Ongoing Games (In-Character)Play-by-post games are going on in this forum as we speak (well, read). All threads on this board are actual games, so please, only post on a thread if you are a player of that game.
"Do you think Falcone is wining and dining right now? I think I might go over there, annoyed and pissed off that a cripple cop humiliated and befouled me by laying her hands on me that night at the dock." Sometime mid speech Hagen had morphed into the likeness of Joe Chill.
"Of course. Because I learned in my time at Chicago Law that men in masks are always to be trusted."
He hasn't move the pistol an inch during the whole conversation. And for good reason, Hush realizes. If the vigilante was in Dent's shoes, he wouldn't lower the weapon either.
If Katherine feels the same discomfort as Hagen's features shift, this time she limits it to a grimace.
"You find him there a lot of the time, sitting on his ass because he thinks he's done all the work that needs doing." The cop scoffs, and looks at Hagen. "You need me there? I can keep myself in the shadows nearby just in case it all goes wrong and shooting breaks out."
When Hargen speaks with Chill's voice, she blinks, remembering the same voice in her ears only a night ago. "That's... goddamn good. Where'd you learn to do that?"
Michael Walker
Michael cuts off his expanded sense and walks to the door; it was time to have a talk with the man he had heard essentially ran the crime and peddled the drugs polluting his city.
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
The Saint of the Streets is blocked even before he gets within five feet of the place. Dressed as he is, in rags, there isn't a way in the world he's going to be let in.
"Get lost, pal," one of the burly guards grunts. "This is a private party. No bums allowed. Get it?"
The restaurant is definitely in the better part of town. Just barely outside of the more modern, trendy areas, it still manages to exude an elegant, traditional charm. Brick and black banners have such a great effect. Barely a block away lie the new, avant-garde restaurants, the modern reinterpretations of old dishes: Xenon, Kane's, Fingers'. But here, starkly defiant of such ideas, is the Old New World.
The best place to hide in this part of town isn't in any dark alleys, or convenient phone booths. It's in the crowds, the potential patrons drawn to the bars and outings. The groups of young adults and married couples, of the newly affluent.
Hagen casually brushes aside a street bum as he enters the restaurant. Before he gets both feet fully in the door, however, he is politely, but firmly stopped by one of the guards.
"Mr. Chill," he says, with respect and more than an ounce of fear. "I'll need to search you for any weapons. You know the rules."
"And women in masks, Mister Dent? I hear a certain masked officer brought in Joe Chill recently.
This city... this city rewards crime and punishes justice. Some of us must keep our faces hidden to serve justice effectively. You might be brave, or perhaps idiot, enough to parade your crusade before the world, a beaming light of hope for all to see, but I am not.
I don't have the luxury of being so careless and neither, I trust you realize, do you. How long before a comepetent assassin comes through those vents? How long before one puts a bullet through your eyes or bomb on your desk? On your coworkers'? On your friends'? On your family's.
Joe levels a scornful look on the bouncer. "Don't think for a SECOND you are gonna lay a hand on me, got it? Of course I'm armed..." he says with feigned politeness, letting his concealed pistol print enough for the guard to notice. "...and only Mr. Falcone himself can tell me I can't carry it, so why don't you take me to his table and I'll make sure you keep your job, ok?"
Spoiler
Using Skill Mastery on Bluff, total of 22. Pretty much all the time I'm going to be using Skilly Mastery on Bluff and Sense Motive, to keep from giving myself away.
It's him. The man responsible for the vast majority of organized crime in Gotham. The Roman himself. Carmine Falcone.
"We are all friends here; there is no need for violence."
He has a light, friendly tone. But only because he's in his own natural element. Only because he wields near absolute power here. Defiance was met with swift execution in this place.
"Give the man your pistol, have a seat, and try the gnochi. We have much to discuss, you and I."
Office of the District Attorney
The pistol lowers by about half an inch. At its current angle, should Dent fire it, Elliot would be the last of his family. The comment about his wife had definitely affected him. Whether for good or ill was up for debate.
"Of course, Mr. Falcone, whatever you say. I just don't like it when the hired help think they run the place, ya know?" He hands the bouncer his gun, and narrows his eyes at him. "Get a scratch on it and I'll scratch your eyes," he growls at him, then follows Falcone to his table.
Falcone has a private booth in the corner. Of course. Leather seating, aged mahogany, the works.
The table is already set for two, identical plates of gnochi laid out on either end. A bottle of wine that would set Katherine back a full month's salary has already been poured.
Being expected to eat, of course, goes without saying. Falcone takes slow, careful bites, never spearing more than two gnochi on his fork at a time; his eyes briefly close before each bite.
"I expect you are already sick of the swill the police give inmates. Now then. How did you manage to get yourself caught?"
Joe sits, but doesn't make a move to eat; instead, he seems agitated, riled up, distracted, annoyed.
"I dunno," he says in response to Falcone's question. "That bitch cop in a mask snuck up on us, all ninja like. I think she got tipped off by that geezer Gordon." He doesn't mention the man in mummy wraps or the undying homeless man. Instead, he curses, slams his fist into his other hand. "That BITCH. She is so going down, believe you me.
"Which is why I came. Your man the Smiler, I hear you sicked him on her. I like it, I like it. I also hear she's going to be meeting with that dog Gordon at his place [at some time we forgot to specify, suggestions in OOC?]. If you axe me, I say you tip off Mr. Smiler, have him pay them a visit. After humiliating me like that, yeah, I want her bad."
Michael
"I have business with Falcone." The words carry the threat of violence if the man does not get out of his way.
Spoiler
Intimidate- (1d20+6)[13]
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
Something in his tone makes the guard back off. Confidence. If you walk in acting as if you belong, people will think twice about approaching you.
"Fine. No weapons allowed, bub. Hand 'em over at the entrance."
Falcone's Booth
"Interesting."
Falcone continues to savor each bite of the gnochi. His tone remains mild, light-hearted.
"It almost sounds as if you are ordering me to do something."
Here be dragons, then. Falcone was used to being obeyed. And he wasn't the lord of organized crime in Gotham because of his culinary tastes or genteel disposition.
Easy, Hagen. You're overplaying your role. This is Falcone; the scum is used to being toadied to.
"No, Mr. Falcone, of course not! I'd never presume to... I'd be crazy to... certainly not my place...," he stammers, trying to insert the appropriate amount of humility and subservience and outright fear into his voice. "I just wanted to do whatever I could to fix my mistake, I want to do right by you... just thought this info I got could be useful, is all..."
Spoiler
Instead of taking 10 using Skill Mastery on my Diplomacy attempt, I'm going to roll for the chance of getting higher; if its less than 10, I'm popping a Hero Point. Hagen wants that Oscar, baby!
Diplomacy: (1d20+12)[26]
and Hero Point reroll should Diplomacy be less than 22: (1d10+22)[31]
Michael
He hands over one of his guns, then walks forward while almost daring the crook to pat him down to see if another is hidden in his coat.
Spoiler
One last intimidate roll (1d20+6)[18]
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
He swirls the glass of wine gently, admiring the vintage's legs.
"It is very useful, Joseph. Very useful indeed. Now then. It will take far more than just the death of the Detective to eliminate the trial. While our men in Evidence have resold us the base product, we will still need to further process the compounds. Due to this product's...nature, I have hired a dedicated chemist. And as we speak, the raw materials are being taken to the refinery. And while production will be swiftly handled...I think distribution can wait. Until, say..."
He smiles, then.
"the day Dent becomes mayor."
The Entrance
They don't dare search the man for any other weapons. But Falcone is nowhere to be seen.
Michael
"Fine." He would wait for a moment; wait and be ready. Falcone might think himself safe in this building, but no one escaped God's Sight or Judgment; and that was most certainly Michael's domain.
__________________
Doliest's crimes against good taste
Spoiler
An Uwe Boll fan, and proud of it. LONG LIVE THE BOLL!
Also a Michael Bay fan.
Likes Jar Jar
Likes FATAL..... No, I'm sorry, but no. Everything else on this list? I like, but while I've done many horrible things in my life, I WILL NOT claim to like FATAL.
Joe chill raises his eyebrows, hopefully a gesture Falcone will take as impressed appreciation.
"You want for me to find some leverage on the good counselor, capo di tuttu capi? His loved ones, maybe?"
At some point during the conversation, whenever it seems appropriate, Joe will also inquire as to the reliability of this "chemist," as a subtle attempt to find out his name. He'll also ask if Falcone would like to up security around the refinery, also in an attempt to find out where it is.
((I meant the chemist, family-wise. But that works too))
Falcone's Booth
"There's no need, Joseph. I guarantee that Harvey Dent will emerge, alive, well and good health, to win this election. Totally, and completely unharmed. Gotham's own knight in shining armor."
He hasn't stopped smiling; in fact, he chuckles once or twice.
"As for the chemist...I assure you of his reliability. Doctor Crane was fired from Arkham Asylum for his unethical experiments on the patients under in his care. He has quite literally, nowhere else to go."
He makes a casual gesture when asked about the security around the refinery. They talk of other things afterword; small talk and casual conversation. Falcone is, if a thug, a cultured one. He has a passion for the arts. Chill doesn't, but Hagen does, and Falcone's sermons on the Baroque period are...quit elegant.
"Thank you, Joseph. That will be all."
And Hagen is escorted to the door, his weapon recovered, and bidden a farewell from Falcone's guards.
((I'm leaving the time and place for the ambush up to you.))
The pistol lowers by about half an inch. At its current angle, should Dent fire it, Elliot would be the last of his family. The comment about his wife had definitely affected him. Whether for good or ill was up for debate.
"What do you want?"
"I want to know your plan, Mister Dent. You're not stupid. You know the risks. You know you can't win. Men like you, men like me, we'll try even if we can't, but we always have a plan, don't we?
What's your plan, Mister Dent... and more importantly... how can I help?
Despite all appearances to the contrary, Mister Dent. I have some competence in what I do. You might have notice that Joe Chill had a tranquilizer dart in his neck when he was brought in, that his veins were pumped full of a very specific chemical cocktail.
"This city...sometimes...no, I'm sorry. But to think that everybody's got a plan, and is plotting and conspiring for justice...I'm sorry. I feel like I'm in Julius Caesar."
He composes himself, then, and sets his pistol down on the desk.
"My plan, when you think about it, is really rather simple. I'm going to run, openly and with full disclosure. I'm going to put myself out in the open, as much as possible. No lies, as few easy platitudes as possible, and as much media coverage as I can. The Mob can't touch me in the open. As long as I'm in the public eye, I'm safe."
Hush, eyes tracking the gun even as he listens to Dent's speech, notices the DA's calender. The man has a fundraiser at St. Luke's Hospital tomorrow. Very interesting, and a very nice coincidence. Elliot worked there. It would be very easy for the young surgeon to attend.
"It doesn't sound like much, does it? But that's its beauty. You can't live in fear. You can't hide away from the world, and expect wonders to come to you. But if you want to help, there is one thing you can do..."
He opens the top drawer of his desk, and fishes out a manila folder.
"Get this to the Records department of the GCPD. Without them seeing you."
Should Hush open the folder, he'll find a single piece of paper, seemingly signed and notarized by the Commissioner himself. It's a transfer form. Placing one Lieutenant James Gordon as Head of Internal Affairs.
By the time Walker gets into the restaurant, Falcone is long gone, having headed out the back entrance once his meal was completed. It wasn't too much of a problem. Judgment waited for that man. He could be patient.
And as Hagen exits the restaurant, he calmly walks away, not daring to break character. Several blocks later, he reassumes his normal features. Unaware that among the rooftops, he is being followed. Gray eyes track the actor's progress, and his teeth gleam in as he turns away from the edge.
So that's how it is.
*End of Gotham Year One: Issue #1. Written by industrious, kpenguin, doliest, Sojobo, and DeafNotDumb. Art by David Mazzucchelli. All four of you receive 5 power points. Issue #2 will begin in the same thread in a few hours.*
James Gordon lived in a small townhouse on the edge of town. It was hardly the best neighborhood, but it was very close to Gotham University. As such, while income was low, it was far from crime-ridden. Drug trafficking was restricted to the soft stuff and the institution had a very nicely paid private security service.
It's late at night, but the windows on the top floor are still lit. He's waiting for Walker to show up.
Office of the District Attorney
Dent nods once to Hush, then calmly walks out the door. There is flash of metal, and on instinct, Hush catches a set of keys that the man had thrown at him.
"Lock the place up when you're done, will you?"
Whistling an odd little tune, he strolls out of the office.
Hagen pulls up to Gordon's townshouse in Katherine's car, already disguised as the surly detective. "She" kills the engine and the lights, making a show of looking about to make sure she hasn't been followed or noticed, then opens the door. Walker's trademark cane* is extended out and slammed into the pavement, and she heaves herself out, cursing her leg softly.
Silently, Hagen hopes the real Walker is lurking nearby with her gun ready to save his skin.
Spoiler
Going to use Connected to have one of his hollywood propmaker friends make a reasonable facsimile of Walker's cane in the time before this happened. Also, obviously taking 10 on that Disguise check, total of 37, 42 if my new PP are valid.
Katherine watches herself walk up to Gordon's door. It's quite an unnerving feeling, and she wonders if this is what other people see: the angry face, the slow limp, the tap-tap of the stick, the sharp eyes. She doesn't exactly look pretty, but the cop can't help but feel solid pride at the fierce figure making her way down the street. Frankly, she'd like to see anyone try something against that.
But because she suspects the Smiler's made of tougher stuff, she'd hidden herself in the shadows with her balacarva over her head and her gun in her hand.
Spoiler
Rolling stealth: hide. (1d20+15)[32]
Notice: Keep an eye out for any suspicious activity. (1d20+12)[15]
Luigi has been after these guys for a while. His deep grey eyes scan the subjects as he himself keeps hiding in the dark corner of a nearby ally. He sees the woman walking out of the car. The "woman", sure. It would be interesting to see what is this strange man up to.
((In the future, please use the forum roller, Terron.))
Gordon's House
It's a quiet night, and "Walker's" cane is the only sound one can hear. Hagen enters the house, sees the place is deserted. There is a faint scribbling noise from upstairs.
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Re: Gotham: Year One
