Terror!A concentrated dose of the fear toxin is rushing through the Scarecrow's body. Adrenaline is pumping like it's never done before
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Alfred Pennyworth, waiting outside the gala by the Rolls, looks up as the bystanders begin to whisper and point. "Oh, dear," he says mildly. Then he fetches out the cell phone and dials Bruce Wayne.
"Master Bruce? I know it will simply rend your heart to pieces to leave this charity ball, but I believe you are wanted outside."
Inside, Bruce answers the phone and half-turns from the people at his table. "What's that, Alfred? Wanted out--ohhhhh, that brunette I met earlier. Tell her I won't keep her long."
He closes the phone, tucks it in his inside pocket beside the well-used checkbook. "Sorry, everyone but, heh, 'duty' calls." He's all charm, but he's also moving purposefully. "Don't wait up."
As Bruce exits the building, Alfred opens the Rolls' door with a small bow. Returning to the driver's seat, he asks, "Where to, sir? I noticed a dimly lit parking garage one block over...."
After climbing in, Bruce reaches to his neck to strip off the tie and start unbuttoning the shirt. "Never been so glad for an emergency. What's going on?"
Typical. Wouldn't be Gotham without a double shot of lunacy. For the tenth time, Slade wonders if Crane is worth the hassle, then again reasons out that unfortunately he probably is.
A deep breath, to test his mask's filters - check - and he pulls out the wirepoon rifle and fires. Time to go to work.
Ralph has managed to find the keys to the cells, and has done that much anyway. Now the problems begin. Lots of them. He could stop the Scarecrow. At this point, that's child's play. He could get the officer and her kid to safety, also, no problem. He could make sure the flaming dirigible, with its clouds of fear gas and stockpile of other chemicals, in all likelihood, doesn't hit anything. More difficult, but doable. He could help with an evacuation - these people may be assassins, but that doesn't mean they need to die.
He can probably do any of these things, maybe two of them. But he can't be everywhere at once. And he can't call for help, because the first thing the villains did was remove his communicator. Hopefully someone in the cape & cowl crowd noticed.
Upon releasing the prisoners, he tests just how hard this will be. "What do you see?" he asks, trying to ascertain how lucid they might be.
Detective Projcnow blinks, trying to focus. "It's--it's--he's got a gun--" She shakes her head. "No. Scythe." The sweat is pouring off her, but she tries to stand. "Civilians--must--"
Ralph frowns and shakes his head. Not going to work. "He has a scythe, and there's a lot of armed men out there. In your current state, you'll get both of you hurt out there... look, we have some trouble... I'm going to try and deal with it. Until then, get under cover here, hide... until your head is clear. I'll be back. Don't come out unless you recognize the person for absolutely certain... me, Batman, Superman... just relax, clear your head, and stay safe." he insists, in as soothing a tone as possible, as he heads for the door to figure out where one parks a dirigible in this city.
She wipes her eyes clear. "No. I'm--I'm fine. My son--" She looks at the young man strapped to the table. "I'll take care of him." Her shoulders straighten as she stands, looking more steady on her feet as Ralph exits. "Duty calls."
Ralph hopes the cop just frees her son and does as he asked. He's going to be hard pressed to do much as it is, and having to hunt them down to try and save them from a crash would only make things harder. The Ductile Detective assesses the situation, studying the controls, and determining they're about beyond hope. He stretches one arm out, using the controls for their remaining engine to try and start turning it towards the harbor, having a sinking feeling this is not going to help for long.
In the sky, a silhoutte appears. To some, the shape is that of hope. To many, the shape is that of fear. Whatever the emotion engendered, the shape is the shadow of the Bat.
Cape spread to its fullest for gliding, the Dark Knight swoops onto the top of the dirigible and lands in a crouch, pausing to look around, get his bearings.
Comments 24
"Master Bruce? I know it will simply rend your heart to pieces to leave this charity ball, but I believe you are wanted outside."
Reply
He closes the phone, tucks it in his inside pocket beside the well-used checkbook. "Sorry, everyone but, heh, 'duty' calls." He's all charm, but he's also moving purposefully. "Don't wait up."
Reply
Reply
Reply
A deep breath, to test his mask's filters - check - and he pulls out the wirepoon rifle and fires. Time to go to work.
Reply
He could stop the Scarecrow. At this point, that's child's play.
He could get the officer and her kid to safety, also, no problem.
He could make sure the flaming dirigible, with its clouds of fear gas and stockpile of other chemicals, in all likelihood, doesn't hit anything. More difficult, but doable.
He could help with an evacuation - these people may be assassins, but that doesn't mean they need to die.
He can probably do any of these things, maybe two of them. But he can't be everywhere at once. And he can't call for help, because the first thing the villains did was remove his communicator. Hopefully someone in the cape & cowl crowd noticed.
Upon releasing the prisoners, he tests just how hard this will be. "What do you see?" he asks, trying to ascertain how lucid they might be.
Reply
Reply
Reply
Reply
The Ductile Detective assesses the situation, studying the controls, and determining they're about beyond hope. He stretches one arm out, using the controls for their remaining engine to try and start turning it towards the harbor, having a sinking feeling this is not going to help for long.
Reply
Cape spread to its fullest for gliding, the Dark Knight swoops onto the top of the dirigible and lands in a crouch, pausing to look around, get his bearings.
And spot the Scarecrow.
Reply
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