15224/Insurance Provider

From United Heroes MUSH
Jump to navigation Jump to search
Insurance Provider
Date of Scene: 17 June 2023
Location: Gotham, Old Town.
Synopsis: Summary needed
Cast of Characters: Joker, Spoiler

Joker has posed:
Not every evil in Gotham wears a mask.

Your latest work in Spoiling Crime, Stephanie, has been trying to cut into the illicit medical trade. Not only do mob doctors and medicine thieves keep criminals up and running, they're a ready source of research and supplies for super-criminals. Scarecrow couldn't operate without a thousand wannabes getting him regular doses of chemicals he'd otherwise need a bazooka to get access to, for example. You've been building evidence on a theft and redistribution ring: at least one doctor, two nurses and a few volunteers at a 'free clinic' overcharging for pills and distributing them out the literal back door of the clinic to whoever can pay.

You were supposed to stake out the building and get some footage of distribution of the drugs, but there's a problem. Business always starts at eleven pm, sharp, but no one's going near the clinic. The lights are on, but there's no real signs of movement inside.
Spoiler has posed:
Stakeouts. They're the bread and butter of the Bat Family. For every knock down fight with a supervillain, there's at least a week's worth of skulking and watching. Waiting, listening and collecting evidence. Sometimes it's insufferable, even for her. She likes the puzzle of it, finding all of the cracks, all of the pieces to a scheme and then, well, spoiling it. With these things, there's always a pattern. For as chaotic as the criminal element are, they're very predictable.

Until something happens. Until they aren't. Like now.

From her little camp out site on the other side of the street, the Spoiler lurks, watching the little back alley clinic, waiting for the usual suspects to arrive. When they don't, her hackles go up. The lights are on, but -nothing- is happening. Behind her mask, she frowns. One grapple later, and she's on the roof of the clinic, hunting a way in. A quiet way in at that.
Joker has posed:
It's Gotham, there's a way inside of a roof. A few cheap, badly repaired slits if you want to be fancy about it, or the upper window if you want to have a comfortable way back out just in case there really is something wrong down there.

Stephanie can almost hear something. It sounds like. Music?

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RD78dtBhwtw to be specific.

Which route do you take in, Spoiler?
Spoiler has posed:
Her arrival is normal. It's a building like many in Old Town. Easy to breach, many angles of entry. Still, despite the fact that she's done this hundreds of times, something about this feels off. It's making her feel on edge, the usual calm and control is trembling.

The music is -not- helping. She glances between the bad repairs and the window, weighing her options. She chooses the window despite her instincts telling her to get the hell out. To call for backup. Slowly, she pulls the window open, inching it so that hinges don't squeal. She draws a deep breath, trying not to flinch at the music. It's eerie because it's so out of place.

Steadying her nerves, she slips into the window, silent as a shadow and ready to face whatever terror is in there. If any.
Joker has posed:
The window makes a little noise, which is odd. Rust, maybe? Or just stuck? Regardless nothing leaps out screaming like some kind of animatronic bear haunted by a lost child, so everything seems good, except that you're in the attic of a sawhouse for meatball surgery and stolen prescription drugs at midnight and someone's playing music just loud enough to cover what's going on downstairs.

Almost. There's a thud.

As you make your way through the attic, Spoiler, you find a direct way down to the top floor and a solid look at what's happening. There's someone, improbably, by the latch to the attic. A guard?

The man, one of the nurses that helps run the scam, slumps down into your limited light. His hands are starting to curl into little fists, his eyes wide and glassy. But that's not what's important.

What's important is the man's lips, curled forever into the rictus grin of a skull, his chest bloated and neck half broken: tell tale signs of a man having laughed himself to death.
Spoiler has posed:
The guard makes her tense up. She wasn't prepared for the roof access to be guarded, that makes ... Okay, in this town it makes a great deal of sense. She flinches at the squeak, but when the man doesn't move, she frowns behind her mask.

Then she gets a good look at him, and her heart tries to escape out of her mouth. She knows that effect. That grin. That terrible death. Under her breath, she tries to swear, but nothing comes out. Reflexively, she moves away, crouching low. Her footsteps become slow and absolutely silent as she creeps through, looking for a way down while, at the same time, she just wants to run. To flee. She can't though, if He's here, she has to at least put eyes on Him. To know if she needs to call for backup.

Honestly, she should have done so already.

Instead, she draws her cape around her closer and just moves towards the sounds below. To her doom? Possibly.
Joker has posed:
The upstairs is full of boxes. There are medical supplies, gauze, lots of innocuous things that look creepy as hell in the dark, and with the music. The corpse certainly didn't help. If Spoiler had the time, she'd be able to get some excellent evidence digging through these boxes. Maybe take one? Maybe not, that is a crime. Sort of.

Downstairs, Spoiler can see the cheap back alley clinic. There's a boom box playing the Disney music, and a man in a jacket with a white face grinning on it crossing his arms and guarding the door. He's half paying attention.

Because it's hard to focus when the Joker's intimidating someone. One of the men down there is dead, an orderly, who's body is still twitching from the slow death.

"Now, gentlemen, I'm not opposed to free enterprise. Far from it." Joker says, hovering over the one doctor, a little smile on his ghoulish face. "I just want to exchange some information. I need this laundry list of components, and you have the means to get them. It's a little late to develop a sense of morals, isn't it? Is my money not GOOD enough for you, doctor?!"
Spoiler has posed:
This Silent Hill ass attic is not helping Steph's mood. Even if it is just medical supplies and such. The psychology of why that stuff is creepy is a thought exercise to have another time. Now is the time for creeping.

She parks herself in a place she can see down and hear clearly, crouching and drawing into herself in a handy shadow. She slowly reaches up to tug her hood forward a bit more to keep her face in shadow. The last person she ever wants to see her is down there engaging in business. It's important. She taps on her wrist to start recording what's being said down there. Batman needs to know. Everyone needs to know.

The question is, will she get enough information before the terror takes over? Before her own fear makes her flee into the night?