Happy Valentines Day - Almost

February 13, 2016:

A jail break and Harley does the bunk …

Blackgate Penentiary


NPCs: None.



Mood Music: None.

Fade In…

Blackgate Penitentary: Inmate #j3573r-2 - Transfer to Arkham Asylum for treatment.

The manila folder is shoved back into a large accordian binder full of a single case file on one Doctor Harleen Quinzel as the guards within the armored transport truck ready and disembark with their rifles gripped from the mounts upon the dash.

Behind the truck there are several official vehicles and another transport truck where the drivers remain seated within, the engines running but their seats now swivelling to the small view out the side of their doors, a slender sliding door opened to view with a notch just beneath to rest the barrel of the semiautomatic weaponry.

Neither of these transports are jokes….

…Or laughing matters…

Depends on your take.

The sky above bears low hanging looming clouds, pregnant with the threat of an onslought of snow ready to (re)birth and the clock is bing pushed with the oncoming storm. Prison Gates slide open with the clearance and on foot and behind the wheel they progress like a military procession to the doors behind gate G.


"Awe, c'mon, you don't gotta be so rough. I'm just a girl."
"We know better. Shut up and walk."
A shove and the bare feet skate across the floor, the loose fitted pale grey pants catching up in feet and the impact of body to floor causes a harsh slap of flesh on concrete and a resounding crack as shoulder impacts the foundation.
The scream is shrill and echoes through the block, a sound that garners inmates attentions. Fingers and hands sliding to bars to grip, slots filled with weary red-veined eyes as they look for the commotion…
"Get her up!"
"Ya broke me. I'm done! That's my bat swingin' arm!"
Another scream and the man who had shoved is flustered, fumbling as she flounders across the floor in a flurry of nearly dred-locked pale hair tipped in a mess of faded red and blue and in her fit one guard comes up grab Harley while the other reaches back for….
A smile cracks wide…

Alarms sound and lights go out while the red rotators illuminate the halls and the inmates begin to bang, jeer, cheer and the whole block begins to shudder.

Loud and clear over the PA a female voice crackles and sings in that Old Gotham accent: "Born free, as free as the wind blows….!! In tandem the doors slide open and the halls fill with inmates.

In Gothams Clocktower, the Arkham alarms triggers alarms of their own. Green eyes snap to the bank of screens in front of her and Oracle sighs. "Not again. First The Joker and now …." show is this causing the mayhem?

It's a work of moments to appropriate the security feeds (audio and visual) - for some reason, Gothams Information Goddess keeps a watch on that place, go figure. With any luck, whoever has that dreadful singing voice will be visible in one of the cameras.

"This is Oracle, we have an incident at Blackgate. Please respond if you can get there." With a small frown, she tries Harpers comm directly "Bluebird, report please."

After an unfortunate dislodging from a really scenic place where she'd been enjoying herself, Miss Canker had been in the mood to get more money. The kind of money you need in order to really live in the proper degree of isolation, especially in the winter. Fortunately, someone (no names were asked or requested) made contact.

Leaping onto the top of the armored vehicle while wrapped up in a big white fluffy blanket (actually grayish, to accomodate for slush) was easy for her. After that it was pretty much a matter of waiting.

Her lip curls as she hears the distorted voice of 'The Funball' (so she was named in the manila folders SHE was given - now long since rotted to anonymous dust). That is the sign and that is all there is to say about that. The snow comforter slides off. Miss Canker slides forwards, laying on her belly. A gun is poking out of the front of the one she's been riding on.

The air grays slightly but it's hard to tell. That particular gun is going to have trouble firing. Miss Canker kicks the snow blanket over, where it will gradually slide off, and drops herself off with athletic ease on the far side, crawling underneath the parked vehicles. Axles rot and tires age alarmingly as she goes. Not all of them, of course - one per car's enough.

Long. Long. Long day at 'work'. Harper's bag was tossed down. Jumpsuit stripped off. Regular 'gear' normal for her slipped on until she nopes up out of the idea of a night time patrol and falls flat upon her face on the bed.

Just when you thought it was safe to get a good couple of Z's. The loud bell rings, which.. was installed for this case when Oracle or whomever else comes calling on the calms, body jumping high into the air. While she wished she'd land into some awesome bat-like ka-ra-tay pose, she landed flat upon her ass and rolled. If the bell didn't wake her up.

That did.

"What. Blackga.."

She sighs and grabs her railgun, swinging it upon her back as well as her helmet and shock-sticks. If she were crude, they'd be -you sticks but there are children present.

Out. In. Out. Didn't matter. She was roaring her way to the Blackgates, careful to tread the streets and only follow the salt lines to not die and kill herself on the way to a job that'll probably get her killed dead. Cause you know, getting a beating at the other job wasn't enough. She might as well pop a wheelie.

"Bluebird in route I guess. Ask one of those jerk-offs to have some coffee on hand since they have the nerve to start shit on a night I need sleep." - Cranky Harper Row. Age 18.

Prison breaks are often not in The Fox's line of work. But they're bad. They're unquestionably bad. So when Gotham's druid hears Oracle's alert go out he checks his elk on the rooftops and taps his communicator. I'm in that area. Need a hand?

He's already moving without waiting for an answer. Oracle or Harper or someone will tell him if they don't and he'll go on about his business but for now…

Well for now the Fox is on the way. Two minutes out.

Fantomex shouldn't be in Gotham. Weapon Plus is in Gotham, which means Fantomex should be in Somalia, or some other safer place. But, as usual, he is not doing what he should do. Instead he is in Blackgate, stealing information from certain old forensic files. What could possibly go wrong with this thievery, prison are made to keep people in, not out?

Of course there is a riot. Only in Gotham.

"Sacre Bleu, in Gotham prison riots come with a soundtrack. I should even be surprised," he murmurs. And somewhere in his head the exasperated E.V.A. is going over how she told him this wasn't a good idea… and getting ignored. The white-clad thief is going to see what is going on.

It is not at all normal for Claire to be in the Blackgate area, but she is there helping with a GPL-sponsored school reading program. Or she was, it just ended for the day. She's stepping out of the building she'd spent the day in with the intention of possibly taking the bus home.

She is completely unaware of a glowing blue elk and its rider approaching frighteningly quickly.

Some people, some people, some people,
Call it insane, yeah they call it insane. /Sugar/!

For now all Oracle sees as the cameras flick on and off are halls, some filled, some empty, and the observation room of bullet proof glass that hangs over the inmates' indoor yard is empty… Save the swinging mic that in wrapped around a guards neck and he is swinging from it, his body already limp and face reddened from failed struggles. But upon his cheek is a red lipsticked SMECK! that smears across from one cheek to another and across his lips in effigy of the Glasgow Smile.

But in halls where prisoners door had opened at first the filling with bodies is slow, unsure, but when their caucophany of threat behind doors had its moment of silence it erupts into something new as bodies crash into flack shields held up by guards now lining up in anti-riot gear, bodies being lifted from upper levels and thrown over railings to the lower levels where front and center a massive man in his prison grays flings a guard by his arm like a ragdoll.

"KILL YOU!!" Anygdala roars amongst the fray.

Outside with Canker the guards manning the trucks begin to even open fire as the gates slam closed behind them, the radios going from frantic yells to some radio (dead) silence.

"What is this shit?"
"Never easy with these primo whack jobs is what it is."
"Naw man the fucking flat tires!"
And just as another begins to sink with Cankers touch two guards approach, one tossing a canister beneath that suddenly hisses and erupts with tear gas.

Harley?: Yanking a hat from a guard she also pickpockets a yo-yo from each pocket. They light up red and blue on descent and rise - this, Oracle can catch as well as a giggle as she puts the unconcious guards hat on and skips down the hall.

Conferencing the comms for Bluebird and Fox, the redhead watches the video feeds on her screen. "Fox, your help is welcome. Not your usual fare, but they'll still be dangerous. Bluebirds enroute as well."

The lipstick on the swinging guard, the giggle … "I suspect we have Harley Quinn to thank for this. And she's released Amygdala." Just another day for Gothams overwatch really. "All prisoners have been released, in fact."

Tapping into the Buildings' management system, Oracle tries to close off the building. Amygdala can yell all he likes … if she can corner him, it might make it easier for the others.

The flicker of one of the camera's shows her Claire, as The Librarian is leaving the building. "Civilian onsite, west exit, heading to her car." She might know Claire, being a fellow Gothamite and about the same age, but she can't make out her features.

All the flailing and screaming outside of her oily, hot-and-cold world of underneath automobiles is pleasant to Miss Canker. Less pleasant is when people start talking, and then something bounces and hisses near her.

Miss Canker knows what that is. She's seen videos of protests.

She twists around and ends up knocking the canister with enthusiasm but little art out towards the far end of the car. Some of it washes near her. She concentrates for a moment; the air around her starts smelling ashen. Her eyes water. Are they actually hurt? she wonders. Am I just freaking out? It's brief, though. Residual thoughts.

She dives out near that tactical team. Normally this would be a great way to get shot, and indeed a gun goes off, hot brass falling on the back of her neck. She gets hands, though, on ankles. Legs give way. A brisk set of pats on the forearm and shoulders, plus some shoving for the slightly larger of the two, and Miss Canker runs away from their screams of bafflement and dismay.

Oracle could see neither guard is dead, but their shootin' arms and one leg apiece seem to have stopped working. Of course, in the chaos, that might just be a delay for things. Either way, figure in black, heading inside —

Miss Canker passes a No Smoking sign, which of course makes her fish a cigarette and a lighter out of the inside of her black hoodie, giving at least some impression of her masked face on security cameras. She doesn't seem to pay attention to them. Heading into the facility, she pauses occasionally, probably listening to the bedlam she's avoiding.

Inwards, deeper, until rounding a corner — suddenly!

Miss Canker looks on the face of Harleen Quinzel. She takes the cigarette out of her mouth before asking her, with complete sobriety, "Are you the Funball?"

Yeah, bring me some goddamned brew, will you? And not that crap that you can get in the corner store in one of those squeeze Wayne bottles. You know, the kind that's good for the body and the enviroment? No. I want the hot black and nasty stuff. Two sugars. With a bendy straw.


Chicks dig bendy straws.

Two minutes? No. Harper was there in an ironically short amount of time. She was going full blast, not really wanting to stop but wanting to get this shit over with because she touched her pillows once and it was glorious.

Imagine if she felt the cool, warm snug of blankets that were tightening around her shoulder to give her the gentlest and fabric softener smelling hug that mom used to never give. With a twist of her hips and a skid of the bike, she immediately hits the kickstand down. Escaped inmates were already cutting holes into the fence which would be Bluebird's point of ingress.

Harley? We got a Christine situation going on? I mean, I'd love to take a ride but I don't think that'd be kosher. 'scuse me.


Not you Johnny five. Them.

Harper was excusin' herself. Tasing 'bros with her taser sticks. And sliding into the fence only to be met by a flock..
..a gaggle..
..a gang?
..Okay, what's the word for at least fifty escaped immates, staring you down, ready to whip your ass because you just dropped one of their side pieces?


The Fox arrives just as Bluebird does, more or less. This is kind of… one of those things. Fortunately he arrives on the rooftops because like many associated with the Bats, that's how he gets around. Just in time to see a whole mess of inmates milling about and causing mayhem. So. This seems awful.

The druid slides off his elk and grabs his shotgun from the side holster where he keeps it. It looks like a sawwed off, simple double barrel affair. It's not.

Bluebird, gonna bring the thunder. Oracle, is there anyone here I particularly need to worry about? Amygdala sounds bad. So does Harley Quinn and that's a name that he knows. At least the queen of plants isn't about.

The Fox takes aim into the crowd and lets fly with a lightning bolt. Right out of the shotgun. Then a second. He pauses to break upon the shotgun and slide two more crystals in. Then he's back at it, going to town like Zeus in a hurricane.

Fantomex sneaks out the storage records room #3 in the basement and tries to get to the guards station in the first floor. Areas usually restricted with no prisoners. Unfortunately this is not usual times. He needs to duck out of the way of a couple of guards in riot gear running towards the commotion ahead.

Worse he thought, so he asks E.V.A. to hack the surveillance system of prison, not knowing Oracle is already there. Oops. Soon enough Oracle security programs are lightening like a Christmas tree as E.V.A. deploys an impressive host of intrusion software, sniffers and codebreakers, none of them the kind human hackers would (or even could) use. Blackgate's firewalls are not going to stand half a minute against that.

Fantomex is not waiting, though, he keeps advancing cautiously when one of the guards, now unarmed and without his helmet, runs back the hallway terrified, chased by three very large men in jumpsuits armed with chains and crowbars. Uh oh.

Claire Fontaine pauses next to her car, looking toward Blackgate worriedly. She can faintly hear the wail of sirens, but where she's at she can't see the prison itself. This is a HORRIBLE place for a school. And apparently, she didn't even notice the great big glowing blue elk that went right past her on the way there. Oh well. Maybe it's just best if she gets away from here as quickly as she can.

The mechanical whine of a jet engine screams through the cloud cover over Gotham. Red and orange illumination casts over a familiar black cowl and firmly set lips. Square target locks appear all across the Batwing's heads-up-display as escaping Blackgate inmates are pinpointed.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.
Batman's thumb brushes up a metal cap and a button is pressed.
Non-lethal but they feel it. The bags hit like bricks wrapped in boxing gloves. If they're lucking nothing serious will break the target locations are all center mass.
"Engage auto-pilot." The Dark Knight's voice is deep and grim as can be expected.
"Auto-pilot engaged" An electronic voice replies.

A hatch pops open and cape extends with a flutter before locking in to place allowing Batman to begin his circling descent. The Batwing itself will remain flying laps around Blackgate Island awaiting further commands.

Amygdala is not the only threat, but he is a large one and he is very much the massive hulk some of the smaller and less brick-shit-housey inmates use as their battering ram. Which he is acting exacty like when a wall of riot geared guards drop into formation of a wall on the other side where Oracle had locked down opposing doors and exits, leaving this area sealed to exit except for the door they came flooding in from.

That's where Harper is when the guards are suddenly thrown through the very small door but en-masse to squeeze/scrape through with the massive force and then explode out like bowling pins. The inmates using him as their aid for exit pause at the sight of Bluebird, but they part like the nile to Noah when Amygdala comes to the front with a guard's head in his meaty hand, the man begging and blubbering
"I got family, my mother…kid…wife's a bitch…kid!"
And like a rampaged gorilla the guard is used as a shaleighleigh to swing at Bluebird.

On the grounds though, those who managed to make it out beyond Oracles backup lockdown are being deterred and a few stricken to dance and wet themselves as lightning coursed by Kane strikes upon them. Gotham Snownadoes are shit like that? But when a blinding white lightning strike pierces an antenna the light that has a white burning glow pierces even that of the yards own floodlights and in it beyond a blink Kane can see.. nothing? The yard is empty, snow is falling, but within the blank palette of white is the bat family, laying in a pile, bound and bleeding surrounded by bodies of inmates and guards alike… Even around his vision it tries to veil outer edges into darkness.

Fantomex on the other hand has inmates on him, and in seeing his garb their broken smiles bely nothing - malicious malignance.
"Looks like we got a doctor.."
"Nono white ninja."
"That shit aint real Twister."
"I believe." And in that moment the world around Fanromex began to lose pressure, much like a brewing storm, but one that begins to rattle even the reinforced and barred windows while the other two raise their improv weapons and get some!

Harley is standing there before Canker, the gum between lips stretched and tongued behind to push it into a bubble as the smile spreads and she tilts her head, inspecting the dark clad woman with a brief flick of overly sparkly eyes backed by a haze. Not enough sedatives.

"I do not know this person you reference. Ma'am!" A tip of the stolen prison guard hat and she swings a yo-yo forward, 'walking-the-dog' as it casts the blinking lights and she passes Canker to head for the massive outbreak and main hall.

"I'm just passing through!" And in a sideways cartwheel the yo-yo is snapped back into grip and she is flipping out the door to stand on the railing overtop the rioting mases, both yo-yo's drawn and swinging in spiralling circles above her head.

"SEX LIGHTS!!!" Harley yells as the red and blue yo-yos spin in effigy overhead like squad car lights above her head.

Pausing she points to the guards. "Cuz your fucked!"
Yes, canker, she's your gal.

But it is not hard to miss the arrival of Batman as prisoners either start retreating back inside, two even going back to their cells and closing the doors after passing by Fantomex and the trio in a pnch-assed haste of rigidness.

Though, Claire, her path is brought to a dead halt when a guard yells out behind her for her to "RU—-!"

When the body hits the floor from the spray of blood from his larnyx the bald man behind him plucks a pen from the guards front pocket. Eyes all on Claire as one sleeve is rolled up slowly, tucked. Rolled. Tally marks littering the flesh and one more being carved in with that glistening writing utensil while he unflinchingly watches her.


"It reads like a Who's Who of criminals, Fox. And no, Bluebird no brew for you yet, get this job done and we'll see about it." Oracle has the inmate schedule up on her screen. "I can rea- What th-" EVA's malware and attacks are clearly seen. "Seems Harley isn't the only one at this party." Now the redhead is really put on her mettle… Provide Overwatch for the team on the ground and try to keep Blackgates systems spiffy.

Hands fly over the consoles, as she bolsters Blackgates systems as best she can. Making it look, to the best of her ability, that the assistance is coming from inside the prison. Not trying to stop the attack, head on, slow it down, make it hard to achieve the objective … with any luck whoever this hacker is - they'll … just give up.

"I'm seeing two more intruders, identities unknown. One in black and one in white… " the locations of both are transmitted to all … three now. "Batman has also arrived." In case, you know, they miss that entrance.

Claires predicament doesn't go unnoticed either and the identity of her tormentor draws a hiss from the redhead "Victor Zsasz, on the civillian… " For now, that's the best she can do.

Miss Canker takes a drag off of her cigarette and exhales with world-weariness as Harley gets her sick moves on. The declaration of sex lights and so on seems, momentarily, like a come on, which make her brow furrow.

But it doesn't seem to be. Doors are slamming and Miss Canker looks up to see a pair of cons stumbling inwards. They look terrified. Canker crushes her cigarette in her fingertips, which seem to make it erode into ash entirely.

"Okay, Funball," Canker tells Harley, "we're going up. Do you know what free running is?" And with that she heads inwards, though the mazelike hallways don't give her the best opportunity to show off what the hey she's talking about.

She explains as she goes. "I'm here to pick you up." She starts jogging during a long straightaway. Ugh, she thinks distantly: is she going to need to get carried? Fuck me running.

Canker explains, and possibly gives Oracle a hint, when she raises her hand and jingles a keychain - with a comical plastic apple on one end, and two keys on the other. The local cameras don't show the labels on them clearly, but Harley could see it. DOOR and ENGINE.

At this point she reaches a cell block and immediately hops up on the railing between the inter-cell walkway and a long drop down onto a bunch of concrete. It doesn't slow her down. "This circles up, right?!" She's raising her voice enough to sound like she cares, but don't worry: /it's all an act/

The downside here is being out in the open, but eh, what harm can that do.

Kane's assistance does not go unnoticed. Bodies were dropping all around her and she did a little dance to avoid the falls.


An arm was flung her way, her head ducking out of the way to shoulder check the inmate hard upon the chest. He staggers back right into a column of thunder and this has Harper straightening up with a shit eating grin and a thumbs up towards the sky.

Just in time for the lights of the chopper to illuminate her form giving her an awesome, all too foreboding, and illuminating like. Did Harper call in the bats? Hell no! But goddamn did she just stroke a pose right in the knic—-


Her head snaps back as a girly inmate throws a punch that makes her stumble, her returning the smack with a punch to his ear that makes him howl out in pain.

"IEEEEE you bish!"
"Don't hit chicks!"


Harper's head snaps up to see Amygdala hollar a roar towards the chopper, a little sniggering sniffle given through the fact of her bleeding nose..

Oh god, guys.. Harper was backing up. Still, she had time for jokes. Get to da choppa! T'ee..hee..

Her laugh cracks out loud, stopping for that moment to clap hands together, the call of Claire's position draws an immediately silence especially as the body is swung in Blue's direction.

She leaps back, hands snapping behind to draw her railgun forward, and as she falls upon the flat of her ass and cocks..

**ZZZOOOT!* A blast of electricity is shot towards the biggun as she gets up and runs like bloody murder towards Claire.

Maybe.. maybe if she pissed the big guy off, she could make him and stabby McGee collide..

As Kane continues to chuck lightning into the crowd something… happens. A flock of ravens, cawing and screeching boils out of the open door and makes right for him, surrounding him in a shrieking, feathery cloud. The druid dives for cover and reaches for his sword but the moment his shoulder touches the rooftop the birds are gone.

Huh?! Oracle can hear the confusion in his voice… and indeed, she wouldn't have seen any reason for him to go to ground. Crap. We have a caster on the field.

Time to get up close and personal. The druid pulls out his seeing crystal just as he hears about Claire in trouble. "Stomper. Go." His elk snorts and leaps off the rooftop, making toward Claire as Harper pulls out the super tazer.

"Now… where are… there you are." The dark woman's aura shows up bright through Kane's crystal and he also leaps, blade coming out of its sheath.

The unfortunate six Blackgate inmates the Batwing's onboard weapon systems downed on arrival are further tormented as those rounded canisters begin to spew gas. A gas that quickly forms in to dense vision smothering fog.

Batman's darkclad self lands center of the obscuring smoke cape discarded and useless now. This model of cape never meant to refold after hardening.
It wasn't exactly necessary with this suit anyways. The 'Capeless' Crusader is more armored than usual.
"Where is Zsasz?" Batman inquires of Oracle while running a quick scan of his own. His visibility isn't hampered by the smoke like those around him. At least those without augmented or specialized ocular capabilities. "What other high priority threats were in that cell block?" Asking the Data Queen was usually faster than his computer systems or waiting on Alfred. Which right now would be a long wait.
Gritting his teeth down the Dark Knight plunges through the open guard tower door in to the prison's insides.
More inmates on the stairwell down.

"It's him, It's the Bat!" One screams before he is knocked senseless with a muffled crunch his body thrown at his cellmates. One by one Batman works his way through the men on the inside staircase.
If Fox came in like Zeus with lightning and thunder this is the entrance of Hades promising only nightmares, pain and long expensive months of physical therapy.

That first man's voice echoing down the stairwell for anyone on the lower floors to hear accompanied with the continued sounds of close quarters fighting.
Also! Another man is now dangling by cord about the ankle (he didn't put himself there).

"BAM! BAM! BAM!" Those shots are to the knees of the three thugs. "Messieurs, I am a thief, not a ninja," he explains politely, leaving the trio crying on the floor. Another two shoots, these breaking the supposedly bulletproof windows, make the pressure drop irrelevant.

Meanwhile E.V.A. runs into unexpected difficulties. «What do you mean the firewall is manned?» Fantomex asks her. «No way they can afford here technicians able to do that, partner. Track the signal down and shut it down, they must be the ones behind the riot.»

And so Oracle suddenly finds the hacker tying to break through the firewalls is also shutting down the metropolitan network, scrambling the local routers routing tables with spoofed addresses and making thousands of Gothamites curse bitterly their ISPs as they lose connection to their online games, webpages and chatrooms.

Meanwhile Fantomex dives for cover, trying to weave some simple illusions around himself to prevent more rioters from finding and attacking him. And that is when he sees Harper. That silly woman. Okay, no hiding, instead he aims his guns towards the goons chasing her. More kneecaps are going to need surgery tomorrow.

Claire Fontaine does indeed run as advised by both the now-dead policeman and the man who just killed him. She lets out a very impressive blood-curdling scream as she's doing so. Because, scary man is scary! And, since she's now running in fear of her life, she misses that Stomper the glowing blue elk is on the way to help.

Come ons? Ain't no one got time for that! Unless you're her Puddin' then she'll make a 'little' time.

None the less her mockery of police squad car lights atop ye olde Caprice in the rearview is enough to spur on more hell by those who know exactly what she means on ground level below - the guards being forced back in a manner that has them flooding back the way they came and into the yard as crackles through the comms open with Oracle's efforts, allowing a moment of communication.

"We have Batman in the yard, get to the $*!!"
"Outside, pick your devils but these are Bats Incorporated *^*0!
"Batman inside, backup of others outside. Lock them in!
"Get out!"

And the guards are flooding back out the doors in a Black Friday like stampede that leaves two trampled and behind, looking up into the faces of those they have held captive from months to years.


Amygdala is in a rage, and the massive beastly man seeing Harper was not enough Batman rubs it in with arrival in a chopper whose blades (to him) sound like laughter as they cut through the air. harpers moves only seek to piss him off moreso and the blade weilding convict is slapped away like a fly as they collide but that does not mean he is not running after her like a buffalo bearing a wounding spear upon his abdomen. Adrenaline is his angel dust as he does not feel a thing, it is not slowing him down…
That is until the gunshots from Fantomex take him at the back of a calf, hamstring him and send him asshole over elbow and leave a gulley as his massive frame slides into 'home base'. OUT!

The men inside that fantomex disabled are dragging themselves into cells and locking the doors behind them. Simple fact about Blackgate and those within. If your wounded this is like the wild. They will pick you off, friend or foe. Your commisarry to blame in its high value.

Kane's illusions are ones that attempt to still press and blacken at his periphery, the sky begins to bear a cylindrical funnel of ravens, but as he seeks her out, seeks to break through the veil formed by Lady Spellbinder one by one they drop like rainfall, the feathered flock hitting the ground and as feathers fly they reform into cockroaches and skitter under rocks and under inmates feet that are still functional enough to bring them toe to toe.

Inside: Harley stops her loops de loops, hearing the announcement crackling from guards' comms and the frown that comes over her face is one that a child would garner when you took away her free time and replaced it with a forced nap time.

Not. On. Schedule.

The yo-yos are drawn back in and dropped into the prison greys pockets as she follows Canker, but then comes to pause when an inmate comes falling down to hang before them, laughing and clapping.
"I've always wanted to go bungee diving too! Let me know how it is when ya wake." A pat to the inmates cheek and she bounces forward to grab Canker by the band of her hoodie and shake her head.
"You me and the keys to the Mystery machine have a date in another direction. The Bats come from above." Reroute! And Harley is almost scaling a wall, bracing herself on a railing and fingers hooked into a light fixture to precariously balance and rip off the vent to an air duct network.
"I prefer rats withut wings." And in she goes.

Outside: Claire's scream only brings a smile to a very blank face, one even devoid of brows and hair that leave it looking ghostly save that grin. Zsasz does not run after her, no. The pen clicks back into place to seal the nib away and tuck it within the neck line of his shirt and then his other hand draws from behind where the guards gun had been tucked away. Walking and firing the bullets are leaving pock marks in the ground and spraying up gravel - herding her direction, unaware of a magical deer. He'd shoot that too.

So E.V.A wants to play dirty. "Digital intrusion detected, Batman, somethings attacking the system and shutting down Gothams grid." E.V.A can try to find her, she's well hidden and her trace is soon going to take her out of Gotham, winging around the world… digitally, good luck with that. At least they've stopped trying to hack the computer - right?

"Mystery Guest in Black is making a break with Harley." At least that's what Oracle has made out as the camera's flicker. "Mystery Guest in White … appears to be assisting Bluebird. Although they identify as a thief." Hopefully Bluebird can handle that.

"Zsasz is at the West exit, Batman. Bluebird moving to intercept. Harley and Guest In Black are diving from the east wall." Yes, Oracles seen the keyring - no she couldn't make out the words on the keys, but she doesn't have to, she just has to watch where Harley and Canker go. Oh yes, she's accessing the onboard security system that most cars are fitted with today, that's going to take a moment to get into the central system.

Miss Canker pivots towards the door leading upwards and lands foot first on the fallen guard (or con? she can't remember, doesn't care) and steps off before The Funball reaches forwards and grabs the hood of her sweatshirt, flipping it back. Her hair, in all its black and messy glory, spills out, though her fancy purple mask doesn't. She looks towards Harley —

As she reveals the truth.

"The Batman? He's HERE?" Miss Canker says, looking towards that suddenly somehow far more forboding doorway. It's enough that she feels shock for a moment. Cold. Disruption. For a moment everything feels huge and terrifying. She probably just kicked a hardened killer in the belly.


"None of it matters," Miss Canker mutters to herself. She pulls her hood back up and turns to follow after Harley, leaping up and grasping firmly onto a light fixture with fluid ease, hoisting her entire bodyweight up with one arm throughout the concrete roughage. When she reaches the vent, Canker catches up fully.

"It's not like I care," she says, "but —" She twists into the air ducts.

"He drinks their blood when he catches them, right? Not all of it, obviously," Canker's voice says, echoing in the metal tubes. "But enough."

The shots were fired, it hard Harper nearly stopping, yet wisely turning with a pivot to watch as the big man falls. Well, better him than her. And from what she could tell he was still breathing, just hurt.


Harper continues to run at breakneck speed, her hand actively reaching up to smack her hand hard against her ear.

Johnny Five.. so-.. Someone in white?

Wait, I remember that guy, that guy in white! I don't know if he's friendly or not but I'd kiss that moda.. HOLD UP!

Rail gun was tossed aside, her fingers clenched into fists, her chest was starting to hurt, her lungs reaching her limit as her hands strike out to grab the proverbial bull by the horns. But that bull? It was Kane's creation, and she was using it to break her speed into faster motions and to give her body a clear upswing of feet first..

..that momentum was rough and tumble enough to the point that when her feet were aimed towards Zsasz's back she lets herself gooo…

Bluebird has achieved new heights. She's about to reach a new civilization if she makes that connection of one hundred pounds soaking wet against the killers back. This.. this was going to hurt.

The Elk doesn't seem to mind being grabbed by the horns. Indeed it has only one thing on its mind. Reach Claire and get her clear. That's all the aid Kane can send at the moment. As he hits the ground the viel ruptures and he hones in on the other magus. Well, he tries. Some of the inmates are getting in his way. He can see armor-Bat not far from him but right now the sword bearing druid is literally cutting his way (in more or less non lethal fashion, just don't push him) through the inmates that dare get in his way toward the dark clad woman who wields magic. If she was in Blackgate she needs to go back into Blackgate. He's aware he's on the clock though. She could cut and run at any time and right now he's not in a position to stop her.

Unless she decides to stand and fight.

The firewall goes down. This might surprise Oracle, but E.V.A. is no mere human hacker, she is a technorganic creature able to multitask far better than most humans. On the other hand, she is failing to track down Oracle's signal, since the Gotham networks are too much her territory.

And the access to Blackgate's system reveal a wealth of information to Fantomex. Including Batman's presence, a man he would rather avoid. Also the fastest way out, which he immediately takes. Au revoir.

Still unaware of Stomper's rapid approach, Claire keeps running away from creepy scary man. And him shooting at her isn't making anything better. In fact, now there are random pieces of paper flying at her from all directions and surrounding her like a windless mini-tornado. She's not consciously controlling it but hopefully it'll be enough to make shooting at her more of a challenge.

The stairwell is cleared. The armor encased vigilante stands amongst a pile of inmates only to kneel down and pull a badly injured Blackgate guardsman up over one shoulder and another is drawn up beside him. The man's arm draped across so Batman can support his walk. A grunt and a whir sound indicates the leg brace of his armor is activated, aiding him past the injuries he suffered during David Cain's attack on the Cave and the added weight of carrying two extra.
"Lets get you both out of here."

"Oracle. See if you can tag Harley and her companion with the Batwing. I am not in a position to stop them I need to get these men to safety for medical attention. Situation with Zsasz?" A civilian in the mix concerns him and Harper is still a rookie. She may not be enough to deal with the serial killer. Then again the young woman is full of surprises. Fox may very well be near them as well.

"He..what?" Crawling through the vent is more like a military belly crawl, but when she stops she rolls to the side and peers at Canker with red-smeared lips pursed and brows dipped in a perplexed manner. Then she laughs. A maniacal cackle that has her haste returning to crawl through the vents system.
"I have never considered him to be a relative of a Tepes, but it all makes some sense now."
"No it doesn't." A rapid headshake at that and she is paused at a large grate where a massive fan slowly spins, flickering the outside floodlight spill into broken reveal upon them. It almost seems in the way Harley's head spins with the rotation she is mesmerised by it, hypnotized in the timing of every passing blade until..!
A hand bursts forward, grabs a blade and pulls in opposing direction, enough so the motor begins to grind and whine although her palms begin to split and bleed in the resistance.
"Let's just say he's never tried to drink my blood. Just spill it a little."
Canker, you're up!
"Let's blow this popsicle stand. It's infested." Nosewrinkle.


Kane's path is made as he cuts through convicts left standing, heading for the pool of cockroaches and decaying fallen ravens that rot in a fashion of fast forward, even taking decay from the fallen bodies of inmates that fell in Kanes path, winding their way towards the 'dark woman' that is waiting for him, going from black to pale in appearance, hair pink, half shaven into a mohawk, sunglasses stolen from a guards body perched upon her nose. She does not move, not even her lips as the voices begin to flood in, starting with coming from the lips of a building pile of bodies that converges in Kanes way.
"At lassstt…" The one voice of a fallen woman inmate hisses from cracked lips.
"Found him.."
"We did…"
"Keep him…"
"We will."
"Carry his soul to the sky within the beak of our ravens."
"Start with the eyes!"

And in that instant Lady Spellbinder's hand rises and Kane's vision is being sought after to go black with the envisionment instilled in his mind by her own powers.
Either he fights it or he doesn't. If he does and regans sight he will do so in time to see it is all a vision save the woman with the pink hair making her attempted retreat, but none the less those hissing voices borne on whispers and moans still seek to remain in the back of his mind.


harper's surprise attack only make Zsasz take a one-two step forward - a slight stagger at her added weight that does nothing more to effect him. But he does whirl around and uses his thrown weight to gain a hold of Harper's ankle and hoist her upward in a manner akin to a wrestler. Hanging her like a hunted beast ready for the skinning rack and dropping her down upon neck and shoulders to render her unconcious.
All done in a fluidity and ease while regaining balance enough to sqint through the fray of papers surrounding Claire and… Is that a glowing elk? Browless ridge forms to shadow that empty cool gaze and he fires, an aim for the center of Claire's back between shoulders.
No words.


Inside the inmates have either sealed themselves back within cells or lay broken, bleeding. One man seeking to pick up his teeth with broken fingers (because they were gold!), some moaning and cradling broken limbs, or dragging them behind them.
The guard slung over his shoulder had lost conciousness, the one using Batman as a crutch is missing two fingers and using his belt to tighten around his forearm and keep the bloodflow down while he looks at Batman in a manner so he can see him with his good eye. The other swollen shut in a Quasimodo fashion.
"Thank you."

Sensing E.V.A's removal from the fight, Oracle turns her attention back the rest. "Zsasz is engaged with Bluebird, she's doing well. The civilian isn't out of the woods yet. Fox has sent Stomper to assist."

Now she's watching for Harley and Canker to appear … "Tapping the Batwings systems, Batman." Yes, she'll tag them.

"Fox, what do you need to fight that one?" She's not unaware of The Fox's battle … perhaps she can lend a hand there as well.

Canker keeps crawling forwards. The south end of a northbound Harley fills much of her vision whether she likes it or not. And then they come to a grate. Harley seems momentarily dazed, and Miss Canker herself looks around for something to climb over when -

Harley does it herself.

In a silent moment, Miss Canker gains a newfound respect for what had previously been a mere warm body capable of some degree of independent motion. When Harley showed she could climb a wall, she proved she was a /trained/ warm body. When she cuts open her hands to stop a fan, she proves she understands.

"Fuck," she says aloud. "Hold on." She reaches forwards, grunting with some annoyance when she ends up with passing body contact with Harley. Her hands go over the other woman's, which gets blood everywhere. She didn't put on gloves, or lost them if she did. (Forensic examinations later will find traces of skin oil, disintegrated into smearing rancid traces instead of fingerprints.)

"Maybe he only does it to the ones he hates," Miss Canker guesses. Harley gets to feel /something/ pass near her hand, but it just makes her fingers momentarily numb. The fan's motor is not so lucky, rapidly dying. A little cinching and that fan blade snaps, shedding rust particles which were not there a couple of minutes ago. Canker throws it back into the vent.

"Do you think he'll be waiting for us?" Canker asks, but it's an academic question now. From there she heads down. It's warmer that way, anyway.

The solid thud of her feet against Zsasz back was met with.. nothing. She bounced back, falling clear upon the ground in a slight daze that had her momentarily dizzy.

Wait no. She was about to be suplexed. Or weirdly thrown. Harper couldn't place it but she was upside down. Guys. I'm totally dea-.. She screeches out, arms immediately raising to shield herself from what would become a neck breaking moment..


And then silence on her end. The com trickles and rolls out of her ear, the only sound of ruffling and muffledness heard and a scream that pierces through the night that would make the ultra feminine howl of Vitas impressed.

Du hast mich en fraggen!

Now, while Harper wasn't the best fighter or the best vigilante; the little chick sure can scrap. She also carries her own brand of justice that only a child of the concrete jungle could provide.

Two -sticks to the crotch. Jammed right up against his jimmy and lit with the fiery fury of hell. Just like no one would put baby in the corner, no ones going to drop Bluebird on the head and get away with your dangily bits unscathed..

And through the wailing scream that probably came from Zsasz, a slew of words could be heard.

You-punk-muther-fucker-how-dare-you-oh-shit-its-smo.. WOW MAN I AM SO SORRY!


Cue Harper's foot trying to put the fire out.

Kane's vision goes blurry and for a moment he's somewhere else. The scene of a gristly murder. A murder of twelve people in fact. Twelve people he knows.

When he snaps back it's only been about ten seconds but that's more than long enough for him to have lost the dark woman. She's away, in the wind. He'll have to find her later. He can't find her now because the last few Blackgate inmates in his immediate area have decided to use him for target practice. His blade flashes, drawing one across the gut and hacking into another's shoulder. The third just… backs away. Yeah that's right.

Stomper runs right to Claire, not minding the Bluebird momentarily on then off him. He lowers his head and literally flips the librarian onto his back.

And bolts. Let the others fight crime. The elk is doing what elks do best.

Claire Fontaine lets out another, shorter scream, this one more a sound of surprise. And then she's on the elk's back with an 'oof!' and reflexively hanging on as the glowing blue creature bolts away faster than anything non-mechanical has any right to move.

"You kiddin'? In G block there are too many other concerns." Harley's fingers tick down and an index finger taps her lower lip bearing smeared lipstick.

"Five hundred and sixty four to be exact. Them Bats and they're friends. Their kinky. Thrill is in the chase." A click and pop of her gum in the chew and she winks at Canker just before sliding past her and dropping to the ground, using a fleeing inmate as a landing pad.
A giggle and a bounce and she is back on her feet to stand before a staggering guard who was facing off with said inmate, holding his bleeding arm in hand while it coats his sidearm in blood. A mad scramble ensues to try and trigger his radio and cover his fallen partner who is aiming a gun upward at them both.
Harley's hands go up, and locked in place beneath thumbs is the yo-yo's.
"So, which do those keys go to?" And slowly her smile is returning.
"Wanna go for a ride boys?"
"You're not going anywhere Harleen."
A tap upon chin and then a point from Canker to the guards. "Now that one has some Fun-balls."

And the one with the gun is left for Canker to handle as in a sudden forward lunge like a underhand pitch Harley is stepping forward and a yo-yo lashes outto nail guard 1 in the eye and have him stagger back while the other yo-yo wraps around his neck several times in momentum only to stop and smack him in the other eye before flopping on his chest, a sudden jerk drgging him to land face first in the gravel.
The one on the ground fires a round at Canker and attempts to roll away and to his feet, though one is missing a shoe.


The involuntary noise that left Szasz's mouth wrought by Bluebirds -sticks ended as soon as smoke started to rise, thankfully unconcious by the time the stomping started to out the fire that is sure to leave more scars. But he will not mind. Every one that marks him gives him purpose.
…especially since he is watching this from the doorway, going back into the darkness of a rioting Blackgate with Lady Spellbinder at his side. Where she bears a smile fit for Hollywood and a haircut suiting of Seattle, his stare is empty. Placid.
A vision they all saw and felt and as he watched Gotham's heroes he had never met before, his thumb traces over the supressor of the pen and clicks the tip back out and then back in before the door to the prison slams closed.


The smoke was gone. There was nothing really left but the trail of the blue elk that whisked the civilian away to safety. There was a stagger, a hand drawn up to rub a little at the back of her neck, a foot nearly placed forward and.. oh.. there they were.

A bend and a grab of the earbud, a quick lift and it was stuck back into her ear again… man.. this shit was the pits.

Okay.. guys..

She begins to walk, though.. she was doing some weird zigzag thing and her lip was trembling. A look down towards her arm which seemed rather weird. Hah. Guys? Guys. I think my head broke my arm! She sounded.. happy! A stop against the tree had her shoulder pressing against it, her body hunkering down as she takes in a slight breath and…


*Smacksmack* I j.. I just frew up.. *smack* I.. yeah nap over there princess and beans like peppers and corns with violin..HRUUGHGHGH! Yeah I'm tired.

And.. that was pretty much all she wrote. Not the -best- look for Bluebird, but at least she didn't fall out in her own vomit! Hoo-ray!

It's time to get out. It really is. The Fox knows his usual ride is out of here so he bolts on foot. There's only so much he can do here after all and he's not sticking around to answer questions for the cops.

Claire Fontaine has no idea how far the elk has carried her, but when he finally slows to something less then a full sprint, she dares to sit up and look around and reach into her bag to try and get at her cellphone without dropping it. Though… who does she feel she can call about THIS?

Miss Canker drops down and bounces off the same inmate as Harley, weighing over what the other woman said. That's a lot of people the Bat's locked up along with his palls, if she's understanding the words correct.

Then she looks up. "Hmm," she says, flatly. She steps forwards.

The gun goes off. Miss Canker jerks as her hooded sweatshirt does the same. A hot line of pain up along her side. Her jaw tightens as she gingerly puts a hand there. It's brief. She doesn't like the reflex. Did it go into anything? Past her?

It doesn't matter, she tells herself. The pain eases off.

"You can shoot me again if you want," Canker tells the rolling man missing a shoe. "I don't care. Maybe you'll get a prize for killing someone and then in twenty or thirty or forty or fifty years you'll end up dead. Your family will be sad and then they'll all die too. The prize goes a while after that. Depends if it's metal or just a piece of paper."

SOMETHING emanates off her as she says this, something wearying, fatiguing. The man sags. When Canker gets close enough she reaches down and grabs up on his arms again, which may baffle Harley (and also gets some of Harley's blood on him, possibly causing confusion later). He spasms and drops the gun, and sags. Breathing weakly, if still breathing.

Miss Canker straightens up.

She points then. "That one," she tells Harley. It looks just like the other one, except - and this is a key difference - it doesn't have rotted-out tires. "Can you drive? I'm kind of shot."

The prison guards are brought out to the landing where those first men had been struck down. Batman eases them to the ground and looks over the grounds surveying what damage has been inflicted upon Blackgate. Contained for the most part aside from the escapees.
The man with the missing fingers will require immediate aid and Batman is going to see him quickly and safely to the ER after a quick status check of his own people. The other man is slightly better off than the first. A call is placed to his location.
"I need to get this man to a doctor he has lost a lot of blood. I'll do a fast sweep from the Batwing and then you're all on your own for clean up and tracking. If possible at this point."

The yo-yo leashed guard is tetherd to the back bumper of the picked vehicle, a pat given to his head as bare feet barely covered by the oversized cuffs ofpants scoot happily along the ground.
Hands reach and span towards the night sky that now finally releases that build of snow in large white flakes, spinning she comes to the passenger side and is face to face with Canker. The blinking makes it seem like she was oblivious to anything that had happened in her moment of freedom basking.
"Might be able to get ya to help if things that touch you don't end up in the same shape." A flippant twirl of hair with the tilt of her head towards the guard she left fallen before she heads back around and gets in, starting it up and revving the engine.
Eyes fall to the wound Canker sports and then her veiled face with the smile returning, a small bounce upon the seat. "Kind of."
Like her wound. Reassuring!

Transport Truck 2:

The back doors to the truck hang open, inside there is nothing but walls painted in red; like candle wax drippings blood trickles downward and left front and center upon the floor straddled by transport benches is a heart with a card folded before it reading: "When love is not madness, it is not love."

Happy Valentines.

~Calendar Man.

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