[IC] Batman: Draconian

[Polyphemus]

The protest was gathering strength. What had started out as a small handful was rapidly multiplying, especially now that the television stations had began to cover it. Minute by minute, in spite of the chill winter air, more filtered past the uncertain police blockade and joined the crowd on the steps of Wayne Tower, waving signs and shouting slogans. The homeless, the jobless, the working poor, recent immigrants- the forgotten of Gotham City.

Forty stories above, Bruce Wayne stared down at the gathering, his cold blue eyes reflecting little but mild disinterest. “They look like ants from up here,” he noted quietly.

Nearby, Tom Trigger coughed respectfully. “Boss, all due respect, but I reckon me and my brother here might feel a mite happier if you were step away from that there window,” he said with a gesture to Tad, standing next to him. The two soft-spoken twins were not only physically identical, but dressed the same in an odd combination of business and Western wear, Armani suits with bolo ties and cowboy boots. The two bodyguards even carried the same weapons- specially made single-action revolvers, two apiece.

Wayne ignored the advice of his bodyguard, continuing to look down at the protest gathering at his front door. “What exactly do they want?” he asked of the room, filled with some of his closest corporate advisers.

The men and women briefly gave one another panicked looks behind the back of their boss. Wayne was not asking rhetorically, he wanted answers and solutions. As per usual, the first to respond was CEO Tobias Whale, a hulking mountain of a man with a rumbling voice. An albino, he was frequently called “the Great White Whale” behind his back- but never, never to his face. Whale was too powerful for that. “It seems they're protesting your 'New Gotham' project, Mr. Wayne. Most of the protesters seem to be from the Narrows and Park Row- two of the prime areas selected for redevelopment.”

“We're going to improve those neighborhoods. Don't they know that?” complained Sapphire Stagg. The youngest member of the board, she was occasionally written off as naive and altruistic. Roland Daggett and Warren White in particular could be seen rolling their eyes in response to her outburst. She continued on unabated, however. “We're going to put an end to the drugs and gangsterism, bring new jobs, revitalize Gotham.”

“And in the meantime, dearie, we bulldoze their homes and churches and force them into wee little temporary housing,” replied Edmund Dorrance in his British accent. The COO of Wayne Enterprises was older, but still retained the athletic build and blond hair of youth- he looked twenty years younger than his age. Completely blind from an old war wound, Dorrance expertly made his way around with neither a dog or cane- only his dark glasses suggested his condition. “Short-sighted as it may be, they have the makings of a point there.”

“Be that as it may, let's talk damage control,” Wayne interrupted, eyes fixed on the protest below. “Sapphire, I'd like you to contact Ms. Vale at the Gazette. We need some spin, have her write some editorials in favor of 'New Gotham'. In the meantime, if these people are as blind as that- no offense, Edmund- let's distract them. Noah?”

Noah Kuttler, the CFO of Wayne Enterprises, looked up from his scribbles on a legal pad. Nicknamed “the Calculator”, Kuttler was nothing short of a mathematical and financial genius, a man who did complicated proofs simply to amuse himself. “Mr. Wayne?” he said guiltily, snapped out of his daydreaming.

“Donate a million to some charity. Cancer research, after-school programs, something that'll make good publicity.”

“A million is nothing, sir.”

“It'll sound like a lot to the rabble,” Wayne said with a dismissive wave towards the protest.

As he was giving his instructions, Tom and Tad Trigger both touched their fingers to their ears in identical gestures and listened to the instructions they received over their earpieces. Tad waited politely for Wayne to reach a stopping point before speaking up. “Boss, Lawton just let us know that he's having Victor, your driver, get something less ostentatious than the Jag. We'll be leaving quietly out the back, just in case.”

Wayne nodded, while he wasn't the least bit afraid, he understood the precautions. “One of you call Alfred at home, I want dinner waiting on the table when I return. Any further business?” he asked of the board.

Wayne never got a response. “Christ, what is that?” Roland Daggett cried, jumping up out of his seat and pointing down at the protest. Even from forty stories up, the chaos that was breaking out was easily visible. It was nothing short of a stampede as protesters fled in every direction and panic broke out.

The cause was easily visible. Over the tightly-packed crowd, a bizarre armor-clad figure flew in circles, propelled by some kind of jetpack stabilized by wide metal wings. The man hurled small explosives into the crowd which exploded into balls of flame. As the board pressed up against the windows to watch, the explosions flipped over a police car and flames began to lick at the buildings across the street.

“Alright, folks, away from the window,” Tom ordered, revolvers out and ready. The rest of the board followed his instructions, but Wayne continued to watch.

The cold indifference in his eyes had been replaced by deep interest, and maybe even satisfaction as he watched the armored man attack the protest.

[Bluetommy]

Joseph Wilson entered Wayne Tower. The elevator opened, and Joseph walked into the lobby, the protesters on the front steps getting violent, windows smashing, and doors being beaten open. Joseph threw a stinger grenade at the closest window, it smashed right through it without losing speed. The grenade detonated, pacifying the protesters closest to the building. Slade frowned, the fury of the crowds was overpowering, and the grenade wouldn't slow them for long. Wilson turned to his second in command, Jack Drake, and spoke with authority. "Drake, handle the lobby, I need to get permission from Mister Wayne before we can assault the rioters." Wilson felt a twinge of regret, these people were in the right, and he knew that, but in order to avoid the fury of Wayne's men, he needed to do this. Wilson stepped back into the elevator, ordering the secretaries to barricade the entrances with their desks. The doors closed, and Wilson's face remained a cold frown.

Wilson's head throbbed, as his body yet again rejected itself. Joseph was dying, and he was only prolonging his short life left with the medication he took. His body raged at itself about two times a day, five was the record, it was near constant pain. Turns out experiments that introduce super powers aren't very healthy on the body, who knew. If he didn't take his meds he would shrivel up like a prune because the experiments also caused advanced aging, just in case he betrayed the cause of the US army. Bruce had managed to slow it, and normal exercise reversed it, but Joseph would die eventually, he couldn't help that.

Wilson threw open the door to the room, he was wearing full riot gear, a shield and a baton in his hands, and a pistol on his hip. His squad walked in behind him, their outfits black, and their headgear red. Joseph removed his mask, his short white hair shining in the sun from the window. He turned to Bruce, his helmet tucked under his hip. "Bruce, my squad is ready to handle the protesters, just give the order and we'll attack." Joseph's gravelly voice echoed through the open room, he licked his chapped lips before speaking again. "The situation is easy to handle for our team, we're the best, and you can trust us."

[pyroman]

Joseph Carson protested with the protesters. Now, if one were to know Mister Carson, they would have assumed that he was simply there to watch the carnage unfold as the cavalry walked in, have someone a good distance away fire a bullet to give the forces their signal to start firing, and see many bodies drop. However, he was there to actually riot and protest against the destruction of these homes. Bruce Wayne could say all he wanted about moving these people into better homes, but he knew better. He knew that these homes were going to fall, these people were going to be evacuated, and rich, sick bastards like Wayne himself were going to move into fancy, luxury lofts and whatnot.

He would murder the entire Wayne Tower just to push Bruce off the roof and let the city be as it was. Crime and sin flowed through Gotham's blood, and an iron fist was only going to make the war a hell of a lot worse than it already was to control Gotham.

He stood out in the open in his normal attire, a long sleeve shirt and jacket as well because of the current weather. His car was near by if he needed to change into something else, but for the moment, it was just him, standing around with a bunch of protesters. He couldn't wait until whatever monkeys Bruce brought in to silence them actually came, then the fun could begin.

[knighthawk]

*tik-tikatika-Kssshhhshshssssk!*

"Alright you guys, and galls... Line UP!"

The assorted ten made their way to a hastily sprayed down line of paint in the seaside warehouse. The three galls and seven men wore a gamut of clothes from all over the city as they faced off with one of their bosses who had a club over one shoulder as he wore the clothes of a dockhand instead of his 3 piece suit with a baton and a ball in his hand.

"You all actually got what it takes to want to know a little more. You want in on the big scores, you got to put a bigger bet on the table. This, is a baseball bat, tool of the American game as well as completely legal to keep in your car with a ball and a glove."

The old man spun around to get full momentum as he swung the club into a quick toss of the ball in his off hand. There was a resounding crack as it sailed off across the length of the storage. "It can also launch a half pound ball four-hundred feet. This, is a grenade." At this point the ten on the line run for cover behind crates while the clearly crazy old man pops the pineapple up and sends it flying into the crates to bounce around as a dud.

"YOU NEO-NAZI-NEANDERTHAL!" One of the prospects popped off behind the safety of a crates animosity, a white boy with a large nose barely past his bar mitzvahs. Apparently he has heard some of the truth of the rumor mill as the wildcat strolled over with a tuneless whistle and tapped the side of the crate he was hiding behind."You know...I like that one, I'll keep that and you keep this." He tossed an unpulled grenade in the kids lap and watched him freak out in his own ignorance.

"If you want to be the best, then you got to work with what you have. You are caught in a raid with a SWAT officer down, you take his grenade and nightstick so you can knock the grenade off to the side for a distraction or send those teargas cans right back at them! If you want to be better than the rest you got to be able to do more than what they will, you have to work around the long odds.

We are going to start with two teams, five on five then eight to two changing up the odds each time around. We are going to start with simple buyers exchange with one of you trying to ambush the other and the others trying to prevent from being ambushed. Kane, Finger, Miller, and oneil, one team. Wolfman, Breyfogle, Morrison, Sprang, team two. You two, come with me for a second."

He pulled the siblings to the side as he other four for each side went to opposite sides of the warehouse to start the first of the twelve hour training day... Wildcat wasn't pleased with some of Selinas methods so he had taken it onto himself to try and make something of an 'elite guard' to keep her safe. These ten would become the leaders of the next ten under them in a para-military fashion in order to keep a structure in the diamond claws.

[TheUnknowable]

Red Arrow watched the demonstration below from the window of a nearby building. When some of the people in his apartment building had told him about the protest against Wayne Enterprises, Roy knew that Wayne wold try to stop them, and in Wayne's case violence was always an option. He looked up to check for an aerial assault and saw a man with a winged jetpack coming their way. Using fire against a group of protesters, Wayne? he thought. I knew you were going to try and intimidate them, but this is ridiculous.

He pulled a needle out of his pocket and was about to inject the Neo within it when an image of Ollie appeared in his mind. "You use Neo?" the memory of Ollie asked. "How could you?"

"We both know you did acid in college, and are still a pothead. Isn't it a bit hypocritical to judge me, especially when I'm doing this to be stronger, not get stoned?"

"That's completely different," Ollie said.

Roy shook his head. "Shut up, Ollie." he said to clear his head. Since the day of their fight a few weeks ago he'd heard Ollie's voice every time he was about to shoot up. Maybe hallucinations were a side effect of prolonged use? He'd have to talk to the Doc about it.

He hid out of sight while injecting the Neo, and then pulled out an arrow and, diving out the window, fired a foam arrow at the Jetpack. It should cover up the nozzles and take him out of the sky, evening the odds out. Before seeing if it hit his target, but pretty sure it would he spun around and fired a grappling claw into the building, using the cord on it to slow his fall so that he could land safely on the ground. As soon as he hit the ground he rolled, pulling out a knock-out gas arrow at the same time.

[Hillan]

The gangleader known as José Lamirez, also known as 'Ghost', the greatest drug distributor in all of New York was visiting Gotham to do business with one of the smaller cartels in Gotham, lead by a guy going by 'The Spider' A former hitman turned drug dealer, and former hired gun of Ghost. The two business partners were transfering product for cash down in one of the warehouses at the docks, having over 20 guards between the two of them. They were all armed with SMART-Guns, that had been shipped in earlier this month and was currently flooding the streets of Gotham, allowing the thugs to fire easily in the dark and even calculate bullet trajectory all in a instance, even able to tell friend from foe, making the police effectively useless against The Spider and his gang.

Outside were four guards all keeping watch, they stood on the south side of the building, one at each side of each entrance, keeping both of the doors secured for intruders. The deal would be done in about 20 minutes.

But unknown to the criminals, none of them would walk away. On the next building over, roughly 300 meters laid a man in the cover of darkness with a silenced high-powered sniper rifle with his eye in the scope. First, he aimed at the guard on the top of the building, a bullet to his chest put a end to his scouting with ease. No one had noticed the shot thanks to the silencer. The shooter turned his sights to the entrance, and said something under his breath before squeezing the trigger, the rifle jerking from the recoil as the bullet left the chamber, into the pipe and out in a muffled blast of sound. The bullet traveled the distance and found it's place through each of the four guard's head, killing them all without any pain involved. The lifeless bodies fell to the ground, and the man on the rooftop climbed down, heading towards the building.

As he did, he put on nighvision goggles over his eyes to allow him full vision. A electric charge was placed on the fusebox outside. Moving through the warehouse, he found himself next to one of the guards, a knife to the neck of the guard made the warm blood pool from his throat. There were no more lookouts in the building, only the two bosses, and their men. The masked assassin smirked under his mask, putting his hand on the cross he wore around his neck. Turning off the goggles he wore for a minute, he pulled out a flashbang grenade and lobbed it down, landing directly on the table where the two men were discussing terms. With a loud cry they both reacted as the grenade blinded them both, the bang made it impossible for them to hear a thing. Once the grenade had blown, the masked man turned the goggles back on, and triggered charge on the fusebox, making the room completely dark.

Jumping off the railing he made a somersault with two automatic pistols, corking himself in the air in a way to place bullets in all of the guards. Before landing on one knee on the table in front of the two men, still dazed from the grenade. The spider was regaining his senses, and drew a blade from his sleeve to attack the man, but he dodged and countered by whipping The Spider with his pistol, and kicking him in the chest, sending him sliding on the floor.

Turning his pistol to the man in the chair, the one known as Ghost, he began speaking. “Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life; whoever does not obey the Son shall not see life, but the wrath of God remains on him. " He spoke, Ghost was shocked looking for words as the finger was squeezing the trigger. But before the bullet was fired, The Spider kicked the gun out of his hand, and punched him in the face, sending him to the floor, giving Ghost an opportunity to run.

The spider got out his butterfly knife and swung it around "What 're ya? Some kind of religous freak trynna crack down on us fair workin' men of Gotham?" He taunted, spinning the blade in his hand. The man in the black leather hood with the cross around his neck scoffed. "Not quite. I'm more than some freak dressing up to take down the criminal underworld." He said, drawing the trenchknife he kept on his leg to fight the former hitman.

"What'eve" The Spider responded, before lashing out at the masked man, swiping up and down at the foe whom dodged the swipes of his blade with ease, using the knuckle part of his trenchknife to punch him in the face, busting his lip open and blood spurting on his face. Following the jab up with a spin kick to his thigh, the masked hero sent the bodyguard onto one knee, to stab him to death.

The blade was barried, and the vigilante found the butterfly slashing his left arm, pushing away from The Spider, he gained distance. His foe lunged at him, but grabbing a hold of the arm with his own arm, he quickly leapt onto his opponent, putting his leg around his shoulder and pulling him down onto the ground where he had him in a leglock, snapping the Spider's arm with his own arms.

The hitman was crying out as the Vigilante made a 'sshhhh' sound, quickly taking the strole off of his own neck and using it as a impromptu rope to strange the man with. The spider turned around, strole around his neck, and lifted the two into the air, feeling the oxygen leaving his brain. He slammed down hard onto the concrete, aiming to get the man around his neck off of him, but he held on.

With his hand reachnig for the vigilante's face, he felt his eyes grow heavy and turn shut, ending the sad excuse for a life. His fingers scratching against the red mask on his face. "May god have vengence on your wretched soul." The man said, pushing the dead drugdealer off of him as he took a deep breath.

Ghost had escaped, and he had to find him. It was his holy mission from the Lord. He, Jason Todd, had to send him off directly to hell.

[pyroman]

"I could just... Blow it up...?" Joseph Carson mutter to himself, pacing about as the protest continued. He then shook his head. That would be far too easy, and he couldn't get to see the look in Bruce's eyes as he broke the man and relinquished control of Wayne Enterprises to him mere moments before his death.
And all Bruce would see was a well polished red helmet. While he would be torturing Bruce, Joseph wouldn't even allow him clothes. He would give the rich man nothing, just like Bruce gave nothing to the poor. He would be in the same room filled with one way mirrors facing inward.
People could walk about and watch as Bruce Wayne was tortured to death, day after day, and all Bruce would be able to see was his own horrid reflection., decaying further and further with each dreadful passing day. He wouldn't even be able to recognize himself after a few days, and he would never be the same person again.
He'd get two meals a day. Soft foods. No utensils, no plates. After all, he needed his favorite torture doll to be at his best, so he could give out his best screams.
Ear-shattering. Dripping with desperation. Begging to be freed. And finally. That one day would come. The Red Hood would give Bruce only a paper and Pen, allowing him to sign over everything he had and in turn be freed. Bruce would sign that paper with that pen. And then that Pen would find it's way into his head through the eye socket. Bruce will be free from torture. The Red Hood will own Gotham.

[mattmanganon]

Waylon walked alongside Cassandra as they made their way through the town to her Tutor's house. "Dad, are you sure you don't need any help? You haven't been eating much lately." Cassandra commented.

"It's nothing... Sore stomach..."

"Anything to do with that nick in your scales?" she asked, staring at a scrape on the back of his hand, they both knew that it would have taken a very, very strong attack to do that kind of damage.

"I told you-"

"And I didn't believe you." she pouted. She then folded her arms and stared him in the face.

"Go on." he said to her, scratching his head. He then pointed to the door. She walked towards it, but turned back long enough to shake her head, before walking inside. "Great..." he sighed, before walking away, now he had to deal with her being annoyed at him. He began to make his way over to Selina's place, he was sure that whatever she had planned, it was going to be big.

[Polyphemus]

Bruce dispassionately heard Wilson's report over the radio one of his bodyguards held up for him, then shrugged. "I'm not sure you have the complete picture, Mr. Wilson. There seems to be firebombing going on, some kind of masked arsonist with a flying device. It looks like some kind of terrorist attack from up here."

He paused, then keyed the radio again. "Those people are probably trying to get in the building for some kind of safety. Wilson, you cannot let those people in here. This building must remain secure at all costs. If it's compromised, the arsonist will burn this entire tower down. We cannot permit that."

In the streets below, chaos reigned. The fires set by the thrown devices used by the strange man were burning uncontrollably, spreading to cars and smaller structures. Thick, choking smoke spiraled upwards. While the majority of the crowd had fled, there were still dead and helpless wounded lying on the pavement. A few of the GCPD officers on the scene emptied their sidearms at the flying figure, hovering twenty yards or so above the ground. The few rounds that hit were deflected by the man's armored costume.

However, Arsenal's arrow connected solidly, completely covering the jets on the terrorist's flying machine. Slowly, he dipped down to the street, making a rough but controlled landing. Without the ability to fly, the attacker's main strength was now his numerous incendiary grenades- one of which he now raised threateningly, clearly aiming for the terrified group of protesters who had been trying to break into Wayne Tower.

[Bluetommy]

Upon hearing Bruce's story, Wilson frowned, That's new, firebombing? Wilson walked over to the nearest window and saw the chaos unfolding on the streets below, the flames licking up into the tower, and dead protesters littering the streets. Wilson's eyes opened wide and his eyebrows raised up in surprise, realizing the danger, Wilson crouched down and put a radio up to his ear. "Drake, regroup immediately! We're entering loud, lethal force allowed, they cannot take the building!" The words hurt as they left his mouth, but this was no longer a normal riot, the arsonist confirmed that.

Wilson stood and turned to his men, or at least where they would have been, Wilson picked up his radio again, a confused look on his face. "Gold, regroup!... Repeat, gold, regroup!" His response was from Hartford, the sounds of bullet-fire and screams echoing in the background. "Drake's been hit, we need to secure the lobby!" Wilson sat silent for a second, before a grin arrived on his face, an opportunity had arrived.

The rest of scythe squad fought frantically against the rioters, making a shield wall in an attempt to keep them outside, Drake had been hit by a grenade and was heavily burned. The squad fired blindly into the smoke with what ammunition they had left, most of it having been spent getting to this point. Then a different smoke billowed through the crowd, those who came into contact with it choked and fell to the ground. Scythe squad stared with open eyes, as a man in a gas mask and brown longcoat leapt from a lamp-post into the crowds. Deathstroke swung his staff in a wide arc to force the crowds back, he then jumped into the air in a crouched position, he placed his staff over his shoulder, and fired pellets from both sides. The pellets connected with rioters, exploding into the same smoke. Deathstroke dropped into a kneel, resting on his left hand with his staff in the other. "I have to stop the riot, Wayne's men are the lesser of two evils, at least with them when innocents die, they die quickly, the arsonist is my first target." Deathstroke took off into a furious sprint, knocking anyone in his way out of it with his staff. Seeing the circle cleared by the arsonist, Deathstroke ran into it, coming face to face with him. Skidding to a stop, Deathstroke stood up slowly, placing his staff on his right shoulder. "Enough of this!" Deathstroke quickly drew a pistol and shot at the arsonist, while still standing straight.

[TheUnknowable]

Red Arrow came up and fired a gas arrow at the pyromaniac, hoping to knock him out. He followed it up with a foam arrow aimed at the man's chest and started running towards him. If he had known who his opponent would be he would be he would have brought more foam arrows. Unfortunately he was now out of them. He could use normal arrows, but...
Red Arrow stop the thought. He was a hero, and heroes don't kill their opponents unless there's no choice.
Before he got to the man with the jetpack, however, he saw another man running at him. Judging by his weapons and outfit he was a mercenary hired by Wayne. Apparently Wayne hadn't hired the man to kill the protesters after all, or he wouldn't have sent his merc bodyguard after him. Or this could all be some misguided attempt to make the people like him more, as he had someone protect them from the "terrorist". Roy wouldn't put it past Wayne.
The mercenary drew a gun and fired at the man with the fire, and Red Arrow considered letting him just kill the man. While he was sure he could get away with it, he wasn't sure if he could forgive himself. Instead he dove at the pyro man to tackle him. Once he was in handcuffs and disarmed he wouldn't be a threat to anyone anymore anyway.
He grinned at the pun as his dive hit the man.