Gotham: Gotham International Airport

There is busy, and then there is rush hour at Gotham International Airport.
 That time of the day where traffic into and out is a mess, and the terminal is
 a sea of people. As one of the main airports of Gotham the place is always
 hecktic. Friends and family say hello to new arrivals, and goodbye to those
 leaving. Businessmen/women walk around in suits, and sit in terminals punching
 away at notebook computers. The airport also contains a variety of shops
 selling stuff most people really don't need, and alot of high priced food. 

Contents:
Nightwing
Obvious exits:
New York <NY>  Metropolis <MET>  Out <O>

        Nightwing is dressed in his work clothes, and business is
apparently booming. Well honed muscles and athletic grace fill Nightwing's
costume nicely, giving him a sleek, predatory appearance not unlike a
jungle cat. Adding to the predatory appearance are the two piercing blue
eyes that peer from the eyeholes of his angular bird-shaped mask. 

        Nightwing's costume is a form fitting black bodysuit with only a
stylized blue bird breaking the monotony of the black. The 'bird' begins
at a point on the middle of his chest, the 'wings' running into stripes of
the same blue over his shoulders and down the outside of each arm into the
ring and middle fingers of each hand. From the rear, the same blue 'bird'
design can be seen, the lowest point falling to the middle of his back. 
The costume seems to be more flexible around the joints and tougher
elsewhere. Just where this change form soft to hard takes place is hard to
tell with just a passing glance. 

        On his hands and feet there are gloves and boots which extend to
the middle of the lower arms and feet. At their terminating point, the
boots and gloves appear thicker than they do around the hand and foot
area, and almost look compartmented around their 'cuffs'. On the man's
back on either side below his shoulder blades there is a single 'holster'
holding an 'escrima' fighting stick around two feet long. 

Nightwing lands from a swing and runs along a rooftop after the car.

The car pulls up into a pay parking lot and the pair get out. They slouch
purposefully along the street near the airport. Overhead a vast passenger
jet rushes past, going somewhere far beyond this city, this street, that
alley where they're going. Surely that apartment building can't be
inhabited? Of course this impression is wrong. The men shove their way
through a door open far too small for them and mutter curses as they
disappear into the blackness. 

There are also far more cabs than usual parked along this street, most
unoccupied: perhaps the junkyard across the way has something to do with
it. Or maybe it's because all the parking meters are smashed. 

Nightwing follows at quick pace, not short of breath even after the little
rooftop jaunt from back at the restaurant. Reaching a rooftop adjacent to
the apartment building he stops and looks over the edge for windows and
signs of light or movement from within. . o 0 (Nice part of town boys,
coming home to pick up some tools for work or is this Milt's place?) 

(OOC) Jokermitter says, "Maybe these are gypsy cabs, that might explain
Cataglia's reference to 'gypsies'...or Milt might actually be an
honest-to-gosh gypsy, of course." 

Nightwing secures a grappel and rappels himself down to a dark patch of
street level, looking for secondary means of entrance, back doors or low
windows open or broken. 


It's not that there aren't any ways into the building: there are dozens
that appear to Nightwing's trained eye...but the back entrance, where the
pair disappeared into, seems to lead into an area which has much stronger,
much newer interior walls, perhaps a stairwell leading down, though the
floor (the basement's ceiling?) can't be that thick. The building itself
is crumbling, smells like mildew and ancient smoke, and pitch black. 

Nightwing wrinkles his nose as he slinks into the back entrance and a few
steps down the stairs, careful for squeaky boards or other ways of
alarming the men. 

The murmurs of voices come from beneath Nightwing: apparently the stairs
lead more or less right down into the room (rooms?) beneath. The stairs
are also extremely narrow and low-ceilinged, claustrophobic, and heavy
with the smell of cheap cigar smoke drifting up from below. There aren't
any hiding places on the stairs if someone comes this way. 

Nightwing reaches up and activates the low-light lenses in his mask. 
(Hmmm, maybe this isn't such a dodge accesible means of escape, I think
I'll just listen in instead of waltzing into a possible gunfight. That
floor upstairs I saw didn't look thick enough to totally hinder the volume
of cousin Miltie's speech.) 

Nightwing makes his way back upstairs and moves toward any sign of
conversation or scuffle. 

(OOC) Nightwing says, "Back in the building of course, can't be walking
around on the street. ;)" 

(OOC) Nightwing says, "How thick exactly is this floor? Any holes or gaps
to speak of between or in boards?" 

The voices filter up through the floor...there are more than 3 people down
there, but a loud male voice rings out. "Everybody get the ^&*# out. Just
me and Vince and Milt. Get the &^*# out." 

The cracks in the floor allow very little light to get through...but there
is light. The voices sound muffled and eerie...surely it wouldn't take
much to break through, if you needed to. Fortunately, the whole building
creaks and moans so much, and the jets roar over so much that Nightwing's
footsteps can't possibly be heard. 

Nightwing reaches a spot above what he best estimates to be right above
their location and kneels on one knee, taking mental placing of his gear
in his boot and glove compartments as he does so. 

The shuffling of feet out the stairs slowly dies down. The male voice says
"Hey, Milt. Mario sent us down 'cos he said you didn't listen too good
when he talked to you on the phone." A more shaky voice responds. "I'll
tell him the same thing I'm tellin' you. The Joker is moving in. He's
pushing, pushing hard. I lost three guys to him this week already! Good
earners, too." The voice picks up confidence and polish: clearly a con
artist. "And there ain't anything I can do until the Padrino sends me a
little more." He stops, and the silence is more than a little unnerving. 
"What?" says the voice. "Sends you what?" Something's happening down
there. 

Nightwing raises an eyebrow. (Joker offed those guys huh? Good to finally
have a bit of news to send Bruce's way on the Joker.) he thinks to
himself. . o 0 (After my little bumbling against the Scarecrow I doubt I'd
be much good against the Joker alone.) 

Milt's voice, shaky again, filters back up. "Aw, come on, guys. This won't
get you what you want...I'm tellin' you if I had the money to send, I'd
send it. But my people don't want to wake up with big grins and not
breathin'..." "Breathing." Vince's voice says. "Good habit. Want to keep
doing it? Come up with some dough. Now. What did you bring in tonight?" 

Milt whines "Aw, come ON, fellas, what are you okay okay okay all right,
I'll do it. I've got six hundred tonight, and I'll give it all to you, but
that's all I've got, okay? Look, come on, put those things down, please! 
Have some Chinese, I'll get it, it's over in the bedroom. Okay? Come on." 

Nightwing brings his head closer to the floor, still kneeling.  (Put the
heaters away boys, Miltie's got Chinese. 0 o Nightwing thinks as he
reaches for a smoke pellet in a boot compartment. 

Things fall silent. Things are quiet. A smattering of footsteps off to the
side. And suddenly WHAM, a trap door smashes open right above where the
footsteps were and a slightly too-skinny man is flinging himself awkwardly
but enthusiastically upwards through it, flailing wildly and scurrying
like crazy. One of the voice curses. Gunfire is sure to follow. 

Nightwing pulls rises to his feet and raises a foot, kicking with all his
strength on the floor. . o 0 (Sorry foot, ice tomorrow.) The smoke pellet
is ready to let fly. 

Nightwing prepares for a backflip as the foot descends.

The floor makes another CRASH, the rotten wood splintering beneath
Nightwing's blow. Milt twists around as he continues to get to his feet,
seeing Nightwing. For a moment unsure of what to do, he hesitates, then
gunfire erupts from below, punching holes across the floorboards near
where the trapdoor is, and he throws himself awkwardly towards the side. 

Nightwing throws his smoke pellet for the trap door opening, trying to
obfuscate the view of the people below. His other hand reaches for his
own, sharper version of the batarang shuriken.  The smoke pellet bursts
and smoke pours out. Milt, caught in it, starts coughing, scrambling
towards the door. The gunfire stops. "Over there!" someone downstairs
shouts, and a burst of gunfire smacks through the boards near where
Nightwing kicked, rattli ng the floor further. 

Nightwing does a backflip with ease away from the flying bullets and
towards Miltie that turns into a backwards straight kick towards his
chest. "Going somewhere pal?" 


Milt lets out a grunt as Nightwing's blow lands squarely. He coughs again
and flails wildly at Nightwing through the smoke. The gunfire in the
basement stops and the sound of running footsteps towards the trapdoor
begins. "Smoke!" one of them shouts. "The little weasel musta set the
place on fire!" 

Nightwing's momentum isn't fast enough to avoid all of Miltie's wild
flailing. A stray arm catches Nightwing in the side and he falls to his
knee, a bit surprised more than hurt. He gets his shuriken ready to let
fly towards the trapdoor as he recovers. " Yeah Miltie, you set the place
on fire." he says with a small smirk. 

Nicely silhouetted in Nightwing's infrared vision, but totally obscure by
the smoke, one of the gunmen sticks his head up just as Milt says,
intelligently, "Huh?" and continues to race for the door. 

Nightwing adjusts his aim towards Miltie's trailing section and throws a
shuriken at his legs, not quite on target due to his changing aim. He
turns his head quickly towards the men over towards the trapdoor. 

Milt lets out a cry that makes the gunman turn his head and his weapon in
his direction. He extends his gun and fires into the smoke, two loud
shots. Milt collapses, apparently the shuriken was close enough. "I give
up!" he cries, but to whom? 

Nightwing rolls and jumps towards the two men feet first, trying to knock
them back towards the trapdoor. "Oh no you don't boys, no more gunfire
thataway." he says. 

(OOC) Jokermitter says, "Only one is visible. The other is still downstairs."

The man lets out an OOF as Nightwing smashes into him, dropping his
weapon. Milt, now on the verge of hysteria, apparently, lets out a little
giggle. The gunman brings his weapon around as a awkward club to hit
Nightwing, but is clearly surprised and off-balance (he's standing on some
sort of crate beneath the trapdoor, too, and that can't help.) 

(OOC) Nightwing says, "So he packin' the two guns? Woo post influence HK
Gotham style. ;)" 

(OOC) Jokermitter says, "Oops. Now -I'm- up late. He doesn't drop it,
let's say." 

Nightwing reaches for and drops a smoke pellet down the trapdoor as he
ducks the flailing weapon. He bounces back up into a backflip towards
Miltie. 

(OOC) Nightwing says, "No prob....I totally understand. :)"

Milt is crawling for one of the boarded-up windows, cursing now, and
cuhckling grimly at some inner joke. The gunmen cough and fall over each
other rushing for the alleyway exit. 

Nightwing lands from his flip and makes a grabbing lunge at Miltie. "I
should have gone for the other leg too eh? You're mobile for an idiot
Miltie." 

This seems to strike Milt as -very- funny, and his grim chuckles turn into
outright laughter. "Ah HA! Mobile! I'm...HAH HAHAAA!" he shrieks, clawing
not at Nightwing now, but at his throat, as if he can't breathe. 

The footsteps beneath stop dead, much as Milt's patter stopped when they
took out their guns. 

Nightwing groans as a realization hits him. "He chuckling too much after
that razorwing I put into his leg. Joker's little pharmacy is at work
here." he mutters. 

Milt's smile, grotesquely large, spatters with teardrops. His fingernails
draw blood. His shrieking laughter rises in pitch and urgency until a
rattling choke tears through his body and he goes limp. A door slams. The
cops are on their way, and the thugs are presumably on their way back to
the Cataglias...with the same message now smeared across Milt's twisted,
dead lips.