2014.01.26 - Tunnel Troubles

Gotham can be a dangerous part of town these days. For most of the shady sorts this has always been true, though for individuals that tiptoe a line of solid grey it's usually not too problematic until they drop themselves onto the wrong couple of radars.
In this, Domino's not been very lucky.
After the freighter incident in the harbor she's made a point of keeping clear of the borough as a whole whenever possible, which turns out to not be the easiest thing to do since she's been living in a long forgotten network of tunnels way beneath the surface -right- on that Gotham line. When she's lucky she manages to avoid electronic detection, though the moment that X-gene takes a break she's likely to get picked up very quickly. There's only one other face on the planet that looks anything like hers and it's being kept completely off of the radar several states away.
For this merc, it's only a matter of time.
Staying off Oracle's radar is an impressive feat. With the Dark Knight on her trail, the skies themselves are against Domino-- it's likely only by virtue of other priorities that she got away clean in the spectre of the Hand's onslaught, though with her luck.. who's to say?
Once her hiding place is narrowed down to that network of aging tunnels, however.. finding the merc is relatively elementary: there aren't that many other living, breathing humans down that way, and Domino is fairly distinct from Gotham's indigents.
"No man, I'm tellin' you. It was an alien probe." One ragged homeless man wearing a nice, heavy coat offers with a degree of urgency to his compatriot. "Down here?" The other hobo scoffs. "What, you blow it out your ass?"
As clues go that something is amiss, it's not much. The all but silent stealth drone the haggard man happened to glimpse hovers and weaves from shadowed corner to shadowed corner, scouting out the network with swift and subtle grace. It's even harder to say where the device's operator may be; for the moment.
It's always good to have several hidey holes littered about one's primary area of operation. Gotham's no different. Heck, it's got lots of places where someone like Domino can run to, so long as she plans on never leaving any of these places again. Her primary spot, one actually shared by two others and shielded by tech that's literally not of this century, is not where she retreats to. She knows better than to bring trouble back to their base of operations.
Besides, Oracle's already aware of it. Bloody hackers.
Now, subway tunnels that date back a century or two are fair game to one and all. They're easier to get to, much more accessible, and provide fairly direct routes all over the place. She still knows better than to squander her time. A pool of brackish water splashes out from around a combat boot as she jogs through the barely illuminated tunnels, the grimy old yellow lights overhead only working one time out of every eight bulbs. Another homeless woman is cleared by a jump, prompting her to sit up from the worn cardboard mat in confusion, complaining after the sound of rapidly fading footsteps.
Not far now. Dom's just about out of the red zone. She should be safe down here, she could probably just walk the rest of the way, but why risk it? She's wanted in too many places by too many people. This happens to be one of those rare situations where she's legitimately concerned. The Bats stand a chance of taking her down. With their numbers and resources, such as the completely missed spy drones, all she's got left is speed and luck.
Anticipation of Domino's intention to vacate Gotham City asap means that while she's running out of the Bat's organized grid, she's actually charging right into and through a more specialized net. The drones, the swarms of bats that initially spotted her thanks to the signature of her armor... alongside a few surprises in the rail and waterways bordering Gotham, should she break for that perimeter.
It's difficult to say just what numbers they've come in, whether dozens or none at all, when that little drone overtakes its quarry and starts strobing the tunnel with tiny bats of brilliant, blinding light projected hither and yon, the little sphere darting to and fro to make it all but impossible for Domino to keep an angle where her eyes were -not- being assailed by numerous custom projectors. Unfortunately, looking up to find out what the hell is going on is even more disorienting.
The Dark Knight calmly waits, standing cloaked in his cape amidst shadows cast by flickering maintenance lighting, positioned such that if the exfiltrating merc continues to favor speed and chooses to sprint past that harassing drone... she's liable to crash headlong into his armored frame.
It's entirely possible that the albino's slightly jumpy. Unlike flashbangs, there is no bang. There's also no -ping!- or -thunk- forwarning such an ambush. She's simply blinded. Out of nowhere.
Metal automatically clears Kydex in an equally brisk flash, one of Domino's arms coming up in defense as the other sweeps out at length and flings a balanced matte-black dagger toward the offending drone, reflexes guiding the blade true to its intended destination of one of those blasted drones. An identical blade sits within her other palm, kept ready even if she cannot yet see.
She would have rather used a gun, but why further hinder herself by adding the bang that so often accompanies the flash?
As much as continuing to run, running faster than before, seems like the thing to do, she knows enough about how these vigilantes work to know that would be a bad idea. She'll just swear under her breath and try to wait it out.
Stop. Listen. Wait. One of them is near, but she's not out of the fight yet.
It's a one in a million throw, the dagger glancing sharply off the attitude control of the tiny, spherical craft and sending it shuddering from side to side trying to correct its flight as the tunnel's limited altitude is sharply lost. The downside? That bang Domino mentioned, it comes as she's hunkering down listening for the Bat, as that miniature spy drone skids off a stony wall.
The sonic attack is sharp and focused in a tight radius around the crashing device, brought down conveniently all but on top of the mercenary. It pulses thrice with ear-splitting tones in three different frequencies; pain, vertigo, and a temporary -very- irritating tone in one's ears are all likely results.
The damnable little gadget-- or perhaps something else-- has also spewn voluminous clouds of roiling grey smoke all through the tunnel, quickly building up to the point where it's more blinding than a flash in one's eyes. A moment would pass in deceptive peace, followed by a stern "Put the weapons /down/."
The not-so-polite request comes from somewhere towards the edge of that gathering cloud. Sadly, even without an assault on Domino's senses, the projected tones would be coming from the opposite tunnel the Bat actually occupies.
Gadgets... They're fantastic, when they're on your side. These ones are -so- not on Dom's side, which means she absolutely hates the mechanical bastards. It's more than flashing lights, now the wounded (and ticked off?) drone's hammering at a whole collection of her senses in one go. Her meta ability has -nothing- on this stuff.
The drone which nearly falls on top of her also nearly gets tackled to the floor with that second blade finding itself embedded within the machine's metal housing. Almost. If she didn't feel like such crap thanks to all of those projected frequencies then she'd really be in the mood to take her frustration out on the first thing she lays her hands on. Until then, she'll just hang tight in a crouch with her hands pressed over her ears, because -ouch!-
Then, finally, there's the voice. If this had been any other situation, disarming would be the last thought on her mind. Instead, it's merely an absolute cluster. Take her chances and shoot front, back, top and center? This isn't the enemy. Not -yet.- She's not on a job, he's not standing in the way of a contract. He's not even kicking her to the ground. He's -talking.- That really is saying something.
She takes her chances, the blade rolling off the tip of an index finger until it clatters to the ancient cement.
"You could have just called me if you wanted to chat," she 'helpfully' suggests while bringing herself upright. Blind or not, she's not about to kneel before this man in a mask.
"We both know that isn't true." This time, it's somewhere above her, in the fog. Then, off to the opposite flank. "A bombing in the park. A scuttled freighter. Crucial evidence related to bioterrorism sunk into the Harbor." It certainly raises his recovery overhead, he's just sayin'.
Each ominously disapproving observation comes from a different point in the fog, like echoes without a source, and it's not hard to conclude that it would be -impossible- for the Dark Knight to be flitting about her so completely yet silently. "Working out the way you planned?" Dour sarcasm drips and threatens to flood the abandoned subway tunnels, though the Caped Crusader remains somewhere, lost in the unnatural mist.
"Even if you make it out of Gotham..." seemingly random tendrils of fog continue to speak in Batman's voice, striving to turn the merc about time and again in the fog until she's completely lost orientation; if indeed it's not already far too late for that. "There's nowhere you can hide from me." The confident threat to any further operations Domino might intend is clear.
Not quite as clear is the unspoken push for explanation, but why else would he be bothering to talk to her instead of flooding the tunnel with gas or otherwise playing it safe?
"Oh come on, give me a -little- credit. I still answer my phone," Domino counters while standing her ground. Listening. With how dark these tunnels are it's going to take a little longer for her vision to return to a useful level. Not that listening is helping her all that much, the guy always did love to throw his voice around. Kinda like his ego. Everywhere and nowhere at once.
"Now hold up a second, the bombing in the park was -all- Castle's doing. We just got caught in the crossfire. I didn't use a single charge back there."
Working out the way she planned? Here she rolls her shoulders. "Hasn't gotten me killed yet." (Also scored me serious mad cash for scuttling that freighter, thanks for asking.)
"Yeah, you and all of the other hero types," she calls back with a frown, carefully turning from one direction to the next. Is there a pattern to the Bat's voice? Any logical progression from one location to the next? Hell, she could just fire at random and see what happens. That usually works out pretty well for her.
"The difference is that you're focused on Gotham. Maybe you'll know where I am, maybe even what I'm up to, but you're not known for leaving your nest. You've got much bigger problems threatening your home than little ol' me. Go check my record, how many -innocent- people have I gotten killed around here?"
"I'm not known for being seen abroad." The Batman concedes; or is that a retort? There's a certain drily smug note that almost leans towards the latter. "But if you're telling yourself every drowned crewman on that freighter had it coming, you're delusional." As far as her security in relativity? "Smaller problems are easier to tear out at the root." The Dark Knight simply, ominously observes.
"There's always another way." The appendation has the tone of finality more than afterthought, and in the swirling fog that devours already minimal light, only silence lingers. By all appearances, the Bat simply decides to let her leave.
Naturally, the nanite transponders dispersed in the fog, programmed to passively conceal themselves in a living being's tissue and blood, might prompt Batman's disagreement with that assessment.
Right. Message received. Maybe he's not known for working outside of the borough but that doesn't mean Dom should write off the possibility completely. Still! Hell, she's a wanted person on so many systems across the globe. If she wanted to ever be 'safe' she'd have to move to one of the planet's poles and dig so deep that she's digging up frozen oil reserves.
Not gonna happen.
Okay, so -maybe- some of the crew weren't in on the deal. Maybe. It's been known to happen. It's not like she ran a criminal record on the crane operator before she put a thirty caliber bullet through his temples, either. "What you call delusional, I call looking at the bigger picture."
Always another way. "Yeah, but I hate working in an office environment," she sarcastically calls back. To empty air, apparently. No more fog. No more ominous voice from the dark.
Cool. She's going to take her lost blades and get the hell out of this tunnel. If he's going to leave her be then she's done running around down in this mess. The homeless can keep their hole in the mud.
Category:Log