2012-12-09 That's No Bat-Signal

The incident at Arkham Asylum had only taken place a few days ago. For those who hadn't witnessed the explosions, the police helicopters, and the general pandemonium of law enforcement descending upon the island that fateful night, the news channels, twitter feeds and morning newspapers would have blasted it for all to hear.

The Joker has escaped from Arkham, and Commissioner Jim Gordon has been shot.

Fortunately for those who enjoy reading about the terrors of Gotham City, the story didn't end there. Not even thirty six hours later, the Joker had kidnapped Gordon, along with socialite and visitor Selena Kyle, from Gordon's hospital room at Mercy Hospital. Rewards for both had been posted, and the City of Gotham Police force had gone on double duty trying to locate the missing. Even the FBI has been called in on this one. However, their efforts were not needed.

The streets of Chinatown are filled with an assortment of citizens who have come out of their homes shortly after sundown, all of them looking up into the dark and cloudy sky, where an iconic image has been cast forth into the clouds from the rooftop of an abandoned mid rise. There are pointing fingers, the flash of cell phones, and the chattering of dozens of different languages as they look upon in wonder. The news and police helicopters begin to arrive at the same time, while sirens announce the presence of police cars and fire trucks. In the age of information, everything happens quickly, and word begins to filter about the moment an image is captured by one of the news helicopters and blasted across the internet.

Jim Gordon has been found.

The images are disturbing, to be sure. Gordon's arm is in a sling, and there are bruises on his face from an apparent beating. Most disturbing, however, is the way his appearance has been altered. Not only does he wear what would appear to be a cheap police officer's costume, the kind that can be purchased at an off-season Halloween costume store and gives one the appearance of being member of The Village People, but his face has also been painted white and a bright red clown-like smile has been painted across his face. Some of the makeup has been wiped clean in lieu of bruising to his skin, but whoever left him there has strapped up upon a large spotlight, arms outstretched in some twisted form of crucifixion.

The good thing about owning a news company is that you can stay on top of the news without any problem at all. Every employee of GBC and even several at the Daily Planet had instructions to report in as soon as they heard anything and those messages, once verified, were sent to Alan. Which is why Sentinel is landing on the rooftop even as GBC helicopters are beginning to hover above the building.

Jason had tried to stay away. No, really, he did. Maybe live a normal life. The sickness in Gotham had finally gotten to him, and he finally realized it was either going to kill him, or he was going to have countless gravestones on his hands. So he left town, tried to find peace, maybe just for a while. It had been hard, but he had found peace.

Then news of the Arkham breakout and the following Gordon abduction broke. And Jason suddenly remember why he wore the hood, in crystal clear terms. He needed to go back, he needed to finish this the only way it can be finished. But first, he was going to try to help the last good man in Gotham.

Fortunately for Jason, as he arrived back in Gotham, his headset informs him that the police have actually now found the Commissioner, but that he's not exactly in ship-shape. Using the old routes from the happier days, Jason is soon at the base of the Bat signal. He grimaces as he glances up, not exactly rushing, slightly overwhelmed. "Christ Jim..." he mutters, before glancing around at the sound of a new arrival. "Hey there...Sentinel, right?" he addresses the hero, before spying the helicopters behind him. "Oh. Good. News cameras," he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Things have not been going all that wonderfully for the mercenary going by the name of Domino lately. She's lost yet -another- car due to some pretty unlikely circumstances, but more worrisome still is that she lost someone that she had been tasked with keeping a close eye on. If she hadn't lost her last car, she probably wouldn't have lost her mark. For someone that always takes her work very seriously, hearing about Gordon's fate on the news along with the rest of the city doesn't sit so well with her. The guy had effectively fallen off of the grid, her tracking bug somehow got compromised, her one lead left to follow took her out of the game at a critical moment.

Now there's this.

Dom should have been keeping better tabs of Gordon. She should have known about this -before- the evening news. Too late now. With her usual assortment of gear she takes to the rooftops, utilizing a grappeling line when pure acrobatics can't see the job through. She's got to get up to that spotlight, quickly, quietly, and on very high guard.

What she's going to do once she -gets- there, that's the real question of her evening. As if that isn't enough of a problem, she's going to have some competition in short order.

Two GCPD helicopters are quick to move in, blasting messages over their loudspeakers that direct the news helicopters to move away. They do as their told, of course, and the two GCPD helicopters begin hovering at the northwest and southeast corners of the building. Their spotlights flash down upon the roof, and begin to shine on the two who have made their way.

"What the..." mutters one of the pilots. "You've got to be kidding me. Dispatch, this is SkyPatrol Three. We've got -masks- on the rooftop."

"Copy, SkyPatrol Three. Be advised to hold them there until a perimeter is established. All masked vigilantes are to be considered armed and dangerous suspects."

"Copy." The pilot switches again to the bullhorn, his voice suddenly blasted down toward the rooftop loud enough to be heard around the block. "Masked vigilantes, do not move! You are under arrest!"

Meanwhile, Gordon has begun to stir. His head drifts from side to side, but in his weakened and bewildered state, he doesn't even have the strength to move his limbs and discover his predicament. All he can hear is the beat of rotors, and the cold wind against his face serves to stir him a bit quicker. "What... where..." he mutters.

"Sentinel, yes." he answers, briefly glancing over at the one who spoke before looking back to Gordon. "Commissioner? Can you hear me?" The orders from the helicopter are just ignored and he moves over to the man, studying how he's been trussed up and making sure that taking him down won't injure him further. Or blow him up. "Do you see anything trapped?" That must be to the Red Hood since Gordon is barely conscious.

Jason already gets the bad news about the 'masks' being in a bad way via his helmet speakers (thanks police scanner), and he grimaces behind his hood. This was a mistake. A rookie mistake, really, and one that underlines just how much rust he must be suffering from since his sabbatical.

"Looks like Jim's fan club doesn't appreciate us being here," the Hood muses towards Sentinel as he glances towards the helicopters with the seal of the police on it's tail. "Nothing /looks/ wired, but I also got a bit distracted, didn't exactly give it a good eye." He slowly raises both of his hands and places them behind his head. As he hears Gordon start to talk behind him, he calls out, but doesn't dare turn his head. "Hey, Jimbo, I know you're in a bad way right now, but think you could keep your boys in blue from killing a few concerned citizens?"

Cripes, it's a zoo around here. Multiple heli's, cowled sorts, and a commissioner on a spotlight. This one she hasn't heard before. It's a fortunate thing that she kept herself out of sight, being tagged along with these other vigilante types isn't on her list of things to do tonight. Especially not if they're all being told that they're under arrest! What the heck is this city coming to?

Eavesdropping would be much more useful if it wasn't for the sound of those choppers overhead, though it sounded like that one guy said 'Sentinel'... That guy in the red hoodie, does she know him..? Not many fit that profile, particularly not anyone that's being labeled as a vigilante. She's going to cautiously take a chance and mark him as a possible confident. She can't do anything about the choppers, shouldn't risk getting tagged by a spotlight, shouldn't even be seen by -Gordon,- for that matter.

What else is there to do? Her job. Make sure that Jim is going to be okay, above all else. Conveniently enough, there's two others already up here that will do that bit of work for her. After that? Well..she does have a quick and shadowy express exit off of this rooftop. Perhaps the other two could make use of it. Always nice to have other people owing you favors.

'Killing a few concerned citizens?' Sentinels looks away from Gordon and over to the Red Hood, seeing the stance he took and then glances up to the helicopter. Oh, yes. Raising his ringed hand, the energy that erupts from the ring forms a green shield between those on the roof and the helicopters.

The helicopters don't make a move, nor do they attack. The police may have been given orders to arrest any masked vigilantes, but Gordon had specifically told them to do so wisely, and had even gone so far as to hold multiple briefings dictating just how that would work.

Even though he hated having to play to the whim of politicians.

Still, those arriving on the ground are taking every precaution and effort to prepare for an eventual situation. The police quickly start to form a perimeter, pushing back curious civilians and making room for a ladder truck to set up on the street next to the building. One after the other, armed cops start to pour into the building while the ladder truck starts to extend its ladder upward. It will only be a matter of time before things get ugly for the would-be heroes who are just trying to help.

"S... Sentinel," murmurs Gordon, his head turning to look at the man who has come to his rescue. "What are you doing here," he murmurs. "It's... it's not safe." Indeed, while his arm is still technically in a sling, it's been torn and ripped free so that it could be extended out to the side like his good arm. There are no signs of bugs or booby traps, however. It would seem that whomever did this, they were doing it for show. As he starts to understand his predicament, a scowl comes over his face. "I don't... I need a radio," he says, answering Jason's question. "Or a patch into the police bands. Quickly."

Fortunately for the experienced mercenary named Domino, the police have not spotted her. Yet.

"What the hell is that?" exclaims the helicopter pilot, before reporting to dispatch. "Dispatch, there's a... some kind of shield over the rooftop."

The hell..? Alright, the green shield thing is an interesting trick. Dom's not placing all of her faith in it, however. In fact, without knowing what it is she places zero faith in it. Whatever it is, it's not slowing the cops down any as they start to climb up toward their position. She does some careful intel and runs some numbers in her head, despite not being a mathematician in the slightest she does have a way with statistics.

"You guys'll want to hurry, we've got six minutes before the roof is swarming with Blue."

To others that are used to lurking in the darkness of Gotham's nights, tracking that fourth speaker shouldn't be too difficult. Domino's no expert at throwing her voice, nor is any attempt made. She's got some info which is relevant to everyone present and Jim seems too out of it to draw conclusions on who the lone woman is amongst them all.

"I've got a zipline out of here, but he's in no condition to make the jump."

The shield takes Jason a moment to register, but he knows an escape route when he sees it, and starts to jet. He'll check in on Gordon in his hotel room, maybe send a fruit basket. Everyone loves a fruit basket.

As yet another voice speaks up, Sentinel glances over. "Why would we want to take him away? They're not going to hurt him." Probably. Though now that Domino has planted the thought.. He just doesn't have time to play bodyguard, damn it. "I don't have a radio, Commissioner. But I can get you down from there."

While the police helicopters continue barraging the roof with repeated orders to stand down, a good bit of that noise is blocked by the green shield projected by Sentinel, along with the beating of helicopter blades and the windy skies of Gotham. It offers a bit of reprieve from the chaos, something Jim Gordon is remarkably grateful for.

Sentinel already knew of the predicament Gordon had been placed in by Mayor Klass. Red Hood had perhaps managed to figure it out, which is why he's gone. However, there's a fourth voice, and though he can't turn to see her, it is unrecognizable. Jim frowns for a moment, but doesn't acknowledge her directly, instead voicing his question for both of them to hear.

"Where are we? Which intersection? Sentinel, I'm gonna guess that flying trick of yours works with some extra weight." While he could have just told them both to get the hell away from him, he had an idea... one that might serve to play in his political bout of chess with Gotham's less informed leadership.

From her darkened patch of cover, Domino's face might look more like a ghostly apparition than another person. The shrug that follows is entirely human. "Just making an observation, kiddo. Either take the line down or ..do your flying trick with the guy, if you want. Whatever you do, I would recommend that you do it soon."

One more glance is passed over to Jim, the albino's expression set in a tight frown. Who did this to the guy..? The same people that took him from the hospital and nearly turned her into road pizza? Something is seriously not right here. This isn't the time nor place to get the answers which she seeks. It's time to leave, even if she only just got here a moment ago. All of that work just to climb on up here, too..! At least she's thorough while on the job.

Sentinel uses his ring to form an energy mold of Gordon's body from top to bottom, leaving a blank space for his face so he can breath. Only once the Commissioner is secure does he break the restraints holding him in place. "Move very slowly. If anything hurts badly, I can immobilize you in case something is broken." At the question, he nods but doesn't answer directly. "What do you have in mind?" To Domino, he says "Thank you but we'll be fine."

With a surprised blink-blink, Gordon watches as Sentinel's ring performs more impossible feats, following which a little smirk forms on his face. "I think they left me in one piece. That was the point." He moves slowly as he climbs down from the spotlight, letting its full beam be cast up against the Sentinel's shield. "Mayor Klass seems to think every masked vigilante in this city is an enemy," he explains gruffly. "I'm going to try and prove him wrong."

He tests his limbs a bit, wincing a bit at some residual pain, but indeed, nothing is broken. Especially not his will. "The police will have set a perimeter two blocks in all directions. Assuming we're not out in the burbs, we should be working with grid-streets. You take me to an alleyway, a pay phone, anywhere, but make it at least ten blocks away, and we'll make a phone call. You stay with me until help arrives, then get the hell out before they start shooting at you." Then he turns to look toward the woman in shadow, peering toward her beneath spectacles, of which one lens is cracked. "Just who the hell are you?"

Right before diving off the edge of the building, Domino hesitates and watches the two. Well, the one with the green stuff, mostly. "That is some freaky stuff, right there..." Fortunately, it's also happening over -there- and not any closer to her. But, she waited too long to leave. Now Jim's up and he's looking her way. Crud.

"Someone with a job to do," she promptly replies. One swift backward roll off the rooftop later and she's catching the zipline and getting the heck off of that roofline. Jim should be used to shadowy, mysterious people dressed in black by now.

Sentinel runs a hand over his hair and gazes at Gordon. "We're somewhere in Chinatown." he says as he considers the 'plan'. "You want me to kidnap you and take you way from all the police who are here to rescue you and that will somehow help convince them that all 'masks' aren't the enemy?" He'd have offered to help the woman 'escape' as well but she's gone.

"Well, now that -she's- gone," murmurs Gordon, "it might not be necessary." He turns back around to face Sentinel, studying the man curiously. "You sure bullets won't hurt you?" he asks. "Because we could just stay here, and I can order them to stand down, but some of these guys are gonna develop an itchy trigger finger when they see..." He pauses, motioning toward his ridiculous outfit. "This." He looks back at Sentinel with a frown. "They'll blame you. So get the hell out of here when they show up. I'll manage the damage control."

I"ll stick around till I'm certain you're safe." Sentinel says in a tone that says it's not up for discussion. "They can't hurt me and I won't need to act against them so it'll just make them look foolish if they try to claim I'm some sort of threat. But speaking of safe..." He places a hand on the Commissioner's shoulder and there's a flash of green from under his hand. While there's no immediate effect, Gordon's natural healing factor has been supercharged and he's going to be fully healed in an incredibly short time compared to what it would have taken. He's not likely to get sick for a while either.

Gordon offers a half-hearted smile to Sentinel. He truly did appreciate the assistance, but he's just so tired and worn out that he can't give the man the real thanks he deserves. "Well, that's good," he says, but the words are almost immediately cut off when Sentinel places a hand on his shoulder. There's a bit of a gasp that comes from the Commissioner, but he looks back up at the hero, and doesn't need to ask.

Nor is there time to.

The rooftop access door is kicked open, and cops start to pour out one after the other. "You! Hands off the Commissioner!" Weapons are brandished and aimed, but nobody opens fire. Not with how close their target is to the supposed hostage.

Gordon's frown quickly returns, and he spins right about to look at his officers. "This man is -not- a criminal," he declares, finding a sudden strength in his chest. "Now stand down and lower your weapons. That's an order."

Sentinel glances over his shoulder as the door is kicked in but truly doesn't appear concerned. He must be telling the truth about being bullet proof. Turning, he lightly clasps his hands behind his back in a pseudo parade rest stance.

At first, the police officers don't listen. While nobody opens fire, the Commissioner's words have caught them off guard. The marked Lieutenant who has formed up alongside of the others seems to give Gordon a harsh stare. It's a stand off.

"I said," repeats Gordon, "Lower your weapons." His voice is commanding as it ever was, and filled with dedication.

"Sir..." says the Lieutenant.

"Lieutenant Brown!"

Brown motions to the left. "Do what he says. Lower your weapons and hold your fire."

Gordon releases a sigh of pent up concern, then turns back toward Sentinel. "I think that's your cue to disembark." He smiles his thanks. "Thanks, pal."

"You're welcome, Commissioner." Sentinel answers and turns back to look at Gordon. "Contact me if you need me. Gentlemen." he says to the officers and gives them a nod before the energy shield above them dissipates and he flies off, detouring slightly to av oid the helicopters.

There is a brief hesitation as the police officers, not to mention Gordon himself, watch with a bit of awe as the Sentinel takes off into the sky. It's Lieutenant Brown who speaks first, ordering the cops to close in on Gordon.

"Jim," says Brown, approaching the Commissioner quickly. "My God, it's good to see you. Are you okay?"

"I'm... well, I'll be fine, Jack, I'll be fine."

"We gotta get you to a hospital."

"No! No hospitals. Take me back to Precinct One." He glances off to the sky once more, eyeing the helicopters and the last spot he'd seen Sentinel. "We've got work to do."