M'gann M'orzz (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
greentheywere) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
synergetic2014-03-15 11:10 pm
greentheywere) wrote in synergetic2014-03-15 11:10 pm
[KBP] Nightfall
'Perimeter secure,' M'gann reported, for about the fifth time that night.
She heard Robin's equally routine "Good work," and settled back in front of a post near the rear entrance. They'd spent most of the afternoon tearing their hair out, trying to find where M'gann would be most ready to restrain the assassins.
That assassins were involved at all was... not wholly new, nor even unexpected, but still not exactly what they'd been briefed for. Strange deaths, yes, with archaic, distinctive weapons, but that this was an organized, practiced, efficient force... well, that was disturbing.
It was uncomfortable to acknowledge. They did ensure that the bad guys would never act again-- something the League could never guarantee, not while Lex Luthor was rich, Ra's al Ghul was immortal, and Queen Bee was an absolute dictator. Not while Hugo Strange was running Belle Reve, and how long had that gone on?
It made her... doubt herself. Doubt their methods. Batman and Robin both had been quick to disabuse her of that idea, and she'd felt such a strong passion from them that she'd had to dampen the link to avoid reading too deeply into their minds, and while she believed their words, especially about justice, rehabilitation, and just--just the possible error of killing an innocent because how could you ever be sure, well.
They did ensure the bad guys would never act again.
'Sweeping again throughout my telepathic range,' she said, and she felt Robin's amusement.
'Wow, you're preempting me,' he laughed. 'Maybe I should take a nap.'
'Dude, I would so kill you, Wally answered, and he made a good show of sounding serious. 'Time zones are bad enough when all of you guys live on the East Coast and I'm in the Midwest. This other side of the planet thing is brutal.'
At least they were still joking. That meant she was safe to keep musing, so long as she didn't lose sight of the mission.
It was a large, grand house, and Zatanna was inside, performing at a get-together for the owner and his friends. Hitting the beat in the local underworld, the owner had tenuous links to an organization that would kidnap middle-class girls and sell them into prostitution somewhere in Europe. Nothing could be proven -- not even by Batman -- but the links were there, and he had a lot in common with the victims of the sudden deaths Batman had been looking into.
They'd been watching for a few days, sometimes M'gann shapeshifted into a generic, unnoticeable housemaid to get closer, and hoping that this group wouldn't target anyone else. It wasn't particularly efficient, but they had to try.
Had to-- and there it was.
'Miss Martian to team. At the very edge of my range, north-north-east quadrant of the estate. Unfamiliar minds approaching.'
'North-north-east,' Robin repeated. 'Public records show nothing but unspoiled forestry there, although my satellite scan registered a higher-than-norm heat signature.'
He paused.
'Don't move in just yet. Guy's still inside. But take your places, everyone. It's showtime.'
She heard Robin's equally routine "Good work," and settled back in front of a post near the rear entrance. They'd spent most of the afternoon tearing their hair out, trying to find where M'gann would be most ready to restrain the assassins.
That assassins were involved at all was... not wholly new, nor even unexpected, but still not exactly what they'd been briefed for. Strange deaths, yes, with archaic, distinctive weapons, but that this was an organized, practiced, efficient force... well, that was disturbing.
It was uncomfortable to acknowledge. They did ensure that the bad guys would never act again-- something the League could never guarantee, not while Lex Luthor was rich, Ra's al Ghul was immortal, and Queen Bee was an absolute dictator. Not while Hugo Strange was running Belle Reve, and how long had that gone on?
It made her... doubt herself. Doubt their methods. Batman and Robin both had been quick to disabuse her of that idea, and she'd felt such a strong passion from them that she'd had to dampen the link to avoid reading too deeply into their minds, and while she believed their words, especially about justice, rehabilitation, and just--just the possible error of killing an innocent because how could you ever be sure, well.
They did ensure the bad guys would never act again.
'Sweeping again throughout my telepathic range,' she said, and she felt Robin's amusement.
'Wow, you're preempting me,' he laughed. 'Maybe I should take a nap.'
'Dude, I would so kill you, Wally answered, and he made a good show of sounding serious. 'Time zones are bad enough when all of you guys live on the East Coast and I'm in the Midwest. This other side of the planet thing is brutal.'
At least they were still joking. That meant she was safe to keep musing, so long as she didn't lose sight of the mission.
It was a large, grand house, and Zatanna was inside, performing at a get-together for the owner and his friends. Hitting the beat in the local underworld, the owner had tenuous links to an organization that would kidnap middle-class girls and sell them into prostitution somewhere in Europe. Nothing could be proven -- not even by Batman -- but the links were there, and he had a lot in common with the victims of the sudden deaths Batman had been looking into.
They'd been watching for a few days, sometimes M'gann shapeshifted into a generic, unnoticeable housemaid to get closer, and hoping that this group wouldn't target anyone else. It wasn't particularly efficient, but they had to try.
Had to-- and there it was.
'Miss Martian to team. At the very edge of my range, north-north-east quadrant of the estate. Unfamiliar minds approaching.'
'North-north-east,' Robin repeated. 'Public records show nothing but unspoiled forestry there, although my satellite scan registered a higher-than-norm heat signature.'
He paused.
'Don't move in just yet. Guy's still inside. But take your places, everyone. It's showtime.'
no subject
That went double for an answer that could implicate, as was the case for Batman's proclamation of his identity. Any acknowledgement, even one that only affirmed the first half of what he said, could be extended as acknowledgement of both. Any denial could be used to frame him as an unreliable witness, and that would kill whatever worth his word had at this point. Non-response was the only safe choice.
He sloughed away from the wall to lie on the floor, knees half-curled in front of him and defeat across his face.
"I invoke my right to remain silent for the rest of the journey. I'm tired..."
And depressed, and ashamed, and lonely.
no subject
no subject
He, too, wanted to plot. His options were incredibly limited, and with things as they stood... barring an astronomically unlikely rescue, he would be facing questions again all too soon. Batman had implied that while a technical right to silence existed, that didn't mean all he had to do was keep his mouth shut for a few days. They were determined to get more information from him. That information was going to cause trouble. And the last few minutes had shown that even if he was careful, he was still likely to help them learn things they shouldn't learn.
Omi did not want to be the reason Kritiker was dissolved. He did not want to be the reason Ken, Youji and Aya went to jail. His thoughts traveled, once more, to the small drugged dart tucked against the roof of his mouth. Most of the time, it was a close-range defense for emergencies, when his hands were restricted. In an unconventional sort of way, he supposed that was the case here as well.
Most likely, it wasn't enough for any permanent solution, but if he was lucky, maybe, given his small size and younger age. It was a chance he would have to take. There might not be another opportunity where he was more likely to go unnoticed. He was lying down with his back to the others. If it was enough... it would probably need a few minutes. It would be better if the initial drop didn't draw attention. This was a good time.
He freed the needle with his tongue and considered where best to direct it. Leaving the mouth was out of the question. That would be noticed. Cheek... Lip... Tongue... The tongue probably had the most direct blood flow. He braced the dart against a lower molar, took one slow, final breath for preparation, and shoved the underside of his tongue against the tip.
He barely made a sound from the pain. Within seconds, consciousness was gone.
no subject
Robin's buttons, unfortunately, were just easier to press. Bruce knew where most of them were.
Even so, it was slow going. Dick clearly wasn't comfortable rifling through someone else's memories ("How does M'gann do it?"), although Bruce suspected that was mostly to invoke karma.
"Why don't you check on him," Batman suggested, to give him a break. "It's been a while."
"All right," Robin, seeing his out and taking it.
The prisoner was slumped against the wall, about as Batman described. But that'd been a while, and no assassin should sleep that deeply, especially not one that's been captured.
He knelt, felt his wrist for a pulse, and it was faint, but present.