The choice for you is the view to a kill
Who: Diego Armando and a special guest star
When: November 3rd, a little before noon
Where: The courthouse and the surrounding sketchy alleys
Summary: A little incident distracts Diego from attending the preliminary hearing of his suit against AGI. (Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na...)
Warnings: Violence and blood, language... ( Read more... )
When: November 3rd, a little before noon
Where: The courthouse and the surrounding sketchy alleys
Summary: A little incident distracts Diego from attending the preliminary hearing of his suit against AGI. (Na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na na...)
Warnings: Violence and blood, language... ( Read more... )
Making very sure that he isn't watched. Making extremely sure that he isn't seen to be following the man. Even though there's a chance that Armando being followed will scare off the AGI assassins, Floyd isn't going to risk it.
Fourteen cups of coffee. Floyd takes a comfortable seat across the cafe Armando is in, yanking off his baseball cap and holding it in front of him, pulling his facial expression into something utterly pathetic. He's hunched over, shifting from foot to foot, eyes darting everywhere and shaking the cap every once in the while. Ever the easily-ignored, ever-obtrusive beggar.
He sees the balding man the moment he crosses the road while Armando is standing. Floyd hisses out a breath from between his teeth - completely silent - as he watches the man follows Armando up the steps of the courthouse. So far, so good. He's a little too close to Armando- there, just by the bin, pressing against him. God, what an amateur.
A flash of metal- a gun. Of course it has to be a gun. Floyd yawned. He had been ambling down the road for a while now, and he ambles faster- without seeming to hurry at all, all the while sticking a little finger into his ear and digging it around, as if looking for gold. He moves in front of Armando, but opposite the bin.
Smiles a little, and shoves the baseball cap into Armando's face. The assassin's face, too. ]
'ey, 'ey, guvs, you be sparing a couple'a notes fer an old man? [ He laughs a little, and shakes the cap more. ] I got this old scar in service fer this island, ya know...
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He was smart enough to wear a convincing disguise. This was planned. This was targeted at some high-profile figure. That's the only reason his disguise would be so specific. Diego mentally scoffs at the idea that the target could be so specific as himself, but even he knows that's most likely the case. The gunman looks composed enough, but the hand on his back is trembling, slightly. He's no amateur, but even he's got nerves about abducting a prosecutor in broad daylight.
He takes care to speak low and under his breath. This isn't the first time he's dealt with criminals. You could almost say he's got a knack for it.]
Why are you doing this? This is suicide. Everyone can see you-
[And he stops as the gun barrel jams into his side.]
Shut up. Keep walking. If anybody so much as looks funny at you, you're dead.
[Diego grits his teeth, and the next thing he knows some creepy homeless guy is in their faces. His eyes widen under the visor as he feels the gunman go completely rigid, tightening his fingers around the back of Diego's coat.
The gunman is caught by surprise and seems not to know what to do for a moment, and Diego quickly weighs his options before deciding to try something that might be his ticket out.]
Morning, soldier. Let me get you some lunch.
[He slowly, slowly reaches into his pocket, drawing out a few bills with his fingers. His intention is to scare the gunman, make him too nervous to continue-- a witness looking this closely at them might frighten him off. Of course, he could always decide to shoot, but then he'll have to kill the homeless man too, and they're still standing right in public view of the courthouse steps.
The gunman watches closely as Diego holds out three bills, then replies with all the charisma of a television reporter.]
Generous too, Mr. Armando. A true pillar for our community.
[Oh, great. He was an actor too.]
Do you mind if we step off to the side somewhere, prosecutor? I have a few questions for you and I know you'll be needing to get to court...
[And the gun presses into his side again, hard enough to bruise, letting him know exactly what will happen if he refuses.
Diego grits his teeth and nods. He can't push it too much.] Have a good day.
[And the gunman ushers him to the side to step around the beggar, walking as hurriedly as he can without actually running.]
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He should've worn glasses. Made it easier to take a picture of the assailant. But that's not the priority right now. No, it is- he cracks a larger grin. ]
Ya sure are generous, guv. [ And the smile grows a little darker as he steps to the side, ostensibly to let the pair pass. It's a warning, to Armando. Floyd hopes he notices, because if he doesn't move, it'll make his job even more difficult. Not impossible - never impossible - but difficult.
Armando is going to be punched in the teeth if they both survive this. Floyd steps off the pavement, deliberately stepping wrong, then falling forward. At the same time, he reaches out and grabs onto the assassin's arm, pulling it- and the gun- down, all the way down. The hat is thrown into the man's face, and he shoves the elbow into the soft part of the stomach.
Not a trained man, this one. An amateur one; one with real guts, but not a soldier. That makes things a little more complicated. Soldiers and professionals are predictable. Amateurs... Not so much so.
The assassin swears up, and Floyd can hear the sound of flesh against the barrel of the gun. Good trigger discipline. He hisses out and turns, still half-falling, balancing on his heels alone, and slams the convenient elbow straight into the assassin's mouth. At the same time, his other hand punches the throat. ]
Sorry 'bout dat, I'm real clumsy...
[ They're attracting attention, and Floyd is grinning, more than a little maniacally. It's more a grimace than a smile, really.
God, he wishes Armando has the guts to run by now. ]
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And that's about when the beggar trips, stumbling into the gunman clumsily-- or not? It's a bit of a mess and all Diego can really hear is the thump of bodies and the assassin cursing, but feels the hand and the gun drop away from his body. He doesn't need any other incentive to move his ass. He breaks away and runs.
He half-turns to look over his shoulder as he moves back towards the courthouse, making sure the gunman is still preoccupied-- yeah, ouch, with a fist in his throat-- and mentally reminds himself to take that beggar to lunch later. He's rushing towards the courthouse steps, towards the safety of the security guards inside the foyer, but before he can rush up the third step somebody steps in front of him.]
Excuse me--
[Somebody has stepped in front of him quite deliberately. A second gunman, in sunglasses, and he's much less sneaky about it-- he slams into Diego with his chest, throwing him off balance long enough to get an arm around his neck and point his gun straight at his temple. It seems subtlety was Plan A.
The thug tightens his arm around Diego's throat, wrestling him back down the steps and dragging him backwards towards the alley. This guy's not an amateur. He's got the strength and the brazen nature of a hardened criminal.
It takes a moment, but people have noticed the commotion now. Somebody screams. The gunman cocks the revolver and yells loudly.]
One step closer to me and he dies! [He presses the barrel of the gun against the side of the prosecutor's head, alongside his visor.] Move it, Armando.
[Diego complies, because he knows this type of man-- he'd splatter his brains all over the asphalt whether or not there was a crowd watching.]
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One down, one more to go. Floyd looks at the gun. Fingerprints. Now that's just fantastic; he pockets it first to be wiped clean later, turning to look at the courthouse. Armando is being dragged down the steps, and Floyd picks up his baseball hat and jams it on his head. By this time, he is attracting a lot of attention, and he needs the hat to make sure no one gets a close look on his face. No closer look than the scar anyway.
Then, once the hat is properly on his head, Floyd sprints. Damn the warning because if he lets the man escape into the alley, he's going to shoot Armando anyway, and that's not going to happen. So Floyd sprints all the way towards the second assassin, keeping himself wide in the open. The man sees him - like he should, because this one's a damn professional, and professionals like these shoot first and figure out escape later - pulls his gun away from Armando and start aiming at him. ]
Out of the way, ya rich bastards!
[ He doesn't really need to shout that, not really. The screams are doing that well enough, after the gunman's pronouncement. Floyd has to thank him for that, really, even as he ducks behind another trash bin. Good thing about the better parts of the town. He grimaces at the feel of the impacts against the metal of the container, vibrating against his hand. Then he throws himself away from it- to the right, further from the courthouse and yet nearer to the alley on the other side.
Come on. Be predictable and move to the other alley. ]
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He watches the beggar sprint towards them and duck behind a trash can just as the sound of gunfire makes his ears ring, makes him nearly jump. Even he can't be zen about a gun going off two feet from his head.
This gunman is a professional but predictable as hoped-- he steers Diego towards the other alley. There's a small convenience store here, and the alleyway loops back around the building a ways.
The gunman is shouting now, heedless of the attention he attracts as he screams at the interfering beggar.]
Stay away! One more step and I'll blow his head off!
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The alley with its shadows. Floyd backs away until his back hits the wall, and closes his eyes- and fades away, packed away in that mind of his. He doesn't need to pretend anymore. In fact, pretending is a bad idea, given what he's going to do. There's a part of him that thinks that he shouldn't be using his powers, shouldn't be dependent on them, but this is Armando's life at stake, and Batman uses all of his available resources.
Including this. He steps back, melding into the shadows that cover the walls- and moves. Just in time too, because he appears at the end of the alleyway just as the gunman steers himself and Armando into the alleyway. Batman studies him coldly and carefully for a long moment before he moves, literally tackling the man onto the ground and making a grab for his gun.
He has hold of a wrist, and he tries to slam it down onto the floor even as he pins the man and makes sure that he doesn't move--
A gunshot rings out. ]
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The gunman is clearly relieved.] Fuckin' bum. Better thank him you've still got your brains in.
[Diego is distracted, however, by the shadow that appears in the alley behind them. His jaw drops-- you've got to be kidding-- and the next moment is a blur as the gunman is tackled and he's thrown off to the side.
He hits the alley floor on his knees, nearly falling on his face. The struggle is going on behind him, but he's too stunned to pay attention to it at the moment, a rush of adrenaline numbing the pain of landing as well as the great idea that he should probably run.
The gunman curses and struggles with his attacker, fighting to hold onto the gun. He wrestles his arm to the side and either intentionally or not, the gun points at Diego. Intentionally or not, his finger hits the trigger.
The shot fires, there is a loud CLANG- and Diego yells out as he jolts backwards, then collapses to the alley floor in a heap.]
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When he speaks, it is with Batman's voice. ]
Don't try that again.
[ The assassin's eyes widen, and Batman punches him again- and in the brief interval of time in between punches, he snatches the gun away from his hand, and does to him the same that he had to the first assassin. A solid hit with the metal of the revolver, hard enough to knock him unconscious and perhaps leaving behind a few concussions.
When that's taken care of, he drops the gun, using the assassin's shirt to wipe it clean. Then the gun still on his hip- the first assassin's gun- cleaned unceremoniously and dropped on top of the other. A pair of guns; a pair of gunmen; a pair of idiots.
He knows that Armando isn't dead. That's why he's making him wait. This is the third idiot of the whole debacle. ]
Adequate safety, Armando. [ And Batman is gripping a side of the visor and starting to try to pull it off. ]
I warned you.
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He lay there in pain, listening to the struggle and feeling the bodies hit the pavement nearby him as he struggled back to his senses, swearing loudly. He could feel hot blood pooling over his eyes, dripping down his face beneath the visor.
By the time Batman attends to him, he's hissing through his teeth, and reaches up to grab at the hand trying to pull the visor away.]
Don't-- it's-- in my face.
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[ A little tired and very frustrated. He hisses quietly at the feel of the too-hot metal, and drags out a ragged handkerchief and wraps his fingers inside the thing. Then, he reaches out and presses around the metal, dipping into the machinery- Armando is wearing his original rather than the one that Bruce Wayne had made. He doesn't suppose the man decides to bring the extras around.
(He's a little glad that the man is functionally blind right now. It makes things a lot easier if he reminds unrecognizable.)
At the same time, he's whipping out Armando's NV from his pocket, preparing to send a text message to Re-l and to Daedalus Yumeno to tell them what had happened. He knows that someone has already informed the police - gunshots in the rich sectors tend to do that. ]
Stand up. I'll bring you to Skye.
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[He lets out another breath, shaky, reaching for the wall of the alley to help him stand up. His hands are covered with blood and he looks pretty drastic-- streams of blood leaking out from under the ruined visor and down his face, giving the dramatic impression of tear streams. It's in his eyes too, and he's clenched them shut, for once a little relieved that he can't see how horrific he likely appears.]
Mr. Concerned Citizen, I presume?
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[ Well, the ambulance is fast enough to reach. It's only half a Sector away right now, and Batman reaches out and grabs Armando by the arm, swinging it over his shoulder. The man is light- light enough that Batman considers his options for a long moment. He has a head wound that's bleeding profusely, and there's a chance that the bullets - or the shrapnel from the visor - has dug themselves into his eyes.
Speed is an issue. He drops the NV back into Armando's pockets. Those two can be informed later. ]
Hold on. [ Then he's swinging Armando into his arms, bridal-style, a hand supporting his back and neck, and striding out of the alleyway just in time to see the ambulance swerving around the corner. ]
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Then he's swept up into his savior's arms, princess-style.]
Hey, hey. I didn't get shot in the legs.
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[ Flatly. Batman waits on the side of the road, and the blood all over Armando's face becomes a flag for the ambulance. The baseball cap is still on his head, hiding him from the paramedics' views. He hisses out a breath as he lays Armando onto the stretcher- and out of the corner of his eyes, he can see the first gunman start to get up.
Oh hell no. Batman retreats a little, and Floyd speaks- ]
Look! That bastard who shot the blind guy's trying to run away! [ And he's backing up, turning, sprinting again- ] The other one's in the alleyway!
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[But his yells go unheeded as one of the EMTs forces him to lay back, to keep more blood from running down his face. And all of the sudden he's hearing that beggar's voice again, footsteps running away, and with a sudden surge of confusion, he gets the feeling that there was much more to this rescue than it seems.
Or maybe he's just got bats in the belfry?]
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