Tonnage

Mr Z.

>>

“Kid! Where are you going?”

Tom looks back at 'Pipes' with a confused expression. “Aren't we going in?”

Gelcoat shakes her head, the air filter and goggles that are currently around her neck knock back and forth in the motion. “If they need us for something. For now, they just want a water cannon on this side of the main gates in case they need a non-lethal option to knock some lunatic on their ass.”

Burns nods from his position on the side of the truck by an open control panel. “If they have some kind of issue that the on-site emergency crew can't handle, then we follow a swat team in. They have the bulletproof gear and stab vests, not to mention guns of their own.”

Lace is laying out hoses with Putter as an ambulance and an emergency services truck that both carry the tag 'E-14' on their doors pull up, along with two additional police cruisers.

“But aren't we here to help?”

The call comes to him from one of the patrol cars, where a large man is getting out. He's chewing on a toothpick and is obviously carrying a significant amount of weight that is the result of not stepping away from the table as soon as he ought to.

“You are helping. You're helping to keep all these freaks in their hole.” He looks around, nodding his head with humor and respect at the fire crew and Tom. “You pick up the kid? The Comish'll be a fan.” He shakes his head as he steps up to the gate, lowering his voice. “Harkin, keep an eye on the kid. He's got history with some of these assholes, one way or another.”

The rugged old firefighter nods. “Jim said something about Croc. Dent I don't think will still be a problem. You know something I don't, Bullock?”

Stepping up to the gate, the larger detective in his trench coat and fedora presses a button by the gate, ringing a bell and getting the attention of a pair of armed guards about forty feet in. “Car 53, SWAT 2, and Engine 14 are on the scene if needed. I'm expecting an Additional SWAT van in a few minutes.” Then he turns back to Harkin, his voice barely above a whisper. “Crane killed the kid's folks. Might stop at arms and legs on that one, but I wouldn't lay money on it.”

Harkin looks back at the kid, shaking his head. “Thanks. Between Gotham Point and cleaning up after the bullshit at the hospital, I've barely had time to breath the last couple of days.”

Bullock nods. He understands, it's been a zoo everywhere.

Tom steps slowly towards the gate. “Are we really just going to sit out here?”

Bullock glances over. “You been trained and certified in dealing with the mental mud walls and basketcases in there?”

Tom shrugs. “No?”

“You a cop? Asylum orderly? Doctor that might have a connection with a patient or three?”

Tom is shaking his head. “No, of course not. I'm sixteen.”

Bullock nods. “Then you're staying your ass out here like the rest of us.” At Tom's look, Bullock sighs. “Kid, we don't go in until us going in can't make things worse anymore. We have to do this dance every few months. They lose somebody, there's a big fiasco, the Bats show up, and we all go home after vigilante justice gets applauded for no damn good reason.” He holds up a hand when Tom goes to speak. “I've been dealing with those damn furries in a professional capacity for longer than you've been alive. Trust me. They're a pain in the ass.”

Some kind of internal Public Address system kicks off at this time. The cops and the firefighters there feel their blood run cold at the manic voice.

“I've seen you looking at my marks, Bobby-Lynn.” The giggle that follows this is particularly nerve-wracking. “I saw you looking. Tracing them with your eyes.”

“Are you curious? What it would be like? To become part of my body forever? To be immortalized upon my flesh?”

“Make sure you keep moving, Bobby-Lynn. Make your mark worth my time. Make me earn it. I'll cut a little deeper for every minute you can stay away. I'll make that deal with you. I'll spill a little more of my own blood for every minute you make me work for yours.”

The low chuckle here has all the intent of a heart attack.

“I said to keep moving, Bobby-Lynn. I can see you. Pale, in the harsh lights of the infirmary. Are you infirm? Is that why you don't keep moving?”

“Are you hurt? Broken? Is there something I can do to make you more comfortable?”

The voice drops in volume, and the vicious undertone in it that was always present is cranked up to eleven.

“I do think it is only fair to point out something, Bobby-Lynn. You keep looking at the camera. I can see you doing it. But what you don't know, Bobby-Lynn is that I can see the camera too!”

Bullock is bellowing at the white-knuckled guards on the other side of the gate to open it, track down that damnable freak, and grease him, let him do it, whatever it takes as a muted scream rips out over the overheads. Then there is a clattering sound of plastic skittering across a tiled floor. Finally, the speakers go silent once more.

>>

B: Oracle, Zsasz got loose in the confusion. He's managed to get his hands on the warden's system control override tablet while it was logged into the system and he's hunting one of the nurses with the security overrides. I need to track it, triangulate...”

Oracle: Shut up, I know what I'm doing.

Oracle: I'm in. The asylum has its own tracking systems, and now that I have control of anything that still has power...

Oracle: He's cutting through the dispensary. He's going to catch her at the stairs to the second floor, they're locked and I don't...

Oracle: Never... ah, mind.

Spoiler: Hit him with the taser a few more times. Aim low.

Spoiler: I need medevac on the front stairwells, B. The area is not secure. He was looking to take his time, so we can get her stable-ish here. But it's deep, chest area. Time is not on her side.

Spoiler: (sound of conflict alert: file saved)

Orphan: (sound of conflict alert: file saved)

Spoiler: Keep it up and we'll find out if there's enough juice in a bat-zapper to pop your junk like a zit you fucking asshole.

Orphan: (Typed Into Phone) Will not leave til woman collected, Z better jailed. Area = bad. Not Secure. Near Dispensary. Near Infirmary. Near Stairwell. Near Exit.

Spoiler: (sound of conflict alert: file saved)

Orphan: (sound of conflict alert: file saved)

Spoiler: Some of these guys are on something.

Oracle: Symptoms?

Spoiler: Not Venom. Not stronger. Less pain, over-commit. Dumber. But they won't stay down.

Spoiler: You know what this feels like... Please don't tell me... that the asylum is playing around with PCP. Please don't tell me they are that F-ing stupid?!

Oracle: … Survey says ... Oh hell. B, she's right. It isn't exactly, it's some new drug that they've developed but the effects they are expecting mirror PCP and at the dosages they are putting out... Why they would use it on the inmates here is... This is criminal, B. And if I look at what happened here and then realize that the inmates would have been given their night medication almost an hour to the dot before this riot took off?

B: Well, if the warden knew about it and cleared it to happen anyway, he's paid for his crime. Zsasz showed his typical restraint in collecting that security disaster in tablet form. I told them...

B: Robin, get to them. I need to restore power, or there won't be any way to reestablish control. Half the emergency systems here have been sabotaged. Subtle work. But deliberate, the system-wide check was scheduled for next week.

B: Oracle, By now there will be emergency services outside. They are close to the entrance, between the lot of them they can get the woman out and keep the gate covered.

Oracle: Yes. Engine fourteen is just outside with Tom.

Robin: I am having difficulties due entirely to the incompetence of others, but your plans need to be informed of them.

R.Robin: Oh for fuck's sake...

Robin: There are three guard towers in the courtyard where there are now inmates who are armed with rifles and a seemingly inexhaustible supply of bullets. Before anybody will be able to get much past the front gate, this needs to be handled. So far my attempts at approach by stealth have been unsuccessful.

Oracle: B, he's gotten himself wedged against a shed and a wall to the botanical gardens. He's not going to get shot there, but there's a conga line coming around the corner to take a crack at him.

Robin: These fools are not a problem, I assure you. It's a combination of the rifles, the traditional color scheme I got stuck with, and the fact that my active camouflage was disabled when I made the foolish mistake of assuming the tower guards weren't complete morons. Though I agree with Spoiler. They are slower to take a hint than usual. Marginally. I suspect they are on something as well.

Jay-Bird: I love it. We're all gonna make him say it, aren't we? Tacit approval by way of a direct request for assistance from somebody that he hasn't already trained for a year.

B: Of course. Oracle, direct things as you need. Nightwing, when you get on site start with Jim, then go from there. Red Robin, get the sub here by remote. This is all a little too convenient. Hood, Stay on the emergency bands. Firefly has never been able to restrain himself during events like these, and with him loose it's only a matter of time.

B: Oracle, get a second opinion on this drug from Doc. Before I go to Jim I want her take on it.

Jay-Bird: Did he just get out of being the one to ask by having Oracle fucking do it?

Oracle: Looks like it. Everybody hop down a channel. I'm bringing him in. We'll see what your snipers make of him, Robin.

>>

Oracle: Tom!

Tom: Oh my god did you hear that is she okay!?

Oracle: For now, but she's hurt. Tom, I know you aren't looking for fights. But we could use your help. Things in here are way out of control. Can you come in knowing we need you to bring the pain?

Tom: Consider it brought.