[CENTER][IMG]https://i.imgur.com/0xjS780.png[/IMG][/CENTER] [b]Gotham City, The Narrows The Torres Househould 1:10 AM[/b] [b][color=92278f]"Thanks. I'm gonna starve because of you, asshole."[/color][/b] Slamming the door of the taxi after paying the outrageous fare, Jessica Jones brought the collar of her jacket over her neck and looked up, annoyed as the flickering streetlamp began to give the run-down neighborhood a perpetually hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach. She really didn't want to do this, but she'd already known that before she left. It was the same reaction that she had every time another case landed on her desk. Go ahead and pick flight instead of fight, she would often hear herself say in her own head. But Jessica wasn't someone that paid attention to her own sense of need, and couldn't exactly trust her own instinct anymore. Even as the gentle breeze from the Gotham Harbor brushed against her skin, she felt a chill run down her spine and noticed that one of her hands began fidgeting. Post-traumatic stress coming in at the most inopportune time. Biting her bottom lip, she fought through her initial hesitance and pushed the gate forward that lead to the dimly-lit house ahead. Michelle Torres wasn't a suspect in any murder case or a hapless airheaded idiot who was practically breaking Jones' door down to dig up dirt on a cheating spouse. She frankly wasn't anything that special, to be honest. But she did have one particular credit to her name that had caught Jessica's attention - an ex-husband with a rap sheet a mile long. Just a little over three hours ago, the private investigator had brought a bent shell casing to BMB's Pawn Shop in order to get a sketchy character with mob connections, Vinnie Valestra, to use his crooked informants at the GCPD to run the print of the original owner. Though the police didn't know it and likely never would, the shell would be a hell of a lead in the ongoing investigation on the assassination attempt against District Attorney Harvey Dent. And the results of the fingerprint analysis were delivered far more expediently than Jessica had even dreamed. They belonged to a man named David Reed. Looking into his history, it had taken no time at all for a detective of Jessica's level of experience to discover that Reed was actually one of many aliases used by the same man, including Mikey Rosenbaum, Thomas Kenny, Slater Christiansen, and Willis Smith - indeed, Jessica had bemoaned, like the rapper-turned-actor. The actual identity of all of these was a former sniper for the U.S. Marines, Floyd Lawton. And Michelle Torres had one hell of a history with the man, including a brief marriage that had produced one daughter, a divorce that was signed by both parties soon after, and a continually re-upped restraining order filed with the Gotham City Circuit Court. Torres had easily won full custody of their daughter and made The Narrows a permanent residence, working days at a local strip club. Jessica was hardly in a position to judge, given that she made her own living by professionally spying on other people, but it had clearly produced the kind of life that could only barely sustain herself and the kid, based off of the poorly constructed house that she was now stepping onto the front porch of. Jones shot a glance towards the gutters as debris fell upon her approach, signaling the decrepit state that the house was in. But for The Narrows, Jessica had to admit, it was at least a solid eight. Opening the screen door, Jones firmly knocked twice, making sure not to pound loud enough to wake the neighbors - or knock the door off of it's hinges. The truth is, she hadn't come here to critique the woman's living situation or parenting techniques. She was here solely out of concern for the safety of the daughter, because if Lawton was in town and taking shots at civil servants at public rallies, Jessica considered that a serious violation of the restraining order. It was probably best if Torres and her daughter left town, she thought, until this mess was sorted out. The police certainly weren't about to help, given they had pinned the entire thing on some mythical caped weirdo who apparently got off on beating mobsters to a pulp. The door cracked open after some brief movement from inside, revealing a confused, half-asleep Michelle Torres staring back at Jessica. [b][color=92278f]"It's Ms. Torres, right?"[/color][/b] Torres looked around, clearly looking for any cops that may have been shadowing the mysterious young woman she didn't know. [color=fdc68a]"Y-Yes?"[/color], Torres responded, quizzically. [color=fdc68a]"I'm sorry, but it's [i]really[/i] late, so if you're not a cop, I'm going to have to ask you to..."[/color] Jessica placed her hand on the door, forcefully ensuring that it wasn't shut in her face. [b][color=92278f]"Believe me, I get that. I just need a moment of your time. Hopefully after that, we'll never have to see eachother again."[/color][/b] Reaching into her jacket, Jessica produced a grainy photograph of a shifty-looking caucasian male in sunglasses and a pencil-thin mustache stepping off of a plane. The date of the photograph indicated that it had been taken just a few years ago, before Lawton had officially made both the FBI and SHIELD's Most Wanted lists, respectively. Handing it to Torres, Jessica noted the immediate look of shock wash over the woman's face as she recognized the visage of her ex-husband. [color=fdc68a]"Oh my god. Oh my [i]god[/i], that's..."[/color] [b][color=92278f]"Floyd Lawton. Your psycho ex-husband, the one that you legally told to fuck off for what I'm sure is a [i]litany[/i] of great reasons. I know. And I'm here to tell you that I have reason to believe he's back in Gotham."[/color][/b] Torres looked back up at Jessica, horrified at the news. [color=fdc68a]"And who are you, exactly?"[/color] Jones sighed, irritated that she was even still a concern. The right response should've been to immediately flee upstairs and begin to pack. [b][color=92278f]"I'm a private investigator. A few hours ago, I had prints ran on a shell casing that matched Lawton's to a tee. That same shell casing housed a bullet that was intended for Harvey Dent, the guy on the news that was shot three nights ago. I can say without hesitation that I was only being facetious when I said 'I have reason to believe', because your ex is definitely in Gotham. And I can [i]also[/i] say without hesitation that you're in danger as long as he remains here."[/color][/b] Narrowing her eyes, Jessica leaned in closer. [b][color=92278f]"Now. Any further questions, or are you going to start booking the next flight to Coast City? Because if I were you, lady, I'd [i]definitely[/i] pick the latter."[/color][/b] Clearly panicked, Torres turned back and immediately ran for the stairs leading to the above bedrooms. [color=fdc68a]"ZOE! HONEY, WAKE UP!"[/color] Jessica stood in the open doorway and crossed her arms against her chest, looking back at the neighborhood once again. A rottweiler that was chained to a tree infront of one of the nearby houses growled at her. Jones rolled her eyes. [b][color=92278f]"Owning an attack dog in a neighborhood with kids in it. Nice."[/color][/b] But as Jessica turned back around and made her way into the entryway of the home, she felt something... odd. A sensation that had been there since she'd arrived at the home, but dull enough to ignore up until this moment. It felt for a second like she had been drugged. Grabbing at her forehead, trying desperately to concentrate, Jessica looked in a mirror attached to the wall on the immediate right of the doorway. Immediately, she noticed something seriously off. Her eyes were brown. So how in the hell were they suddenly glowing a florescent green? [b]Gotham City, The Narrows The Torres Househould 1:15 AM[/b] [color=Gray][b]"Ace. Give me a single block-wide scan of the surrounding area."[/b][/color] Ensuring that The Batcycle is hidden from sight in the alleyway that I've parked it in, I throw a line up the side of a nearby house for sale that sits just across the street from the home belonging to Deadshot's ex-wife. As I was driving into the area, I noticed a disgruntled cab driver leaving this district. Makes me think I shouldn't take any chances on this, as the car making rounds this far out of the way in the early morning hours signifies that Poison Ivy's assassins could already be here. Scaling the wall, I allow Ace to do it's work by giving me a series of working heat signatures and structural schematics from the Gotham Housing District. This area is run-down, like most in The Narrows, but there are still a few housing plans still on file. Including the one for the home of Michelle Torres, the mother of Lawton's child. I left the bastard dangling from a street lamp infront of the building where our final encounter took place, and lit up a Bat-Signal for the police to find. They're ingenious little devices that Lucius Fox invented for overseas conflicts, as an advanced form of the common distress flare. Miniature in size, but able to produce a light source big enough to mimic a spotlight that travels off of the clouds. Adding the Bat to them was Alfred's input, as it gave a clear message that the GCPD wouldn't be able to look away from. I've taken to leaving them at the scene of every criminal activity I dispatch, given that they're relatively easy to reproduce and virtually untraceable. Deadshot should be in police custody within the hour, if he isn't already. Which makes my timing here even more perilous. Ivy threatened to murder the child if Lawton didn't successfully carry out his assassination of Harvey, who's on a flight out of the city by now and completely safe. I don't know if Poison Ivy's metahuman abilities extend as far as the plane itself, but it's very doubtful if she were willing to go for the child instead of attack Harvey directly through a close associate. There must be some kind of limitation to her power, but I'll have another night to contend with it. Right now, my only concern is that Zoe Lawton and her mother remain alive. [b][color=fff200]Scan completed, Mr. Wayne.[/color][/b] Perched atop the house's roof, making sure to remain inconspicuous by hiding in the corner not covered by any light source, I peer ahead at the house in question and find three heat signatures bouncing off of the image that Ace provided me. But it's strange. Three individuals, all of which are female, ranging from someone of a child's height to two grown adults. A friend to Torres, perhaps? Or a relative. I zoom in through the cowl's lenses on what the two adults are doing, because by all accounts, the child appears to be asleep. One of the features I'm hoping to incorporate into my suit is an advanced survellience microphone, because I can't hear anything coming from inside. [color=Gray][b]"Ace. I need you to..."[/b][/color] Just as I'm about to order the program to cut the power to the home, in order to give me an adequate way of sneaking in before an assassin can arrive, my eyes widen as I witness one of the adult women strike down the second and toss her into an adjacent wall. The impact sound of which is loud enough to be heard from outside of the house. Zoe Lawton awakens, obviously panicked, as the attacker ascends up the stairs in a slow, methodical manner. My fists tighten in a rage as I produce The Utility Gun and set it to a grapnel. This is the assassin. Someone that earned Ms. Torres' trust, albeit briefly, only to attack the minute that the woman's guard was let down. [color=Gray][b]"Cancel that order. Dammit..."[/b][/color] Firing off the grapple line to hit the top scaffolding of the roof, I immediately leap off of the house across the street and take out a large folding batarang, attaching it across from the steel cable and effectively rendering the grapple a makeshift zip-line. Leading with the soles of my boots, I target the upstairs window just above the stairs leading to the second floor and brace for impact. [IMG]https://i.imgur.com/TEOxoK3.png[/IMG] Glass shards fly in every which direction as I spread my cape and descend upon the mystery attacker, who glares up at me. To my surprise, she doesn't seem shaken by my sudden appearance, and reaches up to grab me by the heel just as I go in for a flying kick. She succeeds, knocking me directly into the same wall that Michelle Torres hit. The screams of Zoe Lawton echo throughout the house as I fall to the floor, hitting the wooden panel as a black boot steps infront of me. Slightly dazed, I look up at the attacker and prepare for a fight --- only to be thrown entirely off guard. It's the woman. The one that appeared on the digital recreation of Deadshot's original failed attempt on Harvey's life. Alfred had given me a name and some previous arrest warrants from the New York City Police Department's files, but to see her here now - and to see the look in her eyes, glowing an unnaturally brilliant green with dilated pupils, indicating some form of hypnotism - throws me completely off guard. [color=Gray][b]"...Jones?"[/b][/color], I ask, partly out of breath. [color=Gray][b]"Jessica Jones?"[/b][/color] Jones responds by reaching down and grabbing me by the throat, lifting me with ease. Her grip is unbelievably strong and starts to bend the armor plating built around my neck, proving the theory that she's metahuman. But if she's in the thrall of Ivy, as her appearance would suggest, I'm not dealing with the same woman that dove into the path of the bullet meant for Harvey. Instead, I'm fighting the person who ordered the hit in the first place [i]through[/i] Jones' body, with her level of power intact. To say that this isn't a welcome surprise would be a grave understatement. [b][color=92278f]"[/color][color=8dc73f]And what do we have here? A bat, nesting out of it's roost?[/color][color=92278f]"[/color][/b], a voice calls out to me from Jones' lips, a combination of human and inhuman. [b][color=92278f]"[/color][color=8dc73f]I've heard of you. The Batman, is it? They say that you're a dangerous man. But I'm certain that you're not dangerous enough to survive a beating from dear Miss Jones, so your interference here is [i]most[/i] unfortunate. For you, of course.[/color][color=92278f]"[/color][/b] Clearly, my suspicions that it's Ivy that I'm dealing with were correct. Slamming me against the wall, nearly giving me a concussion, Jones' grip against my throat only grows tighter. I grit my teeth and struggle, distracting Jones and Ivy from when I reach down into my belt. I'm at a bit of a disadvantage. While I know that Jessica Jones has some degree of superhuman ability, I don't know exactly [i]what[/i] she can do beyond deflect bullets and utilize superhuman strength. For all that I know, she could incinerate me with a thought. Or her eyes, like they claim about the flying man from Metropolis. But I'm willing to bet that she's not [i]completely[/i] invulnerable. [color=DimGray][b]"Funny,"[/b][/color], I wheeze. [color=Gray][b]"I was just thinking the same thing about her."[/b][/color] Sticking a detachable taser that outputs roughly anywhere between five and ten-thousand volts to the wrist of the same arm that Jones is using to try and crush my windpipe, I slam a hidden trigger built into my other gauntlet and watch as the electricity produces an immediate reaction. Jones winces in pain and drops me, allowing me to catch my breath. But to my surprise, her tolerance of pain ensures that it only lasts for a few seconds. She immediately throws a fist directly at my face and I dodge it, leaving it to slam directly through the wall. If I hadn't ducked, it's likely that she would've been able to smash through my skull and out the other end. To the right of me, I notice a terrified little girl looking out into the hallway from behind a partially closed door. I want to tell her to run, but I'd rather that Jones and Ivy both continue to focus on me. So I do something that I immediately come to regret - I leap up and punch Jones directly in the face with a left hook. The pain in my fist is nearly unbearable, as I writhe back and try to fight it off. [b][color=92278f]"[/color][color=8dc73f]What's wrong, little bat?[/color][color=92278f]"[/color][/b], Ivy taunts once again. [b][color=92278f]"[/color][color=8dc73f]Have I chosen a body too tough for the pathetic male to be able to beat? That must be quite the inconvenience.[/color][color=92278f]"[/color][/b] I growl, angrily. [color=Gray][b]"There are other ways to inflict pain."[/b][/color] Producing a set of smoke pellets and bombs filled with tear gas, I toss them at Jones and throw up my cape to protect myself from the blast. She's coated in an immediate fog of irritants, blinding her senses to any oncoming attacks. I can only hope it lasts long enough for me to follow up with something effective. Sweeping Jones out from her legs, I watch as she falls down the stairs with a sickening thud. Immediately back up on her feet without so much as a scratch, I produce The Utility Gun once again and remove the hilt, attaching one end of the line to a grandfather clock before firing the hook into the first floor. Pulling the trigger, I leap out of the way as the grandfather clock flies into the air and smashes into Jones, sending her staggering back. Using the opportunity to get to the child's room, I allow my appearance to scare the young girl into backing up before shutting the door between us. Slamming my fist against the door, I call out to her. [color=Gray][b]"GET TO SAFETY! I'LL PROTECT YOUR MOTHER, BUT YOU HAVE TO HIDE RIGHT NOW!"[/b][/color] Alfred says I've never been good with kids. Can't imagine why. By the time I've turned back, Jones is vaulting towards me at a speed that's inhuman. I somersault over her and allow her to use her own velocity to smash through the staircase and the front of the house itself. It sounds less like a crash and more like a sonic boom. Immediately rushing to the unconscious Ms. Torres, I check for a pulse and am relieved to find that she's still very much alive. Suffering an open head wound, but otherwise find. [color=Gray][b]"Ace, contact Alfred. Tell him to dispatch an ambulance to this address."[/b][/color] [b][color=fff200]Certainly, Mr. Wayne.[/color][/b] Turning to face the massive hole that Jones just made through the front of the house, I vault over the staircase and land on a ground level. To tell the truth, I'm completely out of my element with this. I've trained to fight human monsters. Mobsters, drug pushers, hitmen. This is beyond anything like that, and I don't have a working plan. Improvisation is my only option, and I can't say that it'd be a desirable approach to any high-crisis situation. Activating the live tasers in the knuckles of my gloves, I smash them together to produce a current. Then manually up the voltage to something that would ordinarily be lethal to a normal human through a switch on my belt. For Jones, it shouldn't do any lasting damage. But it may keep me alive long enough to do something I wasn't prepared to do going into this. Talk her through Ivy's control, and hope that she has the willpower to fight it off herself. [b][color=8dc73f][color=92278f]"[/color]I'LL MOUNT YOUR HEAD ON A SPIKE FOR THAT, WORM![color=92278f]"[/color][/color][/b] The sparks fly off of my fists, as I take a running start out of the building. Some would consider this suicide. I'd like to think of it as a learning experience. [color=Gray][b]"You're certainly welcome to try."[/b][/color]