2012-07-13 Breaking the Bank

Remy takes a deep breath through his nose, holds it for a few seconds, then lets it out slowly through his mouth. His visit to the Emerald City started out as a brief diversion during a long layover. Now he's on a hot streak. He's been on one for what feels like hours. One thing's for certain, his flight departed a long time ago. Having made a circuit through the poker tables, the roulette wheels, and the crap shoots, the Cajun has picked blackjack as his lastest endeavor. A rapidly growing pile of chips and a ring of onlookers are a testament to his success. A very expensive-looking redhead has draped herself across one of his shoulders. She occasionally whispers something in his ear, but her voice is never heard by anyone else. Behind them, a ring of security guards (both uniformed and plainclothes) have surrounded the table. Even farther back, other gamblers have given up on their own pursuits so they can observe. And Remy's not the only one they're watching. Jason Todd. When he wandered into the Emerald City Casino he looked more like a nobody than anybody. But for some strange reason, he's managed to turn his Nobody into a Somebody. Because he's been here for hours, himself, working the Slots, Poker Tables, Crap Shoots and Roulette Wheels... in that order. And, somehow, he was cleaning house.

Jason had no other reason to be at the Blackjack Table other than the fact that he hasn't hit that part of the casino up yet. Which is why he's already sitting down. He's got anywhere from five to seven ladies forming a semi-circle around him and he's got trays of chips stacked upon each other at his elbow. He's leaned back in his seat, nice and relaxed, while he barely pays attention to the latest entrant to the table.

There's only room for two high rollers at this table, as the other two seats are taken up by a mostly chipless gambling addict and some down home country boy with that Texas oil money.

If Jason Todd is being watched, he doesn't let on that he knows. In fact, he's pretty oblivious. He seems to be paying more attention to the Girltourage that's all over him.

The redhead tugs at Remy's lapels and gives him another quiet purrrrr. He's dressed for the occasion, wearing a white-on-white-on-white suit that matches all the way to his gloves. "Sounds fun," he replies aloud to his companion's quiet suggestion. Then, apparently at her prompting, he places a one-hundred thousand dollar bet that barely puts a dent in his stack of chips. Calm and confident, he swivels his head to meet the eyes of his fellow gamblers in turn, though his own are concealed by a pair of glasses with heavy, plum-tinted lenses. "I t'ink it be time for de kids to get outta de pool," he says. "Dis crowd come to see action, no?"

Perhaps the polar opposite of the White on White is Jason in his casual wear. He's forever looking the Pauper in this particular group at the Blackjack table. He's rocking just jeans and a black t-shirt. His signature red hoodie is on, as usual and there's no getting him out of his black leather jacket. He's never really been one for tradition. Jason goes against the grain on purpose.

Sweaty McHusband puts all of his last chips in for the bet, because that's all he's got. Dallas Reject is in with his chip too. When it finally gets to Jason, he merely smirks and nods at one of his girls. She takes the needed chip from the tray and flicks it off for betting purposes. "Here's hopin' they brought a translator. Because what the fuck, man." Jason flashes a challenging grin off in Remy's direction as he kicks off a response to the usual Casino Trash Talking that goes down in these situations.

The Cajun seems awfully comfortable for someone who just put six figures on the line in a game that rarely takes more than sixty seconds to finish. He smiles even wider when his cards are dealt. Careful counting has paid off, especially now that they've reached the final deck in the shoe. As anticipated, his top card is the ace of spades. And his hole card... His hole card is less important. When a barman arrives with two glasses of champagne, Remy flips him a chip with '10,000' printed boldly across the face. He uses the distraction to his advantage, swapping out his hole card for one the barman has concealed under his tray. The exchange is fast, fluid, and virtually invisible. Now that the nobodies are all in, Remy and the man in the leather jacket are the only two high-rollers in play. With his subterfuge accomplished, that means Remy's only paying attention to one other guy at this table. "My accent is sexy," he replies, reaching up to brush an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder. Then he returns the grin. "Nice coat." He chucks a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the duster draped across the back of his chair. "Mine's bigger."

Jason merely keeps a smirk on his face as his top card is the Jack of Spades. He doesn't really even look at anyone but his girls at this point, making sure that all of them get a chance to kiss him. One of which has removed his hole card, whilst another one has replaced it with something else. The amount of cleavage and general sexual energy on this side of the table makes the switch so smooth and so seamless that even the girls that did it don't know they did it.

Jason's attention is back on Remy the moment he comes up for air and he merely tosses the Annoying Accenter a nod. "Mine fits better." With that, he reaches up to pop the collar on his girthy leather jacket, since they are playing this game of Jacket Envy. "Doesn't it, girls?"

The drunk moaning that happens in response to that from Jason's Girltourage is enough to have the dealer calling to get this show on the road. Sheesh. High Rollers.

When his turn comes around, Remy draws a hand across his throat, making the universal sign for 'cut it off.' Apparently, he's happy with the cards he has. He hands one of the champagne flutes to his ginger-haired companion, scoops up the other, and clinks the rim of his glass against hers. Then he salutes his fellow gambler, lifting his glass high into the air. "To breaking de bank," he offers. He only sips after the toast, but the redhead certainly isn't shy. The pit boss doesn't seem to appreciate Remy's salute. Or his confidence. He's watching from a balcony above them and his expression has grown less and less pleasant each time one of the two men rakes in another pot. When he spots nearly a half-million dollars worth of chips in play, he keys his FBI-style earpiece and speaks into the transmitter. In response, the circle of security tightens. Unfortunately for them, they're too late to spot anything but exposed flesh.

Jason, to his credit, is also waving to cut off the cards. His are just the way he needs them to be. He's not adept at counting or anything, but he's adept at making sure that he wins. And that's just all he cares about right now. "Breaking? Or robbing blind?" Jason's lips curl up into a smirk, though he does lift his bottle of beer for the 'across the table' toasting that goes down. He's not really into the whole fancy schmancy school of drinking. He'd much rather just go down with a brewskie.

The dealer is all ready. He flips his horrible cards over and is already motioning for the two high rollers to do their thing. Jason's confidence won't let him do anything but flip his hand and out comes the Ace of Spades. Which coupled with the Jack of Spades top card...

The redhead plucks at Remy's collar and offers another quiet suggestion, her lips hovering a hair's breadth from his ear. His eyebrows shoot up so fast that they nearly disappear into his hairline. "Mon poussin!" he exclaims. Partly scandalized and partly intrigued, he wags a finger reproachfully. "I'm a gentleman. And you... You're a very, very bad girl." When his attention is called back to the table, he seems pleased at the sight of the dealer's cards. Jason's are more problematic. "Dere's no folding in blackjack?" Remy mutters. "Dis is most unfortunate." He hooks his top card under the bottom one and reveals them both. An ace and jack of spades. It's the moment the pit boss has been waiting for. He barks an order so loudly into his microphone that it can be heard by everyone on the suddenly silent casino floor. "GET 'EM!"

"Shit."

Jason Todd doesn't really seem like he's too upset or worried. It's mostly his chips that he's worried about. Casually and calmly, he motions for his girls to collect a tray of chips a piece and make with the disappearing because that's what they are very good at doing. In fact, considering the confusion and the rushing of security the moment that order is yelled, disappearing into the scattering crowd should not be a problem.

Jason, though, is looking at Remy across the table. "Great Minds, eh?" is all he has to say, before tossing a quick nod towards the oncoming casino security traffic that's running at them like there's hardly no tomorrow or something. There probably won't be if they get their hands on them. "So. Am I right in thinking that you're not in the business of going to jail?" It would almost seem as though Jason is unworried about what's coming towards them, the way his conversation is being kept so calm and light.

Security is already trying to pounce, batons whipped out and such as they try to get through the crowd of onlookers. It's going to take them at least another four to seven seconds. Easy.

"Merde." The sudden swarming of security guards is something Remy's prepared for, too. "Jail sound permanent, me. I'm just passin' t'rough." He extracts himself from the redhead's grip, scoops up a handful of poker chips, and springs nimbly onto the table. By the time he has his balance, his hand has been encompassed by a red, angry light. Grinning fiercly, he throws the chips into the thickest crowd of thugs he can find. Each one explodes on contact, filling the air with loud popping sounds and mostly harmless concussive blasts. Several goons are knocked off of their feet in the chaos, and another is taken down when Remy vaults from his perch and kicks him in the chest with both feet. "Woof!" he grunts, using his target to cushion his fall. "Hope dat answer your question. Name's Remy. What's yours, mon frere?"

"I love this part." Jason is slipping out of his stool and sidestepping to the left as a baton comes swinging his way. He reaches up, grabs and twists the threatening arm and flips the guard over and onto the blackjack table, the moment that Remy is no longer there. A quick elbow to the face and a ten grand chip is flicked off in the direction of the dealer. "Sit. Stay."

The dealer just drops back down behind the table. Safer. Richer.

By this time, Jason is already turning back to see security thugs headed in their direction from a direction that exploding chips didn't clear. "Jason. Jason Todd." He spins on his heels to put his back towards Remy, all the while coming out of his pocket with a handful of pellets that are sent sailing towards the thugs. They are less explosive but more flashy, as when they impact on the floor, they pop and flash and makke it very hard to see for those guys. Luckily, Jason and Remy are far enough away to not have to worry about such things. "It doesn't sound as epic without the Todd attached."

And Jason brings his fists up to block-nutkick, block-headbutt and then block-hiptoss a number of foolish thugs that get a little too close to where he's decided to stand his ground. Let the bodies hit the floor?

Let the bodies it the floor. There's no room to draw his staff, but that doesn't seem to bother Remy. When he lashes out he favors short, sharp kicks, straight-fingered jabs at vital areas, gratuitous footstomping, and similarly vicious tactics. Completely unashamed, he latches onto a guard's coinpurse with an iron-fingered grip and smashes him in the face with a forearm strike. "Speaking of epic," he comments, twisting his opponent's cash and prizes in the same way a regular person would squeeze water from a sponge. The man screams long after Remy drops him. "There's kind of a lot of these guys. Can you see any doors from here?" Activity In 2 Hero MUX 11:49 AM

Similarly, there's something about the way Jason fights, while there is certainly style and grace to the movements, there is also a raw brutality that comes from his movements. Arms are twisted and broken. Kneecaps are kicked in directions they shouldn't go. Faces are smashed. Blood leaks from many places on the security agents that find themselves getting too close to Jason. "Don't need to. I had the layout of this place memorized two weeks ago." Jason says, turning and hopping up onto the blackjack table once again. "You get us some space, I'll get us to the door." He's pretty sure Remy has some more of that explosive magic up his sleeve.

Crouching on the table, he proceeds to snatch the dealer's ID card off his vest and gives him a quick salute. "Okay. Now you can run."

"Consider it done," Remy replies. He scoops up his coat, shrugs into it, and digs two handfuls of playing cards from the pockets. An instant later, he's up on the table and standing back-to-back with Jason. "Ta mere suce des bites en enfer!" he cries. The the launches the charged cards to either side of them. Each one BOOMS like a small grenade, clearing a wide circle around their table. "After you, mon ami," The explosive Cajun offers. "I make sure nobody follow us." True to his word, he draws a handful of throwing spikes and uses one to pin a foolhardy guard's sleeve to the wall. "I'd stay down if I was you," he advises.

"If I swung the other way, I'd make a comment about how this is a match made in chaotic heaven. Instead, to ensure my heterosexuality, I'll simply say: That Was Badass." And then Jason is somersaulting off the table and breaking off in a quick run towards the slot machines. If he remembers correctly, this section of the casino is like a small maze. Which is always good to have when you're running for the exit. And the maze is always near the exit to trap people that keep trying to leave.

Guys come at him from either side and he decides to use them to get a leg up. He goes airborne, stomping right into one of their throats and launches himself at the other's skull, which gets a hefty stomp also, from which Jason can launch himself to the top of the slot machines. "Play the High Card, Remy!" is tossed over his shoulder to tell his Cheater in Arms to do the same.

Besides, it's easier to see the doors from up here.

Before he takes off, Remy scoops several handfuls of casino chips into his already bulging pockets. When he springs to the floor, he helps up his redheaded hanger-on and kisses her hand. "Goodbye, chaton," he offers her, along with a wistful smile. "You on my list, but not at de top." He waves grandly to the rest of the casino's patrons and sticks out a foot to trip another goon who decides to stand up. "Ladies and gentleman, is been a pleasure. Ladies, especially. Bonne chance! Hey! Jason! Wait up!" He sprints toward the slot machines, leaps into the air, and grabs onto a low-hanging chandelier. When he's swung out as far as he's able, he pushes himself free and lands next to his new partner in crime. "You pretty good at dis, too," Remy acknowledges. "I take it dis not your first rodeo." He throws another spike, severing the chain that runs from the still-swaying chandelier to the ceiling. It smashes several gaming machines when it hits the ground, scaring the crap out of people and blocking one entrance to the maze.

"I'm a rider from way back." Jason quips, sending a couple of his electrically charged shurikens to three or slot machines across the way. They immediately fry the machines enough that they all ring and flash with bells and whistles and lights for a Triple Jackpot. And that should help block another maze entrance via people who want to come and claim some money. Greed is always thing to use when escaping a venue of this much security.

Blam! Blam! Blam! That would be the sound of guns being fired off in their direction. It seems that the big guns are coming out now, because that Pit Boss has called for the more violent security enforcers to take over from here. "Ah, gunfire! I was wondering when that'd come into play." Jason takes and leaps off the slot machines, tucking and rolling the moment he hits the floor.... right next to one of the scantily clad waitresses who is frozen in shock at everything that's going on. "Nice shoes." is said to her, just to be a brat, while staying low because of the--

BLAM!

Jason's hand goes up to grab the chick by the cleavage and yank her out of the way, as the bullet passes right through where she just was standing and into the slot machine.

At least from this vantage point he can see the exit is right around this last aisle of slots and across that lobby floor. That... heavily guarded (and filling with more) lobby floor.

Remy stands his ground just long enough to charge and throw his last two spikes. These larger projectiles are deafeningly loud and devastatingly potent, clearing out the pursuit for a few seconds. Bullets still hiss, crack, and ping from all directions as he drops down next to Jason. "We surrounded," he confirms, raising his voice enough to be heard over the chaos. "But I still t'ink we got dem outnumbered." The Cajun seems to grow more and more relaxed as the fighting grows more and more intense. When someone approaches from the other side of the machines they're using as cover, he grabs the waitress by her skirt and yanks her out of another bullet's path. "Beg pardon, chere," he excuses himself, reaching across her to snag the man's wrist and catapault him into a roulette wheel.

"First thing you gotta' remember about Jason Todd. I'm never surrounded."

Jason smiles in the middle of all this and goes into his inside pocket to come out with what can only be described as a high end remote detonator. He grins as about seven blips on his screen are all green lit, as if they are armed and ready.

"If I know security, they've already got the doors sealed. You can handle that, right?" The question is asked, but Jason doesn't wait for an answer. Instead, he presses the awesome red button on the screen of his detonator and there's some flashing of the lights on the screen.

Back at the row of slot machines, small 'bat' shaped explosives are stuck to the backs of the machines. The 'eyes' of each are blinking with the same rapidity of the lights on his screen.

BOOM! BOOM! KABOOM! WACHOOM!

One after another the slot machines go up in mini-explosions designed to create more chaos and panic, as well as maybe take out anybody that's too close to them. Jason's up and running towards the crowd of gunmen guarding the doors. He cracks a smile, hurls a handful of smoke pellets at them, obscuring all kinds of vision and drops into a slide right towards them.

"Nice!" Remy crows, using the explosions and smoke as cover to follow Jason in. When his comrade slides in low, Remy takes the high road. He draws his staff on the run and triggers it to full extension. Using it as a pole, he vaults directly into the group of defenders, floors one with his weapon, and continues toward the door without breaking stride. When he reaches it, he discards the staff and slides to an unceremonious halt. "Ten seconds," he shouts over his shoulder. The glow that signifies an impending explosion is spreading out from his palms and into the door, but it's taking longer to get the job done. "Keep me clear for ten seconds!"

"Awww. Only ten seconds?"

Jason's slide allows him to trip up two of those pricks, before he's up and on his feet. He leaps up and into the air, spin kicking one, while grabbing the gun of another. His feet finally hit the ground, allowing him to twist and disarm the gun, let it drop and kick it into the groing of another oncoming rent-a-thug. His hands pull on the current target of his aggression and he shatters his nose with an open palm strike that has him dropping like a bad coke habit. Two more are incoming and taser-rangs are hurled at their shoulders. The wince is nothing compared to the shock that sends them toppling over onto each other, shaking and shuddering. Jason spins again, extended his arm to catch one particularly nasty jerk rushing for Remy with a sudden clothesline. The nasty thug's body goes up and so does Jason, kicking him in the back and sending him towards those previously tripped agents, who were just getting to their feet. WHUMP.

"Two seconds to spare. New record." Jason says as he walks up next to Remy. The fools behind them moan and groan in all different versions of pain, whilst that smoke starts to clear.

"C'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon-c'mon," Remy urges the completely inanimate door. Rather than wait the full ten seconds, he pulls away when Jason startles him. "Huh? What? Merde! C'mere!"

He hauls his heist partner to the floor none-too-gently. "Get down!" he shouts. "Cover your head!" And for good reason. The door is big. Heavy. When it detonates, the raw kinetic energy it releases knocks over everyone who's still standing. Already lying flat on his belly, Remy covers his ears just in time to avoid being deafened. "Mon dieu," he mutters as debris falls from cracked walls and damaged ceiling sections. When he peeks out from under his hands, he immediately inhales a lungful of dust and smoke. "Achoo!"

Jason wasn't even ready for what happened. To be perfectly honest, his instincts kicked in when he was yanked down and hands over ears and head down... all that is perfectly acceptable in this kind of dance. Right now, though, he's lifting his head up and coughing a bit too. "Bless you?"

Jason gets to his feet, smiling as he sees a pick up truck pull up right outside and in front. Timing is everything. "There's our ride. Time to cash out." Jason says, pulling on Remy to make sure he's up and at 'em, before he takes off through the hole that there is no longer a door for.

By now, the second wave of security is on the way from the other side of the casino. Which is not a good sign, as their guns are much bigger and have scopes and laser sighting.

A glance at those in the cab of the truck will show that they are the girls from Jason's Girltourage. They look less slutty and more sexy criminals with their new leather outfits. Jason tosses one of those explosive-rangs over his shoulder for Remy as he dives for the back of the truck.

"Oooh. Hello, gorgeous. Give us a smooch." Hot on Jason's heels, Remy catches the explosive, lifts it to his lips, and kisses it tenderly. A familiar red glow consumes it, illuminating a wicked grin. Like a seasoned pro, he whips the weapon around in a sidelong toss that sends it sailing through the doorway and into their mass of pursuers. Ka-BOOM! This is the biggest explosion they've seen thus far. As distant as he is, it still knocks Remy off his feet and sends him flying through the air. "Whoa-whut-whoaaaaashit!" he screams. THUNK! He smashes into Jason, sending them both sprawling in the bed of the truck. Remy comes to a halt with his cheek smooshed against the vehicle's rear window. "Mmmpphh. Bonsoir, ladies," he greets their rescuers.

Jason is already getting nice and comfortable while the truck is speeding off into the action and adventure of getting them the hell out of dodge. There's no sirens because, well, this isn't exactly the type of casino that likes to have a police response. Though, EMTs and such will surely be called later.

Jason just stares at Remy this entire time, while getting himself comfortable on the piles of duffle bags that are in the back of this truck. Duffle bags that are no doubt filled with money and moolah. It takes him a moment but Jason finally speaks again, "Nice toss."

Jason is then grabbing a duffle bag and sliding it across the truck towards Remy, whilst the girls inside are already taking this truck of money and men off into the desert for grand escapism.

Remy shakes himself off, blinks, and hauls his body into a less awkward position. "Holy shit," he mutters. "Holy shit! That was outSTANDing! Do it again, do it again!" Which part of the escape he's referring to isn't clear. Knowing him, he's probably talking about the whole thing. Knowing both of them, this won't be the last time they flee a burning building at unsafe speeds.