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[sub][ [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4959845]Prev[/url] ]  [color=#9fc5e8]“[b]FEAT OF CLAY[/b], Part VII”[/color]  [ [url=https://www.roleplayerguild.com/posts/4971305]Next[/url] ][/sub][/center][COLOR=steelblue][INDENT][B][SUP][SUB][H3]B L Ü D H A V E N[/H3][/SUB][/SUP][/B][/INDENT][hr][/COLOR][INDENT][INDENT][sup][color=goldenrod]St. Anthony’s Cathedral[/color][/sup][/INDENT]
[color=silver]The evening mass had gone long in commemoration of the martyrdom of St. Lawrence.

Now, the streets were dark as the faithful emptied from out of the cathedral. Several ladies of the church gossiped as they helped one another down the steps.  Mary Agatha, a widow twice over, was the oldest of the trio. Helen’s husband was still with them, but in an assisted living home that specialized in care for Alzheimer’s patients.  Jean was the youngest, yet had been widowed the longest.

Mary Agatha didn’t drive much anymore.  Two hip replacements had limited her mobility.  Jean had given her a ride, and been able to park in front of the cathedral with the handicap tag that Mary Agatha carried.  So, for them, the trip to the car was short.  They got Mary Agatha seated quickly, standing there talking for a few minutes more.  All the while, the people thinned out.  The crowd dispersed.  It was just Helen standing on the sidewalk, as Jean got into the car and the women said their goodbyes.  

Parking in downtown Blüdhaven was always a problem.  Helen hadn’t been able to find a spot in the small parking lot beside the cathedral, so she’d had to get a spot in the back.  Making her way down the dimly lit alleyway, the woman was -- at first -- oblivious to the scattering of people that milled about.  That was before two men stepped out to block her path forward.

Frightened, the woman went to turn back, but found another two men behind her.

“Lost, granny?” one of the men in front of her demanded, as the four men each stepped forward, pressing against the speechless woman. “Let’s see what’s in that purse, yeah?”

The alley was plunged in darkness.  The sound of breaking glass echoing as one of the lights facing into the alley was suddenly extinguished.  All five of them jumped, Helen as well as the four men.  The knives came out.  Along with a small .22.

The sound of footsteps overhead caused several of the men to look up to their left. Then a shadow, moving, sent their heads spinning as if on a swivel.  Except, when they looked, there was no shadow there.

One of the men swore.  “Shit, it’s Batman!”

That was when a giggling echo, like childish laughter, could be heard -- echoing down the alley.

A loud [b][i]bang[/i][/b] accompanied the arrival of a small form, descending from the rooftop to land atop the roof of a car abandoned in the alley.  Turning his head up, the masked youth had a Cheshire grin plastered across his face as he asked, [color=#ffd700]“Who’s Batman?”[/color]

The four men just stood there for a moment. Finally one blurted out, “The fuck..?”

Cartwheeling from off the car, the childish vigilante flipped through the air.  Planting two feet straight into the chest of one of the thugs, the boy sent the man flying with surprising force into the side of the cathedral, sliding down to the ground in a stupor.  

As the costumed boy made the landing, a leg sweep took a second thug to the ground.  The man with the .22 brought the pistol around to aim at the kid, but coming out of the sweep the boy seemed to flip his body around like a break dancer.  Both legs came up to seize hold of the man’s arm in a scissor lock, leveraging his body weight to then launch the man off his feet.  The sound of bone snapping and the scream that followed gave evidence to the fact that the man’s shoulder may not have survived the encounter.

For himself, the doll used his hands to propel himself up, twisting in the air and then performing a handstand before popping back upright.  It was two against one now, knives flashing in the darkness as the pair converged on the boy.  Cherubic laughter echoed it a haunting melody of childish giggling.  

The furl of his cape blinded the one to his left, while a wrist strike became a joint lock that he leveraged in order to spin the one to his right around, so that the two slammed into each other.  A palm-heel strike to center mass supplied surprising momentum, as the thug was taken off his feet.  A windmill kick ended with the sound of snapping bone, after which the other thug slammed down into a puddle on the alley floor.

A short scream caused the boy to turn around.  The first thug -- the one that he’d kicked in the chest -- was back on his feet.  He had the old woman with a knife to her throat.  “Look, man.  All I want is the purse, man.  Then I’m leaving here, man.  You got that?” the man sputtered, tightening his grip on the woman as he shouted, “[b][i]You got that!?[/i][/b]”

Through his robotic vision, the doll was calculating a series of angles and statistics, extrapolating physical probabilities even as he began to put a still-formulating plan into motion.  Holding up his arms, as if in surrender, the boy made a slow and deliberate reach to his utility belt.  Withdrawing the grapple gun, he held it out at the side, slowly bending down as if to show that he was setting it down.

Then he reversed the grip and hit the trigger.

The grapple hook fired at the side of the building, the force and angle of impact causing it to ricochet off the brick.  The hook caught the man in the side of the face, embedding itself there.  A high-pitched squeal shattered the night, as the knife fell away, clattering to the floor.  The man dropped a second later, clutching at his face as he writhed and screamed in pain.

Stooping low, the costumed doll snatched up the purse that had been dropped.  Then, walking up to the shivering woman, offered it as he said, [color=#ffd700]“I’ve contacted the police.  They’re on their way.” [/color] Gently, the boy placed a hand on the woman’s arm and turned her back toward the way that she’d come.  [color=#ffd700]“Let me walk you back to the street.  The police will be here soon.”[/color]

As the pair emerged into the light, the woman at last got a good luck at the strange figure.  It was a boy.  Little more than a child.  His dark hair was tousled and wild, framing a face that was masked.  A short black cape shrouded his slight form, though glimpses of gold and crimson were visible.  As they arrived at the corner, the sound of police sirens could be heard.  Flashes of blue and red began to appear down the street.

[i][color=#ffd700]“Don’t be afraid,”[/color][/i] the woman heard the childish voice say.

When she turned to look again, the boy was gone.  As the first police car pulled up, with Helen caught in the headlights, the church lady clutched at her purse and then stared down the alleyway, wondering if some madness had caused her to imagine all of that just now.

...it couldn’t have really happened.  Could it?

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Childish laughter echoed off into the moonlight.

It had been a fairly benign evening.  Busting up the mugging outside the church had been about the most excitement he’d had all night.  That didn’t mean that it had been a quiet night.  He’d been keeping up with the police scanner.  All manner of routine calls had been coming in.  Mostly calls for medical assists, stolen cars, or robberies of the convenience and/or liquor store variety.

Now that the hour was rolling past midnight, it was likely to get to be quieter on the police scanner and more interesting from Robin’s perspective.  The people moving about at this hour could be divided up into two rather neat categories:  People going to work on odd-hour shifts or people who didn’t want their comings or goings to be seen.

...or, in the alternative, wanted [i]everyone[/i] to know their comings and goings.

The Street Demonz were one such example.  Rolling through on motorcycles with bored out exhaust or glass packs to make them sound like overly aggressive Harley-Davidsons.  They roared through the streets at around one in the morning, filling the streets with noise before piling into the parking lot of a closed strip mall.

As the headlights panned around the shops, they caught the form a girl. Illuminated there for a moment, the dark-haired waif broke into a run.

And the motorcycles in pursuit.

As the motorcycles swooped in, the girl found herself surrounded.  Like a flock of vultures, the bikers prowled in a circle around her. “Well, what do we have here?” one asked, while others cat-called or whistled.

Clutching at the hem of the cardigan that she wore, the girl looked about, as though seeking an escape.  Finally, one of the bikers broke from the circle, zipping up beside her to ask, “Past your bedtime, isn’t it cutie?”

Breaking in the direction that he’d traveled, the girl made a run for it.  Two bikes cut her off, causing her to skid to a halt as the first biker came up behind her.  “What the matter?  Don’t you want to play?”

[color=#ffd700]“Maybe she doesn’t like slime.”[/color]

As the bikers and the girl looked up, a shadow seemed to detach itself from the darkness, until a red-and-black clad figure became visible along the rooftops of the strip mall.  At the realization that the figure was that of a boy, the bikers relaxed. “Halloween’s over, kid,” one of them boasted, before dismissively adding, “Now beat it.  Before you get [i]hurt[/i].”

Vaulting through the air, the boy suddenly planted himself just an inch away from the man of the bike.  Despite the size difference between the two, the man on the bike actually baked away a step, as the costumed figure said, [color=#ffd700]“The girl leaves with me or you’re the ones getting hurt.”[/color]

“What was that?” one of the bikers asked, before another noted, “Oh, tough guy.”

That was when the bikers started moving. Circling and shooting toward the costumed boy and the frightened girl.  Until one got [i]too close[/i] and a windmill kick had neatly knocked one of the Street Demonz from off their pedestals.  The bike were sailing into the one of the buildings, while the rider went down hard onto the pavement.

It was cause for a lot of consternation among the true believers.

“You see that?”
“No way.”
“You’re going down, kid.”

As the whirling dervish turned upon the pair, the costumed figure came to life.  A grapple line took out two of the mounted thugs, while a trash can lid was repurposed into a projectile that served to turn another of the bikers into a projectile.

When the dust had cleared, the bikers and their motorcycles were laid bare, while the costumed Toy Wonder emerged victorious.  Turning toward where the girl had huddled for security, the young [s]Toyboy[/s] Jason asked, [color=#ffd700]“You all right?”[/color]

Except there was no one there.  Instead, glancing off to the left, the boy saw where the girl was running for her life down an alleyway. [color=#ffd700]“You’re welcome,”[/color] the boy offered with a shrug.

The girl in the mini skirt and the cardigan sweater made it halfway down the alley before a police car with lights cruised by.  Instantly, she froze.  Backing away, she collided with something.  Or someone.  Turning, she looked back to realize that the Toy Wonder was standing there, behind her. [color=#ffd700]“Is that what you’re running from?”[/color] the boy asked.  As she shied away, he reached out, saying, [color=#ffd700]“I just want to help.”[/color]

The girl adamantly shook her head. [color=#f4cccc]“You can’t,”[/color] she uttered flatly, adding, [color=#f4cccc]“I have to keep moving.”[/color]

She was a runner. [color=#ffd700] “Is there somewhere I can take you?”[/color] the boy asked, almost pleading. Softly, he asked, [color=#ffd700]“Do you have a family?”[/color]

The girl hesitated, [color=#f4cccc]“I...”[/color]

Whatever answer that he might have gotten was lost the moment that a voice broke across the strip mall parking lot and said, [b][i]“Police!”[/i][/b]

A plethora of police cars came barreling in, sirens blaring.  Vaulting back up to the rooftops, the Toy Wonder vanished into the shadows.  

He’d lost sight of the girl.  Vanished into the night, as he had.[/color][/INDENT]