batwomans_gotham | Live by the sword, die by the sword.

Current Mood: stressed

Entry tags:

Live by the sword, die by the sword.

Flashing lights.

Running.

Panting.

It was now or never.

Over the fence, under the ditch. Bare feet hitting the ground, hard stone as black as night in this strange, dungeon-like city. The warden was yelling, the guards were after him, the strange magical lights were swirling and there was a dull honk that passed as some kind of alarm cry. He blinked, trying to fight off the last of the potion that they had forced him to take. Medicine, they called it. It blurred the mind and dulled feeling, it did not heal. Gave him quite a few wicked nightmares though, but he doubted it was merely the medicine that did that. This whole place, this city they called it, stank of evil. Rife with it. He suspected that it was Bavmorda's doing, but no one had heard of her name here. The last of her minions had sent him here to this odd dimension, away from his Sasha and his world. He had merely been happy for a few days, before it was taken from him like this. Only a few days of bliss. He had a family then, had a place. Madmartigan wasn't merely a rogue anymore, he was Home.

And now this. He was taken, wandering the streets, confused, and confined to this alleged house of healing. Asylum, they named it. It was no kind asylum. Crazy people walked the halls. Mad. Madder than he was, most of the time, though a few more weeks in there and it wouldn't just be a namesake.

And he had leapt at the chance to escape, he was good at escaping, he liked to think, though most of the time it took a helping hand, like old Willow. Some inmates had managed to create a ruckus and ran for it, and of course he ran along with them. He flew out of the mad place and ran pell-mell into the streets once more. It was here where he was caught the first time, anyway. Panting, he lay his back against a cool stone wall and slid into an alley, running his fingers through his sweaty, short hair. They had cut his long locks as soon as he had gotten in there, and he had put up quite fight and bitten a few arms in the process, but still, they had done it. He would have his revenge, he swore. They must be in league with those Bavmordite minions that had sent him there. To this horrible place.

Rough fingers clenched the sword that was stuck in his belt (or rather, a straightjacket strap). He had managed to get it from their keep, at least. A bit of luck in this unforgiving land.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

This was proving to be a very active night. Batwoman looked up from watching Harley's cab drive off as she caught the sound of the alarms from Arkham and hoped fervently that it wasn't the Penguin or Riddler or any of that ilk. Scowling behing her mask, she shot out a grappling hook and headed in that direction.

Madmartigan tried his best to calm down, of course he had no idea where to go much less an idea of where he was, but a few weeks in the Asylum gave him the meager knowledge that this place was called Gotham City, appropriate for its general look and feel. His heavy hand closed tightly around the pommel of his sword as he dashed down the alleyway and straight into a gaggle of thugs finishing some kind of arms deal.

"Ooh, youse shouldn't be heah," said one in a thick northern accent, grinning, the dim light bouncing off of his shaved head. "Let's gettim, boyse!"

There was a few flashes of light and suddenly the thugs were the ones running away, clutching slashed arms and legs, money and guns forgotten and bills flying everywhere. Sure, they had semi-automatics, but for some reason a sword scared them more tonight.

Madmartigan grinned and picked up the wads of bills, ignoring the guns. They were of a dark magic to him. "A bit of luck, finally." Of course, this made it look like he just robbed someone or was in the arms deal himself.

Behind him, Batwoman lifted an eyebrow behind her mask. The man was unknown to her. If not for the fact that he'd let those thugs live he'd already be on his way back to Arkham. Instead she crosses her arms and looms forbiddingly.

He felt the presence of another, just barely. His hands gripped his sword tighter, until he swallowed his fear and turned around, yelling a cry, brandishing the sword upwards. Madmartigan's eyes widened when he saw the looming figure before him, thinking she was a specter of evil or a monster. Without another second, he instinctively slashed towards her stomach.

She caught the blade with the prongs of her gauntlet and wrenched upward and to the side, the rest of her retaining that daunting stillness.

Madmartigan, being himself, refused to let go of the sword despite the tremendous pull and thus lost his footing, skidding along the ground with the force of it all. He grunted, yanking his sword back from the pull of her gauntlet.

"What are you?" he muttered under his breath as he tried to slice towards her head.

"The terror that flaps in the night," came the emotionless female growl as she blocked with a forearm and then aimed a kick at his knee. "Your darkest nightmare."

His eyes narrowed as he heard her response. Some kind of evil wraith, indeed. Probably not killable, and thus he ought to probably get out of this fight before he got in over his head. Though female, nonetheless. It brought a smirk to his face--perhaps he could have an advantage here. The thought was pretty much stopped when he realized he was trying too hard to figure out how the figure in front of him was female and a kick to the knee brought him to his senses. He yelled out in pain and grumbled a curse.

"I don't know, my nightmares are pretty dark," he said in a lighter tone, swinging his sword in his unusual, distinct style, and aiming towards her legs with a sweep. "But in my dreams, now that's a different story, sweets."

The words were dismissed as a diversionary tactic even as the heavy red cape swept down toward the sword, entangling it in kevlar-impregnated folds and then giving it an impressive wrench. Her other fist drove toward his face.

His hand was twisted roughly as the cape bore down upon the sword and yanked it out of his hands, clattering across the pavement of the alleyway, shining in the dim light. "Hey, that's not very--" A nice sucker punch to the face stopped the rest of his words and he stumbled backwards. Madmartigan spat, hoping she hadn't given him any loose teeth--not that the rest of his teeth were really in the best of health but still...

"I like a lady who can hold her own against my fighting skills," he grinned, diving along the edge of the wall to reach for his sword. "Haven't you ever heard of me? I'm the greatest swordsman in the world!" It was of course, a bluff beyond all reason but it felt good to say.

She kicked him in the ribs, then got the tip of her boot under the sword and launched it up into her hand. -Interesting delusion. Does he think he's Zorro or something?-

The blade flashed in the dim light, then arched toward a rooftop.

"A swordsman without a sword is only a man."

He cursed again, clutching his ribs and helplessly seeing his sword flying into the air.

"Well, a man is still a man, and say, I don't have anything to do this evening, perhaps we can stroll down to your tavern?" He grinned and swung his foot down in a sweeping kick towards her feet, despite the fact that it was armored.

"Are you some kind of knight, m'lady?"

The kick probably hurt his foot a little. Thankfully Batwoman had herself braced in such a way that she retained her footing, though it took her a moment to get her stabilizers settled. It was a little interesting to note that he had no idea who she was.

She started to crouch, only to blink as her armor suddenly stopped responding and she found herself crumpled to the scummy pavement of the alley. -What?-

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

"Wow, somebody just let of a @#$& of an EMG pulse," noted a random nerd across the city. "Everything just went out!"

He cursed a blue streak again when he hit his foot, he was expecting it but did it have to hurt that much? He blinked for a moment when suddenly she crumpled a few seconds after. Wow, some kind of latent power in his kick or what? It took him a moment to realize that all the candles and firelight had gone out of the city, and quite a long moment at that because it was so dark in this alley. Electricity, they called it, simple magic he called it. It still hadn't really sunk in that this was the future, or even if it did, that things worked a tad differently from his world.

"Ha! That is what you get for going up against me," he skirted to the side and retrieved his sword (which had ended up going quite a ways away). He leveled the point at the base of her neck, knowing full well that armor had its cracks.

"I was a Knight too, once." He smirked. "My name is Madmartigan, remember it well, m'lady." He sheathed the sword back into his shoddy straitjacket strap holder and prepared to walk away. He got a few steps before rolling his eyes. He hated being the hero lately, he used to be one but look where it had gotten him. Sticking one's neck out for others was a good way of getting it chopped off, the old saying went. But something in him refused to let her simply lie there for no reason, even though he had no idea why she collapsed like that. He turned around, but didn't move forward.

"Uh...you gonna be fine there, right?"

Batwoman didn't hear or see him; the way she'd fallen prevented her from moving her arm to trigger the manuel catch that would open the lenses on her mask. She knew that the alarm back at the Cave was probably going off. But there was no one there to hear or see it, so she was sunk.

-God help me.-

It'd been a long time since she prayed.

She didn't move, and he felt a little guilty. Not by much, he was planning to run off. Sighing, he rolled his eyes. 'Why me? Why do I have to grow a conscience now, of all places? With this creature that will probably eat me when I get closer?'

He grudgingly and carefully walked closer to the female Knight...beast...thing, and poked at her armor with his sword, clanging it against it flat-sided, so it made a loud noise in the dark.

"Hey, missy there! You okay? 'Cause I'm leavin' and I don't want to be eaten by you!"

She started, sucking in her breath, then clenched one fist. If he tried getting the armor open he'd get a surprise from the booby traps.

His eyes caught the slight movement from her fist, though he could just barely make out the tiny sound of her breathing. He really had been trained as a Knight, after all, and was telling the truth in that.

"Helooooooo? Anyone HOME?" He rapped on the top of her helmet-cowl with his knuckles.

The growl she directed at him was loud and angry, though he only heard it faintly. Her hand moved again as she focused all her will and strength on shifting so that she could get the limb free and use it.

He backed off, thinking she would suddenly roar up and eat him, or do whatever evil wraiths did to people rapping on their skulls. Madmartigan's hand immediately closed around his sword, fearing the worst.

Batwoman took a slightly deeper breath as she managed to get her hand up to the spot beneath her chin where the button was, only to close her eyes as she realized that she lacked the strength to push it. She hadn't been keeping her equipment updated to be compatable with her physical condtion and that was inexcusable.

Teeth gritted, she concentrated all her strength on her thumb and sighed with relief as the darkness of the suit was replaced by the darkness of a Gotham night.

"Good." Her natural voice came through the speaker, no less emotionless and cold than the generated one, though weaker.

The sudden soft female voice was startling. Not that didn't have the hard edge to it, either. The scary visage seemed to disappear as Madmartigan slowly realized that there was, in fact, possibly a real woman underneath all that scary armor.

Sighing, he offered a hand. "Need help? That wasn't my fault, the kick I mean, someone must have let off some magic spell again. You don't have any Pecks with delusions of grandeur, thinking they're sorcerers around here, do ya?"

-Another dimension-hopper,- she realized, Glaring up at his dark outline against the stars. -Don't tell me I'm stuck with him too. That bleeping kid is bad enough.- "Shut up."

"Shut up!? Shut up? I ask a civil question and I get a shut up? Nice lady you are," he scoffed, but his hand was still there. "You're lucky I'm even helping you!"

Batwoman wracked her brains trying to think of what to do. There was no way she could let a foe know she was paralized; nor could she risk him finding out who she was. The only thing to do would be to drive him away.

Her hand went down to her other gauntlet, the movement slow and painful as she pressed the one other button on the suit that would still work. Then she winced as compressed air blew through a noisemaker in the chest of the suit, creating an earsplitting bullhorn din.

The sound horrified him, it sounded like...well, it sounded kind of familiar but it was way too loud to be safe. His heart leaped up in his chest and he resisted the urge to strike instinctively with his sword. Whatever it was, the woman must have called up the beast within her or whatever it was and he didn't waste another second.

"YYYYAAAAAHHHHH!!!" The sound of frantic footfalls disappeared as the rogue former knight ran for his life.

The sound died down after a few moments and the echos died away.

Then the silence of the alley was broken by what sounded suspiciously like a soft chuckle.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Live by the sword, die by the sword.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject