The Fever

June 14, 2015:

The Fever has hit Gotham… Oracle sends people out on a lead

Gotham

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Mood Music: None.


Fade In…

Gotham has been slightly more noisy in the wake of Fever; it's only been out for a couple weeks, and only in the last couple days has the fatal effects of it become pronounced. The drug trade is nothing that can ever be completely culled from the dark suburbs, but this one is far worse than any other that's making the rounds; sold at a premium with no thought or care for the destruction it causes, pointing to someone with a certainly sociopathic lack of qualms.

The dealers are all the same, and this one is no exception; a man in an old-fashioned 1940's suit with a crisp fedora, lingering in the darkness of an alley. Desperate and twitching junkies occasionally walk up, before he slips out small packets of the Fever drug from his inside pocket and palms crumpled handfuls of money. A lucrative business in short order.

This 'Scarface' is a mystery even to the likes of Oracle, as there's no public record of his crimes. Only the underworld and rumors, which indicates he was responsible for hitting over a gold reserve a couple weeks back, likely what funded the Fever enterprise, a tidy and perfectly orchestrated hit worth seven figures. Enough for a common criminal to retire for life, but it seems this person is using it just to get started. Some say it's Al Capone himself, some say it's a midget, some say it's a doll, some mention a strange old man, it's all a complete mess with none of the key players who might actually *know* something yet found…


"I know this isn't your usual gig, Fox, but I appreciate the assist." Oracles in the Clocktower, watching over Gotham, as she does, and speaking to The Fox through the communicator "This new drug, it's bad news. Gotham needed another drug epidemic like a hole in the head." She's unimpressed. Unimpressed that she doesn't have a better handle on it… even though it's just hit the streets.

"The location I've given you, seems to be something of an epicentre… or at least somewhere where a large number of users have been found." beat "It will help to get some reconnaisance on the location, who knows what we'll find."


"I wasn't aware things were good enough that we could count the individual epidemics." The Fox masked man rides atop the rooftops of Gotham astride a glowing elk. Normally he handles 'weird stuff'. Tonight though Oracle's called him in to get a look at a drug operation. Not really his line of work but since it's Oracle asking he agreed. Just out of curiosity the Druid of Gotham gets out one of his seeing crystals and looks around. No supernatural auras out of the ordinary, not that this is unexpected. "Well I should be just about on top of it in a moment."


Anyone who was sufficiently high on the drug is liable to not wonder at all about someone riding an elk on the rooftops. Not that such is anywhere readily visible in the first place, of course. It takes little time once the Fox is negotiated to the correct area to pinpoint where the dealer is; there's plenty of higher vantage points to watch the milling addicts head to him and then head away, some already ripping open the pouches to place it in their mouths; an oral drug, the ease of use one of the reasons it has become so widespread. The suited figure is well-built and impeccably groomed, with the tell-tale bulge of a pistol visible across his heart in a shoulder holster under those pinstripes. Looking left and right, sometimes up and around, although not the most perceptive of men despite his efforts.


"So, I'm not sure what we're looking for…" Oracles watching the security and CCTV feeds from the street. "There's a well dressed person on the street to your left, I would suspect that they might be worth looking at."

Checking her screens for other activity, Oracle considers the situation. She's already advised Agent May of the new epidemic, but the woman has been busy with the 'day job'.


The Fox, a man in a fox masquerade mask, hooded cloak and leather-and-linen outfit stops and gets off the elk, letting it go back to… wherever it goes when he's not using it. He peers down at the goings on before moving back to drop down an alley. "Okay. I'm here. What's the play. What do you want to know? I doubt very much the 'beat them and ask questions' method will work as well for me as it does for the Bat."


Nothing much seems to be going on as the man is observed longer and longer. Barbara manages to bring up the man's name, Floyd Roderick, and his rap sheet. He's a desperate thug who lost his job at a young age and became a career criminal, but has an ineffective solo rapsheet with the highlight of being kicked in the back by the Batman some years back running with a purse. Must be a badge of honor in the neighborhood. Analysis further brings up the suit and make appear Italian, but Floyd is most certainly an American mutt, and has never once appeared to bother with such an opulant outfit… he is almost certainly backed by the unknown 'Scarface', and fits the only motif that can be gone on — Al Capone.


"Well, now that I have a visual, I have some information." The details that Oracle has found are relayed to The Fox "Let's try talking first, shall we?" Something a little unique for the wheelchair bound redhead, Batman normally doesn't like to talk. "And go from there. After all…." Oracle actually chuckles a little "they may be in need of assistance. But keep your guard up…"


"Sure thing then." The Fox is… fairly impressive. He's covered in leather or linin except for the lower part of his face. He's armed… rather prominently with a large two handed sword, crossbow and a sawwed off. He has a bandolier of purple crystals across his chest and a pouch of charms at his side. None of his weapons are actually drawn… but they are in evidence. "Floyd Roderick?" He calls out. "Need a word with you."


The approach of the Fox causes the large man to blink, before looking somewhere between concerned and amused. "The fuck?" Once he's spoken to, a more defensive stance is taken. "The hell you know my name? Who're you?" A hand slips into the front of his suit, visibly grasping the hilt of his gun… although the step backwards and glance at the vigilante's own armnament makes this not as confident a gesture as he intended. "I ain't talkin' to no midnight clown show. Nuh uh."


"Well, that's not unexpected Fox." Oracle watches the interaction from the Clocktower "I'm sure I'd respond in a similar, if slightly more polite, vein myself." Blowing out a small breath, the redhead considers. "You are a little impressive, go carefully, Fox. I'm watching."


Melinda May has arrived, but not in time to touch base with Kane before he approaches Al Capone out there. So, she stays in the shadows out of either man's line of sight, and carefully pulls her ICER in case Oracle's suggestion of talking first doesn't turn out so well. "Oracle, May." Her voice is nearly silent, but she knows that the Gotham information goddess will hear her anyway. "I'm on site, I see fox approaching the target. I'm staying back, but I'll provide cover as needed."


The Fox dips his hand into the pouch at his side and comes out with a stone charm. "Eaaaasy. If I wanted to hurt you I wouldn't have tried talking. I know your name because it gets around. You're peddling feaver. Now, you might notice, I'm not a cop, so lucky you, I'm not gonna try to take you in. I'm interested in where you get your supply though." Let's try to be reasonable about this right? No need to get violent. Pretty obvious that the Fox doesn't approve of the drug trade but that doesn't mean he goes around beating up dealers.


"Hah!" Floyd's not sure where this man is getting his information, but he's not smart enough for that to worry him as much as it ought to. "Yeah, I'm selling Fever. You want a hit? First one's free. But if you think I'm gonna smack lips about the operation, you got another thing coming." He's not taken the gun out yet, but his hand remains poised to do so if he feels inclined. A few more steps backwards take him deeper into the alley. "I ain't got no death wish…"


"Acknowledged May. It's so nice to see they breed them intelligently." Oracle conferences Mays and Fox's communicators. May will have that exchange. "Mays watching your back, Fox. He's probably going to try and lead you down that alley." She won't say becareful again. "Accessing city plans, I'll get you the layout, see if it's a dead end or not." Or what might lead off or on to it.

Blueprints for the city appear on her screen and she starts to zoom in on that area. It will take a minute or so to fully display it.


The Fox eyes the other guy. "No I don't want a hit and no I don't want this stuff being dealt. Which I guess leaves us at kind of an impasse. I mean I get it. Light's rough here you're just trying to make a buck. Which is why I wasn't going to go hard on you." The Fox takes a step forward, crushing the charm in his hand as he does. His skin, what of it is visible (not much) takes on a rough, dark, pebbly texture. "So really, let's not make this difficult eh?" The news that May is nearby gets an slight nod from the Fox.


"You wanna make it tough?!" states Floyd, tensing with a jutt to his teeth. "If my name's out in the town, maybe I'll just make a better one icing a vigilante!" The charm is already broken and activated, as a six round magnum revolver swishes out. Lunging further backwards, he unloads it a bit wildly, although that's not to say a couple bullets might not find the mark at such close range. If any do, it would of course not inflict serious harm anyway; but still feel like one hell of a >thump< to the body! People begin to scatter at the report of the weapon, echoing into the city. There seems to be a dead end behind him; he didn't go somewhere with good exit routes, which might be why he's opted for the 'murder' approach.


The moment Floyd pulls that revolver, May's ICER is up and aimed at him. She doesn't instantly have a clear shot, but as soon as she does, she fires just ONE round. And, sorry Oracle, it's a head shot. At least she's using her ICER and not the 1911 pistol that Partisan made for her. The guy will have a paintball-caliber bruise on his forhead, but he'll live to regret pulling that magnum.


A couple of the rounds do hit home and they hurt. The Fox staggers back a couple of paces and goes for his crossbow. "Ow! Hey! Fine, have it your way!" He shouldn't be surprised. He really shouldn't. But he was hoping, you know, for a little bit of intelligence. Just this once. Hope does spring eternal.


The city blueprints reveal this is indeed a dead end alley and there appear to be no other accesses to the buildings on either side. Oracle relays this information to The Fox and May. She's seen and experienced Fox's pebble skin charm before but the report of the weapon has her cringing. If May can get that shot, she should take it. For now, the wheelchair bound redhead can only watch as this plays out.


Before the crossbow can be brought to bear, Floyd spasms and thumps to the ground, a hard clatter heard from the ricocheted round off his forehead. His eyes are crossed, groaning with his revolver skidding a couple meters away. Not entirely unconscious, but pretty much harmless as a kitten for the next length of time. "Nnngh…"


Huh. That's not the way the ICER is supposed to work, but May's not about to complain. Tucking the pistol-like weapon away again, she hurries over to check on Kane and the fallen dealer. "Sitrep, Fox. I know you took at least one hit."


An alert flashes on Oracles screen, GCPD have been alerted and …. they're taking their time to get to the scene. It is The Narrows afterall. "GCPD are on their way, you have some time though, they're not hurrying." Mays already asked for an update "Time to ask some questions."

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