6226/A Strong Right Paw

A Strong Right Paw
Date of Scene:	15 May 2021
Location:	Gotham HArbor
Synopsis:	The information to continue to hunt for the KGBeast may have made it into their hands at last, but the Joker's involvement definitely throws a wrench into things. Gotham's vigilante's are one step closer to finding out what the true agenda of the Beast's Paw might be.
Cast of Characters:	Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson, Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe, The Joker, Damian Wayne, Zatanna Zatara

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Bruce Wayne has posed:
The machinations of the criminal enterprise known as the Beast's Paw have been on the quiet side for the last several weeks what with the revelation that the KGBeast is at the center of it all. Likely their head. No longer just faces in the shadow, all the enemies that the group has accumulated over the past several months during the efforts to take over the criminal underworld in Gotham City, well, all those foes now have a target to shoot for.

There is still reason to have some doubts over exactly what role the KGBeast is truly playing of course. He tends more towards mercenary work rather then leading such a gambit himself. But he certainly has cause enough to dislike Gotham vigilantes and perhaps his horizons have grown. Either way, it is an excellent reason for the Bat Family to want to find just where he is holed up and see to it that he talks about exactly what his plans happened to be.

That has proven easier said then done. The former Russian agent has a host of experience and all sorts of contacts to call upon and that has proven to be enough to stay one step ahead of his foes. For now. But there are many potential paths to the man that would be king of the Gotham Underworld.

One of them? The KGBeast's right have man: Mikhail Gregario. If anyone would know just where the Beast is hiding out, it would certainly be his most trusted and long serving lieutenant. The issue then? Word on the street suggests that Mikhail has indeed been found. The problem? He has been found by a colition of the gangs that have been under assault and betrayed over again, found by some of the most ruthless criminals in Gotham who have but one goal. To make Gregario talk, to tell them where to find the KGBeast. And then, no doubt, to see that he gets a shallow grave, or dumped in Gotham Harbor or Slaughter Swamp.

No matter how things turn out it's not looking particularly good for Mikhail Gregario.

They would, however, be slightly better if the Bat-clan is able to get their hands on him. Prison is a whole lot better then death afterall. But that has proven to be easier said then done. Bushes have been stirred, all the local informants rattled and with days of efforts under their belts the only thing they have to show for their troubles is a number. 16B.

Fortunately they don't need a whole lot else to go on. They're detectives for a reason. Wharf 16B, Gotham Harbor. With the freighter the Hunter's Mark currently docked there. A smuggling vessel that isn't quite as carefully hidden as their partners in the Ghost Dragons might believe. Certainly it is the most likely target. And so the word has gone out, filtered no doubt by Oracle.

Unless this is a very clever diversion or some sort of trap, this certainly seems to be the place. The heavy freighter is loaded down with cargo containers, overflowing to the point that many are lashed to the deck. Which is nothing unusual in and of itself. No, that would come in the form fo all the shadowy figures that are walking the decks at the moment. Perhaps they believe that they have a certain anonymity from the dark. But it won't be hard for those more gifted observers to note something interesting about the armed individuals swarming the ship. A handful of what appear to be freighter crew are certainly there, as well as their Ghost Dragon contacts. But so too can be seen LoBoyz and Street Demons. Even a handful of thungs wearing the colors of the Burnley Town Massive along with men in masks that are almost certainly part of the False Face Society.

It would seem that the Beast's Paw has indeed unified the Gotham Underground in at least one thing. A desire to see them all dead.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Nightwing perches on the roof of a warehouse overlooking the ship in question, shrouded in a cloak of shadows. The optics in his mask give him a clear view of the ship, and he's currently observing numbers and trying to see if there's any pattern to movements, or if he's just watching a bunch of thugs wander randomly around. Opening a comm channel to the other Bats, he starts reporting what he sees, <<Ok, this one's going to be a little ugly, there are a lot of guys down there. Our normal 'grab one while the others aren't looking' is a lot harder to pull off in a crowd. We're going to want to try and pick people off from the edges, I think, unless we want to do something out of character and actually flat out attack them. I wouldn't suggest that, too many chances something could go badly wrong.>>

He's not moving yet, waiting to see what the others have to contribute so they can move in with a plan. There's too many people gathered on the ship to charge into this stupidly.

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
Misfit is sitting down the way from Nightwing on the edge of the warehouse roof. At least she isn't kicking her feet as she waits for go time.

Her head cocks to the side like a golden retriever as she listens to the run down on what Nightwing is seeing down there and looks thoughtful off towards the Wharf. <<Thinning the herd is a sound tactic.>> she pauses <<I am definitely getting sick of this KGBeast guy causing us to keep having to save bad guys from bad guys. I mean not saying we should let bad guys hurt bad guys... but this is lame.>>

That's right. Charlie telling it how it is.

The Joker has posed:
A few kids in leather jackets, shaved heads, and strange spiked jewelry look at each other.

"Lotta oldblood here, Rob." The one who's wearing a pin saying 'HI MY NAME IS BOB' says, picking his nails with a knife.

"Blood's blood, be heard." The one saying 'HI MY NAME IS ROB' says slapping his friend upside the head. "We here for Billy Berserk. We dorite."

"I hear so berserk he be WILLIAM here."

"Just keep trapshut and peep BOB. We see how oldblood do it. We see why they weak. We see what to do right, when we get our shot."

"When we kill Batman." BOB says, filed teeth gleaming.

A short, serious looking man in a suit and a bowling jacket with a picture of a cat mask on it frowns, but focuses on patrol. They've got a point, when the hell did the Ghost Dragon Tong get this sloppy? Moving away from those 'Mutant' kids, another Bob entirely talks into his lapel. "Nothing so far, but my neck's itching, uh, Catman. Hearing things we don't like either."

A pair of red lips stretch into a smile behind an armored mask shaped vaguely like a leopard. He also speaks into a lapel with a radio receiver inside; a private, guarded frequency, but 'Catman' knows he might as well be giving his position away. "Thank you, Robert. As always, your responsible attitude is what keeps this parade afloat."

He's too thin to be Catman; but the tall man with the pale skin showed up when a False Face lieutenant called in for costumed backup in case of the worst. The Justice League's been in Gotham in full force a few times in the past few weeks, and no one's happy about the escalation outside of the usual scumbag super-mercs. Also Catman usually doesn't wear a suit, which is admittedly colored orange, yellow and black to match the cape and cowl. The disguise is so half baked it's almost unnerving. People are whispering; criminals are superstitious, and easily spooked, and something as simple as someone impersonating Catman has the effect of throwing everyone off their game. Patrols are subtly more erratic, people are drawing heat faster and not waiting to be provoked, and there's a sense of palpable fear in the air, as though everyone's waiting for something to go wrong.

Or, from another perspective, the guards are suddenly far less predictable, more likely to attack immediately instead of investigating disturbances, and in a state of awareness instead of allowing their numbers to make them complacent.

'Catman' glides through the inner levels of the ship, as if bored with the game of riling the guards now. He outright ignores his 'fellow bosses' unless directly stopped, making a line for Gregario directly. "Catman' might be stopped, of course, that's all a part of what makes life so exciting.

"Hello, Mister Gregario." 'Catman' says softly, "I'd like to have a brief conversation with you, if that's alright."

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Robin was posted on another rooftop, a different angle to get for the group. <<I agree. Too much to start in the middle of it all. We need to rely on as much stealth as possible.>>

  Robin's first to fingers on his right hand were pressed to the temple of his mask. <<An ingress from the bow or stern first will allow for at least some of the outer guards to be grabbed.>>

  <<Coordination is the key here. Make sure you don't get seen, or else we are in for a much harder fight.>>

Bruce Wayne has posed:
If there is one small mercy to be mined out of the situation on the heavy freighter it might be that they appear to be dealing with the petty thugs of Gotham. To be sure these are some of the most powerful gangs in the city, but the best and brightest aren't likely to be walking the decks. These won't be trained mercenaries with combat experience. At least not beyond the streets of Gotham. Of course, the streets in this city might be able to give some professionals lessons still.

But certainly the sentries definitely display that they are amateurs. There is a certain pattern, a certain rhythm. But it's not perfect and occasionally there are clearly holes in the patrol that would give anyone even a little capable a chance to get aboard without being seen. Yes, they have snipers up on top of the bridge, but both men look bored to tears and half-asleep, looking like they are spending more effort to stay awake then keeping watch on the docks or the water.

Constant vigilance is extremely hard for any human being to maintain, no matter how hard they might try. It is one of the reasons that the Dark Knight hammers home to need for it so regularly.

"Avoid the frontal assault if you can. Avoid drawing attention to yourselves as long as possible. If we make too much noise it's possible that they will decide to kill their captive rather then let anyone else have him," comes Batman's grim tones over the comm. It makes no sense of course, for them to do that. If they kill Mikhail they won't be able to find the KGBeast either. But the criminal mind is rarely particularly steeped in reason. "We can't be sure, but the most likely place for them to be keeping him is in the cargo hold, close to the engine room. It's far enough onboard that there are lairs of thugs to get through and there is no chance of anyone spotting him through a window like if they were keeping him on the bridge. And the engines will mask any noise if they decide that they need to extract the information from him more forcefully," he says grimly.

It's never ideal, saving criminals. It's easy to forget that they are human beings too. That everyone deserves a chance to reform, to change. Even the worst of the worst. It's one of the reasons why he takes such a hardline against those in their business who don't have a great deal of respect for the lives of even the worst of them. "If you're seen start laying down gas and smoke, go for your rebreathers and try to find the target and get out. The information and Mikhail Gregario's life is what's important here," the Dark Knight adds before he leaps from his own perch, a dark silhouette saoring towards the waiting vessel.

Inside the ship, tied to the chair amongst towering stacks of cargo containers sits Mikhail Gregario. The metal containers and hull vibrate and throb with the sound of those powerful engines providing power to the ship. The man slumps in his seat, long, shaggy hair hanging out over his forehead and face, little cuts on his face leaving smears of dried blood on his flesh. One side of his jaw looks swollen -- again, a bad idea to hit someone in the mouth when you're trying to make them talk -- but he lifts his head a little as 'Catman' approaches, contempt in those eyes. He's a hard man. But he has no idea just who he's dealing with here. "I say nothing," he says, trying to spit at the latest of his tormentors.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Nightwing nods to himself as the others weigh in on the situation. <<Ok, I'm going to go for the snipers, they're the most likely to spot the rest of you trying to pick off thugs from the edges. Once they're out of the way, we mainly have the deck level thugs to deal with. And from the top, I can aim you guys at vulnerable spots.>> He's in his newer, more heavily armored and gadget intensive suit today. Fitting action to words, he extends gliding wings from the pod on his back and launches himself towards the roof of the bridge, silently cutting through the air. As he approaches, he raises one arm and with a *PHUT* of compressed gas fires a tranq dart into the nearest sniper, then lands, rolls past the darted criminal and launches a kick towards the face of the second sniper in an attempt to put him down quickly and quietly.

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
Charlie siiiiiighs <<I wanted the snipers>> she mildly complains. Mostly because she could have got up there way easier than Nightwing to be honest.

Still it is only the mildest of complaints and really she is happy to be here despite them helping bad guys again. This is like the first real big team mission she has been on since she got her own body back. The last time anything KGbeast related went down she was in that other body and it was a whole different scenario.

Misfit hops up to her feet and gets a good eye on her intended target through a bit of mask optics, using one of the Wharf Camera feeds curtesy of the Oracle Array. The next thing she does is leap off the building, letting herself get a bit of momentum before vanishing into thin air.

A heartbeat later she appears above two of the gang members walking a patrol together for safety on the outskirts of the operation. Her weighted boots connect hard with the momentum of her leap in the side of Gang Member Numero Uno's head. That kick redirects her and she twists wrapping her arms around Numero Dos's right arm and head and takes him down to the ground hard. Bouncing his head against the deck with a THUNK.

No one is dead but those two average criminals are out cold. <<Two Street Demons down.>> she murmurs over the comms.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Among the warren of the cargo containers are those who are not the brave and the bold - but, of course, cowardly and superstitious. If they were here to begin with, they are probably not good people, but even bad people may turn outside of themselves in a crunch.

In Shadowcrest Manor, Zatanna Zatara's phone rings. That's a little odd to begin with: when she answers, she is greeted with metallic, heavy breathing.

"Hello?" Zatanna asks the voice.

The answer is raspy, distorted. "Z-- Zatanna? Zatanna Zatara?"

"Yeah -- are you calling from inside of a building? You sound really--"

"This is Leo," the voice rasps. Zatanna puts things together. East coast, Italian-American, late fifties-ish? But... "I knew your father," Leo says, desperately. "I saw your show, in Vegas. You remember? We got pr, proscuttio after. I showed you that, picture from the, the big show, '82."

"... Leo Funetti?" Zatanna says, wonderingly. "How did you get my number?"

"Listen," Leo gasps, "listen, I want to tell you, I'm in deep shit, Zatanna. I'm begging you. I know things, just - like, I'm gonna die in here."

"Is it your heart? I can't do anything from here, but,"

"There's like thirty frickin' thugs with guns stompin around out here like it's some kinda frickin' after the bomb movie, Zatanna," Leo wheezes, "and I can't - I can't leave here, I'm stuck, if I go out they're gonna cap me, they get in HERE they're gonna cap me. Please, I'm begging you."

Zatanna opens her mouth. Leo takes his last shot: "for your father's sake," he wheezes.

Two heartbeats later, Zatanna says, "Don't go anywhere. Lock the door if you can."

"Thank you," he gasps.

A few moments later: "ittenuF oeL ot em ekaT"

And a moment after THAT:

There is a dark blue ripple in space directly in view of the open door of the purser's office, somewhere in the bowels of the ship. Zatanna Zatara, in a T-shirt and yoga pants and a pair of sandals, is primed to look skeptical, almost pissed-off. There is a hot second where she looks around and goggles as if to realize: he wasn't kidding!

From behind the purser's desk, where Leo Funetti is huddling in terror, comes a harsh rasping hiss, "Get DOWN!"

Damian Wayne has posed:
     <<Just get it done. Robin returns his view to normal, before he takes an assessment of the bow, noting a good place to grab ahold of the ledge.

  Once Robin has his flight path, he takes off, extending his cape to glide to the back of a railing, grasping it with his hands as he awaits his prey.

  One thug on the outskirts gets a little too close, and Robin pulls himself up with his left arm, and grabs with his right. Taking the guy off his balance and dropping him off the side of the ship, where he would be left to dangle until the authorities arrive.

  <<Robin on the bow.>> Over the subvocal as he approaches another guard, putting him in a chokehold as they both go down on the ground. Damian feels the consciousness drain from the guard, and in that moment before consciousness stops draining, and the life begins to fade...he releases the grip on the guy's neck. >tt< It still would have been better his way.

The Joker has posed:
There's a main in a Lion mask who watches Nightwing beat the living hell out of a pair of Ghost Dragon snipers. He's holding three cups of coffee and stops, just before entering the room, holding very, very still and hoping the world famous Nightwing cannot hear him breathe. He tips a slim packet of powder into one of the lattes very, very slowly.

Misfit, there's a man smoking a pipe as you paste the Street Demons. He's fat, but that kind of fat that could probably put someone through a wall if they got really serious about it; freight train sort of fat. He's wearing an undersized t-shirt, jacket with a cat symbol on it, and a mask shaped like a familiar japanese mascot character. He is also aiming a shotgun at you.

"They ran out of cat masks." The big man says, conversationally, to Misfit. "Made me dress up like a Pokeman, can you believe it? My name's Boffo, by the way. You're new, right? What are you, Bluebird? Starling? Seagull?"

Zatanna, among the other people in the bowels of the ship is a seven foot tall man in a cheetah mask. His name is Dwayne and he's got a pair of nunchucks. "I thought I heard screaming!" He says to no one, still new to the gang, and rushes towards it.

'Catman' is spit in the face. There's a long moment.

"Hah." 'Catman' laughs, wiping the spit off, "Hah hah hah! Grim Russian determinism. I'm, ah, doing some business with your countrymen and boy, let me tell you, that shit gets old quick. Everything's colder in Russia and bleaker in Russia and less hopeful in Russia, your politicians are meaner and your gangsters are nastier and your drugs are rawer and I'm from Gotham! You'd think I'd be used to that shit! It all reminds me of a joke."

'Catman' pulls an old fashioned set of fake teeth out of his cloak, and attaches it to Gregario's left hand. He winds it up, and with every wind, the jaws clench tighter, like a vice. "Man walks into a shoe shop, he asks for a pair of shoes. What size, the cobbler says, and man says, I wear a ten, so give me five, and cobbler says why would you want that? Ah, man says, I am wise, if I have bad shoes, when I take them off, I'll get one moment of pleasure every day." Twist, twist, twist, as the leopard mask falls off, the Joker's face visibly twisted in rage. "I really think that sums you people up neatly."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
They have their work cut out for them to be sure. But they have certainly dealt with more difficult tactical scenarios. Of course, what they've accomplished in the past matters very little right here in this moment. A man's life is on the line, and the fact that it is a killer's doesn't really change the equation. At least for the Dark Knight.

Then there is that information to consider as well. Batman still has very strong doubts that the KGBeast us truly the brains of this operation here. But to prove that, to find out what's really going on, that means getting to the former Russian agents and making him talk.

So with them divving up tasks the Dark Knight seizes upon his opening as well, that Bat-shaped silhouette soaring towards the rear of the vessel and the entrance to the cargo hold there. While Nightwing deals with the snipers up top, Robin with the bow and Misfit with the patrolling thugs on the fringes, he goes to clear the path so they can get down unobserved.

He is far from being a lightweight, but one would never know it with the stealth and grace with which he touches down atop one of the cargo container towers in the rear of the ship. A half-dozen men stand around the hatch that leads below decks and behind his mask the Dark Knight narrows his eyes, starting into that maze that surrounds the area, stalking the patrolling guards that move in amongst the cargo containers. He flits from one to another, taking advantage of his elevated position -- I HAVE THE HIGH GROUND -- to wing batarangs with pinpoint precision, clipping patrolling thugs across the temple and leaving them sprawled on the deck, unconscious. Others get the drop down treatment, those de-cel jumplines allowing him to lower right behind them, clamping a gloved hand over their mouths as he simultaneously cuts off the flow of blood to the brain, leaving another pair passed out on the deck.

"See if you can take out the bridge as well. We don't want them calling for more reinforcements," he murmurs, clearing out that maze around the hatch before starting back towards that gathered force preventing easy access to the lower decks.

While the upper decks of the freighter Hunter's Mark might be bursting to overflow with armed thugs, it isn't exactly deserted down below either. With so many gangs wanting a piece of the Beast's Paw, so many wanting to make sure that they're not cut out of geting revenge -- and peeling off any sort of benefit or spoils that might be left lying around either -- there are men to spare. If anything it's likely that Leo has under-estimated the number of people onboard. Like for instance the pair of LoBoys in biking leathers that are picking their way through the narrow passages that fill the underbelly of the ship, their semi-automatics drawn as they approach the purser's office. "...told ya that I thought I heard something this way last time we passed through the compartment. Not stop your complainin' and help me look. Before one of those creepy False Face assholes comes down this way." Ooops.

There is no doubt that Mikhail Gregario is a big, tough man. He did his tours of duty in the Russian military, an elite Spetsnaz commando. He's been a mercenary for nearly ten years and done more then his fair share of heinous things. When the 'Catman' clamps those teeth on him he just grits his teeth and continues to let his eyes reflect defiance and contempt. But when that mask falls away, that tough as nails merc goes pale as a ghost. "Bohze moi..."

Dick Grayson has posed:
With both snipers out, Nightwing grabs the edge of the roof and smoothly flips over and around, hitting the door to the bridge feet-first and kicking it open, his body following through the opening. He rolls, taking a second to get an idea how many people he's just put himself in the room with, then fires another tranq dart at the closest and pulls his batons from his back, instantly moving to swing at the next gang member in line. Leg sweeps combined with baton strikes should make fairly short work of any regular criminals inhabiting the bridge of the ship. One baton jabs into the comm equipment and a button press crackles a fairly serious charge through it, which should shut down any hope of calling for help from here.

<<Bridge clear, so far I'm not seeing any signs that they know we're here. Robin, got a group of three headed up toward the bow, be ready.>>

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
Okay that is both surprising and not good at all. "Honestly that doesn't seem very fair to you. I mean if everyone else got actual cat masks you deserve one too Boffo." notes the teen caped crusader from where she is laying on the ground one arm around a Demon Boyz neck.

The guy she kicked in the side of the head stirs with a groan and she scissor kicks him firmly unconcious as she maintains eye contact with Boffo the Pokemon.

"Surprisingly not bird themed, which honestly I probably should have gone with in hindsight... maybe Mockingbird. Wonder if that one is taken...." she is just chipperly chatting with the guy.

Then there is a slash of pink and purple smoke where she was and she is standing beside him striking out to grab and twist the shotgun. Aiming to twist and wrench it with proper angle and force to probably break his finger and prevent the gun from going off. "Sorry" she notes sounding remorseful about it even. "You can call me Misfit."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna moves to get behind the desk. It's pretty cramped, and so since Leo is occupying most of the space, Zatanna kind of just... crouches. It would at least make her slightly more concealed than she is otherwise, and harder to spot as just 'some lady standing in the space where you go to get your pay packet'.

"how did you get here!" Leo hisses at her.

Zatanna's eyes turn outwards, and she cranes her head forwards. "Magic," she answers Leo, as she thinks she can see... a glimpse, past the door, of... a tall figure, so tall as to be unwholesome, sickly, almost alien... wearing a jaguar? helmet.

"you shitting me? you just magic yourself here? you shittin' your old man's friend?"

"Nope," Zatanna says.

"can you just... magic all the fuckin street boys away?"

"I don't know where they all are, but like, in theory, yes, in practice, way harder."

"how is it harder! jesus christ! I knew your old man was some kinda warlock but I thought he was just like a weirdo, I didn't know he hung out with the devil! how is it harder?"

"Well it's like how I was gonna call someone to help you out but then you brought up my father like six times and now I came to do it myself," Zatanna answers.

"thank you for that. but how is it like that?"

"Magic has consequences," Zatanna continues. "Like how I'm pretty /upset/ that you jammed your thumb into my feelings like you were working the button on a pinball mach..." She trails off, hearing footsteps. Grasping a pen out of the nautical mug on the desk, she grasps it as if it were a wand; it's ridiculous, but it's comforting. She sees the tall man with the nunchucks coming--

And this is a place where mystical awareness doesn't trump everything. In the clanging clamour of the ship, Zatanna heard a bunch of footsteps and assumed it was one guy making a lot of noise. Not unreasonable, but it is why when she says: "won ssob ruoy si annataZ!" she is only addressing that big boy: Dwayne.

After the silent wave of sorcery, Zatanna hears other footsteps. ("Mary mother of God please have mercy on me," Leo moans from cover, anticipating imminent death.)

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Robin continues his way into the ship, finding a door in the bulkhead to enter, ready to find his way down farther into the belly of the ship.

  Robin held out a batarang in his hand ready to throw at a ganger should he encounter one as he searched the rooms. Before the stairway to the lower decks, he found one, and while he did enjoy a good fight, these guys were hardly that. This was just routine cleanup for a clean getaway. Hardly making a sound, Robin approaches from the guard's blind spot, always watching and moving to be in the best possible location before he was close enough to strike with his leg to take out the knees from behind, and as the thug fell backward, a fist to the chin, knocking him out like a lightbulb. "Sweet dreams." He said, picking up the gun the guard had, and rendering it useless with a quick mag and bolt strip, the ammo tossed from a porthole into the briney deep.

  Now to venture further down, into the belly of the ship.

The Joker has posed:
Lion-mask breathes, and runs down towards the car. They're going to be leaving, soon, with this many capes sniffing around. And it's SAFE being the getaway man.

Boffo lets out a choking, flemmy cough as his finger is broken thanks to Misfit being able to teleport. He wasn't expecting that. The gun doesn't even go off! Boffo has survived working for the Joker since the beginning, though, which can only be attributed to being the sort of thing people use for metaphors when describing how tough and vicious people are. Instead of responding to Misfit, he notes her hands are full, and sends a brutal haymaker right for her jaw, moving to try and use the ugly, painful finger hold to keep her trapped close to him.

Leopard mask takes a look at the woman in a bathrobe, blinks.

And takes the mask off, revealing a man in clown makeup. "Oh are we done, Mister J?" Dwayne says, eyes lidded from Zatanna's magic. "This guy get in your way?" He says, pointing his weapon at Leo, "You want me to take care of him? Johnny's probably got the car hot by now."

"I'm going to tone down the vocabulary because it seems to me we're having what I'd call a misunderstanding, right now." Joker says, and his left arm surges forward, grabbing Gregario by the throat and slamming his head against the back of the chair, his voice lowering to a knife point's intensity. "I am in the middle of a fifty billion dollar deal, here, and suddenly Putin's favorite off the books boy shows up and starts paying Gotham face. That's not his mo, that's not how he works, you are UP to SOMETHING and if it costs me fifty billion dollars not even BATMAN will save you from me, do you understand, where is he, where is your boss hiding, NOW." Joker's eyes are horrible little yellow pinpricks of hate, the mask fully off, the Harlequin of Hate fully revealed for the unfortunate, terrified guards in the room.

It is making a bit of noise.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
It is going rather smoothly thus far. It is one of the advantages of constant training and drilling and practice. It's to help produce evenings like this, whenn everything more or less flows like a finely tuned clock, every tick perfect, in time with the next.

Of course, it's also not uncommon for this being the moment when the floor drops out from under them and everything goes to hell. The finest wrought plans and all of that. Maybe that's the reason why the Dark Knight insists on having a backup. And then a backup to the backup. And then so on, and so on.

"Good work," comes that growly tone over the comm. He did commit to try and be a little bit easier to get along with. It's not as if being a little less heavy handed has suddenly encouraged all his protegees to slack off and get careless so they might have had a point. "I'm at the rear hatch and no signs that we've been detected. Clean up what you're working on and start down below decks.

While a few scattered patrols still wander around the main deck of the freighter, they are thinned out considerably, none yet noticing their missing colleagues. But then that might be the other thing going for them. There might be a lot of criminals on board, but with all the different gangs represented, none of them appear to be truly coordinating.

Of course sometimes coordination isn't all that necesssary. Like when you have six people standing around one hatch. Just pick a direction and point your gun. Hard to go wrong there. The Dark Knight eyes his target, expression grim. Then, drawing his grapnel from his belt he aims it towards one of the loading cranes overhead, firing it off with the soft hiss of released compressed air. He starts to soar upwards, waiting until he is right over that hatch before hurling a handful of gelatin capsules downward and letting his own momentum cease and then fall away, dropping afterwards. As the capsules hit the deck in amongst the thugs they burst open, billowing clouds of sickly, greenish-yellow smoke beginning to burst out. Crises of surprise are quickly cut off by choked gasps as the tear gas does it's work. Slipping a rebreather into his mouth, Batman touches down in the center of those thugs, the heavy mists obscuring him, both sight and sound. By the time the gas clears there are a half dozen men down on the deck, just as unconscious as those in the cargo container maze. And the hatch stands open with Batman nowhere to be seen.

It's probably not Leo that Zatanna happens to be talking about but instead the pair of LoBoyz that appear behind the enchanted Dwayne, brows furrowed and trying to peer past the man into the purser's office. "What you doin' in this part of the ship, freak? We're responsible for keepin' it clear. How who da hell you talkin' to anyway?" the pair ask, those guns rising if joined together to level at the False Face obstruction standing between them and whatever -- or whoever -- is in the office beyond.

He's tough, but he's hardly the first strong man that has practically wet themselves when the Joker confronts them. He would squirm away, but bound to the chair there's nowhere to go. And those false teeth continue to grind away at him, fingers held in that vice-like grip, on the verge of breaking. "I... I..." he says, trying to recover that brave face. He tries to look away, but he can't pull himself away from the sheer hatred and madness in that gaze. And where cutting, and punching could not break him down, in the end it is only the look in Joker's eyes as he whispers out the likely location of the KGBeastm his body sagging once more in his bonds.

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
Charlie is a bit sad.

Sad because she had to hurt the Pikachu guy named Boffo.

Sad because she probably should have picked a bird name.

Sad because apparently he doesn't want to talk anymore and wants to beat the snot out of her.

She manages to twist and take the haymaker to the shoulder instead of her jay "Ow.. crackers .. what are you a meta?" nope just big and beefy. Man that hurt.

The strategy was pretty solid, keep her close and and beat the snot out of her. Problem is she vanishes from his grip with the shotgun now in another slash of smoke and heartbeat later she is bringing the shotgun around and down hard like a baseball bat to his skull from up in the air behind him. Improvised Sap. Kid is storng and good with the use of gravity too boot.

"Maybe Shrike if Mockingbird is taken... tho they are morbid little murder birds..." back to the chipper banter. Not even favoring her shoulder now.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Nightwing leaves behind a bridge of unconscious criminals as he opens the door that leads into the ship and heads towards the aft cargo bay. He moves as quickly as he can while still remaining silent. With a combination of tranq darts and baton strikes, he clears the hallway on the way to the cargo bay. Reaching the door to the bay, he peeks around the corner to spot two men in masks guarding the door and actually remaining alert. He pulls a breather off his utility belt and slips it over his nose and mouth, then tosses a gas pellet around the corner to land between the guards. As it explodes into a cloud, he charges around the corner, rolls, and strikes up at them with one baton each, arcs of electricity zapping out from them to drop the two men where they stand. He moves up to the door and peers through to see what lies beyond.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Mister J, Zatanna thinks.

He thinks I'm

the

Oh, crap, Zatanna thinks. She coughs once and raises a hand. "No, no; we're great friends, Leo and I. He's going to uh... he's going to help me work on my new... material, later. Let's just get out of here. Say, you've been doing great; let's go over our plan here, on the way -"

She hears somene getting messed up in the distance. She keeps her eyes on Dwayne.

AND THAT is when the distinctly un-enchanted LoBoyz come through. Zatanna curses herself. Yeah, those guys. Why couldn't they have left? Gang tension. "We're working on our improv, boys!" Zatanna says, because you have to push your way through the flop sweat. "You just keep on moving; check in with the others. Remember the first rule of improv," and as she says this Zatanna waves urgently to Leo to STAY DOWN:

"Never, EVER, say *no*. Now lower those gats and keep on trucking!" Her eyes widen as she glares at them, and a moment later, she grins so intensely hard that her cheeks start to rebel immediately. "Hoo hoo heheheheh," she continues, upper lip curling back a little. The pen is raised upwards; mightier perhaps than the sword, but her eyes are on the guns.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian makes his way down towards the lower decks of the ship, equipping his tear gas pellets along with placing the rebreather on his face, it was quick, and it was effective. It almost made Damian a little disappointed since there is no fight involved.

  Tossing pellets in various occupied rooms, Robin continues down, where he heard a bit of a ruckus. He hadn't heard Joker's voice distinctly, but he knew there had to be something there in that cargo hold...

The Joker has posed:
"That like a polite way of saying mutie?" Boffo asks, as he's sapped in the face with his own shotgun. He loses a tooth and his eye is swollen in a nasty way but, worst of all, his greasy, pock-marked grin just widens. "Maybe. It'd explain a lot. Never got tested, never let any of those dumb robots near me either. Shrike's taken, though. Tech guy, works Maggia, Ten Rings, those usual suited up crews. What about whippoorwill?" Boffo moves as if trying to grab Misfit again, but instead touches a flower on his lapel. There's a hiss of smoke as a stream of what is almost certainly acid comes screaming out towards her!

Dwayne does not think anything Zatanna, The Boss, is doing is unusual. Boffo warns all of them to just go with the flow and understand when it's time to leave the room so you aren't the one he shoots to make a point. "Am I supposed to...guess the plan? You were supposed to be with the Russian guy, and I was supposed to make sure these idiots didn't let Batman in."

"Put those guns down, boys, and I see one aimed at Mister J and you'll be eating it." Dwayne says in that same cheerful, matter of fact tone of voice. "He's a brilliant man and doesn't have time for your penny ante horseshit."

The Joker looks at Gregario, and gently cups his face with a gloved hand. "Was that so hard?"

Joker gently undoes the vice, puts it back into his coat, and brushes the dust off of said coat as if he'd just done a mildly distasteful job. "I suppose I did lose my temper there a little bit. And over something as tawdry as money! How embarrassing."

Joker moves like a snake; he's turned around, gun in hand, and putting a bullet in the Ghost Dragon's head before anyone else in the room can register movement. Another bullet goes in the second Dragon's neck, and a third in the chest to ensure the man's dead.

"Well I know you won't say anything." Joker explains to Gregario, adjusts his tie, and walks towards the office door. He opens it at the exact second Robin is checking the area out; the timing is almost, well, comic.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
The lower levels of the rear of the ship are surprisingly bereft of armed gang members. It's almost enough to make Batman doubt that his assumptions about where they would find Mikhail Gregario are correct. They are based on logic afterall, and as they've already determined there is not always a lot of logic or reason in the mind of Gotham criminals. As he emerges into that cavernous cargo hold, the stacks of cargo containers neatly arranged and rising neatly to the roof overhead. And despite the possibility that he was wrong, he still sets out towards the back of the hold.

He can hear it, just up ahead. Can hear muted voices, lost to the hum of those engines just one compartment further. Even all the little tricks built into his uniform can't enhance the sound enough to make it intelligible. And there, standing guard over a gap in the cargo containers are a pair of ape-masked False Facers.

In an instant the Dark Knight is on them and despite their formidable bulk he doesn't hesitate to close the distance, getting in tight to take away any of their leverage, fending off blows while he goes for their weak points -- lashing out at knees and elbows, focusing on joints to take them out of the fight hard and fast. There's nothing elegant about it, but it is brutally efficient.

And then he is beyond them at last, just seconds after those gunshots echo through the hold, his gaze sweeping over the area. He catches only a glimpse of a figure darting out of the area but he does not immediately pursue, instead pausing to evaluate. Two down, apparently the Ghost Dragonss guarding Gregario. That's where he moves first, their quarry limp in those bonds, eyes wide and staring after the departing figure before that hollow gaze swings back and takes in the looming Dark Knight. For just a second he starts to say something, and then with one more glance towards the hatchway where the Joker just fled, he swallows hard and clams up. How long will that determination last? Who knows. But in this moment he is highly motivated.

"I've got Gregario. There's two Ghost Dragons down though so either the truce fell apart or there's something else going on," the Dark Knight says grimly over the comm, quickly taking a moment to check each of the downed Ghost Dragons as well before he's back on his feet. He lingers in the room with their primary target though, at least until the area is secured. "Clean it up and then meet me to get our target to a secure location."

At the front of the ship the two LoBoyz stare at Dwayne and Zatanna and Leo with growing confusion. "What da hell you talkin' about?" the slightly larger man asks, brow furrowed. "Enough of this shit..." the other says, stepping forward, gun half-leveled towards the floor as he instead tries to push past Dwayne to grab at Zatanna's wrist.

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
This is great. Boffo is back to bantering.

Charlie dances back with the shotgun. Gosh he is sturdy.... "No Meta are usually something different than Mutants.. or at least that is what I read online." pause "Dangit... well I'm probably not murdery enough for Shrike. Though Whippoorwill has a lot of potential.. not too long though?"

Oh okay flower on the lapel, she twists and ducks taking the acid on her cape and vanishing in another slash of smoke. She doesn't come in from the back, too predictable. She picks the side with the broken trigger finger and the cape is off sizzling (it has quick release snaps, Oracle has so many clever design tricks) as she whips the sizzling side right across Boffo's arms now. Whipping the weighted fabric and trying to tangle him up. The acid probably is just icing on this plan.

<<Hey all, fighting guy who is named Boffo... like a clown.. hits like a truck... acid flower on his lapel despite 'cat' theme. Maybe kinda think the Joker is here maybe?>>

Back to Boffo "Bluejay isn't bad either..." call back to the questions earlier.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Nightwing slips through the door and into the cargo bay as Bruce reports on having found Gregorio. His door isn't the one the Joker is going out of, so he hits no opponents and is shortly next to Gregorio and Bruce. He pulls the breather off his face and replaces it on his belt.

<<Do we just want to take him up and out? I imagine we'll he having GCPD show up sooner or later, and I think we want to talk to him before they get hold of him.>>

He glances at the dead thugs, "They really just can't get along, can they? Even with a mutual enemy attacking all of them."

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
This is going better than I expected, Zatanna mentally reviews. Nobody's gotten killed yet. I'm going to need to get all three of them distracted and I can turn them into toads. And then -- you know what, she thinks, don't think past the toad.

The problem, Zatanna thinks further, is that now I have two guys under no spell, and I know the Joker can't turn people into toads. (I hope.) So it has to be ALL of them. Keeping character sucks. And also, my God, I feel like I'm going to have my face fall off. To Dwayne, she says, "THANK you, *THANK* you. Tell you what, why don't you help my new workshop partner here out and help him get an Uber or something -- we'll -"

At this point her wrist is grabbed.

All in, Zatanna thinks.

"Ooohohoho, I like it! Trust nobody! That's right - I could be a fake," Zatanna continues. "Or... YOU could be. That's a big question, isn't it? It -"

Am I seriously going to:

Yes I am.

"Reminds me of a joke," Zatanna continues. "Did you ever hear this one? A guy's out in the woods with his buddy and he calls 911 on his cell phone. Operator, help, he says. My buddy's hurt bad and I think he might be dead, what should I do."

"Calm down," Zatanna says as she pivots the pen she had been holding in lieu of wand, "the operator said. The first thing we have to do is check to make sure whether or not he really is dead."

"A moment passes! ... Bang! the operator hears on the phone... The caller comes back. OK, he says: Now what?"

C'mon, nerds, Zatanna thinks: Laugh or something. That's going to be more than enough. Jesus, I have to call this in for Batman. How many of these goons has he GOT here? THIS is the point where the (actual, factual, possibly-Harley-dating) Joker starts shooting some distance away, and Zatanna tightens up even if she doesn't flinch at the echoing sounds.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian made his way through the cargo hold and to the office between the two, his moves were as silent as possible still. But things were about to take a turn.

  moving right into the office, as The Joker opened the other door... "Shit." Is about all he can say before his fight or flight response chooses (as it always does) fight. The youngest Wayne starts to run toward Joker while juking, knowing the Clown Prince of Crime always had a firearm.

The Joker has posed:
Boffo is smashed in the face with a burning shotgun. This isn't one of his GOOD days.

Thankfully, Johnny Frost reads the streets like the twitching of a spider's web. The Jokermobile (There's a paper "NOT THE JOKERMOBILE" across the hood, this may confuse Misfit.) skids up to the stumbling, bleeding Boffo. "Hey, kid, do yourself a favor. Adult swim if you follow us, get me?" The amiable henchman says, leaping in as Johnny moves to peel out.

Dwayne is approached by aggressive people. Worse, his BOSS is approached by aggressive people.

He moves like a blur, "Tai-bo!" He shouts, swinging one hand to crush the wrist of the LoBoy's gun arm, while the other swings the nunchuck upside his head. Dwayne does some strange flip...thing that ends up with the LoBoy on the ground. "That was a jolly jape, sir!" Dwayne says loyally, despite clearly not getting the joke. "We should get out of here, if things are turning bad that means the Bat's around."

Joker avoids Batman and Nightwing (score) just to run directly into Robin.

"Shit." Joker says, as the kid charges directly at him because apparently Batman decided he needed a 'crazy' Robin. "Come on, kid, I'm on a schedule. You can try and beat up Toyman or Metallo or something to impress Daddy Bats, alright?"

Joker hurls a few razor sharp playing cards at Robin, but they're easily dodged. The Clown Prince of Crime seems to be distracted; maybe you could take him out, Damien! Joker's eyes narrow, a little. "That's what it's all about, isn't it? I haven't seen anyone so achingly desperate to prove himself since, well, Batman. Where'd he find you anyway? Hugo Strange grow you in a can or something?"

"You realize the only thing he loves is downward trending crime statistics, right?"

Bruce Wayne has posed:
They have Gregario though it looks like he has no intention of talking. Indeed, he looks scared to death. But not of them. Which perhaps stands to reason. If he's the KGBeast's lieutentant he has probably been well briefed on them and the lines that they don't cross. Well... most of them don't cross at any rate. So if the misison is accomplished, why doesn't it quite feel like it? Perhaps because Batman isn't quite so ready to write off the obvious violence here to a falling out between the gangs.

He does however nod towards Nightwing, his mouth a hard line, expression grim. "We're going to get the information we need from him and then Gordon's men can have him," he says flatly. Due process is a great thing. But who knows what is really going on here with the Beast's Paw. They need to know, and the Dark Knight will do what's necessary to see that any greater threat is addressed.

Which is when Misfit's voice breaks over the comm with the little tidbit of who she's fighting and how he's dressed. He pauses for just a moment in consideration, eyeing the dead Ghost Dragons on the other side of the room. "Oracle, alert the authorities. We're withdrawing now," he says, his tones going positively icy. They almost always do when the Joker is involved. "Keep your eyes peeled," he says unnecesarily to his very first partner, moving to free Mikhail of his bonds and haul him to his feet before draping the man over one shoulder with casual ease.

It's not an easy decision. The Joker's clearly just as dangerous as ever, as demonstrated by two dead Ghost Dragons sprawled nearby. And while the Dark Knight very much wants to charge after him they need this information. Will he regret this decision when the next batch of bodies turns up, felled by the insane clown? Almost certainly. But what else is new? He does what's necessary, not what helps him sleep better.

While the sorceress Zatanna might not be the sadistic master of comedy that Dwayne quite clearly thinks she is, at least the act has got the pratfalls down. The LoBoy reaching for Zee gives a cry of pain, his hand twisted away and the biker slamming into the bulkhead as he does so, going down in the heap. The other is just as unfortuante as those nunchucks slams into the other mad, sending him down in a heap.

Maybe Zatanna should consider bringing on a henchman full time?

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
Man hitting Boffo is basically like what Misfit pictures fighting the Juggernaut must be for the X-men. You keep hitting him. Maybe it hurts. He does not seem to want to go down at all easy.

On the bright side all of that definitely hurt, he is totes bleeding. So he isn't an invulnerable Joker Minion Metahuamn. Right?

She will take the whole retreat thing as a win, palming something from her utlity belt and flinging a tracking disc onto the back of the Not The Jokermobile as it peels out.

The teenager shakes her head as she watches it go. <<Okay. So definitely be on the lookout for The Joker... Boffo totally bailed into a get-away car that had Not The Jokermobile written on it... and um ... oh .. tracking disc on it.>> she sends the active tracking telemetry to everyone for refrence.

With another slash of smoke Misfit is back up on her warehouse overwatch perch, watching the boat. <<Withdrawn. Lemme know if anyone needs help withdrawing.>> cause Charlie is totes ready to dive back in to help.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Nightwing nods as plans change thanks to the Joker's henchmen making an appearance. Gang members pale in comparison to the problem they have now. As the sound of conflict starts up from one side of the cargo bay, he looks to Batman.

<<Take him up, I need to check on that. Bats, check in, everyone ok?>>

He starts moving quickly in the direction the sound is coming from, unwilling to take the chance that one of his siblings has encountered the Joker. One down was bad enough, even if Jason did end up coming back, not an experience anyone needs to repeat. Charlies report comes in, so she's clear, but that leaves one other.

<<Robin, talk to me>>

He's dodging around piles of crates as the sounds of combat get louder.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Zatanna silently goggles at Dwayne's efficient takedown and disabiling of the two gunmen. It seems the fates guided her right when she chose to ensorcel him at the risk of leaving the other two loose. She purses her lips, raises up her pen wand, and says - "BRILLIANT! Now you're probably quite right, yes, absolutely. Here, let me get our associate together -"

"Pssst!" Zatanna says back into the purser's office, waving Leo ever closer.

'are you friggin kidding me with this'
'maaaagiiiiiiic'

Leo emerges, crabbed and awkward. Zatanna silently point-points with the wand-pen towards the groaning, mangled thugs' weapons, as if to tell Leo: TAKE A GUN. FEEL BETTER. FEEL AMERICAN. Leo gets the idea after a couple more 'psssts'.

"If you see the Batman, let me know - I've got a secret weapon - but in the mean time, old salt," Zatanna says to Dwayne, "lead on! I'm going to /crank call him/."

After a second, she adds, "Hoo hoo ha ha. Say, Leonard," Zatanna adds, before mouthing at him 'play along', "Maybe YOU'D like to crank call the Bat! Tell him how you really feel about him!"

"I don't really have a strong - I mean, I hate him! Frigging... Rabies-man," Leo says, reacting to Zatanna shaking her head 'no no no' and then nodding 'yes yes yes'. This is absurd, Zatanna thinks. But this conflict - all that raging - COULD IT really be that he's already here? Her lips purse.

A ricochet from somebody not in the area SPANGs off a bulkhead enough to make Zatanna tighten up again. "Hahahaha! That one, nearly hit me," Zatanna continues. "Let's hustle!"

Someone will probably see them in the process of leaving.

Damian Wayne has posed:
     Damian grits his teeth, before jumping up and aiming his boot right to Joker's midsection. "<<You are your own crime statistic, Joker.>>" Simultaneous comms and speaking aloud, lovely. But it created exactly what he wanted to do, alert the rest of the group just who he ran into.

  Damian was an extremely capable fighter, even still, Joker is a high threat. He made himself push further, harder than ever before.

  His comms remain on, and the scuffle is transmitted for all of the team.

The Joker has posed:
Oh, the cape, Boffo thought, I thought it was the gun because of the blinding acid in my eye. He focuses on cleaning his wounds. "Boss is gonna be mad."

"Always is." Johnny says, driving wild.

Dwayne is, sadly, super under a magic spell. Looks like the good guys got one Joker mobster!

Joker himself has to deal with a face full of angry 10 year old. Thirteen? Six? He can't tell. Joker has a rep for a glass jaw, but the truth is the Clown is a deadly hand to hand combatant. Think about how many times he's nearly killed Batman through fisticuffs alone; Joker ducks a kick, gets a rabbit punch in what he thinks is a kidney, and has had about enough of this little shit and his I can't believe its not the League of Assassins style. "That all you got? Where's the monologue about what a hypocrite I am? I liked that one, very spiky, very teenager. You finally found something to be self righteous about and it's like a drug, yes?"

Joker jukes, talking, talking, even when hit hard. "Have you figured out how I'm getting away yet?" Joker presses a button on his lapel.

There's an explosion! On the boat! Here's the good news: it's not anywhere crucial. No one even dies, though a few people probably get dinged up. Joker is, again, strangely holding back, perhaps trying to prove some bizarre point to Batman, or himself, or the universe. The problem is: no one on board knows that quite yet.

And the sound gives Joker an opening; he grabs Damian's head with his right hand, and with his left pulls out a gun with a boxing glove on the top of it. 'WITH COMPLEMENTS' is written on it in florid script, and Joker savors a moment before aiming it right at Damien's left knee. It fires with hydraulic force, smashing into the knee, leg, and hip with enough power to send Robin flying out of Joker's grip.

Joker wipes blood off of his face, again looking at it for a second before flicking the fluid away. "That could've been your chest." Joker says, stepping delicately over Robin as the Jokermobile starts blaring the horn. "Crack your rib cage into your lungs, choke to death on your own blood. I could've killed you, tonight. But it was an accident, we literally bumped into each other. It was funny..."

"But you, New Robin, you're HILARIOUS. Adieu!" Joker grabs the side of the car as Johnny Frost drives like hell on wheels. "See if you can catch Captain Borscht before I rearrange his insides, eh? HAAAAH HAH HAH HAH!"

Bruce Wayne has posed:
There was a time that he would have been extremely unhappy about the prospects of any of his protegees facing off against the Joker. Indeed, at one time or another he has sidelined each and every one of them from doing just that. Or tried to do so. It has not always worked and usually has created all sorts of tensions and resentment.

But this is a Joker. He has always refused to take a life, or even stand back and let one of his foes die because of their own miscalculations. But you had to think if he would ever make an exception, ever allow himself to react just a second or two too slow, it would be for this man.

He does not say anything as Nightwing rushes off, does not say anything as he checks in with Robin over the comm. But it's not easy either. The impulse is still very much to simply forbid them from confronting the madman.

Maybe he hasn't grown or changed quite as much as he'd like to think. Or maybe he is completely justified in his abundance of caution.

Either way he double-times it up the stairs, back out onto the deck of the freighter. The grapnel appears in his hand as if by magic -- maybe he has a future on the stage too -- and in mere moments he is swinging up to the warehouse rooftop perch where Misfit stands.

Mikhail is dumped at her feet -- a little on the rough side -- and the Dark Knight plants a knee in his back as he handcuffs him, wrists behind his back. "Take him to the safehouse like we discussed," he tells her in that flat tone. "If he gives you trouble, knock him out. We'll be there shortly," he adds. A risk, leaving him with a teenaged girl after all they've gone through to bring him in? Not really. Misfit has proven herself well enough as of late. And she can get him safely ensconced in one of the hidden safehouses he keeps scattered about the city a whole lot more quickly and easily then any of the rest of them.

Besides, he's certainly not leaving. Not when he can hear the sounds of the fight below deck still going on over the open commline. He listens intently, eyes narrowed and ready to swoop in as necessary. But despite that focus on what is playing out over the comm , movement out of the corner of his eye catches his attention and he watches as Zatanna and two other unfamiliar figures begin to scamper to safety off the ship. Now what's going on there? One more thing he'll have to look in on.

Again, before he can give it too much more consideration that explosition rips through the ship below and again he is diving back towards it, airborne once more. "Robin, report," he says sharply over the comm, waiting maybe three seconds before adding, "Nightwing, do you have eyes on him?"

Charlotte Gage-Radcliffe has posed:
Charlie looks down at the guy at her feet as Batman gives out instructions and then turns his attention back to the boat and what might be Damian getting his butt kicked by the Joker.

I mean the comms chatter is really kind of brutal since Damian left his microphone wide open.

Charlie looks back down at the guy at her feet and puffs out her cheeks then crouches down and peers at him. "Don't worry.. I won't take you the fast way. I'm pretty sure we need to ask you questions still and yah know.. moral code and all that." she pats the cuffed thugs cheek. Patpat.

Then she straightens and considers "Um. Batman. I can't teleport a passenger like this..." she sounds really sheepish and contrite. Has she fessed up about this. Maybe not. Shoot. Um. "So uh.. I'll be taking him the long way..." fidget.

Regardless she starts to drag KGBeasts Right Hand Thug off towards the edge of the warehouse roof. Good thing she works out and is in excellent shape.

Dick Grayson has posed:
Nightwing comes around the last pile of crates only to see the Joker vanish out a door... and Robin on the floor nearby. He runs over to the younger man, and drops down to check him. The young man is breathing and not pouring out blood anywhere, so things are better than they could be. "You with me? Where are you hurt? We need to get you out of here before the cops arrive."

<<I've got Robin, he's hurt but alive. Joker's on his way out.>>

When it seems that the problem is not back related, he decides that rather than wait for trouble to arrive, he will try to lift Robin up as carefully as possible if his brother will let him do so. "What say this time I get us out of here and we have that leg looked at?"

If Robin lets him, he carries him to the open cargo hatch and uses his own grapple to bring them up out of the ship. If the young man insists on walking, he'll lend an arm and help him make his way out of the ship.

Zatanna Zatara has posed:
Dwayne guides Zatanna, the Clown Prince of Crime, and her minion upwards.

Dwayne has the further good sense to not lead them through the thick of things!

When they reach the deck, Zatanna peers into the gloom, and opts to get out her cell phone instead. A number is put in. A tip line...

...

"Hello... Batty Bat Bat... Bat-Face," Zatanna says in her normal voice. "This is... /The Joker/. I'm speaking to you through a distortion that may sound like someone you know... BUT WHO? If you think you can find them in time, come to the harbor - you'll know where to go! And now, here's Leo Funetti!"

Zatanna holds the phone out to Leo Funetti.

"Uh," Leo says. "... Screw you, Bats! Uh... I'm not good at improv like this."

"Improv's about growth, Leo! You'll get there! HA HA HA HA HA HA," Zatanna says, before adding in a low voice, "1:22 am on deck satellite gps so on and so forth."

Click.

"Excellent work... excellent work! At this point, we had better split up, old bean. Tell you what, if the Batman finds you, let him take you alive -- I'll signal for you when I need you for the next step. Now take care of yourself, and remember: Listen to your lawyer! God knows it paid off for me," Zatanna tells Dwayne, before --

"C'mon, jog," she tells Leo.

The sounds of Crime and Violence fade out. Leo huffs and puffs but is able to at least time-and-a-half it for a while.

"So - hey - thanks - how can I - repay you," Leo huffs at Zatanna.

"For saving you in the middle of the night?" Zatanna asks.

"Yeah!"

"Well at this stage you should go find a cop and tell them everything, and normally I'm like, aware of the limits of this situation but I'm gonna guess you weren't exactly a hostage there, LEO," Zatanna tells him.

"Ah, geez, you sound just like,"

"tnaruatser lefalaF nepo tseraeN," Zatanna tells Leo, before disappearing.

Alone. He gets to stay here. Is this how wizards get that reputation? But most of them didn't have cell phones...

Damian Wayne has posed:
     It is clear that Joker knows where the weak points in a bat-fam member's armor. The kidney punch is enough to cause some good pain, followed by a hand holding his head, that white face and that sinister grin.

  Robin had flared his eyes wide, and the all white eyelets could see what was about to happen. *POFF!* Damian shouts in pain with the crack of bone underneath that armor, it's not a femur, at least.

  "<<Dammit.>>" Robin pulls himself up, as much as he can while he yells for strength, fighting to get out, at this point, the Joker got away. (Hey!) "I'm okay. My leg is broken I think." He wasn't sure, but the fact that he's actually talking about himself being injured shows Dick how bad it is. He's never so much as allowed Alfred to dote on his injuries before, always stitching himself up unless it was unreachable. But now, he cannot really protest being helped out and back to the cave.