19846/Shots Fired

Shots Fired
Date of Scene:	11 January 2025
Location:	Ryker's Island
Synopsis:	Longshot and Deadshot meet in jail and stage a breakout.
Cast of Characters:	Longshot, Floyd Lawton

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Longshot has posed:
Longshot was successfully arrested, a few days go, and today is being transferred to Ryker Penitentiary.
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Keeping vigilantes that assist in the arrest of criminals and the criminals they helped arrest in the same jail is ill-advised. Yet, for the brief 12-ish hours where Longshot did exist in the same jail as the hired hands that had attempted a hostage negotiation with the members of a NYC historical society, things were surprisingly civil. In fact, both Longshot and the men involved in the shoot-down at Gramercy Park Hotel seemed content to ignore each other's existence. It was Not something as little as interpersonal violence nor concerns about fights between the groups that was the cause of Longshot's transfer to Ryker.

Longshot himself has been a very amicable and an easy inmate, in each of the jails he has been held in prior to today's transfer. All things considered, being in jail wasn't so bad. Longshot had some expectations about being arrested that did not appear to be true, much to his relief! This would be far less pleasant if he was chained to a wall or a machine or tied up or bound in any way. This would be far less pleasant without the bunk bed and toiletries and someone in the cell with him to chat with. And there was food regularly! Why he expected to be alone and chained or bound or denied basic necessities in addition to being behind bars is not considered, and the odd the familiarity with being kept somewhere far more against his will was shaken off quickly on that first day arrested. He was a model inmate. Happy to make friends in the yard and joke with guards who looked at him. It is Not Longshot's Behavior that caused Longshot's transfer to Ryker today.

Longshot has been transferred to Ryker because his existence in any jail in New York in the past few days has been almost instantly disruptive to the operation of that location. How, is not clear. Hours of footage at each facility will show that Longshot does Not appear to Do anything directly objectionable. He seems to get along with everyone or at least tolerated by everyone, if not outright liked. He always does as he is told without need of force or even threats of force. However, Things Keep Happening around him.

Things disruptive to a working jail.

The first night in jail, his cell didn't seem to lock quite right, resulting in hours of him wandering the halls conveniently at moments the guards are looking the other way or moving on, and ending up outside of a room holding an inmate on suicide watch unfortunately being left alone. The video capturing the event shows Longshot letting himself into the holding cell with the sleeping guard's keys and spending the next few hours til dawn talking with the man within. The conversation is innocuous, the worrisome thing is that Longshot managed to do this without tripping a single alarm, being noticed by a single guard, and seemingly without trying to. At no point does he appear to be sneaking, at no point does he appear to be trying to avoid detection. All cameras agree, he seemed to be wandering randomly and without intention of leaving. Had he chosen to leave rather than becoming best friends with a man in mental distress, there would have been apparently no way to stop him. The guards who were supposed to be on suicide watch were repremanded and Longshot was sent to a different jail.

Longshot has posed:
Longshot did, on his second night in a new coop, somehow end up with the keys to his block and go about letting everyone out. They then had a bright idea and Longshot led them to the kitchen unbothered and the whole block made popcorn and watched the Christmas movie Die Hard. Exactly 2 hours and 11 minutes later, coincidently the exact runtime of Die Hard, they were discovered arguing about the realism at the ending of the movie and ordered back to their cells. Facility cameras caught Longshot in the act of picking up conveniently dropped keys and going about the whole business, but beyond this. He does not Appear to be doing anything to make things happen. He never does.

At the third jail, Longshot finally scared people and that he might not be an appropriate inmate for a normal jail gets through the paper bureaucracy that has luckily been caught up on the fact he doesn't appear to have existed until recently and has refused or claimed to not know any useful information about his lack of existence. In the yard today, a goblin-nation member who Longshot assisted in the arrest of a week ago recognized him.

What happened next is far too fast for the cameras in the facility to record, but the man attempted to pick a fight with Longshot. Longshot didn't touch the man, didn't so much as flinch at the swing of a first punch, as if he didn't expect the hit to land, but the man ended up on the ground, clutching his chest and gasping for breath. A minor pace-maker malfunction, easy to fix once he was in medical. The large number of witnesses of Longshot Not Doing Anything and his aggressor spontaneously being struck down by a medical anomaly? That alone was scary, but what made the whole situation too much for the correctional facilities of NYC to handle was the fact that the moment the man hit the ground, Longshot started apologizing and he didn't stop until sent to solitary and informed of his transfer to Ryker.

Ryker is much more like what Longshot was expecting when originally arrested. The place is, in a word, bleak. Grey stone concrete of the holding cells for recent transfers are cold, mostly bare, and patrolled by far more individuals with far more fire-power than the jails previously enjoyed. The location even smells like distress and hopelessness. The buildings radiate anger. The holding cells are small, chilled and unpleasant.

Once being delivered to the holding cell while paperwork is processed, Longshot seems to expect the handcuffs to be removed. When they are not, he remains at the door and watches the disgruntled guards who brought him leave. The handcuffs are rattled and twisted lightly before Longshot immediately retreats to the back wall and sits down.

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton is seated on a cold metal bench in the holding cell, up against the back wall and currently Longshot's only cellmate. Floyd belongs in jail far more than Longshot. Most notably, he has a body count in at least the triple digits, most of which he killed for money or out of self defense although, more recently, he's killed quite a few on the government's dime. Of course, that part is top secret and so, when he ends up getting arrested, he has to wait for the transfer papers to take him back to Belle Reeve where he'll be unshackled and go back to playing cards with King Shark.

Fucker always cheats.

He has a thick black mustache over a small mouth, his black hair slicked straight back on top of his head. His body is lean muscle, dressed in the orange jumpsuit of a prisoner, his hands shackled and resting in his lap.

He watches Longshot be led in with the empty gaze of an actual sociopath, the clank of locks being put in place leaving the two men along in the confines of the cell for now.

"Jail ain't a good place for pretty boys, son," he says. "But you don't seem too scared, which means you can either take care of yourself or you're dumb as a rock."

Longshot has posed:
Longshot's head tips to the side to look at his companion and will offer a smile, perhaps not as bright a thing as outside these walls, but a smile nonetheless. Someone here is willing to be friends, it would seem, and Longshot is always happy for friends, "I don't know-Until now, I've really enjoyed being in jail. Kinda like a vacation with a lot more opportunities to talk to people, you know?" He shrugs, waving out toward the rest of the facility in general, "It's kind of hard to think here though. A lot harder than the other jails. It's-"

Longshot visible struggles for a word, attention flitting momentarily back to the handcuffs. Click-ching, click-ching. Ching. Ching.

"This is a really angry place. Really sad, lots of sad people here and-" He blinks, sighs, and looks back to Floyd with a huge amount of unearned trust, "They didn't tell me, Is a penitentiary different from a jail? Is my lawyer going to be upset about this? I've been really trying to be reasonable about all of this until something happens with the paperwork, but It's Really Hard To Think Here. It's Everywhere."

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton knows the system inside and out, having been in and out of it long since before he could drink or vote or smoke cigarettes. Jesus, he wants a cigarette real bad. Stupid modern jails and their bullshit pansy rules.

"You're in limbo now. Ain't been sentenced yet, just arrested. They put is in Riker's temporarily cause this is New York and the system's more congested than a fat boy's arteries," he says.

"We'll both be seeing judges soon enough, if we're here. I'll get shipped off back to federal prison and you'll get...whatever you get," he says.

"I dunno, man, ain't much of anybody happy to be locked up. Food sucks, you can't smoke, no chicks, got nothing to do but lift weights and try not to get shanked. Not that anybody tries me much anymore. My reputation precedes."

"What're you in for?"

Longshot has posed:
Click-clack-ching. Click-clack. Ching-Ching. Click-Ching.

"I was arrested days ago, but they need some sort of paper to prove I exist." The tone implies this is a ridiculous idea, and Longshot doesn't care nor understand the system in the slightest. "Something about a 'permanent address' or 'past legal names'- I don't know. Sentencing delayed a few times. Is prison different from jail?"

If asked a few days ago 'what are you in for', Longshot's confused response would have been 'I'm in for what?' However, he's had the conversation enough times to understand that this ambiguous lingo was specific to being arrested and the real question was about why he was arrested. He didn't understand why he wasn't allowed to ask other people this, but that it was polite to ask back if someone else asked him first. No reputation but being generally charismatic has still meant that Jail has been educational on all sorts of new social structures.

"I helped interrupt a hostage situation and stabbed some people. What did you do?" This response has, in the past, gotten better reactions than 'I occasionally assist vigilanties and didn't want my friend arrested'. "I'm Longshot, by the way! And you are, Mister?"

Click-clack-ching.

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton snorts, "Longshot, huh? Well, Longshot, I'm Deadshot. But you can call me Floyd," he says.

"My rap sheet's longer'n my dick and lemme tell you, that sucker's long," he says. "This time, though, I shot a couple of scientists over at the university. I think they invented something dangerous. I didn't really listen when they told me, it's not like I give a shit about the why. I get paid, they get dead, that's how it works. The rest ain't my problem."

He grits his teeth a bit at the clinking chains, "Stop messin' with 'em," he says.

"Anyways, jail's short term, prison's long term. Technically speaking, I've already been sentenced to life in prison so there ain't really much they could do. Especially cause I got friends in high places, so to speak. Well, She ain't my friend, really, more like my boss," he shrugs.

"You seem kinda soft for lock-up. You should probably bust out."

Longshot has posed:
"Deadshot is a nice name! So is Floyd! I'm just Longshot though." That Longshot and Floyd have had very different experiences while behind bars seems to occur to Longshot. This is followed by the absolute understanding that they both likely have very different experiences while not behind bars as well. The continuous playing with the handcuffs will pause at this, Longshot studying Floyd a little bit more closely now, "Why would you do that? I mean, why not just destroy the dangerous thing? Did you have to shoot them too?"

Incarceration, up until this point, has given Longshot lots of access to the low profile, petty crook and speeding ticket dodger that comes with local jails, but very few actual professional criminals nor super villains. Not that Longshot would be able to recognize a supervillain unless informed of the fact.

"Sounds like you have a bad boss. Maybe you should get a different job." Longshot will shrug, not about to confirm nor deny being soft, but certainly does not appear to be offended by it.

"I promised that I'd stay put until the paperwork is sorted, then I'm going to leave." This too is stated with the absolute earnestness that might not communicate an ability to break out, but certainly that Longshot Believes he could without much effort. "They just keep moving me around for no reason. The last one was my bad, but I don't know why people keep getting upset with me. I wish they'd just Tell me."

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton snorts, "Oh, she's a bad boss. That's why I have a bomb in my head that'll blow me the fuck up if I don't do what she says. But now I get money, too, cause she doesn't care about blowing government dimes and she gets a big dumb budget anyway. It's all black budget anyway, nothing anybody ever checks on. High six figures, not counting outside jobs," he says.

He chuckles at the mention of being moved around, "Sounds like they don't know what to do with you. You some kinda meta or mutant? That always freaks 'em out. Jailers are cowards by nature, they want you helpless and afraid. They don't like mooks like us who ain't scared of 'em."

Technically he isn't considered a meta, but Floyd's uncanny aim might qualify as something. He doesn't really care either way. About much of anything.

"Well, if you do decide to break out, I might take advantage and slip out with ya if I'm around. Be easier than riding the bus all the way to Lousiana sitting next to some embezzler trying not to get the fear shits on his first trip to the Fed."

Longshot has posed:
Longshot does not understand most of what Floyd just said. '6-figures', 'budget', money is already a rough concept for someone who needs 'goods and services can be traded for things that are not actual things but do have value' to be explained. He doesn't know what a Louisiana is, or the Feds or embezzling.

However, being forced to do something thanks to the threat of violence? That's right up Longshot's alley.

"Are you a slave? I will help you." This isn't a question, just a statement, the relaxed demeanor is gone. Longshot's entire focus on Floyd and will even go as far as to scoot closer to him on the bench. Perhaps it's the lot of being empathic and in a building like Ryker, perhaps it's the not-remembered war that Longshot has lost countless times, perhaps it's just a personality defect of hero-types to assume everyone wants to be saved, "I was told I'm not a human, it doesn't really matter what I am, but I Can help you. If you'll let me. I can help free you from here if you want, but your boss sounds like really bad business and I can help with that."

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton snorts, "Aw, shit, are you a superhero, kid? Like a real live do-gooder? Shit," he laughs. "It's real precious that you wanna help me out, but I can solve my own problems. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it," he says.

"I really do need a god damn cigarette though," he mutters.

"That said, if you got a plan or a way to bust on out, more'n happy to join in. All I really need is a gun and I can shoot our way out of here myself."

Longshot has posed:
"No, I'm serious! Bad bosses are the worst and you shouldn't have to do that alone! You're going to lose alone, I'm not saying you're not capable, I'm saying that they always win if we stand alone." That he is not being taken seriously seems, if anything, to frustrate Longshot. This is important! "I feel like you don't believe me. I can probably prove it, I can be really helpful! I want to be helpful!"

Admitting to aspirations of hero-ing has really not gone well for Longshot in the past establishments, but he's not going to lie about it, "I applied to be a hero and was told that's not how things work. I do vigilante stuff now, But that aside, I really can help! Things always work out for me. Maybe I can get you a cigarette if you really want one. You're absolutely welcome to come with me when I leave, without shooting people. BUT you shouldn't have to fight people who put bombs in your head alone!"

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton isn't a good person and so Longshot's distress doesn't really bother Floyd very much, if at all. But he doesn't want the little freak to get agitated, so he smooths things over a little bit.

"Fine, I promise, when I decide to rebel against my boss, which I am definitely not going to do, Amanda, in case you have this room bugged, but if I ever did, I won't do it alone.. I promise," he says.

"You seem like a nice kid. I hope I never have to shoot you."

"I'll take you up on both the escape and the cigarette, but I get the feeling they'll be coming to get both of us real soon. You make a move, though, I'll back you up, no problemo."

Longshot has posed:
"Good!" The promise seems to be enough to chill Longshot out a bit, seeming content to take Floyd's word for it, and he'll stand, starting to walk around the cell randomly, the fidget returning to the cuffs. Cling-clack. Cling-cling, "I have a phone, I'll give you my number when we're out."

However, full good humor is restored quickly, flashing a bright smile to Floyd, "It's incredibly difficult to shoot me, but you are welcome to try Deadshot! With a name like that, maybe you'd be the one who manages it!"

Cling-cling. Click-clang-cling. One of Longshot's cuffs pops open, the continual fidgeting apparently enough to have it give up on trying to do it's job. Longshot shifts the other to be more comfortable on his wrist and folds his arms as he looks around the cell again, "If I were a criminal who needed to stash cigarettes before processing, where would I be?"

Another visual sweep of the cell and Longshot will nod, then without warning will jump up and hit the edge of the metal bench with both feet, a flash of light visible from one eye as he makes contact. He's not very strong and not very heavy, but the bench, it would seem, was not very well bolted down. The leg in question shifts, bolt rolling away and leaving a hole about the size of a dime, the glow in Longshot's eye fading. Longshot drops to his knees and will, with a flourish, present Floyd with two cigarettes that look to be hand-rolled and the bolt that concealed them.

"Cigarettes!" Longshot looks incredibly pleased with himself, though not very surprised, "Quick favor though, will you stop saying nice things about me without meaning them, okay? I don't mind the compliments, I don't mind if you're gay. But we're not flirting right now and it feels like you're just saying them to be mean somehow."

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton is properly and appropriately flabbergasted by the whole thing. Luckily, there were some matches, too, with the hand-rolled smokes. Floyd takes one and sniffs it for a moment, "Here's hoping this isn't laced with PCP. Or fuck, maybe it is, I haven't had angel dust in years," he mutters.

He strikes the match and lights his cigarette, taking a long inhale and closing his eyes as the nicotine rush hits his bloodstream, "Fuck me, I needed that," he says.

Floyd shakes his head, "I ain't gay, but this is prison, you do what you gotta do. That said, I ain't gonna be here long enough to put it to the test in your case," he grins. "Don't take me being mean personal. I'm mean to everybody."

He gets up from his seat and picks up the toilet paper roll, cheap shit but at least a fresh full one, refreshd just before the two of them got there. He strikes a match and applies it to the roll, getting it good and flaming before holding it up to the fire alarm censor, resulting in a blaring siren.

"Just wait until they come to the rescue. Then we bust the fuck out, how bout that?"

Longshot has posed:
"You don't have to be mean to everyone." Longshot shrugs and will shift the leg of the bench back a bit before sitting back down on the bench, the range of noises possible for handcuffs that are only on one hand is far superior to two. Claching, chick, chering, chick, shrip, clank. Crick-clack. "I don't care what you are, but I expect to be taken out to dinner first, or at the very least you're going to have to buy me a drink."

The movement toward fire will first bring alarm, then a nod, "Okay, sounds good, but really. Don't kill anyone. They're just doing their jobs and maybe they have bombs in their heads as well. You never know!"

The pounding of boots on cement, the clank of well-armed people running to the scream of the alarm will echo down the hall long before guards are visible. Still, the moment that they are, guns are trained on Longshot and Deadshot. "DROP IT! ON THE GROUND! BOTH OF YOU ON THE GROUND NOW!"

Longshot's hands are in the air quickly, unfortunately revealing that he is no longer cuffed, but will start to sink from the bench to his knees, "You don't want to shoot a me. It's bad for you."

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton holds up his own hands, still cuffed, "You don't gotta shout, we're right here, numbnuts," he says to the guards.

Now, typically, he wouldn't give a shit about being told not to kill somebody. But Longshot did him a favor and Floyd doesn't like owing anybody anything. So the blonde kid requested that nobody dies on this breakout. Floyd may consider this a pussy request, but he's still going to honor it.

The two guards unlock the door, sliding it open. Antiquated tech - again, budget issues, in this case equipment from the 1970s still in place. Floyd steps out into the hallway and when they turn to look at the fire, he moves. Sharp headbutt, cracking the bridge of a nose, then he has the gun, slipping it easily from the guard's hand.

He shoots his guard in the gut, slightly to the right side, "Right through the gall bladder. He won't even miss it," he says, shoving the crumbled, wounded man to the ground. He'll assume Longshot handles his own man and, if he doesn't, well, he's gonna get shot, too. The guard, not Longshot.

"Going for the front door's suicide and I know suicide. There's a weak spot in the wall in the east wing showers. C'mon," he says, breaking into a run. On his way out of the place, though, he hits a button and unlocks all the other holding cells. The more chaos the better.

Longshot has posed:
Lucky, the guard on Longshot's attention is grabbed by the movement of his co-worker being attacked and his attempt to re-cuff Longshot will result in Longshot being fully un-cuffed. Longshot will helpfully hand the cuffs to the very startled guard and introduce the man's face to his own gun just as he attempts to pull the trigger.

Longshot is only a few steps behind Floyd, misguided trust in the man remains secure and unshaken, maybe even a little bit more reasonable! The guards all lived the encounter! "Okay! I don't know where that is, so you'll have to lead."

Another line of guards can be heard up ahead and above them, but because turning the fire alarm off has failed, the floor's fire suppression system goes off. Que the opening of fire-safty lockers and above, the sprinkler system goes off, raining down upon all the newly released denizens of nearby holding cells and the on-coming guards.

"I'm sorry actually, let me lead for a second-" Longshot snags a fire extinguisher from a convenient locker and will unleash it on the line on oncoming guards. The visors and helmets are quickly covered in white, blinding their owners, but that doesn't stop a few from attempting to shoot the runners. The cacophony of orders are drowned out by the lovely new indoor rain, the spray of bullets and the sound of other inmates starting to fight back.

Floyd Lawton has posed:
"Nice work, kid!" Floyd will tell Longshot as he uses the extinguisher to help cover their escape. He could take the time to pick his own cuffs, too, if he had the tool available, but he doesn't see much point. He'll get out of them fast enough once they're out of here.

At least they're not on the island proper, meaning they won't have to steal a boat. This is just a processing facility, a liminal space between jail and city, a no man's land so to speak. Towards the shower, a couple of guards get in the way, starting to lift guns only to have Deadshot casually shoot the pistols out of their hands. No luck there, just deadly skill, and then the two escapees bowl past them and into the shower area.

"Back here!" Floyd calls and soon he's getting Longshot to grab the other end of a heavy bench, ramming it into the wall until they bust through enough to climb out through the rubble.

"A football field run through the yard and we're over the fence and loose. Hope your cardio's good!

Longshot has posed:
"Ey! You are a dead shot! Very cool!" The line between luck and skill is one that Longshot dances on, but is not relevant given his current lack of a weapon making him a fully luck-centered creature. Speaking of skills, Longshot floats, but doesn't swim, so doubly fortunate that they are not yet on the island. Wonder where all his knives ended up. Problem for future-Longshot surely.

Longshot is still not very strong, but his assistance in the ramming of the bench against the wall will likely come in how few times ramming is required for the wall to give way. Really not much effort at all to convince the wall to crumble.

"My cardio is great! What about you, old man? It's a race!" Longshot is out and running without waiting for a response, where he fails in strength, speed and agility seems to be where he clearly excels. His movements are quick, but sporadic, dodging and weaving from the zip of bullets from the guard tower. The fence too is tackled simply by speeding up, and vaulting over it. Boots briefly alight on the top of one pole before hopping down to the other side and diving for cover from bullets.

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton gets outrun easily enough, but he does have a gun, which helps immensely. He turns and returns fire and, yeah, he probablyi got one of those cops in the face but he sees no need to alert Longshot about it. He can always pretend it was an oopsy, the kid seems like a sucker.

"Long as I get free, I don't mind coming in second," he grunts, making his own way up and over and landing quickly. Normally, he'd sprint for the subway ,but his prison garb has to go quickly enough. He knows this area pretty well, though, he's been arrested often enough. Two blocks and he jimmies the lock on the back of a used clothing store nearby, opening up and ushering Longshot in before closing it behind him.

He starts going through the boxes back there, picking out a casual outfit, "Try not to stick out like a sore thumb. Don't get caught," he says, sucking the gun away. Three bullets left. More than enough. He'll have to let Waller know that he busted out on his own. She'll like that. Gives him more cover as a legit villain. She might gripe about the guards but Floyd knows she doesn't reallyc are any more than he does.

"Thanks for the help, blondie. I owe you."

Longshot has posed:
"Thank You for the help! I'll have to apologize to my lawyer, but if they were never going to post bail on me, then I think this is okay." Longshot is happy to follow Floyd to the means of getting home safely. The clothing will be looked through, immediately finding some black leather that fits his tastes, but will deflate and put it aside at Floyd's words about sticking out. It's a real shame that everything Longshot would Like to wear does generally draw attention of some kind to him. As it is, he'll settle for second best with a Dazzler concert T-shirt from a few tours ago and as inconspicuous a jacket as he can convince himself to wear.

Longshot beams at Floyd with a double thumbs up, "They won't catch me again! And the moment you want to take down your boss, let me know! I'm happy to help! You deserve to not have that sort of evil hanging over you."

Not seeming to grasp that a favor from Deadshot might actually be a pretty valuable thing to some people, Longshot will simply laugh, "Sure, maybe that's just what friends are for? Thanks for not killing anyone! We gotta do this again sometime!"

Floyd Lawton has posed:
Floyd Lawton slips on a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses, "Sure, buddy," he says.

Floyd swipes a phone and a pair of car keys from the distracted sales girl on the phone on the way out, hitting the button on the chain until he sees a pair of headlights light up. Car should get him at least to jersey before he has to ditch it.

"Stay fresh, cheese bags, "he says to Longshot as a final goodbye before he drives off on his own.