Chapter 20 - Culling pests
Pamela eyed the girl she had taken into her home with puzzlement. She had known Cassandra to be a somewhat strange girl – not that that was a bad thing! But it was just how it was... – In many ways she herself was a very strange woman as well, she could admit that. Even Tanya, for all her vaunted rationality, was a highly unusual person.
Yet, Cassandra had turned out to be far weirder than she had at first seemed, as hard as that was to believe.
Not only had she apparently been raised in sickeningly abusive conditions and become an expert at stealth, but she was also the best melee fighter that she had ever seen. And despite how irrational it was, she couldn't help but feel a little hurt that Cass hadn't shared that side of her. Of course, that poor girl deserved to keep her painful secrets, but she nonetheless would have liked to know more about the child she had saved from a garbage dump and basically adopted over the last two weeks.
Pamela didn't like humans very much, however her heart was definitely not made of stone. From the moment she had first laid eyes on Cassandra, she had been touched by her plight. Having a child of her own was never something she had desired, but caring for the mute girl had been unexpectedly... nice? Cassandra wasn't like other girls, all shallow and egotistical, unable to see even a glimpse of the beauty they carelessly trampled underneath their feet. She wouldn't have minded living with her until she was old enough to find her own home.
But if she was some sort of super-ninja would that even be possible...?
As if sensing her inner dilemma, Cassandra simply appeared by her side like she often did. She really was a ninja, huh?
'Don't be afraid' or at least that was what Pamela interpreted her grimace and solemn head shake to mean.
That brought a smile to her face for some reason. Cassandra was such a direct girl, always getting to the root of whatever issue she was dealing with, be it figuring out how the radio worked or when she was sad for some reason. Maybe her lack of access to fancy words meant that she couldn't obfuscate the meaning of what she wanted to convey like others, or she was just generally not fond of beating around the bush, but the end result was still the same.
Slowly, like she was approaching a wounded animal, the smaller girl closed in and wrapped her arms around her middle. Pamela was stunned for a second before instinct set in and she returned the tentative hug.
No, she was just being silly. Nothing had changed. Cass was still an innocent girl marked by the cruelty of this world and in need of protection. Some awesome fighting skills didn't change that! If anything, it was reassuring to know that her ward could properly defend herself.
Looking up at her, Cassandra smiled and it was a beautiful thing.
Just then hastily approaching steps echoed out from behind them and they quickly separated to witness a worryingly frantic Tanya scan their surroundings.
"It seems they prepared for us. Hostiles inbound; we need to get out of here ASAP!"
Suddenly she tensed and without a word ran outside the house to look straight up. A few moments later the mechanical roaring of a helicopter became audible even to her. These bastards had freaking attack helicopters!?
What were they supposed to do against that!?
"Alright, here is what we have to do if we want to make it out of here alive." Tanya explained, taking control of the situation and only seeming mildly annoyed by the potential threat of certain death. "Poison Ivy, get to the upper floors and try thinking of something you can use to bring the helicopter down somehow. Annoying it and stalling for time would be enough, too. Be careful of the apartments; they might be ambush points. Take Quiet with you. I'll take care of the cavalry."
And with those vague instructions she left her alone again, scurrying out of the open door and into the night to stop something even worse than what was circling above their heads at the moment, apparently.
This whole night had really gone down the drain, huh?
Cassandra gently nudged her, head tilted questioningly.
Right, she was supposed to take out a flying attack helicopter...
Somehow...
-W-
Sticking to the shadows of the nearby buildings, Tanya had evaded the searching light of the helicopter overhead, yet her intention was not to flee. As she palmed her equipment pouch, she stepped out into the open, goading the incoming mobsters with her confident stance.
Dozens of tons of steel and rubber came barrelling towards her in the form of four black jeeps. Their hulls were clearly armoured and the glass in the windows looked thick enough to be bulletproof. The driver in the front saw her standing in the middle of the street and began to yell something, inaudible even to her ears. Barely two seconds later, the roof behind him opened up and an honest to god LMG pushed through. The other trucks followed suit in revealing their impressive arsenal of heavy weaponry, surprising Tanya with
She had to give it to the Bratva... They were definitely not messing around.
Luckily she wouldn't have to fight these things directly.
Throwing down her mist grenade, Gotham's already chilly winter air abruptly turned arctic as the endothermic reaction did its work and made every drop of water condense in a dozen meter radius. Though blinded by the foggy soup in front of them, that didn't stop the Russians from opening fire on where she had been standing just moments prior, ripping apart the asphalt behind her and utterly ruining the facade of the house at the end of the street.
Barking like a horde of mad dogs, the rear mounted guns spit furious thunder in Tanya's direction – their muzzle flashes bright even through the thick mist – and one stray round might have possibly hit her by pure chance at some point if they kept firing, had it not been for the effect of her second grenade. Had the drivers been able to see the lower layer of the fog vanishing into the suddenly very shiny street they might have tried to decelerate, but alas they were too focused on driving down their target.
Thus, when the first car entered into the fog, its driver was highly confused why it felt like his machine had lost contact with the ground entirely. In a manner of speaking, his feelings were not unjustified as he had the questionable honour of experiencing what a vehicle driving at over one hundred kilometres per hour felt like without any friction to counteract its propelling force. The truck's engine howled as its wheels spun freely, unhindered by the slippery ground of Tanya's perfect Ice Mirror.
Drifting helplessly for a scant few heartbeats, neither the driver behind the wheel, nor the gunner in the back of the jeep had any chance to react before they passed by their target standing motionlessly on the ice. Their eyes had barely enough time to drink in her completely still form next to their car – staring at them with hollow eyes and her mask's bloodthirsty grin – before her coiled arm snapped out and redirected their momentum sideways. With just a single push their speeding metal coffin explosively shifted course, instantaneously giving them a severe case of whiplash until they smashed through a building, ending their existence in a shower of collapsing concrete and gasoline fire.
Their companions soon followed, still howling their useless bravery in a berserker rage and unloading their magazines on her presumed position. All she had to do to avoid them however was to slightly crouch and when the second car came into range she did to it much the same as she had done to the first.
Flipping off its side, she transitioned into a direct kick against the passenger door of the third jeep to the right. Pained grunts and careening flood lights in the fog were all that marked their last moments before they as well were ripped apart by flame and shrapnel.
Despite the faint few seconds that separated him from these events, the last driver was either exceptionally quick-witted or cowardly as he had futilely attempted to learn from his predecessors and had begun to brake by partially turning the car. Nonetheless, it was for naught, for he had already entered the growing circle of the Ice Mirror. Screaming for dear life, he never noticed the lithe figure of their target slipping underneath his wildly spinning jeep flipping it at just the right time.
Her fingers left grooves in the metal of its undercarriage as she grabbed onto it and – lying on her back – pushed upwards. For one timeless instant the machine hung in the air, unbound by the shackles of gravity that had anchored it to the ground for its entire existence before it completed its rotation and came crashing down on the ice, pulping the head of the gunner on the back instantly and liquefying some of the driver's internal organs. Their corpses and the upside down jeep kept on sliding until they hit asphalt again, screeching terribly as the mass of metal slowly grinded to a halt.
Tanya was (in her professional opinion) not a narcissist, but she was feeling quite smug about successfully pulling off her spontaneous plan without a hitch. Naturally, this was when the universe decided to remind her again that she was not untouchable.
Her only warning was her surroundings suddenly lighting up to the extreme and then she was already dodging a concentrated surge of bullets from the helicopter that had finally managed to track her down. Not that it was hard to do so with the giant plane of highly reflective ice crystal directly beneath her.
Ice splintered and the street burst open as the minigun mounted on the chopper mercilessly jackhammered into the ground, seeking to pulp her into bloody paste with the deafening volume of lead it hurled at her. Sprinting as fast as her legs allowed her, Tanya kept just ahead of the glowing stream of death, her only saving grace being the heavy weapon's comparatively slow turn speed and its awkward angle.
Catapulting herself through the nearest window, she was thankful for her protective costume or else she might have seriously hurt herself. An old lady cowering in the corner of the room stared at her with wide eyes as she dusted herself off of splinters and glass shards. Ooops.
Absentmindedly, Tanya fished a few bank notes out of her breast pocket and left them on the lady's now dirty carpet before racing off towards the front door of her apartment. She had to get back to the main street. More cars were coming and she didn't plan to give them any time to group up and carry out whatever strategy they had developed to bring her down.
Her pistol in hand, she burst through the backdoor of the house and into a small patio where she ignited one of her flares and threw it onto a propped up stack of garbage sacks. Hopefully the smoke would draw the attention of the helicopter for a while. Dashing back to the front door, she peeked outside. A column of six vans was blocking off the street on the other end, having apparently learned from their comrades' demise and keeping their distance. Though maybe that had been their plan all along, since they did not seem to possess rear mounted LMGs like the others.
Regardless, that was fantastic news.
Priming her second mist grenade, Tanya pitched it low to the ground, making it skip over the frozen asphalt towards the group of men waiting for her. As her newest distraction obfuscated their vision, she slipped outside, carefully keeping her attention on where her biggest threat was flying searching circles overhead.
The mercenaries who Quiet had beaten earlier were still mostly lying in the snow, though some had done her the favour of wobbly getting back to their feet. Unholstering her pistol, Tanya silently walked up behind one guy who was checking up on his friend and jammed her muzzle into the back of his head.
"Don't scream." she whispered harshly into his ear.
Admirably, he did not.
"You are going to take your buddy here and together with everybody else who can stay on their feet slowly walk towards that fog. That's your one ticket out of here, if you want to keep your life. Understood?"
"We're in Russian territory! They'll kill us!" he immediately protested, earning himself a swat to the neck with her gun.
His comrades were listening now, gripping their guns, but unwilling to make the first move.
"No. You're valuable. If anything they'll keep you safe until they can interrogate you about me. Until then the police will probably show up to rescue you. I'll even let you keep your weapons for self-defence. You won't get that chance if you insist on being a liability for me."
She meaningfully clacked the safety of her gun off, making him swallow hard and the others tense.
It didn't matter if what she told him came true or not. His fate was his own responsibility at this point. Those who were prepared to kill had to be prepared to be killed in turn.
In the end, despite some pleas for mercy and heated glares, twelve men half-walked, half-stumbled into the fog; some supporting each other's weight or walking alone, but all with the certitude that this could possibly be their end. None of them had been stupid enough to attack her, even when she had pilfered their spare magazines, but it seemed they nonetheless feared the danger she represented more than their uncertain future. The crushed car wrecks that were stuck in the rubble not too far away might have had something to do with that...
Their silhouettes disappeared into the mist just as the helicopter flew another round over the street, its flood light lingering on the place where the mercenaries had lain mere moments prior. Tanya stood dangerously close to the beam, pressed closely to the withered brickwork and shielded only by the shade of a balcony above before the machine continued on its path.
Vaguely she could hear the voice of the man that she had threatened call out: "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"
Unfortunately his crude diplomatic efforts were not long lived, since just a few seconds after, muzzle flashes began lighting up the fog. Though, judging from the volume of gun fire, the mercenaries were not going down without a fight. Any mafia members they managed to take down to hell with them would be welcome.
Inside the entrance of the house, Pamela must have stacked the six Russians that she entangled in her vines for whatever reasons, because they were still sitting there, trying to appear unassuming, which was slightly comical considering their bulk. Dragging them around as some sort of human shield would take too long and probably be not very effective against hardened criminals anyway. So, Tanya decided to make a different use of them.
"Tell your boss that the Ghost Dragons send their regards."
Her mask was already Asian-themed and thus it wouldn't be a big stretch to connect her to the infamous triad. They operated inside China Town, but were not active outside of it as far as she knew, making them the ideal scapegoat since she had no plans to spend much time in that district.
Furthermore, by implying that her actions were not those of a vulnerable individual, but those of a larger organization, the Bratva's hateful focus would most likely shift away from her person. Of course they would still shoot her on sight, but optimistically they wouldn't send entire squads after her like a poor imitation of Soviet-era human wave tactics. Tanya certainly didn't want a repeat of today's events any time soon.
She was unable to leave any more cryptic, misleading messages, because she could already hear another five cars showing up. These Russians just kept coming...
Hopefully Pamela would take out that blasted helicopter soon or they would have to prepare for a siege...
-W-
Paaa-Mee-Laa had signed her to be cautious, not that she needed to be told that, considering that the bad people who captured her lived here. Well, not them directly, but similar ones. They smelled and dressed alike at least.
So it did not come to her surprise when an apartment door on the second floor opened behind them. Cassandra pretended to be oblivious to the two men sneaking up behind them, despite how poorly they were doing it. Even a child would have noticed them.
... Or maybe not, considering that Paaa-Mee-Laa failed to do so, frantically ranting to herself as she stroked her chin in deep concentration.
Whirling around, she caught the rusty crowbar that the old guy was swinging at her, twisting his arm and watching as the ugly hatred surrounding him switched to pain and fear. The teenager to his left recognized that their attempted ambush was doomed and mustered some weak and fake courage to take a stab at her with his kitchen knife.
Effortlessly bending out of the way, Cassandra stepped into his guard and socked him directly into the solar plexus. As he gasped in complete shock, she brought the two bad guy's heads together, knocking them out.
They both unceremoniously flopped to the ground as she sent Paaa-Mee-Laa, who was just staring at her in open-mouthed wonder, a reassuring nod. Yep, the plant-woman had not yet internalized that she wasn't a weak little girl. In a way, that only increased Cassandra's fondness for her, because it meant that she truly valued her as a person beyond her ability to hurt others.
Her saviour's expression morphed into resigned amusement as she fondly shook her head, going right back to her muttering. There were some loud noises outside, but Cassandra was content to observe her gradually developing a plan as she paced up and down the hallway. Finally, Paaa-Mee-Laa turned to face Cassandra again and began relaying instructions.
Together they explored the ramshackle apartment that their latest attackers had hidden in, hastily filling the bathtub and rummaging through the cabinets for food. She saw a little boy hiding under the kitchen table, but she felt bad for him, so she left him a bag with crackers, so he wouldn't be too hungry. Paaa-Mee-Laa also signed her to bring the stinky trash, which they all threw in the tub.
The plan-woman did some cool gestures with her hands and the slimy muck turned into a big green ball that kind of looked like a really big flower bud. She didn't know how that worked, but Paaa-Mee-Laa had shown her that plants needed water and soil just like humans needed water and food. Did that mean that food was made from soil or was soil secretly food? When she had tried eating dirt in the past it had always tasted terrible and given her stomach aches, so who knew?
The flower bud was really heavy and slimy, but they managed to carry it outside and up the stairs to the rooftop. There, Paaa-Mee-Laa dropped the thing behind the water tower in the middle and made it grow roots into the ground. They had to hide when the loud flying machine came back and it was kind of scary. Cassandra didn't know how to fight something that could fly without killing everybody inside. Therefore she paid extra special attention to what Paaa-Mee-Laa was doing.
At first the upper leaves of the ball began to peel open and it swelled up even more. Then there were a lot of yelling and gunshot sounds from below which made her flinch and the flying machine came closer to their hideout under the water tower. And when it flew back around in a circle, the weird plant ball burst open and spat out something too fast for her to track. There was a lot of slime spraying everywhere which was definitely gross, but also super awesome, because Paaa-Mee-Laa built it.
She could only guess that whatever it spit out was supposed to hit the flying machine, but due to its movement and the darkness she couldn't make out anything. Based on her saviour's emotions though, it didn't, which was bad.
Paaa-Mee-Laa laid her hand on the bulb and it closed up and reformed again, although now it was a bit smaller. Once more it fired and this time the projectile found its mark, if the plant-woman's joyous body language was anything to go by. That elation was short-lived however, because the guy steering the flying machine had also noticed something hitting his vehicle. The bright light on its front swivelled around until it found the remains of the bulb and by extension them hiding right behind it.
Cassandra didn't need to understand what her friend was yelling to realize that they had get out of there quickly!
Bullets ripped through the plant, narrowly missing them as they both jumped towards opposite directions. Paaa-Mee-Laa screamed something at her, but the sounds were drowned out by the big gun shredding the groaning metal hull of the water tower into rusty pieces while it tried to hit her. The surge of bullets was following her friend with relentless precision and Cassandra dreaded where this was going.
She narrowed her eyes, her moving body suffused with only one thought: They would not hurt her friend. She would not allow it.
Straining her stunted vocal cords, she forced herself to produce the loudest noise she could.
"AAAAaAAaaaahhh-a!" she roared hoarsely into the night, staring in defiance at the machine spewing death in the direction of her saviour.
And it worked.
The light swivelled towards her and this time she understood very well what Paaa-Mee-Laa was trying to tell her. Even she could tell the meaning of "NOOO!"
It hurt her to cause her such anguish, but this way the plant-woman would have time to escape from the rooftop. Her love for the world was too beautiful to die here. Much more beautiful than a broken girl like her could ever be.
Yet, just as the flying machine prepared to end her existence, a fiery explosion ripped apart its tail, causing it to spin out of control at a nauseating angle. For one brief moment, Cassandra could see flashing red lights behind the glass on its front and hear faint beeping, as its rear began to rise and it turned sideways towards the building. In the next, she had been tackled to the floor by a teary eyed woman.
Paaa-Mee-Laa enveloped her in a crushing embrace that smelled of flowers and love and relief... and Cassandra didn't know how to deal with it. Ultimately she decided for calmly stroking her – twice now – saviour's back.
Far below them something exploded again, but she closed her eyes and tried not to think of anybody that might be hurt. It would be useless when the most important person in her life was right there and needed her comfort.
Or that was what she told herself, at least...
-W-
Barbara had done excellent work as usual when she informed him of the situation, but a mugging on the way had unfortunately delayed him. So he had apparently arrived too late. Smoke was rising into the cloudy sky and gunshots were ringing out. Grappling onto a snow-covered gargoyle statue overlooking the street, Batman surveyed the crime scene with trained eyes.
Broken cars littered both sides of the road, though both were arranged in distinctly different ways. On the left, three - what looked to be military-grade jeeps were embedded into the nearby houses, greatly threatening their stability, while on the right side a helicopter appeared to have crashed into a formation of vans. Casualties from that event were likely in the dozens and more lay scattered about in a pattern most typical of a shootout.
There were also signs of something more unnatural going on than simple gang violence. A giant shiny plate of ice covered a lengthy swathe of the street, reflecting the light of the fires in the area with uncanny sharpness. Furthermore, there was an abnormal amount of fog saturating the air, though it was already dispersing due to the heat of the nearby burning helicopter wreckage.
All of that, however, could wait for a later investigation. First, he had to find the source of the gunshots. He unfurled his cape and glided over to the side alley where the sounds originated from.
His lip curled in displeasure as he stared down at the absolute slaughter on the ground. Twenty men lay motionlessly in the snow, slowly staining it red. Strangely, he could make out icicles sticking into them. And in the middle of the macabre arrangement of cooling corpses stood none other than his newest source of headaches.
"Oh, it's Batman..." she simply stated and looked directly at him through that white mask of hers, sounding mildly annoyed by the observation. "Fancy meeting you here."
Her enhanced senses were even better than the calculations suggested.
Descending with a flap of his cape, Batman blocked her exit out of the alley.
"White Lady, did you kill all these people?" he asked neutrally, although some of his anger might have slipped through.
He hoped she would be different, but she was quickly becoming just another psycho in his ever growing list of enemies.
"No. I didn't kill anybody." White Lady lied as easily as if she was talking about the weather.
He could hear the subtle smile in her voice.
"They killed themselves."
"Don't play games with me, White Lady. I looked past your activities until now, because you spared the lives of the criminals you came across, but then you do this. Why?"
"I told you... They killed themselves. It's factually true."
What was she playing at? Some legal loophole? Had she staged this somehow? Mind control? Hypnosis?
"Explain." Batman growled.
"I'm technically a third party in this conflict. When I arrived to scout out the building, unknown mercenaries were already staging an assault. There were civilians inside, so obviously I intervened. Then the Bratva sent all these units to hunt me down and they clashed with the mercenaries. They even brought an attack helicopter, can you believe it? Did you ever have to deal with something so annoying before?"
Her tone was light like they were drinking tea together and he didn't appreciate it. Such playfulness usually meant the villains thought they had an ace up their sleeve. It made them overconfident, but from time to time they would actually have a formidable surprise prepared.
"Irrelevant. Did you crash that helicopter?"
"Goodness, no! I actually have no idea how that happened. But that it fell on their own men was a... happy little accident."
Batman gritted his teeth in disgust.
"Is this funny to you?"
"Of course not. I'm not a monster! But it's hard to feel sympathy for those hoodlums who wanted to kill me."
"And what's this?"
He broadly gestured towards the carnage around them.
"I was just innocently securing the perimeter and these gentlemen thought it would be a good idea to jump me. I panicked, quite understandably, and there must have been icicles up on the roof because from one moment to the next... you know..."
The masked woman had the gall to shrug her shoulders.
"And that?"
He nodded towards the bloody knife in her grip.
"He ran into my blade. Poor eyesight probably."
"Do you expect me to believe those lies? White Lady, this has gone too far. Turn yourself in or I will be forced to detain you."
"Hold up, wait!" she placatingly held up her hands; her knife included. "Before we get to that... Do you want to know why I prefer to go for a nonlethal approach? Those thugs were just doing their jobs. You and I may shake our heads at what exactly those jobs were – human trafficking, drug trade, extortion, murder or merely standing guard... But the simple truth of the matter is that they were simply following orders. Their superiors told them to do this or that and they obeyed like any good employee should! On a whole, their actions may be harmful to society, but within their little organization that provides their income? It's just good business! I can't begrudge them for that..."
What was she playing at? Did she want to win his sympathy?
"That's it? And how are these poor souls any different from the gangsters you merely knocked out?"
Her tone turned wistful and she averted her cerulean eyes, looking down at the ground.
"I believe that everyone should have the ability to chase their own dreams, make their own path in the world... That is what personal freedom really means. And when someone violently infringes upon my path, seeking to cut it short... Is it not my moral obligation as a free human being to resist with all my might? These men came for me with the sole intention of shooting me dead. I did my best to avoid that. The end results speak for themselves."
She didn't seem like an idealist, but humans had layers. Was money part of her self-image; intrinsically tied to her own personal freedom? Was this her motive behind the robberies and the murder of the Joker?
"Regardless... Today's events will almost certainly save many lives!"
"What do you mean?" he followed up, intent on keeping her talking.
After all, the more she revealed about herself and her motivations, the better he would be able to predict her future actions.
"It's similar to the Cold War. Only through the potential of excessive force on either side could greater bloodshed be prevented. If people become hesitant to attack me, then I won't see the need to defend myself, inevitably saving lives! It's quite humane, isn't it?"
"That's not how this works."
Violence attracted only ever more violence. There were plenty of bloodthirsty or plain insane villains out there who would delight upon meeting a powerful foe to clash against.
"Oh, really? Well, I suppose I'll take your word for it then. You are the expert in that field after all! Over a decade of work and Gotham is still the same crime-ridden cesspool it was before. Possibly even worse, considering that back then we didn't have nearly as many supervillains running around."
She was clearly trying to get under his skin, but it was not working. Batman knew what he stood for and what he had to do. Even if his life's work were all for nothing, as long as he saved a single person then it would have been worth it.
White Lady probably also knew that, so this had to be a distraction.
"Cease this prattle and tell me what you really want."
Suddenly her entire demeanour shifted and he could feel the hairs on his neck raise. Purely observing her body language, it was like looking at a different person altogether!
"I was really just waiting here to bait out any stragglers into revealing themselves, but you will take care of that now, yes? I'm not usually one for saddling others with my busywork, but interrogating them might prove useful to you. There is one suspicious car around the corner and another to the left. I don't think they're Bratva to be honest..."
He recalled his memory of the neighbourhood and mentally marked the approximate locations of the vehicles she described. It could be either a trap or another distraction, but he would investigate it nonetheless.
"So anyways, this should have bought enough time for my companion to escape unnoticed, I hope. I wish you a good night!" White Lady politely offered, while tensing her legs.
Knowing what she was about to do, he reached out for her immediately, but she was already in the process of slapping his hand away before his fingers had uncurled. Leaving behind a gust of wind she leapt up the facade and soon disappeared over the edge of the roof.
Batman did not bother following her, for he had another method of finding her. Looking at his wrist he watched the tiny green dot of his tracker move further and further away-
Before it suddenly went out.
In lieu of the curse that rested on his lips he simply scoffed and stalked away...