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EVENT: You Reap What You Sow Part 3
Event-icon Who: Poison Ivy Batman Jim Gordon Spoiler Spider-Girl
Where: Gotham Streets
When: 2012-11-05
Emitter: Poison Ivy
Tone: Gritty
What: Secrets have been exposed, and yet more may spill out into the daylight if steps are not taken to prevent it. Commissioner Gordon is all too aware of the potential hornet's nest that is being stirred up by interfering in whatever Poison Ivy was doing. A key witness is transferred from GCPD to the hospital for tests... and a move will be made to try and silence this man before the can of worms is opened completely.




It's 9:00pm sharp in Gotham City. Rush hour has long since past, and a fair portion of the city has settled in to another hopefully quiet evening. Far fewer cars are on the highways, and the trains have stopped running their express routes to get weary commuters home from the work day. The forecasters had called for rain, which in many cases is like shooting craps with loaded die; however, in this one instance, they were wrong. The skies are overcast as usual, but not a drop has fallen, and the air feels crisp for once, leaving the telltale humidity of impending waterfall long behind.

From the motor pool of Gotham City's Police Headquarters, five patrol cruisers roll out and onto the streets. They remain completely inconspicuous while winding through Midtown, leaving lights and sirens off, obeying traffic lights, and otherwise having the appearance of nothing more important than an off-duty caravan to the local donut shop. Not until they merge onto one of the highways leading out of downtown do they fire their lights, alerting other cars on the freeway that it might be best to pull over.

Inside one of these cruisers is Commissioner Gordon, riding shotgun with one of the second shift patrolmen. The car before and to the left of his carries their quarry, the con man and suspect named James Malhoney. Gordon's face is etched with worry, and as they merge onto the freeway, his eyes look around nervously.

"Expecting trouble, Commissioner?"

Jim looks over at the driver, then back to the road. "I'm always expecting trouble, officer." He retrieves the radio and snaps it to life. "Team Beta, Skywatch, report."

"Team Beta, reporting," crackles the radio, which comes from the two SWAT vans that have taken to the streets parallel the highway. "We're about a mile ahead of you."

"Skywatch, reporting," crackles a different voice, only its transmission is peppered with the telltale chopping of a helicopter's rotors. "We've got our eyes on the convoy."

"Ten Four." Gordon clicks off the radio and wrings his hands together nervously. "Keep your wits about you, officer. I can tell you if something's going to go down, it'll get ugly quick."

Anya Corazon does not, as a rule, come to Gotham City very often... but sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do. And what she's gotta do today, apparently, involves trudging her way down a dark Gotham street after dark, wrapped up in a winter coat with a backpack slung over her shoulders.

All that Anya wants to do is get from Point A to Point B without any trouble. Which is precisely why she stops at a corner to wait for the Walk signal to light up, and while she waits, watches the subdued -- but recognizable to an experienced web-slinger -- police caravan go cruising by.

Anya stays put for a moment before she catches herself bouncing anxiously on her heels. With a quiet swear, she spins on her heel and starts trailing behind the caravan. But it's okay. She's in her civvies, nothing's gonna go wrong. She won't have to hero it up in somebody else's city, right?

S'all good. Anya is sure of it.

"Negative. I'll handle overwatch on this one myself." The Dark Knight radios in, calmly declining assistance in handling convoy support from his compatriots, "Stay on the convoy itself and link the jet into the feed, Oracle." Said jet veers gracefully away from its operations along the harbor waterways back towards Midtown, thrusters accelerating sharply as the sleek black stealthcraft, all but invisible in the ceiling of gathering clouds, crosses the city as the bat flies. He doesn't comment on the police bands-- but Gordon could be comfortably certain someone is out there, listening.

It doesn't take long for the Dark Knight to be ahead of Gordon's core team, taking an odd vantage point from which to conduct point recon by sweeping along the forward quadrant and the convoy's flanks-- checking the network of roads and buildings just ahead and around the prisoner transfer with a improvised, but regimented precision, the intended course updating on the Batwing's readouts as telemetry changes and automatic protocols keep up with what the Bat does not take a personal hand in examining.
With a backpack slung over a shoulder and gym clothes beneath her jacket and jeans, Stephanie Brown races down the freeway as quickly as her aging white motorcycle will take her. After losing the last few hours to the balance beam and weight room, tonight is a night when the part-time vigilante would be all too happy to spend a quiet night indoors, working through neglected homework and icing her sore muscles; with any luck, she might even make it back in time to catch Dancing With the Stars before starting dinner.

And then a bunch of police sirens roaring a ways down the freeway drive her off to the side of the road, lest she keep the good officers from doing their job.

Of course, as soon as they're a respectable distance away, she starts her engines back up and weaves back into traffic, trying to keep an eye on the flashing lights while grimacing at herself the whole way.
Gotham City is full of surprises, but a well planned, well executed police movement is the sort of thing that should cow even the most stalwart criminal, isn't it?

Well, maybe. But these things... never go as smoothly as one might like.

The night is dark, which might explain why it takes the officers a moment to realize that the tarp stretched across the back of a pickup ahead is moving. When it tears open, it isn't a normal payload which is revealed, but instead a gang of six men in professional-looking mercenary gear. Black balaclavas, bullet proof urban camo gear, and for most of them, assault rifles. One, particularly large man, in the middle, though, is holding a shoulder-mountained rocket launcher... which is trained on the helicopter above.

The villains tonight make their play known in a dramatic fashion; sending the heat-seeking payload upwards in a roar of flame and smoke. The intent, if the mercenary has judged his target precisely, is to detonate the helicopter and bring the carcass crashing onto the highway itself... but he hasn't reckoned on the intervention of heroes, has he?

At the same moment, behind them, Gordon - and others - most likely become aware of the sound of reving engines. A fancy-looking black sportscar suddenly tearing down the road behind them, flanked by a pair of motorcycles with riders dressed in leather and with reflective helmets.

At this point, James Malhoney starts to freak out, "Oh gawd, oh gawd, what the hell is goin' on?! I never signed up for this man I never agreed to this oh gawd!!"
"Look out!" cries Gordon.

The driver of Gordon's car slams on the breaks, while Gordon fumbles for the radio. Finally getting it in hand, he mashes his hand upon the xmit button, but there's nothing to be said. He watches slack jawed as the rocket soars up into the sky. The helicopter, try as it might to evade, is struck in the tail and begins to spiral out of control following the payload's detonation.

"Stay on 17, stay on 17" shouts Gordon, instructing the officer driving to keep close to car #17, which holds Malhoney. Hitting the radio, Gordon leans forward and says, "Cruiser 17, hang left, slow up, we'll flank you on the right."

As ordered, cruiser #17 veers off to the left, and Gordon's cruiser accelerates to catch up. The Commissioner takes out his handgun and rolls down the window of his cruiser, looking for targets. "Jesus!" he cries when the motorcycles come into view, and instinctively leans his arm out the window, taking aim at one of the riders before firing into the wind.
Aw, no. No, no, no. Anya does /not/ like heroing in Gotham City, but she can't just turn a blind eye to /rocket launchers/ being aimed at /cops/. With a laugh that borders on a whimper, she peers between the caravan up ahead of her, the engines revving behind her, and the helicopter up above before she darts into the nearest alley.

This is what the backpack is for. So that when Anya reveals the black and white Spider-Girl costume worn underneath, she can stuff her civvies and jacket away without losing them.

"Any Outsiders in Gotham right now?" Spider-Girl asks, even as she goes sprinting up the side of the nearest building and starts booking it for the caravan, extending one hand towards the helicopter. She hates using powers out here, but... with a *THWIP*, a line of webbing darts out to attach to the targeted chopper, and she leaps from the rooftop.

If Spider-Girl is very very lucky, she hopes to kick the rocket wide of the chopper and up into the sky. It's a stupid move, but it's all she's got.

"Confirmed. I see them." The thermal silhouettes amidst the convoy that don't track-- they're on the police in an instant, no time for so much as a warning before the proverbial knives are out. No more than half that brief time before Batman dives suddenly, the sleek stealthcraft screaming groundwards as a sonic boom rumbles across the clouds. It's not a storm up in the sky, but a shape that evokes a familiar symbol that cuts the cloudcover in a clean, singular roll. The unerringly precise tumble brings the hidden jetcraft into view, intersecting the path of the highway occupied by the convoy and its assailants. Superheated chaff burns free in the initial approach, flaring in the sky-- but not quickly enough.

The crippled chopper's descent is an urgent concern, but the Caped Crusader will have to get to it, first. Thus, the Batwing levels out over the rear of the convoy, for just a moment. One of those rare, rare moments the unique jet is actually visible to the naked eye at ground level in Gotham. Then, the Dark Knight guides the plane with practiced instinct and skill to overtake the lead truck, effectively buzzing every vehicle on the ground in the process (and drawing a hell of a lot of attention to himself) before dropping a series of charges from the underside of the Batwing.

These clank once, twice on the road, then /explode/ in proximity-triggered payloads of electromagnetism, pulsing outwards and coating the road in a momentary burst of crackling blue shockwaves, arcing from one to another and seeking to short out every circuit in that vehicle; and ruin a lot of peoples' hairstyles in the process. As the Batwing rapidly ascends almost straight back towards its flight ceiling, the Dark Knight has abandoned ship-- deccel abrupt as his cape unfurls, seemingly leaving him floating gracefully above the convoy, for a moment.

"Holy--!"

Stephanie hits the brakes hard when she sees the rocket shooting through the sky; without waiting to see whether or not it hits, she busies herself with digging through her backpack and trying to figure out what's a crimefighting implement and what's a schoolbook.

Her teachers would probably be /livid/ if they were privy to particular ratio.

Soon enough, the visor of her purple motorcycle helmet is flipped up to let her awkwardly situate a purple domino mask over her eyes, but the soft, muffled crackle of a communicator in one of her backpack's pockets interrupts her; 'Gotham' is about all she can make out, and even then, only barely. As she wriggles her hand free to fetch the thing, her mask slowly slides down until one end of it is resting on the bridge of her nose, eliciting a huffy sigh.

"Hey!" she exclaims once the comm is fetched and hastily pushed into an ear; her helmet is only barely staying on her head at this point, exposing one hell of a case of helmet hair. "O? Cannonball? Laura?" Beat. Probably not Laura. "Look, someone just shot a rocket at--"

When she glances up to check on the rocket's trajectory, she sees something--some/one/ swinging off of the chopper.

Towards the rocket.

"--no, wait, someone's--" Beat. Beat.

"--oh, /shit/!" Helmet still cocked to the side, Spoiler grips the handlebars, ready to peel off... until the Batwing races overhead and forces her to hang on tightly to the bike's front end while the ground quakes beneath her. "--don't die! Things are getting real out here!"

The Incredible Spider-Girl is, unfortunately, a fraction of a second too slow to connect with the rocket, which delivers its deadly payload. For a moment, she is silhouetted against the explosion, but she is able to turn her momentum to her advantage; ploughing through the stricken vehicle to wrench the terrified and confused police officers to relative safety.

The van is disabled by Batman's intervention, but if the mercenaries are intimidated by the appearance of the Dark Knight, they do not show it. Now, the men in the back of the truck are dispersing onto the highway, maintaining a tight line as they advance down towards the police convoy...

The driver of the vehicle also gets out, along with his partner, and move to retrieve weapons from the back of the truck. Nobody has yet /noticed/ that Batman isn't in his plane any more. He's a ghostly shadow in the night sky.

Gordon's shot strikes the wheel of one of the bikes clean, and sends its passenger spilling to the ground with a startled cry. The other bike, and the car, carry on - indeed, if anything, they are now picking up speed, though there's enough distance that they aren't /quite/ on the bulk of the police forces just yet. Thankfully, the Gotham streets are empty enough at this time of night that there aren't too many civilians around to panic.
Batwing's brief appearance draws Gordon's attention from the trailing car and remaining motorcycle long enough to see what's happening with the truck up ahead. He peels his eye skyward again, watching as the chopper spins around, its tail aflame. "What the..." He squints his eyes, having /sworn/ he could see something up there.

Suddenly, Gordon is struck by an instinctive urge to change the game. Perhaps it had something to do with how /impressively/ the truck was disabled. If these bad guys expected the convoy to keep moving, maybe their best defense was to do the opposite. Snatching the radio in hand, he checks the path of the chopper again, noticing that it's just starting to careen off the side of the freeway and hopefully out of harm's way.

"Team Alpha, all stop! All stop! Take cover behind your cars and shoot to kill!" He pauses as his car and the cruiser #17 come screeching to a halt, then lifts the radio again. "Team Beta, flank us and close in, but /do not/ engage until I say so!" Lowering the radio, he waves his hand for the driver to move. "Go! Go!" He scrambles across the driver's seat and follows the driver out, taking cover behind the front end of the vehicle. There, he crouches down and peeks his head up just far enough to take aim and fire at one of the mercenaries. It's so hard to see them in the dark!
"Purple! I got this!" Spider-Girl is carried by momentum into a not-very-graceful landing against the pilot-side door, and they share a rather alarmed look before she yanks the now-dented door open. "Ow. Goin' my way?" she calls over the blaring alarms, extending her hands towards the officers inside.

"Not yet!" the pilot insists, still wrestling with the controls. "I'm not letting this thing hit anybody!"

Spider-Girl stays clung to the entry as the helicopter spirals down out of the sky, but the pilot seems to be having some luck. It isn't traffic or even buildings that are rushing up at them -- it's just empty road.

Spider-Girl flinches before the police do. "Let's go!" she insists, but she gets no disagreement. The officers' safety harnesses come off, they dive over and latch onto her, and she flings herself and her passengersaway at the last possible moment, leaving an empty chopper to crash into the road. The trio's landing is not particularly graceful, but it is also free of explosions. "Go team," Spider-Girl grunts, pumping a fist into the air.
They never learn to look up. Granted, the Batwing roaring upwards until it's lost to the night sky is a very good distraction even if they -were- tracking the sky. The Bat's cape forms a makeshift glider with which he is /very/ familiar, and the abrupt shift of momentum inherent in ejecting at high speeds gives him ample lift-- at least for the moment. That moment is used to descend on silent wings, to a similarly soft landing just behind the assault team's van. As Gordon's men start opening fire on their advancing cohorts, the Dark Knight seeks to kick the legs out from under the driver-- violently, almost literally-- and drill the other man's head sidelong into the exposed frame bordering the transport's back door.

Both strikes come in tandem, and would flow seamlessly into an inversion: as he comes around off his landing, Batman seeks to sweep the the struck mercenary into the road, and drill the swept assailant with a descending elbow, before they finish recovering weaponry.. or yell a warning to the others. It's worth noting that he's already occupying one hand with grapnel gun, prepared to move; or continue his own assault from the rear.

"That is /not/ not-dying!" Spoiler hollers when the rocket explodes. She hurries to get the helmet straight on her head, eyes glued to the too-bright night sky where her teammate--

--is, apparently, still alive! Heaving a sigh of relief, she guns the ignition and takes off behind what's left of the mercenary caravan; as soon as she sets her eyes on the remaining motorcycle, she drops them to fish through her backpack for the proper tool. At least the road is empty; her mother would wake up long enough to ground her forever if she knew her daughter can't even keep her eyes on the road while crimefighting and driving.

"Are you /okay/?" Her voice is full of concern, even though she's focused on fishing a flash pellet from a little yellow pouch tucked beneath a math book. No such care is shown for the opposing motorcyclist, who she tries to pull up alongside just long enough to let her hurl the pellet into his face before veering away; it'll go off in a bright flash accompanied by a thick cloud of white smoke.

The men Batman descends on are essentially helpless underneath the wrath of an angered Bat. The balaclavas that they wear are armored, but the crunch as one man's head bounces from the back of the truck has a final quality to it. He won't be getting up again. The other is sent sprawling to the to the dirt, and gurgles after the elbow finishes the job. Two down, six more to go.

A task which the GCPD take to with commendable vigor. These men have been waiting for an opportunity to give back to the gangs of this crazy town, and whilst these targets are probably not in the employ of someone like The Joker, as far as targets of righteous anger go? /They'll do/.

A rain of hot lead sends the mercs scattering, mostly surprised that the police would have the wherewithal to open up on them, let alone do so with as much vigor as they do. Two men go down quickly in the mad panic, but the others manage to get behind cars, and begin returning fire; the bark and chatter of automatic weapons answering the raport of the GCPD firearms, lighting up the Gotham sky with muzzle flashes all around.

Unfortunately, there's still Batman and Spider-Girl situated conveniently behind them. Well. Unfortunately for them, anyway.

The smoke that Spoiler deploys is enough, at least, to distract the remaining cyclist enough that he falls off his bike, and all of a sudden, the sports car is coming to a screeching halt. When the door opens, the woman who steps out could not look much more different to the starkly dressed military men she is apparently allied with.

Luminescent green hair, a pair of sunglasses (at night!), a denim jacket over a pink tank-top with an anime-esque design showing a kitten giving the finger to the world, and a pair of khaki slacks. About the only thing they have in common is combat boots. She's also smoking, and has the world's biggest grin as she eyes Spoiler, and beyond the purple-masked girl, the police.

"I'M GONNA MAKE THIS REAL SIMPLE TO Y'ALL!" She declares at the top of her lungs, "YOU HAND OVER THE RAT, AN' WE ALL WALK AWAY. OTHERWISE, YER GOIN' HOME IN A HURST."

Needless to say, one of the GCPD SWAT officers is already lining up a shot...

There is a momentary lapse in gunfire when the woman makes her appearance. From the cover of his police cruiser, Commissioner Gordon eyeballs her. Could it be? He narrows his eyes, taking a moment to think things through. He was about to ask a whole lot of his men.

Turning to the left, he crouches down and out of sight. Waving his hand in the air, he gets the attention of the two officers hunkered down behind cruiser #17, who have flanked the cowering James Malhoney. Silently, he points at Malhoney, then motions to the left... toward the guardrail separating the elevated highway from the streets below.

One of the officers nods slowly, and both reposition themselves, placing hands on Malhoney's arms while backing up toward the guardrail.

Gently raising his radio, Gordon murmurs into it as quietly as he can. "Team Beta..." The SWAT team. "We need her alive. You're authorized to open fire, but /not/ to kill. Copy?"

"I'm okay. Thanks, Spoiler." See, Spider-Girl really /does/ remember the codename. Once she's sure the two pilots are okay, too, she goes running back towards the fray. Hopefully, none of the other officers will mistake her for one of the bad guys. At least a lot of heroes in this town wear black. She stays low as she quickly, quietly makes her way towards the men exchanging gunfire with the police...

...and Spider-Girl tries very, very hard not to feel /intensely intimidated/ when she finally sees Batman is already there. Oh, jeez. The boogeyman is totally real.

Spider-Girl stomps down on her probably-totally-irrational fear of the Dark Knight as she creeps closer, but the lapse in gunfire has her pause and duck behind some cover of her own. Warily, she peeks out from behind it, not to see what the police are going to do, but the /Bat/. If he goes to take the gunmen down during the lull, she'll have his back. Otherwise, she will be patient. Really, really anxious... but patient.

The Dark Knight drops a smoke pellet as the second target falls barely an instant past the first. Unlike the ones in Stephanie's possession, this charge doesn't flash, doesn't explode, just starts pouring out a seemingly endless amount of thick grey fog. It's not the most exciting weapon in the Batman's arsenal, but this proverbial firework snake is a workhorse. In moments, it would be difficult to find one's way back to the disabled van, much less discern just what's keeping their compatriots; and let's not even talk about the alleged demon in those mists, who is indeed coming to take gunmen down during the tense standoff, one by one.

The Bat skirts the smoke's perimeter-- anyone who notices and decides to fire their automatic weapons through the concealment are going to do it through the midst, in his experience-- and uses his cowl's thermal imaging to come out of the urban jungle right on top of his quarry, darting up low and using the vehicles and highway divisions as barriers and cover of his own.

The Caped Crusader aims to stay out of the general view as long as he can, starting at the back and working his way forward with a simple, practiced blood choke and disarm-- just like any smart ambush predator, he starts with the outliers. Suddenly, in the pause in gunfire, all impacts are held, his combat style shifting fully to a soft one. Though that's not to imply the Bat is particularly /gentle/ with said grapples...

Spoiler - who by now is just wearing her backpack like a BabyBjorn - hits the brakes when the sports car does; her tires squeal across the pavement for a couple of seconds until the vehicle finally comes to a halt. And threatens to tip over before its rider quickly sets her feet down and grips the bars to keep it steady. It only takes a brief look at the green-haired woman's mad smile to send the young vigilante's eyes down to the pack. Her hands slowly slide from the handlebars until they're amongst her books and gear, and soon, her fingertips are brushing over the tip of a batarang stuck in the middle of a textbook.

She doesn't take it any further than that, though, at least not yet; the last place she wants to end up tonight is in a hearse.
The mercenaries aren't schmucks; by most counts, they are top special forces. The trouble is, they are up against Batman. In the dark. With smoke. On his turf. They really couldn't have the odds stacked much further against them, and whilst Batman cycles around to pick off two more, they do manage to get off a burst of gunfire... but there's little chance of it striking home, and soon enough, he's got one more down. The other grappled, is trying to fight back, shifting his weight as much as he can against the Caped Crusader.

"10-4, Commissioner." Comes the response from the professionals. Spider-Girl and Spoiler are holding back, and that's probably for the best. The sniper lines up his shot carefully, aiming for the woman's right shoulder...

The gunshot rings out, bright and clear, and she stumbles back a step...

Only to give a snort of laughter.

"Mistake!~"

The awful woman completes a single turn, stepping back forwards and spinning around, before flinging her hand forward. A bright blast of yellow light punches out from her outstreched palm, slamming into the SWAT vehicle that the gunshot had come from, which is sent teetering backwards, before slamming into the ground with an almighty crash.

James lets out the world's most pitiful whimper when the van hits the ground, and speaks up, "You ain't gonna let her take the rat, are you Commissioner?" He whines, "I, I swear, I'll go straight after this, ain't never gonna hear from me again, just, for the love of God, get me outta here!"

"Holy shit!" cries one of the cops, who ducks down as the blast of yellow light lurches over his ducked head.

Gordon spins his head around and watches as one of his two SWAT vans is hit, and his expression couldn't be more downtrodden for a few beats. There were good men in there; Lord knows what happened to them. With resolve, he darts from behind one cruiser to the next, skidding to a halt next to James under the protection of cruiser #17. "She's not gonna take you," he murmurs. "Come on!" He climbs into the back seat, pulling James with him. Of the two officers outside, one gets in the drivers seat, while the other hangs back, weapon ready. Hopefully, they'll have enough time to get a head start on her.

Hopefully their cruiser won't be hit by another one of those yellow beams.

"Go!" hisses Gordon.

The driver steps on the pedal, and as tires screech against pavement, Gordon throws himself over James, both as a human shield and also to hold him in place.

Beneath her mask, Spider-Girl's eyes are wide when she sees the burst of light strike the SWAT vehicle.

Okay. New plan. Abandoning her designs on the gunmen, Spider-Girl takes a flying leap off the side of the raised highway, only to use a line of webbing to snap herself up against the underside. She goes sprinting up the street, beneath the mercenaries and police and heroes, until her masked head slowly peeks up over the guard rail a short ways from the green-haired lady.

When Spider-Girl hears squealing tires, she whips an arm up and over the railing and launches a line towards the Crazy Lady. She doesn't particularly care what the webbing hits, as long as it does -- face, hand, the car that's just past her, whatever. And if it does hit, she gives a good, hard /yank/. She'd like to throw the lady off-balance. Possibly with a car. With energy potential like that, the spider figures she can take it.

The impact to the SWAT van, the report of the sniper rifle-- these things divert the Bat's attention, as well. As the third in a quick sequence of downed mercenaries becomes wise to his real plight in the hair's breadth before Batman gets to him, the focus on swift incapacitation shifts gears, several knees thrown swiftly as another assault rifle is wrenched clear, a reinforced spike on one gauntlet hopelessly distorting the gun's feed action. It would take a fair gunsmith and a set of good tools to unjam that quick effort.

The rifle is subsequently presented, sidelong, for its bearer's face, intent on knocking him prone and into the concrete barrier of the overpass, instants before the Dark Knight simply throws himself off the side. It's this that Gordon might get a glimpse of, as his car races for the drifting barrier of smoke, and the escape route beyond past the disabled transport van. For his part, the Dark Knight catches himself with a grapnel line along the underside of the highway-- in a dark mirror to Spider-Girl's graceful webslinging, the Bat's path is abrupt and precise.

The deep arc brings him dangerously close to the road below, and shoots him up the other side with the aid of a second line and the Detective's own momentum. Where the spider peeks in low, the Bat launches high, a trio of whirling batarangs released, arcing towards the street seemingly of their own accord-- eagerly seeking the heat signatures tagged by the cowl during that breakneck, acrobatic repositioning, intent on keeping the gunmen from anything approaching efficiency while he moves in on their.. apparent leader.

Not one to take chances where deadly flashes of light are concerned, Spoiler wraps her arms around the backpack and hurls herself to the ground just in time for the beam to sail past her; she barely manages to pull her legs in before the bike teeters over and hits the pavement where they were.

She says a little prayer for the vehicle as she collects herself; she's getting to the point of being on a first name basis with her mechanic, and her wallet can't take much more of it.

The batarang is nearly drawn, but if a /bullet/ couldn't stop the woman, what good would a weirdly shaped shuriken do? Besides, /someone/ should probably see if the SWAT team is still alive, and Batman and Spider-Girl seem to have their hands full. Spoiler turns and runs down the highway, making sure to give Jim and James' cruiser a wide berth as it speeds by. She stays low as she weaves through the cruisers - and officers - hoping that the police are too occupied with the violent metahuman to pay her any mind as she heads for the van.

Thankfully, it doesn't look as though the damage to the vehicle is too obscene. The side is dented in, but the cops inside the car are just bruised and battered. Whilst Jim's cruiser does start to make some progress, there's now so much debris, cars, and difficulty getting through the highway that a quick escape is impossible.

The gunmen are suppressed, though, at least momentarily, and that means that he only has to worry if the woman is going to give a second blast. She, however, has to worry about a car being flung directly at her. Which is much more concerning. "Oh, you just know RIGHT how to PISS ME--"

The vehicle crashes into the green-haired woman, but there's no nasty splat as one might expect. Instead, she is forced back, one step, again, and the car crumples. She grits her teeth, and completes another turn, this time, winding up face to face with Spider-Girl. The crushed car hits the ground and she glows bright yellow from head to toe.

Before all of the gathered energy from the impact with the vehicle is brought up, and flung out of her palms. The blast is much bigger this time, and will probably vaporize the downed motorcycles from earlier... but the supervillain DOES come with a built in warning light, which is really very considerate of her.

Mere moments before the cruiser disappears into the cloud of smoke provided by the Batman, Jim Gordon catches sight of the supervillain turning yellow from head to toe. He gasps quietly, and blink-blink's until his vision is cut off by the smoke, prompting him to grab for his radio again. "All units, this is Gordon. We're on the move! If you've got a working vehicle, get the hell out of here!" Clicking the radio off, he scowls, and readies his pistol again. "Come and get it, freakshow," he murmurs, while poking his head back toward the window of the cruiser.

"Glowing!" Spider-Girl warns Spoiler over the com, even as she waves cheerfully at the Crazy Lady. Who took a car to the face. And just got mad. Welp. Anya's life: let her show you it. "Glowing... at me. Ooh. This is why I never come to Jersey."

Spider-Girl doesn't take the time to think. She just /acts/. As the glowing woman rounds on her, she resigns herself to needing to buy a /whole lot of fast food/ if she survives this encounter and starts THWIPPING like her life depends on it. Spider-Girl figures that her best chance to help the Bat end this is to hinder the glowing lady's ability to blow things up. And the best avenue she has to do that is to try and coccoon her up in all the webbing she's got left in her system.

You know. Assuming that Spider-Girl isn't about to be introduced to a glowing fist in the face. Because that would be pretty typical of her life.
The Dark Knight's course, thankfully, takes him over that second release of energy by a notable margin-- but it's certainly worth watching the vehicles reduced to so much mechanical dust and shrapnel in its path. Or at least, taking ample warning of that impact. Batman sweeps his cape out to both sides and angles his descent downwards, coming in fast and building speed in a run on the glow-happy gangleader running this show.

As Spider-Girl pours on the webbing, the Caped Crusader cuts his own bombing run short instants before he crashes all his weight into a rather profound impact, suddenly gaining a small amount of altitude as he loses speed to drag, and pulls upwards a moment, intending a graceful landing just beyond their adversary.. and after releasing a trio of pellets at her center of mass as he passes.

If the webbing -can- restrain her, to the Dark Knight's mind it can restrain her better with the eruption of those charges into a greyish, dark ooze not so much splashing as bursting in gooey tendrils from each device. A few seconds later, that adhesive would start to harden and contract, itself.

"Well, the cops are okay," Spoiler replies after scaling the side of the vehicle and peeking in through the window. One arm is /through/ the widow for the sake of stability; she's using the other to nudge her helmet up so that she can access her communicator. "so I guess..." Narrowing her eyes, she fixes on the radiant metahuman against whom bullets and cars have proven ineffective and swallows.

"Incoming!" she shouts as she takes off towards the woman, digging through her bag for the best tool she can find for the job. Which, in this case, seems to be a can of hairspray and a lighter; she keeps the latter waaaay ahead of the former as she makes her approach, and if her fellow heroes don't haev things in hand by the time she gets there, she'll be all too happy to turn her head and try to spray a fireball at the resilient villain.
The GCPD manage a haphazard retreat whilst the remaining gunmen suffer from mostly bat or gunshot related injuries. A couple of them will get away, but the majority are down either permanently or for more than long enough for the police without immediate evac to round them up.

The supervillain, though, is surprised by the sudden change in tactic. "The hell are you doing?!" She splutters as Spider-Girl starts to spray her down. She starts trying to pull back against it, and her hand pulls back, starting to glow yellow - though it is taking a long time to build without anyone actually ... hitting her.

And then she gets a faceful of hairspray and flame, and she screams, "The FU--!" Staggering backwards, her concentration is thoroughly broken, she's getting pretty gooey, and more pissed by the moment, at least partly because her eyebrows are singed, "I'm gonna shove that can right up--"

And yet again, the rating of the comic is saved by timely intervention. The foul-mouthed woman's rampage of revenge is cut short entirely by the power of Batman's mighty goo, which finishing the job of cocooning her from head to toe. After which, she is left standing stock upright, arms and legs pinned tightly together, for easy transportation. She's even been gagged! Something which everyone is probably increasingly glad of.

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