Arkham Chapter 7

[b]Thank you. This next one is an old scrapbook I had that was actually meant as a chapter for this. Might as well transfer it over.

[center]Chapter 7: Shot in the Dark[/center][/b]


[i]Bowery, Western Arkham City[/i]

Concrete. That's the first thing she felt as she came to consciousness. Concrete on her back. A cough in pain, a wince.

Needless to say, this woman was [i]not[/i] having a good day. Now...where was she?

She looked down at herself, pulling herself up on her elbows. That gun was [i]good[/i]. A brief scan of her surroundings through her polarized visor indicated that she was still in the same area of the city, perhaps a roof down. Okay, so she hadn't fallen to the street. That would explain the lack of a broken neck.

Finally, a wince of pain, something wet on her gut. Her left arm reached over to touch it, the black gloves still intact, and came up.

Finally she remembered where she was. She remembered Cobblepot, Tetch, the "Joker," Quinzel. She remembered her awkward meeting with Mireu, Crane. She remembered Wayne, too, how he was here. And she remembered the one who had told her of the enemies in this area, the situation: Azrael. The microchip in her gloves that gave her access to her latest tool. And her target now...

Another wince as she looked at the hand. Red dripped off on to her armor, but it was all dark on the glove, under the break in her battle dress uniform.

"That's my blood," she muttered, lowering the hand, her head falling back a bit in pain. "That's my blood, that's a [i]lot[/i] of my blood..."

[size=1]"How is he still alive?!"[/size] She could hear the voices coming closer.

"What're we gonna do?" another asked, a second man.

"What do you think? Kill 'im again!" the third, as they were almost in view, though not quite.

Those three she had seen... Two with no weapons, one with a modified STAR-21 with an extended barrel for sniping. She'd need to get up. But the wound would make things....difficult, if nothing else. Alright, options.

Option One: Get up, fight, pray to survive. Not exactly stellar. Option Two: [i]Not[/i] bleed out by getting a Potion from her rucksack. She hated to use them, but what worked, worked.

She sighed, reaching back and grabbing out of the limitless capacity. Tilt back her helmet a bit so she could drink, tipping back the blue bottle with the green star on it...drink, drink, drink... Okay, down, throw it down, watch the glass shatter. That way they wouldn't know what it was. That was....the first full potion she had drank, as far as she knew. The wound in her gut healed somewhat. Not fully, but enough to keep her from dying of blood loss and to not hinder her combat capacity.

The men wore winter clothing, with thick jackets, winter camouflage pants, and black and white balaclavas. On their backs were white patches with a black penguin insignia on it. As predicted, only one had a gun, the modified designated marksman rifle, with two others being unarmed. She decided to designate them as "Sniper", "Fist 1", and "Fist 2" for convenience.

"You're gonna beg us to stop," Fist 1 said, strafing around the left side as she stood with hands low.

"You're gonna die in Arkham City, freak," Fist 2 added.

With the rifle she had on the ground, there was no way she'd get it and get a good, nonfatal shot in for one go.

She acted instantaneously as they came at her. A hand grabbed the side of each of the Fists' heads, bashing them into each other and making them double over in pain, groaning. Quickly, she shoved both of them back, into the line of fire before kicking off of their chests, using them as springboards to get over the shot. She landed next to Sniper, yanking the gun toward her to get him off balance. In the next motion, she yanked the magazine out of the gun on a shove forwards, simultaneously kneeing him in the chest. Plucking the gun out of his hands as he also doubled over, she kicked into the back of his neck with her armored boot. Hard, hard enough for a knockout.

A turn on the spot as the two Fists were getting back to their senses. Number 1 got the magazine thrown at his face, ducking to avoid it and leaving himself open. The Tavor was slammed into the side of his head stock-first, followed by her blocking a punch from the other one with her free hand. Turning the hand over, she grabbed the elbow, Throwing him to the ground on his back before pulling...a yank, breaking his arm to cause him to scream, out of the fighting.

Going to the other, she stepped aside of a thrown punch, grabbing him by the neck and punching him in the back of the head. A knee to the chest for another double over, an elbow to the back of the head, and a hand behind his neck, throwing him to the ground and knocking him unconscious on impact.

A red laser could be seen nearby, coming closer to her, looking.... She sprinted, escaping the area, grabbing up the rifle she had dropped aside from the Tavor and lunging, grabbing the next roof. A bullet hit the ground behind her, chipping off some of the concrete, a swear heard...and she pulled herself up, flattening her back behind a cooling unit for an apartment. Easy enough.

One block from the target. She took the rifle off of her back, a Seeker Rifle, and checked the sights. Worked well enough, and he couldn't see her.

"Why are you hiding? Is it because you're dead already?!" Okay, still angry. Predictable.

"Got Lawton," the Huntress muttered into her helmet, not moving much. She had the right communicator. "I'll cover him. Go make sure Fries doesn't go psycho. I'll be over there later."

She turned over, laying on her stomach in the snow. Eyes down the sights...

"My turn, Deadshot," said Sergeant Azumi Ian. And she fired.

===

[i]Fifteen minutes ago...
Amusement Mile, Eastern Arkham City[/i]

Ever since Tetch, she had been pretty on edge. Between him, seeing this universe's Jessica Mireu, and the encounter with Crane, she just wanted to get away from it all for a few minutes.

He had the toxins from the Hatter. No doubt about it. But she had to consider that later. Given their properties, she had no doubts about who it was to be for, and she did shudder to think of how it could be used, but she had to concentrate. Eyes on the prize, woman.

Trying to calm herself, she looked at the orange omnitool as she activated it on her left arm. It was very useful, and, in accordance with her self-imposed restrictions, not magical, just more technology. It was definitely enough to make schematics of items she came across, to transmit data to her ally here aside from the Scarecrow. Weapons on her? M6C/SOCOM at her hip, Seeker Rifle across her back, Brute shortsword across the back of her waist, combat knife on her chestplate. Sturdy armor that she could still move around well enough in to perform enough parkour. Not to mention a few grenades and her healing items she had stacked up, not wanting to use unless in absolute emergencies.

"You stand alone."

She bit her lip, jumping forward as she reached to her gun and turned around, glaring at the figure before her. Red hood, dark skin, white cloth over armor with a red cross upon its chest. Two white katara blades that came from each wrist, glowing slightly, able to be ignited fully. She knew this man. Not his name, but his form. So she just shouted. "What the hell?! Warn me, damnit!"

The man, a Knight Templar if there ever was one still in this universe, just calmly stared at her, nonplussed. "You stand alone against damnation, and do not ask why I have come."

Her omnitool, still active, worked, registering his katara blade and gauntlet as she answered him. Evidently he did not understand the technology or did not care, because he did not object. "Why help me, huh? What's your angle? What do you get out of it?"

"You are not Batman," he said. Silence for a moment. "The prophecies do not mention the Huntress."

"Yeah, I'm new here. Give me the info." Download continuing...

"Deadshot," he said, looking to the nearby building with a large substation, about six or so feet tall, on top. Easy enough for her to reach. "His technological aid is there. The code will likely be his occupation in some degree." He raised his blade, the whole thing igniting further, burning from within...

"Wait, wait!" Okay, download complete, with that information at the last bit. Good enough, especially with the probable flashbangs on his waist. "What do you want from me, anyway?!"

The same deadpan look. "To do some good before you burn, seeing heaven and feeling hell." He carved out a semicircle beneath him, and a flash, them smoke...and he was gone as it faded away.

That was definitely reassuring, of course. She grumbled to herself, letting her hand down. "She better be happy about this. I'll get what I can from him later."

She took off running toward the right spot, keeping close to the nearest wall. A step up on it, another....kick forward. She sailed through the air for a moment, then somersaulted, stopping on her feet on the correct rooftop before her target, the door to the substation, with it's locked metal door. Now...how to open it....

First she considered how Batman was most likely to try. It usually seemed to be her best option. The woman grabbed the top right corner of the door, and began to pull. It was a tough operation, and although she knew she could do it.... it was just too tiring, especially since she needed her strength for running. Best to take the simplest option and go for a workout to build up some more muscle mass later.

Therefore, she simply summarily took the Seeker Rifle from her back, holding it sideways as she aimed at the hinges on the left side. Six shells in the gun, high caliber...she could do this, she presumed. One shot, a hinge broken rather loudly, luckily with nobody finding out. A second shot, the high hinge. She put the gun back on her back, gripped the door, and pulled it off rather easily, dropping it next to opening.

As predicted by Azrael, there was a personal digital assistant inside. She picked it up, deciding to use it manually instead of using the "tech hacker" her mentor had given her... Password, eight digits spaced halfway through. Okay....something to do with his job? Three options. She decided the first. "ASSASSIN".

[color=red]PASSWORD REJECTED[/color]

Luckily she had another shot. Okay, that was more predictable, not being able to space that way....maybe her second option?

"HEADSHOT".

[color=green]PASSWORD ACCEPTED[/color]

Whatever works. She skimmed the list of targets that came up. Each had a picture and some information, the first with a red X over its picture. He was working to a schedule.

[blockquote][b]Lawrence Graham[/b]
[color=red]TARGET ELIMINATED[/color]
Est. 1:00 AM

[b]Andrew Brian[/b]
[color=green]NEXT TARGET[/color]
Est. 1:30 AM

[b]Sarli Javohody[/b]
[color=green]NEW TARGET[/color]
Est. 2:00 AM

[b]Jack Ryder[/b]
[color=green]NEW TARGET[/color]
Est. 2:30 AM

[b]Bruce Wayne[/b]
[color=green]NEW TARGET[/color]
Est. 3:00 AM

[b]The Batman[/b]
[color=green]NEW TARGET[/color]
Est. 3:30 AM[/blockquote]

Aside from faint amusement at the last two entries, she was serious. This guy was serious as she had thought. Okay, so one down, and the next at...

[i]Ah, sh**,[/i] she thought. Andrew Brian's death was scheduled for 1:30 in the morning. According to the clock on the same PDA, it was currently 1:22. She had to move fast if she was going to make it to... okay, location he's gonna be is marked off, memorized. Less because she knew the guy and more because she had to get to him before he figured out she went through his things.

Watching the helicopter as it came by, she walked around the back of the substation. Okay, long enough, tall enough good enough for her. She took two steps back...and sprinted, lunching at the top. Arms touched the top and pulled her over into a somersault, feet touched the edge on the other side of the substation as a jumping-off point to spring [i]forward[/i] toward the chopper!

Ignore the ground as you fly, as you reach, as Abigail Walters called it, the deadpoint, not rising or falling. Reach forward, legs pinwheeling... grab the bar, feeling the arm nearly wrenched out of its socket from the force, but ignoring the pain, used to things like this in less complicated situations.

She waited, tensed, praying that they would not notice her on their usual route... and was met favorably. Nobody saw her, and she was on her way to the assassin.

The soldier sighed with relief. She'd made it, her grip more or less solid as she wrapped a leg around the bar to steady herself and hide her silhouette better. She thought about the plan, about this and all she had for this world. Insane? Probably. Suicidal? Time would tell. She marked her target's assassination spot on her VISR's map of the district, taking her own spot one a little off, carefully chosen.

Only now did she look down, seeing the many below. The TYGER mercenaries specialized in taking down the criminals and perhaps even this universe's Batman himself. The unarmed, the ones with bats, with assault rifles, other guns. As she neared her target, came close to her exit point, she could see three who could make it messy, trying to make sure not to be seen by them. Two unarmed, one with an IMI STAR-21 with an extended muzzle to act as a sniper rifle. Checking the specs, she could be pretty sure she could disarm it, but only if she was lucky and quick about it.

She checked her time. 1:28 ante meridian. Two minutes to assassination. She could see a bipod set up at the building, the man at it with his own STAR-21. She recognized him. The target.

Floyd Lawton, alias "Deadshot." Like any self-respecting villain in this place, he looked a little ridiculous. black holsters strapped to the legs of his red pants and two two black belts on him with silver buckles. A black, long-sleeved shirt with a yellow stripe down each of the arms, a black strap around each of the upper arms as well as a thicker one over each shoulder. A red, sleeveless jacket of sorts over, zipped up with a yellow insignia on its chest. A trimmed brown goatee and mustache, blue eyes. Over his head but for his eyes, nose, and the area of his nose and mouth was a black balaclava with a yellow-lined strap going over the head and around the right side, a red eyepiece over the right eye. He was about six feet tall or a little more overall.

Self-proclaimed deadliest mercenary in the world. Probably right, given his near-impossible aim with any projectiles or firearms. As per the aforementioned aim, he almost never misses, only having done so when intercepted by this universe's Batman in one way or another, making him a primary target due to the wounded pride. Still, he appeared to disdain himself as much as his targets, if his reckless behavior meant anything about possible suicidal tendencies. Nevertheless, he didn't seem to leave any traces, probably another way to owe to his reputation. Was he any good at close combat? Time would tell if necessary.

Okay, the equipment she could see on him. He had that red eyepatch of some sort, a laser sight. Made things too easy on her, but she wasn't complaining. It looked like two Inglis Hi-Power semiautomatic handguns in holsters on the outsides of his legs. Body armor on his torso and legs? Not unbelievable, neither was it that his headgear was bullet-resistant. She would have to go for any openings she could. Now then, the two 9 millimeter cannons on each of his wrists for a total of four, silenced if his normal work meant anything... she would need to look out for those, but not damage them. Could be useful if she could get them off of him.

She lunged off, rolling after her landing behind a billboard a block away from her target and out of sight. She was in range of another block if she really needed it, and there was a roof just under hers just in case she needed it. She took out her M6C/SOCOM automag handgun, turned around the corner, and waited, watched.

She could see him. His back was to her, aiming down the sights, ready to fire. The high-powered round, if shot, would go straight through a water tower, and then presumably Andrew Brian's head. She needed perfect timing, as she aimed through the four-times scope.

She couldn't kill him. Too easy, too far against the Bat's rules. So she decided to do the next best thing. Make him miss. Aim low, wait...watch....

Lawton pulled the trigger.

The bipod twitched, forcing his shot high as a round hit the left leg. the bullet went through the top of the water tower, but not through the center as planned.

Shocked and enraged, he turned on the spot, looking back toward his new foe. "Who are you?! You made me [i]miss my shot[/i]!" he shouted in indignation. "I [i]never[/i] miss!"

Another shot hit him in the right arm as he tried to fire in her direction, causing the arm to be thrown back a bit, the rifle falling off the roof. Lost grip. Lost rifle. Not unarmed with his silenced wrist-pistols, not unable to see her.

Quickly, she ducked behind the billboard as she put the pistol back into her holster, trying to run around the side, to get to another roof, out of sight....

The wood shattered, the metal slug slamming into her, sending her flying backwards. Not the first time she had been shot, but it did not get any easier. Pain, a shout, and a louder one as she hit the next floor. Armored head to concrete...

Nothing.

===

The high-caliber Seeker shell tore straight through the air conditioning unit, drilling straight into Deadshot's leg. He screamed in pain, taking a breath for a moment to make sure he could think straight, but did not let up, aiming in her direction...

Nothing. She wasn't there anymore, but on the edge of the roof she had been on, sidling around the side, trying to get to him. She could get over there, knock him out cold.

Red eye strafed back and forth. "Think you can get to [i]me[/i]?"

Around, around....okay, safe to jump. She turned, holding on with one hand with her rifle back on her back, and lunged, grabbing a broken window 's last remains of a pane on the way down. She bit her lip again to avoid the pain, beginning to climb, using the grime, the blood, to find her handholds, some trickier than others.

"Many have tried. None have managed it!"

Cocky piece of.... No, no thinking about his words, just use them to find him, to judge his position, his eye's light to find out his aim. Strafe a bit, around, grab a bar's sign to pull herself up a bit more, almost to the top.

"You'll never get me! Nobody is better than me, not the 'great Batman', and definitely not you!"

[i]Ignoring you...[/i] She was at the top, her arms reaching over the edge of the roof her was on...and she saw him, trying to find her, still not there. There was the rest of the air conditioning unit between them, as she pulled herself up in a vault and flattened her back against it, listening and watching for the light.

"You wanna try your luck? Go on then! Stop hiding like a baby and fight me!"

Did he not understand what his own stealth was supposed to do or something? Probably anger, maybe sleeplessness. Evidently not, from his shouts. She took out her handgun, ready to go in for the takedown. Two kneecap blows and a pistol whip would probably do the trick.

Finally, he was losing patience as he came close to one side. "[i]Where[/i] have you gone? Are you too scared to face me?"

There, a head. Both looked at the same time, and aimed in unison. A wrist-mounted cannon to a faceplate, an automag to a face.

Tension was in the air, high. He spoke, the slightest smirk. "Well, I'll be dipped in dogsh**."

"Classy," she deadpanned. "Why go shooting, Deadshot?"

"Famous enough to get a hitwoman on the hitman?" A slight smirk at the very slight tension of anger. "Nah, got an ex already, don't need two. Wasn't taking it that way."

"You didn't answer my question," she said. "I stopped your shot." He scowled, and she could see by the tensing of his arm that he could fire at any moment. No time to let up. "Your answer, Lawton. Now."

"And my name? Don't you dare say anything else." He was not playing around anymore. "Gee, why would a hired gun try to shoot somebody? Could it be that someone... [i]paid me[/i] to?"

Okay, he had a point, stupid question. "Who?"

"Why don't you connect the dots and find why I'm picking on Brian here?" They strafed a bit, neither lowering the gun. "He's got the money, I'm just here to collect and do my job. He pays, I work."

"You see, that's just the thing," she said. "He's [i]already[/i] paying. Whoever's operating has to be in Arkham City, right? No info gets in or out. Maybe that's your job, maybe not. So whoever's working the lines is either a crime boss, and therefore a prime candidate for the Batman to take down, or he's running this place, and Batman'll probably take him down for this incompetent method of organizing the whole thing. He's gonna bring in whoever it is, and you won't get paid, and nothing will be accomplished.

"And what about this situation we find ourselves in now? Do you want me to kill you? Are you that particular brand of sick?"

A laugh, finally. It wasn't that he was happy. He was laughing at her. "You think you know what I want? You're wrong. [i]They[/i]'re wrong. If I wanted to be dead, I would be. Why work to be so good at what I do? No, I don't want to die. I just don't care if I do.

"You guys are too precious, you know that? What did you think this one guy was going to do for you to save? What makes you one bit different from how you were yesterday? Remember? When you didn't care if you lived, died, or who got in the way as long as you won? [i]That[/i] yesterday? Now you suddenly see some, what... hope? Is that it?" The expression became completely stonefaced again. "[i]Newsflash[/i], lady. For us? For anyone like us or around us? There [i]is[/i] no happy ending. Only damn thing I know for sure."

She scowled beneath the faceplate...and reacted. No words, no more, as he moved at the same time.

Lawton's kick came up at her left leg, but she blocked it with her own right forearm, kicking his knee before a punch to his head with the same hand in an attempted pistol whip. The fist was gripped with his left, the cannon aiming toward her head... React. Instinct, no thought. She turned around quickly, elbowing him in the back of the head, [i]hard[/i], before turning back around with her hand still on his shirt and throwing him a the bipod, trying to force him toward the edge of the roof to make him give up if she could.

He turned on the spot, then, swung another punch at her. Fast, good, not perfect. She took it to the side of the head, staggering back a bit as he drew one of his other handguns. As he aimed to fire, she swung her uppercut, knocking his aim off, deflecting the bullet off of her shoulderguard and the gun skittering across the roof before turning on the spot and shooting a round at his leg again. This one was forced down, into the ground, the other of his handguns brought out, aimed to fire...

The right hand grabbed his, forced the shot wide by her right side, a left elbow coming around to the left side of her head only to be blocked by a forearm. He jumped, bashing her handgun out of her hand with a strong smash that made her take another step back, his free handgun aiming at her again...but she kicked, her pistol hitting him in the chin, knocking his aim off again so that it deflected slightly off of her helmet's top. As he staggered, her left arm grabbed his in a step forward, turning him around so that his arm was around his neck as he tried to fire his wristgun at her behind him. Due to not getting a clear shot, there was another miss, and she forced the hand down at his groin, her head out of the way out of the other wrist-cannon.

He was calm. He had finally lost, it seemed. Tough break.

With a swift motion, she unlatched the magazine in the handgun, letting it drop to the ground...and turned on the spot, bashing Deadshot's face into the bipod, forcing it to collapse, then him, unconscious.

"So much for never missing," she gasped, taking a deep breath before looking down at him. "As for why I wanted to help him? Well, you ever think that maybe someone just wants to help?" She scowled. "Lives were in jeopardy. I generally tend to think life trumps death every time. Maybe you'll figure that out eventually."

===

[i]Ten minutes later...
Under the Solomon Wayne Courthouse[/i]

"Thirty days hath September..."

Floyd Lawton groaned as he awoke. It was all a blur... He rubbed his face with his right hand....wait.

"April, June, and November."

The cannons were missing. Two out of four.

"All the rest have thirty-one."

He checked all over, looking through his clothes, the ground around...and came to another revelation.

"Except for February alone."

He was in a jail cell, probably under the Solomon Wayne Courthouse. And that meant...

"Which has twenty-eight rain or shine."

One right next to an obese inmate in the same orange jumpsuit as the other unaffiliated goons. Some of the higher buttons were undone, leaving his dirty gray undershirt visible. Three-letter abbreviations of each of the months of the year were tattooed around his bald head in a circle in succession, and he sat on the bed at the back, his right leg in a brace. Julian Gregory Day, alias "Calendar Man."

"But on leap years, twenty-nine."

The world's greatest assassin lunged at the bars, remembering everything, enraged by it all.

"She was very cordial," the holiday-themed serial criminal said. "It's almost--"

"Shut up, damnit!" Lawton shouted, then to the door out. "This isn't over! I [i]swear[/i]!"

===

[i]A block from Crime Alley[/i]

Azumi, meanwhile, was on her way out, listening in on what she could. That went well. A little bloody, but not bad.

She couldn't even see the shadow that briefly came over her as she came close to the infamous Crime Alley.

Her troubles were far from over.

[u]4 hours to Protocol 10[/u]

[b]I am aware that this is a rewrite of an old scrapbook with minor edits. However, I hope you guys liked it. Please review.[/b]