Summary:Captain Cold robs a jewelry store and is confronted by Batwoman and Red Robin. Log Info:Storyteller: None |
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Maybe, it was just one of those things. Maybe it was a bad night? There wasn't really a reason to be out and about for Snart. There was no plan, no grand idea playing out for her; she was simply bored. Bored? Lonely, perhaps? It was just one of those nights…
Dressed in her usual attire of blacks, boots, dark blue parka with fur and shimmer, the visor-eyed thief as already picking the lock of a back door to some jewelry shop. Cliche? Sure, but gems were pretty. She couldn't, and wouldn't, deny that. It was quick work, the first lock was easy. The digital one behind that even more so. A brush of the hand and a press of buttons, she listens, waits, and slips in. Hood up, mask up, she levels her cold gun and starts pacing forward.
It's often easy to believe that the Bats are omniscient. All-seeing, all powerful protectors of the night who are everywhere and anywhere at all times of the day. It would be nice to think that. Tonight, however, starts out entirely by chance. Batwoman is in the area on one of her patrols, having just dumpstered a couple of thugs with knives (literally) and left them for the police, when she notices the jewelry shop across the way. Normally, there would be no reason a all for the woman to enter but it just happens that is in the direction she wishes to go. Taking to the rooftops, as always, Batwoman alights upon the shop with a nearly inaudible thump, continuing past the back of it on her way toward the far side of Gotham. For now, at least, Lena is completely unaccosted.
Cold doesn't hear the sound of someone on the roof - Bats were good like that. Nor does she notice someone moving down the alley's path toward another part of the block. Her weapon was just up, eyeing down its length as her covered gaze skips across cases and what might be left on display. Stores that didn't use safes were, well, rookie. No night guards - good. Resting the weapon on her shoulder, she strides through the store, browsing as if she were an actual customer.
Pausing by trinkets shaped into different forms, glimmering and beautiful, the girl cants her head to the side and smiles with her dark painted lips. Gloved fingers dig into her inner pocket only to find…she was missing something. Her face twists, annoyance apparent. A step back, she sighs and shrugs. Lazy, unlike her, uncaring, she sighs and points her gun toward the glass. "Well, let's see how this works." With a blast of ice and frost, the glass crackles under the quick shift of temperature. In stasis, solid and brittle, Lena inches closer and gives it a soft 'tap' with the butt of the pistol. A melodic sound of shattered ice dances across the floor.
Batwoman had, by all rights, been about to go about her day. She stretches and yawns softly as she rolls her neck , walking with te plodding gait of someone whose work shift ended a bood eight hours before. It was getting toward the end of the night.It was time to /stop/ patroling. She pauses for a second and adjusts her mask slightly, tugging briefly at the collar on the moulded, armoured suit she wears. Sure, crimson hair and masks might look glamorous, but… They chafe. And sweat. Okay?
Coming to the edge of the roof Batwoman makes the decision to take a leap from the top, her cape fluttering outward in a flurry of crimson and black fit to make most criminals flee in terror. And just as she's about to proceed to the next building the familiar ring of shattering glass greets her ears. It's distant, but unmistakable. Someone is robbing the jewelry shop.
"Damn it…" Kate switches on her radio. "There's a disturbance at the Jewelry shop off one twenty-third. I am checking it out now." The back door, as it happens, is unlocked. She nudges it open with a gauntleted finger so she can check inside.
Red Robin, on the other hand, is just starting his patrol. That's part of what makes the Bats seem so omnipresent: they're shift workers, people. If one's on the way out, another is just about to clock in, fresh and rested. And Red Robin brings his bike, roaring along the road to cover a greater swath of territory.
And also, as it happens, making him faster to respond to another's call. "I copy. On my way," he says. "Computer, navigate to stated address." Google Maps, eat your heart out. He hooks a sharp turn; he's a few minutes out, but Batwoman will have some backup. Batckup?
Lena Snart eyes the gun. It was larger than the one strapped to her thigh. Two-hands were needed to give it any sense of stability when in use. She blinks (behind the silver sliver of her visors) and nods in appreciation. "Nice. Not my style, but…" she shrugs, resting the gun to her shoulder as before. A step closer, she digs in her fingers, brushing away frozen shards of glass to pull up charms, each diamond and plantinum, shimmering silver in the off cast of streetlights from outside. Smiling, she nods and chuckles.
A step back, she levels the gun and pivots, firing off and artic blast through the room. Circular, blanketing over case after case, the girl practically beams as the air becomes heavy and fridgid, flesh-tingling.
"…It'd cold. Fries?" That has Batwoman entering just a bit more carefully. A slow step that barely makes a sound, just the barest squeak of boot against hard flooring. Then she emerges into the shop from the back, underneath the blinking sign reading "EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY" that decorates the entrance from the alley way.
"…Drop the jewelry." It comes out as a guttural growl and then there is Batwoman, in all her tall, imperious glory, a hand already moving to lift one of the "fangs" from her belt- dual clawed, stylized batarangs only Batwoman tends to carry. "If you surrender now I won't need to hurt you."
Red Robin catches sight of the jewellery store, and his bike slows as he gets closer. "Red Robin, out front. Ready to jump in. What's your status in there, B-dub?" As if 'Batwoman' is so painfully many syllables.
Lena Snart pauses her assault across the cases. The boot to ground causes her to move on her own, gun aimed toward the Bat with crimson hair. "Huh," she smirks, pressing a dimple into her pale cheek. "A woman trying to stop me. I'm flattered. Cliche as me liking shinies is you trying to protect them." Her finger settles on the trigger. Her breath catches in the air just as Kate's with every passage exhale or word spoken. "New toy," she explains. "Not sure what it does to people yet…wanna find out, Knight?"
"Go ahead and try it. I've been meaning to beat someone with their own freeze ray today." Batwoman is staring down Lena for now. She shifts her footing slightly, glancing around the frosted room. Her breath is visible, and frozen glass is everywhere, shattered or in the process of shattering. She pauses for a long second, standing in place and takes up a classic boxer's pose, as if to say 'come at me'. How, exactly, does one box a freeze ray?
Meanwhile, on the radio, more pressing matters are occurring. "…B-Dubs? I don't serve chicken wings. What is wrong with you? …It's —- Captain Cold. Robbing the store. Her back is to the front side windows. I've got her distracted. For now."
Red Robin frowns, looking off to the side as if it somehow makes eye contact with Batwoman. "Efficiency. That's what's 'wrong' with me." His bike glides in close, coming to a stop just on the pavement. He crouches low, hiding most of his profile from the window while peeking in for just a bare glimpse. One hand grabs a disc off his belt, just by touch. "Projectile ready on your mark, Batwoman." Since she insists.
|ROLL| Lena Snart +rolls 1d100 for: 51
"Fiesty. Mick would have loved you…" Unaware of the little bird outside, Cold keeps the gun at the ready and takes in her surroundings. It was risky. She could brawl, but she wasn't the muscle - she was the brains. A pass across her dark lips, the girl sighs and lowers the weapon briefly. Tsking, she turns her body to the side and draws the smaller gun from its holders on her thigh. Mag-locks part as a trinagular barrel now settles on Batwoman. Three lines glow, connecting at ports before a brilliant beam hums out and toward Kate's direction. The air keeps it chilly hint, but this time it's something different. It's not a snap of chill, its a manipulation of the area and space the beam touches. Slow, oh so slow…freezing motions and actions in place.
Trigger down, the light can be seen from the windows and through the crack of the opened back door. Cold walks closer to Batwoman. "I'm taking my score and I'm leaving. Can't risk you breaking my freeze ray, after all."
Batwoman was in the midst of leaping away from the blast when the beams shot out across her. She'd underestimated Captain Cold, it seems, because all of the sudden she is frozen in mid tumble, her cape static behind her like an action figure of someone about to dive into a heroic somersault.
"Go fo-" And the radio cuts off entirely in the middle of transmission. The signal even dies.
Ah, hell. Things are turning bad fast. Red Robin pops up, elbow slamming into the window to smash it open and make room for his swing. On the way up, he processes what he sees and picks his target. The disc — simple, solid metal — flies, aiming for the gun in Cold's hand. And he chases it, at least to dive in through the smashed part of the window and into the shop.
Cold was in a calm pace, gun on Kate and hands stuffing a few more glimmers of jewels into a side bag. She wasn't leaving empty handed. It wasn't until the shattering of glass catches her attention, head turning to catch that disc flying and smacking her gun to the side. It twists her hand, uncomfortably, causing the gun to fly off, the light to die and the affects to start fading away from Batwoman.
Growling, Cold levels the larger weapon, sholdering the brunt of it and firing off with a spray of artic cold. The room mists, frost and ice spreads, spidering across everything and anything the ray touches. "Here I thought you could take me down yourself, Batwoman! Cold move, bringing in backup!" Trigger down, she starts sliding back along patches of ice forming on the floor.
"=You're just mad because your boyfriend isn't here to save you." Batwoman's voice is quavering but she's quickly recovering. The redhead gives Red Robin the briefest upnod of acknowledgment- time for pleasantries later- before she's finally moving again. She finishes her tumble perfectly (there's not much choice in the matter) but in relative slow motion before hitting the ground at full speed. The bat vaults the counter now, dashing toward Cold. Then she slips. Cape up, crimson unfurled behind her, Kate actually slides toward her foe, going into a low crouch that might turn this into an abruptly salvageable situation as she closes the distance far, far faster than might be expected. Of course, she's moving in a relatively straight line.
"Are they even boyfriend-girlfriend, or is it just a platonic crime-life-partners kind of thing? Never been clear on that." Red Robin sees the second gun lifting and wheels out of the way, behind one of the display cases. "Since when does she have two?" Something to update in the files. The cold gathers around his heels, and he tries for another flip away. Perhaps another Robin could handle that kind of slickness with grace, but his gloves just don't have the purchase he's expecting. He slips and hits the ground hard, shoulder-first. But he still has another hand up, and this one brings the grappling gun. He fires in Snart's direction, but is he actually aiming for her, or just to get a leg up?
"Should have brought him. He loves a good burn out." A fire and a move, the space of the shop wasn't exactly that large, but it was big enough for the three to go about their business. Fire, move - a grappling hook flying one way, a red-haired Bat across the floor, Cold curses under her breath and levels the gun down. "Show me what you got," she whispers to it, firing off another strip and slowly (hopefully) forming up a wall infront of herself. She had to grab Jadis. She had to get out of here.
Speedsters? Easy. Bats? Not so much…
Kate actually hits the wall moving full speed. …And tumbles over the top of it with a grunt as it's growing up from the floor. She shields herself with her cape as the freeze ray clips her, the corner turning igid and then shattering into a million frozen shards, the already tattered edges becoming more than just an affectation.
So. This becomes a rather complicated dynamic in that a tumbling bat leaps at a fleeing Cold having vaulted a wall in a way that looks dignified only because of natural athleticism and the billowing of a cape. All awkwardness of that tackle aside, however, Batwoman is six feet of angry marine in body armour. And it's all for the good if she knocks Cold right into Tim's path.
Red Robin has an arctic suit, but he's not in his arctic suit. This standard one doesn't have enough traction in the soles or the gloves, and if he goes back onto the frozen floor, he'll just continue to slip and slide.
So he doesn't bother with the floor. Robins are birds. He takes to the air. The grappling gun didn't hit Snart directly, but instead the wall; now it retracts, pulling him from his awkward position. Angling above the building ice-wall, he twists to get his feet in position, aiming a kick right where Batwoman is, hopefully, pushing Snart.
Running wasn't enough anymore. Think, Snart! Think! The door, a Bat, a Robin. Gun aiming down, she glazes the floor and steps her boots down, pushing off, starting to glide. Gliding was faster than running - for whatever reason, it was working. Definately something to test out later. It would be later, too. A shift here, a skid there, her heavy-soled boots catch thanks to Batwoman's movements. Ice was good to work in straight lines, but a dodge?
Her foot hits dry floor and then a bird crashes into her body. Cradling the gun against her chest, the girl slams into a counter and wall. Her running stops. Huffing out, the jaring stop causes her visors to fall off her face. Think, Snart…Think…Don't get locked up again.
Her gloved fingers dig at the gun, twisting, pulling. Rolling to face the pair, she glares their way, baring teeth as she holds up what looks to be a canister of sorts, the solution inside glimmering and blue. "I'll take us all, don't think I won't. Back up!"
Batwoman is on her feet again and taking a deep breath, her hands raised.She reaches toward her belt and produces another of the "bat fangs" she always carries. "Look. Drop the grenade. Now."
Meanwhile, Kate is subvocalizing, "We have to be careful not to damage the grenade. We don't know what will happen if it bursts open." So saying, Batwoman is advancing again. Slowly.
"I don't believe you have any intention of dying here. Over some jewelry? Give me a break, Snart. You can still get out of this if you drop the grenade and the jewels."
Red Robin disengages the grapnel and lands atop a counter. There. Totally not-frozen counter is better than icy floor, even if he is standing in some broken glass. But that canister still gives pause.
Unknown chemical solution. Glowing blue, but without a sample or a better view, and some time with the Batcomputer, he just can't tell more about it. He doesn't know what kind of gear Snart's packing — that Fries-tech was new, and who knows what else she lifted? But there are some things he does know about her. While it's apparently not an exclusive relationship, she does have a remarkable attachment to that cold-gun. She even gave it a name. What was it? Gladys? Jadis.
And that gun lies right over there. Out of Snart's reach, but in grapnel range. They have other leverage.
Gachink, whirr, and then Red Robin catches the gun in his free hand. "And I know you wouldn't want to leave this behind."
Lena Snart tsks again, fingers gripping the canister without a tremble or shake of fear. "Not about the score, Knight, it's about not going into a damn cage again. I'd kill before doing that…and I'll survive this better than you." Her nose twitches. "I always survive."
Slinking back, attempting to, Cold was soon finding herself between a rock and a hard place, or…Batfolks and a wall. Noticing her gun, the precious thing she developed and made, now in the hands of Robin, her brows knit. Her breath catches, chest heaves, and with a dark grin she slams the canister down, shattering it across the floor. Turning, rushing, she slams her fist into the Bird's face, a heavy hook as her other hand snatches the gun. She didn't have the door, but she had the window Tim used earlier. Cold was going for it.
"Red, look out!" It's strange to call out 'Red' to someone other than herself. Batwoman reaches out a hand reflexively. She lunges, but Lena is able to dart past her, leaving the marine briefly jostled aside, and unable to stop the ensuing conflict from going down. Then there's the canister. It hits the ground and- bounces. Once. Twice. …ANd then it explodes in a glittering splatter of polar iciness. Kate's left boot is struck and the heel freezes. She slips and slides, her arms going out to stabilize herself, an ends up almost tumbling almost in a circle. The counter she collides with shatters into a thousand icy hunks of petrified wood.
Plenty of distance between Batwoman and Cold now.
Red Robin get's a second to watch that dark grin spread over Cold's face, and then a split-second to process her smashing the canister and rush towards him. But, he has her gun. Surely she wouldn't be so audaci—
Fist meet face. He reels from it, but from up on the counter, there's not so much ice to worry about. His free hand comes up, batting at her side, though the blow doesn't land too heavily.
And then she's going for the window, and Batwoman is dangerously close to Ground Absolute Zero. Red Robin leaps from the counter, grabbing his fellow Bat about the shoulders and drawing them both towards the back door, exiting just as Snart had first come in. They need to get away from that canister before Staten Island, aka Hell, freezes over.
Somewhere, ten minutes ago, there'd been a sparking of wires and the revving of an engine. After that…well, it had been a long seven minutes in the drivethrough, but a Jewelry store? Well…that should have been a piece of cake. He'd been halfway into unwrapping his burger when he'd finally flicked the earpiece back on.
Then he'd overheard the Bat problem. Damn it.
Two minutes ago, there'd been a call to 911 about a car driving erratically and dangerously through traffic, but it would take the PD a while to lock down exactly where the vehicle was, and by then? He was already on his way. Three seconds ago? Mick Rory had planted his foot on the accelerator of the stolen high-powered 4WD with a savage grin and a laugh. All of it counted down to a single moment: When the car slams heavily into the storefront and -through- just far enough for the man to open and stand up, over the door while brandishing his gun. "Bad Time?" he calls, gleefully arming his weapon and turning it towards the shape of the bats. "I'm looking for a piece of ice for a special lady!"
After all the crygenics and stasis of Lena's gun? The sudden wave of hyper-excited molecular flame that spews forth would feel all the more brutal. It might be intended simply to cover Lena's escape, but it was unlikely Mick Rory would cry if it happened to set bat or bird ablaze. "C'mon Cold, I got you a milkshake. Get in!"
The space was toxic, flooding with a chilled chemical that was crackling on everything it touches. The crash, the flash of fire and the air sparks electric. The sudden changes were dangerous. "Vanilla?" Cold asks as she rushes pass the massive brute with his gun, giving the back of his jacket a tug to signal it was time to go. With the hummer making a new 'door', she slips into the driver's side and crawls into the passenger seat. "Move it, Hotstuff!" She calls out from her window, giving the side of the door a steady pair of thumps.
The glow of fire is strangely muted by the glittering of ice as it quickly consumes the shop. Windows crack and counters sag as Batwoman and Red Robin are sprinting across the jewelry shop. The few standing cases collapse to the ground as wood screams and groans from the sudden expansion of water molecules inside of it before freezing utterly. Even the jewels are encased in ice.
That is when the heat hits. Fries particles manipulate matter in a way that is frankly not understood by the scientific minds of the era. Victor had found a way to literally suck the heat- that is to say, the energy- out of objects and cause them to instantly turn to ice. In many ways, it's similar to how Jadis works—- which poses a potential problem. As fire washes over the backs of the fleeing caped crusaders it also contacts the super chilled particles of wooden shrapnel scattered in all directions. The toxic fumes that turn anything they touch into ice. Those molecules abruptly begin to move. They try to refuse.
The resulting fireball engulfs the entire building in seconds, fleeing bats and all, with pieces of it thrown into the air. A dying neon sign indicating '--BUY GOLD!" crashes to the ground just to the left of Mick's fleeing car.
Red Robin keeps his head down, and though he pushes forwards, he keeps himself angled so his cape covers Batwoman as well. He's not wearing the cold-insulated one today, but this one still is fireproof. So when the blastwave comes, it forces him forwards but doesn't scorch him to cinders, and his positioning helps keep Batwoman's cape from getting any more tattered as a result.
The smoke clears; he recovers. "She really needs to get that guy to start looking before he pulls the trigger." The rap sheets indicate just how much of a… problem… that generally is. "Good news is, we know what happened to that Fries gun that got stolen from his old cache. Bad news is, they're getting away back to their hideout."
Red Robin's doing that thing where he takes his time leading up to something. He has the good nature not to actually smirk, at least. "Other good news: have your map follow tracker RR-11."
The problem with Mick's gun is it doesn't so much create fire any more than Lena's gun creates ice. A direct hit could excite the molecules of asbestos and steel in equal measure…but this wasn't a direct hit and that probable made all the difference. By the time the explosion goes off? The car had already been screaming in reverse and away from the scene, pelted with a little debris. All the while? The pyro just grins as he reaches to retrieve his half-eaten burger.
Of course, the car would be ditched before they hit the safehouse, but thoughts of sweeping for bugs and trackers was far more of Lena's consideration than his, but the massive 4WD roaring away from a giant fireball was enough for him to consider it a good night's work.