Blood Ties

Chapter 4 -Double Sided-

One day later

Gotham was clear this night. Low clouds hung across the city like a blanket, though the streets were free of fog and the precipitation that often accompanied the dark clouds. The street lights were a sharp orange, reflecting off the wet ground courtesy of the afternoon rain that had cleared out. Although new clouds rolled in, they merely threatened a downpour, the wet scent of rain fresh in the air. Just after midnight the criminals of Gotham crawled about like rats, sniffing around for weak prey to make a few bucks on.

A long white commercial truck crashed through a puddle, bouncing out of the pothole, rocking on its axel and creaking as the rest of the truck settled. The dark tinted windows hid the driver from view, the silhouette of a human head shifted from side to side, looking for its destination.

The truck pulled into a large alley right next to a skate park, the headlights of the vehicle washing over the scene in a accusatory beam of light. There was a gleam from the shadows as a small motorcycle became visible for a moment before the light was swept away. The tires crunched across some loose gravel and grime that was ever-present in the rotting city of Gotham. The headlights turned off as the car stalled, though the engine stayed on.

There was a moment of quietness before the passenger side of the truck opened, a gruff looking man in heavy clothing stepped out carrying a long gun. His free hand went back to shut the door, a loud echo sounding around in the dark alley. His coat was thick and brown, a dirty red bandana bunched around his neck. His sun-darkened skin was wrinkled on his forehead, a fuzzy patch of blonde hair adorning his head. The man's beady eyes shifted from shadow to shadow, lifting the gun to a more usable position with his second hand on top, ready for anything.

The man gave a subtle nod to the driver in the vehicle he had moments before exited, soon after there was a sound of clunking metal. At the back of the truck the latch was lifted and the door lifted up in a smooth motion, less sound but not quiet.

More men poured out, all carrying their own guns and a jacket-like article of clothing. They came in varying sizes and shapes, crime has no limits nor expectations, except a desire to commit. One was a young man, blonde hair and blue eyed, wearing a snarky grin and much too excited about the drug deal he was apart of.

The men drifted over to the man awaiting their congregation. The man with the red bandana nodding to some men and pointed to others, clearly giving out near-silent orders. The men cleared out, each casually shifting into position, eyes adrift for the cops, or worse, Batman.

What they got was a little smaller, and much less righteous.

A dark figure slid silently onto the roof of the vehicle, going slow and smooth to avoid detection, his own smirk unable to be schooled into a professional look. The figure watched the men gather and disperse, noting points that would be safe if they opened fire, and points he could drop in and take care of any unnecessary complications.

The lanky form jumped lightly down onto the hood of the drivers side of the car, amused he was not yet found as his dark suit was stark against the white van and he had purposefully made noise in his last jump. He laid his hands on his hips and shook his head with distaste, tutting loudly as to finally catch the attention of the lead man.

The man looked up at the noise and instinctually rose his gun as well, ready to fire, the only thing that stopped him was the half orange and black mask.