Dead Drop

[seriouslyevil.livejournal.com]

Normally, when Roman wanted to schedule an appointment with someone, he usually carved the date, time, and place of the meeting onto the corpse of a loved one/associate. Unfortunately, he had to be a bit more subtle. With Brucey's weak stomach, he'd probably vomit all over the corpse, pass out, then someone would come in and find one of the models he dated dead and draped across his desk, the cops would get involved, and things would get messy.

Well, messier.

So, this time he had to be just a touch more subtle, which was kind of annoying since he really really wanted to burn part of Gotham to ground after The Batman had barged in unexpectedly and given him a rather sound beating.

Bastard.

At least he had the Albanians to take his rage out on. Over the last month, he had quite emphatically squashed the small group, and taken over their operations in the north east. And lucky for him, he knew a place that was great for rounding up women that he could then sell to the highest bidder. Perhaps he'll shelve those plans to destroy Selina's shelter after all...

But back to Bruce, who was simply left a cellphone on his desk at work. It's previous owner wouldn't be needing it anyway, poor girl. But, later that night, Bruce would get a call on that phone, with a recording telling him where to bring the money that night.

And currently at that location, a rather run down mill in a long since abandoned industrial complex, the Black Mask was waiting.

Don't be late, Bruce.

Comments

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

How, how, how did he know that this whole scene was going to end up in shots being fired?

Because it's Black Mask, who can't use the toilet without firing a gun at the ceramic, that's why.

Bruce turns toward Selina to mark her location quickly, and by the time he's turned back around, he sees at least two barrels pointed at them. At her. Instinct carries him between Black Mask's armory and the woman he once asked to marry.

[femme-du-chat.livejournal.com]

As soon as the flare goes, Selina is in motion. She's diving toward Bruce, looking to tackle him to the ground and then get him out of the area. There is a brush with a bullet but it isn't an intense impact, just a graze at worst.

[eddie-nygma.livejournal.com]

Eddie is smart enough to be wearing a vest - and he had the good sense to duck back behind hard cover for the inevitable return-fire.

He grabs the iron ladder nearby and slides to the ground, moving for a more advantageous position.

[seriouslyevil.livejournal.com]

It took him a moment to clear the stars out of his eyes.

"FIND NYGMA! Bring his scrawny ass here! I don't care whether or not it's still breathing."

Well, actually, he does, but only because he'd rather have the pleasure of killing Eddie himself. But right now, he had more important people to kill, namely Bruce and Selina. As much as he wanted to take his time killing them, time was suddenly a luxury he didn't have.

Now that he could see, he turned his gun towards the pair of them, and began firing.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_darkknight_/]

Selina's momentum seems to have carried both Bruce and the former thief-turned-heroine to the pavement at the beginning of the barrage of bullets that Roman unleashes. One of those bullets seems to have clipped Selina's shoulder (ruining a perfectly respectable designer outfit) so the blood around them isn't too surprising. How much of it is spreading out around them is a whole other matter.

And for his part, Bruce is not moving from under Selina. Is he so much a coward that he would let her shield him?

[femme-du-chat.livejournal.com]

It takes a moment for it to dawn on Selina.

The blood belongs to Bruce.

He's unmoving beneath her.

He's unmoving and bleeding beneath her. The plan was that she and Eddie would get him out of here but now, the world is narrowing in her focus as she stands, a heavy weight of dread and certainty settling on her shoulders.

As she turns her head, her gaze settles on Black Mask, on Roman.

This is now a woman with death in her gaze.

[-nightwing-.livejournal.com]

Dammit. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

He hates everything about this. He hates that he had to wait so far off, the better to be undetected. He hates that he has to cover a shitload of ground the second things go bad - because let's face it, what could possibly go right about this - and he hates that it all goes down in the blink of an eye. Seconds count, and even when you're riding a Ducati motorcycle into the middle of a bunch of henchmen, it's really only the first shots that matter. Everything else after that point is negotiable.

Time to break the ranks up a bit and give them something else to shoot at. Kicking up dirt, dust and gravel, the motorcycle and its rider plunge into the fray.