<div align="center"><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 18pt;"><span class="bbc_u"><strong>Gotham Dealings</strong></span></span></div><div align="center"><strong>26th October 2017 - 3:00 AM </strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Warehouse in the Gotham Industrial District</strong></div><div align="center"><strong>Tagging:</strong>Catwoman, Closed</div><div align="center"><strong>Warning:</strong> Gore, Threats, Violence</div><br/><div align="center">(https://img00.deviantart.net/10be/i/2005/169/8/1/dark_dead_warehouse_by_neo745.jpg)(https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/6/6d/Detective_Comics_818_2nd_print_coverart.jpg)(http://blog.readymag.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/08/moon1.jpg)</div><br/>"Rage? No. This is business." He watched her, looking at the threatening claws she'd readied. It was easy to forget she was more willing to push the violence than most of Gotham's other vigilantes. "Nobody pulls my strings" He barked. He looked as though he was about to continue his reply when two more of his thugs came into the room. They looked around briefly before heading straight for Catwoman. Clearly they had their orders and could at least follow instructions. They tossed their guns aside as they dashed, just a little behind them Two-Face dropped his revolver and pulled out a small, strange dagger. The weapon looked out of place and very old, having a strange set of symbols across it. It was hard to explain but the rusted iron engravings spoke of something ancient and very distinctly evil. The trio approached in unison, the front two going for fairly clumsy tackles only really a threat because they were fairly large men and failing to avoid the impact would certainly floor Catwoman.<br/><br/>But the real danger here was definitely their boss and his wicked blade. There was no doubt he'd use it and he'd already made fairly clear that he was far from above hurting her. No matter how she dealt with the other two he would follow up swiftly, moving in close and striking upwards with the dagger aiming for her center mass. He didn't want to kill her but a bad injury would do plenty. The closer he approached with the weapon the more prevalent the sense of foreboding and unease that the engravings seemed to cause became. It was not dissimilar to the way most people felt when they saw sharks or other apex predators, a sensation driven into people over millennia to be cautious of this threat. As he approached he'd become silent and focused, the room just filed with the sounds of heavy footsteps as they prepared to strike at her. Back outside it seemed no further backup approached.