Fish in a Barrel

Summary:
November 28, 2014: The Fish gang attempt to rob Waffletown Cafe. Deadshot saves the day! What a hero!

Waffletown Cafe

Some silly little cafe that sells chicken and waffles.


Characters

NPCs

  • Carp
  • Salmon
  • Tristie
  • Tuna

Mood Music:
[*<http://insert.video.or.music.link.here>]


The Waffletown diner near the Metropolis waterfront wasn't exactly a dive. As a chain restaurant, albeit a regional one, the menu was standard, the cooking predictable, and the atmosphere as generic as possible. Pictures of Metropolis celebrities dotted the walls, from baseball players to politicians to, of course, Superman. Every place in Metropolis tried to get a picture with Superman at least once. If you didn't have one, people would talk.

The standard building rules apply. A central entrance with a counter and stools, then booths lining the walls forward and back, with the can in the rear on the right side. You would probably need it if you touched the Wisenheimer special - a breakfast plate of waffles, ham, bacon, and sausage with hashbrowns shaped like a smiley face. Since Waffletown was 24/7, many a late night drunk had made these potatoes speak. The waitresses tried to ignore it.

Floyd Lawton, the man they call Deadshot, has a booth to himself on the left hand side. He can see the entrance and the glass front windows pretty clearly. He's got sunglasses on indoors and didn't even respond to the waitress teasing him that he ought to take them off. He wasn't in a bad mood, but he wasn't feeling that cutesy either. Cutesy girls never liked him anyway. He didn't remind anyone of Daddy. She may've seen his pistols, but she didn't say anything. Maybe he was a cop. Floyd sometimes gave off a cop vibe, which he found endlessly amusing.

The three heading towards the place out front wouldn't find it amusing. Salmon, Tuna and Carp. The Fish Gang. Small time crooks who mugged and ran ragged on the waterfront. Too small change to get the attention of Superman, although that would probably change after today. Salmon's pink hair stands out atop her head as she kicks open the door, shotgun in hand. Carp goes left, Tuna goes right, both of them with auto pistols.

Salmon, the leader because she's the only one with half a brain cries out: "EVERYBODY BE COOL THIS IS A ROBBERY! ANY OF YOU FUCKIN' PRICKS MOVE, AND WE'LL EXECUTE EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!"

Whenever Lois Lane came back into town, she always visited her girlfriend, Tristie at the Waffletown diner. Because whenever she visits her? She gets a free slice of peach cobbler and the best, most chilled glass of milk that only a mother could create. But Tristie was no mother, she was the biggest fan of Superman, the red and blue dude that hung upon the wall and Lois Lane was almost a direct connection to him. So it was no wonder that whenever she came in, Lois had a story to tell about the Man of Steel, this time about how he saved a man's live who was shot in the neck before he dealt with the criminals. Something that was left out of the papers, just this once.

The man in recovery? He needed and wanted privacy. The media tends to glorify victims that were saved by Superman.

"He's got two girls Tristie, three and four. I don't think he'd want us to write about him. I mean, just a quick little search and we could probably easily find his name according to his wounds, they are pretty unique."

That was Lois' reasoning and she was sticking to it. She finishes the pie just in time to take a call; Chloe, her cousin who she hadn't spoken to in a while. It was almost kismet, for the moment the call came in, Lois was heading towards the womens bathroom.. that door closing and the front opening to the Fish Gang and their intents to rob the place.

"Chloe.. hold on.." Lois murmurs, peeking out of the womens wash room. It gave her a side view of Floyd, who she noticed going in. He was a cop, right? He felt like one, looked like one of those transfers from New York. Maybe.. just maybe he could help. "I'll call you back."

Floyd Lawton literally rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses as the three enter, "God damn it," he mutters. The counter guy's hands are already up, as are most of the customers, the ones who aren't keeping their heads down and trying not to look. The Fish don't bother with masks - they've all been busted enough, cops'd know it was them anyways. Plus, isn't that how you made your name these days? They might not have costumes, but they had their codenames. All they needed was the cash to get the flash.

Floyd could've killed all three of them already, of course, but he wasn't sure if he should. Being public wasn't exactly part of his job description these days - and the last thing he needed was somebody trying to make him a fucking hero. These people all looked scared out of their wits. Two women were just crying hysterically.

Fucking Metropolis. People in Gotham at least knew how to act when they were getting robbed. Saved everybody a lot of time and trouble.

Floyd lights up a cigarette, figuring the waitress'll be too busy to bitch at him about it.

"Now, my pal, Carp, he's gonna be goin' down the line. Everybody just put your cell phones an' wallets and purses and crap in there. Jewelry, too. I see anybody talkin' on a phone, callin' in the heat or just gettin' jittery as hell, I'm gonna just kill 'em, ya dig?" Salmon calls out. "You, counterman, start emptyin' that register. Safe, too. Use a trash back. Double bag that shit, too."

Listening from the bathroom, Lois pretty much does what they want her to not do. Call the police.

"Hello, 9-1-1, please state your emergency."

"There's a robbery here in Waffletown Diner. Three perps, two male and one female."

"Ohmigod, is this Lois Lane?"

"Goddamm it!" She hangs up the phone immediately. The phone was soon set down upon the floor by the door, along with her purse and other belongings, she was sure that no one would check the bathroom for a stash, so when she exits, she does so with her hands up and pressed against the wall to keep her legs steady and her resolve cool. She has nothing on her person, probably a few dollars in her pants pocket, nothing else worth taking unless they want her earrings.

She continues to slide slowly towards Floyd, her eyes remaining upon the three and the others there, her heart breaking as the women begin to cry. Poor Tristie, she looked a wreck but.. on the inside? She's hoping for Superman to come and save the day, which was easily told by the constant glances towards Lois' way.

"Hey.." Lois whispers out, once she gets into ear shot. "Are you a cop?"

Carp's eyes go wide as he comes around to pick up the line of customers, heading towards Floyd, only to see the most famous woman in Metropolis standing right in front of him with her hands in the air. Holy shit. "Uh, Salmon, is we supposed to rob Lois Lane? I mean, won't…HE…be mad about it and come after us?"

Salmon comes around and cuffs Carp on the back of the head with her shotgun, "Stupid fuck, she's the richest person in here. Get everything she's got. Superman ain't gonna come after us jus' cause we took a watch from his piece of ass." she says disdainfully, giving Lois a hateful glare.

Floyd's voice is low enough for only Lois to hear, as the report provides him enough cover to draw one of his .45s. "Nope. Lucky for you. Keep standin' in front of me and spread your legs a bit. Pretend Big Blue wants you to ride cowgirl."

While the three talk, or.. argue just a little, Lois does as Floyd says, taking a huge step towards the left, legs parted, her arms still stretched in attempts to hide Floyd from their view. To keep the attention on her? She smacks her lips loudly.

"Hey! I am /no ones/ piece of ass. You better get that straight." She was indignant to the core, she's heard many slurs in regards to her and Superman's relationship. They were best friends, of course. Yet everyone else believed different.

"Do something then.." She mutters out, then clears her throat again to gain attention.

"All I have to do is scream and he'll come running. Just put down the peoples stuff and get out, and no one will ever hear about this again. You all got that?"
Lois Lane might've been the epitome of a strong, modern woman, but she still wore a skirt, a knee-length one that she'd currently spread between her knees right in front of Floyd, hiding his actions. Which is why it's a shock when the bullet blasts through the center of the fabric and out to catch Carp right in the face, blowing his head back to splatter skin and skull onto the roof, taking out an eye with a gelatinous pop, "AGH, FUCK!"

The startling thing might be that Floyd had to make that shot blind, just by hearing Carp's voice. Unless he could see through Lois, but he doesn't seem like a damn Kryptonian.

He does underestimate Salmon, though. Instead of reacting to Carp getting brained, she fires immediately, shotgun to shoulder and blasting, a rapid pump chambering another shell in its wake. Floyd tries to pull Lois down, but, while he saves her from getting her chest blown out, he can't get her totally clear. One of those padded shoulders gets chewed and bloodied, buckshot sending spattering burns across her left cheek, the side of her neck, along her ribs.

Floyd comes up and fires again, this time sending a bullet right down the barrel of that shotgun, hitting the next shell even as Salmon pulls the trigger, making the weapon explode in her hands, "FUCK!" the pink haired woman screams as she's forcibly disarmed, her hands cut with splinters of metal.

Lois was no stranger to danger, or violence. There were things that happened around her that were consistent enough for her to be used to. But her small time in Syria, the train and now this? It puts her entire life in perspective. It flashes right before her eyes.

It started with the heat from the bullet that rips through her skirt like a crotch shot, the eye that explodes there after. Adrenaline kicked in dangerously high, moved everything in slow motion…

'I'm going to need a vacation after this', she thought to herself. 'Maybe I should change my hair color to red', another thought. Your mind works in mysterious ways in attempts to calm it down.

The hand to her shoulder wasn't quick enough, the bullets singe her face and side, shoulder and ribs, pain ripping through her which causes her to curl up upon the ground she falls to in a loud scream.

'I wonder if Superman knows my screams.' She thought during.. or.. the thought during comes out.. 'Have I ever screamed before?' and.. 'Is this really me screaming?'

The mind is weird.

Floyd Lawton comes up fast, drawing his other gun and aiming off to the side, catching Tuna as he comes around to back up his leader. Floyd doesn't even look in his direction, the assassin stepping over the falling Lois, her head cracking against the tile (mild concussion) as he finishes the job he started.

His bullet tears through Tuna's throat, even as Floyd uses his other gun to hit Carp one more time, putting one through his sternum to make sure he stays dead. Sometimes a brain graze just wasn't enough to make somebody stay down.

Which leads to him standing about two feet in front of Salmon, who looks at him with unbelieving eyes, holding up her bloody hands, "You fuckin' shit! Ah, fuck, I give up, I give up!" she cries, raising her hands over her head.

Floyd holds both pistols on the criminal as she surrenders, "Everybody hear that? She gives up! You're all safe. No more trouble here!"

And then he unloads six rounds into Salmon's chest, blasting the girl back, walking forward, his rapid fire shots keeping her on her feet until she crashes back through the glass front door and into the street.

"Ruin my fuckin' breakfast," Floyd says, ashing his cigarette as he turns back to check on Superman's girlfriend.

'Oh no, they're dead. Someone is going to be upset.'

There goes that brain of hers, she didn't even realized that she had stopped screaming. But what she did realize was that she was getting colder, and tired. Gotta get up Lois. Gotta move.

The patrons were startled and still cowering, some even crying over their precious Lois. Was she dead?

"Ow.."

Nope.

But she was laying in a pool of her own blood, her good arm reaching over to press a hand print against the ground, causing it to slip and her to lean back just a little, her gaze fading rather quickly due to the concussion she's sustained. She could barely even breathe, her head hurt, and.. something smells funny.

"Are they gone.. are they gone.." She repeats quietly, her gaze glancing up towards Floyd.. and he looked like a blurry outline of a dude with scrappy hair. It was kind of cute. Sort of.

Floyd Lawton has put away his guns and picks up a woozy busboy, the nervous kid having falling to a kneeling position, dizzy from all the bloodshed. Floyd slaps the young man's cheek lightly, "Hey there, pally. C'mon, wakey wakey, eggs and bakey. Go get somethin' Lois Lane can lay on, so she can be comfortable. An' gimme this," he says.

He comes over with the bellboy's white apron, kneeling down next to the pretty reporter, as he lifts her up surprisingly gently. Shock's a bitch, Floyd knows, but the wound, while deep, isn't likely to be lethal. He wraps the apron around into a makeshift tourniquet, soaking up blood and applying pressure to keep her from bleeding too much. "Keep your eyes open, girly, that's right, don't wanna pass out when your brains all bruisy an' shit. You gotta stay awake for when your boyfriend shows up. By the way, if he does, you don't know me, you never seen me, I wasn't here," he grins.

"You're gonna be okay," he says, standing up and looking down at Lois, lighting a fresh cigarette off its predecessor. "On second thought…you tell him. Tell Superman. Deadshot says he owes me one." he says, and then makes his way out, handing a hundred to the waitress for his cup of coffee, "Ain't your fault sister. Go take care o' yer pal, keep her head up, get her some water, keep her awake. She starts seizin' or anything…fuck, I dunno, just hope she doesn't fuckin' do that, huh? Money's fer your trouble. Sorry 'bout the mess," he says.

And then Floyd Lawton calmly steps over Salmon's body, adjusting his sunglasses. He looks down at the dead girl, her eyes still wide with shock. "Ain't no honor among thieves, girlie. Even less among killers," he says. Then Deadshot strolls on to his Lincoln, hops on in and drives away, passing the ambulances as they whip down the street.


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