Fright Of The Crane [VerMillion, Penguin]

Jon isn't the only one whose thoughts are influenced by the drive. The darkness of the night somehow makes it seem more familiar to her. She, like Jon, wasn't born in the city - though she doesn't like to admit to that. Instead she was born and raised in a small town in Kansas, of all places, and it was a lot darker at night there than it normally is in Gotham. But with the stars and moon obscured and the fact that, this not being one of the busier parts of Gotham, most of the lights that can be seen besides the headlights are off in the distance it reminds her of home.

She never did like the darkness when she was a child, though she does have several fond memories of heading home late at night after some activity that lasted well into the evening. She didn't mind the darkness so much then. In fact it felt rather warm and pleasant with her dad driving, her mom in the front seat and she squished in the back between her siblings - for some reason the smallest person always has to sit in the middle seat. Her father was a huge fan of jazz music, while her mother hated it and preferred pop - which, of course, her father couldn't stand. So they'd 'compromise' by listening to classical music and that became Heather's favorite, even though she more often pretends to be a fan of alternative rock.

And after daydreaming for some time, she finds that though she's gotten used to the silence of being with Jon it seems so empty in this car in comparison to her memory. So she reaches for the radio, watching him idly out of the corner of her eye to see if he'll immediately protest. When he doesn't she assumes that it's okay, not knowing that he's lost in his own thoughts. She tunes the radio to her favorite classical station and sighs quietly to herself when she sits back. Yeah, that's a lot better!

At least until Jon flicks the radio station back off. She frowns. While she's not normally one to argue with him about anything too strongly, when something is important enough to her she will. And sometimes it even works. So after a few more moments of silence she turns the radio back on, hoping that he'll let her have the music if she's willing to push the point. Instead he flicks it off and glares at her. "You don't like it? But it's relaxing! And it's classical - doesn't everyone like classical sometimes?" she protests, before reaching forward to turn it back on again.

It's at that moment when something hits their car, hard. She screams in surprise as glass shatters and things go flying, though her seat-belt keeps her in place and largely unharmed. "What's going on?" she asks when the initial impact is over, twisting in her seat to look behind them. But the question is largely rhetorical as the other vehicle seemed to come out of nowhere and it's not like this road is very well-traveled - it's unlikely that wasn't on purpose. She glances back at Jon: shaken, a bit scared, trying really hard not to panic, but otherwise just fine.

Dr. Crane remained surprisingly calm throughout the incident for someone that had just had their car deliberately rammed. It was no accident; the lights were off on that car it was a stake out. His mind raced over the possibilities of what was going on. VerMillion seemed unharmed by any glass that may have made it to her side. Even if it had cut her she was in too much of a panic to notice. His gaze kept going from the road to the rearview and finally to her leaving her seat to look behind them. “I don’t know…Sit down.” He scolded her to stay seated; something told him this wasn’t over.

He just caught the front end of the car as it steadily approached again and gave them another hard nudge. Dr. Crane was more prepared now, turning the wheel as he needed to keep the car from swiveling out of control. Finally gaining control again he kept the car straight and slammed on the gas. They needed to get back to the hideout…now. Light flashed to VerMillion’s passenger side, there was another vehicle. Dr. Crane kept the car steady trying to move it slowly away from the other one while maintaining his speed. Just as he put some distance between the car on her side, the metal scratched against the car that had rammed him previously. He lifted his arm to shield himself from the sparks that flew and tried to remain in the middle of them, blaring down the road.

They were sandwiched between two vehicles; there was no doubt in his mind now that it was an ambush. He had his immediate speculations, but Dr. Crane had many enemies. He kept the car at its current speed as the two raced beside them. VerMillion was clearly panicking now in the seat beside him, unfortunate; he didn’t even have the time to enjoy it with what was going on. He had been prepared for an ambush to happen for some time now, but he didn’t expect it to happen here. A man in the passenger seat of the car to the left of them popped out of his window and sat on the sill with an automatic weapon. Dr. Crane Reached over to VerMillion, keeping the car as straight as he could. “Get down!” He shouted pressing down onto the curve of her back so she’d lean forward. It was probably the first time any panic had leaked into his voice at all through this.

Suddenly the other car pulled forward more. Dr. Crane did the best he could to keep evenly between the cars. His mind was racing, trying to come up with any plan on the spot. He could, that’s what he was good at, changing plans in a moment. His thoughts leaked through the various objects he had on him and in the car. Right about then the front of the car began to be littered with gun fire. The bullets popped, rattled and ricocheted inside the engine before smoke started to slide out from the hood. The cables underneath his feet suddenly became looser, like they had no effect. He pressed and pressed at the gas but it wasn’t working anymore. The car began to coast on what speed it had left and the gunman from the left car had slipped back inside. Slowly the car came to a stop through its sputters and coughs of smoke through the engine. There was nothing he could do.

Just as the wheels stopped turning below them the car was immediately surrounded by well-armed and well armored men. This was suddenly becoming clearer and clearer in his mind. This was the work of the Penguin; he had finally caught up with him. This was expected, Penguins retaliation at some point, in this manner however he was not ready for it. Back at his hideout he had prepared with plenty of precaution, unfortunately thinking about any of that wouldn’t help him right now. Although he couldn’t see the Penguin through the several men that surrounded the car, there was no doubt in his mind that these were his men, and he was here.

As the men flanked the car he heard the demand echo through the dust for them to remain still in the car. “VerMillion…Calm down” He spoke calmly and slowly. She was still bent over from the gun fire and could move a bit more loosely without them seeing. “Reach into the glove compartment and grab onto my modified dart gun. There should be three charges behind it, load it.” His voice remained slow and monotone trying to make sure she didn’t panic. Dr. Crane lifted one hand from the wheel slowly so his assailants could see what he was doing. His other hand quickly slipped down and reached to the back of his shirt to grab his mask. This was a very difficult situation but a few things about it were made immediately clear. If they were wanted dead the crash would have been a lot worse, and instead of riddling bullets into the engine it would have been into the car itself. There was no reason to fear a lethal shot…one wouldn’t be fired.

With the realization he had to do his next moves quickly. “VerMillion get out of the car on my side…” His voice remained calm and soothing so she could listen to what he said and follow directions. She may have had to crawl to get out on his side, but it would eliminate the possibility of someone grabbing her on the right. Ignoring the now immediate order he clicked the switch on his mask and pulled it over his head. Carefully he grabbed the door handle and pushed it open with his foot to step out. Of course he expected VerMillion to follow and stay close to him.

The darkness and dust were mixed into the air swirling around the Scarecrow in his element. He lifted his hands to show that they held nothing but his own presence. In this situation he had hope at least half of them would fear him just from his reputation alone. They had every reason to be scared, even with guns aimed for his body. The Scarecrow stood and took them in one by one through the gaze of his mask, his muscles were loose and he seemed quite relaxed for the situation. “Are you scared?” The distortion cracked out from the mask while he turned his palms slightly to the air.

There was an uncomfortable shift in a couple of the men when the Scarecrow got out of the car, an expected move according to the boss but it didn't make the thugs any more reassured to see the creepy mask and consider the possibilities. Oswald had carefully picked the men though, half of them saw the question as a challenge, the rest had only to think of Oswald's own threats to know who they should be more afraid of today. They weren't allowed to kill Jon but they could sure be killed themselves if they dared to screw this up or run away.

There's no such thoughts for Terry, thoughts are not his thing and he's having great fun tonight. Having positioned himself behind one of the men near the back of Jon's car he grins when the Scarecrow gets out, perfect excuse to shoot the guy! Too bad it's only with a taser. He smoothly pulls it from it's holster and fires at Jon "He said don't move Strawman!" he's almost laughing.

That snaps out the slight hesitation or any idea of waiting for orders, a couple of the men even laugh, making light of the situation and as a result reassuring others in the process as one goes to taser VerMillion as well, low threat or not they'd rather she were on the ground twitching amusingly.

Oswald's car remains quiet, with the windows down they can distantly hear shouting but it's the laughing that makes Oswald frown. A little professionalism would be nice but even Linsey and Mike in the car with him exchange a few words in Russian which basically amounts to Linsey losing a bet over Terry being the first one to shoot. Ten dollars is exchanged before Oswald loses his patience with the lot of them and grabs the radio, tapping into speakers on the men around Jon's car. Typically used for turning one man into a walking speaker to issue commands to the group it's not hard for Ozzy to just use them all at once, though he's careful not to include the men hidden by the building and those in his own car "Hello Dr. Crane. Did you really think you could hide from me, Jon?" it was a good time for gloating.

Heather's breathing is ragged as she stands next to Jon, eyes darting around rapidly as if trying to keep her eyes on everyone at once. There's so many of them... Her natural inclination to freeze up tries to kick in, but she manages to hold it back. Were she here alone she most certainly would be unable to do anything, but with Jon here to both help her and give her something more than herself to worry about, she forces herself to keep moving.

Though she's caught by surprise when Jon suddenly moves so quickly and kicks her in the stomach. Fortunately, they'd practiced pretty much that very thing, so she's able to absorb that blow better than she might have. It still hurts a lot, though when she finds herself knocked back into the car she realizes instantly why he did it. Though most of her mind isn't really functioning on the conscious level at the moment - she's acting much more on instinct.

And her instinct is telling her that while she's definitely safer in the car, she still can't consider herself to actually be safe. Nor can she make any assumptions about how long being in the car will be a good idea. So she immediately rolls onto her belly and then shifts her legs so that she's crouching on the floor of the car - as low as she can be and yet still be poised to move quickly if she has to. She has the dart gun clutched carefully in her hands, ready to aim and shoot it at the first sign that she needs to.

And yet, though she isn't aware of it, she's shaking like a leaf from the sheer amount of effort it takes for her to keep herself from freaking out. She simply can't afford to do that right now - what if Jon loses this fight because of her? She'd never forgive herself for that!

She hears someone talking over a loudspeaker, but though the voice has a ring of familiarity to it she can't place it immediately if only because she has too much else on her mind at the moment. Like breathing, for example; she has to keep breathing and watch carefully for any signs that she should be doing anything else.

The Scarecrow kept a close eye on his surroundings as his fingers continued to use the car door as cover. It was apparently that he couldn’t use it to cover his backside and therefore remained aware of the men behind him. They had certainly came prepared, gas masks, full body armor, and they had a full arsenal of weapons. From their behavior it seemed as if they weren’t going to use anything lethal. Penguin wanted his revenge to be carried out in another way. While keeping a close eye on the men around him his body shifted slightly away from the car door while still keeping it under his cover. The last thing he wanted to do was leave himself venerable to be pinned in between the door and the car.

His main focus remained on the most hostile of the men, this mindless animal that Penguin had sent to get him and to call him out. Through the darkness of his mask he took some satisfaction on the reaction that the dog had bled to him after his taunt. The man was far too easily shaken; it would be the end of him. “Your fear will be your end…” The distortion cracked from the mask jumbling his last word. “It will not be from I. The Penguin can put down his own dog.” The voice distortion rolled into a dispersed laugh. No, he wouldn’t toss this man into the sweet embrace of oblivion, but he would accept the chance to drag him to the edge of it.

His fingers felt movement from the frame of the door. VerMillion was moving inside. If she was moving that meant that she was alright or at least recovering from the blow she had taken. For now it was best if she stayed in the car and he did what he could to keep the focus on himself. It wasn’t very difficult as the men took their pause around him. It wouldn’t be very wise to take their eyes off The Scarecrow.

Things were going well for the moment considering everything that had happened. There would be no denying that the situation looked very bleak. The Scarecrow wasn’t a fool, he was intelligent and knew when he was in a bind that may mean he’d have to get out of it later than sooner. The way he had been attacked matched his intelligence…It was a good move Mr. Cobblepot. The man may have been able to trap him in this swarm of men but it didn’t change the type of man The Penguin was. He was obsessed with a false cause…paper…and that’s all it would ever be.

A familiar sound shot off through the air as he saw a man advance closer from the circle he stood in. Reflexively he leapt to the side, using part of the car for cover. It narrowly missed his shoulder and neck, he actually felt the strings for a moment. The man had fired a tazer. The realization hit him rather hard as psychology took its toll on the others. And he heard three more shots come in succession of one another. It would have only taken one shot for many others to nervously shoot off their own. Each tazer gun had two prongs that would shoot out for each one tazer. That was 6 chances to hit him immediately.

Luckily he avoided two rolling his body to the side just trying to avoid wherever they were coming from. Just as he thought he might have obtained a chance to slide over the car his body stiffened. The Scarecrows jaw locked from underneath the mask, he couldn’t utter a sound as every muscle in his body tensed. The next thing that came to his face was the dirt that covered the area around them. Dust went into his mouth as he fell but through the shock he was unable to spit it out let alone take a breath. A sharp pain hit came to his jaw through the electrifying feeling. His mask had taken a rough hit and was partially damaged.

Words came into the air but they couldn’t register in his mind, nothing could register except the intensity of the pressure around his body.

Several of the thugs take Jon's words to Terry to heart as a reminder of what Oswald promised to do to them if they screw up. Terry though is too cocky to care what Jon says in this case. Yeah, the boss has roughed him up a few times for over stepping the mark but he's never come to truly believe that the little guy means it. The comparison to a dog is quite accurate, only instead of getting whacked with a newspaper he gets broken bones and instead of treats he gets nights like this. He overestimates his importance and underestimates his boss's rage and one day it probably will get him killed but Terry can't see that coming.

Oswald smiled as he saw Jon fall and once more got on the radio to his men "Get him out and contained then get the girl and move onto phase two" he shoots a smug little smirk at Mike and Linsey as he gets out of his car at last "Time to join the party"

The men were quick to move when Jon fell, a couple held back, waiting to hit him again if he got back up but as two more move towards him Terry shoves one out the way and takes over himself, stamping a boot down to pin the doctor down before going to hit him in the head with the head with the butt of his gun. His aim is to knock Jon out for he must be unconscious during the plan at some point and he'd be less trouble if it's done right away. The other thug close to him moves to steal Crane's mask and toss the creepy thing away before he moves in with handcuffs.

Meanwhile, with Jon seemingly under control there's more thugs to focus on Heather. The one who'd been reaching through the windshield quickly recoils with a string of curses as he feels the dart hit and he quickly rips the thing out even if it doesn't do much good "She got me with a dart! That stupid little b- !" he doesn't have a chance to finish his words before the closest man to him whacks him in the back of the neck with a gun and quickly disarms him before handcuffing him to the bumper of the car and leaving him there. Losing a few men to fear toxin had been an accepted risk but the easiest way they could think to keep those men from endangering the mission (And themselves and others or whatever) was to knock out the infected and contain them until they could be dealt with afterwards.

The man was left to build his fears in his unconscious world and paid no attention to, their target was Heather. A quick hand signal from one of the men by the side of the car has another man climbing onto the hood noisily as one thug more stealthily crouches by the side of the car, waiting until another quickly pulls the drivers door open wide before stealthy thug shoots round and fires another taser into Heather's hidey hole.

Oswald watches the commotion from afar still, slowly closing the gap at a casual walk with Mike and Linsey flagging him as he speaks into the radio again "Start getting us access to the the building" there was no need to state which men he meant, they all knew the plan but a polite and untroubled "Yes, sir" responds through the radio as Mort and his younger accompanying thug finally move from hiding by the warehouse and begin to suss out the security.

Jon should be proud that he'd encouraged Oswald to bring his best just to bring him down a few pegs rather than just the usual rank and file thugs. Formerly a hitman with an expertise in sneaking in and setting up accidental deaths and mysterious disappearances Mort would probably have made a fine cat burglar if he hadn't considered stealing lives more of an interesting challenge to get away with. A very warped and grim man with hobbies in forensics and anatomy he made enemies of some former employers who only managed to put him out of the game rather than kill him before most fortunately Cobblepot discovered his knowledge valuable and his employers expendable.

It doesn't take long for the brave toxin to take effect, especially since the dose in the dart was probably meant to be enough for even a large person, and Heather is quite petite - easily less than half the weight of some of Ozzy's bigger thugs. Though her first thought after it kicks in, is that her toxin-less self is an idiot. Why is she here under the steering wheel where she can't move very easily? Sure, it limits the number of angles she can get attacked from, but she's also trapped herself by going in here.

When she'd shot herself with the dart, she'd been hoping that it would clear her head and allow her to see a way out of this. Instead, it's cleared her head and allowed her to see that there's no way out of this. But that's okay - while Jon had realized pretty quickly that the people attacking them didn't mean to kill them, she hadn't really noticed the signs of that. Yet now that fear is foreign to her, the fact that tasers mean that they're not wanting to kill them - or at least not immediately - is rather obvious.

Still, her hand grips the dart gun. If they're going to take her, even alive, she intends to go down as unwillingly as possible. And as terrible as a spot this is to be in if she's trying to get away, it's a decent spot for her to fight back from given that she only has one dart left now. She's a terrible shot, after all, but it will be near impossible for anyone to sneak up behind her or attack from any great distance. And she intends to get this dart into someone if she possibly can.

Hearing someone on the hood, she doesn't really pay that much attention. For all she knows it's the same guy she just darted enacting his fears - she didn't see what his fate was after he pulled back his hand. Whatever is going on up there doesn't matter to her unless it appears in that narrow bit of the car she can see. So she hardly misses seeing the driver's side door flung open as they intended, and her dart gun is ready.

Unfortunately, she's proved right about the main drawback of this spot - the lack of mobility - when she sees a hand holding a taser pointed at her. She quickly fires her dart gun at it, hoping to hit the arm of the man holding the taser, but it all happens so fast that she'll later be unable to remember whether she got hit by the prongs of the taser before or after she fired the dart gun. And she'll also be unable to be sure if her dart ever hit anyone, as only an instant after getting hit by the taser, she suddenly feels her entire body go rigid. She's never been hit by a taser before, and she can't say that she particularly enjoys the experience.