Midnight Exchange

[Ragman]

Slidding back, his heels digging into the ground, the Ragman regains his balance. His head snaps up to Nicky's next hook.

"Hard it is."

His arms reach up. He steps to the side and grasps the fist flying towards him.

Ox is big. He's gotta weigh nearly 300 lbs. Bet his knees are gonna hurt like Hell after this.

Attempting to use the full force of his actions against him, Ragman's grip on his arm becomes tighter. A foot is planted in front of the attacker's. The Ragman pulls the thug along, and a trip is in the making.

[npc2]

Being a fighter of brute trauma force, and not of finesse, The"Ox" falls victim to The Ragman's trip. Landing with a thud on his side, Ox grunts from the pain of falling with great force on the damp curb. Rising to his feet, Nicky loosens his tie and throws of his hat and coat.

"Ok...now I am mad. Now your gonna get it pal."

Nickey puts his hand on his knee, to rise to his feet.

[Ragman]

Wow. He really is dumb as an "Ox".

A running leap sends Ragman into the air, foot first. Just before he makes contact, a flutter of disconnected scraps blinds Nicky from the alleyway. The hero re-assembles behind his adversary within full time to finish his kick - now aimed at his head.

[npc2]

The "OX" sees the kick coming from a mile away...but not the disappearing act. Astonished, and in disbelief, Nicky turns with a ......

Nicky The "OX":
".....Hunh?..."

Nicky Ferrilli turns just in time to actually see Ragman's foot, for a split second before it makes contact. The big man actually moves very little, as the kick strikes home smashing Nicky's nose almost flat against his face. The impact moves Nicky so little that Ragman could almost use the giants face as a spring board.

Nicky The "OX":
"AAARRRRRRRHHHH!!!!!!..."

The OX falls back with a tremendous thud against a loose dumpster, pushing it a few short feet down and off the street curb. Falling back onto the ground in a pile of full trash bags, Nicky gathers himself. His nose runs like an open faucet, brightly highlighting his designer dress shirt in the dimly lit ally. Crawling out of the trash pile on all fours like an injured animal, Nicky growls with anger...

Nicky The "OX":
"I"M gonna paint this ally with yer guts pal....and I'm gonna wipe yer blood from my hands wit DEM DAMN RAGS AH YER'S!!!"
Working himself into a blind rage, the mob boss's nephew charges the tattered hero like a wild rhino.

[Ragman]

"Ah-ah. You'll hurt yourself that way."

A huricane of cloth carries the Ragman upwards, narrowly dodging the rush of muscile. Just as Nicky passes underneath, he kicks with the force of an elephant, slamming his foot into the Ox's back - propelling him forward with more speed than anticipated. The brick wall ahead would serve as an abrupt brake in the run. The Ragman lands and turns around, ready for another blow.

I'm begining to strongly dislike this. I don't want to hurt him that bad, just enough for the PD to pick him up. Seems about time I stop pulling my punches. Maybe he'll back down then.

"I'm done playing, Nicky. One more chance. Stand down or I will take you down."

[npc2]

The momentum of Ragman's kick sends Nicky down the ally a little ways, almost causing him to fall over his own feet. After stumbling a few short yards Nicky catches himself against a wall almost leaning over. Catching his breath Nicky takes a moment to gather himself...

Nicky The OX:
"This damn jerk thinks I'm playin wit him!...I'm gonna smas...."

A loose length of rusted iron piping about two feet long catches his eye and ends his thought. Bending over to pick it up, Nicky stuffs the pipe loosely into the back of his pants so it runs up the length of his spine with the twisted end hidden just behind his head. Nicky's demeanor changes completely as he rises and turns to face the Ragman with his hands in the air in what seems to be an act of surrender.

Nicky The OX:
"OK OK...I give....take me in...just don't hurt me any more."

Nicky thinks to himself and he stands in place and awaits the hero's approach...

Nicky The OX:(to himself)
..."OH man!...I cant wait till dis fool walks over here to arrest me or whatever. I'm gonna ring dis fella's bell! heheheh"

[Ragman]

Wow...that was....easy?

Something in the back of the Ragman's mind...or maybe someone...raises the flag of caution. After this lengthy scuffle in the street, would he really give in that quickly?

Then again...he could be telling the truth.

As he begins to walk over to the Ox, he borrows a few souls' endurance...just in case.

[npc2]

As the cautious Ragman approaches the huge man, Nicky does all he can to resist spoiling the surprise. The Ox unintentionally smile as he speaks aloud, his words echo with a greasy sarcasm down the damp ally way.

Nicky The "Ox":
"Like I sez,...I'm done. Had enough n' all."

Almost giddy with excitement at the fact that his trap seems to be working, The "Ox" silently smirks until Ragman is within reach. As swift as his arms will move, and right before the tattered hero can speak, Nicky whips the twisted pipe out from behind his back and brings it down toward his would-be captors head. The streetlight flashes gray off the dull and rusted length of pipe, as it cuts through the steamy night air. Nicky screams out as he forces the blunt weight with all his might.

Nicky the "Ox":
"DIE YOU MOLDY DISHCLOTH!"

[Ragman]

Calm, as though he had seen this coming, he catches the contorted metal cudgel with his left hand. He moved slightly to his right, the pipe was held just above his left shoulder. The sound of a club hitting a down pillow would not reverberate through the alley, being muffled by the cloth. White eyes narrow. The voice, which had been of an even tone the entire encounter, is now deep with grating intolerance.

"My name is the Ragman."

The pipe began to bend and curl. The Ragman forced the metal to his will, twisting it further into a useless mass. He wrenched it from Nicky's hand, letting it clang against the wall. His hands gripped the thug's shirt, just under the neck. Nicky's back slammed into the wall with little regard, the smaller vigilante impossibly holding the man off of the ground.

"You will tell them everything you know, Nicky. If you don't....well..."

Nicky's body is picked up and smashed back into the wall. A couple of bricks crack and give way under the force. Sure to have inflicted immense pain, the Ragman pulls him closer.

"....I am not the Batman."

Another slam into the bricks and mortar and Nicky "the Ox" Ferrelli passes out. The Ragman lets him slide to the ground. As he stands above the subdued combatant, another war rages on inside of him. A knee upon the hard concrete ground, the ragged man leans closer. Tattered patches claw at Nicky's clothing. The Ox's breath is shallow, but enticing. He has done many horrible things. He needs punishment. He needs to surrender. Give him to us. Make him one with us. We need him! He must be punished! Vengeance is ours by right! We WILL HAVE IT!

"NO!"

The Ragman stumbles back, falling to his backside. Looking past arched knees, his breath heavy, the street-savvy savior stares in horror to what he may have done. The scraps of his suit slowly retreat from Nicky's face and body, like a wave returning to the sea. On his hands, he crawls to his captive.

Thank God he's breathing. He'll be alright.

Ragman's entire body tensens with rage. He retreats far back into his mind and the laughing screams of the souls' pleasure grow silent to his ears.

That's ENOUGH....of that. I'll deal with all of you later. Right now, we have somewhere to be.

Using scraps of whatever material is available, the daunted vigilante solemnly ties the man down.

Damn. He has to have one. Everybody does.

Riffling through Nicky's pockets, the Ragman continues his search. A glint catches his eye. Leaning over, he retrieves a cell phone that had been tossed about during the struggle. As he opened it, a large crack on the screen sent a fractured glow onto his face.

"Two bars. Nice, Nicky."

He pushes a few numbers and brings the phone to his upturned mask.

........

"Hello, Gotham City Police? Id like to report an incident."

........

"7th and Kubert. Assault. Bring an ambulance. He's going to need it."

The Ragman pulled his mask back down and set the cell phone, still on, at the feet of Nicky "the Ox". He stands up.

"Thanks for the phone, Nicky. Be a good boy in jail."

A flutter of fabric. A cool breeze whips through. The Ragman is gone. His actions tonight are left unnoticed, save for an unconscious thug, a cell phone....and a small bit of cloth...

A rag.

Gently settling on the cold concrete ground.

[NPC1]

Several minuets pass....

Residents are awakened by a thunderstorm of activity. Blue and red flash like lightning across glass and brick. The clamorous figures moving about below stir the curiosity of the meek. Shyly, people skulk about their apartments, peeking through drapes and blinds and half-cocked doors.

Bright white light interrupts the symphony intermittently, photography captures every conceivable angle of the scuffle. Police officers swarm the alleyway collecting evidence and statements. An indistinguishable Crown Victoria rolls to a stop just short of the well-orchestrated chaos. The passenger door opens. The shine off a black pair of shoes fades dimly. Dark gray slacks become hidden in an all-encompassing trench coat. A loud, commanding voice slices through the air.

"Someone wanna tell me what the HELL is going on here?!"

Detective Harvey Bullock takes one last, agonizing drag from his cigarette before tossing it to the ground. He steps forward a few feet, then places his fists on his hips, gathering his bearings. Bullets in the walls. Some blood on the ground. A few rags and trash scattered everywhere. The usual Gotham City night.

"...and who the heck is that?"

Bullock thrusts both his arms out at the battered figure being escorted to the back of an ambulance. Almost on cue, an officer chimes in.

"One: Nicky "the Ox" Ferelli. Runs with the Santoros. Wanted for theft, grand larceny, smuggling, extor--"

"What'er you? A freakin' encyclopedia?! Next you're gonna tell me he likes taking long walks on the beach and puppies."

A thick arm reaches out and stops Nicky and his escorts. A oily, sarcastic smirk appears on his face as Bullock treads eerily close to the suspect.

"Bet old Bats' did a number on ya..."

Nicky's cold stare is the only answer Harvey gets. Either out of spite or the fact that his jaw is pretty well swollen from the fight.

"Actually, detective, I don't think it was the Batman this time."

"Huh?"

Detective Bullock whips around. The criminal continues to the awaiting ambulance. Another officer stands holding a collection of scrap metal bars and twine, twisted into some sort of shackles.

"I don't think it's Batman's M.O. to use junk to tie up the bad guys."

"Great. Just what we need."

Hat tips back as he stares up into the night sky. A few drops of rain splatter onto his face.

"More freaks."