14889/High-speed heists: burnouts and bank jobs

High-speed heists: burnouts and bank jobs
Date of Scene:	24 May 2023
Location:	Gotham
Synopsis:	The high-speed Heist in Gotham moves from the Port to the Freeway. A convoy of Street Demonz, Racers and armoured trucks making a break for it after looting sea containers of some pretty dangerous sorts. A stowaway that's undercover sends out a frantic plea for help and the Birds of Prey are promptly on the scene at speed. High speed duels, risky leaps from vehicle to vehicle, bullets and crossbows are exchanged. The convoy is taken apart piecemeal. The orchestrator of the Heist, the Calculator arrives on scene to try and personally assure success. Whether baited or part of the plan, nothing that evening goes acording to his. Unfortunately for him and his cronies, BatGirl, Batwoman and the Huntress ruin any chance to get away with the goods, or keep their freedom. The GCPD arrive for the aftermath, the threat already eliminated, spinning their wheels or sputtering semi-conscious.
Cast of Characters:	Harper Row, Helena Bertinelli, Kate Kane, Cassandra Cain, Barbara Gordon, Bette Kane

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Harper Row has posed:
Bluebird has asked to bring all the gals together to show off a concern she's got regarding some illegal street racing. It seems there's a link between some pretty high powered vehicles in combination with a planned Heist. A number of wealthy auction houses, banks and richie riches? Without more intel, Bluebird had been using a series of drones and allies to observe and collect data, determining that there was pattern in it somewhere. With asking for a meeting, it seems she was nearing some manner of breakthrough of the cipher they used, and where these meets would take place.

She'd even acquired a funky suped up Van from a Friendly, along with a motorbike, and had shown off the WIP to Huntress at a Bird-friendly garage. She been sweeping it for hidden gear before planting her own, while also wearing the most ridiculous make-up and attire (The vehicles belonging to a gang called the Crash Test Dolly's). If she thought no one was around, she might have even paraded around looking like a cross between Raggedy Anne and a Crash Test Dummy.

Her plan was to be organized. Something to show she's on the ball, motivated, obsessive over details, and have a solid couple of days to show her work and get feedback. Heck, there was even a whiteboard set up in a corner of the clocktower showing where she figured the convoys of crime would flood out from: Port Adams. A major point of Import/Export.

A smattering of photos collected of the notable makes, models and paint jobs. No red threads connecting pins, but one could jokingly draw parallels to some Pepe Silvia memes.

Her show-and-Tell was to happen later ~tonight~. She had made rice crispies snacks. In the clumpy shapes of cars. Seriously, there were Smarties for wheels. But her voice is coming over secure comms right ~now~. It's way too early. Birds of Prey members could be anywhere in the city, or in the Clocktower for the love of Pete.

"Bluebird requesting immediate..." Bonk. The sound of wind past a mic, and some panting. "...Come in, any Birds with ears on?"

Helena Bertinelli has posed:
Huntress was familiar with the mission. She'd been patrolling with Bluebird when they came across some of the earliest street races used as auditions. Having followed up with Bluebird yesterday she was prepared for the meetup tonight.

<<I'm arriving now Bluebird>> comes Huntress' reply. In short order she makes her way into the briefing room in full armor. There was no way she was going to wear that crazy face paint. No. Way.

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate is, of course, going to show up to hear her apprentice out on her concerns about street racing, souped up cars, and some sort of heist. Well, Batwoman is. The wig and cowl and costume of course mean this isn't Kate Kane showing up to bankroll the vigilantes getting totally cool customized personal cars.

Admittedly, part of that is that she's realized most of Gotham's vigilantes that don't drive the Batmobile seem to lean towards bikes. And they already have them. And also most of them can customize them themselves at the clocktower. In fact, she's occupied in the basement of the R.H. Kane building doing a little tune-up on her bike when her synth music cuts out to be replaced by Harper's voice over the comms, and Kate's changing out of greasemonkey chic of jeans and a white ribbed tanktop into her Work Clothes.

Her dear bike isn't fully tuned, but she wasn't in the middle of anything that's going to make it spontaneously detonate, even if it hasn't got its usual networking with her drones and base computer.

<<What's going on, Bluebird? ...Was that a thunk? Was that thunk /your head/?>> Every word's a little more tense, a little more /concerned/.

And a little more muffled by a growing roar that hits a shrieking crescendo as Batwoman practically flies out of the hidden ramp built into a trash-strewn alley, tires squealing as she hits the streets.

She might need to get a jet or... a helicopter or something. Right now following /roads/ seems so goddamn inefficient.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
You have to know the code, to know that Cassandra is about. It's not a response so much as the momentary cutting out of the comms, that is the way she signals a response. It means that she's received the signal and can in some way respond. How exactly she'll do so is always a bit of a challenge to interpret.

You'd think that they hadn't taught her to freaking talk. You know that they have.

What is she doing? Well, that depends on how much trouble Miss Garbled Message is in. See, there's a really fast racing bike that shes just bought, that she actually has managed to not crash. Yet.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Barbara is in the GGE Blimp tonight. She is in 'costume' but she has her cowl off, her red hair draped down behind her shoulders over the fabric of her two toned cape. She's in the command center of the Blimp, running some tests on a variety of ongoing investigations that she's been conducting involving a group of rumored crime bosses trying to shake-down clergy within the city.

She hears the comms light up, and her eyes of green turn away from the blowing holographic display in front of her to look to one of the receivers.

A minute later and Babs' voice chimes over the Birds channel.

"Batgirl in the sky, high high above. What's up tonight?" She asks everyone who's connected.

Bette Kane has posed:
Bette has been absolutely furious for the past day. Ever since Batman's excessively -petty- dismissal. She's barely said a word to anyone. She's barely slept, barely eaten. Flamebird is, apparently, currently fueled by outrage.

Luckily for Bluebird, the Orange Bird was already blasting around Gotham in costume on -her- bike. (The paintjob looks like fire. It's dope as hell.) The comms go live, and her eyes widen behind her half-cowl. "Ha--Bluebird!? Where are you? I'm on my way!"

Her bike roars as she cranks on the throttle. Not that she knows where to go yet, but going fast feels like she's -doing something-.

Harper Row has posed:
Harper's voice comes over Comms. <<...Stupid...friggen...Ow. I didn't need those brain cells anyways.>> A squawl of static and the sounds of thumps and bumps. The sound of an engine is throaty and loud. Harper does a little improvising, adjusting her earpiece.

<<Bluebird at the East-side Docks! I thought we'd have another week. I either got fed a buffet of bullshit...or some...who the hell is...Kuttler?>> She talks like she's downed more than a couple canisters of energy drink.

<<Ivgene Clan, or some remnant, couldn't translate. A couple shipping containers worth of stuff I'm sure I saw. There's a Heist alright...it's happening ~here~, not at a Bank. An underworld bank. I thought maybe the Dockyard Dogs might have coaxed the Street Demonz into...>> Bumpty-bump, a Bluebird grunts as it sounds like whatever she's riding it just trying to go over every possible pothole. <<Street Demonz are muscle for whoever this Kuttler person is that's calling the shots. The Rides and the guns and...>> The sounds of automatic fire make popcorn in the background.

Bonk, tumble, donk. <<We're tearing out of Port Adams! They're gonna make a run for it! Sweet Rob Zombies, it's goddamn loud! They're hauling ass for somewhere! I'm going to try and poke my head up to see which direction...North on Aparno Expressway!>>

Helena Bertinelli has posed:
<<Well. That's unexpected.>> Huntress' voice is tight. Annoyed either with Bluebird's seeming disorganization - or her own failure to establish where they were supposed to meet to brief the team. It wouldn't be the first time she's ever arrived at a conclusion that no one else had.

After a moment to order her thoughts, she replies again, the sound of movement in her voice. <<On my way.>> Detour notwithstanding.

Her bike soon erupts from the tower's hidden garage and is in motion and traveling at excessive speeds to make up for lost time.

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate frowns... which, well, she's in costume. She's always frowning. At best she's thin-lipped and severe looking. But no, she's frowning now. Harper's not supposed to be losing brain cells. That's what the training is for, and if she's getting knocked around now?

More training!

At least Harper gets the location out and Kate only has to break... several traffic laws and risk being hit by a bus to get a direct route towards the docks. <<Maybe they just decided to move the schedule up because they're impatient. Kids these days, you know?>>

Her voice is dry, just a /bit/ of teasing, wheels eating up the road as she keeps an eye out for... god, what the hell is Harper in? It sounds like one of those terrible rental moving vans. Well, okay, it sounds like one of those being unloaded toward with automatic weapons. So like... 50/50 chance if she hears automatic weapon fire around her, it'll be the /right/ automatic weapon fire. And there... she can hear it north of her as she approaches the docks from the south. And since they're on the move already, she'll leave the docks alone for now. They can do the terribly boring CSI stuff /after/ their comrade's not being heisted with ill-gotten goods.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Still no sign of Cassandra. She's signalled, certainly, but if she's around then she's doing her 'nobody can see me nyah!' routine. Still, wherever Harper is? There's suddenly one guy who vanishes without warning. Just, he's there. Then he's not.

What is she doing? Well, that'd be telling. For all I know she's still back at base, fast asleep at comms.

Batman DID tell her not to respond to things without permission, so if she's out she'd have to be in stealth mode..

Barbara Gordon has posed:
At the serious talk of business unfolding far down below in the city, Barbara pushes off in her chair to the computer station behind her pilot's station. The wheels of her chair rooooooooooooooooll across the smooth floor of the Blimp's control room. Her gloved hands impact on the edge of the station behind her previous one, as she catches herself. There a display of the city is visible on a big glass HUD that the A.I. of the Oracle system is already highlighting key parts spoken by the other Bird's members. It is already tracking them, and what Blue Bird was indicating.

"Okay, I'm monitoring from up above." Babs says over the team coms. "You're all spread out, but coming together rapidly. I'll adjust street lights to make sure you get nothing but greens." She tells them, a perk of her abilities with the computer systems of the city.

Bette Kane has posed:
Bette redlines her bike, cranking the throttle as hard as it can go. She probably breaks more traffic laws than Kate. When the location comes through, Flamebird engages in Maximum Stupid Driving. This includes drifting around corners, ignoring signs and signals (before Babs fixes them, anyway), and taking risky shortcuts that involve sweet jumps over stacks of debris and trash.

Soon enough, she races alongside the expressway, but there are no on ramps. Not that this matters. Flamebird roars her bike up the concrete embankment, racing along the narrow precipice on the outside of the guard rail before she just jerks the bike and bashes through the steel at speed. She nearly loses control, but thankfully doesn't reduce herself to a greasy smear.

On the expressway, she pushes every bit of speed she can to catch up to the rolling firefight.

Harper Row has posed:
The criminal convoy is large and obnoxious. There are three armoured cars, like a legit bank would use to haul wealth, and it looks like they've been pimped out. They don't bear any symbols of any legit security company. Acting as outriders are a biker gang that looks reminescent of the notorious Street Demonz. Biker leather, body armour, riding phat hogs and zippy crotch rockets. The difference in bikes akin to the stereotypical duo of tough bulldog with yappy terrier sidekick. Glistening urban street sharks, armed to the teeth, the roads their ocean currents. Civilians are peeling off if they have any sense, little fishies trying to avoid the carnivores. Not all drivers are quite aware of the danger until it's almost crawling up their tailpipes. The dozen or so Bikes are nimble enough to avoid collisions, and they're not shy about expending a few rounds to urge civilians to take the next exit or veer off.

The armoured trucks surge forward, clipping fenders, barging through, and not even bothering with Pit manuevers. Someone with the benefit of elevation could spot the flickering muzzle flashes and the chaotic flow to the Expressway. And something very curious happening with the streetlights near Robbinsville and Old Gotham. A flickering, strobing of traffic signals as if someone was trying to prepare the way for the convoy themselves.

Some very, very colourful street racers are amongst the vehicles tearing along. They ride at the rear, and while they're not firing off weapons, their vehicles are dangerous, and maximum stupid driving is very much in their wheelhouse tonight. They weave back and forth like the tail on some dangerous segmented creature. A veritable obstacle course in motion, all bright lights, loud sounds and sounds systems that pulse with a frequency that rattles windows. With the arrival of heroes on the scene, they concentrate their efforts of being absolute road hogs.

These street racing vehicles run the gamut of popular makes and models: Ford Mustangs, Mazda MX-5's, and E-Jaguar's...oh my. Half a dozen of the bozo's. Quick glances suggest significant modifications beyond being merely street not-legal. Those intakes would be better suited for low altitude aircraft, or a Batmobile. The tires look tough. The windshields carry a polarized gleam. The glow of components ranging from pale orange to green winking behind grills and bathing the undersides ~could~ be aesthetics. The tenor of the engines varies, depending on whether the vehicle is one big honking battery or gobbles liquid fuel. Together, they blend into a sonic soup of growls and whines.

While their rides are different, they're all suited up on body suits like one would wear in the stands watching Sportsball. Orange, stretchy, crash-test Dummies, with the yellow and black circle markers over their eyes and mouth. Charming stuff.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
Weirdly, still no sign of Cass. The bikes are doing things, the vehicles are being fun and interesting. Lights are lighting the place up, and you gotta assume that there's nobody stupid enough to think they can get in close. Not on a show this Barnum Cirus-ey. One wonders what the actual play is, since this is so obviously a distraction or a power play.

It's such a big show that you might miss the small stuff. Like, when a biker passes under a street sign, and suddenly seems to be a different rider. Same outfit, but close enough that it could be a trick of the light. Nobody's looking too closely at anybody else, not right now. So long as they keep driving the same as before.

Helena Bertinelli has posed:
<<Thanks for the assist, Oracle>> Huntress offers appreciatively. It gives her a chance to arrive on scene before it's all over. Then again as she catches up to the end of the convoy she frowns. <<Who are these people? They have the worse taste in fashion. Is.. that a -Lada-?>> she asks incredulously at the clearly "vintage" Russian four-door sedan someone has chosen to try and modifiy. Apparently well enough it can keep pace with the convoy.

<<Bluebird what vehicle are you in? What's the plan?>> Because the original plan didn't call for chasing down a teammate pinballing around inside one of the convoy vehicles. At least Huntress is pretty sure that was never the plan. Time for Plan B?

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate is so very proud when she spots Bette blazing in just ahead of her... well, proud of Bette. A little concerned her tune-up job on her bike /has/ made it a little slower. Still, it's fast enough.

And Kate's definitely not going to question the street racers and their choice of fine late-century Soviet automobiles, <<Okay, no one hit that thing too hard... don't they explode because of subpar gas tanks? Was that the Gremlin? No, no, it was a Ford, right?>>

There's a frustrated sigh from Kate. Only in Gotham. <<Alright, so... we... should probably try to take the cars out without any catastrophic vehicular damage, right? These guys don't seem like they're the kind to break speed limits but obey seatbelt laws.>>

Kate's bike revs up as she heads towards the back of the pack. At least the bike's autopilot still works, so when she picks a car to jump onto, her bike will just follow. Always handy.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
The GGE Blimp is on the case. Slowly. But the good thing about that is nobody really notices the Blimp ever making its way toward an active situation, because very few people look up, and because it moves so slowly over the city that it doesn't telegraph its intentions. It just lazily flies overhead, on an intercept course.

"Birds." Babs' voice speaks up. "Looks like we got a rival tech at-play here. They're trying to manipulate the traffic lights too. I'm going to allow it, but monitor it to make sure they don't do anything that can add to the dangers for civilians." She states. "I'm informing the GCPD, and emergency responders to prepare for potential casualties in this. But the streets are going to be clear, or should be, so you're free to engage them, whatever you need to do to stop them in their tracks."

All of this is said as Barbara works on the keyboard in the tech station of the Blimp's command center, her visage illuminated in dull blue'white light from the big HUD display in front of her, her eyes glancing up to it to watch everyone's indicators moving through the city in real-time.

From beneath the Blimp, a squad of Bat-drones deploys, their little engines humming as they move in a diamond formation down toward the street to get HD footage of the situation, each drone fanning out further apart the closer they get to the vehicles down below.

Bette Kane has posed:
<<That's a Pinto, Batwoman,>> Bette replies snarkily. She's in a mood, it seems. Whether it's desperation, shortcuts or she's just tweaked her bike to squeeze every ounce of horsepower and torque she can out of it is hard to tell.

Maybe she's too emotionally invested in this.

She zips -into- the pack, racing her bike towards the trailing armored car. She fires on the autopilot and pulls a grapple gun from her belt, firing the line up to the vehicle and zipping up. Unlike Kate, her bike veers off and parks itself. She's stuck, but that's just fine. Flamebird busies herself hunting for a hatch, ducking the expected gunfire.

Harper Row has posed:
Harpers voice comes over the comms again. <<We're about to blast past Robbinsville! They've gotta go West soon or we're all going for a swim!>> A pause and she's pawing her way past a bouncing jostling crate to peer out the reinforced glass of the rear window. <<Oh thank frig.>> She's spotted the cavalry. <<I'm in the second truck. They're still talking about this Kuttler guy like he's brilliant or something. Calculation this, calculation that...Maybe he's in the lead loot Truck. I'm kinda squashed, trying to find a hatch to squeeze out of!>>

The Street racers don't have the discipline of some of the more organized bad dudes. They're hot dogging goofs, but with the best toys. They're probably even trying to TikTok it. There's some collatoral damage as they even accidentally trade paint with one another. To make a egg salad sammich of a bird, they're willing to give it a go. They have some skill, are risk takers and have a goal to interfere. Some of the idiots do have companions in the passenger side filming. Poking phones up to open windows to get the best shots, feeling confident their speed will outrun consequences. They're very wrong. They just don't know how talented and skilled are the Birds of Prey with traffic surfing and feats of daring. The trucks and vehicles do have handholds, tenuous, and lovely to challenge one's current grip strength. There are some hatches and intakes aboard the armoured trucks, big enough for a fist, not large enough for a person unless they can blow it or beat the keypad.

The Bikers up ahead have been alerted to the presence of the Birds. They wave on the Trucks, though it's not like they're already pushing the pedal to the metal. The Bikers prepare for a fight, submachineguns wedged against the crook of elbows or trying to Terminator one-hand their spray-n-pray guns. One of their number checks in with their buddy, to discover they've been replaced. The shock delays the raising of their firearm, but they telegraph it as clearly as a billboard advertisement for Gotham Granola that whisks past on the side of the Expressway.

The Huntress garners the whooping attention of the Street Racers, and it is a dogpile of attention as they try to run her into the side barriers or right off the road. One which may even be bearing Kate aloft. There's a lot of shouts and pointing. It is very definitely a circus. The Street Demonz have a bit more discipline, but less compassion if that's possible. They fire off rounds towards the vigilantes, uncaring of the sparks and bullet holes they make in the street racers. It seems there's a bit of expedibility going on. Bullets whistle and whine past the Birds of Prey, ricocheting off the concrete and asphalt.

Helena Bertinelli has posed:
Veering and swirving to avoid getting run over or forced into a parked car like some clueless dog chasing cars, Huntress frowns. <<I'm going weapons free.>> Which means right now she really isn't worried about whether she makes a kill shot or just a take-down shot.

Pulling one of her crossbows she has to lay on the brakes just as one of the cars cuts right across her path only to slam itself into a parked truck.

<<One down. Didn't even have to shoot them.>>

Falling back in behind the next vehicle, she aims and fires a bolt into the trunk lid. After a second the bolt explodes, lifting the rear wheels off the road and causing the car to turn sharply and begin tumbling like something out of a post-apocalyptic race movie. But before she can confirm it, another car has managed to pull in behind her and has gotten close enough to nearly ram her bike's rear tire.

Kate Kane has posed:
The bullets sparking off the asphalt don't worry Kate for herself, between the armor in her suit, the poor aim of the criminals, and the fact that she's somehow /more/ comfortable getting shot at in costume than not just makes this another day at the office. Better than a day at the office because she isn't allowed to use explosives at the actual office.

Bike screaming, Kate's using that famed Bat ingenuity to make due with what she's got. Plenty of micro explosive charges, great for breaking down doors, shattering glass windows, definitely not for use on people. But cars aren't people.

That one movie series, they're big humanoid robots in disguise, but she hasn't heard a _single_ one of these cars go 'WONWONWONWONWONNNNN' and turn into a robot. So clearly the cars are fair target, Kate closing distance on one car, arm sweeping out... with seemingly no effect. She does it a couple more times to a couple more cars. Still nothing.

<<Okay, look out for the cars in back, they're about to have some mechanical trouble.>>

She hits a button on the throttle of her bike and with a series of rapid fire bangs, the cars do indeed have mechanical troubles. It turns out that cars need _wheels_, and wheels need to be on the axel and... okay, Kate blew up a lot of very delicate suspension bits. Just a couple wheels on each car... they're just the ones that each car uses for actual propulsion. <<Wait, really? Pinto? I really thought it started with an F... what am I even..." She trails off into a low grumbling. Its one of those all too human things, some thought unformed in her head that seems like she should be able to recall it... and here she is unable to figure it out.

Oh well, maybe it'll come to her... because there's a couple more cars up ahead that still have _all their wheels_.

That won't do.

Cassandra Cain has posed:
And that's when that one bike swerves, getting a bit closer to the one that spotted the replacement. The fire from Kate has effects, and the bikes are easy prey. A sideswipe later and he's angling off, trying to regain control before...nope! His bike hits a curb and flips, and he's sent off like a shuriken into the bushes! Really hope he can land that kind of roll, or he's gonna feel that in the morning.

Anyone watching would see the bike remaining wobble, then be forced to go in front of Harper's truck! It tips, unstable, and then the bike goes over, the rider vanishing beneath the wheels.

Was...that Cass? If so she just died under those tires, the truck jumping and crunching as it drives over the fallen motorcycle.

It might be a bit of a tense moment, but just shortly afterward Harper would find that the back hatch seems to have come open. Freedom!

Who was that masked rider?

Barbara Gordon has posed:
The gunfire at-play here tonight really elevates the situation to a whole new level of danger. In response to this, Batgirl's drones coming in activate a counter-attack. Each one starts to fire off electrically charged pellet rounds that burst when they impact with something. Each drone is armed with quite a few of these rounds, and each one is fiering them at the gunmen that the drones have ID'd on their cameras.

This is a two-fold hope, one being the obvious of potentially disabling active shooters, and the second being getting those active shooters to look UP, and maybe shoot UP at the drones too, and not down at Batgirl's Birds.

"Bastards." Babs mutters to herself when the guns came in to play.

Over Birds comms she speaks up then. "It looks like they're headed toward Trigate Bridge. I'm informing GCPD, they should be able to amass on the opposite side of the bridge, to stop them from going any further."

Of course, that's just a hope...

Bette Kane has posed:
Atop the armored truck, Bette works at the hatch. It wiggles, so it's not welded down, but it's certainly locked. She grimaces. "Of course they locked it. Why can't criminals just be dumb as hell?"

She pats her belt and pulls a squeezable tube from a pouch. She pops the cap and starts squeezing the grey substance out around the lip of the hatch, concentrating some extra where the hinges are. She uses the whole tube too. Slipping the empty away, she pulls what looks like a probe out, sticking it into the goo before she skitters back to the edge of the truck, ducking whizzing bullets.

She clicks a button on her belt, triggering the electric discharge of the potent taser dart, grinning like a maniac.

Then the goo explodes violently, launching the hatch lid off into the distance. Bette crawls to the hatch, puts on her best sultry voice and hops inside.

"Hi boys."

Then there is smoke billowing from the open hatch.

Harper Row has posed:
Highway chaos!


The vehicles that Kate hamstrings, their expensive suspension and axles peppered with explosives, will give motorheads conciption fits. The precision engineering into those lovely parts totally mangled, though their passengers and drivers less so. There's no soft landing for the crash test dummies that ragdoll within harnesses or seats.

Similar to the vicious take-downs of the Huntress' crossbow bolts that blast hoods and send shrapnel through grills and windshields. The loss of that armoured truck, one of three, has radio chatter from the racers and bikers rising to a panic.

The disabling rounds from the deployed drones are highly effective against the bikers and those along for the ride. Some of the bigger meatheads may need more than one, but they're only human. Those not outright sent into a palsy and jittering mess and sliding along the asphalt, raise their weapons to Batgirl's inhuman minions, sweeping their fire up and across the night sky to try and take them down. The chaos of having to divert their attentions don't equate to precision driving, and soon the highway is a series of sweeping and roaring motorcycle careening back and forth, sometimes directly infront of street racer accomplices and the two armoured trucks, one of which has been invaded and is smoking something fierce.

Harper's pale face, painted up to look like one of convoy, appears at the mysteriously opening rear door of one of the trucks. She swings out with the door, hanging onto the handle for dear life. "Holy friiiiig!" she yells. Within is a tightly packed interior of stolen loot, lashed haphardly down with cargo bands. Must have been an uncomfortable place to stow away.

One particular voice has more gain than the convoy. A snaggle-toothed fast-talker that seems to embody an Abacus made sentient. Click-clack lick'n smack, not a Gotham accent. It carries a snide bite that can rise to eardrum bleeding levels of disapproval. Those in close enough proximity to the remaining bikers and armoured cars (or snooping in via clever means) profess how unfair it is to have their pay for this job reduced by 1/3. They do this colourfully, only to be bludgeoned by that voice.

"~You have exactly...three minutes to get to the bridge. Three! Minutes! Two minutes and forty-three seconds now! Hey morons! Have you got your seatbelts on? Think you can remember to strap in before hitting the big red button, yeeeeeah?! Yeah?! Oh you lousy, you lousy knuckle-dragging...Oh...Oh my god.~" A pause of empty channel. "Oh you bitches! You're killing me! You're ruining all my...Fuckin bitches! I can recalculate. I can do it! Don't think I can't fucking doooooo it! Hit the buttons now! Now now now! Fuckin floor it you apes!~"

From the sides of both armoured cars, vents swing out and push out two cylindrical pods. They starts to spin up. At their rears, pinpoints of orange light expands like the iris of an infernal demigod and the distortion of heat wash.

An eye in the sky would see a dynamic duo of trucks hauling flatbeds are heaving themselves up onto the highway, well ahead of the convoy, and closer to the bridge. The warning has sent squad cars to try to set up a road block, but these trucks are heading directly for them.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Barbara hadn't been directly 'in the fight' herself, but she was commanding the situation from above in the GGE Blimp. The birds aerial headquarters.

But being up high doesn't mean she can't directly effect the playfield, so to speak. Case in point, from seemingly out of no where the loud roaring rumble of a powerful vehicle can be heard, and the presence of the Batgirl-mobile leaps in to the streetway headed toward the bridge. On auto-pilot the sportier version of Batman's car, run by Babs from high above, trundles rapidly on to the pavement as its fat tires turn at high rates of speed, propelling the car ahead of the convoy headed for the bridge.

"I'm going to try and keep it from getting on to that damn bridge, even if the GCPD can't." Babs says from either inside the car, or still in the Blimp... it can be hard to tell where she is sometimes!

Either way, the Babsmobile skids to a screeeching stop before the mouth of the bridge, and falls silent... a second later a large cannon bursts up out of the top of the well armored black vehicle, and it rotates around to prime itself aimed at the direction the convoy is coming toward the bridge...

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate does /not/ lose control of her bike when that voice starts crackling over the radio, no matter how ear-piercingly shrill it is, no matter how tight her jaw clenches.

She barely even has to pull a few dramatic turns nearly laying her bike down to avoid various pieces of debris and a bit of gunfire, just to make sure she doesn't scratch her bike's paint of course. ...Sure, it's going to wind up chipped and scratched anyway. But not by these punks. They don't deserve to scratch her bike's paint.

When the truck's door is opening, Kate's gaze flicks, locks... and she might do a little doubletake when she recognizes Harper's figure. Batwoman's bike revs up, closing ground behind the truck as Babs announces her intention to stop the convoy from getting on the bridge. "You're not going to blow the bridge up, right?"

What? It's a valid question. Kate would be considering blowing the bridge up, if she'd brought more ordinance, but she's used most of her meaningful explosives already wrecking up some custom cars. Plus, there's no way they would have been enough to blow up a bridge. But Babs is special. Babs has plans on plans on plans.

Babs could have a plan to blow up the bridge is all she's saying.

Helena Bertinelli has posed:
Helena Bertinelli is racing along with the madness, managing to avoid when various cars wreck. This is probably a good thing for her health and well-being even if the Birds have a pretty good medical plan.

Weaving past still more wreckage as the insane, screaming, berating voice continues to browbeat the minions that it clearly hired to pull off what seems like an impossible job now.

"Well this is getting interesting, isn't it?" she asks in a relaxed tone. Like the others, this sort of chaos is what she has become good at.

"I do have to ask: -how- are you going to stop them, Oracle? There are armored cars and big rigs in the mix." The sheer tonnage and momentum involved defies logic. Unless.

"You're.. not. Please say you're not going to blow up the bridge."

Why does everyone automatically assume Barbara is going straight for massive destruction of property?

Harper Row has posed:
The twin trucks, their long angled rears, veritable ramps, thunder down the highway. By degrees they come side-by-side, smoke belching from their exhaust pipes into Gotham's night air. Their headlights appear first. Two sets of luminecent eyes and a lion's mane of running lights. They definitely intend to reach the bridge, and if the sight of the Babsmobile is s deterent, it's not slowing them.

"~Oh you wanna play?! Oh do you wanna! Okay! Okay! O-kay!" There is a fierce amount of muttering as mental computations leak out of frothing lips. A cackle. "Tighten up boys! The Bat wants to play chicken! Keep it together for the morons behind ya!"

With a huge body count in terms of moving vehicles already littering the freeway behind them, there's less than half the outriders and street racers able to pose a threat to the Birds. And Babs' stunning drones have helped divert most of the bullets flying towards Gotham's vigilantes. Harper's body flings on the end of the door a little this a-way, and then a little that-away. At the apex of a swing, she stares at Batwoman closing the distance and tries to judge her moment. "Taxi!"

Up near the driver's seat, there's a major commotion as Bette probably does some up close and personal introductions to those she's dropped in on. An unholy amount of smoke streams from behind the windows and the Truck begins the to swerve. In combination with whatever propulsion is being deployed on these tricked out trucks it becomes harder to stay aboard. With a shout, Harper flings herself with as much momentum as she can, carried along by the arc of the door, and soars towards the back of Kate's bike.

One of the Street Demonz swerves to avoid the careening truck, but winds up getting sandwiched between both of the armored vehicles, and the the bike and riders go ass over teakettle between Huntress and Batwoman, their curses stolen by the wind soaring past. That one smoke-filled armored truck over-corrects one too many times and it curves dramatically up ahead to slam onto its side with fountains of sparks where the chassis meets the road. Momentum carries it for quite awhile before everyone overtakes the carcass.

The remaining armoured truck tries to surge forward into the lead.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Is Babs planning to blow up the bridge?

She doesn't answer. She does smirk though, wherever she is right now.

From that cannon atop the Babsmobile, its central receiver twirls as it cycles ammunition, then it raises up just a little, and begins firing... at the ground between the incoming heavy hauylers and the Babsmobile itself!

A braying sound of fire bursts from the cannon, followed by the explosion of smoke pellets against the pavement. A wall of smoke will rise up on the concrete leading toward the bridge, creating a veritable wall of visual blocking puffs of white fog!

Barbara triggerse a program string on her computer terminal next, which leads to a signal sent in to the GC Traffic and Alert Systems, causing a series of concrete pylons to snap up out of the ground, and stand proud within the smoke... each one standing about five feet u.

It was an old project put in to place in the late 2ks that got voted out of being ever used in the mid 2k-teens. Since then, these concrete pylons have gone mostly forgotten as a traffic deterrent.

Meanwhile the squadron of Bat-drones do continue to fly in the air above the convoy as they will continue to take pot shots with stun weapons toward anymore gunmen who dare to fire openly out of their vehicles.

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate's really beginning to grow weary of street racers. Can't they just... realize they're not going to win? They don't have a set theme beyond 'street racer', and in a city where you need to have a gang of luchadores, or guys dressed in 50/50 fabric splits, or... whatever the hell Penguin makes his goons do to all match, that's just not unified enough to be inspiring. It's total bush league.

But it's also something that involves tons of speeding metal and glass, and means that Kate's got to be careful with every car she takes down to make sure it doesn't go cartwheeling around killing people.

And then one of the Street Demonz is doing his part to be a cautionary tale to the rest by being pancaked by two armored trucks and then... well, he's fine. Probably. Probably fine.

Kate's a little too occupied to check on him though. For one thing, he's not moving as fast as the unfolding rolling chaos, and for another she's got a Harper to catch.

Or at least a Harper to make sure she doesn't make landing on the bike any more difficult, she even keeps any evasive motions to a minimum as Harper flings herself through the air and Kate provides sturdy support to hang onto once she's... well, at least mostly landed on the bike.

Once she's on, Kate's hitting the brakes, and with /two/ women on the bike, the back wheel doesn't even fully leave the pavement as tires squeal and smoke billows... because Babs fired a smokescreen up ahead, and Kate's going to make sure there's a couple car lengths behind the trucks going into it. And not going full speed ahead.

Just in case there's, oh, giant concrete security pylons in the smoke or something. Really, Kate's expecting the 'something' more than the pylons specifically.

Helena Bertinelli has posed:
As the already chaotic event continues to degenerate into still more chaos, Huntress some how manages to avoid becoming just another injury statistic racking up its wake.

When the wrecking bike plus bodies seem to pinwheel backwards between her bike and Kate's, she spares a glance to the other woman. Her brow raises in reflection on just how much that has to hurt. Better them than us.

As the wall of smoke is deployed, even her oft reckless self calculates the measure of danger involved is too high this time. Letting off the throttle and braking hard to let the convoy sling itself onward at its own peril.

Harper Row has posed:
"~She's fuckin bluffing!~" The voice is triumphant. It giggles, cackles and there's the jaw-hinging, rubber-lip sputtering of more calculations. "~News flash, toots! I know this route! I planned it all, I know all the deets! Shut up Larry...you do as I say! Keep going! You hit the brakes in 30 seconds. You hear me? Plenty of mass to smash...and then...~" Marble-mouthed heavy breathing. "~Yes! Yes! Rubber to road ration, carries us...you we coast in with residual kinetic energy to potential, halt and lower the ramp. No time for trophy picking. Yeah, I'm sure! Look I got it all worked o-~"

There is a sudden cessation of forward movement as the big trucks hauling ramps plow into those obscured pilons. It's like the earth cracking apart, or a pair of massive bells having been pushed out of the top towers of Notre Dame. The heavy truck cabs stop, and one of their towed ramps jump their own hitch to go spinning like a happy dolphin up and down onto the freeway yards ahead. The other ramp jams solidly up against the truck.

The armoured Truck, the only survivor so far of the three, hits their big red button. The Calculator said to. The trucks are up ahead. They need more speed, a bit of a boost. The ramps will be right ahead, somewhere past all that smoke.

Harper grabs onto Kate and wraps her arms around her midsection, peering with wide eyes over her shoulder at the armoured truck pretending to be a rocket. "I'm alive. I'm alive." she rasps as she catches her breath. She peers over towards the Huntress and her rictus grin gets wider, if still a bit frantic. No obvious bullet holes on anyone in view, though she swears she heard Flamebird pummelling someone earlier.

That last armoured Truck must be feeling like the chosen one as its occupants are pushed back into their seats with the huge unnatural burst of acceleration from the extra propulsion. They scream, their boosters scream, and they dive into the smoke like they were trying to go move through time. Visible to everyone is their reappearance...soaring, smoke trailing them like a greedy wraith had spectral fingers clinging to their bumper. They've hit a ramp alright, but too soon, and at the wrong angle. Their boosters cut out, winking and flickering, and the apex of their flight is rather brief. Their trajectory does not deliver them from justice at all.

The remaining street racers and bikers can be counted on one hand, and none of them are in any condition to fight. Some aren't even upright. Those that are try to limp away or turn their vehicles around.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
"Be advised, the traffic pylons are engaged inside the smoke." Batgirl's voice informs her team moments before the carnage occurrs.

At least she's nice enough to let her Birds know, right? Of course she is! Trust in Babs, believe in Babs!

The carnage that does take place is rather impressive a sight too, and it's one that Batgirl gets a front row view of, as she's there when the smoke starts to disperse.

She's standing atop her car, her black and dark gold lined cape flowing around her armored body, her red hair sweeping off to the right behind her shoulders.

She just motionlessly towers atop her car, standing beside that cannon that had fired off the smoke rounds in to the pavement moments earlier.

As the crashed vehicles begin to settle, Batgirl's green eyes just roam around the aftermath of it all, with the smoke from her cannon spreading out around her as it finds itself mixing in to the Gotham winds.

The sound of the GCPD sirens can be heard all around the city now, as a contingent has setup a blockade all the way on the far side of the bridge.

Kate Kane has posed:
Kate revs the bike up in the wake of rending metal and crashing sound, ears not quite ringing... certainly, still working enough to pick up Harper's mantra. And chime in.

"For now!"

Kate Kane. Role model. Motivational speaker.

Kate's tires squeal as she handles her bike from 'slower than insane speed' to 'actually stopping' because that last truck roars to life, hits the ramp and... does about as good as Kate does whenever she tries to play one of those newfangled open world video games. Which is to say that yes, they hit the ramp.

And the ramp hits back, as it were. "...Do you think they didn't think it was about family enough to defy physics? I'm pretty sure that's how that works."

Kate's head tilts, gaze roaming over the remaining street racers. Engine revs again, like she's twisting the throttle in thought, considering whether or not they're worth chasing down. Or maybe just seeing if the bike revving will scare them off.

Helena Bertinelli has posed:
Helena Bertinelli rolls to a stop just in time to admire the scene. It's right out of Furious and Furiouser: This Time They're Really Angry About Family - Part 4. That is to say that there is gratuitous carnage of the vehicular sort that defies logic and gravity. It's really quite impressive.

"You know? I didn't think it was possible for an armored car to disassemble itself into parts that small" she wonders aloud as she leans her forearms against the handlebars of her bike.

As the fishy breeze blowing off Gotham harbor starts to push the smokey haze away from the bridge, the silhouette of an ominous Batcowl and Cape standing atop the Babsmobile can be seen. Backlit by GCPD's spotlights at the other end of the bridge where "their" roadblock was positioned, Batgirl's shadow is magnified against the smoke to look three or four times bigger.

"You know? Even Batman would have to admire this moment." Not that he'd probably admit it.

"So. Time to bat clean-up? Or is it Wine O'Clock? I vote for that. Just saying."