Earth-52 IC

[Terron]

"It doesn't sound like we have much of a choice either. We need to stop this lunatic before he disrupts the time-space continuum or whatever." Luigi remarks, accommodating his hat. "So I say we should get there as soon as possible. Are you able to cast this... spell... and transport us back in time mister Al-Ghul?"

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The Question

R'as al Ghul. Kate's Arabic was rusty since her classes at West Point, but she knew enough to translate the name into English: The Demon's Head. Though the man himself had been a bit of a recluse, she was well informed on his actions through Wayne Industries. She had remained in the shadows ever since the Cluemaster made his theatrical departure - this seemed the time to make her appearance.

"There are more things in heaven and earth, o Lieutenant, than are dreamt of in your philosophy, to borrow a phrase from the Bard" she said, entering the light. "There is a power in the universe that modern science has not even begun to theorize might exist. Would you believe that a man could fly five years ago? Or that there were space cops with magic rings?"

She turned her attention to Ra's, shadowed by Ubu's massive frame. It was clear the giant could easily crush the feeble man with his thick hands, Ra's still commanded his respect. "I'll be honest - the concept of time travel makes my head hurt. If Cluemaster succeeded in his goals, then doesn't that mean that history would have already rewritten itself, and that this is how everything already turned out? Or are we ahead of some massive temporal tsunami, waiting to crash into the present?" She had questions about the magic that would transport them back into the past, but they remained unspoken, mostly because she really didn't understand much more mysticism than the Kabbalistic traditions she had studied.

Spoiler

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JIC: 1d20

[Terron]

"I would guess that Cluemaster's modifications of the past would take him some time to finish. One doesn't dramatically change written history in a blink, I presume. Specially if one is looking for a particular outcome, yes?" Offers Luigi.

[industrious]

((Skipping ahead now. If anybody objects...well, don't worry, because this part is awesome.))

Ra's Al-Ghul

"I myself do not know. But I would rather err on the side of caution, wouldn't you, Faceless?"

For some reason, the CEO refuses to call the Question by her self-appointed title.

"Let us begin, shall we? Ubu! Take this bag of blessed ashes, and form a seven pointed star circumscribed by the circle of the tachyon collider. The rest of you are to stay within the heptagon formed in its center once the star is complete. Do not cross any of the lines until the spell is finished under any circumstances, or I cannot be held responsible for your fate. Is this understood?"

Some minutes later, the circle is complete, and the group remains huddled in the center, as Ra's slowly steps up, and begins the invocation.

"هناك سبعة الكائنات التي ليست آلهة. كانت موجودة قبل أن يحلم الإنسانية الآلهة. وبعد أن وجود إله آخر ميت. هناك سبعة كائنات موجودة لأن العميق في قلوبنا، ونحن نعلم ان وجدت." he intones, and the room goes quiet. Dimly, each realizes that there should be ambient sound. Should be something to hear from outside or in; the howl of wind, an approaching car, a leaky pipe. And yet...silence.

At each point where the symbol meets the shadow of the collider, a tall thin candle has been placed unlit.



"الليلة يجب علينا استدعاء كل منهم على الوفاء طلبنا. هذه الليلة سوف ندعوهم لاستجداء المساعدات والاهتمام."

It now feels intensely crowded in that center heptagon, as if the world itself has crowded in close to examine and to listen. The silence fell away, replaced by a half-seen and half-felt rhythm that was not wind or water or anything but the world itself, moving to the words that the aged CEO intoned.


"رب القدر، الأول لانهائية ، أتوسل اليك. يمنحنا القوة لضمان تدفق كتابك من أي وقت مضى صحيحا ، من الفجر إلىالنور أول مرة في نهاية. فتح البوابات من الوقت بالنسبة لنا."

The candle in front of them flickers to life, burning with a bright red flame.

"سيدة الموت ، والثاني لانهائية ، أتوسل اليك. دعونا التقدم بعيدا عن اجتماعنا الثاني وصوب الأول. تسمح لنا بالسفر إلى الوراء عبر المجال الخاص."

The next candle is widdershins to the first, and an orange flame begins to consume the wax. The not-wind begins to howl all the fiercer, but the fires remain perfectly still and upright.

"سيدي الحلم ، وثالثا لانهائية ، أنا ألتمس اليك. اسمحوا أوهام وكوابيس الماضي تظهر مرة أخرى؛ السماح للأحلام الشبابيعود للبشرية. السماح للرمال الزمن وبدوره عكس مسارها."

A yellow flame emerges next, and Ra's is forced to pause for breath, the tangible forces causing him to shudder and gasp. Ubu steps forward to help him, but is waved off.

"تدمير الرب، الرابع لانهائية ، أتوسل اليك. دعونا مزق فتح هذا الصنم كاذبة دعا السببية ، والحفاظ على الخلق الأصلي.السهم قد تايم تتحطم في متناول الخاص."

He seems to gain strength through defying the forces arrayed against him; resistance and obstinacy power his words now. They flow through him like an Old Testement Prophet, shouting his chant of defiance to High Heaven. The green flame is lit.

"الرغبة الرب، الخامسة من لانهائية ، أنا ألتمس اليك. اسمحوا لنا سيسود خلال دخلاء؛ انتصارنا تريده. في وسعكم لهذانرجو صالح."

The blue flame emerges after a brief pause in which the winds nearly die down, yet it burns by far the brightest of the four.

"الرب اليأس والسادس من لانهائية ، أنا ألتمس اليك. دعونا مقامرة سعادتنا في السحب من الوقت. فتح الأبواب لأخطاء الماضي والحزن."

An indigo flame flickers to life on their right side, barely visible.

"سيدة الهذيان، السابع لانهائية ، أتوسل اليك. اسمحوا البوابات المفتوحة وقت الظهر عند اكتمال مهمتهم. وربما يعودون الى مستقبل مألوفة وغريبة ، وبالقرب منها، وبعيدا عن المنزل."

The violet fire burns brightly, and unlike all of the others, flickers and dances crazily.

"فتح بوابات!" Ra's cries out, "فتح غيتس! فتح غيتس! يا سبعة اللوردات والسيدات! A claw-like hand is lifted up; skin stretched thin over bone and sinew. And the Gates Open.

A blinding flash, then everything is still, and dark, and cold.

[industrious]

Crime Alley, 30 years ago

No matter how far back you go, this place remains constant. A place of poverty and misery and filth and decay. 20 years ago (10 from now), this place would come to be temporarily known as Finger Alley, after the plentiful supply of budget-considerate ladies of the night. A crime wave seven years later would cause the place to be renamed Ripper Alley, until the general trend that swept Gotham simply returned it to its roots. Crime Alley. Where dark deeds are committed so regularly, that insurers would label anything lost in their willful neglect and the police would deem any death there a suicide.

The last time the group was here was after a particularly bizarre series of murders, and a confrontation with a group of individuals known to them only as The Man in the White Suit, the Woman in Black Leather, and the Hippie in Clashing Colors.

The group comes to on the rooftops of Crime Alley and opposite one of the narrow alleys that was the emergency exit of a vintage movie theater, the Cluemaster stares at them with no small degree of shock, dropping his briefcase onto the roof.

"No," he breathes. "How can you be here? You aren't supposed to be here!"

Spoiler

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Combat Time. The Cluemaster rolled a 15 on initiative. Rolls in the OOC thread. You are allowed to post an initial reaction here, though, or put that in with your combat post.

[ChronicLunacy]

Deadshot

As the spell completed and the deafening roar of energy rose up to swallow them whole, Deadshot (of course) cried out, "Wait! I've changed my mind! I'm allergic to the eighties!" but then he was gone along with the other Gotham Knights, leaving only an echo behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ooh...did anyone get the number of that metaphysical bu- oh hey!" Deadshot said as he got his feet underneath him, wavering back and forth a bit as he got used to the feeling of solid ground again. He seemed to perk up when he recognized Cluemaster right in front of them. "It's you!" he said, unnecessarily. "Hold still, I brought you a present." he added, raising his arm to firing level.

[Terron]

Black Balestatore's scarf flickered with the impassive wind, and then, with the last intonation from the sage, his dark figure was gone in a flash of light, so bright he had to cover his own eyes.

When everything returned to normal, he found himself in a familiar place, a place of obscure and terrible deeds. But there was no time to think about the past. Cluemaster was there, defenceless. His gangster instinct took over for a second, Luigi outstretched his arm making something metallic sent a shiny reflex from his white gloved hand. In the blink of an eye, he swung his arm, throwing the small knife straight towards the Cluemaster.

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up
Bruised, Injured.

Time travel, at least for Lyle Bolton, was unpleasant. As Ra's finished his mystic incantations, Lock-Up found himself feeling as though he were the sand in an hourglass, being siphoned off, squeezed, and then reassembled on the other end of a very thin tunnel. It disagreed with his stomach, to say the least. As his senses returned to normal, Lock-Up glanced around himself. Crime Alley. Rooftops. There's the old theater. And that means the Waynes had died right... there, in the brutal double-homicide that had driven their young son tragically insane. And then, there, the Cluemaster. Lock-Up points his nightstick at the villain. "Hands up," he growls. "Like it or not, you're coming with us, Arthur."

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The Question

Kate listened as Ra's intoned his spell. The hairs at the back of her neck began to stand up; she could feel the power behind his words as he spoke. Though he was just this side of being an invalid, the old man still had powers that made him a force to be reckoned with.

Her brow began to furrow as she listened to him speak. Something was familiar about his words - she was having trouble translating them from Arabic into English, but she knew they were about gods - no, entities before gods. Beings without ends. Endless.

It wasn't until the end of the ceremony that she truly remembered. A similarly frail man released from a mystic circle - far too similar to the one she stood in - a man who was a being beyond mortal comprehension. The circle was in a warehouse owned by Wayne Enterprises. Dream of the Endless he called Himself - and His sister was Death. Seven beings beyond the limitations of the universe - Hell, for all she knew, they created the limitations.

And Ra's al Ghul, the Demon's Head, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, knew of them. It all clicked - far too late for her to do anything about it. Ra's finished his chant, and the ritual was complete.

She wasn't sure what time travel was going to be like - would there be the crash of distant thunder and flashes of light? Would there be pain? Would she see things that would drive her mad? It happened between the blinking of her eyes - in one moment, she was in the tachyon collider chamber, and the next, she was in Crime Alley. Her head snapped upwards as she heard the Cluemaster's voice.

"The same goes for you, Brown. You made it easy for us to track you down when you started getting ideas for capers from Back to the Future II. " She put an edge into her voice to taunt the Cluemaster - she wanted him focused on her, not on her allies.

Spoiler

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JIC: (1d20)[20]

[DeafnotDumb]

Lieutenant Walker

Normally, Katherine would respond to the Question's snippy Shakespeare with something equally snippy if cruder, but something was bothering her. Should she go back to Gotham, thirty years ago, she would not in the eyes of the city be a cop. Technically, she would not be a cop, just a nosy busybody with a badge thirty years out of date the wrong way with an authority derived from the barrel of a gun and a pointy metal stick. The thought made her bones ache. She would still be a cop in her head, where it counted, but everybody who took a vengeance a step too far or murdered for the sake of their streets or their greed or in anger was a cop in their head, too. Acting like the law was derived from you and you alone... that was a path for disaster.

The policewoman's too preoccupied with these thoughts to really notice her body moving into Ra's circle, not really believing anything's going to happen. Truth be told, she's half-humoring the old man, expecting him to do something to reassure himself and then have them go on their merry, sane, way. Then Ra opens his mouth, and the world changes.

Lieutenant Walker stares. "Holy-"

Time changes. Things whip by in the corner of her mind. Colors of dreamdust and nightmares run inside her eyeballs, etching images in strange inks across the contours of her sight. Katherine tries not to throw up.

"-Sh-

Katherine lands. Her skin is an unhealthy pale, and her eyes have sunken inside themselves so much that they seem almost black. She does not look healthy. Presumably, time-travel has some equivalent to airplane sickness, because Katherine's never liked that feeling of being in the control of another driver so entirely either. She gasps out loud, and looks around her. Crime alley. Good. It's still Gotham. It looks all wrong, out of place in ways that she can't understand, but it's still Gotham. She'll be okay long as she is in Gotham.

And there are crooks to catch. Katherine grips her cane and looks around for Stephanine. She's still sweating from the journey. "Kid? You okay? You here? Looks like there's gonna be a fight."

Spoiler

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Initiative: (1d20+3)[10]
JIC: (1d20)[10]

[industrious]

The Spoiler

Stephanie has her head buried in a garbage can on the roof, and is apparently lodging a formal protest with her stomach.

She still gives a thumbs up, though.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The Question

Kate seizes the moment and springs forward at the Cluemaster. As her feet leave the tenement's roof, she realizes it's going to be a close thing. As she arcs across the night sky, her blue trenchcoat flutters in the wind, and her arms extend to grasp at the Cluemaster. Her feet touch solid ground, though a lot closer to the edge than she'd like. She instinctively grabs the villain, partially to keep him from escaping, but more to keep her balance. She aims a right jaw, hoping to keep his attention focused on her, and not Deadshot's steady aim.

Spoiler

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Attack Roll, 2 points of Power Attack: (1d20+9)[16]

[industrious]

The Cluemaster

"You know, I've been wondering,"

The Question barely makes it over the edge, and her slippery balance proves her undoing. The Cluemaster easily blocks her blow, and reposts, not with a punch, but another of those little metal gas balls.

"What would it be like if you actually didn't have a face?"

Spoiler

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Make a Reflex Save, DC 20 vs. the Suffocate Effect.

Suffocate Effect: -1 on attack, Defense, Reflex saves. Only a standard action per turn, and movement is at half speed. Constitution check each round at DC 10 (+1 per round) or fall unconscious, then dying, then dead.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The Question

Though her initial strike was clumsy, she had rolled with her landing enough to avoid the Cluemaster's little metal ball. "What makes you so sure I actually don't?" Her taunts had clearly unnerved him, so she kept up the banter, hoping to further keep him off his game.

Spoiler

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JIC: [roll]1d20[/roll]

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up
Bruised, Injured.

Gotham's premier security agent braces himself for combat when the Question leaps over the divide between buildings and very nearly gets something noxious thrown at her by an unstable super-villain, but stops short when she successfully avoids it. He glances over at Detective Walker, looking slightly unsteady - slightly more unsteady - as a result of their temporal transmission. His right hand darts to his belt and withdraws one of his grapple guns. He tosses it to her and starts rushing towards the edge of the building, intent on vaulting across and joining in on the battle.

"Point and shoot!" he calls to her. "It does the rest!"

With that said, he vaults across the rooftop chasm and lands slightly behind the Question, rising up to his full height, monstrously broad, his eyes wide and glaring.

"Brown! Last chance. Surrender before we tear you apart."

Actions:

Spoiler

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Standard Action: tossing a grapple-gun over to Detective Walker.
Move Action: using a Running Jump (17 ft.) to clear to gap and reach the other rooftop.
Free Action: being a grim, scowling vigilante.
JIC: (1d20)[6]

[industrious]

Cluemaster

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Toughness Check:(1d20+4)[18]

The knife slices into the Cluemaster's shoulder, and he grunts in acknowledgement. But the cut is neither deep nor in a particularly essential place , so the man remains standing all the same.

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Current Condition: Injured and Bruised

Deadshot's Turn

[ChronicLunacy]

Deadshot
Defense: 22
Condition: Unharmed

"Watch the birdie..." Deadshot said as he jumped into the air, not over the gap but straight up so that he could see his adversary over Lock-Up's considerable bulk. His silenced wristol spat out a single, rubber round headed unerringly for the Cluemaster's noggin'. The shot, whipped straight past Lock-Up's cheek and over the brim of Question's fedora in order to strike the target.

Spoiler

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Blast 10 (Power Attacking for 2; DC25 Toughness): (1d20+10)[25]Precise Shot 2 removes any penalties Deadshot might otherwise incur from shooting into a melee.

[industrious]

The Cluemaster

The Cluemaster neatly sidesteps the shot; a chunk of roofing tile is blown off instead.

"Thanks for the advice."

God, that was irritating.

Walker's Turn

[ChronicLunacy]

Deadshot
Defense: 20
Condition: Unharmed

"Keep talking, douchebag." Deadshot growled, annoyed beyond belief that a second-rate hack like Cluemaster had caused him to miss. This time he made sure to focus on his aim and utilized his gauntlets' burst fire mode to make it that much harder to dodge. His shots whizzed by Lock-Up and Question, missing them by centimeters.

Unfortunately, it seemed like the more irritated Deadshot became, the less accurate his shots ended up...

Spoiler

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Autofire Blast 8 (Accurate Attack for 2 and All-Out Attack for 2) - DC23+Autofire Toughness: (1d20+14)[15]
EDIT: Aaand I've already spent a hero point this round. Thanks a lot, dice roller. You're a peach.

[DeafnotDumb]

Lieutenant Walker

"Thanks!" Walker shouts as she catches the grappling hook, forgetting to be nasty in the heat of the moment. Point and shoot, point and shoot... how hard could it be? With her aim? Well, at least it was better odds than jumping across the rooftops.

The policewoman aims, fires, braces with the recoil and clumsily makes it across the gap, rolling with the motion on her good leg and rising up just next to the Cluemaster, dropping Lock-Up's gadget in her pocket at the most dramatically appropriate time. Anyone who suspects that Walker has a theatrical streak a mile wide has good evidence here, despite any of her protestations.

She takes a quick look around, hoping Stephaine's not around to see, and then draws her swordstick, keeping the sheath in her other hand. "Brown." She says, to grab his attention. She jams the sheath towards his knee, and draws the grip of her cane up to meet his chin. "I don't like abusive fathers."
The swordstick hacks down towards his legs, where it's very unlikely to kill but really likely to really, really hurt. "Understand me?"

Spoiler

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Spending a Hero Point to Surge. Quick Draw feat to draw swordstick as free action.
First attack - To hit: (1d20+13)[33]
Second Attack - To hit: (1d20+13)[18]
Toughness DC 23. Reserving two Hero Points to force him to re-roll any successful saves.

[industrious]

Deadshot and Sophistemon

Unfortunately, the Cluemaster is far too nimble for Deadshot. At this distance, at this time of night, with the two others giving him cover...there were any number of factors that he could be blamed for.

Some of the bullet spray misses Arthur Brown. Some of it scatters harmlessly amongst roof tile and rat nests. And some of it...some of it hits Lock-Up. In the shoulder blade. And it stings.

Spoiler

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Lock-Up, collect another Bruised condition, and a Stunned condition that wears off once combat is over. Which is this post, but still. Post accordingly.

Spoiler

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DC 28: (1d20+4)[21]
DC 23: (1d20+4)[13]

The Cluemaster

"Well, if it isn't Officer Freak McCripple. A few decades off your beat, gir-ACK!"

The first hit shuts him up, and the Cluemaster staggers back, reeling. The second knocks him out entirely, and the man collapses onto the rooftop floor, blonde hair draped across the filth and dirt.

The Spoiler

The Spoiler takes her own grapple-a simple store-brand hook with attached hemp, and swings over. For a long moment, she just stands there, staring at his unconscious body.

"This," she says quietly, rage dripping from every word. "is for forcing Mom into DRUGS!"

She sprints the short distance to his form, and delivers a sharp kick to his side. Everybody can hear ribs crack at the impact.

"This is for keeping us POOR!"

"This is for being a scumbag CRIMINAL!"

"This is for making my glad you KILLED my BABYSITTER!"

"This is for never too COWARDLY to be AROUND! EVER!"

Each savage outcry is half-shouted, half-sobbed as she delivers kick after kick to his limp, yielding form. Some of the group tries to stop her, but she manages to break free, again and again to vent her rage against her father.

And when her shoulders slump with exhaustion, and she can kick no more, clumsy, shaking hands pull the handgun she had taken from her father's underling, and point it at the man's head, the end of the barrel wavering from side to side.

"And this," she manages to choke out. "This is for being a lousy father..."

Spoiler

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No, she hasn't shot yet.

Somebody stop her...

[Terron]

"Stop there lass, you don't want to do something you'll repent off. He's already finished, and with the amount of kicks you've giving him, I bet he lost some years of life already. Besides, he IS your father after all..." Luigi says, but his words carry out more than bare rationale.

Will 17 for emotion control, removing hate, and infusing, if possible, some love!
I will also roll a diplo check: (1d20+11)[26]
JICR(1d20)[18]

[industrious]

((A bit more tact, a bit less humor.))

Stephanie Brown

"Go. ****. yourself."

The barrel swivels to Luigi now, and the caliber looks far too large for the man's liking.

"Who the hell are you to say that? I don't even know you, and you want to waltz in here and dispense some nice, fatherly advice? Do something I regret? Like what? Stopping the man who's made my life a living hell? Someone who drives my mother to pills and me to...to this?"

She jabs at him repeatedly with the gun's barrel, he backs up with each thrust of the weapon, noting that her finger is already on the trigger.

"He is NOT my father. Fathers are kind. Fathers protect you. Fathers raise you. He. Never. Did. You don't know me. Got it? 'Stop there lass?' You stop. You don't talk to me. Ever. "

The only possible good thing that's come out of Luigi's statement is that what once was an impending patricide has been delayed-at least for a little while.

[ChronicLunacy]

Deadshot

"Kid, stop." Deadshot said, stepping in front of Luigi and in the path of the gun barrel.

"Hey..." Deadshot sighed, "I barely know you, and I'm not in any position of authority over you, so I'm not going to act like your father or anything, but believe me when I tell you that this could ruin your life. I come from just the sort of dysfunctional family you do, and if I'd let that take me over I could have become something completely different than I am now. If you don't want to be like him, if you want to be better than him, put that thing away. Be the hero he isn't. Every step you take in the right direction, know that you're spitting in his face while he rots in jail like the loser he is. You get me?"

In his mind, Deadshot was reliving that fateful day when he'd shot the gun out of his brother's hands. His hands and the branch underneath him were trembling and shaking, but his aim was true. If he'd missed, or hadn't taken the shot, his life would have lost all meaning. He didn't want Steph to go down that path.

Spoiler

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Diplomacy: (1d20+13)[21]
JIC: 1d20=13

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up
Bruised, Injured.

Deadshot's rubber bullet strikes him in the shoulder with force enough to knock him to his knees and re-open one of the wounds on his chest, which begins to bleed freely again until the absorbent under-layer swells enough to block the flow. His head swims with pain, and his senses only return after the Cluemaster has been defeated by a few well-aimed strikes with a sword-cane. Lock-Up prepares himself to chew out Deadshot (what kind of a master marksman misses the same target not once but twice?) and congratulate the detective when he hears quick, hard impacts and the distinctive sound of breaking rib.

He looks up in time to see the Black Crossbow trying to diffuse the situation and get a gun in his face for the trouble. He can hear Stephanie's shaky voice, the lump in her throat as she shouts at the black-coated vigilante, and the iron in her words. She's emotional, yes, but serious. The hate's in her, the consumptive, burning anger that he's all too familiar with himself, when his blood's boiling with the heat of the chase and he can almost feel his hands on his enemy. It took two years of therapy to get that under control, and he meditates nightly to keep it chained beneath the surface, so he can channel it when needed.

As Deadshot finishes his own spiel, Lock-Up manages to get back on his feet. His entire upper body radiates with pain, but he straightens up and speaks like a man with no bullet wounds. "Shut up," he tells Deadshot. "Let her kill him." He looks at the girl, meets her eyes. "I've never bought in to that crap, 'if you kill him you'll be just like him'. Arthur Brown's a scumbag, as low as they get. You could kill him five times over and still be a better person." He motions to her father's comatose body. "Go ahead. This is what you came for, isn't it? So you could plug him when you got the chance? Put the gun against his head and pull the trigger. Hell, empty the clip! I'll even give you some time to celebrate when you're done."

He shrugs. "And then, when you're done celebrating and feeling good, I'll beat you unconscious and throw you in a cell. Because it's never just one, Steph. I've dealt with criminals and madmen long enough to know that. You can say 'he deserves it!' all you want, and you might even be right, but killing him won't give you back a happy childhood. You'll still be the daughter of a crook, your mom'll still be hooked on drugs, and you'll be a murderer." He looks down at himself, appraising, before staring back into her eyes. "I'm wounded. I've taken two shots to the front and one to the back. You might be able to take me. But what about them?"

He moves one hand in an arc that takes in the others. The Black Crossbow, Walker, Deadshot, the Question. "You've got some skill. Natural talent honed by a steady training regimen. You might be able to get away. But what then? You'll escape into the 80s? Even if you make it back to the present, you'll be a fugitive and we'll hunt you down. You'll have to kill more people just to stay out of prison. Cops, security, other heroes. Innocent people who had nothing to do with your father or his stupid mistakes or your crappy childhood. None of their deaths will make it any better, none of the killing will fix anything meaningful. You can't repair the past with a bullet."

His eyes bore into hers. "So, choose. If you're a killer, put a bullet in his brain and get it over with. But if that's who you are, if that's what you want to be, we're going to have to bring you in and lock you up. Because that's who we are." He rests a heavy hand on the grip of his nightstick. "I'd be disappointed to see it happen, though. You've got potential in you, enough to be something really special. But it would die with him, and then you'd be nothing more than another petty creep in my prison." He pauses to let it all sink in before concluding. "Choose. Life or death. Freedom or fugitive. Hero or villain. Make your choice."

Actions:

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Diplomacy check: (1d20+22)[39].
Just in case roll: (1d20)[3]
Crossing my fingers...

[DeafnotDumb]

Lieutenant Walker

Katherine moves towards the kid, hand on her stick and mouth open to dissuade her from her course of action, but then Lock-Up speaks and there's nothing else that needs to be said. Instead, she cautiously reaches towards Steph and places a hand on her shoulder, a gesture that could be seen as parental or a quick way to grab her back if need be. It's probably a combination of the two. She gives Lock-Up a grateful nod as she looks in his direction, and keeps the comforting grip on the girl.

Spoiler

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Aiding Lock-Up, Diplomacy roll: (1d20+20)[28]
A +2 bonus for defeating a DC 10 check, and another +1 for for each set of 10 that the DC is exceeded by.

[industrious]

Crime Alley Rooftop

Stephanie just makes choked sounds; tears run down her full-face mask and stain the black, so that it's transparent. Slowly, the gun starts moving back down. Back towards being pointed at the ground.

Her rage dissipates, replaced by an exhaustion both mental and physical, and her breaths are long and ragged.

"I..."

BANG.

She stares at the gun she's holding, panic evident through the lenses of her mask.

"Itwasn'tmeItwasn'tme."

It wasn't.

So caught up were each of them in Stephanie's near-patricide that they hadn't noticed what was happening in the Alley below them.

A somewhat youngish couple. Dressed far too finely for this part of town, though; the man is wearing a smart suit and trenchcoat; and the woman, pearls. More accurately, though, the man had been wearing a smart suit and trenchcoat. The man was gone; a corpse remained. Shot by a mugger in front of his wife and young child, no older than ten.

"We...we should help him...right?"

It's terrible to watch; the woman is begging him to stop, but the mugger's gun is already pointed at her...

But each remembers Ra's commandment. Not to interfere. Not even to help. Because of the changes that could be made. They were there to stop the Cluemaster from changing history, and it would be hypocritical to make changes of their own. If they were heroes.

But that young boy...

Spoiler

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A trip to Crime Alley in the past without seeing this? What sort of Gotham campaign did you think this was?

Reactions from everybody, and then it's back to the present. Which is the future, so...you get what I'm saying.

EDIT: Kate and Lock-Up know who is being shot due to their connections with the Waynes via social circles/gossip or business partners.

[Terron]

It failed him again. His supernatural ability was never very trusty, but it had been worth the try. At least, he'll have had to dodge the shot in the worst case scenario, but would have saved the girl from a grim destiny. At the moment the gun was pointed at him, he remembered how many people had begged for mercy, lying in the floor, broken. He had just smiled and empty the clip on them. It almost nauseates him to remember the kind of person he used to be. He didn't want that for the girl, he didn't want that for anybody; but he could use that argument in this situation. He'll rather get shot by an angry girl.

But now his past strikes again, as he witnesses an image way too familiar. Cold blood killing. But this was different, that was not a professional, it was just a mugger armed with a gun, all his courage was that gun, all he was, was that gun; if the weapon was gone, he'll yelp like a child and run away like the rat he is. It was just a well placed crossbow bolt. He knew Deadshot could have a better chance at that than him, after all that guy's name is Deadshot, despite shooting his comrade in the back.
But the sorceror's words were clear. If they intervene in the past, repercussions could ripple like a stone in a pond, and change Gotham, even the world.
"No lass, if I don't know anything about you, you don't know anything about paying attention. Ra' Al-Ghul clearly told us not to intervene in the past, or we could alter the flow of time. And even if we are speaking of a self serving evil sorceror, I would agree with him in this case." Impassibly, he stared, frowning at the macabre scene.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The Question

Kate was still in a crouched position as the Lieutenant cracked Cluemaster in the knee. As Stephanie sprinted across the filthy rooftop to deliver her father the savage beating, she moved to intercept - still, the spry young girl slipped from her clutches to continue to scream at the man she blamed for the way her life turned out. Deep down, Kate couldn't condemn her - she remembers a recent time when she wore a red dress and wanted to make the world pay. She's also quite relieved when the words that make Stephanie stand down come from Deadshot and Lock-Up. She'd already laid the groundwork when she noticed her picking up the gun, but it was them that took her back to the side of angels.

She'd been restraining Cluemaster when the crack of a pistol came from the alley below. She rushed over to the side to witness the murder - the father dead, the mother and son remaining. Something tickled in the back of her mind; it seemed familiar somehow. Then, she glanced around and saw a crawl bearing the date. This time, this place...it was happening now.

"Bruce," she whispered, and from beneath a layer of pseudoderm it's clear her voice breaks. "Poor, poor Bruce..." She laid the Cluemaster down, and headed towards the edge. Her face, of course, was blank and featureless, but her body language was clear: her stride was determined, her fists clenched with righteous fury, the tails of her trenchcoat fluttered in the wind the wings of an avenging angel. A son needs his mother, she thought, much like a daughter needs her father.

Spoiler

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(1d20)[7]

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up
Bruised 2, Injured
Hero Points: 2

The gun wavered, shaking in her hand, before finally lowering. Lock-Up breathes a soft sigh of relief.

It's over; crisis averted, everyone can go -

BANG.

He ignores Spoiler's frantic professions of innocence and rushes to the side of the roof to look down into the alley below. He sees the gunman, the dead husband, the pleading wife, and the boy. The boy, with tears streaming down his face and a dawning blankness in his eyes. The boy, whose mind will die with his parents in that alley. The boy, who will spend the rest of his life as a delusional lunatic locked away in a dark and brooding mansion, cared for by the world's most loyal manservant. He can still get there, jump down into the alley and break the mugger in half, save the mother and give the boy a chance. He reaches for his grapple... but Walker has it. And then Ra's warnings echo in his head, and his own lecture flows back into him.

You can't fix the past.

He turns away from the alley and doesn't flinch at the sound of the second shot.

"No," he tells her. He's telling all of them. "What's happened has happened. There's no changing it."

Actions:

Spoiler

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Move action: to approach the edge of the rooftop and look down.
Move action: to return to the others.
Just in case roll: (1d20)[6]