newoutsiders (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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thenewoutsiders2014-10-11 05:49 pm
newoutsiders) wrote in thenewoutsiders2014-10-11 05:49 pm
Entry tags:
Enter: Red Hood
Perfect. Absolutely perfect. If there's one thing you can always count on, it's Batman ruining everything. Even when he's who-knows-where, the vacuum he doesn't even realize he's leaving rushes to fill up with garbage.
Two weeks ago, that kid of his kicked Two-Face out of Gotham Harbor. Great. Very nice for the harbor. A parade for Robin. But did he really think that would make things better for the city? Did he think Two-Face was just going to shrug his asymmetric shoulders and go, "Oh well, I guess I'll just take a smaller piece of the pie"?
No. He's going to expand elsewhere. Obviously. And that "elsewhere" is exactly where you don't want him.
After the last big gang war which left Black Mask in charge of everything, you showed up and redistributed. You've spent a long time pushing those dividers. Making crime controlled. Manageable. Keeping it away from the poor, hapless folks who don't go looking for it. And you've been more successful at it than Batman ever was, even with his whole "Matches Malone" shtick.
But now, Two-Face is questioning those borders he was never even meant to see. He's started expanding to racketeering small businesses. Arming otherwise harmless street gangs. And, if the rumors are true, Two-Face's outfit has begun breaking your number one rule: pushing drugs in schools.
It's time to send him a message. That's why you've called this meeting with your lieutenants. They're all waiting for your next move.
One of your men slinks into your conference room, and whispers a message to you. There's been an explosion down at the docks. One of your men, Rusty, has been undercover as a dockworker there. Batgirl was on scene- he didn't say which one. So many bats to keep track of these days. Rusty fired at her, but she got away. He did say that a tanker full of some weird, orange chemical arrived there and was driven away off the books, but then the explosion happened, and the guy who waved it out is laid up in the hospital.
Two weeks ago, that kid of his kicked Two-Face out of Gotham Harbor. Great. Very nice for the harbor. A parade for Robin. But did he really think that would make things better for the city? Did he think Two-Face was just going to shrug his asymmetric shoulders and go, "Oh well, I guess I'll just take a smaller piece of the pie"?
No. He's going to expand elsewhere. Obviously. And that "elsewhere" is exactly where you don't want him.
After the last big gang war which left Black Mask in charge of everything, you showed up and redistributed. You've spent a long time pushing those dividers. Making crime controlled. Manageable. Keeping it away from the poor, hapless folks who don't go looking for it. And you've been more successful at it than Batman ever was, even with his whole "Matches Malone" shtick.
But now, Two-Face is questioning those borders he was never even meant to see. He's started expanding to racketeering small businesses. Arming otherwise harmless street gangs. And, if the rumors are true, Two-Face's outfit has begun breaking your number one rule: pushing drugs in schools.
It's time to send him a message. That's why you've called this meeting with your lieutenants. They're all waiting for your next move.
One of your men slinks into your conference room, and whispers a message to you. There's been an explosion down at the docks. One of your men, Rusty, has been undercover as a dockworker there. Batgirl was on scene- he didn't say which one. So many bats to keep track of these days. Rusty fired at her, but she got away. He did say that a tanker full of some weird, orange chemical arrived there and was driven away off the books, but then the explosion happened, and the guy who waved it out is laid up in the hospital.
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But he won't pretend he's not curious.
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"Your interest in my love life is noted, but this is strictly business here."
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Your orders arrive, and they look great as always. Darin takes a moment to savor his meal, and eventually turns back to conversation.
"So, that was some nasty business with Van last night. Are you all right?"
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And they've officially reached the point where they've just devolved into snarking about each other's ages. He's done eating, and he does have other things to do today. He reaches for his wallet, pulling out a few large bills more than enough to cover the bill, plus a fairly ludicrous tip, and then stands. "I gotta take care of some 'operational difficulties' before tonight. If, ah, Mr. Falstaff has made the appropriate arrangements before then, drop me a line."
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He leaves, heading back to his place for further preparations. After verifying that he does, indeed, still own a suit in reasonable condition, he gears back up for the day ahead. Last night had caught him sleep-deprived and off-guard; it's time to be pre-emptive here.
He checks over his self-reminders, making sure he's not forgetting anything pressing. He still needs to pay a little 'visit' to the dirty cop who's been harassing Bel's girls, but he knows from the rough schedule he'd blocked out that asshole won't be back in the district for a few days - he can let that slide in favor of more pressing matters.
He'll start with the Two-Face situation. Whatever Pallbearer and Riddler are planning with him and that damned bull statue, Two-Face is the more important threat at the moment, especially since Jason had avoided that trap. He does take a moment to check on that tracker he'd stuck on Pallbearer's transport, though, noting the location for later.
He'd been planning to start with the drugs last night. Track down the source and get them out of the schools. But Van was at that meeting, and he knows that's the first place they'll be expecting him. Much as he hates not starting on that immediately, he needs to do this right. Impulsive as he can be, he's not an idiot.
Van's the big one gunning for him here. So he's got to start with Van. Which means finding a way to deal with those powers of his. Jason'd been lucky with that plan to smoke him out, but Van will have learned better than to attack him somewhere where he can pull that trick again. And while, ideally, Jason can lure him into something a bit more on his territory, he's not getting caught unprepared for a fight like that again.
So, first order of business: flame retardant. He's thinking capsules full of foam, something he can douse him with that he can't just shake off. He can order those in from his usual suppliers, shouldn't take too long. The real trick is getting past that invulnerable half of his once that's been taken care of. He can breathe smoke just fine, clearly, but another gas might have more potential. He'll have to get a variety.
He takes a while, sketching out designs and specs, before he's satisfied enough with everything to send the order in.
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You compile your designs, and send them through to your arms guy, Trent. He used to work directly under Donny. With him gone, He's a possible replacement candidate, as long as you want to promote from within the organization, and don't mind his attitude.
Trent's a British expat, kind of a scumbag soccer hooligan turned weapons expert. Bilked Star City arms kingpin Milo Armitage out of a lot of ordinance, until he got caught. Now he works for you. He's reasonably good at what he does, but you're not about to take him out to lunch.
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Damn, he's gonna miss Donny. He might've been able to justify bringing him back after some time cooling his heels if Van'd been anyone but family, but as is, he can't just ice Van and then fold his uncle in like nothing else'd happened. A couple minor burns and a new thorn in his side aren't really much compared to that hole in his organization.
Won't do to dwell on that now, though. He's gotta try to track Van down. He doubts he'd have holed up with his mother - Donny'd been on the money there - which means he's probably boarded up in some Two-Face gang hideout. There's a bar over in East Park Side, firmly in Two-Face's territory, where he knows a lot of Dent's guys go to drink. He'll head over there and see if he can hear anything.
No big deal. He takes some time to disguise himself - nothing too fancy, just brown contacts, dyeing in some colored streaks, covering up a few real scars and adding a few fake ones, plus a pair of sunglasses, a couple fake piercings. He takes his helmet and a few supplies in a bag and heads over, stashing them away in a nearby alley before slumping into the bar. He orders a cheap drink and finds a table in the corner to sit and watch.
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"Man, can you imagine the look on Moxon's face when freakin' Batman showed up?" one says.
His friend laughs derisively. "You really think that was Batman? Get real. I heard he was, like, wearing a motorcycle helmet or something. Besides, you know how much of a hard-on the Daily Planet has for Superman. If Batman was back, they'd be mouthing off about how Big Blue was back, right?"
"I dunno," the third guy said. "Maybe he's the only one who made it back."
The bar goes quiet, as all consider the chilling implications of such an occurrence.
Soon enough, conversation resumes. After your third drink, one of the guys says something interesting:
"I heard from Spike that Grundy's out again. Exploded into tiny little chunks, out in Slaughter Swamp. He had a lot of pull out in the docks. I'm thinking, maybe..."
"What? You think he's gonna order us back in? After Robin completely embarrassed him? Not a chance."
"Hey, with Two-Face, the chances are always 50/50. And you know how he feels about Robin. He's looking to pick a fight. Good head on the coin's just been coming up a lot when the question of when to move back in comes up. That's the thing with that coin, you know? The good head doesn't mean good stuff happens. It just means, bad stuff happens later."
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"Y'know... I couldn't help overhearing... look, maybe 's none of my business here, but I been kinda light on cash here. Not a lot of places hiring. But sounds like maybe... there might be room f'r another body in Two-Face's gig?"
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"Get lost, loser," he says.
"Yeah, don't call us, we'll call you," another chimes in. "Can you believe this guy? Asking us for a fuckin' handout?"
"Hey, it's a tough economy out there," the third guy says.
First guy: "I'll drink to that."
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It's getting late now. You should get ready for your date with Darin and Lydia.
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He heads back to his apartment, pulls out his suit. Black fabric, red lining, not too shabby in general. He takes a few to undo his disguise from earlier, ditching the fake piercings and dyeing the streaks back to the natural black before applying his mask.
He knows the weapons policy, and more importantly, knows the game well enough to know not to push it. He doesn't pack any weapons, just his phone, a lighter and a pack of smokes - he'll be there a while.
It feels damn weird, to go completely weaponless. He's usually always got a holster or something. Christ, he keeps a knife in the shower and under his pillow just in case. Now? He'd even taken out the flashbomb fake tooth to make sure. He's got nothing.
And the new getup just adds to the surreality. Mixing the suit with the hood and mask, especially given - the history. He'd chosen the name pretty intentionally, his own little reclamation. But he'd redesigned it just as intentionally, too.
Still, it's his own. And it's just for a night. He doesn't like the whole monkey suit deal, but he'd put up with enough bullshit events as Bruce Wayne's adoptive son to learn to live with it.
The ringing of his phone interrupts his reverie.