Super Awesome Ninja Party

January 04, 2019:

After the horrible events that went down during a botched thieving against Sionis, Lena runs into two very unexpected allies. Oh, and there are ninjas.

Gotham City

Characters

NPCs: None.

Mentions:

Plot:

Mood Music: [*\# None.]


Fade In…

*

Ninjas aren't suppose to be real. Well, they were, but now were things of movies and stories, Hollywood magic. Why the /hell/ where they real, too? The heist at some side house owned by Sionis was a bust. Loud amateurs made it impossible and then NINJAS! The events of the evening were not fun. Cold was completely 'funned out'. Her walk was testiment to that, slow and dragging as she clamps down on her upper arm. The puff of her sleeve was hacked into, once blue and now crimson, droplets rolling off her finger tips and leaving a trail.

Finding an alley to pause in, she growls and rests against her back, only then realizing that a shuriken was still lodged into the plating on her chest (under her jacket) and one in her throat. "Shit…" Her eyes roll behind her visors as her boots dig into the filth and muck of the passage as her mind starts racing. No safe house, no allies. Maybe running solo wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

*

Deathstroke watches the woman disappear into the alleyway from a nearby rooftop, his eye narrowing a little behind his mask. He turns to glance back down the way she came, checking Lena's backtrail from his vantage point. He hates this city. There's always a Bat somewhere when you don't want them, and never one when you do. Which is never in his case.

He's pretty sure this is the theif, given the fiasco he found at the target location and the trail he followed. What the fuck Ares wants with a gem like this anyone's guess, but so long as he wants it Slade is bound and determined to make sure he /doesn't/ get it. Idly, he wonders if the Hand's involvement is incidental, or if they're errand boys for the god of war.

*

The Red Hood was out and about as well this evening, having far less exciting adventures than Lena while on a routine stake out of a drug den. The dull background of the city noise almost lulls him to sleep. In a somewhat bored manner, he sweeps his binoculars over the alleys and catches sight of the young woman's staggering form disappearing from sight.

"Really?" Jason says, pulling the binoculars down and tucking them away. "Cliche, thy name is Gotham city." He takes off in her direction, jumping from roof to roof to get closer to the bleeding figure.

*

Breathe and count, think. Think…Her eyes flutter back from her slender visors, they were starting to annoy her. She couldn't shake them free due to the thing in her neck, and she couldn't claw them away for fear of letting go of her top most wound on her arm. She had two slashes there, forearm and upper and only so many hands to deal with it. She glances toward her side bag, the triangular shaped gun on her thigh. It sizzles and pops in places, the light at its front fading. "Great. Busted, to." She laments in an apathetic tone. Count, think. Who's in this trashheap that she can pay off to fix this. The girl had a brain for machines, science, but not medicine.

*

Cliche indeed. Slade lets out a slow breath as he spots the tell tale flicker of a form hopping roof to roof with trained ease that puts them mostly in shadows as they do it. No cape. So… Grayson perhaps? Hrm. That could be interesting. Beneath his mask he almost smirks. It's been years since he worked with Grayson, and … not so long since he worked against him. This'll save him the trouble of having to be heroic and save the girl. Plus she'll appreciate it more. Slade's not great with tender loving care.

He does decide to change his possition however, get a better angle on the alleyway, the approaching figure he assumes is at /least/ one of the bats, and on the woman's backtrail. Time to relocate.

*

Red Hood misses Slade however, as he moves to the top of the roof next to Lena's position. His eye lenses zoom in on her momentarily to check out her wounds and follow her trail back. "Oh that doesn't look too bad," He says to himself. "Except for you know…all the blood." He begins to descend quietly, moving down the fire escape above her.

*

Lena loved this city, and she hated it, too. It felt…homey for someone like her. Crime running rampant even if the shadows were threatening to eat you alive. Something was off. She wasn't alone, but that sensation could be kicked off by a number of things. Right now, she was a wounded animal backed up into a corner - survival is all you got. No score, busted weapon, and now her bloody hand gropes into her bag and pulls out what looks to be a glass like sphere, its contents azure and silver, swirling about fluidly. "I know you're out there," she begins, forcing herself off the wall, pivoting and shifting so that her back was to the deadend and her eyes were forward toward the mouth of the passage. "Show yourself. Piss off. Either way, I'm not in the mood and you'll be in for one cold reception."

*

She did not just make a cold pun. Yes. Yes she did. Gotham. Rogues. Sigh. He's just glad she didn't make 3 in a row, Deathstroke supposes that's a small mercy. He lets his hand rest lightly on teh butt of the collapsed power lance resting on his thigh as he props a foot up on the edge of the roof and leans slightly over it, peering down at the-huh. Not Grayson. It's the second one, the annoying one that was always a little to brash to cover up a little to much damage. Slade can relate. He was that way once. He's heard interesting things about his sudden and unexpected return but hasn't crossed paths with the new Red Hood. This simple job is growing more and more intriguing as the night wears on.

*

Red Hood stops moving down at the fire escape, his intrigued and amused facial expression hidden by the Red mask over his face. He remains unseen from Lena, but pulls a flashbang from his belt. "Okay Ms. Freeze, you have two choices," He says, his voice sounding robotic as hit echos through the alley. "Either you can put your toy away and let me come down there to put a bandaid on your boo boo, or I'll knock you out and do it anyway leaving you with the Gotham PD."

*

"Christ, another one?" She glares out at the darkness, orb in hand even if her grip is loose. Her thumb, however, settles on its switch. "What? The Bat can't handle his own shithole so he has to have other mooks run around and do it for him?" Smirking, her dark lips quirk upward, pressing a dimple into her cheek. The orb rolls in her fingers, the motion enough to cause her to twitch from the drill of pain it sends through her. "Listen, Witness Protection. One, it's /Captain/, thank you. Two, you don't offer help and then feed a girl to the cops. It's rude."

*

Deathstroke just rolls his eye in his mask, listening to the two. This is not the time for banter. What are they? Twelve? The Hand is a legitimate threat, and these two, at least one of whom knows the identity of her enemy, are argueing over… what? It's-He stops, tilts his head. He saw something move. He plays back the portion of his memory in his head like a replay button, seeing more clearly what was just from the corner of his eye. Well. Shit.

WHOOMP! Gray Gotham winter snow splaters as Deathstroke the Terminator lands in the alleyway only a couple feet from Lena's boots, the impact well beyond the point of stealth. "You two children can flirt some other day, we have company. Two Hand contingents a block and a half away and closing, they're following your trail." He tosses a small aresol like can to Lena, "Biofoam, spray directly into the wound." he then turns to look straight up into the darkness as if he can see Jason's precise location, "And you should know better then this." then back down to the girl, "Get up, we have to get out of this alley, it favor's the Hand's tactics." Apparently he's just… handing out orders now?

*

Red Hood is about to pull the pin on the flashbang when Deathstroke makes his entrance. "That's what I get for being neighborly, I suppose," he grumbles, turning to climb back up the fire escape. He moves upwards in shadow and quiet, being extra careful not to give his location away to anyone, Slade or the girl.

Jason makes it to the roof, but stays looming over the edge just out of sight and keeping an eye on the two down on the ground level.

*

"I'm starting to hate this city." She decides, turning her head ever so slightly against the dig of the blade still sticking out of it. She eyes Slade, blinking behind her visor. "The hell is the Hand?" Apparently, she didn't know what her enemy was, at least by organizational standards. Catching the can, she eyes it and sighs, her breath not catching or creating a puff of white against the chilly air. Slowly, she digs at her jacket, peeling it away and exposing her bare arms and minimal torso armor underneith. Her hair falls free, but the silver of her eye wear stays in place. Grenade away, the gashes are on display, evidence of someone who tried blocking a bladed weapon with their arm. She shakes, sprays and growls all the while as it pushes at the tender flesh, filling them up.

Another huff, she fingers at the thing in her throat and exhales, yanking it free and patching it up after its initial spurt and dribble. "Thanks for the warning, Janus, you boys have fun with your 'Hands', I'm out of here."

*

Deathstroke sighs and walks over to Lena and with a deft motion clips something to the shoulder portion of her armor, "You have something I need to keep safe. So you get to join us. Enjoy the ride, try not to clench up." he says evenly before there's a puff of air sound, a soft hiss of cable, then Lena is suddenly jerked upwards. Jason will recognize the sound, though how Deathstroke got ahold of a Bat style grapple gun is anyone's guess. "Incoming Boy Wonder!" he calls upwards before turning to look at the mouth of the alley.

He drops a pair of small spheres and then begins to leap/climb the fire escape in a manner that borders physically impossible, using it as half spring board and half gymnastic bars, one story to the next. Below him, the alley begins to fill with a thick fog, quickly obscureing everything on the ground level. "Two contingents," he says his boots landing on the roof only moments after Lena reached the peak of her acent, "means fifty murderous ninjas trained extensively in team work tactics." he pulls a custom style machine pistol from his hip and an English style bastard sword from his back, "Run or fight. What say you two?"

*

Red Hood is there to catch Lena as she rockets upward. In a petulant manner, he unclips and pockets the grapple just to spite Slade. "Haven't been called that in a lifetime," He chuckles under the mask to his own inside joke. He lets Lena go behind him, giving her a full look for once and not being bathed in shadow.

Jason glances back into the alleyway to follow Deathstroke's ascent. The Hood pulls one pistol, making sure one is in the chamber in ready. "My choice would be to show them who own's Gotham," Jason says with a grumble, as Slade arms himself. "But seeing as there is one injured person and an old man, I say descresion is the better part of valor."

*

"What are you-" there's no finish to the sentence, except that of a scream as she rips up and yanks into the sky. She does tense up, briefly, her legs and arms dangling doll like in the air. Caught, set down, she looks at her reflection cast against the red of the former bird's mask. Then Slade joins the party. Usually, it was within her person to cut and run, but the 'run' part was detered by the fact that she was now on a rooftop and enemies were on their way. Five was a lot, now that's multiplied by ten?

"I'm not useless." She tells Hood, unlatching the gun from her thigh and starting to twist it apart. Claiming its core, she eyes it over and nods. The light inside glows, something is still working at least. With raw core and orb in hand, she nods. "Survive," she says.

*

Deathstroke would deadpan but his mask has no real facial expression, "Old man and still your better, brings into question what sort of work ethic you possess." he says, glancing back the way they came, "You get the injured party, hero. I'll take rear guard." there's a faint click as the saftey falls off of the machine pistol, "Don't slow down, don't stop, get her someplace you can defend or that's safe. I'll … keep up." If one were jaded enough, one may think that his tone was almost anticipatory.

*

"If I wanted to be talked down to, I'd go visit Nightwing," Jason says, giving one more look at Slade. "You let them scratch you at all, and I will make sure you never hear the end of it." He turns back to Captain Cold. "Captain Icicle, I am assuming your legs still work. So, start running." Jason grabs for Lena's unhurt arm and takes off, doing a combination of dragging and pushing to keep her going and leading her where he needs her to go.

*

"Cold!" She corrects as she's pulled away and off, clutching at her gun's core, it already building frost and threatening to flash freeze and shatter the covering on her hands. Taking a moment to roll the sphere back Slade's way, she calls back. "Just press the button and throw." Should the pair keep to rooftops, it's finding that ledge that gives her pause. She wasn't a Batkid, she wasn't skilled in acrobatics, and the fear of falling causes her body to jerk and resist in the Hood's grip. Gritting her teeth she levels the core and fires off a brilliant display of white and cyan light. The cold from it is unfettered, dusting her air with frost and creating a small falling of snow around their area. She couldn't jump, but she could slide with some confidence. Making bridges, she glides, still following after the Hood.

*

"Do what I do," Slade quips Jason's direction, "sneak into his place and occasionally paint his bike pink." that's only half true. He's more of an orange kinda guy.

Deathstroke plucks the sphere off the ground and moves to follow the other two, though much more slowly, "Always wanted one of these." he mutters, sliding the sword away so he can keep a firm grip on the superweapon. The instant he sees movement, his gun backs and a ninja vanishes into the night, disappearing from the ledge. Then second shot. And a third. Then they're swarming over the root towards him like ants, a red wave of glinting blades and blood colored outfits. The pistol ceases to bark single shots and becomes staccato bursts instead.

*

Red Hood makes his own parting shots as well, firing at Ninjas who manage to get into his periphery. "Keep running, Commdore Snowstorm!" He calls, trying to push Lena onward. "You've spilled enough blood on my streets without my permission." He turns midjump to fire a short trio of shots into the horde following them. Jason slides on the ice like he's in some sort of action film. "Slade, I just loosen his spark plugs, or put sugar in his gas tank. Less to have to cart with me." He rolls back to his feet and makes a sudden turn, dragging Lena in his direction.

*

"I hate this city." She decides once Hood, on purpose, gets her name wrong. She glides and slides about, twisting and turning now that this was the name of the game. Slipping around with Jason was almost like a dance, a tug here, a lead there, all they were missing were actual iceskates. But of course, that would be silly.
"I just got away from him." She comments on the topic. "Him. Batman. Slackers." She creates more paths, the chill rolling up her arm and turning it to a soft blue hue, crystals starting to form and spike from her glove, upper sleeve cuff and a few stray sweeps of her partially dyed hair. Slade - she heard that name before at least, glancing back Deathstroke's way briefly.

*

Deathstroke doesn't go around shouting the hero's ID's to the world, he'd appreciate it if they extended the same curtosy. It's not like most of them have families to protect… or have gotten his kids killed. Oh. Wait. He snarls slightly as he drops the spent gun and in a single motion draws the sword and cuts a lunging ninja cleanly in half, it's torso tumbling down the space between two buildings while it's legs slide on one of the ice bridges as if they didn't know they were now alone. "Watch your mouth!" That was not happy Deathstroke tone.

As they near a small bottleneck where the roof they take passes them between a pair of much taller buildings, Deathstroke slows his pace, letting the other two get ahead while allowing the ninjas to close the distance, his sword flashing in bluring arcs, batting spikes and thrown stars from the air, causing them to spin out into the shadows as he moves inhumanly fast to avoid the majority of the strikes. "Catch." he says as they begin to bear down on him, and he tosses the triggered weapon into the chest of the nearest ninja before bunching his legs and leaping backward as hard as he can, launching himself towards the far building as the weapon pops, sending sheets of cryogenic cold sweeping outward.

*

Red Hood rolls into a handspring and up again, firing another salvo into the group of Ninjas. Deathstroke might note the shots aimed are hitting joints and knocking people down. While there would be considerable blood, there are no kill shots. Also a person flying Batman colors and using high powered guns? Not really normal.

"Bats probably just let you go for abit, Lieutenant Freezy-britches," Jason quips. "He doesn't let any really get away. Ask me how I know." He makes another turn, almost pulling Lena into a pirouette.

*

"I count victories where they are. Don't cheapen it by being a smartass." Lena declares, twisting and turning as they continue making their way. With Slade letting one orb fly, Lena offers up two more, each going to their sides and release a ploom of frozen death to guard their sides. Jason was going for wounds and take downs, Lena was more in the Deathstroke school of kill before you're killed.

After forming another bridge, she slips backward and aims at the flashes of red and blades in the air. Coating one completely until they fall, left to shatter on the concrete below. "Core is getting hot. I can't keep doing this." She admits, the flowering of frost already stretching up the side of her neck and onto her face.

*

Deathstroke is not like Red Hood. He's not like Batman either. Every bullet he fired did not hit a limb. It hit a face. Right in the nose or an eye, occasionally as high as a forehead. Jason may leave wounded behind, Slade does not. He leaves a trail of corpses in his wake. Now that he's out of ammo and the sword is out, the real carnage may soon begin. With the walls of ice in place, Slade makes double time to catch up to the pair, leaping a couple of distances olympiads couldn't make, and once taking a three story drop with nothing more then a quiet shoulder roll that he finished off with a hurled knife that took a flying ninja right out of the air.

He comes to a sliding halt next to the other two letting them get their first good look at the assassin. He's a veritable pin cushion of stars and spikes, a pair of long and distressingly deep gashes lay across his side where some preternaturally sharp blade found a crease in the Promethium scale armor and opened him up. The black of the armor and the night help to hide the blood well. He eyes them, then what follows behind, "By my count we've collectively taken out thiry-one. That leaves nineteen." he then reaches up to absently yank a throwing star from the joint of his shoulder armor and toss it away contemptuously, "I can handle the rest." he shoots Lena a look, "You make sure that bauble doesn't end up in their hands or I will find you and explain exactly how disappointed that would make me." he then shoots a look Hoods way and pauses, a scathing retort on his lips… instead he just offers a nod and a grunt. Jason knows what to do, he was trained to be a hero. Slade was trained to be something else. The nod and grunt is /almost/ like approval from the old soldier. Almost. "Go." he says simply, turning back to face the remaining ninja, one hand pulling out the power lance from his hip and letting it snap out to it's full length, both of it's ends suddenly glowing with a white energy that trails glittering smoke into the night sky.

*

Red Hood nods back to the mercenary, understanding what he means in that moment. Woe to the Hand tonight, apparently.

"Captain, you ready for another ride?" Jason says to Lena with a edge of humor in his voice. "Not that you really have a choice in the matter." He pulls out a grapple of his own. "Don't get blood on the jacket." He chides, firing it up and away as he attempts to scoop her up and away from the scene while Deathstroke provides a rather tempting distraction to the Hand itself.

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