Owner	Pose
Vic Sage	The Narrows isn't the nice part of Gotham. Crime rate is high, if not the highest in all of Gotham. Still, where would you expect to find on of the nocturnal vigilantism persuasion except in the worst part of town? The Question crouches on a rooftop, overlooking one of the seedier bars across the street, his faceless visage focused on the building's front as if he is expecting someone to walk out the doors at any moment. He is dressed slightly more casual that his normal attire. Instead of a suit, trench coat, and fedora, tonight he wears a pair of dark jeans and black turtleneck sweater, with a pair of leather gloves on his hands.
Helena Bertinelli	The footsteps on the roof behind him are light, the hum of the high-tension line being reeled in soft. Huntress sticks the landing, crouching down as she slinks closer. "S'up, Q? You really should stick to one costume, y'know. I almost put a bolt in your kidney." It's been a while since he's last seen her, but here she is. Crouching beside him in a fresh costume, albeit similar in design. Without turning to look at him, she watches the scene down below. "Good to see you again. Still waiting to grow a face?"
Vic Sage	"You have to keep them questioning." the faceless one says in retort, turning his head ever so slightly as Helena makes her way up to his side. As he speaks, the tone that emerges from under the mask indicates a smile on his hidden face. "But i'm glad that I don't find myself with any new piercings tonight. At least Richard toned down the 'shoot first ask questions later' vibe." The last sentence bares the cadence that it would be accompanied by a wink. "I was wondering when I would run into you, Huntress." The blank visage turns back toward the bar front, "You know me, I like a close shave. How are you?"
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress chuckles at that, purple lips drawn back into a wry smile. "Richard mostly just taught me how to make tea." she quips back. And from the way she carries herself it's not completely true, either. "And I'm suddenly reminded why I wax instead. I'm doing well, Q. Not planning on shooting anyone tonight, but the night is still young." Shifting her attention forward again, she asks. "Any movement down below, or is everything still quiet?"
Vic Sage	"He does make a damn fine tea." says Vic with a chuckle, "The tea almost made some of those stretches worth it. Almost." The Question continues to keep his face turned towards the bar front as he speaks, but there is a slight tilt of his head to show focus on Helena as he speaks, a hint of humor in his voice. "To each their own. Waxing is just too painful. Delicate skin., it might give me a rash." "It's quiet, and that makes me wonder what is going on. Normally, a place like that would be loud, there would be the sounds of glass breaking and at least one argument. The hookers aren't even standing out front. It is being avoided."
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress nods slowly to that, quietly detaching the crossbow from her wrist. The grappel is replaced with something more pointy and more deadly, and she cocks it in a smooth motion. "That -had- occurred to me as well, yes." Glancing over at him, then, she replies. "Sensitive skin, hmm?" She almost reaches out to touch his 'face', fingers curling back even before the hand starts to extend. "Maybe the hookers have the night off or something? Unlikely, but it's a possibility."
Vic Sage	"Have you ever known hookers to take a night off?" asks The Question as he stands up from his crouch. "I've seen them trying to get a trick done even in the dead of winter. You would think you would at least see one. It is a possibility, but I don't think so, H. I don't know what's going on down there, but I think I am of a mind to go find out." He glances down to Huntress and offers over a gloved hand. "Care to join me?"
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress's smile is almost coy, gloved and armored fingers slipping into his own. She would bat her lashes, except the lenses over the mask would hide the effect anyway. "You sure do know how to show a girl a good time, Q." she replies. "But I always split the check on the first date, just so you know." Glancing down at the weapon in her other hand, she double-checks that it's cocked and flips the safety off.
Vic Sage	The Question chuckles, "Dutch it is. Far be it for me to argue with women's lib. After all, I know Shiva." He tips his hat to the Huntress then vaults over the side of the building, using the fire escape to slow his decent by grabbing the railing floor after floor until he lands quietly on the ground. He pauses in a crouch, waiting in the shadows for a moment before he starts slowly walking towards the bar entrance, looking like he plans on strolling right though the front door.
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress's immediate reply to that is to deny any comparison to Shiva, but before she gets out the words he is on the fire escape. Her descent follows his example, using the railing to control her fall. Crouching beside him, she hisses "I'm not Shiva." When he starts towards the bar entrance she grabs his shoulder. "Give me 5 minutes to force the back door. Just in case anyone gets cold feet." And with that, she starts working her way around the side of the building, keeping to the shadows.
Vic Sage	"I know you're not. You've never kicked my ass." Question says, a grin unmistakable in his tone. "It wasn't a comparison in any case, just a commentary on the strength of women...and never to underestimate them." When she asks for the 5 minutes, he pauses and nods, checking his watch and waiting for the allotted time to pass before he continues, muttering to himself. "Note to self, we should get comms. Make coordination easier." Once the five minutes are up, Questions strolls towards the door and opens it, walking in as if nothing more than a normal patron of the establishment.
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress smirks at the 'not kicking my ass' remark, and then she is gone. Around the building and through the alley, she finds the back door and forces it. Quietly. The shadowed woman slips into the back, making her way into the kitchen. "I really need to get Q hooked up with a comm frequency." she mutters to herself. Raising a gloved finger to her lips when the cook spots her, she makes a 'shush' motion and holds up the crossbow with a small smile. Time to find the main room.
Vic Sage	The Question strolls in, hands in his pockets and looks around the main room of the bar. It's nearly empty, the usual crowds of hooligans and miscreants not present this evening, but in place of the typical riffraff are a group of 8 well dressed gentlemen in nice suits, 7 of them sitting around the 8th who is at the head of the shoved together tables. The Question nonchalantly makes his way to the bar, placing his hands on the bar top and casually asks for a beer. The bartender turns to face Vic, "Look buddy, the bar is closed. I think you..." The bartender stops and stares at Vic for a moment, "You ain't got a face."
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress stays in the kitchen, at least for the moment. Not that a guy without a face isn't suspicious, but a masked vigilante with a crossbow is definitely -not- going to be well-received. Giving the cook another look, she murmurs softly. "Don't move and don't touch anything." And then she turns her full attention on the bartender.
Vic Sage	The cook backs away from the stove, totally ignoring the don't move aspect of Helena's command, and puts his hands in the air with a look of utter fear on his face. Vic mutters "Close shave." to the bartender, and rolls one shoulder in a shrug. "I'll take a bottle of whiskey if you don't have a beer handy." The bartender stares at Question for a moment more, and slowly reaches under the bar, producing a glass bottle of amber liquid. "Yeah...sure. Whatever you say, pal." The goons start to take notice of the happenings at the bar, the man at the head of the table speaking up, "Lou, I told you to close this place down. I don't know who you are, mister, but you got till the count of 3 to get the hell out of here. Boys..." The 7 men sitting around the table start to stand, hands reaching into their coats.
Helena Bertinelli	The kitchen door opens and an angry-looking brunette steps out, crossbow aimed. <THOK!> The first one out of his seat takes a crossbow bolt to his gun-arm, right in the shoulder joint. Forget about pulling the gun for now; he'll do well to be able to raise his arm over his head after 6 months of physical therapy. "Just sit down, gentlemen." Huntress hisses. The crossbow is already reloaded, the woman looking for another target. "Bartender, I believe the man asked for a whiskey."
Vic Sage	The bartender sets the bottle of whiskey onto the countertop, then ducks down behind it "I ain't part of this! Leave me alone!" The goon with the crossbow bolt in his arm howls in pain, his left hand moving up to his shoulder to clutch at it, right arm hanging loosely to his side. The other six men pause, their hands in their jackets as they look from Huntress to Question, then to their boss. The boss growls, eyes narrowing. "What are you waiting for you idiots?! There are only two of them! Kill them!" The Question lets out a sigh, his hand moving to the bottle of whiskey, gripping it by the neck and hurling it at the closest goons head.
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress rolls here eyes beneath the mask at the order as well. She vaults over the bar, casually shooting the -boss- in the shoulder while in mid-air. She rolls with the landing, coming up VERY close to the table. The crossbow is changed out for a white baton. As guns are drawn, the baton springs out into a proper quarterstaff. A whistling swing knocks a gun to the floor, smacking a second goon in the temple with the recovery. "See? This is why we can never go anywhere nice."
Vic Sage	The whiskey bottle hits the goon square in the head, knocking him to the floor where he falls limp, but before the bottle even hits, The Question is is motion. He rolls forward, launching a palm strike into one of the mens crotch, while sweeping the leg of another. "Nice? I thought this was the kind of place you liked, Huntress? You know, full of unique decor, smelling of stale beer and cheap cigars, and meatheads to pummel into submission. Tell you what, next time you can pick the place." The Question launches a kick into the face of the one he knocked over before springing to his feet, blocking the punch of another goon by punching the goon's elbow mid strike, a sickening crunch is heard as the goon screams in pain. "Next time, I will even wear a suit, and maybe bring some wine. Red is your color, right?"
Helena Bertinelli	The staff whistles again, breaking a wrist and causing another gun to drop. "Must have me confused with one of your other girlfriends, Q." she quips back. With the staff she has the advantage of distance, and she uses it well. One of the goons manages to get to his feet, until the staff catches him behind the knees and dumps him onto his ass. A crack across the temple puts him out. A quick look around the room, and Huntress does a mental head-count. Or body-count, in this case. The boss is pinned to his chair by the crossbow bolt, and to make matters worse he can't reach his gun. "Don't go away, now. Be right with you." she quips.
Vic Sage	"Hardly..." says Question as he uses one of the downed goons guts as a springboard, launching over the table at one on the other side who manages to get a shot off. The bullet whizzes by Question as the faceless one drives his feet into the goon's chest. "It's not like I date much. Most women find me horribly disfigured." Six down, one to go. Vic just stands there, hands at his sides as he looks to the last goon and shrugs a shoulder, "You might want to leave before the lady gets upset." He glances over at Huntress, "But I think you might be too late." The goon snarls and lifts his gun to shoot at Q.
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress doesn't hesitate as the goon lifts his gun. She hurls the staff like a spear at him. While she could've aimed for the pit of his stomach or even for the gun itself, the staff catch the guy right in throat. Nothing is broken. Probably. But he drops the gun and focuses his attention on getting air into his lungs. Striding over, Huntress knees him in the stomach and picks up her staff. "Can't fight if you can't breathe." she declares. With a casual twirl of the staff, she turns her attention towards the boss. Then she glances back at Q. "Did you have any questions before I start?"
Vic Sage	The Question turns to Huntress, the blank face cocking to the left slightly in a gesture that lends itself to 'Did you really just ask that?' interpretation. A low chortle escapes the throat of the faceless vigilante as he moves towards the boss, hopping up onto the table to squat in front of the man. "Does that hurt?" he asks the boss. "That looks like it hurts. Good news for you, though. Look like it didn't hit anything major. You should be able to get full use of that arm back if you get medical attention in the near future." The boss just glares at The Question, his lips pulled back in a snarl. "I ain't telling you nothing!" The Question risks, "Double negative. But your statement is never the less true, since I can assure you, you will be telling us something." He reaches out and flicks the shaft of the bolt, letting it twang and causing the boss to grunt in pain. "If not to me, then to the lady. And I can assure you, she is much less gentle than I am."
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress smirks at the rhetorical question, giving the downed goons a final once-over. There's movement, a groan, then another <WHACK!> as the staff hits bone. "Hmm? Were you talking about me?" she asks, stepping up closer. "Nice, cozy little meeting you have here. Or did we just happen to barge in on Bridge night?" she asks. The staff is cradled casually into the crook of her elbow, and she keeps her attention focused on the downed goons for the moment.
Vic Sage	The boss grimaces, wincing at the pain caused by the tweak of the bolt in his shoulder. "What do you want?! We were just doing some business. What business of that is yours?!" The Question hrms, reaching into his pocket and producing a slip of paper, "It becomes my business when I find your name pop up in relation to a series of hijacking jobs. I thought that was old school, Tony? I mean, selling goods from the back of a truck? That is so 1920's." He looks over to Huntress, "Did you know they still do that? I didn't."
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress shrugs at the question. "Seriously? You're kidding, right? Why not use newsies as your distribution network while you're at it?" The goons don't look to be getting up anytime soon, but she uses the staff like a shuffleboard stick to push all the guns together into a pile all the same. "You play golf, Tony? I'll bet you do. Something all you bosses do. Ever see what effect a knee replacement has on your handicap? Sort of gives new meaning to the word."
Vic Sage	"I know, right?" The Question says to Huntress, before turning back to Tony, "...and using Craigslist for your scheming is not as anonymous or secure as you might think. All it takes is a few keystrokes to track down the IP of the sender...and, well...I think you can figure out the rest." The Question says as he motions to the goons all over the floor. Tony snarls, showing his teeth as he does. "Go to hell. You got nothing that will stick. I'll be out before the ink even dries on the report they have to file."
Helena Bertinelli	<CRACK!> The staff whistles again, the force of the blow jerking Tony's head to one side. His cheek is starting to swell when Huntress replies. "See? That's your second wrong assumption of the day. The police aren't going to be involved in this." Huntress steps closer, looming. "It's just you, me, and him. The first wrong assumption was that you brought enough boys to handle any trouble. How's your dental plan, by the way?"
Vic Sage	Tony groans, turning his head to look at the Huntress, then spitting a glob of blood, and a tooth, at her. "Fuck you." The Question sighs, shaking his head. "That was not the best answer, Tony. Not even by a long shot. I'd suggest that you give us something if you want to keep any of your teeth intact. You do value your teeth, don't you?"
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress draws a deep breath, exhaling softly. "I'll give you two minutes, Q. I should check on the staff to make sure no one has any stupid ideas." She glances over, and sees that the bartender is still there, at least. "When I return it's up to you how -extensive- Tony's facial reconstruction is going to be." Turning abruptly, the long coat whirls as she heads for the kitchen with the staff under her arm.
Vic Sage	The Question glances between Tony and Huntress, "You heard her, Tony. I'd listen if I were you." He leans in closer to Tony and whispers, "Just between you and me, I think she has some anger issues." "Tony snarls, taking the moment to spit another wad of blood at The Question. "I ain't telling you squat. If I talk, i'm dead. I can take a beating." The Question sighs, wiping the blood from his shirt with a gloved hand, but only manages to smear it. "That's not the right answer, Tony. Not even close. So let me let you in on a little secret...Huntress there, she doesn't like you. Me, i'm ambivalent. Would you rather talk to me, or someone who is looking for a reason to pummel you?" Tony's eyes shift from Question to where Huntress left then back, sweat forms on his forehead, but he clamps his mouth shut, shaking his head.
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress has a short conversation with the bartender, then disappears with him into the kitchen to find the frightened cook. Exactly one minute, forty-five seconds later she emerges from the kitchen. Alone. The two are tied back to back and unharmed, of course, but it's not like Tony knows that. "All finished, Q?" she asks. The staff is put away, and her stride is light as she stalks over towards Tony. From somewhere beneath her coat she pulls out a long throwing knife.
Vic Sage	The Question glances between Tony and Huntress and sighs. He stands from the squatting position in front of Tony and rolls his shoulder in a shrug. "I gave you a chance, Tony. I wish you would have taken it." He hops off the table, moving to the side to let the Huntress have access. Tony goes pale, his eyes widen as he sees the knife and the sweat from his brow starts to fall in little rivulets down his face. His voice no longer carries any confidence, and he shakily says "Y..y.you aren't going to do anything. You're one of the good guys! You can't!"
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress clucks her tongue, flipping the knife into the air and catching it by the blade. "Wrong assumption number three for the night, Tony. HE is one of the good guys." she points to Question, then. "Me? I'm just a woman who's got major anger issues with the mob." Crouching down close, she gazes into his eyes, lenses covering her own baby-blues. Taking a hold of the bolt that's nailed his shoulder to the chair, she twists it. Slowly. "Do let me know if you can think of something to say, Tony."
Vic Sage	Tony screams as The Question takes a step back. No stranger to violence or being a bringer of violence himself, the faceless Zen warrior watches Huntress with a air of curiosity. Has Richard rubbed off on her at all, he ponders to himself. How far will she take it? Tony, however, tries to catch his breath. He stares at the Huntress, a cold fire in his eyes. He wants to be defiant, but the tremble of his upper lip is breaking that poker faced facade he is trying to maintain.
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress wrenches the bolt in a slow, wide, rough circle while leaving the head buried in Tony's shoulder. "Oooh, I'll bet that really hurts." she replies. "That helping your memory, Tony? Hang on, it looks like you're breaking a sweat." Reaching out, she uses the knife's edge to -lightly- and -carefully- scrape along his cheek. And as she holds it up to his eyes, he can see for himself that there's moisture on the blade.
Vic Sage	Tony screams as the bolt is wrenched in his shoulder. The pain causing him to try and pull away, which in turn wrenches the bolt further and causes more pain. "Allegretto!" he cries, the words forced out through the pain. "Allegretto run the operation! Now let go!" The Question pulls out a pen and pad of paper, making a note. "Huntress? I think that is enough."
Helena Bertinelli	Huntress gives the bolt a final twist, pulling it free. Roughly. She rises, picking up a napkin from the table to wipe off the blood. Taking a step away, she rounds on Tony then. "The bartender and the cook are tied up in the kitchen. They saw nothing after the fight and the -know- nothing. Understand?" Replacing the bolt in her wrist quiver, she turns to Q. "You're welcome. I'll be outside if you need me for anything." Pausing for a moment, she adds. "And Q? We really need to get you a comm."