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Issue #0
Writer: industrious, DeafNotDumb, Sophistemon, Bruendor_Cavescout, and ChronicLunacy
Artist: Jim Lee
Page One: I want 1 and 4 to be twice the size as 2 and 3. Split the page into threes, length-wise, then divide the center one in half.
PIC 1
OPEN ON the Mayor's office. Nice place, really. Dark wood. Sparsely furnished; I want lots of empty desk space, one or two figurines. Mostly paperwork.
I think the office should be one of those with a the back wall as an entire window; that very modern sort of idea. It's night, though, and there isn't any light except the moon. HARVEY DENT is behind the desk; have his face and suit obscured by the shadow. Only way to know it's him is the nameplate.
The phone is ringing.
(No diologue)
PIC 2
Same image as before, but Dent has the phone to his ear.
HARVEY;
Hello?
HARVEY;
I see.
PIC 3
Harvey leans forward, and now we get to see that great design you sent me for the guy. I mean, his left side isn't that grotesque screwed up way it is in normal comics. It looks like he's had major reconstructive surgery, but he definitely doesn't look normal. That side of his skin is much paler than his normal shade; it looks plastic-like. Same with the shock of white hair; it shouldn't look normal.
HARVEY; Gordon. Call them.
Make sure they get that they're seeing it from Gordon's perspective.
Page Two
PIC 1
GORDON on the rooftop of the GCPD. His hand's on the switch of the new SIGNAL. Make sure the readers don't see the design yet. I want a shot of Harvey's reelection poster on the rooftop door. A face shot, and underneath, the caption: THE ONLY HONEST TWO-FACED POLITICIAN YOU'LL EVER KNOW.
GORDON; Showtime.
PIC 2
The Gotham sky and skyline. It's a cloudy night, because it's rarely sunny in Gotham. Make sure that it's not too early in the night, though; banks are still open. This is important.
Caption(I want a purple border on these) (NO TAIL);
Come one, come all
Effects; Thunk.
PIC 3
As above, but with the new SIGNAL shining above the sky. No Batman means a different signal is required. Like we talked about on the phone, it's going to cast a red light onto Gotham (Red skiess at night, criminals take flight!), and an image of Lady Justice on it.
Caption (NO TAIL);
Welcome to the world's greatest entertainment since the fall of Rome.
Page Three
This layout, I want to be very staggered. Mostly white, with square boxes. Sort of like snapshots.
PIC 1
A bank. A crowd of people in line. Normal stuff.
Caption(NO TAIL);
Life.
PIC 2
A group of armed men in black ski masks enter. One of them fires a shotgun, kills one of the people on the line.
Caption(NO TAIL);
Death
PIC 3
Shotgun-guy is pointing the gun at the woman behind the counter.
Caption (NO TAIL);
Victims
PIC 4
Panicked customers are covered by the other people.
Caption (NO TAIL);
Voyeurs
PIC 5
The people at the bank have been separated into groups; one of them is filled with people in nice clothes (suits, pearls, etc).
Caption (NO TAIL);
The Best of Society.
PIC 6
Another group. Decidedly less fancy.
Caption (NO TAIL);
The Lowest of Plebeians.
PIC 7
The Bank Vault is open; a pallet of bills is being taken out.
Caption (NO TAIL);
All Compliments of the Ultimate Showman-Fate!
PIC 8
Back to the bank doors. Glass, but you can't see out onto the Street.
Caption (TAIL goes to the crack between the doors);
All that's missing...
Page 4
PIC 1
The doors burst open. Enter the JOKER. I know you've played around with other people's character designs, but I want him to be the Joker, and instantly recognizable as such. Have him carrying a guitar case, though.
JOKER; ...Is the Colosseum!
Page 5
Pic 1
JOKER taps his head thoughtfully, sticks his lip out.
JOKER; Hold on a moment...
Pic 2
JOKER sticks his finger up; face is jubilant.
JOKER; No we don't!
Pic 3
Two young people-early to mid 20s, are thrown to the ground. You can clearly see the girl's engagement ring.
A knife it in between them, blade sunk into the floor. You can tell it's just been thrown that way; have some lines to indicate this.
JOKER(Off-Panel); You two! Fight to the Death!
Pic 4
The couple are hesitating...
JOKER(You can see his shoes, at least); If you don't...
Page Six
Pic 1
Shot of Joker from the waist-up, now. He's got a pistol (normal-looking pistol) and he's pointing it at a infant held by a mother.
JOKER; I'll make sure that that baby never had to bother anyone again!
Pic 2
The Joker laughs. I don't think you need more description than that.
The doors swung open wide behind the Joker, slapping against the door-stops with a loud bang. Framed in the doorway was a man in a brown trench coat and a wide-brimmed hat, but the adornments blocked out so much of his features that no details could be made out immediately. Slowly, the brim of the hat rose as the man tilted his chin up and the dominant feature of his "face" was made known -- a glowing, red monocle where his right eye should have been. The rest of his head was covered by a metallic mask that made recognizing him impossible and glaringly simple at the same time. While no one knew his real name, the mask was a common, if fearfully whispered rumor in the circles upon circles of crime in the city of Gotham. Standing there, facing off against the clown king of crime, was Deadshot, the vigilante gunman, the scourge of the underworld, the man who never missed.
Deadshot didn't draw a weapon yet, but one of his arms shot up and the report of a gun rang out within the bank. The pistol in the Joker's hands was the target. If all went as planned, there was a shower of sparks and the piece flew from the freak's hand to the corner of the room as a single bullet struck it from his grip. Smoke from the shot slowly wafted toward the ceiling from the sleeve of Deadshot's trenchcoat in the aftermath. It had happened so fast, and the vigilante just stood there, glaring with that cyclopean stare.
"I remember the Colosseum. How about we feed you to the lions instead, laughing boy?"
In the event that the shot didn't connect, or the Joker managed to keep hold of the weapon, the single shot would serve as a functioning warning. Hopefully, the Joker and his henchmen would see the single shot like a cannonball across a ship's bow. The intent was to inform the offensive madman that things would be easier on him if he surrendered. Though the first shot hadn't done any damage...there was more than one round in Deadshot's arsenal.
Spoiler
Ranged Disarm (Improved Sunder negates penalty for targeting held objects.): (1d20+12)[27]
If the attack beats the Joker's defense, there's an opposed roll of the attack's damage versus the villain's Strength. See P.156 of the Core for details. Disarm:(1d20+8)[21]
(1d20)[12]
__________________
Green Lantern and Cyrine by DarthRaynn!
"Ambassador, in the course of my life, I have more than once been too ignorant to know that something was impossible before I did it anyway. I see no reason to jeopardize that success." - Antillus Maximus Princeps' Fury
Spoiler
Kismet and Deadshot by kpenguin.
Last edited by ChronicLunacy : 04-24-2011 at 10:48 PM.
"Oh no no no not again no. Please, not this time-"
Crispus Allen fumbles with the commlink as he tries to balance putting it into his ear, dropping his drink and not-panicking at the same time. He manages all three, and everybody turns to look as his coffee drops to the floor and rolls away, but he's not thinking about that now, because he's just managed to fit the microphone underneath his chin. There's a short crackle as the commlink connects to something on the other end.
He sighs. "God above, please tell me that's not you there, and please tell me that you're not going where I think you are..."
There's an incredulous pause. Allen covers the mic with his hand, and speaks to the room at large. "Gone to Pawn."
It's impossible to illustrate the hubbub that these three words create in the already chaotic environment of a busy police office, but Allen ignores it. He's too concerned with whatever's happening on the other end of the mic.
"Sir, what the hell do you think you're doing? You-"
A short, sustained burst of profanity from the other end silences him. He tries again.
"We have teams going there! Not you! What is so important that you have to be there?"
There's a short burst of static, and then a silence in the office, giving birth to a thousand terrible thoughts. Finally, Crispus Allen clears his throat.
"Oh." He says. "Him?"
There's another pause.
"MacDonald gave you the directions?" He asks. "She was logged in? What meant you couldn't tell us?"
"Time. I see." He sighs. "Just lucky she was on." There's a weary sigh as the policeman receives confirmation. "How'd you know about it?" He asks.
Gotham City Bank
"I just happened to be in the area." Katherine hisses into her mic. "Goddamn Gordon called me up."
There's a reply, and Katherine just snarls a little as she makes her reply. "Just shut up! I've got no time to concentrate! I'm nearly there!"
There's a pause, and then the person on the other line speaks again. Katherine smiles. "Yeah. You, too." She says.
It's only taken about a couple of minutes of frantic running, and she's here. Given the pain in her leg and - well, just about everywhere - she figures she understands why the stories all tend to gloss over this part of her job. Dodging down the back streets of Gotham is never glamorous, no matter what the situation. With a sigh, she switches off the comlink in her ear (no distractions), and gives herself a moment to prepare. No point rushing in just to get shot.
Her left hand hovers over her pocket. "Gun." She whispers. Her right grips her stick. "Sword." Finally, her left hand goes up again to a spot just below her neck, where something dangles from a necklace. "Shield." The back door to the bank hangs in front of her, and she wonders what lies beyond.
Alright. She's as ready as she's ever gonna be. No time to waste. She recalls the directions that MacDonald gave her. Go in this door, one right, two sharp lefts, and she'll be there. No problems, right? Right?
Right.
Lieutenant Walker, Gotham's Big Blue
"Freeze." Walker says calmly. "Police."
The Lieutenant stands in what is her now iconic uniform, the deep navy blue standing out against the shiny background of the bank. Behind her, one of the side doors clicks gently shut. In her right hand is a heavy revolver, silver and shiny with polish and general use, and her left grips the swordstick that everybody knows.
She looks across to where the man she will always think of as the Smiler stands, all in his garish villainy and his manic laugh. "You know, I remember you when you dressed like a humorless little git, but you had some intelligence in your jokes." She said calmly. "At least you were actually funny then."
Spoiler
Using intimidate to taunt the Joker (if allowed) in order to get him to focus his fury on her: (1d20+21)[23] If not allowed, feel free to use the roll as intimidation against the mooks.
Delaying main action, to see what's happening before shooting like an idiot.
The Question, Gotham’s Faithful and Faceless Defender
Kate raced across Gotham’s rooftops towards the bank, the Justice signal burning crimson on the black clouds that hung low in the sky. They were heavy with rain, but had yet to deliver upon the threat of drenching the city. As she leapt from rooftop to rooftop, she listened to her assistants back at Alpha Command, relaying vital information back to them. “ETA to the bank, five minutes. What sort of intel do we have on the threat, sir?" She leapt across a wide alleyway, grabbing ahold of the fire escape a few floors down. She swung herself over the rail, and climbed the fire escape back to the top of the roof as she listened. “Ten masked men, wielding various firearms, and led by…" Her stomach tightened as she heard the report. “The Joker. Damn it, how did he escape from Arkham again? Gordon and Dent were right to call us in. Rhetoric, remind me to talk to Lock-Up after this. We either need to put him in the Slammer or convince the asylum to beef up security. Again." She picked up her speed – with The Joker involved, it wasn’t a matter of if he would open fire on innocents, but a matter of when.
She came to a stop atop a tall building across from the bank. She closed her eyes beneath her Pseudoderm mask, and chanted a quiet prayer. Several characters of Hebrew script appeared around where her left eye would be, and the world’s secret connections began to reveal themselves to her. She saw a woman with an obvious limp heading around the back of the bank – definitely Lt. Walker, covering the rear entrance. She saw a man wearing a brown trenchcoat and matching hat heading towards the bank as well, his hands in his pockets, and an ominous red-glowing eye from beneath the hat – Deadshot would be covering the front, it seemed. That pinned the criminals in, which was a dangerous plan – desperate men do desperate things, doubly so when The Joker calls the shots. She had to find an oblique entrance, and quietly. The light of binah shone from around the side of the bank, and she changed positions to get a better look. A smile came up from beneath her blank features – someone had left a window unlocked on the third floor, leading into a janitorial closet. She made her way to the window, opened it as silently as she could, and ceased drawing upon the sephira.
She followed the sound of The Joker’s chilling laughter, and came to a balcony overlooking the hostages. She saw the purple-clad clown, pointing a gun at an infant held by a desperately-pleading mother. She knew what she had to do – calling upon hod, she quickly made her descent into the bank, quietly interposing herself between The Joker’s gun and the baby. “There are two ways this goes,” she thought as she took up her position as a human shield. “Either the rest of the team shows up, distracting The Joker long enough for me to grab the gun, or, he shoots, and hits me rather than the child." She sighed grimly. “The sacrifices I make for you, Gotham."
Spoiler
Kate's action: Activate Hod (invisibility), and silently move between The Joker and the woman holding the baby. Ready an action to attempt to strike The Joker once one of the other members of the team burst onto the scene.
Last edited by Bruendor_Cavescout : 04-26-2011 at 11:43 AM.
Reason: Error in dice roll
The Paddy Wagon screams through the streets of Gotham, its sirens blaring in a shrill, cacophonous klaxon. Gone were the days when he might drive along the twisting back roads of the city, silently approaching his prey like a thief in the night, a whispered urban legend. Now he drives brazenly, out in the open, swerving in, through, and around traffic in death-defying feats of automotive skill. Let them see him, let them hear him coming. Let the innocent draw hope and the guilty draw fear from the armed and armored car that roared past them.
As he drives, his police scanner let him in on the details. A group of armed men entered the bank - not sure how many - and there was at least one reported fatality as a result of a point-blank shotgun blast to the torso. At their head, the Joker. Lock-Up shakes his head. He needed to talk to the Question about him, maybe convince Gordon and Dent to permit his incarceration in the Slammer. The Joker was at least as dangerous as the metahuman prisoners for which the new Slammer was designed. He was certainly no ordinary gangster.
Worthless, coddling doctors and impotent, powerless bureaucrats... he thinks, a scowl marring the features below his mask. How many people have died because you won't let me take care of it? A familiar anger rises in his chest, like bile, but he swallows it down. "Focus on the mission," he reminds himself. He'd read a book on Eastern meditation a few years back, and employs some of those techniques to calm himself as he drives the Paddy Wagon through two tractor-trailer shipping trucks traveling in opposite directions on either side of the road.
He kills the siren and drives the rest of the distance in silence before parking a block away from the bank. He leaps from the driver's seat and with a crack, zing, whiz his grapple gun has him on the rooftops. He makes his way towards the bank. His angle of approach allows him to see an open window on the third floor, leading into what looks to be a storage closet. He smiles beneath his mask. One of his allies is already here - at least one! The Question, more than likely; she always seemed to know what was going on.
And probably Deadshot, too. It would be good to work with him again. He hefts himself lithely through the window and makes his way to the balcony. He holds back for a moment, surveying the situation. Deadshot, one of his wristols smoking. Lieutenant Walker, her hands wrapped around a large handgun and her signature swordcane. There was no sign of the Question, but that didn't mean anything. And there, in the center of it all, at the heart of the chaos, was the Joker and his goons. Lock-Up removes his nightstick from his belt.
"Joker!" he shouts, his voice like gravel in a blender. "You're surrounded. Surrender and come quietly. Final warning."
"West Side Story?" said a disembodied voice directly in front of The Joker. A glowing Hebrew symbol appeared about where The Question's left leg was, and as it flashed into existence, she was already moving. She aimed a right cross at his cheek, her light blue trenchcoat fluttering with her sudden movement. "I never pegged you for a Bernstein fan. But, I suppose he's better than Sondheim." She grabbed at his gun, trying to keep it trained on her rather than the hostages, and aimed a strike at his throat.
Seeing a shift in the action, Lock-Up vaults over the balcony railing and drops to the faux-marble floor of the bank, landing in a crouch. His new armor does a fantastic job of absorbing the shock - he doesn't feel a thing. He lands as closely as possible to one of the Joker's goons, preferably the one that had used a shotgun to murder an innocent. He uses the momentum of his fall to launch himself towards the thug, the nightstick held high in a rather large and imposing fist. When he reaches the man, he brings the nightstick down at the juncture of neck and shoulder. The clavicle, or collarbone, is one of the most fragile in the human body, certainly the most prone to breaking. It is, therefore, Lock-Up's preferred target, being exceptionally vulnerable to fractures that are regarded as being devastatingly painful. So far as nonlethal crippling is concerned, attacking the clavicle is a better choice than most. "You were warned, Joker!" he shouts.
Actions:
Spoiler
Using a Move action to leap from the balcony (the suit has Slow Fall, negating damage, if any) and approaching the nearest goon.
Using a Standard action to attack the goon with the nightstick (DC25). (1d20+10)[21].
If the roll is 17 or higher, that's a Critical Threat (Improved Critical 3). If Lock-Up downs the goon in one hit, he may attack another goon in range, if any (Takedown Attack 2).
They try to get their weapons between themselves and Lock-Up's nightstick, but the man is too strong; he smashes the firearms to bits, and the fractured arms are enough to drop them.
Deadshot smiled, but behind his blank, white mask it wasn't really noticeable. He took a few steps so that he was facing down the five gunmen and their hostages like a gunfighter from the Old West. The trench coat swishing about his knees only added to the effect. It was a shame he'd taken off his hat, actually.
"Looks like what we have here is a predicament, boys. Do I hold fire, wait for a clear shot, and plead with you not to hurt anyone? It's certainly what I should do and all." he sighed theatrically before his arms snapped up. There was a quick burst of thunder, like someone tearing a phone book in half, and each of the five thugs suddenly blossomed with wounds to their gun-side shoulders, elbows, or arms. It was over before the hostages could even blink or gasp. "Or I could just shoot all of you. Quicker that way. Innocent hostages, please find cover? Much obliged." he finished. "By the way. Anyone see my hat?"
Spoiler
Autofire 8. -2 from struggling hostages, -3 from walking the shot three spaces. Taking ten for a 17 on each minion. At PL3 that should be more than enough to hit all of them, I hope.
__________________
Green Lantern and Cyrine by DarthRaynn!
"Ambassador, in the course of my life, I have more than once been too ignorant to know that something was impossible before I did it anyway. I see no reason to jeopardize that success." - Antillus Maximus Princeps' Fury
Spoiler
Kismet and Deadshot by kpenguin.
Last edited by ChronicLunacy : 04-30-2011 at 09:09 PM.
The Joker's minions are all blown back, collapsed onto the floor. And the Joker himself is still woozy from the Question's blow, unable to speak for the moment. But, as it turns out, not so woozy that he can't throw a pair of spheres at the party, purple gas hissing from the nozzles concealed within.
Spoiler
Everybody make a DC 20 Fort Save. Effects are Morph and Drain Constitution; this would be Joker Venom, folks.
When the gas begins to billow out of the grenade, Lock-Up inhales deeply, trying to fill his lungs with as much fresh air as he can before breathing becomes dangerous. Unfortunately, the Joker venom rushes out faster than anticipated, and his breath is laced with the poison. He coughs, once, losing his breath, and after that it's too late. He can feel the muscles of his face tightening so hard that his flesh grows pale and pulling his lips into a ghastly grin. Though he can't see it, he knows that his eyes are growing wide, wild and bloodshot as the toxin courses through his system. After that, it starts slowly, but rises.
"Heh," he coughs. "Hack! Hah. Hoo. Hee." He drops to his knees, clutching his sides.
"Hahaha," he chuckles. "Hooheehee," he chortles.
And then, finally: "Ah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah-hah!"
It explodes out of him and his chest heaves with the force of it.
"Qu-hah! Que-hee-hee-stion!" he calls. "Ho-ho-how do y-hah! You stop a circus?"
Trusting his armor's filtration system to protect him against the poison, Deadshot didn't try to avoid being exposed. His trust proved well-founded, as he only experienced a little bit of a copper taste instead of starting to laugh like a madman. He turned toward everyone else and cupped one hand to his face as the purple gas enveloped him, yelling for everyone to clear the area. "Everyone out! Don't touch or breathe the smoke!" he shouted, quickly becoming just a shadow with a glowing, red eye in the midst of the cloud. "Damned madman..." he growled as his mask switched to enhanced vision mode, going infrared in order to cut through the smoke better. The Joker needed to be put down...he just hoped he could keep himself from shooting to kill.
__________________
Green Lantern and Cyrine by DarthRaynn!
"Ambassador, in the course of my life, I have more than once been too ignorant to know that something was impossible before I did it anyway. I see no reason to jeopardize that success." - Antillus Maximus Princeps' Fury
The Question felt her heart caught in her throat as she saw the noxious purple gas emitted by the spheres. "Deadshot! I need ventilation - yesterday!" She aimed another strike at The Joker, trying to keep the lunatic off balance, really more for show than any attempt to harm the psychotic clown any further. After her flurry of strikes, she bounded away from The Joker, and grabbed as many of the hostages as she could manage. "Come with me, we're getting you out of here!"
Spoiler
Super secret roll: (1d20)[2]
Last edited by Bruendor_Cavescout : 05-03-2011 at 10:00 AM.
The Joker blocks a nasty blow to the groin, and presses in close to the Question, his grin only a few inches away from her face. His eyes stare where the mask hides her's, but it still feels as if he's gazing straight at her. The Joker has a very forceful sort of presence.
"I know you ain't a fan of the better sex, toots, but you don't need to take our your penis envy on little ol' me!"
The armored behemoth rises shakily to his feet and forces his hands from their grasping positions at his sides. His chest hurt from laughing, his face hurt from grinning - his entire body hurt from what the poison was doing to him, but he couldn't stop to worry about it. Right now there was only the Mission, and he needed to do whatever he could to protect as many people as possible. He takes a few staggering steps, closing in on the Joker, and hears his snide little comment about gender envy. Anger clouds his mind and that, combined with the effects of the gas, puts a damper on his swing when he attacks.
Actions:
Spoiler
Movement action: Approaching the Joker. If Flanking applies, add its bonus to the attack below.
Standard action: attacking the Joker with the nightstick (DC25, Critical range 17-20) (1d20+10)[11]
The good news is, she drew the Joker's attention enough for him to shoot only her. The bad news is, she's been shot.
The bullet's lodged somewhere from her torso to her thigh - that whole side's a little numb, she can't really tell. The thing they never prepare you for is how much the initial reaction to properly being shot hurts - it's not like the movies or comic books, where a glancing blow will knock you back a bit and have you up all in a jiffy, ready and raring to go like some idiotic action hero. No, it will send you right back on your ass and leave you sprawled on the floor like a nobody while the whole fight goes on around you.
This was, Katherine muzzily reflected, probarbly not the Gotham MCU's finest hour. Luckily, there's others here: Katherine can reconize the vauge shapes of some of her fellow freaks and lunantics, from that flamboyant dolt Deadshotty, who'd probably rather date one of his guns than a girl, and that big burly Bolton who's just as subtle as ever, should probably be glad he didn't crash his freaking van through the wall, for such a smart guy he's got a mind like a brick - and somewhere there is that Question bint, who's probably doing something smart and sensible right now, like standing up. Katherine feels that she should be following her example.
The Joker must have dropped his gas sometime recently, because the policewoman can feel her lungs heaving in and out, forcing out the laughter and leaving her gasping for breath and energy as her muscles spasm sporadically. She looks as she feels, a right bitch, and the face that gets up is not a happy smiling face. Probably more like a visage. Or a grimace.
She's up just in time to hear that white-faced lunantic push Lock-Up away with a silly, childish joke on his lips. Right. That's enough, Katherine decides, and drops her gun into what she hopes is her pocket, and lunges towards the Joker best as she can.
She sees that waxen grimace, and the swordstick slides out of her cane as silken as steel can."Looking for new scars, Joker?" She mutters, half-dazed, to herself. "Let's see if I can get you some more!"
Steel slides towards her opponent's face.
Spoiler
Attack Joker with Swordstick. To hit: (1d20+13)[32]. Toughness DC 15+8.
Following the Question's direction, Deadshot spun and fired, walking his shots across any of the bank's windows that he could see. Hopefully, by punching out the glass he could vent the Joker's poison enough that none of the hostages would be affected. What he really wanted to do was put one of his rubber stun-bullets right between that laughing idiot's eyes, but hopefully the others could get their feet back under themselves and handle it without him.
Spoiler
Trying to get rid of the Joker Venom cloud. I figure I don't have to roll to use autofire on the windows, but if I have to I'll do it in the OOC thread.
__________________
Green Lantern and Cyrine by DarthRaynn!
"Ambassador, in the course of my life, I have more than once been too ignorant to know that something was impossible before I did it anyway. I see no reason to jeopardize that success." - Antillus Maximus Princeps' Fury
Dammit, thought The Question. That gas is taking a lot out of us - we need to end this fast. The Joker's attention was diverted as he took a moment to stab the Lieutenant, so she spun a sidekick into his midsection. It was a solid blow, one that took the psychopath by surprise and connected in the soft spot beneath the ribs and above the hips.
He staggers backwards and pinwheels his arms to stay standing, something that would likely never happen if he'd not been coughing up the Joker's goofy gas. His vision blurs red, not because he's angry, no, he's still under the psychological effect of the Joker's venom, but because the minute blood vessels in his eyes are beginning to burst due to the strain of the poison in his body. It hurts to move, it hurts to breath, it hurts to think. He wants nothing more than to just lie down and let the laughter escort him into blissful unconsciousness.
But the others are still fighting, and who knows what other tricks the Joker might have up his sleeves? He has to keep trying to finish it. Even if he's too unsteady to land a hit, even if he can only serve as a distraction, every little bit helps. Lock-Up takes a step forward, flanking the Joker, and raises his club. He brings it across towards the madman from the other side.
Actions:
Spoiler
Move action: approaching the Joker and assuming a flanking position with the Question.
Standard action: attacking the opposite side of the Joker's body, opposed to the side that the Question just kicked (DC25) (1d20+10)[28]
The madman is knocked to the floor, wheezing all the while. He's still conscious, though; slowly, and with great care, he manages to get up, swaying all the white.
By some mixture of skill and sheer dumb luck, Katherine catches the edge of the Joker's knife on her blade. She holds it there for a second until two of her freaks, Lock-Up and Question, simultaneously act and push the madman back from her, crumpling him to the ground.
Even in her maddened state, where it takes a while for Katherine to see that her opponent has been knocked back, the policewoman can see very clearly that the lunatic is on his last legs, and trying to rise.
There was no better opportunity.
Spoiler
Attacking. To hit: (1d20+12)[26] (-1 due to injured)
Toughness Save DC 23.
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