|Helena Rosa Bertinelli † H u n t r e s s (bertinelli) wrote in dc_universe,|
@ 2010-04-23 16:35:00
|Entry tags:||!status: complete, character: batman, character: huntress, month: 1, rating: pg-13|
WHO: Huntress, Batman.
WHEN: Month 1, Day 2.
WHERE: Gotham City, Bada Bing (Strip Club).
Inexperience cripples. That was what went through the armed flunkies' minds as their skulls cracked against the cold concrete. The sight of the prone bodies elicited only a glimmer of satisfaction from the masked vigilante, before she stepped over the fallen guards and entered the seedy club through its now-unprotected back entrance. Inside, the lights were dimmed and there were no signs of movement, but she knew better than to let her guard down. There was a pulsing, rhythmic beat emanating from the front of the club, but it looked like the back rooms were, for the moment, unoccupied.
Crossbow at the ready, the Huntress took time to check each room for signs of life. (There'd been none.) She'd entered one of the more larger rooms at the end of a darkened hallway, which looked like a place where the big bosses came to talk - or entertain, from the looks of it. There was a giant flat screen hanging opposite of a rather large leather sofa, a mini bar, and mirrors.... Lots of them. All around the room. No doubt to give the illusion that the room was much bigger than it really was.
Beneath the television was a DVD player and a stack of unmarked discs lying atop it. She had a sudden compulsion to view them, for some reason. They'd be stupid to keep incriminating footage around, but not all mobsters were very intelligent. Some tended to get sloppy about the "little details." Something told her someone had gotten careless. Very, very careless.
In a matter of seconds, the large screen came to life and one of the home movies began to play. "What about me?" A voice off screen had said, before the sound of gun firing and a dull thud could be heard.
"I always wanted to prosecuted that guy." Another voice had said, as the picture became clearer, revealing group of men - most of whom looked like they were about to lose their lunch. But who could blame them? The man who continuously flipped his coin didn't look much like a man, but a monster instead. That, and the fact one of their own was now lying, bleeding and broken on the floor.
The hell....? Harvey Dent was dead.
The Huntress gave a bemused blinked behind her mask, but continued to watch the screen intently.
"Next person calls me Dent gets a bullet in the brain. My guy’s got you all in his sights. Now sit down!"
“I said sit down! Or I start flipping."
Once the room quieted, another man spoke - one she recognized as Tony Zucco. "So what do we call you?"
Two-Face. Made sense. She'd read about the incident in which the former D.A. had half of his face burned off. It was a sad ending for such a promising future, but the fact that Dent was (or had) been fraternizing with known mobsters made her lose a bit of sympathy for Gotham's so-called White Knight.
As the footage progressed, Dent went on to chastise the mob for their less-than-savory activities. He spoke of his glory days when he'd been the city's savior, more so than the Batman had ever been. But everyone (including himself) had failed - or so he thought. He more the man spoke, the more the Huntress knew he was just as certifiable as half the wackos locked up in Arkham.
Her eyes narrowed as Dent reached his conclusion, however. He wanted to be head mobster. She hadn't been expecting that sort of twist, but she'd found what she had been looking for and that was all that mattered. Just as she moved to remove the disc from the player, she heard the the door knob turn. DVD in hand, she turned (crossbow raised) as a short, lightly built man with slicked-back hair entered the room.
"What the hell!" He'd exclaimed, taking a step forward, but was stopped short by a bolt that went straight through his left shoulder. "SON OF A---" Huntress sprinted toward him and slammed in against the wall against the (partially ajar) door, teeth bared in a silent growl. "Be quiet, or I'll put one another one in a place where the sun don't shine, capiche?"
The oily man gave a squeak, eyes bulging, fearfully.
"I want you to tell your new boss that I was looking for him." The Huntress gave his shoulders another painful shove, before she relinquished her hold and darted out of the room.