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Fandom Gotham By Midnight

"Yeah... well, at least we got the guy," Felix responds to Ramlethal almost dryly as he passes her. With the smoke cleared and the thugs dispersed, Two-Face is all the clearer, hanging under the light as he is. By the time they begin questioning him, his screaming has rescinded into more of a growl. Upset, very much so that of a beast. Whatever calm side he'd displayed for those few short moments earlier has been snuffed out. He does not attempt to hide his snarl as he glares at them all - though above all else, his eyes remain fixed on Plan B. Without the smoke hiding him, the fear has been replaced with that much more anger.

"You're not The Bat..." he finally snarls through his heavy breaths and disgusted glare. Even with that familiar helping hand, as he guides those cops to safety and they sit against those steps. It's not him. Can't be. It's just someone like him, playing dress-up and sitting through the routine all the same. Maybe a fan? Or from another city? He can't tell. All he knows is that his stomach twists at the sight of him helping those cops.

His gaze snaps over to Tavish as he starts asking the proper questions. The sound of his exposed eye moving amongst the wet muscles of the burnt half comes out in a wet squelch. It's a sound that makes Felix wince, though other than the brief motion and sound of disgust, he says nothing of it out loud. Tavish's question, however, isn't met with an answer. Just a cold glare, and a noticeable tensing of his muscles. If his fists could somehow wound even tighter...

The sound of a bullet ringing out catches Two-Face's attention. His breath noticeably hastens as Quiet approaches, but he still says nothing. It isn't until she closes the distance entirely and raises her knife against his jugular that he finally pushes out a breath from his nostrils, and with said breath comes a pained gasp. He tries to lean back, good eye closing and whole face turning away as he does so. But the blade presses regardless. It only takes him a moment to catch his breath either way and then when he looks back, a smug grin is managed above all else.

"Don't play dumb," he spits through the smile. "I saw that mercy kill. You can have all the blood on y'er knife that you want - but you ain't the one who did all this." He nods his head in the direction of the corpses - particularly the more mutilated ones. The ones who had met the business end of Frank's, Tav's, Demoman's, and Felix's weapons. "Stands to reason I should fear the rest of you, though," he chuckles regardless as he turns back. "But I've gotta say... it's a nice change of pace from the usual."

His eyes flick to the back and momentarily widen as Tav makes his way around, killing what's left of his men. The smile quickly fades at the sight of all that, and his brow furrows heavily. That same fear from earlier, when he thought Plan B was someone else, returns. Through the smoke, the chaos, and his fight, it was hard for him to tell what was going on. In the aftermath of it all, only the bodies remained. He's seen bodies before. But seeing such a callous act in the open... unusual for this city? No. But it reminded him of why he stayed far away from clowns, and why he was thankful the man he fought wasn't the usual sort.

"You people are crazy..." he finally breathes out as the last body falls, his voice no longer a growl, but rather a return of that brief calm from before the battle. "Killing those men in cold blood... they were fleeing!"

He jolts in his restraints, again to no avail. The knife against his throat discourages him from rocking too hard. He's killed his men before - sometimes for this same thing. But this lot? The cop-saving, crime-fighting one? Acting like this? Allowing this? It's unheard of, around here. Even with the knife pressing against his throat, it's that sight that gets to him more. The others, and what they're doing. Even as Plan B puts a stop to it, his ragged breaths only lessen, but they don't end. Surprisingly, though, Felix makes no move through it all. At least, not for a moment. As one of the stray men is hoisted up by Tav, Felix raises his gun. Without even looking, he shoots a fleeing man at the end of the street, who was just about to turn the corner. Like before, the bullet lands between his eyes, ripping through his skull and brain in a second.

When he falls to the ground, dead, Felix makes his way forward.

"So... what's your name?" he asks, just calm enough to disarm a less knowledgeable man, but with enough bite to keep anyone else on their toes. "I'm Felix. I don't really know about the rest of these guys - but, as you can see, they are raring for more blood. Now, me?" Felix chuckles and brings up his gun, just so he can press its side flat against his chest. "You're lucky that I'm a professional. I don't muddy my hands unless I'm getting paid. I mean, I'll kill, sure. But torture? Interrogation? That's not my style for free. However, being here is currently impeding my work, which by virtue..." Felix brings out his gun, just to lazily aim it outward, pressing the barrel against Two-Face's nose. "...puts you at a disadvantage. Because that means you are really pissing me off. And the longer I stay pissed off, the more inclined I am to let my colleagues have their fun. So I'd really think twice before mouthing off again."

With that, Felix withdraws the gun, and his hands fall to his hips. The ragged breaths have since returned, and Two-Face finally lets out another yell.

"Why the hell would I know why you're here!?" he spits, saliva flying out in bursts and landing on Quiet's face, with her being the closest. "Do you think I like gettin' interrupted by you freaks!? This city's got enough of our kind as it is - the last thing it needs is more of it on the other side!"

As Two-Face spills his words, the thug with his hands behind his head spills his.

"I don't know what you're talkin' about, man!" he grunts, wincing from the pain. It's clearly too hard for him to speak, given the state he's in. He can barely even hold his hands up behind his head - or even hold himself upright at all. "It's a riot! What else do you expect us to do when we're set free!?"

megar megar Cephrys Cephrys FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla Jeremiah Jeremiah DapperDogman DapperDogman BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2​
 
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Were circumstances more lenient, Ramlethal would have acted against the bloodshed sooner. But she is not in an advantageous position on that front, with those doing the killing so powerful, so she couldn't risk intervening.

It sends a pang of guilt through her. But too much is yet uncertain. There is, at least, one thing she *can* do... so she floats herself further forward. It's obvious he has no answers for why this group has appeared -- but all the same that does not make it a useless effort to question him.

"I will accept you don't have any knowledge of that. I wouldn't expect you to. What I want to know is where we are and who you are."

She takes a breath.

"If you cooperate, I will ensure your safety. That's... a promise."

If she can keep even one person from harm, that is something she will do.
 
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Two-Face's eyes settle on Ramlethal as she makes her way forward, floating ahead as she does. For a moment, his teeth grit. His eyes dart over her, unsure of what to even make of the floating woman, or her offered words. His jaw tightens, his fists wound, his voice growls... and then all at once, it's released. His eye closes, even as the exposed one remains open, disgustingly twitching within its socket. His fingers flex against their binds, more in contemplation than anything else.

"...Harvey Dent," he eventually says, with a sigh. "My name is Harvey Dent."

"But everyone else calls us Two-Face," the other voice growls, not a moment later. "And you've found yourself in Gotham City - biggest shithole this side of Jersey."

megar megar ​
 

  • When Two-Face called Quiet's bluff, she couldn't help but let out a soft hah, as if the thought amused her. She didn't expect his attention to shift away from Plan B so quickly and towards her, and he was right- she wouldn't kill him as quickly as the others might. But that didn't mean she was a pacifist at heart. She was about to demonstrate that right before sounds of gunfire filled the streets once more and visibly distracted her.

    As Tav began executing the henchmen she'd strived so hard to neutralize nonlethally, she could only look on and continue hiding her own frustrations. At least, not while she was trying to maintain her facade. Thankfully, the other mute got the trigger-happy soldier to stand down, allowing her to shift her attention back to the interrogation.

    This time, Felix took over and began interrogating the boss. While the armored man began a winding speech, she used her free hand to activate her iDroid, cycling through all radio frequencies just to make sure the GCPD hadn't switched channels on her. Regardless of the result, she put her handheld back away just as Felix finished monologuing and Two-Face lashed out.

    Though both her scowl and black markings had dissipated moments after her prisoner had seen through her facade, the brunette didn't bat an eye as he lashed back out as best as he could. Her blade didn't move an inch as she wiped the spit off her face with the palm of her hand... then, in the blink of an eye, her same hand lunged upwards to snatch his own. The butterfly-esque splotches returned to her sharp gaze pointed directly at Two-Face as she gradually began squeezing his palm. Within moments, her vice grip would feel like it was about to crush his hand- and then, right before that could happen, she let go- allowing him to look at her cold expression as her markings faded again. He could judge whether or not she was bluffing about breaking his bones.

    She might have shed her Cipher-honed bloodlust for killing, but that didn't mean she wasn't willing to get her hands dirty for the greater good. The others might have been keen on killing Two-Face if he wasted their time, but Quiet had no qualms waiting and snapping everything non-essential if it meant they got answers- and if she was lucky, such a show of force might be enough to stop the actual killers from having it their way.

    When Ramlethal took over the questioning, the vanguard slightly released the pressure her blade applied to Two-Face's throat, allowing him to speak more freely for the time being and tell them his name and where they were. Two-Face seemed like a pretty obvious name, considering the criminal's appearance, but Gotham City was supposedly in Jersey... why were they in New Jersey? That was as far away from Afghanistan as one could get. She pushed this concerning thought out of her mind, as she needed to focus on the present.

    Once more, Quiet prodded her knife a tad bit more- just enough to remind Harvey that his life was still at stake, yet not enough to draw blood just yet- before shifting her gaze back to the girl with the swords, as if allowing her to continue. Plan B and Tav were busy dealing with the officers and henchmen respectively, and Tavish probably wasn't going to had already squandered his first question on Harvey's suit of all things. Though Felix's attempt at questioning was certainly appreciated, Ramlethal was the only one who was successful so far- that is, unless the final loner wished to chime in. It'd certainly help having more people getting proper answers out of their quarry, after all.
 
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"Jersey... how did we end up in America?"

It's a question she knows no one here will have the answer to, least of all herself. Last she remembers, she was continents away. It would take a lot to get her across the seas without her even knowing for such a long time.

"...That doesn't matter right now," she says, shaking the thought away -- right now what's right in front of her is more important. "Did you organise this riot? Or did you just make the most of it? That man over there said you were set free. Do you know who's responsible for that?"
 
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Bemused that his question hadn't been answered and evidently still inebriated, the Demoman didn't pay much attention to the questioning going on. He didn't have any input to add for himself - that was, until the revelation of a prison riot was revealed as the source of the escaped prisoners.

"Aye!" Tavish raised his bottle. "Forgot about that, I did. That'll be how I got out!" Chuckling, he took another swig of his drink, like that was something normal that he had just shared.
 
"You're not The Bat."
No. No he's not. But he still kicked you ass so bad you had him confused for your own personal boogeyman.

Seems as if someone sprang the inmates specifically so that they could cause chaos in the streets. Either they were dealing with someone who really loves mass destruction and havoc, or someone's using this noise as a smokescreen for some shady shit. Neither of those options is good, but the second is going to be much harder to unravel before whatever plan lays underneath this carnage.

He's about to take a step toward Two-Face when he hears that they're apparently somewhere near Jersey. Which one?
New Jersey the state? Jersey in Georgia? Jersey Village in Texas? Jersey County in Illinois?
The climate felt pretty close to what he was used to on the East Coast. Close to Regra, or where it should be.

He'd need to check any US flags he saw, that's the easiest, and subtlest way to check if his suspicions were true.

With all that thinking out of the way, he does take his step forward, getting between Two-Face and Ramlethal reaching into his pouch and withdrawing another card, this time taking the card and tucking it gently into one of the coils of wire from his Bolas that was pinning Two-Face's arms at his sides. Then he gives the man two playful taps on the cheek with an open palm. Almost like a father would pat their son on the back before saying 'good job sport.'

He's about to stand back up and allow the woman to continue asking her questions when he recalls something that the gang leader had said. Just before the attempted execution.

He stoops down just enough that the eye holes in his mask match the level of Two-Face's own, and his hand, still on the burnt cheek shifts slightly, his thumb hovering just over the exposed eyeball.

He reaches into one of his pockets with the other, and fishes out a coin.
The design of the coin is all wrong. For one, it's a dollar coin, but it's entirely gold. And both sides are entirely unfamiliar.
The man cocks his head slightly, asking a silent, implied, question.
'Should I?'

Twice Knightly Twice Knightly - Two-Face
megar megar - Ramlethal​
 
"Oh so it's a riot then eh?" Tav thought out loud, pulling the crank on his lasgun back. The hum of motive force coursing through his weapon grew quieter, quieter, quieter until the soldier and the rioter were joined in silence. Tav took his time considering the possibilities of just what was unfolding here, and more importantly why it involved him. He considered why the goon laid cowering at his feet was involved, too. Mate's just a pawn. he wondered, then shrugged, Guess I am too. But in whose game?

"Oi sunshine, if you got set free then who was it that broke you out huh?" Tav barked, strapping his rifle to his back just to draw a laspistol from the holster on his hip, "Was it your boss there?" he gestured towards Two-Face, "Maybe it was your boss' boss? Spit it out! Before I hand you over to the Gotham City Guard, and you better pray they're more merciful than I am,"​

Mentions

Twice Knightly Twice Knightly - GM
 
The fight came to its gory end. For each of his comrades, the vigilante filed them away somewhere. None of them really made their way to the "useful" cabinet yet. A few got "too merciful." A couple others got "completely deranged." He'd watch both groups closely, albeit for different reasons. He remembered the names he'd bothered to overhear. He'd share his when it became clear this was a group he was going to want to stay with -- or at least be stuck with for the remainder of this misadventure.

Frank was still not one for teamwork, even after everything was said and done. While the others set about interrogation or cleanup, Frank started moving. Finishing off stragglers too far gone to question. Collecting ammunition. Weaponry. Anything he could carry while traveling relatively light. This was only the beginning. He could hear the chaos. For all they knew, another bus full of lunatics armed with better weapons than these could whirl around the corner and blow half of them away in seconds. The conversation only drew his attention once he noticed that things weren't necessarily amounting to much. Interrogation was something he'd excelled at. Been trained in. Levelled at hundreds. Frank knew when someone was just lying and when they truly had nothing to offer. At least with regards to how their present circumstances came to be, neither of them knew anything.

That couldn't be said for the more immediate danger, though. For a moment, he contemplated executing one of the two outright to make the other more pliable. Both had clearly earned it. Two-Face, the leader, would naturally know more, but would also be less likely to talk -- and likely less rattled by the death of his subordinate than the thug that of his leader. What stopped him from that particular course of action was more the fact that it would likely invite conflict with his more soft-hearted allies. Conflict he had neither the resources, nor time, to handle at that moment. So, he needed something effective, but impermanent (or at least, nonlethal) so it wouldn't get him suckerpunched.

The mute, masked man seemed have some sort of plan for Two-Face. Naturally, Frank went for the thug. Less disciplined. Less brave. Less reliable, too. It'd do. Striding up with purpose, Frank's pistol raised and fired off a shot -- fortunately for those startled or invested in the man's continued survival, the gun only went off next to his head. His left ear, specifically. He only needed the one. The still-warm barrel pressed to the criminal's forehead shortly thereafter. "Names. Places. Numbers. Now. You're going to tell us everything you know about anyone and everyone in this city. Lie, you die. Stutter wrong, you die. Tell me you don't know anything, you die." Very far from an empty threat, judging by the trail of carnage. Frank wasn't like the Demolitionist or the Soldier -- he didn't openly relish in his violence. But, mixed in with the cold dispassion, anyone studying his eyes could see almost Biblical hatred. If Frank had any real say, this man would probably already be dead.​
 
He notices Quiet's sigh, eyes briefly shifting over to meet her as she does so. The exposed eye makes an audible, disgusting sound in response. Those exposed muscles and tendons behind the permanently ruined flesh of his face leave nothing to the imagination. More to the point, it's evident that the man is better at picking up on tells than he lets on. Until now, he's mostly been a screaming mess, only briefly shifting into a personality more befitting of his good half. Yet to the sigh, he says nothing. He just watches Quiet for a long moment, and squints as she pulls out her iDroid.

"...damn it, I don't care who he says he is, he's going into holding until we can get a better hold on the situation!" the familiar voice of Gordon crackles in through a mess of static. Loud commotion can be heard in the background, presumably, other men surrounding him trying to do exactly as he said. If this situation hadn't made it evident enough, you'd landed in a hell zone with no clear way out. As she puts away the device, Two-Face scoffs and rolls his eyes, though he provides no further commentary. He does, however, wince and let out a sharp hiss as his palm is grabbed and squeezed. Firm as his bones are, they can do little against the pressure of a trained soldier like Quiet. She relents just as he's about to scream, and then he's left breathing for air in the moments that follow - practically gasping.

"Wow," Felix jokes from the side, giving Quiet a little pat on the arm with the back of his hand. "Going for the bones over a little spit? I like the way you think."

Despite this, Felix does nothing. He just crosses his arms and continues watching.

"Who's to say we didn't break ourselves out?" he finally hisses back, having just barely managed to catch his breath. Again, his gaze shifts, and he smirks a little bit toward Tavish as he gives his response. He even nods his head a little - as much as he can with that gun pressed against his skull, anyway. "Looks like you've got a criminal on y'er side, too. Why don't you string him up by his ankles, too? Interrogate him with a knife to his throat? Hell... why don't you crack a few ribs while y'er at it, f'er good measure?" The smirk isn't kept up for very long, though, with the Not-Bat walking over to him and patting him on the cheek. The gesture earns a grunt from Two-Face as he winces and instinctively tries to pull away to the best of his ability. That indignant look soon turns to one of annoyance as his gaze shifts down to the golden coin, that disgusting sound returning with it. He stares, nostrils flaring, growl rising in the back of his throat...

And then, the smirk returns.

"Heh... looks like one of you has the right idea."

Now he meets Plan B's gaze head-on, through his mask. His tongue slips through his dry, cracked lips, wetting them in sudden anticipation.

"You may not be The Bat... but now? Now... I'm seein' that may not be a bad thing after all," A heavy breath escapes him as he writhes just a little bit in his binds. It's almost as if he's trying to push himself further toward Plan B, but can't due to his binds. "No, no... you're much more fun. He'd never do somethin' like this..." His eyes dart down to the coin again, and his smirk steadily, shakily grows into a grin. "Come on... do it." He's cut off by the sound of Frank's gun going off in the background - and that just draws out another laugh. "Show me what fate's got in store for us both."

As a result of the gunshot in question, the thug laying on the ground was much less composed than Two-Face. He winces as the smoking barren is pressed against his forehead, and the whimper that escapes him at the same time is anything but subtle. He definitely tries to hide it, but in the face of a man with both a gun to his head and who'd just demonstrated a clear intent to use it on his colleagues, that's a damn near impossible feat. He hadn't even had a chance to answer Tav's question before the gun went off, and before then he'd already been overwhelmed by everything that had just happened.

"Y-you guys are askin' too much at once!" he sputters out, clearly without much thought, but still with a stark desire to keep himself alive. "I-I don't know no numbers or places, but I-- I can give names!" He gulps, and winces from the dryness in his throat. "I-I know lots'a names! Do you jus' want the guy who broke us out, or a whole list? Because I can start goin' down if you that's what you two want!"

Jeremiah Jeremiah BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 megar megar DapperDogman DapperDogman Cephrys Cephrys FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla ​
 
This sick fuck is actually enjoying having his own MO turned on him.
It's not exactly uncommon for a criminal with a penchant for ritualistic actions to enjoy seeing others follow their guiding principles, but this guy? Does he want his eye gouged out? No...It's just the thrill of the chance, isn't it?
This guy lives on the edge between life and death. He thrives there. The masked man can see it in his good eye. The coin flip he proposed for the officers, he must have actually meant it? It's not just a threat, it's

A smirk spreads across his own lips, beneath his mask. It's been a while since anyone was able to smile at him while at his mercy. This was getting interesting.

He palms the coin forward onto his thumb and flips it. He doesn't even look at it as it spins through the air, coming back down onto his palm as he catches it. He stares deep into the eye he isn't covering. The unspoken question hangs in the air. Heads or tails?

Right now the coin in his hand is a Schrödinger's cat.
Until his hand opens fate is undecided. But once the result is revealed what follows? The agony of failure, or the exhilaration of success?

Plan B rarely feels alive. He rarely experiences this level of thrill, it's like he's riding the high with Two-Face. The energy is palpable, tension holding tight in his muscles as he waits for the call to be made. The excitement is clear, he's holding his breath.

Twice Knightly Twice Knightly - Two-Face​
 

  • Sounds like the police weren’t handling the situation any better than when the group first caught their comms. Quiet figured that was to be expected, considering how bad the streets looked like. They hadn’t even crossed one street without having to deal with criminals, after all. At least they weren’t capitulating, and were still able to detain some troublemakers.

    Felix‘s encouraging pat didn’t warrant a visible reaction from the huntress, but deep down- even if she didn’t want to admit it- part of her relished the feeling. She was supposed to be better than this- above her older days of being a cold-blooded assassin- and yet she felt good about acting merciless, even if it was only out of necessity. She pushed this unsettling realization out of her mind, turning her gaze to the others as they proceeded with their two interrogations.

    Tavish‘s claim, however, prompted the sniper to glance back at the drunkard. There were so many questions she wanted to immediately ask him, but she couldn’t verbalize her thoughts, and the others were too busy with the criminals. She just hoped one of them had enough common sense to get more information out of the one member who’d directly been a part of this riot. Then again, Two-Face called the Demoman out too, so at least she wasn’t the only one paying attention.

    The only reason why she hadn’t considered detaining the man up was because she suspected this’d cause more trouble than it was worth. Sure, he didn’t seem too intelligent, and he’d very likely slaughter anyone they came across, but they needed all the help they could get.

    Finally, Plan B searched his quarry to find the coin that Two-Face alluded to before- likely part of his namesake. Using his own MO against him? Now that was certainly an interesting gamble. Quiet withdrew her knife from Harvey’s throat, allowing the other two to get a good look at the coin as it soared in the air. Thanks to her sharp perception, she could already tell what the result was, but she wouldn’t spoil the surprise. She took a step back before reloading her weapons: readying herself for the next encounter that was inevitable due to the circumstances.
 
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Tav flinched hearing the sound of an autopistol going off behind him, and whipped around to see just what was happening. That's when Tav saw​
him. To say the hate Tav saw in his eyes was biblical would be an understatement; what Tav saw was a righteous anger befitting the God-Emperor himself. That was an anger the veteran had only ever seen shine through one man before in his life. Must be an Inquisitor, was his first thought, and if not he'd make a damn good candidate. was his second. In either case Tav knew better than to stand in his way. He holstered his laspistol again and took a step back, scanning their surroundings while Frank was busy with the interrogation. Tav dared not speak; he knew what happens when you so much as look at a man like Frank the wrong way.​


Mentions

BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 - Frank
Twice Knightly Twice Knightly - GM
 
Out of the corner of his eye, Frank keeps a careful watch on the other interrogation. Something about a cointoss. They were humoring a madman. He noted and filed away his disapproval, but the occurrence probably wasn't worth noting. It was going to prove much harder to get Frank to approve of anything they did, rather than the inverse, until he at least vaguely understood who these people were and came to trust them in some way.

The thug gave a non-answer, more out of panic than a lack of cooperation. Frank recognized the fear. It was a much more effective motivator than actually harming his would-be target. Victims of torture would say anything to get you to stop. It made the information unreliable, at best. Not that that really stopped him from employing it as a tool, or that threatening to kill someone wasn't functionally a form of torture, but it was just as often punitive as it was for the purpose of gathering information. He struck the man cross the face with the pistol, silencing the panicked rambling. The useless jabber would only make things harder to parse through. "You were asked questions." He tilted his head slightly towards Tav without breaking eye contact with his present captive. "Answer them. Quickly. Every important name you have for what's happening in the city right now. Keep it relevant," He growled, voice like cold gravel. The barrel pressed against his head a little harder this time, the implied threat far from subtle. Every word of useful intel the man offered, the chances he lived (maybe not walked away, but lived) went up slightly. Every second he spent wasting their time, it went down very quickly.

Jeremiah Jeremiah - Tav
Twice Knightly Twice Knightly - Thug #12​
 
Two-Face watches the coin flip with bated breath. His wide eyes zeroes in on that coin like it's the only thing in the world that matters - or even the only thing in the world at all. He follows it as it flips and lands in Plan B's palm. His toes curl in his ruined shoes, and if it weren't for the fact that he was tied up like this, his fingers would be doing the same into tight, anxious fits. Felix's stare had lingered on Quiet for a moment - though likewise, he said nothing more. He merely turns back to face their tied-up bad guy, hands falling to his hips and resting as he starts speaking again.

"Come on..." he mutters in his gravelly voice, barely above a whisper. He didn't even seem to notice the knife as it was withdrawn. He sinks his teeth into his lip, practically snarling as he waits. "Come on!" he says a bit louder, practically a shout. His eyes flick up to Plan B's mask, then back to the hand. "Show it! Show it, coward! Show me! Show me!"

His underling has no chance to witness such an unraveling, however, because he's left reeling from the pistol whip to his face. The only thing that brings him back into reality so fast is the snapping of his nose, though the blood that followed was hardly something he even noted. He just shakily turns his head back up to face the gun and the man holding it.

"B-Bane!" he shouts before fully processing Frank's words. "Bane! Big Spanish guy! Wears that mask! You know?" It hasn't fully dawned on the man that these guys are from out of town, it seems. Or maybe it just slipped his mind thanks to the gun in his face. "H-he orchestrated the whole thing! Broke all of us out, bunch'a other crews! Said somethin' about takin' back what's ours! That-- that the strong were the ones who fought for it and lived!" Shaky eyes meet the gun once more before they meet Frank's piercing gaze. "B-but-- I thought that was a bunch'a shit, in case you were wonderin'...!"

DapperDogman DapperDogman FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla BarrenThin2 BarrenThin2 Jeremiah Jeremiah megar megar Cephrys Cephrys ​
 
Slowly the hand opens, fingers unfurling to reveal the glistening gold disc within. As the shadows of each digit creep away to let in enough light Plan B leans slightly, as if eager to get a look, but not eager enough to open his hand faster. The face of a stern looking man looks back at them, glinting on the golden face of the coin as the light finally exposes the result of the flip.

Heads.

The thumb over the man's eye slides away, letting him see once again as Plan B straightens his back slightly. A slow sigh escapes his lips, rasping slightly as it whistles through the man's disused throat. It stutters from his lips like a muted chuckle. Behind the mask the grin fades slowly. The coin re-enters his pocket and he stands up. After a moment he glances around, seeming to come back to the world from the intense moment of uncertainty.

His eyes rest on the thug and the man interrogating him for a moment, before he take a step away from Two-Face. He glances back down at the man's face for a moment, before leaning against the lamppost.

Seems he's going to abide the result, and let Two-Face keep his eye, but he's not making any moves let him down from his hanging position.

The masked man shoots an expectant glance to Quiet, then Felix. He lost a coin flip, didn't mean he was going to stop anyone else from doing what they wanted.

Twice Knightly Twice Knightly - Two-Face
FactionGuerrilla FactionGuerrilla - Quiet​
 

  • While she waited for Plan B to finish teasing Two-Face with the eyegouging threat, Quiet's gaze had turned towards the other interrogation happening. So there was a mastermind behind these riots- one masked Spanish "Bane". On top of that, it sounded like the riots didn't just consist of one singular gang. On the one hand, this meant they'd have to deal with way more groups- and most likely their leaders- but on the other, this hopefully signified the gangs weren't all organized together. In turn, word about the party shouldn't spread too fast, so an element of surprise could somewhat be maintained even with that botched firefight they stumbled through moments ago. Either way, they now had a concrete target to look for, and considering how the goon mentioned Bane's philosophy of the strong and weak, Quiet suspected the guy wouldn't exactly be hiding underground.

    Before Quiet could consider formulating a plan, she'd glanced back to see how Plan B react to the coin result. As she expected, he honored the coin result, though it seemed like he expected her to step in now. The brunette paused in consideration before unsheathing her knife again. The splotches on her eyes rematerialized as she leisurely sauntered over to the gang leader... then turned her knife and wiped the blade's two crimson-stained faces across Two-Face's suit, as if to remind him that his goons' deaths were on his hands. She shook the remaining few drops of blood off her knife, then sheathed it again.

    They'd left enough dead bodies here to leave a message, and she was almost certain none of his terrified henchmen would dare risk their own lives to break him out. There wasn't any reason to kill or maim their leader; the police could handle the rest after these riots were over. Besides, Ramlethal had promised him safety for cooperation; it'd be scummy to break their end of the deal. She glanced over to Felix, before shaking her head with a hum; she already knew he wanted to kill Two-Face, but a dead man spoke no tales. If the gangster somehow did get freed, he'd just end up propagating the same fear that allowed the group to scare off the criminals. There was a fair chance it'd also put the gangs on alert, but she was willing to take that risk if it meant they could weaponize their terror.

    Whether or not Felix heeded Quiet's suggestion, she turned to check the area for specific "supplies" that the others would consider mundane. While Frank had chosen to actively collect ammunition and weapons, the huntress scoured the street for empty magazines and swept them up. The best way to remain out of sight was via a distraction; the sound of an empty magazine clattering along the ground was a simple yet surprisingly effective way to divert a guard's attention.

    Once she'd finished her scavenging search, she turned to see if anyone was watching her, or at least could see her. Assuming this were the case, the girl gestured towards the overturned police car, as if to imply the others should ask where the police station was. With no real leads to go off of, their best bet was to head to the origin of this chaos, even if the cops had no information. Worst case scenario, if Tavish demonstrated he was too much of a liability to the others, they could haul his ass in- maybe for a favor or two.
 
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