Boughs of Violence
"Breaking news: violence has broken out all over Gotham! Approximately ten minutes ago, the first reports of gunfire close to the 3rd National Bank started coming in to 911 and other emergency lines. From there the violence is getting worse and everyone is recommended to stay in their homes, do not answer the door for anyone, and keep safe until—"
"—can hear the gunshots from here and—oh, what's that? I think I'm hearing more gunshots over there. Rapidfire, sounds like automatics are involved. You can hear the sirens now, police are on their way—"
"-reports coming in on gunfire just outside of the Diamond District. Hold on, Jack, I am hearing that calls are coming in on the emergency line—"
The news was a little behind, like always. Still, they were belatedly getting the word out. If you wanted to get more up to date knowledge, get on the police wire.
"—there's a shooting Fillmore and 29th. Any available officers reported to Fillmore and 29th—"
"—I need backup! Shots fired! Shots fired!"
"Officer down! Officer down! Down by the Riverfront, over by Taft, I need backup!"
There were so many replies coming in, all demanding backup. From where she sat at her station, Barbara tapped at her keyboard, getting visuals on every single attack that was happening simultaneously throughout Gotham. Scarface had not been kidding when he had declared war, and right now the city was rapidly descending into a warzone.
Commissioner Sawyer had anticipated this and had sent home all unnecessary personnel while calling in every officer, duty and off duty, even those on vacation. The GCPD would only be able to respond to the violence, not stop it before it happened. Forensics would be busy in the morning, collecting any and all evidence they could to try and put those responsible behind bars.
As Oracle, Barbara had an option that Sawyer didn't. She had the Network, and she was activating the whole damn thing.
"I hope everyone wasn't planning on having a nice, calm night. We got trouble everywhere. Some of the first locations are by the Diamond District, east side on Adams. Got another one on the Riverfront, heading towards Taft. Speak up people and grab whoever you want because more is coming in."
Multiple voices called in an affirmative. Good. Everyone was going to need to move fast if they wanted to contain this before someone got the bright idea of setting the city on fire. Again.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise that a union office had been a front for the mob. It was well documented that the mob had infiltrated labor unions and used them as a piggy bank to fund various rackets.
So when the latest upstart to organized crime sent his newly-recruited army out to cause as much damage as possible to one of the oldest, and last standing crime families around, a union office by the docks had become a target.
The attacks were everywhere though, so the various Network operatives were essentially on their own. Huntress had no problem with this as she knew what she could handle. The smashing of windows, the shadows that flooded out of the office building as it was ransacked, the sound of guns being fired for whatever reason—she had this. What's more, she had it right out of the Bat's mouth that he wanted little mercy to be shown.
That opened up a lot of possibilities.
For instance, Huntress grappled over to the office, swinging in towards the smashed window. It was one of those large ones, like a storefront window made to display various goods. Before this current riot, the window was pretty much only good to show people walking down the street the desks and people working inside of the office. There really wasn't anything to steal aside from staplers and paperclips, but that's not why you ransacked a union office.
Swinging in, she led with her feet forward and ended up slamming them into the back of some goon's head. The force of her blow sent him forward, crying out until his face smashed into the side of one of the desks. He collapsed onto his stomach on the floor, even as Huntress landed on the desk, her knees bent as she crouched on it.
Immediately she spotted four other guys, each one with guns in their hands. Two were handguns, the other two machine guns. Those needed to be dealt with first.
Dropping her hands to her belt, Huntress pulled out a number of H-shaped shuriken. Whipping her arms out, she sent the projectiles flying through the air. One of the men had raised up his handgun and managed to fire a shot, one that missed the purple-clad vigilante thankfully.
As for her shuriken, her aim was a lot better. In fact, not only did it strike the gun, knocking it out of the goon's hands, but it ricocheted off of the weapon and went right into the man's eye. A wild scream rang out as he immediately clutched at his face, dropping to his knees before falling onto his side, his legs kicking about as he writhed in pain.
As for the other guns, they were knocked out of their wielders' grasps, disarming the men in quick succession. One H-shaped shuriken even embedded itself into the hand of a gunman, causing him to grab at the wrist of his hand as he cried out in pain.
Leaping off of the desk, Huntress then pulled out her staff, flicking a small switch so that its ends extended out. Landing on the floor in front of one of the goons, she immediately got to work, swinging the bo staff low and striking her opponent on the side of his knee. The knee buckled, causing the man to twist his body as he began to fall over.
With her staff across her body due to her low swing, Huntress arced it upwards before backswing it, cracking her weapon across the falling man's face. His head snapped to a side and he dropped to the floor, going completely limp the moment he landed.
:"Hey! What the hell—!" a voice exclaimed towards the front of the office. Huntress whipped her head and saw another gunman standing outside of the broken window. No doubt he was a lookout to let the others know when to leave. In response to seeing him, Huntress threw her staff at him, the weapon spinning through the air, going end over end in a circular blur. The man froze, or didn't know the first rule of dodging, but he took the spinning staff head on and lost, her staff colliding against him and knocking him off of his feet as he cried out.
Returning her attention to the two remaining goons, she saw the one with a shuriken in his hand close by. In fact, there was a desk in between them, which she immediately jumped over, sliding across it on her hip. She knocked over some office supplies, but who cared about those? Landing in front of the man, she immediately threw a haymaker, her fist slamming against the side of his face. His head snapped to the side, but the dark-haired woman didn't let him stumble away, oh no. She grabbed onto his shirt and pulled him back the other way, using her foot to kick out his knee and cause him to drop down. One of her hands found its way to the side of his head and she used it to slam his head down onto the side of the desk next to them. She pulled his head back and slammed it down again, over and over, before she paused, punched him again, then dropped him to the floor.
Naturally, that's when a gunshot rang out, causing pieces of the desk to go flying up into the air.
Immediately, Huntress dropped down, using the desks next to her as cover. "Eat lead, you bitch!" she heard a rather familiar voice shout, even as the gun fired over and over.
Waiting for the gunshots to end, Huntress peered over the desk once she heard a curse and the sound of a magazine ejecting out of a gun. She saw the last man and—hey! That was her cousin, Ricky! Did he join Scarface's side? The family was going to be pissed about that.
And you can bet the fact that he was her cousin wasn't going to spare him any more pain than she had already inflicted.
Pulling out her crossbow, Huntress immediately stood up and took a shot. The bolt fired, flying through the air, and went right through Ricky's knees. A wild howl ripped out of Ricky's lips as he dropped to the floor, losing his empty gun as he gripped at his knee. Casually, Huntress pulled out another bolt and reloaded her crossbow, walking over to her injured cousin.
"You bitch! You're dead! Do you hear me?!" her cousin screamed in anger.
"Bitch, huh?" Huntress repeated as she stood next to the man. She then pointed the crossbow down at him and fired it, skewering his other knee, and causing him to scream even louder. It had been a long time since she had spoken to this walking piece of shit that she doubted he would recognize her. "Want to run that by me again?"
"You're gonna pay for this, you bitch!" Ricky shouted at her. "You, your family, everyone is gonna get whacked!"
"Yeah, not gonna happen," Huntress responded, reloading her crossbow again. "At least, you won't. See, the Bat has told every do-gooder around that if any of you wiseguys answered Scarface's call, we can do just about anything to you aside from killing you. He wants us to cripple you all." She then pointed her crossbow down at her cousin, specifically aiming at his groin. "So, the question is, how would you like to live the rest of your life as a eunuch?"
Ricky just whimpered in response.
When the alarm had started going off, it had been the plan to stick together. Then Oracle started talking, the size and scope of this mess became so much more bigger. It was so widespread that to get to it all, that would mean splitting up.
Bluebird had not been against this. She had arrived at her first destination and she was packing. Up ahead, cars were blocking the street and were being used by armed men who were busy shooting at one another.
Distantly, she could hear the sirens slowly growing louder, so she was going to need to make this quick. With her taser rifle in hand, that's what she meant to do.
If you thought for a second that she was just standing out in the middle of the street, you'd be so wrong. There were bullets flying around, you know? Just incredibly stupid, that's what that was. No, she was peeking around a corner, hidden in an alley and doing her best to take stock of the situation.
The cars that were keeping the mobsters safe were going to be a problem. Blowing them up might be a step too far, but getting them out of the way…
Well, making them next to useless might help with that.
First, as she stepped out of the alley, battle plan in mind, Bluebird took aim and rapidly fired several electrical surges. She didn't need to be one hundred percent accurate, just enough to strike the targets. The handful of mobsters with their backs turned to her were way too tempting to pass up.
Bolts struck, bodies seized up, some spasmed, but they all fell down. Some of the mobsters on the other side hesitated, distracted by the flashes of light, but once she started targeting them, they began using their cars once more to hide. Bullets were now aimed at him, but as she had been firing, the blue-haired vigilante had been closing in and was now using the fallen mobsters' cars as her own barriers.
Right, she had gotten this far. Now to take these vehicles out of play. The sirens were getting louder and none of these assholes could be allowed to escape. From her belt, she slipped out several gray discs. A thumb pressed directly in the center of each one triggered a flashing red light, indicating that each was activated.
Flicking a wrist, she threw each disc out, one at a time, not bothering to watch as they skidded across the pavement. The second a disc began to slow, magnetism kicked in. Each flipped as they were drawn upwards, attaching themselves to the bottom of each car that they were thrown to.
Blinking red became solid, then abruptly shut off. So did the cars as each one died, internal computers being fried and automatically disengaging the engines. There had been a low rumble from all the engines, but even with the gunfire, the silence was unnerving. Shouts began to be added to the ruckus, no one understanding what had happened.
Bluebird took this chance to take a couple more shots before she was pinned down again. One mobster was hit, another got lucky as that shot missed him. Returning bullets struck the barrel of her rifle and she had to pull back.
Okay, needed to think of something else. Back pressed against the vehicle behind her, a look straight ahead had her scowling. Flashing red and blue. Cops would be here shortly. What to do, what to do…
Eyes searched around, and then she found salvation. Slipping out a batarang, a tongue stuck out of her mouth as she aimed. She wasn't as good at throwing these things like Batgirl or Spoiler, but at this distance? Well, she got the fire hydrant and then the batarang blew.
A torrent of water fired out, pushing one dead car back a bit but other than that, nothing else. Count down the seconds, let the water do its work.
The gunfire stopped for a second because of the damaged hydrant, but then one brave soul shouted out, "Is that the best you got?!"
Casually pulling out a taser, she squeezed the bottom, watched as a small bolt of electricity flared out of the top. The blue was a nice shade. A press of a button kept it on, and then with a toss, it was flung towards the hydrant.
The taser touched water, the same water that had been flowing all over the street at this point, lapping around rubber wheels and the shoes of the mobsters shooting at her. Just like that, none of them were shooting anymore. Sure, there were a few spats of bullets, but that had to be from the sudden death grips the triggers were going under.
As soon as only sirens could be heard, Bluebird brazenly stood up and looked over her handiwork. Huh, didn't think hair stood out like that, but it seemed she lucked out on the right voltage there. So Hollywood wasn't entirely full of bullshit. Thanks to the conductive effects of water, the taser had shorted out, which was why she plucked it out of the spewing water without a second thought.
Right, one fight down, a shit ton more left.
His name was Carl Jones. Everyone called him Jonesy, though. Everyone that mattered at least.
Jonesy had been working the streets for a long time. He had done so faithfully for the Calabreses, and he had been able to make a decent living. That was until this new boss showed up and changed things up. She had put all of their chips into some stupid power plant thing and it was really hurting the family's bottom line—particularly his bottom line.
So when this Scarface guy showed up and offered something new, Jonesy jumped at the opportunity.
That opportunity led him and a whole bunch of the boys to where they were now, standing outside the building where the new boss stayed. He and the boys were about to let this braindead bitch know that she had messed up. She never should have gotten away from what was working for this…public works project? They were hemorrhaging money! His money! She had to pay for that, one way or the other.
"Light it up, boys!" someone shouted and a number of guns began firing. Jonesy was one of them, firing up a machine gun towards the upper levels of the building. The street in front of the penthouse was filled with the lower level thugs, each wanting a hand in their two-week notice with a hailstorm of bullets. He couldn't see if he was hitting anything, but it hardly mattered. There must have been thirty of them there, and they were all firing automatic weapons. Someone was going to hit something.
The deafening roar of gunfire came to a sudden stop, mostly because all of the magazines ran out of bullets. Pulling out a fresh clip, Jonesy pulled out the used one and shoved the new one in. Pointing his gun back up into the air, he began to fire again.
He didn't fire more than a couple shots though, mostly because he heard something else. It grew louder, loud enough for a machine gun not to be able to drown it out. Then he heard someone shout, "Look out!"
Turning his head, Jonesy's eyes widened before he darted to one side. A black car raced by him, ramming into several of the boys that had been around him. The men cried out as they were swept off of their feet, bouncing over the hood of the car and falling off of it, landing on the ground hard. One guy that hit the ground immediately grabbed at his leg, screaming his head off. Even from where he stood, Jonsey could see a jagged piece of bone sticking out of his leg, clearly indicating the leg was broken.
However, Jonesy was no idiot. His eyes followed the car and he knew exactly what it was. There was only one car like it in the entire city, after all.
It was the goddamn Batmobile.
It wasn't going all that fast, maybe thirty, thirty five miles an hour. But it was fast enough to run over a lot of the boys. Somehow, none of the boys went underneath the tires, instead having their legs knocked out from underneath them and each man bouncing over and off the car's hood. Then, it abruptly hit the brakes, the Batmobile coming to a stop right in front of the new boss' penthouse.
"Kill that Bat!" someone shouted then.
Jonesy immediately stormed up to the Batmobile, firing his machine gun at it. Sparks erupted all over the black metal of the car, bullets striking it from several different directions.
However, a few of the boys suddenly dropped then, screaming their heads off. One was right next to Jonesy, startling him enough to stop shooting. Looking at the guy, he noticed a fresh bullet wound in his shoulder, which he was grabbing at.
It took him a moment to realize what just happened. "Stop shooting!" he began hollering. "We're hitting each other with the ricochet!"
Because of course they were. No one had managed to turn the Batmobile into Swiss cheese in all the years it had been on the streets; why would this be any different?
The other boys either heard him, or got shot up enough to stop firing. Either way, that left a smaller crowd of men pointing their guns at the car, just waiting for the Bat to come out of it. He was in there, and the moment he popped his pointy bat head out, he was getting an ass full of lead in him.
It had started outside, but the battle had moved into a store. Redbird believed it was called a convenience store. Regardless, the perpetrators had smashed their way in, the front end of a van damaging the pull down security fence that had blocked off the store's entrance, and through damaged windows did these criminals fire at anyone deemed a threat.
Redbird indeed was a threat. He started with the ones on the outside, taking them down one by one. From left to right he moved, surgical stabs of his fingers into trapezius and sternocleidomastoid muscles, pressing down on pressure points and nerves to incapacitate followed by vicious blows to either the head, torso, and other extremities. More than one face graced either the side of an automobile or the street under them. At least one was going to need a dentist.
From the right and moving left, his tagalong made much slower work, getting two to Redbird's eight. It was obvious that despite his powers, this kind of violence was of the type the self-styled Abuse was not used to. However, if you were to peer beneath that dumb hat he was wearing and into the shadows the brim cast over his face, one could read excitement there.
Without the returning gunfire, the criminals in the convenience story were still shooting. This could not go unanswered.
"I am going to neutralize the threat. Make sure no one interferes," he ordered the newcomer.
Not waiting for a response, Redbird removed a small canister from his belt and threw it towards the damaged storefront. In seconds, a cloud of smoke—in appearance only, tear gas did more than obstruct vision—billowed out and filled the air. Gradually, the gunfire slowed until it came to a stop. The criminals inside were effectively distracted.
His mask shielded his eyes, and a small breathing apparatus would keep his lungs free of the aerosol irritant. Redbird darted towards the store, angling for where the van was rammed into the front entrance.
There was not a lot of space, but he still possessed a thin enough frame to slide against the ground, going under the damaged security gate and the gap preserved by the van pinning it. Inside of the store, some of the tear gas had gotten in, and only meters away was one of the criminals.
It was a curious maneuver, twisting his body while kicking his legs out, one of his booted feet hooking around a leg. His other leg redirected so that he could pin the criminal's leg between his own and fully rolling his body about had the effect of destabilizing the captured leg and forcing the distracted man to the floor.
Pushing his upper body up with one arm, Redbird held up the other, palm flat with fingers curled, then lashed out and struck the criminal in the forehead. The back of the man's head rebounded against the floor, further dazing him.
Recalling Father's words, Redbird bent his knees which pulled the still captured leg up until it was perpendicular with the floor. Reaching both of his arms out, he wrapped them around the shin and pull sharply, bending the knee until-
A loud screech came out of the criminal's mouth, and an elbow drop to the jaw shut him up. Unfortunately, the scream had alerted the other criminals to his presence, and bullets began being fired randomly in his direction. In a scramble, Redbird threw himself between two shelves, each one loaded with various food items. These items seemingly exploded, their contents bursting out as bullets traveled through them.
He had cover, but not for long. One of his father's shuriken, a batarang as the masses called them was removed from his belt. Lashing his arm out, he threw the throwing projectile, his aim dead on as one of the pursuing criminals appeared at the end of the shopping aisle. The man was not ready as the batarang slammed into his face.
Not waiting to see what would happen next, the young vigilante continued to race down the aisle and reach its end. Directly in front were the coolers and behind their transparent doors were bottles of various unhealthy substances, be they alcoholic or not. Grabbing a handle, he opened a door, seized several bottles then darted to his right to take cover in the next aisle. No sooner had he done so that the opened cooler door was decimated by several rounds of bullets.
Keeping low to the floor, he waited for the shooting to stop, then acted. Taking one bottle in hand, he peeked out long enough to throw it, hitting the gunman's shin. Then got a swear, the man almost jumping on one leg and losing his balance. A second bottle was thrown, this one maintaining a straight trajectory bottom first, and striking the throat when the man did another hop. Coughing and choking as the criminal fell onto his posterior and then a third bottle slammed into the face, hitting with enough force to shatter. Glass shards cut into skin and the alcoholic contents burned the injuries.
More screaming, and Redbird went on the run again. Up ahead, another of the criminals appeared, and a swift jerk to the vigilante's left was all that kept him from being hit by the first gunshot. His shoulder dug into the bags of chips and other foodstuff, dislodging many of them in his wake.
Practically clumsy, he was able to throw another batarang, the throwing projectile slicing through the air and miraculously managing to block the gun barrel with one of its sharp tips. A second gunshot, but this one backfired on the criminal. Yes, the batarang might as well have been destroyed, but collateral damage meant that the criminal's hands were also severely damaged.
The bastard had no idea what was coming for him, and Redbird educated him. A leap followed up with a swinging kick snapped the man's head to the right. Spittle slipped out from the man's mouth—disgusting. The two of them fell down to the floor with Redbird landing on the man's torso, inadvertently pinning the injured hands down with his body.
Taking advantage, Redbird gave a swift strike to the injured criminal's head, the cranium bouncing against the floor where a second strike repeated it. Father wanted some brutality, so a third strike—
"Fuckin' kid! You're dead!"
It was the only warning Redbird had as he snapped his head around, found two remaining armed criminals in plain view, both of them with their weapons trained on him. Had one of them not spoken, they would have had the chance to shoot and kill him. His body was already preparing to move, take advantage of the stupid slip.
He didn't need to. Due to him being the focus of all attention, neither of the two criminals were aware of Abuse who came up from behind and bashed both of their heads together. Eyes rolled up and two bodies crumpled.
"That was awesome," Abuse gasped out, and you could still hear the adrenaline in the metahuman's voice.
Not bothering to look, Redbird gave the criminal he was still atop of that last third strike, then stood up. "Your timing could be better, but it is acceptable for now," he allowed. Pausing, he listened and picked up the sounds from the only still conscious criminal still in the store. The one that had glass in his face. Maybe a dose of unconsciousness would spare him pain.
Cracking his knuckles as he stalked to the back of the store, he said, "One last piece of unfinished business here and we move to the next location."
Shortly after, the groans and moans of pain came to an end.
She hadn't started as a natural born fighter. That was something she had to learn, at first through self-defense classes, then from various martial art centers, then honing them through hard won experience, and then perfecting them while getting additional pointers in Star City with Ollie.
It meant that Black Canary had become a competent hand-to-hand fighter. It wasn't often she got a chance to really use them. Tonight, however, was an exception.
A gangster screamed in agony as she snapped his arm like a twig, bone breaking the skin. His scream stopped when she rammed his head into a car window and let him slump. Fluidly, she moved on to the next one, quickly disarming, landing rapidfire jabs into his ribs, gave two quick blows to either side of the head, then ended with a flip over herself. Keeping hold of one arm, she slammed a foot onto the fallen man's chest, yanked up and twisted, causing a dislocation in the shoulder.
A couple of throwing projectiles were used to knock aside any guns that were aimed at her. Her Canary Cry was an option, but she had to be careful with it. It was too easy to kill with it, and that was why learning how to fight was important for her.
Reaching her next victim, made sure to wretch the barrel of gun away from her, used the firearm as a fulcrum to tear it out of the mobster's grip, then thrust its butt end right into his face. Blood spurted out from a broken nose, and while male hands covered the face, Black Canary adjusted her grip on the automatic rifle to make it into a makeshift club.
Into the side of the mobster's head it hit. A leg slipped forward to knock stumbling ones out of balance, and another man was down. Reversing, Black Canary threw the automatic weapon, aiming it to knocking away a recovering mobster's weapon. Lunging forward, she rammed into the armed man, bringing her knee into his gut.
Hands collapsed together and were brought down on the back on the dazed man's neck. Hands relocated to either side of the man's head, forced it up only to bring it back down to her knee after she had withdrawn it from his stomach region.
The leather-clad vigilante continued on the warpath, whoever got in her way was taken down brutally as per Batman's instruction. This meant broken bones, the majority either being in the arms or the ribs. Just to spice things up, she tried to focus on a couple of legs, but when one still tried to shoot her, she gave that unfortunate soul two broken wrists and messed up the hand that had aimed death at her.
Some of these men were bigger, in height, width, and weight, but none of it mattered. Hell, she brought out a few Ms. Hoagie moves because she was curious if they still worked. They did.
Before she knew it, it was over. There were injured gangsters all over the place, groaning and moaning in agony from all sorts of injuries. Time to call up an ambulance, and thanks to all this, that kind help was going to be slow in coming. Too many places, too many scenes of violence, and all of them had to be attended to.
Further down the street, tires squealed against the road, two vehicles turning the corner onto this street. SUVs, picking up speed, and heading in her direction. Rapid flashes along with your typical gunshots, someone in those cars was shooting at her. Aim was off because none of the fired bullets whizzed close to her.
Standing her ground, Black Canary took in a breath, concentrated, then unleashed a Canary Cry. She made sure that her mouth was extra wide, all the better to make a wave instead of a burst. This wave of a Cry hit both of the vehicles, neither standing a chance.
It was impressive how both were flipped onto their roofs, skidding in the opposite direction of herself. Watching as they came to a stop, Black Canary casually strolled towards them. That would give time for those still conscious to try to pull themselves out, and by the time they had done that, then she would make sure that they were out for the count.
Then she would call for the next ambulance.
The focus was on his car. It usually was. Scarface's men were quickly coming to the conclusion they shouldn't shoot at it as it was bouncing off their shots and hitting their own.
From above, Batman descended on them. The man he landed on top of never saw him coming, his body crumbling as the vigilante's feet struck the tops of his shoulders. He cried out, but was cut off as he hit the ground hard.
"Jonesy!" a nearby gunman cried out, twisting around to take aim with his machine gun. Batman was on him in an instant, his hands grabbing onto the barrel and base of the weapon. He twisted it so that the gun was held horizontally in the air, the butt of the weapon pressed against the elbow. Pulling down on the barrel and pushing up against the stock, Batman leveraged the gun, snapping the man's arm, causing him to scream. His trigger finger spasmed from and he pulled down hard on the trigger.
The machine gun began to fire. Pulling on the machine gun, the vigilante began to spin around in a circle, pulling the thug with him even as he continued squeezing the trigger. The surrounding men's eyes went wide before they dove for cover, bullets flying over their heads. Some even dropped behind the otherside of his car to avoid getting shot. Once he was certain the other men weren't about to return fire, Batman stopped his spinning and raised a foot up. He then stomped it against the side of his captive's knee, causing it to buckle, if not break as well. The man cried out as he dropped to one knee, shrieking in pain. Pulling back his closest arm, he then slammed a punch into the side of the man's face, the force of the blow sending him face first into the pavement. His legs actually swung up into the air, spasming for a moment, before they fell back to the ground.
All around him, he could see Scarface's men scrambling to get back onto their feet, groping for their guns. One man was faster than the others though, popping up from the other side of the Dark Knight's car. He immediately began yelling as he started firing his machine gun.
He got a few shots off, but not before Batman had his grapple gun in hand and fired it right at his new target. The grapple claw flew through the air until it attached itself on the gunman's chest, surprising him long enough to abruptly stop shooting.
Simultaneously, Batman hit the retraction button even as he pulled on the line, his upper body twisting to one side. This caused the gunman to be lifted off of the ground as he flew over the black car. He was screaming as he closed in on the Dark Knight. Letting go of the grapple gun, which dropped to the ground, the flying man's momentum kept him flying towards the vigilante. Twisting his body back the other way, Batman threw a haymaker, one that struck the man on his chest, just below where the grapple claw was attached. The force of his blow stopped his opponent in midair, then sent him backwards, where he slammed into the side of the car. Lunging forward, Batman led with a raised knee, one that rammed into the man's face, snapping cartilage as the nose broke. The back of his head cracked against the side of the car, causing him to go limp.
That was when another gunman rose onto his feet. He was right next to the Dark Knight and tried to fire a handgun point blank at him. His aim was atrocious, however, as he just missed the dark-clad man.
Immediately, Batman shot his arms up, one hand grabbing onto the man's wrist, the other onto his shirt. He yanked hard on the man, throwing him off balance until he began to fall front first to the ground. However, Batman dropped to one knee, keeping his leg right where the thug's gun arm would land. Using his knee, he snapped the arm in two, causing bone to break through skin and shirt. A wild scream came out of the man's mouth from the pain.
Letting go of the wrist, the vigilante then threw his fist, slamming it into the man's face, shutting him up. Hearing the sound of gunfire again, bullets striking the ground around him, Batman then sprung away from his latest felled foe. The moment his feet touched back down on the ground, he went into a spin, one that sent his cape billowing out around him. This allowed him to pull out a couple of bat-shaped shuriken.
He slowed his spin then, just in time to see one of the gunmen firing at him. In response, he threw one of his shuriken, but not to disarm the man. No, he aimed for something else, that being the man's shoulder. His aim was true as the projectile struck the joint juncture, its edge digging into flesh. The gunman abruptly stopped shooting, his body flinching back from the force in which he had been struck. Another shuriken was thrown, this one going in low. It ended up stabbing into the side of the man's knee, causing him to drop to the ground, gripping onto his injured knee.
More gunfire erupted, a few bullets even striking him now. Jerking his head, he found himself looking back to his car, seeing several gunmen using it for cover as they fired over it or around it. Scowling, he raised an arm up to his face. Pressing a button on his gauntlet, he spoke, "Car defense protocol #2."
The only warning that something was going to happen was a dull humming sound. Then electricity erupted all over the car. The bolts didn't just stay dancing on the car's surface though, they leapt off of the vehicle nearly a foot into the air. Because of this, the bolts of electricity were drawn right to the metal of the guns the thugs were using.
Each man using the car for cover was immediately struck by the electricity, a couple thousand jolts searing into them as they screamed. Light flashed before they were all thrown backwards through the air, smoke rising from the smoldering remains of their clothes. There would be burns, bad ones, a deterrent for anyone wanting to mess with his car. Admittingly, he did up the voltage used tonight.
When he had told the Network to draw blood, he had been very serious.
Now then, who was next?
It was inevitable that there would be a clash between the forces of Scarface and the Calabrese family. Batgirl had found one such clash and it didn't look good.
Each side had moved cars into the middle of the street, perpendicular with the road. They weren't perfect lines, just cars that had been hastily moved so that there was cover for the criminals as they fired their guns at each other. There were several bodies lying either on the road or the sidewalk, no doubt victims of the gunfight.
This needed to end.
Batgirl wasn't certain which side was which, nor did she care. One way or the other, this was going to stop.
Descending down behind one of the lines of cars, she brought herself right up behind one of the gunmen, who was crouching behind his cover, using the back window to safely look at the other side.
Leaning back on one foot, Batgirl coiled her other leg in front of her before snapping it forward, landing a kick to the back of the man's head. His face slammed into the window, the glass shattering from the force that impacted it. Immediately, the man's body went limp, hanging from the window as his shoulder seemed to get wedged into the window frame.
The sound of the glass breaking though, drew attention to her. "It's a Bat!" someone shouted as they twisted to face her.
Batgirl found herself going into a familiar combo. Darting towards her next foe, she threw a punch, one that nailed the man in the solar plexus, knocking the wind out of him. She lashed out with her other hand, delivering a palm strike against the underside of the man's chin, his head snapping up. His throat was vulnerable, and her training as a Talon demanded the finishing Talon Strike to end him.
Instead, she delivered a second palm strike against their throat, further gagging the man as his windpipe was crushed. She held back, just slightly though. She didn't want to completely close the air passage and suffocate her foe to death. No, he would gag hard around the injured area to the point he was pass out from the effort.
Which he did. Gripping his neck breathlessly, the man gasped and gagged until he collapsed to the ground on his side. This revealed another gunman behind him, one who was scrambling to pull out their handgun. Stepping over the fallen man, Batgirl intently watched as the gun was pulled and pointed at her. There was a slight twitch, one that pulled the barrel to her left…
So she slid right, just as the gun went off, the bullet flying by harmlessly. There were cries of surprise behind the dark-clad girl, informing her there were other thugs there, but they would be held at bay from the stray shots fired in their direction. Trying to correct himself, the gunman jerked his gun towards her, overcorrecting himself actually as the barrel went too far in her direction. She just slid in the opposite direction, the gun going off and again the shot whizzing by harmlessly.
The man jerked the gun back to her, but by this point she had closed the distance between them. Whipping a hand up, she grabbed him by the wrist and forced the gun further to the side, another shot going off loudly by her head. Her father had told her not to hold back, so she didn't. Using the infamous Leopard Blow of Lady Shiva's, she slammed the strike against her foe's elbow, the force of the blow shattering the joint as the arm bent unnaturally before pieces of bone tore through skin. A high-pitched, wild scream erupted out of the man.
Raising up her closest leg, she then kicked it at the man's knee, hitting it just as hard as she had the elbow. The knee buckled at first before it too broke. More screaming ensued as her opponent sank down, tears coming out of his eyes from the pain.
So she ended his suffering as she once again performed the Leopard Blow, this time against the back of his skull. His face rammed into the side of the car they were next to, creating a large dent in its side. It shut him up though, his body going limp as he collapsed to the ground.
This revealed a few more men further up, standing next to another car. They had seen the way she had dispatched their friend and hesitated. Knowing she couldn't stay where she was because there were also still gunmen behind her, Batgirl pulled out a batarang, one with a red light already blinking a red light in its middle. With a flick of her wrist, she threw the batarang, which struck the hood of the car and stuck there. Immediately, she leapt into the air towards the car she was next to, twisting her body so that she flipped over the hood of the vehicle and landed on its other side. While this put her on the wrong side of the cover it provided, she did notice the other side's gunfire had quieted down.
A moment later, the batarang exploded, igniting the engine as well and increasing the force of the explosion. Men shouted as they were thrown back through the air. The sound of the explosion would also cause ear damage; the proximity to the flames would burn them as well if they were too close. They would be too injured to go on further. If they knew better, they would just stay down.
Spinning around from the burnt-out car, she crept along the row of cars until she reached one that she knew had men hiding behind. She hopped up onto the roof of the car, lying on her side as she slid over it. One man's head was poking up, the perfect height for her to swing a kick that nailed him in the side of his head.
Sliding right off of the car roof, Batgirl landed on the ground at the same time as the man she had kicked. She found herself next to a gunman that had his back to the car, who hadn't realized she was literally next to him. Crouching down, Batgirl swung a fist out wide, one that arced inward and nailed him right in the groin.
Instantly, the man bent over, eyes bulging, gagging from the literal low blow. He dropped his gun so that he could clutch at his private parts before he fell over, landing on his face as his ass stuck up in the air.
This gave the vigilante a look at the next man, who stared at her with wide eyes. He then abruptly spun on his heels and took off running down the street, clearly having no appetite for what she would do to him.
Normally, she would let him go, but not with the directive she was under. Pulling out her grapple, she fired it after the man, the claw grabbing onto his back. Hitting the retraction button, she yanked the man back towards her, her victim screaming as he was pulled off of his feet. Twisting her body, she swung the man through the air until he crashed into one of his friends, smashing them both against the side of yet another car.
She wasn't done with the man though. Turning back the other way, she pulled her opponent back through the air, but this time she began releasing more and more of her line, this caused the man to go through a wider arc until he reached a car further down the line. Though she released the grapple claw at the last moment, it didn't stop the man from hitting the car towards its top, sending him flipping over the vehicle and out into the no man's land between opposing sides.
There were a few more men that needed disposing of, but that wouldn't take long. Once she was done here, Batgirl had the other side to take care of. After all, her father wanted them to learn a very painful lesson. They were going to learn it whether they wanted to or not.
It took but a moment to clear her mind, calm her breathing, relax her body, and in less than a second strike out.
Her sword sliced through every weapon it encountered, rendering them useless. The men who held them followed, stunned into inaction as their primary means of violence had been stripped away.
Katana was not yet through.
Injure. Break. Incapacitate. Do not kill. She was certainly capable of it. Batman wanted to send a strong message, one that these men would never forget. Normally she held back, doing the least bit of damage as she could and relying on her teammates in the Birds to confirm unconsciousness.
By herself, not holding back, she would use all the skill she had to send the intended message.
Legs bent and then unleashed potential energy. Swiftness followed by controlled slicing began to pen the message to be sent. Belts were cut first, many a pair of pants dropping or falling without the support. It served to give a little humor to the situation, but that was where it would end.
Distracted, the first grouping of men struggled to decide what to do first. That hesitation was their downfall. The handle of her sword struck the forehead of the first man, dazing him. The spinning of her body carried her extended leg, a high kick landing against the head and causing the man to spin around before collapsing on the ground. Her booted foot slammed down on the hand, heel digging into the thumb in particular.
The second foe would receive a kick to the face, then was used promptly to block a clumsy punch from a third man. As the second man cried out, Katana punched his throat with a fist reinforced by the handle of her sword. Shoving him back and into the third man, Katana spun around and weaved her sword about to dodge the gunfire from a pistol that was being shot at her.
A fourth man who was still armed continued to fire and she was all that stood between him and the second and third man. Visually, she identified the type of pistol being used, recalled the approximate amount of ammunition it could carry, quickly subtracted the gunshots already fired to get the current total, and kept up her defense while counting down until the gun fired no more.
Immediately she ducked and forced an elbow back, hitting the gut of the third man who tried to come up from behind her as soon as it was safe. There was an "oomph!" as the third man leaned forward, and Katana released one of the hands that currently gripped the handle of her katana to bring the back of her hand into the stunned man's face.
Another spin, another high kick, and down the third man went. By then, the fourth man was nearly finished reloading. Katana, as she continued to spin, slipped out a throwing star and threw it out. The fourth man cried out as the throwing star embedded itself into his hand. This fully distracted him long enough for the swordswoman to close in.
Her blade made quick work of the firearm, her knee drove into his stomach, and as she stabbed the tip of her sword into the street, she took an arm and gave it a quick jerk. A loud pop, a loud scream, and an elbow to the back of the neck ended this encounter.
The second was starting to stand up, but he was swiftly dealt with too. Katana had swept up the barrel of the damaged pistol and threw it with accuracy into the second man's forehead, the piece of gun flipping away while the struck man fell back onto the ground.
Once more, she picked up her katana, the blade easily slipping out of asphalt, and the vigilante darted towards her next target. She made quick work of him, going low and slicing her sword into the tendons located on the back of his ankles. The Achilles' tendon they were called, and while the injury wasn't painful, that this man would walk easily again was not going to be accurate.
She did take the time to catch this newly crippled soul and rendered him unconscious with the butt of her sword. Letting him fall to the ground, Katana continued to the next man, and after that the next.
Injuries of all kinds would follow, from muscle injuries, damage to bones, joints soon to be mangled, blunt force trauma, crushed thumbs, and all of it nonlethal. Many would have difficulty continuing to practice any form of violence after this, but was that not the point? For people who used their anger and rage, ruthlessness and callousness, lack of mercy and kindness to harm people for no other reason than power or that they felt like it, to be unable to function physically afterwards would be a hell on this earth for them.
They chose this night to sow terror. They will reap what they sow.
Alright, her head wasn't entirely in the game, and that really needed to change. It was because of the distraction and maybe Spoiler wasn't going full out and causing the pain to these assholes, but in her defense…
She couldn't get it out of her mind. Where did Dad even get blueprints? When did he ever learn to use any? She highly doubted he was going into architecture so…engineering? When did he ever learn engineering? The man prided himself on his brains, not his ability to weld or ratchet. That was blue-collar stuff.
Like this lead pipe this one asshole was trying to brain her with.
Okay, Steph—Spoiler, get you head in the damn game already. There wasn't any reset buttons—whoa! Nearly clipped her there!
It had started out in the streets, a number of cars and vans pulling up and shooting out what looked like some random store, but if you knew patterns, it was a mob front being attacked. What else would explain why there was return fire from inside the building?
Knock out gas was set in the store, hopefully it would keep those guys out of the picture. A second canister was for those outside. They were coughing, trying to get out of the growing cloud of gas, and that was when Spoiler would swoop in and take them down one by one. She wasn't as skilled as Batgirl or any of the Birds or Batman. Redbird had a few more moves than she did, she would readily admit. This meant a different tactic, one that could suit her better.
It didn't matter how she did it, just that she did. It also meant she was quick to knock out each person she did take out instead of maim or really hurt here.
The same could not be said for these people. It was a big guy, bald, three times her height, and he had brought a lead pipe to a gunfight. Who even did that? This guy, obviously, and he was looking for a fight. She found it and this was why she had backed up into an alley. There were still a few of assholes out there, but they were coughing their lungs up so she had a minute tops here.
The pipe swung from her right, she ducked and moved to her right while the pipe struck and dented a dumpster. Spoiler lashed out a foot and pinned the pipe down, pushed up with her other leg so that she gained some height, and from the high ground did she swing downward a punch of her own. Got the guy in the head, but he took it like a champ, wretching his pipe out from under her foot as a result.
Down to the ground she went, crouching, and then rolling to avoid the downward swing of the pipe. Metal rang against cement, the pipe vibrating in the man's grip. Spoiler backed up, arms held up in defense, and came to a stop when the back of her foot met a trashcan. Arms whipped behind her, and she dragged the metal bin from behind and shoved it in front of her. Asshole only stumbled on it, but corrected his balance by simply taking a larger step.
That was alright, it gave Spoiler enough time to pick up and throw a second trash can, one that caused the man to cover his head and chest with his arms. One more trash can, and this one she heft up in her arms and charged forward with. Stepping on top of one of the fallen trash cans, she gained height again so that she could bring down the third trash can over the man's head. The can's lid came all the way down to his stomach, his arms now pinned to his torso.
She could work with this.
Despite not being able to see, you had to give the guy credit when he tried to rush her. Batgirl's lessons were coming quite in handy as she dodged and tripped him. Down he went, landing harshly on the ground and—oh yeah, some of that pipe was sticking out from under the lip. Grabbing it, she pulled and wretched it out, avoiding a couple of kicking legs while she did so.
Those legs were starting to find purchase as the man began getting up, starting to push the trash can off of him. Spoiler decided to spoil that and took a hard swing with the pipe. The trash can dented as the asshole trapped in it fell back. Not wanting to risk the guy getting out, Spoiler jumped at the chance to pull up a leg.
Now she hadn't done this before, but maybe if she stomped a foot there, force the lower leg in this direction, put some back into it—CRACK!—there we go! One broken leg—or was it a knee?—and the asshole was screaming his lungs out.
It took a certain kind of guy to bring a lead pipe with them. Said a lot about habit and implied what he did with it. A brute, one that didn't need a reason to hurt anyone, and used to getting his way. Size gave that kind of opportunity, he wasn't a handsome man by any stretch, and he brought a lead pipe to a gunfight. Guys like that could take a hit, yeah, but they had the same weaknesses as everyone else.
Gripping the pipe, Spoiler brought it down against the trash can. Another dent. A second hit stopped the screaming. A third was done for good measure and she was tossing it away.
Right, going all out, laying the hurt down, took a lot. Maybe she should settle for just knocking everyone out. Concussions were worse than they seemed, right? Easier to do too. So no more breaking bones.
Unless she was tempted.
Slowly, the night's chaos wound down. There had been multiple reports throughout the night of the gang violence, but those were followed by calls for ambulances and medical attention.
Crouching at the corner of a building, Batman gazed down at the men he had gone to the trouble of breaking. There were more ambulances than there were cop cars, men being loaded into the backs of each vehicle. Just from the radio calls the EMTs made as they drove from the scene with yet another of his victims. So far, there were quite a few head injuries, suspected traumatic brain injuries, countless contusions, many broken arms and legs, a couple broken noses, and blunt force trauma. That last one was used quite a bit considering the EMTs just gave up describing what they had on board their trucks.
According to Oracle, the rest of the Network had done just as he asked and beat down the warring mobsters. There were a few escapees, ones that wisely decided to flee rather than fight. Oracle would keep track of them so that they could be hunted down later.
One thing that had become apparent was that each scene of violence had happened around Calabrese business and property. Clearly Wesker knew exactly where these places were. Even if he had declared war through his dummy, the attacks were still organized, the locations selected carefully.
Tilting his head up, Batman looked up at the residence of the Calabrese family. In one of the windows higher up, he could make out silhouettes of people through the glass, looking down at the carnage below. Faintly, he wondered if one of them was Selina Kyle.
Or rather, Selina Calabrese, if Chip Shreck was to be believed.
"Things are starting to quiet down," he heard Oracle inform him then. "The rest of the Network is finishing up their mop-up duties."
"Anyone hurt?" he immediately asked.
"Aside from a few scrapes and bruises, it's nothing none of them haven't experienced on a normal night," she responded. "No need for medical attention at this time."
That was good. With the number of guns and men trying to kill each other, all it took was one mistake for it to end badly. He was grateful for that report.
"You've kept an eye on any of the mobsters and gangsters fleeing, right?" he then asked.
"Yep. There are a couple of satellites overhead, and I've got them tracking each and every one of them."
"I want their current locations. One will do for now. See where the other ones are heading to, if they're heading back to a Calabrese safehouse, or wherever Scarface is holed up. If one goes to their home, that's the one I'll interrogate first."
"Roger that."
Batman gazed down at the carnage below. He hoped this sent a message loud and clear to the rest of the city's gangsters. Whatever control they felt they had was only present because he allowed it and no other reason. He could come in whenever he wanted and hurt them in ways they never thought possible.
If only such messages could be remembered.