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

[-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.