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The Midnight Crew and the Felt had their fair share of kidnapping and subsequential information-torture sessions. More commonly caught enemies on both sides included Deuce and Doze, with a little variance either way. There were easy members to nab, and then there were very difficult ones.
The other three Crew members were very difficult to catch, Boxcars for obvious reasons being the hardest. Lord English himself, Scratch, and Snowman were the three never caught by the Crew. A few others like Cans and Quarters they didn't even attempt to.
In any case, the ones already listed were either too hard or too easy, not enough information to get from these and others. The other factor for capture was importance to the gang, and information that they could get. For this reason, Droog and Slick were most important from the Crew. Crowbar, Fin, Trace, and occasionally Stitch were the Felt's targets.
Of course, it was never easy.
Crowbar was on a heist with the solids, minus Doze. The poor sap usually only got in the way, so he was on guarding the car duty. Fin and Trace had disappeared immediately once the mission started, their tasks being to meet the contact and to do most of the grunt work, and Die was nowhere to be found. Typical. He found himself stuck with Clover and Itchy. Never a good thing. The two scampered and...danced.... around far too much for his liking.
The abandoned twilight streets of Midnight City quiet other than the two charm-mate's shoes clacking with a bounce filled step and the steady footsteps of Crowbar behind them. Crowbar didn't like the silence that surrounded this street. It gave him an uneasy feeling that they were going to run into trouble. And with how loud his gang members were being, he had no doubt that if anyone were here their attention would be undividedly on them.
They were approaching the street of the building that they were supposed to meet Fin and Trace in when Itchy suddenly dashed off down an alleyway. Clover sprinted behind, leaving Crowbar with the decision to actually follow- or to not. The tiny beat of Clover's shoes were fading when he stepped into the alley, moving briskly.
"Clover, Itchy." He hissed, softer than a shout. His voice tended to travel, but these two were known for being convienently deaf when it came to him. He stepped gingerly over a pile of trash and tried to quickly follow. When he reached the end of the alley, he looked up and down the street. He didn't see Itchy or Clover. This street was a little more well lit, and while that kept any possible enemies from hiding in the shadows, it left him in the open. There was another alleyway across the street, just as dark and filthy as the first. He heard the telltale sound of tiny shoes down it. He jogged quickly over to it before what he expected was Clover, could give him the slip again.
He was careful in entering the alley, making sure to check behind him in case he was followed. The pattering of shoes stopped, he squinted into the dark, seeing a small shape. He was kneeling over a taller shape that was slumped into the wall. He stopped moving towards him, hesitating.
"Clover? What's going on? Why in the hell did you run off like that?" He kept his voice quiet, but Clover jumped in surprise anyway. He turned to Crowbar, tilting his head and walking towards him to get a closer look.
As he got closer, Crowbar's stomach sank. His hat. That wasn't the small bowler hat that Clover wore. And the reason it was so hard to see him was not because of how dark the alley was. It was because of how dark the carapaced person was. Clubs Deuce. And where Deuce was, the rest of the Crew wasn't far behind. In fact, Deuce was reaching for his walkie talkie now, a small exclamation of surprise being released.
Crowbar made a move to make himself scarce, but the body slumped against the wall caught his eye again. Now that he payed more attention, he could see the tell tale top hat of Die. He cursed and lunged towards Deuce, smacking the walkie talkie from his hands and following up with a swift stomp on top of it.
Clubs was quick to jump to action, or more like freak out and toss a few sticks of tiny, small explosion, dynamite alley wall bound. The resulting explosion, while luckily on the other side of Crowbar's unconscious...or dead...gang member, was sure to attract everyone who was out tonight's attention. Deuce took the opportunity to run off. Crowbar had to get out of there before he returned. Find some other members. But he couldn't leave his teammate here. He warily walked around the crumbling bits of wall towards Die and swung one of his lanky arms over his shoulder. He hefted the taller man to his feet, which dragged. He felt the warm trickle of blood on his suit, and nearly lost his slippery grip, keeping his hands on his crowbar and keeping Die from falling out of his arms was difficult. He could feel Die breathing, labored and heavy, which was better luck than he was expecting.
He lugged them off towards the direction he entered the alley, hissing out words to Die.
"Die, Die. Wake up. What happened? I need to know if you saw anyone-Fuck."
When he walked out of the alley, he almost ran straight into Boxcars. He scrambled back, hands tightening both on Die and on his weapon. Boxcars looked in between him and the alleyway where the explosion took place.
-And nearly getting one hit KO'd as Boxcars swung one of his meaty fists at him. He dodged under his arm, dropping Die. He slammed his crowbar into Boxcar's side as hard as he could. Not even a flinch.
"You've got to be fucking kidding me."
A punch connected with his stomach, literally knocking him off his feet. There were footsteps from behind him as he hit the ground next to Die, hard. He pushed himelf up to a crouch quickly, preparing for the next attack. Boxcars was all to ready to deliver, before suddenly stopping short.
"Well, ain't this nice." Slick's voice sneered from a few feet behind him.
Crowbar let out quite a few creative swears and reached into his inner suit pocket for something he kept for emergencies. He froze as he heard a click.
"Remove your hand slowly. If it has that damn bell in it, you're losin' your head." Great. Now Droog was here now. Where the hell was his gang? Nevermind. He knew. Anywhere but where he actually needed them.
He took his hand out slowly, making sure it was open and to the side of his head. His eyes flicked to Die, still unconcious, still bleeding. They were both fucked.
"Drop your crowbar too."
Crowbar gritted his teeth. He hated to be seperated from the only thing that gave him a fighting chance in anything, ever. But he dropped the bar, mirroring his now empty hand with the other one.
"Anything else, sir?" He asked. There may have been a snarky edge to that question. He wasn't surprised when a sharp kick to his lower back was his response.
"Shuddup." Slick snapped at him. "Or we may decide to kill ya anyway."
Yeah, sure. Crowbar wasn't as afraid of that notion as he should be. The Crew would definitely torture him for every scrap of information he had in his fancy leader brain before letting him kick the bucket. He stared down at Die as Droog and Slick exchanged quiet whispers. He looked at his watch, time just barely visible in the street lighting.
3:45 am. He's going to have to remember that for later. Maybe he could find a way to get the watch off, break it, and leave it behind on Die's body. It probably wouldn't help this timeline's him at this moment. But it could both save alternate timelines and himself in the future. That is. If Fin and Trace found it and the Crew didn't.
There was the hard feeling of a gun on his backz
"Alrigh'. Stand up, hands still where we can see them." So it was Slick directly threatening him now. Somehow less comforting.
"Don't try anything." Droog offered, the click of a lighter following his words.
Crowbar moved slowly to his feet, arms getting sore from holding them up this long. Boxcars was tying a loop, that went around one of his wrists. Soon his hands were behind his back, and his suit was manhandled none too gently by Boxcars' large hands to take the bell from its pocket.
"Break the fuckin' thing." Slick ordered.
"Wait." Droog cut in. "We don't know if destroying it will do the same as ringing it."
The gun on Crowbar's back nudged him.
"Will it?"
"So I'm allowed to speak now?" The gun dug in harder. He continued quickly, shimmying his watch off of his wrist. "How the hell should I know? I've never broken it."
"New question. Where are the rest of the bozos you brought."
Crowbar nodded down to Die, rolling his eyes. "Right there. If you need him you may have to stop the-"
"He thought I was Clover!" Deuce piped up. Shit. He had forgotten about the little guy. "And he mentioned Itchy!"
"Anyone else?"
"Sorry, boss...I didn't hear nothin' else."
"Boxcars."
Said carapace roughly grabbed Crowbar by the front of his shirt, throwing him over his shoulder.
"HOLY-Jesus fucking-" Crowbar exclaimed, dropping the watch as he was grabbed. It hit the ground, the clink covered by his loud swearing. Great, now he'd just have to wait until Fin and Trace picked up his trail. He hoped he could survive that long. He hoped Die would survive that long too. The Crew may just leave him to bleed out, if he was lucky.
"Shut up!" Slick practically screamed. His voice was the one loud enough the echo, but everyone loved their internal organs too much to point that out.
"Just knock him out. It's less risky that way."
"That would be the smart decision. I would have done that to you first." Crowbar said sarcastically.
Honestly his sassy mouth was going to get him killed one day. That day luckily was not today. His only response was Slick making a scoffing noise and shuffling around the back so Crowbar could see him beat him into unconsciousness.