[CENTER][IMG]https://i.imgur.com/0xjS780.png[/IMG] [u][B]ONE WEEK LATER[/B][/u][/CENTER] [b]Gotham City, The Narrows Unity Square 8:58 PM[/b] [b]"Holy shit, holy shit, he's after us! Floor it, man! Peel that sucker and spaz!"[/b] The group of idiots ahead accelerate only slightly farther from my view as I swing low, hovering barely above street level to go in for the strike. I'd intended to hit them [i]without[/i] alerting them of my presence, but there are seven of them packed into a single SUV with eyes trained in all directions. Should've taken out the tires first and dealt with the aftermath, but time was a factor. Truth is, they're a group that I've run into a couple of times in the past - with each member wearing some gaudy leather coat, a ski-mask, and a neon visor, they've taken some partial inspiration from the metahuman boom and began to call themselves "The Mutants". And typically, whenever they've surfaced to commit a string of evening robberies, they've all been coordinated just enough to be ready to deal with police interference. That's especially true after the stunt they just pulled tonight. Performing armed robberies at Gotham's Fifth and Third National Banks at the same time, convening in a third location, ditching their disguises and hoping to escape anyone's notice by switching out seperate getaway vehicles for one. Where The Mutants made their ultimate mistake was in triggering the silent alarm at Third National, acquiring my immediate attention and leading me directly to them in the midst of the two factions meeting up. Of course, rather than be smart and surrender immediately, they tried to fire upon me with lower tier semi-automatics acquired from who-knows-where and piled into the aforementioned SUV. Been chasing them from the rooftops for the last five blocks. [color=DimGray][b]"Alfred,"[/b][/color], I call out, firing another line towards an overpass. [color=DimGray][b]"Won't be making that dinner-date after all. Give the usual excuse."[/b][/color] I can hear an exasperated sigh from the other end of the earpiece I'm wearing. [i][color=8882be]"Of course. I was a fool to even believe that you and the visiting Miss Hardy would hit it off to begin with. Just as I was a fool to believe that you'd actually take your doctor's advisement to heart and rest easy for the month."[/color][/i] [color=DimGray][b]"Well, that's on you at this point."[/b][/color] Unfortunately, until Lucius Fox can figure out just how my servers were hacked a week prior by an as of yet unidentified adolescent calling themselves Oracle, The Batcycle's been put on something of a temporary reprieve so that he can update the system's hardware and install a new array of digital countermeasures. As a result, Alfred's been forced to take me to a secure alley near Robinson Park every night and drop me off, maintaining only a two-way low frequency radio communication from within the city under the guise of performing errands for his employer. It's far from the most ideal set of circumstances, I'll admit, and the idea of investing in a car has been mentioned more often than I can recall. But we're pushing ahead to the best of our abilities with as minimal amount of the technological edge required. And of course, my ribs are hurting like hell, despite being bandaged up. The waning concussion isn't doing me any favors, either. But I've got a supply of painkillers and other prescribed medications stashed in the belt, in the event that I need them. Reminds me of the first few weeks I was doing this. Experience is often said to be the best teacher, but nothing can quite prepare you for operating in the unprecedented fashion as I do. In six months, I went from trading punches with made men of the mafia in a bulletproof vest and balaclava every night to chasing thugs who believe they're clever enough to pull off "the heist of the century" in an armored suit with a cape. It feels as though I'm still learning how to do this, even with countless criminals sitting behind a cell at Blackgate due to my direct intervention. Alfred guides me as best as he can, putting my training to good use, but I know I'm not nearly on the level that he was at his prime. [i][color=8882be]"Bruce, I'm currently watching the feed given out of your cowl. Might I suggest regaining the element of surprise with a frontal attack? If you're going to get yourself killed, at least do it with some measure of skill."[/color][/i] I grunt, somersaulting into the air and activating the para-glider function in the cape. [color=DimGray][b]"Duly noted."[/b][/color] I need to get better. Devote some time to fine-tuning my skills, upgrading the armor, overseeing an expansion of the arsenal, and seeing just what more can be done with my days as Bruce Wayne. Which can be difficult, as Harvey and I spend a majority of my free time pouring through every legal tactic in the book to try and prevent a hostile takeover of Waynetech through an assumption of the role of CEO. Legally, I'm not entirely within my rights to just up and seize majority control of the shares, as the window already passed. The Five Families saw that vulnerability as a chance to descend like a pack of vultures. Now Carmine Falcone's right-hand, Sionis, is all-but-guaranteed to be taking the spot that I should have sought out months ago, were it not for my own damned lack of initiative and divided interests. I came back to Gotham to rid it of the mob's influence, not run a company. And now my enemies are turning that against me. Speaking of the mob, that supposed heist of the century? It only resulted in less than five thousand in cash being taken. The Mutants made another mistake in robbing two banks that are mob controlled, meaning that the actual cash that's deposited isn't stored on location with the exception of a small sum stored in the vaults to avoid suspicion, the rest being throwaway counterfeit dollars. The actual money of their patrons is stored offshore, meaning that The Mutants essentially just stole what's considered dummy cash. Traceable by the mob, the police, and every interested party that wants retribution. Which is why I'm making great pains to stop them now, while they're still in the clear. If these morons actually made it back to their hideout and split the earnings, each of them would be dead within the week. And there's been enough bloodshed on the streets, frankly, without some opportunistic fetishists of outdated fashion trends trying to make a name for themselves. [b]"Wait, what the fuck?! Where is he?! He was just there a second ago!"[/b], one of them shouts as I glide above. [b]"This don't feel jimmy, spud! The Bat is aces. Top aces. He don't just peel and shiv like the cops."[/b] [color=d52e2e]"Okay, I'm sorry, but... what the hell are you even saying, man? Is that English?"[/color] [b]"SHUT UP AND DRIVE!"[/b] By the time that they're convinced that they may have lost me, I descend downwards and into a calculated spiral. Pulling both ends of my cape to me, I barrel through the sky with the speed of a freight train and slam directly onto the hood of the vehicle, cracking the windshield and leaving a considerable dent where my knee is placed. Can't say that it didn't hurt, but the look on their faces is more than enough to make up for it. [color=d52e2e]"AAAAAAH!"[/COLOR] [color=ed145b]"SHIT! SHIT!"[/color] [b]"JESUS CHRIST! BERSERK HIM! BILLY HIM OFF!"[/b], the leader shouts. [b]"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, JUST SHOOT HIM!"[/b] I pull my fist back only to slam it into the windshield glass, taking advantage of the structural weakness provided by my landing's velocity impact, and reach inside. Seizing the wheel driver from the driver, who panics and leaves me to what I'm about to do while the others scramble for the weapons that they all dropped out of fright, I yank the wheel sideways and kick myself off of the hood, reactivating the paraglider just as the front-end wheels of the SUV rapidly twist to the right, sending the vehicle toppling over itself at it's current speed. It lands upside down with a sickening crash against the pavement, with all windows shattering upon hitting the street. Nothing that'll result in too serious of an injury, but it sure as hell brings them to an immediate stop. Landing atop a nearby building, I turn and watch as they all unbuckle themselves and pile out, each overtaken with mild shock. Climbing through broken glass and clutching a weapon each, they weakly look up and begin muttering a plan of action for themselves. Switching The Utility Gun's grapple mode to smoke, I aim a direct shot and fire. They all look towards the building cloud with horror. Each of them readies their weapons and begin to fire - splattering the pavement and an empty shop window with bullets. [I][B]BRAKA-BRAKA-BRAKA-BRAKA-BRAKA![/B][/I] It isn't until I've knocked the first three against the pavement that they begin to realize that I was only using the smoke to distract them. One actually faints, while the remaining three get to their feet and try to fend me off. Correction, two of them try. One immediately tosses his weapon aside and bolts for it as fast as he can. [b]"Son of a... Hey, Lang! Lang, get your ass back here! We need some fucking help here, man!"[/b] [color=DimGray][B]"You really do."[/B][/color] [IMG]https://i.imgur.com/dnJYqoW.png[/IMG] Descending on them faster than they can expect, I catch one bullet in what is mercifully the most heavily armored part of the suit. It isn't enough to even phase me as the other three shots pass through my cape, and I lock eyes with the shooter. Bringing both heels of my boot down squarely on his face, I land and roll as he falls to the ground, knocked completely out cold. His partner tries to shoot while my back is turned, but a batarang that I'd already tossed out whenever I hit the other one snatches the weapon from his hands. I look over my shoulder at him and glare, prompting him to apologetically lift both hands in surrender. [color=ed145b]"Alright. Alright. I'm cool. No need to---"[/color] Seizing him by the front of his shirt, I bring him into a hard rising elbow and smash my head into his face. He drops like a bundle of bricks to my feet. Hearing police sirens in the distance and knowing that I'm in no mood to execute a repeat performance of last week's carnage, I toss a 'Bat-Signal' against the wreckage of their car and watch as it lights up the night's sky. Should lead the GCPD right to these clowns before they can regain consciousness, not to mention buy me a little time to catch the straggler. Lang, I believe, is what they referred to him as. [color=DimGray][b]"Alfred, I need your help. Can't use Ace to comb through the GCPD database, for obvious reasons. But I'm willing to risk letting you do it to give me a potential lead."[/b][/color] [I][color=8882be]"Certainly. And who shall I be searching for, should this individual be unfortunate enough to cross your immediate path?"[/color][/I] [color=DimGray][b]"First name unknown, last name of Lang. Could be an alias, but I'm doubtful. Probably has a list of priors. Unlike their other attempt, The Mutants' heist at Fifth National was performed without a single alarm triggered. And I'm betting that Lang is the reason why."[/b][/color] [i][color=8882be]"And you're betting this based of what evidence, exactly?"[/color][/i] Switching The Utility Gun's primary function back to it's original state, I fire a grapple line towards a gargoyle overlooking the area. [color=DimGray][b]"Seems the type. Non-violent, chosen to be the getaway driver. Didn't struggle when I pulled the wheel. Only an accomplished thief doesn't waste their efforts when faced with opposition. They typically try and avoid conflict."[/b][/color] [i][color=8882be]"I see. Might I ask, lad, when were became the expert on criminal psychology?"[/color][/i] [color=DimGray][b]"When I had a teacher as stern as you."[/b][/color] [i][color=8882be]"Ah, yes. I did drill you rather hard on that one, didn't I?"[/color][/i] Smirking at that, I ascend into the rooftops and leap over the gargoyle, gliding my way towards a nearby billboard. Latching myself onto it, I utilize my standard heat signature lenses to scan the streets ahead. Lang's made it to an alleyway near Park Row. Immediately, I feel myself begin to tense up. Park Row, now known as Crime Alley. Christened that after a single, yet gruesome mugging gone bad. I should know because I was there. My fist bawls up tightly as I take a deep breath, fighting back an immediate surge of unpleasant memories. Doesn't matter what the place used to be, or what it means. It's the escape grounds of a fugitive from the law, right now. I have to push it all aside, if I'm to put an end to this. He doesn't think I noticed, but Lang scooped up a bag of the dummy cash before he left the scene. Which means I now have to confront him. He's a marked man if I leave him to the police. [i][color=8882be]"I've found a match, Bruce. Your Mr. Lang seems to fit the bill of a one Scott Edward Harris Lang, formerly stationed out of Palm Springs, Florida. You were correct in his assumption of priors, aswell as the offenses all being of the non-violent capacity. He was sentenced to three years at San Quentin State Prison in California, his home state, before being released on good behavior."[/color][/i] My mind refocuses on the situation at hand, hearing the information read aloud. [color=DimGray][b]"Florida. California. Then why the hell is he in Gotham?"[/b][/color] [i][color=8882be]"Supposedly, employment. After a string of failed jobs throughout the country, he was last working as a security guard for, get this. The central office for Waynetech Industries. He was terminated just last week."[/color][/i] Hearing that, my confusion over the suspect's plight only grows. If Lang were employed by Waynetech as security, he would've had direct access to a series of some of the most advanced technology in the tri-state area. Pulling off a heist there would've been considerably easier, not to mention that he could've done it solo and for a much heftier profit. Why join up with The Mutant Gang just to perform a bank robbery? [color=DimGray][b]"If he was an employee of Waynetech, then I'm about to re-evaluate the terms of his termination."[/b][/color] [IMG]https://i.imgur.com/8MFVfd3.png[/IMG] [color=DimGray][b]"If I'm going to lead the company, I might aswell start from the bottom."[/b][/color] [b]Gotham City, The Narrows Park Row 9:10 PM[/b] [color=d52e2e]"No. Dammit. No, no, no, no..."[/color] Scott Lang pulled the mask from his face as he jumped to reach a fire escape dangling just a few inches too high above his grasp. Frantically looking around the alleyway for some trash to build a makeshift booster platform, he began digging through the garbage and kneeled down to sort out the bigger items from the smaller ones. He could hear police sirens in the distance, and the now very-much-confirmed-to-be-real Batman was likely on his tail. The one thing that Lang had told himself in agreeing to do this stupid job was that he wouldn't go back to jail. The plan seemed foolproof, and he liked the odds of success once everything was laid out for him by the robbery's organizing party. But there had always been something shifty about that dude, Scott thought to himself. Creepy little man who preferred to be called 'The Clock King', for whatever reason, timing each method of extraction down to the very second that it was supposed to be executed. And on his team's end, they had followed the instructions to the letter. The other team hadn't been as lucky. They'd messed up and triggered a silent alarm, prompting some sort of skirmish that had made them late. Clock King wasn't happy, but had given them the word to proceed anyway. Part of Scott wondered if The Bat was on the mob's payroll, given how fast that he showed up once they all met to exchange vehicles and head to the rendezvous point. It was the only way to explain how they could've encountered the vigilante so soon after robbing a pair of banks under the thumb of The Five Families. Producing a handful of garbage that wouldn't so much as lift a mouse as a full adult male, Lang tossed it aside in frustration. [color=d52e2e]"C'mon, you damn garbage! Work with me, here! I'm not asking for the world! Just, y'know, something to give me at least six inches of vertical!"[/color] Growling to himself, Lang stood up and immediately went for the bag of cash. He'd have to keep going on foot. Which was crazy, given the coverage that this area was about to receive, but it was his only alternative. As Lang reached down at the bag, a small grappling hook embedded into it's handle and snatched it from his grasp. Lang spun around in a panic and found the person that he least wanted to see staring back at him from the other end of the alley. [color=d52e2e]"You! Don't move, you... Bat-person, you!"[/color] Scrambling for any sort of weapon, Scott reached into his pocket and produced... a bananna. Batman raised an eyebrow. Lang immediately threw it to the ground. [color=d52e2e]"See if you can catch me without slipping on that, huh? Huh, big guy?"[/color] The Dark Knight looked down at the partially crushed fruit, then looked back at Lang. Master thief didn't exactly entail a degree of high intelligence. [color=DimGray][b]"Scott Lang. Why are you in Gotham?"[/b][/color] Lang's eyes widened. [color=d52e2e]"Holy crap, you knew my name. Are you psychic? Is that your mutant power?"[/color] Batman stepped forward, agitated. [color=DimGray][b]"Answer the question."[/b][/color] Lang tried to speak, but stopped. He knew that if he replied with another dumb joke, it would only guarantee that the vigilante's fist would separate part of his jaw from his skull. Sighing to himself, Lang dropped to his knees and stared to the ground. [color=d52e2e]"Ah, dammit. Just arrest me. I'm not getting outta this one."[/color] Batman stared him down as he approached. [color=DimGray][b]"You were working for Waynetech prior to this week. Security detail. You were terminated from that position despite not committing any theft or breaching your contract, despite your record. I want to know why."[/b][/color] Lang looked up at the vigilante, confused. [color=d52e2e]"Uh... I mean, wait. Why do you care?"[/color] Batman looked off as the sirens grew closer. [color=DimGray][b]"Call it a curiosity."[/b][/color] Lang furrowed his brow, but not enough for The Batman to catch on. [color=d52e2e]"Well... I guess if you must know, I got fired because I didn't like the ethics of the guy they want to put in charge. His secretary informed me that I was supposed to allow a couple of his guys through the main entrance, even though he doesn't run the place yet and they didn't have clearance. And I said no. Two days later, I got my pink slip."[/color] Being a proponent of ethics is highly ironic coming from a man who just aided in a double robbery, but The Dark Knight kept that thought to himself. He looked Lang in the eyes, and sensed the fear. Not of him, but of what would happen if he were to go back to jail. Sweat was beading down his forehead, despite him making no effort to resist capture. [color=d52e2e]"Look, man. I know you don't wanna hear it, but I really tried my best to stay clear of all this. Even testified in court against the conspirators in the robbery that landed me in prison. But I got a daughter, now, and I couldn't just leave her and her mom without alimony all because my jackass self opposed some douchebag in an Italian suit."[/color] Batman remained silent for a moment. Then took the bag of money, unzipped it, and let the cash fall into a crumpled mess against the pavement. Lang looked at it, shocked by the unexpected action. [color=DimGray][b]"You stole counterfeit dollars, Mr. Lang. Nothing that would've set you up for the foreseeable future."[/b][/color] Scott's eyes closed, as he realized that he'd been an even bigger jackass than he previously realized. [color=d52e2e]"I guess I trusted the wrong group of people."[/color] [color=DimGray][b]"Yes. But worse, you relented and placed yourself back into their cirlce."[/b][/color] Surprisingly, however, Batman's tone grew considerably less hostile. [color=DimGray][b]"What's your daughter's name?"[/b][/color] [color=d52e2e]"Uh... Cassie. Her name is Cassie, Bat... sir. Or Bat-dude. Whatever you want me to call you."[/color] Reaching into the recesses of his belt, Lang expected a taser or some sort of metal projectile to be in the vigilante's hand to knock him down. Instead, he produced a business card. Hesitantly, Lang reached out as Batman handed it to him. Inspecting it, the name of the business read Earl's Body Shop. [color=DimGray][b]"What do you know about cars, Lang?"[/b][/color] Scott stood up, immediately unsure of what this even was. [color=d52e2e]"I, uh. I know a little bit. Enough to get by."[/color] Batman narrowed his eyes. [color=DimGray][b]"Make no attempt to contact the people that organized this robbery. If the police find you before the night is over, tell them that you were coerced. Then tell them everything."[/b][/color] Turning around, to Scott's astonishment, The Caped Crusader remained standing for a moment. [color=DimGray][b]"Do this, and I can put in a good word for you with Earl. He's a good man. Doesn't care about your priors as long as you put in the work. And you'll be guaranteed a living salary."[/b][/color] Scott's jaw dropped, looking again at the card. [color=d52e2e]"Are... are you serious? You're seriously doing for me?"[/color], Lang asked. [color=d52e2e]"But, uh, why? What did I do to deserve this? I'm just a two-bit thief."[/color] [color=DimGray][b]"Exactly. You didn't fire a single bullet throughout that entire incident. You didn't kill anyone. You simply made a bad choice when put into a desperate situation. What you did was wrong, but... I've been making plenty of mistakes myself, lately."[/b][/color] Lang raised an eyebrow, unaware of the leading news story of Gotham for the past few days about a masked vigilante who had brought down an open conflict against the GCPD in the midst of a series of spectators. The guilt of that incident still weighed on The Dark Knight's heart, and he didn't want to simply lash out again. Not against those who didn't likely deserve it. [color=d52e2e]"I don't know what to say."[/color], Lang responded, rubbing the back of his head. [color=d52e2e]"I don't even know how to begin to thank you for this. This changes... wow. This changes everything for me."[/color] Glaring over his shoulder, Batman made it clear that this act of lenience wasn't without it's share of skepticism. Should Lang mess up again and return to his old ways, there wasn't a doubt in either man's mind that The Bat would be coming for him. [color=DimGray][b]"Just don't do it again. The next time you have an impulse, think of Cassie. You're better off to her on the outside."[/b][/color] [color=d52e2e]"I..."[/color] Scott nodded, looking down at the business card a third time and memorizing the number. He allowed himself a small grin, realizing that this really was the second chance that he'd been waiting for. [color=d52e2e]"I will. Thank you, Mr. Bat-guy."[/color] By the time Lang looked back up, Batman had disappeared. The grin even wider on his face, Lang looked towards the sky and saw the vigilante's logo hovering against the clouds. [color=d52e2e]"Geez. That is [i]so[/i] unbelievably cool."[/color]