2588/Group LF Heals Then GTG

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Group LF Heals Then GTG
Date of Scene: 24 July 2020
Location: The Hanging Tree - Park
Synopsis: A drug deal goes wrong, but the intervention of Beacon saves the day!
Cast of Characters: Tim Drake, Phoebe Beacon, Rose Wilson




Tim Drake has posed:
It's late. Getting close to midnight, really. The spreading boughs of the Hanging Tree block out the moonlight and the streetlamp tangled up inside it. The street lamp across the street is out. It's Coventry. It's not as bad as the Narrows, but only just.

The only light underneath the overhanging branches over the cracked sidewalk, in fact, comes from down the street a fair bit, almost a block, where a functional streetlamp flickers.

In this semi-darkness, a quintet of street toughs linger. Three together, one leaning on the nearest wall of the nearest building, smoking a cigarette, his buddy beside him spinning a fidget spinner. Like those things are still cool or something.

Above, in the tree itself, perched among the twining branches and concealed by the dense foilage, Red Robin and Ravager are poised, waiting for the dealers to show where they have their stash located nearby. Which means waiting for someone to come make a buy so one of the runners can go retrieve it. They could take down the dealers as-is... but they need to get the product off the street too.

So.

They perch. And wait.

And wait.

It's been a little over an hour since the two young vigilantes had found a place to perch like a pair of very dangerous birds. Red Robin is focused, though, his gaze never leaving the knot of dealers below. The Job consumes his attention, as usual.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The other hereos may be perched in wait, but one is on the move. She sticks to the rooftops, moving between shadows with a pack on her back. She had been planning to stop off at one fo her usual camps, but had found it'd picked up and moved. Makes it downright frustraiting, how is Beacon going to be handing out sunbutter sandwiches now?

    The shift of light as she comes accross a roof accross from the Hanging Tree as she made her way accross on sturdy boots, doing her best to remain low and quiet.

Rose Wilson has posed:
Dangerous BIRD. And friend. Rose might argue about being counted as a bird, even if she might as well be considering she's perching in the trees like a bird, or a bat.

Never let her father see that she's just hanging out in trees. He might not understand. But much like Red Robin, she's focused on watching the dealer's waiting to see if anyone comes through to buy.

Tim Drake has posed:
A pair of other hoodlum-sorts make their way over to the trio, chatting for a few minutes. Money exchanges hands.

One of the guys nods to the two by the wall, who both take off to the stash point. Red Robin watches. Down the block, turning down that alleyway. He counts the seconds until they return to sight.

"Got 'em," he murmurs, barely loud enough for Rose to hear. "That's the alley behind Mama Rosina's. I bet the stash is behind the dumpsters."

That's good enough for him. He drops from his perch, landing once on a branch below, then bouncing to another, then falling-with-style from the treet itself to land just behind the dealers. "Hey guys," Red Robin says conversationally, whipping out his extendable bo. "Just say no, right?"

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe, meanwhile, is making her own way to the back alley behind Mama Rosina's. She steps lively off a fire escape, landing in the alleyway as she reaches into her pack -- and removes a brown paper bag. Two sandwhiches, a pair of socks, and she breathes out. "Chuck? Are you back here? I've got a couple sandwiches--" she calls out gently into the darkness as she steps forward, unafraid and unaware -- what in her city could hurt her, after all?

Rose Wilson has posed:
When Red Robin starts to drop down from the tree, going from branch to branch to ground, Rose waits, her attention focused on the thugs to see just what it is they might do when he appears.

Only after he's hit the ground and spoken up does she drop down after him, taking a bit of a quicker route down by bypassing the safe route of taking a branch or two down. One hand moving to grasp the handle of one of her swords, drawing it.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Who the fuck?" one of the dealers snaps as Tim drops down.

"It's a fucking Bat," chimes in another. And about the time Rose is dropping down behind Tim, there are seven guys (five dealers and two buyers) all drawing down hand guns at a certain domino-masked Bat-spawn. Ravager's addition only has them begin firing immediately.

Handguns are notorious bad at being aimed properly, especially by low-rent street punks who definitely don't spend time at the range. However, they have a few things going for them.

    1)There's seven of them
    2) This is pretty close range. By that, I mean, less than ten feet.

In the forefront, Red Robin has a split second to regret his life decisions before three bullets slam into his torso. The kevlar in the Robin suit is helpful in the fact that the bullets aren't tearing through his insides. However, each of them feels like a freight train slamming into him, knocking the wind from his wings. He staggers backwards, for a moment the bo is used more for holding him up than as a weapon.

Click click click go more trigger pulls, and another two bullets tear across non-armored areas: his left forearm and his right cheek, breaking the bone of the former and luckily just leaving a red line of damage across the latter. He swears with the first breath coming back to his lungs, fighting the urge to snap his injured arm to his chest. No time for that now.

With his right arm, he spins the bo and luncges forward, still fighting for another breath, towards the nearest dealer, managing to knock the handgun from his hands.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Gunshots?

    That rattled her out of her altruistic search, and stuffing the care bag back into her pack, The Beacon hooks her backpack over the nearest fire escape, and comes around the corner, staying low and down. Where there were gunshots, inevitably, there were injuries. She reaches for her earbud, and turns on the local police scanner app from her phone. Super low-budget crimefighting gear. She pays a dollar a month for the no-ads version.

    Beacon's dark eyes lay over the sight, her breath catching against her chest.

Rose Wilson has posed:
"Shit..."

Which is not a very professional kind of reaction to the fact there are guns....and then they are being fired. And Red Robin is getting hit, there's little for her to think about. He's up, on his feet, maybe broken and bloody, but there's still //seven// bad guys, so the odds are roughly even.

The second sword is drawn before she launches herself forward, going for the other side of the group from where Red Robin goes, a two-person flanking of a "superior" force.

Tim Drake has posed:
Showing off is never the answer. Red Robin usually knows better, but he's also usually entirely thinking with his more often used brain, as opposed to shunting some of the thought process south. Now he's reminded sharply of why quick and quiet is the answer most batlings prefer.

Even one-armed, though, Red Robin is not a threat to be ignored. As soon as he's knocked away the gun, that bo comes back to crack the now-disarmed dealer in the face, knocking him forcefully into the guy beside him, jostling their little grup. Standing close together doesn't help when your opponents literally brought a stick and a knife to a gun fight, boys.

With a sharp wheeze, he shoulder slams into another of the dealers, purposefully knocking him into the buyer drawing a bead on Rose at point blank range, knocking his shot astray.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Then Player Three joins the fight!

    She crosses the street, running towards the group with her hood drawn up on her jacket, and as she sweeps in from behind the gun-toting gang bangers, she ignites a brilliant staff, hooking around one's legs from behind to add confusion and distraction into the fight. She can smell acrid gunsmoke. Her eyes are narrowed, and her moves flow easily, well-practiced -- though she's careful not to touch any of the buyers or sellers!

Rose Wilson has posed:
No showing off? Rose didn't get that memo, or this is just how she fights. The dual swords in her hands move, and she slashes across the chest of one, and spins to stab another through the side.

They will probably survive, none were exactly killing shots.

There's a quick look, checking to make sure that Tim is still one his feet before she shifts, tucking one shoulder and going for a third to try and force to the ground while chaos seems to reign bullets down.

Tim Drake has posed:
Two remaining on their feet, and one of them is Red Robin's problem. Or he would be, if he didn't fire a pointblank shot into Tim's center of mass.

That's another unfortunate kick to the chest. The sound of Robn's breath exploding from him and the CRRRACK of the kevlar giving way are audible. Better not get shot again, Red Robin figures. He uses his weight to effective tackle the guy, expecting Ravager or-- is that Beacon? He'd try and wave her off, but he's not in a position to do so-- to handle the last guy.

He mostly catches himself with his good arm, as his staff clatters to the ground for the moment. Gotta get back up. Job's not over yet.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Beacon, however, is. She's behind the guy who fired pointblank. She steps up, and she brings her brilliant, glowing staff up, bracing herself and brings the staff about, up in front of his ankle and swings up, planting the guy face-down in the dirt with a kick to his back to knock the breath outta him.

    "Stay down." She warns, and she stands up, looking to Robin and states, without any irony in her voice:

    "... ah. Hi. I can help."

Rose Wilson has posed:
When Tim goes down, there is a split second of hesitation, and Rose almost changes her path. But she doesn't, instead she makes sure that the one she was taking down, stays down. One knee lands on the man's lower back as she grabs for his arms, starting to get him tied up. As soon as he gets tied, the rest do as well, a frown offered over towards the brightly glowing staff and wielder. But she doesn't object to the help.

Tim Drake has posed:
"Heh." Red Robin doesn't argue, his eyes flitting to the eyepatched young woman tying up the bad guys. Ravager has them under control. That's good. He looks to Beacon. "Staying down," he grumbles.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    Phoebe lets the lightstaff fade, shaking her hand out a moment as she looks to Ravager, and she gives a small nod of acknowledgement, "I'm... The Beacon. We've met before." she states quietly, regarding Red Robin, and then makes her way towards Red Robin, drawing down to one knee.

    "I... I'm going to touch your face. It's going to take a hot minute while everything sorts out," Phoebe explains hesitantly as she removes her gloves, and very gently reaches up, and cradles Red's face in her palms.

    "It might feel weird."

    And there is a glow on her palms, which lights up Red Robin's face. It feels like hot cocoa at just the right temperature is slipping through his blood, searching for the injuries. Worn patches of muscle in need of protein repair. Knitting tendons and fibers. Jangling, repairing nerves as the thumb on her left hand smoothsagainst his skin.

    Clotting, bruising blood urged away as the muscles and ribs heal. Skin beginning to tingle from abraisons drawing shut.

    Phoebe's hands continue to glow, her breath evening out as her eyes close.

Tim Drake has posed:
Red Robin's jaw sets as the healing sets in. Not that he's entirely against it. "Thanks," he says quietly as the bruises and cuts heal. Though the broken arm might take a bit longer.

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The broken arm does take longer. A good couple minutes longer, as the bone knits back into place, fiberous stitches forming, then growing over.

    "... you must have taken on a lot in the last couple nights. I thought you wore armor?" Beacon chides a moment, good naturedly but already sounding tired, and after a moment she eases her right hand off, shaking her arm out a little bit.

    Red Robin's arm, after another few minutes, is at least three-quarters of the way there, when she lifts her hand, and shakes it out. "I'd..." she gasps a moment, then closes her eyes tighter. "Don't sleep on that side, if you can. Baby it a bit. No one-armed push-ups or backflips on that arm for at least a week... accellerated healing might stay around for a couple of hourse..." she breathes out, thenr ocks back to her heels in a crouch, and shakes her hands out again.

    "What are you made of, rocks?"

Tim Drake has posed:
"Basically," he jokes. "And I am wearing armor. It just... you know, eventually gives out." There's a flash of grin under the domino mask. He sits up, glancing over the beaten drug dealers with a frown. Rose has them under control, but... some of them have taken injuries from Ravager's swords. He gives her a glance before slowly getting to his feet. "I need to let the GCPD know to pick these guys up, and send medical. And I need to get their stash from the alleyway." Back to the Job. "I guess it's good we ran into each other, Beacon."

Phoebe Beacon has posed:
    The teenager gives a nod, and she wobbles a little bit, tapping ehr ear.

    "Gunshots were reported. If you don't contact direct, they'll breeze b y sometime." she comments, and she breathes out, looking out over the park and the hanging tree.

    "Always a pleasure, Red Robin. Feel free to look me up anytime. WOuldn't mind helping out more." she gives a wry smile.