13763/Somebody Spilled Their Beer

Somebody Spilled Their Beer
Date of Scene:	06 January 2023
Location:	Noonan's Sleazy Bar
Synopsis:	Sabretooth is on the hunt for someone. Kate Kane is on the hunt for trouble. One of them finds what they're looking for and the other one gets a lead.
Cast of Characters:	Victor Creed, Kate Kane

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Victor Creed has posed:
    Noonan's is not the sort of place where anyone wants the cops showing up. And frankly, it's not the sort of place the cops want to show up either. When things get a little rough, they tend to sort them out inside.

    So a flood of crooks and thugs dashing out of Noonan's screaming about a blood bath is not something you would typically see. There are no sounds of gunfire to accompany the flight, which might be all the more peculiar. But something is definitely amok in the bar.

Kate Kane has posed:
    Gotham's never really quiet, there's always something going on. Bank robberies, gang wars, clown-themed criminals kidnapping a bus full of schoolkids, condiment-themed villains... well, Kate's never actually figured out the logic behind Condiment King. But it's rare for none of those things to be lighting up the proverbial switchboard with calls for GCPD backup.

    Which means certain parts of the city are often overlooked even by the vigilantes of Gotham. Noonan's is amongst those places, especially now that Kate's non-costumed life is stable. Or, at least, stable enough she does her drinking in far classier establishments. Which is why it brings a pause when she's screaming by on her bike, only to catch sight of a wave of humanity flooding out of the local watering hole... and not swinging bats and chains and going to riot?

    Well, that's probably a bad sign. It takes a lot to get through the haze of alcohol of your typical Noonan's patron's headspace to inspire fear. Batwoman's bike screeches to a stop, kicking the back wheel off the pavement, not enough to fully flip the bike, but it's enough to launch the tall redhead rider into the air like a missile to execute a truly impressive front flip into a glide, to kick feet first through the front window.

    Not that anyone was paying enough attention to _see_ that, Kate thinks bitterly. She lands with a shower of glass, directly into a crouch, dark cloak flared out, suit blending in, her white-painted face and ruby lips like some sort of hellish ghost in the inky void as she takes in the carnage and chaos.

Victor Creed has posed:
    On an ordinary day, the arrival of Batwoman at Noonan's would probably be a less welcome sight. Today, though, she may be Gandalf at the first light of the morning.

    It is /immediately/ clear why the bar is a lot emptier than it usually is. There are a few overturned tables, and no small number of overturned patrons, as well. And that is unlikely to be ketchup pooling on the floor. In the middle of all of the chaos is Clyde. Somewhat known around town, ran with a few different crews. A typical mook for hire that never really caught on anywhere particularly long. A capable thug, if not inventive. But the kind of guy who knows everybody, and is usually amusing enough with a joke that folks hang around him. This time, though, he is the one hanging around.

    Suspended a few feet off the ground, his legs kicking feebly, Clyde is gasping for air as a large man with a gorgeous mane of blonde hair has his fingers wrapped around his throat. His back is to the window so he /also/ misses the glory of Batwoman's entrance, his gaze focused on Clyde. "Just tell me where to find him, and this will all be over." From the glint of his fanged grin, it is clear that the assailant may have a different idea of what kind of state Clyde will be in when this is all over. Which is perhaps why Clyde is mostly clammed up.

    Has Batwoman ever had a crook look at her with such hope and appreciation before?

Kate Kane has posed:
    Kate takes in the scene quickly, face impassive, because screwing one's face up in a 'What the fu-?!' expression tends to lessen one's fearful impact on superstitious and cowardly criminals. OVerturned tables and smashed chairs? Pretty normal. Unmoving bodies? Less common but sometimes those arguments about Gotham Knights games get spirited.

    Pools of blood? That's new. Sure, Noonan's sometimes has a sticky floor, but it's usually spilt beer with a _dash_ of blood. And also, usually no one's choking Clyde out and holding him up like a surprisingly weightless sack of potatoes. Kate shifts up to a standing posture, since her entrance efforts are in vain. How does Bruce always make those dramatic entrances count?

    "I'm pretty sure he can't talk. You don't strike me as a medschool candidate, but the larynx needs to be able to _move_ to form words, Point Break."

    Was it unoriginal to call the big guy with the long blonde hear Point Break? Sure. But hey, if he's angry at her, maybe he won't kill Clyde.

Victor Creed has posed:
    It takes a certain degree of arrogance and overconfidence to not respond to a crashing entrance. Or rank stupidity. It's unclear which is the more impactful trait of Victor Creed. Could be a combination of all of them.

    "Huh. How about that." He reaches up with his other hand, claws visible at the end of his fingers and stabs them into the top of Clyde's chest, releasing his grip on the man's neck.

    Once the initial scream subsides Clyde quickly rattles off an address down near the docks. Perhaps Batwoman's tip was just what Victor needed. The man turns to regard the new arrival fully now, licking his lips for a moment, tongue crossing over each fang in turn. "Looks like you were right. Don't suppose you want to tag along as my good luck charm, huh?"

Kate Kane has posed:
    Kate's face remains impassive, but her inner monologue is far _more_ concerned. This guy is trouble. Like 'Seedy Gotham bar patrons are overmatched in skill, ferocity _and_ sadism' trouble. Sure, they might lose out on one of those things most times, but a clean sweep? Poor guys.

    Lips are pressed into a thin, unamused line, and that address is mentally filed away. "I wasn't really planning on it. I was mostly going to suggest you stop causing trouble and leave town. You've got your friend's address."

    She presses her left fist into her right palm, making a slow show of cracking her knuckles, then repeating with her other hand.

    "Write him a letter. Get your feelings out on paper. It's the healthy choice. I mean, it's that or you get a free stay in what you could call a very small concrete apartment."

Victor Creed has posed:
    That grin broadens as Victor listens to Batwoman. "I'm done. Here." And with the casual of motions he twists his claws buried in Clyde's upper sternum and tosses him off to the side to land amidst his former drinking companions.

    He turns fully to face Batwoman, and there can be no mistaking the fact th he was the full source of the carnage. His grey suit is coated with blood, none of which would appear to be his. "I'm not much for writing. Or feelings." He glances down at himself, and then back at her. "Or healthy choices." He considers her cracked knuckles, and rolls his head a bit himself. "And I don't like small confined spaces. So you've kinda got a choice here, because I'm feeling generous. Maybe because of your little tip about the lorax earlier."

    There is a glint again from his fangs as he smiles at her. "Gonna give you a chance to go back outside. I'd suggest the door though." The grin broadens. "Or we can stay here and dance. And as much as I'd enjoy that, I gotta warn you, I'm a pretty good dancer, but I've got a nasty habit of stepping on my partner's toes."

Kate Kane has posed:
    Kate is glad her cowl has opaque white lenses, so she's not ruining her impassive facial expression with the almost painfully exaggerated roll her eyes do. Ohhh, he doesn't do _feelings_ or _healthy choices_. Like that's not going around. Sure, part of Kate's mind reminds her it's probably not a good thing that her reaction to seven feet of blood soaked muscle talking about not caring about feelings or healthy choices is 'Yeah, wow buddy, that makes two of us.'

    Kate will deal with that little voice in her mind later though. Right now she's letting Victor do his posturing and threatening, head tilting ever so slightly, mimicking a glance back to the door without actually letting him leave her field of view. "Hey, this place had a perfectly open floorplan until someone covered it in bodies and broken furniture. That's all on you. And I've gotta tell you, I'm a terrible dancer. Someone always winds up hurt."

    And that's about it, before Kate's coiling to spring forward into a dramatic flying kick.

Victor Creed has posed:
    Victor watches Kate with a great deal of interest, his eyes moving over her form, but in a critical way. That predatory grin just broadens as he watches her consider his offer. He suspects he knows how this is going to play out. He's messed with enough capes to know that she is not going to back down.

    The expression on his face as she starts to move towards the kick is only confirmation of that. "That's my kind of dancin', Lady Bat." He is expecting an attack, and was hoping for it, so as she launches herself at him, he is already twisting in motion. If she was expecting the large man to move at the speed of a large man, she will be grossly misjudging the speed and agility with which he moves. His goal is to dodge to the side and reach out with one of his razor sharp claws to take a piece of her costume along with them. Or whatever lies underneath.

    Either way, he does not seem terribly concerned about a small concrete box in his future, as short of the side step, he is not making any attempt to escape. He seems to want the dance. And whatever hurt accompanies it.

Kate Kane has posed:
    Kate doesn't respond verbally to Victor's appreciation for her choice of 'violence' for the solution to this. She's sure the other Bat-associated vigilantes would disapprove. She has the address Victor is looking for. She doesn't even know who he's looking for there. Retreating and gathering intel is the smart choice. But she's already flying in for the first strike, so 'smart' is out of the question.

    In retrospect, a man standing amongst so many broken bodies, with claws, probably has other super powers. Kate's probably read a dossier on this guy and should know his name, motivations, the fact that he can move faster than the average wall of muscle. And she does know. Because her kick flies through an empty space where Victor's torso was a moment ago, just in time for an ungodly noise to sound as claws find purchase.

    The first sound is a ripping noise as her cape takes a slashing that leaves a gaping rend in dark fabric... but it's the noise that sounds like nails on chalkboard dialed to eleven that really registers. Claws on ceramic composite armor is ungodly awful to hear.

    Fortunately it's also mostly harmless, though there are gaps in Kate's armor, and she feels the briefest flash of searing pain as a clawtip digs in under one of those gaps. Well, what's another scar? It's just going to fade in with the rest.

    Kate's momentum is altered by the blow, as she lands, sliding across blood-slick flooring, one hand pressing down into the puddle to try and gain a bit more traction... it's her _other_ hand that might be more worrying, drawn inside her cape, out of view as she skids to a stop against the bar, with the way out totally open for Victor towards the front of the bar.

Victor Creed has posed:
    Maybe the other Bats don't approve of choosing violence, but Sabretooth sure does. Kate might sense the mistake from the sheer delight on his face as she launches the kick before she feels the actual impact of it onher form.

    Sure, the man can move fast. And his claws are far sharper than any human being has any right to have. If he is even human. Even if he is a mutant, is he a human mutated into an animal or an animal mutated into a human.

    She will not see the look of sheer joy on his face as he feels his claw slice her cape, or into her suit. Or the devilish delight of them finding flesh. Likewise, she misses the sheer expression of pain as that sound assaults his enhanced hearing, unprepared for such a cacophany.
        Victor staggers back even after delivering that blow. He manages to keep his composure even as the pain roars inside of his skull. A true predator never shows weakness. He watches her slide and decides that whatever she is pulling out, as much fun as it may be to tangle with, he would much rather do it at a later time. When he can hear her screams.
        He reaches up to bring the claw that struck home beneath his nose, and she can watch his nostrils flare as he inhales the scent of her. And then place the claw in his mouth, slurping for a moment at her blood. "You're fun," he says. "Be seeing you." And then he turns to take advantage of the new opening she added to Noonan's, leaping out the window with the pounce of a big cat, seemingly intent upon bounding away into the night.

Kate Kane has posed:
    Kate's breath is shallow, jaw clenched, lips pulled back in a snarl... and for once, those opaque lenses in her cowl might actually be _less_ unsettling than if her eyes were visible. If those green irises were visible, with a flare of rage and lethal intent.

    Victor's fast enough that as he turns, Kate know she can't catch him. Definitely not with that heated pain in her side... oh, she could push through it. Force herself to run and jump and chase until she passed out. But she's not faster than a speeding bullet even at her best.

    Of course, that's why she carries a modified .45 in the back of her utility belt. It's not large enough to hold a full magazine, but four shots should be enough for most trouble.

    Most. He does get to hear her _yell_ though, as he's bounding away there's a cry of unrestrained rage, interrupted by four rapid gunshots. Kate's an expert markswoman, and... well, this guy's a really big target. Center mass has a lot of mass.

    As Victor retreats, there's tense moments before Kate's sure he's gone. Well, she knows where he's going. And she can open a commlink channel to call... well, GCPD for certain. An ambulance or two. She has a feeling most of these still bodies aren't going to need one, but there's a couple of bodies who look borderline.

    She might need to contact Oracle about this. She's got access to CCTV systems around town, and this guy had to have been seen before he got to Noonan's.

    As someone might say, this ain't over bub.