Greek Ideal of Justice

May 02, 2015:

DA, Janet Van Dorn is targetted by Furies and a Minotaur…. in Gotham, anything can happen



NPCs: None.


Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

It had been discussed in certain circles that if a major event involving the Metropolis Power Grid were to take place, the Gotham Grid would be immediately shut off to prevent Metro from drawing power from Gotham and New York. Well, an event did happen in Gotham this morning just shy of 10 AM. And what an event. Apparently it was an event that merited a major military response since two SHIELD helicarriers and a number of National Guard units from New York and Delaware have been moving through Gotham for the last two hours.

Problematically, the Gotham Grid has been shut off and while that has, apparently, accomplished its goal, no one is sure if it's safe to turn it back on again with that rift hovering over Hell's Gate. And now that night has fallen, the city being without power is turning into a major problem. There are some troops in the city to help keep order, but most are in Metro, containing what's left of some kind of major HYDRA force. The news reports have been unclear. There's even been an offer of SHIELD help. Mostly to assist in coordinating the efforts of the various Police, SRD and Military organizations in keeping Gotham from exploding now that the police are at an even worse disadvantage. Suffice it to say, it's been a busy day and is looking to be a busy night. Some sections of town - like the narrows - aren't even remotely safe right now and even here in Old Gotham, the streets are dark and dangerous.

Atop the rooftops a certain Neo-Druid is watching as forms move in the shadows not far from the District Attourney's office. "Oracle, I've got something here." Leave it to the Oracle to still have radio and computer service in a city without power.

She's not law enforcement. She's… well, all right, technically that

She's not law enforcement. She's… well, all right, technically that's a lie. Technically, the District Attorney's in league with the police commissioner, determining what does and doesn't get prosecuted. But she doesn't have the power to call out the troops. She does, however, get contacted when the FBI and SHIELD get called out, which means she's been in meetings and in communication with people all day and all night. It's harder than usual given that there's no damn power.

Since Janet's one of the more trustworthy and connected of the politicians and diplomats in Gotham, she's been one of the nexuses (nexi?) of communication. She's only upright now due to a combination of caffeine, Chinese food (cold leftovers, no need to use the small amount of power available on luxuries like hot food, but hot coffee is a necessity), and nerves.

She has half a quiet moment just now, which she's using to sit down in one of the two wingback chairs facing the windows of the city. Janet broods over a cup of coffee, rubbing the bridge of her nose with one hand. Just for the moment, the people clogging her office have gone to clog someone else's office. She has a moment of quiet reflection, which is… not exactly something to be sought out in Gotham. There's nothing good to reflect.

The city is, of course, dark. Gotham has a way of creating fifty shades of 'dark'- different colors of black. Do those even exist? They do in Gotham, in any case.

So, of course, it's rather unusual when something purple appears at one of the windows that Dorn is facing. Mostly because his shade of purple has nothing to do with the lugubriously cheerful shade of the Joker, for starters, and therefore is completely out of place in the city where the Bat flaps in the night.

Vorpal materializes out of thin air- although, really, it's just a simple dismissal of his invisibility illusion. It would be an impressive appearance, if he didn't look like… well, hell. His costume was torn in places, and there were a few cuts and bruises here and there (bandaged) that indicate that, whatever went over at Metropolis, it had been Serious Business.

"I hope I'm not interrupting?" the cheshire's cat voice comes from the other side of the window, muffled, as he gives it a light 'rap-tap-tap' with his knuckles.

He's standing on something purple and glowing. Which explains why he hasn't just fallen screaming to his death-

But a cat would land on his feet, right?

Well, Lunair's technically been taken care of, but she's still confused and dazed. There's a fog in her head, and a ton of missing memories. Skaar fretted over her, but Lunair needs some space. Besides, she wanted to bring back lunch. And she feels incredibly guilty, so maybe helping (and perhaps combat) will make her feel better. There's blank holes in her memory again, what memories she's pretty sure aren't fabricated to begin with, at any rate. Heck, her first identity is legally dead and burned as a biohazard.

Deep breath. "Well. Shit. I need a new phone." Memories, however foggy, of the fact her old one was SHOT. And her communicators. Aaugh, she buries her face in her palms. Lunair is lost, drifting and managing to keep out of the way. Though, her path will likely take her towards the others because that's just how fate works. Fate and that weird feeling when you're trying to avoid ONE co-worker who keeps popping up, at any rate. "And Pinchbro chow and …" How long was she-? What day is it even? Nnhg.

Let's not ask how Oracle has power and communications. She had certainly had a bit of work done in the recent past, perhaps on receiving those documents from Stark Industries.

"Acknowledge that, Fox. No camera feeds till the grid is online, I'm going to be relying on your eyes here." The redhead may have some backups available but she's not using them as the power demands may be too great.

Melinda May heard that Gotham's power grid was taken down, and after her team's part in getting the correct Metropolis back is completed, she evacs her team and then hitches a ride with whichever transport is headed Gotham-ward. Easy enough to do, she just pushes the SHIELD pilot aside with a look and flies the transport over herself. She gives him his plane back the moment they're there, or course, and then 'borrows' a convenient motorcycle to get to the Clocktower. Thankfully, she was able to deflect any questions from Hill by telling her to talk to Fury.

She's about four blocks from the tower and approaching as fast as the chaos of a powerless Gotham allows and she's THIS close to abandoning the motorcycle and taking to the rooftops.

The Clocktower is not, as it turns out horribly far from where Lunair has rather curiously chosen to get takeout, Vorpal has decided to accost the ADA and Kane is watching shadow's move. "Got some shadows creeping up on… oh no. Hey, the DA that the cops like. Janet Van Dorn right? The Cat in the Hat is talking to her but someone's casing the building and I think I know who it is. Remember that Italian mobster we busted after he'd done some illegal artifact trading from Crete?" Do you see where this is going? It's not going anywhere good. Kane slips off the rooftop and heads toward the street to head off what he thinks is coming. And already the deep darkness of unlit Gotham is growing even deeper and the sounds of gunfire and sirens seem… shrill and sharp, somehow. "Call her. Or Vorpal. She needs to move. And if there's help in the area, I could use it."

Most normal people would be a little shocked if a purple-clad Vorpal materialized — literally — outside their window. Normal people don't live in Gotham, though, and if they do, they don't generally make it to high public office. Just look at some of the other people who've made District Attorney.

So Janet doesn't scream or drop her coffee or turn her chair over. She does start a little, but she finishes the sip of coffee she was going to take (she WANTS it) and sets the cup down (it's a Wonder Woman mug, because Janet does have some heroes) to step over to her window. It has a pretty convenient handle for opening, which it does widely enough for a Vorpal to slip in.

"The one quiet moment I've had all day? Not exactly. The coffee's still hot. What on Earth are you doing here? Not that the city isn't in chaos just now."

The cheshire slips into the room once the DA opens the window for him, "I know. I was just checking on you- you know, it being a dark and shadowy jungle out there and all sorts of sickos having it out for you. I figured I had to drop by and make sure everything was fine in here. Not that I don't doubt the ability of your men and women to handle bad situations… it's just that this isn't a bad situation, it's more like a horrible situation." He grins. He is, after all, covered in cuts, and there's blood on his fur. "Gar's down the Southside tying up the last of a gang calling themselves the Dragons who thought it was a great night to break into people's apartments. I'd ask what the situation is in this part o' town… but it's probably the same as everywhere else…"

The cat's grin widens when he notices the Wonder Woman mug. "Niiiice," he says, doing a thumbs-up as he leans against the window. "So… how are you doing, and do you need any re-routing to take care of anything in the area? I've got people on my ear I can tap into." He taptaptaps the comm hanging from his ear to illustrate the point.

A nice, six-armed lady once told Lunair she was touched by the Wild Ways. And then threatened to throw her out a window. She's not sure what it means, but Lunair goes with it. Despite her fugue, she considers it. "Man. This was a dumb idea." She puts her face in her hands. "Why am I in Gotham? Even the damn pigeons have weapons and mafias." SIGH. "Hatethisplace." Grumpgrumpgrumpheadache. "And people always walk on the rooftops. I don't even KNOW," Frumpfrump. She really doesn't know. And there's rumors of a dude in a bat suit. To quote Tumblr, Lunair can't even right now.

And … the power seems to be out? Lunair lifts her head, looking lost. "So much for getting a new phone…" And worse yet, she totally stashed her wallet in space. Everything SUCKS. She's gonna blog about this later. But she walks on, lost and curious. Her head throbs a bit, one eye closing. Thinking too much and fighting thoughts that circle like a frustrated Ouroboros. Mmph. Sirens, huh? Let's see what's going on. Towards the Agent May, towards the clock tower, her feet take her /somewhere/. Though, now she's wary. "Right. Then I'll run into a dog with a knife taped to its head." THIS. CITY.

Oracle has pared back her systems, to conserve power. Entering a series of keystrokes on her keyboard, a map of Gotham with a series of avatars appears. "I see Vorpal, Fox" the redheads tone is dry, not that it translates. Lunair pings too, only because Oracles been watching her since that building the team took out recently "Lunair and…. ah, there's Agent May." the wheelchair bound woman can't help but smirk, May punched Fox on their first meeting, it's been a point of contention ever since.

"Vorpal, this Oracle. The DA is about to come under attack. Fox advises getting her out of there, can you oblige please." Always polite when she can be. "Agent May, welcome to Gotham. Lovely night for a visit. I'm routing you to the Fox, seems our DA is about to come under attack." Fox's coordinates are sent to Mays communicator.

Melinda May pulls over to a stop to reply to Oracle. "Acknowledged." Okay, so maybe it's a good thing she hadn't ditched the motorcycle yet. She turns and accelerates back the way she came to take the next intersection toward Fox's coordinates. Unlike SOME people, she can keep working with someone even if they have come really close to destroying her patience.

There's a scrape of metal and the first thing Lunair sees is a man with a large sword flash out of the shadows. The next thing she sees (and everyone within about five blocks hears) are the twin bellows of a very angry pair of minotaurs. The some segments of the mob - as the Fox has observed before - just don't play by the rules. Two very large cow-like beings with razor sharp teeth stomp out of the shadows wielding massive axes. The Fox deflects one, moves low and lays a nasty blow near the fetlock which sends the creature tumbling. Not that it stays down. It gets the hell up. "Oracle! If you'd be so kind as to pull up the city plans and tell me where the nearest sewer that can fit a nine foot cow is I'd be grateful!"

There's. There's two enormous cow-men downstairs. Janet can't see the teeth from this high, but the axes are hard to miss. It doesn't actually get her to lose her cool entirely, but she does actually back away from the building in astonished horror. She almost spills her coffee.

Without a word, she tears over to her desk — good thing she wore the short heels tonight — and slams her hand on the security buzzer underneath her desk. "Put the building on lockdown!" she shouts. "There's a mob on the south side of the building." Because 'mob' sounds less insane than 'minotaur'.

"We need to get those things away from civilians," she begins. "Do you have someone on that? I'd have security evacuate the building, but it's probably safer in here than it is to have people scattering."

"… holy cow," Lunair blinks. "Wait, you're pagan." Pause. "The concept of sacred is important to mono and polytheistic religions, but your mom banged a bull. That's just /weird/." While Lunair's not in a good place mentally, her alertness is jumpstarted now because HOLY CRAP she doesn't want to get sliced in half or whatever. Armor up. Though, it feels weird. She doesn't make the armor green, instead it's a dark black and blue armor. It's time for MINOTAUR COMBAT.

Minotaurs, because why not, right? "I can get them away from this area, aye," Vorpal says, cracking his knuckles and thinking quickly. "Minotaurs. If only Wonder Woman were here… because, you know, Greek is her thing. Alright!" the cheshire cat raises a finger and thinks faster.

"Get everybody to the safest room possible- somewhere without windows and with several walls in between you and the outside. You've got my panic phone- use it THE MOMENT anything breaks through, if it breaks through. I'm going outside and will try to get rid of Bessie and Elsie." He doesn't know any bull names, except for Ferdinand the bull- and he is far too gentle a creature to be associated with the raging monstrosities outside.

Next thing you know, he's Rabbit Holing through the window and dropping outside several feet away from the fight-

And he's no longer wearing his uniform, but a bona fide traje de luces- the form-fitting bullfighter's uniform which may or may not be sequined.

(It totally is)

A floodlight (from where? It's illusion magic, anything is possible!) illuminates him, making him a burning, twinkling image against the inky darkness of Gotham. He takes the montera off his head and grins…

"Olé!" he unfolds a blood-red cape and swirls it around, "Olé, Toro!"

Is that a Pasodoble ( playing in the background? Yes. Yes it is. "Over here, torito! Nobody's afraid of a little cow!" Vorpal says, swirling the cape around, reflecting the light with its multiple sequins. Hey, the goal is to get the Cow Brigade away from the building and attacking something else, right?

Personal safety tends to be a secondary consideration, most of the time, in plans like these. But damnit, what's the point of a risky plan if you can't have some fun with it?

The map of the city is already on Oracle screens and on The Fox's request, the redhead is scanning the schematics to see what she can find. As she locates an appropriate location, near where The Fox is, she sends the co-ordinates to his communicator. "Coordinates sent, Fox." Conferencing May and Fox together "Agent May is incoming, Fox."

Melinda May can't help but hear the rather bovine bellows and realizes it's time to start puttering along sedately. She accelerates to likely highly dangerous speeds, but then sees Lunair becoming all armor all of a sudden. She brakes abruptly again and calls over to the young woman, "Get on, and get that naginata ready." She's planning to do something rather dangerous, and she's totally dragging Lunair along for the ride. "Fox, when I give the word, get clear." She should be able to steer clear of Vorpal, she can see him from here.

The clanging of the blade play echoes in the streets. The Fox grabs his shotgun off his belt as the second one bellows and charges him.


Lightning, yes, lightning, lances out from the gun and puts the minotaur on it's ass but it won't last for long. "Oracle they're going for the ADA. Is she clear yet?"

Vorpal's off to deal with the monsters. But that doesn't mean that's going to be the only threat… or that he's going to be successful.

Janet let her receptionist off for the night, so he's luckily out of it. She needs to get security involved, though, and corral the people remaining in the building. The rather diminutive woman pauses at her desk, opening a drawer and pulling out the holster and sidearm her father once carried as a Gotham City cop. That's on one hip. Ol' Sparky, the taser he bought her when she won the election, is stuffed into her blazer pocket.

And off she goes. She's already called security, and now she's going to make sure this floor is cleared.

Lunair is called out to and she looks over, stopping her musings on the existence of holy paganistic furry fanfics, Batman. She nods and dutifully hops on. She's actually fairly quick about it, since she owns herself a cute, dark purple scooter. "Laser, plasma, vibrating or normal?" She asks May. Once May responds, Lunair will pull the naginata as asked. At least the knows about melee weapons, even if she's kind of - not so awesome with them.

"Whatever will hamstring a bovine at thirty miles per hour." May guns the motorcycle's engine and they're off. Her intention: do a strafing run past the minotaurs and either injure them badly enough to keep them from going after the ADA, or anger them badly enough to get them to chase her.

With her systems operating on minimum, Oracle doesn't have a visual feed on the DA but she has seen that call to security. "Vorpals taken the minotaur, Fox. I … am confirming the DA now… please wait."

Dialling Janets number, Oracle waits for it to answer…. This reminds her of the good old days, not….

The next strike throws Kane bodily against the wall and he grunts, opening his eyes in time to see a quartet of winged women with long, bloodstained claws slip toward the back door. "Ugh… Furies." He's got a problem. They can fly. They'll break in through the second story windows toward the back and work their way forward. And he's pinned at the moment…

And then May blazes past. One of the bovines goes down hard with a bellow and a crack of concrete and the other turns to glare after May and Lunair as if deciding which one to charge.

It takes only a small amount of snapping at people and gesturing for them to start hustling out of their conference rooms — the few that are there — and heading down the hall and to the stairs. Security is bestirring themselves as well, treating it a bit like a fire drill… well, except that instead of leaving the building, it's time to go down into the bunker beneath. There is one, of course. The Cold War happened in Gotham, too; of course, there was a subbasement before, and it's best not to ask exactly why.

Janet snags her phone when it starts to ring, peering at the number in some incomprehension before picking up. "This is probably a bad time," she says.

Lunair went with a normal looking one, although the edge gleams more than it should. Mixin' metal and diamonds for PRO SHARPNESS and Minotaur Bothering +5. Lunair will help with the hamstringing as best as she can, prefering an energy weapon if May's not using the one she made a moment ago. Either way, this is now a motorcycle of painful prodding.

Furies? Did someone call her Tumblr friends? Would they like to talk about comics? She's never met a Fury. Oh well. They got Cows With Weapons to deal with.

Melinda May brakes abruptly and skids the bike into a turn to face the remaining minotaur. Having heard Fox's complaint about 'Furies' and immediately dimissing her first impression — that people dressed in black trenchcoats and eyepatches were converging — she turns to take the bladed polearm from Lunair. "Go help Fox." As soon as Lunair is off of the motorcycle, she revs the engine and takes off toward the remaining minotaur. Kids, don't try this at home.

Oracle sighs, not that it will transmit to Janet. You wouldn't believe how many times she's heard that line… maybe it's because, if Oracle is calling you it is generally a bad time.

"Ms Van Dorn, this Oracle, you are under attack. I suggest you leave post-haste if you haven't already. I can guide you to a safe location if you like." The redhead is relying on the schematics she has in front of her, as she enables the GPS systems on her consoles. More power to drain, but this…. this is worth it.

Kane's on the move now. He crushes a charm and lets the energy flow out… to May. A blessing washes over her, making her preternaturally agile. He hopes it helps stay out of the way of Stompy McBigHooves there who lowers his head and literally bull rushes her.

He's quick enough to intercept two of the furies. He takes one of their wings off and a second turns to deal with the sword wielding cape. The other two flap up and in through the windows. "Hey, you!" He shouts to Lunair. "Get after them. Don't let them get to the DA!"

Janet actually halts right in her tracks when she hears that name. It's a sign of the… let's call it 'respect' that she has for Oracle. She's heard the name, oh heavens yes. The woman who has observed crazed criminals ranting in the courtroom and who has been shot at more times than the average politician is actually stopped in her tracks by the name.

"Oracle," she says. "The information broker. The one whose eyes are everywhere in Gotham, at least. The walking, talking violation of our right to privacy. Hello. We really should have a talk sometime."

But even she knows now really, really isn't the time. "Security's taking everyone into the subbasement. Everyone fleeing outside is exactly what we don't need right now, I figure. Are these things really after me? Vorpal suggests they are."

Oh dang. Lunair hops off the motorcycle and nods at May. "Okay!" She's so awesome. Lunair's armored up and going to have to do her best Iron Man impression. Go Go Legally Non-Infringing Rocket Boots! She takes off, moving pretty quickly, to catch up with the Furies. It's time for an ice gun, to ice the Furies and slow them down. She's going after them, and going to do her level best to ice the angry birds.

Melinda May races toward the minotaur who, sure enough, is charging straight at her. She's going to have to time this exactly right. Giving the motorcycle one last burst of speed, she quickly moves to stand on the bike's seat like a circus performer on a horse's back, and just as the minotaur reaches her, she jumps up off of the bike, plants a foot on the thing's nose to propel herself up over its head, then slices the naginata at its neck while stepping down its neck then shoulders then back and then launches herself away from the creature at a different angle from the now riderless and falling to one side motorcycle. She does a parkourish forward roll over one shoulder to mitigate her forward momentum and turns with the polearm ready in her hands for the minotaur's next attack.

Oracle ignores the privacy violation comment. Maybe it's true and maybe it's not… there's lots of rumours about what she can, and does, do. Those rumours… help… more often than not.

"Yes, I'm sure we should, Ms Van Dorn. Excellent, and you're correct, subbasement is a good idea. According to The Fox, they've made a beeline for you."

Still no video feeds for the Clocktower bound redhead… but she has heard The Fox's instruction to Lunair, she's just not sure where…. or what. "You do have incoming, Ms Van Dorn, be on the alert. I take you are armed? Please look out for one of mine those, she probably looks like she's dressed from an anime comic or video game… I would hate for her to be injured."

Speaking through her communicator "Fox, I have the DA on the phone. Everyones headed for the sub basement. I need your eyes though."

There's a bovine scream of pain and the Minotaur staggers forward, then turns with a huff. The injuries take their toll though and it's a moment before it's ready to cahrge again. When it does it hefts it's huge battle axe rather than simply bull rushing. Slowly it lumbers forward, and then breaks into a run, weapon ehld high.

The Fox is busy fighting. Furies are renowned for their implacability. And part of that is their sheer unwillingness to lay down and die. "Someone called down old vengence on the DA." He calls back. "I've got two furies outside the building and that's as much as I can deal with just at the moment." He'll call help in a moment… soon as they're not trying to evacuate his liver through his diaphram.

By the time Lunair catches up to the furies they're kicking down the door to the conference room the DA had been in, shrieking with anger. Their claws rip at the drywall. One of them takes a hit with the ice gun and looses balance momentarily, then recovers, glaring at Lunair.

"Visions pretty limited now. Turning on the comm video feed. Uh. can you even see that right now?"

The cracking and crumbling of the room behind her brings Janet wheeling around, drawing her sidearm as she holds the phone with her other hand. It's not too far away. Some distance, but still not too far away.

"I hardly ever shoot cosplayers," Janet replies, her voice growing a little colder and more precise. Evidently when she gets stressed, she gets… icy. "These things are following me? Minotaurs and what else, Oracle? Are these things finding me with magic? Chasing me down that way?"

"BAD BIRDS! BAD!" Those are dirty birds! Lunair is unaware of the communication going on. She has to wrangle some birds. Then it hits her. Crowd control. It's time for Birdstep 2015. Wubwubwubwub. Do Furies dance? She's gonna find out. If nothing else, she's going to rile them both up and hopefully keep them from eating Janet. However dorky Lunair may be, and in her defense, it's good inspiration for things that don't exist just yet… she'd appreciate not being shot at while wrangling birds and attempting to start the angriest dance party this side of Norwegian Viking Death Metal.

She's on foot now, but that doesn't stop May from charging toward the minotaur hefts its axe and starts toward her. At this point she knows her only advantage is going to be speed. If she can't out maneuver the creature, it'll only take one hit for her to be out. She races straight toward the bovine, and at the seemingly last moment sidesteps its charge and swings the naginata at its hamstring. She's got to disable it, and fast.

"I can, but video feeds draw too much power…. I've been avoiding them unless necessary, like now." May and Kane will hear this discussion. "Conferencing the DA, in, she has questions." A couple of commands on her console and then "Ms Van Dorn meet The Fox and another associate" May, may or may not choose to introduce herself. "The Fox says there are also Furies, Ms Van Dorn" strange how the technology focussed woman speaks so calmly of such things "and that someone has called down old vengence" Whatever that means. "Perhaps you can explain, Fox?"

"Real simple. Someone spilt blood and petitioned the gods for vengence. People did it all the time way back when. Most folks don't know how to make it work these days but someone clearly did and they don't like you, Miss Van Dorn." The conversation comes as Kane repeatedly bashes the hilt of his claymore into the face of the fury in front of him. The other comes at him from behind only to be met with a kick. "Got any good brandy up there? Or wine? And a knife? Oracle, I don't suppose there's any kind of sacred ground around? Chapel in the hall somewhere? Too secular for that?"

May's strike hits home. The Minotaur is having trouble keeping up what with her enhanced speed. And the wounds are definitely taking their toll. It turns once more but slower. One more good strike should put it down.

The birds do indeed dance. But that doesn't prevent them from hip hopping over toward Lunair and Janet and trying to remove all the skin from their face. Slowly.

"You know, people used to just vote politicians they didn't like out of office." Janet's already turned and started to run from the Furies — they look pretty unnervingly like something out of Clash of the Titans, and Janet's sprinting down the stairs to get away from them. Gun? Possibly useless. But to the question of brandy?

"Uh. Actually, there's a bottle of very nice port in the bottom drawer of my desk," Janet replies, entirely nonplussed. "No knives. No chapel in the hall that I know of; maybe fifty years ago, but it's probably a conference room now… sacred ground? Really? That would work?"

Pounding down the stairs — she lost her heels a while ago; they're just slowing her down — Janet swallows hard. These things are chasing her. She is putting these people in danger. This is her responsibility.

"St. David's is one block north," she says. "See you in five." And with that, she shoves the phone into her pocket. All the better to pump her arms to start sprinting. Down to the ground floor, and out the nearest door or window. Whatever doesn't have angry cow-men or insane bird-women in it.

Lunair frowns. Normally that stops them. Maybe Furies are more into moshing or burlesque. Well, damn. Lunair's got to do something. NET GUN! "You are still bad birds!" Lunair is going to run and gun. "Do you need rocket boots or something?" She asks. Lunair isn't going to let Janet go splat if she can help it.

"I have a knife." May doesn't elaborate, knowing that she needs to end this imediately. She rushes the minotaur once again, trying to move before the bovine has enough time to recover from his injuries and ready another attack. And, knowing that time is running out, she aims the naginata for an artery. Sorry, Babs. It's kill or be killed at this point.

Oracle tracks Janets progress using her cell phone and feeds the details to Mays and The Foxs' communicators. "She's correct, I'm tracking her. Don't have eyes on though. Details to your communicators. It sounds like Lunair is following her."

With the grid down, there's little more the redhead can do…

May's strike severs the corotid and leaves the minotaur to collapse in the street. There's the sound of more fighting both over the communicator and from around the corner where Kane is. Then silence.

A few moments later the clattering of hooves heralds the druid's approach. He's swiped the booze. And he's coming right for May. "Hop up!" He yells hand out. "We've got to meet them there. Get that knife ready." Beat. "Do you think Lunair's a virgin? Nevermind. Hopefully they won't be picky."

Wings flap above Janet and more furies shriek. There's a lot of them in the darkenss. Fortunately holy ground is not far off and from the glowing elk moving up behind them neither is the Fox.


Janet does manage to shout this, but she isn't looking back. There's nothing she could see behind her that would make her run any faster. She will remember this next time she's going for a jog when she wants to push herself that extra mile. Just remember the Furies on your trail.

It's not super-easy to sprint in a pencil skirt, but Janet is going full-bore regardless. Maybe she deserves this. Maybe she really did someone wrong. She's willing to bet it's some jerk who self-justified beating his wife, though. Furies aren't necessarily picky.

St. David's is indeed just a block up: a large pale stone church with lovely stained glass windows, big wooden doors, and a lovely grand staircase going up to them. Janet springs up the stairs, scrambling for purchase, then pulling and banging on the doors. Will the porch count? Is the ground sacred enough? Is the parking lot sacred?

Well, that's that then. Time to get Legally Not-Infringing Copyright Power Armor on Janet. She'll find it's sort of a deep red, offset by a marvelous orange and that when she kicks off, she can in fact, rocket boot off. And she even has a neat HUD and can see good. At least they won't shred poor Janet. "OKAY, I GOT YOU! BAD BIRDS!" Flailflail, net more furies, follow the nice DA Lady. Also, it's skirt armor. World firsts here, peeps.

Melinda May is by no means an accomplished rider. What? It's just not a skill that is needed very often. She understands the concept, though, having seen enough movies in her time. She tosses the naginata to her other hand, catches Fox's hand and swings up onto the elk's back, only managing to not fall off the mount's other side out of sheer luck (or maybe a blessing that was sent her way earlier).

Porches totally count. Porches come from Greek temples, actually, architecturally speaking and are sacred spaces. Of course Kane's about to direct Janet to perform an offering for one religion on a different religion's holy ground but… he's pretty sure it'll work. If one offended party or another doesn't strike them all with lightning.

Either way, those thoughts aside, what pulls up next to Lunair and Janet as increasing numbers of Furies circle is a transparent blue elk with two people on it. "Okay. Bear with me. May, the knife. We'll need to cut Janet's palm. Lunair hold the booze. Soon as Janet bleeds on the floor dump it all on the ground. Are you a virgin? It'll help. If not don't worry. No time." So many words from the man on the glowing ghostly elk. "Oracle. Can you find The Homeric Hymns, ii 17-21. In the original greek if at all possible. We're going to appease the powers that be. Janet'll have to say those words since someone went and soiled her good name."

Beat. Kane looks from Lunair to Janet and back again having just registered that Janet is now armored. "Uh. When did the Gotham DA become an Ironette?"

Janet, sprinting up the road, is suddenly FLYING up the road. Red and orange power armor. Definitely does not say Stark Industries anywhere on it. Definitely does have a kicky little metal skirt. The night has gone from weird to weirdest.

So she jets the last few feet, a Dopplering scream emitting from a lady who has never actually operated power armor before and is not sure where the brakes are. Apparently she figures it out in the last instant, because instead of faceplanting into the doors, she's hovering about an inch away. Gulp.

Turning around and settling back on the porch — the armor has synced with her phone, which is nice, and it's a little insight into what life must be for DELETED DUE TO COPYRIGHT on a daily basis.

"The… internet should have that," she says, checking her hands. Armored now. But it doesn't take much to figure out how to make one of the hands slide back. "I swear, if I'm being filmed right now, someone is going to hurt very much at the end of this. And it is none of your damn business if I am a virgin." Though given she's an American woman in her thirties, odds are off.

Yeah, oops. Lunair quietly kicks herself mentally. Should've remembered that! Ooh well. It looks so cool to see Gotham's DA totally rocketing down the road. Lunair's eyes widen. She really needs to put a manual on these things or figure out a more intuitive brake system. It's a mental note filed away for later as she catches up to Janet and the others.

Also, this really is a bit of a learning experience for Lunair. She's filing it all away. "I'm holding booze!" Ooh, it's a first. Well, she can totally do that. "Who, me?" She is more confused than offended. But for now, Lunair is totally gonna roll with it and be confused.

Melinda May promptly pulls a throwing knife from inside one sleeve as she disembarks from the elk as hastily as she can without looking completely uncoordinated. Armor, no armor, whatever. She sets the naginata aside and offers the knife hilt-first to the armored DA while pulling another, much more Dundee-esque blade from behind her back. You know, in case those harpy things get too close.

Realising that Janet isn't holding her phone, Oracle uses more power and activates the speaker phone. "Ms Van Dorn, I have the texts The Fox wanted, I will feed you the lines, you just need to repeat them. Are you ready to begin?" Did Oracle have them, in the original greek, that fast?

The english translations are sent to the DA's phone, the wheel chair bound woman grimacing at the power she's using.

The Fox dismounts and takes up his shotgun. "Okay. Janet. Cut your hand and bleed on the pavement. Lunair, you know what to do. Oracle, feed her the text…" The Furies dive in. His shogtun cracks and twin bolts of lightning lance out, turning one into ash. "Do it! DO IT NOW!" Then his blade is out and they're upon them.

No need for the extra power, Oracle will soon see — the phone has synced with the armor, and Janet can both hear and speak. "If you can sync up with my armor, you can give me the text," she begins. But she's faced with May, then; turning toward her, she inclines her head once, regards the naginata with surprised interest, then takes the throwing knife with a little nod. It always looks awful when they do this in the movies. She's sure the palm is the worst place. It has the most nerves, and —

Doesn't actually stop her from slicing a gash across her hand, then squeezing that hand into a fist to let the blood drip onto the pavement. "Ready," she grits out.

Okay, Lunair's got a job to do. May's actions make Lunair blink. Wow. She probably did punch the dinosaurs into extinction because they screwed up an operation. Or something. Either way, whooooooa. Nevertheless, Lunair has a job to do. Once Janet's blood hits the pavement, Lunair will do her well, job. She'll pour it all onto the ground over the blood. She's watching warily for harpies, though.

Melinda May brandishes the KNIFE, which actually turns out to be her paired butterfly swords (that honestly look like a slightly more elegant matched pair of machetes, but semantics). When the Furies start attacking, she slashes with both blades at the one that didn't get turned to ash. Best case scenario, Fury in triplicate. Good enough, sliced and diced wings.

The texts have been sent to Janets phone…. errrr…. suit. "Ms Van Dorn, the english and greek texts are there. If you like, I can help you with the Greek." and if Janet says yes, Oracle will (with the help of a translation program) speak the lines in Greek so Janet can repeat them.

Speak the lines as she speaks them unto you, trippingly on the tongue.

Or something like that.

There may be a small amount of horror at the damage that May and Kane can wreak with just blades. To be fair May is a SHIELD agent and Kane is world class with his fighting arts.

Roughtly translated the text goes: 'Be favourable, O Insewn, Inspirer of frenzied women! we singers sing of you as we begin and as we end a strain, and none forgetting you may call holy song to mind. And so, farewell, Dionysus, Insewn, with your mother Semele whom men call Thyone.'

As soon as Janet finishes the last word the furies cease their abrupt assault and vanish quickly into the gloom leaving behind their dead. Which won't remain for long. The bodies will have withered to old leaves and sand before daybreak.

"They're gone Oracle." The Fox reports sighing and shaking the blood off his weapon. "Good work everyone."

"I'm good with languages," Janet murmurs vaguely. "If you say it, I'll repeat it." And when Oracle complies, so does she.

She actually does speak the words fairly trippingly. The armor knows when its mask needs to slide back, and her cold blue eyes stare out at the furies called on her for, she's rock-hard certain, selfish and foolish reasons. She means everything she's saying. And where the majestically dangerous women surrounding her are laying about with blades, she's cutting with words.

And there. It's done. Janet's breathing fast, her bleeding hand clutched into a fist. She nods once to the report. It's maybe the armor that's keeping her from slumping back into the door.

Phew. Lunair is a bit surprised at the damage the two do, but not too much. They are good at what they do. She blinks as they vanish. Then Lunair looks thoughtful. "Man. That's so rotten that someone can just up and claim they got wronged and sic mystical, angry Greek critters on people without some sort of proof." Really. Who thought that was a good idea? Oh well. Lunair pauses. "Do you need like, a bandaid?" She's trying. But Lunair won't keep Janet.

Melinda May watches the Furies disappear and finally stands down. She's even actually winded. Surprising, that. (No, not really.) She turns to look at the others to see if anyone's injured, then she's stepping back over to the still-armored van Dorn and pulling one of those military-type bandage packs to help staunch the bleeding from the cut on her hand. She does NOT recommend Fox Mask Guy's healing methods.

"Good to hear, Fox. Is everyone alright? I'm powering down visual systems, to conserve power." Oracle responds from her perch in the tower. "Ms Van Dorn, a lovely job and pleasure to work with you… under the circumstances that is." She considers a moment "I've put an app on your phone, Ms Van Dorn. Please get your security teams to do a tear down on it…. it's a way you may communicate with me, securely, and I you." If the DA wants, she can uninstall it… Oracle hopes that the woman doesn't though.

"Fox, May, Lunair, good work. Lunair, you and I should have a way to communicate as well." The womans attention is split between the group on the ground and the rest of Gotham, though.

"The Greek ideal of justice isn't… modern." The Fox explains. "They would have listened to someone just because, say, he was being a good son by callong for vengeance for his parents. Fortunately they seem to have accepted your offering. Thanks for the support O." The fox masked man with a sword sighs and shakes the blood off before sheathing it. He breaks open his shotgun - to puffs of purple smoke come out - and loads in a pair of faintly glowing crystals. "Well… there's more that needs doing tonight I'm sure what with the power out. Anyone need a lift before I get back to it?"

"I'll take it under advisement." The chances are reasonable that Janet will delete the app — she's the stubborn sort, and unlikely to take any help from someone like Oracle. But then again, people like that woman have proven over and over again that in this world, sometimes a little much is called for.

Janet hands back the throwing knife as May binds her up. "Thank you," she begins. But it's hugely, vastly insufficient. She shakes her head a little and almost-smiles. "How… did you get that good?"

To The Fox, she… well, she takes a second to stare at him and then shakes her head. "I think I can get back to City Hall if I click my heels three times. I appreciate the offer. Thank you, all of you, for helping to keep those people safe."

Melinda May shakes her head no to Kane. She's pretty sure the glowing blue elk would try to kick her if he got the chance. She DID kind of take Stomper down at one point. "Practice, Ms. van Dorn. Oracle, I'm going to make sure van Dorn gets back to the City Hall building." Because she'd really, truly rather do that the deal with the typical Gotham crazies that are undoubtedly out on the streets right now.

"Please do Ms Van Dorn." Oracle knows that to push is to loose. She doesn't gain anything by pushing the point. "Always, Fox. That's what I 'm here for." And with May and The Fox, the three of them make a good team.

On the channel with just May and Fox, Oracle shares "I've food and drink here, drop by if you like. It's not much and I can spare a little power to heat it." Of course, she's living on cold snacks and drinks… but no one has ever said the woman looks after herself properly. "May, if you can drop by a few minutes anyway, I'd like to give Lunair a communicator."

To the group, though, the redhead speaks "If that's all, there is more for me to be doing this night. Oracle out."

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