Bane on the Loose!

March 09, 2017:

Bane attacks a Yakuza boss in his penthouse apartment.



NPCs: None.



Mood Music: [*\# None.]

Fade In…

The police were closing in on Sanji the Scorpion. The Yakuza fence was in his penthouse at the top of a glitzy apartment tower in Chinatown, with several hired private investigators he's brought on as his bodyguards. He's a short man, even by ethnic Okinawan standards, wearing a white sharkskin suit and missing a digit of his right pinky due to yuribitsume. A jeweler's knot is hanging around his neck, designating him as a member of the stonecutter's guild in Gotham, and he's well known as a Yakuza fixer, fence, and scrounger. But it's all about to come tumbling apart for him. Three hours ago, his son flipped on his father in interrogation after being arrested for methamphetamine possession, a vice that Sanji had repeatedly warned his son about. Shabu was not for a fence's son to sell, or even hold, the fence was far too important. In Sanji's mind, even more than his rolodex, existed secrets that could destroy the allied families of Gotham for months, and dig deep into their criminal network. And, thanks to a tip from a station deputy with a green ear and long fingers, the Gotham Families knew.

A taxi pulled up outside the apartment building, a station wagon with yellow paint and a clear gold blinker atop it for heavy traffic. A pair of boots climbed out, one after the other, the tab rising off the ground a notch. A wad of bills was tossed behind the passenger, before the door shut with a perfunctory heavy slam of a man that knew what he wanted in life.

Bane looked up at the tower, frowning beneath his mask.

Across the street from the apartment Skyrise that the taxi had just pulled up to, is a small unassuming bookstore. This store was the kind of place that the average citizen of Gotham just walked right past and paid little to no heed to what-so-ever. But Lara Croft wasn't a Gotham native, nor was she that terribly familar with the city at all. What she WAS though was someone hunting for a very specific book… and her internet searches had lead her to this store.

Just inside the store's main window, Lara stood at the counter, speaking to the owner who was eager to have someone to talk to, let alone a nice young lady like Miss Croft. The aging man was talking her ear off in-fact, about how he'd had that book in his posession for nearly fourty years and he never thought anyone would ever come after it… as such, he'd probably charged her a bit more than she'd wanted to pay, but she had to have it. So she paid.

Excusing herself now, Lara was exiting the bookstore, holding the large leather bound tome beneath her left arm.

The orange eye of a cat glints in the shadow of a restaurant nearby as Lara exits. Resting in the darkness between buildings and up a fire escape, an inky black silhouette is watching the comings and goings across the street. She's been hiding there for some time now, waiting and observing, following a lead of her own towards Sanji. She even brought dinner.

With her facemask down around her chin, the ninja's currently gobbling down kung pao chicken with a fork. Her eyes squint curiously as the luchador unburdens his taxi of its load. That's not a sight seen ever day, even in Gotham.

Bane is wearing his typical garb, plus a brown trenchcoat made of thick polyester rolled up at the sleeves, for the cold. For he is of the jungles of Central America, in his origins, and he favors the comfort of the sun and not the bite of the dry wind. He extends his right hand and pushes open one of the paired doors of the tower, shrugging past the door to his left with a lazy but purposeful sidle. The doorman of the apartment sees him enter, and quietly backs away, the luchador mask with red eyes and the tubes extending from his left forearm and into the back of his head enough to give him pause. The muscle and the quiet, serene, hateful confidence? Absolute terror. The doorman remains frozen where he is, Bane extending a finger of his right hand as he stands just beside the doorman, not even looking at him, as the elevator ticks down floors. Behind Bane, someone mutters into a walkie talkie. Bane merely stands there, staring upwards at the lights behind the numbers.

"We've got a spanner in the works, sir!" one of the private investigators, smoking a cigarette, says to Sanji and the other three rentacops as he steps into the living room of the penthouse, from the impromptu command center where the computer and extra ammunition is.

"Shit!" says another investigator, and they all scramble to their feet from their positions around the penthouse. Sanji begins shaking, his hands and forearms moving up and down as the old man clenches his hands into fists, sitting in his seat. His quivering hand reaches into his pocket and withdraws a black kerchief with the kanji for 'lover' on it, wiping it on his bald head as he breathes slowly and surely, nostrils flaring as he stares forward at a handgun on the marble living room table before him. The four bodyguards load street legal semiautomatics with plastic triggers, preparing for war.

Lara's black jeep was parked across the street at a meter that she'd loaded with spare pocket change. The young archaeologist walked to the cross-walk, using her free hand to lift her grey hood up to conceal her face since it was cold tonight. It would take awhile to drive back to her apartment in Greenwich Village, so she was mulling over the idea of grabbing dinner here in Gotham before leaving.

Completely unaware of anything going on in that huge and fancy apartment complex that her Jeep was parked outside of, Lara made her way toward her vehicle but paused when a pair of homeless vagrants approached her with their hands out, hoping to score some money from the woman in the black leather jacket. Lara regretably didn't have any cash on her, so she was doing that awkward dance of trying to separate herself from them while feeling guilty for not giving them any money.

Emptying her to-go bowl of its last flecks of spicy sauce, the ninja stuffs it inside her jacket and rises on stiff joints to find a better perch, her sandals moving silently across the metal grates. Pausing as she sees the pair down below, she frowns before pulling up her mask again. Then she pulls her slitted eyes away and produces a cheap telescope from an inner pocket, aiming it at the apartment's windows.

The elevator reaches its destination, and there's a *PING* as the door slides open smoothly. The doorman stares down at Bane's hand, as a single, crisp twenty dollar bill, folded in half, is extended between his index and middle fingers, palm turned forward. Bane is looking down at the doorman, frowning, wordless.

A moment later, Bane is in the elevator, the doors closed, and he's carefully removing his trenchcoat as the elevator begins to ascend upwards.

There's a hail of sirens outside the apartment, as Gotham City police hit their sirens to warn local civilians of an impending crisis, and to ward away traffic. But they were already on their way here before Bane's arrival. They are here to bring the Scorpion into custody, not to battle the monstrosity that freed every lunatic in Arkham Asylum, just to break the back of one hero, for his own secretive purposes. To Gotham City, Bane is a tornado, as senseless and mercurial as the weather itself, but also possessive of the strange reasoning the tornado displays deep in its own order.

Two private investigators move outside the door to the penthouse, Glocks drawn. Inside, one locks the door, as the other one looks down at the Scorpion. "It's only one guy, sir. Big guy, but it's just a human." The PI smiles. "Is that per diem calculated for all of us at once, if there are fewer than four survivors?"

Sanji's face sinks into his hands, as he begins to whimper.

Lara reached her black Jeep and opened the passenger side door with the jingly sound of keys. A second later and she was putting that rather large, old looking, book into the seat. ITs then that the hail of Police Sirens catch her attention and she looks up and in their direction.

She watched the vehicles arrive in large numbers and a big show of force, it was impressive… if worrisome. Lara closed the door of her vehicle and put her keys back into the side pocket of her black leather jacket. She reached up to drop her hood back and pulled out her SHIELD badge, intending to find an Officer, flash the badge to and inquire as to the nature of what was going on here.

Sirens. And that's the ninja's cue to get scarce. Sneaking further back from the street, she lays herself flat, sacrificing a good view for security. Sirens in Gotham are hardly a rare sound but where they stop, things generally got interesting…

Still peering through her telescope, she keeps it trained on the window now showing a glimpse of two men and a desk.

The police cruisers move to surround the entry to the building, with an SUV following carrying a state police detective and a single black cruiser carrying the FBI special agent in charge of Gotham City. The detective moves to field the question from Croft, as a police tactical sergeant moves to lead a team inside, through the same doors Bane had entered.

"Hanbu Sanji is wanted for receiving stolen property, conspiracy to commit grand larceny, and questioning related to several acts of conspiracy to commit fraud, among other crimes," the detective explains to Lara, trying to look professional despite the SHIELD badge. "We're here to bring him in and flip him to take down an entire ring of thieves in the Yamaguchi-guchi. Feds want him too, probably Interpol eventually as well." There's a wrenching scream of metal, then a hail of gunshots from up above, the detective's hard craning about as the FBI agent looks up suddenly getting on an ear piece.

Bane has ripped one of the elevator doors off with his bare hands, with just a bit of leverage from the base of the elevator and a slide into a domino fall, before yanking it out of its position with a screech. Charging forward, both bodyguards shout and back away from the door, firing their handguns desperately at the incoming rush of flat metal with the surging force of nature behind it.

One private investigator puts his back to the locked door, sweating and shaking, as the other one points his gun at the first. "Get away from the door, Dave! Cut the shit!"

Sanji begins to shake and sob, pulling his handgun off the table and nervously flipping the safety off. He's never fired a gun in his life. It feels odd in his grip, because of his pinky.

Lara may not be the most important SHIELD agent, but the badge pretty fun to own so far in her short time with the agency. Sure, she just worked for the WAND division was an 'acquisitions agent' … but most who saw the badge just assumed she was as cool of an agent as Natasha Romanoff, and they spilled the beans or let her pass (whatever the case may be).

When the gunfire started, like many others on the street, Lara looked up to the floor high above. "It sounds like someone has already gotten to him." She dryly stated in her thick British accented voice. "I sure hope there's no civilians up there." But it was probably a floor owned entirely by this horrible criminal…

The ninja jumps at the first howl of gunfire from up above then smiles quietly under her facemask. Pulling her gaze from the telescope for a moment, she double-checks that her escape route is clear of police cars before turning her attention back to the apartment building. Dinner and a show, how lucky…

"What the hell does that?" a cop asks the detective, listening to the sounds coming from above.

The FBI agent talks into his his earpiece, an microphone emerging forward from the side of his ear, as he presses his finger down on it to speak. "Helicopter, we need a police surveillence helicopter and a SWAT team. Get the Commissioner on the line, there's a monster truck rally going on up there."

The detective looks at Lara, tense as hell, as cops stream into the lobby of the skyrise. "There's plenty of them in the building, not up that high, though, that's just the Scorpion's penthouse," the detective says, as he moves away from Croft to get to his car radio and begin speaking into it, ordering a hostage negotiator and a power engineer officer on station with the police operator grid as a precautionary measure.

"RRAAARGH!" comes a roar from Bane, echoing from his lower stomach and up through his chest and out his mouth, as he twists from the left and to the right, hurling the bent door at both guards. It slams into them and knocks them off their feet, and he continues running, jumping over the door and one of them, moving to the one farther away. He reaches down with his left hand and grabs the bodyguard by his shirt, lifting him to the air and swinging him around into a door frame that leads into a vestibule for the washroom. It smashes his head inwards and a scream is cut off by a crunch, and Bane drops him to the ground. Breathing slowly, he turns about, looking at the remaining guard, who is dazed on the ground near the broken elevator door, crawling towards Bane, to get to the pistol lying on the ground.

Lara's deep brown eyes looked to the Officer, she listened to him and gently nodded her head. There wasn't much she could offer in this situation that the professional far better trained for this scenario weren't already ontop of. Idly though, her eyes scanned around the rooftops surrounding the building… she'd been told many times how Gotham was just as infamous for its caped crusaders as it was for its psychotic crimianls… but on the skyline of the buildings she saw no sign of any such caped heroes.

Lara's smart phone was pulled from her jacket pocket then and she turned to walk back toward her vehicle, while texting her superior to inform her of what was going on here. <Sounds like an elephant is loose in a Criminal's penthouse in Gotham. Lots of GCPD on-scene. The stories about this city appear to be true.> She'd send away on the wings of modern texting technology.

Police officers storm up the stairs of the building, rushing up ten stories to get to the two story penthouse atop the building. These aren't duty patrol police, or even investigators, these are hardass, well disciplined, fit troopers that specialize in situations like this, although they've been jarred from the expected standoff capture into a situation with what appears to be Killer Croc. Already they're getting ready to use their tasers.

Bane looks down at the frightened Pinkerton, as the man's hand clutches his gun. And then, Bane's foot calmly presses down on his hand, heels on the fingertips as his toe presses onto the wrist, sole on the knuckles, crushing his hand into his gun. The glorified henchman screams and cries in agony, as the gun is crushed beneath his hand, and his hand is permanently and forever mangled beneath Bane's boot. Bane lifts his boot, and steps around the sobbing bodyguard, moving to the door. He reaches to his left wrist, slowly turning a knob on his Venom control bracer.

"DAVE! GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!" comes a scream from the private investigator over Sanji's shoulder, pointing the gun at the door with both hands. The bodyguard squeezes his eyes shut, shaking and gritting his teeth, pushing his back against the door as if this will save him. Sanji slowly rises to his feet, sure of purpose now, and moves to Dave, guiding him away from the door and pointing to the stash room, with the computer. Sanji looks to the door now, uneasily pointing his gun at the door and backing away.

Lara had waited for a response from Melinda May, which hadn't taken long… she was simply ordered to stay out of it, which didn't surprise Lara at all. However. She was also told to observe from afar and report what she witnessed afterward, so thats precisely what the Archaeologist was doing. She had her badge around her neck now by an extendable nylon cord and it laid against her chest while she leaned back against her Jeep and watched the police take to action on this rather chaotic situation unfolding all around her.

It might be for the best that sound doesn't carry as well as light down from the penthouse and through the window glass. With only a partial view of what's going on, the ninja outside is left to fill in the missing pieces with her imagination as the black mask moves ominously across the lens of her telescope. She smiles a little bit more, noting the man no longer by his desk.

There's a distant beating of chopper blades as a police helicopter approaches, the SWAT van following close behind, on the tail of the eye in the sky and parting through traffic with a sedan in front and a pair of motorcycle cops on either side, sirens blaring from all such and sundry. The police troopers near the top floor, pausing at the top of the building to take a training mandatory breather to catch their lung before they go in. There's brief chatter as they determine the nature of the situation, passing a riot gun from behind to the front to use on the individual, to pop him off his feet so they can more easily assess the situation in a safe manner. It already sounds like one man is in deep trouble, the man with the broken hand. They quickly chat down a plan, discussing things in GCPD situational command lingo.

Bane flicks a switch, and a red activator chemical is pumped through one of the tubes out of his gauntlet, into the harness atop his back. He hulks forward, closing his eyes, as green Venom is pumped into him. He sucks in air, his lungs expanding beyond their healthy expansion as he takes in a massive amount of oxygen in his over-ailerating lungs, his heart pumping the O2 to the rest of his body. Pituatary chemicals pump his body into a low level second puberty, causing him to sweat and surge with focus and aggression, as his adrenaline spikes through the roof and his eyes snap open, time becoming a variable constant in terms of his decision making. He stands up to his full height, muscles surging as they strain outwards and veins stand out on his body, as he reaches out for the wall around the door, at the top two corners. He shoves his fingers into the drywall around the frame, and drags them downwards in a fast stroke, smashing the door's support and causing an explosion of plaster inside the apartment and outside, before he kicks the door down. Sanji and the private investigator are blinded and go into coughing fits, as the door sails for the PI and knocks him off his feet.

Bane surges forward, directly at Sanji. Sanji screams, as Bane grabs him by the throat with his right hand and lifts him off his feet, his arm like a rhinocerus' charging horn goring a man into the air.

Lara pushed off of her vehicle at the sound of an approaching helicopter. She looked up into the sky to see its lights flashing and contrasting against the night time backdrop. She looked down again then to see those two homeless men who'd hit her up for money trying to sneak past the police to go get into the building… This caused her to frown and she moved toward them to confront them and hopefully keep them from making this strange situation any worse. Naturally the two started talking her up more, playing light on this whole situation… blaming all of this on Arkham and how Arkham was purposefully filling the city with psycho criminals.

A muffled grumbling echoes from across the street as the ninja lowers her telescope and shies away from the searchlight that sweeps overhead before landing upon the apartment building. The helicopter's rotor wash ruffles the thick canvas of her black disguise but by the time any light sweeps back to her hiding place, the ninja is gone, sneaking back towards the seclusion of her alleyway and its oft-overlooked storm drain.

Sanji is pinned against a wall, his gun falling from his hand as he grips Bane's wrist and kicks and chokes, eyes squeezed shut. Bane looks up at him, holding the grip on his neck, ticking down the moments in his head it will take the Scorpion to expire of asphyxiation.

From behind Bane, the cowardly Pinkerton storms out of the computer room, bracing his gun in both hands. He shoots Bane's back with a quick, poorly aimed, panic shot, the gun bucking backwards and recoiling up in his twin hands. Bane grunts and stumbles, turning over his shoulder in his Venom-induced rage and swinging Sanji across the room at Dave, the little Yakuza smashing horizontally into the private investigator and knocking them both into a tumble, then a sofa.

Cops bustle down the hallway with the riot gun at the fore of the line, a shotgun directly behind it. Bane turns to hear them, and then flicks the another switch on his bracer. As he walks towards the window, blue neutralization agent pumps into him, and the Venom turns sickly yellow as the brief, mild shot cuts out. Bane exhales briefly, resting, as the cops swing around the corner and point weapons at him. He raises his leg up, then boots it out, kicking out a plate glass window. It sales to the ground, towards the street below, Lara Croft among those threatened by the falling chunks of jagged, thick glass. Cops scream and scatter from the mess, as a local camera crew assigned to a nearby news van tapes the footage.

Bane looks over his shoulder, before he jumps up and to the side, grabbing a railing above the window and hefting himself rapidly onto the roof, like a giant climbing wolf spider made of human flesh, until he is atop the roof of the building.

The police helicopter shines its light on him, as the wind pushes past him, Bane's sweat and the biting air chilling him to the bone. He does not show his discomfort.

The two homeless guys are happy to talk with the pretty SHIELD Agent about their wild crackpot theories about whats going on inside the building and Lara is just pleased to keep them from trying to interfere, but when the shouting starts, she's about to look up to see the incoming glass when she sees hands sweeping at her and the Hobos to get out of the way! Lara acts and she shoves the two smelly garbage dwellers away and jumps toward cover beneath the the awning of a near-by metal bus stop bench!

Bane breaks into a run across the rooftop, leaping off the twelfth story, towards his planned egress. He sails through the air, his legs bicycling slowly through the sky to keep his motion steady, before he lands on an eight story building across an alley behind the residential tower. There's a loud grunt as he slams into the gravel garden rooftop, landing into a smooth one knee crouch, his knuckles slamming into the ground as he bends forward. It hurts more than it should, thanks to that gunshot wound trapped in his flesh. He slowly rises, the helicopter talking to him and shouting vagueries about surrendering. He leaps up again, and smashes through a skylight leading into an art storage outlet, disappearing into a building.

Sanji rolls onto his stomach from the experience, gasping for air, seeing cops everywhere. The police begin securing the area, happy to have seen Bane and survived.

Across the street from the highrise, a cop eats a donut, watching. "Out of French cruellers. This city is madness."


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