settling uneasily

[crusaded]

When the color of the sky overhead begins to change, I know that I've taken too long in returning to Rapture. From the disdain in Damian's voice alone, I've gleaned more about the island than any stranger could tell me. Batman isn't welcome on an island such as this one. I know that there is a group of people who have taken it upon themselves to carefully watch over every possible source of danger and risk, a group that frequently denies access to Rapture, taking it upon themselves to make sure that every person who travels below is capable of defending him or herself. A nice sentiment, but already it rankles, settling uneasily over my skin. For anyone to have that level of knowledge is setting a dangerous line over which the island could topple at any moment. Creates an imbalance of power. For all the foolish choices that people may make, the option is still meant to be in their hand. Children should be overseen by their guardians. But if freedom is something which this island claims to grant its citizens in any capacity?

There shouldn't be anyone standing guard.

Still, I'm expecting it. The sun which threatens beneath the horizon won't make a difference deep in the caves, but it gives me a sense of how much time has passed as I run straight to the caves, turning sharply, relying on memory. A deep and faint glow heralds success as I spot the winding staircase, taking several steps down at a time, not bothering to completely silence my footfalls.

I don't expect for this island to turn a blind eye for me, and the least that means for my actions now is that I should avoid taking any of these officers by surprise.

Comments

[crusaded]

He's resilient. Bringing my elbow down on his head feels more like coming down on a block of metal than it does flesh and bone, a numbing sensation traveling up the length of my arm, though I've trained myself to move in spite of a loss of feeling. He grabs on before I can pull myself entirely away, the grasp strong, but more importantly, constricting— if I don't move soon, the loss of feeling might spread, forcing me down a slippery slope. Thinking fast, I wonder if he's taken his gaze off my belt.

If he has, then that might be my saving grace.

I have no idea how this might play out, were we to continue. For all that he's unarmored, this chump seems to be taking each hit far better than I am. Taking advantage of his next maneuver, I put up just enough resistance to have my hand swipe by the proper pocket of the belt, slipping a small pellet out and crushing it with my fingers.

Knock-out gas. If I remember correctly, I only brought three with me; this needs to count. Or at least earn one or two seconds' worth of distraction.

[exweapon]

"Ready to give up, go find another cave?" I grunt. I'm not a talker the way some folks are, but it has its place. Bravado, taunts. Sometimes it's just another way of expelling air as you exert yourself, like I am now, trying to to force his arm behind his back in a position I can pin him, force him around and back.

It's a lot harder than it is with your average punk. I can take a lot of hits -- I've had plenty of practice -- but even so, I'm going to start slowing down, getting more dazed. I don't want to take my time putting him down for the count.

Not easy, though. He's had experience, too. If I didn't have a job to do, this'd even be good practice.

Hell, it still is.

[crusaded]

The less I talk, the better. I've started holding my breath. Without access to my gas mask, all of this comes down to a race. I've had enough exposure to my own tools that the dizziness isn't instantaneous, but in the end, a single full breath should be enough to knock out several people in the immediate vicinity, once the gas has spread— I'm no exception to that rule. And a man can only survive without air for so long. The more he talks, the more silence he seeks to fill, the better my odds are. Something tells me I need all the luck I can get, too.

Another cave, though— I wonder what this man has heard. I wonder just how many secrets Jason has armed his allies with, but if there's anything to take comfort from, it's the sense I've gotten that this man isn't fighting to kill. He's hardly drawn blood. Everything falls under an effort to knock me unconscious, where stars are still forming at the corners of my vision.

I wrench my arm suddenly in his grasp, relying on the slight give of glove and gauntlet to whirl myself around, facing him again, one hand freeing in time to try and send my palm directly in his face, the two broken halves of the pellet still pressed there.

[exweapon]

Open-palmed strikes are common. Lots of styles use them. I don't think anything of it, just brace, prepare to roll with the blow.

It's a mistake. His hand isn't empty. Too late, I notice that he's holding his breath. No one as good as he is would hold their breath in a fight without good reason, would subject themselves to oxygen deprivation in the middle of a knock-down dragout...

...unless they're expecting to be breathing something other than oxygen.

"Son of a-" I grunt, but it's too late, I've already got a faceful, already inhaled reflexively as the palm connects and snaps me back.

If I had my healing factor, it's possible I could fight through it, depending what type of gas it is, how it works. I don't. I try, anyway, with a roar, let the rage, the animal rise up in an attempt to put him down before the gas takes effect. All I have to do is make him breathe, or use the fact that he isn't to knock him out before I'm gone.

"You think that's enough? For me? I'm the goddamned Wolveriiiin-"

Too little, too late. The world goes black.

[crusaded]

The name means absolutely nothing to me, although it's yet another fact that I file away for safe-keeping. Names are chosen for a reason. And, if I'm lucky, I might be able to run the name through some type of database, keep an eye out for mentions. Learn more about the man.

Had I easier access to all of my resources, this is where I'd tie the man up, make sure he won't simply dive right down into the bathysphere and cling doggedly on to my trail. I decide to place my bets elsewhere. If there's a man waiting at the entrance of the city, chances are there'll be more underground. And there's no guarantee that a group would place their greatest defense at the mouth of a cave.

I wait until I've stepped inside the sphere, locking the door and taking a shallow breath, testing the air. Clear, fortunately. Casting one last look over at the body crumpled on the floor, I half-expect him to be up on his feet when I pull the lever to descend back into Rapture.

"Sorry, bub."