Byrd Man

Star Wars - Fires of Exaron

Interested

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

You know what? Fuck it. I may be overreaching but let's see if I can pull off a second character.

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

THE GREEN ARROW

^{_{OLIVER QUEEN ♦ POLITICIAN ♦ STAR CITY ♦}}

C H A R A C T E R O R I G I N S:

---

^{"Which side are you on, boys? Which side are you on?"
-- Florence Reece}

Playboy Oliver Queen lived a vapid life of pleasure-seeking, never having any aspirations besides the next thrill. The day it all changed was the day he arrived on the island. After being marooned on a remote isle in the South Pacific, Ollie was forced to survive by his wits alone. He soon discovered the island was a hub for heroin production, the native populace being used as slaves. Calling on his past archery skill, Ollie crafted a homemade bow and arrows and drove the criminals from the island, being rescued in the process. Finally motivated, Ollie took up the mantle of the masked archer and became the Green Arrow, protector of Star City.

Today, Oliver works for Star City in two realms. The first is as Green Arrow, the second is as that of City Councilman and philanthropist. Having sold his controlling stake in Queen Industries years ago Oliver runs the Papp Street Mission, a non-profit shelter for the homeless of Star City. Ollie successfully ran for city council and now sits on the eight-man governing body for the city.

C H A R A C T E R N O T E S:

---

Sergeant John Diggle: Star City PD patrolman, Green Arrow's ally on the police force.
Jimmy Fitzroy: Star City Mayor
Jerry Conklin: President of the city council, leader of the council's conservative faction
Barry Calhoun: Ollie's fellow liberal councilman
Shawna Sanchez: KSTV News reporter

S A M P L E P O S T

---

THE OCTOPUS

City Hall
Star City, CA

The thick, wooden doors leading into the city council chamber burst open and out rushed Oliver Queen. He wore a black suit three-piece suit with a white shirt and an emerald tie, his usual council meeting attire. Ollie kept his hands in his pocket as he stalked through the halls back towards his office.

"Councilman Queen!"

A small gaggle of reporters chased after him down the corridor. He stopped and turned around. There were a few newspaper men, the lady from Channel 6 with a camera hoisted on her shoulder, and a radio reporter with a handheld voice recorder. Ollie brushed his lapels and took a deep breath as they swooped in on him.

One of the newspaper men spoke first. "We saw you leaving the chamber in a huff. You don't agree with the majority decision."

"Considering I voted against it, Mike, that'd be a no." He winked at the reporter before flashing a grin. "Regular Bob Woodward you are."

A titter went through the group. Now that he had made them laugh, Ollie went on the offensive.

"This franchise tax was one of my key promises when I ran for office, guys. Of course I'm going to be a little sore when I get voted down by short-sighted people who are just worried about reelection. This tax was a step towards the big companies that are slowly working their hooks into Star City"

"Critics of the tax argue that it's a pay to play scenario designed to drown out smaller competitors," the TV lady said.

Ollie thrust a finger forward. "No, it's a tax on the companies who are already making a hefty profit on our city. They big companies have done a fine job drowning out the smaller competitors on their own. They don't need our help."

The radio reporter said, "What do you say to Councilman Conklin's arguments that those companies are responsible for the stability in Star City?"

"They were an asset in a time of peril," said Ollie. "But the time of crisis has passed. We must let regulation and government lead the way. Conklin might be against that seeing as how he was selected as El Dorado Power & Water's Man of the Year this year. The franchise tax would help shift the balance of power back to the government, as will keeping the SCPD away from Thornguard."

The TV reporter asked, "Thornguard Security's work in other towns shows that in six months alone it can be more effective than the Star City PD has ever been. They even promise a drop off in Green Arrow sightings."

Ollie shook his head. "The towns they've worked in before aren't Star City. They're smaller and more affluent and less ethnically diverse. It's easy to police Mayberry. Comparing Thornguard's work in those towns against SCPD statistics is unfair. And to answer your Green Arrow question, with the brutality and excessive violence complaints Thornguard has gotten over the years, I'm sure Green Arrow has already been added to their payroll."

Another laugh from the reporters gave Ollie a chance to wrap up the questions.

"If we allow Thornguard to take over emergency services, then there will be four companies that are dangerously close to running the day to day affairs of this city. We have to scale back their control and influence and make sure its the voice of the people, not the voice of profit margins, are in control of our local government. That's all for now, folks. Thanks."

He held his hands up and backed away from the reporters before turning around and heading up two flights to his office on the third floor. The small space wasn't much to look at it, barely larger than a cubicle and with no window. It was identical to all the council offices. All eight city councilors shared office space on the third floor as well as Doris, a collective secretary. The job was only part-time anyway. Ollie never hung around the place much if there was no need for it, he preferred to be at the mission or on the streets.

Sitting down behind his desk, Ollie kicked his feet up and looked at the wall. Everyone called it his conspiracy board, but it helped him keep track of things. He had the names of all three major companies and what they did for Star City listed with interconnecting lines running between the companies where their duties may overlap. There was:

Hephaestus: Building and road construction
El Dorado Power & Water: Utilities
California Transportation Trust: Mass transit

It was a libertarian's wet dream, a city where private companies provided the lion's share of services with minimal oversight by the municipal government. In theory, the government would get the best services for the cheapest cost. The great business experiment they had called it three years ago when the city council approved it. But so far the great experiment wasn't panning out. The city went with the three companies because they were the only ones who ever placed bids. Anybody who did place a bid ended up pulling out suddenly and one of the other three got the job. The shady nature of the whole affair is why he got back into politics and ran for the city council. So far he was the only person on the council trying to raise awareness. He knew most of the city council and Mayor Fitzroy were getting some sort of support from the companies, but he couldn't prove it.

The overlap between the three companies made it a tangled mess. CTT supplied Hephaestus with the heavy machinery it needed, El Dorado got the power trucks. Hephaestus maintained the roads and rails CTT's buses and trains operated on. And now Thornguard was getting thrown into the mix. Its bids for emergency service was low as anything possible for a privatized police, fire, and paramedic force. Odds on the cars would come from CTT and their facilities would be maintained by Hephaestus. If the Thornguard bill was approved, the four companies would begin to settle over the city like a net and tighten until everyone was so used to their work and rates of pay nobody would argue. And that was when the prices would increase. That's how monopolies worked. Once the octopus got its tentacles in, it flexed them and strangled the life out of its prey. Ollie knew it was wrong on the surface, but something in his gut told him it went deeper. This combination, as shady as it was, had something darker lurking beneath the surface.

He rubbed his head and sighed. Ollie had a plan, more like the makings of a plan, but it was being blocked by the mayor and the rest of the city council. He was just one man against nine others, seven plus the mayor. He'd be checked and outvoted every time. He stood and headed out of his office before the rest of the councilmen got back from the meeting. The powers that be were blocking him, but they sure as hell hadn't counted on the Green Arrow looking into the matter.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

Tokyo

At 2,080 feet the Tokyo Skytree is the tallest structure in Tokyo, and Japan by default. From where I'm squatting atop of it, the entire city is spread out before me. 13.6 million people in the city, three times that amount if you include the metro area. To think, she started out as two fishing huts in the twelfth century. I remember seeing her devastated by firebombs 80 years ago. Every night American bombers flew overhead and rained down destruction. Hundreds of thousands died in the fires and entire parts of the city were erased from the map. Considering what happened to my other children during the war, Tokyo got off light. It makes me a proud father to see how much she’s recovered in the decades since. I know she’s proud..

You see, the city speaks to me. I don't mean in that poetic license way that singer-songwriters wail about, I mean literally. Tokyo is speaking to me right now. A building two blocks away says it has rusted rebar in its foundation. A nightclub in Roppongi whispers out warning Yakuza gangsters are there to torch the place. The subway train at Shimbashi Station is proud to announce that it has arrived a full five seconds ahead of schedule. The train at Mitsukoshimae Station accuses the train at Shimbashi of being a show-off.

Before I could intervene in the squabbling, the hair on the back of my neck started to prickle. Halfway across the city, lamp posts and mailboxes were calling for help. I leapt from the top of the tower and fell through the air at speeds approaching terminal velocity.



The ground was rapidly approaching when I held my hand out. The street split open in a portal just as I hit the road. A half of a second later, I popped out into the street at the other end of town and fell into a warzone. Tokyo Metropolitan Police were in the middle of a shootout with men firing semi-automatic weapons from behind the safety of a minivan. The city hissed that the men fighting were interlopers.

“避難する！” one of the police officers shouted at me in Japanese.

I ignored his order to evacuate and instead leapt into the air. I caught the top of a lampost in my hands and swung my body upwards. My bare feet found purchase on the top of the post and looked down at the scene below.

Four men in suits wearing balaclavas and firing AK47’s took turns blasting off suppressing fire to keep the police in tactical gear at bay.

~They stole from me, Lord Hawksmoor,~ an old and distinguished voice whispered into my ear, patrician in both its tone and disdain. ~They destroyed my vault, tied up my patrons, and robbed me. 2 billion Yen.~

The voice belonged to the Shoko Chukin Bank, one of the country’s oldest and most prestigious financial institutions. I know very little about money – never needed it – but I know a big number when I hear it.

I waved my hand and opened up another portal. I leapt through it and came out of the portal feet first behind the group of bank robbers. I drove one of the gunmen into the back of the van with my feet before flipping to the top of the van to face the other three. A hail of bullets ripped into me, knocking me back off the van and down into the street with a dull thud.

I wasn’t dead. God’s can die, but not from gunfire. Doesn’t mean we can’t feel pain. And getting tagged with fifteen or so rounds of automatic gunfire was indeed painful. No blood was drawn, but there was plenty of bruising and coughing. While I lay on the street and tried to catch my breath, I heard it.

SHICK

Shouts from the bank robbers in a language that was definitely not Japanese, followed by gunfire. There was the sharp snicker-snack of a blade striking bone and ripping through flesh. A cry of pain from one of the men and I stood up and saw her.



Behind her was one of the gunmen on his knees, a bloody stump where his left hand had once been. The two remaining robbers aimed for her, but she moved like lightning. In an instant, both men were on the ground with severed hands.

“Who the hell are you?” I asked.

She remained silent as she sheathed her swords and walked up to one of the bleeding, moaning men. He said something that I recognized as German, but it was mumbled. She withdrew her blade again and put it to the bleeding man’s throat. The two exchanged words in German, but I was distracted. My eyes went to one of the severed hands. The cut had been surgical and smooth. I crouched down to examine the hand. It had been severed just below the wrist. Wrapped around the wrist was a tattoo, one that led to the palm and showed the green and black of a hissing cobra.

For the first time in over a millenia, I felt uneasy. I recognized that symbol, what it stood for, and who was behind it. Cold sweat began to form on my back and slowly roll down. That snake, brought me back to Egypt, a blood red solar eclipse, plagues of locust, and the end of the world...

“Katana, at ease,” a voice barked from behind me. I stood and turned.

An American man wearing a suit and tie stood with an unlit cigarette dancing at the corner of his mouth. Flanking him on both sides were the police. Tokyo's finest and enough weapons to retake the Philippines were locked on to me. The American looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

“Hmmm, pretty underwhelming,” he said. A small smile danced on his lips as he spoke. “I would figure the God of Cities would strike a more intimidating figure. Mr. Hawksmoor, my name is Sarge Steel. Can I interest you in a little chat?”

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

It’s a masterpiece

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

<Snipped quote by Sep>

There's not too much in the way of magical/supernatural in the accepted roster so far but I was considering S.T.A.K.E. in its infancy through the lens of a jaded veteran S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, who spearheads the new division as weirder phenomenon around the globe starts to outpace S.H.I.E.L.D.'s understanding of mutants and meta-humans, ultimately recruiting certain individuals and building out his department into a legitimate branch of the wider organisation. This could then interact with anyone who is involved with the supernatural (so far only really looking like Allblade and Jack Hawksmoor).

@Roman

That fits with an idea I had.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

JACK HAWKSMOOR

---

^{"I was born here in the city. With my back against the wall. Nothing grows, and life ain't very pretty. No one's there to catch you when you fall"
-- Joe Walsh}

^{_{POLIS♦ GOD ♦ THE CITIES}}

O R I G I N S:

---

In ancient Mesopotamia among the early grouping of huts and tents that would one day be known as civilization was the young boy. As more and more of humanity began to settle down across the globe, the boy's powers grew and spread. In Greece he was called Polis. By the time of Rome's domination, he was called Urbes Maximus.

In the world of the gods, he was seen as strictly a mid-level deity through nearly two thousand years of existence. The 19th century changed all that. As the industrial revolution boomed throughout Europe and the United States, people began to flock to the cities. Millions and millions in crowded tenement houses and sweatshops, their labor and lives an unknowing sacrifice to the god of the cities. By the early 1900's, the man known as Jack Hawksmoor was among the most powerful gods in existence. Now in the early 21st century, over half the world's population lives in cities and Jack's power is only growing.

Supporting Characters:

Snapper Carr -- Homeless man in NYC. High priest of the cities.
Jenny Quantum -- Spirit of the 21st century. Surrogate daughter of Jack's.
Jenny Sparks -- Spirit of the 20th century. Surrogate mother of Jack's. (Flashbacks)
Future -- God of the Future. Used to look like the Jetsons, now looks like Mad Max
Nostalgia -- God of the Past. Future's brother, wears a lot of 80's clothes.
Anon -- God of the Internet Conspiracy. Believes everyone is out to get him.
The Assassin -- Ghost of a murdered Hong Kong cop.
Jesus H. Christ -- The "H" is for Herbert
Gorr -- God Butcher. Guess what he does?

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

Ghosts of Carthage

146 BCE

Carthage was on fire.

Scipio and his generals looked on in pleasure from their vantage point a mile away from the city walls as it all burned. For over three years Carthage had held out as Rome besieged her. They had finally emerged, begging for peace and food and a chance for their children to live. Their pleas fell upon deaf ears. The man whose adopted father had crushed the great Hannibal Barca had no mercy to give the Carthaginians, just the sword and flames. The women and children who survived were bonded in chains, a life of slavery planned for them. After the fires subsided, the Romans would sow salt through the city and its fields. It had been decreed that nothing must ever be allowed to grow here again.

“This too shall befall Rome.”

Scipio turned when he heard the voice. He was the only one. The rest of his staff continued to watch the fire and talk among themselves. They seemed to not notice the man in the strange clothes. It looked like something from the far east, baggy and colorful, like the carvings of the old Babylonian kings in the time before time. He wore no shoes. If the hot sand perturbed him, then he did a good job hiding it.

“What did you say?” asked Scipio.

“You have done something here today that will become legendary for its cruelty. An entire city has been destroyed, boy. You have killed one of my children. One of the greatest city-states of all time is now ash because of you.’

Scipio pulled his sword from the holster on his hip.

“Who are you to speak to me this way, pleb?”

The man smiled and gestured behind Scipio’s shoulders.

“I am someone who can do that.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that his men were frozen in place. Several of them were stopped mid-laugh or speech, their mouths hanging open. Scipio turned back and pointed the tip of his sword at the strange man.

“Are you some sort of wizard?”

“No. I am something much more than that. I am a god.”

“What god dresses like a fool?” Scipio asked with a chuckle. “Truly, you must stand on par with Jupiter.”

“I existed long before Zeus -- and I will call him Zeus and not your sad little Roman name -- was an idea in some drunken Greek shepherd’s mind. And I will exist long after belief in him has fallen by the wayside. But I’m not here to measure… deity size. I am here to deliver a simple message, Scipio.”

The man stepped forward. Scipio reared his sword back to strike, but found that he could not move. Like his fellow soldiers, he was frozen by the man's magic. The man smiled as he placed a finger on Scipio’s temple. He saw the future. His return to Rome, a massive Triumph parade in his honor, given the name and honor of Africanus like his father. But then he saw past all that. He saw Rome conquering the world, one petty kingdom and client state at a time.

With no Carthage standing in its way, Rome grew and grew until she ruled the world. He saw a Rome so big that its people grew lethargic, dependent upon the state and the wealthy for food, he saw its politicians fighting in the Senate and killing in the streets. He saw bloody civil wars and assassinations. A Republic turned into an Empire. Mad emperors killing Roman citizens. An Empire in decline. He saw men at the gates of Rome, men who spoke in a fierce, harsh tongues. Barbarians. And he looked on in horror as they sacked Rome. All this misery and horror, all of it traced back to his decision today.

The man softly whispered in his ear before he removed his finger from Scipio’s temple. Suddenly, Scipio blinked. The man was gone and his generals were staring at him strangely. He was facing the burning city, tears streaming down his face.

“Are you okay, sir?” one of the men asked.

“Yes,” said Scipio. “... ‘This too shall befall Rome.’”

“What was that, sir?”

“Just... Thinking of the future.”

P O S T C A T A L O G:

---

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed interactions and stories.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

[@Byrdman] I never thought I would read the name Snapper Carr in any of these games. Only time I ever remember seeing that guy mentioned my DC Encyclopedia from when I was a kid. Absolutely NUTS.

@rocketrobie2

I AM the encyclopedia.

Ultimate One Universe: Emergence

SURPRISE

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

JACK HAWKSMOOR

---

^{"I was born here in the city. With my back against the wall. Nothing grows, and life ain't very pretty. No one's there to catch you when you fall"
-- Joe Walsh}

^{_{POLIS♦ GOD ♦ THE CITIES}}

O R I G I N S:

---

In ancient Mesopotamia among the early grouping of huts and tents that would one day be known as civilization was the young boy. As more and more of humanity began to settle down across the globe, the boy's powers grew and spread. In Greece he was called Polis. By the time of Rome's domination, he was called Urbes Maximus.

In the world of the gods, he was seen as strictly a mid-level deity through nearly two thousand years of existence. The 19th century changed all that. As the industrial revolution boomed throughout Europe and the United States, people began to flock to the cities. Millions and millions in crowded tenement houses and sweatshops, their labor and lives an unknowing sacrifice to the god of the cities. By the early 1900's, the man known as Jack Hawksmoor was among the most powerful gods in existence. Now in the early 21st century, over half the world's population lives in cities and Jack's power is only growing.

Supporting Characters:

Snapper Carr -- Homeless man in NYC. High priest of the cities.
Jenny Quantum -- Spirit of the 21st century. Surrogate daughter of Jack's.
Jenny Sparks -- Spirit of the 20th century. Surrogate mother of Jack's. (Flashbacks)
Future -- God of the Future. Used to look like the Jetsons, now looks like Mad Max
Nostalgia -- God of the Past. Future's brother, wears a lot of 80's clothes.
Anon -- God of the Internet Conspiracy. Believes everyone is out to get him.
The Assassin -- Ghost of a murdered Hong Kong cop.
Jesus H. Christ -- The "H" is for Herbert
Gorr -- God Butcher. Guess what he does?

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

Ghosts of Carthage

146 BCE

Carthage was on fire.

Scipio and his generals looked on in pleasure from their vantage point a mile away from the city walls as it all burned. For over three years Carthage had held out as Rome besieged her. They had finally emerged, begging for peace and food and a chance for their children to live. Their pleas fell upon deaf ears. The man whose adopted father had crushed the great Hannibal Barca had no mercy to give the Carthaginians, just the sword and flames. The women and children who survived were bonded in chains, a life of slavery planned for them. After the fires subsided, the Romans would sow salt through the city and its fields. It had been decreed that nothing must ever be allowed to grow here again.

“This too shall befall Rome.”

Scipio turned when he heard the voice. He was the only one. The rest of his staff continued to watch the fire and talk among themselves. They seemed to not notice the man in the strange clothes. It looked like something from the far east, baggy and colorful, like the carvings of the old Babylonian kings in the time before time. He wore no shoes. If the hot sand perturbed him, then he did a good job hiding it.

“What did you say?” asked Scipio.

“You have done something here today that will become legendary for its cruelty. An entire city has been destroyed, boy. You have killed one of my children. One of the greatest city-states of all time is now ash because of you.’

Scipio pulled his sword from the holster on his hip.

“Who are you to speak to me this way, pleb?”

The man smiled and gestured behind Scipio’s shoulders.

“I am someone who can do that.”

Glancing over his shoulder, he saw that his men were frozen in place. Several of them were stopped mid-laugh or speech, their mouths hanging open. Scipio turned back and pointed the tip of his sword at the strange man.

“Are you some sort of wizard?”

“No. I am something much more than that. I am a god.”

“What god dresses like a fool?” Scipio asked with a chuckle. “Truly, you must stand on par with Jupiter.”

“I existed long before Zeus -- and I will call him Zeus and not your sad little Roman name -- was an idea in some drunken Greek shepherd’s mind. And I will exist long after belief in him has fallen by the wayside. But I’m not here to measure… deity size. I am here to deliver a simple message, Scipio.”

The man stepped forward. Scipio reared his sword back to strike, but found that he could not move. Like his fellow soldiers, he was frozen by the man's magic. The man smiled as he placed a finger on Scipio’s temple. He saw the future. His return to Rome, a massive Triumph parade in his honor, given the name and honor of Africanus like his father. But then he saw past all that. He saw Rome conquering the world, one petty kingdom and client state at a time.

With no Carthage standing in its way, Rome grew and grew until she ruled the world. He saw a Rome so big that its people grew lethargic, dependent upon the state and the wealthy for food, he saw its politicians fighting in the Senate and killing in the streets. He saw bloody civil wars and assassinations. A Republic turned into an Empire. Mad emperors killing Roman citizens. An Empire in decline. He saw men at the gates of Rome, men who spoke in a fierce, harsh tongues. Barbarians. And he looked on in horror as they sacked Rome. All this misery and horror, all of it traced back to his decision today.

The man softly whispered in his ear before he removed his finger from Scipio’s temple. Suddenly, Scipio blinked. The man was gone and his generals were staring at him strangely. He was facing the burning city, tears streaming down his face.

“Are you okay, sir?” one of the men asked.

“Yes,” said Scipio. “... ‘This too shall befall Rome.’”

“What was that, sir?”

“Just... Thinking of the future.”

P O S T C A T A L O G:

---

A list linking to your IC posts as they're created. This can be used for a reference guide to your character or to summarize completed interactions and stories.

Marvel & DC: Emergence (Canon RP)

becoming self-parody at this point

C H A R A C T E R C O N C E P T P R O P O S A L

GOTHAM NOIR
1922

---

^{““Hell isn't having no choice. It's having to make a choice between horrific things.” -- Don Winslow}

^{_{♦ Alistair Gordon ♦ Colosimo Falcone ♦ Samuel Fox ♦ James Patrick Kane ♦}}

O R I G I N S:

---

It's 1922 and Prohibition is in full swing. As the Roaring Twenties begin to ramp up, Gotham City and its citizens find themselves in a battle for their souls.

Sergeant Alistair "Al" Gordon: GCPD patrol officer.
Colosimo "Charlie" Falcone: Low-level criminal muscle
Samuel Fox: Musician and Great War veteran.
James Patrick Kane: Politician and Gotham blue blood.

Four men whose lives will intersect, entangle, and come to define each other and the city they live in.

S A M P L E P O S T:

---

SAMPLE NOT IN CONTINUITY

Westside Gotham
1:28 AM

Bright lights looked down on pavement. Squad cards blocked off the public to the scene. Slam stood behind crime scene tape with all the others. Patrolmen directed traffic and kept civilians and reporters at bay. Geeks on the sidewalks peddled merch. They sold cheap Batman t-shirts, cheap Batman capes, chunks of rusty metal claimed to be genuine bullets used in the murder. Slam smoked with steady hands. A half-pint of Ripple on the drive over steadied him.

FEATURE: A dead body on the pavement. A blue tarp covered him. Crime scene techs and plainclothes officers converged on the scene. He saw Homicide dicks and IAD men in sharp suits. He saw Charlie Fields in a sharp suit. Charlie was Slam's last partner in Homicide. Charlie loved the Life; capital L, always with a capital L. Charlie loved being a cop and solving murders. Slam used to. Slam told boxing stories and shadowboxed for effect. Slam used to be all about the Life. The Life turned on him. The Life chewed him up. It was still chewing him. Spitting him back out: TBA.

A crime scene tech was coming out of the scene. Red hair with flecks of gray in them. He carried a camera around his neck. Slam locked eyes. Geppe said he was the one to see at the scene. He was one of their men inside the GCPD. Jim Corrigan was as dirty as the day was long. Slam remembered him going through three different IAD investigations and not a single one touched him. Corrigan was slicker than goose shit.

"Corrigan," he said as the man passed by. "GB sent me."

Corrigan got stiff. Corrigan looked around to make sure the coast was clear.

"Slam fucking Bradley," Corrigan said softly. "Of all the people to send. Fuck... follow me."

Corrigan led Slam to his car. He bummed a cigarette off Slam and passed him back his camera. Slam thumbed through the pix on the digital camera. Crime scene pix showed a GCPD uniform face down on the pavement. Shots got in close on the back of the head. Two shots, two entry wounds. No pix of the front because it would be fucking pulp. Slam saw stippling around the wounds. The killer got in close before pulling the trigger.

"Who was he?"

"Perkins," said Corrigan. "Boss of a patrol squad out here in the Western. Name ring a bell?"

"Not particularly. But then again there's a lot of names I don't know anymore."

Slam scrolled through the pix faster. Shell casings near the body ruled out a revolver as the primary weapon. Entry wounds looked like either a 9 MM or .40 were used as the murder weapon. It probably didn't matter. If it was a pro job, the gun was already down a storm drain on the other side of town somewhere.

"What did you know about him, Corrigan?"

Corrigan shrugged. "A hump by anybody's standards. I remember IAD looking into him hard after some shit he pulled. He got caught shaking down hookers for blowjobs and trying to run a half-ass protection racket."

"And he was still here?" Slam asked.

"Must had one hell of a union rep."

Slam flicked his cigarette butt across the street and fumed. Slam got run out of the department for some petty bullshit, but this asshole got to stay GCPD until a shooter turned his brains into Swiss cheese? Only in this fucking city.

"Can you get your hands on Perkins' personnel jacket?" He asked, passing Corrigan's camera back to him.

Corrigan laughed.

"You are barking up the wrong tree there. No matter how much money I owe Geppe, I can't get into those files. Given my reputation, IAD would be all over me like a fly on shit if I got anywhere close to this thing. They probably don't like me even here taking pictures, man. I me--"

"You're right, Officer Corrigan."

Slam and Corrigan turned. A tall, thin black man in a three-piece stood close by. His head was shaved and he wore big, black frame glasses. Slam's face flushed and he balled his fists up.

"Mr. Bradley," he said with a grin. "It's been awhile."

"Go fuck yourself, Bock."

Bock had been IAD's point man in the investigation that ended Slam's career. Once upon a time, it had taken six full-grown men to pull Slam off Bock and to pry his big mitts off the thin man's windpipe.

Bock picked lint from his suit. "You're a civilian now, Bradley. I could have you arrested for making threats to a sworn police officer, but I'll settle for your swift departure from the scene. This is a GCPD matter." Bock flashed a smirk and raised an eyebrow. "Where were you tonight, say around midnight?"

"Ask your mother." Slam grabbed his crotch. "She's my fucking alibi. Literally."

Bock's grin disappeared. He played with a phi beta kappa chain attached to his waistcoat.

"Get the fuck out of here, Bradley, before I get the patrolmen to toss you out. And Officer Corrigan? Get back to fucking work."

Bock turned around and headed back to the crime scene. Slam flipped him off. Corrigan stubbed out his cigarette and shrugged at Slam. He followed Bock back to the scene. Slam shook his head. He'd call Corrigan tomorrow and try to glom a copy of the initial crime scene report from the police lab and Homicide. That was all he could do on that front. All the knew was what he told Geppe an hour ago. A murderer had killed Sergeant Perkins.

Slam lit up a fresh cigarette and beat tracks back to his car. He thought about Corrigan's words earlier. Perkins shook down hookers for BJs. If he was involved in the flesh market, then the hookers would know all about him. On the westside, when it came to pimps and johns and marks, there was one man Slam knew he could talk to: Bruce Vain.

P O S T C A T A L O G:

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Territory Daze: A Pro-Wrestling Promotion RPG

Stone Cold, if ole Andy is approved go ahead and hit Eric Bischoff with a stunner.



HELL YEAH!

Approved.