Out of Leagues

December 27, 2014: Fracture tries to lure a vigilante into a trap. She gets a Green Lantern.

// Red Hook //

Some area in Gotham.



  • A group of thugs

Mood Music:
[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xbIG_b2IMO0 ]

Stay Frosty.

At least that would be the motto for today in Gotham. There wasn't a flurry in the sky, a few smattered along the ground, the wind in the dark city at a chill that would make any normal person flush and fight to beat back the freeze with a warm coat and a rush along the streets to heat.

To say that tonight was like any other night? Would be laughable. New and old scry the streets; along with bad, terrible, the worst and somewhat good.

I am the terror that walks these streets at night, and my name is Veruca Glass.

Not really.

Today… no tonight, Veruca was just a woman attempting to get home. She was armed of course, but the thugs who stood nearby didn't know that. The thugs didn't know that.. after laying dormant for at least a week, that she was itching for a fight. To play in the blood of others innocent nor guilty.

Death does not discriminate, so why in the world should she?

"Hey baby. What you got in that bag?"

"Must be something, you holding it like that."

"Let us see it, c'mon sugar.."

Inwardly, Veruca smiles. This was typical. Typical fun on a Saturday night.

Hal Jordan sits near a corner in the same neighborhood, astride what appears to be a very large motorcycle. His jacket is pulled up, fleece warming his neck, and he has a warm, green mug that steams with what appears to be cocoa, a stylized 'H' emblazoned on the side of it. Sure, might be a little loose with the secret ID, but he's not exactly known in Gotham in either guise, and using his ring to make a mug keeps the cocoa nice and warm even in the temperatures.

When he hears the catcalling, though, he moves his legs and kicks the bike into low gear, cruising around the corner onto the same street as the catcallers and the lady in question.

"Oh, look, it's the annual moron and slackjaw convention. I was wondering who I was supposed to deliver this bag of whupass to…" he says.

Veruca kept walking, picking up the pace, heeled black boots thumping upon the walkway as the men pick up their own pace as well, trailing close to her six.

"Get away from me!" She plays into that role well, the damsel in distress, something that needed to be saved.

But little did the men know? They weren't following her. She was baiting /them/.

"Naw little mama, we're gonna get your purse.. and then we're going to see whatever else we could grab.."

One of the men lunge, grabbing her up by the shoulders, she was a tall drink of water to be sure, but one of the thugs manage to lift her from her feet to drag her back so that heels track a trail.

"Stop it!" She shouts, her eyes idly rolling into the back of her head as one of the goons wrestle her purse from her.

The one who grabbed her? Keeps her in a headlock, the chokehold threatening to grow tighter by the second.

Hal Jordan swears under his breath as he sees the men wrestling at the woman, trying to rob her. Luckily, they hadn't paid any attention to his face yet, as he forms it over his features, but leaves his jacket on. Time to make the donuts.

There's a flash of emerald light and suddenly the Lantern's there, his body covered in shimmering green as he throws a right cross into the one putting the chokehold onto the woman. Hal reaches out his other hand and a beam of force in the shape of a sledgehammer extends from his hand, hitting the other guy in the gut and launching him halfway down the street.

He puts a hand around the throat of the choker, hefting him up and staring down the others, as if urging them to come for him, his back to the woman as he makes himself her shield.

And this is the moment that would make mama proud, or would have.. if she weren't abandoned and deemed an orphan. She begins to cry.. sort of. Alright, it's dark out, she makes the sounds as if she were sobbing, and then.. the expected.

A hero emerges, tackling her prey one by one, leaving her a mess upon the ground and a cold ass that needs dealt with.

The men fly, but they weren't her focus anymore.. yet the one.. who was the possible ringleader, actually pulls out a gun sideways towards the newly arrived hero.

"I ain't afraid of you, punk!" The man mutters out, finger ready to squeeze the trigger…

All the while, Veruca is upon her feet, bag left upon the ground as her own coat was tossed aside to retrieve a thin blade.. drawing it back, intending to punch it forward through Green Lanterns spine…

Hal Jordan sighs and just shakes his head at the armed robber (Hey, he can be charged with armed robbery! Convenient!). He lifts the sledgehammer of green energy up to his shoulder, "Really? That's what I do, I know, is hold up a gun and shake like a chicken in the deep freeze whenever I'm not scared. Are your other signs of bravery pissing your pants or calling for your Mommy? I want to know so I can be intimidated."

And then he flicks his arm and the sledge seems to fly from his hand and collide with the robber, sending him flying across the street to smack against the side of a car. It would've set off a car alarm, but this is Gotham and nobody has ana larm in this part of town. The cops don't show up here.

Hal's back is definitely toward her, although there is that pesky green glow that seems to be surrounding him.

Pesky green glow? She was going to make it happen. Determination moves mountains, after all.


Her blade sings, causing a bit of spark and a barely visible crack in the shield, which actually surprises Veruca. This.. this was new.

"Goddamn it.." She hisses out, stabbing at his back repeatedly, intending to break that outer shield like a membrane that protects her prize. And for a moment, she looks rather silly doing it.

Hal Jordan slowly turns around, because he could swear, absolutely swear, that the girl he just rescued tried to stab him in the lower lumbar region. Kidney, spleen, lower spine, possibly the bladder region. Y'know, the rear nethers. Even with his mask, the expression on his face is a mingling of perplexed and irritated as he finally turns around to face her.

"Don't meant to interrupt - I can see you're very busy. But what the HELL was that?!?!?" he says, his hands going to his hips. He definitely keeps his shield up, reinforcing it with will. Maybe this girl's just a nut. It is Gotham after all, he's probably lucky she isn't some sort of evil mime.

She wasn't going to get anywhere like this. She didn't want to have to exert herself, but this was unavoidable. "God.." She mutters, blade twirling like a fan which was soon attached towards the sheath upon her hip.

There was an all too innocent smile that crosses her features, her head tilting slightly towards the side as those icy blues feast upon his white. "Oh! I am /so/ sorry. I thought that you were one of them and here to.."

She couldn't do it anymore. She didn't feel like pretending.

"Oh fuck it. Basically, I knew those assholes were going to attack. And I knew that eventually? Someone was going to come running. And it's you're unlucky day."

Hands gone to her hips now, lifting upon the tips of her toes as she lowers herself again. "And I'm so sorry, sugar. For what I'm about to do to you."

The power lies within her legs, after all. She could probably kick a car down the street or lop off the worlds strongest man (or, the worlds strongest man who has strong tendons.. or whatever), for without warning? She leaps into the air at a slight, using her hips to turn, her foot striking out with powerful aim to try to kick through that shield and towards his jaw.

Hal Jordan makes it so that the surface of his forcefield flows like a strong river, so the woman at least doesn't snap her leg or something kicking at his forcefield. It kind of hooks Veruca and flings her over her head, presumptively where she'll land on her feet all acrobatically and catlike. Seriously - who was training all these people? Why wasn't America better at gymnastics n the Olympics if we have this many good athletes?

"The other guys, I can see. Obvious scumbags, definitely not up on third-wave feminist literature. Smell like swamp farts. But me? Little old me? Handsome, heroic me? Cosmically powerful, could throw you to the moon with a flick of my finger me? Why would you attack Kitten? Kitten is so cute." he says, holding out his hand to form a kitten out of green energy, the tiny thing mewling and making pawing motions at the air.

So the shield held a bit of buoyancy, that was something she didn't really expect. The kick lands.. and bounces back, sending her failing sideways, but she was smart enough.. like a cat, to land upon both feet with a dancer like twirl. She balances upon her heel like the edge of a knife, her hands outstretched to keep herself from falling and.. stomping her foot into the ground as she lets out a little sigh.

"Fuckin' a.." She mutters to herself, both blades taken from their sheaths as she begins to pace. And he begins to monologue and show a kitten by projection.

"You.. you gotta be kidding me right now." She stops in her place, staring down Green Lantern as if he had just passed gas. "You're supposed to be a hero? And you're making.. kittens? That just pisses me right off."
The green kitten leaps off of Hal's palm and swells, bloating and stretching until it becomes a massive tiger, letting out a roar and circling around its master. There's a blinding flash of emerald light and Hal's Green Lantern uniform is fully in place now, his jacket and jeans made invisible.

"I made a kitten because it's Christmas time and I thought we could play nice. But if you want to be nasty…" he says.

And the tiger starts to duplicate, one after another, after another, forming a circle around the knife-armed woman.

"I'm afraid you brought a knife to an infinite power of imagination fight."

Veruca knows when she's been outclassed and outmatched, a direct confrontation would possibly lead her into death or worse.. jail. Where you can't pick your own clothes or style your hair into colors that you'd like. Where you couldn't eat the finest of foods and would be stuck drinking grape kool-aid with a lax in sugar. Seeing the multiples of the beast she slowly turns as they begin to mulitply, her jaw tensing slightly as both blades soon draw from their sheath and twirled, she was going to be at the ready.

"So, you're one of those types.." She mutters, her body slowly crouching as she surveys her surroundings. Those types that have way too much power, even power that /she/ couldn't handle all on her own. But to call in backup? Needless. And with no reflections about, she couldn't match tiger with tiger.

So, play it smart. Flee! All she needed was an opening. Like chess pieces on a board.

Of course, it is Gotham in winter. There may not be a lot of mirrors about, but there is a lot of ice. Some of it dirty, but you'd be surprised…and, of course, there are the shards of mirror on the rear view of the motorcycle Hal rode in here on, still just sitting in the middle of the road.

"What type? I mean, are you, like, mad 'cause I don't wanna get all kung-fu fightey with you? I guess Gotham is full of those types, bats and cats and voles and whatever sort of animal people who like to catch people with their fists. Me? I'm perfectly content to rely on my immense superhuman might. It's completely unfair, absolutely cheating and I friggin' love it," he grins, waggling his eyebrows.

"C'mon. Like you wouldn't?"

"I'm mad, because you just won't die."

She pauses, then adds. "And for the record, I'm really mad that you have all that power and you're so fucking /goofy/." Cause really! Kittens! "And you talk too much." With those words, she was done. And yes, for the record, she would love it. For now though?

That crouch was soon turned into a leap, backflipping upon the car, even though the tigers were still within easy swiping reach. But she could run.. and that's what she does.

"Hey! That's that bi-.." One of the goons shout out and points, which soon devolve into screams as Veruca passes by. The hand that was extended returns to his chest with a bloody stump, all the while the woman shakes off her long blade and begins to laugh.

Each car was pounced upon and nearly scaled, dents marking her path.
Hal Jordan shoots out a grasping line of energy to the goon, binding up a tourniquet around those stumps and keeping the bleeding under control so he wouldn't bleed out.

Hal starts to rise into the air, hovering as the tigers start to pursue Veruca, leaping over cars, low growls echoing from them. He's toying with her more than he should, obviously, given that she just stumped some poor scumbag, but, well, Hal just likes toying with people. He's that kind of guy, even if he is a hero. Overconfident, cocky, kind of a dick. He means well, honestly, he does, but he probably should've wrapped her up and put her in a bubble by now. This crap would be making Batman pull his pointy ears out.

"I'm not goofy. I'm whimsical. Chicks love my whimsy. I'm going to guess you're one of those tough type chicks though who smokes clove cigarettes and writes mean poetry about her Daddy in her journal, though, so you probably ain't the kitten type."

"Soft!" Veruca calls out from behind her, "Chicks do not love soft!"

The tigers were catching up fast, no matter how quickly she could run, she was soon about to be over taken by this big, gleaming green beasts. But she was in luck; a SUV, Cadillac with a back end that was as large as she could hope for. She doesn't close her eyes for this, she has to be quick.. her power soon channeling itself to create a mirror like portal.

That's when she stops, turning upon her heels to look up towards the man in green, a wide smile upon her face as she gives him a brief, no nonsense salute. "Be seeing you soon." She quips out, then takes a leap backwards.. curling herself into a ball as she sinks into the back window of the cadillac, which soon shatters into a million pieces once she disappears.

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