4291/Damian and Karen: Part I

Damian and Karen: Part I
Date of Scene:	03 December 2020
Location:	Karen Starr's residence
Synopsis:	Damian attempts to kill Karen Starr, finds out that she can't be killed so easily. Bringing shame on the name al-Ghul.
Cast of Characters:	Damian Wayne, Karen Starr

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Damian Wayne has posed:
     Stark Expo 2020: Damian and his then boyfriend had been enjoying the opening of the Expo, when he had been approached by Karen Starr, President, owner, and CEO of Starrware. She had the gall, no, the AUDACITY to pinch the cheeks of Damian Wayne, and cause an overall reaction that had Techno not distracted him, he would have attempted murder right there and then. It was then and there that Damian decided, she needed to be put down.

  Present day: Damian Wayne had equipped himself with the garb of a League assassin, he'd given up the uniform, but this was a special exception. He had prepared a special toxin, a good dose of poison that would, to most people, simply present itself as a simple cardiac event. No muss, no fuss, just an easy death. Most of his equipment was to actually get into Karen's residence unnoticed.

  He'd been given the night off, at least no one in Gotham would be looking for him, and his cell phone was left in Wayne Manor, no GPS to track him.

  The young assassin had done his homework, learning all he could about the domicile. Silently, Damian had watched the building through binoculars, observing, waiting for his prey.

Karen Starr has posed:
    The Stark Expo was so long ago now, at least in memory, that Karen remembers her actions only in that she remembers basically everything. That does not mean that she regards the events of the night as at all important. She'd met Damian, which was nice- but she'd never allude much in that short meeting. After all, she's not supposed to know.

    She also did not know that, a day which for her was but any other day was for Damian a prime offense. Karen never would have suggested that she'd triggered some sort of murderous intent that had not yet been purged from him.

    Getting into Karen's apartment is, frankly, easier than it ought to be, and Damian will find that out soon enough. Primarily, though, he'll notice that she's already home. She looks a little different than when he last saw her- her hair is shorter and he might comment on her fitness if she were visible at all below the chest- but it's still her, coke-bottle glasses and all.

    The night's preparations are done- Metropolis is a quiet town after dark, and she is clearly getting ready for bed. Of course, Karen doesn't /need/ to sleep anymore. Not since she first felt the touch of a yellow sun. Despite this, sixteen years of requiring it and the necessity of maintaining a public identity, for the Kryptonians, does include actually taking the time to sleep at night. Like real people. Tihs means that while Damian is watching, the lights of the apartment flick off, and he can see a door open near the rear, leading into what's probably a bedroom.

    he apartment itself is the penthouse of the Starrware building. The security seems to be fairly standard, but what isn't included is any modifications that would have been made by a technology company at the forefront of cybersecurity. Cybersecurity, though, isn't physical security- and much like others whom enjoy the environment of Metropolis, with its clean skyline and cool atmosphere... She leaves the patio door open, fully.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     The young assassin, had he actually mentioned the incident to his father, he might have learned something about Karen Starr. He didn't.

  Damian's face as he witnessed the open patio door was agape. Immediately, he had no use for half of the things he brought with him.

  A zip-line from his vantage point to the penthouse had been fired, it was mostly silent to normal people. The mechanical carrier brought him in, and his tabi assured he would barely make a sound as he entered in the apartment through the patio door. His black and white ensemble was harder to be seen from down below.

  He moved slowly, and deliberately to the outside of the master bedroom, paying attention to listening for sleeping sounds, even breathing, or even snoring.

Karen Starr has posed:
    There were signs, of course, that something was amiss. However, these were things a driven young assassin would not be interested in noticing at all. Damian is not investigating Karen Starr. He's here to kill her. It makes sense that he wouldn't notice how, over the back of her couch is splayed some sort of white tanktop, next to a lumpy, red, towel-looking thing. He has no reason to stop by her bathroom, despite that the door to it is ajar, to notice the very well-crafted, two-foot long platinum blonde wig, resting atop a stand that contains, to put it lightly, physical padding that would hide certain otherwise noticeable curvatures.

    When he finds her bedroom, she is asleep on her side. The thick blanket covers her form, but it's clearly her, snoozing away with a blinking, unset alarm clock that looks like it's seen abuse.

    Idly, an orange tabby defends his home by rising up to look at Damian, before putting his head back down to sleep.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     The young man took himself a moment, unraveling a thread around a vial, one or two drops was enough. But as the tabby raised his head, and then lowered it, the assassin made a note, to at least make sure the cat had access to food after he had done the deed. Knowing how much company owners were busy, it wouldn't be extremely long in the day before her body would be found. But he couldn't abide by a pet being collateral damage to his own vendetta.

  Black tabi padded softly towards Karen on the bed. And the cork in the vial removed. His own breathing was light and soft, making no noise that he himself could hear. The string was left just two millimeters above her mouth. The vial tipped, and the clear liquid started to run down the string, one drop falls, then another. Before more could fall, Damian had already wound the string around the vial again, and plugged it back up. He would destroy it later.

Karen Starr has posed:
    Down on the ground near the door, there is a well-stocked autofeeder that Damian will probably eventually notice. Next to it, the only real ambient noise in the room, is a flowing water fixture that sits right next to the feeder, keeping a solid supply of fresh water for the cat, whom seems not at all perturbed by Damian's presence.

    Karen is not resting fully on her back, but Damian doesn't need her to be. Getting a read on her bodytype is essentially impossible with the comforter, despite that her chest is above the top, exposing a warped, stretched long-sleeve shirt that reads 'This Shirt Doesn't Fit' across exactly where you'd think it would.

    She doesn't snore, but she's not exactly tight-lipped in slumber, and it isn't at all difficult for the assassin, as well trained as he is, to deposit the lethal dosage where it needs to go.

    Though the clock doesn't tell time anymore, it isn't difficult for Damian to count the minutes as they pass.

    It's uneventful, of course. The idea was to kill her in her sleep, and he got the dosage right for even someone of her size... So why isn't she choking? Why isn't her heart arresting? Why does she seem to be breathing on, getting so far what looks to be a full night's sleep without, you know, dieing?

    Pinching his cheeks was one offense, but any other person wouldn't have the absolute -gall- to go on living. The NERVE of this woman.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Five minutes pass, nothing. Not even labored breathing. How DARE she?!

  Okay, he didn't want to get this done in a messy way, but sometimes you need to get it done the way you need. A cord of thick wire had been unwound, tied around two pieces of wood. He WANTED this to be undetectable. He WANTED this to be just someone who never woke up. Clean, and simple.

  He stepped around the bed, and prepared to make the move. It would be a little difficult to pull off, but he figured he could pull it off, given most people would try to sit up and swing around their legs to the closest edge of the bed. He would have to move fast, reach his arms around, and pinion himself quickly to garotte her, use her movements against her.

  He made ready, and jumped, attempting to wrap her neck around with the wire, and quickly cinch her neck with his weight. She'd definitely wake up, he had already resigned the fact.

Karen Starr has posed:
    This is all within the realm of things Damian has trained for. Plans go awry. People live through things. Sometimes, you just don't get what you want. It's SUPPOSED to be the Christmas season. A little gift to himself. One less greedy, wealthy, corporate slag in the world.

    Can't he have just this ONE thing?

    Regardless of that, Karen isn't too difficult to noose with the garrote. She's nearer to one edge of the bed, the result of a recent relationship combined with the war of attrition of Woman Vs. Cat, as the small- but overweight, frankly- feline has slowly claimed more real estate for itself by sleeping in sincerely the most awkward places that it possibly could.

    This means that the position Damian took to poison her is also the prime position to get leverage on her neck and spine as the cord wraps around that sensitive structure. All it should take, then, is for him to pull it tight, and leave it there until the fight is gone from what is definitely, absolutely, an out of shape nerd at her most vulnerable.

    The cord goes taught, doing its job of compressing around her throat and giving him plenty of leverage. However, this too does not go according to plan. He might feel how her neck doesn't cinch under the cord's constriction, yet all the same, oddly, the cord snaps so quickly he might not have the time to notice, or think about it. Despite his dark vision, being able to see that it doesn't actually start to choke her would require attention in a way that Damian might not be paying.

    This, certainly, is an outrage of mythical proportions. First, she DARES to live through the poison, and then there is a critical equipment failure at the same time?

    Then, of course, there's the sheer AUDACITY. Any reasonable, sane person would have the tact to awaken and face their killer so that they can die with -dignity-, but this bitch, THIS bitch, remains solidly unconscious, as if she hadn't even felt his attempted murder at all.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Are you FUCKING KIDDING ME?! His green eyes were saucers of hate when his hands suddenly snap forward, and the wire had clearly snapped. He had only covered the lower part of his face, and Damian's sheer anger and surprise at this situation was...palpable.

  He hadn't planned more than two murder methods. He'd before now, never NEEDED more than one, much less a backup needed using.

  The last ditch he had. He didn't even plan on using the katana at his back, it was just a piece of kit he had as a just in case he had to cut the zip line.

  He reached behind himself, and pulled out the sword, the ninjato that he had used all through his time in the League. As he moved to hit her on the neck, he made probably the most angriest face he's ever made. This was it. This was going to be the coup de gras. A swift strike downward, the razor sharp sword falling, ready to bite into flesh as dutifully as it always had.

Karen Starr has posed:
    The world isn't fair. Why won't this woman just -die- already?! Damian's anger is, through a certain lens- which may be the lens of one of those colorful kaleidoscopes that shifts around as you twist it- perfectly justifiable. Frankly, if the League knew about this string of unsuccessful murder attempts, he'd be sent to his grandfather's office and, likely, be given some form of remedial murdering lessons. (If we're being fair, students of the League with lesser potential than Damian usually end up very dead for things like this.)

    Thus, all attempts at just pleasantly murdering someone are thrown out of the window. She had her chance. Damian had, frankly, been very gracious. A nice, quiet death in her sleep. Suffocation is a torturous thing, but still, she'd have left a body you could put in a casket. That is a graciousness that counts. Now? Now she was going to be some gruesomely headless corpse for the police to find and investigate.

    The blade makes a swift, airy noise as it cleaves downwards, and Damian's skill sees that it strikes true, coming down right on the nape of her neck, and then bouncing off as if he'd struck a steel beam with the core of the blade. The metal vibrates, enough that weaker hands with less skill would go numb holding onto it.

    It also lets out a long, loud metallic /tone./

    This has various effects. The least of which is that Stinky gets up from his position on the bed, and scampers off to eat in response to being awoken, as cats are wont to do. The most of which is that Karen rouses. Sitting up in the bed slightly, her hand shoots out and with a sudden slam delivers a death blow to her alarm clock, which may be thankful for a true end to its tortured life of being whacked 'lightly' in the morning when Karen searches for the snooze button.

    Then, idly, she reaches over towards Damian, and rather delicately takes the blade of the sword in between her thumb and index finger. With a twist, the rigid metal of the sword snaps, and she drops the blade to the ground. The motion is sincerely similar to the one you would use to just turn off a lamp.

    It's probably by now that Damian will notice the discrepancies of Karen Starr's existence. Namely, that in order to reach for the sword, she's no longer covered below the chest by, really, anything. She was sleeping. Her arms seem burlier than they should be for a soft nerd-turned-CEO. She has a truly unfair amount of abdominal musculature.

    Frankly, if she hadn't just broken his sword, the proper response would be to laugh about the fact that Power Girl goes about most of her usual day wearing a fat suit.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     The tip of the blade fell to the ground, it wasn't light metal, this was true Japanese steel. Much to the chagrin of Ra's, Damian had much more preference for the Japanese metallurgy than that of his Chinese and Middle-Eastern ancestry. But his record (before now at least) spoke for itself. He was easily in the top three assassins in the League. But this...performance, was disgraceful.

  He stood there, as the sword just...was in a perfectly sad state. He places the broken cutlery back in the scabbard, and picks up the broken piece.

  He was out of options, and as proven, Karen Starr was not a normal woman, but things did start making more sense, she was durable and strong, her short hair, glasses not on her face. No...

Karen Starr has posed:
    Ah, but Yes. Of all the apartments in the world to break into, of all the blondes for Damian to have wanted to murder tonight, he happened to have accrued a grudge against the one that is bulletproof and could lift the skyscraper they're currently in.

    There's a sigh. Karen moves her tongue around her mouth a bit, snapping it against her teeth as if she's clearing the cotton. "Is that... I know this. I've had this poison before." she holds up a hand, "It'll... It'll come to me."

    Another few moments pass, and she offers a small sigh. "No. I don't think I was ever told what it was." Blinking the still-fresh sleep from her eyes, she looks at Damian now. God, it all makes sense. The white thing on the couch. The red "towel." The fact the door to the patio was open /so she could leave at super speed without having to break it./

    "You can catch a nap or so on the couch before you fly back to Gotham. I won't call Bruce, but you're leaving the blade, I'm keeping it." She'll put the damn thing on a shelf. "I've got some good coffee, I'll make you a cup in the morning, I wake up at..." her attention shifts to the alarm clock, defiant in death. "Eventually."

    Turning then, she starts to make the motions to move deeper into the bed, before letting out a quiet noise of frustration. The cat, in the process of her speaking to Damian, has returned to the center of the bed.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     As everything had put itself together in his mind, Damian had stood there, staring at Power Girl, at Karen. Then the stirring, and the recognition. Not only of the poison, but to who exactly he was.

  He left the room, to shack up on the couch, his footfalls now audible to normal humans somewhat. He placed the white suit and 'towel' aside, before lying down. "I fucking hate this city." he said, in a hushed tone, lying there on the couch, turned inward to the back.