2013.07.28 - At The Drop Of A Coin

The Second Bank of Gotham sits stalwart, an old building dating back to the 19th century. It's been closed up for the night, like most of the businesses in the area and so the streets are deserted. The police do the occasional drive by on patrol but who would be mad enough to try and steal from a bank at night when there's nobody around to bust it open?

That question answers itself when, across the street in a parking garage, the headlights on an armored van flick on. A moment later the engine revs and the tires screech in protest against the pavement. It takes off, hurtling out of the garage at great speed.

The van is caught under a street light for a moment, giving anyone who might happen to witness the whole affair a momentary glimpse of it. One side is pristine and white as though it has been freshly washed, the other is scratched and thickly encrusted with dirt.

It launches briefly from the ground as it hurtles up the ramp and onto the street. It shows no signs of stopping as it thumps across the embankment between lanes, up onto the curb and then straight through the heavy doors of the Bank. It disappears into the gloom, leaving a partially-destroyed entryway behind it.

At the tone, the time will be 2:22 AM.

There are creatures of the night who prowl through the streets. The Batman is the greatest and most feared of them, and his collection of allies fall under that category.

But the night has eyes everywhere, and from the darkness a pair of feline eyes is able to observe the vehicle- how it rushes madcap ... ~Drunken driver?~ thinks Vorpal, the Cheshire cat. And then the vehicle rushes closer to the bank, and then it blasts into the heavy doors and does not stop.

~Criminals.~

A sleek, strong form stands up from the ledge upon which it was perched and leaps towards the darkness, jumping across rooftops and running towards the entrance of the bank. This was the most daring attempt he had ever seen against a bank. As he approaches the portal into the inside of the building, he summons illusory shadows to cling to him and make his purple fur less visible. Only then, does he lean into the gaping hole that was the porticus and looks inside to see what, exactly, is going on.

Inside, the van looks worse for wear. The pristine side is as scratched and scuffed as the dirty side and the headlights are broken and sparking. The vehicle itself sits half-mounted atop one of the teller counters, the wood and glass battered and splintered beneath it. The alarms are already sounding but it doesn't seem to dissuade the would-be bank robbers.

The rear door of the van swings open, clanging and only opening part-way thanks to the weird angle. A group of five men, two dressed in white and three in black, climb out with automatic weapons in hand. They wear the same outfit save for the color, a boiler suit with padded elbows and knees and a ski mask pulled down over their faces. They immediately split up, moving to different areas of the bank's lobby.

"Heh heh heh" a gravelly voice laughs from within the van, "Hate waiting. The kid was going to take all night."

Two-Face climbs out of the van last, an antique-looking Tommy gun clasped in his scarred left hand. He flicks a coin into the air as he exits, catching it expertly in his palm.

His voice changes into something smoother, honeyed and reasonable, "And now we've got ten minutes before Gotham's Finest show up. Or Him."

The vigilante quickly ducks back, his heart nearly exploding in his heart. Two-Face. He was the only one on the scene... and it was Two-Face.

The Joker had nearly killed him. A rookie hero wasn't supposed to tarry with these creatures. But he was the only one there.

~You can do this... just don't be a big hero. Scare them off, prevent from stealing... you don't have to catch Two-Face. That's Batman's job. Your job is to protect the bank.~

The Cheshire cat nods to himself, and remembers what he did to Death's Head. If only he could pull something as clever.

He becomes invisible this time, and walks through the front door quietly.

~Don't go into action just yet. Observe what he is doing and what he is going to do with his henchmen. Maybe you can exploit his henchmen...~

Of course... he already had an idea. But he had to put it in practice at the right time.

He stuck to the walls to get a good angle on what Two-Face and his gangsters were about to do, and also to get a good view of the room in which he would be operating.

"What the hell?" a panicked, youthful voice calls from the rear of the bank.

A man dressed in the white version of the outfit Two-Face's gang are wearing, but much slighter in stature, comes running from the rear of the building. A welding mask has been drawn back over his head and a utilitarian pack is slung over one shoulder.

"Mr. Face," the man with the welding mask calls, approaching Two-Face who flips the Coin as he listens, "I told you I need two hours. I've only been at it for one. The vaults a Class Three! I can't just - ERK!"

His words are cut off as Two-Face's scarred, left hand grabs him by the throat and forces him heavily against the side of the van. The voice is growling and menacing again, the malevolent tones from before.

"Open it. Now. Or we're gonna play a little game of gut Calvin like a fish. Got me?"

He yanks Calvin the gangster away from the van and sends him scrambling back the way he came, spouting a torrent of agreement and praise for the decision.

"Maybe Cal needs a little hustling along ..." Once more he flips the coin into the air. Catching it.

"No. He'll get it done."

"Chance is a word void of sense; nothing can exist without a cause."

The voice seems to come from everywhere. It reverberates softly in the bank... and then, out of the darkness above, two enormous eyes open. Feline eyes. A sickle-moon grin, a cheshire grin, appears in the air, and it speaks again, "Voltaire said that, you know?"

The actual Cheshire moves again along the wall, trying to get a clear view of the man's back. He's positioned his illusion just so...

~Come on, Come on, don't screw this up....~

Even as the voice begins to speak, Two-Face's coin is flipping high through the air. He holds out his right hand, catching it in his palm as it land's unscarred side up.

"I took French literature as a minor in college" the smooth voice of Harvey Dent replies, "Can't say that I agree with Monsieur Arouet"

Though the desire to attack straight away is suppressed, the gun is still held tight and his finger is still curled around the trigger. Down below, the industrial sounds of Calvin going to work on the vault echo up the stairway.

"I'm going to give you the opportunity to leave here. Alive and unharmed. You can chalk that one up to chance."

"I am afraid, my dear wild card, that that is simply not an option. We have guests waiting for you... it is, is it not, your un-birthday?"

The sickle-moon smile becomes a full on grin. The cat slips quietly towards the entrance to the lower level. Turning around, he gestures.

"Oh... look... he's here already...." The eyes and the grin vanish, and suddenly there is a slight shadow. Pointed ears, broad shoulders, that slips past the front door. Then it projects itself onto a wall, looming and ominous before vanishing as a figure runs upwards, towards the manager's office. The cat hopes that's enough of an enticement to make Two-Face run upstairs as he makes his way downstairs quietly so he can take care of the goons first. But he needs Two-Face out of the lobby.

"I am afraid, my dear wild card, that that is simply not an option. We have guests waiting for you... it is, is it not, your un-birthday?"

The sickle-moon smile becomes a full on grin. The cat slips quietly towards the entrance to the lower level. Turning around, he gestures.

"Oh... look... he's here already...." The eyes and the grin vanish, and suddenly there is a slight shadow. Pointed ears, broad shoulders, that slips past the front door. Then it projects itself onto a wall, looming and ominous before vanishing as a figure runs upwards, towards the manager's office. The cat hopes that's enough of an enticement to make Two-Face run upstairs as he makes his way downstairs quietly so he can take care of the goons first. But he needs Two-Face out of the lobby.

Two-Face opens his mouth, raising his hand slightly as though readying some verbal riposte. But then the inner-conflict bubbles over and he takes the Coin once again and flips it. Scarred side up.

"The Bat doesn't quote Voltaire" he growls, taking aim with his gun, "Light this Mad Hatter wannabe jackass up."

Two-Face and the three goons dressed in black open fire, spraying the place where they momentarily glanced the shadow with searing lead. They catch the place where the eyes and mouth appeared too, taking no chances.

"Come on" Two-Face calls over the roar of gunfire, "Where're the batarangs? Where're the gadgets?"The plan is working, though slower than would be ideal. Two-Face slowly stalks towards the place where he saw the shadow, shooting the whole while.

Racing down on silent feet, the cat comes across Cal. He studies the man quickly, and then becomes visible again as he manifests a large club- in the shape of a flamingo, because it adds flair. Cal receives a good whack with it and falls to the ground, unconscious.

"Time for phase two..."

The cat becomes invisible and quickly runs upstairs. He wants to see what Two-Face has been up to upstairs, but at least he is relieved that their expert isn't going to be able to get the vault open.

"Nothing" Two-Face growls, kicking over the bank manager's bullet-riddled desk with an angry shout once the shooting stops, "We're being played."

The Coin flips. Unscarred.

"Get Calvin on the radio" Two-Face demands with the voice of Harvey Dent, "Find out how much longer he needs."

One of the thugs in white nods and reaches for his walkie talkie, "Cal? Report."

The dead silence falls over the group like a pall. The only sound is the flipping of the Coin.

Scarred.

"Get the C4 and get down there. Kill anything that moves."

The Cheshire frowns as he gets upstairs and hears this. Dodging to the side in his invisible form, he makes a quick gesture. For one...or three seconds, all illumination seems to stop as a darkness so deep that it was almost palpable descended over the area. But it passes quickly, as if it had been just a cloak being draped over the area.

But something had changed Instead of the thug with the radio, there stood The Batman himself, eyes of endless fury glaring at Two-Face.

Two-Face doesn't hesitate. The way he's constantly flipping the Coin means he doesn't need to take several seconds to make his decision. His eye alights on the scarred side and then, when he glances back up to see Batman, he fires.

The unfortunate thug behind the illusion is riddled with bullets, the entire drum emptied into him. Two-Face's perpetual snarl alights on the illusory Batman that drops dead to the ground. He nudges it with a wingtipped foot.

"Not him."

Turning, he gestures to the other thugs and directs them towards the stairs to the vault, "Put Cal out of his misery. We're not even."

"Oh, but you are done, my dear sir. The Cheshire cat deems it so!"

The voice comes right from behind Dent, where two of his goons are standing.

And tonight, you are a guest of Wonderland. We will eat you all up... just like spaghetti!"

The cat crouches low to the ground, waiting for Two-Face to turn around and give his back to him.

"I swear, if this is you, Tetch, then I'm gonna make you choke on that stupid hat of yours."

Two of the goons, the last two in black, are both gunned down as Two-Face spins on his heals and fires mercilessly at the illusion. The two that remain alive and conscious, both in white, stand stunned.

~Keep giving me ideas....~

Looking at the two goons, the Cheshire cat summons two glowing, purple anvils over their heads. They are large enough for a serious hit, perhaps to knock them out, as they fall towards them.

"There are no Hatters here, dear man. The Cheshire cat likes to play... alone. So let's get rid of all these extraneous people, wouldn't you say?"

Vorpal feels his heart beating hard against his chest. This game was dangerous, but he had to maintain the element of surprise. If he could take the henchmen out of the game, then he could either face Two-Face... or force him to retreat. He doubted he could make the formidable villain retreat... and facing him was a tricky, risky thing. But this was his duty, and he couldn't back away from it.

Two-Face turns in time to see the last two thugs fall unconscious to the ground, Tommy gun still held at his hip and his good eye narrowing warily. He frees up his right hand to flip the Coin, glancing down to see the scarred side looking up at him.

"Don't know about you" he growls, turning slowly back and forth to watch the different ways he could be approached, "But I like to plan ahead. Figured the Bat'd turn up eventually. Looks like he's not"

He reaches into his pocket, producing a small, hand-held control with a blinking red light on it. He nods his head towards the crashed van, half-grinning.

"Heads Tails"

He balances the coin on his thumb and speaks up, "Now show yourself. I don't want to play to an empty audience."

Two-Face turns in time to see the last two thugs fall unconscious to the ground, Tommy gun still held at his hip and his good eye narrowing warily. He frees up his right hand to flip the Coin, glancing down to see the scarred side looking up at him.

"Don't know about you," he growls, turning slowly back and forth to watch the different ways he could be approached, "But I like to plan ahead. Figured the Bat'd turn up eventually. Looks like he's not, but you'll do."

He reaches into his pocket, producing a small, hand-held control with a blinking red light on it. He nods his head towards the crashed van, half-grinning.

"Heads, I come quietly. Tails, you either let me go or I turn the whole place into a crater."

He balances the coin on his thumb and speaks up, "Now show yourself. I don't want to play to an empty audience."

The cat moved slowly, trying to get close to the arm holding the control. In front of Two-Face, about ten feet away, an illusory version of Vorpal appeared. The Cheshire crosses his arms and speaks, "Very well. Throw the coin."

~Just get close enough for a lunge...~ the invisible cat thinks. Tiger style lunge, get the arm caught in a downward thrust to meet his rising knee at the elbow, cause him to drop the control... if he got that right, then Two-Face would have no choice but to escape.

He waited, though, to see what the toss of the coin would be.

Two-Face, true to his word, flips the Coin.

His eyes stay stuck on his adversary, not even checking to make sure the Coin remains on it's trajectory. The Coin falls into his waiting palm and he looks at it.

"Heads."

He doesn't sound frustrated or vexed in any way. He simply lets the gun and control clatter to the ground and holds out his hands as though expecting to be handcuffed.

Vorpal isn't going to lie. It feels as if he nearly had a heart attack, right then and there. He stands up and appears next to Two-Face as the illusory Vorpal remains where it is. "Two face, you are under arrest," he says, producing the handcuffs from his uniform and moving to cuff the criminal. He was trying to remain completely and absolutely calm, becaue he was going to have a bit of a breakdown after everything was said and done.

"That I am," Two-Face answers, the voice completely free of all the aggression and malice that filled it not long ago.

He doesn't resist as he's cuffed, looking up for a moment when the police sirens sound in the distant and it becomes clear that the GCPD will be here before long.

Suitably cuffed, he turns and walks out through the hole that was once the door and sits down on the curb. He's done.

"...this man is as mad as a hatter...." Vorpal says quietly to himself and stands close to Two-Face, waiting for the GCPD to arrrive in order to answer their questions, as someone affiliated with the BSA.

He was going to have nightmares over this man. The Joker was one kind of insanity, this man was just as gone... but in such a different way, the young man couldn't understand what it must be like to live in a head like that.

"Vorpal... BSA...." he says, his voice tighter than he wants to when the police arrives. He does his best not to look at Two-Face. He knows he got lucky. Chance had saved him.

Maybe Two-Face was right, and Voltaire was wrong, after all.