7722/Goin Cold Turkey

Goin Cold Turkey
Date of Scene:	03 June 2019
Location:	Unknown
Synopsis:	Summary needed
Cast of Characters:	Amarok, Elektra

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Amarok has posed:
After weeks of hitting smaller ops, frustrating the local gangs, crews, orginizations, and clans of criminals preying on Gotham's lower class, the moon was finaly right. A series of messages claiming a desire for a sit down to discuss what to do about the recent troubles with distribution went out, calling all the top brass of the local branches together for a parley. Unbeknownst to them, the messages were all forged by Amarok, a trap for an army. One last message was sent, left for Elektra to find, simply listing the address of a warehouse in Gotham's harbor, signed with an insignia in the shape of a wolf's head.

Elektra has posed:
The message, when received, leaves Elektra grimly amused. Amused only in that she recognizes it for what it it, and anticipates the reaction to the lesson about to be delivered. Grim in the necessity of such a lesson needing to be delivered.

It had come later than she'd expected - in fact, she hadn't been certain that she would heard from the man again - but when it came, Elektra wasn't displeased.

On the date and time in question, disguised in her street hunting outfit, and equiped with her usual weapons, Elektra makes her way to the meeting spot, finding herself an out of the way perch to observe before engaging.

Amarok has posed:
The groups begin arriving, one after another after another after another, with no sign of Amarok in sight. Eventually, the last group arrives, and there must be a hundred goons about, with a good dozen bosses gathered around a makeshift table, all arguing about who called who in for what. After about fifteen minutes of this, the lights suddenly go out, causing a wave of outrage and obscenities to echo out from the mob. And then, a voice, crackling in over the warehouse loudspeakers, "Thank you all for coming. It's so much easier this way. No need to hunt you down one by one. Tonight, you serve the grandest purpose of your lives. To be the ink for my message." The voice halts and suddenly opera music begins blaring out of the speakers at a deafening decibel. And that's when the first explosion goes off, small, but enough to topple one of the industrial shelves onto the group, sparking a wave of panic amongst them.

Elektra has posed:
it's rather a large number, and a much grander scale than she'd expected of Amarok - but then again, he didn't really strike her as the sort to do things by half measures, and 100 wasn't unworkable. Certainly not with two of them. Certainly not in an enclosed and pre-prepared space...

Almost as if on cue, the lights go out, a thing that puts their 'guests' at a disadvantage, but not herself. She'd trained in such. Even the explosion doesn't phase her, though it does hold Elektra to her position for the time being - there was no sense in entering thr fray while the panic was fresh, or while his 'entertainment' was still in the first blossoming throes.

Elektra fully expected to be picking of the last remaining stalwarts when Amarok's message had been delivered. AFter those who could run had run. There were always a few who felt they had words to say, or things to prove. Those who felt they were invincible.

Those were the ones Elektra wished to have a 'conversation' with.

Amarok has posed:
After the crushing and the cowards fleeing, less than half remain, with one of the bosses screaming about his crushed leg. And then, the next flash, a simple pellet to further disorient the group, Amarok's arrival being illuminated in that brief blink of light as if he had simply appeared in their midst like a ghost. And so, the fight begins in full, the few still brave or stupid enough to remain swinging wildly in the darkness, hitting each other as often as nothing at all.

Elektra has posed:
Again, Elektra makes no move to interfere or join in the fray. The cowards are encouraged to leave by the explosion and the pellet - and the point is for them to carry back tales. The one's left won't, even if they do eventually crawl away. It's the weaker members counted on to carry the fear to the masses, even if the leaders are the ones with the authority to call a full stop to actions.

This? This is business as usual when sending a message.

The woman continues to bide her time, to allow things to play out and to see where they will lead to, but also out of curiousity for this Amarok. To measure the mettle of the man, and learn his limits. See where they meshed with her own.

She wasn't Daredevil, but there were still things she wouldn't do. Not that she expected this would be a scenario where she'd have to step in on the side of those who had been called to the gathering.

Her lips curl in amusement as the remaining - most untrained in situations of this sort - strike out, and invariably encounter one another, self culling the crowd. It was, she had to admit, a small stroke of some genius. One she couldn't fault.

Amarok has posed:
Amarok seems unphased by...well, anything about his situation. Elektra not joining in, being grossly outnumbered, the dark, the screaming, the occasional bullet one of the masses gets off before he reaches and deals with them. Quick and brutal strokes, snapping bones, bursting ear drums, concussing heads, knifing knees. He is a whirlwind of violence, and in scarcely a minute, the last of the bosses is batting weakly at his arm, held out choking him as Amarok slowly turns his gaze up to Elektra, his cold blue LED eyes meeting her gaze.

Elektra has posed:
It isn't unexpected, this whirlwind of violence, or the fact of her being superfluous - though, in truth, she could have entered the fray at any point. She's impassive as she watches the violence unfold, and ultimately, the light of life in the eyes of the last of the bosses fade away, the blue of her own eyes betraying no emotion as they meet Amarok's own. Something of the faintest of shrugs given, the woman finally stepping out of the shadows to be visible, and moving down to join him. Silent, still, for the moment.

Amarok has posed:
As conciousness finaly flees the man, Amarok's gaze snaps back to him, tilting his head slightly before simply shoving him down onto the pile. Amarok then turns and begins walking towards the door, "Watch them. Make sure they dont move." He stops at the door and glances back, "...Dont kill them. I still have a use for them." He says before opening it and stalking out into the night. A few moments later, the main door of the warehouse opens, a small shipping truck backing up to the door...very...very...slowly. Once it finally gets to the doorway, Amarok emerges from it and walks back over, not sparing Elektra a word as he begins hefting up the bosses and loading them into the container in the back.

Elektra has posed:
Thankfully, Elektra is still amused, as she's not quite used to taking orders from another, and while this might be his 'show' it still goes beyond her usual nature to merely obey. However, their goal still remains the same, and she'd admit a curiousity as to what his 'use' may yet be.

When things become clearer, and Amarok starts loading the bosses unconsious, beaten, bruised, and clinging to life bodies into the container, there is another of those considered shrugs, this time something of approval, if not understanding. Again, it is a decision she finds no reason to interfere with. It's a fitting enough fate for those who ply their trade in human cargo.

Amarok has posed:
After a few minutes of loading and securing the bosses, Amarok hefts in a great deal of industrial chain, without explanation of course, and stops next to the truck, ".....Do you know how to drive?...If not, I suppose I'll have to make do..." Well....That's rather embarassing, iddn't?

Elektra has posed:
It's a wordless Elektra who merely turns and leaves, as silently and as unnoticed as she'd arrived. There are still some of those who had straggled leaving who need encouragement to return from whence they came and carry their tales back home, so to speak. She's no desire to know what Amarok intends, and no doubt that this will be the last time they meet on the same side of this fence - next time will by an annonymous call to authorities. Pulling a favour from contacts she'd rather not have to draw attention to.

This once, though, she'll turn a blind and unquestioning eye, knowing full well were she to stop and ask, or even witness, she'd have to step in. Just this once letting the well of darkness from her past rise up and eat her reservations. Giving the little girl she once was a voice against the pain she'd held back all these years.

Just this once.