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#8

STREET SWEEPERS

Day Two - Hunting Party

By D. Golightly

 

"One thing is for damn sure," Nightwing stated coldly. "They were taken by total surprise. Not a single one of them was prepared for what hit."

The scene surrounding the dark vigilante looked like a war zone. Holes the size of fists had been punched through the walls, a result of some kind of gorilla assault on the compound. The whole area, three acres of private property owned by the late Lady Minh, rested in the heart of Gotham 's prestigious suburb of Fox Chapel, a community filled to the brim with wealth and influence. To look at the grounds now, however, it appeared more like a suicide slum.

"I checked the official report the police filed about an hour ago," Renee Montoya said between sips of coffee. "There's a lot of exposition and theories as to exactly what happened but the short side of it is they have no clue what happened."

"Obviously a power move, but by whom? And why now?" Nightwing stood up from his crouch and took in the wreckage that was once the Minh mansion. "Whoever did this wanted no survivors. Since being forced out of Bludhaven and into Gotham , the Minh Family has remained relatively quiet. The son, Tommy, stirred up some trouble a while ago but that fell apart when I found out about it. Other than that, Lady Minh had actually kept to herself."

"Then why go to all the trouble of murdering over forty people?"

"That's why I think it was a power move," Nightwing answered. "There was no reason for it except to make sure the Minhs were out of the way. First those illegal guns disappear and now this. Something big is coming down the line. Someone is gearing up and getting rid of possible competition."

A chill wind blew in from the North, causing a shiver to run up Montoya's spine. It was after two in the morning, and that coupled with the fact that the official GCPD investigation had ended a few hours ago made it the perfect time for her and Nightwing to get a good look at the crime scene. It had barely been twenty-four hours since the hit, which to Nightwing it meant they were running short on time to garner leads.

"After I left you and Gordon last night I met up with Harvey ," Montoya said. "We followed up on a tip concerning the missing weapons from Milton 's warehouse. Harv thinks it's bogus but I'm not convinced."

"Let me guess," Nightwing cut in. "You traced part of the shipping manifest?"

"Bingo. The address that the crates full of weapons came from was a fake but the name the place was registered under can't be coincidental with the return of Cobblepot. According to what we found out, the weapons were originally shipped from a depot under the direction of a Mr. Spheniscidae." Montoya took another sip of her coffee in a feeble attempt to shake the cold away, something she knew was futile but continued to do anyway. Gotham nights were notorious for getting under your skin.

"Spheniscidae is a family of bird," Nightwing commented, making the same connection that Montoya had implied. "A family that claims arctic creatures like penguins. Definitely sounds like something Cobblepot would dream up. Why does Bullock think it's bogus?"

"He said it was too obvious. He never thinks things are that easy."

Nightwing tossed a glance over his shoulder at the private detective. "Tell him not to underestimate the ego of a criminal mastermind. Penguin has been moving drugs through the city but I think it was just to finance a bigger operation. Drugs don't provide a stable profit margin and they're too easy to trace back to the supplier. He's smarter than that, even if he's using the local street gangs to distribute."

"So he's graduated to weapons trafficking." Montoya stated. "Who is he selling the weapons to?"

The vigilante swept his gaze over the decimated compound, making a note of the dried blood that laced the inside of the bullet holes. Whatever had torn through the victims' bodies had been powerful enough to keep going through cement walls. Even though the place looked like it had been peppered with buckshot the size softballs he couldn't help but notice a sense of precision to it all. Whatever had caused this was not only powerful and deadly, but also compact and manageable. He had never seen anything like it.

"If we find out who did this I think we'll discover the answer to that question."

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The traps had been easy enough to detect. He was a world class assassin and had been specially trained to spot the weaknesses in strongholds. A tripwire here, a motion sensor there..overall he was impressed. His prey had made it somewhat difficult for him to gain entrance to the lower tunnel below their headquarters and for that he respected them, regardless of how much hate he housed. However, there was no mistaking it..his prey was just that. Prey.

A typical shrike's beak was curved, like a bird of prey. The assassin sported his own weapons but his tactics were no less deadly. The bird he had taken the name from was especially vicious and well known for impaling its prey on thorns to clear the flesh away. Before long his hunt would conclude with the flesh of his enemy torn and bloodied across his bladed tonfa.

Of course, he knew that his current assignment was only by the grace of his employer. Despite the vendetta he held against Nightwing he was bound to obey whoever signed the checks. The killer Shrike ground his teeth at the thought of the rooftop vigilante, memories of past defeats washing through his honed mind.

Something glistening in the light up ahead broke him out of his thoughts. He had found the entrance to the tunnel simply by homing in on Nightwing's public appearances. He had to have been coming from somewhere and the various traps scattered throughout the tunnel verified for him that he had found it. The dank tunnel was shrouded in almost complete darkness except for a few ventilation slots that also allowed light to circulate with the air. If it wasn't for that small amount of ambient light he might not have seen the opaque box up ahead attached to the bottom of a support pillar.

Approaching cautiously, Shrike flicked open a compact on one of his tonfas, pulling out a tiny multi-tool. The box was hidden exquisitely, but again, Shrike's intensive training had paid off. He worked the tool behind the box, detaching it from its wiring without tripping an alarm. He quickly studied the box, realizing it was a router for the other electrical systems in the tunnel, which meant he now had the key to accomplishing his goal.

Shrike opened the back of the router and began to rewire the inside, smiling devilishly while he worked. It would take a while but time was something he had plenty of, while his prey seemingly ran out of it.

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The blue and black of Nightwing's uniform mixed in perfectly with the shadows of the early morning hours. After splitting from Montoya, he had made his way across town to Penguin's latest estate acquisition: a stark warehouse named Icetopia. From his perch on top of the building across the street he had a bird's eye view of the front entrance and side alley. He wasn't sure if he should just go in and start busting heads or if a more subtle entrance was in order.

No telling what kind of firepower Cobblepot has in there , Nightwing thought. I was lucky to walk away from the KGBeast, Deadshot, and a new Hyena. Two are in jail so I don't have to worry about running into them, but Deadshot made a clean getaway. There's a good chance he'll be holed up inside with Penguin and whatever lackeys are hanging around.

The building was mostly dark on the outside except for a single overhead light illuminating the loading dock in the alley, along with a small ceiling lamp that Nightwing could make out through the third floor window. The other windows were still boarded up, which didn't surprise the former Boy Wonder. Penguin had only purchased the building a few weeks ago mainly as a distribution center for drugs as opposed to the budding nightclub that he claimed on his tax forms.

Tires squealed, catching Nightwing's attention. The streets were empty as usual this late, but the sound of several motors bounced off of the buildings from a few blocks away. A black sedan rounded the corner and came into his view, rocketing down the bare street and heading straight for him. He had been in situations similar to this often enough to know what was happening.

Three more sedans exactly like the first blazed into view. The windows in the lead car began to roll down, a sure sign of what was about to happen and the verification that Nightwing needed. Springing up from his crouch, Nightwing somersaulted forward into the air and away from the building, falling straight down into the street. At the last possible moment his hand shot out from his curled body, a thin line jetting out to the building he had been perched on. As soon as the high-composite cable latched into the stone wall he yanked back on it hard, cutting his forward velocity in half. His timing was perfect as his arc was cut short from the sudden change in direction, his feet planting firmly on the roof of the first car.

The noise and jarring impact of his landing apparently surprised the driver as the vehicle swerved momentarily. Several male voices from within yelled over the engine as the driver slammed on the brakes, shooting the back of the sedan across the center of the street. The car skidded to a stop in front of Icetopia, its passengers quickly chambering the rounds in their weapons.

Looks like this is no longer a drive-by , Nightwing commented mentally. Now it's a shooting gallery.

Men began to pile out of the other three cars that had screeched to a halt behind the one Nightwing was holding on to. Each of them wore tailored suits and were sporting various weaponry. The first to jump out of the second car, a large black man with a scar over his right eye, leveled a shotgun at the former Boy Wonder and pulled the trigger.

Instinct took over as Nightwing flipped back over the vehicle he had dropped on top of, landed on the street toward the front grill of the sedan. The blast from the shotgun tore into the roof of the car, puncturing it a handful of times but not penetrating all the way through. The cars were apparently armored, meaning for the moment Nightwing was safe from anymore straight out attacks.

Shield won't last forever. Got to move.

As if the driver could read his mind, Nightwing noticed an MP-5 assault rifle pointed at his head through the windshield. Nightwing ducked down just in time as a hale of bullets shattered the glass and perforated the hood of the vehicle. The onslaught continued until the clip ran out, regardless of the other passengers' complaints of possible ricochets.

Nightwing ripped his escrima fighting sticks from their place on his back and pivoted around to the side of the car, making sure it was the side opposite the other three cars full of gunmen to keep the obstacle between them as long as possible. Keeping low, the vigilante swiftly punched one of the escrima through the driver's side window and into the face of the man holding the MP-5. The other two passengers struggled to aim around the driver but were too scared to squeeze off a shot while Nightwing ducked back underneath their view.

Hit and run , Nightwing thought. In and out. Keep moving. Don't stop.

The rest of the men from the other black sedans spread themselves out across the street in an effort to flank the Bat's apprentice, while the men inside the first car opened their doors on the side Nightwing wasn't hiding behind, preparing to hop over the roof and gun him down like a helpless stray. He was cornered. In the next few seconds he would be in plane view of not one but a baker's dozen of armed gangsters. He had to act fast or else he would find out just how good his Kevlar costume really was.

"Everybody drop 'em!" a new voice yelled from somewhere above them.

The gunmen all turned their attention upward to see a man in a red and silver costume staring down at them, a rifle held in his hands and pointed in their direction. Nightwing angled his head back to look over the hood of the sedan, blinking in recognition instead of surprise upon seeing Deadshot.

"Don't any of you think for one moment that I can't rip you all to shreds," Deadshot continued. "Thirteen or three hundred..doesn't matter. Not when I've got you in my sights. Now, my backer doesn't particularly want an ocean of blood washing over his front stoop and there's no need to involve the police. Yet. So..like I was saying. Everyone drop your weapons or I'll spread your brains all over the asphalt."

There was no doubt in Nightwing's mind that the assassin meant every word he had spoken. One wrong move from any of these wannabe Goodfellas and it would be Hell on Earth. To make matters worse, there was nothing Nightwing could do. He doubted Deadshot had seen him yet or else he would probably be dead. That gave him a slight edge but for now he was stuck.

Out of the corner of his eye Nightwing saw one of the gunmen take a step forward. His foot didn't even finish touching the ground before his face caved in and the back of his head exploded. Blood and tissue splashed onto the street, coating the yellow lane divider and twisting it into a sick orange hue.

"I wasn't bluffing," Deadshot called down. "Just because Penguin doesn't want to make a scene does not mean I'm not authorized to. Last chance. Leave or die."

Most of the gunmen began to slowly look back and forth between one another, as if they were collectively trying to decide what to do. Nightwing actually found himself holing onto a breath, unsure of what would happen. Even if the thugs took the easy way out and piled back into their cars, once they took off he would be out in the open. Deadshot would be sure to settle the score the two of them had created when they had last met. The only thing worse than a deadly sniper was a deadly sniper with a bruised ego and a grudge.

He looked back and forth between the gunmen and the assassin, waiting for one of them to make a move. Seconds droned on like hours. It was a standoff.

Breaking the silence, the sound of wood being pounded against startled the whole group. Nightwing hunched back and peered through the driver's side window he had just smashed, gaining a perfect view of what was going on. He could see movement behind one of the boarded up windows, a piece of the wood covering it suddenly popping out and hitting the sidewalk below. From inside one of the men he recognized from his last visit to Icetopia, a man Penguin had called Daniel, stuck out a rifle of his own and opened fire.

Nightwing ducked down behind the armored car again, catching a quick glimpse of Deadshot shaking his head in disapproval. That's what happens when you work with amateurs , Nightwing thought.

Three more of the gunmen fell under Deadshot's assault while the rest opened fire on the entire building. Two more boarded windows popped open with gunfire immediately blazing through the fresh openings. Bullets landed all around the vigilante, effectively pinning him to his position.

His only chance to not only get out of the way but to possibly end this was to slip under the sedan. Rolling onto his back, Nightwing squirmed his way underneath the armored car. He felt like a turtle hiding there but it was his only option. Bullets continued to rain down from the sky as Deadshot and his gung-ho partners held their advantaged position.

"Oracle? You monitoring?" he asked his earpiece.

{{ Roger that, Nightwing, }} the stern feminine voice replied. {{ Is that gunfire in the background? What's going on? }}

"I need a distraction in front of Icetopia. I'm pinned down between Floyd Lawton and a pack of gangsters. Give me whatever you've got, babe. I need it sooner than later, unless you want to start looking for a new boy toy."

{{ Till death do us part, remember? Hang onto your tightrope. }}

Nightwing cut the transmission and prepared himself to roll out and jump into a run. Whatever his wife was going to do it needed to be big enough to hold the attention of Deadshot and the rest of the gunmen. He held his breath for the second time in anticipation.

Suddenly all of the gunfire ceased. Without hesitation, Nightwing rolled out from under the car and bolted for the alley beside Penguin's building, not bothering to look over his shoulder to see the distraction Oracle had created.

He flipped up onto the loading dock and kicked the side door in, throwing himself through the new opening and narrowly escaping the returning gunfire. Whatever she had done, Babs had successfully given him exactly what he had asked for.

Making a mental note to get his wife the biggest stocking stuffer he could find this year, Nightwing moved swiftly through the interior of the "club." The inside was barely lit and mostly empty, aside from a worktable filled with an impressive chemistry set. Beakers and burners lined the table, undoubtedly used to break down the drugs before distribution. Wishing he had enough time to wreck the whole lab, Nightwing instead made his way across the expansive room and up a flight of wooden stairs to the second floor where he knew several men were firing their weapons out of the windows.

He bounded up the steps as fast as he could. As soon as he reached the top he sprung into action. There were only five of them total, the first two of which fell to Nightwing's superior speed and grace.

"What the--" one of the men tried to say as he pulled his machine gun out of the window to point at the vigilante. His sentence was cut short from a set of Nightwing's patented wingdings slicing through the air.

Nightwing made short work of the remaining thugs on the second floor before rocketing up to the third. Only a single man stood in the window but what he held scared the former Boy Wonder. It was a pineapple grenade and his finger was on the pin.

His footsteps caught the attention of the thug as he stepped out of the hallway and onto the floor. "Hey!" the thug screamed. "K-keep back! I'll pull this, I swear!"

Nightwing held his ground and stared down the hired lackey. The shadows clung to his costume like a wet blanket, coating him in shrouded mystery. He recognized the man as Daniel and knew that if he had been left behind that Penguin must have escaped.

"I'm dead serious, punk!"

The hero stood tall, the white slots of his mask piercing through the darkness.

"You ain't the Bat. Ain't nothing you can do to me. Back off!"

"You have no idea what I can do to you," Nightwing replied in his deepest and most raspy voice. It didn't hold up to Bruce's but he was sure the thug was ready to urinate on himself. "Set your weapons down and get down on your knees. Now."

"Heh," the thug coughed as sweat began to bead down his face. "You listen t--"

"Now!"

For a moment the goon looked paralyzed with fear, even though he truly held all the cards. Nightwing weighed his options to see if he could cover the distance between them in time or if he was better off ducking back into the hallway and leaping back down to the second floor.

The gunfire from outside finally died off leaving them in a deafening silence. The thug, with sweat beginning to condense under his chin and form a larger droplet that hung loose, slowly lowered the grenade and his gun to the floor. He placed the weapons in front of him, took two steps to the side, placed his hands behind his head, and fell down onto his knees in total servitude.

"Good boy," Nightwing told him.

The hero raced forward and flew across the room, placing a precise kick to the top of the Daniel's head, knocking him out instantly. Nightwing's hands flashed to his gauntlets and then slapped a thin restraining cable around Daniel's hands, ensuring that when he woke up he wouldn't be going anywhere.

That just left Deadshot on the roof.

Nightwing raced back up the stairs again to the only place left above him. He kicked the top door open and launched himself onto the roof, rolling behind a storage shed. Wingdings and grappler in hand, Nightwing flanked Deadshot's last position and readied himself for anything.

Only there was nothing. A quick look around the empty roof told him he was alone. Deadshot had gotten away. Again.

Nightwing peered over the edge of the room to see nothing but shards of glass from the window he broke and a scattering of wasted bullet shells. The men in the black sedans had taken off, too. Nightwing was the only one left.

Once the gunfire from inside stopped the street thugs must have taken off , Nightwing pondered. Deadshot must have left when the rest did since there was nothing left to shoot at. Damn.

He could search the building but he doubted he would find anything. All he had seen when racing through was the chemistry set; there was no sign of crates or containers holding the missing firearms. The night had been a total waste.

Nightwing scratched his head in an effort to alleviate the annoyance of the evening. Dawn would be coming soon and he might as well head back to the Nest. There was nothing left for him here once he checked in with Montoya and had her alert the GCPD.

Raising his head, Nightwing noticed for the first time the giant distraction his wife had so graciously provided for him. The entire front of the building across the street, the building he had been perched on when all this began, was lit up via the various offices that comprised the structure. The lights on the inside of each room were turned on so that it created a simple design that had proved more than enough to hold the attention of Deadshot and the other gunners.

Plastered on the front of the building for everyone to gawk at was a giant smiley face comprised of lit office windows.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shrike finally cracked the codes in the router, granting him access to the main systems of his enemies' base. Several times he had almost given up but the special equipment provided to him by his employer had proven enough to get him through the software. It had been an arduous task but it was complete nonetheless.

The thin vents that allowed him to barely see in the dark tunnel began to let in more and more light. He had lost track of time during his work and morning had been able to sneak up on him. He silently cursed but realized he had no choice in the matter.

He couldn't attack during the day. The night was far better for what he needed to do. He would have to wait.

Shrike settled into a meditative position and made himself comfortable. He couldn't risk sleep since he was already inside the lion's den but his mastery over the martial arts would allow him to recover his strength.

He cleared his mind and waited for the night to fall once again.

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TO BE CONTINUED DURING DAY THREE