Post by Cassandra Cain on Aug 18, 2008 21:36:05 GMT -5
They wore masks.
Not the typical, black masks of men trying to hide in the shadows but garish, white clown masks with frozen laughter on their pale faces. It was baffling to the assassin who believed being invisible was the best method.
Cassandra might be new to this Gotham City but she was no fool - she had heard of the Joker and his growing mob of men and women mad enough to follow his destructive path but she had never stumbled across any of them until tonight. Curiously had led her to tail them down to the docks.
Right now, these 5 were unloading bags from a truck riddled with bullet holes, carrying them into a warehouse, where from the sounds of it, more men milled around. She sucked in a soft breath through the black scarf that she had tied around the lower half of her face as her hoodie served to hide her hair, carefully stretching one leg out from the crouch she'd been in for the past half hour, allowing the blood to flow more freely. The night air was cool but smelled strongly of sewage from the lapping water that lay past the docks, and she found herself lulled by the sound, despite the smell.
They were nearly finished with their job and she decided she couldn't let them rejoin their group inside. Without pausing, Cassandra emerged from her spot behind a pile of old crates, sliding the tonfas (basically, police batons) from her loose sleeves. It felt odd not to carry a blade these days... so she opted for blunt trauma instead. The first man didn't see her coming and made no sound when she delivered a swift crack to the back of his skull (hoping she had checked her strength enough not to kill him) and he collapsed into a heap on the slick ground. The second emitted a soft grunt as the butt of her tonfa found his gut, pushing all the air out of his lungs.
The reaction of the other three was too slow, her eyes seeing the nuances that escaped many others. A semi-automatic was swept from the third man's hand, breaking most bones, and she twirled like a dancer, catching his face with her elbow. Pushing off with powerful grace, she hit the fourth square in the chest with one foot, using him as a spring board to land on the final goon who was fleeing up the stairs.
Lightly stepping off the man's back, she grimaced. One had managed to yell for help, alerting the others inside.
Sloppy work, she thought in annoyance. But without a blade to silence these men forever, it was a risk to take. Crouched low, tucking the tonfas away in her belt, she silently shimmied up a rusting pipe, as the other men exploded out of the building.
Testing a grimy window, Cassandra let herself into the warehouse, dropping down onto a rickety cat-walk and pausing momentarily to check that no-one was up there with her. From her guess, up this high, they deemed it too dangerous to walk on.
Eyes flitting down into the dim warehouse, she calculated roughly how many were here, and felt the tightening in her chest of blowing into a situation she had not planned.
Should have brought some darts. Been more prepared.
Guns did not frighten Cassandra. People tended to fire blindly, and the sound covered her tracks. But close quarter fighting against many always could lead to injury and she didn't feel like patching up knife wounds tonight.
Suddenly someone came into view, and she leaned forward in interest. It was him, the one the television talked about. Her adrenaline began to kick in, and her fingers itched for a blade, instead slipping behind her to grasp the smooth tonfas and pull them out.
This would be a good opportunity to help this city, the one her very master tried to destroy. Granted, the dark trained part of her agreed with the method, Cassandra sought to extinguish this way of thinking...
Starting with him...
-tag Joker-
Not the typical, black masks of men trying to hide in the shadows but garish, white clown masks with frozen laughter on their pale faces. It was baffling to the assassin who believed being invisible was the best method.
Cassandra might be new to this Gotham City but she was no fool - she had heard of the Joker and his growing mob of men and women mad enough to follow his destructive path but she had never stumbled across any of them until tonight. Curiously had led her to tail them down to the docks.
Right now, these 5 were unloading bags from a truck riddled with bullet holes, carrying them into a warehouse, where from the sounds of it, more men milled around. She sucked in a soft breath through the black scarf that she had tied around the lower half of her face as her hoodie served to hide her hair, carefully stretching one leg out from the crouch she'd been in for the past half hour, allowing the blood to flow more freely. The night air was cool but smelled strongly of sewage from the lapping water that lay past the docks, and she found herself lulled by the sound, despite the smell.
They were nearly finished with their job and she decided she couldn't let them rejoin their group inside. Without pausing, Cassandra emerged from her spot behind a pile of old crates, sliding the tonfas (basically, police batons) from her loose sleeves. It felt odd not to carry a blade these days... so she opted for blunt trauma instead. The first man didn't see her coming and made no sound when she delivered a swift crack to the back of his skull (hoping she had checked her strength enough not to kill him) and he collapsed into a heap on the slick ground. The second emitted a soft grunt as the butt of her tonfa found his gut, pushing all the air out of his lungs.
The reaction of the other three was too slow, her eyes seeing the nuances that escaped many others. A semi-automatic was swept from the third man's hand, breaking most bones, and she twirled like a dancer, catching his face with her elbow. Pushing off with powerful grace, she hit the fourth square in the chest with one foot, using him as a spring board to land on the final goon who was fleeing up the stairs.
Lightly stepping off the man's back, she grimaced. One had managed to yell for help, alerting the others inside.
Sloppy work, she thought in annoyance. But without a blade to silence these men forever, it was a risk to take. Crouched low, tucking the tonfas away in her belt, she silently shimmied up a rusting pipe, as the other men exploded out of the building.
Testing a grimy window, Cassandra let herself into the warehouse, dropping down onto a rickety cat-walk and pausing momentarily to check that no-one was up there with her. From her guess, up this high, they deemed it too dangerous to walk on.
Eyes flitting down into the dim warehouse, she calculated roughly how many were here, and felt the tightening in her chest of blowing into a situation she had not planned.
Should have brought some darts. Been more prepared.
Guns did not frighten Cassandra. People tended to fire blindly, and the sound covered her tracks. But close quarter fighting against many always could lead to injury and she didn't feel like patching up knife wounds tonight.
Suddenly someone came into view, and she leaned forward in interest. It was him, the one the television talked about. Her adrenaline began to kick in, and her fingers itched for a blade, instead slipping behind her to grasp the smooth tonfas and pull them out.
This would be a good opportunity to help this city, the one her very master tried to destroy. Granted, the dark trained part of her agreed with the method, Cassandra sought to extinguish this way of thinking...
Starting with him...
-tag Joker-
