They had moved their base of operations to a disused factory on the edge of the Shark's territory. The plan necessitated he remain close the action, they had coerced a lot of new members into the crew, so he needed to make sure they stayed loyal.
He had them reworking the SUV's design with paint stripper and blowtorches, he needed them to be properly marked as his property. He could hear them outside working away, the hiss of the blowtorches attenuated by the sound of metal swelling with the heat.
He sat in what he assumed was once the factory managers office, a large oak desk still in place, abandoned when the factory closed. A few scraps of paper still remained, showing blue-prints of some kind of electrical wire making machine, he glanced at them briefly before tossing them on the floor to the left of the room. The door to the office slowly creaked open, a tall slim member of the gang walking in.
'Got the take Boss.' He said as he lifted a large case up onto the desk.
'Good. How much?'
'Bought $18k.' he replied confidently.
Two-face leant forward to open the case when a loud bang came from the factory floor followed by a pained scream. Dent's hand hovered over the release clip for a moment before he stood up. Without a word he swept past the taller man and through the door. He looked look across to one of the SUV's sat an odd angle, the unblemished side facing him. He paced across the factory floor, pulling his silver pistol from his right hand holster with his jacket, gripping it in his unscarred hand.
He approached the wonky SUV and dragged the tip of his weapon across the bonnet, making his way around it to the source of the noise. He found another of his goons crouched by the rear wheel, the tyre burst, a run of melted rubber across the rim where a blowtorch had damaged it. The man's hand was trapped beneath the deflated wheel, a small pool of blood trickled from beneath. The vehicle had shifted as the tyre burst, crushing the fingers with ease, the man still whimpered as his employer loomed over him.
Carefully Two-face reached into his top jacket pocket, the infamous coin revealed from within the fabric. Two-face watched the coin roll across his fingers for a moment before tossing it into the air, he didn't take his eyes off it as it span. It came to rest in his hand, and he savoured the moment before looking at the result. He didn't say anything, he didn't give away the outcome in any way. After several long moments of silence the trapped, injured man went to speak.
BANG! The gun fire before he got a word out, his body fell to the floor. A fresh bullet hole placed in the centre of his forehead. The gun rose to the mob bosses lips, and he blew softly to clear the smoke before it slid back inside his jacket. Without a word he turned and headed back towards the office.
It was terribly cold. An angry piercing cold, attenuated by the howling wind. He stood alone atop the office block, staring out across the city, eyes not really focusing on any particular detail. The echo of distant sirens could be heard, as it always could be. He ignored the whining sound, taking in the view of the city.
He had been there for almost half an hour, he face starting to go numb from the cold. A gunshot rang out from a nearby street, a weary sigh was released as he heard it, trying to force it from his mind for the moment. More shots soon follow, the depression of Gotham City forcing its way into his mind. With a final breath he jumped. He fell, arms out stretched watching the pavement below, he waited until he reached about 3 floors from the asphalt before firing this grapple, the steel cable piercing into the night air with hiss of Co2. Smoothly he swung along the street towards the firefight.
Dick let his final swing carry him low along the street, giving him a good look at the skirmish ahead.
Another gang fight, he could make out 3 figures crouched behind some large refuse bins, taking pot shots into the street. Generic clothing, which meant they were probably Great White Sharks men, and he could make a good guess at who they had fallen out with. He swung up again and across the street, over the fighting, nobody noticing his passing.
He released the grapple hook and flipped head over heels before landing with a short slide atop an apartment block, a small cloud of dust kicked up by his impact. He span to view the street below. A number of cars had been abandoned by members of the public escaping the conflict, one was set ablaze already, the smooth paint work cracked and peeling in the heat. The street was poorly lit, only the muzzle flashes provided broken visibility, the angry faces of the gunmen starkly backlit by their wrathful shooting. A number of men clashed with bats, pipes and other melee weapons along the sidewalks.
The centre of street was littered by bodies and bullet holes. The smooth asphalt stained red, as those armed with guns unleashed violence upon each other. Dick noted to himself that neither of the gangs leaders were present, the goons who had no real interest in the fighting left to duke it out on their own. He began to analyse the situation, planning his actions.
There were three brawls on the sidewalk and another had spilled into an electronics store, but they could wait, the main problem was the guns. There were 6 of Two-face's henchmen hidden behind cars, while 4 of the Sharks crew were up the street behind dumpsters, however outnumbered gang hand a mix of SMG's and Assault rifles. The two tone garbed opponents struggling to hit back with pistols and a shotgun. He could just take one crew out, it would leave him wide open to the other side's armoury.
A dull scream and a cloud of red signalled the death of another of Dent's hired help. Thoughtfully he ran a finger across a button on his left gauntlet, a small nozzle extending from just above the wrist. Staying low he ran across the rooftop to a large billboard, Gotham City Radio advertised across it. He allowed the small nozzle to dispense a thick blue gel onto both support struts and the main post holding the heavy billboard upright. A cursory glance to the street below ensured his targets were still in position, quickly he ducked behind the billboard.
Nightwing paced back a few steps, slowing his breathing to focus his mind. He pushed the button on his gauntlet and began running, the gel detonated in muffled explosions, the billboard lurched towards him as he leapt up, his momentum tipping it back towards the street as he perched on the back of it, skilfully dispensing a long streak of gel across the rear of the wooden panelling. He allowed the board to begin to fall, feeling it catch the cold night air beneath it before leaping free from it.
The button on his gauntlet was pressed again, the fresh line of gel flashing with light as it exploded, the large structure fracturing into several large chunks falling upon Sharks gunmen below. His grapple line fired, biting into masonry high above him, he swung across the street once more, sliding a carefully crafted wingding from a pouch at his waist.
He touched against the wall, his body naturally curling up to absorb the impact ready to spring away, the wingding flew from his hand. He snapped his legs straight, propelled down to street below. He just caught a glimpse of his project hitting one of two-faces nameless thugs in the temple before he crashed into the owner of the shotgun, the man collapsed beneath him as bones broke under his weight. Fluidly he rolled away, snatching up a stray bottle as he did so, he turned as he stood. The bottle was unleashed against another enemy shattering against his chest.
The two remaining men had started to react to him, his eskrima sticks were in his hand in one fluid motion. A casual left swing took the pistol from one man's hands, a yelp of pain as finger cracked, he continued around the victim, ducking a shot from the last gun, the bullet releasing brick dust from the wall behind Dick as it hit. His right stick connected with the man's knee as he ducked a snap kick to his chest as he fell sent the gunman sprawling across the floor. Dick span again as his last target swung for him, he blow catching him on the shoulder but his trained body ignored the pain. Instinctively Nightwing threw his head forward causing his opponents nose to spray blood. He watched the man stagger away from him before planting a violent kick on the already ruined nose to finish him off. He slipped another wingding free a prepared to throw it down the street, he paused. The other gang members still upright were fleeing down side alleys, and the dust was still settling from the desolation the falling billboard had caused, nobody was getting up.
He smiled.
