Naila al-Kimyai is the Demon's (head) wrote in rooms, @ 2014-05-18 00:58:00 |
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Entry tags: | !dc comics, *log, ra's al ghul, selina kyle |
Nabbing a Cat
Who: Ra's, Selina and a few NPC League members
What: Cat-napping.
Where: Gotham
When: Now
Warnings/Rating: A little violence, drugging someone against their will.
The Cat was always so very useful. Useful in getting Mr. Grayson's suit, useful in transmitting his virus to another door, and now she'd be useful in finding out just where the Detective's mind was. As much as he disapproved of her as a female companion for the Detective, especially when Bruce could have his daughter, he was not above using that connection to pry at him, force him from his apathy and into action. He'd brought Bruce out of darkness before; he would do so again.
But it all would begin with her. His League knew to watch for her, to blend as they did into shadows around the city, all waiting for a glimpse of her pointy ears. And as soon as she was, there was a hiss of coordinates across the city as they converged on her location. Some carried small vials of drugs to keep her sedate, others were armed only with their hands, others with knives in case she managed to use her whip, but the objective had been clear: bring her in alive and mostly unharmed. A few drops of blood would only lend speed to the Detective.
Inside a black sedan, one of thousands across the city, Ra's waited to hear of their success, the comm in his ear on the same channel as his League was utilizing tonight.
Selina wasn't a challenge that evening.
She should have stayed in Marvel longer. She was still sedation-woozy, still aching from the surgery. She should have stayed in Robert's bed for a few days, where it was warm and safe. But the fact that it felt warm and safe? That had made her crawl out of his bed before sunrise. She'd left without leaving a note, without touching him, without pressing a kiss to his cheek. Like a thief in the night, and at least that felt right. Because everything else? Everything else felt wrong.
She knew it was fear. She knew that Ra's al Ghul had managed to scrape his way beneath her skin. He had become her boogieman, her nightmare, the thing that she feared without any real concreteness. Oh, she feared, and she hated it. She feared for the people she cared about, and she feared becoming a bargaining chip. She knew she would stay away from Marvel after this; she needed to stay away from Marvel after this.
And she knew it would be nearly impossible.
But she could be a determined kitty cat. And so, she crawled back to Gotham, lounge pants and that wife beater and a thin cast on her arm from shoulder to elbow. She had her shoes in her hand, and her hair was sleep-tousled, and she intended to take a hot shower in her apartment in Gotham's Chinatown. A shower, and then maybe she could sleep away the vulnerability that coated her skin like newly-familiar fingers.
And there was there was the Bat. The Bat. Always the Bat. Even now, there, just over her shoulder. Even though he didn't want her. Even though, and Eddie was right, all they did was hurt each other.
She unlocked the door to her apartment, and she walked inside. It was quiet. None of her security tells had been touched - no broken string, no creaking door, nothing to worry about. She went into the apartment, and she leaned heavily back against the door and listened for the register ding, ding of the twenty-four hour market below.
They were trained for stealth, to only make noise when they wanted to, not before nor after. A loud ninja was a dead ninja and Ra's had no use for them. While unpredictability bred fear and that was something he could use.
From the backseat of his car, he watched a flash as light struck something metal, as shadows descended on the small Chinatown apartment. Three crept up from the open front door-- a forward entrance while others hovered above windows and two set down on the fire escape. A cat trap.
The register of the market went ding, ding, a sale made, money to coat the insides of their pockets. The windows above shattered under the League's heels, the front door shuddered and creaked, then cracked under the onslaught of multiple shoulders. Silence wasn't needed for this, not now, not here, not when he wanted the Detective to know she'd been taken and by whom.
They rushed in, not a word uttered as they surged into the apartment, a tidal wave of silent black figures, the only noise coming from glass cracking under their boots. They moved fast, going for her arms and legs to make her capture easier, while one of the three pushing through her door drew out the syringe of sedative as he came towards her back.
Selina managed to peel wifebeater off, and she managed to cross the living room. The door creaked, and she turned, already reaching for the discarded fabric. But she was slow. She was so slow, and maybe she was tired. Or maybe it was shock, fear, paralyzing fear. She recognized the black. She knew it was the League.
She knew it was Ra's.
She backed away from the door, from the window. No move to grab her whip, and only the intent to flee. Oh, god, to flee. She couldn't get caught. She couldn't-
But her feet were lead, and the ground was concrete, and she couldn't move. The air was thin, panic making it hard to breathe. Her chest hurt. Shock and anxiety, and the pressure on her chest was like bricks, like rocks, an unmoveable weight. The world went dark at the corners. She gasped. The world was shattered glass, and it was black, and it was the familiar kiss of a syringe.
She gave up. Just like that, she gave up.
And that was how the Cat of Gotham fell. Once she was down, they gathered her up, strong arms beneath her back and knees, pushed a black bag over her head in case she woke up. Ra's didn't want to be seen yet, didn't want to give the Detective and his family the knowledge of who he was now before he was fully prepared to. One of them carried her through the broken door and down the stairs, out to the black SVU idling behind the plain black sedan. They loaded her inside, two of his assassins remaining with her while the others faded into new shadows and spread out across Gotham again.
Inside the car, Ra's smiled as the driver slipped the sedan out of park and began driving back into the heart of the city. He'd noticed the cast on her upper arm and wanted to ensure that wasn't damaged, check to see what, if any, injuries she had before he moved her into a warehouse as bait for the Bat.
And if the Bat didn't come, there were other options.