Avatar of Master Bruce

Status

User has no status, yet

Bio

Very well, where do I begin?

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a fifteen year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet.

My father would womanize, he would drink. He would make outrageous claims like he invented the question mark. Sometimes he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy. The sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament.

My childhood was typical. Summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds - pretty standard, really. At the age of twelve, I received my first scribe. At the age of fourteen a Zoroastrian named Vilma ritualistically shaved my testicles.

There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum... it's breathtaking. I highly suggest you try it.

Most Recent Posts

After a conversation with Wraith.

If your character was chosen for a Lantern Ring (pretending all the various corps exist) what colour do you think they'd get? Based on their portrayal in this roleplay? Alternatively what colour of rings do you think other people would get.


At this stage in his career, UOU Bats would be a shoe-in for the Red Lanterns, even though his comic book counterpart attracted the Yellow, Green, and Black rings. Dude's got rage issues.

I think it's great that @Master Bruce is taking an unpopular leap and bringing Felicity Smoak into the RP ;)


...



As I said. Rage issues.


Gotham City, The Narrows
West District
2:20 AM


I must be out of my fucking mind.

With the hood up from the pullover from beneath her jacket obscuring her features, Jessica Jones felt a rush of anxiety push her ahead as she vaulted over a fence leading into the back alleyway of the neighborhood. She could hear a police copter in the distance, which was enough of a sign to bail out as it was, but the accompanying sounds of gunfire and broken bones meant that The Bat had already played his hand. Unless Jessica was ready to abandon all of her remaining moral principles and leave the area, resulting in both his risky effort wasted and an innocent young girl being left to fend for herself in the midst of this horror show, it was too late to back out now. Cursing herself under her breath, Jones ducked for cover as she ran from one house to the next, staying low to the ground and avoiding the radiance of the helicopter's spotlight as it danced between the cracks.

For a brief moment, she peeked around the corner of one of the houses to look at the scene ahead. And with as much fucked up shit that she had been subjected to in her life up to this point, she still could hardly believe what she was seeing. Not only had The Batman lived up to his end of the deal and gotten himself into an all-out fist fight with half of the GCPD in order to cover her approach to the Torres house, he was - to her astonishment - actually doing a fairly good job of holding his own. For as many that swarmed around him, it seemed as though double the number were quick to fall to his quick, brutal, and precise close range attacks. For a psychopath dressed up in a leather halloween costume, Jessica had to admit it to herself. The vigilante could teach her a thing or two about self-defense.

Just as the fight seemed to escalate and more members of SWAT seemed determined to bring Batman down, Jessica took that as her cue to move. So pushing herself off of the brick wall that she had been using for cover, she leaped high into the air and pushed herself even higher - a feat of which would've ordinarily gotten her caught immediately, given that she found herself on the roof of the next house within a span of seconds. Jessica couldn't quite control how well she flew - at least, not like the guy in the t-shirt and the red cape from that other city, and even he didn't seem to be that good at it - but she could do it well enough for short distances. The important thing was making sure that the helicopter didn't notice her - and they were so fixated on keeping an eye on The Bat, who seemed to be intentionally moving the fight away from the house she needed to get to, that it was becoming almost a non-issue.

"Guess crazy still has it's moments.", Jessica muttered under her breath. "Hope you don't get killed down there, Bats."

The truth was, Jessica really hadn't ever expected him to be real. Gotham had been a vastly different experience from New York in the three months since she had moved, so the city had still offered alot to her in terms of surprises. While the streets of New York tried to represent themselves as mainstream and inviting to tourists who didn't know any different, throwing out alot of flash and distractions to keep people from looking too closely at the city's seedier problems, Gotham practically wore it's destitution on it's sleeve like it were a damn badge of honor. Apart from the financial district, which lowlives like Jessica hardly ever found themselves in, the city was a dirty, rotting mess of muggers, street gangs, and corrupt politicians putting practiced smiles infront of the cameras to keep the commoners at bay. She knew all about the Five Families, the Royal Flush Gang, that awful Arkham Asylum, and even the supposed giant crocodile man that lived in the sewers. Those talking points among her clientele were easy enough to believe.

But one man waging a solitary war on crime? Dressed up like the lovechild between Dracula and The Gray Ghost, no less? Something about it had always seemed so absurd to her. She had a messed up past of her own, and costumes weren't exactly something that Jones was a stranger to ever since acquiring her abilities, but she wouldn't ever be caught dead trying to pick a fight with the mob or the police. Batman did both without hesitation, and he did it by scaring the living shit out of people. That meant that he was either an incredibly brave man and unwilling to let his sense of duty waiver in spite of the odds... or a complete and utter psychopath who probably really thought he was some kind of supernatural creature who couldn't be killed.

Either way, meeting him tonight had changed Jessica's perspective on how she could possibly hope to keep a low profile in a city like Gotham. If he could manage to survive the night and go back to being a boogeyman, a person of Jessica's capabilities wouldn't have any problems. As long as she kept breaking the arm of every mugger that whistled her way, or more commonly, tried to con her out of booze money. Infact, just knowing that there was someone out there able to toss criminals against the filth-ridden alleyways and do it in a cape and mask made it very clear to her that Gotham's scum hadn't nearly been everything that they had been talked up to be.

But this was all something to consider for later. Taking a running charge, Jessica propelled herself high into the air once again and landed on the next roof, immediately scurrying behind a chimney to avoid the helicopter's line of sight. The Torres house was just ahead, and all that she had to do was made it across the street without so much as a single person managing to spot her. Something that was easier said-than-done, given that not only had the police swarmed the area below, but there were panicked pedestrians trying to get as far away from the chaos as possible. People were leaving their own homes in droves and speeding off into the night, hoping to avoid the barrage of bullets and explosions that the GCPD's little skirmish with Bat-for-brains had already produced.

Spotting an alleyway below her, Jessica dropped down and hit the pavement with her knee outstretched, creating a spiderweb crack in the concrete. It was dark enough in the alley for her to have pulled that off, and definitely dark enough for her to sneak out of. Pulling her hood down as she placed her hands into her jacket, she took a deep breath and proceeded forward - before stopping dead in her tracks. Closing her eyes and slapping her palm against her forehead, Jessica realized that there was one crucial detail that she had failed to consider.

"Goddammit.", she angrily whispered. "C'mon, Jess. What are you thinking?"

Even though she hadn't quite been aware of her actions while under the influence of that Poison Ivy bitch, if what Batman had told her was even slightly true, there was a good chance that even if she did reach Zoe Lawton, the girl would recognize her as the woman who'd attacked her mom and attempted to kill her. And the last thing that Jessica wanted to do was traumatize the poor girl even further.

"Fuck.", Jessica reiterated, looking at herself in the reflection of a puddle made by the rain. "What to do, what to do..."

A change in appearance was needed. But she didn't have the time or the manueverability to do so.

Unless...

Screw it. If it works for him, why shouldn't it work for me?

Removing her dark leather jacket and pullover, Jessica immediately went to work in tearing the item apart as quickly as possible, aided by her considerable strength. Underneath both items, she had been wearing a red New York Knicks t-shirt. The pullover itself was gray. And the jacket was a worn and faded black. Wrapping a piece of the ripped leather around her face so that her eyes and nose were cover, Jessica immediately reached up and began to rip out a pair of eyeholes.

Was this plan ridiculous? Perhaps so. Almost definitely, infact. But for the standard that Gotham had already set for her, Jessica was beginning to doubt that this was any more out of place than anything else.

"So..."

Looking back down at her reflection again, now adorned with a leather 'mask', Jessica tilted her head and furrowed her brow. She already looked like a jackass, but it was better than nothing. Though now she'd have to spring for the cash to buy herself a new jacket.

"I guess this is a thing that's happening."

Gotham City, East End
The Streets
2:25 AM


"All units, be advised. Suspect is on the move and heading into Dini Plaza. You are now clear to engage. Repeat, lethal force has been authorized."

"Copy that!", I hear over the GCPD police scanner. "We are in pursuit, requesting backup!"



Despite being aware that this is cutting it close, I keep focus on the road ahead as the engine evolves from a low hum and turns into an almost animalistic roar that echoes throughout the streets. Gotham becomes little more than a blur of lights and motion as I kick The Batcycle's thrusters into action and propel myself further, accelerating me ahead and placing my trajectory well over 110 miles per hour. Directing myself to the left, I begin to weave in and out of oncoming traffic at a breakneck pace, putting some distance between myself and the pursuing squad cars that gave chase just after I left The Narrows. Through only the fault of my own, the GCPD has been made even more desperate to capture me before the night is through. I attacked those officers too viciously. Assaulted a Police Captain, a Lieutenant, a Sergeant, and SWAT before running. Even if they didn't already believe that I tried to kill Harvey Dent, as far as the police are concerned, I just outed myself as the most dangerous man in the city. And given how close I was to losing control of my actions back there, I'm beginning to wonder if there's any validity to that.

I hallucinated again. Despite Leslie's best intentions to help me move past these episodes, this was the first time that I ever experienced visualizing my parents while in the field. In the past, I've often quelled Alfred's growing concern over my mental stability by explaining that being Batman is a form of a therapy on it's own. By allowing myself to gradually release pent up frustration and rage against the city's criminals, I even managed to fool myself into thinking that I was on the road to rehabilitation. Tonight's clearly changed all of that. If I can't rely on myself to stay level-headed in high risk situations, then I'm going to have to make changes to how I approach my mission entirely. Perhaps starting with examining, with as little prejudice as possible, whether or not I've taken this crusade entirely too far. After all, I wanted to clean up the streets. Not compound the chaos through my mere existence.

"You're gonna want to take a right between Yale and Ostrander Avenue. They're already setting up a barricade three blocks from where you're heading."

And then there's this. The new player in Gotham that, despite the odds, managed to intrude their way into my personal communications network and remotely pilot one of my own vehicles. I hadn't so much as heard of this "Oracle" before tonight, but the individual had somehow managed to hack their way into my private servers in order to intervene in my fight against the GCPD. I feel as though I should feel some measure of gratitude, but this development's only made me feel more on edge than I already was. I can't be for certain just how much they know, or how thoroughly they checked the data that keeps my technology connected to Waynetech, but this sort of breach could easily compromise my identity. Whether or not Oracle has learned anything is it's own complication, as I now need to put other safeguards in place to prevent this from occuring again.

"Who are you? How did you manage to hack into this channel?", I demand, angrily peeling onto the directed road. "And how are you tracking my movements?!"

There's a pause before an answer.

"Uuh... Google Maps."

I stare down with an annoyed glare at the screen that displays the individual's logo. There's a two-way camera installed in that sub-monitor, so there's a good chance that Oracle, whoever they are, saw my reaction to that response.

"Sorry. Bad joke. It's, uh, actually alot more complicated than that. Stark Industries put out a sort of real-time imaging app that they sold to the military for a cool sixty million bucks. It works off of drone technology, so I encoded that program onto the surveillance cameras installed aboard the patrol blimps that the police have hovering over Gotham. It does the job as well as can be expected."

Admittedly, a more clever answer than I anticipated. And something of a reassuring one, given that I was afraid that Ace had been hacked aswell. Unknown to the stranger that I'm communicating with, I've been manually having Ace scan my systems to check for the leak and potentially identify the source signal of this person's broadcast. So far, that's produced nothing. So not only is Oracle advanced in the field of computer engineering, they're more than capable of covering their tracks.

"Alright. Then answer my first question."

"I can't. Trust me, it's not for any reason that you're not already accustomed to justifying wearing a mask yourself, but I have to remain anonymous to do what I do. And what I'm trying to do right now is help you from getting caught, in case you haven't noticed."

I narrow my eyes.

"But why?"

Hearing the sirens in the distance, I kick it up to 120 and narrowly avoid a head-on collision with an oncoming cab, who makes their displeasure in that known whenever the horn of the car beeps loudly.

"Other than what I said about being a fan and believing in what you're doing? Because of something that's happened within the GCPD. It concerns Captain Gordon."

As I continue to drive, my attention is piqued at the mention of the Captain. That's oddly specific of a name to just casually throw out, but I suppose it's possible that he's simply one of the more well known officers of the force.

"See, a few nights ago, I managed to get ahold of video surveillance footage that I think someone on your end was trying to delete before it could be... deleted. It showed you fighting off some guy dressed in red and holding a sniper rifle. Which was super awesome, by the way."

I raise an eyebrow.

How old is this person?

"But regardless. I forwarded that video to Captain Gordon through an anonymous server so that he would know the truth about who tried to kill Harvey Dent. It obviously wasn't you, like the media was saying, and I figured that giving Gordon the evidence to prove it would be enough to exonerate you. But he didn't do... anything with it. Infact, at the press conference that announced you as the suspect in the shooting, he just stood by and let them accuse you. And that worries me."

Clearly not old enough to understand how this city works. I sigh to myself, realizing that this isn't a particularly shocking development. I had hoped that Gordon was on the side of virtue despite his willingness to go after me, since I naively believed that Precinct 27 was a possible exception among the list of precincts bought and paid for by Salvatore Maroni. But if this is the case, they're all the same. Gordon had his chance to tell the truth about my involvement in the shooting, or lack thereof, and he didn't take it. That makes him as corrupt as the rest.

"The police in Gotham aren't to be trusted. They lie, they take bribes, and act as enforcers for the mob. Gordon's actions align with that mentality, so I'm not terribly surprised."

Unexpectedly, the distorted voice takes on a tone of barely hidden defensiveness.

"No. I'm sorry, but that's where you're wrong. Gordon isn't like the rest. I... know him better than that. I've seen the merit of his character, and he's done nothing but prove that he believes in the letter of the law. If he's hiding something like this, it can only be because somebody else got to him first. And Gordon isn't easily corrupted, so it must have been someone with more political sway than even the Commissioner."

So there is a connection between "Oracle" and Gordon. My mind starts to race as to what that connection could be. Couldn't be a mole that he put in place to lower my defenses, given that I saw to it that he was taken out of commission just earlier. Not to mention that the GCPD do not possess the capabilities to hack into The Batcycle. So I'm guessing it's a personal connection. A fellow officer, maybe, who moonlights as a hacker.

"Talking to me about any of this isn't exactly without risk. Why so forthcoming?"

"Because I don't believe you're the monster that the papers make you out to be. And because, I'm hoping, that you'll repay me in helping you tonight by investigating just who got to Gordon in the first place. If his judgement's askew, you're gonna have an even harder time on the streets than you already had. He's the only reason that decent cops in Gotham even exist, at this point."

I'm not sure that I buy into the notion put forth that Captain Gordon holds that level of importance, or is some kind of beacon of morality to his fellow officers, since this is clearly coming from a biased perspective. But the theory that he's being manipulated is something to at least keep in mind, I'll admit, since I don't want to be left unaware of someone other than Maroni pulling strings within the department.

"You're gonna want to take a left now, by the way. Three blocks ahead and I can see that they're setting up a pretty, uh, massive blockade on the corner of 45th and Dozier."

Gripping the throttle of the vehicle, I disable the camera to make it known that I don't approve of this. While I do believe if Oracle's intervention hadn't happened that I would have done something terrible back there, this interference in a situation well beyond someone of their age has gone on long enough. Despite taking the given direction as it comes and slowing my acceleration down as The Batcycle displays an engine overheat warning, I manually begin to type in commands for Ace to abandon the scan and focus on locking the intruder out of my servers.

"I'll consider it. But I can't make promises. Now I want you to forget that you ever found this channel. If the police consider me dangerous, then that means that I am for as long as they have me in their crosshairs. Trying to help me will only endanger yourself. So if you truly believe in what I'm doing, keep your distance and leave this to people like me."

"But..."

"And for the record?"

As Ace finally shuts down the last of the remaining avenues that Oracle could have used to make their way onto the network, I hit the acceleration once again and activate the reserve supply of coolant fluid that was built into The Batcycle's tank. I've pushed the bike to nearly the absolute limit before, but this is a highly inopportune time to risk a full system shutdown. Especially if I'll need the speed to stay ahead of the cops.

"I don't need your help."

Before they can reply, Oracle's voice and logo disappear entirely from my telecommunications. That might have seemed cold, but given the age and maturity on display in their cadence, I had to shut Oracle down before they did something stupid and put us both on the path towards an arrest. Once I get back to The Cave, I'll resume Ace's trace of the digital thumbprint that they left whenever they hacked in and try to figure out who they are in my own time, to further dissuade any such actions in the future. I don't need a partner, and I sure as hell don't want one under the legal drinking age.

Having said that, I did just cut off my only real source of digital clairvoyance to use against the GCPD's tactics. Thinking of how Oracle explained their method of keeping track of the streets, I immediately open the secure channel to Alfred. Thankfully, I shouldn't have any eyes watching what I'm doing, at this point.

"Alfred. I'm being pursued by police. Gonna need you to do something unorthodox."

"Of course, lad. Because everything about what we do is so commonplace."

As I cross onto the next intersection and tear through the streets, I begin to relay the exact method of hacking into the GCPD patrol blimps that Oracle described, so that Alfred can set up a similar method for Ace to feed back to me.

A good idea is a good idea, after all.

Gotham City, The Narrows
West District
2:30 AM


Zoe Lawton hears someone tapping just outside of her bedroom window. Frightened by her initial ordeal and unsure of whether or not to make her way out of the closet, the young girl nevertheless peeks out from between the doors to see what could possibly be hitting her second story window, given that even she realizes how impossible that seems. To her shock, what she sees is the silhouette of a woman. Something's wrapped around her neck, appearing as though it's some sort of cape, and a dark mask covers the top of the woman's face. But what immediately catches Zoe's eye isn't what the woman is wearing, but how she's appearing - she's floating outside of the window.

All of the fear fades from the young girl's face as she opens the closet door and meekly walks over to the window to open it. The woman in the mask gives her a reassuring smile, just barely distracting her from the sounds of gunfire and other loud noises that had left Zoe too afraid to even move just a few moments earlier. Whenever the window is lifted, however, those noises seem to have partially stopped. Zoe looks down at the ground, first, to make sure that what she's seeing is real. And it is, as there's nothing holding the woman up.

"Hi. You must be Zoe."

"How're you doing that?", the child asks. "My mommy says that people can't really fly."

Jessica smirks to herself.

"Your mom's mostly right. But I'm not like alot of other people. C'mon, I'll show you how I do it. But only if you come with me."

The girl tenses up at that.

"N-No. I can't go. A bad woman just hurt mommy, and she needs me to protect her."

Jessica's heart sinks as she hears that, hoping that the mask hides enough of her face to conceal her own reaction.

She doesn't know which part bothers her most. The fact that the girl believes her to be a bad woman, or the fact that the girl thinks it's her job to protect her own mother. In alot of ways, Zoe reminds her of herself at that age. Full of fear but ready to put it aside for the sake of other people.

"You're very brave for thinking that, Zoe.", Jessica replies, leaning against the window. "And I know that I'm stranger, and you should never talk to strangers. But this is a special occasion, because I'm gonna let you in on a bit of a secret..."

Even as the words come out of her mouth, Jessica almost regrets saying them. It's very far removed from how she sees herself.

"I'm a superhero."

Zoe's eyes light up at that, as she takes another step forward.

"Really?"

"Really. And I'm here to get you to safety. This is no place for a girl your age."

As Jessica reaches out with her hand, Zoe seems hesitant, still.

"But... the bad woman. What if she comes back for mommy?"

Pausing, Jessica gently places a hand on the girl's hand.

"She won't. I took care of the bad woman. You'll never see her again."

Zoe looks back at the door, worried.

"You promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

Zoe looks back at Jessica and smiles.

"What's your superhero name?"

Jessica pauses again, unsure of what to say. She immediately thinks of Batman, and of all the other weirdos in costumes that seem to be popping up all over the world. The papers referred to The Bat as 'The Dark Knight' at one point, so Jessica thinks to herself: Why should he get all of the cool nicknames?

"Knightress."

Extending her hand again, Jessica smiles.

"I'm called Knightress. Now come with me and I promise, you'll get to see your mom again in a few days. She has to be taken to the hospital right now, but they're gonna fix her up. I'll make sure of it."

Giving it a moment of thought, Zoe finally reaches out and grabs Jessica's hand for herself.

Within a few moments, the two are airborne and flying away from the scene. It isn't an easy or particularly graceful exit, as Jessica tries to shield Zoe's eyes from the carnage below them as she takes off. But within minutes, the two escape to safety and head into Gotham proper.

And at the end of the day, Jessica thinks to herself, that's all that matters.


Gotham City, The Narrows
West District
2:15 AM




"KEEP YOUR GUNS TRAINED ON HIM BUT DO NOT ENGAGE! NOBODY FIRES WITHOUT MY ORDER, YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

I didn't have the luxury of time to think this through. The smoke and fire of the blast builds around me as at least two dozen members of GCPD SWAT encircle the area. There's a police helicopter with a spotlight trained right on my every move, flying it's way into view from across the Pier. Captain James Gordon of Gotham's Precinct 27 and his partner have loaded weapons trained on my head and chest, respectively. They're buying into my bluff, it seems, because no one's went in for the arrest yet. But it's only a matter of time before they realize that the only reason I blew up the factory was to distract them from something else - specifically, to buy Jessica Jones enough time to escape the area unseen, with the girl under her protection. The success of their escape relies entirely on the fact that I have to keep this entire Precinct in the thralls of misdirection. And in order to do that, I'm going to have to put up one hell of a fight.

Injured, outnumbered, and at a disadvantage. Odds that I'm far from unfamiliar with, but odds that don't tend to favor the bold all the same. And if there's one thing I've been accused of throughout my life, it's boldness. As it stands, I have no choice. Gotham's Police Department is infested with rats that take on the form of corrupt thugs and guns for hire looking to earn favor and a paycheck from Salvatore Maroni. I put a bullet in the mobster's knee just a few days ago, and I can already tell that some here want to dish out a bit of payback. I can't say this isn't their chance, but I'm definitely not giving it to them if I can help it.

I've avoided direct conflict with the GCPD in the past because I wanted to take the time to root out the bad from the good. Figure out which cops were on the take, and which were being kept silent through Maroni's enforcers. They're as much apart of the disease that ravages Gotham as the man who holds their leash, but as much as I despise the entire lot of them, I'd be remiss to not at least acknowledge the possibility that there are some genuinely good men and women that I'm going to have to fight my way through.

"You're under arrest! Put down your weapons and surrender! Get on your knees and put your hands behind your head!"

Might aswell not waste any time in doing it.

"No."

The first three are blinded whenever I throw my cape up through the flames, sending a small wave of fire hurtling their way. That distraction is nessescary for what I do next, because at the same time, I've produced several gas pellets that go flying directly for Gordon and his partner. Both men double over and immediately begin choking, giving me at least some leeway to move. I choose my next target with precision and remove a batarang from my belt, vaulting over his back as he prepares to fire his gun and tossing the weapon at another member of SWAT just as they prepare to do the same. The first misses his shot, the other has their gun knocked clean away. Taking the officer I just somersaulted over by the back of the collar of his vest into both hands, I toss his body into the air and slam him with my shoulder, directing him towards a group of five that advance on me.

Keep calm, Bruce. Focus on keeping yourself alive and distanced from the rest. Give yourself plenty of breathing room. You were trained to fight even larger crowds than this, and a concussion mixed with a few broken ribs isn't going to stop you. They want you to go down for trying to do the right thing. They want you to stop trying to help the disenfranchised of this city, just to keep the very long line of suffering and favoritism to men who kill, steal, rape, and intimidate their way to power. You're a soldier whose mission is to prevent that from ever happening again. And you know damn well why it can't. Three individuals, two shots, one survivor. Let that rattle through your brain as you keep going. Let it give you strength. Let it remind you of who you are.

"I've got the shot! I've got the shot! Move outta the way, dammit!"

The cocky SWAT leader steps forward in a measured pace with an automatic rifle as I begin to tear into his men. One gets an elbow bashed into the faceplace of their helmet, shattering it and giving me enough time to dodge the next one as he tries to subdue me with the hilt of his shotgun. He doesn't want to fire because he'll hit his partner, it's too close range. Their leader doesn't share the same concern, as I hear the gun click just seconds before it's too late. Grabbing one of my attackers and strong-arming him with one hand, I take the other and perform a hard roundhouse kick that sends him flying out of the way. Maneuvering so that the one in my grip is facing forward, blocking the SWAT leader's shot, I knee him in the back to send him to the ground and between us even further.

BLAM!

As he fires off one round, the buckshot grazes the side of the kevlar helmet protecting the officer and only manages to rip through parts of my cape as I dive forward. Throwing out another kick outwards to perform a sweep, I de-stabilize the man's footing and grab his weapon, using it to strike him across the face. I then bash him in the knee for good measure, causing him to cry out in pain as he crumples to the ground.

"Hrgh!"

A strike to the back of my head. Were it not for the cowl's protective lining, I'd have very likely dropped. Nevertheless, I find myself stumbling forward without any room to perform a counter attack. Allowing myself to fall, I push myself backwards and lean up into a momentum-based propulsion attack so that both of my boots end up smashing hard into the woman's stomach before she can take her shot. She goes flying into the side of one of the nearby vans, prompting another few of her fellow officers to try and swarm me before I can get back to my feet.

Trying to fight off the daze that threatens to come over me as the head trauma tries to worsen the concussion, I nevertheless pull out The Utility Gun with it's setting pre-switched to it's taser mode. Three lines connected to darts spring out of the barrel, jutting themselves into three officers. I pull the trigger and watch as they're each forced to the ground after their bodies are rendered numb and spastic by a combined 800 volts. The others left standing begin to file next to eachother in formation for a group shooting. At this point, they're not so much willing to arrest me as execute me. I immediately leap to my feet and pop off the spring-loaded blades of my gauntlets, slicing into their hands and forcing them to drop their weapons.

"Batman! Stand down! I repeat, stand down!"

One of Gordon's trusted officers, I believe her name is Montoya, rushes me with a loaded pistol. She shows considerably more restraint than her subordinates, not wanting to fire but making it clear that she will if she has to.

"We're not here to kill you, we just have to bring you in! Why are you provoking them?!"

"Because, Sergeant..."

Using her hesitation against her, I vault forward and leap up, sending a hard jab into her wrist. Her loaded hand goes flying in the opposite direction, giving me room to send a hard right hook across her face. She falls on her back and doesn't hesitate any longer, pointing the gun and pulling the trigger. But my momentary attack gave me just the room I needed to avoid it, instead hearing the grunt of another officer as Montoya's shot hits them squarely in the vest. Were they not protected, I'd have taken the bullet myself. Just because we're at odds doesn't mean that I'm a complete monster. I don't believe in collateral damage, so I'm not going to them kill eachother, even by accident.

"They provoked me a long time ago."

Throwing my leg backwards, I kick Montoya in the face hard enough to send her back to the ground, knocked completely unconscious. ACE is feeding me the vitals of every opponent I come up against, and according to the readout from my cowl, her threat status just went from red to yellow. Non-hostile. It's enough to make me breathe a sigh of relief, before another shot grazes my shoulder and knocks me back. I hit a wooden fence and shatter it, landing on the front lawn of some unwitting civilian who's likely hiding inside. I'd say it's a smart tactic, at this point. The area's getting too hot for anyone to go running.

"You..."

I hear the coughing of the one who shot me.

Gordon.

"Have the right... to remain... silent."

Narrowing my eyes, I toss out a batarang. He fires again, but not soon enough keep the batarang from piercing his hand and forcing him to drop his weapon aswell. The bullet pierces the ground beside me, just inches from my head. Angered, he rips the batarang out of his hand and ignores the pain of his bloodied palm, thrusting himself forward as I stand up to send a hard left hook across the exposed area of my chin. The impact is enough to knock me back down, though far from enough to knock me out. Gordon holds back a smile, standing over me with raised fists. I already know from records that he's recieved military training, so it wouldn't befit me to underestimate him.

"Been waiting six months to do that."

Rather than attempt another batarang, I push myself back up and immediately rush Gordon with a tackle that sends both of us through the other portion of the wooden fence. He hits the pavement, hard, and I strike him in the face with a closed fist. To be perfectly honest, Gordon is one of the few police in Gotham whose loyalties I have yet to understand. From the outside looking in, he seems to oppose the corruption that Maroni and the Five Families represent. His promotion to Captain of Precinct 27 was politically motivated, with few buying Commissioner Loeb's line that he felt Gordon was a hero. At the same time, this man has relentlessly led the hunt for me since I first struck out against the mob as The Batman. He wants me out of comission just as much as anyone else, if not more.

"Hope it was worth it."

I punch him again, this time in a methodical tilt, so that the damage isn't too serious. He's more winded than hurt, but isn't rendered out of action, either. Grabbing me by the throat, he uses his leg to toss me over him and send me crashing into the passenger side window of a parked car. Before I know what's hit me, he grabs me by the back of the head and slams my face against the hood. Forcing one of my arms against my back, he attempts the standard arrest. I grit my teeth, enraged. He actually is alot faster and much stronger than I initially gave him credit for, but he's not getting the satisfaction that he so desperately wants. Not tonight, and not while I'm still breathing.

"Stop this! You're going down for this insanity sooner or later, goddamn you!"

"Maybe you're right."

Ripping myself from his grip, I push myself off of the car and slam into him with the reinforced kevlar plate attached to the back of my head. Then, with a one hundred and eight degree spin, I go in for a more direct punch to Gordon's face and give it every ounce of strength that I have. The sickening crunch of his nose can be heard as blood flies from his nostrils.

"But I'm not stopping now. Not for you."

He's sent falling back to the ground, his glasses falling off of his head as he clutches his face. I drive a hard stomp into his forehead and knock him unconscious aswell, through bluntly forcing his skull against the concrete. ACE tells me that he's fine, but it's enough to give me pause. Any harder than that and I would've given him alot worse than a concussion. Got to keep that in mind. I'm losing control of the punishment I dish out. And if I don't reel it in soon, things are only going to get alot more violent. The shine of a flashlight interrupts my field of vision, prompting me to rely on instinct for the next attack.

"Over here! Charlie, clear the line of fire! He's taken out the Captain! I repeat, he's---"



What happens over the next few moments is a bit of a blur. I can't consciously recollect it or even stop myself from attacking. But by the time I've regained clarity of my senses, I'm in the middle of a fist fight between three plainclothes officers, two SWAT, and Gordon's Lieutenant, all of whom are trying desperately to wrestle me to the ground. I remain firm in my stance, pushing back against them, throwing out haymakers, uppercuts, and jabs to the throat wherever I can. Some of them fall back or fall down. Others fight even harder. A few nail me across the face, some get me in the chest.

The concussion's taking it's toll. Only possible explanation for why I'm losing track of things. My mind reels as I act completely on instinct, going in to break a few arms and kick the legs out from other officers in a sea of uniformed bodies that threatens to overwhelm me. And all that I can do is hope that Jones made it to Zoe Lawton and got her out of here in time. I'd check to make sure, but there's no possible way to divide my attention from the police. The minute I do, I'm done. So I keep fighting. A primal yell even erupts from the pit of my chest, at one point.

And in the distance, I see...

My mother and father. Their faces replacing that of the officers looking to take me down.

Normally I'd recoil in horror. Double back and try to get myself into a clearer headspace. Try and isolate this grotesque hallucination brought about by the years of trauma that I've lived with. But right now, I'm in the middle of a vicious battle that could mean my freedom or even my life. These men have tried to kill me, and they represent everything wrong with this city. The truth is, for the first time since I was eight years old...

I don't give a damn about what my parents would've thought of this.

Finally breaking through the crowd of officers that now line the streets around me, each falling after another increasingly vicious blow, with either a broken bone or fractured jawline to show for it, I see the oncoming officers as they raise their weapons to me. The perverse nature of each of them looking as though they're a collection of my mother and father, each holding a gun out to shoot me down, is far from lost on me. It only fuels my rage even further as the helicopter's spotlight hits me.

"COME ON! IS THAT ALL YOU'VE GOT?!"

I'm prepared to take their gunfire. The armor should hold for at least a few rounds, as long as I keep my face protected. But by the time they go to pull the triggers, a very unexpected sound begins to verbreate throughout the area. The sound of the police barricades being smashed and various officers fleeing in terror.

In their confusion, the officers ahead fail to notice as a foreign light source closes in on them from the rear, with a familiar engine revving to life. An unmanned vehicle, which power slides and slams into some of them. My eyes go wide as I immediately recognize it.

It's... The Batcycle?

I stare ahead, confused as my own vehicle makes it's way to me and stops a mere few inches from where I stand. On it's own, through some type of automatic control. This shouldn't be possible.

"Ace?", I ask aloud. "I didn't authorize that."

To my surprise, The Batcycle then responds to me.

And not in any way that Lucius Fox would have programmed.

"I'm sorry, I... don't know who Ace is. But you're in trouble and very clearly need the help. I figured this would be a better sell to you than offering a ride in a hacked Lexus, or something."

The voice is distorted, electronically manipulated to hide the individual's identity. I only start to question it as I climb atop the Batcycle and attempt to take control of it myself, which to my relief, is something that's relinquished back to me willingly the second that I've assumed position. Though, I notice a curious symbol has appeared on the dashboard screen in the place of my usual HUD.

Someone's hacked into private my server. Even more impossibly, or perhaps even impressively, they've initiated an auto-pilot function within The Batcycle that I wasn't even aware existed. Both facts of which give me an immediate and considerable cause for concern. My server and the connections that keep The Batcycle linked to the Waynetech satellites are supposed to be invulnerable to cyber-attacks and outside intervention. It's how they were encypted from the start.

Who in the hell could be capable of bypassing the system?

"Whoever you are..."

"We can exhange pleasantries another time. Let's just say that I'm something of a fan. And I'm one of the few to recognize that Gotham needs you."



"You can call me Oracle. Now for the love of God, drive."
I've read everything up to Lord Wraith's most recent Thor today and that's only because I had to post in C-a-H today which I GM.

YOU BASTARDS EAT UP MY LIFE!


Your poor wife, child, and dog.

They come in second to a bunch of online nerds.

As it should be.
Okay, just to make sure that I get this straight:

Should the next MME be voted yes for the end of this season, none on the fence due to their own personal capabilities of entering the fray would be opposed? Because that sounds like what I'm hearing, which means that so far, the vote is overwhelmingly in favor of it.

I'll keep the option open for the next couple of days. Friday, I think, I'll announce what's gonna happen. Just trying to get it straight so that none leave this season feeling embittered or slighted or anything.
It's not even a formal vote, really. Just presenting a case for the other side of the issue. I'm not seriously going to sit here and tell the other kids, "No, you can't play in the sandlot!" just because I'm still at home tying up my laces.

Besides, honestly: what's the point in voting? You just abstain, then complain about the horrible things happening that you could have helped prevent. Duh. #millenials


And then some Russian hackers come in and just rig the thing, anyway.
Разве это не так, Владимир?
Well, it's not so much that I worry I'd drag down the interaction. It's more that at the rate I'm working through my first arc: Thanos will have assembled the Infinity Gauntlet, Galactus will be chomping on Antarctica, Darkseid will be using his Omega Beams to kill the President, and Superboy-Prime will have punched reality again... before Cap and his team have even set boots down in Qurac.


#CapWorldProblems

But your vote is noted.
My plan is that Team 7 will certainly be involved in the next MME, but with my current rate of posting... I don't know how feasible that will be. Now, that's the selfish reason I say to hold off until Season 2.

But from a thematic standpoint, it might make sense -- given the condensed seasons -- to spread out the events, anyway; whereas before the events were like a bookend, tying a longer season together, now they could serve as more of a through-line tying separate seasons together. Also, bear in mind that the very conceit of this game is that our characters are ostensibly very new to this superhero-ing business, and dropping a ton of shit in their lap all at once might be a bit much. It might be like having the Avengers fight Thanos in the first movie, rather than the third.

Just to devil's advocate a bit, as the general response has been neutral/leaning towards Season 1. (And, seriously... my ass would have to get moving.)


Are you sure that being involved in something where you'd have to bounce off of other people rather than stick to solo posts wouldn't bump up your activity more, though? Sometimes, I've found that it helps with me to just write in-character replies if I'm in a big solo rut.

And as far as dropping things in anyone's laps goes, don't worry... none of you will be overwhelmed by what I've got in store. If anything, it's specifically tailored to the fact that each hero is new and is only just coming up on the first major threat. The Surfer fight, by comparison, was more extreme of a threat than the second MME due to The Silver Surfer's general power levels. That was some shit that was a job for Superman.

(And The Flash, I guess. If you wanna give Sep that much credit.)
The biggest issue I see with starting an IC with an MME is that it does open up the dreaded 'Robinson Park' scenario. Especially since we'll likely have an influx of new players to expand the roster or replace some of those we've lost along the way. An easy way to establish oneself is to contribute to an MME and a lot of roleplayers do desire interaction over the more sandbox approach.

For that reason, an MME as a kickoff in the IC could lead to overcrowding which would bottleneck progress potentially.

Or it could go really well and start things in a really exciting manner.

I think though if we were to have an MME at the start of the next IC, I'd prefer it about 50 posts in or so.


Maybe if people were prepared for some shit to go down, OOC, it'd reduce the influx of people wanting to leap in?

Though I will say that unlike the Robinson Park scenario, the next MME is specifically designed to get alot of different heroes into action. It's gonna encourage anyone who wants to take part to be able to do it within reason, given it's not gonna be restricted to one area like the first Surfer encounter was.
Who hasn't..?


Says the dude playing the character second only to Hawkman that deals heavily in reincarnation.

Coming from the dude playing the character who was reincarnated as himself throughout time because Grant Morrison's a weird fuckin' dude.
© 2007-2024
BBCode Cheatsheet