5177/Red and black, two tastes that go well together

Red and black, two tastes that go well together
Date of Scene:	15 August 2018
Location:	Gotham, the docks
Synopsis:	The Shadow's investigation of the smuggling network takes her to Gotham, and encounters one of its Bat-vigilantes in the process.
Cast of Characters:	Shadow, Batwoman

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Shadow has posed:
    Even a city like Gotham has quiet nights, sometimes. Although Gotham tends to define those as 'a relatively low number of minor street crimes and no supervillain capers at all'. Gothamites' perceptions are a bit skewed sometimes. Nonetheless, it's a quiet night for Batwoman; the police scanner is almost suspiciously silent, and the one mugging she encountered was barely worth mentioning -- the guy went gratifyingly pale when he saw the cowl and dropped his knife before she even had an opportunity to hit him...

    Clearly, right now the hunting in downtown isn't worth the effort. Perhaps the docks will have some better catches; now that she thinks of it there's a certain feeling of /too/ bland coming from the rote reports on the scanner, as if someone is reporting all clears without actually checking...

Batwoman has posed:
    The docks have produced some of her favourite collars. Drug smuggling rings. A giant gorilla. And that strange armored creature with the green plasma. So with Gotham for the most part quiet, Kate has found her way towards the docks - Frequently changing heights as she ditches high-rises for small businesses, for alleyways, for the warehouses that define the docks. It's well past midnight, and with nothing on the horizon, Batwoman has taken a seat upon the apex of the store, looking out over the filth-ridden waters that make up the bay, hidden from the roadside by the barge flashing and signs that cap the building.

    Armored fingers reach into her utility belt, to retrieve something a little less bat-themed to keep her energy up. A protein bar. Which is unwrapped, and the dark chocolate exterior is eased inbetween those rich, red lips, as the pale woman enjoys a midnight snack. It's occuring to her that it might be 'too quiet.' But what to do about /that/.

Shadow has posed:
    There appears to be at least /some/ veracity to the reports; the streets below her are almost entirely abandoned, save for the occasional taxi pursuing a late night fare, the garbage trucks working to make sure the streets are clean in the morning, and a few very late party-goers staggering home or toward the nearest taxi...

    ... And a truck driving into an unloading dock that has no lights on at all -- and goes entirely dark once the door closes behind it. It's still too early for pre-dawn deliveries to go out, and even if they were, they'd be driving up to the /loading/ dock...

Batwoman has posed:
    It's more the no-lights than the location that piques Kate's interest. Half of a protein bar disappears back into her belt, and she pushes herself up easily from the rooftop, thick boots moving as she takes a closer look at precisely where it's disappeared to. The Batwoman might as well check it out. Worst case scenario, she's in and out without being noticed, right? A delicate jump carried the suited-heroine from rooftop to container, and from there it's almost easily managed down to the floor, with a small tuck and roll to keep herself from feeling any of the ground shock, and stalking through the darkness she makes her way to the unloading dock.

    Rather than make her way through the front door, causing notice and fireworks, she decides to slip around the side, to look for a door, or a window, or anything she can make an unannounced entry.

Shadow has posed:
    True, it could be perfectly innocent. There's any number of reasons why one might want to make a delivery in the deep of night. And maybe the freight is extremely light-sensitive, so you'd have to keep the warehouse dark while moving the crates. Inconvenient maybe but perfectly innocent. And if it's that sensitive it only makes sense to have some security, like those burly chaps lurking by the entrance with obvious bulges in their jackets that suggest uzis at a minimum, maybe a shotgun for that big lug over there...

Batwoman has posed:
    Well. Perhaps some drama is called for this evening then. Since there's armed guards and all. She's no stranger to secretive freight, but there's an easy way to tell whether this freight is the kind that might call for intervention. With the distinctive gunmetal of her collapsible rifle visible against her thigh, the black-clad-bat makes her way out from the shadows, facing the guards at the entryway. Long, red hair cascading behind her, the pale lower half of her face exposed, and that fierce red logo emblazoned upon her chest. The quirk to her lips telling, and the taint to her voice far from her would-be-inspiration's gravelled tones.

    It's rich. Sensual, and full. "Hello Boys."

Shadow has posed:
    The goons' reaction is encouragingly immediate - apparently training standards have gone up in the underworld lately. "Fuck, it's a Bat!" yells one of them as he and a compatriot draw matching uzis. "Sound the alarm!" the other yells as they raise their guns, about to open fire...

Batwoman has posed:
    They never learn. Batwoman only gives herself enough time for a shrug, the hands at her hips spreading her fingers, and releasing a sudden cascade of smoke from her current position. In a second, she's completely obscured, and the area around her has become a smoke-bath. The sort of thing that criminals would find extremely hard to see through.

    The sort of thing her cowl cuts through like a knife. Her movements are immediate, dashing forward and grasping the Uzi by the slide, her fingers releasing the clip as she hauls the goon forward by his own grip, and slams an armored fist into his face. He crumples, releasing the gun - And now empty, it makes a perfectly suitable 'something' to hurl at the head of his friend.

    Finally. Something interesting.

Shadow has posed:
    The goons react to the sudden smoke with a great deal of angry yelling and quite the enthusiastic spray of fire in the general direction of where they thought they remembered Batwoman standing before she threw the smoke grenades. Unsurprisingly, the fire goes wide, and the cowl's vision enhancement lets Batwoman see exactly where his friends are.

    The other Uzi-wielder drops his gun and clutches his face when his friend's empty weapon collides with it, and a little further away she can see the shotgun wielder suddenly being thrown along the dock by someone who isn't there -- she can just barely see an outline where the smoke is billowing around a solid shape, but the shape is entirely empty to her eyes...

Batwoman has posed:
    Not that small arms fire could harm her much anyway, but it does sting a little bit. Batwoman goes to subdue the shotgun-wielding ne'er-do-well, and finds him suddenly thrown by a figure that fails to respond to anything more than 'presence' on her cowl. And despite that easy smile that rests upon her lips, her hand drums upon her thigh - And the rifle is couched in her hand, immediately extending to it's full length as she looks at the 'figure' through the smoke.

    A step forward allows her to bring her stepped, thick heel down upon the head of the other Uzi-thug, to ensure he isn't going to interfere, before she inquires. "This party is invitation only - Black-Tie. I hope you're dressed appropriately." Friend or foe, it remains to be seen.

Shadow has posed:
    The answering chuckle is far from reassuring, and would probably be considered downright unsettling by anyone who hasn't repeatedly faced Batman in full-on growling mode on occasion.

    "That would depend entirely on what might be considered 'appropriate'," comes the response as the billowing clouds show that figure walking toward Batwoman - and between one step and the next it coalesces, shadows and smoke solidifying into a vaguely human shape.

    A black greatcoat and opera cloak over a suit that seems to hail from an earlier era, a black slouch hat covering the head and a crimson scarf the only flash of color, concealing the rest of their face aside from a pair of piercing sapphire eyes that take in Batwoman's form before nodding in respect. "Normally, I'd honor Batman's claim of Gotham as protected by him and his, but I've been tracking this smuggling operation for a while now and this is where the investigation led."

    The figure spreads their hands, keeping them visible and well away from the gun harness Batwoman can glimpse underneath the coat, holding at least four heavy pistols if she's any judge, and waits for the redheaded Bat to decide how to respond.

Batwoman has posed:
    "We do not need help." Kate's answer is simple, and could almost be a blanket statement, those amusement tinged red lips tasting the air as she speaks. As if she's trying to work out if there's some chemical traces to that smoke that seems to whisp around the strange outfit, to know if what she's dealing with is human, or not.

    "And people doing their 'best' are people who will get themselves killed. At least you look like a professional." That's at least acknowledged, however the Batwoman only lowers her rifle, failing to put it away. The stock lines up with her forearm as it's lowered, and held in one hand - The weapon turned just a little, to allow steady firing with one hand. Everything the XMR project could have wished for.

    The redhead considers the situation for a moment, "You want this dance? I'll let you have it, but whether you like it or not, I'll be your dance-partner. Just to prevent any issues of ettiquette coming up later down the track."

Shadow has posed:
    "Think of it less as help, and more as 'hot pursuit' as law enforcement would call it," the figure responds, casting a glance at the still-rolled-down door. "#-1 FUNCTION () NOT FOUND DID YOU MEAN '@@'

Shadow has posed:
    "Think of it less as help, and more as 'hot pursuit' as law enforcement would call it," the figure responds, casting a glance at the still-rolled-down door. "Given that they haven't come out after the alarm was raised, they're probably setting up a welcoming committee for whoever comes through this door..."

    A moment's consideration, then those eyes turn back to Batwoman, a slight crinkling at the edges seeming to indicate amusement. "You may want to find somewhere to hide..." the figure remarks, chuckling under their breath as it fades away again one bit at a time like a goth re-imagining of the Cheshire Cat, the eyes and an unseen grin vanishing last, the settling smoke leaving no sign of where it has gone until Kate notices an odd shadow just by the edge of the door...

Batwoman has posed:
    Hmn. It looks like she's going to let the other woman take the lead. If only because the figure has already taken up her position by the door. A soft chuckle escapes her painted lips, and she reaches for her belt again, taking a slim cylinder from it and sliding it into the underside of her rifle.

    "There is nothing here to hide from." Batwoman mentions with her traditional confidence, "Unless you're ashamed to be seen with me." But that being said, she begins to head towards the other side of the door, rifle at the ready.

Shadow has posed:
    The people inside open fire the moment the door starts rising, ripping large holes through the metal that would certainly have meant a great deal of inconvenience for anyone standing in front of it. Credit the thugs with enthusiasm if nothing else, but it takes a good thirty seconds before the hail of fire trickles off as the realization that there wasn't anyone in the target zone thinks in.

    An awkward silence begins to fall, only to be disrupted by that same chuckle Batwoman heard earlier, echoing between the shelves and crates, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once.

    The thugs look around in alarm, pointing their guns in every direction as they try to figure out where the laughter is coming from...

Batwoman has posed:
    Batwoman is content to remain in cover until clips are empty and confusion sets in. And then, there's that same, intriguing chuckle, that causes even more disorganisation within the criminals. So when she slips out into the doorway, and levels her rifle at the closest thug - The secondary trigger pulled, and the silver cylinder shooting forth and slamming into his chest, knocking him back agains the truck to fall limp.

    There's a distinct, loud bang as it erupts into smoke and blinding light - Here is to hoping that this vigilante wasn't looking right at it when it went off. Kate follows her shot on foot, twisting in a delicate arch to bring her rifle around a full 360', whipping a thug around the face with the gunmetal and dropping him like a sack of potatos. Her armour allows her no fear of common criminals after all.

Shadow has posed:
    Humans have an instinctive reaction to look toward a source of sudden movement. It's what kept them alive when they were small and furry in a world full of big things wanting to eat them. It is, however, a markedly less useful trait when the quickly moving thing is a flashbang grenade; another cluster of shouts of shock and pain erupt as they stagger away, clutching at their eyes and ears.

    It's not until Batwoman disables her third opponent in ten seconds that any of them recover enough to even begin to attempt resistance.

    Her dance partner appears equally busy; from the corners of her eyes, she notices one thug doubling over from a strike to the stomach just before another's head snaps back and upward as if taking a snap kick to the chin.

    Less than a minute after the grenade goes off, only two people are still standing inside the warehouse -- and only one of them is conventionally visible.

Batwoman has posed:
    And not one shot fired from the Bat - Although her rifle was used a few times to hit some people. No-one dead, but there are going to be a lot of cells occupied with a lot of headaches in the coming hours. "I'm reading no-one else present." Kate mentions aloud, leaping lightly onto the front bumper of the truck, and then vaulting smoothly onto the roof of the cab. A low crouch, as she slowly scans the rest of the room.

    "Are you coming out, stranger? Or am I to be left all alone so soon. It's bad manners to leave a lady waiting." That slight, red smile lingering.

Shadow has posed:
"It's also considered poor form to fire grenades when you don't know where your allies might be," comes the reply as the figure shimmers back into visibility, brushing dust off one arm -- apparently they were only partially in cover when it went off.

    Reaching down, they pick up a goon that - under the dust and dirt smears - does appear to be slightly better dressed than the others and lift them into the air by their collar in one hand. "Permit me to introduce you to Steven Marks, 'Stevie' to his friends, 'Big Steve' to his underlings. He has some answers to share..."

Batwoman has posed:
    "There's nothing wrong with a little bit of flash. And if it stunned you, I'm sure I could have taken care of things all by myself." The Batwoman seems playful enough, that lingering smile failing to fade as she explains herself away easily enough.

    "So, this would be our host for the evening. Would you like some smelling salts?" A tincture is slipped from her belt in true Bat-style, capable of containing any and everything needed. "And we can start the interrogation when you will."

Shadow has posed:
    It's hard to make out expressions when al you can see are a pair of eyes between a hat and a scarf, but something about the figure's body language suggests inscrutability is their stock in trade in any event. They hold out a hand to accept the smelling salts, then crushes the vial under Stevie's nose, still casually holding him suspended in the air with one hand while the vigilanges wait for him to regain his senses.

Batwoman has posed:
    The wait might be a while. The armored woman leans against the sidewall of the truck with a glance over the heavily clothed figure who she has come to work with so coincidentally. "I'd suggest we get a drink while waiting but I'm afraid I hardly know you. So, what's Mister Marks done to vex you so, stranger?" She inquires, still managing to sound quietly bemused at the situation.

Shadow has posed:
    Another chuckle. "Few people do," comes the reply. "Those who do call me the Shadow. As for Mr. Marks here... He's a high-ranking member of a branch of organized crime specializing in what they call 'bespoke smuggling' -- A Fed-Ex for illegal goods, so to speak. I came across their trail some time ago in New York, and managed to make business sufficiently unprofitable for them that Mr. Marks came here to personally oversee and negotiate new transport links in their network running through Gotham instead. You may want to inform your fellow bats to keep alert, incidentally..."

    The Shadow returns their attention to Steven, who appears to be twitching his way back to awareness. "Uhhn.... Wha?" He blinks a few times, looking around to get his bearings while his mind replays the events prior to losing consciousness, and he goes pale as he recognizes the symbol on Kate's chest. "... Oh, /fuck/..."

Batwoman has posed:
    "I'll speak with them soon." Batwoman responds smoothly, "And it's a pleasure to meet you." Of course, the awakening Steven gets second attention, but it's a glare from that cowl that could cause a large number of villains to soil themselves. And unlike the Black of the Bat, hers is that deep, deep Crimson.

    "Allow me to introduce myself, Mister Marks. I am Batwoman. Think of me as a much less kind version of Batman." Her hand flutters to her side, and the rifle is withdrawn again - Extending out suddenly, the very firm gunmetal sticking firmly against his crotch. "This mysterious and somewhat compelling stranger wants some information from you..." And with a rifle to the balls, well...

    "You might remember that my little family has a thing about killing - But I am extremely fond of making scum suffer. So, Mister Marks... Testicles, kneecaps, or answers, hmn?" It's pressed a little more firmly. "Three. Two..."

Shadow has posed:
    Steven swallows audibly, trying to squirm his hips away from the rifle barrel. "Look- I... I can't just..."

    His attempts at explanation are interrupted by the Shadow squeezing his collar just a bit harder to get his attention. "But in truth, Steven... She is /not/ the one you should be afraid of tonight."

    From her angle, Batwoman can't quite see the Shadow's eyes very well, but judging by the way Steven blanches even further, and the way his eyes and head twitch frantically as if he's trying but unable to look away, it can't be anything good.

    "N...Please, you can't, they'll kill me..." he stammers, a hint of pleading in his voice that falls on deaf ears. "There are fates worse than death, Steven. I guarantee it. Now. Who do you work for? Who do you work /with/? Start. Talking..."

Batwoman has posed:
    Kate's content to stand there, with her threat between his legs, and her gaze flitting between interrogator and interrogatee.

Shadow has posed:
    Sweat breaks out on Steven's brow as he tries to think of some way out of his predicament, but in the end his will breaks quickly and he starts stammering out names, addresses and meeting places, trembling all the while. The Shadow listens impassively without letting go.

    Finally, the flow of moaned answers slows to a trickle, and then stops. "Very good, Stevie. Now you're going to wait here until the cops arrive, and when they do you'll turn yourself in, and if any of them are the ones you bribed to ignore you, let them know I will be seeing them... Soon."

    Steven goes even paler, something Batwoman hadn't thought possible. "... I can't! They don't report to me, they report to someone else, if they find out I talked I'll never make it to the station alive!"

    He turns a pleading look to Batwoman. "Please, you're a Bat, the bats don't let people die, ya gotta protect me..."

Batwoman has posed:
    Kate's rifle collapses again, and it's attached to her thigh, before she looks at the stranger. "Well. I suppose you'd best be on your way. I might hang around until the police make their appearance, just make sure that Mister Marks makes his way safely into police custody." The Batwoman sighs softly, "Much as I'm sure we could have some more fun tonight, he does have a point."

    The armored woman places a hand on her hip, her red lips in a delicate pout. "But don't be a stranger. Some might not enjoy the competition, and I personally could care less for the assistance, but truth be told I'm starved for professional company."

Shadow has posed:
    The Shadow opens their hand, letting Steven drop to the ground. "And I have more work to do tonight, more's the pity," comes the answer. "Rest assured I have no intention of encroaching on the Bats' turf. But I won't stop pursuing a lead just because it fled to Gotham, either..."

    The Shadow walks off, dusting their hands. "It was... Interesting to meet you, Batwoman. Perhaps we'll meet again sometime."

Batwoman has posed:
    "Our work is never done. And yet even with our reputations, they still continue to misbehave." Kate tuts softly, shaking her head in disappointment as she begins to walk out of the building. "I don't suppose you have a phone number. If his friends turn up, you might want to have a discussion with them before the police do."

Shadow has posed:
"Perhaps you could light a signal flare in the shape of a shadow when you need me," comes the chuckling response -- and even as the laughter echoes between the walls, the Shadow seems to fade from view, vanishing into the darkness and the shadows cast by streetlights...