God of War: First Blood

February 01, 2015 : U.S Agent meets Lois Lane at the scene of a crime.

Burnley, Gotham

Burnley was once a gleaming gem that signified change and growth of industry;
the origin point for Gotham's Uptown Jazz scene back in the 1930s when it was
covered in theaters, restaurants and jazz clubs. A place people used to go to
escape and get a taste of something new and progressive.

Now Burnley and most of it's connected neighborhoods are horrible poverty
stricken slums covered in housing projects and an overshadowing sense of
dread and desparation. The Burnley of the 21st Century is comparible to
Harlem during it's worst days.

Closer towards Bay Side the separation line of Grand Avenue divides the
African American populace from the Hispanic (before the '09 quake there was
also a strong Irish population that has since relocated to south Chelsea).
This general area, with it's massive amounts of housing complexes is called
the Hill. It's a constant source of gang related violence and trouble for the
GCPD and just about anyone else.

A noteable landmark here is the small neighborhood of Toxic Acres named as
such due to the Kane Chemical Plant meltdown that made the neighborhood
uninhabitable. That facility still stands to this day but is now Ace



  • Dr. Arthur Tan's Corpse
  • Unknown villain on a bike

Mood Music:

Lois had gotten the message via a text, asking for a meeting. The informant refused to identify themselves, but said they had something big. Something that had been covered up a long time. In Gotham, of course, that could be almost anything. When she'd asked for something, anything, to prove that the guy was on the level, he'd sent her a picture:

It was a black and white picture of her father, General Sam Lane. Lois must have been a little girl by that point, her sister, Lucy, maybe not even born. He didn't look happy.

Nor did the man in the labcoat who lay at his feet in a pool of blood.

The scan had been grainy, but it was easy enough to tell it was real. The contact had told her to meet him here, in an alley near a dive bar called "Peck's". Here, some of the worst of Gotham's lowlifes lived. Cops barely came. Even the vigilante set rarely made an appearance, because the locals had long since stopped calling for help.

The rain that comes down is cold and harsh, the broken streetlight barely illuminating anything in the alley, making it an empty mouth of shadow.

She was on that picture like white on rice. Normally, when it came to things like this, she's taken to texting and sending emails to Clark to let him know that she's going to leave and where she was headed. She had it set to daily alerts, so that he wouldn't be worried, and something for them to talk about once she had gotten home. He even helped spell-check her writing of course, but none of that would happen any time soon.

For once, as she prefers it. She was on her own.

There are times she did think about writing for the Gotham Gazette, but being a private investigator had it's perks. Just last week, she found out that Mr. Carnegey cheated on his wife with the maid, but in a twist, the wife cheated on Carnegey with the maid as well.

Let's not talk about how that ended up. But Lois' rent was paid up for the entire year to keep it under wraps.

She was there at the designated spot, hat tugged upon her head, matching scarf, jacket, boots that line the bottom of her knees. She had a hand tucked within her pocket and an umbrella hung over head. Freezing rain. She had to check the traffic twice to make sure she wasn't slammed into by a sliding car.

The shadows don't seem to be letting up very much, the skittering of something rooting in the garbage. And then, deep within the alley, a light blossoms, a flaring flourescent beam. A flashlight, casting a circle onto the ground.

It slowly comes forward, forward, until it illuminates a figure laying on the ground. He's splayed out, older, hair turned to grey. He wore glasses, cracked and broken. His mouth was open in some sort of scream or shock. The front of his body was a ruin, blue dress shirt torn to pieces, riddled with bullets, as if he'd scores of bullets there. Perhaps he had.

Footsteps echo down the alley until, slowly, the figure of the U.S. Agent emerges from the shadows, his shield in his other hand as his right holds the flashlight. He's silhouetted, dark armor almost making him blend.

"We meet again, Miss Lane. It looks as though the good doctor won't be able to meet you after all."

Her heart dropped. It was the main reasons as to why she left Metropolis in the first place, and she fell back into those same habits of getting nearly innocent people killed. Her bottom lip trembles as she takes a step forward, but instead.. that light casts itself upon the ground that has her pulling her hand inside of her coat to grip the handle of her gun.

She says nothing, jaw tense, eyes narrow, feet shoulder width apart to make way for the shot that she was going to give. Yet.. that voice.. she recognizes it, but really, she can't place it. And again? She was sure that she's never seen him before.

"Meet again?" She murmurs quietly. "Who the hell are you and what did you do to the doctor?"

The gun was produced now, aimed directly towards his center mass. She wasn't going to shoot, she couldn't. But, the man doesn't know that, now does he?

The Agent doesn't flinch at the sight of the gun, "Easy, Miss Lane. We met in City Hall. My name's John Walker, the U.S. Agent. I'm the Director of Homeland Security here in Gotham." He shines the light up a bit to illuminate his face slightly, pulling back his mask to expose his features so she can get a good look.

"As for the doctor, I found him this way. Like you, I was too late. I suspect he arrived early. Nerves. Whoever did this to him anticipated as much. They knew his character well. Perhaps if I'd taken it into account, he'd still be alive." he says.

She really wasn't going to pull the trigger, and it seems as if she didn't have to. She gives him wary look as he exposes himself, her eyes soon rolling into the back of her head as a relieved sigh drops from her lips. "Oh thank god." She comments, tugging her coat open to reholster her weapon, finally taking a few steps forward as she looks down upon the fallen man with a frown.

"I don't know what's going on, Walker. I really don't." She doesn't mention the picture, that seemed to be a little bit personal. At least not yet, anyways. "We need to call this in. And.." She stops for a moment, just to look at his getup. "Uh.. and I suppose you need to leave?" He was in a certain type of outfit that she was sure that didn't want to be across the airwaves. This was just.. weird.

John Walker peers at her for a moment, "I understand you're used to working with vigilantes. It's an understandable mistake. There's no one to call in. I am a Federal Agent, with full powers and authority. That said, I have already put in the order for a forensics team. As you might imagine, in Gotham, that isn't exactly an uncommon request. I'm told it will be another hour."

"This is Dr. Arthur Tan," he says, the Asian cast to the dead man's features more obvious now in the better light. "Does that name ring a bell with you? Does his face?" he asks.

"Right.. right.." She murmurs quietly, crouching down to perform a perfect squat as she looks over the corpse. "I guess I sort of am not used to one who could actually.." She gestures towards him, but does not look. But of course, this was Gotham. She was sure that the police would come and laugh at the poor dead man for getting caught in the back of the alley. Nice place you picked, Dr. Tan. Nice place.

His name? His face.. it almost rings a bell. But she really, really couldn't place where. She didn't know what it had to do with the image that was sent to her but.. dad. Dad was related.

"It doesn't. I'm sorry." She half lied. Half. "What do /you/ know about him?"

John Walker stands ramrod straight, his military bearing always showing through. Once a Marine, always a Marine. The closest John Walker ever came to bad posture was leaning back his recliner in his apartment while he watched football. Even then, it was only a few notches.

"Biologist, specializing in metahuman and xenobiological materials. Worked for the DoD from the 1960s into the late 90s. Seemed to retire quietly enough, got his pension. Pretty much everything he did is classified."

"The one thing I have been able to learn is that he spent the last few years of his career here, in Gotham, as part of a working group. A top secret experiment being carried on at the Army's request and under it's umbrella. The group answered directly to your father, General Samuel Lane."

"The Project's working name was Operation: Man of Steel."

Lois listened to the details as if there were nothing else surrounding them. Those words growing within her head as the startling realization begins to set it. At one point in time, she remembers. Running and skinning her knee, immediately seeking out the General for him to kiss away the booboos. But, he didn't kiss them away, he told her to hold her head up high and to take the pain.

It was this man who actually comforted her. Given her a band-aid after he wiped the gravel away from her knee. She really couldn't understand his accent, but..

"Man of Steel?"

That was the name she had given to Superman. It wasn't exactly off the books or trademarked.

She stood up straight, no anger in her face, she was a blank slate, her poker face. "My father.." No. He wouldn't. But, something in her tells her that he would. "Do you have the details of this op." It wasn't a question, she demanded an answer.
The Agent shook his head, "My security clearance will get me almost anything current, but the old stuff…there are lots of skeletons that people would like to stay buried. Looks to me like somebody decided to bury Dr. Tan with them."

"Dr. Tan contacted me last week, saying he wanted to meet, but he no-showed. He was hiding out at a seedy motel. Didn't even have a suitcase. By the time I'd tracked him down, he was gone, but he'd written down your name and the time of the meet. I traced his phone here."

"A phone that no longer appears to be in evidence." he says.

Lois could only nod, really. There was only so much she could say and attest to the man and her father without showing her own distaste for her fathers shady dealings. But Dr. Tan was a nice man to her, she remembered that much. And she felt sorry of his death.

"I see." She quietly murmured, drawing herself to a stand as she takes a few steps back to lean against the wall. She shows her hand now, fingers digging into her pocket to retrieve a cigarette and lighter, soon lighting up and taking a deep drag to keep those ill thoughts at bay.

Thoughts that said something of her being a curse. Knowing her. Apparently, even writing her name would get a person killed.

"You have the phone." She says dryly. She wasn't surprised. "You're going to keep this all off the books?" Now, she was looking to him, not concerned, but hopeful. "I can call the General and.." No. That would be a bad idea.
He could be in danger as well.

Walker shakes his head, "I wouldn't suggest that," he says. He won't imply that her father could be behind part of this - he didn't want to believe it himself, having met General Lane and seen him as an honorable man. And he knew better than to speak ill of someone's father. The last one who'd spoken ill of his had found his ass whupped with an axe handle and thrown from the back of a moving pick-up truck.

John didn't take kindly to that sort of thing.

"I can make a few calls, put protection on the General. Discreet protection," he says. Discreet surveillance, too. "We have to assume that whoever took out Dr. Tan, however, is aware…"

And then he's moving, suddenly, diving into Lois and pinning her to the ground. The gunshots are barely audible, rapid-fire hisses like a spitting cobra, the reverberation of the bullets going dead against his shield, the vibranium absorbing their force harmlessly. A glimpse from the ground shows a blur passing, a drive-by shooting, the bottom of a…pink motorcycle there for a second and then gone.

"My dad isn't going to like protection. He wrote the book on being disc.." And then John is moving so blindingly fast, she didn't even have time to finish her sentence.

As he tackle-dives her into the ground, she remains deathly still, the sounds rattling through her head was enough to drive anyone mad. But.. she recognized it. Gunfire.. much like she heard when she attempted to venture into East End all cloaked.

Once the gunshots stopped, Lois tries to push John from atop of her. He was a large man, heavy. Sure that the shield possibly added to his weight but he caused her to be winded in the moment of protection. She even twists her shoulder, her hand soon lifting from their depths to touch among the back of her head, mistaking the wetness for snow but.. it was really blood. Which was soon smeared upon his shoulder as she tries to push him away.

"Are they gone?"
John Walker slowly rises up, staying on his knees with his shield out. He cocks his head and listens keenly. While he doesn't have enhanced senses, his mind processes those he does possess with absolute efficiency, letting him pick up detail and nuance others could easily miss. "Yes. Dammit, he's already three blocks away. No chance I could set up anything resembling a roadblock," he mutters.

He reaches down and grasps her forearm, starting to pull her up to her feet, only to have his shield arm quickly beneath her back and cradling her weight as he feels her weakened despite her pushing, the blood on the back of her head gleaming even in this shadow.

"You're safe. But we need to get you a medic. Looks like you earned yourself some stitches tonight, Lane."

Who was he talking to? Who was in his ear at that moment? Or.. was he speaking to himself?

She was a little dazed, and being helped up almost irritated her as much as.. there's blood on his shoulder. "You've been shot?" She questions, concern marring her features until he cradles her, no.. "Was I shot?" No… her head was beginning to hurt as the need to vomit set in, not wanting to do that to the man, she tries to push her way out of his arms, her head shaking just a little bit as she tries to breathe.

"No. No. You need to get as far away from me as possible!" Paranoia was about to set in hard core, her hand reaching out to try to keep him at bay. "You're going to get killed. Just like the others. You're g..guh.." And then she does it. The most unattractive thing she could do. She pukes right in the corner, mostly due to being concussed.

John Walker has seen it before, quickly coming down to kneel next to Lois and patting her back a bit awkwardly. Not a sensitive man by nature, is John Walker, but he's seen civilians pushed into these kinds of situations hold up a lot worse than this.

"Nobody got shot. Afraid I banged your head a little too hard trying to save your life, though. Sometimes I forget how strong I am," he says.

Once he's certain she's finished, he turns her, strong gauntleted hands guiding until she's turned and sitting her back against the wall. He reaches into his belt and draws out a small canteen, "Drink. Take it slow. Breathe. I'll call for an ambulance. They'll probably give you some stitches, and want to monitor you for a concussion. Stay with me, though, you don't want to fall asleep. Bleeding brain's no fun for sleepyheads." he says.

"Oh.. that was just me then." She knows she didn't take a bullet to the head. If she did, she possibly wouldn't be here speaking to him. And if she was speaking to him and shot in the head? She might have been experimented on as a child…


That sends her into a mild panic. Mild… one she didn't really speak about loudly. As he gives her the water after her blow back from her headknock, swallowing it all down without the need of being slow, a slight cough dropping from her lips as her hand lifts to rub hard against her eye. "No… no.." She states slightly, "Just.. wait.. wait a minute, okay?" She really couldn't understand what she was saying, she really couldn't understand what she was seeing and.. she was just so tired. And her head hurt. So.. so tired..

The rest of her memories are foggy, but U.S. Agent makes sure she's attended to. The paramedics shine lights in her eyes, they stitch her up at the emergency room. Walker stays nearby, making sure she's okay, while coordinating the forensics team to go over things.

"Look for tire tracks from a motorcycle, too, and put an APB out on a pink Kawasaki. Looked custom. No, I didn't see the driver, if I'd seen the driver, I'd have given you his fuckin' description, wouldn't I? Now move your ass," he says, swiping the call away.

"I'll drive the lady home," he says to the doctors when she's checked out.

He had to make sure she got better. And he knew he was going to have more questions when she was ready.

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