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thejusticelounge2014-03-27 03:13 pm
bossymarmalade) wrote in thejusticelounge2014-03-27 03:13 pm
Entry tags:
the night that you planned to go clear
The rooftops were different.
Well, of course they were, Ollie chided himself as he swung down over the side of a building, feet hitting the railing of a fire escape only long enough to propel him across the thirty-foot drop of the alleyway to catch the ladder of the building opposite. The climate here was different, wasn’t it? You’d need different roofs. When he’d lived in Seattle, after all, it had taken some time to get accustomed to designs meant to weather all that rainfall, not like the warm California climates.
The fleeing figure of his quarry was making her way over these East Coast rooftops with a fleetness that Ollie couldn’t match, but he had some significant gains on her: he had almost twenty years’ worth of parkour ability, stamina like a cart horse, and a long-range weapon that he happened to be *insanely* skilled with. As Ollie ran after her, long legs eating up the distance easily and taking the width of another jump, following her down along the top floor ledge of this building and around up the side, he couldn’t help grinning. This felt *good*. It felt good in a way he hadn’t felt for months, cold wind whistling past his ears as he gave chase and his body twisting and bunching and reaching the ways he wanted it to.
Skell, the dealer he was currently hound-dogging, made a wild jump across another alley gap onto the facade of an abandoned department store, scrambling along that narrower ledge before she dived into a tall broken-open window into the darkness within. Ollie paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow over his mask. An electric blue flare a few rooftops to the east caught his attention, and he grinned wider, figuring that Manhunter must have caught her own prey. Green Arrow looked back at his own chase, the high window yawning open. “Must think she’s dealing with a podunk amateur,” he muttered to himself, before unslinging his bow and nocking up an arrow.
To be totally honest, though, a few months ago he wouldn’t be able to go in like this — take a running leap across the gap, tucking into a tight roll as he came in high through the window and bullets whizzed past him when the woman was forced to adjust her shots. She’d been aiming lower and if he’d been his usual fighting weight, she would’ve plugged him instead of narrowly missing; as it was, Green Arrow managed to land and somersault, barely coming up out of his crouch before he fired at her in response.
"Don’t struggle," he instructed her, unfurling to his full height, squaring his shoulders. Broad and muscle-heavy enough to have misled her about his total body mass, and good thing at that. "That thing’s electrified. Gift from a friend, you might know him? About yea high, pointy ears, voice like Tom Waits after a week of chainsmoking Camels? C’mon, I’m sure you know ‘im. Famous ‘round these parts, so I hear."
"You know that much, you know he’ll be mad as fuck that you’re pissing in his pool," Skell spat, pinned immobile under the heavy net. Ollie leaned down to pick up her Glock and disassembled it in a few swift motions. The electric blue flashes were getting closer. The archer smiled, feral, and tossed the pieces of the gun to the ground.
"Oh, don’t worry about that," he said. "The *real* bad cop’s gonna be here in just a second." As if on cue, Ollie heard Kate land inside the abandoned store and laughed, spreading his arms to gesture at their surroundings. “Manhunter!” he greeted her. “Skell here says — welcome to Gotham City.”
As it happened, Manhunter had left Skell’s second-in-command—she hadn’t really caught his name, something like Ronnie?—passed out and somewhat the worse for wear from staff zapping, neatly trussed up for GCPD to pick up, and with just enough of the secondary product (oxy) to convict him for intent to sell. If his location happened to be on top of a roof in the late summer smog, so be it; she’d email them a tip in later.
Or a Bat would find him. She wasn’t really bothered either way.
The chase for their main quarry had meant that she’d had enough time to tie Lenny, Ronnie, whomever, up, pocket the product she and GA were looking for, then trail behind on cover duty. She’d watched Ollie shoot, from her perch on the ventilation shafts (because that sight never got old, made her mouth…not just her mouth…water), before neatly and tidily hitting her mark.
As for Skell’s assertions regarding Batman? They were fairly accurate, which meant she was relatively astute, and hopefully meant she’d be useful instead of a waste of their time.
"Gee," Manhunter said, landing, then striding forward, staff under one arm. "Kind of a shitty welcome wagon, GA. I don’t see any gift basket. I was hoping for one of those kitschy shaped cheeses to take home to LA. Think they come in bat shapes here?"
Skell sneered at the approaching figure. “What, you gotta feed your litter on Gotham welfare, chola bitch?” she retorted.
Seeing as the dealer couldn’t move anything but her mouth, Manhunter’d figured it was pretty much a given that she’d go there, but that didn’t mean she had to like it, and her staff was up, primed, and just shy of Skell’s head before the last word was out.
"Sweetie," she said, calmly, and flicked the packet of Double Smile from Donnie/Ronnie/Lenny into her free hand. "You’re the one who’s gonna need welfare to put food on the table, seeing as we’ve got your meal ticket. Let’s talk like grownups now, and I won’t have to rewire your nervous system before we’re done."
"Besides," Ollie added with unseemly mirth, "Manhunter here’s gone and married a billionaire, or haven’t you heard? She’s got no worries when it comes to feeding her litter." He flashed a wide, insolent grin at his wife, adding a broad wink for good measure, and then leaned against one of the peeling paint walls and folded his arms. He had a good view of the rooftop approach from his position and no other members of the gang would be able to sneak up on them while Kate was doing her interrogation thing. Plus, he knew from many years of shaking down suspects, the whole casual ease with the possibility of blindingly brutal force thing tended to make people skittish and talky.
Skell wasn’t one of the more savvy dealers of the product for nothing, though. “What makes you think I’m scared enough of you two shitheads that I’m gonna roll over just like that?” she spat, starting to wriggle under the heavy netting. “Superhero fucks never kill anybody. Druglords do.”
Ollie pursed his mouth and drew in a breath. “Oooooh,” he said. “I’m gonna let you field that one, Manhunter.”
"You’re just jealous I get to go to all the swank parties, Arrow," Manhunter replied, because keeping up the banter was part of the game, and it really would be stupid to give away too much about their…uh, out of cape partnership with flirting, thank you Oliver. “Beyoncé says hi to your skinny white ass, sorry I forgot to tell you.”
She turned back to Skell, considering her latest comment with a very bright and very dark smile. “Aw, she’s so cute, isn’t she? Used to the Bats, though…I never thought Gotham City would make this kind of trash soft—”
With a flick of her wrist, she used the end of her staff to lift up Skell’s jaw a little, between the webbing, business end now right against her throat. “But you might not have heard over here that I play West Coast offense, sweetie. Hardball. I don’t really do the whole catch and release thing if I’ve got a fish on the line.” And I mix all my sports metaphors. “So you tell us what we want to know, or we’ll be really pissed off that you wasted our time. I mean, shit, you know how many missed calls GA’s got since we’ve been out here?”
The fact that Skell’s boss was trigger happy—more than just that, but likely a sadist, if Kate was following the body language right—was not a good sign. Not shocking, but it meant this would be a big pain in the ass to resolve.
Despite her boasts, Skell seemed to be rattled a little more by the feeling of Manhunter’s staff — warm and crackling with pulses of blue energy — under her jaw. She swallowed hard, gaze darting between the two costumed heroes. “You aren’t from Gotham,” she said, a slightly imploring whine colouring her tone. “You don’t know what it’s like here. There ain’t no second chances, not with the underworld that runs things in this town. Or with the Bat.” She noticed Green Arrow grimacing at that comment and took it as his doubting her statement, because she hurriedly elaborated, “The Bat doesn’t mess around with this shit! That’s why the Gotham bosses have to be even MORE hardcore when it comes to keeping their people in line. You getting what I’m saying?”
"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Ollie answered, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was moving away from the wall that had been propping him up, eyes sharpened and peering into the growing darkness outside, tenseness through his muscles. "Something catch your attention, GA?" Kate asked, and he could hear the alert in her voice even though to Skell it would still carry the same casual threat that Manhunter’d been employing moments earlier.
Ollie gave a grunt and a sniff, then fired three arrows out the window in rapidfire succession, following them out and returning hauling a terrified teenaged boy. “Skell!” he bawled immediately upon seeing the woman, and she hissed at him, “Shut the fuck UP!” almost as immediately.
"Now," Green Arrow said, bringing the boy over to where Skell was still pinioned by the net. "It doesn’t take a genius to see that you two are related, unless your boss has a particular desire for hiring jug-eared drug-runners for his gang. So whatcha say, big sis? Is Junior here enough leverage for you to spill us a few details?"
Manhunter kept herself from trying to catch Green Arrow’s eye at the second chances comment, but it was damn difficult, particularly when she (unlike Skell) could read the expression accurately. It broke her heart all over again—
And she really needed to not be thinking about this right now, which was why it was fortunate that Skell’s…brother, maybe, they looked closely related enough…decided to be stupid enough to draw Ollie’s attention. She was slightly irritated with herself that she hadn’t picked up on the sounds that he had, but hell, that was why they were doing this in tandem. That and the fact that it was fun.
"No second chances, we get it," she said, not budging from where she had her staff against Skell’s neck. She was trying, desperately, not to have sympathy at the situation get past her, but the brother showing up didn’t exactly help matters. Manhunter’s jaw was set, sure, and she wasn’t about to tell GA to go easy on the kid, but it didn’t mean she wanted him to get hurt much. His sister, on the other hand…
"You have thirty seconds to think about talking," she said, though she could almost hear Ollie’s snort at the idea of negotiating here. "If you don’t, we start getting ugly, then leave you here in pieces for your boss’ boys to sweep up and make even uglier. But if you’re good, and don’t feed us any bullshit? We might even give you and Jughead here the opportunity to get out of town before they find you."
Jughead almost immediately started sniveling and twitching at Manhunter’s threats (and she was more likely to deliver on them than Green Arrow ever would be, Ollie realized rather suddenly) and twisted weakly in Ollie’s grasp. “Skell, come on,” he whined. “You know we been meaning to leave Gotham anyhow, head out to Keystone—”
"Shut the fuck up!" Skell snapped at the teenager, furious. She went still under the net for a few moments, lying down under the weight, clearly tired out from struggling against it. "Fine," she said eventually. "I’ll give you what I got. But you gotta make sure you don’t tell nobody you got it from us, and you gotta give us a couple days’ head start outta this fucking place." She glared up at Kate. "Otherwise you WILL be killing us, and worse than you could ever do even with that freak staff of yours."
Manhunter—no, actually, this was more Kate than anything Manhuntery—gave Green Arrow a look (though her mask hid it, she knew he’d know from her facial expressions that she was lifting both brows in silent query). Skell did have a point, after all, and both of them knew it. Gotham criminals were nasty and despite how frustrating and painful it was when applied to, say, his goddamn personal life, Batman’s methodology for dealing with them was in place for a reason.
"It’s a deal—if you don’t go back to selling hard stuff," she said, turning back to Skell, making a decision and sticking to it, seeing as she’d laid it on the table. God, it was like plea bargaining gone to hell. "And we will check up on you, and I swear, sweetheart, if you fuck us on this, when we’ve cut you and your brother here a pretty nice break?”
She twitched her staff a little, deliberately, just shy of Skell’s jaw. “I won’t hesitate to make things pretty fucking unpleasant, or possibly feed some information back to some ears who might be interested in knowing where you’ve gone. Here’s how it works: you talk now, you tell the truth, and you tell us everything you know. We give you and Bro two hours to grab whatever dirty money you have squirreled away and get the fuck out of Gotham, because we got other plans for this evening besides babysitting your sorry asses. We don’t ever talk again unless you break our agreement, and yes, a verbal contract is binding in this state. Spit it out.”
Skell talked, and she did it with remarkable economy, considering the breadth of the information she was handing over. It wasn’t enough to make the two heroes believe that they’d reached the top of the power pyramid when it came to the Double Smile running, not *nearly* enough, but it was a solid lead and one generated by a true-blue Gothamite. Which was nothing to sneer at, even as her brother snuffled and whined and offered snippets of his own, flowing so fast that even his sister’s glares couldn’t halt them.
"So that’s all, that’s all we got," Skell said finally, and Ollie let go of Jughead, who scrambled over and started helping his sister get the net off her. Ollie, somewhat touched by this show of devotion, leaned over to help tug the net aside.
"You two better high-tail it right fast, just like Manhunter said," he told them. "I know you wanted days, but hours are all we can guarantee you when it comes to being hunted in Gotham. Once you’re out we’ll make sure they’ve got bigger fish to fry, don’t you worry about that part of it."
Finally freed, Skell favoured them both with a death-glare before she and her brother headed out the window. “Well, at least they’ve got survival instincts,” Ollie said, watching them disappear. Then he heaved a sigh and looked at Kate. “So,” he said. “Double Smile and Mr. Freeze are both products of the same cartel. I dunno if that’s a good or a bad thing, really — not to mention I’m not loving the theme.”
It seemed to be relatively truthful information, or at least the truth as Skell and brother knew it, which was what made the situation even more worrisome. The whole thing was far more tangled than it had seemed at the outset, if this was just what a very low-level lieutenant knew about it all. Manhunter remained impassive, twitching her staff against her palm (she’d moved it away from Skell, of course, but it was still at the ready), until it was done.
"Not even a thank you. Not even a sarcastic one," she said, rolling her eyes under the mask as Skell and Jughead scurried out of the building. The RFID tag off the arrow that had got the latter would keep tabs on them, at least, until Kate and Ollie got time to follow up with their contacts. If they were smart at all, they’d get the fuck going, and Skell didn’t seem stupid.
Once she was sure they were gone, she sagged slightly against the counter, flicking her staff back to closed and shifting the top of the mask down a little so she could rub her forehead and look back at Gr—Ollie. “The theme’s ominous as hell,” she agreed. “Though it does mean there’s a pattern, which is useful. We can predict where they’re going to diversify the product. And we can bring it all down at once if we figure out where and how. It’s just gonna be harder.”
She grinned wryly. “Looks like we really do need to make camp, boss.”
"Good thing we brought our toothbrushes, then." Ollie gathered up his net and rolled it into a tight ball, cramming it into his quiver. "It’ll be easier working from here if Gotham’s not just an eastcoast pipeline after all, but a manufacturing point for the new versions of these fucking Bat Rogue’s Gallery designer drugs." He grunted. "What the hell was *my* city, then? Some kind of damn focus group for their market research?"
Ollie didn’t wait for an answer, seeing as he was mostly griping for griping’s sake; they had another reason for setting up operations in Gotham City, after all, and it was the burg’s favourite son.
"Let’s get back to the condo," he said, suddenly feeling wiped out. Being strung out on nerves and not eating much probably had something to do with how fast he got tired these days, but Ollie’d had long jaunts of running on nothing but his own drive and determination before. This was just another one of those times.
"California’s always a rough market," Kate replied, cynically. "If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere." She snorted softly, because they didn’t need to even speak their reasoning aloud. Not anymore.
Even so, she paused as she slung her staff back under her arm for the moment, skimming Ollie up and down. “You’re going to have to get that tux tailored,” she noted, quietly. “Or on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t. Drive the point home a little bit.” A lot, actually, he’d lost far too much weight lately.
"You’re right. Let’s get some sleep," she continued, then quirked a half-smile at her husband. "Need a lift, mister? Cheapest taxi you’ll get in Gotham."
"Hey now," Ollie said, moving over so he could wrap one arm around Kate’s shoulders, kiss the side of her head. "Watch who you’re calling cheap." He held her there for a moment, listening to the sounds of Gotham below change with the fall of night. This was Batman’s time in this city. You could almost hear it in the furtive, dark, almost sexual rhythm that the street noises were starting to beat.
It was too depressing to dwell on.
"So let’s see this staff of yours in action," Ollie said instead, rubbing his hand down Kate’s back, the thickness of her red nanofibre costume almost going thinner and warmer under his touch, molding itself to the curve of her spine. "We really would be too conspicuous on the subway."
"I’m not ashamed of being cheap," Kate retorted in reply. "Cheap as hell, in all the best ways." She recognized the look on Ollie’s face and she too didn’t want to be out too late—less that she was worried who they might run into (they’d handle that), more that she knew the kind of trouble they could get into instead, and both of them already run near ragged.
Instead, she slung her arm around Ollie’s shoulders, and made a few adjustments to the staff. It was actually probably lucky he’d lost some mass, otherwise they’d likely have run into some problems that Dylan would have had an epic whining session about when she dropped in for repairs.
She smiled as he pressed his hand against her back, where it almost felt like being against bare skin. “Hold on tight,” she said with a smirk, enjoying the reversal of the situation, and let forth a blast.
To be honest, she was looking forward to his reaction.
Well, of course they were, Ollie chided himself as he swung down over the side of a building, feet hitting the railing of a fire escape only long enough to propel him across the thirty-foot drop of the alleyway to catch the ladder of the building opposite. The climate here was different, wasn’t it? You’d need different roofs. When he’d lived in Seattle, after all, it had taken some time to get accustomed to designs meant to weather all that rainfall, not like the warm California climates.
The fleeing figure of his quarry was making her way over these East Coast rooftops with a fleetness that Ollie couldn’t match, but he had some significant gains on her: he had almost twenty years’ worth of parkour ability, stamina like a cart horse, and a long-range weapon that he happened to be *insanely* skilled with. As Ollie ran after her, long legs eating up the distance easily and taking the width of another jump, following her down along the top floor ledge of this building and around up the side, he couldn’t help grinning. This felt *good*. It felt good in a way he hadn’t felt for months, cold wind whistling past his ears as he gave chase and his body twisting and bunching and reaching the ways he wanted it to.
Skell, the dealer he was currently hound-dogging, made a wild jump across another alley gap onto the facade of an abandoned department store, scrambling along that narrower ledge before she dived into a tall broken-open window into the darkness within. Ollie paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow over his mask. An electric blue flare a few rooftops to the east caught his attention, and he grinned wider, figuring that Manhunter must have caught her own prey. Green Arrow looked back at his own chase, the high window yawning open. “Must think she’s dealing with a podunk amateur,” he muttered to himself, before unslinging his bow and nocking up an arrow.
To be totally honest, though, a few months ago he wouldn’t be able to go in like this — take a running leap across the gap, tucking into a tight roll as he came in high through the window and bullets whizzed past him when the woman was forced to adjust her shots. She’d been aiming lower and if he’d been his usual fighting weight, she would’ve plugged him instead of narrowly missing; as it was, Green Arrow managed to land and somersault, barely coming up out of his crouch before he fired at her in response.
"Don’t struggle," he instructed her, unfurling to his full height, squaring his shoulders. Broad and muscle-heavy enough to have misled her about his total body mass, and good thing at that. "That thing’s electrified. Gift from a friend, you might know him? About yea high, pointy ears, voice like Tom Waits after a week of chainsmoking Camels? C’mon, I’m sure you know ‘im. Famous ‘round these parts, so I hear."
"You know that much, you know he’ll be mad as fuck that you’re pissing in his pool," Skell spat, pinned immobile under the heavy net. Ollie leaned down to pick up her Glock and disassembled it in a few swift motions. The electric blue flashes were getting closer. The archer smiled, feral, and tossed the pieces of the gun to the ground.
"Oh, don’t worry about that," he said. "The *real* bad cop’s gonna be here in just a second." As if on cue, Ollie heard Kate land inside the abandoned store and laughed, spreading his arms to gesture at their surroundings. “Manhunter!” he greeted her. “Skell here says — welcome to Gotham City.”
As it happened, Manhunter had left Skell’s second-in-command—she hadn’t really caught his name, something like Ronnie?—passed out and somewhat the worse for wear from staff zapping, neatly trussed up for GCPD to pick up, and with just enough of the secondary product (oxy) to convict him for intent to sell. If his location happened to be on top of a roof in the late summer smog, so be it; she’d email them a tip in later.
Or a Bat would find him. She wasn’t really bothered either way.
The chase for their main quarry had meant that she’d had enough time to tie Lenny, Ronnie, whomever, up, pocket the product she and GA were looking for, then trail behind on cover duty. She’d watched Ollie shoot, from her perch on the ventilation shafts (because that sight never got old, made her mouth…not just her mouth…water), before neatly and tidily hitting her mark.
As for Skell’s assertions regarding Batman? They were fairly accurate, which meant she was relatively astute, and hopefully meant she’d be useful instead of a waste of their time.
"Gee," Manhunter said, landing, then striding forward, staff under one arm. "Kind of a shitty welcome wagon, GA. I don’t see any gift basket. I was hoping for one of those kitschy shaped cheeses to take home to LA. Think they come in bat shapes here?"
Skell sneered at the approaching figure. “What, you gotta feed your litter on Gotham welfare, chola bitch?” she retorted.
Seeing as the dealer couldn’t move anything but her mouth, Manhunter’d figured it was pretty much a given that she’d go there, but that didn’t mean she had to like it, and her staff was up, primed, and just shy of Skell’s head before the last word was out.
"Sweetie," she said, calmly, and flicked the packet of Double Smile from Donnie/Ronnie/Lenny into her free hand. "You’re the one who’s gonna need welfare to put food on the table, seeing as we’ve got your meal ticket. Let’s talk like grownups now, and I won’t have to rewire your nervous system before we’re done."
"Besides," Ollie added with unseemly mirth, "Manhunter here’s gone and married a billionaire, or haven’t you heard? She’s got no worries when it comes to feeding her litter." He flashed a wide, insolent grin at his wife, adding a broad wink for good measure, and then leaned against one of the peeling paint walls and folded his arms. He had a good view of the rooftop approach from his position and no other members of the gang would be able to sneak up on them while Kate was doing her interrogation thing. Plus, he knew from many years of shaking down suspects, the whole casual ease with the possibility of blindingly brutal force thing tended to make people skittish and talky.
Skell wasn’t one of the more savvy dealers of the product for nothing, though. “What makes you think I’m scared enough of you two shitheads that I’m gonna roll over just like that?” she spat, starting to wriggle under the heavy netting. “Superhero fucks never kill anybody. Druglords do.”
Ollie pursed his mouth and drew in a breath. “Oooooh,” he said. “I’m gonna let you field that one, Manhunter.”
"You’re just jealous I get to go to all the swank parties, Arrow," Manhunter replied, because keeping up the banter was part of the game, and it really would be stupid to give away too much about their…uh, out of cape partnership with flirting, thank you Oliver. “Beyoncé says hi to your skinny white ass, sorry I forgot to tell you.”
She turned back to Skell, considering her latest comment with a very bright and very dark smile. “Aw, she’s so cute, isn’t she? Used to the Bats, though…I never thought Gotham City would make this kind of trash soft—”
With a flick of her wrist, she used the end of her staff to lift up Skell’s jaw a little, between the webbing, business end now right against her throat. “But you might not have heard over here that I play West Coast offense, sweetie. Hardball. I don’t really do the whole catch and release thing if I’ve got a fish on the line.” And I mix all my sports metaphors. “So you tell us what we want to know, or we’ll be really pissed off that you wasted our time. I mean, shit, you know how many missed calls GA’s got since we’ve been out here?”
The fact that Skell’s boss was trigger happy—more than just that, but likely a sadist, if Kate was following the body language right—was not a good sign. Not shocking, but it meant this would be a big pain in the ass to resolve.
Despite her boasts, Skell seemed to be rattled a little more by the feeling of Manhunter’s staff — warm and crackling with pulses of blue energy — under her jaw. She swallowed hard, gaze darting between the two costumed heroes. “You aren’t from Gotham,” she said, a slightly imploring whine colouring her tone. “You don’t know what it’s like here. There ain’t no second chances, not with the underworld that runs things in this town. Or with the Bat.” She noticed Green Arrow grimacing at that comment and took it as his doubting her statement, because she hurriedly elaborated, “The Bat doesn’t mess around with this shit! That’s why the Gotham bosses have to be even MORE hardcore when it comes to keeping their people in line. You getting what I’m saying?”
"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Ollie answered, but he wasn’t looking at her anymore. He was moving away from the wall that had been propping him up, eyes sharpened and peering into the growing darkness outside, tenseness through his muscles. "Something catch your attention, GA?" Kate asked, and he could hear the alert in her voice even though to Skell it would still carry the same casual threat that Manhunter’d been employing moments earlier.
Ollie gave a grunt and a sniff, then fired three arrows out the window in rapidfire succession, following them out and returning hauling a terrified teenaged boy. “Skell!” he bawled immediately upon seeing the woman, and she hissed at him, “Shut the fuck UP!” almost as immediately.
"Now," Green Arrow said, bringing the boy over to where Skell was still pinioned by the net. "It doesn’t take a genius to see that you two are related, unless your boss has a particular desire for hiring jug-eared drug-runners for his gang. So whatcha say, big sis? Is Junior here enough leverage for you to spill us a few details?"
Manhunter kept herself from trying to catch Green Arrow’s eye at the second chances comment, but it was damn difficult, particularly when she (unlike Skell) could read the expression accurately. It broke her heart all over again—
And she really needed to not be thinking about this right now, which was why it was fortunate that Skell’s…brother, maybe, they looked closely related enough…decided to be stupid enough to draw Ollie’s attention. She was slightly irritated with herself that she hadn’t picked up on the sounds that he had, but hell, that was why they were doing this in tandem. That and the fact that it was fun.
"No second chances, we get it," she said, not budging from where she had her staff against Skell’s neck. She was trying, desperately, not to have sympathy at the situation get past her, but the brother showing up didn’t exactly help matters. Manhunter’s jaw was set, sure, and she wasn’t about to tell GA to go easy on the kid, but it didn’t mean she wanted him to get hurt much. His sister, on the other hand…
"You have thirty seconds to think about talking," she said, though she could almost hear Ollie’s snort at the idea of negotiating here. "If you don’t, we start getting ugly, then leave you here in pieces for your boss’ boys to sweep up and make even uglier. But if you’re good, and don’t feed us any bullshit? We might even give you and Jughead here the opportunity to get out of town before they find you."
Jughead almost immediately started sniveling and twitching at Manhunter’s threats (and she was more likely to deliver on them than Green Arrow ever would be, Ollie realized rather suddenly) and twisted weakly in Ollie’s grasp. “Skell, come on,” he whined. “You know we been meaning to leave Gotham anyhow, head out to Keystone—”
"Shut the fuck up!" Skell snapped at the teenager, furious. She went still under the net for a few moments, lying down under the weight, clearly tired out from struggling against it. "Fine," she said eventually. "I’ll give you what I got. But you gotta make sure you don’t tell nobody you got it from us, and you gotta give us a couple days’ head start outta this fucking place." She glared up at Kate. "Otherwise you WILL be killing us, and worse than you could ever do even with that freak staff of yours."
Manhunter—no, actually, this was more Kate than anything Manhuntery—gave Green Arrow a look (though her mask hid it, she knew he’d know from her facial expressions that she was lifting both brows in silent query). Skell did have a point, after all, and both of them knew it. Gotham criminals were nasty and despite how frustrating and painful it was when applied to, say, his goddamn personal life, Batman’s methodology for dealing with them was in place for a reason.
"It’s a deal—if you don’t go back to selling hard stuff," she said, turning back to Skell, making a decision and sticking to it, seeing as she’d laid it on the table. God, it was like plea bargaining gone to hell. "And we will check up on you, and I swear, sweetheart, if you fuck us on this, when we’ve cut you and your brother here a pretty nice break?”
She twitched her staff a little, deliberately, just shy of Skell’s jaw. “I won’t hesitate to make things pretty fucking unpleasant, or possibly feed some information back to some ears who might be interested in knowing where you’ve gone. Here’s how it works: you talk now, you tell the truth, and you tell us everything you know. We give you and Bro two hours to grab whatever dirty money you have squirreled away and get the fuck out of Gotham, because we got other plans for this evening besides babysitting your sorry asses. We don’t ever talk again unless you break our agreement, and yes, a verbal contract is binding in this state. Spit it out.”
Skell talked, and she did it with remarkable economy, considering the breadth of the information she was handing over. It wasn’t enough to make the two heroes believe that they’d reached the top of the power pyramid when it came to the Double Smile running, not *nearly* enough, but it was a solid lead and one generated by a true-blue Gothamite. Which was nothing to sneer at, even as her brother snuffled and whined and offered snippets of his own, flowing so fast that even his sister’s glares couldn’t halt them.
"So that’s all, that’s all we got," Skell said finally, and Ollie let go of Jughead, who scrambled over and started helping his sister get the net off her. Ollie, somewhat touched by this show of devotion, leaned over to help tug the net aside.
"You two better high-tail it right fast, just like Manhunter said," he told them. "I know you wanted days, but hours are all we can guarantee you when it comes to being hunted in Gotham. Once you’re out we’ll make sure they’ve got bigger fish to fry, don’t you worry about that part of it."
Finally freed, Skell favoured them both with a death-glare before she and her brother headed out the window. “Well, at least they’ve got survival instincts,” Ollie said, watching them disappear. Then he heaved a sigh and looked at Kate. “So,” he said. “Double Smile and Mr. Freeze are both products of the same cartel. I dunno if that’s a good or a bad thing, really — not to mention I’m not loving the theme.”
It seemed to be relatively truthful information, or at least the truth as Skell and brother knew it, which was what made the situation even more worrisome. The whole thing was far more tangled than it had seemed at the outset, if this was just what a very low-level lieutenant knew about it all. Manhunter remained impassive, twitching her staff against her palm (she’d moved it away from Skell, of course, but it was still at the ready), until it was done.
"Not even a thank you. Not even a sarcastic one," she said, rolling her eyes under the mask as Skell and Jughead scurried out of the building. The RFID tag off the arrow that had got the latter would keep tabs on them, at least, until Kate and Ollie got time to follow up with their contacts. If they were smart at all, they’d get the fuck going, and Skell didn’t seem stupid.
Once she was sure they were gone, she sagged slightly against the counter, flicking her staff back to closed and shifting the top of the mask down a little so she could rub her forehead and look back at Gr—Ollie. “The theme’s ominous as hell,” she agreed. “Though it does mean there’s a pattern, which is useful. We can predict where they’re going to diversify the product. And we can bring it all down at once if we figure out where and how. It’s just gonna be harder.”
She grinned wryly. “Looks like we really do need to make camp, boss.”
"Good thing we brought our toothbrushes, then." Ollie gathered up his net and rolled it into a tight ball, cramming it into his quiver. "It’ll be easier working from here if Gotham’s not just an eastcoast pipeline after all, but a manufacturing point for the new versions of these fucking Bat Rogue’s Gallery designer drugs." He grunted. "What the hell was *my* city, then? Some kind of damn focus group for their market research?"
Ollie didn’t wait for an answer, seeing as he was mostly griping for griping’s sake; they had another reason for setting up operations in Gotham City, after all, and it was the burg’s favourite son.
"Let’s get back to the condo," he said, suddenly feeling wiped out. Being strung out on nerves and not eating much probably had something to do with how fast he got tired these days, but Ollie’d had long jaunts of running on nothing but his own drive and determination before. This was just another one of those times.
"California’s always a rough market," Kate replied, cynically. "If you can make it there, you can make it anywhere." She snorted softly, because they didn’t need to even speak their reasoning aloud. Not anymore.
Even so, she paused as she slung her staff back under her arm for the moment, skimming Ollie up and down. “You’re going to have to get that tux tailored,” she noted, quietly. “Or on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t. Drive the point home a little bit.” A lot, actually, he’d lost far too much weight lately.
"You’re right. Let’s get some sleep," she continued, then quirked a half-smile at her husband. "Need a lift, mister? Cheapest taxi you’ll get in Gotham."
"Hey now," Ollie said, moving over so he could wrap one arm around Kate’s shoulders, kiss the side of her head. "Watch who you’re calling cheap." He held her there for a moment, listening to the sounds of Gotham below change with the fall of night. This was Batman’s time in this city. You could almost hear it in the furtive, dark, almost sexual rhythm that the street noises were starting to beat.
It was too depressing to dwell on.
"So let’s see this staff of yours in action," Ollie said instead, rubbing his hand down Kate’s back, the thickness of her red nanofibre costume almost going thinner and warmer under his touch, molding itself to the curve of her spine. "We really would be too conspicuous on the subway."
"I’m not ashamed of being cheap," Kate retorted in reply. "Cheap as hell, in all the best ways." She recognized the look on Ollie’s face and she too didn’t want to be out too late—less that she was worried who they might run into (they’d handle that), more that she knew the kind of trouble they could get into instead, and both of them already run near ragged.
Instead, she slung her arm around Ollie’s shoulders, and made a few adjustments to the staff. It was actually probably lucky he’d lost some mass, otherwise they’d likely have run into some problems that Dylan would have had an epic whining session about when she dropped in for repairs.
She smiled as he pressed his hand against her back, where it almost felt like being against bare skin. “Hold on tight,” she said with a smirk, enjoying the reversal of the situation, and let forth a blast.
To be honest, she was looking forward to his reaction.