Gods and Monsters: Lead Showers

October 31, 2014: To die in a hail of bullets.. (Emits by The Wall)

Red Hook

Somewhere in Gotham, that's not nice.



  • Veruca
  • Barbosa's Henchmen

Mood Music:


"I don't want to say that you'll be saving the world, but you'll be saving millions of humans should this mission be successful. It's suicide, there may be casualties, and I'll have my team there to assist. I may even come myself, as I see threats to humans personal." She stands now, drawing the bag from the bed to slip upon a shoulder. "As natural, you'll be rewarded handsomely for this. And should you need my services, or Stormwatch, we'll be there. Just not for this one. It seems.. that this is something you have to do on your own." Sparing no fanfaire or speedy exit, she moves towards the window to throw the rope outside, and then heads to the door. She'll settle for the stairs, a brisk walk is in order."

The grip of the foreign metal against Barbosa's arm was a tight one; he often struggled with it, the bonding and unbonding nature that it possesses. But each use of the Hand of Ptah seemed like he was closer to something greater. Able to see his foes coming from a mile away and benefitting from it. Profits were made with seeing the future; and it came at the price of his very own well being.

It was like he was in the bedroom with them. An unknown man who seemed to be sick. He gleamed the name: Keith. Another who made tea. Garfield. And the Woman.


"I'm surprised you let him live," Robin says from the shadows. "Not really your MO. Got your message." He makes no move to come out from the shadows, and the white lenses of his eyes are all that is readily visible to normal folks. "What have we got?"

He pulled against the metals that bound his skin inside, ripping and tearing, pulling skin all at the same time to be free from the madness of the visions. He thought they were madness, someone to go against him and take what was his? Madness.

"Gotham." He barks out, finally removing the piece of the armor but holding tight to make sure that it does not fall to the ground. In other words, it was his precious. His.

The shocking ombre of blue hair and leathered legs stand from the chair to approach the mirror, phone immediately pulled from her pockets and pressed to alabaster toned ear, already speaking into the phone as she begins to rally. A look at her reflection, and eyes of the same color yet iced over seemingly appreciates the visage, then disappears into it with a push and a step of booted heel against the surface.


Midnighter sent Damian a message via Vorpal. He'd be in Red Hook tonight and wanted to talk to him. True to his word, he's in Red Hook. On the roof of a decrepit building, he's persuading a junkie to give up the name of his dealer. Surprisingly, the junkie had a backbone and refused to talk at first. But being held upside down by an ankle and dangled off the side of the building fixed that. "Good boy." he says as he drops him into the roof. "If I hear you warned him I'm coming, you'll be going over the side. Now get lost." In just seconds, Midnighter is alone.

"I'm surprised you let him live," Robin says from the shadows. "Not really your MO. Got your message." He makes no move to come out from the shadows, and the white lenses of his eyes are all that is readily visible to normal folks. "What have we got?"

"Junkies are victims. I don't kill victims unless they've graduated to preying on others to get their fix." Midnighter says, turning to look at the patch of shadow that contains Damian. "There's a mission in Egypt. A very bad man is going to discover that crime doesn't pay. I immediately thought of you."

"Well, remind me to bring my graphing calculator the next time I'm trying to figure out what the rules are," Robin says with a chuckle. He falls silent at the mention of a job. A mission in Egypt. "Tell me more."

"Or you could just ask me if you care." Midnighter points out. "Egypt. Government sanctioned. Criminal. Magical artifact. Elimination and retrieval in that order. Should be fun." He seems finished till he adds "Some of your friends are also going in on as a separate team. Vorpal and Changeling."

Robin nods, "Define elimination and retrieval." Although, with how he's being treated amongst the Bat-clan, Damian is dangerously close to flipping that team the bird. No pun intended. Oh, who am I kidding? Pun totally intended.

"Exactly what you think they mean." Midnighter answers with an impatient snort. "The artifact is to be retrieved. The man eliminated. And anyone defending him, of which there's at least a couple metahumans. Since the artifact confers some foresight, it should be an interesting fight."

"You know I cannot go and eliminate someone. I don't know why you continue to come at me with this. If you want my help, I'm sorry," Robin says with a shake of his head, now visible in the shadows. "I am not going to kill."

"So don't." Midnighter counters. "Your friends don't intend to either. There's others for that." Himself included. "You're decent in a fight from what I've seen and you're from the area. You could see something important. It also pays well."

The building adjacent from where the two men stood and talked seemed to be busy with life. Though sight unseen since the space was dark.

However, occasionally, little flashes of light could be seen, even though the building was vacant, at that point in time? Someone was /there/.

It starts with a soft whirring sound…

A low dim of red..



The sounds could be heard in rapid succession; tiny explosions from that same building which pelts bullets into the surface. It starts near the top of the window, the last before the roof, then hails and attempts to rain down fire upon the two who meet in secret.

Who knew they were going to be there?
"Tt," Robin says with a laugh, "Who says I care anything for mon—" He pauses, sensing something about to start. "Get down."

Robin dives downward and rolls behind a metal vent, even as his hand begins to go for his utility belt. "Who in the hell is this, I wonder?"

Midnighter is diving for the vent as soon as the whirring starts. "I mentioned foresight." Waller did suggest they might send people to try to eliminate the threat before they even left. Seems she was right. "Amateurs depending on rapid fire instead of accuracy." Not that accuracy would help them either. Rolling out from behind the vent on the other side, he runs for the ledge and launches himself off the building. As the assassins adjust their aim, a few bullets glance off his armor but a couple hit less defended spots. They'll heal and he just shuts down his pain receptors. He's going to miss the top of the roof but that wasn't his target. He'll be going through the window next to the one they're firing through.

And endless hail of bullets; the rain down upon the top of the roof, the little red hot missile like bullets zipping through the air, no matter the aim nor accuracy. They were sent there for a reason. Not to kill, (but if it happens? Yay!) but to scare and possibly maim those present. If a few little eggs get squashed in the hellfire? So be it.

The rain of bullet stops as a figure jumps from the roof and into the direction of the fire, the man handling the turret giving the signal to back the others away into the middle of the room, machine guns at the ready to blow the face off the one who approaches.

Meanwhile, on the roof, a figure slowly emerges from the darkness; ombre cotton-candy blue hair dangling over the rooftop to give a playful peek and back away into the darkness. "That's one." She counts softly. With a glance back, she smiles, hand lifting to gesture towards the other side of the block. "Go get 'em, pretty."

With those words, a blur flashes past the woman to leap just as the man had done, the force of the run causing her hair to wash violently over delicate, pale features. The other woman (an exact copy) of the one from before lands upon the roof, same voice lightly calling out in a sing-song manner.. "Are you still aliiiiiiive son? Hope you know to doooooodgeee!"

Robin watches Midnighter act recklessly and fling himself off the end of the building. Part of him is impressed with the gusto. The other part is concerned that the old man may have bitten off more than he can chew. Either way, Midnighter could use some help.

As Midnighter draws their fire, Robin is about to fling a handful of flashbombs towards the building, but pump-fakes as he hears someone calling out to him in a singsong manner. He holds his position, waiting for her to move. From the shadows, he flings those flashbombs, eager to take her by surprise.

Midnighter crashes through the window of the empty room next to where the gunmen are. He rolls, ignoring the glass shards and ends up on his feet once enough inertia has been absorbed. He kicks down the door leading to the hallway and it makes a satisfyingly loud bang to let them know he's on his way in. Then he returns to the window and puts his new grapel gun to a field test. It hooks on the ledge of the building he's in and he pushes off and then swings through the other window.

Veruca Two knew that it was coming, yet she stood there anyways. The only notion of movement she made in defense of the flash bombs was an arm and a twist of her head to shield from the flash of the bombs that hit near her. She releases a heavy cough, both arms waving to fan away the smoke as she continues to move, eyes slightly closed as she tries to manuever through the rooftops half blind.

"Boys and their /toys/." She comments, more so for herself than the one that was left upon the rooftop with her. "Come on out kid. Those bullets weren't meant for you. Your decision was not yet made, you can still escape with your future in tact."

Though why she was trying to sway him away from this game, was anyones guess.

But.. perhaps those men were filled with the wrong information. They expected Midnighter to come crashing through /their/ window, but yet he has not. The glass upon the other side of the building rings out; the ring leader catching wind of the new development draws his hand into a circle to split the men into the four corners of the room.

Barbosa predicted that he would be one of the first ones to go, he would prove his man god infallible. He positions himself in the middle of the room, ready and waiting for Midnighter to draw himself through.

Damian leans back in a defensive stance from his point in the shadows. She can see him now, for certain. The whites of the lenses over his eyes glow, and his figure and the sharp weapons he holds in his hands would look menacing to normal people. But it's clear this Veruca person is not normal.

"Speak," he says warily.

Midnighter lands on his feet facing the ring leader, a quick glance around the room showing him he's vastly outnumbered by the goon in the corners. He almost laughs when he sees he's in their crossfire. And so is their leader. It also means they're aiming at each other. Too easy. "You can give up now. Trust me. You really should."

A warm smile was soon drawn forth, a delicate hand soon waving away the rest of the smoke that clouds her vision. "A sensible man. I like this." She states. Even though his wariness was noted, she presses forth, his stance, his weaponry, all impressive. Even for the likes of /her/.

"In two months time, your name is crossed from the stars. Permanently." She continues to step forward, only stopping once she reaches a considerable distance. "You -will- die. Your association with that man.." A gloved thump is pointed back towards Midnighter, "..is going to be your downfall. Unless you let us help you."

Her words, they sung with conviction and truth, the need to not see one needlessly die. If she could push herself to cry she would have, but in this moment, t'was not appropriate.

Midnighter's landing in the middle of the room in front of the ringleader did not frighten them. They were well aware of their positions, and it was done so at Barbosa's order.

In case one of them attempts to fly? The rest is known.

Their answer was one in the same. Guns slowly hung down at their sides one by one, free hand clasping against their chest to the grenade belt that hung upon shoulders. One by one..


Pins were pulled and dropped..

Veruca One remained upon the roof, her hand lifting to glance upon the watch at her wrist. "Right on schedule." She turns then, running across the roof in the opposite direction to leap and clear the area, bounding from roof to roof to roof…

So many questions to ask, Robin thinks as he emerges slightly from the shadows. He walks towards her, closing the distance just a bit, and trying to trick her into thinking he's going slack. "My relationship with him? I barely know him. How do you know this?" It's clear he buys none of it.

Suicide bombers are such a pain in the ass. He's moving as soon as he detects the increased electrical activity in their brains. As their guns begin to lower, he changes his destination for the window. Pins get pulled. He leaps through it.

Veruca Two eases up a little, just because she knew that she could.

"You barely know him? Then I shall say that /he/ is a liar and he did not see you upon the ground, cloak ruined and tattered, life.. gone." A gloved hand lifts to crack a sharp snap..



The building behind Veruca Two explodes, rocking the foundations of the condemned one in which they stood. She does not flinch, but that gloved hand remains in the air as shoulders slump slightly.

"The end is nigh, little one. Your future lies in the choices you make: Walk away. Walk with the one. Or come with me. I will not force you."

You would not be able to force me," Damian says defiantly. "You seem to know a lot about me, but you haven't shared how. How do I know—" He's forced to regain his balance as the explosion rocks his building. Hopefully Midnighter was not on it when it blew.


He's heard the name, but that had more to do with the sea than with explosions and threats. "We'll see about that," he says, not quite with the force he'd have liked.

Midnighter didn't have enough momentum to make it to the other building across the way. He knew that he was going to be hitting the ground; it beats being caught in that explosion. Fortunately, the concussive force of all those grenades gives him added momentum. Unfortunately, he's caught in the blast. And he was /so/ close to a window too. Instead, he's slammed into the side of the other building before tumbling to the ground below. Some of the debris rains down on him where's he lying in the alley.

"Oh you are -fiesty-!" Hands clasp together as she shimmies just a little, a grin alighting her features as those hands uncurl to whisk the hair from her face. "I don't like to share."

And that was that. The conversation went on longer, far longer than Barbosa could see. She was ready to turn tail and leave, there was only so far she was willing to risk without the sight, and that was only because /she/ directed it.

"You were warned little one.." She sings again, finally whipping around to skip towards the end of the building where Midnighter fell; unbeknownst to them. "You are skilled, you are smart. And you are a /treasure/. You know how to find me…"

A soft and sweet tune slips from pale lips in the form of a whistle to the tune of 'Once Upon a Dream'.

Damian's leather gloves give that crinkle sound as his fists within them tighten. Asking more questions didn't seem like it was going to get him all the answers he wanted. Know how to find her? Not likely. The more she says, the more he feels like he doesn't know. What he does realize, however, is that he needs to and find out if MIdnighter is alright.

So, while every inch of him wants to make some snarky comment aimed at Veruca, Damian keeps his mouth closed for once. Getting into a verbal spat would waste time that Midnighter might need. He has been warned, it's true. And he definitely is a treasure, he knows that. But all of this was extremely unsettling.

Midnighter lies there a couple minutes before pushing the debris off of him and staggers to his feet. That would have really hurt if he was feeling most of the pain. As it is, he's aching. Positioning himself against the building wall, he slams his shoulder into it and it audibly pops back into its socket where it can begin healing. He wipes some blood off his chin and takes stock. It's going to be a bitch to clean the blood off the leather. Now where is the kid?

"Fuck your god," Damian says after Veruca finally leaves.

He swings off the side of the building and fires the grapnel gun at the last possible second. The metallic whine of the hook reaches out into the darkness and the young man pulls hard, gliding himself towards the ground where he quickly finds Midnighter.

"What in the hell was that?" he asks, looking over his shoulder for a moment.

Midnighter turns to watch Damian swing in as he hears the whine. "Mass suicide." he answers, looking the worse for wear and brushing small bits of brick off his coat. "Which would have been the case anyway had they tried to fight. But they saved me the effort by detonating all the grenades they were carrying. Where were you?"

"Up on the ledge, talking with your friend," Damian replies. "She says that I can choose to follow her, follow no one, or follow you. The latter option, of course, ends in death for me." He grits his teeth, "Who were those people?"

"What friend?" Midnighter asks. "Tell me what she looked like and what she said."

"I told you what she said," Damian replies. "As for how she looks…" He goes into a very descriptive, almost robotic retell of her features.

"I don't know her. But I'd guess they were sent by the target to try to stop us." Midnighter tells Damian. "Foresight, remember? And somehow he's convinced his thugs to die for him. He either pays them extremely well or has brainwashed them some how."

"Well, they're going to have their hands full. I'm coming with you," Damian says. "If they threaten to bring death to me, I'll bring it to their doorstep."

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