Iceberg Lounge Shakedown: Bird Cage

March 29th, 2015: The siege of the Iceberg Lounge is undertaken. The Penguin faces off against the Bat-Clan, Two-Face and the Catwoman.

Iceberg Lounge, Diamond District, Gotham

The Penguin's Iceberg Lounge and Casino



  • The Penguin
  • Penguin's Gang (Ruben, Bosworth, Lark, Fishnet, Gaggy, Alliatto, etc)
  • In-Betweeners (Harvey's gang)
  • Alley Cats (Catwoman's gang)

Mood Music:

The posh and trendy two-story Iceberg Lounge is as always full of activity. Dancers, singers, musicians from the outside it looks like an expected club of its caliber should. A large ice-sculpture stylized sign that reads Iceberg Lounge and in smaller lettering the word casino is visible. A new feature after the '09 earthquake.

Two bouncers stand in front of the club itself, both men in suits but on their breast pocket is a kerchief with a birds head logo on it. This not only says they work for the Penguin but they're also part of his criminal element, his gang. A very familiar logo for anyone with even a minor association with the Bird of Banditry and his misdeeds.

Batman is not present but his voice is, "I'm at Nightbird Security firm. Oracle, where is your team?"

The Dark Knight had given a simple task to Oracle, Batgirl and the Fox, rattle the Penguin's cage. Determine where the evidence allegedly instigating the SRD and Hugo Strange specifically in criminal activities is held. Information that was leaked and about to be sold on the black market information that was mysteriously pulled just before anyone was able to put a bid on it or make purchase.

Meanwhile the Bat will be investigating the Penguin's security operation. How they intend to infiltrate the Iceberg Lounge is largely in their hands and the newbie Bluebird, so eager in her desire to join the 'crime-fighting community' has been assigned to tag-a-long for more assessment. Batman wants to see how she operates with a team.

It is very dark right now; more so than the usual Gotham darkness and the wind is present though the snow that has been plaguing the city has eased up. It's almost nice if there was not an odd out of place stifling humidity. Almost as though the heavens are about to burst forth and pour upon the dark city and it's night prowling denizens.

The Fox peers at the lounge through his seeing crystal, looking for signs of the arcane. Batman's brief had not led him to believe he would see any but the druid hates surprises and that would definitely be a bad one. He is, as usual, a small medieval arsenal though it's really kind of surprising how well the weapons he carries go together. At present he's forgone the usual glowing animal pack because… well, glowing animals. He can call them later if need be. "No sign of the others yet, Oracle." Of course, he's only aware of Batgirl and she does tend to get the drop on him. He counts himself fortunate she's never decided to just take him out.

"Sweeeeet! Got a mission! Got a mission!" Bluebird was dancing on the street, harem-esque mask donned, a far cry from the ski-mask that she wore weeks prior. Her arm was out of the sling that she wore, moving wildly just to test the strain that the muscles would give when in pain to break through, give them a work out to be used to such a fight and keep moving.

Dem Gainz.

Bluetooth plugged into her ear, phone ready and waiting to be rung by Johnny 5, Bluebird took position near the back of the building behind a dumpster, the drone she had stolen just the nights prior allowing her a birds eye view of the club..

How many birds can say that they have a drone following you to work, home, school… None, that's who!

"So guys. I didn't know you all knew Creepy McDouchebag. I know that ominous monotone from everywhere. Hi Drama!" She'd wave at nothing in particular, but she keeps her tone low as she leans against the brick mason building, one boot kicked up to press against the wall, a larger, much better gun hung at the hip by way of strap at her shoulder whilst the others remain in appropriate places and easier to reach.

In other words, she was ready. For the way she tugs upon the gloves and a slight wince from bruised knuckles drew out a strain from leathers and a slight click of her teeth. Her hand drops down into her pocket to withdraw a vicodin, bottle of water snagged from her hip which was popped and swigged and tossed into the dumpster that she stood by. Good thing plastic is inevitably the quieter trash once thrown.

Sitting in front of the screens in the Clocktower, Oracle watches the Avatars of her team as they move into position. "Thank you Fox. The others will be with you presently."

Ringing Bluebirds phone, Oracle waits for the young woman to answer. When she does, she'll get the trademark response "This is Oracle."

"Two in position, Batman. Waiting for the third to present, they'll be there presently." Batgirl will make herself known, in the fullness of time.

Batgirl has made her way onto the roof of the second story building. Maybe it's a Bat thing, that love of heights. She's been going over the building to find the best way in. Well, best for her. Avoiding the exterior alarms, and seeing where she wants to disable them to head deeper within. She can hear people over the Coms, but as is usual for her, she doesn't reply herself. Not when she doesn't have anything of substance to say.

At the moment the little bat is peering over the front entrance, looking down at the tops of the heads of those two beefy guards… birds.

By means of 'scrying' the Fox is able to see the inside of the club, the lounge itself is expansive, a large ice theme pool that hosts actual pet seals and penguins, a dining area covered tables and dancing poles, a ship-themed dance floor, a tuxedo wearing band is at work entertaining the small yet growing crowd. Nothing out of the ordinary to be seen in that general area, it's a club and lounge after all.

Separate the central area (lounge, dance floor, band, slot machines, craps tables, dining floor) is a private area, lifted above the main bar where the short beak-nosed visage of the Penguin can be seen, umbrella across his lap and laughing. Inaudible as the vision doubtful comes with any sound or for whatever reason does not this time. About half a dozen people loiter around the crime broker, a dark haired woman with her arms folded across her chest and a glare, a tall, broad shouldered dark skinned man wearing a Whisper Gang metal mouth cover, a very short hunched over clown in a suit with sad face paint, a red bearded and mow hawked man who sits elbow to elbow with a muscular scar covered individual and lastly a heavy set dark man with fishing net bound around his head. A rather bizarre assortment.

Beyond the bouncers there are no guards to the Iceberg Lounge. No one in their right mind tries to infiltrate or cause discord at the Frosty Bird's base of operations, the Penguin's Gang is one of the most well-outfitted criminal organizations in all of Gotham. They get their hands on gear most the other gangs would have wet dreams about. They're also amazingly loyal, well-paid and usually skilled. It's not a safe place to try and throw ones weight around, not unless of course you're a part of the Bat-Family.

Oracle is aware that for a short period of time after the 09' catastrophe that Wayne Industries owned the Iceberg Lounge through a subsidiary company. During that period of time the building was mapped out and access points were installed so the place could be easily monitored by Batman himself which of course also means the rest of the Bat-clan, well, those he trusts in, like Batgirl. The young woman may already know one of these entry ways. There should be at most two or three.

Kane puts the crystal away. The druid isn't above killing his foes but it's not always necessary and let's be honest, leaving a trail of bodies attracts police attention which he doesn't need. And this is a Bat operation. Okay. Time for the crossbow and the binding bolts, then. "Oracle, Fox. I'll move in soon as someone creates an opening." He's no slouch in a fight, but he knows - because he's sparred with her- that Batgirl is better. "I… is that Bluebird I hear on the comm?" From the hydra in the sewers incident? Not, like, the organization. An actual hydra. "I've got eyes on a couple. Just say the word and we'll kick this off. Inside's busy but mostly clear of security. Though… something seems off about that." Couldn't be that easy, right?

The phone, answered with a press of a button that hung low around her neck, Bluebird smirks a little as she hears Oracle and Fox's slight surprise as well. "Johnny 5, you're alliiiive.." She murmurs, glancing towards the back door of the club, unarmed, and ripe for the picking.

No really. She's going to pick the lock if the door wasn't open already.

"Yeah. It's me. If you want me to create an opening just say the word. I need to put my latest invention to use."

And it wouldn't be pretty. Liquid taser, mobile rounds, cocked back like a shot-gun that would make anyone jealous. Even the good ol' Bats.

She moves now, her gaze lowered to the many pockets upon her belt, fiddling to and fro to look for her mechanical lock pick.

"Are we a go? Or do I have to wait for instructions. Know this is a team venture but we gotta get moving while the getting is good. At least, that's my opinion."

The drone that Harper has borrowed, yes borrowed, is appropriated by Oracle and the feed that Harper was seeing now displays on her screens. "Thank you for repairing the drone, Bluebird. And it's Oracle, not Johnny 5." her tone might be dry, except for the digital disguise. "Yes Fox, Bluebird." Oracle's peripherally aware of the Fox's tussle with a HYDRA beneath the streets of Gotham.

With everyone in position, the redhead keys in some commands, the doors and windows the team members are disarmed and unlocked "Go. You have access now."

Batgirl slips away from that front entrance as the others chatter in the background. She knows that Oracle will prefix anything she really needs to pay attention to with her name. She moves to a second story window and patiently waits for the 'go'. Then she's slipping in like a shadow. She'll meet the others on the main floor, after sweeping the upper level.

The side door opens and Bluebird finds herself presented with a squat rotund man with broad shoulders wearing a hoodie, the hoodie has that familiar stylized bird logo on it. "The fuck? Get ou.. what the hell is that?" The gun. He clearly means the gun and stealth fail for the new birdy member of the Batclan. Now, the man also has a gun and it is lifting up quickly. "Walk away little girl. Walk away and I won't say a word to anyone and you can go play cops and robbers somewhere else. There is some real bad people in here and you really don't wanna push your luck. Trust me." What a nice thug.

It would appear there is a camera on this side of the Iceberg Lounge, hidden most likely. Recent install as it was not mentioned in floor plans for the building.

Batgirl, less fortunate than Bluebird herself, monumentally so and this has everything to be accounted towards just terrible luck. The window opens without issue, the stealth employed by Cass is wraith-like, a young woman who can move as shadow. Unfortunately, birds have the keenest eyesight in the animal kingdom and she has just eased herself through the upstairs window in to the Penguin's very own Aviary. Face to beak with Batgirl is a cage of Green Cheeked Conure, three of them, behind it several more multi-colored parrots, a beautiful macaw and even a Yellow-Naped Amazon, one of the most expensive and exotic birds in the world. They're all just staring at her. The room itself is nothing but cages, cage after cage, it even sounds like above in the rafters an entire nest of more unseen birds roost. Pigeons perhaps? It's a nightmare for a person who fears birds and an even bigger red alert for someone trying to be silent and incognito.

Oracle's twice hijacked drone can see Fox moving in on the Iceberg Lounge and the incident happening on the side involving Bluebird. Activity inside of the club itself has remained undisturbed; no alarms have yet to go off. Still a chill night for the easy party happening inside the Iceberg.

"Engaging." For a guy who was never in the military, the Fox does the terse communications things really well. It might be the whole 'used to have a Circle' thing. He crushes a charm and lets the 'magic' flow over him, taking formerly undisplayed grace of movement. Which he then uses to parkour down to ground level and unleash a pair of binding bolts - the ones that strike and then wrap their victims in bands of force - at the door men. "It'd help if I knew what exactly we expected to find. Samples? Documents?" Hopefully those guards stay down but just in case, time to switch to the tonfa.

"What's the news on the others Oracle?"

The door was slid open and Bluebird was met with a short little fat guy, armed just as she. There was a mild look of surprise that crosses the face of the young women, settled by the way her eyes smiled down upon the short guy, along with a huff of breath that nearly makes her harem-esque cloth reveal the scratch marks embedded beneath a row of snakebites.

"Well crap. You got me, haus." She states, still keeping the gun within her hand, her fingers wriggling against the side as she lowers her head just so.

"I know. I know. It's just that I'm starving. And instead of getting handouts at the local shop down the street, cause we all know it's all filled with rotten food and laced with rat pellets.."

The larger gun is soon swung to the front, lifted, and fired without warning. Aiming not necessary, she was close enough. Hopefully that spray of electrified liquid would be enough to drop the fellow, for he was officially her first test subject.

"..Sorry dude, you're totally sweet and nice. I just ran out of shit to say." And if she could? She'd walk on by, but first slinging her own heavy artillery upon her shoulder with a bend to swipe the pistol from the ground.

"Guys. I'm in the backdoor. Calling dibs on all the guns!"

They show up in a line, four cars in total, coordinated and perfectly symmetrical as they take their turns at the curb. The people from the first two are non-descript, men in suits with jackets too full under the shoulders, some in leather jackets with their hair slicked back, still others bearing all the markings of gangsta style, loaded with chains and gleaming grills. Pawns and knights, strike and sacrifice alike, all expected, apparently, as they move quickly past the doorman without any attempt at being patted down, carded or checked. This is a negotiated meet and, as such, certain equalities had to be arrived. They might be showing up on Penguin's turf, but these weren't supplicants. The third car dispatches men in bisected suits, black and white side by side in silk and linen, sharp fedoras tucked down over their eyes.

The King and Queen themselves arrive in a custom Rolls-Royce, noted by its gleaming split-screen paintjob, black as sin and white as bone, the shaded windows offering nothing to the outside world. The driver, a large man, is of African descent, but splashes of vigil go leave prints of white on his skin, as if he were acid burned. Of course, he wasn't - as the man inside so inimitably demonstrates.

Samantha and Delilah, his molls, spill out first, giggling to themselves, their ditzy surface belying the deadly truth underneath them, bruises fading at the throat of the albino girl from time spent with her boss the night before. Two-Face steps out next, straightening his tie. His suit, of course, has the same dual theme but, in his case, the left side is frayed, torn, burned and ruined. The flesh on that side of his face looks raw and almost moist, as if it might weep blood at any moment. Perhaps it would. The gangster looks imperiously around the entrance and, turning, extends a hand to help his guest out. All chivalry.

"Place looks nice. Might almost forget that the owner smells like bad tuna on a sunny day. C'mon, kitten…let's give the bird our politest."

The feed from Batgirls suit shows the littlest Bats dilemma and Oracle draws a deep breath, as her keys fly over her console, attempting to disable the internal alarm systems and communications to and from the building.

The team will hear her update to the Fox, she's ignoring Bluebirds exuberance for the time being "Batgirls met some resistance Fox, update pending. Bluebirds in the backdoor and disable one of their people. Attempting to disable the internal alarms and hinder their communications." Batgirl, is left to her own devices for now, Oracle has faith in the woman to make her way out quickly. You're looking for documents, samples, even hard drives and the like that aren't connected to anything."

Eyes widening at the new arrival, the redheaded Information Goddess pales slightly "You've got incoming. Two-Face. The threat level is increased. He's not one to be trifled with."

Batgirl goes very, very still. Her head doesn't move but her eyes do, behind those smoked lenses. That's… a lotta birds. A twitch of a muscle lets her cape fall forward without the appearance of movement on her end. Once it drapes her from neck to ankles it hides the movement of her hands as she drops smoke pellets into her hands.

"Going to be… a big. Noise. I think." Batgirl's voice is flat. Almost monotone. It breaks in odd places and has a slow, focused cadence. If the little bat is lucky, the room is soundproofed so if the birds do have some sort of freak-out, they don't disturb the club below.

Then, Batgirl starts to walk, a bit slowly but quite deliberately for the door across the room with her cape flaring about her. If not for her visible feet, she'd look like a little Bat-ghost. The pellets are still in her hands, to lay down smoke and pull a ninja if the birds aren't willing to just let her be.

Each car bears each person’s own. Her's are marked, trio of claw marks beneath their eyes, and although they may look rather different from the 'dapper' and time scrolled modern day gangsters (not gangsta's) the mixture of the check-mate in progress seems to be mingling rather well. Even in the four wheeled entourage.

After Two-Face one leg extends, that stiletto’s heel of metal scraping over the pavement, laces riding high, a criss cross of x's, only meeting the o's over the knee where belts accent at the sides. Joined by its mate the woman comes out along side Dent, her hand nicely placed in his and her arm dipping to link within a serpentine embrace, claw tipped fingers dragging over the arm of his well tailored suit - only casting dimpled shadows.

Over the apex of boots netted hosiery disappears beneath the tight fitted pencil skirt-dress, split instead of in the back for ease of movement by two zippers up the front over the tops of thighs, giving glimpses to garter-ed bands. Around her waist is a wide contouring belt bearing lacework much akin to corset-ry, accentuating that pinched and pulled, snatched and tugged.

No straps to top off the dress, just the cling of custom tailored attire to rest at the heave of bosom rising higher to the spans of collar bones where those dread locks pick up, teasing over peeks of scarred flesh where the mass of hair is not tied into a knotted bun and intricate braids.

Leonne, the Madame of East End, and if you know your criminal work - Catwoman.

"I wonder how many delicacies he has out today, I do so love when he leaves the cages unlocked." Polite, right. The smile that peels over ruby lips does not promise kisses.

The Iceberg Lounge's relaxed idle-to-almost-lackadaisical atmosphere of revelry just dropped in to intensity modes. The cameras are disabled by Oracle and rerouted, this doesn't immediately alert the men and women in the security hub, nor anyone at Nightbird Security Associates (as Batman is already dealing with them on the other side of Gotham) but it won't last.

A heavy thump and the round Penguin thug who was barring Bluebirds path is on the ground convulsing before he finds himself dreaming of scones and Kim Kardashian. This opens up a room loaded with instruments and dishware boxes. Empty for the moment but voices can be heard ahead, around a corner where smoke trails out and the scent of what could be marijuana lies heavy. The Penguin doesn't apparently do surprise UAs.

Batgirl's presence amongst the birds have them chirping, cooing and following her. Also something from above *spluts* on the ground beside her. Yes, pigeons are in the rafters. It's the Yellow-Naped Amazon that seems the most interested, it's dancing along it's perch following her even as the others have decided she is just one of them or not worth their attention. A chitter, a quip sound and then an outright squawk. A loud one that borders on shrieking. It wants her attention. This squawk gets another from a Macaw. Then another from one of the Conures. The music is beginning.

The music happening on the second floor in the Penguin's aviary is nothing compared to what may just go down in front as the modern avatar of Janus and Bast find themselves ascending the stairs and the doormen begin to ward away their entourage the Fox is making his appearance in a rather courageous display as both of the Penguin henchmen are dropped. The doors to the Iceberg Lounge now unguarded. Those civilians and club-goers who were awaiting their turn in line are now beginning to scatter with panicked noises of their own.
"He has a gun!" Is even screamed, not true but fear does odd things to people.

Oracle now interfacing with the club's cameras can see the Penguin jerking upright from his slump on his sofa, an umbrella thrust in to the air and waving about. Exits are opening and the club itself is being evacuated so it can be locked down. No audio yet. The Data Queen has to settle for only a visual feed.

Gun? The Fox's gun shoots fire and lightning but that's not really the thing you have to be worried about. It's his dogs that you have to be worried about. The man in the Fox mask races crushes another charm in his hand and a trio of large glowy wolves appear. They're not interested in the civilians, nor in the door guards now wrapped around with bands of purple force (no need to do them more harm than that). They're interested in anything that might be coming out of that front door with intent to misbehave. The Fox himself runs past the corner toward where Harper is. Let the security worry about the front of the building and the big 'look at me' special effects (well, big as he can manage on short notice anyway). That's the idea. We'll see if it works.

He might be a bit more dubious about this plan if he knew Two Face and Catwoman had just arrived.

The gun that Harper picked up from the fallen penguin goon was soon dismantled in record time. There was no hint at bravado, only getting the job done and taking pieces necessary that would fit within the tool of her belt. Bullets were soon ejected and tossed behind her, empty clip stored within the back of her pocket as she hoists her own piece upright to move on. The kitchen area was stocked, a dishware box soon opened and snapped open with a thrust downward of her elbow, a simple colander snagged from the box labeled T-Fal and dumped right upon her head. There was even a wire wisk that was snatched from the grouping, another item that was stuffed and tucked away.

In other words: Take what you can, forget the rest. Cullen likes his eggs scrambled and fried.

Colander upon her head, gun lifted and ready to fire, her jaw tensing as she presses her back against the wall, her eyes closing as she takes a breath, listening among the comms that Two-Face had entered the arena that the Bat-Fam were about to infiltrate.

"Great. Fried and Chewy is going to mess things up." Yeah. Fried and Chewy. Nom on that one for a little bit.

The gun was soon lowered as she shifts her hand into another pocket (cause, pockets upon her belt, yo), a glass mirror fished out and hung along the corner just to see who, what.. and how many were there waiting for her. "Johnny 5, you there? What now? I'm trying to be a team player but this bird is going to fly in about five seconds!"

Two-Face narrows his eye, the one that can, at the wolves manifesting just as he and Catwoman make their way through the entrance. "Boss, boss, there's somethin' weird goin' on out dere," one of his In-betweeners mutters at his ear. Two-Face tilts his ruined visage at the flunky and says, "Then deal with it. We're not in the business of being scared off. We're in the business that does the scaring."

He reaches into his pocket and flips his coin, letting it spiral through the air until he catches it. The flunky watches it intently. The coin could mean a thousand things and, as anyone who works for Harvey Dent knows, one of those things could always be your death. He catches it and looks down at the clean face, "Let's just play it cool for now," he says. The man nods nervously and the In-Betweeners form a rear guard behind Harvey and his partner, guns drawn from holsters and carefully hidden in pockets for quick-draw ease.

Once into the club proper, Two-Face grins, as much as he can, his bad side caught forever in a rictus sneer. "Oswald! Aw, and you're clearin' the place out for us. Why, I didn't even have a reservation. Awful rude, I know. Tell ya what, I'll order a nice round of champagne for everybody, my treat." he says.

"Catwoman has also arrived accompanying Two Face." Oracles update goes out to the team. "They've joined the Penguin in the area above the bar, and the place is being evacuated. Penguin knows he has company." Bluebirds request gets the redheads eyes rolling, she's seen the antics with the colander and whisk through the security camera feeds "Fox is on his way to you, Bluebird. Join up with him, and do exactly as he says."

The littlest Bats plight has her watching and wincing, but she's faith in Batgirls ability there and won't interrupt.

As for audio feeds, Oracle will try to hack them, but she's used to working with visuals alone.

Batgirl's head slowly turns, watching the bird as it follows her. Sadly, she doesn't carry any Bat-crackers to pacify the things. Note to self. Carry biscuits in the future!

Batgirl dips down, fingertips snagging one of those cage-mounted water dishes that's just lying on the floor all lonely like and tosses that in a slow, high arc over the Amazon's head. She's hoping to catch it's attention, and maybe the rest of the birds as she makes her break for the door out of this bird-brained place.

Leonne watches Two-Faces lackey come and go, her own standing, a militant repose, but it is almost a modern day Wild West with hands poised over the holsters of guns (unseen). The hand not ensnared within Two-Faces rises and waves, an almost flippant gesture that is a mix between directive and a princess entourage wave. The men get it though, nodding as two pivots on heel and pause at the odd wolves, brows dipping as they exchange glances and then skirt around. The never-before-seen always are handled with a bit of care because… what the fuck??

People press outward as they seek to go in. Though, as if they /know/ the bodies part around them in their move against the current will bring in the new tide.
The chaos itself does draw an uplifting of manicured brow and the tilt of head to look up upon Harvey through the veiling of dark thickened noir lashes.

"Did one of them find your leftovers in a punch bowl? Not everyone likes their food chewed twice and softened, Ozzy baby." Smile, Selina, smile. Though as she speaks one hand flippantly gestures to their surroundings. "We just came to see how well you have done for yourself, and congratulate you." Oh but the way she ends that sentence does not seem like the period is there to stay.

Glowing animals have even a psychological impact on the hardiest of Gothamites. The Neo-Druids phantom beasts are putting on quite a display out-front of the Iceberg Lounge but it doesn't slow Two-Face or Catwoman as they enter the Iceberg Lounge. They are made of sturdier stuff. The In-Betweeners and Alley Cats will be the ones to handle the conjured pets if things truly do go awry.

Oracle will be the first to notice that once the two criminals are indoors something begins to go sideways, her video feeds start to blink out one by one, her audio never patches in and suddenly the Iceberg Lounge is a dead zone for her. It just doesn't exist anymore.

Oswald Cobblepot is standing with hands on his balcony staring down with beady, rage-filled eyes at the appearance of not one but two of his most hated adversaries (sometimes allies in their mutual villainy) the Catwoman and Two-Face, "Only getting rid of the rabble, Harvey, just the rabble. I have a special place in mind for you and the pussy cat. VIP only. Wah wah wah."

Turning to face his crew the umbrella in Penguin’s hand waves around wildly, "Lockdown, LOCK DOWN, LOCK IT ALL DOWN, now!"
What exactly does this mean? The walls of the Iceberg itself begin to tremble and shudder and gates begin to descend over the exits, heavy bolted ones. Anyone in the path of these descending blockades will be crushed. "A little renovation after I found out my club had been bought and I repurchased it. Just to be on the safe side… “The long cigarette in the man’s teeth is pinched, bouncing in a happy manner. Not at all the visage of someone who has just been ambushed. "As you can see I am doing quite well for myself. Quite well indeed."

Bluebird and Fox will both hear the snap clang of doors being pounded in to the grounds. That room the young woman was looking in to contains about five men, all of them now on their feet and alert. Fox likewise having burst in to the side door will also be enclosed in the storage space with the aspiring crime-fighter.

Upstairs the birds are now going spastic in song shrills shrieks and caws, it's not Batgirl's fault though. This is the grates slamming, the building going in to turtle mode.
Darkness hits and lights go out.
Complete black now swallows all of those gathered with this absolute blackout comes an eerie quiet, the only sounds are the settling of the new walls, the muffled cries of birds above and the Penguin's chuckling, "Weh weh weh."

To be continued…

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