in unison. Two dozen slumbering Talons, their corpses powered by Tesladyne technology -- the same technology that, decades ago, allowed the Nazis to bring back the dead. Two dozen assassins -- two dozen orphans of Gotham -- brought back from the grave, placed within the suits, and ressurected... as the Court of Owl's new, secret army.

The Owl did promise seven words, didn't he? Which means he owes Shen Kuei two more. Here they are:

"Talons. Attack."

-

Shen Kuei's eyes suddenly widen. His hands grip the hilt of his katana so hard that knuckles go white. His other trembles, lips peeling back with teeth grit so hard it's nearly audible. It's true. He underestimated the resources of the Court. Overly confident that the job would be like any other. His chi is wild, as if whirling in an inferno around him.

"Arrogance... you claim. You could have had me leave, and this be the end of it. Instead... you wish to make it personal. So be it."

There is one lesson learned by Shen Kuei. The fact is, he did not underestimate the combative prowess after the battle in the building. He has one true advantage here. The man opposite relies on technology to supplement an aging body. And Jason Todd, although prodigal for his age, does not know chi.

"Let us see who made the mistake here."

The Cat's free hand pulls out a slender black canister, before he hurls it upon the ground. Both ends eject thick, whirling gray smoke that billows out in all directions at an exceptional speed, two meters a second. The issue would be found out quickly is that this smoke disrupts all thermal imaging, a wall of hot red; and one could hardly see their elbow at arm's reach before it.

The great cloud expands, but the Cat is already moving. Ears attuned to each shuffle and shift. He is going for the Owl himself.

-

An old man from a dead world, forced to supplement himself with technology to stay relevant. A spurned, ressurected son -- filled with resentment and rage toward the man who failed to save him. A cavern full of dead men, their parents taken from them, raised as assassins -- pulled from their graves, brought back to life to slay a city's worth of criminals and lunatics. Every single one of them orphans -- every single one of them failures -- in their own special, spectacular ways.

And all of them, now, against Shen Kuei. In some fashion, it's almost poetic.

The two dozen Talons act in unison -- moving from their nests at once, to spring forward. Their eyes, designed to allow them to see in several spectrums of vision, are left blinded by the smoke -- but their talons remain bared. They will not reach Shen Kuei; not yet -- but they are covering the distance rapidly, acting as a single unit with murderous precision. 24 shadows; 24 ghosts. 24 dead men out for Shen Kuei's blood.

And then there is the Owl himself. The smoke swells up before him, blocking his vision; he switches to thermal in an instant -- without even thinking -- and is unsurprised when this bares no fruit. He steps back, briefly... and with but a thought, activates the new suit's sonar.

It's a high-frequency burst of sound -- a pitched shriek that resembles the horrible predatorial screech of an owl descending upon its prey. The suit briefly insulates the Owl's own ears to the sound, but anyone else hearing it will experience a brief flash of pain -- followed by temporary deafness. Deafness that the Owl does not share -- as he drops into a combat stance.

-

Closed eyes can hear the footsteps. ...What is this? There's no chi. None at all. They must be robots. Automatons. That is an unpleasant surprise, as he had no intention of the battle suddenly becoming 26 to 1. Yet the trick used now by the elder man is good. Shen is struck full on by the sound, recoiling, stance faltering. He's four meters in front. There was likely no sound or hint of such until then. Experience; in terms of raw, visceral life experience, in true battles where one lives or dies, Shen Kuei is vastly inferior. Raised to master the Martial Arts, and having lived a life undefeated, he lacks a vital piece that might make all the difference.

But with a slow exhale, Shen Kuei poses the blade, crouching back. Before erupting forward, stone cracking lightly in his wake. Whirling in a spiral, trench coat flaring disorienting and making his silhouette all the more difficult to pick out, he then thrusts his wakizashi... straight towards the Owl's head. The power within it is superhuman, an assault that would sink the weapon to the hilt within stone.

This is no longer a battlefield of honor. And if he is to die here, there are no regrets. If nothing else... it means there is no reason then to pursue his son.

-

Getting the helm on in the dark? Pain in the ass. But the protection it offers is the only thing that keeps Jason from being bowled on his ass by the sonar pop, and even then he's got some serious issues.

Since 'Dad' has things covered, he limps his way to the command post -- he knows 'owl cave' tech, and the mist isn't as thick over here, dispersing some was it stretches to the further points of the cavern. He kicks on the exhaust ports to finish the job. (Look, Dad, he's a helper!)

-

"Nngh--" The length of Shen Kuei's blade nearly neatly slices through the Owl's head; had he not heard that brief faltering of footsteps, he would never have known to weave to the left -- which brings the length of the blade scissoring through the side of his hood, instead, glancing off of his left eye and cracking it -- tearing a gouge through armor so deep it nearly exposes skin. "--ffhht."

And then, the Owl is leaping away, to the right -- away from Shen Kuei, allowing one of the Talons to step into the space he once occupied. Talons -- all of whom are descending upon the field of battle, all of whom are seeking to surround Shen Kuei within their grips. There is no 'dancing' around the warrior, no attempt to face him one at a time; those Talons who can reach him strike mercilessly at once -- claws snapping out for his shoulders, his chest, his face, his eyes -- quick, rapidly delivered blows that bely faster assassins than the Owl.

They lack the Owl's experience, of course; they lack his tactical knowledge -- even his raw technical skill -- but each is still a deadly opponent in their own right. The Owl is moving back as the Talons converge, toward Jason as the vent systems suck out the smoke: "Computers," he rasps to Jason, gesturing to the mainframe to the left -- apparently, they're leaving. And they're going to scrub any data Shen Kuei could theoretically use on their way out.

-

The blade rips into the Talon that interposed, right between the eyes. Both feet settle on the creature's shoulders, driving it back to crash on the ground in front of the elevator. Wrenching upwards, he splits the face open; and sees the horror of what these beings truly are.

A moment later he whirls with a snarl, and in a billow the thick mist is blown a few meters away. The Talons descend upon him... but there is no fear in his eyes. No hesitation.

Leaping backwards, the short blade is grasped in both hands. For all the ferocity of the creatures, all the sheer number, in his burning mind they don't seem to be moving fast. They telegraph their motions, brutal and simplistic, eviscerations for show that are certainly far from harmless against lesser opponents.

"THIS IS NOT THE END OF THIS!!" roars Shen Kuei into the mist as it begins to be dispersed. Then, they are upon him. He dances backwards deftly to the elevator wall, not allowing himself to be surrounded. He shifts his blade to the left; ceramic plates on his leather jacket clash with swiping hands, sword similarly deflecting others, maneuvering with a deft fluidity.

But he's overeager. He wants to be /through./ To get to Jason, and the Owl. A rake shreds through leather and bares bloodied flesh, finally forcing his attention.

This weapon is fine crafted. Able to heavily scratch titanium. Kevlar and ceramics meant to stop bullets and blunt force from a mundane Talon will find it little defense. A savage thrust removes one incoming arm at the elbow. Another is ducked, striking towards the stomach, whirling down to impale another upon the knee.

One grasps him from behind, managing to get an arm around his throat. Exhaling suddenly, the grip is loosened before it can bring claws to bear and rip out his throat. And a moment later, a ceramic-plated elbow impacts the Talon in the side of the head so hard it caves in, remnants of armor, mask, and yellow eyepieces intermingled with what used to be human.

Having lost his wakizashi now, he is forced into melee. Constantly backing away, weaving, ducking, driving aside incoming blows. No. NO. He needs to go /FORWARD./

Stepping in, another slash rips through his left arm, allowing the Cat to swish a leg behind the frontal offender. As he is knocked off-guard, his other leg extends, and in a disturbingly violent and smooth motion he twists atop the Talon's shoulders, perched like a cat, with a horrible *CRRRACK*, head now facing the opposite direction.

And as the mist is cleared, glasses lost in the scuffle, still his glare is towards the Owl and Jason...

-

That's sort of gross.

Not that Jason has time to think about it; the Red Hood now stares at Shen Kuei, wondering just how stupid he is. Doesn't he get that he's outgunned and out numbered?

"You moron!" he calls out. "Don't you want to see your son? Go home! Pack him up! Forget all this shit! People with families don't belong in this business!" The Red Hood knows that well enough; families are a complication, a feeling... something all wrong. It's something to bleed.

He lifts his gun again to crack off another shot-- another warning, but he's otherwise a sitting duck.

-

"Hood." The Owl is moving toward those computers, now -- there is a soft *FWPT* as he flings something out toward them; a soft 'splt' as the small lump of plastic-like gray goop hits one of the mainframes... followed by a muffled *BOOM* as it explodes in a thunderous cloud of smoke and heat, shattering the machine and roughly obliterating whatever data was on it. The Owl reaches with the other hand -- for the Hood's shoulder -- reaching to clutch it. And, if need be, drag him toward the cavern's exit. "We're leaving--"

Even as Shen Kuei performs live vivisection upon the army of dead assassins, he will soon find that these are more than mere human opponents -- they feel no pain; their lost limbs do not slow them -- they do not bleed -- and worse still, unless the head suffers severe trauma or is otherwise cleanly removed from the body... they do not die.

So far, only two of the Talons has actually been killed; one via bisected head, the other one exploded. The one he's perched on is slowly, awkwardly reaching up for him, even with such a gruesome injury. Yet as a dozen converge upon his position, the Cat hurls himself forward. Only five are now between him and a straight shot towards Jason and the Owl. "No. I don't want to see my son." the Cat states, with a hard voice. "But nor do I want the sins of my life to cast a shadow upon him... and I will let NONE do such."

Two narrow shuriken are flung with brutal force, sinking so far within yellow orbs that the red ribbons trailing behind can barely be seen. Utterly blinded. Two come at once, weaving in a figure eight, before kicking one in the side of the knee at a sharp angle. Beneath the kevlar the joint shatters and he falls. The other, blades slash across a cheek before the offending arm is caught, twisted, broken in three places, and the figure hurled.

Two more. The first, those jagged claws are caught in an explosion of sparks on his armored right sleeve, but the second strikes him across the hip once more.

And he's through. The Talons are now chasing him. And they are slower.

A leap has the Cat crouched upon the table of weapons. A heavy pistol is taken, a combat knife, two clips of ammo. And then he's in pursuit. Raising the pistol, a few disturbingly accurate shots are fired at the Owl and Jason, aiming towards the head.

This might be why the elder man opted to leave instead of stay to see what happened. Certainly, if both engaged, the Cat would end up dead. But there's no guarantee one or both of them would not go with him.

-

Not needing to be told twice, Jason follows after the Talon, as fast as he can -- though his movement remain hampered as he goes; all this is just making every bruise throb, his ribs creak and crack. His recovery time just got that much longer.

He glances back as they flee their buried Aerie, only to see the Cat take aim. He has only a second to act -- and with a last, miserable push of effort, shoves the Talon hard to keep Jason's' body between him and the Cat's aim; one bullet cracks his helm but does not penetrate, saving him from instant death, but another punches into the juncture of neck and shoulder; slowed by his armor, yes, but not stopped until it's lodged in bone, and the third follows a similar path.

He drops like a stone, unconscious.

-

"--nnh." There's very little visible response from the Owl at the sight of Jason Todd shoving him aside to protect him from the path of those bullets; the hood prevents his expression from being seen -- though his actions soon speak louder than any words. In an instant, as Jason crumples, he's turned -- an arm swooping up underneath the ex-Robin's waist, to lift him in that tremendous, powerful grip -- as his claw extends with a *FWPT* -- hurling one of the clay-like mini-bombs directly toward Shen Kuei.

It detonates just before it reaches him, exploding in a bright burst of smoke and sound -- a sharp shockwave eminating from it. Enough to jar, perhaps -- enough to disorient -- enough to buy him the time he needs. The Owl throws his hand in the opposite direction -- toward the upper limits of the cavern -- and... *CLNKT* -- the gas-powered grappler fires out from his wrist, snatching hold of a ledge several dozen yards overhead -- and in the next instant, he is airborn, sailing up into the darkness, gripping Jason underneath his arm.

The Talons seek to protect their master, restless and tireless.

-

The gun is out of bullets; a few likely struck the Owl, but his armor is built to suppress such things. And then with a grunt, the combat knife is whirling through the air. It impacts the bomb, sticking it to the roof; functionally, this works out little different than intended, outside being slightly closer to the Owl and now causing large chunks of broken roof to join the hail of debris downwards.

"...So." he states, continual dust and debris cascading down preventing any thrown weapons from being able to strike anything vulnerable. Blood drips to the ground from the injured mercenary, breath coming quick. "Neither of us gain in this now. Such is why I detest bringing personal matters into business. I would have preferred you to accept the trade. A piece of equipment, and I leave. Instead..."

And then the Owl is gone. And now, Shen Kuei has been made an enemy, rather than someone without interest. The Talons are about to reach him now. One lunges, with arms extended.

"KIAI!!" Whirling, a sidekick impacts the dead figure in the chest. Ceramics explode, his ribcage dents inwards, and he slams into a few others so hard they stagger. And then the Cat is gone, whispering through the shaken tunnel. Blips of him are visible on infravision, but in short order he is lost.

For the Owl, it was a pyrrhic victory. Out of 24 talons, 10 are dead or no longer usable. A significant loss in manpower... but still leaving more than enough for his ultimate agenda, there is no doubt.