Forums » General Roleplay » Summer Soiree: Law-Enforcers Lounge Bar (Open)

If there was one thing to be said about working as a vigilante, superhero, or law-enforcer of any kind, it was that peace and quiet tended to be a relatively fleeting matter. There always seemed to be some trouble that needed solving, somebody to save, some supervillain or evildoer or natural catastrophe to thwart.

Tiring? You could say that again. And again.

Devoted as he was to his cause, Titanio had long come to appreciate those blessed minutes where he could take a break from patrols, man-hunts and assembling new gizmos for his line of work. Coffee and cigarette were the closest thing to friends he had (besides Gilbert, of course). And if his crime-fighting, night-prowling experience had taught him anything, the same was probably true for many other vigilantes as well. Granted, some mighr prefer to indulge other activities in their "off" hours - gardening, cross-words, sports, maybe even collecting toy trains - but at the end of the day they were all tired people wbo hardly ever had a moment's rest, and who cherished that precious moment's rest whenever it was up for grabs.

Musing over all this eventually gave Luc the idea for a little retreat they could all partake in; the less posh version of a cocktail party, essentially, with various kinds of refreshments and the ease of mind to just relax, chill, and perhaps mingle with fellow... allies? Coworkers? Heck, how'd you ever call a get-together of vigilantes?

He wasn't sure how many would be able to attend, if at all. Certainly they wouldn't show all at once like in those _dreadful_ police corps parties he had attended once or twice on his former chief inspector's insistence. No, Luc had taken into account that throughout the time of this little "event", everyone could crash in or leave at any moment's notice. The location was a no-brainer - the factory that he had converted in his personal hideway had lots of unoccupied rooms and floors. But to keep his guests from getting lost in what could turn into a maze od abandoned machinery and cobwebs-strewn corridors, his pick fell on the main entrance hall, easily accessible and spacious.

Cleaning up took the best part of two weekend, and struck down poor Gilbert with a nasty dust-allergy. But all in all, Titanio thought they had done a good enough work. Entering the factory now, the guests would find themselves in an open space with some refreshments on a series of long tables, mostly coffee, but he had included some non-caffeine drinks, and even a few alcohol bottles from the nearest superstore that he hoped were at least decent. He had refurbished some armchairs from various junkyards, a bookshelf with some newspapers, magazines and books; on the opposite side was a bullseye with some fletchettes for those who might like to practice their aim, and a gaming console for those who'd prefer to just chill with videogames instead. A still-somewhat-functional stereo system had been revamped by Luc during an afternoon of tinkering, and was now integrated in a shuffling mechanism similar to old-time juke-boxes, with a flat holoscreen from which the various music tracks could be selected at will. He had done his best to include a varied selection of genres, even if some weren't really up his alley... but then again, he couldn't expect everyone to like jazz either. The ambience light shifted smoothly through rainbow hues, toned to just the right brightness and contrast to pleasingly blend with the background without straining the eyes. With some of his savings he had even set up a little banquet, nothing too fancy, but with various morsels both salty and sweet - sandwiches, pies, muffins, dried fruit.

Now came the difficult part; getting the word out. Let's admit it - most vigilantes weren't keen about having their job on the nameplate of their house, or on the yellow pages. Secret identities were secret for a reason, and it made delivering an invitation all the more troublesome.

Titanio had started with those other crime-fighters he knew by name or sight; he waited to find them out and about on patrol and told them of his plans, asking to pass the word to anyone else "in the biz" that they might know about. Others he had sought down through newspaper clippings and news reports while traveling the Multiverse; he'd read enough to get a clear idea of what their "hunting groiunds" might be and left little notes that he hoped would be found. In some worlds, he had no other option than to recur to blogs and newspapers, leaving an invitation cryptic enough that non-vigilantes would just take for some AI-spawned spambot, but that might hopefully spark interest among his fellow crime-fighters.

It had taken time and effort, as well as some of his residual sleep hours and an ungodly amount of cigarettes more than what he usually smoked (his lungs would not thank him; but at least during the event he had set out to not get the packet out - not unless his guests were also smoking. He wouldn't impose his bad habit on others). But now, finally, everything was ready and as his gaze swept over the welcoming hall, Titanio allowed himself to think that it had been a good idea, after all.

Just then, his communicator beeped with an incoming text. Lighr Raygun - yes, familiar name, she must be the fox-masked one, he had invited her in-person during a patrol - had texted to say she had finally got her children to watch TV and would be on the way soon. Titanio didn't even have the time to send a thumb-up emoji that the ambience light system he had crafted so patiently suddenly fizzed, cracked, and died on him with a loud CRACK. The hall momentarily fell into pitch-darkness.

"... for real?" he groaned, activating the back thrusters on his light powersuit and beelining toward the ceiling. Burned wires - what was with that woman and electricity??

---

Aaaand here we are! Welcome all to my lil attempt at this year's Summer Soiree! Like the intro says, every vigilante, superhero, law-enforcer or crime-hunter is welcome to stop by, chill, and maybe make some new friends! But since it's a hectic life for these sort of OCs, they also have the perfect opportunity to take their leave at any moment.

There's a few rules. Please read them carefully; the goal is making this RP fun for everyone.

So, without further ado...

THE RULES

1 - Multiple characters allowed: you CAN have more than one of your OCs attending. However, be considerate of other people's posts too; don't machine-gun posts with just your own characters replying to each other, try to give everyone (or at least the other OCs you're interacting with) time to reply before posting again.

2 - This RP is for vigilantes only. Your OCs can be "traditional" superheroes, or any other sort of crime-fighter, but don't bring in dogsitters or librarians or mailmen - unless, of course, that's a secret identity behind which a crime-fighter lurks!

3 - No Powerplaying or Godmodding. Yes, I know it's VERY difficult to not OP characters when it comes to superheroes, but if the most famous comic book/movie authors have been able to write characters with superhuman ablities who are still relatable, you surely can do so too.

4 - Crossovers/AU Friendly; you want to throw in your OC from another world? By all means - Multiverse is a thing. You play a superhero / vigilante from some existing franchise / movie / book? Bring them in!

5 - Literate posts ONLY. It doesn't mean you have to write a novel with each post, but if you're looking for one-liners, script style, or quick interactions, then this isn't the RP for you. Try to at least include 3-4 sentences and some dialogues; past tense, 3rd person is preferable.

6 - Be considerate and respectful of other players and their characters. If you are interacting with someone, whether your OC knows them or not, read their biographies, put in some effort. Of course, it's also important to stay IC, so your character might not / should not know everything that YOU know. IC =/= OOC.

7 - Respect the general RPR rules about what's allowed on site, particularly with regard to mature topics.

His motorcycle came to a halt. He was looking at the HUD that was projected from.inside his helmet. He would swing his leg back and got off of his motorcycle. He would slide his helmet off. He started making his way over to the door and he gave four raps on what he assumed was the entrance.

Being the second protege of Batman, he was ready for absolutely anything. If this was set to be an ambush? He has his usual party favors hidden. If things got really sticky, he had his bike rigged with enough RDX and seated, he could level a city block.

Being somewhat of an inventor himself, Titanio's powersuits were always equipped with a trusty portable toolbox. You never knew when the right tool would come in handy... for example, when the light system short-circuited moments before the first guests started showing up!

Muttering some very creative swearwords picked up in his years as a cop, he swiftly set to inspect the wires looking for the ones that emitted the tell-tale haywire smell - a mix of fish and burned plastic - and aptly began replacing the circuitry. That there would be setbacks, he had taken for granted because Murphy's laws, but so soon? The event was scheduled to start late in the evening, and carry on through the night so that the various supers and vigilantes could crash by before, after or during their night-time patrols; at this rate, however, he wondered in what conditions the factory hall would see the next day--

He had just finished replacing the damaged wiring when a discreet rapping echoed in the vast entrance, startling the man. 'Damn... I thought I'd told Gilbert to leave the doors open-'

"Yes, come on in--" he began to call out, just as the lights flared to life in a dazzling, blinding neon glow. ARGH! Blind blind blind! Recoling from the ceiling on his anti-grav thrusters, Luc shook his head, trying to blink off the momentarily flashes dancing before his eyes, and staggered toward the wall-mounted dashboard as he fumbled to dim the light. Turning the hall into a bloody disco was definitely not in program!

Now vigilante wasn't quite the word you'd call a small, twelve-year-old with an eyepatch. Something more like a kid playing pretend pirate came to mind, rather. However, Ciel was, most likely, considered a vigilante, being the Queen's Guarddog.

Not tied to the Scotland Yard or any other law enforcement, but deals with investigations and crime-solving and fighting, order of Her Majesty.

Now you probably wouldn't expect this child to be that good at his job, but he was, and often made the Scotland Yard mad when he was able to solve crimes quicker than they could. Now something you really didn't expect about this grey-blue haired preteen, was the fact that, well.. He made a deal with a demon. Nobody knew this, of course.

Sebastian Michaelis, a demon disguised as a butler. You could even say he was.. one hell of a butler.

But Ciel, actually did not arrive with Sebastian to this event.
(But if things got dangerous, he could just summon Sebastian to save him)

While the big, wide door was being opened by the man who just arrived by motorcycle, Ciel slipped in almost completely undetectable, and stepped inside the entrance hall where the event took place. It was almost quite comical, a short boy dressed like he was from the victorian era, standing in an event that was targeted more towards adults (superheroes or not) who crime-fought. And yet, he fit in because of his job.

Ciel glanced over with his one eye, noticing Titanio fumbling with the light. "Good evening." Ciel took his tophat off and tilted his head forward, then put his tophat back on, before resting his hand back where his other hand was, which was on his sturdy walking cane.

"Lights giving you trouble?" Ciel had a small smirk of what seemed to be amusement, watching the man fumble with the light, seeming to find it a bit funny to watch.

He would make his way inside. His eyes fell upon Ciel and he automatically looked brought Batman's biological son Damian to remembrance. Jason seemed to understand that Ciel was more than capable of taking care of himself.

He would reach up and remove his helmet showing his face. He had a scat on his chin and one on his forehead. These are scars from when the Joker had pummeled him with a crowbar before killing him all those years ago.


Thanks to Ra's al-Ghul, he was brought back, and now he had no qualms with permanently erasing criminals from the realm of the living. In fact, yesterday evening, he had decided to send every mob enforcer from each of the crime syndicates to the hereafter, and destroyed every drug lab run by street gangs in the city.


He watched Titanio for a minute before frustration took over and he went over to the other vigilante and decided to offer a second set of hands and eyes.

"What are we doing?"

Keira had been something of a vigilante who worked behind the scenes, unable to just sit idly by and watch innocents suffer. Once a celebrated hero of Century City, she had lived in the shadows, unable to forgive herself for a tragic incident that had turned her into a pariah in the superhero community. Haunted by guilt and seeking redemption, she had found herself drawn to a secluded retreat—an old converted factory tucked away with an open invitation to people like her.

Keira had been surprised to receive the summons to this place. Initially hesitant, she had eventually succumbed to the need for respite from her perpetual flight from the law, constantly changing her identity to evade capture. Arriving punctually, clad in a simple white t-shirt and blue jeans, her glasses perched on her nose, she had entered the surprisingly well-appointed space. Others had already been engaged in conversation, but Keira had opted to quietly help herself to a sandwich, preferring anonymity over attention.

Nervously adjusting her glasses, Keira had observed the gathering, unsure of how to engage with strangers or reveal her past. For then, she had sought solace in anonymity, yearning for a moment of peace amid the turmoil that had defined her existence.

Kane wasn’t expecting any kind of invitation to a vigilante party, but considering that he had just quit the police force to start his own private investigation firm; he supposed it was only a matter of time before some kind of cult wanted his attention. The thought was funny enough to make him consider the invitation, but what made him come to the scene was the promise of friends and allies. An idea that Kane wasn’t too familiar with. His childhood had been rocky at best, and now that he was facing new afflictions, some answers would be the best thing he could ask for. Question was who had the answers and was willing to speak.

He touched the two newly healed holes on his neck. A rush of pain surged through his body, but he managed to shake it off enough to push his body through the entrance. When he looked into the party, the scene was unlike anything he could ever imagine. Three people fiddling with and fixing the lights. “Suppose this answers the question of how many people it takes to screw in a light bulb,” Kane stifled a laugh, but the smile crept onto his face to stay.

It wasn’t like him to make jokes so openly, particularly with strangers, but it was a party. It was about time that he time to cut loose. Looking around the room, he had heard of most of them or at least of their alter-egos. Red hood. Ciel was particularly interesting for him as a detective and investigator. Not to mention Titanio had saved a couple of his friends before. But one stood out. The woman with glasses. She was an enigma for now at least.

“I’m right in saying this is the super secret party, correct? And was I supposed to bring a costume?”

Bug-spackled streetlights drooped into long lines of dim glowing yellow as Randle cruised by, an ever-thin line of cigarillo smoke trailing behind his shabby rental. He'd been elbow-deep into his archives, digging for an old account on an old 'friend', when no one less than Light Raygun herself had shot him a text. Apparently, some big vigilante rendez-vous was about to go down on the outskirts of town. Now, Randle wasn't fond of that label, finding that most vigilantes were wannabe cops at best, though the fox-masked woman was a good friend and capable crimefighter, and as such, he really couldn't refuse her offer to go. Who knew, maybe once he came face-to-face with colleagues, he'd come to appreciate their ways more. And thus, here he was, en route to an abandoned industrial warehouse where the party was allegedly taking place. The humid, populated downtown air had been switched out for the smoggy emptiness of the outskirts. Empty, except for.. well, that had to be it. Approximately 40 meters away from the host's supposed base of operations, Randle parked his rusted Chevrolet Corsica - these Earth cars really couldn't compare to the New Arcadian buggies.. -, and stepped out into the open. Though summer was in full swing, the air was somewhat chilly in this part of town, and even if he was unable to really be bothered by it, he drew up the collar of his trenchcoat. Lighting himself a fresh cigarette, Randle approached the entrance of the large factory building, noticing that a couple of people had already gathered near it. A flashy, expensive-looking motorcycle stood propped up by the door, and voices, mingling with the tunes, could be heard from a distance. By the sound of it, something or someone'd had themselves a little accident, and the reactions varied from being uninterested to involved. "Well, isn't this quite the venue," Randle remarked, making his debut by taking a wide stride through the door. Five vigilantes had already arrived. There were two young humanoids, one of which looked to be an early teenager at most - thanks to their lack of fur, humans' ages were awfully easy to estimate -, as well as two dark-haired young adults, and a scruffy mustached man closer to Randle in age. He was outfitted with all manner of high tech, and based on his somewhat tense and overseeing body language, Randle determined that he had to be the host of the party. "Hey there. Ti..tanio, wasn't it? Light Raygun sent me a heads-up about this little soiree. Did a real good job there," he greeted the presumed host, taking off his trenchcoat and draping across the back of a chair. Standing closest to Titanio, he then turned to look at the rest of the people. What on the Goddess' green soil was that child doing there, at this hour of the night, no less? He was used to seeing Zero out on trips like these, though he'd never grown too used to the idea of a child vigilante. He knew the kid wanted to be, and that if given the chance, he would likely verbally ambush this poor boy with excited questions about how he did it. "Don't suppose all these folks are local, eh? City can only handle so many crimefighters at once." Like the newest arrival before him, he was puzzled about the woman with the glasses, mostly because she hadn't said a thing since he'd walked in. Aloof, or still playing the vigilante's game? Only one way to find out. "Easy to forget how to deal with folks casually when ya spend so much time out in the field, hm?" he said as he approached the woman standing by the pile of sandwiches. Unable to eat or digest anything, he decided to help himself to a newspaper from a nearby shelf on his way there, keeping it tucked under his arm.

Aronborne alighted fairly gently atop the warehouse near a window before laying down and over the edge of the building to peer inside. Seemed this was likely the place, and he wasn't too early. Sliding off the edge fully and falling past the window, he opened his wings and caught himself, righting his position in the process. Gliding around to a door he landed a bit more harshly this time and paused.
He didn't know anyone here. And he was fairly certain no one knew him. He'd only heard about this from a friend, and they hadn't turned up yet it seemed. Steeling his nerves, Aronborne entered through the side door as quietly as possible. He folded wings his tightly against his back as he tried to shut the door with equal caution, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
He did however jump when the lights flashed, flaring his wings in surprise and tripping over his own feet to land in a heap. Embarrassed, he stood again, blinking.
"Do you need any help?" He called a little loudly, hoping he'd be heard as he moved towards the growing cluster of people.

Keira stood silently, her gaze flickering briefly to the newcomer as he approached. The lights in the room had momentarily intensified earlier, a minor annoyance that barely registered for someone who could stare at the Sun without flinching. Titanio’s antics never bothered her much; she was used to the quirks of a variety of people that came in all shapes and sizes.

The strangers comment struck a chord after he walked up to her. She adjusted her glasses and shifted uneasily. "Yeah, it can be a bit... overwhelming sometimes," Keira admitted, her voice soft yet clear. "I tend to get lost in my thoughts."

She hesitated, feeling a pang of regret for not engaging the host, Titanio, sooner. But now she turned her attention to the tall stranger who had walked up to her, "I'm Keira," she finally introduced herself to Randle, extending her hand tentatively towards him. "I'm... not very good in situations like this."

Keira couldn't help it but she found Randle intriguing. She had rarely encountered beings quite like him—his presence alone piqued her curiosity. Her grip was gentle but firm, a sign of her underlying strength and resolve despite her initial hesitation.

To the others who entered the room or greeted her briefly, Keira acknowledged them with a respectful nod. But when it came to the questions, she preferred to let Titanio handle them, his charismatic demeanor more suited to social interactions than her own.

He shrugged and he went directly for a bottle of water. He twisted the cap off and took a few chugs before closing the bottle back. He would continuously glance back and forth between the party goers.


He sat down and he continued to observe and map out everything in his head just in case he might need to take action. Being a protege of Batman taught him to be fifteen steps ahead of every situation, and currently he was making his thirteenth step.

He looked at something on his wrist and let out a longing sigh before shaking his head and grumbling "never again" to himself.

His extended hand was received by one with a strong grip, yet not so strong that it echoed insecurity. This woman had to be, as kids these days put it, a girl boss: sure of herself, so that she was neither a timid doormatt, nor a cocky try-hard. These were the kinds of vigilantes Randle respected a lot. "Heh, that makes two of us," he chuckled at Keira's remark about not being too much of a social pro. "I like to think that most folks in our line of work got other gimmicks to make up for it, though. The name's Randle Pentecost." Though it wasn't by any means the intention of the get-together, Randle did feel a subtle pressure mounting in chest to keep an eye on his surroundings at all times. Most parties that he'd attended, he had attented with the purpose of gathering evidence or catching a glimpse of potetial POIs. No doubt that some of the others felt it too. For the first time in a while, he had to force himself to lower his guard. "Ya familiar with our generous host? What was his.. oh, yeah, Titanio?" Talking about work wouldn't really help him make a lot of friends. People would either be too secretive about what they did, or had come hear to escape the thrills and tragedies of their daily lives. Nonetheless, he was interested in finding out of his own interpretations of the humans around him were anywhere close to true. After all, even those that skulked about in the shadows weren't immune to a detective's keen eye.

Finally, Ciel stopped being silent and mysterious, watching Titanio fiddle with the lights, and glanced over to Randle and Keira speaking with each other. Ciel wandered over, his cane tapping against the floor and he leaned on it a bit. "Evening you two. Overheard the conversation and thought I'd drop in." Ciel said, but his voice lacked a friendly tone. It wasn't unfriendly, per se, but it was lacking in any excitement for conversation. "Earl Ciel Phantomhive, Queen's Guarddog and owner of Funtom." Ciel held his hand out in-case any of them wanted to shake his hand, a habit he picked up when speaking with the other Aristocrats of Evil.

Ciel didn't expect a handshake back, so if Randle and/or Keira didn't shake his hand, that was fine to. Either way, he put his hand back to his cane.

"I'm unfamiliar with Titanio, myself, however a few.. friends of mine have heard of him, some rumors, some acquaintances." Ciel narrowed his eyes with a soft smirk.

But honestly..
How the hell could this kid be a vigilante?

(I'm waiting for Titanio to respond)

(At this point, I think that's wise. )

( Ey sure thing! )

Steve walked in the door ... 'walked' ... he was being polite saying that... it was more of a stagger than anything... he wasn't sure if he was in the right place or not... he wasn't sure what the right place was at this point... but he was sure he saw something about it being a 'Law-Enforcement Lounge Bar'. It had the right last word in it anyway.

He saw an open stool at the bar and walked over to it to the best of his ability and sat down. "Johnny Walker Red on rocks" he said to the bartender when he came by. It wasn't that he needed another drink. He just wanted one. While he was waiting for his drink, he picked up a flyer that sat on the bar. He read the bullet points about this gathering, and he nodded. He didn't have any superpowers per se, but he was once told his breath and body odor was one after a three-day bender. That and he sometimes did a lot of damage in a short time when he blacked out.

He definitely could be considered a vigilante. Though his policing days were long over, Steve did do things to those who beat women. He wondered how that guy in Los Angeles is doing after getting all of his fingers broken after he punched his girlfriend and knocked her out outside a nightclub. Steve just happened to be coming out the door when that happened. He took care of her problem. There were others of course. Some of which he couldn't remember correctly. But the point is he could tick the vigilante box off. The rest was pretty much boilerplate courtesy.

When he got his drink, he turned around to observe the clientele that was attending this soirée... Of course he got some looks due to his attire. a somewhat crumpled tuxedo. It had been a long night ... and a day ... and he was now into another night. He didn't know anyone here, though one woman did look familiarish. It was probably a six degrees of separation thing.... or poor focus on his part. He gave her a nod and lifted his glass to her before taking a sip.

Yeah, this was going to be an interesting party. It would be a good way to cap off a celebration of the capture of a serial killer he had been in pursuit of since his Seattle PD days of the mid '00's