|Bat to the Bone Part 1|
|What: In his ongoing quest to prove himself, Darkwing helps thwart an assassination attempt.|
Midtown - Central Business District
The tallest building of the Gotham skyline is the Wayne Enterprises tower, with its silver "W" emblem, which overlooks this neighborhood, rising from the central hub of the city's monorail. The Gotham Clocktower is located nearby, smaller and far older. The area is also home to most of Gotham's most popular clubs, lounges, hotels, and restaurants, sharing space with other commercial-zoned high rises. There are a variety of options for private residences here as well, from penthouses and lofts to multi-unit apartment buildings.
It's cause for celebration, everyone.
Alan Scott has just put himself on the board of the most well respected paper in the world. So, when the GBC is up late with drinks and partying hardy it's for good reason.
But as his limo drives away, it's clear not everything is alright. He's got a tail. And when that tail rams into the back of his sedan, it becomes a lot more worrisome. The driver looks into the mirror incredulously. "Sir?" Pause. "SIR?!"
Alan Scott half turns to look out the rear window but all he sees are headlights. "You know the drill, Dan." he tells his driver as he reaches for his cellphone. "I'll call the cops, you do what you can and make for the nearest police station." Pause. "Don't hit any pedestrians."
It's like a flashback to the night she got her powers. Heather is staying in a downtown hotel, waiting for a commercial shoot tomorrow but... the girl barely ever sleeps anymore, and she has... yet another case of the munchies. Add to that the fact that she is pretty tired of the room service menu and really wants a good cup of coffee, and that puts her walking out of the hotel lobby to cross the street towards the coffee shop over there with dreams of a mocha latte' dancing in her head.
Then... well, screeches of tires and such draw her eyes to the left. What did Alan say about pedestrians? Well, there's one blonde pedestrian who's just walked into the path and is staring right over the car at the one behind Alan's and her instincts have her ready to step out of the first car's way, and well.. her plan is to step in close and use that super strength of hers to try to punch through the passenger's side front window of the second car to grab the frame at the back of the door with both hands. Sure, she doesn't have the mass to -stop- the car, but she can hang on and she attempts to do so, while screaming, "PULL OVER!" Of course, the glass cuts her hands and arms fairly badly, but it's already visibly healing.
The car in question skids sideways as Heather's powerful hands grasp part of the window. Men pile out of the vehicle, a moment later.
There's bullets flying everywhere as 6 gunmen in ski masks scatter like cockroaches at dawn.
There's a loud snapOp as two of the tires on Alan's car are hit, causing his vehicle now to skid. Dan is having trouble keeping control and that light pole is going to look worse for wear a half block down from where Heather stands.
Alan can read the writing on the wall and drops his cellphone in favor of bracing himself. "You can do it, Dan. Bring us to a halt." Not to self: make sure all his drivers get anti-terrorism driving lessons. There's a lot of fighting for control but Dan manages to avoid hitting anyone. Sideswiping some cars slow the limo down enough that the lightpole brings them to a halt. Fortunately, the airbag and seatbelts prevent any serious injury.
Letting go of the car once it stops, Heather snorts, "I was going for coffee, and you idiots had to make that difficult." she remarks, trying to get them to focus on her and not the car they were shooting at. In fact, she steps around the front of the stopped car, moving to try to place herself roughly between the shooters and the limo even though the shooters are spreading out. This means she's far closer to the limo than the shooters... and likely sprouting a handful of bulletholes in her outfit and torso and/or arms and legs.
Heather does catch some of the gunfire, but she's also a person on a wide street. Alan's car starts taking pot shots too, but now...off towards one of the alleys, there's a muffled scream amidst some movement in the darkness. There's no just a bit less gunfire.
"SIR! NO! You can't leave the car!" That of course is Dan, frantic to free himself of his seatbelt as Alan has already done so and is reaching for the door. It does make Alan pause though. "Dan, is this car armored?" No. "Are the windows bulletproof?" No. They both know the answer to those questions. "If they come here, a bullet through the window and we're dead." Ahha! Dan has an out. "But they aren't coming here Sir! PLEASE stay in the car!" Giving Dan a considering look, Alan turns in his seat to try to watch the gunmen and make sure they're being kept busy by... some woman."
Well, after half a dozen hits, Heather falls to the ground on her back. After all, she's not got enough body mass to resist the force of the multiple bullet impacts. She goes down in a spray of blood and lies there a moment, muttering to herself. Then she sits back up and glares at the shooters, ".. Ow!" she exclaims, which earns her another two shots to the torso that hit and punch through to leave large exit wounds. Her left hand braces on the ground behind her and she coughs up a bit of blood as she pushes herself to her feet and starts lurching towards the nearest shooter, "If I get my hands on you..." she mutters, a slight wheeze in her voice... maybe a punctured lung?
Heather does get to the nearest shooter. He drops his submachine gun in horror as the mangled body of the woman comes towards him, as if he's just seen some zombie. It leaves him dangerously open to attack.
Meanwhile, across the street, whatever was moving within the shadows has now moved onto its next victim. There's flashes of black leathery and green, and in one movement, the hood accidentally comes down revealing that it is in fact a human..but he looks rather short. He's fast though, and cuts through the gun of one of the thugs before delivering a boot to the throat. Should Heather take down the other, there will only be three left.
Alan and Dan will notice that the firing in their direction all but stops. Instead, the baddies are moving in on the immediate threat. The assassination attempt left momentarily in the balance.
Alan reaches for his cellphone but the impact sent it flying somewhere under the seats. "You don't happen to carry a gun, do you know Dan?" Note to self: make sure all his drivers are licensed. His security company will never let him sneak off alone after this.
Grinning in a macabre rictus of humor, Heather inclines her head as the wounds in her torso are already healing up. All sorts of combat maneuvers flash through her head, but what she ends up doing is lifting a knee with far more force than is necessary, between the legs of the gunman. As she does this, she reaches to take the Subgun from the guy. "Don't go anywhere." she says to the guy she's trying to force to have walnuts come out of his mouth and she turns towards the other gunmen, awkwardly aiming the subgun their way, "Stop... now!" she calls out, her voice already stronger with the hole in her lung having closed.
Dan does, in fact carry a gun in the glove box. It pops open and his nervous hands hand the gun to Alan.
YEOUCH! That guy will likely not have any kids. At least anytime soon. It's reminiscient of that Hot Shots Part Deux scene. Heather easily gets the gun and is fairly sure that guy is going nowhere. The guys aren't shooting anymore. At least not at Alan. Now the final three...no two? Where'd that other one go? He's being dragged off by that small warrior. Those two guys are aiming at Heather.
Alan gives Dan a quick smile and takes the gun. "Call the cops, Dan." He's not quite stupid enough to get out of the car but now he's armed, he's at least ready to shoot back if anyone heads their way. Rolling down the window, he peeks out quick to take stock of the situation.
Pointing the weapon at the last two guys, Heather remarks, "I've taken down -one- of your guys. Where's the rest?" Yeah, she's at least perceptive and has noticed that someone is vanishing shooters. She has no idea who, but she knows she's not operating alone. "You seem to be missing a few friends... if you drop your weapons, I -might- be able to convince the shadow to -not- kill the two of you." Of course, that said, she's walking towards the other gunmen calmly.
Dan brings out his cell phone and nervously dials 911. There's hurried talks but squad cars will be arriving shortly.
Meanwhile, the perps look over their shoulder at the alleyway and drop their guns and raise their hands at Heather. The shooting has now stopped, it seems, and it looks safe for Alan to get out of the car.
Alan tucks the weapon into s jacket pocket and gets out of the car, keeping his hand ready. "Well, thank you." he tells the woman and looks over the ones who've surrendered. He's willing to stay where he is though just in case. "I don't suppose you two would like to tell me if it was kidnapping or killing you had in mind?"
"Judging from their setup and execution, it was killing." suggests Heather. She walks over to collect the dropped weapons, and then tosses them all aside as she looks down at her clothes, "Damnit... this was my favorite bra." she mutters. Then she looks back towards Alan, mostly healed already, "We'll consider this a freebie shall we?" she offers with a smirk.. but she's keeping the corner of her eyes on the shooters who've surrendered. "So, which of you losers wants to tell me who hired you? First one to talk, -avoids- the nutcracker suite.." and she gestures to the guy she kneed as she says that part.
At first the men say nothing. They just don't respond to Alan and barely shudder as the flashing lights of the vehicles make their way towards the scene. But when Heather makes her reference, the weaker one's voice comes out. "What do you want to know?"
"Who hired you of course." Alan answers. "You're going to spill it anyway in order to make a deal with the cops so you might as well tell me now and I'll put in a good word for you." To Heather, he says "No need. Replace your clothing and send me the bill."
"Not like I can't afford more but yeesh, gunfire is horrible on clothing." That said, Heather just shakes her head and gestures to Alan, "What he said, who hired you? Who wanted that man dead?" she adds as she steps threateningly towards the uninjured shooters.
"Really." The sardonic one with the sneer now butts in. "You think we'd tell you? What Rex here isn't telling you is that if he spills the beans, he's going to die anyhow." He snorts. "Plea bargain. Serious? You got no idea who is messin with you, Scott." He turns to Heather, "You want to kill me? Injure me in front of the cops? Great. I'll call vigilante brutality and be free before sunrise, you wench." The weak-y one becomes the leaky one as he starts to sob.
"Actually, being beaten up by an innocent bystander isn't likely to get you free any quicker than if she doesn't." Alan points out. "It in no way mitigates your crime and she's not part of the criminal justice system."
Glancing towards Alan, Heather shrugs and turns back towards the criminals. "Actually, I thought I might just turn my back and advise whomever it is in the shadows, to do as he or she pleases." That done, she heads towards the weakling and offers a warm smile, "Have you got something you want to say while your friend there vanishes?" she asks, gesturing towards the tough guy. "Or do you want to see what happens when your daddybags break?"
The squadcars skid to a halt as the officers pile out of their vehicles. 12 officers in 6 cars with the SWAT van on its way.
"Hands up," one of them shouts, unclear on who has done what or what has happened. He does however, see Alan's gun.
Alan glances down at his jacket pocket. The weight does make it hang obviously, doesn't it. Obediently, he raises his hands. "Officer, my name is Alan Scott. This is my limousine and those men tried to kill me. Thanks to this lady and someone else, they didn't succeed. My driver is in the limousine."
Looking towards the police, Heather shrugs and lifts her hands. They're empty, but she lifts them and while she's unharmed, she -is- however, covered in her own blood, with clothes that look like she -should- be dead a couple times over. She doesn't bother saying anything at this time, but she does eye the weakling among the shooters, and gestures towards the cops with her head, trying to be somewhat suggestive that he might want to talk to them.
"That's fine by us, Mr. Scott. We'd just really prefer that you put the gun on the ground...slowly...and then we can all talk this out," says the officer in charge. Another one, a younger one, looks at Heather. "Hey lady, you okay?"
"Fine by me." Alan agrees. "I'm going to reach into my pocket and slowly pull it out and put it on the ground." Making sure they're okay with that, he uses two fingers to pull the gun out and lay it on the ground. "It should be registered to my driver."
James Barnes goes to: Midtown.
"I've been worse." says Heather. "If it'd make you feel better, you could ask an EMT to check me out, but I'm fine... that guy..." she says as she gestures to the one she kneed, "Might need to have his man parts surgically removed from his torso, but in my defense, he -was- shooting at Mister Scott at the time."
The officers make quick work and arrest the two men in the foreground and also the ones with assorted injuries who aren't doing much of anything. There's statements and lawyers, and it's not clear who they're working for. Not yet anyways. Are they stuck in the bureaucratic red tape?
Alan just answers questions when asked, gives his statement and lawyer's business card, and watches the would be assassins be carted off to the hoosegow. "Well, that was exciting. Looks like I pissed someone off big time." Which just makes him want to do it again though with more security.
Answering questions herself, Heather gestures to the hotel and makes sure that the police know where she's staying, and where she'll be for the next few days if they need to speak with her. However, once that's all done, she heads over to Alan, a police windbreaker over her barely decent shirt and she offers a hand to the guy, "Heather Danielson." she remarks, before handing over a business card. It reads: Eye Candy Personal Security.
"Alan Scott." he replies as he shakes the hand then glances down at the business card he takes with the other. "You're hired. Seriously though, I'll be giving you a call I think. After this, I suspect my normal security agency might not be enough." Not to mention they'll probably quit since he keeps slipping their leash and, as it turns out, almost getting killed.
Offering her most brillaint (and almost copywrited) smile, Heather gives Alan a nod, "My email and cell number are on there. I'll be basing out of New York but definitely could contract out to help you stay alive. Shouldn't be too difficult if they keep sending total amateurs like those." she says with a sweeping gesture. "But if you'll excuse me.. I hate dried blood on my skin. Mind if I go clean up and get something to eat? I need some -seriouso- calories after that much healing."
One week later. . .
The boy slinks in from a way unseen. It's what he does. It's what he's bred for.
He appears in the cell. Not the cell of the weak willed one. That would be too easy. He wants to enjoy this. He wants to make the tough one crack.
He's noticeable through the rain soaked boots. Even an assassin of his ability can't be stealthy through the squeak of wet rubber on cement. The squeak awakens the sardonic one.
"Who's there?" he cries out in the night.
"Your reckoning. An angel of truth; a demon of truth, perhaps." The voice has a heavy middle eastern accent and seems to come from a younger man.
"What do you want?"
"To know who is trying to kill Alan Scott."
"But they'll kill me!"
"So will I."
After a long pause filled with stuttering and stammering he finally blurts it out. "Jenningson! Kurt Jenningson!"
Kurt Jenningson. Former board member of GBC. Looks like someone was miffed he missed out on the deal that Scott got with the Planet. Looks like someone was miffed he got shoved off the board for shenanigans in his personal life.
"You've been very helpful," says Darkwing just before the brass knuckles pummel the sardonic one's skull, knocking him fast asleep.