7480/Stare Into The Abyss

Stare Into The Abyss
Date of Scene:	22 August 2021
Location:	Arkham Asylum Grounds
Synopsis:	A crew of Bats, Birds, and adjacent allies oversee a brief window of maintenance at Arkham Asylum that has many of the inmates temporarily housed in the yard. Quick response times on their parts manages to stop a riot before it can start, thwart an assassination before it can be attempted, and uncover a plot that might have had explosive consequences, without casualties. Though a lot of people got punched real hard.
Cast of Characters:	Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, Barbara Gordon, Kate Kane, Carrie Kelley, Lonnie Machin

---

Tim Drake has posed:
    Every inch of Arkham Island (though its official name is actually Mercey) is steeped in history, settled during the early years of New Jersey as a British colony. It's traded hands a time or two since then, and has now been government property for many years.

    Long enough, at least, for its infrastructure to start showing its age.

    The maintenance shut-down has been on the calendar of every department at the Asylum for over a month now. Extra security has already been contracted in, more maintenance has been hired so that the work can continue around the clock as necessary, and everyone waits with bated breath for the absolute chaos that is no doubt going to happen anyway.

    While the majority of the penitentiary's prisoners are currently housed in temporary shelters in the yard, maintenance crews continue their work in what might be considered the literal bowels of the asylum, given they're replacing the grand majority of the septic systems. It's not pleasant work, but it's necessary, as sanitary access is mandated at the federal level for all prisoners.

    

    Of course, the really dangerous inmates have been given the highest priority, and they've been kept inside where limited access has been maintained just so that they aren't housing the Joker or Killer Croc in what is basically a tent. The administrators aren't stupid, even if certain members of Gotham might not be particularly satisfied with their efforts to keep the inmates under lock and key. No, it's mostly the thugs, the ones who have certainly worked for the big names of the Bat's Rogues Gallery but don't have their own gimmick.

    Okay, maybe there are a few. That guy looks like Kite Man. But, y'know. It's Kite Man.

    Dusk has come and gone and people--bad guys and Asylum security alike--are getting nervous. No violence has erupted yet that the guards haven't been able to deal with on their own, just small spats between rival gangs, but the air is tense. Off in the distance, dark clouds obscure the moon and the stars, though the sky brightens with the occasional flash of lightning. Exactly the kind of atmosphere for chaos.

    Thankfully, the Asylum's internal communication is closely monitored. There's a standing notification for anyone not otherwise occupied on patrol or with their own investigations to maintain a presence at the Asylum.

    Red Robin crouches on the edge of a guard tower's roof, cape waving in the wind. He has his staff out and extended, resting casually against his shoulder as he scans the grounds.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
An operation such as this requires all hands on deck, and Bruce knows it. Obviously, there are other members of the Family who, either by design or obstinance, are elsewhere in Gotham and the wider world tonight. But the majority are mustered here, and the Bat oversees the operation with a severe and critical eye.

He's high up among the parapets and flying buttresses of Arkham Asylum, once a fanciful manor of the Gilded Age now turned to a grim fortress. Amidst the gargoyles he crouches, as though he were one of them brought to life by the City's teeth-grinding drive to punish the wicked and misguided alike.

"Hnh," he grunts, knuckles growing white beneath his armoured gloves as he grips the concrete ledge upon which he rests. It's a meaningless sound but it conveys his mood all the same - this is taking too long. This is dangerous.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
    Barbara has become very selective about when and where she'll suit up these days. She got very used to being Oracle behind the keyboard successfully leading the Birds of Prey on many dangerous missions. When she could walk again, she refused to go out in anything less than proper armor. Thankfully, so many younger vigilantes took up the cape too. Those inspired by Batman, those inspired by herself.

    If Steph were here tonight, she'd probably stay out of the black armour with golden trim and the golden bat across her chest. The cape is secured with a golden bat clasp too. Cowl up and specialised VR goggles down, she is guiding drones in to place around the island.

    Experience has taught them all that rarely do the escapes happen above ground - usually, it's the old tunnels, sewers, and even swimming away. So drones, too, are sneaking in through grated pipes.

    <Drone footage live, channels V-Y, I'll keep my eye on things, if anything exciting pops up I'll let you know> she says, crouched on a ledge near Batman. Dealing with Arkham has always been one of the more difficult scenarios due to the rapid escalation of violence that tends to occur.

Kate Kane has posed:
There are a million cases Batwoman could be working on tonight, but given just how precarious this situation ultimately is, they were rightfully put on hold for the sake of making sure the entire population of Arkham doesn't suddenly steamroll their way into the cities streets like a tidely wave of lunatics. It's not as if they're all stretched thin enough as it is or anything... woe be unto Gotham's protectorate if they instantly had twenty or so pyschopaths out there working like weird little ants.

With her red hair flowing out the back of her cowl and cape fluttering in the occational breeze that comes with the impending rainstorm. Nature is a cruel and fickle mistress, even more so in Gotham. For the eighth time she checks the chamber of the pistol housed in a holster on her right thigh... rubber bullet ready. Both Bruce's grunt and Oracle's intel assurances are met with not but a click of her own comms to let she's heard them.

It's not if, it's when.

Nothing goes to plan, no matter how good it is.

Carrie Kelley has posed:
Sparrow is here tonight. Which might be a surprise to some after a lengthy absence. The ginger is settled on another rooftop that's not too far away from Tim. Her cape flutters every so often when the wind picks up, but for the most part that is the only thing that moves. Her eyes are focused behind the green lensed mask that she wears. There is a bow strapped to her back. She was observing the situation at hand and not adding to the conversation. She was here to support the Bat family and that was what she meant to do in case things went sideways.

Which they so often do.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "I always said Jeremiah Arkham's psychiatric methods were crap, and here they are, replacing the pipes." Anarky says. He's ruining Tim's brood by leaning against that guard tower perch, with his arms crossed and his heavy boots crossed at the ankles, that expressionless white mask he wears looking downright amused. He turns and looks out over the asylum and he says, "You know I used to dread that they'd decide I was crazy and lock me up in here."
    Then he tilts his head and says, "Anyway, I have some information for you about the you-know-what, you-know-when, you-know-where." He holds up a flash drive between two fingers.

Tim Drake has posed:
    While Arkham is legally required to provide all prisoners with access to safe sanitation facilities, they are of course not at all obligated to give any of them privacy.

    On top of the video feed from Babs' drone posse, there's also the (admittedly less high-definition) cameras that have been temporarily erected around the yard. Red Robin arrived on-site early to make sure they had secured access, so now anyone with a HUD tied into the Bat computer has access to them.

    Right now, Tim is flipping through them, mostly getting views of prisoners settling down to sleep.

    The last group is being escorted back from the temporary facilities set up at the far end of the yard, and it's a slow trek, given that every few dozen feet the line stops so two inmates can be freed from their cuffs and put away in their assigned quarters. There's a contigent of guards spread out around them.

    "Not like the rest of the country's doing all that different, you know," Tim replies as he closes out of the camera feeds to instead focus on the yard. He taps the side of his domino mask to zoom in, and starts running through the profiles of the men being taken back to their beds. "Between the highways and the water pipes."

    He lifts his free hand to gesture loosely towards the grounds, and all the men being held there. "Most of these people aren't crazy. I'm sure a lot of them were just desperate for money."

    Though after a moment, Tim tilts his head to the side. "Well, a non-zero amount, at least."

    As he finishes up his sweep, Red Robin toggles his comms on. "<<Prisoner at the head of the line being led back is Tommy Fernandez. In for aggravated assault, grand theft auto, et cetera. His last psychiatric review noted an increased propensity for violence after three years of being on his best behavior; he's done time in solitary twice in the last month. Going to keep a closer eye on him.>>" As he says that, he reaches for the flash drive Anarky's offering him, making a wordless 'gimme' gesture with his fingers.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
<<Paul Dekker,>> the Bat announces, highlighting a man with a sour look and his hair dyed a lurid mishmash of colors using what could only be chemicals sourced from inside the Asylum - it makes for a rushed and appalling job, <<Crazy Quilt. Dangerous despite the name. Gunned down three GCPD patrolmen who took him too lightly.>>

He glances sidelong from his perch at Batgirl for a moment. It's a story she'd be all too familiar with. It's what landed him here in Arkham in the first place all those years ago.

<<Mark POIs,>> he continues, the highlighted forms of Fernandez and Dekker becoming outlined in his HUD before the Bat-Computer sends the same data to the other HUDs in the group, <<The Car's on stand-by. Riot control protocol engaged.>>

Near the column of marching prisoners, the seemingly inert Batmobile (which has been earning more than a few curious and outright hostile glances) roars to life. The headlights bathe the inmates in harsh halogen light. Nothing happens just yet, but the storm is but a button-click away.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
    Violence is something the bats understand all too well. It's the ones that pass for sane that you have to worry about. The ones who, like Lonnie, have theories on how the world should work - but not just have theories, attempt to put in to practice what they preach. Somehow crossing the line from hoping for a better world to imposing their will on others.

    <<Harold Kriljuvic>> Babs pipes up and she highlights the cell he's in. The overlay of analytics indicates there's no one breathing underneath those sheets. Harold was one of those people who finally snapped after losing his wife and job and savings and home. He, unfortunately, saw the truth of the world and instead of trying to make things better, he sought to tear it all down with bombs. Damned anybody caught in the system with him, he was out for revenge.

    <<Reviewing footage...>> she says rewinding the Arkham temporary security footage. A small shuffle, a classic 'you didn't count me' sleight with another prisoner as Kriljuvic slipped off in to the shadows. <<He'll still be on the grounds somewhere, east wing twenty minutes ago>>

    A small look is returned to Batman. <<I remember>> Her lips twist down in to a frown of displeasure at the memory of the funeral for those police officers. The VR goggles are removed and slipped in to a wide yellow pouch. The prisoners knew today was coming; there was simply no way to hide it from them. Too many logistics and moving balls. Some of them have prepared.

    At the end of the day, with all their fancy technology it ultimately still comes down to a confrontation. They always hope that confrontation ends when a Bat is seen.. but not always.

    Babs turns on the roof top and jumps off, cape spreading as she floats down in to the shadowed corner of a wall and swipes a card to open up a door. Inside the aslyum east wing of the asylum she slips.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    When Tim makes a grabby hand Anarky yanks it away, and says, "Hey, hey now! Where's my 'please' and my 'thank you'? Weren't you trained to have better manners than that?" Amazing how an expressionless face mask can look so annoyingly smug.
    He turns, and leans over the railing, watching a prisoner. "Oh hey, that's Joe Coyne, the Penny Plunderer. ...Joe Coyne." He stops, as he thinks about the insane poetry in that name.
    "The scourge of every take-a-penny, leave-a-penny tray in Gotham City. And his name is 'Coyne'. Is something happening?" He's not clued into the others' communication network. Or he's not going to admit to it. Probably the former.

Kate Kane has posed:
Men are moving. Any rivalries that might warrent violence will happen when prisoners (patients) are moving. Specifically because of the nature of how they're divided up, there's no assigned seating to seperate various gangs related to that gimmicky psychopath or this one. They're all just thrown into a housing unit and expected to behave... and to their credit, most do. When they're taken away from the contributory catalyst of violence (a Joker or Two-Face), most of these guys are just street thugs. Not brilliant enough to collectively make their own gang or get a regular job.

It's a pretty vicious cycle.

Batwoman is far more alert when movement begins. Slipping from one shadow to another, <<"Jenna Duffy.">> She says quietly into comms, sliding through the gap between two tents, leveraging her weight over the pegged lines keeping them errect with a shift of her feet. <<"She just handed something off to two guys in front of her. Slender, six inches... pink... probably a toothbrush shive.">> Two fingers tap the side of her cowl, bringing a widened view image of the object clutched against the inside of one of their armms.

<<"Definitely a shive.">>

Carrie Kelley has posed:
Sparrow's keeping track of those that get called out over the comms. Her eyes flicking from information marker to the next as it comes over the HUD. She takes a few moments to grimace at the hacked hair dye job from Paul Dekker, but adds no comments of her own. They'd be considered petty at the moment. She does turn her head finally, giving the white masked figure with Tim a curious look.

She shifts when Barbara relays her information over the comms, rolling her shoulders a bit, <<We're going to have a lot of action popping off soon.>> she comments as she figures out where she's going to be needed.

Tim Drake has posed:
    In contrast, the lower half of Tim's face is exposed and he manages to not look like he understands what emotions are at all. But he does exhale just loud enough for it to count as a sigh as Anarky moves the flash drive out of his reach. "Really," he says, flat.

    As the Batmobile roars to life, things start to happen. Nothing overtly concerning yet, but the prisoners who are caught in the searing bright of its headlights flinch and turn away, cowed. A low murmur of mixed feelings sweeps through the nearby inmates, fear and suspicion and muted anger. There hasn't been much of any attention brought to the looming figures that watch them from above.

    Maybe it's as simple as: no one's looked up, yet. Though really it has a lot to do with the darkness of the sky above and the lights flooding the area below, illuminating the ground without reaching very far above.

    At the same time, Red Robin stands up. It's a slow movement, his attention focused downwards. "Coyne?" The tilt of his head suggests he's either about to ask a follow-up, or maybe about to quip something sarcastic. It's always a toss-up with him. But then Oracle is on the move and Batwoman is calling out a weapon hand-off, and Tim glances down at his left gauntlet long enough to tap in a couple of quick commands. "We're tracking a few prisoners who might be up to no good," he says, and his expression finally twitches, a blink-and-you'll-miss-it frown.

    Anarky gets a push of data that will identify the POIs. Just a few scraps of info, really, but even with their semi-contentious working relationship, Red Robin isn't in the habit of letting his allies go into anything blind. Information strictly kept need-to-know, but with the potential of a full-scale riot on their hands, it's need-to-know tonight.

    "<<Could be coordinated,>>" he adds in, and then rolls his shoulders, loosening up.

    The air is still. Heavy with the oncoming storm and the press of anxious energy, but quiet.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Batman silently laments the fact that Orphan isn't here. Her ability to read body language is unparalleled and they'd have a much better grasp on what is going on. All the same, he isn't exactly a novice in that area himself and he watches the march of the inmates through magnified vision like a hawk.

<<Don't jump the gun,>> his gruff voice chastises through the comms, <<They're on edge. You push it too far; you light the fuse. Those guards and orderlies down there are in the middle of it all.>>

A beat.

<<If this turns, no showboating. Efficiency and precision. We put them down.>>

Barbara Gordon has posed:
    The fluorescent lights in this part of the wing are old and yellowed. Some are flickering. Babs isn't surprised - somehow they always manage to let this old place get worse year after year. The sound of voices walking her way and she ducks behind a wall cabinet. Workmen, in this part of the building?

    <<Unusual, workmen in the east wing. Checking it out>> Babs adds over the comms. A shiv in the yard? a prisoner gone missing.. may be not just a few of them prepared, may be they're prepared to put on a whole show. A show of force from Batman might be the signal they're waiting for. It wouldn't be the first time.

    Babs keeps her distance and rounds a corner. Down some stairs, she brings up the internal maps of this place. Around another corner and through a door leading in to a natural aqueduct that has long since gone dry; where piping has been forced through a long time ago and simply forgotten. Part of a pneumatic tube system. The air is cooler and crisper down here and the sound of water dripping from stalactites echos in the chamber.

    A tap on her bat computer and she shares her visual feed, <<There's a gathering down here>> She zooms in on crates marked as Plumbing Supplies. C4. Lots of C4. They're sending it in bundles through the pneumatic tubes. <<Six of them here, ...and there is Kriljuvic. We have a big problem>> she says subvocalising as she moves behind stalagmites to get closer. <<I don't have any blue prints for where these pneumatic tubes go>>.

    At least the workmen with Kriljuvic seem to be at ease. They are chatting like old friends at a BBQ as they prepare for mass detonation. <<I need to get their frequency, then I can have the bat drones jam it>> A tilt of her head a moment, <<They're armed with SIG 556R>>

    Facial recognition starts to capture good images of their faces. Mercenaries from Russia, definitely not part of the legitimate plumbing crew here for renovations. <<How are they going to coordinate a riot with detonation?>> A habit she learnt from Bruce, always ask a question instead of stating an answer. Let others come to the conclusion themselves.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    Ah... ha. Well, that bit of shared information sheds a little light on things. "Sometimes I forget how extensive your network in Gotham City really is. Have I ever lectured you about Panopticism? Because I've got a good one..." Anarky taps the side of his mask and white lenses drop in front of his eyes.
    "A riot is the language of the unheard. Unless you're white and your team just sportsed really hard. Start a riot to divert the guards and cover your getaway. They must have a vehicle waiting. A truck maybe. Or a boat?"

Kate Kane has posed:
Coordinated riot seems rather unlikely on the surface, given how irrational some of these patients are. There are, however, methods to madness. They've all seen it to some extent or another, but almost universally it's not until the music starts that the true plan comes together. Suffice that there are two schools of thought here: A bunch of individual groups are conspiring individually to take advantage of the situation. Some for rivalry, some for escape (or just chaos)... or one individual is directing a production.

It matters, but not in the thick of things. The ends are the same, the means for preventing it identical. That's why Bruce had them all here. When there's a bunch of spinning plates, you bring in more people to stop them from falling.

<<"Figures.">> Batwoman moves into a better position, back pressed against a hastily constructed baracade where she can better watch Jenna and the two inmates she'd passed weapons off to. <<"Doesn't matter if I stop them, as soon as they see we're actually here, it's going to get very stupid very fast.">> Kate grouches. Not like she can let someone get stabbed, though.

Soon as that shive swings, Batwoman is moving to intercept it.

"I don't like being figured into the plan. That really pisses me off."

Carrie Kelley has posed:
<<Got it, Boss.>> Sparrow nods as Batman gives the rules of engagement for the evening. No showboating. Definitely not her thing. Then Babs is talking about a lot of C4 and she shakes her head at the news, "Another explosive evening." she mutters to herself as she heads for the exits to the east wing in case they exit there. Parkour helped to eat up the distance and she arrived with a little huff of breath as she settled in sight of the exits. She takes the free moment to grab the bow from her back and starts selecting a good ammo should a group come out the doors.

Tim Drake has posed:
    "<<Understood.>>" Red Robin doesn't spare an upwards look to where their shared RTLS tells him that Batman is, but he feels an itch at the back of his neck to do so. Instead he adjusts his grip on his staff and subtly shifts his weight from one foot to the other, primed to make a leap. His free hand hangs now at his side, ready to take hold of the barrel of his grapple gun.

    When Oracle's signal goes out, Tim immediately tabs into her feed. What he sees, even on the small view overlaying part of his HUD, is enough to make the muscles in his jaw tighten slightly.

    He glances away from the grounds. Just for a split-second, towards Sparrow nearby, and then in closer to Anarky. His eyes snap back to the prisoners below. Without looking away again, he tells Anarky, "No, I think I'd remember that one. I've read some Foucault, though."

    Against his leg, his hand flexes minutely. "<<The pneumatic tubes might feed to the treatment ward and the medical facility. Used to transport medication and the like. But these inmates are all from the penitentiary...>>" He's not subvocalizing, so that Anarky is at least getting half of the conversation. "<<Is there someone receiving treatment that might be the real target? Either for extraction or assassination?>>"

    As he asks, Tim is already cycling through reports, fingers against the touch screen on his gauntlet.

    "<<The riot doesn't need to be coordinated if it's just a cover.>>"

    Ratcatcher is recovering from pneumonia. A couple of Penguin's thugs, brought in last night, are recovering from injuries sustained during their arrest. And-- "<<Dominic Castellani was admitted this morning after complaining of stomach pain. Goes by the Undertaker, because he supposedly handles most of the cleanup for the Falcone family. Knows where all the bodies are buried. Could be that someone's worried he's going to cut a deal.>>"

    It's not an iron-clad theory. They're all making suppositions based on limited evidence, here. Ultimately, it doesn't matter until they have something concrete.

    A small amount of unexpected movement happens in the yard below. "I'll cut you for that!" the man who was passed the shiv says--not yelling, not enough to attract guard attention, but enunciated clearly for anyone who might be watching--and then he tries to follow up his threat with action, arm lifting.

    At the same time, down below where Oracle is, the mercs continue to chat lightly with each other, apparently not too concerned with being observed. It's nothing interesting; one of them is complaining about the quality of pierogis in Gotham. "It's all about the water you use in the dough!" he says in Russian. They feed the last bundle into the tube and then two break off to make their way to the boxes of C4, headed towards Barbara.

    Even as he watches this all happen through Babs' feed, Red Robin continues to analyze the profiles he's sorting through. Hard to keep an eye on everything with so much info displayed on his HUD. "If we have to engage," he says, his tone edging towards forced lightheartedness. "You might want to keep close. In case we need to vouch for you."

Bruce Wayne has posed:
<<They were installed as part of the Gotham World's Fair in 1898,>> Batman offers in explanation of the pneumatic tubes and showcasing the encyclopedic knowledge of Gotham he possesses, <<Fell into disuse in '23. The plans were destroyed along with the Hall of Records during the Flood. Arkham uses this portion of them but the bulk are connected to the central Mercey system.>>

Always planning ahead for the next encounter, he makes the mental note to run a drone through the pipes and create a map of his own. A task for another day.

<<The riot's a distraction. Some of these inmates are lifers. Lacking the outside connections to help them escape like Joker or Two-Face. They trade in distractions in exchange for creature comforts, amenities, extra yard time.>>

He nods in response to Red Robin's deduction. Approving in the dark and in silence.

"These men should be in Blackgate, not Arkham," the Bat muses to himself, before activating his comm, << ... Oracle, bring up the court roll and cross-reference the sentencing judge for each of these men.>>

Barbara Gordon has posed:
    <<Kriljuvic is an idealist, an anarchist, he wants to tear down institutions - may be that means the mob, may be that means all of Arkham. If those tubes go to administration...>> she poses the thought as she taps quickly on her custom user interface.

    The bat computers begin to extract and cross reference the cases. <<Judge Hannah Fourier>> she says over the comms as the two Russians come closer. <<This is her third year on the job and she's put seventeen violent offenders in to Arkham instead of Black Gate so far..>> Definitely something to follow up on after they see through this night.

    "Alexei," one of the Guards says picking up a crate, but Alexei doesn't respond as Babs pulls him back in to the shadows. A swift strike to the throat leaves him wheezing for air and grasping at his neck. Then a forceful blow to the stalagmite knocks him out. She catches him and lowers him to the ground to avoid that crunching sound.

    As the second guy starts to get concerned for his colleague "Alexei?" he wanders a little too close and Babs sweeps his legs out from underneath him, a fist coming down hard to his face. Efficient, to the point. She drags that body back to where Alexei rests.

    <<Kriljuvic has the detonator, he may just be looking to take as many lives as possible and escape during the confusion. I'm going to try and get it off of him>> She looks up to the piping above and shoots a grapple up there; with a quick zip she lands on top of it and carefully makes her way along it to get above the Russian operation.

Kate Kane has posed:
I'll cut you for that!

That's the song of Kate's people, thrown venomously from one inmate to another. She might be a decent detective, but she's not the brains of the operation and she knows it. If it's not tactical planning, let the smarter minds figure out the whys. She'll handle the hows. Which, in this particular case, is ruthless aggression like early 2000s WWE.

Before the shiv ever has a chance to actually connect, Batwoman is on the goon swinging it like impending doom before a heart attack. Her right hand, sheathed in an armored gauntlet, smacks him so hard in the mouth that several of his teeth are loosened from the roots. Her other hand clamps down on his wrist, squeezes, and pivots locks his arm against her hip as she turns. Hurling him down onto his shoulders over her thigh where she can plant her equally armored knee into his throat with his hand twisted in a way that doesn't just hurt, it proper fucks it up.

The bone cracking sound is real.

The shouts of agony would be too if he were able to scream through the knee squeezing his wind-pipe. The other knife man, seeing how this is going to go, comes at her instead of his intended target.. but finds no doe in a headlights here.

He finds the barrel of a modified GLock 22 pressing his nose against his lips. "You sure?" They might be rubber bullets, but at this distance, does it matter? He certainly doesn't seem to think so... shiv clatters to the ground as he takes several steps back. "Shame you're smarter than you look." Parting words. Her fist slaps out sideways to catch him in the mouth, knocking his head back and his feet forward... Landing him hard on his back, but he was far too unconscious to appreciate how much that had to hurt.

Just as quickly she's gone, but her eyes are Jenna... the Carpenter... waiting to see what The Mad Hatters weaponsmith will do now that she's been defanged.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    If Lonnie could hear that, he'd feel attacked a little bit! But he can't. Which is probably a good thing. "Institutions like Arkham represent a flawed paradigm of how to treat the mentally ill. You can't just lock people away in a dark, miserable place and expect them to recover. ...But at the same time, there are people here who can't just be allowed to circulate - they're a danger to others and to themselves."

"...Boy." He says, tapping his temple, "I'm going soft, aren't I?" He glances over at Red Robin. "If you want to defuse the riot, defuse the tension. I told you that joke for a reason, remember."

Carrie Kelley has posed:
Sparrow takes a moment to observe the field and makes the decision of where she needs to go. Get to medical and keep them from killing one Dominic Castellani. The lithe ginger hops down from her perch on one of the towers and sprints across the the yard to find the door that she needs to enter. It feels like forever, but she's not impatient. Impatient got you dead.

And she was very good at patience.

She brings the bow up as she enters, making her way quickly down the hallway in an uncanny way. <<Securing Dominic. If I have any issues I'll give a shout.>> she states over the comms. She opens the door to the medical ward where they are holding him and gives a salute, "Don't mind me. Just going to watch this door and the evening should stay peachy keen if everyone stays out of it." she tells the man.

Tim Drake has posed:
    It's now that Red Robin finally gives in to his urge to look upwards, but even as high up as he is, it's still not enough to really see anything except the faint outline of the Dark Knight against the backdrop of the night sky. He tucks the information given into his own growing knowledge of Gotham's eccentricities with a "Huh. Learn something new every day," murmured underneath his breath like he's forgotten Anarky is standing right next to him.

    Begs the question, exactly how much does Tim talk to himself on the regular.

    At the mention of Kriljuvic's anarchistic tendencies, Tim's cheek dimples from how he bites at the inside of it. He does not reply, though he watches with some interest as Oracle takes out one mercenary and then another with quiet efficiency on the small screen overlaying his HUD. In contrast, down below, Batwoman's no less efficient, but deliberately brutal.

    As her fist slams into the first goon's mouth, Red Robin's shoulders bunch up just the tiniest bit. He doesn't make a sound but he lets out a slow exhale, monitoring the situation from above with less and less focus as Kate continues to move. Two guards have arrived to calm the situation down but for a few seconds they do nothing but stand off to the side, looking about as stunned as Jenna herself does by Batwoman's appearance.

    After a moment, though, both guards flick the on switch to their taser batons and start advancing on the Carpenter. Jenna glances at them but her attention is obviously narrowed down to Batwoman, and with a quick movement of her arm she slides another shiv out from underneath her sleeve and darts in towards Kate, trying to drive the improvised weapon up towards her chin from below.

    "That was supposed to be a joke?" Red Robin asks, entirely earnest. After all, who but Tim Drake would take the offer of a lecture seriously? He leans past to make eye (or rather, lens) contact with Sparrow as she moves off, and then he drops down from atop the guard post, to the side of where the two guards stationed within it stand. They don't even notice him as he moves away.

    He switches to a frequency he knows Anarky monitors to add, "<<I'm not going to argue with you about our criminal justice system,>>" he says first as he makes his way around the edge of the yard, keeping Batwoman's location in the corner of his eye. "<<Because I know it's terrible. And the riot's likely just a distraction, if it even happens.>>"

    It's too far for him to get to Oracle's location in time to help her engage; she's going to have to face Kriljuvic herself. But Tim can at least try to help. Back on the Bat-comms, he asks, "<<Any idea where the pneumatic line might terminate?>>"

    From his belt, Red Robin pulls a small box with a switch. "<<I've got an EMP device on hand, I can try to get to your location overland and disrupt any signal Kriljuvic might send out.>>" Which means he'll have to jump down into the crowd. And then he'll be without comms as soon as it's activated. Oof.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
"This whole thing -" Lonnie drops from the guard post and lands in a crouch, that black punk getup he's wearing blends into the dark awfully well, it's a step up from when he was dressed as an inquisitor - it looked cool in the mind of a 13 year-old with more brains than sense, okay?

"Is a sign of a greater endemic injustice. Jeremiah Arkham is NOT interested in rehabilitating these people, he's *curating* them." He's following Tim, waiting for things to go hot. Why is he protecting someone who's beaten him up so many times?

Well, to know you'd have to ask.

"Like his own personal garden of the maladies of the human mind. When's the last time *he* had a psych eval, I wonder?" When somebody finally does rush them, some random poor Asylum patient, he does something a lot like what Red Hood might do - he intercepts the guy's charge with a V-Trigger style knee to the face.

The guy goes down like a sack of potatoes.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
Batman is already moving. He knows every inch of Gotham down to the geological make-up. He can pinpoint his position down to within a few feet while blindfolded. He has spent much of his adult life studying the city and learning everything he could about it. It holds few secrets from him, and those it presents are soon unraveled.

It is not at all difficult for him to find his way off the roof, through a loose air duct and down a dark and cobweb-festooned duct. Soon he is nearing the explosives, sharing his HUD with Barbara to give her all the extra information she may need. Now, a little mood music.

Oracle is working stealth, and the Bat provides a distraction she may need. There's a rush of smoke pluming upwards as he drops from the duct, rising to his full height as a dark silhouette with only the eyes properly visible and glowing menacingly.

The first shots will be directed at the Bat-symbol on his chest. Good. That's what it's for. He throws up his cape, turning away and sending the smoke into a whirling dervish around him. One bullet hits the symbol, and he feels the heavy impact against his breastbone. It catches the bullet though, and he breathes a silent sigh of relief that the mercenary's aim was on point - the rest of the suit is not graded for 5.56 rounds.

In the chaos, the Batman emerges from the smoke. His elbow driving into one of the Russians' jaw before trailing across it with the bladed barbs that jut from his gauntlet. It leaves the skin ripped and bloodied, a definite scar not to mention all the other problems with severed muscles and nerves.

Barbara Gordon has posed:
    From above, Babs can see all. The confines of a single room is not how she likes to do things these days. She's the all seeing oracle after all. That no obvious escape plan seems to have made itself obvious by boat or underwater jet skies or novelty helicopter makes her think Kriljuvic has an agenda in mind rather than escape. Those are the worst kinds of criminals. They don't lack for passion and resolve.

    The moment she engages, Kriljuvic will try and press that detonator button. She knows this. She also knows if she shoots her grapple about his wrist, the nerves will fire and he'll push it autonomously too. For this, she must disconnect the nerves. The best way to do that? just above the elbow.

    The grapple gun is fired and a smoke bomb is dropped. For the Russians it all happens in an instant. Batman arrives and so does the smoke. Suddenly Kriljuvic is screaming for his life as he's pulled up in to the sky. The smoke spreads everywhere taking away their view of the assailants.

    Barbara takes off at a run along the pipes as the Russians blind firing toward the bat.. both bats, up in the air and through the smoke at Batman. The extra information from Batman's point of view gives her all the information she needs to pull this off - she needs to not get shot today and she doesn't want Kriljuvic to die by her actions either. The grapple line is secured tightly about his upper arm cutting off blood and nerves alike. Leave it there too long there'll be lasting damage. She doesn't need it there long.

    As her target reaches full height, she reaches down and takes the detonator from his weak limp hand, then hits the release on the bat line and he drops twelve feet to the ground with a thud. Groaning, he attempts to get up, but fails slumping back down again.

    <<I have the detonator>> The last thing she wants is an EMP going off <<Don't you dare use that EMP or I'll block you from all the apps. *All* of them>>. Not just the bat ones.

    She's doing her best to push out the nightmare that haunts her should that EMP take out the chip that lets her walk and move and fight like she does.

    Still, she can't help but admire from her higher vantage point the way Bats lays in to the mercs. It reminds her of the early days when she wore her purple and yellow uniform and infuriated her way in to Bruce's heart. A small smile plays over her lips.

Kate Kane has posed:
Sweet sweet jenna, bless your heart.

The Mad Hatters wonderland gang did not get their names by being the sharpest tools in the shed, nobody is suggesting it, but it takes a very special kind of lunacy to rush straight at Batwoman. Arguably one of the least restrained of the clan short of Damian (and it's a neck and neck race), she isn't going to find anybody pulling punches here. Double bonus, nobody has to feel guilty for hitting a woman.... Kate certainly isn't going to.

The shiv comes up towards her throat, just beneath her chin. She lets it get closer, she lets Jenna get her arm inside her guard, but only so that she's well within reach for the sudden onslaught of delicious violence. The kind of kinetic impact that causes audiences to flench in movie theaters. The immediate crack of armored knuckles slapped out with precise force connecting with the bridge of Jenna's nose with such intent that blood sprays across the ground instantly.

Kate steps to the side as the bewildered woman continues to stagger in her direction, now uselessly as she tries to keep vital vitae inside her face... and grabs hold of the back of her orange Arkham jumpsuit at the collar. The yank of force reverses the inertia of forward movement and peels Jenna off her feet with Batwoman pulling back and slamming the hammer-like underside of her fist straight down between the woman's breasts to accelerate her descent to the ground into something more like a crack-cow.

If there were any fight left in her, and there's not, the sudden punch to her jaw dislodges it... it and her mandibular bone.

Better safe than sorry.

Tim Drake has posed:
    As he moves, Red Robin is splitting his attention in maybe one too many ways. Monitoring Oracle's progress through her shared camera feed, tracking his approach to the coordinates above ground that correspond to her underground location, and managing to navigate around the guards patrolling at the fringes, until he has to take the plunge into the crowd.

    Well, no time like the present!

    "Our system is about retribution, not rehabilitation," Tim acknowledges as he puts his hand on the railing of the guard platform and with a soft exhale of breath hops over. The flutter of his cape is the only noise he makes until he lands with a soft grunt, and then with a too-casual nod to a guard who has turned to look at him with wide eyes, Red Robin is on the move once again. "I mean, compare our crime rates to Norway," and then he waves a hand, "Not to mention their recidivism rates!"

    He's still walking and talking when they're rushed, and Red Robin has barely had a chance to wheel around on one foot towards the attacker before Anarky's knee realigns their teeth. "...Look, when I said I wasn't going to argue with you, it was because I was agreeing with you," is what Tim finally decides on saying.

    The location marker tagged RR overlays Oracle's just as Barbara calls down the comms that she has the detonator, and Tim's thumb hovers over the switch on the EMP as he shifts his eyes towards the corner of the HUD and her display. She's already gone and threatened him before he's confirms what she's telling him, seeing glimpses of Batman and Kriljuvic both amongst the smoke taking up most of the camera feed.

    "<<Copy, Oracle.>>" He flicks the cover back over the switch and tucks the device away.

    Which leaves them with comms still, yes, but they are still right in the middle of a bunch of inmates. Most of which are safely(?) tucked away in their makeshift cells, but... "Batwoman's this way," he tells Anarky, head turned, and behind him a figure emerges from the shadows, having been left behind by the two guards who rushed very much unnecessarily to Kate's rescue.

    He rears his fist back, and Tim sighs, head ducking down as he swings his staff around behind him. The tip of his staff makes contact with a quick pop of electricity and then the prisoner is down, twitching and gurgling. "Rude," Red Robin mutters as he flips the guy over and cuffs him with a ziptie from his belt.

    It's not long before he's covered the rest of the distance, pausing long enough to alert a guard towards the two downed prisoners a ways away, and then Tim comes upon the scene of Batwoman's devastation. The two guards who abandoned their post to come "help" her haven't done much more than stand there. "Can you believe she threatened to block me? Seriously!" he asks Kate as he steps over one body.

Bruce Wayne has posed:
<<Check for a dead man's switch,>> Batman advises, his voice never sounding stressed or even like he is exerting himself - it is all a matter of cause and effect, <<Report on the situation in the yard.>>

He continues to move through the mercenaries, far swifter and more agile than a man of his size has any right to be. There's a shrill, gurgling scream as a tibia is snapped back against itself with a heavy kick. The muffled thump of armored fists meeting the kidneys of another mercenary and sending him collapsing in upon himself. The dull snap-crack of gunfire fills the corridor, the accuracy failing now as the fight becomes far more close quarters than it needs to be.

When the smoke finally clears enough, the Dark Knight stands amidst the crumpled bodies of several mercenaries. A rivulet of red runs down the inside of his arm from a dark, ruddy tear in his bicep. The arm hangs limply at his side, but he continues to move and speak clearly.

<<Area clear. Sending in the drone.>>

A small, black ball of reflective glass is fetched from his utility belt. He taps it once against the forehead plate of his cowl, causing it to glow a faint blue before dropping it into the pneumatic pipe and letting it sail away to parts unknown.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "And if you know me at all you know I'm going to argue anyway. Spirited debate where people still listen to one another is necessary for a functioning free society. "You're sharing my opinion, but you're not *agreeing* with me because the second I don't see eye-to-eye with Batman, we'll be at odds again. You are, yourself, bound up in an authoritarian system - albeit one with a cause I sympathize with, to an extent."
    Anarky wheels on another would-be thug and introduces his face to a door. KLUDD.
    "And I risk being caught up in it, because I like you. Batman is my inspiration, but we can't be *beholden* to our inspirations." He lets out an annoyed noise. "And here I am, at risk of being caught up in the orbit of his crusade because you're my friend, Red Robin." He snaps out his cane, and the taser on it crackles to life, before he says, "Do what you need to do. I'll cover you."

Barbara Gordon has posed:
    Babs connects a line and swings down to the sight of destruction that is Batman's latest area cleared. She checks her bat computer to watch the transmission from the drone as it explodes exactly where all that C4 was being sent. A small glance is given to Batman, lingering just a moment longer. It's the 'are you okay?' look. No words necessary, they've been at this game a long while now.

    What makes Oracle's eyes raise up high though is where the drone takes them. In to what appears to be a forgotten room, absolutely filled with money. Pails upon pails of crisp hundred dollar bills in neat stacks on palettes for easy movement. Also in the room, C4 which will never get a signal. And one Bat drone.

    "The commissioner is not going to believe this..." which gang owns all this money? is it an inside job from someone in Arkham? may be it's the mob? .. of all the places to stash so much cash, somehow an anarchist who wants to tear down the system found out about it and did his darnedest to destroy it.

    A few taps on her interface and the directions to the mother load are sent to everyone else's device. <<Who's closest? secure the C4>> She turns to look at Batman and then a small smirk crosses her features. "Never a dull night."

Kate Kane has posed:
Jenna isn't doing a whole lot anymore besides blowing blood bubbles when she tries to breath through her nose while unconscious. Being the good samaritan that she is, Kate uses the tip of her boot to roll the woman over on her side so she doesn't sufficate on her own vitae. It's just the right thing to do... Which is about when Tim and Lonnie appear from the shadows after the shocking encounter only moments prior.

Batwoman stands there with her pistol in one hand and her cowled head bowed. The two guards may not have helped much previously, but they're busy at work getting inmates tied up. While the specticle of a bloody fisted Batwoman is doing a whole lot to demoralizes the remaining inmates from engaging in anything other than obedience. <<"Three down.">> Kate says over comms to Bruce's request for a sitrep. <<"Situation under control.">> Given the general lack of enthusiasm from the remaining prisoners to engage with anything other than harsh stares and colorful language.

Which isn't crime.

She turns her attention sidelong towards Tim, quirking a wry smirk. "The cheek of her... simply churlish." Her cowl tilts, mostly for dramatic effect, to regard Lonnie. Then realigns with an implied raised brow.

The feed of money being fed to them draws a rather impressed, but not surprised, whistle. "That's a lot of funny money." She thinks she's clever. <<"I'll keep an eye on the yard.">>

Tim Drake has posed:
    As they walk, Red Robin makes a couple of non-committal noises at Anarky without opening his mouth. The shadow of the Bat reaches across the largest valley between their own personal philosophies, and in general Tim is not in the habit of engaging anyone when they mention Batman. It helps to maintain the mystery, even if it's true that Anarky has gone up against the Dark Knight himself before.

    Still, it's a point of contention.

    "<<Minor activity in the yard, guards are containing it. We have a handful of downed prisoners, but they're already back in custody.>>" Red Robin is flipping through the Asylum's camera feeds now to track the guards that are collecting the unconscious bodies he and Anarky have left along their way. Off-comms, he asks, "At what point do I start to get offended by your continued insistence that I don't have any individual opinions of my own?"

    With a flick of his hand, Red Robin tosses a shuriken that wedges itself into the flexor tendons of a patient that has apparently nicked a stun baton off of a guard somewhere. The baton drops to the ground, and Tim takes a few steps forward to drive his knee into the stomach of his attacker, who crumples. Another zip-tie comes out.

    "The nerve, the gall, the audacity *and* the gumption," he echoes after Batwoman as he straightens back up, pulling his shuriken free as he does so.

    Red Robin's head only tilts to the side a little bit, but he smiles faintly at Kate's whistle. "<<The plot thickens.>>" To Batwoman he gives a quick, perhaps cheeky, salute, before he's on the move again. This time he sticks closer to the shadows, rather than the 'get from point a to point b as fast as possible' method he'd been using beforehand.

    Sure, the C4 is still technically in play, but there's less chance of detonation now.

    He gives a shake of his head as he moves. "You know we're not all a hive mind, right? Viewpoints need to be different for there to be any worthwhile collaboration. That's part of the reason why I work with you. Sure, you have some radical ideas," and here Tim snorts, "But your thinking is a lot more flexible than mine. We all bring something unique to the table."

    As they follow Oracle's directions, Tim is already linked back into his computer at the Roost, digging into potential sources for the explosives. Often easier to track than money. But he pauses long enough to say, "If you try to steal any of this I *will* know," and he waggles a mostly-comedic finger of warning in Anarky's direction.

    "<<On our way to handle the C4.>>"

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "Please." Anarky puts his cane against his shoulder. "As if I don't already have plenty of my own C4." He rolls his eyes, visibly, as he follows after Tim. "You don't need to be a hive mind. You're conditioned to follow an authority. I understand why, you have to be, in order to make an effective unit."
    "Me, I've just never been much of a follower, I suppose." He leans down to examine something on the ground. "They'll want to set it off where it'll do the most damage. Check where the pneumatic system runs closest to the foundations of the building."

Tim Drake has posed:
    Red Robin huffs out a breath. "So sorry," he says without sounding any kind of apologetic. Nothing else of what Anarky says about Batman gets a response beyond a shake of Tim's head, and then he spins on his heel to walk backwards for a handful of steps.

    "So." He holds out both his hands, towards Anarky behind him. "What do you call what you're doing right now?"

    His expression cracks, briefly a flash of teeth and a snarky grin, before he turns back around. "Don't worry, we have a location," he adds with a quick tap of fingers to his temple, near the edge of his domino mask.

    Which Red Robin soon proves true, as he comes to a stop in front of a rather unassuming door off a side-hallway within the asylum's medical facility. It cracks open with a rush of old, stale air that has Tim's nose wrinkling, and then he steps inside. There's the C4, making a little pile beneath the end of the pneumatic tube system, and... "<<Wow. That really is a whole lot of money. We could fully Scrooge McDuck into this amount of cash.>>"

    Outside in the yard, things have quieted down. Guards have hauled away the unconscious, sometimes bleeding bodies of the prisoners who tried to cause a stir, and then from the penitentiary, work crews begin to exit.

    The maintenance work is done. Slowly, guards begin to ferry inmates back to their cells. The danger passes.

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "I'm not following, I'm *cooperating*. There's a subtle philosophical distinction there between a subordinate relationship and an equal one." Anarky says, as he follows behind. His eyes widen a little bit and he says, "If I didn't know money is an artificial construct I'd be pretty gobsmacked right now." He studies the room and says "If they'd set it off here it would've destabilized the whole foundation. They would've had to raze the entire asylum." He makes a mental note, in case he ever has to destroy Arkham.
    "And like I said. Out of all my friends... there's basically just you."

Tim Drake has posed:
    As much as anyone, even a rich kid like Tim Drake, might want to stand around and marvel at a literal mount of cash right before them... uh, priorities. Right. Red Robin crouches down at the pile of C4 and takes a long few moments to inspect them before he picks one up.

    "Yeah, sure, but you have to admit the timing was funny." He studies the detonator mechanism and the attached signal receiver. After one deep breath, Tim hooks his finger around a wire, pulls, and...

    Nothing happens.

    It takes him less than 15 seconds to disarm the rest of the C4, and then Tim stands. "Please stop thinking about blowing up the asylum," he says as he walks over, plastic explosives tucked into a bundle under his arm like it's nothing. Of course, they're pretty well inert without a detonator or other satisfactorily concussive force, so it kind of is. And then with a sigh he pats Lonnie on the arm, lightly.

    "C'mon. Sounds like they're starting to move the prisoners back in. We'll keep an eye on the cash," he points to the drone, "Until the GCPD can come collect."

Lonnie Machin has posed:
    "I can think about it as much as I want to." Lonnie says. He makes an exploding motion around his head. "Booosh! Just thought about it. Oop, thought about blowing it up again, Red Robin, KABOOM! Oh, now it's collapsing into a big pile of rubble, kshchckskskshhckh!"
    He follows Tim out, heckling him about continuing to think about blowing this place sky high.