Not A Crime Fighter

October 30, 2014: Partisan takes a visit to Gotham and hits someone. Oracle watches…


A wretched hive of scum and villainy. You know. Gotham.



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Mood Music:

Andrei Kerilenko is a heavy hitter, a rapist, a multiple murderer and a former GRU operative who saw extensive actions in Chechnya. He's also an international war criminal, calling him a priority target is putting it very lightly. Even before he took over the Red fellas in Gotham, he was on a very short list of very bad guys. Since torturing and burning the prior godfather's entire family to death, he'd pushed the Red Fellas underground and Russian arms were starting to flood Gotham. We're not talking Glocks, and Americanized semi automatic AKs. We're talking machineguns, grenades and explosives. Everything he did, just made him more and more of a target. Andrei however, has been very fucking smart thusfar. The guy's a ghost, and a legitimate badass. He'd already put three street level capes on the injured list, and damn near killed another. He was a fucking animal, and tonight he'd met his match.

This had started days before really, Partisan had always done well to avoid operating in Gotham. Supposedly out of respect for the bat, woman had something of a soft spot for capes or so the rumor gos. Then one of Andrei's "little Fish" apparently ripped her off, some sort of arms deal for lord only knows what. She'd killed him in return, and the six made men who'd gone looking for her. Tonight, she was looking for him in return. It was rare enough that he allowed himself to move around in the open, but his face was distinctive mixture of scars and goatee.

Darkness, and Andrei is all alone. Walking briskly down a sidewalk in a rough part of town. Not that he supposedly has much to fear, but the behavoir is wildly unusual. Then into camera's frame she strolls, red hair hidden partially under a ratty dark grey ballcap. That'd be the motherfucking Partisan, in the wild and on the hunt. Walking calmly on the opposite side of the street, it'd be easy to chalk it up to coincidence, if it wasnt for the stubby AK carbine held low along her side. It'd appear Andrei hasn't figured her out just yet, but well he's clearly trying to shake -somone-.


Since their involvement days ago, Oracle has been watching for Partisan. She'd pinged on Oracles comms systems a few times, most lately at the political rally but in general, the woman had kept her head down. Certainly, Oracle has received the results from their earlier investigation but it's left her uneasy. She doesn't really know Partisan apart from the media information she's been able to pull together. Intelligence is one thing, but knowing your assets is something else entirely.

In the Clocktower, her face lit by the glow of her monitors, Oracle is watching the nighttime streets of Gotham for signs of unrest or just general mayhem when, on when window a familiar figure shows… Partisan! Where the hell is the Womans communicator… it musn't be turned on, or it would have registered on Oracles systems.


Andrei halts, and so does the Partisan in perfect unison. Then very slowly, he unbuttons his woolen overcoat and just shrugs it off to reveal the kevlar and desert eagle in a shoulder holster. Part just gives that AK a snap of the wrist, artfully snapping that safety up before swinging it mutely to shoulder. In utter silence, he slowly lifts his hands in the classic surrender position and stands perfectly still. Instantly Part's on the move, gracefully backpedaling before crossing the street without a single moment where her Carbine isn't aimed after him. "You cannot shoot me, not here. You don't want to make too many waves, right Suchka? You'll need to arrest me, and we both know I'll be out in a week."

"Long time no see Andrei, where was it we last met? Venezuela was it, back when we still fought under flags? I didn't take prisoners then, why would I start with a fucking amatuer-hour conscript like you?"Andrei's face contorts instantly, he drops a hand to that pistol as he beguns to turn. Gunfire rings out, as Part pounds the back of his vest with a trio of rounds which slip right on through. He whirls, that nickle plated desert eagle whirling after her, before she puts another ten through the front of his chest and down he goes in a pile. "Come on you worthless shit, get up! The fuck makes you think I'm finished with you."Prowling foreward with her AK trained on the fallen man. Blood pooling, as he drunkenly tries to work that blood slicked safety of his silly handcannon.


Watching Partisans actions on the video feeds, Oracle sighs deeply. That tears it.

Sending out a call to the Gotham PD, gunshot victim and the co-ordinates, Oracles green gaze is steely. Whoever Partisan is, she's just breached the Bat code and there may no coming back that.


Andrei's still moving, not quite dead yet as the Partisan approaches. Calmly kicking the gun away, before just dropping that carbine off the the side. Then, she dips a hand down and pops his vest off and pitches it aside. Off comes the backpack, and she does perhaps the least expected thing. She jerks free a medical kit, tears open his shirt and goes to work with the calm proficciency of somone who's done this before. Not even missing a beat as she fishes out the Oracle's headset, and pops it into her ear. "Hey Oracle, you online?"

Fingers move swiftly, and nimbly, as she dumps in the quick-clot and begins applying bandages. "I was wondering if you could rouse a Ambulance to my part of town, things got messy."He's coughing up blood and gasping, which is relieved immediately by a hand slid under the base of his neck to roll his head back just a touch.


Finally! Partisans communicators comes live on Oracles screens. Tapping her comms "Given I've been watching the whole, I'm not surprised." The voice might be digitally encoded, but the dry tone should convey. "Emergency services, Ambulance and PD inbound. If you don't want to be caught, you need to disappear, but you and I need to talk Partisan."


"Take a chill pill, he's gut shot. He'll live through this, he doesn't get a mafia funeral."-POP- goes that bone gun, before hanging an IV bag from a nearby car antenna and quickly plugging in the drip. Then she's off, Rubbing pure alcohol into her hands. "I get you folks over here are big on the no kill shit, if I wanted him dead I'd have done it from a mile away."Tossing the little bottle of alcohol, before flailing her hands around abit to get them dried. "I was inclined to let him have a safe harbor over here, being old war buddies and shit. Fucking hit squads in my AO, is where I draw the line however."


"And this," Oracles voice projects through the earpiece "Is my area." OK, technically, it's The Bats area, but Oracle sees everything. "If you need assistance, professional courtesy would have been a heads up BEFORE the situation, not AFTER." The line goes silent for a period before Oracle speaks again "I understand vendetta's Partisan, but if you want my assistance, then we work together."


"I wasn't expecting to do this here, I do apologize for whatever that's worth."Part just slips into an alley, and well goodness she knows this game well. "This wasn't a police action, this isn't anything you'd understand. I understand I probably sound like a huge bitch right now, but this is on another level. Between soldiers, between instructor and student. Not that I wanted to train the rat bastard granted, they basically put a gun to my husband's head. What we want however, has nothing to do with what actually happens. So this was my mess, and I'm sorry it had to happen here. Old scores, old wars started before you were born. If you want, I'll make it up to you. Fair enough?"


"I certainly understand that things happen and get out of control, and just this once, I'll consider it such." Oracle doesn't give ground perse "I'll take the debt, Partisan. Now, what can you tell me?"

The woman in the wheelchair in the Clocktower sits back in her chair. The dossier she has on Partisan, open in another window on her screens.


"From nineteen thirty five, to nineteen eighty one I was an employee of the Central Intelligence Agency and well the OSS before that. I toppled governments, I trained freedom fighters and I fought in every single war the US had going and more than a few it didn't. I did these things without pay, for the promise of citizenship upon retirement. They shanked me instead, so I retired in Colombia. Found a very good man, got married. My husband was a Police Officer, eventually so was I. I followed the letter of the law, I became a strict civilian and I thought all of that was over with. Then, Pablo Escobar shows up. Puts a bounty out for the head of any Police officer, and the CIA tells me they'll grant us both citizenship if I just do this one thing for them."Part glances over her shoulder, popping out on another sidewalk and pausing to light a cigarette.

"So it starts with training these irregulars, Andrei amongst them. The Russians were potentially our friends after the wall fell, and they had a drug problem too. So I taught some Russians, a lot of former narcos and then they couldn't hack it. Some, like Andrei took the money and ran. So they say, Pablo is still alive the job isn't done. So I put my mask on, and I go to work to try and save my husband's life. They tell me, it needs to be dirty and mean and extra violent. I oblige, but that isn't enough so I do as I'm told because my husband's life is on the line. Finally Pablo gets killed, job over. Good job they tell me, before they abduct us. Torture the fucking shit out of us, put a gun to my Husband's head and pull the trigger. Then they throw me in a succession of CIA black sites, and they forget about me. I spend ten years in Solitary, before I break out. Now here I am, on another American alphabet agency's team."Part pauses her little story there, flicking her smoke away before lighting another.

"I'm not a crime fighter, I'm not a hero or a vigilante. I'm a soldier, I fight wars. I've been at this shit for a hundred twenty some odd years now, Oracle. I've walked amongst mass graves, I've seen and done things there is no language for. I can describe for you, what chemical weapons smell like if you fancy because I've been hit with most of them over the years. I don't pretend to be anything but exactly what I am, a Partisan. I abandoned my name, when I died and all this began for me. So if you think I do anything just because, or for petty bullshit like revenge you need to think again."Pausing there, as the partisan draws to a halt at a crosswalk. Wouldn't want to jaywalk, now would we?


Oracle is silent for a period. Absorbing the information that has been provided. It certainly fits with the information in the dossier and things start to become much clearer. "OK, I'm listening." The red head sits forward in her chair, for once resting her elbows on the desk and her head in her hands. There is an immense amount of compassion in her green eyes.


"What is necessary is not always morally right, and what's right is not always practical. I'm not a terrorist, I'm not a fucking assasin, I'm a Partisan. I don't expect for you to like it, because to be honest I sure as fuck don't and I'm the one doing it. Trust me, I am so utterly sick and fucking tired of all of this. When somone comes along who can do this job better than I can, I'll retire on the spot."Pausing as she lifts a hand to her ear. "We'll talk later, if you fancy. If you're done with me, fine. Either way, I'm signing off. I need a shower, and a good fuck. Goodnight." Ever poetic, the Partisan. Amirite?


"Goodnight, Keep in touch, we'll talk. Oracle Out." says the digitally enhanced voice. Back in the Clocktower, Oracle tilts her head to one side, watching Partisan through the video feeds.

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