ISSUE #1: WOLVERINE VS BATMAN???

[the_caped_crusader]

Who: Batman the_caped_crusader and Wolverine howlett
What: After settling in Central City, Bruce has been connecting dots between the larger threads of the city's criminal underworld...
When: First week of May
Where: Central City
Content Warnings: Mentions of organ harvesting, violence



[ the past few months have been hard, but he's been managing. with central drawing so many parallels to gotham, fitting in hasn't been difficult, but being poor has certainly been a learning curve. but whether central city or gotham, criminals still remained a cowardly and superstitious lot. getting information took more time than he was used to in a while, because the kinds of people these kinds of thugs did work for weren't the same kind as the joker or two face, they were the kind that didn't want to draw attention to themselves. the kind of people who had other people do their dirty work. it reminded him of gotham before batman, and when the name d'amico came up, it reminded him so vividly of the same way they would used to say falcone... he was hardly surprised.

more digging led him to a basement tucked away beside a small neighborhood grocery, whose unassuming, narrow brick entryway belied the expansive basement that must have included the basement space of the adjacent building as well. if the d'amico's were as well-funded as falcone was, then he suspected there were many more buildings like this throughout the city. shutting this one down would do little to stop their entire operation, but this was only the next stop in his lead on his way straight to their boss. the shady group of criminals he meets down below don't know it yet as they pick up their weapons-- knives and scalpels and bats and guns-- with that hungry, violent look in their eyes that so many of them always did, only fills him with rage as he sees other bodies around him, all lying on slabs, glass-eyed with their rib cages cracked open.

it takes him very little time to dispatch all of them, because he finds it difficult to pull his punches the way he normally might. these people weren't insane, they were scum, bleeding these people of their livelihoods until they had nothing left to offer but their bodies and their lives. when they're left crying and begging for mercy on the ground, groaning and bleeding, he clenches his fists and finds it very hard to find that mercy within him to not go further. but he reminds himself that he has a job to do-- and so he starts looking. ]

Comments

[howlett]

Given his druthers he wouldn't be in a place like central city. He's been to Sunset Falls. Excelsior. Little Love. These are the kinds of places he'd rather settle than the city, but until he's resigned to being here permanently or finds a reason to trust either of the meta factions that govern this world, he's here in Central. Where he can keep an eye on things.

Speaking of eyes. His are coming back to him.

He blinks away the sticky blur that clouds his vision. It still lingers around his peripheral but it's better than the whole lot of nothing it was a few minutes ago. Along with the fog of his brand new eyes, the fog in his head is clearing too. Leaving him to wonder if the echo of some chaos that rings in his ears is merely the remnants of a dream or something that went on in this very room while he was in an out for a while.

He groans as he tries to sit up and take it in, but the sharp smell of sanitizers and surgical steel scald his brain through the olfactory nerve.

"Kenny?" he mutters. "You done with me?”

He sniffs the air again despite himself. There’s something else here among the medical supplies. Fear. Sweat. Someone he can’t quite place.

The claws SNIKT out by reflex. "Where's the usual crew?"

hope you don't mind my brackets. you can keep prose if you want

[the_caped_crusader]

Indisposed.

[ there's only an inky blot of shadow standing in the darkness as a hanging ceiling light dangles back and forth above him. a heavy *thump* follows his response when batman drops him from his grasp and lets him fall to the floor. finally, he turns. ]

I'll be taking over as your doctor for the evening. [ he watches as surgical wounds heal as they speak. ] Speaking of, I have a few questions about your condition.

i don't mind at all! also im so stupid i thought i matched you brackets in the last one but...😅

[howlett]

Recuperating is not a position any animal likes to be caught in, but it's a frustratingly familiar one for him. He blinks again to try and bring that shadow into focus, but doesn't rub his eyes lest he offer up any indication that he's any less whole than he looks. If he had a mirror he'd probably realize a fool's errand that is.

His blood is still on the table. On his skin— old and new. On the floor and on the disposable papery shorts he's in.

He drags a hand across his belly where he remembers an incision. It's long closed but the lightheadedness. The faint touch of nausea. He knows when he's missing something inside. Something one relies on to regulate the routine functions.

"Oh yeah? Then maybe I can get some water. Or a shot of rye. Whatever's handy."

He clears and his throat and lets his feet find the ground, but continues to lean on the edge of that butcher's block for the time being.

"Ask away. But I been in and out for a while so, no promises I'll be the most cooperative patient," his eyes narrow when that shadow gets a little sharper in focus. "Have we met? Feel like we've met, but I'm a little foggy."

[the_caped_crusader]

If we met, I'm sure you'd remember.

[ he's sort of hard to miss. makes his presence known though well executed theatrics. unconscious, they all stink of fear saturated in the pheromones of their sweat, perhaps not entirely unlike what logan elicits in people. he approaches without speaking, smelling heavily of metal and petrichor, and grabs something from the table. maybe logan's hesitant until he turns and shoves an already open bottle of vodka at him. ]

Not the most professional place. [ he turns his eyes peripherally; sharply. ] You know them?

[howlett]

"Don't flatter yerself, I got a memory like a sieve," he grumbles because frankly being caught unaware makes him cranky.

The shifting of light and the sounds of movement are met with a focused glare from Logan, at least until he realizes what his new doctor is prescribing.

"Thanks," he mumbles. With a hum of appreciation he takes the bottle, takes a whiff and takes a drink. Where it causes the most discomfort is a decent way of figuring out what's not quite grown back yet.

"Some of'em," he offers, but for now he's less interested in the people here and whatever's been done with them then he is Bruce. Especially as his eyes start to register all the finer details. The outfit. The frown. "This is startin' to feel like an interrogation. What're you? Alliance?"

[the_caped_crusader]

I'm Batman.

[ that's the only answer he's willing to offer regarding his affiliation; maybe logan gets it, maybe he doesn't. though he takes well to the shadows, batman has no problem showing himself, his expression knitting angrily. ]

You're working with these people. Do you have any idea what these people are doing here?

[howlett]

"Batman," he says to himself like that settles something in mind.

"Hey. I'm just selling something. We ain't family," he clarifies. "The only people I know here are the ones who make the cuts and the ones who cut the cheques so you can climb down off that high horse, bub."

[the_caped_crusader]

They're taking your organs. You might have that luxury, but do you really think you're the only one?

[ he pulls something from his belt and throws a small dime bag of pills that hits him square in the chest. ]

New drug on the street. Gives its users metahuman powers for a short period of time. But I guess you don't know much about that one, either.

[howlett]

"They're taking because I'm selling," he says. "Course I'm not their only stock. How do you think I found this gig?"

He catches the little packet against his chest and sniffs a it. The scent rings familiar but the bat is right. It's not something he's ever chased after.

"Why should I?"

[the_caped_crusader]

[ he steps up closer to logan, not chest to chest, but certainly invading his personal space. ]

A metahuman makes a business deal with a bunch of killers and a new drug hits the street that gives its users abilities. Maybe they took some of your brain, too.

[howlett]

He casts a slow look up and down the man as if to make sure that little step closer was fully intentional.

"Rethink this," he mutters with a lazy gesture to the remaining space between them.

"Listen Batboy. Drugs ain't the only thing these folks are running. I just didn't think SWATing their whole op was a good way to get the full picture."

[the_caped_crusader]

Look around you. I've thought plenty.

[ he doesn't step closer, but he doesn't move away. capable? or maybe just dumb. maybe both. not that either would stop logan. ]

You were here to make a quick buck, not buy more time for information. What else have you seen?

[howlett]

"I'm lookin'." Now that he can see properly again anyway. "Looks to me like you just fucked up a days work for few paid lackey's and chased anyone who hears about this into hiding."

He hits that vodka again, raising the bottle so the bottom of it comes precariously close to the nose of this man's cowl and shrugging uncooperatively at the question.

"You sound like you got me all figured out, bub. Why would you need any more information from the likes of me. Now. You wanna get outta my way or pass me my shirt?"

[the_caped_crusader]

[ he pauses for a moment to consider his generosity and then turns to grab him a shirt. was it his? was it a hospital smock? was it splattered with blood? he doesn't care. ]

I got this address from the last place I visited. [ he's been making some house calls... ] Now answer my question. What have you heard?

[howlett]

Logan narrows his eyes and gives Bruce an unimpressed look for the option of this particular shirt. "The first one then," he says shouldering his way past for the pile of items that were on him when he came in. Not some operating theatre scraps.

"Yer makin' a lotta demands for a man who ain't offerin' shit," he says. Mostly because his problems with authority run deep. As stubborn as he is, he has to suspect the man wouldn't have come all this way to create so much chaos if he wasn't deeply interested in finishing the job.

"I hear a lotta things. About the D'Amico family. Their business partners. And some interesting things driving interest in experimental drugs.

"But until I know enough about you, I'm not so sure I feel like sharing."