2014.04.11 - Colors On Parade

The Museum District does not typically play host to Gotham’s criminal element. As a fairly upscale area, the only kinds of crimes that go on here are on the price tags in the boutiques. That is, until someone gets it in their head to rob the Gotham Museum. After all, a giant building full of priceless artefacts in a city full of criminals? It’s a recipe for trouble.

At the rear of the Museum a pair of security guards lay slumped against the outside wall, their peaked caps askew and sopping, bloody wounds on the chests of their uniforms. A group of men, each wearing a suit of a different vivid color – red, orange, blue, violet, green, yellow and pink. Seven men all together. Six of them work in pairs, each carrying different works towards a waiting truck. The man in violet sits behind the wheel, leaning out the window to look at the rearview mirror.

Following up behind is a bizarrely dressed man in a patchwork suit different colors. He holds a pistol in his hand and a supercilious sneer upon his face. No alarm sounds. The crooks must have somehow managed to cut it.

“Quick,” the man in the patchwork suit demands, voice shrill and harsh, “On the truck. Get them all on the truck now.”

Usually this area is the bailiwick of thieves like Catwoman or that upstart Black Cat. Slinking in, pilfering some shiny gemstone or necklace and skulking off again. Tonight it seems to be a different matter.

Batwoman stands atop a nearby building watching the scene with an grim expression. The black of her armor contrasts the almost ghostly white of her cheeks and jaw and the blood red of her lips and hair. After a moment she freefalls off the edge of the building and draws her cape out, gliding silently over to the museum's rooftop. She needs to get inside.

The men in their brightly-colored suits load their paintings into the back of the

The inside of the Museum’s art’s wing has almost been emptied out. The paint of the walls is partly faded in places where artworks that have hung there for years are now missing. The men in their colored suits work on unfastening the last few from their mountings on the wall, Mr. Green and Mr. Blue chatting with each other as they do so.

“Can’t believe I’m doing this,” Blue says with a shake of his head as he hefts a Cézanne down from the wall, “I mean the Joker? Two-Face? That’s one thing. But who even is this guy?”

“Shhh!” Green hisses through his teeth, glancing nervously over his shoulder towards the loading dock, “You want to argue with the guy who dresses up like a fuckin’ quilt? At least the Joker dresses up as a clown. Clowns is ‘’scary’’. Quilts, though? This guy is legit insane.”

“Crazy Quilt,” Blue snorts, barely supressing a laugh, “What a fuckin’ name.”

“God damnit, Elroy, I swear,” Green growls, “If you get us killed before we can split the take on this I’m gonna haunt you!”

Batwoman isn't here for the art theft. She was actually here to break in to study a particular painting if far more.. intrusive fashion than art critics and conservationists would decry. It just so happens that there is a heist. And it really annoys her. At least she can blame the damage on the thieves right? Dropping down to the rooftop she gazes through one of the sky lights. Prying it open Batwoman slips inside and perches, surveying the layout. Adding up the number of thugs and formulating her plan of attack.

“Hurry,” the patchwork-suited man, Crazy Quilt, demands as he hustles back into the Museum proper, “Quickly quickly quickly! Is that ‘’L’Estaque’’? Ooo!”

Blue rolls his eyes as he hauls the painting by Crazy Quilt, who suddenly stops the man by placing a hand firmly on his shoulder.

“Hand the painting to Mr. Green there,” Crazy Quilt asks of Blue, his voice oozing saccharine sweetness, “I’ve got a special job for you.”

Obediently, Blue hands the painting off to Green with a look of puzzlement on his face. The moment the painting has left his hands, Quilt strikes Blue brutally across the jaw with the butt of his pistol. The man immediately topples to the floor, Quilt atop him and laying blow after blow upon his head.

“Are you mocking me?!” Quilt screams, eyes wide and wild as the man struggles in vain beneath him, “Do you think I’m a ‘’joke’’?! Are you laughing ‘’now’’?!”

Batwoman doesn't need to wait any longer. While she enjoys the sight of a criminal beating his own men into submission, that distraction can only last so long. She drops off of her perch, her cape faning out to slow the fall - Batman has cool toys but so does she. As she descends she crosses her arms in front of her and then spreads them - throwing a half dozen batarangs, formerly the small scallops on her gauntlets. The crimson weapons whistle through the air and arc toward the various thugs in the room intent on striking and stunning while she seeks to drop and dispatch Crazy Quilt first. He's the most unstable. Clearly.

Only two of Crazy Quilt’s thugs remain inside the Museum and one of them was being beaten to a pulp moments ago. The batarang hits Green in his hand, causing him to yowl with pain and drop the painting to the marble floor with a clatter.

“Huh?” the Quilt manages to get out before Batwoman lands on him, thudding to the floor noisily and letting out a shout of pain. Meanwhile, Blue rolls onto his stomach and slowly tries to crawl away.

“Waitwaitwait—“ a voice outside begins before Mr. Yellow comes sailing backwards through the door to the loading dock, landing in a heap not far away. There, following after his victim into the Gallery, is the Batman.

Batwoman introduced her knees to Quilt's spleen on landing. Kicking off of his hips she rolled to the side, coming up in a crouch. As she settles, she strikes out with her leg toward Quilt's left knee with intention to crumple him to the floor. At the same time her head snaps toward the exit. Him. Figures.

Turns back to Quilt and seeks to lay him out. The goons aren't as much of a threat. This guy is just unstable.

Crazy Quilt stops moving fairly soon. For all his insanity there is little he can do to stand up to an assault from Batwoman. He squirms in pain, doing little more than trying to curl up into the fetal position as he groans.

“Get ready,” Batman demands, looking down at Batwoman as he strides up alongside her and turns back to the door he just entered from, “They’re coming.”

On cue, Misters Yellow, Red, Orange and Pink charge through the door ready to fight. Maybe they’re new in town. Maybe they’re hopped up on drugs. Or maybe they’re just as crazy as the guy employing them.

Pink is the first into the fray, leaping towards Batwoman in a dive tackle as Red charges at Batman.

Batwoman doesn't stop with Quilt till she's got him cuffed behind the back. "Stay down.' Her voice cold and threatening.

Rising up, she looks to Batman and smirks. There's no need to reply and really no time as the rest of the 'crew' comes charging back in.

It has to be somewhat unnerving or surreal to see The Batman and then Batwoman not far away. And then the fray begins. They're certainly no pushover. Probably amped up indeed. Regardless, Batwoman is no untrained wannabe. As Pink comes flying toward the red maned vigilante, she side steps a clumsy attack and delivers a vicious uppercut. The kind where the teeth snap shut so hard it echoes in the room. Pink crumples to the floor but begins to get back up again. Yeah. Has to be amped up on something. The first blow is followed by another in an attempt to keep Pink down and out.

Batman dispatches his own assailant without fanfare. He simply catches his arm, twisting it in the air and using Red’s own momentum to turn him over onto his back. His knee is dropped to the man’s face in a single, fluid motion that leaves him unconscious on the floor. Rising to his feet, Batman lunges at the remaining Mr. Orange while Mr. Yellow kicks a foot out at Batwoman.

“Drivers already taken care of,” Batman growls, driving his boot into Orange’s stomach, “Clean up detail. Why are you here?”

Batwoman secures Pink and makes sure the thug has no hidden weapons. Then walks over to Blue who is still trying to crawl away from his Quilt-caused beating. Her foot rests on his shoulders. "Hands behind your back. Your face can't hold up to another beating." The threat seems to work well enough as Blue quickly complies and is cuffed. Only then does she reply to Batman. "Art appreciation. Just like you." And with that she scans the room. The painting she's after is a lesser known relatively valueless work by a local artist. How it got placed the the museum is anyone's guess. Batwoman has her suspicions. Spotting it off in a small alcove featuring local talent, she proceeds toward the painting without explanation. She doesn't work in the city at His approval after all. Does she do it to piss him off? Not directly but she can't possibly think it would do otherwise.

Yellow's kick misses its mark and he's caught across the throat by Batman's forearm before he can make another attempt. A moment later he lies on the floor as Batman proceeds to bind his hands and feet, moving from injured thug to injured thug in order to bind the rest of them up as well.

"No games," Batman growls, standing up and drawing his cape around himself, "Talk. Now."

He's had a rough time of late. Injuries. The Joker running amok. It's all adding up and it shows in a grimmer, less patient Dark Knight with no time for this.

Batwoman shakes her head. "You need to work on your bedside manner. People will thing you're antisocial." She stands before the painting in question before continuing, "I've got my own cases to work on. Stay out of my way and I'll stay out of yours. Isn't that the usual arrangement?" She takes out a small aerosol bottle and carefullys mists the painting in front of her. Taking out a small blacklight she shines it on the painting before reaching up to touch the temple of her cowl, apparently taking pictures of what she sees or at least scanning it. About the time Batman finished dispatching his goons and, should he choose to confront her directly/would be within arm's reach, she's finished. She turns toward him. "I'm done here. No paintings were harmed in the process." She doesn't seem to intimidate easily. Not that she disrespects the imposing man before her. She just doesn't fear him.

“Next time pay a little more attention to dealing with these,” Batman nudges the unconscious Quilt with his boot, “And less with satisfying your own curiosity.”

He’s irritated but she raises a valid point. He wants her to stay out of his way and, so, he’ll have to stay out of hers. Nevertheless, there is a mild interest in what exactly she’s here to investigate. He looks at the painting on the wall, making a mental note to come back and investigate later to see just what might have drawn her to it.

“Police are on the way,” he tells her flatly, drawing the grapnel gun from his belt and aiming it at the skylight high above, “You should leave.”

Batwoman looks at him, almost his height. "I used appropriate force, detained my targets and you handled yours easily enough. You may have been here for them. I wasn't. And yet I still did half your job for you. You're welcome." As he rises on that grapel line and leaves she turns. She knew he saw the painting. So naturally she turns and removes it from the wall, slicing it out of its frame and rolling it up, she slips out the exit and on her way. The Kane family owned the painting to begin with. It isn't that she's stealing it or defacing it.

For a moment, he considers taking the painting back. Her family may own it but it's still stealing as far as he's concerned. But there are bigger problems in Gotham. He simply raises a brow, frowning at her cutting the painting free.

"Childish."

He doesn't wait for a response, instead firing the grapnel at the skylight. He makes eye contact with her one more time before ascending to the roof at a clip, disappearing through the skylight and out into the evening.

Batwoman quips as he makes final eye contact. "Like you don't cover your tracks." What's good for the Gander is good for the Goose. And she departs as well.