The back roads leading away from Crest Hill were able to endure the inevitable staining of the daily dawn shower. They were an ideal example of how I could make this play out if I was careful. Though the soft tap of rain on my back insisted on mocking me with insignificant comfort. This path, closed to general public, was our main link from the cave to the city almost every night I can remember operating beneath him. The thought that it would be used for his new purpose caused my palms to break out in cold sweat and my stomach to squeeze up into my throat. I reached the city limits within the hour, wandering steadily to the bus station I remembered nearest from my rout.
It was surprisingly empty for this time of day; a pair of sleeping drunks occupying a corner and abandoned, pillaged luggage scattered around the rusted seats the only sign of current use. I scanned over the departure times posted on the board near the ticket booth, finding the earliest an hour and a half from present. A memory pushed through my blank consideration and I headed for the men's room, which to note had a far worse stench than the first room. I set my pack down on the chipped tile and searched for the small pair of pliers in my emergency pouch, sanitizing them with an alcohol swab and running them under the chilled tap. Leaning over the sink, I pulled the corner of my mouth towards my ear and grasped the sides of my back left molar with the ends of the pliers. I hesitated a moment, flicking my eyes to their reflection and back to where they should have been concentrated before prying the tooth loose with a swift movement of the wrist, enough to pull the root from the gums. I let out a sharp breath and spit the initial blood into the sink, feeling the ache shoot and dull throughout my jaw. The pliers and tooth fell to the sink as I searched my pack for benzocaine swabs to place between my cheek and gums. It would essentially have the same effect as the market brand Orajel
with double the dosage. I stood and retrieved the tooth from between the catch for the drain and the bottom of the sink, setting it on the counter and crushed it with the blunt edge of the pliers. The tracking device was still inside, implanted at the end of my first month. Standard procedure.
I made sure it was pulverized before checked the gap in my mouth and leaving back into the main room. I wasn't in any mind to deal with him now; I couldn't have him sending one of the others out to fetch me. I made myself comfortable on one of the benches and pulled out my phone. Kon hadn't responded to the message I sent him earlier, making me wonder if they already had him. I discarded that possibility and opened my systems operations; initiating the kill sequence on the ties between all communications Bat related. I didn't sign up to kill. As far as I was concerned, if Bruce saw no other way to save the city than by resorting against The Code, I didn't belong by his side any more than he honored the cowl now.
I took my seat at the back when the bus arrived, plugging my headphones in and denying the leaking sound of rain against window to infiltrate my thoughts. I leaned against the seat, closed my eyes and took a deep breath to clear my thoughts. This would only slow my plans. They could still be revived, preserved. Objective one, getting away from Bruce, was a success. I needed to find Kon and disappear. I couldn't be around the sickness and rotting and death any longer.
Goodbye Gotham.((Open RP: in result of this: [link]