3753/Kevin Q. Thornton's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day.

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Kevin Q. Thornton's Terrible Horrible No Good Very Bad Day.
Date of Scene: 28 January 2018
Location: Manhattan, dockside
Synopsis: The Spoiler overheard rumors of a job going down. When she gets to the place, it turns out she's not the only vigilante who found out about it...
Cast of Characters: Shadow, Spoiler




Shadow has posed:
Every demographic, every group of people with common jobs or interests will wind up flocking together in one location or another to talk shop, talk business, or at least talk with people who understand what you're talking about. Low-level criminals are no exception, although given the number of law enforcement agencies that would love to hear all about them as well, their venues tend to shift regularly as word gets out that one is burned, which in turn keeps the would-be wiretappers busy.

    ... Of course, it helps when your father isn't nearly as clever as he thinks he is and leaves information about the latest joint's location where an inquisitive daughter can find it...

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown planted her bugs the day beforehand, playing the part of a lost pizza delivery girl. She was cute enough to at least talk her way inside and the goons were eager enough that they took the pizza they didn't even order. They searched her a bit to make sure she wasn't a cop, but she was better than them and easily evaded their half-assed procedures.

And now she sat across the street on a rooftop, in costume proper, listening to the taps she put in on a makeshift receiver. The spy kit was literally something she bought off of the internet so she hoped it wouldn't be total crap.

Shadow has posed:
    Chatter in the bar is its usual mix of bragging, complaining, reminiscing and commiserating - heists scored, problems encountered ('damn bats' is a very common refrain, this being Gotham), bosses worked for (and a brief debate about whether Batman or the Joker is worse; consensus seems to be that at least Batman will only scare the shit out of you, beat you up and throw you in jail, whereas the Joker might randomly shoot you just to make a punchline), heists that went bad (again with the 'damn bats'), laments about people no longer present due to jail (or worse, the Joker), the inevitable idiot that's probably new in time bragging how the Bat can't possibly be that tough and getting physically thrown out...

    However, in between the chatter there's a useful tip -- apparently some outfit in New York has run into trouble because the legal cover for their operation got downsized, and they're paying overtime for help shifting what they still had in a warehouse before someone from new management finds the problems with the books.

    No names named, of course, but there's an address and a time to show up mentioned...

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown probably shouldn't be out at that time, if she wants to get anything resembling sleep, but, well, she didn't sign up for this particular gig so that she could keep normal hours. Anyway, she was young, she could burn the midnight oil as much as she liked. For now.

She manages to find the address, although getting to New York took some time, along with navigating it. The new bike helped, that's for sure, sleek and black and trimmed in purple. She could barely believe it was hers and had to hide it desperately in her neighborhood to make sure nobody ganked it.

Shadow has posed:
    The bike's engine purrs like a contented kitten, making almost no noise even as she races down the highway and over the bridge connecting Gotham to New York. The address turns out to be one of the many, many warehouses along the docks of Hudson Bay. The lights are out and the doors are closed to avoid attracting attention, but the guy that's slightly too casually smoking a cigarette near the staff entrance is a dead giveaway if you know what to look for.

    As the Spoiler approaches the roof, she can make out muted flickering through the windows - apparently they're using flashlights to see enough to work. A few obviously armed toughs are standing guard while about a dozen guys are quietly but efficiently loading crates and boxes into a truck under the supervision of someone dressed about two pay grades better than the average...

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown winces under her mask - that's a lot of dudes for her all by her lonesome. She's gotten pretty good, but she's not Batman as of yet. Probably never will be, to be honest, that guy's a little too high strung.

Still, that doesn't mean she can't do anything. She keeps to the shadows as best she can, trying to get a proper peek through the windows and hoping she can spot an unattended crate that she can expect. Worst comes to worst, she can always call in an anonymous tip.

Shadow has posed:
    Luck appears to be with her tonight -- One of the windows on the upper floor was left open to let the cool night air in, and both of the armed thugs are patrolling on the ground floor. The dark purple of her outfit helps her blend into the shadows, so she should be fine as long as no one points a flashlight directly at her...

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown drops in silently, landing in a crouch and keeping her cape wrapped around her. She shifts forward in a careful crabwalk, moving in to peek into the box and keeping a hand on her belt, a throwing disc on hand just in case someone took her off-guard. Once she knows what they're dealing in, she'll have a better sense of just how in over her head she is.

Shadow has posed:
    As it happens, she's not the only one curious...

"Ya got any idea what's in these crates, Joey?" one of the carrying goons asks, grunting as he lifts said crate up to the truck's loading bed.

"No, and I ain't askin'," comes the response from his partner, who continues in a lower voice. "Way I heard, fancy pants over there --" he indicates the better dressed man with a jerk of his head, "had this sweet deal going with this actual legit shipping company. He'd make sure the stuff showed up here all packed up nice and official, and they'd make sure it got where it needed to be, no questions asked, traveling all the way across the country without inspections."

"Whoa. Nice. So what happened?"

A shrug. "Not sure. Word is his boss showed up out of the blue and fired him without explanation a couple months ago. He don't like to talk about it but he's pretty pissed..."

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown frowns under her mask and tries to get a better look at 'fancy pants' - she might even try to sneak a few pictures of him with her little digital camera - no flash, of course, she's not stupid. She may not know who he is, but she might be able to contact someone to seek out the picture for her.

She also makes a point to try and peek in one of the crates, prying it open and hoping she doesn't get a face full of radiation for her troubles.

Shadow has posed:
    Just when she's about to pry open a crate, the ambient light dims even further as flashlights start to flicker and cut out. Muttered curses and exclamations of surprise are cut short, however, as a sinister chuckle starts drifting through the stacks - a chuckle that gradually deepends into full-out laughter.

    This isn't the Joker's laughter -- anyone who's lived in Gotham for a given length of time knows exactly what that laugh sounds like, the hysterical cackle of someone who discarded notions of 'good' and 'evil', who is about to inflict horror and suffering on the world just for his own amusement -- this is focused menace rather than random malice.

    The armed guards have their guns out and up, but the sound echoes strangely and the location shifts with every syllable, and the way they swing around their weapons at every change in position does nothing to calm the the other thugs down. Several crates hit the ground, some cracking on impact, as the people carrying them suddenly decide they want their hands free -- or at least, nothing weighing them down should they feel the need to run.

    And then the words come.

    "Kevin Thornton," the voice intones, almost mockingly like a very large and feline predator toying with its prey, and 'fancy pants' jerks with a start. "You've been keeping busy, Kevin. Burning your paperwork, doing your best to ruin your colleague's life by putting the blame for your work on him. But then again, what are friends for if not to be scapegoats? Isn't that right?"

    Judging by the way 'Kevin' twitches, that hit home. But the voice isn't finished yet. "Of course, if he testified your little frame job would've fallen apart. So you decided he had to go. A destroyed career, the prospect of disgrace and imprisonment, an office on the thirtieth floor and an open window, so sad, what a tragedy, what an open and shut case..." Another peal of laughter echoes from the walls. "Did you really think you'd gotten away with it? Did you really think no one would KNOW!?" The last syllable is snarled rather than spoken, coming from just behind Kevin -- and when he turns around, a shadowy blur solidifies into a fist that collides with his jaw and knocks him off his feet, slamming him back against the side of the truck.

    Goons yell, weapons are drawn... But there's no one there. Just laughter.

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown isn't doing much better than the crooks, to be honest. She's not sure who that voice is, but they sound scary as all hell. Whatever's happening, it seems a little beyond her junior vigilante paygrade.

She clings close to the shadows and, when the melee breaks out, she picks her spot. SHe waits until one of the thugs has his back turned and strikes low, clipping his knee and then throwing a chloroform capsule in the face of another, a knockout burst as she tries to strike and retreat, getting back out of the line of fire while the mysterious other vigilante does the heavy lifting.

Shadow has posed:
    Of course, it's a little harder to sneak when everyone you're hiding from is on high alert and hair triggers, but for a few seconds more everyone is still gawking at where 'Kevin' was just knocked off his feet, and one of the armed thugs goes down with a yell of pain that causes the other to look over just in time to catch Spoiler's chloroform capsule to the face.

     He coughs, scrabbling at his face and drawing in a breath to yell -- the worst possible decision he could've made, as he helpfully draws the chloroform straight into his lungs, and all that comes out is a gasping squeak before he folds up.

    Meanwhile, some of the other goons have drawn switchblades or grabbed the nearest heavy and long object to use as an impromptu club, but they're heavily hampered by the fact that there is no one to stab or swing at -- until another, almost humanoid blur delivers a straight-armed open-palm punch into probably-Joey's sternum, sending him reeling back into his partner, but when another goon takes a swing at the movement he hits nothing but air, his legs are swept out from under him and something takes hold of his collar, breaking his fall and throwing him into two more goons...

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown keeps low as best she can, using a makeshift truncheon to take a couple of kneecaps before leaping to get over behind a few of the crates - only to find herself face to face with a henchman with a switchblade who had the same idea.

"Hi," she manages to say before flicking a kick to try and disarm him. The guy's got at least a hundred pounds on her and nearly a foot in height, but she has the advantage of speed, training and a complete willingness to kick him right in the balls.

Shadow has posed:
    You'd think that athletic cups should be standard issue for goons expecting to get into a fight, but this poor guy doesn't appear to have gotten the memo, and he curls up around himself to spend some time considering his poor life choices in a -- forgive me -- private world of pain.

    In the larger melee, the goons' morale, already low to begin with, has shattered -- the few who can still walk are making a break for the exit, and the ones that were hit are staying down, unconscious or just unwilling to move. In the sudden silence, the sound of heavy boots pacing down the center aisle is almost thundering, and the Spoiler looks up over the crate just in time to see shadows flowing together, coalescing into a blurry shape that solidifies further with each step towards Kevin's fallen form until a tall figure in a black coat and cloak and matching slouch hat bends over, grabs his suit lapels in one hand and almost casually lifts him with one arm before slamming him against the side of the truck. "Here's what's going to happen, Kevin. The cops will arrive soon, and when they do, you are going to confess /everything/. Every crate of filth you smuggled. Every life you ruined to cover your sorry behind. Because if you don't -- I'll /know/. And I'll /find/ you wherever you think you can hide. Do. You. UNDERSTAND?"

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown has found her way to the top of one of the crates, sitting cross-legged atop it and watching the figure finish the job. She kind of suspects that tall, dark and hatty didn't need the help, but she enjoyed pitching in her part. She wasn't sure how she could take all these guys out on her own and it's a lot easier when it turned out she didn't have to.

"If he doesn't, I could write it down, I've got a notepad and everything. I mean, he might have a concussion, memory issues could be a thing," she says.

Shadow has posed:
    The hooded figure's head turns at Stephanie's comment, and a pair of almost blazingly blue eyes glare at her from underneath that hat and the red scarf Spoiler now realizes covers the rest of the face before turning back to Kevin, who just barely manages to gibber an affirmative response.

    The figure nods, then slams Kevin back against the truck one more time -- clearly, he isn't all that worried about possible concussions -- then opens his hand and lets him fall limply to the ground before pulling a set of cuffs from somewhere and cuffing one wrist to the truck.

    That done, the figure straightens and turns to look at Stephanie again, those eyes boring into her, briefly making her wonder if they can see through the mask somehow.

    "I suspect you're as uninterested in being here when the police arrive as I am," the figure comments, then inclines their head in the direction of the exit, already starting to walk that way...

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown shrinks a bit under the glare, "Sorrrrrrrrrrry, I was just kinda...keeping it light," she says, pushing down off the top of the crate to land on her feet. "And yeah, cops don't tend to be super crazy about unlawful vigilante types, no matter how neat our capes are. Nice coat, by the way," she says.

She starts to follow along towards the exit, trotting along to make a run for it and keeping up, "So, I'm Spoiler. This isn't my usual territory, I usually kind of hang out in Gotham, but I got a tip and followed it here and...uh, yeah. It's nice to meet you and stuff."

Shadow has posed:
    The figure nods silently, clearly not one for small talk as behind them flashlights brighten again as if they'd never been turned off. As they reach the door, the figure pauses. "Once the alarm goes off law enforcement will be on the scene within five minutes. Will that be enough time for you to get clear?"

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown nods, flexing her gloved hands, "My bike's just around the corner, I'll be out of the area fast as a rabbit," she says. "It's okay if you don't want to tell me your name, I just figure, like, people in our line of work should stick together. But you wanna do the loner thing, I get it, you're pretty badass obviously."

Shadow has posed:
    The responding huff has just enough of a snort in it to possibly have been an abbreviated chuckle, as the figure pulls out one of the bigger handguns Spoiler has seen so far and points it at what looks like a very unassuming little rectangular box. She has just enough time to realize that it's almost certainly a concealed keypad before it's obliterated in the flash and the roar of a single gunshot. "Time to leave. I don't visit Gotham, as a rule -- but who knows?"

    With that, the figure turns and leaves, blurring and vanishing into the shadows as if made out of them and Spoiler finds herself standing alone in the doorway of a warehouse full of unconscious or at least incapacitated goons, a large stack of smuggled goods, and a silent alarm that's almost certainly howling its head off at the nearest police station. Leaving now would be a very good idea...

Spoiler has posed:
Stephanie Brown hops on her bike, shaking her head, "Man. This line of work has some real freaks. But I guess I can't really talk," she says, kicking her bike into gear and taking off into the streets. And then waiting until she's at least a decent distance away before she tries to figure out where she actually is.

Shadow has posed:
    Fortunately, New York seems to have almost been designed for people who get lost easily -- almost the entire city is a rectangular grid and one of the axes is even conveniently numbered. A quick check of google maps on her phone gives her the quickest route back to the highway, and she's off. Even better, traffic is fairly light this late at night, so there's only the occasional late night delivery truck or taxi driver to worry about.


And in the back of one of the latter, an elegantly dressed woman in her early thirties leans back in her seat, smiling to herself while the cab drives her home. It's been a good night. Well, for most people, at least. Kevin Thornton probably feels differently, but nobody is likely to care about his opinion...