There was a cool breeze in the air, pulling and tugging at Batman's cape. Across the street from his perch was an apartment complex, lights on in multiple windows. The one he was focused on was currently dark, indicating that the occupant was quick to bed, or not present at all.
There had been a rash of murders since the Two-Face/Black Mask Gang War. Each was spread out over a few months, totaling five. The main commonality with the victims was their faces had been removed, leaving naked muscles in their wake. Hands had been skinned as well, from fingertip to mid-forearm. The cuts had been surgical in nature, speaking to expertise. The only exception was the first victim, who had been identified as Dr. Robert Franklin, a plastic surgeon.
There were very little connections between the victims other than the state of their bodies. Clearly someone wanted to eliminate any identifying markers, which explained the hands and faces being removed. The second victim had been a patient of Dr. Franklin, but so far there were no other links between the third, fourth, and fifth victims.
The fifth victim had been Sheryl Thomas and it was her apartment the vigilante watched. Thomas' body had been discovered the day before, disposed of in a dumpster. Had it not been for one of the garbagemen, she would've been found at the city dump, far away from the location of her actual dump-off.
A background check showed Thomas was barely making it by as a waitress at a nearby diner. She had no immediate family and kept odd hours. Apparently she was good at what she did since she had no complaints filed against her, or so her work record suggested. Still, with that kind of job, she would've needed to be at the diner most of the week rather than the erratic schedule she kept.
"I don't think anyone's home," Huntress said next to him, her eyes focused on the apartment.
Batman grunted in return.
"If you want I can check it out. You can keep watch if you want."
"One more minute, then we go in," he replied.
"Roger." A moment of silence. "So it's just you and me tonight?"
Another grunt.
"Nice conversation," Huntress said snarkily. "It wouldn't kill you to make some small talk, ya know."
Batman tilted his head to the purple-clad woman. "I thought you would've been used to this by now."
"When it was you and Batgirl trying to out-compete each other with silence, yeah. But Batgirl isn't here and it's just you and me." She paused for a second. "Speaking of whom, why isn't Batgirl with us?"
"She's been grounded until further notice," he told her before returning his attention back to the apartment.
"Really?" Huntress responded with surprise. "What did she do? Go out without permission? Missed curfew? If so, I can explain that."
The reason for the dark-haired woman's response was due to Cassandra staying at her place during his month-long absence. Admittedly, Cassandra had developed a stubborn streak after that month, but Batman had beaten that out of her shortly after. As he understood it, Huntress had attempted to get the girl thinking of her independence along with forced grammar lessons.
"Nothing like that," he finally answered after awhile. "Her technique had gotten dull and she needs retraining. Until she's back to expectations, she's not on the streets."
"Wait a second, what do you mean by dull?" Huntress asked incredulously. "She's one the best fighters I've ever seen! What happened, did she miss a punch or something? That's hardly worth taking her out of action. Now, if you said it was punishment for not wanting to learn basic sentence structure, I'd agree with you."
Batman's mouth twitched up into a small smile. Considering how insistent the woman had been with Cassandra's learning, perhaps it wouldn't hurt to let her in on their protege's current status. "Not too long ago, Batgirl agreed to undergo an experimental process to help with her speaking. It was largely successful, but had the unforeseen side-effect of affecting her fighting ability."
Huntress stared at him with wide eyes before they narrowed. "What do you mean experimental?" she questioned him, a threatening undertone in her voice. "What did you do to her?"
"I had a telepath enter her mind and rearrange her language centers."
And her bewildered expression was back. She was stunned for several moments before finally replying, "I didn't expect that. So how is her speaking?"
"She's coming around. She can speak in short sentences now. Her reading and writing is exceeding even that."
"Huh, maybe I should look into this telepathy thing."
And that was where their conversation would end. Reaching to his belt, Batman pulled out his grapple and aimed it at the building across the street. "It's time to go in," he told the woman vigilante right before he fired the grapple.
What had started out as a bad night had taken a turn for the better. It wasn't often someone offered Simon a drink, but his new best friend had offered and did his best to keep his glass full. All he wanted in return was details on his job.
You couldn't buy that kind of friendship. Simon knew that as a fact since most of the people he paid for were more interested in money and sex.
Stumbling out of the bar, a warm buzz making him feel rather good about himself, Simon weaved his way across open ground until he reached the parking lot. It wasn't that far away to be honest, but every staggering step he took seemed to make the trip so much longer. Hopefully there wasn't a cop keeping an eye on the dive, otherwise Simon was in for a stay in the drunk tank. Not that he would've minded, it made for a nice place to rest and a cool floor for his hangover.
Absently, the drunk man bumped into a car, grunting as he bounced off of it and kept walking. He fished for his keys in his pocket, feeling them tumble out of his grasp every time he grabbed at them. That annoyed him, but he didn't feel too frustrated by it. He would get them eventually.
Got 'em! Finally getting hold of his set of keys, he pulled them out of his pocket, hitting the clicker button to unlock his car. A sharp beep! went off behind him, causing Simon to blink owlishly before turning around. Hitting the unlock button again, the taillights of the car flashed, coupled with the beep again.
Huh, I don't remember parking there.
Shrugging his shoulders, Simon lumbered over to the car, the side of his body bumping up against the bumper of his car. Moving around it, he walked the short distance to the driver's door and opened it, climbing into the driver's seat and slamming the door shut. Holding his keys up, he rattled through them to find his car key.
Suddenly, something thin pulled against his throat, causing his head to jerk back and hit the headrest. Gagging loudly as his legs began to thrash, Simon dropped his keys as he grabbed at the thing digging into his throat. It was a cord, piano wire if he wasn't mistaken.
Oh shit...
"You know, buddy, you just don't know when to shut up," a low voice whispered from the back seat. Eyes bulging from his sockets, Simon tried to turn his head to get a look at his attacker, but an increase of pressure stopped him before he got too far.
All Simon could do was let out a choked cry.
"It's nothing personal, just business." And then the pressure on his throat increased several fold. Spit dribbled down Simon's chin as his lungs screamed for air. His thrashing grew weaker with every motion, his vision blurring and then turning black.
And then Simon's world went dark.
As expected, the apartment was dark. The only source of light came through the windows, the curtains drawn back to allow the light from the streetlamps and moon in. Moving silently throughout the main room, Batman gazed at the unassuming furniture, making sure to scan the place for the video feed in his lens. Huntress was following his lead, checking out a few picture frames that hung from the walls. The sound of her footsteps were nearly inaudible, a conscious effort on her part since she had joined his patrols.
They didn't speak to each other, not when they were unsure if the apartment was uninhabited. Spotting a hallway, Huntress headed that way, disappearing into the corridor. Batman continued his search of the main living room; so far there was nothing to indicate foul play.
Eyeing a bookshelf, he went to inspected it, quickly finding that most of the books were romance novels and the like. It was leisure reading at best.
Huntress re-emerged from the hallway. "Nothing but a bathroom and bedroom back there," she said in a soft tone. However, the Dark Knight couldn't help but notice she was holding what looked like small booklets in her hands. "But I did find these in a drawer."
Reaching out to the vigilante, he accepted what she held and quickly found out there were more than booklets. Rifling through them, he realized they were passports, driver licenses intermingled with them. Opening one, he saw the name Rachel Finestead.
That was the name of the second victim.
Immediately, he checked the other passports, seeing one for Dr. Franklin and another for Sheryl Thomas. The other two were matches for the other two victims.
It seemed someone was collecting trophies.
Singling out the driver IDs, he quickly realized they also belonged to the victims. Seeing as there were five passports and five IDs, it stood to reason the killer had taken them and was keeping them for keepsakes.
"Something about this isn't adding up," Huntress spoke then. "Why kill someone, dump their body, but leave this behind?"
"Perhaps they weren't done here," Batman surmised as he reached to his belt, opening up a pouch. Reaching into it, he then pulled out a plastic bag, one he opened by waving it up and down in the air, allowing the air to fill it up and puff it out. He then slid the evidence into the bag, sealing it up a moment later.
"So now what?" the purple-clad woman asked then. "We leave?"
"No. Search the apartment for more clues. Maybe our killer—"
Suddenly, there was a thud, causing both vigilantes to stiffen. Slowly, they turned their heads to gaze at a closet, hearing another thudding sound being made. The door even shook a bit. Someone was in there.
Immediately, the two closed in on the closet door, Batman standing in front of it while Huntress positioned herself off to a side. In one hand, she held one of her H-shaped shuriken, holding it by her head as she readied to throw it. She gave him a nod to signify she was ready to attack at a moment's notice.
Returning the nod, Batman cautiously reached for the doorknob, taking a hold of it with his hand. He slowly turned the knob until it would go no further. Then with a sudden quickness, he yanked the door open.
Promptly, a man fell onto the floor wearing nothing by his underwear. His hands and feet were bound together with bungee cords, a hideously-colored tie wrapped around his head, acting as a gag in his mouth. Muffled cries came from the man as he looked at them with fear-strickened eyes.
Immediately, Huntress was kneeling next to him, pulling the tie out of his mouth. "You've got to help me!" he practically screamed at them. "She's a psycho, I tell ya, a complete psycho!"
"Who's a psycho?" the dark-haired woman asked as she pressed a hand onto his shoulder. Though it appeared to be a comforting gesture, it was more to keep the frantic man pinned to the floor so that he didn't hurt himself, or thrash enough to alert the people below them.
"The bitch that did this to me!" the man bellowed. "Sheryl!"
Immediately, Batman was on one knee, hovering over the captive. "Sheryl Thomas?" he questioned.
Upon seeing him hovering over him, the man froze before he swallowed deeply. "Y-yeah, her. S-she invited me over and the next thing I know, I'm tied up in a closet."
Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Huntress giving him a questioning look. The dark-clad man had an idea of what she was thinking of and he was of the same mind. Considering they had Sheryl Thomas' body at the GCPD, how the hell was she able to do what this man claimed she had? It wasn't making any sense.
However, it was then that something caught his eye. Reaching down, he took hold of the bound man's chin and forced his head to a side. There, circling around his face was a dotted line made from some kind of marker. Turning the man's head from side to side, the dotted line made an outline of his face.
If he wasn't mistaken, that was roughly the same area the other victims had their faces sliced off.
This man was being prepared.
Suddenly, the phone rang, causing all three of them to look towards it. Over and over it rang until it just as suddenly stopped. A moment later and a red light turned on, indicating the answering machine had answered the call.
"Hey, Sheryl," a woman's voice said, filling the silent apartment. "It's Shannon. I thought you would've been home by now, but I just wanted to ask you if you've seen Dan? He hasn't been by in awhile and I was wondering if you knew anything. Call me when you get this."
The two vigilantes turned their heads to the man. "I take it you're Dan," Huntress surmised.
Dan nodded frantically. "Dan Flemmings."
Now came a quandary. Seeing as they had their suspect with their latest victim, it made sense to use him as bait and wait for the suspect to return. On the other hand, if that voice message was any indicate, the suspect was running late in returning. Either it was just that, them running late, or they weren't coming back at all. If that was the case, then they needed to get Dan Flemmings out of there and to a hospital.
Decisions, decisions.
Blackgate was a modern day fortress, designed with the sole purpose of keeping people in and making them stay there. Massive walls, thick and reinforced with steel, multiple checkpoints that made it a bitch to transverse, and armed guards keeping an eye out for anything that didn't seem right were beginnings of the intricate security system the prison was known for.
It had to be secure; it was the toughest supermax prison located next to one of the largest cities in the country. Some of the worst of the worst were kept here, and not all were native to Gotham. However, every once in awhile, a celebrity of sorts made enough of a name for himself that the city gave him a one way ticket here.
It's warden, Agatha Zorbatos, prided not only herself, but her staff with maintaining the prison's high standards. Since she had taken the position, there had yet to be one riot in the place. Murders, sure, that was just a fact of prison life, but she had the power to make everyone's lives a living hell if they ticked her off in even the slightest way.
Once, she had been a beat cop, doing her shift out on the streets. It was no secret that she liked to use brute force when apprehending a crook. It made some of the guys at the precinct respect her. Naturally, there were the pussies who had her written up, complained about her "excessive force," but the blue line always came to the rescue. Even when she had lost her eye in the line of duty, it was back to the beat in no time.
Then came Gordon and the next thing she knew she had been kicked off the force.
Zorbatos was not the Commissioner's biggest fan. Hadn't been in the beginning, and still wasn't even now.
On the plus side, she managed to score this gig as the warden. Turns out, running a harsh place like Blackgate was easy for her. None of that rehabilitation crap here, only retribution. Every scumbag here had a debt to society to pay and it was up to her to collect it. Made getting fired worth it.
Now, there were the growing pains, the time when people were pissed off at her because they didn't think she could do the job or deserved it. Opinions changed rapidly.
One thing that Zorbatos had done was go over security before calling it a night. When the sun had set and the clock screamed at her to go home, that was the best time for any inmate to try something, anything, all to get out of here.
No, this was the time to beef security up, not weaken it. So some procedures were put into place, to make sure everything was in line.
"Video feeds," the one-eyed woman listed to her larger subordinate, pausing only to wait for an answer.
"Uninterrupted and all functional," the man known as Lyle Bolton answered, eyes flickering down to an iPad briefly before returning to her immediately. A meaty finger pressed against the handheld device's screen and moved the digital display up and down, allowing Lyle to look through all the data.
"Checkpoints."
"Closed and secured."
"Outer perimeter."
"Successful shift change and on patrol."
"Searchlights."
"Tested and operational."
"Cell doors." Zorbatos allowed a small smirk to cross her lips at those words.
"Locked and electrified," Lyle confirmed.
That was one of the newer functions added to Blackgate over the past year. When you had a rowdy serial killer with a self-mutilation problem and a crocodile man added to the gallery, you upped your security. Screw the other inmates who complained of "cruel and unusual punishment."
They should have all thought twice before breaking the law.
"Fridge." An odd thing to say going through security measure, but again, Blackgate had a lot more in it than met the eye.
"Operational. Our Iceman is going nowhere," Lyle reported.
Yes, her pride of an guest was not going anywhere tonight, not that he ever did. It was hard for him to do anything at room temperature, leaving poor little Victor Fries at her mercy. Since he was perhaps the best behaved inmate here, she didn't abuse her power with him. A reward for not giving her a headache.
"A Block." The place for the weaklings, normally the rich who wanted their own stone cold suites.
"Secure."
"B Block." Rapist, child molesters, and any other domestic abusers. The only safe place for them here.
"Secure."
"C Block." Murderers, mobsters, arsonists, the real tough guys.
"Secure."
"D Block." The worst of the worst, even among all the other blocks. These were the guys who didn't play nice with others. Zsasz, Jones, Cobblepot, McKillen, this is where they were all locked up.
"Locks functional, doors electrified, motion and heat sensors operational. Secure."
The fact that Lyle went into more detail there shows the priority placed on those animals.
Several other key features of the security check were rattled off, all given the affirmative. Good, a tight ship to keep everyone inside where they belonged. Her other crowning achievement: since she had become warden, there had been no successful escape attempts. Since she had hired Lyle here, there had been no escape attempts.
Not that it stopped them, but Lyle's personal touch to the security apparatus was a thing of beauty. That he kept updating it made it the envy of all in the state. Where had this man been all her life?
It was officially confirmed now, Blackgate was sealed up tight.
"Time to call it a night, Lyle," Zorbatos stated as she began locking up her desk. "I'll be heading out soon. Joining me tonight?"
"I want to go over the system one more time," Lyle answered in his gravelly baritone. It was a voice that seemed to come from deep within a cave. "There was a breakout over in Gateway a week ago. I want to make sure the flaws in their system aren't in ours."
Good man, always up to date with every single prison escape in the country. He always found out how each one was done and then combed through Blackgate searching for the same weaknesses. It was a never ending task that Lyle seemed to enjoy. Probably his life's work.
"Suit yourself. I'll be heading for the east exit," she informed him, letting him know about the future breach in their security. To leave Blackgate would be to open a tiny hole in their system, one that could be exploited by anyone desperately searching for their ticket out of here. Not that they would go that far, but precautions were necessary.
"I'll let them know to expect you," Lyle nodded as he headed for the door.
"Make sure it's lights out before you leave," she called after him as she pocketed her iPhone and car keys. She was never the type to carry around a purse. Jean pockets were a good enough replacement.
Not hearing, or expecting a reply, Zorbatos made good on her word as she locked up her office. From here, it would be a simple stroll to the east exit. She was already preparing her ID so as to speed the process up.
With the knowledge that her prison was in working order, she knew she would be sleeping well tonight.
The fan blades spun furiously as the drone sped through the night sky. Its dark coloring allowed it to blend in with its dark surroundings. A small camera lens focused on what was ahead of it, sending the feedback to a short, stocky man with long, grayish-brown hair and a green windbreaker jacket.
Watching the image on the small screen in front of him, the aged man who looked almost like a caveman with his protruding chin, his fat, curved nose, and deep set brow smirked as he eyed Blackgate Prison. Holding a small joystick between his thumb and forefinger, he urged the drone to fly closer.
His other hand rested on the small, portable console placed firmly on the ground. A finger laid on top of a button, eager to press it down, and release the drone's payload.
"Trogg," an accented voice commanded.
"ETA, twenty seconds," Trogg reported, keeping his eyes forced on the console's small screen. Beside him, the man whom he gave his loyalty to grunted in answer. The presence he seemed to possessed constantly reminded the long-haired man of the task at hand.
"Are you sure this is going to work?" Bird spoke up. "Those things are awfully small. Do they really have the firepower we need to pull this off?"
"Do not underestimate Trogg," A skinny bald man in a large coat answered. He held a laptop computer and was finishing up his own task. "His appearance belies his technological knowledge. This is his area of expertise. His weapons of choice may be his fists, but he's always had a talent with demolition."
Trogg ignored the man he knew as Zombie. Bird's doubts and Zombie's defense meant nothing to him. The only thing that did matter was Bane's approval. The masked man himself remained silent, waiting for what he knew would happen. It was all apart of the plan and this was Trogg's part.
Moving the hand that lay close to the trigger button, he changed the image of Blackgate to another angle of the prison. While Bird's doubts that one drone was capable of doing any damage was understandable, they weren't using one drone. They were using an army of them, each one closing in from multiple directions.
"They're in range," Trogg stated as he stopped the drones' progress. Quickly, he flicked a switch, arming every single one of them in the process.
From his position out in front of the trio, Bane grunted. "Release the pulse."
Rapidly switching through the various drones, Trogg took sole control over the first of their flying weapons. With the schematics of the prison's outer defenses next to him, he moved this particular drone into place. On the screen was the prison's power station, constantly powering the fortress' electrical grid so that it was not solely dependent on Gotham's power plants.
Once in position, Trogg flipped a switch and smirked as the feed went black This drone in particular has been built with the sole purpose of releasing an electromagnetic pulse. a small device on the underbelly, which had glowed a brilliant blue light before unleashing the pulse. It would fry the circuitry and the power-producing machinery inside the plant; however that also meant the drone would be fried too. An acceptable loss.
Detonating next to the power station, the results were immediate as Blackgate went dark. For the next thirty or so seconds, the prison would remain dark until the backup generators activated. Next would be the security system, also shut off by the pulse, but that would take an additional sixty seconds there.
That was where Zombie came in. Already, the thin, bald man was at work, waiting on and entering the prison's cyber security system, working to establish a foothold before the firewalls were restored. Much of the prison ran on electricity, and it wouldn't do for certain functions, such as the locking mechanisms, to be disabled. That was not part of the plan.
It took thirty seconds before Zombie reported, "I'm in." Just in time for the lights to turn back on.
That was as good as saying Blackgate was theirs.
Her shoes clacking against the tiled floor, Zorbatos was strolling through the hallway when the power unexpectedly cut out. What was once a lit-up building went completely dark to the point that the warden herself stopped in her tracks.
Frowning, she began to mutter to herself. This was not what she meant by lights out. That was just a cue to tell the inmates that it was night-night time and to be good little boys and girls and shut the hell up.
It was probably an outage. She was going to have to have the power station checked over to make sure they didn't have another burnt out fuse, or malfunctioning part. The warden made a note to speak with Lyle first thing in the morning to see what he knew about it.
Other than being a little pissed, Zorbatos knew all she needed to do was wait a moment. The backup generators would kick in any second now. Naturally, her prison was prepared for such a thing, but that didn't mean it wasn't an inconvenience all the same.
The lights flickered before turning on, and the one-eyed woman had to squint for a couple seconds as she got used to it. There we go. Much better. Now to reach the checkpoint and get out of here before she herself was trapped in here. Wouldn't be the first time, but that didn't mean it wouldn't be a pain in the ass as well.
Screw it, when she reached the checkpoint, she'd send word to Lyle to see what he knew about it. This was not something the warden was going to go to sleep thinking about.
Beginning her walk once more, it was barely a minute when she felt the building rock along with the booming of an explosion.
"Begin the next phase," Bane ordered.
Switching the feed to an active drone, Trogg moved his finger back to the button he had been resting his hand next to previously. Pressing it down, a barrage of missiles fired from the drones, the long-haired man watching the screen in anticipation for them to reach their targets. They did, striking the outer walls of the prison as well as the prison itself.
The sound of explosions rang out, the night's sky lighting up, which caused all four men to look forward. Though their view of the prison was blocked by the forest of trees before them, they did nothing to block out the orange and yellow light shinning into the sky.
This, however, was just the first strike. While it was expected the wall of the prison would hold for the most part, a layer of brick and mortar collapsed from the explosions and revealing a segment of the steel hidden within, the outer walls weren't so lucky. A gaping hole was exposed in the inner defenses.
Trogg was not done yet. Bringing in a trio of specialized drones, he directed them to the exposed steel wall. Flipping another switch, he activated the steel cutters and began to work on the wall once more.
"I'll need sixty seconds before the outer wall is breached," he stated.
There was no answer from Bane, at least not to him. To Zombie, his leader spoke, "Release the inmates, all of them. Hinder the guards and let my pawns have time to organize themselves."
"Unlocking all cells," Zombie confirmed, giving a few taps to the laptop's keyboard.
The loud booming was either waking up, or keeping up the prisoners of Blackgate. Some sat on their bunks, shifting nervously as they wondered what the hell was going on. Others were pacing their cells, nervous bundles of energy coiled and waiting to lash out at the first opportunity. Then there were the others still under their covers, clutching them anxiously as their widened eyes darting every which way as they tried to zero in on the next explosion.
Then all at once, the doors to their cells slid open.
Normally, there was a loud buzz that would occur before such a thing happened. Not this time. The doors opened without warning and stayed that way.
The reaction was delayed, each inmate conditioned to that loud buzz. A brave few stuck their heads out, looking left and right almost in a daze. Was this real? Were their doors actually open?
Victor Zsasz would be the first to march out, sharp eyes searching for any movement. Then, having watched him and witnessed nothing happening, the rest began to flood out. Cheers, whoops, and hollers began to fill the silent Blocks. A dash for the exit commenced, slowing down as the ones in the lead learned that the thick barrier was still shut.
As if someone was looking over them, that large blast door opened by itself.
"Yeah!" the growing mob cheered as they continued their surge forward.
In his cell, Kirk Langstrom remained on his bed, watching as inmates rushed in front of his, ignoring him. The scientist and former Man-Bat made no move to leave. He only had a few months left until parole, and his father's lawyers would make sure that would happen. To even set foot outside of his cell would endanger that, and what would Francine think of him? He had disappointed her enough already and he would not do so again.
Another who made a similar choice was Victor Fries. However, his decision was less of a choice unless you considered death viable. The door to his cell had opened, but based on its design, it would need a human touch to open fully. For a man whom room temperature was lethal, there was no choice in this matter. He also had no intention of leaving either. Gotham had already made its decision about him a long time ago.
Waylon Jones, also known as the Killer Croc, was among the throng making good on the promise of freedom. He had no intention of sticking around this joint. But he could make some time, he figured. There were a few guards here he had a bone to pick with, and what do you know, here were a few of them in their riot gear, hoping to make a stand.
"Out of my way!" he roared as he barreled towards them and knocked aside the row of shielded prison guards with a sweep of one of his scaly arms. Behind him, the wusses that followed after began jumping the fallen guards, working out some frustrations of their own.
"Keep an eye on their progress, direct them to our door," Bane stated as he uncrossed his arms, reaching to his side for a radio communicator. Bringing it up to his face, the large, masked man ordered, "You're clear for takeoff. Begin phase three."
Seconds later, the hum of helicopter propellers became impossible to ignore, the flying machine flying overhead the group of four and heading towards Blackgate. As it got in range, the machine gun turret began lighting up, firing at the guard stations along the walls. A torrent of bullets blasted into the first station, blowing through walls and felling the security forces, their bodies exploding with blood before they fell to the floor. With the first guard station down, the helicopter headed for the next one, unleashing another barrage of gunfire.
"Bane, emergency responders are on their way," Bird spoke up, lowering a radio from his head. "They'll be here in minutes."
"The diversionary measures are in place," Bane stated more than asked.
"They are," Bird confirmed.
"We continue the assault," Bane said. "Trogg?"
"Ten more seconds," Trogg answered, continuing to direct the three drones. With their whirling blades, the drones flew right into the steel-enforced wall, the blades cutting into the steel as sparks exploded out in all directions.
"How dare they," Lyle growled as he watched the computer monitor, the images of rampaging animals trashing his secured prison.
He should have been out there, restoring order and locking those...beasts up where they belonged. There was one problem, however: his own security system, the one that he had spent years perfecting, was working against him. It defied all reason; how was he the one locked up instead of them?
The monitor continued to show the chaotic destruction of Blackgate, and every second that passed infuriated him further. In one hand, he held a baton, fully intending to use it with extreme prejudice. But since he was here, in a guard station at a security checkpoint, he could only working out his frustration by tightening his grip on the elongated club.
The baton groaned under the pressure it was under, and it would have to endure because Lyle was not going to be calming down anytime soon.
Once he got out of here, he was going to make it his personal mission to find every single one of those animals and caged them up. One by one if he had to. He was going to lock them up and throw away the damn key.
Then make sure they never got out again.
After waiting the recommended amount of time, Bane barked another order into his radio communicator. In response, the helicopter pulled away from the prison, turning towards the damaged section of the outer wall. A missile rocketed off from the aircraft, racing through the air until it struck the exposed steel wall.
The result was according to plan. An even larger explosion erupted, fire launching out in all directions and washing over the brick-and-mortar wall, the drones getting caught up in the blast. Weakened by the steel-cutting drones, a segment of the hidden steel wall broke through the rest of the stone-based wall and became a clear exit for those wanting it.
"God damn! We've broken through!" Bird shouted exuberantly.
"It is up to the inmates to do the rest," Bane commented. "And they will so long as we prolong this opportunity. To the next phase."
"I'll keep monitoring the prison interior," Zombie stated.
"I'll get the other chopper," Bird volunteered.
"I'll press the assault," Trogg added as he switched the feed to another drone. Moving the joystick, he moved this particular one towards an untouched guard station, tactically built in a corner of the outer defenses. Arming it, he held forward on the joystick, sending the drone into a kamikaze run. The drone flew right into the guard station, destroying it as a ball of fire erupted.
Bane said nothing to acknowledge them, trusting them to keep their words and stay on task. This was only the beginning of the operation. They weren't done yet, not by a long shot.
To the first Guest reviewer: Hopefully that excitement was rewarded lol
To the second Guest reviewer: That's assuming he makes it public. Those answers will come eventually