[center][img]http://baku-panda.org/images/absolute_robin.png[/img][/center][COLOR=steelblue][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]G O T H A M C O U N T Y[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][sup][color=goldenrod]Abandoned Farmstead[/color][/sup][/INDENT][/INDENT] The former Boy Wonder managed to hobble his way across the open yard, pressing his back against the side of the barn. Reaching down with his left hand, the weathered acrobat probed the knee cap. Pain shot through the joint as he tried to massage the tension there. He was going to have a hell of a time moving around with that leg, which was part of what had prompted him to give up the Nightwing identity in the first place. Peering out from around the side of the structure, Dick surveyed the farmstead. Across, in the farm house proper, he could see lights on. Silhouettes in the windows suggested that a handful of people were mulling about, throwing back drinks. Probably the [i]higher ups[/i] of the pecking order. The barn that Dick was scouting was the meth lab. As Dick crept down the side of the barn, he stayed out of sight of a guy who stepped out for a smoke. The generator supplying power was out the back. The alarm started from within the moment that the generator cut out. The doors to the barn came rolling open, as voices inside complained of the darkness within. The smoker was the first to arrive at the generator, followed shortly after by a handful of others stepping out to check on the power. Meanwhile, a shadow passed unnoticed from the rooftop overhead. Edging out from the ledge of the roof, the grizzled acrobat looked around the dimly lit inside of the barn. Rows of tables for cooking up product were juxtaposed by the side where the product was packaged for distribution. Reaching down to his belt, Dick withdrew a batarang. Unfolding the weapon, he depressed a button in the center to activate the small explosive charge set there. Most of the people had filtered from out of the barn, drifting along the peripheral. It gave him the perfect opportunity to hit the lab itself. It was a hook shot. Flying in through the top loft, arcing down toward one of the center tables. The batarang gave a flashbang as it struck the table. It wasn’t meant to be a powerful charge, but the spark was enough to set off the volatile chemicals around it. The fireball blew out both ends of the barn, sending men diving for the dirt as loud curses howled through the air. Several went running for the cars, where they discovered their friends unconscious and the tires slashed. The fire ought to get the local sheriff’s attention, but just in case Dick decided to force fate a bit. Flipping open his burner phone, the man dialed 9-1-1 and then casually dropped the phone into the bushes. The rest ought to take care of itself. Dick just hoped that Toyboy could take care of himself until Dick could figure just how the hell he was going to get out of here on a bum leg. Let alone navigate a different route back to the main road, so that he could get back to the highway and venture down to the storage facility. [center][color=black]+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +[/color][/center][b][color=#9fc5e8]Gotham Corridor Self Storage[/color][/b] [color=#9fc5e8]Bludhaven, New Jersey | [i]Present Day[/i][/color] [b][i][color=#ffd700]“Psychopath!”[/color][/i][/b] The doll-faced man staggered away from the black-and-red costumed child before him. The short cape framed the boy’s slight frame as he squared off with the much larger figure that was still framed against the door frame behind him. Anton Schott turned. The camera lens irises holding the reflected image of the man pivoting on his back foot as he prepared to make his retreat. Toyboy’s hand flew to the utility belt that encircled his wait. That much of the Robin outfit was actually vintage, being the same belt that Dick had worn as the original Boy Wonder. The doll drew the grapple gun from the compact holster that was attached to the belt. With a single, smooth motion, Toyboy leveled the launcher and pulled the trigger. The line whipped outward, striking against Schott’s leg as he brought it down to take that first step. As the grapple wrapped around the man’s legs, he stumbled. Seizing hold on the line with his free hand, the doll pulled back on the grapple line. The coiled line around Schott’s legs snapped taut. His body weight still shifting forward with the momentum of his halted flight, the self-proclaimed Dollmaker went down hard to the floor. A feral screech cut through the air, as the torch-armed girl came barreling at Toyboy with everything that she had. The girl’s body slammed into the costumed doll, taking him back a step. As she jumped onto his back, the two other doll-faced boys followed suit. The grapple line and attached launcher gun went sliding across the floor as it fell from the doll’s grip. His hands were otherwise occupied, fumbling to steady him as the four children spilled onto the floor, with the Toy Wonder pinned beneath a dogpile. Retracting a hand to the utility belt, the doll used two fingers to fish out a gas capsule. Squeezing that between his thumb and forefinger, a sharp hiss gave the only warning before a haze of white-ash smoke shot out from the pile of children, slowly dissipating away. The three small forms went limp almost immediately, allowing Toyboy the freedom of being able to gently push them off. When he’d picked himself back up from the floor, Schott was gone. Toyboy debated pursuing him. A momentary calculus that arrived at its answer in less than a second, but for a robot it was nonetheless a rather lengthy debate. In the end, the children in the cages took priority. [center][color=black]+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +[/color][/center] [i]“Nine One One.”[/i] [i]“...hello?”[/i] [i]“Hello. Are you okay, sweetie?”[/i] [i]“No.”[/i] [i]“Are there any adults there with you?”[/i] [i]“No, but we’re worried that the bad man might come back again.”[/i] [i]“Who is ‘we’, sweetie? Are there other kids there with you?”[/i] [i]“Yeah, we were all on the school bus together when the bad man came.”[/i] [i]“Sweetie, where you do go to school?”[/i] [i]“Bludhaven Elementary. We’re in the fifth grade.”[/i] [i]“Sweetie, I’m sending some police officers to you. Can you describe where you are? What’s the room like?”[/i] [center][color=black]+ - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - + - +[/color][/center] [i]“All Units, be advised, possible hostage situation at the Gotham Corridor Self Storage. All available units proceed to Interstate Twelve. Repeat, all available units proceed to Interstate Twelve. Missing Bludhaven Elementary students are on the line with dispatch and report the scene is clear, but that suspect may be nearby.”[/i] Dick labored to sit in the driver’s seat. His lower back was killing him, his left knee had locked up on him, and his elbow had never forgiven him for throwing that batarang without properly warming up first. As the adrenaline faded from his body, the old man found himself winded just making the trip back to the car. He’d reclined the seat and just lay there to try and catch his breath, when the call came over the radio. Chambers called his personal cell almost the same moment. [color=#9fc5e8]“What? And [i]the kids[/i] called it in?”[/color] Dick uttered, feigning surprise. It was actually easy to do. He’d told Toyboy to observe and then report back. If the doll had actually cracked the case and then thrown wide the gates, more power to him. Another time, another life, Dick Grayson might never have doubted that Toyboy could have done it. But there was too much of Bruce in him now. He doubted everything. And everyone. Which made being proven wrong satisfying for the notion that his concerns hadn’t been justified. [color=#9fc5e8]“Take control of the scene,”[/color] Dick uttered, trying to keep the wince out of his voice as he popped his seat back to the usual position and then started the cruiser. [color=#9fc5e8]“I’ll be there shortly.”[/color]