Internal Warfare

June 22, 2015:

Running out the Ibanescu trade from East End, leads to other dealings.

East End, Gotham

The first impression of Gotham for many is East End, a district notorious
for it's poverty, crime, prostitutes and drugs. The lit up central strip at
night is colorful, bright and looks like something out of Las Vegas with its
innumerable gentleman's clubs, casinos, bars and strip clubs. The
downtrodden feel of East End has been glossed over by these glowing lights
and brilliant signs along with the towering cityscape of surrounding
districts, such as Otisburg, Burnley and to the north the Robert Kane
Memorial Bridge.

Along the East End's southern region the streets begin to be overtaken by
cobblestone alleyways, alleyways that web work throughout a rundown slum
city of shacks, sheds, makeshift homes and decrepit apartments called
Alleytown. A heavily populated district many immigrants and their
descendants call home.

Park Row aka Crime Alley rests upon the other side of the main strip,
dominated by an underdeveloped housing project called Scurvy City by the
locals (it's actual name being the Skirley Apartments), East End Free
Clinic, the Bowery, Tin Roof Club, Sheldon Park, Robbinsville and the GCPD's
9th Precinct.


NPCs: Jackal, Ocelot, Caracal


Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The may have shut down the old Batman protoype bike she stole for the moment, but Catwoman has angles, many of them that can work around if she must. That's what she does, its how she lives. That and with taking risks, ones that might just land her in positions like this.

For once East Ends gates of rubble, vehicles, and armed men are open. One area where a truck plowed through, blasting the junk heap into shrpnel of large flying mass, pursued in a herald of gunfire and the zig-zagging motion of that motorcycle to dodge the men leaning out of the sides spraying bullets at Catwoman who is in hot persuit of them, yelling into her comm. "Stop that truck, I don't care if they have left our quarters, we've worked too lon and hard for them to get away. Jackal, how is the warehouse raid?"
"We got cages of animals Catwoman, dogs. Not in good shape….And people, mainly women, Ibanescu's men aren't letting up!"

In that background heavy gunfire can be heard as well, but months have been spent ferreting out where some of -her- girls have been disappearing to as well as children, and finally a seed planted was taken. A young girl new in her employ plucked from the streets and stuck in a cage to be sold to the highest bidder and shipped out. They did not expect all that they found, but they had to split when they took the money and ran…

Two other Alley Cats rode behind catwoman on their Kawasakis, fanning out then to flank each side of the reformed 'Cat-cycle' also weaving and breaking to dodge bullets, a fire of a grappling gun anchoring Catwoman to the bumper, latching it onto the handles of the bike. "Autopilot."

"Take them for everything. Let them know how it feels to be caged. Put them in the cages with their dogs. East end is /ours/. Make that message clear." And in saying that she rises to stand on the motorcycle, the whip unravelled from her waist to


So John had told him not to go to Gotham. Too many crazies, he said. But Parker didn't listen because his cuz is such a New Yorker. Besides, Ibanescu is a nobody. Not a real Gotham crazy, no super-powered bodyguards. And the Hood is invisible.

The truck getting chased by heavily armed female bikers was not in the plans. Now, Parker has been in a car chase once or twice. But he doesn't know Gotham streets, and that is a serious disadvantage. Besides, he doesn't have a Hood-mobile, just a 'borrowed' Camaro someone stupidly left too close to the East End. Sometimes he misses the old times where stealing a car like this would make his day,

Over 500 horsepower should be enough to overtake the truck quickly. On a road, during the day. But here he needs to avoid the bikes and also try to predict the truck path through unfamiliar streets. Oh, and now the guys from the truck are shooting too. Parker pulls his own handgun, but not much of a chance to shoot, for now his hands got to stay on the wheel. He is trying to get closer, though.

You don't have to have super powers to take something and own it. Wiles, cunning, sheer stupidity, and a cause… A solid reason you keep going despite how much they make you like swiss cheese or threaten to. Catwoman's is in the back of that truck ready to be shipped off to Madripoor's even deeper undergound brothels where even your soul is swallowed with your body - also surrounded by a few million other reasons, safed away.

The whip coils around the back door of the trucks handle, one booted foot planted on the handlebars of her bike to send it veering to the side, the rear wheel flipping end over end in the sudden trajectory change from autopilot, keeping aligned and upright as the wheels axis changes revolution to suit the unstable situation. One that makes the whip tense and with a recoiling *snapping* draw of her arm her body is flipping end over end to land up-side down on the back door, her legs hooked over the top of the truck anchoring her there as it suddenly jerks and threatens to throw her off in the turn…

The two bikes flanking speed up, one pulling along side the camaro, the dark haired female's stare a narrowed leer overtop the trio of scars beneath her left eye. "Cats, we got a motherfucker in a camaro with an agenda back here."

"Distract him Caracal."
And with those words her gunfire redirects to hood and engine of Hoods ride while the blonde with short cropped hair speeds ahead to flank the truck and unload into the drivers side, the truck snapping sharply her way and knocking her and her cycle end over end.

"Oc? Motherfuckers, Caracal, reroute, get her, I'll handle this."
"Check her and get back here! Jackal status."

Gunfire on the other end. "No sign of Ibanescu, his men are fleeing, some are in cages, but to make it easy we let the rest loose on 'em. The dogs are handling their own fight now. I love these beasts… No offense."
"Tch. Get the girls and take everything, gut it then burn the warehouse to the bricks."

Catwoman's clawed grip only does s much wedged into the door jam, one another charp turn is had her body is throttled off the precariously balanced top to lash out and over the road, only held by the whip wrapped around her hand.

Parker eyes narrow as one of the women turns her guns on his car. That is no way to treat a ZL1. He brakes and zigs right to avoid the hail of bullets. Still, he loses the right side headlights. Now he is half blind, for more fun. He speeds on again, to try to run over this Caracal woman before she shots again, but the woman goes to help her fallen buddy. Good, less killing and more stealing, if you don't mind.

There is a costumed woman climbing the truck. Damn. Also, now he is getting shot at. The windshield shatters in a million pieces, and Parker protects his eyes from the flying glass. Then he shoots back, taking out the lateral rearview mirror and… maybe he hit the driver, he slows down a little.

Parker sinks his foot in the gas pedal and the Camaro rams the truck back.

Costumed woman that cannot fly!

But it does not show with the acrobatics as she is suspended out over the road with the truck zig-zagging to try and shake the persuers. Catwoman's clawed grip upon the whip does not let up, because this would be road rash that would put her down for a good while. Bullets hail from the truck back towards her and the camaro..

"Run these plates!" Catwoman calls into her comm to the other side that she knows is listening, Rant loves this stuff even from afar. Her own 'information goddess' of the shadows. "G07H4M9." (Probably because Batman has G07H4M1.)
"Another vigilante."

"Fuck him. This is ours. Our girl's in there!"

Parkers return fire hits dead on, but not from the barrel and aim. Bullets ricihet off metal and it through and throughs twice, ending in a neck wound that has a horn blaring as the body slumps and the truck /screeches/…

Legs scissor out, one bending to pivot her body as it jolts and snaps around in a wide arch, one steel stiletto scraping across the roof of the camaro before Catwoman kicks back up and off of it to flip and land upon the roof of the truck. Clinging down the back, she grabs the handles of the doors and flings them open to flip inside just before it hits a curb and flips to its side. Skidding across the road in a small circle, she's taking possession before it all goes belly up…

Not reported stolen yet, Parker took the car just a couple hours ago, but it is a logical deduction. He just thought he needed a good ride, and he was right. The idea wasn't to destroy the vehicle, though. Too bad.

Catwoman's crazy acrobatics give him a second of pause. But the truck is slowing down, and out of control, so he hits the brakes to put a few yards distance in the case it flips over and waits to see what happens, returning his gun to the shoulder holster and checking quickly for the other biker gang women.

Whatever he finds, the car just 'lost' its driver. He goes invisible.

The passenger side door is kicked open, the man's leg protruding as the metal flys open and back to allow him exit, gun arm first to sling over the ledge and aid in pulling him up and out, though slowly as one eye is blinded by blood from a laceration across his forehead, staining and matting blonde hair.

"Fuck ya, bitches! Shit.. Ibanescu's gonna be pissed.." A cell phone is flipped out as he is bringing it to his ear to make acal and raise his pistol. A look of eyes from the empty camaro, firing three shots at it, shattering the windshield in the process just to be sure.

Paranoid his gaze is snapping around but when he nears the open back end of the truck, one door is hanging closed while the other is pinned back beneath the body. "Yeah, what you want me to do about this shit? The bitch is probably no good anymore after a wreck like we had, need another truck to come get this cargo, and fast!"

Hitting the phone screen it closes the call to a backup ride just as he ducks to look inside the back of the truck.

A flurry of money is launched into his face and, *CRACK!*

"My fucking eye!" The man falls, gun clattering to the ground as he clutches the other eye and laments in a small pile of cash.

The door to the truck pushes upon and a younger girl, no more then 18 clings to Catwoman's side looing bedraggled and with a brusing lump upon her temple from impact. "Caracal. Status."
"Oc has a broken arm, clavicle, sprained wrist. It broke her fall that coulda been worse. She's on her way back to the Club."
"Good, come get Jas out of here before this gets worse."

Catwoman's goggled gaze looks around then falls on the man clutching his eye, reaching for his gun with his other hand.
Parker got out just in time. All he needs is sneaking into the truck and… well, well. He has expected an armed guard or two, not a little girl. Ibanescu's thug is probably going to get beaten up by the woman in the cat suit. He likes to think that he is doing him a favor hitting the back of his head with his own gun.

For the girls, the thug goes unconscious suddenly. But a second later then gun on the floor moves up on its own accord. And two seconds later, Parker becomes visible again, pointing to Catwoman with said gun and one of his own. "He, good night. I guess you got the girl, hmm? Fine for me, I didn't even know about her. Now, if you don't mind, move aside."

Catwoman's gaze behond those clear lensed goggles narrows. One hand upon the girl slowly moves Jas behind her with a push of splayed palm as the gun rises on its own and a body becomes visible, making the youger girl gasp, but only sets Catwoman's jaw more firmly, and then the small sneer flashes a hint of teeth on their set of refrained low growl.

The only sound that omits is a /tsk/, her posture righting in front of those guns as positioning puts her tritely between.

"No." The one word stated boldly as chin rises followed abruptly by the whisper of the leather coil falling from her grip and its coil to slap lazily along the metal inside of the truck. But this could only go so far before it went sideways again, the girl at Catwoman's back a reminder.

"One third and we all walk."
"One third?" Parker eyes narrow, then glances at the cash and chuckles. "A thief, not a hero. The bold rescuing confused me, my apologies." He doesn't lower his guns, though. "Actually… you can keep all the stuff inside the truck but for one thing I want. Just a little device that got into Ibanescu's paws through strange circumstances."

A small huffed 'hmph' passes Catwoman's lips at his words, the girl getting brought around to her side while position between the two is kept until she is shoving her out the entry of the truck towards the sound of an approaching motorcycle.

"I'm here."
"Take Jas back and go. I'll be following shortly."

Caracal doesn't ask as the younger girl clings to her back on a leap to ascend the motorcycle. Watchful and wary as she turns slowly away from the wreckage and then speeds off. "Be careful."

"Never." The single word said on a small smile.

"Don't claim to know my motives." Catwoman now states to Hood as she slams a clawed hand upon a crate and flips the sealed lid off with a low groan of the wretched loose nails. "Paws is an odd term for a man who brutalizes animals and young women. My people are currently razing his assets. What does this /device/ look like?"

Parker slides into the shadows when he hears the motorcycle approaching. This one happens to be semi-friendly, but he really needs to make himself scarce before the cops or Ibanescu's men arrive. Or maybe he is finished, if he is to trust the woman's words. "It is a metal disk, about the size of your palm. An inch or so thick."

The shadows flicker off the feline contours as Catwoman makes her way through the downed truck, plays of light on latex to show tears during the fall, one seeping blood from thigh but it does not hinder her nor get regard. She got her girl, that is all that mattered first and foremost. Now to load up the money..

A medic bag as well as a duffel bearing shackles and chain leashes is dumped with a large racket to the floor at heeled feet. "What will this disk bring you? Ibanescu is a thorn I wish to not keep active in Gotham." A pause as she speaks into her comm, a reminder. "Jackal?"

The crate filled with the hay filling is delved into and stacks of cash are being deposited into duffels. From the other end rabid sounding animal snarls and screams are heard. "Just 'aving some fun before we wrap it up. This detail isshut down Catwoman."

"Good, make it fast. Detail 1 complete." but another detail is presenting itself and those jade eyes focus back on Hood, unwavering.

Hood shrugs. Friendly chatter is one thing, but giving useful information for free? Not so cool. "Just… you keep the cash. I'll take the device. If you are a curious cat, I can explain some other day." He pockets the thug's handgun, but keeps the other in his right hand, just not pointing at Catwoman anymore. He also approaches the truck slowly, keeping an eye on that whip.

Catwoman pauses in her gathering of the cash, a swift and eased motion that is done in a relative flurry of deft and trained motions that have made her through time and time again. "Curiousity is not what has gotten me this far." If you know the old adage. "Is this business in Gotham?"

The pause ended when her question did, and the gathering commences, ended by the grinding of the zipper coming closed on a duffel, one she stands over as the other is shaken out and laid to rest to be filled. Another grate opened and dug within.

The whip had found home and recoiled around her waist, the tasseled end of multiple tails dangling down from her back like a tail of its own, swaying with her movements. "You explain that to me now, or you have no deal."
"Nah, I am a New Yorker," replies the man. "I go by as the Hood. I have a nice setup there and I rarely do business in Gotham." He smiles faintly, "you are a bossy woman, hmm? I am armed and I can go invisible. If I was out to harm you, I would just have shot you while you were busy with this loser," he gestures to the unconscious thug. "Instead, I am letting you go with Ibanescu treasure trove. Not a third or anything. I just want that device."

The final duffel is loaded and the reformed Bat-cycle, now: Cat-cycle pulls up on its own, slowing to a stop behind Hood and the truck. Walking towards him with both duffels in hand she pauses at his side and only turns her head to face him with a small smile playing over those stained lips while words utter lowly just beside his hood where an ear would rest.

"You have -no- idea." She states in regads to her bossiness. "But let me thank you for extending a kindness you have yet to show, ~hm?~" A perk of brow as those words escaping lips seem a mixture of a purr and a low beastial growl all from the lips of a lithe woman slinking her way past.

"Jackal, if you find a disk one inch thick, palm sizzed amongst the keep, bring it to me." The onyl response Catwoman gets through the comm is the sound of an explosion with a response.
"Detail 2 done. You wanted what?"

A glance to a hefted bag and Catwoman smiles. "Will you /save my life/ again?" She inquires as she swings one leg over the motorcycles seat and claims it, lashing down the bags to the back, unzipping one.

"Yes. Well…" Hood points the gun at Catwoman again. But then checks something in his left hand and hmrs. "Nevermind, have a good night, oh mysterious lady." He jumps into the truck and begins searching for more loot. "Yeah!" He says when he finds the device. "Nice to meet you, anyway!"

"You flatter me." Catwoman states to the raised and pointed gun, blowing him a kiss just before she turns on the cycle and speeds off down the road to head back into East End, behind her the Alley Cats already working on sealing the makeshift wall of rubble back into place.

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