Owner	Pose
Talia al Ghul	Things have been quiet since the incident in Brooklyn, there has been no sign of the Foot Clan, or the strange criminals that attacked their warehouse, just another day in New York City, perhaps. This has given the city, and the crime fighters a chance to settle back into their normal routines, and business as usual has returned to the City that Never Sleeps. It is night in Hell's Kitchen, the sky slightly overcast, and the glow of street lights, and the neon glow of signs offer illumination to the dark night, traffic is normal, and it's otherwise a peaceful night all things considered, though all good things must come to an end, however.. Glass explodes out of a commercial storefront, a flower delivery shop by the looks of things, also the front for a local Hand operation, as some might be aware, the operation only just having come to light. Someone seems to have beaten the Heroes of New York City to the punch however, as a Hand foot soldier ends up crashing onto the street. The sounds of gunfire soon follow from within the building complex, adding to the growing sense of distress that something may be up at the Florists.
Jessica Jones	Jessica Jones had been walking home. Just. Walking. Home. Should be simple enough right? Put feet in front of feet, walk down street, go home, have some booze finally, unwind from a long day? But no. No, instead, glass shatters just as she's passing. She throws up her arm, sadly not clad with a leather jacket tonight but with a simple blue and black plaid shirt over a black tank top, and makes a face as some of the glass enters said arm. Just tiny little cuts and scratches. She peers down at the guy at her feet, having no idea who or what he is. She scowls when the gunshots start. She looks longingly down the street. Her apartment is right there. She can see it. She could probably be there in 30 seconds with one good leap... There are things that live deeper in Jessica Jones' heart than the desire to go home and drink though, and it's those things that have her pushing her way into the complex. Carefully. Taking cover. Because she's no more bulletproof than she is glass-proof. It's the utter lack of trust that she has for cops of any stripe-- and they for her-- along with their general lack of decent response times in Hell's Kitchen-- that has her deciding yep, she should intervene in this shit. Still, she mutters, a bit of a lament for the lost drinking and relaxation time: "Right. Fucking. There."
Damian Wayne	Sitting in an alley, he wore his cloak down around him as he sat in hells kitchen. He had been tracking her for a while now, though in the middle of this conflict it was a bit tougher. So he decided to do the next best thing, and decided to follow her enemy. He had been on the streets for a couple days now, and used his cloak to look like one of the many untouchables that were around these parts. Thankfully he did not have to wait long, before the chaos entered the night. She was never a patient person. No rash, fast to act when she had her goal infront of her... He thought about what his grandfather had tought him about patience, though it makes his scowl deepen a little bit. He adds bearly a whisper.. "Very stealthy.. One would think both sides know better." though in his hand he hits a stop-watch starting the count. He doesn't move towards the scene, as his alley gives him a perspective though he can just sit in the shadows away enough to watch the action unfold if he wishes to. The watch disapears under his cloak again, as he quietly watches... waiting his proper moment.
Iron Fist	The Iron Fist perches on a rooftop across from the florist, watching. He's known for some time about the Hand operating out of the small storefront, but, given the scope of the organization and the relative size of the store, has mostly ignored it. Until tonight, that is. Anyone who may be watching the yellow-and-green clad warrior could fairly assume that he sits meditating. But his eyes are open, his ear peeled, and his chi alert for trouble. Trouble that comes, as it so often does these days, with shattered glass and gunfire. At the sound, the Iron Fist leans in to spot the body of the fallen Hand soldier and the nearby civilian (he assumes). He stands, takes a few steps back, then runs for the edge of the building. Drawing on his chi, he leaps, elongating his body as he crosses the distance between his building and the shorter one that the florist occupies, then tucking it in just before he lands with a thud and roll. Up a moment later, he moves to find the shortest way down the side of the building.
Dick Grayson	Nightwing is not a native to these parts. He doesn't feel in his element. The air feels off somehow. Different. There's just something intangible about being here that is so vastly different than Gotham, despite the superficial similarities. But here is where he has to be. Here is where the trail has led him. You see, Nightwing is working for Batman. There's been a new group in Gotham that's been shaking up the status quo, and they've come out too hard, too fast. Even Dick has to admit that it seems like they're being backed by, or a front of, a much larger, more established group. And he's not the detective his mentor is. And so, the work had been laid out. Tracking movements and crime scenes. Predicting targets. All of it led Dick Grayson out to Clinton, of all places, just to investigate a potential front for some Asian criminals. That part, at least, feels like home. That's when he hears things kick off. It's a few blocks away, but that means very little when you're one of the world's greatest acrobats. The svelte form of the Flying Grayson launches off the ledge of a rooftop, freefalling in a swan dive towards the pavement floor eight stories below him, before the soft "pfft" of his grapnel gun heralds a line of steel cable being launched for him to swing from. Up and over, Nightwing rounds a corner, running on plate glass windows as silent as a ghost, before he leaps and performs a graceful backflip just to land on a roof overlooking the chaos. A roof that one mystic martial artist probably just left.
Talia al Ghul	The gunfire is a quick way to cause a panic on the streets, people begin to scream, no doubt phones are called, amateur photographers aim their cameras skyward, in hopes of getting a shot of Superman swooping in, or some other costumed crusader. In general, things get a bit hectic outside of the building. Inside the main room of the Florists, a pair of mercenary looking fellows, dressed in a mix of tactical gear and civilian clothing have currently just ducked behind the counter, each with a heavy submachinegun, leaping in front of them is a Hand Ninja, machinegun fire is sent at him, the ninja of course quite dodgy as he tries to close the distance, the end result: A spray of bullets exiting the front window, impacting the wall opposite before the Hand Ninja gets in close enough to begin fighting the two. From outside, more signs of fighting occur, these on the second and third floor of the building, sounds of breaking furniture, clashing swords, and general cacophony, as well as the occasional sound of added gunfire.
Jessica Jones	"Not in my neighborhood. Okay? Guys? I mean Jesus Christ, nobody will be able to get to sleep tonight. Sirens, newscasters, all that bullshit, for hours on end." That's what one Jessica Jones says as she gives a flying leap that is intended to place her behind both the mercenaries. She also reaches out with one hand and simply attempts to crush the machine gun of one of the mercs; if she's successful that thing will be a useless hunk of metal in no time flat. It may sound like light banter, but there's a real sardonic exhaustion to the words, as if she really is mostly just put out rather than trying to engage in some sort of clever patter. "And for the record? If you're trying to make up with your girlfriends? You can't bring bouquets with broken glass and bullets in 'em. We //hate// that shit." Not that Jones would know personally, as she hasn't had enough relationships get to any kind of a stage where anyone brings flowers, with bullets and broken glass or without it. But. She's got a great imagination. She can extrapolate.
Damian Wayne	The chaos is easy to move in without calling attention. Just anoter person in the crowd, as the small figure decides to approach a bit further. He had marked the time, and sighed as it was too fast the hand should not of placed here they wised to hide in plain sight, but that had backfired and now they were out of time. Not that he really cared for them, or this other group she seemed to be having fun with. He moved closer in the crowd, though not to the front just in the mess swaying at times with people pushing in to get a closer shot, or out to run away. A sigh came out, as thankfully his mother was not silly enough to show herself in the shop, but he had a feeling she would be close. So he kept on his guard quietly watching the chaos, and the hero's so they didn't get too close to him. He was a simple observer though that would change if he went too far in. He then waited, looking searching for the one person he would know in a horde of faces.
Iron Fist	As the sound of combat breaks through the building, questions illuminate for the Iron Fist. Who is engaging the Hand? Where have they come from? Can he have a business card? And why, of all possible fronts to take up, did the ninjas choose a florist's shop? Admittedly, some of these questions are more reasonable than others, but they nevertheless pass through his mind as he, first, leaps over the edge of the roof, then slides down the building's facade to grip a third-fllor windowsill on the way down. He hangs there for a moment, then kicks kicks off the wall and swings himself into the window. It shatters as he tumbles in to join the fray. The mystic warrior dragon steps to the nearest Hand operative to deliver a series of three punches (one to the face, two to the chest) in rapid succession, before moving on to the next.
Dick Grayson	"How is it that I so often find myself put in a position of having to save bad guys from other bad guys, anyway?" Nightwing muses to himself as he takes a few steps backwards on the rooftop, away from the ledge, and bounces on the balls of his feet. A quick release of a deep breath, and Dick Grayson flings himself forward, bolting into a full sprint in Olympic level speed. As he nears the ledge, his lithe form bunches up, helping him use all of his muscle in perfect harmony to launch himself heavenward. Just in time to see Danny's own acrobatic entrance. Dick's own trajectory is on a similar course, but from a very different angle. The soaring black and blue Nightwing practically crosses the distance in one graceful swoop. It looks as if he might straight up faceplant into the brick facade of the half-ruined floral shop but at the last moment, he catches hold of a nearby streelight, and swings deftly around it's metal circumference. He spirals, swinging around and around, descending the lampost until he suddenly bursts free from it to enter the same shattered window that Iron Fist had used. In fact, he lands in a roll, passing right by Danny as he engages the nearest ninja. "'scuse me, just passin' through!" As he comes out of his roll to his feet, he pulls the two escrima sticks from his back, twirling them in his fingers as he rushes a mercenary with a flying spinning heel kick aimed so that his heel should collide with the mercenary's temple and knock him out cold. Should.
Talia al Ghul	Both the Hand ninjas, and the Leviathan soldiers would be considered quite formidable opponents to most people, expert killers, fighters, and shooters, but Luckily for our heroes, they are not ordinary folk. Jessica crushes guns, and manhandles mercenaries without much problem, the Hand Ninja however replies to her banter, "This is not your business girl!" Before swinging a Katana her way. The lurking Damian will come across one of the Leviathan terrorists in the process of setting an incendiary devices, having just finished arming it when the possibly future boy wonder finds him. The device is small, however, and unlikely sufficient to take out the entire building? could there be more? The duo that is Nightwing and Iron Fist enter through the same window, the mooks dispatched easily by the trained fighters with fist and club respectively, deeper in the building is the sound of more intense fighting, and the sound of a woman's voice echoes out. "Thirty more seconds, then break away!"
Jessica Jones	There might be a vein starting to throb in the temple of Hell's Kitchen's grumpiest private detective. Machine gun guys. Ninja guys. Some representatives from the mask n' cape contingent who also act like ninja guys. All contributing to some general bit of chaos. Furthermore, the capes meant she could have just gone home to her drinking. But now, here she is. In the thick of shit. Can't exactly walk out now. But she can scowl. Very hard. That's her perogative. Oh look, sudden sword. Jessica gets an unimpressed look on her face and whips her body back, raven hair sticking across her cheeks and flying out every which way. She sidesteps a little, quickly, and attempts to grab him and send //him// through the window and out onto the street, grumbling, "Take that shit back to your Mom's basement, nerd." Thirty more seconds, then break away? That...either sounds like a demented flash mob's stage direction or something entirely Not Good.
Damian Wayne	The figure was tempted to act, he was tempted to grab the man planting the bomb, though he is glad he didn't as another shadows fall upon him. Hearing the mercenaries banter was one thing, but then hearing that one voice he reconized so well. Waiting for the proper time so that the hero could dispatch the other villian he rushed his way past him to go into the chaos of the house. He hated making such a straight forward move, but it seemed he was on the clock. Since most the fighting was up on a higher floor or deeper he had hoped to remain hidden showing these Merc's and hand what being an assassin was all about, as he entered he didn't touch any of the guns, or swords just walking through towards the sound of the voice. He had a message to deliver, and these people were just pawns. So he moved quietly using the hand to fight her group, and visa versa when needed. Sneaking around, or over people when he needed.. His mind on his goal, not fighting as it was a waste of time in this situation.
Iron Fist	The third-floor battle is fierce, to be sure, with weapons and body parts cutting the air between all participants. To the left, a ninja is shot down by riflefire, painting the wall behind her red. To the right, a mercenary kebab served up by the Hand. Among this, the Iron Fist encounters another of the Hand ninjas - how could he not - on his way through the room. He lifts his knee high to Muay Thai block a kick, ducks under a swinging blade, then leaps to deliver a neck-snapping front kick. All over in the blink of an eye. Then, the ominous command from deep in the building. It serves as a beacon for the K'un-Lun warrior, who starts in its direction. "Cover me, would ya!?" he yells to Nightwing as he passes by him.
Clayface	Down the street in the back of a taxi cab a man in blue-jean overalls and boots sits comfortably talking with the cab driver, "Yeah, the movie was good. The lead was hot but the lines they gave her made it really hard for her to really show her range as an actress. There's not a lot you can do with playing the first woman zombie president. I mean, who even thought that was a good idea? An entire world turned to zombies fighting over the last scraps of living food? Who would have thought that would sell tickets, right?" the cab driver is just trying to be polite to the guy in the back seat until he turns the corner and sees... this.. Ninjas, fires, shooting. He puts it in reverse and tries to back up but gets caught in traffic as people start to panic. The guy in the back seat looks out of the window of the taxi and swears, "Mother ******* you can't go two hours this town without something exploding." The cab becomes trapped as people try to drive away from the violence. "I'll just walk from here." the farmer says paying his bill.
Dick Grayson	"Sure thing, buddy," Nightwing says to Iron Fist as Danny moves past him. Sure, they might not know each other, but it was clear that they were playing the same game. Plus, the guy has some moves, and the costume ain't half bad, either. To the end of covering Danny, Nightwing actually follows. It just happens to coincide with the darting shadow of a person too small to be here, involved in all of this. A shadow that made him think of his early days with Bruce. But, in the meantime... Ninjas and Mercenaries and Detectives! Oh my! The acrobatic crimefighter ducks and dodges, weaving in and out of gunfire like he's Kevin Bacon Punch-Dancing all of his problems away in a barn somewhere that dancing is inexplicably illegal. He cartwheels, kicking one mercenary in the jaw, while simutaneously launching a fistful of wingding shurikens at others, to keep them off of Iron Fist's tail, and to make certain that their gunfire is blocked or redirected. Finally, he ends in a slide on his knees, tossing a smoke grenade to either side of him to leave a thick, white cloud. He hopes that he's provided enough cover. Now... to find that kid.
Talia al Ghul	In the world of Street Crime, Jessica Jones is certainly a powerhouse, at least as far as her strength goes, and so without much effort a second Hand ninja goes flying out the window and onto the street with a meaty thump, leaving 'Jewel' free of criminals with murderous intent for the moment, able to delve deeper should she choose. Upstairs, the bulk of our heroes burst into a room, once sealed, and protected by heavy duty blast doors, those doors now hanging open, hinges busted and barely attached to the frame. This would be the apparent nerve center of the operation, a drug distribution facility, packets of white, vaguely reminiscent of Flour, sit atop stainless-steel tables, larger packages waiting to be processed stacked about. Inside the room, preparing to move through another door one finds the source of that earlier voice, a raven-haired woman, wearing a tight black body glove, and a black mask that covers her face below the eyes, carrying a curved sword. One might mistake her for one of the Hand, if not for the Hand ninjas that have been dispatched, as well as the two large Mercenaries that accompany her, these carry themselves different then the rank and file, more sinister, imposing, perhaps due to the fact that these men are not your typical Gotham criminals, rather highly elite, League of Assassin trained bodyguards.
Jessica Jones	Right. Now Jess has some options. She tilts her head towards the upper floors. She'd seen those capes swing in across the street up there, briefly, before she'd gone about the business of doing her thing. They probably have it under control now. She can probably just go home... Then again, maybe she should figure out who these guys even are. She bends down to check the pockets of the mercenary she took down behind the counter. And... "Awww //fuck me//. Is that a bomb?" She plucks it up and slowly looks at it... "Yep, that is a //fucking bomb//." Thirty seconds then break away? She sure hopes it's the ONLY bomb. "Sure hope this isn't going to explode in thirty seconds..." One Jessica Jones races out to the street. She leaps ontop of the taxi that the farmer just got out of, needing some leverage. She soars, up and up and into the air. And if she will soon have to come back down again in this fine display of the beginning of 'guided falling'...it gives her enough of a clear shot to chuck that thing into the East River. It's all she can think to do. She's certainly nobody who is going to carefully disarm it. She does make sure she's not aiming anywhere near a bridge, or a barge, or anything like that. "Who the fuck bombs a flower shop? Who the fuck shoots up a flower shop? Who the fuck brings swords to a flower shop? God damn it, god damn it, god damn it!" Splash. Wide target, good aim, strong (really strong) arm. She lands in a crouch on the tax, and launches herself back at the building. Because apparently there are BOMBS-- and maybe she should find the rest.
Damian Wayne	It takes some doing to get there, thankfully most of the fight is elsewhere or he would never be able to do it. It is pretty uneventful, and would be boring to those who rather just bust skulls, or stop the villians, but it is a practice of patience to Damian. As he sneaks by a room of two men fighting he thinks to himself how the very people he escaped from tought him how to do it which gives him a small smirk. A few things happen as he enters the next room, there is a hand but no League members he is facing away towards what sounds to be coming. The door opening, and the bodyguards starting to move in. It would be a simple sight, just one hand agent standing infront of them not moving though before much could be done he would fall to the ground, a metal spike in the back of his spine. A small boy stands over the man, though he is covered in a cloak, and has his mask on I do not think Talia knows many 4' tall people who are as quiet as Damian. Though any doubt would go away as Damian says two words.. "Hello.. Mother." though falls silent looking at the stop-watch. She would know that it is just a faint he is watching them as well as if he were looking, but he puts it away. He is infront of the door out, though you could move around him if wanted. He just stands there waiting before continuing.. "We need to talk.. And you are a hard person to get ahold of."
Iron Fist	For a moment, the Iron Fist and Nighthwing appear to fight and move as a single unit. While the latter clears the room with shurikens and smoke bombs, the martial artist kicks and punches his way through to the inner sanctum of the building. Uppercut - THWACK! Spinning inside crescent kick - KEE-YA! Eventually, he finds his way into the room Talia occupies. There, too, is a familiar four-foot figure that draws a deep frown on the Iron Fist's face. He eyes the drugs, the goons, and the woman's wicked, curved sword. "What is your interest in the Hand?" he demands, fists balled and raised. His stance is strong and defensive for the moment, though it's clear the warrior is ready to dive into battle at the first sign of additional violence.
Clayface	Walking down the street towards the gunfire the farmer takes out his phone and pulls up a playlist. He slips in some earbuds in under his golden blond mullet as he walks and turns on the gps to lead him to the place he needs to go. Looking down at his phone and listening to classical music he walks towards the danger, clueless or careless as he sings to himself with a southern twang, "~I can see you over there, staring at your drink, watchin that ice sink, all alone tonight. And chances are youre sittin here in this bar cause he aint gonna treat you right.~" he sings as he walks right into the chaos along the sidewalk as Jessica runs past him. "People round these parts are always in such a hurry." he mutters as he closes out the GPS program, steps over the shattered glass and prone body of a Ninja. The farmer walks inside the flower shop to pick up his order. "Hello?" he calls out looking for someone who works there that isn't an unconscious ninja. "Customer up front! Ya'll still open? I need ta pick up mah, order." he says slipping his phone into the pocket of his muddy overalls. Then he sees the little bell sitting on the counter and rings it three times. Ding-Ding-Ding. Jessica might find this a strange sight on her return to the shop.
Dick Grayson	As the dynamic duo of WingFist(tm) enter the room, Grayson's milky white eyes scan the contents. Drugs. Lots of drugs. He has incendiary devices to resolve that. What he doesn't have is the means to shake the surprise that grips him when he sees the figure of the woman before him. Dick is a fantastic actor, but one might easily see the tell as his adam's apple bobs in his throat, and his jaw clenches so as to keep it from dropping. What. The. Hell? Leviathan. Her. This doesn't make any sense. What does it all mean? Is Leviathan really the League? Or has she left and started her own thing? What purpose is there in attacking The Hand? And who is the munchkin and why did he call her mother? This is just getting to be too much. He half expects the aging but still sultry Mexican maid to come busting through the door to shout "Ay dios mio!", straight out of a telenovela. "Hey... uh... Golden Mask... She's someone very... very dangerous. Those guys, too. I... I don't know what to say about the kid," Nightwing says, the confusion clearly wrought in his voice. "....Did... did I just hear someone ringing a bell?"
Talia al Ghul	Not just a bell, but a colorful little jingle that goes off as the door is swung open, announcing Clayface's arrival, then it triggers a second time as Jessica returns in a rush to the front entrance of the Florists shop, the sound of fighting is fading a bit across the building, either the combatants are departing, or one side is winning soundly, it is hard to say for certain. "Confirmation, the Bombs are set, Leviathan." One of the bodyguards upstairs says to Talia al Ghul. Anyone who actively begins the search for explosive devices in the Florist shop, will likely find them, small things, intended to create fire more than a true high explosive, and it would seem there are many of them scattered about the building. Arson seems a goal of this attack, the motivation of course, still cloudy. "The Who?" Talia responds to Iron Fist's question, perhaps a condescending response, "I have no interest in them, they are nothing to me." She lets her attention focus on Nightwing next, "Aren't you a little far from Gotham?" The question is posed, but soon her attention is on Damian, "I assume this is an explanation of why you ran away, that you wish to give me." She says, her stride resuming with the intent to move past the cloaked little guy, her bodyguards remaining interposed between her and FistWing.
Jessica Jones	"Get the Hell out of here, moron, you're going to die!" That's what Jessica Jones has to say to the country music fan as she dashes around the room. Bomb. And bomb. And bomb. Jesus! Another bomb! She's gathering them up, dashing down the hall now like a girl gathering flowers, though no girl gathering flowers ever looked quite so rough, so grumpy. She really is not an arson or a bomb expert, to tell what sort of boom or bullshit this is supposed to create. Second floor...more bombs. She is just loving having all of these in her arms, truly. This is her day. This is her life now. It's a good thing she runs really fast, and her investigative skills do help her pick them out, though whether or not she misses any is anyone's guess. Pound pound clop clop up the stairs-- another one!-- and third floor. There's a whole drama going on up here. Jess, proverbial bull in the China shop that she is, blows right past it. "Don't mind me, continue your cape and villian posturing, just getting rid of the //bombs//--"
Damian Wayne	The boy looks at her and sighs. "Grandfather has not explained it to you yet you always know he was better in long term strategy." though as she moves past him he passes a note to her. It is a practiced motion, as delivering notes in enemy territory needed to be quick, and hidden. If others see it he doesn't care, but it is the easiest way to set up a meet unless he wanted to just keep ambushing her at her targets. And that is it, that is all he does he doesn't threaten, or attack anyone. He just delivers the note to the lady, and gives her a nod as she moves by. He starts walking the other way, but stops at the door. "Oh, and watch the Yellow, and green one. Despite his clothing choice he is intresting.. The rest." he looks right at Nightwing.. "Meh.." and turns to start walking away again.
Iron Fist	The Iron Fist turns to Nightwing and nods. Though he would have plopped Talia into the "probably very dangerous" category based on her getup and bodyguards, it's nice to have someone who appears to know her confirm this. His attention then falls briefly on Damian before turning back to Talia. The room quickly adopts the feel of an uncomfortable reunion. Luckily, Jessica Jones trudges past to break things up a bit. She mutters of bombs, and he scowls. Though he has more questions, ridding the building of explosives is a more imminent task. So, after noting Damian's description of him, the Iron Fist slowly backs out of the room to join the Jessica in rounding up the devices.
Clayface	Seeing Jessica bound back into the shop the farmer says, "Sorry ta interrupt your smoke break. I'm here ta pick up an order, it's under Tommy Utah." ignoring her warning as she gathers up the bombs. He points to a bottle on the shelf behind the counter, "I think it's that big bottle with the shark on it there and the two green boxes next to it. If you could bag those up for me, I'd appreciate it mightly, Ma'm" he says then he pauses and snaps his fingers, "Oh, you'll need ta see mah, digi-tal receipt thing." he says and reaches for his phone to open a web browser, "Just give me a minute, I'm still figurin this thing out. " he says then he starts typing and spelling verbally, "M. E. T. R. O. dash not the dot, but the dash, M. A. I. L. dot C. O. M." he pauses and says, "Got it on the first try! I'm gettin better." then he looks up and sees she's flew upstairs and smirks to himself hoping she has super-hearing so she can still enjoy his performance. "Ma'm?" he calls out acting clueless, "Now where in tarnation did she go? This is some mighty poor service."
Dick Grayson	Bombs. Right. Jessica's shuffling through the scene actually does kick Nightwing out of his shock. So she's Leviathan. And this kid... her brat. Despite how much Dick loves to play the goofball, he's far more clever than he actually lets on. His mind is working a thousand miles per minute, and he knows that with the help of Iron Fist... Well. Crap. Talia would be a fight all on her own. He could probably manage it, but it would cost him. Talia, two of her elite, and her potential demon spawn? With incendiary bombs to worry about, as well? No. He's alone in this race, and since he's not playing the home turf advantage, he has no easy outs here if things go south. Besides, he was only here to recon, anyway. He only got involved because of the incident. He flings out a few pellets, each of which burst in the air with a brilliant flash of blinding light and a ear-splitting bang. Smoke begins to fill up the room, providing Nightwing the cover needed to make his own exit. But not before he leaves a small incendiary device of his own. A series of flares spark up, being tossed around to the piles of free standing drugs in the room. No need to let that stuff potentially get out on the street. And with that, Nightwing vanishes.
Talia al Ghul	The Smoke Bombs provide suitable cover for a variety of escapes, Nightwings, of course, but Talia and her two henchmen also vanish like ghosts in the night, and a note from the young hooded Damian as well. The chaos and confusion has also offered an opportunity for cleanups of other nature, the injured snatched away, the dead in some instances left, other instances their bodies disposed of in other means, rendered ash or the like, leaving very little concrete evidence for the police behind. The fire is averted, one that could have proved disastrous to the entire block if not for the efforts of Jessica Jones, and Iron Fist, though a smaller fire created by Nightwing does destroy the drugs, with little collateral damage thanks to the innovations out of the Batcave. Eventually the Police, and the fire department arrive, tending to any incidental casualties, a car accident from the flight, pieces of brick kicked up from stray bullet fire into a man's arm, and similar minor civilian injuries. There is ample time for our heroes to make themselves scarce before the authorities arrive, but that would cut short any investigation of the crime scene, other then what had already been discovered.