Earth-52 IC

[industrious]

Luigi turns, steel in his eyes. With a nimble dodge, he tries to use the momentum of the young man's charge against him, making him stumble forward. "I am no thief, young man. I work with the police. You are doing strange dealings in the opera; my duty is to investigate, for the sake of the lives of these people. Your actions are suspicious enough sir as to rise suspects. Is this a bomb? Are you smuggling? Tell me now!" despite the sharpness of Luigi's words, he's looking for cooperation rather than fear.

Spoiler

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Diplomacy (1d20+9)[16]
JICR [roll1]

Knowledge(law):(1d20+9)[16]

"No. I don't think I will."

He's furious, fingers gripped in a fist. But slowly, he relaxes, and takes out a cell phone. Snaps a picture of Luigi.

"You aren't a member of the police. And even if you are, you've violated so many of my rights as a citizen that I can charge you regardless. Hand it over. Or theater security will grab you, I will press charges, and you will be thrown into the deepest cell that I can manage."

Katherine Walker
Katherine looks at the girl and lets her eat. She can't help but think. Did she ever think this day might be coming? Did she ever try to prepare for it, mentally, the death of her mother? Or had she stayed awake into the morning praying for it to not happen? Or all three?

Katherine remembered Norman and Kima and Jimmy and Danielson. she'd thought they'd been almost invicable at times. Others, she was terrified for their lives. But she'd known, known, that none of them would betray the others. That if they would die it would at least be a threat from outside.

Well, look at how that went.

But Stephanie had to live with that reality throughout her life. Walker might have fooled herself into thinking that her friend would not betray them: the girl knew from young that the people who should help her would hurt her, whether through abuse or neglet, and for a kid she was so old sometimes. So goddamn old. Walker had at least something approaching a proper childhood.

And the worst part of it was that this was not even an uncommon tragedy. It happened every day. Today it just happened to Stephanie Brown, another girl who never deserved the hand life gave her. And all Walker could do was try and teach her how to play it.

She interrupted her thoughts to buy a drink. She was probably going to need another batch by the end of the day.

Steph finishes her batch of waffles. A waiter hands Walker another milkshake. They eat in silence, finish, and return to the crime scene Steph's house.

Allen greets them at the door.

"Stephanie," he says, his voice carefully measured to be reassuring. "I'm going to need to talk to Walker for a little while. May I?"

She nods, runs inside the house. Crispus lights a cigarette.

"So. What are you going to do with her, Lieutenant?"

Floyd Lawton/Deadshot
Defense: 22
Condition: Surprisingly Self-Aware

"No, I just have a narcissistic personality and no ability to recognize that my actions have consequences!" Floyd yelled back, giving the bar wench a thumbs up as he ducked the katana swipe and hit the nunchaku ninja in the bend of his elbow to mess up his swing. He then spun in a circle, swiping the flaming rag close enough to the nunchaku ninja's face to startle him somewhat, jumped on top of the pool table, and flung the molotov cocktail into the katana ninja's chest. The bottle promptly exploded, showering the thug's black pajamas with very clingy fire.

Spoiler

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I guess it's a very small area attack or something? Giving an attack roll anyway.
FIRE: (1d20+9)[16]

The ninja screams as he burns.

Unfortunately, there are now twenty more where the first four came from.

Crap.

Lock-Up

In the afternoon sun, even the murky waters of Gotham Bay are beautiful. As he exits the restaurant with Shondra, after being told that she would like to spend more time with him outside of the Slammer, Lyle Bolton is happy. It's not an emotion that he's altogether familiar with. For too long, Lyle Botlon was an angry man who directed his rage at criminality, the only acceptable target for the brutality he could unleash. He channeled his obsession with upholding perfect order into the first Slammer, which was little more than a neurotically-defended series of holding cells, and in which he kept his carefully hoarded prisoners. It wasn't until meeting Dream and receiving the pseudo-god's gift that he realized that his earlier self may not have been entirely sane. Faced with that sobering truth, Lyle had thrown himself into the disciplines of Eastern meditation and sought tranquility in the repetition of memorized mantras. While this certainly helped, his unease with himself prevented general happiness, and for a long time, maybe too long, he'd had to settle for being content. But he's happy, now, more so than he can remember ever having been before, and it's all due to Shondra Kinsolving.

Her question gives him pause, and he turns to face her. "You mean the Slammer? Or the costume?" He shakes his head. "Both, probably, since they're they're two parts of the same thing." He turns away from the water and motions for her to look inland, at the city itself. "I do this - we do this, you, me, and the Gotham Knights... because it's broken. Gotham City is sick, Shondra. It's not healthy and it's only getting worse. When I put on that costume and go cruising for trouble with Deadshot, we're treating the symptoms of that illness. When I'm in the Slammer, with you and the inmates, we're treating the illness itself. The muggers, the rapists, the druglords and pimps, they're poison, and they've been here so long that the city itself is dying. By setting them straight, by fixing them, we cure Gotham City a little bit at a time, crook by crook, crime by crime." He turns back to face her. "But mostly, I do it because it's what I was meant to do, Shondra."

She listens intently, though Lock-Up can sense she's paying attention as much to tone as she is to the words.

"Lyle...I..."

There is a far too familiar click.

"Don't move."

The man is holding a gun. To both of them. To Shondra.

"Wallet. Watches. Any jewelry."

To. Shondra.

The Question

Kate glances down at Bruce with sympathetic eyes. The lengthy bout of lucidity had clearly strained the last Wayne, and she watches him as his chest rises and falls in his slumber. She brushed an idle lock of hair from his face, and said a silent prayer to the gaunt figure she'd met in a warehouse five years ago. You changed my life that day. Can you at least grant him some peace while he sleeps? This world is too dangerous for him.

After a few moments, Kate creeps silently away from Bruce's bed, opens the door, and slips out. Alfred is not far from the room, and she heads towards him. "He's asleep now, Alfred. He was better than I remember him. I hope he'll still be in a good mood when he awakens."

Goodbyes with Alfred were always strange - she'd once tried to give him a friendly hug as she left, but it made the both of them feel incredibly awkward. The old man deserved better - rest for his years of service, or at the very least transfer to a manor that wasn't slowly eroding. But he was too loyal to the Wayne family, she knew. He would die in Wayne Manor before he stopped serving Bruce. And what then, Bruce? What happens to you then?

There is no answer to Kate's request, no response to her plea.

Alfred nods to her as she exits the manor, holding the door open all the while. Sober and dignified, even to the last.

"It is as pleasant as always to see you, Master Kate. I do hope we can see each other soon."

[Terron]

Luigi shrugs, and simply opens the package and looks to it's contents.

[ChronicLunacy]

Floyd Lawton/Deadshot
Defense: 22
Condition: Curious, but as yet unharmed.

Floyd actually stopped and stared for a second. For the first time he wondered about the particulars of the situation. "Are all you guys here for little old me?" he asked. He started whispering numbers under his breath and pointing as he counted them out. Twenty-one, including Michelangelo from the first set...

"Someone sent-" he pulled out his pistol and shot the nunchaku-wielding ninja in the head, painting the wall red. That's what he got for impersonating a ninja turtle. "-twenty of you just to gank me? I gotta say, I'm a little impressed. You little pajama monkeys want to tell me who it is, so after I'm done I can go shoot him in the face, too?" he grinned.

There really was something wrong with Floyd.

Spoiler

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Assuming still minion rules, so taking 10 on Heavy Pistol (Damage 4 + Power Attack 1 = Damage 5) shot, giving me a 20 to hit on Michelangelo.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

"Christ, Allen." Katherine says, looking at the door to Stephanie's house. She wondered if the kid was listening. "I don't know. I'll take on the kid if that is what it means to give her a half-decent life, but I don't even know if I'm allowed to do that."

Katherine looks at Allen's cigarette and almost thinks to ask for one, but she's gone her life without and one moment of stress is not reason enough to start. Even if it was this moment. She really, really wished she had another drink. One with alcohol in it.

She doesn't bother asking him about the scene inside the house. They've both seen it, and it would only be a delaying tatic. "I might even go and talk to bastard Dent if that's what I have to do, but... what can I do, Crispus? This is too big just for one woman like me." She looks at her friend. "What on earth should I do?"

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

A mugging. In broad daylight. Within jogging distance of the Slammer, Gotham City's premier floating fortress-prison. The audacity of this criminal was galling. Lyle's fingers clench into fists, each one roughly the size and heft of two normal fists put together. Lyle briefly considers charging at the man and beating him into the ground, but then - her throat slit, her bones broken, the look in her eyes as she dies - he forces his hands open and raises them up, a universal motion that translates as 'I surrender and calmly acquiesce'. "Okay," he says. "Okay. Don't do anything hasty." He slowly moves himself into a position where his substantial size conceals Shondra from view and, therefore, from the mugger's gunfire. "I'm going to reach into my rear pocket to get my wallet, okay? I'm not armed. I've got a watch, too, see?" He twists his wrist so that the gold band reflects the sunlight. The watch had been a gift from Lucius, after Bolton Securities had revamped Foxteca's security systems. He would hate to part with it, but it's not like Lucius wouldn't gladly get him a new one; his business was booming.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't have to. When the mugger looks up at Lyle's wrist, his eyes attracted by the twinkling gold, the vigilantism kicks in as though by instinct, and an undisguised Lock-Up darts forward with one fist cocked back. It rockets out in a vicious right cross on a collision course with the mugger's nose. Should it successfully connect with his face, the mugger will be looking forward to some exorbitantly expensive rhinoplastic surgical correction in the near future.

Actions:

Spoiler

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• Move Action 1: to a defensive position, between Shondra and the mugger.
• Speak Action: diplomacy check - (1d20+9)[11]
• Move Action 2: a sudden rush towards the mugger.
• Standard Action: attacking the mugger - (1d20+10)[18]; DC25.
• Misc: just in case - (1d20)[8]

[industrious]

Lock-Up

A mugging. In broad daylight. Within jogging distance of the Slammer, Gotham City's premier floating fortress-prison. The audacity of this criminal was galling. Lyle's fingers clench into fists, each one roughly the size and heft of two normal fists put together. Lyle briefly considers charging at the man and beating him into the ground, but then - her throat slit, her bones broken, the look in her eyes as she dies - he forces his hands open and raises them up, a universal motion that translates as 'I surrender and calmly acquiesce'. "Okay," he says. "Okay. Don't do anything hasty." He slowly moves himself into a position where his substantial size conceals Shondra from view and, therefore, from the mugger's gunfire. "I'm going to reach into my rear pocket to get my wallet, okay? I'm not armed. I've got a watch, too, see?" He twists his wrist so that the gold band reflects the sunlight. The watch had been a gift from Lucius, after Bolton Securities had revamped Foxteca's security systems. He would hate to part with it, but it's not like Lucius wouldn't gladly get him a new one; his business was booming.

Then again, maybe he wouldn't have to. When the mugger looks up at Lyle's wrist, his eyes attracted by the twinkling gold, the vigilantism kicks in as though by instinct, and an undisguised Lock-Up darts forward with one fist cocked back. It rockets out in a vicious right cross on a collision course with the mugger's nose. Should it successfully connect with his face, the mugger will be looking forward to some exorbitantly expensive rhinoplastic surgical correction in the near future.

Actions:

Spoiler

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• Move Action 1: to a defensive position, between Shondra and the mugger.
• Speak Action: diplomacy check - [roll0]
• Move Action 2: a sudden rush towards the mugger.
• Standard Action: attacking the mugger - [roll1]; DC25.
• Misc: just in case - [roll2]

His vision goes red as he takes down the punk who tried to rob him. Who pointed a gun at Shondra-his Shondra. He'd pay. He'd pay. He'd...

"Lyle!"

His vision clears, and his memory prods him.

A single punch that had knocked the would-be mugger down.

Then another.

Then another. And another and another...

Shondra delicately lays a hand on his shoulder. She's scared. More than when she had a gun pointed at her.

"Can we just go back?"

Katherine Walker

"Christ, Allen." Katherine says, looking at the door to Stephanie's house. She wondered if the kid was listening. "I don't know. I'll take on the kid if that is what it means to give her a half-decent life, but I don't even know if I'm allowed to do that."

Katherine looks at Allen's cigarette and almost thinks to ask for one, but she's gone her life without and one moment of stress is not reason enough to start. Even if it was this moment. She really, really wished she had another drink. One with alcohol in it.

She doesn't bother asking him about the scene inside the house. They've both seen it, and it would only be a delaying tatic. "I might even go and talk to bastard Dent if that's what I have to do, but... what can I do, Crispus? This is too big just for one woman like me." She looks at her friend. "What on earth should I do?"

He takes another drag of his cigarette, and exhales a small cloud of smoke.

"Way I see it, you've got three options."

He lists them off on his left hand; his right is occupied by the single slender white tube.

"You could not do anything. Let the kid go into the system like everyone else. You might not like the idea, but that is an option, if the other two don't work."

In between options, another drag.

"You could try to get one of the MCU to adopt her. Except, you know, she doesn't really know any of us, and I don't know if any of us would want to take care of a kid. But you can always ask around and see who's willing."

"Or..."

The pause this time is longer. More hesitant.

"You can take care of her. Adopt her. You'll probably have to pull strings, talk to Dent, what have you, but if you really want to, you can probably get it done. That being said...the key here is 'if you want to.' You'll be living with someone else, and more than that, you'll be responsible for her. You'll have to take care of her, and make sure she has a good home and a decent enough childhood. I know a lot of good cops back in Metropolis who just can't handle having kids. It's a lot of responsibility, Walker, and sometimes, you'll have to choose between a lead on a suspect and your kid's baseball game."

That last comment sounds far too personal for it to just be general advice.

"The main question I see, is this. Are you willing to be responsible for her?"

Floyd Lawton/Deadshot
Defense: 22
Condition: Curious, but as yet unharmed.

Floyd actually stopped and stared for a second. For the first time he wondered about the particulars of the situation. "Are all you guys here for little old me?" he asked. He started whispering numbers under his breath and pointing as he counted them out. Twenty-one, including Michelangelo from the first set...

"Someone sent-" he pulled out his pistol and shot the nunchaku-wielding ninja in the head, painting the wall red. That's what he got for impersonating a ninja turtle. "-twenty of you just to gank me? I gotta say, I'm a little impressed. You little pajama monkeys want to tell me who it is, so after I'm done I can go shoot him in the face, too?" he grinned.

There really was something wrong with Floyd.

Spoiler

Show

Assuming still minion rules, so taking 10 on Heavy Pistol (Damage 4 + Power Attack 1 = Damage 5) shot, giving me a 20 to hit on Michelangelo.

The last of the original non-Testudine ninjas goes down.

The rest of them make no sound, but simply charge him.

In the distance, Deadshot can hear sirens. And if he gets caught fighting ninjas, he'll be at the station all night. And thus, unable to meet Ra's and collect his thousands.

Luigi shrugs, and simply opens the package and looks to it's contents.

Luigi opens the box.

It's an engagement ring.

Two semi-burly gentlemen in red usher's garb appear on either side of Luigi.

"Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the theater."

[Terron]

"Of course gentlemen. I have mistaken this person with a criminal, wrongly. I owe you an apology sir." With a short bow, Luigi follows the burly security guards outside, after returning the ring.

As he walks, Luigi's consiousness and his own mind struggle in deadly battle.
"Am I a bloody paranoid..."
"This is Gotham for god's sake! That could have been a bomb, or some illegal stuff."
"It COULD. But it wasn't, and I spoiled my night, along as that poor guys."
"Well he deserves it for being such a jerk, and acting like he's hiding a biological weapon when it was a goddamn ring."
"I agree on that, but you could have opened it before making all that rucus."
"But I wasn't sure. I suspected it was not dangerous after he screamed out loud. If it were a bomb he wouldn't have screamed."
"In any case I'm in trouble now. He did took a picture, and I have a criminal history."
"I know. I hope these two goons don't try anything, I don't want 'beat the sh*t out of two guards' added to my profile."
"Walker will laugh about this if she finds out."
"She will, and I gues she won't be laughing. She almost never does."

The mind activity keeps up for a while...

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

"Thanks, Allen." Katherine says, smiling something that was a little strained, but still honest. "I..." She goes quiet and thinks, looking down at her feet.

Allen waits patiently. He's good at that. All cops, or cops worth their salt, eventually gain the proper skill of listening. The skill of gaining confessions is mostly based around lending a sympathetic ear and arm while the confesser is waiting for the bad cop: most of those who commit crimes tend to be in such a state afterwards, whether through anger or guilt or remorse, that they have to tell someone something.

'Course, people in that state couldn't always think straight, or would be pressured into signing away their freedom anyway. Katherine could remember twice with Kima and Jimmy when she'd nabbed someone only for evidence to come out later and outright prove them innocent. She got a lot more careful after that.

But listening was an important skill, and Allen did it well. He stood there and absorbed the silence, so it didn't get in the way of your thinking or speaking. he just stood there and it worked.

"I gotta do it." She says. "I don't know if anyone else will take care of the kid, and I do know at least what she's gone through. I don't want to leave it to anyone else to muck it up."

"But when I muck it up, because that's what people do, I'd like you to tell me. Because you've always been the first to tell me when I've been an ass or stupid or cruel or something like that." She smirks at her fellow cop. "Because, let's fact it, Allen, I've heard you talk about your family, and we all need a little help with stuff like that. Maybe me more than most."

"But this isn't about me." She jerks her head at the door. "I gotta talk to Stephanie about thi. If she's... okay with it. We got anything else we need to do with the scene?"

She hates how goddamn uncomfortable that word feels in her mouth.

[ChronicLunacy]

Floyd/Deadshot
Defense: 22
Condition: Running like hell.

Well, twenty was rather much.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Floyd jumped off the pool table and hit the bar sliding. Shuriken and thrown knives thunked into the wood behind him, creating an almost machine gun sound effect as the ninjas unleashed every ranged weapon they had. The projectiles followed him all the way through the kitchen door at the end of the bar, where Floyd roughly pulled a stove off of the wall and then kicked the gas line to break it open. As the ninjas followed him through the swinging kitchen door, Floyd started firing at them and backing up toward the back door, taking out one man with each round but barely making a dent in the overall tide. It wasn't until he kicked open the back door and flipped open that silver lighter again did his "master plan" come to fruition. Smirking, he tossed the lighter in a perfect arc to catch the billowing, invisible gas coming out of the broken stove line.

Then he started sprinting toward the open end of the alley, hoping he'd have enough time to get clear. Discretion was overrated anyway.

Spoiler

Show

I know you want to wrap this up, so if I have to I'll spent a hero point (or even two) on surge(s) for extra actions to accomplish all of this in one round. On the other hand, let me know if I'm completely off the mark here and I'll delete/rework this post.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The Question

Kate gets into her car, and begins to turn the engine over. It's then she remembers Bruce's words to her.

"Don't open it until after you leave. Or it won't work."

The car idles as she opens her purse. WGNR begins chattering out the news to her, but she turns it down - she's not in the mood to listening to demagoguery today. She opens her purse, pulls out the paper, and sees what Bruce has written.

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

His right cross crushes the mugger's nose, obliterating it beneath his knuckles in a burst of warm, bright blood. The cross is followed by two quick lefts that drive into the mugger's unprotected abdomen and the first knocks the wind out of him while the second causes him to seize and drop to the ground as his legs go limb underneath him. Lyle follows him down and continues the beating, with many of the blows directed to the man's face. The mugger's breath comes out in wheezy, hitching gasps that have to bubble through the blood in his throat, and still Lyle doesn't stop, won't stop, can't stop until this man is made unable to ever threaten Shondra again. "Not her," he snarls with every punch. "Not her, not her, not her, not - !" When Shondra says his name, he stops and sees the damage that he's doing. The mugger is beaten, broken, and so badly bruised about the face that he barely resembles himself. When he sees her face, and how scared she is, he's mortified. When she asks if they can go back, he only nods. He stands up and turns away from the mugger. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, let's go."

[industrious]

Floyd's Wild Night

Floyd/Deadshot
Defense: 22
Condition: Running like hell.

Well, twenty was rather much.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, Floyd jumped off the pool table and hit the bar sliding. Shuriken and thrown knives thunked into the wood behind him, creating an almost machine gun sound effect as the ninjas unleashed every ranged weapon they had. The projectiles followed him all the way through the kitchen door at the end of the bar, where Floyd roughly pulled a stove off of the wall and then kicked the gas line to break it open. As the ninjas followed him through the swinging kitchen door, Floyd started firing at them and backing up toward the back door, taking out one man with each round but barely making a dent in the overall tide. It wasn't until he kicked open the back door and flipped open that silver lighter again did his "master plan" come to fruition. Smirking, he tossed the lighter in a perfect arc to catch the billowing, invisible gas coming out of the broken stove line.

Then he started sprinting toward the open end of the alley, hoping he'd have enough time to get clear. Discretion was overrated anyway.

Spoiler

Show

I know you want to wrap this up, so if I have to I'll spent a hero point (or even two) on surge(s) for extra actions to accomplish all of this in one round. On the other hand, let me know if I'm completely off the mark here and I'll delete/rework this post.

The back of the bar is on fire, and it is Deadshot's fault. The ninjas are incinerated in the inferno of methane and hot smoke. The fire alarm is now blaring, and automatic sprinkler systems have fully engaged, drenching the interior of the building in disgusting, stale water.

Floyd escapes into the night, and adds yet another entry to a mental list of places he can no longer show his face in.

Inside the bar, the door to the women's restroom swings open; it's the mystery woman. Her outfit getting more soaked by the second; she stares at the scene before her. Broken glass scattered along the floor from skylights and bottles. Overturned tables and booths with half-empty drinks now beginning to overflow with water. The dead bodies.

"Damn it, Zinda," she mutters to herself, shaking her head. "You scared another one off."

She saunters her way to the bar; the man behind the counter is quivering in the corner. She takes the customer service bell, rings it.

"Hey, bar wench! Two Old-Fashioneds now, and if you make them wrong, I'm not giving you a tip!"

Learning Curve

"Of course gentlemen. I have mistaken this person with a criminal, wrongly. I owe you an apology sir." With a short bow, Luigi follows the burly security guards outside, after returning the ring.

As he walks, Luigi's consiousness and his own mind struggle in deadly battle.
"Am I a bloody paranoid..."
"This is Gotham for god's sake! That could have been a bomb, or some illegal stuff."
"It COULD. But it wasn't, and I spoiled my night, along as that poor guys."
"Well he deserves it for being such a jerk, and acting like he's hiding a biological weapon when it was a goddamn ring."
"I agree on that, but you could have opened it before making all that rucus."
"But I wasn't sure. I suspected it was not dangerous after he screamed out loud. If it were a bomb he wouldn't have screamed."
"In any case I'm in trouble now. He did took a picture, and I have a criminal history."
"I know. I hope these two goons don't try anything, I don't want 'beat the sh*t out of two guards' added to my profile."
"Walker will laugh about this if she finds out."
"She will, and I gues she won't be laughing. She almost never does."

The mind activity keeps up for a while...

There's definitely some egg on his face. But as he takes a cab back to his apartment, he reflects on his actions. What he did. What he has done.

He is a creature of impulse. Too often he leaps to his conclusion before the facts are gathered; his heart moves faster than his head.

It's a learning curve. He'd just have to keep at it.

The Saddest Are These

The Question

Kate gets into her car, and begins to turn the engine over. It's then she remembers Bruce's words to her.

"Don't open it until after you leave. Or it won't work."

The car idles as she opens her purse. WGNR begins chattering out the news to her, but she turns it down - she's not in the mood to listening to demagoguery today. She opens her purse, pulls out the paper, and sees what Bruce has written.

Kate opens the folded paper, looks at it.

A second later, it flutters to the seat of the car.

There are no words on it.

Just a symbol.

Two Souls in One Body

Lock-Up

His right cross crushes the mugger's nose, obliterating it beneath his knuckles in a burst of warm, bright blood. The cross is followed by two quick lefts that drive into the mugger's unprotected abdomen and the first knocks the wind out of him while the second causes him to seize and drop to the ground as his legs go limb underneath him. Lyle follows him down and continues the beating, with many of the blows directed to the man's face. The mugger's breath comes out in wheezy, hitching gasps that have to bubble through the blood in his throat, and still Lyle doesn't stop, won't stop, can't stop until this man is made unable to ever threaten Shondra again. "Not her," he snarls with every punch. "Not her, not her, not her, not - !" When Shondra says his name, he stops and sees the damage that he's doing. The mugger is beaten, broken, and so badly bruised about the face that he barely resembles himself. When he sees her face, and how scared she is, he's mortified. When she asks if they can go back, he only nods. He stands up and turns away from the mugger. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, let's go."

They walk in silence, and don't acknowledge each other's existence. They awkwardly wait for a second at the Slammer, before they mumble apologies and one of them enters the security codes to enter. The empty halls echo with the sound of footsteps.

They reach the infirmary, and Shondra begins to clean and bandage Lock-Up's hand. It's not an injury really worth doing so. She does anyway.

"This..."

The word linger for a moment as she struggles to find others to compliment it.

"...is what I am afraid of. There are two sides to you, Lyle. One that wants to help people, to bring them out of the darkness. And one that just wants to join in the mad revelry of violence that is the dark. I don't...you can't walk along the borders of both sides. You'll fall. And I don't...I don't want you to."

The Greatest Responsibility

Katherine Walker

"Thanks, Allen." Katherine says, smiling something that was a little strained, but still honest. "I..." She goes quiet and thinks, looking down at her feet.

Allen waits patiently. He's good at that. All cops, or cops worth their salt, eventually gain the proper skill of listening. The skill of gaining confessions is mostly based around lending a sympathetic ear and arm while the confesser is waiting for the bad cop: most of those who commit crimes tend to be in such a state afterwards, whether through anger or guilt or remorse, that they have to tell someone something.

'Course, people in that state couldn't always think straight, or would be pressured into signing away their freedom anyway. Katherine could remember twice with Kima and Jimmy when she'd nabbed someone only for evidence to come out later and outright prove them innocent. She got a lot more careful after that.

But listening was an important skill, and Allen did it well. He stood there and absorbed the silence, so it didn't get in the way of your thinking or speaking. he just stood there and it worked.

"I gotta do it." She says. "I don't know if anyone else will take care of the kid, and I do know at least what she's gone through. I don't want to leave it to anyone else to muck it up."

"But when I muck it up, because that's what people do, I'd like you to tell me. Because you've always been the first to tell me when I've been an ass or stupid or cruel or something like that." She smirks at her fellow cop. "Because, let's fact it, Allen, I've heard you talk about your family, and we all need a little help with stuff like that. Maybe me more than most."

"But this isn't about me." She jerks her head at the door. "I gotta talk to Stephanie about thi. If she's... okay with it. We got anything else we need to do with the scene?"

She hates how goddamn uncomfortable that word feels in her mouth.

Allen shakes his head.

"I'll deal with it. You've got something more important to deal with."

Walker talks. Stephanie listens. A pause.

Her ribs are never going to feel the same again.

finis

[industrious]

The Ball, Part Two
((If I haven't given you a description, it's because I'm letting you describe what's happening just before the Ball))

Floyd Lawton

By 7am sharp, he heads over to Wayne Enterprises, ready to prepare for his task. Meeting with Al-Ghul's head of security, Lawton quickly realizes that the schedule and information he's been given doesn't quite add up. When he asks the man about it, however, he's received little, if any additional information.

It's now close to the time when they are set to leave for the ball, and Ra's finally arrives, motioning Floyd to enter the elevator with him. Annoying music is thankfully absent.

"Apologies for the delay and misinformation, Mr. Lawton. But as you may have surmised, you will not be guarding my own person tonight, but rather someone far more valuable."

The doors open to the parking garage, and a stunningly beautiful woman, no older than 28 is waiting for them in an elegant, backless, emerald green evening gown that matches her eyes. She's tall, and lithe, with long legs and an hourglass figure, hair the color of chestnuts, and lips currently twisted slightly upwards at their arrival.

"My daughter, Talia."

Katherine Walker

Fun fact: Moving boxes of stuff across the city? Not so fun.

Another fun fact: Seeing the person whose stuff is in the boxes that are being moved smile? Very fun.

"...And that's the last of it!"

It would take some time to unpack them all, to set up the guest room adequately and the like. But right now...Walker had a ball to get ready for.

Thankfully, at least, Josie was planning an all night movie/TV marathon, and was happy to have Stephanie watch the entirety of the Police Squad! franchise.

[ChronicLunacy]

Floyd Lawton

Spoiler

Show

Arsenal Loadout for Tonight
Commlink [1ep]
Playing Cards (+0) [1ep]
Muscle Car (Police Cruiser Stats) [7ep]
Kevlar Jacket (+4 Armor, Subtle) [5ep]
Extendable Baton (+2 Damage, Subtle) [4ep]
Heavy Pistol w/AP rounds (+6 Damage) [10ep]
Throwing Knives (+2, 19-20) [4ep]
Shuriken (+1 Autofire) [3ep]

Well, then...

Floyd's eyes dropped to those high heeled shoes and dragged every inch of the way up those long legs and perfect figure. He told himself he was looking for any weapons she might be hiding in that form-fitting, backless dress but he could only feed himself so much bull**** before it became intolerable... Who knew Ra's Al Ghul could create himself such a gorgeous vision of a daughter? Maybe all his billions of dollars were good for something after all.

"Not that it won't be a pleasure, Ms. Al Ghul," he smiled then turned to her father, "but you should have told me from the start, sir." He raised an eyebrow. He'd known that something was off about the whole extensive preparation process he'd gone through, but this confirmed it. "You aren't exactly making it easier for me to protect anyone by keeping secrets. Is there some reason for all of the cloak and dagger, maybe someone who doesn't need to know your daughter's whereabouts?" he asked. He figured he'd at least give Mr. Mysterious a chance to explain.

Spoiler

Show

Notice for Hidden Weapons: 1d20+16=22

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

"Well, finally. It's about time."

Katherine was not worried. Worry was for the weak, and Katherine was not weak nor scared at leaving Steph alone after all she'd been through. Not all all.

Okay, maybe she was a little worried. But not much. And what was the worst that could happen?

Lots of things. Lots and lots of things.

Katherine gives her teenage ward the Stephanie Glare, the one that is meant to tell the girl that Walker is about to tell her something important so listen, goddamnit. "Okay, kid. The standard list of rules applies when you're kipping with Josephine while I'm away." The List was the extensive bunch of rules that Katherine had given Stephanie the first time she had stayed over at her house, although time and practicality had worn it down to about half of its original size. "And don't do anything stupid, and if I find out that the Spoiler has been around there will be repercussions." She stands there awkwardly for a moment, and then adds "And enjoy the show, kid. Trust me, though, it ain't nothing like what we actually do." She risks a smile. Well, tries, anyway.

It's the clothes that are the problem. She's wearing her dress uniform, because that's the closest thing to her beat clothes that she can get, but it still feels odd and stiff and not like a proper Police's clothes. Oh, well. Time to get it over with. "Wish me luck, kid." She says, like she's off to get shot. "And if I punch anyone know that they probably deserved it."

[Terron]

It wasn't like Luigi was going to miss what was left of the opera, the second act is, usually, the best of it. But given that there was no way he could get in that building again, his inly option was to search for it on internet, and hear it through his crappy speakers, as he sipped wine and reflected on what happened a little more.
"Too much time on your own, amici..." the phrase came to his mind often. He had hear it pounding in his head all those 5 years in jail. Now it was just a shy whisper in some forgotten corner of his mind. In jail, just like Grayson. And what about Grayson? He was still on the run, no matter how hard Luigi searched for him. Police seemed to be on the same page, clueless.
Of course Grayson had been long gone from the news, more gruesome and bloody news taking it's place. The morbid nature of Gotham people still amazed Luigi, and he killed people for a living. He smirks in the darkness of his own room, as the opera was touching it's end. A white globed silent finger waved in the air, following the compass and times of the orchestra.
The Ball was to began in half an hour, plenty of time for him to walk there; he was already in his suit.
And it finished, with the fat lady singing at the end, of course. He left his wine glass on the small table next to his chair, stretched with a lazy grunt, and headed off, to The Ball. If he was moderately lucky, no one would try to hide a suspicious bomb-like engagement ring anywhere.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The Question

So much to do, so little time. Or, as an author that had been in her mind had once said, "The hurrier I go, the behinder I get."

She'd spent the last twelve hours or so helping the Colonel put out fires as they arose - the florist had delivered the table displays to the wrong address, the cake sculptor had trouble finding the estate, and someone double booked musicians, to name a few of the problems. Two things that never ran smoothly: true love and philanthropy.

Now it was an hour before the guests were to arrive, and Kate descended the stairs into Kane Manor's spacious foyer. She knew her choice of attire would turn heads, more than the red dress she had worn to Dent's inauguration five years ago. After all, the Ball was a black tie event. Why shouldn't she wear one? Inwardly, she relished the stir it would send through the blue bloods.

Bette, for her part, dressed to accentuate her feminity. Strapless red dress, probably held up with double-sided tape. She had spent over two hours at the hairdresser's getting her curly hair made even curlier, and her blond locks spilled down to her shoulders in waves.

Outwardly, Kate was calm. Inwardly, she was still thinking about that picture Bruce had drawn - a bat, exactly like the one that the Batman wore in that other world. How could he have known that? She never told him explicitly about that world - did he somehow dream it? If so, did that mean it still existed somewhere, even after its destruction? Was there an afterlife for people that get written out of existence? What the hell did all of this mean?

So many questions. So few answers. When wasn't this true?

[industrious]

Floyd Lawton

Spoiler

Show

Arsenal Loadout for Tonight
Commlink [1ep]
Playing Cards (+0) [1ep]
Muscle Car (Police Cruiser Stats) [7ep]
Kevlar Jacket (+4 Armor, Subtle) [5ep]
Extendable Baton (+2 Damage, Subtle) [4ep]
Heavy Pistol w/AP rounds (+6 Damage) [10ep]
Throwing Knives (+2, 19-20) [4ep]
Shuriken (+1 Autofire) [3ep]

Well, then...

Floyd's eyes dropped to those high heeled shoes and dragged every inch of the way up those long legs and perfect figure. He told himself he was looking for any weapons she might be hiding in that form-fitting, backless dress but he could only feed himself so much bull**** before it became intolerable... Who knew Ra's Al Ghul could create himself such a gorgeous vision of a daughter? Maybe all his billions of dollars were good for something after all.

"Not that it won't be a pleasure, Ms. Al Ghul," he smiled then turned to her father, "but you should have told me from the start, sir." He raised an eyebrow. He'd known that something was off about the whole extensive preparation process he'd gone through, but this confirmed it. "You aren't exactly making it easier for me to protect anyone by keeping secrets. Is there some reason for all of the cloak and dagger, maybe someone who doesn't need to know your daughter's whereabouts?" he asked. He figured he'd at least give Mr. Mysterious a chance to explain.

Spoiler

Show

Notice for Hidden Weapons: 1d20+16=22

Ra's Al-Ghul (and Talia too)

She inclines her head a fraction of an inch towards him in acknowledgement of his presence.

Wow, she was gorgeous. Probably more attractive than his blonde mystery woman, though it was far too close to tell. They'd need to be right next to each other (naked, of course), and probably kissing for him to make any judgments...

Weapons. Right. There were some. At least, there was a slight bulge around the woman's ankle, and while that clutch she was holding wasn't revealing anything, if that ankle bulge was something, that little bag had a secret or two as well.

"...no children, Mr. Lawton, then it's rater difficult for me to explain. Suffice it to say that she is perhaps the most dear of all of my possessions."

Oh, and Ra's was giving an explanation as well.

"We cannot arrive tardy. It is time to go."

The Question

So much to do, so little time. Or, as an author that had been in her mind had once said, "The hurrier I go, the behinder I get."

She'd spent the last twelve hours or so helping the Colonel put out fires as they arose - the florist had delivered the table displays to the wrong address, the cake sculptor had trouble finding the estate, and someone double booked musicians, to name a few of the problems. Two things that never ran smoothly: true love and philanthropy.

Now it was an hour before the guests were to arrive, and Kate descended the stairs into Kane Manor's spacious foyer. She knew her choice of attire would turn heads, more than the red dress she had worn to Dent's inauguration five years ago. After all, the Ball was a black tie event. Why shouldn't she wear one? Inwardly, she relished the stir it would send through the blue bloods.

Bette, for her part, dressed to accentuate her feminity. Strapless red dress, probably held up with double-sided tape. She had spent over two hours at the hairdresser's getting her curly hair made even curlier, and her blond locks spilled down to her shoulders in waves.

Outwardly, Kate was calm. Inwardly, she was still thinking about that picture Bruce had drawn - a bat, exactly like the one that the Batman wore in that other world. How could he have known that? She never told him explicitly about that world - did he somehow dream it? If so, did that mean it still existed somewhere, even after its destruction? Was there an afterlife for people that get written out of existence? What the hell did all of this mean?

So many questions. So few answers. When wasn't this true?

The Colonel is in civilian garb tonight; a tuxedo and black tie, with only his crew cut and posture a sign of his military manner. All the preparations have been finished; it's now merely a matter of time before the guests arrive.

He spots her down the stairs, waves her over. For the next hour, they sit, exchanging camaraderie, swapping stories, and waiting for the hammer to fall, and the Ball to begin.

It wasn't like Luigi was going to miss what was left of the opera, the second act is, usually, the best of it. But given that there was no way he could get in that building again, his inly option was to search for it on internet, and hear it through his crappy speakers, as he sipped wine and reflected on what happened a little more.
"Too much time on your own, amici..." the phrase came to his mind often. He had hear it pounding in his head all those 5 years in jail. Now it was just a shy whisper in some forgotten corner of his mind. In jail, just like Grayson. And what about Grayson? He was still on the run, no matter how hard Luigi searched for him. Police seemed to be on the same page, clueless.
Of course Grayson had been long gone from the news, more gruesome and bloody news taking it's place. The morbid nature of Gotham people still amazed Luigi, and he killed people for a living. He smirks in the darkness of his own room, as the opera was touching it's end. A white globed silent finger waved in the air, following the compass and times of the orchestra.
The Ball was to began in half an hour, plenty of time for him to walk there; he was already in his suit.
And it finished, with the fat lady singing at the end, of course. He left his wine glass on the small table next to his chair, stretched with a lazy grunt, and headed off, to The Ball. If he was moderately lucky, no one would try to hide a suspicious bomb-like engagement ring anywhere.

Luigi flags down a cab and instructs the man behind the wheel to the address; Kane Manor was on the outer limits of Gotham, and couldn't simply be walked to.

Hopefully, nothing terribly wrong would happen tonight.

Katherine Walker

"Well, finally. It's about time."

Katherine was not worried. Worry was for the weak, and Katherine was not weak nor scared at leaving Steph alone after all she'd been through. Not all all.

Okay, maybe she was a little worried. But not much. And what was the worst that could happen?

Lots of things. Lots and lots of things.

Katherine gives her teenage ward the Stephanie Glare, the one that is meant to tell the girl that Walker is about to tell her something important so listen, goddamnit. "Okay, kid. The standard list of rules applies when you're kipping with Josephine while I'm away." The List was the extensive bunch of rules that Katherine had given Stephanie the first time she had stayed over at her house, although time and practicality had worn it down to about half of its original size. "And don't do anything stupid, and if I find out that the Spoiler has been around there will be repercussions." She stands there awkwardly for a moment, and then adds "And enjoy the show, kid. Trust me, though, it ain't nothing like what we actually do." She risks a smile. Well, tries, anyway.

It's the clothes that are the problem. She's wearing her dress uniform, because that's the closest thing to her beat clothes that she can get, but it still feels odd and stiff and not like a proper Police's clothes. Oh, well. Time to get it over with. "Wish me luck, kid." She says, like she's off to get shot. "And if I punch anyone know that they probably deserved it."

"Good luck!"

The kid hugs her again, rumpling her dress uniform (she'd worry about it later), and Josi waves good-bye, talking animatedly to Setphanie about the wonders of Leslie Nielsen.

The GCPD had paid for a private driver-he was waiting outside. Time to get this show on the road.

Lock-Up

Things were still awkward between the two of them. But both were people of their word, and when he showed up in a tuxedo and bearing flowers, she blushed and accepted them in a navy blue dress.

Obviously, Lock-Up didn't drive the Paddy Wagon to the Ball. But a black, vaguely governmental-looking SUV wasn't much better.

[DeafnotDumb]

Katherine Walker

This was all going to go to hell.

Katherine gets in the car, giving a wave to Stephanie with one hand while fixing her uniform with the other, and then instructs the driver to go straight to the location.

And then she focuses very hard on not, repeat, not punching anybody, especially the very irritating people, because Gordon would be back soon and she'd never hear the last of it.

[industrious]

Everyone

Kane Manor is seated on top of one of the many hills just outside of the city limits. It is enormous, with rooms larger than most apartments. It is breathtaking, and grand, and filled to the brim with wealthy, powerful, important people.

In at least one case, it's home.

Everyone gets out of their individual cars, dressed to the nines, and heads inside. Inside the foyer, a pale woman dressed in a tuxedo, and an older man with a shaven head dressed likewise are greeting guests.

Walker

The older man shakes her hand firmly, and there's steel in his grip and eyes. Obviously military. Obviously Colonel Kane, the individual hosting the event. (Gordon had left was a briefing packet with the important names and faces.)

"Lieutenant Walker. It's an honor for you to be there."

Floyd

The Colonel's eyes flick to his concealed weapons, but says nothing. He shakes Ra's hand first, exchanging a few words with the old man, then Talia's, and finally, his.

[DeafnotDumb]

Lieutenant Walker

Great.

Katherine shakes the hand of the old man and smiles and says a platitude she doesn't remember - something false about good to be here too - and moves on and picks a corner of the party where she can stand there thinking and looking at the partygoers and wondering what kinds of criminals they were*.

There were Dent's boys and girls, politicians and vauge celebrities she remembered seeing on a newspaper or a television screen, representives, other people whose apparent purpose in life was to stand around and be rich somewhere and the general layabouts who'd come to this thing and seemed to have no purpose being here. There was one tall man who looked more like a penguin that Cobblepot ever had in his tuxedo and bowtie, one absolute brick and his apparent partner and (her eyebrows raised at this) Ra's Al Ghul and a young woman with what appeared to be her escort or bodyguard. Probably the latter. Katherine decided to hate them all, and hate their rich useless faces as they said nothing of meaning and stuffed their holes with petty foods and weak drink and spoke hot air as if it where gold they spewed out, and most of all she hated the Colonel who stood there and shook their hands like it was the most ordinary, honest thing in the world and his daughter who stood beside him in a show-off tuxedo with fineries and fripperies and looking....

....it was a very nice tux...

Focus, Walker. And stop staring.

The policewoman grabbed and drink and used it to brace herself for some socalizing. She'd much rather face The Smiler unarmed than do this. At least that was simple.

This was all going to go to hell.

*The thought that there were no criminals at the party was a stupid and useless one and dismissed out of hand. Nobody who had that much money could not be a criminal.

[Terron]

Luigi arrived to the impresive manor and stood outside a few seconds. He had seen big ostentatious places before; but not this big or ostentatious. Shaking off the memories of the past that haunted him ever so often, Luigi walked with the tight step of a gentleman, up to the door; where he was invited to pass.
In that moment a thought crossed his mind: Would these people know who he was, as, ex-mafia hitman? Perhaps. Actually, most certainly so, it was remotely unlikely that these people would let in a person without knowing everything to be known of it. But then, why was he standing at the doorstep then? Perhaps they were so snob as to bath in self adulation, claiming that they even welcome reformed assassins in their house? In that case, he was safe. Nobility rarely says anything directly, perhaps Luigi would get a stare, or an indirect comment, if someone actually talked to him.
With this in mind he walked in and saluted the colonel and his daughter, using all his finery of modals and words, "Buona notte, I'm honoured to be here, in presence of such fine host and hostess. "

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The Question

Kate spends the early part of the evening next to the Colonel, a slight smile curling on her red lips. Most of the people were the socialites she had learned to endure, many of whom were only attended the Ball because it was good PR, rather than out of any sense of philanthropy. Still, she suffered through it - the GCPD was in over its head in this brave new world where men could fly and women could wield lassos of truth.

Then Walker enters, in full dress uniform, and Kate allows a genuine smile to play about her face. Walker was her normal irascible self this evening, and possibly worse - the tight collar on her uniform seemed to bother her than the more casual street clothes she would wear when heading the MCU. She caught Walker staring at her before awkwardly glancing away, so she decided to smooth over Walker's rough edges. "Ah, Lieutenant Walker, glad to see you this evening. I've read some stories on the MCU - it sounds as though your team is putting some very bad people away. I appreciate the hard work the honest men and women of the GCPD do every day."

Then the CEO of Wayne Enterprises' entourage entered, and Kate was immediately entranced by the beauty in the brilliant green evening gown. She composed herself as Ra's introduced himself and his daughter to the Colonel, and she offered to shake the man's hand. "Ra's, a pleasure to see you here. Let me see if I recall, my Arabic is a bit rusty." She cleared her throat before speaking again. "مساء الخير، وآمل أن تستمتع إقامتك." She nodded to the burly bodyguard the man had brought, and noted the armaments he was carrying. "I appreciate your concern for security, but please, try to be discrete. And enjoy yourselves!" She spared a moment as the trio left to watch Talia leave. Only the Colonel's elbow brought her back to the task at hand.

Then Luigi entered. Only one word came to Kate's mind: brazen. It took massive cojones for a man with his history to come to a Policeman's Ball. The smile drained away from her face, but she tried to put on a calm and quiet tone. "Buona sera, signore," she said in perfect Italian. "Godetevi la vostra serata al Kane dimora."

Spoiler

Show

Notice for Floyd's Weapons: (1d20+13)[32]
Bluff to hide her anger towards Luigi: (1d20+11)[21]
Arabic Translation: "Good evening, I hope you enjoy your stay."
Italian Translation: "Good evening, sir. Enjoy your stay at Kane manor."
(Translations done through Google Translate. If there's any weirdness, blame them, not me!)

[DeafnotDumb]

Lieutenant Walker

Katherine nods at the Kane girl's words, just desperately hoping that she hadn't been caught staring. That could be embarassing, and give the wrong impression if it was caught out. That would be...

Oh, great, she was panicing. A woman who could travel across universes and face down Killer Crock eye-to-eye was panicing. At a ball. She would never live this down. Where was someone to punch when you needed them?

As if on cue, Luigi entered the room at this moment, but any impulses of Katherine's were restrained by the need to reply to Kane. "Thanks." She says shortly, and then realizes that she's probably required to add more. "I'll pass that on to the team. Good police like them don't get thanked enough for what they do." Was that politic enough? She hoped it was politic enough.

Then Kane moves on to some other guests, and Katherine is too glad at the relief to be bitter towards the girl. And the next guest is someone she knows, or knows well enough not to be afraid of seeing her words thrown at her in tomorrow's paper. "Ra." She says, grasping his name like a lifebelt. She doesn't risk saying the full name and therefore misspeaking it. She nods towards the girl at his side, taking the moment to check out the man beside her as well. For weapons, let her be clear. "See you've got someone with you today. Is she-" Arm candy, why on earth were you going to say arm candy? "-someone that I should know?"

[Terron]

The italian smiled, "Flawless, not very common; anglosaxons have a hard time conquering the pronunciation of romanic languages. Very impressive my lady." With a courtesy bow, Luigi entered the main hall, not noticing the anger repressed by Miss Kane. A few steps in, he placed himself next to a corner, not so for be able to spot anyone in particular, but rather to avoid being on transit areas. Then he noticed Walker. Just a glare, when she was talking to Ra's. Ra's, a straight up bodyguard, and a green jewel. Luigi's mind could only begin to imagine what was that woman capable of, if her father was able to twist dimensions and time. For the time being, Luigi remained silent, and now with a drink in his hand, he beheaved as formal, social and snob, as only an Italian can be.

[industrious]

Kate Kane

"...Didn't know you were so into Middle Eastern girls, Kate."

If there was one bad thing Kate could say about Selina Kyle, it would be that she was straight. Charmingly witty, very down to earth, and well...gorgeous. She always dressed in a strange hybrid of sensual elegance, and somehow made it work. Tonight was no exception; a classic black dress flowing down nearly to her feet, a string of pearls around her neck, and her short hair done up, with a single lock of it curling on her forehead similar to a certain hero from Metropolis.

"Love the tux. Colonel, mind if I borrow your daughter for a bit?"

The Kane patriarch nods, and Kate finds herself sprinted away with nary an ability to protest or speak. Selina was like that, sometimes. Running a series of women's shelters and community centers in the East End meant that she was occasionally a bit more forceful in normal company than she needed to; when she wasn't mingling with the upper crust, it was those who had fallen through the cracks or were seeking to destroy them she was interacting with.

"Sorry about that, darling. You were looking positively bored out of your mind greeting all those people. How are things?"

Ra's Al-Ghul

The elderly man smiles at Kate, extending a hand slightly trembling with age to her.

"Detective! I was unaware you would be here this evening. And yes-this is my daughter. Talia. Talia, Lieutenant Katherine Walker."

The woman in the green dress extends her hand as well.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant."

Luigi

"...So, I said, Los Vegas? Dearest, you might as well go to the wilderness if we're to stay in that dreadful city."

The upper crust. Gotham's elite. A group so privileged that another man's luxuries were theirs to be looked down upon.

"Don't you agree, old chap?"

It's a second before Luigi realizes that he's the object of the speaker's sentence.

[Terron]

Never too slow to react, Luigi slightly raised his bubbling drink, and flashed a smile. "Most certainly, Las Vegas has little to offer, but vice and depravedness. In the wilderness you will at least be able to sit down for a while, without someone wanting to sell you something." there was certainly an emphasis on "Las". Luigi smiled again, and looked up to who he was speaking with. A small joke, depreciative, classicist and condescended, the kind of jokes these people love.

Spoiler

Show

Does Well informed or connected give me any information about these blue bloods?

[DeafnotDumb]

Lieutenant Walker

Katherine takes the hand of both the old man and his daughter, and manages not to stare at the latter. She hadn't known the old man had a child, or indeed that he'd had a wife or any human companionship to his name apart from his employees and those companies of his. It was mildly surprising to find someone made that little bit human.

"The commissioner had some urgent business to deal with, so I'm here in his stead." The words might have been as politic as they could get, but there was no mistaking the grumpiness of Walker's tone. She was trying, at least, but there was only so much you could do to hide the roughness. "Pleased to meetcha - meet you, Talia A-al-" Walker's brow furrows as she stumbles over that surname and reminds herself of why she always found a way to avoid saying it during the press conferences. "Al Gul. Ghul." She mumbles something that sounds like a curse towards Gordon, and then stretches a smirk. "Sometimes I think the only reason I've not investigated your father is because I'd have to learn how to prounonce the bloody name."

Okay, joke fired off. Good joke? bad joke? Crap, she hoped it hadn't offended anyone. Quick to find a distraction, she gestures over to Floyd. "What about this guy? He got no name or just furniture?" She holds out her hand for him to shake, interested to see how he'd react.

[Bruendor_Cavescout]

The Question

Kate smirked as Selina called her out on admiring the scenery, but said nothing in front of the Colonel. She freely went with Selina, once again inwardly mourning the fact that this stunningly beautiful creature was straighter than an arrow. "Things are busy, as always. With all the things that demand my attention, it's amazing I get any time for myself. Still, I get to escape into the night every once in awhile. Keeps me from turning into them." She looked past Selina's shoulder at the trust fund babies, trophy wives and old money that mingled with Gotham's political power. Laughing at their own jokes, stinking of perfume and cologne, corpulent and decrepit.

'What about you? Are you on the hunt for support tonight?"

[Sophistemon]

Lock-Up

There was plenty that he wanted to say to Shondra after the attempted mugging, after she'd told him that he worried her. He wanted to hold up his battered hands, rough and scarred despite her healing powers, and say "Look at these, Shondra. Look at my hands. What else were they made for? I was built for this. Or for something worse." But he doesn't, thankfully. What good could it have done? Likely, it would have scared her off for good, if she knew how trapped he felt in the course he'd chosen. He could be such an angry man, and he was too large, to strong, too dangerous to let that anger bottle up. Without the cathartic release brought about by vigilantism... Who knows how bad it could get? He doesn't trust himself to stop. He doesn't trust himself, period. The end of their date makes him think that she'll change her mind about attending the ball, but she doesn't, which gives him hope. He's a damaged man, but if she's willing to overlook that, at least for now... That's good, right? It has to be. When they arrive at the ball, Lyle is stunned by the opulence. Although not himself a poor man, the wealth on display at Kane Manor is tremendous enough to flabbergast him. The Kanes live like American royalty in a splendorous palatial home that causes little pangs of envy to bite at his stomach. Shondra deserves to live in a home like this.