3339/What does the Shadow know

What does the Shadow know
Date of Scene:	12 September 2020
Location:	Abandoned Warehouse - Chinatown
Synopsis:	Batgirl is out boosting the signal for her Oracle Array when she receives word of a deal in chinatown... and runs into the Shadow. Fate or folly, Babs is on the hunt.
Cast of Characters:	Barbara Gordon, Natasha Cranston

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Barbara Gordon has posed:
It's been a long couple weeks.

Babs, ala Batgirl, had been stabbed trying to protect Spoiler and wasn't quite up to prime fighting condition, but there was no time to sit around waiting for wounds to mend in Gotham. The Court of Owls was out there and Babs was intent on getting a leg up on them... in this case by boosting the signal of her powerful computer based back at the Clocktower.

Kneeling down at a junction box in Chinatown, she read the scrolling text on her cellphone, a mobile hacking device in and of itself, as she looped in a dummy program to give herself a backdoor into the city network. Listening in on some traffic feed to her headset inside the small cowl, she was directed to a warehouse not far from where she'd been working... a gun-deal. They'd been using two way radios, unaware that even low tech comes were no match for the Oracle.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    The conversation she's listening into is more than a bit terse -- the person in charge, a gruff man only addressed as 'Mike' keeps reminding his underlings that they've lost a few too many shipments lately, and "the boss" is getting unhappy and isloking for scapegoats, so this one has to go off without a hitch, all sentries are to remain on alert and call the moment they even think they saw something.

    One of his underlings tries to soothe him by assuring him that "this ain't New York" and "He" won't be following them here, but Mike seems unconvinced that Gotham is going to be any better...

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Batgirl crouches in the darkness overlooking the warehouse where the conversation, at least one half of it anyways, is taking place. Duping the two way signal so she can run it through the analyzer back at the Clocktower. She might not know who was on the other end, but she'd likely triangulate where it was originating from.

New York. He

Keywords, obviously.

Filing them on a seperate subfolder named The Boss, until she can transplant something more substantial in its place.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    This close, she can also pick up the sentries' individual signals - relatively short-range and low power transmitters, but well within her cowl's EWAR capability to tap and triangulate. Six sentries outside the building, two of which she has line of sight on from this angle and appear to be armed with SMGs, four more moving around on the other sides. Several more people inside - possibly up to a dozen, although interference from the metal in the walls and structure makes it slightly tricky to get an accurate count.

    Aside from Mike's occasional demand for an update, comms discipline and opsec is... Reasonable, which suggests that this is more likely to be actual organized crime rather than one of Gotham's Foulest pulling a heist, but they're clearly more used to enemies that approach at ground level...

Barbara Gordon has posed:
That's the problem, very few criminals look 'up' until it's way too late.

Babs moves skyward on a silent graple gun line fired at an adjacent building. Passing between individual beads of light to clutch awkwardly to the edge of the building below which the sentries she has eyes on are moving. Quickly tapping at her computer to bring up various other visual spectrums until she finds one that allows her clear sight in the limited light.

Everything recorded for later rewatching and analysis.

Her purpose was pretty simple... access to the buildings power lines by way of an elevated switch off point between the lines and the AUX inside. Hooking her computer to it to take remote command of the lights and find any camera feeds being powered off of it.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    Unfortunately, the comms discipline means that there's little to overhear that's of use; only Mike's insistence on being a helicopter manager is of any help, as he keeps trying to impress on his underlings how important this job is -- apparently they were contracted to deliver this, and they already had two delays, and "The Boss" really won't like it if this this opportunity is lost, and if he's going to have to toss an underling at "The Big Guy"'s mercy, Mike intends to make very sure that it's not going to be him.

    Joey acknowledges Mike's thinly veiled threat with gritted teeth and switches back to the local channel for another update from the sentries outside, and receives five acknowledgements.

    ... Come to think of it, #6's transponder stopped moving about two minutes ago.

    The camera feeds give a lovely view of the warehouse's occupants all tensing simultaneously as #6, apparently named "Luke" fails to respond to Joe's increasingly insistent orders to call in, and #1 and #5 are already moving towards his position...

    ... And leaving one side door uncovered. As a result, Barbara is probably not surprised to see it open quietly -- but nobody appears to be moving through it, aside from a brief shadow against the wall, moving quickly out of sight again...

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Babs hadn't really expected them to drop discipline with her new line of spying, but a girl could hope, right? It's the follow up to Luke's radio silence that really trigger her, though... She's been working with Batman a long time and that kind of activity stinks of the Dark Knight... but she'd know if he was here.

At least she tells herself she would.

The drop down to ground level is graceful, aided with her graple line, and she moves quickly through the darkness towards that door left ajar... peeking in before entering as stealthily as she can... which is fairly well stealthy given her skillset.

No way it's Bruce... But it really does have all the halmarks.

Wait for more signals to start dropping now.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    The interior of the warehouse is well lit. Exceptionally well-lit; in fact -- despite the delapidated look on the outside, all interior lights are in working order, and apparently they brought several additional lamps just for the occasion, casting multiple sharp-edged shadows as the various workers - half of which have stopped hauling crates and have pulled out weapons to join the search - walk around the warehouse floor.

    Between the monitor feeds to her cowl visor and her own eyes it's hard to keep track of all the viewpoints at once, so it's only when Barbara is actively looking at the feeds that she realizes that not only is one of the shadows on the ground moving without anything casting it, but the motion tracking algorithm that was /supposed/ to catch and alert her missed it entirely.

    What's less hard to miss is the sound of a fist meeting flesh, and the focus shifts to where one of the guards is suddenly reeling backwards from what was probably a strike to the face -- and then suddenly goes head over heels as something sweeps his legs out from under him.

    Of all the Bat-family, perhaps only Cassandra would have been able to read the movements well enough to recognize that there are more shadows than can be accounted for, but even she would have troupe keeping track of where the extra one went afterwards.

    "Fuck, it's him!" Joe yells, and several of the guards head over, guns at the ready but unwilling to open fire when one of their own is on the ground in the target range...

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Babs realizes instantly that she's in over her head as soon as she enters the well lit interior of the warhouse. Not that she's incapable of dealing with these goons, she absolutely is, but she can't employ her usual mix of subterfuge and sneaking to make it easier.

Crouching low, half cape pillowing around her thighs in the position, she prepares herself to spring into action when... The shadows move of their own accord. Blinking behind the white lense of her cowl as they shift and writh towards one of the goons and the open foyer echoes with the sound of flesh on flesh.. the telling sound of a punch.

It's him.

Babs retreats backwards, hurling a batarang out in a side throw to knock out one of the overheads to cast her in darkness.. a sliver of black to mask her presence, or so she thinks, as she watches how this plays out...

Natasha Cranston has posed:
     Most of the warehouse occupants converge on the scene, nervously glancing at each other as they try to cover as many of the angles as possible while one of them checks on the downed man.

    "... He's out cold. Maybe a concussion, I don't know..."

    Joe snarls. "... Right. Leave him for now. Find whoever did--"

     He's interrupted by the deafening sound of a flashbang going off -- judging by the aftermath, someone had rigged it on the side door and the sentries who'd tried to come back in triggered it when they opened the door, knocking two of them out and leaving the others incapacitated and clawing at their eyes... And then the laughter starts.

    Not the Joker's laughter. Barbara knows that particular laugh entirely too well for her own comfort. This isn't that gleeful hyena-like cackle of a murderous lunatic about to start some mayhem. This is lower, more sinister - someone who has their prey right where they want them, and who is already looking forward to what they're about to do...

Barbara Gordon has posed:
That laugh is close... close enough to send hackles running up her spine, but not close enough to send her into an anxiety induced panic. She isn't scared of the clown anymore, not really, but she knows to be afraid of him.

And she's not afraid of this laugh...

Brow furrows, she watches the goons respond to the laughter. That predator sound echoing all around them while Babs clutches a batarang running up her palm. Rolling it inbetween her fingers, ready to hurl it at one of the goons if they get too close to where she's crouching.

The video recordings of this are definitely being filed for later analysis... This is an anomoly. Where Batgirl really thought she'd had most of the criminal element of Gotham figured out.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    The men on the ground are looking around, pointing their guns every which way as they try to locate the source of the laughter, but to no avail. It takes Batgirl only a moment longer to realize it's not just the fact that the warehouse echoes -- her cowl contains some of the most sophisticated analysis software she's been able to write or steal, and it's absolutely zero help at the moment, painting a different location every few seconds with a confidence rating that never passes 50.

    "Did you think it was going to be this easy, Joe?" the voice asks mockingly -- and that's almost certainly a heavy-grade voice mask with some decidedly non-factory settings because nothing human sounds like that on their own -- "Did you really think skipping town would throw me off the scent? That I wouldn't KNOW? Heh heh heh heh HA HA HA HA HAAA..."

    Joe flinches at the accusations, and while Batgirl isn't Cass, she doesn't need the girl's preternatural skill at reading body language to see the moods shifting in the people on the ground. Confusion becomes consternation becomes nervousness becomes fear, and scared people with itchy trigger fingers are a dangerous combination for everyone in the room...

    ... And then a light near one corner of the warehouse flickers and burns out, and one of the men breaks and opens fire -- and a moment later, so does everyone else, hosing down the area and causing ricochets to fly around the room -- fortunately, none of them come anywhere near Batgirl, but by the time Joe manages to shout some discipline back into his people three more lights are out of commission, two of his men are down with ricochet wounds, and the truck they'd been loading is going to need to replace two tires and a windshield...

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Babs doesn't have to be near to the running goons to take one of them out, and probably would if not for the sudden sound of that voice echoing all around the warehouse... The batarang rests clutched between the middle and index knuckle on her right hand, ready to leap out and touch one of them, though...

More information files away, building a portfolio on a figure she's not yet seen... Until the lights start cutting out... Batgirl uses the opening. Rushing across the open floor into a patch of spreading darkness radiating out like an oil spill. As she nears one of the remaining goons, wielding an assault rifle, she leaps off her back foot and sends the other splashing into the center of his chest.

Using her weight to knock him backwards off his feet when she pushes off into somersault, straight down into a knee drop against his right collar bone. The batarang whistles out from her hand, whirling through the air towards the trigger guard of another, pinning the weapon in an unthreatening mode where that trigger cannot be pulled.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    The thud as she hits the first man goes unnoticed among the clatter of spent shells and falling magazines, but the yelp from the second man as a sharp thrown object spangs off his weapon close to his hand draws some attention.

    However, the moment the remaining guards turn to look at what happened, the shadows at their back shift, and a vaguely human-formed blur grabs one of them and tosses him into the guard next to him before lashing out with what looks like a kick to a third, sending him sprawling... And in the next eyeblink, it's gone, leaving only yells of dismay as the guards turn around again to the latest surprise...

Barbara Gordon has posed:
The shadows working in conjunction with her is... odd, but not something she's willing to disregard out of hand. Take advantage of every oppertunity that presents itself, old training settling in to guide muscle memory... and Babs is off again, rolling off the downed man towards the one whom she'd jagged with a batarang to grip his arm behind the weapon stock and twist violently on her right knee to spin him over her shoulder in a short judo-throw.

Using her elbow to guide his knee up over her shoulder so he comes down painfully, but nonlife threateningly, onto his neck.. a landing quickly followed by her flat hand chop directly into the upper portion of his solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him... gone before he's even made his first gasp.

Darting across the open foyer towards the goons who just turned away from her, putting all over her weight into one of her knees coming into the back of one of theirs. Dropping him like a sack down upon it, using her gauntleted left arm as a face shield should one of the others beside him take a rogue shot at her while wrapping her right arm in around his throat to squeeze with her bicep, cutting off his oxygen until she can feel him going limp.

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    A judo takedown is rarely quiet - but shock and surprise keeps the remaining guards off balance just long enough for Batgirl to finish choking her current victim out.

    Eyes widen as they finally get a good glimpse of at least one of their attackers. "... Oh, fuck, we got a Bat as well?" one of them moans with the expression of someone who regrets every single decision he made this day starting with getting out of bed in the morning.

    Joe's face, on the other hand, is a snarl of rage as he brings his gun up, his intent to shoot through his own man if he has to clear as day. "Who cares? Kill them a--"

    He doesn't get to finish his sentence as the shadows behind him shift and coalesce and solidify and grab him, immobilize his gun arm, and delivering a quick kick and jab combo that knocks him to his knees and sends his face slamming into the concrete floor.

    In the stunned silence that follows, the figure rises to its full height -- tall, and made more so by the wide greatcoat and cape, and the black slouch hat covering their head while a crimson scarf covers most of their remaining features, save for blazingly blue eyes.

    "This is your last chance to surrender," -- and that voice is not in fact any less disconcerting when one can see where it's coming from -- "Feel free not to take it."

Barbara Gordon has posed:
While caught in their stare, one blink sees her gone.

That's just the nature of a Bat being on scene. Taking your eyes off them, even for a second, is a fatal mistake because she's on the move again. Twisting off her knee with her hand shoving the unconscious goon she'd been choking down onto the floor roughly. Darking off into the darkness with a few small pellets rolled off into her palm to create a noxious mist of white smoke coiling out unnaturally for their size.

Visual switches to a thermal, picking her next target and coming up on him fast. Both elbows driving down to either side of his neck just up from his shoulders. It's not enough forward to break the bones, but it probably hurts like hell... almost as much as the nomex-ceramic cowl slamming forward in a headbutt just at the bridge of his nose. Weight foreward, pushing him with her cowl and spinning off with her hands locked behind his neck to yank him off his feet when her's twist side to side in the air. Reversing before she lands in a low crouch, hands down on either side of her foot.

That disembodied voice, though...

Goading them.

"Surrender." It's not a growl, so it's definitely not Batman...

But does it matter?

Natasha Cranston has posed:
th Joe down, and caught between a Bat and whoever that is, what's left of the remaining guards' morale crashes, and one by one guns start clattering to the floor.

    "... We ain't paid enough to put up with this," one of them volunteers, meekly raising his hands before looking somewhat worriedly from Batgirl to the other figure, who chuckles.

    "Paid by who?" they ask. "I dunno, I swear. Mike's the one who got Joe to set this up, said he'd found a real big customer here in Gotham, and if we got in on the ground floor we'd be set for life..."

    The figure stares back at him, considering, then turns to look at Batgirl, those eyes seeming to look straight through her, weighing her every sin... And then bows slightly.

     "... In that case, it would seem that this evening's events rightly fall under your jurisdiction, not mine, Batgirl. I trust you'll be able to process this scum's arrest?"

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Babs watches the shadow deal with the interrogation with a situational coolness that is.. quite frankly... very impressive. Right along her own lines, straight to the point. Professional appreciation here and Batgirl nods, "I can handle it..." Quiet, turning to regard the goon.

"Now, be a good boy and put these on." Tossing a zip-tie. "Trust me, you'd rather deal with the GCPD than me, right now..." Regarding the figure materialized out of the shadows out of the corner of her cowl. Trying to pin down some kind of identifying characteristic, but finding few... if any.

She doesn't bother asking who the individual is. That would completely defeat the purpose of using such tactics to keep their identity secure, wouldn't it? Nor does she move to stop them from departing... as if she could?

Natasha Cranston has posed:
    There's something archaic about the style of dress; much like the Question, in a time and a culture where primary colors, form-fitting spandex or high tech armour are in vogue, they dress like they just recently walked off the set of a film noir -- and there's something tickling a vague memory in the back of her head at that thought. Something to look into later, maybe.

    At the moment, however, the figure briefly touches their hat in salute and turns to walk away, fading into the shadows as they go -- and the next time Batgirl blinks her eyes, the figure is gone entirely...

Barbara Gordon has posed:
Babs watches until the figure is gone, already narrowing her search for later. Any information between Gotham and New York's underbelly of that particular style of dress, boogeyman stories of someone using shadows as weapons... Key words, plugged into her powerful computer at the Clocktower.

For now, though?

She turns her full attention on the remaining goons... tilting her head with a hand out, motioning between them. "You boys wanna go ahead and get tied up or should we make this interesting?" Whatever happens, when the GCPD respond to the alert she's sent out from her phone, they'll find the goons all nicely packaged with plenty of evidence. A smoking gun, as it were...

But no Batgirl.

She's already headed home to start her search.