5445/Past meets present

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Past meets present
Date of Scene: 26 September 2018
Location: The Narrows, Gotham
Synopsis: Batman and The Shadow meet. A surprising amount of gunfire is involved.
Cast of Characters: Shadow, Batman




Shadow has posed:
    Gotham nights are rarely boring; there's almost always /something/ going on that requires the Dark Knight's attention. Right at the moment, however, things are almost worryingly quiet, which means that the Batcomputer has linked into the police scanner to automatically filter for keywords while Batman drives a more or less randomized patrol route while his mind ponders other things, other cases.

    His reverie is interrupted when the Batcomputer flags a call from an officer in the Narrows calling for backup. The address is a warehouse in the Narrows district - always something of a hotbed for criminal activity - but what caused the Batcomputer to flag this one was that the officer describes hearing "Gunfire and laughter".

    Playing back the entire call it's almost possible to hear the 'oh, shit' in Dispatch's silence, and a SWAT team is being notified, but the minimum ETA is ten minutes -- and the Batmobile can make it there in two.

Batman has posed:
    The Batmobile is no GCPD-issue squad car, and the on-board computer quickly singles out the quickest route to the warehouse in question. The Car itself is programmed to drive itself in all but the most trying situations, although Batman nevertheless keeps his hands on the wheel. The Batcomputer searches the surrounding area for CCTV cameras but comes up with nothing nearby or with a suitable view. It figures, he thinks, as nothing in the Narrow relishes beig captured on camera. Like so many cockroaches, they scatter in the cold light of day.
    It doesn't take long for the Car to arrive, and even as it is still rolling the pilot's compartment hisses open and the Batman climbs out. His boots silently touch the pavement as the car is skidding to a halt, his grappling gun propelling him upwards until he lands on the building's rooftop. Once there, he moves to a skylight to observe. It'll only take a moment to get the lay of the land, and even a moment is more than he's willing to allow the Maniac if he's back in Gotham ...

Shadow has posed:
    Conveniently enough, one of the skylights is already open, providing a perfectly convenient drop onto an upper level catwalk. Almost suspiciously convenient, perhaps. On the other hand, while he can clearly hear the laughter coming from inside, anyone with personal experience with the Joker will realize that this isn't the Clown Prince of Crime. Laughter, yes. Disturbing, definitely... But where the Joker's laughter is the high-pitched manic cackle of a maniac gleefully considering all the horrors he's about to inflict, this laughter substitutes the mad glee for pure menace, a hunter aiming to paralyze his prey with fear before moving in for the kill...

    Not that Batman has much /time/ to contemplate the distinctions as gunfire ricochets off the metal catwalk near him. A lack of follow-up and a quick glance down shows that it was almost certainly blind fire from one of the still living men currently on the warehouse floor, looking around themselves almost frantically and firing at anything that moves or sounds like it might be the source of the laughter...

Batman has posed:
    The Bat doesn't move when the bullet ricochets. In his experience, you don't hear the bullets that hit you. He remains still, moving back from the railing and into the darkness to keep himself concealed. He feels a slight touch of relief when his worst assumption proves incorrect. It isn't often that he's wrong, and even less often that he enjoys the experience. The invisibility and the laughter perplex him, though, and the situation is a dangerous one he'll need to impose himself onto very soon.
    The eyepieces of his cowl switch to thermographic vision, plying the darkness for any heat signatures. Few can hide from him in the dark, as used to it as he is, but whatever the source of the menacing laughter is manages just that. From his belt he fetches a stun grenade, intent on making quick work of the apex threat here ... and it's not the wild-firing gunman.

Shadow has posed:
    Thermographic imaging reveals a grim picture, as at least two of the unmoving bodies are already starting to cool - although the others show the by-now-familiar patterns of unconsciousness. More immediately worrying is that there don't seem to be any heat sources unaccounted for that might be the source of the laughter... Until the heat signature of one of the still standing gunmen is suddenly occluded as if something moved to block it -- and a moment later, an arm blurs into existence apparently from nowhere, seizing him by the collar and throwing him bodily into one of the others, sending both to the ground in a heap.

    By the time the final gunman turns to see the noise, the arm has already vanished and the wild burst he fires spatters off the far wall...

Batman has posed:
    The gunman is slow, but the Bat is swift. His body trained to act before thinking in some cases, employing reflexes honed like a steel trap. As the hand appears in the air, he knows there is no time to reach for a batarang, produce, and throw it. But he does hold something in his hand - a stun grenade. As the hand appears, he flings the device at it with cunning accuracy. It is less of a sure thing than a batarang, being of a different weight and size than he's ideally suited to in such situations, but he's nevertheless got an arm on him that would put a Major League pitcher to shame.
    Even before he knows if he's hit or not he moves towards the last location he spotted the figure. The final gunman is left to his own devices for now. The grim calculus in the Bat's head reasoning that as long as the man remains standing he's a distraction and, better yet, bait.

Shadow has posed:
    The cowl's lenses and audio covering automatically compensate for the flashbang, allowing Batman to keep studying the scene while the grenade goes off.

    The hapless gunman, already in that state of hyper-awareness brought on by panic, notices the grenade's clatter and winds up looking directly at it as it goes off almost right in front of his face -- chances are he'll have some permanent vision loss, even with medical treatment.

    Much more interestingly, at the moment of detonation the flare lights up the interior bright as day, painting the walls with shadows -- including /two/ humanoid ones, where there's only one person visibly standing on the ground. The flash doesn't last long to get a good view, but the contours suggest a tall, broad figure, possibly wearing a greatcoat or a cape as well as a wide-brim hat... But at least the laughter has cut off with a curse of surprise and and at least some pain.

Batman has posed:
    If there were anything about Batman that prompted smiling, this moment may be it. Perhaps he's aware of the collateral damage he's caused. Perhaps not. If he is, he may even feel guilty about it - one more thing at the end of a very, very long list of regrets. But his mind is singularly focused, and it is easy to put anything that does not benefit him in the moment away to examine later. Guilt can wait and so too can the disoriented gunman.
    The end of the laughter and the curse are enough to teach him he's got whatever it is on the back foot. This time he fetches from his utility belt a small pen-sized flashlight, casting a beam from the white LED into the darkened space. Seeking out whatever it is. Seeking out the elusive Shadow. He doesn't speak. Doesn't call out to make deals or learn motives. He moves with the single-minded purpose of a predator.

Shadow has posed:
    At first the sweeping beam shows nothing out of the ordinary... Until it passes through what for all the world looks like so much more empty space, but the light on the wall casts a shadow of that same figure seen earlier. Its body language suggests a moment of surprise before the figure darts off like a cartoon figure running off-screen...

Batman has posed:
    Batman moves quickly after the Shadow, attempting to keep the flashlight beam trained on it once he has an idea of where it is. His marksmanship is impeccable, and even on the move he holds his hand steady enough that the beam jumps and strafes only slightly. The dead bodies are enough to set his mind against whatever this figure is. Whether this disembodied shadow is responsible for the deaths or merely taking advantage of the distraction is something he'll work out later.
    "Alfred," he speaks over sub-vocal comms, "tell the GCPD to keep their distance. One gunman still active. High state of alarm but looks like semi-permanent retinal trauma. Won't be going anywhere."
    The Butler's voice follows up, asking just what invisible creature the Bat is chasing, but receives no reply. Once more, the Dark Knight fetches something from his utility belt. This time it's a simple, weighted bolos. He twirls it for a moment over his head, letting it pick up speed before he lets it fly at where he assumes the invisible man's legs may be. He's relying on more luck than he'd like at this point, but this is the first shadow-person he's had to contend with.

Shadow has posed:
    The gunman had dropped his gun to clutch at his eyes after the flash, and has staggered well away from where it landed; he'll have some trouble locating it even if he recovers enough of his wits to think about it.

    The Shadow, on the other hand, is maddeningly elusive. The fact that he only has a projection on the wall to look at is bad enough, but it quickly becomes clear that his quarry has had at least /some/ training in stealth and evasion tactics -- and the downside of a narrow-beam flashlight is that it isn't hard to backtrack and figure out line-of-sight.

    The figure throws out an arm, and there is the almost familiar sound of a grapple gun firing -- and just for a moment there's a stack of crates in the way... And no way of telling which direction the figure went.

Batman has posed:
    The bolas clatter uselessly across the ground, and the Batman frowns. He pauses for a moment as he stares at the stack of crates. The light flashes this way and that, but he's unable to capture any sign of the Shadow again. Another man may curse or stomp or throw the crates aside in a rage - the Dark Knight merely picks up the bolas and returns them to his belt, turning back towards the blinded gunman. After a moment he looms silently behind the blinded man, lifting a hand to firmly - but painlessly - grab the man's wrist to keep him from lashing out.
    "Keep your eyes shut," he speaks, adopting the low baritone that is both unnerving and somehow reassuring all at once, "I'm applying a dressing."
    Whatever the gunman did the Bat doesn't know. At least not yet. But the injury is his fault, and somewhere deep down he knows he caused it because of an overriding desire to find the invisible attacker. He thought of solving the case before he thought of someone's safety. It happens, he knows, but it's wrong. That's not why he does this. It can't be. The thrill of the chase is secondary. It's all a mantra he's repeated to himself hundreds of thousands of times over the years. But slowly - very, very slowly - he has begun to wonder if he truly believes it.

Shadow has posed:
    ... Now that he's had a little more time to survey the scene, the white powder pouring out of one of the crates that had caught a few stray bullets suggest what whatever was going on here wasn't exactly legal to begin with -- then again, most legitimate operations in a warehouse don't go armed with automatic weapons or happen this late at night.

    The man is still breathing rapidly, a combination of shock and terror, but he's entirely too far out of it to resist as the compress is applied to his eyes.

    "... Mercy even for the scum of the earth?" comes that same voice, now devoid of laughter - but still echoing, as if the source is moving from one point to another, now from a corner, from above, from further down that lane of storage cubicles. "Your reputation does you a disservice, Dark Knight."

    The voice is... Too sinister to be human, although still within the range for a high-quality voice scrambler.

Batman has posed:
    The Batman does not seem to react to the voice at first, and his inaction may suggest that he didn't even hear it. He takes a moment to direct the blinded man to a crate, eyes now heavily bandaged, and sits him down upon it. In a fluid motion he snaps handcuffs about his wrists and leaves him there. Whatever mercy he might have shown, he's still leaving the man for the GCPD and whatever drawn-out legal process awaits him. It is only then that the Dark Knight speaks, his voice at its normal volume. He doesn't shout or direct his conversation anywhere - he presumes if the Shadow can throw it's voice so readily, it can hear him well enough.
    "You don't belong here," he begins, his tone flat and matter-of-fact, "Judging by the corpses you've left behind, you may know me but you don't know well enough - yet - how things work in Gotham. Gotham belongs to me."
    He moves over to look at one of the broken crates, stirring the contents slightly with the toe of his boot and frowning.
    "I am Gotham. You ... are a ghost. A shadow. Maybe you're high on your victory here, but you've seen what I can do with a /penlight/. If you persist in this, I will bring everything I have to bear against you. I will burn away every inch of darkness until there's nothing left to hide you. Then you can talk about how merciful I am."

Shadow has posed:
    "... Not /A/ Shadow, Dark Knight." Footsteps that don't echo are his first clue, and as he looks up he sees a figure approach, shadows coalescing into solid form.

    Tall, but something in the figure's bearing suggests to Batman's experienced eye that they are deliberately making themselves seem taller than they are. And it wasn't a greatcoat /or/ a cloak -- it's a combination of both wrapping and billowing around the figure, concealing its shape almost completely. Blue eyes blaze down from underneath the hat he'd noticed early, and a carmine scarf conceals the rest of their face.

    "... And you'll find none of the corpses here are of my doing, except perhaps indirectly." The figure gestures, letting their coat open enough to show the heavy pistol harness worn underneath. "I aim to wound. The two fatalities got caught in their own crossfire."

    Blue eyes narrow at the threat before the figure lets out a sinister chuckle."I am not your enemy, Dark Knight. I wouldn't have come to Gotham in the first place if these lowlifes' smuggling operation hadn't led me here. Or do you make a habit of letting a pursuit go the moment your quarry crosses city limits?"

Batman has posed:
    "Ying Ko, I presume," the Bat says as he watches the Shadow appear, remaining silent. As usualy, the questions pass by without any sort of answer from him. One of the Dark Knight's more infuriating traits that even his staunchest allies have trouble coming to terms with. He draws the conclusions in his mind. If he's wrong it is, at best, a strange nickname with no meaning. If not, he may strike a nerve."
    He turns around to fully face the cloaked figure, "If you're not my enemy, then you'll prove it by letting all of this become /my/ concern. You may aim to wound, but whatever your aims were here tonight left these men dead. That's carelessness. I'd have thought someone over a hundred yars old would have learned how to keep that at a minimum."

Shadow has posed:
    There is a pause from the figure, although whether it's surprise or confusion is hard to read with so little of their body or face visible... But then the figure starts laughing, a sound that draws an involuntary terrified whimper from the blinded gunman.

    "Very well. These scum were using former assets of Lightray Shipping as cover for their drug operation. Those assets are gone already; I've been cleaning up the rest of the trail." A gesture takes in the still leaking box. "This was destined for local dealers. Your newest friend may be able to tell you more about that when he's more coherent."

    The Shadow turns, already blurring into invisibility as they walk away. "Until we meet again, Dark Knight. I'm fairly certain we will."

Batman has posed:
    "You can count on it," Batman replies, and for the first time at all his mouth moves from something other than the grim, frowning line that it is when he's not speaking. One side lilts upwards into a smirk. Whatever meaning behind it is thoroughly lost beneath the implacability of his cowl.
    Even as the Shadow disappears, the Dark Knight is turning to make his own exit. The distance sirens herald the arrival of police back-up and the blinded gunman will have many opportunities to talk in the local lock-up.
    It wouldn't be the first time he'd paid it a visit.

Shadow has posed:
    As first meetings go, that probably could have gone better. On the other hand, several hundred pounds of hard drugs not ending up on the streets of Gotham is a win by anyone's standards. And at least now Batman has a... Sort of face... to go with the name. Perhaps it'll provide more leads.

    But when all's said and done... Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?