Ten Minutes Later - S.T.A.R Labs Floor Thirty-Six
"We're just about at the vault, Boss!" One of Harley's goons radioed back to her.
The man was leading the spearhead of their group's incursion into S.T.A.R Labs. His group was meant to charge into the lab where the vault was held and set up the cryo drill that Mista J had given them. Where her Puddin' got the thing was beyond her. Usually, stuff like that was locked up in Wayne Enterprises or LexCorp. Although, Mr. Freeze may have had it on hand after he raided Queen Industries. Either way, it and Freeze's ice canon were their tickets into the vault.
Especially now that they had cut the power. She was already regretting going through with that part of the plan. If Mista J had told her the vault was up on the thirty-sixth floor of the building, she would have asked to change the plan. The GCPD didn't need all their helicopters after all. But she hadn't, so now she and all of her people were making the climb upwards. At least they weren't dressed in head-to-toe snow gear. Coulda done with an exosuit though.
"Good!" She radioed back cheerily. "Get the drill set up and Mr. Snowman and I'll be up there in a few minutes."
"You got it, Boss!" Her goon returned. A rustle could then be heard as he turned to address his people before the line cut out.
"Your people better not damage anything." Freeze threatened behind her. "I'd hate to have come all this way just to lose the diamonds because one of your mongrels couldn't wait to go through with the plan."
Harley rolled her eyes and spun her bat, settling it across her shoulders and lazily hanging her arms from it.
"Will you relax?! It's fine! They know who Mama is and won't do anything to make her mad." Harley assured.
"I've worked with you before, Quinn." Freeze pointed out with a growl. "I know how little control or restraint your lunatics have."
"If you were so concerned about us, why'd you agree to work with us, Frosty?... Because as far as I can see, you don't need us and we don't need you." Harley returned.
"Because, while I hate your groups' consistent inability to follow basic, largely uncomplicated, commands, it's no secret that your gang has been on the Bat's shit list," Freeze answered flatly.
"Aww! Somebody's jealous!" Harley jeered, drawing a few snickers from her people as they continued to climb.
"Hardly," Freeze scoffed.
"Aww! It's ok!" Harley continued, unabated. "I'm sure the Bat hasn't forgotten about little old you. It's just that it's Mista J's turn to mess with em."
"I can assure you, Ms. Quinn. I'm in no hurry to meet with the Bat anytime soon." Freeze retorted, drawing a few agreeing grumbles from his people.
"See! That's why Mista J gets along with you! You know who's got first dibs!... That, and your toys." Harley finished with a shrug.
"Let's just get this done!" Freeze snarled. "The sooner I get what I came for, the sooner I can get rid of you and yours, and the sooner I can get back to Nora."
"That's the spirit!... Now let's keep up that energy for the next ten flights!" Harley teased.
XXXXXXXXXX
S.T.A.R Labs - Floor Thirty-Six
Grim shifted his position on the metal beam, giving him a better vantage on the group of fanatics below him. He called them fanatics because that's what they had to be. No other rebel group he had ever encountered had ever dressed up as clowns to commit atrocities. Usually, such behavior was attributed to cults or fear tactics used by traitors that aligned themselves with either the Banished or the Insurrectionists. Even then, the traitor's armor had only extended so far, trying to emulate the gear of the aliens which surrounded them. Most of whom would eat them if given half a chance.
Behind his helmet, Grim's jaw clenched as he remembered the many missions he had undertaken against such rebel cells. Most were completely off the books and those that weren't were highly classified. Anyone who went looking would only find pages upon pages of text covered in black ink. That's if Parangosky, or now Serin, didn't get to them first.
"Oh, I see!" Phoebe suddenly called out, pulling the Spartan from his thoughts. "They're going to rapidly cool the vault and then just simply smash their way in….. Although, I'm not seeing any explosives on them."
"Will it affect the server?" Grim questioned.
"I don't think so?" Phoebe answered tentatively. "Mr. Freeze isn't known for reckless destruction of property, and he probably wants something in the vault too."
"Then who are the clowns?" Grim replied as pulled his SMG into his arms and settled it in his hold.
"They're the Joker's henchmen. Locally referred to as the Freaks or Jokerz, depending on who's leading them." Phoebe answered, only pausing for Grim's input. But, as usual, the Spartan was content to let her fully explain before cutting in.
"The ones under us are probably calling themselves the Freaks because, see this woman?" Phoebe pulled a still from one of the cameras in the stairwell.
The still showed about fifteen opfors making their way up the stairs. At their center was the large, exosuit-clad man, probably Mr. Freeze based on the white color scheme, and a blonde woman. She was sporting two, long pigtails, one colored red and the other black. Her outfit consisted of a matching leather jacket that covered a red and black corset. Below that, she wore a pair of black and red hotpants and two mismatched, thigh-high boots. Overall, the outfit did little to protect her in the middle of a firefight, and her pale, white skin was far too bright to just be the result of makeup.
Her outfit also contrasted greatly with that of Mr. Freeze. His head was enclosed in a clear, glass bubble with his red goggles shining brightly within. The suit then stretched downwards and outwards, with metal plating covering almost every visible point on his body. Besides the joints that broke up the all-white color scheme, his grey undersuit clearly visible through these flex points. His legs were also enclosed in some sort of leg aperture, looking closer to a Sangheili's legs than humans. Finally, two additional apertures linked the man's vambraces to the large backpack on his back.
"She's the Joker's right-hand woman, Harley Quinn." Phoebe finished.
"Joker?" Grim humored. He'd learned over the past year that Phoebe preferred to explain everything she found before getting down to business. It was something Grim found incredibly annoying, yet extremely helpful and endearing. Not that she needed to know that second part.
"He's Gotham's boogeyman. Name a crime and he's probably done it in some shape or form….. It's actually gotten so out of hand that the GCPD has lost count of his victims. But their last estimates put it somewhere in the tens of thousands."
"And they allow him to live?"
"There's no death penalty in New Jersey and he's been legally declared insane. It's why he keeps getting thrown into Arkham Asylum. Which also has a less than stellar reputation." Phoebe huffed.
Grim had nothing to say to that. This wasn't his world, so he couldn't say whether or not that was the correct response….. What he did know though, is that the Joker would be considered an HVT to ONI, and anyone helping him would be seen as accomplices. Which means, Grim is fully within his ROE to use lethal force against those below him.
"What's the ETA on the opfors in the stairwell?" Grim asked, hauling himself out of his crouch and slowly moving along the beam.
"At their current pace, they should be here in seven minutes," Phoebe observed as she generated a small graphic showing their movement on the corner of his HUD.
Silently, Grim settled himself over one of the many goons below him. This one had strayed away from their main party and seemed to be amusing himself by rifling through one of the cabinets that lined the room. Occasionally, he'd pull a vial from the cabinet and examine it, only to declare it "boring" before tossing it over his shoulder.
Grim settled his sights on the man's head with one arm, while his opposite readied his grappleshot. Once both were properly aimed toward the man, Grim waited, completing one last check of forces below him.
Satisfied, he pulled the trigger and sent a boxy round into the man's skull. The round tore into his skull and his body immediately started to crumple, until Grim's grappleshot made contact with the corpse's shoulder. It was then pulled silently into the air as the grapple retracted, ending with the body being pulled into Grim's waiting hands. The Spartan pulled the body onto the beam and secured it, making sure it wouldn't shift and fall onto the floor below. His hands then ran through the corpse's many pockets.
Most of the man's pockets contained additional magazines and ammo for the AK47 wrapped around his neck, but there were a few notable items. Such as a pair of frag grenades that the man had secured around his waist by weaving their levers between his belt and jeans. He also had three different phones concealed across his body along with a collapsable baton. One final item he found was a hand-drawn map showing the gang's route from some place called Krank Co. Toys Warehouse. Grim pocketed the phones and grenades while leaving the ammo and map behind, trusting that Phoebe had already taken note of the map.
His attention then turned back to the goons below, who seemed oblivious to their friend's disappearance. Three of them seemed to be focused on setting up some sort of large drill, while the last two were amusing themselves by lighting whatever notes and chemicals they found on fire.
"One misthrown chemical and they go from human beings to nothing more than smears on the walls….. Death by literal stupidity." Phoebe observed, awed by the two's activity.
"More like Darwinism at work." Grim thought wryly to himself.
The double doors were then violently thrown open, four more of the clowns bouncing into the room excitedly as their comrades followed them in. Next was the group of exosuit-wearing thugs, their metallic soles clanging loudly against the tile below them. A couple of them seemed to be toting some sort of large rifle in their arms, while the rest had a mixture of batons and metal-clad fists. Finally, their two leaders strode confidently into the room.
"Mama's here!" Harley called out proudly with her arms spread wide, drawing another series of cheers from the men surrounding her and a glare from Mr. Freeze. Deciding that the clown wasn't worth his time, Freeze made his way across the room to the cryo drill, examining the progress of the three goons. The first of the three to notice him stiffened under his gaze, taking a few hesitant steps away from the machine while their friends continued to work.
"How much longer?" Freeze growled.
"Just a few more minutes, Boss." One of the thugs called out over their shoulder, clearly ignoring the scientist in favor of their boss.
"You're doing great, Sweetie!" Harley called back as she sauntered up to a table filled with lab equipment. With one swing, she cleared the entirety of the table. Sending thousands of dollars worth of lab equipment and notes onto the floor, with the glass beakers and vials all shattering. One of her people then came by and slammed a lit Molotov cocktail on top of it, turning the pile into a small fire. This must have been a signal of some sort as the rest of the clowns ran off and started destroying the lab. Cabinets had their doors smashed in, tables had their contents thrown onto the floor, and the chairs were summarily thrown across the room.
All of this truly amazed the Spartan and AI observing them from above. They were like a pack of crazed animals. How they managed to get anything done was beyond the two of them.
A low whine then sounded throughout the room as the cryo drill powered to life. Its head slowly began to spin as its stand extended forward and upwards. One of the goons then tapped in a series of commands into its attached monitor. These commands triggered another of the machine's barrels to start spinning in the opposite direction. All while the machine itself started to glow a bright blue.
A bright, white beam then burst forth from the machine's barrel. This beam stretched outwards from the contraption and caused a wall of ice and ice spikes to start to build on the vault's front. The goon then punched in a final few commands, angling the beam towards the center of the vault door.
"Three minutes to party time!" Another of the goons cackled.
"Well, at least some of them listen to the plan." Phoebe sighed.
Grim quickly stalked across the beam and centered himself over another of the goons. His SMG was then returned to his hip as he pulled his two smoke grenades free. On his HUD, Phoebe quickly highlighted each of the thugs, assigning each of them a threat level based on their visible equipment. Most were covered in a yellow outline, representing the lowest threat level. These figures had either pistols or were mostly unarmed. The next group was highlighted in orange. These thugs were equipped with either rifles or shotguns and were the next largest group. Finally, the last group was outlined in red. This group seemed to be exclusively the soldiers in exosuits, Freeze, and for some reason, Harley herself.
Grim didn't bother to ask about Harley, figuring there was a good reason for Phoebe classifying her as a high-level threat. Instead, he pulled the pins on his two grenades and waited for the thugs below to ramp up their destruction once more. He didn't have to wait long as all of the clowns redoubled their efforts, making it nearly impossible to hear anything other than the smashing of glass and crashing of metal. He threw his first grenade into the center of the closest, most tightly grouped collection of clowns. His second grenade followed the first shortly after, landing amidst the exosuit-clad men who seemed far more concerned with tracking the clowns going berserk around them.
Grim then pulled his pilfered frag grenades and waited as the smoke slowly spread. Initially, Grim had expected the group below him to immediately notice the smoke and shift into a defensive posture. Even the rebels, with their limited training, could accomplish that much. But it seemed, like everything else, this group was the exception. It was only when the smoke had encompassed most of the center of the room that the first of them started to notice. They immediately sent out cries, trying to get their friends to notice the building, gray cloud in their midst. But their calls were lost in the surrounding destruction.
Pulling the pin on his first grenade, he tossed the green sphere into the center of the cloud, near the largest group of clowns. Five seconds later, the explosive detonated with a loud bang, rattling the room and causing a group of pained cries to ring out. Additionally, more smoke was added to the already large cloud filling the room.
All around them, the room went silent as all of the thugs turned towards the source of the explosion, finding only gray filling their vision. Some of them even started to cough as the smoke started to fill their lungs. But most of them shifted, shouldering their rifles and weapons while their eyes frantically danced around the room. There were also a few shouts scattered among them.
"It's the Bat!"
"They're in the walls!"
"Freeze's betrayed us!"
Suddenly, a burst of gunfire rang out as one of the clowns unloaded on the two snowsuits next to them. Seeing this, one of Freeze's men turned and charged the large rifle in their hands, the machine glowing a cyan blue. A beam then burst outwards from the machine and completely encased the clown in ice. Nearby, the rest of Freeze's men all shifted so that they were either back to back or had established a small perimeter around them. But these events were only seen by Grim above them.
The Spartan watched on uncaringly as he readied his next grenade and pulled his SMG free again. In one fluid motion, he tossed the grenade towards the opposite side of the room, aiming for one of the groups, while also dropping down from the beam. He felt himself become weightless for a few seconds until he landed on top of the man beneath him. The goon's body completely crumbled under the half-ton weight of the Spartan and his armor, causing Grim's landing to be announced by the sound of snapping bones and bursting flesh.
The Spartan then rushed into the cloud, ignoring the mess behind him. Instantly, his HUD shifted to its night vision mode before overlaying the highlights from before, Phoebe using his suit's sensors to keep track of each of the goons. Distantly, the grenade went off with a dull thump and a few pained screams.
He raised his SMG and let loose a small burst towards two yellow figures panicking in the smoke, catching them both center-mass and sending them tumbling to the floor. Meanwhile, his left arm reared back before leveling an overhead hook at another figure in the smoke. His fist connected with a satisfying crack as his target's head all but exploded, sending bits of bone and gore onto the goon beside them.
"Holy fuck!" The goon cried, immediately turning to run away, only for Grim's hand to lash out and seize them by the neck. He then turned and quickly fired off another four bursts towards four other thugs in the smoke as he snapped the original goon's neck. Noticing one of the red figures starting to turn towards him, Grim pivoted and hurled the corpse at them. The corpse collided with the figure with a dull clang as the figure stumbled backwards before falling onto their back. In an instant, the Spartan was on them, a stomp flying downwards and pulping the thug's head before they could react.
Another three highlights rushed by on Grim's left, trying to escape the smoke. A quick burst from the SMG stopped them in their tracks. With a click, Grim dropped the empty magazine and slotted in a fresh one. His head then snapped around, finding another three highlights just on the edge of the smoke.
"Screw this!" One of the figures snarled as his pistol clattered to the ground. His highlight then became a large blob as he appeared to be reaching for something in his coat. A few seconds later, his hands reappeared with two large bottles held in his hands. He shuffled again and two small lights appeared in the haze of the fog, the thug having lit the ends of the rags that fed into the bottles. Levering his arms back, the thug readied himself to throw the homemade weapons into the smoke.
A burst of fire from Grim's SMG stopped that plan in its tracks. Instead, the two bottles exploded in the man's hands, showering the three of them with alcohol and glass. Only for the fire to catch a second later. The three men burst into flame, their bodies flailing and screams filling the room. In their pain and panic, one of the men spun and sprinted through the double doors, disappearing from view.
Grim ignored their cries and rushed towards the next group of thugs, unsheathing his knife.
XXXXXXXXXX
In The Hall
It had been going so well. He had infiltrated the building with little difficulty and had already deduced what the probable target was, a vault somewhere high in the tower. Well, Oracle figured that part out, but he was the one on the ground so he deserved partial credit.
What the two of them were still trying to figure out was why the Regulators would agree to work with the Freaks, or Jokerz. Truly, Joker's narcissism knew no bounds because god forbid Harley take some credit for herself without the man around. No, when he was leading them, then they'd call themselves the Jokerz. Otherwise, they were the Freaks.
Tim crept forward, staying low and taking it slow as he clambered up the final set of stairs to the vault's floor. He quietly swung the door open and was met with the sound of bullets firing and people screaming. Every few seconds there'd be a squishing or crunching sound, like someone was snapping tree limbs in a muddy forest.
Straightening back up, Tim raced down the hall towards the sounds just as the double doors burst open. A man, engulfed in flames, raced into the hall. His pained screams filled the air as he bounced off a wall and fell onto the tile below.
Without a second thought, Tim swept forward, clawing at his neck to undo the clasp of his cape. His hands found purchase and he swiftly pulled the cape off his back and lowered it onto the man. His hands then began to pat the man down, trying to put out the fires that had engulfed the thug. So focused on saving the thug, he didn't notice that the man had gone still underneath him as he continued his efforts until all of the flames had been extinguished. He couldn't help but flinch as he pulled his cape back and was met with the sight of a badly burned corpse, its skin still smoldering.
"Nightwing is one minute out. Head back to the stairwell and wait for him, Robin." Oracle's voice ordered through the comms, slightly startling him.
Tim schooled his expression and reattached his cape. He steadied his breathing and compartmentalized the sight below him away for later. There was a job he had to do.
"I'm going in." Tim radioed, turning toward the double door.
"No, you're not," Oracle responded, her tone daring him to disagree. "You're going to go back to the stairwell and wait for Nightwing."
"People are dying, O. I have to at least find out why." Tim retorted as he pressed his body against the wall beside the door. With a quick search of his utility belt, Tim pulled free a flexcam and weaved its lens through the gap under the doors. He then thumbed on the camera's screen and was immediately met with the sight of smoke and fire just beyond the door. With a roll of his thumb, he rotated the camera to the left, finding Harley and a group of her men crouched down behind a group of tables. Nearby, Freeze was looking towards the smoke with trepidation plainly visible on his face.
The camera was then panned to the right and Tim had to hold back a gasp as the lab's destruction became visible. Tables were thrown all over the place and the furniture had been nearly destroyed. But the most horrifying aspect was the many bodies and body parts littering the room. One "body" appeared to be little more than a puddle, all of its organs and bones having been crushed by some large object. Another group of corpses were all missing their heads. Surprisingly, most of these bodies seemed to have been wearing armor or an exosuit of some sort. The final group of bodies had multiple bullet holes peppering their bodies.
Suddenly, another body was thrown into the camera's view, missing its arm and its head facing backward. It slammed into the wall and dropped to the floor behind a table, out of sight. Tim pulled the camera back toward the center of the room, finding that the smoke had dissipated. Allowing everyone a clear view of the destruction. More bodies covered the floor, some contorted in impossible positions. At its center, stood a large, black armored figure.
Tim's estimate put him at about seven-foot-two, a foot taller than Batman. His armor seemed closer to tank armor than that of a typical exosuit. There also weren't any connecting wires or visible joints like Tim would expect. Instead, it looked more like an up-armored, militarized version of their heaviest suits. In one hand he held a small machine gun unlike any Tim had ever seen before, while his other held the handle of a long knife that was currently embedded in a clown's throat.
With a tug, the armored man wretched his knife free, completely decapitating the clown as its head went one way and its body another. Then, with a bit of flourish, the man cleaned his blade and returned it to a sheath on his chest. Nearby, Harley, Freeze, and their people seemed frozen as the man's golden visage locked onto them. Tim didn't know that Freeze's blue skin could turn that pale. Between the two of them, Harley was the first to recover.
"That ain't fuckin' Batman!"