(OOC) Jokermitter says, "Assume you know where the dude lives, a tenement
apartment. He's a small-time hood, as we already know. So you can go
first." 

A black figure inches its way along the weather-stained brick and plaster
facade of the Melville Apartments complex. It passes by a window, the
sounds of a Krol election campaign commercial's tinny jingle coming
through the glass. It continues its slow ascent, and pauses by one of the
window's lining the buildings upper reaches. 

The window is only dimly lit, the curtains drawn. A low voice murmurs out
from it, but only one...someone talking on the phone? It's hard to tell,
the walls are thick, and the curtains muffle the sound. 

After leaning his cowled ear to the glass, the Dark Knight hooks a small
grapnel with a cord leading to his belt onto the tiny and somewhat
unstable window's ledge. He gets a little slack on the line, and takes a
look at the frame. With silent care, he takes a small set of tools from
his yellow belt...and then, cautiously, patiently, he works on opening the
window an inch. 

The voice eases out into the muggy, smelly Gotham night, "...money. He
said he would pay when it was all over. No, I don't -know-, that's what
I'm saying. That's what I'm saying. See, I don't know when he'll be done. 
Soon! Soon...no I don't kn...I don't -know- how soon, see? I got this guy
selling some stuff for me, I know...yeah, I -know- we said this week, and
it's out there, is what I'm telling you, you'll get it! I know! Okay!" 

Two solid white eyes slant and recede into the shadows of the Batman's
cowl, and he listens. 

The voice falls silent for a moment, breathing heavily, listening. "Yeah."
it says finally. "Yeah. Okay! Is what I'm saying...okay. Okay. Peace." he
says perfunctorily. The phone clatters back onto the hook. Footsteps cross
the room. 

Batman slips one edge of the cheap curtains back, and he makes a quick
overview of Jefferson's pad. Timing his motions, he unhooks the line from
his belt, and slips with one fluid motion through the window, moving to
find a spot out of his prey's field of vision. He flattens against his
cover, not a muscle twitching as he waits for an opening. 

Jefferson's apartment is barely more than one room. He stands with his
back to the main room, rifling through a stack of papers...racing sheets,
newspapers, scraps of paper, bounced checks...the room is dimly lit by a
single lamp, flickering yellowly through the dingy shade. The phone is
right under the lamp. 

A shadow slowly walks up behind Jefferson. It stops a few feet behind him.
And watches the man go through his routine. 

Batman pages: Any sign of weapons on or around his person?

You paged Batman with 'There's a gun sitting on the kitchen counter: a
MAC-10. Big firepower for such a little fish. But he would have to move to
get to it.'. 

Batman pages: Okley.

Jefferson comes up with a small scrap of paper with a phone number on it
and begins to turn around. 

Batman stands before Jefferson as he turns. Staring with silently accusing
eyes at him. He leans his large frame inwards over the crook, almost
bending in an arc. The dim light from the lamp plays over his jaw as he
bares his teeth. 

Jefferson's eyes widen and he curses, twisting towards the kitchen, the
paper in his hands forgotten, drifting out into the air, spiralling
downwards... 

There's seemingly no interval between rest and motion as the hand of the
Caped Crusader snatches the paper from the air. His cape fans out at his
side as his other gauntlet flings a batarang at the doorway leading to the
kitchen. 

Batman pages: I'm trying to stick said throwing implement about headlevel
into the frame so that Jefferson bonks his head into it. 

The ancient, crumbling doorframe of the apartment makes a cracking sound
as the batarang thumps into it. Jefferson's head smacks into it a moment
later, and he twists around, half-falling, half-kicking awkwardly at the
Batman, some part of him still trying to get to the kitchen, stumbling
backwards... 

Batman takes a moment to look at the paper as he starts walking towards
Jefferson. He yanks the batarang from the doorframe with a small snapping
sound, and tilts his head in an angle, looking lengthwise down at
Jefferson. 'You don't want to even try' is the message that clearly is
etched in his face. 

The paper has a phone number: it isn't the same one as Gordon gave.
Jefferson still scrabbles up towards the counter, frantically now. 

Batman looks vaguely disappointed. With a sudden burst of motion, he seems
to fling himself across the kitchen tile, black swirling cloak widening
around him in the small space of the shabby room. A hand reaches out of
the dark blur for Jefferson's arm. 

Jefferson lets out a strange short animal cry and his arm is caught. 
Suddenly this sound seems to burst whatever dams of words were in his
mouth and they come tripping down across his tongue all at once
"IdonnoIdontdonothingIswearitwasntmeitwasntmeyougottabelieveme..." he
trails off into incomprehensibility... 

Batman pulls the arm up, and pins the man's sleeve to a nasty looking
cupboard above his head with the batarang. He places a gloved hand over
Jefferson's mouth. "Shut. Up." He glances across the counter, and eyes the
submachine gun lying there. He picks it up, and ejects the clip with a
motion of his thumb. Tossing the gun over his shoulder, he moves in closer
to the trapped crook. "Listen. Carefully." 

Jefferson lets out a little 'eep' and looks utterly terrified.

Batman speaks a few inches from Jefferson's face. "I've done some asking
around, Franky. And your name's been turning up. In some very unusual
company. Company I thought even your kind of scum was smarter than to
mingle in. You know who I'm talking about, don't you?"

Jefferson is about to say no. But, then, he nods a little.

Batman adds, helpfully "Just nod yes."

Batman mimics the nod. "Alright; I overheard you talking on the phone. You
said he's going to be 'finishing soon'. You know when? Or how? Or where" 

Jefferson shakes his head. To what, is unclear. His mouth opens and closes
as if he's gasping for air. His eyes seek out the empty gun, six feet and
a million miles away. 

Batman removes his hand from Jefferson's mouth. "...don't waste my time.
You were going to check with him? With this number?" He holds up the
crumpled piece of paper in front of Franky's eyes. 

Jefferson shakes his head. "N.....n...not him." he stutters.

Batman says "Who?"

Jefferson stutters out "Da...Dalston...friend. Different gang...not
supposed to call but..." he stops. 

Batman grits his teeth. "Finish that sentence. Or it will go harder." 

Jefferson mumbles "...thought he would know when it was over. Or when I
would get paid. Or if I could borrow something. Or..." he mumbles into
incoherence. 

Batman lets go of Jefferson, then stuffs some nearby papers into his
mouth. Making sure he's securely pinned, he turns, and walks towards the
phone. He dials the number, and mutters quietly in Jefferson's voice a few
times, as if 'warming up'. 

There is the distant crackling of the Joker's transmitters: this is a cell
phone number. The connection opens, but nobody on the other end speaks
immediately. 

Batman stutters out "D-Dalston...I got trouble" in an approximation (a
good one) of Jefferson's voice. 

The voice on the other end is hushed, "...you -know- you arent' supposed
to call me, you little &*#$. What the *&#* do you think you're doing? He
could be listening, he could come in here any minute." 

Batman eyes some of the scattered papers. "Its...its bad man. I think I
got sold out by that punk ass fence...he sold me out th' Bat. Guys down at
Noonan's don't wan't nothin' to do wit' me anymore, man. And my
connections buggin' on me. I gotta know...when's he doin' it?"

The voice is hushed again. "...the bat...hell...he already busted up the
Catagl..." Static fuzzes out his words for a second. "Get out of your
apartment." the voice is advising when he returns. "Get down to the safe
house, you remember where that is, right? I gotta go...I think that may be
his car. -Don't- call me again." There is the sound of fumbling with the
cell phone, then it cuts off. 

Batman scowls. He glances back at the pinned man he's just playacted as,
and walks back to him. Taking the paper out of the man's mouth, he scowls. 
"Gordon's going to enjoy it when I turn you over. And the DA's going to
set her sights high. Then again...you'll be better off in central lockup
when the Joker gets wind of how you talked." 

Jefferson mmmmmphfs.

Batman reaches to his belt, and removes a pair of cuffs. He snaps them
open with a flick of his wrist. "...a waste. In a way." He pulls
Jefferson's sleeve free of the batarang, and pulls the arm around the
man's back. He begins handcuffing him. "...I might as well just drop you
from the window. Save us both some pain. What do you think?" 

Jefferson looks scared, but only for a moment. He mmmphs again.

Batman takes more of the paper out of Jefferson's maw, and starts pushing
his catch towards the window. The curtains flutter a little from a hot
breeze outside.  "...something to say?" 

Jefferson mumbles around the paper, "Please...don't do it...that rat
Mend...I just needed the money...^#&@..." He twists in Batman's grip,
trying ineffectually to escape. 

Batman says "Mend?"

Jefferson pronounces, "Mend-del. Those &*#^& comics...don't kill me,
man..." 

Batman says "...your friend Dalston sounded angry. Said the Joker was
listening. Maybe you could use a little police protection? Assuming you
don't hit that pavement down there when I finished talking." 

Jefferson looks frightened. "He was listening? Oh man...oh man...What do
you need to know?" he says uncertainly. "I don't...I don't know nothing
the cops want...oh man..." Fear seems to be gripping his face, even his
dark skin seems pale. 

Batman says "Dalston mentioned a safehouse. He reccomended you go there.
Not sure what was waiting for you there. But from the laughing in the
background, it sounded...bad." 

Jefferson shakes his head, then brightens. "You wanna know where it is?
Man, why don't you just ask...I tell you that no problem...got it writ
down right over there...just, y'know...put me down...don't kill me or
nothin'..." 

Batman pulls Jefferson back towards the pile of receipts and other
documents. "Show me." 

Jefferson shakes his cuffed hands around. "It's in that pile there." he
says, indicating with his head. "Okay, no tricks or nothing." 

Batman eyes Jefferson coldly. He removes the handcuffs, and watches, arms
crossed over his chest. 

Jefferson fiddles with the papers, stalling a little while his rodentlike
eyes race through rodentlike thoughts. He comes up with a crumpled piece
of legal paper. He holds it out to Batman, casually. 

Batman eyes the paper. His hand drifts down to his belt as he looks at it. 

The paper holds an address. As Batman looks, Jefferson rears back and
throws a wiry-muscled punch at his jaw, telegraphed from about a mile
away. 

Batman catches the fist in a hand. He removes a small yellow module from
his belt. Twisting the arm, and shoves the sleeping gas device in
Jefferson's face, and sprays him with a little of its quick acting
formula. "Stupid, Jefferson. Very stupid." He lets go as the man falls
slack. 

Jefferson collapses instantly.

Batman handcuffs the sleeping man again, this time with his legs pulled up
under his linked hands ala a hogtie. He memorizes the address, looks
through some of the other papers, then tucks the papers with the address
and phone number into Jefferson's belt. With a quick step to the window,
he disappears. 

(OOC) Batman says, "I call the cops too, natch."
(OOC) Jokermitter says, "Okay. And cut."