Dick disabled the driver of the car just as I swept a leg underneath one of the other men. His name's James "Jimmy Legs" Trafficante. I knew everything there was to know about him, from the two mistresses he had to the amount of back taxes he owed to the IRS, even down to his bad knees. Jimmy Legs visited Gotham General nearly four times over the past ten years because his left knee. It had a tendency to dislocate if enough pressure was applied to it, everything from falling down a flight of stairs in 2011 to horsing around with his children in 2005 caused the knee to slip out of socket. A steel-toed boot to the appropriate place should do the trick quite well.

I jammed the heel of my boot into the back of his knee and heard it pop out of place. Jimmy Legs yelled, the screech drowning his cries out. The pain in his ears and knee should keep him out of the fray, but I had to make sure. I kicked his pistol out of his reach and turned to Toots himself. He tried to aim his gun in my direction, but the loud sonic pulse kept his vision blurry and unfocused. He got a shot off, a shot that whizzed by me and into a car behind me. Growling, I pounced on Toots and slapped the gun away. Toots swung with a free hand and hit me flush in the temple with a punch. The blow bounced off my protected cowl but still shook me a bit. I could slug it out with Toots, but it would take longer than I would have liked to disable him. Instead, I feigned pain and fell backwards, luring him into a fight. Toots sensed weakness and wound up for another punch while I tripled tapped my right index and ring fingers together to generate a charge.

He charged forward and swung again. I pushed forward, blocked with my left, and shoved my right index finger against his face. The micro taser charge loaded in my glove kicked on and sent a bolt of electricity coursing through Toots' body. He collapsed to the ground, jerking and spitting loudly. The taser was strong enough to make him lose consciousness for a few seconds, and keep him dazed for at least five minutes. Two men left. The sonic pulse on the wrecked car started to lose power, its squeal growing softer and softer. I looked over towards Dick, who was squaring off with another man. I turned to the last mobster still standing as our advantage began to erode away.