Gotham Robbery in F Minus
Roleplaying Log: Gotham Robbery in F Minus
Participants
IC Details
Synopsis:

A bank robbery! Silent interloper and Iron Mannot object.

Other Characters Referenced: Iron Man, War Machine
IC Date: November 15, 2019
IC Location: A bank in Gotham
OOC Notes & Details
Posted On: 15 Nov 2019 22:09
Rating & Warnings:
Scene Soundtrack: [* ]
NPC & GM Credits:
Associated Plots

Colin was sitting in his truck with his feet kicked up upon the dash and a scuffed old cell phone pressed to his ear. Today had at least been somewhat productive, he'd laid the groundworks for a new Gotham branch but had still yet to quite work out the finer details of financing with the bank. Of course, he probably would have had it done by now if he wasn't on hold. Again. For the tenth time this call. Sighing, he let his arms drop to his side, the phone kicking out a jaunty little chiptune.

Click.

"Hello again Mr. Knight. Sorry to put you on hold for so lo-"

"Sorry? Yer sorry mate? Well that's good to hear."

"My apologies sir. Would you like to lodge a complaint about being put on hold for so long?"

"Yes I bloody well would."

"Please hold while I transfer you!"

It took every ounce of willpower he had to not hurl his phone through the windscreen, the man instead biting the back of his hand to barely suppress the scream of rage he felt rising within his chest. This was asbsurd! He would have had everything sorted by now!

Another ten minutes passed, at this point Colin had his head down upon his steering wheel, gently bashing his head upon it to the rythm of the Atari-esque hold music. "Hello sir, this is the complaints department. I understand you had an issue with being put on hold?"

"Yes. Yes I did."

"Okay sir, I just need to get your detai-… Sorry sir, we've got an incident here."

"… Seriously?"

"Y-yes sir." Colin strained his ears to listen to the background. He could hear the shattering of glass and the blaring of alarms. Just what the bloody hell was happening?

* * *

With visions of conflict echoing through the mind and the accompanying dreams that all culminate into an event that refuses to leave following some chance encounter with like-hearted people, one of Gotham's quiet wanderers shuts out that all too familiar feeling that she's missed a meal. More important things to be doing. Her ears pick out the sounds of something that might need her attention ahead.

She runs, and fast at that, leaning forward too far for most to keep their balance but it helps her force speed and to tuck into a roll so that when she arrives where the alarm is sounding, she isn't in sight of those inside. She steals a furtive glance, tilting her head back to expose nearly nothing about her head, getting a good idea of who is liable to resort to harming whom in that instant before timing her entrance when no one is watching. They might realize the door has been operated, but the operator is nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Usually suiting up looked cool. It was one of the perks of having suit of powered armour, yet trying to do so in the cab of a pickup truck was hardly a dignified affair. First was the undersuit, a black almost wetsuit like arrangement of skin contacting electrodes and artificial muscles that Colin had to squirm and wriggle his way into. Not easy in such a confined space with his foot striking the horn a couple of times as he tried to twist into the damn thing.

Still, after a short while he was in, even if it had caused him to get a bit of a sweat on in the process.

Next was the armour panels, graphene, titanium and carbon nanotube plates that were *meant* to just bolt and self assemble into place. Meant to was the key, as he struggled with the latching mechanisms, the back of the suit snarling up into his seatbelt.

Meanwhile, the bank was pure chaos. A large black van had rammed through the front of the building, with a group of masked and armed men spilling out, shouting and pointing their weapons at both the civilians and the bank tellers alike, demanding everything in the registers while another crew had snuck around back to break into the vault itself.

Back at the truck, Colin had finally managed to get free of his own seatbelt, sliding his helmet onto his head and blinking as the HUD flickered into life, tracking his eye movements as the diagnostics scrolled past.

BATTERIES: OK

SENSORS: OK

ACTUATORS: OK

WEAPONS: OK

ALL SYSTEMS NOMINAL.

"Aha!"

* * *

Once she had gotten a better look inside, the silent wanderer surveys the trouble. Every one of them with guns. Most would shoot before thinking about what happens. Only one who would hesitate until strongly encouraged. The others would need to be disarmed or disabled immediately. Too far spread out to reach them all in time. The wanderer prefers all in time, all in one movement. Maybe if she hadn't missed meal, but that's not relevant to now.
The van door opposite the hostage crew opens and shuts noisily, prompting a low level of alert and someone being sent to check it out. Of course they check it out, gun ready, pointed to cover corners, and finds no one there. At least not on ground where he expects and where he points the gun.
It's the roof of the van that the attack comes from, the silent interloper bodily knocking the gunman over, hand grasping and removing the weapon while the other clams over his mouth to prevent surprised crying out or grunt for the instant that the breath leaves his lungs, then rapidly delivers a considerably light punch for the knockout effect that follows, all in one very smooth and perfectly timed motion.
Part of that motion is getting the unconscious body under the vehicle with weapon set gently at his side.
One down…

* * *

Colin stepped out of the truck, swinging the door opening aaand… feeling the leather of his seat rip from under him. Muttering expletives under his breath and something about having to call someone to re-upholster that, he gave his plasma thrusters a quick test blast, both to get them warmed up and to burn away any of the excess car seat from his suit. Just as he was about to take off though, a kid ran around the corner!

"Are you Iron Man?!"

Colin was unsure of how to respond to that, staring at the poor boy for a moment beneath his polarised visor. "Uuuh, no. No I'm not. I'm the other one."

War Machine!?"

"Not him either. Sorry kiddo. Hey, why aren't you in school?"

"Some scary guy wearing a mask tried to burn it down!"

"Wow this city sucks. Shit-" Oop. "Okay never repeat that last part."

"What part?"

"Shit. That part. Never say that word, it's bad, okay? Waaait… aaah damnit."

"Shit!"

"Nonono! Bad!"

"Shiiiit! Thank you Iron Man! Good luck with the bank!"

The kid ran off, luckily in a direction away from all the carnage that was happening leaving Colin to finish setting up. Hey, silver lining right? At least he wouldn't get an earful from the kid's parents for accidentally teaching a kid how to swear.

* * *

With one of the trigger-puller gunmen down, the interloper peers from beneath the van to get a view of the others. One calls out regarding the checking on of noise, and hears no response. This annoys him, and he calls again, setting two more on the task of what not to do in a horror movie setting. Two more head toward the dreaded behind-the-van scene to try and figure out what is taking so long, albeit with better tactics. One point man, the other covering. That leaves four, three of which are trigger-pullers.
As the point man gets close enough to round the corner, he too finds nothing! But he does not also succumb to a roof-sourced assault. His partner moves in when there is no evident trouble, though they do stoop to look under the van and find a familiar and unconscious face. The cries of anguish that follow and the profanity are covered by more noises. Guns dropping to the floor. Bodies following those sounds. They look and find they are two out of three left standing of the robbery crew. The third, their less than enthusiastic partner, the new guy. He looks baffled. He points to the van and says that it went behind there. Naturally their investigation turns up nothing helpful. They decide, vocally that Batman must be around. And then the two are yanked beneath the van.
The new guy considers his options, and decides that screaming and running are good enough.

* * *

WOOOOSH…

CLANK!

Colin was not anywhere near as stealthy or silent as Cassandra. In fact, he probably couldn't have been louder if he tried, landing hard onto the pavement which cracked into shards beneath his heavy boots in a flurry of concrete dust and plasma thruster wake right outside the front entrance. The remaining goons inside the bank snapped over, frozen in place as this hulking great big battlesuit quite literally just crashed the party.

"Hello there! I would like to lodge a complaint with management!" came a surprisingly jovial British accented voice distorted by a slightly crackling loudspeaker. Two of them turned to fire at this new arrival, shouting something indistinct as they emptied their magazines. Colin just looked down for a moment as the rounds spanked off his armour as though the 9mm rounds were mere raindrops.

Raising his arm, he fired a taser at the first, then closed in on the second, sweeping his leg out, flipping him end over end before tazing him too, just for good measure.

"Iron Man! Shoot him! Shoot Iron Man!"

"Oh for crying out loud!"

* * *

Three sleeping under van, the remaining awake changed into sleeping thanks to… something. The silent girl is unsure what to make of it. Suit of armor is nothing new but this is different. It moves in a way that most armor does not. It thrums. Subtle vibrations catch her eye. Her hand rests on a spot at her abdomen for a second as she integrates herself among the now completely safe hostages that were instructed to seat themselves against the row of tellers. Mild dismay plays as she finds some blood. So now hungry and injury aggravated again. The red stain barely shows against the dried brown.
The actual hostages can tell she is not really one of them, but several managed to catch sight of her in motion when the armed ones fell. Not that the silent girl is overly concerned with what they have seen or what they think. She's too busy losing a fight with consciousness.

* * *

The big suit of power armour wordlessly stomped on over to one of the tellers. "So…" He finally said sounding perhaps a little out of breath and leaning on the counter, which gave a rather concerning creak under the suit's weight. "Who do I speak with to lodge a complaint?" It was safe to say that after seeing all of that the poor woman at the desk wasn't exactly in any state to respond with anything more than a shaky stammer as she stared into Colin's dark visor.

Out of the corner of his eye Colin spotted another one of the would be robbers trying to make a run for the door. He raised his arm again, though this time barely looking away from the person at the desk as he fired off the tazer yet again, the wire thudding into the criminal's back and sending him instantly sprawling onto the ground.

He was about to say something else, likely something about how he didn't think that this bank was the right fit for a branch of his company when he noticed the blood. Did those bastards manage to land a hit on someone? He instantly jogged on over, flipping up his visor and softening his tone to seem a little less intimidating. Or at least, as unintimidating as someone in a one tonne battlesuit could be.

"Hey. You alright there?"

Stupid question.

"Are you hit?"

* * *

Drifting from in to out, back in, then out, the scruffy looking girl watches the armor suit near her with one difference from when she looked at it before. The exposed head. Just that much is sufficient to give her enough information to have no concern whatsoever over what is to happen next around her. She relaxes, and her march toward a need to sleep finally arrives at the end of that journey.
Reportedly not a shot got off apart from the weapons that opened fire on the armor suit, and a quick examination of the abdomen reveals the quiet one has received medical attention, bandaged over some kind of wound. But then there appear to be scars surrounding that. Big ones made by extremely large guns, with strange spreading patterns. Blade marks too. She's seen more injury than many war veterans. The scars go beyond that area. Pretty much anywhere that isn't her head or her hands is marked by the touch of a weapon.

* * *

Colin blinked at seeing the scars, not to mention how she seemed to have gotten tagged by something that *wasn't* a bullet before. Still, seeing how this "quiet one" was seemingly fading in and out of consciousness as well as bleeding all over the place he didn't have time to really put too much thought into what happened before.

He held a finger up as if to say "one second" and darted off to retrieve a first aid kit from the wall in one of those safety "break glass to open boxes". Deciding it was quicker to just rip the damn thing off the wall and tear it open he soon ran back over, even kicking out a little controlled burst from his thrusters to both arrest his momentum and give him a little bit of an increase to his pace. Necessary? Probably not. Cool looking? Absolutely.

he then knelt down, ejecting the power armour gloves from his wrists and did his best to try and patch up what had come undone dressing wise, as well as re-disinfect the wound. Sure, he was no doctor but he was at least competent at first aid. That mandatory companywide training was coming in useful today!

* * *

Examining the girl's wound, it's from a gunshot probably. A very fresh gunshot compared to the dozens that are visible, and treated well, no signs of infection, but it's recent and she seems have a knack for opening it up again rather than letting it mend. Not one to take doctor's orders. Her head tilts forward and watches when the disinfectant is applied to her, the slightest skip of her breatht he only sign she even notices it's happening from a tactile perspective. She remains still for it. She also remains still for the exit wound in back, blearily moving as urged.
The calibre of the weapon that made the wound, much scarier than a 9mm, but it was a clean hit.

* * *

"Jeeesus. Someone really did a number on you. Alright, just hold still. You'll be right as rain." Colin did what he could, mostly just carefully repatching over what had previously been done before. At least the work done previously looked professional enough, lessening his worry that this girl was walking around with a ticking timebomb of an internal injury. He tried to make smalltalk as he finished up repacking and redressing the gunshot wounds, both to try and perhaps make the situation a little less awkward and to assess whether the girl might be in shock or not. "You really shouldn't be walking around with a hole in you like this y'know. You have a name?"

* * *

No name seems to be forthcoming. No pocket contents. Phone, wallet, card, keys, mementos, nothing. She's asleep again though when the search for anything to help identify anything about her comes. Then she's awake again, looking at the armored figure with a neutral expression. Anything but languid. She seems to be either unconscious or alert, if perhaps malnourished to make alert less effective.
It's then she makes her attempt to get up.

* * *

Colin wasn't so rude as to be rooting through the girl's pockets! He instead did his best to clean his hands off with another one of the disinfectant wipes before putting his gauntlets back on, which clicked and whirred as they slid back and locked into place.

He wasn't even looking at first as the girl tried to get back to her feet, but immediately rushed back over to support her, or if not that at the very least catch her. "Whoa whoa whoa. Probably not a good idea. Most of what's meant to be internal is now external after those stitches flew open, probably best to take it easy, no?"

* * *

Effectively interposed against, the girl stops her upward getting momentum. now examining the rather bulky gauntlets that have come in contact with her, resting her hand over one to compare, a meaningful frown creasing her otherwise neutral expression when she tries to find the pattern. The link between each movement, and it's really hard to find. Her fist makes a clonk sound as it strikes against it, but her face shows no anger or even displeasure to precede the punch, and no damage seems to have been suffered. Least of all to her knuckles. There's another clonk as she hits again from a different angle, different spot.
Her face is showing… curiosity?

* * *

Colin tilted his head, furrowing his brow slightly. "Really?" He said, not sounding angry either but more slightly confused that someone, especially someone in her position, would try and take a swing at the guy in the big bulky metal suit. Neither the first or second clonk would really do anything nor would they reveal that much. She was just knocking her fist into a big, cold, completely unyielding well armoured thing. "If you're trying to cause me any problems with that, don't bother. Those gauntlets can take a fifty cal point blank without so much as a paint chip." His tone was a little firmer as he said that, though not at all unkind or threatening sounding.

"I still haven't gotten a name." He paused. "Do you uh, can you even understand what I'm saying? Do you speak English?"

* * *

The fist-clonking seems to be mostly centered around the gauntlet portion, and the puncher seems more interested in watching every part of the interaction between fist and armoured hand surface. She isn't putting much behind it, but she also isn't responding to the questions. At least until her head turns to see the lightly baffled face of the armoured man. Puzzlingly, she meets her fist to the palm of the gauntlet. No force behind it really. She planted it there.
She tries to get up again.

* * *

Colin wasn't really sure what to make of all this, though this time didn't stop her from getting up, instead he was just basically there trying to act as support as she got to her feet, being careful so that she didn't simply fall over.

The clonking really didn't reveal all that much, at least, apart from that it was indeed well armoured and rather mechanically complex. Also that there was a tazer barb launcher on the back of each hand, one of which had fired both its shots and one that had a single shot remaining.

Colin was thinking along the lines that this girl might in fact be deaf, hence the lack of answers to his questions. Not knowing sign language (despite taking several classes in it thanks to the nagging of HR) he decided to try the next best thing. He reached into an armoured box on his waist and pulled out a mobile phone, flicked it on and opened up the map. He scrolled to the local hospital first, before zooming out and gesturing in a way that he hoped would get across a "hey do you need to go anywhere or should I take you to the hospital to get checked up?" question.

* * *

The girl, silent so far, not really registering much by way of comprehension nor pain during the moments she was awake for the attention to her wound, only stops to glance at the device for long enough to determine she is being shown a map, then a glance at armoured man by face, and her response? Covering the phone's screen with her hand. She seems steady enough, at least, and she is on her way out, almost out of sight when the police lights arrive. Then she is moving quickly again in a manner that suggests she wants nothing to do with said police, evading their attention.

* * *

He nodded seeing her hand on the screen. He didn't stop her as she walked away, though, he still looked a little concerned. After all, not a few moments ago she had been lapsing in and out while he tried to deal with what looked like a hit from a rifle. Still, what with all those other scars he had at least got the feeling that this was *probably* something she could walk off. It wasn't like he was going to go chasing after her anyhow.

He instead just gave her a smile and a wave, before seeing the police.

Well damn. This was going to get complicated. He saw now why she was so eager to make an exit. Still, he himself made no effort to make some quick escape but instead lowered his visor to maintain at least some element of anonymity.

"Hooo-lyy shit. Good thing you were in town Iron Man."

I'm not-!… Argh. Fuck it. Okay, whatever, sure. Look, can you wrap it up here? Nice response time by the way."

"Just a few moments Mr Stark, what exactly happened here?"

"…are you serious?"

"Absolutely sir."

"Since when did Tony Stark have an english accent mate? Look, I just came in to try and sort something with the branch, heard gunshots, and I happened to be in the right place at the right time. No one was killed, no one was injured and nothing was taken. I made sure of it."

"Well sir, I'm going to have to ask you a few questions about thi-"

"Ahbubbubbub. Are you really going to waste Mr Stark's time? Thought not. No comment! Toodlelooooo!"

Without even waiting for a reply, Colin fired up his thrusters aaand shot out the door.

LATER THAT EVENING

Colin kicked back on the sofa, casually flicking through the television channels until something caught his eye. It was that damn bank!

"Breaking news tonight at nine, a break in at the Gotham central bank was stopped earlier today by none other than Iron Man.-"

"What."

"-Mr Stark refused to comment further on the matter apart from simply stating that he was simply "in the right place at the right time."

"Gotham can officially bite my arse."

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