Walking [the] Straight [and] into the Narrows (COMPLETE)

[Connor Kent]

His head snapped in the direction of the disturbance. It took every last ounce of willpower he had to stop himself from running off, and leaving the girl to all the sodas in the store. That was when inspiration struck, dousing the desperation from his eyes. When he turned back to the girl, he caught her looking, too. He considered her for a heartbeat, and couldn’t quite shake the memory of how she had looked when she was backing away from him.

Once more, the fridge was open, and from it he took a couple of tall black cans. They were planted into the girl’s hands without ceremony.

“There. Now, go.”

[Barbara Gordon]

"Uh, okay..." Should she try to pay for them? She was reaching for her wallet inside her satchel, but stopped as her fingers brushed the little can of mace. It felt reassuring, and also reminded her of where she was. "Thanks?"

Barbara bobbled the cans a bit as she adjusted her hold on them, and uncertainly made her way toward the front of the store, and the front counter. She paused and fished a five dollar bill out of her bag as she held the cans against herself in the crook of her elbow, placing the bill on the counter. "I'll just leave this here..?"

[Connor Kent]

Are you kidding me!?

This girl, with all of her awkward fumbling and shuffling, was actually killing him. Gingerly, she eased the bill on the counter and gave him a look, from the opposite end of the store, like a puppy eager for its master’s approval. Just as a curse was about to sail over his teeth, his jaw clamped shut. The overflow of his rage was expelled in a bullish snort.

He stomped to the front of the store, the sticky floor slurping all the way, and snatched up the offensive little bill. The cash register was a bulky thing, yellowed with age. Connor took a step back to consider it, and the million and one buttons that sprouted up all over it. First, he tapped, and then he poked, and before long, he mashed. Nothing but mocking chirps and alarmed beeps. There was a ferocious crunch as the cash drawer was ripped from its housing. Coins showered onto the counter, bouncing and ringing, cascading over the edge, and rolling under the shelves.

“Help yourself!” Connor snapped, at absolutely no-one at all.

[Barbara Gordon]

Barbara watched this unfold with widening eyes, and when the cash register suddenly exploded in a rain of coins she took a long step back and to the side. "That's ok, keep the change." The young man looked ready to burst, too, and she had a feeling she didn't want to be around when that happened.

Part of her couldn't help poking the beast, however, and as she pushed on the front door she said, "Retail work, it's murder isn't it?" Then she was out in the cool early fall evening. Murder, get it? Of crows? Geez that was awful. Barbara scurried to her car, got in, threw the cans and her satchel into the passenger seat, and drove away.

She went around the block and parked again, hopping out and grabbing just her keys (which she shoved into her jeans pocket) and her phone (which she held in her hand, ready to record incriminating evidence, should she find any). She made her way around a scary looking apartment complex to where it backed up on the Pete's Quick Stop property, and peeked through the rundown fence at the back of the convenience store.

[Connor Kent]

Still clutching the now-empty cash drawer, Connor took stock of his surroundings. The register was ruined, and hundreds of copper and silver coins were scattered across the floor like a bed of shimmering pebbles. The clatter of a discarded cash drawer marked his departure from the tantrum’s epicenter, a cold judgemental silence trailing in his wake.

“The hell was that noise?” Turk greeted him with folded arms. Owlish and Mo were sealing the last of the boxes behind him, lashing the newbie with looks.

“There was a… technical fault.” Connor said, eating up the sight of the parcels, “So, where are we going?”

“We are going nowhere, Smiley. You are watching the store.” Turk had anticipated Connor’s heated objections, and cut him off, “Baby steps, kid. Baby steps.”

“And if you want to make yourself useful, show us your muscles.”

For a scumbag, Mo had a voice full of softness and warmth. There was always a twinkle in his eyes and curl to his lips that made it seem like he knew something you didn’t, which was invariably the case. He jabbed a thumb at a small mountain of boxes, and Connor understood.

The back door creaked open, and Connor stepped out, hidden behind the tower of boxes cradled in his arms. The others followed, each with their own boxes, which were carried across the yard, towards a parked van. They wore black ceramic masks, with prominent hooked beaks, that glistened like oil in the fleeting light. It was an eerie sight that put to bed any doubt as to why these men call themselves the Crows.

[Barbara Gordon]

Barbara bit her lip as a group of bird masked men walked out of the back of the store, and tapped her phone screen to bring up the camera app. She had the presence of mind to check to make sure it was on silent; it wasn't, so she flicked the volume to 'off'. The resulting vibration seemed louder than physically possible, but of course no one could hear it. She was about ten feet from the back of the store, behind a fence, and another twenty feet away from where the Crows were loading suspicious packages into their van.

She took pictures of it all.

[Connor Kent]

As he unloaded his boxes, Connor heard a soft buzz from beyond the yard - quiet enough that it went unnoticed by the others, close enough that he could almost feel it tickling his ear. He managed a single glance at the fence, before Owlish, who was panting under a stack of boxes almost half his size, lost his patience. Connor climbed into the back of the van and unburdened the others of their loads. While they returned indoors, he was left to arrange the cases in a fashion that was transit-safe - he was winging the lot of it.

When he finally emerged from the van, he stopped long enough to study the fence at the end of the yard. He stared at it hard, as if by sheer force of will he could peel back the layers of wood like paper. Nothing. The fence remained a fence: solid and impenetrable. His foot edged forward a step, but his advance was cut short by the parrot squawk of Owlish:

“Smiley, what the fuck did you do to that register?”

Summoned by the spectre of guilt, Connor retreated, and double-timed it back inside. The van was open, and unguarded.

[Barbara Gordon]

Don't you do it, Barbara. The last Crow was taking a long look at the fence and she was practically holding her breath even though he was not all that close. When the others yelled at him (calling him Smiley, of all things) from inside, the Crow turned and disappeared inside the Quick Stop. And of course the van was open, all alone, and tantalizingly close.

Barbara crept along the fence line from the other side, her sneakers lightly crunching in the gravel that lay just beneath the weeds. There was a gap in the fence and she squeezed through before she could talk herself out of it, darting over to the van. Her phone had automatically locked while she was moving, and she felt like she was all thumbs as she got the camera app up again. The boxes the Crows had been moving were all inside, and she took a picture with hands that were shaking from excitement. They were plain brown boxes, but new ones, and she hesitated only a moment before climbing inside and opening one up.

It was dark, but she'd been around cops enough to instantly recognize a kevlar vest when she saw one. This was a new version though, and when she shifted the one on top to get a picture of the back of it she realized there was a saran wrapped brick of greyish white in the center of the box. She took the picture, tried to figure out how she could quickly get a sample of the drug and couldn't come up with anything before she heard voices getting louder from inside the Quick Stop.

Heart in her throat, Barbara shoved the body armor back into the box, closed it, and jumped out of the van, running for the fence and the squeeze for safety.

[Connor Kent]

After being thoroughly chewed out by Owlish, Connor rejoined his companions looking less like a crow and more like a scolded dog. He’d left the store in such a bad way that it had to be closed - not that they did much business anyway, but that wasn’t the point. There was no excuse for his behaviour. Beyond the red glare of his temper, that much was clear. The least he could do to make up for it was shift the last of the boxes. And while Turk and Mo loaded him up, Owlish went outside for a smoke. Connor suspected he enjoyed reprimanding him a little too much.

“Hey! Hey! Get back here, you little bitch!”

A second of frozen silence punctuated the cries from outside. Behind their masks, the three exchanges glances, and the boxes fell to the ground. They ran in chaotic unison, bouncing off each other and the walls until they reached the back door. Connor was last out, and he was just in time to see Owlish squeeze through the fence. Whoever he’d seen posed an obvious threat to their fledgling operation, and the others sensed it, too. While Mo pulled the shutter down on the back of the van, Turk climbed inside. It rumbled to life just as Connor vaulted over the fence and joined the pursuit.

[Barbara Gordon]

She'd ripped her sweatshirt on the fence when she forced herself through the gap, but she'd barely noticed; the expletives being shouted behind her fueling the flight aspect of her adrenaline surge. Barbara darted between apartment buildings, startling a group of smokers enjoying the cool fall air as she ran past. Her satchel wanted to bounce wildly, but she clutched it tightly against herself, awkwardly zagging to the left and between another set of buildings feeling like a lopsided rabbit.

She reached the road and paused, listening for her pursuers as she drew in ragged breaths. She rooted in her satchel for her car keys, but they seemed intent on hiding from her.

[Connor Kent]

As the van turned, it slashed columns of white light through the fence, strobing the apartments beyond. In its glare, Connor sprinted, making short work of the first narrow stretch of alley. He turned a corner, tethered to the sound of Owlish’s voice, and another, scattering smokers. When he finally laid eyes on his fellow Crow, he was close enough to hear him wheezing; Owlish was a smoker, with short legs and some extra padding around the middle - he was not built for running, or anything particularly physical. The only thing Owlish liked to work up a sweat for was tearing him a new one, which was why, as Connor sped past him, he could see on his face a sheen of sweat so thick, he looked sugar-glazed. He resisted the urge to nudge him, and pressed on, still, with the awful expletives rending the air behind him.

One last corner put him in sight of the girl, she had rounded her car and appeared to be struggling with the lock. His suspicions were confirmed: it was the same strange red head from the store. A piercing shriek of tyres sailed over the rooftops just as Monster girl made it into her car. Ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, he slowed down.

[Barbara Gordon]

Barbara finally got the key turned and stuffed herself into her car, the door hanging open as she jammed the key into the ignition. Her satchel was awkwardly placed in front of her, still slung across her body as the engine coughed and then caught. Lights reflected off of her rear view mirror, blinding her as she reached out to close the door. It was the Crows' van.

It was accelerating, not slowing down, and was aimed for her car. She had a split second to make a decision, and she made it - throwing herself out of the vehicle and onto the broken roadway, scrambling for purchase as she got around her own open door just as the van slammed into her car.

[Connor Kent]

Connor was almost out of the alley when it happened. The red head’s car lit up like Christmas as the van bore down on it with its signature anaemic moan that sounded like a hair dryer. His breath caught in his throat when the car was shunted out of sight, replaced by the van and its masked occupants. His insides clenched and turned; there was no refuge from his discomfort in the silence that followed. Beyond the alley, the pavement was littered with fragments of shattered plastic and splintered metal. He navigated the debris on uncertain feet, and summoned the courage to peek inside the car.

It was empty.

Behind him, there came the thunk-thunk of the van doors being opened. Mo was groaning the moment his feet hit the pavement - he was probably regretting the whole rear-ending thing now. Turk, on the other hand, practically threw himself out of the van and scrambled to his feet. He barked a vowel or two, it was indecipherable, but what translated, and with crystalline clarity, was the wavering note of panic in his voice. It roused Mo into action and made saucers of Owlish’s eyes. He clutched his side, and rasped, “What is it now?”

What it was made Connor’s heart leap: the sight of a familiar red head darting out of sight across the street. It wasn’t over yet.

[Barbara Gordon]

There was an abandoned strip mall bordering yet another low income apartment complex, and Barbara ran as fast as she could down the sidewalk in front of the shuttered stores. Intended for helping the neighborhood no doubt, but the row of failed shops were just another example of the Narrows resisting change. She also intended to resist change - namely change to any parts of her body at the hands of the Crows.

"Stop running, bitch!" The shouter sounded out of breath, but Barbara couldn't risk a glance behind her, putting all her energy into running. "We're gonna fuck you up for snooping!"

She gasped for breath, the cold air tearing at her throat, and then she was sprawling on the asphalt, loose gravel tearing at her hands as she caught herself. One of the Crows had run around the back of the strip mall and cut through, heading her off and tripping her. "Ffffff," was all she could manage, scrambling to her feet so they wouldn't catch her on the ground.

He grabbed at her arm, probably hoping to hold onto her until his boys showed up, but she turned just quickly enough that he snagged her satchel strap instead. "Stop movi-nngh!" He doubled over when she punched him squarely in the solar plexus, probably gasping like a fish under his mask. He still had her by the satchel, though, and he had the presence of mind to pull on the strap hard, trying to knock her off balance.

Barbara ducked under and into the loop of the strap, removing herself from the predicament and leaving him holding the bag.

[Connor Kent]

“Owlish, you go that way, and I’ll head her off!”

Behind the glossy mask, Connor imagined the look of Owlish’s face, twisted in petulant revulsion at the thought of being ordered about by a newbie like him. His typically large eyes narrowed into slits, and then he was gone - there was no point in arguing with reason, after all. Confident that the coast was clear, Connor looked up, beyond the roof of the van to the top of the three storey apartment block across the street, he crouched, and with a rush of air, he leapt skywards. He landed on the roof of the apartment block, and tucked himself into a roll to arrest his momentum. Then, with a crunch of gravel, he took off again.

On the far end of the block, he glanced over the edge to locate the girl and her pursuers, but there was nothing, only voices. The cries scratched out at the night sky and echoed amongst the maze of rundown low-rises, offering Connor no clue where the action might be unfolding. Throwing caution to the wind, he dropped from his vantage point, the cool wind ripping at his clothes, and landed atop the small outcropping strip mall. Another hop down and he was back on the street.

“Keep hold of her, Mo!”

There was an undercurrent of aggression in Turk’s voice that Connor had never heard before, it was so alien to his ears that he sounded more like something that had escaped from the zoo, something unmistakably dangerous. He wheeled around, and saw Mo struggling with the girl, and there was Turk’s alarming shadow closing in fast. As resourceful as ever, he had something in his hand. Look out, he wanted to shout, but the words were lodged in his throat. Instead, he ran towards the scuffle, unsure what hell he was going to do when he got there.

[Barbara Gordon]

There was half a second of surprise as he found that she wasn't where he expected her to be, and Barbara dodged as he dropped the satchel and reached out for her with his other hand. Still breathing heavily from her run, she didn't have much to spare in the way of witty quips, and he quickly abandoned the idea of simply grabbing her. She ducked under a punch and came up inside his reach, hands clenched into fists as she hit him in the chest - one, two, step back.

He was angry now, her punches just enough to make him wary but not hard enough to knock him down. And of course she then tripped over her own satchel, falling over backwards as another Crow arrived, the glint of something sharp in his hand. "Pick her up, Mo," he ordered, and the first guy dragged her to her feet.

"S-stop," she managed, hands in front of her, palms out, and Mo released her with a bit of a shove toward the second Crow. The shiny black masks were terrifying, but she felt a strange focus - the knife holding her attention and her years of mixed martial arts practice at the behest of her uncle making everything clear. "Bitch is yours," Mo said, and the second guy brought his knife hand forward with a bit of an arc. It all happened so fast, and Barbara intercepted his wrist with both hands, pulling him toward her as she spun to the side and letting his momentum carry him straight into his buddy. She chopped him across the back with her forearm as he went past, and he stumbled to the ground as Mo shouted in surprise and then ran at her.

Barbara danced back a bit, and then spun, kicking the Crow in the side of the head as her body completed the turn, his mask crumpling in a very satisfactory way as he just collapsed to the ground. Crow 2 was on his feet again, and she ran at him, kicking rapidly as she shouted something that was probably "Hi-ya, hi-ya!" (shouting during practice in the dojo always felt weird, but it seemed natural and right in the moment, here on the street) and kneed him several times in the chest, knocking him to his back and ending up crouched over his body. She ripped off his mask and hit him in the face with it, and then stepped back and kicked the knife several meters away.

[Connor Kent]

It played out like a dream, as he approached. Though everything was vivid, there was also that phantom itch feeling of there being something not quite right about it, like he was waiting to wake up. The crack of the spin kick struck him like a body blow, but it wasn’t until the red head started to take Turk apart with lightning limbs and battle cries, that Connor slowed down, feeling a little dazed from it all. He dragged a heavy hand over his face to remove the ridiculous mask, and let it go.

By the time he arrived at the scene, Turk was finished, and the knife was sent skittering across the floor, flashing in the moonlight. The girl was all-too-fast on her feet, and before she could start shouting again, Connor retreated a step and raised in hands in surrender. His gaze ticked, first, down to his unconscious companions, and then back up to the girl. Who was she? What was she doing back at the store? Where did she learn to fight like that?

The questions came thick and fast, but, given the circumstances, the best he could manage was, “Are you alright?”

[Barbara Gordon]

It was the guy from inside the Quick Stop, and she frowned at his question, hands up by her face in loose fists. "Just peachy," she said finally. She took a few steps to the side, keeping the Crow in front of her as she moved to where her satchel was on the ground.

There was no one else around. Or rather, everyone else nearby knew better than to pay attention to a simple street fight in the Narrows. Barbara half squatted, half leaned down and snagged the strap of her bag, standing back up quickly and hanging it on her shoulder. "You gonna just stare?" she said abruptly, fishing for her phone and then realizing it had fallen out and was on the ground nearer to Crow 3 than it was to her. Both phones, in fact, the green glint of the burner the Green Arrow had handed her just an hour previously was visible next to where Mo was on the ground.

[Connor Kent]

Connor watched with curiosity. The girl was cautious in her movements, sidling imaginary walls in an unseen circle around him. He was just beginning to enjoy the tenuous peace, when she snapped at him like a cornered dog.

“Sorry.”

For the first time, she averted her gaze, and her eyes lit up, firing thunderbolts. It was a look that was impossible to ignore; Connor found himself staring at a couple of phones scattered about Mo’s head. He picked them up, and considered them both for an instant, before offering them both to the girl. His brow furrowed, and he skewered her with a knowing look.

“What did you see?”

[Barbara Gordon]

She eyed the phones in his hand, gauging whether she could grab them before he turned the tables and did something to them or to her. "Saw a bunch of bird masked wannabes putting boxes into a van."

Barbara took a step closer and her hand darted out, grabbing for the phones before he could change his mind. Behind him she caught sight of the fourth Crow, the fat one, panting around the corner. ​Shit.