15009/Massassin Transit

Massassin Transit
Date of Scene:	28 April 2023
Location:	Burnley Skytrain Station
Synopsis:	Wherein Rose Wilson seeks to do an assassination, and Batman seeks to stop an assassin.
Cast of Characters:	Ravager, Batman

---

Ravager has posed:
Rose always hated this town. New York City had provided enough darkness and grime to last her a few years. Metropolis has a perpetual stick up its proverbial ass but the food's always been good. But frickin' -Gotham?- Like a dirty old gym sock left in a sewer a lot too long. Walking these streets leaves her feeling like she needs to burn her shoes after leaving town.

But there's a Skytrain. That's kinda cool. Metro still did it better but Gotham is trying. Gold star.

The budding thug for hire isn't here for sightseeing though. Some business dude isn't so happy with some other business dude and said business dude regularly takes the Skytrain to and from work. She has all of the information she needs.

And soon she'll also have a target.

The train's already in motion high above the city streets when the younger and smaller killer makes her move. By 'move' it's nothing more than to march toward where the unfortunate suit is sitting to grab him by the collar, lift him out of his seat and shove him against the side of the car with enough force to crack the glass.

"Someone shoulda quit while they were ahead" she says with a wicked grin while pinching off anything he might have to say in return, steadily putting pressure on the guy to the sound of glass steadily weakening behind him.

Batman has posed:
Every city has its share of sludge and shine; its fine foods and its fetid dens. The longstanding, widespread corruption and violent crime in Gotham have left it struggling more than some, perhaps; but still well worth fighting for. Code words and back channel communications. Dead drops and secret meet-ups. Simple, careless SMS. Encrypted point to point transmitters and customized receivers. Contracts for crime get coordinated all sorts of ways, and this one was no slouch.

It helps, however, if one conducts their encrypted communication on a system that's not already infiltrated by a custom-written one-off trojan that the best anti-virus will never detect. If said backdoor wasn't quietly piggybacking data pre-encryption right off your own network, to a supercomputing server complex with the capacity to simply break most of the best cyphers even if it weren't. This gives Batman the target, and his own recon work gives him the likely window of predictable opportunity a pro demands.

Then there's the Ravager herself. Rose Wilson. When the identification software gets its hands on her face on approach to the platform several stops ago, it gives the Dark Knight pause. The potential connection to Deathstroke is too strong to ignore; and he really wasn't expecting to work this hard this evening. As the monorail glides over the city, as Rose slams her prey up against the glass, she might see the armored, sleek frame of the batmobile mirroring the path of the skytrain in the streets far below, picking optimal, traffic-free routes and cutting around traffic with near precognition.

Of course, that's just the car. The Batman himself is perched atop the monorail, crouched low for stability and to avoid the track infrastructure rushing past just overhead, his booted footfalls making no sound as he alights, as he creeps towards a position directly over the Ravager and her quarry. Emotionless eyes track their forms as the Bat's cowl lenses subtly shimmer, scanning into thermal imaging.

Ravager has posed:
There's a peculiar vehicle down below but Rose doesn't see it. There's a peculiar vigilante perched right over her head but she doesn't sense it. Despite having better than human norm senses, a train going at a decent clip across the city hides more than it reveals.

That, and she's -really- getting into the moment. She's had to wait HOURS before having a chance to cut loose! No, she is perfectly focused on the job at hand.

The captured suit tries to rake fingernails across her eyes and quickly finds his hand broken.

An undercover GCPD officer stands and draws his sidearm and takes a foot to the face for his efforts, knocking the weapon aside and its owner out cold.

"How 'bout you wait your goddamn turn? I'm not finished with this loser."

Unlike the Batman and his various toys the rhythmic passing of scenery hadn't escaped her notice. She's already mapped out the passing of support arms, choosing just the right moment for one final slam of body against glass where the latter gives way in an explosion of material. Air rushes into the cabin with enough pressure difference to pop the ears, giving other passengers one more thing to scream about.

There dangles one frantically kicking man with one broken hand, suspended by the Ravager as she waits for just the right moment to let go and introduce him to an immovable steel girder...

Batman has posed:
Patient, but prepared. A suspect grey metallic pellet is held in one of Batman's gloved hands as he carefully tracks the action below, face set in an intently focused frown. In the end, he doesn't come through the roof, taking the fight right inside the populated transport. Glass explodes outwards, the support pillar approaches at a blistering pace, and in the beat before it hits, the Dark Knight drops from above.

One arm and a heaving shoulder sweep to the side as he swings bodily in to block the opening, shoving the targeted suit as gently as he can back towards the center of the car-- even as his other fist aligns a sturdy backhand with Rose's skull. As he actually lands, a sweeping leg seeks to trip the Ravager forward-- and heave her right out of the skytrain, and into surprise freefall.

It's freefall the Dark Knight would then join in, however, leaping out after her without hesitation in an aerodynamic dive. If he were Spider-Man, Batman would exalt Rose for dropping in. In this instance, there is nary a grunt of exertion for the initial ambush, and now only the rushing of wind rippling his iconic cape.

Ravager has posed:
This is all fun for Ravager. She's effectively in playtime, not all out brawl time. The flicker of precog ability is peacefully napping while she gets her hands dirty. There is no warning the tables are about to be flipped over.

By the time she can react to something knocking her target in the opposite direction the back of her head is being grabbed and something catches her feet. Hello, Vertigo! It's been a while.

Gravity remains one law she's not so great at breaking. There's a quick flurry of windmilling limbs until she can orient herself, now looking up and upside down at the speeding railcar which she is all too happy to give two middle fingers to while screaming obscenities most people aren't able to hear.

A landing of some fashion is certain. It doesn't matter to her if she sees it coming or not, it's gonna suck either way. So, she's going to bitch and scream at the caped asshole who just did the Indiana Jones 'No Ticket' bit on her sorry butt!

Batman has posed:
It would be a lie to claim immunity to adrenaline or thrill-- but the Batman approaches his duty with a grim, stoic focus.

The Bat's sternly set jaw betrays nothing as he dives after the somewhat impotently rebelling Ravager-- between his mass and intentionality, alongside no shortage of practice, the Dark Knight quickly catches Rose before the bulk of their descent has even been covered. A grapnel line fires back up at the monorail support that nearly claimed a life as an equally practiced rescuer's tackle into a bearhug may quickly become -uncomfortably- tight.

Then there's the tenacity with which Batman seeks to crack the forehead crest of his armored cowl forward into Ravager's face, or the back of her head, depending on the angle of their clinch at the time. "Stand--" A beat, a strike, a descent that whirls deceptively out of control, despite being a thing the Caped Crusader has done thousands of times. "-- /DOWN/!" It's not a quip; it's just opportune synchronicity, obviously. The clear plan is to keep her dazed until they both crash-land in a drop controlled only by an improvised line. Some people live strange lives.

Ravager has posed:
On the upside, now Rose can see what's heading her way. The Batman, himself! Golly, what an honor! The two forms collide with one providing the mother of all hugs, but it's not so straightforward for the vigilante in black anymore. Rose has already taken one hit to the head. Frankly, she's not happy about it. Armored cowl or not, when Batman tries to headbutt her -she's headbutting him right the hell back.-

"Get outta my business you stupid bat!"

The clunking of skull on cowl already leads to some bleeding but she is NOT going down without first going to war. Martial arts may be more difficult while in a freefall but it doesn't keep her from trying to drive her knees into the Dark Knight and otherwise lashing out -however she can- until their joyride comes to a screeching halt.

There might also be some interesting trinkets she can steal from his belt so long as they're getting all up close and personal!

Batman has posed:
It's a difficult proposition, striking directly into top of the line modernized body armor. Rose's willful participation in the headbutt olympics is an impulse the Bat is only too willing to indulge-- and it's a trade he seems to get the better end of. Ravager does get a grunt of pain or three, however, during the struggle of striking knees and elbows and foreheads as the Dark Knight does his damndest to keep said armored sections aligned in expert deflections of each blow.

Just before they hit the ground, the line snaps taut, and its geometry turns descent into a rapid swing that sees the pair rushing just above the highway and landscaped medians below. It's into the latter that the Dark Knight seeks to launch Ravager at the last moment, detaching his grapnel and coming down in a harsh but precise tumble.

"Your business is murder-- you should change fields, /then/ ask again." Dry, deadpan, deadly intent and confident. From down the road, a roaring rumble like a demon-possessed racing hot rod chants on the wind. "Slade Wilson isn't the kind of man you want to emulate; or look to for pride and validation." It's remarkably polite for an observation so incredibly loaded; for a judgement and disdain so utterly familiar in assured assertion.

Ravager has posed:
If Rose smacks her own head against solid objects enough times she might eventually knock some sense into herself! Tonight is not that night. She doesn't shy away from causing more problems for herself since she's still getting the desired feedback of hearing Batman's resulting discomfort. Take that!

One calculated grapnel line spares them both from terminal velocity and leaves her tumbling along a different trajectory prior to getting dumped out across a section of grass.

Huh. Gotham has grass?

Disoriented but back on her feet and wiping blood from her mouth, the arrogant girl demands "When did I kill anyone?" Because SOMEone had gotten in her WAY...

This time. Nevermind all of those other times.

Batman makes a mistake. The sound of an approaching car doesn't cause Ravager to hesitate. As soon as he mentions her father she's drawing -- DAMMIT she left her swords behind because of the whole Skytrain--FUCK!

Plan B: Charge the Batman while yelling "Don't you say his name!!" while aiming to punch him good and hard where he -isn't- covered in so much armor: Right under the jaw. She may be young but this girl is still a damn good fighter and backed with metahuman strength and reflexes to boot.

Just as father had intended.

Batman has posed:
While Gotham has parks, in this case it's just a strip of greenway under a monorail overpass between a major highway exchange-- a landing chosen as precisely, if not with as much foresight, as Rose's priorly opportune ambush. The Dark Knight doesn't immediately press the offensive, though he barely takes his eyes off Rose.

The analytical attention with which the featureless cowl focuses upon her is one of veteran awareness and expertise possessed by few; at least outside the most elite of the League of Assassins. He sees the tension with the first words; feels the charge coming in the martial artists' chi between them; and the Dark Knight is perhaps unnervingly willing to weather it-- no, to welcome it.

"Cullinan. Fleck." He weaves away from these full force blows, rather than anchoring himself into deflection as during their descent. It's with feathery footwork and a flourish of scalloped cape that the Bat ducks and dodges around the worst of the initial strikes, freely giving ground to Rose. "-- Hanson. Hsu. Linn." He's read her dossier. It pays to spend funds between missions on those. There's nary a spike of ire or pressure as he recites a list under onslaught, even as Ravager scores a glancing blow off a surprisingly solid jaw, sending the Batman reeling to his right.

It's vulnerability Ravager would have trouble ignoring-- and she's far from the first metahuman the Dark Knight has faced. At this point, it is a lesson he seeks to teach to her-- perceived weakness becomes precise counter work, shifting aside from one blow and lifting an armored limb not to block her strike... but to capture the extended arm.

Capture, twist, strike at the joint with the opposite gauntlet's armored plates as the Caped Crusader twists with alacrity bordering on the supernatural himself... and drops his substantial weight to one knee. In one swift, unbroken motion, he seeks to return on Rose her gift to the Corpo above-- a broken arm.

Ravager has posed:
Much like dear old dad, the longer one spends fighting Ravager the better she learns their moves. Give her a few minutes and she'll keep pace. Fight her a couple of times and her defense will be incredibly difficult to break through.

Except that she doesn't like being on the defensive so much. Given the option, she will always press the attack.

Keeping the fight short and letting her think she's got the advantage works well to get around her habits, even if it runs a very serious risk of a broken jaw or damaged teeth when she lands the hit.

A list of names is rattled off as they fight. Does she remember any of them? Honestly, probably not. It's nothing which will keep her up at night, though the calmness of the Bat's recital is rather Pissing Her Off.

Uuuugh, if only she had her blades! She'd have this bastard pinned to the wall like a--
*Crack!*
--broken arm?

"FfffffAAAAUH!!"

Most people would be out by now. A broken limb brings with it a shock of agony but a newfound flexibility, the arm now able to contort in ways which it's not meant to. Rose may have a new set of problems to work through but she can at least try to return the favor by driving a foot back at the Batman's knee. Wanna break some bones?! Right back atcha!

Batman has posed:
"Do you think he'd be impressed by the list?" The Dark Knight asks with that customary icy, deep-toned stoicism. Taking a knee proves to have been an opportune plan-- as Ravager seeks to take one of his her way. Instead, she kicks into a crouched and braced Bat, driving his substantial mass back and digging a wide, angry rut in the ground beneath them.

"Did he tell you I've beaten him, too?" Presumptive? Perhaps. But the incisive boast is part and parcel to winning a fight where one is so inarguably physically outmatched. That, and Batman rather doubts Slade would have any kind of perspective on these things. It helps that of the few martial artists in the world who might surpass the Ravager, the Dark Knight is likely on or near the list. That, and the decades of experience.

The bruise on his leg likely -reaches- the bone, nonetheless. As he rises from his crouch, the Batman tosses a spherical charge into the air between them; as it bursts with a subtle crackle, said air fills with a brilliant, blinding flash-- and echoes with a reverberating, deafening bang.

It's in this same moment that the Caped Crusader, protected by his cowl, swaps from a measured defense and analysis to a quick offense in triplicate: An uppercut at the lowest point of Rose's ribcage, a rising knee aligned at-- cruelly-- that same point, and a spinning delivery with his weight behind that bullet-deflecting plate that runs from the back of his fist up towards the forearm of his specialty sneaksuit.

Ravager has posed:
What does Rose think?

"Shut up..Shut Up..SHUT UP!!"

Foot strikes leg and she can FEEL her opponent being pushed back but there's a distinct lack of snapping bones to accompany it. What the hell kind of armor is this guy wearing?!

"He's a piece of shit, same as you!" she snaps back, angling to find some other way to strike at the Bat without completely severing what's left of her arm. It's a lot harder to heal when it's detached...

It's also a lot harder to get any proper force behind a strike when dealing with cracked ribs. The air explodes from her lungs in a shocked cry an instant before she's sent hurtling through the air to land in an unnaturally crumpled heap.

Yeah, she's..not likely to hop back up from that.

Batman has posed:
"On that..." Batman rises fully as Ravager falls, the eyeslits of his cowl narrowing. "We can at least half agree." His arms are shrouded in his dark, flowing cape as the Dark Knight advances-- carefully-- on Rose. When it's clear she's not getting up immediately, he succumbs to a rather profound limp for the rest of the span, stooping with a grimace to check the murderous young woman's vitals.

A quick scan of his periphery confirms relative solitude, and Batman heaves a put-upon sigh before gingerly scooping Rose up, careful not to further damage her arm, and carries her towards the jet black 'car' looming across the highway divider. The cockpit slides open as the Bat approaches, and moments later, both the Dark Knight and his criminal foe are roaring down the road.

It's likely this reality-- and the reinforced restraints fastening her to said vehicle's passenger side-- that will greet Rose when she rouses, along with the expert medic's hand that has apparently set her broken arm. Field plaster was either right out-- or the bastard just wants to make sure if she scuffles immediately, Rose will just break it again. Darkness gathers in Gotham as streetlights struggle to make up the difference, and the batmobile rumbles into the city's outskirts.

Ravager has posed:
When Rose does find her breath it's to croak a weak sounding "Fuck you." But, no. She's not fighting for anything more than consciousness at the moment. She DID take a lot of head trauma in a short amount of time.

It's for the best she's barely aware of the guy carrying her back to the Batmobile.

It's better still she can't trash the fuck out of the interior upon coming to.

It starts with a hiss of breath between teeth, a tensing of muscles, and an immediate gasp of pain when tension is applied to the set (but only just) limb and battered ribs. In a few days it should be fine so long as she doesn't get utterly careless in the meantime... Which is REALLY HARD TO DO considering she's now sitting inside the goddamned BATMOBILE.

Though on the other hand this could be worth a helluva lot of street cred. How many bigshot villains have ended up in this very situation?

"You start all your dates this way?" she scoffs with a subtle showing of teeth.

Unhappy Ravager is supremely unhappy. Dammit, she's -broken out of- steel shackles before. Back when everything was properly mended.

Back when she was on the juice.

Batman has posed:
"This isn't a date." It's that same, stalwart certainty. It's not a joke the Dark Knight seems to find funny-- and a thing he's immediately clear on. "Where do you think this ends?"

With that query comes the first subtle drop in the Batman's facade. The words are quieter, undertoned with concern and regret. He's seen a lot of operatives consumed by the cycles of violence, vengeance, anger, hatred by now. Too many.

"Doing the bloody bidding of one amoral cretin on another-- or worse, on those who don't deserve their ire." Not everyone with a hit taken out on them 'deserves' to die, even outside the Bat's objection to /any/ murder.

The armored hypercar makes a surprisingly smooth turn-- for as near to ninety degrees as it is-- and shoots off down a secondary road and into a forested passage, the moon scarcely tracing dull silver trails through the boughs. "Is it a death wish? That much resentment? If you hate him, why live his life?" The Dark Knight does not understand-- but to his credit, he is trying to.

Ravager has posed:
No, clearly it isn't a date. It's looking to be something much, much worse...

A 'Dad Talk.'

Rose's eyes flicker as they roll skyward, letting out a long breath which plays with a messy lock of hair. She might be wearing some of the median's grass after their last tumble.

"Are we really gonna do this?" she asks in a 'kill me now' lilt. "Oh yeah, 'cause -you're- one to talk about morality."

The car makes its turn and Rose right along with it while effectively being welded to the seat. It's not comfortable on her injuries but nowhere near as bad as getting kneed in the ribs. Still, it gets a grimace out of her.

Ugh, god. He's talking about her father again. Blue eyes narrow as she flicks a glare his way, lips curling up in a snarl. "-Drop it- already. If I wanted a fireside chat there's phone numbers I could call."

She's not ready to start delving into personal secrets yet, though she's not opposed to doing some digging in return.

"What gives, anyway? Word was you turned your back on this town."

Batman has posed:
"I'm not the one killing strangers for money." Batman retorts simply and smoothly, with no apparent spike in irritation from the insinuation. Or the idea that he's abandoned the City. Turn his back on Gotham? "/That/ will never happen." Anyone claiming the contrary is a terrible informant, clearly.

"If you had people to call, /before/ this killing spree would have been a good time; it's a little late to fall back on not wanting to have the conversation." There is certainly a parental tilt to the disapproval-- concerned and disgusted all at once. It goes deeper than that, though-- how narrow a margin of choice it would take for the Dark Knight to have become a very different operator. A killer in the shadows, himself.

"If you don't want to talk to /me/, and you don't want to talk to /them/, the only path forward is talking to the Courts-- they'll have trouble holding you, a worse time rehabilitating you, and the safe bet is on this happening again, imminently. Maybe next time you draw someone willing to kill you; or a hero you can kill. Maybe next time someone you -do- care about pays, instead."

Ravager has posed:
"Uh huh" is all Rose offers back about Batman never abandoning the city. Bad intel or not, she'll have some news for the rumor mill once she gets out of this damn car.

Right back to the offensive she goes. "'Killing spree,' dramatic much? It was one dude. ONE. DUDE. Something about stealing another guy's patents and profiting off of..I don't fucking know. We all got bills to pay. Everyone except people who can own one of -these-" she says with emphasis given by smacking the side of her head against the car's interior.

His comment about it happening again is met with an all too easily voiced "Yooou know it." Still, the thought of getting thrown into the system and having to deal with courts and jail and all that fun garbage... She'll need a few days to recover and a lot can happen in a few days. These towns, they have ways of dealing with metahumans. The longer it goes on the harder it'll be for her to see daylight again.

Face the facts, Rose. He's got you backed into a big ol' Bat-shaped corner here.

Another muttered curse as her head rolls off to one side. "For a guy who's got eyes everywhere you sure don't see what's in front of you. I'm not trying to BE him. I'm trying to be BETTER than him. Save the morality bullshit, the only way to get him off my back is to put him in his place and the only way I do THAT is by beating him at his own game."

Batman has posed:
"One today; another in a long list." At least by some standards. In this case, one is definitely enough to get the Batman on hers. "There are better ways for someone with your skillset to get by; better ways for someone with /his/." To say the very least. It probably helps his case that Rose is seeing the primary batmobile and none of the more... exotic and expensive vehicles the Dark Knight has commissioned or co-opted. "You're never going to beat Slade at his own game; you could be the most prolific mercenary and assassin in the world, outstrip all his 'accomplishments', and he wouldn't care..."

Beat. "All you'll have managed is to become a bigger monster." Hardened to everything that might still niggle now, to every care and bond or meaning the world might provide. It's how one becomes the kind of person who does-- well-- what Deathstroke has done. "I'm not much of a gambler, but what I /can/ see is that outcome almost -has- to be within the man's designs. Exactly what he hoped to make you."

It's an ominous thought, at least to the Bat. Deathstroke's sick experiments and strange perversion of parentage can be indicted on a lot more angles than, well... the Batman's own odd family.

Ravager has posed:
Fair point. It's a long list and growing all the time. One here, one there, they do add up. If Rose stopped to count a total it might take her by surprise, though whether in a good way or bad is debatable.

"Do I look like hero material to you? The only reason most of those damn capes know of me is because 'that's Deathstroke's kid.'" Snort. "Won't care if he's dead."

Between this remark and Batman's follow-up about being a bigger monster it's like receiving another one-two punch, a glimmer of truth and a pinpoint of clarity which her precognitive ability would have never seen coming.

And this is why she didn't want to talk about Slade Wilson. Not with anyone. Certainly not with the Batman. Her plan had holes in it but she was too angry to pay them any mind. Then THIS bastard comes along...

For the second time tonight Batman's got her on the proverbial ropes. Her only remaining defense is to scoff "Don't act like you know me," though it's already lacking the energy and vitriol of her earlier retaliations.

Batman has posed:
"That's not up to me." Though, yes, the platinum-haired woman could probably make quite the striking hero, should she choose to. Heroes also love swords. To say her plan has a few holes is like noting the Titanic was slightly sinkable after all.

Batman doesn't immediately press the issue, though. Instead he acknowledges her last ditch defense snap as true enough. "I know Slade a lot better than I know you. But how well do /you/ know yourself?" the Dark Knight notes meaningfully. Perhaps it's a -bit- mollifying. It certainly explains his certainty that she's not getting one up on the man THIS way.

The windshield of the batmobile polarizes to such a degree that it becomes nearly impossible to see out of-- at least, for Rose-- as the batmobile makes a decisive turn and starts speeding, rather than cruising, in a new direction. "I'm going to take you for medical attention, and to someone better to talk to than I am." Batman explains calmly, but not coldly.

"Stay calm, keep your head, or the //only// place this ends is prison." Their destination is an unassuming clinic tucked away in one of Gotham's poorer districts, the practice of one Leslie Thompkins. The Dark Knight will put in a call to Batgirl and her direct associates... and linger protectively until they arrive to take custody of Ravager. Didn't Batman just claim he wasn't a gambler? It's possible the Caped Crusader is not always one hundred percent honest and forthcoming.