Roman

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

THANK YOU! I'm glad I've gotten the opportunity to write the Dark Knight this go around, and I'm more engaged than I've been with writing in a long time, so you can expect more!

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Yaaaaaaay, Batman 5. Praise be to consistency! My secret is not caring if it's good or not and only caring if it's done or not.

I've also updated my sheet in the Character's tab - linking all my posts thus far, as I'm not doing any of that fancy 'previous' 'next' etc etc stuff some of you posh toffs are up to, plus making it less egregious to scroll past and adding the previously shared timeline to the sheet for quick reference.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

T H E B A T M A N
T H E B A T M A N

At least two ribs cracked. Shoulder dislocated. Body slick with sweat beneath the armour, and still coughing up smoke. A wave of exhaustion hit the Batman, and he stumbled slightly, loose arm still swinging raggedly as he clutched his injured shoulder. Carefully, he released it to press a finger to his ear, and activated the radio in his cowl’s horn. It chirruped, and then the line was opened directly to the Batcave.
“Alfred…need med table prepped. Sling for arm, and set two-“ Batman groaned as something in his chest creaked, “-three ribs.”
“Understood, Master Bruce. Your heroics have made quite the stir on social media. One cellphone video has already been posted to Tweeter and is making quite the splash.”
“I don’t do it to get Trending, Alfred.” Batman replied, his patience three-ribs-and-a-shoulder thinner than usual.
“Quite right sir. We shall expect you back at the manor shortly?” There was a tinge of something akin to hope in the butler’s voice. “…Master Todd rather misses you, sir. It’s been days…”
Batman paused, casting his mind to his ward. Jason was a good kid and a better soldier, but there was still work to be done to ensure he understood the mission and its parameters, and he didn’t spend as much time as he should with the boy. Dick had been so independent. Jason needed a father, but raising a child was not the battle Bruce has spent years training for.

He looked upwards to the sky, staring at the batsignal that cut a wound across the cloudy night sky, and clenched his jaw as he finally approached the Batmobile. He rested his limp arm against the brick wall of a building, and then, with a precise, quick movement, shoved his own body weight against his shoulder. He grunted as a hard pop burst forth, and then stepped back, rolling his now-relocated shoulder. It hurt, mobility would be impacted, and he’d be sore for at least a couple days - but he could move it, and that was enough.
“Sir?”
“Not yet Alfred. I’m still needed.”

-

GCPD Lieutenant James Gordon paced up and down, his steps kicking up dust. The construction framework surrounding him was, at one time, intended to become a new block of affordable flats, but had at some point been purchased by one of Falcone’s shell-corps before that dream had materialised. Falcone likely had his own ambitions for the development, but these had been dashed when he’d been arrested, and then incarcerated, and the land officially became city property. Of course, the city did nothing with it, various councillors and Gotham public officials debating the best use for it, all the while ignoring its initial purpose; and so it stood derelict, a skeleton of homes, nothing but concrete and rebar and wire, eighteen storeys high and the city’s pollution blackening every surface. Two years ago, Batman had installed the signal, after the success against Falcone and Maroni cemented his partnership with Jim. That very first night, it lit the sky in silent celebration. Every time since, it had been an omen.

Batman stepped silently from behind the metal barrel of the light, and Jim found himself startled when he reached the end of his pace, swivelled on the spot, and suddenly found he was no longer alone. He moved forward to shut the light off, but Batman stopped him.
“Leave it on. Remind them I’m out there. Sometimes, that’s enough.”
Jim didn’t protest, merely shrugged, and then lit a cigarette. Batman stood, silent and stoic, as he took a long drag and blew the smoke out into the night air before he began to explain why he had called.

“Breakout at Arkham. Your oldest friend.”
If Batman had a reaction to the news, Jim couldn’t see it.
“How many dead?” He asked. More to the tally. He didn’t know why he kept count.
“Two, so far. Ha, his cleanest yet.”
“More will come.”
“Oh, undoubtedly. More always do before we stop him. Always playing catch up…”
Batman declined to make comment. Jim still wasn’t looking at him.
“How?”
“It’s not his usual M.O., you know. Low body count. Minimal destruction. No one injured. We didn’t even find out until shift swap…”
Batman understood. “He didn’t break out. He was released. An accomplice? Someone paid off?”
“Thats the thing. All the inmates are being unusually forthcoming, and they all say the same thing: he was just as surprised as we are. This wasn’t his plan. It was someone else’s. And they walked past 30-something other inmates to get to his cell. They wanted him loose. No one else. And they left a message.”
Batman didn’t need to ask the obvious question; he merely took a single step forwards, beckoning the information from Jim.
“I think it’s best if you see it yourself.” He said, turning back around to flick his cigarette over the edge. “Before the station boys get in and contamina-“
Jim stopped mid-sentence as he turned, and Batman was gone. The light burned brightly, casting the bat into the sky.

-

Inmates jeered and hollered on all sides as Batman walked through the asylum corridor. Angry shouts followed him and Jim as they made their way into the deepest corner of Arkham, where Gotham's darkest nightmares were locked away and forgotten. Here, behind clear walls in sealed cells, dwelled the city's most damaged, and damaging, individuals, a cabal of men and women who, like Bruce, had experienced unimaginable trauma in their lives, tragedy they were unequipped to deal with. Like Bruce, they had been sharpened by it into something new. Unlike Bruce, their zeal, born of calamity, did not take the form of a protector.

The Joker's cell appeared before them, looming out of the darkness at the end of the corridor. Even from here, the open doorway into the room seemed impossibly askew. A single dirty bulb burned dimly within; Batman could see the splashes of red inside already. He pushed forward, ignoring the inmates that continued to heckle and deride the Dark Knight. His steps felt heavier the closer he got to the empty cell, resisting his commands to step further and further down the corridor. The room yawned open before him, dingy and ill-kept. Batman stood upon the threshold, willing himself to put that final foot through the doorway; a strange fear seized the back of his mind, that once he stepped in, the door would slam shut behind him, and the Batman would be locked away forever in the depths of the Asylum. He took a steeling breath and stepped forward. The door remained open. He breathed out.

Before him were two bodies - Arkham staff, the Security Lead and Head Orderly, Batman could see from their ID badges - slumped against the wall, leaning their heads against each other and arms arranged fondly on one another's shoulders. Their faces had been carved up, ghastly smiles torn into their cheeks and eyes ripped from their sockets; yet despite the gruesome handiwork there was minimal blood splatter within the cell itself. Upon the wall was daubed:
"TWO FOR JOY"
In the breast pockets of each of the victims there had been placed a single black-and-white feather. Batman plucked one from the sticky-red of their shirts and examined it closely, shining a torch along its length. Was it a match to the feather debris found in the boy's neck? Or to the bird that he had encountered upon the rooftops in Crime Alley? The feather flashed a monochrome sheen in the harsh white beam of Batman's flashlight. A common Black-Billed Magpie, indisputably. It made sense, with the rhyme, that now spooled out in Bruce's mind with the second line presented so macabre before him. Unconsciously, he ran the numbers, summing up the total body count threatened by this killer.

"28..." he mused, stepping out of the cell as he secreted away the feather for cross-reference testing at the cave. He wasn't expecting a reply.
"91." It came anyway, off to the side, its quiet solemnness making it stand out among the crass heckling of the cruder inmates. From behind a thick transparent wall, in a cell not unlike that which Batman had just left, crouched a man of short stature and thin, sandy-blonde hair. His eyes darted around rapidly, focusing on sights unseen by the common eye.

Batman stood before Jervis Tetch's cell, examining the hunched-over criminal. Psychology doctorate, hobbyist hypnotist, ephebophilic rapist. The man was mentally ill, his condition only worsening in Arkham's unholy halls, but Batman held little pity for the wretched man.
"Seven for a secret." Batman said; it was the final line of the rhyme. "28."
"Nonono..." Jervis replied, absently, only ever half-there. "Eight for a wish, Nine for a kiss..." he straightened as he recited the poem, his emaciated frame stretching uncomfortably beneath the thin Arkham inmate uniform. "Ten for a surprise you should not miss. Eleven for health, Twelve for wealth..." Tetch approached Batman, standing straight but still a few feet from matching Bruce's stature, his eyes still darting about following some invisible trace.
"That's 78."
"Thirteen beware the Devil himself." Jervis concluded. "91."
"Did you see who released Joker, Tetch?"
"Wishes be horses, beggars will ride."
"Are they working alone?"
"Turnips be watches, wear one by my side..." Jervis turned away, hunching back over as he crouched in the corner. "If's and An's be pots and pan, tinker never works."
"Jervis! Answer me!"
"Snicker-snack, she left them dead. With their heads, galumphing back."
Batman stood silent. Since his incarceration, this is how Jervis Tetch, Gotham University PhD, communicated. Garbled nursery rhymes and nonsense. He was wasting time.
"Miss Polly had a dolly, sick-sick-sick, call for the doctor, quick-quick-quick." Jervis mumbled, his hands twisting against the floor, tracing doodles in the dust. "Wednesday's child, full of woe..."
Batman walked away, frustrated. Jervis mumbled his rhymes until he could no longer hear the boots on Arkham stone.
"Jack Sprat could eat no fat, Joan could eat no lean, and so between them both you see...they wipe this city clean..."

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Oh that's tomorrow? Nice, goodbye productivity.

<Snipped quote by Martian>

What do you guys use to type your posts down onto? The postbox here is pretty alright, catches the easy grammar typos anyways.

@Alternax

I just PM myself. If I feel I need to grammar/spellcheck I copy/paste into Word. Even then the Guild is pretty good at picking up spelling, though it won't pick up typos or weird syntax like Word will.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

<Snipped quote by Martian>

The number one editing trick to catch these sorts of things is to verbally read your post out loud. When reading in your head, your brain autocorrects things without you realizing and you're bound to miss mistakes. Reading out loud allows you to hear each word and syllable so you can notice when something doesn't sound correct, and then can fix it accordingly. I can confidently say that doing that will catch 99% of all errors made during the writing process.

@Retired

I hate doing this, but jesus christ it works. Such a revolutionary tip.

Roman's Scrapbin

sonic uses the master emerald to travel back in time to prevent robotnik from rising and stop the war on Mobius by eggman's robotic army. unfortunately his attempt, while appearing successful, actually inspires robotnik's most dangerous and powerful design to date, which he spends years perfecting: Metal Sonic.

When sonic returns to 'his time', Mobius isn't at war with Robotnik; it's been conquered by him through Metal Sonic's power, and Sonic's friends have been enslaved as forcibly-converted robots.

Even worse, in the new timeline, the Master Emerald doesn't exist - Metal Sonic shattered it once Robotnik's rule had been established, as he recognised it was the only legitimate threat to their reign. Knuckles, the last Echidna, is less than pleased about this, and blames Sonic (as a Guardian of the Master Emerald, he is immune to having his memory re-written, because of plot devices).

The Chaos Emeralds themselves have been scattered, some picked up by thieves and bounty-hunters - outlaws, un-roboticised but not against Robotnik's rule, just making the best of a bad situation - others guarded by lieutenants of Robotnik's army. They need to be collected to undo what Sonic's foolish meddling in the timestream has done, but that won't be easy, especially with Robotnik and Metal Sonic hot on his heels...

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

Wheeeeeeee new Batman means even more villains brought to the table hehehe

@Bounce I wanted to express my admiration for your Jason posts in particular for how well they offset what my Batman posts lack, i.e. the actual day-to-day life of Bruce and Alfred. Where my Batman is 'the vigilante' and indulges in the theatre of the Dark Knight, I adore how well your Jason posts balance Jason's activity as Robin and his reality of being an adopted boy in school with caretakers he remains at-odds with. You accomplish what I cannot and it makes me happy.
It makes me, writing Batman, feel like I'm actively neglecting Jason, my ward, which just serves to fuel the character writing further. Love it.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

T H E B A T M A N
T H E B A T M A N

Batwave alert on my gauntlet. Fire in the Narrows. It's a large blaze, threatening to grow out of control. I can already see it, the smoke billowing up over the rooftops. The horizon glows orange from the inferno. By the time the Batwave makes an anonymous call to GCFD, I'm already mid-air, sailing over Gotham's skyline.

Boots make a heavy crunch on debris as Batman hits the ground. Fragments of glass and splintered wood litter the ground from where fire has burst from window frames. Thermal display through the cowl is useless - the entire building lights up in a brilliant orange, one solid block of overwhelming inferno; Batman can feel it already, stood outside while the blaze burns within, an oppressive heat pushing on his skin. The suit’s plating will protect him from burns, but clad in his armour he runs a serious risk of heatstroke. There’s no time to think of that, though - there’s innocent people, a mother and her children, trapped inside, and they will die if he fails.

The Batman cannot fail.

The first and second floor have been consumed by the flames - only the third remains relatively unscathed, but every second the fire climbs higher as it feasts on the building. Batman pulls his grapnel from his belt and fires skyward, aiming for a third-floor window that still retains some structural integrity. The grapnel hook crashes through the glass pane and Batman heads a shriek from within - the mother. He reels the hook back and braces himself for when it latches, but the latch never comes; the fire has weakened the wood and the hook tears straight through, whipping back down the building into the launcher. A woman’s head looks through the shattered window pane and scans the street below; Batman can see the desperation in her face, hair matted to her forehead with sweat from both panic and the heat of the fire.

Batman swivels on the spot and launches his grapnel again, this time at the rooftop opposite the window. The grapnel finds purchase quickly, piercing into the brickwork, and the line pulls taut as the launcher rappels Batman upwards; he hits the wall with his legs curled and tight, muscles ready to spring - and spring they do, pushing him off the wall as he twists mid-air and opens his cape, unfurling gnarled black wings that carry him to the window before he pulls them in just as rapid and paths like a missile through what’s left of the glass.

There’s another shriek as Batman lands in the room and stands up, cloak draping around him and making something inhuman of the man beneath the armour. Low sobs ebb behind the roaring of the fire - the children in their mother’s arms, eyes streaking from the smoke and the fear - but then the cloak parts, and Batman kneels, extending a single hand and a kind eye, and suddenly a creature no more but a stalwart, noble man. A rescuer. A guardian.

The mother grabs her children’s hands fiercely as they reach out toward Batman, the younger brother no older than 8 at the most. They’ve both heard of him, stories on the playground, punching bad guys and flying across the city and driving around in his cool car; but the mother’s heard of him too, and her stories are far more violent than Saturday morning cartoons. Living in the Narrows, she has witnessed first hand what the man in front of them is capable of.

There’s little time to think of stories and rumours though, with the fire racing up towards their oh-so-temporary sanctuary, and Batman strides across the room and kicks open the door that had become too hot to touch with a single powerful blow. Looking down the hallway he sees the fire already advancing up the stairs, and knows that getting lower is not an option. So that only leaves one alternative. Batman turns back toward the mother, shrinking in her fear of this dark, violent crusader - but he crouches again, puts a hand on her shoulder, meets her gaze calmly with an open face, and says:
“What’s your name?”
Shakily, she replies: “M-Maria.”
Batman nods. “Maria, I need you to come with me.”
And she does.

They reach the roof quickly, and Maria takes big gulping breaths, drinking the cool night air. Her children are coughing and spluttering and still weeping, but every so often Batman looks at them and smiles or nods, and they smile or nod back, weakly, and quieten a little, partially soothed. Batman scans the rooftop, looking for an exit - and it presents itself quickly. On the south side of the building, across a small alleyway no more than a few feet wide, is a roach motel, and on the back wall of the motel is a fire escape. The metal landings and ladders stretch all the way to the ground, now some 4 storeys below. He points toward it.
“There. Jump the gap. Climb down. You’ll be safe.”
Maria can barely approach the edge.
“I’m afraid of heights.” She says, and Batman nods, putting that calming hand on her shoulder again.
“That’s okay. I’m afraid of bats.”
Maria nearly laughs, but a great cracking and groaning begins to emanate from below them, some eldritch yawning from deep within the building.
“The building’s coming down!” Batman shouts, his voice full of urgent authority. “We need to jump, now! Go! I’ll take the boys!”

Batman scoops up both children, one in each arm, and they cling to his armour tightly as he nods at Maria again before sprinting towards the edge of the rooftop. The boys bury their heads in his cape, screaming as the street opens up beneath them; but then they land, and the fire escape holds, and quickly Batman is ushering them down the ladders, instilling in the elder a sense of duty to lead them both to the ground.

Maria is still on the rooftop.
“I can’t do it!” She yells across the gap, and she is ready to crumple under the weight of her own terror. Her children are safe, and every maternal instinct is screaming that this is fine, this is enough, the important duty is done.
“I’ll catch you!” Batman yells back. Maria has maybe a few seconds to will herself into standing and making the leap before the building implodes in on itself. Slowly, shakily, she pulls herself to her feet, edging closer to the edge. Batman hangs from the metal, one arm extended out to catch her. Below them on the street, the two boys stood huddled together, watching their mother try and summon the bravery to leap. Eyes squeezed shut, Maria ran to the edge of the building and jumped...

...as the building completely collapsed, and the rooftop fell away beneath her. Eyes wide and aghast, a scream bellows from the depths of her throat as she begins to drop.

Batman launches himself from the fire escape immediately, body straight and tight, flying through the air toward Maria like a bullet; he catches up fast, scooping her up into his arms. The ground is coming up quick, quicker than he can do anything about; mid-air, he twists himself, putting himself between Maria and the concrete of the alleyway.

They land, hard, and Batman feels at least one rib crack under the weight of his armour and Maria on top of him, and as she rolls off, saved from the impact, his shoulder screams. But as he scrapes himself off the street, Maria, unharmed, embraces her two children, the family stained a faded grey from the smoke but otherwise...safe. Rescued. Alive.

Batman stands, clutching his ribcage with his free hand while his other arm dangles, shoulder dislocated. As the family embraces, quiet relieved sobs bubbling out from them, he silently walks away. By the time Maria looks back to thank him, he's already gone - but she has a new story to tell about the Batman, and the things he's capable of.

-

Garfield Lynns watched everything from the corner of the block, hidden in plain sight among the crowd that had gathered when the first signs of the blaze began making themselves known to the neighbourhood. He'd attempted to subtly sow seeds on the why of the fire, but it was mostly posturing; it was inconceivable that Black Mask didn't already have something planned to claim ownership of the arson attack, and it was unlikely that Lynns' failure to secure the deaths of the family would go unpunished. He wondered if it would be wise to run, to flee the city.

Hmmm. No. He wouldn't make it past city limits, and Black Mask hated cowards even more than failure.

Whispers of Batman began spreading through the people, admiration for his heroism, which only caused the singed Lynns to pale more. Positive propoganda for the Bat was definitely not what Sionis had hoped to achieve here tonight. As paramedics and firefighters finally arrived, Lynns slunk away from the crowd and hurried himself back to his room in a nearby hostel. As he went, he glanced upwards, and what he saw struck a new fear that had been ignited in him as swiftly as the fire he'd set: a spotlight, splashed across the sky, calling for the Bat.

Lynns knew judgement was on its way, inevitably metered out by Batman's or Black Mask's hand. Lynns wasn't sure which he dreaded more.

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

@Roman Pretty cool time line.

I'm a little sadge about that so I hope someone picks up Barbara Gordon if she's going to be in the RP as Batgirl. I guess I could just do it myself?

I'm also not sure what you mean by your suggestion- that her assassin name is already Black Bat? Or that's just what people call her at first when she pulls a Gordon and starts running around as an unaffiliated bat vigilante?

@Zoey Boey

Feel free to include Barbara in your posts! Just give me a heads up what you want to do with her first.

Yeah what Retired said basically, that as an assassin sent to Gotham her handle is already ‘Black Bat’, but after her first kill and her realisation, her arc becomes leaving ‘Black Bat’, the killer, behind, and transforming into ‘Batgirl’, the hero - naturally taking cues from the existing Bat-heroes in Gotham.

Just an idea, don’t feel like you have to implement it!

One Universe: Unlimited - A Marvel/DC Comics Roleplay

@Roman

Oh yeah? Who's the Batgirl who got her own solo comic run first? That's right, Cassandra! Maybe YOU'RE a part of MY legacy pool, huh???

Ok but seriously XD sure thing. I guess I'm just waiting for the OK before I start shooting PM's at people from broadside. IC I was thinking they could both be Batgirl. I mean if Cassandra puts a bat symbol on and is a girl, and makes no effort to brand herself in any way other than that, I doubt the ppl of Gotham are going to call her "Black Bat" or "Orphan" but maybe we could figure that out. (I just don't like her other two titles. Her most famous name is just her actual name, anyway, lmao.)

I'm doing things different this time and now she's not even a hero yet, let alone having the mantle of Batgirl. so I'm down to just go with the flow

@Zoey Boey

In fairness, unless someone picks her up as a player character, Barbara won't feature beyond one or two posts in the near-future, so while she's present, she won't be very active IC, so it will likely be OK - however, for what it's worth, I really like Cass' 'Black Bat' handle. Maybe that could be her title coming in as the assassin, and she works to rid herself of it and its connotations as part of her transformation into the new Batgirl?

Additionally, here's my proposed timeline I talked about earlier, for reference. GMs, Bat-fam players, let me know your thoughts!